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    "text": "START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 18  The Federalist Papers by Alexander Hamilton and John Jay and James Madison Contents FEDERALIST No. I. General Introduction FEDERALIST No. II. Concerning Dangers from Foreign Force and Influence FEDERALIST No. III. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) FEDERALIST No. IV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) FEDERALIST No. V. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) FEDERALIST No. VI. Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States FEDERALIST No. VII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States) FEDERALIST No. VIII. The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States FEDERALIST No. IX. The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection FEDERALIST No. X. The Same Subject Continued (The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection) FEDERALIST No. XI. The Utility of the Union in Respect to Commercial Relations and a Navy FEDERALIST No. XII. The Utility of the Union In Respect to Revenue FEDERALIST No. XIII. Advantage of the Union in Respect to Economy in Government FEDERALIST No. XIV. Objections to the Proposed Constitution From Extent of Territory Answered FEDERALIST No. XV. The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union FEDERALIST No. XVI. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) FEDERALIST No. XVII. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) FEDERALIST No. XVIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) FEDERALIST No. XIX. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) FEDERALIST No. XX. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) FEDERALIST No. XXI. Other Defects of the Present Confederation FEDERALIST No. XXII. The Same Subject Continued (Other Defects of the Present Confederation) FEDERALIST No. XXIII. The Necessity of a Government as Energetic as the One Proposed to the Preservation of the Union FEDERALIST No. XXIV. The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered FEDERALIST No. XXV. The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered) FEDERALIST No. XXVI. The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered. FEDERALIST No. XXVII. The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) FEDERALIST No. XXVIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) FEDERALIST No. XXIX. Concerning the Militia FEDERALIST No. XXX. Concerning the General Power of Taxation FEDERALIST No. XXXI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXIII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXIV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXVI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) FEDERALIST No. XXXVII. Concerning the Difficulties of the Convention in Devising a Proper Form of Government. FEDERALIST No. XXXVIII. The Same Subject Continued, and the Incoherence of the Objections to the New Plan Exposed. FEDERALIST No. XXXIX. The Conformity of the Plan to Republican Principles FEDERALIST No. XL. On the Powers of the Convention to Form a Mixed Government Examined and Sustained. FEDERALIST No. XLI. General View of the Powers Conferred by The Constitution FEDERALIST No. XLII. The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered FEDERALIST No. XLIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered) FEDERALIST No. XLIV. Restrictions on the Authority of the Several States FEDERALIST No. XLV. The Alleged Danger From the Powers of the Union to the State Governments. FEDERALIST No. XLVI. The Influence of the State and Federal Governments Compared FEDERALIST No. XLVII. The Particular Structure of the New Government and the Distribution of Power Among Its Different Parts. FEDERALIST No. XLVIII. These Departments Should Not Be So Far Separated as to Have No Constitutional Control Over Each Other. FEDERALIST No. XLIX. Method of Guarding Against the Encroachments of Any One Department of Government by Appealing to the People Through a Convention. FEDERALIST No. L. Periodical Appeals to the People Considered FEDERALIST No. LI. The Structure of the Government Must Furnish the Proper Checks and Balances Between the Different Departments. FEDERALIST No. LII. The House of Representatives FEDERALIST No. LIII. The Same Subject Continued (The House of Representatives) FEDERALIST No. LIV. The Apportionment of Members Among the States FEDERALIST No. LV. The Total Number of the House of Representatives FEDERALIST No. LVI. The Same Subject Continued (The Total Number of the House of Representatives) FEDERALIST No. LVII. The Alleged Tendency of the New Plan to Elevate the Few at the Expense of the Many Considered in Connection with Representation. FEDERALIST No. LVIII. Objection That The Number of Members Will Not Be Augmented as the Progress of Population Demands. FEDERALIST No. LIV. Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members FEDERALIST No. LX. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) FEDERALIST No. LXI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) FEDERALIST No. LXII. The Senate FEDERALIST No. LXIII. The Senate Continued FEDERALIST No. LXIV. The Powers of the Senate FEDERALIST No. LXV. The Powers of the Senate Continued FEDERALIST No. LXVI. Objections to the Power of the Senate To Set as a Court for Impeachments Further Considered. FEDERALIST No. LXVII. The Executive Department FEDERALIST No. LXVIII. The Mode of Electing the President FEDERALIST No. LXIX. The Real Character of the Executive FEDERALIST No. LXX. The Executive Department Further Considered FEDERALIST No. LXX. The Executive Department Further Considered FEDERALIST No. LXXI. The Duration in Office of the Executive FEDERALIST No. LXXII. The Same Subject Continued, and ReEligibility of the Executive Considered. FEDERALIST No. LXXIII. The Provision For The Support of the Executive, and the Veto Power FEDERALIST No. LXXIV. The Command of the Military and Naval Forces, and the Pardoning Power of the Executive. FEDERALIST No. LXXV. The TreatyMaking Power of the Executive FEDERALIST No. LXXVI. The Appointing Power of the Executive FEDERALIST No. LXXVII. The Appointing Power Continued and Other Powers of the Executive Considered. FEDERALIST No. LXXVIII. The Judiciary Department FEDERALIST No. LXXIX. The Judiciary Continued FEDERALIST No. LXXX. The Powers of the Judiciary FEDERALIST No. LXXXI. The Judiciary Continued, and the Distribution of the Judicial Authority. FEDERALIST No. LXXXII. The Judiciary Continued. FEDERALIST No. LXXXIII. The Judiciary Continued in Relation to Trial by Jury FEDERALIST No. LXXXIV. Certain General and Miscellaneous Objections to the Constitution Considered and Answered. FEDERALIST No. LXXXV. Concluding Remarks THE FEDERALIST. No. I. General Introduction For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: After an unequivocal experience of the inefficacy of the subsisting federal government, you are called upon to deliberate on a new Constitution for the United States of America. The subject speaks its own importance; comprehending in its consequences nothing less than the existence of the UNION, the safety and welfare of the parts of which it is composed, the fate of an empire in many respects the most interesting in the world. It has been frequently remarked that it seems to have been reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force. If there be any truth in the remark, the crisis at which we are arrived may with propriety be regarded as the era in which that decision is to be made; and a wrong election of the part we shall act may, in this view, deserve to be considered as the general misfortune of mankind. This idea will add the inducements of philanthropy to those of patriotism, to heighten the solicitude which all considerate and good men must feel for the event. Happy will it be if our choice should be directed by a judicious estimate of our true interests, unperplexed and unbiased by considerations not connected with the public good. But this is a thing more ardently to be wished than seriously to be expected. The plan offered to our deliberations affects too many particular interests, innovates upon too many local institutions, not to involve in its discussion a variety of objects foreign to its merits, and of views, passions and prejudices little favorable to the discovery of truth. Among the most formidable of the obstacles which the new Constitution will have to encounter may readily be distinguished the obvious interest of a certain class of men in every State to resist all changes which may hazard a diminution of the power, emolument, and consequence of the offices they hold under the State establishments; and the perverted ambition of another class of men, who will either hope to aggrandize themselves by the confusions of their country, or will flatter themselves with fairer prospects of elevation from the subdivision of the empire into several partial confederacies than from its union under one government. It is not, however, my design to dwell upon observations of this nature. I am well aware that it would be disingenuous to resolve indiscriminately the opposition of any set of men (merely because their situations might subject them to suspicion) into interested or ambitious views. Candor will oblige us to admit that even such men may be actuated by upright intentions; and it cannot be doubted that much of the opposition which has made its appearance, or may hereafter make its appearance, will spring from sources, blameless at least, if not respectablethe honest errors of minds led astray by preconceived jealousies and fears. So numerous indeed and so powerful are the causes which serve to give a false bias to the judgment, that we, upon many occasions, see wise and good men on the wrong as well as on the right side of questions of the first magnitude to society. This circumstance, if duly attended to, would furnish a lesson of moderation to those who are ever so much persuaded of their being in the right in any controversy. And a further reason for caution, in this respect, might be drawn from the reflection that we are not always sure that those who advocate the truth are influenced by purer principles than their antagonists. Ambition, avarice, personal animosity, party opposition, and many other motives not more laudable than these, are apt to operate as well upon those who support as those who oppose the right side of a question. Were there not even these inducements to moderation, nothing could be more illjudged than that intolerant spirit which has, at all times, characterized political parties. For in politics, as in religion, it is equally absurd to aim at making proselytes by fire and sword. Heresies in either can rarely be cured by persecution. And yet, however just these sentiments will be allowed to be, we have already sufficient indications that it will happen in this as in all former cases of great national discussion. A torrent of angry and malignant passions will be let loose. To judge from the conduct of the opposite parties, we shall be led to conclude that they will mutually hope to evince the justness of their opinions, and to increase the number of their converts by the loudness of their declamations and the bitterness of their invectives. An enlightened zeal for the energy and efficiency of government will be stigmatized as the offspring of a temper fond of despotic power and hostile to the principles of liberty. An overscrupulous jealousy of danger to the rights of the people, which is more commonly the fault of the head than of the heart, will be represented as mere pretense and artifice, the stale bait for popularity at the expense of the public good. It will be forgotten, on the one hand, that jealousy is the usual concomitant of love, and that the noble enthusiasm of liberty is apt to be infected with a spirit of narrow and illiberal distrust. On the other hand, it will be equally forgotten that the vigor of government is essential to the security of liberty; that, in the contemplation of a sound and wellinformed judgment, their interest can never be separated; and that a dangerous ambition more often lurks behind the specious mask of zeal for the rights of the people than under the forbidden appearance of zeal for the firmness and efficiency of government. History will teach us that the former has been found a much more certain road to the introduction of despotism than the latter, and that of those men who have overturned the liberties of republics, the greatest number have begun their career by paying an obsequious court to the people; commencing demagogues, and ending tyrants. In the course of the preceding observations, I have had an eye, my fellowcitizens, to putting you upon your guard against all attempts, from whatever quarter, to influence your decision in a matter of the utmost moment to your welfare, by any impressions other than those which may result from the evidence of truth. You will, no doubt, at the same time, have collected from the general scope of them, that they proceed from a source not unfriendly to the new Constitution. Yes, my countrymen, I own to you that, after having given it an attentive consideration, I am clearly of opinion it is your interest to adopt it. I am convinced that this is the safest course for your liberty, your dignity, and your happiness. I affect not reserves which I do not feel. I will not amuse you with an appearance of deliberation when I have decided. I frankly acknowledge to you my convictions, and I will freely lay before you the reasons on which they are founded. The consciousness of good intentions disdains ambiguity. I shall not, however, multiply professions on this head. My motives must remain in the depository of my own breast. My arguments will be open to all, and may be judged of by all. They shall at least be offered in a spirit which will not disgrace the cause of truth. I propose, in a series of papers, to discuss the following interesting particulars: THE UTILITY OF THE UNION TO YOUR POLITICAL PROSPERITY THE INSUFFICIENCY OF THE PRESENT CONFEDERATION TO PRESERVE THAT UNION THE NECESSITY OF A GOVERNMENT AT LEAST EQUALLY ENERGETIC WITH THE ONE PROPOSED, TO THE ATTAINMENT OF THIS OBJECT THE CONFORMITY OF THE PROPOSED CONSTITUTION TO THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT ITS ANALOGY TO YOUR OWN STATE CONSTITUTION and lastly, THE ADDITIONAL SECURITY WHICH ITS ADOPTION WILL AFFORD TO THE PRESERVATION OF THAT SPECIES OF GOVERNMENT, TO LIBERTY, AND TO PROPERTY. In the progress of this discussion I shall endeavor to give a satisfactory answer to all the objections which shall have made their appearance, that may seem to have any claim to your attention. It may perhaps be thought superfluous to offer arguments to prove the utility of the UNION, a point, no doubt, deeply engraved on the hearts of the great body of the people in every State, and one, which it may be imagined, has no adversaries. But the fact is, that we already hear it whispered in the private circles of those who oppose the new Constitution, that the thirteen States are of too great extent for any general system, and that we must of necessity resort to separate confederacies of distinct portions of the whole.1 This doctrine will, in all probability, be gradually propagated, till it has votaries enough to countenance an open avowal of it. For nothing can be more evident, to those who are able to take an enlarged view of the subject, than the alternative of an adoption of the new Constitution or a dismemberment of the Union. It will therefore be of use to begin by examining the advantages of that Union, the certain evils, and the probable dangers, to which every State will be exposed from its dissolution. This shall accordingly constitute the subject of my next address. PUBLIUS. 1 The same idea, tracing the arguments to their consequences, is held out in several of the late publications against the new Constitution. THE FEDERALIST. No. II. Concerning Dangers from Foreign Force and Influence For the Independent Journal. JAY To the People of the State of New York: When the people of America reflect that they are now called upon to decide a question, which, in its consequences, must prove one of the most important that ever engaged their attention, the propriety of their taking a very comprehensive, as well as a very serious, view of it, will be evident. Nothing is more certain than the indispensable necessity of government, and it is equally undeniable, that whenever and however it is instituted, the people must cede to it some of their natural rights in order to vest it with requisite powers. It is well worthy of consideration therefore, whether it would conduce more to the interest of the people of America that they should, to all general purposes, be one nation, under one federal government, or that they should divide themselves into separate confederacies, and give to the head of each the same kind of powers which they are advised to place in one national government. It has until lately been a received and uncontradicted opinion that the prosperity of the people of America depended on their continuing firmly united, and the wishes, prayers, and efforts of our best and wisest citizens have been constantly directed to that object. But politicians now appear, who insist that this opinion is erroneous, and that instead of looking for safety and happiness in union, we ought to seek it in a division of the States into distinct confederacies or sovereignties. However extraordinary this new doctrine may appear, it nevertheless has its advocates; and certain characters who were much opposed to it formerly, are at present of the number. Whatever may be the arguments or inducements which have wrought this change in the sentiments and declarations of these gentlemen, it certainly would not be wise in the people at large to adopt these new political tenets without being fully convinced that they are founded in truth and sound policy. It has often given me pleasure to observe that independent America was not composed of detached and distant territories, but that one connected, fertile, widespreading country was the portion of our western sons of liberty. Providence has in a particular manner blessed it with a variety of soils and productions, and watered it with innumerable streams, for the delight and accommodation of its inhabitants. A succession of navigable waters forms a kind of chain round its borders, as if to bind it together; while the most noble rivers in the world, running at convenient distances, present them with highways for the easy communication of friendly aids, and the mutual transportation and exchange of their various commodities. With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice that Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country to one united peoplea people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established general liberty and independence. This country and this people seem to have been made for each other, and it appears as if it was the design of Providence, that an inheritance so proper and convenient for a band of brethren, united to each other by the strongest ties, should never be split into a number of unsocial, jealous, and alien sovereignties. Similar sentiments have hitherto prevailed among all orders and denominations of men among us. To all general purposes we have uniformly been one people each individual citizen everywhere enjoying the same national rights, privileges, and protection. As a nation we have made peace and war; as a nation we have vanquished our common enemies; as a nation we have formed alliances, and made treaties, and entered into various compacts and conventions with foreign states. A strong sense of the value and blessings of union induced the people, at a very early period, to institute a federal government to preserve and perpetuate it. They formed it almost as soon as they had a political existence; nay, at a time when their habitations were in flames, when many of their citizens were bleeding, and when the progress of hostility and desolation left little room for those calm and mature inquiries and reflections which must ever precede the formation of a wise and wellbalanced government for a free people. It is not to be wondered at, that a government instituted in times so inauspicious, should on experiment be found greatly deficient and inadequate to the purpose it was intended to answer. This intelligent people perceived and regretted these defects. Still continuing no less attached to union than enamored of liberty, they observed the danger which immediately threatened the former and more remotely the latter; and being pursuaded that ample security for both could only be found in a national government more wisely framed, they as with one voice, convened the late convention at Philadelphia, to take that important subject under consideration. This convention composed of men who possessed the confidence of the people, and many of whom had become highly distinguished by their patriotism, virtue and wisdom, in times which tried the minds and hearts of men, undertook the arduous task. In the mild season of peace, with minds unoccupied by other subjects, they passed many months in cool, uninterrupted, and daily consultation; and finally, without having been awed by power, or influenced by any passions except love for their country, they presented and recommended to the people the plan produced by their joint and very unanimous councils. Admit, for so is the fact, that this plan is only RECOMMENDED, not imposed, yet let it be remembered that it is neither recommended to BLIND approbation, nor to BLIND reprobation; but to that sedate and candid consideration which the magnitude and importance of the subject demand, and which it certainly ought to receive. But this (as was remarked in the foregoing number of this paper) is more to be wished than expected, that it may be so considered and examined. Experience on a former occasion teaches us not to be too sanguine in such hopes. It is not yet forgotten that wellgrounded apprehensions of imminent danger induced the people of America to form the memorable Congress of 1774. That body recommended certain measures to their constituents, and the event proved their wisdom; yet it is fresh in our memories how soon the press began to teem with pamphlets and weekly papers against those very measures. Not only many of the officers of government, who obeyed the dictates of personal interest, but others, from a mistaken estimate of consequences, or the undue influence of former attachments, or whose ambition aimed at objects which did not correspond with the public good, were indefatigable in their efforts to pursuade the people to reject the advice of that patriotic Congress. Many, indeed, were deceived and deluded, but the great majority of the people reasoned and decided judiciously; and happy they are in reflecting that they did so. They considered that the Congress was composed of many wise and experienced men. That, being convened from different parts of the country, they brought with them and communicated to each other a variety of useful information. That, in the course of the time they passed together in inquiring into and discussing the true interests of their country, they must have acquired very accurate knowledge on that head. That they were individually interested in the public liberty and prosperity, and therefore that it was not less their inclination than their duty to recommend only such measures as, after the most mature deliberation, they really thought prudent and advisable. These and similar considerations then induced the people to rely greatly on the judgment and integrity of the Congress; and they took their advice, notwithstanding the various arts and endeavors used to deter them from it. But if the people at large had reason to confide in the men of that Congress, few of whom had been fully tried or generally known, still greater reason have they now to respect the judgment and advice of the convention, for it is well known that some of the most distinguished members of that Congress, who have been since tried and justly approved for patriotism and abilities, and who have grown old in acquiring political information, were also members of this convention, and carried into it their accumulated knowledge and experience. It is worthy of remark that not only the first, but every succeeding Congress, as well as the late convention, have invariably joined with the people in thinking that the prosperity of America depended on its Union. To preserve and perpetuate it was the great object of the people in forming that convention, and it is also the great object of the plan which the convention has advised them to adopt. With what propriety, therefore, or for what good purposes, are attempts at this particular period made by some men to depreciate the importance of the Union? Or why is it suggested that three or four confederacies would be better than one? I am persuaded in my own mind that the people have always thought right on this subject, and that their universal and uniform attachment to the cause of the Union rests on great and weighty reasons, which I shall endeavor to develop and explain in some ensuing papers. They who promote the idea of substituting a number of distinct confederacies in the room of the plan of the convention, seem clearly to foresee that the rejection of it would put the continuance of the Union in the utmost jeopardy. That certainly would be the case, and I sincerely wish that it may be as clearly foreseen by every good citizen, that whenever the dissolution of the Union arrives, America will have reason to exclaim, in the words of the poet: FAREWELL! A LONG FAREWELL TO ALL MY GREATNESS. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. III. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. JAY To the People of the State of New York: It is not a new observation that the people of any country (if, like the Americans, intelligent and wellinformed) seldom adopt and steadily persevere for many years in an erroneous opinion respecting their interests. That consideration naturally tends to create great respect for the high opinion which the people of America have so long and uniformly entertained of the importance of their continuing firmly united under one federal government, vested with sufficient powers for all general and national purposes. The more attentively I consider and investigate the reasons which appear to have given birth to this opinion, the more I become convinced that they are cogent and conclusive. Among the many objects to which a wise and free people find it necessary to direct their attention, that of providing for their SAFETY seems to be the first. The SAFETY of the people doubtless has relation to a great variety of circumstances and considerations, and consequently affords great latitude to those who wish to define it precisely and comprehensively. At present I mean only to consider it as it respects security for the preservation of peace and tranquillity, as well as against dangers from FOREIGN ARMS AND INFLUENCE, as from dangers of the LIKE KIND arising from domestic causes. As the former of these comes first in order, it is proper it should be the first discussed. Let us therefore proceed to examine whether the people are not right in their opinion that a cordial Union, under an efficient national government, affords them the best security that can be devised against HOSTILITIES from abroad. The number of wars which have happened or will happen in the world will always be found to be in proportion to the number and weight of the causes, whether REAL or PRETENDED, which PROVOKE or INVITE them. If this remark be just, it becomes useful to inquire whether so many JUST causes of war are likely to be given by UNITED AMERICA as by DISUNITED America; for if it should turn out that United America will probably give the fewest, then it will follow that in this respect the Union tends most to preserve the people in a state of peace with other nations. The JUST causes of war, for the most part, arise either from violation of treaties or from direct violence. America has already formed treaties with no less than six foreign nations, and all of them, except Prussia, are maritime, and therefore able to annoy and injure us. She has also extensive commerce with Portugal, Spain, and Britain, and, with respect to the two latter, has, in addition, the circumstance of neighborhood to attend to. It is of high importance to the peace of America that she observe the laws of nations towards all these powers, and to me it appears evident that this will be more perfectly and punctually done by one national government than it could be either by thirteen separate States or by three or four distinct confederacies. Because when once an efficient national government is established, the best men in the country will not only consent to serve, but also will generally be appointed to manage it; for, although town or country, or other contracted influence, may place men in State assemblies, or senates, or courts of justice, or executive departments, yet more general and extensive reputation for talents and other qualifications will be necessary to recommend men to offices under the national government,especially as it will have the widest field for choice, and never experience that want of proper persons which is not uncommon in some of the States. Hence, it will result that the administration, the political counsels, and the judicial decisions of the national government will be more wise, systematical, and judicious than those of individual States, and consequently more satisfactory with respect to other nations, as well as more SAFE with respect to us. Because, under the national government, treaties and articles of treaties, as well as the laws of nations, will always be expounded in one sense and executed in the same manner,whereas, adjudications on the same points and questions, in thirteen States, or in three or four confederacies, will not always accord or be consistent; and that, as well from the variety of independent courts and judges appointed by different and independent governments, as from the different local laws and interests which may affect and influence them. The wisdom of the convention, in committing such questions to the jurisdiction and judgment of courts appointed by and responsible only to one national government, cannot be too much commended. Because the prospect of present loss or advantage may often tempt the governing party in one or two States to swerve from good faith and justice; but those temptations, not reaching the other States, and consequently having little or no influence on the national government, the temptation will be fruitless, and good faith and justice be preserved. The case of the treaty of peace with Britain adds great weight to this reasoning. Because, even if the governing party in a State should be disposed to resist such temptations, yet as such temptations may, and commonly do, result from circumstances peculiar to the State, and may affect a great number of the inhabitants, the governing party may not always be able, if willing, to prevent the injustice meditated, or to punish the aggressors. But the national government, not being affected by those local circumstances, will neither be induced to commit the wrong themselves, nor want power or inclination to prevent or punish its commission by others. So far, therefore, as either designed or accidental violations of treaties and the laws of nations afford JUST causes of war, they are less to be apprehended under one general government than under several lesser ones, and in that respect the former most favors the SAFETY of the people. As to those just causes of war which proceed from direct and unlawful violence, it appears equally clear to me that one good national government affords vastly more security against dangers of that sort than can be derived from any other quarter. Because such violences are more frequently caused by the passions and interests of a part than of the whole; of one or two States than of the Union. Not a single Indian war has yet been occasioned by aggressions of the present federal government, feeble as it is; but there are several instances of Indian hostilities having been provoked by the improper conduct of individual States, who, either unable or unwilling to restrain or punish offenses, have given occasion to the slaughter of many innocent inhabitants. The neighborhood of Spanish and British territories, bordering on some States and not on others, naturally confines the causes of quarrel more immediately to the borderers. The bordering States, if any, will be those who, under the impulse of sudden irritation, and a quick sense of apparent interest or injury, will be most likely, by direct violence, to excite war with these nations; and nothing can so effectually obviate that danger as a national government, whose wisdom and prudence will not be diminished by the passions which actuate the parties immediately interested. But not only fewer just causes of war will be given by the national government, but it will also be more in their power to accommodate and settle them amicably. They will be more temperate and cool, and in that respect, as well as in others, will be more in capacity to act advisedly than the offending State. The pride of states, as well as of men, naturally disposes them to justify all their actions, and opposes their acknowledging, correcting, or repairing their errors and offenses. The national government, in such cases, will not be affected by this pride, but will proceed with moderation and candor to consider and decide on the means most proper to extricate them from the difficulties which threaten them. Besides, it is well known that acknowledgments, explanations, and compensations are often accepted as satisfactory from a strong united nation, which would be rejected as unsatisfactory if offered by a State or confederacy of little consideration or power. In the year 1685, the state of Genoa having offended Louis XIV., endeavored to appease him. He demanded that they should send their Doge, or chief magistrate, accompanied by four of their senators, to FRANCE, to ask his pardon and receive his terms. They were obliged to submit to it for the sake of peace. Would he on any occasion either have demanded or have received the like humiliation from Spain, or Britain, or any other POWERFUL nation? PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. IV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. JAY To the People of the State of New York: My last paper assigned several reasons why the safety of the people would be best secured by union against the danger it may be exposed to by JUST causes of war given to other nations; and those reasons show that such causes would not only be more rarely given, but would also be more easily accommodated, by a national government than either by the State governments or the proposed little confederacies. But the safety of the people of America against dangers from FOREIGN force depends not only on their forbearing to give JUST causes of war to other nations, but also on their placing and continuing themselves in such a situation as not to INVITE hostility or insult; for it need not be observed that there are PRETENDED as well as just causes of war. It is too true, however disgraceful it may be to human nature, that nations in general will make war whenever they have a prospect of getting anything by it; nay, absolute monarchs will often make war when their nations are to get nothing by it, but for the purposes and objects merely personal, such as thirst for military glory, revenge for personal affronts, ambition, or private compacts to aggrandize or support their particular families or partisans. These and a variety of other motives, which affect only the mind of the sovereign, often lead him to engage in wars not sanctified by justice or the voice and interests of his people. But, independent of these inducements to war, which are more prevalent in absolute monarchies, but which well deserve our attention, there are others which affect nations as often as kings; and some of them will on examination be found to grow out of our relative situation and circumstances. With France and with Britain we are rivals in the fisheries, and can supply their markets cheaper than they can themselves, notwithstanding any efforts to prevent it by bounties on their own or duties on foreign fish. With them and with most other European nations we are rivals in navigation and the carrying trade; and we shall deceive ourselves if we suppose that any of them will rejoice to see it flourish; for, as our carrying trade cannot increase without in some degree diminishing theirs, it is more their interest, and will be more their policy, to restrain than to promote it. In the trade to China and India, we interfere with more than one nation, inasmuch as it enables us to partake in advantages which they had in a manner monopolized, and as we thereby supply ourselves with commodities which we used to purchase from them. The extension of our own commerce in our own vessels cannot give pleasure to any nations who possess territories on or near this continent, because the cheapness and excellence of our productions, added to the circumstance of vicinity, and the enterprise and address of our merchants and navigators, will give us a greater share in the advantages which those territories afford, than consists with the wishes or policy of their respective sovereigns. Spain thinks it convenient to shut the Mississippi against us on the one side, and Britain excludes us from the Saint Lawrence on the other; nor will either of them permit the other waters which are between them and us to become the means of mutual intercourse and traffic. From these and such like considerations, which might, if consistent with prudence, be more amplified and detailed, it is easy to see that jealousies and uneasinesses may gradually slide into the minds and cabinets of other nations, and that we are not to expect that they should regard our advancement in union, in power and consequence by land and by sea, with an eye of indifference and composure. The people of America are aware that inducements to war may arise out of these circumstances, as well as from others not so obvious at present, and that whenever such inducements may find fit time and opportunity for operation, pretenses to color and justify them will not be wanting. Wisely, therefore, do they consider union and a good national government as necessary to put and keep them in SUCH A SITUATION as, instead of INVITING war, will tend to repress and discourage it. That situation consists in the best possible state of defense, and necessarily depends on the government, the arms, and the resources of the country. As the safety of the whole is the interest of the whole, and cannot be provided for without government, either one or more or many, let us inquire whether one good government is not, relative to the object in question, more competent than any other given number whatever. One government can collect and avail itself of the talents and experience of the ablest men, in whatever part of the Union they may be found. It can move on uniform principles of policy. It can harmonize, assimilate, and protect the several parts and members, and extend the benefit of its foresight and precautions to each. In the formation of treaties, it will regard the interest of the whole, and the particular interests of the parts as connected with that of the whole. It can apply the resources and power of the whole to the defense of any particular part, and that more easily and expeditiously than State governments or separate confederacies can possibly do, for want of concert and unity of system. It can place the militia under one plan of discipline, and, by putting their officers in a proper line of subordination to the Chief Magistrate, will, as it were, consolidate them into one corps, and thereby render them more efficient than if divided into thirteen or into three or four distinct independent companies. What would the militia of Britain be if the English militia obeyed the government of England, if the Scotch militia obeyed the government of Scotland, and if the Welsh militia obeyed the government of Wales? Suppose an invasion; would those three governments (if they agreed at all) be able, with all their respective forces, to operate against the enemy so effectually as the single government of Great Britain would? We have heard much of the fleets of Britain, and the time may come, if we are wise, when the fleets of America may engage attention. But if one national government, had not so regulated the navigation of Britain as to make it a nursery for seamenif one national government had not called forth all the national means and materials for forming fleets, their prowess and their thunder would never have been celebrated. Let England have its navigation and fleetlet Scotland have its navigation and fleetlet Wales have its navigation and fleetlet Ireland have its navigation and fleetlet those four of the constituent parts of the British empire be under four independent governments, and it is easy to perceive how soon they would each dwindle into comparative insignificance. Apply these facts to our own case. Leave America divided into thirteen or, if you please, into three or four independent governmentswhat armies could they raise and paywhat fleets could they ever hope to have? If one was attacked, would the others fly to its succor, and spend their blood and money in its defense? Would there be no danger of their being flattered into neutrality by its specious promises, or seduced by a too great fondness for peace to decline hazarding their tranquillity and present safety for the sake of neighbors, of whom perhaps they have been jealous, and whose importance they are content to see diminished? Although such conduct would not be wise, it would, nevertheless, be natural. The history of the states of Greece, and of other countries, abounds with such instances, and it is not improbable that what has so often happened would, under similar circumstances, happen again. But admit that they might be willing to help the invaded State or confederacy. How, and when, and in what proportion shall aids of men and money be afforded? Who shall command the allied armies, and from which of them shall he receive his orders? Who shall settle the terms of peace, and in case of disputes what umpire shall decide between them and compel acquiescence? Various difficulties and inconveniences would be inseparable from such a situation; whereas one government, watching over the general and common interests, and combining and directing the powers and resources of the whole, would be free from all these embarrassments, and conduce far more to the safety of the people. But whatever may be our situation, whether firmly united under one national government, or split into a number of confederacies, certain it is, that foreign nations will know and view it exactly as it is; and they will act toward us accordingly. If they see that our national government is efficient and well administered, our trade prudently regulated, our militia properly organized and disciplined, our resources and finances discreetly managed, our credit reestablished, our people free, contented, and united, they will be much more disposed to cultivate our friendship than provoke our resentment. If, on the other hand, they find us either destitute of an effectual government (each State doing right or wrong, as to its rulers may seem convenient), or split into three or four independent and probably discordant republics or confederacies, one inclining to Britain, another to France, and a third to Spain, and perhaps played off against each other by the three, what a poor, pitiful figure will America make in their eyes! How liable would she become not only to their contempt but to their outrage, and how soon would dearbought experience proclaim that when a people or family so divide, it never fails to be against themselves. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. V. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. JAY To the People of the State of New York: Queen Anne, in her letter of the 1st July, 1706, to the Scotch Parliament, makes some observations on the importance of the UNION then forming between England and Scotland, which merit our attention. I shall present the public with one or two extracts from it: An entire and perfect union will be the solid foundation of lasting peace: It will secure your religion, liberty, and property; remove the animosities amongst yourselves, and the jealousies and differences betwixt our two kingdoms. It must increase your strength, riches, and trade; and by this union the whole island, being joined in affection and free from all apprehensions of different interest, will be ENABLED TO RESIST ALL ITS ENEMIES. We most earnestly recommend to you calmness and unanimity in this great and weighty affair, that the union may be brought to a happy conclusion, being the only EFFECTUAL way to secure our present and future happiness, and disappoint the designs of our and your enemies, who will doubtless, on this occasion, USE THEIR UTMOST ENDEAVORS TO PREVENT OR DELAY THIS UNION. It was remarked in the preceding paper, that weakness and divisions at home would invite dangers from abroad; and that nothing would tend more to secure us from them than union, strength, and good government within ourselves. This subject is copious and cannot easily be exhausted. The history of Great Britain is the one with which we are in general the best acquainted, and it gives us many useful lessons. We may profit by their experience without paying the price which it cost them. Although it seems obvious to common sense that the people of such an island should be but one nation, yet we find that they were for ages divided into three, and that those three were almost constantly embroiled in quarrels and wars with one another. Notwithstanding their true interest with respect to the continental nations was really the same, yet by the arts and policy and practices of those nations, their mutual jealousies were perpetually kept inflamed, and for a long series of years they were far more inconvenient and troublesome than they were useful and assisting to each other. Should the people of America divide themselves into three or four nations, would not the same thing happen? Would not similar jealousies arise, and be in like manner cherished? Instead of their being joined in affection and free from all apprehension of different interests, envy and jealousy would soon extinguish confidence and affection, and the partial interests of each confederacy, instead of the general interests of all America, would be the only objects of their policy and pursuits. Hence, like most other BORDERING nations, they would always be either involved in disputes and war, or live in the constant apprehension of them. The most sanguine advocates for three or four confederacies cannot reasonably suppose that they would long remain exactly on an equal footing in point of strength, even if it was possible to form them so at first; but, admitting that to be practicable, yet what human contrivance can secure the continuance of such equality? Independent of those local circumstances which tend to beget and increase power in one part and to impede its progress in another, we must advert to the effects of that superior policy and good management which would probably distinguish the government of one above the rest, and by which their relative equality in strength and consideration would be destroyed. For it cannot be presumed that the same degree of sound policy, prudence, and foresight would uniformly be observed by each of these confederacies for a long succession of years. Whenever, and from whatever causes, it might happen, and happen it would, that any one of these nations or confederacies should rise on the scale of political importance much above the degree of her neighbors, that moment would those neighbors behold her with envy and with fear. Both those passions would lead them to countenance, if not to promote, whatever might promise to diminish her importance; and would also restrain them from measures calculated to advance or even to secure her prosperity. Much time would not be necessary to enable her to discern these unfriendly dispositions. She would soon begin, not only to lose confidence in her neighbors, but also to feel a disposition equally unfavorable to them. Distrust naturally creates distrust, and by nothing is goodwill and kind conduct more speedily changed than by invidious jealousies and uncandid imputations, whether expressed or implied. The North is generally the region of strength, and many local circumstances render it probable that the most Northern of the proposed confederacies would, at a period not very distant, be unquestionably more formidable than any of the others. No sooner would this become evident than the NORTHERN HIVE would excite the same ideas and sensations in the more southern parts of America which it formerly did in the southern parts of Europe. Nor does it appear to be a rash conjecture that its young swarms might often be tempted to gather honey in the more blooming fields and milder air of their luxurious and more delicate neighbors. They who well consider the history of similar divisions and confederacies will find abundant reason to apprehend that those in contemplation would in no other sense be neighbors than as they would be borderers; that they would neither love nor trust one another, but on the contrary would be a prey to discord, jealousy, and mutual injuries; in short, that they would place us exactly in the situations in which some nations doubtless wish to see us, viz., FORMIDABLE ONLY TO EACH OTHER. From these considerations it appears that those gentlemen are greatly mistaken who suppose that alliances offensive and defensive might be formed between these confederacies, and would produce that combination and union of wills of arms and of resources, which would be necessary to put and keep them in a formidable state of defense against foreign enemies. When did the independent states, into which Britain and Spain were formerly divided, combine in such alliance, or unite their forces against a foreign enemy? The proposed confederacies will be DISTINCT NATIONS. Each of them would have its commerce with foreigners to regulate by distinct treaties; and as their productions and commodities are different and proper for different markets, so would those treaties be essentially different. Different commercial concerns must create different interests, and of course different degrees of political attachment to and connection with different foreign nations. Hence it might and probably would happen that the foreign nation with whom the SOUTHERN confederacy might be at war would be the one with whom the NORTHERN confederacy would be the most desirous of preserving peace and friendship. An alliance so contrary to their immediate interest would not therefore be easy to form, nor, if formed, would it be observed and fulfilled with perfect good faith. Nay, it is far more probable that in America, as in Europe, neighboring nations, acting under the impulse of opposite interests and unfriendly passions, would frequently be found taking different sides. Considering our distance from Europe, it would be more natural for these confederacies to apprehend danger from one another than from distant nations, and therefore that each of them should be more desirous to guard against the others by the aid of foreign alliances, than to guard against foreign dangers by alliances between themselves. And here let us not forget how much more easy it is to receive foreign fleets into our ports, and foreign armies into our country, than it is to persuade or compel them to depart. How many conquests did the Romans and others make in the characters of allies, and what innovations did they under the same character introduce into the governments of those whom they pretended to protect. Let candid men judge, then, whether the division of America into any given number of independent sovereignties would tend to secure us against the hostilities and improper interference of foreign nations. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. VI. Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The three last numbers of this paper have been dedicated to an enumeration of the dangers to which we should be exposed, in a state of disunion, from the arms and arts of foreign nations. I shall now proceed to delineate dangers of a different and, perhaps, still more alarming kindthose which will in all probability flow from dissensions between the States themselves, and from domestic factions and convulsions. These have been already in some instances slightly anticipated; but they deserve a more particular and more full investigation. A man must be far gone in Utopian speculations who can seriously doubt that, if these States should either be wholly disunited, or only united in partial confederacies, the subdivisions into which they might be thrown would have frequent and violent contests with each other. To presume a want of motives for such contests as an argument against their existence, would be to forget that men are ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious. To look for a continuation of harmony between a number of independent, unconnected sovereignties in the same neighborhood, would be to disregard the uniform course of human events, and to set at defiance the accumulated experience of ages. The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable. There are some which have a general and almost constant operation upon the collective bodies of society. Of this description are the love of power or the desire of preeminence and dominionthe jealousy of power, or the desire of equality and safety. There are others which have a more circumscribed though an equally operative influence within their spheres. Such are the rivalships and competitions of commerce between commercial nations. And there are others, not less numerous than either of the former, which take their origin entirely in private passions; in the attachments, enmities, interests, hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which they are members. Men of this class, whether the favorites of a king or of a people, have in too many instances abused the confidence they possessed; and assuming the pretext of some public motive, have not scrupled to sacrifice the national tranquillity to personal advantage or personal gratification. The celebrated Pericles, in compliance with the resentment of a prostitute,1 at the expense of much of the blood and treasure of his countrymen, attacked, vanquished, and destroyed the city of the SAMNIANS. The same man, stimulated by private pique against the MEGARENSIANS,2 another nation of Greece, or to avoid a prosecution with which he was threatened as an accomplice of a supposed theft of the statuary Phidias,3 or to get rid of the accusations prepared to be brought against him for dissipating the funds of the state in the purchase of popularity,4 or from a combination of all these causes, was the primitive author of that famous and fatal war, distinguished in the Grecian annals by the name of the PELOPONNESIAN war; which, after various vicissitudes, intermissions, and renewals, terminated in the ruin of the Athenian commonwealth. The ambitious cardinal, who was prime minister to Henry VIII., permitting his vanity to aspire to the triple crown,5 entertained hopes of succeeding in the acquisition of that splendid prize by the influence of the Emperor Charles V. To secure the favor and interest of this enterprising and powerful monarch, he precipitated England into a war with France, contrary to the plainest dictates of policy, and at the hazard of the safety and independence, as well of the kingdom over which he presided by his counsels, as of Europe in general. For if there ever was a sovereign who bid fair to realize the project of universal monarchy, it was the Emperor Charles V., of whose intrigues Wolsey was at once the instrument and the dupe. The influence which the bigotry of one female,6 the petulance of another,7 and the cabals of a third,8 had in the contemporary policy, ferments, and pacifications, of a considerable part of Europe, are topics that have been too often descanted upon not to be generally known. To multiply examples of the agency of personal considerations in the production of great national events, either foreign or domestic, according to their direction, would be an unnecessary waste of time. Those who have but a superficial acquaintance with the sources from which they are to be drawn, will themselves recollect a variety of instances; and those who have a tolerable knowledge of human nature will not stand in need of such lights to form their opinion either of the reality or extent of that agency. Perhaps, however, a reference, tending to illustrate the general principle, may with propriety be made to a case which has lately happened among ourselves. If Shays had not been a DESPERATE DEBTOR, it is much to be doubted whether Massachusetts would have been plunged into a civil war. But notwithstanding the concurring testimony of experience, in this particular, there are still to be found visionary or designing men, who stand ready to advocate the paradox of perpetual peace between the States, though dismembered and alienated from each other. The genius of republics (say they) is pacific; the spirit of commerce has a tendency to soften the manners of men, and to extinguish those inflammable humors which have so often kindled into wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never be disposed to waste themselves in ruinous contentions with each other. They will be governed by mutual interest, and will cultivate a spirit of mutual amity and concord. Is it not (we may ask these projectors in politics) the true interest of all nations to cultivate the same benevolent and philosophic spirit? If this be their true interest, have they in fact pursued it? Has it not, on the contrary, invariably been found that momentary passions, and immediate interest, have a more active and imperious control over human conduct than general or remote considerations of policy, utility or justice? Have republics in practice been less addicted to war than monarchies? Are not the former administered by MEN as well as the latter? Are there not aversions, predilections, rivalships, and desires of unjust acquisitions, that affect nations as well as kings? Are not popular assemblies frequently subject to the impulses of rage, resentment, jealousy, avarice, and of other irregular and violent propensities? Is it not well known that their determinations are often governed by a few individuals in whom they place confidence, and are, of course, liable to be tinctured by the passions and views of those individuals? Has commerce hitherto done anything more than change the objects of war? Is not the love of wealth as domineering and enterprising a passion as that of power or glory? Have there not been as many wars founded upon commercial motives since that has become the prevailing system of nations, as were before occasioned by the cupidity of territory or dominion? Has not the spirit of commerce, in many instances, administered new incentives to the appetite, both for the one and for the other? Let experience, the least fallible guide of human opinions, be appealed to for an answer to these inquiries. Sparta, Athens, Rome, and Carthage were all republics; two of them, Athens and Carthage, of the commercial kind. Yet were they as often engaged in wars, offensive and defensive, as the neighboring monarchies of the same times. Sparta was little better than a wellregulated camp; and Rome was never sated of carnage and conquest. Carthage, though a commercial republic, was the aggressor in the very war that ended in her destruction. Hannibal had carried her arms into the heart of Italy and to the gates of Rome, before Scipio, in turn, gave him an overthrow in the territories of Carthage, and made a conquest of the commonwealth. Venice, in later times, figured more than once in wars of ambition, till, becoming an object to the other Italian states, Pope Julius II. found means to accomplish that formidable league,9 which gave a deadly blow to the power and pride of this haughty republic. The provinces of Holland, till they were overwhelmed in debts and taxes, took a leading and conspicuous part in the wars of Europe. They had furious contests with England for the dominion of the sea, and were among the most persevering and most implacable of the opponents of Louis XIV. In the government of Britain the representatives of the people compose one branch of the national legislature. Commerce has been for ages the predominant pursuit of that country. Few nations, nevertheless, have been more frequently engaged in war; and the wars in which that kingdom has been engaged have, in numerous instances, proceeded from the people. There have been, if I may so express it, almost as many popular as royal wars. The cries of the nation and the importunities of their representatives have, upon various occasions, dragged their monarchs into war, or continued them in it, contrary to their inclinations, and sometimes contrary to the real interests of the State. In that memorable struggle for superiority between the rival houses of AUSTRIA and BOURBON, which so long kept Europe in a flame, it is well known that the antipathies of the English against the French, seconding the ambition, or rather the avarice, of a favorite leader,10 protracted the war beyond the limits marked out by sound policy, and for a considerable time in opposition to the views of the court. The wars of these two lastmentioned nations have in a great measure grown out of commercial considerations;the desire of supplanting and the fear of being supplanted either in particular branches of traffic, or in the general advantages of trade and navigation; and sometimes even the more culpable desire of sharing in the commerce of other nations, without their consent. The last war but two between Britain and Spain, sprang from the attempts of the English merchants, to prosecute an illicit trade with the Spanish main. These unjustifiable practices on their part, produced severities on the part of the Spaniards, towards the subjects of Great Britain, which were not more justifiable; because they exceeded the bounds of a just retaliation, and were chargeable with inhumanity and cruelty. Many of the English who were taken on the Spanish coasts, were sent to dig in the mines of Potosi; and by the usual progress of a spirit of resentment, the innocent were after a while confounded with the guilty in indiscriminate punishment. The complaints of the merchants kindled a violent flame throughout the nation, which soon after broke out in the House of Commons, and was communicated from the body to the ministry. Letters of reprisal were granted, and a war ensued; which, in its consequences, overthrew all the alliances that but twenty years before had been formed, with sanguine expectations of the most beneficial fruits. From this summary of what has taken place in other countries, whose situations have borne the nearest resemblance to our own, what reason can we have to confide in those reveries which would seduce us into an expectation of peace and cordiality between the members of the present confederacy, in a state of separation? Have we not already seen enough of the fallacy and extravagance of those idle theories which have amused us with promises of an exemption from the imperfections, weaknesses and evils incident to society in every shape? Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden age, and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our political conduct that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and perfect virtue? Let the point of extreme depression to which our national dignity and credit have sunk, let the inconveniences felt everywhere from a lax and ill administration of government, let the revolt of a part of the State of North Carolina, the late menacing disturbances in Pennsylvania, and the actual insurrections and rebellions in Massachusetts, declare! So far is the general sense of mankind from corresponding with the tenets of those who endeavor to lull asleep our apprehensions of discord and hostility between the States, in the event of disunion, that it has from long observation of the progress of society become a sort of axiom in politics, that vicinity or nearness of situation, constitutes nations natural enemies. An intelligent writer expresses himself on this subject to this effect: NEIGHBORING NATIONS (says he) are naturally enemies of each other unless their common weakness forces them to league in a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC, and their constitution prevents the differences that neighborhood occasions, extinguishing that secret jealousy which disposes all states to aggrandize themselves at the expense of their neighbors.11 This passage, at the same time, points out the EVIL and suggests the REMEDY. PUBLIUS. 1 Aspasia, vide Plutarchs Life of Pericles. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. Phidias was supposed to have stolen some public gold, with the connivance of Pericles, for the embellishment of the statue of Minerva. 4 Ibid. 5 Worn by the popes. 6 Madame de Maintenon. 7 Duchess of Marlborough. 8 Madame de Pompadour. 9 The League of Cambray, comprehending the Emperor, the King of France, the King of Aragon, and most of the Italian princes and states. 10 The Duke of Marlborough. 11 Vide Principes des Ngociations par lAbb de Mably. THE FEDERALIST. No. VII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It is sometimes asked, with an air of seeming triumph, what inducements could the States have, if disunited, to make war upon each other? It would be a full answer to this question to sayprecisely the same inducements which have, at different times, deluged in blood all the nations in the world. But, unfortunately for us, the question admits of a more particular answer. There are causes of differences within our immediate contemplation, of the tendency of which, even under the restraints of a federal constitution, we have had sufficient experience to enable us to form a judgment of what might be expected if those restraints were removed. Territorial disputes have at all times been found one of the most fertile sources of hostility among nations. Perhaps the greatest proportion of wars that have desolated the earth have sprung from this origin. This cause would exist among us in full force. We have a vast tract of unsettled territory within the boundaries of the United States. There still are discordant and undecided claims between several of them, and the dissolution of the Union would lay a foundation for similar claims between them all. It is well known that they have heretofore had serious and animated discussion concerning the rights to the lands which were ungranted at the time of the Revolution, and which usually went under the name of crown lands. The States within the limits of whose colonial governments they were comprised have claimed them as their property, the others have contended that the rights of the crown in this article devolved upon the Union; especially as to all that part of the Western territory which, either by actual possession, or through the submission of the Indian proprietors, was subjected to the jurisdiction of the king of Great Britain, till it was relinquished in the treaty of peace. This, it has been said, was at all events an acquisition to the Confederacy by compact with a foreign power. It has been the prudent policy of Congress to appease this controversy, by prevailing upon the States to make cessions to the United States for the benefit of the whole. This has been so far accomplished as, under a continuation of the Union, to afford a decided prospect of an amicable termination of the dispute. A dismemberment of the Confederacy, however, would revive this dispute, and would create others on the same subject. At present, a large part of the vacant Western territory is, by cession at least, if not by any anterior right, the common property of the Union. If that were at an end, the States which made the cession, on a principle of federal compromise, would be apt when the motive of the grant had ceased, to reclaim the lands as a reversion. The other States would no doubt insist on a proportion, by right of representation. Their argument would be, that a grant, once made, could not be revoked; and that the justice of participating in territory acquired or secured by the joint efforts of the Confederacy, remained undiminished. If, contrary to probability, it should be admitted by all the States, that each had a right to a share of this common stock, there would still be a difficulty to be surmounted, as to a proper rule of apportionment. Different principles would be set up by different States for this purpose; and as they would affect the opposite interests of the parties, they might not easily be susceptible of a pacific adjustment. In the wide field of Western territory, therefore, we perceive an ample theatre for hostile pretensions, without any umpire or common judge to interpose between the contending parties. To reason from the past to the future, we shall have good ground to apprehend, that the sword would sometimes be appealed to as the arbiter of their differences. The circumstances of the dispute between Connecticut and Pennsylvania, respecting the land at Wyoming, admonish us not to be sanguine in expecting an easy accommodation of such differences. The articles of confederation obliged the parties to submit the matter to the decision of a federal court. The submission was made, and the court decided in favor of Pennsylvania. But Connecticut gave strong indications of dissatisfaction with that determination; nor did she appear to be entirely resigned to it, till, by negotiation and management, something like an equivalent was found for the loss she supposed herself to have sustained. Nothing here said is intended to convey the slightest censure on the conduct of that State. She no doubt sincerely believed herself to have been injured by the decision; and States, like individuals, acquiesce with great reluctance in determinations to their disadvantage. Those who had an opportunity of seeing the inside of the transactions which attended the progress of the controversy between this State and the district of Vermont, can vouch the opposition we experienced, as well from States not interested as from those which were interested in the claim; and can attest the danger to which the peace of the Confederacy might have been exposed, had this State attempted to assert its rights by force. Two motives preponderated in that opposition: one, a jealousy entertained of our future power; and the other, the interest of certain individuals of influence in the neighboring States, who had obtained grants of lands under the actual government of that district. Even the States which brought forward claims, in contradiction to ours, seemed more solicitous to dismember this State, than to establish their own pretensions. These were New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. New Jersey and Rhode Island, upon all occasions, discovered a warm zeal for the independence of Vermont; and Maryland, till alarmed by the appearance of a connection between Canada and that State, entered deeply into the same views. These being small States, saw with an unfriendly eye the perspective of our growing greatness. In a review of these transactions we may trace some of the causes which would be likely to embroil the States with each other, if it should be their unpropitious destiny to become disunited. The competitions of commerce would be another fruitful source of contention. The States less favorably circumstanced would be desirous of escaping from the disadvantages of local situation, and of sharing in the advantages of their more fortunate neighbors. Each State, or separate confederacy, would pursue a system of commercial policy peculiar to itself. This would occasion distinctions, preferences, and exclusions, which would beget discontent. The habits of intercourse, on the basis of equal privileges, to which we have been accustomed since the earliest settlement of the country, would give a keener edge to those causes of discontent than they would naturally have independent of this circumstance. WE SHOULD BE READY TO DENOMINATE INJURIES THOSE THINGS WHICH WERE IN REALITY THE JUSTIFIABLE ACTS OF INDEPENDENT SOVEREIGNTIES CONSULTING A DISTINCT INTEREST. The spirit of enterprise, which characterizes the commercial part of America, has left no occasion of displaying itself unimproved. It is not at all probable that this unbridled spirit would pay much respect to those regulations of trade by which particular States might endeavor to secure exclusive benefits to their own citizens. The infractions of these regulations, on one side, the efforts to prevent and repel them, on the other, would naturally lead to outrages, and these to reprisals and wars. The opportunities which some States would have of rendering others tributary to them by commercial regulations would be impatiently submitted to by the tributary States. The relative situation of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey would afford an example of this kind. New York, from the necessities of revenue, must lay duties on her importations. A great part of these duties must be paid by the inhabitants of the two other States in the capacity of consumers of what we import. New York would neither be willing nor able to forego this advantage. Her citizens would not consent that a duty paid by them should be remitted in favor of the citizens of her neighbors; nor would it be practicable, if there were not this impediment in the way, to distinguish the customers in our own markets. Would Connecticut and New Jersey long submit to be taxed by New York for her exclusive benefit? Should we be long permitted to remain in the quiet and undisturbed enjoyment of a metropolis, from the possession of which we derived an advantage so odious to our neighbors, and, in their opinion, so oppressive? Should we be able to preserve it against the incumbent weight of Connecticut on the one side, and the cooperating pressure of New Jersey on the other? These are questions that temerity alone will answer in the affirmative. The public debt of the Union would be a further cause of collision between the separate States or confederacies. The apportionment, in the first instance, and the progressive extinguishment afterward, would be alike productive of illhumor and animosity. How would it be possible to agree upon a rule of apportionment satisfactory to all? There is scarcely any that can be proposed which is entirely free from real objections. These, as usual, would be exaggerated by the adverse interest of the parties. There are even dissimilar views among the States as to the general principle of discharging the public debt. Some of them, either less impressed with the importance of national credit, or because their citizens have little, if any, immediate interest in the question, feel an indifference, if not a repugnance, to the payment of the domestic debt at any rate. These would be inclined to magnify the difficulties of a distribution. Others of them, a numerous body of whose citizens are creditors to the public beyond proportion of the State in the total amount of the national debt, would be strenuous for some equitable and effective provision. The procrastinations of the former would excite the resentments of the latter. The settlement of a rule would, in the meantime, be postponed by real differences of opinion and affected delays. The citizens of the States interested would clamour; foreign powers would urge for the satisfaction of their just demands, and the peace of the States would be hazarded to the double contingency of external invasion and internal contention. Suppose the difficulties of agreeing upon a rule surmounted, and the apportionment made. Still there is great room to suppose that the rule agreed upon would, upon experiment, be found to bear harder upon some States than upon others. Those which were sufferers by it would naturally seek for a mitigation of the burden. The others would as naturally be disinclined to a revision, which was likely to end in an increase of their own incumbrances. Their refusal would be too plausible a pretext to the complaining States to withhold their contributions, not to be embraced with avidity; and the noncompliance of these States with their engagements would be a ground of bitter discussion and altercation. If even the rule adopted should in practice justify the equality of its principle, still delinquencies in payments on the part of some of the States would result from a diversity of other causesthe real deficiency of resources; the mismanagement of their finances; accidental disorders in the management of the government; and, in addition to the rest, the reluctance with which men commonly part with money for purposes that have outlived the exigencies which produced them, and interfere with the supply of immediate wants. Delinquencies, from whatever causes, would be productive of complaints, recriminations, and quarrels. There is, perhaps, nothing more likely to disturb the tranquillity of nations than their being bound to mutual contributions for any common object that does not yield an equal and coincident benefit. For it is an observation, as true as it is trite, that there is nothing men differ so readily about as the payment of money. Laws in violation of private contracts, as they amount to aggressions on the rights of those States whose citizens are injured by them, may be considered as another probable source of hostility. We are not authorized to expect that a more liberal or more equitable spirit would preside over the legislations of the individual States hereafter, if unrestrained by any additional checks, than we have heretofore seen in too many instances disgracing their several codes. We have observed the disposition to retaliation excited in Connecticut in consequence of the enormities perpetrated by the Legislature of Rhode Island; and we reasonably infer that, in similar cases, under other circumstances, a war, not of PARCHMENT, but of the sword, would chastise such atrocious breaches of moral obligation and social justice. The probability of incompatible alliances between the different States or confederacies and different foreign nations, and the effects of this situation upon the peace of the whole, have been sufficiently unfolded in some preceding papers. From the view they have exhibited of this part of the subject, this conclusion is to be drawn, that America, if not connected at all, or only by the feeble tie of a simple league, offensive and defensive, would, by the operation of such jarring alliances, be gradually entangled in all the pernicious labyrinths of European politics and wars; and by the destructive contentions of the parts into which she was divided, would be likely to become a prey to the artifices and machinations of powers equally the enemies of them all. Divide et impera1 must be the motto of every nation that either hates or fears us.2 PUBLIUS. 1 Divide and command. 2 In order that the whole subject of these papers may as soon as possible be laid before the public, it is proposed to publish them four times a weekon Tuesday in the New York Packet and on Thursday in the Daily Advertiser. THE FEDERALIST. No. VIII. The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States From the New York Packet. Tuesday, November 20, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Assuming it therefore as an established truth that the several States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy, would be subject to those vicissitudes of peace and war, of friendship and enmity, with each other, which have fallen to the lot of all neighboring nations not united under one government, let us enter into a concise detail of some of the consequences that would attend such a situation. War between the States, in the first period of their separate existence, would be accompanied with much greater distresses than it commonly is in those countries where regular military establishments have long obtained. The disciplined armies always kept on foot on the continent of Europe, though they bear a malignant aspect to liberty and economy, have, notwithstanding, been productive of the signal advantage of rendering sudden conquests impracticable, and of preventing that rapid desolation which used to mark the progress of war prior to their introduction. The art of fortification has contributed to the same ends. The nations of Europe are encircled with chains of fortified places, which mutually obstruct invasion. Campaigns are wasted in reducing two or three frontier garrisons, to gain admittance into an enemys country. Similar impediments occur at every step, to exhaust the strength and delay the progress of an invader. Formerly, an invading army would penetrate into the heart of a neighboring country almost as soon as intelligence of its approach could be received; but now a comparatively small force of disciplined troops, acting on the defensive, with the aid of posts, is able to impede, and finally to frustrate, the enterprises of one much more considerable. The history of war, in that quarter of the globe, is no longer a history of nations subdued and empires overturned, but of towns taken and retaken; of battles that decide nothing; of retreats more beneficial than victories; of much effort and little acquisition. In this country the scene would be altogether reversed. The jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as long as possible. The want of fortifications, leaving the frontiers of one state open to another, would facilitate inroads. The populous States would, with little difficulty, overrun their less populous neighbors. Conquests would be as easy to be made as difficult to be retained. War, therefore, would be desultory and predatory. PLUNDER and devastation ever march in the train of irregulars. The calamities of individuals would make the principal figure in the events which would characterize our military exploits. This picture is not too highly wrought; though, I confess, it would not long remain a just one. Safety from external danger is the most powerful director of national conduct. Even the ardent love of liberty will, after a time, give way to its dictates. The violent destruction of life and property incident to war, the continual effort and alarm attendant on a state of continual danger, will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for repose and security to institutions which have a tendency to destroy their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they at length become willing to run the risk of being less free. The institutions chiefly alluded to are STANDING ARMIES and the correspondent appendages of military establishments. Standing armies, it is said, are not provided against in the new Constitution; and it is therefore inferred that they may exist under it.1 Their existence, however, from the very terms of the proposition, is, at most, problematical and uncertain. But standing armies, it may be replied, must inevitably result from a dissolution of the Confederacy. Frequent war and constant apprehension, which require a state of as constant preparation, will infallibly produce them. The weaker States or confederacies would first have recourse to them, to put themselves upon an equality with their more potent neighbors. They would endeavor to supply the inferiority of population and resources by a more regular and effective system of defense, by disciplined troops, and by fortifications. They would, at the same time, be necessitated to strengthen the executive arm of government, in doing which their constitutions would acquire a progressive direction toward monarchy. It is of the nature of war to increase the executive at the expense of the legislative authority. The expedients which have been mentioned would soon give the States or confederacies that made use of them a superiority over their neighbors. Small states, or states of less natural strength, under vigorous governments, and with the assistance of disciplined armies, have often triumphed over large states, or states of greater natural strength, which have been destitute of these advantages. Neither the pride nor the safety of the more important States or confederacies would permit them long to submit to this mortifying and adventitious superiority. They would quickly resort to means similar to those by which it had been effected, to reinstate themselves in their lost preeminence. Thus, we should, in a little time, see established in every part of this country the same engines of despotism which have been the scourge of the Old World. This, at least, would be the natural course of things; and our reasonings will be the more likely to be just, in proportion as they are accommodated to this standard. These are not vague inferences drawn from supposed or speculative defects in a Constitution, the whole power of which is lodged in the hands of a people, or their representatives and delegates, but they are solid conclusions, drawn from the natural and necessary progress of human affairs. It may, perhaps, be asked, by way of objection to this, why did not standing armies spring up out of the contentions which so often distracted the ancient republics of Greece? Different answers, equally satisfactory, may be given to this question. The industrious habits of the people of the present day, absorbed in the pursuits of gain, and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and commerce, are incompatible with the condition of a nation of soldiers, which was the true condition of the people of those republics. The means of revenue, which have been so greatly multiplied by the increase of gold and silver and of the arts of industry, and the science of finance, which is the offspring of modern times, concurring with the habits of nations, have produced an entire revolution in the system of war, and have rendered disciplined armies, distinct from the body of the citizens, the inseparable companions of frequent hostility. There is a wide difference, also, between military establishments in a country seldom exposed by its situation to internal invasions, and in one which is often subject to them, and always apprehensive of them. The rulers of the former can have a good pretext, if they are even so inclined, to keep on foot armies so numerous as must of necessity be maintained in the latter. These armies being, in the first case, rarely, if at all, called into activity for interior defense, the people are in no danger of being broken to military subordination. The laws are not accustomed to relaxations, in favor of military exigencies; the civil state remains in full vigor, neither corrupted, nor confounded with the principles or propensities of the other state. The smallness of the army renders the natural strength of the community an overmatch for it; and the citizens, not habituated to look up to the military power for protection, or to submit to its oppressions, neither love nor fear the soldiery; they view them with a spirit of jealous acquiescence in a necessary evil, and stand ready to resist a power which they suppose may be exerted to the prejudice of their rights. The army under such circumstances may usefully aid the magistrate to suppress a small faction, or an occasional mob, or insurrection; but it will be unable to enforce encroachments against the united efforts of the great body of the people. In a country in the predicament last described, the contrary of all this happens. The perpetual menacings of danger oblige the government to be always prepared to repel it; its armies must be numerous enough for instant defense. The continual necessity for their services enhances the importance of the soldier, and proportionably degrades the condition of the citizen. The military state becomes elevated above the civil. The inhabitants of territories, often the theatre of war, are unavoidably subjected to frequent infringements on their rights, which serve to weaken their sense of those rights; and by degrees the people are brought to consider the soldiery not only as their protectors, but as their superiors. The transition from this disposition to that of considering them masters, is neither remote nor difficult; but it is very difficult to prevail upon a people under such impressions, to make a bold or effectual resistance to usurpations supported by the military power. The kingdom of Great Britain falls within the first description. An insular situation, and a powerful marine, guarding it in a great measure against the possibility of foreign invasion, supersede the necessity of a numerous army within the kingdom. A sufficient force to make head against a sudden descent, till the militia could have time to rally and embody, is all that has been deemed requisite. No motive of national policy has demanded, nor would public opinion have tolerated, a larger number of troops upon its domestic establishment. There has been, for a long time past, little room for the operation of the other causes, which have been enumerated as the consequences of internal war. This peculiar felicity of situation has, in a great degree, contributed to preserve the liberty which that country to this day enjoys, in spite of the prevalent venality and corruption. If, on the contrary, Britain had been situated on the continent, and had been compelled, as she would have been, by that situation, to make her military establishments at home coextensive with those of the other great powers of Europe, she, like them, would in all probability be, at this day, a victim to the absolute power of a single man. T is possible, though not easy, that the people of that island may be enslaved from other causes; but it cannot be by the prowess of an army so inconsiderable as that which has been usually kept up within the kingdom. If we are wise enough to preserve the Union we may for ages enjoy an advantage similar to that of an insulated situation. Europe is at a great distance from us. Her colonies in our vicinity will be likely to continue too much disproportioned in strength to be able to give us any dangerous annoyance. Extensive military establishments cannot, in this position, be necessary to our security. But if we should be disunited, and the integral parts should either remain separated, or, which is most probable, should be thrown together into two or three confederacies, we should be, in a short course of time, in the predicament of the continental powers of Europe our liberties would be a prey to the means of defending ourselves against the ambition and jealousy of each other. This is an idea not superficial or futile, but solid and weighty. It deserves the most serious and mature consideration of every prudent and honest man of whatever party. If such men will make a firm and solemn pause, and meditate dispassionately on the importance of this interesting idea; if they will contemplate it in all its attitudes, and trace it to all its consequences, they will not hesitate to part with trivial objections to a Constitution, the rejection of which would in all probability put a final period to the Union. The airy phantoms that flit before the distempered imaginations of some of its adversaries would quickly give place to the more substantial forms of dangers, real, certain, and formidable. PUBLIUS. 1 This objection will be fully examined in its proper place, and it will be shown that the only natural precaution which could have been taken on this subject has been taken; and a much better one than is to be found in any constitution that has been heretofore framed in America, most of which contain no guard at all on this subject. THE FEDERALIST. No. IX. The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: A firm Union will be of the utmost moment to the peace and liberty of the States, as a barrier against domestic faction and insurrection. It is impossible to read the history of the petty republics of Greece and Italy without feeling sensations of horror and disgust at the distractions with which they were continually agitated, and at the rapid succession of revolutions by which they were kept in a state of perpetual vibration between the extremes of tyranny and anarchy. If they exhibit occasional calms, these only serve as shortlived contrast to the furious storms that are to succeed. If now and then intervals of felicity open to view, we behold them with a mixture of regret, arising from the reflection that the pleasing scenes before us are soon to be overwhelmed by the tempestuous waves of sedition and party rage. If momentary rays of glory break forth from the gloom, while they dazzle us with a transient and fleeting brilliancy, they at the same time admonish us to lament that the vices of government should pervert the direction and tarnish the lustre of those bright talents and exalted endowments for which the favored soils that produced them have been so justly celebrated. From the disorders that disfigure the annals of those republics the advocates of despotism have drawn arguments, not only against the forms of republican government, but against the very principles of civil liberty. They have decried all free government as inconsistent with the order of society, and have indulged themselves in malicious exultation over its friends and partisans. Happily for mankind, stupendous fabrics reared on the basis of liberty, which have flourished for ages, have, in a few glorious instances, refuted their gloomy sophisms. And, I trust, America will be the broad and solid foundation of other edifices, not less magnificent, which will be equally permanent monuments of their errors. But it is not to be denied that the portraits they have sketched of republican government were too just copies of the originals from which they were taken. If it had been found impracticable to have devised models of a more perfect structure, the enlightened friends to liberty would have been obliged to abandon the cause of that species of government as indefensible. The science of politics, however, like most other sciences, has received great improvement. The efficacy of various principles is now well understood, which were either not known at all, or imperfectly known to the ancients. The regular distribution of power into distinct departments; the introduction of legislative balances and checks; the institution of courts composed of judges holding their offices during good behavior; the representation of the people in the legislature by deputies of their own election: these are wholly new discoveries, or have made their principal progress towards perfection in modern times. They are means, and powerful means, by which the excellences of republican government may be retained and its imperfections lessened or avoided. To this catalogue of circumstances that tend to the amelioration of popular systems of civil government, I shall venture, however novel it may appear to some, to add one more, on a principle which has been made the foundation of an objection to the new Constitution; I mean the ENLARGEMENT of the ORBIT within which such systems are to revolve, either in respect to the dimensions of a single State or to the consolidation of several smaller States into one great Confederacy. The latter is that which immediately concerns the object under consideration. It will, however, be of use to examine the principle in its application to a single State, which shall be attended to in another place. The utility of a Confederacy, as well to suppress faction and to guard the internal tranquillity of States, as to increase their external force and security, is in reality not a new idea. It has been practiced upon in different countries and ages, and has received the sanction of the most approved writers on the subject of politics. The opponents of the plan proposed have, with great assiduity, cited and circulated the observations of Montesquieu on the necessity of a contracted territory for a republican government. But they seem not to have been apprised of the sentiments of that great man expressed in another part of his work, nor to have adverted to the consequences of the principle to which they subscribe with such ready acquiescence. When Montesquieu recommends a small extent for republics, the standards he had in view were of dimensions far short of the limits of almost every one of these States. Neither Virginia, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New York, North Carolina, nor Georgia can by any means be compared with the models from which he reasoned and to which the terms of his description apply. If we therefore take his ideas on this point as the criterion of truth, we shall be driven to the alternative either of taking refuge at once in the arms of monarchy, or of splitting ourselves into an infinity of little, jealous, clashing, tumultuous commonwealths, the wretched nurseries of unceasing discord, and the miserable objects of universal pity or contempt. Some of the writers who have come forward on the other side of the question seem to have been aware of the dilemma; and have even been bold enough to hint at the division of the larger States as a desirable thing. Such an infatuated policy, such a desperate expedient, might, by the multiplication of petty offices, answer the views of men who possess not qualifications to extend their influence beyond the narrow circles of personal intrigue, but it could never promote the greatness or happiness of the people of America. Referring the examination of the principle itself to another place, as has been already mentioned, it will be sufficient to remark here that, in the sense of the author who has been most emphatically quoted upon the occasion, it would only dictate a reduction of the SIZE of the more considerable MEMBERS of the Union, but would not militate against their being all comprehended in one confederate government. And this is the true question, in the discussion of which we are at present interested. So far are the suggestions of Montesquieu from standing in opposition to a general Union of the States, that he explicitly treats of a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC as the expedient for extending the sphere of popular government, and reconciling the advantages of monarchy with those of republicanism. It is very probable, (says he1) that mankind would have been obliged at length to live constantly under the government of a single person, had they not contrived a kind of constitution that has all the internal advantages of a republican, together with the external force of a monarchical government. I mean a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC. This form of government is a convention by which several smaller STATES agree to become members of a larger ONE, which they intend to form. It is a kind of assemblage of societies that constitute a new one, capable of increasing, by means of new associations, till they arrive to such a degree of power as to be able to provide for the security of the united body. A republic of this kind, able to withstand an external force, may support itself without any internal corruptions. The form of this society prevents all manner of inconveniences. If a single member should attempt to usurp the supreme authority, he could not be supposed to have an equal authority and credit in all the confederate states. Were he to have too great influence over one, this would alarm the rest. Were he to subdue a part, that which would still remain free might oppose him with forces independent of those which he had usurped and overpower him before he could be settled in his usurpation. Should a popular insurrection happen in one of the confederate states the others are able to quell it. Should abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound. The state may be destroyed on one side, and not on the other; the confederacy may be dissolved, and the confederates preserve their sovereignty. As this government is composed of small republics, it enjoys the internal happiness of each; and with respect to its external situation, it is possessed, by means of the association, of all the advantages of large monarchies. I have thought it proper to quote at length these interesting passages, because they contain a luminous abridgment of the principal arguments in favor of the Union, and must effectually remove the false impressions which a misapplication of other parts of the work was calculated to make. They have, at the same time, an intimate connection with the more immediate design of this paper; which is, to illustrate the tendency of the Union to repress domestic faction and insurrection. A distinction, more subtle than accurate, has been raised between a CONFEDERACY and a CONSOLIDATION of the States. The essential characteristic of the first is said to be, the restriction of its authority to the members in their collective capacities, without reaching to the individuals of whom they are composed. It is contended that the national council ought to have no concern with any object of internal administration. An exact equality of suffrage between the members has also been insisted upon as a leading feature of a confederate government. These positions are, in the main, arbitrary; they are supported neither by principle nor precedent. It has indeed happened, that governments of this kind have generally operated in the manner which the distinction taken notice of, supposes to be inherent in their nature; but there have been in most of them extensive exceptions to the practice, which serve to prove, as far as example will go, that there is no absolute rule on the subject. And it will be clearly shown in the course of this investigation that as far as the principle contended for has prevailed, it has been the cause of incurable disorder and imbecility in the government. The definition of a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC seems simply to be an assemblage of societies, or an association of two or more states into one state. The extent, modifications, and objects of the federal authority are mere matters of discretion. So long as the separate organization of the members be not abolished; so long as it exists, by a constitutional necessity, for local purposes; though it should be in perfect subordination to the general authority of the union, it would still be, in fact and in theory, an association of states, or a confederacy. The proposed Constitution, so far from implying an abolition of the State governments, makes them constituent parts of the national sovereignty, by allowing them a direct representation in the Senate, and leaves in their possession certain exclusive and very important portions of sovereign power. This fully corresponds, in every rational import of the terms, with the idea of a federal government. In the Lycian confederacy, which consisted of twentythree CITIES or republics, the largest were entitled to THREE votes in the COMMON COUNCIL, those of the middle class to TWO, and the smallest to ONE. The COMMON COUNCIL had the appointment of all the judges and magistrates of the respective CITIES. This was certainly the most, delicate species of interference in their internal administration; for if there be any thing that seems exclusively appropriated to the local jurisdictions, it is the appointment of their own officers. Yet Montesquieu, speaking of this association, says: Were I to give a model of an excellent Confederate Republic, it would be that of Lycia. Thus we perceive that the distinctions insisted upon were not within the contemplation of this enlightened civilian; and we shall be led to conclude, that they are the novel refinements of an erroneous theory. PUBLIUS. 1 Spirit of Laws, vol. i., book ix., chap. i. THE FEDERALIST. No. X. The Same Subject Continued (The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection) From the New York Packet. Friday, November 23, 1787. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Among the numerous advantages promised by a wellconstructed Union, none deserves to be more accurately developed than its tendency to break and control the violence of faction. The friend of popular governments never finds himself so much alarmed for their character and fate, as when he contemplates their propensity to this dangerous vice. He will not fail, therefore, to set a due value on any plan which, without violating the principles to which he is attached, provides a proper cure for it. The instability, injustice, and confusion introduced into the public councils, have, in truth, been the mortal diseases under which popular governments have everywhere perished; as they continue to be the favorite and fruitful topics from which the adversaries to liberty derive their most specious declamations. The valuable improvements made by the American constitutions on the popular models, both ancient and modern, cannot certainly be too much admired; but it would be an unwarrantable partiality, to contend that they have as effectually obviated the danger on this side, as was wished and expected. Complaints are everywhere heard from our most considerate and virtuous citizens, equally the friends of public and private faith, and of public and personal liberty, that our governments are too unstable, that the public good is disregarded in the conflicts of rival parties, and that measures are too often decided, not according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority. However anxiously we may wish that these complaints had no foundation, the evidence, of known facts will not permit us to deny that they are in some degree true. It will be found, indeed, on a candid review of our situation, that some of the distresses under which we labor have been erroneously charged on the operation of our governments; but it will be found, at the same time, that other causes will not alone account for many of our heaviest misfortunes; and, particularly, for that prevailing and increasing distrust of public engagements, and alarm for private rights, which are echoed from one end of the continent to the other. These must be chiefly, if not wholly, effects of the unsteadiness and injustice with which a factious spirit has tainted our public administrations. By a faction, I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adversed to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community. There are two methods of curing the mischiefs of faction: the one, by removing its causes; the other, by controlling its effects. There are again two methods of removing the causes of faction: the one, by destroying the liberty which is essential to its existence; the other, by giving to every citizen the same opinions, the same passions, and the same interests. It could never be more truly said than of the first remedy, that it was worse than the disease. Liberty is to faction what air is to fire, an aliment without which it instantly expires. But it could not be less folly to abolish liberty, which is essential to political life, because it nourishes faction, than it would be to wish the annihilation of air, which is essential to animal life, because it imparts to fire its destructive agency. The second expedient is as impracticable as the first would be unwise. As long as the reason of man continues fallible, and he is at liberty to exercise it, different opinions will be formed. As long as the connection subsists between his reason and his selflove, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal influence on each other; and the former will be objects to which the latter will attach themselves. The diversity in the faculties of men, from which the rights of property originate, is not less an insuperable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. The protection of these faculties is the first object of government. From the protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring property, the possession of different degrees and kinds of property immediately results; and from the influence of these on the sentiments and views of the respective proprietors, ensues a division of the society into different interests and parties. The latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man; and we see them everywhere brought into different degrees of activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society. A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of practice; an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending for preeminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions, have, in turn, divided mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress each other than to cooperate for their common good. So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities, that where no substantial occasion presents itself, the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts. But the most common and durable source of factions has been the various and unequal distribution of property. Those who hold and those who are without property have ever formed distinct interests in society. Those who are creditors, and those who are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views. The regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the principal task of modern legislation, and involves the spirit of party and faction in the necessary and ordinary operations of the government. No man is allowed to be a judge in his own cause, because his interest would certainly bias his judgment, and, not improbably, corrupt his integrity. With equal, nay with greater reason, a body of men are unfit to be both judges and parties at the same time; yet what are many of the most important acts of legislation, but so many judicial determinations, not indeed concerning the rights of single persons, but concerning the rights of large bodies of citizens? And what are the different classes of legislators but advocates and parties to the causes which they determine? Is a law proposed concerning private debts? It is a question to which the creditors are parties on one side and the debtors on the other. Justice ought to hold the balance between them. Yet the parties are, and must be, themselves the judges; and the most numerous party, or, in other words, the most powerful faction must be expected to prevail. Shall domestic manufactures be encouraged, and in what degree, by restrictions on foreign manufactures? are questions which would be differently decided by the landed and the manufacturing classes, and probably by neither with a sole regard to justice and the public good. The apportionment of taxes on the various descriptions of property is an act which seems to require the most exact impartiality; yet there is, perhaps, no legislative act in which greater opportunity and temptation are given to a predominant party to trample on the rules of justice. Every shilling with which they overburden the inferior number, is a shilling saved to their own pockets. It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust these clashing interests, and render them all subservient to the public good. Enlightened statesmen will not always be at the helm. Nor, in many cases, can such an adjustment be made at all without taking into view indirect and remote considerations, which will rarely prevail over the immediate interest which one party may find in disregarding the rights of another or the good of the whole. The inference to which we are brought is, that the CAUSES of faction cannot be removed, and that relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its EFFECTS. If a faction consists of less than a majority, relief is supplied by the republican principle, which enables the majority to defeat its sinister views by regular vote. It may clog the administration, it may convulse the society; but it will be unable to execute and mask its violence under the forms of the Constitution. When a majority is included in a faction, the form of popular government, on the other hand, enables it to sacrifice to its ruling passion or interest both the public good and the rights of other citizens. To secure the public good and private rights against the danger of such a faction, and at the same time to preserve the spirit and the form of popular government, is then the great object to which our inquiries are directed. Let me add that it is the great desideratum by which this form of government can be rescued from the opprobrium under which it has so long labored, and be recommended to the esteem and adoption of mankind. By what means is this object attainable? Evidently by one of two only. Either the existence of the same passion or interest in a majority at the same time must be prevented, or the majority, having such coexistent passion or interest, must be rendered, by their number and local situation, unable to concert and carry into effect schemes of oppression. If the impulse and the opportunity be suffered to coincide, we well know that neither moral nor religious motives can be relied on as an adequate control. They are not found to be such on the injustice and violence of individuals, and lose their efficacy in proportion to the number combined together, that is, in proportion as their efficacy becomes needful. From this view of the subject it may be concluded that a pure democracy, by which I mean a society consisting of a small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the government in person, can admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the whole; a communication and concert result from the form of government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker party or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is that such democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths. Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of government, have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions. A republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme of representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in which it varies from pure democracy, and we shall comprehend both the nature of the cure and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union. The two great points of difference between a democracy and a republic are: first, the delegation of the government, in the latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest; secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of country, over which the latter may be extended. The effect of the first difference is, on the one hand, to refine and enlarge the public views, by passing them through the medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best discern the true interest of their country, and whose patriotism and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial considerations. Under such a regulation, it may well happen that the public voice, pronounced by the representatives of the people, will be more consonant to the public good than if pronounced by the people themselves, convened for the purpose. On the other hand, the effect may be inverted. Men of factious tempers, of local prejudices, or of sinister designs, may, by intrigue, by corruption, or by other means, first obtain the suffrages, and then betray the interests, of the people. The question resulting is, whether small or extensive republics are more favorable to the election of proper guardians of the public weal; and it is clearly decided in favor of the latter by two obvious considerations: In the first place, it is to be remarked that, however small the republic may be, the representatives must be raised to a certain number, in order to guard against the cabals of a few; and that, however large it may be, they must be limited to a certain number, in order to guard against the confusion of a multitude. Hence, the number of representatives in the two cases not being in proportion to that of the two constituents, and being proportionally greater in the small republic, it follows that, if the proportion of fit characters be not less in the large than in the small republic, the former will present a greater option, and consequently a greater probability of a fit choice. In the next place, as each representative will be chosen by a greater number of citizens in the large than in the small republic, it will be more difficult for unworthy candidates to practice with success the vicious arts by which elections are too often carried; and the suffrages of the people being more free, will be more likely to centre in men who possess the most attractive merit and the most diffusive and established characters. It must be confessed that in this, as in most other cases, there is a mean, on both sides of which inconveniences will be found to lie. By enlarging too much the number of electors, you render the representatives too little acquainted with all their local circumstances and lesser interests; as by reducing it too much, you render him unduly attached to these, and too little fit to comprehend and pursue great and national objects. The federal Constitution forms a happy combination in this respect; the great and aggregate interests being referred to the national, the local and particular to the State legislatures. The other point of difference is, the greater number of citizens and extent of territory which may be brought within the compass of republican than of democratic government; and it is this circumstance principally which renders factious combinations less to be dreaded in the former than in the latter. The smaller the society, the fewer probably will be the distinct parties and interests composing it; the fewer the distinct parties and interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of the same party; and the smaller the number of individuals composing a majority, and the smaller the compass within which they are placed, the more easily will they concert and execute their plans of oppression. Extend the sphere, and you take in a greater variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motive exists, it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength, and to act in unison with each other. Besides other impediments, it may be remarked that, where there is a consciousness of unjust or dishonorable purposes, communication is always checked by distrust in proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary. Hence, it clearly appears, that the same advantage which a republic has over a democracy, in controlling the effects of faction, is enjoyed by a large over a small republic,is enjoyed by the Union over the States composing it. Does the advantage consist in the substitution of representatives whose enlightened views and virtuous sentiments render them superior to local prejudices and schemes of injustice? It will not be denied that the representation of the Union will be most likely to possess these requisite endowments. Does it consist in the greater security afforded by a greater variety of parties, against the event of any one party being able to outnumber and oppress the rest? In an equal degree does the increased variety of parties comprised within the Union, increase this security. Does it, in fine, consist in the greater obstacles opposed to the concert and accomplishment of the secret wishes of an unjust and interested majority? Here, again, the extent of the Union gives it the most palpable advantage. The influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within their particular States, but will be unable to spread a general conflagration through the other States. A religious sect may degenerate into a political faction in a part of the Confederacy; but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it must secure the national councils against any danger from that source. A rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the Union than a particular member of it; in the same proportion as such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or district, than an entire State. In the extent and proper structure of the Union, therefore, we behold a republican remedy for the diseases most incident to republican government. And according to the degree of pleasure and pride we feel in being republicans, ought to be our zeal in cherishing the spirit and supporting the character of Federalists. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XI. The Utility of the Union in Respect to Commercial Relations and a Navy For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The importance of the Union, in a commercial light, is one of those points about which there is least room to entertain a difference of opinion, and which has, in fact, commanded the most general assent of men who have any acquaintance with the subject. This applies as well to our intercourse with foreign countries as with each other. There are appearances to authorize a supposition that the adventurous spirit, which distinguishes the commercial character of America, has already excited uneasy sensations in several of the maritime powers of Europe. They seem to be apprehensive of our too great interference in that carrying trade, which is the support of their navigation and the foundation of their naval strength. Those of them which have colonies in America look forward to what this country is capable of becoming, with painful solicitude. They foresee the dangers that may threaten their American dominions from the neighborhood of States, which have all the dispositions, and would possess all the means, requisite to the creation of a powerful marine. Impressions of this kind will naturally indicate the policy of fostering divisions among us, and of depriving us, as far as possible, of an ACTIVE COMMERCE in our own bottoms. This would answer the threefold purpose of preventing our interference in their navigation, of monopolizing the profits of our trade, and of clipping the wings by which we might soar to a dangerous greatness. Did not prudence forbid the detail, it would not be difficult to trace, by facts, the workings of this policy to the cabinets of ministers. If we continue united, we may counteract a policy so unfriendly to our prosperity in a variety of ways. By prohibitory regulations, extending, at the same time, throughout the States, we may oblige foreign countries to bid against each other, for the privileges of our markets. This assertion will not appear chimerical to those who are able to appreciate the importance of the markets of three millions of peopleincreasing in rapid progression, for the most part exclusively addicted to agriculture, and likely from local circumstances to remain soto any manufacturing nation; and the immense difference there would be to the trade and navigation of such a nation, between a direct communication in its own ships, and an indirect conveyance of its products and returns, to and from America, in the ships of another country. Suppose, for instance, we had a government in America, capable of excluding Great Britain (with whom we have at present no treaty of commerce) from all our ports; what would be the probable operation of this step upon her politics? Would it not enable us to negotiate, with the fairest prospect of success, for commercial privileges of the most valuable and extensive kind, in the dominions of that kingdom? When these questions have been asked, upon other occasions, they have received a plausible, but not a solid or satisfactory answer. It has been said that prohibitions on our part would produce no change in the system of Britain, because she could prosecute her trade with us through the medium of the Dutch, who would be her immediate customers and paymasters for those articles which were wanted for the supply of our markets. But would not her navigation be materially injured by the loss of the important advantage of being her own carrier in that trade? Would not the principal part of its profits be intercepted by the Dutch, as a compensation for their agency and risk? Would not the mere circumstance of freight occasion a considerable deduction? Would not so circuitous an intercourse facilitate the competitions of other nations, by enhancing the price of British commodities in our markets, and by transferring to other hands the management of this interesting branch of the British commerce? A mature consideration of the objects suggested by these questions will justify a belief that the real disadvantages to Britain from such a state of things, conspiring with the prepossessions of a great part of the nation in favor of the American trade, and with the importunities of the West India islands, would produce a relaxation in her present system, and would let us into the enjoyment of privileges in the markets of those islands elsewhere, from which our trade would derive the most substantial benefits. Such a point gained from the British government, and which could not be expected without an equivalent in exemptions and immunities in our markets, would be likely to have a correspondent effect on the conduct of other nations, who would not be inclined to see themselves altogether supplanted in our trade. A further resource for influencing the conduct of European nations toward us, in this respect, would arise from the establishment of a federal navy. There can be no doubt that the continuance of the Union under an efficient government would put it in our power, at a period not very distant, to create a navy which, if it could not vie with those of the great maritime powers, would at least be of respectable weight if thrown into the scale of either of two contending parties. This would be more peculiarly the case in relation to operations in the West Indies. A few ships of the line, sent opportunely to the reinforcement of either side, would often be sufficient to decide the fate of a campaign, on the event of which interests of the greatest magnitude were suspended. Our position is, in this respect, a most commanding one. And if to this consideration we add that of the usefulness of supplies from this country, in the prosecution of military operations in the West Indies, it will readily be perceived that a situation so favorable would enable us to bargain with great advantage for commercial privileges. A price would be set not only upon our friendship, but upon our neutrality. By a steady adherence to the Union we may hope, erelong, to become the arbiter of Europe in America, and to be able to incline the balance of European competitions in this part of the world as our interest may dictate. But in the reverse of this eligible situation, we shall discover that the rivalships of the parts would make them checks upon each other, and would frustrate all the tempting advantages which nature has kindly placed within our reach. In a state so insignificant our commerce would be a prey to the wanton intermeddlings of all nations at war with each other; who, having nothing to fear from us, would with little scruple or remorse, supply their wants by depredations on our property as often as it fell in their way. The rights of neutrality will only be respected when they are defended by an adequate power. A nation, despicable by its weakness, forfeits even the privilege of being neutral. Under a vigorous national government, the natural strength and resources of the country, directed to a common interest, would baffle all the combinations of European jealousy to restrain our growth. This situation would even take away the motive to such combinations, by inducing an impracticability of success. An active commerce, an extensive navigation, and a flourishing marine would then be the offspring of moral and physical necessity. We might defy the little arts of the little politicians to control or vary the irresistible and unchangeable course of nature. But in a state of disunion, these combinations might exist and might operate with success. It would be in the power of the maritime nations, availing themselves of our universal impotence, to prescribe the conditions of our political existence; and as they have a common interest in being our carriers, and still more in preventing our becoming theirs, they would in all probability combine to embarrass our navigation in such a manner as would in effect destroy it, and confine us to a PASSIVE COMMERCE. We should then be compelled to content ourselves with the first price of our commodities, and to see the profits of our trade snatched from us to enrich our enemies and persecutors. That unequaled spirit of enterprise, which signalizes the genius of the American merchants and navigators, and which is in itself an inexhaustible mine of national wealth, would be stifled and lost, and poverty and disgrace would overspread a country which, with wisdom, might make herself the admiration and envy of the world. There are rights of great moment to the trade of America which are rights of the UnionI allude to the fisheries, to the navigation of the Western lakes, and to that of the Mississippi. The dissolution of the Confederacy would give room for delicate questions concerning the future existence of these rights; which the interest of more powerful partners would hardly fail to solve to our disadvantage. The disposition of Spain with regard to the Mississippi needs no comment. France and Britain are concerned with us in the fisheries, and view them as of the utmost moment to their navigation. They, of course, would hardly remain long indifferent to that decided mastery, of which experience has shown us to be possessed in this valuable branch of traffic, and by which we are able to undersell those nations in their own markets. What more natural than that they should be disposed to exclude from the lists such dangerous competitors? This branch of trade ought not to be considered as a partial benefit. All the navigating States may, in different degrees, advantageously participate in it, and under circumstances of a greater extension of mercantile capital, would not be unlikely to do it. As a nursery of seamen, it now is, or when time shall have more nearly assimilated the principles of navigation in the several States, will become, a universal resource. To the establishment of a navy, it must be indispensable. To this great national object, a NAVY, union will contribute in various ways. Every institution will grow and flourish in proportion to the quantity and extent of the means concentred towards its formation and support. A navy of the United States, as it would embrace the resources of all, is an object far less remote than a navy of any single State or partial confederacy, which would only embrace the resources of a single part. It happens, indeed, that different portions of confederated America possess each some peculiar advantage for this essential establishment. The more southern States furnish in greater abundance certain kinds of naval storestar, pitch, and turpentine. Their wood for the construction of ships is also of a more solid and lasting texture. The difference in the duration of the ships of which the navy might be composed, if chiefly constructed of Southern wood, would be of signal importance, either in the view of naval strength or of national economy. Some of the Southern and of the Middle States yield a greater plenty of iron, and of better quality. Seamen must chiefly be drawn from the Northern hive. The necessity of naval protection to external or maritime commerce does not require a particular elucidation, no more than the conduciveness of that species of commerce to the prosperity of a navy. An unrestrained intercourse between the States themselves will advance the trade of each by an interchange of their respective productions, not only for the supply of reciprocal wants at home, but for exportation to foreign markets. The veins of commerce in every part will be replenished, and will acquire additional motion and vigor from a free circulation of the commodities of every part. Commercial enterprise will have much greater scope, from the diversity in the productions of different States. When the staple of one fails from a bad harvest or unproductive crop, it can call to its aid the staple of another. The variety, not less than the value, of products for exportation contributes to the activity of foreign commerce. It can be conducted upon much better terms with a large number of materials of a given value than with a small number of materials of the same value; arising from the competitions of trade and from the fluctations of markets. Particular articles may be in great demand at certain periods, and unsalable at others; but if there be a variety of articles, it can scarcely happen that they should all be at one time in the latter predicament, and on this account the operations of the merchant would be less liable to any considerable obstruction or stagnation. The speculative trader will at once perceive the force of these observations, and will acknowledge that the aggregate balance of the commerce of the United States would bid fair to be much more favorable than that of the thirteen States without union or with partial unions. It may perhaps be replied to this, that whether the States are united or disunited, there would still be an intimate intercourse between them which would answer the same ends; this intercourse would be fettered, interrupted, and narrowed by a multiplicity of causes, which in the course of these papers have been amply detailed. A unity of commercial, as well as political, interests, can only result from a unity of government. There are other points of view in which this subject might be placed, of a striking and animating kind. But they would lead us too far into the regions of futurity, and would involve topics not proper for a newspaper discussion. I shall briefly observe, that our situation invites and our interests prompt us to aim at an ascendant in the system of American affairs. The world may politically, as well as geographically, be divided into four parts, each having a distinct set of interests. Unhappily for the other three, Europe, by her arms and by her negotiations, by force and by fraud, has, in different degrees, extended her dominion over them all. Africa, Asia, and America, have successively felt her domination. The superiority she has long maintained has tempted her to plume herself as the Mistress of the World, and to consider the rest of mankind as created for her benefit. Men admired as profound philosophers have, in direct terms, attributed to her inhabitants a physical superiority, and have gravely asserted that all animals, and with them the human species, degenerate in Americathat even dogs cease to bark after having breathed awhile in our atmosphere.1 Facts have too long supported these arrogant pretensions of the Europeans. It belongs to us to vindicate the honor of the human race, and to teach that assuming brother, moderation. Union will enable us to do it. Disunion will will add another victim to his triumphs. Let Americans disdain to be the instruments of European greatness! Let the thirteen States, bound together in a strict and indissoluble Union, concur in erecting one great American system, superior to the control of all transatlantic force or influence, and able to dictate the terms of the connection between the old and the new world! PUBLIUS. 1 Recherches philosophiques sur les Amricains. THE FEDERALIST. No. XII. The Utility of the Union In Respect to Revenue From the New York Packet. Tuesday, November 27, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The effects of Union upon the commercial prosperity of the States have been sufficiently delineated. Its tendency to promote the interests of revenue will be the subject of our present inquiry. The prosperity of commerce is now perceived and acknowledged by all enlightened statesmen to be the most useful as well as the most productive source of national wealth, and has accordingly become a primary object of their political cares. By multiplying the means of gratification, by promoting the introduction and circulation of the precious metals, those darling objects of human avarice and enterprise, it serves to vivify and invigorate the channels of industry, and to make them flow with greater activity and copiousness. The assiduous merchant, the laborious husbandman, the active mechanic, and the industrious manufacturer,all orders of men, look forward with eager expectation and growing alacrity to this pleasing reward of their toils. The oftenagitated question between agriculture and commerce has, from indubitable experience, received a decision which has silenced the rivalship that once subsisted between them, and has proved, to the satisfaction of their friends, that their interests are intimately blended and interwoven. It has been found in various countries that, in proportion as commerce has flourished, land has risen in value. And how could it have happened otherwise? Could that which procures a freer vent for the products of the earth, which furnishes new incitements to the cultivation of land, which is the most powerful instrument in increasing the quantity of money in a statecould that, in fine, which is the faithful handmaid of labor and industry, in every shape, fail to augment that article, which is the prolific parent of far the greatest part of the objects upon which they are exerted? It is astonishing that so simple a truth should ever have had an adversary; and it is one, among a multitude of proofs, how apt a spirit of illinformed jealousy, or of too great abstraction and refinement, is to lead men astray from the plainest truths of reason and conviction. The ability of a country to pay taxes must always be proportioned, in a great degree, to the quantity of money in circulation, and to the celerity with which it circulates. Commerce, contributing to both these objects, must of necessity render the payment of taxes easier, and facilitate the requisite supplies to the treasury. The hereditary dominions of the Emperor of Germany contain a great extent of fertile, cultivated, and populous territory, a large proportion of which is situated in mild and luxuriant climates. In some parts of this territory are to be found the best gold and silver mines in Europe. And yet, from the want of the fostering influence of commerce, that monarch can boast but slender revenues. He has several times been compelled to owe obligations to the pecuniary succors of other nations for the preservation of his essential interests, and is unable, upon the strength of his own resources, to sustain a long or continued war. But it is not in this aspect of the subject alone that Union will be seen to conduce to the purpose of revenue. There are other points of view, in which its influence will appear more immediate and decisive. It is evident from the state of the country, from the habits of the people, from the experience we have had on the point itself, that it is impracticable to raise any very considerable sums by direct taxation. Tax laws have in vain been multiplied; new methods to enforce the collection have in vain been tried; the public expectation has been uniformly disappointed, and the treasuries of the States have remained empty. The popular system of administration inherent in the nature of popular government, coinciding with the real scarcity of money incident to a languid and mutilated state of trade, has hitherto defeated every experiment for extensive collections, and has at length taught the different legislatures the folly of attempting them. No person acquainted with what happens in other countries will be surprised at this circumstance. In so opulent a nation as that of Britain, where direct taxes from superior wealth must be much more tolerable, and, from the vigor of the government, much more practicable, than in America, far the greatest part of the national revenue is derived from taxes of the indirect kind, from imposts, and from excises. Duties on imported articles form a large branch of this latter description. In America, it is evident that we must a long time depend for the means of revenue chiefly on such duties. In most parts of it, excises must be confined within a narrow compass. The genius of the people will ill brook the inquisitive and peremptory spirit of excise laws. The pockets of the farmers, on the other hand, will reluctantly yield but scanty supplies, in the unwelcome shape of impositions on their houses and lands; and personal property is too precarious and invisible a fund to be laid hold of in any other way than by the inperceptible agency of taxes on consumption. If these remarks have any foundation, that state of things which will best enable us to improve and extend so valuable a resource must be best adapted to our political welfare. And it cannot admit of a serious doubt, that this state of things must rest on the basis of a general Union. As far as this would be conducive to the interests of commerce, so far it must tend to the extension of the revenue to be drawn from that source. As far as it would contribute to rendering regulations for the collection of the duties more simple and efficacious, so far it must serve to answer the purposes of making the same rate of duties more productive, and of putting it into the power of the government to increase the rate without prejudice to trade. The relative situation of these States; the number of rivers with which they are intersected, and of bays that wash there shores; the facility of communication in every direction; the affinity of language and manners; the familiar habits of intercourse; all these are circumstances that would conspire to render an illicit trade between them a matter of little difficulty, and would insure frequent evasions of the commercial regulations of each other. The separate States or confederacies would be necessitated by mutual jealousy to avoid the temptations to that kind of trade by the lowness of their duties. The temper of our governments, for a long time to come, would not permit those rigorous precautions by which the European nations guard the avenues into their respective countries, as well by land as by water; and which, even there, are found insufficient obstacles to the adventurous stratagems of avarice. In France, there is an army of patrols (as they are called) constantly employed to secure their fiscal regulations against the inroads of the dealers in contraband trade. Mr. Neckar computes the number of these patrols at upwards of twenty thousand. This shows the immense difficulty in preventing that species of traffic, where there is an inland communication, and places in a strong light the disadvantages with which the collection of duties in this country would be encumbered, if by disunion the States should be placed in a situation, with respect to each other, resembling that of France with respect to her neighbors. The arbitrary and vexatious powers with which the patrols are necessarily armed, would be intolerable in a free country. If, on the contrary, there be but one government pervading all the States, there will be, as to the principal part of our commerce, but ONE SIDE to guardthe ATLANTIC COAST. Vessels arriving directly from foreign countries, laden with valuable cargoes, would rarely choose to hazard themselves to the complicated and critical perils which would attend attempts to unlade prior to their coming into port. They would have to dread both the dangers of the coast, and of detection, as well after as before their arrival at the places of their final destination. An ordinary degree of vigilance would be competent to the prevention of any material infractions upon the rights of the revenue. A few armed vessels, judiciously stationed at the entrances of our ports, might at a small expense be made useful sentinels of the laws. And the government having the same interest to provide against violations everywhere, the cooperation of its measures in each State would have a powerful tendency to render them effectual. Here also we should preserve by Union, an advantage which nature holds out to us, and which would be relinquished by separation. The United States lie at a great distance from Europe, and at a considerable distance from all other places with which they would have extensive connections of foreign trade. The passage from them to us, in a few hours, or in a single night, as between the coasts of France and Britain, and of other neighboring nations, would be impracticable. This is a prodigious security against a direct contraband with foreign countries; but a circuitous contraband to one State, through the medium of another, would be both easy and safe. The difference between a direct importation from abroad, and an indirect importation through the channel of a neighboring State, in small parcels, according to time and opportunity, with the additional facilities of inland communication, must be palpable to every man of discernment. It is therefore evident, that one national government would be able, at much less expense, to extend the duties on imports, beyond comparison, further than would be practicable to the States separately, or to any partial confederacies. Hitherto, I believe, it may safely be asserted, that these duties have not upon an average exceeded in any State three per cent. In France they are estimated to be about fifteen per cent., and in Britain they exceed this proportion.1 There seems to be nothing to hinder their being increased in this country to at least treble their present amount. The single article of ardent spirits, under federal regulation, might be made to furnish a considerable revenue. Upon a ratio to the importation into this State, the whole quantity imported into the United States may be estimated at four millions of gallons; which, at a shilling per gallon, would produce two hundred thousand pounds. That article would well bear this rate of duty; and if it should tend to diminish the consumption of it, such an effect would be equally favorable to the agriculture, to the economy, to the morals, and to the health of the society. There is, perhaps, nothing so much a subject of national extravagance as these spirits. What will be the consequence, if we are not able to avail ourselves of the resource in question in its full extent? A nation cannot long exist without revenues. Destitute of this essential support, it must resign its independence, and sink into the degraded condition of a province. This is an extremity to which no government will of choice accede. Revenue, therefore, must be had at all events. In this country, if the principal part be not drawn from commerce, it must fall with oppressive weight upon land. It has been already intimated that excises, in their true signification, are too little in unison with the feelings of the people, to admit of great use being made of that mode of taxation; nor, indeed, in the States where almost the sole employment is agriculture, are the objects proper for excise sufficiently numerous to permit very ample collections in that way. Personal estate (as has been before remarked), from the difficulty in tracing it, cannot be subjected to large contributions, by any other means than by taxes on consumption. In populous cities, it may be enough the subject of conjecture, to occasion the oppression of individuals, without much aggregate benefit to the State; but beyond these circles, it must, in a great measure, escape the eye and the hand of the taxgatherer. As the necessities of the State, nevertheless, must be satisfied in some mode or other, the defect of other resources must throw the principal weight of public burdens on the possessors of land. And as, on the other hand, the wants of the government can never obtain an adequate supply, unless all the sources of revenue are open to its demands, the finances of the community, under such embarrassments, cannot be put into a situation consistent with its respectability or its security. Thus we shall not even have the consolations of a full treasury, to atone for the oppression of that valuable class of the citizens who are employed in the cultivation of the soil. But public and private distress will keep pace with each other in gloomy concert; and unite in deploring the infatuation of those counsels which led to disunion. PUBLIUS. 1 If my memory be right they amount to twenty per cent. THE FEDERALIST. No. XIII. Advantage of the Union in Respect to Economy in Government For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: As connected with the subject of revenue, we may with propriety consider that of economy. The money saved from one object may be usefully applied to another, and there will be so much the less to be drawn from the pockets of the people. If the States are united under one government, there will be but one national civil list to support; if they are divided into several confederacies, there will be as many different national civil lists to be provided forand each of them, as to the principal departments, coextensive with that which would be necessary for a government of the whole. The entire separation of the States into thirteen unconnected sovereignties is a project too extravagant and too replete with danger to have many advocates. The ideas of men who speculate upon the dismemberment of the empire seem generally turned toward three confederaciesone consisting of the four Northern, another of the four Middle, and a third of the five Southern States. There is little probability that there would be a greater number. According to this distribution, each confederacy would comprise an extent of territory larger than that of the kingdom of Great Britain. No wellinformed man will suppose that the affairs of such a confederacy can be properly regulated by a government less comprehensive in its organs or institutions than that which has been proposed by the convention. When the dimensions of a State attain to a certain magnitude, it requires the same energy of government and the same forms of administration which are requisite in one of much greater extent. This idea admits not of precise demonstration, because there is no rule by which we can measure the momentum of civil power necessary to the government of any given number of individuals; but when we consider that the island of Britain, nearly commensurate with each of the supposed confederacies, contains about eight millions of people, and when we reflect upon the degree of authority required to direct the passions of so large a society to the public good, we shall see no reason to doubt that the like portion of power would be sufficient to perform the same task in a society far more numerous. Civil power, properly organized and exerted, is capable of diffusing its force to a very great extent; and can, in a manner, reproduce itself in every part of a great empire by a judicious arrangement of subordinate institutions. The supposition that each confederacy into which the States would be likely to be divided would require a government not less comprehensive than the one proposed, will be strengthened by another supposition, more probable than that which presents us with three confederacies as the alternative to a general Union. If we attend carefully to geographical and commercial considerations, in conjunction with the habits and prejudices of the different States, we shall be led to conclude that in case of disunion they will most naturally league themselves under two governments. The four Eastern States, from all the causes that form the links of national sympathy and connection, may with certainty be expected to unite. New York, situated as she is, would never be unwise enough to oppose a feeble and unsupported flank to the weight of that confederacy. There are other obvious reasons that would facilitate her accession to it. New Jersey is too small a State to think of being a frontier, in opposition to this still more powerful combination; nor do there appear to be any obstacles to her admission into it. Even Pennsylvania would have strong inducements to join the Northern league. An active foreign commerce, on the basis of her own navigation, is her true policy, and coincides with the opinions and dispositions of her citizens. The more Southern States, from various circumstances, may not think themselves much interested in the encouragement of navigation. They may prefer a system which would give unlimited scope to all nations to be the carriers as well as the purchasers of their commodities. Pennsylvania may not choose to confound her interests in a connection so adverse to her policy. As she must at all events be a frontier, she may deem it most consistent with her safety to have her exposed side turned towards the weaker power of the Southern, rather than towards the stronger power of the Northern, Confederacy. This would give her the fairest chance to avoid being the Flanders of America. Whatever may be the determination of Pennsylvania, if the Northern Confederacy includes New Jersey, there is no likelihood of more than one confederacy to the south of that State. Nothing can be more evident than that the thirteen States will be able to support a national government better than one half, or one third, or any number less than the whole. This reflection must have great weight in obviating that objection to the proposed plan, which is founded on the principle of expense; an objection, however, which, when we come to take a nearer view of it, will appear in every light to stand on mistaken ground. If, in addition to the consideration of a plurality of civil lists, we take into view the number of persons who must necessarily be employed to guard the inland communication between the different confederacies against illicit trade, and who in time will infallibly spring up out of the necessities of revenue; and if we also take into view the military establishments which it has been shown would unavoidably result from the jealousies and conflicts of the several nations into which the States would be divided, we shall clearly discover that a separation would be not less injurious to the economy, than to the tranquillity, commerce, revenue, and liberty of every part. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XIV. Objections to the Proposed Constitution From Extent of Territory Answered From the New York Packet. Friday, November 30, 1787. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: We have seen the necessity of the Union, as our bulwark against foreign danger, as the conservator of peace among ourselves, as the guardian of our commerce and other common interests, as the only substitute for those military establishments which have subverted the liberties of the Old World, and as the proper antidote for the diseases of faction, which have proved fatal to other popular governments, and of which alarming symptoms have been betrayed by our own. All that remains, within this branch of our inquiries, is to take notice of an objection that may be drawn from the great extent of country which the Union embraces. A few observations on this subject will be the more proper, as it is perceived that the adversaries of the new Constitution are availing themselves of the prevailing prejudice with regard to the practicable sphere of republican administration, in order to supply, by imaginary difficulties, the want of those solid objections which they endeavor in vain to find. The error which limits republican government to a narrow district has been unfolded and refuted in preceding papers. I remark here only that it seems to owe its rise and prevalence chiefly to the confounding of a republic with a democracy, applying to the former reasonings drawn from the nature of the latter. The true distinction between these forms was also adverted to on a former occasion. It is, that in a democracy, the people meet and exercise the government in person; in a republic, they assemble and administer it by their representatives and agents. A democracy, consequently, will be confined to a small spot. A republic may be extended over a large region. To this accidental source of the error may be added the artifice of some celebrated authors, whose writings have had a great share in forming the modern standard of political opinions. Being subjects either of an absolute or limited monarchy, they have endeavored to heighten the advantages, or palliate the evils of those forms, by placing in comparison the vices and defects of the republican, and by citing as specimens of the latter the turbulent democracies of ancient Greece and modern Italy. Under the confusion of names, it has been an easy task to transfer to a republic observations applicable to a democracy only; and among others, the observation that it can never be established but among a small number of people, living within a small compass of territory. Such a fallacy may have been the less perceived, as most of the popular governments of antiquity were of the democratic species; and even in modern Europe, to which we owe the great principle of representation, no example is seen of a government wholly popular, and founded, at the same time, wholly on that principle. If Europe has the merit of discovering this great mechanical power in government, by the simple agency of which the will of the largest political body may be concentred, and its force directed to any object which the public good requires, America can claim the merit of making the discovery the basis of unmixed and extensive republics. It is only to be lamented that any of her citizens should wish to deprive her of the additional merit of displaying its full efficacy in the establishment of the comprehensive system now under her consideration. As the natural limit of a democracy is that distance from the central point which will just permit the most remote citizens to assemble as often as their public functions demand, and will include no greater number than can join in those functions; so the natural limit of a republic is that distance from the centre which will barely allow the representatives to meet as often as may be necessary for the administration of public affairs. Can it be said that the limits of the United States exceed this distance? It will not be said by those who recollect that the Atlantic coast is the longest side of the Union, that during the term of thirteen years, the representatives of the States have been almost continually assembled, and that the members from the most distant States are not chargeable with greater intermissions of attendance than those from the States in the neighborhood of Congress. That we may form a juster estimate with regard to this interesting subject, let us resort to the actual dimensions of the Union. The limits, as fixed by the treaty of peace, are: on the east the Atlantic, on the south the latitude of thirtyone degrees, on the west the Mississippi, and on the north an irregular line running in some instances beyond the fortyfifth degree, in others falling as low as the fortysecond. The southern shore of Lake Erie lies below that latitude. Computing the distance between the thirtyfirst and fortyfifth degrees, it amounts to nine hundred and seventythree common miles; computing it from thirtyone to fortytwo degrees, to seven hundred and sixtyfour miles and a half. Taking the mean for the distance, the amount will be eight hundred and sixtyeight miles and threefourths. The mean distance from the Atlantic to the Mississippi does not probably exceed seven hundred and fifty miles. On a comparison of this extent with that of several countries in Europe, the practicability of rendering our system commensurate to it appears to be demonstrable. It is not a great deal larger than Germany, where a diet representing the whole empire is continually assembled; or than Poland before the late dismemberment, where another national diet was the depositary of the supreme power. Passing by France and Spain, we find that in Great Britain, inferior as it may be in size, the representatives of the northern extremity of the island have as far to travel to the national council as will be required of those of the most remote parts of the Union. Favorable as this view of the subject may be, some observations remain which will place it in a light still more satisfactory. In the first place it is to be remembered that the general government is not to be charged with the whole power of making and administering laws. Its jurisdiction is limited to certain enumerated objects, which concern all the members of the republic, but which are not to be attained by the separate provisions of any. The subordinate governments, which can extend their care to all those other subjects which can be separately provided for, will retain their due authority and activity. Were it proposed by the plan of the convention to abolish the governments of the particular States, its adversaries would have some ground for their objection; though it would not be difficult to show that if they were abolished the general government would be compelled, by the principle of selfpreservation, to reinstate them in their proper jurisdiction. A second observation to be made is that the immediate object of the federal Constitution is to secure the union of the thirteen primitive States, which we know to be practicable; and to add to them such other States as may arise in their own bosoms, or in their neighborhoods, which we cannot doubt to be equally practicable. The arrangements that may be necessary for those angles and fractions of our territory which lie on our northwestern frontier, must be left to those whom further discoveries and experience will render more equal to the task. Let it be remarked, in the third place, that the intercourse throughout the Union will be facilitated by new improvements. Roads will everywhere be shortened, and kept in better order; accommodations for travelers will be multiplied and meliorated; an interior navigation on our eastern side will be opened throughout, or nearly throughout, the whole extent of the thirteen States. The communication between the Western and Atlantic districts, and between different parts of each, will be rendered more and more easy by those numerous canals with which the beneficence of nature has intersected our country, and which art finds it so little difficult to connect and complete. A fourth and still more important consideration is, that as almost every State will, on one side or other, be a frontier, and will thus find, in regard to its safety, an inducement to make some sacrifices for the sake of the general protection; so the States which lie at the greatest distance from the heart of the Union, and which, of course, may partake least of the ordinary circulation of its benefits, will be at the same time immediately contiguous to foreign nations, and will consequently stand, on particular occasions, in greatest need of its strength and resources. It may be inconvenient for Georgia, or the States forming our western or northeastern borders, to send their representatives to the seat of government; but they would find it more so to struggle alone against an invading enemy, or even to support alone the whole expense of those precautions which may be dictated by the neighborhood of continual danger. If they should derive less benefit, therefore, from the Union in some respects than the less distant States, they will derive greater benefit from it in other respects, and thus the proper equilibrium will be maintained throughout. I submit to you, my fellowcitizens, these considerations, in full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your decisions will allow them their due weight and effect; and that you will never suffer difficulties, however formidable in appearance, or however fashionable the error on which they may be founded, to drive you into the gloomy and perilous scene into which the advocates for disunion would conduct you. Hearken not to the unnatural voice which tells you that the people of America, knit together as they are by so many cords of affection, can no longer live together as members of the same family; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; can no longer be fellowcitizens of one great, respectable, and flourishing empire. Hearken not to the voice which petulantly tells you that the form of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is impossible to accomplish. No, my countrymen, shut your ears against this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which it conveys; the kindred blood which flows in the veins of American citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in defense of their sacred rights, consecrate their Union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects, the most rash of all attempts, is that of rendering us in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties and promote our happiness. But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected, merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America, that, whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience? To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the possession, and the world for the example, of the numerous innovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of private rights and public happiness. Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the Revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at this moment have been numbered among the melancholy victims of misguided councils, must at best have been laboring under the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America, happily, we trust, for the whole human race, they pursued a new and more noble course. They accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in the annals of human society. They reared the fabrics of governments which have no model on the face of the globe. They formed the design of a great Confederacy, which it is incumbent on their successors to improve and perpetuate. If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them. If they erred most in the structure of the Union, this was the work most difficult to be executed; this is the work which has been new modelled by the act of your convention, and it is that act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XV. The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York. In the course of the preceding papers, I have endeavored, my fellowcitizens, to place before you, in a clear and convincing light, the importance of Union to your political safety and happiness. I have unfolded to you a complication of dangers to which you would be exposed, should you permit that sacred knot which binds the people of America together be severed or dissolved by ambition or by avarice, by jealousy or by misrepresentation. In the sequel of the inquiry through which I propose to accompany you, the truths intended to be inculcated will receive further confirmation from facts and arguments hitherto unnoticed. If the road over which you will still have to pass should in some places appear to you tedious or irksome, you will recollect that you are in quest of information on a subject the most momentous which can engage the attention of a free people, that the field through which you have to travel is in itself spacious, and that the difficulties of the journey have been unnecessarily increased by the mazes with which sophistry has beset the way. It will be my aim to remove the obstacles from your progress in as compendious a manner as it can be done, without sacrificing utility to despatch. In pursuance of the plan which I have laid down for the discussion of the subject, the point next in order to be examined is the insufficiency of the present Confederation to the preservation of the Union. It may perhaps be asked what need there is of reasoning or proof to illustrate a position which is not either controverted or doubted, to which the understandings and feelings of all classes of men assent, and which in substance is admitted by the opponents as well as by the friends of the new Constitution. It must in truth be acknowledged that, however these may differ in other respects, they in general appear to harmonize in this sentiment, at least, that there are material imperfections in our national system, and that something is necessary to be done to rescue us from impending anarchy. The facts that support this opinion are no longer objects of speculation. They have forced themselves upon the sensibility of the people at large, and have at length extorted from those, whose mistaken policy has had the principal share in precipitating the extremity at which we are arrived, a reluctant confession of the reality of those defects in the scheme of our federal government, which have been long pointed out and regretted by the intelligent friends of the Union. We may indeed with propriety be said to have reached almost the last stage of national humiliation. There is scarcely anything that can wound the pride or degrade the character of an independent nation which we do not experience. Are there engagements to the performance of which we are held by every tie respectable among men? These are the subjects of constant and unblushing violation. Do we owe debts to foreigners and to our own citizens contracted in a time of imminent peril for the preservation of our political existence? These remain without any proper or satisfactory provision for their discharge. Have we valuable territories and important posts in the possession of a foreign power which, by express stipulations, ought long since to have been surrendered? These are still retained, to the prejudice of our interests, not less than of our rights. Are we in a condition to resent or to repel the aggression? We have neither troops, nor treasury, nor government.1 Are we even in a condition to remonstrate with dignity? The just imputations on our own faith, in respect to the same treaty, ought first to be removed. Are we entitled by nature and compact to a free participation in the navigation of the Mississippi? Spain excludes us from it. Is public credit an indispensable resource in time of public danger? We seem to have abandoned its cause as desperate and irretrievable. Is commerce of importance to national wealth? Ours is at the lowest point of declension. Is respectability in the eyes of foreign powers a safeguard against foreign encroachments? The imbecility of our government even forbids them to treat with us. Our ambassadors abroad are the mere pageants of mimic sovereignty. Is a violent and unnatural decrease in the value of land a symptom of national distress? The price of improved land in most parts of the country is much lower than can be accounted for by the quantity of waste land at market, and can only be fully explained by that want of private and public confidence, which are so alarmingly prevalent among all ranks, and which have a direct tendency to depreciate property of every kind. Is private credit the friend and patron of industry? That most useful kind which relates to borrowing and lending is reduced within the narrowest limits, and this still more from an opinion of insecurity than from the scarcity of money. To shorten an enumeration of particulars which can afford neither pleasure nor instruction, it may in general be demanded, what indication is there of national disorder, poverty, and insignificance that could befall a community so peculiarly blessed with natural advantages as we are, which does not form a part of the dark catalogue of our public misfortunes? This is the melancholy situation to which we have been brought by those very maxims and councils which would now deter us from adopting the proposed Constitution; and which, not content with having conducted us to the brink of a precipice, seem resolved to plunge us into the abyss that awaits us below. Here, my countrymen, impelled by every motive that ought to influence an enlightened people, let us make a firm stand for our safety, our tranquillity, our dignity, our reputation. Let us at last break the fatal charm which has too long seduced us from the paths of felicity and prosperity. It is true, as has been before observed that facts, too stubborn to be resisted, have produced a species of general assent to the abstract proposition that there exist material defects in our national system; but the usefulness of the concession, on the part of the old adversaries of federal measures, is destroyed by a strenuous opposition to a remedy, upon the only principles that can give it a chance of success. While they admit that the government of the United States is destitute of energy, they contend against conferring upon it those powers which are requisite to supply that energy. They seem still to aim at things repugnant and irreconcilable; at an augmentation of federal authority, without a diminution of State authority; at sovereignty in the Union, and complete independence in the members. They still, in fine, seem to cherish with blind devotion the political monster of an imperium in imperio. This renders a full display of the principal defects of the Confederation necessary, in order to show that the evils we experience do not proceed from minute or partial imperfections, but from fundamental errors in the structure of the building, which cannot be amended otherwise than by an alteration in the first principles and main pillars of the fabric. The great and radical vice in the construction of the existing Confederation is in the principle of LEGISLATION for STATES or GOVERNMENTS, in their CORPORATE or COLLECTIVE CAPACITIES, and as contradistinguished from the INDIVIDUALS of which they consist. Though this principle does not run through all the powers delegated to the Union, yet it pervades and governs those on which the efficacy of the rest depends. Except as to the rule of appointment, the United States has an indefinite discretion to make requisitions for men and money; but they have no authority to raise either, by regulations extending to the individual citizens of America. The consequence of this is, that though in theory their resolutions concerning those objects are laws, constitutionally binding on the members of the Union, yet in practice they are mere recommendations which the States observe or disregard at their option. It is a singular instance of the capriciousness of the human mind, that after all the admonitions we have had from experience on this head, there should still be found men who object to the new Constitution, for deviating from a principle which has been found the bane of the old, and which is in itself evidently incompatible with the idea of GOVERNMENT; a principle, in short, which, if it is to be executed at all, must substitute the violent and sanguinary agency of the sword to the mild influence of the magistracy. There is nothing absurd or impracticable in the idea of a league or alliance between independent nations for certain defined purposes precisely stated in a treaty regulating all the details of time, place, circumstance, and quantity; leaving nothing to future discretion; and depending for its execution on the good faith of the parties. Compacts of this kind exist among all civilized nations, subject to the usual vicissitudes of peace and war, of observance and nonobservance, as the interests or passions of the contracting powers dictate. In the early part of the present century there was an epidemical rage in Europe for this species of compacts, from which the politicians of the times fondly hoped for benefits which were never realized. With a view to establishing the equilibrium of power and the peace of that part of the world, all the resources of negotiation were exhausted, and triple and quadruple alliances were formed; but they were scarcely formed before they were broken, giving an instructive but afflicting lesson to mankind, how little dependence is to be placed on treaties which have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of any immediate interest or passion. If the particular States in this country are disposed to stand in a similar relation to each other, and to drop the project of a general DISCRETIONARY SUPERINTENDENCE, the scheme would indeed be pernicious, and would entail upon us all the mischiefs which have been enumerated under the first head; but it would have the merit of being, at least, consistent and practicable Abandoning all views towards a confederate government, this would bring us to a simple alliance offensive and defensive; and would place us in a situation to be alternate friends and enemies of each other, as our mutual jealousies and rivalships, nourished by the intrigues of foreign nations, should prescribe to us. But if we are unwilling to be placed in this perilous situation; if we still will adhere to the design of a national government, or, which is the same thing, of a superintending power, under the direction of a common council, we must resolve to incorporate into our plan those ingredients which may be considered as forming the characteristic difference between a league and a government; we must extend the authority of the Union to the persons of the citizens, the only proper objects of government. Government implies the power of making laws. It is essential to the idea of a law, that it be attended with a sanction; or, in other words, a penalty or punishment for disobedience. If there be no penalty annexed to disobedience, the resolutions or commands which pretend to be laws will, in fact, amount to nothing more than advice or recommendation. This penalty, whatever it may be, can only be inflicted in two ways: by the agency of the courts and ministers of justice, or by military force; by the COERCION of the magistracy, or by the COERCION of arms. The first kind can evidently apply only to men; the last kind must of necessity, be employed against bodies politic, or communities, or States. It is evident that there is no process of a court by which the observance of the laws can, in the last resort, be enforced. Sentences may be denounced against them for violations of their duty; but these sentences can only be carried into execution by the sword. In an association where the general authority is confined to the collective bodies of the communities, that compose it, every breach of the laws must involve a state of war; and military execution must become the only instrument of civil obedience. Such a state of things can certainly not deserve the name of government, nor would any prudent man choose to commit his happiness to it. There was a time when we were told that breaches, by the States, of the regulations of the federal authority were not to be expected; that a sense of common interest would preside over the conduct of the respective members, and would beget a full compliance with all the constitutional requisitions of the Union. This language, at the present day, would appear as wild as a great part of what we now hear from the same quarter will be thought, when we shall have received further lessons from that best oracle of wisdom, experience. It at all times betrayed an ignorance of the true springs by which human conduct is actuated, and belied the original inducements to the establishment of civil power. Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint. Has it been found that bodies of men act with more rectitude or greater disinterestedness than individuals? The contrary of this has been inferred by all accurate observers of the conduct of mankind; and the inference is founded upon obvious reasons. Regard to reputation has a less active influence, when the infamy of a bad action is to be divided among a number than when it is to fall singly upon one. A spirit of faction, which is apt to mingle its poison in the deliberations of all bodies of men, will often hurry the persons of whom they are composed into improprieties and excesses, for which they would blush in a private capacity. In addition to all this, there is, in the nature of sovereign power, an impatience of control, that disposes those who are invested with the exercise of it, to look with an evil eye upon all external attempts to restrain or direct its operations. From this spirit it happens, that in every political association which is formed upon the principle of uniting in a common interest a number of lesser sovereignties, there will be found a kind of eccentric tendency in the subordinate or inferior orbs, by the operation of which there will be a perpetual effort in each to fly off from the common centre. This tendency is not difficult to be accounted for. It has its origin in the love of power. Power controlled or abridged is almost always the rival and enemy of that power by which it is controlled or abridged. This simple proposition will teach us how little reason there is to expect, that the persons intrusted with the administration of the affairs of the particular members of a confederacy will at all times be ready, with perfect goodhumor, and an unbiased regard to the public weal, to execute the resolutions or decrees of the general authority. The reverse of this results from the constitution of human nature. If, therefore, the measures of the Confederacy cannot be executed without the intervention of the particular administrations, there will be little prospect of their being executed at all. The rulers of the respective members, whether they have a constitutional right to do it or not, will undertake to judge of the propriety of the measures themselves. They will consider the conformity of the thing proposed or required to their immediate interests or aims; the momentary conveniences or inconveniences that would attend its adoption. All this will be done; and in a spirit of interested and suspicious scrutiny, without that knowledge of national circumstances and reasons of state, which is essential to a right judgment, and with that strong predilection in favor of local objects, which can hardly fail to mislead the decision. The same process must be repeated in every member of which the body is constituted; and the execution of the plans, framed by the councils of the whole, will always fluctuate on the discretion of the illinformed and prejudiced opinion of every part. Those who have been conversant in the proceedings of popular assemblies; who have seen how difficult it often is, where there is no exterior pressure of circumstances, to bring them to harmonious resolutions on important points, will readily conceive how impossible it must be to induce a number of such assemblies, deliberating at a distance from each other, at different times, and under different impressions, long to cooperate in the same views and pursuits. In our case, the concurrence of thirteen distinct sovereign wills is requisite, under the Confederation, to the complete execution of every important measure that proceeds from the Union. It has happened as was to have been foreseen. The measures of the Union have not been executed; the delinquencies of the States have, step by step, matured themselves to an extreme, which has, at length, arrested all the wheels of the national government, and brought them to an awful stand. Congress at this time scarcely possess the means of keeping up the forms of administration, till the States can have time to agree upon a more substantial substitute for the present shadow of a federal government. Things did not come to this desperate extremity at once. The causes which have been specified produced at first only unequal and disproportionate degrees of compliance with the requisitions of the Union. The greater deficiencies of some States furnished the pretext of example and the temptation of interest to the complying, or to the least delinquent States. Why should we do more in proportion than those who are embarked with us in the same political voyage? Why should we consent to bear more than our proper share of the common burden? These were suggestions which human selfishness could not withstand, and which even speculative men, who looked forward to remote consequences, could not, without hesitation, combat. Each State, yielding to the persuasive voice of immediate interest or convenience, has successively withdrawn its support, till the frail and tottering edifice seems ready to fall upon our heads, and to crush us beneath its ruins. PUBLIUS. 1 I mean for the Union. THE FEDERALIST. No. XVI. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 4, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The tendency of the principle of legislation for States, or communities, in their political capacities, as it has been exemplified by the experiment we have made of it, is equally attested by the events which have befallen all other governments of the confederate kind, of which we have any account, in exact proportion to its prevalence in those systems. The confirmations of this fact will be worthy of a distinct and particular examination. I shall content myself with barely observing here, that of all the confederacies of antiquity, which history has handed down to us, the Lycian and Achaean leagues, as far as there remain vestiges of them, appear to have been most free from the fetters of that mistaken principle, and were accordingly those which have best deserved, and have most liberally received, the applauding suffrages of political writers. This exceptionable principle may, as truly as emphatically, be styled the parent of anarchy: It has been seen that delinquencies in the members of the Union are its natural and necessary offspring; and that whenever they happen, the only constitutional remedy is force, and the immediate effect of the use of it, civil war. It remains to inquire how far so odious an engine of government, in its application to us, would even be capable of answering its end. If there should not be a large army constantly at the disposal of the national government it would either not be able to employ force at all, or, when this could be done, it would amount to a war between parts of the Confederacy concerning the infractions of a league, in which the strongest combination would be most likely to prevail, whether it consisted of those who supported or of those who resisted the general authority. It would rarely happen that the delinquency to be redressed would be confined to a single member, and if there were more than one who had neglected their duty, similarity of situation would induce them to unite for common defense. Independent of this motive of sympathy, if a large and influential State should happen to be the aggressing member, it would commonly have weight enough with its neighbors to win over some of them as associates to its cause. Specious arguments of danger to the common liberty could easily be contrived; plausible excuses for the deficiencies of the party could, without difficulty, be invented to alarm the apprehensions, inflame the passions, and conciliate the goodwill, even of those States which were not chargeable with any violation or omission of duty. This would be the more likely to take place, as the delinquencies of the larger members might be expected sometimes to proceed from an ambitious premeditation in their rulers, with a view to getting rid of all external control upon their designs of personal aggrandizement; the better to effect which it is presumable they would tamper beforehand with leading individuals in the adjacent States. If associates could not be found at home, recourse would be had to the aid of foreign powers, who would seldom be disinclined to encouraging the dissensions of a Confederacy, from the firm union of which they had so much to fear. When the sword is once drawn, the passions of men observe no bounds of moderation. The suggestions of wounded pride, the instigations of irritated resentment, would be apt to carry the States against which the arms of the Union were exerted, to any extremes necessary to avenge the affront or to avoid the disgrace of submission. The first war of this kind would probably terminate in a dissolution of the Union. This may be considered as the violent death of the Confederacy. Its more natural death is what we now seem to be on the point of experiencing, if the federal system be not speedily renovated in a more substantial form. It is not probable, considering the genius of this country, that the complying States would often be inclined to support the authority of the Union by engaging in a war against the noncomplying States. They would always be more ready to pursue the milder course of putting themselves upon an equal footing with the delinquent members by an imitation of their example. And the guilt of all would thus become the security of all. Our past experience has exhibited the operation of this spirit in its full light. There would, in fact, be an insuperable difficulty in ascertaining when force could with propriety be employed. In the article of pecuniary contribution, which would be the most usual source of delinquency, it would often be impossible to decide whether it had proceeded from disinclination or inability. The pretense of the latter would always be at hand. And the case must be very flagrant in which its fallacy could be detected with sufficient certainty to justify the harsh expedient of compulsion. It is easy to see that this problem alone, as often as it should occur, would open a wide field for the exercise of factious views, of partiality, and of oppression, in the majority that happened to prevail in the national council. It seems to require no pains to prove that the States ought not to prefer a national Constitution which could only be kept in motion by the instrumentality of a large army continually on foot to execute the ordinary requisitions or decrees of the government. And yet this is the plain alternative involved by those who wish to deny it the power of extending its operations to individuals. Such a scheme, if practicable at all, would instantly degenerate into a military despotism; but it will be found in every light impracticable. The resources of the Union would not be equal to the maintenance of an army considerable enough to confine the larger States within the limits of their duty; nor would the means ever be furnished of forming such an army in the first instance. Whoever considers the populousness and strength of several of these States singly at the present juncture, and looks forward to what they will become, even at the distance of half a century, will at once dismiss as idle and visionary any scheme which aims at regulating their movements by laws to operate upon them in their collective capacities, and to be executed by a coercion applicable to them in the same capacities. A project of this kind is little less romantic than the monstertaming spirit which is attributed to the fabulous heroes and demigods of antiquity. Even in those confederacies which have been composed of members smaller than many of our counties, the principle of legislation for sovereign States, supported by military coercion, has never been found effectual. It has rarely been attempted to be employed, but against the weaker members; and in most instances attempts to coerce the refractory and disobedient have been the signals of bloody wars, in which one half of the confederacy has displayed its banners against the other half. The result of these observations to an intelligent mind must be clearly this, that if it be possible at any rate to construct a federal government capable of regulating the common concerns and preserving the general tranquillity, it must be founded, as to the objects committed to its care, upon the reverse of the principle contended for by the opponents of the proposed Constitution. It must carry its agency to the persons of the citizens. It must stand in need of no intermediate legislations; but must itself be empowered to employ the arm of the ordinary magistrate to execute its own resolutions. The majesty of the national authority must be manifested through the medium of the courts of justice. The government of the Union, like that of each State, must be able to address itself immediately to the hopes and fears of individuals; and to attract to its support those passions which have the strongest influence upon the human heart. It must, in short, possess all the means, and have aright to resort to all the methods, of executing the powers with which it is intrusted, that are possessed and exercised by the government of the particular States. To this reasoning it may perhaps be objected, that if any State should be disaffected to the authority of the Union, it could at any time obstruct the execution of its laws, and bring the matter to the same issue of force, with the necessity of which the opposite scheme is reproached. The plausibility of this objection will vanish the moment we advert to the essential difference between a mere NONCOMPLIANCE and a DIRECT and ACTIVE RESISTANCE. If the interposition of the State legislatures be necessary to give effect to a measure of the Union, they have only NOT TO ACT, or to ACT EVASIVELY, and the measure is defeated. This neglect of duty may be disguised under affected but unsubstantial provisions, so as not to appear, and of course not to excite any alarm in the people for the safety of the Constitution. The State leaders may even make a merit of their surreptitious invasions of it on the ground of some temporary convenience, exemption, or advantage. But if the execution of the laws of the national government should not require the intervention of the State legislatures, if they were to pass into immediate operation upon the citizens themselves, the particular governments could not interrupt their progress without an open and violent exertion of an unconstitutional power. No omissions nor evasions would answer the end. They would be obliged to act, and in such a manner as would leave no doubt that they had encroached on the national rights. An experiment of this nature would always be hazardous in the face of a constitution in any degree competent to its own defense, and of a people enlightened enough to distinguish between a legal exercise and an illegal usurpation of authority. The success of it would require not merely a factious majority in the legislature, but the concurrence of the courts of justice and of the body of the people. If the judges were not embarked in a conspiracy with the legislature, they would pronounce the resolutions of such a majority to be contrary to the supreme law of the land, unconstitutional, and void. If the people were not tainted with the spirit of their State representatives, they, as the natural guardians of the Constitution, would throw their weight into the national scale and give it a decided preponderancy in the contest. Attempts of this kind would not often be made with levity or rashness, because they could seldom be made without danger to the authors, unless in cases of a tyrannical exercise of the federal authority. If opposition to the national government should arise from the disorderly conduct of refractory or seditious individuals, it could be overcome by the same means which are daily employed against the same evil under the State governments. The magistracy, being equally the ministers of the law of the land, from whatever source it might emanate, would doubtless be as ready to guard the national as the local regulations from the inroads of private licentiousness. As to those partial commotions and insurrections, which sometimes disquiet society, from the intrigues of an inconsiderable faction, or from sudden or occasional illhumors that do not infect the great body of the community the general government could command more extensive resources for the suppression of disturbances of that kind than would be in the power of any single member. And as to those mortal feuds which, in certain conjunctures, spread a conflagration through a whole nation, or through a very large proportion of it, proceeding either from weighty causes of discontent given by the government or from the contagion of some violent popular paroxysm, they do not fall within any ordinary rules of calculation. When they happen, they commonly amount to revolutions and dismemberments of empire. No form of government can always either avoid or control them. It is in vain to hope to guard against events too mighty for human foresight or precaution, and it would be idle to object to a government because it could not perform impossibilities. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XVII. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: An objection, of a nature different from that which has been stated and answered, in my last address, may perhaps be likewise urged against the principle of legislation for the individual citizens of America. It may be said that it would tend to render the government of the Union too powerful, and to enable it to absorb those residuary authorities, which it might be judged proper to leave with the States for local purposes. Allowing the utmost latitude to the love of power which any reasonable man can require, I confess I am at a loss to discover what temptation the persons intrusted with the administration of the general government could ever feel to divest the States of the authorities of that description. The regulation of the mere domestic police of a State appears to me to hold out slender allurements to ambition. Commerce, finance, negotiation, and war seem to comprehend all the objects which have charms for minds governed by that passion; and all the powers necessary to those objects ought, in the first instance, to be lodged in the national depository. The administration of private justice between the citizens of the same State, the supervision of agriculture and of other concerns of a similar nature, all those things, in short, which are proper to be provided for by local legislation, can never be desirable cares of a general jurisdiction. It is therefore improbable that there should exist a disposition in the federal councils to usurp the powers with which they are connected; because the attempt to exercise those powers would be as troublesome as it would be nugatory; and the possession of them, for that reason, would contribute nothing to the dignity, to the importance, or to the splendor of the national government. But let it be admitted, for arguments sake, that mere wantonness and lust of domination would be sufficient to beget that disposition; still it may be safely affirmed, that the sense of the constituent body of the national representatives, or, in other words, the people of the several States, would control the indulgence of so extravagant an appetite. It will always be far more easy for the State governments to encroach upon the national authorities than for the national government to encroach upon the State authorities. The proof of this proposition turns upon the greater degree of influence which the State governments if they administer their affairs with uprightness and prudence, will generally possess over the people; a circumstance which at the same time teaches us that there is an inherent and intrinsic weakness in all federal constitutions; and that too much pains cannot be taken in their organization, to give them all the force which is compatible with the principles of liberty. The superiority of influence in favor of the particular governments would result partly from the diffusive construction of the national government, but chiefly from the nature of the objects to which the attention of the State administrations would be directed. It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the object. Upon the same principle that a man is more attached to his family than to his neighborhood, to his neighborhood than to the community at large, the people of each State would be apt to feel a stronger bias towards their local governments than towards the government of the Union; unless the force of that principle should be destroyed by a much better administration of the latter. This strong propensity of the human heart would find powerful auxiliaries in the objects of State regulation. The variety of more minute interests, which will necessarily fall under the superintendence of the local administrations, and which will form so many rivulets of influence, running through every part of the society, cannot be particularized, without involving a detail too tedious and uninteresting to compensate for the instruction it might afford. There is one transcendant advantage belonging to the province of the State governments, which alone suffices to place the matter in a clear and satisfactory light,I mean the ordinary administration of criminal and civil justice. This, of all others, is the most powerful, most universal, and most attractive source of popular obedience and attachment. It is that which, being the immediate and visible guardian of life and property, having its benefits and its terrors in constant activity before the public eye, regulating all those personal interests and familiar concerns to which the sensibility of individuals is more immediately awake, contributes, more than any other circumstance, to impressing upon the minds of the people, affection, esteem, and reverence towards the government. This great cement of society, which will diffuse itself almost wholly through the channels of the particular governments, independent of all other causes of influence, would insure them so decided an empire over their respective citizens as to render them at all times a complete counterpoise, and, not unfrequently, dangerous rivals to the power of the Union. The operations of the national government, on the other hand, falling less immediately under the observation of the mass of the citizens, the benefits derived from it will chiefly be perceived and attended to by speculative men. Relating to more general interests, they will be less apt to come home to the feelings of the people; and, in proportion, less likely to inspire an habitual sense of obligation, and an active sentiment of attachment. The reasoning on this head has been abundantly exemplified by the experience of all federal constitutions with which we are acquainted, and of all others which have borne the least analogy to them. Though the ancient feudal systems were not, strictly speaking, confederacies, yet they partook of the nature of that species of association. There was a common head, chieftain, or sovereign, whose authority extended over the whole nation; and a number of subordinate vassals, or feudatories, who had large portions of land allotted to them, and numerous trains of INFERIOR vassals or retainers, who occupied and cultivated that land upon the tenure of fealty or obedience, to the persons of whom they held it. Each principal vassal was a kind of sovereign, within his particular demesnes. The consequences of this situation were a continual opposition to authority of the sovereign, and frequent wars between the great barons or chief feudatories themselves. The power of the head of the nation was commonly too weak, either to preserve the public peace, or to protect the people against the oppressions of their immediate lords. This period of European affairs is emphatically styled by historians, the times of feudal anarchy. When the sovereign happened to be a man of vigorous and warlike temper and of superior abilities, he would acquire a personal weight and influence, which answered, for the time, the purpose of a more regular authority. But in general, the power of the barons triumphed over that of the prince; and in many instances his dominion was entirely thrown off, and the great fiefs were erected into independent principalities or States. In those instances in which the monarch finally prevailed over his vassals, his success was chiefly owing to the tyranny of those vassals over their dependents. The barons, or nobles, equally the enemies of the sovereign and the oppressors of the common people, were dreaded and detested by both; till mutual danger and mutual interest effected a union between them fatal to the power of the aristocracy. Had the nobles, by a conduct of clemency and justice, preserved the fidelity and devotion of their retainers and followers, the contests between them and the prince must almost always have ended in their favor, and in the abridgment or subversion of the royal authority. This is not an assertion founded merely in speculation or conjecture. Among other illustrations of its truth which might be cited, Scotland will furnish a cogent example. The spirit of clanship which was, at an early day, introduced into that kingdom, uniting the nobles and their dependants by ties equivalent to those of kindred, rendered the aristocracy a constant overmatch for the power of the monarch, till the incorporation with England subdued its fierce and ungovernable spirit, and reduced it within those rules of subordination which a more rational and more energetic system of civil polity had previously established in the latter kingdom. The separate governments in a confederacy may aptly be compared with the feudal baronies; with this advantage in their favor, that from the reasons already explained, they will generally possess the confidence and goodwill of the people, and with so important a support, will be able effectually to oppose all encroachments of the national government. It will be well if they are not able to counteract its legitimate and necessary authority. The points of similitude consist in the rivalship of power, applicable to both, and in the CONCENTRATION of large portions of the strength of the community into particular DEPOSITS, in one case at the disposal of individuals, in the other case at the disposal of political bodies. A concise review of the events that have attended confederate governments will further illustrate this important doctrine; an inattention to which has been the great source of our political mistakes, and has given our jealousy a direction to the wrong side. This review shall form the subject of some ensuing papers. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XVIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON AND MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Among the confederacies of antiquity, the most considerable was that of the Grecian republics, associated under the Amphictyonic council. From the best accounts transmitted of this celebrated institution, it bore a very instructive analogy to the present Confederation of the American States. The members retained the character of independent and sovereign states, and had equal votes in the federal council. This council had a general authority to propose and resolve whatever it judged necessary for the common welfare of Greece; to declare and carry on war; to decide, in the last resort, all controversies between the members; to fine the aggressing party; to employ the whole force of the confederacy against the disobedient; to admit new members. The Amphictyons were the guardians of religion, and of the immense riches belonging to the temple of Delphos, where they had the right of jurisdiction in controversies between the inhabitants and those who came to consult the oracle. As a further provision for the efficacy of the federal powers, they took an oath mutually to defend and protect the united cities, to punish the violators of this oath, and to inflict vengeance on sacrilegious despoilers of the temple. In theory, and upon paper, this apparatus of powers seems amply sufficient for all general purposes. In several material instances, they exceed the powers enumerated in the articles of confederation. The Amphictyons had in their hands the superstition of the times, one of the principal engines by which government was then maintained; they had a declared authority to use coercion against refractory cities, and were bound by oath to exert this authority on the necessary occasions. Very different, nevertheless, was the experiment from the theory. The powers, like those of the present Congress, were administered by deputies appointed wholly by the cities in their political capacities; and exercised over them in the same capacities. Hence the weakness, the disorders, and finally the destruction of the confederacy. The more powerful members, instead of being kept in awe and subordination, tyrannized successively over all the rest. Athens, as we learn from Demosthenes, was the arbiter of Greece seventythree years. The Lacedaemonians next governed it twentynine years; at a subsequent period, after the battle of Leuctra, the Thebans had their turn of domination. It happened but too often, according to Plutarch, that the deputies of the strongest cities awed and corrupted those of the weaker; and that judgment went in favor of the most powerful party. Even in the midst of defensive and dangerous wars with Persia and Macedon, the members never acted in concert, and were, more or fewer of them, eternally the dupes or the hirelings of the common enemy. The intervals of foreign war were filled up by domestic vicissitudes convulsions, and carnage. After the conclusion of the war with Xerxes, it appears that the Lacedaemonians required that a number of the cities should be turned out of the confederacy for the unfaithful part they had acted. The Athenians, finding that the Lacedaemonians would lose fewer partisans by such a measure than themselves, and would become masters of the public deliberations, vigorously opposed and defeated the attempt. This piece of history proves at once the inefficiency of the union, the ambition and jealousy of its most powerful members, and the dependent and degraded condition of the rest. The smaller members, though entitled by the theory of their system to revolve in equal pride and majesty around the common center, had become, in fact, satellites of the orbs of primary magnitude. Had the Greeks, says the Abbe Milot, been as wise as they were courageous, they would have been admonished by experience of the necessity of a closer union, and would have availed themselves of the peace which followed their success against the Persian arms, to establish such a reformation. Instead of this obvious policy, Athens and Sparta, inflated with the victories and the glory they had acquired, became first rivals and then enemies; and did each other infinitely more mischief than they had suffered from Xerxes. Their mutual jealousies, fears, hatreds, and injuries ended in the celebrated Peloponnesian war; which itself ended in the ruin and slavery of the Athenians who had begun it. As a weak government, when not at war, is ever agitated by internal dissentions, so these never fail to bring on fresh calamities from abroad. The Phocians having ploughed up some consecrated ground belonging to the temple of Apollo, the Amphictyonic council, according to the superstition of the age, imposed a fine on the sacrilegious offenders. The Phocians, being abetted by Athens and Sparta, refused to submit to the decree. The Thebans, with others of the cities, undertook to maintain the authority of the Amphictyons, and to avenge the violated god. The latter, being the weaker party, invited the assistance of Philip of Macedon, who had secretly fostered the contest. Philip gladly seized the opportunity of executing the designs he had long planned against the liberties of Greece. By his intrigues and bribes he won over to his interests the popular leaders of several cities; by their influence and votes, gained admission into the Amphictyonic council; and by his arts and his arms, made himself master of the confederacy. Such were the consequences of the fallacious principle on which this interesting establishment was founded. Had Greece, says a judicious observer on her fate, been united by a stricter confederation, and persevered in her union, she would never have worn the chains of Macedon; and might have proved a barrier to the vast projects of Rome. The Achaean league, as it is called, was another society of Grecian republics, which supplies us with valuable instruction. The Union here was far more intimate, and its organization much wiser, than in the preceding instance. It will accordingly appear, that though not exempt from a similar catastrophe, it by no means equally deserved it. The cities composing this league retained their municipal jurisdiction, appointed their own officers, and enjoyed a perfect equality. The senate, in which they were represented, had the sole and exclusive right of peace and war; of sending and receiving ambassadors; of entering into treaties and alliances; of appointing a chief magistrate or praetor, as he was called, who commanded their armies, and who, with the advice and consent of ten of the senators, not only administered the government in the recess of the senate, but had a great share in its deliberations, when assembled. According to the primitive constitution, there were two praetors associated in the administration; but on trial a single one was preferred. It appears that the cities had all the same laws and customs, the same weights and measures, and the same money. But how far this effect proceeded from the authority of the federal council is left in uncertainty. It is said only that the cities were in a manner compelled to receive the same laws and usages. When Lacedaemon was brought into the league by Philopoemen, it was attended with an abolition of the institutions and laws of Lycurgus, and an adoption of those of the Achaeans. The Amphictyonic confederacy, of which she had been a member, left her in the full exercise of her government and her legislation. This circumstance alone proves a very material difference in the genius of the two systems. It is much to be regretted that such imperfect monuments remain of this curious political fabric. Could its interior structure and regular operation be ascertained, it is probable that more light would be thrown by it on the science of federal government, than by any of the like experiments with which we are acquainted. One important fact seems to be witnessed by all the historians who take notice of Achaean affairs. It is, that as well after the renovation of the league by Aratus, as before its dissolution by the arts of Macedon, there was infinitely more of moderation and justice in the administration of its government, and less of violence and sedition in the people, than were to be found in any of the cities exercising SINGLY all the prerogatives of sovereignty. The Abbe Mably, in his observations on Greece, says that the popular government, which was so tempestuous elsewhere, caused no disorders in the members of the Achaean republic, BECAUSE IT WAS THERE TEMPERED BY THE GENERAL AUTHORITY AND LAWS OF THE CONFEDERACY. We are not to conclude too hastily, however, that faction did not, in a certain degree, agitate the particular cities; much less that a due subordination and harmony reigned in the general system. The contrary is sufficiently displayed in the vicissitudes and fate of the republic. Whilst the Amphictyonic confederacy remained, that of the Achaeans, which comprehended the less important cities only, made little figure on the theatre of Greece. When the former became a victim to Macedon, the latter was spared by the policy of Philip and Alexander. Under the successors of these princes, however, a different policy prevailed. The arts of division were practiced among the Achaeans. Each city was seduced into a separate interest; the union was dissolved. Some of the cities fell under the tyranny of Macedonian garrisons; others under that of usurpers springing out of their own confusions. Shame and oppression erelong awaken their love of liberty. A few cities reunited. Their example was followed by others, as opportunities were found of cutting off their tyrants. The league soon embraced almost the whole Peloponnesus. Macedon saw its progress; but was hindered by internal dissensions from stopping it. All Greece caught the enthusiasm and seemed ready to unite in one confederacy, when the jealousy and envy in Sparta and Athens, of the rising glory of the Achaeans, threw a fatal damp on the enterprise. The dread of the Macedonian power induced the league to court the alliance of the Kings of Egypt and Syria, who, as successors of Alexander, were rivals of the king of Macedon. This policy was defeated by Cleomenes, king of Sparta, who was led by his ambition to make an unprovoked attack on his neighbors, the Achaeans, and who, as an enemy to Macedon, had interest enough with the Egyptian and Syrian princes to effect a breach of their engagements with the league. The Achaeans were now reduced to the dilemma of submitting to Cleomenes, or of supplicating the aid of Macedon, its former oppressor. The latter expedient was adopted. The contests of the Greeks always afforded a pleasing opportunity to that powerful neighbor of intermeddling in their affairs. A Macedonian army quickly appeared. Cleomenes was vanquished. The Achaeans soon experienced, as often happens, that a victorious and powerful ally is but another name for a master. All that their most abject compliances could obtain from him was a toleration of the exercise of their laws. Philip, who was now on the throne of Macedon, soon provoked by his tyrannies, fresh combinations among the Greeks. The Achaeans, though weakened by internal dissensions and by the revolt of Messene, one of its members, being joined by the AEtolians and Athenians, erected the standard of opposition. Finding themselves, though thus supported, unequal to the undertaking, they once more had recourse to the dangerous expedient of introducing the succor of foreign arms. The Romans, to whom the invitation was made, eagerly embraced it. Philip was conquered; Macedon subdued. A new crisis ensued to the league. Dissensions broke out among it members. These the Romans fostered. Callicrates and other popular leaders became mercenary instruments for inveigling their countrymen. The more effectually to nourish discord and disorder the Romans had, to the astonishment of those who confided in their sincerity, already proclaimed universal liberty1 throughout Greece. With the same insidious views, they now seduced the members from the league, by representing to their pride the violation it committed on their sovereignty. By these arts this union, the last hope of Greece, the last hope of ancient liberty, was torn into pieces; and such imbecility and distraction introduced, that the arms of Rome found little difficulty in completing the ruin which their arts had commenced. The Achaeans were cut to pieces, and Achaia loaded with chains, under which it is groaning at this hour. I have thought it not superfluous to give the outlines of this important portion of history; both because it teaches more than one lesson, and because, as a supplement to the outlines of the Achaean constitution, it emphatically illustrates the tendency of federal bodies rather to anarchy among the members, than to tyranny in the head. PUBLIUS. 1 This was but another name more specious for the independence of the members on the federal head. THE FEDERALIST. No. XIX. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON AND MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The examples of ancient confederacies, cited in my last paper, have not exhausted the source of experimental instruction on this subject. There are existing institutions, founded on a similar principle, which merit particular consideration. The first which presents itself is the Germanic body. In the early ages of Christianity, Germany was occupied by seven distinct nations, who had no common chief. The Franks, one of the number, having conquered the Gauls, established the kingdom which has taken its name from them. In the ninth century Charlemagne, its warlike monarch, carried his victorious arms in every direction; and Germany became a part of his vast dominions. On the dismemberment, which took place under his sons, this part was erected into a separate and independent empire. Charlemagne and his immediate descendants possessed the reality, as well as the ensigns and dignity of imperial power. But the principal vassals, whose fiefs had become hereditary, and who composed the national diets which Charlemagne had not abolished, gradually threw off the yoke and advanced to sovereign jurisdiction and independence. The force of imperial sovereignty was insufficient to restrain such powerful dependants; or to preserve the unity and tranquillity of the empire. The most furious private wars, accompanied with every species of calamity, were carried on between the different princes and states. The imperial authority, unable to maintain the public order, declined by degrees till it was almost extinct in the anarchy, which agitated the long interval between the death of the last emperor of the Suabian, and the accession of the first emperor of the Austrian lines. In the eleventh century the emperors enjoyed full sovereignty: In the fifteenth they had little more than the symbols and decorations of power. Out of this feudal system, which has itself many of the important features of a confederacy, has grown the federal system which constitutes the Germanic empire. Its powers are vested in a diet representing the component members of the confederacy; in the emperor, who is the executive magistrate, with a negative on the decrees of the diet; and in the imperial chamber and the aulic council, two judiciary tribunals having supreme jurisdiction in controversies which concern the empire, or which happen among its members. The diet possesses the general power of legislating for the empire; of making war and peace; contracting alliances; assessing quotas of troops and money; constructing fortresses; regulating coin; admitting new members; and subjecting disobedient members to the ban of the empire, by which the party is degraded from his sovereign rights and his possessions forfeited. The members of the confederacy are expressly restricted from entering into compacts prejudicial to the empire; from imposing tolls and duties on their mutual intercourse, without the consent of the emperor and diet; from altering the value of money; from doing injustice to one another; or from affording assistance or retreat to disturbers of the public peace. And the ban is denounced against such as shall violate any of these restrictions. The members of the diet, as such, are subject in all cases to be judged by the emperor and diet, and in their private capacities by the aulic council and imperial chamber. The prerogatives of the emperor are numerous. The most important of them are: his exclusive right to make propositions to the diet; to negative its resolutions; to name ambassadors; to confer dignities and titles; to fill vacant electorates; to found universities; to grant privileges not injurious to the states of the empire; to receive and apply the public revenues; and generally to watch over the public safety. In certain cases, the electors form a council to him. In quality of emperor, he possesses no territory within the empire, nor receives any revenue for his support. But his revenue and dominions, in other qualities, constitute him one of the most powerful princes in Europe. From such a parade of constitutional powers, in the representatives and head of this confederacy, the natural supposition would be, that it must form an exception to the general character which belongs to its kindred systems. Nothing would be further from the reality. The fundamental principle on which it rests, that the empire is a community of sovereigns, that the diet is a representation of sovereigns and that the laws are addressed to sovereigns, renders the empire a nerveless body, incapable of regulating its own members, insecure against external dangers, and agitated with unceasing fermentations in its own bowels. The history of Germany is a history of wars between the emperor and the princes and states; of wars among the princes and states themselves; of the licentiousness of the strong, and the oppression of the weak; of foreign intrusions, and foreign intrigues; of requisitions of men and money disregarded, or partially complied with; of attempts to enforce them, altogether abortive, or attended with slaughter and desolation, involving the innocent with the guilty; of general inbecility, confusion, and misery. In the sixteenth century, the emperor, with one part of the empire on his side, was seen engaged against the other princes and states. In one of the conflicts, the emperor himself was put to flight, and very near being made prisoner by the elector of Saxony. The late king of Prussia was more than once pitted against his imperial sovereign; and commonly proved an overmatch for him. Controversies and wars among the members themselves have been so common, that the German annals are crowded with the bloody pages which describe them. Previous to the peace of Westphalia, Germany was desolated by a war of thirty years, in which the emperor, with one half of the empire, was on one side, and Sweden, with the other half, on the opposite side. Peace was at length negotiated, and dictated by foreign powers; and the articles of it, to which foreign powers are parties, made a fundamental part of the Germanic constitution. If the nation happens, on any emergency, to be more united by the necessity of selfdefense, its situation is still deplorable. Military preparations must be preceded by so many tedious discussions, arising from the jealousies, pride, separate views, and clashing pretensions of sovereign bodies, that before the diet can settle the arrangements, the enemy are in the field; and before the federal troops are ready to take it, are retiring into winter quarters. The small body of national troops, which has been judged necessary in time of peace, is defectively kept up, badly paid, infected with local prejudices, and supported by irregular and disproportionate contributions to the treasury. The impossibility of maintaining order and dispensing justice among these sovereign subjects, produced the experiment of dividing the empire into nine or ten circles or districts; of giving them an interior organization, and of charging them with the military execution of the laws against delinquent and contumacious members. This experiment has only served to demonstrate more fully the radical vice of the constitution. Each circle is the miniature picture of the deformities of this political monster. They either fail to execute their commissions, or they do it with all the devastation and carnage of civil war. Sometimes whole circles are defaulters; and then they increase the mischief which they were instituted to remedy. We may form some judgment of this scheme of military coercion from a sample given by Thuanus. In Donawerth, a free and imperial city of the circle of Suabia, the Abb 300 de St. Croix enjoyed certain immunities which had been reserved to him. In the exercise of these, on some public occasions, outrages were committed on him by the people of the city. The consequence was that the city was put under the ban of the empire, and the Duke of Bavaria, though director of another circle, obtained an appointment to enforce it. He soon appeared before the city with a corps of ten thousand troops, and finding it a fit occasion, as he had secretly intended from the beginning, to revive an antiquated claim, on the pretext that his ancestors had suffered the place to be dismembered from his territory,1 he took possession of it in his own name, disarmed, and punished the inhabitants, and reannexed the city to his domains. It may be asked, perhaps, what has so long kept this disjointed machine from falling entirely to pieces? The answer is obvious: The weakness of most of the members, who are unwilling to expose themselves to the mercy of foreign powers; the weakness of most of the principal members, compared with the formidable powers all around them; the vast weight and influence which the emperor derives from his separate and heriditary dominions; and the interest he feels in preserving a system with which his family pride is connected, and which constitutes him the first prince in Europe; these causes support a feeble and precarious Union; whilst the repellant quality, incident to the nature of sovereignty, and which time continually strengthens, prevents any reform whatever, founded on a proper consolidation. Nor is it to be imagined, if this obstacle could be surmounted, that the neighboring powers would suffer a revolution to take place which would give to the empire the force and preeminence to which it is entitled. Foreign nations have long considered themselves as interested in the changes made by events in this constitution; and have, on various occasions, betrayed their policy of perpetuating its anarchy and weakness. If more direct examples were wanting, Poland, as a government over local sovereigns, might not improperly be taken notice of. Nor could any proof more striking be given of the calamities flowing from such institutions. Equally unfit for selfgovernment and selfdefense, it has long been at the mercy of its powerful neighbors; who have lately had the mercy to disburden it of one third of its people and territories. The connection among the Swiss cantons scarcely amounts to a confederacy; though it is sometimes cited as an instance of the stability of such institutions. They have no common treasury; no common troops even in war; no common coin; no common judicatory; nor any other common mark of sovereignty. They are kept together by the peculiarity of their topographical position; by their individual weakness and insignificancy; by the fear of powerful neighbors, to one of which they were formerly subject; by the few sources of contention among a people of such simple and homogeneous manners; by their joint interest in their dependent possessions; by the mutual aid they stand in need of, for suppressing insurrections and rebellions, an aid expressly stipulated and often required and afforded; and by the necessity of some regular and permanent provision for accomodating disputes among the cantons. The provision is, that the parties at variance shall each choose four judges out of the neutral cantons, who, in case of disagreement, choose an umpire. This tribunal, under an oath of impartiality, pronounces definitive sentence, which all the cantons are bound to enforce. The competency of this regulation may be estimated by a clause in their treaty of 1683, with Victor Amadeus of Savoy; in which he obliges himself to interpose as mediator in disputes between the cantons, and to employ force, if necessary, against the contumacious party. So far as the peculiarity of their case will admit of comparison with that of the United States, it serves to confirm the principle intended to be established. Whatever efficacy the union may have had in ordinary cases, it appears that the moment a cause of difference sprang up, capable of trying its strength, it failed. The controversies on the subject of religion, which in three instances have kindled violent and bloody contests, may be said, in fact, to have severed the league. The Protestant and Catholic cantons have since had their separate diets, where all the most important concerns are adjusted, and which have left the general diet little other business than to take care of the common bailages. That separation had another consequence, which merits attention. It produced opposite alliances with foreign powers: of Berne, at the head of the Protestant association, with the United Provinces; and of Luzerne, at the head of the Catholic association, with France. PUBLIUS. 1 Pfeffel, Nouvel Abrg. Chronol. de lHist., etc., dAllemagne, says the pretext was to indemnify himself for the expense of the expedition. THE FEDERALIST. No. XX. The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 11, 1787. HAMILTON AND MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The United Netherlands are a confederacy of republics, or rather of aristocracies of a very remarkable texture, yet confirming all the lessons derived from those which we have already reviewed. The union is composed of seven coequal and sovereign states, and each state or province is a composition of equal and independent cities. In all important cases, not only the provinces but the cities must be unanimous. The sovereignty of the Union is represented by the StatesGeneral, consisting usually of about fifty deputies appointed by the provinces. They hold their seats, some for life, some for six, three, and one years; from two provinces they continue in appointment during pleasure. The StatesGeneral have authority to enter into treaties and alliances; to make war and peace; to raise armies and equip fleets; to ascertain quotas and demand contributions. In all these cases, however, unanimity and the sanction of their constituents are requisite. They have authority to appoint and receive ambassadors; to execute treaties and alliances already formed; to provide for the collection of duties on imports and exports; to regulate the mint, with a saving to the provincial rights; to govern as sovereigns the dependent territories. The provinces are restrained, unless with the general consent, from entering into foreign treaties; from establishing imposts injurious to others, or charging their neighbors with higher duties than their own subjects. A council of state, a chamber of accounts, with five colleges of admiralty, aid and fortify the federal administration. The executive magistrate of the union is the stadtholder, who is now an hereditary prince. His principal weight and influence in the republic are derived from this independent title; from his great patrimonial estates; from his family connections with some of the chief potentates of Europe; and, more than all, perhaps, from his being stadtholder in the several provinces, as well as for the union; in which provincial quality he has the appointment of town magistrates under certain regulations, executes provincial decrees, presides when he pleases in the provincial tribunals, and has throughout the power of pardon. As stadtholder of the union, he has, however, considerable prerogatives. In his political capacity he has authority to settle disputes between the provinces, when other methods fail; to assist at the deliberations of the StatesGeneral, and at their particular conferences; to give audiences to foreign ambassadors, and to keep agents for his particular affairs at foreign courts. In his military capacity he commands the federal troops, provides for garrisons, and in general regulates military affairs; disposes of all appointments, from colonels to ensigns, and of the governments and posts of fortified towns. In his marine capacity he is admiralgeneral, and superintends and directs every thing relative to naval forces and other naval affairs; presides in the admiralties in person or by proxy; appoints lieutenantadmirals and other officers; and establishes councils of war, whose sentences are not executed till he approves them. His revenue, exclusive of his private income, amounts to three hundred thousand florins. The standing army which he commands consists of about forty thousand men. Such is the nature of the celebrated Belgic confederacy, as delineated on parchment. What are the characters which practice has stamped upon it? Imbecility in the government; discord among the provinces; foreign influence and indignities; a precarious existence in peace, and peculiar calamities from war. It was long ago remarked by Grotius, that nothing but the hatred of his countrymen to the house of Austria kept them from being ruined by the vices of their constitution. The union of Utrecht, says another respectable writer, reposes an authority in the StatesGeneral, seemingly sufficient to secure harmony, but the jealousy in each province renders the practice very different from the theory. The same instrument, says another, obliges each province to levy certain contributions; but this article never could, and probably never will, be executed; because the inland provinces, who have little commerce, cannot pay an equal quota. In matters of contribution, it is the practice to waive the articles of the constitution. The danger of delay obliges the consenting provinces to furnish their quotas, without waiting for the others; and then to obtain reimbursement from the others, by deputations, which are frequent, or otherwise, as they can. The great wealth and influence of the province of Holland enable her to effect both these purposes. It has more than once happened, that the deficiencies had to be ultimately collected at the point of the bayonet; a thing practicable, though dreadful, in a confedracy where one of the members exceeds in force all the rest, and where several of them are too small to meditate resistance; but utterly impracticable in one composed of members, several of which are equal to each other in strength and resources, and equal singly to a vigorous and persevering defense. Foreign ministers, says Sir William Temple, who was himself a foreign minister, elude matters taken ad referendum, by tampering with the provinces and cities. In 1726, the treaty of Hanover was delayed by these means a whole year. Instances of a like nature are numerous and notorious. In critical emergencies, the StatesGeneral are often compelled to overleap their constitutional bounds. In 1688, they concluded a treaty of themselves at the risk of their heads. The treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, by which their independence was formerly and finally recognized, was concluded without the consent of Zealand. Even as recently as the last treaty of peace with Great Britain, the constitutional principle of unanimity was departed from. A weak constitution must necessarily terminate in dissolution, for want of proper powers, or the usurpation of powers requisite for the public safety. Whether the usurpation, when once begun, will stop at the salutary point, or go forward to the dangerous extreme, must depend on the contingencies of the moment. Tyranny has perhaps oftener grown out of the assumptions of power, called for, on pressing exigencies, by a defective constitution, than out of the full exercise of the largest constitutional authorities. Notwithstanding the calamities produced by the stadtholdership, it has been supposed that without his influence in the individual provinces, the causes of anarchy manifest in the confederacy would long ago have dissolved it. Under such a government, says the Abbe Mably, the Union could never have subsisted, if the provinces had not a spring within themselves, capable of quickening their tardiness, and compelling them to the same way of thinking. This spring is the stadtholder. It is remarked by Sir William Temple, that in the intermissions of the stadtholdership, Holland, by her riches and her authority, which drew the others into a sort of dependence, supplied the place. These are not the only circumstances which have controlled the tendency to anarchy and dissolution. The surrounding powers impose an absolute necessity of union to a certain degree, at the same time that they nourish by their intrigues the constitutional vices which keep the republic in some degree always at their mercy. The true patriots have long bewailed the fatal tendency of these vices, and have made no less than four regular experiments by EXTRAORDINARY ASSEMBLIES, convened for the special purpose, to apply a remedy. As many times has their laudable zeal found it impossible to UNITE THE PUBLIC COUNCILS in reforming the known, the acknowledged, the fatal evils of the existing constitution. Let us pause, my fellowcitizens, for one moment, over this melancholy and monitory lesson of history; and with the tear that drops for the calamities brought on mankind by their adverse opinions and selfish passions, let our gratitude mingle an ejaculation to Heaven, for the propitious concord which has distinguished the consultations for our political happiness. A design was also conceived of establishing a general tax to be administered by the federal authority. This also had its adversaries and failed. This unhappy people seem to be now suffering from popular convulsions, from dissensions among the states, and from the actual invasion of foreign arms, the crisis of their destiny. All nations have their eyes fixed on the awful spectacle. The first wish prompted by humanity is, that this severe trial may issue in such a revolution of their government as will establish their union, and render it the parent of tranquillity, freedom and happiness: The next, that the asylum under which, we trust, the enjoyment of these blessings will speedily be secured in this country, may receive and console them for the catastrophe of their own. I make no apology for having dwelt so long on the contemplation of these federal precedents. Experience is the oracle of truth; and where its responses are unequivocal, they ought to be conclusive and sacred. The important truth, which it unequivocally pronounces in the present case, is that a sovereignty over sovereigns, a government over governments, a legislation for communities, as contradistinguished from individuals, as it is a solecism in theory, so in practice it is subversive of the order and ends of civil polity, by substituting VIOLENCE in place of LAW, or the destructive COERCION of the SWORD in place of the mild and salutary COERCION of the MAGISTRACY. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXI. Other Defects of the Present Confederation For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Having in the three last numbers taken a summary review of the principal circumstances and events which have depicted the genius and fate of other confederate governments, I shall now proceed in the enumeration of the most important of those defects which have hitherto disappointed our hopes from the system established among ourselves. To form a safe and satisfactory judgment of the proper remedy, it is absolutely necessary that we should be well acquainted with the extent and malignity of the disease. The next most palpable defect of the subsisting Confederation, is the total want of a SANCTION to its laws. The United States, as now composed, have no powers to exact obedience, or punish disobedience to their resolutions, either by pecuniary mulcts, by a suspension or divestiture of privileges, or by any other constitutional mode. There is no express delegation of authority to them to use force against delinquent members; and if such a right should be ascribed to the federal head, as resulting from the nature of the social compact between the States, it must be by inference and construction, in the face of that part of the second article, by which it is declared, that each State shall retain every power, jurisdiction, and right, not EXPRESSLY delegated to the United States in Congress assembled. There is, doubtless, a striking absurdity in supposing that a right of this kind does not exist, but we are reduced to the dilemma either of embracing that supposition, preposterous as it may seem, or of contravening or explaining away a provision, which has been of late a repeated theme of the eulogies of those who oppose the new Constitution; and the want of which, in that plan, has been the subject of much plausible animadversion, and severe criticism. If we are unwilling to impair the force of this applauded provision, we shall be obliged to conclude, that the United States afford the extraordinary spectacle of a government destitute even of the shadow of constitutional power to enforce the execution of its own laws. It will appear, from the specimens which have been cited, that the American Confederacy, in this particular, stands discriminated from every other institution of a similar kind, and exhibits a new and unexampled phenomenon in the political world. The want of a mutual guaranty of the State governments is another capital imperfection in the federal plan. There is nothing of this kind declared in the articles that compose it; and to imply a tacit guaranty from considerations of utility, would be a still more flagrant departure from the clause which has been mentioned, than to imply a tacit power of coercion from the like considerations. The want of a guaranty, though it might in its consequences endanger the Union, does not so immediately attack its existence as the want of a constitutional sanction to its laws. Without a guaranty the assistance to be derived from the Union in repelling those domestic dangers which may sometimes threaten the existence of the State constitutions, must be renounced. Usurpation may rear its crest in each State, and trample upon the liberties of the people, while the national government could legally do nothing more than behold its encroachments with indignation and regret. A successful faction may erect a tyranny on the ruins of order and law, while no succor could constitutionally be afforded by the Union to the friends and supporters of the government. The tempestuous situation from which Massachusetts has scarcely emerged, evinces that dangers of this kind are not merely speculative. Who can determine what might have been the issue of her late convulsions, if the malcontents had been headed by a Caesar or by a Cromwell? Who can predict what effect a despotism, established in Massachusetts, would have upon the liberties of New Hampshire or Rhode Island, of Connecticut or New York? The inordinate pride of State importance has suggested to some minds an objection to the principle of a guaranty in the federal government, as involving an officious interference in the domestic concerns of the members. A scruple of this kind would deprive us of one of the principal advantages to be expected from union, and can only flow from a misapprehension of the nature of the provision itself. It could be no impediment to reforms of the State constitution by a majority of the people in a legal and peaceable mode. This right would remain undiminished. The guaranty could only operate against changes to be effected by violence. Towards the preventions of calamities of this kind, too many checks cannot be provided. The peace of society and the stability of government depend absolutely on the efficacy of the precautions adopted on this head. Where the whole power of the government is in the hands of the people, there is the less pretense for the use of violent remedies in partial or occasional distempers of the State. The natural cure for an illadministration, in a popular or representative constitution, is a change of men. A guaranty by the national authority would be as much levelled against the usurpations of rulers as against the ferments and outrages of faction and sedition in the community. The principle of regulating the contributions of the States to the common treasury by QUOTAS is another fundamental error in the Confederation. Its repugnancy to an adequate supply of the national exigencies has been already pointed out, and has sufficiently appeared from the trial which has been made of it. I speak of it now solely with a view to equality among the States. Those who have been accustomed to contemplate the circumstances which produce and constitute national wealth, must be satisfied that there is no common standard or barometer by which the degrees of it can be ascertained. Neither the value of lands, nor the numbers of the people, which have been successively proposed as the rule of State contributions, has any pretension to being a just representative. If we compare the wealth of the United Netherlands with that of Russia or Germany, or even of France, and if we at the same time compare the total value of the lands and the aggregate population of that contracted district with the total value of the lands and the aggregate population of the immense regions of either of the three lastmentioned countries, we shall at once discover that there is no comparison between the proportion of either of these two objects and that of the relative wealth of those nations. If the like parallel were to be run between several of the American States, it would furnish a like result. Let Virginia be contrasted with North Carolina, Pennsylvania with Connecticut, or Maryland with New Jersey, and we shall be convinced that the respective abilities of those States, in relation to revenue, bear little or no analogy to their comparative stock in lands or to their comparative population. The position may be equally illustrated by a similar process between the counties of the same State. No man who is acquainted with the State of New York will doubt that the active wealth of Kings County bears a much greater proportion to that of Montgomery than it would appear to be if we should take either the total value of the lands or the total number of the people as a criterion! The wealth of nations depends upon an infinite variety of causes. Situation, soil, climate, the nature of the productions, the nature of the government, the genius of the citizens, the degree of information they possess, the state of commerce, of arts, of industry, these circumstances and many more, too complex, minute, or adventitious to admit of a particular specification, occasion differences hardly conceivable in the relative opulence and riches of different countries. The consequence clearly is that there can be no common measure of national wealth, and, of course, no general or stationary rule by which the ability of a state to pay taxes can be determined. The attempt, therefore, to regulate the contributions of the members of a confederacy by any such rule, cannot fail to be productive of glaring inequality and extreme oppression. This inequality would of itself be sufficient in America to work the eventual destruction of the Union, if any mode of enforcing a compliance with its requisitions could be devised. The suffering States would not long consent to remain associated upon a principle which distributes the public burdens with so unequal a hand, and which was calculated to impoverish and oppress the citizens of some States, while those of others would scarcely be conscious of the small proportion of the weight they were required to sustain. This, however, is an evil inseparable from the principle of quotas and requisitions. There is no method of steering clear of this inconvenience, but by authorizing the national government to raise its own revenues in its own way. Imposts, excises, and, in general, all duties upon articles of consumption, may be compared to a fluid, which will, in time, find its level with the means of paying them. The amount to be contributed by each citizen will in a degree be at his own option, and can be regulated by an attention to his resources. The rich may be extravagant, the poor can be frugal; and private oppression may always be avoided by a judicious selection of objects proper for such impositions. If inequalities should arise in some States from duties on particular objects, these will, in all probability, be counterbalanced by proportional inequalities in other States, from the duties on other objects. In the course of time and things, an equilibrium, as far as it is attainable in so complicated a subject, will be established everywhere. Or, if inequalities should still exist, they would neither be so great in their degree, so uniform in their operation, nor so odious in their appearance, as those which would necessarily spring from quotas, upon any scale that can possibly be devised. It is a signal advantage of taxes on articles of consumption, that they contain in their own nature a security against excess. They prescribe their own limit; which cannot be exceeded without defeating the end proposed, that is, an extension of the revenue. When applied to this object, the saying is as just as it is witty, that, in political arithmetic, two and two do not always make four. If duties are too high, they lessen the consumption; the collection is eluded; and the product to the treasury is not so great as when they are confined within proper and moderate bounds. This forms a complete barrier against any material oppression of the citizens by taxes of this class, and is itself a natural limitation of the power of imposing them. Impositions of this kind usually fall under the denomination of indirect taxes, and must for a long time constitute the chief part of the revenue raised in this country. Those of the direct kind, which principally relate to land and buildings, may admit of a rule of apportionment. Either the value of land, or the number of the people, may serve as a standard. The state of agriculture and the populousness of a country have been considered as nearly connected with each other. And, as a rule, for the purpose intended, numbers, in the view of simplicity and certainty, are entitled to a preference. In every country it is a herculean task to obtain a valuation of the land; in a country imperfectly settled and progressive in improvement, the difficulties are increased almost to impracticability. The expense of an accurate valuation is, in all situations, a formidable objection. In a branch of taxation where no limits to the discretion of the government are to be found in the nature of things, the establishment of a fixed rule, not incompatible with the end, may be attended with fewer inconveniences than to leave that discretion altogether at large. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXII. The Same Subject Continued (Other Defects of the Present Confederation) From the New York Packet. Friday, December 14, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: In addition to the defects already enumerated in the existing federal system, there are others of not less importance, which concur in rendering it altogether unfit for the administration of the affairs of the Union. The want of a power to regulate commerce is by all parties allowed to be of the number. The utility of such a power has been anticipated under the first head of our inquiries; and for this reason, as well as from the universal conviction entertained upon the subject, little need be added in this place. It is indeed evident, on the most superficial view, that there is no object, either as it respects the interests of trade or finance, that more strongly demands a federal superintendence. The want of it has already operated as a bar to the formation of beneficial treaties with foreign powers, and has given occasions of dissatisfaction between the States. No nation acquainted with the nature of our political association would be unwise enough to enter into stipulations with the United States, by which they conceded privileges of any importance to them, while they were apprised that the engagements on the part of the Union might at any moment be violated by its members, and while they found from experience that they might enjoy every advantage they desired in our markets, without granting us any return but such as their momentary convenience might suggest. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that Mr. Jenkinson, in ushering into the House of Commons a bill for regulating the temporary intercourse between the two countries, should preface its introduction by a declaration that similar provisions in former bills had been found to answer every purpose to the commerce of Great Britain, and that it would be prudent to persist in the plan until it should appear whether the American government was likely or not to acquire greater consistency.1 Several States have endeavored, by separate prohibitions, restrictions, and exclusions, to influence the conduct of that kingdom in this particular, but the want of concert, arising from the want of a general authority and from clashing and dissimilar views in the State, has hitherto frustrated every experiment of the kind, and will continue to do so as long as the same obstacles to a uniformity of measures continue to exist. The interfering and unneighborly regulations of some States, contrary to the true spirit of the Union, have, in different instances, given just cause of umbrage and complaint to others, and it is to be feared that examples of this nature, if not restrained by a national control, would be multiplied and extended till they became not less serious sources of animosity and discord than injurious impediments to the intercourse between the different parts of the Confederacy. The commerce of the German empire2 is in continual trammels from the multiplicity of the duties which the several princes and states exact upon the merchandises passing through their territories, by means of which the fine streams and navigable rivers with which Germany is so happily watered are rendered almost useless. Though the genius of the people of this country might never permit this description to be strictly applicable to us, yet we may reasonably expect, from the gradual conflicts of State regulations, that the citizens of each would at length come to be considered and treated by the others in no better light than that of foreigners and aliens. The power of raising armies, by the most obvious construction of the articles of the Confederation, is merely a power of making requisitions upon the States for quotas of men. This practice in the course of the late war, was found replete with obstructions to a vigorous and to an economical system of defense. It gave birth to a competition between the States which created a kind of auction for men. In order to furnish the quotas required of them, they outbid each other till bounties grew to an enormous and insupportable size. The hope of a still further increase afforded an inducement to those who were disposed to serve to procrastinate their enlistment, and disinclined them from engaging for any considerable periods. Hence, slow and scanty levies of men, in the most critical emergencies of our affairs; short enlistments at an unparalleled expense; continual fluctuations in the troops, ruinous to their discipline and subjecting the public safety frequently to the perilous crisis of a disbanded army. Hence, also, those oppressive expedients for raising men which were upon several occasions practiced, and which nothing but the enthusiasm of liberty would have induced the people to endure. This method of raising troops is not more unfriendly to economy and vigor than it is to an equal distribution of the burden. The States near the seat of war, influenced by motives of selfpreservation, made efforts to furnish their quotas, which even exceeded their abilities; while those at a distance from danger were, for the most part, as remiss as the others were diligent, in their exertions. The immediate pressure of this inequality was not in this case, as in that of the contributions of money, alleviated by the hope of a final liquidation. The States which did not pay their proportions of money might at least be charged with their deficiencies; but no account could be formed of the deficiencies in the supplies of men. We shall not, however, see much reason to reget the want of this hope, when we consider how little prospect there is, that the most delinquent States will ever be able to make compensation for their pecuniary failures. The system of quotas and requisitions, whether it be applied to men or money, is, in every view, a system of imbecility in the Union, and of inequality and injustice among the members. The right of equal suffrage among the States is another exceptionable part of the Confederation. Every idea of proportion and every rule of fair representation conspire to condemn a principle, which gives to Rhode Island an equal weight in the scale of power with Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New York; and to Deleware an equal voice in the national deliberations with Pennsylvania, or Virginia, or North Carolina. Its operation contradicts the fundamental maxim of republican government, which requires that the sense of the majority should prevail. Sophistry may reply, that sovereigns are equal, and that a majority of the votes of the States will be a majority of confederated America. But this kind of logical legerdemain will never counteract the plain suggestions of justice and commonsense. It may happen that this majority of States is a small minority of the people of America;3 and two thirds of the people of America could not long be persuaded, upon the credit of artificial distinctions and syllogistic subtleties, to submit their interests to the management and disposal of one third. The larger States would after a while revolt from the idea of receiving the law from the smaller. To acquiesce in such a privation of their due importance in the political scale, would be not merely to be insensible to the love of power, but even to sacrifice the desire of equality. It is neither rational to expect the first, nor just to require the last. The smaller States, considering how peculiarly their safety and welfare depend on union, ought readily to renounce a pretension which, if not relinquished, would prove fatal to its duration. It may be objected to this, that not seven but nine States, or two thirds of the whole number, must consent to the most important resolutions; and it may be thence inferred that nine States would always comprehend a majority of the Union. But this does not obviate the impropriety of an equal vote between States of the most unequal dimensions and populousness; nor is the inference accurate in point of fact; for we can enumerate nine States which contain less than a majority of the people;4 and it is constitutionally possible that these nine may give the vote. Besides, there are matters of considerable moment determinable by a bare majority; and there are others, concerning which doubts have been entertained, which, if interpreted in favor of the sufficiency of a vote of seven States, would extend its operation to interests of the first magnitude. In addition to this, it is to be observed that there is a probability of an increase in the number of States, and no provision for a proportional augmentation of the ratio of votes. But this is not all: what at first sight may seem a remedy, is, in reality, a poison. To give a minority a negative upon the majority (which is always the case where more than a majority is requisite to a decision), is, in its tendency, to subject the sense of the greater number to that of the lesser. Congress, from the nonattendance of a few States, have been frequently in the situation of a Polish diet, where a single VOTE has been sufficient to put a stop to all their movements. A sixtieth part of the Union, which is about the proportion of Delaware and Rhode Island, has several times been able to oppose an entire bar to its operations. This is one of those refinements which, in practice, has an effect the reverse of what is expected from it in theory. The necessity of unanimity in public bodies, or of something approaching towards it, has been founded upon a supposition that it would contribute to security. But its real operation is to embarrass the administration, to destroy the energy of the government, and to substitute the pleasure, caprice, or artifices of an insignificant, turbulent, or corrupt junto, to the regular deliberations and decisions of a respectable majority. In those emergencies of a nation, in which the goodness or badness, the weakness or strength of its government, is of the greatest importance, there is commonly a necessity for action. The public business must, in some way or other, go forward. If a pertinacious minority can control the opinion of a majority, respecting the best mode of conducting it, the majority, in order that something may be done, must conform to the views of the minority; and thus the sense of the smaller number will overrule that of the greater, and give a tone to the national proceedings. Hence, tedious delays; continual negotiation and intrigue; contemptible compromises of the public good. And yet, in such a system, it is even happy when such compromises can take place: for upon some occasions things will not admit of accommodation; and then the measures of government must be injuriously suspended, or fatally defeated. It is often, by the impracticability of obtaining the concurrence of the necessary number of votes, kept in a state of inaction. Its situation must always savor of weakness, sometimes border upon anarchy. It is not difficult to discover, that a principle of this kind gives greater scope to foreign corruption, as well as to domestic faction, than that which permits the sense of the majority to decide; though the contrary of this has been presumed. The mistake has proceeded from not attending with due care to the mischiefs that may be occasioned by obstructing the progress of government at certain critical seasons. When the concurrence of a large number is required by the Constitution to the doing of any national act, we are apt to rest satisfied that all is safe, because nothing improper will be likely TO BE DONE, but we forget how much good may be prevented, and how much ill may be produced, by the power of hindering the doing what may be necessary, and of keeping affairs in the same unfavorable posture in which they may happen to stand at particular periods. Suppose, for instance, we were engaged in a war, in conjunction with one foreign nation, against another. Suppose the necessity of our situation demanded peace, and the interest or ambition of our ally led him to seek the prosecution of the war, with views that might justify us in making separate terms. In such a state of things, this ally of ours would evidently find it much easier, by his bribes and intrigues, to tie up the hands of government from making peace, where two thirds of all the votes were requisite to that object, than where a simple majority would suffice. In the first case, he would have to corrupt a smaller number; in the last, a greater number. Upon the same principle, it would be much easier for a foreign power with which we were at war to perplex our councils and embarrass our exertions. And, in a commercial view, we may be subjected to similar inconveniences. A nation, with which we might have a treaty of commerce, could with much greater facility prevent our forming a connection with her competitor in trade, though such a connection should be ever so beneficial to ourselves. Evils of this description ought not to be regarded as imaginary. One of the weak sides of republics, among their numerous advantages, is that they afford too easy an inlet to foreign corruption. An hereditary monarch, though often disposed to sacrifice his subjects to his ambition, has so great a personal interest in the government and in the external glory of the nation, that it is not easy for a foreign power to give him an equivalent for what he would sacrifice by treachery to the state. The world has accordingly been witness to few examples of this species of royal prostitution, though there have been abundant specimens of every other kind. In republics, persons elevated from the mass of the community, by the suffrages of their fellowcitizens, to stations of great preeminence and power, may find compensations for betraying their trust, which, to any but minds animated and guided by superior virtue, may appear to exceed the proportion of interest they have in the common stock, and to overbalance the obligations of duty. Hence it is that history furnishes us with so many mortifying examples of the prevalency of foreign corruption in republican governments. How much this contributed to the ruin of the ancient commonwealths has been already delineated. It is well known that the deputies of the United Provinces have, in various instances, been purchased by the emissaries of the neighboring kingdoms. The Earl of Chesterfield (if my memory serves me right), in a letter to his court, intimates that his success in an important negotiation must depend on his obtaining a majors commission for one of those deputies. And in Sweden the parties were alternately bought by France and England in so barefaced and notorious a manner that it excited universal disgust in the nation, and was a principal cause that the most limited monarch in Europe, in a single day, without tumult, violence, or opposition, became one of the most absolute and uncontrolled. A circumstance which crowns the defects of the Confederation remains yet to be mentioned, the want of a judiciary power. Laws are a dead letter without courts to expound and define their true meaning and operation. The treaties of the United States, to have any force at all, must be considered as part of the law of the land. Their true import, as far as respects individuals, must, like all other laws, be ascertained by judicial determinations. To produce uniformity in these determinations, they ought to be submitted, in the last resort, to one SUPREME TRIBUNAL. And this tribunal ought to be instituted under the same authority which forms the treaties themselves. These ingredients are both indispensable. If there is in each State a court of final jurisdiction, there may be as many different final determinations on the same point as there are courts. There are endless diversities in the opinions of men. We often see not only different courts but the judges of the came court differing from each other. To avoid the confusion which would unavoidably result from the contradictory decisions of a number of independent judicatories, all nations have found it necessary to establish one court paramount to the rest, possessing a general superintendence, and authorized to settle and declare in the last resort a uniform rule of civil justice. This is the more necessary where the frame of the government is so compounded that the laws of the whole are in danger of being contravened by the laws of the parts. In this case, if the particular tribunals are invested with a right of ultimate jurisdiction, besides the contradictions to be expected from difference of opinion, there will be much to fear from the bias of local views and prejudices, and from the interference of local regulations. As often as such an interference was to happen, there would be reason to apprehend that the provisions of the particular laws might be preferred to those of the general laws; for nothing is more natural to men in office than to look with peculiar deference towards that authority to which they owe their official existence. The treaties of the United States, under the present Constitution, are liable to the infractions of thirteen different legislatures, and as many different courts of final jurisdiction, acting under the authority of those legislatures. The faith, the reputation, the peace of the whole Union, are thus continually at the mercy of the prejudices, the passions, and the interests of every member of which it is composed. Is it possible that foreign nations can either respect or confide in such a government? Is it possible that the people of America will longer consent to trust their honor, their happiness, their safety, on so precarious a foundation? In this review of the Confederation, I have confined myself to the exhibition of its most material defects; passing over those imperfections in its details by which even a great part of the power intended to be conferred upon it has been in a great measure rendered abortive. It must be by this time evident to all men of reflection, who can divest themselves of the prepossessions of preconceived opinions, that it is a system so radically vicious and unsound, as to admit not of amendment but by an entire change in its leading features and characters. The organization of Congress is itself utterly improper for the exercise of those powers which are necessary to be deposited in the Union. A single assembly may be a proper receptacle of those slender, or rather fettered, authorities, which have been heretofore delegated to the federal head; but it would be inconsistent with all the principles of good government, to intrust it with those additional powers which, even the moderate and more rational adversaries of the proposed Constitution admit, ought to reside in the United States. If that plan should not be adopted, and if the necessity of the Union should be able to withstand the ambitious aims of those men who may indulge magnificent schemes of personal aggrandizement from its dissolution, the probability would be, that we should run into the project of conferring supplementary powers upon Congress, as they are now constituted; and either the machine, from the intrinsic feebleness of its structure, will moulder into pieces, in spite of our illjudged efforts to prop it; or, by successive augmentations of its force an energy, as necessity might prompt, we shall finally accumulate, in a single body, all the most important prerogatives of sovereignty, and thus entail upon our posterity one of the most execrable forms of government that human infatuation ever contrived. Thus, we should create in reality that very tyranny which the adversaries of the new Constitution either are, or affect to be, solicitous to avert. It has not a little contributed to the infirmities of the existing federal system, that it never had a ratification by the PEOPLE. Resting on no better foundation than the consent of the several legislatures, it has been exposed to frequent and intricate questions concerning the validity of its powers, and has, in some instances, given birth to the enormous doctrine of a right of legislative repeal. Owing its ratification to the law of a State, it has been contended that the same authority might repeal the law by which it was ratified. However gross a heresy it may be to maintain that a PARTY to a COMPACT has a right to revoke that COMPACT, the doctrine itself has had respectable advocates. The possibility of a question of this nature proves the necessity of laying the foundations of our national government deeper than in the mere sanction of delegated authority. The fabric of American empire ought to rest on the solid basis of THE CONSENT OF THE PEOPLE. The streams of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure, original fountain of all legitimate authority. PUBLIUS. 1 This, as nearly as I can recollect, was the sense of his speech on introducing the last bill. 2 Encyclopedia, article Empire. 3 New Hampshire, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Delaware, Georgia, South Carolina, and Maryland are a majority of the whole number of the States, but they do not contain one third of the people. 4 Add New York and Connecticut to the foregoing seven, and they will be less than a majority. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXIII. The Necessity of a Government as Energetic as the One Proposed to the Preservation of the Union From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 18, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The necessity of a Constitution, at least equally energetic with the one proposed, to the preservation of the Union, is the point at the examination of which we are now arrived. This inquiry will naturally divide itself into three branches the objects to be provided for by the federal government, the quantity of power necessary to the accomplishment of those objects, the persons upon whom that power ought to operate. Its distribution and organization will more properly claim our attention under the succeeding head. The principal purposes to be answered by union are these the common defense of the members; the preservation of the public peace as well against internal convulsions as external attacks; the regulation of commerce with other nations and between the States; the superintendence of our intercourse, political and commercial, with foreign countries. The authorities essential to the common defense are these: to raise armies; to build and equip fleets; to prescribe rules for the government of both; to direct their operations; to provide for their support. These powers ought to exist without limitation, BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FORESEE OR DEFINE THE EXTENT AND VARIETY OF NATIONAL EXIGENCIES, OR THE CORRESPONDENT EXTENT AND VARIETY OF THE MEANS WHICH MAY BE NECESSARY TO SATISFY THEM. The circumstances that endanger the safety of nations are infinite, and for this reason no constitutional shackles can wisely be imposed on the power to which the care of it is committed. This power ought to be coextensive with all the possible combinations of such circumstances; and ought to be under the direction of the same councils which are appointed to preside over the common defense. This is one of those truths which, to a correct and unprejudiced mind, carries its own evidence along with it; and may be obscured, but cannot be made plainer by argument or reasoning. It rests upon axioms as simple as they are universal; the MEANS ought to be proportioned to the END; the persons, from whose agency the attainment of any END is expected, ought to possess the MEANS by which it is to be attained. Whether there ought to be a federal government intrusted with the care of the common defense, is a question in the first instance, open for discussion; but the moment it is decided in the affirmative, it will follow, that that government ought to be clothed with all the powers requisite to complete execution of its trust. And unless it can be shown that the circumstances which may affect the public safety are reducible within certain determinate limits; unless the contrary of this position can be fairly and rationally disputed, it must be admitted, as a necessary consequence, that there can be no limitation of that authority which is to provide for the defense and protection of the community, in any matter essential to its efficacy that is, in any matter essential to the FORMATION, DIRECTION, or SUPPORT of the NATIONAL FORCES. Defective as the present Confederation has been proved to be, this principle appears to have been fully recognized by the framers of it; though they have not made proper or adequate provision for its exercise. Congress have an unlimited discretion to make requisitions of men and money; to govern the army and navy; to direct their operations. As their requisitions are made constitutionally binding upon the States, who are in fact under the most solemn obligations to furnish the supplies required of them, the intention evidently was that the United States should command whatever resources were by them judged requisite to the common defense and general welfare. It was presumed that a sense of their true interests, and a regard to the dictates of good faith, would be found sufficient pledges for the punctual performance of the duty of the members to the federal head. The experiment has, however, demonstrated that this expectation was illfounded and illusory; and the observations, made under the last head, will, I imagine, have sufficed to convince the impartial and discerning, that there is an absolute necessity for an entire change in the first principles of the system; that if we are in earnest about giving the Union energy and duration, we must abandon the vain project of legislating upon the States in their collective capacities; we must extend the laws of the federal government to the individual citizens of America; we must discard the fallacious scheme of quotas and requisitions, as equally impracticable and unjust. The result from all this is that the Union ought to be invested with full power to levy troops; to build and equip fleets; and to raise the revenues which will be required for the formation and support of an army and navy, in the customary and ordinary modes practiced in other governments. If the circumstances of our country are such as to demand a compound instead of a simple, a confederate instead of a sole, government, the essential point which will remain to be adjusted will be to discriminate the OBJECTS, as far as it can be done, which shall appertain to the different provinces or departments of power; allowing to each the most ample authority for fulfilling the objects committed to its charge. Shall the Union be constituted the guardian of the common safety? Are fleets and armies and revenues necessary to this purpose? The government of the Union must be empowered to pass all laws, and to make all regulations which have relation to them. The same must be the case in respect to commerce, and to every other matter to which its jurisdiction is permitted to extend. Is the administration of justice between the citizens of the same State the proper department of the local governments? These must possess all the authorities which are connected with this object, and with every other that may be allotted to their particular cognizance and direction. Not to confer in each case a degree of power commensurate to the end, would be to violate the most obvious rules of prudence and propriety, and improvidently to trust the great interests of the nation to hands which are disabled from managing them with vigor and success. Who is likely to make suitable provisions for the public defense, as that body to which the guardianship of the public safety is confided; which, as the centre of information, will best understand the extent and urgency of the dangers that threaten; as the representative of the WHOLE, will feel itself most deeply interested in the preservation of every part; which, from the responsibility implied in the duty assigned to it, will be most sensibly impressed with the necessity of proper exertions; and which, by the extension of its authority throughout the States, can alone establish uniformity and concert in the plans and measures by which the common safety is to be secured? Is there not a manifest inconsistency in devolving upon the federal government the care of the general defense, and leaving in the State governments the EFFECTIVE powers by which it is to be provided for? Is not a want of cooperation the infallible consequence of such a system? And will not weakness, disorder, an undue distribution of the burdens and calamities of war, an unnecessary and intolerable increase of expense, be its natural and inevitable concomitants? Have we not had unequivocal experience of its effects in the course of the revolution which we have just accomplished? Every view we may take of the subject, as candid inquirers after truth, will serve to convince us, that it is both unwise and dangerous to deny the federal government an unconfined authority, as to all those objects which are intrusted to its management. It will indeed deserve the most vigilant and careful attention of the people, to see that it be modeled in such a manner as to admit of its being safely vested with the requisite powers. If any plan which has been, or may be, offered to our consideration, should not, upon a dispassionate inspection, be found to answer this description, it ought to be rejected. A government, the constitution of which renders it unfit to be trusted with all the powers which a free people OUGHT TO DELEGATE TO ANY GOVERNMENT, would be an unsafe and improper depositary of the NATIONAL INTERESTS. Wherever THESE can with propriety be confided, the coincident powers may safely accompany them. This is the true result of all just reasoning upon the subject. And the adversaries of the plan promulgated by the convention ought to have confined themselves to showing, that the internal structure of the proposed government was such as to render it unworthy of the confidence of the people. They ought not to have wandered into inflammatory declamations and unmeaning cavils about the extent of the powers. The POWERS are not too extensive for the OBJECTS of federal administration, or, in other words, for the management of our NATIONAL INTERESTS; nor can any satisfactory argument be framed to show that they are chargeable with such an excess. If it be true, as has been insinuated by some of the writers on the other side, that the difficulty arises from the nature of the thing, and that the extent of the country will not permit us to form a government in which such ample powers can safely be reposed, it would prove that we ought to contract our views, and resort to the expedient of separate confederacies, which will move within more practicable spheres. For the absurdity must continually stare us in the face of confiding to a government the direction of the most essential national interests, without daring to trust it to the authorities which are indispensible to their proper and efficient management. Let us not attempt to reconcile contradictions, but firmly embrace a rational alternative. I trust, however, that the impracticability of one general system cannot be shown. I am greatly mistaken, if any thing of weight has yet been advanced of this tendency; and I flatter myself, that the observations which have been made in the course of these papers have served to place the reverse of that position in as clear a light as any matter still in the womb of time and experience can be susceptible of. This, at all events, must be evident, that the very difficulty itself, drawn from the extent of the country, is the strongest argument in favor of an energetic government; for any other can certainly never preserve the Union of so large an empire. If we embrace the tenets of those who oppose the adoption of the proposed Constitution, as the standard of our political creed, we cannot fail to verify the gloomy doctrines which predict the impracticability of a national system pervading entire limits of the present Confederacy. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXIV. The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: To the powers proposed to be conferred upon the federal government, in respect to the creation and direction of the national forces, I have met with but one specific objection, which, if I understand it right, is this, that proper provision has not been made against the existence of standing armies in time of peace; an objection which, I shall now endeavor to show, rests on weak and unsubstantial foundations. It has indeed been brought forward in the most vague and general form, supported only by bold assertions, without the appearance of argument; without even the sanction of theoretical opinions; in contradiction to the practice of other free nations, and to the general sense of America, as expressed in most of the existing constitutions. The proprietory of this remark will appear, the moment it is recollected that the objection under consideration turns upon a supposed necessity of restraining the LEGISLATIVE authority of the nation, in the article of military establishments; a principle unheard of, except in one or two of our State constitutions, and rejected in all the rest. A stranger to our politics, who was to read our newspapers at the present juncture, without having previously inspected the plan reported by the convention, would be naturally led to one of two conclusions: either that it contained a positive injunction, that standing armies should be kept up in time of peace; or that it vested in the EXECUTIVE the whole power of levying troops, without subjecting his discretion, in any shape, to the control of the legislature. If he came afterwards to peruse the plan itself, he would be surprised to discover, that neither the one nor the other was the case; that the whole power of raising armies was lodged in the LEGISLATURE, not in the EXECUTIVE; that this legislature was to be a popular body, consisting of the representatives of the people periodically elected; and that instead of the provision he had supposed in favor of standing armies, there was to be found, in respect to this object, an important qualification even of the legislative discretion, in that clause which forbids the appropriation of money for the support of an army for any longer period than two years a precaution which, upon a nearer view of it, will appear to be a great and real security against the keeping up of troops without evident necessity. Disappointed in his first surmise, the person I have supposed would be apt to pursue his conjectures a little further. He would naturally say to himself, it is impossible that all this vehement and pathetic declamation can be without some colorable pretext. It must needs be that this people, so jealous of their liberties, have, in all the preceding models of the constitutions which they have established, inserted the most precise and rigid precautions on this point, the omission of which, in the new plan, has given birth to all this apprehension and clamor. If, under this impression, he proceeded to pass in review the several State constitutions, how great would be his disappointment to find that TWO only of them1 contained an interdiction of standing armies in time of peace; that the other eleven had either observed a profound silence on the subject, or had in express terms admitted the right of the Legislature to authorize their existence. Still, however he would be persuaded that there must be some plausible foundation for the cry raised on this head. He would never be able to imagine, while any source of information remained unexplored, that it was nothing more than an experiment upon the public credulity, dictated either by a deliberate intention to deceive, or by the overflowings of a zeal too intemperate to be ingenuous. It would probably occur to him, that he would be likely to find the precautions he was in search of in the primitive compact between the States. Here, at length, he would expect to meet with a solution of the enigma. No doubt, he would observe to himself, the existing Confederation must contain the most explicit provisions against military establishments in time of peace; and a departure from this model, in a favorite point, has occasioned the discontent which appears to influence these political champions. If he should now apply himself to a careful and critical survey of the articles of Confederation, his astonishment would not only be increased, but would acquire a mixture of indignation, at the unexpected discovery, that these articles, instead of containing the prohibition he looked for, and though they had, with jealous circumspection, restricted the authority of the State legislatures in this particular, had not imposed a single restraint on that of the United States. If he happened to be a man of quick sensibility, or ardent temper, he could now no longer refrain from regarding these clamors as the dishonest artifices of a sinister and unprincipled opposition to a plan which ought at least to receive a fair and candid examination from all sincere lovers of their country! How else, he would say, could the authors of them have been tempted to vent such loud censures upon that plan, about a point in which it seems to have conformed itself to the general sense of America as declared in its different forms of government, and in which it has even superadded a new and powerful guard unknown to any of them? If, on the contrary, he happened to be a man of calm and dispassionate feelings, he would indulge a sigh for the frailty of human nature, and would lament, that in a matter so interesting to the happiness of millions, the true merits of the question should be perplexed and entangled by expedients so unfriendly to an impartial and right determination. Even such a man could hardly forbear remarking, that a conduct of this kind has too much the appearance of an intention to mislead the people by alarming their passions, rather than to convince them by arguments addressed to their understandings. But however little this objection may be countenanced, even by precedents among ourselves, it may be satisfactory to take a nearer view of its intrinsic merits. From a close examination it will appear that restraints upon the discretion of the legislature in respect to military establishments in time of peace, would be improper to be imposed, and if imposed, from the necessities of society, would be unlikely to be observed. Though a wide ocean separates the United States from Europe, yet there are various considerations that warn us against an excess of confidence or security. On one side of us, and stretching far into our rear, are growing settlements subject to the dominion of Britain. On the other side, and extending to meet the British settlements, are colonies and establishments subject to the dominion of Spain. This situation and the vicinity of the West India Islands, belonging to these two powers create between them, in respect to their American possessions and in relation to us, a common interest. The savage tribes on our Western frontier ought to be regarded as our natural enemies, their natural allies, because they have most to fear from us, and most to hope from them. The improvements in the art of navigation have, as to the facility of communication, rendered distant nations, in a great measure, neighbors. Britain and Spain are among the principal maritime powers of Europe. A future concert of views between these nations ought not to be regarded as improbable. The increasing remoteness of consanguinity is every day diminishing the force of the family compact between France and Spain. And politicians have ever with great reason considered the ties of blood as feeble and precarious links of political connection. These circumstances combined, admonish us not to be too sanguine in considering ourselves as entirely out of the reach of danger. Previous to the Revolution, and ever since the peace, there has been a constant necessity for keeping small garrisons on our Western frontier. No person can doubt that these will continue to be indispensable, if it should only be against the ravages and depredations of the Indians. These garrisons must either be furnished by occasional detachments from the militia, or by permanent corps in the pay of the government. The first is impracticable; and if practicable, would be pernicious. The militia would not long, if at all, submit to be dragged from their occupations and families to perform that most disagreeable duty in times of profound peace. And if they could be prevailed upon or compelled to do it, the increased expense of a frequent rotation of service, and the loss of labor and disconcertion of the industrious pursuits of individuals, would form conclusive objections to the scheme. It would be as burdensome and injurious to the public as ruinous to private citizens. The latter resource of permanent corps in the pay of the government amounts to a standing army in time of peace; a small one, indeed, but not the less real for being small. Here is a simple view of the subject, that shows us at once the impropriety of a constitutional interdiction of such establishments, and the necessity of leaving the matter to the discretion and prudence of the legislature. In proportion to our increase in strength, it is probable, nay, it may be said certain, that Britain and Spain would augment their military establishments in our neighborhood. If we should not be willing to be exposed, in a naked and defenseless condition, to their insults and encroachments, we should find it expedient to increase our frontier garrisons in some ratio to the force by which our Western settlements might be annoyed. There are, and will be, particular posts, the possession of which will include the command of large districts of territory, and facilitate future invasions of the remainder. It may be added that some of those posts will be keys to the trade with the Indian nations. Can any man think it would be wise to leave such posts in a situation to be at any instant seized by one or the other of two neighboring and formidable powers? To act this part would be to desert all the usual maxims of prudence and policy. If we mean to be a commercial people, or even to be secure on our Atlantic side, we must endeavor, as soon as possible, to have a navy. To this purpose there must be dockyards and arsenals; and for the defense of these, fortifications, and probably garrisons. When a nation has become so powerful by sea that it can protect its dockyards by its fleets, this supersedes the necessity of garrisons for that purpose; but where naval establishments are in their infancy, moderate garrisons will, in all likelihood, be found an indispensable security against descents for the destruction of the arsenals and dockyards, and sometimes of the fleet itself. PUBLIUS. 1 This statement of the matter is taken from the printed collection of State constitutions. Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the two which contain the interdiction in these words: As standing armies in time of peace are dangerous to liberty, THEY OUGHT NOT to be kept up. This is, in truth, rather a CAUTION than a PROHIBITION. New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Delaware, and Maryland have, in each of their bils of rights, a clause to this effect: Standing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be raised or kept up WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE; which is a formal admission of the authority of the Legislature. New York has no bills of rights, and her constitution says not a word about the matter. No bills of rights appear annexed to the constitutions of the other States, except the foregoing, and their constitutions are equally silent. I am told, however that one or two States have bills of rights which do not appear in this collection; but that those also recognize the right of the legislative authority in this respect. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXV. The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered) From the New York Packet. Friday, December 21, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It may perhaps be urged that the objects enumerated in the preceding number ought to be provided for by the State governments, under the direction of the Union. But this would be, in reality, an inversion of the primary principle of our political association, as it would in practice transfer the care of the common defense from the federal head to the individual members: a project oppressive to some States, dangerous to all, and baneful to the Confederacy. The territories of Britain, Spain, and of the Indian nations in our neighborhood do not border on particular States, but encircle the Union from Maine to Georgia. The danger, though in different degrees, is therefore common. And the means of guarding against it ought, in like manner, to be the objects of common councils and of a common treasury. It happens that some States, from local situation, are more directly exposed. New York is of this class. Upon the plan of separate provisions, New York would have to sustain the whole weight of the establishments requisite to her immediate safety, and to the mediate or ultimate protection of her neighbors. This would neither be equitable as it respected New York nor safe as it respected the other States. Various inconveniences would attend such a system. The States, to whose lot it might fall to support the necessary establishments, would be as little able as willing, for a considerable time to come, to bear the burden of competent provisions. The security of all would thus be subjected to the parsimony, improvidence, or inability of a part. If the resources of such part becoming more abundant and extensive, its provisions should be proportionally enlarged, the other States would quickly take the alarm at seeing the whole military force of the Union in the hands of two or three of its members, and those probably amongst the most powerful. They would each choose to have some counterpoise, and pretenses could easily be contrived. In this situation, military establishments, nourished by mutual jealousy, would be apt to swell beyond their natural or proper size; and being at the separate disposal of the members, they would be engines for the abridgment or demolition of the national authority. Reasons have been already given to induce a supposition that the State governments will too naturally be prone to a rivalship with that of the Union, the foundation of which will be the love of power; and that in any contest between the federal head and one of its members the people will be most apt to unite with their local government. If, in addition to this immense advantage, the ambition of the members should be stimulated by the separate and independent possession of military forces, it would afford too strong a temptation and too great a facility to them to make enterprises upon, and finally to subvert, the constitutional authority of the Union. On the other hand, the liberty of the people would be less safe in this state of things than in that which left the national forces in the hands of the national government. As far as an army may be considered as a dangerous weapon of power, it had better be in those hands of which the people are most likely to be jealous than in those of which they are least likely to be jealous. For it is a truth, which the experience of ages has attested, that the people are always most in danger when the means of injuring their rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the least suspicion. The framers of the existing Confederation, fully aware of the danger to the Union from the separate possession of military forces by the States, have, in express terms, prohibited them from having either ships or troops, unless with the consent of Congress. The truth is, that the existence of a federal government and military establishments under State authority are not less at variance with each other than a due supply of the federal treasury and the system of quotas and requisitions. There are other lights besides those already taken notice of, in which the impropriety of restraints on the discretion of the national legislature will be equally manifest. The design of the objection, which has been mentioned, is to preclude standing armies in time of peace, though we have never been informed how far it is designed the prohibition should extend; whether to raising armies as well as to KEEPING THEM UP in a season of tranquillity or not. If it be confined to the latter it will have no precise signification, and it will be ineffectual for the purpose intended. When armies are once raised what shall be denominated keeping them up, contrary to the sense of the Constitution? What time shall be requisite to ascertain the violation? Shall it be a week, a month, a year? Or shall we say they may be continued as long as the danger which occasioned their being raised continues? This would be to admit that they might be kept up IN TIME OF PEACE, against threatening or impending danger, which would be at once to deviate from the literal meaning of the prohibition, and to introduce an extensive latitude of construction. Who shall judge of the continuance of the danger? This must undoubtedly be submitted to the national government, and the matter would then be brought to this issue, that the national government, to provide against apprehended danger, might in the first instance raise troops, and might afterwards keep them on foot as long as they supposed the peace or safety of the community was in any degree of jeopardy. It is easy to perceive that a discretion so latitudinary as this would afford ample room for eluding the force of the provision. The supposed utility of a provision of this kind can only be founded on the supposed probability, or at least possibility, of a combination between the executive and the legislative, in some scheme of usurpation. Should this at any time happen, how easy would it be to fabricate pretenses of approaching danger! Indian hostilities, instigated by Spain or Britain, would always be at hand. Provocations to produce the desired appearances might even be given to some foreign power, and appeased again by timely concessions. If we can reasonably presume such a combination to have been formed, and that the enterprise is warranted by a sufficient prospect of success, the army, when once raised, from whatever cause, or on whatever pretext, may be applied to the execution of the project. If, to obviate this consequence, it should be resolved to extend the prohibition to the RAISING of armies in time of peace, the United States would then exhibit the most extraordinary spectacle which the world has yet seen, that of a nation incapacitated by its Constitution to prepare for defense, before it was actually invaded. As the ceremony of a formal denunciation of war has of late fallen into disuse, the presence of an enemy within our territories must be waited for, as the legal warrant to the government to begin its levies of men for the protection of the State. We must receive the blow, before we could even prepare to return it. All that kind of policy by which nations anticipate distant danger, and meet the gathering storm, must be abstained from, as contrary to the genuine maxims of a free government. We must expose our property and liberty to the mercy of foreign invaders, and invite them by our weakness to seize the naked and defenseless prey, because we are afraid that rulers, created by our choice, dependent on our will, might endanger that liberty, by an abuse of the means necessary to its preservation. Here I expect we shall be told that the militia of the country is its natural bulwark, and would be at all times equal to the national defense. This doctrine, in substance, had like to have lost us our independence. It cost millions to the United States that might have been saved. The facts which, from our own experience, forbid a reliance of this kind, are too recent to permit us to be the dupes of such a suggestion. The steady operations of war against a regular and disciplined army can only be successfully conducted by a force of the same kind. Considerations of economy, not less than of stability and vigor, confirm this position. The American militia, in the course of the late war, have, by their valor on numerous occasions, erected eternal monuments to their fame; but the bravest of them feel and know that the liberty of their country could not have been established by their efforts alone, however great and valuable they were. War, like most other things, is a science to be acquired and perfected by diligence, by perserverance, by time, and by practice. All violent policy, as it is contrary to the natural and experienced course of human affairs, defeats itself. Pennsylvania, at this instant, affords an example of the truth of this remark. The Bill of Rights of that State declares that standing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be kept up in time of peace. Pennsylvania, nevertheless, in a time of profound peace, from the existence of partial disorders in one or two of her counties, has resolved to raise a body of troops; and in all probability will keep them up as long as there is any appearance of danger to the public peace. The conduct of Massachusetts affords a lesson on the same subject, though on different ground. That State (without waiting for the sanction of Congress, as the articles of the Confederation require) was compelled to raise troops to quell a domestic insurrection, and still keeps a corps in pay to prevent a revival of the spirit of revolt. The particular constitution of Massachusetts opposed no obstacle to the measure; but the instance is still of use to instruct us that cases are likely to occur under our government, as well as under those of other nations, which will sometimes render a military force in time of peace essential to the security of the society, and that it is therefore improper in this respect to control the legislative discretion. It also teaches us, in its application to the United States, how little the rights of a feeble government are likely to be respected, even by its own constituents. And it teaches us, in addition to the rest, how unequal parchment provisions are to a struggle with public necessity. It was a fundamental maxim of the Lacedaemonian commonwealth, that the post of admiral should not be conferred twice on the same person. The Peloponnesian confederates, having suffered a severe defeat at sea from the Athenians, demanded Lysander, who had before served with success in that capacity, to command the combined fleets. The Lacedaemonians, to gratify their allies, and yet preserve the semblance of an adherence to their ancient institutions, had recourse to the flimsy subterfuge of investing Lysander with the real power of admiral, under the nominal title of viceadmiral. This instance is selected from among a multitude that might be cited to confirm the truth already advanced and illustrated by domestic examples; which is, that nations pay little regard to rules and maxims calculated in their very nature to run counter to the necessities of society. Wise politicians will be cautious about fettering the government with restrictions that cannot be observed, because they know that every breach of the fundamental laws, though dictated by necessity, impairs that sacred reverence which ought to be maintained in the breast of rulers towards the constitution of a country, and forms a precedent for other breaches where the same plea of necessity does not exist at all, or is less urgent and palpable. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXVI. The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It was a thing hardly to be expected that in a popular revolution the minds of men should stop at that happy mean which marks the salutary boundary between POWER and PRIVILEGE, and combines the energy of government with the security of private rights. A failure in this delicate and important point is the great source of the inconveniences we experience, and if we are not cautious to avoid a repetition of the error, in our future attempts to rectify and ameliorate our system, we may travel from one chimerical project to another; we may try change after change; but we shall never be likely to make any material change for the better. The idea of restraining the legislative authority, in the means of providing for the national defense, is one of those refinements which owe their origin to a zeal for liberty more ardent than enlightened. We have seen, however, that it has not had thus far an extensive prevalency; that even in this country, where it made its first appearance, Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the only two States by which it has been in any degree patronized; and that all the others have refused to give it the least countenance; wisely judging that confidence must be placed somewhere; that the necessity of doing it, is implied in the very act of delegating power; and that it is better to hazard the abuse of that confidence than to embarrass the government and endanger the public safety by impolitic restrictions on the legislative authority. The opponents of the proposed Constitution combat, in this respect, the general decision of America; and instead of being taught by experience the propriety of correcting any extremes into which we may have heretofore run, they appear disposed to conduct us into others still more dangerous, and more extravagant. As if the tone of government had been found too high, or too rigid, the doctrines they teach are calculated to induce us to depress or to relax it, by expedients which, upon other occasions, have been condemned or forborne. It may be affirmed without the imputation of invective, that if the principles they inculcate, on various points, could so far obtain as to become the popular creed, they would utterly unfit the people of this country for any species of government whatever. But a danger of this kind is not to be apprehended. The citizens of America have too much discernment to be argued into anarchy. And I am much mistaken, if experience has not wrought a deep and solemn conviction in the public mind, that greater energy of government is essential to the welfare and prosperity of the community. It may not be amiss in this place concisely to remark the origin and progress of the idea, which aims at the exclusion of military establishments in time of peace. Though in speculative minds it may arise from a contemplation of the nature and tendency of such institutions, fortified by the events that have happened in other ages and countries, yet as a national sentiment, it must be traced to those habits of thinking which we derive from the nation from whom the inhabitants of these States have in general sprung. In England, for a long time after the Norman Conquest, the authority of the monarch was almost unlimited. Inroads were gradually made upon the prerogative, in favor of liberty, first by the barons, and afterwards by the people, till the greatest part of its most formidable pretensions became extinct. But it was not till the revolution in 1688, which elevated the Prince of Orange to the throne of Great Britain, that English liberty was completely triumphant. As incident to the undefined power of making war, an acknowledged prerogative of the crown, Charles II. had, by his own authority, kept on foot in time of peace a body of 5,000 regular troops. And this number James II. increased to 30,000; who were paid out of his civil list. At the revolution, to abolish the exercise of so dangerous an authority, it became an article of the Bill of Rights then framed, that the raising or keeping a standing army within the kingdom in time of peace, UNLESS WITH THE CONSENT OF PARLIAMENT, was against law. In that kingdom, when the pulse of liberty was at its highest pitch, no security against the danger of standing armies was thought requisite, beyond a prohibition of their being raised or kept up by the mere authority of the executive magistrate. The patriots, who effected that memorable revolution, were too temperate, too wellinformed, to think of any restraint on the legislative discretion. They were aware that a certain number of troops for guards and garrisons were indispensable; that no precise bounds could be set to the national exigencies; that a power equal to every possible contingency must exist somewhere in the government: and that when they referred the exercise of that power to the judgment of the legislature, they had arrived at the ultimate point of precaution which was reconcilable with the safety of the community. From the same source, the people of America may be said to have derived an hereditary impression of danger to liberty, from standing armies in time of peace. The circumstances of a revolution quickened the public sensibility on every point connected with the security of popular rights, and in some instances raise the warmth of our zeal beyond the degree which consisted with the due temperature of the body politic. The attempts of two of the States to restrict the authority of the legislature in the article of military establishments, are of the number of these instances. The principles which had taught us to be jealous of the power of an hereditary monarch were by an injudicious excess extended to the representatives of the people in their popular assemblies. Even in some of the States, where this error was not adopted, we find unnecessary declarations that standing armies ought not to be kept up, in time of peace, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE. I call them unnecessary, because the reason which had introduced a similar provision into the English Bill of Rights is not applicable to any of the State constitutions. The power of raising armies at all, under those constitutions, can by no construction be deemed to reside anywhere else, than in the legislatures themselves; and it was superfluous, if not absurd, to declare that a matter should not be done without the consent of a body, which alone had the power of doing it. Accordingly, in some of these constitutions, and among others, in that of this State of New York, which has been justly celebrated, both in Europe and America, as one of the best of the forms of government established in this country, there is a total silence upon the subject. It is remarkable, that even in the two States which seem to have meditated an interdiction of military establishments in time of peace, the mode of expression made use of is rather cautionary than prohibitory. It is not said, that standing armies SHALL NOT BE kept up, but that they OUGHT NOT to be kept up, in time of peace. This ambiguity of terms appears to have been the result of a conflict between jealousy and conviction; between the desire of excluding such establishments at all events, and the persuasion that an absolute exclusion would be unwise and unsafe. Can it be doubted that such a provision, whenever the situation of public affairs was understood to require a departure from it, would be interpreted by the legislature into a mere admonition, and would be made to yield to the necessities or supposed necessities of the State? Let the fact already mentioned, with respect to Pennsylvania, decide. What then (it may be asked) is the use of such a provision, if it cease to operate the moment there is an inclination to disregard it? Let us examine whether there be any comparison, in point of efficacy, between the provision alluded to and that which is contained in the new Constitution, for restraining the appropriations of money for military purposes to the period of two years. The former, by aiming at too much, is calculated to effect nothing; the latter, by steering clear of an imprudent extreme, and by being perfectly compatible with a proper provision for the exigencies of the nation, will have a salutary and powerful operation. The legislature of the United States will be OBLIGED, by this provision, once at least in every two years, to deliberate upon the propriety of keeping a military force on foot; to come to a new resolution on the point; and to declare their sense of the matter, by a formal vote in the face of their constituents. They are not AT LIBERTY to vest in the executive department permanent funds for the support of an army, if they were even incautious enough to be willing to repose in it so improper a confidence. As the spirit of party, in different degrees, must be expected to infect all political bodies, there will be, no doubt, persons in the national legislature willing enough to arraign the measures and criminate the views of the majority. The provision for the support of a military force will always be a favorable topic for declamation. As often as the question comes forward, the public attention will be roused and attracted to the subject, by the party in opposition; and if the majority should be really disposed to exceed the proper limits, the community will be warned of the danger, and will have an opportunity of taking measures to guard against it. Independent of parties in the national legislature itself, as often as the period of discussion arrived, the State legislatures, who will always be not only vigilant but suspicious and jealous guardians of the rights of the citizens against encroachments from the federal government, will constantly have their attention awake to the conduct of the national rulers, and will be ready enough, if any thing improper appears, to sound the alarm to the people, and not only to be the VOICE, but, if necessary, the ARM of their discontent. Schemes to subvert the liberties of a great community REQUIRE TIME to mature them for execution. An army, so large as seriously to menace those liberties, could only be formed by progressive augmentations; which would suppose, not merely a temporary combination between the legislature and executive, but a continued conspiracy for a series of time. Is it probable that such a combination would exist at all? Is it probable that it would be persevered in, and transmitted along through all the successive variations in a representative body, which biennial elections would naturally produce in both houses? Is it presumable, that every man, the instant he took his seat in the national Senate or House of Representatives, would commence a traitor to his constituents and to his country? Can it be supposed that there would not be found one man, discerning enough to detect so atrocious a conspiracy, or bold or honest enough to apprise his constituents of their danger? If such presumptions can fairly be made, there ought at once to be an end of all delegated authority. The people should resolve to recall all the powers they have heretofore parted with out of their own hands, and to divide themselves into as many States as there are counties, in order that they may be able to manage their own concerns in person. If such suppositions could even be reasonably made, still the concealment of the design, for any duration, would be impracticable. It would be announced, by the very circumstance of augmenting the army to so great an extent in time of profound peace. What colorable reason could be assigned, in a country so situated, for such vast augmentations of the military force? It is impossible that the people could be long deceived; and the destruction of the project, and of the projectors, would quickly follow the discovery. It has been said that the provision which limits the appropriation of money for the support of an army to the period of two years would be unavailing, because the Executive, when once possessed of a force large enough to awe the people into submission, would find resources in that very force sufficient to enable him to dispense with supplies from the acts of the legislature. But the question again recurs, upon what pretense could he be put in possession of a force of that magnitude in time of peace? If we suppose it to have been created in consequence of some domestic insurrection or foreign war, then it becomes a case not within the principles of the objection; for this is levelled against the power of keeping up troops in time of peace. Few persons will be so visionary as seriously to contend that military forces ought not to be raised to quell a rebellion or resist an invasion; and if the defense of the community under such circumstances should make it necessary to have an army so numerous as to hazard its liberty, this is one of those calamaties for which there is neither preventative nor cure. It cannot be provided against by any possible form of government; it might even result from a simple league offensive and defensive, if it should ever be necessary for the confederates or allies to form an army for common defense. But it is an evil infinitely less likely to attend us in a united than in a disunited state; nay, it may be safely asserted that it is an evil altogether unlikely to attend us in the latter situation. It is not easy to conceive a possibility that dangers so formidable can assail the whole Union, as to demand a force considerable enough to place our liberties in the least jeopardy, especially if we take into our view the aid to be derived from the militia, which ought always to be counted upon as a valuable and powerful auxiliary. But in a state of disunion (as has been fully shown in another place), the contrary of this supposition would become not only probable, but almost unavoidable. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXVII. The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 25, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It has been urged, in different shapes, that a Constitution of the kind proposed by the convention cannot operate without the aid of a military force to execute its laws. This, however, like most other things that have been alleged on that side, rests on mere general assertion, unsupported by any precise or intelligible designation of the reasons upon which it is founded. As far as I have been able to divine the latent meaning of the objectors, it seems to originate in a presupposition that the people will be disinclined to the exercise of federal authority in any matter of an internal nature. Waiving any exception that might be taken to the inaccuracy or inexplicitness of the distinction between internal and external, let us inquire what ground there is to presuppose that disinclination in the people. Unless we presume at the same time that the powers of the general government will be worse administered than those of the State government, there seems to be no room for the presumption of illwill, disaffection, or opposition in the people. I believe it may be laid down as a general rule that their confidence in and obedience to a government will commonly be proportioned to the goodness or badness of its administration. It must be admitted that there are exceptions to this rule; but these exceptions depend so entirely on accidental causes, that they cannot be considered as having any relation to the intrinsic merits or demerits of a constitution. These can only be judged of by general principles and maxims. Various reasons have been suggested, in the course of these papers, to induce a probability that the general government will be better administered than the particular governments; the principal of which reasons are that the extension of the spheres of election will present a greater option, or latitude of choice, to the people; that through the medium of the State legislatures which are select bodies of men, and which are to appoint the members of the national Senate there is reason to expect that this branch will generally be composed with peculiar care and judgment; that these circumstances promise greater knowledge and more extensive information in the national councils, and that they will be less apt to be tainted by the spirit of faction, and more out of the reach of those occasional illhumors, or temporary prejudices and propensities, which, in smaller societies, frequently contaminate the public councils, beget injustice and oppression of a part of the community, and engender schemes which, though they gratify a momentary inclination or desire, terminate in general distress, dissatisfaction, and disgust. Several additional reasons of considerable force, to fortify that probability, will occur when we come to survey, with a more critical eye, the interior structure of the edifice which we are invited to erect. It will be sufficient here to remark, that until satisfactory reasons can be assigned to justify an opinion, that the federal government is likely to be administered in such a manner as to render it odious or contemptible to the people, there can be no reasonable foundation for the supposition that the laws of the Union will meet with any greater obstruction from them, or will stand in need of any other methods to enforce their execution, than the laws of the particular members. The hope of impunity is a strong incitement to sedition; the dread of punishment, a proportionably strong discouragement to it. Will not the government of the Union, which, if possessed of a due degree of power, can call to its aid the collective resources of the whole Confederacy, be more likely to repress the FORMER sentiment and to inspire the LATTER, than that of a single State, which can only command the resources within itself? A turbulent faction in a State may easily suppose itself able to contend with the friends to the government in that State; but it can hardly be so infatuated as to imagine itself a match for the combined efforts of the Union. If this reflection be just, there is less danger of resistance from irregular combinations of individuals to the authority of the Confederacy than to that of a single member. I will, in this place, hazard an observation, which will not be the less just because to some it may appear new; which is, that the more the operations of the national authority are intermingled in the ordinary exercise of government, the more the citizens are accustomed to meet with it in the common occurrences of their political life, the more it is familiarized to their sight and to their feelings, the further it enters into those objects which touch the most sensible chords and put in motion the most active springs of the human heart, the greater will be the probability that it will conciliate the respect and attachment of the community. Man is very much a creature of habit. A thing that rarely strikes his senses will generally have but little influence upon his mind. A government continually at a distance and out of sight can hardly be expected to interest the sensations of the people. The inference is, that the authority of the Union, and the affections of the citizens towards it, will be strengthened, rather than weakened, by its extension to what are called matters of internal concern; and will have less occasion to recur to force, in proportion to the familiarity and comprehensiveness of its agency. The more it circulates through those channels and currents in which the passions of mankind naturally flow, the less will it require the aid of the violent and perilous expedients of compulsion. One thing, at all events, must be evident, that a government like the one proposed would bid much fairer to avoid the necessity of using force, than that species of league contend for by most of its opponents; the authority of which should only operate upon the States in their political or collective capacities. It has been shown that in such a Confederacy there can be no sanction for the laws but force; that frequent delinquencies in the members are the natural offspring of the very frame of the government; and that as often as these happen, they can only be redressed, if at all, by war and violence. The plan reported by the convention, by extending the authority of the federal head to the individual citizens of the several States, will enable the government to employ the ordinary magistracy of each, in the execution of its laws. It is easy to perceive that this will tend to destroy, in the common apprehension, all distinction between the sources from which they might proceed; and will give the federal government the same advantage for securing a due obedience to its authority which is enjoyed by the government of each State, in addition to the influence on public opinion which will result from the important consideration of its having power to call to its assistance and support the resources of the whole Union. It merits particular attention in this place, that the laws of the Confederacy, as to the ENUMERATED and LEGITIMATE objects of its jurisdiction, will become the SUPREME LAW of the land; to the observance of which all officers, legislative, executive, and judicial, in each State, will be bound by the sanctity of an oath. Thus the legislatures, courts, and magistrates, of the respective members, will be incorporated into the operations of the national government AS FAR AS ITS JUST AND CONSTITUTIONAL AUTHORITY EXTENDS; and will be rendered auxiliary to the enforcement of its laws.1 Any man who will pursue, by his own reflections, the consequences of this situation, will perceive that there is good ground to calculate upon a regular and peaceable execution of the laws of the Union, if its powers are administered with a common share of prudence. If we will arbitrarily suppose the contrary, we may deduce any inferences we please from the supposition; for it is certainly possible, by an injudicious exercise of the authorities of the best government that ever was, or ever can be instituted, to provoke and precipitate the people into the wildest excesses. But though the adversaries of the proposed Constitution should presume that the national rulers would be insensible to the motives of public good, or to the obligations of duty, I would still ask them how the interests of ambition, or the views of encroachment, can be promoted by such a conduct? PUBLIUS. 1 The sophistry which has been employed to show that this will tend to the destruction of the State governments, will, in its will, in its proper place, be fully detected. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXVIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: That there may happen cases in which the national government may be necessitated to resort to force, cannot be denied. Our own experience has corroborated the lessons taught by the examples of other nations; that emergencies of this sort will sometimes arise in all societies, however constituted; that seditions and insurrections are, unhappily, maladies as inseparable from the body politic as tumors and eruptions from the natural body; that the idea of governing at all times by the simple force of law (which we have been told is the only admissible principle of republican government), has no place but in the reveries of those political doctors whose sagacity disdains the admonitions of experimental instruction. Should such emergencies at any time happen under the national government, there could be no remedy but force. The means to be employed must be proportioned to the extent of the mischief. If it should be a slight commotion in a small part of a State, the militia of the residue would be adequate to its suppression; and the national presumption is that they would be ready to do their duty. An insurrection, whatever may be its immediate cause, eventually endangers all government. Regard to the public peace, if not to the rights of the Union, would engage the citizens to whom the contagion had not communicated itself to oppose the insurgents; and if the general government should be found in practice conducive to the prosperity and felicity of the people, it were irrational to believe that they would be disinclined to its support. If, on the contrary, the insurrection should pervade a whole State, or a principal part of it, the employment of a different kind of force might become unavoidable. It appears that Massachusetts found it necessary to raise troops for repressing the disorders within that State; that Pennsylvania, from the mere apprehension of commotions among a part of her citizens, has thought proper to have recourse to the same measure. Suppose the State of New York had been inclined to reestablish her lost jurisdiction over the inhabitants of Vermont, could she have hoped for success in such an enterprise from the efforts of the militia alone? Would she not have been compelled to raise and to maintain a more regular force for the execution of her design? If it must then be admitted that the necessity of recurring to a force different from the militia, in cases of this extraordinary nature, is applicable to the State governments themselves, why should the possibility, that the national government might be under a like necessity, in similar extremities, be made an objection to its existence? Is it not surprising that men who declare an attachment to the Union in the abstract, should urge as an objection to the proposed Constitution what applies with tenfold weight to the plan for which they contend; and what, as far as it has any foundation in truth, is an inevitable consequence of civil society upon an enlarged scale? Who would not prefer that possibility to the unceasing agitations and frequent revolutions which are the continual scourges of petty republics? Let us pursue this examination in another light. Suppose, in lieu of one general system, two, or three, or even four Confederacies were to be formed, would not the same difficulty oppose itself to the operations of either of these Confederacies? Would not each of them be exposed to the same casualties; and when these happened, be obliged to have recourse to the same expedients for upholding its authority which are objected to in a government for all the States? Would the militia, in this supposition, be more ready or more able to support the federal authority than in the case of a general union? All candid and intelligent men must, upon due consideration, acknowledge that the principle of the objection is equally applicable to either of the two cases; and that whether we have one government for all the States, or different governments for different parcels of them, or even if there should be an entire separation of the States, there might sometimes be a necessity to make use of a force constituted differently from the militia, to preserve the peace of the community and to maintain the just authority of the laws against those violent invasions of them which amount to insurrections and rebellions. Independent of all other reasonings upon the subject, it is a full answer to those who require a more peremptory provision against military establishments in time of peace, to say that the whole power of the proposed government is to be in the hands of the representatives of the people. This is the essential, and, after all, only efficacious security for the rights and privileges of the people, which is attainable in civil society.1 If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, there is then no resource left but in the exertion of that original right of selfdefense which is paramount to all positive forms of government, and which against the usurpations of the national rulers, may be exerted with infinitely better prospect of success than against those of the rulers of an individual state. In a single state, if the persons intrusted with supreme power become usurpers, the different parcels, subdivisions, or districts of which it consists, having no distinct government in each, can take no regular measures for defense. The citizens must rush tumultuously to arms, without concert, without system, without resource; except in their courage and despair. The usurpers, clothed with the forms of legal authority, can too often crush the opposition in embryo. The smaller the extent of the territory, the more difficult will it be for the people to form a regular or systematic plan of opposition, and the more easy will it be to defeat their early efforts. Intelligence can be more speedily obtained of their preparations and movements, and the military force in the possession of the usurpers can be more rapidly directed against the part where the opposition has begun. In this situation there must be a peculiar coincidence of circumstances to insure success to the popular resistance. The obstacles to usurpation and the facilities of resistance increase with the increased extent of the state, provided the citizens understand their rights and are disposed to defend them. The natural strength of the people in a large community, in proportion to the artificial strength of the government, is greater than in a small, and of course more competent to a struggle with the attempts of the government to establish a tyranny. But in a confederacy the people, without exaggeration, may be said to be entirely the masters of their own fate. Power being almost always the rival of power, the general government will at all times stand ready to check the usurpations of the state governments, and these will have the same disposition towards the general government. The people, by throwing themselves into either scale, will infallibly make it preponderate. If their rights are invaded by either, they can make use of the other as the instrument of redress. How wise will it be in them by cherishing the union to preserve to themselves an advantage which can never be too highly prized! It may safely be received as an axiom in our political system, that the State governments will, in all possible contingencies, afford complete security against invasions of the public liberty by the national authority. Projects of usurpation cannot be masked under pretenses so likely to escape the penetration of select bodies of men, as of the people at large. The legislatures will have better means of information. They can discover the danger at a distance; and possessing all the organs of civil power, and the confidence of the people, they can at once adopt a regular plan of opposition, in which they can combine all the resources of the community. They can readily communicate with each other in the different States, and unite their common forces for the protection of their common liberty. The great extent of the country is a further security. We have already experienced its utility against the attacks of a foreign power. And it would have precisely the same effect against the enterprises of ambitious rulers in the national councils. If the federal army should be able to quell the resistance of one State, the distant States would have it in their power to make head with fresh forces. The advantages obtained in one place must be abandoned to subdue the opposition in others; and the moment the part which had been reduced to submission was left to itself, its efforts would be renewed, and its resistance revive. We should recollect that the extent of the military force must, at all events, be regulated by the resources of the country. For a long time to come, it will not be possible to maintain a large army; and as the means of doing this increase, the population and natural strength of the community will proportionably increase. When will the time arrive that the federal government can raise and maintain an army capable of erecting a despotism over the great body of the people of an immense empire, who are in a situation, through the medium of their State governments, to take measures for their own defense, with all the celerity, regularity, and system of independent nations? The apprehension may be considered as a disease, for which there can be found no cure in the resources of argument and reasoning. PUBLIUS. 1 Its full efficacy will be examined hereafter. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXIX. Concerning the Militia From the Daily Advertiser. Thursday, January 10, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The power of regulating the militia, and of commanding its services in times of insurrection and invasion are natural incidents to the duties of superintending the common defense, and of watching over the internal peace of the Confederacy. It requires no skill in the science of war to discern that uniformity in the organization and discipline of the militia would be attended with the most beneficial effects, whenever they were called into service for the public defense. It would enable them to discharge the duties of the camp and of the field with mutual intelligence and concert an advantage of peculiar moment in the operations of an army; and it would fit them much sooner to acquire the degree of proficiency in military functions which would be essential to their usefulness. This desirable uniformity can only be accomplished by confiding the regulation of the militia to the direction of the national authority. It is, therefore, with the most evident propriety, that the plan of the convention proposes to empower the Union to provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the militia, and for governing such part of them as may be employed in the service of the United States, RESERVING TO THE STATES RESPECTIVELY THE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS, AND THE AUTHORITY OF TRAINING THE MILITIA ACCORDING TO THE DISCIPLINE PRESCRIBED BY CONGRESS. Of the different grounds which have been taken in opposition to the plan of the convention, there is none that was so little to have been expected, or is so untenable in itself, as the one from which this particular provision has been attacked. If a wellregulated militia be the most natural defense of a free country, it ought certainly to be under the regulation and at the disposal of that body which is constituted the guardian of the national security. If standing armies are dangerous to liberty, an efficacious power over the militia, in the body to whose care the protection of the State is committed, ought, as far as possible, to take away the inducement and the pretext to such unfriendly institutions. If the federal government can command the aid of the militia in those emergencies which call for the military arm in support of the civil magistrate, it can the better dispense with the employment of a different kind of force. If it cannot avail itself of the former, it will be obliged to recur to the latter. To render an army unnecessary, will be a more certain method of preventing its existence than a thousand prohibitions upon paper. In order to cast an odium upon the power of calling forth the militia to execute the laws of the Union, it has been remarked that there is nowhere any provision in the proposed Constitution for calling out the POSSE COMITATUS, to assist the magistrate in the execution of his duty, whence it has been inferred, that military force was intended to be his only auxiliary. There is a striking incoherence in the objections which have appeared, and sometimes even from the same quarter, not much calculated to inspire a very favorable opinion of the sincerity or fair dealing of their authors. The same persons who tell us in one breath, that the powers of the federal government will be despotic and unlimited, inform us in the next, that it has not authority sufficient even to call out the POSSE COMITATUS. The latter, fortunately, is as much short of the truth as the former exceeds it. It would be as absurd to doubt, that a right to pass all laws NECESSARY AND PROPER to execute its declared powers, would include that of requiring the assistance of the citizens to the officers who may be intrusted with the execution of those laws, as it would be to believe, that a right to enact laws necessary and proper for the imposition and collection of taxes would involve that of varying the rules of descent and of the alienation of landed property, or of abolishing the trial by jury in cases relating to it. It being therefore evident that the supposition of a want of power to require the aid of the POSSE COMITATUS is entirely destitute of color, it will follow, that the conclusion which has been drawn from it, in its application to the authority of the federal government over the militia, is as uncandid as it is illogical. What reason could there be to infer, that force was intended to be the sole instrument of authority, merely because there is a power to make use of it when necessary? What shall we think of the motives which could induce men of sense to reason in this manner? How shall we prevent a conflict between charity and judgment? By a curious refinement upon the spirit of republican jealousy, we are even taught to apprehend danger from the militia itself, in the hands of the federal government. It is observed that select corps may be formed, composed of the young and ardent, who may be rendered subservient to the views of arbitrary power. What plan for the regulation of the militia may be pursued by the national government, is impossible to be foreseen. But so far from viewing the matter in the same light with those who object to select corps as dangerous, were the Constitution ratified, and were I to deliver my sentiments to a member of the federal legislature from this State on the subject of a militia establishment, I should hold to him, in substance, the following discourse: The project of disciplining all the militia of the United States is as futile as it would be injurious, if it were capable of being carried into execution. A tolerable expertness in military movements is a business that requires time and practice. It is not a day, or even a week, that will suffice for the attainment of it. To oblige the great body of the yeomanry, and of the other classes of the citizens, to be under arms for the purpose of going through military exercises and evolutions, as often as might be necessary to acquire the degree of perfection which would entitle them to the character of a wellregulated militia, would be a real grievance to the people, and a serious public inconvenience and loss. It would form an annual deduction from the productive labor of the country, to an amount which, calculating upon the present numbers of the people, would not fall far short of the whole expense of the civil establishments of all the States. To attempt a thing which would abridge the mass of labor and industry to so considerable an extent, would be unwise: and the experiment, if made, could not succeed, because it would not long be endured. Little more can reasonably be aimed at, with respect to the people at large, than to have them properly armed and equipped; and in order to see that this be not neglected, it will be necessary to assemble them once or twice in the course of a year. But though the scheme of disciplining the whole nation must be abandoned as mischievous or impracticable; yet it is a matter of the utmost importance that a welldigested plan should, as soon as possible, be adopted for the proper establishment of the militia. The attention of the government ought particularly to be directed to the formation of a select corps of moderate extent, upon such principles as will really fit them for service in case of need. By thus circumscribing the plan, it will be possible to have an excellent body of welltrained militia, ready to take the field whenever the defense of the State shall require it. This will not only lessen the call for military establishments, but if circumstances should at any time oblige the government to form an army of any magnitude that army can never be formidable to the liberties of the people while there is a large body of citizens, little, if at all, inferior to them in discipline and the use of arms, who stand ready to defend their own rights and those of their fellowcitizens. This appears to me the only substitute that can be devised for a standing army, and the best possible security against it, if it should exist. Thus differently from the adversaries of the proposed Constitution should I reason on the same subject, deducing arguments of safety from the very sources which they represent as fraught with danger and perdition. But how the national legislature may reason on the point, is a thing which neither they nor I can foresee. There is something so farfetched and so extravagant in the idea of danger to liberty from the militia, that one is at a loss whether to treat it with gravity or with raillery; whether to consider it as a mere trial of skill, like the paradoxes of rhetoricians; as a disingenuous artifice to instil prejudices at any price; or as the serious offspring of political fanaticism. Where in the name of commonsense, are our fears to end if we may not trust our sons, our brothers, our neighbors, our fellowcitizens? What shadow of danger can there be from men who are daily mingling with the rest of their countrymen and who participate with them in the same feelings, sentiments, habits and interests? What reasonable cause of apprehension can be inferred from a power in the Union to prescribe regulations for the militia, and to command its services when necessary, while the particular States are to have the SOLE AND EXCLUSIVE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS? If it were possible seriously to indulge a jealousy of the militia upon any conceivable establishment under the federal government, the circumstance of the officers being in the appointment of the States ought at once to extinguish it. There can be no doubt that this circumstance will always secure to them a preponderating influence over the militia. In reading many of the publications against the Constitution, a man is apt to imagine that he is perusing some illwritten tale or romance, which instead of natural and agreeable images, exhibits to the mind nothing but frightful and distorted shapes Gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire; discoloring and disfiguring whatever it represents, and transforming everything it touches into a monster. A sample of this is to be observed in the exaggerated and improbable suggestions which have taken place respecting the power of calling for the services of the militia. That of New Hampshire is to be marched to Georgia, of Georgia to New Hampshire, of New York to Kentucky, and of Kentucky to Lake Champlain. Nay, the debts due to the French and Dutch are to be paid in militiamen instead of louis dors and ducats. At one moment there is to be a large army to lay prostrate the liberties of the people; at another moment the militia of Virginia are to be dragged from their homes five or six hundred miles, to tame the republican contumacy of Massachusetts; and that of Massachusetts is to be transported an equal distance to subdue the refractory haughtiness of the aristocratic Virginians. Do the persons who rave at this rate imagine that their art or their eloquence can impose any conceits or absurdities upon the people of America for infallible truths? If there should be an army to be made use of as the engine of despotism, what need of the militia? If there should be no army, whither would the militia, irritated by being called upon to undertake a distant and hopeless expedition, for the purpose of riveting the chains of slavery upon a part of their countrymen, direct their course, but to the seat of the tyrants, who had meditated so foolish as well as so wicked a project, to crush them in their imagined intrenchments of power, and to make them an example of the just vengeance of an abused and incensed people? Is this the way in which usurpers stride to dominion over a numerous and enlightened nation? Do they begin by exciting the detestation of the very instruments of their intended usurpations? Do they usually commence their career by wanton and disgustful acts of power, calculated to answer no end, but to draw upon themselves universal hatred and execration? Are suppositions of this sort the sober admonitions of discerning patriots to a discerning people? Or are they the inflammatory ravings of incendiaries or distempered enthusiasts? If we were even to suppose the national rulers actuated by the most ungovernable ambition, it is impossible to believe that they would employ such preposterous means to accomplish their designs. In times of insurrection, or invasion, it would be natural and proper that the militia of a neighboring State should be marched into another, to resist a common enemy, or to guard the republic against the violence of faction or sedition. This was frequently the case, in respect to the first object, in the course of the late war; and this mutual succor is, indeed, a principal end of our political association. If the power of affording it be placed under the direction of the Union, there will be no danger of a supine and listless inattention to the dangers of a neighbor, till its near approach had superadded the incitements of selfpreservation to the too feeble impulses of duty and sympathy. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXX. Concerning the General Power of Taxation From the New York Packet. Friday, December 28, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It has been already observed that the federal government ought to possess the power of providing for the support of the national forces; in which proposition was intended to be included the expense of raising troops, of building and equipping fleets, and all other expenses in any wise connected with military arrangements and operations. But these are not the only objects to which the jurisdiction of the Union, in respect to revenue, must necessarily be empowered to extend. It must embrace a provision for the support of the national civil list; for the payment of the national debts contracted, or that may be contracted; and, in general, for all those matters which will call for disbursements out of the national treasury. The conclusion is, that there must be interwoven, in the frame of the government, a general power of taxation, in one shape or another. Money is, with propriety, considered as the vital principle of the body politic; as that which sustains its life and motion, and enables it to perform its most essential functions. A complete power, therefore, to procure a regular and adequate supply of it, as far as the resources of the community will permit, may be regarded as an indispensable ingredient in every constitution. From a deficiency in this particular, one of two evils must ensue; either the people must be subjected to continual plunder, as a substitute for a more eligible mode of supplying the public wants, or the government must sink into a fatal atrophy, and, in a short course of time, perish. In the Ottoman or Turkish empire, the sovereign, though in other respects absolute master of the lives and fortunes of his subjects, has no right to impose a new tax. The consequence is that he permits the bashaws or governors of provinces to pillage the people without mercy; and, in turn, squeezes out of them the sums of which he stands in need, to satisfy his own exigencies and those of the state. In America, from a like cause, the government of the Union has gradually dwindled into a state of decay, approaching nearly to annihilation. Who can doubt, that the happiness of the people in both countries would be promoted by competent authorities in the proper hands, to provide the revenues which the necessities of the public might require? The present Confederation, feeble as it is intended to repose in the United States, an unlimited power of providing for the pecuniary wants of the Union. But proceeding upon an erroneous principle, it has been done in such a manner as entirely to have frustrated the intention. Congress, by the articles which compose that compact (as has already been stated), are authorized to ascertain and call for any sums of money necessary, in their judgment, to the service of the United States; and their requisitions, if conformable to the rule of apportionment, are in every constitutional sense obligatory upon the States. These have no right to question the propriety of the demand; no discretion beyond that of devising the ways and means of furnishing the sums demanded. But though this be strictly and truly the case; though the assumption of such a right would be an infringement of the articles of Union; though it may seldom or never have been avowedly claimed, yet in practice it has been constantly exercised, and would continue to be so, as long as the revenues of the Confederacy should remain dependent on the intermediate agency of its members. What the consequences of this system have been, is within the knowledge of every man the least conversant in our public affairs, and has been amply unfolded in different parts of these inquiries. It is this which has chiefly contributed to reduce us to a situation, which affords ample cause both of mortification to ourselves, and of triumph to our enemies. What remedy can there be for this situation, but in a change of the system which has produced it in a change of the fallacious and delusive system of quotas and requisitions? What substitute can there be imagined for this ignis fatuus in finance, but that of permitting the national government to raise its own revenues by the ordinary methods of taxation authorized in every wellordered constitution of civil government? Ingenious men may declaim with plausibility on any subject; but no human ingenuity can point out any other expedient to rescue us from the inconveniences and embarrassments naturally resulting from defective supplies of the public treasury. The more intelligent adversaries of the new Constitution admit the force of this reasoning; but they qualify their admission by a distinction between what they call INTERNAL and EXTERNAL taxation. The former they would reserve to the State governments; the latter, which they explain into commercial imposts, or rather duties on imported articles, they declare themselves willing to concede to the federal head. This distinction, however, would violate the maxim of good sense and sound policy, which dictates that every POWER ought to be in proportion to its OBJECT; and would still leave the general government in a kind of tutelage to the State governments, inconsistent with every idea of vigor or efficiency. Who can pretend that commercial imposts are, or would be, alone equal to the present and future exigencies of the Union? Taking into the account the existing debt, foreign and domestic, upon any plan of extinguishment which a man moderately impressed with the importance of public justice and public credit could approve, in addition to the establishments which all parties will acknowledge to be necessary, we could not reasonably flatter ourselves, that this resource alone, upon the most improved scale, would even suffice for its present necessities. Its future necessities admit not of calculation or limitation; and upon the principle, more than once adverted to, the power of making provision for them as they arise ought to be equally unconfined. I believe it may be regarded as a position warranted by the history of mankind, that, IN THE USUAL PROGRESS OF THINGS, THE NECESSITIES OF A NATION, IN EVERY STAGE OF ITS EXISTENCE, WILL BE FOUND AT LEAST EQUAL TO ITS RESOURCES. To say that deficiencies may be provided for by requisitions upon the States, is on the one hand to acknowledge that this system cannot be depended upon, and on the other hand to depend upon it for every thing beyond a certain limit. Those who have carefully attended to its vices and deformities as they have been exhibited by experience or delineated in the course of these papers, must feel invincible repugnancy to trusting the national interests in any degree to its operation. Its inevitable tendency, whenever it is brought into activity, must be to enfeeble the Union, and sow the seeds of discord and contention between the federal head and its members, and between the members themselves. Can it be expected that the deficiencies would be better supplied in this mode than the total wants of the Union have heretofore been supplied in the same mode? It ought to be recollected that if less will be required from the States, they will have proportionably less means to answer the demand. If the opinions of those who contend for the distinction which has been mentioned were to be received as evidence of truth, one would be led to conclude that there was some known point in the economy of national affairs at which it would be safe to stop and to say: Thus far the ends of public happiness will be promoted by supplying the wants of government, and all beyond this is unworthy of our care or anxiety. How is it possible that a government half supplied and always necessitous, can fulfill the purposes of its institution, can provide for the security, advance the prosperity, or support the reputation of the commonwealth? How can it ever possess either energy or stability, dignity or credit, confidence at home or respectability abroad? How can its administration be any thing else than a succession of expedients temporizing, impotent, disgraceful? How will it be able to avoid a frequent sacrifice of its engagements to immediate necessity? How can it undertake or execute any liberal or enlarged plans of public good? Let us attend to what would be the effects of this situation in the very first war in which we should happen to be engaged. We will presume, for arguments sake, that the revenue arising from the impost duties answers the purposes of a provision for the public debt and of a peace establishment for the Union. Thus circumstanced, a war breaks out. What would be the probable conduct of the government in such an emergency? Taught by experience that proper dependence could not be placed on the success of requisitions, unable by its own authority to lay hold of fresh resources, and urged by considerations of national danger, would it not be driven to the expedient of diverting the funds already appropriated from their proper objects to the defense of the State? It is not easy to see how a step of this kind could be avoided; and if it should be taken, it is evident that it would prove the destruction of public credit at the very moment that it was becoming essential to the public safety. To imagine that at such a crisis credit might be dispensed with, would be the extreme of infatuation. In the modern system of war, nations the most wealthy are obliged to have recourse to large loans. A country so little opulent as ours must feel this necessity in a much stronger degree. But who would lend to a government that prefaced its overtures for borrowing by an act which demonstrated that no reliance could be placed on the steadiness of its measures for paying? The loans it might be able to procure would be as limited in their extent as burdensome in their conditions. They would be made upon the same principles that usurers commonly lend to bankrupt and fraudulent debtors, with a sparing hand and at enormous premiums. It may perhaps be imagined that, from the scantiness of the resources of the country, the necessity of diverting the established funds in the case supposed would exist, though the national government should possess an unrestrained power of taxation. But two considerations will serve to quiet all apprehension on this head: one is, that we are sure the resources of the community, in their full extent, will be brought into activity for the benefit of the Union; the other is, that whatever deficiences there may be, can without difficulty be supplied by loans. The power of creating new funds upon new objects of taxation, by its own authority, would enable the national government to borrow as far as its necessities might require. Foreigners, as well as the citizens of America, could then reasonably repose confidence in its engagements; but to depend upon a government that must itself depend upon thirteen other governments for the means of fulfilling its contracts, when once its situation is clearly understood, would require a degree of credulity not often to be met with in the pecuniary transactions of mankind, and little reconcilable with the usual sharpsightedness of avarice. Reflections of this kind may have trifling weight with men who hope to see realized in America the halcyon scenes of the poetic or fabulous age; but to those who believe we are likely to experience a common portion of the vicissitudes and calamities which have fallen to the lot of other nations, they must appear entitled to serious attention. Such men must behold the actual situation of their country with painful solicitude, and deprecate the evils which ambition or revenge might, with too much facility, inflict upon it. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 1, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: In disquisitions of every kind, there are certain primary truths, or first principles, upon which all subsequent reasonings must depend. These contain an internal evidence which, antecedent to all reflection or combination, commands the assent of the mind. Where it produces not this effect, it must proceed either from some defect or disorder in the organs of perception, or from the influence of some strong interest, or passion, or prejudice. Of this nature are the maxims in geometry, that the whole is greater than its part; things equal to the same are equal to one another; two straight lines cannot enclose a space; and all right angles are equal to each other. Of the same nature are these other maxims in ethics and politics, that there cannot be an effect without a cause; that the means ought to be proportioned to the end; that every power ought to be commensurate with its object; that there ought to be no limitation of a power destined to effect a purpose which is itself incapable of limitation. And there are other truths in the two latter sciences which, if they cannot pretend to rank in the class of axioms, are yet such direct inferences from them, and so obvious in themselves, and so agreeable to the natural and unsophisticated dictates of commonsense, that they challenge the assent of a sound and unbiased mind, with a degree of force and conviction almost equally irresistible. The objects of geometrical inquiry are so entirely abstracted from those pursuits which stir up and put in motion the unruly passions of the human heart, that mankind, without difficulty, adopt not only the more simple theorems of the science, but even those abstruse paradoxes which, however they may appear susceptible of demonstration, are at variance with the natural conceptions which the mind, without the aid of philosophy, would be led to entertain upon the subject. The INFINITE DIVISIBILITY of matter, or, in other words, the INFINITE divisibility of a FINITE thing, extending even to the minutest atom, is a point agreed among geometricians, though not less incomprehensible to commonsense than any of those mysteries in religion, against which the batteries of infidelity have been so industriously leveled. But in the sciences of morals and politics, men are found far less tractable. To a certain degree, it is right and useful that this should be the case. Caution and investigation are a necessary armor against error and imposition. But this untractableness may be carried too far, and may degenerate into obstinacy, perverseness, or disingenuity. Though it cannot be pretended that the principles of moral and political knowledge have, in general, the same degree of certainty with those of the mathematics, yet they have much better claims in this respect than, to judge from the conduct of men in particular situations, we should be disposed to allow them. The obscurity is much oftener in the passions and prejudices of the reasoner than in the subject. Men, upon too many occasions, do not give their own understandings fair play; but, yielding to some untoward bias, they entangle themselves in words and confound themselves in subtleties. How else could it happen (if we admit the objectors to be sincere in their opposition), that positions so clear as those which manifest the necessity of a general power of taxation in the government of the Union, should have to encounter any adversaries among men of discernment? Though these positions have been elsewhere fully stated, they will perhaps not be improperly recapitulated in this place, as introductory to an examination of what may have been offered by way of objection to them. They are in substance as follows: A government ought to contain in itself every power requisite to the full accomplishment of the objects committed to its care, and to the complete execution of the trusts for which it is responsible, free from every other control but a regard to the public good and to the sense of the people. As the duties of superintending the national defense and of securing the public peace against foreign or domestic violence involve a provision for casualties and dangers to which no possible limits can be assigned, the power of making that provision ought to know no other bounds than the exigencies of the nation and the resources of the community. As revenue is the essential engine by which the means of answering the national exigencies must be procured, the power of procuring that article in its full extent must necessarily be comprehended in that of providing for those exigencies. As theory and practice conspire to prove that the power of procuring revenue is unavailing when exercised over the States in their collective capacities, the federal government must of necessity be invested with an unqualified power of taxation in the ordinary modes. Did not experience evince the contrary, it would be natural to conclude that the propriety of a general power of taxation in the national government might safely be permitted to rest on the evidence of these propositions, unassisted by any additional arguments or illustrations. But we find, in fact, that the antagonists of the proposed Constitution, so far from acquiescing in their justness or truth, seem to make their principal and most zealous effort against this part of the plan. It may therefore be satisfactory to analyze the arguments with which they combat it. Those of them which have been most labored with that view, seem in substance to amount to this: It is not true, because the exigencies of the Union may not be susceptible of limitation, that its power of laying taxes ought to be unconfined. Revenue is as requisite to the purposes of the local administrations as to those of the Union; and the former are at least of equal importance with the latter to the happiness of the people. It is, therefore, as necessary that the State governments should be able to command the means of supplying their wants, as that the national government should possess the like faculty in respect to the wants of the Union. But an indefinite power of taxation in the LATTER might, and probably would in time, deprive the FORMER of the means of providing for their own necessities; and would subject them entirely to the mercy of the national legislature. As the laws of the Union are to become the supreme law of the land, as it is to have power to pass all laws that may be NECESSARY for carrying into execution the authorities with which it is proposed to vest it, the national government might at any time abolish the taxes imposed for State objects upon the pretense of an interference with its own. It might allege a necessity of doing this in order to give efficacy to the national revenues. And thus all the resources of taxation might by degrees become the subjects of federal monopoly, to the entire exclusion and destruction of the State governments. This mode of reasoning appears sometimes to turn upon the supposition of usurpation in the national government; at other times it seems to be designed only as a deduction from the constitutional operation of its intended powers. It is only in the latter light that it can be admitted to have any pretensions to fairness. The moment we launch into conjectures about the usurpations of the federal government, we get into an unfathomable abyss, and fairly put ourselves out of the reach of all reasoning. Imagination may range at pleasure till it gets bewildered amidst the labyrinths of an enchanted castle, and knows not on which side to turn to extricate itself from the perplexities into which it has so rashly adventured. Whatever may be the limits or modifications of the powers of the Union, it is easy to imagine an endless train of possible dangers; and by indulging an excess of jealousy and timidity, we may bring ourselves to a state of absolute scepticism and irresolution. I repeat here what I have observed in substance in another place, that all observations founded upon the danger of usurpation ought to be referred to the composition and structure of the government, not to the nature or extent of its powers. The State governments, by their original constitutions, are invested with complete sovereignty. In what does our security consist against usurpation from that quarter? Doubtless in the manner of their formation, and in a due dependence of those who are to administer them upon the people. If the proposed construction of the federal government be found, upon an impartial examination of it, to be such as to afford, to a proper extent, the same species of security, all apprehensions on the score of usurpation ought to be discarded. It should not be forgotten that a disposition in the State governments to encroach upon the rights of the Union is quite as probable as a disposition in the Union to encroach upon the rights of the State governments. What side would be likely to prevail in such a conflict, must depend on the means which the contending parties could employ toward insuring success. As in republics strength is always on the side of the people, and as there are weighty reasons to induce a belief that the State governments will commonly possess most influence over them, the natural conclusion is that such contests will be most apt to end to the disadvantage of the Union; and that there is greater probability of encroachments by the members upon the federal head, than by the federal head upon the members. But it is evident that all conjectures of this kind must be extremely vague and fallible: and that it is by far the safest course to lay them altogether aside, and to confine our attention wholly to the nature and extent of the powers as they are delineated in the Constitution. Every thing beyond this must be left to the prudence and firmness of the people; who, as they will hold the scales in their own hands, it is to be hoped, will always take care to preserve the constitutional equilibrium between the general and the State governments. Upon this ground, which is evidently the true one, it will not be difficult to obviate the objections which have been made to an indefinite power of taxation in the United States. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the Daily Advertiser. Thursday, January 3, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Although I am of opinion that there would be no real danger of the consequences which seem to be apprehended to the State governments from a power in the Union to control them in the levies of money, because I am persuaded that the sense of the people, the extreme hazard of provoking the resentments of the State governments, and a conviction of the utility and necessity of local administrations for local purposes, would be a complete barrier against the oppressive use of such a power; yet I am willing here to allow, in its full extent, the justness of the reasoning which requires that the individual States should possess an independent and uncontrollable authority to raise their own revenues for the supply of their own wants. And making this concession, I affirm that (with the sole exception of duties on imports and exports) they would, under the plan of the convention, retain that authority in the most absolute and unqualified sense; and that an attempt on the part of the national government to abridge them in the exercise of it, would be a violent assumption of power, unwarranted by any article or clause of its Constitution. An entire consolidation of the States into one complete national sovereignty would imply an entire subordination of the parts; and whatever powers might remain in them, would be altogether dependent on the general will. But as the plan of the convention aims only at a partial union or consolidation, the State governments would clearly retain all the rights of sovereignty which they before had, and which were not, by that act, EXCLUSIVELY delegated to the United States. This exclusive delegation, or rather this alienation, of State sovereignty, would only exist in three cases: where the Constitution in express terms granted an exclusive authority to the Union; where it granted in one instance an authority to the Union, and in another prohibited the States from exercising the like authority; and where it granted an authority to the Union, to which a similar authority in the States would be absolutely and totally CONTRADICTORY and REPUGNANT. I use these terms to distinguish this last case from another which might appear to resemble it, but which would, in fact, be essentially different; I mean where the exercise of a concurrent jurisdiction might be productive of occasional interferences in the POLICY of any branch of administration, but would not imply any direct contradiction or repugnancy in point of constitutional authority. These three cases of exclusive jurisdiction in the federal government may be exemplified by the following instances: The last clause but one in the eighth section of the first article provides expressly that Congress shall exercise EXCLUSIVE LEGISLATION over the district to be appropriated as the seat of government. This answers to the first case. The first clause of the same section empowers Congress TO LAY AND COLLECT TAXES, DUTIES, IMPOSTS AND EXCISES; and the second clause of the tenth section of the same article declares that, NO STATE SHALL, without the consent of Congress, LAY ANY IMPOSTS OR DUTIES ON IMPORTS OR EXPORTS, except for the purpose of executing its inspection laws. Hence would result an exclusive power in the Union to lay duties on imports and exports, with the particular exception mentioned; but this power is abridged by another clause, which declares that no tax or duty shall be laid on articles exported from any State; in consequence of which qualification, it now only extends to the DUTIES ON IMPORTS. This answers to the second case. The third will be found in that clause which declares that Congress shall have power to establish an UNIFORM RULE of naturalization throughout the United States. This must necessarily be exclusive; because if each State had power to prescribe a DISTINCT RULE, there could not be a UNIFORM RULE. A case which may perhaps be thought to resemble the latter, but which is in fact widely different, affects the question immediately under consideration. I mean the power of imposing taxes on all articles other than exports and imports. This, I contend, is manifestly a concurrent and coequal authority in the United States and in the individual States. There is plainly no expression in the granting clause which makes that power EXCLUSIVE in the Union. There is no independent clause or sentence which prohibits the States from exercising it. So far is this from being the case, that a plain and conclusive argument to the contrary is to be deduced from the restraint laid upon the States in relation to duties on imports and exports. This restriction implies an admission that, if it were not inserted, the States would possess the power it excludes; and it implies a further admission, that as to all other taxes, the authority of the States remains undiminished. In any other view it would be both unnecessary and dangerous; it would be unnecessary, because if the grant to the Union of the power of laying such duties implied the exclusion of the States, or even their subordination in this particular, there could be no need of such a restriction; it would be dangerous, because the introduction of it leads directly to the conclusion which has been mentioned, and which, if the reasoning of the objectors be just, could not have been intended; I mean that the States, in all cases to which the restriction did not apply, would have a concurrent power of taxation with the Union. The restriction in question amounts to what lawyers call a NEGATIVE PREGNANT that is, a NEGATION of one thing, and an AFFIRMANCE of another; a negation of the authority of the States to impose taxes on imports and exports, and an affirmance of their authority to impose them on all other articles. It would be mere sophistry to argue that it was meant to exclude them ABSOLUTELY from the imposition of taxes of the former kind, and to leave them at liberty to lay others SUBJECT TO THE CONTROL of the national legislature. The restraining or prohibitory clause only says, that they shall not, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF CONGRESS, lay such duties; and if we are to understand this in the sense last mentioned, the Constitution would then be made to introduce a formal provision for the sake of a very absurd conclusion; which is, that the States, WITH THE CONSENT of the national legislature, might tax imports and exports; and that they might tax every other article, UNLESS CONTROLLED by the same body. If this was the intention, why not leave it, in the first instance, to what is alleged to be the natural operation of the original clause, conferring a general power of taxation upon the Union? It is evident that this could not have been the intention, and that it will not bear a construction of the kind. As to a supposition of repugnancy between the power of taxation in the States and in the Union, it cannot be supported in that sense which would be requisite to work an exclusion of the States. It is, indeed, possible that a tax might be laid on a particular article by a State which might render it INEXPEDIENT that thus a further tax should be laid on the same article by the Union; but it would not imply a constitutional inability to impose a further tax. The quantity of the imposition, the expediency or inexpediency of an increase on either side, would be mutually questions of prudence; but there would be involved no direct contradiction of power. The particular policy of the national and of the State systems of finance might now and then not exactly coincide, and might require reciprocal forbearances. It is not, however a mere possibility of inconvenience in the exercise of powers, but an immediate constitutional repugnancy that can by implication alienate and extinguish a preexisting right of sovereignty. The necessity of a concurrent jurisdiction in certain cases results from the division of the sovereign power; and the rule that all authorities, of which the States are not explicitly divested in favor of the Union, remain with them in full vigor, is not a theoretical consequence of that division, but is clearly admitted by the whole tenor of the instrument which contains the articles of the proposed Constitution. We there find that, notwithstanding the affirmative grants of general authorities, there has been the most pointed care in those cases where it was deemed improper that the like authorities should reside in the States, to insert negative clauses prohibiting the exercise of them by the States. The tenth section of the first article consists altogether of such provisions. This circumstance is a clear indication of the sense of the convention, and furnishes a rule of interpretation out of the body of the act, which justifies the position I have advanced and refutes every hypothesis to the contrary. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXIII. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the Daily Advertiser. January 3, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The residue of the argument against the provisions of the Constitution in respect to taxation is ingrafted upon the following clause. The last clause of the eighth section of the first article of the plan under consideration authorizes the national legislature to make all laws which shall be NECESSARY and PROPER for carrying into execution THE POWERS by that Constitution vested in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof; and the second clause of the sixth article declares, that the Constitution and the laws of the United States made IN PURSUANCE THEREOF, and the treaties made by their authority shall be the SUPREME LAW of the land, any thing in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding. These two clauses have been the source of much virulent invective and petulant declamation against the proposed Constitution. They have been held up to the people in all the exaggerated colors of misrepresentation as the pernicious engines by which their local governments were to be destroyed and their liberties exterminated; as the hideous monster whose devouring jaws would spare neither sex nor age, nor high nor low, nor sacred nor profane; and yet, strange as it may appear, after all this clamor, to those who may not have happened to contemplate them in the same light, it may be affirmed with perfect confidence that the constitutional operation of the intended government would be precisely the same, if these clauses were entirely obliterated, as if they were repeated in every article. They are only declaratory of a truth which would have resulted by necessary and unavoidable implication from the very act of constituting a federal government, and vesting it with certain specified powers. This is so clear a proposition, that moderation itself can scarcely listen to the railings which have been so copiously vented against this part of the plan, without emotions that disturb its equanimity. What is a power, but the ability or faculty of doing a thing? What is the ability to do a thing, but the power of employing the MEANS necessary to its execution? What is a LEGISLATIVE power, but a power of making LAWS? What are the MEANS to execute a LEGISLATIVE power but LAWS? What is the power of laying and collecting taxes, but a LEGISLATIVE POWER, or a power of MAKING LAWS, to lay and collect taxes? What are the proper means of executing such a power, but NECESSARY and PROPER laws? This simple train of inquiry furnishes us at once with a test by which to judge of the true nature of the clause complained of. It conducts us to this palpable truth, that a power to lay and collect taxes must be a power to pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER for the execution of that power; and what does the unfortunate and culumniated provision in question do more than declare the same truth, to wit, that the national legislature, to whom the power of laying and collecting taxes had been previously given, might, in the execution of that power, pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER to carry it into effect? I have applied these observations thus particularly to the power of taxation, because it is the immediate subject under consideration, and because it is the most important of the authorities proposed to be conferred upon the Union. But the same process will lead to the same result, in relation to all other powers declared in the Constitution. And it is EXPRESSLY to execute these powers that the sweeping clause, as it has been affectedly called, authorizes the national legislature to pass all NECESSARY and PROPER laws. If there is any thing exceptionable, it must be sought for in the specific powers upon which this general declaration is predicated. The declaration itself, though it may be chargeable with tautology or redundancy, is at least perfectly harmless. But SUSPICION may ask, Why then was it introduced? The answer is, that it could only have been done for greater caution, and to guard against all cavilling refinements in those who might hereafter feel a disposition to curtail and evade the legitimate authorities of the Union. The Convention probably foresaw, what it has been a principal aim of these papers to inculcate, that the danger which most threatens our political welfare is that the State governments will finally sap the foundations of the Union; and might therefore think it necessary, in so cardinal a point, to leave nothing to construction. Whatever may have been the inducement to it, the wisdom of the precaution is evident from the cry which has been raised against it; as that very cry betrays a disposition to question the great and essential truth which it is manifestly the object of that provision to declare. But it may be again asked, Who is to judge of the NECESSITY and PROPRIETY of the laws to be passed for executing the powers of the Union? I answer, first, that this question arises as well and as fully upon the simple grant of those powers as upon the declaratory clause; and I answer, in the second place, that the national government, like every other, must judge, in the first instance, of the proper exercise of its powers, and its constituents in the last. If the federal government should overpass the just bounds of its authority and make a tyrannical use of its powers, the people, whose creature it is, must appeal to the standard they have formed, and take such measures to redress the injury done to the Constitution as the exigency may suggest and prudence justify. The propriety of a law, in a constitutional light, must always be determined by the nature of the powers upon which it is founded. Suppose, by some forced constructions of its authority (which, indeed, cannot easily be imagined), the Federal legislature should attempt to vary the law of descent in any State, would it not be evident that, in making such an attempt, it had exceeded its jurisdiction, and infringed upon that of the State? Suppose, again, that upon the pretense of an interference with its revenues, it should undertake to abrogate a landtax imposed by the authority of a State; would it not be equally evident that this was an invasion of that concurrent jurisdiction in respect to this species of tax, which its Constitution plainly supposes to exist in the State governments? If there ever should be a doubt on this head, the credit of it will be entirely due to those reasoners who, in the imprudent zeal of their animosity to the plan of the convention, have labored to envelop it in a cloud calculated to obscure the plainest and simplest truths. But it is said that the laws of the Union are to be the SUPREME LAW of the land. But what inference can be drawn from this, or what would they amount to, if they were not to be supreme? It is evident they would amount to nothing. A LAW, by the very meaning of the term, includes supremacy. It is a rule which those to whom it is prescribed are bound to observe. This results from every political association. If individuals enter into a state of society, the laws of that society must be the supreme regulator of their conduct. If a number of political societies enter into a larger political society, the laws which the latter may enact, pursuant to the powers intrusted to it by its constitution, must necessarily be supreme over those societies, and the individuals of whom they are composed. It would otherwise be a mere treaty, dependent on the good faith of the parties, and not a government, which is only another word for POLITICAL POWER AND SUPREMACY. But it will not follow from this doctrine that acts of the large society which are NOT PURSUANT to its constitutional powers, but which are invasions of the residuary authorities of the smaller societies, will become the supreme law of the land. These will be merely acts of usurpation, and will deserve to be treated as such. Hence we perceive that the clause which declares the supremacy of the laws of the Union, like the one we have just before considered, only declares a truth, which flows immediately and necessarily from the institution of a federal government. It will not, I presume, have escaped observation, that it EXPRESSLY confines this supremacy to laws made PURSUANT TO THE CONSTITUTION; which I mention merely as an instance of caution in the convention; since that limitation would have been to be understood, though it had not been expressed. Though a law, therefore, laying a tax for the use of the United States would be supreme in its nature, and could not legally be opposed or controlled, yet a law for abrogating or preventing the collection of a tax laid by the authority of the State, (unless upon imports and exports), would not be the supreme law of the land, but a usurpation of power not granted by the Constitution. As far as an improper accumulation of taxes on the same object might tend to render the collection difficult or precarious, this would be a mutual inconvenience, not arising from a superiority or defect of power on either side, but from an injudicious exercise of power by one or the other, in a manner equally disadvantageous to both. It is to be hoped and presumed, however, that mutual interest would dictate a concert in this respect which would avoid any material inconvenience. The inference from the whole is, that the individual States would, under the proposed Constitution, retain an independent and uncontrollable authority to raise revenue to any extent of which they may stand in need, by every kind of taxation, except duties on imports and exports. It will be shown in the next paper that this CONCURRENT JURISDICTION in the article of taxation was the only admissible substitute for an entire subordination, in respect to this branch of power, of the State authority to that of the Union. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXIV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the New York Packet. Friday, January 4, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: I flatter myself it has been clearly shown in my last number that the particular States, under the proposed Constitution, would have COEQUAL authority with the Union in the article of revenue, except as to duties on imports. As this leaves open to the States far the greatest part of the resources of the community, there can be no color for the assertion that they would not possess means as abundant as could be desired for the supply of their own wants, independent of all external control. That the field is sufficiently wide will more fully appear when we come to advert to the inconsiderable share of the public expenses for which it will fall to the lot of the State governments to provide. To argue upon abstract principles that this coordinate authority cannot exist, is to set up supposition and theory against fact and reality. However proper such reasonings might be to show that a thing OUGHT NOT TO EXIST, they are wholly to be rejected when they are made use of to prove that it does not exist contrary to the evidence of the fact itself. It is well known that in the Roman republic the legislative authority, in the last resort, resided for ages in two different political bodies not as branches of the same legislature, but as distinct and independent legislatures, in each of which an opposite interest prevailed: in one the patrician; in the other, the plebian. Many arguments might have been adduced to prove the unfitness of two such seemingly contradictory authorities, each having power to ANNUL or REPEAL the acts of the other. But a man would have been regarded as frantic who should have attempted at Rome to disprove their existence. It will be readily understood that I allude to the COMITIA CENTURIATA and the COMITIA TRIBUTA. The former, in which the people voted by centuries, was so arranged as to give a superiority to the patrician interest; in the latter, in which numbers prevailed, the plebian interest had an entire predominancy. And yet these two legislatures coexisted for ages, and the Roman republic attained to the utmost height of human greatness. In the case particularly under consideration, there is no such contradiction as appears in the example cited; there is no power on either side to annul the acts of the other. And in practice there is little reason to apprehend any inconvenience; because, in a short course of time, the wants of the States will naturally reduce themselves within A VERY NARROW COMPASS; and in the interim, the United States will, in all probability, find it convenient to abstain wholly from those objects to which the particular States would be inclined to resort. To form a more precise judgment of the true merits of this question, it will be well to advert to the proportion between the objects that will require a federal provision in respect to revenue, and those which will require a State provision. We shall discover that the former are altogether unlimited, and that the latter are circumscribed within very moderate bounds. In pursuing this inquiry, we must bear in mind that we are not to confine our view to the present period, but to look forward to remote futurity. Constitutions of civil government are not to be framed upon a calculation of existing exigencies, but upon a combination of these with the probable exigencies of ages, according to the natural and tried course of human affairs. Nothing, therefore, can be more fallacious than to infer the extent of any power, proper to be lodged in the national government, from an estimate of its immediate necessities. There ought to be a CAPACITY to provide for future contingencies as they may happen; and as these are illimitable in their nature, it is impossible safely to limit that capacity. It is true, perhaps, that a computation might be made with sufficient accuracy to answer the purpose of the quantity of revenue requisite to discharge the subsisting engagements of the Union, and to maintain those establishments which, for some time to come, would suffice in time of peace. But would it be wise, or would it not rather be the extreme of folly, to stop at this point, and to leave the government intrusted with the care of the national defense in a state of absolute incapacity to provide for the protection of the community against future invasions of the public peace, by foreign war or domestic convulsions? If, on the contrary, we ought to exceed this point, where can we stop, short of an indefinite power of providing for emergencies as they may arise? Though it is easy to assert, in general terms, the possibility of forming a rational judgment of a due provision against probable dangers, yet we may safely challenge those who make the assertion to bring forward their data, and may affirm that they would be found as vague and uncertain as any that could be produced to establish the probable duration of the world. Observations confined to the mere prospects of internal attacks can deserve no weight; though even these will admit of no satisfactory calculation: but if we mean to be a commercial people, it must form a part of our policy to be able one day to defend that commerce. The support of a navy and of naval wars would involve contingencies that must baffle all the efforts of political arithmetic. Admitting that we ought to try the novel and absurd experiment in politics of tying up the hands of government from offensive war founded upon reasons of state, yet certainly we ought not to disable it from guarding the community against the ambition or enmity of other nations. A cloud has been for some time hanging over the European world. If it should break forth into a storm, who can insure us that in its progress a part of its fury would not be spent upon us? No reasonable man would hastily pronounce that we are entirely out of its reach. Or if the combustible materials that now seem to be collecting should be dissipated without coming to maturity, or if a flame should be kindled without extending to us, what security can we have that our tranquillity will long remain undisturbed from some other cause or from some other quarter? Let us recollect that peace or war will not always be left to our option; that however moderate or unambitious we may be, we cannot count upon the moderation, or hope to extinguish the ambition of others. Who could have imagined at the conclusion of the last war that France and Britain, wearied and exhausted as they both were, would so soon have looked with so hostile an aspect upon each other? To judge from the history of mankind, we shall be compelled to conclude that the fiery and destructive passions of war reign in the human breast with much more powerful sway than the mild and beneficent sentiments of peace; and that to model our political systems upon speculations of lasting tranquillity, is to calculate on the weaker springs of the human character. What are the chief sources of expense in every government? What has occasioned that enormous accumulation of debts with which several of the European nations are oppressed? The answers plainly is, wars and rebellions; the support of those institutions which are necessary to guard the body politic against these two most mortal diseases of society. The expenses arising from those institutions which are relative to the mere domestic police of a state, to the support of its legislative, executive, and judicial departments, with their different appendages, and to the encouragement of agriculture and manufactures (which will comprehend almost all the objects of state expenditure), are insignificant in comparison with those which relate to the national defense. In the kingdom of Great Britain, where all the ostentatious apparatus of monarchy is to be provided for, not above a fifteenth part of the annual income of the nation is appropriated to the class of expenses last mentioned; the other fourteen fifteenths are absorbed in the payment of the interest of debts contracted for carrying on the wars in which that country has been engaged, and in the maintenance of fleets and armies. If, on the one hand, it should be observed that the expenses incurred in the prosecution of the ambitious enterprises and vainglorious pursuits of a monarchy are not a proper standard by which to judge of those which might be necessary in a republic, it ought, on the other hand, to be remarked that there should be as great a disproportion between the profusion and extravagance of a wealthy kingdom in its domestic administration, and the frugality and economy which in that particular become the modest simplicity of republican government. If we balance a proper deduction from one side against that which it is supposed ought to be made from the other, the proportion may still be considered as holding good. But let us advert to the large debt which we have ourselves contracted in a single war, and let us only calculate on a common share of the events which disturb the peace of nations, and we shall instantly perceive, without the aid of any elaborate illustration, that there must always be an immense disproportion between the objects of federal and state expenditures. It is true that several of the States, separately, are encumbered with considerable debts, which are an excrescence of the late war. But this cannot happen again, if the proposed system be adopted; and when these debts are discharged, the only call for revenue of any consequence, which the State governments will continue to experience, will be for the mere support of their respective civil list; to which, if we add all contingencies, the total amount in every State ought to fall considerably short of two hundred thousand pounds. In framing a government for posterity as well as ourselves, we ought, in those provisions which are designed to be permanent, to calculate, not on temporary, but on permanent causes of expense. If this principle be a just one our attention would be directed to a provision in favor of the State governments for an annual sum of about two hundred thousand pounds; while the exigencies of the Union could be susceptible of no limits, even in imagination. In this view of the subject, by what logic can it be maintained that the local governments ought to command, in perpetuity, an EXCLUSIVE source of revenue for any sum beyond the extent of two hundred thousand pounds? To extend its power further, in EXCLUSION of the authority of the Union, would be to take the resources of the community out of those hands which stood in need of them for the public welfare, in order to put them into other hands which could have no just or proper occasion for them. Suppose, then, the convention had been inclined to proceed upon the principle of a repartition of the objects of revenue, between the Union and its members, in PROPORTION to their comparative necessities; what particular fund could have been selected for the use of the States, that would not either have been too much or too little too little for their present, too much for their future wants? As to the line of separation between external and internal taxes, this would leave to the States, at a rough computation, the command of two thirds of the resources of the community to defray from a tenth to a twentieth part of its expenses; and to the Union, one third of the resources of the community, to defray from nine tenths to nineteen twentieths of its expenses. If we desert this boundary and content ourselves with leaving to the States an exclusive power of taxing houses and lands, there would still be a great disproportion between the MEANS and the END; the possession of one third of the resources of the community to supply, at most, one tenth of its wants. If any fund could have been selected and appropriated, equal to and not greater than the object, it would have been inadequate to the discharge of the existing debts of the particular States, and would have left them dependent on the Union for a provision for this purpose. The preceding train of observation will justify the position which has been elsewhere laid down, that A CONCURRENT JURISDICTION in the article of taxation was the only admissible substitute for an entire subordination, in respect to this branch of power, of State authority to that of the Union. Any separation of the objects of revenue that could have been fallen upon, would have amounted to a sacrifice of the great INTERESTS of the Union to the POWER of the individual States. The convention thought the concurrent jurisdiction preferable to that subordination; and it is evident that it has at least the merit of reconciling an indefinite constitutional power of taxation in the Federal government with an adequate and independent power in the States to provide for their own necessities. There remain a few other lights, in which this important subject of taxation will claim a further consideration. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXV. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Before we proceed to examine any other objections to an indefinite power of taxation in the Union, I shall make one general remark; which is, that if the jurisdiction of the national government, in the article of revenue, should be restricted to particular objects, it would naturally occasion an undue proportion of the public burdens to fall upon those objects. Two evils would spring from this source: the oppression of particular branches of industry; and an unequal distribution of the taxes, as well among the several States as among the citizens of the same State. Suppose, as has been contended for, the federal power of taxation were to be confined to duties on imports, it is evident that the government, for want of being able to command other resources, would frequently be tempted to extend these duties to an injurious excess. There are persons who imagine that they can never be carried to too great a length; since the higher they are, the more it is alleged they will tend to discourage an extravagant consumption, to produce a favorable balance of trade, and to promote domestic manufactures. But all extremes are pernicious in various ways. Exorbitant duties on imported articles would beget a general spirit of smuggling; which is always prejudicial to the fair trader, and eventually to the revenue itself: they tend to render other classes of the community tributary, in an improper degree, to the manufacturing classes, to whom they give a premature monopoly of the markets; they sometimes force industry out of its more natural channels into others in which it flows with less advantage; and in the last place, they oppress the merchant, who is often obliged to pay them himself without any retribution from the consumer. When the demand is equal to the quantity of goods at market, the consumer generally pays the duty; but when the markets happen to be overstocked, a great proportion falls upon the merchant, and sometimes not only exhausts his profits, but breaks in upon his capital. I am apt to think that a division of the duty, between the seller and the buyer, more often happens than is commonly imagined. It is not always possible to raise the price of a commodity in exact proportion to every additional imposition laid upon it. The merchant, especially in a country of small commercial capital, is often under a necessity of keeping prices down in order to a more expeditious sale. The maxim that the consumer is the payer, is so much oftener true than the reverse of the proposition, that it is far more equitable that the duties on imports should go into a common stock, than that they should redound to the exclusive benefit of the importing States. But it is not so generally true as to render it equitable, that those duties should form the only national fund. When they are paid by the merchant they operate as an additional tax upon the importing State, whose citizens pay their proportion of them in the character of consumers. In this view they are productive of inequality among the States; which inequality would be increased with the increased extent of the duties. The confinement of the national revenues to this species of imposts would be attended with inequality, from a different cause, between the manufacturing and the nonmanufacturing States. The States which can go farthest towards the supply of their own wants, by their own manufactures, will not, according to their numbers or wealth, consume so great a proportion of imported articles as those States which are not in the same favorable situation. They would not, therefore, in this mode alone contribute to the public treasury in a ratio to their abilities. To make them do this it is necessary that recourse be had to excises, the proper objects of which are particular kinds of manufactures. New York is more deeply interested in these considerations than such of her citizens as contend for limiting the power of the Union to external taxation may be aware of. New York is an importing State, and is not likely speedily to be, to any great extent, a manufacturing State. She would, of course, suffer in a double light from restraining the jurisdiction of the Union to commercial imposts. So far as these observations tend to inculcate a danger of the import duties being extended to an injurious extreme it may be observed, conformably to a remark made in another part of these papers, that the interest of the revenue itself would be a sufficient guard against such an extreme. I readily admit that this would be the case, as long as other resources were open; but if the avenues to them were closed, HOPE, stimulated by necessity, would beget experiments, fortified by rigorous precautions and additional penalties, which, for a time, would have the intended effect, till there had been leisure to contrive expedients to elude these new precautions. The first success would be apt to inspire false opinions, which it might require a long course of subsequent experience to correct. Necessity, especially in politics, often occasions false hopes, false reasonings, and a system of measures correspondingly erroneous. But even if this supposed excess should not be a consequence of the limitation of the federal power of taxation, the inequalities spoken of would still ensue, though not in the same degree, from the other causes that have been noticed. Let us now return to the examination of objections. One which, if we may judge from the frequency of its repetition, seems most to be relied on, is, that the House of Representatives is not sufficiently numerous for the reception of all the different classes of citizens, in order to combine the interests and feelings of every part of the community, and to produce a due sympathy between the representative body and its constituents. This argument presents itself under a very specious and seducing form; and is well calculated to lay hold of the prejudices of those to whom it is addressed. But when we come to dissect it with attention, it will appear to be made up of nothing but fairsounding words. The object it seems to aim at is, in the first place, impracticable, and in the sense in which it is contended for, is unnecessary. I reserve for another place the discussion of the question which relates to the sufficiency of the representative body in respect to numbers, and shall content myself with examining here the particular use which has been made of a contrary supposition, in reference to the immediate subject of our inquiries. The idea of an actual representation of all classes of the people, by persons of each class, is altogether visionary. Unless it were expressly provided in the Constitution, that each different occupation should send one or more members, the thing would never take place in practice. Mechanics and manufacturers will always be inclined, with few exceptions, to give their votes to merchants, in preference to persons of their own professions or trades. Those discerning citizens are well aware that the mechanic and manufacturing arts furnish the materials of mercantile enterprise and industry. Many of them, indeed, are immediately connected with the operations of commerce. They know that the merchant is their natural patron and friend; and they are aware, that however great the confidence they may justly feel in their own good sense, their interests can be more effectually promoted by the merchant than by themselves. They are sensible that their habits in life have not been such as to give them those acquired endowments, without which, in a deliberative assembly, the greatest natural abilities are for the most part useless; and that the influence and weight, and superior acquirements of the merchants render them more equal to a contest with any spirit which might happen to infuse itself into the public councils, unfriendly to the manufacturing and trading interests. These considerations, and many others that might be mentioned prove, and experience confirms it, that artisans and manufacturers will commonly be disposed to bestow their votes upon merchants and those whom they recommend. We must therefore consider merchants as the natural representatives of all these classes of the community. With regard to the learned professions, little need be observed; they truly form no distinct interest in society, and according to their situation and talents, will be indiscriminately the objects of the confidence and choice of each other, and of other parts of the community. Nothing remains but the landed interest; and this, in a political view, and particularly in relation to taxes, I take to be perfectly united, from the wealthiest landlord down to the poorest tenant. No tax can be laid on land which will not affect the proprietor of millions of acres as well as the proprietor of a single acre. Every landholder will therefore have a common interest to keep the taxes on land as low as possible; and common interest may always be reckoned upon as the surest bond of sympathy. But if we even could suppose a distinction of interest between the opulent landholder and the middling farmer, what reason is there to conclude, that the first would stand a better chance of being deputed to the national legislature than the last? If we take fact as our guide, and look into our own senate and assembly, we shall find that moderate proprietors of land prevail in both; nor is this less the case in the senate, which consists of a smaller number, than in the assembly, which is composed of a greater number. Where the qualifications of the electors are the same, whether they have to choose a small or a large number, their votes will fall upon those in whom they have most confidence; whether these happen to be men of large fortunes, or of moderate property, or of no property at all. It is said to be necessary, that all classes of citizens should have some of their own number in the representative body, in order that their feelings and interests may be the better understood and attended to. But we have seen that this will never happen under any arrangement that leaves the votes of the people free. Where this is the case, the representative body, with too few exceptions to have any influence on the spirit of the government, will be composed of landholders, merchants, and men of the learned professions. But where is the danger that the interests and feelings of the different classes of citizens will not be understood or attended to by these three descriptions of men? Will not the landholder know and feel whatever will promote or insure the interest of landed property? And will he not, from his own interest in that species of property, be sufficiently prone to resist every attempt to prejudice or encumber it? Will not the merchant understand and be disposed to cultivate, as far as may be proper, the interests of the mechanic and manufacturing arts, to which his commerce is so nearly allied? Will not the man of the learned profession, who will feel a neutrality to the rivalships between the different branches of industry, be likely to prove an impartial arbiter between them, ready to promote either, so far as it shall appear to him conducive to the general interests of the society? If we take into the account the momentary humors or dispositions which may happen to prevail in particular parts of the society, and to which a wise administration will never be inattentive, is the man whose situation leads to extensive inquiry and information less likely to be a competent judge of their nature, extent, and foundation than one whose observation does not travel beyond the circle of his neighbors and acquaintances? Is it not natural that a man who is a candidate for the favor of the people, and who is dependent on the suffrages of his fellowcitizens for the continuance of his public honors, should take care to inform himself of their dispositions and inclinations, and should be willing to allow them their proper degree of influence upon his conduct? This dependence, and the necessity of being bound himself, and his posterity, by the laws to which he gives his assent, are the true, and they are the strong chords of sympathy between the representative and the constituent. There is no part of the administration of government that requires extensive information and a thorough knowledge of the principles of political economy, so much as the business of taxation. The man who understands those principles best will be least likely to resort to oppressive expedients, or sacrifice any particular class of citizens to the procurement of revenue. It might be demonstrated that the most productive system of finance will always be the least burdensome. There can be no doubt that in order to a judicious exercise of the power of taxation, it is necessary that the person in whose hands it should be acquainted with the general genius, habits, and modes of thinking of the people at large, and with the resources of the country. And this is all that can be reasonably meant by a knowledge of the interests and feelings of the people. In any other sense the proposition has either no meaning, or an absurd one. And in that sense let every considerate citizen judge for himself where the requisite qualification is most likely to be found. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXVI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the New York Packet. Tuesday January 8, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: We have seen that the result of the observations, to which the foregoing number has been principally devoted, is, that from the natural operation of the different interests and views of the various classes of the community, whether the representation of the people be more or less numerous, it will consist almost entirely of proprietors of land, of merchants, and of members of the learned professions, who will truly represent all those different interests and views. If it should be objected that we have seen other descriptions of men in the local legislatures, I answer that it is admitted there are exceptions to the rule, but not in sufficient number to influence the general complexion or character of the government. There are strong minds in every walk of life that will rise superior to the disadvantages of situation, and will command the tribute due to their merit, not only from the classes to which they particularly belong, but from the society in general. The door ought to be equally open to all; and I trust, for the credit of human nature, that we shall see examples of such vigorous plants flourishing in the soil of federal as well as of State legislation; but occasional instances of this sort will not render the reasoning founded upon the general course of things, less conclusive. The subject might be placed in several other lights that would all lead to the same result; and in particular it might be asked, What greater affinity or relation of interest can be conceived between the carpenter and blacksmith, and the linen manufacturer or stocking weaver, than between the merchant and either of them? It is notorious that there are often as great rivalships between different branches of the mechanic or manufacturing arts as there are between any of the departments of labor and industry; so that, unless the representative body were to be far more numerous than would be consistent with any idea of regularity or wisdom in its deliberations, it is impossible that what seems to be the spirit of the objection we have been considering should ever be realized in practice. But I forbear to dwell any longer on a matter which has hitherto worn too loose a garb to admit even of an accurate inspection of its real shape or tendency. There is another objection of a somewhat more precise nature that claims our attention. It has been asserted that a power of internal taxation in the national legislature could never be exercised with advantage, as well from the want of a sufficient knowledge of local circumstances, as from an interference between the revenue laws of the Union and of the particular States. The supposition of a want of proper knowledge seems to be entirely destitute of foundation. If any question is depending in a State legislature respecting one of the counties, which demands a knowledge of local details, how is it acquired? No doubt from the information of the members of the county. Cannot the like knowledge be obtained in the national legislature from the representatives of each State? And is it not to be presumed that the men who will generally be sent there will be possessed of the necessary degree of intelligence to be able to communicate that information? Is the knowledge of local circumstances, as applied to taxation, a minute topographical acquaintance with all the mountains, rivers, streams, highways, and bypaths in each State; or is it a general acquaintance with its situation and resources, with the state of its agriculture, commerce, manufactures, with the nature of its products and consumptions, with the different degrees and kinds of its wealth, property, and industry? Nations in general, even under governments of the more popular kind, usually commit the administration of their finances to single men or to boards composed of a few individuals, who digest and prepare, in the first instance, the plans of taxation, which are afterwards passed into laws by the authority of the sovereign or legislature. Inquisitive and enlightened statesmen are deemed everywhere best qualified to make a judicious selection of the objects proper for revenue; which is a clear indication, as far as the sense of mankind can have weight in the question, of the species of knowledge of local circumstances requisite to the purposes of taxation. The taxes intended to be comprised under the general denomination of internal taxes may be subdivided into those of the DIRECT and those of the INDIRECT kind. Though the objection be made to both, yet the reasoning upon it seems to be confined to the former branch. And indeed, as to the latter, by which must be understood duties and excises on articles of consumption, one is at a loss to conceive what can be the nature of the difficulties apprehended. The knowledge relating to them must evidently be of a kind that will either be suggested by the nature of the article itself, or can easily be procured from any wellinformed man, especially of the mercantile class. The circumstances that may distinguish its situation in one State from its situation in another must be few, simple, and easy to be comprehended. The principal thing to be attended to, would be to avoid those articles which had been previously appropriated to the use of a particular State; and there could be no difficulty in ascertaining the revenue system of each. This could always be known from the respective codes of laws, as well as from the information of the members from the several States. The objection, when applied to real property or to houses and lands, appears to have, at first sight, more foundation, but even in this view it will not bear a close examination. Land taxes are co monly laid in one of two modes, either by ACTUAL valuations, permanent or periodical, or by OCCASIONAL assessments, at the discretion, or according to the best judgment, of certain officers whose duty it is to make them. In either case, the EXECUTION of the business, which alone requires the knowledge of local details, must be devolved upon discreet persons in the character of commissioners or assessors, elected by the people or appointed by the government for the purpose. All that the law can do must be to name the persons or to prescribe the manner of their election or appointment, to fix their numbers and qualifications and to draw the general outlines of their powers and duties. And what is there in all this that cannot as well be performed by the national legislature as by a State legislature? The attention of either can only reach to general principles; local details, as already observed, must be referred to those who are to execute the plan. But there is a simple point of view in which this matter may be placed that must be altogether satisfactory. The national legislature can make use of the SYSTEM OF EACH STATE WITHIN THAT STATE. The method of laying and collecting this species of taxes in each State can, in all its parts, be adopted and employed by the federal government. Let it be recollected that the proportion of these taxes is not to be left to the discretion of the national legislature, but is to be determined by the numbers of each State, as described in the second section of the first article. An actual census or enumeration of the people must furnish the rule, a circumstance which effectually shuts the door to partiality or oppression. The abuse of this power of taxation seems to have been provided against with guarded circumspection. In addition to the precaution just mentioned, there is a provision that all duties, imposts, and excises shall be UNIFORM throughout the United States. It has been very properly observed by different speakers and writers on the side of the Constitution, that if the exercise of the power of internal taxation by the Union should be discovered on experiment to be really inconvenient, the federal government may then forbear the use of it, and have recourse to requisitions in its stead. By way of answer to this, it has been triumphantly asked, Why not in the first instance omit that ambiguous power, and rely upon the latter resource? Two solid answers may be given. The first is, that the exercise of that power, if convenient, will be preferable, because it will be more effectual; and it is impossible to prove in theory, or otherwise than by the experiment, that it cannot be advantageously exercised. The contrary, indeed, appears most probable. The second answer is, that the existence of such a power in the Constitution will have a strong influence in giving efficacy to requisitions. When the States know that the Union can apply itself without their agency, it will be a powerful motive for exertion on their part. As to the interference of the revenue laws of the Union, and of its members, we have already seen that there can be no clashing or repugnancy of authority. The laws cannot, therefore, in a legal sense, interfere with each other; and it is far from impossible to avoid an interference even in the policy of their different systems. An effectual expedient for this purpose will be, mutually, to abstain from those objects which either side may have first had recourse to. As neither can CONTROL the other, each will have an obvious and sensible interest in this reciprocal forbearance. And where there is an IMMEDIATE common interest, we may safely count upon its operation. When the particular debts of the States are done away, and their expenses come to be limited within their natural compass, the possibility almost of interference will vanish. A small land tax will answer the purpose of the States, and will be their most simple and most fit resource. Many spectres have been raised out of this power of internal taxation, to excite the apprehensions of the people: double sets of revenue officers, a duplication of their burdens by double taxations, and the frightful forms of odious and oppressive polltaxes, have been played off with all the ingenious dexterity of political legerdemain. As to the first point, there are two cases in which there can be no room for double sets of officers: one, where the right of imposing the tax is exclusively vested in the Union, which applies to the duties on imports; the other, where the object has not fallen under any State regulation or provision, which may be applicable to a variety of objects. In other cases, the probability is that the United States will either wholly abstain from the objects preoccupied for local purposes, or will make use of the State officers and State regulations for collecting the additional imposition. This will best answer the views of revenue, because it will save expense in the collection, and will best avoid any occasion of disgust to the State governments and to the people. At all events, here is a practicable expedient for avoiding such an inconvenience; and nothing more can be required than to show that evils predicted to not necessarily result from the plan. As to any argument derived from a supposed system of influence, it is a sufficient answer to say that it ought not to be presumed; but the supposition is susceptible of a more precise answer. If such a spirit should infest the councils of the Union, the most certain road to the accomplishment of its aim would be to employ the State officers as much as possible, and to attach them to the Union by an accumulation of their emoluments. This would serve to turn the tide of State influence into the channels of the national government, instead of making federal influence flow in an opposite and adverse current. But all suppositions of this kind are invidious, and ought to be banished from the consideration of the great question before the people. They can answer no other end than to cast a mist over the truth. As to the suggestion of double taxation, the answer is plain. The wants of the Union are to be supplied in one way or another; if to be done by the authority of the federal government, it will not be to be done by that of the State government. The quantity of taxes to be paid by the community must be the same in either case; with this advantage, if the provision is to be made by the Union that the capital resource of commercial imposts, which is the most convenient branch of revenue, can be prudently improved to a much greater extent under federal than under State regulation, and of course will render it less necessary to recur to more inconvenient methods; and with this further advantage, that as far as there may be any real difficulty in the exercise of the power of internal taxation, it will impose a disposition to greater care in the choice and arrangement of the means; and must naturally tend to make it a fixed point of policy in the national administration to go as far as may be practicable in making the luxury of the rich tributary to the public treasury, in order to diminish the necessity of those impositions which might create dissatisfaction in the poorer and most numerous classes of the society. Happy it is when the interest which the government has in the preservation of its own power, coincides with a proper distribution of the public burdens, and tends to guard the least wealthy part of the community from oppression! As to poll taxes, I, without scruple, confess my disapprobation of them; and though they have prevailed from an early period in those States1 which have uniformly been the most tenacious of their rights, I should lament to see them introduced into practice under the national government. But does it follow because there is a power to lay them that they will actually be laid? Every State in the Union has power to impose taxes of this kind; and yet in several of them they are unknown in practice. Are the State governments to be stigmatized as tyrannies, because they possess this power? If they are not, with what propriety can the like power justify such a charge against the national government, or even be urged as an obstacle to its adoption? As little friendly as I am to the species of imposition, I still feel a thorough conviction that the power of having recourse to it ought to exist in the federal government. There are certain emergencies of nations, in which expedients, that in the ordinary state of things ought to be forborne, become essential to the public weal. And the government, from the possibility of such emergencies, ought ever to have the option of making use of them. The real scarcity of objects in this country, which may be considered as productive sources of revenue, is a reason peculiar to itself, for not abridging the discretion of the national councils in this respect. There may exist certain critical and tempestuous conjunctures of the State, in which a poll tax may become an inestimable resource. And as I know nothing to exempt this portion of the globe from the common calamities that have befallen other parts of it, I acknowledge my aversion to every project that is calculated to disarm the government of a single weapon, which in any possible contingency might be usefully employed for the general defense and security. I have now gone through the examination of such of the powers proposed to be vested in the United States, which may be considered as having an immediate relation to the energy of the government; and have endeavored to answer the principal objections which have been made to them. I have passed over in silence those minor authorities, which are either too inconsiderable to have been thought worthy of the hostilities of the opponents of the Constitution, or of too manifest propriety to admit of controversy. The mass of judiciary power, however, might have claimed an investigation under this head, had it not been for the consideration that its organization and its extent may be more advantageously considered in connection. This has determined me to refer it to the branch of our inquiries upon which we shall next enter. PUBLIUS. 1 The New England States. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXVII. Concerning the Difficulties of the Convention in Devising a Proper Form of Government From the Daily Advertiser. Friday, January 11, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: In reviewing the defects of the existing Confederation, and showing that they cannot be supplied by a government of less energy than that before the public, several of the most important principles of the latter fell of course under consideration. But as the ultimate object of these papers is to determine clearly and fully the merits of this Constitution, and the expediency of adopting it, our plan cannot be complete without taking a more critical and thorough survey of the work of the convention, without examining it on all its sides, comparing it in all its parts, and calculating its probable effects. That this remaining task may be executed under impressions conducive to a just and fair result, some reflections must in this place be indulged, which candor previously suggests. It is a misfortune, inseparable from human affairs, that public measures are rarely investigated with that spirit of moderation which is essential to a just estimate of their real tendency to advance or obstruct the public good; and that this spirit is more apt to be diminished than promoted, by those occasions which require an unusual exercise of it. To those who have been led by experience to attend to this consideration, it could not appear surprising, that the act of the convention, which recommends so many important changes and innovations, which may be viewed in so many lights and relations, and which touches the springs of so many passions and interests, should find or excite dispositions unfriendly, both on one side and on the other, to a fair discussion and accurate judgment of its merits. In some, it has been too evident from their own publications, that they have scanned the proposed Constitution, not only with a predisposition to censure, but with a predetermination to condemn; as the language held by others betrays an opposite predetermination or bias, which must render their opinions also of little moment in the question. In placing, however, these different characters on a level, with respect to the weight of their opinions, I wish not to insinuate that there may not be a material difference in the purity of their intentions. It is but just to remark in favor of the latter description, that as our situation is universally admitted to be peculiarly critical, and to require indispensably that something should be done for our relief, the predetermined patron of what has been actually done may have taken his bias from the weight of these considerations, as well as from considerations of a sinister nature. The predetermined adversary, on the other hand, can have been governed by no venial motive whatever. The intentions of the first may be upright, as they may on the contrary be culpable. The views of the last cannot be upright, and must be culpable. But the truth is, that these papers are not addressed to persons falling under either of these characters. They solicit the attention of those only, who add to a sincere zeal for the happiness of their country, a temper favorable to a just estimate of the means of promoting it. Persons of this character will proceed to an examination of the plan submitted by the convention, not only without a disposition to find or to magnify faults; but will see the propriety of reflecting, that a faultless plan was not to be expected. Nor will they barely make allowances for the errors which may be chargeable on the fallibility to which the convention, as a body of men, were liable; but will keep in mind, that they themselves also are but men, and ought not to assume an infallibility in rejudging the fallible opinions of others. With equal readiness will it be perceived, that besides these inducements to candor, many allowances ought to be made for the difficulties inherent in the very nature of the undertaking referred to the convention. The novelty of the undertaking immediately strikes us. It has been shown in the course of these papers, that the existing Confederation is founded on principles which are fallacious; that we must consequently change this first foundation, and with it the superstructure resting upon it. It has been shown, that the other confederacies which could be consulted as precedents have been vitiated by the same erroneous principles, and can therefore furnish no other light than that of beacons, which give warning of the course to be shunned, without pointing out that which ought to be pursued. The most that the convention could do in such a situation, was to avoid the errors suggested by the past experience of other countries, as well as of our own; and to provide a convenient mode of rectifying their own errors, as future experiences may unfold them. Among the difficulties encountered by the convention, a very important one must have lain in combining the requisite stability and energy in government, with the inviolable attention due to liberty and to the republican form. Without substantially accomplishing this part of their undertaking, they would have very imperfectly fulfilled the object of their appointment, or the expectation of the public; yet that it could not be easily accomplished, will be denied by no one who is unwilling to betray his ignorance of the subject. Energy in government is essential to that security against external and internal danger, and to that prompt and salutary execution of the laws which enter into the very definition of good government. Stability in government is essential to national character and to the advantages annexed to it, as well as to that repose and confidence in the minds of the people, which are among the chief blessings of civil society. An irregular and mutable legislation is not more an evil in itself than it is odious to the people; and it may be pronounced with assurance that the people of this country, enlightened as they are with regard to the nature, and interested, as the great body of them are, in the effects of good government, will never be satisfied till some remedy be applied to the vicissitudes and uncertainties which characterize the State administrations. On comparing, however, these valuable ingredients with the vital principles of liberty, we must perceive at once the difficulty of mingling them together in their due proportions. The genius of republican liberty seems to demand on one side, not only that all power should be derived from the people, but that those intrusted with it should be kept in independence on the people, by a short duration of their appointments; and that even during this short period the trust should be placed not in a few, but a number of hands. Stability, on the contrary, requires that the hands in which power is lodged should continue for a length of time the same. A frequent change of men will result from a frequent return of elections; and a frequent change of measures from a frequent change of men: whilst energy in government requires not only a certain duration of power, but the execution of it by a single hand. How far the convention may have succeeded in this part of their work, will better appear on a more accurate view of it. From the cursory view here taken, it must clearly appear to have been an arduous part. Not less arduous must have been the task of marking the proper line of partition between the authority of the general and that of the State governments. Every man will be sensible of this difficulty, in proportion as he has been accustomed to contemplate and discriminate objects extensive and complicated in their nature. The faculties of the mind itself have never yet been distinguished and defined, with satisfactory precision, by all the efforts of the most acute and metaphysical philosophers. Sense, perception, judgment, desire, volition, memory, imagination, are found to be separated by such delicate shades and minute gradations that their boundaries have eluded the most subtle investigations, and remain a pregnant source of ingenious disquisition and controversy. The boundaries between the great kingdom of nature, and, still more, between the various provinces, and lesser portions, into which they are subdivided, afford another illustration of the same important truth. The most sagacious and laborious naturalists have never yet succeeded in tracing with certainty the line which separates the district of vegetable life from the neighboring region of unorganized matter, or which marks the termination of the former and the commencement of the animal empire. A still greater obscurity lies in the distinctive characters by which the objects in each of these great departments of nature have been arranged and assorted. When we pass from the works of nature, in which all the delineations are perfectly accurate, and appear to be otherwise only from the imperfection of the eye which surveys them, to the institutions of man, in which the obscurity arises as well from the object itself as from the organ by which it is contemplated, we must perceive the necessity of moderating still further our expectations and hopes from the efforts of human sagacity. Experience has instructed us that no skill in the science of government has yet been able to discriminate and define, with sufficient certainty, its three great provinces the legislative, executive, and judiciary; or even the privileges and powers of the different legislative branches. Questions daily occur in the course of practice, which prove the obscurity which reins in these subjects, and which puzzle the greatest adepts in political science. The experience of ages, with the continued and combined labors of the most enlightened legislatures and jurists, has been equally unsuccessful in delineating the several objects and limits of different codes of laws and different tribunals of justice. The precise extent of the common law, and the statute law, the maritime law, the ecclesiastical law, the law of corporations, and other local laws and customs, remains still to be clearly and finally established in Great Britain, where accuracy in such subjects has been more industriously pursued than in any other part of the world. The jurisdiction of her several courts, general and local, of law, of equity, of admiralty, etc., is not less a source of frequent and intricate discussions, sufficiently denoting the indeterminate limits by which they are respectively circumscribed. All new laws, though penned with the greatest technical skill, and passed on the fullest and most mature deliberation, are considered as more or less obscure and equivocal, until their meaning be liquidated and ascertained by a series of particular discussions and adjudications. Besides the obscurity arising from the complexity of objects, and the imperfection of the human faculties, the medium through which the conceptions of men are conveyed to each other adds a fresh embarrassment. The use of words is to express ideas. Perspicuity, therefore, requires not only that the ideas should be distinctly formed, but that they should be expressed by words distinctly and exclusively appropriate to them. But no language is so copious as to supply words and phrases for every complex idea, or so correct as not to include many equivocally denoting different ideas. Hence it must happen that however accurately objects may be discriminated in themselves, and however accurately the discrimination may be considered, the definition of them may be rendered inaccurate by the inaccuracy of the terms in which it is delivered. And this unavoidable inaccuracy must be greater or less, according to the complexity and novelty of the objects defined. When the Almighty himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful by the cloudy medium through which it is communicated. Here, then, are three sources of vague and incorrect definitions: indistinctness of the object, imperfection of the organ of conception, inadequateness of the vehicle of ideas. Any one of these must produce a certain degree of obscurity. The convention, in delineating the boundary between the federal and State jurisdictions, must have experienced the full effect of them all. To the difficulties already mentioned may be added the interfering pretensions of the larger and smaller States. We cannot err in supposing that the former would contend for a participation in the government, fully proportioned to their superior wealth and importance; and that the latter would not be less tenacious of the equality at present enjoyed by them. We may well suppose that neither side would entirely yield to the other, and consequently that the struggle could be terminated only by compromise. It is extremely probable, also, that after the ratio of representation had been adjusted, this very compromise must have produced a fresh struggle between the same parties, to give such a turn to the organization of the government, and to the distribution of its powers, as would increase the importance of the branches, in forming which they had respectively obtained the greatest share of influence. There are features in the Constitution which warrant each of these suppositions; and as far as either of them is well founded, it shows that the convention must have been compelled to sacrifice theoretical propriety to the force of extraneous considerations. Nor could it have been the large and small States only, which would marshal themselves in opposition to each other on various points. Other combinations, resulting from a difference of local position and policy, must have created additional difficulties. As every State may be divided into different districts, and its citizens into different classes, which give birth to contending interests and local jealousies, so the different parts of the United States are distinguished from each other by a variety of circumstances, which produce a like effect on a larger scale. And although this variety of interests, for reasons sufficiently explained in a former paper, may have a salutary influence on the administration of the government when formed, yet every one must be sensible of the contrary influence, which must have been experienced in the task of forming it. Would it be wonderful if, under the pressure of all these difficulties, the convention should have been forced into some deviations from that artificial structure and regular symmetry which an abstract view of the subject might lead an ingenious theorist to bestow on a Constitution planned in his closet or in his imagination? The real wonder is that so many difficulties should have been surmounted, and surmounted with a unanimity almost as unprecedented as it must have been unexpected. It is impossible for any man of candor to reflect on this circumstance without partaking of the astonishment. It is impossible for the man of pious reflection not to perceive in it a finger of that Almighty hand which has been so frequently and signally extended to our relief in the critical stages of the revolution. We had occasion, in a former paper, to take notice of the repeated trials which have been unsuccessfully made in the United Netherlands for reforming the baneful and notorious vices of their constitution. The history of almost all the great councils and consultations held among mankind for reconciling their discordant opinions, assuaging their mutual jealousies, and adjusting their respective interests, is a history of factions, contentions, and disappointments, and may be classed among the most dark and degraded pictures which display the infirmities and depravities of the human character. If, in a few scattered instances, a brighter aspect is presented, they serve only as exceptions to admonish us of the general truth; and by their lustre to darken the gloom of the adverse prospect to which they are contrasted. In revolving the causes from which these exceptions result, and applying them to the particular instances before us, we are necessarily led to two important conclusions. The first is, that the convention must have enjoyed, in a very singular degree, an exemption from the pestilential influence of party animosities the disease most incident to deliberative bodies, and most apt to contaminate their proceedings. The second conclusion is that all the deputations composing the convention were satisfactorily accommodated by the final act, or were induced to accede to it by a deep conviction of the necessity of sacrificing private opinions and partial interests to the public good, and by a despair of seeing this necessity diminished by delays or by new experiments. PUBLIUS THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXVIII. The Same Subject Continued, and the Incoherence of the Objections to the New Plan Exposed From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 15, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: It is not a little remarkable that in every case reported by ancient history, in which government has been established with deliberation and consent, the task of framing it has not been committed to an assembly of men, but has been performed by some individual citizen of preeminent wisdom and approved integrity. Minos, we learn, was the primitive founder of the government of Crete, as Zaleucus was of that of the Locrians. Theseus first, and after him Draco and Solon, instituted the government of Athens. Lycurgus was the lawgiver of Sparta. The foundation of the original government of Rome was laid by Romulus, and the work completed by two of his elective successors, Numa and Tullius Hostilius. On the abolition of royalty the consular administration was substituted by Brutus, who stepped forward with a project for such a reform, which, he alleged, had been prepared by Tullius Hostilius, and to which his address obtained the assent and ratification of the senate and people. This remark is applicable to confederate governments also. Amphictyon, we are told, was the author of that which bore his name. The Achaean league received its first birth from Achaeus, and its second from Aratus. What degree of agency these reputed lawgivers might have in their respective establishments, or how far they might be clothed with the legitimate authority of the people, cannot in every instance be ascertained. In some, however, the proceeding was strictly regular. Draco appears to have been intrusted by the people of Athens with indefinite powers to reform its government and laws. And Solon, according to Plutarch, was in a manner compelled, by the universal suffrage of his fellowcitizens, to take upon him the sole and absolute power of newmodeling the constitution. The proceedings under Lycurgus were less regular; but as far as the advocates for a regular reform could prevail, they all turned their eyes towards the single efforts of that celebrated patriot and sage, instead of seeking to bring about a revolution by the intervention of a deliberative body of citizens. Whence could it have proceeded, that a people, jealous as the Greeks were of their liberty, should so far abandon the rules of caution as to place their destiny in the hands of a single citizen? Whence could it have proceeded, that the Athenians, a people who would not suffer an army to be commanded by fewer than ten generals, and who required no other proof of danger to their liberties than the illustrious merit of a fellowcitizen, should consider one illustrious citizen as a more eligible depositary of the fortunes of themselves and their posterity, than a select body of citizens, from whose common deliberations more wisdom, as well as more safety, might have been expected? These questions cannot be fully answered, without supposing that the fears of discord and disunion among a number of counsellors exceeded the apprehension of treachery or incapacity in a single individual. History informs us, likewise, of the difficulties with which these celebrated reformers had to contend, as well as the expedients which they were obliged to employ in order to carry their reforms into effect. Solon, who seems to have indulged a more temporizing policy, confessed that he had not given to his countrymen the government best suited to their happiness, but most tolerable to their prejudices. And Lycurgus, more true to his object, was under the necessity of mixing a portion of violence with the authority of superstition, and of securing his final success by a voluntary renunciation, first of his country, and then of his life. If these lessons teach us, on one hand, to admire the improvement made by America on the ancient mode of preparing and establishing regular plans of government, they serve not less, on the other, to admonish us of the hazards and difficulties incident to such experiments, and of the great imprudence of unnecessarily multiplying them. Is it an unreasonable conjecture, that the errors which may be contained in the plan of the convention are such as have resulted rather from the defect of antecedent experience on this complicated and difficult subject, than from a want of accuracy or care in the investigation of it; and, consequently such as will not be ascertained until an actual trial shall have pointed them out? This conjecture is rendered probable, not only by many considerations of a general nature, but by the particular case of the Articles of Confederation. It is observable that among the numerous objections and amendments suggested by the several States, when these articles were submitted for their ratification, not one is found which alludes to the great and radical error which on actual trial has discovered itself. And if we except the observations which New Jersey was led to make, rather by her local situation, than by her peculiar foresight, it may be questioned whether a single suggestion was of sufficient moment to justify a revision of the system. There is abundant reason, nevertheless, to suppose that immaterial as these objections were, they would have been adhered to with a very dangerous inflexibility, in some States, had not a zeal for their opinions and supposed interests been stifled by the more powerful sentiment of selfpreservation. One State, we may remember, persisted for several years in refusing her concurrence, although the enemy remained the whole period at our gates, or rather in the very bowels of our country. Nor was her pliancy in the end effected by a less motive, than the fear of being chargeable with protracting the public calamities, and endangering the event of the contest. Every candid reader will make the proper reflections on these important facts. A patient who finds his disorder daily growing worse, and that an efficacious remedy can no longer be delayed without extreme danger, after coolly revolving his situation, and the characters of different physicians, selects and calls in such of them as he judges most capable of administering relief, and best entitled to his confidence. The physicians attend; the case of the patient is carefully examined; a consultation is held; they are unanimously agreed that the symptoms are critical, but that the case, with proper and timely relief, is so far from being desperate, that it may be made to issue in an improvement of his constitution. They are equally unanimous in prescribing the remedy, by which this happy effect is to be produced. The prescription is no sooner made known, however, than a number of persons interpose, and, without denying the reality or danger of the disorder, assure the patient that the prescription will be poison to his constitution, and forbid him, under pain of certain death, to make use of it. Might not the patient reasonably demand, before he ventured to follow this advice, that the authors of it should at least agree among themselves on some other remedy to be substituted? And if he found them differing as much from one another as from his first counsellors, would he not act prudently in trying the experiment unanimously recommended by the latter, rather than be hearkening to those who could neither deny the necessity of a speedy remedy, nor agree in proposing one? Such a patient and in such a situation is America at this moment. She has been sensible of her malady. She has obtained a regular and unanimous advice from men of her own deliberate choice. And she is warned by others against following this advice under pain of the most fatal consequences. Do the monitors deny the reality of her danger? No. Do they deny the necessity of some speedy and powerful remedy? No. Are they agreed, are any two of them agreed, in their objections to the remedy proposed, or in the proper one to be substituted? Let them speak for themselves. This one tells us that the proposed Constitution ought to be rejected, because it is not a confederation of the States, but a government over individuals. Another admits that it ought to be a government over individuals to a certain extent, but by no means to the extent proposed. A third does not object to the government over individuals, or to the extent proposed, but to the want of a bill of rights. A fourth concurs in the absolute necessity of a bill of rights, but contends that it ought to be declaratory, not of the personal rights of individuals, but of the rights reserved to the States in their political capacity. A fifth is of opinion that a bill of rights of any sort would be superfluous and misplaced, and that the plan would be unexceptionable but for the fatal power of regulating the times and places of election. An objector in a large State exclaims loudly against the unreasonable equality of representation in the Senate. An objector in a small State is equally loud against the dangerous inequality in the House of Representatives. From this quarter, we are alarmed with the amazing expense, from the number of persons who are to administer the new government. From another quarter, and sometimes from the same quarter, on another occasion, the cry is that the Congress will be but a shadow of a representation, and that the government would be far less objectionable if the number and the expense were doubled. A patriot in a State that does not import or export, discerns insuperable objections against the power of direct taxation. The patriotic adversary in a State of great exports and imports, is not less dissatisfied that the whole burden of taxes may be thrown on consumption. This politician discovers in the Constitution a direct and irresistible tendency to monarchy; that is equally sure it will end in aristocracy. Another is puzzled to say which of these shapes it will ultimately assume, but sees clearly it must be one or other of them; whilst a fourth is not wanting, who with no less confidence affirms that the Constitution is so far from having a bias towards either of these dangers, that the weight on that side will not be sufficient to keep it upright and firm against its opposite propensities. With another class of adversaries to the Constitution the language is that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are intermixed in such a manner as to contradict all the ideas of regular government and all the requisite precautions in favor of liberty. Whilst this objection circulates in vague and general expressions, there are but a few who lend their sanction to it. Let each one come forward with his particular explanation, and scarce any two are exactly agreed upon the subject. In the eyes of one the junction of the Senate with the President in the responsible function of appointing to offices, instead of vesting this executive power in the Executive alone, is the vicious part of the organization. To another, the exclusion of the House of Representatives, whose numbers alone could be a due security against corruption and partiality in the exercise of such a power, is equally obnoxious. With another, the admission of the President into any share of a power which ever must be a dangerous engine in the hands of the executive magistrate, is an unpardonable violation of the maxims of republican jealousy. No part of the arrangement, according to some, is more inadmissible than the trial of impeachments by the Senate, which is alternately a member both of the legislative and executive departments, when this power so evidently belonged to the judiciary department. We concur fully, reply others, in the objection to this part of the plan, but we can never agree that a reference of impeachments to the judiciary authority would be an amendment of the error. Our principal dislike to the organization arises from the extensive powers already lodged in that department. Even among the zealous patrons of a council of state the most irreconcilable variance is discovered concerning the mode in which it ought to be constituted. The demand of one gentleman is, that the council should consist of a small number to be appointed by the most numerous branch of the legislature. Another would prefer a larger number, and considers it as a fundamental condition that the appointment should be made by the President himself. As it can give no umbrage to the writers against the plan of the federal Constitution, let us suppose, that as they are the most zealous, so they are also the most sagacious, of those who think the late convention were unequal to the task assigned them, and that a wiser and better plan might and ought to be substituted. Let us further suppose that their country should concur, both in this favorable opinion of their merits, and in their unfavorable opinion of the convention; and should accordingly proceed to form them into a second convention, with full powers, and for the express purpose of revising and remoulding the work of the first. Were the experiment to be seriously made, though it required some effort to view it seriously even in fiction, I leave it to be decided by the sample of opinions just exhibited, whether, with all their enmity to their predecessors, they would, in any one point, depart so widely from their example, as in the discord and ferment that would mark their own deliberations; and whether the Constitution, now before the public, would not stand as fair a chance for immortality, as Lycurgus gave to that of Sparta, by making its change to depend on his own return from exile and death, if it were to be immediately adopted, and were to continue in force, not until a BETTER, but until ANOTHER should be agreed upon by this new assembly of lawgivers. It is a matter both of wonder and regret, that those who raise so many objections against the new Constitution should never call to mind the defects of that which is to be exchanged for it. It is not necessary that the former should be perfect; it is sufficient that the latter is more imperfect. No man would refuse to give brass for silver or gold, because the latter had some alloy in it. No man would refuse to quit a shattered and tottering habitation for a firm and commodious building, because the latter had not a porch to it, or because some of the rooms might be a little larger or smaller, or the ceilings a little higher or lower than his fancy would have planned them. But waiving illustrations of this sort, is it not manifest that most of the capital objections urged against the new system lie with tenfold weight against the existing Confederation? Is an indefinite power to raise money dangerous in the hands of the federal government? The present Congress can make requisitions to any amount they please, and the States are constitutionally bound to furnish them; they can emit bills of credit as long as they will pay for the paper; they can borrow, both abroad and at home, as long as a shilling will be lent. Is an indefinite power to raise troops dangerous? The Confederation gives to Congress that power also; and they have already begun to make use of it. Is it improper and unsafe to intermix the different powers of government in the same body of men? Congress, a single body of men, are the sole depositary of all the federal powers. Is it particularly dangerous to give the keys of the treasury, and the command of the army, into the same hands? The Confederation places them both in the hands of Congress. Is a bill of rights essential to liberty? The Confederation has no bill of rights. Is it an objection against the new Constitution, that it empowers the Senate, with the concurrence of the Executive, to make treaties which are to be the laws of the land? The existing Congress, without any such control, can make treaties which they themselves have declared, and most of the States have recognized, to be the supreme law of the land. Is the importation of slaves permitted by the new Constitution for twenty years? By the old it is permitted forever. I shall be told, that however dangerous this mixture of powers may be in theory, it is rendered harmless by the dependence of Congress on the State for the means of carrying them into practice; that however large the mass of powers may be, it is in fact a lifeless mass. Then, say I, in the first place, that the Confederation is chargeable with the still greater folly of declaring certain powers in the federal government to be absolutely necessary, and at the same time rendering them absolutely nugatory; and, in the next place, that if the Union is to continue, and no better government be substituted, effective powers must either be granted to, or assumed by, the existing Congress; in either of which events, the contrast just stated will hold good. But this is not all. Out of this lifeless mass has already grown an excrescent power, which tends to realize all the dangers that can be apprehended from a defective construction of the supreme government of the Union. It is now no longer a point of speculation and hope, that the Western territory is a mine of vast wealth to the United States; and although it is not of such a nature as to extricate them from their present distresses, or for some time to come, to yield any regular supplies for the public expenses, yet must it hereafter be able, under proper management, both to effect a gradual discharge of the domestic debt, and to furnish, for a certain period, liberal tributes to the federal treasury. A very large proportion of this fund has been already surrendered by individual States; and it may with reason be expected that the remaining States will not persist in withholding similar proofs of their equity and generosity. We may calculate, therefore, that a rich and fertile country, of an area equal to the inhabited extent of the United States, will soon become a national stock. Congress have assumed the administration of this stock. They have begun to render it productive. Congress have undertaken to do more: they have proceeded to form new States, to erect temporary governments, to appoint officers for them, and to prescribe the conditions on which such States shall be admitted into the Confederacy. All this has been done; and done without the least color of constitutional authority. Yet no blame has been whispered; no alarm has been sounded. A GREAT and INDEPENDENT fund of revenue is passing into the hands of a SINGLE BODY of men, who can RAISE TROOPS to an INDEFINITE NUMBER, and appropriate money to their support for an INDEFINITE PERIOD OF TIME. And yet there are men, who have not only been silent spectators of this prospect, but who are advocates for the system which exhibits it; and, at the same time, urge against the new system the objections which we have heard. Would they not act with more consistency, in urging the establishment of the latter, as no less necessary to guard the Union against the future powers and resources of a body constructed like the existing Congress, than to save it from the dangers threatened by the present impotency of that Assembly? I mean not, by any thing here said, to throw censure on the measures which have been pursued by Congress. I am sensible they could not have done otherwise. The public interest, the necessity of the case, imposed upon them the task of overleaping their constitutional limits. But is not the fact an alarming proof of the danger resulting from a government which does not possess regular powers commensurate to its objects? A dissolution or usurpation is the dreadful dilemma to which it is continually exposed. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XXXIX. The Conformity of the Plan to Republican Principles For the Independent Journal. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The last paper having concluded the observations which were meant to introduce a candid survey of the plan of government reported by the convention, we now proceed to the execution of that part of our undertaking. The first question that offers itself is, whether the general form and aspect of the government be strictly republican. It is evident that no other form would be reconcilable with the genius of the people of America; with the fundamental principles of the Revolution; or with that honorable determination which animates every votary of freedom, to rest all our political experiments on the capacity of mankind for selfgovernment. If the plan of the convention, therefore, be found to depart from the republican character, its advocates must abandon it as no longer defensible. What, then, are the distinctive characters of the republican form? Were an answer to this question to be sought, not by recurring to principles, but in the application of the term by political writers, to the constitution of different States, no satisfactory one would ever be found. Holland, in which no particle of the supreme authority is derived from the people, has passed almost universally under the denomination of a republic. The same title has been bestowed on Venice, where absolute power over the great body of the people is exercised, in the most absolute manner, by a small body of hereditary nobles. Poland, which is a mixture of aristocracy and of monarchy in their worst forms, has been dignified with the same appellation. The government of England, which has one republican branch only, combined with an hereditary aristocracy and monarchy, has, with equal impropriety, been frequently placed on the list of republics. These examples, which are nearly as dissimilar to each other as to a genuine republic, show the extreme inaccuracy with which the term has been used in political disquisitions. If we resort for a criterion to the different principles on which different forms of government are established, we may define a republic to be, or at least may bestow that name on, a government which derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their offices during pleasure, for a limited period, or during good behavior. It is ESSENTIAL to such a government that it be derived from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable proportion, or a favored class of it; otherwise a handful of tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans, and claim for their government the honorable title of republic. It is SUFFICIENT for such a government that the persons administering it be appointed, either directly or indirectly, by the people; and that they hold their appointments by either of the tenures just specified; otherwise every government in the United States, as well as every other popular government that has been or can be well organized or well executed, would be degraded from the republican character. According to the constitution of every State in the Union, some or other of the officers of government are appointed indirectly only by the people. According to most of them, the chief magistrate himself is so appointed. And according to one, this mode of appointment is extended to one of the coordinate branches of the legislature. According to all the constitutions, also, the tenure of the highest offices is extended to a definite period, and in many instances, both within the legislative and executive departments, to a period of years. According to the provisions of most of the constitutions, again, as well as according to the most respectable and received opinions on the subject, the members of the judiciary department are to retain their offices by the firm tenure of good behavior. On comparing the Constitution planned by the convention with the standard here fixed, we perceive at once that it is, in the most rigid sense, conformable to it. The House of Representatives, like that of one branch at least of all the State legislatures, is elected immediately by the great body of the people. The Senate, like the present Congress, and the Senate of Maryland, derives its appointment indirectly from the people. The President is indirectly derived from the choice of the people, according to the example in most of the States. Even the judges, with all other officers of the Union, will, as in the several States, be the choice, though a remote choice, of the people themselves, the duration of the appointments is equally conformable to the republican standard, and to the model of State constitutions The House of Representatives is periodically elective, as in all the States; and for the period of two years, as in the State of South Carolina. The Senate is elective, for the period of six years; which is but one year more than the period of the Senate of Maryland, and but two more than that of the Senates of New York and Virginia. The President is to continue in office for the period of four years; as in New York and Delaware, the chief magistrate is elected for three years, and in South Carolina for two years. In the other States the election is annual. In several of the States, however, no constitutional provision is made for the impeachment of the chief magistrate. And in Delaware and Virginia he is not impeachable till out of office. The President of the United States is impeachable at any time during his continuance in office. The tenure by which the judges are to hold their places, is, as it unquestionably ought to be, that of good behavior. The tenure of the ministerial offices generally, will be a subject of legal regulation, conformably to the reason of the case and the example of the State constitutions. Could any further proof be required of the republican complexion of this system, the most decisive one might be found in its absolute prohibition of titles of nobility, both under the federal and the State governments; and in its express guaranty of the republican form to each of the latter. But it was not sufficient, say the adversaries of the proposed Constitution, for the convention to adhere to the republican form. They ought, with equal care, to have preserved the FEDERAL form, which regards the Union as a CONFEDERACY of sovereign states; instead of which, they have framed a NATIONAL government, which regards the Union as a CONSOLIDATION of the States. And it is asked by what authority this bold and radical innovation was undertaken? The handle which has been made of this objection requires that it should be examined with some precision. Without inquiring into the accuracy of the distinction on which the objection is founded, it will be necessary to a just estimate of its force, first, to ascertain the real character of the government in question; secondly, to inquire how far the convention were authorized to propose such a government; and thirdly, how far the duty they owed to their country could supply any defect of regular authority. First. In order to ascertain the real character of the government, it may be considered in relation to the foundation on which it is to be established; to the sources from which its ordinary powers are to be drawn; to the operation of those powers; to the extent of them; and to the authority by which future changes in the government are to be introduced. On examining the first relation, it appears, on one hand, that the Constitution is to be founded on the assent and ratification of the people of America, given by deputies elected for the special purpose; but, on the other, that this assent and ratification is to be given by the people, not as individuals composing one entire nation, but as composing the distinct and independent States to which they respectively belong. It is to be the assent and ratification of the several States, derived from the supreme authority in each State, the authority of the people themselves. The act, therefore, establishing the Constitution, will not be a NATIONAL, but a FEDERAL act. That it will be a federal and not a national act, as these terms are understood by the objectors; the act of the people, as forming so many independent States, not as forming one aggregate nation, is obvious from this single consideration, that it is to result neither from the decision of a MAJORITY of the people of the Union, nor from that of a MAJORITY of the States. It must result from the UNANIMOUS assent of the several States that are parties to it, differing no otherwise from their ordinary assent than in its being expressed, not by the legislative authority, but by that of the people themselves. Were the people regarded in this transaction as forming one nation, the will of the majority of the whole people of the United States would bind the minority, in the same manner as the majority in each State must bind the minority; and the will of the majority must be determined either by a comparison of the individual votes, or by considering the will of the majority of the States as evidence of the will of a majority of the people of the United States. Neither of these rules have been adopted. Each State, in ratifying the Constitution, is considered as a sovereign body, independent of all others, and only to be bound by its own voluntary act. In this relation, then, the new Constitution will, if established, be a FEDERAL, and not a NATIONAL constitution. The next relation is, to the sources from which the ordinary powers of government are to be derived. The House of Representatives will derive its powers from the people of America; and the people will be represented in the same proportion, and on the same principle, as they are in the legislature of a particular State. So far the government is NATIONAL, not FEDERAL. The Senate, on the other hand, will derive its powers from the States, as political and coequal societies; and these will be represented on the principle of equality in the Senate, as they now are in the existing Congress. So far the government is FEDERAL, not NATIONAL. The executive power will be derived from a very compound source. The immediate election of the President is to be made by the States in their political characters. The votes allotted to them are in a compound ratio, which considers them partly as distinct and coequal societies, partly as unequal members of the same society. The eventual election, again, is to be made by that branch of the legislature which consists of the national representatives; but in this particular act they are to be thrown into the form of individual delegations, from so many distinct and coequal bodies politic. From this aspect of the government it appears to be of a mixed character, presenting at least as many FEDERAL as NATIONAL features. The difference between a federal and national government, as it relates to the OPERATION OF THE GOVERNMENT, is supposed to consist in this, that in the former the powers operate on the political bodies composing the Confederacy, in their political capacities; in the latter, on the individual citizens composing the nation, in their individual capacities. On trying the Constitution by this criterion, it falls under the NATIONAL, not the FEDERAL character; though perhaps not so completely as has been understood. In several cases, and particularly in the trial of controversies to which States may be parties, they must be viewed and proceeded against in their collective and political capacities only. So far the national countenance of the government on this side seems to be disfigured by a few federal features. But this blemish is perhaps unavoidable in any plan; and the operation of the government on the people, in their individual capacities, in its ordinary and most essential proceedings, may, on the whole, designate it, in this relation, a NATIONAL government. But if the government be national with regard to the OPERATION of its powers, it changes its aspect again when we contemplate it in relation to the EXTENT of its powers. The idea of a national government involves in it, not only an authority over the individual citizens, but an indefinite supremacy over all persons and things, so far as they are objects of lawful government. Among a people consolidated into one nation, this supremacy is completely vested in the national legislature. Among communities united for particular purposes, it is vested partly in the general and partly in the municipal legislatures. In the former case, all local authorities are subordinate to the supreme; and may be controlled, directed, or abolished by it at pleasure. In the latter, the local or municipal authorities form distinct and independent portions of the supremacy, no more subject, within their respective spheres, to the general authority, than the general authority is subject to them, within its own sphere. In this relation, then, the proposed government cannot be deemed a NATIONAL one; since its jurisdiction extends to certain enumerated objects only, and leaves to the several States a residuary and inviolable sovereignty over all other objects. It is true that in controversies relating to the boundary between the two jurisdictions, the tribunal which is ultimately to decide, is to be established under the general government. But this does not change the principle of the case. The decision is to be impartially made, according to the rules of the Constitution; and all the usual and most effectual precautions are taken to secure this impartiality. Some such tribunal is clearly essential to prevent an appeal to the sword and a dissolution of the compact; and that it ought to be established under the general rather than under the local governments, or, to speak more properly, that it could be safely established under the first alone, is a position not likely to be combated. If we try the Constitution by its last relation to the authority by which amendments are to be made, we find it neither wholly NATIONAL nor wholly FEDERAL. Were it wholly national, the supreme and ultimate authority would reside in the MAJORITY of the people of the Union; and this authority would be competent at all times, like that of a majority of every national society, to alter or abolish its established government. Were it wholly federal, on the other hand, the concurrence of each State in the Union would be essential to every alteration that would be binding on all. The mode provided by the plan of the convention is not founded on either of these principles. In requiring more than a majority, and principles. In requiring more than a majority, and particularly in computing the proportion by STATES, not by CITIZENS, it departs from the NATIONAL and advances towards the FEDERAL character; in rendering the concurrence of less than the whole number of States sufficient, it loses again the FEDERAL and partakes of the NATIONAL character. The proposed Constitution, therefore, is, in strictness, neither a national nor a federal Constitution, but a composition of both. In its foundation it is federal, not national; in the sources from which the ordinary powers of the government are drawn, it is partly federal and partly national; in the operation of these powers, it is national, not federal; in the extent of them, again, it is federal, not national; and, finally, in the authoritative mode of introducing amendments, it is neither wholly federal nor wholly national. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XL. The Powers of the Convention to Form a Mixed Government Examined and Sustained From the New York Packet. Friday, January 18, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The second point to be examined is, whether the convention were authorized to frame and propose this mixed Constitution. The powers of the convention ought, in strictness, to be determined by an inspection of the commissions given to the members by their respective constituents. As all of these, however, had reference, either to the recommendation from the meeting at Annapolis, in September, 1786, or to that from Congress, in February, 1787, it will be sufficient to recur to these particular acts. The act from Annapolis recommends the appointment of commissioners to take into consideration the situation of the United States; to devise SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS as shall appear to them necessary to render the Constitution of the federal government ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF THE UNION; and to report such an act for that purpose, to the United States in Congress assembled, as when agreed to by them, and afterwards confirmed by the legislature of every State, will effectually provide for the same. The recommendatory act of Congress is in the words following: WHEREAS, There is provision in the articles of Confederation and perpetual Union, for making alterations therein, by the assent of a Congress of the United States, and of the legislatures of the several States; and whereas experience hath evinced, that there are defects in the present Confederation; as a mean to remedy which, several of the States, and PARTICULARLY THE STATE OF NEW YORK, by express instructions to their delegates in Congress, have suggested a convention for the purposes expressed in the following resolution; and such convention appearing to be the most probable mean of establishing in these States A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT: Resolved, That in the opinion of Congress it is expedient, that on the second Monday of May next a convention of delegates, who shall have been appointed by the several States, be held at Philadelphia, for the sole and express purpose OF REVISING THE ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, and reporting to Congress and the several legislatures such ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS THEREIN, as shall, when agreed to in Congress, and confirmed by the States, render the federal Constitution ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT AND THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION. From these two acts, it appears, 1st, that the object of the convention was to establish, in these States, A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT; 2d, that this government was to be such as would be ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT and THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION; 3d, that these purposes were to be effected by ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS IN THE ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, as it is expressed in the act of Congress, or by SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS AS SHOULD APPEAR NECESSARY, as it stands in the recommendatory act from Annapolis; 4th, that the alterations and provisions were to be reported to Congress, and to the States, in order to be agreed to by the former and confirmed by the latter. From a comparison and fair construction of these several modes of expression, is to be deduced the authority under which the convention acted. They were to frame a NATIONAL GOVERNMENT, adequate to the EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT, and OF THE UNION; and to reduce the articles of Confederation into such form as to accomplish these purposes. There are two rules of construction, dictated by plain reason, as well as founded on legal axioms. The one is, that every part of the expression ought, if possible, to be allowed some meaning, and be made to conspire to some common end. The other is, that where the several parts cannot be made to coincide, the less important should give way to the more important part; the means should be sacrificed to the end, rather than the end to the means. Suppose, then, that the expressions defining the authority of the convention were irreconcilably at variance with each other; that a NATIONAL and ADEQUATE GOVERNMENT could not possibly, in the judgment of the convention, be affected by ALTERATIONS and PROVISIONS in the ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION; which part of the definition ought to have been embraced, and which rejected? Which was the more important, which the less important part? Which the end; which the means? Let the most scrupulous expositors of delegated powers; let the most inveterate objectors against those exercised by the convention, answer these questions. Let them declare, whether it was of most importance to the happiness of the people of America, that the articles of Confederation should be disregarded, and an adequate government be provided, and the Union preserved; or that an adequate government should be omitted, and the articles of Confederation preserved. Let them declare, whether the preservation of these articles was the end, for securing which a reform of the government was to be introduced as the means; or whether the establishment of a government, adequate to the national happiness, was the end at which these articles themselves originally aimed, and to which they ought, as insufficient means, to have been sacrificed. But is it necessary to suppose that these expressions are absolutely irreconcilable to each other; that no ALTERATIONS or PROVISIONS in THE ARTICLES OF THE CONFEDERATION could possibly mould them into a national and adequate government; into such a government as has been proposed by the convention? No stress, it is presumed, will, in this case, be laid on the TITLE; a change of that could never be deemed an exercise of ungranted power. ALTERATIONS in the body of the instrument are expressly authorized. NEW PROVISIONS therein are also expressly authorized. Here then is a power to change the title; to insert new articles; to alter old ones. Must it of necessity be admitted that this power is infringed, so long as a part of the old articles remain? Those who maintain the affirmative ought at least to mark the boundary between authorized and usurped innovations; between that degree of change which lies within the compass of ALTERATIONS AND FURTHER PROVISIONS, and that which amounts to a TRANSMUTATION of the government. Will it be said that the alterations ought not to have touched the substance of the Confederation? The States would never have appointed a convention with so much solemnity, nor described its objects with so much latitude, if some SUBSTANTIAL reform had not been in contemplation. Will it be said that the FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES of the Confederation were not within the purview of the convention, and ought not to have been varied? I ask, What are these principles? Do they require that, in the establishment of the Constitution, the States should be regarded as distinct and independent sovereigns? They are so regarded by the Constitution proposed. Do they require that the members of the government should derive their appointment from the legislatures, not from the people of the States? One branch of the new government is to be appointed by these legislatures; and under the Confederation, the delegates to Congress MAY ALL be appointed immediately by the people, and in two States1 are actually so appointed. Do they require that the powers of the government should act on the States, and not immediately on individuals? In some instances, as has been shown, the powers of the new government will act on the States in their collective characters. In some instances, also, those of the existing government act immediately on individuals. In cases of capture; of piracy; of the post office; of coins, weights, and measures; of trade with the Indians; of claims under grants of land by different States; and, above all, in the case of trials by courtsmarshal in the army and navy, by which death may be inflicted without the intervention of a jury, or even of a civil magistrate; in all these cases the powers of the Confederation operate immediately on the persons and interests of individual citizens. Do these fundamental principles require, particularly, that no tax should be levied without the intermediate agency of the States? The Confederation itself authorizes a direct tax, to a certain extent, on the post office. The power of coinage has been so construed by Congress as to levy a tribute immediately from that source also. But pretermitting these instances, was it not an acknowledged object of the convention and the universal expectation of the people, that the regulation of trade should be submitted to the general government in such a form as would render it an immediate source of general revenue? Had not Congress repeatedly recommended this measure as not inconsistent with the fundamental principles of the Confederation? Had not every State but one; had not New York herself, so far complied with the plan of Congress as to recognize the PRINCIPLE of the innovation? Do these principles, in fine, require that the powers of the general government should be limited, and that, beyond this limit, the States should be left in possession of their sovereignty and independence? We have seen that in the new government, as in the old, the general powers are limited; and that the States, in all unenumerated cases, are left in the enjoyment of their sovereign and independent jurisdiction. The truth is, that the great principles of the Constitution proposed by the convention may be considered less as absolutely new, than as the expansion of principles which are found in the articles of Confederation. The misfortune under the latter system has been, that these principles are so feeble and confined as to justify all the charges of inefficiency which have been urged against it, and to require a degree of enlargement which gives to the new system the aspect of an entire transformation of the old. In one particular it is admitted that the convention have departed from the tenor of their commission. Instead of reporting a plan requiring the confirmation OF THE LEGISLATURES OF ALL THE STATES, they have reported a plan which is to be confirmed by the PEOPLE, and may be carried into effect by NINE STATES ONLY. It is worthy of remark that this objection, though the most plausible, has been the least urged in the publications which have swarmed against the convention. The forbearance can only have proceeded from an irresistible conviction of the absurdity of subjecting the fate of twelve States to the perverseness or corruption of a thirteenth; from the example of inflexible opposition given by a MAJORITY of one sixtieth of the people of America to a measure approved and called for by the voice of twelve States, comprising fiftynine sixtieths of the people an example still fresh in the memory and indignation of every citizen who has felt for the wounded honor and prosperity of his country. As this objection, therefore, has been in a manner waived by those who have criticised the powers of the convention, I dismiss it without further observation. The THIRD point to be inquired into is, how far considerations of duty arising out of the case itself could have supplied any defect of regular authority. In the preceding inquiries the powers of the convention have been analyzed and tried with the same rigor, and by the same rules, as if they had been real and final powers for the establishment of a Constitution for the United States. We have seen in what manner they have borne the trial even on that supposition. It is time now to recollect that the powers were merely advisory and recommendatory; that they were so meant by the States, and so understood by the convention; and that the latter have accordingly planned and proposed a Constitution which is to be of no more consequence than the paper on which it is written, unless it be stamped with the approbation of those to whom it is addressed. This reflection places the subject in a point of view altogether different, and will enable us to judge with propriety of the course taken by the convention. Let us view the ground on which the convention stood. It may be collected from their proceedings, that they were deeply and unanimously impressed with the crisis, which had led their country almost with one voice to make so singular and solemn an experiment for correcting the errors of a system by which this crisis had been produced; that they were no less deeply and unanimously convinced that such a reform as they have proposed was absolutely necessary to effect the purposes of their appointment. It could not be unknown to them that the hopes and expectations of the great body of citizens, throughout this great empire, were turned with the keenest anxiety to the event of their deliberations. They had every reason to believe that the contrary sentiments agitated the minds and bosoms of every external and internal foe to the liberty and prosperity of the United States. They had seen in the origin and progress of the experiment, the alacrity with which the PROPOSITION, made by a single State (Virginia), towards a partial amendment of the Confederation, had been attended to and promoted. They had seen the LIBERTY ASSUMED by a VERY FEW deputies from a VERY FEW States, convened at Annapolis, of recommending a great and critical object, wholly foreign to their commission, not only justified by the public opinion, but actually carried into effect by twelve out of the thirteen States. They had seen, in a variety of instances, assumptions by Congress, not only of recommendatory, but of operative, powers, warranted, in the public estimation, by occasions and objects infinitely less urgent than those by which their conduct was to be governed. They must have reflected, that in all great changes of established governments, forms ought to give way to substance; that a rigid adherence in such cases to the former, would render nominal and nugatory the transcendent and precious right of the people to abolish or alter their governments as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness,2 since it is impossible for the people spontaneously and universally to move in concert towards their object; and it is therefore essential that such changes be instituted by some INFORMAL AND UNAUTHORIZED PROPOSITIONS, made by some patriotic and respectable citizen or number of citizens. They must have recollected that it was by this irregular and assumed privilege of proposing to the people plans for their safety and happiness, that the States were first united against the danger with which they were threatened by their ancient government; that committees and congresses were formed for concentrating their efforts and defending their rights; and that CONVENTIONS were ELECTED in THE SEVERAL STATES for establishing the constitutions under which they are now governed; nor could it have been forgotten that no little illtimed scruples, no zeal for adhering to ordinary forms, were anywhere seen, except in those who wished to indulge, under these masks, their secret enmity to the substance contended for. They must have borne in mind, that as the plan to be framed and proposed was to be submitted TO THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES, the disapprobation of this supreme authority would destroy it forever; its approbation blot out antecedent errors and irregularities. It might even have occurred to them, that where a disposition to cavil prevailed, their neglect to execute the degree of power vested in them, and still more their recommendation of any measure whatever, not warranted by their commission, would not less excite animadversion, than a recommendation at once of a measure fully commensurate to the national exigencies. Had the convention, under all these impressions, and in the midst of all these considerations, instead of exercising a manly confidence in their country, by whose confidence they had been so peculiarly distinguished, and of pointing out a system capable, in their judgment, of securing its happiness, taken the cold and sullen resolution of disappointing its ardent hopes, of sacrificing substance to forms, of committing the dearest interests of their country to the uncertainties of delay and the hazard of events, let me ask the man who can raise his mind to one elevated conception, who can awaken in his bosom one patriotic emotion, what judgment ought to have been pronounced by the impartial world, by the friends of mankind, by every virtuous citizen, on the conduct and character of this assembly? Or if there be a man whose propensity to condemn is susceptible of no control, let me then ask what sentence he has in reserve for the twelve States who USURPED THE POWER of sending deputies to the convention, a body utterly unknown to their constitutions; for Congress, who recommended the appointment of this body, equally unknown to the Confederation; and for the State of New York, in particular, which first urged and then complied with this unauthorized interposition? But that the objectors may be disarmed of every pretext, it shall be granted for a moment that the convention were neither authorized by their commission, nor justified by circumstances in proposing a Constitution for their country: does it follow that the Constitution ought, for that reason alone, to be rejected? If, according to the noble precept, it be lawful to accept good advice even from an enemy, shall we set the ignoble example of refusing such advice even when it is offered by our friends? The prudent inquiry, in all cases, ought surely to be, not so much FROM WHOM the advice comes, as whether the advice be GOOD. The sum of what has been here advanced and proved is, that the charge against the convention of exceeding their powers, except in one instance little urged by the objectors, has no foundation to support it; that if they had exceeded their powers, they were not only warranted, but required, as the confidential servants of their country, by the circumstances in which they were placed, to exercise the liberty which they assume; and that finally, if they had violated both their powers and their obligations, in proposing a Constitution, this ought nevertheless to be embraced, if it be calculated to accomplish the views and happiness of the people of America. How far this character is due to the Constitution, is the subject under investigation. PUBLIUS. 1 Connecticut and Rhode Island. 2 Declaration of Independence. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLI. General View of the Powers Conferred by The Constitution For the Independent Journal. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The Constitution proposed by the convention may be considered under two general points of view. The FIRST relates to the sum or quantity of power which it vests in the government, including the restraints imposed on the States. The SECOND, to the particular structure of the government, and the distribution of this power among its several branches. Under the FIRST view of the subject, two important questions arise: 1. Whether any part of the powers transferred to the general government be unnecessary or improper? 2. Whether the entire mass of them be dangerous to the portion of jurisdiction left in the several States? Is the aggregate power of the general government greater than ought to have been vested in it? This is the FIRST question. It cannot have escaped those who have attended with candor to the arguments employed against the extensive powers of the government, that the authors of them have very little considered how far these powers were necessary means of attaining a necessary end. They have chosen rather to dwell on the inconveniences which must be unavoidably blended with all political advantages; and on the possible abuses which must be incident to every power or trust, of which a beneficial use can be made. This method of handling the subject cannot impose on the good sense of the people of America. It may display the subtlety of the writer; it may open a boundless field for rhetoric and declamation; it may inflame the passions of the unthinking, and may confirm the prejudices of the misthinking: but cool and candid people will at once reflect, that the purest of human blessings must have a portion of alloy in them; that the choice must always be made, if not of the lesser evil, at least of the GREATER, not the PERFECT, good; and that in every political institution, a power to advance the public happiness involves a discretion which may be misapplied and abused. They will see, therefore, that in all cases where power is to be conferred, the point first to be decided is, whether such a power be necessary to the public good; as the next will be, in case of an affirmative decision, to guard as effectually as possible against a perversion of the power to the public detriment. That we may form a correct judgment on this subject, it will be proper to review the several powers conferred on the government of the Union; and that this may be the more conveniently done they may be reduced into different classes as they relate to the following different objects: 1. Security against foreign danger; 2. Regulation of the intercourse with foreign nations; 3. Maintenance of harmony and proper intercourse among the States; 4. Certain miscellaneous objects of general utility; 5. Restraint of the States from certain injurious acts; 6. Provisions for giving due efficacy to all these powers. The powers falling within the FIRST class are those of declaring war and granting letters of marque; of providing armies and fleets; of regulating and calling forth the militia; of levying and borrowing money. Security against foreign danger is one of the primitive objects of civil society. It is an avowed and essential object of the American Union. The powers requisite for attaining it must be effectually confided to the federal councils. Is the power of declaring war necessary? No man will answer this question in the negative. It would be superfluous, therefore, to enter into a proof of the affirmative. The existing Confederation establishes this power in the most ample form. Is the power of raising armies and equipping fleets necessary? This is involved in the foregoing power. It is involved in the power of selfdefense. But was it necessary to give an INDEFINITE POWER of raising TROOPS, as well as providing fleets; and of maintaining both in PEACE, as well as in war? The answer to these questions has been too far anticipated in another place to admit an extensive discussion of them in this place. The answer indeed seems to be so obvious and conclusive as scarcely to justify such a discussion in any place. With what color of propriety could the force necessary for defense be limited by those who cannot limit the force of offense? If a federal Constitution could chain the ambition or set bounds to the exertions of all other nations, then indeed might it prudently chain the discretion of its own government, and set bounds to the exertions for its own safety. How could a readiness for war in time of peace be safely prohibited, unless we could prohibit, in like manner, the preparations and establishments of every hostile nation? The means of security can only be regulated by the means and the danger of attack. They will, in fact, be ever determined by these rules, and by no others. It is in vain to oppose constitutional barriers to the impulse of selfpreservation. It is worse than in vain; because it plants in the Constitution itself necessary usurpations of power, every precedent of which is a germ of unnecessary and multiplied repetitions. If one nation maintains constantly a disciplined army, ready for the service of ambition or revenge, it obliges the most pacific nations who may be within the reach of its enterprises to take corresponding precautions. The fifteenth century was the unhappy epoch of military establishments in the time of peace. They were introduced by Charles VII. of France. All Europe has followed, or been forced into, the example. Had the example not been followed by other nations, all Europe must long ago have worn the chains of a universal monarch. Were every nation except France now to disband its peace establishments, the same event might follow. The veteran legions of Rome were an overmatch for the undisciplined valor of all other nations and rendered her the mistress of the world. Not the less true is it, that the liberties of Rome proved the final victim to her military triumphs; and that the liberties of Europe, as far as they ever existed, have, with few exceptions, been the price of her military establishments. A standing force, therefore, is a dangerous, at the same time that it may be a necessary, provision. On the smallest scale it has its inconveniences. On an extensive scale its consequences may be fatal. On any scale it is an object of laudable circumspection and precaution. A wise nation will combine all these considerations; and, whilst it does not rashly preclude itself from any resource which may become essential to its safety, will exert all its prudence in diminishing both the necessity and the danger of resorting to one which may be inauspicious to its liberties. The clearest marks of this prudence are stamped on the proposed Constitution. The Union itself, which it cements and secures, destroys every pretext for a military establishment which could be dangerous. America united, with a handful of troops, or without a single soldier, exhibits a more forbidding posture to foreign ambition than America disunited, with a hundred thousand veterans ready for combat. It was remarked, on a former occasion, that the want of this pretext had saved the liberties of one nation in Europe. Being rendered by her insular situation and her maritime resources impregnable to the armies of her neighbors, the rulers of Great Britain have never been able, by real or artificial dangers, to cheat the public into an extensive peace establishment. The distance of the United States from the powerful nations of the world gives them the same happy security. A dangerous establishment can never be necessary or plausible, so long as they continue a united people. But let it never, for a moment, be forgotten that they are indebted for this advantage to the Union alone. The moment of its dissolution will be the date of a new order of things. The fears of the weaker, or the ambition of the stronger States, or Confederacies, will set the same example in the New, as Charles VII. did in the Old World. The example will be followed here from the same motives which produced universal imitation there. Instead of deriving from our situation the precious advantage which Great Britain has derived from hers, the face of America will be but a copy of that of the continent of Europe. It will present liberty everywhere crushed between standing armies and perpetual taxes. The fortunes of disunited America will be even more disastrous than those of Europe. The sources of evil in the latter are confined to her own limits. No superior powers of another quarter of the globe intrigue among her rival nations, inflame their mutual animosities, and render them the instruments of foreign ambition, jealousy, and revenge. In America the miseries springing from her internal jealousies, contentions, and wars, would form a part only of her lot. A plentiful addition of evils would have their source in that relation in which Europe stands to this quarter of the earth, and which no other quarter of the earth bears to Europe. This picture of the consequences of disunion cannot be too highly colored, or too often exhibited. Every man who loves peace, every man who loves his country, every man who loves liberty, ought to have it ever before his eyes, that he may cherish in his heart a due attachment to the Union of America, and be able to set a due value on the means of preserving it. Next to the effectual establishment of the Union, the best possible precaution against danger from standing armies is a limitation of the term for which revenue may be appropriated to their support. This precaution the Constitution has prudently added. I will not repeat here the observations which I flatter myself have placed this subject in a just and satisfactory light. But it may not be improper to take notice of an argument against this part of the Constitution, which has been drawn from the policy and practice of Great Britain. It is said that the continuance of an army in that kingdom requires an annual vote of the legislature; whereas the American Constitution has lengthened this critical period to two years. This is the form in which the comparison is usually stated to the public: but is it a just form? Is it a fair comparison? Does the British Constitution restrain the parliamentary discretion to one year? Does the American impose on the Congress appropriations for two years? On the contrary, it cannot be unknown to the authors of the fallacy themselves, that the British Constitution fixes no limit whatever to the discretion of the legislature, and that the American ties down the legislature to two years, as the longest admissible term. Had the argument from the British example been truly stated, it would have stood thus: The term for which supplies may be appropriated to the army establishment, though unlimited by the British Constitution, has nevertheless, in practice, been limited by parliamentary discretion to a single year. Now, if in Great Britain, where the House of Commons is elected for seven years; where so great a proportion of the members are elected by so small a proportion of the people; where the electors are so corrupted by the representatives, and the representatives so corrupted by the Crown, the representative body can possess a power to make appropriations to the army for an indefinite term, without desiring, or without daring, to extend the term beyond a single year, ought not suspicion herself to blush, in pretending that the representatives of the United States, elected FREELY by the WHOLE BODY of the people, every SECOND YEAR, cannot be safely intrusted with the discretion over such appropriations, expressly limited to the short period of TWO YEARS? A bad cause seldom fails to betray itself. Of this truth, the management of the opposition to the federal government is an unvaried exemplification. But among all the blunders which have been committed, none is more striking than the attempt to enlist on that side the prudent jealousy entertained by the people, of standing armies. The attempt has awakened fully the public attention to that important subject; and has led to investigations which must terminate in a thorough and universal conviction, not only that the constitution has provided the most effectual guards against danger from that quarter, but that nothing short of a Constitution fully adequate to the national defense and the preservation of the Union, can save America from as many standing armies as it may be split into States or Confederacies, and from such a progressive augmentation, of these establishments in each, as will render them as burdensome to the properties and ominous to the liberties of the people, as any establishment that can become necessary, under a united and efficient government, must be tolerable to the former and safe to the latter. The palpable necessity of the power to provide and maintain a navy has protected that part of the Constitution against a spirit of censure, which has spared few other parts. It must, indeed, be numbered among the greatest blessings of America, that as her Union will be the only source of her maritime strength, so this will be a principal source of her security against danger from abroad. In this respect our situation bears another likeness to the insular advantage of Great Britain. The batteries most capable of repelling foreign enterprises on our safety, are happily such as can never be turned by a perfidious government against our liberties. The inhabitants of the Atlantic frontier are all of them deeply interested in this provision for naval protection, and if they have hitherto been suffered to sleep quietly in their beds; if their property has remained safe against the predatory spirit of licentious adventurers; if their maritime towns have not yet been compelled to ransom themselves from the terrors of a conflagration, by yielding to the exactions of daring and sudden invaders, these instances of good fortune are not to be ascribed to the capacity of the existing government for the protection of those from whom it claims allegiance, but to causes that are fugitive and fallacious. If we except perhaps Virginia and Maryland, which are peculiarly vulnerable on their eastern frontiers, no part of the Union ought to feel more anxiety on this subject than New York. Her seacoast is extensive. A very important district of the State is an island. The State itself is penetrated by a large navigable river for more than fifty leagues. The great emporium of its commerce, the great reservoir of its wealth, lies every moment at the mercy of events, and may almost be regarded as a hostage for ignominious compliances with the dictates of a foreign enemy, or even with the rapacious demands of pirates and barbarians. Should a war be the result of the precarious situation of European affairs, and all the unruly passions attending it be let loose on the ocean, our escape from insults and depredations, not only on that element, but every part of the other bordering on it, will be truly miraculous. In the present condition of America, the States more immediately exposed to these calamities have nothing to hope from the phantom of a general government which now exists; and if their single resources were equal to the task of fortifying themselves against the danger, the object to be protected would be almost consumed by the means of protecting them. The power of regulating and calling forth the militia has been already sufficiently vindicated and explained. The power of levying and borrowing money, being the sinew of that which is to be exerted in the national defense, is properly thrown into the same class with it. This power, also, has been examined already with much attention, and has, I trust, been clearly shown to be necessary, both in the extent and form given to it by the Constitution. I will address one additional reflection only to those who contend that the power ought to have been restrained to external taxation by which they mean, taxes on articles imported from other countries. It cannot be doubted that this will always be a valuable source of revenue; that for a considerable time it must be a principal source; that at this moment it is an essential one. But we may form very mistaken ideas on this subject, if we do not call to mind in our calculations, that the extent of revenue drawn from foreign commerce must vary with the variations, both in the extent and the kind of imports; and that these variations do not correspond with the progress of population, which must be the general measure of the public wants. As long as agriculture continues the sole field of labor, the importation of manufactures must increase as the consumers multiply. As soon as domestic manufactures are begun by the hands not called for by agriculture, the imported manufactures will decrease as the numbers of people increase. In a more remote stage, the imports may consist in a considerable part of raw materials, which will be wrought into articles for exportation, and will, therefore, require rather the encouragement of bounties, than to be loaded with discouraging duties. A system of government, meant for duration, ought to contemplate these revolutions, and be able to accommodate itself to them. Some, who have not denied the necessity of the power of taxation, have grounded a very fierce attack against the Constitution, on the language in which it is defined. It has been urged and echoed, that the power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to pay the debts, and provide for the common defense and general welfare of the United States, amounts to an unlimited commission to exercise every power which may be alleged to be necessary for the common defense or general welfare. No stronger proof could be given of the distress under which these writers labor for objections, than their stooping to such a misconstruction. Had no other enumeration or definition of the powers of the Congress been found in the Constitution, than the general expressions just cited, the authors of the objection might have had some color for it; though it would have been difficult to find a reason for so awkward a form of describing an authority to legislate in all possible cases. A power to destroy the freedom of the press, the trial by jury, or even to regulate the course of descents, or the forms of conveyances, must be very singularly expressed by the terms to raise money for the general welfare. But what color can the objection have, when a specification of the objects alluded to by these general terms immediately follows, and is not even separated by a longer pause than a semicolon? If the different parts of the same instrument ought to be so expounded, as to give meaning to every part which will bear it, shall one part of the same sentence be excluded altogether from a share in the meaning; and shall the more doubtful and indefinite terms be retained in their full extent, and the clear and precise expressions be denied any signification whatsoever? For what purpose could the enumeration of particular powers be inserted, if these and all others were meant to be included in the preceding general power? Nothing is more natural nor common than first to use a general phrase, and then to explain and qualify it by a recital of particulars. But the idea of an enumeration of particulars which neither explain nor qualify the general meaning, and can have no other effect than to confound and mislead, is an absurdity, which, as we are reduced to the dilemma of charging either on the authors of the objection or on the authors of the Constitution, we must take the liberty of supposing, had not its origin with the latter. The objection here is the more extraordinary, as it appears that the language used by the convention is a copy from the articles of Confederation. The objects of the Union among the States, as described in article third, are their common defense, security of their liberties, and mutual and general welfare.  The terms of article eighth are still more identical: All charges of war and all other expenses that shall be incurred for the common defense or general welfare, and allowed by the United States in Congress, shall be defrayed out of a common treasury, etc. A similar language again occurs in article ninth. Construe either of these articles by the rules which would justify the construction put on the new Constitution, and they vest in the existing Congress a power to legislate in all cases whatsoever. But what would have been thought of that assembly, if, attaching themselves to these general expressions, and disregarding the specifications which ascertain and limit their import, they had exercised an unlimited power of providing for the common defense and general welfare? I appeal to the objectors themselves, whether they would in that case have employed the same reasoning in justification of Congress as they now make use of against the convention. How difficult it is for error to escape its own condemnation! PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLII. The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 22, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The second class of powers, lodged in the general government, consists of those which regulate the intercourse with foreign nations, to wit: to make treaties; to send and receive ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to define and punish piracies and felonies committed on the high seas, and offenses against the law of nations; to regulate foreign commerce, including a power to prohibit, after the year 1808, the importation of slaves, and to lay an intermediate duty of ten dollars per head, as a discouragement to such importations. This class of powers forms an obvious and essential branch of the federal administration. If we are to be one nation in any respect, it clearly ought to be in respect to other nations. The powers to make treaties and to send and receive ambassadors, speak their own propriety. Both of them are comprised in the articles of Confederation, with this difference only, that the former is disembarrassed, by the plan of the convention, of an exception, under which treaties might be substantially frustrated by regulations of the States; and that a power of appointing and receiving other public ministers and consuls, is expressly and very properly added to the former provision concerning ambassadors. The term ambassador, if taken strictly, as seems to be required by the second of the articles of Confederation, comprehends the highest grade only of public ministers, and excludes the grades which the United States will be most likely to prefer, where foreign embassies may be necessary. And under no latitude of construction will the term comprehend consuls. Yet it has been found expedient, and has been the practice of Congress, to employ the inferior grades of public ministers, and to send and receive consuls. It is true, that where treaties of commerce stipulate for the mutual appointment of consuls, whose functions are connected with commerce, the admission of foreign consuls may fall within the power of making commercial treaties; and that where no such treaties exist, the mission of American consuls into foreign countries may PERHAPS be covered under the authority, given by the ninth article of the Confederation, to appoint all such civil officers as may be necessary for managing the general affairs of the United States. But the admission of consuls into the United States, where no previous treaty has stipulated it, seems to have been nowhere provided for. A supply of the omission is one of the lesser instances in which the convention have improved on the model before them. But the most minute provisions become important when they tend to obviate the necessity or the pretext for gradual and unobserved usurpations of power. A list of the cases in which Congress have been betrayed, or forced by the defects of the Confederation, into violations of their chartered authorities, would not a little surprise those who have paid no attention to the subject; and would be no inconsiderable argument in favor of the new Constitution, which seems to have provided no less studiously for the lesser, than the more obvious and striking defects of the old. The power to define and punish piracies and felonies committed on the high seas, and offenses against the law of nations, belongs with equal propriety to the general government, and is a still greater improvement on the articles of Confederation. These articles contain no provision for the case of offenses against the law of nations; and consequently leave it in the power of any indiscreet member to embroil the Confederacy with foreign nations. The provision of the federal articles on the subject of piracies and felonies extends no further than to the establishment of courts for the trial of these offenses. The definition of piracies might, perhaps, without inconveniency, be left to the law of nations; though a legislative definition of them is found in most municipal codes. A definition of felonies on the high seas is evidently requisite. Felony is a term of loose signification, even in the common law of England; and of various import in the statute law of that kingdom. But neither the common nor the statute law of that, or of any other nation, ought to be a standard for the proceedings of this, unless previously made its own by legislative adoption. The meaning of the term, as defined in the codes of the several States, would be as impracticable as the former would be a dishonorable and illegitimate guide. It is not precisely the same in any two of the States; and varies in each with every revision of its criminal laws. For the sake of certainty and uniformity, therefore, the power of defining felonies in this case was in every respect necessary and proper. The regulation of foreign commerce, having fallen within several views which have been taken of this subject, has been too fully discussed to need additional proofs here of its being properly submitted to the federal administration. It were doubtless to be wished, that the power of prohibiting the importation of slaves had not been postponed until the year 1808, or rather that it had been suffered to have immediate operation. But it is not difficult to account, either for this restriction on the general government, or for the manner in which the whole clause is expressed. It ought to be considered as a great point gained in favor of humanity, that a period of twenty years may terminate forever, within these States, a traffic which has so long and so loudly upbraided the barbarism of modern policy; that within that period, it will receive a considerable discouragement from the federal government, and may be totally abolished, by a concurrence of the few States which continue the unnatural traffic, in the prohibitory example which has been given by so great a majority of the Union. Happy would it be for the unfortunate Africans, if an equal prospect lay before them of being redeemed from the oppressions of their European brethren! Attempts have been made to pervert this clause into an objection against the Constitution, by representing it on one side as a criminal toleration of an illicit practice, and on another as calculated to prevent voluntary and beneficial emigrations from Europe to America. I mention these misconstructions, not with a view to give them an answer, for they deserve none, but as specimens of the manner and spirit in which some have thought fit to conduct their opposition to the proposed government. The powers included in the THIRD class are those which provide for the harmony and proper intercourse among the States. Under this head might be included the particular restraints imposed on the authority of the States, and certain powers of the judicial department; but the former are reserved for a distinct class, and the latter will be particularly examined when we arrive at the structure and organization of the government. I shall confine myself to a cursory review of the remaining powers comprehended under this third description, to wit: to regulate commerce among the several States and the Indian tribes; to coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign coin; to provide for the punishment of counterfeiting the current coin and secureties of the United States; to fix the standard of weights and measures; to establish a uniform rule of naturalization, and uniform laws of bankruptcy, to prescribe the manner in which the public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, and the effect they shall have in other States; and to establish post offices and post roads. The defect of power in the existing Confederacy to regulate the commerce between its several members, is in the number of those which have been clearly pointed out by experience. To the proofs and remarks which former papers have brought into view on this subject, it may be added that without this supplemental provision, the great and essential power of regulating foreign commerce would have been incomplete and ineffectual. A very material object of this power was the relief of the States which import and export through other States, from the improper contributions levied on them by the latter. Were these at liberty to regulate the trade between State and State, it must be foreseen that ways would be found out to load the articles of import and export, during the passage through their jurisdiction, with duties which would fall on the makers of the latter and the consumers of the former. We may be assured by past experience, that such a practice would be introduced by future contrivances; and both by that and a common knowledge of human affairs, that it would nourish unceasing animosities, and not improbably terminate in serious interruptions of the public tranquillity. To those who do not view the question through the medium of passion or of interest, the desire of the commercial States to collect, in any form, an indirect revenue from their uncommercial neighbors, must appear not less impolitic than it is unfair; since it would stimulate the injured party, by resentment as well as interest, to resort to less convenient channels for their foreign trade. But the mild voice of reason, pleading the cause of an enlarged and permanent interest, is but too often drowned, before public bodies as well as individuals, by the clamors of an impatient avidity for immediate and immoderate gain. The necessity of a superintending authority over the reciprocal trade of confederated States, has been illustrated by other examples as well as our own. In Switzerland, where the Union is so very slight, each canton is obliged to allow to merchandises a passage through its jurisdiction into other cantons, without an augmentation of the tolls. In Germany it is a law of the empire, that the princes and states shall not lay tolls or customs on bridges, rivers, or passages, without the consent of the emperor and the diet; though it appears from a quotation in an antecedent paper, that the practice in this, as in many other instances in that confederacy, has not followed the law, and has produced there the mischiefs which have been foreseen here. Among the restraints imposed by the Union of the Netherlands on its members, one is, that they shall not establish imposts disadvantageous to their neighbors, without the general permission. The regulation of commerce with the Indian tribes is very properly unfettered from two limitations in the articles of Confederation, which render the provision obscure and contradictory. The power is there restrained to Indians, not members of any of the States, and is not to violate or infringe the legislative right of any State within its own limits. What description of Indians are to be deemed members of a State, is not yet settled, and has been a question of frequent perplexity and contention in the federal councils. And how the trade with Indians, though not members of a State, yet residing within its legislative jurisdiction, can be regulated by an external authority, without so far intruding on the internal rights of legislation, is absolutely incomprehensible. This is not the only case in which the articles of Confederation have inconsiderately endeavored to accomplish impossibilities; to reconcile a partial sovereignty in the Union, with complete sovereignty in the States; to subvert a mathematical axiom, by taking away a part, and letting the whole remain. All that need be remarked on the power to coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign coin, is, that by providing for this last case, the Constitution has supplied a material omission in the articles of Confederation. The authority of the existing Congress is restrained to the regulation of coin STRUCK by their own authority, or that of the respective States. It must be seen at once that the proposed uniformity in the VALUE of the current coin might be destroyed by subjecting that of foreign coin to the different regulations of the different States. The punishment of counterfeiting the public securities, as well as the current coin, is submitted of course to that authority which is to secure the value of both. The regulation of weights and measures is transferred from the articles of Confederation, and is founded on like considerations with the preceding power of regulating coin. The dissimilarity in the rules of naturalization has long been remarked as a fault in our system, and as laying a foundation for intricate and delicate questions. In the fourth article of the Confederation, it is declared that the FREE INHABITANTS of each of these States, paupers, vagabonds, and fugitives from justice, excepted, shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of FREE CITIZENS in the several States; and THE PEOPLE of each State shall, in every other, enjoy all the privileges of trade and commerce, etc. There is a confusion of language here, which is remarkable. Why the terms FREE INHABITANTS are used in one part of the article, FREE CITIZENS in another, and PEOPLE in another; or what was meant by superadding to all privileges and immunities of free citizens, all the privileges of trade and commerce, cannot easily be determined. It seems to be a construction scarcely avoidable, however, that those who come under the denomination of FREE INHABITANTS of a State, although not citizens of such State, are entitled, in every other State, to all the privileges of FREE CITIZENS of the latter; that is, to greater privileges than they may be entitled to in their own State: so that it may be in the power of a particular State, or rather every State is laid under a necessity, not only to confer the rights of citizenship in other States upon any whom it may admit to such rights within itself, but upon any whom it may allow to become inhabitants within its jurisdiction. But were an exposition of the term inhabitants to be admitted which would confine the stipulated privileges to citizens alone, the difficulty is diminished only, not removed. The very improper power would still be retained by each State, of naturalizing aliens in every other State. In one State, residence for a short term confirms all the rights of citizenship: in another, qualifications of greater importance are required. An alien, therefore, legally incapacitated for certain rights in the latter, may, by previous residence only in the former, elude his incapacity; and thus the law of one State be preposterously rendered paramount to the law of another, within the jurisdiction of the other. We owe it to mere casualty, that very serious embarrassments on this subject have been hitherto escaped. By the laws of several States, certain descriptions of aliens, who had rendered themselves obnoxious, were laid under interdicts inconsistent not only with the rights of citizenship but with the privilege of residence. What would have been the consequence, if such persons, by residence or otherwise, had acquired the character of citizens under the laws of another State, and then asserted their rights as such, both to residence and citizenship, within the State proscribing them? Whatever the legal consequences might have been, other consequences would probably have resulted, of too serious a nature not to be provided against. The new Constitution has accordingly, with great propriety, made provision against them, and all others proceeding from the defect of the Confederation on this head, by authorizing the general government to establish a uniform rule of naturalization throughout the United States. The power of establishing uniform laws of bankruptcy is so intimately connected with the regulation of commerce, and will prevent so many frauds where the parties or their property may lie or be removed into different States, that the expediency of it seems not likely to be drawn into question. The power of prescribing by general laws, the manner in which the public acts, records and judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, and the effect they shall have in other States, is an evident and valuable improvement on the clause relating to this subject in the articles of Confederation. The meaning of the latter is extremely indeterminate, and can be of little importance under any interpretation which it will bear. The power here established may be rendered a very convenient instrument of justice, and be particularly beneficial on the borders of contiguous States, where the effects liable to justice may be suddenly and secretly translated, in any stage of the process, within a foreign jurisdiction. The power of establishing post roads must, in every view, be a harmless power, and may, perhaps, by judicious management, become productive of great public conveniency. Nothing which tends to facilitate the intercourse between the States can be deemed unworthy of the public care. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLIII. The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered) For the Independent Journal. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The fourth class comprises the following miscellaneous powers:1. A power to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing, for a limited time, to authors and inventors, the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries. The utility of this power will scarcely be questioned. The copyright of authors has been solemnly adjudged, in Great Britain, to be a right of common law. The right to useful inventions seems with equal reason to belong to the inventors. The public good fully coincides in both cases with the claims of individuals. The States cannot separately make effectual provisions for either of the cases, and most of them have anticipated the decision of this point, by laws passed at the instance of Congress. 2. To exercise exclusive legislation, in all cases whatsoever, over such district (not exceeding ten miles square) as may, by cession of particular States and the acceptance of Congress, become the seat of the government of the United States; and to exercise like authority over all places purchased by the consent of the legislatures of the States in which the same shall be, for the erection of forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards, and other needful buildings. The indispensable necessity of complete authority at the seat of government, carries its own evidence with it. It is a power exercised by every legislature of the Union, I might say of the world, by virtue of its general supremacy. Without it, not only the public authority might be insulted and its proceedings interrupted with impunity; but a dependence of the members of the general government on the State comprehending the seat of the government, for protection in the exercise of their duty, might bring on the national councils an imputation of awe or influence, equally dishonorable to the government and dissatisfactory to the other members of the Confederacy. This consideration has the more weight, as the gradual accumulation of public improvements at the stationary residence of the government would be both too great a public pledge to be left in the hands of a single State, and would create so many obstacles to a removal of the government, as still further to abridge its necessary independence. The extent of this federal district is sufficiently circumscribed to satisfy every jealousy of an opposite nature. And as it is to be appropriated to this use with the consent of the State ceding it; as the State will no doubt provide in the compact for the rights and the consent of the citizens inhabiting it; as the inhabitants will find sufficient inducements of interest to become willing parties to the cession; as they will have had their voice in the election of the government which is to exercise authority over them; as a municipal legislature for local purposes, derived from their own suffrages, will of course be allowed them; and as the authority of the legislature of the State, and of the inhabitants of the ceded part of it, to concur in the cession, will be derived from the whole people of the State in their adoption of the Constitution, every imaginable objection seems to be obviated. The necessity of a like authority over forts, magazines, etc., established by the general government, is not less evident. The public money expended on such places, and the public property deposited in them, requires that they should be exempt from the authority of the particular State. Nor would it be proper for the places on which the security of the entire Union may depend, to be in any degree dependent on a particular member of it. All objections and scruples are here also obviated, by requiring the concurrence of the States concerned, in every such establishment. 3. To declare the punishment of treason, but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of blood, or forfeiture, except during the life of the person attained. As treason may be committed against the United States, the authority of the United States ought to be enabled to punish it. But as newfangled and artificial treasons have been the great engines by which violent factions, the natural offspring of free government, have usually wreaked their alternate malignity on each other, the convention have, with great judgment, opposed a barrier to this peculiar danger, by inserting a constitutional definition of the crime, fixing the proof necessary for conviction of it, and restraining the Congress, even in punishing it, from extending the consequences of guilt beyond the person of its author. 4. To admit new States into the Union; but no new State shall be formed or erected within the jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the junction of two or more States, or parts of States, without the consent of the legislatures of the States concerned, as well as of the Congress. In the articles of Confederation, no provision is found on this important subject. Canada was to be admitted of right, on her joining in the measures of the United States; and the other COLONIES, by which were evidently meant the other British colonies, at the discretion of nine States. The eventual establishment of NEW STATES seems to have been overlooked by the compilers of that instrument. We have seen the inconvenience of this omission, and the assumption of power into which Congress have been led by it. With great propriety, therefore, has the new system supplied the defect. The general precaution, that no new States shall be formed, without the concurrence of the federal authority, and that of the States concerned, is consonant to the principles which ought to govern such transactions. The particular precaution against the erection of new States, by the partition of a State without its consent, quiets the jealousy of the larger States; as that of the smaller is quieted by a like precaution, against a junction of States without their consent. 5. To dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States, with a proviso, that nothing in the Constitution shall be so construed as to prejudice any claims of the United States, or of any particular State. This is a power of very great importance, and required by considerations similar to those which show the propriety of the former. The proviso annexed is proper in itself, and was probably rendered absolutely necessary by jealousies and questions concerning the Western territory sufficiently known to the public. 6. To guarantee to every State in the Union a republican form of government; to protect each of them against invasion; and on application of the legislature, or of the executive (when the legislature cannot be convened), against domestic violence. In a confederacy founded on republican principles, and composed of republican members, the superintending government ought clearly to possess authority to defend the system against aristocratic or monarchial innovations. The more intimate the nature of such a union may be, the greater interest have the members in the political institutions of each other; and the greater right to insist that the forms of government under which the compact was entered into should be SUBSTANTIALLY maintained. But a right implies a remedy; and where else could the remedy be deposited, than where it is deposited by the Constitution? Governments of dissimilar principles and forms have been found less adapted to a federal coalition of any sort, than those of a kindred nature. As the confederate republic of Germany, says Montesquieu, consists of free cities and petty states, subject to different princes, experience shows us that it is more imperfect than that of Holland and Switzerland.  Greece was undone, he adds, as soon as the king of Macedon obtained a seat among the Amphictyons.  In the latter case, no doubt, the disproportionate force, as well as the monarchical form, of the new confederate, had its share of influence on the events. It may possibly be asked, what need there could be of such a precaution, and whether it may not become a pretext for alterations in the State governments, without the concurrence of the States themselves. These questions admit of ready answers. If the interposition of the general government should not be needed, the provision for such an event will be a harmless superfluity only in the Constitution. But who can say what experiments may be produced by the caprice of particular States, by the ambition of enterprising leaders, or by the intrigues and influence of foreign powers? To the second question it may be answered, that if the general government should interpose by virtue of this constitutional authority, it will be, of course, bound to pursue the authority. But the authority extends no further than to a GUARANTY of a republican form of government, which supposes a preexisting government of the form which is to be guaranteed. As long, therefore, as the existing republican forms are continued by the States, they are guaranteed by the federal Constitution. Whenever the States may choose to substitute other republican forms, they have a right to do so, and to claim the federal guaranty for the latter. The only restriction imposed on them is, that they shall not exchange republican for antirepublican Constitutions; a restriction which, it is presumed, will hardly be considered as a grievance. A protection against invasion is due from every society to the parts composing it. The latitude of the expression here used seems to secure each State, not only against foreign hostility, but against ambitious or vindictive enterprises of its more powerful neighbors. The history, both of ancient and modern confederacies, proves that the weaker members of the union ought not to be insensible to the policy of this article. Protection against domestic violence is added with equal propriety. It has been remarked, that even among the Swiss cantons, which, properly speaking, are not under one government, provision is made for this object; and the history of that league informs us that mutual aid is frequently claimed and afforded; and as well by the most democratic, as the other cantons. A recent and wellknown event among ourselves has warned us to be prepared for emergencies of a like nature. At first view, it might seem not to square with the republican theory, to suppose, either that a majority have not the right, or that a minority will have the force, to subvert a government; and consequently, that the federal interposition can never be required, but when it would be improper. But theoretic reasoning, in this as in most other cases, must be qualified by the lessons of practice. Why may not illicit combinations, for purposes of violence, be formed as well by a majority of a State, especially a small State as by a majority of a county, or a district of the same State; and if the authority of the State ought, in the latter case, to protect the local magistracy, ought not the federal authority, in the former, to support the State authority? Besides, there are certain parts of the State constitutions which are so interwoven with the federal Constitution, that a violent blow cannot be given to the one without communicating the wound to the other. Insurrections in a State will rarely induce a federal interposition, unless the number concerned in them bear some proportion to the friends of government. It will be much better that the violence in such cases should be repressed by the superintending power, than that the majority should be left to maintain their cause by a bloody and obstinate contest. The existence of a right to interpose, will generally prevent the necessity of exerting it. Is it true that force and right are necessarily on the same side in republican governments? May not the minor party possess such a superiority of pecuniary resources, of military talents and experience, or of secret succors from foreign powers, as will render it superior also in an appeal to the sword? May not a more compact and advantageous position turn the scale on the same side, against a superior number so situated as to be less capable of a prompt and collected exertion of its strength? Nothing can be more chimerical than to imagine that in a trial of actual force, victory may be calculated by the rules which prevail in a census of the inhabitants, or which determine the event of an election! May it not happen, in fine, that the minority of CITIZENS may become a majority of PERSONS, by the accession of alien residents, of a casual concourse of adventurers, or of those whom the constitution of the State has not admitted to the rights of suffrage? I take no notice of an unhappy species of population abounding in some of the States, who, during the calm of regular government, are sunk below the level of men; but who, in the tempestuous scenes of civil violence, may emerge into the human character, and give a superiority of strength to any party with which they may associate themselves. In cases where it may be doubtful on which side justice lies, what better umpires could be desired by two violent factions, flying to arms, and tearing a State to pieces, than the representatives of confederate States, not heated by the local flame? To the impartiality of judges, they would unite the affection of friends. Happy would it be if such a remedy for its infirmities could be enjoyed by all free governments; if a project equally effectual could be established for the universal peace of mankind! Should it be asked, what is to be the redress for an insurrection pervading all the States, and comprising a superiority of the entire force, though not a constitutional right? the answer must be, that such a case, as it would be without the compass of human remedies, so it is fortunately not within the compass of human probability; and that it is a sufficient recommendation of the federal Constitution, that it diminishes the risk of a calamity for which no possible constitution can provide a cure. Among the advantages of a confederate republic enumerated by Montesquieu, an important one is, that should a popular insurrection happen in one of the States, the others are able to quell it. Should abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound. 7. To consider all debts contracted, and engagements entered into, before the adoption of this Constitution, as being no less valid against the United States, under this Constitution, than under the Confederation. This can only be considered as a declaratory proposition; and may have been inserted, among other reasons, for the satisfaction of the foreign creditors of the United States, who cannot be strangers to the pretended doctrine, that a change in the political form of civil society has the magical effect of dissolving its moral obligations. Among the lesser criticisms which have been exercised on the Constitution, it has been remarked that the validity of engagements ought to have been asserted in favor of the United States, as well as against them; and in the spirit which usually characterizes little critics, the omission has been transformed and magnified into a plot against the national rights. The authors of this discovery may be told, what few others need to be informed of, that as engagements are in their nature reciprocal, an assertion of their validity on one side, necessarily involves a validity on the other side; and that as the article is merely declaratory, the establishment of the principle in one case is sufficient for every case. They may be further told, that every constitution must limit its precautions to dangers that are not altogether imaginary; and that no real danger can exist that the government would DARE, with, or even without, this constitutional declaration before it, to remit the debts justly due to the public, on the pretext here condemned. 8. To provide for amendments to be ratified by three fourths of the States under two exceptions only. That useful alterations will be suggested by experience, could not but be foreseen. It was requisite, therefore, that a mode for introducing them should be provided. The mode preferred by the convention seems to be stamped with every mark of propriety. It guards equally against that extreme facility, which would render the Constitution too mutable; and that extreme difficulty, which might perpetuate its discovered faults. It, moreover, equally enables the general and the State governments to originate the amendment of errors, as they may be pointed out by the experience on one side, or on the other. The exception in favor of the equality of suffrage in the Senate, was probably meant as a palladium to the residuary sovereignty of the States, implied and secured by that principle of representation in one branch of the legislature; and was probably insisted on by the States particularly attached to that equality. The other exception must have been admitted on the same considerations which produced the privilege defended by it. 9. The ratification of the conventions of nine States shall be sufficient for the establishment of this Constitution between the States, ratifying the same. This article speaks for itself. The express authority of the people alone could give due validity to the Constitution. To have required the unanimous ratification of the thirteen States, would have subjected the essential interests of the whole to the caprice or corruption of a single member. It would have marked a want of foresight in the convention, which our own experience would have rendered inexcusable. Two questions of a very delicate nature present themselves on this occasion: 1. On what principle the Confederation, which stands in the solemn form of a compact among the States, can be superseded without the unanimous consent of the parties to it? 2. What relation is to subsist between the nine or more States ratifying the Constitution, and the remaining few who do not become parties to it? The first question is answered at once by recurring to the absolute necessity of the case; to the great principle of selfpreservation; to the transcendent law of nature and of natures God, which declares that the safety and happiness of society are the objects at which all political institutions aim, and to which all such institutions must be sacrificed. PERHAPS, also, an answer may be found without searching beyond the principles of the compact itself. It has been heretofore noted among the defects of the Confederation, that in many of the States it had received no higher sanction than a mere legislative ratification. The principle of reciprocality seems to require that its obligation on the other States should be reduced to the same standard. A compact between independent sovereigns, founded on ordinary acts of legislative authority, can pretend to no higher validity than a league or treaty between the parties. It is an established doctrine on the subject of treaties, that all the articles are mutually conditions of each other; that a breach of any one article is a breach of the whole treaty; and that a breach, committed by either of the parties, absolves the others, and authorizes them, if they please, to pronounce the compact violated and void. Should it unhappily be necessary to appeal to these delicate truths for a justification for dispensing with the consent of particular States to a dissolution of the federal pact, will not the complaining parties find it a difficult task to answer the MULTIPLIED and IMPORTANT infractions with which they may be confronted? The time has been when it was incumbent on us all to veil the ideas which this paragraph exhibits. The scene is now changed, and with it the part which the same motives dictate. The second question is not less delicate; and the flattering prospect of its being merely hypothetical forbids an overcurious discussion of it. It is one of those cases which must be left to provide for itself. In general, it may be observed, that although no political relation can subsist between the assenting and dissenting States, yet the moral relations will remain uncancelled. The claims of justice, both on one side and on the other, will be in force, and must be fulfilled; the rights of humanity must in all cases be duly and mutually respected; whilst considerations of a common interest, and, above all, the remembrance of the endearing scenes which are past, and the anticipation of a speedy triumph over the obstacles to reunion, will, it is hoped, not urge in vain MODERATION on one side, and PRUDENCE on the other. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLIV. Restrictions on the Authority of the Several States From the New York Packet. Friday, January 25, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: A fifth class of provisions in favor of the federal authority consists of the following restrictions on the authority of the several States:1. No State shall enter into any treaty, alliance, or confederation; grant letters of marque and reprisal; coin money; emit bills of credit; make any thing but gold and silver a legal tender in payment of debts; pass any bill of attainder, expostfacto law, or law impairing the obligation of contracts; or grant any title of nobility. The prohibition against treaties, alliances, and confederations makes a part of the existing articles of Union; and for reasons which need no explanation, is copied into the new Constitution. The prohibition of letters of marque is another part of the old system, but is somewhat extended in the new. According to the former, letters of marque could be granted by the States after a declaration of war; according to the latter, these licenses must be obtained, as well during war as previous to its declaration, from the government of the United States. This alteration is fully justified by the advantage of uniformity in all points which relate to foreign powers; and of immediate responsibility to the nation in all those for whose conduct the nation itself is to be responsible. The right of coining money, which is here taken from the States, was left in their hands by the Confederation, as a concurrent right with that of Congress, under an exception in favor of the exclusive right of Congress to regulate the alloy and value. In this instance, also, the new provision is an improvement on the old. Whilst the alloy and value depended on the general authority, a right of coinage in the particular States could have no other effect than to multiply expensive mints and diversify the forms and weights of the circulating pieces. The latter inconveniency defeats one purpose for which the power was originally submitted to the federal head; and as far as the former might prevent an inconvenient remittance of gold and silver to the central mint for recoinage, the end can be as well attained by local mints established under the general authority. The extension of the prohibition to bills of credit must give pleasure to every citizen, in proportion to his love of justice and his knowledge of the true springs of public prosperity. The loss which America has sustained since the peace, from the pestilent effects of paper money on the necessary confidence between man and man, on the necessary confidence in the public councils, on the industry and morals of the people, and on the character of republican government, constitutes an enormous debt against the States chargeable with this unadvised measure, which must long remain unsatisfied; or rather an accumulation of guilt, which can be expiated no otherwise than by a voluntary sacrifice on the altar of justice, of the power which has been the instrument of it. In addition to these persuasive considerations, it may be observed, that the same reasons which show the necessity of denying to the States the power of regulating coin, prove with equal force that they ought not to be at liberty to substitute a paper medium in the place of coin. Had every State a right to regulate the value of its coin, there might be as many different currencies as States, and thus the intercourse among them would be impeded; retrospective alterations in its value might be made, and thus the citizens of other States be injured, and animosities be kindled among the States themselves. The subjects of foreign powers might suffer from the same cause, and hence the Union be discredited and embroiled by the indiscretion of a single member. No one of these mischiefs is less incident to a power in the States to emit paper money, than to coin gold or silver. The power to make any thing but gold and silver a tender in payment of debts, is withdrawn from the States, on the same principle with that of issuing a paper currency. Bills of attainder, expostfacto laws, and laws impairing the obligation of contracts, are contrary to the first principles of the social compact, and to every principle of sound legislation. The two former are expressly prohibited by the declarations prefixed to some of the State constitutions, and all of them are prohibited by the spirit and scope of these fundamental charters. Our own experience has taught us, nevertheless, that additional fences against these dangers ought not to be omitted. Very properly, therefore, have the convention added this constitutional bulwark in favor of personal security and private rights; and I am much deceived if they have not, in so doing, as faithfully consulted the genuine sentiments as the undoubted interests of their constituents. The sober people of America are weary of the fluctuating policy which has directed the public councils. They have seen with regret and indignation that sudden changes and legislative interferences, in cases affecting personal rights, become jobs in the hands of enterprising and influential speculators, and snares to the moreindustrious and lessinformed part of the community. They have seen, too, that one legislative interference is but the first link of a long chain of repetitions, every subsequent interference being naturally produced by the effects of the preceding. They very rightly infer, therefore, that some thorough reform is wanting, which will banish speculations on public measures, inspire a general prudence and industry, and give a regular course to the business of society. The prohibition with respect to titles of nobility is copied from the articles of Confederation and needs no comment. 2. No State shall, without the consent of the Congress, lay any imposts or duties on imports or exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing its inspection laws, and the net produce of all duties and imposts laid by any State on imports or exports, shall be for the use of the treasury of the United States; and all such laws shall be subject to the revision and control of the Congress. No State shall, without the consent of Congress, lay any duty on tonnage, keep troops or ships of war in time of peace, enter into any agreement or compact with another State, or with a foreign power, or engage in war unless actually invaded, or in such imminent danger as will not admit of delay. The restraint on the power of the States over imports and exports is enforced by all the arguments which prove the necessity of submitting the regulation of trade to the federal councils. It is needless, therefore, to remark further on this head, than that the manner in which the restraint is qualified seems well calculated at once to secure to the States a reasonable discretion in providing for the conveniency of their imports and exports, and to the United States a reasonable check against the abuse of this discretion. The remaining particulars of this clause fall within reasonings which are either so obvious, or have been so fully developed, that they may be passed over without remark. The SIXTH and last class consists of the several powers and provisions by which efficacy is given to all the rest. 1. Of these the first is, the power to make all laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into execution the foregoing powers, and all other powers vested by this Constitution in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof. Few parts of the Constitution have been assailed with more intemperance than this; yet on a fair investigation of it, no part can appear more completely invulnerable. Without the SUBSTANCE of this power, the whole Constitution would be a dead letter. Those who object to the article, therefore, as a part of the Constitution, can only mean that the FORM of the provision is improper. But have they considered whether a better form could have been substituted? There are four other possible methods which the Constitution might have taken on this subject. They might have copied the second article of the existing Confederation, which would have prohibited the exercise of any power not EXPRESSLY delegated; they might have attempted a positive enumeration of the powers comprehended under the general terms necessary and proper; they might have attempted a negative enumeration of them, by specifying the powers excepted from the general definition; they might have been altogether silent on the subject, leaving these necessary and proper powers to construction and inference. Had the convention taken the first method of adopting the second article of Confederation, it is evident that the new Congress would be continually exposed, as their predecessors have been, to the alternative of construing the term EXPRESSLY with so much rigor, as to disarm the government of all real authority whatever, or with so much latitude as to destroy altogether the force of the restriction. It would be easy to show, if it were necessary, that no important power, delegated by the articles of Confederation, has been or can be executed by Congress, without recurring more or less to the doctrine of CONSTRUCTION or IMPLICATION. As the powers delegated under the new system are more extensive, the government which is to administer it would find itself still more distressed with the alternative of betraying the public interests by doing nothing, or of violating the Constitution by exercising powers indispensably necessary and proper, but, at the same time, not EXPRESSLY granted. Had the convention attempted a positive enumeration of the powers necessary and proper for carrying their other powers into effect, the attempt would have involved a complete digest of laws on every subject to which the Constitution relates; accommodated too, not only to the existing state of things, but to all the possible changes which futurity may produce; for in every new application of a general power, the PARTICULAR POWERS, which are the means of attaining the OBJECT of the general power, must always necessarily vary with that object, and be often properly varied whilst the object remains the same. Had they attempted to enumerate the particular powers or means not necessary or proper for carrying the general powers into execution, the task would have been no less chimerical; and would have been liable to this further objection, that every defect in the enumeration would have been equivalent to a positive grant of authority. If, to avoid this consequence, they had attempted a partial enumeration of the exceptions, and described the residue by the general terms, NOT NECESSARY OR PROPER, it must have happened that the enumeration would comprehend a few of the excepted powers only; that these would be such as would be least likely to be assumed or tolerated, because the enumeration would of course select such as would be least necessary or proper; and that the unnecessary and improper powers included in the residuum, would be less forcibly excepted, than if no partial enumeration had been made. Had the Constitution been silent on this head, there can be no doubt that all the particular powers requisite as means of executing the general powers would have resulted to the government, by unavoidable implication. No axiom is more clearly established in law, or in reason, than that wherever the end is required, the means are authorized; wherever a general power to do a thing is given, every particular power necessary for doing it is included. Had this last method, therefore, been pursued by the convention, every objection now urged against their plan would remain in all its plausibility; and the real inconveniency would be incurred of not removing a pretext which may be seized on critical occasions for drawing into question the essential powers of the Union. If it be asked what is to be the consequence, in case the Congress shall misconstrue this part of the Constitution, and exercise powers not warranted by its true meaning, I answer, the same as if they should misconstrue or enlarge any other power vested in them; as if the general power had been reduced to particulars, and any one of these were to be violated; the same, in short, as if the State legislatures should violate the irrespective constitutional authorities. In the first instance, the success of the usurpation will depend on the executive and judiciary departments, which are to expound and give effect to the legislative acts; and in the last resort a remedy must be obtained from the people who can, by the election of more faithful representatives, annul the acts of the usurpers. The truth is, that this ultimate redress may be more confided in against unconstitutional acts of the federal than of the State legislatures, for this plain reason, that as every such act of the former will be an invasion of the rights of the latter, these will be ever ready to mark the innovation, to sound the alarm to the people, and to exert their local influence in effecting a change of federal representatives. There being no such intermediate body between the State legislatures and the people interested in watching the conduct of the former, violations of the State constitutions are more likely to remain unnoticed and unredressed. 2. This Constitution and the laws of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof, and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land, and the judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any thing in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding. The indiscreet zeal of the adversaries to the Constitution has betrayed them into an attack on this part of it also, without which it would have been evidently and radically defective. To be fully sensible of this, we need only suppose for a moment that the supremacy of the State constitutions had been left complete by a saving clause in their favor. In the first place, as these constitutions invest the State legislatures with absolute sovereignty, in all cases not excepted by the existing articles of Confederation, all the authorities contained in the proposed Constitution, so far as they exceed those enumerated in the Confederation, would have been annulled, and the new Congress would have been reduced to the same impotent condition with their predecessors. In the next place, as the constitutions of some of the States do not even expressly and fully recognize the existing powers of the Confederacy, an express saving of the supremacy of the former would, in such States, have brought into question every power contained in the proposed Constitution. In the third place, as the constitutions of the States differ much from each other, it might happen that a treaty or national law, of great and equal importance to the States, would interfere with some and not with other constitutions, and would consequently be valid in some of the States, at the same time that it would have no effect in others. In fine, the world would have seen, for the first time, a system of government founded on an inversion of the fundamental principles of all government; it would have seen the authority of the whole society every where subordinate to the authority of the parts; it would have seen a monster, in which the head was under the direction of the members. 3. The Senators and Representatives, and the members of the several State legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and the several States, shall be bound by oath or affirmation to support this Constitution. It has been asked why it was thought necessary, that the State magistracy should be bound to support the federal Constitution, and unnecessary that a like oath should be imposed on the officers of the United States, in favor of the State constitutions. Several reasons might be assigned for the distinction. I content myself with one, which is obvious and conclusive. The members of the federal government will have no agency in carrying the State constitutions into effect. The members and officers of the State governments, on the contrary, will have an essential agency in giving effect to the federal Constitution. The election of the President and Senate will depend, in all cases, on the legislatures of the several States. And the election of the House of Representatives will equally depend on the same authority in the first instance; and will, probably, forever be conducted by the officers, and according to the laws, of the States. 4. Among the provisions for giving efficacy to the federal powers might be added those which belong to the executive and judiciary departments: but as these are reserved for particular examination in another place, I pass them over in this. We have now reviewed, in detail, all the articles composing the sum or quantity of power delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government, and are brought to this undeniable conclusion, that no part of the power is unnecessary or improper for accomplishing the necessary objects of the Union. The question, therefore, whether this amount of power shall be granted or not, resolves itself into another question, whether or not a government commensurate to the exigencies of the Union shall be established; or, in other words, whether the Union itself shall be preserved. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLV. The Alleged Danger From the Powers of the Union to the State Governments Considered For the Independent Journal. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Having shown that no one of the powers transferred to the federal government is unnecessary or improper, the next question to be considered is, whether the whole mass of them will be dangerous to the portion of authority left in the several States. The adversaries to the plan of the convention, instead of considering in the first place what degree of power was absolutely necessary for the purposes of the federal government, have exhausted themselves in a secondary inquiry into the possible consequences of the proposed degree of power to the governments of the particular States. But if the Union, as has been shown, be essential to the security of the people of America against foreign danger; if it be essential to their security against contentions and wars among the different States; if it be essential to guard them against those violent and oppressive factions which embitter the blessings of liberty, and against those military establishments which must gradually poison its very fountain; if, in a word, the Union be essential to the happiness of the people of America, is it not preposterous, to urge as an objection to a government, without which the objects of the Union cannot be attained, that such a government may derogate from the importance of the governments of the individual States? Was, then, the American Revolution effected, was the American Confederacy formed, was the precious blood of thousands spilt, and the hardearned substance of millions lavished, not that the people of America should enjoy peace, liberty, and safety, but that the government of the individual States, that particular municipal establishments, might enjoy a certain extent of power, and be arrayed with certain dignities and attributes of sovereignty? We have heard of the impious doctrine in the Old World, that the people were made for kings, not kings for the people. Is the same doctrine to be revived in the New, in another shape that the solid happiness of the people is to be sacrificed to the views of political institutions of a different form? It is too early for politicians to presume on our forgetting that the public good, the real welfare of the great body of the people, is the supreme object to be pursued; and that no form of government whatever has any other value than as it may be fitted for the attainment of this object. Were the plan of the convention adverse to the public happiness, my voice would be, Reject the plan. Were the Union itself inconsistent with the public happiness, it would be, Abolish the Union. In like manner, as far as the sovereignty of the States cannot be reconciled to the happiness of the people, the voice of every good citizen must be, Let the former be sacrificed to the latter. How far the sacrifice is necessary, has been shown. How far the unsacrificed residue will be endangered, is the question before us. Several important considerations have been touched in the course of these papers, which discountenance the supposition that the operation of the federal government will by degrees prove fatal to the State governments. The more I revolve the subject, the more fully I am persuaded that the balance is much more likely to be disturbed by the preponderancy of the last than of the first scale. We have seen, in all the examples of ancient and modern confederacies, the strongest tendency continually betraying itself in the members, to despoil the general government of its authorities, with a very ineffectual capacity in the latter to defend itself against the encroachments. Although, in most of these examples, the system has been so dissimilar from that under consideration as greatly to weaken any inference concerning the latter from the fate of the former, yet, as the States will retain, under the proposed Constitution, a very extensive portion of active sovereignty, the inference ought not to be wholly disregarded. In the Achaean league it is probable that the federal head had a degree and species of power, which gave it a considerable likeness to the government framed by the convention. The Lycian Confederacy, as far as its principles and form are transmitted, must have borne a still greater analogy to it. Yet history does not inform us that either of them ever degenerated, or tended to degenerate, into one consolidated government. On the contrary, we know that the ruin of one of them proceeded from the incapacity of the federal authority to prevent the dissensions, and finally the disunion, of the subordinate authorities. These cases are the more worthy of our attention, as the external causes by which the component parts were pressed together were much more numerous and powerful than in our case; and consequently less powerful ligaments within would be sufficient to bind the members to the head, and to each other. In the feudal system, we have seen a similar propensity exemplified. Notwithstanding the want of proper sympathy in every instance between the local sovereigns and the people, and the sympathy in some instances between the general sovereign and the latter, it usually happened that the local sovereigns prevailed in the rivalship for encroachments. Had no external dangers enforced internal harmony and subordination, and particularly, had the local sovereigns possessed the affections of the people, the great kingdoms in Europe would at this time consist of as many independent princes as there were formerly feudatory barons. The State government will have the advantage of the Federal government, whether we compare them in respect to the immediate dependence of the one on the other; to the weight of personal influence which each side will possess; to the powers respectively vested in them; to the predilection and probable support of the people; to the disposition and faculty of resisting and frustrating the measures of each other. The State governments may be regarded as constituent and essential parts of the federal government; whilst the latter is nowise essential to the operation or organization of the former. Without the intervention of the State legislatures, the President of the United States cannot be elected at all. They must in all cases have a great share in his appointment, and will, perhaps, in most cases, of themselves determine it. The Senate will be elected absolutely and exclusively by the State legislatures. Even the House of Representatives, though drawn immediately from the people, will be chosen very much under the influence of that class of men, whose influence over the people obtains for themselves an election into the State legislatures. Thus, each of the principal branches of the federal government will owe its existence more or less to the favor of the State governments, and must consequently feel a dependence, which is much more likely to beget a disposition too obsequious than too overbearing towards them. On the other side, the component parts of the State governments will in no instance be indebted for their appointment to the direct agency of the federal government, and very little, if at all, to the local influence of its members. The number of individuals employed under the Constitution of the United States will be much smaller than the number employed under the particular States. There will consequently be less of personal influence on the side of the former than of the latter. The members of the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments of thirteen and more States, the justices of peace, officers of militia, ministerial officers of justice, with all the county, corporation, and town officers, for three millions and more of people, intermixed, and having particular acquaintance with every class and circle of people, must exceed, beyond all proportion, both in number and influence, those of every description who will be employed in the administration of the federal system. Compare the members of the three great departments of the thirteen States, excluding from the judiciary department the justices of peace, with the members of the corresponding departments of the single government of the Union; compare the militia officers of three millions of people with the military and marine officers of any establishment which is within the compass of probability, or, I may add, of possibility, and in this view alone, we may pronounce the advantage of the States to be decisive. If the federal government is to have collectors of revenue, the State governments will have theirs also. And as those of the former will be principally on the seacoast, and not very numerous, whilst those of the latter will be spread over the face of the country, and will be very numerous, the advantage in this view also lies on the same side. I t is true, that the Confederacy is to possess, and may exercise, the power of collecting internal as well as external taxes throughout the States; but it is probable that this power will not be resorted to, except for supplemental purposes of revenue; that an option will then be given to the States to supply their quotas by previous collections of their own; and that the eventual collection, under the immediate authority of the Union, will generally be made by the officers, and according to the rules, appointed by the several States. Indeed it is extremely probable, that in other instances, particularly in the organization of the judicial power, the officers of the States will be clothed with the correspondent authority of the Union. Should it happen, however, that separate collectors of internal revenue should be appointed under the federal government, the influence of the whole number would not bear a comparison with that of the multitude of State officers in the opposite scale. Within every district to which a federal collector would be allotted, there would not be less than thirty or forty, or even more, officers of different descriptions, and many of them persons of character and weight, whose influence would lie on the side of the State. The powers delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government are few and defined. Those which are to remain in the State governments are numerous and indefinite. The former will be exercised principally on external objects, as war, peace, negotiation, and foreign commerce; with which last the power of taxation will, for the most part, be connected. The powers reserved to the several States will extend to all the objects which, in the ordinary course of affairs, concern the lives, liberties, and properties of the people, and the internal order, improvement, and prosperity of the State. The operations of the federal government will be most extensive and important in times of war and danger; those of the State governments, in times of peace and security. As the former periods will probably bear a small proportion to the latter, the State governments will here enjoy another advantage over the federal government. The more adequate, indeed, the federal powers may be rendered to the national defense, the less frequent will be those scenes of danger which might favor their ascendancy over the governments of the particular States. If the new Constitution be examined with accuracy and candor, it will be found that the change which it proposes consists much less in the addition of NEW POWERS to the Union, than in the invigoration of its ORIGINAL POWERS. The regulation of commerce, it is true, is a new power; but that seems to be an addition which few oppose, and from which no apprehensions are entertained. The powers relating to war and peace, armies and fleets, treaties and finance, with the other more considerable powers, are all vested in the existing Congress by the articles of Confederation. The proposed change does not enlarge these powers; it only substitutes a more effectual mode of administering them. The change relating to taxation may be regarded as the most important; and yet the present Congress have as complete authority to REQUIRE of the States indefinite supplies of money for the common defense and general welfare, as the future Congress will have to require them of individual citizens; and the latter will be no more bound than the States themselves have been, to pay the quotas respectively taxed on them. Had the States complied punctually with the articles of Confederation, or could their compliance have been enforced by as peaceable means as may be used with success towards single persons, our past experience is very far from countenancing an opinion, that the State governments would have lost their constitutional powers, and have gradually undergone an entire consolidation. To maintain that such an event would have ensued, would be to say at once, that the existence of the State governments is incompatible with any system whatever that accomplishes the essential purposes of the Union. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLVI. The Influence of the State and Federal Governments Compared From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 29, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Resuming the subject of the last paper, I proceed to inquire whether the federal government or the State governments will have the advantage with regard to the predilection and support of the people. Notwithstanding the different modes in which they are appointed, we must consider both of them as substantially dependent on the great body of the citizens of the United States. I assume this position here as it respects the first, reserving the proofs for another place. The federal and State governments are in fact but different agents and trustees of the people, constituted with different powers, and designed for different purposes. The adversaries of the Constitution seem to have lost sight of the people altogether in their reasonings on this subject; and to have viewed these different establishments, not only as mutual rivals and enemies, but as uncontrolled by any common superior in their efforts to usurp the authorities of each other. These gentlemen must here be reminded of their error. They must be told that the ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone, and that it will not depend merely on the comparative ambition or address of the different governments, whether either, or which of them, will be able to enlarge its sphere of jurisdiction at the expense of the other. Truth, no less than decency, requires that the event in every case should be supposed to depend on the sentiments and sanction of their common constituents. Many considerations, besides those suggested on a former occasion, seem to place it beyond doubt that the first and most natural attachment of the people will be to the governments of their respective States. Into the administration of these a greater number of individuals will expect to rise. From the gift of these a greater number of offices and emoluments will flow. By the superintending care of these, all the more domestic and personal interests of the people will be regulated and provided for. With the affairs of these, the people will be more familiarly and minutely conversant. And with the members of these, will a greater proportion of the people have the ties of personal acquaintance and friendship, and of family and party attachments; on the side of these, therefore, the popular bias may well be expected most strongly to incline. Experience speaks the same language in this case. The federal administration, though hitherto very defective in comparison with what may be hoped under a better system, had, during the war, and particularly whilst the independent fund of paper emissions was in credit, an activity and importance as great as it can well have in any future circumstances whatever. It was engaged, too, in a course of measures which had for their object the protection of everything that was dear, and the acquisition of everything that could be desirable to the people at large. It was, nevertheless, invariably found, after the transient enthusiasm for the early Congresses was over, that the attention and attachment of the people were turned anew to their own particular governments; that the federal council was at no time the idol of popular favor; and that opposition to proposed enlargements of its powers and importance was the side usually taken by the men who wished to build their political consequence on the prepossessions of their fellowcitizens. If, therefore, as has been elsewhere remarked, the people should in future become more partial to the federal than to the State governments, the change can only result from such manifest and irresistible proofs of a better administration, as will overcome all their antecedent propensities. And in that case, the people ought not surely to be precluded from giving most of their confidence where they may discover it to be most due; but even in that case the State governments could have little to apprehend, because it is only within a certain sphere that the federal power can, in the nature of things, be advantageously administered. The remaining points on which I propose to compare the federal and State governments, are the disposition and the faculty they may respectively possess, to resist and frustrate the measures of each other. It has been already proved that the members of the federal will be more dependent on the members of the State governments, than the latter will be on the former. It has appeared also, that the prepossessions of the people, on whom both will depend, will be more on the side of the State governments, than of the federal government. So far as the disposition of each towards the other may be influenced by these causes, the State governments must clearly have the advantage. But in a distinct and very important point of view, the advantage will lie on the same side. The prepossessions, which the members themselves will carry into the federal government, will generally be favorable to the States; whilst it will rarely happen, that the members of the State governments will carry into the public councils a bias in favor of the general government. A local spirit will infallibly prevail much more in the members of Congress, than a national spirit will prevail in the legislatures of the particular States. Every one knows that a great proportion of the errors committed by the State legislatures proceeds from the disposition of the members to sacrifice the comprehensive and permanent interest of the State, to the particular and separate views of the counties or districts in which they reside. And if they do not sufficiently enlarge their policy to embrace the collective welfare of their particular State, how can it be imagined that they will make the aggregate prosperity of the Union, and the dignity and respectability of its government, the objects of their affections and consultations? For the same reason that the members of the State legislatures will be unlikely to attach themselves sufficiently to national objects, the members of the federal legislature will be likely to attach themselves too much to local objects. The States will be to the latter what counties and towns are to the former. Measures will too often be decided according to their probable effect, not on the national prosperity and happiness, but on the prejudices, interests, and pursuits of the governments and people of the individual States. What is the spirit that has in general characterized the proceedings of Congress? A perusal of their journals, as well as the candid acknowledgments of such as have had a seat in that assembly, will inform us, that the members have but too frequently displayed the character, rather of partisans of their respective States, than of impartial guardians of a common interest; that where on one occasion improper sacrifices have been made of local considerations, to the aggrandizement of the federal government, the great interests of the nation have suffered on a hundred, from an undue attention to the local prejudices, interests, and views of the particular States. I mean not by these reflections to insinuate, that the new federal government will not embrace a more enlarged plan of policy than the existing government may have pursued; much less, that its views will be as confined as those of the State legislatures; but only that it will partake sufficiently of the spirit of both, to be disinclined to invade the rights of the individual States, or the preorgatives of their governments. The motives on the part of the State governments, to augment their prerogatives by defalcations from the federal government, will be overruled by no reciprocal predispositions in the members. Were it admitted, however, that the Federal government may feel an equal disposition with the State governments to extend its power beyond the due limits, the latter would still have the advantage in the means of defeating such encroachments. If an act of a particular State, though unfriendly to the national government, be generally popular in that State and should not too grossly violate the oaths of the State officers, it is executed immediately and, of course, by means on the spot and depending on the State alone. The opposition of the federal government, or the interposition of federal officers, would but inflame the zeal of all parties on the side of the State, and the evil could not be prevented or repaired, if at all, without the employment of means which must always be resorted to with reluctance and difficulty. On the other hand, should an unwarrantable measure of the federal government be unpopular in particular States, which would seldom fail to be the case, or even a warrantable measure be so, which may sometimes be the case, the means of opposition to it are powerful and at hand. The disquietude of the people; their repugnance and, perhaps, refusal to cooperate with the officers of the Union; the frowns of the executive magistracy of the State; the embarrassments created by legislative devices, which would often be added on such occasions, would oppose, in any State, difficulties not to be despised; would form, in a large State, very serious impediments; and where the sentiments of several adjoining States happened to be in unison, would present obstructions which the federal government would hardly be willing to encounter. But ambitious encroachments of the federal government, on the authority of the State governments, would not excite the opposition of a single State, or of a few States only. They would be signals of general alarm. Every government would espouse the common cause. A correspondence would be opened. Plans of resistance would be concerted. One spirit would animate and conduct the whole. The same combinations, in short, would result from an apprehension of the federal, as was produced by the dread of a foreign, yoke; and unless the projected innovations should be voluntarily renounced, the same appeal to a trial of force would be made in the one case as was made in the other. But what degree of madness could ever drive the federal government to such an extremity. In the contest with Great Britain, one part of the empire was employed against the other. The more numerous part invaded the rights of the less numerous part. The attempt was unjust and unwise; but it was not in speculation absolutely chimerical. But what would be the contest in the case we are supposing? Who would be the parties? A few representatives of the people would be opposed to the people themselves; or rather one set of representatives would be contending against thirteen sets of representatives, with the whole body of their common constituents on the side of the latter. The only refuge left for those who prophesy the downfall of the State governments is the visionary supposition that the federal government may previously accumulate a military force for the projects of ambition. The reasonings contained in these papers must have been employed to little purpose indeed, if it could be necessary now to disprove the reality of this danger. That the people and the States should, for a sufficient period of time, elect an uninterrupted succession of men ready to betray both; that the traitors should, throughout this period, uniformly and systematically pursue some fixed plan for the extension of the military establishment; that the governments and the people of the States should silently and patiently behold the gathering storm, and continue to supply the materials, until it should be prepared to burst on their own heads, must appear to every one more like the incoherent dreams of a delirious jealousy, or the misjudged exaggerations of a counterfeit zeal, than like the sober apprehensions of genuine patriotism. Extravagant as the supposition is, let it however be made. Let a regular army, fully equal to the resources of the country, be formed; and let it be entirely at the devotion of the federal government; still it would not be going too far to say, that the State governments, with the people on their side, would be able to repel the danger. The highest number to which, according to the best computation, a standing army can be carried in any country, does not exceed one hundredth part of the whole number of souls; or one twentyfifth part of the number able to bear arms. This proportion would not yield, in the United States, an army of more than twentyfive or thirty thousand men. To these would be opposed a militia amounting to near half a million of citizens with arms in their hands, officered by men chosen from among themselves, fighting for their common liberties, and united and conducted by governments possessing their affections and confidence. It may well be doubted, whether a militia thus circumstanced could ever be conquered by such a proportion of regular troops. Those who are best acquainted with the last successful resistance of this country against the British arms, will be most inclined to deny the possibility of it. Besides the advantage of being armed, which the Americans possess over the people of almost every other nation, the existence of subordinate governments, to which the people are attached, and by which the militia officers are appointed, forms a barrier against the enterprises of ambition, more insurmountable than any which a simple government of any form can admit of. Notwithstanding the military establishments in the several kingdoms of Europe, which are carried as far as the public resources will bear, the governments are afraid to trust the people with arms. And it is not certain, that with this aid alone they would not be able to shake off their yokes. But were the people to possess the additional advantages of local governments chosen by themselves, who could collect the national will and direct the national force, and of officers appointed out of the militia, by these governments, and attached both to them and to the militia, it may be affirmed with the greatest assurance, that the throne of every tyranny in Europe would be speedily overturned in spite of the legions which surround it. Let us not insult the free and gallant citizens of America with the suspicion, that they would be less able to defend the rights of which they would be in actual possession, than the debased subjects of arbitrary power would be to rescue theirs from the hands of their oppressors. Let us rather no longer insult them with the supposition that they can ever reduce themselves to the necessity of making the experiment, by a blind and tame submission to the long train of insidious measures which must precede and produce it. The argument under the present head may be put into a very concise form, which appears altogether conclusive. Either the mode in which the federal government is to be constructed will render it sufficiently dependent on the people, or it will not. On the first supposition, it will be restrained by that dependence from forming schemes obnoxious to their constituents. On the other supposition, it will not possess the confidence of the people, and its schemes of usurpation will be easily defeated by the State governments, who will be supported by the people. On summing up the considerations stated in this and the last paper, they seem to amount to the most convincing evidence, that the powers proposed to be lodged in the federal government are as little formidable to those reserved to the individual States, as they are indispensably necessary to accomplish the purposes of the Union; and that all those alarms which have been sounded, of a meditated and consequential annihilation of the State governments, must, on the most favorable interpretation, be ascribed to the chimerical fears of the authors of them. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLVII. The Particular Structure of the New Government and the Distribution of Power Among Its Different Parts From the New York Packet. Friday, February 1, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Having reviewed the general form of the proposed government and the general mass of power allotted to it, I proceed to examine the particular structure of this government, and the distribution of this mass of power among its constituent parts. One of the principal objections inculcated by the more respectable adversaries to the Constitution, is its supposed violation of the political maxim, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments ought to be separate and distinct. In the structure of the federal government, no regard, it is said, seems to have been paid to this essential precaution in favor of liberty. The several departments of power are distributed and blended in such a manner as at once to destroy all symmetry and beauty of form, and to expose some of the essential parts of the edifice to the danger of being crushed by the disproportionate weight of other parts. No political truth is certainly of greater intrinsic value, or is stamped with the authority of more enlightened patrons of liberty, than that on which the objection is founded. The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, selfappointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny. Were the federal Constitution, therefore, really chargeable with the accumulation of power, or with a mixture of powers, having a dangerous tendency to such an accumulation, no further arguments would be necessary to inspire a universal reprobation of the system. I persuade myself, however, that it will be made apparent to every one, that the charge cannot be supported, and that the maxim on which it relies has been totally misconceived and misapplied. In order to form correct ideas on this important subject, it will be proper to investigate the sense in which the preservation of liberty requires that the three great departments of power should be separate and distinct. The oracle who is always consulted and cited on this subject is the celebrated Montesquieu. If he be not the author of this invaluable precept in the science of politics, he has the merit at least of displaying and recommending it most effectually to the attention of mankind. Let us endeavor, in the first place, to ascertain his meaning on this point. The British Constitution was to Montesquieu what Homer has been to the didactic writers on epic poetry. As the latter have considered the work of the immortal bard as the perfect model from which the principles and rules of the epic art were to be drawn, and by which all similar works were to be judged, so this great political critic appears to have viewed the Constitution of England as the standard, or to use his own expression, as the mirror of political liberty; and to have delivered, in the form of elementary truths, the several characteristic principles of that particular system. That we may be sure, then, not to mistake his meaning in this case, let us recur to the source from which the maxim was drawn. On the slightest view of the British Constitution, we must perceive that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are by no means totally separate and distinct from each other. The executive magistrate forms an integral part of the legislative authority. He alone has the prerogative of making treaties with foreign sovereigns, which, when made, have, under certain limitations, the force of legislative acts. All the members of the judiciary department are appointed by him, can be removed by him on the address of the two Houses of Parliament, and form, when he pleases to consult them, one of his constitutional councils. One branch of the legislative department forms also a great constitutional council to the executive chief, as, on another hand, it is the sole depositary of judicial power in cases of impeachment, and is invested with the supreme appellate jurisdiction in all other cases. The judges, again, are so far connected with the legislative department as often to attend and participate in its deliberations, though not admitted to a legislative vote. From these facts, by which Montesquieu was guided, it may clearly be inferred that, in saying There can be no liberty where the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, or body of magistrates, or, if the power of judging be not separated from the legislative and executive powers, he did not mean that these departments ought to have no PARTIAL AGENCY in, or no CONTROL over, the acts of each other. His meaning, as his own words import, and still more conclusively as illustrated by the example in his eye, can amount to no more than this, that where the WHOLE power of one department is exercised by the same hands which possess the WHOLE power of another department, the fundamental principles of a free constitution are subverted. This would have been the case in the constitution examined by him, if the king, who is the sole executive magistrate, had possessed also the complete legislative power, or the supreme administration of justice; or if the entire legislative body had possessed the supreme judiciary, or the supreme executive authority. This, however, is not among the vices of that constitution. The magistrate in whom the whole executive power resides cannot of himself make a law, though he can put a negative on every law; nor administer justice in person, though he has the appointment of those who do administer it. The judges can exercise no executive prerogative, though they are shoots from the executive stock; nor any legislative function, though they may be advised with by the legislative councils. The entire legislature can perform no judiciary act, though by the joint act of two of its branches the judges may be removed from their offices, and though one of its branches is possessed of the judicial power in the last resort. The entire legislature, again, can exercise no executive prerogative, though one of its branches constitutes the supreme executive magistracy, and another, on the impeachment of a third, can try and condemn all the subordinate officers in the executive department. The reasons on which Montesquieu grounds his maxim are a further demonstration of his meaning. When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person or body, says he, there can be no liberty, because apprehensions may arise lest THE SAME monarch or senate should ENACT tyrannical laws to EXECUTE them in a tyrannical manner.  Again: Were the power of judging joined with the legislative, the life and liberty of the subject would be exposed to arbitrary control, for THE JUDGE would then be THE LEGISLATOR. Were it joined to the executive power, THE JUDGE might behave with all the violence of AN OPPRESSOR.  Some of these reasons are more fully explained in other passages; but briefly stated as they are here, they sufficiently establish the meaning which we have put on this celebrated maxim of this celebrated author. If we look into the constitutions of the several States, we find that, notwithstanding the emphatical and, in some instances, the unqualified terms in which this axiom has been laid down, there is not a single instance in which the several departments of power have been kept absolutely separate and distinct. New Hampshire, whose constitution was the last formed, seems to have been fully aware of the impossibility and inexpediency of avoiding any mixture whatever of these departments, and has qualified the doctrine by declaring that the legislative, executive, and judiciary powers ought to be kept as separate from, and independent of, each other AS THE NATURE OF A FREE GOVERNMENT WILL ADMIT; OR AS IS CONSISTENT WITH THAT CHAIN OF CONNECTION THAT BINDS THE WHOLE FABRIC OF THE CONSTITUTION IN ONE INDISSOLUBLE BOND OF UNITY AND AMITY.  Her constitution accordingly mixes these departments in several respects. The Senate, which is a branch of the legislative department, is also a judicial tribunal for the trial of impeachments. The President, who is the head of the executive department, is the presiding member also of the Senate; and, besides an equal vote in all cases, has a casting vote in case of a tie. The executive head is himself eventually elective every year by the legislative department, and his council is every year chosen by and from the members of the same department. Several of the officers of state are also appointed by the legislature. And the members of the judiciary department are appointed by the executive department. The constitution of Massachusetts has observed a sufficient though less pointed caution, in expressing this fundamental article of liberty. It declares that the legislative department shall never exercise the executive and judicial powers, or either of them; the executive shall never exercise the legislative and judicial powers, or either of them; the judicial shall never exercise the legislative and executive powers, or either of them.  This declaration corresponds precisely with the doctrine of Montesquieu, as it has been explained, and is not in a single point violated by the plan of the convention. It goes no farther than to prohibit any one of the entire departments from exercising the powers of another department. In the very Constitution to which it is prefixed, a partial mixture of powers has been admitted. The executive magistrate has a qualified negative on the legislative body, and the Senate, which is a part of the legislature, is a court of impeachment for members both of the executive and judiciary departments. The members of the judiciary department, again, are appointable by the executive department, and removable by the same authority on the address of the two legislative branches. Lastly, a number of the officers of government are annually appointed by the legislative department. As the appointment to offices, particularly executive offices, is in its nature an executive function, the compilers of the Constitution have, in this last point at least, violated the rule established by themselves. I pass over the constitutions of Rhode Island and Connecticut, because they were formed prior to the Revolution, and even before the principle under examination had become an object of political attention. The constitution of New York contains no declaration on this subject; but appears very clearly to have been framed with an eye to the danger of improperly blending the different departments. It gives, nevertheless, to the executive magistrate, a partial control over the legislative department; and, what is more, gives a like control to the judiciary department; and even blends the executive and judiciary departments in the exercise of this control. In its council of appointment members of the legislative are associated with the executive authority, in the appointment of officers, both executive and judiciary. And its court for the trial of impeachments and correction of errors is to consist of one branch of the legislature and the principal members of the judiciary department. The constitution of New Jersey has blended the different powers of government more than any of the preceding. The governor, who is the executive magistrate, is appointed by the legislature; is chancellor and ordinary, or surrogate of the State; is a member of the Supreme Court of Appeals, and president, with a casting vote, of one of the legislative branches. The same legislative branch acts again as executive council of the governor, and with him constitutes the Court of Appeals. The members of the judiciary department are appointed by the legislative department and removable by one branch of it, on the impeachment of the other. According to the constitution of Pennsylvania, the president, who is the head of the executive department, is annually elected by a vote in which the legislative department predominates. In conjunction with an executive council, he appoints the members of the judiciary department, and forms a court of impeachment for trial of all officers, judiciary as well as executive. The judges of the Supreme Court and justices of the peace seem also to be removable by the legislature; and the executive power of pardoning in certain cases, to be referred to the same department. The members of the executive council are made EXOFFICIO justices of peace throughout the State. In Delaware, the chief executive magistrate is annually elected by the legislative department. The speakers of the two legislative branches are vicepresidents in the executive department. The executive chief, with six others, appointed, three by each of the legislative branches constitutes the Supreme Court of Appeals; he is joined with the legislative department in the appointment of the other judges. Throughout the States, it appears that the members of the legislature may at the same time be justices of the peace; in this State, the members of one branch of it are EXOFFICIO justices of the peace; as are also the members of the executive council. The principal officers of the executive department are appointed by the legislative; and one branch of the latter forms a court of impeachments. All officers may be removed on address of the legislature. Maryland has adopted the maxim in the most unqualified terms; declaring that the legislative, executive, and judicial powers of government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other. Her constitution, notwithstanding, makes the executive magistrate appointable by the legislative department; and the members of the judiciary by the executive department. The language of Virginia is still more pointed on this subject. Her constitution declares, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct; so that neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other; nor shall any person exercise the powers of more than one of them at the same time, except that the justices of county courts shall be eligible to either House of Assembly.  Yet we find not only this express exception, with respect to the members of the inferior courts, but that the chief magistrate, with his executive council, are appointable by the legislature; that two members of the latter are triennially displaced at the pleasure of the legislature; and that all the principal offices, both executive and judiciary, are filled by the same department. The executive prerogative of pardon, also, is in one case vested in the legislative department. The constitution of North Carolina, which declares that the legislative, executive, and supreme judicial powers of government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other, refers, at the same time, to the legislative department, the appointment not only of the executive chief, but all the principal officers within both that and the judiciary department. In South Carolina, the constitution makes the executive magistracy eligible by the legislative department. It gives to the latter, also, the appointment of the members of the judiciary department, including even justices of the peace and sheriffs; and the appointment of officers in the executive department, down to captains in the army and navy of the State. In the constitution of Georgia, where it is declared that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct, so that neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other, we find that the executive department is to be filled by appointments of the legislature; and the executive prerogative of pardon to be finally exercised by the same authority. Even justices of the peace are to be appointed by the legislature. In citing these cases, in which the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments have not been kept totally separate and distinct, I wish not to be regarded as an advocate for the particular organizations of the several State governments. I am fully aware that among the many excellent principles which they exemplify, they carry strong marks of the haste, and still stronger of the inexperience, under which they were framed. It is but too obvious that in some instances the fundamental principle under consideration has been violated by too great a mixture, and even an actual consolidation, of the different powers; and that in no instance has a competent provision been made for maintaining in practice the separation delineated on paper. What I have wished to evince is, that the charge brought against the proposed Constitution, of violating the sacred maxim of free government, is warranted neither by the real meaning annexed to that maxim by its author, nor by the sense in which it has hitherto been understood in America. This interesting subject will be resumed in the ensuing paper. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLVIII. These Departments Should Not Be So Far Separated as to Have No Constitutional Control Over Each Other From the New York Packet. Friday, February 1, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: It was shown in the last paper that the political apothegm there examined does not require that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments should be wholly unconnected with each other. I shall undertake, in the next place, to show that unless these departments be so far connected and blended as to give to each a constitutional control over the others, the degree of separation which the maxim requires, as essential to a free government, can never in practice be duly maintained. It is agreed on all sides, that the powers properly belonging to one of the departments ought not to be directly and completely administered by either of the other departments. It is equally evident, that none of them ought to possess, directly or indirectly, an overruling influence over the others, in the administration of their respective powers. It will not be denied, that power is of an encroaching nature, and that it ought to be effectually restrained from passing the limits assigned to it. After discriminating, therefore, in theory, the several classes of power, as they may in their nature be legislative, executive, or judiciary, the next and most difficult task is to provide some practical security for each, against the invasion of the others. What this security ought to be, is the great problem to be solved. Will it be sufficient to mark, with precision, the boundaries of these departments, in the constitution of the government, and to trust to these parchment barriers against the encroaching spirit of power? This is the security which appears to have been principally relied on by the compilers of most of the American constitutions. But experience assures us, that the efficacy of the provision has been greatly overrated; and that some more adequate defense is indispensably necessary for the more feeble, against the more powerful, members of the government. The legislative department is everywhere extending the sphere of its activity, and drawing all power into its impetuous vortex. The founders of our republics have so much merit for the wisdom which they have displayed, that no task can be less pleasing than that of pointing out the errors into which they have fallen. A respect for truth, however, obliges us to remark, that they seem never for a moment to have turned their eyes from the danger to liberty from the overgrown and allgrasping prerogative of an hereditary magistrate, supported and fortified by an hereditary branch of the legislative authority. They seem never to have recollected the danger from legislative usurpations, which, by assembling all power in the same hands, must lead to the same tyranny as is threatened by executive usurpations. In a government where numerous and extensive prerogatives are placed in the hands of an hereditary monarch, the executive department is very justly regarded as the source of danger, and watched with all the jealousy which a zeal for liberty ought to inspire. In a democracy, where a multitude of people exercise in person the legislative functions, and are continually exposed, by their incapacity for regular deliberation and concerted measures, to the ambitious intrigues of their executive magistrates, tyranny may well be apprehended, on some favorable emergency, to start up in the same quarter. But in a representative republic, where the executive magistracy is carefully limited; both in the extent and the duration of its power; and where the legislative power is exercised by an assembly, which is inspired, by a supposed influence over the people, with an intrepid confidence in its own strength; which is sufficiently numerous to feel all the passions which actuate a multitude, yet not so numerous as to be incapable of pursuing the objects of its passions, by means which reason prescribes; it is against the enterprising ambition of this department that the people ought to indulge all their jealousy and exhaust all their precautions. The legislative department derives a superiority in our governments from other circumstances. Its constitutional powers being at once more extensive, and less susceptible of precise limits, it can, with the greater facility, mask, under complicated and indirect measures, the encroachments which it makes on the coordinate departments. It is not unfrequently a question of real nicety in legislative bodies, whether the operation of a particular measure will, or will not, extend beyond the legislative sphere. On the other side, the executive power being restrained within a narrower compass, and being more simple in its nature, and the judiciary being described by landmarks still less uncertain, projects of usurpation by either of these departments would immediately betray and defeat themselves. Nor is this all: as the legislative department alone has access to the pockets of the people, and has in some constitutions full discretion, and in all a prevailing influence, over the pecuniary rewards of those who fill the other departments, a dependence is thus created in the latter, which gives still greater facility to encroachments of the former. I have appealed to our own experience for the truth of what I advance on this subject. Were it necessary to verify this experience by particular proofs, they might be multiplied without end. I might find a witness in every citizen who has shared in, or been attentive to, the course of public administrations. I might collect vouchers in abundance from the records and archives of every State in the Union. But as a more concise, and at the same time equally satisfactory, evidence, I will refer to the example of two States, attested by two unexceptionable authorities. The first example is that of Virginia, a State which, as we have seen, has expressly declared in its constitution, that the three great departments ought not to be intermixed. The authority in support of it is Mr. Jefferson, who, besides his other advantages for remarking the operation of the government, was himself the chief magistrate of it. In order to convey fully the ideas with which his experience had impressed him on this subject, it will be necessary to quote a passage of some length from his very interesting Notes on the State of Virginia, p. 195. All the powers of government, legislative, executive, and judiciary, result to the legislative body. The concentrating these in the same hands, is precisely the definition of despotic government. It will be no alleviation, that these powers will be exercised by a plurality of hands, and not by a single one. One hundred and seventythree despots would surely be as oppressive as one. Let those who doubt it, turn their eyes on the republic of Venice. As little will it avail us, that they are chosen by ourselves. An ELECTIVE DESPOTISM was not the government we fought for; but one which should not only be founded on free principles, but in which the powers of government should be so divided and balanced among several bodies of magistracy, as that no one could transcend their legal limits, without being effectually checked and restrained by the others. For this reason, that convention which passed the ordinance of government, laid its foundation on this basis, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments should be separate and distinct, so that no person should exercise the powers of more than one of them at the same time. BUT NO BARRIER WAS PROVIDED BETWEEN THESE SEVERAL POWERS. The judiciary and the executive members were left dependent on the legislative for their subsistence in office, and some of them for their continuance in it. If, therefore, the legislature assumes executive and judiciary powers, no opposition is likely to be made; nor, if made, can be effectual; because in that case they may put their proceedings into the form of acts of Assembly, which will render them obligatory on the other branches. They have accordingly, IN MANY instances, DECIDED RIGHTS which should have been left to JUDICIARY CONTROVERSY, and THE DIRECTION OF THE EXECUTIVE, DURING THE WHOLE TIME OF THEIR SESSION, IS BECOMING HABITUAL AND FAMILIAR. The other State which I shall take for an example is Pennsylvania; and the other authority, the Council of Censors, which assembled in the years 1783 and 1784. A part of the duty of this body, as marked out by the constitution, was to inquire whether the constitution had been preserved inviolate in every part; and whether the legislative and executive branches of government had performed their duty as guardians of the people, or assumed to themselves, or exercised, other or greater powers than they are entitled to by the constitution.  In the execution of this trust, the council were necessarily led to a comparison of both the legislative and executive proceedings, with the constitutional powers of these departments; and from the facts enumerated, and to the truth of most of which both sides in the council subscribed, it appears that the constitution had been flagrantly violated by the legislature in a variety of important instances. A great number of laws had been passed, violating, without any apparent necessity, the rule requiring that all bills of a public nature shall be previously printed for the consideration of the people; although this is one of the precautions chiefly relied on by the constitution against improper acts of legislature. The constitutional trial by jury had been violated, and powers assumed which had not been delegated by the constitution. Executive powers had been usurped. The salaries of the judges, which the constitution expressly requires to be fixed, had been occasionally varied; and cases belonging to the judiciary department frequently drawn within legislative cognizance and determination. Those who wish to see the several particulars falling under each of these heads, may consult the journals of the council, which are in print. Some of them, it will be found, may be imputable to peculiar circumstances connected with the war; but the greater part of them may be considered as the spontaneous shoots of an illconstituted government. It appears, also, that the executive department had not been innocent of frequent breaches of the constitution. There are three observations, however, which ought to be made on this head: FIRST, a great proportion of the instances were either immediately produced by the necessities of the war, or recommended by Congress or the commanderinchief; SECONDLY, in most of the other instances, they conformed either to the declared or the known sentiments of the legislative department; THIRDLY, the executive department of Pennsylvania is distinguished from that of the other States by the number of members composing it. In this respect, it has as much affinity to a legislative assembly as to an executive council. And being at once exempt from the restraint of an individual responsibility for the acts of the body, and deriving confidence from mutual example and joint influence, unauthorized measures would, of course, be more freely hazarded, than where the executive department is administered by a single hand, or by a few hands. The conclusion which I am warranted in drawing from these observations is, that a mere demarcation on parchment of the constitutional limits of the several departments, is not a sufficient guard against those encroachments which lead to a tyrannical concentration of all the powers of government in the same hands. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. XLIX. Method of Guarding Against the Encroachments of Any One Department of Government by Appealing to the People Through a Convention From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 5, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The author of the Notes on the State of Virginia, quoted in the last paper, has subjoined to that valuable work the draught of a constitution, which had been prepared in order to be laid before a convention, expected to be called in 1783, by the legislature, for the establishment of a constitution for that commonwealth. The plan, like every thing from the same pen, marks a turn of thinking, original, comprehensive, and accurate; and is the more worthy of attention as it equally displays a fervent attachment to republican government and an enlightened view of the dangerous propensities against which it ought to be guarded. One of the precautions which he proposes, and on which he appears ultimately to rely as a palladium to the weaker departments of power against the invasions of the stronger, is perhaps altogether his own, and as it immediately relates to the subject of our present inquiry, ought not to be overlooked. His proposition is, that whenever any two of the three branches of government shall concur in opinion, each by the voices of two thirds of their whole number, that a convention is necessary for altering the constitution, or CORRECTING BREACHES OF IT, a convention shall be called for the purpose. As the people are the only legitimate fountain of power, and it is from them that the constitutional charter, under which the several branches of government hold their power, is derived, it seems strictly consonant to the republican theory, to recur to the same original authority, not only whenever it may be necessary to enlarge, diminish, or newmodel the powers of the government, but also whenever any one of the departments may commit encroachments on the chartered authorities of the others. The several departments being perfectly coordinate by the terms of their common commission, none of them, it is evident, can pretend to an exclusive or superior right of settling the boundaries between their respective powers; and how are the encroachments of the stronger to be prevented, or the wrongs of the weaker to be redressed, without an appeal to the people themselves, who, as the grantors of the commissions, can alone declare its true meaning, and enforce its observance? There is certainly great force in this reasoning, and it must be allowed to prove that a constitutional road to the decision of the people ought to be marked out and kept open, for certain great and extraordinary occasions. But there appear to be insuperable objections against the proposed recurrence to the people, as a provision in all cases for keeping the several departments of power within their constitutional limits. In the first place, the provision does not reach the case of a combination of two of the departments against the third. If the legislative authority, which possesses so many means of operating on the motives of the other departments, should be able to gain to its interest either of the others, or even one third of its members, the remaining department could derive no advantage from its remedial provision. I do not dwell, however, on this objection, because it may be thought to be rather against the modification of the principle, than against the principle itself. In the next place, it may be considered as an objection inherent in the principle, that as every appeal to the people would carry an implication of some defect in the government, frequent appeals would, in a great measure, deprive the government of that veneration which time bestows on every thing, and without which perhaps the wisest and freest governments would not possess the requisite stability. If it be true that all governments rest on opinion, it is no less true that the strength of opinion in each individual, and its practical influence on his conduct, depend much on the number which he supposes to have entertained the same opinion. The reason of man, like man himself, is timid and cautious when left alone, and acquires firmness and confidence in proportion to the number with which it is associated. When the examples which fortify opinion are ANCIENT as well as NUMEROUS, they are known to have a double effect. In a nation of philosophers, this consideration ought to be disregarded. A reverence for the laws would be sufficiently inculcated by the voice of an enlightened reason. But a nation of philosophers is as little to be expected as the philosophical race of kings wished for by Plato. And in every other nation, the most rational government will not find it a superfluous advantage to have the prejudices of the community on its side. The danger of disturbing the public tranquillity by interesting too strongly the public passions, is a still more serious objection against a frequent reference of constitutional questions to the decision of the whole society. Notwithstanding the success which has attended the revisions of our established forms of government, and which does so much honor to the virtue and intelligence of the people of America, it must be confessed that the experiments are of too ticklish a nature to be unnecessarily multiplied. We are to recollect that all the existing constitutions were formed in the midst of a danger which repressed the passions most unfriendly to order and concord; of an enthusiastic confidence of the people in their patriotic leaders, which stifled the ordinary diversity of opinions on great national questions; of a universal ardor for new and opposite forms, produced by a universal resentment and indignation against the ancient government; and whilst no spirit of party connected with the changes to be made, or the abuses to be reformed, could mingle its leaven in the operation. The future situations in which we must expect to be usually placed, do not present any equivalent security against the danger which is apprehended. But the greatest objection of all is, that the decisions which would probably result from such appeals would not answer the purpose of maintaining the constitutional equilibrium of the government. We have seen that the tendency of republican governments is to an aggrandizement of the legislative at the expense of the other departments. The appeals to the people, therefore, would usually be made by the executive and judiciary departments. But whether made by one side or the other, would each side enjoy equal advantages on the trial? Let us view their different situations. The members of the executive and judiciary departments are few in number, and can be personally known to a small part only of the people. The latter, by the mode of their appointment, as well as by the nature and permanency of it, are too far removed from the people to share much in their prepossessions. The former are generally the objects of jealousy, and their administration is always liable to be discolored and rendered unpopular. The members of the legislative department, on the other hand, are numberous. They are distributed and dwell among the people at large. Their connections of blood, of friendship, and of acquaintance embrace a great proportion of the most influential part of the society. The nature of their public trust implies a personal influence among the people, and that they are more immediately the confidential guardians of the rights and liberties of the people. With these advantages, it can hardly be supposed that the adverse party would have an equal chance for a favorable issue. But the legislative party would not only be able to plead their cause most successfully with the people. They would probably be constituted themselves the judges. The same influence which had gained them an election into the legislature, would gain them a seat in the convention. If this should not be the case with all, it would probably be the case with many, and pretty certainly with those leading characters, on whom every thing depends in such bodies. The convention, in short, would be composed chiefly of men who had been, who actually were, or who expected to be, members of the department whose conduct was arraigned. They would consequently be parties to the very question to be decided by them. It might, however, sometimes happen, that appeals would be made under circumstances less adverse to the executive and judiciary departments. The usurpations of the legislature might be so flagrant and so sudden, as to admit of no specious coloring. A strong party among themselves might take side with the other branches. The executive power might be in the hands of a peculiar favorite of the people. In such a posture of things, the public decision might be less swayed by prepossessions in favor of the legislative party. But still it could never be expected to turn on the true merits of the question. It would inevitably be connected with the spirit of preexisting parties, or of parties springing out of the question itself. It would be connected with persons of distinguished character and extensive influence in the community. It would be pronounced by the very men who had been agents in, or opponents of, the measures to which the decision would relate. The PASSIONS, therefore, not the REASON, of the public would sit in judgment. But it is the reason, alone, of the public, that ought to control and regulate the government. The passions ought to be controlled and regulated by the government. We found in the last paper, that mere declarations in the written constitution are not sufficient to restrain the several departments within their legal rights. It appears in this, that occasional appeals to the people would be neither a proper nor an effectual provision for that purpose. How far the provisions of a different nature contained in the plan above quoted might be adequate, I do not examine. Some of them are unquestionably founded on sound political principles, and all of them are framed with singular ingenuity and precision. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. L. Periodical Appeals to the People Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 5, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: It may be contended, perhaps, that instead of OCCASIONAL appeals to the people, which are liable to the objections urged against them, PERIODICAL appeals are the proper and adequate means of PREVENTING AND CORRECTING INFRACTIONS OF THE CONSTITUTION. It will be attended to, that in the examination of these expedients, I confine myself to their aptitude for ENFORCING the Constitution, by keeping the several departments of power within their due bounds, without particularly considering them as provisions for ALTERING the Constitution itself. In the first view, appeals to the people at fixed periods appear to be nearly as ineligible as appeals on particular occasions as they emerge. If the periods be separated by short intervals, the measures to be reviewed and rectified will have been of recent date, and will be connected with all the circumstances which tend to vitiate and pervert the result of occasional revisions. If the periods be distant from each other, the same remark will be applicable to all recent measures; and in proportion as the remoteness of the others may favor a dispassionate review of them, this advantage is inseparable from inconveniences which seem to counterbalance it. In the first place, a distant prospect of public censure would be a very feeble restraint on power from those excesses to which it might be urged by the force of present motives. Is it to be imagined that a legislative assembly, consisting of a hundred or two hundred members, eagerly bent on some favorite object, and breaking through the restraints of the Constitution in pursuit of it, would be arrested in their career, by considerations drawn from a censorial revision of their conduct at the future distance of ten, fifteen, or twenty years? In the next place, the abuses would often have completed their mischievous effects before the remedial provision would be applied. And in the last place, where this might not be the case, they would be of long standing, would have taken deep root, and would not easily be extirpated. The scheme of revising the constitution, in order to correct recent breaches of it, as well as for other purposes, has been actually tried in one of the States. One of the objects of the Council of Censors which met in Pennsylvania in 1783 and 1784, was, as we have seen, to inquire, whether the constitution had been violated, and whether the legislative and executive departments had encroached upon each other.  This important and novel experiment in politics merits, in several points of view, very particular attention. In some of them it may, perhaps, as a single experiment, made under circumstances somewhat peculiar, be thought to be not absolutely conclusive. But as applied to the case under consideration, it involves some facts, which I venture to remark, as a complete and satisfactory illustration of the reasoning which I have employed. First. It appears, from the names of the gentlemen who composed the council, that some, at least, of its most active members had also been active and leading characters in the parties which preexisted in the State. Secondly. It appears that the same active and leading members of the council had been active and influential members of the legislative and executive branches, within the period to be reviewed; and even patrons or opponents of the very measures to be thus brought to the test of the constitution. Two of the members had been vicepresidents of the State, and several other members of the executive council, within the seven preceding years. One of them had been speaker, and a number of others distinguished members, of the legislative assembly within the same period. Thirdly. Every page of their proceedings witnesses the effect of all these circumstances on the temper of their deliberations. Throughout the continuance of the council, it was split into two fixed and violent parties. The fact is acknowledged and lamented by themselves. Had this not been the case, the face of their proceedings exhibits a proof equally satisfactory. In all questions, however unimportant in themselves, or unconnected with each other, the same names stand invariably contrasted on the opposite columns. Every unbiased observer may infer, without danger of mistake, and at the same time without meaning to reflect on either party, or any individuals of either party, that, unfortunately, PASSION, not REASON, must have presided over their decisions. When men exercise their reason coolly and freely on a variety of distinct questions, they inevitably fall into different opinions on some of them. When they are governed by a common passion, their opinions, if they are so to be called, will be the same. Fourthly. It is at least problematical, whether the decisions of this body do not, in several instances, misconstrue the limits prescribed for the legislative and executive departments, instead of reducing and limiting them within their constitutional places. Fifthly. I have never understood that the decisions of the council on constitutional questions, whether rightly or erroneously formed, have had any effect in varying the practice founded on legislative constructions. It even appears, if I mistake not, that in one instance the contemporary legislature denied the constructions of the council, and actually prevailed in the contest. This censorial body, therefore, proves at the same time, by its researches, the existence of the disease, and by its example, the inefficacy of the remedy. This conclusion cannot be invalidated by alleging that the State in which the experiment was made was at that crisis, and had been for a long time before, violently heated and distracted by the rage of party. Is it to be presumed, that at any future septennial epoch the same State will be free from parties? Is it to be presumed that any other State, at the same or any other given period, will be exempt from them? Such an event ought to be neither presumed nor desired; because an extinction of parties necessarily implies either a universal alarm for the public safety, or an absolute extinction of liberty. Were the precaution taken of excluding from the assemblies elected by the people, to revise the preceding administration of the government, all persons who should have been concerned with the government within the given period, the difficulties would not be obviated. The important task would probably devolve on men, who, with inferior capacities, would in other respects be little better qualified. Although they might not have been personally concerned in the administration, and therefore not immediately agents in the measures to be examined, they would probably have been involved in the parties connected with these measures, and have been elected under their auspices. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LI. The Structure of the Government Must Furnish the Proper Checks and Balances Between the Different Departments From the New York Packet. Friday, February 8, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: To what expedient, then, shall we finally resort, for maintaining in practice the necessary partition of power among the several departments, as laid down in the Constitution? The only answer that can be given is, that as all these exterior provisions are found to be inadequate, the defect must be supplied, by so contriving the interior structure of the government as that its several constituent parts may, by their mutual relations, be the means of keeping each other in their proper places. Without presuming to undertake a full development of this important idea, I will hazard a few general observations, which may perhaps place it in a clearer light, and enable us to form a more correct judgment of the principles and structure of the government planned by the convention. In order to lay a due foundation for that separate and distinct exercise of the different powers of government, which to a certain extent is admitted on all hands to be essential to the preservation of liberty, it is evident that each department should have a will of its own; and consequently should be so constituted that the members of each should have as little agency as possible in the appointment of the members of the others. Were this principle rigorously adhered to, it would require that all the appointments for the supreme executive, legislative, and judiciary magistracies should be drawn from the same fountain of authority, the people, through channels having no communication whatever with one another. Perhaps such a plan of constructing the several departments would be less difficult in practice than it may in contemplation appear. Some difficulties, however, and some additional expense would attend the execution of it. Some deviations, therefore, from the principle must be admitted. In the constitution of the judiciary department in particular, it might be inexpedient to insist rigorously on the principle: first, because peculiar qualifications being essential in the members, the primary consideration ought to be to select that mode of choice which best secures these qualifications; secondly, because the permanent tenure by which the appointments are held in that department, must soon destroy all sense of dependence on the authority conferring them. It is equally evident, that the members of each department should be as little dependent as possible on those of the others, for the emoluments annexed to their offices. Were the executive magistrate, or the judges, not independent of the legislature in this particular, their independence in every other would be merely nominal. But the great security against a gradual concentration of the several powers in the same department, consists in giving to those who administer each department the necessary constitutional means and personal motives to resist encroachments of the others. The provision for defense must in this, as in all other cases, be made commensurate to the danger of attack. Ambition must be made to counteract ambition. The interest of the man must be connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be a reflection on human nature, that such devices should be necessary to control the abuses of government. But what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself. A dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary control on the government; but experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions. This policy of supplying, by opposite and rival interests, the defect of better motives, might be traced through the whole system of human affairs, private as well as public. We see it particularly displayed in all the subordinate distributions of power, where the constant aim is to divide and arrange the several offices in such a manner as that each may be a check on the other that the private interest of every individual may be a sentinel over the public rights. These inventions of prudence cannot be less requisite in the distribution of the supreme powers of the State. But it is not possible to give to each department an equal power of selfdefense. In republican government, the legislative authority necessarily predominates. The remedy for this inconveniency is to divide the legislature into different branches; and to render them, by different modes of election and different principles of action, as little connected with each other as the nature of their common functions and their common dependence on the society will admit. It may even be necessary to guard against dangerous encroachments by still further precautions. As the weight of the legislative authority requires that it should be thus divided, the weakness of the executive may require, on the other hand, that it should be fortified. An absolute negative on the legislature appears, at first view, to be the natural defense with which the executive magistrate should be armed. But perhaps it would be neither altogether safe nor alone sufficient. On ordinary occasions it might not be exerted with the requisite firmness, and on extraordinary occasions it might be perfidiously abused. May not this defect of an absolute negative be supplied by some qualified connection between this weaker department and the weaker branch of the stronger department, by which the latter may be led to support the constitutional rights of the former, without being too much detached from the rights of its own department? If the principles on which these observations are founded be just, as I persuade myself they are, and they be applied as a criterion to the several State constitutions, and to the federal Constitution it will be found that if the latter does not perfectly correspond with them, the former are infinitely less able to bear such a test. There are, moreover, two considerations particularly applicable to the federal system of America, which place that system in a very interesting point of view. First. In a single republic, all the power surrendered by the people is submitted to the administration of a single government; and the usurpations are guarded against by a division of the government into distinct and separate departments. In the compound republic of America, the power surrendered by the people is first divided between two distinct governments, and then the portion allotted to each subdivided among distinct and separate departments. Hence a double security arises to the rights of the people. The different governments will control each other, at the same time that each will be controlled by itself. Second. It is of great importance in a republic not only to guard the society against the oppression of its rulers, but to guard one part of the society against the injustice of the other part. Different interests necessarily exist in different classes of citizens. If a majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will be insecure. There are but two methods of providing against this evil: the one by creating a will in the community independent of the majority that is, of the society itself; the other, by comprehending in the society so many separate descriptions of citizens as will render an unjust combination of a majority of the whole very improbable, if not impracticable. The first method prevails in all governments possessing an hereditary or selfappointed authority. This, at best, is but a precarious security; because a power independent of the society may as well espouse the unjust views of the major, as the rightful interests of the minor party, and may possibly be turned against both parties. The second method will be exemplified in the federal republic of the United States. Whilst all authority in it will be derived from and dependent on the society, the society itself will be broken into so many parts, interests, and classes of citizens, that the rights of individuals, or of the minority, will be in little danger from interested combinations of the majority. In a free government the security for civil rights must be the same as that for religious rights. It consists in the one case in the multiplicity of interests, and in the other in the multiplicity of sects. The degree of security in both cases will depend on the number of interests and sects; and this may be presumed to depend on the extent of country and number of people comprehended under the same government. This view of the subject must particularly recommend a proper federal system to all the sincere and considerate friends of republican government, since it shows that in exact proportion as the territory of the Union may be formed into more circumscribed Confederacies, or States oppressive combinations of a majority will be facilitated: the best security, under the republican forms, for the rights of every class of citizens, will be diminished: and consequently the stability and independence of some member of the government, the only other security, must be proportionately increased. Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit. In a society under the forms of which the stronger faction can readily unite and oppress the weaker, anarchy may as truly be said to reign as in a state of nature, where the weaker individual is not secured against the violence of the stronger; and as, in the latter state, even the stronger individuals are prompted, by the uncertainty of their condition, to submit to a government which may protect the weak as well as themselves; so, in the former state, will the more powerful factions or parties be gradually induced, by a like motive, to wish for a government which will protect all parties, the weaker as well as the more powerful. It can be little doubted that if the State of Rhode Island was separated from the Confederacy and left to itself, the insecurity of rights under the popular form of government within such narrow limits would be displayed by such reiterated oppressions of factious majorities that some power altogether independent of the people would soon be called for by the voice of the very factions whose misrule had proved the necessity of it. In the extended republic of the United States, and among the great variety of interests, parties, and sects which it embraces, a coalition of a majority of the whole society could seldom take place on any other principles than those of justice and the general good; whilst there being thus less danger to a minor from the will of a major party, there must be less pretext, also, to provide for the security of the former, by introducing into the government a will not dependent on the latter, or, in other words, a will independent of the society itself. It is no less certain than it is important, notwithstanding the contrary opinions which have been entertained, that the larger the society, provided it lie within a practical sphere, the more duly capable it will be of selfgovernment. And happily for the REPUBLICAN CAUSE, the practicable sphere may be carried to a very great extent, by a judicious modification and mixture of the FEDERAL PRINCIPLE. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LII. The House of Representatives From the New York Packet. Friday, February 8, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: From the more general inquiries pursued in the four last papers, I pass on to a more particular examination of the several parts of the government. I shall begin with the House of Representatives. The first view to be taken of this part of the government relates to the qualifications of the electors and the elected. Those of the former are to be the same with those of the electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures. The definition of the right of suffrage is very justly regarded as a fundamental article of republican government. It was incumbent on the convention, therefore, to define and establish this right in the Constitution. To have left it open for the occasional regulation of the Congress, would have been improper for the reason just mentioned. To have submitted it to the legislative discretion of the States, would have been improper for the same reason; and for the additional reason that it would have rendered too dependent on the State governments that branch of the federal government which ought to be dependent on the people alone. To have reduced the different qualifications in the different States to one uniform rule, would probably have been as dissatisfactory to some of the States as it would have been difficult to the convention. The provision made by the convention appears, therefore, to be the best that lay within their option. It must be satisfactory to every State, because it is conformable to the standard already established, or which may be established, by the State itself. It will be safe to the United States, because, being fixed by the State constitutions, it is not alterable by the State governments, and it cannot be feared that the people of the States will alter this part of their constitutions in such a manner as to abridge the rights secured to them by the federal Constitution. The qualifications of the elected, being less carefully and properly defined by the State constitutions, and being at the same time more susceptible of uniformity, have been very properly considered and regulated by the convention. A representative of the United States must be of the age of twentyfive years; must have been seven years a citizen of the United States; must, at the time of his election, be an inhabitant of the State he is to represent; and, during the time of his service, must be in no office under the United States. Under these reasonable limitations, the door of this part of the federal government is open to merit of every description, whether native or adoptive, whether young or old, and without regard to poverty or wealth, or to any particular profession of religious faith. The term for which the representatives are to be elected falls under a second view which may be taken of this branch. In order to decide on the propriety of this article, two questions must be considered: first, whether biennial elections will, in this case, be safe; secondly, whether they be necessary or useful. First. As it is essential to liberty that the government in general should have a common interest with the people, so it is particularly essential that the branch of it under consideration should have an immediate dependence on, and an intimate sympathy with, the people. Frequent elections are unquestionably the only policy by which this dependence and sympathy can be effectually secured. But what particular degree of frequency may be absolutely necessary for the purpose, does not appear to be susceptible of any precise calculation, and must depend on a variety of circumstances with which it may be connected. Let us consult experience, the guide that ought always to be followed whenever it can be found. The scheme of representation, as a substitute for a meeting of the citizens in person, being at most but very imperfectly known to ancient polity, it is in more modern times only that we are to expect instructive examples. And even here, in order to avoid a research too vague and diffusive, it will be proper to confine ourselves to the few examples which are best known, and which bear the greatest analogy to our particular case. The first to which this character ought to be applied, is the House of Commons in Great Britain. The history of this branch of the English Constitution, anterior to the date of Magna Charta, is too obscure to yield instruction. The very existence of it has been made a question among political antiquaries. The earliest records of subsequent date prove that parliaments were to SIT only every year; not that they were to be ELECTED every year. And even these annual sessions were left so much at the discretion of the monarch, that, under various pretexts, very long and dangerous intermissions were often contrived by royal ambition. To remedy this grievance, it was provided by a statute in the reign of Charles II. , that the intermissions should not be protracted beyond a period of three years. On the accession of William III., when a revolution took place in the government, the subject was still more seriously resumed, and it was declared to be among the fundamental rights of the people that parliaments ought to be held FREQUENTLY. By another statute, which passed a few years later in the same reign, the term frequently, which had alluded to the triennial period settled in the time of Charles II., is reduced to a precise meaning, it being expressly enacted that a new parliament shall be called within three years after the termination of the former. The last change, from three to seven years, is well known to have been introduced pretty early in the present century, under on alarm for the Hanoverian succession. From these facts it appears that the greatest frequency of elections which has been deemed necessary in that kingdom, for binding the representatives to their constituents, does not exceed a triennial return of them. And if we may argue from the degree of liberty retained even under septennial elections, and all the other vicious ingredients in the parliamentary constitution, we cannot doubt that a reduction of the period from seven to three years, with the other necessary reforms, would so far extend the influence of the people over their representatives as to satisfy us that biennial elections, under the federal system, cannot possibly be dangerous to the requisite dependence of the House of Representatives on their constituents. Elections in Ireland, till of late, were regulated entirely by the discretion of the crown, and were seldom repeated, except on the accession of a new prince, or some other contingent event. The parliament which commenced with George II. was continued throughout his whole reign, a period of about thirtyfive years. The only dependence of the representatives on the people consisted in the right of the latter to supply occasional vacancies by the election of new members, and in the chance of some event which might produce a general new election. The ability also of the Irish parliament to maintain the rights of their constituents, so far as the disposition might exist, was extremely shackled by the control of the crown over the subjects of their deliberation. Of late these shackles, if I mistake not, have been broken; and octennial parliaments have besides been established. What effect may be produced by this partial reform, must be left to further experience. The example of Ireland, from this view of it, can throw but little light on the subject. As far as we can draw any conclusion from it, it must be that if the people of that country have been able under all these disadvantages to retain any liberty whatever, the advantage of biennial elections would secure to them every degree of liberty, which might depend on a due connection between their representatives and themselves. Let us bring our inquiries nearer home. The example of these States, when British colonies, claims particular attention, at the same time that it is so well known as to require little to be said on it. The principle of representation, in one branch of the legislature at least, was established in all of them. But the periods of election were different. They varied from one to seven years. Have we any reason to infer, from the spirit and conduct of the representatives of the people, prior to the Revolution, that biennial elections would have been dangerous to the public liberties? The spirit which everywhere displayed itself at the commencement of the struggle, and which vanquished the obstacles to independence, is the best of proofs that a sufficient portion of liberty had been everywhere enjoyed to inspire both a sense of its worth and a zeal for its proper enlargement This remark holds good, as well with regard to the then colonies whose elections were least frequent, as to those whose elections were most frequent Virginia was the colony which stood first in resisting the parliamentary usurpations of Great Britain; it was the first also in espousing, by public act, the resolution of independence. In Virginia, nevertheless, if I have not been misinformed, elections under the former government were septennial. This particular example is brought into view, not as a proof of any peculiar merit, for the priority in those instances was probably accidental; and still less of any advantage in SEPTENNIAL elections, for when compared with a greater frequency they are inadmissible; but merely as a proof, and I conceive it to be a very substantial proof, that the liberties of the people can be in no danger from BIENNIAL elections. The conclusion resulting from these examples will be not a little strengthened by recollecting three circumstances. The first is, that the federal legislature will possess a part only of that supreme legislative authority which is vested completely in the British Parliament; and which, with a few exceptions, was exercised by the colonial assemblies and the Irish legislature. It is a received and wellfounded maxim, that where no other circumstances affect the case, the greater the power is, the shorter ought to be its duration; and, conversely, the smaller the power, the more safely may its duration be protracted. In the second place, it has, on another occasion, been shown that the federal legislature will not only be restrained by its dependence on its people, as other legislative bodies are, but that it will be, moreover, watched and controlled by the several collateral legislatures, which other legislative bodies are not. And in the third place, no comparison can be made between the means that will be possessed by the more permanent branches of the federal government for seducing, if they should be disposed to seduce, the House of Representatives from their duty to the people, and the means of influence over the popular branch possessed by the other branches of the government above cited. With less power, therefore, to abuse, the federal representatives can be less tempted on one side, and will be doubly watched on the other. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LIII. The Same Subject Continued (The House of Representatives) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 12, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: I shall here, perhaps, be reminded of a current observation, that where annual elections end, tyranny begins.  If it be true, as has often been remarked, that sayings which become proverbial are generally founded in reason, it is not less true, that when once established, they are often applied to cases to which the reason of them does not extend. I need not look for a proof beyond the case before us. What is the reason on which this proverbial observation is founded? No man will subject himself to the ridicule of pretending that any natural connection subsists between the sun or the seasons, and the period within which human virtue can bear the temptations of power. Happily for mankind, liberty is not, in this respect, confined to any single point of time; but lies within extremes, which afford sufficient latitude for all the variations which may be required by the various situations and circumstances of civil society. The election of magistrates might be, if it were found expedient, as in some instances it actually has been, daily, weekly, or monthly, as well as annual; and if circumstances may require a deviation from the rule on one side, why not also on the other side? Turning our attention to the periods established among ourselves, for the election of the most numerous branches of the State legislatures, we find them by no means coinciding any more in this instance, than in the elections of other civil magistrates. In Connecticut and Rhode Island, the periods are halfyearly. In the other States, South Carolina excepted, they are annual. In South Carolina they are biennial as is proposed in the federal government. Here is a difference, as four to one, between the longest and shortest periods; and yet it would be not easy to show, that Connecticut or Rhode Island is better governed, or enjoys a greater share of rational liberty, than South Carolina; or that either the one or the other of these States is distinguished in these respects, and by these causes, from the States whose elections are different from both. In searching for the grounds of this doctrine, I can discover but one, and that is wholly inapplicable to our case. The important distinction so well understood in America, between a Constitution established by the people and unalterable by the government, and a law established by the government and alterable by the government, seems to have been little understood and less observed in any other country. Wherever the supreme power of legislation has resided, has been supposed to reside also a full power to change the form of the government. Even in Great Britain, where the principles of political and civil liberty have been most discussed, and where we hear most of the rights of the Constitution, it is maintained that the authority of the Parliament is transcendent and uncontrollable, as well with regard to the Constitution, as the ordinary objects of legislative provision. They have accordingly, in several instances, actually changed, by legislative acts, some of the most fundamental articles of the government. They have in particular, on several occasions, changed the period of election; and, on the last occasion, not only introduced septennial in place of triennial elections, but by the same act, continued themselves in place four years beyond the term for which they were elected by the people. An attention to these dangerous practices has produced a very natural alarm in the votaries of free government, of which frequency of elections is the cornerstone; and has led them to seek for some security to liberty, against the danger to which it is exposed. Where no Constitution, paramount to the government, either existed or could be obtained, no constitutional security, similar to that established in the United States, was to be attempted. Some other security, therefore, was to be sought for; and what better security would the case admit, than that of selecting and appealing to some simple and familiar portion of time, as a standard for measuring the danger of innovations, for fixing the national sentiment, and for uniting the patriotic exertions? The most simple and familiar portion of time, applicable to the subject was that of a year; and hence the doctrine has been inculcated by a laudable zeal, to erect some barrier against the gradual innovations of an unlimited government, that the advance towards tyranny was to be calculated by the distance of departure from the fixed point of annual elections. But what necessity can there be of applying this expedient to a government limited, as the federal government will be, by the authority of a paramount Constitution? Or who will pretend that the liberties of the people of America will not be more secure under biennial elections, unalterably fixed by such a Constitution, than those of any other nation would be, where elections were annual, or even more frequent, but subject to alterations by the ordinary power of the government? The second question stated is, whether biennial elections be necessary or useful. The propriety of answering this question in the affirmative will appear from several very obvious considerations. No man can be a competent legislator who does not add to an upright intention and a sound judgment a certain degree of knowledge of the subjects on which he is to legislate. A part of this knowledge may be acquired by means of information which lie within the compass of men in private as well as public stations. Another part can only be attained, or at least thoroughly attained, by actual experience in the station which requires the use of it. The period of service, ought, therefore, in all such cases, to bear some proportion to the extent of practical knowledge requisite to the due performance of the service. The period of legislative service established in most of the States for the more numerous branch is, as we have seen, one year. The question then may be put into this simple form: does the period of two years bear no greater proportion to the knowledge requisite for federal legislation than one year does to the knowledge requisite for State legislation? The very statement of the question, in this form, suggests the answer that ought to be given to it. In a single State, the requisite knowledge relates to the existing laws which are uniform throughout the State, and with which all the citizens are more or less conversant; and to the general affairs of the State, which lie within a small compass, are not very diversified, and occupy much of the attention and conversation of every class of people. The great theatre of the United States presents a very different scene. The laws are so far from being uniform, that they vary in every State; whilst the public affairs of the Union are spread throughout a very extensive region, and are extremely diversified by t e local affairs connected with them, and can with difficulty be correctly learnt in any other place than in the central councils to which a knowledge of them will be brought by the representatives of every part of the empire. Yet some knowledge of the affairs, and even of the laws, of all the States, ought to be possessed by the members from each of the States. How can foreign trade be properly regulated by uniform laws, without some acquaintance with the commerce, the ports, the usages, and the regulatious of the different States? How can the trade between the different States be duly regulated, without some knowledge of their relative situations in these and other respects? How can taxes be judiciously imposed and effectually collected, if they be not accommodated to the different laws and local circumstances relating to these objects in the different States? How can uniform regulations for the militia be duly provided, without a similar knowledge of many internal circumstances by which the States are distinguished from each other? These are the principal objects of federal legislation, and suggest most forcibly the extensive information which the representatives ought to acquire. The other interior objects will require a proportional degree of information with regard to them. It is true that all these difficulties will, by degrees, be very much diminished. The most laborious task will be the proper inauguration of the government and the primeval formation of a federal code. Improvements on the first draughts will every year become both easier and fewer. Past transactions of the government will be a ready and accurate source of information to new members. The affairs of the Union will become more and more objects of curiosity and conversation among the citizens at large. And the increased intercourse among those of different States will contribute not a little to diffuse a mutual knowledge of their affairs, as this again will contribute to a general assimilation of their manners and laws. But with all these abatements, the business of federal legislation must continue so far to exceed, both in novelty and difficulty, the legislative business of a single State, as to justify the longer period of service assigned to those who are to transact it. A branch of knowledge which belongs to the acquirements of a federal representative, and which has not been mentioned is that of foreign affairs. In regulating our own commerce he ought to be not only acquainted with the treaties between the United States and other nations, but also with the commercial policy and laws of other nations. He ought not to be altogether ignorant of the law of nations; for that, as far as it is a proper object of municipal legislation, is submitted to the federal government. And although the House of Representatives is not immediately to participate in foreign negotiations and arrangements, yet from the necessary connection between the several branches of public affairs, those particular branches will frequently deserve attention in the ordinary course of legislation, and will sometimes demand particular legislative sanction and cooperation. Some portion of this knowledge may, no doubt, be acquired in a mans closet; but some of it also can only be derived from the public sources of information; and all of it will be acquired to best effect by a practical attention to the subject during the period of actual service in the legislature. There are other considerations, of less importance, perhaps, but which are not unworthy of notice. The distance which many of the representatives will be obliged to travel, and the arrangements rendered necessary by that circumstance, might be much more serious objections with fit men to this service, if limited to a single year, than if extended to two years. No argument can be drawn on this subject, from the case of the delegates to the existing Congress. They are elected annually, it is true; but their reelection is considered by the legislative assemblies almost as a matter of course. The election of the representatives by the people would not be governed by the same principle. A few of the members, as happens in all such assemblies, will possess superior talents; will, by frequent reelections, become members of long standing; will be thoroughly masters of the public business, and perhaps not unwilling to avail themselves of those advantages. The greater the proportion of new members, and the less the information of the bulk of the members the more apt will they be to fall into the snares that may be laid for them. This remark is no less applicable to the relation which will subsist between the House of Representatives and the Senate. It is an inconvenience mingled with the advantages of our frequent elections even in single States, where they are large, and hold but one legislative session in a year, that spurious elections cannot be investigated and annulled in time for the decision to have its due effect. If a return can be obtained, no matter by what unlawful means, the irregular member, who takes his seat of course, is sure of holding it a sufficient time to answer his purposes. Hence, a very pernicious encouragement is given to the use of unlawful means, for obtaining irregular returns. Were elections for the federal legislature to be annual, this practice might become a very serious abuse, particularly in the more distant States. Each house is, as it necessarily must be, the judge of the elections, qualifications, and returns of its members; and whatever improvements may be suggested by experience, for simplifying and accelerating the process in disputed cases, so great a portion of a year would unavoidably elapse, before an illegitimate member could be dispossessed of his seat, that the prospect of such an event would be little check to unfair and illicit means of obtaining a seat. All these considerations taken together warrant us in affirming, that biennial elections will be as useful to the affairs of the public as we have seen that they will be safe to the liberty of the people. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LIV. The Apportionment of Members Among the States From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 12, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The next view which I shall take of the House of Representatives relates to the appointment of its members to the several States which is to be determined by the same rule with that of direct taxes. It is not contended that the number of people in each State ought not to be the standard for regulating the proportion of those who are to represent the people of each State. The establishment of the same rule for the appointment of taxes, will probably be as little contested; though the rule itself in this case, is by no means founded on the same principle. In the former case, the rule is understood to refer to the personal rights of the people, with which it has a natural and universal connection. In the latter, it has reference to the proportion of wealth, of which it is in no case a precise measure, and in ordinary cases a very unfit one. But notwithstanding the imperfection of the rule as applied to the relative wealth and contributions of the States, it is evidently the least objectionable among the practicable rules, and had too recently obtained the general sanction of America, not to have found a ready preference with the convention. All this is admitted, it will perhaps be said; but does it follow, from an admission of numbers for the measure of representation, or of slaves combined with free citizens as a ratio of taxation, that slaves ought to be included in the numerical rule of representation? Slaves are considered as property, not as persons. They ought therefore to be comprehended in estimates of taxation which are founded on property, and to be excluded from representation which is regulated by a census of persons. This is the objection, as I understand it, stated in its full force. I shall be equally candid in stating the reasoning which may be offered on the opposite side. We subscribe to the doctrine, might one of our Southern brethren observe, that representation relates more immediately to persons, and taxation more immediately to property, and we join in the application of this distinction to the case of our slaves. But we must deny the fact, that slaves are considered merely as property, and in no respect whatever as persons. The true state of the case is, that they partake of both these qualities: being considered by our laws, in some respects, as persons, and in other respects as property. In being compelled to labor, not for himself, but for a master; in being vendible by one master to another master; and in being subject at all times to be restrained in his liberty and chastised in his body, by the capricious will of another, the slave may appear to be degraded from the human rank, and classed with those irrational animals which fall under the legal denomination of property. In being protected, on the other hand, in his life and in his limbs, against the violence of all others, even the master of his labor and his liberty; and in being punishable himself for all violence committed against others, the slave is no less evidently regarded by the law as a member of the society, not as a part of the irrational creation; as a moral person, not as a mere article of property. The federal Constitution, therefore, decides with great propriety on the case of our slaves, when it views them in the mixed character of persons and of property. This is in fact their true character. It is the character bestowed on them by the laws under which they live; and it will not be denied, that these are the proper criterion; because it is only under the pretext that the laws have transformed the negroes into subjects of property, that a place is disputed them in the computation of numbers; and it is admitted, that if the laws were to restore the rights which have been taken away, the negroes could no longer be refused an equal share of representation with the other inhabitants. This question may be placed in another light. It is agreed on all sides, that numbers are the best scale of wealth and taxation, as they are the only proper scale of representation. Would the convention have been impartial or consistent, if they had rejected the slaves from the list of inhabitants, when the shares of representation were to be calculated, and inserted them on the lists when the tariff of contributions was to be adjusted? Could it be reasonably expected, that the Southern States would concur in a system, which considered their slaves in some degree as men, when burdens were to be imposed, but refused to consider them in the same light, when advantages were to be conferred? Might not some surprise also be expressed, that those who reproach the Southern States with the barbarous policy of considering as property a part of their human brethren, should themselves contend, that the government to which all the States are to be parties, ought to consider this unfortunate race more completely in the unnatural light of property, than the very laws of which they complain? It may be replied, perhaps, that slaves are not included in the estimate of representatives in any of the States possessing them. They neither vote themselves nor increase the votes of their masters. Upon what principle, then, ought they to be taken into the federal estimate of representation? In rejecting them altogether, the Constitution would, in this respect, have followed the very laws which have been appealed to as the proper guide. This objection is repelled by a single observation. It is a fundamental principle of the proposed Constitution, that as the aggregate number of representatives allotted to the several States is to be determined by a federal rule, founded on the aggregate number of inhabitants, so the right of choosing this allotted number in each State is to be exercised by such part of the inhabitants as the State itself may designate. The qualifications on which the right of suffrage depend are not, perhaps, the same in any two States. In some of the States the difference is very material. In every State, a certain proportion of inhabitants are deprived of this right by the constitution of the State, who will be included in the census by which the federal Constitution apportions the representatives. In this point of view the Southern States might retort the complaint, by insisting that the principle laid down by the convention required that no regard should be had to the policy of particular States towards their own inhabitants; and consequently, that the slaves, as inhabitants, should have been admitted into the census according to their full number, in like manner with other inhabitants, who, by the policy of other States, are not admitted to all the rights of citizens. A rigorous adherence, however, to this principle, is waived by those who would be gainers by it. All that they ask is that equal moderation be shown on the other side. Let the case of the slaves be considered, as it is in truth, a peculiar one. Let the compromising expedient of the Constitution be mutually adopted, which regards them as inhabitants, but as debased by servitude below the equal level of free inhabitants, which regards the SLAVE as divested of two fifths of the MAN. After all, may not another ground be taken on which this article of the Constitution will admit of a still more ready defense? We have hitherto proceeded on the idea that representation related to persons only, and not at all to property. But is it a just idea? Government is instituted no less for protection of the property, than of the persons, of individuals. The one as well as the other, therefore, may be considered as represented by those who are charged with the government. Upon this principle it is, that in several of the States, and particularly in the State of New York, one branch of the government is intended more especially to be the guardian of property, and is accordingly elected by that part of the society which is most interested in this object of government. In the federal Constitution, this policy does not prevail. The rights of property are committed into the same hands with the personal rights. Some attention ought, therefore, to be paid to property in the choice of those hands. For another reason, the votes allowed in the federal legislature to the people of each State, ought to bear some proportion to the comparative wealth of the States. States have not, like individuals, an influence over each other, arising from superior advantages of fortune. If the law allows an opulent citizen but a single vote in the choice of his representative, the respect and consequence which he derives from his fortunate situation very frequently guide the votes of others to the objects of his choice; and through this imperceptible channel the rights of property are conveyed into the public representation. A State possesses no such influence over other States. It is not probable that the richest State in the Confederacy will ever influence the choice of a single representative in any other State. Nor will the representatives of the larger and richer States possess any other advantage in the federal legislature, over the representatives of other States, than what may result from their superior number alone. As far, therefore, as their superior wealth and weight may justly entitle them to any advantage, it ought to be secured to them by a superior share of representation. The new Constitution is, in this respect, materially different from the existing Confederation, as well as from that of the United Netherlands, and other similar confederacies. In each of the latter, the efficacy of the federal resolutions depends on the subsequent and voluntary resolutions of the states composing the union. Hence the states, though possessing an equal vote in the public councils, have an unequal influence, corresponding with the unequal importance of these subsequent and voluntary resolutions. Under the proposed Constitution, the federal acts will take effect without the necessary intervention of the individual States. They will depend merely on the majority of votes in the federal legislature, and consequently each vote, whether proceeding from a larger or smaller State, or a State more or less wealthy or powerful, will have an equal weight and efficacy: in the same manner as the votes individually given in a State legislature, by the representatives of unequal counties or other districts, have each a precise equality of value and effect; or if there be any difference in the case, it proceeds from the difference in the personal character of the individual representative, rather than from any regard to the extent of the district from which he comes. Such is the reasoning which an advocate for the Southern interests might employ on this subject; and although it may appear to be a little strained in some points, yet, on the whole, I must confess that it fully reconciles me to the scale of representation which the convention have established. In one respect, the establishment of a common measure for representation and taxation will have a very salutary effect. As the accuracy of the census to be obtained by the Congress will necessarily depend, in a considerable degree on the disposition, if not on the cooperation, of the States, it is of great importance that the States should feel as little bias as possible, to swell or to reduce the amount of their numbers. Were their share of representation alone to be governed by this rule, they would have an interest in exaggerating their inhabitants. Were the rule to decide their share of taxation alone, a contrary temptation would prevail. By extending the rule to both objects, the States will have opposite interests, which will control and balance each other, and produce the requisite impartiality. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LV. The Total Number of the House of Representatives From the New York Packet. Friday, February 15, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The number of which the House of Representatives is to consist, forms another and a very interesting point of view, under which this branch of the federal legislature may be contemplated. Scarce any article, indeed, in the whole Constitution seems to be rendered more worthy of attention, by the weight of character and the apparent force of argument with which it has been assailed. The charges exhibited against it are, first, that so small a number of representatives will be an unsafe depositary of the public interests; secondly, that they will not possess a proper knowledge of the local circumstances of their numerous constituents; thirdly, that they will be taken from that class of citizens which will sympathize least with the feelings of the mass of the people, and be most likely to aim at a permanent elevation of the few on the depression of the many; fourthly, that defective as the number will be in the first instance, it will be more and more disproportionate, by the increase of the people, and the obstacles which will prevent a correspondent increase of the representatives. In general it may be remarked on this subject, that no political problem is less susceptible of a precise solution than that which relates to the number most convenient for a representative legislature; nor is there any point on which the policy of the several States is more at variance, whether we compare their legislative assemblies directly with each other, or consider the proportions which they respectively bear to the number of their constituents. Passing over the difference between the smallest and largest States, as Delaware, whose most numerous branch consists of twentyone representatives, and Massachusetts, where it amounts to between three and four hundred, a very considerable difference is observable among States nearly equal in population. The number of representatives in Pennsylvania is not more than one fifth of that in the State last mentioned. New York, whose population is to that of South Carolina as six to five, has little more than one third of the number of representatives. As great a disparity prevails between the States of Georgia and Delaware or Rhode Island. In Pennsylvania, the representatives do not bear a greater proportion to their constituents than of one for every four or five thousand. In Rhode Island, they bear a proportion of at least one for every thousand. And according to the constitution of Georgia, the proportion may be carried to one to every ten electors; and must unavoidably far exceed the proportion in any of the other States. Another general remark to be made is, that the ratio between the representatives and the people ought not to be the same where the latter are very numerous as where they are very few. Were the representatives in Virginia to be regulated by the standard in Rhode Island, they would, at this time, amount to between four and five hundred; and twenty or thirty years hence, to a thousand. On the other hand, the ratio of Pennsylvania, if applied to the State of Delaware, would reduce the representative assembly of the latter to seven or eight members. Nothing can be more fallacious than to found our political calculations on arithmetical principles. Sixty or seventy men may be more properly trusted with a given degree of power than six or seven. But it does not follow that six or seven hundred would be proportionably a better depositary. And if we carry on the supposition to six or seven thousand, the whole reasoning ought to be reversed. The truth is, that in all cases a certain number at least seems to be necessary to secure the benefits of free consultation and discussion, and to guard against too easy a combination for improper purposes; as, on the other hand, the number ought at most to be kept within a certain limit, in order to avoid the confusion and intemperance of a multitude. In all very numerous assemblies, of whatever character composed, passion never fails to wrest the sceptre from reason. Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob. It is necessary also to recollect here the observations which were applied to the case of biennial elections. For the same reason that the limited powers of the Congress, and the control of the State legislatures, justify less frequent elections than the public safely might otherwise require, the members of the Congress need be less numerous than if they possessed the whole power of legislation, and were under no other than the ordinary restraints of other legislative bodies. With these general ideas in our mind, let us weigh the objections which have been stated against the number of members proposed for the House of Representatives. It is said, in the first place, that so small a number cannot be safely trusted with so much power. The number of which this branch of the legislature is to consist, at the outset of the government, will be sixtyfive. Within three years a census is to be taken, when the number may be augmented to one for every thirty thousand inhabitants; and within every successive period of ten years the census is to be renewed, and augmentations may continue to be made under the above limitation. It will not be thought an extravagant conjecture that the first census will, at the rate of one for every thirty thousand, raise the number of representatives to at least one hundred. Estimating the negroes in the proportion of three fifths, it can scarcely be doubted that the population of the United States will by that time, if it does not already, amount to three millions. At the expiration of twentyfive years, according to the computed rate of increase, the number of representatives will amount to two hundred, and of fifty years, to four hundred. This is a number which, I presume, will put an end to all fears arising from the smallness of the body. I take for granted here what I shall, in answering the fourth objection, hereafter show, that the number of representatives will be augmented from time to time in the manner provided by the Constitution. On a contrary supposition, I should admit the objection to have very great weight indeed. The true question to be decided then is, whether the smallness of the number, as a temporary regulation, be dangerous to the public liberty? Whether sixtyfive members for a few years, and a hundred or two hundred for a few more, be a safe depositary for a limited and wellguarded power of legislating for the United States? I must own that I could not give a negative answer to this question, without first obliterating every impression which I have received with regard to the present genius of the people of America, the spirit which actuates the State legislatures, and the principles which are incorporated with the political character of every class of citizens I am unable to conceive that the people of America, in their present temper, or under any circumstances which can speedily happen, will choose, and every second year repeat the choice of, sixtyfive or a hundred men who would be disposed to form and pursue a scheme of tyranny or treachery. I am unable to conceive that the State legislatures, which must feel so many motives to watch, and which possess so many means of counteracting, the federal legislature, would fail either to detect or to defeat a conspiracy of the latter against the liberties of their common constituents. I am equally unable to conceive that there are at this time, or can be in any short time, in the United States, any sixtyfive or a hundred men capable of recommending themselves to the choice of the people at large, who would either desire or dare, within the short space of two years, to betray the solemn trust committed to them. What change of circumstances, time, and a fuller population of our country may produce, requires a prophetic spirit to declare, which makes no part of my pretensions. But judging from the circumstances now before us, and from the probable state of them within a moderate period of time, I must pronounce that the liberties of America cannot be unsafe in the number of hands proposed by the federal Constitution. From what quarter can the danger proceed? Are we afraid of foreign gold? If foreign gold could so easily corrupt our federal rulers and enable them to ensnare and betray their constituents, how has it happened that we are at this time a free and independent nation? The Congress which conducted us through the Revolution was a less numerous body than their successors will be; they were not chosen by, nor responsible to, their fellowcitizens at large; though appointed from year to year, and recallable at pleasure, they were generally continued for three years, and prior to the ratification of the federal articles, for a still longer term. They held their consultations always under the veil of secrecy; they had the sole transaction of our affairs with foreign nations; through the whole course of the war they had the fate of their country more in their hands than it is to be hoped will ever be the case with our future representatives; and from the greatness of the prize at stake, and the eagerness of the party which lost it, it may well be supposed that the use of other means than force would not have been scrupled. Yet we know by happy experience that the public trust was not betrayed; nor has the purity of our public councils in this particular ever suffered, even from the whispers of calumny. Is the danger apprehended from the other branches of the federal government? But where are the means to be found by the President, or the Senate, or both? Their emoluments of office, it is to be presumed, will not, and without a previous corruption of the House of Representatives cannot, more than suffice for very different purposes; their private fortunes, as they must allbe American citizens, cannot possibly be sources of danger. The only means, then, which they can possess, will be in the dispensation of appointments. Is it here that suspicion rests her charge? Sometimes we are told that this fund of corruption is to be exhausted by the President in subduing the virtue of the Senate. Now, the fidelity of the other House is to be the victim. The improbability of such a mercenary and perfidious combination of the several members of government, standing on as different foundations as republican principles will well admit, and at the same time accountable to the society over which they are placed, ought alone to quiet this apprehension. But, fortunately, the Constitution has provided a still further safeguard. The members of the Congress are rendered ineligible to any civil offices that may be created, or of which the emoluments may be increased, during the term of their election. No offices therefore can be dealt out to the existing members but such as may become vacant by ordinary casualties: and to suppose that these would be sufficient to purchase the guardians of the people, selected by the people themselves, is to renounce every rule by which events ought to be calculated, and to substitute an indiscriminate and unbounded jealousy, with which all reasoning must be vain. The sincere friends of liberty, who give themselves up to the extravagancies of this passion, are not aware of the injury they do their own cause. As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the existence of these qualities in a higher degree than any other form. Were the pictures which have been drawn by the political jealousy of some among us faithful likenesses of the human character, the inference would be, that there is not sufficient virtue among men for selfgovernment; and that nothing less than the chains of despotism can restrain them from destroying and devouring one another. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LVI. The Same Subject Continued (The Total Number of the House of Representatives) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 19, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The second charge against the House of Representatives is, that it will be too small to possess a due knowledge of the interests of its constituents. As this objection evidently proceeds from a comparison of the proposed number of representatives with the great extent of the United States, the number of their inhabitants, and the diversity of their interests, without taking into view at the same time the circumstances which will distinguish the Congress from other legislative bodies, the best answer that can be given to it will be a brief explanation of these peculiarities. It is a sound and important principle that the representative ought to be acquainted with the interests and circumstances of his constituents. But this principle can extend no further than to those circumstances and interests to which the authority and care of the representative relate. An ignorance of a variety of minute and particular objects, which do not lie within the compass of legislation, is consistent with every attribute necessary to a due performance of the legislative trust. In determining the extent of information required in the exercise of a particular authority, recourse then must be had to the objects within the purview of that authority. What are to be the objects of federal legislation? Those which are of most importance, and which seem most to require local knowledge, are commerce, taxation, and the militia. A proper regulation of commerce requires much information, as has been elsewhere remarked; but as far as this information relates to the laws and local situation of each individual State, a very few representatives would be very sufficient vehicles of it to the federal councils. Taxation will consist, in a great measure, of duties which will be involved in the regulation of commerce. So far the preceding remark is applicable to this object. As far as it may consist of internal collections, a more diffusive knowledge of the circumstances of the State may be necessary. But will not this also be possessed in sufficient degree by a very few intelligent men, diffusively elected within the State? Divide the largest State into ten or twelve districts, and it will be found that there will be no peculiar local interests in either, which will not be within the knowledge of the representative of the district. Besides this source of information, the laws of the State, framed by representatives from every part of it, will be almost of themselves a sufficient guide. In every State there have been made, and must continue to be made, regulations on this subject which will, in many cases, leave little more to be done by the federal legislature, than to review the different laws, and reduce them in one general act. A skillful individual in his closet with all the local codes before him, might compile a law on some subjects of taxation for the whole union, without any aid from oral information, and it may be expected that whenever internal taxes may be necessary, and particularly in cases requiring uniformity throughout the States, the more simple objects will be preferred. To be fully sensible of the facility which will be given to this branch of federal legislation by the assistance of the State codes, we need only suppose for a moment that this or any other State were divided into a number of parts, each having and exercising within itself a power of local legislation. Is it not evident that a degree of local information and preparatory labor would be found in the several volumes of their proceedings, which would very much shorten the labors of the general legislature, and render a much smaller number of members sufficient for it? The federal councils will derive great advantage from another circumstance. The representatives of each State will not only bring with them a considerable knowledge of its laws, and a local knowledge of their respective districts, but will probably in all cases have been members, and may even at the very time be members, of the State legislature, where all the local information and interests of the State are assembled, and from whence they may easily be conveyed by a very few hands into the legislature of the United States. The observations made on the subject of taxation apply with greater force to the case of the militia. For however different the rules of discipline may be in different States, they are the same throughout each particular State; and depend on circumstances which can differ but little in different parts of the same State. The attentive reader will discern that the reasoning here used, to prove the sufficiency of a moderate number of representatives, does not in any respect contradict what was urged on another occasion with regard to the extensive information which the representatives ought to possess, and the time that might be necessary for acquiring it. This information, so far as it may relate to local objects, is rendered necessary and difficult, not by a difference of laws and local circumstances within a single State, but of those among different States. Taking each State by itself, its laws are the same, and its interests but little diversified. A few men, therefore, will possess all the knowledge requisite for a proper representation of them. Were the interests and affairs of each individual State perfectly simple and uniform, a knowledge of them in one part would involve a knowledge of them in every other, and the whole State might be competently represented by a single member taken from any part of it. On a comparison of the different States together, we find a great dissimilarity in their laws, and in many other circumstances connected with the objects of federal legislation, with all of which the federal representatives ought to have some acquaintance. Whilst a few representatives, therefore, from each State, may bring with them a due knowledge of their own State, every representative will have much information to acquire concerning all the other States. The changes of time, as was formerly remarked, on the comparative situation of the different States, will have an assimilating effect. The effect of time on the internal affairs of the States, taken singly, will be just the contrary. At present some of the States are little more than a society of husbandmen. Few of them have made much progress in those branches of industry which give a variety and complexity to the affairs of a nation. These, however, will in all of them be the fruits of a more advanced population, and will require, on the part of each State, a fuller representation. The foresight of the convention has accordingly taken care that the progress of population may be accompanied with a proper increase of the representative branch of the government. The experience of Great Britain, which presents to mankind so many political lessons, both of the monitory and exemplary kind, and which has been frequently consulted in the course of these inquiries, corroborates the result of the reflections which we have just made. The number of inhabitants in the two kingdoms of England and Scotland cannot be stated at less than eight millions. The representatives of these eight millions in the House of Commons amount to five hundred and fiftyeight. Of this number, one ninth are elected by three hundred and sixtyfour persons, and one half, by five thousand seven hundred and twentythree persons.1 It cannot be supposed that the half thus elected, and who do not even reside among the people at large, can add any thing either to the security of the people against the government, or to the knowledge of their circumstances and interests in the legislative councils. On the contrary, it is notorious, that they are more frequently the representatives and instruments of the executive magistrate, than the guardians and advocates of the popular rights. They might therefore, with great propriety, be considered as something more than a mere deduction from the real representatives of the nation. We will, however, consider them in this light alone, and will not extend the deduction to a considerable number of others, who do not reside among their constitutents, are very faintly connected with them, and have very little particular knowledge of their affairs. With all these concessions, two hundred and seventynine persons only will be the depository of the safety, interest, and happiness of eight millions that is to say, there will be one representative only to maintain the rights and explain the situation OF TWENTYEIGHT THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED AND SEVENTY constitutents, in an assembly exposed to the whole force of executive influence, and extending its authority to every object of legislation within a nation whose affairs are in the highest degree diversified and complicated. Yet it is very certain, not only that a valuable portion of freedom has been preserved under all these circumstances, but that the defects in the British code are chargeable, in a very small proportion, on the ignorance of the legislature concerning the circumstances of the people. Allowing to this case the weight which is due to it, and comparing it with that of the House of Representatives as above explained it seems to give the fullest assurance, that a representative for every THIRTY THOUSAND INHABITANTS will render the latter both a safe and competent guardian of the interests which will be confided to it. PUBLIUS. 1 Burghs Political Disquisitions. THE FEDERALIST. No. LVII. The Alleged Tendency of the New Plan to Elevate the Few at the Expense of the Many Considered in Connection with Representation From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 19, 1788. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The third charge against the House of Representatives is, that it will be taken from that class of citizens which will have least sympathy with the mass of the people, and be most likely to aim at an ambitious sacrifice of the many to the aggrandizement of the few. Of all the objections which have been framed against the federal Constitution, this is perhaps the most extraordinary. Whilst the objection itself is levelled against a pretended oligarchy, the principle of it strikes at the very root of republican government. The aim of every political constitution is, or ought to be, first to obtain for rulers men who possess most wisdom to discern, and most virtue to pursue, the common good of the society; and in the next place, to take the most effectual precautions for keeping them virtuous whilst they continue to hold their public trust. The elective mode of obtaining rulers is the characteristic policy of republican government. The means relied on in this form of government for preventing their degeneracy are numerous and various. The most effectual one, is such a limitation of the term of appointments as will maintain a proper responsibility to the people. Let me now ask what circumstance there is in the constitution of the House of Representatives that violates the principles of republican government, or favors the elevation of the few on the ruins of the many? Let me ask whether every circumstance is not, on the contrary, strictly conformable to these principles, and scrupulously impartial to the rights and pretensions of every class and description of citizens? Who are to be the electors of the federal representatives? Not the rich, more than the poor; not the learned, more than the ignorant; not the haughty heirs of distinguished names, more than the humble sons of obscurity and unpropitious fortune. The electors are to be the great body of the people of the United States. They are to be the same who exercise the right in every State of electing the corresponding branch of the legislature of the State. Who are to be the objects of popular choice? Every citizen whose merit may recommend him to the esteem and confidence of his country. No qualification of wealth, of birth, of religious faith, or of civil profession is permitted to fetter the judgement or disappoint the inclination of the people. If we consider the situation of the men on whom the free suffrages of their fellowcitizens may confer the representative trust, we shall find it involving every security which can be devised or desired for their fidelity to their constituents. In the first place, as they will have been distinguished by the preference of their fellowcitizens, we are to presume that in general they will be somewhat distinguished also by those qualities which entitle them to it, and which promise a sincere and scrupulous regard to the nature of their engagements. In the second place, they will enter into the public service under circumstances which cannot fail to produce a temporary affection at least to their constituents. There is in every breast a sensibility to marks of honor, of favor, of esteem, and of confidence, which, apart from all considerations of interest, is some pledge for grateful and benevolent returns. Ingratitude is a common topic of declamation against human nature; and it must be confessed that instances of it are but too frequent and flagrant, both in public and in private life. But the universal and extreme indignation which it inspires is itself a proof of the energy and prevalence of the contrary sentiment. In the third place, those ties which bind the representative to his constituents are strengthened by motives of a more selfish nature. His pride and vanity attach him to a form of government which favors his pretensions and gives him a share in its honors and distinctions. Whatever hopes or projects might be entertained by a few aspiring characters, it must generally happen that a great proportion of the men deriving their advancement from their influence with the people, would have more to hope from a preservation of the favor, than from innovations in the government subversive of the authority of the people. All these securities, however, would be found very insufficient without the restraint of frequent elections. Hence, in the fourth place, the House of Representatives is so constituted as to support in the members an habitual recollection of their dependence on the people. Before the sentiments impressed on their minds by the mode of their elevation can be effaced by the exercise of power, they will be compelled to anticipate the moment when their power is to cease, when their exercise of it is to be reviewed, and when they must descend to the level from which they were raised; there forever to remain unless a faithful discharge of their trust shall have established their title to a renewal of it. I will add, as a fifth circumstance in the situation of the House of Representatives, restraining them from oppressive measures, that they can make no law which will not have its full operation on themselves and their friends, as well as on the great mass of the society. This has always been deemed one of the strongest bonds by which human policy can connect the rulers and the people together. It creates between them that communion of interests and sympathy of sentiments, of which few governments have furnished examples; but without which every government degenerates into tyranny. If it be asked, what is to restrain the House of Representatives from making legal discriminations in favor of themselves and a particular class of the society? I answer: the genius of the whole system; the nature of just and constitutional laws; and above all, the vigilant and manly spirit which actuates the people of America, a spirit which nourishes freedom, and in return is nourished by it. If this spirit shall ever be so far debased as to tolerate a law not obligatory on the legislature, as well as on the people, the people will be prepared to tolerate any thing but liberty. Such will be the relation between the House of Representatives and their constituents. Duty, gratitude, interest, ambition itself, are the chords by which they will be bound to fidelity and sympathy with the great mass of the people. It is possible that these may all be insufficient to control the caprice and wickedness of man. But are they not all that government will admit, and that human prudence can devise? Are they not the genuine and the characteristic means by which republican government provides for the liberty and happiness of the people? Are they not the identical means on which every State government in the Union relies for the attainment of these important ends? What then are we to understand by the objection which this paper has combated? What are we to say to the men who profess the most flaming zeal for republican government, yet boldly impeach the fundamental principle of it; who pretend to be champions for the right and the capacity of the people to choose their own rulers, yet maintain that they will prefer those only who will immediately and infallibly betray the trust committed to them? Were the objection to be read by one who had not seen the mode prescribed by the Constitution for the choice of representatives, he could suppose nothing less than that some unreasonable qualification of property was annexed to the right of suffrage; or that the right of eligibility was limited to persons of particular families or fortunes; or at least that the mode prescribed by the State constitutions was in some respect or other, very grossly departed from. We have seen how far such a supposition would err, as to the two first points. Nor would it, in fact, be less erroneous as to the last. The only difference discoverable between the two cases is, that each representative of the United States will be elected by five or six thousand citizens; whilst in the individual States, the election of a representative is left to about as many hundreds. Will it be pretended that this difference is sufficient to justify an attachment to the State governments, and an abhorrence to the federal government? If this be the point on which the objection turns, it deserves to be examined. Is it supported by REASON? This cannot be said, without maintaining that five or six thousand citizens are less capable of choosing a fit representative, or more liable to be corrupted by an unfit one, than five or six hundred. Reason, on the contrary, assures us, that as in so great a number a fit representative would be most likely to be found, so the choice would be less likely to be diverted from him by the intrigues of the ambitious or the ambitious or the bribes of the rich. Is the CONSEQUENCE from this doctrine admissible? If we say that five or six hundred citizens are as many as can jointly exercise their right of suffrage, must we not deprive the people of the immediate choice of their public servants, in every instance where the administration of the government does not require as many of them as will amount to one for that number of citizens? Is the doctrine warranted by FACTS? It was shown in the last paper, that the real representation in the British House of Commons very little exceeds the proportion of one for every thirty thousand inhabitants. Besides a variety of powerful causes not existing here, and which favor in that country the pretensions of rank and wealth, no person is eligible as a representative of a county, unless he possess real estate of the clear value of six hundred pounds sterling per year; nor of a city or borough, unless he possess a like estate of half that annual value. To this qualification on the part of the county representatives is added another on the part of the county electors, which restrains the right of suffrage to persons having a freehold estate of the annual value of more than twenty pounds sterling, according to the present rate of money. Notwithstanding these unfavorable circumstances, and notwithstanding some very unequal laws in the British code, it cannot be said that the representatives of the nation have elevated the few on the ruins of the many. But we need not resort to foreign experience on this subject. Our own is explicit and decisive. The districts in New Hampshire in which the senators are chosen immediately by the people, are nearly as large as will be necessary for her representatives in the Congress. Those of Massachusetts are larger than will be necessary for that purpose; and those of New York still more so. In the last State the members of Assembly for the cities and counties of New York and Albany are elected by very nearly as many voters as will be entitled to a representative in the Congress, calculating on the number of sixtyfive representatives only. It makes no difference that in these senatorial districts and counties a number of representatives are voted for by each elector at the same time. If the same electors at the same time are capable of choosing four or five representatives, they cannot be incapable of choosing one. Pennsylvania is an additional example. Some of her counties, which elect her State representatives, are almost as large as her districts will be by which her federal representatives will be elected. The city of Philadelphia is supposed to contain between fifty and sixty thousand souls. It will therefore form nearly two districts for the choice of federal representatives. It forms, however, but one county, in which every elector votes for each of its representatives in the State legislature. And what may appear to be still more directly to our purpose, the whole city actually elects a SINGLE MEMBER for the executive council. This is the case in all the other counties of the State. Are not these facts the most satisfactory proofs of the fallacy which has been employed against the branch of the federal government under consideration? Has it appeared on trial that the senators of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and New York, or the executive council of Pennsylvania, or the members of the Assembly in the two last States, have betrayed any peculiar disposition to sacrifice the many to the few, or are in any respect less worthy of their places than the representatives and magistrates appointed in other States by very small divisions of the people? But there are cases of a stronger complexion than any which I have yet quoted. One branch of the legislature of Connecticut is so constituted that each member of it is elected by the whole State. So is the governor of that State, of Massachusetts, and of this State, and the president of New Hampshire. I leave every man to decide whether the result of any one of these experiments can be said to countenance a suspicion, that a diffusive mode of choosing representatives of the people tends to elevate traitors and to undermine the public liberty. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LVIII. Objection That The Number of Members Will Not Be Augmented as the Progress of Population Demands Considered MADISON To the People of the State of New York: The remaining charge against the House of Representatives, which I am to examine, is grounded on a supposition that the number of members will not be augmented from time to time, as the progress of population may demand. It has been admitted, that this objection, if well supported, would have great weight. The following observations will show that, like most other objections against the Constitution, it can only proceed from a partial view of the subject, or from a jealousy which discolors and disfigures every object which is beheld. 1. Those who urge the objection seem not to have recollected that the federal Constitution will not suffer by a comparison with the State constitutions, in the security provided for a gradual augmentation of the number of representatives. The number which is to prevail in the first instance is declared to be temporary. Its duration is limited to the short term of three years. Within every successive term of ten years a census of inhabitants is to be repeated. The unequivocal objects of these regulations are, first, to readjust, from time to time, the apportionment of representatives to the number of inhabitants, under the single exception that each State shall have one representative at least; secondly, to augment the number of representatives at the same periods, under the sole limitation that the whole number shall not exceed one for every thirty thousand inhabitants. If we review the constitutions of the several States, we shall find that some of them contain no determinate regulations on this subject, that others correspond pretty much on this point with the federal Constitution, and that the most effectual security in any of them is resolvable into a mere directory provision. 2. As far as experience has taken place on this subject, a gradual increase of representatives under the State constitutions has at least kept pace with that of the constituents, and it appears that the former have been as ready to concur in such measures as the latter have been to call for them. 3. There is a peculiarity in the federal Constitution which insures a watchful attention in a majority both of the people and of their representatives to a constitutional augmentation of the latter. The peculiarity lies in this, that one branch of the legislature is a representation of citizens, the other of the States: in the former, consequently, the larger States will have most weight; in the latter, the advantage will be in favor of the smaller States. From this circumstance it may with certainty be inferred that the larger States will be strenuous advocates for increasing the number and weight of that part of the legislature in which their influence predominates. And it so happens that four only of the largest will have a majority of the whole votes in the House of Representatives. Should the representatives or people, therefore, of the smaller States oppose at any time a reasonable addition of members, a coalition of a very few States will be sufficient to overrule the opposition; a coalition which, notwithstanding the rivalship and local prejudices which might prevent it on ordinary occasions, would not fail to take place, when not merely prompted by common interest, but justified by equity and the principles of the Constitution. It may be alleged, perhaps, that the Senate would be prompted by like motives to an adverse coalition; and as their concurrence would be indispensable, the just and constitutional views of the other branch might be defeated. This is the difficulty which has probably created the most serious apprehensions in the jealous friends of a numerous representation. Fortunately it is among the difficulties which, existing only in appearance, vanish on a close and accurate inspection. The following reflections will, if I mistake not, be admitted to be conclusive and satisfactory on this point. Notwithstanding the equal authority which will subsist between the two houses on all legislative subjects, except the originating of money bills, it cannot be doubted that the House, composed of the greater number of members, when supported by the more powerful States, and speaking the known and determined sense of a majority of the people, will have no small advantage in a question depending on the comparative firmness of the two houses. This advantage must be increased by the consciousness, felt by the same side of being supported in its demands by right, by reason, and by the Constitution; and the consciousness, on the opposite side, of contending against the force of all these solemn considerations. It is farther to be considered, that in the gradation between the smallest and largest States, there are several, which, though most likely in general to arrange themselves among the former are too little removed in extent and population from the latter, to second an opposition to their just and legitimate pretensions. Hence it is by no means certain that a majority of votes, even in the Senate, would be unfriendly to proper augmentations in the number of representatives. It will not be looking too far to add, that the senators from all the new States may be gained over to the just views of the House of Representatives, by an expedient too obvious to be overlooked. As these States will, for a great length of time, advance in population with peculiar rapidity, they will be interested in frequent reapportionments of the representatives to the number of inhabitants. The large States, therefore, who will prevail in the House of Representatives, will have nothing to do but to make reapportionments and augmentations mutually conditions of each other; and the senators from all the most growing States will be bound to contend for the latter, by the interest which their States will feel in the former. These considerations seem to afford ample security on this subject, and ought alone to satisfy all the doubts and fears which have been indulged with regard to it. Admitting, however, that they should all be insufficient to subdue the unjust policy of the smaller States, or their predominant influence in the councils of the Senate, a constitutional and infallible resource still remains with the larger States, by which they will be able at all times to accomplish their just purposes. The House of Representatives cannot only refuse, but they alone can propose, the supplies requisite for the support of government. They, in a word, hold the purse that powerful instrument by which we behold, in the history of the British Constitution, an infant and humble representation of the people gradually enlarging the sphere of its activity and importance, and finally reducing, as far as it seems to have wished, all the overgrown prerogatives of the other branches of the government. This power over the purse may, in fact, be regarded as the most complete and effectual weapon with which any constitution can arm the immediate representatives of the people, for obtaining a redress of every grievance, and for carrying into effect every just and salutary measure. But will not the House of Representatives be as much interested as the Senate in maintaining the government in its proper functions, and will they not therefore be unwilling to stake its existence or its reputation on the pliancy of the Senate? Or, if such a trial of firmness between the two branches were hazarded, would not the one be as likely first to yield as the other? These questions will create no difficulty with those who reflect that in all cases the smaller the number, and the more permanent and conspicuous the station, of men in power, the stronger must be the interest which they will individually feel in whatever concerns the government. Those who represent the dignity of their country in the eyes of other nations, will be particularly sensible to every prospect of public danger, or of dishonorable stagnation in public affairs. To those causes we are to ascribe the continual triumph of the British House of Commons over the other branches of the government, whenever the engine of a money bill has been employed. An absolute inflexibility on the side of the latter, although it could not have failed to involve every department of the state in the general confusion, has neither been apprehended nor experienced. The utmost degree of firmness that can be displayed by the federal Senate or President, will not be more than equal to a resistance in which they will be supported by constitutional and patriotic principles. In this review of the Constitution of the House of Representatives, I have passed over the circumstances of economy, which, in the present state of affairs, might have had some effect in lessening the temporary number of representatives, and a disregard of which would probably have been as rich a theme of declamation against the Constitution as has been shown by the smallness of the number proposed. I omit also any remarks on the difficulty which might be found, under present circumstances, in engaging in the federal service a large number of such characters as the people will probably elect. One observation, however, I must be permitted to add on this subject as claiming, in my judgment, a very serious attention. It is, that in all legislative assemblies the greater the number composing them may be, the fewer will be the men who will in fact direct their proceedings. In the first place, the more numerous an assembly may be, of whatever characters composed, the greater is known to be the ascendency of passion over reason. In the next place, the larger the number, the greater will be the proportion of members of limited information and of weak capacities. Now, it is precisely on characters of this description that the eloquence and address of the few are known to act with all their force. In the ancient republics, where the whole body of the people assembled in person, a single orator, or an artful statesman, was generally seen to rule with as complete a sway as if a sceptre had been placed in his single hand. On the same principle, the more multitudinous a representative assembly may be rendered, the more it will partake of the infirmities incident to collective meetings of the people. Ignorance will be the dupe of cunning, and passion the slave of sophistry and declamation. The people can never err more than in supposing that by multiplying their representatives beyond a certain limit, they strengthen the barrier against the government of a few. Experience will forever admonish them that, on the contrary, AFTER SECURING A SUFFICIENT NUMBER FOR THE PURPOSES OF SAFETY, OF LOCAL INFORMATION, AND OF DIFFUSIVE SYMPATHY WITH THE WHOLE SOCIETY, they will counteract their own views by every addition to their representatives. The countenance of the government may become more democratic, but the soul that animates it will be more oligarchic. The machine will be enlarged, but the fewer, and often the more secret, will be the springs by which its motions are directed. As connected with the objection against the number of representatives, may properly be here noticed, that which has been suggested against the number made competent for legislative business. It has been said that more than a majority ought to have been required for a quorum; and in particular cases, if not in all, more than a majority of a quorum for a decision. That some advantages might have resulted from such a precaution, cannot be denied. It might have been an additional shield to some particular interests, and another obstacle generally to hasty and partial measures. But these considerations are outweighed by the inconveniences in the opposite scale. In all cases where justice or the general good might require new laws to be passed, or active measures to be pursued, the fundamental principle of free government would be reversed. It would be no longer the majority that would rule: the power would be transferred to the minority. Were the defensive privilege limited to particular cases, an interested minority might take advantage of it to screen themselves from equitable sacrifices to the general weal, or, in particular emergencies, to extort unreasonable indulgences. Lastly, it would facilitate and foster the baneful practice of secessions; a practice which has shown itself even in States where a majority only is required; a practice subversive of all the principles of order and regular government; a practice which leads more directly to public convulsions, and the ruin of popular governments, than any other which has yet been displayed among us. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LIX. Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members From the New York Packet. Friday, February 22, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The natural order of the subject leads us to consider, in this place, that provision of the Constitution which authorizes the national legislature to regulate, in the last resort, the election of its own members. It is in these words: The TIMES, PLACES, and MANNER of holding elections for senators and representatives shall be prescribed in each State by the legislature thereof; but the Congress may, at any time, by law, make or alter SUCH REGULATIONS, except as to the PLACES of choosing senators.1 This provision has not only been declaimed against by those who condemn the Constitution in the gross, but it has been censured by those who have objected with less latitude and greater moderation; and, in one instance it has been thought exceptionable by a gentleman who has declared himself the advocate of every other part of the system. I am greatly mistaken, notwithstanding, if there be any article in the whole plan more completely defensible than this. Its propriety rests upon the evidence of this plain proposition, that EVERY GOVERNMENT OUGHT TO CONTAIN IN ITSELF THE MEANS OF ITS OWN PRESERVATION. Every just reasoner will, at first sight, approve an adherence to this rule, in the work of the convention; and will disapprove every deviation from it which may not appear to have been dictated by the necessity of incorporating into the work some particular ingredient, with which a rigid conformity to the rule was incompatible. Even in this case, though he may acquiesce in the necessity, yet he will not cease to regard and to regret a departure from so fundamental a principle, as a portion of imperfection in the system which may prove the seed of future weakness, and perhaps anarchy. It will not be alleged, that an election law could have been framed and inserted in the Constitution, which would have been always applicable to every probable change in the situation of the country; and it will therefore not be denied, that a discretionary power over elections ought to exist somewhere. It will, I presume, be as readily conceded, that there were only three ways in which this power could have been reasonably modified and disposed: that it must either have been lodged wholly in the national legislature, or wholly in the State legislatures, or primarily in the latter and ultimately in the former. The last mode has, with reason, been preferred by the convention. They have submitted the regulation of elections for the federal government, in the first instance, to the local administrations; which, in ordinary cases, and when no improper views prevail, may be both more convenient and more satisfactory; but they have reserved to the national authority a right to interpose, whenever extraordinary circumstances might render that interposition necessary to its safety. Nothing can be more evident, than that an exclusive power of regulating elections for the national government, in the hands of the State legislatures, would leave the existence of the Union entirely at their mercy. They could at any moment annihilate it, by neglecting to provide for the choice of persons to administer its affairs. It is to little purpose to say, that a neglect or omission of this kind would not be likely to take place. The constitutional possibility of the thing, without an equivalent for the risk, is an unanswerable objection. Nor has any satisfactory reason been yet assigned for incurring that risk. The extravagant surmises of a distempered jealousy can never be dignified with that character. If we are in a humor to presume abuses of power, it is as fair to presume them on the part of the State governments as on the part of the general government. And as it is more consonant to the rules of a just theory, to trust the Union with the care of its own existence, than to transfer that care to any other hands, if abuses of power are to be hazarded on the one side or on the other, it is more rational to hazard them where the power would naturally be placed, than where it would unnaturally be placed. Suppose an article had been introduced into the Constitution, empowering the United States to regulate the elections for the particular States, would any man have hesitated to condemn it, both as an unwarrantable transposition of power, and as a premeditated engine for the destruction of the State governments? The violation of principle, in this case, would have required no comment; and, to an unbiased observer, it will not be less apparent in the project of subjecting the existence of the national government, in a similar respect, to the pleasure of the State governments. An impartial view of the matter cannot fail to result in a conviction, that each, as far as possible, ought to depend on itself for its own preservation. As an objection to this position, it may be remarked that the constitution of the national Senate would involve, in its full extent, the danger which it is suggested might flow from an exclusive power in the State legislatures to regulate the federal elections. It may be alleged, that by declining the appointment of Senators, they might at any time give a fatal blow to the Union; and from this it may be inferred, that as its existence would be thus rendered dependent upon them in so essential a point, there can be no objection to intrusting them with it in the particular case under consideration. The interest of each State, it may be added, to maintain its representation in the national councils, would be a complete security against an abuse of the trust. This argument, though specious, will not, upon examination, be found solid. It is certainly true that the State legislatures, by forbearing the appointment of senators, may destroy the national government. But it will not follow that, because they have a power to do this in one instance, they ought to have it in every other. There are cases in which the pernicious tendency of such a power may be far more decisive, without any motive equally cogent with that which must have regulated the conduct of the convention in respect to the formation of the Senate, to recommend their admission into the system. So far as that construction may expose the Union to the possibility of injury from the State legislatures, it is an evil; but it is an evil which could not have been avoided without excluding the States, in their political capacities, wholly from a place in the organization of the national government. If this had been done, it would doubtless have been interpreted into an entire dereliction of the federal principle; and would certainly have deprived the State governments of that absolute safeguard which they will enjoy under this provision. But however wise it may have been to have submitted in this instance to an inconvenience, for the attainment of a necessary advantage or a greater good, no inference can be drawn from thence to favor an accumulation of the evil, where no necessity urges, nor any greater good invites. It may be easily discerned also that the national government would run a much greater risk from a power in the State legislatures over the elections of its House of Representatives, than from their power of appointing the members of its Senate. The senators are to be chosen for the period of six years; there is to be a rotation, by which the seats of a third part of them are to be vacated and replenished every two years; and no State is to be entitled to more than two senators; a quorum of the body is to consist of sixteen members. The joint result of these circumstances would be, that a temporary combination of a few States to intermit the appointment of senators, could neither annul the existence nor impair the activity of the body; and it is not from a general and permanent combination of the States that we can have any thing to fear. The first might proceed from sinister designs in the leading members of a few of the State legislatures; the last would suppose a fixed and rooted disaffection in the great body of the people, which will either never exist at all, or will, in all probability, proceed from an experience of the inaptitude of the general government to the advancement of their happiness in which event no good citizen could desire its continuance. But with regard to the federal House of Representatives, there is intended to be a general election of members once in two years. If the State legislatures were to be invested with an exclusive power of regulating these elections, every period of making them would be a delicate crisis in the national situation, which might issue in a dissolution of the Union, if the leaders of a few of the most important States should have entered into a previous conspiracy to prevent an election. I shall not deny, that there is a degree of weight in the observation, that the interests of each State, to be represented in the federal councils, will be a security against the abuse of a power over its elections in the hands of the State legislatures. But the security will not be considered as complete, by those who attend to the force of an obvious distinction between the interest of the people in the public felicity, and the interest of their local rulers in the power and consequence of their offices. The people of America may be warmly attached to the government of the Union, at times when the particular rulers of particular States, stimulated by the natural rivalship of power, and by the hopes of personal aggrandizement, and supported by a strong faction in each of those States, may be in a very opposite temper. This diversity of sentiment between a majority of the people, and the individuals who have the greatest credit in their councils, is exemplified in some of the States at the present moment, on the present question. The scheme of separate confederacies, which will always multiply the chances of ambition, will be a never failing bait to all such influential characters in the State administrations as are capable of preferring their own emolument and advancement to the public weal. With so effectual a weapon in their hands as the exclusive power of regulating elections for the national government, a combination of a few such men, in a few of the most considerable States, where the temptation will always be the strongest, might accomplish the destruction of the Union, by seizing the opportunity of some casual dissatisfaction among the people (and which perhaps they may themselves have excited), to discontinue the choice of members for the federal House of Representatives. It ought never to be forgotten, that a firm union of this country, under an efficient government, will probably be an increasing object of jealousy to more than one nation of Europe; and that enterprises to subvert it will sometimes originate in the intrigues of foreign powers, and will seldom fail to be patronized and abetted by some of them. Its preservation, therefore ought in no case that can be avoided, to be committed to the guardianship of any but those whose situation will uniformly beget an immediate interest in the faithful and vigilant performance of the trust. PUBLIUS. 1 1st clause, 4th section, of the 1st article. THE FEDERALIST. No. LX. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 26, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: We have seen, that an uncontrollable power over the elections to the federal government could not, without hazard, be committed to the State legislatures. Let us now see, what would be the danger on the other side; that is, from confiding the ultimate right of regulating its own elections to the Union itself. It is not pretended, that this right would ever be used for the exclusion of any State from its share in the representation. The interest of all would, in this respect at least, be the security of all. But it is alleged, that it might be employed in such a manner as to promote the election of some favorite class of men in exclusion of others, by confining the places of election to particular districts, and rendering it impracticable to the citizens at large to partake in the choice. Of all chimerical suppositions, this seems to be the most chimerical. On the one hand, no rational calculation of probabilities would lead us to imagine that the disposition which a conduct so violent and extraordinary would imply, could ever find its way into the national councils; and on the other, it may be concluded with certainty, that if so improper a spirit should ever gain admittance into them, it would display itself in a form altogether different and far more decisive. The improbability of the attempt may be satisfactorily inferred from this single reflection, that it could never be made without causing an immediate revolt of the great body of the people, headed and directed by the State governments. It is not difficult to conceive that this characteristic right of freedom may, in certain turbulent and factious seasons, be violated, in respect to a particular class of citizens, by a victorious and overbearing majority; but that so fundamental a privilege, in a country so situated and enlightened, should be invaded to the prejudice of the great mass of the people, by the deliberate policy of the government, without occasioning a popular revolution, is altogether inconceivable and incredible. In addition to this general reflection, there are considerations of a more precise nature, which forbid all apprehension on the subject. The dissimilarity in the ingredients which will compose the national government, and still more in the manner in which they will be brought into action in its various branches, must form a powerful obstacle to a concert of views in any partial scheme of elections. There is sufficient diversity in the state of property, in the genius, manners, and habits of the people of the different parts of the Union, to occasion a material diversity of disposition in their representatives towards the different ranks and conditions in society. And though an intimate intercourse under the same government will promote a gradual assimilation in some of these respects, yet there are causes, as well physical as moral, which may, in a greater or less degree, permanently nourish different propensities and inclinations in this respect. But the circumstance which will be likely to have the greatest influence in the matter, will be the dissimilar modes of constituting the several component parts of the government. The House of Representatives being to be elected immediately by the people, the Senate by the State legislatures, the President by electors chosen for that purpose by the people, there would be little probability of a common interest to cement these different branches in a predilection for any particular class of electors. As to the Senate, it is impossible that any regulation of time and manner, which is all that is proposed to be submitted to the national government in respect to that body, can affect the spirit which will direct the choice of its members. The collective sense of the State legislatures can never be influenced by extraneous circumstances of that sort; a consideration which alone ought to satisfy us that the discrimination apprehended would never be attempted. For what inducement could the Senate have to concur in a preference in which itself would not be included? Or to what purpose would it be established, in reference to one branch of the legislature, if it could not be extended to the other? The composition of the one would in this case counteract that of the other. And we can never suppose that it would embrace the appointments to the Senate, unless we can at the same time suppose the voluntary cooperation of the State legislatures. If we make the latter supposition, it then becomes immaterial where the power in question is placed whether in their hands or in those of the Union. But what is to be the object of this capricious partiality in the national councils? Is it to be exercised in a discrimination between the different departments of industry, or between the different kinds of property, or between the different degrees of property? Will it lean in favor of the landed interest, or the moneyed interest, or the mercantile interest, or the manufacturing interest? Or, to speak in the fashionable language of the adversaries to the Constitution, will it court the elevation of the wealthy and the wellborn, to the exclusion and debasement of all the rest of the society? If this partiality is to be exerted in favor of those who are concerned in any particular description of industry or property, I presume it will readily be admitted, that the competition for it will lie between landed men and merchants. And I scruple not to affirm, that it is infinitely less likely that either of them should gain an ascendant in the national councils, than that the one or the other of them should predominate in all the local councils. The inference will be, that a conduct tending to give an undue preference to either is much less to be dreaded from the former than from the latter. The several States are in various degrees addicted to agriculture and commerce. In most, if not all of them, agriculture is predominant. In a few of them, however, commerce nearly divides its empire, and in most of them has a considerable share of influence. In proportion as either prevails, it will be conveyed into the national representation; and for the very reason, that this will be an emanation from a greater variety of interests, and in much more various proportions, than are to be found in any single State, it will be much less apt to espouse either of them with a decided partiality, than the representation of any single State. In a country consisting chiefly of the cultivators of land, where the rules of an equal representation obtain, the landed interest must, upon the whole, preponderate in the government. As long as this interest prevails in most of the State legislatures, so long it must maintain a correspondent superiority in the national Senate, which will generally be a faithful copy of the majorities of those assemblies. It cannot therefore be presumed, that a sacrifice of the landed to the mercantile class will ever be a favorite object of this branch of the federal legislature. In applying thus particularly to the Senate a general observation suggested by the situation of the country, I am governed by the consideration, that the credulous votaries of State power cannot, upon their own principles, suspect, that the State legislatures would be warped from their duty by any external influence. But in reality the same situation must have the same effect, in the primative composition at least of the federal House of Representatives: an improper bias towards the mercantile class is as little to be expected from this quarter as from the other. In order, perhaps, to give countenance to the objection at any rate, it may be asked, is there not danger of an opposite bias in the national government, which may dispose it to endeavor to secure a monopoly of the federal administration to the landed class? As there is little likelihood that the supposition of such a bias will have any terrors for those who would be immediately injured by it, a labored answer to this question will be dispensed with. It will be sufficient to remark, first, that for the reasons elsewhere assigned, it is less likely that any decided partiality should prevail in the councils of the Union than in those of any of its members. Secondly, that there would be no temptation to violate the Constitution in favor of the landed class, because that class would, in the natural course of things, enjoy as great a preponderancy as itself could desire. And thirdly, that men accustomed to investigate the sources of public prosperity upon a large scale, must be too well convinced of the utility of commerce, to be inclined to inflict upon it so deep a wound as would result from the entire exclusion of those who would best understand its interest from a share in the management of them. The importance of commerce, in the view of revenue alone, must effectually guard it against the enmity of a body which would be continually importuned in its favor, by the urgent calls of public necessity. I the rather consult brevity in discussing the probability of a preference founded upon a discrimination between the different kinds of industry and property, because, as far as I understand the meaning of the objectors, they contemplate a discrimination of another kind. They appear to have in view, as the objects of the preference with which they endeavor to alarm us, those whom they designate by the description of the wealthy and the wellborn. These, it seems, are to be exalted to an odious preeminence over the rest of their fellowcitizens. At one time, however, their elevation is to be a necessary consequence of the smallness of the representative body; at another time it is to be effected by depriving the people at large of the opportunity of exercising their right of suffrage in the choice of that body. But upon what principle is the discrimination of the places of election to be made, in order to answer the purpose of the meditated preference? Are the wealthy and the wellborn, as they are called, confined to particular spots in the several States? Have they, by some miraculous instinct or foresight, set apart in each of them a common place of residence? Are they only to be met with in the towns or cities? Or are they, on the contrary, scattered over the face of the country as avarice or chance may have happened to cast their own lot or that of their predecessors? If the latter is the case, (as every intelligent man knows it to be1) is it not evident that the policy of confining the places of election to particular districts would be as subversive of its own aim as it would be exceptionable on every other account? The truth is, that there is no method of securing to the rich the preference apprehended, but by prescribing qualifications of property either for those who may elect or be elected. But this forms no part of the power to be conferred upon the national government. Its authority would be expressly restricted to the regulation of the TIMES, the PLACES, the MANNER of elections. The qualifications of the persons who may choose or be chosen, as has been remarked upon other occasions, are defined and fixed in the Constitution, and are unalterable by the legislature. Let it, however, be admitted, for argument sake, that the expedient suggested might be successful; and let it at the same time be equally taken for granted that all the scruples which a sense of duty or an apprehension of the danger of the experiment might inspire, were overcome in the breasts of the national rulers, still I imagine it will hardly be pretended that they could ever hope to carry such an enterprise into execution without the aid of a military force sufficient to subdue the resistance of the great body of the people. The improbability of the existence of a force equal to that object has been discussed and demonstrated in different parts of these papers; but that the futility of the objection under consideration may appear in the strongest light, it shall be conceded for a moment that such a force might exist, and the national government shall be supposed to be in the actual possession of it. What will be the conclusion? With a disposition to invade the essential rights of the community, and with the means of gratifying that disposition, is it presumable that the persons who were actuated by it would amuse themselves in the ridiculous task of fabricating election laws for securing a preference to a favorite class of men? Would they not be likely to prefer a conduct better adapted to their own immediate aggrandizement? Would they not rather boldly resolve to perpetuate themselves in office by one decisive act of usurpation, than to trust to precarious expedients which, in spite of all the precautions that might accompany them, might terminate in the dismission, disgrace, and ruin of their authors? Would they not fear that citizens, not less tenacious than conscious of their rights, would flock from the remote extremes of their respective States to the places of election, to overthrow their tyrants, and to substitute men who would be disposed to avenge the violated majesty of the people? PUBLIUS. 1 Particularly in the Southern States and in this State. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXI. The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 26, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The more candid opposers of the provision respecting elections, contained in the plan of the convention, when pressed in argument, will sometimes concede the propriety of that provision; with this qualification, however, that it ought to have been accompanied with a declaration, that all elections should be had in the counties where the electors resided. This, say they, was a necessary precaution against an abuse of the power. A declaration of this nature would certainly have been harmless; so far as it would have had the effect of quieting apprehensions, it might not have been undesirable. But it would, in fact, have afforded little or no additional security against the danger apprehended; and the want of it will never be considered, by an impartial and judicious examiner, as a serious, still less as an insuperable, objection to the plan. The different views taken of the subject in the two preceding papers must be sufficient to satisfy all dispassionate and discerning men, that if the public liberty should ever be the victim of the ambition of the national rulers, the power under examination, at least, will be guiltless of the sacrifice. If those who are inclined to consult their jealousy only, would exercise it in a careful inspection of the several State constitutions, they would find little less room for disquietude and alarm, from the latitude which most of them allow in respect to elections, than from the latitude which is proposed to be allowed to the national government in the same respect. A review of their situation, in this particular, would tend greatly to remove any ill impressions which may remain in regard to this matter. But as that view would lead into long and tedious details, I shall content myself with the single example of the State in which I write. The constitution of New York makes no other provision for LOCALITY of elections, than that the members of the Assembly shall be elected in the COUNTIES; those of the Senate, in the great districts into which the State is or may be divided: these at present are four in number, and comprehend each from two to six counties. It may readily be perceived that it would not be more difficult to the legislature of New York to defeat the suffrages of the citizens of New York, by confining elections to particular places, than for the legislature of the United States to defeat the suffrages of the citizens of the Union, by the like expedient. Suppose, for instance, the city of Albany was to be appointed the sole place of election for the county and district of which it is a part, would not the inhabitants of that city speedily become the only electors of the members both of the Senate and Assembly for that county and district? Can we imagine that the electors who reside in the remote subdivisions of the counties of Albany, Saratoga, Cambridge, etc., or in any part of the county of Montgomery, would take the trouble to come to the city of Albany, to give their votes for members of the Assembly or Senate, sooner than they would repair to the city of New York, to participate in the choice of the members of the federal House of Representatives? The alarming indifference discoverable in the exercise of so invaluable a privilege under the existing laws, which afford every facility to it, furnishes a ready answer to this question. And, abstracted from any experience on the subject, we can be at no loss to determine, that when the place of election is at an INCONVENIENT DISTANCE from the elector, the effect upon his conduct will be the same whether that distance be twenty miles or twenty thousand miles. Hence it must appear, that objections to the particular modification of the federal power of regulating elections will, in substance, apply with equal force to the modification of the like power in the constitution of this State; and for this reason it will be impossible to acquit the one, and to condemn the other. A similar comparison would lead to the same conclusion in respect to the constitutions of most of the other States. If it should be said that defects in the State constitutions furnish no apology for those which are to be found in the plan proposed, I answer, that as the former have never been thought chargeable with inattention to the security of liberty, where the imputations thrown on the latter can be shown to be applicable to them also, the presumption is that they are rather the cavilling refinements of a predetermined opposition, than the wellfounded inferences of a candid research after truth. To those who are disposed to consider, as innocent omissions in the State constitutions, what they regard as unpardonable blemishes in the plan of the convention, nothing can be said; or at most, they can only be asked to assign some substantial reason why the representatives of the people in a single State should be more impregnable to the lust of power, or other sinister motives, than the representatives of the people of the United States? If they cannot do this, they ought at least to prove to us that it is easier to subvert the liberties of three millions of people, with the advantage of local governments to head their opposition, than of two hundred thousand people who are destitute of that advantage. And in relation to the point immediately under consideration, they ought to convince us that it is less probable that a predominant faction in a single State should, in order to maintain its superiority, incline to a preference of a particular class of electors, than that a similar spirit should take possession of the representatives of thirteen States, spread over a vast region, and in several respects distinguishable from each other by a diversity of local circumstances, prejudices, and interests. Hitherto my observations have only aimed at a vindication of the provision in question, on the ground of theoretic propriety, on that of the danger of placing the power elsewhere, and on that of the safety of placing it in the manner proposed. But there remains to be mentioned a positive advantage which will result from this disposition, and which could not as well have been obtained from any other: I allude to the circumstance of uniformity in the time of elections for the federal House of Representatives. It is more than possible that this uniformity may be found by experience to be of great importance to the public welfare, both as a security against the perpetuation of the same spirit in the body, and as a cure for the diseases of faction. If each State may choose its own time of election, it is possible there may be at least as many different periods as there are months in the year. The times of election in the several States, as they are now established for local purposes, vary between extremes as wide as March and November. The consequence of this diversity would be that there could never happen a total dissolution or renovation of the body at one time. If an improper spirit of any kind should happen to prevail in it, that spirit would be apt to infuse itself into the new members, as they come forward in succession. The mass would be likely to remain nearly the same, assimilating constantly to itself its gradual accretions. There is a contagion in example which few men have sufficient force of mind to resist. I am inclined to think that treble the duration in office, with the condition of a total dissolution of the body at the same time, might be less formidable to liberty than one third of that duration subject to gradual and successive alterations. Uniformity in the time of elections seems not less requisite for executing the idea of a regular rotation in the Senate, and for conveniently assembling the legislature at a stated period in each year. It may be asked, Why, then, could not a time have been fixed in the Constitution? As the most zealous adversaries of the plan of the convention in this State are, in general, not less zealous admirers of the constitution of the State, the question may be retorted, and it may be asked, Why was not a time for the like purpose fixed in the constitution of this State? No better answer can be given than that it was a matter which might safely be entrusted to legislative discretion; and that if a time had been appointed, it might, upon experiment, have been found less convenient than some other time. The same answer may be given to the question put on the other side. And it may be added that the supposed danger of a gradual change being merely speculative, it would have been hardly advisable upon that speculation to establish, as a fundamental point, what would deprive several States of the convenience of having the elections for their own governments and for the national government at the same epochs. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXII. The Senate For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: Having examined the constitution of the House of Representatives, and answered such of the objections against it as seemed to merit notice, I enter next on the examination of the Senate. The heads into which this member of the government may be considered are: I. The qualification of senators; II. The appointment of them by the State legislatures; III. The equality of representation in the Senate; IV. The number of senators, and the term for which they are to be elected; V. The powers vested in the Senate. I. The qualifications proposed for senators, as distinguished from those of representatives, consist in a more advanced age and a longer period of citizenship. A senator must be thirty years of age at least; as a representative must be twentyfive. And the former must have been a citizen nine years; as seven years are required for the latter. The propriety of these distinctions is explained by the nature of the senatorial trust, which, requiring greater extent of information and stability of character, requires at the same time that the senator should have reached a period of life most likely to supply these advantages; and which, participating immediately in transactions with foreign nations, ought to be exercised by none who are not thoroughly weaned from the prepossessions and habits incident to foreign birth and education. The term of nine years appears to be a prudent mediocrity between a total exclusion of adopted citizens, whose merits and talents may claim a share in the public confidence, and an indiscriminate and hasty admission of them, which might create a channel for foreign influence on the national councils. II. It is equally unnecessary to dilate on the appointment of senators by the State legislatures. Among the various modes which might have been devised for constituting this branch of the government, that which has been proposed by the convention is probably the most congenial with the public opinion. It is recommended by the double advantage of favoring a select appointment, and of giving to the State governments such an agency in the formation of the federal government as must secure the authority of the former, and may form a convenient link between the two systems. III. The equality of representation in the Senate is another point, which, being evidently the result of compromise between the opposite pretensions of the large and the small States, does not call for much discussion. If indeed it be right, that among a people thoroughly incorporated into one nation, every district ought to have a PROPORTIONAL share in the government, and that among independent and sovereign States, bound together by a simple league, the parties, however unequal in size, ought to have an EQUAL share in the common councils, it does not appear to be without some reason that in a compound republic, partaking both of the national and federal character, the government ought to be founded on a mixture of the principles of proportional and equal representation. But it is superfluous to try, by the standard of theory, a part of the Constitution which is allowed on all hands to be the result, not of theory, but of a spirit of amity, and that mutual deference and concession which the peculiarity of our political situation rendered indispensable. A common government, with powers equal to its objects, is called for by the voice, and still more loudly by the political situation, of America. A government founded on principles more consonant to the wishes of the larger States, is not likely to be obtained from the smaller States. The only option, then, for the former, lies between the proposed government and a government still more objectionable. Under this alternative, the advice of prudence must be to embrace the lesser evil; and, instead of indulging a fruitless anticipation of the possible mischiefs which may ensue, to contemplate rather the advantageous consequences which may qualify the sacrifice. In this spirit it may be remarked, that the equal vote allowed to each State is at once a constitutional recognition of the portion of sovereignty remaining in the individual States, and an instrument for preserving that residuary sovereignty. So far the equality ought to be no less acceptable to the large than to the small States; since they are not less solicitous to guard, by every possible expedient, against an improper consolidation of the States into one simple republic. Another advantage accruing from this ingredient in the constitution of the Senate is, the additional impediment it must prove against improper acts of legislation. No law or resolution can now be passed without the concurrence, first, of a majority of the people, and then, of a majority of the States. It must be acknowledged that this complicated check on legislation may in some instances be injurious as well as beneficial; and that the peculiar defense which it involves in favor of the smaller States, would be more rational, if any interests common to them, and distinct from those of the other States, would otherwise be exposed to peculiar danger. But as the larger States will always be able, by their power over the supplies, to defeat unreasonable exertions of this prerogative of the lesser States, and as the faculty and excess of lawmaking seem to be the diseases to which our governments are most liable, it is not impossible that this part of the Constitution may be more convenient in practice than it appears to many in contemplation. IV. The number of senators, and the duration of their appointment, come next to be considered. In order to form an accurate judgment on both of these points, it will be proper to inquire into the purposes which are to be answered by a senate; and in order to ascertain these, it will be necessary to review the inconveniences which a republic must suffer from the want of such an institution. First. It is a misfortune incident to republican government, though in a less degree than to other governments, that those who administer it may forget their obligations to their constituents, and prove unfaithful to their important trust. In this point of view, a senate, as a second branch of the legislative assembly, distinct from, and dividing the power with, a first, must be in all cases a salutary check on the government. It doubles the security to the people, by requiring the concurrence of two distinct bodies in schemes of usurpation or perfidy, where the ambition or corruption of one would otherwise be sufficient. This is a precaution founded on such clear principles, and now so well understood in the United States, that it would be more than superfluous to enlarge on it. I will barely remark, that as the improbability of sinister combinations will be in proportion to the dissimilarity in the genius of the two bodies, it must be politic to distinguish them from each other by every circumstance which will consist with a due harmony in all proper measures, and with the genuine principles of republican government. Secondly. The necessity of a senate is not less indicated by the propensity of all single and numerous assemblies to yield to the impulse of sudden and violent passions, and to be seduced by factious leaders into intemperate and pernicious resolutions. Examples on this subject might be cited without number; and from proceedings within the United States, as well as from the history of other nations. But a position that will not be contradicted, need not be proved. All that need be remarked is, that a body which is to correct this infirmity ought itself to be free from it, and consequently ought to be less numerous. It ought, moreover, to possess great firmness, and consequently ought to hold its authority by a tenure of considerable duration. Thirdly. Another defect to be supplied by a senate lies in a want of due acquaintance with the objects and principles of legislation. It is not possible that an assembly of men called for the most part from pursuits of a private nature, continued in appointment for a short time, and led by no permanent motive to devote the intervals of public occupation to a study of the laws, the affairs, and the comprehensive interests of their country, should, if left wholly to themselves, escape a variety of important errors in the exercise of their legislative trust. It may be affirmed, on the best grounds, that no small share of the present embarrassments of America is to be charged on the blunders of our governments; and that these have proceeded from the heads rather than the hearts of most of the authors of them. What indeed are all the repealing, explaining, and amending laws, which fill and disgrace our voluminous codes, but so many monuments of deficient wisdom; so many impeachments exhibited by each succeeding against each preceding session; so many admonitions to the people, of the value of those aids which may be expected from a wellconstituted senate? A good government implies two things: first, fidelity to the object of government, which is the happiness of the people; secondly, a knowledge of the means by which that object can be best attained. Some governments are deficient in both these qualities; most governments are deficient in the first. I scruple not to assert, that in American governments too little attention has been paid to the last. The federal Constitution avoids this error; and what merits particular notice, it provides for the last in a mode which increases the security for the first. Fourthly. The mutability in the public councils arising from a rapid succession of new members, however qualified they may be, points out, in the strongest manner, the necessity of some stable institution in the government. Every new election in the States is found to change one half of the representatives. From this change of men must proceed a change of opinions; and from a change of opinions, a change of measures. But a continual change even of good measures is inconsistent with every rule of prudence and every prospect of success. The remark is verified in private life, and becomes more just, as well as more important, in national transactions. To trace the mischievous effects of a mutable government would fill a volume. I will hint a few only, each of which will be perceived to be a source of innumerable others. In the first place, it forfeits the respect and confidence of other nations, and all the advantages connected with national character. An individual who is observed to be inconstant to his plans, or perhaps to carry on his affairs without any plan at all, is marked at once, by all prudent people, as a speedy victim to his own unsteadiness and folly. His more friendly neighbors may pity him, but all will decline to connect their fortunes with his; and not a few will seize the opportunity of making their fortunes out of his. One nation is to another what one individual is to another; with this melancholy distinction perhaps, that the former, with fewer of the benevolent emotions than the latter, are under fewer restraints also from taking undue advantage from the indiscretions of each other. Every nation, consequently, whose affairs betray a want of wisdom and stability, may calculate on every loss which can be sustained from the more systematic policy of their wiser neighbors. But the best instruction on this subject is unhappily conveyed to America by the example of her own situation. She finds that she is held in no respect by her friends; that she is the derision of her enemies; and that she is a prey to every nation which has an interest in speculating on her fluctuating councils and embarrassed affairs. The internal effects of a mutable policy are still more calamitous. It poisons the blessing of liberty itself. It will be of little avail to the people, that the laws are made by men of their own choice, if the laws be so voluminous that they cannot be read, or so incoherent that they cannot be understood; if they be repealed or revised before they are promulgated, or undergo such incessant changes that no man, who knows what the law is today, can guess what it will be tomorrow. Law is defined to be a rule of action; but how can that be a rule, which is little known, and less fixed? Another effect of public instability is the unreasonable advantage it gives to the sagacious, the enterprising, and the moneyed few over the industrious and uniformed mass of the people. Every new regulation concerning commerce or revenue, or in any way affecting the value of the different species of property, presents a new harvest to those who watch the change, and can trace its consequences; a harvest, reared not by themselves, but by the toils and cares of the great body of their fellowcitizens. This is a state of things in which it may be said with some truth that laws are made for the FEW, not for the MANY. In another point of view, great injury results from an unstable government. The want of confidence in the public councils damps every useful undertaking, the success and profit of which may depend on a continuance of existing arrangements. What prudent merchant will hazard his fortunes in any new branch of commerce when he knows not but that his plans may be rendered unlawful before they can be executed? What farmer or manufacturer will lay himself out for the encouragement given to any particular cultivation or establishment, when he can have no assurance that his preparatory labors and advances will not render him a victim to an inconstant government? In a word, no great improvement or laudable enterprise can go forward which requires the auspices of a steady system of national policy. But the most deplorable effect of all is that diminution of attachment and reverence which steals into the hearts of the people, towards a political system which betrays so many marks of infirmity, and disappoints so many of their flattering hopes. No government, any more than an individual, will long be respected without being truly respectable; nor be truly respectable, without possessing a certain portion of order and stability. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXIII. The Senate Continued For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON OR MADISON To the People of the State of New York: A fifth desideratum, illustrating the utility of a senate, is the want of a due sense of national character. Without a select and stable member of the government, the esteem of foreign powers will not only be forfeited by an unenlightened and variable policy, proceeding from the causes already mentioned, but the national councils will not possess that sensibility to the opinion of the world, which is perhaps not less necessary in order to merit, than it is to obtain, its respect and confidence. An attention to the judgment of other nations is important to every government for two reasons: the one is, that, independently of the merits of any particular plan or measure, it is desirable, on various accounts, that it should appear to other nations as the offspring of a wise and honorable policy; the second is, that in doubtful cases, particularly where the national councils may be warped by some strong passion or momentary interest, the presumed or known opinion of the impartial world may be the best guide that can be followed. What has not America lost by her want of character with foreign nations; and how many errors and follies would she not have avoided, if the justice and propriety of her measures had, in every instance, been previously tried by the light in which they would probably appear to the unbiased part of mankind? Yet however requisite a sense of national character may be, it is evident that it can never be sufficiently possessed by a numerous and changeable body. It can only be found in a number so small that a sensible degree of the praise and blame of public measures may be the portion of each individual; or in an assembly so durably invested with public trust, that the pride and consequence of its members may be sensibly incorporated with the reputation and prosperity of the community. The halfyearly representatives of Rhode Island would probably have been little affected in their deliberations on the iniquitous measures of that State, by arguments drawn from the light in which such measures would be viewed by foreign nations, or even by the sister States; whilst it can scarcely be doubted that if the concurrence of a select and stable body had been necessary, a regard to national character alone would have prevented the calamities under which that misguided people is now laboring. I add, as a SIXTH defect the want, in some important cases, of a due responsibility in the government to the people, arising from that frequency of elections which in other cases produces this responsibility. This remark will, perhaps, appear not only new, but paradoxical. It must nevertheless be acknowledged, when explained, to be as undeniable as it is important. Responsibility, in order to be reasonable, must be limited to objects within the power of the responsible party, and in order to be effectual, must relate to operations of that power, of which a ready and proper judgment can be formed by the constituents. The objects of government may be divided into two general classes: the one depending on measures which have singly an immediate and sensible operation; the other depending on a succession of wellchosen and wellconnected measures, which have a gradual and perhaps unobserved operation. The importance of the latter description to the collective and permanent welfare of every country, needs no explanation. And yet it is evident that an assembly elected for so short a term as to be unable to provide more than one or two links in a chain of measures, on which the general welfare may essentially depend, ought not to be answerable for the final result, any more than a steward or tenant, engaged for one year, could be justly made to answer for places or improvements which could not be accomplished in less than half a dozen years. Nor is it possible for the people to estimate the SHARE of influence which their annual assemblies may respectively have on events resulting from the mixed transactions of several years. It is sufficiently difficult to preserve a personal responsibility in the members of a NUMEROUS body, for such acts of the body as have an immediate, detached, and palpable operation on its constituents. The proper remedy for this defect must be an additional body in the legislative department, which, having sufficient permanency to provide for such objects as require a continued attention, and a train of measures, may be justly and effectually answerable for the attainment of those objects. Thus far I have considered the circumstances which point out the necessity of a wellconstructed Senate only as they relate to the representatives of the people. To a people as little blinded by prejudice or corrupted by flattery as those whom I address, I shall not scruple to add, that such an institution may be sometimes necessary as a defense to the people against their own temporary errors and delusions. As the cool and deliberate sense of the community ought, in all governments, and actually will, in all free governments, ultimately prevail over the views of its rulers; so there are particular moments in public affairs when the people, stimulated by some irregular passion, or some illicit advantage, or misled by the artful misrepresentations of interested men, may call for measures which they themselves will afterwards be the most ready to lament and condemn. In these critical moments, how salutary will be the interference of some temperate and respectable body of citizens, in order to check the misguided career, and to suspend the blow meditated by the people against themselves, until reason, justice, and truth can regain their authority over the public mind? What bitter anguish would not the people of Athens have often escaped if their government had contained so provident a safeguard against the tyranny of their own passions? Popular liberty might then have escaped the indelible reproach of decreeing to the same citizens the hemlock on one day and statues on the next. It may be suggested, that a people spread over an extensive region cannot, like the crowded inhabitants of a small district, be subject to the infection of violent passions, or to the danger of combining in pursuit of unjust measures. I am far from denying that this is a distinction of peculiar importance. I have, on the contrary, endeavored in a former paper to show, that it is one of the principal recommendations of a confederated republic. At the same time, this advantage ought not to be considered as superseding the use of auxiliary precautions. It may even be remarked, that the same extended situation, which will exempt the people of America from some of the dangers incident to lesser republics, will expose them to the inconveniency of remaining for a longer time under the influence of those misrepresentations which the combined industry of interested men may succeed in distributing among them. It adds no small weight to all these considerations, to recollect that history informs us of no longlived republic which had not a senate. Sparta, Rome, and Carthage are, in fact, the only states to whom that character can be applied. In each of the two first there was a senate for life. The constitution of the senate in the last is less known. Circumstantial evidence makes it probable that it was not different in this particular from the two others. It is at least certain, that it had some quality or other which rendered it an anchor against popular fluctuations; and that a smaller council, drawn out of the senate, was appointed not only for life, but filled up vacancies itself. These examples, though as unfit for the imitation, as they are repugnant to the genius, of America, are, notwithstanding, when compared with the fugitive and turbulent existence of other ancient republics, very instructive proofs of the necessity of some institution that will blend stability with liberty. I am not unaware of the circumstances which distinguish the American from other popular governments, as well ancient as modern; and which render extreme circumspection necessary, in reasoning from the one case to the other. But after allowing due weight to this consideration, it may still be maintained, that there are many points of similitude which render these examples not unworthy of our attention. Many of the defects, as we have seen, which can only be supplied by a senatorial institution, are common to a numerous assembly frequently elected by the people, and to the people themselves. There are others peculiar to the former, which require the control of such an institution. The people can never wilfully betray their own interests; but they may possibly be betrayed by the representatives of the people; and the danger will be evidently greater where the whole legislative trust is lodged in the hands of one body of men, than where the concurrence of separate and dissimilar bodies is required in every public act. The difference most relied on, between the American and other republics, consists in the principle of representation; which is the pivot on which the former move, and which is supposed to have been unknown to the latter, or at least to the ancient part of them. The use which has been made of this difference, in reasonings contained in former papers, will have shown that I am disposed neither to deny its existence nor to undervalue its importance. I feel the less restraint, therefore, in observing, that the position concerning the ignorance of the ancient governments on the subject of representation, is by no means precisely true in the latitude commonly given to it. Without entering into a disquisition which here would be misplaced, I will refer to a few known facts, in support of what I advance. In the most pure democracies of Greece, many of the executive functions were performed, not by the people themselves, but by officers elected by the people, and REPRESENTING the people in their EXECUTIVE capacity. Prior to the reform of Solon, Athens was governed by nine Archons, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE AT LARGE. The degree of power delegated to them seems to be left in great obscurity. Subsequent to that period, we find an assembly, first of four, and afterwards of six hundred members, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE; and PARTIALLY representing them in their LEGISLATIVE capacity, since they were not only associated with the people in the function of making laws, but had the exclusive right of originating legislative propositions to the people. The senate of Carthage, also, whatever might be its power, or the duration of its appointment, appears to have been ELECTIVE by the suffrages of the people. Similar instances might be traced in most, if not all the popular governments of antiquity. Lastly, in Sparta we meet with the Ephori, and in Rome with the Tribunes; two bodies, small indeed in numbers, but annually ELECTED BY THE WHOLE BODY OF THE PEOPLE, and considered as the REPRESENTATIVES of the people, almost in their PLENIPOTENTIARY capacity. The Cosmi of Crete were also annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE, and have been considered by some authors as an institution analogous to those of Sparta and Rome, with this difference only, that in the election of that representative body the right of suffrage was communicated to a part only of the people. From these facts, to which many others might be added, it is clear that the principle of representation was neither unknown to the ancients nor wholly overlooked in their political constitutions. The true distinction between these and the American governments, lies IN THE TOTAL EXCLUSION OF THE PEOPLE, IN THEIR COLLECTIVE CAPACITY, from any share in the LATTER, and not in the TOTAL EXCLUSION OF THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE from the administration of the FORMER. The distinction, however, thus qualified, must be admitted to leave a most advantageous superiority in favor of the United States. But to insure to this advantage its full effect, we must be careful not to separate it from the other advantage, of an extensive territory. For it cannot be believed, that any form of representative government could have succeeded within the narrow limits occupied by the democracies of Greece. In answer to all these arguments, suggested by reason, illustrated by examples, and enforced by our own experience, the jealous adversary of the Constitution will probably content himself with repeating, that a senate appointed not immediately by the people, and for the term of six years, must gradually acquire a dangerous preeminence in the government, and finally transform it into a tyrannical aristocracy. To this general answer, the general reply ought to be sufficient, that liberty may be endangered by the abuses of liberty as well as by the abuses of power; that there are numerous instances of the former as well as of the latter; and that the former, rather than the latter, are apparently most to be apprehended by the United States. But a more particular reply may be given. Before such a revolution can be effected, the Senate, it is to be observed, must in the first place corrupt itself; must next corrupt the State legislatures; must then corrupt the House of Representatives; and must finally corrupt the people at large. It is evident that the Senate must be first corrupted before it can attempt an establishment of tyranny. Without corrupting the State legislatures, it cannot prosecute the attempt, because the periodical change of members would otherwise regenerate the whole body. Without exerting the means of corruption with equal success on the House of Representatives, the opposition of that coequal branch of the government would inevitably defeat the attempt; and without corrupting the people themselves, a succession of new representatives would speedily restore all things to their pristine order. Is there any man who can seriously persuade himself that the proposed Senate can, by any possible means within the compass of human address, arrive at the object of a lawless ambition, through all these obstructions? If reason condemns the suspicion, the same sentence is pronounced by experience. The constitution of Maryland furnishes the most apposite example. The Senate of that State is elected, as the federal Senate will be, indirectly by the people, and for a term less by one year only than the federal Senate. It is distinguished, also, by the remarkable prerogative of filling up its own vacancies within the term of its appointment, and, at the same time, is not under the control of any such rotation as is provided for the federal Senate. There are some other lesser distinctions, which would expose the former to colorable objections, that do not lie against the latter. If the federal Senate, therefore, really contained the danger which has been so loudly proclaimed, some symptoms at least of a like danger ought by this time to have been betrayed by the Senate of Maryland, but no such symptoms have appeared. On the contrary, the jealousies at first entertained by men of the same description with those who view with terror the correspondent part of the federal Constitution, have been gradually extinguished by the progress of the experiment; and the Maryland constitution is daily deriving, from the salutary operation of this part of it, a reputation in which it will probably not be rivalled by that of any State in the Union. But if any thing could silence the jealousies on this subject, it ought to be the British example. The Senate there instead of being elected for a term of six years, and of being unconfined to particular families or fortunes, is an hereditary assembly of opulent nobles. The House of Representatives, instead of being elected for two years, and by the whole body of the people, is elected for seven years, and, in very great proportion, by a very small proportion of the people. Here, unquestionably, ought to be seen in full display the aristocratic usurpations and tyranny which are at some future period to be exemplified in the United States. Unfortunately, however, for the antifederal argument, the British history informs us that this hereditary assembly has not been able to defend itself against the continual encroachments of the House of Representatives; and that it no sooner lost the support of the monarch, than it was actually crushed by the weight of the popular branch. As far as antiquity can instruct us on this subject, its examples support the reasoning which we have employed. In Sparta, the Ephori, the annual representatives of the people, were found an overmatch for the senate for life, continually gained on its authority and finally drew all power into their own hands. The Tribunes of Rome, who were the representatives of the people, prevailed, it is well known, in almost every contest with the senate for life, and in the end gained the most complete triumph over it. The fact is the more remarkable, as unanimity was required in every act of the Tribunes, even after their number was augmented to ten. It proves the irresistible force possessed by that branch of a free government, which has the people on its side. To these examples might be added that of Carthage, whose senate, according to the testimony of Polybius, instead of drawing all power into its vortex, had, at the commencement of the second Punic War, lost almost the whole of its original portion. Besides the conclusive evidence resulting from this assemblage of facts, that the federal Senate will never be able to transform itself, by gradual usurpations, into an independent and aristocratic body, we are warranted in believing, that if such a revolution should ever happen from causes which the foresight of man cannot guard against, the House of Representatives, with the people on their side, will at all times be able to bring back the Constitution to its primitive form and principles. Against the force of the immediate representatives of the people, nothing will be able to maintain even the constitutional authority of the Senate, but such a display of enlightened policy, and attachment to the public good, as will divide with that branch of the legislature the affections and support of the entire body of the people themselves. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXIV. The Powers of the Senate From the New York Packet. Friday, March 7, 1788. JAY To the People of the State of New York: It is a just and not a new observation, that enemies to particular persons, and opponents to particular measures, seldom confine their censures to such things only in either as are worthy of blame. Unless on this principle, it is difficult to explain the motives of their conduct, who condemn the proposed Constitution in the aggregate, and treat with severity some of the most unexceptionable articles in it. The second section gives power to the President, BY AND WITH THE ADVICE AND CONSENT OF THE SENATE, TO MAKE TREATIES, PROVIDED TWO THIRDS OF THE SENATORS PRESENT CONCUR. The power of making treaties is an important one, especially as it relates to war, peace, and commerce; and it should not be delegated but in such a mode, and with such precautions, as will afford the highest security that it will be exercised by men the best qualified for the purpose, and in the manner most conducive to the public good. The convention appears to have been attentive to both these points: they have directed the President to be chosen by select bodies of electors, to be deputed by the people for that express purpose; and they have committed the appointment of senators to the State legislatures. This mode has, in such cases, vastly the advantage of elections by the people in their collective capacity, where the activity of party zeal, taking the advantage of the supineness, the ignorance, and the hopes and fears of the unwary and interested, often places men in office by the votes of a small proportion of the electors. As the select assemblies for choosing the President, as well as the State legislatures who appoint the senators, will in general be composed of the most enlightened and respectable citizens, there is reason to presume that their attention and their votes will be directed to those men only who have become the most distinguished by their abilities and virtue, and in whom the people perceive just grounds for confidence. The Constitution manifests very particular attention to this object. By excluding men under thirtyfive from the first office, and those under thirty from the second, it confines the electors to men of whom the people have had time to form a judgment, and with respect to whom they will not be liable to be deceived by those brilliant appearances of genius and patriotism, which, like transient meteors, sometimes mislead as well as dazzle. If the observation be well founded, that wise kings will always be served by able ministers, it is fair to argue, that as an assembly of select electors possess, in a greater degree than kings, the means of extensive and accurate information relative to men and characters, so will their appointments bear at least equal marks of discretion and discernment. The inference which naturally results from these considerations is this, that the President and senators so chosen will always be of the number of those who best understand our national interests, whether considered in relation to the several States or to foreign nations, who are best able to promote those interests, and whose reputation for integrity inspires and merits confidence. With such men the power of making treaties may be safely lodged. Although the absolute necessity of system, in the conduct of any business, is universally known and acknowledged, yet the high importance of it in national affairs has not yet become sufficiently impressed on the public mind. They who wish to commit the power under consideration to a popular assembly, composed of members constantly coming and going in quick succession, seem not to recollect that such a body must necessarily be inadequate to the attainment of those great objects, which require to be steadily contemplated in all their relations and circumstances, and which can only be approached and achieved by measures which not only talents, but also exact information, and often much time, are necessary to concert and to execute. It was wise, therefore, in the convention to provide, not only that the power of making treaties should be committed to able and honest men, but also that they should continue in place a sufficient time to become perfectly acquainted with our national concerns, and to form and introduce a a system for the management of them. The duration prescribed is such as will give them an opportunity of greatly extending their political information, and of rendering their accumulating experience more and more beneficial to their country. Nor has the convention discovered less prudence in providing for the frequent elections of senators in such a way as to obviate the inconvenience of periodically transferring those great affairs entirely to new men; for by leaving a considerable residue of the old ones in place, uniformity and order, as well as a constant succession of official information will be preserved. There are a few who will not admit that the affairs of trade and navigation should be regulated by a system cautiously formed and steadily pursued; and that both our treaties and our laws should correspond with and be made to promote it. It is of much consequence that this correspondence and conformity be carefully maintained; and they who assent to the truth of this position will see and confess that it is well provided for by making concurrence of the Senate necessary both to treaties and to laws. It seldom happens in the negotiation of treaties, of whatever nature, but that perfect SECRECY and immediate DESPATCH are sometimes requisite. These are cases where the most useful intelligence may be obtained, if the persons possessing it can be relieved from apprehensions of discovery. Those apprehensions will operate on those persons whether they are actuated by mercenary or friendly motives; and there doubtless are many of both descriptions, who would rely on the secrecy of the President, but who would not confide in that of the Senate, and still less in that of a large popular Assembly. The convention have done well, therefore, in so disposing of the power of making treaties, that although the President must, in forming them, act by the advice and consent of the Senate, yet he will be able to manage the business of intelligence in such a manner as prudence may suggest. They who have turned their attention to the affairs of men, must have perceived that there are tides in them; tides very irregular in their duration, strength, and direction, and seldom found to run twice exactly in the same manner or measure. To discern and to profit by these tides in national affairs is the business of those who preside over them; and they who have had much experience on this head inform us, that there frequently are occasions when days, nay, even when hours, are precious. The loss of a battle, the death of a prince, the removal of a minister, or other circumstances intervening to change the present posture and aspect of affairs, may turn the most favorable tide into a course opposite to our wishes. As in the field, so in the cabinet, there are moments to be seized as they pass, and they who preside in either should be left in capacity to improve them. So often and so essentially have we heretofore suffered from the want of secrecy and despatch, that the Constitution would have been inexcusably defective, if no attention had been paid to those objects. Those matters which in negotiations usually require the most secrecy and the most despatch, are those preparatory and auxiliary measures which are not otherwise important in a national view, than as they tend to facilitate the attainment of the objects of the negotiation. For these, the President will find no difficulty to provide; and should any circumstance occur which requires the advice and consent of the Senate, he may at any time convene them. Thus we see that the Constitution provides that our negotiations for treaties shall have every advantage which can be derived from talents, information, integrity, and deliberate investigations, on the one hand, and from secrecy and despatch on the other. But to this plan, as to most others that have ever appeared, objections are contrived and urged. Some are displeased with it, not on account of any errors or defects in it, but because, as the treaties, when made, are to have the force of laws, they should be made only by men invested with legislative authority. These gentlemen seem not to consider that the judgments of our courts, and the commissions constitutionally given by our governor, are as valid and as binding on all persons whom they concern, as the laws passed by our legislature. All constitutional acts of power, whether in the executive or in the judicial department, have as much legal validity and obligation as if they proceeded from the legislature; and therefore, whatever name be given to the power of making treaties, or however obligatory they may be when made, certain it is, that the people may, with much propriety, commit the power to a distinct body from the legislature, the executive, or the judicial. It surely does not follow, that because they have given the power of making laws to the legislature, that therefore they should likewise give them the power to do every other act of sovereignty by which the citizens are to be bound and affected. Others, though content that treaties should be made in the mode proposed, are averse to their being the SUPREME laws of the land. They insist, and profess to believe, that treaties like acts of assembly, should be repealable at pleasure. This idea seems to be new and peculiar to this country, but new errors, as well as new truths, often appear. These gentlemen would do well to reflect that a treaty is only another name for a bargain, and that it would be impossible to find a nation who would make any bargain with us, which should be binding on them ABSOLUTELY, but on us only so long and so far as we may think proper to be bound by it. They who make laws may, without doubt, amend or repeal them; and it will not be disputed that they who make treaties may alter or cancel them; but still let us not forget that treaties are made, not by only one of the contracting parties, but by both; and consequently, that as the consent of both was essential to their formation at first, so must it ever afterwards be to alter or cancel them. The proposed Constitution, therefore, has not in the least extended the obligation of treaties. They are just as binding, and just as far beyond the lawful reach of legislative acts now, as they will be at any future period, or under any form of government. However useful jealousy may be in republics, yet when like bile in the natural, it abounds too much in the body politic, the eyes of both become very liable to be deceived by the delusive appearances which that malady casts on surrounding objects. From this cause, probably, proceed the fears and apprehensions of some, that the President and Senate may make treaties without an equal eye to the interests of all the States. Others suspect that two thirds will oppress the remaining third, and ask whether those gentlemen are made sufficiently responsible for their conduct; whether, if they act corruptly, they can be punished; and if they make disadvantageous treaties, how are we to get rid of those treaties? As all the States are equally represented in the Senate, and by men the most able and the most willing to promote the interests of their constituents, they will all have an equal degree of influence in that body, especially while they continue to be careful in appointing proper persons, and to insist on their punctual attendance. In proportion as the United States assume a national form and a national character, so will the good of the whole be more and more an object of attention, and the government must be a weak one indeed, if it should forget that the good of the whole can only be promoted by advancing the good of each of the parts or members which compose the whole. It will not be in the power of the President and Senate to make any treaties by which they and their families and estates will not be equally bound and affected with the rest of the community; and, having no private interests distinct from that of the nation, they will be under no temptations to neglect the latter. As to corruption, the case is not supposable. He must either have been very unfortunate in his intercourse with the world, or possess a heart very susceptible of such impressions, who can think it probable that the President and two thirds of the Senate will ever be capable of such unworthy conduct. The idea is too gross and too invidious to be entertained. But in such a case, if it should ever happen, the treaty so obtained from us would, like all other fraudulent contracts, be null and void by the law of nations. With respect to their responsibility, it is difficult to conceive how it could be increased. Every consideration that can influence the human mind, such as honor, oaths, reputations, conscience, the love of country, and family affections and attachments, afford security for their fidelity. In short, as the Constitution has taken the utmost care that they shall be men of talents and integrity, we have reason to be persuaded that the treaties they make will be as advantageous as, all circumstances considered, could be made; and so far as the fear of punishment and disgrace can operate, that motive to good behavior is amply afforded by the article on the subject of impeachments. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXV. The Powers of the Senate Continued From the New York Packet. Friday, March 7, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The remaining powers which the plan of the convention allots to the Senate, in a distinct capacity, are comprised in their participation with the executive in the appointment to offices, and in their judicial character as a court for the trial of impeachments. As in the business of appointments the executive will be the principal agent, the provisions relating to it will most properly be discussed in the examination of that department. We will, therefore, conclude this head with a view of the judicial character of the Senate. A wellconstituted court for the trial of impeachments is an object not more to be desired than difficult to be obtained in a government wholly elective. The subjects of its jurisdiction are those offenses which proceed from the misconduct of public men, or, in other words, from the abuse or violation of some public trust. They are of a nature which may with peculiar propriety be denominated POLITICAL, as they relate chiefly to injuries done immediately to the society itself. The prosecution of them, for this reason, will seldom fail to agitate the passions of the whole community, and to divide it into parties more or less friendly or inimical to the accused. In many cases it will connect itself with the preexisting factions, and will enlist all their animosities, partialities, influence, and interest on one side or on the other; and in such cases there will always be the greatest danger that the decision will be regulated more by the comparative strength of parties, than by the real demonstrations of innocence or guilt. The delicacy and magnitude of a trust which so deeply concerns the political reputation and existence of every man engaged in the administration of public affairs, speak for themselves. The difficulty of placing it rightly, in a government resting entirely on the basis of periodical elections, will as readily be perceived, when it is considered that the most conspicuous characters in it will, from that circumstance, be too often the leaders or the tools of the most cunning or the most numerous faction, and on this account, can hardly be expected to possess the requisite neutrality towards those whose conduct may be the subject of scrutiny. The convention, it appears, thought the Senate the most fit depositary of this important trust. Those who can best discern the intrinsic difficulty of the thing, will be least hasty in condemning that opinion, and will be most inclined to allow due weight to the arguments which may be supposed to have produced it. What, it may be asked, is the true spirit of the institution itself? Is it not designed as a method of NATIONAL INQUEST into the conduct of public men? If this be the design of it, who can so properly be the inquisitors for the nation as the representatives of the nation themselves? It is not disputed that the power of originating the inquiry, or, in other words, of preferring the impeachment, ought to be lodged in the hands of one branch of the legislative body. Will not the reasons which indicate the propriety of this arrangement strongly plead for an admission of the other branch of that body to a share of the inquiry? The model from which the idea of this institution has been borrowed, pointed out that course to the convention. In Great Britain it is the province of the House of Commons to prefer the impeachment, and of the House of Lords to decide upon it. Several of the State constitutions have followed the example. As well the latter, as the former, seem to have regarded the practice of impeachments as a bridle in the hands of the legislative body upon the executive servants of the government. Is not this the true light in which it ought to be regarded? Where else than in the Senate could have been found a tribunal sufficiently dignified, or sufficiently independent? What other body would be likely to feel CONFIDENCE ENOUGH IN ITS OWN SITUATION, to preserve, unawed and uninfluenced, the necessary impartiality between an INDIVIDUAL accused, and the REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE, HIS ACCUSERS? Could the Supreme Court have been relied upon as answering this description? It is much to be doubted, whether the members of that tribunal would at all times be endowed with so eminent a portion of fortitude, as would be called for in the execution of so difficult a task; and it is still more to be doubted, whether they would possess the degree of credit and authority, which might, on certain occasions, be indispensable towards reconciling the people to a decision that should happen to clash with an accusation brought by their immediate representatives. A deficiency in the first, would be fatal to the accused; in the last, dangerous to the public tranquillity. The hazard in both these respects, could only be avoided, if at all, by rendering that tribunal more numerous than would consist with a reasonable attention to economy. The necessity of a numerous court for the trial of impeachments, is equally dictated by the nature of the proceeding. This can never be tied down by such strict rules, either in the delineation of the offense by the prosecutors, or in the construction of it by the judges, as in common cases serve to limit the discretion of courts in favor of personal security. There will be no jury to stand between the judges who are to pronounce the sentence of the law, and the party who is to receive or suffer it. The awful discretion which a court of impeachments must necessarily have, to doom to honor or to infamy the most confidential and the most distinguished characters of the community, forbids the commitment of the trust to a small number of persons. These considerations seem alone sufficient to authorize a conclusion, that the Supreme Court would have been an improper substitute for the Senate, as a court of impeachments. There remains a further consideration, which will not a little strengthen this conclusion. It is this: The punishment which may be the consequence of conviction upon impeachment, is not to terminate the chastisement of the offender. After having been sentenced to a perpetual ostracism from the esteem and confidence, and honors and emoluments of his country, he will still be liable to prosecution and punishment in the ordinary course of law. Would it be proper that the persons who had disposed of his fame, and his most valuable rights as a citizen in one trial, should, in another trial, for the same offense, be also the disposers of his life and his fortune? Would there not be the greatest reason to apprehend, that error, in the first sentence, would be the parent of error in the second sentence? That the strong bias of one decision would be apt to overrule the influence of any new lights which might be brought to vary the complexion of another decision? Those who know anything of human nature, will not hesitate to answer these questions in the affirmative; and will be at no loss to perceive, that by making the same persons judges in both cases, those who might happen to be the objects of prosecution would, in a great measure, be deprived of the double security intended them by a double trial. The loss of life and estate would often be virtually included in a sentence which, in its terms, imported nothing more than dismission from a present, and disqualification for a future, office. It may be said, that the intervention of a jury, in the second instance, would obviate the danger. But juries are frequently influenced by the opinions of judges. They are sometimes induced to find special verdicts, which refer the main question to the decision of the court. Who would be willing to stake his life and his estate upon the verdict of a jury acting under the auspices of judges who had predetermined his guilt? Would it have been an improvement of the plan, to have united the Supreme Court with the Senate, in the formation of the court of impeachments? This union would certainly have been attended with several advantages; but would they not have been overbalanced by the signal disadvantage, already stated, arising from the agency of the same judges in the double prosecution to which the offender would be liable? To a certain extent, the benefits of that union will be obtained from making the chief justice of the Supreme Court the president of the court of impeachments, as is proposed to be done in the plan of the convention; while the inconveniences of an entire incorporation of the former into the latter will be substantially avoided. This was perhaps the prudent mean. I forbear to remark upon the additional pretext for clamor against the judiciary, which so considerable an augmentation of its authority would have afforded. Would it have been desirable to have composed the court for the trial of impeachments, of persons wholly distinct from the other departments of the government? There are weighty arguments, as well against, as in favor of, such a plan. To some minds it will not appear a trivial objection, that it could tend to increase the complexity of the political machine, and to add a new spring to the government, the utility of which would at best be questionable. But an objection which will not be thought by any unworthy of attention, is this: a court formed upon such a plan, would either be attended with a heavy expense, or might in practice be subject to a variety of casualties and inconveniences. It must either consist of permanent officers, stationary at the seat of government, and of course entitled to fixed and regular stipends, or of certain officers of the State governments to be called upon whenever an impeachment was actually depending. It will not be easy to imagine any third mode materially different, which could rationally be proposed. As the court, for reasons already given, ought to be numerous, the first scheme will be reprobated by every man who can compare the extent of the public wants with the means of supplying them. The second will be espoused with caution by those who will seriously consider the difficulty of collecting men dispersed over the whole Union; the injury to the innocent, from the procrastinated determination of the charges which might be brought against them; the advantage to the guilty, from the opportunities which delay would afford to intrigue and corruption; and in some cases the detriment to the State, from the prolonged inaction of men whose firm and faithful execution of their duty might have exposed them to the persecution of an intemperate or designing majority in the House of Representatives. Though this latter supposition may seem harsh, and might not be likely often to be verified, yet it ought not to be forgotten that the demon of faction will, at certain seasons, extend his sceptre over all numerous bodies of men. But though one or the other of the substitutes which have been examined, or some other that might be devised, should be thought preferable to the plan in this respect, reported by the convention, it will not follow that the Constitution ought for this reason to be rejected. If mankind were to resolve to agree in no institution of government, until every part of it had been adjusted to the most exact standard of perfection, society would soon become a general scene of anarchy, and the world a desert. Where is the standard of perfection to be found? Who will undertake to unite the discordant opinions of a whole community, in the same judgment of it; and to prevail upon one conceited projector to renounce his INFALLIBLE criterion for the FALLIBLE criterion of his more CONCEITED NEIGHBOR? To answer the purpose of the adversaries of the Constitution, they ought to prove, not merely that particular provisions in it are not the best which might have been imagined, but that the plan upon the whole is bad and pernicious. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXVI. Objections to the Power of the Senate To Set as a Court for Impeachments Further Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 11, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: A review of the principal objections that have appeared against the proposed court for the trial of impeachments, will not improbably eradicate the remains of any unfavorable impressions which may still exist in regard to this matter. The FIRST of these objections is, that the provision in question confounds legislative and judiciary authorities in the same body, in violation of that important and wellestablished maxim which requires a separation between the different departments of power. The true meaning of this maxim has been discussed and ascertained in another place, and has been shown to be entirely compatible with a partial intermixture of those departments for special purposes, preserving them, in the main, distinct and unconnected. This partial intermixture is even, in some cases, not only proper but necessary to the mutual defense of the several members of the government against each other. An absolute or qualified negative in the executive upon the acts of the legislative body, is admitted, by the ablest adepts in political science, to be an indispensable barrier against the encroachments of the latter upon the former. And it may, perhaps, with no less reason be contended, that the powers relating to impeachments are, as before intimated, an essential check in the hands of that body upon the encroachments of the executive. The division of them between the two branches of the legislature, assigning to one the right of accusing, to the other the right of judging, avoids the inconvenience of making the same persons both accusers and judges; and guards against the danger of persecution, from the prevalency of a factious spirit in either of those branches. As the concurrence of two thirds of the Senate will be requisite to a condemnation, the security to innocence, from this additional circumstance, will be as complete as itself can desire. It is curious to observe, with what vehemence this part of the plan is assailed, on the principle here taken notice of, by men who profess to admire, without exception, the constitution of this State; while that constitution makes the Senate, together with the chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, not only a court of impeachments, but the highest judicatory in the State, in all causes, civil and criminal. The proportion, in point of numbers, of the chancellor and judges to the senators, is so inconsiderable, that the judiciary authority of New York, in the last resort, may, with truth, be said to reside in its Senate. If the plan of the convention be, in this respect, chargeable with a departure from the celebrated maxim which has been so often mentioned, and seems to be so little understood, how much more culpable must be the constitution of New York?1 A SECOND objection to the Senate, as a court of impeachments, is, that it contributes to an undue accumulation of power in that body, tending to give to the government a countenance too aristocratic. The Senate, it is observed, is to have concurrent authority with the Executive in the formation of treaties and in the appointment to offices: if, say the objectors, to these prerogatives is added that of deciding in all cases of impeachment, it will give a decided predominancy to senatorial influence. To an objection so little precise in itself, it is not easy to find a very precise answer. Where is the measure or criterion to which we can appeal, for determining what will give the Senate too much, too little, or barely the proper degree of influence? Will it not be more safe, as well as more simple, to dismiss such vague and uncertain calculations, to examine each power by itself, and to decide, on general principles, where it may be deposited with most advantage and least inconvenience? If we take this course, it will lead to a more intelligible, if not to a more certain result. The disposition of the power of making treaties, which has obtained in the plan of the convention, will, then, if I mistake not, appear to be fully justified by the considerations stated in a former number, and by others which will occur under the next head of our inquiries. The expediency of the junction of the Senate with the Executive, in the power of appointing to offices, will, I trust, be placed in a light not less satisfactory, in the disquisitions under the same head. And I flatter myself the observations in my last paper must have gone no inconsiderable way towards proving that it was not easy, if practicable, to find a more fit receptacle for the power of determining impeachments, than that which has been chosen. If this be truly the case, the hypothetical dread of the too great weight of the Senate ought to be discarded from our reasonings. But this hypothesis, such as it is, has already been refuted in the remarks applied to the duration in office prescribed for the senators. It was by them shown, as well on the credit of historical examples, as from the reason of the thing, that the most POPULAR branch of every government, partaking of the republican genius, by being generally the favorite of the people, will be as generally a full match, if not an overmatch, for every other member of the Government. But independent of this most active and operative principle, to secure the equilibrium of the national House of Representatives, the plan of the convention has provided in its favor several important counterpoises to the additional authorities to be conferred upon the Senate. The exclusive privilege of originating money bills will belong to the House of Representatives. The same house will possess the sole right of instituting impeachments: is not this a complete counterbalance to that of determining them? The same house will be the umpire in all elections of the President, which do not unite the suffrages of a majority of the whole number of electors; a case which it cannot be doubted will sometimes, if not frequently, happen. The constant possibility of the thing must be a fruitful source of influence to that body. The more it is contemplated, the more important will appear this ultimate though contingent power, of deciding the competitions of the most illustrious citizens of the Union, for the first office in it. It would not perhaps be rash to predict, that as a mean of influence it will be found to outweigh all the peculiar attributes of the Senate. A THIRD objection to the Senate as a court of impeachments, is drawn from the agency they are to have in the appointments to office. It is imagined that they would be too indulgent judges of the conduct of men, in whose official creation they had participated. The principle of this objection would condemn a practice, which is to be seen in all the State governments, if not in all the governments with which we are acquainted: I mean that of rendering those who hold offices during pleasure, dependent on the pleasure of those who appoint them. With equal plausibility might it be alleged in this case, that the favoritism of the latter would always be an asylum for the misbehavior of the former. But that practice, in contradiction to this principle, proceeds upon the presumption, that the responsibility of those who appoint, for the fitness and competency of the persons on whom they bestow their choice, and the interest they will have in the respectable and prosperous administration of affairs, will inspire a sufficient disposition to dismiss from a share in it all such who, by their conduct, shall have proved themselves unworthy of the confidence reposed in them. Though facts may not always correspond with this presumption, yet if it be, in the main, just, it must destroy the supposition that the Senate, who will merely sanction the choice of the Executive, should feel a bias, towards the objects of that choice, strong enough to blind them to the evidences of guilt so extraordinary, as to have induced the representatives of the nation to become its accusers. If any further arguments were necessary to evince the improbability of such a bias, it might be found in the nature of the agency of the Senate in the business of appointments. It will be the office of the President to NOMINATE, and, with the advice and consent of the Senate, to APPOINT. There will, of course, be no exertion of CHOICE on the part of the Senate. They may defeat one choice of the Executive, and oblige him to make another; but they cannot themselves CHOOSE, they can only ratify or reject the choice of the President. They might even entertain a preference to some other person, at the very moment they were assenting to the one proposed, because there might be no positive ground of opposition to him; and they could not be sure, if they withheld their assent, that the subsequent nomination would fall upon their own favorite, or upon any other person in their estimation more meritorious than the one rejected. Thus it could hardly happen, that the majority of the Senate would feel any other complacency towards the object of an appointment than such as the appearances of merit might inspire, and the proofs of the want of it destroy. A FOURTH objection to the Senate in the capacity of a court of impeachments, is derived from its union with the Executive in the power of making treaties. This, it has been said, would constitute the senators their own judges, in every case of a corrupt or perfidious execution of that trust. After having combined with the Executive in betraying the interests of the nation in a ruinous treaty, what prospect, it is asked, would there be of their being made to suffer the punishment they would deserve, when they were themselves to decide upon the accusation brought against them for the treachery of which they have been guilty? This objection has been circulated with more earnestness and with greater show of reason than any other which has appeared against this part of the plan; and yet I am deceived if it does not rest upon an erroneous foundation. The security essentially intended by the Constitution against corruption and treachery in the formation of treaties, is to be sought for in the numbers and characters of those who are to make them. The JOINT AGENCY of the Chief Magistrate of the Union, and of two thirds of the members of a body selected by the collective wisdom of the legislatures of the several States, is designed to be the pledge for the fidelity of the national councils in this particular. The convention might with propriety have meditated the punishment of the Executive, for a deviation from the instructions of the Senate, or a want of integrity in the conduct of the negotiations committed to him; they might also have had in view the punishment of a few leading individuals in the Senate, who should have prostituted their influence in that body as the mercenary instruments of foreign corruption: but they could not, with more or with equal propriety, have contemplated the impeachment and punishment of two thirds of the Senate, consenting to an improper treaty, than of a majority of that or of the other branch of the national legislature, consenting to a pernicious or unconstitutional law, a principle which, I believe, has never been admitted into any government. How, in fact, could a majority in the House of Representatives impeach themselves? Not better, it is evident, than two thirds of the Senate might try themselves. And yet what reason is there, that a majority of the House of Representatives, sacrificing the interests of the society by an unjust and tyrannical act of legislation, should escape with impunity, more than two thirds of the Senate, sacrificing the same interests in an injurious treaty with a foreign power? The truth is, that in all such cases it is essential to the freedom and to the necessary independence of the deliberations of the body, that the members of it should be exempt from punishment for acts done in a collective capacity; and the security to the society must depend on the care which is taken to confide the trust to proper hands, to make it their interest to execute it with fidelity, and to make it as difficult as possible for them to combine in any interest opposite to that of the public good. So far as might concern the misbehavior of the Executive in perverting the instructions or contravening the views of the Senate, we need not be apprehensive of the want of a disposition in that body to punish the abuse of their confidence or to vindicate their own authority. We may thus far count upon their pride, if not upon their virtue. And so far even as might concern the corruption of leading members, by whose arts and influence the majority may have been inveigled into measures odious to the community, if the proofs of that corruption should be satisfactory, the usual propensity of human nature will warrant us in concluding that there would be commonly no defect of inclination in the body to divert the public resentment from themselves by a ready sacrifice of the authors of their mismanagement and disgrace. PUBLIUS. 1 In that of New Jersey, also, the final judiciary authority is in a branch of the legislature. In New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Pennsylvanis, and South Carolina, one branch of the legislature is the court for the trial of impeachments. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXVII. The Executive Department From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 11, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The constitution of the executive department of the proposed government, claims next our attention. There is hardly any part of the system which could have been attended with greater difficulty in the arrangement of it than this; and there is, perhaps, none which has been inveighed against with less candor or criticised with less judgment. Here the writers against the Constitution seem to have taken pains to signalize their talent of misrepresentation. Calculating upon the aversion of the people to monarchy, they have endeavored to enlist all their jealousies and apprehensions in opposition to the intended President of the United States; not merely as the embryo, but as the fullgrown progeny, of that detested parent. To establish the pretended affinity, they have not scrupled to draw resources even from the regions of fiction. The authorities of a magistrate, in few instances greater, in some instances less, than those of a governor of New York, have been magnified into more than royal prerogatives. He has been decorated with attributes superior in dignity and splendor to those of a king of Great Britain. He has been shown to us with the diadem sparkling on his brow and the imperial purple flowing in his train. He has been seated on a throne surrounded with minions and mistresses, giving audience to the envoys of foreign potentates, in all the supercilious pomp of majesty. The images of Asiatic despotism and voluptuousness have scarcely been wanting to crown the exaggerated scene. We have been taught to tremble at the terrific visages of murdering janizaries, and to blush at the unveiled mysteries of a future seraglio. Attempts so extravagant as these to disfigure or, it might rather be said, to metamorphose the object, render it necessary to take an accurate view of its real nature and form: in order as well to ascertain its true aspect and genuine appearance, as to unmask the disingenuity and expose the fallacy of the counterfeit resemblances which have been so insidiously, as well as industriously, propagated. In the execution of this task, there is no man who would not find it an arduous effort either to behold with moderation, or to treat with seriousness, the devices, not less weak than wicked, which have been contrived to pervert the public opinion in relation to the subject. They so far exceed the usual though unjustifiable licenses of party artifice, that even in a disposition the most candid and tolerant, they must force the sentiments which favor an indulgent construction of the conduct of political adversaries to give place to a voluntary and unreserved indignation. It is impossible not to bestow the imputation of deliberate imposture and deception upon the gross pretense of a similitude between a king of Great Britain and a magistrate of the character marked out for that of the President of the United States. It is still more impossible to withhold that imputation from the rash and barefaced expedients which have been employed to give success to the attempted imposition. In one instance, which I cite as a sample of the general spirit, the temerity has proceeded so far as to ascribe to the President of the United States a power which by the instrument reported is EXPRESSLY allotted to the Executives of the individual States. I mean the power of filling casual vacancies in the Senate. This bold experiment upon the discernment of his countrymen has been hazarded by a writer who (whatever may be his real merit) has had no inconsiderable share in the applauses of his party;1 and who, upon this false and unfounded suggestion, has built a series of observations equally false and unfounded. Let him now be confronted with the evidence of the fact, and let him, if he be able, justify or extenuate the shameful outrage he has offered to the dictates of truth and to the rules of fair dealing. The second clause of the second section of the second article empowers the President of the United States to nominate, and by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors, other public ministers and consuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all other OFFICERS of United States whose appointments are NOT in the Constitution OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR, and WHICH SHALL BE ESTABLISHED BY LAW. Immediately after this clause follows another in these words: The President shall have power to fill up ?? VACANCIES that may happen DURING THE RECESS OF THE SENATE, by granting commissions which shall EXPIRE AT THE END OF THEIR NEXT SESSION. It is from this last provision that the pretended power of the President to fill vacancies in the Senate has been deduced. A slight attention to the connection of the clauses, and to the obvious meaning of the terms, will satisfy us that the deduction is not even colorable. The first of these two clauses, it is clear, only provides a mode for appointing such officers, whose appointments are NOT OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR in the Constitution, and which SHALL BE ESTABLISHED BY LAW; of course it cannot extend to the appointments of senators, whose appointments are OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR in the Constitution,2 and who are ESTABLISHED BY THE CONSTITUTION, and will not require a future establishment by law. This position will hardly be contested. The last of these two clauses, it is equally clear, cannot be understood to comprehend the power of filling vacancies in the Senate, for the following reasons: First. The relation in which that clause stands to the other, which declares the general mode of appointing officers of the United States, denotes it to be nothing more than a supplement to the other, for the purpose of establishing an auxiliary method of appointment, in cases to which the general method was inadequate. The ordinary power of appointment is confined to the President and Senate JOINTLY, and can therefore only be exercised during the session of the Senate; but as it would have been improper to oblige this body to be continually in session for the appointment of officers and as vacancies might happen IN THEIR RECESS, which it might be necessary for the public service to fill without delay, the succeeding clause is evidently intended to authorize the President, SINGLY, to make temporary appointments during the recess of the Senate, by granting commissions which shall expire at the end of their next session. Secondly. If this clause is to be considered as supplementary to the one which precedes, the VACANCIES of which it speaks must be construed to relate to the officers described in the preceding one; and this, we have seen, excludes from its description the members of the Senate. Thirdly. The time within which the power is to operate, during the recess of the Senate, and the duration of the appointments, to the end of the next session of that body, conspire to elucidate the sense of the provision, which, if it had been intended to comprehend senators, would naturally have referred the temporary power of filling vacancies to the recess of the State legislatures, who are to make the permanent appointments, and not to the recess of the national Senate, who are to have no concern in those appointments; and would have extended the duration in office of the temporary senators to the next session of the legislature of the State, in whose representation the vacancies had happened, instead of making it to expire at the end of the ensuing session of the national Senate. The circumstances of the body authorized to make the permanent appointments would, of course, have governed the modification of a power which related to the temporary appointments; and as the national Senate is the body, whose situation is alone contemplated in the clause upon which the suggestion under examination has been founded, the vacancies to which it alludes can only be deemed to respect those officers in whose appointment that body has a concurrent agency with the President. But lastly, the first and second clauses of the third section of the first article, not only obviate all possibility of doubt, but destroy the pretext of misconception. The former provides, that the Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen BY THE LEGISLATURE THEREOF for six years; and the latter directs, that, if vacancies in that body should happen by resignation or otherwise, DURING THE RECESS OF THE LEGISLATURE OF ANY STATE, the Executive THEREOF may make temporary appointments until the NEXT MEETING OF THE LEGISLATURE, which shall then fill such vacancies. Here is an express power given, in clear and unambiguous terms, to the State Executives, to fill casual vacancies in the Senate, by temporary appointments; which not only invalidates the supposition, that the clause before considered could have been intended to confer that power upon the President of the United States, but proves that this supposition, destitute as it is even of the merit of plausibility, must have originated in an intention to deceive the people, too palpable to be obscured by sophistry, too atrocious to be palliated by hypocrisy. I have taken the pains to select this instance of misrepresentation, and to place it in a clear and strong light, as an unequivocal proof of the unwarrantable arts which are practiced to prevent a fair and impartial judgment of the real merits of the Constitution submitted to the consideration of the people. Nor have I scrupled, in so flagrant a case, to allow myself a severity of animadversion little congenial with the general spirit of these papers. I hesitate not to submit it to the decision of any candid and honest adversary of the proposed government, whether language can furnish epithets of too much asperity, for so shameless and so prostitute an attempt to impose on the citizens of America. PUBLIUS. 1 See CATO, No. V. 2 Article 1, section 3, clause 1. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXVIII. The Mode of Electing the President From the New York Packet. Friday, March 14, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The mode of appointment of the Chief Magistrate of the United States is almost the only part of the system, of any consequence, which has escaped without severe censure, or which has received the slightest mark of approbation from its opponents. The most plausible of these, who has appeared in print, has even deigned to admit that the election of the President is pretty well guarded.1 I venture somewhat further, and hesitate not to affirm, that if the manner of it be not perfect, it is at least excellent. It unites in an eminent degree all the advantages, the union of which was to be wished for. It was desirable that the sense of the people should operate in the choice of the person to whom so important a trust was to be confided. This end will be answered by committing the right of making it, not to any preestablished body, but to men chosen by the people for the special purpose, and at the particular conjuncture. It was equally desirable, that the immediate election should be made by men most capable of analyzing the qualities adapted to the station, and acting under circumstances favorable to deliberation, and to a judicious combination of all the reasons and inducements which were proper to govern their choice. A small number of persons, selected by their fellowcitizens from the general mass, will be most likely to possess the information and discernment requisite to such complicated investigations. It was also peculiarly desirable to afford as little opportunity as possible to tumult and disorder. This evil was not least to be dreaded in the election of a magistrate, who was to have so important an agency in the administration of the government as the President of the United States. But the precautions which have been so happily concerted in the system under consideration, promise an effectual security against this mischief. The choice of SEVERAL, to form an intermediate body of electors, will be much less apt to convulse the community with any extraordinary or violent movements, than the choice of ONE who was himself to be the final object of the public wishes. And as the electors, chosen in each State, are to assemble and vote in the State in which they are chosen, this detached and divided situation will expose them much less to heats and ferments, which might be communicated from them to the people, than if they were all to be convened at one time, in one place. Nothing was more to be desired than that every practicable obstacle should be opposed to cabal, intrigue, and corruption. These most deadly adversaries of republican government might naturally have been expected to make their approaches from more than one quarter, but chiefly from the desire in foreign powers to gain an improper ascendant in our councils. How could they better gratify this, than by raising a creature of their own to the chief magistracy of the Union? But the convention have guarded against all danger of this sort, with the most provident and judicious attention. They have not made the appointment of the President to depend on any preexisting bodies of men, who might be tampered with beforehand to prostitute their votes; but they have referred it in the first instance to an immediate act of the people of America, to be exerted in the choice of persons for the temporary and sole purpose of making the appointment. And they have excluded from eligibility to this trust, all those who from situation might be suspected of too great devotion to the President in office. No senator, representative, or other person holding a place of trust or profit under the United States, can be of the numbers of the electors. Thus without corrupting the body of the people, the immediate agents in the election will at least enter upon the task free from any sinister bias. Their transient existence, and their detached situation, already taken notice of, afford a satisfactory prospect of their continuing so, to the conclusion of it. The business of corruption, when it is to embrace so considerable a number of men, requires time as well as means. Nor would it be found easy suddenly to embark them, dispersed as they would be over thirteen States, in any combinations founded upon motives, which though they could not properly be denominated corrupt, might yet be of a nature to mislead them from their duty. Another and no less important desideratum was, that the Executive should be independent for his continuance in office on all but the people themselves. He might otherwise be tempted to sacrifice his duty to his complaisance for those whose favor was necessary to the duration of his official consequence. This advantage will also be secured, by making his reelection to depend on a special body of representatives, deputed by the society for the single purpose of making the important choice. All these advantages will happily combine in the plan devised by the convention; which is, that the people of each State shall choose a number of persons as electors, equal to the number of senators and representatives of such State in the national government, who shall assemble within the State, and vote for some fit person as President. Their votes, thus given, are to be transmitted to the seat of the national government, and the person who may happen to have a majority of the whole number of votes will be the President. But as a majority of the votes might not always happen to centre in one man, and as it might be unsafe to permit less than a majority to be conclusive, it is provided that, in such a contingency, the House of Representatives shall select out of the candidates who shall have the five highest number of votes, the man who in their opinion may be best qualified for the office. The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole Union, or of so considerable a portion of it as would be necessary to make him a successful candidate for the distinguished office of President of the United States. It will not be too strong to say, that there will be a constant probability of seeing the station filled by characters preeminent for ability and virtue. And this will be thought no inconsiderable recommendation of the Constitution, by those who are able to estimate the share which the executive in every government must necessarily have in its good or ill administration. Though we cannot acquiesce in the political heresy of the poet who says: For forms of government let fools contest That which is best administered is best, yet we may safely pronounce, that the true test of a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good administration. The VicePresident is to be chosen in the same manner with the President; with this difference, that the Senate is to do, in respect to the former, what is to be done by the House of Representatives, in respect to the latter. The appointment of an extraordinary person, as VicePresident, has been objected to as superfluous, if not mischievous. It has been alleged, that it would have been preferable to have authorized the Senate to elect out of their own body an officer answering that description. But two considerations seem to justify the ideas of the convention in this respect. One is, that to secure at all times the possibility of a definite resolution of the body, it is necessary that the President should have only a casting vote. And to take the senator of any State from his seat as senator, to place him in that of President of the Senate, would be to exchange, in regard to the State from which he came, a constant for a contingent vote. The other consideration is, that as the VicePresident may occasionally become a substitute for the President, in the supreme executive magistracy, all the reasons which recommend the mode of election prescribed for the one, apply with great if not with equal force to the manner of appointing the other. It is remarkable that in this, as in most other instances, the objection which is made would lie against the constitution of this State. We have a LieutenantGovernor, chosen by the people at large, who presides in the Senate, and is the constitutional substitute for the Governor, in casualties similar to those which would authorize the VicePresident to exercise the authorities and discharge the duties of the President. PUBLIUS. 1 Vide Federal Farmer. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXIX. The Real Character of the Executive From the New York Packet. Friday, March 14, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: I proceed now to trace the real characters of the proposed Executive, as they are marked out in the plan of the convention. This will serve to place in a strong light the unfairness of the representations which have been made in regard to it. The first thing which strikes our attention is, that the executive authority, with few exceptions, is to be vested in a single magistrate. This will scarcely, however, be considered as a point upon which any comparison can be grounded; for if, in this particular, there be a resemblance to the king of Great Britain, there is not less a resemblance to the Grand Seignior, to the khan of Tartary, to the Man of the Seven Mountains, or to the governor of New York. That magistrate is to be elected for FOUR years; and is to be reeligible as often as the people of the United States shall think him worthy of their confidence. In these circumstances there is a total dissimilitude between HIM and a king of Great Britain, who is an HEREDITARY monarch, possessing the crown as a patrimony descendible to his heirs forever; but there is a close analogy between HIM and a governor of New York, who is elected for THREE years, and is reeligible without limitation or intermission. If we consider how much less time would be requisite for establishing a dangerous influence in a single State, than for establishing a like influence throughout the United States, we must conclude that a duration of FOUR years for the Chief Magistrate of the Union is a degree of permanency far less to be dreaded in that office, than a duration of THREE years for a corresponding office in a single State. The President of the United States would be liable to be impeached, tried, and, upon conviction of treason, bribery, or other high crimes or misdemeanors, removed from office; and would afterwards be liable to prosecution and punishment in the ordinary course of law. The person of the king of Great Britain is sacred and inviolable; there is no constitutional tribunal to which he is amenable; no punishment to which he can be subjected without involving the crisis of a national revolution. In this delicate and important circumstance of personal responsibility, the President of Confederated America would stand upon no better ground than a governor of New York, and upon worse ground than the governors of Maryland and Delaware. The President of the United States is to have power to return a bill, which shall have passed the two branches of the legislature, for reconsideration; and the bill so returned is to become a law, if, upon that reconsideration, it be approved by two thirds of both houses. The king of Great Britain, on his part, has an absolute negative upon the acts of the two houses of Parliament. The disuse of that power for a considerable time past does not affect the reality of its existence; and is to be ascribed wholly to the crowns having found the means of substituting influence to authority, or the art of gaining a majority in one or the other of the two houses, to the necessity of exerting a prerogative which could seldom be exerted without hazarding some degree of national agitation. The qualified negative of the President differs widely from this absolute negative of the British sovereign; and tallies exactly with the revisionary authority of the council of revision of this State, of which the governor is a constituent part. In this respect the power of the President would exceed that of the governor of New York, because the former would possess, singly, what the latter shares with the chancellor and judges; but it would be precisely the same with that of the governor of Massachusetts, whose constitution, as to this article, seems to have been the original from which the convention have copied. The President is to be the commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States, and of the militia of the several States, when called into the actual service of the United States. He is to have power to grant reprieves and pardons for offenses against the United States, EXCEPT IN CASES OF IMPEACHMENT; to recommend to the consideration of Congress such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; to convene, on extraordinary occasions, both houses of the legislature, or either of them, and, in case of disagreement between them WITH RESPECT TO THE TIME OF ADJOURNMENT, to adjourn them to such time as he shall think proper; to take care that the laws be faithfully executed; and to commission all officers of the United States. In most of these particulars, the power of the President will resemble equally that of the king of Great Britain and of the governor of New York. The most material points of difference are these: First. The President will have only the occasional command of such part of the militia of the nation as by legislative provision may be called into the actual service of the Union. The king of Great Britain and the governor of New York have at all times the entire command of all the militia within their several jurisdictions. In this article, therefore, the power of the President would be inferior to that of either the monarch or the governor. Secondly. The President is to be commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States. In this respect his authority would be nominally the same with that of the king of Great Britain, but in substance much inferior to it. It would amount to nothing more than the supreme command and direction of the military and naval forces, as first General and admiral of the Confederacy; while that of the British king extends to the DECLARING of war and to the RAISING and REGULATING of fleets and armies, all which, by the Constitution under consideration, would appertain to the legislature.1 The governor of New York, on the other hand, is by the constitution of the State vested only with the command of its militia and navy. But the constitutions of several of the States expressly declare their governors to be commandersinchief, as well of the army as navy; and it may well be a question, whether those of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, in particular, do not, in this instance, confer larger powers upon their respective governors, than could be claimed by a President of the United States. Thirdly. The power of the President, in respect to pardons, would extend to all cases, EXCEPT THOSE OF IMPEACHMENT. The governor of New York may pardon in all cases, even in those of impeachment, except for treason and murder. Is not the power of the governor, in this article, on a calculation of political consequences, greater than that of the President? All conspiracies and plots against the government, which have not been matured into actual treason, may be screened from punishment of every kind, by the interposition of the prerogative of pardoning. If a governor of New York, therefore, should be at the head of any such conspiracy, until the design had been ripened into actual hostility he could insure his accomplices and adherents an entire impunity. A President of the Union, on the other hand, though he may even pardon treason, when prosecuted in the ordinary course of law, could shelter no offender, in any degree, from the effects of impeachment and conviction. Would not the prospect of a total indemnity for all the preliminary steps be a greater temptation to undertake and persevere in an enterprise against the public liberty, than the mere prospect of an exemption from death and confiscation, if the final execution of the design, upon an actual appeal to arms, should miscarry? Would this last expectation have any influence at all, when the probability was computed, that the person who was to afford that exemption might himself be involved in the consequences of the measure, and might be incapacitated by his agency in it from affording the desired impunity? The better to judge of this matter, it will be necessary to recollect, that, by the proposed Constitution, the offense of treason is limited to levying war upon the United States, and adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort; and that by the laws of New York it is confined within similar bounds. Fourthly. The President can only adjourn the national legislature in the single case of disagreement about the time of adjournment. The British monarch may prorogue or even dissolve the Parliament. The governor of New York may also prorogue the legislature of this State for a limited time; a power which, in certain situations, may be employed to very important purposes. The President is to have power, with the advice and consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the senators present concur. The king of Great Britain is the sole and absolute representative of the nation in all foreign transactions. He can of his own accord make treaties of peace, commerce, alliance, and of every other description. It has been insinuated, that his authority in this respect is not conclusive, and that his conventions with foreign powers are subject to the revision, and stand in need of the ratification, of Parliament. But I believe this doctrine was never heard of, until it was broached upon the present occasion. Every jurist2 of that kingdom, and every other man acquainted with its Constitution, knows, as an established fact, that the prerogative of making treaties exists in the crown in its utmost plentitude; and that the compacts entered into by the royal authority have the most complete legal validity and perfection, independent of any other sanction. The Parliament, it is true, is sometimes seen employing itself in altering the existing laws to conform them to the stipulations in a new treaty; and this may have possibly given birth to the imagination, that its cooperation was necessary to the obligatory efficacy of the treaty. But this parliamentary interposition proceeds from a different cause: from the necessity of adjusting a most artificial and intricate system of revenue and commercial laws, to the changes made in them by the operation of the treaty; and of adapting new provisions and precautions to the new state of things, to keep the machine from running into disorder. In this respect, therefore, there is no comparison between the intended power of the President and the actual power of the British sovereign. The one can perform alone what the other can do only with the concurrence of a branch of the legislature. It must be admitted, that, in this instance, the power of the federal Executive would exceed that of any State Executive. But this arises naturally from the sovereign power which relates to treaties. If the Confederacy were to be dissolved, it would become a question, whether the Executives of the several States were not solely invested with that delicate and important prerogative. The President is also to be authorized to receive ambassadors and other public ministers. This, though it has been a rich theme of declamation, is more a matter of dignity than of authority. It is a circumstance which will be without consequence in the administration of the government; and it was far more convenient that it should be arranged in this manner, than that there should be a necessity of convening the legislature, or one of its branches, upon every arrival of a foreign minister, though it were merely to take the place of a departed predecessor. The President is to nominate, and, WITH THE ADVICE AND CONSENT OF THE SENATE, to appoint ambassadors and other public ministers, judges of the Supreme Court, and in general all officers of the United States established by law, and whose appointments are not otherwise provided for by the Constitution. The king of Great Britain is emphatically and truly styled the fountain of honor. He not only appoints to all offices, but can create offices. He can confer titles of nobility at pleasure; and has the disposal of an immense number of church preferments. There is evidently a great inferiority in the power of the President, in this particular, to that of the British king; nor is it equal to that of the governor of New York, if we are to interpret the meaning of the constitution of the State by the practice which has obtained under it. The power of appointment is with us lodged in a council, composed of the governor and four members of the Senate, chosen by the Assembly. The governor CLAIMS, and has frequently EXERCISED, the right of nomination, and is ENTITLED to a casting vote in the appointment. If he really has the right of nominating, his authority is in this respect equal to that of the President, and exceeds it in the article of the casting vote. In the national government, if the Senate should be divided, no appointment could be made; in the government of New York, if the council should be divided, the governor can turn the scale, and confirm his own nomination.3 If we compare the publicity which must necessarily attend the mode of appointment by the President and an entire branch of the national legislature, with the privacy in the mode of appointment by the governor of New York, closeted in a secret apartment with at most four, and frequently with only two persons; and if we at the same time consider how much more easy it must be to influence the small number of which a council of appointment consists, than the considerable number of which the national Senate would consist, we cannot hesitate to pronounce that the power of the chief magistrate of this State, in the disposition of offices, must, in practice, be greatly superior to that of the Chief Magistrate of the Union. Hence it appears that, except as to the concurrent authority of the President in the article of treaties, it would be difficult to determine whether that magistrate would, in the aggregate, possess more or less power than the Governor of New York. And it appears yet more unequivocally, that there is no pretense for the parallel which has been attempted between him and the king of Great Britain. But to render the contrast in this respect still more striking, it may be of use to throw the principal circumstances of dissimilitude into a closer group. The President of the United States would be an officer elected by the people for FOUR years; the king of Great Britain is a perpetual and HEREDITARY prince. The one would be amenable to personal punishment and disgrace; the person of the other is sacred and inviolable. The one would have a QUALIFIED negative upon the acts of the legislative body; the other has an ABSOLUTE negative. The one would have a right to command the military and naval forces of the nation; the other, in addition to this right, possesses that of DECLARING war, and of RAISING and REGULATING fleets and armies by his own authority. The one would have a concurrent power with a branch of the legislature in the formation of treaties; the other is the SOLE POSSESSOR of the power of making treaties. The one would have a like concurrent authority in appointing to offices; the other is the sole author of all appointments. The one can confer no privileges whatever; the other can make denizens of aliens, noblemen of commoners; can erect corporations with all the rights incident to corporate bodies. The one can prescribe no rules concerning the commerce or currency of the nation; the other is in several respects the arbiter of commerce, and in this capacity can establish markets and fairs, can regulate weights and measures, can lay embargoes for a limited time, can coin money, can authorize or prohibit the circulation of foreign coin. The one has no particle of spiritual jurisdiction; the other is the supreme head and governor of the national church! What answer shall we give to those who would persuade us that things so unlike resemble each other? The same that ought to be given to those who tell us that a government, the whole power of which would be in the hands of the elective and periodical servants of the people, is an aristocracy, a monarchy, and a despotism. PUBLIUS. 1 A writer in a Pennsylvania paper, under the signature of TAMONY, has asserted that the king of Great Britain owes his prerogative as commanderinchief to an annual mutiny bill. The truth is, on the contrary, that his prerogative, in this respect, is immemorial, and was only disputed, contrary to all reason and precedent, as Blackstone vol. i., page 262, expresses it, by the Long Parliament of Charles I. but by the statute the 13th of Charles II., chap. 6, it was declared to be in the king alone, for that the sole supreme government and command of the militia within his Majestys realms and dominions, and of all forces by sea and land, and of all forts and places of strength, EVER WAS AND IS the undoubted right of his Majesty and his royal predecessors, kings and queens of England, and that both or either house of Parliament cannot nor ought to pretend to the same. 2 Vide Blackstones Commentaries, vol i., p. 257. 3 Candor, however, demands an acknowledgment that I do not think the claim of the governor to a right of nomination well founded. Yet it is always justifiable to reason from the practice of a government, till its propriety has been constitutionally questioned. And independent of this claim, when we take into view the other considerations, and pursue them through all their consequences, we shall be inclined to draw much the same conclusion. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXX. (There are two slightly different versions of No. 70 included here.) The Executive Department Further Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 18, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: There is an idea, which is not without its advocates, that a vigorous Executive is inconsistent with the genius of republican government. The enlightened wellwishers to this species of government must at least hope that the supposition is destitute of foundation; since they can never admit its truth, without at the same time admitting the condemnation of their own principles. Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of good government. It is essential to the protection of the community against foreign attacks; it is not less essential to the steady administration of the laws; to the protection of property against those irregular and highhanded combinations which sometimes interrupt the ordinary course of justice; to the security of liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of faction, and of anarchy. Every man the least conversant in Roman story, knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of Dictator, as well against the intrigues of ambitious individuals who aspired to the tyranny, and the seditions of whole classes of the community whose conduct threatened the existence of all government, as against the invasions of external enemies who menaced the conquest and destruction of Rome. There can be no need, however, to multiply arguments or examples on this head. A feeble Executive implies a feeble execution of the government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad execution; and a government ill executed, whatever it may be in theory, must be, in practice, a bad government. Taking it for granted, therefore, that all men of sense will agree in the necessity of an energetic Executive, it will only remain to inquire, what are the ingredients which constitute this energy? How far can they be combined with those other ingredients which constitute safety in the republican sense? And how far does this combination characterize the plan which has been reported by the convention? The ingredients which constitute energy in the Executive are, first, unity; secondly, duration; thirdly, an adequate provision for its support; fourthly, competent powers. The ingredients which constitute safety in the repub lican sense are, first, a due dependence on the people, secondly, a due responsibility. Those politicians and statesmen who have been the most celebrated for the soundness of their principles and for the justice of their views, have declared in favor of a single Executive and a numerous legislature. They have with great propriety, considered energy as the most necessary qualification of the former, and have regarded this as most applicable to power in a single hand, while they have, with equal propriety, considered the latter as best adapted to deliberation and wisdom, and best calculated to conciliate the confidence of the people and to secure their privileges and interests. That unity is conducive to energy will not be disputed. Decision, activity, secrecy, and despatch will generally characterize the proceedings of one man in a much more eminent degree than the proceedings of any greater number; and in proportion as the number is increased, these qualities will be diminished. This unity may be destroyed in two ways: either by vesting the power in two or more magistrates of equal dignity and authority; or by vesting it ostensibly in one man, subject, in whole or in part, to the control and cooperation of others, in the capacity of counsellors to him. Of the first, the two Consuls of Rome may serve as an example; of the last, we shall find examples in the constitutions of several of the States. New York and New Jersey, if I recollect right, are the only States which have intrusted the executive authority wholly to single men.1 Both these methods of destroying the unity of the Executive have their partisans; but the votaries of an executive council are the most numerous. They are both liable, if not to equal, to similar objections, and may in most lights be examined in conjunction. The experience of other nations will afford little instruction on this head. As far, however, as it teaches any thing, it teaches us not to be enamoured of plurality in the Executive. We have seen that the Achaeans, on an experiment of two Praetors, were induced to abolish one. The Roman history records many instances of mischiefs to the republic from the dissensions between the Consuls, and between the military Tribunes, who were at times substituted for the Consuls. But it gives us no specimens of any peculiar advantages derived to the state from the circumstance of the plurality of those magistrates. That the dissensions between them were not more frequent or more fatal, is a matter of astonishment, until we advert to the singular position in which the republic was almost continually placed, and to the prudent policy pointed out by the circumstances of the state, and pursued by the Consuls, of making a division of the government between them. The patricians engaged in a perpetual struggle with the plebeians for the preservation of their ancient authorities and dignities; the Consuls, who were generally chosen out of the former body, were commonly united by the personal interest they had in the defense of the privileges of their order. In addition to this motive of union, after the arms of the republic had considerably expanded the bounds of its empire, it became an established custom with the Consuls to divide the administration between themselves by lot one of them remaining at Rome to govern the city and its environs, the other taking the command in the more distant provinces. This expedient must, no doubt, have had great influence in preventing those collisions and rivalships which might otherwise have embroiled the peace of the republic. But quitting the dim light of historical research, attaching ourselves purely to the dictates of reason and good sense, we shall discover much greater cause to reject than to approve the idea of plurality in the Executive, under any modification whatever. Wherever two or more persons are engaged in any common enterprise or pursuit, there is always danger of difference of opinion. If it be a public trust or office, in which they are clothed with equal dignity and authority, there is peculiar danger of personal emulation and even animosity. From either, and especially from all these causes, the most bitter dissensions are apt to spring. Whenever these happen, they lessen the respectability, weaken the authority, and distract the plans and operation of those whom they divide. If they should unfortunately assail the supreme executive magistracy of a country, consisting of a plurality of persons, they might impede or frustrate the most important measures of the government, in the most critical emergencies of the state. And what is still worse, they might split the community into the most violent and irreconcilable factions, adhering differently to the different individuals who composed the magistracy. Men often oppose a thing, merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike. But if they have been consulted, and have happened to disapprove, opposition then becomes, in their estimation, an indispensable duty of selflove. They seem to think themselves bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their sentiments. Men of upright, benevolent tempers have too many opportunities of remarking, with horror, to what desperate lengths this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, and to the obstinacy of individuals, who have credit enough to make their passions and their caprices interesting to mankind. Perhaps the question now before the public may, in its consequences, afford melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or rather detestable vice, in the human character. Upon the principles of a free government, inconveniences from the source just mentioned must necessarily be submitted to in the formation of the legislature; but it is unnecessary, and therefore unwise, to introduce them into the constitution of the Executive. It is here too that they may be most pernicious. In the legislature, promptitude of decision is oftener an evil than a benefit. The differences of opinion, and the jarrings of parties in that department of the government, though they may sometimes obstruct salutary plans, yet often promote deliberation and circumspection, and serve to check excesses in the majority. When a resolution too is once taken, the opposition must be at an end. That resolution is a law, and resistance to it punishable. But no favorable circumstances palliate or atone for the disadvantages of dissension in the executive department. Here, they are pure and unmixed. There is no point at which they cease to operate. They serve to embarrass and weaken the execution of the plan or measure to which they relate, from the first step to the final conclusion of it. They constantly counteract those qualities in the Executive which are the most necessary ingredients in its composition, vigor and expedition, and this without anycounterbalancing good. In the conduct of war, in which the energy of the Executive is the bulwark of the national security, every thing would be to be apprehended from its plurality. It must be confessed that these observations apply with principal weight to the first case supposed that is, to a plurality of magistrates of equal dignity and authority a scheme, the advocates for which are not likely to form a numerous sect; but they apply, though not with equal, yet with considerable weight to the project of a council, whose concurrence is made constitutionally necessary to the operations of the ostensible Executive. An artful cabal in that council would be able to distract and to enervate the whole system of administration. If no such cabal should exist, the mere diversity of views and opinions would alone be sufficient to tincture the exercise of the executive authority with a spirit of habitual feebleness and dilatoriness. But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. Responsibility is of two kinds to censure and to punishment. The first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable. I was overruled by my council. The council were so divided in their opinions that it was impossible to obtain any better resolution on the point. These and similar pretexts are constantly at hand, whether true or false. And who is there that will either take the trouble or incur the odium, of a strict scrunity into the secret springs of the transaction? Should there be found a citizen zealous enough to undertake the unpromising task, if there happen to be collusion between the parties concerned, how easy it is to clothe the circumstances with so much ambiguity, as to render it uncertain what was the precise conduct of any of those parties? In the single instance in which the governor of this State is coupled with a council that is, in the appointment to offices, we have seen the mischiefs of it in the view now under consideration. Scandalous appointments to important offices have been made. Some cases, indeed, have been so flagrant that ALL PARTIES have agreed in the impropriety of the thing. When inquiry has been made, the blame has been laid by the governor on the members of the council, who, on their part, have charged it upon his nomination; while the people remain altogether at a loss to determine, by whose influence their interests have been committed to hands so unqualified and so manifestly improper. In tenderness to individuals, I forbear to descend to particulars. It is evident from these considerations, that the plurality of the Executive tends to deprive the people of the two greatest securities they can have for the faithful exercise of any delegated power, first, the restraints of public opinion, which lose their efficacy, as well on account of the division of the censure attendant on bad measures among a number, as on account of the uncertainty on whom it ought to fall; and, secondly, the opportunity of discovering with facility and clearness the misconduct of the persons they trust, in order either to their removal from office or to their actual punishment in cases which admit of it. In England, the king is a perpetual magistrate; and it is a maxim which has obtained for the sake of the pub lic peace, that he is unaccountable for his administration, and his person sacred. Nothing, therefore, can be wiser in that kingdom, than to annex to the king a constitutional council, who may be responsible to the nation for the advice they give. Without this, there would be no responsibility whatever in the executive department an idea inadmissible in a free government. But even there the king is not bound by the resolutions of his council, though they are answerable for the advice they give. He is the absolute master of his own conduct in the exercise of his office, and may observe or disregard the counsel given to him at his sole discretion. But in a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally responsible for his behavior in office the reason which in the British Constitution dictates the propriety of a council, not only ceases to apply, but turns against the institution. In the monarchy of Great Britain, it furnishes a substitute for the prohibited responsibility of the chief magistrate, which serves in some degree as a hostage to the national justice for his good behavior. In the American republic, it would serve to destroy, or would greatly diminish, the intended and necessary responsibility of the Chief Magistrate himself. The idea of a council to the Executive, which has so generally obtained in the State constitutions, has been derived from that maxim of republican jealousy which considers power as safer in the hands of a number of men than of a single man. If the maxim should be admitted to be applicable to the case, I should contend that the advantage on that side would not counterbalance the numerous disadvantages on the opposite side. But I do not think the rule at all applicable to the executive power. I clearly concur in opinion, in this particular, with a writer whom the celebrated Junius pronounces to be deep, solid, and ingenious, that the executive power is more easily confined when it is ONE;2 that it is far more safe there should be a single object for the jealousy and watchfulness of the people; and, in a word, that all multiplication of the Executive is rather dangerous than friendly to liberty. A little consideration will satisfy us, that the species of security sought for in the multiplication of the Executive, is nattainable. Numbers must be so great as to render combination difficult, or they are rather a source of danger than of security. The united credit and influence of several individuals must be more formidable to liberty, than the credit and influence of either of them separately. When power, therefore, is placed in the hands of so small a number of men, as to admit of their interests and views being easily combined in a common enterprise, by an artful leader, it becomes more liable to abuse, and more dangerous when abused, than if it be lodged in the hands of one man; who, from the very circumstance of his being alone, will be more narrowly watched and more readily suspected, and who cannot unite so great a mass of influence as when he is associated with others. The Decemvirs of Rome, whose name denotes their number,3 were more to be dreaded in their usurpation than any ONE of them would have been. No person would think of proposing an Executive much more numerous than that body; from six to a dozen have been suggested for the number of the council. The extreme of these numbers, is not too great for an easy combination; and from such a combination America would have more to fear, than from the ambition of any single individual. A council to a magistrate, who is himself responsible for what he does, are generally nothing better than a clog upon his good intentions, are often the instruments and accomplices of his bad and are almost always a cloak to his faults. I forbear to dwell upon the subject of expense; though it be evident that if the council should be numerous enough to answer the principal end aimed at by the institution, the salaries of the members, who must be drawn from their homes to reside at the seat of government, would form an item in the catalogue of public expenditures too serious to be incurred for an object of equivocal utility. I will only add that, prior to the appearance of the Constitution, I rarely met with an intelligent man from any of the States, who did not admit, as the result of experience, that the UNITY of the executive of this State was one of the best of the distinguishing features of our constitution. PUBLIUS. 1 New York has no council except for the single purpose of appointing to offices; New Jersey has a council whom the governor may consult. But I think, from the terms of the constitution, their resolutions do not bind him. 2 De Lolme. 3 Ten. There are two slightly different versions of No. 70 included here. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXX. The Executive Department Further Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 18, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: There is an idea, which is not without its advocates, that a vigorous Executive is inconsistent with the genius of republican government. The enlightened wellwishers to this species of government must at least hope that the supposition is destitute of foundation; since they can never admit its truth, without at the same time admitting the condemnation of their own principles. Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of good government. It is essential to the protection of the community against foreign attacks; it is not less essential to the steady administration of the laws; to the protection of property against those irregular and highhanded combinations which sometimes interrupt the ordinary course of justice; to the security of liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of faction, and of anarchy. Every man the least conversant in Roman story, knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of Dictator, as well against the intrigues of ambitious individuals who aspired to the tyranny, and the seditions of whole classes of the community whose conduct threatened the existence of all government, as against the invasions of external enemies who menaced the conquest and destruction of Rome. There can be no need, however, to multiply arguments or examples on this head. A feeble Executive implies a feeble execution of the government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad execution; and a government ill executed, whatever it may be in theory, must be, in practice, a bad government. Taking it for granted, therefore, that all men of sense will agree in the necessity of an energetic Executive, it will only remain to inquire, what are the ingredients which constitute this energy? How far can they be combined with those other ingredients which constitute safety in the republican sense? And how far does this combination characterize the plan which has been reported by the convention? The ingredients which constitute energy in the Executive are, first, unity; secondly, duration; thirdly, an adequate provision for its support; fourthly, competent powers. The ingredients which constitute safety in the repub lican sense are, first, a due dependence on the people, secondly, a due responsibility. Those politicians and statesmen who have been the most celebrated for the soundness of their principles and for the justice of their views, have declared in favor of a single Executive and a numerous legislature. They have with great propriety, considered energy as the most necessary qualification of the former, and have regarded this as most applicable to power in a single hand, while they have, with equal propriety, considered the latter as best adapted to deliberation and wisdom, and best calculated to conciliate the confidence of the people and to secure their privileges and interests. That unity is conducive to energy will not be disputed. Decision, activity, secrecy, and despatch will generally characterize the proceedings of one man in a much more eminent degree than the proceedings of any greater number; and in proportion as the number is increased, these qualities will be diminished. This unity may be destroyed in two ways: either by vesting the power in two or more magistrates of equal dignity and authority; or by vesting it ostensibly in one man, subject, in whole or in part, to the control and cooperation of others, in the capacity of counsellors to him. Of the first, the two Consuls of Rome may serve as an example; of the last, we shall find examples in the constitutions of several of the States. New York and New Jersey, if I recollect right, are the only States which have intrusted the executive authority wholly to single men.1 Both these methods of destroying the unity of the Executive have their partisans; but the votaries of an executive council are the most numerous. They are both liable, if not to equal, to similar objections, and may in most lights be examined in conjunction. The experience of other nations will afford little instruction on this head. As far, however, as it teaches any thing, it teaches us not to be enamoured of plurality in the Executive. We have seen that the Achaeans, on an experiment of two Praetors, were induced to abolish one. The Roman history records many instances of mischiefs to the republic from the dissensions between the Consuls, and between the military Tribunes, who were at times substituted for the Consuls. But it gives us no specimens of any peculiar advantages derived to the state from the circumstance of the plurality of those magistrates. That the dissensions between them were not more frequent or more fatal, is a matter of astonishment, until we advert to the singular position in which the republic was almost continually placed, and to the prudent policy pointed out by the circumstances of the state, and pursued by the Consuls, of making a division of the government between them. The patricians engaged in a perpetual struggle with the plebeians for the preservation of their ancient authorities and dignities; the Consuls, who were generally chosen out of the former body, were commonly united by the personal interest they had in the defense of the privileges of their order. In addition to this motive of union, after the arms of the republic had considerably expanded the bounds of its empire, it became an established custom with the Consuls to divide the administration between themselves by lot one of them remaining at Rome to govern the city and its environs, the other taking the command in the more distant provinces. This expedient must, no doubt, have had great influence in preventing those collisions and rivalships which might otherwise have embroiled the peace of the republic. But quitting the dim light of historical research, attaching ourselves purely to the dictates of reason and good se se, we shall discover much greater cause to reject than to approve the idea of plurality in the Executive, under any modification whatever. Wherever two or more persons are engaged in any common enterprise or pursuit, there is always danger of difference of opinion. If it be a public trust or office, in which they are clothed with equal dignity and authority, there is peculiar danger of personal emulation and even animosity. From either, and especially from all these causes, the most bitter dissensions are apt to spring. Whenever these happen, they lessen the respectability, weaken the authority, and distract the plans and operation of those whom they divide. If they should unfortunately assail the supreme executive magistracy of a country, consisting of a plurality of persons, they might impede or frustrate the most important measures of the government, in the most critical emergencies of the state. And what is still worse, they might split the community into the most violent and irreconcilable factions, adhering differently to the different individuals who composed the magistracy. Men often oppose a thing, merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike. But if they have been consulted, and have happened to disapprove, opposition then becomes, in their estimation, an indispensable duty of selflove. They seem to think themselves bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their sentiments. Men of upright, benevolent tempers have too many opportunities of remarking, with horror, to what desperate lengths this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, and to the obstinacy of individuals, who have credit enough to make their passions and their caprices interesting to mankind. Perhaps the question now before the public may, in its consequences, afford melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or rather detestable vice, in the human character. Upon the principles of a free government, inconveniences from the source just mentioned must necessarily be submitted to in the formation of the legislature; but it is unnecessary, and therefore unwise, to introduce them into the constitution of the Executive. It is here too that they may be most pernicious. In the legislature, promptitude of decision is oftener an evil than a benefit. The differences of opinion, and the jarrings of parties in that department of the government, though they may sometimes obstruct salutary plans, yet often promote deliberation and circumspection, and serve to check excesses in the majority. When a resolution too is once taken, the opposition must be at an end. That resolution is a law, and resistance to it punishable. But no favorable circumstances palliate or atone for the disadvantages of dissension in the executive department. Here, they are pure and unmixed. There is no point at which they cease to operate. They serve to embarrass and weaken the execution of the plan or measure to which they relate, from the first step to the final conclusion of it. They constantly counteract those qualities in the Executive which are the most necessary ingredients in its composition, vigor and expedition, and this without anycounterbalancing good. In the conduct of war, in which the energy of the Executive is the bulwark of the national security, every thing would be to be apprehended from its plurality. It must be confessed that these observations apply with principal weight to the first case supposed that is, to a plurality of magistrates of equal dignity and authority a scheme, the advocates for which are not likely to form a numerous sect; but they apply, though not with equal, yet with considerable weight to the project of a council, whose concurrence is made constitutionally necessary to the operations of the ostensible Executive. An artful cabal in that council would be able to distract and to enervate the whole system of administration. If no such cabal should exist, the mere diversity of views and opinions would alone be sufficient to tincture the exercise of the executive authority with a spirit of habitual feebleness and dilatoriness. But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. Responsibility is of two kinds to censure and to punishment. The first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable. I was overruled by my council. The council were so divided in their opinions that it was impossible to obtain any better resolution on the point. These and similar pretexts are constantly at hand, whether true or false. And who is there that will either take the trouble or incur the odium, of a strict scrunity into the secret springs of the transaction? Should there be found a citizen zealous enough to undertake the unpromising task, if there happen to be collusion between the parties concerned, how easy it is to clothe the circumstances with so much ambiguity, as to render it uncertain what was the precise conduct of any of those parties? In the single instance in which the governor of this State is coupled with a council that is, in the appointment to offices, we have seen the mischiefs of it in the view now under consideration. Scandalous appointments to important offices have been made. Some cases, indeed, have been so flagrant that ALL PARTIES have agreed in the impropriety of the thing. When inquiry has been made, the blame has been laid by the governor on the members of the council, who, on their part, have charged it upon his nomination; while the people remain altogether at a loss to determine, by whose influence their interests have been committed to hands so unqualified and so manifestly improper. In tenderness to individuals, I forbear to descend to particulars. It is evident from these considerations, that the plurality of the Executive tends to deprive the people of the two greatest securities they can have for the faithful exercise of any delegated power, first, the restraints of public opinion, which lose their efficacy, as well on account of the division of the censure attendant on bad measures among a number, as on account of the uncertainty on whom it ought to fall; and, secondly, the opportunity of discovering with facility and clearness the misconduct of the persons they trust, in order either to their removal from office or to their actual punishment in cases which admit of it. In England, the king is a perpetual magistrate; and it is a maxim which has obtained for the sake of the pub lic peace, that he is unaccountable for his administration, and his person sacred. Nothing, therefore, can be wiser in that kingdom, than to annex to the king a constitutional council, who may be responsible to the nation for the advice they give. Without this, there would be no responsibility whatever in the executive department an idea inadmissible in a free government. But even there the king is not bound by the resolutions of his council, though they are answerable for the advice they give. He is the absolute master of his own conduct in the exercise of his office, and may observe or disregard the counsel given to him at his sole discretion. But in a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally responsible for his behavior in office the reason which in the British Constitution dictates the propriety of a council, not only ceases to apply, but turns against the institution. In the monarchy of Great Britain, it furnishes a substitute for the prohibited responsibility of the chief magistrate, which serves in some degree as a hostage to the national justice for his good behavior. In the American republic, it would serve to destroy, or would greatly diminish, the intended and necessary responsibility of the Chief Magistrate himself. The idea of a council to the Executive, which has so generally obtained in the State constitutions, has been derived from that maxim of republican jealousy which considers power as safer in the hands of a number of men than of a single man. If the maxim should be admitted to be applicable to the case, I should contend that the advantage on that side would not counterbalance the numerous disadvantages on the opposite side. But I do not think the rule at all applicable to the executive power. I clearly concur in opinion, in this particular, with a writer whom the celebrated Junius pronounces to be deep, solid, and ingenious, that the executive power is more easily confined when it is ONE;2 that it is far more safe there should be a single object for the jealousy and watchfulness of the people; and, in a word, that all multiplication of the Executive is rather dangerous than friendly to liberty. A little consideration will satisfy us, that the species of security sought for in the multiplication of the Executive, is nattainable. Numbers must be so great as to render combination difficult, or they are rather a source of danger than of security. The united credit and influence of several individuals must be more formidable to liberty, than the credit and influence of either of them separately. When power, therefore, is placed in the hands of so small a number of men, as to admit of their interests and views being easily combined in a common enterprise, by an artful leader, it becomes more liable to abuse, and more dangerous when abused, than if it be lodged in the hands of one man; who, from the very circumstance of his being alone, will be more narrowly watched and more readily suspected, and who cannot unite so great a mass of influence as when he is associated with others. The Decemvirs of Rome, whose name denotes their number,3 were more to be dreaded in their usurpation than any ONE of them would have been. No person would think of proposing an Executive much more numerous than that body; from six to a dozen have been suggested for the number of the council. The extreme of these numbers, is not too great for an easy combination; and from such a combination America would have more to fear, than from the ambition of any single individual. A council to a magistrate, who is himself responsible for what he does, are generally nothing better than a clog upon his good intentions, are often the instruments and accomplices of his bad and are almost always a cloak to his faults. I forbear to dwell upon the subject of expense; though it be evident that if the council should be numerous enough to answer the principal end aimed at by the institution, the salaries of the members, who must be drawn from their homes to reside at the seat of government, would form an item in the catalogue of public expenditures too serious to be incurred for an object of equivocal utility. I will only add that, prior to the appearance of the Constitution, I rarely met with an intelligent man from any of the States, who did not admit, as the result of experience, that the UNITY of the executive of this State was one of the best of the distinguishing features of our constitution. PUBLIUS. 1 New York has no council except for the single purpose of appointing to offices; New Jersey has a council whom the governor may consult. But I think, from the terms of the constitution, their resolutions do not bind him. 2 De Lolme. 3 Ten. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXI. The Duration in Office of the Executive From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 18, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Duration in office has been mentioned as the second requisite to the energy of the Executive authority. This has relation to two objects: to the personal firmness of the executive magistrate, in the employment of his constitutional powers; and to the stability of the system of administration which may have been adopted under his auspices. With regard to the first, it must be evident, that the longer the duration in office, the greater will be the probability of obtaining so important an advantage. It is a general principle of human nature, that a man will be interested in whatever he possesses, in proportion to the firmness or precariousness of the tenure by which he holds it; will be less attached to what he holds by a momentary or uncertain title, than to what he enjoys by a durable or certain title; and, of course, will be willing to risk more for the sake of the one, than for the sake of the other. This remark is not less applicable to a political privilege, or honor, or trust, than to any article of ordinary property. The inference from it is, that a man acting in the capacity of chief magistrate, under a consciousness that in a very short time he MUST lay down his office, will be apt to feel himself too little interested in it to hazard any material censure or perplexity, from the independent exertion of his powers, or from encountering the illhumors, however transient, which may happen to prevail, either in a considerable part of the society itself, or even in a predominant faction in the legislative body. If the case should only be, that he MIGHT lay it down, unless continued by a new choice, and if he should be desirous of being continued, his wishes, conspiring with his fears, would tend still more powerfully to corrupt his integrity, or debase his fortitude. In either case, feebleness and irresolution must be the characteristics of the station. There are some who would be inclined to regard the servile pliancy of the Executive to a prevailing current, either in the community or in the legislature, as its best recommendation. But such men entertain very crude notions, as well of the purposes for which government was instituted, as of the true means by which the public happiness may be promoted. The republican principle demands that the deliberate sense of the community should govern the conduct of those to whom they intrust the management of their affairs; but it does not require an unqualified complaisance to every sudden breeze of passion, or to every transient impulse which the people may receive from the arts of men, who flatter their prejudices to betray their interests. It is a just observation, that the people commonly INTEND the PUBLIC GOOD. This often applies to their very errors. But their good sense would despise the adulator who should pretend that they always REASON RIGHT about the MEANS of promoting it. They know from experience that they sometimes err; and the wonder is that they so seldom err as they do, beset, as they continually are, by the wiles of parasites and sycophants, by the snares of the ambitious, the avaricious, the desperate, by the artifices of men who possess their confidence more than they deserve it, and of those who seek to possess rather than to deserve it. When occasions present themselves, in which the interests of the people are at variance with their inclinations, it is the duty of the persons whom they have appointed to be the guardians of those interests, to withstand the temporary delusion, in order to give them time and opportunity for more cool and sedate reflection. Instances might be cited in which a conduct of this kind has saved the people from very fatal consequences of their own mistakes, and has procured lasting monuments of their gratitude to the men who had courage and magnanimity enough to serve them at the peril of their displeasure. But however inclined we might be to insist upon an unbounded complaisance in the Executive to the inclinations of the people, we can with no propriety contend for a like complaisance to the humors of the legislature. The latter may sometimes stand in opposition to the former, and at other times the people may be entirely neutral. In either supposition, it is certainly desirable that the Executive should be in a situation to dare to act his own opinion with vigor and decision. The same rule which teaches the propriety of a partition between the various branches of power, teaches us likewise that this partition ought to be so contrived as to render the one independent of the other. To what purpose separate the executive or the judiciary from the legislative, if both the executive and the judiciary are so constituted as to be at the absolute devotion of the legislative? Such a separation must be merely nominal, and incapable of producing the ends for which it was established. It is one thing to be subordinate to the laws, and another to be dependent on the legislative body. The first comports with, the last violates, the fundamental principles of good government; and, whatever may be the forms of the Constitution, unites all power in the same hands. The tendency of the legislative authority to absorb every other, has been fully displayed and illustrated by examples in some preceding numbers. In governments purely republican, this tendency is almost irresistible. The representatives of the people, in a popular assembly, seem sometimes to fancy that they are the people themselves, and betray strong symptoms of impatience and disgust at the least sign of opposition from any other quarter; as if the exercise of its rights, by either the executive or judiciary, were a breach of their privilege and an outrage to their dignity. They often appear disposed to exert an imperious control over the other departments; and as they commonly have the people on their side, they always act with such momentum as to make it very difficult for the other members of the government to maintain the balance of the Constitution. It may perhaps be asked, how the shortness of the duration in office can affect the independence of the Executive on the legislature, unless the one were possessed of the power of appointing or displacing the other. One answer to this inquiry may be drawn from the principle already remarked that is, from the slender interest a man is apt to take in a shortlived advantage, and the little inducement it affords him to expose himself, on account of it, to any considerable inconvenience or hazard. Another answer, perhaps more obvious, though not more conclusive, will result from the consideration of the influence of the legislative body over the people; which might be employed to prevent the reelection of a man who, by an upright resistance to any sinister project of that body, should have made himself obnoxious to its resentment. It may be asked also, whether a duration of four years would answer the end proposed; and if it would not, whether a less period, which would at least be recommended by greater security against ambitious designs, would not, for that reason, be preferable to a longer period, which was, at the same time, too short for the purpose of inspiring the desired firmness and independence of the magistrate. It cannot be affirmed, that a duration of four years, or any other limited duration, would completely answer the end proposed; but it would contribute towards it in a degree which would have a material influence upon the spirit and character of the government. Between the commencement and termination of such a period, there would always be a considerable interval, in which the prospect of annihilation would be sufficiently remote, not to have an improper effect upon the conduct of a man indued with a tolerable portion of fortitude; and in which he might reasonably promise himself, that there would be time enough before it arrived, to make the community sensible of the propriety of the measures he might incline to pursue. Though it be probable that, as he approached the moment when the public were, by a new election, to signify their sense of his conduct, his confidence, and with it his firmness, would decline; yet both the one and the other would derive support from the opportunities which his previous continuance in the station had afforded him, of establishing himself in the esteem and goodwill of his constituents. He might, then, hazard with safety, in proportion to the proofs he had given of his wisdom and integrity, and to the title he had acquired to the respect and attachment of his fellowcitizens. As, on the one hand, a duration of four years will contribute to the firmness of the Executive in a sufficient degree to render it a very valuable ingredient in the composition; so, on the other, it is not enough to justify any alarm for the public liberty. If a British House of Commons, from the most feeble beginnings, FROM THE MERE POWER OF ASSENTING OR DISAGREEING TO THE IMPOSITION OF A NEW TAX, have, by rapid strides, reduced the prerogatives of the crown and the privileges of the nobility within the limits they conceived to be compatible with the principles of a free government, while they raised themselves to the rank and consequence of a coequal branch of the legislature; if they have been able, in one instance, to abolish both the royalty and the aristocracy, and to overturn all the ancient establishments, as well in the Church as State; if they have been able, on a recent occasion, to make the monarch tremble at the prospect of an innovation1 attempted by them, what would be to be feared from an elective magistrate of four years duration, with the confined authorities of a President of the United States? What, but that he might be unequal to the task which the Constitution assigns him? I shall only add, that if his duration be such as to leave a doubt of his firmness, that doubt is inconsistent with a jealousy of his encroachments. PUBLIUS. 1 This was the case with respect to Mr. Foxs India bill, which was carried in the House of Commons, and rejected in the House of Lords, to the entire satisfaction, as it is said, of the people. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXII. The Same Subject Continued, and ReEligibility of the Executive Considered From the New York Packet. Friday, March 21, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The administration of government, in its largest sense, comprehends all the operations of the body politic, whether legislative, executive, or judiciary; but in its most usual, and perhaps its most precise signification. It is limited to executive details, and falls peculiarly within the province of the executive department. The actual conduct of foreign negotiations, the preparatory plans of finance, the application and disbursement of the public moneys in conformity to the general appropriations of the legislature, the arrangement of the army and navy, the directions of the operations of war, these, and other matters of a like nature, constitute what seems to be most properly understood by the administration of government. The persons, therefore, to whose immediate management these different matters are committed, ought to be considered as the assistants or deputies of the chief magistrate, and on this account, they ought to derive their offices from his appointment, at least from his nomination, and ought to be subject to his superintendence. This view of the subject will at once suggest to us the intimate connection between the duration of the executive magistrate in office and the stability of the system of administration. To reverse and undo what has been done by a predecessor, is very often considered by a successor as the best proof he can give of his own capacity and desert; and in addition to this propensity, where the alteration has been the result of public choice, the person substituted is warranted in supposing that the dismission of his predecessor has proceeded from a dislike to his measures; and that the less he resembles him, the more he will recommend himself to the favor of his constituents. These considerations, and the influence of personal confidences and attachments, would be likely to induce every new President to promote a change of men to fill the subordinate stations; and these causes together could not fail to occasion a disgraceful and ruinous mutability in the administration of the government. With a positive duration of considerable extent, I connect the circumstance of reeligibility. The first is necessary to give to the officer himself the inclination and the resolution to act his part well, and to the community time and leisure to observe the tendency of his measures, and thence to form an experimental estimate of their merits. The last is necessary to enable the people, when they see reason to approve of his conduct, to continue him in his station, in order to prolong the utility of his talents and virtues, and to secure to the government the advantage of permanency in a wise system of administration. Nothing appears more plausible at first sight, nor more illfounded upon close inspection, than a scheme which in relation to the present point has had some respectable advocates, I mean that of continuing the chief magistrate in office for a certain time, and then excluding him from it, either for a limited period or forever after. This exclusion, whether temporary or perpetual, would have nearly the same effects, and these effects would be for the most part rather pernicious than salutary. One ill effect of the exclusion would be a diminution of the inducements to good behavior. There are few men who would not feel much less zeal in the discharge of a duty when they were conscious that the advantages of the station with which it was connected must be relinquished at a determinate period, than when they were permitted to entertain a hope of OBTAINING, by MERITING, a continuance of them. This position will not be disputed so long as it is admitted that the desire of reward is one of the strongest incentives of human conduct; or that the best security for the fidelity of mankind is to make their interests coincide with their duty. Even the love of fame, the ruling passion of the noblest minds, which would prompt a man to plan and undertake extensive and arduous enterprises for the public benefit, requiring considerable time to mature and perfect them, if he could flatter himself with the prospect of being allowed to finish what he had begun, would, on the contrary, deter him from the undertaking, when he foresaw that he must quit the scene before he could accomplish the work, and must commit that, together with his own reputation, to hands which might be unequal or unfriendly to the task. The most to be expected from the generality of men, in such a situation, is the negative merit of not doing harm, instead of the positive merit of doing good. Another ill effect of the exclusion would be the temptation to sordid views, to peculation, and, in some instances, to usurpation. An avaricious man, who might happen to fill the office, looking forward to a time when he must at all events yield up the emoluments he enjoyed, would feel a propensity, not easy to be resisted by such a man, to make the best use of the opportunity he enjoyed while it lasted, and might not scruple to have recourse to the most corrupt expedients to make the harvest as abundant as it was transitory; though the same man, probably, with a different prospect before him, might content himself with the regular perquisites of his situation, and might even be unwilling to risk the consequences of an abuse of his opportunities. His avarice might be a guard upon his avarice. Add to this that the same man might be vain or ambitious, as well as avaricious. And if he could expect to prolong his honors by his good conduct, he might hesitate to sacrifice his appetite for them to his appetite for gain. But with the prospect before him of approaching an inevitable annihilation, his avarice would be likely to get the victory over his caution, his vanity, or his ambition. An ambitious man, too, when he found himself seated on the summit of his countrys honors, when he looked forward to the time at which he must descend from the exalted eminence for ever, and reflected that no exertion of merit on his part could save him from the unwelcome reverse; such a man, in such a situation, would be much more violently tempted to embrace a favorable conjuncture for attempting the prolongation of his power, at every personal hazard, than if he had the probability of answering the same end by doing his duty. Would it promote the peace of the community, or the stability of the government to have half a dozen men who had had credit enough to be raised to the seat of the supreme magistracy, wandering among the people like discontented ghosts, and sighing for a place which they were destined never more to possess? A third ill effect of the exclusion would be, the depriving the community of the advantage of the experience gained by the chief magistrate in the exercise of his office. That experience is the parent of wisdom, is an adage the truth of which is recognized by the wisest as well as the simplest of mankind. What more desirable or more essential than this quality in the governors of nations? Where more desirable or more essential than in the first magistrate of a nation? Can it be wise to put this desirable and essential quality under the ban of the Constitution, and to declare that the moment it is acquired, its possessor shall be compelled to abandon the station in which it was acquired, and to which it is adapted? This, nevertheless, is the precise import of all those regulations which exclude men from serving their country, by the choice of their fellowcitizens, after they have by a course of service fitted themselves for doing it with a greater degree of utility. A fourth ill effect of the exclusion would be the banishing men from stations in which, in certain emergencies of the state, their presence might be of the greatest moment to the public interest or safety. There is no nation which has not, at one period or another, experienced an absolute necessity of the services of particular men in particular situations; perhaps it would not be too strong to say, to the preservation of its political existence. How unwise, therefore, must be every such selfdenying ordinance as serves to prohibit a nation from making use of its own citizens in the manner best suited to its exigencies and circumstances! Without supposing the personal essentiality of the man, it is evident that a change of the chief magistrate, at the breaking out of a war, or at any similar crisis, for another, even of equal merit, would at all times be detrimental to the community, inasmuch as it would substitute inexperience to experience, and would tend to unhinge and set afloat the already settled train of the administration. A fifth ill effect of the exclusion would be, that it would operate as a constitutional interdiction of stability in the administration. By NECESSITATING a change of men, in the first office of the nation, it would necessitate a mutability of measures. It is not generally to be expected, that men will vary and measures remain uniform. The contrary is the usual course of things. And we need not be apprehensive that there will be too much stability, while there is even the option of changing; nor need we desire to prohibit the people from continuing their confidence where they think it may be safely placed, and where, by constancy on their part, they may obviate the fatal inconveniences of fluctuating councils and a variable policy. These are some of the disadvantages which would flow from the principle of exclusion. They apply most forcibly to the scheme of a perpetual exclusion; but when we consider that even a partial exclusion would always render the readmission of the person a remote and precarious object, the observations which have been made will apply nearly as fully to one case as to the other. What are the advantages promised to counterbalance these disadvantages? They are represented to be: 1st, greater independence in the magistrate; 2d, greater security to the people. Unless the exclusion be perpetual, there will be no pretense to infer the first advantage. But even in that case, may he have no object beyond his present station, to which he may sacrifice his independence? May he have no connections, no friends, for whom he may sacrifice it? May he not be less willing by a firm conduct, to make personal enemies, when he acts under the impression that a time is fast approaching, on the arrival of which he not only MAY, but MUST, be exposed to their resentments, upon an equal, perhaps upon an inferior, footing? It is not an easy point to determine whether his independence would be most promoted or impaired by such an arrangement. As to the second supposed advantage, there is still greater reason to entertain doubts concerning it. If the exclusion were to be perpetual, a man of irregular ambition, of whom alone there could be reason in any case to entertain apprehension, would, with infinite reluctance, yield to the necessity of taking his leave forever of a post in which his passion for power and preeminence had acquired the force of habit. And if he had been fortunate or adroit enough to conciliate the goodwill of the people, he might induce them to consider as a very odious and unjustifiable restraint upon themselves, a provision which was calculated to debar them of the right of giving a fresh proof of their attachment to a favorite. There may be conceived circumstances in which this disgust of the people, seconding the thwarted ambition of such a favorite, might occasion greater danger to liberty, than could ever reasonably be dreaded from the possibility of a perpetuation in office, by the voluntary suffrages of the community, exercising a constitutional privilege. There is an excess of refinement in the idea of disabling the people to continue in office men who had entitled themselves, in their opinion, to approbation and confidence; the advantages of which are at best speculative and equivocal, and are overbalanced by disadvantages far more certain and decisive. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXIII. The Provision For The Support of the Executive, and the Veto Power From the New York Packet. Friday, March 21, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The third ingredient towards constituting the vigor of the executive authority, is an adequate provision for its support. It is evident that, without proper attention to this article, the separation of the executive from the legislative department would be merely nominal and nugatory. The legislature, with a discretionary power over the salary and emoluments of the Chief Magistrate, could render him as obsequious to their will as they might think proper to make him. They might, in most cases, either reduce him by famine, or tempt him by largesses, to surrender at discretion his judgment to their inclinations. These expressions, taken in all the latitude of the terms, would no doubt convey more than is intended. There are men who could neither be distressed nor won into a sacrifice of their duty; but this stern virtue is the growth of few soils; and in the main it will be found that a power over a mans support is a power over his will. If it were necessary to confirm so plain a truth by facts, examples would not be wanting, even in this country, of the intimidation or seduction of the Executive by the terrors or allurements of the pecuniary arrangements of the legislative body. It is not easy, therefore, to commend too highly the judicious attention which has been paid to this subject in the proposed Constitution. It is there provided that The President of the United States shall, at stated times, receive for his services a compensation WHICH SHALL NEITHER BE INCREASED NOR DIMINISHED DURING THE PERIOD FOR WHICH HE SHALL HAVE BEEN ELECTED; and he SHALL NOT RECEIVE WITHIN THAT PERIOD ANY OTHER EMOLUMENT from the United States, or any of them. It is impossible to imagine any provision which would have been more eligible than this. The legislature, on the appointment of a President, is once for all to declare what shall be the compensation for his services during the time for which he shall have been elected. This done, they will have no power to alter it, either by increase or diminution, till a new period of service by a new election commences. They can neither weaken his fortitude by operating on his necessities, nor corrupt his integrity by appealing to his avarice. Neither the Union, nor any of its members, will be at liberty to give, nor will he be at liberty to receive, any other emolument than that which may have been determined by the first act. He can, of course, have no pecuniary inducement to renounce or desert the independence intended for him by the Constitution. The last of the requisites to energy, which have been enumerated, are competent powers. Let us proceed to consider those which are proposed to be vested in the President of the United States. The first thing that offers itself to our observation, is the qualified negative of the President upon the acts or resolutions of the two houses of the legislature; or, in other words, his power of returning all bills with objections, to have the effect of preventing their becoming laws, unless they should afterwards be ratified by two thirds of each of the component members of the legislative body. The propensity of the legislative department to intrude upon the rights, and to absorb the powers, of the other departments, has been already suggested and repeated; the insufficiency of a mere parchment delineation of the boundaries of each, has also been remarked upon; and the necessity of furnishing each with constitutional arms for its own defense, has been inferred and proved. From these clear and indubitable principles results the propriety of a negative, either absolute or qualified, in the Executive, upon the acts of the legislative branches. Without the one or the other, the former would be absolutely unable to defend himself against the depredations of the latter. He might gradually be stripped of his authorities by successive resolutions, or annihilated by a single vote. And in the one mode or the other, the legislative and executive powers might speedily come to be blended in the same hands. If even no propensity had ever discovered itself in the legislative body to invade the rights of the Executive, the rules of just reasoning and theoretic propriety would of themselves teach us, that the one ought not to be left to the mercy of the other, but ought to possess a constitutional and effectual power of selfdefense. But the power in question has a further use. It not only serves as a shield to the Executive, but it furnishes an additional security against the enaction of improper laws. It establishes a salutary check upon the legislative body, calculated to guard the community against the effects of faction, precipitancy, or of any impulse unfriendly to the public good, which may happen to influence a majority of that body. The propriety of a negative has, upon some occasions, been combated by an observation, that it was not to be presumed a single man would possess more virtue and wisdom than a number of men; and that unless this presumption should be entertained, it would be improper to give the executive magistrate any species of control over the legislative body. But this observation, when examined, will appear rather specious than solid. The propriety of the thing does not turn upon the supposition of superior wisdom or virtue in the Executive, but upon the supposition that the legislature will not be infallible; that the love of power may sometimes betray it into a disposition to encroach upon the rights of other members of the government; that a spirit of faction may sometimes pervert its deliberations; that impressions of the moment may sometimes hurry it into measures which itself, on maturer reflexion, would condemn. The primary inducement to conferring the power in question upon the Executive is, to enable him to defend himself; the secondary one is to increase the chances in favor of the community against the passing of bad laws, through haste, inadvertence, or design. The oftener the measure is brought under examination, the greater the diversity in the situations of those who are to examine it, the less must be the danger of those errors which flow from want of due deliberation, or of those missteps which proceed from the contagion of some common passion or interest. It is far less probable, that culpable views of any kind should infect all the parts of the government at the same moment and in relation to the same object, than that they should by turns govern and mislead every one of them. It may perhaps be said that the power of preventing bad laws includes that of preventing good ones; and may be used to the one purpose as well as to the other. But this objection will have little weight with those who can properly estimate the mischiefs of that inconstancy and mutability in the laws, which form the greatest blemish in the character and genius of our governments. They will consider every institution calculated to restrain the excess of lawmaking, and to keep things in the same state in which they happen to be at any given period, as much more likely to do good than harm; because it is favorable to greater stability in the system of legislation. The injury which may possibly be done by defeating a few good laws, will be amply compensated by the advantage of preventing a number of bad ones. Nor is this all. The superior weight and influence of the legislative body in a free government, and the hazard to the Executive in a trial of strength with that body, afford a satisfactory security that the negative would generally be employed with great caution; and there would oftener be room for a charge of timidity than of rashness in the exercise of it. A king of Great Britain, with all his train of sovereign attributes, and with all the influence he draws from a thousand sources, would, at this day, hesitate to put a negative upon the joint resolutions of the two houses of Parliament. He would not fail to exert the utmost resources of that influence to strangle a measure disagreeable to him, in its progress to the throne, to avoid being reduced to the dilemma of permitting it to take effect, or of risking the displeasure of the nation by an opposition to the sense of the legislative body. Nor is it probable, that he would ultimately venture to exert his prerogatives, but in a case of manifest propriety, or extreme necessity. All wellinformed men in that kingdom will accede to the justness of this remark. A very considerable period has elapsed since the negative of the crown has been exercised. If a magistrate so powerful and so well fortified as a British monarch, would have scruples about the exercise of the power under consideration, how much greater caution may be reasonably expected in a President of the United States, clothed for the short period of four years with the executive authority of a government wholly and purely republican? It is evident that there would be greater danger of his not using his power when necessary, than of his using it too often, or too much. An argument, indeed, against its expediency, has been drawn from this very source. It has been represented, on this account, as a power odious in appearance, useless in practice. But it will not follow, that because it might be rarely exercised, it would never be exercised. In the case for which it is chiefly designed, that of an immediate attack upon the constitutional rights of the Executive, or in a case in which the public good was evidently and palpably sacrificed, a man of tolerable firmness would avail himself of his constitutional means of defense, and would listen to the admonitions of duty and responsibility. In the former supposition, his fortitude would be stimulated by his immediate interest in the power of his office; in the latter, by the probability of the sanction of his constituents, who, though they would naturally incline to the legislative body in a doubtful case, would hardly suffer their partiality to delude them in a very plain case. I speak now with an eye to a magistrate possessing only a common share of firmness. There are men who, under any circumstances, will have the courage to do their duty at every hazard. But the convention have pursued a mean in this business, which will both facilitate the exercise of the power vested in this respect in the executive magistrate, and make its efficacy to depend on the sense of a considerable part of the legislative body. Instead of an absolute negative, it is proposed to give the Executive the qualified negative already described. This is a power which would be much more readily exercised than the other. A man who might be afraid to defeat a law by his single VETO, might not scruple to return it for reconsideration; subject to being finally rejected only in the event of more than one third of each house concurring in the sufficiency of his objections. He would be encouraged by the reflection, that if his opposition should prevail, it would embark in it a very respectable proportion of the legislative body, whose influence would be united with his in supporting the propriety of his conduct in the public opinion. A direct and categorical negative has something in the appearance of it more harsh, and more apt to irritate, than the mere suggestion of argumentative objections to be approved or disapproved by those to whom they are addressed. In proportion as it would be less apt to offend, it would be more apt to be exercised; and for this very reason, it may in practice be found more effectual. It is to be hoped that it will not often happen that improper views will govern so large a proportion as two thirds of both branches of the legislature at the same time; and this, too, in spite of the counterposing weight of the Executive. It is at any rate far less probable that this should be the case, than that such views should taint the resolutions and conduct of a bare majority. A power of this nature in the Executive, will often have a silent and unperceived, though forcible, operation. When men, engaged in unjustifiable pursuits, are aware that obstructions may come from a quarter which they cannot control, they will often be restrained by the bare apprehension of opposition, from doing what they would with eagerness rush into, if no such external impediments were to be feared. This qualified negative, as has been elsewhere remarked, is in this State vested in a council, consisting of the governor, with the chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, or any two of them. It has been freely employed upon a variety of occasions, and frequently with success. And its utility has become so apparent, that persons who, in compiling the Constitution, were violent opposers of it, have from experience become its declared admirers.1 I have in another place remarked, that the convention, in the formation of this part of their plan, had departed from the model of the constitution of this State, in favor of that of Massachusetts. Two strong reasons may be imagined for this preference. One is that the judges, who are to be the interpreters of the law, might receive an improper bias, from having given a previous opinion in their revisionary capacities; the other is that by being often associated with the Executive, they might be induced to embark too far in the political views of that magistrate, and thus a dangerous combination might by degrees be cemented between the executive and judiciary departments. It is impossible to keep the judges too distinct from every other avocation than that of expounding the laws. It is peculiarly dangerous to place them in a situation to be either corrupted or influenced by the Executive. PUBLIUS. 1 Mr. Abraham Yates, a warm opponent of the plan of the convention is of this number. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXIV. The Command of the Military and Naval Forces, and the Pardoning Power of the Executive From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 25, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The President of the United States is to be commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States, and of the militia of the several States WHEN CALLED INTO THE ACTUAL SERVICE of the United States. The propriety of this provision is so evident in itself, and it is, at the same time, so consonant to the precedents of the State constitutions in general, that little need be said to explain or enforce it. Even those of them which have, in other respects, coupled the chief magistrate with a council, have for the most part concentrated the military authority in him alone. Of all the cares or concerns of government, the direction of war most peculiarly demands those qualities which distinguish the exercise of power by a single hand. The direction of war implies the direction of the common strength; and the power of directing and employing the common strength, forms a usual and essential part in the definition of the executive authority. The President may require the opinion, in writing, of the principal officer in each of the executive departments, upon any subject relating to the duties of their respective officers. This I consider as a mere redundancy in the plan, as the right for which it provides would result of itself from the office. He is also to be authorized to grant reprieves and pardons for offenses against the United States, EXCEPT IN CASES OF IMPEACHMENT. Humanity and good policy conspire to dictate, that the benign prerogative of pardoning should be as little as possible fettered or embarrassed. The criminal code of every country partakes so much of necessary severity, that without an easy access to exceptions in favor of unfortunate guilt, justice would wear a countenance too sanguinary and cruel. As the sense of responsibility is always strongest, in proportion as it is undivided, it may be inferred that a single man would be most ready to attend to the force of those motives which might plead for a mitigation of the rigor of the law, and least apt to yield to considerations which were calculated to shelter a fit object of its vengeance. The reflection that the fate of a fellowcreature depended on his sole fiat, would naturally inspire scrupulousness and caution; the dread of being accused of weakness or connivance, would beget equal circumspection, though of a different kind. On the other hand, as men generally derive confidence from their numbers, they might often encourage each other in an act of obduracy, and might be less sensible to the apprehension of suspicion or censure for an injudicious or affected clemency. On these accounts, one man appears to be a more eligible dispenser of the mercy of government, than a body of men. The expediency of vesting the power of pardoning in the President has, if I mistake not, been only contested in relation to the crime of treason. This, it has been urged, ought to have depended upon the assent of one, or both, of the branches of the legislative body. I shall not deny that there are strong reasons to be assigned for requiring in this particular the concurrence of that body, or of a part of it. As treason is a crime levelled at the immediate being of the society, when the laws have once ascertained the guilt of the offender, there seems a fitness in referring the expediency of an act of mercy towards him to the judgment of the legislature. And this ought the rather to be the case, as the supposition of the connivance of the Chief Magistrate ought not to be entirely excluded. But there are also strong objections to such a plan. It is not to be doubted, that a single man of prudence and good sense is better fitted, in delicate conjunctures, to balance the motives which may plead for and against the remission of the punishment, than any numerous body whatever. It deserves particular attention, that treason will often be connected with seditions which embrace a large proportion of the community; as lately happened in Massachusetts. In every such case, we might expect to see the representation of the people tainted with the same spirit which had given birth to the offense. And when parties were pretty equally matched, the secret sympathy of the friends and favorers of the condemned person, availing itself of the goodnature and weakness of others, might frequently bestow impunity where the terror of an example was necessary. On the other hand, when the sedition had proceeded from causes which had inflamed the resentments of the major party, they might often be found obstinate and inexorable, when policy demanded a conduct of forbearance and clemency. But the principal argument for reposing the power of pardoning in this case to the Chief Magistrate is this: in seasons of insurrection or rebellion, there are often critical moments, when a welltimed offer of pardon to the insurgents or rebels may restore the tranquillity of the commonwealth; and which, if suffered to pass unimproved, it may never be possible afterwards to recall. The dilatory process of convening the legislature, or one of its branches, for the purpose of obtaining its sanction to the measure, would frequently be the occasion of letting slip the golden opportunity. The loss of a week, a day, an hour, may sometimes be fatal. If it should be observed, that a discretionary power, with a view to such contingencies, might be occasionally conferred upon the President, it may be answered in the first place, that it is questionable, whether, in a limited Constitution, that power could be delegated by law; and in the second place, that it would generally be impolitic beforehand to take any step which might hold out the prospect of impunity. A proceeding of this kind, out of the usual course, would be likely to be construed into an argument of timidity or of weakness, and would have a tendency to embolden guilt. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXV. The TreatyMaking Power of the Executive For the Independent Journal. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The President is to have power, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the senators present concur. Though this provision has been assailed, on different grounds, with no small degree of vehemence, I scruple not to declare my firm persuasion, that it is one of the best digested and most unexceptionable parts of the plan. One ground of objection is the trite topic of the intermixture of powers; some contending that the President ought alone to possess the power of making treaties; others, that it ought to have been exclusively deposited in the Senate. Another source of objection is derived from the small number of persons by whom a treaty may be made. Of those who espouse this objection, a part are of opinion that the House of Representatives ought to have been associated in the business, while another part seem to think that nothing more was necessary than to have substituted two thirds of ALL the members of the Senate, to two thirds of the members PRESENT. As I flatter myself the observations made in a preceding number upon this part of the plan must have sufficed to place it, to a discerning eye, in a very favorable light, I shall here content myself with offering only some supplementary remarks, principally with a view to the objections which have been just stated. With regard to the intermixture of powers, I shall rely upon the explanations already given in other places, of the true sense of the rule upon which that objection is founded; and shall take it for granted, as an inference from them, that the union of the Executive with the Senate, in the article of treaties, is no infringement of that rule. I venture to add, that the particular nature of the power of making treaties indicates a peculiar propriety in that union. Though several writers on the subject of government place that power in the class of executive authorities, yet this is evidently an arbitrary disposition; for if we attend carefully to its operation, it will be found to partake more of the legislative than of the executive character, though it does not seem strictly to fall within the definition of either of them. The essence of the legislative authority is to enact laws, or, in other words, to prescribe rules for the regulation of the society; while the execution of the laws, and the employment of the common strength, either for this purpose or for the common defense, seem to comprise all the functions of the executive magistrate. The power of making treaties is, plainly, neither the one nor the other. It relates neither to the execution of the subsisting laws, nor to the enaction of new ones; and still less to an exertion of the common strength. Its objects are CONTRACTS with foreign nations, which have the force of law, but derive it from the obligations of good faith. They are not rules prescribed by the sovereign to the subject, but agreements between sovereign and sovereign. The power in question seems therefore to form a distinct department, and to belong, properly, neither to the legislative nor to the executive. The qualities elsewhere detailed as indispensable in the management of foreign negotiations, point out the Executive as the most fit agent in those transactions; while the vast importance of the trust, and the operation of treaties as laws, plead strongly for the participation of the whole or a portion of the legislative body in the office of making them. However proper or safe it may be in governments where the executive magistrate is an hereditary monarch, to commit to him the entire power of making treaties, it would be utterly unsafe and improper to intrust that power to an elective magistrate of four years duration. It has been remarked, upon another occasion, and the remark is unquestionably just, that an hereditary monarch, though often the oppressor of his people, has personally too much stake in the government to be in any material danger of being corrupted by foreign powers. But a man raised from the station of a private citizen to the rank of chief magistrate, possessed of a moderate or slender fortune, and looking forward to a period not very remote when he may probably be obliged to return to the station from which he was taken, might sometimes be under temptations to sacrifice his duty to his interest, which it would require superlative virtue to withstand. An avaricious man might be tempted to betray the interests of the state to the acquisition of wealth. An ambitious man might make his own aggrandizement, by the aid of a foreign power, the price of his treachery to his constituents. The history of human conduct does not warrant that exalted opinion of human virtue which would make it wise in a nation to commit interests of so delicate and momentous a kind, as those which concern its intercourse with the rest of the world, to the sole disposal of a magistrate created and circumstanced as would be a President of the United States. To have intrusted the power of making treaties to the Senate alone, would have been to relinquish the benefits of the constitutional agency of the President in the conduct of foreign negotiations. It is true that the Senate would, in that case, have the option of employing him in this capacity, but they would also have the option of letting it alone, and pique or cabal might induce the latter rather than the former. Besides this, the ministerial servant of the Senate could not be expected to enjoy the confidence and respect of foreign powers in the same degree with the constitutional representatives of the nation, and, of course, would not be able to act with an equal degree of weight or efficacy. While the Union would, from this cause, lose a considerable advantage in the management of its external concerns, the people would lose the additional security which would result from the cooperation of the Executive. Though it would be imprudent to confide in him solely so important a trust, yet it cannot be doubted that his participation would materially add to the safety of the society. It must indeed be clear to a demonstration that the joint possession of the power in question, by the President and Senate, would afford a greater prospect of security, than the separate possession of it by either of them. And whoever has maturely weighed the circumstances which must concur in the appointment of a President, will be satisfied that the office will always bid fair to be filled by men of such characters as to render their concurrence in the formation of treaties peculiarly desirable, as well on the score of wisdom, as on that of integrity. The remarks made in a former number, which have been alluded to in another part of this paper, will apply with conclusive force against the admission of the House of Representatives to a share in the formation of treaties. The fluctuating and, taking its future increase into the account, the multitudinous composition of that body, forbid us to expect in it those qualities which are essential to the proper execution of such a trust. Accurate and comprehensive knowledge of foreign politics; a steady and systematic adherence to the same views; a nice and uniform sensibility to national character; decision, SECRECY, and despatch, are incompatible with the genius of a body so variable and so numerous. The very complication of the business, by introducing a necessity of the concurrence of so many different bodies, would of itself afford a solid objection. The greater frequency of the calls upon the House of Representatives, and the greater length of time which it would often be necessary to keep them together when convened, to obtain their sanction in the progressive stages of a treaty, would be a source of so great inconvenience and expense as alone ought to condemn the project. The only objection which remains to be canvassed, is that which would substitute the proportion of two thirds of all the members composing the senatorial body, to that of two thirds of the members PRESENT. It has been shown, under the second head of our inquiries, that all provisions which require more than the majority of any body to its resolutions, have a direct tendency to embarrass the operations of the government, and an indirect one to subject the sense of the majority to that of the minority. This consideration seems sufficient to determine our opinion, that the convention have gone as far in the endeavor to secure the advantage of numbers in the formation of treaties as could have been reconciled either with the activity of the public councils or with a reasonable regard to the major sense of the community. If two thirds of the whole number of members had been required, it would, in many cases, from the nonattendance of a part, amount in practice to a necessity of unanimity. And the history of every political establishment in which this principle has prevailed, is a history of impotence, perplexity, and disorder. Proofs of this position might be adduced from the examples of the Roman Tribuneship, the Polish Diet, and the StatesGeneral of the Netherlands, did not an example at home render foreign precedents unnecessary. To require a fixed proportion of the whole body would not, in all probability, contribute to the advantages of a numerous agency, better then merely to require a proportion of the attending members. The former, by making a determinate number at all times requisite to a resolution, diminishes the motives to punctual attendance. The latter, by making the capacity of the body to depend on a PROPORTION which may be varied by the absence or presence of a single member, has the contrary effect. And as, by promoting punctuality, it tends to keep the body complete, there is great likelihood that its resolutions would generally be dictated by as great a number in this case as in the other; while there would be much fewer occasions of delay. It ought not to be forgotten that, under the existing Confederation, two members MAY, and usually DO, represent a State; whence it happens that Congress, who now are solely invested with ALL THE POWERS of the Union, rarely consist of a greater number of persons than would compose the intended Senate. If we add to this, that as the members vote by States, and that where there is only a single member present from a State, his vote is lost, it will justify a supposition that the active voices in the Senate, where the members are to vote individually, would rarely fall short in number of the active voices in the existing Congress. When, in addition to these considerations, we take into view the cooperation of the President, we shall not hesitate to infer that the people of America would have greater security against an improper use of the power of making treaties, under the new Constitution, than they now enjoy under the Confederation. And when we proceed still one step further, and look forward to the probable augmentation of the Senate, by the erection of new States, we shall not only perceive ample ground of confidence in the sufficiency of the members to whose agency that power will be intrusted, but we shall probably be led to conclude that a body more numerous than the Senate would be likely to become, would be very little fit for the proper discharge of the trust. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXVI. The Appointing Power of the Executive From the New York Packet. Tuesday, April 1, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The President is to NOMINATE, and, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors, other public ministers and consuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all other officers of the United States whose appointments are not otherwise provided for in the Constitution. But the Congress may by law vest the appointment of such inferior officers as they think proper, in the President alone, or in the courts of law, or in the heads of departments. The President shall have power to fill up ALL VACANCIES which may happen DURING THE RECESS OF THE SENATE, by granting commissions which shall EXPIRE at the end of their next session. It has been observed in a former paper, that the true test of a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good administration. If the justness of this observation be admitted, the mode of appointing the officers of the United States contained in the foregoing clauses, must, when examined, be allowed to be entitled to particular commendation. It is not easy to conceive a plan better calculated than this to promote a judicious choice of men for filling the offices of the Union; and it will not need proof, that on this point must essentially depend the character of its administration. It will be agreed on all hands, that the power of appointment, in ordinary cases, ought to be modified in one of three ways. It ought either to be vested in a single man, or in a SELECT assembly of a moderate number; or in a single man, with the concurrence of such an assembly. The exercise of it by the people at large will be readily admitted to be impracticable; as waiving every other consideration, it would leave them little time to do anything else. When, therefore, mention is made in the subsequent reasonings of an assembly or body of men, what is said must be understood to relate to a select body or assembly, of the description already given. The people collectively, from their number and from their dispersed situation, cannot be regulated in their movements by that systematic spirit of cabal and intrigue, which will be urged as the chief objections to reposing the power in question in a body of men. Those who have themselves reflected upon the subject, or who have attended to the observations made in other parts of these papers, in relation to the appointment of the President, will, I presume, agree to the position, that there would always be great probability of having the place supplied by a man of abilities, at least respectable. Premising this, I proceed to lay it down as a rule, that one man of discernment is better fitted to analyze and estimate the peculiar qualities adapted to particular offices, than a body of men of equal or perhaps even of superior discernment. The sole and undivided responsibility of one man will naturally beget a livelier sense of duty and a more exact regard to reputation. He will, on this account, feel himself under stronger obligations, and more interested to investigate with care the qualities requisite to the stations to be filled, and to prefer with impartiality the persons who may have the fairest pretensions to them. He will have FEWER personal attachments to gratify, than a body of men who may each be supposed to have an equal number; and will be so much the less liable to be misled by the sentiments of friendship and of affection. A single welldirected man, by a single understanding, cannot be distracted and warped by that diversity of views, feelings, and interests, which frequently distract and warp the resolutions of a collective body. There is nothing so apt to agitate the passions of mankind as personal considerations whether they relate to ourselves or to others, who are to be the objects of our choice or preference. Hence, in every exercise of the power of appointing to offices, by an assembly of men, we must expect to see a full display of all the private and party likings and dislikes, partialities and antipathies, attachments and animosities, which are felt by those who compose the assembly. The choice which may at any time happen to be made under such circumstances, will of course be the result either of a victory gained by one party over the other, or of a compromise between the parties. In either case, the intrinsic merit of the candidate will be too often out of sight. In the first, the qualifications best adapted to uniting the suffrages of the party, will be more considered than those which fit the person for the station. In the last, the coalition will commonly turn upon some interested equivalent: Give us the man we wish for this office, and you shall have the one you wish for that. This will be the usual condition of the bargain. And it will rarely happen that the advancement of the public service will be the primary object either of party victories or of party negotiations. The truth of the principles here advanced seems to have been felt by the most intelligent of those who have found fault with the provision made, in this respect, by the convention. They contend that the President ought solely to have been authorized to make the appointments under the federal government. But it is easy to show, that every advantage to be expected from such an arrangement would, in substance, be derived from the power of NOMINATION, which is proposed to be conferred upon him; while several disadvantages which might attend the absolute power of appointment in the hands of that officer would be avoided. In the act of nomination, his judgment alone would be exercised; and as it would be his sole duty to point out the man who, with the approbation of the Senate, should fill an office, his responsibility would be as complete as if he were to make the final appointment. There can, in this view, be no difference others, who are to be the objects of our choice or preference. Hence, in every exercise of the power of appointing to offices, by an assembly of men, we must expect to see a full display of all the private and party likings and dislikes, partialities and antipathies, attachments and animosities, which are felt by those who compose the assembly. The choice which may at any time happen to be made under such circumstances, will of course be the result either of a victory gained by one party over the other, or of a compromise between the parties. In either case, the intrinsic merit of the candidate will be too often out of sight. In the first, the qualifications best adapted to uniting the suffrages of the party, will be more considered than those which fit the person for the station. In the last, the coalition will commonly turn upon some interested equivalent: Give us the man we wish for this office, and you shall have the one you wish for that. This will be the usual condition of the bargain. And it will rarely happen that the advancement of the public service will be the primary object either of party victories or of party negotiations. The truth of the principles here advanced seems to have been felt by the most intelligent of those who have found fault with the provision made, in this respect, by the convention. They contend that the President ought solely to have been authorized to make the appointments under the federal government. But it is easy to show, that every advantage to be expected from such an arrangement would, in substance, be derived from the power of NOMINATION, which is proposed to be conferred upon him; while several disadvantages which might attend the absolute power of appointment in the hands of that officer would be avoided. In the act of nomination, his judgment alone would be exercised; and as it would be his sole duty to point out the man who, with the approbation of the Senate, should fill an office, his responsibility would be as complete as if he were to make the final appointment. There can, in this view, be no difference between nominating and appointing. The same motives which would influence a proper discharge of his duty in one case, would exist in the other. And as no man could be appointed but on his previous nomination, every man who might be appointed would be, in fact, his choice. But might not his nomination be overruled? I grant it might, yet this could only be to make place for another nomination by himself. The person ultimately appointed must be the object of his preference, though perhaps not in the first degree. It is also not very probable that his nomination would often be overruled. The Senate could not be tempted, by the preference they might feel to another, to reject the one proposed; because they could not assure themselves, that the person they might wish would be brought forward by a second or by any subsequent nomination. They could not even be certain, that a future nomination would present a candidate in any degree more acceptable to them; and as their dissent might cast a kind of stigma upon the individual rejected, and might have the appearance of a reflection upon the judgment of the chief magistrate, it is not likely that their sanction would often be refused, where there were not special and strong reasons for the refusal. To what purpose then require the cooperation of the Senate? I answer, that the necessity of their concurrence would have a powerful, though, in general, a silent operation. It would be an excellent check upon a spirit of favoritism in the President, and would tend greatly to prevent the appointment of unfit characters from State prejudice, from family connection, from personal attachment, or from a view to popularity. In addition to this, it would be an efficacious source of stability in the administration. It will readily be comprehended, that a man who had himself the sole disposition of offices, would be governed much more by his private inclinations and interests, than when he was bound to submit the propriety of his choice to the discussion and determination of a different and independent body, and that body an entire branch of the legislature. The possibility of rejection would be a strong motive to care in proposing. The danger to his own reputation, and, in the case of an elective magistrate, to his political existence, from betraying a spirit of favoritism, or an unbecoming pursuit of popularity, to the observation of a body whose opinion would have great weight in forming that of the public, could not fail to operate as a barrier to the one and to the other. He would be both ashamed and afraid to bring forward, for the most distinguished or lucrative stations, candidates who had no other merit than that of coming from the same State to which he particularly belonged, or of being in some way or other personally allied to him, or of possessing the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them the obsequious instruments of his pleasure. To this reasoning it has been objected that the President, by the influence of the power of nomination, may secure the complaisance of the Senate to his views. This supposition of universal venalty in human nature is little less an error in political reasoning, than the supposition of universal rectitude. The institution of delegated power implies, that there is a portion of virtue and honor among mankind, which may be a reasonable foundation of confidence; and experience justifies the theory. It has been found to exist in the most corrupt periods of the most corrupt governments. The venalty of the British House of Commons has been long a topic of accusation against that body, in the country to which they belong as well as in this; and it cannot be doubted that the charge is, to a considerable extent, well founded. But it is as little to be doubted, that there is always a large proportion of the body, which consists of independent and publicspirited men, who have an influential weight in the councils of the nation. Hence it is (the present reign not excepted) that the sense of that body is often seen to control the inclinations of the monarch, both with regard to men and to measures. Though it might therefore be allowable to suppose that the Executive might occasionally influence some individuals in the Senate, yet the supposition, that he could in general purchase the integrity of the whole body, would be forced and improbable. A man disposed to view human nature as it is, without either flattering its virtues or exaggerating its vices, will see sufficient ground of confidence in the probity of the Senate, to rest satisfied, not only that it will be impracticable to the Executive to corrupt or seduce a majority of its members, but that the necessity of its cooperation, in the business of appointments, will be a considerable and salutary restraint upon the conduct of that magistrate. Nor is the integrity of the Senate the only reliance. The Constitution has provided some important guards against the danger of executive influence upon the legislative body: it declares that No senator or representative shall during the time FOR WHICH HE WAS ELECTED, be appointed to any civil office under the United States, which shall have been created, or the emoluments whereof shall have been increased, during such time; and no person, holding any office under the United States, shall be a member of either house during his continuance in office. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXVII. The Appointing Power Continued and Other Powers of the Executive Considered From the New York Packet. Friday, April 4, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: It has been mentioned as one of the advantages to be expected from the cooperation of the Senate, in the business of appointments, that it would contribute to the stability of the administration. The consent of that body would be necessary to displace as well as to appoint. A change of the Chief Magistrate, therefore, would not occasion so violent or so general a revolution in the officers of the government as might be expected, if he were the sole disposer of offices. Where a man in any station had given satisfactory evidence of his fitness for it, a new President would be restrained from attempting a change in favor of a person more agreeable to him, by the apprehension that a discountenance of the Senate might frustrate the attempt, and bring some degree of discredit upon himself. Those who can best estimate the value of a steady administration, will be most disposed to prize a provision which connects the official existence of public men with the approbation or disapprobation of that body which, from the greater permanency of its own composition, will in all probability be less subject to inconstancy than any other member of the government. To this union of the Senate with the President, in the article of appointments, it has in some cases been suggested that it would serve to give the President an undue influence over the Senate, and in others that it would have an opposite tendency, a strong proof that neither suggestion is true. To state the first in its proper form, is to refute it. It amounts to this: the President would have an improper INFLUENCE OVER the Senate, because the Senate would have the power of RESTRAINING him. This is an absurdity in terms. It cannot admit of a doubt that the entire power of appointment would enable him much more effectually to establish a dangerous empire over that body, than a mere power of nomination subject to their control. Let us take a view of the converse of the proposition: the Senate would influence the Executive. As I have had occasion to remark in several other instances, the indistinctness of the objection forbids a precise answer. In what manner is this influence to be exerted? In relation to what objects? The power of influencing a person, in the sense in which it is here used, must imply a power of conferring a benefit upon him. How could the Senate confer a benefit upon the President by the manner of employing their right of negative upon his nominations? If it be said they might sometimes gratify him by an acquiescence in a favorite choice, when public motives might dictate a different conduct, I answer, that the instances in which the President could be personally interested in the result, would be too few to admit of his being materially affected by the compliances of the Senate. The POWER which can ORIGINATE the disposition of honors and emoluments, is more likely to attract than to be attracted by the POWER which can merely obstruct their course. If by influencing the President be meant RESTRAINING him, this is precisely what must have been intended. And it has been shown that the restraint would be salutary, at the same time that it would not be such as to destroy a single advantage to be looked for from the uncontrolled agency of that Magistrate. The right of nomination would produce all the good of that of appointment, and would in a great measure avoid its evils. Upon a comparison of the plan for the appointment of the officers of the proposed government with that which is established by the constitution of this State, a decided preference must be given to the former. In that plan the power of nomination is unequivocally vested in the Executive. And as there would be a necessity for submitting each nomination to the judgment of an entire branch of the legislature, the circumstances attending an appointment, from the mode of conducting it, would naturally become matters of notoriety; and the public would be at no loss to determine what part had been performed by the different actors. The blame of a bad nomination would fall upon the President singly and absolutely. The censure of rejecting a good one would lie entirely at the door of the Senate; aggravated by the consideration of their having counteracted the good intentions of the Executive. If an ill appointment should be made, the Executive for nominating, and the Senate for approving, would participate, though in different degrees, in the opprobrium and disgrace. The reverse of all this characterizes the manner of appointment in this State. The council of appointment consists of from three to five persons, of whom the governor is always one. This small body, shut up in a private apartment, impenetrable to the public eye, proceed to the execution of the trust committed to them. It is known that the governor claims the right of nomination, upon the strength of some ambiguous expressions in the constitution; but it is not known to what extent, or in what manner he exercises it; nor upon what occasions he is contradicted or opposed. The censure of a bad appointment, on account of the uncertainty of its author, and for want of a determinate object, has neither poignancy nor duration. And while an unbounded field for cabal and intrigue lies open, all idea of responsibility is lost. The most that the public can know, is that the governor claims the right of nomination; that TWO out of the inconsiderable number of FOUR men can too often be managed without much difficulty; that if some of the members of a particular council should happen to be of an uncomplying character, it is frequently not impossible to get rid of their opposition by regulating the times of meeting in such a manner as to render their attendance inconvenient; and that from whatever cause it may proceed, a great number of very improper appointments are from time to time made. Whether a governor of this State avails himself of the ascendant he must necessarily have, in this delicate and important part of the administration, to prefer to offices men who are best qualified for them, or whether he prostitutes that advantage to the advancement of persons whose chief merit is their implicit devotion to his will, and to the support of a despicable and dangerous system of personal influence, are questions which, unfortunately for the community, can only be the subjects of speculation and conjecture. Every mere council of appointment, however constituted, will be a conclave, in which cabal and intrigue will have their full scope. Their number, without an unwarrantable increase of expense, cannot be large enough to preclude a facility of combination. And as each member will have his friends and connections to provide for, the desire of mutual gratification will beget a scandalous bartering of votes and bargaining for places. The private attachments of one man might easily be satisfied; but to satisfy the private attachments of a dozen, or of twenty men, would occasion a monopoly of all the principal employments of the government in a few families, and would lead more directly to an aristocracy or an oligarchy than any measure that could be contrived. If, to avoid an accumulation of offices, there was to be a frequent change in the persons who were to compose the council, this would involve the mischiefs of a mutable administration in their full extent. Such a council would also be more liable to executive influence than the Senate, because they would be fewer in number, and would act less immediately under the public inspection. Such a council, in fine, as a substitute for the plan of the convention, would be productive of an increase of expense, a multiplication of the evils which spring from favoritism and intrigue in the distribution of public honors, a decrease of stability in the administration of the government, and a diminution of the security against an undue influence of the Executive. And yet such a council has been warmly contended for as an essential amendment in the proposed Constitution. I could not with propriety conclude my observations on the subject of appointments without taking notice of a scheme for which there have appeared some, though but few advocates; I mean that of uniting the House of Representatives in the power of making them. I shall, however, do little more than mention it, as I cannot imagine that it is likely to gain the countenance of any considerable part of the community. A body so fluctuating and at the same time so numerous, can never be deemed proper for the exercise of that power. Its unfitness will appear manifest to all, when it is recollected that in half a century it may consist of three or four hundred persons. All the advantages of the stability, both of the Executive and of the Senate, would be defeated by this union, and infinite delays and embarrassments would be occasioned. The example of most of the States in their local constitutions encourages us to reprobate the idea. The only remaining powers of the Executive are comprehended in giving information to Congress of the state of the Union; in recommending to their consideration such measures as he shall judge expedient; in convening them, or either branch, upon extraordinary occasions; in adjourning them when they cannot themselves agree upon the time of adjournment; in receiving ambassadors and other public ministers; in faithfully executing the laws; and in commissioning all the officers of the United States. Except some cavils about the power of convening EITHER house of the legislature, and that of receiving ambassadors, no objection has been made to this class of authorities; nor could they possibly admit of any. It required, indeed, an insatiable avidity for censure to invent exceptions to the parts which have been excepted to. In regard to the power of convening either house of the legislature, I shall barely remark, that in respect to the Senate at least, we can readily discover a good reason for it. AS this body has a concurrent power with the Executive in the article of treaties, it might often be necessary to call it together with a view to this object, when it would be unnecessary and improper to convene the House of Representatives. As to the reception of ambassadors, what I have said in a former paper will furnish a sufficient answer. We have now completed a survey of the structure and powers of the executive department, which, I have endeavored to show, combines, as far as republican principles will admit, all the requisites to energy. The remaining inquiry is: Does it also combine the requisites to safety, in a republican sense, a due dependence on the people, a due responsibility? The answer to this question has been anticipated in the investigation of its other characteristics, and is satisfactorily deducible from these circumstances; from the election of the President once in four years by persons immediately chosen by the people for that purpose; and from his being at all times liable to impeachment, trial, dismission from office, incapacity to serve in any other, and to forfeiture of life and estate by subsequent prosecution in the common course of law. But these precautions, great as they are, are not the only ones which the plan of the convention has provided in favor of the public security. In the only instances in which the abuse of the executive authority was materially to be feared, the Chief Magistrate of the United States would, by that plan, be subjected to the control of a branch of the legislative body. What more could be desired by an enlightened and reasonable people? PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXVIII. The Judiciary Department From McLEANS Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: We proceed now to an examination of the judiciary department of the proposed government. In unfolding the defects of the existing Confederation, the utility and necessity of a federal judicature have been clearly pointed out. It is the less necessary to recapitulate the considerations there urged, as the propriety of the institution in the abstract is not disputed; the only questions which have been raised being relative to the manner of constituting it, and to its extent. To these points, therefore, our observations shall be confined. The manner of constituting it seems to embrace these several objects: 1st. The mode of appointing the judges. 2d. The tenure by which they are to hold their places. 3d. The partition of the judiciary authority between different courts, and their relations to each other. First. As to the mode of appointing the judges; this is the same with that of appointing the officers of the Union in general, and has been so fully discussed in the two last numbers, that nothing can be said here which would not be useless repetition. Second. As to the tenure by which the judges are to hold their places; this chiefly concerns their duration in office; the provisions for their support; the precautions for their responsibility. According to the plan of the convention, all judges who may be appointed by the United States are to hold their offices DURING GOOD BEHAVIOR; which is conformable to the most approved of the State constitutions and among the rest, to that of this State. Its propriety having been drawn into question by the adversaries of that plan, is no light symptom of the rage for objection, which disorders their imaginations and judgments. The standard of good behavior for the continuance in office of the judicial magistracy, is certainly one of the most valuable of the modern improvements in the practice of government. In a monarchy it is an excellent barrier to the despotism of the prince; in a republic it is a no less excellent barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body. And it is the best expedient which can be devised in any government, to secure a steady, upright, and impartial administration of the laws. Whoever attentively considers the different departments of power must perceive, that, in a government in which they are separated from each other, the judiciary, from the nature of its functions, will always be the least dangerous to the political rights of the Constitution; because it will be least in a capacity to annoy or injure them. The Executive not only dispenses the honors, but holds the sword of the community. The legislature not only commands the purse, but prescribes the rules by which the duties and rights of every citizen are to be regulated. The judiciary, on the contrary, has no influence over either the sword or the purse; no direction either of the strength or of the wealth of the society; and can take no active resolution whatever. It may truly be said to have neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments. This simple view of the matter suggests several important consequences. It proves incontestably, that the judiciary is beyond comparison the weakest of the three departments of power;1 that it can never attack with success either of the other two; and that all possible care is requisite to enable it to defend itself against their attacks. It equally proves, that though individual oppression may now and then proceed from the courts of justice, the general liberty of the people can never be endangered from that quarter; I mean so long as the judiciary remains truly distinct from both the legislature and the Executive. For I agree, that there is no liberty, if the power of judging be not separated from the legislative and executive powers.2 And it proves, in the last place, that as liberty can have nothing to fear from the judiciary alone, but would have every thing to fear from its union with either of the other departments; that as all the effects of such a union must ensue from a dependence of the former on the latter, notwithstanding a nominal and apparent separation; that as, from the natural feebleness of the judiciary, it is in continual jeopardy of being overpowered, awed, or influenced by its coordinate branches; and that as nothing can contribute so much to its firmness and independence as permanency in office, this quality may therefore be justly regarded as an indispensable ingredient in its constitution, and, in a great measure, as the citadel of the public justice and the public security. The complete independence of the courts of justice is peculiarly essential in a limited Constitution. By a limited Constitution, I understand one which contains certain specified exceptions to the legislative authority; such, for instance, as that it shall pass no bills of attainder, no expostfacto laws, and the like. Limitations of this kind can be preserved in practice no other way than through the medium of courts of justice, whose duty it must be to declare all acts contrary to the manifest tenor of the Constitution void. Without this, all the reservations of particular rights or privileges would amount to nothing. Some perplexity respecting the rights of the courts to pronounce legislative acts void, because contrary to the Constitution, has arisen from an imagination that the doctrine would imply a superiority of the judiciary to the legislative power. It is urged that the authority which can declare the acts of another void, must necessarily be superior to the one whose acts may be declared void. As this doctrine is of great importance in all the American constitutions, a brief discussion of the ground on which it rests cannot be unacceptable. There is no position which depends on clearer principles, than that every act of a delegated authority, contrary to the tenor of the commission under which it is exercised, is void. No legislative act, therefore, contrary to the Constitution, can be valid. To deny this, would be to affirm, that the deputy is greater than his principal; that the servant is above his master; that the representatives of the people are superior to the people themselves; that men acting by virtue of powers, may do not only what their powers do not authorize, but what they forbid. If it be said that the legislative body are themselves the constitutional judges of their own powers, and that the construction they put upon them is conclusive upon the other departments, it may be answered, that this cannot be the natural presumption, where it is not to be collected from any particular provisions in the Constitution. It is not otherwise to be supposed, that the Constitution could intend to enable the representatives of the people to substitute their WILL to that of their constituents. It is far more rational to suppose, that the courts were designed to be an intermediate body between the people and the legislature, in order, among other things, to keep the latter within the limits assigned to their authority. The interpretation of the laws is the proper and peculiar province of the courts. A constitution is, in fact, and must be regarded by the judges, as a fundamental law. It therefore belongs to them to ascertain its meaning, as well as the meaning of any particular act proceeding from the legislative body. If there should happen to be an irreconcilable variance between the two, that which has the superior obligation and validity ought, of course, to be preferred; or, in other words, the Constitution ought to be preferred to the statute, the intention of the people to the intention of their agents. Nor does this conclusion by any means suppose a superiority of the judicial to the legislative power. It only supposes that the power of the people is superior to both; and that where the will of the legislature, declared in its statutes, stands in opposition to that of the people, declared in the Constitution, the judges ought to be governed by the latter rather than the former. They ought to regulate their decisions by the fundamental laws, rather than by those which are not fundamental. This exercise of judicial discretion, in determining between two contradictory laws, is exemplified in a familiar instance. It not uncommonly happens, that there are two statutes existing at one time, clashing in whole or in part with each other, and neither of them containing any repealing clause or expression. In such a case, it is the province of the courts to liquidate and fix their meaning and operation. So far as they can, by any fair construction, be reconciled to each other, reason and law conspire to dictate that this should be done; where this is impracticable, it becomes a matter of necessity to give effect to one, in exclusion of the other. The rule which has obtained in the courts for determining their relative validity is, that the last in order of time shall be preferred to the first. But this is a mere rule of construction, not derived from any positive law, but from the nature and reason of the thing. It is a rule not enjoined upon the courts by legislative provision, but adopted by themselves, as consonant to truth and propriety, for the direction of their conduct as interpreters of the law. They thought it reasonable, that between the interfering acts of an EQUAL authority, that which was the last indication of its will should have the preference. But in regard to the interfering acts of a superior and subordinate authority, of an original and derivative power, the nature and reason of the thing indicate the converse of that rule as proper to be followed. They teach us that the prior act of a superior ought to be preferred to the subsequent act of an inferior and subordinate authority; and that accordingly, whenever a particular statute contravenes the Constitution, it will be the duty of the judicial tribunals to adhere to the latter and disregard the former. It can be of no weight to say that the courts, on the pretense of a repugnancy, may substitute their own pleasure to the constitutional intentions of the legislature. This might as well happen in the case of two contradictory statutes; or it might as well happen in every adjudication upon any single statute. The courts must declare the sense of the law; and if they should be disposed to exercise WILL instead of JUDGMENT, the consequence would equally be the substitution of their pleasure to that of the legislative body. The observation, if it prove any thing, would prove that there ought to be no judges distinct from that body. If, then, the courts of justice are to be considered as the bulwarks of a limited Constitution against legislative encroachments, this consideration will afford a strong argument for the permanent tenure of judicial offices, since nothing will contribute so much as this to that independent spirit in the judges which must be essential to the faithful performance of so arduous a duty. This independence of the judges is equally requisite to guard the Constitution and the rights of individuals from the effects of those ill humors, which the arts of designing men, or the influence of particular conjunctures, sometimes disseminate among the people themselves, and which, though they speedily give place to better information, and more deliberate reflection, have a tendency, in the meantime, to occasion dangerous innovations in the government, and serious oppressions of the minor party in the community. Though I trust the friends of the proposed Constitution will never concur with its enemies3 in questioning that fundamental principle of republican government, which admits the right of the people to alter or abolish the established Constitution, whenever they find it inconsistent with their happiness, yet it is not to be inferred from this principle, that the representatives of the people, whenever a momentary inclination happens to lay hold of a majority of their constituents, incompatible with the provisions in the existing Constitution, would, on that account, be justifiable in a violation of those provisions; or that the courts would be under a greater obligation to connive at infractions in this shape, than when they had proceeded wholly from the cabals of the representative body. Until the people have, by some solemn and authoritative act, annulled or changed the established form, it is binding upon themselves collectively, as well as individually; and no presumption, or even knowledge, of their sentiments, can warrant their representatives in a departure from it, prior to such an act. But it is easy to see, that it would require an uncommon portion of fortitude in the judges to do their duty as faithful guardians of the Constitution, where legislative invasions of it had been instigated by the major voice of the community. But it is not with a view to infractions of the Constitution only, that the independence of the judges may be an essential safeguard against the effects of occasional ill humors in the society. These sometimes extend no farther than to the injury of the private rights of particular classes of citizens, by unjust and partial laws. Here also the firmness of the judicial magistracy is of vast importance in mitigating the severity and confining the operation of such laws. It not only serves to moderate the immediate mischiefs of those which may have been passed, but it operates as a check upon the legislative body in passing them; who, perceiving that obstacles to the success of iniquitous intention are to be expected from the scruples of the courts, are in a manner compelled, by the very motives of the injustice they meditate, to qualify their attempts. This is a circumstance calculated to have more influence upon the character of our governments, than but few may be aware of. The benefits of the integrity and moderation of the judiciary have already been felt in more States than one; and though they may have displeased those whose sinister expectations they may have disappointed, they must have commanded the esteem and applause of all the virtuous and disinterested. Considerate men, of every description, ought to prize whatever will tend to beget or fortify that temper in the courts: as no man can be sure that he may not be tomorrow the victim of a spirit of injustice, by which he may be a gainer today. And every man must now feel, that the inevitable tendency of such a spirit is to sap the foundations of public and private confidence, and to introduce in its stead universal distrust and distress. That inflexible and uniform adherence to the rights of the Constitution, and of individuals, which we perceive to be indispensable in the courts of justice, can certainly not be expected from judges who hold their offices by a temporary commission. Periodical appointments, however regulated, or by whomsoever made, would, in some way or other, be fatal to their necessary independence. If the power of making them was committed either to the Executive or legislature, there would be danger of an improper complaisance to the branch which possessed it; if to both, there would be an unwillingness to hazard the displeasure of either; if to the people, or to persons chosen by them for the special purpose, there would be too great a disposition to consult popularity, to justify a reliance that nothing would be consulted but the Constitution and the laws. There is yet a further and a weightier reason for the permanency of the judicial offices, which is deducible from the nature of the qualifications they require. It has been frequently remarked, with great propriety, that a voluminous code of laws is one of the inconveniences necessarily connected with the advantages of a free government. To avoid an arbitrary discretion in the courts, it is indispensable that they should be bound down by strict rules and precedents, which serve to define and point out their duty in every particular case that comes before them; and it will readily be conceived from the variety of controversies which grow out of the folly and wickedness of mankind, that the records of those precedents must unavoidably swell to a very considerable bulk, and must demand long and laborious study to acquire a competent knowledge of them. Hence it is, that there can be but few men in the society who will have sufficient skill in the laws to qualify them for the stations of judges. And making the proper deductions for the ordinary depravity of human nature, the number must be still smaller of those who unite the requisite integrity with the requisite knowledge. These considerations apprise us, that the government can have no great option between fit character; and that a temporary duration in office, which would naturally discourage such characters from quitting a lucrative line of practice to accept a seat on the bench, would have a tendency to throw the administration of justice into hands less able, and less well qualified, to conduct it with utility and dignity. In the present circumstances of this country, and in those in which it is likely to be for a long time to come, the disadvantages on this score would be greater than they may at first sight appear; but it must be confessed, that they are far inferior to those which present themselves under the other aspects of the subject. Upon the whole, there can be no room to doubt that the convention acted wisely in copying from the models of those constitutions which have established GOOD BEHAVIOR as the tenure of their judicial offices, in point of duration; and that so far from being blamable on this account, their plan would have been inexcusably defective, if it had wanted this important feature of good government. The experience of Great Britain affords an illustrious comment on the excellence of the institution. PUBLIUS. 1 The celebrated Montesquieu, speaking of them, says: Of the three powers above mentioned, the judiciary is next to nothing. Spirit of Laws. vol. i., page 186. 2 Idem, page 181. 3 Vide Protest of the Minority of the Convention of Pennsylvania, Martins Speech, etc. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXIX. The Judiciary Continued From MCLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Next to permanency in office, nothing can contribute more to the independence of the judges than a fixed provision for their support. The remark made in relation to the President is equally applicable here. In the general course of human nature, A POWER OVER A MANs SUBSISTENCE AMOUNTS TO A POWER OVER HIS WILL. And we can never hope to see realized in practice, the complete separation of the judicial from the legislative power, in any system which leaves the former dependent for pecuniary resources on the occasional grants of the latter. The enlightened friends to good government in every State, have seen cause to lament the want of precise and explicit precautions in the State constitutions on this head. Some of these indeed have declared that PERMANENT1 salaries should be established for the judges; but the experiment has in some instances shown that such expressions are not sufficiently definite to preclude legislative evasions. Something still more positive and unequivocal has been evinced to be requisite. The plan of the convention accordingly has provided that the judges of the United States shall at STATED TIMES receive for their services a compensation which shall not be DIMINISHED during their continuance in office. This, all circumstances considered, is the most eligible provision that could have been devised. It will readily be understood that the fluctuations in the value of money and in the state of society rendered a fixed rate of compensation in the Constitution inadmissible. What might be extravagant today, might in half a century become penurious and inadequate. It was therefore necessary to leave it to the discretion of the legislature to vary its provisions in conformity to the variations in circumstances, yet under such restrictions as to put it out of the power of that body to change the condition of the individual for the worse. A man may then be sure of the ground upon which he stands, and can never be deterred from his duty by the apprehension of being placed in a less eligible situation. The clause which has been quoted combines both advantages. The salaries of judicial officers may from time to time be altered, as occasion shall require, yet so as never to lessen the allowance with which any particular judge comes into office, in respect to him. It will be observed that a difference has been made by the convention between the compensation of the President and of the judges, That of the former can neither be increased nor diminished; that of the latter can only not be diminished. This probably arose from the difference in the duration of the respective offices. As the President is to be elected for no more than four years, it can rarely happen that an adequate salary, fixed at the commencement of that period, will not continue to be such to its end. But with regard to the judges, who, if they behave properly, will be secured in their places for life, it may well happen, especially in the early stages of the government, that a stipend, which would be very sufficient at their first appointment, would become too small in the progress of their service. This provision for the support of the judges bears every mark of prudence and efficacy; and it may be safely affirmed that, together with the permanent tenure of their offices, it affords a better prospect of their independence than is discoverable in the constitutions of any of the States in regard to their own judges. The precautions for their responsibility are comprised in the article respecting impeachments. They are liable to be impeached for malconduct by the House of Representatives, and tried by the Senate; and, if convicted, may be dismissed from office, and disqualified for holding any other. This is the only provision on the point which is consistent with the necessary independence of the judicial character, and is the only one which we find in our own Constitution in respect to our own judges. The want of a provision for removing the judges on account of inability has been a subject of complaint. But all considerate men will be sensible that such a provision would either not be practiced upon or would be more liable to abuse than calculated to answer any good purpose. The mensuration of the faculties of the mind has, I believe, no place in the catalogue of known arts. An attempt to fix the boundary between the regions of ability and inability, would much oftener give scope to personal and party attachments and enmities than advance the interests of justice or the public good. The result, except in the case of insanity, must for the most part be arbitrary; and insanity, without any formal or express provision, may be safely pronounced to be a virtual disqualification. The constitution of New York, to avoid investigations that must forever be vague and dangerous, has taken a particular age as the criterion of inability. No man can be a judge beyond sixty. I believe there are few at present who do not disapprove of this provision. There is no station, in relation to which it is less proper than to that of a judge. The deliberating and comparing faculties generally preserve their strength much beyond that period in men who survive it; and when, in addition to this circumstance, we consider how few there are who outlive the season of intellectual vigor, and how improbable it is that any considerable portion of the bench, whether more or less numerous, should be in such a situation at the same time, we shall be ready to conclude that limitations of this sort have little to recommend them. In a republic, where fortunes are not affluent, and pensions not expedient, the dismission of men from stations in which they have served their country long and usefully, on which they depend for subsistence, and from which it will be too late to resort to any other occupation for a livelihood, ought to have some better apology to humanity than is to be found in the imaginary danger of a superannuated bench. PUBLIUS. 1 Vide Constitution of Massachusetts, chapter 2, section 1, article 13. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXX. The Powers of the Judiciary From McLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: To judge with accuracy of the proper extent of the federal judicature, it will be necessary to consider, in the first place, what are its proper objects. It seems scarcely to admit of controversy, that the judicary authority of the Union ought to extend to these several descriptions of cases: 1st, to all those which arise out of the laws of the United States, passed in pursuance of their just and constitutional powers of legislation; 2d, to all those which concern the execution of the provisions expressly contained in the articles of Union; 3d, to all those in which the United States are a party; 4th, to all those which involve the PEACE of the CONFEDERACY, whether they relate to the intercourse between the United States and foreign nations, or to that between the States themselves; 5th, to all those which originate on the high seas, and are of admiralty or maritime jurisdiction; and, lastly, to all those in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial and unbiased. The first point depends upon this obvious consideration, that there ought always to be a constitutional method of giving efficacy to constitutional provisions. What, for instance, would avail restrictions on the authority of the State legislatures, without some constitutional mode of enforcing the observance of them? The States, by the plan of the convention, are prohibited from doing a variety of things, some of which are incompatible with the interests of the Union, and others with the principles of good government. The imposition of duties on imported articles, and the emission of paper money, are specimens of each kind. No man of sense will believe, that such prohibitions would be scrupulously regarded, without some effectual power in the government to restrain or correct the infractions of them. This power must either be a direct negative on the State laws, or an authority in the federal courts to overrule such as might be in manifest contravention of the articles of Union. There is no third course that I can imagine. The latter appears to have been thought by the convention preferable to the former, and, I presume, will be most agreeable to the States. As to the second point, it is impossible, by any argument or comment, to make it clearer than it is in itself. If there are such things as political axioms, the propriety of the judicial power of a government being coextensive with its legislative, may be ranked among the number. The mere necessity of uniformity in the interpretation of the national laws, decides the question. Thirteen independent courts of final jurisdiction over the same causes, arising upon the same laws, is a hydra in government, from which nothing but contradiction and confusion can proceed. Still less need be said in regard to the third point. Controversies between the nation and its members or citizens, can only be properly referred to the national tribunals. Any other plan would be contrary to reason, to precedent, and to decorum. The fourth point rests on this plain proposition, that the peace of the WHOLE ought not to be left at the disposal of a PART. The Union will undoubtedly be answerable to foreign powers for the conduct of its members. And the responsibility for an injury ought ever to be accompanied with the faculty of preventing it. As the denial or perversion of justice by the sentences of courts, as well as in any other manner, is with reason classed among the just causes of war, it will follow that the federal judiciary ought to have cognizance of all causes in which the citizens of other countries are concerned. This is not less essential to the preservation of the public faith, than to the security of the public tranquillity. A distinction may perhaps be imagined between cases arising upon treaties and the laws of nations and those which may stand merely on the footing of the municipal law. The former kind may be supposed proper for the federal jurisdiction, the latter for that of the States. But it is at least problematical, whether an unjust sentence against a foreigner, where the subject of controversy was wholly relative to the lex loci, would not, if unredressed, be an aggression upon his sovereign, as well as one which violated the stipulations of a treaty or the general law of nations. And a still greater objection to the distinction would result from the immense difficulty, if not impossibility, of a practical discrimination between the cases of one complexion and those of the other. So great a proportion of the cases in which foreigners are parties, involve national questions, that it is by far most safe and most expedient to refer all those in which they are concerned to the national tribunals. The power of determining causes between two States, between one State and the citizens of another, and between the citizens of different States, is perhaps not less essential to the peace of the Union than that which has been just examined. History gives us a horrid picture of the dissensions and private wars which distracted and desolated Germany prior to the institution of the Imperial Chamber by Maximilian, towards the close of the fifteenth century; and informs us, at the same time, of the vast influence of that institution in appeasing the disorders and establishing the tranquillity of the empire. This was a court invested with authority to decide finally all differences among the members of the Germanic body. A method of terminating territorial disputes between the States, under the authority of the federal head, was not unattended to, even in the imperfect system by which they have been hitherto held together. But there are many other sources, besides interfering claims of boundary, from which bickerings and animosities may spring up among the members of the Union. To some of these we have been witnesses in the course of our past experience. It will readily be conjectured that I allude to the fraudulent laws which have been passed in too many of the States. And though the proposed Constitution establishes particular guards against the repetition of those instances which have heretofore made their appearance, yet it is warrantable to apprehend that the spirit which produced them will assume new shapes, that could not be foreseen nor specifically provided against. Whatever practices may have a tendency to disturb the harmony between the States, are proper objects of federal superintendence and control. It may be esteemed the basis of the Union, that the citizens of each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens of the several States. And if it be a just principle that every government OUGHT TO POSSESS THE MEANS OF EXECUTING ITS OWN PROVISIONS BY ITS OWN AUTHORITY, it will follow, that in order to the inviolable maintenance of that equality of privileges and immunities to which the citizens of the Union will be entitled, the national judiciary ought to preside in all cases in which one State or its citizens are opposed to another State or its citizens. To secure the full effect of so fundamental a provision against all evasion and subterfuge, it is necessary that its construction should be committed to that tribunal which, having no local attachments, will be likely to be impartial between the different States and their citizens, and which, owing its official existence to the Union, will never be likely to feel any bias inauspicious to the principles on which it is founded. The fifth point will demand little animadversion. The most bigoted idolizers of State authority have not thus far shown a disposition to deny the national judiciary the cognizances of maritime causes. These so generally depend on the laws of nations, and so commonly affect the rights of foreigners, that they fall within the considerations which are relative to the public peace. The most important part of them are, by the present Confederation, submitted to federal jurisdiction. The reasonableness of the agency of the national courts in cases in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial, speaks for itself. No man ought certainly to be a judge in his own cause, or in any cause in respect to which he has the least interest or bias. This principle has no inconsiderable weight in designating the federal courts as the proper tribunals for the determination of controversies between different States and their citizens. And it ought to have the same operation in regard to some cases between citizens of the same State. Claims to land under grants of different States, founded upon adverse pretensions of boundary, are of this description. The courts of neither of the granting States could be expected to be unbiased. The laws may have even prejudged the question, and tied the courts down to decisions in favor of the grants of the State to which they belonged. And even where this had not been done, it would be natural that the judges, as men, should feel a strong predilection to the claims of their own government. Having thus laid down and discussed the principles which ought to regulate the constitution of the federal judiciary, we will proceed to test, by these principles, the particular powers of which, according to the plan of the convention, it is to be composed. It is to comprehend all cases in law and equity arising under the Constitution, the laws of the United States, and treaties made, or which shall be made, under their authority; to all cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to all cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction; to controversies to which the United States shall be a party; to controversies between two or more States; between a State and citizens of another State; between citizens of different States; between citizens of the same State claiming lands and grants of different States; and between a State or the citizens thereof and foreign states, citizens, and subjects. This constitutes the entire mass of the judicial authority of the Union. Let us now review it in detail. It is, then, to extend: First. To all cases in law and equity, ARISING UNDER THE CONSTITUTION and THE LAWS OF THE UNITED STATES. This corresponds with the two first classes of causes, which have been enumerated, as proper for the jurisdiction of the United States. It has been asked, what is meant by cases arising under the Constitution, in contradiction from those arising under the laws of the United States? The difference has been already explained. All the restrictions upon the authority of the State legislatures furnish examples of it. They are not, for instance, to emit paper money; but the interdiction results from the Constitution, and will have no connection with any law of the United States. Should paper money, notwithstanding, be emited, the controversies concerning it would be cases arising under the Constitution and not the laws of the United States, in the ordinary signification of the terms. This may serve as a sample of the whole. It has also been asked, what need of the word equity What equitable causes can grow out of the Constitution and laws of the United States? There is hardly a subject of litigation between individuals, which may not involve those ingredients of FRAUD, ACCIDENT, TRUST, or HARDSHIP, which would render the matter an object of equitable rather than of legal jurisdiction, as the distinction is known and established in several of the States. It is the peculiar province, for instance, of a court of equity to relieve against what are called hard bargains: these are contracts in which, though there may have been no direct fraud or deceit, sufficient to invalidate them in a court of law, yet there may have been some undue and unconscionable advantage taken of the necessities or misfortunes of one of the parties, which a court of equity would not tolerate. In such cases, where foreigners were concerned on either side, it would be impossible for the federal judicatories to do justice without an equitable as well as a legal jurisdiction. Agreements to convey lands claimed under the grants of different States, may afford another example of the necessity of an equitable jurisdiction in the federal courts. This reasoning may not be so palpable in those States where the formal and technical distinction between LAW and EQUITY is not maintained, as in this State, where it is exemplified by every days practice. The judiciary authority of the Union is to extend: Second. To treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, and to all cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls. These belong to the fourth class of the enumerated cases, as they have an evident connection with the preservation of the national peace. Third. To cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction. These form, altogether, the fifth of the enumerated classes of causes proper for the cognizance of the national courts. Fourth. To controversies to which the United States shall be a party. These constitute the third of those classes. Fifth. To controversies between two or more States; between a State and citizens of another State; between citizens of different States. These belong to the fourth of those classes, and partake, in some measure, of the nature of the last. Sixth. To cases between the citizens of the same State, CLAIMING LANDS UNDER GRANTS OF DIFFERENT STATES. These fall within the last class, and ARE THE ONLY INSTANCES IN WHICH THE PROPOSED CONSTITUTION DIRECTLY CONTEMPLATES THE COGNIZANCE OF DISPUTES BETWEEN THE CITIZENS OF THE SAME STATE. Seventh. To cases between a State and the citizens thereof, and foreign States, citizens, or subjects. These have been already explained to belong to the fourth of the enumerated classes, and have been shown to be, in a peculiar manner, the proper subjects of the national judicature. From this review of the particular powers of the federal judiciary, as marked out in the Constitution, it appears that they are all conformable to the principles which ought to have governed the structure of that department, and which were necessary to the perfection of the system. If some partial inconviences should appear to be connected with the incorporation of any of them into the plan, it ought to be recollected that the national legislature will have ample authority to make such EXCEPTIONS, and to prescribe such regulations as will be calculated to obviate or remove these inconveniences. The possibility of particular mischiefs can never be viewed, by a wellinformed mind, as a solid objection to a general principle, which is calculated to avoid general mischiefs and to obtain general advantages. PUBLIUS. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXXI. The Judiciary Continued, and the Distribution of the Judicial Authority From McLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: Let us now return to the partition of the judiciary authority between different courts, and their relations to each other, The judicial power of the United States is (by the plan of the convention) to be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress may, from time to time, ordain and establish.1 That there ought to be one court of supreme and final jurisdiction, is a proposition which is not likely to be contested. The reasons for it have been assigned in another place, and are too obvious to need repetition. The only question that seems to have been raised concerning it, is, whether it ought to be a distinct body or a branch of the legislature. The same contradiction is observable in regard to this matter which has been remarked in several other cases. The very men who object to the Senate as a court of impeachments, on the ground of an improper intermixture of powers, advocate, by implication at least, the propriety of vesting the ultimate decision of all causes, in the whole or in a part of the legislative body. The arguments, or rather suggestions, upon which this charge is founded, are to this effect: The authority of the proposed Supreme Court of the United States, which is to be a separate and independent body, will be superior to that of the legislature. The power of construing the laws according to the SPIRIT of the Constitution, will enable that court to mould them into whatever shape it may think proper; especially as its decisions will not be in any manner subject to the revision or correction of the legislative body. This is as unprecedented as it is dangerous. In Britain, the judical power, in the last resort, resides in the House of Lords, which is a branch of the legislature; and this part of the British government has been imitated in the State constitutions in general. The Parliament of Great Britain, and the legislatures of the several States, can at any time rectify, by law, the exceptionable decisions of their respective courts. But the errors and usurpations of the Supreme Court of the United States will be uncontrollable and remediless. This, upon examination, will be found to be made up altogether of false reasoning upon misconceived fact. In the first place, there is not a syllable in the plan under consideration which DIRECTLY empowers the national courts to construe the laws according to the spirit of the Constitution, or which gives them any greater latitude in this respect than may be claimed by the courts of every State. I admit, however, that the Constitution ought to be the standard of construction for the laws, and that wherever there is an evident opposition, the laws ought to give place to the Constitution. But this doctrine is not deducible from any circumstance peculiar to the plan of the convention, but from the general theory of a limited Constitution; and as far as it is true, is equally applicable to most, if not to all the State governments. There can be no objection, therefore, on this account, to the federal judicature which will not lie against the local judicatures in general, and which will not serve to condemn every constitution that attempts to set bounds to legislative discretion. But perhaps the force of the objection may be thought to consist in the particular organization of the Supreme Court; in its being composed of a distinct body of magistrates, instead of being one of the branches of the legislature, as in the government of Great Britain and that of the State. To insist upon this point, the authors of the objection must renounce the meaning they have labored to annex to the celebrated maxim, requiring a separation of the departments of power. It shall, nevertheless, be conceded to them, agreeably to the interpretation given to that maxim in the course of these papers, that it is not violated by vesting the ultimate power of judging in a PART of the legislative body. But though this be not an absolute violation of that excellent rule, yet it verges so nearly upon it, as on this account alone to be less eligible than the mode preferred by the convention. From a body which had even a partial agency in passing bad laws, we could rarely expect a disposition to temper and moderate them in the application. The same spirit which had operated in making them, would be too apt in interpreting them; still less could it be expected that men who had infringed the Constitution in the character of legislators, would be disposed to repair the breach in the character of judges. Nor is this all. Every reason which recommends the tenure of good behavior for judicial offices, militates against placing the judiciary power, in the last resort, in a body composed of men chosen for a limited period. There is an absurdity in referring the determination of causes, in the first instance, to judges of permanent standing; in the last, to those of a temporary and mutable constitution. And there is a still greater absurdity in subjecting the decisions of men, selected for their knowledge of the laws, acquired by long and laborious study, to the revision and control of men who, for want of the same advantage, cannot but be deficient in that knowledge. The members of the legislature will rarely be chosen with a view to those qualifications which fit men for the stations of judges; and as, on this account, there will be great reason to apprehend all the ill consequences of defective information, so, on account of the natural propensity of such bodies to party divisions, there will be no less reason to fear that the pestilential breath of faction may poison the fountains of justice. The habit of being continually marshalled on opposite sides will be too apt to stifle the voice both of law and of equity. These considerations teach us to applaud the wisdom of those States who have committed the judicial power, in the last resort, not to a part of the legislature, but to distinct and independent bodies of men. Contrary to the supposition of those who have represented the plan of the convention, in this respect, as novel and unprecedented, it is but a copy of the constitutions of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia; and the preference which has been given to those models is highly to be commended. It is not true, in the second place, that the Parliament of Great Britain, or the legislatures of the particular States, can rectify the exceptionable decisions of their respective courts, in any other sense than might be done by a future legislature of the United States. The theory, neither of the British, nor the State constitutions, authorizes the revisal of a judicial sentence by a legislative act. Nor is there any thing in the proposed Constitution, more than in either of them, by which it is forbidden. In the former, as well as in the latter, the impropriety of the thing, on the general principles of law and reason, is the sole obstacle. A legislature, without exceeding its province, cannot reverse a determination once made in a particular case; though it may prescribe a new rule for future cases. This is the principle, and it applies in all its consequences, exactly in the same manner and extent, to the State governments, as to the national government now under consideration. Not the least difference can be pointed out in any view of the subject. It may in the last place be observed that the supposed danger of judiciary encroachments on the legislative authority, which has been upon many occasions reiterated, is in reality a phantom. Particular misconstructions and contraventions of the will of the legislature may now and then happen; but they can never be so extensive as to amount to an inconvenience, or in any sensible degree to affect the order of the political system. This may be inferred with certainty, from the general nature of the judicial power, from the objects to which it relates, from the manner in which it is exercised, from its comparative weakness, and from its total incapacity to support its usurpations by force. And the inference is greatly fortified by the consideration of the important constitutional check which the power of instituting impeachments in one part of the legislative body, and of determining upon them in the other, would give to that body upon the members of the judicial department. This is alone a complete security. There never can be danger that the judges, by a series of deliberate usurpations on the authority of the legislature, would hazard the united resentment of the body intrusted with it, while this body was possessed of the means of punishing their presumption, by degrading them from their stations. While this ought to remove all apprehensions on the subject, it affords, at the same time, a cogent argument for constituting the Senate a court for the trial of impeachments. Having now examined, and, I trust, removed the objections to the distinct and independent organization of the Supreme Court, I proceed to consider the propriety of the power of constituting inferior courts,2 and the relations which will subsist between these and the former. The power of constituting inferior courts is evidently calculated to obviate the necessity of having recourse to the Supreme Court in every case of federal cognizance. It is intended to enable the national government to institute or AUTHORUZE, in each State or district of the United States, a tribunal competent to the determination of matters of national jurisdiction within its limits. But why, it is asked, might not the same purpose have been accomplished by the instrumentality of the State courts? This admits of different answers. Though the fitness and competency of those courts should be allowed in the utmost latitude, yet the substance of the power in question may still be regarded as a necessary part of the plan, if it were only to empower the national legislature to commit to them the cognizance of causes arising out of the national Constitution. To confer the power of determining such causes upon the existing courts of the several States, would perhaps be as much to constitute tribunals, as to create new courts with the like power. But ought not a more direct and explicit provision to have been made in favor of the State courts? There are, in my opinion, substantial reasons against such a provision: the most discerning cannot foresee how far the prevalency of a local spirit may be found to disqualify the local tribunals for the jurisdiction of national causes; whilst every man may discover, that courts constituted like those of some of the States would be improper channels of the judicial authority of the Union. State judges, holding their offices during pleasure, or from year to year, will be too little independent to be relied upon for an inflexible execution of the national laws. And if there was a necessity for confiding the original cognizance of causes arising under those laws to them there would be a correspondent necessity for leaving the door of appeal as wide as possible. In proportion to the grounds of confidence in, or distrust of, the subordinate tribunals, ought to be the facility or difficulty of appeals. And well satisfied as I am of the propriety of the appellate jurisdiction, in the several classes of causes to which it is extended by the plan of the convention. I should consider every thing calculated to give, in practice, an UNRESTRAINED COURSE to appeals, as a source of public and private inconvenience. I am not sure, but that it will be found highly expedient and useful, to divide the United States into four or five or half a dozen districts; and to institute a federal court in each district, in lieu of one in every State. The judges of these courts, with the aid of the State judges, may hold circuits for the trial of causes in the several parts of the respective districts. Justice through them may be administered with ease and despatch; and appeals may be safely circumscribed within a narrow compass. This plan appears to me at present the most eligible of any that could be adopted; and in order to it, it is necessary that the power of constituting inferior courts should exist in the full extent in which it is to be found in the proposed Constitution. These reasons seem sufficient to satisfy a candid mind, that the want of such a power would have been a great defect in the plan. Let us now examine in what manner the judicial authority is to be distributed between the supreme and the inferior courts of the Union. The Supreme Court is to be invested with original jurisdiction, only in cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls, and those in which A STATE shall be a party. Public ministers of every class are the immediate representatives of their sovereigns. All questions in which they are concerned are so directly connected with the public peace, that, as well for the preservation of this, as out of respect to the sovereignties they represent, it is both expedient and proper that such questions should be submitted in the first instance to the highest judicatory of the nation. Though consuls have not in strictness a diplomatic character, yet as they are the public agents of the nations to which they belong, the same observation is in a great measure applicable to them. In cases in which a State might happen to be a party, it would ill suit its dignity to be turned over to an inferior tribunal. Though it may rather be a digression from the immediate subject of this paper, I shall take occasion to mention here a supposition which has excited some alarm upon very mistaken grounds. It has been suggested that an assignment of the public securities of one State to the citizens of another, would enable them to prosecute that State in the federal courts for the amount of those securities; a suggestion which the following considerations prove to be without foundation. It is inherent in the nature of sovereignty not to be amenable to the suit of an individual WITHOUT ITS CONSENT. This is the general sense, and the general practice of mankind; and the exemption, as one of the attributes of sovereignty, is now enjoyed by the government of every State in the Union. Unless, therefore, there is a surrender of this immunity in the plan of the convention, it will remain with the States, and the danger intimated must be merely ideal. The circumstances which are necessary to produce an alienation of State sovereignty were discussed in considering the article of taxation, and need not be repeated here. A recurrence to the principles there established will satisfy us, that there is no color to pretend that the State governments would, by the adoption of that plan, be divested of the privilege of paying their own debts in their own way, free from every constraint but that which flows from the obligations of good faith. The contracts between a nation and individuals are only binding on the conscience of the sovereign, and have no pretensions to a compulsive force. They confer no right of action, independent of the sovereign will. To what purpose would it be to authorize suits against States for the debts they owe? How could recoveries be enforced? It is evident, it could not be done without waging war against the contracting State; and to ascribe to the federal courts, by mere implication, and in destruction of a preexisting right of the State governments, a power which would involve such a consequence, would be altogether forced and unwarrantable. Let us resume the train of our observations. We have seen that the original jurisdiction of the Supreme Court would be confined to two classes of causes, and those of a nature rarely to occur. In all other cases of federal cognizance, the original jurisdiction would appertain to the inferior tribunals; and the Supreme Court would have nothing more than an appellate jurisdiction, with such EXCEPTIONS and under such REGULATIONS as the Congress shall make. The propriety of this appellate jurisdiction has been scarcely called in question in regard to matters of law; but the clamors have been loud against it as applied to matters of fact. Some wellintentioned men in this State, deriving their notions from the language and forms which obtain in our courts, have been induced to consider it as an implied supersedure of the trial by jury, in favor of the civillaw mode of trial, which prevails in our courts of admiralty, probate, and chancery. A technical sense has been affixed to the term appellate, which, in our law parlance, is commonly used in reference to appeals in the course of the civil law. But if I am not misinformed, the same meaning would not be given to it in any part of New England. There an appeal from one jury to another, is familiar both in language and practice, and is even a matter of course, until there have been two verdicts on one side. The word appellate, therefore, will not be understood in the same sense in New England as in New York, which shows the impropriety of a technical interpretation derived from the jurisprudence of any particular State. The expression, taken in the abstract, denotes nothing more than the power of one tribunal to review the proceedings of another, either as to the law or fact, or both. The mode of doing it may depend on ancient custom or legislative provision (in a new government it must depend on the latter), and may be with or without the aid of a jury, as may be judged advisable. If, therefore, the reexamination of a fact once determined by a jury, should in any case be admitted under the proposed Constitution, it may be so regulated as to be done by a second jury, either by remanding the cause to the court below for a second trial of the fact, or by directing an issue immediately out of the Supreme Court. But it does not follow that the reexamination of a fact once ascertained by a jury, will be permitted in the Supreme Court. Why may not it be said, with the strictest propriety, when a writ of error is brought from an inferior to a superior court of law in this State, that the latter has jurisdiction of the fact as well as the law? It is true it cannot institute a new inquiry concerning the fact, but it takes cognizance of it as it appears upon the record, and pronounces the law arising upon it.3 This is jurisdiction of both fact and law; nor is it even possible to separate them. Though the commonlaw courts of this State ascertain disputed facts by a jury, yet they unquestionably have jurisdiction of both fact and law; and accordingly when the former is agreed in the pleadings, they have no recourse to a jury, but proceed at once to judgment. I contend, therefore, on this ground, that the expressions, appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact, do not necessarily imply a reexamination in the Supreme Court of facts decided by juries in the inferior courts. The following train of ideas may well be imagined to have influenced the convention, in relation to this particular provision. The appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court (it may have been argued) will extend to causes determinable in different modes, some in the course of the COMMON LAW, others in the course of the CIVIL LAW. In the former, the revision of the law only will be, generally speaking, the proper province of the Supreme Court; in the latter, the reexamination of the fact is agreeable to usage, and in some cases, of which prize causes are an example, might be essential to the preservation of the public peace. It is therefore necessary that the appellate jurisdiction should, in certain cases, extend in the broadest sense to matters of fact. It will not answer to make an express exception of cases which shall have been originally tried by a jury, because in the courts of some of the States ALL CAUSES are tried in this mode;4 and such an exception would preclude the revision of matters of fact, as well where it might be proper, as where it might be improper. To avoid all inconveniencies, it will be safest to declare generally, that the Supreme Court shall possess appellate jurisdiction both as to law and FACT, and that this jurisdiction shall be subject to such EXCEPTIONS and regulations as the national legislature may prescribe. This will enable the government to modify it in such a manner as will best answer the ends of public justice and security. This view of the matter, at any rate, puts it out of all doubt that the supposed ABOLITION of the trial by jury, by the operation of this provision, is fallacious and untrue. The legislature of the United States would certainly have full power to provide, that in appeals to the Supreme Court there should be no reexamination of facts where they had been tried in the original causes by juries. This would certainly be an authorized exception; but if, for the reason already intimated, it should be thought too extensive, it might be qualified with a limitation to such causes only as are determinable at common law in that mode of trial. The amount of the observations hitherto made on the authority of the judicial department is this: that it has been carefully restricted to those causes which are manifestly proper for the cognizance of the national judicature; that in the partition of this authority a very small portion of original jurisdiction has been preserved to the Supreme Court, and the rest consigned to the subordinate tribunals; that the Supreme Court will possess an appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact, in all the cases referred to them, both subject to any EXCEPTIONS and REGULATIONS which may be thought advisable; that this appellate jurisdiction does, in no case, ABOLISH the trial by jury; and that an ordinary degree of prudence and integrity in the national councils will insure us solid advantages from the establishment of the proposed judiciary, without exposing us to any of the inconveniences which have been predicted from that source. PUBLIUS. 1 Article 3, sec. 1. 2 This power has been absurdly represented as intended to abolish all the county courts in the several States, which are commonly called inferior courts. But the expressions of the Constitution are, to constitute tribunals INFERIOR TO THE SUPREME COURT; and the evident design of the provision is to enable the institution of local courts, subordinate to the Supreme, either in States or larger districts. It is ridiculous to imagine that county courts were in contemplation. 3 This word is composed of JUS and DICTIO, juris dictio or a speaking and pronouncing of the law. 4 I hold that the States will have concurrent jurisdiction with the subordinate federal judicatories, in many cases of federal cognizance, as will be explained in my next paper. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXXII. The Judiciary Continued From McLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The erection of a new government, whatever care or wisdom may distinguish the work, cannot fail to originate questions of intricacy and nicety; and these may, in a particular manner, be expected to flow from the establishment of a constitution founded upon the total or partial incorporation of a number of distinct sovereignties. T is time only that can mature and perfect so compound a system, can liquidate the meaning of all the parts, and can adjust them to each other in a harmonious and consistent WHOLE. Such questions, accordingly, have arisen upon the plan proposed by the convention, and particularly concerning the judiciary department. The principal of these respect the situation of the State courts in regard to those causes which are to be submitted to federal jurisdiction. Is this to be exclusive, or are those courts to possess a concurrent jurisdiction? If the latter, in what relation will they stand to the national tribunals? These are inquiries which we meet with in the mouths of men of sense, and which are certainly entitled to attention. The principles established in a former paper1 teach us that the States will retain all PREEXISTING authorities which may not be exclusively delegated to the federal head; and that this exclusive delegation can only exist in one of three cases: where an exclusive authority is, in express terms, granted to the Union; or where a particular authority is granted to the Union, and the exercise of a like authority is prohibited to the States; or where an authority is granted to the Union, with which a similar authority in the States would be utterly incompatible. Though these principles may not apply with the same force to the judiciary as to the legislative power, yet I am inclined to think that they are, in the main, just with respect to the former, as well as the latter. And under this impression, I shall lay it down as a rule, that the State courts will RETAIN the jurisdiction they now have, unless it appears to be taken away in one of the enumerated modes. The only thing in the proposed Constitution, which wears the appearance of confining the causes of federal cognizance to the federal courts, is contained in this passage: The JUDICIAL POWER of the United States SHALL BE VESTED in one Supreme Court, and in SUCH inferior courts as the Congress shall from time to time ordain and establish. This might either be construed to signify, that the supreme and subordinate courts of the Union should alone have the power of deciding those causes to which their authority is to extend; or simply to denote, that the organs of the national judiciary should be one Supreme Court, and as many subordinate courts as Congress should think proper to appoint; or in other words, that the United States should exercise the judicial power with which they are to be invested, through one supreme tribunal, and a certain number of inferior ones, to be instituted by them. The first excludes, the last admits, the concurrent jurisdiction of the State tribunals; and as the first would amount to an alienation of State power by implication, the last appears to me the most natural and the most defensible construction. But this doctrine of concurrent jurisdiction is only clearly applicable to those descriptions of causes of which the State courts have previous cognizance. It is not equally evident in relation to cases which may grow out of, and be PECULIAR to, the Constitution to be established; for not to allow the State courts a right of jurisdiction in such cases, can hardly be considered as the abridgment of a preexisting authority. I mean not therefore to contend that the United States, in the course of legislation upon the objects intrusted to their direction, may not commit the decision of causes arising upon a particular regulation to the federal courts solely, if such a measure should be deemed expedient; but I hold that the State courts will be divested of no part of their primitive jurisdiction, further than may relate to an appeal; and I am even of opinion that in every case in which they were not expressly excluded by the future acts of the national legislature, they will of course take cognizance of the causes to which those acts may give birth. This I infer from the nature of judiciary power, and from the general genius of the system. The judiciary power of every government looks beyond its own local or municipal laws, and in civil cases lays hold of all subjects of litigation between parties within its jurisdiction, though the causes of dispute are relative to the laws of the most distant part of the globe. Those of Japan, not less than of New York, may furnish the objects of legal discussion to our courts. When in addition to this we consider the State governments and the national governments, as they truly are, in the light of kindred systems, and as parts of ONE WHOLE, the inference seems to be conclusive, that the State courts would have a concurrent jurisdiction in all cases arising under the laws of the Union, where it was not expressly prohibited. Here another question occurs: What relation would subsist between the national and State courts in these instances of concurrent jurisdiction? I answer, that an appeal would certainly lie from the latter, to the Supreme Court of the United States. The Constitution in direct terms gives an appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court in all the enumerated cases of federal cognizance in which it is not to have an original one, without a single expression to confine its operation to the inferior federal courts. The objects of appeal, not the tribunals from which it is to be made, are alone contemplated. From this circumstance, and from the reason of the thing, it ought to be construed to extend to the State tribunals. Either this must be the case, or the local courts must be excluded from a concurrent jurisdiction in matters of national concern, else the judiciary authority of the Union may be eluded at the pleasure of every plaintiff or prosecutor. Neither of these consequences ought, without evident necessity, to be involved; the latter would be entirely inadmissible, as it would defeat some of the most important and avowed purposes of the proposed government, and would essentially embarrass its measures. Nor do I perceive any foundation for such a supposition. Agreeably to the remark already made, the national and State systems are to be regarded as ONE WHOLE. The courts of the latter will of course be natural auxiliaries to the execution of the laws of the Union, and an appeal from them will as naturally lie to that tribunal which is destined to unite and assimilate the principles of national justice and the rules of national decisions. The evident aim of the plan of the convention is, that all the causes of the specified classes shall, for weighty public reasons, receive their original or final determination in the courts of the Union. To confine, therefore, the general expressions giving appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court, to appeals from the subordinate federal courts, instead of allowing their extension to the State courts, would be to abridge the latitude of the terms, in subversion of the intent, contrary to every sound rule of interpretation. But could an appeal be made to lie from the State courts to the subordinate federal judicatories? This is another of the questions which have been raised, and of greater difficulty than the former. The following considerations countenance the affirmative. The plan of the convention, in the first place, authorizes the national legislature to constitute tribunals inferior to the Supreme Court.2 It declares, in the next place, that the JUDICIAL POWER of the United States SHALL BE VESTED in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as Congress shall ordain and establish; and it then proceeds to enumerate the cases to which this judicial power shall extend. It afterwards divides the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court into original and appellate, but gives no definition of that of the subordinate courts. The only outlines described for them, are that they shall be inferior to the Supreme Court, and that they shall not exceed the specified limits of the federal judiciary. Whether their authority shall be original or appellate, or both, is not declared. All this seems to be left to the discretion of the legislature. And this being the case, I perceive at present no impediment to the establishment of an appeal from the State courts to the subordinate national tribunals; and many advantages attending the power of doing it may be imagined. It would diminish the motives to the multiplication of federal courts, and would admit of arrangements calculated to contract the appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. The State tribunals may then be left with a more entire charge of federal causes; and appeals, in most cases in which they may be deemed proper, instead of being carried to the Supreme Court, may be made to lie from the State courts to district courts of the Union. PUBLIUS. 1 No. 32. 2 Section 8, Article 1. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXXIII. The Judiciary Continued in Relation to Trial by Jury From MCLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: The objection to the plan of the convention, which has met with most success in this State, and perhaps in several of the other States, is THAT RELATIVE TO THE WANT OF A CONSTITUTIONAL PROVISION for the trial by jury in civil cases. The disingenuous form in which this objection is usually stated has been repeatedly adverted to and exposed, but continues to be pursued in all the conversations and writings of the opponents of the plan. The mere silence of the Constitution in regard to CIVIL CAUSES, is represented as an abolition of the trial by jury, and the declamations to which it has afforded a pretext are artfully calculated to induce a persuasion that this pretended abolition is complete and universal, extending not only to every species of civil, but even to CRIMINAL CAUSES. To argue with respect to the latter would, however, be as vain and fruitless as to attempt the serious proof of the EXISTENCE of MATTER, or to demonstrate any of those propositions which, by their own internal evidence, force conviction, when expressed in language adapted to convey their meaning. With regard to civil causes, subtleties almost too contemptible for refutation have been employed to countenance the surmise that a thing which is only NOT PROVIDED FOR, is entirely ABOLISHED. Every man of discernment must at once perceive the wide difference between SILENCE and ABOLITION. But as the inventors of this fallacy have attempted to support it by certain LEGAL MAXIMS of interpretation, which they have perverted from their true meaning, it may not be wholly useless to explore the ground they have taken. The maxims on which they rely are of this nature: A specification of particulars is an exclusion of generals; or, The expression of one thing is the exclusion of another. Hence, say they, as the Constitution has established the trial by jury in criminal cases, and is silent in respect to civil, this silence is an implied prohibition of trial by jury in regard to the latter. The rules of legal interpretation are rules of COMMONSENSE, adopted by the courts in the construction of the laws. The true test, therefore, of a just application of them is its conformity to the source from which they are derived. This being the case, let me ask if it is consistent with commonsense to suppose that a provision obliging the legislative power to commit the trial of criminal causes to juries, is a privation of its right to authorize or permit that mode of trial in other cases? Is it natural to suppose, that a command to do one thing is a prohibition to the doing of another, which there was a previous power to do, and which is not incompatible with the thing commanded to be done? If such a supposition would be unnatural and unreasonable, it cannot be rational to maintain that an injunction of the trial by jury in certain cases is an interdiction of it in others. A power to constitute courts is a power to prescribe the mode of trial; and consequently, if nothing was said in the Constitution on the subject of juries, the legislature would be at liberty either to adopt that institution or to let it alone. This discretion, in regard to criminal causes, is abridged by the express injunction of trial by jury in all such cases; but it is, of course, left at large in relation to civil causes, there being a total silence on this head. The specification of an obligation to try all criminal causes in a particular mode, excludes indeed the obligation or necessity of employing the same mode in civil causes, but does not abridge THE POWER of the legislature to exercise that mode if it should be thought proper. The pretense, therefore, that the national legislature would not be at full liberty to submit all the civil causes of federal cognizance to the determination of juries, is a pretense destitute of all just foundation. From these observations this conclusion results: that the trial by jury in civil cases would not be abolished; and that the use attempted to be made of the maxims which have been quoted, is contrary to reason and commonsense, and therefore not admissible. Even if these maxims had a precise technical sense, corresponding with the idea of those who employ them upon the present occasion, which, however, is not the case, they would still be inapplicable to a constitution of government. In relation to such a subject, the natural and obvious sense of its provisions, apart from any technical rules, is the true criterion of construction. Having now seen that the maxims relied upon will not bear the use made of them, let us endeavor to ascertain their proper use and true meaning. This will be best done by examples. The plan of the convention declares that the power of Congress, or, in other words, of the NATIONAL LEGISLATURE, shall extend to certain enumerated cases. This specification of particulars evidently excludes all pretension to a general legislative authority, because an affirmative grant of special powers would be absurd, as well as useless, if a general authority was intended. In like manner the judicial authority of the federal judicatures is declared by the Constitution to comprehend certain cases particularly specified. The expression of those cases marks the precise limits, beyond which the federal courts cannot extend their jurisdiction, because the objects of their cognizance being enumerated, the specification would be nugatory if it did not exclude all ideas of more extensive authority. These examples are sufficient to elucidate the maxims which have been mentioned, and to designate the manner in which they should be used. But that there may be no misapprehensions upon this subject, I shall add one case more, to demonstrate the proper use of these maxims, and the abuse which has been made of them. Let us suppose that by the laws of this State a married woman was incapable of conveying her estate, and that the legislature, considering this as an evil, should enact that she might dispose of her property by deed executed in the presence of a magistrate. In such a case there can be no doubt but the specification would amount to an exclusion of any other mode of conveyance, because the woman having no previous power to alienate her property, the specification determines the particular mode which she is, for that purpose, to avail herself of. But let us further suppose that in a subsequent part of the same act it should be declared that no woman should dispose of any estate of a determinate value without the consent of three of her nearest relations, signified by their signing the deed; could it be inferred from this regulation that a married woman might not procure the approbation of her relations to a deed for conveying property of inferior value? The position is too absurd to merit a refutation, and yet this is precisely the position which those must establish who contend that the trial by juries in civil cases is abolished, because it is expressly provided for in cases of a criminal nature. From these observations it must appear unquestionably true, that trial by jury is in no case abolished by the proposed Constitution, and it is equally true, that in those controversies between individuals in which the great body of the people are likely to be interested, that institution will remain precisely in the same situation in which it is placed by the State constitutions, and will be in no degree altered or influenced by the adoption of the plan under consideration. The foundation of this assertion is, that the national judiciary will have no cognizance of them, and of course they will remain determinable as heretofore by the State courts only, and in the manner which the State constitutions and laws prescribe. All land causes, except where claims under the grants of different States come into question, and all other controversies between the citizens of the same State, unless where they depend upon positive violations of the articles of union, by acts of the State legislatures, will belong exclusively to the jurisdiction of the State tribunals. Add to this, that admiralty causes, and almost all those which are of equity jurisdiction, are determinable under our own government without the intervention of a jury, and the inference from the whole will be, that this institution, as it exists with us at present, cannot possibly be affected to any great extent by the proposed alteration in our system of government. The friends and adversaries of the plan of the convention, if they agree in nothing else, concur at least in the value they set upon the trial by jury; or if there is any difference between them it consists in this: the former regard it as a valuable safeguard to liberty; the latter represent it as the very palladium of free government. For my own part, the more the operation of the institution has fallen under my observation, the more reason I have discovered for holding it in high estimation; and it would be altogether superfluous to examine to what extent it deserves to be esteemed useful or essential in a representative republic, or how much more merit it may be entitled to, as a defense against the oppressions of an hereditary monarch, than as a barrier to the tyranny of popular magistrates in a popular government. Discussions of this kind would be more curious than beneficial, as all are satisfied of the utility of the institution, and of its friendly aspect to liberty. But I must acknowledge that I cannot readily discern the inseparable connection between the existence of liberty, and the trial by jury in civil cases. Arbitrary impeachments, arbitrary methods of prosecuting pretended offenses, and arbitrary punishments upon arbitrary convictions, have ever appeared to me to be the great engines of judicial despotism; and these have all relation to criminal proceedings. The trial by jury in criminal cases, aided by the habeascorpus act, seems therefore to be alone concerned in the question. And both of these are provided for, in the most ample manner, in the plan of the convention. It has been observed, that trial by jury is a safeguard against an oppressive exercise of the power of taxation. This observation deserves to be canvassed. It is evident that it can have no influence upon the legislature, in regard to the AMOUNT of taxes to be laid, to the OBJECTS upon which they are to be imposed, or to the RULE by which they are to be apportioned. If it can have any influence, therefore, it must be upon the mode of collection, and the conduct of the officers intrusted with the execution of the revenue laws. As to the mode of collection in this State, under our own Constitution, the trial by jury is in most cases out of use. The taxes are usually levied by the more summary proceeding of distress and sale, as in cases of rent. And it is acknowledged on all hands, that this is essential to the efficacy of the revenue laws. The dilatory course of a trial at law to recover the taxes imposed on individuals, would neither suit the exigencies of the public nor promote the convenience of the citizens. It would often occasion an accumulation of costs, more burdensome than the original sum of the tax to be levied. And as to the conduct of the officers of the revenue, the provision in favor of trial by jury in criminal cases, will afford the security aimed at. Wilful abuses of a public authority, to the oppression of the subject, and every species of official extortion, are offenses against the government, for which the persons who commit them may be indicted and punished according to the circumstances of the case. The excellence of the trial by jury in civil cases appears to depend on circumstances foreign to the preservation of liberty. The strongest argument in its favor is, that it is a security against corruption. As there is always more time and better opportunity to tamper with a standing body of magistrates than with a jury summoned for the occasion, there is room to suppose that a corrupt influence would more easily find its way to the former than to the latter. The force of this consideration is, however, diminished by others. The sheriff, who is the summoner of ordinary juries, and the clerks of courts, who have the nomination of special juries, are themselves standing officers, and, acting individually, may be supposed more accessible to the touch of corruption than the judges, who are a collective body. It is not difficult to see, that it would be in the power of those officers to select jurors who would serve the purpose of the party as well as a corrupted bench. In the next place, it may fairly be supposed, that there would be less difficulty in gaining some of the jurors promiscuously taken from the public mass, than in gaining men who had been chosen by the government for their probity and good character. But making every deduction for these considerations, the trial by jury must still be a valuable check upon corruption. It greatly multiplies the impediments to its success. As matters now stand, it would be necessary to corrupt both court and jury; for where the jury have gone evidently wrong, the court will generally grant a new trial, and it would be in most cases of little use to practice upon the jury, unless the court could be likewise gained. Here then is a double security; and it will readily be perceived that this complicated agency tends to preserve the purity of both institutions. By increasing the obstacles to success, it discourages attempts to seduce the integrity of either. The temptations to prostitution which the judges might have to surmount, must certainly be much fewer, while the cooperation of a jury is necessary, than they might be, if they had themselves the exclusive determination of all causes. Notwithstanding, therefore, the doubts I have expressed, as to the essentiality of trial by jury in civil cases to liberty, I admit that it is in most cases, under proper regulations, an excellent method of determining questions of property; and that on this account alone it would be entitled to a constitutional provision in its favor if it were possible to fix the limits within which it ought to be comprehended. There is, however, in all cases, great difficulty in this; and men not blinded by enthusiasm must be sensible that in a federal government, which is a composition of societies whose ideas and institutions in relation to the matter materially vary from each other, that difficulty must be not a little augmented. For my own part, at every new view I take of the subject, I become more convinced of the reality of the obstacles which, we are authoritatively informed, prevented the insertion of a provision on this head in the plan of the convention. The great difference between the limits of the jury trial in different States is not generally understood; and as it must have considerable influence on the sentence we ought to pass upon the omission complained of in regard to this point, an explanation of it is necessary. In this State, our judicial establishments resemble, more nearly than in any other, those of Great Britain. We have courts of common law, courts of probates (analogous in certain matters to the spiritual courts in England), a court of admiralty and a court of chancery. In the courts of common law only, the trial by jury prevails, and this with some exceptions. In all the others a single judge presides, and proceeds in general either according to the course of the canon or civil law, without the aid of a jury.1 In New Jersey, there is a court of chancery which proceeds like ours, but neither courts of admiralty nor of probates, in the sense in which these last are established with us. In that State the courts of common law have the cognizance of those causes which with us are determinable in the courts of admiralty and of probates, and of course the jury trial is more extensive in New Jersey than in New York. In Pennsylvania, this is perhaps still more the case, for there is no court of chancery in that State, and its commonlaw courts have equity jurisdiction. It has a court of admiralty, but none of probates, at least on the plan of ours. Delaware has in these respects imitated Pennsylvania. Maryland approaches more nearly to New York, as does also Virginia, except that the latter has a plurality of chancellors. North Carolina bears most affinity to Pennsylvania; South Carolina to Virginia. I believe, however, that in some of those States which have distinct courts of admiralty, the causes depending in them are triable by juries. In Georgia there are none but commonlaw courts, and an appeal of course lies from the verdict of one jury to another, which is called a special jury, and for which a particular mode of appointment is marked out. In Connecticut, they have no distinct courts either of chancery or of admiralty, and their courts of probates have no jurisdiction of causes. Their commonlaw courts have admiralty and, to a certain extent, equity jurisdiction. In cases of importance, their General Assembly is the only court of chancery. In Connecticut, therefore, the trial by jury extends in PRACTICE further than in any other State yet mentioned. Rhode Island is, I believe, in this particular, pretty much in the situation of Connecticut. Massachusetts and New Hampshire, in regard to the blending of law, equity, and admiralty jurisdictions, are in a similar predicament. In the four Eastern States, the trial by jury not only stands upon a broader foundation than in the other States, but it is attended with a peculiarity unknown, in its full extent, to any of them. There is an appeal OF COURSE from one jury to another, till there have been two verdicts out of three on one side. From this sketch it appears that there is a material diversity, as well in the modification as in the extent of the institution of trial by jury in civil cases, in the several States; and from this fact these obvious reflections flow: first, that no general rule could have been fixed upon by the convention which would have corresponded with the circumstances of all the States; and secondly, that more or at least as much might have been hazarded by taking the system of any one State for a standard, as by omitting a provision altogether and leaving the matter, as has been done, to legislative regulation. The propositions which have been made for supplying the omission have rather served to illustrate than to obviate the difficulty of the thing. The minority of Pennsylvania have proposed this mode of expression for the purpose Trial by jury shall be as heretofore and this I maintain would be senseless and nugatory. The United States, in their united or collective capacity, are the OBJECT to which all general provisions in the Constitution must necessarily be construed to refer. Now it is evident that though trial by jury, with various limitations, is known in each State individually, yet in the United States, AS SUCH, it is at this time altogether unknown, because the present federal government has no judiciary power whatever; and consequently there is no proper antecedent or previous establishment to which the term HERETOFORE could relate. It would therefore be destitute of a precise meaning, and inoperative from its uncertainty. As, on the one hand, the form of the provision would not fulfil the intent of its proposers, so, on the other, if I apprehend that intent rightly, it would be in itself inexpedient. I presume it to be, that causes in the federal courts should be tried by jury, if, in the State where the courts sat, that mode of trial would obtain in a similar case in the State courts; that is to say, admiralty causes should be tried in Connecticut by a jury, in New York without one. The capricious operation of so dissimilar a method of trial in the same cases, under the same government, is of itself sufficient to indispose every wellregulated judgment towards it. Whether the cause should be tried with or without a jury, would depend, in a great number of cases, on the accidental situation of the court and parties. But this is not, in my estimation, the greatest objection. I feel a deep and deliberate conviction that there are many cases in which the trial by jury is an ineligible one. I think it so particularly in cases which concern the public peace with foreign nations that is, in most cases where the question turns wholly on the laws of nations. Of this nature, among others, are all prize causes. Juries cannot be supposed competent to investigations that require a thorough knowledge of the laws and usages of nations; and they will sometimes be under the influence of impressions which will not suffer them to pay sufficient regard to those considerations of public policy which ought to guide their inquiries. There would of course be always danger that the rights of other nations might be infringed by their decisions, so as to afford occasions of reprisal and war. Though the proper province of juries be to determine matters of fact, yet in most cases legal consequences are complicated with fact in such a manner as to render a separation impracticable. It will add great weight to this remark, in relation to prize causes, to mention that the method of determining them has been thought worthy of particular regulation in various treaties between different powers of Europe, and that, pursuant to such treaties, they are determinable in Great Britain, in the last resort, before the king himself, in his privy council, where the fact, as well as the law, undergoes a reexamination. This alone demonstrates the impolicy of inserting a fundamental provision in the Constitution which would make the State systems a standard for the national government in the article under consideration, and the danger of encumbering the government with any constitutional provisions the propriety of which is not indisputable. My convictions are equally strong that great advantages result from the separation of the equity from the law jurisdiction, and that the causes which belong to the former would be improperly committed to juries. The great and primary use of a court of equity is to give relief IN EXTRAORDINARY CASES, which are EXCEPTIONS2 to general rules. To unite the jurisdiction of such cases with the ordinary jurisdiction, must have a tendency to unsettle the general rules, and to subject every case that arises to a SPECIAL determination; while a separation of the one from the other has the contrary effect of rendering one a sentinel over the other, and of keeping each within the expedient limits. Besides this, the circumstances that constitute cases proper for courts of equity are in many instances so nice and intricate, that they are incompatible with the genius of trials by jury. They require often such long, deliberate, and critical investigation as would be impracticable to men called from their occupations, and obliged to decide before they were permitted to return to them. The simplicity and expedition which form the distinguishing characters of this mode of trial require that the matter to be decided should be reduced to some single and obvious point; while the litigations usual in chancery frequently comprehend a long train of minute and independent particulars. It is true that the separation of the equity from the legal jurisdiction is peculiar to the English system of jurisprudence: which is the model that has been followed in several of the States. But it is equally true that the trial by jury has been unknown in every case in which they have been united. And the separation is essential to the preservation of that institution in its pristine purity. The nature of a court of equity will readily permit the extension of its jurisdiction to matters of law; but it is not a little to be suspected, that the attempt to extend the jurisdiction of the courts of law to matters of equity will not only be unproductive of the advantages which may be derived from courts of chancery, on the plan upon which they are established in this State, but will tend gradually to change the nature of the courts of law, and to undermine the trial by jury, by introducing questions too complicated for a decision in that mode. These appeared to be conclusive reasons against incorporating the systems of all the States, in the formation of the national judiciary, according to what may be conjectured to have been the attempt of the Pennsylvania minority. Let us now examine how far the proposition of Massachusetts is calculated to remedy the supposed defect. It is in this form: In civil actions between citizens of different States, every issue of fact, arising in ACTIONS AT COMMON LAW, may be tried by a jury if the parties, or either of them request it. This, at best, is a proposition confined to one description of causes; and the inference is fair, either that the Massachusetts convention considered that as the only class of federal causes, in which the trial by jury would be proper; or that if desirous of a more extensive provision, they found it impracticable to devise one which would properly answer the end. If the first, the omission of a regulation respecting so partial an object can never be considered as a material imperfection in the system. If the last, it affords a strong corroboration of the extreme difficulty of the thing. But this is not all: if we advert to the observations already made respecting the courts that subsist in the several States of the Union, and the different powers exercised by them, it will appear that there are no expressions more vague and indeterminate than those which have been employed to characterize THAT species of causes which it is intended shall be entitled to a trial by jury. In this State, the boundaries between actions at common law and actions of equitable jurisdiction, are ascertained in conformity to the rules which prevail in England upon that subject. In many of the other States the boundaries are less precise. In some of them every cause is to be tried in a court of common law, and upon that foundation every action may be considered as an action at common law, to be determined by a jury, if the parties, or either of them, choose it. Hence the same irregularity and confusion would be introduced by a compliance with this proposition, that I have already noticed as resulting from the regulation proposed by the Pennsylvania minority. In one State a cause would receive its determination from a jury, if the parties, or either of them, requested it; but in another State, a cause exactly similar to the other, must be decided without the intervention of a jury, because the State judicatories varied as to commonlaw jurisdiction. It is obvious, therefore, that the Massachusetts proposition, upon this subject cannot operate as a general regulation, until some uniform plan, with respect to the limits of commonlaw and equitable jurisdictions, shall be adopted by the different States. To devise a plan of that kind is a task arduous in itself, and which it would require much time and reflection to mature. It would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to suggest any general regulation that would be acceptable to all the States in the Union, or that would perfectly quadrate with the several State institutions. It may be asked, Why could not a reference have been made to the constitution of this State, taking that, which is allowed by me to be a good one, as a standard for the United States? I answer that it is not very probable the other States would entertain the same opinion of our institutions as we do ourselves. It is natural to suppose that they are hitherto more attached to their own, and that each would struggle for the preference. If the plan of taking one State as a model for the whole had been thought of in the convention, it is to be presumed that the adoption of it in that body would have been rendered difficult by the predilection of each representation in favor of its own government; and it must be uncertain which of the States would have been taken as the model. It has been shown that many of them would be improper ones. And I leave it to conjecture, whether, under all circumstances, it is most likely that New York, or some other State, would have been preferred. But admit that a judicious selection could have been effected in the convention, still there would have been great danger of jealousy and disgust in the other States, at the partiality which had been shown to the institutions of one. The enemies of the plan would have been furnished with a fine pretext for raising a host of local prejudices against it, which perhaps might have hazarded, in no inconsiderable degree, its final establishment. To avoid the embarrassments of a definition of the cases which the trial by jury ought to embrace, it is sometimes suggested by men of enthusiastic tempers, that a provision might have been inserted for establishing it in all cases whatsoever. For this I believe, no precedent is to be found in any member of the Union; and the considerations which have been stated in discussing the proposition of the minority of Pennsylvania, must satisfy every sober mind that the establishment of the trial by jury in ALL cases would have been an unpardonable error in the plan. In short, the more it is considered the more arduous will appear the task of fashioning a provision in such a form as not to express too little to answer the purpose, or too much to be advisable; or which might not have opened other sources of opposition to the great and essential object of introducing a firm national government. I cannot but persuade myself, on the other hand, that the different lights in which the subject has been placed in the course of these observations, will go far towards removing in candid minds the apprehensions they may have entertained on the point. They have tended to show that the security of liberty is materially concerned only in the trial by jury in criminal cases, which is provided for in the most ample manner in the plan of the convention; that even in far the greatest proportion of civil cases, and those in which the great body of the community is interested, that mode of trial will remain in its full force, as established in the State constitutions, untouched and unaffected by the plan of the convention; that it is in no case abolished3 by that plan; and that there are great if not insurmountable difficulties in the way of making any precise and proper provision for it in a Constitution for the United States. The best judges of the matter will be the least anxious for a constitutional establishment of the trial by jury in civil cases, and will be the most ready to admit that the changes which are continually happening in the affairs of society may render a different mode of determining questions of property preferable in many cases in which that mode of trial now prevails. For my part, I acknowledge myself to be convinced that even in this State it might be advantageously extended to some cases to which it does not at present apply, and might as advantageously be abridged in others. It is conceded by all reasonable men that it ought not to obtain in all cases. The examples of innovations which contract its ancient limits, as well in these States as in Great Britain, afford a strong presumption that its former extent has been found inconvenient, and give room to suppose that future experience may discover the propriety and utility of other exceptions. I suspect it to be impossible in the nature of the thing to fix the salutary point at which the operation of the institution ought to stop, and this is with me a strong argument for leaving the matter to the discretion of the legislature. This is now clearly understood to be the case in Great Britain, and it is equally so in the State of Connecticut; and yet it may be safely affirmed that more numerous encroachments have been made upon the trial by jury in this State since the Revolution, though provided for by a positive article of our constitution, than has happened in the same time either in Connecticut or Great Britain. It may be added that these encroachments have generally originated with the men who endeavor to persuade the people they are the warmest defenders of popular liberty, but who have rarely suffered constitutional obstacles to arrest them in a favorite career. The truth is that the general GENIUS of a government is all that can be substantially relied upon for permanent effects. Particular provisions, though not altogether useless, have far less virtue and efficacy than are commonly ascribed to them; and the want of them will never be, with men of sound discernment, a decisive objection to any plan which exhibits the leading characters of a good government. It certainly sounds not a little harsh and extraordinary to affirm that there is no security for liberty in a Constitution which expressly establishes the trial by jury in criminal cases, because it does not do it in civil also; while it is a notorious fact that Connecticut, which has been always regarded as the most popular State in the Union, can boast of no constitutional provision for either. PUBLIUS. 1 It has been erroneously insinuated, with regard to the court of chancery, that this court generally tries disputed facts by a jury. The truth is, that references to a jury in that court rarely happen, and are in no case necessary but where the validity of a devise of land comes into question. 2 It is true that the principles by which that relief is governed are now reduced to a regular system; but it is not the less true that they are in the main applicable to SPECIAL circumstances, which form exceptions to general rules. 3 Vide No. 81, in which the supposition of its being abolished by the appellate jurisdiction in matters of fact being vested in the Supreme Court, is examined and refuted. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXXIV. Certain General and Miscellaneous Objections to the Constitution Considered and Answered From McLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: In the course of the foregoing review of the Constitution, I have taken notice of, and endeavored to answer most of the objections which have appeared against it. There, however, remain a few which either did not fall naturally under any particular head or were forgotten in their proper places. These shall now be discussed; but as the subject has been drawn into great length, I shall so far consult brevity as to comprise all my observations on these miscellaneous points in a single paper. The most considerable of the remaining objections is that the plan of the convention contains no bill of rights. Among other answers given to this, it has been upon different occasions remarked that the constitutions of several of the States are in a similar predicament. I add that New York is of the number. And yet the opposers of the new system, in this State, who profess an unlimited admiration for its constitution, are among the most intemperate partisans of a bill of rights. To justify their zeal in this matter, they allege two things: one is that, though the constitution of New York has no bill of rights prefixed to it, yet it contains, in the body of it, various provisions in favor of particular privileges and rights, which, in substance amount to the same thing; the other is, that the Constitution adopts, in their full extent, the common and statute law of Great Britain, by which many other rights, not expressed in it, are equally secured. To the first I answer, that the Constitution proposed by the convention contains, as well as the constitution of this State, a number of such provisions. Independent of those which relate to the structure of the government, we find the following: Article 1, section 3, clause 7 Judgment in cases of impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust, or profit under the United States; but the party convicted shall, nevertheless, be liable and subject to indictment, trial, judgment, and punishment according to law. Section 9, of the same article, clause 2 The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it. Clause 3 No bill of attainder or expostfacto law shall be passed. Clause 7 No title of nobility shall be granted by the United States; and no person holding any office of profit or trust under them, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state. Article 3, section 2, clause 3 The trial of all crimes, except in cases of impeachment, shall be by jury; and such trial shall be held in the State where the said crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the trial shall be at such place or places as the Congress may by law have directed. Section 3, of the same article Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason, unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court. And clause 3, of the same section The Congress shall have power to declare the punishment of treason; but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of blood, or forfeiture, except during the life of the person attainted. It may well be a question, whether these are not, upon the whole, of equal importance with any which are to be found in the constitution of this State. The establishment of the writ of habeas corpus, the prohibition of expostfacto laws, and of TITLES OF NOBILITY, TO WHICH WE HAVE NO CORRESPONDING PROVISION IN OUR CONSTITUTION, are perhaps greater securities to liberty and republicanism than any it contains. The creation of crimes after the commission of the fact, or, in other words, the subjecting of men to punishment for things which, when they were done, were breaches of no law, and the practice of arbitrary imprisonments, have been, in all ages, the favorite and most formidable instruments of tyranny. The observations of the judicious Blackstone,1 in reference to the latter, are well worthy of recital: To bereave a man of life, Usays he,e or by violence to confiscate his estate, without accusation or trial, would be so gross and notorious an act of despotism, as must at once convey the alarm of tyranny throughout the whole nation; but confinement of the person, by secretly hurrying him to jail, where his sufferings are unknown or forgotten, is a less public, a less striking, and therefore A MORE DANGEROUS ENGINE of arbitrary government. And as a remedy for this fatal evil he is everywhere peculiarly emphatical in his encomiums on the habeascorpus act, which in one place he calls the BULWARK of the British Constitution.2 Nothing need be said to illustrate the importance of the prohibition of titles of nobility. This may truly be denominated the cornerstone of republican government; for so long as they are excluded, there can never be serious danger that the government will be any other than that of the people. To the second that is, to the pretended establishment of the common and state law by the Constitution, I answer, that they are expressly made subject to such alterations and provisions as the legislature shall from time to time make concerning the same. They are therefore at any moment liable to repeal by the ordinary legislative power, and of course have no constitutional sanction. The only use of the declaration was to recognize the ancient law and to remove doubts which might have been occasioned by the Revolution. This consequently can be considered as no part of a declaration of rights, which under our constitutions must be intended as limitations of the power of the government itself. It has been several times truly remarked that bills of rights are, in their origin, stipulations between kings and their subjects, abridgements of prerogative in favor of privilege, reservations of rights not surrendered to the prince. Such was MAGNA CHARTA, obtained by the barons, sword in hand, from King John. Such were the subsequent confirmations of that charter by succeeding princes. Such was the PETITION OF RIGHT assented to by Charles I., in the beginning of his reign. Such, also, was the Declaration of Right presented by the Lords and Commons to the Prince of Orange in 1688, and afterwards thrown into the form of an act of parliament called the Bill of Rights. It is evident, therefore, that, according to their primitive signification, they have no application to constitutions professedly founded upon the power of the people, and executed by their immediate representatives and servants. Here, in strictness, the people surrender nothing; and as they retain every thing they have no need of particular reservations. WE, THE PEOPLE of the United States, to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ORDAIN and ESTABLISH this Constitution for the United States of America. Here is a better recognition of popular rights, than volumes of those aphorisms which make the principal figure in several of our State bills of rights, and which would sound much better in a treatise of ethics than in a constitution of government. But a minute detail of particular rights is certainly far less applicable to a Constitution like that under consideration, which is merely intended to regulate the general political interests of the nation, than to a constitution which has the regulation of every species of personal and private concerns. If, therefore, the loud clamors against the plan of the convention, on this score, are well founded, no epithets of reprobation will be too strong for the constitution of this State. But the truth is, that both of them contain all which, in relation to their objects, is reasonably to be desired. I go further, and affirm that bills of rights, in the sense and to the extent in which they are contended for, are not only unnecessary in the proposed Constitution, but would even be dangerous. They would contain various exceptions to powers not granted; and, on this very account, would afford a colorable pretext to claim more than were granted. For why declare that things shall not be done which there is no power to do? Why, for instance, should it be said that the liberty of the press shall not be restrained, when no power is given by which restrictions may be imposed? I will not contend that such a provision would confer a regulating power; but it is evident that it would furnish, to men disposed to usurp, a plausible pretense for claiming that power. They might urge with a semblance of reason, that the Constitution ought not to be charged with the absurdity of providing against the abuse of an authority which was not given, and that the provision against restraining the liberty of the press afforded a clear implication, that a power to prescribe proper regulations concerning it was intended to be vested in the national government. This may serve as a specimen of the numerous handles which would be given to the doctrine of constructive powers, by the indulgence of an injudicious zeal for bills of rights. On the subject of the liberty of the press, as much as has been said, I cannot forbear adding a remark or two: in the first place, I observe, that there is not a syllable concerning it in the constitution of this State; in the next, I contend, that whatever has been said about it in that of any other State, amounts to nothing. What signifies a declaration, that the liberty of the press shall be inviolably preserved? What is the liberty of the press? Who can give it any definition which would not leave the utmost latitude for evasion? I hold it to be impracticable; and from this I infer, that its security, whatever fine declarations may be inserted in any constitution respecting it, must altogether depend on public opinion, and on the general spirit of the people and of the government.3 And here, after all, as is intimated upon another occasion, must we seek for the only solid basis of all our rights. There remains but one other view of this matter to conclude the point. The truth is, after all the declamations we have heard, that the Constitution is itself, in every rational sense, and to every useful purpose, A BILL OF RIGHTS. The several bills of rights in Great Britain form its Constitution, and conversely the constitution of each State is its bill of rights. And the proposed Constitution, if adopted, will be the bill of rights of the Union. Is it one object of a bill of rights to declare and specify the political privileges of the citizens in the structure and administration of the government? This is done in the most ample and precise manner in the plan of the convention; comprehending various precautions for the public security, which are not to be found in any of the State constitutions. Is another object of a bill of rights to define certain immunities and modes of proceeding, which are relative to personal and private concerns? This we have seen has also been attended to, in a variety of cases, in the same plan. Adverting therefore to the substantial meaning of a bill of rights, it is absurd to allege that it is not to be found in the work of the convention. It may be said that it does not go far enough, though it will not be easy to make this appear; but it can with no propriety be contended that there is no such thing. It certainly must be immaterial what mode is observed as to the order of declaring the rights of the citizens, if they are to be found in any part of the instrument which establishes the government. And hence it must be apparent, that much of what has been said on this subject rests merely on verbal and nominal distinctions, entirely foreign from the substance of the thing. Another objection which has been made, and which, from the frequency of its repetition, it is to be presumed is relied on, is of this nature: It is improper, say the objectors, to confer such large powers, as are proposed, upon the national government, because the seat of that government must of necessity be too remote from many of the States to admit of a proper knowledge on the part of the constituent, of the conduct of the representative body. This argument, if it proves any thing, proves that there ought to be no general government whatever. For the powers which, it seems to be agreed on all hands, ought to be vested in the Union, cannot be safely intrusted to a body which is not under every requisite control. But there are satisfactory reasons to show that the objection is in reality not well founded. There is in most of the arguments which relate to distance a palpable illusion of the imagination. What are the sources of information by which the people in Montgomery County must regulate their judgment of the conduct of their representatives in the State legislature? Of personal observation they can have no benefit. This is confined to the citizens on the spot. They must therefore depend on the information of intelligent men, in whom they confide; and how must these men obtain their information? Evidently from the complexion of public measures, from the public prints, from correspondences with their representatives, and with other persons who reside at the place of their deliberations. This does not apply to Montgomery County only, but to all the counties at any considerable distance from the seat of government. It is equally evident that the same sources of information would be open to the people in relation to the conduct of their representatives in the general government, and the impediments to a prompt communication which distance may be supposed to create, will be overbalanced by the effects of the vigilance of the State governments. The executive and legislative bodies of each State will be so many sentinels over the persons employed in every department of the national administration; and as it will be in their power to adopt and pursue a regular and effectual system of intelligence, they can never be at a loss to know the behavior of those who represent their constituents in the national councils, and can readily communicate the same knowledge to the people. Their disposition to apprise the community of whatever may prejudice its interests from another quarter, may be relied upon, if it were only from the rivalship of power. And we may conclude with the fullest assurance that the people, through that channel, will be better informed of the conduct of their national representatives, than they can be by any means they now possess of that of their State representatives. It ought also to be remembered that the citizens who inhabit the country at and near the seat of government will, in all questions that affect the general liberty and prosperity, have the same interest with those who are at a distance, and that they will stand ready to sound the alarm when necessary, and to point out the actors in any pernicious project. The public papers will be expeditious messengers of intelligence to the most remote inhabitants of the Union. Among the many curious objections which have appeared against the proposed Constitution, the most extraordinary and the least colorable is derived from the want of some provision respecting the debts due TO the United States. This has been represented as a tacit relinquishment of those debts, and as a wicked contrivance to screen public defaulters. The newspapers have teemed with the most inflammatory railings on this head; yet there is nothing clearer than that the suggestion is entirely void of foundation, the offspring of extreme ignorance or extreme dishonesty. In addition to the remarks I have made upon the subject in another place, I shall only observe that as it is a plain dictate of commonsense, so it is also an established doctrine of political law, that STATES NEITHER LOSE ANY OF THEIR RIGHTS, NOR ARE DISCHARGED FROM ANY OF THEIR OBLIGATIONS, BY A CHANGE IN THE FORM OF THEIR CIVIL GOVERNMENT.4 The last objection of any consequence, which I at present recollect, turns upon the article of expense. If it were even true, that the adoption of the proposed government would occasion a considerable increase of expense, it would be an objection that ought to have no weight against the plan. The great bulk of the citizens of America are with reason convinced, that Union is the basis of their political happiness. Men of sense of all parties now, with few exceptions, agree that it cannot be preserved under the present system, nor without radical alterations; that new and extensive powers ought to be granted to the national head, and that these require a different organization of the federal government a single body being an unsafe depositary of such ample authorities. In conceding all this, the question of expense must be given up; for it is impossible, with any degree of safety, to narrow the foundation upon which the system is to stand. The two branches of the legislature are, in the first instance, to consist of only sixtyfive persons, which is the same number of which Congress, under the existing Confederation, may be composed. It is true that this number is intended to be increased; but this is to keep pace with the progress of the population and resources of the country. It is evident that a less number would, even in the first instance, have been unsafe, and that a continuance of the present number would, in a more advanced stage of population, be a very inadequate representation of the people. Whence is the dreaded augmentation of expense to spring? One source indicated, is the multiplication of offices under the new government. Let us examine this a little. It is evident that the principal departments of the administration under the present government, are the same which will be required under the new. There are now a Secretary of War, a Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a Secretary for Domestic Affairs, a Board of Treasury, consisting of three persons, a Treasurer, assistants, clerks, etc. These officers are indispensable under any system, and will suffice under the new as well as the old. As to ambassadors and other ministers and agents in foreign countries, the proposed Constitution can make no other difference than to render their characters, where they reside, more respectable, and their services more useful. As to persons to be employed in the collection of the revenues, it is unquestionably true that these will form a very considerable addition to the number of federal officers; but it will not follow that this will occasion an increase of public expense. It will be in most cases nothing more than an exchange of State for national officers. In the collection of all duties, for instance, the persons employed will be wholly of the latter description. The States individually will stand in no need of any for this purpose. What difference can it make in point of expense to pay officers of the customs appointed by the State or by the United States? There is no good reason to suppose that either the number or the salaries of the latter will be greater than those of the former. Where then are we to seek for those additional articles of expense which are to swell the account to the enormous size that has been represented to us? The chief item which occurs to me respects the support of the judges of the United States. I do not add the President, because there is now a president of Congress, whose expenses may not be far, if any thing, short of those which will be incurred on account of the President of the United States. The support of the judges will clearly be an extra expense, but to what extent will depend on the particular plan which may be adopted in regard to this matter. But upon no reasonable plan can it amount to a sum which will be an object of material consequence. Let us now see what there is to counterbalance any extra expense that may attend the establishment of the proposed government. The first thing which presents itself is that a great part of the business which now keeps Congress sitting through the year will be transacted by the President. Even the management of foreign negotiations will naturally devolve upon him, according to general principles concerted with the Senate, and subject to their final concurrence. Hence it is evident that a portion of the year will suffice for the session of both the Senate and the House of Representatives; we may suppose about a fourth for the latter and a third, or perhaps half, for the former. The extra business of treaties and appointments may give this extra occupation to the Senate. From this circumstance we may infer that, until the House of Representatives shall be increased greatly beyond its present number, there will be a considerable saving of expense from the difference between the constant session of the present and the temporary session of the future Congress. But there is another circumstance of great importance in the view of economy. The business of the United States has hitherto occupied the State legislatures, as well as Congress. The latter has made requisitions which the former have had to provide for. Hence it has happened that the sessions of the State legislatures have been protracted greatly beyond what was necessary for the execution of the mere local business of the States. More than half their time has been frequently employed in matters which related to the United States. Now the members who compose the legislatures of the several States amount to two thousand and upwards, which number has hitherto performed what under the new system will be done in the first instance by sixtyfive persons, and probably at no future period by above a fourth or fifth of that number. The Congress under the proposed government will do all the business of the United States themselves, without the intervention of the State legislatures, who thenceforth will have only to attend to the affairs of their particular States, and will not have to sit in any proportion as long as they have heretofore done. This difference in the time of the sessions of the State legislatures will be clear gain, and will alone form an article of saving, which may be regarded as an equivalent for any additional objects of expense that may be occasioned by the adoption of the new system. The result from these observations is that the sources of additional expense from the establishment of the proposed Constitution are much fewer than may have been imagined; that they are counterbalanced by considerable objects of saving; and that while it is questionable on which side the scale will preponderate, it is certain that a government less expensive would be incompetent to the purposes of the Union. PUBLIUS. 1 Vide Blackstones Commentaries, vol. 1., p. 136. 2 Vide Blackstones Commentaries, vol. iv., p. 438. 3 To show that there is a power in the Constitution by which the liberty of the press may be affected, recourse has been had to the power of taxation. It is said that duties may be laid upon the publications so high as to amount to a prohibition. I know not by what logic it could be maintained, that the declarations in the State constitutions, in favor of the freedom of the press, would be a constitutional impediment to the imposition of duties upon publications by the State legislatures. It cannot certainly be pretended that any degree of duties, however low, would be an abridgment of the liberty of the press. We know that newspapers are taxed in Great Britain, and yet it is notorious that the press nowhere enjoys greater liberty than in that country. And if duties of any kind may be laid without a violation of that liberty, it is evident that the extent must depend on legislative discretion, respecting the liberty of the press, will give it no greater security than it will have without them. The same invasions of it may be effected under the State constitutions which contain those declarations through the means of taxation, as under the proposed Constitution, which has nothing of the kind. It would be quite as significant to declare that government ought to be free, that taxes ought not to be excessive, etc., as that the liberty of the press ought not to be restrained. 4 Vide Rutherfords Institutes, Vol. 2, Book II, Chapter X, Sections XIV and XV. Vide also Grotius, Book II, Chapter IX, Sections VIII and IX. THE FEDERALIST. No. LXXXV. Concluding Remarks From MCLEANs Edition, New York. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: According to the formal division of the subject of these papers, announced in my first number, there would appear still to remain for discussion two points: the analogy of the proposed government to your own State constitution, and the additional security which its adoption will afford to republican government, to liberty, and to property. But these heads have been so fully anticipated and exhausted in the progress of the work, that it would now scarcely be possible to do any thing more than repeat, in a more dilated form, what has been heretofore said, which the advanced stage of the question, and the time already spent upon it, conspire to forbid. It is remarkable, that the resemblance of the plan of the convention to the act which organizes the government of this State holds, not less with regard to many of the supposed defects, than to the real excellences of the former. Among the pretended defects are the reeligibility of the Executive, the want of a council, the omission of a formal bill of rights, the omission of a provision respecting the liberty of the press. These and several others which have been noted in the course of our inquiries are as much chargeable on the existing constitution of this State, as on the one proposed for the Union; and a man must have slender pretensions to consistency, who can rail at the latter for imperfections which he finds no difficulty in excusing in the former. Nor indeed can there be a better proof of the insincerity and affectation of some of the zealous adversaries of the plan of the convention among us, who profess to be the devoted admirers of the government under which they live, than the fury with which they have attacked that plan, for matters in regard to which our own constitution is equally or perhaps more vulnerable. The additional securities to republican government, to liberty and to property, to be derived from the adoption of the plan under consideration, consist chiefly in the restraints which the preservation of the Union will impose on local factions and insurrections, and on the ambition of powerful individuals in single States, who may acquire credit and influence enough, from leaders and favorites, to become the despots of the people; in the diminution of the opportunities to foreign intrigue, which the dissolution of the Confederacy would invite and facilitate; in the prevention of extensive military establishments, which could not fail to grow out of wars between the States in a disunited situation; in the express guaranty of a republican form of government to each; in the absolute and universal exclusion of titles of nobility; and in the precautions against the repetition of those practices on the part of the State governments which have undermined the foundations of property and credit, have planted mutual distrust in the breasts of all classes of citizens, and have occasioned an almost universal prostration of morals. Thus have I, fellowcitizens, executed the task I had assigned to myself; with what success, your conduct must determine. I trust at least you will admit that I have not failed in the assurance I gave you respecting the spirit with which my endeavors should be conducted. I have addressed myself purely to your judgments, and have studiously avoided those asperities which are too apt to disgrace political disputants of all parties, and which have been not a little provoked by the language and conduct of the opponents of the Constitution. The charge of a conspiracy against the liberties of the people, which has been indiscriminately brought against the advocates of the plan, has something in it too wanton and too malignant, not to excite the indignation of every man who feels in his own bosom a refutation of the calumny. The perpetual changes which have been rung upon the wealthy, the wellborn, and the great, have been such as to inspire the disgust of all sensible men. And the unwarrantable concealments and misrepresentations which have been in various ways practiced to keep the truth from the public eye, have been of a nature to demand the reprobation of all honest men. It is not impossible that these circumstances may have occasionally betrayed me into intemperances of expression which I did not intend; it is certain that I have frequently felt a struggle between sensibility and moderation; and if the former has in some instances prevailed, it must be my excuse that it has been neither often nor much. Let us now pause and ask ourselves whether, in the course of these papers, the proposed Constitution has not been satisfactorily vindicated from the aspersions thrown upon it; and whether it has not been shown to be worthy of the public approbation, and necessary to the public safety and prosperity. Every man is bound to answer these questions to himself, according to the best of his conscience and understanding, and to act agreeably to the genuine and sober dictates of his judgment. This is a duty from which nothing can give him a dispensation. T is one that he is called upon, nay, constrained by all the obligations that form the bands of society, to discharge sincerely and honestly. No partial motive, no particular interest, no pride of opinion, no temporary passion or prejudice, will justify to himself, to his country, or to his posterity, an improper election of the part he is to act. Let him beware of an obstinate adherence to party; let him reflect that the object upon which he is to decide is not a particular interest of the community, but the very existence of the nation; and let him remember that a majority of America has already given its sanction to the plan which he is to approve or reject. I shall not dissemble that I feel an entire confidence in the arguments which recommend the proposed system to your adoption, and that I am unable to discern any real force in those by which it has been opposed. I am persuaded that it is the best which our political situation, habits, and opinions will admit, and superior to any the revolution has produced. Concessions on the part of the friends of the plan, that it has not a claim to absolute perfection, have afforded matter of no small triumph to its enemies. Why, say they, should we adopt an imperfect thing? Why not amend it and make it perfect before it is irrevocably established? This may be plausible enough, but it is only plausible. In the first place I remark, that the extent of these concessions has been greatly exaggerated. They have been stated as amounting to an admission that the plan is radically defective, and that without material alterations the rights and the interests of the community cannot be safely confided to it. This, as far as I have understood the meaning of those who make the concessions, is an entire perversion of their sense. No advocate of the measure can be found, who will not declare as his sentiment, that the system, though it may not be perfect in every part, is, upon the whole, a good one; is the best that the present views and circumstances of the country will permit; and is such an one as promises every species of security which a reasonable people can desire. I answer in the next place, that I should esteem it the extreme of imprudence to prolong the precarious state of our national affairs, and to expose the Union to the jeopardy of successive experiments, in the chimerical pursuit of a perfect plan. I never expect to see a perfect work from imperfect man. The result of the deliberations of all collective bodies must necessarily be a compound, as well of the errors and prejudices, as of the good sense and wisdom, of the individuals of whom they are composed. The compacts which are to embrace thirteen distinct States in a common bond of amity and union, must as necessarily be a compromise of as many dissimilar interests and inclinations. How can perfection spring from such materials? The reasons assigned in an excellent little pamphlet lately published in this city1 are unanswerable to show the utter improbability of assembling a new convention, under circumstances in any degree so favorable to a happy issue, as those in which the late convention met, deliberated, and concluded. I will not repeat the arguments there used, as I presume the production itself has had an extensive circulation. It is certainly well worthy the perusal of every friend to his country. There is, however, one point of light in which the subject of amendments still remains to be considered, and in which it has not yet been exhibited to public view. I cannot resolve to conclude without first taking a survey of it in this aspect. It appears to me susceptible of absolute demonstration, that it will be far more easy to obtain subsequent than previous amendments to the Constitution. The moment an alteration is made in the present plan, it becomes, to the purpose of adoption, a new one, and must undergo a new decision of each State. To its complete establishment throughout the Union, it will therefore require the concurrence of thirteen States. If, on the contrary, the Constitution proposed should once be ratified by all the States as it stands, alterations in it may at any time be effected by nine States. Here, then, the chances are as thirteen to nine2 in favor of subsequent amendment, rather than of the original adoption of an entire system. This is not all. Every Constitution for the United States must inevitably consist of a great variety of particulars, in which thirteen independent States are to be accommodated in their interests or opinions of interest. We may of course expect to see, in any body of men charged with its original formation, very different combinations of the parts upon different points. Many of those who form a majority on one question, may become the minority on a second, and an association dissimilar to either may constitute the majority on a third. Hence the necessity of moulding and arranging all the particulars which are to compose the whole, in such a manner as to satisfy all the parties to the compact; and hence, also, an immense multiplication of difficulties and casualties in obtaining the collective assent to a final act. The degree of that multiplication must evidently be in a ratio to the number of particulars and the number of parties. But every amendment to the Constitution, if once established, would be a single proposition, and might be brought forward singly. There would then be no necessity for management or compromise, in relation to any other point no giving nor taking. The will of the requisite number would at once bring the matter to a decisive issue. And consequently, whenever nine, or rather ten States, were united in the desire of a particular amendment, that amendment must infallibly take place. There can, therefore, be no comparison between the facility of affecting an amendment, and that of establishing in the first instance a complete Constitution. In opposition to the probability of subsequent amendments, it has been urged that the persons delegated to the administration of the national government will always be disinclined to yield up any portion of the authority of which they were once possessed. For my own part I acknowledge a thorough conviction that any amendments which may, upon mature consideration, be thought useful, will be applicable to the organization of the government, not to the mass of its powers; and on this account alone, I think there is no weight in the observation just stated. I also think there is little weight in it on another account. The intrinsic difficulty of governing thirteen States at any rate, independent of calculations upon an ordinary degree of public spirit and integrity, will, in my opinion constantly impose on the national rulers the necessity of a spirit of accommodation to the reasonable expectations of their constituents. But there is yet a further consideration, which proves beyond the possibility of a doubt, that the observation is futile. It is this that the national rulers, whenever nine States concur, will have no option upon the subject. By the fifth article of the plan, the Congress will be obliged on the application of the legislatures of two thirds of the States, which at present amount to nine, to call a convention for proposing amendments, which shall be valid, to all intents and purposes, as part of the Constitution, when ratified by the legislatures of three fourths of the States, or by conventions in three fourths thereof. The words of this article are peremptory. The Congress shall call a convention. Nothing in this particular is left to the discretion of that body. And of consequence, all the declamation about the disinclination to a change vanishes in air. Nor however difficult it may be supposed to unite two thirds or three fourths of the State legislatures, in amendments which may affect local interests, can there be any room to apprehend any such difficulty in a union on points which are merely relative to the general liberty or security of the people. We may safely rely on the disposition of the State legislatures to erect barriers against the encroachments of the national authority. If the foregoing argument is a fallacy, certain it is that I am myself deceived by it, for it is, in my conception, one of those rare instances in which a political truth can be brought to the test of a mathematical demonstration. Those who see the matter in the same light with me, however zealous they may be for amendments, must agree in the propriety of a previous adoption, as the most direct road to their own object. The zeal for attempts to amend, prior to the establishment of the Constitution, must abate in every man who is ready to accede to the truth of the following observations of a writer equally solid and ingenious: To balance a large state or society Usays hee, whether monarchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of so great difficulty, that no human genius, however comprehensive, is able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect it. The judgments of many must unite in the work; experience must guide their labor; time must bring it to perfection, and the feeling of inconveniences must correct the mistakes which they INEVITABLY fall into in their first trials and experiments.3 These judicious reflections contain a lesson of moderation to all the sincere lovers of the Union, and ought to put them upon their guard against hazarding anarchy, civil war, a perpetual alienation of the States from each other, and perhaps the military despotism of a victorious demagogue, in the pursuit of what they are not likely to obtain, but from time and experience. It may be in me a defect of political fortitude, but I acknowledge that I cannot entertain an equal tranquillity with those who affect to treat the dangers of a longer continuance in our present situation as imaginary. A nation, without a national government, is, in my view, an awful spectacle. The establishment of a Constitution, in time of profound peace, by the voluntary consent of a whole people, is a prodigy, to the completion of which I look forward with trembling anxiety. I can reconcile it to no rules of prudence to let go the hold we now have, in so arduous an enterprise, upon seven out of the thirteen States, and after having passed over so considerable a part of the ground, to recommence the course. I dread the more the consequences of new attempts, because I know that powerful individuals, in this and in other States, are enemies to a general national government in every possible shape. PUBLIUS. 1 Entitled An Address to the People of the State of New York. 2 It may rather be said TEN, for though two thirds may set on foot the measure, three fourths must ratify. 3 Humes Essays, vol. i., page 128: The Rise of Arts and Sciences. THE FEDERALIST PAPERS By Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison FEDERALIST No. 1 General Introduction For the Independent Journal. Saturday, October 27, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: AFTER an unequivocal experience of the inefficacy of the subsisting federal government, you are called upon to deliberate on a new Constitution for the United States of America. The subject speaks its own importance; comprehending in its consequences nothing less than the existence of the UNION, the safety and welfare of the parts of which it is composed, the fate of an empire in many respects the most interesting in the world. It has been frequently remarked that it seems to have been reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force. If there be any truth in the remark, the crisis at which we are arrived may with propriety be regarded as the era in which that decision is to be made; and a wrong election of the part we shall act may, in this view, deserve to be considered as the general misfortune of mankind. This idea will add the inducements of philanthropy to those of patriotism, to heighten the solicitude which all considerate and good men must feel for the event. Happy will it be if our choice should be directed by a judicious estimate of our true interests, unperplexed and unbiased by considerations not connected with the public good. But this is a thing more ardently to be wished than seriously to be expected. The plan offered to our deliberations affects too many particular interests, innovates upon too many local institutions, not to involve in its discussion a variety of objects foreign to its merits, and of views, passions and prejudices little favorable to the discovery of truth. Among the most formidable of the obstacles which the new Constitution will have to encounter may readily be distinguished the obvious interest of a certain class of men in every State to resist all changes which may hazard a diminution of the power, emolument, and consequence of the offices they hold under the State establishments; and the perverted ambition of another class of men, who will either hope to aggrandize themselves by the confusions of their country, or will flatter themselves with fairer prospects of elevation from the subdivision of the empire into several partial confederacies than from its union under one government. It is not, however, my design to dwell upon observations of this nature. I am well aware that it would be disingenuous to resolve indiscriminately the opposition of any set of men (merely because their situations might subject them to suspicion) into interested or ambitious views. Candor will oblige us to admit that even such men may be actuated by upright intentions; and it cannot be doubted that much of the opposition which has made its appearance, or may hereafter make its appearance, will spring from sources, blameless at least, if not respectablethe honest errors of minds led astray by preconceived jealousies and fears. So numerous indeed and so powerful are the causes which serve to give a false bias to the judgment, that we, upon many occasions, see wise and good men on the wrong as well as on the right side of questions of the first magnitude to society. This circumstance, if duly attended to, would furnish a lesson of moderation to those who are ever so much persuaded of their being in the right in any controversy. And a further reason for caution, in this respect, might be drawn from the reflection that we are not always sure that those who advocate the truth are influenced by purer principles than their antagonists. Ambition, avarice, personal animosity, party opposition, and many other motives not more laudable than these, are apt to operate as well upon those who support as those who oppose the right side of a question. Were there not even these inducements to moderation, nothing could be more illjudged than that intolerant spirit which has, at all times, characterized political parties. For in politics, as in religion, it is equally absurd to aim at making proselytes by fire and sword. Heresies in either can rarely be cured by persecution. And yet, however just these sentiments will be allowed to be, we have already sufficient indications that it will happen in this as in all former cases of great national discussion. A torrent of angry and malignant passions will be let loose. To judge from the conduct of the opposite parties, we shall be led to conclude that they will mutually hope to evince the justness of their opinions, and to increase the number of their converts by the loudness of their declamations and the bitterness of their invectives. An enlightened zeal for the energy and efficiency of government will be stigmatized as the offspring of a temper fond of despotic power and hostile to the principles of liberty. An overscrupulous jealousy of danger to the rights of the people, which is more commonly the fault of the head than of the heart, will be represented as mere pretense and artifice, the stale bait for popularity at the expense of the public good. It will be forgotten, on the one hand, that jealousy is the usual concomitant of love, and that the noble enthusiasm of liberty is apt to be infected with a spirit of narrow and illiberal distrust. On the other hand, it will be equally forgotten that the vigor of government is essential to the security of liberty; that, in the contemplation of a sound and wellinformed judgment, their interest can never be separated; and that a dangerous ambition more often lurks behind the specious mask of zeal for the rights of the people than under the forbidden appearance of zeal for the firmness and efficiency of government. History will teach us that the former has been found a much more certain road to the introduction of despotism than the latter, and that of those men who have overturned the liberties of republics, the greatest number have begun their career by paying an obsequious court to the people; commencing demagogues, and ending tyrants. In the course of the preceding observations, I have had an eye, my fellowcitizens, to putting you upon your guard against all attempts, from whatever quarter, to influence your decision in a matter of the utmost moment to your welfare, by any impressions other than those which may result from the evidence of truth. You will, no doubt, at the same time, have collected from the general scope of them, that they proceed from a source not unfriendly to the new Constitution. Yes, my countrymen, I own to you that, after having given it an attentive consideration, I am clearly of opinion it is your interest to adopt it. I am convinced that this is the safest course for your liberty, your dignity, and your happiness. I affect not reserves which I do not feel. I will not amuse you with an appearance of deliberation when I have decided. I frankly acknowledge to you my convictions, and I will freely lay before you the reasons on which they are founded. The consciousness of good intentions disdains ambiguity. I shall not, however, multiply professions on this head. My motives must remain in the depository of my own breast. My arguments will be open to all, and may be judged of by all. They shall at least be offered in a spirit which will not disgrace the cause of truth. I propose, in a series of papers, to discuss the following interesting particulars: THE UTILITY OF THE UNION TO YOUR POLITICAL PROSPERITY THE INSUFFICIENCY OF THE PRESENT CONFEDERATION TO PRESERVE THAT UNION THE NECESSITY OF A GOVERNMENT AT LEAST EQUALLY ENERGETIC WITH THE ONE PROPOSED, TO THE ATTAINMENT OF THIS OBJECT THE CONFORMITY OF THE PROPOSED CONSTITUTION TO THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT ITS ANALOGY TO YOUR OWN STATE CONSTITUTION and lastly, THE ADDITIONAL SECURITY WHICH ITS ADOPTION WILL AFFORD TO THE PRESERVATION OF THAT SPECIES OF GOVERNMENT, TO LIBERTY, AND TO PROPERTY. In the progress of this discussion I shall endeavor to give a satisfactory answer to all the objections which shall have made their appearance, that may seem to have any claim to your attention. It may perhaps be thought superfluous to offer arguments to prove the utility of the UNION, a point, no doubt, deeply engraved on the hearts of the great body of the people in every State, and one, which it may be imagined, has no adversaries. But the fact is, that we already hear it whispered in the private circles of those who oppose the new Constitution, that the thirteen States are of too great extent for any general system, and that we must of necessity resort to separate confederacies of distinct portions of the whole.(1) This doctrine will, in all probability, be gradually propagated, till it has votaries enough to countenance an open avowal of it. For nothing can be more evident, to those who are able to take an enlarged view of the subject, than the alternative of an adoption of the new Constitution or a dismemberment of the Union. It will therefore be of use to begin by examining the advantages of that Union, the certain evils, and the probable dangers, to which every State will be exposed from its dissolution. This shall accordingly constitute the subject of my next address. PUBLIUS 1. The same idea, tracing the arguments to their consequences, is held out in several of the late publications against the new Constitution. FEDERALIST No. 2 Concerning Dangers from Foreign Force and Influence For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, October 31, 1787 JAY To the People of the State of New York: WHEN the people of America reflect that they are now called upon to decide a question, which, in its consequences, must prove one of the most important that ever engaged their attention, the propriety of their taking a very comprehensive, as well as a very serious, view of it, will be evident. Nothing is more certain than the indispensable necessity of government, and it is equally undeniable, that whenever and however it is instituted, the people must cede to it some of their natural rights in order to vest it with requisite powers. It is well worthy of consideration therefore, whether it would conduce more to the interest of the people of America that they should, to all general purposes, be one nation, under one federal government, or that they should divide themselves into separate confederacies, and give to the head of each the same kind of powers which they are advised to place in one national government. It has until lately been a received and uncontradicted opinion that the prosperity of the people of America depended on their continuing firmly united, and the wishes, prayers, and efforts of our best and wisest citizens have been constantly directed to that object. But politicians now appear, who insist that this opinion is erroneous, and that instead of looking for safety and happiness in union, we ought to seek it in a division of the States into distinct confederacies or sovereignties. However extraordinary this new doctrine may appear, it nevertheless has its advocates; and certain characters who were much opposed to it formerly, are at present of the number. Whatever may be the arguments or inducements which have wrought this change in the sentiments and declarations of these gentlemen, it certainly would not be wise in the people at large to adopt these new political tenets without being fully convinced that they are founded in truth and sound policy. It has often given me pleasure to observe that independent America was not composed of detached and distant territories, but that one connected, fertile, widespreading country was the portion of our western sons of liberty. Providence has in a particular manner blessed it with a variety of soils and productions, and watered it with innumerable streams, for the delight and accommodation of its inhabitants. A succession of navigable waters forms a kind of chain round its borders, as if to bind it together; while the most noble rivers in the world, running at convenient distances, present them with highways for the easy communication of friendly aids, and the mutual transportation and exchange of their various commodities. With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice that Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country to one united peoplea people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established general liberty and independence. This country and this people seem to have been made for each other, and it appears as if it was the design of Providence, that an inheritance so proper and convenient for a band of brethren, united to each other by the strongest ties, should never be split into a number of unsocial, jealous, and alien sovereignties. Similar sentiments have hitherto prevailed among all orders and denominations of men among us. To all general purposes we have uniformly been one people each individual citizen everywhere enjoying the same national rights, privileges, and protection. As a nation we have made peace and war; as a nation we have vanquished our common enemies; as a nation we have formed alliances, and made treaties, and entered into various compacts and conventions with foreign states. A strong sense of the value and blessings of union induced the people, at a very early period, to institute a federal government to preserve and perpetuate it. They formed it almost as soon as they had a political existence; nay, at a time when their habitations were in flames, when many of their citizens were bleeding, and when the progress of hostility and desolation left little room for those calm and mature inquiries and reflections which must ever precede the formation of a wise and wellbalanced government for a free people. It is not to be wondered at, that a government instituted in times so inauspicious, should on experiment be found greatly deficient and inadequate to the purpose it was intended to answer. This intelligent people perceived and regretted these defects. Still continuing no less attached to union than enamored of liberty, they observed the danger which immediately threatened the former and more remotely the latter; and being persuaded that ample security for both could only be found in a national government more wisely framed, they as with one voice, convened the late convention at Philadelphia, to take that important subject under consideration. This convention composed of men who possessed the confidence of the people, and many of whom had become highly distinguished by their patriotism, virtue and wisdom, in times which tried the minds and hearts of men, undertook the arduous task. In the mild season of peace, with minds unoccupied by other subjects, they passed many months in cool, uninterrupted, and daily consultation; and finally, without having been awed by power, or influenced by any passions except love for their country, they presented and recommended to the people the plan produced by their joint and very unanimous councils. Admit, for so is the fact, that this plan is only RECOMMENDED, not imposed, yet let it be remembered that it is neither recommended to BLIND approbation, nor to BLIND reprobation; but to that sedate and candid consideration which the magnitude and importance of the subject demand, and which it certainly ought to receive. But this (as was remarked in the foregoing number of this paper) is more to be wished than expected, that it may be so considered and examined. Experience on a former occasion teaches us not to be too sanguine in such hopes. It is not yet forgotten that wellgrounded apprehensions of imminent danger induced the people of America to form the memorable Congress of 1774. That body recommended certain measures to their constituents, and the event proved their wisdom; yet it is fresh in our memories how soon the press began to teem with pamphlets and weekly papers against those very measures. Not only many of the officers of government, who obeyed the dictates of personal interest, but others, from a mistaken estimate of consequences, or the undue influence of former attachments, or whose ambition aimed at objects which did not correspond with the public good, were indefatigable in their efforts to persuade the people to reject the advice of that patriotic Congress. Many, indeed, were deceived and deluded, but the great majority of the people reasoned and decided judiciously; and happy they are in reflecting that they did so. They considered that the Congress was composed of many wise and experienced men. That, being convened from different parts of the country, they brought with them and communicated to each other a variety of useful information. That, in the course of the time they passed together in inquiring into and discussing the true interests of their country, they must have acquired very accurate knowledge on that head. That they were individually interested in the public liberty and prosperity, and therefore that it was not less their inclination than their duty to recommend only such measures as, after the most mature deliberation, they really thought prudent and advisable. These and similar considerations then induced the people to rely greatly on the judgment and integrity of the Congress; and they took their advice, notwithstanding the various arts and endeavors used to deter them from it. But if the people at large had reason to confide in the men of that Congress, few of whom had been fully tried or generally known, still greater reason have they now to respect the judgment and advice of the convention, for it is well known that some of the most distinguished members of that Congress, who have been since tried and justly approved for patriotism and abilities, and who have grown old in acquiring political information, were also members of this convention, and carried into it their accumulated knowledge and experience. It is worthy of remark that not only the first, but every succeeding Congress, as well as the late convention, have invariably joined with the people in thinking that the prosperity of America depended on its Union. To preserve and perpetuate it was the great object of the people in forming that convention, and it is also the great object of the plan which the convention has advised them to adopt. With what propriety, therefore, or for what good purposes, are attempts at this particular period made by some men to depreciate the importance of the Union? Or why is it suggested that three or four confederacies would be better than one? I am persuaded in my own mind that the people have always thought right on this subject, and that their universal and uniform attachment to the cause of the Union rests on great and weighty reasons, which I shall endeavor to develop and explain in some ensuing papers. They who promote the idea of substituting a number of distinct confederacies in the room of the plan of the convention, seem clearly to foresee that the rejection of it would put the continuance of the Union in the utmost jeopardy. That certainly would be the case, and I sincerely wish that it may be as clearly foreseen by every good citizen, that whenever the dissolution of the Union arrives, America will have reason to exclaim, in the words of the poet: \"FAREWELL! A LONG FAREWELL TO ALL MY GREATNESS.\" PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 3 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, November 3, 1787 JAY To the People of the State of New York: IT IS not a new observation that the people of any country (if, like the Americans, intelligent and wellinformed) seldom adopt and steadily persevere for many years in an erroneous opinion respecting their interests. That consideration naturally tends to create great respect for the high opinion which the people of America have so long and uniformly entertained of the importance of their continuing firmly united under one federal government, vested with sufficient powers for all general and national purposes. The more attentively I consider and investigate the reasons which appear to have given birth to this opinion, the more I become convinced that they are cogent and conclusive. Among the many objects to which a wise and free people find it necessary to direct their attention, that of providing for their SAFETY seems to be the first. The SAFETY of the people doubtless has relation to a great variety of circumstances and considerations, and consequently affords great latitude to those who wish to define it precisely and comprehensively. At present I mean only to consider it as it respects security for the preservation of peace and tranquillity, as well as against dangers from FOREIGN ARMS AND INFLUENCE, as from dangers of the LIKE KIND arising from domestic causes. As the former of these comes first in order, it is proper it should be the first discussed. Let us therefore proceed to examine whether the people are not right in their opinion that a cordial Union, under an efficient national government, affords them the best security that can be devised against HOSTILITIES from abroad. The number of wars which have happened or will happen in the world will always be found to be in proportion to the number and weight of the causes, whether REAL or PRETENDED, which PROVOKE or INVITE them. If this remark be just, it becomes useful to inquire whether so many JUST causes of war are likely to be given by UNITED AMERICA as by DISUNITED America; for if it should turn out that United America will probably give the fewest, then it will follow that in this respect the Union tends most to preserve the people in a state of peace with other nations. The JUST causes of war, for the most part, arise either from violation of treaties or from direct violence. America has already formed treaties with no less than six foreign nations, and all of them, except Prussia, are maritime, and therefore able to annoy and injure us. She has also extensive commerce with Portugal, Spain, and Britain, and, with respect to the two latter, has, in addition, the circumstance of neighborhood to attend to. It is of high importance to the peace of America that she observe the laws of nations towards all these powers, and to me it appears evident that this will be more perfectly and punctually done by one national government than it could be either by thirteen separate States or by three or four distinct confederacies. Because when once an efficient national government is established, the best men in the country will not only consent to serve, but also will generally be appointed to manage it; for, although town or country, or other contracted influence, may place men in State assemblies, or senates, or courts of justice, or executive departments, yet more general and extensive reputation for talents and other qualifications will be necessary to recommend men to offices under the national government,especially as it will have the widest field for choice, and never experience that want of proper persons which is not uncommon in some of the States. Hence, it will result that the administration, the political counsels, and the judicial decisions of the national government will be more wise, systematical, and judicious than those of individual States, and consequently more satisfactory with respect to other nations, as well as more SAFE with respect to us. Because, under the national government, treaties and articles of treaties, as well as the laws of nations, will always be expounded in one sense and executed in the same manner,whereas, adjudications on the same points and questions, in thirteen States, or in three or four confederacies, will not always accord or be consistent; and that, as well from the variety of independent courts and judges appointed by different and independent governments, as from the different local laws and interests which may affect and influence them. The wisdom of the convention, in committing such questions to the jurisdiction and judgment of courts appointed by and responsible only to one national government, cannot be too much commended. Because the prospect of present loss or advantage may often tempt the governing party in one or two States to swerve from good faith and justice; but those temptations, not reaching the other States, and consequently having little or no influence on the national government, the temptation will be fruitless, and good faith and justice be preserved. The case of the treaty of peace with Britain adds great weight to this reasoning. Because, even if the governing party in a State should be disposed to resist such temptations, yet as such temptations may, and commonly do, result from circumstances peculiar to the State, and may affect a great number of the inhabitants, the governing party may not always be able, if willing, to prevent the injustice meditated, or to punish the aggressors. But the national government, not being affected by those local circumstances, will neither be induced to commit the wrong themselves, nor want power or inclination to prevent or punish its commission by others. So far, therefore, as either designed or accidental violations of treaties and the laws of nations afford JUST causes of war, they are less to be apprehended under one general government than under several lesser ones, and in that respect the former most favors the SAFETY of the people. As to those just causes of war which proceed from direct and unlawful violence, it appears equally clear to me that one good national government affords vastly more security against dangers of that sort than can be derived from any other quarter. Because such violences are more frequently caused by the passions and interests of a part than of the whole; of one or two States than of the Union. Not a single Indian war has yet been occasioned by aggressions of the present federal government, feeble as it is; but there are several instances of Indian hostilities having been provoked by the improper conduct of individual States, who, either unable or unwilling to restrain or punish offenses, have given occasion to the slaughter of many innocent inhabitants. The neighborhood of Spanish and British territories, bordering on some States and not on others, naturally confines the causes of quarrel more immediately to the borderers. The bordering States, if any, will be those who, under the impulse of sudden irritation, and a quick sense of apparent interest or injury, will be most likely, by direct violence, to excite war with these nations; and nothing can so effectually obviate that danger as a national government, whose wisdom and prudence will not be diminished by the passions which actuate the parties immediately interested. But not only fewer just causes of war will be given by the national government, but it will also be more in their power to accommodate and settle them amicably. They will be more temperate and cool, and in that respect, as well as in others, will be more in capacity to act advisedly than the offending State. The pride of states, as well as of men, naturally disposes them to justify all their actions, and opposes their acknowledging, correcting, or repairing their errors and offenses. The national government, in such cases, will not be affected by this pride, but will proceed with moderation and candor to consider and decide on the means most proper to extricate them from the difficulties which threaten them. Besides, it is well known that acknowledgments, explanations, and compensations are often accepted as satisfactory from a strong united nation, which would be rejected as unsatisfactory if offered by a State or confederacy of little consideration or power. In the year 1685, the state of Genoa having offended Louis XIV., endeavored to appease him. He demanded that they should send their Doge, or chief magistrate, accompanied by four of their senators, to FRANCE, to ask his pardon and receive his terms. They were obliged to submit to it for the sake of peace. Would he on any occasion either have demanded or have received the like humiliation from Spain, or Britain, or any other POWERFUL nation? PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 4 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, November 7, 1787 JAY To the People of the State of New York: MY LAST paper assigned several reasons why the safety of the people would be best secured by union against the danger it may be exposed to by JUST causes of war given to other nations; and those reasons show that such causes would not only be more rarely given, but would also be more easily accommodated, by a national government than either by the State governments or the proposed little confederacies. But the safety of the people of America against dangers from FOREIGN force depends not only on their forbearing to give JUST causes of war to other nations, but also on their placing and continuing themselves in such a situation as not to INVITE hostility or insult; for it need not be observed that there are PRETENDED as well as just causes of war. It is too true, however disgraceful it may be to human nature, that nations in general will make war whenever they have a prospect of getting anything by it; nay, absolute monarchs will often make war when their nations are to get nothing by it, but for the purposes and objects merely personal, such as thirst for military glory, revenge for personal affronts, ambition, or private compacts to aggrandize or support their particular families or partisans. These and a variety of other motives, which affect only the mind of the sovereign, often lead him to engage in wars not sanctified by justice or the voice and interests of his people. But, independent of these inducements to war, which are more prevalent in absolute monarchies, but which well deserve our attention, there are others which affect nations as often as kings; and some of them will on examination be found to grow out of our relative situation and circumstances. With France and with Britain we are rivals in the fisheries, and can supply their markets cheaper than they can themselves, notwithstanding any efforts to prevent it by bounties on their own or duties on foreign fish. With them and with most other European nations we are rivals in navigation and the carrying trade; and we shall deceive ourselves if we suppose that any of them will rejoice to see it flourish; for, as our carrying trade cannot increase without in some degree diminishing theirs, it is more their interest, and will be more their policy, to restrain than to promote it. In the trade to China and India, we interfere with more than one nation, inasmuch as it enables us to partake in advantages which they had in a manner monopolized, and as we thereby supply ourselves with commodities which we used to purchase from them. The extension of our own commerce in our own vessels cannot give pleasure to any nations who possess territories on or near this continent, because the cheapness and excellence of our productions, added to the circumstance of vicinity, and the enterprise and address of our merchants and navigators, will give us a greater share in the advantages which those territories afford, than consists with the wishes or policy of their respective sovereigns. Spain thinks it convenient to shut the Mississippi against us on the one side, and Britain excludes us from the Saint Lawrence on the other; nor will either of them permit the other waters which are between them and us to become the means of mutual intercourse and traffic. From these and such like considerations, which might, if consistent with prudence, be more amplified and detailed, it is easy to see that jealousies and uneasinesses may gradually slide into the minds and cabinets of other nations, and that we are not to expect that they should regard our advancement in union, in power and consequence by land and by sea, with an eye of indifference and composure. The people of America are aware that inducements to war may arise out of these circumstances, as well as from others not so obvious at present, and that whenever such inducements may find fit time and opportunity for operation, pretenses to color and justify them will not be wanting. Wisely, therefore, do they consider union and a good national government as necessary to put and keep them in SUCH A SITUATION as, instead of INVITING war, will tend to repress and discourage it. That situation consists in the best possible state of defense, and necessarily depends on the government, the arms, and the resources of the country. As the safety of the whole is the interest of the whole, and cannot be provided for without government, either one or more or many, let us inquire whether one good government is not, relative to the object in question, more competent than any other given number whatever. One government can collect and avail itself of the talents and experience of the ablest men, in whatever part of the Union they may be found. It can move on uniform principles of policy. It can harmonize, assimilate, and protect the several parts and members, and extend the benefit of its foresight and precautions to each. In the formation of treaties, it will regard the interest of the whole, and the particular interests of the parts as connected with that of the whole. It can apply the resources and power of the whole to the defense of any particular part, and that more easily and expeditiously than State governments or separate confederacies can possibly do, for want of concert and unity of system. It can place the militia under one plan of discipline, and, by putting their officers in a proper line of subordination to the Chief Magistrate, will, as it were, consolidate them into one corps, and thereby render them more efficient than if divided into thirteen or into three or four distinct independent companies. What would the militia of Britain be if the English militia obeyed the government of England, if the Scotch militia obeyed the government of Scotland, and if the Welsh militia obeyed the government of Wales? Suppose an invasion; would those three governments (if they agreed at all) be able, with all their respective forces, to operate against the enemy so effectually as the single government of Great Britain would? We have heard much of the fleets of Britain, and the time may come, if we are wise, when the fleets of America may engage attention. But if one national government, had not so regulated the navigation of Britain as to make it a nursery for seamenif one national government had not called forth all the national means and materials for forming fleets, their prowess and their thunder would never have been celebrated. Let England have its navigation and fleetlet Scotland have its navigation and fleetlet Wales have its navigation and fleetlet Ireland have its navigation and fleetlet those four of the constituent parts of the British empire be under four independent governments, and it is easy to perceive how soon they would each dwindle into comparative insignificance. Apply these facts to our own case. Leave America divided into thirteen or, if you please, into three or four independent governmentswhat armies could they raise and paywhat fleets could they ever hope to have? If one was attacked, would the others fly to its succor, and spend their blood and money in its defense? Would there be no danger of their being flattered into neutrality by its specious promises, or seduced by a too great fondness for peace to decline hazarding their tranquillity and present safety for the sake of neighbors, of whom perhaps they have been jealous, and whose importance they are content to see diminished? Although such conduct would not be wise, it would, nevertheless, be natural. The history of the states of Greece, and of other countries, abounds with such instances, and it is not improbable that what has so often happened would, under similar circumstances, happen again. But admit that they might be willing to help the invaded State or confederacy. How, and when, and in what proportion shall aids of men and money be afforded? Who shall command the allied armies, and from which of them shall he receive his orders? Who shall settle the terms of peace, and in case of disputes what umpire shall decide between them and compel acquiescence? Various difficulties and inconveniences would be inseparable from such a situation; whereas one government, watching over the general and common interests, and combining and directing the powers and resources of the whole, would be free from all these embarrassments, and conduce far more to the safety of the people. But whatever may be our situation, whether firmly united under one national government, or split into a number of confederacies, certain it is, that foreign nations will know and view it exactly as it is; and they will act toward us accordingly. If they see that our national government is efficient and well administered, our trade prudently regulated, our militia properly organized and disciplined, our resources and finances discreetly managed, our credit reestablished, our people free, contented, and united, they will be much more disposed to cultivate our friendship than provoke our resentment. If, on the other hand, they find us either destitute of an effectual government (each State doing right or wrong, as to its rulers may seem convenient), or split into three or four independent and probably discordant republics or confederacies, one inclining to Britain, another to France, and a third to Spain, and perhaps played off against each other by the three, what a poor, pitiful figure will America make in their eyes! How liable would she become not only to their contempt but to their outrage, and how soon would dearbought experience proclaim that when a people or family so divide, it never fails to be against themselves. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 5 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, November 10, 1787 JAY To the People of the State of New York: QUEEN ANNE, in her letter of the 1st July, 1706, to the Scotch Parliament, makes some observations on the importance of the UNION then forming between England and Scotland, which merit our attention. I shall present the public with one or two extracts from it: \"An entire and perfect union will be the solid foundation of lasting peace: It will secure your religion, liberty, and property; remove the animosities amongst yourselves, and the jealousies and differences betwixt our two kingdoms. It must increase your strength, riches, and trade; and by this union the whole island, being joined in affection and free from all apprehensions of different interest, will be ENABLED TO RESIST ALL ITS ENEMIES.\" \"We most earnestly recommend to you calmness and unanimity in this great and weighty affair, that the union may be brought to a happy conclusion, being the only EFFECTUAL way to secure our present and future happiness, and disappoint the designs of our and your enemies, who will doubtless, on this occasion, USE THEIR UTMOST ENDEAVORS TO PREVENT OR DELAY THIS UNION.\" It was remarked in the preceding paper, that weakness and divisions at home would invite dangers from abroad; and that nothing would tend more to secure us from them than union, strength, and good government within ourselves. This subject is copious and cannot easily be exhausted. The history of Great Britain is the one with which we are in general the best acquainted, and it gives us many useful lessons. We may profit by their experience without paying the price which it cost them. Although it seems obvious to common sense that the people of such an island should be but one nation, yet we find that they were for ages divided into three, and that those three were almost constantly embroiled in quarrels and wars with one another. Notwithstanding their true interest with respect to the continental nations was really the same, yet by the arts and policy and practices of those nations, their mutual jealousies were perpetually kept inflamed, and for a long series of years they were far more inconvenient and troublesome than they were useful and assisting to each other. Should the people of America divide themselves into three or four nations, would not the same thing happen? Would not similar jealousies arise, and be in like manner cherished? Instead of their being \"joined in affection\" and free from all apprehension of different \"interests,\" envy and jealousy would soon extinguish confidence and affection, and the partial interests of each confederacy, instead of the general interests of all America, would be the only objects of their policy and pursuits. Hence, like most other BORDERING nations, they would always be either involved in disputes and war, or live in the constant apprehension of them. The most sanguine advocates for three or four confederacies cannot reasonably suppose that they would long remain exactly on an equal footing in point of strength, even if it was possible to form them so at first; but, admitting that to be practicable, yet what human contrivance can secure the continuance of such equality? Independent of those local circumstances which tend to beget and increase power in one part and to impede its progress in another, we must advert to the effects of that superior policy and good management which would probably distinguish the government of one above the rest, and by which their relative equality in strength and consideration would be destroyed. For it cannot be presumed that the same degree of sound policy, prudence, and foresight would uniformly be observed by each of these confederacies for a long succession of years. Whenever, and from whatever causes, it might happen, and happen it would, that any one of these nations or confederacies should rise on the scale of political importance much above the degree of her neighbors, that moment would those neighbors behold her with envy and with fear. Both those passions would lead them to countenance, if not to promote, whatever might promise to diminish her importance; and would also restrain them from measures calculated to advance or even to secure her prosperity. Much time would not be necessary to enable her to discern these unfriendly dispositions. She would soon begin, not only to lose confidence in her neighbors, but also to feel a disposition equally unfavorable to them. Distrust naturally creates distrust, and by nothing is goodwill and kind conduct more speedily changed than by invidious jealousies and uncandid imputations, whether expressed or implied. The North is generally the region of strength, and many local circumstances render it probable that the most Northern of the proposed confederacies would, at a period not very distant, be unquestionably more formidable than any of the others. No sooner would this become evident than the NORTHERN HIVE would excite the same ideas and sensations in the more southern parts of America which it formerly did in the southern parts of Europe. Nor does it appear to be a rash conjecture that its young swarms might often be tempted to gather honey in the more blooming fields and milder air of their luxurious and more delicate neighbors. They who well consider the history of similar divisions and confederacies will find abundant reason to apprehend that those in contemplation would in no other sense be neighbors than as they would be borderers; that they would neither love nor trust one another, but on the contrary would be a prey to discord, jealousy, and mutual injuries; in short, that they would place us exactly in the situations in which some nations doubtless wish to see us, viz., FORMIDABLE ONLY TO EACH OTHER. From these considerations it appears that those gentlemen are greatly mistaken who suppose that alliances offensive and defensive might be formed between these confederacies, and would produce that combination and union of wills of arms and of resources, which would be necessary to put and keep them in a formidable state of defense against foreign enemies. When did the independent states, into which Britain and Spain were formerly divided, combine in such alliance, or unite their forces against a foreign enemy? The proposed confederacies will be DISTINCT NATIONS. Each of them would have its commerce with foreigners to regulate by distinct treaties; and as their productions and commodities are different and proper for different markets, so would those treaties be essentially different. Different commercial concerns must create different interests, and of course different degrees of political attachment to and connection with different foreign nations. Hence it might and probably would happen that the foreign nation with whom the SOUTHERN confederacy might be at war would be the one with whom the NORTHERN confederacy would be the most desirous of preserving peace and friendship. An alliance so contrary to their immediate interest would not therefore be easy to form, nor, if formed, would it be observed and fulfilled with perfect good faith. Nay, it is far more probable that in America, as in Europe, neighboring nations, acting under the impulse of opposite interests and unfriendly passions, would frequently be found taking different sides. Considering our distance from Europe, it would be more natural for these confederacies to apprehend danger from one another than from distant nations, and therefore that each of them should be more desirous to guard against the others by the aid of foreign alliances, than to guard against foreign dangers by alliances between themselves. And here let us not forget how much more easy it is to receive foreign fleets into our ports, and foreign armies into our country, than it is to persuade or compel them to depart. How many conquests did the Romans and others make in the characters of allies, and what innovations did they under the same character introduce into the governments of those whom they pretended to protect. Let candid men judge, then, whether the division of America into any given number of independent sovereignties would tend to secure us against the hostilities and improper interference of foreign nations. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 6 Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, November 14, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE three last numbers of this paper have been dedicated to an enumeration of the dangers to which we should be exposed, in a state of disunion, from the arms and arts of foreign nations. I shall now proceed to delineate dangers of a different and, perhaps, still more alarming kindthose which will in all probability flow from dissensions between the States themselves, and from domestic factions and convulsions. These have been already in some instances slightly anticipated; but they deserve a more particular and more full investigation. A man must be far gone in Utopian speculations who can seriously doubt that, if these States should either be wholly disunited, or only united in partial confederacies, the subdivisions into which they might be thrown would have frequent and violent contests with each other. To presume a want of motives for such contests as an argument against their existence, would be to forget that men are ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious. To look for a continuation of harmony between a number of independent, unconnected sovereignties in the same neighborhood, would be to disregard the uniform course of human events, and to set at defiance the accumulated experience of ages. The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable. There are some which have a general and almost constant operation upon the collective bodies of society. Of this description are the love of power or the desire of preeminence and dominionthe jealousy of power, or the desire of equality and safety. There are others which have a more circumscribed though an equally operative influence within their spheres. Such are the rivalships and competitions of commerce between commercial nations. And there are others, not less numerous than either of the former, which take their origin entirely in private passions; in the attachments, enmities, interests, hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which they are members. Men of this class, whether the favorites of a king or of a people, have in too many instances abused the confidence they possessed; and assuming the pretext of some public motive, have not scrupled to sacrifice the national tranquillity to personal advantage or personal gratification. The celebrated Pericles, in compliance with the resentment of a prostitute,(1) at the expense of much of the blood and treasure of his countrymen, attacked, vanquished, and destroyed the city of the SAMMIANS. The same man, stimulated by private pique against the MEGARENSIANS,(2) another nation of Greece, or to avoid a prosecution with which he was threatened as an accomplice of a supposed theft of the statuary Phidias,(3) or to get rid of the accusations prepared to be brought against him for dissipating the funds of the state in the purchase of popularity,(4) or from a combination of all these causes, was the primitive author of that famous and fatal war, distinguished in the Grecian annals by the name of the PELOPONNESIAN war; which, after various vicissitudes, intermissions, and renewals, terminated in the ruin of the Athenian commonwealth. The ambitious cardinal, who was prime minister to Henry VIII., permitting his vanity to aspire to the triple crown,(5) entertained hopes of succeeding in the acquisition of that splendid prize by the influence of the Emperor Charles V. To secure the favor and interest of this enterprising and powerful monarch, he precipitated England into a war with France, contrary to the plainest dictates of policy, and at the hazard of the safety and independence, as well of the kingdom over which he presided by his counsels, as of Europe in general. For if there ever was a sovereign who bid fair to realize the project of universal monarchy, it was the Emperor Charles V., of whose intrigues Wolsey was at once the instrument and the dupe. The influence which the bigotry of one female,(6) the petulance of another,(7) and the cabals of a third,(8) had in the contemporary policy, ferments, and pacifications, of a considerable part of Europe, are topics that have been too often descanted upon not to be generally known. To multiply examples of the agency of personal considerations in the production of great national events, either foreign or domestic, according to their direction, would be an unnecessary waste of time. Those who have but a superficial acquaintance with the sources from which they are to be drawn, will themselves recollect a variety of instances; and those who have a tolerable knowledge of human nature will not stand in need of such lights to form their opinion either of the reality or extent of that agency. Perhaps, however, a reference, tending to illustrate the general principle, may with propriety be made to a case which has lately happened among ourselves. If Shays had not been a DESPERATE DEBTOR, it is much to be doubted whether Massachusetts would have been plunged into a civil war. But notwithstanding the concurring testimony of experience, in this particular, there are still to be found visionary or designing men, who stand ready to advocate the paradox of perpetual peace between the States, though dismembered and alienated from each other. The genius of republics (say they) is pacific; the spirit of commerce has a tendency to soften the manners of men, and to extinguish those inflammable humors which have so often kindled into wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never be disposed to waste themselves in ruinous contentions with each other. They will be governed by mutual interest, and will cultivate a spirit of mutual amity and concord. Is it not (we may ask these projectors in politics) the true interest of all nations to cultivate the same benevolent and philosophic spirit? If this be their true interest, have they in fact pursued it? Has it not, on the contrary, invariably been found that momentary passions, and immediate interest, have a more active and imperious control over human conduct than general or remote considerations of policy, utility or justice? Have republics in practice been less addicted to war than monarchies? Are not the former administered by MEN as well as the latter? Are there not aversions, predilections, rivalships, and desires of unjust acquisitions, that affect nations as well as kings? Are not popular assemblies frequently subject to the impulses of rage, resentment, jealousy, avarice, and of other irregular and violent propensities? Is it not well known that their determinations are often governed by a few individuals in whom they place confidence, and are, of course, liable to be tinctured by the passions and views of those individuals? Has commerce hitherto done anything more than change the objects of war? Is not the love of wealth as domineering and enterprising a passion as that of power or glory? Have there not been as many wars founded upon commercial motives since that has become the prevailing system of nations, as were before occasioned by the cupidity of territory or dominion? Has not the spirit of commerce, in many instances, administered new incentives to the appetite, both for the one and for the other? Let experience, the least fallible guide of human opinions, be appealed to for an answer to these inquiries. Sparta, Athens, Rome, and Carthage were all republics; two of them, Athens and Carthage, of the commercial kind. Yet were they as often engaged in wars, offensive and defensive, as the neighboring monarchies of the same times. Sparta was little better than a wellregulated camp; and Rome was never sated of carnage and conquest. Carthage, though a commercial republic, was the aggressor in the very war that ended in her destruction. Hannibal had carried her arms into the heart of Italy and to the gates of Rome, before Scipio, in turn, gave him an overthrow in the territories of Carthage, and made a conquest of the commonwealth. Venice, in later times, figured more than once in wars of ambition, till, becoming an object to the other Italian states, Pope Julius II. found means to accomplish that formidable league,(9) which gave a deadly blow to the power and pride of this haughty republic. The provinces of Holland, till they were overwhelmed in debts and taxes, took a leading and conspicuous part in the wars of Europe. They had furious contests with England for the dominion of the sea, and were among the most persevering and most implacable of the opponents of Louis XIV. In the government of Britain the representatives of the people compose one branch of the national legislature. Commerce has been for ages the predominant pursuit of that country. Few nations, nevertheless, have been more frequently engaged in war; and the wars in which that kingdom has been engaged have, in numerous instances, proceeded from the people. There have been, if I may so express it, almost as many popular as royal wars. The cries of the nation and the importunities of their representatives have, upon various occasions, dragged their monarchs into war, or continued them in it, contrary to their inclinations, and sometimes contrary to the real interests of the State. In that memorable struggle for superiority between the rival houses of AUSTRIA and BOURBON, which so long kept Europe in a flame, it is well known that the antipathies of the English against the French, seconding the ambition, or rather the avarice, of a favorite leader,(10) protracted the war beyond the limits marked out by sound policy, and for a considerable time in opposition to the views of the court. The wars of these two lastmentioned nations have in a great measure grown out of commercial considerations,the desire of supplanting and the fear of being supplanted, either in particular branches of traffic or in the general advantages of trade and navigation, and sometimes even the more culpable desire of sharing in the commerce of other nations without their consent. The last war but between Britain and Spain sprang from the attempts of the British merchants to prosecute an illicit trade with the Spanish main. These unjustifiable practices on their part produced severity on the part of the Spaniards toward the subjects of Great Britain which were not more justifiable, because they exceeded the bounds of a just retaliation and were chargeable with inhumanity and cruelty. Many of the English who were taken on the Spanish coast were sent to dig in the mines of Potosi; and by the usual progress of a spirit of resentment, the innocent were, after a while, confounded with the guilty in indiscriminate punishment. The complaints of the merchants kindled a violent flame throughout the nation, which soon after broke out in the House of Commons, and was communicated from that body to the ministry. Letters of reprisal were granted, and a war ensued, which in its consequences overthrew all the alliances that but twenty years before had been formed with sanguine expectations of the most beneficial fruits. From this summary of what has taken place in other countries, whose situations have borne the nearest resemblance to our own, what reason can we have to confide in those reveries which would seduce us into an expectation of peace and cordiality between the members of the present confederacy, in a state of separation? Have we not already seen enough of the fallacy and extravagance of those idle theories which have amused us with promises of an exemption from the imperfections, weaknesses and evils incident to society in every shape? Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden age, and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our political conduct that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and perfect virtue? Let the point of extreme depression to which our national dignity and credit have sunk, let the inconveniences felt everywhere from a lax and ill administration of government, let the revolt of a part of the State of North Carolina, the late menacing disturbances in Pennsylvania, and the actual insurrections and rebellions in Massachusetts, declare! So far is the general sense of mankind from corresponding with the tenets of those who endeavor to lull asleep our apprehensions of discord and hostility between the States, in the event of disunion, that it has from long observation of the progress of society become a sort of axiom in politics, that vicinity or nearness of situation, constitutes nations natural enemies. An intelligent writer expresses himself on this subject to this effect: \"NEIGHBORING NATIONS (says he) are naturally enemies of each other unless their common weakness forces them to league in a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC, and their constitution prevents the differences that neighborhood occasions, extinguishing that secret jealousy which disposes all states to aggrandize themselves at the expense of their neighbors.\"(11) This passage, at the same time, points out the EVIL and suggests the REMEDY. PUBLIUS 1. Aspasia, vide \"Plutarch's Life of Pericles.\" 2. Ibid. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid. Phidias was supposed to have stolen some public gold, with the connivance of Pericles, for the embellishment of the statue of Minerva. 5. Worn by the popes. 6. Madame de Maintenon. 7. Duchess of Marlborough. 8. Madame de Pompadour. 9. The League of Cambray, comprehending the Emperor, the King of France, the King of Aragon, and most of the Italian princes and states. 10. The Duke of Marlborough. 11. Vide \"Principes des Negociations\" par l'Abb de Mably. FEDERALIST No. 7 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States) For the Independent Journal. Thursday, November 15, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT IS sometimes asked, with an air of seeming triumph, what inducements could the States have, if disunited, to make war upon each other? It would be a full answer to this question to sayprecisely the same inducements which have, at different times, deluged in blood all the nations in the world. But, unfortunately for us, the question admits of a more particular answer. There are causes of differences within our immediate contemplation, of the tendency of which, even under the restraints of a federal constitution, we have had sufficient experience to enable us to form a judgment of what might be expected if those restraints were removed. Territorial disputes have at all times been found one of the most fertile sources of hostility among nations. Perhaps the greatest proportion of wars that have desolated the earth have sprung from this origin. This cause would exist among us in full force. We have a vast tract of unsettled territory within the boundaries of the United States. There still are discordant and undecided claims between several of them, and the dissolution of the Union would lay a foundation for similar claims between them all. It is well known that they have heretofore had serious and animated discussion concerning the rights to the lands which were ungranted at the time of the Revolution, and which usually went under the name of crown lands. The States within the limits of whose colonial governments they were comprised have claimed them as their property, the others have contended that the rights of the crown in this article devolved upon the Union; especially as to all that part of the Western territory which, either by actual possession, or through the submission of the Indian proprietors, was subjected to the jurisdiction of the king of Great Britain, till it was relinquished in the treaty of peace. This, it has been said, was at all events an acquisition to the Confederacy by compact with a foreign power. It has been the prudent policy of Congress to appease this controversy, by prevailing upon the States to make cessions to the United States for the benefit of the whole. This has been so far accomplished as, under a continuation of the Union, to afford a decided prospect of an amicable termination of the dispute. A dismemberment of the Confederacy, however, would revive this dispute, and would create others on the same subject. At present, a large part of the vacant Western territory is, by cession at least, if not by any anterior right, the common property of the Union. If that were at an end, the States which made the cession, on a principle of federal compromise, would be apt when the motive of the grant had ceased, to reclaim the lands as a reversion. The other States would no doubt insist on a proportion, by right of representation. Their argument would be, that a grant, once made, could not be revoked; and that the justice of participating in territory acquired or secured by the joint efforts of the Confederacy, remained undiminished. If, contrary to probability, it should be admitted by all the States, that each had a right to a share of this common stock, there would still be a difficulty to be surmounted, as to a proper rule of apportionment. Different principles would be set up by different States for this purpose; and as they would affect the opposite interests of the parties, they might not easily be susceptible of a pacific adjustment. In the wide field of Western territory, therefore, we perceive an ample theatre for hostile pretensions, without any umpire or common judge to interpose between the contending parties. To reason from the past to the future, we shall have good ground to apprehend, that the sword would sometimes be appealed to as the arbiter of their differences. The circumstances of the dispute between Connecticut and Pennsylvania, respecting the land at Wyoming, admonish us not to be sanguine in expecting an easy accommodation of such differences. The articles of confederation obliged the parties to submit the matter to the decision of a federal court. The submission was made, and the court decided in favor of Pennsylvania. But Connecticut gave strong indications of dissatisfaction with that determination; nor did she appear to be entirely resigned to it, till, by negotiation and management, something like an equivalent was found for the loss she supposed herself to have sustained. Nothing here said is intended to convey the slightest censure on the conduct of that State. She no doubt sincerely believed herself to have been injured by the decision; and States, like individuals, acquiesce with great reluctance in determinations to their disadvantage. Those who had an opportunity of seeing the inside of the transactions which attended the progress of the controversy between this State and the district of Vermont, can vouch the opposition we experienced, as well from States not interested as from those which were interested in the claim; and can attest the danger to which the peace of the Confederacy might have been exposed, had this State attempted to assert its rights by force. Two motives preponderated in that opposition: one, a jealousy entertained of our future power; and the other, the interest of certain individuals of influence in the neighboring States, who had obtained grants of lands under the actual government of that district. Even the States which brought forward claims, in contradiction to ours, seemed more solicitous to dismember this State, than to establish their own pretensions. These were New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. New Jersey and Rhode Island, upon all occasions, discovered a warm zeal for the independence of Vermont; and Maryland, till alarmed by the appearance of a connection between Canada and that State, entered deeply into the same views. These being small States, saw with an unfriendly eye the perspective of our growing greatness. In a review of these transactions we may trace some of the causes which would be likely to embroil the States with each other, if it should be their unpropitious destiny to become disunited. The competitions of commerce would be another fruitful source of contention. The States less favorably circumstanced would be desirous of escaping from the disadvantages of local situation, and of sharing in the advantages of their more fortunate neighbors. Each State, or separate confederacy, would pursue a system of commercial policy peculiar to itself. This would occasion distinctions, preferences, and exclusions, which would beget discontent. The habits of intercourse, on the basis of equal privileges, to which we have been accustomed since the earliest settlement of the country, would give a keener edge to those causes of discontent than they would naturally have independent of this circumstance. WE SHOULD BE READY TO DENOMINATE INJURIES THOSE THINGS WHICH WERE IN REALITY THE JUSTIFIABLE ACTS OF INDEPENDENT SOVEREIGNTIES CONSULTING A DISTINCT INTEREST. The spirit of enterprise, which characterizes the commercial part of America, has left no occasion of displaying itself unimproved. It is not at all probable that this unbridled spirit would pay much respect to those regulations of trade by which particular States might endeavor to secure exclusive benefits to their own citizens. The infractions of these regulations, on one side, the efforts to prevent and repel them, on the other, would naturally lead to outrages, and these to reprisals and wars. The opportunities which some States would have of rendering others tributary to them by commercial regulations would be impatiently submitted to by the tributary States. The relative situation of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey would afford an example of this kind. New York, from the necessities of revenue, must lay duties on her importations. A great part of these duties must be paid by the inhabitants of the two other States in the capacity of consumers of what we import. New York would neither be willing nor able to forego this advantage. Her citizens would not consent that a duty paid by them should be remitted in favor of the citizens of her neighbors; nor would it be practicable, if there were not this impediment in the way, to distinguish the customers in our own markets. Would Connecticut and New Jersey long submit to be taxed by New York for her exclusive benefit? Should we be long permitted to remain in the quiet and undisturbed enjoyment of a metropolis, from the possession of which we derived an advantage so odious to our neighbors, and, in their opinion, so oppressive? Should we be able to preserve it against the incumbent weight of Connecticut on the one side, and the cooperating pressure of New Jersey on the other? These are questions that temerity alone will answer in the affirmative. The public debt of the Union would be a further cause of collision between the separate States or confederacies. The apportionment, in the first instance, and the progressive extinguishment afterward, would be alike productive of illhumor and animosity. How would it be possible to agree upon a rule of apportionment satisfactory to all? There is scarcely any that can be proposed which is entirely free from real objections. These, as usual, would be exaggerated by the adverse interest of the parties. There are even dissimilar views among the States as to the general principle of discharging the public debt. Some of them, either less impressed with the importance of national credit, or because their citizens have little, if any, immediate interest in the question, feel an indifference, if not a repugnance, to the payment of the domestic debt at any rate. These would be inclined to magnify the difficulties of a distribution. Others of them, a numerous body of whose citizens are creditors to the public beyond proportion of the State in the total amount of the national debt, would be strenuous for some equitable and effective provision. The procrastinations of the former would excite the resentments of the latter. The settlement of a rule would, in the meantime, be postponed by real differences of opinion and affected delays. The citizens of the States interested would clamour; foreign powers would urge for the satisfaction of their just demands, and the peace of the States would be hazarded to the double contingency of external invasion and internal contention. Suppose the difficulties of agreeing upon a rule surmounted, and the apportionment made. Still there is great room to suppose that the rule agreed upon would, upon experiment, be found to bear harder upon some States than upon others. Those which were sufferers by it would naturally seek for a mitigation of the burden. The others would as naturally be disinclined to a revision, which was likely to end in an increase of their own incumbrances. Their refusal would be too plausible a pretext to the complaining States to withhold their contributions, not to be embraced with avidity; and the noncompliance of these States with their engagements would be a ground of bitter discussion and altercation. If even the rule adopted should in practice justify the equality of its principle, still delinquencies in payments on the part of some of the States would result from a diversity of other causesthe real deficiency of resources; the mismanagement of their finances; accidental disorders in the management of the government; and, in addition to the rest, the reluctance with which men commonly part with money for purposes that have outlived the exigencies which produced them, and interfere with the supply of immediate wants. Delinquencies, from whatever causes, would be productive of complaints, recriminations, and quarrels. There is, perhaps, nothing more likely to disturb the tranquillity of nations than their being bound to mutual contributions for any common object that does not yield an equal and coincident benefit. For it is an observation, as true as it is trite, that there is nothing men differ so readily about as the payment of money. Laws in violation of private contracts, as they amount to aggressions on the rights of those States whose citizens are injured by them, may be considered as another probable source of hostility. We are not authorized to expect that a more liberal or more equitable spirit would preside over the legislations of the individual States hereafter, if unrestrained by any additional checks, than we have heretofore seen in too many instances disgracing their several codes. We have observed the disposition to retaliation excited in Connecticut in consequence of the enormities perpetrated by the Legislature of Rhode Island; and we reasonably infer that, in similar cases, under other circumstances, a war, not of PARCHMENT, but of the sword, would chastise such atrocious breaches of moral obligation and social justice. The probability of incompatible alliances between the different States or confederacies and different foreign nations, and the effects of this situation upon the peace of the whole, have been sufficiently unfolded in some preceding papers. From the view they have exhibited of this part of the subject, this conclusion is to be drawn, that America, if not connected at all, or only by the feeble tie of a simple league, offensive and defensive, would, by the operation of such jarring alliances, be gradually entangled in all the pernicious labyrinths of European politics and wars; and by the destructive contentions of the parts into which she was divided, would be likely to become a prey to the artifices and machinations of powers equally the enemies of them all. Divide et impera(1) must be the motto of every nation that either hates or fears us.(2) PUBLIUS 1. Divide and command. 2. In order that the whole subject of these papers may as soon as possible be laid before the public, it is proposed to publish them four times a weekon Tuesday in the New York Packet and on Thursday in the Daily Advertiser. FEDERALIST No. 8 The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States From the New York Packet. Tuesday, November 20, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: ASSUMING it therefore as an established truth that the several States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy, would be subject to those vicissitudes of peace and war, of friendship and enmity, with each other, which have fallen to the lot of all neighboring nations not united under one government, let us enter into a concise detail of some of the consequences that would attend such a situation. War between the States, in the first period of their separate existence, would be accompanied with much greater distresses than it commonly is in those countries where regular military establishments have long obtained. The disciplined armies always kept on foot on the continent of Europe, though they bear a malignant aspect to liberty and economy, have, notwithstanding, been productive of the signal advantage of rendering sudden conquests impracticable, and of preventing that rapid desolation which used to mark the progress of war prior to their introduction. The art of fortification has contributed to the same ends. The nations of Europe are encircled with chains of fortified places, which mutually obstruct invasion. Campaigns are wasted in reducing two or three frontier garrisons, to gain admittance into an enemy's country. Similar impediments occur at every step, to exhaust the strength and delay the progress of an invader. Formerly, an invading army would penetrate into the heart of a neighboring country almost as soon as intelligence of its approach could be received; but now a comparatively small force of disciplined troops, acting on the defensive, with the aid of posts, is able to impede, and finally to frustrate, the enterprises of one much more considerable. The history of war, in that quarter of the globe, is no longer a history of nations subdued and empires overturned, but of towns taken and retaken; of battles that decide nothing; of retreats more beneficial than victories; of much effort and little acquisition. In this country the scene would be altogether reversed. The jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as long as possible. The want of fortifications, leaving the frontiers of one state open to another, would facilitate inroads. The populous States would, with little difficulty, overrun their less populous neighbors. Conquests would be as easy to be made as difficult to be retained. War, therefore, would be desultory and predatory. PLUNDER and devastation ever march in the train of irregulars. The calamities of individuals would make the principal figure in the events which would characterize our military exploits. This picture is not too highly wrought; though, I confess, it would not long remain a just one. Safety from external danger is the most powerful director of national conduct. Even the ardent love of liberty will, after a time, give way to its dictates. The violent destruction of life and property incident to war, the continual effort and alarm attendant on a state of continual danger, will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for repose and security to institutions which have a tendency to destroy their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they at length become willing to run the risk of being less free. The institutions chiefly alluded to are STANDING ARMIES and the correspondent appendages of military establishments. Standing armies, it is said, are not provided against in the new Constitution; and it is therefore inferred that they may exist under it.(1) Their existence, however, from the very terms of the proposition, is, at most, problematical and uncertain. But standing armies, it may be replied, must inevitably result from a dissolution of the Confederacy. Frequent war and constant apprehension, which require a state of as constant preparation, will infallibly produce them. The weaker States or confederacies would first have recourse to them, to put themselves upon an equality with their more potent neighbors. They would endeavor to supply the inferiority of population and resources by a more regular and effective system of defense, by disciplined troops, and by fortifications. They would, at the same time, be necessitated to strengthen the executive arm of government, in doing which their constitutions would acquire a progressive direction toward monarchy. It is of the nature of war to increase the executive at the expense of the legislative authority. The expedients which have been mentioned would soon give the States or confederacies that made use of them a superiority over their neighbors. Small states, or states of less natural strength, under vigorous governments, and with the assistance of disciplined armies, have often triumphed over large states, or states of greater natural strength, which have been destitute of these advantages. Neither the pride nor the safety of the more important States or confederacies would permit them long to submit to this mortifying and adventitious superiority. They would quickly resort to means similar to those by which it had been effected, to reinstate themselves in their lost preeminence. Thus, we should, in a little time, see established in every part of this country the same engines of despotism which have been the scourge of the Old World. This, at least, would be the natural course of things; and our reasonings will be the more likely to be just, in proportion as they are accommodated to this standard. These are not vague inferences drawn from supposed or speculative defects in a Constitution, the whole power of which is lodged in the hands of a people, or their representatives and delegates, but they are solid conclusions, drawn from the natural and necessary progress of human affairs. It may, perhaps, be asked, by way of objection to this, why did not standing armies spring up out of the contentions which so often distracted the ancient republics of Greece? Different answers, equally satisfactory, may be given to this question. The industrious habits of the people of the present day, absorbed in the pursuits of gain, and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and commerce, are incompatible with the condition of a nation of soldiers, which was the true condition of the people of those republics. The means of revenue, which have been so greatly multiplied by the increase of gold and silver and of the arts of industry, and the science of finance, which is the offspring of modern times, concurring with the habits of nations, have produced an entire revolution in the system of war, and have rendered disciplined armies, distinct from the body of the citizens, the inseparable companions of frequent hostility. There is a wide difference, also, between military establishments in a country seldom exposed by its situation to internal invasions, and in one which is often subject to them, and always apprehensive of them. The rulers of the former can have no good pretext, if they are even so inclined, to keep on foot armies so numerous as must of necessity be maintained in the latter. These armies being, in the first case, rarely, if at all, called into activity for interior defense, the people are in no danger of being broken to military subordination. The laws are not accustomed to relaxations, in favor of military exigencies; the civil state remains in full vigor, neither corrupted, nor confounded with the principles or propensities of the other state. The smallness of the army renders the natural strength of the community an overmatch for it; and the citizens, not habituated to look up to the military power for protection, or to submit to its oppressions, neither love nor fear the soldiery; they view them with a spirit of jealous acquiescence in a necessary evil, and stand ready to resist a power which they suppose may be exerted to the prejudice of their rights. The army under such circumstances may usefully aid the magistrate to suppress a small faction, or an occasional mob, or insurrection; but it will be unable to enforce encroachments against the united efforts of the great body of the people. In a country in the predicament last described, the contrary of all this happens. The perpetual menacings of danger oblige the government to be always prepared to repel it; its armies must be numerous enough for instant defense. The continual necessity for their services enhances the importance of the soldier, and proportionably degrades the condition of the citizen. The military state becomes elevated above the civil. The inhabitants of territories, often the theatre of war, are unavoidably subjected to frequent infringements on their rights, which serve to weaken their sense of those rights; and by degrees the people are brought to consider the soldiery not only as their protectors, but as their superiors. The transition from this disposition to that of considering them masters, is neither remote nor difficult; but it is very difficult to prevail upon a people under such impressions, to make a bold or effectual resistance to usurpations supported by the military power. The kingdom of Great Britain falls within the first description. An insular situation, and a powerful marine, guarding it in a great measure against the possibility of foreign invasion, supersede the necessity of a numerous army within the kingdom. A sufficient force to make head against a sudden descent, till the militia could have time to rally and embody, is all that has been deemed requisite. No motive of national policy has demanded, nor would public opinion have tolerated, a larger number of troops upon its domestic establishment. There has been, for a long time past, little room for the operation of the other causes, which have been enumerated as the consequences of internal war. This peculiar felicity of situation has, in a great degree, contributed to preserve the liberty which that country to this day enjoys, in spite of the prevalent venality and corruption. If, on the contrary, Britain had been situated on the continent, and had been compelled, as she would have been, by that situation, to make her military establishments at home coextensive with those of the other great powers of Europe, she, like them, would in all probability be, at this day, a victim to the absolute power of a single man. It is possible, though not easy, that the people of that island may be enslaved from other causes; but it cannot be by the prowess of an army so inconsiderable as that which has been usually kept up within the kingdom. If we are wise enough to preserve the Union we may for ages enjoy an advantage similar to that of an insulated situation. Europe is at a great distance from us. Her colonies in our vicinity will be likely to continue too much disproportioned in strength to be able to give us any dangerous annoyance. Extensive military establishments cannot, in this position, be necessary to our security. But if we should be disunited, and the integral parts should either remain separated, or, which is most probable, should be thrown together into two or three confederacies, we should be, in a short course of time, in the predicament of the continental powers of Europeour liberties would be a prey to the means of defending ourselves against the ambition and jealousy of each other. This is an idea not superficial or futile, but solid and weighty. It deserves the most serious and mature consideration of every prudent and honest man of whatever party. If such men will make a firm and solemn pause, and meditate dispassionately on the importance of this interesting idea; if they will contemplate it in all its attitudes, and trace it to all its consequences, they will not hesitate to part with trivial objections to a Constitution, the rejection of which would in all probability put a final period to the Union. The airy phantoms that flit before the distempered imaginations of some of its adversaries would quickly give place to the more substantial forms of dangers, real, certain, and formidable. PUBLIUS 1. This objection will be fully examined in its proper place, and it will be shown that the only natural precaution which could have been taken on this subject has been taken; and a much better one than is to be found in any constitution that has been heretofore framed in America, most of which contain no guard at all on this subject. FEDERALIST No. 9 The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, November 21, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: A FIRM Union will be of the utmost moment to the peace and liberty of the States, as a barrier against domestic faction and insurrection. It is impossible to read the history of the petty republics of Greece and Italy without feeling sensations of horror and disgust at the distractions with which they were continually agitated, and at the rapid succession of revolutions by which they were kept in a state of perpetual vibration between the extremes of tyranny and anarchy. If they exhibit occasional calms, these only serve as shortlived contrast to the furious storms that are to succeed. If now and then intervals of felicity open to view, we behold them with a mixture of regret, arising from the reflection that the pleasing scenes before us are soon to be overwhelmed by the tempestuous waves of sedition and party rage. If momentary rays of glory break forth from the gloom, while they dazzle us with a transient and fleeting brilliancy, they at the same time admonish us to lament that the vices of government should pervert the direction and tarnish the lustre of those bright talents and exalted endowments for which the favored soils that produced them have been so justly celebrated. From the disorders that disfigure the annals of those republics the advocates of despotism have drawn arguments, not only against the forms of republican government, but against the very principles of civil liberty. They have decried all free government as inconsistent with the order of society, and have indulged themselves in malicious exultation over its friends and partisans. Happily for mankind, stupendous fabrics reared on the basis of liberty, which have flourished for ages, have, in a few glorious instances, refuted their gloomy sophisms. And, I trust, America will be the broad and solid foundation of other edifices, not less magnificent, which will be equally permanent monuments of their errors. But it is not to be denied that the portraits they have sketched of republican government were too just copies of the originals from which they were taken. If it had been found impracticable to have devised models of a more perfect structure, the enlightened friends to liberty would have been obliged to abandon the cause of that species of government as indefensible. The science of politics, however, like most other sciences, has received great improvement. The efficacy of various principles is now well understood, which were either not known at all, or imperfectly known to the ancients. The regular distribution of power into distinct departments; the introduction of legislative balances and checks; the institution of courts composed of judges holding their offices during good behavior; the representation of the people in the legislature by deputies of their own election: these are wholly new discoveries, or have made their principal progress towards perfection in modern times. They are means, and powerful means, by which the excellences of republican government may be retained and its imperfections lessened or avoided. To this catalogue of circumstances that tend to the amelioration of popular systems of civil government, I shall venture, however novel it may appear to some, to add one more, on a principle which has been made the foundation of an objection to the new Constitution; I mean the ENLARGEMENT of the ORBIT within which such systems are to revolve, either in respect to the dimensions of a single State or to the consolidation of several smaller States into one great Confederacy. The latter is that which immediately concerns the object under consideration. It will, however, be of use to examine the principle in its application to a single State, which shall be attended to in another place. The utility of a Confederacy, as well to suppress faction and to guard the internal tranquillity of States, as to increase their external force and security, is in reality not a new idea. It has been practiced upon in different countries and ages, and has received the sanction of the most approved writers on the subject of politics. The opponents of the plan proposed have, with great assiduity, cited and circulated the observations of Montesquieu on the necessity of a contracted territory for a republican government. But they seem not to have been apprised of the sentiments of that great man expressed in another part of his work, nor to have adverted to the consequences of the principle to which they subscribe with such ready acquiescence. When Montesquieu recommends a small extent for republics, the standards he had in view were of dimensions far short of the limits of almost every one of these States. Neither Virginia, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New York, North Carolina, nor Georgia can by any means be compared with the models from which he reasoned and to which the terms of his description apply. If we therefore take his ideas on this point as the criterion of truth, we shall be driven to the alternative either of taking refuge at once in the arms of monarchy, or of splitting ourselves into an infinity of little, jealous, clashing, tumultuous commonwealths, the wretched nurseries of unceasing discord, and the miserable objects of universal pity or contempt. Some of the writers who have come forward on the other side of the question seem to have been aware of the dilemma; and have even been bold enough to hint at the division of the larger States as a desirable thing. Such an infatuated policy, such a desperate expedient, might, by the multiplication of petty offices, answer the views of men who possess not qualifications to extend their influence beyond the narrow circles of personal intrigue, but it could never promote the greatness or happiness of the people of America. Referring the examination of the principle itself to another place, as has been already mentioned, it will be sufficient to remark here that, in the sense of the author who has been most emphatically quoted upon the occasion, it would only dictate a reduction of the SIZE of the more considerable MEMBERS of the Union, but would not militate against their being all comprehended in one confederate government. And this is the true question, in the discussion of which we are at present interested. So far are the suggestions of Montesquieu from standing in opposition to a general Union of the States, that he explicitly treats of a confederate republic as the expedient for extending the sphere of popular government, and reconciling the advantages of monarchy with those of republicanism. \"It is very probable,\" (says he(1)) \"that mankind would have been obliged at length to live constantly under the government of a single person, had they not contrived a kind of constitution that has all the internal advantages of a republican, together with the external force of a monarchical government. I mean a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC.\" \"This form of government is a convention by which several smaller STATES agree to become members of a larger ONE, which they intend to form. It is a kind of assemblage of societies that constitute a new one, capable of increasing, by means of new associations, till they arrive to such a degree of power as to be able to provide for the security of the united body.\" \"A republic of this kind, able to withstand an external force, may support itself without any internal corruptions. The form of this society prevents all manner of inconveniences.\" \"If a single member should attempt to usurp the supreme authority, he could not be supposed to have an equal authority and credit in all the confederate states. Were he to have too great influence over one, this would alarm the rest. Were he to subdue a part, that which would still remain free might oppose him with forces independent of those which he had usurped and overpower him before he could be settled in his usurpation.\" \"Should a popular insurrection happen in one of the confederate states the others are able to quell it. Should abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound. The state may be destroyed on one side, and not on the other; the confederacy may be dissolved, and the confederates preserve their sovereignty.\" \"As this government is composed of small republics, it enjoys the internal happiness of each; and with respect to its external situation, it is possessed, by means of the association, of all the advantages of large monarchies.\" I have thought it proper to quote at length these interesting passages, because they contain a luminous abridgment of the principal arguments in favor of the Union, and must effectually remove the false impressions which a misapplication of other parts of the work was calculated to make. They have, at the same time, an intimate connection with the more immediate design of this paper; which is, to illustrate the tendency of the Union to repress domestic faction and insurrection. A distinction, more subtle than accurate, has been raised between a CONFEDERACY and a CONSOLIDATION of the States. The essential characteristic of the first is said to be, the restriction of its authority to the members in their collective capacities, without reaching to the individuals of whom they are composed. It is contended that the national council ought to have no concern with any object of internal administration. An exact equality of suffrage between the members has also been insisted upon as a leading feature of a confederate government. These positions are, in the main, arbitrary; they are supported neither by principle nor precedent. It has indeed happened, that governments of this kind have generally operated in the manner which the distinction taken notice of, supposes to be inherent in their nature; but there have been in most of them extensive exceptions to the practice, which serve to prove, as far as example will go, that there is no absolute rule on the subject. And it will be clearly shown in the course of this investigation that as far as the principle contended for has prevailed, it has been the cause of incurable disorder and imbecility in the government. The definition of a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC seems simply to be \"an assemblage of societies,\" or an association of two or more states into one state. The extent, modifications, and objects of the federal authority are mere matters of discretion. So long as the separate organization of the members be not abolished; so long as it exists, by a constitutional necessity, for local purposes; though it should be in perfect subordination to the general authority of the union, it would still be, in fact and in theory, an association of states, or a confederacy. The proposed Constitution, so far from implying an abolition of the State governments, makes them constituent parts of the national sovereignty, by allowing them a direct representation in the Senate, and leaves in their possession certain exclusive and very important portions of sovereign power. This fully corresponds, in every rational import of the terms, with the idea of a federal government. In the Lycian confederacy, which consisted of twentythree CITIES or republics, the largest were entitled to THREE votes in the COMMON COUNCIL, those of the middle class to TWO, and the smallest to ONE. The COMMON COUNCIL had the appointment of all the judges and magistrates of the respective CITIES. This was certainly the most, delicate species of interference in their internal administration; for if there be any thing that seems exclusively appropriated to the local jurisdictions, it is the appointment of their own officers. Yet Montesquieu, speaking of this association, says: \"Were I to give a model of an excellent Confederate Republic, it would be that of Lycia.\" Thus we perceive that the distinctions insisted upon were not within the contemplation of this enlightened civilian; and we shall be led to conclude, that they are the novel refinements of an erroneous theory. PUBLIUS 1. \"Spirit of Laws,\" vol. i., book ix., chap. i. FEDERALIST No. 10 The Same Subject Continued (The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection) From the Daily Advertiser. Thursday, November 22, 1787. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: AMONG the numerous advantages promised by a well constructed Union, none deserves to be more accurately developed than its tendency to break and control the violence of faction. The friend of popular governments never finds himself so much alarmed for their character and fate, as when he contemplates their propensity to this dangerous vice. He will not fail, therefore, to set a due value on any plan which, without violating the principles to which he is attached, provides a proper cure for it. The instability, injustice, and confusion introduced into the public councils, have, in truth, been the mortal diseases under which popular governments have everywhere perished; as they continue to be the favorite and fruitful topics from which the adversaries to liberty derive their most specious declamations. The valuable improvements made by the American constitutions on the popular models, both ancient and modern, cannot certainly be too much admired; but it would be an unwarrantable partiality, to contend that they have as effectually obviated the danger on this side, as was wished and expected. Complaints are everywhere heard from our most considerate and virtuous citizens, equally the friends of public and private faith, and of public and personal liberty, that our governments are too unstable, that the public good is disregarded in the conflicts of rival parties, and that measures are too often decided, not according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority. However anxiously we may wish that these complaints had no foundation, the evidence, of known facts will not permit us to deny that they are in some degree true. It will be found, indeed, on a candid review of our situation, that some of the distresses under which we labor have been erroneously charged on the operation of our governments; but it will be found, at the same time, that other causes will not alone account for many of our heaviest misfortunes; and, particularly, for that prevailing and increasing distrust of public engagements, and alarm for private rights, which are echoed from one end of the continent to the other. These must be chiefly, if not wholly, effects of the unsteadiness and injustice with which a factious spirit has tainted our public administrations. By a faction, I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adversed to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community. There are two methods of curing the mischiefs of faction: the one, by removing its causes; the other, by controlling its effects. There are again two methods of removing the causes of faction: the one, by destroying the liberty which is essential to its existence; the other, by giving to every citizen the same opinions, the same passions, and the same interests. It could never be more truly said than of the first remedy, that it was worse than the disease. Liberty is to faction what air is to fire, an aliment without which it instantly expires. But it could not be less folly to abolish liberty, which is essential to political life, because it nourishes faction, than it would be to wish the annihilation of air, which is essential to animal life, because it imparts to fire its destructive agency. The second expedient is as impracticable as the first would be unwise. As long as the reason of man continues fallible, and he is at liberty to exercise it, different opinions will be formed. As long as the connection subsists between his reason and his selflove, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal influence on each other; and the former will be objects to which the latter will attach themselves. The diversity in the faculties of men, from which the rights of property originate, is not less an insuperable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. The protection of these faculties is the first object of government. From the protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring property, the possession of different degrees and kinds of property immediately results; and from the influence of these on the sentiments and views of the respective proprietors, ensues a division of the society into different interests and parties. The latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man; and we see them everywhere brought into different degrees of activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society. A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of practice; an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending for preeminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions, have, in turn, divided mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress each other than to cooperate for their common good. So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities, that where no substantial occasion presents itself, the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts. But the most common and durable source of factions has been the various and unequal distribution of property. Those who hold and those who are without property have ever formed distinct interests in society. Those who are creditors, and those who are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views. The regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the principal task of modern legislation, and involves the spirit of party and faction in the necessary and ordinary operations of the government. No man is allowed to be a judge in his own cause, because his interest would certainly bias his judgment, and, not improbably, corrupt his integrity. With equal, nay with greater reason, a body of men are unfit to be both judges and parties at the same time; yet what are many of the most important acts of legislation, but so many judicial determinations, not indeed concerning the rights of single persons, but concerning the rights of large bodies of citizens? And what are the different classes of legislators but advocates and parties to the causes which they determine? Is a law proposed concerning private debts? It is a question to which the creditors are parties on one side and the debtors on the other. Justice ought to hold the balance between them. Yet the parties are, and must be, themselves the judges; and the most numerous party, or, in other words, the most powerful faction must be expected to prevail. Shall domestic manufactures be encouraged, and in what degree, by restrictions on foreign manufactures? are questions which would be differently decided by the landed and the manufacturing classes, and probably by neither with a sole regard to justice and the public good. The apportionment of taxes on the various descriptions of property is an act which seems to require the most exact impartiality; yet there is, perhaps, no legislative act in which greater opportunity and temptation are given to a predominant party to trample on the rules of justice. Every shilling with which they overburden the inferior number, is a shilling saved to their own pockets. It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust these clashing interests, and render them all subservient to the public good. Enlightened statesmen will not always be at the helm. Nor, in many cases, can such an adjustment be made at all without taking into view indirect and remote considerations, which will rarely prevail over the immediate interest which one party may find in disregarding the rights of another or the good of the whole. The inference to which we are brought is, that the CAUSES of faction cannot be removed, and that relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its EFFECTS. If a faction consists of less than a majority, relief is supplied by the republican principle, which enables the majority to defeat its sinister views by regular vote. It may clog the administration, it may convulse the society; but it will be unable to execute and mask its violence under the forms of the Constitution. When a majority is included in a faction, the form of popular government, on the other hand, enables it to sacrifice to its ruling passion or interest both the public good and the rights of other citizens. To secure the public good and private rights against the danger of such a faction, and at the same time to preserve the spirit and the form of popular government, is then the great object to which our inquiries are directed. Let me add that it is the great desideratum by which this form of government can be rescued from the opprobrium under which it has so long labored, and be recommended to the esteem and adoption of mankind. By what means is this object attainable? Evidently by one of two only. Either the existence of the same passion or interest in a majority at the same time must be prevented, or the majority, having such coexistent passion or interest, must be rendered, by their number and local situation, unable to concert and carry into effect schemes of oppression. If the impulse and the opportunity be suffered to coincide, we well know that neither moral nor religious motives can be relied on as an adequate control. They are not found to be such on the injustice and violence of individuals, and lose their efficacy in proportion to the number combined together, that is, in proportion as their efficacy becomes needful. From this view of the subject it may be concluded that a pure democracy, by which I mean a society consisting of a small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the government in person, can admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the whole; a communication and concert result from the form of government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker party or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is that such democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths. Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of government, have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions. A republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme of representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in which it varies from pure democracy, and we shall comprehend both the nature of the cure and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union. The two great points of difference between a democracy and a republic are: first, the delegation of the government, in the latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest; secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of country, over which the latter may be extended. The effect of the first difference is, on the one hand, to refine and enlarge the public views, by passing them through the medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best discern the true interest of their country, and whose patriotism and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial considerations. Under such a regulation, it may well happen that the public voice, pronounced by the representatives of the people, will be more consonant to the public good than if pronounced by the people themselves, convened for the purpose. On the other hand, the effect may be inverted. Men of factious tempers, of local prejudices, or of sinister designs, may, by intrigue, by corruption, or by other means, first obtain the suffrages, and then betray the interests, of the people. The question resulting is, whether small or extensive republics are more favorable to the election of proper guardians of the public weal; and it is clearly decided in favor of the latter by two obvious considerations: In the first place, it is to be remarked that, however small the republic may be, the representatives must be raised to a certain number, in order to guard against the cabals of a few; and that, however large it may be, they must be limited to a certain number, in order to guard against the confusion of a multitude. Hence, the number of representatives in the two cases not being in proportion to that of the two constituents, and being proportionally greater in the small republic, it follows that, if the proportion of fit characters be not less in the large than in the small republic, the former will present a greater option, and consequently a greater probability of a fit choice. In the next place, as each representative will be chosen by a greater number of citizens in the large than in the small republic, it will be more difficult for unworthy candidates to practice with success the vicious arts by which elections are too often carried; and the suffrages of the people being more free, will be more likely to centre in men who possess the most attractive merit and the most diffusive and established characters. It must be confessed that in this, as in most other cases, there is a mean, on both sides of which inconveniences will be found to lie. By enlarging too much the number of electors, you render the representatives too little acquainted with all their local circumstances and lesser interests; as by reducing it too much, you render him unduly attached to these, and too little fit to comprehend and pursue great and national objects. The federal Constitution forms a happy combination in this respect; the great and aggregate interests being referred to the national, the local and particular to the State legislatures. The other point of difference is, the greater number of citizens and extent of territory which may be brought within the compass of republican than of democratic government; and it is this circumstance principally which renders factious combinations less to be dreaded in the former than in the latter. The smaller the society, the fewer probably will be the distinct parties and interests composing it; the fewer the distinct parties and interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of the same party; and the smaller the number of individuals composing a majority, and the smaller the compass within which they are placed, the more easily will they concert and execute their plans of oppression. Extend the sphere, and you take in a greater variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motive exists, it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength, and to act in unison with each other. Besides other impediments, it may be remarked that, where there is a consciousness of unjust or dishonorable purposes, communication is always checked by distrust in proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary. Hence, it clearly appears, that the same advantage which a republic has over a democracy, in controlling the effects of faction, is enjoyed by a large over a small republic,is enjoyed by the Union over the States composing it. Does the advantage consist in the substitution of representatives whose enlightened views and virtuous sentiments render them superior to local prejudices and schemes of injustice? It will not be denied that the representation of the Union will be most likely to possess these requisite endowments. Does it consist in the greater security afforded by a greater variety of parties, against the event of any one party being able to outnumber and oppress the rest? In an equal degree does the increased variety of parties comprised within the Union, increase this security. Does it, in fine, consist in the greater obstacles opposed to the concert and accomplishment of the secret wishes of an unjust and interested majority? Here, again, the extent of the Union gives it the most palpable advantage. The influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within their particular States, but will be unable to spread a general conflagration through the other States. A religious sect may degenerate into a political faction in a part of the Confederacy; but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it must secure the national councils against any danger from that source. A rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the Union than a particular member of it; in the same proportion as such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or district, than an entire State. In the extent and proper structure of the Union, therefore, we behold a republican remedy for the diseases most incident to republican government. And according to the degree of pleasure and pride we feel in being republicans, ought to be our zeal in cherishing the spirit and supporting the character of Federalists. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 11 The Utility of the Union in Respect to Commercial Relations and a Navy For the Independent Journal. Saturday, November 24, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE importance of the Union, in a commercial light, is one of those points about which there is least room to entertain a difference of opinion, and which has, in fact, commanded the most general assent of men who have any acquaintance with the subject. This applies as well to our intercourse with foreign countries as with each other. There are appearances to authorize a supposition that the adventurous spirit, which distinguishes the commercial character of America, has already excited uneasy sensations in several of the maritime powers of Europe. They seem to be apprehensive of our too great interference in that carrying trade, which is the support of their navigation and the foundation of their naval strength. Those of them which have colonies in America look forward to what this country is capable of becoming, with painful solicitude. They foresee the dangers that may threaten their American dominions from the neighborhood of States, which have all the dispositions, and would possess all the means, requisite to the creation of a powerful marine. Impressions of this kind will naturally indicate the policy of fostering divisions among us, and of depriving us, as far as possible, of an ACTIVE COMMERCE in our own bottoms. This would answer the threefold purpose of preventing our interference in their navigation, of monopolizing the profits of our trade, and of clipping the wings by which we might soar to a dangerous greatness. Did not prudence forbid the detail, it would not be difficult to trace, by facts, the workings of this policy to the cabinets of ministers. If we continue united, we may counteract a policy so unfriendly to our prosperity in a variety of ways. By prohibitory regulations, extending, at the same time, throughout the States, we may oblige foreign countries to bid against each other, for the privileges of our markets. This assertion will not appear chimerical to those who are able to appreciate the importance of the markets of three millions of peopleincreasing in rapid progression, for the most part exclusively addicted to agriculture, and likely from local circumstances to remain soto any manufacturing nation; and the immense difference there would be to the trade and navigation of such a nation, between a direct communication in its own ships, and an indirect conveyance of its products and returns, to and from America, in the ships of another country. Suppose, for instance, we had a government in America, capable of excluding Great Britain (with whom we have at present no treaty of commerce) from all our ports; what would be the probable operation of this step upon her politics? Would it not enable us to negotiate, with the fairest prospect of success, for commercial privileges of the most valuable and extensive kind, in the dominions of that kingdom? When these questions have been asked, upon other occasions, they have received a plausible, but not a solid or satisfactory answer. It has been said that prohibitions on our part would produce no change in the system of Britain, because she could prosecute her trade with us through the medium of the Dutch, who would be her immediate customers and paymasters for those articles which were wanted for the supply of our markets. But would not her navigation be materially injured by the loss of the important advantage of being her own carrier in that trade? Would not the principal part of its profits be intercepted by the Dutch, as a compensation for their agency and risk? Would not the mere circumstance of freight occasion a considerable deduction? Would not so circuitous an intercourse facilitate the competitions of other nations, by enhancing the price of British commodities in our markets, and by transferring to other hands the management of this interesting branch of the British commerce? A mature consideration of the objects suggested by these questions will justify a belief that the real disadvantages to Britain from such a state of things, conspiring with the prepossessions of a great part of the nation in favor of the American trade, and with the importunities of the West India islands, would produce a relaxation in her present system, and would let us into the enjoyment of privileges in the markets of those islands elsewhere, from which our trade would derive the most substantial benefits. Such a point gained from the British government, and which could not be expected without an equivalent in exemptions and immunities in our markets, would be likely to have a correspondent effect on the conduct of other nations, who would not be inclined to see themselves altogether supplanted in our trade. A further resource for influencing the conduct of European nations toward us, in this respect, would arise from the establishment of a federal navy. There can be no doubt that the continuance of the Union under an efficient government would put it in our power, at a period not very distant, to create a navy which, if it could not vie with those of the great maritime powers, would at least be of respectable weight if thrown into the scale of either of two contending parties. This would be more peculiarly the case in relation to operations in the West Indies. A few ships of the line, sent opportunely to the reinforcement of either side, would often be sufficient to decide the fate of a campaign, on the event of which interests of the greatest magnitude were suspended. Our position is, in this respect, a most commanding one. And if to this consideration we add that of the usefulness of supplies from this country, in the prosecution of military operations in the West Indies, it will readily be perceived that a situation so favorable would enable us to bargain with great advantage for commercial privileges. A price would be set not only upon our friendship, but upon our neutrality. By a steady adherence to the Union we may hope, erelong, to become the arbiter of Europe in America, and to be able to incline the balance of European competitions in this part of the world as our interest may dictate. But in the reverse of this eligible situation, we shall discover that the rivalships of the parts would make them checks upon each other, and would frustrate all the tempting advantages which nature has kindly placed within our reach. In a state so insignificant our commerce would be a prey to the wanton intermeddlings of all nations at war with each other; who, having nothing to fear from us, would with little scruple or remorse, supply their wants by depredations on our property as often as it fell in their way. The rights of neutrality will only be respected when they are defended by an adequate power. A nation, despicable by its weakness, forfeits even the privilege of being neutral. Under a vigorous national government, the natural strength and resources of the country, directed to a common interest, would baffle all the combinations of European jealousy to restrain our growth. This situation would even take away the motive to such combinations, by inducing an impracticability of success. An active commerce, an extensive navigation, and a flourishing marine would then be the offspring of moral and physical necessity. We might defy the little arts of the little politicians to control or vary the irresistible and unchangeable course of nature. But in a state of disunion, these combinations might exist and might operate with success. It would be in the power of the maritime nations, availing themselves of our universal impotence, to prescribe the conditions of our political existence; and as they have a common interest in being our carriers, and still more in preventing our becoming theirs, they would in all probability combine to embarrass our navigation in such a manner as would in effect destroy it, and confine us to a PASSIVE COMMERCE. We should then be compelled to content ourselves with the first price of our commodities, and to see the profits of our trade snatched from us to enrich our enemies and persecutors. That unequaled spirit of enterprise, which signalizes the genius of the American merchants and navigators, and which is in itself an inexhaustible mine of national wealth, would be stifled and lost, and poverty and disgrace would overspread a country which, with wisdom, might make herself the admiration and envy of the world. There are rights of great moment to the trade of America which are rights of the UnionI allude to the fisheries, to the navigation of the Western lakes, and to that of the Mississippi. The dissolution of the Confederacy would give room for delicate questions concerning the future existence of these rights; which the interest of more powerful partners would hardly fail to solve to our disadvantage. The disposition of Spain with regard to the Mississippi needs no comment. France and Britain are concerned with us in the fisheries, and view them as of the utmost moment to their navigation. They, of course, would hardly remain long indifferent to that decided mastery, of which experience has shown us to be possessed in this valuable branch of traffic, and by which we are able to undersell those nations in their own markets. What more natural than that they should be disposed to exclude from the lists such dangerous competitors? This branch of trade ought not to be considered as a partial benefit. All the navigating States may, in different degrees, advantageously participate in it, and under circumstances of a greater extension of mercantile capital, would not be unlikely to do it. As a nursery of seamen, it now is, or when time shall have more nearly assimilated the principles of navigation in the several States, will become, a universal resource. To the establishment of a navy, it must be indispensable. To this great national object, a NAVY, union will contribute in various ways. Every institution will grow and flourish in proportion to the quantity and extent of the means concentred towards its formation and support. A navy of the United States, as it would embrace the resources of all, is an object far less remote than a navy of any single State or partial confederacy, which would only embrace the resources of a single part. It happens, indeed, that different portions of confederated America possess each some peculiar advantage for this essential establishment. The more southern States furnish in greater abundance certain kinds of naval storestar, pitch, and turpentine. Their wood for the construction of ships is also of a more solid and lasting texture. The difference in the duration of the ships of which the navy might be composed, if chiefly constructed of Southern wood, would be of signal importance, either in the view of naval strength or of national economy. Some of the Southern and of the Middle States yield a greater plenty of iron, and of better quality. Seamen must chiefly be drawn from the Northern hive. The necessity of naval protection to external or maritime commerce does not require a particular elucidation, no more than the conduciveness of that species of commerce to the prosperity of a navy. An unrestrained intercourse between the States themselves will advance the trade of each by an interchange of their respective productions, not only for the supply of reciprocal wants at home, but for exportation to foreign markets. The veins of commerce in every part will be replenished, and will acquire additional motion and vigor from a free circulation of the commodities of every part. Commercial enterprise will have much greater scope, from the diversity in the productions of different States. When the staple of one fails from a bad harvest or unproductive crop, it can call to its aid the staple of another. The variety, not less than the value, of products for exportation contributes to the activity of foreign commerce. It can be conducted upon much better terms with a large number of materials of a given value than with a small number of materials of the same value; arising from the competitions of trade and from the fluctuations of markets. Particular articles may be in great demand at certain periods, and unsalable at others; but if there be a variety of articles, it can scarcely happen that they should all be at one time in the latter predicament, and on this account the operations of the merchant would be less liable to any considerable obstruction or stagnation. The speculative trader will at once perceive the force of these observations, and will acknowledge that the aggregate balance of the commerce of the United States would bid fair to be much more favorable than that of the thirteen States without union or with partial unions. It may perhaps be replied to this, that whether the States are united or disunited, there would still be an intimate intercourse between them which would answer the same ends; this intercourse would be fettered, interrupted, and narrowed by a multiplicity of causes, which in the course of these papers have been amply detailed. A unity of commercial, as well as political, interests, can only result from a unity of government. There are other points of view in which this subject might be placed, of a striking and animating kind. But they would lead us too far into the regions of futurity, and would involve topics not proper for a newspaper discussion. I shall briefly observe, that our situation invites and our interests prompt us to aim at an ascendant in the system of American affairs. The world may politically, as well as geographically, be divided into four parts, each having a distinct set of interests. Unhappily for the other three, Europe, by her arms and by her negotiations, by force and by fraud, has, in different degrees, extended her dominion over them all. Africa, Asia, and America, have successively felt her domination. The superiority she has long maintained has tempted her to plume herself as the Mistress of the World, and to consider the rest of mankind as created for her benefit. Men admired as profound philosophers have, in direct terms, attributed to her inhabitants a physical superiority, and have gravely asserted that all animals, and with them the human species, degenerate in Americathat even dogs cease to bark after having breathed awhile in our atmosphere.(1) Facts have too long supported these arrogant pretensions of the Europeans. It belongs to us to vindicate the honor of the human race, and to teach that assuming brother, moderation. Union will enable us to do it. Disunion will will add another victim to his triumphs. Let Americans disdain to be the instruments of European greatness! Let the thirteen States, bound together in a strict and indissoluble Union, concur in erecting one great American system, superior to the control of all transatlantic force or influence, and able to dictate the terms of the connection between the old and the new world! PUBLIUS \"Recherches philosophiques sur les Americains.\" FEDERALIST No. 12 The Utility of the Union In Respect to Revenue From the New York Packet. Tuesday, November 27, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE effects of Union upon the commercial prosperity of the States have been sufficiently delineated. Its tendency to promote the interests of revenue will be the subject of our present inquiry. The prosperity of commerce is now perceived and acknowledged by all enlightened statesmen to be the most useful as well as the most productive source of national wealth, and has accordingly become a primary object of their political cares. By multiplying the means of gratification, by promoting the introduction and circulation of the precious metals, those darling objects of human avarice and enterprise, it serves to vivify and invigorate the channels of industry, and to make them flow with greater activity and copiousness. The assiduous merchant, the laborious husbandman, the active mechanic, and the industrious manufacturer,all orders of men, look forward with eager expectation and growing alacrity to this pleasing reward of their toils. The oftenagitated question between agriculture and commerce has, from indubitable experience, received a decision which has silenced the rivalship that once subsisted between them, and has proved, to the satisfaction of their friends, that their interests are intimately blended and interwoven. It has been found in various countries that, in proportion as commerce has flourished, land has risen in value. And how could it have happened otherwise? Could that which procures a freer vent for the products of the earth, which furnishes new incitements to the cultivation of land, which is the most powerful instrument in increasing the quantity of money in a statecould that, in fine, which is the faithful handmaid of labor and industry, in every shape, fail to augment that article, which is the prolific parent of far the greatest part of the objects upon which they are exerted? It is astonishing that so simple a truth should ever have had an adversary; and it is one, among a multitude of proofs, how apt a spirit of illinformed jealousy, or of too great abstraction and refinement, is to lead men astray from the plainest truths of reason and conviction. The ability of a country to pay taxes must always be proportioned, in a great degree, to the quantity of money in circulation, and to the celerity with which it circulates. Commerce, contributing to both these objects, must of necessity render the payment of taxes easier, and facilitate the requisite supplies to the treasury. The hereditary dominions of the Emperor of Germany contain a great extent of fertile, cultivated, and populous territory, a large proportion of which is situated in mild and luxuriant climates. In some parts of this territory are to be found the best gold and silver mines in Europe. And yet, from the want of the fostering influence of commerce, that monarch can boast but slender revenues. He has several times been compelled to owe obligations to the pecuniary succors of other nations for the preservation of his essential interests, and is unable, upon the strength of his own resources, to sustain a long or continued war. But it is not in this aspect of the subject alone that Union will be seen to conduce to the purpose of revenue. There are other points of view, in which its influence will appear more immediate and decisive. It is evident from the state of the country, from the habits of the people, from the experience we have had on the point itself, that it is impracticable to raise any very considerable sums by direct taxation. Tax laws have in vain been multiplied; new methods to enforce the collection have in vain been tried; the public expectation has been uniformly disappointed, and the treasuries of the States have remained empty. The popular system of administration inherent in the nature of popular government, coinciding with the real scarcity of money incident to a languid and mutilated state of trade, has hitherto defeated every experiment for extensive collections, and has at length taught the different legislatures the folly of attempting them. No person acquainted with what happens in other countries will be surprised at this circumstance. In so opulent a nation as that of Britain, where direct taxes from superior wealth must be much more tolerable, and, from the vigor of the government, much more practicable, than in America, far the greatest part of the national revenue is derived from taxes of the indirect kind, from imposts, and from excises. Duties on imported articles form a large branch of this latter description. In America, it is evident that we must a long time depend for the means of revenue chiefly on such duties. In most parts of it, excises must be confined within a narrow compass. The genius of the people will ill brook the inquisitive and peremptory spirit of excise laws. The pockets of the farmers, on the other hand, will reluctantly yield but scanty supplies, in the unwelcome shape of impositions on their houses and lands; and personal property is too precarious and invisible a fund to be laid hold of in any other way than by the imperceptible agency of taxes on consumption. If these remarks have any foundation, that state of things which will best enable us to improve and extend so valuable a resource must be best adapted to our political welfare. And it cannot admit of a serious doubt, that this state of things must rest on the basis of a general Union. As far as this would be conducive to the interests of commerce, so far it must tend to the extension of the revenue to be drawn from that source. As far as it would contribute to rendering regulations for the collection of the duties more simple and efficacious, so far it must serve to answer the purposes of making the same rate of duties more productive, and of putting it into the power of the government to increase the rate without prejudice to trade. The relative situation of these States; the number of rivers with which they are intersected, and of bays that wash their shores; the facility of communication in every direction; the affinity of language and manners; the familiar habits of intercourse;all these are circumstances that would conspire to render an illicit trade between them a matter of little difficulty, and would insure frequent evasions of the commercial regulations of each other. The separate States or confederacies would be necessitated by mutual jealousy to avoid the temptations to that kind of trade by the lowness of their duties. The temper of our governments, for a long time to come, would not permit those rigorous precautions by which the European nations guard the avenues into their respective countries, as well by land as by water; and which, even there, are found insufficient obstacles to the adventurous stratagems of avarice. In France, there is an army of patrols (as they are called) constantly employed to secure their fiscal regulations against the inroads of the dealers in contraband trade. Mr. Neckar computes the number of these patrols at upwards of twenty thousand. This shows the immense difficulty in preventing that species of traffic, where there is an inland communication, and places in a strong light the disadvantages with which the collection of duties in this country would be encumbered, if by disunion the States should be placed in a situation, with respect to each other, resembling that of France with respect to her neighbors. The arbitrary and vexatious powers with which the patrols are necessarily armed, would be intolerable in a free country. If, on the contrary, there be but one government pervading all the States, there will be, as to the principal part of our commerce, but ONE SIDE to guardthe ATLANTIC COAST. Vessels arriving directly from foreign countries, laden with valuable cargoes, would rarely choose to hazard themselves to the complicated and critical perils which would attend attempts to unlade prior to their coming into port. They would have to dread both the dangers of the coast, and of detection, as well after as before their arrival at the places of their final destination. An ordinary degree of vigilance would be competent to the prevention of any material infractions upon the rights of the revenue. A few armed vessels, judiciously stationed at the entrances of our ports, might at a small expense be made useful sentinels of the laws. And the government having the same interest to provide against violations everywhere, the cooperation of its measures in each State would have a powerful tendency to render them effectual. Here also we should preserve by Union, an advantage which nature holds out to us, and which would be relinquished by separation. The United States lie at a great distance from Europe, and at a considerable distance from all other places with which they would have extensive connections of foreign trade. The passage from them to us, in a few hours, or in a single night, as between the coasts of France and Britain, and of other neighboring nations, would be impracticable. This is a prodigious security against a direct contraband with foreign countries; but a circuitous contraband to one State, through the medium of another, would be both easy and safe. The difference between a direct importation from abroad, and an indirect importation through the channel of a neighboring State, in small parcels, according to time and opportunity, with the additional facilities of inland communication, must be palpable to every man of discernment. It is therefore evident, that one national government would be able, at much less expense, to extend the duties on imports, beyond comparison, further than would be practicable to the States separately, or to any partial confederacies. Hitherto, I believe, it may safely be asserted, that these duties have not upon an average exceeded in any State three per cent. In France they are estimated to be about fifteen per cent., and in Britain they exceed this proportion.(1) There seems to be nothing to hinder their being increased in this country to at least treble their present amount. The single article of ardent spirits, under federal regulation, might be made to furnish a considerable revenue. Upon a ratio to the importation into this State, the whole quantity imported into the United States may be estimated at four millions of gallons; which, at a shilling per gallon, would produce two hundred thousand pounds. That article would well bear this rate of duty; and if it should tend to diminish the consumption of it, such an effect would be equally favorable to the agriculture, to the economy, to the morals, and to the health of the society. There is, perhaps, nothing so much a subject of national extravagance as these spirits. What will be the consequence, if we are not able to avail ourselves of the resource in question in its full extent? A nation cannot long exist without revenues. Destitute of this essential support, it must resign its independence, and sink into the degraded condition of a province. This is an extremity to which no government will of choice accede. Revenue, therefore, must be had at all events. In this country, if the principal part be not drawn from commerce, it must fall with oppressive weight upon land. It has been already intimated that excises, in their true signification, are too little in unison with the feelings of the people, to admit of great use being made of that mode of taxation; nor, indeed, in the States where almost the sole employment is agriculture, are the objects proper for excise sufficiently numerous to permit very ample collections in that way. Personal estate (as has been before remarked), from the difficulty in tracing it, cannot be subjected to large contributions, by any other means than by taxes on consumption. In populous cities, it may be enough the subject of conjecture, to occasion the oppression of individuals, without much aggregate benefit to the State; but beyond these circles, it must, in a great measure, escape the eye and the hand of the taxgatherer. As the necessities of the State, nevertheless, must be satisfied in some mode or other, the defect of other resources must throw the principal weight of public burdens on the possessors of land. And as, on the other hand, the wants of the government can never obtain an adequate supply, unless all the sources of revenue are open to its demands, the finances of the community, under such embarrassments, cannot be put into a situation consistent with its respectability or its security. Thus we shall not even have the consolations of a full treasury, to atone for the oppression of that valuable class of the citizens who are employed in the cultivation of the soil. But public and private distress will keep pace with each other in gloomy concert; and unite in deploring the infatuation of those counsels which led to disunion. PUBLIUS 1. If my memory be right they amount to twenty per cent. FEDERALIST No. 13 Advantage of the Union in Respect to Economy in Government For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, November 28, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: As CONNECTED with the subject of revenue, we may with propriety consider that of economy. The money saved from one object may be usefully applied to another, and there will be so much the less to be drawn from the pockets of the people. If the States are united under one government, there will be but one national civil list to support; if they are divided into several confederacies, there will be as many different national civil lists to be provided forand each of them, as to the principal departments, coextensive with that which would be necessary for a government of the whole. The entire separation of the States into thirteen unconnected sovereignties is a project too extravagant and too replete with danger to have many advocates. The ideas of men who speculate upon the dismemberment of the empire seem generally turned toward three confederaciesone consisting of the four Northern, another of the four Middle, and a third of the five Southern States. There is little probability that there would be a greater number. According to this distribution, each confederacy would comprise an extent of territory larger than that of the kingdom of Great Britain. No wellinformed man will suppose that the affairs of such a confederacy can be properly regulated by a government less comprehensive in its organs or institutions than that which has been proposed by the convention. When the dimensions of a State attain to a certain magnitude, it requires the same energy of government and the same forms of administration which are requisite in one of much greater extent. This idea admits not of precise demonstration, because there is no rule by which we can measure the momentum of civil power necessary to the government of any given number of individuals; but when we consider that the island of Britain, nearly commensurate with each of the supposed confederacies, contains about eight millions of people, and when we reflect upon the degree of authority required to direct the passions of so large a society to the public good, we shall see no reason to doubt that the like portion of power would be sufficient to perform the same task in a society far more numerous. Civil power, properly organized and exerted, is capable of diffusing its force to a very great extent; and can, in a manner, reproduce itself in every part of a great empire by a judicious arrangement of subordinate institutions. The supposition that each confederacy into which the States would be likely to be divided would require a government not less comprehensive than the one proposed, will be strengthened by another supposition, more probable than that which presents us with three confederacies as the alternative to a general Union. If we attend carefully to geographical and commercial considerations, in conjunction with the habits and prejudices of the different States, we shall be led to conclude that in case of disunion they will most naturally league themselves under two governments. The four Eastern States, from all the causes that form the links of national sympathy and connection, may with certainty be expected to unite. New York, situated as she is, would never be unwise enough to oppose a feeble and unsupported flank to the weight of that confederacy. There are other obvious reasons that would facilitate her accession to it. New Jersey is too small a State to think of being a frontier, in opposition to this still more powerful combination; nor do there appear to be any obstacles to her admission into it. Even Pennsylvania would have strong inducements to join the Northern league. An active foreign commerce, on the basis of her own navigation, is her true policy, and coincides with the opinions and dispositions of her citizens. The more Southern States, from various circumstances, may not think themselves much interested in the encouragement of navigation. They may prefer a system which would give unlimited scope to all nations to be the carriers as well as the purchasers of their commodities. Pennsylvania may not choose to confound her interests in a connection so adverse to her policy. As she must at all events be a frontier, she may deem it most consistent with her safety to have her exposed side turned towards the weaker power of the Southern, rather than towards the stronger power of the Northern, Confederacy. This would give her the fairest chance to avoid being the Flanders of America. Whatever may be the determination of Pennsylvania, if the Northern Confederacy includes New Jersey, there is no likelihood of more than one confederacy to the south of that State. Nothing can be more evident than that the thirteen States will be able to support a national government better than one half, or one third, or any number less than the whole. This reflection must have great weight in obviating that objection to the proposed plan, which is founded on the principle of expense; an objection, however, which, when we come to take a nearer view of it, will appear in every light to stand on mistaken ground. If, in addition to the consideration of a plurality of civil lists, we take into view the number of persons who must necessarily be employed to guard the inland communication between the different confederacies against illicit trade, and who in time will infallibly spring up out of the necessities of revenue; and if we also take into view the military establishments which it has been shown would unavoidably result from the jealousies and conflicts of the several nations into which the States would be divided, we shall clearly discover that a separation would be not less injurious to the economy, than to the tranquillity, commerce, revenue, and liberty of every part. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 14 Objections to the Proposed Constitution From Extent of Territory Answered From the New York Packet. Friday, November 30, 1787. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: WE HAVE seen the necessity of the Union, as our bulwark against foreign danger, as the conservator of peace among ourselves, as the guardian of our commerce and other common interests, as the only substitute for those military establishments which have subverted the liberties of the Old World, and as the proper antidote for the diseases of faction, which have proved fatal to other popular governments, and of which alarming symptoms have been betrayed by our own. All that remains, within this branch of our inquiries, is to take notice of an objection that may be drawn from the great extent of country which the Union embraces. A few observations on this subject will be the more proper, as it is perceived that the adversaries of the new Constitution are availing themselves of the prevailing prejudice with regard to the practicable sphere of republican administration, in order to supply, by imaginary difficulties, the want of those solid objections which they endeavor in vain to find. The error which limits republican government to a narrow district has been unfolded and refuted in preceding papers. I remark here only that it seems to owe its rise and prevalence chiefly to the confounding of a republic with a democracy, applying to the former reasonings drawn from the nature of the latter. The true distinction between these forms was also adverted to on a former occasion. It is, that in a democracy, the people meet and exercise the government in person; in a republic, they assemble and administer it by their representatives and agents. A democracy, consequently, will be confined to a small spot. A republic may be extended over a large region. To this accidental source of the error may be added the artifice of some celebrated authors, whose writings have had a great share in forming the modern standard of political opinions. Being subjects either of an absolute or limited monarchy, they have endeavored to heighten the advantages, or palliate the evils of those forms, by placing in comparison the vices and defects of the republican, and by citing as specimens of the latter the turbulent democracies of ancient Greece and modern Italy. Under the confusion of names, it has been an easy task to transfer to a republic observations applicable to a democracy only; and among others, the observation that it can never be established but among a small number of people, living within a small compass of territory. Such a fallacy may have been the less perceived, as most of the popular governments of antiquity were of the democratic species; and even in modern Europe, to which we owe the great principle of representation, no example is seen of a government wholly popular, and founded, at the same time, wholly on that principle. If Europe has the merit of discovering this great mechanical power in government, by the simple agency of which the will of the largest political body may be concentred, and its force directed to any object which the public good requires, America can claim the merit of making the discovery the basis of unmixed and extensive republics. It is only to be lamented that any of her citizens should wish to deprive her of the additional merit of displaying its full efficacy in the establishment of the comprehensive system now under her consideration. As the natural limit of a democracy is that distance from the central point which will just permit the most remote citizens to assemble as often as their public functions demand, and will include no greater number than can join in those functions; so the natural limit of a republic is that distance from the centre which will barely allow the representatives to meet as often as may be necessary for the administration of public affairs. Can it be said that the limits of the United States exceed this distance? It will not be said by those who recollect that the Atlantic coast is the longest side of the Union, that during the term of thirteen years, the representatives of the States have been almost continually assembled, and that the members from the most distant States are not chargeable with greater intermissions of attendance than those from the States in the neighborhood of Congress. That we may form a juster estimate with regard to this interesting subject, let us resort to the actual dimensions of the Union. The limits, as fixed by the treaty of peace, are: on the east the Atlantic, on the south the latitude of thirtyone degrees, on the west the Mississippi, and on the north an irregular line running in some instances beyond the fortyfifth degree, in others falling as low as the fortysecond. The southern shore of Lake Erie lies below that latitude. Computing the distance between the thirtyfirst and fortyfifth degrees, it amounts to nine hundred and seventythree common miles; computing it from thirtyone to fortytwo degrees, to seven hundred and sixtyfour miles and a half. Taking the mean for the distance, the amount will be eight hundred and sixtyeight miles and threefourths. The mean distance from the Atlantic to the Mississippi does not probably exceed seven hundred and fifty miles. On a comparison of this extent with that of several countries in Europe, the practicability of rendering our system commensurate to it appears to be demonstrable. It is not a great deal larger than Germany, where a diet representing the whole empire is continually assembled; or than Poland before the late dismemberment, where another national diet was the depositary of the supreme power. Passing by France and Spain, we find that in Great Britain, inferior as it may be in size, the representatives of the northern extremity of the island have as far to travel to the national council as will be required of those of the most remote parts of the Union. Favorable as this view of the subject may be, some observations remain which will place it in a light still more satisfactory. In the first place it is to be remembered that the general government is not to be charged with the whole power of making and administering laws. Its jurisdiction is limited to certain enumerated objects, which concern all the members of the republic, but which are not to be attained by the separate provisions of any. The subordinate governments, which can extend their care to all those other subjects which can be separately provided for, will retain their due authority and activity. Were it proposed by the plan of the convention to abolish the governments of the particular States, its adversaries would have some ground for their objection; though it would not be difficult to show that if they were abolished the general government would be compelled, by the principle of selfpreservation, to reinstate them in their proper jurisdiction. A second observation to be made is that the immediate object of the federal Constitution is to secure the union of the thirteen primitive States, which we know to be practicable; and to add to them such other States as may arise in their own bosoms, or in their neighborhoods, which we cannot doubt to be equally practicable. The arrangements that may be necessary for those angles and fractions of our territory which lie on our northwestern frontier, must be left to those whom further discoveries and experience will render more equal to the task. Let it be remarked, in the third place, that the intercourse throughout the Union will be facilitated by new improvements. Roads will everywhere be shortened, and kept in better order; accommodations for travelers will be multiplied and meliorated; an interior navigation on our eastern side will be opened throughout, or nearly throughout, the whole extent of the thirteen States. The communication between the Western and Atlantic districts, and between different parts of each, will be rendered more and more easy by those numerous canals with which the beneficence of nature has intersected our country, and which art finds it so little difficult to connect and complete. A fourth and still more important consideration is, that as almost every State will, on one side or other, be a frontier, and will thus find, in regard to its safety, an inducement to make some sacrifices for the sake of the general protection; so the States which lie at the greatest distance from the heart of the Union, and which, of course, may partake least of the ordinary circulation of its benefits, will be at the same time immediately contiguous to foreign nations, and will consequently stand, on particular occasions, in greatest need of its strength and resources. It may be inconvenient for Georgia, or the States forming our western or northeastern borders, to send their representatives to the seat of government; but they would find it more so to struggle alone against an invading enemy, or even to support alone the whole expense of those precautions which may be dictated by the neighborhood of continual danger. If they should derive less benefit, therefore, from the Union in some respects than the less distant States, they will derive greater benefit from it in other respects, and thus the proper equilibrium will be maintained throughout. I submit to you, my fellowcitizens, these considerations, in full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your decisions will allow them their due weight and effect; and that you will never suffer difficulties, however formidable in appearance, or however fashionable the error on which they may be founded, to drive you into the gloomy and perilous scene into which the advocates for disunion would conduct you. Hearken not to the unnatural voice which tells you that the people of America, knit together as they are by so many cords of affection, can no longer live together as members of the same family; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; can no longer be fellow citizens of one great, respectable, and flourishing empire. Hearken not to the voice which petulantly tells you that the form of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is impossible to accomplish. No, my countrymen, shut your ears against this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which it conveys; the kindred blood which flows in the veins of American citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in defense of their sacred rights, consecrate their Union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects, the most rash of all attempts, is that of rendering us in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties and promote our happiness. But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected, merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America, that, whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience? To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the possession, and the world for the example, of the numerous innovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of private rights and public happiness. Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the Revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at this moment have been numbered among the melancholy victims of misguided councils, must at best have been laboring under the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America, happily, we trust, for the whole human race, they pursued a new and more noble course. They accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in the annals of human society. They reared the fabrics of governments which have no model on the face of the globe. They formed the design of a great Confederacy, which it is incumbent on their successors to improve and perpetuate. If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them. If they erred most in the structure of the Union, this was the work most difficult to be executed; this is the work which has been new modelled by the act of your convention, and it is that act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 15 The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union For the Independent Journal. Saturday, December 1, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York. IN THE course of the preceding papers, I have endeavored, my fellow citizens, to place before you, in a clear and convincing light, the importance of Union to your political safety and happiness. I have unfolded to you a complication of dangers to which you would be exposed, should you permit that sacred knot which binds the people of America together be severed or dissolved by ambition or by avarice, by jealousy or by misrepresentation. In the sequel of the inquiry through which I propose to accompany you, the truths intended to be inculcated will receive further confirmation from facts and arguments hitherto unnoticed. If the road over which you will still have to pass should in some places appear to you tedious or irksome, you will recollect that you are in quest of information on a subject the most momentous which can engage the attention of a free people, that the field through which you have to travel is in itself spacious, and that the difficulties of the journey have been unnecessarily increased by the mazes with which sophistry has beset the way. It will be my aim to remove the obstacles from your progress in as compendious a manner as it can be done, without sacrificing utility to despatch. In pursuance of the plan which I have laid down for the discussion of the subject, the point next in order to be examined is the \"insufficiency of the present Confederation to the preservation of the Union.\" It may perhaps be asked what need there is of reasoning or proof to illustrate a position which is not either controverted or doubted, to which the understandings and feelings of all classes of men assent, and which in substance is admitted by the opponents as well as by the friends of the new Constitution. It must in truth be acknowledged that, however these may differ in other respects, they in general appear to harmonize in this sentiment, at least, that there are material imperfections in our national system, and that something is necessary to be done to rescue us from impending anarchy. The facts that support this opinion are no longer objects of speculation. They have forced themselves upon the sensibility of the people at large, and have at length extorted from those, whose mistaken policy has had the principal share in precipitating the extremity at which we are arrived, a reluctant confession of the reality of those defects in the scheme of our federal government, which have been long pointed out and regretted by the intelligent friends of the Union. We may indeed with propriety be said to have reached almost the last stage of national humiliation. There is scarcely anything that can wound the pride or degrade the character of an independent nation which we do not experience. Are there engagements to the performance of which we are held by every tie respectable among men? These are the subjects of constant and unblushing violation. Do we owe debts to foreigners and to our own citizens contracted in a time of imminent peril for the preservation of our political existence? These remain without any proper or satisfactory provision for their discharge. Have we valuable territories and important posts in the possession of a foreign power which, by express stipulations, ought long since to have been surrendered? These are still retained, to the prejudice of our interests, not less than of our rights. Are we in a condition to resent or to repel the aggression? We have neither troops, nor treasury, nor government.(1) Are we even in a condition to remonstrate with dignity? The just imputations on our own faith, in respect to the same treaty, ought first to be removed. Are we entitled by nature and compact to a free participation in the navigation of the Mississippi? Spain excludes us from it. Is public credit an indispensable resource in time of public danger? We seem to have abandoned its cause as desperate and irretrievable. Is commerce of importance to national wealth? Ours is at the lowest point of declension. Is respectability in the eyes of foreign powers a safeguard against foreign encroachments? The imbecility of our government even forbids them to treat with us. Our ambassadors abroad are the mere pageants of mimic sovereignty. Is a violent and unnatural decrease in the value of land a symptom of national distress? The price of improved land in most parts of the country is much lower than can be accounted for by the quantity of waste land at market, and can only be fully explained by that want of private and public confidence, which are so alarmingly prevalent among all ranks, and which have a direct tendency to depreciate property of every kind. Is private credit the friend and patron of industry? That most useful kind which relates to borrowing and lending is reduced within the narrowest limits, and this still more from an opinion of insecurity than from the scarcity of money. To shorten an enumeration of particulars which can afford neither pleasure nor instruction, it may in general be demanded, what indication is there of national disorder, poverty, and insignificance that could befall a community so peculiarly blessed with natural advantages as we are, which does not form a part of the dark catalogue of our public misfortunes? This is the melancholy situation to which we have been brought by those very maxims and councils which would now deter us from adopting the proposed Constitution; and which, not content with having conducted us to the brink of a precipice, seem resolved to plunge us into the abyss that awaits us below. Here, my countrymen, impelled by every motive that ought to influence an enlightened people, let us make a firm stand for our safety, our tranquillity, our dignity, our reputation. Let us at last break the fatal charm which has too long seduced us from the paths of felicity and prosperity. It is true, as has been before observed that facts, too stubborn to be resisted, have produced a species of general assent to the abstract proposition that there exist material defects in our national system; but the usefulness of the concession, on the part of the old adversaries of federal measures, is destroyed by a strenuous opposition to a remedy, upon the only principles that can give it a chance of success. While they admit that the government of the United States is destitute of energy, they contend against conferring upon it those powers which are requisite to supply that energy. They seem still to aim at things repugnant and irreconcilable; at an augmentation of federal authority, without a diminution of State authority; at sovereignty in the Union, and complete independence in the members. They still, in fine, seem to cherish with blind devotion the political monster of an imperium in imperio. This renders a full display of the principal defects of the Confederation necessary, in order to show that the evils we experience do not proceed from minute or partial imperfections, but from fundamental errors in the structure of the building, which cannot be amended otherwise than by an alteration in the first principles and main pillars of the fabric. The great and radical vice in the construction of the existing Confederation is in the principle of LEGISLATION for STATES or GOVERNMENTS, in their CORPORATE or COLLECTIVE CAPACITIES, and as contradistinguished from the INDIVIDUALS of which they consist. Though this principle does not run through all the powers delegated to the Union, yet it pervades and governs those on which the efficacy of the rest depends. Except as to the rule of appointment, the United States has an indefinite discretion to make requisitions for men and money; but they have no authority to raise either, by regulations extending to the individual citizens of America. The consequence of this is, that though in theory their resolutions concerning those objects are laws, constitutionally binding on the members of the Union, yet in practice they are mere recommendations which the States observe or disregard at their option. It is a singular instance of the capriciousness of the human mind, that after all the admonitions we have had from experience on this head, there should still be found men who object to the new Constitution, for deviating from a principle which has been found the bane of the old, and which is in itself evidently incompatible with the idea of GOVERNMENT; a principle, in short, which, if it is to be executed at all, must substitute the violent and sanguinary agency of the sword to the mild influence of the magistracy. There is nothing absurd or impracticable in the idea of a league or alliance between independent nations for certain defined purposes precisely stated in a treaty regulating all the details of time, place, circumstance, and quantity; leaving nothing to future discretion; and depending for its execution on the good faith of the parties. Compacts of this kind exist among all civilized nations, subject to the usual vicissitudes of peace and war, of observance and nonobservance, as the interests or passions of the contracting powers dictate. In the early part of the present century there was an epidemical rage in Europe for this species of compacts, from which the politicians of the times fondly hoped for benefits which were never realized. With a view to establishing the equilibrium of power and the peace of that part of the world, all the resources of negotiation were exhausted, and triple and quadruple alliances were formed; but they were scarcely formed before they were broken, giving an instructive but afflicting lesson to mankind, how little dependence is to be placed on treaties which have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of any immediate interest or passion. If the particular States in this country are disposed to stand in a similar relation to each other, and to drop the project of a general DISCRETIONARY SUPERINTENDENCE, the scheme would indeed be pernicious, and would entail upon us all the mischiefs which have been enumerated under the first head; but it would have the merit of being, at least, consistent and practicable Abandoning all views towards a confederate government, this would bring us to a simple alliance offensive and defensive; and would place us in a situation to be alternate friends and enemies of each other, as our mutual jealousies and rivalships, nourished by the intrigues of foreign nations, should prescribe to us. But if we are unwilling to be placed in this perilous situation; if we still will adhere to the design of a national government, or, which is the same thing, of a superintending power, under the direction of a common council, we must resolve to incorporate into our plan those ingredients which may be considered as forming the characteristic difference between a league and a government; we must extend the authority of the Union to the persons of the citizens,the only proper objects of government. Government implies the power of making laws. It is essential to the idea of a law, that it be attended with a sanction; or, in other words, a penalty or punishment for disobedience. If there be no penalty annexed to disobedience, the resolutions or commands which pretend to be laws will, in fact, amount to nothing more than advice or recommendation. This penalty, whatever it may be, can only be inflicted in two ways: by the agency of the courts and ministers of justice, or by military force; by the COERCION of the magistracy, or by the COERCION of arms. The first kind can evidently apply only to men; the last kind must of necessity, be employed against bodies politic, or communities, or States. It is evident that there is no process of a court by which the observance of the laws can, in the last resort, be enforced. Sentences may be denounced against them for violations of their duty; but these sentences can only be carried into execution by the sword. In an association where the general authority is confined to the collective bodies of the communities, that compose it, every breach of the laws must involve a state of war; and military execution must become the only instrument of civil obedience. Such a state of things can certainly not deserve the name of government, nor would any prudent man choose to commit his happiness to it. There was a time when we were told that breaches, by the States, of the regulations of the federal authority were not to be expected; that a sense of common interest would preside over the conduct of the respective members, and would beget a full compliance with all the constitutional requisitions of the Union. This language, at the present day, would appear as wild as a great part of what we now hear from the same quarter will be thought, when we shall have received further lessons from that best oracle of wisdom, experience. It at all times betrayed an ignorance of the true springs by which human conduct is actuated, and belied the original inducements to the establishment of civil power. Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint. Has it been found that bodies of men act with more rectitude or greater disinterestedness than individuals? The contrary of this has been inferred by all accurate observers of the conduct of mankind; and the inference is founded upon obvious reasons. Regard to reputation has a less active influence, when the infamy of a bad action is to be divided among a number than when it is to fall singly upon one. A spirit of faction, which is apt to mingle its poison in the deliberations of all bodies of men, will often hurry the persons of whom they are composed into improprieties and excesses, for which they would blush in a private capacity. In addition to all this, there is, in the nature of sovereign power, an impatience of control, that disposes those who are invested with the exercise of it, to look with an evil eye upon all external attempts to restrain or direct its operations. From this spirit it happens, that in every political association which is formed upon the principle of uniting in a common interest a number of lesser sovereignties, there will be found a kind of eccentric tendency in the subordinate or inferior orbs, by the operation of which there will be a perpetual effort in each to fly off from the common centre. This tendency is not difficult to be accounted for. It has its origin in the love of power. Power controlled or abridged is almost always the rival and enemy of that power by which it is controlled or abridged. This simple proposition will teach us how little reason there is to expect, that the persons intrusted with the administration of the affairs of the particular members of a confederacy will at all times be ready, with perfect goodhumor, and an unbiased regard to the public weal, to execute the resolutions or decrees of the general authority. The reverse of this results from the constitution of human nature. If, therefore, the measures of the Confederacy cannot be executed without the intervention of the particular administrations, there will be little prospect of their being executed at all. The rulers of the respective members, whether they have a constitutional right to do it or not, will undertake to judge of the propriety of the measures themselves. They will consider the conformity of the thing proposed or required to their immediate interests or aims; the momentary conveniences or inconveniences that would attend its adoption. All this will be done; and in a spirit of interested and suspicious scrutiny, without that knowledge of national circumstances and reasons of state, which is essential to a right judgment, and with that strong predilection in favor of local objects, which can hardly fail to mislead the decision. The same process must be repeated in every member of which the body is constituted; and the execution of the plans, framed by the councils of the whole, will always fluctuate on the discretion of the illinformed and prejudiced opinion of every part. Those who have been conversant in the proceedings of popular assemblies; who have seen how difficult it often is, where there is no exterior pressure of circumstances, to bring them to harmonious resolutions on important points, will readily conceive how impossible it must be to induce a number of such assemblies, deliberating at a distance from each other, at different times, and under different impressions, long to cooperate in the same views and pursuits. In our case, the concurrence of thirteen distinct sovereign wills is requisite, under the Confederation, to the complete execution of every important measure that proceeds from the Union. It has happened as was to have been foreseen. The measures of the Union have not been executed; the delinquencies of the States have, step by step, matured themselves to an extreme, which has, at length, arrested all the wheels of the national government, and brought them to an awful stand. Congress at this time scarcely possess the means of keeping up the forms of administration, till the States can have time to agree upon a more substantial substitute for the present shadow of a federal government. Things did not come to this desperate extremity at once. The causes which have been specified produced at first only unequal and disproportionate degrees of compliance with the requisitions of the Union. The greater deficiencies of some States furnished the pretext of example and the temptation of interest to the complying, or to the least delinquent States. Why should we do more in proportion than those who are embarked with us in the same political voyage? Why should we consent to bear more than our proper share of the common burden? These were suggestions which human selfishness could not withstand, and which even speculative men, who looked forward to remote consequences, could not, without hesitation, combat. Each State, yielding to the persuasive voice of immediate interest or convenience, has successively withdrawn its support, till the frail and tottering edifice seems ready to fall upon our heads, and to crush us beneath its ruins. PUBLIUS 1. \"I mean for the Union.\" FEDERALIST No. 16 The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 4, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE tendency of the principle of legislation for States, or communities, in their political capacities, as it has been exemplified by the experiment we have made of it, is equally attested by the events which have befallen all other governments of the confederate kind, of which we have any account, in exact proportion to its prevalence in those systems. The confirmations of this fact will be worthy of a distinct and particular examination. I shall content myself with barely observing here, that of all the confederacies of antiquity, which history has handed down to us, the Lycian and Achaean leagues, as far as there remain vestiges of them, appear to have been most free from the fetters of that mistaken principle, and were accordingly those which have best deserved, and have most liberally received, the applauding suffrages of political writers. This exceptionable principle may, as truly as emphatically, be styled the parent of anarchy: It has been seen that delinquencies in the members of the Union are its natural and necessary offspring; and that whenever they happen, the only constitutional remedy is force, and the immediate effect of the use of it, civil war. It remains to inquire how far so odious an engine of government, in its application to us, would even be capable of answering its end. If there should not be a large army constantly at the disposal of the national government it would either not be able to employ force at all, or, when this could be done, it would amount to a war between parts of the Confederacy concerning the infractions of a league, in which the strongest combination would be most likely to prevail, whether it consisted of those who supported or of those who resisted the general authority. It would rarely happen that the delinquency to be redressed would be confined to a single member, and if there were more than one who had neglected their duty, similarity of situation would induce them to unite for common defense. Independent of this motive of sympathy, if a large and influential State should happen to be the aggressing member, it would commonly have weight enough with its neighbors to win over some of them as associates to its cause. Specious arguments of danger to the common liberty could easily be contrived; plausible excuses for the deficiencies of the party could, without difficulty, be invented to alarm the apprehensions, inflame the passions, and conciliate the goodwill, even of those States which were not chargeable with any violation or omission of duty. This would be the more likely to take place, as the delinquencies of the larger members might be expected sometimes to proceed from an ambitious premeditation in their rulers, with a view to getting rid of all external control upon their designs of personal aggrandizement; the better to effect which it is presumable they would tamper beforehand with leading individuals in the adjacent States. If associates could not be found at home, recourse would be had to the aid of foreign powers, who would seldom be disinclined to encouraging the dissensions of a Confederacy, from the firm union of which they had so much to fear. When the sword is once drawn, the passions of men observe no bounds of moderation. The suggestions of wounded pride, the instigations of irritated resentment, would be apt to carry the States against which the arms of the Union were exerted, to any extremes necessary to avenge the affront or to avoid the disgrace of submission. The first war of this kind would probably terminate in a dissolution of the Union. This may be considered as the violent death of the Confederacy. Its more natural death is what we now seem to be on the point of experiencing, if the federal system be not speedily renovated in a more substantial form. It is not probable, considering the genius of this country, that the complying States would often be inclined to support the authority of the Union by engaging in a war against the noncomplying States. They would always be more ready to pursue the milder course of putting themselves upon an equal footing with the delinquent members by an imitation of their example. And the guilt of all would thus become the security of all. Our past experience has exhibited the operation of this spirit in its full light. There would, in fact, be an insuperable difficulty in ascertaining when force could with propriety be employed. In the article of pecuniary contribution, which would be the most usual source of delinquency, it would often be impossible to decide whether it had proceeded from disinclination or inability. The pretense of the latter would always be at hand. And the case must be very flagrant in which its fallacy could be detected with sufficient certainty to justify the harsh expedient of compulsion. It is easy to see that this problem alone, as often as it should occur, would open a wide field for the exercise of factious views, of partiality, and of oppression, in the majority that happened to prevail in the national council. It seems to require no pains to prove that the States ought not to prefer a national Constitution which could only be kept in motion by the instrumentality of a large army continually on foot to execute the ordinary requisitions or decrees of the government. And yet this is the plain alternative involved by those who wish to deny it the power of extending its operations to individuals. Such a scheme, if practicable at all, would instantly degenerate into a military despotism; but it will be found in every light impracticable. The resources of the Union would not be equal to the maintenance of an army considerable enough to confine the larger States within the limits of their duty; nor would the means ever be furnished of forming such an army in the first instance. Whoever considers the populousness and strength of several of these States singly at the present juncture, and looks forward to what they will become, even at the distance of half a century, will at once dismiss as idle and visionary any scheme which aims at regulating their movements by laws to operate upon them in their collective capacities, and to be executed by a coercion applicable to them in the same capacities. A project of this kind is little less romantic than the monstertaming spirit which is attributed to the fabulous heroes and demigods of antiquity. Even in those confederacies which have been composed of members smaller than many of our counties, the principle of legislation for sovereign States, supported by military coercion, has never been found effectual. It has rarely been attempted to be employed, but against the weaker members; and in most instances attempts to coerce the refractory and disobedient have been the signals of bloody wars, in which one half of the confederacy has displayed its banners against the other half. The result of these observations to an intelligent mind must be clearly this, that if it be possible at any rate to construct a federal government capable of regulating the common concerns and preserving the general tranquillity, it must be founded, as to the objects committed to its care, upon the reverse of the principle contended for by the opponents of the proposed Constitution. It must carry its agency to the persons of the citizens. It must stand in need of no intermediate legislations; but must itself be empowered to employ the arm of the ordinary magistrate to execute its own resolutions. The majesty of the national authority must be manifested through the medium of the courts of justice. The government of the Union, like that of each State, must be able to address itself immediately to the hopes and fears of individuals; and to attract to its support those passions which have the strongest influence upon the human heart. It must, in short, possess all the means, and have aright to resort to all the methods, of executing the powers with which it is intrusted, that are possessed and exercised by the government of the particular States. To this reasoning it may perhaps be objected, that if any State should be disaffected to the authority of the Union, it could at any time obstruct the execution of its laws, and bring the matter to the same issue of force, with the necessity of which the opposite scheme is reproached. The plausibility of this objection will vanish the moment we advert to the essential difference between a mere NONCOMPLIANCE and a DIRECT and ACTIVE RESISTANCE. If the interposition of the State legislatures be necessary to give effect to a measure of the Union, they have only NOT TO ACT, or TO ACT EVASIVELY, and the measure is defeated. This neglect of duty may be disguised under affected but unsubstantial provisions, so as not to appear, and of course not to excite any alarm in the people for the safety of the Constitution. The State leaders may even make a merit of their surreptitious invasions of it on the ground of some temporary convenience, exemption, or advantage. But if the execution of the laws of the national government should not require the intervention of the State legislatures, if they were to pass into immediate operation upon the citizens themselves, the particular governments could not interrupt their progress without an open and violent exertion of an unconstitutional power. No omissions nor evasions would answer the end. They would be obliged to act, and in such a manner as would leave no doubt that they had encroached on the national rights. An experiment of this nature would always be hazardous in the face of a constitution in any degree competent to its own defense, and of a people enlightened enough to distinguish between a legal exercise and an illegal usurpation of authority. The success of it would require not merely a factious majority in the legislature, but the concurrence of the courts of justice and of the body of the people. If the judges were not embarked in a conspiracy with the legislature, they would pronounce the resolutions of such a majority to be contrary to the supreme law of the land, unconstitutional, and void. If the people were not tainted with the spirit of their State representatives, they, as the natural guardians of the Constitution, would throw their weight into the national scale and give it a decided preponderancy in the contest. Attempts of this kind would not often be made with levity or rashness, because they could seldom be made without danger to the authors, unless in cases of a tyrannical exercise of the federal authority. If opposition to the national government should arise from the disorderly conduct of refractory or seditious individuals, it could be overcome by the same means which are daily employed against the same evil under the State governments. The magistracy, being equally the ministers of the law of the land, from whatever source it might emanate, would doubtless be as ready to guard the national as the local regulations from the inroads of private licentiousness. As to those partial commotions and insurrections, which sometimes disquiet society, from the intrigues of an inconsiderable faction, or from sudden or occasional illhumors that do not infect the great body of the community the general government could command more extensive resources for the suppression of disturbances of that kind than would be in the power of any single member. And as to those mortal feuds which, in certain conjunctures, spread a conflagration through a whole nation, or through a very large proportion of it, proceeding either from weighty causes of discontent given by the government or from the contagion of some violent popular paroxysm, they do not fall within any ordinary rules of calculation. When they happen, they commonly amount to revolutions and dismemberments of empire. No form of government can always either avoid or control them. It is in vain to hope to guard against events too mighty for human foresight or precaution, and it would be idle to object to a government because it could not perform impossibilities. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 17 The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, December 5, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: AN OBJECTION, of a nature different from that which has been stated and answered, in my last address, may perhaps be likewise urged against the principle of legislation for the individual citizens of America. It may be said that it would tend to render the government of the Union too powerful, and to enable it to absorb those residuary authorities, which it might be judged proper to leave with the States for local purposes. Allowing the utmost latitude to the love of power which any reasonable man can require, I confess I am at a loss to discover what temptation the persons intrusted with the administration of the general government could ever feel to divest the States of the authorities of that description. The regulation of the mere domestic police of a State appears to me to hold out slender allurements to ambition. Commerce, finance, negotiation, and war seem to comprehend all the objects which have charms for minds governed by that passion; and all the powers necessary to those objects ought, in the first instance, to be lodged in the national depository. The administration of private justice between the citizens of the same State, the supervision of agriculture and of other concerns of a similar nature, all those things, in short, which are proper to be provided for by local legislation, can never be desirable cares of a general jurisdiction. It is therefore improbable that there should exist a disposition in the federal councils to usurp the powers with which they are connected; because the attempt to exercise those powers would be as troublesome as it would be nugatory; and the possession of them, for that reason, would contribute nothing to the dignity, to the importance, or to the splendor of the national government. But let it be admitted, for argument's sake, that mere wantonness and lust of domination would be sufficient to beget that disposition; still it may be safely affirmed, that the sense of the constituent body of the national representatives, or, in other words, the people of the several States, would control the indulgence of so extravagant an appetite. It will always be far more easy for the State governments to encroach upon the national authorities than for the national government to encroach upon the State authorities. The proof of this proposition turns upon the greater degree of influence which the State governments if they administer their affairs with uprightness and prudence, will generally possess over the people; a circumstance which at the same time teaches us that there is an inherent and intrinsic weakness in all federal constitutions; and that too much pains cannot be taken in their organization, to give them all the force which is compatible with the principles of liberty. The superiority of influence in favor of the particular governments would result partly from the diffusive construction of the national government, but chiefly from the nature of the objects to which the attention of the State administrations would be directed. It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the object. Upon the same principle that a man is more attached to his family than to his neighborhood, to his neighborhood than to the community at large, the people of each State would be apt to feel a stronger bias towards their local governments than towards the government of the Union; unless the force of that principle should be destroyed by a much better administration of the latter. This strong propensity of the human heart would find powerful auxiliaries in the objects of State regulation. The variety of more minute interests, which will necessarily fall under the superintendence of the local administrations, and which will form so many rivulets of influence, running through every part of the society, cannot be particularized, without involving a detail too tedious and uninteresting to compensate for the instruction it might afford. There is one transcendant advantage belonging to the province of the State governments, which alone suffices to place the matter in a clear and satisfactory light,I mean the ordinary administration of criminal and civil justice. This, of all others, is the most powerful, most universal, and most attractive source of popular obedience and attachment. It is that which, being the immediate and visible guardian of life and property, having its benefits and its terrors in constant activity before the public eye, regulating all those personal interests and familiar concerns to which the sensibility of individuals is more immediately awake, contributes, more than any other circumstance, to impressing upon the minds of the people, affection, esteem, and reverence towards the government. This great cement of society, which will diffuse itself almost wholly through the channels of the particular governments, independent of all other causes of influence, would insure them so decided an empire over their respective citizens as to render them at all times a complete counterpoise, and, not unfrequently, dangerous rivals to the power of the Union. The operations of the national government, on the other hand, falling less immediately under the observation of the mass of the citizens, the benefits derived from it will chiefly be perceived and attended to by speculative men. Relating to more general interests, they will be less apt to come home to the feelings of the people; and, in proportion, less likely to inspire an habitual sense of obligation, and an active sentiment of attachment. The reasoning on this head has been abundantly exemplified by the experience of all federal constitutions with which we are acquainted, and of all others which have borne the least analogy to them. Though the ancient feudal systems were not, strictly speaking, confederacies, yet they partook of the nature of that species of association. There was a common head, chieftain, or sovereign, whose authority extended over the whole nation; and a number of subordinate vassals, or feudatories, who had large portions of land allotted to them, and numerous trains of INFERIOR vassals or retainers, who occupied and cultivated that land upon the tenure of fealty or obedience, to the persons of whom they held it. Each principal vassal was a kind of sovereign, within his particular demesnes. The consequences of this situation were a continual opposition to authority of the sovereign, and frequent wars between the great barons or chief feudatories themselves. The power of the head of the nation was commonly too weak, either to preserve the public peace, or to protect the people against the oppressions of their immediate lords. This period of European affairs is emphatically styled by historians, the times of feudal anarchy. When the sovereign happened to be a man of vigorous and warlike temper and of superior abilities, he would acquire a personal weight and influence, which answered, for the time, the purpose of a more regular authority. But in general, the power of the barons triumphed over that of the prince; and in many instances his dominion was entirely thrown off, and the great fiefs were erected into independent principalities or States. In those instances in which the monarch finally prevailed over his vassals, his success was chiefly owing to the tyranny of those vassals over their dependents. The barons, or nobles, equally the enemies of the sovereign and the oppressors of the common people, were dreaded and detested by both; till mutual danger and mutual interest effected a union between them fatal to the power of the aristocracy. Had the nobles, by a conduct of clemency and justice, preserved the fidelity and devotion of their retainers and followers, the contests between them and the prince must almost always have ended in their favor, and in the abridgment or subversion of the royal authority. This is not an assertion founded merely in speculation or conjecture. Among other illustrations of its truth which might be cited, Scotland will furnish a cogent example. The spirit of clanship which was, at an early day, introduced into that kingdom, uniting the nobles and their dependants by ties equivalent to those of kindred, rendered the aristocracy a constant overmatch for the power of the monarch, till the incorporation with England subdued its fierce and ungovernable spirit, and reduced it within those rules of subordination which a more rational and more energetic system of civil polity had previously established in the latter kingdom. The separate governments in a confederacy may aptly be compared with the feudal baronies; with this advantage in their favor, that from the reasons already explained, they will generally possess the confidence and goodwill of the people, and with so important a support, will be able effectually to oppose all encroachments of the national government. It will be well if they are not able to counteract its legitimate and necessary authority. The points of similitude consist in the rivalship of power, applicable to both, and in the CONCENTRATION of large portions of the strength of the community into particular DEPOSITORIES, in one case at the disposal of individuals, in the other case at the disposal of political bodies. A concise review of the events that have attended confederate governments will further illustrate this important doctrine; an inattention to which has been the great source of our political mistakes, and has given our jealousy a direction to the wrong side. This review shall form the subject of some ensuing papers. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 18 The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the New York Packet. Friday, December 7, 1787 MADISON, with HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: AMONG the confederacies of antiquity, the most considerable was that of the Grecian republics, associated under the Amphictyonic council. From the best accounts transmitted of this celebrated institution, it bore a very instructive analogy to the present Confederation of the American States. The members retained the character of independent and sovereign states, and had equal votes in the federal council. This council had a general authority to propose and resolve whatever it judged necessary for the common welfare of Greece; to declare and carry on war; to decide, in the last resort, all controversies between the members; to fine the aggressing party; to employ the whole force of the confederacy against the disobedient; to admit new members. The Amphictyons were the guardians of religion, and of the immense riches belonging to the temple of Delphos, where they had the right of jurisdiction in controversies between the inhabitants and those who came to consult the oracle. As a further provision for the efficacy of the federal powers, they took an oath mutually to defend and protect the united cities, to punish the violators of this oath, and to inflict vengeance on sacrilegious despoilers of the temple. In theory, and upon paper, this apparatus of powers seems amply sufficient for all general purposes. In several material instances, they exceed the powers enumerated in the articles of confederation. The Amphictyons had in their hands the superstition of the times, one of the principal engines by which government was then maintained; they had a declared authority to use coercion against refractory cities, and were bound by oath to exert this authority on the necessary occasions. Very different, nevertheless, was the experiment from the theory. The powers, like those of the present Congress, were administered by deputies appointed wholly by the cities in their political capacities; and exercised over them in the same capacities. Hence the weakness, the disorders, and finally the destruction of the confederacy. The more powerful members, instead of being kept in awe and subordination, tyrannized successively over all the rest. Athens, as we learn from Demosthenes, was the arbiter of Greece seventythree years. The Lacedaemonians next governed it twentynine years; at a subsequent period, after the battle of Leuctra, the Thebans had their turn of domination. It happened but too often, according to Plutarch, that the deputies of the strongest cities awed and corrupted those of the weaker; and that judgment went in favor of the most powerful party. Even in the midst of defensive and dangerous wars with Persia and Macedon, the members never acted in concert, and were, more or fewer of them, eternally the dupes or the hirelings of the common enemy. The intervals of foreign war were filled up by domestic vicissitudes convulsions, and carnage. After the conclusion of the war with Xerxes, it appears that the Lacedaemonians required that a number of the cities should be turned out of the confederacy for the unfaithful part they had acted. The Athenians, finding that the Lacedaemonians would lose fewer partisans by such a measure than themselves, and would become masters of the public deliberations, vigorously opposed and defeated the attempt. This piece of history proves at once the inefficiency of the union, the ambition and jealousy of its most powerful members, and the dependent and degraded condition of the rest. The smaller members, though entitled by the theory of their system to revolve in equal pride and majesty around the common center, had become, in fact, satellites of the orbs of primary magnitude. Had the Greeks, says the Abbe Milot, been as wise as they were courageous, they would have been admonished by experience of the necessity of a closer union, and would have availed themselves of the peace which followed their success against the Persian arms, to establish such a reformation. Instead of this obvious policy, Athens and Sparta, inflated with the victories and the glory they had acquired, became first rivals and then enemies; and did each other infinitely more mischief than they had suffered from Xerxes. Their mutual jealousies, fears, hatreds, and injuries ended in the celebrated Peloponnesian war; which itself ended in the ruin and slavery of the Athenians who had begun it. As a weak government, when not at war, is ever agitated by internal dissentions, so these never fail to bring on fresh calamities from abroad. The Phocians having ploughed up some consecrated ground belonging to the temple of Apollo, the Amphictyonic council, according to the superstition of the age, imposed a fine on the sacrilegious offenders. The Phocians, being abetted by Athens and Sparta, refused to submit to the decree. The Thebans, with others of the cities, undertook to maintain the authority of the Amphictyons, and to avenge the violated god. The latter, being the weaker party, invited the assistance of Philip of Macedon, who had secretly fostered the contest. Philip gladly seized the opportunity of executing the designs he had long planned against the liberties of Greece. By his intrigues and bribes he won over to his interests the popular leaders of several cities; by their influence and votes, gained admission into the Amphictyonic council; and by his arts and his arms, made himself master of the confederacy. Such were the consequences of the fallacious principle on which this interesting establishment was founded. Had Greece, says a judicious observer on her fate, been united by a stricter confederation, and persevered in her union, she would never have worn the chains of Macedon; and might have proved a barrier to the vast projects of Rome. The Achaean league, as it is called, was another society of Grecian republics, which supplies us with valuable instruction. The Union here was far more intimate, and its organization much wiser, than in the preceding instance. It will accordingly appear, that though not exempt from a similar catastrophe, it by no means equally deserved it. The cities composing this league retained their municipal jurisdiction, appointed their own officers, and enjoyed a perfect equality. The senate, in which they were represented, had the sole and exclusive right of peace and war; of sending and receiving ambassadors; of entering into treaties and alliances; of appointing a chief magistrate or praetor, as he was called, who commanded their armies, and who, with the advice and consent of ten of the senators, not only administered the government in the recess of the senate, but had a great share in its deliberations, when assembled. According to the primitive constitution, there were two praetors associated in the administration; but on trial a single one was preferred. It appears that the cities had all the same laws and customs, the same weights and measures, and the same money. But how far this effect proceeded from the authority of the federal council is left in uncertainty. It is said only that the cities were in a manner compelled to receive the same laws and usages. When Lacedaemon was brought into the league by Philopoemen, it was attended with an abolition of the institutions and laws of Lycurgus, and an adoption of those of the Achaeans. The Amphictyonic confederacy, of which she had been a member, left her in the full exercise of her government and her legislation. This circumstance alone proves a very material difference in the genius of the two systems. It is much to be regretted that such imperfect monuments remain of this curious political fabric. Could its interior structure and regular operation be ascertained, it is probable that more light would be thrown by it on the science of federal government, than by any of the like experiments with which we are acquainted. One important fact seems to be witnessed by all the historians who take notice of Achaean affairs. It is, that as well after the renovation of the league by Aratus, as before its dissolution by the arts of Macedon, there was infinitely more of moderation and justice in the administration of its government, and less of violence and sedition in the people, than were to be found in any of the cities exercising SINGLY all the prerogatives of sovereignty. The Abbe Mably, in his observations on Greece, says that the popular government, which was so tempestuous elsewhere, caused no disorders in the members of the Achaean republic, BECAUSE IT WAS THERE TEMPERED BY THE GENERAL AUTHORITY AND LAWS OF THE CONFEDERACY. We are not to conclude too hastily, however, that faction did not, in a certain degree, agitate the particular cities; much less that a due subordination and harmony reigned in the general system. The contrary is sufficiently displayed in the vicissitudes and fate of the republic. Whilst the Amphictyonic confederacy remained, that of the Achaeans, which comprehended the less important cities only, made little figure on the theatre of Greece. When the former became a victim to Macedon, the latter was spared by the policy of Philip and Alexander. Under the successors of these princes, however, a different policy prevailed. The arts of division were practiced among the Achaeans. Each city was seduced into a separate interest; the union was dissolved. Some of the cities fell under the tyranny of Macedonian garrisons; others under that of usurpers springing out of their own confusions. Shame and oppression erelong awaken their love of liberty. A few cities reunited. Their example was followed by others, as opportunities were found of cutting off their tyrants. The league soon embraced almost the whole Peloponnesus. Macedon saw its progress; but was hindered by internal dissensions from stopping it. All Greece caught the enthusiasm and seemed ready to unite in one confederacy, when the jealousy and envy in Sparta and Athens, of the rising glory of the Achaeans, threw a fatal damp on the enterprise. The dread of the Macedonian power induced the league to court the alliance of the Kings of Egypt and Syria, who, as successors of Alexander, were rivals of the king of Macedon. This policy was defeated by Cleomenes, king of Sparta, who was led by his ambition to make an unprovoked attack on his neighbors, the Achaeans, and who, as an enemy to Macedon, had interest enough with the Egyptian and Syrian princes to effect a breach of their engagements with the league. The Achaeans were now reduced to the dilemma of submitting to Cleomenes, or of supplicating the aid of Macedon, its former oppressor. The latter expedient was adopted. The contests of the Greeks always afforded a pleasing opportunity to that powerful neighbor of intermeddling in their affairs. A Macedonian army quickly appeared. Cleomenes was vanquished. The Achaeans soon experienced, as often happens, that a victorious and powerful ally is but another name for a master. All that their most abject compliances could obtain from him was a toleration of the exercise of their laws. Philip, who was now on the throne of Macedon, soon provoked by his tyrannies, fresh combinations among the Greeks. The Achaeans, though weakened by internal dissensions and by the revolt of Messene, one of its members, being joined by the AEtolians and Athenians, erected the standard of opposition. Finding themselves, though thus supported, unequal to the undertaking, they once more had recourse to the dangerous expedient of introducing the succor of foreign arms. The Romans, to whom the invitation was made, eagerly embraced it. Philip was conquered; Macedon subdued. A new crisis ensued to the league. Dissensions broke out among it members. These the Romans fostered. Callicrates and other popular leaders became mercenary instruments for inveigling their countrymen. The more effectually to nourish discord and disorder the Romans had, to the astonishment of those who confided in their sincerity, already proclaimed universal liberty(1) throughout Greece. With the same insidious views, they now seduced the members from the league, by representing to their pride the violation it committed on their sovereignty. By these arts this union, the last hope of Greece, the last hope of ancient liberty, was torn into pieces; and such imbecility and distraction introduced, that the arms of Rome found little difficulty in completing the ruin which their arts had commenced. The Achaeans were cut to pieces, and Achaia loaded with chains, under which it is groaning at this hour. I have thought it not superfluous to give the outlines of this important portion of history; both because it teaches more than one lesson, and because, as a supplement to the outlines of the Achaean constitution, it emphatically illustrates the tendency of federal bodies rather to anarchy among the members, than to tyranny in the head. PUBLIUS 1. This was but another name more specious for the independence of the members on the federal head. FEDERALIST No. 19 The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, December 8, 1787 MADISON, with HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE examples of ancient confederacies, cited in my last paper, have not exhausted the source of experimental instruction on this subject. There are existing institutions, founded on a similar principle, which merit particular consideration. The first which presents itself is the Germanic body. In the early ages of Christianity, Germany was occupied by seven distinct nations, who had no common chief. The Franks, one of the number, having conquered the Gauls, established the kingdom which has taken its name from them. In the ninth century Charlemagne, its warlike monarch, carried his victorious arms in every direction; and Germany became a part of his vast dominions. On the dismemberment, which took place under his sons, this part was erected into a separate and independent empire. Charlemagne and his immediate descendants possessed the reality, as well as the ensigns and dignity of imperial power. But the principal vassals, whose fiefs had become hereditary, and who composed the national diets which Charlemagne had not abolished, gradually threw off the yoke and advanced to sovereign jurisdiction and independence. The force of imperial sovereignty was insufficient to restrain such powerful dependants; or to preserve the unity and tranquillity of the empire. The most furious private wars, accompanied with every species of calamity, were carried on between the different princes and states. The imperial authority, unable to maintain the public order, declined by degrees till it was almost extinct in the anarchy, which agitated the long interval between the death of the last emperor of the Suabian, and the accession of the first emperor of the Austrian lines. In the eleventh century the emperors enjoyed full sovereignty: In the fifteenth they had little more than the symbols and decorations of power. Out of this feudal system, which has itself many of the important features of a confederacy, has grown the federal system which constitutes the Germanic empire. Its powers are vested in a diet representing the component members of the confederacy; in the emperor, who is the executive magistrate, with a negative on the decrees of the diet; and in the imperial chamber and the aulic council, two judiciary tribunals having supreme jurisdiction in controversies which concern the empire, or which happen among its members. The diet possesses the general power of legislating for the empire; of making war and peace; contracting alliances; assessing quotas of troops and money; constructing fortresses; regulating coin; admitting new members; and subjecting disobedient members to the ban of the empire, by which the party is degraded from his sovereign rights and his possessions forfeited. The members of the confederacy are expressly restricted from entering into compacts prejudicial to the empire; from imposing tolls and duties on their mutual intercourse, without the consent of the emperor and diet; from altering the value of money; from doing injustice to one another; or from affording assistance or retreat to disturbers of the public peace. And the ban is denounced against such as shall violate any of these restrictions. The members of the diet, as such, are subject in all cases to be judged by the emperor and diet, and in their private capacities by the aulic council and imperial chamber. The prerogatives of the emperor are numerous. The most important of them are: his exclusive right to make propositions to the diet; to negative its resolutions; to name ambassadors; to confer dignities and titles; to fill vacant electorates; to found universities; to grant privileges not injurious to the states of the empire; to receive and apply the public revenues; and generally to watch over the public safety. In certain cases, the electors form a council to him. In quality of emperor, he possesses no territory within the empire, nor receives any revenue for his support. But his revenue and dominions, in other qualities, constitute him one of the most powerful princes in Europe. From such a parade of constitutional powers, in the representatives and head of this confederacy, the natural supposition would be, that it must form an exception to the general character which belongs to its kindred systems. Nothing would be further from the reality. The fundamental principle on which it rests, that the empire is a community of sovereigns, that the diet is a representation of sovereigns and that the laws are addressed to sovereigns, renders the empire a nerveless body, incapable of regulating its own members, insecure against external dangers, and agitated with unceasing fermentations in its own bowels. The history of Germany is a history of wars between the emperor and the princes and states; of wars among the princes and states themselves; of the licentiousness of the strong, and the oppression of the weak; of foreign intrusions, and foreign intrigues; of requisitions of men and money disregarded, or partially complied with; of attempts to enforce them, altogether abortive, or attended with slaughter and desolation, involving the innocent with the guilty; of general imbecility, confusion, and misery. In the sixteenth century, the emperor, with one part of the empire on his side, was seen engaged against the other princes and states. In one of the conflicts, the emperor himself was put to flight, and very near being made prisoner by the elector of Saxony. The late king of Prussia was more than once pitted against his imperial sovereign; and commonly proved an overmatch for him. Controversies and wars among the members themselves have been so common, that the German annals are crowded with the bloody pages which describe them. Previous to the peace of Westphalia, Germany was desolated by a war of thirty years, in which the emperor, with one half of the empire, was on one side, and Sweden, with the other half, on the opposite side. Peace was at length negotiated, and dictated by foreign powers; and the articles of it, to which foreign powers are parties, made a fundamental part of the Germanic constitution. If the nation happens, on any emergency, to be more united by the necessity of selfdefense, its situation is still deplorable. Military preparations must be preceded by so many tedious discussions, arising from the jealousies, pride, separate views, and clashing pretensions of sovereign bodies, that before the diet can settle the arrangements, the enemy are in the field; and before the federal troops are ready to take it, are retiring into winter quarters. The small body of national troops, which has been judged necessary in time of peace, is defectively kept up, badly paid, infected with local prejudices, and supported by irregular and disproportionate contributions to the treasury. The impossibility of maintaining order and dispensing justice among these sovereign subjects, produced the experiment of dividing the empire into nine or ten circles or districts; of giving them an interior organization, and of charging them with the military execution of the laws against delinquent and contumacious members. This experiment has only served to demonstrate more fully the radical vice of the constitution. Each circle is the miniature picture of the deformities of this political monster. They either fail to execute their commissions, or they do it with all the devastation and carnage of civil war. Sometimes whole circles are defaulters; and then they increase the mischief which they were instituted to remedy. We may form some judgment of this scheme of military coercion from a sample given by Thuanus. In Donawerth, a free and imperial city of the circle of Suabia, the Abbe de St. Croix enjoyed certain immunities which had been reserved to him. In the exercise of these, on some public occasions, outrages were committed on him by the people of the city. The consequence was that the city was put under the ban of the empire, and the Duke of Bavaria, though director of another circle, obtained an appointment to enforce it. He soon appeared before the city with a corps of ten thousand troops, and finding it a fit occasion, as he had secretly intended from the beginning, to revive an antiquated claim, on the pretext that his ancestors had suffered the place to be dismembered from his territory,(1) he took possession of it in his own name, disarmed, and punished the inhabitants, and reannexed the city to his domains. It may be asked, perhaps, what has so long kept this disjointed machine from falling entirely to pieces? The answer is obvious: The weakness of most of the members, who are unwilling to expose themselves to the mercy of foreign powers; the weakness of most of the principal members, compared with the formidable powers all around them; the vast weight and influence which the emperor derives from his separate and hereditary dominions; and the interest he feels in preserving a system with which his family pride is connected, and which constitutes him the first prince in Europe;these causes support a feeble and precarious Union; whilst the repellant quality, incident to the nature of sovereignty, and which time continually strengthens, prevents any reform whatever, founded on a proper consolidation. Nor is it to be imagined, if this obstacle could be surmounted, that the neighboring powers would suffer a revolution to take place which would give to the empire the force and preeminence to which it is entitled. Foreign nations have long considered themselves as interested in the changes made by events in this constitution; and have, on various occasions, betrayed their policy of perpetuating its anarchy and weakness. If more direct examples were wanting, Poland, as a government over local sovereigns, might not improperly be taken notice of. Nor could any proof more striking be given of the calamities flowing from such institutions. Equally unfit for selfgovernment and selfdefense, it has long been at the mercy of its powerful neighbors; who have lately had the mercy to disburden it of one third of its people and territories. The connection among the Swiss cantons scarcely amounts to a confederacy; though it is sometimes cited as an instance of the stability of such institutions. They have no common treasury; no common troops even in war; no common coin; no common judicatory; nor any other common mark of sovereignty. They are kept together by the peculiarity of their topographical position; by their individual weakness and insignificancy; by the fear of powerful neighbors, to one of which they were formerly subject; by the few sources of contention among a people of such simple and homogeneous manners; by their joint interest in their dependent possessions; by the mutual aid they stand in need of, for suppressing insurrections and rebellions, an aid expressly stipulated and often required and afforded; and by the necessity of some regular and permanent provision for accommodating disputes among the cantons. The provision is, that the parties at variance shall each choose four judges out of the neutral cantons, who, in case of disagreement, choose an umpire. This tribunal, under an oath of impartiality, pronounces definitive sentence, which all the cantons are bound to enforce. The competency of this regulation may be estimated by a clause in their treaty of 1683, with Victor Amadeus of Savoy; in which he obliges himself to interpose as mediator in disputes between the cantons, and to employ force, if necessary, against the contumacious party. So far as the peculiarity of their case will admit of comparison with that of the United States, it serves to confirm the principle intended to be established. Whatever efficacy the union may have had in ordinary cases, it appears that the moment a cause of difference sprang up, capable of trying its strength, it failed. The controversies on the subject of religion, which in three instances have kindled violent and bloody contests, may be said, in fact, to have severed the league. The Protestant and Catholic cantons have since had their separate diets, where all the most important concerns are adjusted, and which have left the general diet little other business than to take care of the common bailages. That separation had another consequence, which merits attention. It produced opposite alliances with foreign powers: of Berne, at the head of the Protestant association, with the United Provinces; and of Luzerne, at the head of the Catholic association, with France. PUBLIUS 1. Pfeffel, \"Nouvel Abrg. Chronol. de l'Hist., etc., d'Allemagne,\" says the pretext was to indemnify himself for the expense of the expedition. FEDERALIST No. 20 The Same Subject Continued (The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 11, 1787. MADISON, with HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE United Netherlands are a confederacy of republics, or rather of aristocracies of a very remarkable texture, yet confirming all the lessons derived from those which we have already reviewed. The union is composed of seven coequal and sovereign states, and each state or province is a composition of equal and independent cities. In all important cases, not only the provinces but the cities must be unanimous. The sovereignty of the Union is represented by the StatesGeneral, consisting usually of about fifty deputies appointed by the provinces. They hold their seats, some for life, some for six, three, and one years; from two provinces they continue in appointment during pleasure. The StatesGeneral have authority to enter into treaties and alliances; to make war and peace; to raise armies and equip fleets; to ascertain quotas and demand contributions. In all these cases, however, unanimity and the sanction of their constituents are requisite. They have authority to appoint and receive ambassadors; to execute treaties and alliances already formed; to provide for the collection of duties on imports and exports; to regulate the mint, with a saving to the provincial rights; to govern as sovereigns the dependent territories. The provinces are restrained, unless with the general consent, from entering into foreign treaties; from establishing imposts injurious to others, or charging their neighbors with higher duties than their own subjects. A council of state, a chamber of accounts, with five colleges of admiralty, aid and fortify the federal administration. The executive magistrate of the union is the stadtholder, who is now an hereditary prince. His principal weight and influence in the republic are derived from this independent title; from his great patrimonial estates; from his family connections with some of the chief potentates of Europe; and, more than all, perhaps, from his being stadtholder in the several provinces, as well as for the union; in which provincial quality he has the appointment of town magistrates under certain regulations, executes provincial decrees, presides when he pleases in the provincial tribunals, and has throughout the power of pardon. As stadtholder of the union, he has, however, considerable prerogatives. In his political capacity he has authority to settle disputes between the provinces, when other methods fail; to assist at the deliberations of the StatesGeneral, and at their particular conferences; to give audiences to foreign ambassadors, and to keep agents for his particular affairs at foreign courts. In his military capacity he commands the federal troops, provides for garrisons, and in general regulates military affairs; disposes of all appointments, from colonels to ensigns, and of the governments and posts of fortified towns. In his marine capacity he is admiralgeneral, and superintends and directs every thing relative to naval forces and other naval affairs; presides in the admiralties in person or by proxy; appoints lieutenantadmirals and other officers; and establishes councils of war, whose sentences are not executed till he approves them. His revenue, exclusive of his private income, amounts to three hundred thousand florins. The standing army which he commands consists of about forty thousand men. Such is the nature of the celebrated Belgic confederacy, as delineated on parchment. What are the characters which practice has stamped upon it? Imbecility in the government; discord among the provinces; foreign influence and indignities; a precarious existence in peace, and peculiar calamities from war. It was long ago remarked by Grotius, that nothing but the hatred of his countrymen to the house of Austria kept them from being ruined by the vices of their constitution. The union of Utrecht, says another respectable writer, reposes an authority in the StatesGeneral, seemingly sufficient to secure harmony, but the jealousy in each province renders the practice very different from the theory. The same instrument, says another, obliges each province to levy certain contributions; but this article never could, and probably never will, be executed; because the inland provinces, who have little commerce, cannot pay an equal quota. In matters of contribution, it is the practice to waive the articles of the constitution. The danger of delay obliges the consenting provinces to furnish their quotas, without waiting for the others; and then to obtain reimbursement from the others, by deputations, which are frequent, or otherwise, as they can. The great wealth and influence of the province of Holland enable her to effect both these purposes. It has more than once happened, that the deficiencies had to be ultimately collected at the point of the bayonet; a thing practicable, though dreadful, in a confederacy where one of the members exceeds in force all the rest, and where several of them are too small to meditate resistance; but utterly impracticable in one composed of members, several of which are equal to each other in strength and resources, and equal singly to a vigorous and persevering defense. Foreign ministers, says Sir William Temple, who was himself a foreign minister, elude matters taken ad referendum, by tampering with the provinces and cities. In 1726, the treaty of Hanover was delayed by these means a whole year. Instances of a like nature are numerous and notorious. In critical emergencies, the StatesGeneral are often compelled to overleap their constitutional bounds. In 1688, they concluded a treaty of themselves at the risk of their heads. The treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, by which their independence was formerly and finally recognized, was concluded without the consent of Zealand. Even as recently as the last treaty of peace with Great Britain, the constitutional principle of unanimity was departed from. A weak constitution must necessarily terminate in dissolution, for want of proper powers, or the usurpation of powers requisite for the public safety. Whether the usurpation, when once begun, will stop at the salutary point, or go forward to the dangerous extreme, must depend on the contingencies of the moment. Tyranny has perhaps oftener grown out of the assumptions of power, called for, on pressing exigencies, by a defective constitution, than out of the full exercise of the largest constitutional authorities. Notwithstanding the calamities produced by the stadtholdership, it has been supposed that without his influence in the individual provinces, the causes of anarchy manifest in the confederacy would long ago have dissolved it. \"Under such a government,\" says the Abbe Mably, \"the Union could never have subsisted, if the provinces had not a spring within themselves, capable of quickening their tardiness, and compelling them to the same way of thinking. This spring is the stadtholder.\" It is remarked by Sir William Temple, \"that in the intermissions of the stadtholdership, Holland, by her riches and her authority, which drew the others into a sort of dependence, supplied the place.\" These are not the only circumstances which have controlled the tendency to anarchy and dissolution. The surrounding powers impose an absolute necessity of union to a certain degree, at the same time that they nourish by their intrigues the constitutional vices which keep the republic in some degree always at their mercy. The true patriots have long bewailed the fatal tendency of these vices, and have made no less than four regular experiments by EXTRAORDINARY ASSEMBLIES, convened for the special purpose, to apply a remedy. As many times has their laudable zeal found it impossible to UNITE THE PUBLIC COUNCILS in reforming the known, the acknowledged, the fatal evils of the existing constitution. Let us pause, my fellowcitizens, for one moment, over this melancholy and monitory lesson of history; and with the tear that drops for the calamities brought on mankind by their adverse opinions and selfish passions, let our gratitude mingle an ejaculation to Heaven, for the propitious concord which has distinguished the consultations for our political happiness. A design was also conceived of establishing a general tax to be administered by the federal authority. This also had its adversaries and failed. This unhappy people seem to be now suffering from popular convulsions, from dissensions among the states, and from the actual invasion of foreign arms, the crisis of their destiny. All nations have their eyes fixed on the awful spectacle. The first wish prompted by humanity is, that this severe trial may issue in such a revolution of their government as will establish their union, and render it the parent of tranquillity, freedom and happiness: The next, that the asylum under which, we trust, the enjoyment of these blessings will speedily be secured in this country, may receive and console them for the catastrophe of their own. I make no apology for having dwelt so long on the contemplation of these federal precedents. Experience is the oracle of truth; and where its responses are unequivocal, they ought to be conclusive and sacred. The important truth, which it unequivocally pronounces in the present case, is that a sovereignty over sovereigns, a government over governments, a legislation for communities, as contradistinguished from individuals, as it is a solecism in theory, so in practice it is subversive of the order and ends of civil polity, by substituting VIOLENCE in place of LAW, or the destructive COERCION of the SWORD in place of the mild and salutary COERCION of the MAGISTRACY. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 21 Other Defects of the Present Confederation For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, December 12, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: HAVING in the three last numbers taken a summary review of the principal circumstances and events which have depicted the genius and fate of other confederate governments, I shall now proceed in the enumeration of the most important of those defects which have hitherto disappointed our hopes from the system established among ourselves. To form a safe and satisfactory judgment of the proper remedy, it is absolutely necessary that we should be well acquainted with the extent and malignity of the disease. The next most palpable defect of the subsisting Confederation, is the total want of a SANCTION to its laws. The United States, as now composed, have no powers to exact obedience, or punish disobedience to their resolutions, either by pecuniary mulcts, by a suspension or divestiture of privileges, or by any other constitutional mode. There is no express delegation of authority to them to use force against delinquent members; and if such a right should be ascribed to the federal head, as resulting from the nature of the social compact between the States, it must be by inference and construction, in the face of that part of the second article, by which it is declared, \"that each State shall retain every power, jurisdiction, and right, not EXPRESSLY delegated to the United States in Congress assembled.\" There is, doubtless, a striking absurdity in supposing that a right of this kind does not exist, but we are reduced to the dilemma either of embracing that supposition, preposterous as it may seem, or of contravening or explaining away a provision, which has been of late a repeated theme of the eulogies of those who oppose the new Constitution; and the want of which, in that plan, has been the subject of much plausible animadversion, and severe criticism. If we are unwilling to impair the force of this applauded provision, we shall be obliged to conclude, that the United States afford the extraordinary spectacle of a government destitute even of the shadow of constitutional power to enforce the execution of its own laws. It will appear, from the specimens which have been cited, that the American Confederacy, in this particular, stands discriminated from every other institution of a similar kind, and exhibits a new and unexampled phenomenon in the political world. The want of a mutual guaranty of the State governments is another capital imperfection in the federal plan. There is nothing of this kind declared in the articles that compose it; and to imply a tacit guaranty from considerations of utility, would be a still more flagrant departure from the clause which has been mentioned, than to imply a tacit power of coercion from the like considerations. The want of a guaranty, though it might in its consequences endanger the Union, does not so immediately attack its existence as the want of a constitutional sanction to its laws. Without a guaranty the assistance to be derived from the Union in repelling those domestic dangers which may sometimes threaten the existence of the State constitutions, must be renounced. Usurpation may rear its crest in each State, and trample upon the liberties of the people, while the national government could legally do nothing more than behold its encroachments with indignation and regret. A successful faction may erect a tyranny on the ruins of order and law, while no succor could constitutionally be afforded by the Union to the friends and supporters of the government. The tempestuous situation from which Massachusetts has scarcely emerged, evinces that dangers of this kind are not merely speculative. Who can determine what might have been the issue of her late convulsions, if the malcontents had been headed by a Caesar or by a Cromwell? Who can predict what effect a despotism, established in Massachusetts, would have upon the liberties of New Hampshire or Rhode Island, of Connecticut or New York? The inordinate pride of State importance has suggested to some minds an objection to the principle of a guaranty in the federal government, as involving an officious interference in the domestic concerns of the members. A scruple of this kind would deprive us of one of the principal advantages to be expected from union, and can only flow from a misapprehension of the nature of the provision itself. It could be no impediment to reforms of the State constitution by a majority of the people in a legal and peaceable mode. This right would remain undiminished. The guaranty could only operate against changes to be effected by violence. Towards the preventions of calamities of this kind, too many checks cannot be provided. The peace of society and the stability of government depend absolutely on the efficacy of the precautions adopted on this head. Where the whole power of the government is in the hands of the people, there is the less pretense for the use of violent remedies in partial or occasional distempers of the State. The natural cure for an illadministration, in a popular or representative constitution, is a change of men. A guaranty by the national authority would be as much levelled against the usurpations of rulers as against the ferments and outrages of faction and sedition in the community. The principle of regulating the contributions of the States to the common treasury by QUOTAS is another fundamental error in the Confederation. Its repugnancy to an adequate supply of the national exigencies has been already pointed out, and has sufficiently appeared from the trial which has been made of it. I speak of it now solely with a view to equality among the States. Those who have been accustomed to contemplate the circumstances which produce and constitute national wealth, must be satisfied that there is no common standard or barometer by which the degrees of it can be ascertained. Neither the value of lands, nor the numbers of the people, which have been successively proposed as the rule of State contributions, has any pretension to being a just representative. If we compare the wealth of the United Netherlands with that of Russia or Germany, or even of France, and if we at the same time compare the total value of the lands and the aggregate population of that contracted district with the total value of the lands and the aggregate population of the immense regions of either of the three lastmentioned countries, we shall at once discover that there is no comparison between the proportion of either of these two objects and that of the relative wealth of those nations. If the like parallel were to be run between several of the American States, it would furnish a like result. Let Virginia be contrasted with North Carolina, Pennsylvania with Connecticut, or Maryland with New Jersey, and we shall be convinced that the respective abilities of those States, in relation to revenue, bear little or no analogy to their comparative stock in lands or to their comparative population. The position may be equally illustrated by a similar process between the counties of the same State. No man who is acquainted with the State of New York will doubt that the active wealth of King's County bears a much greater proportion to that of Montgomery than it would appear to be if we should take either the total value of the lands or the total number of the people as a criterion! The wealth of nations depends upon an infinite variety of causes. Situation, soil, climate, the nature of the productions, the nature of the government, the genius of the citizens, the degree of information they possess, the state of commerce, of arts, of industry, these circumstances and many more, too complex, minute, or adventitious to admit of a particular specification, occasion differences hardly conceivable in the relative opulence and riches of different countries. The consequence clearly is that there can be no common measure of national wealth, and, of course, no general or stationary rule by which the ability of a state to pay taxes can be determined. The attempt, therefore, to regulate the contributions of the members of a confederacy by any such rule, cannot fail to be productive of glaring inequality and extreme oppression. This inequality would of itself be sufficient in America to work the eventual destruction of the Union, if any mode of enforcing a compliance with its requisitions could be devised. The suffering States would not long consent to remain associated upon a principle which distributes the public burdens with so unequal a hand, and which was calculated to impoverish and oppress the citizens of some States, while those of others would scarcely be conscious of the small proportion of the weight they were required to sustain. This, however, is an evil inseparable from the principle of quotas and requisitions. There is no method of steering clear of this inconvenience, but by authorizing the national government to raise its own revenues in its own way. Imposts, excises, and, in general, all duties upon articles of consumption, may be compared to a fluid, which will, in time, find its level with the means of paying them. The amount to be contributed by each citizen will in a degree be at his own option, and can be regulated by an attention to his resources. The rich may be extravagant, the poor can be frugal; and private oppression may always be avoided by a judicious selection of objects proper for such impositions. If inequalities should arise in some States from duties on particular objects, these will, in all probability, be counterbalanced by proportional inequalities in other States, from the duties on other objects. In the course of time and things, an equilibrium, as far as it is attainable in so complicated a subject, will be established everywhere. Or, if inequalities should still exist, they would neither be so great in their degree, so uniform in their operation, nor so odious in their appearance, as those which would necessarily spring from quotas, upon any scale that can possibly be devised. It is a signal advantage of taxes on articles of consumption, that they contain in their own nature a security against excess. They prescribe their own limit; which cannot be exceeded without defeating the end proposed, that is, an extension of the revenue. When applied to this object, the saying is as just as it is witty, that, \"in political arithmetic, two and two do not always make four.\" If duties are too high, they lessen the consumption; the collection is eluded; and the product to the treasury is not so great as when they are confined within proper and moderate bounds. This forms a complete barrier against any material oppression of the citizens by taxes of this class, and is itself a natural limitation of the power of imposing them. Impositions of this kind usually fall under the denomination of indirect taxes, and must for a long time constitute the chief part of the revenue raised in this country. Those of the direct kind, which principally relate to land and buildings, may admit of a rule of apportionment. Either the value of land, or the number of the people, may serve as a standard. The state of agriculture and the populousness of a country have been considered as nearly connected with each other. And, as a rule, for the purpose intended, numbers, in the view of simplicity and certainty, are entitled to a preference. In every country it is a herculean task to obtain a valuation of the land; in a country imperfectly settled and progressive in improvement, the difficulties are increased almost to impracticability. The expense of an accurate valuation is, in all situations, a formidable objection. In a branch of taxation where no limits to the discretion of the government are to be found in the nature of things, the establishment of a fixed rule, not incompatible with the end, may be attended with fewer inconveniences than to leave that discretion altogether at large. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 22 The Same Subject Continued (Other Defects of the Present Confederation) From the New York Packet. Friday, December 14, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IN ADDITION to the defects already enumerated in the existing federal system, there are others of not less importance, which concur in rendering it altogether unfit for the administration of the affairs of the Union. The want of a power to regulate commerce is by all parties allowed to be of the number. The utility of such a power has been anticipated under the first head of our inquiries; and for this reason, as well as from the universal conviction entertained upon the subject, little need be added in this place. It is indeed evident, on the most superficial view, that there is no object, either as it respects the interests of trade or finance, that more strongly demands a federal superintendence. The want of it has already operated as a bar to the formation of beneficial treaties with foreign powers, and has given occasions of dissatisfaction between the States. No nation acquainted with the nature of our political association would be unwise enough to enter into stipulations with the United States, by which they conceded privileges of any importance to them, while they were apprised that the engagements on the part of the Union might at any moment be violated by its members, and while they found from experience that they might enjoy every advantage they desired in our markets, without granting us any return but such as their momentary convenience might suggest. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that Mr. Jenkinson, in ushering into the House of Commons a bill for regulating the temporary intercourse between the two countries, should preface its introduction by a declaration that similar provisions in former bills had been found to answer every purpose to the commerce of Great Britain, and that it would be prudent to persist in the plan until it should appear whether the American government was likely or not to acquire greater consistency.(1) Several States have endeavored, by separate prohibitions, restrictions, and exclusions, to influence the conduct of that kingdom in this particular, but the want of concert, arising from the want of a general authority and from clashing and dissimilar views in the State, has hitherto frustrated every experiment of the kind, and will continue to do so as long as the same obstacles to a uniformity of measures continue to exist. The interfering and unneighborly regulations of some States, contrary to the true spirit of the Union, have, in different instances, given just cause of umbrage and complaint to others, and it is to be feared that examples of this nature, if not restrained by a national control, would be multiplied and extended till they became not less serious sources of animosity and discord than injurious impediments to the intercourse between the different parts of the Confederacy. \"The commerce of the German empire(2) is in continual trammels from the multiplicity of the duties which the several princes and states exact upon the merchandises passing through their territories, by means of which the fine streams and navigable rivers with which Germany is so happily watered are rendered almost useless.\" Though the genius of the people of this country might never permit this description to be strictly applicable to us, yet we may reasonably expect, from the gradual conflicts of State regulations, that the citizens of each would at length come to be considered and treated by the others in no better light than that of foreigners and aliens. The power of raising armies, by the most obvious construction of the articles of the Confederation, is merely a power of making requisitions upon the States for quotas of men. This practice in the course of the late war, was found replete with obstructions to a vigorous and to an economical system of defense. It gave birth to a competition between the States which created a kind of auction for men. In order to furnish the quotas required of them, they outbid each other till bounties grew to an enormous and insupportable size. The hope of a still further increase afforded an inducement to those who were disposed to serve to procrastinate their enlistment, and disinclined them from engaging for any considerable periods. Hence, slow and scanty levies of men, in the most critical emergencies of our affairs; short enlistments at an unparalleled expense; continual fluctuations in the troops, ruinous to their discipline and subjecting the public safety frequently to the perilous crisis of a disbanded army. Hence, also, those oppressive expedients for raising men which were upon several occasions practiced, and which nothing but the enthusiasm of liberty would have induced the people to endure. This method of raising troops is not more unfriendly to economy and vigor than it is to an equal distribution of the burden. The States near the seat of war, influenced by motives of selfpreservation, made efforts to furnish their quotas, which even exceeded their abilities; while those at a distance from danger were, for the most part, as remiss as the others were diligent, in their exertions. The immediate pressure of this inequality was not in this case, as in that of the contributions of money, alleviated by the hope of a final liquidation. The States which did not pay their proportions of money might at least be charged with their deficiencies; but no account could be formed of the deficiencies in the supplies of men. We shall not, however, see much reason to regret the want of this hope, when we consider how little prospect there is, that the most delinquent States will ever be able to make compensation for their pecuniary failures. The system of quotas and requisitions, whether it be applied to men or money, is, in every view, a system of imbecility in the Union, and of inequality and injustice among the members. The right of equal suffrage among the States is another exceptionable part of the Confederation. Every idea of proportion and every rule of fair representation conspire to condemn a principle, which gives to Rhode Island an equal weight in the scale of power with Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New York; and to Delaware an equal voice in the national deliberations with Pennsylvania, or Virginia, or North Carolina. Its operation contradicts the fundamental maxim of republican government, which requires that the sense of the majority should prevail. Sophistry may reply, that sovereigns are equal, and that a majority of the votes of the States will be a majority of confederated America. But this kind of logical legerdemain will never counteract the plain suggestions of justice and commonsense. It may happen that this majority of States is a small minority of the people of America;(3) and two thirds of the people of America could not long be persuaded, upon the credit of artificial distinctions and syllogistic subtleties, to submit their interests to the management and disposal of one third. The larger States would after a while revolt from the idea of receiving the law from the smaller. To acquiesce in such a privation of their due importance in the political scale, would be not merely to be insensible to the love of power, but even to sacrifice the desire of equality. It is neither rational to expect the first, nor just to require the last. The smaller States, considering how peculiarly their safety and welfare depend on union, ought readily to renounce a pretension which, if not relinquished, would prove fatal to its duration. It may be objected to this, that not seven but nine States, or two thirds of the whole number, must consent to the most important resolutions; and it may be thence inferred that nine States would always comprehend a majority of the Union. But this does not obviate the impropriety of an equal vote between States of the most unequal dimensions and populousness; nor is the inference accurate in point of fact; for we can enumerate nine States which contain less than a majority of the people;(4) and it is constitutionally possible that these nine may give the vote. Besides, there are matters of considerable moment determinable by a bare majority; and there are others, concerning which doubts have been entertained, which, if interpreted in favor of the sufficiency of a vote of seven States, would extend its operation to interests of the first magnitude. In addition to this, it is to be observed that there is a probability of an increase in the number of States, and no provision for a proportional augmentation of the ratio of votes. But this is not all: what at first sight may seem a remedy, is, in reality, a poison. To give a minority a negative upon the majority (which is always the case where more than a majority is requisite to a decision), is, in its tendency, to subject the sense of the greater number to that of the lesser. Congress, from the nonattendance of a few States, have been frequently in the situation of a Polish diet, where a single VOTE has been sufficient to put a stop to all their movements. A sixtieth part of the Union, which is about the proportion of Delaware and Rhode Island, has several times been able to oppose an entire bar to its operations. This is one of those refinements which, in practice, has an effect the reverse of what is expected from it in theory. The necessity of unanimity in public bodies, or of something approaching towards it, has been founded upon a supposition that it would contribute to security. But its real operation is to embarrass the administration, to destroy the energy of the government, and to substitute the pleasure, caprice, or artifices of an insignificant, turbulent, or corrupt junto, to the regular deliberations and decisions of a respectable majority. In those emergencies of a nation, in which the goodness or badness, the weakness or strength of its government, is of the greatest importance, there is commonly a necessity for action. The public business must, in some way or other, go forward. If a pertinacious minority can control the opinion of a majority, respecting the best mode of conducting it, the majority, in order that something may be done, must conform to the views of the minority; and thus the sense of the smaller number will overrule that of the greater, and give a tone to the national proceedings. Hence, tedious delays; continual negotiation and intrigue; contemptible compromises of the public good. And yet, in such a system, it is even happy when such compromises can take place: for upon some occasions things will not admit of accommodation; and then the measures of government must be injuriously suspended, or fatally defeated. It is often, by the impracticability of obtaining the concurrence of the necessary number of votes, kept in a state of inaction. Its situation must always savor of weakness, sometimes border upon anarchy. It is not difficult to discover, that a principle of this kind gives greater scope to foreign corruption, as well as to domestic faction, than that which permits the sense of the majority to decide; though the contrary of this has been presumed. The mistake has proceeded from not attending with due care to the mischiefs that may be occasioned by obstructing the progress of government at certain critical seasons. When the concurrence of a large number is required by the Constitution to the doing of any national act, we are apt to rest satisfied that all is safe, because nothing improper will be likely TO BE DONE, but we forget how much good may be prevented, and how much ill may be produced, by the power of hindering the doing what may be necessary, and of keeping affairs in the same unfavorable posture in which they may happen to stand at particular periods. Suppose, for instance, we were engaged in a war, in conjunction with one foreign nation, against another. Suppose the necessity of our situation demanded peace, and the interest or ambition of our ally led him to seek the prosecution of the war, with views that might justify us in making separate terms. In such a state of things, this ally of ours would evidently find it much easier, by his bribes and intrigues, to tie up the hands of government from making peace, where two thirds of all the votes were requisite to that object, than where a simple majority would suffice. In the first case, he would have to corrupt a smaller number; in the last, a greater number. Upon the same principle, it would be much easier for a foreign power with which we were at war to perplex our councils and embarrass our exertions. And, in a commercial view, we may be subjected to similar inconveniences. A nation, with which we might have a treaty of commerce, could with much greater facility prevent our forming a connection with her competitor in trade, though such a connection should be ever so beneficial to ourselves. Evils of this description ought not to be regarded as imaginary. One of the weak sides of republics, among their numerous advantages, is that they afford too easy an inlet to foreign corruption. An hereditary monarch, though often disposed to sacrifice his subjects to his ambition, has so great a personal interest in the government and in the external glory of the nation, that it is not easy for a foreign power to give him an equivalent for what he would sacrifice by treachery to the state. The world has accordingly been witness to few examples of this species of royal prostitution, though there have been abundant specimens of every other kind. In republics, persons elevated from the mass of the community, by the suffrages of their fellowcitizens, to stations of great preeminence and power, may find compensations for betraying their trust, which, to any but minds animated and guided by superior virtue, may appear to exceed the proportion of interest they have in the common stock, and to overbalance the obligations of duty. Hence it is that history furnishes us with so many mortifying examples of the prevalency of foreign corruption in republican governments. How much this contributed to the ruin of the ancient commonwealths has been already delineated. It is well known that the deputies of the United Provinces have, in various instances, been purchased by the emissaries of the neighboring kingdoms. The Earl of Chesterfield (if my memory serves me right), in a letter to his court, intimates that his success in an important negotiation must depend on his obtaining a major's commission for one of those deputies. And in Sweden the parties were alternately bought by France and England in so barefaced and notorious a manner that it excited universal disgust in the nation, and was a principal cause that the most limited monarch in Europe, in a single day, without tumult, violence, or opposition, became one of the most absolute and uncontrolled. A circumstance which crowns the defects of the Confederation remains yet to be mentioned, the want of a judiciary power. Laws are a dead letter without courts to expound and define their true meaning and operation. The treaties of the United States, to have any force at all, must be considered as part of the law of the land. Their true import, as far as respects individuals, must, like all other laws, be ascertained by judicial determinations. To produce uniformity in these determinations, they ought to be submitted, in the last resort, to one SUPREME TRIBUNAL. And this tribunal ought to be instituted under the same authority which forms the treaties themselves. These ingredients are both indispensable. If there is in each State a court of final jurisdiction, there may be as many different final determinations on the same point as there are courts. There are endless diversities in the opinions of men. We often see not only different courts but the judges of the came court differing from each other. To avoid the confusion which would unavoidably result from the contradictory decisions of a number of independent judicatories, all nations have found it necessary to establish one court paramount to the rest, possessing a general superintendence, and authorized to settle and declare in the last resort a uniform rule of civil justice. This is the more necessary where the frame of the government is so compounded that the laws of the whole are in danger of being contravened by the laws of the parts. In this case, if the particular tribunals are invested with a right of ultimate jurisdiction, besides the contradictions to be expected from difference of opinion, there will be much to fear from the bias of local views and prejudices, and from the interference of local regulations. As often as such an interference was to happen, there would be reason to apprehend that the provisions of the particular laws might be preferred to those of the general laws; for nothing is more natural to men in office than to look with peculiar deference towards that authority to which they owe their official existence. The treaties of the United States, under the present Constitution, are liable to the infractions of thirteen different legislatures, and as many different courts of final jurisdiction, acting under the authority of those legislatures. The faith, the reputation, the peace of the whole Union, are thus continually at the mercy of the prejudices, the passions, and the interests of every member of which it is composed. Is it possible that foreign nations can either respect or confide in such a government? Is it possible that the people of America will longer consent to trust their honor, their happiness, their safety, on so precarious a foundation? In this review of the Confederation, I have confined myself to the exhibition of its most material defects; passing over those imperfections in its details by which even a great part of the power intended to be conferred upon it has been in a great measure rendered abortive. It must be by this time evident to all men of reflection, who can divest themselves of the prepossessions of preconceived opinions, that it is a system so radically vicious and unsound, as to admit not of amendment but by an entire change in its leading features and characters. The organization of Congress is itself utterly improper for the exercise of those powers which are necessary to be deposited in the Union. A single assembly may be a proper receptacle of those slender, or rather fettered, authorities, which have been heretofore delegated to the federal head; but it would be inconsistent with all the principles of good government, to intrust it with those additional powers which, even the moderate and more rational adversaries of the proposed Constitution admit, ought to reside in the United States. If that plan should not be adopted, and if the necessity of the Union should be able to withstand the ambitious aims of those men who may indulge magnificent schemes of personal aggrandizement from its dissolution, the probability would be, that we should run into the project of conferring supplementary powers upon Congress, as they are now constituted; and either the machine, from the intrinsic feebleness of its structure, will moulder into pieces, in spite of our illjudged efforts to prop it; or, by successive augmentations of its force an energy, as necessity might prompt, we shall finally accumulate, in a single body, all the most important prerogatives of sovereignty, and thus entail upon our posterity one of the most execrable forms of government that human infatuation ever contrived. Thus, we should create in reality that very tyranny which the adversaries of the new Constitution either are, or affect to be, solicitous to avert. It has not a little contributed to the infirmities of the existing federal system, that it never had a ratification by the PEOPLE. Resting on no better foundation than the consent of the several legislatures, it has been exposed to frequent and intricate questions concerning the validity of its powers, and has, in some instances, given birth to the enormous doctrine of a right of legislative repeal. Owing its ratification to the law of a State, it has been contended that the same authority might repeal the law by which it was ratified. However gross a heresy it may be to maintain that a PARTY to a COMPACT has a right to revoke that COMPACT, the doctrine itself has had respectable advocates. The possibility of a question of this nature proves the necessity of laying the foundations of our national government deeper than in the mere sanction of delegated authority. The fabric of American empire ought to rest on the solid basis of THE CONSENT OF THE PEOPLE. The streams of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure, original fountain of all legitimate authority. PUBLIUS 1. This, as nearly as I can recollect, was the sense of his speech on introducing the last bill. 2. Encyclopedia, article \"Empire.\" 3. New Hampshire, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Delaware, Georgia, South Carolina, and Maryland are a majority of the whole number of the States, but they do not contain one third of the people. 4. Add New York and Connecticut to the foregoing seven, and they will be less than a majority. FEDERALIST No. 23 The Necessity of a Government as Energetic as the One Proposed to the Preservation of the Union From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 18, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE necessity of a Constitution, at least equally energetic with the one proposed, to the preservation of the Union, is the point at the examination of which we are now arrived. This inquiry will naturally divide itself into three branchesthe objects to be provided for by the federal government, the quantity of power necessary to the accomplishment of those objects, the persons upon whom that power ought to operate. Its distribution and organization will more properly claim our attention under the succeeding head. The principal purposes to be answered by union are thesethe common defense of the members; the preservation of the public peace as well against internal convulsions as external attacks; the regulation of commerce with other nations and between the States; the superintendence of our intercourse, political and commercial, with foreign countries. The authorities essential to the common defense are these: to raise armies; to build and equip fleets; to prescribe rules for the government of both; to direct their operations; to provide for their support. These powers ought to exist without limitation, BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FORESEE OR DEFINE THE EXTENT AND VARIETY OF NATIONAL EXIGENCIES, OR THE CORRESPONDENT EXTENT AND VARIETY OF THE MEANS WHICH MAY BE NECESSARY TO SATISFY THEM. The circumstances that endanger the safety of nations are infinite, and for this reason no constitutional shackles can wisely be imposed on the power to which the care of it is committed. This power ought to be coextensive with all the possible combinations of such circumstances; and ought to be under the direction of the same councils which are appointed to preside over the common defense. This is one of those truths which, to a correct and unprejudiced mind, carries its own evidence along with it; and may be obscured, but cannot be made plainer by argument or reasoning. It rests upon axioms as simple as they are universal; the MEANS ought to be proportioned to the END; the persons, from whose agency the attainment of any END is expected, ought to possess the MEANS by which it is to be attained. Whether there ought to be a federal government intrusted with the care of the common defense, is a question in the first instance, open for discussion; but the moment it is decided in the affirmative, it will follow, that that government ought to be clothed with all the powers requisite to complete execution of its trust. And unless it can be shown that the circumstances which may affect the public safety are reducible within certain determinate limits; unless the contrary of this position can be fairly and rationally disputed, it must be admitted, as a necessary consequence, that there can be no limitation of that authority which is to provide for the defense and protection of the community, in any matter essential to its efficacy that is, in any matter essential to the FORMATION, DIRECTION, or SUPPORT of the NATIONAL FORCES. Defective as the present Confederation has been proved to be, this principle appears to have been fully recognized by the framers of it; though they have not made proper or adequate provision for its exercise. Congress have an unlimited discretion to make requisitions of men and money; to govern the army and navy; to direct their operations. As their requisitions are made constitutionally binding upon the States, who are in fact under the most solemn obligations to furnish the supplies required of them, the intention evidently was that the United States should command whatever resources were by them judged requisite to the \"common defense and general welfare.\" It was presumed that a sense of their true interests, and a regard to the dictates of good faith, would be found sufficient pledges for the punctual performance of the duty of the members to the federal head. The experiment has, however, demonstrated that this expectation was illfounded and illusory; and the observations, made under the last head, will, I imagine, have sufficed to convince the impartial and discerning, that there is an absolute necessity for an entire change in the first principles of the system; that if we are in earnest about giving the Union energy and duration, we must abandon the vain project of legislating upon the States in their collective capacities; we must extend the laws of the federal government to the individual citizens of America; we must discard the fallacious scheme of quotas and requisitions, as equally impracticable and unjust. The result from all this is that the Union ought to be invested with full power to levy troops; to build and equip fleets; and to raise the revenues which will be required for the formation and support of an army and navy, in the customary and ordinary modes practiced in other governments. If the circumstances of our country are such as to demand a compound instead of a simple, a confederate instead of a sole, government, the essential point which will remain to be adjusted will be to discriminate the OBJECTS, as far as it can be done, which shall appertain to the different provinces or departments of power; allowing to each the most ample authority for fulfilling the objects committed to its charge. Shall the Union be constituted the guardian of the common safety? Are fleets and armies and revenues necessary to this purpose? The government of the Union must be empowered to pass all laws, and to make all regulations which have relation to them. The same must be the case in respect to commerce, and to every other matter to which its jurisdiction is permitted to extend. Is the administration of justice between the citizens of the same State the proper department of the local governments? These must possess all the authorities which are connected with this object, and with every other that may be allotted to their particular cognizance and direction. Not to confer in each case a degree of power commensurate to the end, would be to violate the most obvious rules of prudence and propriety, and improvidently to trust the great interests of the nation to hands which are disabled from managing them with vigor and success. Who is likely to make suitable provisions for the public defense, as that body to which the guardianship of the public safety is confided; which, as the centre of information, will best understand the extent and urgency of the dangers that threaten; as the representative of the WHOLE, will feel itself most deeply interested in the preservation of every part; which, from the responsibility implied in the duty assigned to it, will be most sensibly impressed with the necessity of proper exertions; and which, by the extension of its authority throughout the States, can alone establish uniformity and concert in the plans and measures by which the common safety is to be secured? Is there not a manifest inconsistency in devolving upon the federal government the care of the general defense, and leaving in the State governments the EFFECTIVE powers by which it is to be provided for? Is not a want of cooperation the infallible consequence of such a system? And will not weakness, disorder, an undue distribution of the burdens and calamities of war, an unnecessary and intolerable increase of expense, be its natural and inevitable concomitants? Have we not had unequivocal experience of its effects in the course of the revolution which we have just accomplished? Every view we may take of the subject, as candid inquirers after truth, will serve to convince us, that it is both unwise and dangerous to deny the federal government an unconfined authority, as to all those objects which are intrusted to its management. It will indeed deserve the most vigilant and careful attention of the people, to see that it be modeled in such a manner as to admit of its being safely vested with the requisite powers. If any plan which has been, or may be, offered to our consideration, should not, upon a dispassionate inspection, be found to answer this description, it ought to be rejected. A government, the constitution of which renders it unfit to be trusted with all the powers which a free people ought to delegate to any government, would be an unsafe and improper depositary of the NATIONAL INTERESTS. Wherever THESE can with propriety be confided, the coincident powers may safely accompany them. This is the true result of all just reasoning upon the subject. And the adversaries of the plan promulgated by the convention ought to have confined themselves to showing, that the internal structure of the proposed government was such as to render it unworthy of the confidence of the people. They ought not to have wandered into inflammatory declamations and unmeaning cavils about the extent of the powers. The POWERS are not too extensive for the OBJECTS of federal administration, or, in other words, for the management of our NATIONAL INTERESTS; nor can any satisfactory argument be framed to show that they are chargeable with such an excess. If it be true, as has been insinuated by some of the writers on the other side, that the difficulty arises from the nature of the thing, and that the extent of the country will not permit us to form a government in which such ample powers can safely be reposed, it would prove that we ought to contract our views, and resort to the expedient of separate confederacies, which will move within more practicable spheres. For the absurdity must continually stare us in the face of confiding to a government the direction of the most essential national interests, without daring to trust it to the authorities which are indispensable to their proper and efficient management. Let us not attempt to reconcile contradictions, but firmly embrace a rational alternative. I trust, however, that the impracticability of one general system cannot be shown. I am greatly mistaken, if any thing of weight has yet been advanced of this tendency; and I flatter myself, that the observations which have been made in the course of these papers have served to place the reverse of that position in as clear a light as any matter still in the womb of time and experience can be susceptible of. This, at all events, must be evident, that the very difficulty itself, drawn from the extent of the country, is the strongest argument in favor of an energetic government; for any other can certainly never preserve the Union of so large an empire. If we embrace the tenets of those who oppose the adoption of the proposed Constitution, as the standard of our political creed, we cannot fail to verify the gloomy doctrines which predict the impracticability of a national system pervading entire limits of the present Confederacy. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 24 The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, December 19, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: TO THE powers proposed to be conferred upon the federal government, in respect to the creation and direction of the national forces, I have met with but one specific objection, which, if I understand it right, is this, that proper provision has not been made against the existence of standing armies in time of peace; an objection which, I shall now endeavor to show, rests on weak and unsubstantial foundations. It has indeed been brought forward in the most vague and general form, supported only by bold assertions, without the appearance of argument; without even the sanction of theoretical opinions; in contradiction to the practice of other free nations, and to the general sense of America, as expressed in most of the existing constitutions. The proprietary of this remark will appear, the moment it is recollected that the objection under consideration turns upon a supposed necessity of restraining the LEGISLATIVE authority of the nation, in the article of military establishments; a principle unheard of, except in one or two of our State constitutions, and rejected in all the rest. A stranger to our politics, who was to read our newspapers at the present juncture, without having previously inspected the plan reported by the convention, would be naturally led to one of two conclusions: either that it contained a positive injunction, that standing armies should be kept up in time of peace; or that it vested in the EXECUTIVE the whole power of levying troops, without subjecting his discretion, in any shape, to the control of the legislature. If he came afterwards to peruse the plan itself, he would be surprised to discover, that neither the one nor the other was the case; that the whole power of raising armies was lodged in the LEGISLATURE, not in the EXECUTIVE; that this legislature was to be a popular body, consisting of the representatives of the people periodically elected; and that instead of the provision he had supposed in favor of standing armies, there was to be found, in respect to this object, an important qualification even of the legislative discretion, in that clause which forbids the appropriation of money for the support of an army for any longer period than two years a precaution which, upon a nearer view of it, will appear to be a great and real security against the keeping up of troops without evident necessity. Disappointed in his first surmise, the person I have supposed would be apt to pursue his conjectures a little further. He would naturally say to himself, it is impossible that all this vehement and pathetic declamation can be without some colorable pretext. It must needs be that this people, so jealous of their liberties, have, in all the preceding models of the constitutions which they have established, inserted the most precise and rigid precautions on this point, the omission of which, in the new plan, has given birth to all this apprehension and clamor. If, under this impression, he proceeded to pass in review the several State constitutions, how great would be his disappointment to find that TWO ONLY of them(1) contained an interdiction of standing armies in time of peace; that the other eleven had either observed a profound silence on the subject, or had in express terms admitted the right of the Legislature to authorize their existence. Still, however he would be persuaded that there must be some plausible foundation for the cry raised on this head. He would never be able to imagine, while any source of information remained unexplored, that it was nothing more than an experiment upon the public credulity, dictated either by a deliberate intention to deceive, or by the overflowings of a zeal too intemperate to be ingenuous. It would probably occur to him, that he would be likely to find the precautions he was in search of in the primitive compact between the States. Here, at length, he would expect to meet with a solution of the enigma. No doubt, he would observe to himself, the existing Confederation must contain the most explicit provisions against military establishments in time of peace; and a departure from this model, in a favorite point, has occasioned the discontent which appears to influence these political champions. If he should now apply himself to a careful and critical survey of the articles of Confederation, his astonishment would not only be increased, but would acquire a mixture of indignation, at the unexpected discovery, that these articles, instead of containing the prohibition he looked for, and though they had, with jealous circumspection, restricted the authority of the State legislatures in this particular, had not imposed a single restraint on that of the United States. If he happened to be a man of quick sensibility, or ardent temper, he could now no longer refrain from regarding these clamors as the dishonest artifices of a sinister and unprincipled opposition to a plan which ought at least to receive a fair and candid examination from all sincere lovers of their country! How else, he would say, could the authors of them have been tempted to vent such loud censures upon that plan, about a point in which it seems to have conformed itself to the general sense of America as declared in its different forms of government, and in which it has even superadded a new and powerful guard unknown to any of them? If, on the contrary, he happened to be a man of calm and dispassionate feelings, he would indulge a sigh for the frailty of human nature, and would lament, that in a matter so interesting to the happiness of millions, the true merits of the question should be perplexed and entangled by expedients so unfriendly to an impartial and right determination. Even such a man could hardly forbear remarking, that a conduct of this kind has too much the appearance of an intention to mislead the people by alarming their passions, rather than to convince them by arguments addressed to their understandings. But however little this objection may be countenanced, even by precedents among ourselves, it may be satisfactory to take a nearer view of its intrinsic merits. From a close examination it will appear that restraints upon the discretion of the legislature in respect to military establishments in time of peace, would be improper to be imposed, and if imposed, from the necessities of society, would be unlikely to be observed. Though a wide ocean separates the United States from Europe, yet there are various considerations that warn us against an excess of confidence or security. On one side of us, and stretching far into our rear, are growing settlements subject to the dominion of Britain. On the other side, and extending to meet the British settlements, are colonies and establishments subject to the dominion of Spain. This situation and the vicinity of the West India Islands, belonging to these two powers create between them, in respect to their American possessions and in relation to us, a common interest. The savage tribes on our Western frontier ought to be regarded as our natural enemies, their natural allies, because they have most to fear from us, and most to hope from them. The improvements in the art of navigation have, as to the facility of communication, rendered distant nations, in a great measure, neighbors. Britain and Spain are among the principal maritime powers of Europe. A future concert of views between these nations ought not to be regarded as improbable. The increasing remoteness of consanguinity is every day diminishing the force of the family compact between France and Spain. And politicians have ever with great reason considered the ties of blood as feeble and precarious links of political connection. These circumstances combined, admonish us not to be too sanguine in considering ourselves as entirely out of the reach of danger. Previous to the Revolution, and ever since the peace, there has been a constant necessity for keeping small garrisons on our Western frontier. No person can doubt that these will continue to be indispensable, if it should only be against the ravages and depredations of the Indians. These garrisons must either be furnished by occasional detachments from the militia, or by permanent corps in the pay of the government. The first is impracticable; and if practicable, would be pernicious. The militia would not long, if at all, submit to be dragged from their occupations and families to perform that most disagreeable duty in times of profound peace. And if they could be prevailed upon or compelled to do it, the increased expense of a frequent rotation of service, and the loss of labor and disconcertion of the industrious pursuits of individuals, would form conclusive objections to the scheme. It would be as burdensome and injurious to the public as ruinous to private citizens. The latter resource of permanent corps in the pay of the government amounts to a standing army in time of peace; a small one, indeed, but not the less real for being small. Here is a simple view of the subject, that shows us at once the impropriety of a constitutional interdiction of such establishments, and the necessity of leaving the matter to the discretion and prudence of the legislature. In proportion to our increase in strength, it is probable, nay, it may be said certain, that Britain and Spain would augment their military establishments in our neighborhood. If we should not be willing to be exposed, in a naked and defenseless condition, to their insults and encroachments, we should find it expedient to increase our frontier garrisons in some ratio to the force by which our Western settlements might be annoyed. There are, and will be, particular posts, the possession of which will include the command of large districts of territory, and facilitate future invasions of the remainder. It may be added that some of those posts will be keys to the trade with the Indian nations. Can any man think it would be wise to leave such posts in a situation to be at any instant seized by one or the other of two neighboring and formidable powers? To act this part would be to desert all the usual maxims of prudence and policy. If we mean to be a commercial people, or even to be secure on our Atlantic side, we must endeavor, as soon as possible, to have a navy. To this purpose there must be dockyards and arsenals; and for the defense of these, fortifications, and probably garrisons. When a nation has become so powerful by sea that it can protect its dockyards by its fleets, this supersedes the necessity of garrisons for that purpose; but where naval establishments are in their infancy, moderate garrisons will, in all likelihood, be found an indispensable security against descents for the destruction of the arsenals and dockyards, and sometimes of the fleet itself. PUBLIUS 1 This statement of the matter is taken from the printed collection of State constitutions. Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the two which contain the interdiction in these words: \"As standing armies in time of peace are dangerous to liberty, THEY OUGHT NOT to be kept up.\" This is, in truth, rather a CAUTION than a PROHIBITION. New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Delaware, and Maryland have, in each of their bills of rights, a clause to this effect: \"Standing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be raised or kept up WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE\"; which is a formal admission of the authority of the Legislature. New York has no bills of rights, and her constitution says not a word about the matter. No bills of rights appear annexed to the constitutions of the other States, except the foregoing, and their constitutions are equally silent. I am told, however that one or two States have bills of rights which do not appear in this collection; but that those also recognize the right of the legislative authority in this respect. FEDERALIST No. 25 The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered) From the New York Packet. Friday, December 21, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT MAY perhaps be urged that the objects enumerated in the preceding number ought to be provided for by the State governments, under the direction of the Union. But this would be, in reality, an inversion of the primary principle of our political association, as it would in practice transfer the care of the common defense from the federal head to the individual members: a project oppressive to some States, dangerous to all, and baneful to the Confederacy. The territories of Britain, Spain, and of the Indian nations in our neighborhood do not border on particular States, but encircle the Union from Maine to Georgia. The danger, though in different degrees, is therefore common. And the means of guarding against it ought, in like manner, to be the objects of common councils and of a common treasury. It happens that some States, from local situation, are more directly exposed. New York is of this class. Upon the plan of separate provisions, New York would have to sustain the whole weight of the establishments requisite to her immediate safety, and to the mediate or ultimate protection of her neighbors. This would neither be equitable as it respected New York nor safe as it respected the other States. Various inconveniences would attend such a system. The States, to whose lot it might fall to support the necessary establishments, would be as little able as willing, for a considerable time to come, to bear the burden of competent provisions. The security of all would thus be subjected to the parsimony, improvidence, or inability of a part. If the resources of such part becoming more abundant and extensive, its provisions should be proportionally enlarged, the other States would quickly take the alarm at seeing the whole military force of the Union in the hands of two or three of its members, and those probably amongst the most powerful. They would each choose to have some counterpoise, and pretenses could easily be contrived. In this situation, military establishments, nourished by mutual jealousy, would be apt to swell beyond their natural or proper size; and being at the separate disposal of the members, they would be engines for the abridgment or demolition of the national authority. Reasons have been already given to induce a supposition that the State governments will too naturally be prone to a rivalship with that of the Union, the foundation of which will be the love of power; and that in any contest between the federal head and one of its members the people will be most apt to unite with their local government. If, in addition to this immense advantage, the ambition of the members should be stimulated by the separate and independent possession of military forces, it would afford too strong a temptation and too great a facility to them to make enterprises upon, and finally to subvert, the constitutional authority of the Union. On the other hand, the liberty of the people would be less safe in this state of things than in that which left the national forces in the hands of the national government. As far as an army may be considered as a dangerous weapon of power, it had better be in those hands of which the people are most likely to be jealous than in those of which they are least likely to be jealous. For it is a truth, which the experience of ages has attested, that the people are always most in danger when the means of injuring their rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the least suspicion. The framers of the existing Confederation, fully aware of the danger to the Union from the separate possession of military forces by the States, have, in express terms, prohibited them from having either ships or troops, unless with the consent of Congress. The truth is, that the existence of a federal government and military establishments under State authority are not less at variance with each other than a due supply of the federal treasury and the system of quotas and requisitions. There are other lights besides those already taken notice of, in which the impropriety of restraints on the discretion of the national legislature will be equally manifest. The design of the objection, which has been mentioned, is to preclude standing armies in time of peace, though we have never been informed how far it is designed the prohibition should extend; whether to raising armies as well as to KEEPING THEM UP in a season of tranquillity or not. If it be confined to the latter it will have no precise signification, and it will be ineffectual for the purpose intended. When armies are once raised what shall be denominated \"keeping them up,\" contrary to the sense of the Constitution? What time shall be requisite to ascertain the violation? Shall it be a week, a month, a year? Or shall we say they may be continued as long as the danger which occasioned their being raised continues? This would be to admit that they might be kept up IN TIME OF PEACE, against threatening or impending danger, which would be at once to deviate from the literal meaning of the prohibition, and to introduce an extensive latitude of construction. Who shall judge of the continuance of the danger? This must undoubtedly be submitted to the national government, and the matter would then be brought to this issue, that the national government, to provide against apprehended danger, might in the first instance raise troops, and might afterwards keep them on foot as long as they supposed the peace or safety of the community was in any degree of jeopardy. It is easy to perceive that a discretion so latitudinary as this would afford ample room for eluding the force of the provision. The supposed utility of a provision of this kind can only be founded on the supposed probability, or at least possibility, of a combination between the executive and the legislative, in some scheme of usurpation. Should this at any time happen, how easy would it be to fabricate pretenses of approaching danger! Indian hostilities, instigated by Spain or Britain, would always be at hand. Provocations to produce the desired appearances might even be given to some foreign power, and appeased again by timely concessions. If we can reasonably presume such a combination to have been formed, and that the enterprise is warranted by a sufficient prospect of success, the army, when once raised, from whatever cause, or on whatever pretext, may be applied to the execution of the project. If, to obviate this consequence, it should be resolved to extend the prohibition to the RAISING of armies in time of peace, the United States would then exhibit the most extraordinary spectacle which the world has yet seen, that of a nation incapacitated by its Constitution to prepare for defense, before it was actually invaded. As the ceremony of a formal denunciation of war has of late fallen into disuse, the presence of an enemy within our territories must be waited for, as the legal warrant to the government to begin its levies of men for the protection of the State. We must receive the blow, before we could even prepare to return it. All that kind of policy by which nations anticipate distant danger, and meet the gathering storm, must be abstained from, as contrary to the genuine maxims of a free government. We must expose our property and liberty to the mercy of foreign invaders, and invite them by our weakness to seize the naked and defenseless prey, because we are afraid that rulers, created by our choice, dependent on our will, might endanger that liberty, by an abuse of the means necessary to its preservation. Here I expect we shall be told that the militia of the country is its natural bulwark, and would be at all times equal to the national defense. This doctrine, in substance, had like to have lost us our independence. It cost millions to the United States that might have been saved. The facts which, from our own experience, forbid a reliance of this kind, are too recent to permit us to be the dupes of such a suggestion. The steady operations of war against a regular and disciplined army can only be successfully conducted by a force of the same kind. Considerations of economy, not less than of stability and vigor, confirm this position. The American militia, in the course of the late war, have, by their valor on numerous occasions, erected eternal monuments to their fame; but the bravest of them feel and know that the liberty of their country could not have been established by their efforts alone, however great and valuable they were. War, like most other things, is a science to be acquired and perfected by diligence, by perseverance, by time, and by practice. All violent policy, as it is contrary to the natural and experienced course of human affairs, defeats itself. Pennsylvania, at this instant, affords an example of the truth of this remark. The Bill of Rights of that State declares that standing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be kept up in time of peace. Pennsylvania, nevertheless, in a time of profound peace, from the existence of partial disorders in one or two of her counties, has resolved to raise a body of troops; and in all probability will keep them up as long as there is any appearance of danger to the public peace. The conduct of Massachusetts affords a lesson on the same subject, though on different ground. That State (without waiting for the sanction of Congress, as the articles of the Confederation require) was compelled to raise troops to quell a domestic insurrection, and still keeps a corps in pay to prevent a revival of the spirit of revolt. The particular constitution of Massachusetts opposed no obstacle to the measure; but the instance is still of use to instruct us that cases are likely to occur under our government, as well as under those of other nations, which will sometimes render a military force in time of peace essential to the security of the society, and that it is therefore improper in this respect to control the legislative discretion. It also teaches us, in its application to the United States, how little the rights of a feeble government are likely to be respected, even by its own constituents. And it teaches us, in addition to the rest, how unequal parchment provisions are to a struggle with public necessity. It was a fundamental maxim of the Lacedaemonian commonwealth, that the post of admiral should not be conferred twice on the same person. The Peloponnesian confederates, having suffered a severe defeat at sea from the Athenians, demanded Lysander, who had before served with success in that capacity, to command the combined fleets. The Lacedaemonians, to gratify their allies, and yet preserve the semblance of an adherence to their ancient institutions, had recourse to the flimsy subterfuge of investing Lysander with the real power of admiral, under the nominal title of viceadmiral. This instance is selected from among a multitude that might be cited to confirm the truth already advanced and illustrated by domestic examples; which is, that nations pay little regard to rules and maxims calculated in their very nature to run counter to the necessities of society. Wise politicians will be cautious about fettering the government with restrictions that cannot be observed, because they know that every breach of the fundamental laws, though dictated by necessity, impairs that sacred reverence which ought to be maintained in the breast of rulers towards the constitution of a country, and forms a precedent for other breaches where the same plea of necessity does not exist at all, or is less urgent and palpable. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 26 The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered. For the Independent Journal. Saturday, December 22, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT WAS a thing hardly to be expected that in a popular revolution the minds of men should stop at that happy mean which marks the salutary boundary between POWER and PRIVILEGE, and combines the energy of government with the security of private rights. A failure in this delicate and important point is the great source of the inconveniences we experience, and if we are not cautious to avoid a repetition of the error, in our future attempts to rectify and ameliorate our system, we may travel from one chimerical project to another; we may try change after change; but we shall never be likely to make any material change for the better. The idea of restraining the legislative authority, in the means of providing for the national defense, is one of those refinements which owe their origin to a zeal for liberty more ardent than enlightened. We have seen, however, that it has not had thus far an extensive prevalency; that even in this country, where it made its first appearance, Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the only two States by which it has been in any degree patronized; and that all the others have refused to give it the least countenance; wisely judging that confidence must be placed somewhere; that the necessity of doing it, is implied in the very act of delegating power; and that it is better to hazard the abuse of that confidence than to embarrass the government and endanger the public safety by impolitic restrictions on the legislative authority. The opponents of the proposed Constitution combat, in this respect, the general decision of America; and instead of being taught by experience the propriety of correcting any extremes into which we may have heretofore run, they appear disposed to conduct us into others still more dangerous, and more extravagant. As if the tone of government had been found too high, or too rigid, the doctrines they teach are calculated to induce us to depress or to relax it, by expedients which, upon other occasions, have been condemned or forborne. It may be affirmed without the imputation of invective, that if the principles they inculcate, on various points, could so far obtain as to become the popular creed, they would utterly unfit the people of this country for any species of government whatever. But a danger of this kind is not to be apprehended. The citizens of America have too much discernment to be argued into anarchy. And I am much mistaken, if experience has not wrought a deep and solemn conviction in the public mind, that greater energy of government is essential to the welfare and prosperity of the community. It may not be amiss in this place concisely to remark the origin and progress of the idea, which aims at the exclusion of military establishments in time of peace. Though in speculative minds it may arise from a contemplation of the nature and tendency of such institutions, fortified by the events that have happened in other ages and countries, yet as a national sentiment, it must be traced to those habits of thinking which we derive from the nation from whom the inhabitants of these States have in general sprung. In England, for a long time after the Norman Conquest, the authority of the monarch was almost unlimited. Inroads were gradually made upon the prerogative, in favor of liberty, first by the barons, and afterwards by the people, till the greatest part of its most formidable pretensions became extinct. But it was not till the revolution in 1688, which elevated the Prince of Orange to the throne of Great Britain, that English liberty was completely triumphant. As incident to the undefined power of making war, an acknowledged prerogative of the crown, Charles II. had, by his own authority, kept on foot in time of peace a body of 5,000 regular troops. And this number James II. increased to 30,000; who were paid out of his civil list. At the revolution, to abolish the exercise of so dangerous an authority, it became an article of the Bill of Rights then framed, that \"the raising or keeping a standing army within the kingdom in time of peace, UNLESS WITH THE CONSENT OF PARLIAMENT, was against law.\" In that kingdom, when the pulse of liberty was at its highest pitch, no security against the danger of standing armies was thought requisite, beyond a prohibition of their being raised or kept up by the mere authority of the executive magistrate. The patriots, who effected that memorable revolution, were too temperate, too wellinformed, to think of any restraint on the legislative discretion. They were aware that a certain number of troops for guards and garrisons were indispensable; that no precise bounds could be set to the national exigencies; that a power equal to every possible contingency must exist somewhere in the government: and that when they referred the exercise of that power to the judgment of the legislature, they had arrived at the ultimate point of precaution which was reconcilable with the safety of the community. From the same source, the people of America may be said to have derived an hereditary impression of danger to liberty, from standing armies in time of peace. The circumstances of a revolution quickened the public sensibility on every point connected with the security of popular rights, and in some instances raise the warmth of our zeal beyond the degree which consisted with the due temperature of the body politic. The attempts of two of the States to restrict the authority of the legislature in the article of military establishments, are of the number of these instances. The principles which had taught us to be jealous of the power of an hereditary monarch were by an injudicious excess extended to the representatives of the people in their popular assemblies. Even in some of the States, where this error was not adopted, we find unnecessary declarations that standing armies ought not to be kept up, in time of peace, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE. I call them unnecessary, because the reason which had introduced a similar provision into the English Bill of Rights is not applicable to any of the State constitutions. The power of raising armies at all, under those constitutions, can by no construction be deemed to reside anywhere else, than in the legislatures themselves; and it was superfluous, if not absurd, to declare that a matter should not be done without the consent of a body, which alone had the power of doing it. Accordingly, in some of these constitutions, and among others, in that of this State of New York, which has been justly celebrated, both in Europe and America, as one of the best of the forms of government established in this country, there is a total silence upon the subject. It is remarkable, that even in the two States which seem to have meditated an interdiction of military establishments in time of peace, the mode of expression made use of is rather cautionary than prohibitory. It is not said, that standing armies SHALL NOT BE kept up, but that they OUGHT NOT to be kept up, in time of peace. This ambiguity of terms appears to have been the result of a conflict between jealousy and conviction; between the desire of excluding such establishments at all events, and the persuasion that an absolute exclusion would be unwise and unsafe. Can it be doubted that such a provision, whenever the situation of public affairs was understood to require a departure from it, would be interpreted by the legislature into a mere admonition, and would be made to yield to the necessities or supposed necessities of the State? Let the fact already mentioned, with respect to Pennsylvania, decide. What then (it may be asked) is the use of such a provision, if it cease to operate the moment there is an inclination to disregard it? Let us examine whether there be any comparison, in point of efficacy, between the provision alluded to and that which is contained in the new Constitution, for restraining the appropriations of money for military purposes to the period of two years. The former, by aiming at too much, is calculated to effect nothing; the latter, by steering clear of an imprudent extreme, and by being perfectly compatible with a proper provision for the exigencies of the nation, will have a salutary and powerful operation. The legislature of the United States will be OBLIGED, by this provision, once at least in every two years, to deliberate upon the propriety of keeping a military force on foot; to come to a new resolution on the point; and to declare their sense of the matter, by a formal vote in the face of their constituents. They are not AT LIBERTY to vest in the executive department permanent funds for the support of an army, if they were even incautious enough to be willing to repose in it so improper a confidence. As the spirit of party, in different degrees, must be expected to infect all political bodies, there will be, no doubt, persons in the national legislature willing enough to arraign the measures and criminate the views of the majority. The provision for the support of a military force will always be a favorable topic for declamation. As often as the question comes forward, the public attention will be roused and attracted to the subject, by the party in opposition; and if the majority should be really disposed to exceed the proper limits, the community will be warned of the danger, and will have an opportunity of taking measures to guard against it. Independent of parties in the national legislature itself, as often as the period of discussion arrived, the State legislatures, who will always be not only vigilant but suspicious and jealous guardians of the rights of the citizens against encroachments from the federal government, will constantly have their attention awake to the conduct of the national rulers, and will be ready enough, if any thing improper appears, to sound the alarm to the people, and not only to be the VOICE, but, if necessary, the ARM of their discontent. Schemes to subvert the liberties of a great community REQUIRE TIME to mature them for execution. An army, so large as seriously to menace those liberties, could only be formed by progressive augmentations; which would suppose, not merely a temporary combination between the legislature and executive, but a continued conspiracy for a series of time. Is it probable that such a combination would exist at all? Is it probable that it would be persevered in, and transmitted along through all the successive variations in a representative body, which biennial elections would naturally produce in both houses? Is it presumable, that every man, the instant he took his seat in the national Senate or House of Representatives, would commence a traitor to his constituents and to his country? Can it be supposed that there would not be found one man, discerning enough to detect so atrocious a conspiracy, or bold or honest enough to apprise his constituents of their danger? If such presumptions can fairly be made, there ought at once to be an end of all delegated authority. The people should resolve to recall all the powers they have heretofore parted with out of their own hands, and to divide themselves into as many States as there are counties, in order that they may be able to manage their own concerns in person. If such suppositions could even be reasonably made, still the concealment of the design, for any duration, would be impracticable. It would be announced, by the very circumstance of augmenting the army to so great an extent in time of profound peace. What colorable reason could be assigned, in a country so situated, for such vast augmentations of the military force? It is impossible that the people could be long deceived; and the destruction of the project, and of the projectors, would quickly follow the discovery. It has been said that the provision which limits the appropriation of money for the support of an army to the period of two years would be unavailing, because the Executive, when once possessed of a force large enough to awe the people into submission, would find resources in that very force sufficient to enable him to dispense with supplies from the acts of the legislature. But the question again recurs, upon what pretense could he be put in possession of a force of that magnitude in time of peace? If we suppose it to have been created in consequence of some domestic insurrection or foreign war, then it becomes a case not within the principles of the objection; for this is levelled against the power of keeping up troops in time of peace. Few persons will be so visionary as seriously to contend that military forces ought not to be raised to quell a rebellion or resist an invasion; and if the defense of the community under such circumstances should make it necessary to have an army so numerous as to hazard its liberty, this is one of those calamities for which there is neither preventative nor cure. It cannot be provided against by any possible form of government; it might even result from a simple league offensive and defensive, if it should ever be necessary for the confederates or allies to form an army for common defense. But it is an evil infinitely less likely to attend us in a united than in a disunited state; nay, it may be safely asserted that it is an evil altogether unlikely to attend us in the latter situation. It is not easy to conceive a possibility that dangers so formidable can assail the whole Union, as to demand a force considerable enough to place our liberties in the least jeopardy, especially if we take into our view the aid to be derived from the militia, which ought always to be counted upon as a valuable and powerful auxiliary. But in a state of disunion (as has been fully shown in another place), the contrary of this supposition would become not only probable, but almost unavoidable. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 27 The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, December 25, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT HAS been urged, in different shapes, that a Constitution of the kind proposed by the convention cannot operate without the aid of a military force to execute its laws. This, however, like most other things that have been alleged on that side, rests on mere general assertion, unsupported by any precise or intelligible designation of the reasons upon which it is founded. As far as I have been able to divine the latent meaning of the objectors, it seems to originate in a presupposition that the people will be disinclined to the exercise of federal authority in any matter of an internal nature. Waiving any exception that might be taken to the inaccuracy or inexplicitness of the distinction between internal and external, let us inquire what ground there is to presuppose that disinclination in the people. Unless we presume at the same time that the powers of the general government will be worse administered than those of the State government, there seems to be no room for the presumption of illwill, disaffection, or opposition in the people. I believe it may be laid down as a general rule that their confidence in and obedience to a government will commonly be proportioned to the goodness or badness of its administration. It must be admitted that there are exceptions to this rule; but these exceptions depend so entirely on accidental causes, that they cannot be considered as having any relation to the intrinsic merits or demerits of a constitution. These can only be judged of by general principles and maxims. Various reasons have been suggested, in the course of these papers, to induce a probability that the general government will be better administered than the particular governments; the principal of which reasons are that the extension of the spheres of election will present a greater option, or latitude of choice, to the people; that through the medium of the State legislatures which are select bodies of men, and which are to appoint the members of the national Senate there is reason to expect that this branch will generally be composed with peculiar care and judgment; that these circumstances promise greater knowledge and more extensive information in the national councils, and that they will be less apt to be tainted by the spirit of faction, and more out of the reach of those occasional illhumors, or temporary prejudices and propensities, which, in smaller societies, frequently contaminate the public councils, beget injustice and oppression of a part of the community, and engender schemes which, though they gratify a momentary inclination or desire, terminate in general distress, dissatisfaction, and disgust. Several additional reasons of considerable force, to fortify that probability, will occur when we come to survey, with a more critical eye, the interior structure of the edifice which we are invited to erect. It will be sufficient here to remark, that until satisfactory reasons can be assigned to justify an opinion, that the federal government is likely to be administered in such a manner as to render it odious or contemptible to the people, there can be no reasonable foundation for the supposition that the laws of the Union will meet with any greater obstruction from them, or will stand in need of any other methods to enforce their execution, than the laws of the particular members. The hope of impunity is a strong incitement to sedition; the dread of punishment, a proportionably strong discouragement to it. Will not the government of the Union, which, if possessed of a due degree of power, can call to its aid the collective resources of the whole Confederacy, be more likely to repress the FORMER sentiment and to inspire the LATTER, than that of a single State, which can only command the resources within itself? A turbulent faction in a State may easily suppose itself able to contend with the friends to the government in that State; but it can hardly be so infatuated as to imagine itself a match for the combined efforts of the Union. If this reflection be just, there is less danger of resistance from irregular combinations of individuals to the authority of the Confederacy than to that of a single member. I will, in this place, hazard an observation, which will not be the less just because to some it may appear new; which is, that the more the operations of the national authority are intermingled in the ordinary exercise of government, the more the citizens are accustomed to meet with it in the common occurrences of their political life, the more it is familiarized to their sight and to their feelings, the further it enters into those objects which touch the most sensible chords and put in motion the most active springs of the human heart, the greater will be the probability that it will conciliate the respect and attachment of the community. Man is very much a creature of habit. A thing that rarely strikes his senses will generally have but little influence upon his mind. A government continually at a distance and out of sight can hardly be expected to interest the sensations of the people. The inference is, that the authority of the Union, and the affections of the citizens towards it, will be strengthened, rather than weakened, by its extension to what are called matters of internal concern; and will have less occasion to recur to force, in proportion to the familiarity and comprehensiveness of its agency. The more it circulates through those channels and currents in which the passions of mankind naturally flow, the less will it require the aid of the violent and perilous expedients of compulsion. One thing, at all events, must be evident, that a government like the one proposed would bid much fairer to avoid the necessity of using force, than that species of league contend for by most of its opponents; the authority of which should only operate upon the States in their political or collective capacities. It has been shown that in such a Confederacy there can be no sanction for the laws but force; that frequent delinquencies in the members are the natural offspring of the very frame of the government; and that as often as these happen, they can only be redressed, if at all, by war and violence. The plan reported by the convention, by extending the authority of the federal head to the individual citizens of the several States, will enable the government to employ the ordinary magistracy of each, in the execution of its laws. It is easy to perceive that this will tend to destroy, in the common apprehension, all distinction between the sources from which they might proceed; and will give the federal government the same advantage for securing a due obedience to its authority which is enjoyed by the government of each State, in addition to the influence on public opinion which will result from the important consideration of its having power to call to its assistance and support the resources of the whole Union. It merits particular attention in this place, that the laws of the Confederacy, as to the ENUMERATED and LEGITIMATE objects of its jurisdiction, will become the SUPREME LAW of the land; to the observance of which all officers, legislative, executive, and judicial, in each State, will be bound by the sanctity of an oath. Thus the legislatures, courts, and magistrates, of the respective members, will be incorporated into the operations of the national government AS FAR AS ITS JUST AND CONSTITUTIONAL AUTHORITY EXTENDS; and will be rendered auxiliary to the enforcement of its laws.(1) Any man who will pursue, by his own reflections, the consequences of this situation, will perceive that there is good ground to calculate upon a regular and peaceable execution of the laws of the Union, if its powers are administered with a common share of prudence. If we will arbitrarily suppose the contrary, we may deduce any inferences we please from the supposition; for it is certainly possible, by an injudicious exercise of the authorities of the best government that ever was, or ever can be instituted, to provoke and precipitate the people into the wildest excesses. But though the adversaries of the proposed Constitution should presume that the national rulers would be insensible to the motives of public good, or to the obligations of duty, I would still ask them how the interests of ambition, or the views of encroachment, can be promoted by such a conduct? PUBLIUS 1. The sophistry which has been employed to show that this will tend to the destruction of the State governments, will, in its will, in its proper place, be fully detected. FEDERALIST No. 28 The Same Subject Continued (The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the Common Defense Considered) For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, December 26, 1787 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THAT there may happen cases in which the national government may be necessitated to resort to force, cannot be denied. Our own experience has corroborated the lessons taught by the examples of other nations; that emergencies of this sort will sometimes arise in all societies, however constituted; that seditions and insurrections are, unhappily, maladies as inseparable from the body politic as tumors and eruptions from the natural body; that the idea of governing at all times by the simple force of law (which we have been told is the only admissible principle of republican government), has no place but in the reveries of those political doctors whose sagacity disdains the admonitions of experimental instruction. Should such emergencies at any time happen under the national government, there could be no remedy but force. The means to be employed must be proportioned to the extent of the mischief. If it should be a slight commotion in a small part of a State, the militia of the residue would be adequate to its suppression; and the national presumption is that they would be ready to do their duty. An insurrection, whatever may be its immediate cause, eventually endangers all government. Regard to the public peace, if not to the rights of the Union, would engage the citizens to whom the contagion had not communicated itself to oppose the insurgents; and if the general government should be found in practice conducive to the prosperity and felicity of the people, it were irrational to believe that they would be disinclined to its support. If, on the contrary, the insurrection should pervade a whole State, or a principal part of it, the employment of a different kind of force might become unavoidable. It appears that Massachusetts found it necessary to raise troops for repressing the disorders within that State; that Pennsylvania, from the mere apprehension of commotions among a part of her citizens, has thought proper to have recourse to the same measure. Suppose the State of New York had been inclined to reestablish her lost jurisdiction over the inhabitants of Vermont, could she have hoped for success in such an enterprise from the efforts of the militia alone? Would she not have been compelled to raise and to maintain a more regular force for the execution of her design? If it must then be admitted that the necessity of recurring to a force different from the militia, in cases of this extraordinary nature, is applicable to the State governments themselves, why should the possibility, that the national government might be under a like necessity, in similar extremities, be made an objection to its existence? Is it not surprising that men who declare an attachment to the Union in the abstract, should urge as an objection to the proposed Constitution what applies with tenfold weight to the plan for which they contend; and what, as far as it has any foundation in truth, is an inevitable consequence of civil society upon an enlarged scale? Who would not prefer that possibility to the unceasing agitations and frequent revolutions which are the continual scourges of petty republics? Let us pursue this examination in another light. Suppose, in lieu of one general system, two, or three, or even four Confederacies were to be formed, would not the same difficulty oppose itself to the operations of either of these Confederacies? Would not each of them be exposed to the same casualties; and when these happened, be obliged to have recourse to the same expedients for upholding its authority which are objected to in a government for all the States? Would the militia, in this supposition, be more ready or more able to support the federal authority than in the case of a general union? All candid and intelligent men must, upon due consideration, acknowledge that the principle of the objection is equally applicable to either of the two cases; and that whether we have one government for all the States, or different governments for different parcels of them, or even if there should be an entire separation of the States, there might sometimes be a necessity to make use of a force constituted differently from the militia, to preserve the peace of the community and to maintain the just authority of the laws against those violent invasions of them which amount to insurrections and rebellions. Independent of all other reasonings upon the subject, it is a full answer to those who require a more peremptory provision against military establishments in time of peace, to say that the whole power of the proposed government is to be in the hands of the representatives of the people. This is the essential, and, after all, only efficacious security for the rights and privileges of the people, which is attainable in civil society.(1) If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, there is then no resource left but in the exertion of that original right of selfdefense which is paramount to all positive forms of government, and which against the usurpations of the national rulers, may be exerted with infinitely better prospect of success than against those of the rulers of an individual state. In a single state, if the persons intrusted with supreme power become usurpers, the different parcels, subdivisions, or districts of which it consists, having no distinct government in each, can take no regular measures for defense. The citizens must rush tumultuously to arms, without concert, without system, without resource; except in their courage and despair. The usurpers, clothed with the forms of legal authority, can too often crush the opposition in embryo. The smaller the extent of the territory, the more difficult will it be for the people to form a regular or systematic plan of opposition, and the more easy will it be to defeat their early efforts. Intelligence can be more speedily obtained of their preparations and movements, and the military force in the possession of the usurpers can be more rapidly directed against the part where the opposition has begun. In this situation there must be a peculiar coincidence of circumstances to insure success to the popular resistance. The obstacles to usurpation and the facilities of resistance increase with the increased extent of the state, provided the citizens understand their rights and are disposed to defend them. The natural strength of the people in a large community, in proportion to the artificial strength of the government, is greater than in a small, and of course more competent to a struggle with the attempts of the government to establish a tyranny. But in a confederacy the people, without exaggeration, may be said to be entirely the masters of their own fate. Power being almost always the rival of power, the general government will at all times stand ready to check the usurpations of the state governments, and these will have the same disposition towards the general government. The people, by throwing themselves into either scale, will infallibly make it preponderate. If their rights are invaded by either, they can make use of the other as the instrument of redress. How wise will it be in them by cherishing the union to preserve to themselves an advantage which can never be too highly prized! It may safely be received as an axiom in our political system, that the State governments will, in all possible contingencies, afford complete security against invasions of the public liberty by the national authority. Projects of usurpation cannot be masked under pretenses so likely to escape the penetration of select bodies of men, as of the people at large. The legislatures will have better means of information. They can discover the danger at a distance; and possessing all the organs of civil power, and the confidence of the people, they can at once adopt a regular plan of opposition, in which they can combine all the resources of the community. They can readily communicate with each other in the different States, and unite their common forces for the protection of their common liberty. The great extent of the country is a further security. We have already experienced its utility against the attacks of a foreign power. And it would have precisely the same effect against the enterprises of ambitious rulers in the national councils. If the federal army should be able to quell the resistance of one State, the distant States would have it in their power to make head with fresh forces. The advantages obtained in one place must be abandoned to subdue the opposition in others; and the moment the part which had been reduced to submission was left to itself, its efforts would be renewed, and its resistance revive. We should recollect that the extent of the military force must, at all events, be regulated by the resources of the country. For a long time to come, it will not be possible to maintain a large army; and as the means of doing this increase, the population and natural strength of the community will proportionably increase. When will the time arrive that the federal government can raise and maintain an army capable of erecting a despotism over the great body of the people of an immense empire, who are in a situation, through the medium of their State governments, to take measures for their own defense, with all the celerity, regularity, and system of independent nations? The apprehension may be considered as a disease, for which there can be found no cure in the resources of argument and reasoning. PUBLIUS 1. Its full efficacy will be examined hereafter. FEDERALIST No. 29 Concerning the Militia From the New York Packet. Wednesday, January 9, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE power of regulating the militia, and of commanding its services in times of insurrection and invasion are natural incidents to the duties of superintending the common defense, and of watching over the internal peace of the Confederacy. It requires no skill in the science of war to discern that uniformity in the organization and discipline of the militia would be attended with the most beneficial effects, whenever they were called into service for the public defense. It would enable them to discharge the duties of the camp and of the field with mutual intelligence and concert an advantage of peculiar moment in the operations of an army; and it would fit them much sooner to acquire the degree of proficiency in military functions which would be essential to their usefulness. This desirable uniformity can only be accomplished by confiding the regulation of the militia to the direction of the national authority. It is, therefore, with the most evident propriety, that the plan of the convention proposes to empower the Union \"to provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the militia, and for governing such part of them as may be employed in the service of the United States, RESERVING TO THE STATES RESPECTIVELY THE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS, AND THE AUTHORITY OF TRAINING THE MILITIA ACCORDING TO THE DISCIPLINE PRESCRIBED BY CONGRESS.\" Of the different grounds which have been taken in opposition to the plan of the convention, there is none that was so little to have been expected, or is so untenable in itself, as the one from which this particular provision has been attacked. If a wellregulated militia be the most natural defense of a free country, it ought certainly to be under the regulation and at the disposal of that body which is constituted the guardian of the national security. If standing armies are dangerous to liberty, an efficacious power over the militia, in the body to whose care the protection of the State is committed, ought, as far as possible, to take away the inducement and the pretext to such unfriendly institutions. If the federal government can command the aid of the militia in those emergencies which call for the military arm in support of the civil magistrate, it can the better dispense with the employment of a different kind of force. If it cannot avail itself of the former, it will be obliged to recur to the latter. To render an army unnecessary, will be a more certain method of preventing its existence than a thousand prohibitions upon paper. In order to cast an odium upon the power of calling forth the militia to execute the laws of the Union, it has been remarked that there is nowhere any provision in the proposed Constitution for calling out the POSSE COMITATUS, to assist the magistrate in the execution of his duty, whence it has been inferred, that military force was intended to be his only auxiliary. There is a striking incoherence in the objections which have appeared, and sometimes even from the same quarter, not much calculated to inspire a very favorable opinion of the sincerity or fair dealing of their authors. The same persons who tell us in one breath, that the powers of the federal government will be despotic and unlimited, inform us in the next, that it has not authority sufficient even to call out the POSSE COMITATUS. The latter, fortunately, is as much short of the truth as the former exceeds it. It would be as absurd to doubt, that a right to pass all laws NECESSARY AND PROPER to execute its declared powers, would include that of requiring the assistance of the citizens to the officers who may be intrusted with the execution of those laws, as it would be to believe, that a right to enact laws necessary and proper for the imposition and collection of taxes would involve that of varying the rules of descent and of the alienation of landed property, or of abolishing the trial by jury in cases relating to it. It being therefore evident that the supposition of a want of power to require the aid of the POSSE COMITATUS is entirely destitute of color, it will follow, that the conclusion which has been drawn from it, in its application to the authority of the federal government over the militia, is as uncandid as it is illogical. What reason could there be to infer, that force was intended to be the sole instrument of authority, merely because there is a power to make use of it when necessary? What shall we think of the motives which could induce men of sense to reason in this manner? How shall we prevent a conflict between charity and conviction? By a curious refinement upon the spirit of republican jealousy, we are even taught to apprehend danger from the militia itself, in the hands of the federal government. It is observed that select corps may be formed, composed of the young and ardent, who may be rendered subservient to the views of arbitrary power. What plan for the regulation of the militia may be pursued by the national government, is impossible to be foreseen. But so far from viewing the matter in the same light with those who object to select corps as dangerous, were the Constitution ratified, and were I to deliver my sentiments to a member of the federal legislature from this State on the subject of a militia establishment, I should hold to him, in substance, the following discourse: \"The project of disciplining all the militia of the United States is as futile as it would be injurious, if it were capable of being carried into execution. A tolerable expertness in military movements is a business that requires time and practice. It is not a day, or even a week, that will suffice for the attainment of it. To oblige the great body of the yeomanry, and of the other classes of the citizens, to be under arms for the purpose of going through military exercises and evolutions, as often as might be necessary to acquire the degree of perfection which would entitle them to the character of a wellregulated militia, would be a real grievance to the people, and a serious public inconvenience and loss. It would form an annual deduction from the productive labor of the country, to an amount which, calculating upon the present numbers of the people, would not fall far short of the whole expense of the civil establishments of all the States. To attempt a thing which would abridge the mass of labor and industry to so considerable an extent, would be unwise: and the experiment, if made, could not succeed, because it would not long be endured. Little more can reasonably be aimed at, with respect to the people at large, than to have them properly armed and equipped; and in order to see that this be not neglected, it will be necessary to assemble them once or twice in the course of a year. \"But though the scheme of disciplining the whole nation must be abandoned as mischievous or impracticable; yet it is a matter of the utmost importance that a welldigested plan should, as soon as possible, be adopted for the proper establishment of the militia. The attention of the government ought particularly to be directed to the formation of a select corps of moderate extent, upon such principles as will really fit them for service in case of need. By thus circumscribing the plan, it will be possible to have an excellent body of welltrained militia, ready to take the field whenever the defense of the State shall require it. This will not only lessen the call for military establishments, but if circumstances should at any time oblige the government to form an army of any magnitude that army can never be formidable to the liberties of the people while there is a large body of citizens, little, if at all, inferior to them in discipline and the use of arms, who stand ready to defend their own rights and those of their fellowcitizens. This appears to me the only substitute that can be devised for a standing army, and the best possible security against it, if it should exist.\" Thus differently from the adversaries of the proposed Constitution should I reason on the same subject, deducing arguments of safety from the very sources which they represent as fraught with danger and perdition. But how the national legislature may reason on the point, is a thing which neither they nor I can foresee. There is something so farfetched and so extravagant in the idea of danger to liberty from the militia, that one is at a loss whether to treat it with gravity or with raillery; whether to consider it as a mere trial of skill, like the paradoxes of rhetoricians; as a disingenuous artifice to instil prejudices at any price; or as the serious offspring of political fanaticism. Where in the name of commonsense, are our fears to end if we may not trust our sons, our brothers, our neighbors, our fellowcitizens? What shadow of danger can there be from men who are daily mingling with the rest of their countrymen and who participate with them in the same feelings, sentiments, habits and interests? What reasonable cause of apprehension can be inferred from a power in the Union to prescribe regulations for the militia, and to command its services when necessary, while the particular States are to have the SOLE AND EXCLUSIVE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS? If it were possible seriously to indulge a jealousy of the militia upon any conceivable establishment under the federal government, the circumstance of the officers being in the appointment of the States ought at once to extinguish it. There can be no doubt that this circumstance will always secure to them a preponderating influence over the militia. In reading many of the publications against the Constitution, a man is apt to imagine that he is perusing some illwritten tale or romance, which instead of natural and agreeable images, exhibits to the mind nothing but frightful and distorted shapes \"Gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire\"; discoloring and disfiguring whatever it represents, and transforming everything it touches into a monster. A sample of this is to be observed in the exaggerated and improbable suggestions which have taken place respecting the power of calling for the services of the militia. That of New Hampshire is to be marched to Georgia, of Georgia to New Hampshire, of New York to Kentucky, and of Kentucky to Lake Champlain. Nay, the debts due to the French and Dutch are to be paid in militiamen instead of louis d'ors and ducats. At one moment there is to be a large army to lay prostrate the liberties of the people; at another moment the militia of Virginia are to be dragged from their homes five or six hundred miles, to tame the republican contumacy of Massachusetts; and that of Massachusetts is to be transported an equal distance to subdue the refractory haughtiness of the aristocratic Virginians. Do the persons who rave at this rate imagine that their art or their eloquence can impose any conceits or absurdities upon the people of America for infallible truths? If there should be an army to be made use of as the engine of despotism, what need of the militia? If there should be no army, whither would the militia, irritated by being called upon to undertake a distant and hopeless expedition, for the purpose of riveting the chains of slavery upon a part of their countrymen, direct their course, but to the seat of the tyrants, who had meditated so foolish as well as so wicked a project, to crush them in their imagined intrenchments of power, and to make them an example of the just vengeance of an abused and incensed people? Is this the way in which usurpers stride to dominion over a numerous and enlightened nation? Do they begin by exciting the detestation of the very instruments of their intended usurpations? Do they usually commence their career by wanton and disgustful acts of power, calculated to answer no end, but to draw upon themselves universal hatred and execration? Are suppositions of this sort the sober admonitions of discerning patriots to a discerning people? Or are they the inflammatory ravings of incendiaries or distempered enthusiasts? If we were even to suppose the national rulers actuated by the most ungovernable ambition, it is impossible to believe that they would employ such preposterous means to accomplish their designs. In times of insurrection, or invasion, it would be natural and proper that the militia of a neighboring State should be marched into another, to resist a common enemy, or to guard the republic against the violence of faction or sedition. This was frequently the case, in respect to the first object, in the course of the late war; and this mutual succor is, indeed, a principal end of our political association. If the power of affording it be placed under the direction of the Union, there will be no danger of a supine and listless inattention to the dangers of a neighbor, till its near approach had superadded the incitements of selfpreservation to the too feeble impulses of duty and sympathy. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 30 Concerning the General Power of Taxation From the New York Packet. Friday, December 28, 1787. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT HAS been already observed that the federal government ought to possess the power of providing for the support of the national forces; in which proposition was intended to be included the expense of raising troops, of building and equipping fleets, and all other expenses in any wise connected with military arrangements and operations. But these are not the only objects to which the jurisdiction of the Union, in respect to revenue, must necessarily be empowered to extend. It must embrace a provision for the support of the national civil list; for the payment of the national debts contracted, or that may be contracted; and, in general, for all those matters which will call for disbursements out of the national treasury. The conclusion is, that there must be interwoven, in the frame of the government, a general power of taxation, in one shape or another. Money is, with propriety, considered as the vital principle of the body politic; as that which sustains its life and motion, and enables it to perform its most essential functions. A complete power, therefore, to procure a regular and adequate supply of it, as far as the resources of the community will permit, may be regarded as an indispensable ingredient in every constitution. From a deficiency in this particular, one of two evils must ensue; either the people must be subjected to continual plunder, as a substitute for a more eligible mode of supplying the public wants, or the government must sink into a fatal atrophy, and, in a short course of time, perish. In the Ottoman or Turkish empire, the sovereign, though in other respects absolute master of the lives and fortunes of his subjects, has no right to impose a new tax. The consequence is that he permits the bashaws or governors of provinces to pillage the people without mercy; and, in turn, squeezes out of them the sums of which he stands in need, to satisfy his own exigencies and those of the state. In America, from a like cause, the government of the Union has gradually dwindled into a state of decay, approaching nearly to annihilation. Who can doubt, that the happiness of the people in both countries would be promoted by competent authorities in the proper hands, to provide the revenues which the necessities of the public might require? The present Confederation, feeble as it is intended to repose in the United States, an unlimited power of providing for the pecuniary wants of the Union. But proceeding upon an erroneous principle, it has been done in such a manner as entirely to have frustrated the intention. Congress, by the articles which compose that compact (as has already been stated), are authorized to ascertain and call for any sums of money necessary, in their judgment, to the service of the United States; and their requisitions, if conformable to the rule of apportionment, are in every constitutional sense obligatory upon the States. These have no right to question the propriety of the demand; no discretion beyond that of devising the ways and means of furnishing the sums demanded. But though this be strictly and truly the case; though the assumption of such a right would be an infringement of the articles of Union; though it may seldom or never have been avowedly claimed, yet in practice it has been constantly exercised, and would continue to be so, as long as the revenues of the Confederacy should remain dependent on the intermediate agency of its members. What the consequences of this system have been, is within the knowledge of every man the least conversant in our public affairs, and has been amply unfolded in different parts of these inquiries. It is this which has chiefly contributed to reduce us to a situation, which affords ample cause both of mortification to ourselves, and of triumph to our enemies. What remedy can there be for this situation, but in a change of the system which has produced it in a change of the fallacious and delusive system of quotas and requisitions? What substitute can there be imagined for this ignis fatuus in finance, but that of permitting the national government to raise its own revenues by the ordinary methods of taxation authorized in every wellordered constitution of civil government? Ingenious men may declaim with plausibility on any subject; but no human ingenuity can point out any other expedient to rescue us from the inconveniences and embarrassments naturally resulting from defective supplies of the public treasury. The more intelligent adversaries of the new Constitution admit the force of this reasoning; but they qualify their admission by a distinction between what they call INTERNAL and EXTERNAL taxation. The former they would reserve to the State governments; the latter, which they explain into commercial imposts, or rather duties on imported articles, they declare themselves willing to concede to the federal head. This distinction, however, would violate the maxim of good sense and sound policy, which dictates that every POWER ought to be in proportion to its OBJECT; and would still leave the general government in a kind of tutelage to the State governments, inconsistent with every idea of vigor or efficiency. Who can pretend that commercial imposts are, or would be, alone equal to the present and future exigencies of the Union? Taking into the account the existing debt, foreign and domestic, upon any plan of extinguishment which a man moderately impressed with the importance of public justice and public credit could approve, in addition to the establishments which all parties will acknowledge to be necessary, we could not reasonably flatter ourselves, that this resource alone, upon the most improved scale, would even suffice for its present necessities. Its future necessities admit not of calculation or limitation; and upon the principle, more than once adverted to, the power of making provision for them as they arise ought to be equally unconfined. I believe it may be regarded as a position warranted by the history of mankind, that, IN THE USUAL PROGRESS OF THINGS, THE NECESSITIES OF A NATION, IN EVERY STAGE OF ITS EXISTENCE, WILL BE FOUND AT LEAST EQUAL TO ITS RESOURCES. To say that deficiencies may be provided for by requisitions upon the States, is on the one hand to acknowledge that this system cannot be depended upon, and on the other hand to depend upon it for every thing beyond a certain limit. Those who have carefully attended to its vices and deformities as they have been exhibited by experience or delineated in the course of these papers, must feel invincible repugnancy to trusting the national interests in any degree to its operation. Its inevitable tendency, whenever it is brought into activity, must be to enfeeble the Union, and sow the seeds of discord and contention between the federal head and its members, and between the members themselves. Can it be expected that the deficiencies would be better supplied in this mode than the total wants of the Union have heretofore been supplied in the same mode? It ought to be recollected that if less will be required from the States, they will have proportionably less means to answer the demand. If the opinions of those who contend for the distinction which has been mentioned were to be received as evidence of truth, one would be led to conclude that there was some known point in the economy of national affairs at which it would be safe to stop and to say: Thus far the ends of public happiness will be promoted by supplying the wants of government, and all beyond this is unworthy of our care or anxiety. How is it possible that a government half supplied and always necessitous, can fulfill the purposes of its institution, can provide for the security, advance the prosperity, or support the reputation of the commonwealth? How can it ever possess either energy or stability, dignity or credit, confidence at home or respectability abroad? How can its administration be any thing else than a succession of expedients temporizing, impotent, disgraceful? How will it be able to avoid a frequent sacrifice of its engagements to immediate necessity? How can it undertake or execute any liberal or enlarged plans of public good? Let us attend to what would be the effects of this situation in the very first war in which we should happen to be engaged. We will presume, for argument's sake, that the revenue arising from the impost duties answers the purposes of a provision for the public debt and of a peace establishment for the Union. Thus circumstanced, a war breaks out. What would be the probable conduct of the government in such an emergency? Taught by experience that proper dependence could not be placed on the success of requisitions, unable by its own authority to lay hold of fresh resources, and urged by considerations of national danger, would it not be driven to the expedient of diverting the funds already appropriated from their proper objects to the defense of the State? It is not easy to see how a step of this kind could be avoided; and if it should be taken, it is evident that it would prove the destruction of public credit at the very moment that it was becoming essential to the public safety. To imagine that at such a crisis credit might be dispensed with, would be the extreme of infatuation. In the modern system of war, nations the most wealthy are obliged to have recourse to large loans. A country so little opulent as ours must feel this necessity in a much stronger degree. But who would lend to a government that prefaced its overtures for borrowing by an act which demonstrated that no reliance could be placed on the steadiness of its measures for paying? The loans it might be able to procure would be as limited in their extent as burdensome in their conditions. They would be made upon the same principles that usurers commonly lend to bankrupt and fraudulent debtors, with a sparing hand and at enormous premiums. It may perhaps be imagined that, from the scantiness of the resources of the country, the necessity of diverting the established funds in the case supposed would exist, though the national government should possess an unrestrained power of taxation. But two considerations will serve to quiet all apprehension on this head: one is, that we are sure the resources of the community, in their full extent, will be brought into activity for the benefit of the Union; the other is, that whatever deficiences there may be, can without difficulty be supplied by loans. The power of creating new funds upon new objects of taxation, by its own authority, would enable the national government to borrow as far as its necessities might require. Foreigners, as well as the citizens of America, could then reasonably repose confidence in its engagements; but to depend upon a government that must itself depend upon thirteen other governments for the means of fulfilling its contracts, when once its situation is clearly understood, would require a degree of credulity not often to be met with in the pecuniary transactions of mankind, and little reconcilable with the usual sharpsightedness of avarice. Reflections of this kind may have trifling weight with men who hope to see realized in America the halcyon scenes of the poetic or fabulous age; but to those who believe we are likely to experience a common portion of the vicissitudes and calamities which have fallen to the lot of other nations, they must appear entitled to serious attention. Such men must behold the actual situation of their country with painful solicitude, and deprecate the evils which ambition or revenge might, with too much facility, inflict upon it. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 31 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 1, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IN DISQUISITIONS of every kind, there are certain primary truths, or first principles, upon which all subsequent reasonings must depend. These contain an internal evidence which, antecedent to all reflection or combination, commands the assent of the mind. Where it produces not this effect, it must proceed either from some defect or disorder in the organs of perception, or from the influence of some strong interest, or passion, or prejudice. Of this nature are the maxims in geometry, that \"the whole is greater than its part; things equal to the same are equal to one another; two straight lines cannot enclose a space; and all right angles are equal to each other.\" Of the same nature are these other maxims in ethics and politics, that there cannot be an effect without a cause; that the means ought to be proportioned to the end; that every power ought to be commensurate with its object; that there ought to be no limitation of a power destined to effect a purpose which is itself incapable of limitation. And there are other truths in the two latter sciences which, if they cannot pretend to rank in the class of axioms, are yet such direct inferences from them, and so obvious in themselves, and so agreeable to the natural and unsophisticated dictates of commonsense, that they challenge the assent of a sound and unbiased mind, with a degree of force and conviction almost equally irresistible. The objects of geometrical inquiry are so entirely abstracted from those pursuits which stir up and put in motion the unruly passions of the human heart, that mankind, without difficulty, adopt not only the more simple theorems of the science, but even those abstruse paradoxes which, however they may appear susceptible of demonstration, are at variance with the natural conceptions which the mind, without the aid of philosophy, would be led to entertain upon the subject. The INFINITE DIVISIBILITY of matter, or, in other words, the INFINITE divisibility of a FINITE thing, extending even to the minutest atom, is a point agreed among geometricians, though not less incomprehensible to commonsense than any of those mysteries in religion, against which the batteries of infidelity have been so industriously leveled. But in the sciences of morals and politics, men are found far less tractable. To a certain degree, it is right and useful that this should be the case. Caution and investigation are a necessary armor against error and imposition. But this untractableness may be carried too far, and may degenerate into obstinacy, perverseness, or disingenuity. Though it cannot be pretended that the principles of moral and political knowledge have, in general, the same degree of certainty with those of the mathematics, yet they have much better claims in this respect than, to judge from the conduct of men in particular situations, we should be disposed to allow them. The obscurity is much oftener in the passions and prejudices of the reasoner than in the subject. Men, upon too many occasions, do not give their own understandings fair play; but, yielding to some untoward bias, they entangle themselves in words and confound themselves in subtleties. How else could it happen (if we admit the objectors to be sincere in their opposition), that positions so clear as those which manifest the necessity of a general power of taxation in the government of the Union, should have to encounter any adversaries among men of discernment? Though these positions have been elsewhere fully stated, they will perhaps not be improperly recapitulated in this place, as introductory to an examination of what may have been offered by way of objection to them. They are in substance as follows: A government ought to contain in itself every power requisite to the full accomplishment of the objects committed to its care, and to the complete execution of the trusts for which it is responsible, free from every other control but a regard to the public good and to the sense of the people. As the duties of superintending the national defense and of securing the public peace against foreign or domestic violence involve a provision for casualties and dangers to which no possible limits can be assigned, the power of making that provision ought to know no other bounds than the exigencies of the nation and the resources of the community. As revenue is the essential engine by which the means of answering the national exigencies must be procured, the power of procuring that article in its full extent must necessarily be comprehended in that of providing for those exigencies. As theory and practice conspire to prove that the power of procuring revenue is unavailing when exercised over the States in their collective capacities, the federal government must of necessity be invested with an unqualified power of taxation in the ordinary modes. Did not experience evince the contrary, it would be natural to conclude that the propriety of a general power of taxation in the national government might safely be permitted to rest on the evidence of these propositions, unassisted by any additional arguments or illustrations. But we find, in fact, that the antagonists of the proposed Constitution, so far from acquiescing in their justness or truth, seem to make their principal and most zealous effort against this part of the plan. It may therefore be satisfactory to analyze the arguments with which they combat it. Those of them which have been most labored with that view, seem in substance to amount to this: \"It is not true, because the exigencies of the Union may not be susceptible of limitation, that its power of laying taxes ought to be unconfined. Revenue is as requisite to the purposes of the local administrations as to those of the Union; and the former are at least of equal importance with the latter to the happiness of the people. It is, therefore, as necessary that the State governments should be able to command the means of supplying their wants, as that the national government should possess the like faculty in respect to the wants of the Union. But an indefinite power of taxation in the LATTER might, and probably would in time, deprive the FORMER of the means of providing for their own necessities; and would subject them entirely to the mercy of the national legislature. As the laws of the Union are to become the supreme law of the land, as it is to have power to pass all laws that may be NECESSARY for carrying into execution the authorities with which it is proposed to vest it, the national government might at any time abolish the taxes imposed for State objects upon the pretense of an interference with its own. It might allege a necessity of doing this in order to give efficacy to the national revenues. And thus all the resources of taxation might by degrees become the subjects of federal monopoly, to the entire exclusion and destruction of the State governments.\" This mode of reasoning appears sometimes to turn upon the supposition of usurpation in the national government; at other times it seems to be designed only as a deduction from the constitutional operation of its intended powers. It is only in the latter light that it can be admitted to have any pretensions to fairness. The moment we launch into conjectures about the usurpations of the federal government, we get into an unfathomable abyss, and fairly put ourselves out of the reach of all reasoning. Imagination may range at pleasure till it gets bewildered amidst the labyrinths of an enchanted castle, and knows not on which side to turn to extricate itself from the perplexities into which it has so rashly adventured. Whatever may be the limits or modifications of the powers of the Union, it is easy to imagine an endless train of possible dangers; and by indulging an excess of jealousy and timidity, we may bring ourselves to a state of absolute scepticism and irresolution. I repeat here what I have observed in substance in another place, that all observations founded upon the danger of usurpation ought to be referred to the composition and structure of the government, not to the nature or extent of its powers. The State governments, by their original constitutions, are invested with complete sovereignty. In what does our security consist against usurpation from that quarter? Doubtless in the manner of their formation, and in a due dependence of those who are to administer them upon the people. If the proposed construction of the federal government be found, upon an impartial examination of it, to be such as to afford, to a proper extent, the same species of security, all apprehensions on the score of usurpation ought to be discarded. It should not be forgotten that a disposition in the State governments to encroach upon the rights of the Union is quite as probable as a disposition in the Union to encroach upon the rights of the State governments. What side would be likely to prevail in such a conflict, must depend on the means which the contending parties could employ toward insuring success. As in republics strength is always on the side of the people, and as there are weighty reasons to induce a belief that the State governments will commonly possess most influence over them, the natural conclusion is that such contests will be most apt to end to the disadvantage of the Union; and that there is greater probability of encroachments by the members upon the federal head, than by the federal head upon the members. But it is evident that all conjectures of this kind must be extremely vague and fallible: and that it is by far the safest course to lay them altogether aside, and to confine our attention wholly to the nature and extent of the powers as they are delineated in the Constitution. Every thing beyond this must be left to the prudence and firmness of the people; who, as they will hold the scales in their own hands, it is to be hoped, will always take care to preserve the constitutional equilibrium between the general and the State governments. Upon this ground, which is evidently the true one, it will not be difficult to obviate the objections which have been made to an indefinite power of taxation in the United States. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 32 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, January 2, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: ALTHOUGH I am of opinion that there would be no real danger of the consequences which seem to be apprehended to the State governments from a power in the Union to control them in the levies of money, because I am persuaded that the sense of the people, the extreme hazard of provoking the resentments of the State governments, and a conviction of the utility and necessity of local administrations for local purposes, would be a complete barrier against the oppressive use of such a power; yet I am willing here to allow, in its full extent, the justness of the reasoning which requires that the individual States should possess an independent and uncontrollable authority to raise their own revenues for the supply of their own wants. And making this concession, I affirm that (with the sole exception of duties on imports and exports) they would, under the plan of the convention, retain that authority in the most absolute and unqualified sense; and that an attempt on the part of the national government to abridge them in the exercise of it, would be a violent assumption of power, unwarranted by any article or clause of its Constitution. An entire consolidation of the States into one complete national sovereignty would imply an entire subordination of the parts; and whatever powers might remain in them, would be altogether dependent on the general will. But as the plan of the convention aims only at a partial union or consolidation, the State governments would clearly retain all the rights of sovereignty which they before had, and which were not, by that act, EXCLUSIVELY delegated to the United States. This exclusive delegation, or rather this alienation, of State sovereignty, would only exist in three cases: where the Constitution in express terms granted an exclusive authority to the Union; where it granted in one instance an authority to the Union, and in another prohibited the States from exercising the like authority; and where it granted an authority to the Union, to which a similar authority in the States would be absolutely and totally CONTRADICTORY and REPUGNANT. I use these terms to distinguish this last case from another which might appear to resemble it, but which would, in fact, be essentially different; I mean where the exercise of a concurrent jurisdiction might be productive of occasional interferences in the POLICY of any branch of administration, but would not imply any direct contradiction or repugnancy in point of constitutional authority. These three cases of exclusive jurisdiction in the federal government may be exemplified by the following instances: The last clause but one in the eighth section of the first article provides expressly that Congress shall exercise \"EXCLUSIVE LEGISLATION\" over the district to be appropriated as the seat of government. This answers to the first case. The first clause of the same section empowers Congress \"to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts and excises\"; and the second clause of the tenth section of the same article declares that, \"NO STATE SHALL, without the consent of Congress, lay any imposts or duties on imports or exports, except for the purpose of executing its inspection laws.\" Hence would result an exclusive power in the Union to lay duties on imports and exports, with the particular exception mentioned; but this power is abridged by another clause, which declares that no tax or duty shall be laid on articles exported from any State; in consequence of which qualification, it now only extends to the DUTIES ON IMPORTS. This answers to the second case. The third will be found in that clause which declares that Congress shall have power \"to establish an UNIFORM RULE of naturalization throughout the United States.\" This must necessarily be exclusive; because if each State had power to prescribe a DISTINCT RULE, there could not be a UNIFORM RULE. A case which may perhaps be thought to resemble the latter, but which is in fact widely different, affects the question immediately under consideration. I mean the power of imposing taxes on all articles other than exports and imports. This, I contend, is manifestly a concurrent and coequal authority in the United States and in the individual States. There is plainly no expression in the granting clause which makes that power EXCLUSIVE in the Union. There is no independent clause or sentence which prohibits the States from exercising it. So far is this from being the case, that a plain and conclusive argument to the contrary is to be deduced from the restraint laid upon the States in relation to duties on imports and exports. This restriction implies an admission that, if it were not inserted, the States would possess the power it excludes; and it implies a further admission, that as to all other taxes, the authority of the States remains undiminished. In any other view it would be both unnecessary and dangerous; it would be unnecessary, because if the grant to the Union of the power of laying such duties implied the exclusion of the States, or even their subordination in this particular, there could be no need of such a restriction; it would be dangerous, because the introduction of it leads directly to the conclusion which has been mentioned, and which, if the reasoning of the objectors be just, could not have been intended; I mean that the States, in all cases to which the restriction did not apply, would have a concurrent power of taxation with the Union. The restriction in question amounts to what lawyers call a NEGATIVE PREGNANT that is, a NEGATION of one thing, and an AFFIRMANCE of another; a negation of the authority of the States to impose taxes on imports and exports, and an affirmance of their authority to impose them on all other articles. It would be mere sophistry to argue that it was meant to exclude them ABSOLUTELY from the imposition of taxes of the former kind, and to leave them at liberty to lay others SUBJECT TO THE CONTROL of the national legislature. The restraining or prohibitory clause only says, that they shall not, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF CONGRESS, lay such duties; and if we are to understand this in the sense last mentioned, the Constitution would then be made to introduce a formal provision for the sake of a very absurd conclusion; which is, that the States, WITH THE CONSENT of the national legislature, might tax imports and exports; and that they might tax every other article, UNLESS CONTROLLED by the same body. If this was the intention, why not leave it, in the first instance, to what is alleged to be the natural operation of the original clause, conferring a general power of taxation upon the Union? It is evident that this could not have been the intention, and that it will not bear a construction of the kind. As to a supposition of repugnancy between the power of taxation in the States and in the Union, it cannot be supported in that sense which would be requisite to work an exclusion of the States. It is, indeed, possible that a tax might be laid on a particular article by a State which might render it INEXPEDIENT that thus a further tax should be laid on the same article by the Union; but it would not imply a constitutional inability to impose a further tax. The quantity of the imposition, the expediency or inexpediency of an increase on either side, would be mutually questions of prudence; but there would be involved no direct contradiction of power. The particular policy of the national and of the State systems of finance might now and then not exactly coincide, and might require reciprocal forbearances. It is not, however a mere possibility of inconvenience in the exercise of powers, but an immediate constitutional repugnancy that can by implication alienate and extinguish a preexisting right of sovereignty. The necessity of a concurrent jurisdiction in certain cases results from the division of the sovereign power; and the rule that all authorities, of which the States are not explicitly divested in favor of the Union, remain with them in full vigor, is not a theoretical consequence of that division, but is clearly admitted by the whole tenor of the instrument which contains the articles of the proposed Constitution. We there find that, notwithstanding the affirmative grants of general authorities, there has been the most pointed care in those cases where it was deemed improper that the like authorities should reside in the States, to insert negative clauses prohibiting the exercise of them by the States. The tenth section of the first article consists altogether of such provisions. This circumstance is a clear indication of the sense of the convention, and furnishes a rule of interpretation out of the body of the act, which justifies the position I have advanced and refutes every hypothesis to the contrary. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 33 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, January 2, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE residue of the argument against the provisions of the Constitution in respect to taxation is ingrafted upon the following clause. The last clause of the eighth section of the first article of the plan under consideration authorizes the national legislature \"to make all laws which shall be NECESSARY and PROPER for carrying into execution THE POWERS by that Constitution vested in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof\"; and the second clause of the sixth article declares, \"that the Constitution and the laws of the United States made IN PURSUANCE THEREOF, and the treaties made by their authority shall be the SUPREME LAW of the land, any thing in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.\" These two clauses have been the source of much virulent invective and petulant declamation against the proposed Constitution. They have been held up to the people in all the exaggerated colors of misrepresentation as the pernicious engines by which their local governments were to be destroyed and their liberties exterminated; as the hideous monster whose devouring jaws would spare neither sex nor age, nor high nor low, nor sacred nor profane; and yet, strange as it may appear, after all this clamor, to those who may not have happened to contemplate them in the same light, it may be affirmed with perfect confidence that the constitutional operation of the intended government would be precisely the same, if these clauses were entirely obliterated, as if they were repeated in every article. They are only declaratory of a truth which would have resulted by necessary and unavoidable implication from the very act of constituting a federal government, and vesting it with certain specified powers. This is so clear a proposition, that moderation itself can scarcely listen to the railings which have been so copiously vented against this part of the plan, without emotions that disturb its equanimity. What is a power, but the ability or faculty of doing a thing? What is the ability to do a thing, but the power of employing the MEANS necessary to its execution? What is a LEGISLATIVE power, but a power of making LAWS? What are the MEANS to execute a LEGISLATIVE power but LAWS? What is the power of laying and collecting taxes, but a LEGISLATIVE POWER, or a power of MAKING LAWS, to lay and collect taxes? What are the proper means of executing such a power, but NECESSARY and PROPER laws? This simple train of inquiry furnishes us at once with a test by which to judge of the true nature of the clause complained of. It conducts us to this palpable truth, that a power to lay and collect taxes must be a power to pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER for the execution of that power; and what does the unfortunate and calumniated provision in question do more than declare the same truth, to wit, that the national legislature, to whom the power of laying and collecting taxes had been previously given, might, in the execution of that power, pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER to carry it into effect? I have applied these observations thus particularly to the power of taxation, because it is the immediate subject under consideration, and because it is the most important of the authorities proposed to be conferred upon the Union. But the same process will lead to the same result, in relation to all other powers declared in the Constitution. And it is EXPRESSLY to execute these powers that the sweeping clause, as it has been affectedly called, authorizes the national legislature to pass all NECESSARY and PROPER laws. If there is any thing exceptionable, it must be sought for in the specific powers upon which this general declaration is predicated. The declaration itself, though it may be chargeable with tautology or redundancy, is at least perfectly harmless. But SUSPICION may ask, Why then was it introduced? The answer is, that it could only have been done for greater caution, and to guard against all cavilling refinements in those who might hereafter feel a disposition to curtail and evade the legitimate authorities of the Union. The Convention probably foresaw, what it has been a principal aim of these papers to inculcate, that the danger which most threatens our political welfare is that the State governments will finally sap the foundations of the Union; and might therefore think it necessary, in so cardinal a point, to leave nothing to construction. Whatever may have been the inducement to it, the wisdom of the precaution is evident from the cry which has been raised against it; as that very cry betrays a disposition to question the great and essential truth which it is manifestly the object of that provision to declare. But it may be again asked, Who is to judge of the NECESSITY and PROPRIETY of the laws to be passed for executing the powers of the Union? I answer, first, that this question arises as well and as fully upon the simple grant of those powers as upon the declaratory clause; and I answer, in the second place, that the national government, like every other, must judge, in the first instance, of the proper exercise of its powers, and its constituents in the last. If the federal government should overpass the just bounds of its authority and make a tyrannical use of its powers, the people, whose creature it is, must appeal to the standard they have formed, and take such measures to redress the injury done to the Constitution as the exigency may suggest and prudence justify. The propriety of a law, in a constitutional light, must always be determined by the nature of the powers upon which it is founded. Suppose, by some forced constructions of its authority (which, indeed, cannot easily be imagined), the Federal legislature should attempt to vary the law of descent in any State, would it not be evident that, in making such an attempt, it had exceeded its jurisdiction, and infringed upon that of the State? Suppose, again, that upon the pretense of an interference with its revenues, it should undertake to abrogate a landtax imposed by the authority of a State; would it not be equally evident that this was an invasion of that concurrent jurisdiction in respect to this species of tax, which its Constitution plainly supposes to exist in the State governments? If there ever should be a doubt on this head, the credit of it will be entirely due to those reasoners who, in the imprudent zeal of their animosity to the plan of the convention, have labored to envelop it in a cloud calculated to obscure the plainest and simplest truths. But it is said that the laws of the Union are to be the SUPREME LAW of the land. But what inference can be drawn from this, or what would they amount to, if they were not to be supreme? It is evident they would amount to nothing. A LAW, by the very meaning of the term, includes supremacy. It is a rule which those to whom it is prescribed are bound to observe. This results from every political association. If individuals enter into a state of society, the laws of that society must be the supreme regulator of their conduct. If a number of political societies enter into a larger political society, the laws which the latter may enact, pursuant to the powers intrusted to it by its constitution, must necessarily be supreme over those societies, and the individuals of whom they are composed. It would otherwise be a mere treaty, dependent on the good faith of the parties, and not a government, which is only another word for POLITICAL POWER AND SUPREMACY. But it will not follow from this doctrine that acts of the large society which are NOT PURSUANT to its constitutional powers, but which are invasions of the residuary authorities of the smaller societies, will become the supreme law of the land. These will be merely acts of usurpation, and will deserve to be treated as such. Hence we perceive that the clause which declares the supremacy of the laws of the Union, like the one we have just before considered, only declares a truth, which flows immediately and necessarily from the institution of a federal government. It will not, I presume, have escaped observation, that it EXPRESSLY confines this supremacy to laws made PURSUANT TO THE CONSTITUTION; which I mention merely as an instance of caution in the convention; since that limitation would have been to be understood, though it had not been expressed. Though a law, therefore, laying a tax for the use of the United States would be supreme in its nature, and could not legally be opposed or controlled, yet a law for abrogating or preventing the collection of a tax laid by the authority of the State, (unless upon imports and exports), would not be the supreme law of the land, but a usurpation of power not granted by the Constitution. As far as an improper accumulation of taxes on the same object might tend to render the collection difficult or precarious, this would be a mutual inconvenience, not arising from a superiority or defect of power on either side, but from an injudicious exercise of power by one or the other, in a manner equally disadvantageous to both. It is to be hoped and presumed, however, that mutual interest would dictate a concert in this respect which would avoid any material inconvenience. The inference from the whole is, that the individual States would, under the proposed Constitution, retain an independent and uncontrollable authority to raise revenue to any extent of which they may stand in need, by every kind of taxation, except duties on imports and exports. It will be shown in the next paper that this CONCURRENT JURISDICTION in the article of taxation was the only admissible substitute for an entire subordination, in respect to this branch of power, of the State authority to that of the Union. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 34 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From The Independent Journal. Saturday, January 5, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: I FLATTER myself it has been clearly shown in my last number that the particular States, under the proposed Constitution, would have COEQUAL authority with the Union in the article of revenue, except as to duties on imports. As this leaves open to the States far the greatest part of the resources of the community, there can be no color for the assertion that they would not possess means as abundant as could be desired for the supply of their own wants, independent of all external control. That the field is sufficiently wide will more fully appear when we come to advert to the inconsiderable share of the public expenses for which it will fall to the lot of the State governments to provide. To argue upon abstract principles that this coordinate authority cannot exist, is to set up supposition and theory against fact and reality. However proper such reasonings might be to show that a thing OUGHT NOT TO EXIST, they are wholly to be rejected when they are made use of to prove that it does not exist contrary to the evidence of the fact itself. It is well known that in the Roman republic the legislative authority, in the last resort, resided for ages in two different political bodies not as branches of the same legislature, but as distinct and independent legislatures, in each of which an opposite interest prevailed: in one the patrician; in the other, the plebian. Many arguments might have been adduced to prove the unfitness of two such seemingly contradictory authorities, each having power to ANNUL or REPEAL the acts of the other. But a man would have been regarded as frantic who should have attempted at Rome to disprove their existence. It will be readily understood that I allude to the COMITIA CENTURIATA and the COMITIA TRIBUTA. The former, in which the people voted by centuries, was so arranged as to give a superiority to the patrician interest; in the latter, in which numbers prevailed, the plebian interest had an entire predominancy. And yet these two legislatures coexisted for ages, and the Roman republic attained to the utmost height of human greatness. In the case particularly under consideration, there is no such contradiction as appears in the example cited; there is no power on either side to annul the acts of the other. And in practice there is little reason to apprehend any inconvenience; because, in a short course of time, the wants of the States will naturally reduce themselves within A VERY NARROW COMPASS; and in the interim, the United States will, in all probability, find it convenient to abstain wholly from those objects to which the particular States would be inclined to resort. To form a more precise judgment of the true merits of this question, it will be well to advert to the proportion between the objects that will require a federal provision in respect to revenue, and those which will require a State provision. We shall discover that the former are altogether unlimited, and that the latter are circumscribed within very moderate bounds. In pursuing this inquiry, we must bear in mind that we are not to confine our view to the present period, but to look forward to remote futurity. Constitutions of civil government are not to be framed upon a calculation of existing exigencies, but upon a combination of these with the probable exigencies of ages, according to the natural and tried course of human affairs. Nothing, therefore, can be more fallacious than to infer the extent of any power, proper to be lodged in the national government, from an estimate of its immediate necessities. There ought to be a CAPACITY to provide for future contingencies as they may happen; and as these are illimitable in their nature, it is impossible safely to limit that capacity. It is true, perhaps, that a computation might be made with sufficient accuracy to answer the purpose of the quantity of revenue requisite to discharge the subsisting engagements of the Union, and to maintain those establishments which, for some time to come, would suffice in time of peace. But would it be wise, or would it not rather be the extreme of folly, to stop at this point, and to leave the government intrusted with the care of the national defense in a state of absolute incapacity to provide for the protection of the community against future invasions of the public peace, by foreign war or domestic convulsions? If, on the contrary, we ought to exceed this point, where can we stop, short of an indefinite power of providing for emergencies as they may arise? Though it is easy to assert, in general terms, the possibility of forming a rational judgment of a due provision against probable dangers, yet we may safely challenge those who make the assertion to bring forward their data, and may affirm that they would be found as vague and uncertain as any that could be produced to establish the probable duration of the world. Observations confined to the mere prospects of internal attacks can deserve no weight; though even these will admit of no satisfactory calculation: but if we mean to be a commercial people, it must form a part of our policy to be able one day to defend that commerce. The support of a navy and of naval wars would involve contingencies that must baffle all the efforts of political arithmetic. Admitting that we ought to try the novel and absurd experiment in politics of tying up the hands of government from offensive war founded upon reasons of state, yet certainly we ought not to disable it from guarding the community against the ambition or enmity of other nations. A cloud has been for some time hanging over the European world. If it should break forth into a storm, who can insure us that in its progress a part of its fury would not be spent upon us? No reasonable man would hastily pronounce that we are entirely out of its reach. Or if the combustible materials that now seem to be collecting should be dissipated without coming to maturity, or if a flame should be kindled without extending to us, what security can we have that our tranquillity will long remain undisturbed from some other cause or from some other quarter? Let us recollect that peace or war will not always be left to our option; that however moderate or unambitious we may be, we cannot count upon the moderation, or hope to extinguish the ambition of others. Who could have imagined at the conclusion of the last war that France and Britain, wearied and exhausted as they both were, would so soon have looked with so hostile an aspect upon each other? To judge from the history of mankind, we shall be compelled to conclude that the fiery and destructive passions of war reign in the human breast with much more powerful sway than the mild and beneficent sentiments of peace; and that to model our political systems upon speculations of lasting tranquillity, is to calculate on the weaker springs of the human character. What are the chief sources of expense in every government? What has occasioned that enormous accumulation of debts with which several of the European nations are oppressed? The answers plainly is, wars and rebellions; the support of those institutions which are necessary to guard the body politic against these two most mortal diseases of society. The expenses arising from those institutions which are relative to the mere domestic police of a state, to the support of its legislative, executive, and judicial departments, with their different appendages, and to the encouragement of agriculture and manufactures (which will comprehend almost all the objects of state expenditure), are insignificant in comparison with those which relate to the national defense. In the kingdom of Great Britain, where all the ostentatious apparatus of monarchy is to be provided for, not above a fifteenth part of the annual income of the nation is appropriated to the class of expenses last mentioned; the other fourteen fifteenths are absorbed in the payment of the interest of debts contracted for carrying on the wars in which that country has been engaged, and in the maintenance of fleets and armies. If, on the one hand, it should be observed that the expenses incurred in the prosecution of the ambitious enterprises and vainglorious pursuits of a monarchy are not a proper standard by which to judge of those which might be necessary in a republic, it ought, on the other hand, to be remarked that there should be as great a disproportion between the profusion and extravagance of a wealthy kingdom in its domestic administration, and the frugality and economy which in that particular become the modest simplicity of republican government. If we balance a proper deduction from one side against that which it is supposed ought to be made from the other, the proportion may still be considered as holding good. But let us advert to the large debt which we have ourselves contracted in a single war, and let us only calculate on a common share of the events which disturb the peace of nations, and we shall instantly perceive, without the aid of any elaborate illustration, that there must always be an immense disproportion between the objects of federal and state expenditures. It is true that several of the States, separately, are encumbered with considerable debts, which are an excrescence of the late war. But this cannot happen again, if the proposed system be adopted; and when these debts are discharged, the only call for revenue of any consequence, which the State governments will continue to experience, will be for the mere support of their respective civil list; to which, if we add all contingencies, the total amount in every State ought to fall considerably short of two hundred thousand pounds. In framing a government for posterity as well as ourselves, we ought, in those provisions which are designed to be permanent, to calculate, not on temporary, but on permanent causes of expense. If this principle be a just one our attention would be directed to a provision in favor of the State governments for an annual sum of about two hundred thousand pounds; while the exigencies of the Union could be susceptible of no limits, even in imagination. In this view of the subject, by what logic can it be maintained that the local governments ought to command, in perpetuity, an EXCLUSIVE source of revenue for any sum beyond the extent of two hundred thousand pounds? To extend its power further, in EXCLUSION of the authority of the Union, would be to take the resources of the community out of those hands which stood in need of them for the public welfare, in order to put them into other hands which could have no just or proper occasion for them. Suppose, then, the convention had been inclined to proceed upon the principle of a repartition of the objects of revenue, between the Union and its members, in PROPORTION to their comparative necessities; what particular fund could have been selected for the use of the States, that would not either have been too much or too little too little for their present, too much for their future wants? As to the line of separation between external and internal taxes, this would leave to the States, at a rough computation, the command of two thirds of the resources of the community to defray from a tenth to a twentieth part of its expenses; and to the Union, one third of the resources of the community, to defray from nine tenths to nineteen twentieths of its expenses. If we desert this boundary and content ourselves with leaving to the States an exclusive power of taxing houses and lands, there would still be a great disproportion between the MEANS and the END; the possession of one third of the resources of the community to supply, at most, one tenth of its wants. If any fund could have been selected and appropriated, equal to and not greater than the object, it would have been inadequate to the discharge of the existing debts of the particular States, and would have left them dependent on the Union for a provision for this purpose. The preceding train of observation will justify the position which has been elsewhere laid down, that \"A CONCURRENT JURISDICTION in the article of taxation was the only admissible substitute for an entire subordination, in respect to this branch of power, of State authority to that of the Union.\" Any separation of the objects of revenue that could have been fallen upon, would have amounted to a sacrifice of the great INTERESTS of the Union to the POWER of the individual States. The convention thought the concurrent jurisdiction preferable to that subordination; and it is evident that it has at least the merit of reconciling an indefinite constitutional power of taxation in the Federal government with an adequate and independent power in the States to provide for their own necessities. There remain a few other lights, in which this important subject of taxation will claim a further consideration. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 35 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, January 5, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: BEFORE we proceed to examine any other objections to an indefinite power of taxation in the Union, I shall make one general remark; which is, that if the jurisdiction of the national government, in the article of revenue, should be restricted to particular objects, it would naturally occasion an undue proportion of the public burdens to fall upon those objects. Two evils would spring from this source: the oppression of particular branches of industry; and an unequal distribution of the taxes, as well among the several States as among the citizens of the same State. Suppose, as has been contended for, the federal power of taxation were to be confined to duties on imports, it is evident that the government, for want of being able to command other resources, would frequently be tempted to extend these duties to an injurious excess. There are persons who imagine that they can never be carried to too great a length; since the higher they are, the more it is alleged they will tend to discourage an extravagant consumption, to produce a favorable balance of trade, and to promote domestic manufactures. But all extremes are pernicious in various ways. Exorbitant duties on imported articles would beget a general spirit of smuggling; which is always prejudicial to the fair trader, and eventually to the revenue itself: they tend to render other classes of the community tributary, in an improper degree, to the manufacturing classes, to whom they give a premature monopoly of the markets; they sometimes force industry out of its more natural channels into others in which it flows with less advantage; and in the last place, they oppress the merchant, who is often obliged to pay them himself without any retribution from the consumer. When the demand is equal to the quantity of goods at market, the consumer generally pays the duty; but when the markets happen to be overstocked, a great proportion falls upon the merchant, and sometimes not only exhausts his profits, but breaks in upon his capital. I am apt to think that a division of the duty, between the seller and the buyer, more often happens than is commonly imagined. It is not always possible to raise the price of a commodity in exact proportion to every additional imposition laid upon it. The merchant, especially in a country of small commercial capital, is often under a necessity of keeping prices down in order to a more expeditious sale. The maxim that the consumer is the payer, is so much oftener true than the reverse of the proposition, that it is far more equitable that the duties on imports should go into a common stock, than that they should redound to the exclusive benefit of the importing States. But it is not so generally true as to render it equitable, that those duties should form the only national fund. When they are paid by the merchant they operate as an additional tax upon the importing State, whose citizens pay their proportion of them in the character of consumers. In this view they are productive of inequality among the States; which inequality would be increased with the increased extent of the duties. The confinement of the national revenues to this species of imposts would be attended with inequality, from a different cause, between the manufacturing and the nonmanufacturing States. The States which can go farthest towards the supply of their own wants, by their own manufactures, will not, according to their numbers or wealth, consume so great a proportion of imported articles as those States which are not in the same favorable situation. They would not, therefore, in this mode alone contribute to the public treasury in a ratio to their abilities. To make them do this it is necessary that recourse be had to excises, the proper objects of which are particular kinds of manufactures. New York is more deeply interested in these considerations than such of her citizens as contend for limiting the power of the Union to external taxation may be aware of. New York is an importing State, and is not likely speedily to be, to any great extent, a manufacturing State. She would, of course, suffer in a double light from restraining the jurisdiction of the Union to commercial imposts. So far as these observations tend to inculcate a danger of the import duties being extended to an injurious extreme it may be observed, conformably to a remark made in another part of these papers, that the interest of the revenue itself would be a sufficient guard against such an extreme. I readily admit that this would be the case, as long as other resources were open; but if the avenues to them were closed, HOPE, stimulated by necessity, would beget experiments, fortified by rigorous precautions and additional penalties, which, for a time, would have the intended effect, till there had been leisure to contrive expedients to elude these new precautions. The first success would be apt to inspire false opinions, which it might require a long course of subsequent experience to correct. Necessity, especially in politics, often occasions false hopes, false reasonings, and a system of measures correspondingly erroneous. But even if this supposed excess should not be a consequence of the limitation of the federal power of taxation, the inequalities spoken of would still ensue, though not in the same degree, from the other causes that have been noticed. Let us now return to the examination of objections. One which, if we may judge from the frequency of its repetition, seems most to be relied on, is, that the House of Representatives is not sufficiently numerous for the reception of all the different classes of citizens, in order to combine the interests and feelings of every part of the community, and to produce a due sympathy between the representative body and its constituents. This argument presents itself under a very specious and seducing form; and is well calculated to lay hold of the prejudices of those to whom it is addressed. But when we come to dissect it with attention, it will appear to be made up of nothing but fairsounding words. The object it seems to aim at is, in the first place, impracticable, and in the sense in which it is contended for, is unnecessary. I reserve for another place the discussion of the question which relates to the sufficiency of the representative body in respect to numbers, and shall content myself with examining here the particular use which has been made of a contrary supposition, in reference to the immediate subject of our inquiries. The idea of an actual representation of all classes of the people, by persons of each class, is altogether visionary. Unless it were expressly provided in the Constitution, that each different occupation should send one or more members, the thing would never take place in practice. Mechanics and manufacturers will always be inclined, with few exceptions, to give their votes to merchants, in preference to persons of their own professions or trades. Those discerning citizens are well aware that the mechanic and manufacturing arts furnish the materials of mercantile enterprise and industry. Many of them, indeed, are immediately connected with the operations of commerce. They know that the merchant is their natural patron and friend; and they are aware, that however great the confidence they may justly feel in their own good sense, their interests can be more effectually promoted by the merchant than by themselves. They are sensible that their habits in life have not been such as to give them those acquired endowments, without which, in a deliberative assembly, the greatest natural abilities are for the most part useless; and that the influence and weight, and superior acquirements of the merchants render them more equal to a contest with any spirit which might happen to infuse itself into the public councils, unfriendly to the manufacturing and trading interests. These considerations, and many others that might be mentioned prove, and experience confirms it, that artisans and manufacturers will commonly be disposed to bestow their votes upon merchants and those whom they recommend. We must therefore consider merchants as the natural representatives of all these classes of the community. With regard to the learned professions, little need be observed; they truly form no distinct interest in society, and according to their situation and talents, will be indiscriminately the objects of the confidence and choice of each other, and of other parts of the community. Nothing remains but the landed interest; and this, in a political view, and particularly in relation to taxes, I take to be perfectly united, from the wealthiest landlord down to the poorest tenant. No tax can be laid on land which will not affect the proprietor of millions of acres as well as the proprietor of a single acre. Every landholder will therefore have a common interest to keep the taxes on land as low as possible; and common interest may always be reckoned upon as the surest bond of sympathy. But if we even could suppose a distinction of interest between the opulent landholder and the middling farmer, what reason is there to conclude, that the first would stand a better chance of being deputed to the national legislature than the last? If we take fact as our guide, and look into our own senate and assembly, we shall find that moderate proprietors of land prevail in both; nor is this less the case in the senate, which consists of a smaller number, than in the assembly, which is composed of a greater number. Where the qualifications of the electors are the same, whether they have to choose a small or a large number, their votes will fall upon those in whom they have most confidence; whether these happen to be men of large fortunes, or of moderate property, or of no property at all. It is said to be necessary, that all classes of citizens should have some of their own number in the representative body, in order that their feelings and interests may be the better understood and attended to. But we have seen that this will never happen under any arrangement that leaves the votes of the people free. Where this is the case, the representative body, with too few exceptions to have any influence on the spirit of the government, will be composed of landholders, merchants, and men of the learned professions. But where is the danger that the interests and feelings of the different classes of citizens will not be understood or attended to by these three descriptions of men? Will not the landholder know and feel whatever will promote or insure the interest of landed property? And will he not, from his own interest in that species of property, be sufficiently prone to resist every attempt to prejudice or encumber it? Will not the merchant understand and be disposed to cultivate, as far as may be proper, the interests of the mechanic and manufacturing arts, to which his commerce is so nearly allied? Will not the man of the learned profession, who will feel a neutrality to the rivalships between the different branches of industry, be likely to prove an impartial arbiter between them, ready to promote either, so far as it shall appear to him conducive to the general interests of the society? If we take into the account the momentary humors or dispositions which may happen to prevail in particular parts of the society, and to which a wise administration will never be inattentive, is the man whose situation leads to extensive inquiry and information less likely to be a competent judge of their nature, extent, and foundation than one whose observation does not travel beyond the circle of his neighbors and acquaintances? Is it not natural that a man who is a candidate for the favor of the people, and who is dependent on the suffrages of his fellowcitizens for the continuance of his public honors, should take care to inform himself of their dispositions and inclinations, and should be willing to allow them their proper degree of influence upon his conduct? This dependence, and the necessity of being bound himself, and his posterity, by the laws to which he gives his assent, are the true, and they are the strong chords of sympathy between the representative and the constituent. There is no part of the administration of government that requires extensive information and a thorough knowledge of the principles of political economy, so much as the business of taxation. The man who understands those principles best will be least likely to resort to oppressive expedients, or sacrifice any particular class of citizens to the procurement of revenue. It might be demonstrated that the most productive system of finance will always be the least burdensome. There can be no doubt that in order to a judicious exercise of the power of taxation, it is necessary that the person in whose hands it should be acquainted with the general genius, habits, and modes of thinking of the people at large, and with the resources of the country. And this is all that can be reasonably meant by a knowledge of the interests and feelings of the people. In any other sense the proposition has either no meaning, or an absurd one. And in that sense let every considerate citizen judge for himself where the requisite qualification is most likely to be found. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 36 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the General Power of Taxation) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 8, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: WE HAVE seen that the result of the observations, to which the foregoing number has been principally devoted, is, that from the natural operation of the different interests and views of the various classes of the community, whether the representation of the people be more or less numerous, it will consist almost entirely of proprietors of land, of merchants, and of members of the learned professions, who will truly represent all those different interests and views. If it should be objected that we have seen other descriptions of men in the local legislatures, I answer that it is admitted there are exceptions to the rule, but not in sufficient number to influence the general complexion or character of the government. There are strong minds in every walk of life that will rise superior to the disadvantages of situation, and will command the tribute due to their merit, not only from the classes to which they particularly belong, but from the society in general. The door ought to be equally open to all; and I trust, for the credit of human nature, that we shall see examples of such vigorous plants flourishing in the soil of federal as well as of State legislation; but occasional instances of this sort will not render the reasoning founded upon the general course of things, less conclusive. The subject might be placed in several other lights that would all lead to the same result; and in particular it might be asked, What greater affinity or relation of interest can be conceived between the carpenter and blacksmith, and the linen manufacturer or stocking weaver, than between the merchant and either of them? It is notorious that there are often as great rivalships between different branches of the mechanic or manufacturing arts as there are between any of the departments of labor and industry; so that, unless the representative body were to be far more numerous than would be consistent with any idea of regularity or wisdom in its deliberations, it is impossible that what seems to be the spirit of the objection we have been considering should ever be realized in practice. But I forbear to dwell any longer on a matter which has hitherto worn too loose a garb to admit even of an accurate inspection of its real shape or tendency. There is another objection of a somewhat more precise nature that claims our attention. It has been asserted that a power of internal taxation in the national legislature could never be exercised with advantage, as well from the want of a sufficient knowledge of local circumstances, as from an interference between the revenue laws of the Union and of the particular States. The supposition of a want of proper knowledge seems to be entirely destitute of foundation. If any question is depending in a State legislature respecting one of the counties, which demands a knowledge of local details, how is it acquired? No doubt from the information of the members of the county. Cannot the like knowledge be obtained in the national legislature from the representatives of each State? And is it not to be presumed that the men who will generally be sent there will be possessed of the necessary degree of intelligence to be able to communicate that information? Is the knowledge of local circumstances, as applied to taxation, a minute topographical acquaintance with all the mountains, rivers, streams, highways, and bypaths in each State; or is it a general acquaintance with its situation and resources, with the state of its agriculture, commerce, manufactures, with the nature of its products and consumptions, with the different degrees and kinds of its wealth, property, and industry? Nations in general, even under governments of the more popular kind, usually commit the administration of their finances to single men or to boards composed of a few individuals, who digest and prepare, in the first instance, the plans of taxation, which are afterwards passed into laws by the authority of the sovereign or legislature. Inquisitive and enlightened statesmen are deemed everywhere best qualified to make a judicious selection of the objects proper for revenue; which is a clear indication, as far as the sense of mankind can have weight in the question, of the species of knowledge of local circumstances requisite to the purposes of taxation. The taxes intended to be comprised under the general denomination of internal taxes may be subdivided into those of the DIRECT and those of the INDIRECT kind. Though the objection be made to both, yet the reasoning upon it seems to be confined to the former branch. And indeed, as to the latter, by which must be understood duties and excises on articles of consumption, one is at a loss to conceive what can be the nature of the difficulties apprehended. The knowledge relating to them must evidently be of a kind that will either be suggested by the nature of the article itself, or can easily be procured from any wellinformed man, especially of the mercantile class. The circumstances that may distinguish its situation in one State from its situation in another must be few, simple, and easy to be comprehended. The principal thing to be attended to, would be to avoid those articles which had been previously appropriated to the use of a particular State; and there could be no difficulty in ascertaining the revenue system of each. This could always be known from the respective codes of laws, as well as from the information of the members from the several States. The objection, when applied to real property or to houses and lands, appears to have, at first sight, more foundation, but even in this view it will not bear a close examination. Land taxes are commonly laid in one of two modes, either by ACTUAL valuations, permanent or periodical, or by OCCASIONAL assessments, at the discretion, or according to the best judgment, of certain officers whose duty it is to make them. In either case, the EXECUTION of the business, which alone requires the knowledge of local details, must be devolved upon discreet persons in the character of commissioners or assessors, elected by the people or appointed by the government for the purpose. All that the law can do must be to name the persons or to prescribe the manner of their election or appointment, to fix their numbers and qualifications and to draw the general outlines of their powers and duties. And what is there in all this that cannot as well be performed by the national legislature as by a State legislature? The attention of either can only reach to general principles; local details, as already observed, must be referred to those who are to execute the plan. But there is a simple point of view in which this matter may be placed that must be altogether satisfactory. The national legislature can make use of the SYSTEM OF EACH STATE WITHIN THAT STATE. The method of laying and collecting this species of taxes in each State can, in all its parts, be adopted and employed by the federal government. Let it be recollected that the proportion of these taxes is not to be left to the discretion of the national legislature, but is to be determined by the numbers of each State, as described in the second section of the first article. An actual census or enumeration of the people must furnish the rule, a circumstance which effectually shuts the door to partiality or oppression. The abuse of this power of taxation seems to have been provided against with guarded circumspection. In addition to the precaution just mentioned, there is a provision that \"all duties, imposts, and excises shall be UNIFORM throughout the United States.\" It has been very properly observed by different speakers and writers on the side of the Constitution, that if the exercise of the power of internal taxation by the Union should be discovered on experiment to be really inconvenient, the federal government may then forbear the use of it, and have recourse to requisitions in its stead. By way of answer to this, it has been triumphantly asked, Why not in the first instance omit that ambiguous power, and rely upon the latter resource? Two solid answers may be given. The first is, that the exercise of that power, if convenient, will be preferable, because it will be more effectual; and it is impossible to prove in theory, or otherwise than by the experiment, that it cannot be advantageously exercised. The contrary, indeed, appears most probable. The second answer is, that the existence of such a power in the Constitution will have a strong influence in giving efficacy to requisitions. When the States know that the Union can apply itself without their agency, it will be a powerful motive for exertion on their part. As to the interference of the revenue laws of the Union, and of its members, we have already seen that there can be no clashing or repugnancy of authority. The laws cannot, therefore, in a legal sense, interfere with each other; and it is far from impossible to avoid an interference even in the policy of their different systems. An effectual expedient for this purpose will be, mutually, to abstain from those objects which either side may have first had recourse to. As neither can CONTROL the other, each will have an obvious and sensible interest in this reciprocal forbearance. And where there is an IMMEDIATE common interest, we may safely count upon its operation. When the particular debts of the States are done away, and their expenses come to be limited within their natural compass, the possibility almost of interference will vanish. A small land tax will answer the purpose of the States, and will be their most simple and most fit resource. Many spectres have been raised out of this power of internal taxation, to excite the apprehensions of the people: double sets of revenue officers, a duplication of their burdens by double taxations, and the frightful forms of odious and oppressive polltaxes, have been played off with all the ingenious dexterity of political legerdemain. As to the first point, there are two cases in which there can be no room for double sets of officers: one, where the right of imposing the tax is exclusively vested in the Union, which applies to the duties on imports; the other, where the object has not fallen under any State regulation or provision, which may be applicable to a variety of objects. In other cases, the probability is that the United States will either wholly abstain from the objects preoccupied for local purposes, or will make use of the State officers and State regulations for collecting the additional imposition. This will best answer the views of revenue, because it will save expense in the collection, and will best avoid any occasion of disgust to the State governments and to the people. At all events, here is a practicable expedient for avoiding such an inconvenience; and nothing more can be required than to show that evils predicted to not necessarily result from the plan. As to any argument derived from a supposed system of influence, it is a sufficient answer to say that it ought not to be presumed; but the supposition is susceptible of a more precise answer. If such a spirit should infest the councils of the Union, the most certain road to the accomplishment of its aim would be to employ the State officers as much as possible, and to attach them to the Union by an accumulation of their emoluments. This would serve to turn the tide of State influence into the channels of the national government, instead of making federal influence flow in an opposite and adverse current. But all suppositions of this kind are invidious, and ought to be banished from the consideration of the great question before the people. They can answer no other end than to cast a mist over the truth. As to the suggestion of double taxation, the answer is plain. The wants of the Union are to be supplied in one way or another; if to be done by the authority of the federal government, it will not be to be done by that of the State government. The quantity of taxes to be paid by the community must be the same in either case; with this advantage, if the provision is to be made by the Union that the capital resource of commercial imposts, which is the most convenient branch of revenue, can be prudently improved to a much greater extent under federal than under State regulation, and of course will render it less necessary to recur to more inconvenient methods; and with this further advantage, that as far as there may be any real difficulty in the exercise of the power of internal taxation, it will impose a disposition to greater care in the choice and arrangement of the means; and must naturally tend to make it a fixed point of policy in the national administration to go as far as may be practicable in making the luxury of the rich tributary to the public treasury, in order to diminish the necessity of those impositions which might create dissatisfaction in the poorer and most numerous classes of the society. Happy it is when the interest which the government has in the preservation of its own power, coincides with a proper distribution of the public burdens, and tends to guard the least wealthy part of the community from oppression! As to poll taxes, I, without scruple, confess my disapprobation of them; and though they have prevailed from an early period in those States(1) which have uniformly been the most tenacious of their rights, I should lament to see them introduced into practice under the national government. But does it follow because there is a power to lay them that they will actually be laid? Every State in the Union has power to impose taxes of this kind; and yet in several of them they are unknown in practice. Are the State governments to be stigmatized as tyrannies, because they possess this power? If they are not, with what propriety can the like power justify such a charge against the national government, or even be urged as an obstacle to its adoption? As little friendly as I am to the species of imposition, I still feel a thorough conviction that the power of having recourse to it ought to exist in the federal government. There are certain emergencies of nations, in which expedients, that in the ordinary state of things ought to be forborne, become essential to the public weal. And the government, from the possibility of such emergencies, ought ever to have the option of making use of them. The real scarcity of objects in this country, which may be considered as productive sources of revenue, is a reason peculiar to itself, for not abridging the discretion of the national councils in this respect. There may exist certain critical and tempestuous conjunctures of the State, in which a poll tax may become an inestimable resource. And as I know nothing to exempt this portion of the globe from the common calamities that have befallen other parts of it, I acknowledge my aversion to every project that is calculated to disarm the government of a single weapon, which in any possible contingency might be usefully employed for the general defense and security. (I have now gone through the examination of such of the powers proposed to be vested in the United States, which may be considered as having an immediate relation to the energy of the government; and have endeavored to answer the principal objections which have been made to them. I have passed over in silence those minor authorities, which are either too inconsiderable to have been thought worthy of the hostilities of the opponents of the Constitution, or of too manifest propriety to admit of controversy. The mass of judiciary power, however, might have claimed an investigation under this head, had it not been for the consideration that its organization and its extent may be more advantageously considered in connection. This has determined me to refer it to the branch of our inquiries upon which we shall next enter.)(E1) (I have now gone through the examination of those powers proposed to be conferred upon the federal government which relate more peculiarly to its energy, and to its efficiency for answering the great and primary objects of union. There are others which, though omitted here, will, in order to render the view of the subject more complete, be taken notice of under the next head of our inquiries. I flatter myself the progress already made will have sufficed to satisfy the candid and judicious part of the community that some of the objections which have been most strenuously urged against the Constitution, and which were most formidable in their first appearance, are not only destitute of substance, but if they had operated in the formation of the plan, would have rendered it incompetent to the great ends of public happiness and national prosperity. I equally flatter myself that a further and more critical investigation of the system will serve to recommend it still more to every sincere and disinterested advocate for good government and will leave no doubt with men of this character of the propriety and expediency of adopting it. Happy will it be for ourselves, and more honorable for human nature, if we have wisdom and virtue enough to set so glorious an example to mankind!)(E1) PUBLIUS 1. The New England States. E1. Two versions of this paragraph appear in different editions. FEDERALIST No. 37 Concerning the Difficulties of the Convention in Devising a Proper Form of Government. From the Daily Advertiser. Friday, January 11, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: IN REVIEWING the defects of the existing Confederation, and showing that they cannot be supplied by a government of less energy than that before the public, several of the most important principles of the latter fell of course under consideration. But as the ultimate object of these papers is to determine clearly and fully the merits of this Constitution, and the expediency of adopting it, our plan cannot be complete without taking a more critical and thorough survey of the work of the convention, without examining it on all its sides, comparing it in all its parts, and calculating its probable effects. That this remaining task may be executed under impressions conducive to a just and fair result, some reflections must in this place be indulged, which candor previously suggests. It is a misfortune, inseparable from human affairs, that public measures are rarely investigated with that spirit of moderation which is essential to a just estimate of their real tendency to advance or obstruct the public good; and that this spirit is more apt to be diminished than promoted, by those occasions which require an unusual exercise of it. To those who have been led by experience to attend to this consideration, it could not appear surprising, that the act of the convention, which recommends so many important changes and innovations, which may be viewed in so many lights and relations, and which touches the springs of so many passions and interests, should find or excite dispositions unfriendly, both on one side and on the other, to a fair discussion and accurate judgment of its merits. In some, it has been too evident from their own publications, that they have scanned the proposed Constitution, not only with a predisposition to censure, but with a predetermination to condemn; as the language held by others betrays an opposite predetermination or bias, which must render their opinions also of little moment in the question. In placing, however, these different characters on a level, with respect to the weight of their opinions, I wish not to insinuate that there may not be a material difference in the purity of their intentions. It is but just to remark in favor of the latter description, that as our situation is universally admitted to be peculiarly critical, and to require indispensably that something should be done for our relief, the predetermined patron of what has been actually done may have taken his bias from the weight of these considerations, as well as from considerations of a sinister nature. The predetermined adversary, on the other hand, can have been governed by no venial motive whatever. The intentions of the first may be upright, as they may on the contrary be culpable. The views of the last cannot be upright, and must be culpable. But the truth is, that these papers are not addressed to persons falling under either of these characters. They solicit the attention of those only, who add to a sincere zeal for the happiness of their country, a temper favorable to a just estimate of the means of promoting it. Persons of this character will proceed to an examination of the plan submitted by the convention, not only without a disposition to find or to magnify faults; but will see the propriety of reflecting, that a faultless plan was not to be expected. Nor will they barely make allowances for the errors which may be chargeable on the fallibility to which the convention, as a body of men, were liable; but will keep in mind, that they themselves also are but men, and ought not to assume an infallibility in rejudging the fallible opinions of others. With equal readiness will it be perceived, that besides these inducements to candor, many allowances ought to be made for the difficulties inherent in the very nature of the undertaking referred to the convention. The novelty of the undertaking immediately strikes us. It has been shown in the course of these papers, that the existing Confederation is founded on principles which are fallacious; that we must consequently change this first foundation, and with it the superstructure resting upon it. It has been shown, that the other confederacies which could be consulted as precedents have been vitiated by the same erroneous principles, and can therefore furnish no other light than that of beacons, which give warning of the course to be shunned, without pointing out that which ought to be pursued. The most that the convention could do in such a situation, was to avoid the errors suggested by the past experience of other countries, as well as of our own; and to provide a convenient mode of rectifying their own errors, as future experiences may unfold them. Among the difficulties encountered by the convention, a very important one must have lain in combining the requisite stability and energy in government, with the inviolable attention due to liberty and to the republican form. Without substantially accomplishing this part of their undertaking, they would have very imperfectly fulfilled the object of their appointment, or the expectation of the public; yet that it could not be easily accomplished, will be denied by no one who is unwilling to betray his ignorance of the subject. Energy in government is essential to that security against external and internal danger, and to that prompt and salutary execution of the laws which enter into the very definition of good government. Stability in government is essential to national character and to the advantages annexed to it, as well as to that repose and confidence in the minds of the people, which are among the chief blessings of civil society. An irregular and mutable legislation is not more an evil in itself than it is odious to the people; and it may be pronounced with assurance that the people of this country, enlightened as they are with regard to the nature, and interested, as the great body of them are, in the effects of good government, will never be satisfied till some remedy be applied to the vicissitudes and uncertainties which characterize the State administrations. On comparing, however, these valuable ingredients with the vital principles of liberty, we must perceive at once the difficulty of mingling them together in their due proportions. The genius of republican liberty seems to demand on one side, not only that all power should be derived from the people, but that those intrusted with it should be kept in independence on the people, by a short duration of their appointments; and that even during this short period the trust should be placed not in a few, but a number of hands. Stability, on the contrary, requires that the hands in which power is lodged should continue for a length of time the same. A frequent change of men will result from a frequent return of elections; and a frequent change of measures from a frequent change of men: whilst energy in government requires not only a certain duration of power, but the execution of it by a single hand. How far the convention may have succeeded in this part of their work, will better appear on a more accurate view of it. From the cursory view here taken, it must clearly appear to have been an arduous part. Not less arduous must have been the task of marking the proper line of partition between the authority of the general and that of the State governments. Every man will be sensible of this difficulty, in proportion as he has been accustomed to contemplate and discriminate objects extensive and complicated in their nature. The faculties of the mind itself have never yet been distinguished and defined, with satisfactory precision, by all the efforts of the most acute and metaphysical philosophers. Sense, perception, judgment, desire, volition, memory, imagination, are found to be separated by such delicate shades and minute gradations that their boundaries have eluded the most subtle investigations, and remain a pregnant source of ingenious disquisition and controversy. The boundaries between the great kingdom of nature, and, still more, between the various provinces, and lesser portions, into which they are subdivided, afford another illustration of the same important truth. The most sagacious and laborious naturalists have never yet succeeded in tracing with certainty the line which separates the district of vegetable life from the neighboring region of unorganized matter, or which marks the termination of the former and the commencement of the animal empire. A still greater obscurity lies in the distinctive characters by which the objects in each of these great departments of nature have been arranged and assorted. When we pass from the works of nature, in which all the delineations are perfectly accurate, and appear to be otherwise only from the imperfection of the eye which surveys them, to the institutions of man, in which the obscurity arises as well from the object itself as from the organ by which it is contemplated, we must perceive the necessity of moderating still further our expectations and hopes from the efforts of human sagacity. Experience has instructed us that no skill in the science of government has yet been able to discriminate and define, with sufficient certainty, its three great provinces the legislative, executive, and judiciary; or even the privileges and powers of the different legislative branches. Questions daily occur in the course of practice, which prove the obscurity which reins in these subjects, and which puzzle the greatest adepts in political science. The experience of ages, with the continued and combined labors of the most enlightened legislatures and jurists, has been equally unsuccessful in delineating the several objects and limits of different codes of laws and different tribunals of justice. The precise extent of the common law, and the statute law, the maritime law, the ecclesiastical law, the law of corporations, and other local laws and customs, remains still to be clearly and finally established in Great Britain, where accuracy in such subjects has been more industriously pursued than in any other part of the world. The jurisdiction of her several courts, general and local, of law, of equity, of admiralty, etc., is not less a source of frequent and intricate discussions, sufficiently denoting the indeterminate limits by which they are respectively circumscribed. All new laws, though penned with the greatest technical skill, and passed on the fullest and most mature deliberation, are considered as more or less obscure and equivocal, until their meaning be liquidated and ascertained by a series of particular discussions and adjudications. Besides the obscurity arising from the complexity of objects, and the imperfection of the human faculties, the medium through which the conceptions of men are conveyed to each other adds a fresh embarrassment. The use of words is to express ideas. Perspicuity, therefore, requires not only that the ideas should be distinctly formed, but that they should be expressed by words distinctly and exclusively appropriate to them. But no language is so copious as to supply words and phrases for every complex idea, or so correct as not to include many equivocally denoting different ideas. Hence it must happen that however accurately objects may be discriminated in themselves, and however accurately the discrimination may be considered, the definition of them may be rendered inaccurate by the inaccuracy of the terms in which it is delivered. And this unavoidable inaccuracy must be greater or less, according to the complexity and novelty of the objects defined. When the Almighty himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful by the cloudy medium through which it is communicated. Here, then, are three sources of vague and incorrect definitions: indistinctness of the object, imperfection of the organ of conception, inadequateness of the vehicle of ideas. Any one of these must produce a certain degree of obscurity. The convention, in delineating the boundary between the federal and State jurisdictions, must have experienced the full effect of them all. To the difficulties already mentioned may be added the interfering pretensions of the larger and smaller States. We cannot err in supposing that the former would contend for a participation in the government, fully proportioned to their superior wealth and importance; and that the latter would not be less tenacious of the equality at present enjoyed by them. We may well suppose that neither side would entirely yield to the other, and consequently that the struggle could be terminated only by compromise. It is extremely probable, also, that after the ratio of representation had been adjusted, this very compromise must have produced a fresh struggle between the same parties, to give such a turn to the organization of the government, and to the distribution of its powers, as would increase the importance of the branches, in forming which they had respectively obtained the greatest share of influence. There are features in the Constitution which warrant each of these suppositions; and as far as either of them is well founded, it shows that the convention must have been compelled to sacrifice theoretical propriety to the force of extraneous considerations. Nor could it have been the large and small States only, which would marshal themselves in opposition to each other on various points. Other combinations, resulting from a difference of local position and policy, must have created additional difficulties. As every State may be divided into different districts, and its citizens into different classes, which give birth to contending interests and local jealousies, so the different parts of the United States are distinguished from each other by a variety of circumstances, which produce a like effect on a larger scale. And although this variety of interests, for reasons sufficiently explained in a former paper, may have a salutary influence on the administration of the government when formed, yet every one must be sensible of the contrary influence, which must have been experienced in the task of forming it. Would it be wonderful if, under the pressure of all these difficulties, the convention should have been forced into some deviations from that artificial structure and regular symmetry which an abstract view of the subject might lead an ingenious theorist to bestow on a Constitution planned in his closet or in his imagination? The real wonder is that so many difficulties should have been surmounted, and surmounted with a unanimity almost as unprecedented as it must have been unexpected. It is impossible for any man of candor to reflect on this circumstance without partaking of the astonishment. It is impossible for the man of pious reflection not to perceive in it a finger of that Almighty hand which has been so frequently and signally extended to our relief in the critical stages of the revolution. We had occasion, in a former paper, to take notice of the repeated trials which have been unsuccessfully made in the United Netherlands for reforming the baneful and notorious vices of their constitution. The history of almost all the great councils and consultations held among mankind for reconciling their discordant opinions, assuaging their mutual jealousies, and adjusting their respective interests, is a history of factions, contentions, and disappointments, and may be classed among the most dark and degraded pictures which display the infirmities and depravities of the human character. If, in a few scattered instances, a brighter aspect is presented, they serve only as exceptions to admonish us of the general truth; and by their lustre to darken the gloom of the adverse prospect to which they are contrasted. In revolving the causes from which these exceptions result, and applying them to the particular instances before us, we are necessarily led to two important conclusions. The first is, that the convention must have enjoyed, in a very singular degree, an exemption from the pestilential influence of party animosities the disease most incident to deliberative bodies, and most apt to contaminate their proceedings. The second conclusion is that all the deputations composing the convention were satisfactorily accommodated by the final act, or were induced to accede to it by a deep conviction of the necessity of sacrificing private opinions and partial interests to the public good, and by a despair of seeing this necessity diminished by delays or by new experiments. FEDERALIST No. 38 The Same Subject Continued, and the Incoherence of the Objections to the New Plan Exposed. From The Independent Journal. Saturday, January 12, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: IT IS not a little remarkable that in every case reported by ancient history, in which government has been established with deliberation and consent, the task of framing it has not been committed to an assembly of men, but has been performed by some individual citizen of preeminent wisdom and approved integrity. Minos, we learn, was the primitive founder of the government of Crete, as Zaleucus was of that of the Locrians. Theseus first, and after him Draco and Solon, instituted the government of Athens. Lycurgus was the lawgiver of Sparta. The foundation of the original government of Rome was laid by Romulus, and the work completed by two of his elective successors, Numa and Tullius Hostilius. On the abolition of royalty the consular administration was substituted by Brutus, who stepped forward with a project for such a reform, which, he alleged, had been prepared by Tullius Hostilius, and to which his address obtained the assent and ratification of the senate and people. This remark is applicable to confederate governments also. Amphictyon, we are told, was the author of that which bore his name. The Achaean league received its first birth from Achaeus, and its second from Aratus. What degree of agency these reputed lawgivers might have in their respective establishments, or how far they might be clothed with the legitimate authority of the people, cannot in every instance be ascertained. In some, however, the proceeding was strictly regular. Draco appears to have been intrusted by the people of Athens with indefinite powers to reform its government and laws. And Solon, according to Plutarch, was in a manner compelled, by the universal suffrage of his fellowcitizens, to take upon him the sole and absolute power of newmodeling the constitution. The proceedings under Lycurgus were less regular; but as far as the advocates for a regular reform could prevail, they all turned their eyes towards the single efforts of that celebrated patriot and sage, instead of seeking to bring about a revolution by the intervention of a deliberative body of citizens. Whence could it have proceeded, that a people, jealous as the Greeks were of their liberty, should so far abandon the rules of caution as to place their destiny in the hands of a single citizen? Whence could it have proceeded, that the Athenians, a people who would not suffer an army to be commanded by fewer than ten generals, and who required no other proof of danger to their liberties than the illustrious merit of a fellowcitizen, should consider one illustrious citizen as a more eligible depositary of the fortunes of themselves and their posterity, than a select body of citizens, from whose common deliberations more wisdom, as well as more safety, might have been expected? These questions cannot be fully answered, without supposing that the fears of discord and disunion among a number of counsellors exceeded the apprehension of treachery or incapacity in a single individual. History informs us, likewise, of the difficulties with which these celebrated reformers had to contend, as well as the expedients which they were obliged to employ in order to carry their reforms into effect. Solon, who seems to have indulged a more temporizing policy, confessed that he had not given to his countrymen the government best suited to their happiness, but most tolerable to their prejudices. And Lycurgus, more true to his object, was under the necessity of mixing a portion of violence with the authority of superstition, and of securing his final success by a voluntary renunciation, first of his country, and then of his life. If these lessons teach us, on one hand, to admire the improvement made by America on the ancient mode of preparing and establishing regular plans of government, they serve not less, on the other, to admonish us of the hazards and difficulties incident to such experiments, and of the great imprudence of unnecessarily multiplying them. Is it an unreasonable conjecture, that the errors which may be contained in the plan of the convention are such as have resulted rather from the defect of antecedent experience on this complicated and difficult subject, than from a want of accuracy or care in the investigation of it; and, consequently such as will not be ascertained until an actual trial shall have pointed them out? This conjecture is rendered probable, not only by many considerations of a general nature, but by the particular case of the Articles of Confederation. It is observable that among the numerous objections and amendments suggested by the several States, when these articles were submitted for their ratification, not one is found which alludes to the great and radical error which on actual trial has discovered itself. And if we except the observations which New Jersey was led to make, rather by her local situation, than by her peculiar foresight, it may be questioned whether a single suggestion was of sufficient moment to justify a revision of the system. There is abundant reason, nevertheless, to suppose that immaterial as these objections were, they would have been adhered to with a very dangerous inflexibility, in some States, had not a zeal for their opinions and supposed interests been stifled by the more powerful sentiment of selfpreservation. One State, we may remember, persisted for several years in refusing her concurrence, although the enemy remained the whole period at our gates, or rather in the very bowels of our country. Nor was her pliancy in the end effected by a less motive, than the fear of being chargeable with protracting the public calamities, and endangering the event of the contest. Every candid reader will make the proper reflections on these important facts. A patient who finds his disorder daily growing worse, and that an efficacious remedy can no longer be delayed without extreme danger, after coolly revolving his situation, and the characters of different physicians, selects and calls in such of them as he judges most capable of administering relief, and best entitled to his confidence. The physicians attend; the case of the patient is carefully examined; a consultation is held; they are unanimously agreed that the symptoms are critical, but that the case, with proper and timely relief, is so far from being desperate, that it may be made to issue in an improvement of his constitution. They are equally unanimous in prescribing the remedy, by which this happy effect is to be produced. The prescription is no sooner made known, however, than a number of persons interpose, and, without denying the reality or danger of the disorder, assure the patient that the prescription will be poison to his constitution, and forbid him, under pain of certain death, to make use of it. Might not the patient reasonably demand, before he ventured to follow this advice, that the authors of it should at least agree among themselves on some other remedy to be substituted? And if he found them differing as much from one another as from his first counsellors, would he not act prudently in trying the experiment unanimously recommended by the latter, rather than be hearkening to those who could neither deny the necessity of a speedy remedy, nor agree in proposing one? Such a patient and in such a situation is America at this moment. She has been sensible of her malady. She has obtained a regular and unanimous advice from men of her own deliberate choice. And she is warned by others against following this advice under pain of the most fatal consequences. Do the monitors deny the reality of her danger? No. Do they deny the necessity of some speedy and powerful remedy? No. Are they agreed, are any two of them agreed, in their objections to the remedy proposed, or in the proper one to be substituted? Let them speak for themselves. This one tells us that the proposed Constitution ought to be rejected, because it is not a confederation of the States, but a government over individuals. Another admits that it ought to be a government over individuals to a certain extent, but by no means to the extent proposed. A third does not object to the government over individuals, or to the extent proposed, but to the want of a bill of rights. A fourth concurs in the absolute necessity of a bill of rights, but contends that it ought to be declaratory, not of the personal rights of individuals, but of the rights reserved to the States in their political capacity. A fifth is of opinion that a bill of rights of any sort would be superfluous and misplaced, and that the plan would be unexceptionable but for the fatal power of regulating the times and places of election. An objector in a large State exclaims loudly against the unreasonable equality of representation in the Senate. An objector in a small State is equally loud against the dangerous inequality in the House of Representatives. From this quarter, we are alarmed with the amazing expense, from the number of persons who are to administer the new government. From another quarter, and sometimes from the same quarter, on another occasion, the cry is that the Congress will be but a shadow of a representation, and that the government would be far less objectionable if the number and the expense were doubled. A patriot in a State that does not import or export, discerns insuperable objections against the power of direct taxation. The patriotic adversary in a State of great exports and imports, is not less dissatisfied that the whole burden of taxes may be thrown on consumption. This politician discovers in the Constitution a direct and irresistible tendency to monarchy; that is equally sure it will end in aristocracy. Another is puzzled to say which of these shapes it will ultimately assume, but sees clearly it must be one or other of them; whilst a fourth is not wanting, who with no less confidence affirms that the Constitution is so far from having a bias towards either of these dangers, that the weight on that side will not be sufficient to keep it upright and firm against its opposite propensities. With another class of adversaries to the Constitution the language is that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are intermixed in such a manner as to contradict all the ideas of regular government and all the requisite precautions in favor of liberty. Whilst this objection circulates in vague and general expressions, there are but a few who lend their sanction to it. Let each one come forward with his particular explanation, and scarce any two are exactly agreed upon the subject. In the eyes of one the junction of the Senate with the President in the responsible function of appointing to offices, instead of vesting this executive power in the Executive alone, is the vicious part of the organization. To another, the exclusion of the House of Representatives, whose numbers alone could be a due security against corruption and partiality in the exercise of such a power, is equally obnoxious. With another, the admission of the President into any share of a power which ever must be a dangerous engine in the hands of the executive magistrate, is an unpardonable violation of the maxims of republican jealousy. No part of the arrangement, according to some, is more inadmissible than the trial of impeachments by the Senate, which is alternately a member both of the legislative and executive departments, when this power so evidently belonged to the judiciary department. \"We concur fully,\" reply others, \"in the objection to this part of the plan, but we can never agree that a reference of impeachments to the judiciary authority would be an amendment of the error. Our principal dislike to the organization arises from the extensive powers already lodged in that department.\" Even among the zealous patrons of a council of state the most irreconcilable variance is discovered concerning the mode in which it ought to be constituted. The demand of one gentleman is, that the council should consist of a small number to be appointed by the most numerous branch of the legislature. Another would prefer a larger number, and considers it as a fundamental condition that the appointment should be made by the President himself. As it can give no umbrage to the writers against the plan of the federal Constitution, let us suppose, that as they are the most zealous, so they are also the most sagacious, of those who think the late convention were unequal to the task assigned them, and that a wiser and better plan might and ought to be substituted. Let us further suppose that their country should concur, both in this favorable opinion of their merits, and in their unfavorable opinion of the convention; and should accordingly proceed to form them into a second convention, with full powers, and for the express purpose of revising and remoulding the work of the first. Were the experiment to be seriously made, though it required some effort to view it seriously even in fiction, I leave it to be decided by the sample of opinions just exhibited, whether, with all their enmity to their predecessors, they would, in any one point, depart so widely from their example, as in the discord and ferment that would mark their own deliberations; and whether the Constitution, now before the public, would not stand as fair a chance for immortality, as Lycurgus gave to that of Sparta, by making its change to depend on his own return from exile and death, if it were to be immediately adopted, and were to continue in force, not until a BETTER, but until ANOTHER should be agreed upon by this new assembly of lawgivers. It is a matter both of wonder and regret, that those who raise so many objections against the new Constitution should never call to mind the defects of that which is to be exchanged for it. It is not necessary that the former should be perfect; it is sufficient that the latter is more imperfect. No man would refuse to give brass for silver or gold, because the latter had some alloy in it. No man would refuse to quit a shattered and tottering habitation for a firm and commodious building, because the latter had not a porch to it, or because some of the rooms might be a little larger or smaller, or the ceilings a little higher or lower than his fancy would have planned them. But waiving illustrations of this sort, is it not manifest that most of the capital objections urged against the new system lie with tenfold weight against the existing Confederation? Is an indefinite power to raise money dangerous in the hands of the federal government? The present Congress can make requisitions to any amount they please, and the States are constitutionally bound to furnish them; they can emit bills of credit as long as they will pay for the paper; they can borrow, both abroad and at home, as long as a shilling will be lent. Is an indefinite power to raise troops dangerous? The Confederation gives to Congress that power also; and they have already begun to make use of it. Is it improper and unsafe to intermix the different powers of government in the same body of men? Congress, a single body of men, are the sole depositary of all the federal powers. Is it particularly dangerous to give the keys of the treasury, and the command of the army, into the same hands? The Confederation places them both in the hands of Congress. Is a bill of rights essential to liberty? The Confederation has no bill of rights. Is it an objection against the new Constitution, that it empowers the Senate, with the concurrence of the Executive, to make treaties which are to be the laws of the land? The existing Congress, without any such control, can make treaties which they themselves have declared, and most of the States have recognized, to be the supreme law of the land. Is the importation of slaves permitted by the new Constitution for twenty years? By the old it is permitted forever. I shall be told, that however dangerous this mixture of powers may be in theory, it is rendered harmless by the dependence of Congress on the State for the means of carrying them into practice; that however large the mass of powers may be, it is in fact a lifeless mass. Then, say I, in the first place, that the Confederation is chargeable with the still greater folly of declaring certain powers in the federal government to be absolutely necessary, and at the same time rendering them absolutely nugatory; and, in the next place, that if the Union is to continue, and no better government be substituted, effective powers must either be granted to, or assumed by, the existing Congress; in either of which events, the contrast just stated will hold good. But this is not all. Out of this lifeless mass has already grown an excrescent power, which tends to realize all the dangers that can be apprehended from a defective construction of the supreme government of the Union. It is now no longer a point of speculation and hope, that the Western territory is a mine of vast wealth to the United States; and although it is not of such a nature as to extricate them from their present distresses, or for some time to come, to yield any regular supplies for the public expenses, yet must it hereafter be able, under proper management, both to effect a gradual discharge of the domestic debt, and to furnish, for a certain period, liberal tributes to the federal treasury. A very large proportion of this fund has been already surrendered by individual States; and it may with reason be expected that the remaining States will not persist in withholding similar proofs of their equity and generosity. We may calculate, therefore, that a rich and fertile country, of an area equal to the inhabited extent of the United States, will soon become a national stock. Congress have assumed the administration of this stock. They have begun to render it productive. Congress have undertaken to do more: they have proceeded to form new States, to erect temporary governments, to appoint officers for them, and to prescribe the conditions on which such States shall be admitted into the Confederacy. All this has been done; and done without the least color of constitutional authority. Yet no blame has been whispered; no alarm has been sounded. A GREAT and INDEPENDENT fund of revenue is passing into the hands of a SINGLE BODY of men, who can RAISE TROOPS to an INDEFINITE NUMBER, and appropriate money to their support for an INDEFINITE PERIOD OF TIME. And yet there are men, who have not only been silent spectators of this prospect, but who are advocates for the system which exhibits it; and, at the same time, urge against the new system the objections which we have heard. Would they not act with more consistency, in urging the establishment of the latter, as no less necessary to guard the Union against the future powers and resources of a body constructed like the existing Congress, than to save it from the dangers threatened by the present impotency of that Assembly? I mean not, by any thing here said, to throw censure on the measures which have been pursued by Congress. I am sensible they could not have done otherwise. The public interest, the necessity of the case, imposed upon them the task of overleaping their constitutional limits. But is not the fact an alarming proof of the danger resulting from a government which does not possess regular powers commensurate to its objects? A dissolution or usurpation is the dreadful dilemma to which it is continually exposed. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 39 The Conformity of the Plan to Republican Principles For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, January 16, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE last paper having concluded the observations which were meant to introduce a candid survey of the plan of government reported by the convention, we now proceed to the execution of that part of our undertaking. The first question that offers itself is, whether the general form and aspect of the government be strictly republican. It is evident that no other form would be reconcilable with the genius of the people of America; with the fundamental principles of the Revolution; or with that honorable determination which animates every votary of freedom, to rest all our political experiments on the capacity of mankind for selfgovernment. If the plan of the convention, therefore, be found to depart from the republican character, its advocates must abandon it as no longer defensible. What, then, are the distinctive characters of the republican form? Were an answer to this question to be sought, not by recurring to principles, but in the application of the term by political writers, to the constitution of different States, no satisfactory one would ever be found. Holland, in which no particle of the supreme authority is derived from the people, has passed almost universally under the denomination of a republic. The same title has been bestowed on Venice, where absolute power over the great body of the people is exercised, in the most absolute manner, by a small body of hereditary nobles. Poland, which is a mixture of aristocracy and of monarchy in their worst forms, has been dignified with the same appellation. The government of England, which has one republican branch only, combined with an hereditary aristocracy and monarchy, has, with equal impropriety, been frequently placed on the list of republics. These examples, which are nearly as dissimilar to each other as to a genuine republic, show the extreme inaccuracy with which the term has been used in political disquisitions. If we resort for a criterion to the different principles on which different forms of government are established, we may define a republic to be, or at least may bestow that name on, a government which derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their offices during pleasure, for a limited period, or during good behavior. It is ESSENTIAL to such a government that it be derived from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable proportion, or a favored class of it; otherwise a handful of tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans, and claim for their government the honorable title of republic. It is SUFFICIENT for such a government that the persons administering it be appointed, either directly or indirectly, by the people; and that they hold their appointments by either of the tenures just specified; otherwise every government in the United States, as well as every other popular government that has been or can be well organized or well executed, would be degraded from the republican character. According to the constitution of every State in the Union, some or other of the officers of government are appointed indirectly only by the people. According to most of them, the chief magistrate himself is so appointed. And according to one, this mode of appointment is extended to one of the coordinate branches of the legislature. According to all the constitutions, also, the tenure of the highest offices is extended to a definite period, and in many instances, both within the legislative and executive departments, to a period of years. According to the provisions of most of the constitutions, again, as well as according to the most respectable and received opinions on the subject, the members of the judiciary department are to retain their offices by the firm tenure of good behavior. On comparing the Constitution planned by the convention with the standard here fixed, we perceive at once that it is, in the most rigid sense, conformable to it. The House of Representatives, like that of one branch at least of all the State legislatures, is elected immediately by the great body of the people. The Senate, like the present Congress, and the Senate of Maryland, derives its appointment indirectly from the people. The President is indirectly derived from the choice of the people, according to the example in most of the States. Even the judges, with all other officers of the Union, will, as in the several States, be the choice, though a remote choice, of the people themselves, the duration of the appointments is equally conformable to the republican standard, and to the model of State constitutions The House of Representatives is periodically elective, as in all the States; and for the period of two years, as in the State of South Carolina. The Senate is elective, for the period of six years; which is but one year more than the period of the Senate of Maryland, and but two more than that of the Senates of New York and Virginia. The President is to continue in office for the period of four years; as in New York and Delaware, the chief magistrate is elected for three years, and in South Carolina for two years. In the other States the election is annual. In several of the States, however, no constitutional provision is made for the impeachment of the chief magistrate. And in Delaware and Virginia he is not impeachable till out of office. The President of the United States is impeachable at any time during his continuance in office. The tenure by which the judges are to hold their places, is, as it unquestionably ought to be, that of good behavior. The tenure of the ministerial offices generally, will be a subject of legal regulation, conformably to the reason of the case and the example of the State constitutions. Could any further proof be required of the republican complexion of this system, the most decisive one might be found in its absolute prohibition of titles of nobility, both under the federal and the State governments; and in its express guaranty of the republican form to each of the latter. \"But it was not sufficient,\" say the adversaries of the proposed Constitution, \"for the convention to adhere to the republican form. They ought, with equal care, to have preserved the FEDERAL form, which regards the Union as a CONFEDERACY of sovereign states; instead of which, they have framed a NATIONAL government, which regards the Union as a CONSOLIDATION of the States.\" And it is asked by what authority this bold and radical innovation was undertaken? The handle which has been made of this objection requires that it should be examined with some precision. Without inquiring into the accuracy of the distinction on which the objection is founded, it will be necessary to a just estimate of its force, first, to ascertain the real character of the government in question; secondly, to inquire how far the convention were authorized to propose such a government; and thirdly, how far the duty they owed to their country could supply any defect of regular authority. First. In order to ascertain the real character of the government, it may be considered in relation to the foundation on which it is to be established; to the sources from which its ordinary powers are to be drawn; to the operation of those powers; to the extent of them; and to the authority by which future changes in the government are to be introduced. On examining the first relation, it appears, on one hand, that the Constitution is to be founded on the assent and ratification of the people of America, given by deputies elected for the special purpose; but, on the other, that this assent and ratification is to be given by the people, not as individuals composing one entire nation, but as composing the distinct and independent States to which they respectively belong. It is to be the assent and ratification of the several States, derived from the supreme authority in each State, the authority of the people themselves. The act, therefore, establishing the Constitution, will not be a NATIONAL, but a FEDERAL act. That it will be a federal and not a national act, as these terms are understood by the objectors; the act of the people, as forming so many independent States, not as forming one aggregate nation, is obvious from this single consideration, that it is to result neither from the decision of a MAJORITY of the people of the Union, nor from that of a MAJORITY of the States. It must result from the UNANIMOUS assent of the several States that are parties to it, differing no otherwise from their ordinary assent than in its being expressed, not by the legislative authority, but by that of the people themselves. Were the people regarded in this transaction as forming one nation, the will of the majority of the whole people of the United States would bind the minority, in the same manner as the majority in each State must bind the minority; and the will of the majority must be determined either by a comparison of the individual votes, or by considering the will of the majority of the States as evidence of the will of a majority of the people of the United States. Neither of these rules have been adopted. Each State, in ratifying the Constitution, is considered as a sovereign body, independent of all others, and only to be bound by its own voluntary act. In this relation, then, the new Constitution will, if established, be a FEDERAL, and not a NATIONAL constitution. The next relation is, to the sources from which the ordinary powers of government are to be derived. The House of Representatives will derive its powers from the people of America; and the people will be represented in the same proportion, and on the same principle, as they are in the legislature of a particular State. So far the government is NATIONAL, not FEDERAL. The Senate, on the other hand, will derive its powers from the States, as political and coequal societies; and these will be represented on the principle of equality in the Senate, as they now are in the existing Congress. So far the government is FEDERAL, not NATIONAL. The executive power will be derived from a very compound source. The immediate election of the President is to be made by the States in their political characters. The votes allotted to them are in a compound ratio, which considers them partly as distinct and coequal societies, partly as unequal members of the same society. The eventual election, again, is to be made by that branch of the legislature which consists of the national representatives; but in this particular act they are to be thrown into the form of individual delegations, from so many distinct and coequal bodies politic. From this aspect of the government it appears to be of a mixed character, presenting at least as many FEDERAL as NATIONAL features. The difference between a federal and national government, as it relates to the OPERATION OF THE GOVERNMENT, is supposed to consist in this, that in the former the powers operate on the political bodies composing the Confederacy, in their political capacities; in the latter, on the individual citizens composing the nation, in their individual capacities. On trying the Constitution by this criterion, it falls under the NATIONAL, not the FEDERAL character; though perhaps not so completely as has been understood. In several cases, and particularly in the trial of controversies to which States may be parties, they must be viewed and proceeded against in their collective and political capacities only. So far the national countenance of the government on this side seems to be disfigured by a few federal features. But this blemish is perhaps unavoidable in any plan; and the operation of the government on the people, in their individual capacities, in its ordinary and most essential proceedings, may, on the whole, designate it, in this relation, a NATIONAL government. But if the government be national with regard to the OPERATION of its powers, it changes its aspect again when we contemplate it in relation to the EXTENT of its powers. The idea of a national government involves in it, not only an authority over the individual citizens, but an indefinite supremacy over all persons and things, so far as they are objects of lawful government. Among a people consolidated into one nation, this supremacy is completely vested in the national legislature. Among communities united for particular purposes, it is vested partly in the general and partly in the municipal legislatures. In the former case, all local authorities are subordinate to the supreme; and may be controlled, directed, or abolished by it at pleasure. In the latter, the local or municipal authorities form distinct and independent portions of the supremacy, no more subject, within their respective spheres, to the general authority, than the general authority is subject to them, within its own sphere. In this relation, then, the proposed government cannot be deemed a NATIONAL one; since its jurisdiction extends to certain enumerated objects only, and leaves to the several States a residuary and inviolable sovereignty over all other objects. It is true that in controversies relating to the boundary between the two jurisdictions, the tribunal which is ultimately to decide, is to be established under the general government. But this does not change the principle of the case. The decision is to be impartially made, according to the rules of the Constitution; and all the usual and most effectual precautions are taken to secure this impartiality. Some such tribunal is clearly essential to prevent an appeal to the sword and a dissolution of the compact; and that it ought to be established under the general rather than under the local governments, or, to speak more properly, that it could be safely established under the first alone, is a position not likely to be combated. If we try the Constitution by its last relation to the authority by which amendments are to be made, we find it neither wholly NATIONAL nor wholly FEDERAL. Were it wholly national, the supreme and ultimate authority would reside in the MAJORITY of the people of the Union; and this authority would be competent at all times, like that of a majority of every national society, to alter or abolish its established government. Were it wholly federal, on the other hand, the concurrence of each State in the Union would be essential to every alteration that would be binding on all. The mode provided by the plan of the convention is not founded on either of these principles. In requiring more than a majority, and principles. In requiring more than a majority, and particularly in computing the proportion by STATES, not by CITIZENS, it departs from the NATIONAL and advances towards the FEDERAL character; in rendering the concurrence of less than the whole number of States sufficient, it loses again the FEDERAL and partakes of the NATIONAL character. The proposed Constitution, therefore, is, in strictness, neither a national nor a federal Constitution, but a composition of both. In its foundation it is federal, not national; in the sources from which the ordinary powers of the government are drawn, it is partly federal and partly national; in the operation of these powers, it is national, not federal; in the extent of them, again, it is federal, not national; and, finally, in the authoritative mode of introducing amendments, it is neither wholly federal nor wholly national. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 40 On the Powers of the Convention to Form a Mixed Government Examined and Sustained For the New York Packet. Friday, January 18, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE SECOND point to be examined is, whether the convention were authorized to frame and propose this mixed Constitution. The powers of the convention ought, in strictness, to be determined by an inspection of the commissions given to the members by their respective constituents. As all of these, however, had reference, either to the recommendation from the meeting at Annapolis, in September, 1786, or to that from Congress, in February, 1787, it will be sufficient to recur to these particular acts. The act from Annapolis recommends the \"appointment of commissioners to take into consideration the situation of the United States; to devise SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS as shall appear to them necessary to render the Constitution of the federal government ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF THE UNION; and to report such an act for that purpose, to the United States in Congress assembled, as when agreed to by them, and afterwards confirmed by the legislature of every State, will effectually provide for the same.\" The recommendatory act of Congress is in the words following: \"WHEREAS, There is provision in the articles of Confederation and perpetual Union, for making alterations therein, by the assent of a Congress of the United States, and of the legislatures of the several States; and whereas experience hath evinced, that there are defects in the present Confederation; as a mean to remedy which, several of the States, and PARTICULARLY THE STATE OF NEW YORK, by express instructions to their delegates in Congress, have suggested a convention for the purposes expressed in the following resolution; and such convention appearing to be the most probable mean of establishing in these States A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT: \"Resolved, That in the opinion of Congress it is expedient, that on the second Monday of May next a convention of delegates, who shall have been appointed by the several States, be held at Philadelphia, for the sole and express purpose OF REVISING THE ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, and reporting to Congress and the several legislatures such ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS THEREIN, as shall, when agreed to in Congress, and confirmed by the States, render the federal Constitution ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT AND THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION.\" From these two acts, it appears, 1st, that the object of the convention was to establish, in these States, A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT; 2d, that this government was to be such as would be ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT and THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION; 3d, that these purposes were to be effected by ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS IN THE ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, as it is expressed in the act of Congress, or by SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS AS SHOULD APPEAR NECESSARY, as it stands in the recommendatory act from Annapolis; 4th, that the alterations and provisions were to be reported to Congress, and to the States, in order to be agreed to by the former and confirmed by the latter. From a comparison and fair construction of these several modes of expression, is to be deduced the authority under which the convention acted. They were to frame a NATIONAL GOVERNMENT, adequate to the EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT, and OF THE UNION; and to reduce the articles of Confederation into such form as to accomplish these purposes. There are two rules of construction, dictated by plain reason, as well as founded on legal axioms. The one is, that every part of the expression ought, if possible, to be allowed some meaning, and be made to conspire to some common end. The other is, that where the several parts cannot be made to coincide, the less important should give way to the more important part; the means should be sacrificed to the end, rather than the end to the means. Suppose, then, that the expressions defining the authority of the convention were irreconcilably at variance with each other; that a NATIONAL and ADEQUATE GOVERNMENT could not possibly, in the judgment of the convention, be affected by ALTERATIONS and PROVISIONS in the ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION; which part of the definition ought to have been embraced, and which rejected? Which was the more important, which the less important part? Which the end; which the means? Let the most scrupulous expositors of delegated powers; let the most inveterate objectors against those exercised by the convention, answer these questions. Let them declare, whether it was of most importance to the happiness of the people of America, that the articles of Confederation should be disregarded, and an adequate government be provided, and the Union preserved; or that an adequate government should be omitted, and the articles of Confederation preserved. Let them declare, whether the preservation of these articles was the end, for securing which a reform of the government was to be introduced as the means; or whether the establishment of a government, adequate to the national happiness, was the end at which these articles themselves originally aimed, and to which they ought, as insufficient means, to have been sacrificed. But is it necessary to suppose that these expressions are absolutely irreconcilable to each other; that no ALTERATIONS or PROVISIONS in the articles of the confederation could possibly mould them into a national and adequate government; into such a government as has been proposed by the convention? No stress, it is presumed, will, in this case, be laid on the TITLE; a change of that could never be deemed an exercise of ungranted power. ALTERATIONS in the body of the instrument are expressly authorized. NEW PROVISIONS therein are also expressly authorized. Here then is a power to change the title; to insert new articles; to alter old ones. Must it of necessity be admitted that this power is infringed, so long as a part of the old articles remain? Those who maintain the affirmative ought at least to mark the boundary between authorized and usurped innovations; between that degree of change which lies within the compass of ALTERATIONS AND FURTHER PROVISIONS, and that which amounts to a TRANSMUTATION of the government. Will it be said that the alterations ought not to have touched the substance of the Confederation? The States would never have appointed a convention with so much solemnity, nor described its objects with so much latitude, if some SUBSTANTIAL reform had not been in contemplation. Will it be said that the FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES of the Confederation were not within the purview of the convention, and ought not to have been varied? I ask, What are these principles? Do they require that, in the establishment of the Constitution, the States should be regarded as distinct and independent sovereigns? They are so regarded by the Constitution proposed. Do they require that the members of the government should derive their appointment from the legislatures, not from the people of the States? One branch of the new government is to be appointed by these legislatures; and under the Confederation, the delegates to Congress MAY ALL be appointed immediately by the people, and in two States(1) are actually so appointed. Do they require that the powers of the government should act on the States, and not immediately on individuals? In some instances, as has been shown, the powers of the new government will act on the States in their collective characters. In some instances, also, those of the existing government act immediately on individuals. In cases of capture; of piracy; of the post office; of coins, weights, and measures; of trade with the Indians; of claims under grants of land by different States; and, above all, in the case of trials by courtsmarshal in the army and navy, by which death may be inflicted without the intervention of a jury, or even of a civil magistrate; in all these cases the powers of the Confederation operate immediately on the persons and interests of individual citizens. Do these fundamental principles require, particularly, that no tax should be levied without the intermediate agency of the States? The Confederation itself authorizes a direct tax, to a certain extent, on the post office. The power of coinage has been so construed by Congress as to levy a tribute immediately from that source also. But pretermitting these instances, was it not an acknowledged object of the convention and the universal expectation of the people, that the regulation of trade should be submitted to the general government in such a form as would render it an immediate source of general revenue? Had not Congress repeatedly recommended this measure as not inconsistent with the fundamental principles of the Confederation? Had not every State but one; had not New York herself, so far complied with the plan of Congress as to recognize the PRINCIPLE of the innovation? Do these principles, in fine, require that the powers of the general government should be limited, and that, beyond this limit, the States should be left in possession of their sovereignty and independence? We have seen that in the new government, as in the old, the general powers are limited; and that the States, in all unenumerated cases, are left in the enjoyment of their sovereign and independent jurisdiction. The truth is, that the great principles of the Constitution proposed by the convention may be considered less as absolutely new, than as the expansion of principles which are found in the articles of Confederation. The misfortune under the latter system has been, that these principles are so feeble and confined as to justify all the charges of inefficiency which have been urged against it, and to require a degree of enlargement which gives to the new system the aspect of an entire transformation of the old. In one particular it is admitted that the convention have departed from the tenor of their commission. Instead of reporting a plan requiring the confirmation OF THE LEGISLATURES OF ALL THE STATES, they have reported a plan which is to be confirmed by the PEOPLE, and may be carried into effect by NINE STATES ONLY. It is worthy of remark that this objection, though the most plausible, has been the least urged in the publications which have swarmed against the convention. The forbearance can only have proceeded from an irresistible conviction of the absurdity of subjecting the fate of twelve States to the perverseness or corruption of a thirteenth; from the example of inflexible opposition given by a MAJORITY of one sixtieth of the people of America to a measure approved and called for by the voice of twelve States, comprising fiftynine sixtieths of the people an example still fresh in the memory and indignation of every citizen who has felt for the wounded honor and prosperity of his country. As this objection, therefore, has been in a manner waived by those who have criticised the powers of the convention, I dismiss it without further observation. The THIRD point to be inquired into is, how far considerations of duty arising out of the case itself could have supplied any defect of regular authority. In the preceding inquiries the powers of the convention have been analyzed and tried with the same rigor, and by the same rules, as if they had been real and final powers for the establishment of a Constitution for the United States. We have seen in what manner they have borne the trial even on that supposition. It is time now to recollect that the powers were merely advisory and recommendatory; that they were so meant by the States, and so understood by the convention; and that the latter have accordingly planned and proposed a Constitution which is to be of no more consequence than the paper on which it is written, unless it be stamped with the approbation of those to whom it is addressed. This reflection places the subject in a point of view altogether different, and will enable us to judge with propriety of the course taken by the convention. Let us view the ground on which the convention stood. It may be collected from their proceedings, that they were deeply and unanimously impressed with the crisis, which had led their country almost with one voice to make so singular and solemn an experiment for correcting the errors of a system by which this crisis had been produced; that they were no less deeply and unanimously convinced that such a reform as they have proposed was absolutely necessary to effect the purposes of their appointment. It could not be unknown to them that the hopes and expectations of the great body of citizens, throughout this great empire, were turned with the keenest anxiety to the event of their deliberations. They had every reason to believe that the contrary sentiments agitated the minds and bosoms of every external and internal foe to the liberty and prosperity of the United States. They had seen in the origin and progress of the experiment, the alacrity with which the PROPOSITION, made by a single State (Virginia), towards a partial amendment of the Confederation, had been attended to and promoted. They had seen the LIBERTY ASSUMED by a VERY FEW deputies from a VERY FEW States, convened at Annapolis, of recommending a great and critical object, wholly foreign to their commission, not only justified by the public opinion, but actually carried into effect by twelve out of the thirteen States. They had seen, in a variety of instances, assumptions by Congress, not only of recommendatory, but of operative, powers, warranted, in the public estimation, by occasions and objects infinitely less urgent than those by which their conduct was to be governed. They must have reflected, that in all great changes of established governments, forms ought to give way to substance; that a rigid adherence in such cases to the former, would render nominal and nugatory the transcendent and precious right of the people to \"abolish or alter their governments as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness,\"(2) since it is impossible for the people spontaneously and universally to move in concert towards their object; and it is therefore essential that such changes be instituted by some INFORMAL AND UNAUTHORIZED PROPOSITIONS, made by some patriotic and respectable citizen or number of citizens. They must have recollected that it was by this irregular and assumed privilege of proposing to the people plans for their safety and happiness, that the States were first united against the danger with which they were threatened by their ancient government; that committees and congresses were formed for concentrating their efforts and defending their rights; and that CONVENTIONS were ELECTED in THE SEVERAL STATES for establishing the constitutions under which they are now governed; nor could it have been forgotten that no little illtimed scruples, no zeal for adhering to ordinary forms, were anywhere seen, except in those who wished to indulge, under these masks, their secret enmity to the substance contended for. They must have borne in mind, that as the plan to be framed and proposed was to be submitted TO THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES, the disapprobation of this supreme authority would destroy it forever; its approbation blot out antecedent errors and irregularities. It might even have occurred to them, that where a disposition to cavil prevailed, their neglect to execute the degree of power vested in them, and still more their recommendation of any measure whatever, not warranted by their commission, would not less excite animadversion, than a recommendation at once of a measure fully commensurate to the national exigencies. Had the convention, under all these impressions, and in the midst of all these considerations, instead of exercising a manly confidence in their country, by whose confidence they had been so peculiarly distinguished, and of pointing out a system capable, in their judgment, of securing its happiness, taken the cold and sullen resolution of disappointing its ardent hopes, of sacrificing substance to forms, of committing the dearest interests of their country to the uncertainties of delay and the hazard of events, let me ask the man who can raise his mind to one elevated conception, who can awaken in his bosom one patriotic emotion, what judgment ought to have been pronounced by the impartial world, by the friends of mankind, by every virtuous citizen, on the conduct and character of this assembly? Or if there be a man whose propensity to condemn is susceptible of no control, let me then ask what sentence he has in reserve for the twelve States who USURPED THE POWER of sending deputies to the convention, a body utterly unknown to their constitutions; for Congress, who recommended the appointment of this body, equally unknown to the Confederation; and for the State of New York, in particular, which first urged and then complied with this unauthorized interposition? But that the objectors may be disarmed of every pretext, it shall be granted for a moment that the convention were neither authorized by their commission, nor justified by circumstances in proposing a Constitution for their country: does it follow that the Constitution ought, for that reason alone, to be rejected? If, according to the noble precept, it be lawful to accept good advice even from an enemy, shall we set the ignoble example of refusing such advice even when it is offered by our friends? The prudent inquiry, in all cases, ought surely to be, not so much FROM WHOM the advice comes, as whether the advice be GOOD. The sum of what has been here advanced and proved is, that the charge against the convention of exceeding their powers, except in one instance little urged by the objectors, has no foundation to support it; that if they had exceeded their powers, they were not only warranted, but required, as the confidential servants of their country, by the circumstances in which they were placed, to exercise the liberty which they assume; and that finally, if they had violated both their powers and their obligations, in proposing a Constitution, this ought nevertheless to be embraced, if it be calculated to accomplish the views and happiness of the people of America. How far this character is due to the Constitution, is the subject under investigation. PUBLIUS 1. Connecticut and Rhode Island. 2. Declaration of Independence. FEDERALIST No. 41 General View of the Powers Conferred by The Constitution For the Independent Journal. Saturday, January 19, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE Constitution proposed by the convention may be considered under two general points of view. The FIRST relates to the sum or quantity of power which it vests in the government, including the restraints imposed on the States. The SECOND, to the particular structure of the government, and the distribution of this power among its several branches. Under the FIRST view of the subject, two important questions arise: 1. Whether any part of the powers transferred to the general government be unnecessary or improper? 2. Whether the entire mass of them be dangerous to the portion of jurisdiction left in the several States? Is the aggregate power of the general government greater than ought to have been vested in it? This is the FIRST question. It cannot have escaped those who have attended with candor to the arguments employed against the extensive powers of the government, that the authors of them have very little considered how far these powers were necessary means of attaining a necessary end. They have chosen rather to dwell on the inconveniences which must be unavoidably blended with all political advantages; and on the possible abuses which must be incident to every power or trust, of which a beneficial use can be made. This method of handling the subject cannot impose on the good sense of the people of America. It may display the subtlety of the writer; it may open a boundless field for rhetoric and declamation; it may inflame the passions of the unthinking, and may confirm the prejudices of the misthinking: but cool and candid people will at once reflect, that the purest of human blessings must have a portion of alloy in them; that the choice must always be made, if not of the lesser evil, at least of the GREATER, not the PERFECT, good; and that in every political institution, a power to advance the public happiness involves a discretion which may be misapplied and abused. They will see, therefore, that in all cases where power is to be conferred, the point first to be decided is, whether such a power be necessary to the public good; as the next will be, in case of an affirmative decision, to guard as effectually as possible against a perversion of the power to the public detriment. That we may form a correct judgment on this subject, it will be proper to review the several powers conferred on the government of the Union; and that this may be the more conveniently done they may be reduced into different classes as they relate to the following different objects: 1. Security against foreign danger; 2. Regulation of the intercourse with foreign nations; 3. Maintenance of harmony and proper intercourse among the States; 4. Certain miscellaneous objects of general utility; 5. Restraint of the States from certain injurious acts; 6. Provisions for giving due efficacy to all these powers. The powers falling within the FIRST class are those of declaring war and granting letters of marque; of providing armies and fleets; of regulating and calling forth the militia; of levying and borrowing money. Security against foreign danger is one of the primitive objects of civil society. It is an avowed and essential object of the American Union. The powers requisite for attaining it must be effectually confided to the federal councils. Is the power of declaring war necessary? No man will answer this question in the negative. It would be superfluous, therefore, to enter into a proof of the affirmative. The existing Confederation establishes this power in the most ample form. Is the power of raising armies and equipping fleets necessary? This is involved in the foregoing power. It is involved in the power of selfdefense. But was it necessary to give an INDEFINITE POWER of raising TROOPS, as well as providing fleets; and of maintaining both in PEACE, as well as in WAR? The answer to these questions has been too far anticipated in another place to admit an extensive discussion of them in this place. The answer indeed seems to be so obvious and conclusive as scarcely to justify such a discussion in any place. With what color of propriety could the force necessary for defense be limited by those who cannot limit the force of offense? If a federal Constitution could chain the ambition or set bounds to the exertions of all other nations, then indeed might it prudently chain the discretion of its own government, and set bounds to the exertions for its own safety. How could a readiness for war in time of peace be safely prohibited, unless we could prohibit, in like manner, the preparations and establishments of every hostile nation? The means of security can only be regulated by the means and the danger of attack. They will, in fact, be ever determined by these rules, and by no others. It is in vain to oppose constitutional barriers to the impulse of selfpreservation. It is worse than in vain; because it plants in the Constitution itself necessary usurpations of power, every precedent of which is a germ of unnecessary and multiplied repetitions. If one nation maintains constantly a disciplined army, ready for the service of ambition or revenge, it obliges the most pacific nations who may be within the reach of its enterprises to take corresponding precautions. The fifteenth century was the unhappy epoch of military establishments in the time of peace. They were introduced by Charles VII. of France. All Europe has followed, or been forced into, the example. Had the example not been followed by other nations, all Europe must long ago have worn the chains of a universal monarch. Were every nation except France now to disband its peace establishments, the same event might follow. The veteran legions of Rome were an overmatch for the undisciplined valor of all other nations and rendered her the mistress of the world. Not the less true is it, that the liberties of Rome proved the final victim to her military triumphs; and that the liberties of Europe, as far as they ever existed, have, with few exceptions, been the price of her military establishments. A standing force, therefore, is a dangerous, at the same time that it may be a necessary, provision. On the smallest scale it has its inconveniences. On an extensive scale its consequences may be fatal. On any scale it is an object of laudable circumspection and precaution. A wise nation will combine all these considerations; and, whilst it does not rashly preclude itself from any resource which may become essential to its safety, will exert all its prudence in diminishing both the necessity and the danger of resorting to one which may be inauspicious to its liberties. The clearest marks of this prudence are stamped on the proposed Constitution. The Union itself, which it cements and secures, destroys every pretext for a military establishment which could be dangerous. America united, with a handful of troops, or without a single soldier, exhibits a more forbidding posture to foreign ambition than America disunited, with a hundred thousand veterans ready for combat. It was remarked, on a former occasion, that the want of this pretext had saved the liberties of one nation in Europe. Being rendered by her insular situation and her maritime resources impregnable to the armies of her neighbors, the rulers of Great Britain have never been able, by real or artificial dangers, to cheat the public into an extensive peace establishment. The distance of the United States from the powerful nations of the world gives them the same happy security. A dangerous establishment can never be necessary or plausible, so long as they continue a united people. But let it never, for a moment, be forgotten that they are indebted for this advantage to the Union alone. The moment of its dissolution will be the date of a new order of things. The fears of the weaker, or the ambition of the stronger States, or Confederacies, will set the same example in the New, as Charles VII. did in the Old World. The example will be followed here from the same motives which produced universal imitation there. Instead of deriving from our situation the precious advantage which Great Britain has derived from hers, the face of America will be but a copy of that of the continent of Europe. It will present liberty everywhere crushed between standing armies and perpetual taxes. The fortunes of disunited America will be even more disastrous than those of Europe. The sources of evil in the latter are confined to her own limits. No superior powers of another quarter of the globe intrigue among her rival nations, inflame their mutual animosities, and render them the instruments of foreign ambition, jealousy, and revenge. In America the miseries springing from her internal jealousies, contentions, and wars, would form a part only of her lot. A plentiful addition of evils would have their source in that relation in which Europe stands to this quarter of the earth, and which no other quarter of the earth bears to Europe. This picture of the consequences of disunion cannot be too highly colored, or too often exhibited. Every man who loves peace, every man who loves his country, every man who loves liberty, ought to have it ever before his eyes, that he may cherish in his heart a due attachment to the Union of America, and be able to set a due value on the means of preserving it. Next to the effectual establishment of the Union, the best possible precaution against danger from standing armies is a limitation of the term for which revenue may be appropriated to their support. This precaution the Constitution has prudently added. I will not repeat here the observations which I flatter myself have placed this subject in a just and satisfactory light. But it may not be improper to take notice of an argument against this part of the Constitution, which has been drawn from the policy and practice of Great Britain. It is said that the continuance of an army in that kingdom requires an annual vote of the legislature; whereas the American Constitution has lengthened this critical period to two years. This is the form in which the comparison is usually stated to the public: but is it a just form? Is it a fair comparison? Does the British Constitution restrain the parliamentary discretion to one year? Does the American impose on the Congress appropriations for two years? On the contrary, it cannot be unknown to the authors of the fallacy themselves, that the British Constitution fixes no limit whatever to the discretion of the legislature, and that the American ties down the legislature to two years, as the longest admissible term. Had the argument from the British example been truly stated, it would have stood thus: The term for which supplies may be appropriated to the army establishment, though unlimited by the British Constitution, has nevertheless, in practice, been limited by parliamentary discretion to a single year. Now, if in Great Britain, where the House of Commons is elected for seven years; where so great a proportion of the members are elected by so small a proportion of the people; where the electors are so corrupted by the representatives, and the representatives so corrupted by the Crown, the representative body can possess a power to make appropriations to the army for an indefinite term, without desiring, or without daring, to extend the term beyond a single year, ought not suspicion herself to blush, in pretending that the representatives of the United States, elected FREELY by the WHOLE BODY of the people, every SECOND YEAR, cannot be safely intrusted with the discretion over such appropriations, expressly limited to the short period of TWO YEARS? A bad cause seldom fails to betray itself. Of this truth, the management of the opposition to the federal government is an unvaried exemplification. But among all the blunders which have been committed, none is more striking than the attempt to enlist on that side the prudent jealousy entertained by the people, of standing armies. The attempt has awakened fully the public attention to that important subject; and has led to investigations which must terminate in a thorough and universal conviction, not only that the constitution has provided the most effectual guards against danger from that quarter, but that nothing short of a Constitution fully adequate to the national defense and the preservation of the Union, can save America from as many standing armies as it may be split into States or Confederacies, and from such a progressive augmentation, of these establishments in each, as will render them as burdensome to the properties and ominous to the liberties of the people, as any establishment that can become necessary, under a united and efficient government, must be tolerable to the former and safe to the latter. The palpable necessity of the power to provide and maintain a navy has protected that part of the Constitution against a spirit of censure, which has spared few other parts. It must, indeed, be numbered among the greatest blessings of America, that as her Union will be the only source of her maritime strength, so this will be a principal source of her security against danger from abroad. In this respect our situation bears another likeness to the insular advantage of Great Britain. The batteries most capable of repelling foreign enterprises on our safety, are happily such as can never be turned by a perfidious government against our liberties. The inhabitants of the Atlantic frontier are all of them deeply interested in this provision for naval protection, and if they have hitherto been suffered to sleep quietly in their beds; if their property has remained safe against the predatory spirit of licentious adventurers; if their maritime towns have not yet been compelled to ransom themselves from the terrors of a conflagration, by yielding to the exactions of daring and sudden invaders, these instances of good fortune are not to be ascribed to the capacity of the existing government for the protection of those from whom it claims allegiance, but to causes that are fugitive and fallacious. If we except perhaps Virginia and Maryland, which are peculiarly vulnerable on their eastern frontiers, no part of the Union ought to feel more anxiety on this subject than New York. Her seacoast is extensive. A very important district of the State is an island. The State itself is penetrated by a large navigable river for more than fifty leagues. The great emporium of its commerce, the great reservoir of its wealth, lies every moment at the mercy of events, and may almost be regarded as a hostage for ignominious compliances with the dictates of a foreign enemy, or even with the rapacious demands of pirates and barbarians. Should a war be the result of the precarious situation of European affairs, and all the unruly passions attending it be let loose on the ocean, our escape from insults and depredations, not only on that element, but every part of the other bordering on it, will be truly miraculous. In the present condition of America, the States more immediately exposed to these calamities have nothing to hope from the phantom of a general government which now exists; and if their single resources were equal to the task of fortifying themselves against the danger, the object to be protected would be almost consumed by the means of protecting them. The power of regulating and calling forth the militia has been already sufficiently vindicated and explained. The power of levying and borrowing money, being the sinew of that which is to be exerted in the national defense, is properly thrown into the same class with it. This power, also, has been examined already with much attention, and has, I trust, been clearly shown to be necessary, both in the extent and form given to it by the Constitution. I will address one additional reflection only to those who contend that the power ought to have been restrained to externaltaxation by which they mean, taxes on articles imported from other countries. It cannot be doubted that this will always be a valuable source of revenue; that for a considerable time it must be a principal source; that at this moment it is an essential one. But we may form very mistaken ideas on this subject, if we do not call to mind in our calculations, that the extent of revenue drawn from foreign commerce must vary with the variations, both in the extent and the kind of imports; and that these variations do not correspond with the progress of population, which must be the general measure of the public wants. As long as agriculture continues the sole field of labor, the importation of manufactures must increase as the consumers multiply. As soon as domestic manufactures are begun by the hands not called for by agriculture, the imported manufactures will decrease as the numbers of people increase. In a more remote stage, the imports may consist in a considerable part of raw materials, which will be wrought into articles for exportation, and will, therefore, require rather the encouragement of bounties, than to be loaded with discouraging duties. A system of government, meant for duration, ought to contemplate these revolutions, and be able to accommodate itself to them. Some, who have not denied the necessity of the power of taxation, have grounded a very fierce attack against the Constitution, on the language in which it is defined. It has been urged and echoed, that the power \"to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to pay the debts, and provide for the common defense and general welfare of the United States,\" amounts to an unlimited commission to exercise every power which may be alleged to be necessary for the common defense or general welfare. No stronger proof could be given of the distress under which these writers labor for objections, than their stooping to such a misconstruction. Had no other enumeration or definition of the powers of the Congress been found in the Constitution, than the general expressions just cited, the authors of the objection might have had some color for it; though it would have been difficult to find a reason for so awkward a form of describing an authority to legislate in all possible cases. A power to destroy the freedom of the press, the trial by jury, or even to regulate the course of descents, or the forms of conveyances, must be very singularly expressed by the terms \"to raise money for the general welfare.\" But what color can the objection have, when a specification of the objects alluded to by these general terms immediately follows, and is not even separated by a longer pause than a semicolon? If the different parts of the same instrument ought to be so expounded, as to give meaning to every part which will bear it, shall one part of the same sentence be excluded altogether from a share in the meaning; and shall the more doubtful and indefinite terms be retained in their full extent, and the clear and precise expressions be denied any signification whatsoever? For what purpose could the enumeration of particular powers be inserted, if these and all others were meant to be included in the preceding general power? Nothing is more natural nor common than first to use a general phrase, and then to explain and qualify it by a recital of particulars. But the idea of an enumeration of particulars which neither explain nor qualify the general meaning, and can have no other effect than to confound and mislead, is an absurdity, which, as we are reduced to the dilemma of charging either on the authors of the objection or on the authors of the Constitution, we must take the liberty of supposing, had not its origin with the latter. The objection here is the more extraordinary, as it appears that the language used by the convention is a copy from the articles of Confederation. The objects of the Union among the States, as described in article third, are \"their common defense, security of their liberties, and mutual and general welfare.\" The terms of article eighth are still more identical: \"All charges of war and all other expenses that shall be incurred for the common defense or general welfare, and allowed by the United States in Congress, shall be defrayed out of a common treasury,\" etc. A similar language again occurs in article ninth. Construe either of these articles by the rules which would justify the construction put on the new Constitution, and they vest in the existing Congress a power to legislate in all cases whatsoever. But what would have been thought of that assembly, if, attaching themselves to these general expressions, and disregarding the specifications which ascertain and limit their import, they had exercised an unlimited power of providing for the common defense and general welfare? I appeal to the objectors themselves, whether they would in that case have employed the same reasoning in justification of Congress as they now make use of against the convention. How difficult it is for error to escape its own condemnation! PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 42 The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 22, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE SECOND class of powers, lodged in the general government, consists of those which regulate the intercourse with foreign nations, to wit: to make treaties; to send and receive ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to define and punish piracies and felonies committed on the high seas, and offenses against the law of nations; to regulate foreign commerce, including a power to prohibit, after the year 1808, the importation of slaves, and to lay an intermediate duty of ten dollars per head, as a discouragement to such importations. This class of powers forms an obvious and essential branch of the federal administration. If we are to be one nation in any respect, it clearly ought to be in respect to other nations. The powers to make treaties and to send and receive ambassadors, speak their own propriety. Both of them are comprised in the articles of Confederation, with this difference only, that the former is disembarrassed, by the plan of the convention, of an exception, under which treaties might be substantially frustrated by regulations of the States; and that a power of appointing and receiving \"other public ministers and consuls,\" is expressly and very properly added to the former provision concerning ambassadors. The term ambassador, if taken strictly, as seems to be required by the second of the articles of Confederation, comprehends the highest grade only of public ministers, and excludes the grades which the United States will be most likely to prefer, where foreign embassies may be necessary. And under no latitude of construction will the term comprehend consuls. Yet it has been found expedient, and has been the practice of Congress, to employ the inferior grades of public ministers, and to send and receive consuls. It is true, that where treaties of commerce stipulate for the mutual appointment of consuls, whose functions are connected with commerce, the admission of foreign consuls may fall within the power of making commercial treaties; and that where no such treaties exist, the mission of American consuls into foreign countries may PERHAPS be covered under the authority, given by the ninth article of the Confederation, to appoint all such civil officers as may be necessary for managing the general affairs of the United States. But the admission of consuls into the United States, where no previous treaty has stipulated it, seems to have been nowhere provided for. A supply of the omission is one of the lesser instances in which the convention have improved on the model before them. But the most minute provisions become important when they tend to obviate the necessity or the pretext for gradual and unobserved usurpations of power. A list of the cases in which Congress have been betrayed, or forced by the defects of the Confederation, into violations of their chartered authorities, would not a little surprise those who have paid no attention to the subject; and would be no inconsiderable argument in favor of the new Constitution, which seems to have provided no less studiously for the lesser, than the more obvious and striking defects of the old. The power to define and punish piracies and felonies committed on the high seas, and offenses against the law of nations, belongs with equal propriety to the general government, and is a still greater improvement on the articles of Confederation. These articles contain no provision for the case of offenses against the law of nations; and consequently leave it in the power of any indiscreet member to embroil the Confederacy with foreign nations. The provision of the federal articles on the subject of piracies and felonies extends no further than to the establishment of courts for the trial of these offenses. The definition of piracies might, perhaps, without inconveniency, be left to the law of nations; though a legislative definition of them is found in most municipal codes. A definition of felonies on the high seas is evidently requisite. Felony is a term of loose signification, even in the common law of England; and of various import in the statute law of that kingdom. But neither the common nor the statute law of that, or of any other nation, ought to be a standard for the proceedings of this, unless previously made its own by legislative adoption. The meaning of the term, as defined in the codes of the several States, would be as impracticable as the former would be a dishonorable and illegitimate guide. It is not precisely the same in any two of the States; and varies in each with every revision of its criminal laws. For the sake of certainty and uniformity, therefore, the power of defining felonies in this case was in every respect necessary and proper. The regulation of foreign commerce, having fallen within several views which have been taken of this subject, has been too fully discussed to need additional proofs here of its being properly submitted to the federal administration. It were doubtless to be wished, that the power of prohibiting the importation of slaves had not been postponed until the year 1808, or rather that it had been suffered to have immediate operation. But it is not difficult to account, either for this restriction on the general government, or for the manner in which the whole clause is expressed. It ought to be considered as a great point gained in favor of humanity, that a period of twenty years may terminate forever, within these States, a traffic which has so long and so loudly upbraided the barbarism of modern policy; that within that period, it will receive a considerable discouragement from the federal government, and may be totally abolished, by a concurrence of the few States which continue the unnatural traffic, in the prohibitory example which has been given by so great a majority of the Union. Happy would it be for the unfortunate Africans, if an equal prospect lay before them of being redeemed from the oppressions of their European brethren! Attempts have been made to pervert this clause into an objection against the Constitution, by representing it on one side as a criminal toleration of an illicit practice, and on another as calculated to prevent voluntary and beneficial emigrations from Europe to America. I mention these misconstructions, not with a view to give them an answer, for they deserve none, but as specimens of the manner and spirit in which some have thought fit to conduct their opposition to the proposed government. The powers included in the THIRD class are those which provide for the harmony and proper intercourse among the States. Under this head might be included the particular restraints imposed on the authority of the States, and certain powers of the judicial department; but the former are reserved for a distinct class, and the latter will be particularly examined when we arrive at the structure and organization of the government. I shall confine myself to a cursory review of the remaining powers comprehended under this third description, to wit: to regulate commerce among the several States and the Indian tribes; to coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign coin; to provide for the punishment of counterfeiting the current coin and securities of the United States; to fix the standard of weights and measures; to establish a uniform rule of naturalization, and uniform laws of bankruptcy, to prescribe the manner in which the public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, and the effect they shall have in other States; and to establish post offices and post roads. The defect of power in the existing Confederacy to regulate the commerce between its several members, is in the number of those which have been clearly pointed out by experience. To the proofs and remarks which former papers have brought into view on this subject, it may be added that without this supplemental provision, the great and essential power of regulating foreign commerce would have been incomplete and ineffectual. A very material object of this power was the relief of the States which import and export through other States, from the improper contributions levied on them by the latter. Were these at liberty to regulate the trade between State and State, it must be foreseen that ways would be found out to load the articles of import and export, during the passage through their jurisdiction, with duties which would fall on the makers of the latter and the consumers of the former. We may be assured by past experience, that such a practice would be introduced by future contrivances; and both by that and a common knowledge of human affairs, that it would nourish unceasing animosities, and not improbably terminate in serious interruptions of the public tranquillity. To those who do not view the question through the medium of passion or of interest, the desire of the commercial States to collect, in any form, an indirect revenue from their uncommercial neighbors, must appear not less impolitic than it is unfair; since it would stimulate the injured party, by resentment as well as interest, to resort to less convenient channels for their foreign trade. But the mild voice of reason, pleading the cause of an enlarged and permanent interest, is but too often drowned, before public bodies as well as individuals, by the clamors of an impatient avidity for immediate and immoderate gain. The necessity of a superintending authority over the reciprocal trade of confederated States, has been illustrated by other examples as well as our own. In Switzerland, where the Union is so very slight, each canton is obliged to allow to merchandises a passage through its jurisdiction into other cantons, without an augmentation of the tolls. In Germany it is a law of the empire, that the princes and states shall not lay tolls or customs on bridges, rivers, or passages, without the consent of the emperor and the diet; though it appears from a quotation in an antecedent paper, that the practice in this, as in many other instances in that confederacy, has not followed the law, and has produced there the mischiefs which have been foreseen here. Among the restraints imposed by the Union of the Netherlands on its members, one is, that they shall not establish imposts disadvantageous to their neighbors, without the general permission. The regulation of commerce with the Indian tribes is very properly unfettered from two limitations in the articles of Confederation, which render the provision obscure and contradictory. The power is there restrained to Indians, not members of any of the States, and is not to violate or infringe the legislative right of any State within its own limits. What description of Indians are to be deemed members of a State, is not yet settled, and has been a question of frequent perplexity and contention in the federal councils. And how the trade with Indians, though not members of a State, yet residing within its legislative jurisdiction, can be regulated by an external authority, without so far intruding on the internal rights of legislation, is absolutely incomprehensible. This is not the only case in which the articles of Confederation have inconsiderately endeavored to accomplish impossibilities; to reconcile a partial sovereignty in the Union, with complete sovereignty in the States; to subvert a mathematical axiom, by taking away a part, and letting the whole remain. All that need be remarked on the power to coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign coin, is, that by providing for this last case, the Constitution has supplied a material omission in the articles of Confederation. The authority of the existing Congress is restrained to the regulation of coin STRUCK by their own authority, or that of the respective States. It must be seen at once that the proposed uniformity in the VALUE of the current coin might be destroyed by subjecting that of foreign coin to the different regulations of the different States. The punishment of counterfeiting the public securities, as well as the current coin, is submitted of course to that authority which is to secure the value of both. The regulation of weights and measures is transferred from the articles of Confederation, and is founded on like considerations with the preceding power of regulating coin. The dissimilarity in the rules of naturalization has long been remarked as a fault in our system, and as laying a foundation for intricate and delicate questions. In the fourth article of the Confederation, it is declared \"that the FREE INHABITANTS of each of these States, paupers, vagabonds, and fugitives from justice, excepted, shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of FREE CITIZENS in the several States; and THE PEOPLE of each State shall, in every other, enjoy all the privileges of trade and commerce,\" etc. There is a confusion of language here, which is remarkable. Why the terms FREE INHABITANTS are used in one part of the article, FREE CITIZENS in another, and PEOPLE in another; or what was meant by superadding to \"all privileges and immunities of free citizens,\" \"all the privileges of trade and commerce,\" cannot easily be determined. It seems to be a construction scarcely avoidable, however, that those who come under the denomination of FREE INHABITANTS of a State, although not citizens of such State, are entitled, in every other State, to all the privileges of FREE CITIZENS of the latter; that is, to greater privileges than they may be entitled to in their own State: so that it may be in the power of a particular State, or rather every State is laid under a necessity, not only to confer the rights of citizenship in other States upon any whom it may admit to such rights within itself, but upon any whom it may allow to become inhabitants within its jurisdiction. But were an exposition of the term \"inhabitants\" to be admitted which would confine the stipulated privileges to citizens alone, the difficulty is diminished only, not removed. The very improper power would still be retained by each State, of naturalizing aliens in every other State. In one State, residence for a short term confirms all the rights of citizenship: in another, qualifications of greater importance are required. An alien, therefore, legally incapacitated for certain rights in the latter, may, by previous residence only in the former, elude his incapacity; and thus the law of one State be preposterously rendered paramount to the law of another, within the jurisdiction of the other. We owe it to mere casualty, that very serious embarrassments on this subject have been hitherto escaped. By the laws of several States, certain descriptions of aliens, who had rendered themselves obnoxious, were laid under interdicts inconsistent not only with the rights of citizenship but with the privilege of residence. What would have been the consequence, if such persons, by residence or otherwise, had acquired the character of citizens under the laws of another State, and then asserted their rights as such, both to residence and citizenship, within the State proscribing them? Whatever the legal consequences might have been, other consequences would probably have resulted, of too serious a nature not to be provided against. The new Constitution has accordingly, with great propriety, made provision against them, and all others proceeding from the defect of the Confederation on this head, by authorizing the general government to establish a uniform rule of naturalization throughout the United States. The power of establishing uniform laws of bankruptcy is so intimately connected with the regulation of commerce, and will prevent so many frauds where the parties or their property may lie or be removed into different States, that the expediency of it seems not likely to be drawn into question. The power of prescribing by general laws, the manner in which the public acts, records and judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, and the effect they shall have in other States, is an evident and valuable improvement on the clause relating to this subject in the articles of Confederation. The meaning of the latter is extremely indeterminate, and can be of little importance under any interpretation which it will bear. The power here established may be rendered a very convenient instrument of justice, and be particularly beneficial on the borders of contiguous States, where the effects liable to justice may be suddenly and secretly translated, in any stage of the process, within a foreign jurisdiction. The power of establishing post roads must, in every view, be a harmless power, and may, perhaps, by judicious management, become productive of great public conveniency. Nothing which tends to facilitate the intercourse between the States can be deemed unworthy of the public care. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 43 The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered) For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, January 23, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE FOURTH class comprises the following miscellaneous powers: 1. A power \"to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing, for a limited time, to authors and inventors, the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries.\" The utility of this power will scarcely be questioned. The copyright of authors has been solemnly adjudged, in Great Britain, to be a right of common law. The right to useful inventions seems with equal reason to belong to the inventors. The public good fully coincides in both cases with the claims of individuals. The States cannot separately make effectual provisions for either of the cases, and most of them have anticipated the decision of this point, by laws passed at the instance of Congress. 2. \"To exercise exclusive legislation, in all cases whatsoever, over such district (not exceeding ten miles square) as may, by cession of particular States and the acceptance of Congress, become the seat of the government of the United States; and to exercise like authority over all places purchased by the consent of the legislatures of the States in which the same shall be, for the erection of forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards, and other needful buildings.\" The indispensable necessity of complete authority at the seat of government, carries its own evidence with it. It is a power exercised by every legislature of the Union, I might say of the world, by virtue of its general supremacy. Without it, not only the public authority might be insulted and its proceedings interrupted with impunity; but a dependence of the members of the general government on the State comprehending the seat of the government, for protection in the exercise of their duty, might bring on the national councils an imputation of awe or influence, equally dishonorable to the government and dissatisfactory to the other members of the Confederacy. This consideration has the more weight, as the gradual accumulation of public improvements at the stationary residence of the government would be both too great a public pledge to be left in the hands of a single State, and would create so many obstacles to a removal of the government, as still further to abridge its necessary independence. The extent of this federal district is sufficiently circumscribed to satisfy every jealousy of an opposite nature. And as it is to be appropriated to this use with the consent of the State ceding it; as the State will no doubt provide in the compact for the rights and the consent of the citizens inhabiting it; as the inhabitants will find sufficient inducements of interest to become willing parties to the cession; as they will have had their voice in the election of the government which is to exercise authority over them; as a municipal legislature for local purposes, derived from their own suffrages, will of course be allowed them; and as the authority of the legislature of the State, and of the inhabitants of the ceded part of it, to concur in the cession, will be derived from the whole people of the State in their adoption of the Constitution, every imaginable objection seems to be obviated. The necessity of a like authority over forts, magazines, etc., established by the general government, is not less evident. The public money expended on such places, and the public property deposited in them, requires that they should be exempt from the authority of the particular State. Nor would it be proper for the places on which the security of the entire Union may depend, to be in any degree dependent on a particular member of it. All objections and scruples are here also obviated, by requiring the concurrence of the States concerned, in every such establishment. 3. \"To declare the punishment of treason, but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of blood, or forfeiture, except during the life of the person attained.\" As treason may be committed against the United States, the authority of the United States ought to be enabled to punish it. But as newfangled and artificial treasons have been the great engines by which violent factions, the natural offspring of free government, have usually wreaked their alternate malignity on each other, the convention have, with great judgment, opposed a barrier to this peculiar danger, by inserting a constitutional definition of the crime, fixing the proof necessary for conviction of it, and restraining the Congress, even in punishing it, from extending the consequences of guilt beyond the person of its author. 4. \"To admit new States into the Union; but no new State shall be formed or erected within the jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the junction of two or more States, or parts of States, without the consent of the legislatures of the States concerned, as well as of the Congress.\" In the articles of Confederation, no provision is found on this important subject. Canada was to be admitted of right, on her joining in the measures of the United States; and the other COLONIES, by which were evidently meant the other British colonies, at the discretion of nine States. The eventual establishment of NEW STATES seems to have been overlooked by the compilers of that instrument. We have seen the inconvenience of this omission, and the assumption of power into which Congress have been led by it. With great propriety, therefore, has the new system supplied the defect. The general precaution, that no new States shall be formed, without the concurrence of the federal authority, and that of the States concerned, is consonant to the principles which ought to govern such transactions. The particular precaution against the erection of new States, by the partition of a State without its consent, quiets the jealousy of the larger States; as that of the smaller is quieted by a like precaution, against a junction of States without their consent. 5. \"To dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States,\" with a proviso, that \"nothing in the Constitution shall be so construed as to prejudice any claims of the United States, or of any particular State.\" This is a power of very great importance, and required by considerations similar to those which show the propriety of the former. The proviso annexed is proper in itself, and was probably rendered absolutely necessary by jealousies and questions concerning the Western territory sufficiently known to the public. 6. \"To guarantee to every State in the Union a republican form of government; to protect each of them against invasion; and on application of the legislature, or of the executive (when the legislature cannot be convened), against domestic violence.\" In a confederacy founded on republican principles, and composed of republican members, the superintending government ought clearly to possess authority to defend the system against aristocratic or monarchial innovations. The more intimate the nature of such a union may be, the greater interest have the members in the political institutions of each other; and the greater right to insist that the forms of government under which the compact was entered into should be SUBSTANTIALLY maintained. But a right implies a remedy; and where else could the remedy be deposited, than where it is deposited by the Constitution? Governments of dissimilar principles and forms have been found less adapted to a federal coalition of any sort, than those of a kindred nature. \"As the confederate republic of Germany,\" says Montesquieu, \"consists of free cities and petty states, subject to different princes, experience shows us that it is more imperfect than that of Holland and Switzerland.\" \"Greece was undone,\" he adds, \"as soon as the king of Macedon obtained a seat among the Amphictyons.\" In the latter case, no doubt, the disproportionate force, as well as the monarchical form, of the new confederate, had its share of influence on the events. It may possibly be asked, what need there could be of such a precaution, and whether it may not become a pretext for alterations in the State governments, without the concurrence of the States themselves. These questions admit of ready answers. If the interposition of the general government should not be needed, the provision for such an event will be a harmless superfluity only in the Constitution. But who can say what experiments may be produced by the caprice of particular States, by the ambition of enterprising leaders, or by the intrigues and influence of foreign powers? To the second question it may be answered, that if the general government should interpose by virtue of this constitutional authority, it will be, of course, bound to pursue the authority. But the authority extends no further than to a GUARANTY of a republican form of government, which supposes a preexisting government of the form which is to be guaranteed. As long, therefore, as the existing republican forms are continued by the States, they are guaranteed by the federal Constitution. Whenever the States may choose to substitute other republican forms, they have a right to do so, and to claim the federal guaranty for the latter. The only restriction imposed on them is, that they shall not exchange republican for antirepublican Constitutions; a restriction which, it is presumed, will hardly be considered as a grievance. A protection against invasion is due from every society to the parts composing it. The latitude of the expression here used seems to secure each State, not only against foreign hostility, but against ambitious or vindictive enterprises of its more powerful neighbors. The history, both of ancient and modern confederacies, proves that the weaker members of the union ought not to be insensible to the policy of this article. Protection against domestic violence is added with equal propriety. It has been remarked, that even among the Swiss cantons, which, properly speaking, are not under one government, provision is made for this object; and the history of that league informs us that mutual aid is frequently claimed and afforded; and as well by the most democratic, as the other cantons. A recent and wellknown event among ourselves has warned us to be prepared for emergencies of a like nature. At first view, it might seem not to square with the republican theory, to suppose, either that a majority have not the right, or that a minority will have the force, to subvert a government; and consequently, that the federal interposition can never be required, but when it would be improper. But theoretic reasoning, in this as in most other cases, must be qualified by the lessons of practice. Why may not illicit combinations, for purposes of violence, be formed as well by a majority of a State, especially a small State as by a majority of a county, or a district of the same State; and if the authority of the State ought, in the latter case, to protect the local magistracy, ought not the federal authority, in the former, to support the State authority? Besides, there are certain parts of the State constitutions which are so interwoven with the federal Constitution, that a violent blow cannot be given to the one without communicating the wound to the other. Insurrections in a State will rarely induce a federal interposition, unless the number concerned in them bear some proportion to the friends of government. It will be much better that the violence in such cases should be repressed by the superintending power, than that the majority should be left to maintain their cause by a bloody and obstinate contest. The existence of a right to interpose, will generally prevent the necessity of exerting it. Is it true that force and right are necessarily on the same side in republican governments? May not the minor party possess such a superiority of pecuniary resources, of military talents and experience, or of secret succors from foreign powers, as will render it superior also in an appeal to the sword? May not a more compact and advantageous position turn the scale on the same side, against a superior number so situated as to be less capable of a prompt and collected exertion of its strength? Nothing can be more chimerical than to imagine that in a trial of actual force, victory may be calculated by the rules which prevail in a census of the inhabitants, or which determine the event of an election! May it not happen, in fine, that the minority of CITIZENS may become a majority of PERSONS, by the accession of alien residents, of a casual concourse of adventurers, or of those whom the constitution of the State has not admitted to the rights of suffrage? I take no notice of an unhappy species of population abounding in some of the States, who, during the calm of regular government, are sunk below the level of men; but who, in the tempestuous scenes of civil violence, may emerge into the human character, and give a superiority of strength to any party with which they may associate themselves. In cases where it may be doubtful on which side justice lies, what better umpires could be desired by two violent factions, flying to arms, and tearing a State to pieces, than the representatives of confederate States, not heated by the local flame? To the impartiality of judges, they would unite the affection of friends. Happy would it be if such a remedy for its infirmities could be enjoyed by all free governments; if a project equally effectual could be established for the universal peace of mankind! Should it be asked, what is to be the redress for an insurrection pervading all the States, and comprising a superiority of the entire force, though not a constitutional right? the answer must be, that such a case, as it would be without the compass of human remedies, so it is fortunately not within the compass of human probability; and that it is a sufficient recommendation of the federal Constitution, that it diminishes the risk of a calamity for which no possible constitution can provide a cure. Among the advantages of a confederate republic enumerated by Montesquieu, an important one is, \"that should a popular insurrection happen in one of the States, the others are able to quell it. Should abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound.\" 7. \"To consider all debts contracted, and engagements entered into, before the adoption of this Constitution, as being no less valid against the United States, under this Constitution, than under the Confederation.\" This can only be considered as a declaratory proposition; and may have been inserted, among other reasons, for the satisfaction of the foreign creditors of the United States, who cannot be strangers to the pretended doctrine, that a change in the political form of civil society has the magical effect of dissolving its moral obligations. Among the lesser criticisms which have been exercised on the Constitution, it has been remarked that the validity of engagements ought to have been asserted in favor of the United States, as well as against them; and in the spirit which usually characterizes little critics, the omission has been transformed and magnified into a plot against the national rights. The authors of this discovery may be told, what few others need to be informed of, that as engagements are in their nature reciprocal, an assertion of their validity on one side, necessarily involves a validity on the other side; and that as the article is merely declaratory, the establishment of the principle in one case is sufficient for every case. They may be further told, that every constitution must limit its precautions to dangers that are not altogether imaginary; and that no real danger can exist that the government would DARE, with, or even without, this constitutional declaration before it, to remit the debts justly due to the public, on the pretext here condemned. 8. \"To provide for amendments to be ratified by three fourths of the States under two exceptions only.\" That useful alterations will be suggested by experience, could not but be foreseen. It was requisite, therefore, that a mode for introducing them should be provided. The mode preferred by the convention seems to be stamped with every mark of propriety. It guards equally against that extreme facility, which would render the Constitution too mutable; and that extreme difficulty, which might perpetuate its discovered faults. It, moreover, equally enables the general and the State governments to originate the amendment of errors, as they may be pointed out by the experience on one side, or on the other. The exception in favor of the equality of suffrage in the Senate, was probably meant as a palladium to the residuary sovereignty of the States, implied and secured by that principle of representation in one branch of the legislature; and was probably insisted on by the States particularly attached to that equality. The other exception must have been admitted on the same considerations which produced the privilege defended by it. 9. \"The ratification of the conventions of nine States shall be sufficient for the establishment of this Constitution between the States, ratifying the same.\" This article speaks for itself. The express authority of the people alone could give due validity to the Constitution. To have required the unanimous ratification of the thirteen States, would have subjected the essential interests of the whole to the caprice or corruption of a single member. It would have marked a want of foresight in the convention, which our own experience would have rendered inexcusable. Two questions of a very delicate nature present themselves on this occasion: 1. On what principle the Confederation, which stands in the solemn form of a compact among the States, can be superseded without the unanimous consent of the parties to it? 2. What relation is to subsist between the nine or more States ratifying the Constitution, and the remaining few who do not become parties to it? The first question is answered at once by recurring to the absolute necessity of the case; to the great principle of selfpreservation; to the transcendent law of nature and of nature's God, which declares that the safety and happiness of society are the objects at which all political institutions aim, and to which all such institutions must be sacrificed. PERHAPS, also, an answer may be found without searching beyond the principles of the compact itself. It has been heretofore noted among the defects of the Confederation, that in many of the States it had received no higher sanction than a mere legislative ratification. The principle of reciprocality seems to require that its obligation on the other States should be reduced to the same standard. A compact between independent sovereigns, founded on ordinary acts of legislative authority, can pretend to no higher validity than a league or treaty between the parties. It is an established doctrine on the subject of treaties, that all the articles are mutually conditions of each other; that a breach of any one article is a breach of the whole treaty; and that a breach, committed by either of the parties, absolves the others, and authorizes them, if they please, to pronounce the compact violated and void. Should it unhappily be necessary to appeal to these delicate truths for a justification for dispensing with the consent of particular States to a dissolution of the federal pact, will not the complaining parties find it a difficult task to answer the MULTIPLIED and IMPORTANT infractions with which they may be confronted? The time has been when it was incumbent on us all to veil the ideas which this paragraph exhibits. The scene is now changed, and with it the part which the same motives dictate. The second question is not less delicate; and the flattering prospect of its being merely hypothetical forbids an overcurious discussion of it. It is one of those cases which must be left to provide for itself. In general, it may be observed, that although no political relation can subsist between the assenting and dissenting States, yet the moral relations will remain uncancelled. The claims of justice, both on one side and on the other, will be in force, and must be fulfilled; the rights of humanity must in all cases be duly and mutually respected; whilst considerations of a common interest, and, above all, the remembrance of the endearing scenes which are past, and the anticipation of a speedy triumph over the obstacles to reunion, will, it is hoped, not urge in vain MODERATION on one side, and PRUDENCE on the other. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 44 Restrictions on the Authority of the Several States From the New York Packet. Friday, January 25, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: A FIFTH class of provisions in favor of the federal authority consists of the following restrictions on the authority of the several States: 1. \"No State shall enter into any treaty, alliance, or confederation; grant letters of marque and reprisal; coin money; emit bills of credit; make any thing but gold and silver a legal tender in payment of debts; pass any bill of attainder, ex post facto law, or law impairing the obligation of contracts; or grant any title of nobility.\" The prohibition against treaties, alliances, and confederations makes a part of the existing articles of Union; and for reasons which need no explanation, is copied into the new Constitution. The prohibition of letters of marque is another part of the old system, but is somewhat extended in the new. According to the former, letters of marque could be granted by the States after a declaration of war; according to the latter, these licenses must be obtained, as well during war as previous to its declaration, from the government of the United States. This alteration is fully justified by the advantage of uniformity in all points which relate to foreign powers; and of immediate responsibility to the nation in all those for whose conduct the nation itself is to be responsible. The right of coining money, which is here taken from the States, was left in their hands by the Confederation, as a concurrent right with that of Congress, under an exception in favor of the exclusive right of Congress to regulate the alloy and value. In this instance, also, the new provision is an improvement on the old. Whilst the alloy and value depended on the general authority, a right of coinage in the particular States could have no other effect than to multiply expensive mints and diversify the forms and weights of the circulating pieces. The latter inconveniency defeats one purpose for which the power was originally submitted to the federal head; and as far as the former might prevent an inconvenient remittance of gold and silver to the central mint for recoinage, the end can be as well attained by local mints established under the general authority. The extension of the prohibition to bills of credit must give pleasure to every citizen, in proportion to his love of justice and his knowledge of the true springs of public prosperity. The loss which America has sustained since the peace, from the pestilent effects of paper money on the necessary confidence between man and man, on the necessary confidence in the public councils, on the industry and morals of the people, and on the character of republican government, constitutes an enormous debt against the States chargeable with this unadvised measure, which must long remain unsatisfied; or rather an accumulation of guilt, which can be expiated no otherwise than by a voluntary sacrifice on the altar of justice, of the power which has been the instrument of it. In addition to these persuasive considerations, it may be observed, that the same reasons which show the necessity of denying to the States the power of regulating coin, prove with equal force that they ought not to be at liberty to substitute a paper medium in the place of coin. Had every State a right to regulate the value of its coin, there might be as many different currencies as States, and thus the intercourse among them would be impeded; retrospective alterations in its value might be made, and thus the citizens of other States be injured, and animosities be kindled among the States themselves. The subjects of foreign powers might suffer from the same cause, and hence the Union be discredited and embroiled by the indiscretion of a single member. No one of these mischiefs is less incident to a power in the States to emit paper money, than to coin gold or silver. The power to make any thing but gold and silver a tender in payment of debts, is withdrawn from the States, on the same principle with that of issuing a paper currency. Bills of attainder, ex post facto laws, and laws impairing the obligation of contracts, are contrary to the first principles of the social compact, and to every principle of sound legislation. The two former are expressly prohibited by the declarations prefixed to some of the State constitutions, and all of them are prohibited by the spirit and scope of these fundamental charters. Our own experience has taught us, nevertheless, that additional fences against these dangers ought not to be omitted. Very properly, therefore, have the convention added this constitutional bulwark in favor of personal security and private rights; and I am much deceived if they have not, in so doing, as faithfully consulted the genuine sentiments as the undoubted interests of their constituents. The sober people of America are weary of the fluctuating policy which has directed the public councils. They have seen with regret and indignation that sudden changes and legislative interferences, in cases affecting personal rights, become jobs in the hands of enterprising and influential speculators, and snares to the moreindustrious and lessinformed part of the community. They have seen, too, that one legislative interference is but the first link of a long chain of repetitions, every subsequent interference being naturally produced by the effects of the preceding. They very rightly infer, therefore, that some thorough reform is wanting, which will banish speculations on public measures, inspire a general prudence and industry, and give a regular course to the business of society. The prohibition with respect to titles of nobility is copied from the articles of Confederation and needs no comment. 2. \"No State shall, without the consent of the Congress, lay any imposts or duties on imports or exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing its inspection laws, and the net produce of all duties and imposts laid by any State on imports or exports, shall be for the use of the treasury of the United States; and all such laws shall be subject to the revision and control of the Congress. No State shall, without the consent of Congress, lay any duty on tonnage, keep troops or ships of war in time of peace, enter into any agreement or compact with another State, or with a foreign power, or engage in war unless actually invaded, or in such imminent danger as will not admit of delay.\" The restraint on the power of the States over imports and exports is enforced by all the arguments which prove the necessity of submitting the regulation of trade to the federal councils. It is needless, therefore, to remark further on this head, than that the manner in which the restraint is qualified seems well calculated at once to secure to the States a reasonable discretion in providing for the conveniency of their imports and exports, and to the United States a reasonable check against the abuse of this discretion. The remaining particulars of this clause fall within reasonings which are either so obvious, or have been so fully developed, that they may be passed over without remark. The SIXTH and last class consists of the several powers and provisions by which efficacy is given to all the rest. 1. Of these the first is, the \"power to make all laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into execution the foregoing powers, and all other powers vested by this Constitution in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof.\" Few parts of the Constitution have been assailed with more intemperance than this; yet on a fair investigation of it, no part can appear more completely invulnerable. Without the SUBSTANCE of this power, the whole Constitution would be a dead letter. Those who object to the article, therefore, as a part of the Constitution, can only mean that the FORM of the provision is improper. But have they considered whether a better form could have been substituted? There are four other possible methods which the Constitution might have taken on this subject. They might have copied the second article of the existing Confederation, which would have prohibited the exercise of any power not EXPRESSLY delegated; they might have attempted a positive enumeration of the powers comprehended under the general terms \"necessary and proper\"; they might have attempted a negative enumeration of them, by specifying the powers excepted from the general definition; they might have been altogether silent on the subject, leaving these necessary and proper powers to construction and inference. Had the convention taken the first method of adopting the second article of Confederation, it is evident that the new Congress would be continually exposed, as their predecessors have been, to the alternative of construing the term \"EXPRESSLY\" with so much rigor, as to disarm the government of all real authority whatever, or with so much latitude as to destroy altogether the force of the restriction. It would be easy to show, if it were necessary, that no important power, delegated by the articles of Confederation, has been or can be executed by Congress, without recurring more or less to the doctrine of CONSTRUCTION or IMPLICATION. As the powers delegated under the new system are more extensive, the government which is to administer it would find itself still more distressed with the alternative of betraying the public interests by doing nothing, or of violating the Constitution by exercising powers indispensably necessary and proper, but, at the same time, not EXPRESSLY granted. Had the convention attempted a positive enumeration of the powers necessary and proper for carrying their other powers into effect, the attempt would have involved a complete digest of laws on every subject to which the Constitution relates; accommodated too, not only to the existing state of things, but to all the possible changes which futurity may produce; for in every new application of a general power, the PARTICULAR POWERS, which are the means of attaining the OBJECT of the general power, must always necessarily vary with that object, and be often properly varied whilst the object remains the same. Had they attempted to enumerate the particular powers or means not necessary or proper for carrying the general powers into execution, the task would have been no less chimerical; and would have been liable to this further objection, that every defect in the enumeration would have been equivalent to a positive grant of authority. If, to avoid this consequence, they had attempted a partial enumeration of the exceptions, and described the residue by the general terms, NOT NECESSARY OR PROPER, it must have happened that the enumeration would comprehend a few of the excepted powers only; that these would be such as would be least likely to be assumed or tolerated, because the enumeration would of course select such as would be least necessary or proper; and that the unnecessary and improper powers included in the residuum, would be less forcibly excepted, than if no partial enumeration had been made. Had the Constitution been silent on this head, there can be no doubt that all the particular powers requisite as means of executing the general powers would have resulted to the government, by unavoidable implication. No axiom is more clearly established in law, or in reason, than that wherever the end is required, the means are authorized; wherever a general power to do a thing is given, every particular power necessary for doing it is included. Had this last method, therefore, been pursued by the convention, every objection now urged against their plan would remain in all its plausibility; and the real inconveniency would be incurred of not removing a pretext which may be seized on critical occasions for drawing into question the essential powers of the Union. If it be asked what is to be the consequence, in case the Congress shall misconstrue this part of the Constitution, and exercise powers not warranted by its true meaning, I answer, the same as if they should misconstrue or enlarge any other power vested in them; as if the general power had been reduced to particulars, and any one of these were to be violated; the same, in short, as if the State legislatures should violate the irrespective constitutional authorities. In the first instance, the success of the usurpation will depend on the executive and judiciary departments, which are to expound and give effect to the legislative acts; and in the last resort a remedy must be obtained from the people who can, by the election of more faithful representatives, annul the acts of the usurpers. The truth is, that this ultimate redress may be more confided in against unconstitutional acts of the federal than of the State legislatures, for this plain reason, that as every such act of the former will be an invasion of the rights of the latter, these will be ever ready to mark the innovation, to sound the alarm to the people, and to exert their local influence in effecting a change of federal representatives. There being no such intermediate body between the State legislatures and the people interested in watching the conduct of the former, violations of the State constitutions are more likely to remain unnoticed and unredressed. 2. \"This Constitution and the laws of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof, and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land, and the judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any thing in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.\" The indiscreet zeal of the adversaries to the Constitution has betrayed them into an attack on this part of it also, without which it would have been evidently and radically defective. To be fully sensible of this, we need only suppose for a moment that the supremacy of the State constitutions had been left complete by a saving clause in their favor. In the first place, as these constitutions invest the State legislatures with absolute sovereignty, in all cases not excepted by the existing articles of Confederation, all the authorities contained in the proposed Constitution, so far as they exceed those enumerated in the Confederation, would have been annulled, and the new Congress would have been reduced to the same impotent condition with their predecessors. In the next place, as the constitutions of some of the States do not even expressly and fully recognize the existing powers of the Confederacy, an express saving of the supremacy of the former would, in such States, have brought into question every power contained in the proposed Constitution. In the third place, as the constitutions of the States differ much from each other, it might happen that a treaty or national law, of great and equal importance to the States, would interfere with some and not with other constitutions, and would consequently be valid in some of the States, at the same time that it would have no effect in others. In fine, the world would have seen, for the first time, a system of government founded on an inversion of the fundamental principles of all government; it would have seen the authority of the whole society every where subordinate to the authority of the parts; it would have seen a monster, in which the head was under the direction of the members. 3. \"The Senators and Representatives, and the members of the several State legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and the several States, shall be bound by oath or affirmation to support this Constitution.\" It has been asked why it was thought necessary, that the State magistracy should be bound to support the federal Constitution, and unnecessary that a like oath should be imposed on the officers of the United States, in favor of the State constitutions. Several reasons might be assigned for the distinction. I content myself with one, which is obvious and conclusive. The members of the federal government will have no agency in carrying the State constitutions into effect. The members and officers of the State governments, on the contrary, will have an essential agency in giving effect to the federal Constitution. The election of the President and Senate will depend, in all cases, on the legislatures of the several States. And the election of the House of Representatives will equally depend on the same authority in the first instance; and will, probably, forever be conducted by the officers, and according to the laws, of the States. 4. Among the provisions for giving efficacy to the federal powers might be added those which belong to the executive and judiciary departments: but as these are reserved for particular examination in another place, I pass them over in this. We have now reviewed, in detail, all the articles composing the sum or quantity of power delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government, and are brought to this undeniable conclusion, that no part of the power is unnecessary or improper for accomplishing the necessary objects of the Union. The question, therefore, whether this amount of power shall be granted or not, resolves itself into another question, whether or not a government commensurate to the exigencies of the Union shall be established; or, in other words, whether the Union itself shall be preserved. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 45 The Alleged Danger From the Powers of the Union to the State Governments. Considered For the Independent Journal. Saturday, January 26, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: HAVING shown that no one of the powers transferred to the federal government is unnecessary or improper, the next question to be considered is, whether the whole mass of them will be dangerous to the portion of authority left in the several States. The adversaries to the plan of the convention, instead of considering in the first place what degree of power was absolutely necessary for the purposes of the federal government, have exhausted themselves in a secondary inquiry into the possible consequences of the proposed degree of power to the governments of the particular States. But if the Union, as has been shown, be essential to the security of the people of America against foreign danger; if it be essential to their security against contentions and wars among the different States; if it be essential to guard them against those violent and oppressive factions which embitter the blessings of liberty, and against those military establishments which must gradually poison its very fountain; if, in a word, the Union be essential to the happiness of the people of America, is it not preposterous, to urge as an objection to a government, without which the objects of the Union cannot be attained, that such a government may derogate from the importance of the governments of the individual States? Was, then, the American Revolution effected, was the American Confederacy formed, was the precious blood of thousands spilt, and the hardearned substance of millions lavished, not that the people of America should enjoy peace, liberty, and safety, but that the government of the individual States, that particular municipal establishments, might enjoy a certain extent of power, and be arrayed with certain dignities and attributes of sovereignty? We have heard of the impious doctrine in the Old World, that the people were made for kings, not kings for the people. Is the same doctrine to be revived in the New, in another shape that the solid happiness of the people is to be sacrificed to the views of political institutions of a different form? It is too early for politicians to presume on our forgetting that the public good, the real welfare of the great body of the people, is the supreme object to be pursued; and that no form of government whatever has any other value than as it may be fitted for the attainment of this object. Were the plan of the convention adverse to the public happiness, my voice would be, Reject the plan. Were the Union itself inconsistent with the public happiness, it would be, Abolish the Union. In like manner, as far as the sovereignty of the States cannot be reconciled to the happiness of the people, the voice of every good citizen must be, Let the former be sacrificed to the latter. How far the sacrifice is necessary, has been shown. How far the unsacrificed residue will be endangered, is the question before us. Several important considerations have been touched in the course of these papers, which discountenance the supposition that the operation of the federal government will by degrees prove fatal to the State governments. The more I revolve the subject, the more fully I am persuaded that the balance is much more likely to be disturbed by the preponderancy of the last than of the first scale. We have seen, in all the examples of ancient and modern confederacies, the strongest tendency continually betraying itself in the members, to despoil the general government of its authorities, with a very ineffectual capacity in the latter to defend itself against the encroachments. Although, in most of these examples, the system has been so dissimilar from that under consideration as greatly to weaken any inference concerning the latter from the fate of the former, yet, as the States will retain, under the proposed Constitution, a very extensive portion of active sovereignty, the inference ought not to be wholly disregarded. In the Achaean league it is probable that the federal head had a degree and species of power, which gave it a considerable likeness to the government framed by the convention. The Lycian Confederacy, as far as its principles and form are transmitted, must have borne a still greater analogy to it. Yet history does not inform us that either of them ever degenerated, or tended to degenerate, into one consolidated government. On the contrary, we know that the ruin of one of them proceeded from the incapacity of the federal authority to prevent the dissensions, and finally the disunion, of the subordinate authorities. These cases are the more worthy of our attention, as the external causes by which the component parts were pressed together were much more numerous and powerful than in our case; and consequently less powerful ligaments within would be sufficient to bind the members to the head, and to each other. In the feudal system, we have seen a similar propensity exemplified. Notwithstanding the want of proper sympathy in every instance between the local sovereigns and the people, and the sympathy in some instances between the general sovereign and the latter, it usually happened that the local sovereigns prevailed in the rivalship for encroachments. Had no external dangers enforced internal harmony and subordination, and particularly, had the local sovereigns possessed the affections of the people, the great kingdoms in Europe would at this time consist of as many independent princes as there were formerly feudatory barons. The State governments will have the advantage of the Federal government, whether we compare them in respect to the immediate dependence of the one on the other; to the weight of personal influence which each side will possess; to the powers respectively vested in them; to the predilection and probable support of the people; to the disposition and faculty of resisting and frustrating the measures of each other. The State governments may be regarded as constituent and essential parts of the federal government; whilst the latter is nowise essential to the operation or organization of the former. Without the intervention of the State legislatures, the President of the United States cannot be elected at all. They must in all cases have a great share in his appointment, and will, perhaps, in most cases, of themselves determine it. The Senate will be elected absolutely and exclusively by the State legislatures. Even the House of Representatives, though drawn immediately from the people, will be chosen very much under the influence of that class of men, whose influence over the people obtains for themselves an election into the State legislatures. Thus, each of the principal branches of the federal government will owe its existence more or less to the favor of the State governments, and must consequently feel a dependence, which is much more likely to beget a disposition too obsequious than too overbearing towards them. On the other side, the component parts of the State governments will in no instance be indebted for their appointment to the direct agency of the federal government, and very little, if at all, to the local influence of its members. The number of individuals employed under the Constitution of the United States will be much smaller than the number employed under the particular States. There will consequently be less of personal influence on the side of the former than of the latter. The members of the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments of thirteen and more States, the justices of peace, officers of militia, ministerial officers of justice, with all the county, corporation, and town officers, for three millions and more of people, intermixed, and having particular acquaintance with every class and circle of people, must exceed, beyond all proportion, both in number and influence, those of every description who will be employed in the administration of the federal system. Compare the members of the three great departments of the thirteen States, excluding from the judiciary department the justices of peace, with the members of the corresponding departments of the single government of the Union; compare the militia officers of three millions of people with the military and marine officers of any establishment which is within the compass of probability, or, I may add, of possibility, and in this view alone, we may pronounce the advantage of the States to be decisive. If the federal government is to have collectors of revenue, the State governments will have theirs also. And as those of the former will be principally on the seacoast, and not very numerous, whilst those of the latter will be spread over the face of the country, and will be very numerous, the advantage in this view also lies on the same side. It is true, that the Confederacy is to possess, and may exercise, the power of collecting internal as well as external taxes throughout the States; but it is probable that this power will not be resorted to, except for supplemental purposes of revenue; that an option will then be given to the States to supply their quotas by previous collections of their own; and that the eventual collection, under the immediate authority of the Union, will generally be made by the officers, and according to the rules, appointed by the several States. Indeed it is extremely probable, that in other instances, particularly in the organization of the judicial power, the officers of the States will be clothed with the correspondent authority of the Union. Should it happen, however, that separate collectors of internal revenue should be appointed under the federal government, the influence of the whole number would not bear a comparison with that of the multitude of State officers in the opposite scale. Within every district to which a federal collector would be allotted, there would not be less than thirty or forty, or even more, officers of different descriptions, and many of them persons of character and weight, whose influence would lie on the side of the State. The powers delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government, are few and defined. Those which are to remain in the State governments are numerous and indefinite. The former will be exercised principally on external objects, as war, peace, negotiation, and foreign commerce; with which last the power of taxation will, for the most part, be connected. The powers reserved to the several States will extend to all the objects which, in the ordinary course of affairs, concern the lives, liberties, and properties of the people, and the internal order, improvement, and prosperity of the State. The operations of the federal government will be most extensive and important in times of war and danger; those of the State governments, in times of peace and security. As the former periods will probably bear a small proportion to the latter, the State governments will here enjoy another advantage over the federal government. The more adequate, indeed, the federal powers may be rendered to the national defense, the less frequent will be those scenes of danger which might favor their ascendancy over the governments of the particular States. If the new Constitution be examined with accuracy and candor, it will be found that the change which it proposes consists much less in the addition of NEW POWERS to the Union, than in the invigoration of its ORIGINAL POWERS. The regulation of commerce, it is true, is a new power; but that seems to be an addition which few oppose, and from which no apprehensions are entertained. The powers relating to war and peace, armies and fleets, treaties and finance, with the other more considerable powers, are all vested in the existing Congress by the articles of Confederation. The proposed change does not enlarge these powers; it only substitutes a more effectual mode of administering them. The change relating to taxation may be regarded as the most important; and yet the present Congress have as complete authority to REQUIRE of the States indefinite supplies of money for the common defense and general welfare, as the future Congress will have to require them of individual citizens; and the latter will be no more bound than the States themselves have been, to pay the quotas respectively taxed on them. Had the States complied punctually with the articles of Confederation, or could their compliance have been enforced by as peaceable means as may be used with success towards single persons, our past experience is very far from countenancing an opinion, that the State governments would have lost their constitutional powers, and have gradually undergone an entire consolidation. To maintain that such an event would have ensued, would be to say at once, that the existence of the State governments is incompatible with any system whatever that accomplishes the essential purposes of the Union. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 46 The Influence of the State and Federal Governments Compared From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 29, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: RESUMING the subject of the last paper, I proceed to inquire whether the federal government or the State governments will have the advantage with regard to the predilection and support of the people. Notwithstanding the different modes in which they are appointed, we must consider both of them as substantially dependent on the great body of the citizens of the United States. I assume this position here as it respects the first, reserving the proofs for another place. The federal and State governments are in fact but different agents and trustees of the people, constituted with different powers, and designed for different purposes. The adversaries of the Constitution seem to have lost sight of the people altogether in their reasonings on this subject; and to have viewed these different establishments, not only as mutual rivals and enemies, but as uncontrolled by any common superior in their efforts to usurp the authorities of each other. These gentlemen must here be reminded of their error. They must be told that the ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone, and that it will not depend merely on the comparative ambition or address of the different governments, whether either, or which of them, will be able to enlarge its sphere of jurisdiction at the expense of the other. Truth, no less than decency, requires that the event in every case should be supposed to depend on the sentiments and sanction of their common constituents. Many considerations, besides those suggested on a former occasion, seem to place it beyond doubt that the first and most natural attachment of the people will be to the governments of their respective States. Into the administration of these a greater number of individuals will expect to rise. From the gift of these a greater number of offices and emoluments will flow. By the superintending care of these, all the more domestic and personal interests of the people will be regulated and provided for. With the affairs of these, the people will be more familiarly and minutely conversant. And with the members of these, will a greater proportion of the people have the ties of personal acquaintance and friendship, and of family and party attachments; on the side of these, therefore, the popular bias may well be expected most strongly to incline. Experience speaks the same language in this case. The federal administration, though hitherto very defective in comparison with what may be hoped under a better system, had, during the war, and particularly whilst the independent fund of paper emissions was in credit, an activity and importance as great as it can well have in any future circumstances whatever. It was engaged, too, in a course of measures which had for their object the protection of everything that was dear, and the acquisition of everything that could be desirable to the people at large. It was, nevertheless, invariably found, after the transient enthusiasm for the early Congresses was over, that the attention and attachment of the people were turned anew to their own particular governments; that the federal council was at no time the idol of popular favor; and that opposition to proposed enlargements of its powers and importance was the side usually taken by the men who wished to build their political consequence on the prepossessions of their fellowcitizens. If, therefore, as has been elsewhere remarked, the people should in future become more partial to the federal than to the State governments, the change can only result from such manifest and irresistible proofs of a better administration, as will overcome all their antecedent propensities. And in that case, the people ought not surely to be precluded from giving most of their confidence where they may discover it to be most due; but even in that case the State governments could have little to apprehend, because it is only within a certain sphere that the federal power can, in the nature of things, be advantageously administered. The remaining points on which I propose to compare the federal and State governments, are the disposition and the faculty they may respectively possess, to resist and frustrate the measures of each other. It has been already proved that the members of the federal will be more dependent on the members of the State governments, than the latter will be on the former. It has appeared also, that the prepossessions of the people, on whom both will depend, will be more on the side of the State governments, than of the federal government. So far as the disposition of each towards the other may be influenced by these causes, the State governments must clearly have the advantage. But in a distinct and very important point of view, the advantage will lie on the same side. The prepossessions, which the members themselves will carry into the federal government, will generally be favorable to the States; whilst it will rarely happen, that the members of the State governments will carry into the public councils a bias in favor of the general government. A local spirit will infallibly prevail much more in the members of Congress, than a national spirit will prevail in the legislatures of the particular States. Every one knows that a great proportion of the errors committed by the State legislatures proceeds from the disposition of the members to sacrifice the comprehensive and permanent interest of the State, to the particular and separate views of the counties or districts in which they reside. And if they do not sufficiently enlarge their policy to embrace the collective welfare of their particular State, how can it be imagined that they will make the aggregate prosperity of the Union, and the dignity and respectability of its government, the objects of their affections and consultations? For the same reason that the members of the State legislatures will be unlikely to attach themselves sufficiently to national objects, the members of the federal legislature will be likely to attach themselves too much to local objects. The States will be to the latter what counties and towns are to the former. Measures will too often be decided according to their probable effect, not on the national prosperity and happiness, but on the prejudices, interests, and pursuits of the governments and people of the individual States. What is the spirit that has in general characterized the proceedings of Congress? A perusal of their journals, as well as the candid acknowledgments of such as have had a seat in that assembly, will inform us, that the members have but too frequently displayed the character, rather of partisans of their respective States, than of impartial guardians of a common interest; that where on one occasion improper sacrifices have been made of local considerations, to the aggrandizement of the federal government, the great interests of the nation have suffered on a hundred, from an undue attention to the local prejudices, interests, and views of the particular States. I mean not by these reflections to insinuate, that the new federal government will not embrace a more enlarged plan of policy than the existing government may have pursued; much less, that its views will be as confined as those of the State legislatures; but only that it will partake sufficiently of the spirit of both, to be disinclined to invade the rights of the individual States, or the prerogatives of their governments. The motives on the part of the State governments, to augment their prerogatives by defalcations from the federal government, will be overruled by no reciprocal predispositions in the members. Were it admitted, however, that the Federal government may feel an equal disposition with the State governments to extend its power beyond the due limits, the latter would still have the advantage in the means of defeating such encroachments. If an act of a particular State, though unfriendly to the national government, be generally popular in that State and should not too grossly violate the oaths of the State officers, it is executed immediately and, of course, by means on the spot and depending on the State alone. The opposition of the federal government, or the interposition of federal officers, would but inflame the zeal of all parties on the side of the State, and the evil could not be prevented or repaired, if at all, without the employment of means which must always be resorted to with reluctance and difficulty. On the other hand, should an unwarrantable measure of the federal government be unpopular in particular States, which would seldom fail to be the case, or even a warrantable measure be so, which may sometimes be the case, the means of opposition to it are powerful and at hand. The disquietude of the people; their repugnance and, perhaps, refusal to cooperate with the officers of the Union; the frowns of the executive magistracy of the State; the embarrassments created by legislative devices, which would often be added on such occasions, would oppose, in any State, difficulties not to be despised; would form, in a large State, very serious impediments; and where the sentiments of several adjoining States happened to be in unison, would present obstructions which the federal government would hardly be willing to encounter. But ambitious encroachments of the federal government, on the authority of the State governments, would not excite the opposition of a single State, or of a few States only. They would be signals of general alarm. Every government would espouse the common cause. A correspondence would be opened. Plans of resistance would be concerted. One spirit would animate and conduct the whole. The same combinations, in short, would result from an apprehension of the federal, as was produced by the dread of a foreign, yoke; and unless the projected innovations should be voluntarily renounced, the same appeal to a trial of force would be made in the one case as was made in the other. But what degree of madness could ever drive the federal government to such an extremity. In the contest with Great Britain, one part of the empire was employed against the other. The more numerous part invaded the rights of the less numerous part. The attempt was unjust and unwise; but it was not in speculation absolutely chimerical. But what would be the contest in the case we are supposing? Who would be the parties? A few representatives of the people would be opposed to the people themselves; or rather one set of representatives would be contending against thirteen sets of representatives, with the whole body of their common constituents on the side of the latter. The only refuge left for those who prophesy the downfall of the State governments is the visionary supposition that the federal government may previously accumulate a military force for the projects of ambition. The reasonings contained in these papers must have been employed to little purpose indeed, if it could be necessary now to disprove the reality of this danger. That the people and the States should, for a sufficient period of time, elect an uninterrupted succession of men ready to betray both; that the traitors should, throughout this period, uniformly and systematically pursue some fixed plan for the extension of the military establishment; that the governments and the people of the States should silently and patiently behold the gathering storm, and continue to supply the materials, until it should be prepared to burst on their own heads, must appear to every one more like the incoherent dreams of a delirious jealousy, or the misjudged exaggerations of a counterfeit zeal, than like the sober apprehensions of genuine patriotism. Extravagant as the supposition is, let it however be made. Let a regular army, fully equal to the resources of the country, be formed; and let it be entirely at the devotion of the federal government; still it would not be going too far to say, that the State governments, with the people on their side, would be able to repel the danger. The highest number to which, according to the best computation, a standing army can be carried in any country, does not exceed one hundredth part of the whole number of souls; or one twentyfifth part of the number able to bear arms. This proportion would not yield, in the United States, an army of more than twentyfive or thirty thousand men. To these would be opposed a militia amounting to near half a million of citizens with arms in their hands, officered by men chosen from among themselves, fighting for their common liberties, and united and conducted by governments possessing their affections and confidence. It may well be doubted, whether a militia thus circumstanced could ever be conquered by such a proportion of regular troops. Those who are best acquainted with the last successful resistance of this country against the British arms, will be most inclined to deny the possibility of it. Besides the advantage of being armed, which the Americans possess over the people of almost every other nation, the existence of subordinate governments, to which the people are attached, and by which the militia officers are appointed, forms a barrier against the enterprises of ambition, more insurmountable than any which a simple government of any form can admit of. Notwithstanding the military establishments in the several kingdoms of Europe, which are carried as far as the public resources will bear, the governments are afraid to trust the people with arms. And it is not certain, that with this aid alone they would not be able to shake off their yokes. But were the people to possess the additional advantages of local governments chosen by themselves, who could collect the national will and direct the national force, and of officers appointed out of the militia, by these governments, and attached both to them and to the militia, it may be affirmed with the greatest assurance, that the throne of every tyranny in Europe would be speedily overturned in spite of the legions which surround it. Let us not insult the free and gallant citizens of America with the suspicion, that they would be less able to defend the rights of which they would be in actual possession, than the debased subjects of arbitrary power would be to rescue theirs from the hands of their oppressors. Let us rather no longer insult them with the supposition that they can ever reduce themselves to the necessity of making the experiment, by a blind and tame submission to the long train of insidious measures which must precede and produce it. The argument under the present head may be put into a very concise form, which appears altogether conclusive. Either the mode in which the federal government is to be constructed will render it sufficiently dependent on the people, or it will not. On the first supposition, it will be restrained by that dependence from forming schemes obnoxious to their constituents. On the other supposition, it will not possess the confidence of the people, and its schemes of usurpation will be easily defeated by the State governments, who will be supported by the people. On summing up the considerations stated in this and the last paper, they seem to amount to the most convincing evidence, that the powers proposed to be lodged in the federal government are as little formidable to those reserved to the individual States, as they are indispensably necessary to accomplish the purposes of the Union; and that all those alarms which have been sounded, of a meditated and consequential annihilation of the State governments, must, on the most favorable interpretation, be ascribed to the chimerical fears of the authors of them. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 47 The Particular Structure of the New Government and the Distribution of Power Among Its Different Parts. For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, January 30, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: HAVING reviewed the general form of the proposed government and the general mass of power allotted to it, I proceed to examine the particular structure of this government, and the distribution of this mass of power among its constituent parts. One of the principal objections inculcated by the more respectable adversaries to the Constitution, is its supposed violation of the political maxim, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments ought to be separate and distinct. In the structure of the federal government, no regard, it is said, seems to have been paid to this essential precaution in favor of liberty. The several departments of power are distributed and blended in such a manner as at once to destroy all symmetry and beauty of form, and to expose some of the essential parts of the edifice to the danger of being crushed by the disproportionate weight of other parts. No political truth is certainly of greater intrinsic value, or is stamped with the authority of more enlightened patrons of liberty, than that on which the objection is founded. The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, selfappointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny. Were the federal Constitution, therefore, really chargeable with the accumulation of power, or with a mixture of powers, having a dangerous tendency to such an accumulation, no further arguments would be necessary to inspire a universal reprobation of the system. I persuade myself, however, that it will be made apparent to every one, that the charge cannot be supported, and that the maxim on which it relies has been totally misconceived and misapplied. In order to form correct ideas on this important subject, it will be proper to investigate the sense in which the preservation of liberty requires that the three great departments of power should be separate and distinct. The oracle who is always consulted and cited on this subject is the celebrated Montesquieu. If he be not the author of this invaluable precept in the science of politics, he has the merit at least of displaying and recommending it most effectually to the attention of mankind. Let us endeavor, in the first place, to ascertain his meaning on this point. The British Constitution was to Montesquieu what Homer has been to the didactic writers on epic poetry. As the latter have considered the work of the immortal bard as the perfect model from which the principles and rules of the epic art were to be drawn, and by which all similar works were to be judged, so this great political critic appears to have viewed the Constitution of England as the standard, or to use his own expression, as the mirror of political liberty; and to have delivered, in the form of elementary truths, the several characteristic principles of that particular system. That we may be sure, then, not to mistake his meaning in this case, let us recur to the source from which the maxim was drawn. On the slightest view of the British Constitution, we must perceive that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are by no means totally separate and distinct from each other. The executive magistrate forms an integral part of the legislative authority. He alone has the prerogative of making treaties with foreign sovereigns, which, when made, have, under certain limitations, the force of legislative acts. All the members of the judiciary department are appointed by him, can be removed by him on the address of the two Houses of Parliament, and form, when he pleases to consult them, one of his constitutional councils. One branch of the legislative department forms also a great constitutional council to the executive chief, as, on another hand, it is the sole depositary of judicial power in cases of impeachment, and is invested with the supreme appellate jurisdiction in all other cases. The judges, again, are so far connected with the legislative department as often to attend and participate in its deliberations, though not admitted to a legislative vote. From these facts, by which Montesquieu was guided, it may clearly be inferred that, in saying \"There can be no liberty where the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, or body of magistrates,\" or, \"if the power of judging be not separated from the legislative and executive powers,\" he did not mean that these departments ought to have no PARTIAL AGENCY in, or no CONTROL over, the acts of each other. His meaning, as his own words import, and still more conclusively as illustrated by the example in his eye, can amount to no more than this, that where the WHOLE power of one department is exercised by the same hands which possess the WHOLE power of another department, the fundamental principles of a free constitution are subverted. This would have been the case in the constitution examined by him, if the king, who is the sole executive magistrate, had possessed also the complete legislative power, or the supreme administration of justice; or if the entire legislative body had possessed the supreme judiciary, or the supreme executive authority. This, however, is not among the vices of that constitution. The magistrate in whom the whole executive power resides cannot of himself make a law, though he can put a negative on every law; nor administer justice in person, though he has the appointment of those who do administer it. The judges can exercise no executive prerogative, though they are shoots from the executive stock; nor any legislative function, though they may be advised with by the legislative councils. The entire legislature can perform no judiciary act, though by the joint act of two of its branches the judges may be removed from their offices, and though one of its branches is possessed of the judicial power in the last resort. The entire legislature, again, can exercise no executive prerogative, though one of its branches constitutes the supreme executive magistracy, and another, on the impeachment of a third, can try and condemn all the subordinate officers in the executive department. The reasons on which Montesquieu grounds his maxim are a further demonstration of his meaning. \"When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person or body,\" says he, \"there can be no liberty, because apprehensions may arise lest THE SAME monarch or senate should ENACT tyrannical laws to EXECUTE them in a tyrannical manner.\" Again: \"Were the power of judging joined with the legislative, the life and liberty of the subject would be exposed to arbitrary control, for THE JUDGE would then be THE LEGISLATOR. Were it joined to the executive power, THE JUDGE might behave with all the violence of AN OPPRESSOR.\" Some of these reasons are more fully explained in other passages; but briefly stated as they are here, they sufficiently establish the meaning which we have put on this celebrated maxim of this celebrated author. If we look into the constitutions of the several States, we find that, notwithstanding the emphatical and, in some instances, the unqualified terms in which this axiom has been laid down, there is not a single instance in which the several departments of power have been kept absolutely separate and distinct. New Hampshire, whose constitution was the last formed, seems to have been fully aware of the impossibility and inexpediency of avoiding any mixture whatever of these departments, and has qualified the doctrine by declaring \"that the legislative, executive, and judiciary powers ought to be kept as separate from, and independent of, each other AS THE NATURE OF A FREE GOVERNMENT WILL ADMIT; OR AS IS CONSISTENT WITH THAT CHAIN OF CONNECTION THAT BINDS THE WHOLE FABRIC OF THE CONSTITUTION IN ONE INDISSOLUBLE BOND OF UNITY AND AMITY.\" Her constitution accordingly mixes these departments in several respects. The Senate, which is a branch of the legislative department, is also a judicial tribunal for the trial of impeachments. The President, who is the head of the executive department, is the presiding member also of the Senate; and, besides an equal vote in all cases, has a casting vote in case of a tie. The executive head is himself eventually elective every year by the legislative department, and his council is every year chosen by and from the members of the same department. Several of the officers of state are also appointed by the legislature. And the members of the judiciary department are appointed by the executive department. The constitution of Massachusetts has observed a sufficient though less pointed caution, in expressing this fundamental article of liberty. It declares \"that the legislative department shall never exercise the executive and judicial powers, or either of them; the executive shall never exercise the legislative and judicial powers, or either of them; the judicial shall never exercise the legislative and executive powers, or either of them.\" This declaration corresponds precisely with the doctrine of Montesquieu, as it has been explained, and is not in a single point violated by the plan of the convention. It goes no farther than to prohibit any one of the entire departments from exercising the powers of another department. In the very Constitution to which it is prefixed, a partial mixture of powers has been admitted. The executive magistrate has a qualified negative on the legislative body, and the Senate, which is a part of the legislature, is a court of impeachment for members both of the executive and judiciary departments. The members of the judiciary department, again, are appointable by the executive department, and removable by the same authority on the address of the two legislative branches. Lastly, a number of the officers of government are annually appointed by the legislative department. As the appointment to offices, particularly executive offices, is in its nature an executive function, the compilers of the Constitution have, in this last point at least, violated the rule established by themselves. I pass over the constitutions of Rhode Island and Connecticut, because they were formed prior to the Revolution, and even before the principle under examination had become an object of political attention. The constitution of New York contains no declaration on this subject; but appears very clearly to have been framed with an eye to the danger of improperly blending the different departments. It gives, nevertheless, to the executive magistrate, a partial control over the legislative department; and, what is more, gives a like control to the judiciary department; and even blends the executive and judiciary departments in the exercise of this control. In its council of appointment members of the legislative are associated with the executive authority, in the appointment of officers, both executive and judiciary. And its court for the trial of impeachments and correction of errors is to consist of one branch of the legislature and the principal members of the judiciary department. The constitution of New Jersey has blended the different powers of government more than any of the preceding. The governor, who is the executive magistrate, is appointed by the legislature; is chancellor and ordinary, or surrogate of the State; is a member of the Supreme Court of Appeals, and president, with a casting vote, of one of the legislative branches. The same legislative branch acts again as executive council of the governor, and with him constitutes the Court of Appeals. The members of the judiciary department are appointed by the legislative department and removable by one branch of it, on the impeachment of the other. According to the constitution of Pennsylvania, the president, who is the head of the executive department, is annually elected by a vote in which the legislative department predominates. In conjunction with an executive council, he appoints the members of the judiciary department, and forms a court of impeachment for trial of all officers, judiciary as well as executive. The judges of the Supreme Court and justices of the peace seem also to be removable by the legislature; and the executive power of pardoning in certain cases, to be referred to the same department. The members of the executive council are made EXOFFICIO justices of peace throughout the State. In Delaware, the chief executive magistrate is annually elected by the legislative department. The speakers of the two legislative branches are vicepresidents in the executive department. The executive chief, with six others, appointed, three by each of the legislative branches constitutes the Supreme Court of Appeals; he is joined with the legislative department in the appointment of the other judges. Throughout the States, it appears that the members of the legislature may at the same time be justices of the peace; in this State, the members of one branch of it are EXOFFICIO justices of the peace; as are also the members of the executive council. The principal officers of the executive department are appointed by the legislative; and one branch of the latter forms a court of impeachments. All officers may be removed on address of the legislature. Maryland has adopted the maxim in the most unqualified terms; declaring that the legislative, executive, and judicial powers of government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other. Her constitution, notwithstanding, makes the executive magistrate appointable by the legislative department; and the members of the judiciary by the executive department. The language of Virginia is still more pointed on this subject. Her constitution declares, \"that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct; so that neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other; nor shall any person exercise the powers of more than one of them at the same time, except that the justices of county courts shall be eligible to either House of Assembly.\" Yet we find not only this express exception, with respect to the members of the inferior courts, but that the chief magistrate, with his executive council, are appointable by the legislature; that two members of the latter are triennially displaced at the pleasure of the legislature; and that all the principal offices, both executive and judiciary, are filled by the same department. The executive prerogative of pardon, also, is in one case vested in the legislative department. The constitution of North Carolina, which declares \"that the legislative, executive, and supreme judicial powers of government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other,\" refers, at the same time, to the legislative department, the appointment not only of the executive chief, but all the principal officers within both that and the judiciary department. In South Carolina, the constitution makes the executive magistracy eligible by the legislative department. It gives to the latter, also, the appointment of the members of the judiciary department, including even justices of the peace and sheriffs; and the appointment of officers in the executive department, down to captains in the army and navy of the State. In the constitution of Georgia, where it is declared \"that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct, so that neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other,\" we find that the executive department is to be filled by appointments of the legislature; and the executive prerogative of pardon to be finally exercised by the same authority. Even justices of the peace are to be appointed by the legislature. In citing these cases, in which the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments have not been kept totally separate and distinct, I wish not to be regarded as an advocate for the particular organizations of the several State governments. I am fully aware that among the many excellent principles which they exemplify, they carry strong marks of the haste, and still stronger of the inexperience, under which they were framed. It is but too obvious that in some instances the fundamental principle under consideration has been violated by too great a mixture, and even an actual consolidation, of the different powers; and that in no instance has a competent provision been made for maintaining in practice the separation delineated on paper. What I have wished to evince is, that the charge brought against the proposed Constitution, of violating the sacred maxim of free government, is warranted neither by the real meaning annexed to that maxim by its author, nor by the sense in which it has hitherto been understood in America. This interesting subject will be resumed in the ensuing paper. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 48 These Departments Should Not Be So Far Separated as to Have No Constitutional Control Over Each Other. From the New York Packet. Friday, February 1, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: IT WAS shown in the last paper that the political apothegm there examined does not require that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments should be wholly unconnected with each other. I shall undertake, in the next place, to show that unless these departments be so far connected and blended as to give to each a constitutional control over the others, the degree of separation which the maxim requires, as essential to a free government, can never in practice be duly maintained. It is agreed on all sides, that the powers properly belonging to one of the departments ought not to be directly and completely administered by either of the other departments. It is equally evident, that none of them ought to possess, directly or indirectly, an overruling influence over the others, in the administration of their respective powers. It will not be denied, that power is of an encroaching nature, and that it ought to be effectually restrained from passing the limits assigned to it. After discriminating, therefore, in theory, the several classes of power, as they may in their nature be legislative, executive, or judiciary, the next and most difficult task is to provide some practical security for each, against the invasion of the others. What this security ought to be, is the great problem to be solved. Will it be sufficient to mark, with precision, the boundaries of these departments, in the constitution of the government, and to trust to these parchment barriers against the encroaching spirit of power? This is the security which appears to have been principally relied on by the compilers of most of the American constitutions. But experience assures us, that the efficacy of the provision has been greatly overrated; and that some more adequate defense is indispensably necessary for the more feeble, against the more powerful, members of the government. The legislative department is everywhere extending the sphere of its activity, and drawing all power into its impetuous vortex. The founders of our republics have so much merit for the wisdom which they have displayed, that no task can be less pleasing than that of pointing out the errors into which they have fallen. A respect for truth, however, obliges us to remark, that they seem never for a moment to have turned their eyes from the danger to liberty from the overgrown and allgrasping prerogative of an hereditary magistrate, supported and fortified by an hereditary branch of the legislative authority. They seem never to have recollected the danger from legislative usurpations, which, by assembling all power in the same hands, must lead to the same tyranny as is threatened by executive usurpations. In a government where numerous and extensive prerogatives are placed in the hands of an hereditary monarch, the executive department is very justly regarded as the source of danger, and watched with all the jealousy which a zeal for liberty ought to inspire. In a democracy, where a multitude of people exercise in person the legislative functions, and are continually exposed, by their incapacity for regular deliberation and concerted measures, to the ambitious intrigues of their executive magistrates, tyranny may well be apprehended, on some favorable emergency, to start up in the same quarter. But in a representative republic, where the executive magistracy is carefully limited; both in the extent and the duration of its power; and where the legislative power is exercised by an assembly, which is inspired, by a supposed influence over the people, with an intrepid confidence in its own strength; which is sufficiently numerous to feel all the passions which actuate a multitude, yet not so numerous as to be incapable of pursuing the objects of its passions, by means which reason prescribes; it is against the enterprising ambition of this department that the people ought to indulge all their jealousy and exhaust all their precautions. The legislative department derives a superiority in our governments from other circumstances. Its constitutional powers being at once more extensive, and less susceptible of precise limits, it can, with the greater facility, mask, under complicated and indirect measures, the encroachments which it makes on the coordinate departments. It is not unfrequently a question of real nicety in legislative bodies, whether the operation of a particular measure will, or will not, extend beyond the legislative sphere. On the other side, the executive power being restrained within a narrower compass, and being more simple in its nature, and the judiciary being described by landmarks still less uncertain, projects of usurpation by either of these departments would immediately betray and defeat themselves. Nor is this all: as the legislative department alone has access to the pockets of the people, and has in some constitutions full discretion, and in all a prevailing influence, over the pecuniary rewards of those who fill the other departments, a dependence is thus created in the latter, which gives still greater facility to encroachments of the former. I have appealed to our own experience for the truth of what I advance on this subject. Were it necessary to verify this experience by particular proofs, they might be multiplied without end. I might find a witness in every citizen who has shared in, or been attentive to, the course of public administrations. I might collect vouchers in abundance from the records and archives of every State in the Union. But as a more concise, and at the same time equally satisfactory, evidence, I will refer to the example of two States, attested by two unexceptionable authorities. The first example is that of Virginia, a State which, as we have seen, has expressly declared in its constitution, that the three great departments ought not to be intermixed. The authority in support of it is Mr. Jefferson, who, besides his other advantages for remarking the operation of the government, was himself the chief magistrate of it. In order to convey fully the ideas with which his experience had impressed him on this subject, it will be necessary to quote a passage of some length from his very interesting Notes on the State of Virginia, p. 195. \"All the powers of government, legislative, executive, and judiciary, result to the legislative body. The concentrating these in the same hands, is precisely the definition of despotic government. It will be no alleviation, that these powers will be exercised by a plurality of hands, and not by a single one. One hundred and seventythree despots would surely be as oppressive as one. Let those who doubt it, turn their eyes on the republic of Venice. As little will it avail us, that they are chosen by ourselves. An ELECTIVE DESPOTISM was not the government we fought for; but one which should not only be founded on free principles, but in which the powers of government should be so divided and balanced among several bodies of magistracy, as that no one could transcend their legal limits, without being effectually checked and restrained by the others. For this reason, that convention which passed the ordinance of government, laid its foundation on this basis, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments should be separate and distinct, so that no person should exercise the powers of more than one of them at the same time. BUT NO BARRIER WAS PROVIDED BETWEEN THESE SEVERAL POWERS. The judiciary and the executive members were left dependent on the legislative for their subsistence in office, and some of them for their continuance in it. If, therefore, the legislature assumes executive and judiciary powers, no opposition is likely to be made; nor, if made, can be effectual; because in that case they may put their proceedings into the form of acts of Assembly, which will render them obligatory on the other branches. They have accordingly, IN MANY instances, DECIDED RIGHTS which should have been left to JUDICIARY CONTROVERSY, and THE DIRECTION OF THE EXECUTIVE, DURING THE WHOLE TIME OF THEIR SESSION, IS BECOMING HABITUAL AND FAMILIAR.\" The other State which I shall take for an example is Pennsylvania; and the other authority, the Council of Censors, which assembled in the years 1783 and 1784. A part of the duty of this body, as marked out by the constitution, was \"to inquire whether the constitution had been preserved inviolate in every part; and whether the legislative and executive branches of government had performed their duty as guardians of the people, or assumed to themselves, or exercised, other or greater powers than they are entitled to by the constitution.\" In the execution of this trust, the council were necessarily led to a comparison of both the legislative and executive proceedings, with the constitutional powers of these departments; and from the facts enumerated, and to the truth of most of which both sides in the council subscribed, it appears that the constitution had been flagrantly violated by the legislature in a variety of important instances. A great number of laws had been passed, violating, without any apparent necessity, the rule requiring that all bills of a public nature shall be previously printed for the consideration of the people; although this is one of the precautions chiefly relied on by the constitution against improper acts of legislature. The constitutional trial by jury had been violated, and powers assumed which had not been delegated by the constitution. Executive powers had been usurped. The salaries of the judges, which the constitution expressly requires to be fixed, had been occasionally varied; and cases belonging to the judiciary department frequently drawn within legislative cognizance and determination. Those who wish to see the several particulars falling under each of these heads, may consult the journals of the council, which are in print. Some of them, it will be found, may be imputable to peculiar circumstances connected with the war; but the greater part of them may be considered as the spontaneous shoots of an illconstituted government. It appears, also, that the executive department had not been innocent of frequent breaches of the constitution. There are three observations, however, which ought to be made on this head: FIRST, a great proportion of the instances were either immediately produced by the necessities of the war, or recommended by Congress or the commanderinchief; SECOND, in most of the other instances, they conformed either to the declared or the known sentiments of the legislative department; THIRD, the executive department of Pennsylvania is distinguished from that of the other States by the number of members composing it. In this respect, it has as much affinity to a legislative assembly as to an executive council. And being at once exempt from the restraint of an individual responsibility for the acts of the body, and deriving confidence from mutual example and joint influence, unauthorized measures would, of course, be more freely hazarded, than where the executive department is administered by a single hand, or by a few hands. The conclusion which I am warranted in drawing from these observations is, that a mere demarcation on parchment of the constitutional limits of the several departments, is not a sufficient guard against those encroachments which lead to a tyrannical concentration of all the powers of government in the same hands. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 49 Method of Guarding Against the Encroachments of Any One Department of Government by Appealing to the People Through a Convention. For the Independent Journal. Saturday, February 2, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE author of the \"Notes on the State of Virginia,\" quoted in the last paper, has subjoined to that valuable work the draught of a constitution, which had been prepared in order to be laid before a convention, expected to be called in 1783, by the legislature, for the establishment of a constitution for that commonwealth. The plan, like every thing from the same pen, marks a turn of thinking, original, comprehensive, and accurate; and is the more worthy of attention as it equally displays a fervent attachment to republican government and an enlightened view of the dangerous propensities against which it ought to be guarded. One of the precautions which he proposes, and on which he appears ultimately to rely as a palladium to the weaker departments of power against the invasions of the stronger, is perhaps altogether his own, and as it immediately relates to the subject of our present inquiry, ought not to be overlooked. His proposition is, \"that whenever any two of the three branches of government shall concur in opinion, each by the voices of two thirds of their whole number, that a convention is necessary for altering the constitution, or CORRECTING BREACHES OF IT, a convention shall be called for the purpose.\" As the people are the only legitimate fountain of power, and it is from them that the constitutional charter, under which the several branches of government hold their power, is derived, it seems strictly consonant to the republican theory, to recur to the same original authority, not only whenever it may be necessary to enlarge, diminish, or newmodel the powers of the government, but also whenever any one of the departments may commit encroachments on the chartered authorities of the others. The several departments being perfectly coordinate by the terms of their common commission, none of them, it is evident, can pretend to an exclusive or superior right of settling the boundaries between their respective powers; and how are the encroachments of the stronger to be prevented, or the wrongs of the weaker to be redressed, without an appeal to the people themselves, who, as the grantors of the commissions, can alone declare its true meaning, and enforce its observance? There is certainly great force in this reasoning, and it must be allowed to prove that a constitutional road to the decision of the people ought to be marked out and kept open, for certain great and extraordinary occasions. But there appear to be insuperable objections against the proposed recurrence to the people, as a provision in all cases for keeping the several departments of power within their constitutional limits. In the first place, the provision does not reach the case of a combination of two of the departments against the third. If the legislative authority, which possesses so many means of operating on the motives of the other departments, should be able to gain to its interest either of the others, or even one third of its members, the remaining department could derive no advantage from its remedial provision. I do not dwell, however, on this objection, because it may be thought to be rather against the modification of the principle, than against the principle itself. In the next place, it may be considered as an objection inherent in the principle, that as every appeal to the people would carry an implication of some defect in the government, frequent appeals would, in a great measure, deprive the government of that veneration which time bestows on every thing, and without which perhaps the wisest and freest governments would not possess the requisite stability. If it be true that all governments rest on opinion, it is no less true that the strength of opinion in each individual, and its practical influence on his conduct, depend much on the number which he supposes to have entertained the same opinion. The reason of man, like man himself, is timid and cautious when left alone, and acquires firmness and confidence in proportion to the number with which it is associated. When the examples which fortify opinion are ANCIENT as well as NUMEROUS, they are known to have a double effect. In a nation of philosophers, this consideration ought to be disregarded. A reverence for the laws would be sufficiently inculcated by the voice of an enlightened reason. But a nation of philosophers is as little to be expected as the philosophical race of kings wished for by Plato. And in every other nation, the most rational government will not find it a superfluous advantage to have the prejudices of the community on its side. The danger of disturbing the public tranquillity by interesting too strongly the public passions, is a still more serious objection against a frequent reference of constitutional questions to the decision of the whole society. Notwithstanding the success which has attended the revisions of our established forms of government, and which does so much honor to the virtue and intelligence of the people of America, it must be confessed that the experiments are of too ticklish a nature to be unnecessarily multiplied. We are to recollect that all the existing constitutions were formed in the midst of a danger which repressed the passions most unfriendly to order and concord; of an enthusiastic confidence of the people in their patriotic leaders, which stifled the ordinary diversity of opinions on great national questions; of a universal ardor for new and opposite forms, produced by a universal resentment and indignation against the ancient government; and whilst no spirit of party connected with the changes to be made, or the abuses to be reformed, could mingle its leaven in the operation. The future situations in which we must expect to be usually placed, do not present any equivalent security against the danger which is apprehended. But the greatest objection of all is, that the decisions which would probably result from such appeals would not answer the purpose of maintaining the constitutional equilibrium of the government. We have seen that the tendency of republican governments is to an aggrandizement of the legislative at the expense of the other departments. The appeals to the people, therefore, would usually be made by the executive and judiciary departments. But whether made by one side or the other, would each side enjoy equal advantages on the trial? Let us view their different situations. The members of the executive and judiciary departments are few in number, and can be personally known to a small part only of the people. The latter, by the mode of their appointment, as well as by the nature and permanency of it, are too far removed from the people to share much in their prepossessions. The former are generally the objects of jealousy, and their administration is always liable to be discolored and rendered unpopular. The members of the legislative department, on the other hand, are numerous. They are distributed and dwell among the people at large. Their connections of blood, of friendship, and of acquaintance embrace a great proportion of the most influential part of the society. The nature of their public trust implies a personal influence among the people, and that they are more immediately the confidential guardians of the rights and liberties of the people. With these advantages, it can hardly be supposed that the adverse party would have an equal chance for a favorable issue. But the legislative party would not only be able to plead their cause most successfully with the people. They would probably be constituted themselves the judges. The same influence which had gained them an election into the legislature, would gain them a seat in the convention. If this should not be the case with all, it would probably be the case with many, and pretty certainly with those leading characters, on whom every thing depends in such bodies. The convention, in short, would be composed chiefly of men who had been, who actually were, or who expected to be, members of the department whose conduct was arraigned. They would consequently be parties to the very question to be decided by them. It might, however, sometimes happen, that appeals would be made under circumstances less adverse to the executive and judiciary departments. The usurpations of the legislature might be so flagrant and so sudden, as to admit of no specious coloring. A strong party among themselves might take side with the other branches. The executive power might be in the hands of a peculiar favorite of the people. In such a posture of things, the public decision might be less swayed by prepossessions in favor of the legislative party. But still it could never be expected to turn on the true merits of the question. It would inevitably be connected with the spirit of preexisting parties, or of parties springing out of the question itself. It would be connected with persons of distinguished character and extensive influence in the community. It would be pronounced by the very men who had been agents in, or opponents of, the measures to which the decision would relate. The PASSIONS, therefore, not the REASON, of the public would sit in judgment. But it is the reason, alone, of the public, that ought to control and regulate the government. The passions ought to be controlled and regulated by the government. We found in the last paper, that mere declarations in the written constitution are not sufficient to restrain the several departments within their legal rights. It appears in this, that occasional appeals to the people would be neither a proper nor an effectual provision for that purpose. How far the provisions of a different nature contained in the plan above quoted might be adequate, I do not examine. Some of them are unquestionably founded on sound political principles, and all of them are framed with singular ingenuity and precision. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 50 Periodical Appeals to the People Considered From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 5, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: IT MAY be contended, perhaps, that instead of OCCASIONAL appeals to the people, which are liable to the objections urged against them, PERIODICAL appeals are the proper and adequate means of PREVENTING AND CORRECTING INFRACTIONS OF THE CONSTITUTION. It will be attended to, that in the examination of these expedients, I confine myself to their aptitude for ENFORCING the Constitution, by keeping the several departments of power within their due bounds, without particularly considering them as provisions for ALTERING the Constitution itself. In the first view, appeals to the people at fixed periods appear to be nearly as ineligible as appeals on particular occasions as they emerge. If the periods be separated by short intervals, the measures to be reviewed and rectified will have been of recent date, and will be connected with all the circumstances which tend to vitiate and pervert the result of occasional revisions. If the periods be distant from each other, the same remark will be applicable to all recent measures; and in proportion as the remoteness of the others may favor a dispassionate review of them, this advantage is inseparable from inconveniences which seem to counterbalance it. In the first place, a distant prospect of public censure would be a very feeble restraint on power from those excesses to which it might be urged by the force of present motives. Is it to be imagined that a legislative assembly, consisting of a hundred or two hundred members, eagerly bent on some favorite object, and breaking through the restraints of the Constitution in pursuit of it, would be arrested in their career, by considerations drawn from a censorial revision of their conduct at the future distance of ten, fifteen, or twenty years? In the next place, the abuses would often have completed their mischievous effects before the remedial provision would be applied. And in the last place, where this might not be the case, they would be of long standing, would have taken deep root, and would not easily be extirpated. The scheme of revising the constitution, in order to correct recent breaches of it, as well as for other purposes, has been actually tried in one of the States. One of the objects of the Council of Censors which met in Pennsylvania in 1783 and 1784, was, as we have seen, to inquire, \"whether the constitution had been violated, and whether the legislative and executive departments had encroached upon each other.\" This important and novel experiment in politics merits, in several points of view, very particular attention. In some of them it may, perhaps, as a single experiment, made under circumstances somewhat peculiar, be thought to be not absolutely conclusive. But as applied to the case under consideration, it involves some facts, which I venture to remark, as a complete and satisfactory illustration of the reasoning which I have employed. First. It appears, from the names of the gentlemen who composed the council, that some, at least, of its most active members had also been active and leading characters in the parties which preexisted in the State. Second. It appears that the same active and leading members of the council had been active and influential members of the legislative and executive branches, within the period to be reviewed; and even patrons or opponents of the very measures to be thus brought to the test of the constitution. Two of the members had been vicepresidents of the State, and several other members of the executive council, within the seven preceding years. One of them had been speaker, and a number of others distinguished members, of the legislative assembly within the same period. Third. Every page of their proceedings witnesses the effect of all these circumstances on the temper of their deliberations. Throughout the continuance of the council, it was split into two fixed and violent parties. The fact is acknowledged and lamented by themselves. Had this not been the case, the face of their proceedings exhibits a proof equally satisfactory. In all questions, however unimportant in themselves, or unconnected with each other, the same names stand invariably contrasted on the opposite columns. Every unbiased observer may infer, without danger of mistake, and at the same time without meaning to reflect on either party, or any individuals of either party, that, unfortunately, PASSION, not REASON, must have presided over their decisions. When men exercise their reason coolly and freely on a variety of distinct questions, they inevitably fall into different opinions on some of them. When they are governed by a common passion, their opinions, if they are so to be called, will be the same. Fourth. It is at least problematical, whether the decisions of this body do not, in several instances, misconstrue the limits prescribed for the legislative and executive departments, instead of reducing and limiting them within their constitutional places. Fifth. I have never understood that the decisions of the council on constitutional questions, whether rightly or erroneously formed, have had any effect in varying the practice founded on legislative constructions. It even appears, if I mistake not, that in one instance the contemporary legislature denied the constructions of the council, and actually prevailed in the contest. This censorial body, therefore, proves at the same time, by its researches, the existence of the disease, and by its example, the inefficacy of the remedy. This conclusion cannot be invalidated by alleging that the State in which the experiment was made was at that crisis, and had been for a long time before, violently heated and distracted by the rage of party. Is it to be presumed, that at any future septennial epoch the same State will be free from parties? Is it to be presumed that any other State, at the same or any other given period, will be exempt from them? Such an event ought to be neither presumed nor desired; because an extinction of parties necessarily implies either a universal alarm for the public safety, or an absolute extinction of liberty. Were the precaution taken of excluding from the assemblies elected by the people, to revise the preceding administration of the government, all persons who should have been concerned with the government within the given period, the difficulties would not be obviated. The important task would probably devolve on men, who, with inferior capacities, would in other respects be little better qualified. Although they might not have been personally concerned in the administration, and therefore not immediately agents in the measures to be examined, they would probably have been involved in the parties connected with these measures, and have been elected under their auspices. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 51 The Structure of the Government Must Furnish the Proper Checks and Balances Between the Different Departments. For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, February 6, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: TO WHAT expedient, then, shall we finally resort, for maintaining in practice the necessary partition of power among the several departments, as laid down in the Constitution? The only answer that can be given is, that as all these exterior provisions are found to be inadequate, the defect must be supplied, by so contriving the interior structure of the government as that its several constituent parts may, by their mutual relations, be the means of keeping each other in their proper places. Without presuming to undertake a full development of this important idea, I will hazard a few general observations, which may perhaps place it in a clearer light, and enable us to form a more correct judgment of the principles and structure of the government planned by the convention. In order to lay a due foundation for that separate and distinct exercise of the different powers of government, which to a certain extent is admitted on all hands to be essential to the preservation of liberty, it is evident that each department should have a will of its own; and consequently should be so constituted that the members of each should have as little agency as possible in the appointment of the members of the others. Were this principle rigorously adhered to, it would require that all the appointments for the supreme executive, legislative, and judiciary magistracies should be drawn from the same fountain of authority, the people, through channels having no communication whatever with one another. Perhaps such a plan of constructing the several departments would be less difficult in practice than it may in contemplation appear. Some difficulties, however, and some additional expense would attend the execution of it. Some deviations, therefore, from the principle must be admitted. In the constitution of the judiciary department in particular, it might be inexpedient to insist rigorously on the principle: first, because peculiar qualifications being essential in the members, the primary consideration ought to be to select that mode of choice which best secures these qualifications; secondly, because the permanent tenure by which the appointments are held in that department, must soon destroy all sense of dependence on the authority conferring them. It is equally evident, that the members of each department should be as little dependent as possible on those of the others, for the emoluments annexed to their offices. Were the executive magistrate, or the judges, not independent of the legislature in this particular, their independence in every other would be merely nominal. But the great security against a gradual concentration of the several powers in the same department, consists in giving to those who administer each department the necessary constitutional means and personal motives to resist encroachments of the others. The provision for defense must in this, as in all other cases, be made commensurate to the danger of attack. Ambition must be made to counteract ambition. The interest of the man must be connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be a reflection on human nature, that such devices should be necessary to control the abuses of government. But what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself. A dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary control on the government; but experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions. This policy of supplying, by opposite and rival interests, the defect of better motives, might be traced through the whole system of human affairs, private as well as public. We see it particularly displayed in all the subordinate distributions of power, where the constant aim is to divide and arrange the several offices in such a manner as that each may be a check on the otherthat the private interest of every individual may be a sentinel over the public rights. These inventions of prudence cannot be less requisite in the distribution of the supreme powers of the State. But it is not possible to give to each department an equal power of selfdefense. In republican government, the legislative authority necessarily predominates. The remedy for this inconveniency is to divide the legislature into different branches; and to render them, by different modes of election and different principles of action, as little connected with each other as the nature of their common functions and their common dependence on the society will admit. It may even be necessary to guard against dangerous encroachments by still further precautions. As the weight of the legislative authority requires that it should be thus divided, the weakness of the executive may require, on the other hand, that it should be fortified. An absolute negative on the legislature appears, at first view, to be the natural defense with which the executive magistrate should be armed. But perhaps it would be neither altogether safe nor alone sufficient. On ordinary occasions it might not be exerted with the requisite firmness, and on extraordinary occasions it might be perfidiously abused. May not this defect of an absolute negative be supplied by some qualified connection between this weaker department and the weaker branch of the stronger department, by which the latter may be led to support the constitutional rights of the former, without being too much detached from the rights of its own department? If the principles on which these observations are founded be just, as I persuade myself they are, and they be applied as a criterion to the several State constitutions, and to the federal Constitution it will be found that if the latter does not perfectly correspond with them, the former are infinitely less able to bear such a test. There are, moreover, two considerations particularly applicable to the federal system of America, which place that system in a very interesting point of view. First. In a single republic, all the power surrendered by the people is submitted to the administration of a single government; and the usurpations are guarded against by a division of the government into distinct and separate departments. In the compound republic of America, the power surrendered by the people is first divided between two distinct governments, and then the portion allotted to each subdivided among distinct and separate departments. Hence a double security arises to the rights of the people. The different governments will control each other, at the same time that each will be controlled by itself. Second. It is of great importance in a republic not only to guard the society against the oppression of its rulers, but to guard one part of the society against the injustice of the other part. Different interests necessarily exist in different classes of citizens. If a majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will be insecure. There are but two methods of providing against this evil: the one by creating a will in the community independent of the majoritythat is, of the society itself; the other, by comprehending in the society so many separate descriptions of citizens as will render an unjust combination of a majority of the whole very improbable, if not impracticable. The first method prevails in all governments possessing an hereditary or selfappointed authority. This, at best, is but a precarious security; because a power independent of the society may as well espouse the unjust views of the major, as the rightful interests of the minor party, and may possibly be turned against both parties. The second method will be exemplified in the federal republic of the United States. Whilst all authority in it will be derived from and dependent on the society, the society itself will be broken into so many parts, interests, and classes of citizens, that the rights of individuals, or of the minority, will be in little danger from interested combinations of the majority. In a free government the security for civil rights must be the same as that for religious rights. It consists in the one case in the multiplicity of interests, and in the other in the multiplicity of sects. The degree of security in both cases will depend on the number of interests and sects; and this may be presumed to depend on the extent of country and number of people comprehended under the same government. This view of the subject must particularly recommend a proper federal system to all the sincere and considerate friends of republican government, since it shows that in exact proportion as the territory of the Union may be formed into more circumscribed Confederacies, or States oppressive combinations of a majority will be facilitated: the best security, under the republican forms, for the rights of every class of citizens, will be diminished: and consequently the stability and independence of some member of the government, the only other security, must be proportionately increased. Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit. In a society under the forms of which the stronger faction can readily unite and oppress the weaker, anarchy may as truly be said to reign as in a state of nature, where the weaker individual is not secured against the violence of the stronger; and as, in the latter state, even the stronger individuals are prompted, by the uncertainty of their condition, to submit to a government which may protect the weak as well as themselves; so, in the former state, will the more powerful factions or parties be gradually induced, by a like motive, to wish for a government which will protect all parties, the weaker as well as the more powerful. It can be little doubted that if the State of Rhode Island was separated from the Confederacy and left to itself, the insecurity of rights under the popular form of government within such narrow limits would be displayed by such reiterated oppressions of factious majorities that some power altogether independent of the people would soon be called for by the voice of the very factions whose misrule had proved the necessity of it. In the extended republic of the United States, and among the great variety of interests, parties, and sects which it embraces, a coalition of a majority of the whole society could seldom take place on any other principles than those of justice and the general good; whilst there being thus less danger to a minor from the will of a major party, there must be less pretext, also, to provide for the security of the former, by introducing into the government a will not dependent on the latter, or, in other words, a will independent of the society itself. It is no less certain than it is important, notwithstanding the contrary opinions which have been entertained, that the larger the society, provided it lie within a practical sphere, the more duly capable it will be of selfgovernment. And happily for the REPUBLICAN CAUSE, the practicable sphere may be carried to a very great extent, by a judicious modification and mixture of the FEDERAL PRINCIPLE. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 52 The House of Representatives From the New York Packet. Friday, February 8, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: FROM the more general inquiries pursued in the four last papers, I pass on to a more particular examination of the several parts of the government. I shall begin with the House of Representatives. The first view to be taken of this part of the government relates to the qualifications of the electors and the elected. Those of the former are to be the same with those of the electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures. The definition of the right of suffrage is very justly regarded as a fundamental article of republican government. It was incumbent on the convention, therefore, to define and establish this right in the Constitution. To have left it open for the occasional regulation of the Congress, would have been improper for the reason just mentioned. To have submitted it to the legislative discretion of the States, would have been improper for the same reason; and for the additional reason that it would have rendered too dependent on the State governments that branch of the federal government which ought to be dependent on the people alone. To have reduced the different qualifications in the different States to one uniform rule, would probably have been as dissatisfactory to some of the States as it would have been difficult to the convention. The provision made by the convention appears, therefore, to be the best that lay within their option. It must be satisfactory to every State, because it is conformable to the standard already established, or which may be established, by the State itself. It will be safe to the United States, because, being fixed by the State constitutions, it is not alterable by the State governments, and it cannot be feared that the people of the States will alter this part of their constitutions in such a manner as to abridge the rights secured to them by the federal Constitution. The qualifications of the elected, being less carefully and properly defined by the State constitutions, and being at the same time more susceptible of uniformity, have been very properly considered and regulated by the convention. A representative of the United States must be of the age of twentyfive years; must have been seven years a citizen of the United States; must, at the time of his election, be an inhabitant of the State he is to represent; and, during the time of his service, must be in no office under the United States. Under these reasonable limitations, the door of this part of the federal government is open to merit of every description, whether native or adoptive, whether young or old, and without regard to poverty or wealth, or to any particular profession of religious faith. The term for which the representatives are to be elected falls under a second view which may be taken of this branch. In order to decide on the propriety of this article, two questions must be considered: first, whether biennial elections will, in this case, be safe; secondly, whether they be necessary or useful. First. As it is essential to liberty that the government in general should have a common interest with the people, so it is particularly essential that the branch of it under consideration should have an immediate dependence on, and an intimate sympathy with, the people. Frequent elections are unquestionably the only policy by which this dependence and sympathy can be effectually secured. But what particular degree of frequency may be absolutely necessary for the purpose, does not appear to be susceptible of any precise calculation, and must depend on a variety of circumstances with which it may be connected. Let us consult experience, the guide that ought always to be followed whenever it can be found. The scheme of representation, as a substitute for a meeting of the citizens in person, being at most but very imperfectly known to ancient polity, it is in more modern times only that we are to expect instructive examples. And even here, in order to avoid a research too vague and diffusive, it will be proper to confine ourselves to the few examples which are best known, and which bear the greatest analogy to our particular case. The first to which this character ought to be applied, is the House of Commons in Great Britain. The history of this branch of the English Constitution, anterior to the date of Magna Charta, is too obscure to yield instruction. The very existence of it has been made a question among political antiquaries. The earliest records of subsequent date prove that parliaments were to SIT only every year; not that they were to be ELECTED every year. And even these annual sessions were left so much at the discretion of the monarch, that, under various pretexts, very long and dangerous intermissions were often contrived by royal ambition. To remedy this grievance, it was provided by a statute in the reign of Charles II, that the intermissions should not be protracted beyond a period of three years. On the accession of William III, when a revolution took place in the government, the subject was still more seriously resumed, and it was declared to be among the fundamental rights of the people that parliaments ought to be held FREQUENTLY. By another statute, which passed a few years later in the same reign, the term \"frequently,\" which had alluded to the triennial period settled in the time of Charles II, is reduced to a precise meaning, it being expressly enacted that a new parliament shall be called within three years after the termination of the former. The last change, from three to seven years, is well known to have been introduced pretty early in the present century, under an alarm for the Hanoverian succession. From these facts it appears that the greatest frequency of elections which has been deemed necessary in that kingdom, for binding the representatives to their constituents, does not exceed a triennial return of them. And if we may argue from the degree of liberty retained even under septennial elections, and all the other vicious ingredients in the parliamentary constitution, we cannot doubt that a reduction of the period from seven to three years, with the other necessary reforms, would so far extend the influence of the people over their representatives as to satisfy us that biennial elections, under the federal system, cannot possibly be dangerous to the requisite dependence of the House of Representatives on their constituents. Elections in Ireland, till of late, were regulated entirely by the discretion of the crown, and were seldom repeated, except on the accession of a new prince, or some other contingent event. The parliament which commenced with George II. was continued throughout his whole reign, a period of about thirtyfive years. The only dependence of the representatives on the people consisted in the right of the latter to supply occasional vacancies by the election of new members, and in the chance of some event which might produce a general new election. The ability also of the Irish parliament to maintain the rights of their constituents, so far as the disposition might exist, was extremely shackled by the control of the crown over the subjects of their deliberation. Of late these shackles, if I mistake not, have been broken; and octennial parliaments have besides been established. What effect may be produced by this partial reform, must be left to further experience. The example of Ireland, from this view of it, can throw but little light on the subject. As far as we can draw any conclusion from it, it must be that if the people of that country have been able under all these disadvantages to retain any liberty whatever, the advantage of biennial elections would secure to them every degree of liberty, which might depend on a due connection between their representatives and themselves. Let us bring our inquiries nearer home. The example of these States, when British colonies, claims particular attention, at the same time that it is so well known as to require little to be said on it. The principle of representation, in one branch of the legislature at least, was established in all of them. But the periods of election were different. They varied from one to seven years. Have we any reason to infer, from the spirit and conduct of the representatives of the people, prior to the Revolution, that biennial elections would have been dangerous to the public liberties? The spirit which everywhere displayed itself at the commencement of the struggle, and which vanquished the obstacles to independence, is the best of proofs that a sufficient portion of liberty had been everywhere enjoyed to inspire both a sense of its worth and a zeal for its proper enlargement This remark holds good, as well with regard to the then colonies whose elections were least frequent, as to those whose elections were most frequent Virginia was the colony which stood first in resisting the parliamentary usurpations of Great Britain; it was the first also in espousing, by public act, the resolution of independence. In Virginia, nevertheless, if I have not been misinformed, elections under the former government were septennial. This particular example is brought into view, not as a proof of any peculiar merit, for the priority in those instances was probably accidental; and still less of any advantage in SEPTENNIAL elections, for when compared with a greater frequency they are inadmissible; but merely as a proof, and I conceive it to be a very substantial proof, that the liberties of the people can be in no danger from BIENNIAL elections. The conclusion resulting from these examples will be not a little strengthened by recollecting three circumstances. The first is, that the federal legislature will possess a part only of that supreme legislative authority which is vested completely in the British Parliament; and which, with a few exceptions, was exercised by the colonial assemblies and the Irish legislature. It is a received and wellfounded maxim, that where no other circumstances affect the case, the greater the power is, the shorter ought to be its duration; and, conversely, the smaller the power, the more safely may its duration be protracted. In the second place, it has, on another occasion, been shown that the federal legislature will not only be restrained by its dependence on its people, as other legislative bodies are, but that it will be, moreover, watched and controlled by the several collateral legislatures, which other legislative bodies are not. And in the third place, no comparison can be made between the means that will be possessed by the more permanent branches of the federal government for seducing, if they should be disposed to seduce, the House of Representatives from their duty to the people, and the means of influence over the popular branch possessed by the other branches of the government above cited. With less power, therefore, to abuse, the federal representatives can be less tempted on one side, and will be doubly watched on the other. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 53 The Same Subject Continued (The House of Representatives) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, February 9, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: I SHALL here, perhaps, be reminded of a current observation, \"that where annual elections end, tyranny begins.\" If it be true, as has often been remarked, that sayings which become proverbial are generally founded in reason, it is not less true, that when once established, they are often applied to cases to which the reason of them does not extend. I need not look for a proof beyond the case before us. What is the reason on which this proverbial observation is founded? No man will subject himself to the ridicule of pretending that any natural connection subsists between the sun or the seasons, and the period within which human virtue can bear the temptations of power. Happily for mankind, liberty is not, in this respect, confined to any single point of time; but lies within extremes, which afford sufficient latitude for all the variations which may be required by the various situations and circumstances of civil society. The election of magistrates might be, if it were found expedient, as in some instances it actually has been, daily, weekly, or monthly, as well as annual; and if circumstances may require a deviation from the rule on one side, why not also on the other side? Turning our attention to the periods established among ourselves, for the election of the most numerous branches of the State legislatures, we find them by no means coinciding any more in this instance, than in the elections of other civil magistrates. In Connecticut and Rhode Island, the periods are halfyearly. In the other States, South Carolina excepted, they are annual. In South Carolina they are biennialas is proposed in the federal government. Here is a difference, as four to one, between the longest and shortest periods; and yet it would be not easy to show, that Connecticut or Rhode Island is better governed, or enjoys a greater share of rational liberty, than South Carolina; or that either the one or the other of these States is distinguished in these respects, and by these causes, from the States whose elections are different from both. In searching for the grounds of this doctrine, I can discover but one, and that is wholly inapplicable to our case. The important distinction so well understood in America, between a Constitution established by the people and unalterable by the government, and a law established by the government and alterable by the government, seems to have been little understood and less observed in any other country. Wherever the supreme power of legislation has resided, has been supposed to reside also a full power to change the form of the government. Even in Great Britain, where the principles of political and civil liberty have been most discussed, and where we hear most of the rights of the Constitution, it is maintained that the authority of the Parliament is transcendent and uncontrollable, as well with regard to the Constitution, as the ordinary objects of legislative provision. They have accordingly, in several instances, actually changed, by legislative acts, some of the most fundamental articles of the government. They have in particular, on several occasions, changed the period of election; and, on the last occasion, not only introduced septennial in place of triennial elections, but by the same act, continued themselves in place four years beyond the term for which they were elected by the people. An attention to these dangerous practices has produced a very natural alarm in the votaries of free government, of which frequency of elections is the cornerstone; and has led them to seek for some security to liberty, against the danger to which it is exposed. Where no Constitution, paramount to the government, either existed or could be obtained, no constitutional security, similar to that established in the United States, was to be attempted. Some other security, therefore, was to be sought for; and what better security would the case admit, than that of selecting and appealing to some simple and familiar portion of time, as a standard for measuring the danger of innovations, for fixing the national sentiment, and for uniting the patriotic exertions? The most simple and familiar portion of time, applicable to the subject was that of a year; and hence the doctrine has been inculcated by a laudable zeal, to erect some barrier against the gradual innovations of an unlimited government, that the advance towards tyranny was to be calculated by the distance of departure from the fixed point of annual elections. But what necessity can there be of applying this expedient to a government limited, as the federal government will be, by the authority of a paramount Constitution? Or who will pretend that the liberties of the people of America will not be more secure under biennial elections, unalterably fixed by such a Constitution, than those of any other nation would be, where elections were annual, or even more frequent, but subject to alterations by the ordinary power of the government? The second question stated is, whether biennial elections be necessary or useful. The propriety of answering this question in the affirmative will appear from several very obvious considerations. No man can be a competent legislator who does not add to an upright intention and a sound judgment a certain degree of knowledge of the subjects on which he is to legislate. A part of this knowledge may be acquired by means of information which lie within the compass of men in private as well as public stations. Another part can only be attained, or at least thoroughly attained, by actual experience in the station which requires the use of it. The period of service, ought, therefore, in all such cases, to bear some proportion to the extent of practical knowledge requisite to the due performance of the service. The period of legislative service established in most of the States for the more numerous branch is, as we have seen, one year. The question then may be put into this simple form: does the period of two years bear no greater proportion to the knowledge requisite for federal legislation than one year does to the knowledge requisite for State legislation? The very statement of the question, in this form, suggests the answer that ought to be given to it. In a single State, the requisite knowledge relates to the existing laws which are uniform throughout the State, and with which all the citizens are more or less conversant; and to the general affairs of the State, which lie within a small compass, are not very diversified, and occupy much of the attention and conversation of every class of people. The great theatre of the United States presents a very different scene. The laws are so far from being uniform, that they vary in every State; whilst the public affairs of the Union are spread throughout a very extensive region, and are extremely diversified by the local affairs connected with them, and can with difficulty be correctly learnt in any other place than in the central councils to which a knowledge of them will be brought by the representatives of every part of the empire. Yet some knowledge of the affairs, and even of the laws, of all the States, ought to be possessed by the members from each of the States. How can foreign trade be properly regulated by uniform laws, without some acquaintance with the commerce, the ports, the usages, and the regulations of the different States? How can the trade between the different States be duly regulated, without some knowledge of their relative situations in these and other respects? How can taxes be judiciously imposed and effectually collected, if they be not accommodated to the different laws and local circumstances relating to these objects in the different States? How can uniform regulations for the militia be duly provided, without a similar knowledge of many internal circumstances by which the States are distinguished from each other? These are the principal objects of federal legislation, and suggest most forcibly the extensive information which the representatives ought to acquire. The other interior objects will require a proportional degree of information with regard to them. It is true that all these difficulties will, by degrees, be very much diminished. The most laborious task will be the proper inauguration of the government and the primeval formation of a federal code. Improvements on the first draughts will every year become both easier and fewer. Past transactions of the government will be a ready and accurate source of information to new members. The affairs of the Union will become more and more objects of curiosity and conversation among the citizens at large. And the increased intercourse among those of different States will contribute not a little to diffuse a mutual knowledge of their affairs, as this again will contribute to a general assimilation of their manners and laws. But with all these abatements, the business of federal legislation must continue so far to exceed, both in novelty and difficulty, the legislative business of a single State, as to justify the longer period of service assigned to those who are to transact it. A branch of knowledge which belongs to the acquirements of a federal representative, and which has not been mentioned is that of foreign affairs. In regulating our own commerce he ought to be not only acquainted with the treaties between the United States and other nations, but also with the commercial policy and laws of other nations. He ought not to be altogether ignorant of the law of nations; for that, as far as it is a proper object of municipal legislation, is submitted to the federal government. And although the House of Representatives is not immediately to participate in foreign negotiations and arrangements, yet from the necessary connection between the several branches of public affairs, those particular branches will frequently deserve attention in the ordinary course of legislation, and will sometimes demand particular legislative sanction and cooperation. Some portion of this knowledge may, no doubt, be acquired in a man's closet; but some of it also can only be derived from the public sources of information; and all of it will be acquired to best effect by a practical attention to the subject during the period of actual service in the legislature. There are other considerations, of less importance, perhaps, but which are not unworthy of notice. The distance which many of the representatives will be obliged to travel, and the arrangements rendered necessary by that circumstance, might be much more serious objections with fit men to this service, if limited to a single year, than if extended to two years. No argument can be drawn on this subject, from the case of the delegates to the existing Congress. They are elected annually, it is true; but their reelection is considered by the legislative assemblies almost as a matter of course. The election of the representatives by the people would not be governed by the same principle. A few of the members, as happens in all such assemblies, will possess superior talents; will, by frequent reelections, become members of long standing; will be thoroughly masters of the public business, and perhaps not unwilling to avail themselves of those advantages. The greater the proportion of new members, and the less the information of the bulk of the members the more apt will they be to fall into the snares that may be laid for them. This remark is no less applicable to the relation which will subsist between the House of Representatives and the Senate. It is an inconvenience mingled with the advantages of our frequent elections even in single States, where they are large, and hold but one legislative session in a year, that spurious elections cannot be investigated and annulled in time for the decision to have its due effect. If a return can be obtained, no matter by what unlawful means, the irregular member, who takes his seat of course, is sure of holding it a sufficient time to answer his purposes. Hence, a very pernicious encouragement is given to the use of unlawful means, for obtaining irregular returns. Were elections for the federal legislature to be annual, this practice might become a very serious abuse, particularly in the more distant States. Each house is, as it necessarily must be, the judge of the elections, qualifications, and returns of its members; and whatever improvements may be suggested by experience, for simplifying and accelerating the process in disputed cases, so great a portion of a year would unavoidably elapse, before an illegitimate member could be dispossessed of his seat, that the prospect of such an event would be little check to unfair and illicit means of obtaining a seat. All these considerations taken together warrant us in affirming, that biennial elections will be as useful to the affairs of the public as we have seen that they will be safe to the liberty of the people. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 54 The Apportionment of Members Among the States From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 12, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE next view which I shall take of the House of Representatives relates to the appointment of its members to the several States which is to be determined by the same rule with that of direct taxes. It is not contended that the number of people in each State ought not to be the standard for regulating the proportion of those who are to represent the people of each State. The establishment of the same rule for the appointment of taxes, will probably be as little contested; though the rule itself in this case, is by no means founded on the same principle. In the former case, the rule is understood to refer to the personal rights of the people, with which it has a natural and universal connection. In the latter, it has reference to the proportion of wealth, of which it is in no case a precise measure, and in ordinary cases a very unfit one. But notwithstanding the imperfection of the rule as applied to the relative wealth and contributions of the States, it is evidently the least objectionable among the practicable rules, and had too recently obtained the general sanction of America, not to have found a ready preference with the convention. All this is admitted, it will perhaps be said; but does it follow, from an admission of numbers for the measure of representation, or of slaves combined with free citizens as a ratio of taxation, that slaves ought to be included in the numerical rule of representation? Slaves are considered as property, not as persons. They ought therefore to be comprehended in estimates of taxation which are founded on property, and to be excluded from representation which is regulated by a census of persons. This is the objection, as I understand it, stated in its full force. I shall be equally candid in stating the reasoning which may be offered on the opposite side. \"We subscribe to the doctrine,\" might one of our Southern brethren observe, \"that representation relates more immediately to persons, and taxation more immediately to property, and we join in the application of this distinction to the case of our slaves. But we must deny the fact, that slaves are considered merely as property, and in no respect whatever as persons. The true state of the case is, that they partake of both these qualities: being considered by our laws, in some respects, as persons, and in other respects as property. In being compelled to labor, not for himself, but for a master; in being vendible by one master to another master; and in being subject at all times to be restrained in his liberty and chastised in his body, by the capricious will of anotherthe slave may appear to be degraded from the human rank, and classed with those irrational animals which fall under the legal denomination of property. In being protected, on the other hand, in his life and in his limbs, against the violence of all others, even the master of his labor and his liberty; and in being punishable himself for all violence committed against othersthe slave is no less evidently regarded by the law as a member of the society, not as a part of the irrational creation; as a moral person, not as a mere article of property. The federal Constitution, therefore, decides with great propriety on the case of our slaves, when it views them in the mixed character of persons and of property. This is in fact their true character. It is the character bestowed on them by the laws under which they live; and it will not be denied, that these are the proper criterion; because it is only under the pretext that the laws have transformed the negroes into subjects of property, that a place is disputed them in the computation of numbers; and it is admitted, that if the laws were to restore the rights which have been taken away, the negroes could no longer be refused an equal share of representation with the other inhabitants. \"This question may be placed in another light. It is agreed on all sides, that numbers are the best scale of wealth and taxation, as they are the only proper scale of representation. Would the convention have been impartial or consistent, if they had rejected the slaves from the list of inhabitants, when the shares of representation were to be calculated, and inserted them on the lists when the tariff of contributions was to be adjusted? Could it be reasonably expected, that the Southern States would concur in a system, which considered their slaves in some degree as men, when burdens were to be imposed, but refused to consider them in the same light, when advantages were to be conferred? Might not some surprise also be expressed, that those who reproach the Southern States with the barbarous policy of considering as property a part of their human brethren, should themselves contend, that the government to which all the States are to be parties, ought to consider this unfortunate race more completely in the unnatural light of property, than the very laws of which they complain? \"It may be replied, perhaps, that slaves are not included in the estimate of representatives in any of the States possessing them. They neither vote themselves nor increase the votes of their masters. Upon what principle, then, ought they to be taken into the federal estimate of representation? In rejecting them altogether, the Constitution would, in this respect, have followed the very laws which have been appealed to as the proper guide. \"This objection is repelled by a single observation. It is a fundamental principle of the proposed Constitution, that as the aggregate number of representatives allotted to the several States is to be determined by a federal rule, founded on the aggregate number of inhabitants, so the right of choosing this allotted number in each State is to be exercised by such part of the inhabitants as the State itself may designate. The qualifications on which the right of suffrage depend are not, perhaps, the same in any two States. In some of the States the difference is very material. In every State, a certain proportion of inhabitants are deprived of this right by the constitution of the State, who will be included in the census by which the federal Constitution apportions the representatives. In this point of view the Southern States might retort the complaint, by insisting that the principle laid down by the convention required that no regard should be had to the policy of particular States towards their own inhabitants; and consequently, that the slaves, as inhabitants, should have been admitted into the census according to their full number, in like manner with other inhabitants, who, by the policy of other States, are not admitted to all the rights of citizens. A rigorous adherence, however, to this principle, is waived by those who would be gainers by it. All that they ask is that equal moderation be shown on the other side. Let the case of the slaves be considered, as it is in truth, a peculiar one. Let the compromising expedient of the Constitution be mutually adopted, which regards them as inhabitants, but as debased by servitude below the equal level of free inhabitants, which regards the SLAVE as divested of two fifths of the MAN. \"After all, may not another ground be taken on which this article of the Constitution will admit of a still more ready defense? We have hitherto proceeded on the idea that representation related to persons only, and not at all to property. But is it a just idea? Government is instituted no less for protection of the property, than of the persons, of individuals. The one as well as the other, therefore, may be considered as represented by those who are charged with the government. Upon this principle it is, that in several of the States, and particularly in the State of New York, one branch of the government is intended more especially to be the guardian of property, and is accordingly elected by that part of the society which is most interested in this object of government. In the federal Constitution, this policy does not prevail. The rights of property are committed into the same hands with the personal rights. Some attention ought, therefore, to be paid to property in the choice of those hands. \"For another reason, the votes allowed in the federal legislature to the people of each State, ought to bear some proportion to the comparative wealth of the States. States have not, like individuals, an influence over each other, arising from superior advantages of fortune. If the law allows an opulent citizen but a single vote in the choice of his representative, the respect and consequence which he derives from his fortunate situation very frequently guide the votes of others to the objects of his choice; and through this imperceptible channel the rights of property are conveyed into the public representation. A State possesses no such influence over other States. It is not probable that the richest State in the Confederacy will ever influence the choice of a single representative in any other State. Nor will the representatives of the larger and richer States possess any other advantage in the federal legislature, over the representatives of other States, than what may result from their superior number alone. As far, therefore, as their superior wealth and weight may justly entitle them to any advantage, it ought to be secured to them by a superior share of representation. The new Constitution is, in this respect, materially different from the existing Confederation, as well as from that of the United Netherlands, and other similar confederacies. In each of the latter, the efficacy of the federal resolutions depends on the subsequent and voluntary resolutions of the states composing the union. Hence the states, though possessing an equal vote in the public councils, have an unequal influence, corresponding with the unequal importance of these subsequent and voluntary resolutions. Under the proposed Constitution, the federal acts will take effect without the necessary intervention of the individual States. They will depend merely on the majority of votes in the federal legislature, and consequently each vote, whether proceeding from a larger or smaller State, or a State more or less wealthy or powerful, will have an equal weight and efficacy: in the same manner as the votes individually given in a State legislature, by the representatives of unequal counties or other districts, have each a precise equality of value and effect; or if there be any difference in the case, it proceeds from the difference in the personal character of the individual representative, rather than from any regard to the extent of the district from which he comes.\" Such is the reasoning which an advocate for the Southern interests might employ on this subject; and although it may appear to be a little strained in some points, yet, on the whole, I must confess that it fully reconciles me to the scale of representation which the convention have established. In one respect, the establishment of a common measure for representation and taxation will have a very salutary effect. As the accuracy of the census to be obtained by the Congress will necessarily depend, in a considerable degree on the disposition, if not on the cooperation, of the States, it is of great importance that the States should feel as little bias as possible, to swell or to reduce the amount of their numbers. Were their share of representation alone to be governed by this rule, they would have an interest in exaggerating their inhabitants. Were the rule to decide their share of taxation alone, a contrary temptation would prevail. By extending the rule to both objects, the States will have opposite interests, which will control and balance each other, and produce the requisite impartiality. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 55 The Total Number of the House of Representatives For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, February 13, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE number of which the House of Representatives is to consist, forms another and a very interesting point of view, under which this branch of the federal legislature may be contemplated. Scarce any article, indeed, in the whole Constitution seems to be rendered more worthy of attention, by the weight of character and the apparent force of argument with which it has been assailed. The charges exhibited against it are, first, that so small a number of representatives will be an unsafe depositary of the public interests; secondly, that they will not possess a proper knowledge of the local circumstances of their numerous constituents; thirdly, that they will be taken from that class of citizens which will sympathize least with the feelings of the mass of the people, and be most likely to aim at a permanent elevation of the few on the depression of the many; fourthly, that defective as the number will be in the first instance, it will be more and more disproportionate, by the increase of the people, and the obstacles which will prevent a correspondent increase of the representatives. In general it may be remarked on this subject, that no political problem is less susceptible of a precise solution than that which relates to the number most convenient for a representative legislature; nor is there any point on which the policy of the several States is more at variance, whether we compare their legislative assemblies directly with each other, or consider the proportions which they respectively bear to the number of their constituents. Passing over the difference between the smallest and largest States, as Delaware, whose most numerous branch consists of twentyone representatives, and Massachusetts, where it amounts to between three and four hundred, a very considerable difference is observable among States nearly equal in population. The number of representatives in Pennsylvania is not more than one fifth of that in the State last mentioned. New York, whose population is to that of South Carolina as six to five, has little more than one third of the number of representatives. As great a disparity prevails between the States of Georgia and Delaware or Rhode Island. In Pennsylvania, the representatives do not bear a greater proportion to their constituents than of one for every four or five thousand. In Rhode Island, they bear a proportion of at least one for every thousand. And according to the constitution of Georgia, the proportion may be carried to one to every ten electors; and must unavoidably far exceed the proportion in any of the other States. Another general remark to be made is, that the ratio between the representatives and the people ought not to be the same where the latter are very numerous as where they are very few. Were the representatives in Virginia to be regulated by the standard in Rhode Island, they would, at this time, amount to between four and five hundred; and twenty or thirty years hence, to a thousand. On the other hand, the ratio of Pennsylvania, if applied to the State of Delaware, would reduce the representative assembly of the latter to seven or eight members. Nothing can be more fallacious than to found our political calculations on arithmetical principles. Sixty or seventy men may be more properly trusted with a given degree of power than six or seven. But it does not follow that six or seven hundred would be proportionably a better depositary. And if we carry on the supposition to six or seven thousand, the whole reasoning ought to be reversed. The truth is, that in all cases a certain number at least seems to be necessary to secure the benefits of free consultation and discussion, and to guard against too easy a combination for improper purposes; as, on the other hand, the number ought at most to be kept within a certain limit, in order to avoid the confusion and intemperance of a multitude. In all very numerous assemblies, of whatever character composed, passion never fails to wrest the sceptre from reason. Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob. It is necessary also to recollect here the observations which were applied to the case of biennial elections. For the same reason that the limited powers of the Congress, and the control of the State legislatures, justify less frequent elections than the public safely might otherwise require, the members of the Congress need be less numerous than if they possessed the whole power of legislation, and were under no other than the ordinary restraints of other legislative bodies. With these general ideas in our mind, let us weigh the objections which have been stated against the number of members proposed for the House of Representatives. It is said, in the first place, that so small a number cannot be safely trusted with so much power. The number of which this branch of the legislature is to consist, at the outset of the government, will be sixtyfive. Within three years a census is to be taken, when the number may be augmented to one for every thirty thousand inhabitants; and within every successive period of ten years the census is to be renewed, and augmentations may continue to be made under the above limitation. It will not be thought an extravagant conjecture that the first census will, at the rate of one for every thirty thousand, raise the number of representatives to at least one hundred. Estimating the negroes in the proportion of three fifths, it can scarcely be doubted that the population of the United States will by that time, if it does not already, amount to three millions. At the expiration of twentyfive years, according to the computed rate of increase, the number of representatives will amount to two hundred, and of fifty years, to four hundred. This is a number which, I presume, will put an end to all fears arising from the smallness of the body. I take for granted here what I shall, in answering the fourth objection, hereafter show, that the number of representatives will be augmented from time to time in the manner provided by the Constitution. On a contrary supposition, I should admit the objection to have very great weight indeed. The true question to be decided then is, whether the smallness of the number, as a temporary regulation, be dangerous to the public liberty? Whether sixtyfive members for a few years, and a hundred or two hundred for a few more, be a safe depositary for a limited and wellguarded power of legislating for the United States? I must own that I could not give a negative answer to this question, without first obliterating every impression which I have received with regard to the present genius of the people of America, the spirit which actuates the State legislatures, and the principles which are incorporated with the political character of every class of citizens I am unable to conceive that the people of America, in their present temper, or under any circumstances which can speedily happen, will choose, and every second year repeat the choice of, sixtyfive or a hundred men who would be disposed to form and pursue a scheme of tyranny or treachery. I am unable to conceive that the State legislatures, which must feel so many motives to watch, and which possess so many means of counteracting, the federal legislature, would fail either to detect or to defeat a conspiracy of the latter against the liberties of their common constituents. I am equally unable to conceive that there are at this time, or can be in any short time, in the United States, any sixtyfive or a hundred men capable of recommending themselves to the choice of the people at large, who would either desire or dare, within the short space of two years, to betray the solemn trust committed to them. What change of circumstances, time, and a fuller population of our country may produce, requires a prophetic spirit to declare, which makes no part of my pretensions. But judging from the circumstances now before us, and from the probable state of them within a moderate period of time, I must pronounce that the liberties of America cannot be unsafe in the number of hands proposed by the federal Constitution. From what quarter can the danger proceed? Are we afraid of foreign gold? If foreign gold could so easily corrupt our federal rulers and enable them to ensnare and betray their constituents, how has it happened that we are at this time a free and independent nation? The Congress which conducted us through the Revolution was a less numerous body than their successors will be; they were not chosen by, nor responsible to, their fellowcitizens at large; though appointed from year to year, and recallable at pleasure, they were generally continued for three years, and prior to the ratification of the federal articles, for a still longer term. They held their consultations always under the veil of secrecy; they had the sole transaction of our affairs with foreign nations; through the whole course of the war they had the fate of their country more in their hands than it is to be hoped will ever be the case with our future representatives; and from the greatness of the prize at stake, and the eagerness of the party which lost it, it may well be supposed that the use of other means than force would not have been scrupled. Yet we know by happy experience that the public trust was not betrayed; nor has the purity of our public councils in this particular ever suffered, even from the whispers of calumny. Is the danger apprehended from the other branches of the federal government? But where are the means to be found by the President, or the Senate, or both? Their emoluments of office, it is to be presumed, will not, and without a previous corruption of the House of Representatives cannot, more than suffice for very different purposes; their private fortunes, as they must all be American citizens, cannot possibly be sources of danger. The only means, then, which they can possess, will be in the dispensation of appointments. Is it here that suspicion rests her charge? Sometimes we are told that this fund of corruption is to be exhausted by the President in subduing the virtue of the Senate. Now, the fidelity of the other House is to be the victim. The improbability of such a mercenary and perfidious combination of the several members of government, standing on as different foundations as republican principles will well admit, and at the same time accountable to the society over which they are placed, ought alone to quiet this apprehension. But, fortunately, the Constitution has provided a still further safeguard. The members of the Congress are rendered ineligible to any civil offices that may be created, or of which the emoluments may be increased, during the term of their election. No offices therefore can be dealt out to the existing members but such as may become vacant by ordinary casualties: and to suppose that these would be sufficient to purchase the guardians of the people, selected by the people themselves, is to renounce every rule by which events ought to be calculated, and to substitute an indiscriminate and unbounded jealousy, with which all reasoning must be vain. The sincere friends of liberty, who give themselves up to the extravagancies of this passion, are not aware of the injury they do their own cause. As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the existence of these qualities in a higher degree than any other form. Were the pictures which have been drawn by the political jealousy of some among us faithful likenesses of the human character, the inference would be, that there is not sufficient virtue among men for selfgovernment; and that nothing less than the chains of despotism can restrain them from destroying and devouring one another. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 56 The Same Subject Continued (The Total Number of the House of Representatives) For the Independent Journal. Saturday, February 16, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE SECOND charge against the House of Representatives is, that it will be too small to possess a due knowledge of the interests of its constituents. As this objection evidently proceeds from a comparison of the proposed number of representatives with the great extent of the United States, the number of their inhabitants, and the diversity of their interests, without taking into view at the same time the circumstances which will distinguish the Congress from other legislative bodies, the best answer that can be given to it will be a brief explanation of these peculiarities. It is a sound and important principle that the representative ought to be acquainted with the interests and circumstances of his constituents. But this principle can extend no further than to those circumstances and interests to which the authority and care of the representative relate. An ignorance of a variety of minute and particular objects, which do not lie within the compass of legislation, is consistent with every attribute necessary to a due performance of the legislative trust. In determining the extent of information required in the exercise of a particular authority, recourse then must be had to the objects within the purview of that authority. What are to be the objects of federal legislation? Those which are of most importance, and which seem most to require local knowledge, are commerce, taxation, and the militia. A proper regulation of commerce requires much information, as has been elsewhere remarked; but as far as this information relates to the laws and local situation of each individual State, a very few representatives would be very sufficient vehicles of it to the federal councils. Taxation will consist, in a great measure, of duties which will be involved in the regulation of commerce. So far the preceding remark is applicable to this object. As far as it may consist of internal collections, a more diffusive knowledge of the circumstances of the State may be necessary. But will not this also be possessed in sufficient degree by a very few intelligent men, diffusively elected within the State? Divide the largest State into ten or twelve districts, and it will be found that there will be no peculiar local interests in either, which will not be within the knowledge of the representative of the district. Besides this source of information, the laws of the State, framed by representatives from every part of it, will be almost of themselves a sufficient guide. In every State there have been made, and must continue to be made, regulations on this subject which will, in many cases, leave little more to be done by the federal legislature, than to review the different laws, and reduce them in one general act. A skillful individual in his closet with all the local codes before him, might compile a law on some subjects of taxation for the whole union, without any aid from oral information, and it may be expected that whenever internal taxes may be necessary, and particularly in cases requiring uniformity throughout the States, the more simple objects will be preferred. To be fully sensible of the facility which will be given to this branch of federal legislation by the assistance of the State codes, we need only suppose for a moment that this or any other State were divided into a number of parts, each having and exercising within itself a power of local legislation. Is it not evident that a degree of local information and preparatory labor would be found in the several volumes of their proceedings, which would very much shorten the labors of the general legislature, and render a much smaller number of members sufficient for it? The federal councils will derive great advantage from another circumstance. The representatives of each State will not only bring with them a considerable knowledge of its laws, and a local knowledge of their respective districts, but will probably in all cases have been members, and may even at the very time be members, of the State legislature, where all the local information and interests of the State are assembled, and from whence they may easily be conveyed by a very few hands into the legislature of the United States. (The observations made on the subject of taxation apply with greater force to the case of the militia. For however different the rules of discipline may be in different States, they are the same throughout each particular State; and depend on circumstances which can differ but little in different parts of the same State.)(E1) (With regard to the regulation of the militia, there are scarcely any circumstances in reference to which local knowledge can be said to be necessary. The general face of the country, whether mountainous or level, most fit for the operations of infantry or cavalry, is almost the only consideration of this nature that can occur. The art of war teaches general principles of organization, movement, and discipline, which apply universally.)(E1) The attentive reader will discern that the reasoning here used, to prove the sufficiency of a moderate number of representatives, does not in any respect contradict what was urged on another occasion with regard to the extensive information which the representatives ought to possess, and the time that might be necessary for acquiring it. This information, so far as it may relate to local objects, is rendered necessary and difficult, not by a difference of laws and local circumstances within a single State, but of those among different States. Taking each State by itself, its laws are the same, and its interests but little diversified. A few men, therefore, will possess all the knowledge requisite for a proper representation of them. Were the interests and affairs of each individual State perfectly simple and uniform, a knowledge of them in one part would involve a knowledge of them in every other, and the whole State might be competently represented by a single member taken from any part of it. On a comparison of the different States together, we find a great dissimilarity in their laws, and in many other circumstances connected with the objects of federal legislation, with all of which the federal representatives ought to have some acquaintance. Whilst a few representatives, therefore, from each State, may bring with them a due knowledge of their own State, every representative will have much information to acquire concerning all the other States. The changes of time, as was formerly remarked, on the comparative situation of the different States, will have an assimilating effect. The effect of time on the internal affairs of the States, taken singly, will be just the contrary. At present some of the States are little more than a society of husbandmen. Few of them have made much progress in those branches of industry which give a variety and complexity to the affairs of a nation. These, however, will in all of them be the fruits of a more advanced population, and will require, on the part of each State, a fuller representation. The foresight of the convention has accordingly taken care that the progress of population may be accompanied with a proper increase of the representative branch of the government. The experience of Great Britain, which presents to mankind so many political lessons, both of the monitory and exemplary kind, and which has been frequently consulted in the course of these inquiries, corroborates the result of the reflections which we have just made. The number of inhabitants in the two kingdoms of England and Scotland cannot be stated at less than eight millions. The representatives of these eight millions in the House of Commons amount to five hundred and fiftyeight. Of this number, one ninth are elected by three hundred and sixtyfour persons, and one half, by five thousand seven hundred and twentythree persons.(1) It cannot be supposed that the half thus elected, and who do not even reside among the people at large, can add any thing either to the security of the people against the government, or to the knowledge of their circumstances and interests in the legislative councils. On the contrary, it is notorious, that they are more frequently the representatives and instruments of the executive magistrate, than the guardians and advocates of the popular rights. They might therefore, with great propriety, be considered as something more than a mere deduction from the real representatives of the nation. We will, however, consider them in this light alone, and will not extend the deduction to a considerable number of others, who do not reside among their constitutents, are very faintly connected with them, and have very little particular knowledge of their affairs. With all these concessions, two hundred and seventynine persons only will be the depository of the safety, interest, and happiness of eight millions that is to say, there will be one representative only to maintain the rights and explain the situation of TWENTYEIGHT THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED AND SEVENTY constitutents, in an assembly exposed to the whole force of executive influence, and extending its authority to every object of legislation within a nation whose affairs are in the highest degree diversified and complicated. Yet it is very certain, not only that a valuable portion of freedom has been preserved under all these circumstances, but that the defects in the British code are chargeable, in a very small proportion, on the ignorance of the legislature concerning the circumstances of the people. Allowing to this case the weight which is due to it, and comparing it with that of the House of Representatives as above explained it seems to give the fullest assurance, that a representative for every THIRTY THOUSAND INHABITANTS will render the latter both a safe and competent guardian of the interests which will be confided to it. PUBLIUS 1. Burgh's \"Political Disquisitions.\" E1. Two versions of this paragraph appear in different editions. FEDERALIST No. 57 The Alleged Tendency of the New Plan to Elevate the Few at the Expense of the Many Considered in Connection with Representation. From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 19, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE THIRD charge against the House of Representatives is, that it will be taken from that class of citizens which will have least sympathy with the mass of the people, and be most likely to aim at an ambitious sacrifice of the many to the aggrandizement of the few. Of all the objections which have been framed against the federal Constitution, this is perhaps the most extraordinary. Whilst the objection itself is levelled against a pretended oligarchy, the principle of it strikes at the very root of republican government. The aim of every political constitution is, or ought to be, first to obtain for rulers men who possess most wisdom to discern, and most virtue to pursue, the common good of the society; and in the next place, to take the most effectual precautions for keeping them virtuous whilst they continue to hold their public trust. The elective mode of obtaining rulers is the characteristic policy of republican government. The means relied on in this form of government for preventing their degeneracy are numerous and various. The most effectual one, is such a limitation of the term of appointments as will maintain a proper responsibility to the people. Let me now ask what circumstance there is in the constitution of the House of Representatives that violates the principles of republican government, or favors the elevation of the few on the ruins of the many? Let me ask whether every circumstance is not, on the contrary, strictly conformable to these principles, and scrupulously impartial to the rights and pretensions of every class and description of citizens? Who are to be the electors of the federal representatives? Not the rich, more than the poor; not the learned, more than the ignorant; not the haughty heirs of distinguished names, more than the humble sons of obscurity and unpropitious fortune. The electors are to be the great body of the people of the United States. They are to be the same who exercise the right in every State of electing the corresponding branch of the legislature of the State. Who are to be the objects of popular choice? Every citizen whose merit may recommend him to the esteem and confidence of his country. No qualification of wealth, of birth, of religious faith, or of civil profession is permitted to fetter the judgement or disappoint the inclination of the people. If we consider the situation of the men on whom the free suffrages of their fellowcitizens may confer the representative trust, we shall find it involving every security which can be devised or desired for their fidelity to their constituents. In the first place, as they will have been distinguished by the preference of their fellowcitizens, we are to presume that in general they will be somewhat distinguished also by those qualities which entitle them to it, and which promise a sincere and scrupulous regard to the nature of their engagements. In the second place, they will enter into the public service under circumstances which cannot fail to produce a temporary affection at least to their constituents. There is in every breast a sensibility to marks of honor, of favor, of esteem, and of confidence, which, apart from all considerations of interest, is some pledge for grateful and benevolent returns. Ingratitude is a common topic of declamation against human nature; and it must be confessed that instances of it are but too frequent and flagrant, both in public and in private life. But the universal and extreme indignation which it inspires is itself a proof of the energy and prevalence of the contrary sentiment. In the third place, those ties which bind the representative to his constituents are strengthened by motives of a more selfish nature. His pride and vanity attach him to a form of government which favors his pretensions and gives him a share in its honors and distinctions. Whatever hopes or projects might be entertained by a few aspiring characters, it must generally happen that a great proportion of the men deriving their advancement from their influence with the people, would have more to hope from a preservation of the favor, than from innovations in the government subversive of the authority of the people. All these securities, however, would be found very insufficient without the restraint of frequent elections. Hence, in the fourth place, the House of Representatives is so constituted as to support in the members an habitual recollection of their dependence on the people. Before the sentiments impressed on their minds by the mode of their elevation can be effaced by the exercise of power, they will be compelled to anticipate the moment when their power is to cease, when their exercise of it is to be reviewed, and when they must descend to the level from which they were raised; there forever to remain unless a faithful discharge of their trust shall have established their title to a renewal of it. I will add, as a fifth circumstance in the situation of the House of Representatives, restraining them from oppressive measures, that they can make no law which will not have its full operation on themselves and their friends, as well as on the great mass of the society. This has always been deemed one of the strongest bonds by which human policy can connect the rulers and the people together. It creates between them that communion of interests and sympathy of sentiments, of which few governments have furnished examples; but without which every government degenerates into tyranny. If it be asked, what is to restrain the House of Representatives from making legal discriminations in favor of themselves and a particular class of the society? I answer: the genius of the whole system; the nature of just and constitutional laws; and above all, the vigilant and manly spirit which actuates the people of Americaa spirit which nourishes freedom, and in return is nourished by it. If this spirit shall ever be so far debased as to tolerate a law not obligatory on the legislature, as well as on the people, the people will be prepared to tolerate any thing but liberty. Such will be the relation between the House of Representatives and their constituents. Duty, gratitude, interest, ambition itself, are the chords by which they will be bound to fidelity and sympathy with the great mass of the people. It is possible that these may all be insufficient to control the caprice and wickedness of man. But are they not all that government will admit, and that human prudence can devise? Are they not the genuine and the characteristic means by which republican government provides for the liberty and happiness of the people? Are they not the identical means on which every State government in the Union relies for the attainment of these important ends? What then are we to understand by the objection which this paper has combated? What are we to say to the men who profess the most flaming zeal for republican government, yet boldly impeach the fundamental principle of it; who pretend to be champions for the right and the capacity of the people to choose their own rulers, yet maintain that they will prefer those only who will immediately and infallibly betray the trust committed to them? Were the objection to be read by one who had not seen the mode prescribed by the Constitution for the choice of representatives, he could suppose nothing less than that some unreasonable qualification of property was annexed to the right of suffrage; or that the right of eligibility was limited to persons of particular families or fortunes; or at least that the mode prescribed by the State constitutions was in some respect or other, very grossly departed from. We have seen how far such a supposition would err, as to the two first points. Nor would it, in fact, be less erroneous as to the last. The only difference discoverable between the two cases is, that each representative of the United States will be elected by five or six thousand citizens; whilst in the individual States, the election of a representative is left to about as many hundreds. Will it be pretended that this difference is sufficient to justify an attachment to the State governments, and an abhorrence to the federal government? If this be the point on which the objection turns, it deserves to be examined. Is it supported by REASON? This cannot be said, without maintaining that five or six thousand citizens are less capable of choosing a fit representative, or more liable to be corrupted by an unfit one, than five or six hundred. Reason, on the contrary, assures us, that as in so great a number a fit representative would be most likely to be found, so the choice would be less likely to be diverted from him by the intrigues of the ambitious or the ambitious or the bribes of the rich. Is the CONSEQUENCE from this doctrine admissible? If we say that five or six hundred citizens are as many as can jointly exercise their right of suffrage, must we not deprive the people of the immediate choice of their public servants, in every instance where the administration of the government does not require as many of them as will amount to one for that number of citizens? Is the doctrine warranted by FACTS? It was shown in the last paper, that the real representation in the British House of Commons very little exceeds the proportion of one for every thirty thousand inhabitants. Besides a variety of powerful causes not existing here, and which favor in that country the pretensions of rank and wealth, no person is eligible as a representative of a county, unless he possess real estate of the clear value of six hundred pounds sterling per year; nor of a city or borough, unless he possess a like estate of half that annual value. To this qualification on the part of the county representatives is added another on the part of the county electors, which restrains the right of suffrage to persons having a freehold estate of the annual value of more than twenty pounds sterling, according to the present rate of money. Notwithstanding these unfavorable circumstances, and notwithstanding some very unequal laws in the British code, it cannot be said that the representatives of the nation have elevated the few on the ruins of the many. But we need not resort to foreign experience on this subject. Our own is explicit and decisive. The districts in New Hampshire in which the senators are chosen immediately by the people, are nearly as large as will be necessary for her representatives in the Congress. Those of Massachusetts are larger than will be necessary for that purpose; and those of New York still more so. In the last State the members of Assembly for the cities and counties of New York and Albany are elected by very nearly as many voters as will be entitled to a representative in the Congress, calculating on the number of sixtyfive representatives only. It makes no difference that in these senatorial districts and counties a number of representatives are voted for by each elector at the same time. If the same electors at the same time are capable of choosing four or five representatives, they cannot be incapable of choosing one. Pennsylvania is an additional example. Some of her counties, which elect her State representatives, are almost as large as her districts will be by which her federal representatives will be elected. The city of Philadelphia is supposed to contain between fifty and sixty thousand souls. It will therefore form nearly two districts for the choice of federal representatives. It forms, however, but one county, in which every elector votes for each of its representatives in the State legislature. And what may appear to be still more directly to our purpose, the whole city actually elects a SINGLE MEMBER for the executive council. This is the case in all the other counties of the State. Are not these facts the most satisfactory proofs of the fallacy which has been employed against the branch of the federal government under consideration? Has it appeared on trial that the senators of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and New York, or the executive council of Pennsylvania, or the members of the Assembly in the two last States, have betrayed any peculiar disposition to sacrifice the many to the few, or are in any respect less worthy of their places than the representatives and magistrates appointed in other States by very small divisions of the people? But there are cases of a stronger complexion than any which I have yet quoted. One branch of the legislature of Connecticut is so constituted that each member of it is elected by the whole State. So is the governor of that State, of Massachusetts, and of this State, and the president of New Hampshire. I leave every man to decide whether the result of any one of these experiments can be said to countenance a suspicion, that a diffusive mode of choosing representatives of the people tends to elevate traitors and to undermine the public liberty. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 58 Objection That The Number of Members Will Not Be Augmented as the Progress of Population Demands. Considered For the Independent Journal Wednesday, February 20, 1788. MADISON To the People of the State of New York: THE remaining charge against the House of Representatives, which I am to examine, is grounded on a supposition that the number of members will not be augmented from time to time, as the progress of population may demand. It has been admitted, that this objection, if well supported, would have great weight. The following observations will show that, like most other objections against the Constitution, it can only proceed from a partial view of the subject, or from a jealousy which discolors and disfigures every object which is beheld. 1. Those who urge the objection seem not to have recollected that the federal Constitution will not suffer by a comparison with the State constitutions, in the security provided for a gradual augmentation of the number of representatives. The number which is to prevail in the first instance is declared to be temporary. Its duration is limited to the short term of three years. Within every successive term of ten years a census of inhabitants is to be repeated. The unequivocal objects of these regulations are, first, to readjust, from time to time, the apportionment of representatives to the number of inhabitants, under the single exception that each State shall have one representative at least; secondly, to augment the number of representatives at the same periods, under the sole limitation that the whole number shall not exceed one for every thirty thousand inhabitants. If we review the constitutions of the several States, we shall find that some of them contain no determinate regulations on this subject, that others correspond pretty much on this point with the federal Constitution, and that the most effectual security in any of them is resolvable into a mere directory provision. 2. As far as experience has taken place on this subject, a gradual increase of representatives under the State constitutions has at least kept pace with that of the constituents, and it appears that the former have been as ready to concur in such measures as the latter have been to call for them. 3. There is a peculiarity in the federal Constitution which insures a watchful attention in a majority both of the people and of their representatives to a constitutional augmentation of the latter. The peculiarity lies in this, that one branch of the legislature is a representation of citizens, the other of the States: in the former, consequently, the larger States will have most weight; in the latter, the advantage will be in favor of the smaller States. From this circumstance it may with certainty be inferred that the larger States will be strenuous advocates for increasing the number and weight of that part of the legislature in which their influence predominates. And it so happens that four only of the largest will have a majority of the whole votes in the House of Representatives. Should the representatives or people, therefore, of the smaller States oppose at any time a reasonable addition of members, a coalition of a very few States will be sufficient to overrule the opposition; a coalition which, notwithstanding the rivalship and local prejudices which might prevent it on ordinary occasions, would not fail to take place, when not merely prompted by common interest, but justified by equity and the principles of the Constitution. It may be alleged, perhaps, that the Senate would be prompted by like motives to an adverse coalition; and as their concurrence would be indispensable, the just and constitutional views of the other branch might be defeated. This is the difficulty which has probably created the most serious apprehensions in the jealous friends of a numerous representation. Fortunately it is among the difficulties which, existing only in appearance, vanish on a close and accurate inspection. The following reflections will, if I mistake not, be admitted to be conclusive and satisfactory on this point. Notwithstanding the equal authority which will subsist between the two houses on all legislative subjects, except the originating of money bills, it cannot be doubted that the House, composed of the greater number of members, when supported by the more powerful States, and speaking the known and determined sense of a majority of the people, will have no small advantage in a question depending on the comparative firmness of the two houses. This advantage must be increased by the consciousness, felt by the same side of being supported in its demands by right, by reason, and by the Constitution; and the consciousness, on the opposite side, of contending against the force of all these solemn considerations. It is farther to be considered, that in the gradation between the smallest and largest States, there are several, which, though most likely in general to arrange themselves among the former are too little removed in extent and population from the latter, to second an opposition to their just and legitimate pretensions. Hence it is by no means certain that a majority of votes, even in the Senate, would be unfriendly to proper augmentations in the number of representatives. It will not be looking too far to add, that the senators from all the new States may be gained over to the just views of the House of Representatives, by an expedient too obvious to be overlooked. As these States will, for a great length of time, advance in population with peculiar rapidity, they will be interested in frequent reapportionments of the representatives to the number of inhabitants. The large States, therefore, who will prevail in the House of Representatives, will have nothing to do but to make reapportionments and augmentations mutually conditions of each other; and the senators from all the most growing States will be bound to contend for the latter, by the interest which their States will feel in the former. These considerations seem to afford ample security on this subject, and ought alone to satisfy all the doubts and fears which have been indulged with regard to it. Admitting, however, that they should all be insufficient to subdue the unjust policy of the smaller States, or their predominant influence in the councils of the Senate, a constitutional and infallible resource still remains with the larger States, by which they will be able at all times to accomplish their just purposes. The House of Representatives cannot only refuse, but they alone can propose, the supplies requisite for the support of government. They, in a word, hold the pursethat powerful instrument by which we behold, in the history of the British Constitution, an infant and humble representation of the people gradually enlarging the sphere of its activity and importance, and finally reducing, as far as it seems to have wished, all the overgrown prerogatives of the other branches of the government. This power over the purse may, in fact, be regarded as the most complete and effectual weapon with which any constitution can arm the immediate representatives of the people, for obtaining a redress of every grievance, and for carrying into effect every just and salutary measure. But will not the House of Representatives be as much interested as the Senate in maintaining the government in its proper functions, and will they not therefore be unwilling to stake its existence or its reputation on the pliancy of the Senate? Or, if such a trial of firmness between the two branches were hazarded, would not the one be as likely first to yield as the other? These questions will create no difficulty with those who reflect that in all cases the smaller the number, and the more permanent and conspicuous the station, of men in power, the stronger must be the interest which they will individually feel in whatever concerns the government. Those who represent the dignity of their country in the eyes of other nations, will be particularly sensible to every prospect of public danger, or of dishonorable stagnation in public affairs. To those causes we are to ascribe the continual triumph of the British House of Commons over the other branches of the government, whenever the engine of a money bill has been employed. An absolute inflexibility on the side of the latter, although it could not have failed to involve every department of the state in the general confusion, has neither been apprehended nor experienced. The utmost degree of firmness that can be displayed by the federal Senate or President, will not be more than equal to a resistance in which they will be supported by constitutional and patriotic principles. In this review of the Constitution of the House of Representatives, I have passed over the circumstances of economy, which, in the present state of affairs, might have had some effect in lessening the temporary number of representatives, and a disregard of which would probably have been as rich a theme of declamation against the Constitution as has been shown by the smallness of the number proposed. I omit also any remarks on the difficulty which might be found, under present circumstances, in engaging in the federal service a large number of such characters as the people will probably elect. One observation, however, I must be permitted to add on this subject as claiming, in my judgment, a very serious attention. It is, that in all legislative assemblies the greater the number composing them may be, the fewer will be the men who will in fact direct their proceedings. In the first place, the more numerous an assembly may be, of whatever characters composed, the greater is known to be the ascendency of passion over reason. In the next place, the larger the number, the greater will be the proportion of members of limited information and of weak capacities. Now, it is precisely on characters of this description that the eloquence and address of the few are known to act with all their force. In the ancient republics, where the whole body of the people assembled in person, a single orator, or an artful statesman, was generally seen to rule with as complete a sway as if a sceptre had been placed in his single hand. On the same principle, the more multitudinous a representative assembly may be rendered, the more it will partake of the infirmities incident to collective meetings of the people. Ignorance will be the dupe of cunning, and passion the slave of sophistry and declamation. The people can never err more than in supposing that by multiplying their representatives beyond a certain limit, they strengthen the barrier against the government of a few. Experience will forever admonish them that, on the contrary, AFTER SECURING A SUFFICIENT NUMBER FOR THE PURPOSES OF SAFETY, OF LOCAL INFORMATION, AND OF DIFFUSIVE SYMPATHY WITH THE WHOLE SOCIETY, they will counteract their own views by every addition to their representatives. The countenance of the government may become more democratic, but the soul that animates it will be more oligarchic. The machine will be enlarged, but the fewer, and often the more secret, will be the springs by which its motions are directed. As connected with the objection against the number of representatives, may properly be here noticed, that which has been suggested against the number made competent for legislative business. It has been said that more than a majority ought to have been required for a quorum; and in particular cases, if not in all, more than a majority of a quorum for a decision. That some advantages might have resulted from such a precaution, cannot be denied. It might have been an additional shield to some particular interests, and another obstacle generally to hasty and partial measures. But these considerations are outweighed by the inconveniences in the opposite scale. In all cases where justice or the general good might require new laws to be passed, or active measures to be pursued, the fundamental principle of free government would be reversed. It would be no longer the majority that would rule: the power would be transferred to the minority. Were the defensive privilege limited to particular cases, an interested minority might take advantage of it to screen themselves from equitable sacrifices to the general weal, or, in particular emergencies, to extort unreasonable indulgences. Lastly, it would facilitate and foster the baneful practice of secessions; a practice which has shown itself even in States where a majority only is required; a practice subversive of all the principles of order and regular government; a practice which leads more directly to public convulsions, and the ruin of popular governments, than any other which has yet been displayed among us. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 59 Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members From the New York Packet. Friday, February 22, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE natural order of the subject leads us to consider, in this place, that provision of the Constitution which authorizes the national legislature to regulate, in the last resort, the election of its own members. It is in these words: \"The TIMES, PLACES, and MANNER of holding elections for senators and representatives shall be prescribed in each State by the legislature thereof; but the Congress may, at any time, by law, make or alter SUCH REGULATIONS, except as to the PLACES of choosing senators.\"(1) This provision has not only been declaimed against by those who condemn the Constitution in the gross, but it has been censured by those who have objected with less latitude and greater moderation; and, in one instance it has been thought exceptionable by a gentleman who has declared himself the advocate of every other part of the system. I am greatly mistaken, notwithstanding, if there be any article in the whole plan more completely defensible than this. Its propriety rests upon the evidence of this plain proposition, that EVERY GOVERNMENT OUGHT TO CONTAIN IN ITSELF THE MEANS OF ITS OWN PRESERVATION. Every just reasoner will, at first sight, approve an adherence to this rule, in the work of the convention; and will disapprove every deviation from it which may not appear to have been dictated by the necessity of incorporating into the work some particular ingredient, with which a rigid conformity to the rule was incompatible. Even in this case, though he may acquiesce in the necessity, yet he will not cease to regard and to regret a departure from so fundamental a principle, as a portion of imperfection in the system which may prove the seed of future weakness, and perhaps anarchy. It will not be alleged, that an election law could have been framed and inserted in the Constitution, which would have been always applicable to every probable change in the situation of the country; and it will therefore not be denied, that a discretionary power over elections ought to exist somewhere. It will, I presume, be as readily conceded, that there were only three ways in which this power could have been reasonably modified and disposed: that it must either have been lodged wholly in the national legislature, or wholly in the State legislatures, or primarily in the latter and ultimately in the former. The last mode has, with reason, been preferred by the convention. They have submitted the regulation of elections for the federal government, in the first instance, to the local administrations; which, in ordinary cases, and when no improper views prevail, may be both more convenient and more satisfactory; but they have reserved to the national authority a right to interpose, whenever extraordinary circumstances might render that interposition necessary to its safety. Nothing can be more evident, than that an exclusive power of regulating elections for the national government, in the hands of the State legislatures, would leave the existence of the Union entirely at their mercy. They could at any moment annihilate it, by neglecting to provide for the choice of persons to administer its affairs. It is to little purpose to say, that a neglect or omission of this kind would not be likely to take place. The constitutional possibility of the thing, without an equivalent for the risk, is an unanswerable objection. Nor has any satisfactory reason been yet assigned for incurring that risk. The extravagant surmises of a distempered jealousy can never be dignified with that character. If we are in a humor to presume abuses of power, it is as fair to presume them on the part of the State governments as on the part of the general government. And as it is more consonant to the rules of a just theory, to trust the Union with the care of its own existence, than to transfer that care to any other hands, if abuses of power are to be hazarded on the one side or on the other, it is more rational to hazard them where the power would naturally be placed, than where it would unnaturally be placed. Suppose an article had been introduced into the Constitution, empowering the United States to regulate the elections for the particular States, would any man have hesitated to condemn it, both as an unwarrantable transposition of power, and as a premeditated engine for the destruction of the State governments? The violation of principle, in this case, would have required no comment; and, to an unbiased observer, it will not be less apparent in the project of subjecting the existence of the national government, in a similar respect, to the pleasure of the State governments. An impartial view of the matter cannot fail to result in a conviction, that each, as far as possible, ought to depend on itself for its own preservation. As an objection to this position, it may be remarked that the constitution of the national Senate would involve, in its full extent, the danger which it is suggested might flow from an exclusive power in the State legislatures to regulate the federal elections. It may be alleged, that by declining the appointment of Senators, they might at any time give a fatal blow to the Union; and from this it may be inferred, that as its existence would be thus rendered dependent upon them in so essential a point, there can be no objection to intrusting them with it in the particular case under consideration. The interest of each State, it may be added, to maintain its representation in the national councils, would be a complete security against an abuse of the trust. This argument, though specious, will not, upon examination, be found solid. It is certainly true that the State legislatures, by forbearing the appointment of senators, may destroy the national government. But it will not follow that, because they have a power to do this in one instance, they ought to have it in every other. There are cases in which the pernicious tendency of such a power may be far more decisive, without any motive equally cogent with that which must have regulated the conduct of the convention in respect to the formation of the Senate, to recommend their admission into the system. So far as that construction may expose the Union to the possibility of injury from the State legislatures, it is an evil; but it is an evil which could not have been avoided without excluding the States, in their political capacities, wholly from a place in the organization of the national government. If this had been done, it would doubtless have been interpreted into an entire dereliction of the federal principle; and would certainly have deprived the State governments of that absolute safeguard which they will enjoy under this provision. But however wise it may have been to have submitted in this instance to an inconvenience, for the attainment of a necessary advantage or a greater good, no inference can be drawn from thence to favor an accumulation of the evil, where no necessity urges, nor any greater good invites. It may be easily discerned also that the national government would run a much greater risk from a power in the State legislatures over the elections of its House of Representatives, than from their power of appointing the members of its Senate. The senators are to be chosen for the period of six years; there is to be a rotation, by which the seats of a third part of them are to be vacated and replenished every two years; and no State is to be entitled to more than two senators; a quorum of the body is to consist of sixteen members. The joint result of these circumstances would be, that a temporary combination of a few States to intermit the appointment of senators, could neither annul the existence nor impair the activity of the body; and it is not from a general and permanent combination of the States that we can have any thing to fear. The first might proceed from sinister designs in the leading members of a few of the State legislatures; the last would suppose a fixed and rooted disaffection in the great body of the people, which will either never exist at all, or will, in all probability, proceed from an experience of the inaptitude of the general government to the advancement of their happiness in which event no good citizen could desire its continuance. But with regard to the federal House of Representatives, there is intended to be a general election of members once in two years. If the State legislatures were to be invested with an exclusive power of regulating these elections, every period of making them would be a delicate crisis in the national situation, which might issue in a dissolution of the Union, if the leaders of a few of the most important States should have entered into a previous conspiracy to prevent an election. I shall not deny, that there is a degree of weight in the observation, that the interests of each State, to be represented in the federal councils, will be a security against the abuse of a power over its elections in the hands of the State legislatures. But the security will not be considered as complete, by those who attend to the force of an obvious distinction between the interest of the people in the public felicity, and the interest of their local rulers in the power and consequence of their offices. The people of America may be warmly attached to the government of the Union, at times when the particular rulers of particular States, stimulated by the natural rivalship of power, and by the hopes of personal aggrandizement, and supported by a strong faction in each of those States, may be in a very opposite temper. This diversity of sentiment between a majority of the people, and the individuals who have the greatest credit in their councils, is exemplified in some of the States at the present moment, on the present question. The scheme of separate confederacies, which will always multiply the chances of ambition, will be a never failing bait to all such influential characters in the State administrations as are capable of preferring their own emolument and advancement to the public weal. With so effectual a weapon in their hands as the exclusive power of regulating elections for the national government, a combination of a few such men, in a few of the most considerable States, where the temptation will always be the strongest, might accomplish the destruction of the Union, by seizing the opportunity of some casual dissatisfaction among the people (and which perhaps they may themselves have excited), to discontinue the choice of members for the federal House of Representatives. It ought never to be forgotten, that a firm union of this country, under an efficient government, will probably be an increasing object of jealousy to more than one nation of Europe; and that enterprises to subvert it will sometimes originate in the intrigues of foreign powers, and will seldom fail to be patronized and abetted by some of them. Its preservation, therefore ought in no case that can be avoided, to be committed to the guardianship of any but those whose situation will uniformly beget an immediate interest in the faithful and vigilant performance of the trust. PUBLIUS 1. 1st clause, 4th section, of the 1st article. FEDERALIST No. 60 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) From The Independent Journal. Saturday, February 23, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: WE HAVE seen, that an uncontrollable power over the elections to the federal government could not, without hazard, be committed to the State legislatures. Let us now see, what would be the danger on the other side; that is, from confiding the ultimate right of regulating its own elections to the Union itself. It is not pretended, that this right would ever be used for the exclusion of any State from its share in the representation. The interest of all would, in this respect at least, be the security of all. But it is alleged, that it might be employed in such a manner as to promote the election of some favorite class of men in exclusion of others, by confining the places of election to particular districts, and rendering it impracticable to the citizens at large to partake in the choice. Of all chimerical suppositions, this seems to be the most chimerical. On the one hand, no rational calculation of probabilities would lead us to imagine that the disposition which a conduct so violent and extraordinary would imply, could ever find its way into the national councils; and on the other, it may be concluded with certainty, that if so improper a spirit should ever gain admittance into them, it would display itself in a form altogether different and far more decisive. The improbability of the attempt may be satisfactorily inferred from this single reflection, that it could never be made without causing an immediate revolt of the great body of the people, headed and directed by the State governments. It is not difficult to conceive that this characteristic right of freedom may, in certain turbulent and factious seasons, be violated, in respect to a particular class of citizens, by a victorious and overbearing majority; but that so fundamental a privilege, in a country so situated and enlightened, should be invaded to the prejudice of the great mass of the people, by the deliberate policy of the government, without occasioning a popular revolution, is altogether inconceivable and incredible. In addition to this general reflection, there are considerations of a more precise nature, which forbid all apprehension on the subject. The dissimilarity in the ingredients which will compose the national government, and still more in the manner in which they will be brought into action in its various branches, must form a powerful obstacle to a concert of views in any partial scheme of elections. There is sufficient diversity in the state of property, in the genius, manners, and habits of the people of the different parts of the Union, to occasion a material diversity of disposition in their representatives towards the different ranks and conditions in society. And though an intimate intercourse under the same government will promote a gradual assimilation in some of these respects, yet there are causes, as well physical as moral, which may, in a greater or less degree, permanently nourish different propensities and inclinations in this respect. But the circumstance which will be likely to have the greatest influence in the matter, will be the dissimilar modes of constituting the several component parts of the government. The House of Representatives being to be elected immediately by the people, the Senate by the State legislatures, the President by electors chosen for that purpose by the people, there would be little probability of a common interest to cement these different branches in a predilection for any particular class of electors. As to the Senate, it is impossible that any regulation of \"time and manner,\" which is all that is proposed to be submitted to the national government in respect to that body, can affect the spirit which will direct the choice of its members. The collective sense of the State legislatures can never be influenced by extraneous circumstances of that sort; a consideration which alone ought to satisfy us that the discrimination apprehended would never be attempted. For what inducement could the Senate have to concur in a preference in which itself would not be included? Or to what purpose would it be established, in reference to one branch of the legislature, if it could not be extended to the other? The composition of the one would in this case counteract that of the other. And we can never suppose that it would embrace the appointments to the Senate, unless we can at the same time suppose the voluntary cooperation of the State legislatures. If we make the latter supposition, it then becomes immaterial where the power in question is placedwhether in their hands or in those of the Union. But what is to be the object of this capricious partiality in the national councils? Is it to be exercised in a discrimination between the different departments of industry, or between the different kinds of property, or between the different degrees of property? Will it lean in favor of the landed interest, or the moneyed interest, or the mercantile interest, or the manufacturing interest? Or, to speak in the fashionable language of the adversaries to the Constitution, will it court the elevation of \"the wealthy and the wellborn,\" to the exclusion and debasement of all the rest of the society? If this partiality is to be exerted in favor of those who are concerned in any particular description of industry or property, I presume it will readily be admitted, that the competition for it will lie between landed men and merchants. And I scruple not to affirm, that it is infinitely less likely that either of them should gain an ascendant in the national councils, than that the one or the other of them should predominate in all the local councils. The inference will be, that a conduct tending to give an undue preference to either is much less to be dreaded from the former than from the latter. The several States are in various degrees addicted to agriculture and commerce. In most, if not all of them, agriculture is predominant. In a few of them, however, commerce nearly divides its empire, and in most of them has a considerable share of influence. In proportion as either prevails, it will be conveyed into the national representation; and for the very reason, that this will be an emanation from a greater variety of interests, and in much more various proportions, than are to be found in any single State, it will be much less apt to espouse either of them with a decided partiality, than the representation of any single State. In a country consisting chiefly of the cultivators of land, where the rules of an equal representation obtain, the landed interest must, upon the whole, preponderate in the government. As long as this interest prevails in most of the State legislatures, so long it must maintain a correspondent superiority in the national Senate, which will generally be a faithful copy of the majorities of those assemblies. It cannot therefore be presumed, that a sacrifice of the landed to the mercantile class will ever be a favorite object of this branch of the federal legislature. In applying thus particularly to the Senate a general observation suggested by the situation of the country, I am governed by the consideration, that the credulous votaries of State power cannot, upon their own principles, suspect, that the State legislatures would be warped from their duty by any external influence. But in reality the same situation must have the same effect, in the primitive composition at least of the federal House of Representatives: an improper bias towards the mercantile class is as little to be expected from this quarter as from the other. In order, perhaps, to give countenance to the objection at any rate, it may be asked, is there not danger of an opposite bias in the national government, which may dispose it to endeavor to secure a monopoly of the federal administration to the landed class? As there is little likelihood that the supposition of such a bias will have any terrors for those who would be immediately injured by it, a labored answer to this question will be dispensed with. It will be sufficient to remark, first, that for the reasons elsewhere assigned, it is less likely that any decided partiality should prevail in the councils of the Union than in those of any of its members. Secondly, that there would be no temptation to violate the Constitution in favor of the landed class, because that class would, in the natural course of things, enjoy as great a preponderancy as itself could desire. And thirdly, that men accustomed to investigate the sources of public prosperity upon a large scale, must be too well convinced of the utility of commerce, to be inclined to inflict upon it so deep a wound as would result from the entire exclusion of those who would best understand its interest from a share in the management of them. The importance of commerce, in the view of revenue alone, must effectually guard it against the enmity of a body which would be continually importuned in its favor, by the urgent calls of public necessity. I the rather consult brevity in discussing the probability of a preference founded upon a discrimination between the different kinds of industry and property, because, as far as I understand the meaning of the objectors, they contemplate a discrimination of another kind. They appear to have in view, as the objects of the preference with which they endeavor to alarm us, those whom they designate by the description of \"the wealthy and the wellborn.\" These, it seems, are to be exalted to an odious preeminence over the rest of their fellowcitizens. At one time, however, their elevation is to be a necessary consequence of the smallness of the representative body; at another time it is to be effected by depriving the people at large of the opportunity of exercising their right of suffrage in the choice of that body. But upon what principle is the discrimination of the places of election to be made, in order to answer the purpose of the meditated preference? Are \"the wealthy and the wellborn,\" as they are called, confined to particular spots in the several States? Have they, by some miraculous instinct or foresight, set apart in each of them a common place of residence? Are they only to be met with in the towns or cities? Or are they, on the contrary, scattered over the face of the country as avarice or chance may have happened to cast their own lot or that of their predecessors? If the latter is the case, (as every intelligent man knows it to be,(1)) is it not evident that the policy of confining the places of election to particular districts would be as subversive of its own aim as it would be exceptionable on every other account? The truth is, that there is no method of securing to the rich the preference apprehended, but by prescribing qualifications of property either for those who may elect or be elected. But this forms no part of the power to be conferred upon the national government. Its authority would be expressly restricted to the regulation of the TIMES, the PLACES, the MANNER of elections. The qualifications of the persons who may choose or be chosen, as has been remarked upon other occasions, are defined and fixed in the Constitution, and are unalterable by the legislature. Let it, however, be admitted, for argument sake, that the expedient suggested might be successful; and let it at the same time be equally taken for granted that all the scruples which a sense of duty or an apprehension of the danger of the experiment might inspire, were overcome in the breasts of the national rulers, still I imagine it will hardly be pretended that they could ever hope to carry such an enterprise into execution without the aid of a military force sufficient to subdue the resistance of the great body of the people. The improbability of the existence of a force equal to that object has been discussed and demonstrated in different parts of these papers; but that the futility of the objection under consideration may appear in the strongest light, it shall be conceded for a moment that such a force might exist, and the national government shall be supposed to be in the actual possession of it. What will be the conclusion? With a disposition to invade the essential rights of the community, and with the means of gratifying that disposition, is it presumable that the persons who were actuated by it would amuse themselves in the ridiculous task of fabricating election laws for securing a preference to a favorite class of men? Would they not be likely to prefer a conduct better adapted to their own immediate aggrandizement? Would they not rather boldly resolve to perpetuate themselves in office by one decisive act of usurpation, than to trust to precarious expedients which, in spite of all the precautions that might accompany them, might terminate in the dismission, disgrace, and ruin of their authors? Would they not fear that citizens, not less tenacious than conscious of their rights, would flock from the remote extremes of their respective States to the places of election, to overthrow their tyrants, and to substitute men who would be disposed to avenge the violated majesty of the people? PUBLIUS 1. Particularly in the Southern States and in this State. FEDERALIST No. 61 The Same Subject Continued (Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of Members) From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 26, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE more candid opposers of the provision respecting elections, contained in the plan of the convention, when pressed in argument, will sometimes concede the propriety of that provision; with this qualification, however, that it ought to have been accompanied with a declaration, that all elections should be had in the counties where the electors resided. This, say they, was a necessary precaution against an abuse of the power. A declaration of this nature would certainly have been harmless; so far as it would have had the effect of quieting apprehensions, it might not have been undesirable. But it would, in fact, have afforded little or no additional security against the danger apprehended; and the want of it will never be considered, by an impartial and judicious examiner, as a serious, still less as an insuperable, objection to the plan. The different views taken of the subject in the two preceding papers must be sufficient to satisfy all dispassionate and discerning men, that if the public liberty should ever be the victim of the ambition of the national rulers, the power under examination, at least, will be guiltless of the sacrifice. If those who are inclined to consult their jealousy only, would exercise it in a careful inspection of the several State constitutions, they would find little less room for disquietude and alarm, from the latitude which most of them allow in respect to elections, than from the latitude which is proposed to be allowed to the national government in the same respect. A review of their situation, in this particular, would tend greatly to remove any ill impressions which may remain in regard to this matter. But as that view would lead into long and tedious details, I shall content myself with the single example of the State in which I write. The constitution of New York makes no other provision for LOCALITY of elections, than that the members of the Assembly shall be elected in the COUNTIES; those of the Senate, in the great districts into which the State is or may be divided: these at present are four in number, and comprehend each from two to six counties. It may readily be perceived that it would not be more difficult to the legislature of New York to defeat the suffrages of the citizens of New York, by confining elections to particular places, than for the legislature of the United States to defeat the suffrages of the citizens of the Union, by the like expedient. Suppose, for instance, the city of Albany was to be appointed the sole place of election for the county and district of which it is a part, would not the inhabitants of that city speedily become the only electors of the members both of the Senate and Assembly for that county and district? Can we imagine that the electors who reside in the remote subdivisions of the counties of Albany, Saratoga, Cambridge, etc., or in any part of the county of Montgomery, would take the trouble to come to the city of Albany, to give their votes for members of the Assembly or Senate, sooner than they would repair to the city of New York, to participate in the choice of the members of the federal House of Representatives? The alarming indifference discoverable in the exercise of so invaluable a privilege under the existing laws, which afford every facility to it, furnishes a ready answer to this question. And, abstracted from any experience on the subject, we can be at no loss to determine, that when the place of election is at an INCONVENIENT DISTANCE from the elector, the effect upon his conduct will be the same whether that distance be twenty miles or twenty thousand miles. Hence it must appear, that objections to the particular modification of the federal power of regulating elections will, in substance, apply with equal force to the modification of the like power in the constitution of this State; and for this reason it will be impossible to acquit the one, and to condemn the other. A similar comparison would lead to the same conclusion in respect to the constitutions of most of the other States. If it should be said that defects in the State constitutions furnish no apology for those which are to be found in the plan proposed, I answer, that as the former have never been thought chargeable with inattention to the security of liberty, where the imputations thrown on the latter can be shown to be applicable to them also, the presumption is that they are rather the cavilling refinements of a predetermined opposition, than the wellfounded inferences of a candid research after truth. To those who are disposed to consider, as innocent omissions in the State constitutions, what they regard as unpardonable blemishes in the plan of the convention, nothing can be said; or at most, they can only be asked to assign some substantial reason why the representatives of the people in a single State should be more impregnable to the lust of power, or other sinister motives, than the representatives of the people of the United States? If they cannot do this, they ought at least to prove to us that it is easier to subvert the liberties of three millions of people, with the advantage of local governments to head their opposition, than of two hundred thousand people who are destitute of that advantage. And in relation to the point immediately under consideration, they ought to convince us that it is less probable that a predominant faction in a single State should, in order to maintain its superiority, incline to a preference of a particular class of electors, than that a similar spirit should take possession of the representatives of thirteen States, spread over a vast region, and in several respects distinguishable from each other by a diversity of local circumstances, prejudices, and interests. Hitherto my observations have only aimed at a vindication of the provision in question, on the ground of theoretic propriety, on that of the danger of placing the power elsewhere, and on that of the safety of placing it in the manner proposed. But there remains to be mentioned a positive advantage which will result from this disposition, and which could not as well have been obtained from any other: I allude to the circumstance of uniformity in the time of elections for the federal House of Representatives. It is more than possible that this uniformity may be found by experience to be of great importance to the public welfare, both as a security against the perpetuation of the same spirit in the body, and as a cure for the diseases of faction. If each State may choose its own time of election, it is possible there may be at least as many different periods as there are months in the year. The times of election in the several States, as they are now established for local purposes, vary between extremes as wide as March and November. The consequence of this diversity would be that there could never happen a total dissolution or renovation of the body at one time. If an improper spirit of any kind should happen to prevail in it, that spirit would be apt to infuse itself into the new members, as they come forward in succession. The mass would be likely to remain nearly the same, assimilating constantly to itself its gradual accretions. There is a contagion in example which few men have sufficient force of mind to resist. I am inclined to think that treble the duration in office, with the condition of a total dissolution of the body at the same time, might be less formidable to liberty than one third of that duration subject to gradual and successive alterations. Uniformity in the time of elections seems not less requisite for executing the idea of a regular rotation in the Senate, and for conveniently assembling the legislature at a stated period in each year. It may be asked, Why, then, could not a time have been fixed in the Constitution? As the most zealous adversaries of the plan of the convention in this State are, in general, not less zealous admirers of the constitution of the State, the question may be retorted, and it may be asked, Why was not a time for the like purpose fixed in the constitution of this State? No better answer can be given than that it was a matter which might safely be entrusted to legislative discretion; and that if a time had been appointed, it might, upon experiment, have been found less convenient than some other time. The same answer may be given to the question put on the other side. And it may be added that the supposed danger of a gradual change being merely speculative, it would have been hardly advisable upon that speculation to establish, as a fundamental point, what would deprive several States of the convenience of having the elections for their own governments and for the national government at the same epochs. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 62 The Senate For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, February 27, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: HAVING examined the constitution of the House of Representatives, and answered such of the objections against it as seemed to merit notice, I enter next on the examination of the Senate. The heads into which this member of the government may be considered are: I. The qualification of senators; II. The appointment of them by the State legislatures; III. The equality of representation in the Senate; IV. The number of senators, and the term for which they are to be elected; V. The powers vested in the Senate. I. The qualifications proposed for senators, as distinguished from those of representatives, consist in a more advanced age and a longer period of citizenship. A senator must be thirty years of age at least; as a representative must be twentyfive. And the former must have been a citizen nine years; as seven years are required for the latter. The propriety of these distinctions is explained by the nature of the senatorial trust, which, requiring greater extent of information and stability of character, requires at the same time that the senator should have reached a period of life most likely to supply these advantages; and which, participating immediately in transactions with foreign nations, ought to be exercised by none who are not thoroughly weaned from the prepossessions and habits incident to foreign birth and education. The term of nine years appears to be a prudent mediocrity between a total exclusion of adopted citizens, whose merits and talents may claim a share in the public confidence, and an indiscriminate and hasty admission of them, which might create a channel for foreign influence on the national councils. II. It is equally unnecessary to dilate on the appointment of senators by the State legislatures. Among the various modes which might have been devised for constituting this branch of the government, that which has been proposed by the convention is probably the most congenial with the public opinion. It is recommended by the double advantage of favoring a select appointment, and of giving to the State governments such an agency in the formation of the federal government as must secure the authority of the former, and may form a convenient link between the two systems. III. The equality of representation in the Senate is another point, which, being evidently the result of compromise between the opposite pretensions of the large and the small States, does not call for much discussion. If indeed it be right, that among a people thoroughly incorporated into one nation, every district ought to have a PROPORTIONAL share in the government, and that among independent and sovereign States, bound together by a simple league, the parties, however unequal in size, ought to have an EQUAL share in the common councils, it does not appear to be without some reason that in a compound republic, partaking both of the national and federal character, the government ought to be founded on a mixture of the principles of proportional and equal representation. But it is superfluous to try, by the standard of theory, a part of the Constitution which is allowed on all hands to be the result, not of theory, but \"of a spirit of amity, and that mutual deference and concession which the peculiarity of our political situation rendered indispensable.\" A common government, with powers equal to its objects, is called for by the voice, and still more loudly by the political situation, of America. A government founded on principles more consonant to the wishes of the larger States, is not likely to be obtained from the smaller States. The only option, then, for the former, lies between the proposed government and a government still more objectionable. Under this alternative, the advice of prudence must be to embrace the lesser evil; and, instead of indulging a fruitless anticipation of the possible mischiefs which may ensue, to contemplate rather the advantageous consequences which may qualify the sacrifice. In this spirit it may be remarked, that the equal vote allowed to each State is at once a constitutional recognition of the portion of sovereignty remaining in the individual States, and an instrument for preserving that residuary sovereignty. So far the equality ought to be no less acceptable to the large than to the small States; since they are not less solicitous to guard, by every possible expedient, against an improper consolidation of the States into one simple republic. Another advantage accruing from this ingredient in the constitution of the Senate is, the additional impediment it must prove against improper acts of legislation. No law or resolution can now be passed without the concurrence, first, of a majority of the people, and then, of a majority of the States. It must be acknowledged that this complicated check on legislation may in some instances be injurious as well as beneficial; and that the peculiar defense which it involves in favor of the smaller States, would be more rational, if any interests common to them, and distinct from those of the other States, would otherwise be exposed to peculiar danger. But as the larger States will always be able, by their power over the supplies, to defeat unreasonable exertions of this prerogative of the lesser States, and as the faculty and excess of lawmaking seem to be the diseases to which our governments are most liable, it is not impossible that this part of the Constitution may be more convenient in practice than it appears to many in contemplation. IV. The number of senators, and the duration of their appointment, come next to be considered. In order to form an accurate judgment on both of these points, it will be proper to inquire into the purposes which are to be answered by a senate; and in order to ascertain these, it will be necessary to review the inconveniences which a republic must suffer from the want of such an institution. First. It is a misfortune incident to republican government, though in a less degree than to other governments, that those who administer it may forget their obligations to their constituents, and prove unfaithful to their important trust. In this point of view, a senate, as a second branch of the legislative assembly, distinct from, and dividing the power with, a first, must be in all cases a salutary check on the government. It doubles the security to the people, by requiring the concurrence of two distinct bodies in schemes of usurpation or perfidy, where the ambition or corruption of one would otherwise be sufficient. This is a precaution founded on such clear principles, and now so well understood in the United States, that it would be more than superfluous to enlarge on it. I will barely remark, that as the improbability of sinister combinations will be in proportion to the dissimilarity in the genius of the two bodies, it must be politic to distinguish them from each other by every circumstance which will consist with a due harmony in all proper measures, and with the genuine principles of republican government. Second. The necessity of a senate is not less indicated by the propensity of all single and numerous assemblies to yield to the impulse of sudden and violent passions, and to be seduced by factious leaders into intemperate and pernicious resolutions. Examples on this subject might be cited without number; and from proceedings within the United States, as well as from the history of other nations. But a position that will not be contradicted, need not be proved. All that need be remarked is, that a body which is to correct this infirmity ought itself to be free from it, and consequently ought to be less numerous. It ought, moreover, to possess great firmness, and consequently ought to hold its authority by a tenure of considerable duration. Third. Another defect to be supplied by a senate lies in a want of due acquaintance with the objects and principles of legislation. It is not possible that an assembly of men called for the most part from pursuits of a private nature, continued in appointment for a short time, and led by no permanent motive to devote the intervals of public occupation to a study of the laws, the affairs, and the comprehensive interests of their country, should, if left wholly to themselves, escape a variety of important errors in the exercise of their legislative trust. It may be affirmed, on the best grounds, that no small share of the present embarrassments of America is to be charged on the blunders of our governments; and that these have proceeded from the heads rather than the hearts of most of the authors of them. What indeed are all the repealing, explaining, and amending laws, which fill and disgrace our voluminous codes, but so many monuments of deficient wisdom; so many impeachments exhibited by each succeeding against each preceding session; so many admonitions to the people, of the value of those aids which may be expected from a wellconstituted senate? A good government implies two things: first, fidelity to the object of government, which is the happiness of the people; secondly, a knowledge of the means by which that object can be best attained. Some governments are deficient in both these qualities; most governments are deficient in the first. I scruple not to assert, that in American governments too little attention has been paid to the last. The federal Constitution avoids this error; and what merits particular notice, it provides for the last in a mode which increases the security for the first. Fourth. The mutability in the public councils arising from a rapid succession of new members, however qualified they may be, points out, in the strongest manner, the necessity of some stable institution in the government. Every new election in the States is found to change one half of the representatives. From this change of men must proceed a change of opinions; and from a change of opinions, a change of measures. But a continual change even of good measures is inconsistent with every rule of prudence and every prospect of success. The remark is verified in private life, and becomes more just, as well as more important, in national transactions. To trace the mischievous effects of a mutable government would fill a volume. I will hint a few only, each of which will be perceived to be a source of innumerable others. In the first place, it forfeits the respect and confidence of other nations, and all the advantages connected with national character. An individual who is observed to be inconstant to his plans, or perhaps to carry on his affairs without any plan at all, is marked at once, by all prudent people, as a speedy victim to his own unsteadiness and folly. His more friendly neighbors may pity him, but all will decline to connect their fortunes with his; and not a few will seize the opportunity of making their fortunes out of his. One nation is to another what one individual is to another; with this melancholy distinction perhaps, that the former, with fewer of the benevolent emotions than the latter, are under fewer restraints also from taking undue advantage from the indiscretions of each other. Every nation, consequently, whose affairs betray a want of wisdom and stability, may calculate on every loss which can be sustained from the more systematic policy of their wiser neighbors. But the best instruction on this subject is unhappily conveyed to America by the example of her own situation. She finds that she is held in no respect by her friends; that she is the derision of her enemies; and that she is a prey to every nation which has an interest in speculating on her fluctuating councils and embarrassed affairs. The internal effects of a mutable policy are still more calamitous. It poisons the blessing of liberty itself. It will be of little avail to the people, that the laws are made by men of their own choice, if the laws be so voluminous that they cannot be read, or so incoherent that they cannot be understood; if they be repealed or revised before they are promulgated, or undergo such incessant changes that no man, who knows what the law is today, can guess what it will be tomorrow. Law is defined to be a rule of action; but how can that be a rule, which is little known, and less fixed? Another effect of public instability is the unreasonable advantage it gives to the sagacious, the enterprising, and the moneyed few over the industrious and uninformed mass of the people. Every new regulation concerning commerce or revenue, or in any way affecting the value of the different species of property, presents a new harvest to those who watch the change, and can trace its consequences; a harvest, reared not by themselves, but by the toils and cares of the great body of their fellowcitizens. This is a state of things in which it may be said with some truth that laws are made for the FEW, not for the MANY. In another point of view, great injury results from an unstable government. The want of confidence in the public councils damps every useful undertaking, the success and profit of which may depend on a continuance of existing arrangements. What prudent merchant will hazard his fortunes in any new branch of commerce when he knows not but that his plans may be rendered unlawful before they can be executed? What farmer or manufacturer will lay himself out for the encouragement given to any particular cultivation or establishment, when he can have no assurance that his preparatory labors and advances will not render him a victim to an inconstant government? In a word, no great improvement or laudable enterprise can go forward which requires the auspices of a steady system of national policy. But the most deplorable effect of all is that diminution of attachment and reverence which steals into the hearts of the people, towards a political system which betrays so many marks of infirmity, and disappoints so many of their flattering hopes. No government, any more than an individual, will long be respected without being truly respectable; nor be truly respectable, without possessing a certain portion of order and stability. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 63 The Senate Continued For the Independent Journal. Saturday, March 1, 1788 MADISON To the People of the State of New York: A FIFTH desideratum, illustrating the utility of a senate, is the want of a due sense of national character. Without a select and stable member of the government, the esteem of foreign powers will not only be forfeited by an unenlightened and variable policy, proceeding from the causes already mentioned, but the national councils will not possess that sensibility to the opinion of the world, which is perhaps not less necessary in order to merit, than it is to obtain, its respect and confidence. An attention to the judgment of other nations is important to every government for two reasons: the one is, that, independently of the merits of any particular plan or measure, it is desirable, on various accounts, that it should appear to other nations as the offspring of a wise and honorable policy; the second is, that in doubtful cases, particularly where the national councils may be warped by some strong passion or momentary interest, the presumed or known opinion of the impartial world may be the best guide that can be followed. What has not America lost by her want of character with foreign nations; and how many errors and follies would she not have avoided, if the justice and propriety of her measures had, in every instance, been previously tried by the light in which they would probably appear to the unbiased part of mankind? Yet however requisite a sense of national character may be, it is evident that it can never be sufficiently possessed by a numerous and changeable body. It can only be found in a number so small that a sensible degree of the praise and blame of public measures may be the portion of each individual; or in an assembly so durably invested with public trust, that the pride and consequence of its members may be sensibly incorporated with the reputation and prosperity of the community. The halfyearly representatives of Rhode Island would probably have been little affected in their deliberations on the iniquitous measures of that State, by arguments drawn from the light in which such measures would be viewed by foreign nations, or even by the sister States; whilst it can scarcely be doubted that if the concurrence of a select and stable body had been necessary, a regard to national character alone would have prevented the calamities under which that misguided people is now laboring. I add, as a SIXTH defect the want, in some important cases, of a due responsibility in the government to the people, arising from that frequency of elections which in other cases produces this responsibility. This remark will, perhaps, appear not only new, but paradoxical. It must nevertheless be acknowledged, when explained, to be as undeniable as it is important. Responsibility, in order to be reasonable, must be limited to objects within the power of the responsible party, and in order to be effectual, must relate to operations of that power, of which a ready and proper judgment can be formed by the constituents. The objects of government may be divided into two general classes: the one depending on measures which have singly an immediate and sensible operation; the other depending on a succession of wellchosen and wellconnected measures, which have a gradual and perhaps unobserved operation. The importance of the latter description to the collective and permanent welfare of every country, needs no explanation. And yet it is evident that an assembly elected for so short a term as to be unable to provide more than one or two links in a chain of measures, on which the general welfare may essentially depend, ought not to be answerable for the final result, any more than a steward or tenant, engaged for one year, could be justly made to answer for places or improvements which could not be accomplished in less than half a dozen years. Nor is it possible for the people to estimate the SHARE of influence which their annual assemblies may respectively have on events resulting from the mixed transactions of several years. It is sufficiently difficult to preserve a personal responsibility in the members of a NUMEROUS body, for such acts of the body as have an immediate, detached, and palpable operation on its constituents. The proper remedy for this defect must be an additional body in the legislative department, which, having sufficient permanency to provide for such objects as require a continued attention, and a train of measures, may be justly and effectually answerable for the attainment of those objects. Thus far I have considered the circumstances which point out the necessity of a wellconstructed Senate only as they relate to the representatives of the people. To a people as little blinded by prejudice or corrupted by flattery as those whom I address, I shall not scruple to add, that such an institution may be sometimes necessary as a defense to the people against their own temporary errors and delusions. As the cool and deliberate sense of the community ought, in all governments, and actually will, in all free governments, ultimately prevail over the views of its rulers; so there are particular moments in public affairs when the people, stimulated by some irregular passion, or some illicit advantage, or misled by the artful misrepresentations of interested men, may call for measures which they themselves will afterwards be the most ready to lament and condemn. In these critical moments, how salutary will be the interference of some temperate and respectable body of citizens, in order to check the misguided career, and to suspend the blow meditated by the people against themselves, until reason, justice, and truth can regain their authority over the public mind? What bitter anguish would not the people of Athens have often escaped if their government had contained so provident a safeguard against the tyranny of their own passions? Popular liberty might then have escaped the indelible reproach of decreeing to the same citizens the hemlock on one day and statues on the next. It may be suggested, that a people spread over an extensive region cannot, like the crowded inhabitants of a small district, be subject to the infection of violent passions, or to the danger of combining in pursuit of unjust measures. I am far from denying that this is a distinction of peculiar importance. I have, on the contrary, endeavored in a former paper to show, that it is one of the principal recommendations of a confederated republic. At the same time, this advantage ought not to be considered as superseding the use of auxiliary precautions. It may even be remarked, that the same extended situation, which will exempt the people of America from some of the dangers incident to lesser republics, will expose them to the inconveniency of remaining for a longer time under the influence of those misrepresentations which the combined industry of interested men may succeed in distributing among them. It adds no small weight to all these considerations, to recollect that history informs us of no longlived republic which had not a senate. Sparta, Rome, and Carthage are, in fact, the only states to whom that character can be applied. In each of the two first there was a senate for life. The constitution of the senate in the last is less known. Circumstantial evidence makes it probable that it was not different in this particular from the two others. It is at least certain, that it had some quality or other which rendered it an anchor against popular fluctuations; and that a smaller council, drawn out of the senate, was appointed not only for life, but filled up vacancies itself. These examples, though as unfit for the imitation, as they are repugnant to the genius, of America, are, notwithstanding, when compared with the fugitive and turbulent existence of other ancient republics, very instructive proofs of the necessity of some institution that will blend stability with liberty. I am not unaware of the circumstances which distinguish the American from other popular governments, as well ancient as modern; and which render extreme circumspection necessary, in reasoning from the one case to the other. But after allowing due weight to this consideration, it may still be maintained, that there are many points of similitude which render these examples not unworthy of our attention. Many of the defects, as we have seen, which can only be supplied by a senatorial institution, are common to a numerous assembly frequently elected by the people, and to the people themselves. There are others peculiar to the former, which require the control of such an institution. The people can never wilfully betray their own interests; but they may possibly be betrayed by the representatives of the people; and the danger will be evidently greater where the whole legislative trust is lodged in the hands of one body of men, than where the concurrence of separate and dissimilar bodies is required in every public act. The difference most relied on, between the American and other republics, consists in the principle of representation; which is the pivot on which the former move, and which is supposed to have been unknown to the latter, or at least to the ancient part of them. The use which has been made of this difference, in reasonings contained in former papers, will have shown that I am disposed neither to deny its existence nor to undervalue its importance. I feel the less restraint, therefore, in observing, that the position concerning the ignorance of the ancient governments on the subject of representation, is by no means precisely true in the latitude commonly given to it. Without entering into a disquisition which here would be misplaced, I will refer to a few known facts, in support of what I advance. In the most pure democracies of Greece, many of the executive functions were performed, not by the people themselves, but by officers elected by the people, and REPRESENTING the people in their EXECUTIVE capacity. Prior to the reform of Solon, Athens was governed by nine Archons, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE AT LARGE. The degree of power delegated to them seems to be left in great obscurity. Subsequent to that period, we find an assembly, first of four, and afterwards of six hundred members, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE; and PARTIALLY representing them in their LEGISLATIVE capacity, since they were not only associated with the people in the function of making laws, but had the exclusive right of originating legislative propositions to the people. The senate of Carthage, also, whatever might be its power, or the duration of its appointment, appears to have been ELECTIVE by the suffrages of the people. Similar instances might be traced in most, if not all the popular governments of antiquity. Lastly, in Sparta we meet with the Ephori, and in Rome with the Tribunes; two bodies, small indeed in numbers, but annually ELECTED BY THE WHOLE BODY OF THE PEOPLE, and considered as the REPRESENTATIVES of the people, almost in their PLENIPOTENTIARY capacity. The Cosmi of Crete were also annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE, and have been considered by some authors as an institution analogous to those of Sparta and Rome, with this difference only, that in the election of that representative body the right of suffrage was communicated to a part only of the people. From these facts, to which many others might be added, it is clear that the principle of representation was neither unknown to the ancients nor wholly overlooked in their political constitutions. The true distinction between these and the American governments, lies IN THE TOTAL EXCLUSION OF THE PEOPLE, IN THEIR COLLECTIVE CAPACITY, from any share in the LATTER, and not in the TOTAL EXCLUSION OF THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE from the administration of the FORMER. The distinction, however, thus qualified, must be admitted to leave a most advantageous superiority in favor of the United States. But to insure to this advantage its full effect, we must be careful not to separate it from the other advantage, of an extensive territory. For it cannot be believed, that any form of representative government could have succeeded within the narrow limits occupied by the democracies of Greece. In answer to all these arguments, suggested by reason, illustrated by examples, and enforced by our own experience, the jealous adversary of the Constitution will probably content himself with repeating, that a senate appointed not immediately by the people, and for the term of six years, must gradually acquire a dangerous preeminence in the government, and finally transform it into a tyrannical aristocracy. To this general answer, the general reply ought to be sufficient, that liberty may be endangered by the abuses of liberty as well as by the abuses of power; that there are numerous instances of the former as well as of the latter; and that the former, rather than the latter, are apparently most to be apprehended by the United States. But a more particular reply may be given. Before such a revolution can be effected, the Senate, it is to be observed, must in the first place corrupt itself; must next corrupt the State legislatures; must then corrupt the House of Representatives; and must finally corrupt the people at large. It is evident that the Senate must be first corrupted before it can attempt an establishment of tyranny. Without corrupting the State legislatures, it cannot prosecute the attempt, because the periodical change of members would otherwise regenerate the whole body. Without exerting the means of corruption with equal success on the House of Representatives, the opposition of that coequal branch of the government would inevitably defeat the attempt; and without corrupting the people themselves, a succession of new representatives would speedily restore all things to their pristine order. Is there any man who can seriously persuade himself that the proposed Senate can, by any possible means within the compass of human address, arrive at the object of a lawless ambition, through all these obstructions? If reason condemns the suspicion, the same sentence is pronounced by experience. The constitution of Maryland furnishes the most apposite example. The Senate of that State is elected, as the federal Senate will be, indirectly by the people, and for a term less by one year only than the federal Senate. It is distinguished, also, by the remarkable prerogative of filling up its own vacancies within the term of its appointment, and, at the same time, is not under the control of any such rotation as is provided for the federal Senate. There are some other lesser distinctions, which would expose the former to colorable objections, that do not lie against the latter. If the federal Senate, therefore, really contained the danger which has been so loudly proclaimed, some symptoms at least of a like danger ought by this time to have been betrayed by the Senate of Maryland, but no such symptoms have appeared. On the contrary, the jealousies at first entertained by men of the same description with those who view with terror the correspondent part of the federal Constitution, have been gradually extinguished by the progress of the experiment; and the Maryland constitution is daily deriving, from the salutary operation of this part of it, a reputation in which it will probably not be rivalled by that of any State in the Union. But if anything could silence the jealousies on this subject, it ought to be the British example. The Senate there instead of being elected for a term of six years, and of being unconfined to particular families or fortunes, is an hereditary assembly of opulent nobles. The House of Representatives, instead of being elected for two years, and by the whole body of the people, is elected for seven years, and, in very great proportion, by a very small proportion of the people. Here, unquestionably, ought to be seen in full display the aristocratic usurpations and tyranny which are at some future period to be exemplified in the United States. Unfortunately, however, for the antifederal argument, the British history informs us that this hereditary assembly has not been able to defend itself against the continual encroachments of the House of Representatives; and that it no sooner lost the support of the monarch, than it was actually crushed by the weight of the popular branch. As far as antiquity can instruct us on this subject, its examples support the reasoning which we have employed. In Sparta, the Ephori, the annual representatives of the people, were found an overmatch for the senate for life, continually gained on its authority and finally drew all power into their own hands. The Tribunes of Rome, who were the representatives of the people, prevailed, it is well known, in almost every contest with the senate for life, and in the end gained the most complete triumph over it. The fact is the more remarkable, as unanimity was required in every act of the Tribunes, even after their number was augmented to ten. It proves the irresistible force possessed by that branch of a free government, which has the people on its side. To these examples might be added that of Carthage, whose senate, according to the testimony of Polybius, instead of drawing all power into its vortex, had, at the commencement of the second Punic War, lost almost the whole of its original portion. Besides the conclusive evidence resulting from this assemblage of facts, that the federal Senate will never be able to transform itself, by gradual usurpations, into an independent and aristocratic body, we are warranted in believing, that if such a revolution should ever happen from causes which the foresight of man cannot guard against, the House of Representatives, with the people on their side, will at all times be able to bring back the Constitution to its primitive form and principles. Against the force of the immediate representatives of the people, nothing will be able to maintain even the constitutional authority of the Senate, but such a display of enlightened policy, and attachment to the public good, as will divide with that branch of the legislature the affections and support of the entire body of the people themselves. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 64 The Powers of the Senate From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, March 5, 1788. JAY To the People of the State of New York: IT IS a just and not a new observation, that enemies to particular persons, and opponents to particular measures, seldom confine their censures to such things only in either as are worthy of blame. Unless on this principle, it is difficult to explain the motives of their conduct, who condemn the proposed Constitution in the aggregate, and treat with severity some of the most unexceptionable articles in it. The second section gives power to the President, \"BY AND WITH THE ADVICE AND CONSENT OF THE SENATE, TO MAKE TREATIES, PROVIDED TWO THIRDS OF THE SENATORS PRESENT CONCUR.\" The power of making treaties is an important one, especially as it relates to war, peace, and commerce; and it should not be delegated but in such a mode, and with such precautions, as will afford the highest security that it will be exercised by men the best qualified for the purpose, and in the manner most conducive to the public good. The convention appears to have been attentive to both these points: they have directed the President to be chosen by select bodies of electors, to be deputed by the people for that express purpose; and they have committed the appointment of senators to the State legislatures. This mode has, in such cases, vastly the advantage of elections by the people in their collective capacity, where the activity of party zeal, taking the advantage of the supineness, the ignorance, and the hopes and fears of the unwary and interested, often places men in office by the votes of a small proportion of the electors. As the select assemblies for choosing the President, as well as the State legislatures who appoint the senators, will in general be composed of the most enlightened and respectable citizens, there is reason to presume that their attention and their votes will be directed to those men only who have become the most distinguished by their abilities and virtue, and in whom the people perceive just grounds for confidence. The Constitution manifests very particular attention to this object. By excluding men under thirtyfive from the first office, and those under thirty from the second, it confines the electors to men of whom the people have had time to form a judgment, and with respect to whom they will not be liable to be deceived by those brilliant appearances of genius and patriotism, which, like transient meteors, sometimes mislead as well as dazzle. If the observation be well founded, that wise kings will always be served by able ministers, it is fair to argue, that as an assembly of select electors possess, in a greater degree than kings, the means of extensive and accurate information relative to men and characters, so will their appointments bear at least equal marks of discretion and discernment. The inference which naturally results from these considerations is this, that the President and senators so chosen will always be of the number of those who best understand our national interests, whether considered in relation to the several States or to foreign nations, who are best able to promote those interests, and whose reputation for integrity inspires and merits confidence. With such men the power of making treaties may be safely lodged. Although the absolute necessity of system, in the conduct of any business, is universally known and acknowledged, yet the high importance of it in national affairs has not yet become sufficiently impressed on the public mind. They who wish to commit the power under consideration to a popular assembly, composed of members constantly coming and going in quick succession, seem not to recollect that such a body must necessarily be inadequate to the attainment of those great objects, which require to be steadily contemplated in all their relations and circumstances, and which can only be approached and achieved by measures which not only talents, but also exact information, and often much time, are necessary to concert and to execute. It was wise, therefore, in the convention to provide, not only that the power of making treaties should be committed to able and honest men, but also that they should continue in place a sufficient time to become perfectly acquainted with our national concerns, and to form and introduce a system for the management of them. The duration prescribed is such as will give them an opportunity of greatly extending their political information, and of rendering their accumulating experience more and more beneficial to their country. Nor has the convention discovered less prudence in providing for the frequent elections of senators in such a way as to obviate the inconvenience of periodically transferring those great affairs entirely to new men; for by leaving a considerable residue of the old ones in place, uniformity and order, as well as a constant succession of official information will be preserved. There are a few who will not admit that the affairs of trade and navigation should be regulated by a system cautiously formed and steadily pursued; and that both our treaties and our laws should correspond with and be made to promote it. It is of much consequence that this correspondence and conformity be carefully maintained; and they who assent to the truth of this position will see and confess that it is well provided for by making concurrence of the Senate necessary both to treaties and to laws. It seldom happens in the negotiation of treaties, of whatever nature, but that perfect SECRECY and immediate DESPATCH are sometimes requisite. These are cases where the most useful intelligence may be obtained, if the persons possessing it can be relieved from apprehensions of discovery. Those apprehensions will operate on those persons whether they are actuated by mercenary or friendly motives; and there doubtless are many of both descriptions, who would rely on the secrecy of the President, but who would not confide in that of the Senate, and still less in that of a large popular Assembly. The convention have done well, therefore, in so disposing of the power of making treaties, that although the President must, in forming them, act by the advice and consent of the Senate, yet he will be able to manage the business of intelligence in such a manner as prudence may suggest. They who have turned their attention to the affairs of men, must have perceived that there are tides in them; tides very irregular in their duration, strength, and direction, and seldom found to run twice exactly in the same manner or measure. To discern and to profit by these tides in national affairs is the business of those who preside over them; and they who have had much experience on this head inform us, that there frequently are occasions when days, nay, even when hours, are precious. The loss of a battle, the death of a prince, the removal of a minister, or other circumstances intervening to change the present posture and aspect of affairs, may turn the most favorable tide into a course opposite to our wishes. As in the field, so in the cabinet, there are moments to be seized as they pass, and they who preside in either should be left in capacity to improve them. So often and so essentially have we heretofore suffered from the want of secrecy and despatch, that the Constitution would have been inexcusably defective, if no attention had been paid to those objects. Those matters which in negotiations usually require the most secrecy and the most despatch, are those preparatory and auxiliary measures which are not otherwise important in a national view, than as they tend to facilitate the attainment of the objects of the negotiation. For these, the President will find no difficulty to provide; and should any circumstance occur which requires the advice and consent of the Senate, he may at any time convene them. Thus we see that the Constitution provides that our negotiations for treaties shall have every advantage which can be derived from talents, information, integrity, and deliberate investigations, on the one hand, and from secrecy and despatch on the other. But to this plan, as to most others that have ever appeared, objections are contrived and urged. Some are displeased with it, not on account of any errors or defects in it, but because, as the treaties, when made, are to have the force of laws, they should be made only by men invested with legislative authority. These gentlemen seem not to consider that the judgments of our courts, and the commissions constitutionally given by our governor, are as valid and as binding on all persons whom they concern, as the laws passed by our legislature. All constitutional acts of power, whether in the executive or in the judicial department, have as much legal validity and obligation as if they proceeded from the legislature; and therefore, whatever name be given to the power of making treaties, or however obligatory they may be when made, certain it is, that the people may, with much propriety, commit the power to a distinct body from the legislature, the executive, or the judicial. It surely does not follow, that because they have given the power of making laws to the legislature, that therefore they should likewise give them the power to do every other act of sovereignty by which the citizens are to be bound and affected. Others, though content that treaties should be made in the mode proposed, are averse to their being the SUPREME laws of the land. They insist, and profess to believe, that treaties like acts of assembly, should be repealable at pleasure. This idea seems to be new and peculiar to this country, but new errors, as well as new truths, often appear. These gentlemen would do well to reflect that a treaty is only another name for a bargain, and that it would be impossible to find a nation who would make any bargain with us, which should be binding on them ABSOLUTELY, but on us only so long and so far as we may think proper to be bound by it. They who make laws may, without doubt, amend or repeal them; and it will not be disputed that they who make treaties may alter or cancel them; but still let us not forget that treaties are made, not by only one of the contracting parties, but by both; and consequently, that as the consent of both was essential to their formation at first, so must it ever afterwards be to alter or cancel them. The proposed Constitution, therefore, has not in the least extended the obligation of treaties. They are just as binding, and just as far beyond the lawful reach of legislative acts now, as they will be at any future period, or under any form of government. However useful jealousy may be in republics, yet when like bile in the natural, it abounds too much in the body politic, the eyes of both become very liable to be deceived by the delusive appearances which that malady casts on surrounding objects. From this cause, probably, proceed the fears and apprehensions of some, that the President and Senate may make treaties without an equal eye to the interests of all the States. Others suspect that two thirds will oppress the remaining third, and ask whether those gentlemen are made sufficiently responsible for their conduct; whether, if they act corruptly, they can be punished; and if they make disadvantageous treaties, how are we to get rid of those treaties? As all the States are equally represented in the Senate, and by men the most able and the most willing to promote the interests of their constituents, they will all have an equal degree of influence in that body, especially while they continue to be careful in appointing proper persons, and to insist on their punctual attendance. In proportion as the United States assume a national form and a national character, so will the good of the whole be more and more an object of attention, and the government must be a weak one indeed, if it should forget that the good of the whole can only be promoted by advancing the good of each of the parts or members which compose the whole. It will not be in the power of the President and Senate to make any treaties by which they and their families and estates will not be equally bound and affected with the rest of the community; and, having no private interests distinct from that of the nation, they will be under no temptations to neglect the latter. As to corruption, the case is not supposable. He must either have been very unfortunate in his intercourse with the world, or possess a heart very susceptible of such impressions, who can think it probable that the President and two thirds of the Senate will ever be capable of such unworthy conduct. The idea is too gross and too invidious to be entertained. But in such a case, if it should ever happen, the treaty so obtained from us would, like all other fraudulent contracts, be null and void by the law of nations. With respect to their responsibility, it is difficult to conceive how it could be increased. Every consideration that can influence the human mind, such as honor, oaths, reputations, conscience, the love of country, and family affections and attachments, afford security for their fidelity. In short, as the Constitution has taken the utmost care that they shall be men of talents and integrity, we have reason to be persuaded that the treaties they make will be as advantageous as, all circumstances considered, could be made; and so far as the fear of punishment and disgrace can operate, that motive to good behavior is amply afforded by the article on the subject of impeachments. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 65 The Powers of the Senate Continued From the New York Packet. Friday, March 7, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE remaining powers which the plan of the convention allots to the Senate, in a distinct capacity, are comprised in their participation with the executive in the appointment to offices, and in their judicial character as a court for the trial of impeachments. As in the business of appointments the executive will be the principal agent, the provisions relating to it will most properly be discussed in the examination of that department. We will, therefore, conclude this head with a view of the judicial character of the Senate. A wellconstituted court for the trial of impeachments is an object not more to be desired than difficult to be obtained in a government wholly elective. The subjects of its jurisdiction are those offenses which proceed from the misconduct of public men, or, in other words, from the abuse or violation of some public trust. They are of a nature which may with peculiar propriety be denominated POLITICAL, as they relate chiefly to injuries done immediately to the society itself. The prosecution of them, for this reason, will seldom fail to agitate the passions of the whole community, and to divide it into parties more or less friendly or inimical to the accused. In many cases it will connect itself with the preexisting factions, and will enlist all their animosities, partialities, influence, and interest on one side or on the other; and in such cases there will always be the greatest danger that the decision will be regulated more by the comparative strength of parties, than by the real demonstrations of innocence or guilt. The delicacy and magnitude of a trust which so deeply concerns the political reputation and existence of every man engaged in the administration of public affairs, speak for themselves. The difficulty of placing it rightly, in a government resting entirely on the basis of periodical elections, will as readily be perceived, when it is considered that the most conspicuous characters in it will, from that circumstance, be too often the leaders or the tools of the most cunning or the most numerous faction, and on this account, can hardly be expected to possess the requisite neutrality towards those whose conduct may be the subject of scrutiny. The convention, it appears, thought the Senate the most fit depositary of this important trust. Those who can best discern the intrinsic difficulty of the thing, will be least hasty in condemning that opinion, and will be most inclined to allow due weight to the arguments which may be supposed to have produced it. What, it may be asked, is the true spirit of the institution itself? Is it not designed as a method of NATIONAL INQUEST into the conduct of public men? If this be the design of it, who can so properly be the inquisitors for the nation as the representatives of the nation themselves? It is not disputed that the power of originating the inquiry, or, in other words, of preferring the impeachment, ought to be lodged in the hands of one branch of the legislative body. Will not the reasons which indicate the propriety of this arrangement strongly plead for an admission of the other branch of that body to a share of the inquiry? The model from which the idea of this institution has been borrowed, pointed out that course to the convention. In Great Britain it is the province of the House of Commons to prefer the impeachment, and of the House of Lords to decide upon it. Several of the State constitutions have followed the example. As well the latter, as the former, seem to have regarded the practice of impeachments as a bridle in the hands of the legislative body upon the executive servants of the government. Is not this the true light in which it ought to be regarded? Where else than in the Senate could have been found a tribunal sufficiently dignified, or sufficiently independent? What other body would be likely to feel CONFIDENCE ENOUGH IN ITS OWN SITUATION, to preserve, unawed and uninfluenced, the necessary impartiality between an INDIVIDUAL accused, and the REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE, HIS ACCUSERS? Could the Supreme Court have been relied upon as answering this description? It is much to be doubted, whether the members of that tribunal would at all times be endowed with so eminent a portion of fortitude, as would be called for in the execution of so difficult a task; and it is still more to be doubted, whether they would possess the degree of credit and authority, which might, on certain occasions, be indispensable towards reconciling the people to a decision that should happen to clash with an accusation brought by their immediate representatives. A deficiency in the first, would be fatal to the accused; in the last, dangerous to the public tranquillity. The hazard in both these respects, could only be avoided, if at all, by rendering that tribunal more numerous than would consist with a reasonable attention to economy. The necessity of a numerous court for the trial of impeachments, is equally dictated by the nature of the proceeding. This can never be tied down by such strict rules, either in the delineation of the offense by the prosecutors, or in the construction of it by the judges, as in common cases serve to limit the discretion of courts in favor of personal security. There will be no jury to stand between the judges who are to pronounce the sentence of the law, and the party who is to receive or suffer it. The awful discretion which a court of impeachments must necessarily have, to doom to honor or to infamy the most confidential and the most distinguished characters of the community, forbids the commitment of the trust to a small number of persons. These considerations seem alone sufficient to authorize a conclusion, that the Supreme Court would have been an improper substitute for the Senate, as a court of impeachments. There remains a further consideration, which will not a little strengthen this conclusion. It is this: The punishment which may be the consequence of conviction upon impeachment, is not to terminate the chastisement of the offender. After having been sentenced to a perpetual ostracism from the esteem and confidence, and honors and emoluments of his country, he will still be liable to prosecution and punishment in the ordinary course of law. Would it be proper that the persons who had disposed of his fame, and his most valuable rights as a citizen in one trial, should, in another trial, for the same offense, be also the disposers of his life and his fortune? Would there not be the greatest reason to apprehend, that error, in the first sentence, would be the parent of error in the second sentence? That the strong bias of one decision would be apt to overrule the influence of any new lights which might be brought to vary the complexion of another decision? Those who know anything of human nature, will not hesitate to answer these questions in the affirmative; and will be at no loss to perceive, that by making the same persons judges in both cases, those who might happen to be the objects of prosecution would, in a great measure, be deprived of the double security intended them by a double trial. The loss of life and estate would often be virtually included in a sentence which, in its terms, imported nothing more than dismission from a present, and disqualification for a future, office. It may be said, that the intervention of a jury, in the second instance, would obviate the danger. But juries are frequently influenced by the opinions of judges. They are sometimes induced to find special verdicts, which refer the main question to the decision of the court. Who would be willing to stake his life and his estate upon the verdict of a jury acting under the auspices of judges who had predetermined his guilt? Would it have been an improvement of the plan, to have united the Supreme Court with the Senate, in the formation of the court of impeachments? This union would certainly have been attended with several advantages; but would they not have been overbalanced by the signal disadvantage, already stated, arising from the agency of the same judges in the double prosecution to which the offender would be liable? To a certain extent, the benefits of that union will be obtained from making the chief justice of the Supreme Court the president of the court of impeachments, as is proposed to be done in the plan of the convention; while the inconveniences of an entire incorporation of the former into the latter will be substantially avoided. This was perhaps the prudent mean. I forbear to remark upon the additional pretext for clamor against the judiciary, which so considerable an augmentation of its authority would have afforded. Would it have been desirable to have composed the court for the trial of impeachments, of persons wholly distinct from the other departments of the government? There are weighty arguments, as well against, as in favor of, such a plan. To some minds it will not appear a trivial objection, that it could tend to increase the complexity of the political machine, and to add a new spring to the government, the utility of which would at best be questionable. But an objection which will not be thought by any unworthy of attention, is this: a court formed upon such a plan, would either be attended with a heavy expense, or might in practice be subject to a variety of casualties and inconveniences. It must either consist of permanent officers, stationary at the seat of government, and of course entitled to fixed and regular stipends, or of certain officers of the State governments to be called upon whenever an impeachment was actually depending. It will not be easy to imagine any third mode materially different, which could rationally be proposed. As the court, for reasons already given, ought to be numerous, the first scheme will be reprobated by every man who can compare the extent of the public wants with the means of supplying them. The second will be espoused with caution by those who will seriously consider the difficulty of collecting men dispersed over the whole Union; the injury to the innocent, from the procrastinated determination of the charges which might be brought against them; the advantage to the guilty, from the opportunities which delay would afford to intrigue and corruption; and in some cases the detriment to the State, from the prolonged inaction of men whose firm and faithful execution of their duty might have exposed them to the persecution of an intemperate or designing majority in the House of Representatives. Though this latter supposition may seem harsh, and might not be likely often to be verified, yet it ought not to be forgotten that the demon of faction will, at certain seasons, extend his sceptre over all numerous bodies of men. But though one or the other of the substitutes which have been examined, or some other that might be devised, should be thought preferable to the plan in this respect, reported by the convention, it will not follow that the Constitution ought for this reason to be rejected. If mankind were to resolve to agree in no institution of government, until every part of it had been adjusted to the most exact standard of perfection, society would soon become a general scene of anarchy, and the world a desert. Where is the standard of perfection to be found? Who will undertake to unite the discordant opinions of a whole community, in the same judgment of it; and to prevail upon one conceited projector to renounce his INFALLIBLE criterion for the FALLIBLE criterion of his more CONCEITED NEIGHBOR? To answer the purpose of the adversaries of the Constitution, they ought to prove, not merely that particular provisions in it are not the best which might have been imagined, but that the plan upon the whole is bad and pernicious. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 66 Objections to the Power of the Senate To Set as a Court for Impeachments Further Considered. From The Independent Journal. Saturday, March 8, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: A REVIEW of the principal objections that have appeared against the proposed court for the trial of impeachments, will not improbably eradicate the remains of any unfavorable impressions which may still exist in regard to this matter. The FIRST of these objections is, that the provision in question confounds legislative and judiciary authorities in the same body, in violation of that important and wellestablished maxim which requires a separation between the different departments of power. The true meaning of this maxim has been discussed and ascertained in another place, and has been shown to be entirely compatible with a partial intermixture of those departments for special purposes, preserving them, in the main, distinct and unconnected. This partial intermixture is even, in some cases, not only proper but necessary to the mutual defense of the several members of the government against each other. An absolute or qualified negative in the executive upon the acts of the legislative body, is admitted, by the ablest adepts in political science, to be an indispensable barrier against the encroachments of the latter upon the former. And it may, perhaps, with no less reason be contended, that the powers relating to impeachments are, as before intimated, an essential check in the hands of that body upon the encroachments of the executive. The division of them between the two branches of the legislature, assigning to one the right of accusing, to the other the right of judging, avoids the inconvenience of making the same persons both accusers and judges; and guards against the danger of persecution, from the prevalency of a factious spirit in either of those branches. As the concurrence of two thirds of the Senate will be requisite to a condemnation, the security to innocence, from this additional circumstance, will be as complete as itself can desire. It is curious to observe, with what vehemence this part of the plan is assailed, on the principle here taken notice of, by men who profess to admire, without exception, the constitution of this State; while that constitution makes the Senate, together with the chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, not only a court of impeachments, but the highest judicatory in the State, in all causes, civil and criminal. The proportion, in point of numbers, of the chancellor and judges to the senators, is so inconsiderable, that the judiciary authority of New York, in the last resort, may, with truth, be said to reside in its Senate. If the plan of the convention be, in this respect, chargeable with a departure from the celebrated maxim which has been so often mentioned, and seems to be so little understood, how much more culpable must be the constitution of New York?(1) A SECOND objection to the Senate, as a court of impeachments, is, that it contributes to an undue accumulation of power in that body, tending to give to the government a countenance too aristocratic. The Senate, it is observed, is to have concurrent authority with the Executive in the formation of treaties and in the appointment to offices: if, say the objectors, to these prerogatives is added that of deciding in all cases of impeachment, it will give a decided predominancy to senatorial influence. To an objection so little precise in itself, it is not easy to find a very precise answer. Where is the measure or criterion to which we can appeal, for determining what will give the Senate too much, too little, or barely the proper degree of influence? Will it not be more safe, as well as more simple, to dismiss such vague and uncertain calculations, to examine each power by itself, and to decide, on general principles, where it may be deposited with most advantage and least inconvenience? If we take this course, it will lead to a more intelligible, if not to a more certain result. The disposition of the power of making treaties, which has obtained in the plan of the convention, will, then, if I mistake not, appear to be fully justified by the considerations stated in a former number, and by others which will occur under the next head of our inquiries. The expediency of the junction of the Senate with the Executive, in the power of appointing to offices, will, I trust, be placed in a light not less satisfactory, in the disquisitions under the same head. And I flatter myself the observations in my last paper must have gone no inconsiderable way towards proving that it was not easy, if practicable, to find a more fit receptacle for the power of determining impeachments, than that which has been chosen. If this be truly the case, the hypothetical dread of the too great weight of the Senate ought to be discarded from our reasonings. But this hypothesis, such as it is, has already been refuted in the remarks applied to the duration in office prescribed for the senators. It was by them shown, as well on the credit of historical examples, as from the reason of the thing, that the most POPULAR branch of every government, partaking of the republican genius, by being generally the favorite of the people, will be as generally a full match, if not an overmatch, for every other member of the Government. But independent of this most active and operative principle, to secure the equilibrium of the national House of Representatives, the plan of the convention has provided in its favor several important counterpoises to the additional authorities to be conferred upon the Senate. The exclusive privilege of originating money bills will belong to the House of Representatives. The same house will possess the sole right of instituting impeachments: is not this a complete counterbalance to that of determining them? The same house will be the umpire in all elections of the President, which do not unite the suffrages of a majority of the whole number of electors; a case which it cannot be doubted will sometimes, if not frequently, happen. The constant possibility of the thing must be a fruitful source of influence to that body. The more it is contemplated, the more important will appear this ultimate though contingent power, of deciding the competitions of the most illustrious citizens of the Union, for the first office in it. It would not perhaps be rash to predict, that as a mean of influence it will be found to outweigh all the peculiar attributes of the Senate. A THIRD objection to the Senate as a court of impeachments, is drawn from the agency they are to have in the appointments to office. It is imagined that they would be too indulgent judges of the conduct of men, in whose official creation they had participated. The principle of this objection would condemn a practice, which is to be seen in all the State governments, if not in all the governments with which we are acquainted: I mean that of rendering those who hold offices during pleasure, dependent on the pleasure of those who appoint them. With equal plausibility might it be alleged in this case, that the favoritism of the latter would always be an asylum for the misbehavior of the former. But that practice, in contradiction to this principle, proceeds upon the presumption, that the responsibility of those who appoint, for the fitness and competency of the persons on whom they bestow their choice, and the interest they will have in the respectable and prosperous administration of affairs, will inspire a sufficient disposition to dismiss from a share in it all such who, by their conduct, shall have proved themselves unworthy of the confidence reposed in them. Though facts may not always correspond with this presumption, yet if it be, in the main, just, it must destroy the supposition that the Senate, who will merely sanction the choice of the Executive, should feel a bias, towards the objects of that choice, strong enough to blind them to the evidences of guilt so extraordinary, as to have induced the representatives of the nation to become its accusers. If any further arguments were necessary to evince the improbability of such a bias, it might be found in the nature of the agency of the Senate in the business of appointments. It will be the office of the President to NOMINATE, and, with the advice and consent of the Senate, to APPOINT. There will, of course, be no exertion of CHOICE on the part of the Senate. They may defeat one choice of the Executive, and oblige him to make another; but they cannot themselves CHOOSEthey can only ratify or reject the choice of the President. They might even entertain a preference to some other person, at the very moment they were assenting to the one proposed, because there might be no positive ground of opposition to him; and they could not be sure, if they withheld their assent, that the subsequent nomination would fall upon their own favorite, or upon any other person in their estimation more meritorious than the one rejected. Thus it could hardly happen, that the majority of the Senate would feel any other complacency towards the object of an appointment than such as the appearances of merit might inspire, and the proofs of the want of it destroy. A FOURTH objection to the Senate in the capacity of a court of impeachments, is derived from its union with the Executive in the power of making treaties. This, it has been said, would constitute the senators their own judges, in every case of a corrupt or perfidious execution of that trust. After having combined with the Executive in betraying the interests of the nation in a ruinous treaty, what prospect, it is asked, would there be of their being made to suffer the punishment they would deserve, when they were themselves to decide upon the accusation brought against them for the treachery of which they have been guilty? This objection has been circulated with more earnestness and with greater show of reason than any other which has appeared against this part of the plan; and yet I am deceived if it does not rest upon an erroneous foundation. The security essentially intended by the Constitution against corruption and treachery in the formation of treaties, is to be sought for in the numbers and characters of those who are to make them. The JOINT AGENCY of the Chief Magistrate of the Union, and of two thirds of the members of a body selected by the collective wisdom of the legislatures of the several States, is designed to be the pledge for the fidelity of the national councils in this particular. The convention might with propriety have meditated the punishment of the Executive, for a deviation from the instructions of the Senate, or a want of integrity in the conduct of the negotiations committed to him; they might also have had in view the punishment of a few leading individuals in the Senate, who should have prostituted their influence in that body as the mercenary instruments of foreign corruption: but they could not, with more or with equal propriety, have contemplated the impeachment and punishment of two thirds of the Senate, consenting to an improper treaty, than of a majority of that or of the other branch of the national legislature, consenting to a pernicious or unconstitutional lawa principle which, I believe, has never been admitted into any government. How, in fact, could a majority in the House of Representatives impeach themselves? Not better, it is evident, than two thirds of the Senate might try themselves. And yet what reason is there, that a majority of the House of Representatives, sacrificing the interests of the society by an unjust and tyrannical act of legislation, should escape with impunity, more than two thirds of the Senate, sacrificing the same interests in an injurious treaty with a foreign power? The truth is, that in all such cases it is essential to the freedom and to the necessary independence of the deliberations of the body, that the members of it should be exempt from punishment for acts done in a collective capacity; and the security to the society must depend on the care which is taken to confide the trust to proper hands, to make it their interest to execute it with fidelity, and to make it as difficult as possible for them to combine in any interest opposite to that of the public good. So far as might concern the misbehavior of the Executive in perverting the instructions or contravening the views of the Senate, we need not be apprehensive of the want of a disposition in that body to punish the abuse of their confidence or to vindicate their own authority. We may thus far count upon their pride, if not upon their virtue. And so far even as might concern the corruption of leading members, by whose arts and influence the majority may have been inveigled into measures odious to the community, if the proofs of that corruption should be satisfactory, the usual propensity of human nature will warrant us in concluding that there would be commonly no defect of inclination in the body to divert the public resentment from themselves by a ready sacrifice of the authors of their mismanagement and disgrace. PUBLIUS 1. In that of New Jersey, also, the final judiciary authority is in a branch of the legislature. In New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and South Carolina, one branch of the legislature is the court for the trial of impeachments. FEDERALIST No. 67 The Executive Department From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 11, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE constitution of the executive department of the proposed government, claims next our attention. There is hardly any part of the system which could have been attended with greater difficulty in the arrangement of it than this; and there is, perhaps, none which has been inveighed against with less candor or criticised with less judgment. Here the writers against the Constitution seem to have taken pains to signalize their talent of misrepresentation. Calculating upon the aversion of the people to monarchy, they have endeavored to enlist all their jealousies and apprehensions in opposition to the intended President of the United States; not merely as the embryo, but as the fullgrown progeny, of that detested parent. To establish the pretended affinity, they have not scrupled to draw resources even from the regions of fiction. The authorities of a magistrate, in few instances greater, in some instances less, than those of a governor of New York, have been magnified into more than royal prerogatives. He has been decorated with attributes superior in dignity and splendor to those of a king of Great Britain. He has been shown to us with the diadem sparkling on his brow and the imperial purple flowing in his train. He has been seated on a throne surrounded with minions and mistresses, giving audience to the envoys of foreign potentates, in all the supercilious pomp of majesty. The images of Asiatic despotism and voluptuousness have scarcely been wanting to crown the exaggerated scene. We have been taught to tremble at the terrific visages of murdering janizaries, and to blush at the unveiled mysteries of a future seraglio. Attempts so extravagant as these to disfigure or, it might rather be said, to metamorphose the object, render it necessary to take an accurate view of its real nature and form: in order as well to ascertain its true aspect and genuine appearance, as to unmask the disingenuity and expose the fallacy of the counterfeit resemblances which have been so insidiously, as well as industriously, propagated. In the execution of this task, there is no man who would not find it an arduous effort either to behold with moderation, or to treat with seriousness, the devices, not less weak than wicked, which have been contrived to pervert the public opinion in relation to the subject. They so far exceed the usual though unjustifiable licenses of party artifice, that even in a disposition the most candid and tolerant, they must force the sentiments which favor an indulgent construction of the conduct of political adversaries to give place to a voluntary and unreserved indignation. It is impossible not to bestow the imputation of deliberate imposture and deception upon the gross pretense of a similitude between a king of Great Britain and a magistrate of the character marked out for that of the President of the United States. It is still more impossible to withhold that imputation from the rash and barefaced expedients which have been employed to give success to the attempted imposition. In one instance, which I cite as a sample of the general spirit, the temerity has proceeded so far as to ascribe to the President of the United States a power which by the instrument reported is EXPRESSLY allotted to the Executives of the individual States. I mean the power of filling casual vacancies in the Senate. This bold experiment upon the discernment of his countrymen has been hazarded by a writer who (whatever may be his real merit) has had no inconsiderable share in the applauses of his party(1); and who, upon this false and unfounded suggestion, has built a series of observations equally false and unfounded. Let him now be confronted with the evidence of the fact, and let him, if he be able, justify or extenuate the shameful outrage he has offered to the dictates of truth and to the rules of fair dealing. The second clause of the second section of the second article empowers the President of the United States \"to nominate, and by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors, other public ministers and consuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all other OFFICERS of United States whose appointments are NOT in the Constitution OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR, and WHICH SHALL BE ESTABLISHED BY LAW.\" Immediately after this clause follows another in these words: \"The President shall have power to fill up all VACANCIES that may happen DURING THE RECESS OF THE SENATE, by granting commissions which shall EXPIRE AT THE END OF THEIR NEXT SESSION.\" It is from this last provision that the pretended power of the President to fill vacancies in the Senate has been deduced. A slight attention to the connection of the clauses, and to the obvious meaning of the terms, will satisfy us that the deduction is not even colorable. The first of these two clauses, it is clear, only provides a mode for appointing such officers, \"whose appointments are NOT OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR in the Constitution, and which SHALL BE ESTABLISHED BY LAW\"; of course it cannot extend to the appointments of senators, whose appointments are OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR in the Constitution(2), and who are ESTABLISHED BY THE CONSTITUTION, and will not require a future establishment by law. This position will hardly be contested. The last of these two clauses, it is equally clear, cannot be understood to comprehend the power of filling vacancies in the Senate, for the following reasons: First. The relation in which that clause stands to the other, which declares the general mode of appointing officers of the United States, denotes it to be nothing more than a supplement to the other, for the purpose of establishing an auxiliary method of appointment, in cases to which the general method was inadequate. The ordinary power of appointment is confined to the President and Senate JOINTLY, and can therefore only be exercised during the session of the Senate; but as it would have been improper to oblige this body to be continually in session for the appointment of officers and as vacancies might happen IN THEIR RECESS, which it might be necessary for the public service to fill without delay, the succeeding clause is evidently intended to authorize the President, SINGLY, to make temporary appointments \"during the recess of the Senate, by granting commissions which shall expire at the end of their next session.\" Second. If this clause is to be considered as supplementary to the one which precedes, the VACANCIES of which it speaks must be construed to relate to the \"officers\" described in the preceding one; and this, we have seen, excludes from its description the members of the Senate. Third. The time within which the power is to operate, \"during the recess of the Senate,\" and the duration of the appointments, \"to the end of the next session\" of that body, conspire to elucidate the sense of the provision, which, if it had been intended to comprehend senators, would naturally have referred the temporary power of filling vacancies to the recess of the State legislatures, who are to make the permanent appointments, and not to the recess of the national Senate, who are to have no concern in those appointments; and would have extended the duration in office of the temporary senators to the next session of the legislature of the State, in whose representation the vacancies had happened, instead of making it to expire at the end of the ensuing session of the national Senate. The circumstances of the body authorized to make the permanent appointments would, of course, have governed the modification of a power which related to the temporary appointments; and as the national Senate is the body, whose situation is alone contemplated in the clause upon which the suggestion under examination has been founded, the vacancies to which it alludes can only be deemed to respect those officers in whose appointment that body has a concurrent agency with the President. But last, the first and second clauses of the third section of the first article, not only obviate all possibility of doubt, but destroy the pretext of misconception. The former provides, that \"the Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen BY THE LEGISLATURE THEREOF for six years\"; and the latter directs, that, \"if vacancies in that body should happen by resignation or otherwise, DURING THE RECESS OF THE LEGISLATURE OF ANY STATE, the Executive THEREOF may make temporary appointments until the NEXT MEETING OF THE LEGISLATURE, which shall then fill such vacancies.\" Here is an express power given, in clear and unambiguous terms, to the State Executives, to fill casual vacancies in the Senate, by temporary appointments; which not only invalidates the supposition, that the clause before considered could have been intended to confer that power upon the President of the United States, but proves that this supposition, destitute as it is even of the merit of plausibility, must have originated in an intention to deceive the people, too palpable to be obscured by sophistry, too atrocious to be palliated by hypocrisy. I have taken the pains to select this instance of misrepresentation, and to place it in a clear and strong light, as an unequivocal proof of the unwarrantable arts which are practiced to prevent a fair and impartial judgment of the real merits of the Constitution submitted to the consideration of the people. Nor have I scrupled, in so flagrant a case, to allow myself a severity of animadversion little congenial with the general spirit of these papers. I hesitate not to submit it to the decision of any candid and honest adversary of the proposed government, whether language can furnish epithets of too much asperity, for so shameless and so prostitute an attempt to impose on the citizens of America. PUBLIUS 1. See CATO, No. V. 2. Article I, section 3, clause 1. FEDERALIST No. 68 The Mode of Electing the President From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, March 12, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE mode of appointment of the Chief Magistrate of the United States is almost the only part of the system, of any consequence, which has escaped without severe censure, or which has received the slightest mark of approbation from its opponents. The most plausible of these, who has appeared in print, has even deigned to admit that the election of the President is pretty well guarded.(1) I venture somewhat further, and hesitate not to affirm, that if the manner of it be not perfect, it is at least excellent. It unites in an eminent degree all the advantages, the union of which was to be wished for.(E1) It was desirable that the sense of the people should operate in the choice of the person to whom so important a trust was to be confided. This end will be answered by committing the right of making it, not to any preestablished body, but to men chosen by the people for the special purpose, and at the particular conjuncture. It was equally desirable, that the immediate election should be made by men most capable of analyzing the qualities adapted to the station, and acting under circumstances favorable to deliberation, and to a judicious combination of all the reasons and inducements which were proper to govern their choice. A small number of persons, selected by their fellowcitizens from the general mass, will be most likely to possess the information and discernment requisite to such complicated investigations. It was also peculiarly desirable to afford as little opportunity as possible to tumult and disorder. This evil was not least to be dreaded in the election of a magistrate, who was to have so important an agency in the administration of the government as the President of the United States. But the precautions which have been so happily concerted in the system under consideration, promise an effectual security against this mischief. The choice of SEVERAL, to form an intermediate body of electors, will be much less apt to convulse the community with any extraordinary or violent movements, than the choice of ONE who was himself to be the final object of the public wishes. And as the electors, chosen in each State, are to assemble and vote in the State in which they are chosen, this detached and divided situation will expose them much less to heats and ferments, which might be communicated from them to the people, than if they were all to be convened at one time, in one place. Nothing was more to be desired than that every practicable obstacle should be opposed to cabal, intrigue, and corruption. These most deadly adversaries of republican government might naturally have been expected to make their approaches from more than one quarter, but chiefly from the desire in foreign powers to gain an improper ascendant in our councils. How could they better gratify this, than by raising a creature of their own to the chief magistracy of the Union? But the convention have guarded against all danger of this sort, with the most provident and judicious attention. They have not made the appointment of the President to depend on any preexisting bodies of men, who might be tampered with beforehand to prostitute their votes; but they have referred it in the first instance to an immediate act of the people of America, to be exerted in the choice of persons for the temporary and sole purpose of making the appointment. And they have excluded from eligibility to this trust, all those who from situation might be suspected of too great devotion to the President in office. No senator, representative, or other person holding a place of trust or profit under the United States, can be of the numbers of the electors. Thus without corrupting the body of the people, the immediate agents in the election will at least enter upon the task free from any sinister bias. Their transient existence, and their detached situation, already taken notice of, afford a satisfactory prospect of their continuing so, to the conclusion of it. The business of corruption, when it is to embrace so considerable a number of men, requires time as well as means. Nor would it be found easy suddenly to embark them, dispersed as they would be over thirteen States, in any combinations founded upon motives, which though they could not properly be denominated corrupt, might yet be of a nature to mislead them from their duty. Another and no less important desideratum was, that the Executive should be independent for his continuance in office on all but the people themselves. He might otherwise be tempted to sacrifice his duty to his complaisance for those whose favor was necessary to the duration of his official consequence. This advantage will also be secured, by making his reelection to depend on a special body of representatives, deputed by the society for the single purpose of making the important choice. All these advantages will happily combine in the plan devised by the convention; which is, that the people of each State shall choose a number of persons as electors, equal to the number of senators and representatives of such State in the national government, who shall assemble within the State, and vote for some fit person as President. Their votes, thus given, are to be transmitted to the seat of the national government, and the person who may happen to have a majority of the whole number of votes will be the President. But as a majority of the votes might not always happen to centre in one man, and as it might be unsafe to permit less than a majority to be conclusive, it is provided that, in such a contingency, the House of Representatives shall select out of the candidates who shall have the five highest number of votes, the man who in their opinion may be best qualified for the office. The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole Union, or of so considerable a portion of it as would be necessary to make him a successful candidate for the distinguished office of President of the United States. It will not be too strong to say, that there will be a constant probability of seeing the station filled by characters preeminent for ability and virtue. And this will be thought no inconsiderable recommendation of the Constitution, by those who are able to estimate the share which the executive in every government must necessarily have in its good or ill administration. Though we cannot acquiesce in the political heresy of the poet who says: \"For forms of government let fools contestThat which is best administered is best,\"yet we may safely pronounce, that the true test of a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good administration. The VicePresident is to be chosen in the same manner with the President; with this difference, that the Senate is to do, in respect to the former, what is to be done by the House of Representatives, in respect to the latter. The appointment of an extraordinary person, as VicePresident, has been objected to as superfluous, if not mischievous. It has been alleged, that it would have been preferable to have authorized the Senate to elect out of their own body an officer answering that description. But two considerations seem to justify the ideas of the convention in this respect. One is, that to secure at all times the possibility of a definite resolution of the body, it is necessary that the President should have only a casting vote. And to take the senator of any State from his seat as senator, to place him in that of President of the Senate, would be to exchange, in regard to the State from which he came, a constant for a contingent vote. The other consideration is, that as the VicePresident may occasionally become a substitute for the President, in the supreme executive magistracy, all the reasons which recommend the mode of election prescribed for the one, apply with great if not with equal force to the manner of appointing the other. It is remarkable that in this, as in most other instances, the objection which is made would lie against the constitution of this State. We have a LieutenantGovernor, chosen by the people at large, who presides in the Senate, and is the constitutional substitute for the Governor, in casualties similar to those which would authorize the VicePresident to exercise the authorities and discharge the duties of the President. PUBLIUS 1. Vide federal farmer. E1. Some editions substitute \"desired\" for \"wished for\". FEDERALIST No. 69 The Real Character of the Executive From the New York Packet. Friday, March 14, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: I PROCEED now to trace the real characters of the proposed Executive, as they are marked out in the plan of the convention. This will serve to place in a strong light the unfairness of the representations which have been made in regard to it. The first thing which strikes our attention is, that the executive authority, with few exceptions, is to be vested in a single magistrate. This will scarcely, however, be considered as a point upon which any comparison can be grounded; for if, in this particular, there be a resemblance to the king of Great Britain, there is not less a resemblance to the Grand Seignior, to the khan of Tartary, to the Man of the Seven Mountains, or to the governor of New York. That magistrate is to be elected for four years; and is to be reeligible as often as the people of the United States shall think him worthy of their confidence. In these circumstances there is a total dissimilitude between him and a king of Great Britain, who is an hereditary monarch, possessing the crown as a patrimony descendible to his heirs forever; but there is a close analogy between him and a governor of New York, who is elected for three years, and is reeligible without limitation or intermission. If we consider how much less time would be requisite for establishing a dangerous influence in a single State, than for establishing a like influence throughout the United States, we must conclude that a duration of four years for the Chief Magistrate of the Union is a degree of permanency far less to be dreaded in that office, than a duration of three years for a corresponding office in a single State. The President of the United States would be liable to be impeached, tried, and, upon conviction of treason, bribery, or other high crimes or misdemeanors, removed from office; and would afterwards be liable to prosecution and punishment in the ordinary course of law. The person of the king of Great Britain is sacred and inviolable; there is no constitutional tribunal to which he is amenable; no punishment to which he can be subjected without involving the crisis of a national revolution. In this delicate and important circumstance of personal responsibility, the President of Confederated America would stand upon no better ground than a governor of New York, and upon worse ground than the governors of Maryland and Delaware. The President of the United States is to have power to return a bill, which shall have passed the two branches of the legislature, for reconsideration; and the bill so returned is to become a law, if, upon that reconsideration, it be approved by two thirds of both houses. The king of Great Britain, on his part, has an absolute negative upon the acts of the two houses of Parliament. The disuse of that power for a considerable time past does not affect the reality of its existence; and is to be ascribed wholly to the crown's having found the means of substituting influence to authority, or the art of gaining a majority in one or the other of the two houses, to the necessity of exerting a prerogative which could seldom be exerted without hazarding some degree of national agitation. The qualified negative of the President differs widely from this absolute negative of the British sovereign; and tallies exactly with the revisionary authority of the council of revision of this State, of which the governor is a constituent part. In this respect the power of the President would exceed that of the governor of New York, because the former would possess, singly, what the latter shares with the chancellor and judges; but it would be precisely the same with that of the governor of Massachusetts, whose constitution, as to this article, seems to have been the original from which the convention have copied. The President is to be the \"commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States, and of the militia of the several States, when called into the actual service of the United States. He is to have power to grant reprieves and pardons for offenses against the United States, except in cases of impeachment; to recommend to the consideration of Congress such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; to convene, on extraordinary occasions, both houses of the legislature, or either of them, and, in case of disagreement between them with respect to the time of adjournment, to adjourn them to such time as he shall think proper; to take care that the laws be faithfully executed; and to commission all officers of the United States.\" In most of these particulars, the power of the President will resemble equally that of the king of Great Britain and of the governor of New York. The most material points of difference are these:First. The President will have only the occasional command of such part of the militia of the nation as by legislative provision may be called into the actual service of the Union. The king of Great Britain and the governor of New York have at all times the entire command of all the militia within their several jurisdictions. In this article, therefore, the power of the President would be inferior to that of either the monarch or the governor. Second. The President is to be commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States. In this respect his authority would be nominally the same with that of the king of Great Britain, but in substance much inferior to it. It would amount to nothing more than the supreme command and direction of the military and naval forces, as first General and admiral of the Confederacy; while that of the British king extends to the declaring of war and to the raising and regulating of fleets and armiesall which, by the Constitution under consideration, would appertain to the legislature.(1) The governor of New York, on the other hand, is by the constitution of the State vested only with the command of its militia and navy. But the constitutions of several of the States expressly declare their governors to be commandersinchief, as well of the army as navy; and it may well be a question, whether those of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, in particular, do not, in this instance, confer larger powers upon their respective governors, than could be claimed by a President of the United States. Third. The power of the President, in respect to pardons, would extend to all cases, except those of impeachment. The governor of New York may pardon in all cases, even in those of impeachment, except for treason and murder. Is not the power of the governor, in this article, on a calculation of political consequences, greater than that of the President? All conspiracies and plots against the government, which have not been matured into actual treason, may be screened from punishment of every kind, by the interposition of the prerogative of pardoning. If a governor of New York, therefore, should be at the head of any such conspiracy, until the design had been ripened into actual hostility he could insure his accomplices and adherents an entire impunity. A President of the Union, on the other hand, though he may even pardon treason, when prosecuted in the ordinary course of law, could shelter no offender, in any degree, from the effects of impeachment and conviction. Would not the prospect of a total indemnity for all the preliminary steps be a greater temptation to undertake and persevere in an enterprise against the public liberty, than the mere prospect of an exemption from death and confiscation, if the final execution of the design, upon an actual appeal to arms, should miscarry? Would this last expectation have any influence at all, when the probability was computed, that the person who was to afford that exemption might himself be involved in the consequences of the measure, and might be incapacitated by his agency in it from affording the desired impunity? The better to judge of this matter, it will be necessary to recollect, that, by the proposed Constitution, the offense of treason is limited \"to levying war upon the United States, and adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort\"; and that by the laws of New York it is confined within similar bounds. Fourth. The President can only adjourn the national legislature in the single case of disagreement about the time of adjournment. The British monarch may prorogue or even dissolve the Parliament. The governor of New York may also prorogue the legislature of this State for a limited time; a power which, in certain situations, may be employed to very important purposes. The President is to have power, with the advice and consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the senators present concur. The king of Great Britain is the sole and absolute representative of the nation in all foreign transactions. He can of his own accord make treaties of peace, commerce, alliance, and of every other description. It has been insinuated, that his authority in this respect is not conclusive, and that his conventions with foreign powers are subject to the revision, and stand in need of the ratification, of Parliament. But I believe this doctrine was never heard of, until it was broached upon the present occasion. Every jurist(2) of that kingdom, and every other man acquainted with its Constitution, knows, as an established fact, that the prerogative of making treaties exists in the crown in its utmost plentitude; and that the compacts entered into by the royal authority have the most complete legal validity and perfection, independent of any other sanction. The Parliament, it is true, is sometimes seen employing itself in altering the existing laws to conform them to the stipulations in a new treaty; and this may have possibly given birth to the imagination, that its cooperation was necessary to the obligatory efficacy of the treaty. But this parliamentary interposition proceeds from a different cause: from the necessity of adjusting a most artificial and intricate system of revenue and commercial laws, to the changes made in them by the operation of the treaty; and of adapting new provisions and precautions to the new state of things, to keep the machine from running into disorder. In this respect, therefore, there is no comparison between the intended power of the President and the actual power of the British sovereign. The one can perform alone what the other can do only with the concurrence of a branch of the legislature. It must be admitted, that, in this instance, the power of the federal Executive would exceed that of any State Executive. But this arises naturally from the sovereign power which relates to treaties. If the Confederacy were to be dissolved, it would become a question, whether the Executives of the several States were not solely invested with that delicate and important prerogative. The President is also to be authorized to receive ambassadors and other public ministers. This, though it has been a rich theme of declamation, is more a matter of dignity than of authority. It is a circumstance which will be without consequence in the administration of the government; and it was far more convenient that it should be arranged in this manner, than that there should be a necessity of convening the legislature, or one of its branches, upon every arrival of a foreign minister, though it were merely to take the place of a departed predecessor. The President is to nominate, and, with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors and other public ministers, judges of the Supreme Court, and in general all officers of the United States established by law, and whose appointments are not otherwise provided for by the Constitution. The king of Great Britain is emphatically and truly styled the fountain of honor. He not only appoints to all offices, but can create offices. He can confer titles of nobility at pleasure; and has the disposal of an immense number of church preferments. There is evidently a great inferiority in the power of the President, in this particular, to that of the British king; nor is it equal to that of the governor of New York, if we are to interpret the meaning of the constitution of the State by the practice which has obtained under it. The power of appointment is with us lodged in a council, composed of the governor and four members of the Senate, chosen by the Assembly. The governor claims, and has frequently exercised, the right of nomination, and is entitled to a casting vote in the appointment. If he really has the right of nominating, his authority is in this respect equal to that of the President, and exceeds it in the article of the casting vote. In the national government, if the Senate should be divided, no appointment could be made; in the government of New York, if the council should be divided, the governor can turn the scale, and confirm his own nomination.(3) If we compare the publicity which must necessarily attend the mode of appointment by the President and an entire branch of the national legislature, with the privacy in the mode of appointment by the governor of New York, closeted in a secret apartment with at most four, and frequently with only two persons; and if we at the same time consider how much more easy it must be to influence the small number of which a council of appointment consists, than the considerable number of which the national Senate would consist, we cannot hesitate to pronounce that the power of the chief magistrate of this State, in the disposition of offices, must, in practice, be greatly superior to that of the Chief Magistrate of the Union. Hence it appears that, except as to the concurrent authority of the President in the article of treaties, it would be difficult to determine whether that magistrate would, in the aggregate, possess more or less power than the Governor of New York. And it appears yet more unequivocally, that there is no pretense for the parallel which has been attempted between him and the king of Great Britain. But to render the contrast in this respect still more striking, it may be of use to throw the principal circumstances of dissimilitude into a closer group. The President of the United States would be an officer elected by the people for four years; the king of Great Britain is a perpetual and hereditary prince. The one would be amenable to personal punishment and disgrace; the person of the other is sacred and inviolable. The one would have a qualified negative upon the acts of the legislative body; the other has an absolute negative. The one would have a right to command the military and naval forces of the nation; the other, in addition to this right, possesses that of declaring war, and of raising and regulating fleets and armies by his own authority. The one would have a concurrent power with a branch of the legislature in the formation of treaties; the other is the sole possessor of the power of making treaties. The one would have a like concurrent authority in appointing to offices; the other is the sole author of all appointments. The one can confer no privileges whatever; the other can make denizens of aliens, noblemen of commoners; can erect corporations with all the rights incident to corporate bodies. The one can prescribe no rules concerning the commerce or currency of the nation; the other is in several respects the arbiter of commerce, and in this capacity can establish markets and fairs, can regulate weights and measures, can lay embargoes for a limited time, can coin money, can authorize or prohibit the circulation of foreign coin. The one has no particle of spiritual jurisdiction; the other is the supreme head and governor of the national church! What answer shall we give to those who would persuade us that things so unlike resemble each other? The same that ought to be given to those who tell us that a government, the whole power of which would be in the hands of the elective and periodical servants of the people, is an aristocracy, a monarchy, and a despotism. PUBLIUS 1. A writer in a Pennsylvania paper, under the signature of TAMONY, has asserted that the king of Great Britain owes his prerogative as commanderinchief to an annual mutiny bill. The truth is, on the contrary, that his prerogative, in this respect, is immemorial, and was only disputed, \"contrary to all reason and precedent,\" as Blackstone vol. i., page 262, expresses it, by the Long Parliament of Charles I. but by the statute the 13th of Charles II., chap. 6, it was declared to be in the king alone, for that the sole supreme government and command of the militia within his Majesty's realms and dominions, and of all forces by sea and land, and of all forts and places of strength, EVER WAS AND IS the undoubted right of his Majesty and his royal predecessors, kings and queens of England, and that both or either house of Parliament cannot nor ought to pretend to the same. 2. Vide Blackstone's Commentaries, Vol I., p. 257. 3. Candor, however, demands an acknowledgment that I do not think the claim of the governor to a right of nomination well founded. Yet it is always justifiable to reason from the practice of a government, till its propriety has been constitutionally questioned. And independent of this claim, when we take into view the other considerations, and pursue them through all their consequences, we shall be inclined to draw much the same conclusion. FEDERALIST No. 70 The Executive Department Further Considered From The Independent Journal. Saturday, March 15, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THERE is an idea, which is not without its advocates, that a vigorous Executive is inconsistent with the genius of republican government. The enlightened wellwishers to this species of government must at least hope that the supposition is destitute of foundation; since they can never admit its truth, without at the same time admitting the condemnation of their own principles. Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of good government. It is essential to the protection of the community against foreign attacks; it is not less essential to the steady administration of the laws; to the protection of property against those irregular and highhanded combinations which sometimes interrupt the ordinary course of justice; to the security of liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of faction, and of anarchy. Every man the least conversant in Roman history, knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of Dictator, as well against the intrigues of ambitious individuals who aspired to the tyranny, and the seditions of whole classes of the community whose conduct threatened the existence of all government, as against the invasions of external enemies who menaced the conquest and destruction of Rome. There can be no need, however, to multiply arguments or examples on this head. A feeble Executive implies a feeble execution of the government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad execution; and a government ill executed, whatever it may be in theory, must be, in practice, a bad government. Taking it for granted, therefore, that all men of sense will agree in the necessity of an energetic Executive, it will only remain to inquire, what are the ingredients which constitute this energy? How far can they be combined with those other ingredients which constitute safety in the republican sense? And how far does this combination characterize the plan which has been reported by the convention? The ingredients which constitute energy in the Executive are, first, unity; secondly, duration; thirdly, an adequate provision for its support; fourthly, competent powers. The ingredients which constitute safety in the republican sense are, first, a due dependence on the people, secondly, a due responsibility. Those politicians and statesmen who have been the most celebrated for the soundness of their principles and for the justice of their views, have declared in favor of a single Executive and a numerous legislature. They have with great propriety, considered energy as the most necessary qualification of the former, and have regarded this as most applicable to power in a single hand, while they have, with equal propriety, considered the latter as best adapted to deliberation and wisdom, and best calculated to conciliate the confidence of the people and to secure their privileges and interests. That unity is conducive to energy will not be disputed. Decision, activity, secrecy, and despatch will generally characterize the proceedings of one man in a much more eminent degree than the proceedings of any greater number; and in proportion as the number is increased, these qualities will be diminished. This unity may be destroyed in two ways: either by vesting the power in two or more magistrates of equal dignity and authority; or by vesting it ostensibly in one man, subject, in whole or in part, to the control and cooperation of others, in the capacity of counsellors to him. Of the first, the two Consuls of Rome may serve as an example; of the last, we shall find examples in the constitutions of several of the States. New York and New Jersey, if I recollect right, are the only States which have intrusted the executive authority wholly to single men.(1) Both these methods of destroying the unity of the Executive have their partisans; but the votaries of an executive council are the most numerous. They are both liable, if not to equal, to similar objections, and may in most lights be examined in conjunction. The experience of other nations will afford little instruction on this head. As far, however, as it teaches any thing, it teaches us not to be enamoured of plurality in the Executive. We have seen that the Achaeans, on an experiment of two Praetors, were induced to abolish one. The Roman history records many instances of mischiefs to the republic from the dissensions between the Consuls, and between the military Tribunes, who were at times substituted for the Consuls. But it gives us no specimens of any peculiar advantages derived to the state from the circumstance of the plurality of those magistrates. That the dissensions between them were not more frequent or more fatal, is a matter of astonishment, until we advert to the singular position in which the republic was almost continually placed, and to the prudent policy pointed out by the circumstances of the state, and pursued by the Consuls, of making a division of the government between them. The patricians engaged in a perpetual struggle with the plebeians for the preservation of their ancient authorities and dignities; the Consuls, who were generally chosen out of the former body, were commonly united by the personal interest they had in the defense of the privileges of their order. In addition to this motive of union, after the arms of the republic had considerably expanded the bounds of its empire, it became an established custom with the Consuls to divide the administration between themselves by lotone of them remaining at Rome to govern the city and its environs, the other taking the command in the more distant provinces. This expedient must, no doubt, have had great influence in preventing those collisions and rivalships which might otherwise have embroiled the peace of the republic. But quitting the dim light of historical research, attaching ourselves purely to the dictates of reason and good sense, we shall discover much greater cause to reject than to approve the idea of plurality in the Executive, under any modification whatever. Wherever two or more persons are engaged in any common enterprise or pursuit, there is always danger of difference of opinion. If it be a public trust or office, in which they are clothed with equal dignity and authority, there is peculiar danger of personal emulation and even animosity. From either, and especially from all these causes, the most bitter dissensions are apt to spring. Whenever these happen, they lessen the respectability, weaken the authority, and distract the plans and operation of those whom they divide. If they should unfortunately assail the supreme executive magistracy of a country, consisting of a plurality of persons, they might impede or frustrate the most important measures of the government, in the most critical emergencies of the state. And what is still worse, they might split the community into the most violent and irreconcilable factions, adhering differently to the different individuals who composed the magistracy. Men often oppose a thing, merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike. But if they have been consulted, and have happened to disapprove, opposition then becomes, in their estimation, an indispensable duty of selflove. They seem to think themselves bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their sentiments. Men of upright, benevolent tempers have too many opportunities of remarking, with horror, to what desperate lengths this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, and to the obstinacy of individuals, who have credit enough to make their passions and their caprices interesting to mankind. Perhaps the question now before the public may, in its consequences, afford melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or rather detestable vice, in the human character. Upon the principles of a free government, inconveniences from the source just mentioned must necessarily be submitted to in the formation of the legislature; but it is unnecessary, and therefore unwise, to introduce them into the constitution of the Executive. It is here too that they may be most pernicious. In the legislature, promptitude of decision is oftener an evil than a benefit. The differences of opinion, and the jarrings of parties in that department of the government, though they may sometimes obstruct salutary plans, yet often promote deliberation and circumspection, and serve to check excesses in the majority. When a resolution too is once taken, the opposition must be at an end. That resolution is a law, and resistance to it punishable. But no favorable circumstances palliate or atone for the disadvantages of dissension in the executive department. Here, they are pure and unmixed. There is no point at which they cease to operate. They serve to embarrass and weaken the execution of the plan or measure to which they relate, from the first step to the final conclusion of it. They constantly counteract those qualities in the Executive which are the most necessary ingredients in its compositionvigor and expedition, and this without any counterbalancing good. In the conduct of war, in which the energy of the Executive is the bulwark of the national security, every thing would be to be apprehended from its plurality. It must be confessed that these observations apply with principal weight to the first case supposedthat is, to a plurality of magistrates of equal dignity and authority a scheme, the advocates for which are not likely to form a numerous sect; but they apply, though not with equal, yet with considerable weight to the project of a council, whose concurrence is made constitutionally necessary to the operations of the ostensible Executive. An artful cabal in that council would be able to distract and to enervate the whole system of administration. If no such cabal should exist, the mere diversity of views and opinions would alone be sufficient to tincture the exercise of the executive authority with a spirit of habitual feebleness and dilatoriness. (But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. Responsibility is of two kindsto censure and to punishment. The first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable.)(E1) (But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. Responsibility is of two kindsto censure and to punishment. The first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable.)(E1) \"I was overruled by my council. The council were so divided in their opinions that it was impossible to obtain any better resolution on the point.\" These and similar pretexts are constantly at hand, whether true or false. And who is there that will either take the trouble or incur the odium, of a strict scrutiny into the secret springs of the transaction? Should there be found a citizen zealous enough to undertake the unpromising task, if there happen to be collusion between the parties concerned, how easy it is to clothe the circumstances with so much ambiguity, as to render it uncertain what was the precise conduct of any of those parties? In the single instance in which the governor of this State is coupled with a councilthat is, in the appointment to offices, we have seen the mischiefs of it in the view now under consideration. Scandalous appointments to important offices have been made. Some cases, indeed, have been so flagrant that ALL PARTIES have agreed in the impropriety of the thing. When inquiry has been made, the blame has been laid by the governor on the members of the council, who, on their part, have charged it upon his nomination; while the people remain altogether at a loss to determine, by whose influence their interests have been committed to hands so unqualified and so manifestly improper. In tenderness to individuals, I forbear to descend to particulars. It is evident from these considerations, that the plurality of the Executive tends to deprive the people of the two greatest securities they can have for the faithful exercise of any delegated power, first, the restraints of public opinion, which lose their efficacy, as well on account of the division of the censure attendant on bad measures among a number, as on account of the uncertainty on whom it ought to fall; and, second, the opportunity of discovering with facility and clearness the misconduct of the persons they trust, in order either to their removal from office or to their actual punishment in cases which admit of it. In England, the king is a perpetual magistrate; and it is a maxim which has obtained for the sake of the public peace, that he is unaccountable for his administration, and his person sacred. Nothing, therefore, can be wiser in that kingdom, than to annex to the king a constitutional council, who may be responsible to the nation for the advice they give. Without this, there would be no responsibility whatever in the executive department an idea inadmissible in a free government. But even there the king is not bound by the resolutions of his council, though they are answerable for the advice they give. He is the absolute master of his own conduct in the exercise of his office, and may observe or disregard the counsel given to him at his sole discretion. But in a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally responsible for his behavior in office the reason which in the British Constitution dictates the propriety of a council, not only ceases to apply, but turns against the institution. In the monarchy of Great Britain, it furnishes a substitute for the prohibited responsibility of the chief magistrate, which serves in some degree as a hostage to the national justice for his good behavior. In the American republic, it would serve to destroy, or would greatly diminish, the intended and necessary responsibility of the Chief Magistrate himself. The idea of a council to the Executive, which has so generally obtained in the State constitutions, has been derived from that maxim of republican jealousy which considers power as safer in the hands of a number of men than of a single man. If the maxim should be admitted to be applicable to the case, I should contend that the advantage on that side would not counterbalance the numerous disadvantages on the opposite side. But I do not think the rule at all applicable to the executive power. I clearly concur in opinion, in this particular, with a writer whom the celebrated Junius pronounces to be \"deep, solid, and ingenious,\" that \"the executive power is more easily confined when it is ONE\";(2) that it is far more safe there should be a single object for the jealousy and watchfulness of the people; and, in a word, that all multiplication of the Executive is rather dangerous than friendly to liberty. A little consideration will satisfy us, that the species of security sought for in the multiplication of the Executive, is unattainable. Numbers must be so great as to render combination difficult, or they are rather a source of danger than of security. The united credit and influence of several individuals must be more formidable to liberty, than the credit and influence of either of them separately. When power, therefore, is placed in the hands of so small a number of men, as to admit of their interests and views being easily combined in a common enterprise, by an artful leader, it becomes more liable to abuse, and more dangerous when abused, than if it be lodged in the hands of one man; who, from the very circumstance of his being alone, will be more narrowly watched and more readily suspected, and who cannot unite so great a mass of influence as when he is associated with others. The Decemvirs of Rome, whose name denotes their number,(3) were more to be dreaded in their usurpation than any ONE of them would have been. No person would think of proposing an Executive much more numerous than that body; from six to a dozen have been suggested for the number of the council. The extreme of these numbers, is not too great for an easy combination; and from such a combination America would have more to fear, than from the ambition of any single individual. A council to a magistrate, who is himself responsible for what he does, are generally nothing better than a clog upon his good intentions, are often the instruments and accomplices of his bad and are almost always a cloak to his faults. I forbear to dwell upon the subject of expense; though it be evident that if the council should be numerous enough to answer the principal end aimed at by the institution, the salaries of the members, who must be drawn from their homes to reside at the seat of government, would form an item in the catalogue of public expenditures too serious to be incurred for an object of equivocal utility. I will only add that, prior to the appearance of the Constitution, I rarely met with an intelligent man from any of the States, who did not admit, as the result of experience, that the UNITY of the executive of this State was one of the best of the distinguishing features of our constitution. PUBLIUS 1. New York has no council except for the single purpose of appointing to offices; New Jersey has a council whom the governor may consult. But I think, from the terms of the constitution, their resolutions do not bind him. 2. De Lolme. 3. Ten. E1. Two versions of these paragraphs appear in different editions. FEDERALIST No. 71 The Duration in Office of the Executive From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 18, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: DURATION in office has been mentioned as the second requisite to the energy of the Executive authority. This has relation to two objects: to the personal firmness of the executive magistrate, in the employment of his constitutional powers; and to the stability of the system of administration which may have been adopted under his auspices. With regard to the first, it must be evident, that the longer the duration in office, the greater will be the probability of obtaining so important an advantage. It is a general principle of human nature, that a man will be interested in whatever he possesses, in proportion to the firmness or precariousness of the tenure by which he holds it; will be less attached to what he holds by a momentary or uncertain title, than to what he enjoys by a durable or certain title; and, of course, will be willing to risk more for the sake of the one, than for the sake of the other. This remark is not less applicable to a political privilege, or honor, or trust, than to any article of ordinary property. The inference from it is, that a man acting in the capacity of chief magistrate, under a consciousness that in a very short time he MUST lay down his office, will be apt to feel himself too little interested in it to hazard any material censure or perplexity, from the independent exertion of his powers, or from encountering the illhumors, however transient, which may happen to prevail, either in a considerable part of the society itself, or even in a predominant faction in the legislative body. If the case should only be, that he MIGHT lay it down, unless continued by a new choice, and if he should be desirous of being continued, his wishes, conspiring with his fears, would tend still more powerfully to corrupt his integrity, or debase his fortitude. In either case, feebleness and irresolution must be the characteristics of the station. There are some who would be inclined to regard the servile pliancy of the Executive to a prevailing current, either in the community or in the legislature, as its best recommendation. But such men entertain very crude notions, as well of the purposes for which government was instituted, as of the true means by which the public happiness may be promoted. The republican principle demands that the deliberate sense of the community should govern the conduct of those to whom they intrust the management of their affairs; but it does not require an unqualified complaisance to every sudden breeze of passion, or to every transient impulse which the people may receive from the arts of men, who flatter their prejudices to betray their interests. It is a just observation, that the people commonly INTEND the PUBLIC GOOD. This often applies to their very errors. But their good sense would despise the adulator who should pretend that they always REASON RIGHT about the MEANS of promoting it. They know from experience that they sometimes err; and the wonder is that they so seldom err as they do, beset, as they continually are, by the wiles of parasites and sycophants, by the snares of the ambitious, the avaricious, the desperate, by the artifices of men who possess their confidence more than they deserve it, and of those who seek to possess rather than to deserve it. When occasions present themselves, in which the interests of the people are at variance with their inclinations, it is the duty of the persons whom they have appointed to be the guardians of those interests, to withstand the temporary delusion, in order to give them time and opportunity for more cool and sedate reflection. Instances might be cited in which a conduct of this kind has saved the people from very fatal consequences of their own mistakes, and has procured lasting monuments of their gratitude to the men who had courage and magnanimity enough to serve them at the peril of their displeasure. But however inclined we might be to insist upon an unbounded complaisance in the Executive to the inclinations of the people, we can with no propriety contend for a like complaisance to the humors of the legislature. The latter may sometimes stand in opposition to the former, and at other times the people may be entirely neutral. In either supposition, it is certainly desirable that the Executive should be in a situation to dare to act his own opinion with vigor and decision. The same rule which teaches the propriety of a partition between the various branches of power, teaches us likewise that this partition ought to be so contrived as to render the one independent of the other. To what purpose separate the executive or the judiciary from the legislative, if both the executive and the judiciary are so constituted as to be at the absolute devotion of the legislative? Such a separation must be merely nominal, and incapable of producing the ends for which it was established. It is one thing to be subordinate to the laws, and another to be dependent on the legislative body. The first comports with, the last violates, the fundamental principles of good government; and, whatever may be the forms of the Constitution, unites all power in the same hands. The tendency of the legislative authority to absorb every other, has been fully displayed and illustrated by examples in some preceding numbers. In governments purely republican, this tendency is almost irresistible. The representatives of the people, in a popular assembly, seem sometimes to fancy that they are the people themselves, and betray strong symptoms of impatience and disgust at the least sign of opposition from any other quarter; as if the exercise of its rights, by either the executive or judiciary, were a breach of their privilege and an outrage to their dignity. They often appear disposed to exert an imperious control over the other departments; and as they commonly have the people on their side, they always act with such momentum as to make it very difficult for the other members of the government to maintain the balance of the Constitution. It may perhaps be asked, how the shortness of the duration in office can affect the independence of the Executive on the legislature, unless the one were possessed of the power of appointing or displacing the other. One answer to this inquiry may be drawn from the principle already remarked that is, from the slender interest a man is apt to take in a shortlived advantage, and the little inducement it affords him to expose himself, on account of it, to any considerable inconvenience or hazard. Another answer, perhaps more obvious, though not more conclusive, will result from the consideration of the influence of the legislative body over the people; which might be employed to prevent the reelection of a man who, by an upright resistance to any sinister project of that body, should have made himself obnoxious to its resentment. It may be asked also, whether a duration of four years would answer the end proposed; and if it would not, whether a less period, which would at least be recommended by greater security against ambitious designs, would not, for that reason, be preferable to a longer period, which was, at the same time, too short for the purpose of inspiring the desired firmness and independence of the magistrate. It cannot be affirmed, that a duration of four years, or any other limited duration, would completely answer the end proposed; but it would contribute towards it in a degree which would have a material influence upon the spirit and character of the government. Between the commencement and termination of such a period, there would always be a considerable interval, in which the prospect of annihilation would be sufficiently remote, not to have an improper effect upon the conduct of a man indued with a tolerable portion of fortitude; and in which he might reasonably promise himself, that there would be time enough before it arrived, to make the community sensible of the propriety of the measures he might incline to pursue. Though it be probable that, as he approached the moment when the public were, by a new election, to signify their sense of his conduct, his confidence, and with it his firmness, would decline; yet both the one and the other would derive support from the opportunities which his previous continuance in the station had afforded him, of establishing himself in the esteem and goodwill of his constituents. He might, then, hazard with safety, in proportion to the proofs he had given of his wisdom and integrity, and to the title he had acquired to the respect and attachment of his fellowcitizens. As, on the one hand, a duration of four years will contribute to the firmness of the Executive in a sufficient degree to render it a very valuable ingredient in the composition; so, on the other, it is not enough to justify any alarm for the public liberty. If a British House of Commons, from the most feeble beginnings, FROM THE MERE POWER OF ASSENTING OR DISAGREEING TO THE IMPOSITION OF A NEW TAX, have, by rapid strides, reduced the prerogatives of the crown and the privileges of the nobility within the limits they conceived to be compatible with the principles of a free government, while they raised themselves to the rank and consequence of a coequal branch of the legislature; if they have been able, in one instance, to abolish both the royalty and the aristocracy, and to overturn all the ancient establishments, as well in the Church as State; if they have been able, on a recent occasion, to make the monarch tremble at the prospect of an innovation(1) attempted by them, what would be to be feared from an elective magistrate of four years' duration, with the confined authorities of a President of the United States? What, but that he might be unequal to the task which the Constitution assigns him? I shall only add, that if his duration be such as to leave a doubt of his firmness, that doubt is inconsistent with a jealousy of his encroachments. PUBLIUS 1. This was the case with respect to Mr. Fox's India bill, which was carried in the House of Commons, and rejected in the House of Lords, to the entire satisfaction, as it is said, of the people. FEDERALIST No. 72 The Same Subject Continued, and ReEligibility of the Executive Considered. From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, March 19, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE administration of government, in its largest sense, comprehends all the operations of the body politic, whether legislative, executive, or judiciary; but in its most usual, and perhaps its most precise signification. it is limited to executive details, and falls peculiarly within the province of the executive department. The actual conduct of foreign negotiations, the preparatory plans of finance, the application and disbursement of the public moneys in conformity to the general appropriations of the legislature, the arrangement of the army and navy, the directions of the operations of warthese, and other matters of a like nature, constitute what seems to be most properly understood by the administration of government. The persons, therefore, to whose immediate management these different matters are committed, ought to be considered as the assistants or deputies of the chief magistrate, and on this account, they ought to derive their offices from his appointment, at least from his nomination, and ought to be subject to his superintendence. This view of the subject will at once suggest to us the intimate connection between the duration of the executive magistrate in office and the stability of the system of administration. To reverse and undo what has been done by a predecessor, is very often considered by a successor as the best proof he can give of his own capacity and desert; and in addition to this propensity, where the alteration has been the result of public choice, the person substituted is warranted in supposing that the dismission of his predecessor has proceeded from a dislike to his measures; and that the less he resembles him, the more he will recommend himself to the favor of his constituents. These considerations, and the influence of personal confidences and attachments, would be likely to induce every new President to promote a change of men to fill the subordinate stations; and these causes together could not fail to occasion a disgraceful and ruinous mutability in the administration of the government. With a positive duration of considerable extent, I connect the circumstance of reeligibility. The first is necessary to give to the officer himself the inclination and the resolution to act his part well, and to the community time and leisure to observe the tendency of his measures, and thence to form an experimental estimate of their merits. The last is necessary to enable the people, when they see reason to approve of his conduct, to continue him in his station, in order to prolong the utility of his talents and virtues, and to secure to the government the advantage of permanency in a wise system of administration. Nothing appears more plausible at first sight, nor more illfounded upon close inspection, than a scheme which in relation to the present point has had some respectable advocatesI mean that of continuing the chief magistrate in office for a certain time, and then excluding him from it, either for a limited period or forever after. This exclusion, whether temporary or perpetual, would have nearly the same effects, and these effects would be for the most part rather pernicious than salutary. One ill effect of the exclusion would be a diminution of the inducements to good behavior. There are few men who would not feel much less zeal in the discharge of a duty when they were conscious that the advantages of the station with which it was connected must be relinquished at a determinate period, than when they were permitted to entertain a hope of obtaining, by meriting, a continuance of them. This position will not be disputed so long as it is admitted that the desire of reward is one of the strongest incentives of human conduct; or that the best security for the fidelity of mankind is to make their interests coincide with their duty. Even the love of fame, the ruling passion of the noblest minds, which would prompt a man to plan and undertake extensive and arduous enterprises for the public benefit, requiring considerable time to mature and perfect them, if he could flatter himself with the prospect of being allowed to finish what he had begun, would, on the contrary, deter him from the undertaking, when he foresaw that he must quit the scene before he could accomplish the work, and must commit that, together with his own reputation, to hands which might be unequal or unfriendly to the task. The most to be expected from the generality of men, in such a situation, is the negative merit of not doing harm, instead of the positive merit of doing good. Another ill effect of the exclusion would be the temptation to sordid views, to peculation, and, in some instances, to usurpation. An avaricious man, who might happen to fill the office, looking forward to a time when he must at all events yield up the emoluments he enjoyed, would feel a propensity, not easy to be resisted by such a man, to make the best use of the opportunity he enjoyed while it lasted, and might not scruple to have recourse to the most corrupt expedients to make the harvest as abundant as it was transitory; though the same man, probably, with a different prospect before him, might content himself with the regular perquisites of his situation, and might even be unwilling to risk the consequences of an abuse of his opportunities. His avarice might be a guard upon his avarice. Add to this that the same man might be vain or ambitious, as well as avaricious. And if he could expect to prolong his honors by his good conduct, he might hesitate to sacrifice his appetite for them to his appetite for gain. But with the prospect before him of approaching an inevitable annihilation, his avarice would be likely to get the victory over his caution, his vanity, or his ambition. An ambitious man, too, when he found himself seated on the summit of his country's honors, when he looked forward to the time at which he must descend from the exalted eminence for ever, and reflected that no exertion of merit on his part could save him from the unwelcome reverse; such a man, in such a situation, would be much more violently tempted to embrace a favorable conjuncture for attempting the prolongation of his power, at every personal hazard, than if he had the probability of answering the same end by doing his duty. Would it promote the peace of the community, or the stability of the government to have half a dozen men who had had credit enough to be raised to the seat of the supreme magistracy, wandering among the people like discontented ghosts, and sighing for a place which they were destined never more to possess? A third ill effect of the exclusion would be, the depriving the community of the advantage of the experience gained by the chief magistrate in the exercise of his office. That experience is the parent of wisdom, is an adage the truth of which is recognized by the wisest as well as the simplest of mankind. What more desirable or more essential than this quality in the governors of nations? Where more desirable or more essential than in the first magistrate of a nation? Can it be wise to put this desirable and essential quality under the ban of the Constitution, and to declare that the moment it is acquired, its possessor shall be compelled to abandon the station in which it was acquired, and to which it is adapted? This, nevertheless, is the precise import of all those regulations which exclude men from serving their country, by the choice of their fellowcitizens, after they have by a course of service fitted themselves for doing it with a greater degree of utility. A fourth ill effect of the exclusion would be the banishing men from stations in which, in certain emergencies of the state, their presence might be of the greatest moment to the public interest or safety. There is no nation which has not, at one period or another, experienced an absolute necessity of the services of particular men in particular situations; perhaps it would not be too strong to say, to the preservation of its political existence. How unwise, therefore, must be every such selfdenying ordinance as serves to prohibit a nation from making use of its own citizens in the manner best suited to its exigencies and circumstances! Without supposing the personal essentiality of the man, it is evident that a change of the chief magistrate, at the breaking out of a war, or at any similar crisis, for another, even of equal merit, would at all times be detrimental to the community, inasmuch as it would substitute inexperience to experience, and would tend to unhinge and set afloat the already settled train of the administration. A fifth ill effect of the exclusion would be, that it would operate as a constitutional interdiction of stability in the administration. By necessitating a change of men, in the first office of the nation, it would necessitate a mutability of measures. It is not generally to be expected, that men will vary and measures remain uniform. The contrary is the usual course of things. And we need not be apprehensive that there will be too much stability, while there is even the option of changing; nor need we desire to prohibit the people from continuing their confidence where they think it may be safely placed, and where, by constancy on their part, they may obviate the fatal inconveniences of fluctuating councils and a variable policy. These are some of the disadvantages which would flow from the principle of exclusion. They apply most forcibly to the scheme of a perpetual exclusion; but when we consider that even a partial exclusion would always render the readmission of the person a remote and precarious object, the observations which have been made will apply nearly as fully to one case as to the other. What are the advantages promised to counterbalance these disadvantages? They are represented to be: 1st, greater independence in the magistrate; 2d, greater security to the people. Unless the exclusion be perpetual, there will be no pretense to infer the first advantage. But even in that case, may he have no object beyond his present station, to which he may sacrifice his independence? May he have no connections, no friends, for whom he may sacrifice it? May he not be less willing by a firm conduct, to make personal enemies, when he acts under the impression that a time is fast approaching, on the arrival of which he not only MAY, but MUST, be exposed to their resentments, upon an equal, perhaps upon an inferior, footing? It is not an easy point to determine whether his independence would be most promoted or impaired by such an arrangement. As to the second supposed advantage, there is still greater reason to entertain doubts concerning it. If the exclusion were to be perpetual, a man of irregular ambition, of whom alone there could be reason in any case to entertain apprehension, would, with infinite reluctance, yield to the necessity of taking his leave forever of a post in which his passion for power and preeminence had acquired the force of habit. And if he had been fortunate or adroit enough to conciliate the goodwill of the people, he might induce them to consider as a very odious and unjustifiable restraint upon themselves, a provision which was calculated to debar them of the right of giving a fresh proof of their attachment to a favorite. There may be conceived circumstances in which this disgust of the people, seconding the thwarted ambition of such a favorite, might occasion greater danger to liberty, than could ever reasonably be dreaded from the possibility of a perpetuation in office, by the voluntary suffrages of the community, exercising a constitutional privilege. There is an excess of refinement in the idea of disabling the people to continue in office men who had entitled themselves, in their opinion, to approbation and confidence; the advantages of which are at best speculative and equivocal, and are overbalanced by disadvantages far more certain and decisive. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 73 The Provision For The Support of the Executive, and the Veto Power From the New York Packet. Friday, March 21, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE third ingredient towards constituting the vigor of the executive authority, is an adequate provision for its support. It is evident that, without proper attention to this article, the separation of the executive from the legislative department would be merely nominal and nugatory. The legislature, with a discretionary power over the salary and emoluments of the Chief Magistrate, could render him as obsequious to their will as they might think proper to make him. They might, in most cases, either reduce him by famine, or tempt him by largesses, to surrender at discretion his judgment to their inclinations. These expressions, taken in all the latitude of the terms, would no doubt convey more than is intended. There are men who could neither be distressed nor won into a sacrifice of their duty; but this stern virtue is the growth of few soils; and in the main it will be found that a power over a man's support is a power over his will. If it were necessary to confirm so plain a truth by facts, examples would not be wanting, even in this country, of the intimidation or seduction of the Executive by the terrors or allurements of the pecuniary arrangements of the legislative body. It is not easy, therefore, to commend too highly the judicious attention which has been paid to this subject in the proposed Constitution. It is there provided that \"The President of the United States shall, at stated times, receive for his services a compensation which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the period for which he shall have been elected; and he shall not receive within that period any other emolument from the United States, or any of them.\" It is impossible to imagine any provision which would have been more eligible than this. The legislature, on the appointment of a President, is once for all to declare what shall be the compensation for his services during the time for which he shall have been elected. This done, they will have no power to alter it, either by increase or diminution, till a new period of service by a new election commences. They can neither weaken his fortitude by operating on his necessities, nor corrupt his integrity by appealing to his avarice. Neither the Union, nor any of its members, will be at liberty to give, nor will he be at liberty to receive, any other emolument than that which may have been determined by the first act. He can, of course, have no pecuniary inducement to renounce or desert the independence intended for him by the Constitution. The last of the requisites to energy, which have been enumerated, are competent powers. Let us proceed to consider those which are proposed to be vested in the President of the United States. The first thing that offers itself to our observation, is the qualified negative of the President upon the acts or resolutions of the two houses of the legislature; or, in other words, his power of returning all bills with objections, to have the effect of preventing their becoming laws, unless they should afterwards be ratified by two thirds of each of the component members of the legislative body. The propensity of the legislative department to intrude upon the rights, and to absorb the powers, of the other departments, has been already suggested and repeated; the insufficiency of a mere parchment delineation of the boundaries of each, has also been remarked upon; and the necessity of furnishing each with constitutional arms for its own defense, has been inferred and proved. From these clear and indubitable principles results the propriety of a negative, either absolute or qualified, in the Executive, upon the acts of the legislative branches. Without the one or the other, the former would be absolutely unable to defend himself against the depredations of the latter. He might gradually be stripped of his authorities by successive resolutions, or annihilated by a single vote. And in the one mode or the other, the legislative and executive powers might speedily come to be blended in the same hands. If even no propensity had ever discovered itself in the legislative body to invade the rights of the Executive, the rules of just reasoning and theoretic propriety would of themselves teach us, that the one ought not to be left to the mercy of the other, but ought to possess a constitutional and effectual power of selfdefense. But the power in question has a further use. It not only serves as a shield to the Executive, but it furnishes an additional security against the enaction of improper laws. It establishes a salutary check upon the legislative body, calculated to guard the community against the effects of faction, precipitancy, or of any impulse unfriendly to the public good, which may happen to influence a majority of that body. The propriety of a negative has, upon some occasions, been combated by an observation, that it was not to be presumed a single man would possess more virtue and wisdom than a number of men; and that unless this presumption should be entertained, it would be improper to give the executive magistrate any species of control over the legislative body. But this observation, when examined, will appear rather specious than solid. The propriety of the thing does not turn upon the supposition of superior wisdom or virtue in the Executive, but upon the supposition that the legislature will not be infallible; that the love of power may sometimes betray it into a disposition to encroach upon the rights of other members of the government; that a spirit of faction may sometimes pervert its deliberations; that impressions of the moment may sometimes hurry it into measures which itself, on maturer reflexion, would condemn. The primary inducement to conferring the power in question upon the Executive is, to enable him to defend himself; the secondary one is to increase the chances in favor of the community against the passing of bad laws, through haste, inadvertence, or design. The oftener the measure is brought under examination, the greater the diversity in the situations of those who are to examine it, the less must be the danger of those errors which flow from want of due deliberation, or of those missteps which proceed from the contagion of some common passion or interest. It is far less probable, that culpable views of any kind should infect all the parts of the government at the same moment and in relation to the same object, than that they should by turns govern and mislead every one of them. It may perhaps be said that the power of preventing bad laws includes that of preventing good ones; and may be used to the one purpose as well as to the other. But this objection will have little weight with those who can properly estimate the mischiefs of that inconstancy and mutability in the laws, which form the greatest blemish in the character and genius of our governments. They will consider every institution calculated to restrain the excess of lawmaking, and to keep things in the same state in which they happen to be at any given period, as much more likely to do good than harm; because it is favorable to greater stability in the system of legislation. The injury which may possibly be done by defeating a few good laws, will be amply compensated by the advantage of preventing a number of bad ones. Nor is this all. The superior weight and influence of the legislative body in a free government, and the hazard to the Executive in a trial of strength with that body, afford a satisfactory security that the negative would generally be employed with great caution; and there would oftener be room for a charge of timidity than of rashness in the exercise of it. A king of Great Britain, with all his train of sovereign attributes, and with all the influence he draws from a thousand sources, would, at this day, hesitate to put a negative upon the joint resolutions of the two houses of Parliament. He would not fail to exert the utmost resources of that influence to strangle a measure disagreeable to him, in its progress to the throne, to avoid being reduced to the dilemma of permitting it to take effect, or of risking the displeasure of the nation by an opposition to the sense of the legislative body. Nor is it probable, that he would ultimately venture to exert his prerogatives, but in a case of manifest propriety, or extreme necessity. All wellinformed men in that kingdom will accede to the justness of this remark. A very considerable period has elapsed since the negative of the crown has been exercised. If a magistrate so powerful and so well fortified as a British monarch, would have scruples about the exercise of the power under consideration, how much greater caution may be reasonably expected in a President of the United States, clothed for the short period of four years with the executive authority of a government wholly and purely republican? It is evident that there would be greater danger of his not using his power when necessary, than of his using it too often, or too much. An argument, indeed, against its expediency, has been drawn from this very source. It has been represented, on this account, as a power odious in appearance, useless in practice. But it will not follow, that because it might be rarely exercised, it would never be exercised. In the case for which it is chiefly designed, that of an immediate attack upon the constitutional rights of the Executive, or in a case in which the public good was evidently and palpably sacrificed, a man of tolerable firmness would avail himself of his constitutional means of defense, and would listen to the admonitions of duty and responsibility. In the former supposition, his fortitude would be stimulated by his immediate interest in the power of his office; in the latter, by the probability of the sanction of his constituents, who, though they would naturally incline to the legislative body in a doubtful case, would hardly suffer their partiality to delude them in a very plain case. I speak now with an eye to a magistrate possessing only a common share of firmness. There are men who, under any circumstances, will have the courage to do their duty at every hazard. But the convention have pursued a mean in this business, which will both facilitate the exercise of the power vested in this respect in the executive magistrate, and make its efficacy to depend on the sense of a considerable part of the legislative body. Instead of an absolute negative, it is proposed to give the Executive the qualified negative already described. This is a power which would be much more readily exercised than the other. A man who might be afraid to defeat a law by his single VETO, might not scruple to return it for reconsideration; subject to being finally rejected only in the event of more than one third of each house concurring in the sufficiency of his objections. He would be encouraged by the reflection, that if his opposition should prevail, it would embark in it a very respectable proportion of the legislative body, whose influence would be united with his in supporting the propriety of his conduct in the public opinion. A direct and categorical negative has something in the appearance of it more harsh, and more apt to irritate, than the mere suggestion of argumentative objections to be approved or disapproved by those to whom they are addressed. In proportion as it would be less apt to offend, it would be more apt to be exercised; and for this very reason, it may in practice be found more effectual. It is to be hoped that it will not often happen that improper views will govern so large a proportion as two thirds of both branches of the legislature at the same time; and this, too, in spite of the counterposing weight of the Executive. It is at any rate far less probable that this should be the case, than that such views should taint the resolutions and conduct of a bare majority. A power of this nature in the Executive, will often have a silent and unperceived, though forcible, operation. When men, engaged in unjustifiable pursuits, are aware that obstructions may come from a quarter which they cannot control, they will often be restrained by the bare apprehension of opposition, from doing what they would with eagerness rush into, if no such external impediments were to be feared. This qualified negative, as has been elsewhere remarked, is in this State vested in a council, consisting of the governor, with the chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, or any two of them. It has been freely employed upon a variety of occasions, and frequently with success. And its utility has become so apparent, that persons who, in compiling the Constitution, were violent opposers of it, have from experience become its declared admirers.(1) I have in another place remarked, that the convention, in the formation of this part of their plan, had departed from the model of the constitution of this State, in favor of that of Massachusetts. Two strong reasons may be imagined for this preference. One is that the judges, who are to be the interpreters of the law, might receive an improper bias, from having given a previous opinion in their revisionary capacities; the other is that by being often associated with the Executive, they might be induced to embark too far in the political views of that magistrate, and thus a dangerous combination might by degrees be cemented between the executive and judiciary departments. It is impossible to keep the judges too distinct from every other avocation than that of expounding the laws. It is peculiarly dangerous to place them in a situation to be either corrupted or influenced by the Executive. PUBLIUS 1. Mr. Abraham Yates, a warm opponent of the plan of the convention is of this number. FEDERALIST No. 74 The Command of the Military and Naval Forces, and the Pardoning Power of the Executive. From the New York Packet. Tuesday, March 25, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE President of the United States is to be \"commanderinchief of the army and navy of the United States, and of the militia of the several States when called into the actual service of the United States.\" The propriety of this provision is so evident in itself, and it is, at the same time, so consonant to the precedents of the State constitutions in general, that little need be said to explain or enforce it. Even those of them which have, in other respects, coupled the chief magistrate with a council, have for the most part concentrated the military authority in him alone. Of all the cares or concerns of government, the direction of war most peculiarly demands those qualities which distinguish the exercise of power by a single hand. The direction of war implies the direction of the common strength; and the power of directing and employing the common strength, forms a usual and essential part in the definition of the executive authority. \"The President may require the opinion, in writing, of the principal officer in each of the executive departments, upon any subject relating to the duties of their respective officers.\" This I consider as a mere redundancy in the plan, as the right for which it provides would result of itself from the office. He is also to be authorized to grant \"reprieves and pardons for offenses against the United States, except in cases of impeachment.\" Humanity and good policy conspire to dictate, that the benign prerogative of pardoning should be as little as possible fettered or embarrassed. The criminal code of every country partakes so much of necessary severity, that without an easy access to exceptions in favor of unfortunate guilt, justice would wear a countenance too sanguinary and cruel. As the sense of responsibility is always strongest, in proportion as it is undivided, it may be inferred that a single man would be most ready to attend to the force of those motives which might plead for a mitigation of the rigor of the law, and least apt to yield to considerations which were calculated to shelter a fit object of its vengeance. The reflection that the fate of a fellowcreature depended on his sole fiat, would naturally inspire scrupulousness and caution; the dread of being accused of weakness or connivance, would beget equal circumspection, though of a different kind. On the other hand, as men generally derive confidence from their numbers, they might often encourage each other in an act of obduracy, and might be less sensible to the apprehension of suspicion or censure for an injudicious or affected clemency. On these accounts, one man appears to be a more eligible dispenser of the mercy of government, than a body of men. The expediency of vesting the power of pardoning in the President has, if I mistake not, been only contested in relation to the crime of treason. This, it has been urged, ought to have depended upon the assent of one, or both, of the branches of the legislative body. I shall not deny that there are strong reasons to be assigned for requiring in this particular the concurrence of that body, or of a part of it. As treason is a crime levelled at the immediate being of the society, when the laws have once ascertained the guilt of the offender, there seems a fitness in referring the expediency of an act of mercy towards him to the judgment of the legislature. And this ought the rather to be the case, as the supposition of the connivance of the Chief Magistrate ought not to be entirely excluded. But there are also strong objections to such a plan. It is not to be doubted, that a single man of prudence and good sense is better fitted, in delicate conjunctures, to balance the motives which may plead for and against the remission of the punishment, than any numerous body whatever. It deserves particular attention, that treason will often be connected with seditions which embrace a large proportion of the community; as lately happened in Massachusetts. In every such case, we might expect to see the representation of the people tainted with the same spirit which had given birth to the offense. And when parties were pretty equally matched, the secret sympathy of the friends and favorers of the condemned person, availing itself of the goodnature and weakness of others, might frequently bestow impunity where the terror of an example was necessary. On the other hand, when the sedition had proceeded from causes which had inflamed the resentments of the major party, they might often be found obstinate and inexorable, when policy demanded a conduct of forbearance and clemency. But the principal argument for reposing the power of pardoning in this case to the Chief Magistrate is this: in seasons of insurrection or rebellion, there are often critical moments, when a welltimed offer of pardon to the insurgents or rebels may restore the tranquillity of the commonwealth; and which, if suffered to pass unimproved, it may never be possible afterwards to recall. The dilatory process of convening the legislature, or one of its branches, for the purpose of obtaining its sanction to the measure, would frequently be the occasion of letting slip the golden opportunity. The loss of a week, a day, an hour, may sometimes be fatal. If it should be observed, that a discretionary power, with a view to such contingencies, might be occasionally conferred upon the President, it may be answered in the first place, that it is questionable, whether, in a limited Constitution, that power could be delegated by law; and in the second place, that it would generally be impolitic beforehand to take any step which might hold out the prospect of impunity. A proceeding of this kind, out of the usual course, would be likely to be construed into an argument of timidity or of weakness, and would have a tendency to embolden guilt. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 75 The TreatyMaking Power of the Executive For the Independent Journal. Wednesday, March 26, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE President is to have power, \"by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the senators present concur.\" Though this provision has been assailed, on different grounds, with no small degree of vehemence, I scruple not to declare my firm persuasion, that it is one of the best digested and most unexceptionable parts of the plan. One ground of objection is the trite topic of the intermixture of powers; some contending that the President ought alone to possess the power of making treaties; others, that it ought to have been exclusively deposited in the Senate. Another source of objection is derived from the small number of persons by whom a treaty may be made. Of those who espouse this objection, a part are of opinion that the House of Representatives ought to have been associated in the business, while another part seem to think that nothing more was necessary than to have substituted two thirds of all the members of the Senate, to two thirds of the members present. As I flatter myself the observations made in a preceding number upon this part of the plan must have sufficed to place it, to a discerning eye, in a very favorable light, I shall here content myself with offering only some supplementary remarks, principally with a view to the objections which have been just stated. With regard to the intermixture of powers, I shall rely upon the explanations already given in other places, of the true sense of the rule upon which that objection is founded; and shall take it for granted, as an inference from them, that the union of the Executive with the Senate, in the article of treaties, is no infringement of that rule. I venture to add, that the particular nature of the power of making treaties indicates a peculiar propriety in that union. Though several writers on the subject of government place that power in the class of executive authorities, yet this is evidently an arbitrary disposition; for if we attend carefully to its operation, it will be found to partake more of the legislative than of the executive character, though it does not seem strictly to fall within the definition of either of them. The essence of the legislative authority is to enact laws, or, in other words, to prescribe rules for the regulation of the society; while the execution of the laws, and the employment of the common strength, either for this purpose or for the common defense, seem to comprise all the functions of the executive magistrate. The power of making treaties is, plainly, neither the one nor the other. It relates neither to the execution of the subsisting laws, nor to the enaction of new ones; and still less to an exertion of the common strength. Its objects are CONTRACTS with foreign nations, which have the force of law, but derive it from the obligations of good faith. They are not rules prescribed by the sovereign to the subject, but agreements between sovereign and sovereign. The power in question seems therefore to form a distinct department, and to belong, properly, neither to the legislative nor to the executive. The qualities elsewhere detailed as indispensable in the management of foreign negotiations, point out the Executive as the most fit agent in those transactions; while the vast importance of the trust, and the operation of treaties as laws, plead strongly for the participation of the whole or a portion of the legislative body in the office of making them. However proper or safe it may be in governments where the executive magistrate is an hereditary monarch, to commit to him the entire power of making treaties, it would be utterly unsafe and improper to intrust that power to an elective magistrate of four years' duration. It has been remarked, upon another occasion, and the remark is unquestionably just, that an hereditary monarch, though often the oppressor of his people, has personally too much stake in the government to be in any material danger of being corrupted by foreign powers. But a man raised from the station of a private citizen to the rank of chief magistrate, possessed of a moderate or slender fortune, and looking forward to a period not very remote when he may probably be obliged to return to the station from which he was taken, might sometimes be under temptations to sacrifice his duty to his interest, which it would require superlative virtue to withstand. An avaricious man might be tempted to betray the interests of the state to the acquisition of wealth. An ambitious man might make his own aggrandizement, by the aid of a foreign power, the price of his treachery to his constituents. The history of human conduct does not warrant that exalted opinion of human virtue which would make it wise in a nation to commit interests of so delicate and momentous a kind, as those which concern its intercourse with the rest of the world, to the sole disposal of a magistrate created and circumstanced as would be a President of the United States. To have intrusted the power of making treaties to the Senate alone, would have been to relinquish the benefits of the constitutional agency of the President in the conduct of foreign negotiations. It is true that the Senate would, in that case, have the option of employing him in this capacity, but they would also have the option of letting it alone, and pique or cabal might induce the latter rather than the former. Besides this, the ministerial servant of the Senate could not be expected to enjoy the confidence and respect of foreign powers in the same degree with the constitutional representatives of the nation, and, of course, would not be able to act with an equal degree of weight or efficacy. While the Union would, from this cause, lose a considerable advantage in the management of its external concerns, the people would lose the additional security which would result from the cooperation of the Executive. Though it would be imprudent to confide in him solely so important a trust, yet it cannot be doubted that his participation would materially add to the safety of the society. It must indeed be clear to a demonstration that the joint possession of the power in question, by the President and Senate, would afford a greater prospect of security, than the separate possession of it by either of them. And whoever has maturely weighed the circumstances which must concur in the appointment of a President, will be satisfied that the office will always bid fair to be filled by men of such characters as to render their concurrence in the formation of treaties peculiarly desirable, as well on the score of wisdom, as on that of integrity. The remarks made in a former number, which have been alluded to in another part of this paper, will apply with conclusive force against the admission of the House of Representatives to a share in the formation of treaties. The fluctuating and, taking its future increase into the account, the multitudinous composition of that body, forbid us to expect in it those qualities which are essential to the proper execution of such a trust. Accurate and comprehensive knowledge of foreign politics; a steady and systematic adherence to the same views; a nice and uniform sensibility to national character; decision, secrecy, and despatch, are incompatible with the genius of a body so variable and so numerous. The very complication of the business, by introducing a necessity of the concurrence of so many different bodies, would of itself afford a solid objection. The greater frequency of the calls upon the House of Representatives, and the greater length of time which it would often be necessary to keep them together when convened, to obtain their sanction in the progressive stages of a treaty, would be a source of so great inconvenience and expense as alone ought to condemn the project. The only objection which remains to be canvassed, is that which would substitute the proportion of two thirds of all the members composing the senatorial body, to that of two thirds of the members present. It has been shown, under the second head of our inquiries, that all provisions which require more than the majority of any body to its resolutions, have a direct tendency to embarrass the operations of the government, and an indirect one to subject the sense of the majority to that of the minority. This consideration seems sufficient to determine our opinion, that the convention have gone as far in the endeavor to secure the advantage of numbers in the formation of treaties as could have been reconciled either with the activity of the public councils or with a reasonable regard to the major sense of the community. If two thirds of the whole number of members had been required, it would, in many cases, from the nonattendance of a part, amount in practice to a necessity of unanimity. And the history of every political establishment in which this principle has prevailed, is a history of impotence, perplexity, and disorder. Proofs of this position might be adduced from the examples of the Roman Tribuneship, the Polish Diet, and the StatesGeneral of the Netherlands, did not an example at home render foreign precedents unnecessary. To require a fixed proportion of the whole body would not, in all probability, contribute to the advantages of a numerous agency, better then merely to require a proportion of the attending members. The former, by making a determinate number at all times requisite to a resolution, diminishes the motives to punctual attendance. The latter, by making the capacity of the body to depend on a proportion which may be varied by the absence or presence of a single member, has the contrary effect. And as, by promoting punctuality, it tends to keep the body complete, there is great likelihood that its resolutions would generally be dictated by as great a number in this case as in the other; while there would be much fewer occasions of delay. It ought not to be forgotten that, under the existing Confederation, two members may, and usually do, represent a State; whence it happens that Congress, who now are solely invested with all the powers of the Union, rarely consist of a greater number of persons than would compose the intended Senate. If we add to this, that as the members vote by States, and that where there is only a single member present from a State, his vote is lost, it will justify a supposition that the active voices in the Senate, where the members are to vote individually, would rarely fall short in number of the active voices in the existing Congress. When, in addition to these considerations, we take into view the cooperation of the President, we shall not hesitate to infer that the people of America would have greater security against an improper use of the power of making treaties, under the new Constitution, than they now enjoy under the Confederation. And when we proceed still one step further, and look forward to the probable augmentation of the Senate, by the erection of new States, we shall not only perceive ample ground of confidence in the sufficiency of the members to whose agency that power will be intrusted, but we shall probably be led to conclude that a body more numerous than the Senate would be likely to become, would be very little fit for the proper discharge of the trust. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 76 The Appointing Power of the Executive From the New York Packet. Tuesday, April 1, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE President is \"to nominate, and, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors, other public ministers and consuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all other officers of the United States whose appointments are not otherwise provided for in the Constitution. But the Congress may by law vest the appointment of such inferior officers as they think proper, in the President alone, or in the courts of law, or in the heads of departments. The President shall have power to fill up all vacancies which may happen during the recess of the Senate, by granting commissions which shall expire at the end of their next session.\" It has been observed in a former paper, that \"the true test of a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good administration.\" If the justness of this observation be admitted, the mode of appointing the officers of the United States contained in the foregoing clauses, must, when examined, be allowed to be entitled to particular commendation. It is not easy to conceive a plan better calculated than this to promote a judicious choice of men for filling the offices of the Union; and it will not need proof, that on this point must essentially depend the character of its administration. It will be agreed on all hands, that the power of appointment, in ordinary cases, ought to be modified in one of three ways. It ought either to be vested in a single man, or in a select assembly of a moderate number; or in a single man, with the concurrence of such an assembly. The exercise of it by the people at large will be readily admitted to be impracticable; as waiving every other consideration, it would leave them little time to do anything else. When, therefore, mention is made in the subsequent reasonings of an assembly or body of men, what is said must be understood to relate to a select body or assembly, of the description already given. The people collectively, from their number and from their dispersed situation, cannot be regulated in their movements by that systematic spirit of cabal and intrigue, which will be urged as the chief objections to reposing the power in question in a body of men. Those who have themselves reflected upon the subject, or who have attended to the observations made in other parts of these papers, in relation to the appointment of the President, will, I presume, agree to the position, that there would always be great probability of having the place supplied by a man of abilities, at least respectable. Premising this, I proceed to lay it down as a rule, that one man of discernment is better fitted to analyze and estimate the peculiar qualities adapted to particular offices, than a body of men of equal or perhaps even of superior discernment. The sole and undivided responsibility of one man will naturally beget a livelier sense of duty and a more exact regard to reputation. He will, on this account, feel himself under stronger obligations, and more interested to investigate with care the qualities requisite to the stations to be filled, and to prefer with impartiality the persons who may have the fairest pretensions to them. He will have fewer personal attachments to gratify, than a body of men who may each be supposed to have an equal number; and will be so much the less liable to be misled by the sentiments of friendship and of affection. A single welldirected man, by a single understanding, cannot be distracted and warped by that diversity of views, feelings, and interests, which frequently distract and warp the resolutions of a collective body. There is nothing so apt to agitate the passions of mankind as personal considerations whether they relate to ourselves or to others, who are to be the objects of our choice or preference. Hence, in every exercise of the power of appointing to offices, by an assembly of men, we must expect to see a full display of all the private and party likings and dislikes, partialities and antipathies, attachments and animosities, which are felt by those who compose the assembly. The choice which may at any time happen to be made under such circumstances, will of course be the result either of a victory gained by one party over the other, or of a compromise between the parties. In either case, the intrinsic merit of the candidate will be too often out of sight. In the first, the qualifications best adapted to uniting the suffrages of the party, will be more considered than those which fit the person for the station. In the last, the coalition will commonly turn upon some interested equivalent: \"Give us the man we wish for this office, and you shall have the one you wish for that.\" This will be the usual condition of the bargain. And it will rarely happen that the advancement of the public service will be the primary object either of party victories or of party negotiations. The truth of the principles here advanced seems to have been felt by the most intelligent of those who have found fault with the provision made, in this respect, by the convention. They contend that the President ought solely to have been authorized to make the appointments under the federal government. But it is easy to show, that every advantage to be expected from such an arrangement would, in substance, be derived from the power of nomination, which is proposed to be conferred upon him; while several disadvantages which might attend the absolute power of appointment in the hands of that officer would be avoided. In the act of nomination, his judgment alone would be exercised; and as it would be his sole duty to point out the man who, with the approbation of the Senate, should fill an office, his responsibility would be as complete as if he were to make the final appointment. There can, in this view, be no difference between nominating and appointing. The same motives which would influence a proper discharge of his duty in one case, would exist in the other. And as no man could be appointed but on his previous nomination, every man who might be appointed would be, in fact, his choice. But might not his nomination be overruled? I grant it might, yet this could only be to make place for another nomination by himself. The person ultimately appointed must be the object of his preference, though perhaps not in the first degree. It is also not very probable that his nomination would often be overruled. The Senate could not be tempted, by the preference they might feel to another, to reject the one proposed; because they could not assure themselves, that the person they might wish would be brought forward by a second or by any subsequent nomination. They could not even be certain, that a future nomination would present a candidate in any degree more acceptable to them; and as their dissent might cast a kind of stigma upon the individual rejected, and might have the appearance of a reflection upon the judgment of the chief magistrate, it is not likely that their sanction would often be refused, where there were not special and strong reasons for the refusal. To what purpose then require the cooperation of the Senate? I answer, that the necessity of their concurrence would have a powerful, though, in general, a silent operation. It would be an excellent check upon a spirit of favoritism in the President, and would tend greatly to prevent the appointment of unfit characters from State prejudice, from family connection, from personal attachment, or from a view to popularity. In addition to this, it would be an efficacious source of stability in the administration. It will readily be comprehended, that a man who had himself the sole disposition of offices, would be governed much more by his private inclinations and interests, than when he was bound to submit the propriety of his choice to the discussion and determination of a different and independent body, and that body an entire branch of the legislature. The possibility of rejection would be a strong motive to care in proposing. The danger to his own reputation, and, in the case of an elective magistrate, to his political existence, from betraying a spirit of favoritism, or an unbecoming pursuit of popularity, to the observation of a body whose opinion would have great weight in forming that of the public, could not fail to operate as a barrier to the one and to the other. He would be both ashamed and afraid to bring forward, for the most distinguished or lucrative stations, candidates who had no other merit than that of coming from the same State to which he particularly belonged, or of being in some way or other personally allied to him, or of possessing the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them the obsequious instruments of his pleasure. To this reasoning it has been objected that the President, by the influence of the power of nomination, may secure the complaisance of the Senate to his views. This supposition of universal venalty in human nature is little less an error in political reasoning, than the supposition of universal rectitude. The institution of delegated power implies, that there is a portion of virtue and honor among mankind, which may be a reasonable foundation of confidence; and experience justifies the theory. It has been found to exist in the most corrupt periods of the most corrupt governments. The venalty of the British House of Commons has been long a topic of accusation against that body, in the country to which they belong as well as in this; and it cannot be doubted that the charge is, to a considerable extent, well founded. But it is as little to be doubted, that there is always a large proportion of the body, which consists of independent and publicspirited men, who have an influential weight in the councils of the nation. Hence it is (the present reign not excepted) that the sense of that body is often seen to control the inclinations of the monarch, both with regard to men and to measures. Though it might therefore be allowable to suppose that the Executive might occasionally influence some individuals in the Senate, yet the supposition, that he could in general purchase the integrity of the whole body, would be forced and improbable. A man disposed to view human nature as it is, without either flattering its virtues or exaggerating its vices, will see sufficient ground of confidence in the probity of the Senate, to rest satisfied, not only that it will be impracticable to the Executive to corrupt or seduce a majority of its members, but that the necessity of its cooperation, in the business of appointments, will be a considerable and salutary restraint upon the conduct of that magistrate. Nor is the integrity of the Senate the only reliance. The Constitution has provided some important guards against the danger of executive influence upon the legislative body: it declares that \"No senator or representative shall during the time for which he was elected, be appointed to any civil office under the United States, which shall have been created, or the emoluments whereof shall have been increased, during such time; and no person, holding any office under the United States, shall be a member of either house during his continuance in office.\" PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 77 The Appointing Power Continued and Other Powers of the Executive Considered. From The Independent Journal. Wednesday, April 2, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IT HAS been mentioned as one of the advantages to be expected from the cooperation of the Senate, in the business of appointments, that it would contribute to the stability of the administration. The consent of that body would be necessary to displace as well as to appoint. A change of the Chief Magistrate, therefore, would not occasion so violent or so general a revolution in the officers of the government as might be expected, if he were the sole disposer of offices. Where a man in any station had given satisfactory evidence of his fitness for it, a new President would be restrained from attempting a change in favor of a person more agreeable to him, by the apprehension that a discountenance of the Senate might frustrate the attempt, and bring some degree of discredit upon himself. Those who can best estimate the value of a steady administration, will be most disposed to prize a provision which connects the official existence of public men with the approbation or disapprobation of that body which, from the greater permanency of its own composition, will in all probability be less subject to inconstancy than any other member of the government. To this union of the Senate with the President, in the article of appointments, it has in some cases been suggested that it would serve to give the President an undue influence over the Senate, and in others that it would have an opposite tendencya strong proof that neither suggestion is true. To state the first in its proper form, is to refute it. It amounts to this: the President would have an improper influence over the Senate, because the Senate would have the power of restraining him. This is an absurdity in terms. It cannot admit of a doubt that the entire power of appointment would enable him much more effectually to establish a dangerous empire over that body, than a mere power of nomination subject to their control. Let us take a view of the converse of the proposition: \"the Senate would influence the Executive.\" As I have had occasion to remark in several other instances, the indistinctness of the objection forbids a precise answer. In what manner is this influence to be exerted? In relation to what objects? The power of influencing a person, in the sense in which it is here used, must imply a power of conferring a benefit upon him. How could the Senate confer a benefit upon the President by the manner of employing their right of negative upon his nominations? If it be said they might sometimes gratify him by an acquiescence in a favorite choice, when public motives might dictate a different conduct, I answer, that the instances in which the President could be personally interested in the result, would be too few to admit of his being materially affected by the compliances of the Senate. The POWER which can originate the disposition of honors and emoluments, is more likely to attract than to be attracted by the POWER which can merely obstruct their course. If by influencing the President be meant restraining him, this is precisely what must have been intended. And it has been shown that the restraint would be salutary, at the same time that it would not be such as to destroy a single advantage to be looked for from the uncontrolled agency of that Magistrate. The right of nomination would produce all the (good, without the ill.)(E1) (good of that of appointment, and would in a great measure avoid its evils.)(E1) Upon a comparison of the plan for the appointment of the officers of the proposed government with that which is established by the constitution of this State, a decided preference must be given to the former. In that plan the power of nomination is unequivocally vested in the Executive. And as there would be a necessity for submitting each nomination to the judgment of an entire branch of the legislature, the circumstances attending an appointment, from the mode of conducting it, would naturally become matters of notoriety; and the public would be at no loss to determine what part had been performed by the different actors. The blame of a bad nomination would fall upon the President singly and absolutely. The censure of rejecting a good one would lie entirely at the door of the Senate; aggravated by the consideration of their having counteracted the good intentions of the Executive. If an ill appointment should be made, the Executive for nominating, and the Senate for approving, would participate, though in different degrees, in the opprobrium and disgrace. The reverse of all this characterizes the manner of appointment in this State. The council of appointment consists of from three to five persons, of whom the governor is always one. This small body, shut up in a private apartment, impenetrable to the public eye, proceed to the execution of the trust committed to them. It is known that the governor claims the right of nomination, upon the strength of some ambiguous expressions in the constitution; but it is not known to what extent, or in what manner he exercises it; nor upon what occasions he is contradicted or opposed. The censure of a bad appointment, on account of the uncertainty of its author, and for want of a determinate object, has neither poignancy nor duration. And while an unbounded field for cabal and intrigue lies open, all idea of responsibility is lost. The most that the public can know, is that the governor claims the right of nomination; that two out of the inconsiderable number of four men can too often be managed without much difficulty; that if some of the members of a particular council should happen to be of an uncomplying character, it is frequently not impossible to get rid of their opposition by regulating the times of meeting in such a manner as to render their attendance inconvenient; and that from whatever cause it may proceed, a great number of very improper appointments are from time to time made. Whether a governor of this State avails himself of the ascendant he must necessarily have, in this delicate and important part of the administration, to prefer to offices men who are best qualified for them, or whether he prostitutes that advantage to the advancement of persons whose chief merit is their implicit devotion to his will, and to the support of a despicable and dangerous system of personal influence, are questions which, unfortunately for the community, can only be the subjects of speculation and conjecture. Every mere council of appointment, however constituted, will be a conclave, in which cabal and intrigue will have their full scope. Their number, without an unwarrantable increase of expense, cannot be large enough to preclude a facility of combination. And as each member will have his friends and connections to provide for, the desire of mutual gratification will beget a scandalous bartering of votes and bargaining for places. The private attachments of one man might easily be satisfied; but to satisfy the private attachments of a dozen, or of twenty men, would occasion a monopoly of all the principal employments of the government in a few families, and would lead more directly to an aristocracy or an oligarchy than any measure that could be contrived. If, to avoid an accumulation of offices, there was to be a frequent change in the persons who were to compose the council, this would involve the mischiefs of a mutable administration in their full extent. Such a council would also be more liable to executive influence than the Senate, because they would be fewer in number, and would act less immediately under the public inspection. Such a council, in fine, as a substitute for the plan of the convention, would be productive of an increase of expense, a multiplication of the evils which spring from favoritism and intrigue in the distribution of public honors, a decrease of stability in the administration of the government, and a diminution of the security against an undue influence of the Executive. And yet such a council has been warmly contended for as an essential amendment in the proposed Constitution. I could not with propriety conclude my observations on the subject of appointments without taking notice of a scheme for which there have appeared some, though but few advocates; I mean that of uniting the House of Representatives in the power of making them. I shall, however, do little more than mention it, as I cannot imagine that it is likely to gain the countenance of any considerable part of the community. A body so fluctuating and at the same time so numerous, can never be deemed proper for the exercise of that power. Its unfitness will appear manifest to all, when it is recollected that in half a century it may consist of three or four hundred persons. All the advantages of the stability, both of the Executive and of the Senate, would be defeated by this union, and infinite delays and embarrassments would be occasioned. The example of most of the States in their local constitutions encourages us to reprobate the idea. The only remaining powers of the Executive are comprehended in giving information to Congress of the state of the Union; in recommending to their consideration such measures as he shall judge expedient; in convening them, or either branch, upon extraordinary occasions; in adjourning them when they cannot themselves agree upon the time of adjournment; in receiving ambassadors and other public ministers; in faithfully executing the laws; and in commissioning all the officers of the United States. Except some cavils about the power of convening either house of the legislature, and that of receiving ambassadors, no objection has been made to this class of authorities; nor could they possibly admit of any. It required, indeed, an insatiable avidity for censure to invent exceptions to the parts which have been excepted to. In regard to the power of convening either house of the legislature, I shall barely remark, that in respect to the Senate at least, we can readily discover a good reason for it. AS this body has a concurrent power with the Executive in the article of treaties, it might often be necessary to call it together with a view to this object, when it would be unnecessary and improper to convene the House of Representatives. As to the reception of ambassadors, what I have said in a former paper will furnish a sufficient answer. We have now completed a survey of the structure and powers of the executive department, which, I have endeavored to show, combines, as far as republican principles will admit, all the requisites to energy. The remaining inquiry is: Does it also combine the requisites to safety, in a republican sensea due dependence on the people, a due responsibility? The answer to this question has been anticipated in the investigation of its other characteristics, and is satisfactorily deducible from these circumstances; from the election of the President once in four years by persons immediately chosen by the people for that purpose; and from his being at all times liable to impeachment, trial, dismission from office, incapacity to serve in any other, and to forfeiture of life and estate by subsequent prosecution in the common course of law. But these precautions, great as they are, are not the only ones which the plan of the convention has provided in favor of the public security. In the only instances in which the abuse of the executive authority was materially to be feared, the Chief Magistrate of the United States would, by that plan, be subjected to the control of a branch of the legislative body. What more could be desired by an enlightened and reasonable people? PUBLIUS E1. These two alternate endings of this sentence appear in different editions. FEDERALIST No. 78 The Judiciary Department From McLEAN'S Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: WE PROCEED now to an examination of the judiciary department of the proposed government. In unfolding the defects of the existing Confederation, the utility and necessity of a federal judicature have been clearly pointed out. It is the less necessary to recapitulate the considerations there urged, as the propriety of the institution in the abstract is not disputed; the only questions which have been raised being relative to the manner of constituting it, and to its extent. To these points, therefore, our observations shall be confined. The manner of constituting it seems to embrace these several objects: 1st. The mode of appointing the judges. 2d. The tenure by which they are to hold their places. 3d. The partition of the judiciary authority between different courts, and their relations to each other. First. As to the mode of appointing the judges; this is the same with that of appointing the officers of the Union in general, and has been so fully discussed in the two last numbers, that nothing can be said here which would not be useless repetition. Second. As to the tenure by which the judges are to hold their places; this chiefly concerns their duration in office; the provisions for their support; the precautions for their responsibility. According to the plan of the convention, all judges who may be appointed by the United States are to hold their offices during good behavior; which is conformable to the most approved of the State constitutions and among the rest, to that of this State. Its propriety having been drawn into question by the adversaries of that plan, is no light symptom of the rage for objection, which disorders their imaginations and judgments. The standard of good behavior for the continuance in office of the judicial magistracy, is certainly one of the most valuable of the modern improvements in the practice of government. In a monarchy it is an excellent barrier to the despotism of the prince; in a republic it is a no less excellent barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body. And it is the best expedient which can be devised in any government, to secure a steady, upright, and impartial administration of the laws. Whoever attentively considers the different departments of power must perceive, that, in a government in which they are separated from each other, the judiciary, from the nature of its functions, will always be the least dangerous to the political rights of the Constitution; because it will be least in a capacity to annoy or injure them. The Executive not only dispenses the honors, but holds the sword of the community. The legislature not only commands the purse, but prescribes the rules by which the duties and rights of every citizen are to be regulated. The judiciary, on the contrary, has no influence over either the sword or the purse; no direction either of the strength or of the wealth of the society; and can take no active resolution whatever. It may truly be said to have neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments. This simple view of the matter suggests several important consequences. It proves incontestably, that the judiciary is beyond comparison the weakest of the three departments of power(1); that it can never attack with success either of the other two; and that all possible care is requisite to enable it to defend itself against their attacks. It equally proves, that though individual oppression may now and then proceed from the courts of justice, the general liberty of the people can never be endangered from that quarter; I mean so long as the judiciary remains truly distinct from both the legislature and the Executive. For I agree, that \"there is no liberty, if the power of judging be not separated from the legislative and executive powers.\"(2) And it proves, in the last place, that as liberty can have nothing to fear from the judiciary alone, but would have every thing to fear from its union with either of the other departments; that as all the effects of such a union must ensue from a dependence of the former on the latter, notwithstanding a nominal and apparent separation; that as, from the natural feebleness of the judiciary, it is in continual jeopardy of being overpowered, awed, or influenced by its coordinate branches; and that as nothing can contribute so much to its firmness and independence as permanency in office, this quality may therefore be justly regarded as an indispensable ingredient in its constitution, and, in a great measure, as the citadel of the public justice and the public security. The complete independence of the courts of justice is peculiarly essential in a limited Constitution. By a limited Constitution, I understand one which contains certain specified exceptions to the legislative authority; such, for instance, as that it shall pass no bills of attainder, no ex post facto laws, and the like. Limitations of this kind can be preserved in practice no other way than through the medium of courts of justice, whose duty it must be to declare all acts contrary to the manifest tenor of the Constitution void. Without this, all the reservations of particular rights or privileges would amount to nothing. Some perplexity respecting the rights of the courts to pronounce legislative acts void, because contrary to the Constitution, has arisen from an imagination that the doctrine would imply a superiority of the judiciary to the legislative power. It is urged that the authority which can declare the acts of another void, must necessarily be superior to the one whose acts may be declared void. As this doctrine is of great importance in all the American constitutions, a brief discussion of the ground on which it rests cannot be unacceptable. There is no position which depends on clearer principles, than that every act of a delegated authority, contrary to the tenor of the commission under which it is exercised, is void. No legislative act, therefore, contrary to the Constitution, can be valid. To deny this, would be to affirm, that the deputy is greater than his principal; that the servant is above his master; that the representatives of the people are superior to the people themselves; that men acting by virtue of powers, may do not only what their powers do not authorize, but what they forbid. If it be said that the legislative body are themselves the constitutional judges of their own powers, and that the construction they put upon them is conclusive upon the other departments, it may be answered, that this cannot be the natural presumption, where it is not to be collected from any particular provisions in the Constitution. It is not otherwise to be supposed, that the Constitution could intend to enable the representatives of the people to substitute their will to that of their constituents. It is far more rational to suppose, that the courts were designed to be an intermediate body between the people and the legislature, in order, among other things, to keep the latter within the limits assigned to their authority. The interpretation of the laws is the proper and peculiar province of the courts. A constitution is, in fact, and must be regarded by the judges, as a fundamental law. It therefore belongs to them to ascertain its meaning, as well as the meaning of any particular act proceeding from the legislative body. If there should happen to be an irreconcilable variance between the two, that which has the superior obligation and validity ought, of course, to be preferred; or, in other words, the Constitution ought to be preferred to the statute, the intention of the people to the intention of their agents. Nor does this conclusion by any means suppose a superiority of the judicial to the legislative power. It only supposes that the power of the people is superior to both; and that where the will of the legislature, declared in its statutes, stands in opposition to that of the people, declared in the Constitution, the judges ought to be governed by the latter rather than the former. They ought to regulate their decisions by the fundamental laws, rather than by those which are not fundamental. This exercise of judicial discretion, in determining between two contradictory laws, is exemplified in a familiar instance. It not uncommonly happens, that there are two statutes existing at one time, clashing in whole or in part with each other, and neither of them containing any repealing clause or expression. In such a case, it is the province of the courts to liquidate and fix their meaning and operation. So far as they can, by any fair construction, be reconciled to each other, reason and law conspire to dictate that this should be done; where this is impracticable, it becomes a matter of necessity to give effect to one, in exclusion of the other. The rule which has obtained in the courts for determining their relative validity is, that the last in order of time shall be preferred to the first. But this is a mere rule of construction, not derived from any positive law, but from the nature and reason of the thing. It is a rule not enjoined upon the courts by legislative provision, but adopted by themselves, as consonant to truth and propriety, for the direction of their conduct as interpreters of the law. They thought it reasonable, that between the interfering acts of an EQUAL authority, that which was the last indication of its will should have the preference. But in regard to the interfering acts of a superior and subordinate authority, of an original and derivative power, the nature and reason of the thing indicate the converse of that rule as proper to be followed. They teach us that the prior act of a superior ought to be preferred to the subsequent act of an inferior and subordinate authority; and that accordingly, whenever a particular statute contravenes the Constitution, it will be the duty of the judicial tribunals to adhere to the latter and disregard the former. It can be of no weight to say that the courts, on the pretense of a repugnancy, may substitute their own pleasure to the constitutional intentions of the legislature. This might as well happen in the case of two contradictory statutes; or it might as well happen in every adjudication upon any single statute. The courts must declare the sense of the law; and if they should be disposed to exercise WILL instead of JUDGMENT, the consequence would equally be the substitution of their pleasure to that of the legislative body. The observation, if it prove any thing, would prove that there ought to be no judges distinct from that body. If, then, the courts of justice are to be considered as the bulwarks of a limited Constitution against legislative encroachments, this consideration will afford a strong argument for the permanent tenure of judicial offices, since nothing will contribute so much as this to that independent spirit in the judges which must be essential to the faithful performance of so arduous a duty. This independence of the judges is equally requisite to guard the Constitution and the rights of individuals from the effects of those ill humors, which the arts of designing men, or the influence of particular conjunctures, sometimes disseminate among the people themselves, and which, though they speedily give place to better information, and more deliberate reflection, have a tendency, in the meantime, to occasion dangerous innovations in the government, and serious oppressions of the minor party in the community. Though I trust the friends of the proposed Constitution will never concur with its enemies,(3) in questioning that fundamental principle of republican government, which admits the right of the people to alter or abolish the established Constitution, whenever they find it inconsistent with their happiness, yet it is not to be inferred from this principle, that the representatives of the people, whenever a momentary inclination happens to lay hold of a majority of their constituents, incompatible with the provisions in the existing Constitution, would, on that account, be justifiable in a violation of those provisions; or that the courts would be under a greater obligation to connive at infractions in this shape, than when they had proceeded wholly from the cabals of the representative body. Until the people have, by some solemn and authoritative act, annulled or changed the established form, it is binding upon themselves collectively, as well as individually; and no presumption, or even knowledge, of their sentiments, can warrant their representatives in a departure from it, prior to such an act. But it is easy to see, that it would require an uncommon portion of fortitude in the judges to do their duty as faithful guardians of the Constitution, where legislative invasions of it had been instigated by the major voice of the community. But it is not with a view to infractions of the Constitution only, that the independence of the judges may be an essential safeguard against the effects of occasional ill humors in the society. These sometimes extend no farther than to the injury of the private rights of particular classes of citizens, by unjust and partial laws. Here also the firmness of the judicial magistracy is of vast importance in mitigating the severity and confining the operation of such laws. It not only serves to moderate the immediate mischiefs of those which may have been passed, but it operates as a check upon the legislative body in passing them; who, perceiving that obstacles to the success of iniquitous intention are to be expected from the scruples of the courts, are in a manner compelled, by the very motives of the injustice they meditate, to qualify their attempts. This is a circumstance calculated to have more influence upon the character of our governments, than but few may be aware of. The benefits of the integrity and moderation of the judiciary have already been felt in more States than one; and though they may have displeased those whose sinister expectations they may have disappointed, they must have commanded the esteem and applause of all the virtuous and disinterested. Considerate men, of every description, ought to prize whatever will tend to beget or fortify that temper in the courts: as no man can be sure that he may not be tomorrow the victim of a spirit of injustice, by which he may be a gainer today. And every man must now feel, that the inevitable tendency of such a spirit is to sap the foundations of public and private confidence, and to introduce in its stead universal distrust and distress. That inflexible and uniform adherence to the rights of the Constitution, and of individuals, which we perceive to be indispensable in the courts of justice, can certainly not be expected from judges who hold their offices by a temporary commission. Periodical appointments, however regulated, or by whomsoever made, would, in some way or other, be fatal to their necessary independence. If the power of making them was committed either to the Executive or legislature, there would be danger of an improper complaisance to the branch which possessed it; if to both, there would be an unwillingness to hazard the displeasure of either; if to the people, or to persons chosen by them for the special purpose, there would be too great a disposition to consult popularity, to justify a reliance that nothing would be consulted but the Constitution and the laws. There is yet a further and a weightier reason for the permanency of the judicial offices, which is deducible from the nature of the qualifications they require. It has been frequently remarked, with great propriety, that a voluminous code of laws is one of the inconveniences necessarily connected with the advantages of a free government. To avoid an arbitrary discretion in the courts, it is indispensable that they should be bound down by strict rules and precedents, which serve to define and point out their duty in every particular case that comes before them; and it will readily be conceived from the variety of controversies which grow out of the folly and wickedness of mankind, that the records of those precedents must unavoidably swell to a very considerable bulk, and must demand long and laborious study to acquire a competent knowledge of them. Hence it is, that there can be but few men in the society who will have sufficient skill in the laws to qualify them for the stations of judges. And making the proper deductions for the ordinary depravity of human nature, the number must be still smaller of those who unite the requisite integrity with the requisite knowledge. These considerations apprise us, that the government can have no great option between fit character; and that a temporary duration in office, which would naturally discourage such characters from quitting a lucrative line of practice to accept a seat on the bench, would have a tendency to throw the administration of justice into hands less able, and less well qualified, to conduct it with utility and dignity. In the present circumstances of this country, and in those in which it is likely to be for a long time to come, the disadvantages on this score would be greater than they may at first sight appear; but it must be confessed, that they are far inferior to those which present themselves under the other aspects of the subject. Upon the whole, there can be no room to doubt that the convention acted wisely in copying from the models of those constitutions which have established good behavior as the tenure of their judicial offices, in point of duration; and that so far from being blamable on this account, their plan would have been inexcusably defective, if it had wanted this important feature of good government. The experience of Great Britain affords an illustrious comment on the excellence of the institution. PUBLIUS 1. The celebrated Montesquieu, speaking of them, says: \"Of the three powers above mentioned, the judiciary is next to nothing.\"Spirit of Laws. Vol. I, page 186. 2. Idem, page 181. 3. Vide Protest of the Minority of the Convention of Pennsylvania, Martin's Speech, etc. FEDERALIST No. 79 The Judiciary Continued From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: NEXT to permanency in office, nothing can contribute more to the independence of the judges than a fixed provision for their support. The remark made in relation to the President is equally applicable here. In the general course of human nature, a power over a man's subsistence amounts to a power over his will. And we can never hope to see realized in practice, the complete separation of the judicial from the legislative power, in any system which leaves the former dependent for pecuniary resources on the occasional grants of the latter. The enlightened friends to good government in every State, have seen cause to lament the want of precise and explicit precautions in the State constitutions on this head. Some of these indeed have declared that permanent(1) salaries should be established for the judges; but the experiment has in some instances shown that such expressions are not sufficiently definite to preclude legislative evasions. Something still more positive and unequivocal has been evinced to be requisite. The plan of the convention accordingly has provided that the judges of the United States \"shall at stated times receive for their services a compensation which shall not be diminished during their continuance in office.\" This, all circumstances considered, is the most eligible provision that could have been devised. It will readily be understood that the fluctuations in the value of money and in the state of society rendered a fixed rate of compensation in the Constitution inadmissible. What might be extravagant today, might in half a century become penurious and inadequate. It was therefore necessary to leave it to the discretion of the legislature to vary its provisions in conformity to the variations in circumstances, yet under such restrictions as to put it out of the power of that body to change the condition of the individual for the worse. A man may then be sure of the ground upon which he stands, and can never be deterred from his duty by the apprehension of being placed in a less eligible situation. The clause which has been quoted combines both advantages. The salaries of judicial officers may from time to time be altered, as occasion shall require, yet so as never to lessen the allowance with which any particular judge comes into office, in respect to him. It will be observed that a difference has been made by the convention between the compensation of the President and of the judges, That of the former can neither be increased nor diminished; that of the latter can only not be diminished. This probably arose from the difference in the duration of the respective offices. As the President is to be elected for no more than four years, it can rarely happen that an adequate salary, fixed at the commencement of that period, will not continue to be such to its end. But with regard to the judges, who, if they behave properly, will be secured in their places for life, it may well happen, especially in the early stages of the government, that a stipend, which would be very sufficient at their first appointment, would become too small in the progress of their service. This provision for the support of the judges bears every mark of prudence and efficacy; and it may be safely affirmed that, together with the permanent tenure of their offices, it affords a better prospect of their independence than is discoverable in the constitutions of any of the States in regard to their own judges. The precautions for their responsibility are comprised in the article respecting impeachments. They are liable to be impeached for malconduct by the House of Representatives, and tried by the Senate; and, if convicted, may be dismissed from office, and disqualified for holding any other. This is the only provision on the point which is consistent with the necessary independence of the judicial character, and is the only one which we find in our own Constitution in respect to our own judges. The want of a provision for removing the judges on account of inability has been a subject of complaint. But all considerate men will be sensible that such a provision would either not be practiced upon or would be more liable to abuse than calculated to answer any good purpose. The mensuration of the faculties of the mind has, I believe, no place in the catalogue of known arts. An attempt to fix the boundary between the regions of ability and inability, would much oftener give scope to personal and party attachments and enmities than advance the interests of justice or the public good. The result, except in the case of insanity, must for the most part be arbitrary; and insanity, without any formal or express provision, may be safely pronounced to be a virtual disqualification. The constitution of New York, to avoid investigations that must forever be vague and dangerous, has taken a particular age as the criterion of inability. No man can be a judge beyond sixty. I believe there are few at present who do not disapprove of this provision. There is no station, in relation to which it is less proper than to that of a judge. The deliberating and comparing faculties generally preserve their strength much beyond that period in men who survive it; and when, in addition to this circumstance, we consider how few there are who outlive the season of intellectual vigor, and how improbable it is that any considerable portion of the bench, whether more or less numerous, should be in such a situation at the same time, we shall be ready to conclude that limitations of this sort have little to recommend them. In a republic, where fortunes are not affluent, and pensions not expedient, the dismission of men from stations in which they have served their country long and usefully, on which they depend for subsistence, and from which it will be too late to resort to any other occupation for a livelihood, ought to have some better apology to humanity than is to be found in the imaginary danger of a superannuated bench. PUBLIUS 1. Vide Constitution of Massachusetts, Chapter 2, Section 1, Article 13. FEDERALIST No. 80 The Powers of the Judiciary From McLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: TO JUDGE with accuracy of the proper extent of the federal judicature, it will be necessary to consider, in the first place, what are its proper objects. It seems scarcely to admit of controversy, that the judiciary authority of the Union ought to extend to these several descriptions of cases: 1st, to all those which arise out of the laws of the United States, passed in pursuance of their just and constitutional powers of legislation; 2d, to all those which concern the execution of the provisions expressly contained in the articles of Union; 3d, to all those in which the United States are a party; 4th, to all those which involve the PEACE of the CONFEDERACY, whether they relate to the intercourse between the United States and foreign nations, or to that between the States themselves; 5th, to all those which originate on the high seas, and are of admiralty or maritime jurisdiction; and, lastly, to all those in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial and unbiased. The first point depends upon this obvious consideration, that there ought always to be a constitutional method of giving efficacy to constitutional provisions. What, for instance, would avail restrictions on the authority of the State legislatures, without some constitutional mode of enforcing the observance of them? The States, by the plan of the convention, are prohibited from doing a variety of things, some of which are incompatible with the interests of the Union, and others with the principles of good government. The imposition of duties on imported articles, and the emission of paper money, are specimens of each kind. No man of sense will believe, that such prohibitions would be scrupulously regarded, without some effectual power in the government to restrain or correct the infractions of them. This power must either be a direct negative on the State laws, or an authority in the federal courts to overrule such as might be in manifest contravention of the articles of Union. There is no third course that I can imagine. The latter appears to have been thought by the convention preferable to the former, and, I presume, will be most agreeable to the States. As to the second point, it is impossible, by any argument or comment, to make it clearer than it is in itself. If there are such things as political axioms, the propriety of the judicial power of a government being coextensive with its legislative, may be ranked among the number. The mere necessity of uniformity in the interpretation of the national laws, decides the question. Thirteen independent courts of final jurisdiction over the same causes, arising upon the same laws, is a hydra in government, from which nothing but contradiction and confusion can proceed. Still less need be said in regard to the third point. Controversies between the nation and its members or citizens, can only be properly referred to the national tribunals. Any other plan would be contrary to reason, to precedent, and to decorum. The fourth point rests on this plain proposition, that the peace of the WHOLE ought not to be left at the disposal of a PART. The Union will undoubtedly be answerable to foreign powers for the conduct of its members. And the responsibility for an injury ought ever to be accompanied with the faculty of preventing it. As the denial or perversion of justice by the sentences of courts, as well as in any other manner, is with reason classed among the just causes of war, it will follow that the federal judiciary ought to have cognizance of all causes in which the citizens of other countries are concerned. This is not less essential to the preservation of the public faith, than to the security of the public tranquillity. A distinction may perhaps be imagined between cases arising upon treaties and the laws of nations and those which may stand merely on the footing of the municipal law. The former kind may be supposed proper for the federal jurisdiction, the latter for that of the States. But it is at least problematical, whether an unjust sentence against a foreigner, where the subject of controversy was wholly relative to the lex loci, would not, if unredressed, be an aggression upon his sovereign, as well as one which violated the stipulations of a treaty or the general law of nations. And a still greater objection to the distinction would result from the immense difficulty, if not impossibility, of a practical discrimination between the cases of one complexion and those of the other. So great a proportion of the cases in which foreigners are parties, involve national questions, that it is by far most safe and most expedient to refer all those in which they are concerned to the national tribunals. The power of determining causes between two States, between one State and the citizens of another, and between the citizens of different States, is perhaps not less essential to the peace of the Union than that which has been just examined. History gives us a horrid picture of the dissensions and private wars which distracted and desolated Germany prior to the institution of the Imperial Chamber by Maximilian, towards the close of the fifteenth century; and informs us, at the same time, of the vast influence of that institution in appeasing the disorders and establishing the tranquillity of the empire. This was a court invested with authority to decide finally all differences among the members of the Germanic body. A method of terminating territorial disputes between the States, under the authority of the federal head, was not unattended to, even in the imperfect system by which they have been hitherto held together. But there are many other sources, besides interfering claims of boundary, from which bickerings and animosities may spring up among the members of the Union. To some of these we have been witnesses in the course of our past experience. It will readily be conjectured that I allude to the fraudulent laws which have been passed in too many of the States. And though the proposed Constitution establishes particular guards against the repetition of those instances which have heretofore made their appearance, yet it is warrantable to apprehend that the spirit which produced them will assume new shapes, that could not be foreseen nor specifically provided against. Whatever practices may have a tendency to disturb the harmony between the States, are proper objects of federal superintendence and control. It may be esteemed the basis of the Union, that \"the citizens of each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens of the several States.\" And if it be a just principle that every government ought to possess the means of executing its own provisions by its own authority, it will follow, that in order to the inviolable maintenance of that equality of privileges and immunities to which the citizens of the Union will be entitled, the national judiciary ought to preside in all cases in which one State or its citizens are opposed to another State or its citizens. To secure the full effect of so fundamental a provision against all evasion and subterfuge, it is necessary that its construction should be committed to that tribunal which, having no local attachments, will be likely to be impartial between the different States and their citizens, and which, owing its official existence to the Union, will never be likely to feel any bias inauspicious to the principles on which it is founded. The fifth point will demand little animadversion. The most bigoted idolizers of State authority have not thus far shown a disposition to deny the national judiciary the cognizances of maritime causes. These so generally depend on the laws of nations, and so commonly affect the rights of foreigners, that they fall within the considerations which are relative to the public peace. The most important part of them are, by the present Confederation, submitted to federal jurisdiction. The reasonableness of the agency of the national courts in cases in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial, speaks for itself. No man ought certainly to be a judge in his own cause, or in any cause in respect to which he has the least interest or bias. This principle has no inconsiderable weight in designating the federal courts as the proper tribunals for the determination of controversies between different States and their citizens. And it ought to have the same operation in regard to some cases between citizens of the same State. Claims to land under grants of different States, founded upon adverse pretensions of boundary, are of this description. The courts of neither of the granting States could be expected to be unbiased. The laws may have even prejudged the question, and tied the courts down to decisions in favor of the grants of the State to which they belonged. And even where this had not been done, it would be natural that the judges, as men, should feel a strong predilection to the claims of their own government. Having thus laid down and discussed the principles which ought to regulate the constitution of the federal judiciary, we will proceed to test, by these principles, the particular powers of which, according to the plan of the convention, it is to be composed. It is to comprehend \"all cases in law and equity arising under the Constitution, the laws of the United States, and treaties made, or which shall be made, under their authority; to all cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to all cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction; to controversies to which the United States shall be a party; to controversies between two or more States; between a State and citizens of another State; between citizens of different States; between citizens of the same State claiming lands and grants of different States; and between a State or the citizens thereof and foreign states, citizens, and subjects.\" This constitutes the entire mass of the judicial authority of the Union. Let us now review it in detail. It is, then, to extend: First. To all cases in law and equity, arising under the Constitution and the laws of the United States. This corresponds with the two first classes of causes, which have been enumerated, as proper for the jurisdiction of the United States. It has been asked, what is meant by \"cases arising under the Constitution,\" in contradiction from those \"arising under the laws of the United States\"? The difference has been already explained. All the restrictions upon the authority of the State legislatures furnish examples of it. They are not, for instance, to emit paper money; but the interdiction results from the Constitution, and will have no connection with any law of the United States. Should paper money, notwithstanding, be emited, the controversies concerning it would be cases arising under the Constitution and not the laws of the United States, in the ordinary signification of the terms. This may serve as a sample of the whole. It has also been asked, what need of the word \"equity\". What equitable causes can grow out of the Constitution and laws of the United States? There is hardly a subject of litigation between individuals, which may not involve those ingredients of fraud, accident, trust, or hardship, which would render the matter an object of equitable rather than of legal jurisdiction, as the distinction is known and established in several of the States. It is the peculiar province, for instance, of a court of equity to relieve against what are called hard bargains: these are contracts in which, though there may have been no direct fraud or deceit, sufficient to invalidate them in a court of law, yet there may have been some undue and unconscionable advantage taken of the necessities or misfortunes of one of the parties, which a court of equity would not tolerate. In such cases, where foreigners were concerned on either side, it would be impossible for the federal judicatories to do justice without an equitable as well as a legal jurisdiction. Agreements to convey lands claimed under the grants of different States, may afford another example of the necessity of an equitable jurisdiction in the federal courts. This reasoning may not be so palpable in those States where the formal and technical distinction between LAW and EQUITY is not maintained, as in this State, where it is exemplified by every day's practice. The judiciary authority of the Union is to extend: Second. To treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, and to all cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls. These belong to the fourth class of the enumerated cases, as they have an evident connection with the preservation of the national peace. Third. To cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction. These form, altogether, the fifth of the enumerated classes of causes proper for the cognizance of the national courts. Fourth. To controversies to which the United States shall be a party. These constitute the third of those classes. Fifth. To controversies between two or more States; between a State and citizens of another State; between citizens of different States. These belong to the fourth of those classes, and partake, in some measure, of the nature of the last. Sixth. To cases between the citizens of the same State, claiming lands under grants of different States. These fall within the last class, and are the only instances in which the proposed Constitution directly contemplates the cognizance of disputes between the citizens of the same State. Seventh. To cases between a State and the citizens thereof, and foreign States, citizens, or subjects. These have been already explained to belong to the fourth of the enumerated classes, and have been shown to be, in a peculiar manner, the proper subjects of the national judicature. From this review of the particular powers of the federal judiciary, as marked out in the Constitution, it appears that they are all conformable to the principles which ought to have governed the structure of that department, and which were necessary to the perfection of the system. If some partial inconveniences should appear to be connected with the incorporation of any of them into the plan, it ought to be recollected that the national legislature will have ample authority to make such exceptions, and to prescribe such regulations as will be calculated to obviate or remove these inconveniences. The possibility of particular mischiefs can never be viewed, by a wellinformed mind, as a solid objection to a general principle, which is calculated to avoid general mischiefs and to obtain general advantages. PUBLIUS FEDERALIST No. 81 The Judiciary Continued, and the Distribution of the Judicial Authority. From McLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788. HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: LET US now return to the partition of the judiciary authority between different courts, and their relations to each other. \"The judicial power of the United States is\" (by the plan of the convention) \"to be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress may, from time to time, ordain and establish.\"(1) That there ought to be one court of supreme and final jurisdiction, is a proposition which is not likely to be contested. The reasons for it have been assigned in another place, and are too obvious to need repetition. The only question that seems to have been raised concerning it, is, whether it ought to be a distinct body or a branch of the legislature. The same contradiction is observable in regard to this matter which has been remarked in several other cases. The very men who object to the Senate as a court of impeachments, on the ground of an improper intermixture of powers, advocate, by implication at least, the propriety of vesting the ultimate decision of all causes, in the whole or in a part of the legislative body. The arguments, or rather suggestions, upon which this charge is founded, are to this effect: \"The authority of the proposed Supreme Court of the United States, which is to be a separate and independent body, will be superior to that of the legislature. The power of construing the laws according to the spirit of the Constitution, will enable that court to mould them into whatever shape it may think proper; especially as its decisions will not be in any manner subject to the revision or correction of the legislative body. This is as unprecedented as it is dangerous. In Britain, the judicial power, in the last resort, resides in the House of Lords, which is a branch of the legislature; and this part of the British government has been imitated in the State constitutions in general. The Parliament of Great Britain, and the legislatures of the several States, can at any time rectify, by law, the exceptionable decisions of their respective courts. But the errors and usurpations of the Supreme Court of the United States will be uncontrollable and remediless.\" This, upon examination, will be found to be made up altogether of false reasoning upon misconceived fact. In the first place, there is not a syllable in the plan under consideration which directly empowers the national courts to construe the laws according to the spirit of the Constitution, or which gives them any greater latitude in this respect than may be claimed by the courts of every State. I admit, however, that the Constitution ought to be the standard of construction for the laws, and that wherever there is an evident opposition, the laws ought to give place to the Constitution. But this doctrine is not deducible from any circumstance peculiar to the plan of the convention, but from the general theory of a limited Constitution; and as far as it is true, is equally applicable to most, if not to all the State governments. There can be no objection, therefore, on this account, to the federal judicature which will not lie against the local judicatures in general, and which will not serve to condemn every constitution that attempts to set bounds to legislative discretion. But perhaps the force of the objection may be thought to consist in the particular organization of the Supreme Court; in its being composed of a distinct body of magistrates, instead of being one of the branches of the legislature, as in the government of Great Britain and that of the State. To insist upon this point, the authors of the objection must renounce the meaning they have labored to annex to the celebrated maxim, requiring a separation of the departments of power. It shall, nevertheless, be conceded to them, agreeably to the interpretation given to that maxim in the course of these papers, that it is not violated by vesting the ultimate power of judging in a PART of the legislative body. But though this be not an absolute violation of that excellent rule, yet it verges so nearly upon it, as on this account alone to be less eligible than the mode preferred by the convention. From a body which had even a partial agency in passing bad laws, we could rarely expect a disposition to temper and moderate them in the application. The same spirit which had operated in making them, would be too apt in interpreting them; still less could it be expected that men who had infringed the Constitution in the character of legislators, would be disposed to repair the breach in the character of judges. Nor is this all. Every reason which recommends the tenure of good behavior for judicial offices, militates against placing the judiciary power, in the last resort, in a body composed of men chosen for a limited period. There is an absurdity in referring the determination of causes, in the first instance, to judges of permanent standing; in the last, to those of a temporary and mutable constitution. And there is a still greater absurdity in subjecting the decisions of men, selected for their knowledge of the laws, acquired by long and laborious study, to the revision and control of men who, for want of the same advantage, cannot but be deficient in that knowledge. The members of the legislature will rarely be chosen with a view to those qualifications which fit men for the stations of judges; and as, on this account, there will be great reason to apprehend all the ill consequences of defective information, so, on account of the natural propensity of such bodies to party divisions, there will be no less reason to fear that the pestilential breath of faction may poison the fountains of justice. The habit of being continually marshalled on opposite sides will be too apt to stifle the voice both of law and of equity. These considerations teach us to applaud the wisdom of those States who have committed the judicial power, in the last resort, not to a part of the legislature, but to distinct and independent bodies of men. Contrary to the supposition of those who have represented the plan of the convention, in this respect, as novel and unprecedented, it is but a copy of the constitutions of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia; and the preference which has been given to those models is highly to be commended. It is not true, in the second place, that the Parliament of Great Britain, or the legislatures of the particular States, can rectify the exceptionable decisions of their respective courts, in any other sense than might be done by a future legislature of the United States. The theory, neither of the British, nor the State constitutions, authorizes the revisal of a judicial sentence by a legislative act. Nor is there any thing in the proposed Constitution, more than in either of them, by which it is forbidden. In the former, as well as in the latter, the impropriety of the thing, on the general principles of law and reason, is the sole obstacle. A legislature, without exceeding its province, cannot reverse a determination once made in a particular case; though it may prescribe a new rule for future cases. This is the principle, and it applies in all its consequences, exactly in the same manner and extent, to the State governments, as to the national government now under consideration. Not the least difference can be pointed out in any view of the subject. It may in the last place be observed that the supposed danger of judiciary encroachments on the legislative authority, which has been upon many occasions reiterated, is in reality a phantom. Particular misconstructions and contraventions of the will of the legislature may now and then happen; but they can never be so extensive as to amount to an inconvenience, or in any sensible degree to affect the order of the political system. This may be inferred with certainty, from the general nature of the judicial power, from the objects to which it relates, from the manner in which it is exercised, from its comparative weakness, and from its total incapacity to support its usurpations by force. And the inference is greatly fortified by the consideration of the important constitutional check which the power of instituting impeachments in one part of the legislative body, and of determining upon them in the other, would give to that body upon the members of the judicial department. This is alone a complete security. There never can be danger that the judges, by a series of deliberate usurpations on the authority of the legislature, would hazard the united resentment of the body intrusted with it, while this body was possessed of the means of punishing their presumption, by degrading them from their stations. While this ought to remove all apprehensions on the subject, it affords, at the same time, a cogent argument for constituting the Senate a court for the trial of impeachments. Having now examined, and, I trust, removed the objections to the distinct and independent organization of the Supreme Court, I proceed to consider the propriety of the power of constituting inferior courts,(2) and the relations which will subsist between these and the former. The power of constituting inferior courts is evidently calculated to obviate the necessity of having recourse to the Supreme Court in every case of federal cognizance. It is intended to enable the national government to institute or authorize, in each State or district of the United States, a tribunal competent to the determination of matters of national jurisdiction within its limits. But why, it is asked, might not the same purpose have been accomplished by the instrumentality of the State courts? This admits of different answers. Though the fitness and competency of those courts should be allowed in the utmost latitude, yet the substance of the power in question may still be regarded as a necessary part of the plan, if it were only to empower the national legislature to commit to them the cognizance of causes arising out of the national Constitution. To confer the power of determining such causes upon the existing courts of the several States, would perhaps be as much \"to constitute tribunals,\" as to create new courts with the like power. But ought not a more direct and explicit provision to have been made in favor of the State courts? There are, in my opinion, substantial reasons against such a provision: the most discerning cannot foresee how far the prevalency of a local spirit may be found to disqualify the local tribunals for the jurisdiction of national causes; whilst every man may discover, that courts constituted like those of some of the States would be improper channels of the judicial authority of the Union. State judges, holding their offices during pleasure, or from year to year, will be too little independent to be relied upon for an inflexible execution of the national laws. And if there was a necessity for confiding the original cognizance of causes arising under those laws to them there would be a correspondent necessity for leaving the door of appeal as wide as possible. In proportion to the grounds of confidence in, or distrust of, the subordinate tribunals, ought to be the facility or difficulty of appeals. And well satisfied as I am of the propriety of the appellate jurisdiction, in the several classes of causes to which it is extended by the plan of the convention. I should consider every thing calculated to give, in practice, an unrestrained course to appeals, as a source of public and private inconvenience. I am not sure, but that it will be found highly expedient and useful, to divide the United States into four or five or half a dozen districts; and to institute a federal court in each district, in lieu of one in every State. The judges of these courts, with the aid of the State judges, may hold circuits for the trial of causes in the several parts of the respective districts. Justice through them may be administered with ease and despatch; and appeals may be safely circumscribed within a narrow compass. This plan appears to me at present the most eligible of any that could be adopted; and in order to it, it is necessary that the power of constituting inferior courts should exist in the full extent in which it is to be found in the proposed Constitution. These reasons seem sufficient to satisfy a candid mind, that the want of such a power would have been a great defect in the plan. Let us now examine in what manner the judicial authority is to be distributed between the supreme and the inferior courts of the Union. The Supreme Court is to be invested with original jurisdiction, only \"in cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls, and those in which A STATE shall be a party.\" Public ministers of every class are the immediate representatives of their sovereigns. All questions in which they are concerned are so directly connected with the public peace, that, as well for the preservation of this, as out of respect to the sovereignties they represent, it is both expedient and proper that such questions should be submitted in the first instance to the highest judicatory of the nation. Though consuls have not in strictness a diplomatic character, yet as they are the public agents of the nations to which they belong, the same observation is in a great measure applicable to them. In cases in which a State might happen to be a party, it would ill suit its dignity to be turned over to an inferior tribunal. Though it may rather be a digression from the immediate subject of this paper, I shall take occasion to mention here a supposition which has excited some alarm upon very mistaken grounds. It has been suggested that an assignment of the public securities of one State to the citizens of another, would enable them to prosecute that State in the federal courts for the amount of those securities; a suggestion which the following considerations prove to be without foundation. It is inherent in the nature of sovereignty not to be amenable to the suit of an individual without its consent. This is the general sense, and the general practice of mankind; and the exemption, as one of the attributes of sovereignty, is now enjoyed by the government of every State in the Union. Unless, therefore, there is a surrender of this immunity in the plan of the convention, it will remain with the States, and the danger intimated must be merely ideal. The circumstances which are necessary to produce an alienation of State sovereignty were discussed in considering the article of taxation, and need not be repeated here. A recurrence to the principles there established will satisfy us, that there is no color to pretend that the State governments would, by the adoption of that plan, be divested of the privilege of paying their own debts in their own way, free from every constraint but that which flows from the obligations of good faith. The contracts between a nation and individuals are only binding on the conscience of the sovereign, and have no pretensions to a compulsive force. They confer no right of action, independent of the sovereign will. To what purpose would it be to authorize suits against States for the debts they owe? How could recoveries be enforced? It is evident, it could not be done without waging war against the contracting State; and to ascribe to the federal courts, by mere implication, and in destruction of a preexisting right of the State governments, a power which would involve such a consequence, would be altogether forced and unwarrantable. Let us resume the train of our observations. We have seen that the original jurisdiction of the Supreme Court would be confined to two classes of causes, and those of a nature rarely to occur. In all other cases of federal cognizance, the original jurisdiction would appertain to the inferior tribunals; and the Supreme Court would have nothing more than an appellate jurisdiction, \"with such exceptions and under such regulations as the Congress shall make.\" The propriety of this appellate jurisdiction has been scarcely called in question in regard to matters of law; but the clamors have been loud against it as applied to matters of fact. Some wellintentioned men in this State, deriving their notions from the language and forms which obtain in our courts, have been induced to consider it as an implied supersedure of the trial by jury, in favor of the civillaw mode of trial, which prevails in our courts of admiralty, probate, and chancery. A technical sense has been affixed to the term \"appellate,\" which, in our law parlance, is commonly used in reference to appeals in the course of the civil law. But if I am not misinformed, the same meaning would not be given to it in any part of New England. There an appeal from one jury to another, is familiar both in language and practice, and is even a matter of course, until there have been two verdicts on one side. The word \"appellate,\" therefore, will not be understood in the same sense in New England as in New York, which shows the impropriety of a technical interpretation derived from the jurisprudence of any particular State. The expression, taken in the abstract, denotes nothing more than the power of one tribunal to review the proceedings of another, either as to the law or fact, or both. The mode of doing it may depend on ancient custom or legislative provision (in a new government it must depend on the latter), and may be with or without the aid of a jury, as may be judged advisable. If, therefore, the reexamination of a fact once determined by a jury, should in any case be admitted under the proposed Constitution, it may be so regulated as to be done by a second jury, either by remanding the cause to the court below for a second trial of the fact, or by directing an issue immediately out of the Supreme Court. But it does not follow that the reexamination of a fact once ascertained by a jury, will be permitted in the Supreme Court. Why may not it be said, with the strictest propriety, when a writ of error is brought from an inferior to a superior court of law in this State, that the latter has jurisdiction of the fact as well as the law? It is true it cannot institute a new inquiry concerning the fact, but it takes cognizance of it as it appears upon the record, and pronounces the law arising upon it.(3) This is jurisdiction of both fact and law; nor is it even possible to separate them. Though the commonlaw courts of this State ascertain disputed facts by a jury, yet they unquestionably have jurisdiction of both fact and law; and accordingly when the former is agreed in the pleadings, they have no recourse to a jury, but proceed at once to judgment. I contend, therefore, on this ground, that the expressions, \"appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact,\" do not necessarily imply a reexamination in the Supreme Court of facts decided by juries in the inferior courts. The following train of ideas may well be imagined to have influenced the convention, in relation to this particular provision. The appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court (it may have been argued) will extend to causes determinable in different modes, some in the course of the COMMON LAW, others in the course of the CIVIL LAW. In the former, the revision of the law only will be, generally speaking, the proper province of the Supreme Court; in the latter, the reexamination of the fact is agreeable to usage, and in some cases, of which prize causes are an example, might be essential to the preservation of the public peace. It is therefore necessary that the appellate jurisdiction should, in certain cases, extend in the broadest sense to matters of fact. It will not answer to make an express exception of cases which shall have been originally tried by a jury, because in the courts of some of the States all causes are tried in this mode(4); and such an exception would preclude the revision of matters of fact, as well where it might be proper, as where it might be improper. To avoid all inconveniencies, it will be safest to declare generally, that the Supreme Court shall possess appellate jurisdiction both as to law and fact, and that this jurisdiction shall be subject to such exceptions and regulations as the national legislature may prescribe. This will enable the government to modify it in such a manner as will best answer the ends of public justice and security. This view of the matter, at any rate, puts it out of all doubt that the supposed abolition of the trial by jury, by the operation of this provision, is fallacious and untrue. The legislature of the United States would certainly have full power to provide, that in appeals to the Supreme Court there should be no reexamination of facts where they had been tried in the original causes by juries. This would certainly be an authorized exception; but if, for the reason already intimated, it should be thought too extensive, it might be qualified with a limitation to such causes only as are determinable at common law in that mode of trial. The amount of the observations hitherto made on the authority of the judicial department is this: that it has been carefully restricted to those causes which are manifestly proper for the cognizance of the national judicature; that in the partition of this authority a very small portion of original jurisdiction has been preserved to the Supreme Court, and the rest consigned to the subordinate tribunals; that the Supreme Court will possess an appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact, in all the cases referred to them, both subject to any exceptions and regulations which may be thought advisable; that this appellate jurisdiction does, in no case, abolish the trial by jury; and that an ordinary degree of prudence and integrity in the national councils will insure us solid advantages from the establishment of the proposed judiciary, without exposing us to any of the inconveniences which have been predicted from that source. PUBLIUS 1. Article 3, Sec. 1. 2. This power has been absurdly represented as intended to abolish all the county courts in the several States, which are commonly called inferior courts. But the expressions of the Constitution are, to constitute \"tribunals INFERIOR TO THE SUPREME COURT\"; and the evident design of the provision is to enable the institution of local courts, subordinate to the Supreme, either in States or larger districts. It is ridiculous to imagine that county courts were in contemplation. 3. This word is composed of JUS and DICTIO, juris dictio or a speaking and pronouncing of the law. 4. I hold that the States will have concurrent jurisdiction with the subordinate federal judicatories, in many cases of federal cognizance, as will be explained in my next paper. FEDERALIST No. 82 The Judiciary Continued. From McLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE erection of a new government, whatever care or wisdom may distinguish the work, cannot fail to originate questions of intricacy and nicety; and these may, in a particular manner, be expected to flow from the establishment of a constitution founded upon the total or partial incorporation of a number of distinct sovereignties. 'Tis time only that can mature and perfect so compound a system, can liquidate the meaning of all the parts, and can adjust them to each other in a harmonious and consistent WHOLE. Such questions, accordingly, have arisen upon the plan proposed by the convention, and particularly concerning the judiciary department. The principal of these respect the situation of the State courts in regard to those causes which are to be submitted to federal jurisdiction. Is this to be exclusive, or are those courts to possess a concurrent jurisdiction? If the latter, in what relation will they stand to the national tribunals? These are inquiries which we meet with in the mouths of men of sense, and which are certainly entitled to attention. The principles established in a former paper(1) teach us that the States will retain all preexisting authorities which may not be exclusively delegated to the federal head; and that this exclusive delegation can only exist in one of three cases: where an exclusive authority is, in express terms, granted to the Union; or where a particular authority is granted to the Union, and the exercise of a like authority is prohibited to the States; or where an authority is granted to the Union, with which a similar authority in the States would be utterly incompatible. Though these principles may not apply with the same force to the judiciary as to the legislative power, yet I am inclined to think that they are, in the main, just with respect to the former, as well as the latter. And under this impression, I shall lay it down as a rule, that the State courts will retain the jurisdiction they now have, unless it appears to be taken away in one of the enumerated modes. The only thing in the proposed Constitution, which wears the appearance of confining the causes of federal cognizance to the federal courts, is contained in this passage: \"THE JUDICIAL POWER of the United States shall be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress shall from time to time ordain and establish.\" This might either be construed to signify, that the supreme and subordinate courts of the Union should alone have the power of deciding those causes to which their authority is to extend; or simply to denote, that the organs of the national judiciary should be one Supreme Court, and as many subordinate courts as Congress should think proper to appoint; or in other words, that the United States should exercise the judicial power with which they are to be invested, through one supreme tribunal, and a certain number of inferior ones, to be instituted by them. The first excludes, the last admits, the concurrent jurisdiction of the State tribunals; and as the first would amount to an alienation of State power by implication, the last appears to me the most natural and the most defensible construction. But this doctrine of concurrent jurisdiction is only clearly applicable to those descriptions of causes of which the State courts have previous cognizance. It is not equally evident in relation to cases which may grow out of, and be peculiar to, the Constitution to be established; for not to allow the State courts a right of jurisdiction in such cases, can hardly be considered as the abridgment of a preexisting authority. I mean not therefore to contend that the United States, in the course of legislation upon the objects intrusted to their direction, may not commit the decision of causes arising upon a particular regulation to the federal courts solely, if such a measure should be deemed expedient; but I hold that the State courts will be divested of no part of their primitive jurisdiction, further than may relate to an appeal; and I am even of opinion that in every case in which they were not expressly excluded by the future acts of the national legislature, they will of course take cognizance of the causes to which those acts may give birth. This I infer from the nature of judiciary power, and from the general genius of the system. The judiciary power of every government looks beyond its own local or municipal laws, and in civil cases lays hold of all subjects of litigation between parties within its jurisdiction, though the causes of dispute are relative to the laws of the most distant part of the globe. Those of Japan, not less than of New York, may furnish the objects of legal discussion to our courts. When in addition to this we consider the State governments and the national governments, as they truly are, in the light of kindred systems, and as parts of ONE WHOLE, the inference seems to be conclusive, that the State courts would have a concurrent jurisdiction in all cases arising under the laws of the Union, where it was not expressly prohibited. Here another question occurs: What relation would subsist between the national and State courts in these instances of concurrent jurisdiction? I answer, that an appeal would certainly lie from the latter, to the Supreme Court of the United States. The Constitution in direct terms gives an appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court in all the enumerated cases of federal cognizance in which it is not to have an original one, without a single expression to confine its operation to the inferior federal courts. The objects of appeal, not the tribunals from which it is to be made, are alone contemplated. From this circumstance, and from the reason of the thing, it ought to be construed to extend to the State tribunals. Either this must be the case, or the local courts must be excluded from a concurrent jurisdiction in matters of national concern, else the judiciary authority of the Union may be eluded at the pleasure of every plaintiff or prosecutor. Neither of these consequences ought, without evident necessity, to be involved; the latter would be entirely inadmissible, as it would defeat some of the most important and avowed purposes of the proposed government, and would essentially embarrass its measures. Nor do I perceive any foundation for such a supposition. Agreeably to the remark already made, the national and State systems are to be regarded as ONE WHOLE. The courts of the latter will of course be natural auxiliaries to the execution of the laws of the Union, and an appeal from them will as naturally lie to that tribunal which is destined to unite and assimilate the principles of national justice and the rules of national decisions. The evident aim of the plan of the convention is, that all the causes of the specified classes shall, for weighty public reasons, receive their original or final determination in the courts of the Union. To confine, therefore, the general expressions giving appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court, to appeals from the subordinate federal courts, instead of allowing their extension to the State courts, would be to abridge the latitude of the terms, in subversion of the intent, contrary to every sound rule of interpretation. But could an appeal be made to lie from the State courts to the subordinate federal judicatories? This is another of the questions which have been raised, and of greater difficulty than the former. The following considerations countenance the affirmative. The plan of the convention, in the first place, authorizes the national legislature \"to constitute tribunals inferior to the Supreme Court.\"(2) It declares, in the next place, that \"the JUDICIAL POWER of the United States shall be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as Congress shall ordain and establish\"; and it then proceeds to enumerate the cases to which this judicial power shall extend. It afterwards divides the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court into original and appellate, but gives no definition of that of the subordinate courts. The only outlines described for them, are that they shall be \"inferior to the Supreme Court,\" and that they shall not exceed the specified limits of the federal judiciary. Whether their authority shall be original or appellate, or both, is not declared. All this seems to be left to the discretion of the legislature. And this being the case, I perceive at present no impediment to the establishment of an appeal from the State courts to the subordinate national tribunals; and many advantages attending the power of doing it may be imagined. It would diminish the motives to the multiplication of federal courts, and would admit of arrangements calculated to contract the appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. The State tribunals may then be left with a more entire charge of federal causes; and appeals, in most cases in which they may be deemed proper, instead of being carried to the Supreme Court, may be made to lie from the State courts to district courts of the Union. PUBLIUS 1. No. 31. 2. Sec. 8, Art. 1. FEDERALIST No. 83 The Judiciary Continued in Relation to Trial by Jury From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: THE objection to the plan of the convention, which has met with most success in this State, and perhaps in several of the other States, is that relative to the want of a constitutional provision for the trial by jury in civil cases. The disingenuous form in which this objection is usually stated has been repeatedly adverted to and exposed, but continues to be pursued in all the conversations and writings of the opponents of the plan. The mere silence of the Constitution in regard to civil causes, is represented as an abolition of the trial by jury, and the declamations to which it has afforded a pretext are artfully calculated to induce a persuasion that this pretended abolition is complete and universal, extending not only to every species of civil, but even to criminal causes. To argue with respect to the latter would, however, be as vain and fruitless as to attempt the serious proof of the existence of matter, or to demonstrate any of those propositions which, by their own internal evidence, force conviction, when expressed in language adapted to convey their meaning. With regard to civil causes, subtleties almost too contemptible for refutation have been employed to countenance the surmise that a thing which is only not provided for, is entirely abolished. Every man of discernment must at once perceive the wide difference between silence and abolition. But as the inventors of this fallacy have attempted to support it by certain legal maxims of interpretation, which they have perverted from their true meaning, it may not be wholly useless to explore the ground they have taken. The maxims on which they rely are of this nature: \"A specification of particulars is an exclusion of generals\"; or, \"The expression of one thing is the exclusion of another.\" Hence, say they, as the Constitution has established the trial by jury in criminal cases, and is silent in respect to civil, this silence is an implied prohibition of trial by jury in regard to the latter. The rules of legal interpretation are rules of common sense, adopted by the courts in the construction of the laws. The true test, therefore, of a just application of them is its conformity to the source from which they are derived. This being the case, let me ask if it is consistent with commonsense to suppose that a provision obliging the legislative power to commit the trial of criminal causes to juries, is a privation of its right to authorize or permit that mode of trial in other cases? Is it natural to suppose, that a command to do one thing is a prohibition to the doing of another, which there was a previous power to do, and which is not incompatible with the thing commanded to be done? If such a supposition would be unnatural and unreasonable, it cannot be rational to maintain that an injunction of the trial by jury in certain cases is an interdiction of it in others. A power to constitute courts is a power to prescribe the mode of trial; and consequently, if nothing was said in the Constitution on the subject of juries, the legislature would be at liberty either to adopt that institution or to let it alone. This discretion, in regard to criminal causes, is abridged by the express injunction of trial by jury in all such cases; but it is, of course, left at large in relation to civil causes, there being a total silence on this head. The specification of an obligation to try all criminal causes in a particular mode, excludes indeed the obligation or necessity of employing the same mode in civil causes, but does not abridge the power of the legislature to exercise that mode if it should be thought proper. The pretense, therefore, that the national legislature would not be at full liberty to submit all the civil causes of federal cognizance to the determination of juries, is a pretense destitute of all just foundation. From these observations this conclusion results: that the trial by jury in civil cases would not be abolished; and that the use attempted to be made of the maxims which have been quoted, is contrary to reason and commonsense, and therefore not admissible. Even if these maxims had a precise technical sense, corresponding with the idea of those who employ them upon the present occasion, which, however, is not the case, they would still be inapplicable to a constitution of government. In relation to such a subject, the natural and obvious sense of its provisions, apart from any technical rules, is the true criterion of construction. Having now seen that the maxims relied upon will not bear the use made of them, let us endeavor to ascertain their proper use and true meaning. This will be best done by examples. The plan of the convention declares that the power of Congress, or, in other words, of the national legislature, shall extend to certain enumerated cases. This specification of particulars evidently excludes all pretension to a general legislative authority, because an affirmative grant of special powers would be absurd, as well as useless, if a general authority was intended. In like manner the judicial authority of the federal judicatures is declared by the Constitution to comprehend certain cases particularly specified. The expression of those cases marks the precise limits, beyond which the federal courts cannot extend their jurisdiction, because the objects of their cognizance being enumerated, the specification would be nugatory if it did not exclude all ideas of more extensive authority. These examples are sufficient to elucidate the maxims which have been mentioned, and to designate the manner in which they should be used. But that there may be no misapprehensions upon this subject, I shall add one case more, to demonstrate the proper use of these maxims, and the abuse which has been made of them. Let us suppose that by the laws of this State a married woman was incapable of conveying her estate, and that the legislature, considering this as an evil, should enact that she might dispose of her property by deed executed in the presence of a magistrate. In such a case there can be no doubt but the specification would amount to an exclusion of any other mode of conveyance, because the woman having no previous power to alienate her property, the specification determines the particular mode which she is, for that purpose, to avail herself of. But let us further suppose that in a subsequent part of the same act it should be declared that no woman should dispose of any estate of a determinate value without the consent of three of her nearest relations, signified by their signing the deed; could it be inferred from this regulation that a married woman might not procure the approbation of her relations to a deed for conveying property of inferior value? The position is too absurd to merit a refutation, and yet this is precisely the position which those must establish who contend that the trial by juries in civil cases is abolished, because it is expressly provided for in cases of a criminal nature. From these observations it must appear unquestionably true, that trial by jury is in no case abolished by the proposed Constitution, and it is equally true, that in those controversies between individuals in which the great body of the people are likely to be interested, that institution will remain precisely in the same situation in which it is placed by the State constitutions, and will be in no degree altered or influenced by the adoption of the plan under consideration. The foundation of this assertion is, that the national judiciary will have no cognizance of them, and of course they will remain determinable as heretofore by the State courts only, and in the manner which the State constitutions and laws prescribe. All land causes, except where claims under the grants of different States come into question, and all other controversies between the citizens of the same State, unless where they depend upon positive violations of the articles of union, by acts of the State legislatures, will belong exclusively to the jurisdiction of the State tribunals. Add to this, that admiralty causes, and almost all those which are of equity jurisdiction, are determinable under our own government without the intervention of a jury, and the inference from the whole will be, that this institution, as it exists with us at present, cannot possibly be affected to any great extent by the proposed alteration in our system of government. The friends and adversaries of the plan of the convention, if they agree in nothing else, concur at least in the value they set upon the trial by jury; or if there is any difference between them it consists in this: the former regard it as a valuable safeguard to liberty; the latter represent it as the very palladium of free government. For my own part, the more the operation of the institution has fallen under my observation, the more reason I have discovered for holding it in high estimation; and it would be altogether superfluous to examine to what extent it deserves to be esteemed useful or essential in a representative republic, or how much more merit it may be entitled to, as a defense against the oppressions of an hereditary monarch, than as a barrier to the tyranny of popular magistrates in a popular government. Discussions of this kind would be more curious than beneficial, as all are satisfied of the utility of the institution, and of its friendly aspect to liberty. But I must acknowledge that I cannot readily discern the inseparable connection between the existence of liberty, and the trial by jury in civil cases. Arbitrary impeachments, arbitrary methods of prosecuting pretended offenses, and arbitrary punishments upon arbitrary convictions, have ever appeared to me to be the great engines of judicial despotism; and these have all relation to criminal proceedings. The trial by jury in criminal cases, aided by the habeas corpus act, seems therefore to be alone concerned in the question. And both of these are provided for, in the most ample manner, in the plan of the convention. It has been observed, that trial by jury is a safeguard against an oppressive exercise of the power of taxation. This observation deserves to be canvassed. It is evident that it can have no influence upon the legislature, in regard to the amount of taxes to be laid, to the objects upon which they are to be imposed, or to the rule by which they are to be apportioned. If it can have any influence, therefore, it must be upon the mode of collection, and the conduct of the officers intrusted with the execution of the revenue laws. As to the mode of collection in this State, under our own Constitution, the trial by jury is in most cases out of use. The taxes are usually levied by the more summary proceeding of distress and sale, as in cases of rent. And it is acknowledged on all hands, that this is essential to the efficacy of the revenue laws. The dilatory course of a trial at law to recover the taxes imposed on individuals, would neither suit the exigencies of the public nor promote the convenience of the citizens. It would often occasion an accumulation of costs, more burdensome than the original sum of the tax to be levied. And as to the conduct of the officers of the revenue, the provision in favor of trial by jury in criminal cases, will afford the security aimed at. Wilful abuses of a public authority, to the oppression of the subject, and every species of official extortion, are offenses against the government, for which the persons who commit them may be indicted and punished according to the circumstances of the case. The excellence of the trial by jury in civil cases appears to depend on circumstances foreign to the preservation of liberty. The strongest argument in its favor is, that it is a security against corruption. As there is always more time and better opportunity to tamper with a standing body of magistrates than with a jury summoned for the occasion, there is room to suppose that a corrupt influence would more easily find its way to the former than to the latter. The force of this consideration is, however, diminished by others. The sheriff, who is the summoner of ordinary juries, and the clerks of courts, who have the nomination of special juries, are themselves standing officers, and, acting individually, may be supposed more accessible to the touch of corruption than the judges, who are a collective body. It is not difficult to see, that it would be in the power of those officers to select jurors who would serve the purpose of the party as well as a corrupted bench. In the next place, it may fairly be supposed, that there would be less difficulty in gaining some of the jurors promiscuously taken from the public mass, than in gaining men who had been chosen by the government for their probity and good character. But making every deduction for these considerations, the trial by jury must still be a valuable check upon corruption. It greatly multiplies the impediments to its success. As matters now stand, it would be necessary to corrupt both court and jury; for where the jury have gone evidently wrong, the court will generally grant a new trial, and it would be in most cases of little use to practice upon the jury, unless the court could be likewise gained. Here then is a double security; and it will readily be perceived that this complicated agency tends to preserve the purity of both institutions. By increasing the obstacles to success, it discourages attempts to seduce the integrity of either. The temptations to prostitution which the judges might have to surmount, must certainly be much fewer, while the cooperation of a jury is necessary, than they might be, if they had themselves the exclusive determination of all causes. Notwithstanding, therefore, the doubts I have expressed, as to the essentiality of trial by jury in civil cases to liberty, I admit that it is in most cases, under proper regulations, an excellent method of determining questions of property; and that on this account alone it would be entitled to a constitutional provision in its favor if it were possible to fix the limits within which it ought to be comprehended. There is, however, in all cases, great difficulty in this; and men not blinded by enthusiasm must be sensible that in a federal government, which is a composition of societies whose ideas and institutions in relation to the matter materially vary from each other, that difficulty must be not a little augmented. For my own part, at every new view I take of the subject, I become more convinced of the reality of the obstacles which, we are authoritatively informed, prevented the insertion of a provision on this head in the plan of the convention. The great difference between the limits of the jury trial in different States is not generally understood; and as it must have considerable influence on the sentence we ought to pass upon the omission complained of in regard to this point, an explanation of it is necessary. In this State, our judicial establishments resemble, more nearly than in any other, those of Great Britain. We have courts of common law, courts of probates (analogous in certain matters to the spiritual courts in England), a court of admiralty and a court of chancery. In the courts of common law only, the trial by jury prevails, and this with some exceptions. In all the others a single judge presides, and proceeds in general either according to the course of the canon or civil law, without the aid of a jury.(1) In New Jersey, there is a court of chancery which proceeds like ours, but neither courts of admiralty nor of probates, in the sense in which these last are established with us. In that State the courts of common law have the cognizance of those causes which with us are determinable in the courts of admiralty and of probates, and of course the jury trial is more extensive in New Jersey than in New York. In Pennsylvania, this is perhaps still more the case, for there is no court of chancery in that State, and its commonlaw courts have equity jurisdiction. It has a court of admiralty, but none of probates, at least on the plan of ours. Delaware has in these respects imitated Pennsylvania. Maryland approaches more nearly to New York, as does also Virginia, except that the latter has a plurality of chancellors. North Carolina bears most affinity to Pennsylvania; South Carolina to Virginia. I believe, however, that in some of those States which have distinct courts of admiralty, the causes depending in them are triable by juries. In Georgia there are none but commonlaw courts, and an appeal of course lies from the verdict of one jury to another, which is called a special jury, and for which a particular mode of appointment is marked out. In Connecticut, they have no distinct courts either of chancery or of admiralty, and their courts of probates have no jurisdiction of causes. Their commonlaw courts have admiralty and, to a certain extent, equity jurisdiction. In cases of importance, their General Assembly is the only court of chancery. In Connecticut, therefore, the trial by jury extends in practice further than in any other State yet mentioned. Rhode Island is, I believe, in this particular, pretty much in the situation of Connecticut. Massachusetts and New Hampshire, in regard to the blending of law, equity, and admiralty jurisdictions, are in a similar predicament. In the four Eastern States, the trial by jury not only stands upon a broader foundation than in the other States, but it is attended with a peculiarity unknown, in its full extent, to any of them. There is an appeal of course from one jury to another, till there have been two verdicts out of three on one side. From this sketch it appears that there is a material diversity, as well in the modification as in the extent of the institution of trial by jury in civil cases, in the several States; and from this fact these obvious reflections flow: first, that no general rule could have been fixed upon by the convention which would have corresponded with the circumstances of all the States; and secondly, that more or at least as much might have been hazarded by taking the system of any one State for a standard, as by omitting a provision altogether and leaving the matter, as has been done, to legislative regulation. The propositions which have been made for supplying the omission have rather served to illustrate than to obviate the difficulty of the thing. The minority of Pennsylvania have proposed this mode of expression for the purpose\"Trial by jury shall be as heretofore\"and this I maintain would be senseless and nugatory. The United States, in their united or collective capacity, are the OBJECT to which all general provisions in the Constitution must necessarily be construed to refer. Now it is evident that though trial by jury, with various limitations, is known in each State individually, yet in the United States, as such, it is at this time altogether unknown, because the present federal government has no judiciary power whatever; and consequently there is no proper antecedent or previous establishment to which the term heretofore could relate. It would therefore be destitute of a precise meaning, and inoperative from its uncertainty. As, on the one hand, the form of the provision would not fulfil the intent of its proposers, so, on the other, if I apprehend that intent rightly, it would be in itself inexpedient. I presume it to be, that causes in the federal courts should be tried by jury, if, in the State where the courts sat, that mode of trial would obtain in a similar case in the State courts; that is to say, admiralty causes should be tried in Connecticut by a jury, in New York without one. The capricious operation of so dissimilar a method of trial in the same cases, under the same government, is of itself sufficient to indispose every wellregulated judgment towards it. Whether the cause should be tried with or without a jury, would depend, in a great number of cases, on the accidental situation of the court and parties. But this is not, in my estimation, the greatest objection. I feel a deep and deliberate conviction that there are many cases in which the trial by jury is an ineligible one. I think it so particularly in cases which concern the public peace with foreign nationsthat is, in most cases where the question turns wholly on the laws of nations. Of this nature, among others, are all prize causes. Juries cannot be supposed competent to investigations that require a thorough knowledge of the laws and usages of nations; and they will sometimes be under the influence of impressions which will not suffer them to pay sufficient regard to those considerations of public policy which ought to guide their inquiries. There would of course be always danger that the rights of other nations might be infringed by their decisions, so as to afford occasions of reprisal and war. Though the proper province of juries be to determine matters of fact, yet in most cases legal consequences are complicated with fact in such a manner as to render a separation impracticable. It will add great weight to this remark, in relation to prize causes, to mention that the method of determining them has been thought worthy of particular regulation in various treaties between different powers of Europe, and that, pursuant to such treaties, they are determinable in Great Britain, in the last resort, before the king himself, in his privy council, where the fact, as well as the law, undergoes a reexamination. This alone demonstrates the impolicy of inserting a fundamental provision in the Constitution which would make the State systems a standard for the national government in the article under consideration, and the danger of encumbering the government with any constitutional provisions the propriety of which is not indisputable. My convictions are equally strong that great advantages result from the separation of the equity from the law jurisdiction, and that the causes which belong to the former would be improperly committed to juries. The great and primary use of a court of equity is to give relief in extraordinary cases, which are exceptions(2) to general rules. To unite the jurisdiction of such cases with the ordinary jurisdiction, must have a tendency to unsettle the general rules, and to subject every case that arises to a special determination; while a separation of the one from the other has the contrary effect of rendering one a sentinel over the other, and of keeping each within the expedient limits. Besides this, the circumstances that constitute cases proper for courts of equity are in many instances so nice and intricate, that they are incompatible with the genius of trials by jury. They require often such long, deliberate, and critical investigation as would be impracticable to men called from their occupations, and obliged to decide before they were permitted to return to them. The simplicity and expedition which form the distinguishing characters of this mode of trial require that the matter to be decided should be reduced to some single and obvious point; while the litigations usual in chancery frequently comprehend a long train of minute and independent particulars. It is true that the separation of the equity from the legal jurisdiction is peculiar to the English system of jurisprudence: which is the model that has been followed in several of the States. But it is equally true that the trial by jury has been unknown in every case in which they have been united. And the separation is essential to the preservation of that institution in its pristine purity. The nature of a court of equity will readily permit the extension of its jurisdiction to matters of law; but it is not a little to be suspected, that the attempt to extend the jurisdiction of the courts of law to matters of equity will not only be unproductive of the advantages which may be derived from courts of chancery, on the plan upon which they are established in this State, but will tend gradually to change the nature of the courts of law, and to undermine the trial by jury, by introducing questions too complicated for a decision in that mode. These appeared to be conclusive reasons against incorporating the systems of all the States, in the formation of the national judiciary, according to what may be conjectured to have been the attempt of the Pennsylvania minority. Let us now examine how far the proposition of Massachusetts is calculated to remedy the supposed defect. It is in this form: \"In civil actions between citizens of different States, every issue of fact, arising in actions at common law, may be tried by a jury if the parties, or either of them request it.\" This, at best, is a proposition confined to one description of causes; and the inference is fair, either that the Massachusetts convention considered that as the only class of federal causes, in which the trial by jury would be proper; or that if desirous of a more extensive provision, they found it impracticable to devise one which would properly answer the end. If the first, the omission of a regulation respecting so partial an object can never be considered as a material imperfection in the system. If the last, it affords a strong corroboration of the extreme difficulty of the thing. But this is not all: if we advert to the observations already made respecting the courts that subsist in the several States of the Union, and the different powers exercised by them, it will appear that there are no expressions more vague and indeterminate than those which have been employed to characterize that species of causes which it is intended shall be entitled to a trial by jury. In this State, the boundaries between actions at common law and actions of equitable jurisdiction, are ascertained in conformity to the rules which prevail in England upon that subject. In many of the other States the boundaries are less precise. In some of them every cause is to be tried in a court of common law, and upon that foundation every action may be considered as an action at common law, to be determined by a jury, if the parties, or either of them, choose it. Hence the same irregularity and confusion would be introduced by a compliance with this proposition, that I have already noticed as resulting from the regulation proposed by the Pennsylvania minority. In one State a cause would receive its determination from a jury, if the parties, or either of them, requested it; but in another State, a cause exactly similar to the other, must be decided without the intervention of a jury, because the State judicatories varied as to commonlaw jurisdiction. It is obvious, therefore, that the Massachusetts proposition, upon this subject cannot operate as a general regulation, until some uniform plan, with respect to the limits of commonlaw and equitable jurisdictions, shall be adopted by the different States. To devise a plan of that kind is a task arduous in itself, and which it would require much time and reflection to mature. It would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to suggest any general regulation that would be acceptable to all the States in the Union, or that would perfectly quadrate with the several State institutions. It may be asked, Why could not a reference have been made to the constitution of this State, taking that, which is allowed by me to be a good one, as a standard for the United States? I answer that it is not very probable the other States would entertain the same opinion of our institutions as we do ourselves. It is natural to suppose that they are hitherto more attached to their own, and that each would struggle for the preference. If the plan of taking one State as a model for the whole had been thought of in the convention, it is to be presumed that the adoption of it in that body would have been rendered difficult by the predilection of each representation in favor of its own government; and it must be uncertain which of the States would have been taken as the model. It has been shown that many of them would be improper ones. And I leave it to conjecture, whether, under all circumstances, it is most likely that New York, or some other State, would have been preferred. But admit that a judicious selection could have been effected in the convention, still there would have been great danger of jealousy and disgust in the other States, at the partiality which had been shown to the institutions of one. The enemies of the plan would have been furnished with a fine pretext for raising a host of local prejudices against it, which perhaps might have hazarded, in no inconsiderable degree, its final establishment. To avoid the embarrassments of a definition of the cases which the trial by jury ought to embrace, it is sometimes suggested by men of enthusiastic tempers, that a provision might have been inserted for establishing it in all cases whatsoever. For this I believe, no precedent is to be found in any member of the Union; and the considerations which have been stated in discussing the proposition of the minority of Pennsylvania, must satisfy every sober mind that the establishment of the trial by jury in all cases would have been an unpardonable error in the plan. In short, the more it is considered the more arduous will appear the task of fashioning a provision in such a form as not to express too little to answer the purpose, or too much to be advisable; or which might not have opened other sources of opposition to the great and essential object of introducing a firm national government. I cannot but persuade myself, on the other hand, that the different lights in which the subject has been placed in the course of these observations, will go far towards removing in candid minds the apprehensions they may have entertained on the point. They have tended to show that the security of liberty is materially concerned only in the trial by jury in criminal cases, which is provided for in the most ample manner in the plan of the convention; that even in far the greatest proportion of civil cases, and those in which the great body of the community is interested, that mode of trial will remain in its full force, as established in the State constitutions, untouched and unaffected by the plan of the convention; that it is in no case abolished(3) by that plan; and that there are great if not insurmountable difficulties in the way of making any precise and proper provision for it in a Constitution for the United States. The best judges of the matter will be the least anxious for a constitutional establishment of the trial by jury in civil cases, and will be the most ready to admit that the changes which are continually happening in the affairs of society may render a different mode of determining questions of property preferable in many cases in which that mode of trial now prevails. For my part, I acknowledge myself to be convinced that even in this State it might be advantageously extended to some cases to which it does not at present apply, and might as advantageously be abridged in others. It is conceded by all reasonable men that it ought not to obtain in all cases. The examples of innovations which contract its ancient limits, as well in these States as in Great Britain, afford a strong presumption that its former extent has been found inconvenient, and give room to suppose that future experience may discover the propriety and utility of other exceptions. I suspect it to be impossible in the nature of the thing to fix the salutary point at which the operation of the institution ought to stop, and this is with me a strong argument for leaving the matter to the discretion of the legislature. This is now clearly understood to be the case in Great Britain, and it is equally so in the State of Connecticut; and yet it may be safely affirmed that more numerous encroachments have been made upon the trial by jury in this State since the Revolution, though provided for by a positive article of our constitution, than has happened in the same time either in Connecticut or Great Britain. It may be added that these encroachments have generally originated with the men who endeavor to persuade the people they are the warmest defenders of popular liberty, but who have rarely suffered constitutional obstacles to arrest them in a favorite career. The truth is that the general GENIUS of a government is all that can be substantially relied upon for permanent effects. Particular provisions, though not altogether useless, have far less virtue and efficacy than are commonly ascribed to them; and the want of them will never be, with men of sound discernment, a decisive objection to any plan which exhibits the leading characters of a good government. It certainly sounds not a little harsh and extraordinary to affirm that there is no security for liberty in a Constitution which expressly establishes the trial by jury in criminal cases, because it does not do it in civil also; while it is a notorious fact that Connecticut, which has been always regarded as the most popular State in the Union, can boast of no constitutional provision for either. PUBLIUS 1. It has been erroneously insinuated with regard to the court of chancery, that this court generally tries disputed facts by a jury. The truth is, that references to a jury in that court rarely happen, and are in no case necessary but where the validity of a devise of land comes into question. 2. It is true that the principles by which that relief is governed are now reduced to a regular system; but it is not the less true that they are in the main applicable to SPECIAL circumstances, which form exceptions to general rules. 3. Vide No. 81, in which the supposition of its being abolished by the appellate jurisdiction in matters of fact being vested in the Supreme Court, is examined and refuted. FEDERALIST No. 84 Certain General and Miscellaneous Objections to the Constitution Considered and Answered. From McLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: IN THE course of the foregoing review of the Constitution, I have taken notice of, and endeavored to answer most of the objections which have appeared against it. There, however, remain a few which either did not fall naturally under any particular head or were forgotten in their proper places. These shall now be discussed; but as the subject has been drawn into great length, I shall so far consult brevity as to comprise all my observations on these miscellaneous points in a single paper. The most considerable of the remaining objections is that the plan of the convention contains no bill of rights. Among other answers given to this, it has been upon different occasions remarked that the constitutions of several of the States are in a similar predicament. I add that New York is of the number. And yet the opposers of the new system, in this State, who profess an unlimited admiration for its constitution, are among the most intemperate partisans of a bill of rights. To justify their zeal in this matter, they allege two things: one is that, though the constitution of New York has no bill of rights prefixed to it, yet it contains, in the body of it, various provisions in favor of particular privileges and rights, which, in substance amount to the same thing; the other is, that the Constitution adopts, in their full extent, the common and statute law of Great Britain, by which many other rights, not expressed in it, are equally secured. To the first I answer, that the Constitution proposed by the convention contains, as well as the constitution of this State, a number of such provisions. Independent of those which relate to the structure of the government, we find the following: Article 1, section 3, clause 7\"Judgment in cases of impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust, or profit under the United States; but the party convicted shall, nevertheless, be liable and subject to indictment, trial, judgment, and punishment according to law.\" Section 9, of the same article, clause 2\"The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it.\" Clause 3\"No bill of attainder or expostfacto law shall be passed.\" Clause 7\"No title of nobility shall be granted by the United States; and no person holding any office of profit or trust under them, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state.\" Article 3, section 2, clause 3\"The trial of all crimes, except in cases of impeachment, shall be by jury; and such trial shall be held in the State where the said crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the trial shall be at such place or places as the Congress may by law have directed.\" Section 3, of the same article\"Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason, unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court.\" And clause 3, of the same section\"The Congress shall have power to declare the punishment of treason; but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of blood, or forfeiture, except during the life of the person attainted.\" It may well be a question, whether these are not, upon the whole, of equal importance with any which are to be found in the constitution of this State. The establishment of the writ of habeas corpus, the prohibition of ex post facto laws, and of TITLES OF NOBILITY, to which we have no corresponding provision in our Constitution, are perhaps greater securities to liberty and republicanism than any it contains. The creation of crimes after the commission of the fact, or, in other words, the subjecting of men to punishment for things which, when they were done, were breaches of no law, and the practice of arbitrary imprisonments, have been, in all ages, the favorite and most formidable instruments of tyranny. The observations of the judicious Blackstone,(1) in reference to the latter, are well worthy of recital: \"To bereave a man of life, (says he) or by violence to confiscate his estate, without accusation or trial, would be so gross and notorious an act of despotism, as must at once convey the alarm of tyranny throughout the whole nation; but confinement of the person, by secretly hurrying him to jail, where his sufferings are unknown or forgotten, is a less public, a less striking, and therefore a more dangerous engine of arbitrary government.\" And as a remedy for this fatal evil he is everywhere peculiarly emphatical in his encomiums on the habeas corpus act, which in one place he calls \"the BULWARK of the British Constitution.\"(2) Nothing need be said to illustrate the importance of the prohibition of titles of nobility. This may truly be denominated the cornerstone of republican government; for so long as they are excluded, there can never be serious danger that the government will be any other than that of the people. To the second that is, to the pretended establishment of the common and state law by the Constitution, I answer, that they are expressly made subject \"to such alterations and provisions as the legislature shall from time to time make concerning the same.\" They are therefore at any moment liable to repeal by the ordinary legislative power, and of course have no constitutional sanction. The only use of the declaration was to recognize the ancient law and to remove doubts which might have been occasioned by the Revolution. This consequently can be considered as no part of a declaration of rights, which under our constitutions must be intended as limitations of the power of the government itself. It has been several times truly remarked that bills of rights are, in their origin, stipulations between kings and their subjects, abridgements of prerogative in favor of privilege, reservations of rights not surrendered to the prince. Such was MAGNA CHARTA, obtained by the barons, sword in hand, from King John. Such were the subsequent confirmations of that charter by succeeding princes. Such was the Petition of Right assented to by Charles I., in the beginning of his reign. Such, also, was the Declaration of Right presented by the Lords and Commons to the Prince of Orange in 1688, and afterwards thrown into the form of an act of parliament called the Bill of Rights. It is evident, therefore, that, according to their primitive signification, they have no application to constitutions professedly founded upon the power of the people, and executed by their immediate representatives and servants. Here, in strictness, the people surrender nothing; and as they retain every thing they have no need of particular reservations. \"WE, THE PEOPLE of the United States, to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.\" Here is a better recognition of popular rights, than volumes of those aphorisms which make the principal figure in several of our State bills of rights, and which would sound much better in a treatise of ethics than in a constitution of government. But a minute detail of particular rights is certainly far less applicable to a Constitution like that under consideration, which is merely intended to regulate the general political interests of the nation, than to a constitution which has the regulation of every species of personal and private concerns. If, therefore, the loud clamors against the plan of the convention, on this score, are well founded, no epithets of reprobation will be too strong for the constitution of this State. But the truth is, that both of them contain all which, in relation to their objects, is reasonably to be desired. I go further, and affirm that bills of rights, in the sense and to the extent in which they are contended for, are not only unnecessary in the proposed Constitution, but would even be dangerous. They would contain various exceptions to powers not granted; and, on this very account, would afford a colorable pretext to claim more than were granted. For why declare that things shall not be done which there is no power to do? Why, for instance, should it be said that the liberty of the press shall not be restrained, when no power is given by which restrictions may be imposed? I will not contend that such a provision would confer a regulating power; but it is evident that it would furnish, to men disposed to usurp, a plausible pretense for claiming that power. They might urge with a semblance of reason, that the Constitution ought not to be charged with the absurdity of providing against the abuse of an authority which was not given, and that the provision against restraining the liberty of the press afforded a clear implication, that a power to prescribe proper regulations concerning it was intended to be vested in the national government. This may serve as a specimen of the numerous handles which would be given to the doctrine of constructive powers, by the indulgence of an injudicious zeal for bills of rights. On the subject of the liberty of the press, as much as has been said, I cannot forbear adding a remark or two: in the first place, I observe, that there is not a syllable concerning it in the constitution of this State; in the next, I contend, that whatever has been said about it in that of any other State, amounts to nothing. What signifies a declaration, that \"the liberty of the press shall be inviolably preserved\"? What is the liberty of the press? Who can give it any definition which would not leave the utmost latitude for evasion? I hold it to be impracticable; and from this I infer, that its security, whatever fine declarations may be inserted in any constitution respecting it, must altogether depend on public opinion, and on the general spirit of the people and of the government.(3) And here, after all, as is intimated upon another occasion, must we seek for the only solid basis of all our rights. There remains but one other view of this matter to conclude the point. The truth is, after all the declamations we have heard, that the Constitution is itself, in every rational sense, and to every useful purpose, A BILL OF RIGHTS. The several bills of rights in Great Britain form its Constitution, and conversely the constitution of each State is its bill of rights. And the proposed Constitution, if adopted, will be the bill of rights of the Union. Is it one object of a bill of rights to declare and specify the political privileges of the citizens in the structure and administration of the government? This is done in the most ample and precise manner in the plan of the convention; comprehending various precautions for the public security, which are not to be found in any of the State constitutions. Is another object of a bill of rights to define certain immunities and modes of proceeding, which are relative to personal and private concerns? This we have seen has also been attended to, in a variety of cases, in the same plan. Adverting therefore to the substantial meaning of a bill of rights, it is absurd to allege that it is not to be found in the work of the convention. It may be said that it does not go far enough, though it will not be easy to make this appear; but it can with no propriety be contended that there is no such thing. It certainly must be immaterial what mode is observed as to the order of declaring the rights of the citizens, if they are to be found in any part of the instrument which establishes the government. And hence it must be apparent, that much of what has been said on this subject rests merely on verbal and nominal distinctions, entirely foreign from the substance of the thing. Another objection which has been made, and which, from the frequency of its repetition, it is to be presumed is relied on, is of this nature: \"It is improper (say the objectors) to confer such large powers, as are proposed, upon the national government, because the seat of that government must of necessity be too remote from many of the States to admit of a proper knowledge on the part of the constituent, of the conduct of the representative body.\" This argument, if it proves any thing, proves that there ought to be no general government whatever. For the powers which, it seems to be agreed on all hands, ought to be vested in the Union, cannot be safely intrusted to a body which is not under every requisite control. But there are satisfactory reasons to show that the objection is in reality not well founded. There is in most of the arguments which relate to distance a palpable illusion of the imagination. What are the sources of information by which the people in Montgomery County must regulate their judgment of the conduct of their representatives in the State legislature? Of personal observation they can have no benefit. This is confined to the citizens on the spot. They must therefore depend on the information of intelligent men, in whom they confide; and how must these men obtain their information? Evidently from the complexion of public measures, from the public prints, from correspondences with their representatives, and with other persons who reside at the place of their deliberations. This does not apply to Montgomery County only, but to all the counties at any considerable distance from the seat of government. It is equally evident that the same sources of information would be open to the people in relation to the conduct of their representatives in the general government, and the impediments to a prompt communication which distance may be supposed to create, will be overbalanced by the effects of the vigilance of the State governments. The executive and legislative bodies of each State will be so many sentinels over the persons employed in every department of the national administration; and as it will be in their power to adopt and pursue a regular and effectual system of intelligence, they can never be at a loss to know the behavior of those who represent their constituents in the national councils, and can readily communicate the same knowledge to the people. Their disposition to apprise the community of whatever may prejudice its interests from another quarter, may be relied upon, if it were only from the rivalship of power. And we may conclude with the fullest assurance that the people, through that channel, will be better informed of the conduct of their national representatives, than they can be by any means they now possess of that of their State representatives. It ought also to be remembered that the citizens who inhabit the country at and near the seat of government will, in all questions that affect the general liberty and prosperity, have the same interest with those who are at a distance, and that they will stand ready to sound the alarm when necessary, and to point out the actors in any pernicious project. The public papers will be expeditious messengers of intelligence to the most remote inhabitants of the Union. Among the many curious objections which have appeared against the proposed Constitution, the most extraordinary and the least colorable is derived from the want of some provision respecting the debts due to the United States. This has been represented as a tacit relinquishment of those debts, and as a wicked contrivance to screen public defaulters. The newspapers have teemed with the most inflammatory railings on this head; yet there is nothing clearer than that the suggestion is entirely void of foundation, the offspring of extreme ignorance or extreme dishonesty. In addition to the remarks I have made upon the subject in another place, I shall only observe that as it is a plain dictate of commonsense, so it is also an established doctrine of political law, that \"States neither lose any of their rights, nor are discharged from any of their obligations, by a change in the form of their civil government.\"(4) The last objection of any consequence, which I at present recollect, turns upon the article of expense. If it were even true, that the adoption of the proposed government would occasion a considerable increase of expense, it would be an objection that ought to have no weight against the plan. The great bulk of the citizens of America are with reason convinced, that Union is the basis of their political happiness. Men of sense of all parties now, with few exceptions, agree that it cannot be preserved under the present system, nor without radical alterations; that new and extensive powers ought to be granted to the national head, and that these require a different organization of the federal governmenta single body being an unsafe depositary of such ample authorities. In conceding all this, the question of expense must be given up; for it is impossible, with any degree of safety, to narrow the foundation upon which the system is to stand. The two branches of the legislature are, in the first instance, to consist of only sixtyfive persons, which is the same number of which Congress, under the existing Confederation, may be composed. It is true that this number is intended to be increased; but this is to keep pace with the progress of the population and resources of the country. It is evident that a less number would, even in the first instance, have been unsafe, and that a continuance of the present number would, in a more advanced stage of population, be a very inadequate representation of the people. Whence is the dreaded augmentation of expense to spring? One source indicated, is the multiplication of offices under the new government. Let us examine this a little. It is evident that the principal departments of the administration under the present government, are the same which will be required under the new. There are now a Secretary of War, a Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a Secretary for Domestic Affairs, a Board of Treasury, consisting of three persons, a Treasurer, assistants, clerks, etc. These officers are indispensable under any system, and will suffice under the new as well as the old. As to ambassadors and other ministers and agents in foreign countries, the proposed Constitution can make no other difference than to render their characters, where they reside, more respectable, and their services more useful. As to persons to be employed in the collection of the revenues, it is unquestionably true that these will form a very considerable addition to the number of federal officers; but it will not follow that this will occasion an increase of public expense. It will be in most cases nothing more than an exchange of State for national officers. In the collection of all duties, for instance, the persons employed will be wholly of the latter description. The States individually will stand in no need of any for this purpose. What difference can it make in point of expense to pay officers of the customs appointed by the State or by the United States? There is no good reason to suppose that either the number or the salaries of the latter will be greater than those of the former. Where then are we to seek for those additional articles of expense which are to swell the account to the enormous size that has been represented to us? The chief item which occurs to me respects the support of the judges of the United States. I do not add the President, because there is now a president of Congress, whose expenses may not be far, if any thing, short of those which will be incurred on account of the President of the United States. The support of the judges will clearly be an extra expense, but to what extent will depend on the particular plan which may be adopted in regard to this matter. But upon no reasonable plan can it amount to a sum which will be an object of material consequence. Let us now see what there is to counterbalance any extra expense that may attend the establishment of the proposed government. The first thing which presents itself is that a great part of the business which now keeps Congress sitting through the year will be transacted by the President. Even the management of foreign negotiations will naturally devolve upon him, according to general principles concerted with the Senate, and subject to their final concurrence. Hence it is evident that a portion of the year will suffice for the session of both the Senate and the House of Representatives; we may suppose about a fourth for the latter and a third, or perhaps half, for the former. The extra business of treaties and appointments may give this extra occupation to the Senate. From this circumstance we may infer that, until the House of Representatives shall be increased greatly beyond its present number, there will be a considerable saving of expense from the difference between the constant session of the present and the temporary session of the future Congress. But there is another circumstance of great importance in the view of economy. The business of the United States has hitherto occupied the State legislatures, as well as Congress. The latter has made requisitions which the former have had to provide for. Hence it has happened that the sessions of the State legislatures have been protracted greatly beyond what was necessary for the execution of the mere local business of the States. More than half their time has been frequently employed in matters which related to the United States. Now the members who compose the legislatures of the several States amount to two thousand and upwards, which number has hitherto performed what under the new system will be done in the first instance by sixtyfive persons, and probably at no future period by above a fourth or fifth of that number. The Congress under the proposed government will do all the business of the United States themselves, without the intervention of the State legislatures, who thenceforth will have only to attend to the affairs of their particular States, and will not have to sit in any proportion as long as they have heretofore done. This difference in the time of the sessions of the State legislatures will be clear gain, and will alone form an article of saving, which may be regarded as an equivalent for any additional objects of expense that may be occasioned by the adoption of the new system. The result from these observations is that the sources of additional expense from the establishment of the proposed Constitution are much fewer than may have been imagined; that they are counterbalanced by considerable objects of saving; and that while it is questionable on which side the scale will preponderate, it is certain that a government less expensive would be incompetent to the purposes of the Union. PUBLIUS 1. Vide Blackstone's Commentaries, Vol. 1, p. 136. 2. Idem, Vol. 4, p. 438. 3. To show that there is a power in the Constitution by which the liberty of the press may be affected, recourse has been had to the power of taxation. It is said that duties may be laid upon the publications so high as to amount to a prohibition. I know not by what logic it could be maintained, that the declarations in the State constitutions, in favor of the freedom of the press, would be a constitutional impediment to the imposition of duties upon publications by the State legislatures. It cannot certainly be pretended that any degree of duties, however low, would be an abridgment of the liberty of the press. We know that newspapers are taxed in Great Britain, and yet it is notorious that the press nowhere enjoys greater liberty than in that country. And if duties of any kind may be laid without a violation of that liberty, it is evident that the extent must depend on legislative discretion, respecting the liberty of the press, will give it no greater security than it will have without them. The same invasions of it may be effected under the State constitutions which contain those declarations through the means of taxation, as under the proposed Constitution, which has nothing of the kind. It would be quite as significant to declare that government ought to be free, that taxes ought not to be excessive, etc., as that the liberty of the press ought not to be restrained. 4. Vide Rutherford's Institutes, Vol. 2, Book II, Chapter X, Sections XIV and XV. Vide also Grotius, Book II, Chapter IX, Sections VIII and IX. FEDERALIST No. 85 Concluding Remarks From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. Wednesday, May 28, 1788 HAMILTON To the People of the State of New York: ACCORDING to the formal division of the subject of these papers, announced in my first number, there would appear still to remain for discussion two points: \"the analogy of the proposed government to your own State constitution,\" and \"the additional security which its adoption will afford to republican government, to liberty, and to property.\" But these heads have been so fully anticipated and exhausted in the progress of the work, that it would now scarcely be possible to do any thing more than repeat, in a more dilated form, what has been heretofore said, which the advanced stage of the question, and the time already spent upon it, conspire to forbid. It is remarkable, that the resemblance of the plan of the convention to the act which organizes the government of this State holds, not less with regard to many of the supposed defects, than to the real excellences of the former. Among the pretended defects are the reeligibility of the Executive, the want of a council, the omission of a formal bill of rights, the omission of a provision respecting the liberty of the press. These and several others which have been noted in the course of our inquiries are as much chargeable on the existing constitution of this State, as on the one proposed for the Union; and a man must have slender pretensions to consistency, who can rail at the latter for imperfections which he finds no difficulty in excusing in the former. Nor indeed can there be a better proof of the insincerity and affectation of some of the zealous adversaries of the plan of the convention among us, who profess to be the devoted admirers of the government under which they live, than the fury with which they have attacked that plan, for matters in regard to which our own constitution is equally or perhaps more vulnerable. The additional securities to republican government, to liberty and to property, to be derived from the adoption of the plan under consideration, consist chiefly in the restraints which the preservation of the Union will impose on local factions and insurrections, and on the ambition of powerful individuals in single States, who may acquire credit and influence enough, from leaders and favorites, to become the despots of the people; in the diminution of the opportunities to foreign intrigue, which the dissolution of the Confederacy would invite and facilitate; in the prevention of extensive military establishments, which could not fail to grow out of wars between the States in a disunited situation; in the express guaranty of a republican form of government to each; in the absolute and universal exclusion of titles of nobility; and in the precautions against the repetition of those practices on the part of the State governments which have undermined the foundations of property and credit, have planted mutual distrust in the breasts of all classes of citizens, and have occasioned an almost universal prostration of morals. Thus have I, fellowcitizens, executed the task I had assigned to myself; with what success, your conduct must determine. I trust at least you will admit that I have not failed in the assurance I gave you respecting the spirit with which my endeavors should be conducted. I have addressed myself purely to your judgments, and have studiously avoided those asperities which are too apt to disgrace political disputants of all parties, and which have been not a little provoked by the language and conduct of the opponents of the Constitution. The charge of a conspiracy against the liberties of the people, which has been indiscriminately brought against the advocates of the plan, has something in it too wanton and too malignant, not to excite the indignation of every man who feels in his own bosom a refutation of the calumny. The perpetual changes which have been rung upon the wealthy, the wellborn, and the great, have been such as to inspire the disgust of all sensible men. And the unwarrantable concealments and misrepresentations which have been in various ways practiced to keep the truth from the public eye, have been of a nature to demand the reprobation of all honest men. It is not impossible that these circumstances may have occasionally betrayed me into intemperances of expression which I did not intend; it is certain that I have frequently felt a struggle between sensibility and moderation; and if the former has in some instances prevailed, it must be my excuse that it has been neither often nor much. Let us now pause and ask ourselves whether, in the course of these papers, the proposed Constitution has not been satisfactorily vindicated from the aspersions thrown upon it; and whether it has not been shown to be worthy of the public approbation, and necessary to the public safety and prosperity. Every man is bound to answer these questions to himself, according to the best of his conscience and understanding, and to act agreeably to the genuine and sober dictates of his judgment. This is a duty from which nothing can give him a dispensation. 'T is one that he is called upon, nay, constrained by all the obligations that form the bands of society, to discharge sincerely and honestly. No partial motive, no particular interest, no pride of opinion, no temporary passion or prejudice, will justify to himself, to his country, or to his posterity, an improper election of the part he is to act. Let him beware of an obstinate adherence to party; let him reflect that the object upon which he is to decide is not a particular interest of the community, but the very existence of the nation; and let him remember that a majority of America has already given its sanction to the plan which he is to approve or reject. I shall not dissemble that I feel an entire confidence in the arguments which recommend the proposed system to your adoption, and that I am unable to discern any real force in those by which it has been opposed. I am persuaded that it is the best which our political situation, habits, and opinions will admit, and superior to any the revolution has produced. Concessions on the part of the friends of the plan, that it has not a claim to absolute perfection, have afforded matter of no small triumph to its enemies. \"Why,\" say they, \"should we adopt an imperfect thing? Why not amend it and make it perfect before it is irrevocably established?\" This may be plausible enough, but it is only plausible. In the first place I remark, that the extent of these concessions has been greatly exaggerated. They have been stated as amounting to an admission that the plan is radically defective, and that without material alterations the rights and the interests of the community cannot be safely confided to it. This, as far as I have understood the meaning of those who make the concessions, is an entire perversion of their sense. No advocate of the measure can be found, who will not declare as his sentiment, that the system, though it may not be perfect in every part, is, upon the whole, a good one; is the best that the present views and circumstances of the country will permit; and is such an one as promises every species of security which a reasonable people can desire. I answer in the next place, that I should esteem it the extreme of imprudence to prolong the precarious state of our national affairs, and to expose the Union to the jeopardy of successive experiments, in the chimerical pursuit of a perfect plan. I never expect to see a perfect work from imperfect man. The result of the deliberations of all collective bodies must necessarily be a compound, as well of the errors and prejudices, as of the good sense and wisdom, of the individuals of whom they are composed. The compacts which are to embrace thirteen distinct States in a common bond of amity and union, must as necessarily be a compromise of as many dissimilar interests and inclinations. How can perfection spring from such materials? The reasons assigned in an excellent little pamphlet lately published in this city,(1) are unanswerable to show the utter improbability of assembling a new convention, under circumstances in any degree so favorable to a happy issue, as those in which the late convention met, deliberated, and concluded. I will not repeat the arguments there used, as I presume the production itself has had an extensive circulation. It is certainly well worthy the perusal of every friend to his country. There is, however, one point of light in which the subject of amendments still remains to be considered, and in which it has not yet been exhibited to public view. I cannot resolve to conclude without first taking a survey of it in this aspect. It appears to me susceptible of absolute demonstration, that it will be far more easy to obtain subsequent than previous amendments to the Constitution. The moment an alteration is made in the present plan, it becomes, to the purpose of adoption, a new one, and must undergo a new decision of each State. To its complete establishment throughout the Union, it will therefore require the concurrence of thirteen States. If, on the contrary, the Constitution proposed should once be ratified by all the States as it stands, alterations in it may at any time be effected by nine States. Here, then, the chances are as thirteen to nine(2) in favor of subsequent amendment, rather than of the original adoption of an entire system. This is not all. Every Constitution for the United States must inevitably consist of a great variety of particulars, in which thirteen independent States are to be accommodated in their interests or opinions of interest. We may of course expect to see, in any body of men charged with its original formation, very different combinations of the parts upon different points. Many of those who form a majority on one question, may become the minority on a second, and an association dissimilar to either may constitute the majority on a third. Hence the necessity of moulding and arranging all the particulars which are to compose the whole, in such a manner as to satisfy all the parties to the compact; and hence, also, an immense multiplication of difficulties and casualties in obtaining the collective assent to a final act. The degree of that multiplication must evidently be in a ratio to the number of particulars and the number of parties. But every amendment to the Constitution, if once established, would be a single proposition, and might be brought forward singly. There would then be no necessity for management or compromise, in relation to any other pointno giving nor taking. The will of the requisite number would at once bring the matter to a decisive issue. And consequently, whenever nine, or rather ten States, were united in the desire of a particular amendment, that amendment must infallibly take place. There can, therefore, be no comparison between the facility of affecting an amendment, and that of establishing in the first instance a complete Constitution. In opposition to the probability of subsequent amendments, it has been urged that the persons delegated to the administration of the national government will always be disinclined to yield up any portion of the authority of which they were once possessed. For my own part I acknowledge a thorough conviction that any amendments which may, upon mature consideration, be thought useful, will be applicable to the organization of the government, not to the mass of its powers; and on this account alone, I think there is no weight in the observation just stated. I also think there is little weight in it on another account. The intrinsic difficulty of governing THIRTEEN STATES at any rate, independent of calculations upon an ordinary degree of public spirit and integrity, will, in my opinion constantly impose on the national rulers the necessity of a spirit of accommodation to the reasonable expectations of their constituents. But there is yet a further consideration, which proves beyond the possibility of a doubt, that the observation is futile. It is this that the national rulers, whenever nine States concur, will have no option upon the subject. By the fifth article of the plan, the Congress will be obliged \"on the application of the legislatures of two thirds of the States (which at present amount to nine), to call a convention for proposing amendments, which shall be valid, to all intents and purposes, as part of the Constitution, when ratified by the legislatures of three fourths of the States, or by conventions in three fourths thereof.\" The words of this article are peremptory. The Congress \"shall call a convention.\" Nothing in this particular is left to the discretion of that body. And of consequence, all the declamation about the disinclination to a change vanishes in air. Nor however difficult it may be supposed to unite two thirds or three fourths of the State legislatures, in amendments which may affect local interests, can there be any room to apprehend any such difficulty in a union on points which are merely relative to the general liberty or security of the people. We may safely rely on the disposition of the State legislatures to erect barriers against the encroachments of the national authority. If the foregoing argument is a fallacy, certain it is that I am myself deceived by it, for it is, in my conception, one of those rare instances in which a political truth can be brought to the test of a mathematical demonstration. Those who see the matter in the same light with me, however zealous they may be for amendments, must agree in the propriety of a previous adoption, as the most direct road to their own object. The zeal for attempts to amend, prior to the establishment of the Constitution, must abate in every man who is ready to accede to the truth of the following observations of a writer equally solid and ingenious: \"To balance a large state or society (says he), whether monarchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of so great difficulty, that no human genius, however comprehensive, is able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect it. The judgments of many must unite in the work; EXPERIENCE must guide their labor; TIME must bring it to perfection, and the FEELING of inconveniences must correct the mistakes which they inevitably fall into in their first trials and experiments.\"(3) These judicious reflections contain a lesson of moderation to all the sincere lovers of the Union, and ought to put them upon their guard against hazarding anarchy, civil war, a perpetual alienation of the States from each other, and perhaps the military despotism of a victorious demagogue, in the pursuit of what they are not likely to obtain, but from TIME and EXPERIENCE. It may be in me a defect of political fortitude, but I acknowledge that I cannot entertain an equal tranquillity with those who affect to treat the dangers of a longer continuance in our present situation as imaginary. A NATION, without a NATIONAL GOVERNMENT, is, in my view, an awful spectacle. The establishment of a Constitution, in time of profound peace, by the voluntary consent of a whole people, is a PRODIGY, to the completion of which I look forward with trembling anxiety. I can reconcile it to no rules of prudence to let go the hold we now have, in so arduous an enterprise, upon seven out of the thirteen States, and after having passed over so considerable a part of the ground, to recommence the course. I dread the more the consequences of new attempts, because I know that POWERFUL INDIVIDUALS, in this and in other States, are enemies to a general national government in every possible shape. PUBLIUS 1. Entitled \"An Address to the People of the State of New York.\" 2. It may rather be said TEN, for though two thirds may set on foot the measure, three fourths must ratify. 3. Hume's Essays, Vol. I, p. 128: \"The Rise of Arts and Sciences.\" State of the Union Addresses of George Washington The addresses are separated by three asterisks:  Dates of addresses by George Washington in this eBook: January 8, 1790 December 8, 1790 October 25, 1791 November 6, 1792 December 3, 1793 November 19, 1794 December 8, 1795 December 7, 1796  State of the Union Address George Washington January 8, 1790 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: I embrace with great satisfaction the opportunity which now presents itself of congratulating you on the present favorable prospects of our public affairs. The recent accession of the important state of North Carolina to the Constitution of the United States (of which official information has been received), the rising credit and respectability of our country, the general and increasing good will toward the government of the Union, and the concord, peace, and plenty with which we are blessed are circumstances auspicious in an eminent degree to our national prosperity. In resuming your consultations for the general good you can not but derive encouragement from the reflection that the measures of the last session have been as satisfactory to your constituents as the novelty and difficulty of the work allowed you to hope. Still further to realize their expectations and to secure the blessings which a gracious Providence has placed within our reach will in the course of the present important session call for the cool and deliberate exertion of your patriotism, firmness, and wisdom. Among the many interesting objects which will engage your attention that of providing for the common defense will merit particular regard. To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace. A free people ought not only to be armed, but disciplined; to which end a uniform and welldigested plan is requisite; and their safety and interest require that they should promote such manufactories as tend to render them independent of others for essential, particularly military, supplies. The proper establishment of the troops which may be deemed indispensable will be entitled to mature consideration. In the arrangements which may be made respecting it it will be of importance to conciliate the comfortable support of the officers and soldiers with a due regard to economy. There was reason to hope that the pacific measures adopted with regard to certain hostile tribes of Indians would have relieved the inhabitants of our southern and western frontiers from their depredations, but you will perceive from the information contained in the papers which I shall direct to be laid before you (comprehending a communication from the Commonwealth of Virginia) that we ought to be prepared to afford protection to those parts of the Union, and, if necessary, to punish aggressors. The interests of the United States require that our intercourse with other nations should be facilitated by such provisions as will enable me to fulfill my duty in that respect in the manner which circumstances may render most conducive to the public good, and to this end that the compensation to be made to the persons who may be employed should, according to the nature of their appointments, be defined by law, and a competent fund designated for defraying the expenses incident to the conduct of foreign affairs. Various considerations also render it expedient that the terms on which foreigners may be admitted to the rights of citizens should be speedily ascertained by a uniform rule of naturalization. Uniformity in the currency, weights, and measures of the United States is an object of great importance, and will, I am persuaded, be duly attended to. The advancement of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures by all proper means will not, I trust, need recommendation; but I can not forbear intimating to you the expediency of giving effectual encouragement as well to the introduction of new and useful inventions from abroad as to the exertions of skill and genius in producing them at home, and of facilitating the intercourse between the distant parts of our country by a due attention to the postoffice and postroads. Nor am I less persuaded that you will agree with me in opinion that there is nothing which can better deserve your patronage than the promotion of science and literature. Knowledge is in every country the surest basis of public happiness. In one in which the measures of government receive their impressions so immediately from the sense of the community as in ours it is proportionably essential. To the security of a free constitution it contributes in various waysby convincing those who are intrusted with the public administration that every valuable end of government is best answered by the enlightened confidence of the people, and by teaching the people themselves to know and to value their own rights; to discern and provide against invasions of them; to distinguish between oppression and the necessary exercise of lawful authority; between burthens proceeding from a disregard to their convenience and those resulting from the inevitable exigencies of society; to discriminate the spirit of liberty from that of licentiousnesscherishing the first, avoiding the lastand uniting a speedy but temperate vigilance against encroachments, with an inviolable respect to the laws. Whether this desirable object will be best promoted by affording aids to seminaries of learning already established, by the institution of a national university, or by any other expedients will be well worthy of a place in the deliberations of the legislature. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: I saw with peculiar pleasure at the close of the last session the resolution entered into by you expressive of your opinion that an adequate provision for the support of the public credit is a matter of high importance to the national honor and prosperity. In this sentiment I entirely concur; and to a perfect confidence in your best endeavors to devise such a provision as will be truly with the end I add an equal reliance on the cheerful cooperation of the other branch of the legislature. It would be superfluous to specify inducements to a measure in which the character and interests of the United States are so obviously so deeply concerned, and which has received so explicit a sanction from your declaration. Gentlemen of the Senate and House of Representatives: I have directed the proper officers to lay before you, respectively, such papers and estimates as regard the affairs particularly recommended to your consideration, and necessary to convey to you that information of the state of the Union which it is my duty to afford. The welfare of our country is the great object to which our cares and efforts ought to be directed, and I shall derive great satisfaction from a cooperation with you in the pleasing though arduous task of insuring to our fellow citizens the blessings which they have a right to expect from a free, efficient, and equal government.  State of the Union Address George Washington December 8, 1790 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In meeting you again I feel much satisfaction in being able to repeat my congratulations on the favorable prospects which continue to distinguish our public affairs. The abundant fruits of another year have blessed our country with plenty and with the means of a flourishing commerce. The progress of public credit is witnessed by a considerable rise of American stock abroad as well as at home, and the revenues allotted for this and other national purposes have been productive beyond the calculations by which they were regulated. This latter circumstance is the more pleasing, as it is not only a proof of the fertility of our resources, but as it assures us of a further increase of the national respectability and credit, and, let me add, as it bears an honorable testimony to the patriotism and integrity of the mercantile and marine part of our citizens. The punctuality of the former in discharging their engagements has been exemplary. In conformity to the powers vested in me by acts of the last session, a loan of 3,000,000 florins, toward which some provisional measures had previously taken place, has been completed in Holland. As well the celerity with which it has been filled as the nature of the terms (considering the more than ordinary demand for borrowing created by the situation of Europe) give a reasonable hope that the further execution of those powers may proceed with advantage and success. The Secretary of the Treasury has my directions to communicate such further particulars as may be requisite for more precise information. Since your last sessions I have received communications by which it appears that the district of Kentucky, at present a part of Virginia, has concurred in certain propositions contained in a law of that State, in consequence of which the district is to become a distinct member of the Union, in case the requisite sanction of Congress be added. For this sanction application is now made. I shall cause the papers on this very transaction to be laid before you. The liberality and harmony with which it has been conducted will be found to do great honor to both the parties, and the sentiments of warm attachment to the Union and its present Government expressed by our fellow citizens of Kentucky can not fail to add an affectionate concern for their particular welfare to the great national impressions under which you will decide on the case submitted to you. It has been heretofore known to Congress that frequent incursions have been made on our frontier settlements by certain banditti of Indians from the northwest side of the Ohio. These, with some of the tribes dwelling on and near the Wabash, have of late been particularly active in their depredations, and being emboldened by the impunity of their crimes and aided by such parts of the neighboring tribes as could be seduced to join in their hostilities or afford them a retreat for their prisoners and plunder, they have, instead of listening to the humane invitations and overtures made on the part of the United States, renewed their violences with fresh alacrity and greater effect. The lives of a number of valuable citizens have thus been sacrificed, and some of them under circumstances peculiarly shocking, whilst others have been carried into a deplorable captivity. These aggravated provocations rendered it essential to the safety of the Western settlements that the aggressors should be made sensible that the Government of the Union is not less capable of punishing their crimes than it is disposed to respect their rights and reward their attachments. As this object could not be effected by defensive measures, it became necessary to put in force the act which empowers the President to call out the militia for the protection of the frontiers, and I have accordingly authorized an expedition in which the regular troops in that quarter are combined with such drafts of militia as were deemed sufficient. The event of the measure is yet unknown to me. The Secretary of War is directed to lay before you a statement of the information on which it is founded, as well as an estimate of the expense with which it will be attended. The disturbed situation of Europe, and particularly the critical posture of the great maritime powers, whilst it ought to make us the more thankful for the general peace and security enjoyed by the United States, reminds us at the same time of the circumspection with which it becomes us to preserve these blessings. It requires also that we should not overlook the tendency of a war, and even of preparations for a war, among the nations most concerned in active commerce with this country to abridge the means, and thereby at least enhance the price, of transporting its valuable productions to their markets. I recommend it to your serious reflections how far and in what mode it may be expedient to guard against embarrassments from these contingencies by such encouragements to our own navigation as will render our commerce and agriculture less dependent on foreign bottoms, which may fail us in the very moments most interesting to both of these great objects. Our fisheries and the transportation of our own produce offer us abundant means for guarding ourselves against this evil. Your attention seems to be not less due to that particular branch of our trade which belongs to the Mediterranean. So many circumstances unite in rendering the present state of it distressful to us that you will not think any deliberations misemployed which may lead to its relief and protection. The laws you have already passed for the establishment of a judiciary system have opened the doors of justice to all descriptions of persons. You will consider in your wisdom whether improvements in that system may yet be made, and particularly whether an uniform process of execution on sentences issuing from the Federal courts be not desirable through all the States. The patronage of our commerce, of our merchants and sea men, has called for the appointment of consuls in foreign countries. It seems expedient to regulate by law the exercise of that jurisdiction and those functions which are permitted them, either by express convention or by a friendly indulgence, in the places of their residence. The consular convention, too, with His Most Christian Majesty has stipulated in certain cases the aid of the national authority to his consuls established here. Some legislative provision is requisite to carry these stipulations into full effect. The establishment of the militia, of a mint, of standards of weights and measures, of the post office and post roads are subjects which I presume you will resume of course, and which are abundantly urged by their own importance. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: The sufficiency of the revenues you have established for the objects to which they are appropriated leaves no doubt that the residuary provisions will be commensurate to the other objects for which the public faith stands now pledged. Allow me, moreover, to hope that it will be a favorite policy with you, not merely to secure a payment of the interest of the debt funded, but as far and as fast as the growing resources of the country will permit to exonerate it of the principal itself. The appropriation you have made of the Western land explains your dispositions on this subject, and I am persuaded that the sooner that valuable fund can be made to contribute, along with the other means, to the actual reduction of the public debt the more salutary will the measure be to every public interest, as well as the more satisfactory to our constituents. Gentlemen of the Senate and House of Representatives: In pursuing the various and weighty business of the present session I indulge the fullest persuasion that your consultation will be equally marked with wisdom and animated by the love of your country. In whatever belongs to my duty you shall have all the cooperation which an undiminished zeal for its welfare can inspire. It will be happy for us both, and our best reward, if, by a successful administration of our respective trusts, we can make the established Government more and more instrumental in promoting the good of our fellow citizens, and more and more the object of their attachment and confidence. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington October 25, 1791 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: \"In vain may we expect peace with the Indians on our frontiers so long as a lawless set of unprincipled wretches can violate the rights of hospitality, or infringe the most solemn treaties, without receiving the punishment they so justly merit.\" I meet you upon the present occasion with the feelings which are naturally inspired by a strong impression of the prosperous situations of our common country, and by a persuasion equally strong that the labors of the session which has just commenced will, under the guidance of a spirit no less prudent than patriotic, issue in measures conducive to the stability and increase of national prosperity. Numerous as are the providential blessings which demand our grateful acknowledgments, the abundance with which another year has again rewarded the industry of the husbandman is too important to escape recollection. Your own observations in your respective situations will have satisfied you of the progressive state of agriculture, manufactures, commerce, and navigation. In tracing their causes you will have remarked with particular pleasure the happy effects of that revival of confidence, public as well as private, to which the Constitution and laws of the United States have so eminently contributed; and you will have observed with no less interest new and decisive proofs of the increasing reputation and credit of the nation. But you nevertheless can not fail to derive satisfaction from the confirmation of these circumstances which will be disclosed in the several official communications that will be made to you in the course of your deliberations. The rapid subscriptions to the Bank of the United States, which completed the sum allowed to be subscribed in a single day, is among the striking and pleasing evidences which present themselves, not only of confidence in the Government, but of resource in the community. In the interval of your recess due attention has been paid to the execution of the different objects which were specially provided for by the laws and resolutions of the last session. Among the most important of these is the defense and security of the western frontiers. To accomplish it on the most humane principles was a primary wish. Accordingly, at the same time the treaties have been provisionally concluded and other proper means used to attach the wavering and to confirm in their friendship the welldisposed tribes of Indians, effectual measures have been adopted to make those of a hostile description sensible that a pacification was desired upon terms of moderation and justice. Those measures having proved unsuccessful, it became necessary to convince the refractory of the power of the United States to punish their depredations. Offensive operations have therefore been directed, to be conducted, however, as consistently as possible with the dictates of humanity. Some of these have been crowned with full success and others are yet depending. The expeditions which have been completed were carried on under the authority and at the expense of the United States by the militia of Kentucky, whose enterprise, intrepidity, and good conduct are entitled of peculiar commendation. Overtures of peace are still continued to the deluded tribes, and considerable numbers of individuals belonging to them have lately renounced all further opposition, removed from their former situations, and placed themselves under the immediate protection of the United States. It is sincerely to be desired that all need of coercion in future may cease and that an intimate intercourse may succeed, calculated to advance the happiness of the Indians and to attach them firmly to the United States. In order to this it seems necessaryThat they should experience the benefits of an impartial dispensation of justice. That the mode of alienating their lands, the main source of discontent and war, should be so defined and regulated as to obviate imposition and as far as may be practicable controversy concerning the reality and extent of the alienations which are made. That commerce with them should be promoted under regulations tending to secure an equitable deportment toward them, and that such rational experiments should be made for imparting to them the blessings of civilization as may from time to time suit their condition. That the Executive of the United States should be enabled to employ the means to which the Indians have been long accustomed for uniting their immediate interests with the preservation of peace. And that efficacious provision should be made for inflicting adequate penalties upon all those who, by violating their rights, shall infringe the treaties and endanger the peace of the Union. A system corresponding with the mild principles of religion and philanthropy toward an unenlightened race of men, whose happiness materially depends on the conduct of the United States, would be as honorable to the national character as conformable to the dictates of sound policy. The powers specially vested in me by the act laying certain duties on distilled spirits, which respect the subdivisions of the districts into surveys, the appointment of officers, and the assignment of compensations, have likewise been carried into effect. In a manner in which both materials and experience were wanting to guide the calculation it will be readily conceived that there must have been difficulty in such an adjustment of the rates of compensation as would conciliate a reasonable competency with a proper regard to the limits prescribed by the law. It is hoped that the circumspection which has been used will be found in the result to have secured the last of the two objects; but it is probable that with a view to the first in some instances a revision of the provision will be found advisable. The impressions with which this law has been received by the community have been upon the whole such as were to be expected among enlightened and welldisposed citizens from the propriety and necessity of the measure. The novelty, however, of the tax in a considerable part of the United States and a misconception of some of its provisions have given occasion in particular places to some degree of discontent; but it is satisfactory to know that this disposition yields to proper explanations and more just apprehensions of the true nature of the law, and I entertain a full confidence that it will in all give way to motives which arise out of a just sense of duty and a virtuous regard to the public welfare. If there are any circumstances in the law which consistently with its main design may be so varied as to remove any wellintentioned objections that may happen to exist, it will consist with a wise moderation to make the proper variations. It is desirable on all occasions to unite with a steady and firm adherence to constitutional and necessary acts of Government the fullest evidence of a disposition as far as may be practicable to consult the wishes of every part of the community and to lay the foundations of the public administration in the affections of the people. Pursuant to the authority contained in the several acts on that subject, a district of 10 miles square for the permanent seat of the Government of the United States has been fixed and announced by proclamation, which district will comprehend lands on both sides of the river Potomac and the towns of Alexandria and Georgetown. A city has also been laid out agreeably to a plan which will be placed before Congress, and as there is a prospect, favored by the rate of sales which have already taken place, of ample funds for carrying on the necessary public buildings, there is every expectation of their due progress. The completion of the census of the inhabitants, for which provision was made by law, has been duly notified (excepting one instance in which the return has been informal, and another in which it has been omitted or miscarried), and the returns of the officers who were charged with this duty, which will be laid before you, will give you the pleasing assurance that the present population of the United States borders on 4,000,000 persons. It is proper also to inform you that a further loan of 2,500,000 florins has been completed in Holland, the terms of which are similar to those of the one last announced, except as to a small reduction of charges. Another, on like terms, for 6,000,000 florins, had been set on foot under circumstances that assured an immediate completion. Gentlemen of the Senate: Two treaties which have been provisionally concluded with the Cherokees and Six Nations of Indians will be laid before you for your consideration and ratification. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: In entering upon the discharge of your legislative trust you must anticipate with pleasure that many of the difficulties necessarily incident to the first arrangements of a new government for an extensive country have been happily surmounted by the zealous and judicious exertions of your predecessors in cooperation with the other branch of the Legislature. The important objects which remain to be accomplished will, I am persuaded, be conducted upon principles equally comprehensive and equally well calculated of the advancement of the general weal. The time limited for receiving subscriptions to the loans proposed by the act making provision for the debt of the United States having expired, statements from the proper department will as soon as possible apprise you of the exact result. Enough, however, is known already to afford an assurance that the views of that act have been substantially fulfilled. The subscription in the domestic debt of the United States has embraced by far the greatest proportion of that debt, affording at the same time proof of the general satisfaction of the public creditors with the system which has been proposed to their acceptance and of the spirit of accommodation to the convenience of the Government with which they are actuated. The subscriptions in the debts of the respective States as far as the provisions of the law have permitted may be said to be yet more general. The part of the debt of the United States which remains unsubscribed will naturally engage your further deliberations. It is particularly pleasing to me to be able to announce to you that the revenues which have been established promise to be adequate to their objects, and may be permitted, if no unforeseen exigency occurs, to supersede for the present the necessity of any new burthens upon our constituents. An object which will claim your early attention is a provision for the current service of the ensuing year, together with such ascertained demands upon the Treasury as require to be immediately discharged, and such casualties as may have arisen in the execution of the public business, for which no specific appropriation may have yet been made; of all which a proper estimate will be laid before you. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: I shall content myself with a general reference to former communications for several objects upon which the urgency of other affairs has hitherto postponed any definitive resolution. Their importance will recall them to your attention, and I trust that the progress already made in the most arduous arrangements of the Government will afford you leisure to resume them to advantage. These are, however, some of them of which I can not forbear a more particular mention. These are the militia, the post office and post roads, the mint, weights and measures, a provision for the sale of the vacant lands of the United States. The first is certainly an object of primary importance whether viewed in reference to the national security to the satisfaction of the community or to the preservation of order. In connection with this the establishment of competent magazines and arsenals and the fortification of such places as are peculiarly important and vulnerable naturally present themselves to consideration. The safety of the United States under divine protection ought to rest on the basis of systematic and solid arrangements, exposed as little as possible to the hazards of fortuitous circumstances. The importance of the post office and post roads on a plan sufficiently liberal and comprehensive, as they respect the expedition, safety, and facility of communication, is increased by their instrumentality in diffusing a knowledge of the laws and proceedings of the Government, which, while it contributes to the security of the people, serves also to guard them against the effects of misrepresentation and misconception. The establishment of additional cross posts, especially to some of the important points in the Western and Northern parts of the Union, can not fail to be of material utility. The disorders in the existing currency, and especially the scarcity of small change, a scarcity so peculiarly distressing to the poorer classes, strongly recommend the carrying into immediate effect the resolution already entered into concerning the establishment of a mint. Measures have been taken pursuant to that resolution for procuring some of the most necessary artists, together with the requisite apparatus. An uniformity in the weights and measures of the country is among the important objects submitted to you by the Constitution, and if it can be derived from a standard at once invariable and universal, must be no less honorable to the public councils than conducive to the public convenience. A provision for the sale of the vacant lands of the United States is particularly urged, among other reasons, by the important considerations that they are pledged as a fund for reimbursing the public debt; that if timely and judiciously applied they may save the necessity of burthening our citizens with new taxes for the extinguishment of the principal; and that being free to discharge the principal but in a limited proportion, no opportunity ought to be lost for availing the public of its right. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington November 6, 1792 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: It is some abatement of the satisfaction with which I meet you on the present occasion that, in felicitating you on a continuance of the national prosperity generally, I am not able to add to it information that the Indian hostilities which have for some time past distressed our Northwestern frontier have terminated. You will, I am persuaded, learn with no less concern than I communicate it that reiterated endeavors toward effecting a pacification have hitherto issued only in new and outrageous proofs of persevering hostility on the part of the tribes with whom we are in contest. An earnest desire to procure tranquillity to the frontier, to stop the further effusion of blood, to arrest the progress of expense, to forward the prevalent wish of the nation for peace has led to strenuous efforts through various channels to accomplish these desirable purposes; in making which efforts I consulted less my own anticipations of the event, or the scruples which some considerations were calculated to inspire, than the wish to find the object attainable, or if not attainable, to ascertain unequivocally that such is the case. A detail of the measures which have been pursued and of their consequences, which will be laid before you, while it will confirm to you the want of success thus far, will, I trust, evince that means as proper and as efficacious as could have been devised have been employed. The issue of some of them, indeed, is still depending, but a favorable one, though not to be despaired of, is not promised by anything that has yet happened. In the course of the attempts which have been made some valuable citizens have fallen victims to their zeal for the public service. A sanction commonly respected even among savages has been found in this instance insufficient to protect from massacre the emissaries of peace. It will, I presume, be duly considered whether the occasion does not call for an exercise of liberality toward the families of the deceased. It must add to your concern to be informed that, besides the continuation of hostile appearances among the tribes north of the Ohio, some threatening symptoms have of late been revived among some of those south of it. A part of the Cherokees, known by the name of Chickamaugas, inhabiting five villages on the Tennessee River, have long been in the practice of committing depredations on the neighboring settlements. It was hoped that the treaty of Holston, made with the Cherokee Nation in July, 1791, would have prevented a repetition of such depredations; but the event has not answered this hope. The Chickamaugas, aided by some banditti of another tribe in their vicinity, have recently perpetrated wanton and unprovoked hostilities upon the citizens of the United States in that quarter. The information which has been received on this subject will be laid before you. Hitherto defensive precautions only have been strictly enjoined and observed. It is not understood that any breach of treaty or aggression whatsoever on the part of the United States or their citizens is even alleged as a pretext for the spirit of hostility in this quarter. I have reason to believe that every practicable exertion has been made (pursuant to the provision by law for that purpose) to be prepared for the alternative of a prosecution of the war in the event of a failure of pacific overtures. A large proportion of the troops authorized to be raised have been recruited, though the number is still incomplete, and pains have been taken to discipline and put them in condition for the particular kind of service to be performed. A delay of operations (besides being dictated by the measures which were pursuing toward a pacific termination of the war) has been in itself deemed preferable to immature efforts. A statement from the proper department with regard to the number of troops raised, and some other points which have been suggested, will afford more precise information as a guide to the legislative consultations, and among other things will enable Congress to judge whether some additional stimulus to the recruiting service may not be advisable. In looking forward to the future expense of the operations which may be found inevitable I derive consolation from the information I receive that the product of the revenues for the present year is likely to supersede the necessity of additional burthens on the community for the service of the ensuing year. This, however, will be better ascertained in the course of the session, and it is proper to add that the information alluded to proceeds upon the supposition of no material extension of the spirit of hostility. I can not dismiss the subject of Indian affairs without again recommending to your consideration the expediency of more adequate provision for giving energy to the laws throughout our interior frontier and for restraining the commission of outrages upon the Indians, without which all pacific plans must prove nugatory. To enable, by competent rewards, the employment of qualified and trusty persons to reside among them as agents would also contribute to the preservation of peace and good neighborhood. If in addition to these expedients an eligible plan could be devised for promoting civilization among the friendly tribes and for carrying on trade with them upon a scale equal to their wants and under regulations calculated to protect them from imposition and extortion, its influence in cementing their interest with ours could not but be considerable. The prosperous state of our revenue has been intimated. This would be still more the case were it not for the impediments which in some places continue to embarrass the collection of the duties on spirits distilled within the United States. These impediments have lessened and are lessening in local extent, and, as applied to the community at large, the contentment with the law appears to be progressive. But symptoms of increased opposition having lately manifested themselves in certain quarters, I judged a special interposition on my part proper and advisable, and under this impression have issued a proclamation warning against all unlawful combinations and proceedings having for their object or tending to obstruct the operation of the law in question, and announcing that all lawful ways and means would be strictly put in execution for bringing to justice the infractors thereof and securing obedience thereto. Measures have also been taken for the prosecution of offenders, and Congress may be assured that nothing within constitutional and legal limits which may depend upon me shall be wanting to assert and maintain the just authority of the laws. In fulfilling this trust I shall count entirely upon the full cooperation of the other departments of the Government and upon the zealous support of all good citizens. I can not forbear to bring again into the view of the Legislature the subject of a revision of the judiciary system. A representation from the judges of the Supreme Court, which will be laid before you, points out some of the inconveniences that are experienced. In the course of the execution of the laws considerations arise out of the structure of the system which in some cases tend to relax their efficacy. As connected with this subject, provisions to facilitate the taking of bail upon processes out of the courts of the United States and a supplementary definition of offenses against the Constitution and laws of the Union and of the punishment for such offenses will, it is presumed, be found worthy of particular attention. Observations on the value of peace with other nations are unnecessary. It would be wise, however, by timely provisions to guard against those acts of our own citizens which might tend to disturb it, and to put ourselves in a condition to give that satisfaction to foreign nations which we may sometimes have occasion to require from them. I particularly recommend to your consideration the means of preventing those aggressions by our citizens on the territory of other nations, and other infractions of the law of nations, which, furnishing just subject of complaint, might endanger our peace with them; and, in general, the maintenance of a friendly intercourse with foreign powers will be presented to your attention by the expiration of the law for that purpose, which takes place, if not renewed, at the close of the present session. In execution of the authority given by the Legislature measures have been taken for engaging some artists from abroad to aid in the establishment of our mint. Others have been employed at home. Provision has been made of the requisite buildings, and these are now putting into proper condition for the purposes of the establishment. There has also been a small beginning in the coinage of half dimes, the want of small coins in circulation calling the first attention to them. The regulation of foreign coins in correspondency with the principles of our national coinage, as being essential to their due operation and to order in our money concerns, will, I doubt not, be resumed and completed. It is represented that some provisions in the law which establishes the post office operate, in experiment, against the transmission of news papers to distant parts of the country. Should this, upon due inquiry, be found to be the fact, a full conviction of the importance of facilitating the circulation of political intelligence and information will, I doubt not, lead to the application of a remedy. The adoption of a constitution for the State of Kentucky has been notified to me. The Legislature will share with me in the satisfaction which arises from an event interesting to the happiness of the part of the nation to which it relates and conducive to the general order. It is proper likewise to inform you that since my last communication on the subject, and in further execution of the acts severally making provision for the public debt and for the reduction thereof, three new loans have been effected, each for 3,000,000 florinsone at Antwerp, at the annual interest of 4.5, with an allowance of 4 in lieu of all charges, in the other 2 at Amsterdam, at the annual interest of 4, with an allowance of 5.5 in one case and of 5 in the other in lieu of all charges. The rates of these loans and the circumstances under which they have been made are confirmations of the high state of our credit abroad. Among the objects to which these funds have been directed to be applied, the payment of the debts due to certain foreign officers, according to the provision made during the last session, has been embraced. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: I entertain a strong hope that the state of the national finances is now sufficiently matured to enable you to enter upon a systematic and effectual arrangement for the regular redemption and discharge of the public debt, according to the right which has been reserved to the Government. No measure can be more desirable, whether viewed with an eye to its intrinsic importance or to the general sentiment and wish of the nation. Provision is likewise requisite for the reimbursement of the loan which has been made of the Bank of the United States, pursuant to the eleventh section of the act by which it is incorporated. In fulfilling the public stipulations in this particular it is expected a valuable saving will be made. Appropriations for the current service of the ensuing year and for such extraordinaries as may require provision will demand, and I doubt not will engage, your early attention. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: I content myself with recalling your attention generally to such objects, not particularized in my present, as have been suggested in my former communications to you. Various temporary laws will expire during the present session. Among these, that which regulates trade and intercourse with the Indian tribes will merit particular notice. The results of your common deliberations hitherto will, I trust, be productive of solid and durable advantages to our constituents, such as, by conciliating more and more their ultimate suffrage, will tend to strengthen and confirm their attachment to that Constitution of Government upon which, under Divine Providence, materially depend their union, their safety, and their happiness. Still further to promote and secure these inestimable ends there is nothing which can have a more powerful tendency than the careful cultivation of harmony, combined with a due regard to stability, in the public councils. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington December 3, 1793 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: Since the commencement of the term for which I have been again called into office no fit occasion has arisen for expressing to my fellow citizens at large the deep and respectful sense which I feel of the renewed testimony of public approbation. While on the one hand it awakened my gratitude for all those instances of affectionate partiality with which I have been honored by my country, on the other it could not prevent an earnest wish for that retirement from which no private consideration should ever have torn me. But influenced by the belief that my conduct would be estimated according to its real motives, and that the people, and the authorities derived from them, would support exertions having nothing personal for their object, I have obeyed the suffrage which commanded me to resume the Executive power; and I humbly implore that Being on whose will the fate of nations depends to crown with success our mutual endeavors for the general happiness. As soon as the war in Europe had embraced those powers with whom the United States have the most extensive relations there was reason to apprehend that our intercourse with them might be interrupted and our disposition for peace drawn into question by the suspicions too often entertained by belligerent nations. It seemed, therefore, to be my duty to admonish our citizens of the consequences of a contraband trade and of hostile acts to any of the parties, and to obtain by a declaration of the existing legal state of things an easier admission of our right to the immunities belonging to our situation. Under these impressions the proclamation which will be laid before you was issued. In this posture of affairs, both new and delicate, I resolved to adopt general rules which should conform to the treaties and assert the privileges of the United States. These were reduced into a system, which will be communicated to you. Although I have not thought of myself at liberty to forbid the sale of the prizes permitted by our treaty of commerce with France to be brought into our ports, I have not refused to cause them to be restored when they were taken within the protection of our territory, or by vessels commissioned or equipped in a warlike form within the limits of the United States. It rests with the wisdom of Congress to correct, improve, or enforce this plan of procedure; and it will probably be found expedient to extend the legal code and the jurisdiction of the courts of the United States to many cases which, though dependent on principles already recognized, demand some further provisions. Where individuals shall, within the United States, array themselves in hostility against any of the powers at war, or enter upon military expeditions or enterprises within the jurisdiction of the United States, or usurp and exercise judicial authority within the United States, or where the penalties on violations of the law of nations may have been indistinctly marked, or are inadequatethese offenses can not receive too early and close an attention, and require prompt and decisive remedies. Whatsoever those remedies may be, they will be well administered by the judiciary, who possess a longestablished course of investigation, effectual process, and officers in the habit of executing it. In like manner, as several of the courts have doubted, under particular circumstances, their power to liberate the vessels of a nation at peace, and even of a citizen of the United States, although seized under a false color of being hostile property, and have denied their power to liberate certain captures within the protection of our territory, it would seem proper to regulate their jurisdiction in these points. But if the Executive is to be the resort in either of the two lastmentioned cases, it is hoped that he will be authorized by law to have facts ascertained by the courts when for his own information he shall request it. I can not recommend to your notice measures for the fulfillment of our duties to the rest of the world without again pressing upon you the necessity of placing ourselves in a condition of complete defense and of exacting from them the fulfillment of their duties toward us. The United States ought not to indulge a persuasion that, contrary to the order of human events, they will forever keep at a distance those painful appeals to arms with which the history of every other nation abounds. There is a rank due to the United States among nations which will be withheld, if not absolutely lost, by the reputation of weakness. If we desire to avoid insult, we must be able to repel it; if we desire to secure peace, one of the most powerful instruments of our rising prosperity, it must be known that we are at all times ready for war. The documents which will be presented to you will shew the amount and kinds of arms and military stores now in our magazines and arsenals; and yet an addition even to these supplies can not with prudence be neglected, as it would leave nothing to the uncertainty of procuring warlike apparatus in the moment of public danger. Nor can such arrangements, with such objects, be exposed to the censure or jealousy of the warmest friends of republican government. They are incapable of abuse in the hands of the militia, who ought to possess a pride in being the depository of the force of the Republic, and may be trained to a degree of energy equal to every military exigency of the United States. But it is an inquiry which can not be too solemnly pursued, whether the act \"more effectually to provide for the national defense by establishing an uniform militia throughout the United States\" has organized them so as to produce their full effect; whether your own experience in the several States has not detected some imperfections in the scheme, and whether a material feature in an improvement of it ought not to be to afford an opportunity for the study of those branches of the military art which can scarcely ever be attained by practice alone. The connection of the United States with Europe has become extremely interesting. The occurrences which relate to it and have passed under the knowledge of the Executive will be exhibited to Congress in a subsequent communication. When we contemplate the war on our frontiers, it may be truly affirmed that every reasonable effort has been made to adjust the causes of dissension with the Indians north of the Ohio. The instructions given to the commissioners evince a moderation and equity proceeding from a sincere love of peace, and a liberality having no restriction but the essential interests and dignity of the United States. The attempt, however, of an amicable negotiation having been frustrated, the troops have marched to act offensively. Although the proposed treaty did not arrest the progress of military preparation, it is doubtful how far the advance of the season, before good faith justified active movements, may retard them during the remainder of the year. From the papers and intelligence which relate to this important subject you will determine whether the deficiency in the number of troops granted by law shall be compensated by succors of militia, or additional encouragements shall be proposed to recruits. An anxiety has been also demonstrated by the Executive for peace with the Creeks and the Cherokees. The former have been relieved with corn and with clothing, and offensive measures against them prohibited during the recess of Congress. To satisfy the complaints of the latter, prosecutions have been instituted for the violences committed upon them. But the papers which will be delivered to you disclose the critical footing on which we stand in regard to both those tribes, and it is with Congress to pronounce what shall be done. After they shall have provided for the present emergency, it will merit their most serious labors to render tranquillity with the savages permanent by creating ties of interest. Next to a rigorous execution of justice on the violators of peace, the establishment of commerce with the Indian nations in behalf of the United States is most likely to conciliate their attachment. But it ought to be conducted without fraud, without extortion, with constant and plentiful supplies, with a ready market for the commodities of the Indians and a stated price for what they give in payment and receive in exchange. Individuals will not pursue such a traffic unless they be allured by the hope of profit; but it will be enough for the United States to be reimbursed only. Should this recommendation accord with the opinion of Congress, they will recollect that it can not be accomplished by any means yet in the hands of the Executive. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: The commissioners charged with the settlement of accounts between the United States and individual States concluded their important function within the time limited by law, and the balances struck in their report, which will be laid before Congress, have been placed on the books of the Treasury. On the first day of June last an installment of 1,000,000 florins became payable on the loans of the United States in Holland. This was adjusted by a prolongation of the period of reimbursement in nature of a new loan at an interest of 5 for the term of ten years, and the expenses of this operation were a commission of 3. The first installment of the loan of 2,000,000 from the Bank of the United States has been paid, as was directed by law. For the second it is necessary that provision be made. No pecuniary consideration is more urgent than the regular redemption and discharge of the public debt. On none can delay be more injurious or an economy of time more valuable. The productiveness of the public revenues hitherto has continued to equal the anticipations which were formed of it, but it is not expected to prove commensurate with all the objects which have been suggested. Some auxiliary provisions will therefore, it is presumed, be requisite, and it is hoped that these may be made consistently with a due regard to the convenience of our citizens, who can not but be sensible of the true wisdom of encountering a small present addition to their contributions to obviate a future accumulation of burthens. But here I can not forbear to recommend a repeal of the tax on the transportation of public prints. There is no resource so firm for the Government of the United States as the affections of the people, guided by an enlightened policy; and to this primary good nothing can conduce more than a faithful representation of public proceedings, diffused without restraint throughout the United States. An estimate of the appropriations necessary for the current service of the ensuing year and a statement of a purchase of arms and military stores made during the recess will be presented to Congress. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: The several subjects to which I have now referred open a wide range to your deliberations and involve some of the choicest interests of our common country. Permit me to bring to your remembrance the magnitude of your task. Without an unprejudiced coolness the welfare of the Government may be hazarded; without harmony as far as consists with freedom of sentiment its dignity may be lost. But as the legislative proceedings of the United States will never, I trust, be reproached for the want of temper or of candor, so shall not the public happiness languish from the want of my strenuous and warmest cooperation. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington November 19, 1794 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: When we call to mind the gracious indulgence of Heaven by which the American people became a nation; when we survey the general prosperity of our country, and look forward to the riches, power, and happiness to which it seems destined, with the deepest regret do I announce to you that during your recess some of the citizens of the United States have been found capable of insurrection. It is due, however, to the character of our Government and to its stability, which can not be shaken by the enemies of order, freely to unfold the course of this event. During the session of the year 1790 it was expedient to exercise the legislative power granted by the Constitution of the United States \"to lay and collect excises\". In a majority of the States scarcely an objection was heard to this mode of taxation. In some, indeed, alarms were at first conceived, until they were banished by reason and patriotism. In the four western counties of Pennsylvania a prejudice, fostered and imbittered by the artifice of men who labored for an ascendency over the will of others by the guidance of their passions, produced symptoms of riot and violence. It is well known that Congress did not hesitate to examine the complaints which were presented, and to relieve them as far as justice dictated or general convenience would permit. But the impression which this moderation made on the discontented did not correspond with what it deserved. The arts of delusion were no longer confined to the efforts of designing individuals. The very forbearance to press prosecutions was misinterpreted into a fear of urging the execution of the laws, and associations of men began to denounce threats against the officers employed. From a belief that by a more formal concert their operation might be defeated, certain selfcreated societies assumed the tone of condemnation. Hence, while the greater part of Pennsylvania itself were conforming themselves to the acts of excise, a few counties were resolved to frustrate them. It is now perceived that every expectation from the tenderness which had been hitherto pursued was unavailing, and that further delay could only create an opinion of impotency or irresolution in the Government. Legal process was therefore delivered to the marshal against the rioters and delinquent distillers. No sooner was he understood to be engaged in this duty than the vengeance of armed men was aimed at his person and the person and property of the inspector of the revenue. They fired upon the marshal, arrested him, and detained him for some time as a prisoner. He was obliged, by the jeopardy of his life, to renounce the service of other process on the west side of the Allegheny Mountain, and a deputation was afterwards sent to him to demand a surrender of that which he had served. A numerous body repeatedly attacked the house of the inspector, seized his papers of office, and finally destroyed by fire his buildings and whatsoever they contained. Both of these officers, from a just regard to their safety, fled to the seat of Government, it being avowed that the motives to such outrages were to compel the resignation of the inspector, to withstand by force of arms the authority of the United States, and thereby to extort a repeal of the laws of excise and an alteration in the conduct of Government. Upon testimony of these facts an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States notified to me that \"in the counties of Washington and Allegheny, in Pennsylvania, laws of the United States were opposed, and the execution thereof obstructed, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings or by the powers vested in the marshal of that district\". On this call, momentous in the extreme, I sought and weighted what might best subdue the crisis. On the one hand the judiciary was pronounced to be stripped of its capacity to enforce the laws; crimes which reached the very existence of social order were perpetrated without control; the friends of Government were insulted, abused, and overawed into silence or an apparent acquiescence; and to yield to the treasonable fury of so small a portion of the United States would be to violate the fundamental principle of our Constitution, which enjoins that the will of the majority shall prevail. On the other, to array citizen against citizen, to publish the dishonor of such excesses, to encounter the expense and other embarrassments of so distant an expedition, were steps too delicate, too closely interwoven with many affecting considerations, to be lightly adopted. I postponed, therefore, the summoning of the militia immediately into the field, but I required them to be held in readiness, that if my anxious endeavors to reclaim the deluded and to convince the malignant of their danger should be fruitless, military force might be prepared to act before the season should be too far advanced. My proclamation of the 7th of August last was accordingly issued, and accompanied by the appointment of commissioners, who were charged to repair to the scene of insurrection. They were authorized to confer with any bodies of men or individuals. They were instructed to be candid and explicit in stating the sensations which had been excited in the Executive, and his earnest wish to avoid a resort to coercion; to represent, however, that, without submission, coercion must be the resort; but to invite them, at the same time, to return to the demeanor of faithful citizens, by such accommodations as lay within the sphere of Executive power. Pardon, too, was tendered to them by the Government of the United States and that of Pennsylvania, upon no other condition than a satisfactory assurance of obedience to the laws. Although the report of the commissioners marks their firmness and abilities, and must unite all virtuous men, by shewing that the means of conciliation have been exhausted, all of those who had committed or abetted the tumults did not subscribe the mild form which was proposed as the atonement, and the indications of a peaceable temper were neither sufficiently general nor conclusive to recommend or warrant the further suspension of the march of the militia. Thus the painful alternative could not be discarded. I ordered the militia to march, after once more admonishing the insurgents in my proclamation of the 25th of September last. It was a task too difficult to ascertain with precision the lowest degree of force competent to the quelling of the insurrection. From a respect, indeed, to economy and the ease of my fellow citizens belonging to the militia, it would have gratified me to accomplish such an estimate. My very reluctance to ascribe too much importance to the opposition, had its extent been accurately seen, would have been a decided inducement to the smallest efficient numbers. In this uncertainty, therefore, I put into motion fifteen thousand men, as being an army which, according to all human calculation, would be prompt and adequate in every view, and might, perhaps, by rendering resistance desperate, prevent the effusion of blood. Quotas had been assigned to the States of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, the governor of Pennsylvania having declared on this occasion an opinion which justified a requisition to the other States. As commander in chief of the militia when called into the actual service of the United States, I have visited the places of general rendezvous to obtain more exact information and to direct a plan for ulterior movements. Had there been room for a persuasion that the laws were secure from obstruction; that the civil magistrate was able to bring to justice such of the most culpable as have not embraced the proffered terms of amnesty, and may be deemed fit objects of example; that the friends to peace and good government were not in need of that aid and countenance which they ought always to receive, and, I trust, ever will receive, against the vicious and turbulent, I should have caught with avidity the opportunity of restoring the militia to their families and homes. But succeeding intelligence has tended to manifest the necessity of what has been done, it being now confessed by those who were not inclined to exaggerate the ill conduct of the insurgents that their malevolence was not pointed merely to a particular law, but that a spirit inimical to all order has actuated many of the offenders. If the state of things had afforded reason for the continuance of my presence with the army, it would not have been withholden. But every appearance assuring such an issue as will redound to the reputation and strength of the United States, I have judged it most proper to resume my duties at the seat of Government, leaving the chief command with the governor of Virginia. Still, however, as it is probable that in a commotion like the present, whatsoever may be the pretense, the purposes of mischief and revenge may not be laid aside, the stationing of a small force for a certain period in the four western counties of Pennsylvania will be indispensable, whether we contemplate the situation of those who are connected with the execution of the laws or of others who may have exposed themselves by an honorable attachment to them. Thirty days from the commencement of this session being the legal limitation of the employment of the militia, Congress can not be too early occupied with this subject. Among the discussions which may arise from this aspect of our affairs, and from the documents which will be submitted to Congress, it will not escape their observation that not only the inspector of the revenue, but other officers of the United States in Pennsylvania have, from their fidelity in the discharge of their functions, sustained material injuries to their property. The obligation and policy of indemnifying them are strong and obvious. It may also merit attention whether policy will not enlarge this provision to the retribution of other citizens who, though not under the ties of office, may have suffered damage by their generous exertions for upholding the Constitution and the laws. The amount, even if all the injured were included, would not be great, and on future emergencies the Government would be amply repaid by the influence of an example that he who incurs a loss in its defense shall find a recompense in its liberality. While there is cause to lament that occurrences of this nature should have disgraced the name or interrupted the tranquillity of any part of our community, or should have diverted to a new application any portion of the public resources, there are not wanting real and substantial consolations for the misfortune. It has demonstrated that our prosperity rests on solid foundations, by furnishing an additional proof that my fellow citizens understand the true principles of government and liberty; that they feel their inseparable union; that notwithstanding all the devices which have been used to sway them from their interest and duty, they are not as ready to maintain the authority of the laws against licentious invasions as they were to defend their rights against usurpation. It has been a spectacle displaying to the highest advantage of republican government to behold the most and the least wealthy of our citizens standing in the same ranks as private soldiers, preeminently distinguished by being the army of the Constitutionundeterred by a march of 300 miles over rugged mountains, by approach of an inclement season, or by any other discouragement. Nor ought I to omit to acknowledge the efficacious and patriotic cooperation which I have experienced from the chief magistrates of the States to which my requisitions have been addressed. To every description of citizens, let praise be given, but let them persevere in their affectionate vigilance over that precious depository of American happiness, the Constitution of the United States. Let them cherish it, too, for the sake of those who, from every clime, are daily seeking a dwelling in our land. And when in the calm moments of reflection they shall have retraced the origin and progress of the insurrection, let them determine whether it has not been fomented by combinations of men who, careless of consequences and disregarding the unerring truth that those who rouse can not always appease a civil convulsion, have disseminated, from an ignorance or perversion of facts, suspicions, jealousies, and accusations of the whole Government. Having thus fulfilled the engagement which I took when I entered into office, \"to the best of my ability to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States\", on you, gentlemen, and the people by whom you are deputed, I rely for support. In the arrangement to which the possibility of a similar contingency will naturally draw your attention it ought not to be forgotten that the militia laws have exhibited such striking defects as could not have been supplied by the zeal of our citizens. Besides the extraordinary expense and waste, which are not the least of the defects, every appeal to those laws is attended with a doubt on its success. The devising and establishing of a well regulated militia would be a genuine source of legislative honor and a perfect title to public gratitude. I therefore entertain a hope that the present session will not pass without carrying to its full energy the power of organizing, arming, and disciplining the militia, and thus providing, in the language of the Constitution, for calling them forth to execute the laws of the Union, suppress insurrections, and repel invasions. As auxiliary to the state of our defense, to which Congress can never too frequently recur, they will not omit to inquire whether the fortifications which have been already licensed by law be commensurate with our exigencies. The intelligence from the army under the command of General Wayne is a happy presage to our military operations against the hostile Indians north of the Ohio. From the advices which have been forwarded, the advance which he has made must have damped the ardor of the savages and weakened their obstinacy in waging war against the United States. And yet, even at this late hour, when our power to punish them can not be questioned, we shall not be unwilling to cement a lasting peace upon terms of candor, equity, and good neighborhood. Toward none of the Indian tribes have overtures of friendship been spared. The Creeks in particular are covered from encroachment by the imposition of the General Government and that of Georgia. From a desire also to remove the discontents of the Six Nations, a settlement mediated at Presque Isle, on Lake Erie, has been suspended, and an agent is now endeavoring to rectify any misconception into which they may have fallen. But I can not refrain from again pressing upon your deliberations the plan which I recommended at the last session for the improvement of harmony with all the Indians within our limits by the fixing and conducting of trading houses upon the principles then expressed. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: The time which has elapsed since the commencement of our fiscal measures has developed our pecuniary resources so as to open the way for a definite plan for the redemption of the public debt. It is believed that the result is such as to encourage Congress to consummate this work without delay. Nothing can more promote the permanent welfare of the nation and nothing would be more grateful to our constituents. Indeed, whatsoever is unfinished of our system of public credit can not be benefited by procrastination; and as far as may be practicable we ought to place that credit on grounds which can not be disturbed, and to prevent that progressive accumulation of debt which must ultimately endanger all governments. An estimate of the necessary appropriations, including the expenditures into which we have been driven by the insurrection, will be submitted to Congress. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: The Mint of the United States has entered upon the coinage of the precious metals, and considerable sums of defective coins and bullion have been lodged with the Director by individuals. There is a pleasing prospect that the institution will at no remote day realize the expectation which was originally formed of its utility. In subsequent communications certain circumstances of our intercourse with foreign nations will be transmitted to Congress. However, it may not be unseasonable to announce that my policy in our foreign transactions has been to cultivate peace with all the world; to observe the treaties with pure and absolute faith; to check every deviation from the line of impartiality; to explain what may have been misapprehended and correct what may have been injurious to any nation, and having thus acquired the right, to lose no time in acquiring the ability to insist upon justice being done to ourselves. Let us unite, therefore, in imploring the Supreme Ruler of Nations to spread his holy protection over these United States; to turn the machinations of the wicked to the confirming of our Constitution; to enable us at all times to root out internal sedition and put invasion to flight; to perpetuate to our country that prosperity which his goodness has already conferred, and to verify the anticipations of this Government being a safeguard of human rights. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington December 8, 1795 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: I trust I do not deceive myself when I indulge the persuasion that I have never met you at any period when more than at the present the situation of our public affairs has afforded just cause for mutual congratulation, and for inviting you to join with me in profound gratitude to the Author of all Good for the numerous and extraordinary blessings we enjoy. The termination of the long, expensive, and distressing war in which we have been engaged with certain Indians northwest of the Ohio is placed in the option of the United States by a treaty which the commander of our army has concluded provisionally with the hostile tribes in that region. In the adjustment of the terms the satisfaction of the Indians was deemed worthy no less of the policy than of the liberality of the United States as the necessary basis of durable tranquillity. The object, it is believed, has been fully attained. The articles agreed upon will immediately be laid before the Senate for their consideration. The Creek and Cherokee Indians, who alone of the Southern tribes had annoyed our frontiers, have lately confirmed their preexisting treaties with us, and were giving evidence of a sincere disposition to carry them into effect by the surrender of the prisoners and property they had taken. But we have to lament that the fair prospect in this quarter has been once more clouded by wanton murders, which some citizens of Georgia are represented to have recently perpetrated on hunting parties of the Creeks, which have again subjected that frontier to disquietude and danger, which will be productive of further expense, and may occasion more effusion of blood. Measures are pursuing to prevent or mitigate the usual consequences of such outrages, and with the hope of their succeeding at least to avert general hostility. A letter from the Emperor of Morocco announces to me his recognition of our treaty made with his father, the late Emperor, and consequently the continuance of peace with that power. With peculiar satisfaction I add that information has been received from an agent deputed on our part to Algiers importing that the terms of the treaty with the Dey and Regency of that country had been adjusted in such a manner as to authorize the expectation of a speedy peace and the restoration of our unfortunate fellow citizens from a grievous captivity. The latest advices from our envoy at the Court of Madrid give, moreover, the pleasing information that he had assurances of a speedy and satisfactory conclusion of his negotiation. While the event depending upon unadjusted particulars can not be regarded as ascertained, it is agreeable to cherish the expectation of an issue which, securing amicably very essential interests of the United States, will at the same time lay the foundation of lasting harmony with a power whose friendship we have uniformly and sincerely desired to cultivate. Though not before officially disclosed to the House of Representatives, you, gentlemen, are all apprised that a treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation has been negotiated with Great Britain, and that the Senate have advised and consented to its ratification upon a condition which excepts part of one article. Agreeably thereto, and to the best judgment I was able to form of the public interest after full and mature deliberation, I have added my sanction. The result on the part of His Britannic Majesty is unknown. When received, the subject will without delay be placed before Congress. This interesting summary of our affairs with regard to the foreign powers between whom and the United States controversies have subsisted, and with regard also to those of our Indian neighbors with whom we have been in a state of enmity or misunderstanding, opens a wide field for consoling and gratifying reflections. If by prudence and moderation on every side the extinguishment of all the causes of external discord which have heretofore menaced our tranquillity, on terms compatible with our national rights and honor, shall be the happy result, how firm and how precious a foundation will have been laid for accelerating, maturing, and establishing the prosperity of our country. Contemplating the internal situation as well as the external relations of the United States, we discover equal cause for contentment and satisfaction. While many of the nations of Europe, with their American dependencies, have been involved in a contest unusually bloody, exhausting, and calamitous, in which the evils of foreign war have been aggravated by domestic convulsion and insurrection; in which many of the arts most useful to society have been exposed to discouragement and decay; in which scarcity of subsistence has imbittered other sufferings; while even the anticipations of a return of the blessings of peace and repose are alloyed by the sense of heavy and accumulating burthens, which press upon all the departments of industry and threaten to clog the future springs of government, our favored country, happy in a striking contrast, has enjoyed tranquillitya tranquillity the more satisfactory because maintained at the expense of no duty. Faithful to ourselves, we have violated no obligation to others. Our agriculture, commerce, and manufactures prosper beyond former example, the molestations of our trade (to prevent a continuance of which, however, very pointed remonstrances have been made) being overbalanced by the aggregate benefits which it derives from a neutral position. Our population advances with a celerity which, exceeding the most sanguine calculations, proportionally augments our strength and resources, and guarantees our future security. Every part of the Union displays indications of rapid and various improvement; and with burthens so light as scarcely to be perceived, with resources fully adequate to our present exigencies, with governments founded on the genuine principles of rational liberty, and with mild and wholesome laws, is it too much to say that our country exhibits a spectacle of national happiness never surpassed, if ever before equaled? Placed in a situation every way so auspicious, motives of commanding force impel us, with sincere acknowledgment to Heaven and pure love to our country, to unite our efforts to preserve, prolong, and improve our immense advantages. To cooperate with you in this desirable work is a fervent and favorite wish of my heart. It is a valuable ingredient in the general estimate of our welfare that the part of our country which was lately the scene of disorder and insurrection now enjoys the blessings of quiet and order. The misled have abandoned their errors, and pay the respect to our Constitution and laws which is due from good citizens to the public authorities of the society. These circumstances have induced me to pardon generally the offenders here referred to, and to extend forgiveness to those who had been adjudged to capital punishment. For though I shall always think it a sacred duty to exercise with firmness and energy the constitutional powers with which I am vested, yet it appears to me no less consistent with the public good than it is with my personal feelings to mingle in the operations of Government every degree of moderation and tenderness which the national justice, dignity, and safety may permit. Gentlemen: Among the objects which will claim your attention in the course of the session, a review of our military establishment is not the least important. It is called for by the events which have changed, and may be expected still further to change, the relative situation of our frontiers. In this review you will doubtless allow due weight to the considerations that the questions between us and certain foreign powers are not yet finally adjusted, that the war in Europe is not yet terminated, and that our Western posts, when recovered, will demand provision for garrisoning and securing them. A statement of our present military force will be laid before you by the Department of War. With the review of our Army establishment is naturally connected that of the militia. It will merit inquiry what imperfections in the existing plan further experience may have unfolded. The subject is of so much moment in my estimation as to excite a constant solicitude that the consideration of it may be renewed until the greatest attainable perfection shall be accomplished. Time is wearing away some advantages for forwarding the object, while none better deserves the persevering attention of the public councils. While we indulge the satisfaction which the actual condition of our Western borders so well authorizes, it is necessary that we should not lose sight of an important truth which continually receives new confirmations, namely, that the provisions heretofore made with a view to the protection of the Indians from the violences of the lawless part of our frontier inhabitants are insufficient. It is demonstrated that these violences can now be perpetrated with impunity, and it can need no argument to prove that unless the murdering of Indians can be restrained by bringing the murderers to condign punishment, all the exertions of the Government to prevent destructive retaliations by the Indians will prove fruitless and all our present agreeable prospects illusory. The frequent destruction of innocent women and children, who are chiefly the victims of retaliation, must continue to shock humanity, and an enormous expense to drain the Treasury of the Union. To enforce upon the Indians the observance of justice it is indispensable that there shall be competent means of rendering justice to them. If these means can be devised by the wisdom of Congress, and especially if there can be added an adequate provision for supplying the necessities of the Indians on reasonable terms (a measure the mention of which I the more readily repeat, as in all the conferences with them they urge it with solicitude), I should not hesitate to entertain a strong hope of rendering our tranquillity permanent. I add with pleasure that the probability even of their civilization is not diminished by the experiments which have been thus far made under the auspices of Government. The accomplishment of this work, if practicable, will reflect undecaying luster on our national character and administer the most grateful consolations that virtuous minds can know. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: The state of our revenue, with the sums which have been borrowed and reimbursed pursuant to different acts of Congress, will be submitted from the proper Department, together with an estimate of the appropriations necessary to be made for the service of the ensuing year. Whether measures may not be advisable to reinforce the provision of the redemption of the public debt will naturally engage your examination. Congress have demonstrated their sense to be, and it were superfluous to repeat mine, that whatsoever will tend to accelerate the honorable extinction of our public debt accords as much with the true interest of our country as with the general sense of our constituents. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: The statements which will be laid before you relative to the Mint will shew the situation of that institution and the necessity of some further legislative provisions for carrying the business of it more completely into effect, and for checking abuses which appear to be arising in particular quarters. The progress in providing materials for the frigates and in building them, the state of the fortifications of our harbors, the measures which have been pursued for obtaining proper sites for arsenals and for replenishing our magazines with military stores, and the steps which have been taken toward the execution of the law for opening a trade with the Indians will likewise be presented for the information of Congress. Temperate discussion of the important subjects which may arise in the course of the session and mutual forbearance where there is a difference of opinion are too obvious and necessary for the peace, happiness, and welfare of our country to need any recommendation of mine. GO. WASHINGTON  State of the Union Address George Washington December 7, 1796 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In recurring to the internal situation of our country since I had last the pleasure to address you, I find ample reason for a renewed expression of that gratitude to the Ruler of the Universe which a continued series of prosperity has so often and so justly called forth. The acts of the last session which required special arrangements have been as far as circumstances would admit carried into operation. Measures calculated to insure a continuance of the friendship of the Indians and to preserve peace along the extent of our interior frontier have been digested and adopted. In the framing of these care has been taken to guard on the one hand our advanced settlements from the predatory incursions of those unruly individuals who can not be restrained by their tribes, and on the other hand to protect the rights secured to the Indians by treatyto draw them nearer to the civilized state and inspire them with correct conceptions of the power as well as justice of the Government. The meeting of the deputies from the Creek Nation at Colerain, in the State of Georgia, which had for a principal object the purchase of a parcel of their land by that State, broke up without its being accomplished, the nation having previous to their departure instructed them against making any sale. The occasion, however, has been improved to confirm by a new treaty with the Creeks their preexisting engagements with the United States, and to obtain their consent to the establishment of trading houses and military posts within their boundary, by means of which their friendship and the general peace may be more effectually secured. The period during the late session at which the appropriation was passed for carrying into effect the treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation between the United States and His Brittanic Majesty necessarily procrastinated the reception of the posts stipulated to be delivered beyond the date assigned for that event. As soon, however, as the GovernorGeneral of Canada could be addressed with propriety on the subject, arrangements were cordially and promptly concluded for their evacuation, and the United States took possession of the principal of them, comprehending Oswego, Niagara, Detroit, Michilimackinac, and Fort Miami, where such repairs and additions have been ordered to be made as appeared indispensable. The commissioners appointed on the part of the United States and of Great Britain to determine which is the river St. Croix mentioned in the treaty of peace of 1783, agreed in the choice of Egbert Benson, esq., of New York, for the 3rd commissioner. The whole met at St. Andrew's, in Passamaquoddy Bay, in the beginning of October, and directed surveys to be made of the rivers in dispute; but deeming it impracticable to have these surveys completed before the next year, they adjourned to meet at Boston in August, 1797, for the final decision of the question. Other commissioners appointed on the part of the United States, agreeably to the 7th article of the treaty with Great Britain, relative to captures and condemnation of vessels and other property, met the commissioners of His Britannic Majesty in London in August last, when John Trumbull, esq., was chosen by lot for the 5th commissioner. In October following the board were to proceed to business. As yet there has been no communication of commissioners on the part of Great Britain to unite with those who have been appointed on the part of the United States for carrying into effect the 6th article of the treaty. The treaty with Spain required that the commissioners for running the boundary line between the territory of the United States and His Catholic Majesty's provinces of East and West Florida should meet at the Natchez before the expiration of 6 months after the exchange of the ratifications, which was effected at Aranjuez on the 25th day of April; and the troops of His Catholic Majesty occupying any posts within the limits of the United States were within the same time period to be withdrawn. The commissioner of the United States therefore commenced his journey for the Natchez in September, and troops were ordered to occupy the posts from which the Spanish garrisons should be withdrawn. Information has been recently received of the appointment of a commissioner on the part of His Catholic Majesty for running the boundary line, but none of any appointment for the adjustment of the claims of our citizens whose vessels were captured by the armed vessels of Spain. In pursuance of the act of Congress passed in the last session for the protection and relief of American seamen, agents were appointed, one to reside in Great Britain and the other in the West Indies. The effects of the agency in the West Indies are not yet fully ascertained, but those which have been communicated afford grounds to believe the measure will be beneficial. The agent destined to reside in Great Britain declining to accept the appointment, the business has consequently devolved on the minister of the United States in London, and will command his attention until a new agent shall be appointed. After many delays and disappointments arising out of the European war, the final arrangements for fulfilling the engagements made to the Dey and Regency of Algiers will in all present appearance be crowned with success, but under great, though inevitable, disadvantages in the pecuniary transactions occasioned by that war, which will render further provision necessary. The actual liberation of all our citizens who were prisoners in Algiers, while it gratifies every feeling of heart, is itself an earnest of a satisfactory termination of the whole negotiation. Measures are in operation for effecting treaties with the Regencies of Tunis and Tripoli. To an active external commerce the protection of a naval force is indispensable. This is manifest with regard to wars in which a State is itself a party. But besides this, it is in our own experience that the most sincere neutrality is not a sufficient guard against the depredations of nations at war. To secure respect to a neutral flag requires a naval force organized and ready to vindicate it from insult or aggression. This may even prevent the necessity of going to war by discouraging belligerent powers from committing such violations of the rights of the neutral party as may, first or last, leave no other option. From the best information I have been able to obtain it would seem as if our trade to the Mediterranean without a protecting force will always be insecure and our citizens exposed to the calamities from which numbers of them have but just been relieved. These considerations invite the United States to look to the means, and to set about the gradual creation of a navy. The increasing progress of their navigation promises them at no distant period the requisite supply of seamen, and their means in other respects favor the undertaking. It is an encouragement, likewise, that their particular situation will give weight and influence to a moderate naval force in their hands. Will it not, then, be advisable to begin without delay to provide and lay up the materials for the building and equipping of ships of war, and to proceed in the work by degrees, in proportion as our resources shall render it practicable without inconvenience, so that a future war of Europe may not find our commerce in the same unprotected state in which it was found by the present? Congress have repeatedly, and not without success, directed their attention to the encouragement of manufactures. The object is of too much consequence not to insure a continuance of their efforts in every way which shall appear eligible. As a general rule, manufactures on public account are inexpedient; but where the state of things in a country leaves little hope that certain branches of manufacture will for a great length of time obtain, when these are of a nature essential to the furnishing and equipping of the public force in time of war, are not establishments for procuring them on public account to the extent of the ordinary demand for the public service recommended by strong considerations of national policy as an exception to the general rule? Ought our country to remain in such cases dependent on foreign supply, precarious because liable to be interrupted? If the necessary article should in this mode cost more in time of peace, will not the security and independence thence arising form an ample compensation? Establishments of this sort, commensurate only with the calls of the public service in time of peace, will in time of war easily be extended in proportion to the exigencies of the Government, and may even perhaps be made to yield a surplus for the supply of our citizens at large, so as to mitigate the privations from the interruption of their trade. If adopted, the plan ought to exclude all those branches which are already, or likely soon to be, established in the country, in order that there may be no danger of interference with pursuits of individual industry. It will not be doubted that with reference either to individual or national welfare agriculture is of primary importance. In proportion as nations advance in population and other circumstances of maturity this truth becomes more apparent, and renders the cultivation of the soil more and more an object of public patronage. Institutions for promoting it grow up, supported by the public purse; and to what object can it be dedicated with greater propriety? Among the means which have been employed to this end none have been attended with greater success than the establishment of boards (composed of proper characters) charged with collecting and diffusing information, and enabled by premiums and small pecuniary aids to encourage and assist a spirit of discovery and improvement. This species of establishment contributes doubly to the increase of improvement by stimulating to enterprise and experiment, and by drawing to a common center the results everywhere of individual skill and observation, and spreading them thence over the whole nation. Experience accordingly has shewn that they are very cheap instruments of immense national benefits. I have heretofore proposed to the consideration of Congress the expediency of establishing a national university and also a military academy. The desirableness of both these institutions has so constantly increased with every new view I have taken of the subject that I can not omit the opportunity of once for all recalling your attention to them. The assembly to which I address myself is too enlightened not to be fully sensible how much a flourishing state of the arts and sciences contributes to national prosperity and reputation. True it is that our country, much to its honor, contains many seminaries of learning highly repeatable and useful; but the funds upon which they rest are too narrow to command the ablest professors in the different departments of liberal knowledge for the institution contemplated, though they would be excellent auxiliaries. Amongst the motives to such an institution, the assimilation of the principles, opinions, and manners of our countrymen by the common education of a portion of our youth from every quarter well deserves attention. The more homogenous our citizens can be made in these particulars the greater will be our prospect of permanent union; and a primary object of such a national institution should be the education of our youth in the science of government. In a republic what species of knowledge can be equally important and what duty more pressing on its legislature than to patronize a plan for communicating it to those who are to be the future guardians of the liberties of the country? The institution of a military academy is also recommended by cogent reasons. However pacific the general policy of a nation may be, it ought never to be without an adequate stock of military knowledge for emergencies. The first would impair the energy of its character, and both would hazard its safety or expose it to greater evils when war could not be avoided; besides that, war might often not depend upon its own choice. In proportion as the observance of pacific maxims might exempt a nation from the necessity of practicing the rules of the military art ought to be its care in preserving and transmitting, by proper establishments, the knowledge of that art. Whatever argument may be drawn from particular examples superficially viewed, a thorough examination of the subject will evince that the art of war is at once comprehensive and complicated, that it demands much previous study, and that the possession of it in its most improved and perfect state is always of great moment to the security of a nation. This, therefore, ought to be a serious care of every government, and for this purpose an academy where a regular course of instruction is given is an obvious expedient which different nations have successfully employed. The compensation to the officers of the United States in various instances, and in none more than in respect to the most important stations, appear to call for legislative revision. The consequences of a defective provision are of serious import to the Government. If private wealth is to supply the defect of public retribution, it will greatly contract the sphere within which the selection of character for office is to be made, and will proportionally diminish the probability of a choice of men able as well as upright. Besides that, it should be repugnant to the vital principles of our Government virtually to exclude from public trusts talents and virtue unless accompanied by wealth. While in our external relations some serious inconveniences and embarrassments have been overcome and others lessened, it is with much pain and deep regret I mention that circumstances of a very unwelcome nature have lately occurred. Our trade has suffered and is suffering extensive injuries in the West Indies from the cruisers and agents of the French Republic, and communications have been received from its minister here which indicate the danger of a further disturbance of our commerce by its authority, and which are in other respects far from agreeable. It has been my constant, sincere, and earnest wish, in conformity with that of our nation, to maintain cordial harmony and a perfectly friendly understanding with that Republic. This wish remains unabated, and I shall persevere in the endeavor to fulfill it to the utmost extent of what shall be consistent with a just and indispensable regard to the rights and honor of our country; nor will I easily cease to cherish the expectation that a spirit of justice, candor, and friendship on the part of the Republic will eventually insure success. In pursuing this course, however, I can not forget what is due to the character of our Government and nation, or to a full and entire confidence in the good sense, patriotism, selfrespect, and fortitude of my countrymen. I reserve for a special message a more particular communication on this interesting subject. Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: I have directed an estimate of the appropriations necessary for the service of the ensuing year to be submitted from the proper Department, with a view of the public receipts and expenditures to the latest period to which an account can be prepared. It is with satisfaction I am able to inform you that the revenues of the United States continue in a state of progressive improvement. A reenforcement of the existing provisions for discharging our public debt was mentioned in my address at the opening of the last session. Some preliminary steps were taken toward it, the maturing of which will no doubt engage your zealous attention during the present. I will only add that it will afford me a heartfelt satisfaction to concur in such further measures as will ascertain to our country the prospect of a speedy extinguishment of the debt. Posterity may have cause to regret if from any motive intervals of tranquillity are left unimproved for accelerating this valuable end. Gentlemen of the Senate and of the House of Representatives: My solicitude to see the militia of the United States placed on an efficient establishment has been so often and so ardently expressed that I shall but barely recall the subject to your view on the present occasion, at the same time that I shall submit to your inquiry whether our harbors are yet sufficiently secured. The situation in which I now stand for the last time, in the midst of the representatives of the people of the United States, naturally recalls the period when the administration of the present form of government commenced, and I can not omit the occasion to congratulate you and my country on the success of the experiment, nor to repeat my fervent supplications to the Supreme Ruler of the Universe and Sovereign Arbiter of Nations that His providential care may still be extended to the United States, that the virtue and happiness of the people may be preserved, and that the Government which they have instituted for the protection of their liberties may be perpetual. GO. WASHINGTON State of the Union Addresses of James Madison The addresses are separated by three asterisks:  Dates of addresses by James Madison in this eBook: November 29, 1809 December 5, 1810 November 5, 1811 November 4, 1812 December 7, 1813 September 20, 1814 December 5, 1815 December 3, 1816  State of the Union Address James Madison November 29, 1809 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: At the period of our last meeting I had the satisfaction of communicating an adjustment with one of the principal belligerent nations, highly important in itself, and still more so as presaging a more extended accommodation. It is with deep concern I am now to inform you that the favorable prospect has been overclouded by a refusal of the British Government to abide by the act of its minister plenipotentiary, and by its ensuing policy toward the United States as seen through the communications of the minister sent to replace him. Whatever pleas may be urged for a disavowal of engagements formed by diplomatic functionaries in cases where by the terms of the engagements a mutual ratification is reserved, or where notice at the time may have been given of a departure from instructions, or in extraordinary cases essentially violating the principles of equity, a disavowal could not have been apprehended in a case where no such notice or violation existed, where no such ratification was reserved, and more especially where, as is now in proof, an engagement to be executed without any such ratification was contemplated by the instructions given, and where it had with good faith been carried into immediate execution on the part of the United States. These considerations not having restrained the British Government from disavowing the arrangement by virtue of which its orders in council were to be revoked, and the event authorizing the renewal of commercial intercourse having thus not taken place, it necessarily became a question of equal urgency and importance whether the act prohibiting that intercourse was not to be considered as remaining in legal force. This question being, after due deliberation, determined in the affirmative, a proclamation to that effect was issued. It could not but happen, however, that a return to this state of things from that which had followed an execution of the arrangement by the United States would involve difficulties. With a view to diminish these as much as possible, the instructions from the Secretary of the Treasury now laid before you were transmitted to the collectors of the several ports. If in permitting British vessels to depart without giving bonds not to proceed to their own ports it should appear that the tenor of legal authority has not been strictly pursued, it is to be ascribed to the anxious desire which was felt that no individuals should be injured by so unforeseen an occurrence; and I rely on the regard of Congress for the equitable interests of our own citizens to adopt whatever further provisions may be found requisite for a general remission of penalties involuntarily incurred. The recall of the disavowed minister having been followed by the appointment of a successor, hopes were indulged that the new mission would contribute to alleviate the disappointment which had been produced, and to remove the causes which had so long embarrassed the good understanding of the two nations. It could not be doubted that it would at least be charged with conciliatory explanations of the step which had been taken and with proposals to be substituted for the rejected arrangement. Reasonable and universal as this expectation was, it also has not been fulfilled. From the first official disclosures of the new minister it was found that he had received no authority to enter into explanations relative to either branch of the arrangement disavowed nor any authority to substitute proposals as to that branch which concerned the British orders in council, and, finally, that his proposals with regard to the other branch, the attack on the frigate Chesapeake, were founded on a presumption repeatedly declared to be inadmissible by the United States, that the first step toward adjustment was due from them, the proposals at the same time omitting even a reference to the officer answerable for the murderous aggression, and asserting a claim not less contrary to the British laws and British practice than to the principles and obligations of the United States. The correspondence between the Department of State and this minister will show how unessentially the features presented in its commencement have been varied in its progress. It will show also that, forgetting the respect due to all governments, he did not refrain from imputations on this, which required that no further communications should be received from him. The necessity of this step will be made known to His Britannic Majesty through the minister plenipotentiary of the United States in London; and it would indicate a want of the confidence due to a Government which so well understands and exacts what becomes foreign ministers near it not to infer that the misconduct of its own representative will be viewed in the same light in which it has been regarded here. The British Government will learn at the same time that a ready attention will be given to communications through any channel which may be substituted. It will be happy if the change in this respect should be accompanied by a favorable revision of the unfriendly policy which has been so long pursued toward the United States. With France, the other belligerent, whose trespasses on our commercial rights have long been the subject of our just remonstrances, the posture of our relations does not correspond with the measures taken on the part of the United States to effect a favorable change. The result of the several communications made to her Government, in pursuance of the authorities vested by Congress in the Executive, is contained in the correspondence of our minister at Paris now laid before you. By some of the other belligerents, although professing just and amicable dispositions, injuries materially affecting our commerce have not been duly controlled or repressed. In these cases the interpositions deemed proper on our part have not been omitted. But it well deserves the consideration of the Legislature how far both the safety and the honor of the American flag may be consulted, by adequate provisions against that collusive prostitution of it by individuals unworthy of the American name which has so much flavored the real or pretended suspicions under which the honest commerce of their fellow citizens has suffered. In relation to the powers on the coast of Barbary, nothing has occurred which is not of a nature rather to inspire confidence than distrust as to the continuance of the existing amity. With our Indian neighbors, the just and benevolent system continued toward them has also preserved peace, and is more and more advancing habits favorable to their civilization and happiness. From a statement which will be made by the Secretary of War it will be seen that the fortifications on our maritime frontier are in many of the ports completed, affording the defense which was contemplated, and that a further time will be required to render complete the works in the harbor of New York and in some other places. By the enlargement of the works and the employment of a greater number of hands at the public armories the supply of small arms of an improving quality appears to be annually increasing at a rate that, with those made on private contract, may be expected to go far toward providing for the public exigency. The act of Congress providing for the equipment of our vessels of war having been fully carried into execution, I refer to the statement of the Secretary of the Navy for the information which may be proper on that subject. To that statement is added a view of the transfers of appropriations authorized by the act of the session preceding the last and of the grounds on which the transfers were made. Whatever may be the course of your deliberations on the subject of our military establishments, I should fail in my duty in not recommending to your serious attention the importance of giving to our militia, the great bulwark of our security and resource of our power, an organization best adapted to eventual situations for which the United States ought to be prepared. The sums which had been previously accumulated in the Treasury, together with the receipts during the year ending on the 30th of September last (and amounting to more than 9 millions), have enabled us to fulfill all our engagements and to defray the current expenses of Government without recurring to any loan. But the insecurity of our commerce and the consequent diminution of the public revenue will probably produce a deficiency in the receipts of the ensuing year, for which and for other details I refer to the statements which will be transmitted from the Treasury. In the state which has been presented of our affairs with the great parties to a disastrous and protracted war, carried on in a mode equally injurious and unjust to the United States as a neutral nation, the wisdom of the National Legislature will be again summoned to the important decision on the alternatives before them. That these will be met in a spirit worthy the councils of a nation conscious both of its rectitude and of its rights, and careful as well of its honor as of its peace, I have an entire confidence; and that the result will be stamped by a unanimity becoming the occasion, and be supported by every portion of our citizens with a patriotism enlightened and invigorated by experience, ought as little to be doubted. In the midst of the wrongs and vexations experienced from external causes there is much room for congratulation on the prosperity and happiness flowing from our situation at home. The blessing of health has never been more universal. The fruits of the seasons, though in particular articles and districts short of their usual redundancy, are more than sufficient for our wants and our comforts. The face of our country ever presents evidence of laudable enterprise, of extensive capital, and of durable improvement. In a cultivation of the materials and the extension of useful manufactures, more especially in the general application to household fabrics, we behold a rapid diminution of our dependence on foreign supplies. Nor is it unworthy of reflection that this revolution in our pursuits and habits is in no slight degree a consequence of those impolitic and arbitrary edicts by which the contending nations, in endeavoring each of them to obstruct our trade with the other, have so far abridged our means of procuring the productions and manufactures of which our own are now taking the place. Recollecting always that for every advantage which may contribute to distinguish our lot from that to which others are doomed by the unhappy spirit of the times we are indebted to that Divine Providence whose goodness has been so remarkably extended to this rising nation, it becomes us to cherish a devout gratitude, and to implore from the same omnipotent source a blessing on the consultations and measures about to be undertaken for the welfare of our beloved country.  State of the Union Address James Madison December 5, 1810 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: The embarrassments which have prevailed in our foreign relations, and so much employed the deliberations of Congress, make it a primary duty in meeting you to communicate whatever may have occurred in that branch of our national affairs. The act of the last session of Congress concerning the commercial intercourse between the United States and Great Britain and France and their dependencies having invited in a new form a termination of their edicts against our neutral commerce, copies of the act were immediately forwarded to our ministers at London and Paris, with a view that its object might be within the early attention of the French and British Governments. By the communication received through our minister at Paris it appeared that knowledge of the act by the French Government was followed by a declaration that the Berlin and Milan decrees were revoked, and would cease to have effect on the first day of November ensuing. These being the only known edicts of France within the description of the act, and the revocation of them being such that they ceased at that date to violate our neutral commerce, the fact, as prescribed by law, was announced by a proclamation bearing date the 2nd of November. It would have well accorded with the conciliatory views indicated by this proceeding on the part of France to have extended them to all the grounds of just complaint which now remain unadjusted with the United States. It was particularly anticipated that, as a further evidence of just dispositions toward them, restoration would have been immediately made of the property of our citizens under a misapplication of the principle of reprisals combined with a misconstruction of a law of the United States. This expectation has not been fulfilled. From the British Government no communication on the subject of the act has been received. To a communication from our minister at London of a revocation by the French Government of its Berlin and Milan decrees it was answered that the British system would be relinquished as soon as the repeal of the French decrees should have actually taken effect and the commerce of neutral nations have been restored to the condition in which it stood previously to the promulgation of those decrees. This pledge, although it does not necessarily import, does not exclude the intention of relinquishing, along with the others in council, the practice of those novel blockades which have a like effect of interrupting our neutral commerce, and this further justice to the United States is the rather to be looked for, in as much as the blockades in question, being not more contrary to the established law of nations than inconsistent with the rules of blockade formally recognized by Great Britain herself, could have no alleged basis other than the plea of retaliation alleged as the basis of the orders in council. Under the modification of the original orders of November, 1807, into the orders of April, 1809, there is, indeed, scarcely a nominal distinction between the orders and the blockades. One of those illegitimate blockades, bearing date in May, 1806, having been expressly avowed to be still unrescinded, and to be in effect comprehended in the orders in council, was too distinctly brought within the purview of the act of Congress not to be comprehended in the explanation of the requisites to a compliance with it. The British Government was accordingly apprised by our minister near it that such was the light in which the subject was to be regarded. On the other important subjects depending between the United States and the Government no progress has been made from which an early and satisfactory result can be relied on. In this new posture of our relations with those powers the consideration of Congress will be properly turned to a removal of doubts which may occur in the exposition and of difficulties in the execution of the act above cited. The commerce of the United States with the north of Europe, heretofore much vexed by licentious cruisers, particularly under the Danish flag, has latterly been visited with fresh and extensive depredations. The measures pursued in behalf of our injured citizens not having obtained justice for them, a further and more formal interposition with the Danish Government is contemplated. The principles which have been maintained by that Government in relation to neutral commerce, and the friendly professions of His Danish Majesty toward the United States, are valuable pledges in favor of a successful issue. Among the events growing out of the state of the Spanish Monarchy, our attention was imperiously attracted to the change developing itself in that portion of West Florida which, though of right appertaining to the United States, had remained in the possession of Spain awaiting the result of negotiations for its actual delivery to them. The Spanish authority was subverted and a situation produced exposing the country to ulterior events which might essentially affect the rights and welfare of the Union. In such a conjuncture I did not delay the interposition required for the occupancy of the territory west of the river Perdido, to which the title of the United States extends, and to which the laws provided for the Territory of Orleans are applicable. With this view, the proclamation of which a copy is laid before you was confided to the governor of that Territory to be carried into effect. The legality and necessity of the course pursued assure me of the favorable light in which it will present itself to the Legislature, and of the promptitude with which they will supply whatever provisions may be due to the essential rights and equitable interests of the people thus brought into the bosom of the American family. Our amity with the powers of Barbary, with the exception of a recent occurrence at Tunis, of which an explanation is just received, appears to have been uninterrupted and to have become more firmly established. With the Indian tribes also the peace and friendship of the United States are found to be so eligible that the general disposition to preserve both continues to gain strength. I feel particular satisfaction in remarking that an interior view of our country presents us with grateful proofs of its substantial and increasing prosperity. To a thriving agriculture and the improvements related to it is added a highly interesting extension of useful manufactures, the combined product of professional occupations and of household industry. Such indeed is the experience of economy as well as of policy in these substitutes for supplies heretofore obtained by foreign commerce that in a national view the change is justly regarded as of itself more than a recompense for those privations and losses resulting from foreign injustice which furnished the general impulse required for its accomplishment. How far it may be expedient to guard the infancy of this improvement in the distribution of labor by regulations of the commercial tariff is a subject which can not fail to suggest itself to your patriotic reflections. It will rest with the consideration of Congress also whether a provident as well as fair encouragement would not be given to our navigation by such regulations as would place it on a level of competition with foreign vessels, particularly in transporting the important and bulky productions of our own soil. The failure of equality and reciprocity in the existing regulations on this subject operates in our ports as a premium to foreign competitors, and the inconvenience must increase as these may be multiplied under more favorable circumstances by the more than countervailing encouragements now given them by the laws of their respective countries. Whilst it is universally admitted that a wellinstructed people alone can be permanently a free people, and whilst it is evident that the means of diffusing and improving useful knowledge form so small a proportion of the expenditures for national purposes, I can not presume it to be unseasonable to invite your attention to the advantages of superadding to the means of education provided by the several States a seminary of learning instituted by the National Legislature within the limits of their exclusive jurisdiction, the expense of which might be defrayed or reimbursed out of the vacant grounds which have accrued to the nation within those limits. Such an institution, though local in its legal character, would be universal in its beneficial effects. By enlightening the opinions, by expanding the patriotism, and by assimilating the principles, the sentiments, and the manners of those who might resort to this temple of science, to be redistributed in due time through every part of the community, sources of jealousy and prejudice would be diminished, the features of national character would be multiplied, and greater extent given to social harmony. But, above all, a wellconstituted seminary in the center of the nation is recommended by the consideration that the additional instruction emanating from it would contribute not less to strengthen the foundations than to adorn the structure of our free and happy system of government. Among the commercial abuses still committed under the American flag, and leaving in force my former reference to that subject, it appears that American citizens are instrumental in carrying on a traffic in enslaved Africans, equally in violation of the laws of humanity and in defiance of those of their own country. The same just and benevolent motives which produced interdiction in force against this criminal conduct will doubtless be felt by Congress in devising further means of suppressing the evil. In the midst of uncertainties necessarily connected with the great interests of the United States, prudence requires a continuance of our defensive and precautionary arrangement. The Secretary of War and Secretary of the Navy will submit the statements and estimates which may aid Congress in their ensuing provisions for the land and naval forces. The statements of the latter will include a view of the transfers of appropriations in the naval expenditures and in the grounds on which they were made. The fortifications for the defense of our maritime frontier have been prosecuted according to the plan laid down in 1808. The works, with some exceptions, are completed and furnished with ordnance. Those for the security of the city of New York, though far advanced toward completion, will require a further time and appropriation. This is the case with a few others, either not completed or in need of repairs. The improvements in quality and quantity made in the manufacture of cannon and small arms, both at the public armories and private factories, warrant additional confidence in the competency of these resources for supplying the public exigencies. These preparations for arming the militia having thus far provided for one of the objects contemplated by the power vested in Congress with respect to that great bulwark of the public safety, it is for their consideration whether further provisions are not requisite for the other contemplated objects of organization and discipline. To give to this great mass of physical and moral force the efficiency which it merits, and is capable of receiving, it is indispensable that they should be instructed and practiced in the rules by which they are to be governed. Toward an accomplishment of this important work I recommend for the consideration of Congress the expediency of instituting a system which shall in the first instance call into the field at the public expense and for a given time certain portions of the commissioned and noncommissioned officers. The instruction and discipline thus acquired would gradually diffuse through the entire body of the militia that practical knowledge and promptitude for active service which are the great ends to be pursued. Experience has left no doubt either of the necessity or of the efficacy of competent military skill in those portions of an army in fitting it for the final duties which it may have to perform. The Corps of Engineers, with the Military Academy, are entitled to the early attention of Congress. The buildings at the seat fixed by law for the present Academy are so far in decay as not to afford the necessary accommodation. But a revision of the law is recommended, principally with a view to a more enlarged cultivation and diffusion of the advantages of such institutions, by providing professorships for all the necessary branches of military instruction, and by the establishment of an additional academy at the seat of Government or elsewhere. The means by which war, as well for defense as for offense, are now carried on render these schools of the more scientific operations an indispensable part of every adequate system. Even among nations whose large standing armies and frequent wars afford every other opportunity of instruction these establishments are found to be indispensable for the due attainment of the branches of military science which require a regular course of study and experiment. In a government happily without the other opportunities seminaries where the elementary principles of the art of war can be taught without actual war, and without the expense of extensive and standing armies, have the precious advantage of uniting an essential preparation against external danger with a scrupulous regard to internal safety. In no other way, probably, can a provision of equal efficacy for the public defense be made at so little expense or more consistently with the public liberty. The receipts into the Treasury during the year ending on the 30th of September last (and amounting to more than 8.5 millions) have exceeded the current expenses of the Government, including the interest on the public debt. For the purpose of reimbursing at the end of the year 3.75 millions of the principal, a loan, as authorized by law, had been negotiated to that amount, but has since been reduced to 2.75 millions, the reduction being permitted by the state of the Treasury, in which there will be a balance remaining at the end of the year estimated at 2 millions. For the probable receipts of the next year and other details I refer to statements which will be transmitted from the Treasury, and which will enable you to judge what further provisions may be necessary for the ensuing years. Reserving for future occasions in the course of the session whatever other communications may claim your attention, I close the present by expressing my reliance, under the blessing of Divine Providence, on the judgement and patriotism which will guide your measures at a period particularly calling for united councils and flexible exertions for the welfare of our country, and by assuring you of the fidelity and alacrity with which my cooperation will be afforded.  State of the Union Address James Madison November 5, 1811 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In calling you together sooner than a separation from your homes would otherwise have been required I yielded to considerations drawn from the posture of our foreign affairs, and in fixing the present for the time of your meeting regard was had to the probability of further developments of the policy of the belligerent powers toward this country which might the more unite the national councils in the measures to be pursued. At the close of the last session of Congress it was hoped that the successive confirmations of the extinction of the French decrees, so far as they violated our neutral commerce, would have induced the Government of Great Britain to repeal its orders in council, and thereby authorize a removal of the existing obstructions to her commerce with the United States. Instead of this reasonable step toward satisfaction and friendship between the two nations, the orders were, at a moment when least to have been expected, put into more rigorous execution; and it was communicated through the British envoy just arrived that whilst the revocation of the edicts of France, as officially made known to the British Government, was denied to have taken place, it was an indispensable condition of the repeal of the British orders that commerce should be restored to a footing that would admit the productions and manufactures of Great Britain, when owned by neutrals, into markets shut against them by her enemy, the United States being given to understand that in the mean time a continuance of their nonimportation act would lead to measures of retaliation. At a later date it has indeed appeared that a communication to the British Government of fresh evidence of the repeal of the French decrees against our neutral trade was followed by an intimation that it had been transmitted to the British plenipotentiary here in order that it might receive full consideration in the depending discussions. This communication appears not to have been received; but the transmission of it hither, instead of founding on it an actual repeal of the orders or assurances that the repeal would ensue, will not permit us to rely on any effective change in the British cabinet. To be ready to meet with cordiality satisfactory proofs of such a change, and to proceed in the mean time in adapting our measures to the views which have been disclosed through that minister will best consult our whole duty. In the unfriendly spirit of those disclosures indemnity and redress for other wrongs have continued to be withheld, and our coasts and the mouths of our harbors have again witnessed scenes not less derogatory to the dearest of our national rights than vexation to the regular course of our trade. Among the occurrences produced by the conduct of British ships of war hovering on our coasts was an encounter between one of them and the American frigate commanded by Captain Rodgers, rendered unavoidable on the part of the latter by a fire commenced without cause by the former, whose commander is therefore alone chargeable with the blood unfortunately shed in maintaining the honor of the American flag. The proceedings of a court of inquiry requested by Captain Rodgers are communicated, together with the correspondence relating to the occurrence, between the Secretary of State and His Britannic Majesty's envoy. To these are added the several correspondences which have passed on the subject of the British orders in council, and to both the correspondence relating to the Floridas, in which Congress will be made acquainted with the interposition which the Government of Great Britain has thought proper to make against the proceeding of the United States. The justice and fairness which have been evinced on the part of the United States toward France, both before and since the revocation of her decrees, authorized an expectation that her Government would have followed up that measure by all such others as were due to our reasonable claims, as well as dictated by its amicable professions. No proof, however, is yet given of an intention to repair the other wrongs done to the United States, and particularly to restore the great amount of American property seized and condemned under edicts which, though not affecting our neutral relations, and therefore not entering into questions between the United States and other belligerents, were nevertheless founded in such unjust principles that the reparation ought to have been prompt and ample. In addition to this and other demands of strict right on that nation, the United States have much reason to be dissatisfied with the rigorous and unexpected restrictions to which their trade with the French dominions has been subjected, and which, if not discontinued, will require at least corresponding restrictions on importations from France into the United States. On all those subjects our minister plenipotentiary lately sent to Paris has carried with him the necessary instructions, the result of which will be communicated to you, by ascertaining the ulterior policy of the French Government toward the United States, will enable you to adapt to it that of the United States toward France. Our other foreign relations remain without unfavorable changes. With Russia they are on the best footing of friendship. The ports of Sweden have afforded proofs of friendly dispositions toward our commerce in the councils of that nation also, and the information from our special minister to Denmark shews that the mission had been attended with valuable effects to our citizens, whose property had been so extensively violated and endangered by cruisers under the Danish flag. Under the ominous indications which commanded attention it became a duty to exert the means committed to the executive department in providing for the general security. The works of defense on our maritime frontier have accordingly been prosecuted with an activity leaving little to be added for the completion of the most important ones, and, as particularly suited for cooperation in emergencies, a portion of the gun boats have in particular harbors been ordered into use. The ships of war before in commission, with the addition of a frigate, have been chiefly employed as a cruising guard to the rights of our coast, and such a disposition has been made of our land forces as was thought to promise the services most appropriate and important. In this disposition is included a force consisting of regulars and militia, embodied in the Indiana Territory and marched toward our northwestern frontier. This measure was made requisite by several murders and depredations committed by Indians, but more especially by the menacing preparations and aspect of a combination of them on the Wabash, under the influence and direction of a fanatic of the Shawanese tribe. With these exceptions the Indian tribes retain their peaceable dispositions toward us, and their usual pursuits. I must now add that the period is arrived which claims from the legislative guardians of the national rights a system of more ample provisions for maintaining them. Notwithstanding the scrupulous justice, the protracted moderation, and the multiplied efforts on the part of the United States to substitute for the accumulating dangers to the peace of the two countries all the mutual advantages of reestablished friendship and confidence, we have seen that the British cabinet perseveres not only in withholding a remedy for other wrongs, so long and so loudly calling for it, but in the execution, brought home to the threshold of our territory, of measures which under existing circumstances have the character as well as the effect of war on our lawful commerce. With this evidence of hostile inflexibility in trampling on rights which no independent nation can relinquish, Congress will feel the duty of putting the United States into an armor and an attitude demanded by the crisis, and corresponding with the national spirit and expectations. I recommend, accordingly, that adequate provisions be made for filling the ranks and prolonging the enlistments of the regular troops; for an auxiliary force to be engaged for a more limited term; for the acceptance of volunteer corps, whose patriotic ardor may court a participation in urgent services; for detachments as they may be wanted of other portions of the militia, and for such a preparation of the great body as will proportion its usefulness to its intrinsic capacities. Nor can the occasion fail to remind you of the importance of those military seminaries which in every event will form a valuable and frugal part of our military establishment. The manufacture of cannon and small arms has proceeded with due success, and the stock and resources of all the necessary munitions are adequate to emergencies. It will not be inexpedient, however, for Congress to authorize an enlargement of them. Your attention will of course be drawn to such provisions on the subject of our naval force as may be required for the services to which it may be best adapted. I submit to Congress the seasonableness also of an authority to augment the stock of such materials as are imperishable in their nature, or may not at once be attainable. In contemplating the scenes which distinguish this momentous epoch, and estimating their claims to our attention, it is impossible to overlook those developing themselves among the great communities which occupy the southern portion of our own hemisphere and extend into our neighborhood. An enlarged philanthropy and an enlightened forecast concur in imposing on the national councils an obligation to take a deep interest in their destinies, to cherish reciprocal sentiments of good will, to regard the progress of events, and not to be unprepared for whatever order of things may be ultimately established. Under another aspect of our situation the early attention of Congress will be due to the expediency of further guards against evasions and infractions of our commercial laws. The practice of smuggling, which is odious everywhere, and particularly criminal in free governments, where, the laws being made by all for the good of all, a fraud is committed on every individual as well as on the state, attains its utmost guilt when it blends with a pursuit of ignominious gain a treacherous subserviency, in the transgressors, to a foreign policy adverse to that of their own country. It is then that the virtuous indignation of the public should be enabled to manifest itself through the regular animadversions of the most competent laws. To secure greater respect to our mercantile flag, and to the honest interests which it covers, it is expedient also that it be made punishable in our citizens to accept licenses from foreign governments for a trade unlawfully interdicted by them to other American citizens, or to trade under false colors or papers of any sort. A prohibition is equally called for against the acceptance by our citizens of special licenses to be used in a trade with the United States, and against the admission into particular ports of the United States of vessels from foreign countries authorized to trade with particular ports only. Although other subjects will press more immediately on your deliberations, a portion of them can not but be well bestowed on the just and sound policy of securing to our manufactures the success they have attained, and are still attaining, in some degree, under the impulse of causes not permanent, and to our navigation, the fair extent of which is at present abridged by the unequal regulations of foreign governments. Besides the reasonableness of saving our manufactures from sacrifices which a change of circumstances might bring on them, the national interest requires that, with regard to such articles at least as belong to our defense and our primary wants, we should not be left in unnecessary dependence on external supplies. And whilst foreign governments adhere to the existing discriminations in their ports against our navigation, and an equality or lesser discrimination is enjoyed by their navigation in our ports, the effect can not be mistaken, because it has been seriously felt by our shipping interests; and in proportion as this takes place the advantages of an independent conveyance of our products to foreign markets and of a growing body of mariners trained by their occupations for the service of their country in times of danger must be diminished. The receipts into the Treasury during the year ending on the 30th day of September last have exceeded 13.5 millions, and have enabled us to defray the current expenses, including the interest on the public debt, and to reimburse more than 5 millions of the principal without recurring to the loan authorized by the act of the last session. The temporary loan obtained in the latter end of the year 1810 has also been reimbursed, and is not included in that amount. The decrease of revenue arising from the situation of our commerce, and the extraordinary expenses which have and may become necessary, must be taken into view in making commensurate provisions for the ensuing year; and I recommend to your consideration the propriety of insuring a sufficiency of annual revenue at least to defray the ordinary expenses of Government, and to pay the interest on the public debt, including that on new loans which may be authorized. I can not close this communication without expressing my deep sense of the crisis in which you are assembled, my confidence in a wise and honorable result to your deliberations, and assurances of the faithful zeal with which my cooperating duties will be discharged, invoking at the same time the blessing of Heaven on our beloved country and on all the means that may be employed in vindicating its rights and advancing its welfare.  State of the Union Address James Madison November 4, 1812 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: On our present meeting it is my first duty to invite your attention to the providential favors which our country has experienced in the unusual degree of health dispensed to its inhabitants, and in the rich abundance with which the earth has rewarded the labors bestowed on it. In the successful cultivation of other branches of industry, and in the progress of general improvement favorable to the national prosperity, there is just occasion also for our mutual congratulations and thankfulness. With these blessings are necessarily mingled the pressures and vicissitudes incident to the state of war into which the United States have been forced by the perseverance of a foreign power in its system of injustice and aggression. Previous to its declaration it was deemed proper, as a measure of precaution and forecast, that a considerable force should be placed in the Michigan Territory with a general view to its security, and, in the event of war, to such operations in the uppermost Canada as would intercept the hostile influence of Great Britain over the savages, obtain the command of the lake on which that part of Canada borders, and maintain cooperating relations with such forces as might be most conveniently employed against other parts. BrigadierGeneral Hull was charged with this provisional service, having under his command a body of troops composed of regulars and of volunteers from the State of Ohio. Having reached his destination after his knowledge of the war, and possessing discretionary authority to act offensively, he passed into the neighboring territory of the enemy with a prospect of easy and victorious progress. The expedition, nevertheless, terminated unfortunately, not only in a retreat to the town and fort of Detroit, but in the surrender of both and of the gallant corps commanded by that officer. The causes of this painful reverse will be investigated by a military tribunal. A distinguishing feature in the operations which preceded and followed this adverse event is the use made by the enemy of the merciless savages under their influence. Whilst the benevolent policy of the United States invariably recommended peace and promoted civilization among that wretched portion of the human race, and was making exertions to dissuade them from taking either side in the war, the enemy has not scrupled to call to his aid their ruthless ferocity, armed with the horrors of those instruments of carnage and torture which are known to spare neither age nor sex. In this outrage against the laws of honorable war and against the feelings sacred to humanity the British commanders can not resort to a plea of retaliation, for it is committed in the face of our example. They can not mitigate it by calling it a selfdefense against men in arms, for it embraces the most shocking butcheries of defenseless families. Nor can it be pretended that they are not answerable for the atrocities perpetrated, since the savages are employed with a knowledge, and even with menaces, that their fury could not be controlled. Such is the spectacle which the deputed authorities of a nation boasting its religion and morality have not been restrained from presenting to an enlightened age. The misfortune at Detroit was not, however, without a consoling effect. It was followed by signal proofs that the national spirit rises according to the pressure on it. The loss of an important post and of the brave men surrendered with it inspired everywhere new ardor and determination. In the States and districts least remote it was no sooner known than every citizen was ready to fly with his arms at once to protect his brethren against the bloodthirsty savages let loose by the enemy on an extensive frontier, and to convert a partial calamity into a source of invigorated efforts. This patriotic zeal, which it was necessary rather to limit than excite, has embodied an ample force from the States of Kentucky and Ohio and from parts of Pennsylvania and Virginia. It is placed, with the addition of a few regulars, under the command of BrigadierGeneral Harrison, who possesses the entire confidence of his fellow soldiers, among whom are citizens, some of them volunteers in the ranks, not less distinguished by their political stations than by their personal merits. The greater portion of this force is proceeding in relieving an important frontier post, and in several incidental operations against hostile tribes of savages, rendered indispensable by the subserviency into which they had been seduced by the enemya seduction the more cruel as it could not fail to impose a necessity of precautionary severities against those who yielded to it. At a recent date an attack was made on a post of the enemy near Niagara by a detachment of the regular and other forces under the command of MajorGeneral Van Rensselaer, of the militia of the State of New York. The attack, it appears, was ordered in compliance with the ardor of the troops, who executed it with distinguished gallantry, and were for a time victorious; but not receiving the expected support, they were compelled to yield to reenforcements of British regulars and savages. Our loss has been considerable, and is deeply to be lamented. That of the enemy, less ascertained, will be the more felt, as it includes among the killed the commanding general, who was also the governor of the Province, and was sustained by veteran troops from unexperienced soldiers, who must daily improve in the duties of the field. Our expectation of gaining the command of the Lakes by the invasion of Canada from Detroit having been disappointed, measures were instantly taken to provide on them a naval force superior to that of the enemy. From the talents and activity of the officer charged with this object everything that can be done may be expected. Should the present season not admit of complete success, the progress made will insure for the next a naval ascendancy where it is essential to our permanent peace with and control over the savages. Among the incidents to the measures of the war I am constrained to advert to the refusal of the governors of Maine and Connecticut to furnish the required detachments of militia toward the defense of the maritime frontier. The refusal was founded on a novel and unfortunate exposition of the provisions of the Constitution relating to the militia. The correspondences which will be laid before you contain the requisite information on the subject. It is obvious that if the authority of the United States to call into service and command the militia for the public defense can be thus frustrated, even in a state of declared war and of course under apprehensions of invasion preceding war, they are not one nation for the purpose most of all requiring it, and that the public safety may have no other resource than in those large and permanent military establishments which are forbidden by the principles of our free government, and against the necessity of which the militia were meant to be a constitutional bulwark. On the coasts and on the ocean the war has been as successful as circumstances inseparable from its early stages could promise. Our public ships and private cruisers, by their activity, and, where there was occasion, by their intrepidity, have made the enemy sensible of the difference between a reciprocity of captures and the long confinement of them to their side. Our trade, with little exception, has safely reached our ports, having been much favored in it by the course pursued by a squadron of our frigates under the command of Commodore Rodgers, and in the instance in which skill and bravery were more particularly tried with those of the enemy the American flag had an auspicious triumph. The frigate Constitution, commanded by Captain Hull, after a close and short engagement completely disabled and captured a British frigate, gaining for that officer and all on board a praise which can not be too liberally bestowed, not merely for the victory actually achieved, but for that prompt and cool exertion of commanding talents which, giving to courage its highest character, and to the force applied its full effect, proved that more could have been done in a contest requiring more. Anxious to abridge the evils from which a state of war can not be exempt, I lost no time after it was declared in conveying to the British Government the terms on which its progress might be arrested, without awaiting the delays of a formal and final pacification, and our charge d'affaires at London was at the same time authorized to agree to an armistice founded upon them. These terms required that the orders in council should be repealed as they affected the United States, without a revival of blockades violating acknowledged rules, and that there should be an immediate discharge of American sea men from British ships, and a stop to impressment from American ships, with an understanding that an exclusion of the sea men of each nation from the ships of the other should be stipulated, and that the armistice should be improved into a definitive and comprehensive adjustment of depending controversies. Although a repeal of the orders susceptible of explanations meeting the views of this Government had taken place before this pacific advance was communicated to that of Great Britain, the advance was declined from an avowed repugnance to a suspension of the practice of impressments during the armistice, and without any intimation that the arrangement proposed with regard to sea men would be accepted. Whether the subsequent communications from this Government, affording an occasion for reconsidering the subject on the part of Great Britain, will be viewed in a more favorable light or received in a more accommodating spirit remains to be known. It would be unwise to relax our measures in any respect on a presumption of such a result. The documents from the Department of State which relate to this subject will give a view also of the propositions for an armistice which have been received here, one of them from the authorities at Halifax and in Canada, the other from the British Government itself through Admiral Warren, and of the grounds on which neither of them could be accepted. Our affairs with France retain the posture which they held at my last communications to you. Notwithstanding the authorized expectations of an early as well as favorable issue to the discussions on foot, these have been procrastinated to the latest date. The only intervening occurrence meriting attention is the promulgation of a French decree purporting to be a definitive repeal of the Berlin and Milan decrees. This proceeding, although made the ground of the repeal of the British orders in council, is rendered by the time and manner of it liable to many objections. The final communications from our special minister to Denmark afford further proofs of the good effects of his mission, and of the amicable disposition of the Danish Government. From Russia we have the satisfaction to receive assurances of continued friendship, and that it will not be affected by the rupture between the United States and Great Britain. Sweden also professes sentiments favorable to the subsisting harmony. With the Barbary Powers, excepting that of Algiers, our affairs remain on the ordinary footing. The consulgeneral residing with that Regency has suddenly and without cause been banished, together with all the American citizens found there. Whether this was the transitory effect of capricious despotism or the first act of predetermined hostility is not ascertained. Precautions were taken by the consul on the latter supposition. The Indian tribes not under foreign instigations remain at peace, and receive the civilizing attentions which have proved so beneficial to them. With a view to that vigorous prosecution of the war to which our national faculties are adequate, the attention of Congress will be particularly drawn to the insufficiency of existing provisions for filling up the military establishment. Such is the happy condition of our country, arising from the facility of subsistence and the high wages for every species of occupation, that notwithstanding the augmented inducements provided at the last session, a partial success only has attended the recruiting service. The deficiency has been necessarily supplied during the campaign by other than regular troops, with all the inconveniences and expense incident to them. The remedy lies in establishing more favorably for the private soldier the proportion between his recompense and the term of his enlistment, and it is a subject which can not too soon or too seriously be taken into consideration. The same insufficiency has been experienced in the provisions for volunteers made by an act of the last session. The recompense for the service required in this case is still less attractive than in the other, and although patriotism alone has sent into the field some valuable corps of that description, those alone who can afford the sacrifice can be reasonably expected to yield to that impulse. It will merit consideration also whether as auxiliary to the security of our frontiers corps may not be advantageously organized with a restriction of their services to particular districts convenient to them, and whether the local and occasional services of mariners and others in the sea port towns under a similar organization would not be a provident addition to the means of their defense. I recommend a provision for an increase of the general officers of the Army, the deficiency of which has been illustrated by the number and distance of separate commands which the course of the war and the advantage of the service have required. And I can not press too strongly on the earliest attention of the Legislature the importance of the reorganization of the staff establishment with a view to render more distinct and definite the relations and responsibilities of its several departments. That there is room for improvements which will materially promote both economy and success in what appertains to the Army and the war is equally inculcated by the examples of other countries and by the experience of our own. A revision of the militia laws for the purpose of rendering them more systematic and better adapting them to emergencies of the war is at this time particularly desirable. Of the additional ships authorized to be fitted for service, two will be shortly ready to sail, a third is under repair, and delay will be avoided in the repair of the residue. Of the appropriations for the purchase of materials for ship building, the greater part has been applied to that object and the purchase will be continued with the balance. The enterprising spirit which has characterized our naval force and its success, both in restraining insults and depredations on our coasts and in reprisals on the enemy, will not fail to recommend an enlargement of it. There being reason to believe that the act prohibiting the acceptance of British licenses is not a sufficient guard against the use of them, for purposes favorable to the interests and views of the enemy, further provisions on that subject are highly important. Nor is it less so that penal enactments should be provided for cases of corrupt and perfidious intercourse with the enemy, not amounting to treason nor yet embraced by any statutory provisions. A considerable number of American vessels which were in England when the revocation of the orders in council took place were laden with British manufactures under an erroneous impression that the nonimportation act would immediately cease to operate, and have arrived in the United States. It did not appear proper to exercise on unforeseen cases of such magnitude the powers vested in the Treasury Department to mitigate forfeitures without previously affording to Congress an opportunity of making on the subject such provision as they may think proper. In their decision they will doubtless equally consult what is due to equitable considerations and to the public interest. The receipts into the Treasury during the year ending on the 30th of September last have exceeded 16.5 millions, which have been sufficient to defray all the demands on the Treasury to that day, including a necessary reimbursement of near 3 millions of the principal of the public debt. In these receipts is included a sum of near 5.85 millions, received on account of the loans authorized by the acts of the last session; the whole sum actually obtained on loan amounts to 11 millions, the residue of which, being receivable subsequent to the 30th of September last, will, together with the current revenue, enable us to defray all the expenses of this year. The duties on the late unexpected importations of British manufactures will render the revenue of the ensuing year more productive than could have been anticipated. The situation of our country, fellow citizens, is not without its difficulties, though it abounds in animating considerations, of which the view here presented of our pecuniary resources is an example. With more than one nation we have serious and unsettled controversies, and with one, powerful in the means and habits of war, we are at war. The spirit and strength of the nation are nevertheless equal to the support of all its rights, and to carry it through all its trials. They can be met in that confidence. Above all, we have the inestimable consolation of knowing that the war in which we are actually engaged is a war neither of ambition nor of vain glory; that it is waged not in violation of the rights of others, but in the maintenance of our own; that it was preceded by a patience without example under wrongs accumulating without end, and that it was finally not declared until every hope of averting it was extinguished by the transfer of the British scepter into new hands clinging to former councils, and until declarations were reiterated to the last hour, through the British envoy here, that the hostile edicts against our commercial rights and our maritime independence would not be revoked; nay, that they could not be revoked without violating the obligations of Great Britain to other powers, as well as to her own interests. To have shrunk under such circumstances from manly resistance would have been a degradation blasting our best and proudest hopes; it would have struck us from the high rank where the virtuous struggles of our fathers had placed us, and have betrayed the magnificent legacy which we hold in trust for future generations. It would have acknowledged that on the element which forms threefourths of the globe we inhabit, and where all independent nations have equal and common rights, the American people were not an independent people, but colonists and vassals. It was at this moment and with such an alternative that war was chosen. The nation felt the necessity of it, and called for it. The appeal was accordingly made, in a just cause, to the Just and Allpowerful Being who holds in His hand the chain of events and the destiny of nations. It remains only that, faithful to ourselves, entangled in no connections with the views of other powers, and ever ready to accept peace from the hand of justice, we prosecute the war with united counsels and with the ample faculties of the nation until peace be so obtained and as the only means under the Divine blessing of speedily obtaining it.  State of the Union Address James Madison December 7, 1813 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In meeting you at the present interesting conjuncture it would have been highly satisfactory if I could have communicated a favorable result to the mission charged with negotiations for restoring peace. It was a just expectation, from the respect due to the distinguished Sovereign who had invited them by his offer of mediation, from the readiness with which the invitation was accepted on the part of the United States, and from the pledge to be found in an act of their Legislature for the liberality which their plenipotentiaries would carry into the negotiations, that no time would be lost by the British Government in embracing the experiment for hastening a stop to the effusion of blood. A prompt and cordial acceptance of the mediation on that side was the less to be doubted, as it was of a nature not to submit rights or pretensions on either side to the decision of an umpire, but to afford merely an opportunity, honorable and desirable to both, for discussing and, if possible, adjusting them for the interest of both. The British cabinet, either mistaking our desire of peace for a dread of British power or misled by other fallacious calculations, has disappointed this reasonable anticipation. No communications from our envoys having reached us, no information on the subject has been received from that source; but it is known that the mediation was declined in the first instance, and there is no evidence, notwithstanding the lapse of time, that a change of disposition in the British councils has taken place or is to be expected. Under such circumstances a nation proud of its rights and conscious of its strength has no choice but an exertion of the one in support of the other. To this determination the best encouragement is derived from the success with which it has pleased the Almighty to bless our arms both on the land and on the water. Whilst proofs have been continued of the enterprise and skill of our cruisers, public and private, on the ocean, and a trophy gained in the capture of a British by an American vessel of war, after an action giving celebrity to the name of the victorious commander, the great inland waters on which the enemy were also to be encountered have presented achievements of our naval arms as brilliant in their character as they have been important in their consequences. On Lake Erie, the squadron under command of Captain Perry having met the British squadron of superior force, a sanguinary conflict ended in the capture of the whole. The conduct of that officer, adroit as it was daring, and which was so well seconded by his comrades, justly entitles them to the admiration and gratitude of their country, and will fill an early page in its naval annals with a victory never surpassed in luster, however much it may have been in magnitude. On Lake Ontario the caution of the British commander, favored by contingencies, frustrated the efforts of the American commander to bring on a decisive action. Captain Chauncey was able, however, to establish an ascendancy on that important theater, and to prove by the manner in which he effected everything possible that opportunities only were wanted for a more shining display of his own talents and the gallantry of those under his command. The success on Lake Erie having opened a passage to the territory of the enemy, the officer commanding the Northwestern army transferred the war thither, and rapidly pursuing the hostile troops, fleeing with their savage associates, forced a general action, which quickly terminated in the capture of the British and dispersion of the savage force. This result is signally honorable to MajorGeneral Harrison, by whose military talents it was prepared; to Colonel Johnson and his mounted volunteers, whose impetuous onset gave a decisive blow to the ranks of the enemy, and to the spirit of the volunteer militia, equally brave and patriotic, who bore an interesting part in the scene; more especially to the chief magistrate of Kentucky, at the head of them, whose heroism signalized in the war which established the independence of his country, sought at an advanced age a share in hardships and battles for maintaining its rights and its safely. The effect of these successes has been to rescue the inhabitants of Michigan from their oppressions, aggravated by gross infractions of the capitulation which subjected them to a foreign power; to alienate the savages of numerous tribes from the enemy, by whom they were disappointed and abandoned, and to relieve an extensive region of country from a merciless warfare which desolated its frontiers and imposed on its citizens the most harassing services. In consequences of our naval superiority on Lake Ontario and the opportunity afforded by it for concentrating our forces by water, operations which had been provisionally planned were set on foot against the possessions of the enemy on the St. Lawrence. Such, however, was the delay produced in the first instance by adverse weather of unusual violence and continuance and such the circumstances attending the final movements of the army, that the prospect, at one time so favorable, was not realized. The cruelty of the enemy in enlisting the savages into a war with a nation desirous of mutual emulation in mitigating its calamities has not been confined to any one quarter. Wherever they could be turned against us no exertions to effect it have been spared. On our southwestern border the Creek tribes, who, yielding to our persevering endeavors, were gradually acquiring more civilized habits, became the unfortunate victims of seduction. A war in that quarter has been the consequence, infuriated by a bloody fanaticism recently propagated among them. It was necessary to crush such a war before it could spread among the contiguous tribes and before it could favor enterprises of the enemy into that vicinity. With this view a force was called into the service of the United States from the States of Georgia and Tennessee, which, with the nearest regular troops and other corps from the Massachussets Territory, might not only chastise the savages into present peace but make a lasting impression on their fears. The progress of the expedition, as far as is yet known, corresponds with the martial zeal with which it was espoused, and the best hopes of a satisfactory issue are authorized by the complete success with which a wellplanned enterprise was executed against a body of hostile savages by a detachment of the volunteer militia of Tennessee, under the gallant command of General Coffee, and by a still more important victory over a larger body of them, gained under the immediate command of MajorGeneral Jackson, an officer equally distinguished for his patriotism and his military talents. The systematic perseverance of the enemy in courting the aid of the savages in all quarters had the natural effect of kindling their ordinary propensity to war into a passion, which, even among those best disposed toward the United States, was ready, if not employed on our side, to be turned against us. A departure from our protracted forbearance to accept the services tendered by them has thus been forced upon us. But in yielding to it the retaliation has been mitigated as much as possible, both in its extent and in its character, stopping far short of the example of the enemy, who owe the advantages they have occasionally gained in battle chiefly to the number of their savage associates, and who have not controlled them either from their usual practice of indiscriminate massacre on defenseless inhabitants or from scenes of carnage without a parallel on prisoners to the British arms, guarded by all the laws of humanity and of honorable war. For these enormities the enemy are equally responsible, whether with the power to prevent them they want the will or with the knowledge of a want of power they still avail themselves of such instruments. In other respects the enemy are pursuing a course which threatens consequences most afflicting to humanity. A standing law of Great Britain naturalizes, as is well known, all aliens complying with conditions limited to a shorter period than those required by the United States, and naturalized subjects are in war employed by her Government in common with native subjects. In a contiguous British Province regulations promulgated since the commencement of the war compel citizens of the United States being there under certain circumstances to bear arms, whilst of the native emigrants from the United States, who compose much of the population of the Province, a number have actually borne arms against the United States within their limits, some of whom, after having done so, have become prisoners of war, and are now in our possession. The British commander in that Province, nevertheless, with the sanction, as appears, of his Government, thought proper to select from American prisoners of war and send to Great Britain for trial as criminals a number of individuals who had emigrated from the British dominions long prior to the state of war between the two nations, who had incorporated themselves into our political society in the modes recognized by the law and the practice of Great Britain, and who were made prisoners of war under the banners of their adopted country, fighting for its rights and its safety. The protection due to these citizens requiring an effectual interposition in their behalf, a like number of British prisoners of war were put into confinement, with a notification that they would experience whatever violence might be committed on the American prisoners of war sent to Great Britain. It was hoped that this necessary consequence of the step unadvisedly taken on the part of Great Britain would have led her Government to reflect on the inconsistencies of its conduct, and that a sympathy with the British, if not with the American, sufferers would have arrested the cruel career opened by its example. This was unhappily not the case. In violation both of consistency and of humanity, American officers and noncommissioned officers in double the number of the British soldiers confined here were ordered into close confinement, with formal notice that in the event of a retaliation for the death which might be inflicted on the prisoners of war sent to Great Britain for trial the officers so confined would be put to death also. It was notified at the same time that the commanders of the British fleets and armies on our coasts are instructed in the same event to proceed with a destructive severity against our towns and their inhabitants. That no doubt might be left with the enemy of our adherence to the retaliatory resort imposed on us, a correspondent number of British officers, prisoners of war in our hands, were immediately put into close confinement to abide the fate of those confined by the enemy, and the British Government was apprised of the determination of this Government to retaliate any other proceedings against us contrary to the legitimate modes of warfare. It is fortunate for the United States that they have it in their power to meet the enemy in this deplorable contest as it is honorable to them that they do not join in it but under the most imperious obligations, and with the humane purpose of effectuating a return to the established usages of war. The views of the French Government on the subjects which have been so long committed to negotiation have received no elucidation since the close of your late session. The minister plenipotentiary of the United States at Paris had not been enabled by proper opportunities to press the objects of his mission as prescribed by his instructions. The militia being always to be regarded as the great bulwark of defense and security for free states, and the Constitution having wisely committed to the national authority a use of that force as the best provision against an unsafe military establishment, as well as a resource peculiarly adapted to a country having the extent and the exposure of the United States, I recommend to Congress a revision of the militia laws for the purpose of securing more effectually the services of all detachments called into the employment and placed under the Government of the United States. It will deserve the consideration of Congress also whether among other improvements in the militia laws justice does not require a regulation, under due precautions, for defraying the expense incident to the first assembling as well as the subsequent movements of detachments called into the national service. To give to our vessels of war, public and private, the requisite advantage in their cruises, it is of much importance that they should have, both for themselves and their prizes, the use of the ports and markets of friendly powers. With this view, I recommend to Congress the expediency of such legal provisions as may supply the defects or remove the doubts of the Executive authority, to allow to the cruisers of other powers at war with enemies of the United States such use of the American ports as may correspond with the privileges allowed by such powers to American cruisers. During the year ending on the 30th of September last the receipts into the Treasury have exceeded 37.5 millions, of which near 24 millions were the produce of loans. After meeting all demands for the public service there remained in the Treasury on that day near 7 millions. Under the authority contained in the act of the 2nd of August last for borrowing 7.5 millions, that sum has been obtained on terms more favorable to the United States than those of the preceding loans made during the present year. Further sums to a considerable amount will be necessary to be obtained in the same way during the ensuing year, and from the increased capital of the country, from the fidelity with which the public engagements have been kept and the public credit maintained, it may be expected on good grounds that the necessary pecuniary supplies will not be wanting. The expenses of the current year, from the multiplied operations falling within it, have necessarily been extensive; but on a just estimate of the campaign in which the mass of them has been incurred the cost will not be found disproportionate to the advantages which have been gained. The campaign has, indeed, in its latter stages in one quarter been less favorable than was expected, but in addition to the importance of our naval success the progress of the campaign has been filled with incidents highly honorable to the American arms. The attacks of the enemy on Craney Island, on Fort Meigs, on Sacketts Harbor, and on Sandusky have been vigorously and successfully repulsed; nor have they in any case succeeded on either frontier excepting when directed against the peaceable dwellings of individuals or villages unprepared or undefended. On the other hand, the movements of the American Army have been followed by the reduction of York, and of Forts George, Erie, and Malden; by the recovery of Detroit and the extinction of the Indian war in the West, and by the occupancy or command of a large portion of Upper Canada. Battles have also been fought on the borders of the St. Lawrence, which, though not accomplishing their entire objects, reflect honor on the discipline and prowess of our soldiery, the best auguries of eventual victory. In the same scale are to be placed the late successes in the South over one of the most powerful, which had become one of the most hostile also, of the Indian tribes. It would be improper to close this communication without expressing a thankfulness in which all ought to unite for the abundance; for the preservation of our internal tranquillity, and the stability of our free institutions, and, above all, for the light of divine truth and the protection of every man's conscience in the enjoyment of it. And although among our blessings we can not number an exemption from the evils of war, yet these will never be regarded as the greatest of evils by the friends of liberty and of the rights of nations. Our country has before preferred them to the degraded condition which was the alternative when the sword was drawn in the cause which gave birth to our national independence, and none who contemplate the magnitude and feel the value of that glorious event will shrink from a struggle to maintain the high and happy ground on which it placed the American people. With all good citizens the justice and necessity of resisting wrongs and usurpations no longer to be borne will sufficiently outweigh the privations and sacrifices inseparable from a state of war. But it is a reflection, moreover, peculiarly consoling, that, whilst wars are generally aggravated by their baneful effects on the internal improvements and permanent prosperity of the nations engaged in them, such is the favored situation of the United States that the calamities of the contest into which they have been compelled to enter are mitigated by improvements and advantages of which the contest itself is the source. If the war has increased the interruptions of our commerce, it has at the same time cherished and multiplied our manufactures so as to make us independent of all other countries for the more essential branches for which we ought to be dependent on none, and is even rapidly giving them an extent which will create additional staples in our future intercourse with foreign markets. If much treasure has been expended, no inconsiderable portion of it has been applied to objects durable in their value and necessary to our permanent safety. If the war has exposed us to increased spoliations on the ocean and to predatory incursions on the land, it has developed the national means of retaliating the former and of providing protection against the latter, demonstrating to all that every blow aimed at our maritime independence is an impulse accelerating the growth of our maritime power. By diffusing through the mass of the nation the elements of military discipline and instruction; by augmenting and distributing warlike preparations applicable to future use; by evincing the zeal and valor with which they will be employed and the cheerfulness with which every necessary burden will be borne, a greater respect for our rights and a longer duration of our future peace are promised than could be expected without these proofs of the national character and resources. The war has proved moreover that our free Government, like other free governments, though slow in its early movements, acquires in its progress a force proportioned to its freedom, and that the union of these States, the guardian of the freedom and safety of all and of each, is strengthened by every occasion that puts it to the test. In fine, the war, with all its vicissitudes, is illustrating the capacity and the destiny of the United States to be a great, a flourishing, and a powerful nation, worthy of the friendship which it is disposed to cultivate with all others, and authorized by its own example to require from all an observance of the laws of justice and reciprocity. Beyond these their claims have never extended, and in contending for these we behold a subject for our congratulations in the daily testimonies of increasing harmony throughout the nation, and may humbly repose our trust in the smiles of Heaven on so righteous a cause.  State of the Union Address James Madison September 20, 1814 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: Notwithstanding the early day which had been fixed for your session of the present year, I was induced to call you together still sooner, as well that any inadequacy in the existing provisions for the wants of the Treasury might be supplied as that no delay might happen in providing for the result of the negotiations on foot with Great Britain, whether it should require arrangements adapted to a return of peace or further and more effective provisions for prosecuting the war. That result is not yet known. If, on the one hand, the repeal of the orders in council and the general pacification in Europe, which withdrew the occasion on which impressments from American vessels were practiced, suggest expectations that peace and amity may be reestablished, we are compelled, on the other hand, by the refusal of the British Government to accept the offered mediation of the Emperor of Russia, by the delays in giving effect to its own proposal of a direct negotiation, and, above all, by the principles and manner in which the war is now avowedly carried on to infer that a spirit of hostility is indulged more violent than ever against the rights and prosperity of this country. This increased violence is best explained by the two important circumstances that the great contest in Europe for an equilibrium guaranteeing all its States against the ambition of any has been closed without any check on the overbearing power of Great Britain on the ocean, and it has left in her hands disposable armaments, with which, forgetting the difficulties of a remote war with a free people, and yielding to the intoxication of success, with the example of a great victim to it before her eyes, she cherishes hopes of still further aggrandizing a power already formidable in its abuses to the tranquillity of the civilized and commercial world. But whatever may have inspired the enemy with these more violent purposes, the public councils of a nation more able to maintain than it was to require its independence, and with a devotion to it rendered more ardently by the experience of its blessings, can never deliberate but on the means most effectual for defeating the extravagant views or unwarrantable passions with which alone the war can now be pursued against us. In the events of the present campaign the enemy, with all his augmented means and wanton use of them, has little ground for exultation, unless he can feel it in the success of his recent enterprises against this metropolis and the neighboring town of Alexandria, from both of which his retreats were as precipitate as his attempts were bold and fortunate. In his other incursions on our Atlantic frontier his progress, often checked and chastised by the martial spirit of the neighboring citizens, has had more effect in distressing individuals and in dishonoring his arms than in promoting any object of legitimate warfare; and in the two instances mentioned, however deeply to be regretted on our part, he will find in his transient success, which interrupted for a moment only the ordinary business at the seat of Government, no compensation for the loss of character with the world by his violations of private property and by his destruction of public edifices protected as monuments of the arts by the laws of civilized warfare. On our side we can appeal to a series of achievements which have given new luster to the American arms. Besides the brilliant incidents in the minor operations of the campaign, the splendid victories gained on the Canadian side of the Niagara by the American forces under MajorGeneral Brown and Brigadiers Scott and Gaines have gained for these heroes and their emulating companions the most unfading laurels, and, having triumphantly tested the progressive discipline of the American soldiery, have taught the enemy that the longer he protracts his hostile efforts the more certain and decisive will be his final discomfiture. On our southern border victory has continued also to follow the American standard. The bold and skillful operations of MajorGeneral Jackson, conducting troops drawn from the militia of the States least distant, particularly Tennessee, have subdued the principal tribes of hostile savages, and, by establishing a peace with them, preceded by recent and exemplary chastisement, has best guarded against the mischief of their cooperations with the British enterprises which may be planned against that quarter of our country. Important tribes of Indians on our northwestern frontier have also acceded to stipulations which bind them to the interests of the United States and to consider our enemy as theirs also. In the recent attempt of the enemy on the city of Baltimore, defended by militia and volunteers, aided by a small body of regulars and sea men, he was received with a spirit which produced a rapid retreat to his ships, whilst concurrent attack by a large fleet was successfully resisted by the steady and welldirected fire of the fort and batteries opposed to it. In another recent attack by a powerful force on our troops at Plattsburg, of which regulars made a part only, the enemy, after a perseverance for many hours, was finally compelled to seek safety in a hasty retreat, with our gallant bands pressing upon them. On the Lakes, so much contested throughout the war, the great exertions for the command made on our part have been well repaid. On Lake Ontario our squadron is now and has been for some time in a condition to confine that of the enemy to his own port, and to favor the operations of our land forces on that frontier. A part of the squadron on Lake Erie has been extended into Lake Huron, and has produced the advantage of displaying our command on that lake also. One object of the expedition was the reduction of Mackinaw, which followed with the loss of a few brave men, among whom was an officer justly distinguished for his gallant exploits. The expedition, ably conducted by both the land and the naval commanders, was otherwise highly valuable in its effects. On Lake Champlain, where our superiority had for some time been undisputed, the British squadron lately came into action with the American, commanded by Captain Macdonough. It issued in the capture of the whole of the enemy's ships. The best praise for this officer and his intrepid comrades is in the likeness of his triumph to the illustrious victory which immortalized another officer and established at a critical moment our command of another lake. On the ocean the pride of our naval arms had been amply supported. A second frigate has indeed fallen into the hands of the enemy, but the loss is hidden in the blaze of heroism with which she was defended. Captain Porter, who commanded her, and whose previous career had been distinguished by daring enterprise and by fertility of genius, maintained a sanguinary contest against two ships, one of them superior to his own, and under other severe disadvantages, 'til humanity tore down the colors which valor had nailed to the mast. This officer and his brave comrades have added much to the rising glory of the American flag, and have merited all the effusions of gratitude which their country is ever ready to bestow on the champions of its rights and of its safety. Two smaller vessels of war have also become prizes to the enemy, but by a superiority of force which sufficiently vindicates the reputation of their commanders, whilst two others, one commanded by Captain Warrington, the other by Captain Blakely, have captured British ships of the same class with a gallantry and good conduct which entitle them and their companions to a just share in the praise of their country. In spite of the naval force of the enemy accumulated on our coasts, our private cruisers also have not ceased to annoy his commerce and to bring their rich prizes into our ports, contributing thus, with other proofs, to demonstrate the incompetency and illegality of a blockade the proclamation of which is made the pretext for vexing and discouraging the commerce of neutral powers with the United States. To meet the extended and diversified warfare adopted by the enemy, great bodies of militia have been taken into service for the public defense, and great expenses incurred. That the defense everywhere may be both more convenient and more economical, Congress will see the necessity of immediate measures for filling the ranks of the Regular Army and of enlarging the provision for special corps, mounted and unmounted, to be engaged for longer periods of service than are due from the militia. I earnestly renew, at the same time, a recommendation of such changes in the system of the militia as, by classing and disciplining for the most prompt and active service the portions most capable of it, will give to that great resource for the public safety all the requisite energy and efficiency. The moneys received into the Treasury during the nine months ending on the 30th day of June last amounted to 32 millions, of which near 11 millions were the proceeds of the public revenue and the remainder derived from loans. The disbursements for public expenditures during the same period exceeded 34 millions, and left in the Treasury on the first day of July near 5 millions. The demands during the remainder of the present year already authorized by Congress and the expenses incident to an extension of the operations of the war will render it necessary that large sums should be provided to meet them. From this view of the national affairs Congress will be urged to take up without delay as well the subject of pecuniary supplies as that of military force, and on a scale commensurate with the extent and the character which the war has assumed. It is not to be disguised that the situation of our country calls for its greatest efforts. Our enemy is powerful in men and in money, on the land and on the water. Availing himself of fortuitous advantages, he is aiming with his undivided force a deadly blow at our growing prosperity, perhaps at our national existence. He has avowed his purpose of trampling on the usages of civilized warfare, and given earnests of it in the plunder and wanton destruction of private property. In his pride of maritime dominion and in his thirst of commercial monopoly he strikes with peculiar animosity at the progress of our navigation and of our manufactures. His barbarous policy has not even spared those monuments of the arts and models of taste with which our country had enriched and embellished its infant metropolis. From such an adversary hostility in its greatest force and in its worst forms may be looked for. The American people will face it with the undaunted spirit which in their revolutionary struggle defeated his unrighteous projects. His threats and his barbarities, instead of dismay, will kindle in every bosom an indignation not to be extinguished but in the disaster and expulsion of such cruel invaders. In providing the means necessary the National Legislature will not distrust the heroic and enlightened patriotism of its constituents. They will cheerfully and proudly bear every burden of every kind which the safety and honor of the nation demand. We have seen them everywhere paying their taxes, direct and indirect, with the greatest promptness and alacrity. We see them rushing with enthusiasm to the scenes where danger and duty call. In offering their blood they give the surest pledge that no other tribute will be withheld. Having forborne to declare war until to other aggressions had been added the capture of near one thousand American vessels and the impressment of thousands of American sea faring citizens, and until a final declaration had been made by the Government of Great Britain that her hostile orders against our commerce would not be revoked but on conditions as impossible as unjust, whilst it was known that these orders would not otherwise cease but with a war which had lasted nearly twenty years, and which, according to appearances at that time, might last as many more; having manifested on every occasion and in every proper mode a sincere desire to arrest the effusion of blood and meet our enemy on the ground of justice and reconciliation, our beloved country, in still opposing to his persevering hostility all its energies, with an undiminished disposition toward peace and friendship on honorable terms, must carry with it the good wishes of the impartial world and the best hopes of support from an omnipotent and kind Providence.  State of the Union Address James Madison December 5, 1815 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: I have the satisfaction on our present meeting of being able to communicate the successful termination of the war which had been commenced against the United States by the Regency of Algiers. The squadron in advance on that service, under Commodore Decatur, lost not a moment after its arrival in the Mediterranean in seeking the naval force of the enemy then cruising in that sea, and succeeded in capturing two of his ships, one of them the principal ship, commanded by the Algerine admiral. The high character of the American commander was brilliantly sustained on the occasion which brought his own ship into close action with that of his adversary, as was the accustomed gallantry of all the officers and men actually engaged. Having prepared the way by this demonstration of American skill and prowess, he hastened to the port of Algiers, where peace was promptly yielded to his victorious force. In the terms stipulated the rights and honor of the United States were particularly consulted by a perpetual relinquishment on the part of the Dey of all pretensions to tribute from them. The impressions which have thus been made, strengthened as they will have been by subsequent transactions with the Regencies of Tunis and of Tripoli by the appearance of the larger force which followed under Commodore Bainbridge, the chief in command of the expedition, and by the judicious precautionary arrangements left by him in that quarter, afford a reasonable prospect of future security for the valuable portion of our commerce which passes within reach of the Barbary cruisers. It is another source of satisfaction that the treaty of peace with Great Britain has been succeeded by a convention on the subject of commerce concluded by the plenipotentiaries of the two countries. In this result a disposition is manifested on the part of that nation corresponding with the disposition of the United States, which it may be hoped will be improved into liberal arrangements on other subjects on which the parties have mutual interests, or which might endanger their future harmony. Congress will decide on the expediency of promoting such a sequel by giving effect to the measure of confining the American navigation to American sea mena measure which, at the same time that it might have that conciliatory tendency, would have the further advantage of increasing the independence of our navigation and the resources for our maritime defense. In conformity with the articles in the treaty of Ghent relating to the Indians, as well as with a view to the tranquillity of our western and northwestern frontiers, measures were taken to establish an immediate peace with the several tribes who had been engaged in hostilities against the United States. Such of them as were invited to Detroit acceded readily to a renewal of the former treaties of friendship. Of the other tribes who were invited to a station on the Mississippi the greater number have also accepted the peace offered to them. The residue, consisting of the more distant tribes or parts of tribes, remain to be brought over by further explanations, or by such other means as may be adapted to the dispositions they may finally disclose. The Indian tribes within and bordering on the southern frontier, whom a cruel war on their part had compelled us to chastise into peace, have latterly shown a restlessness which has called for preparatory measures for repressing it, and for protecting the commissioners engaged in carrying the terms of the peace into execution. The execution of the act for fixing the military peace establishment has been attended with difficulties which even now can only be overcome by legislative aid. The selection of officers, the payment and discharge of the troops enlisted for the war, the payment of the retained troops and their reunion from detached and distant stations, the collection and security of the public property in the Quartermaster, Commissary, and Ordnance departments, and the constant medical assistance required in hospitals and garrisons rendered a complete execution of the act impracticable on the 1st of May, the period more immediately contemplated. As soon, however, as circumstances would permit, and as far as it has been practicable consistently with the public interests, the reduction of the Army has been accomplished; but the appropriations for its pay and for other branches of the military service having proved inadequate, the earliest attention to that subject will be necessary; and the expediency of continuing upon the peace establishment the staff officers who have hitherto been provisionally retained is also recommended to the consideration of Congress. In the performance of the Executive duty upon this occasion there has not been wanting a just sensibility to the merits of the American Army during the late war; but the obvious policy and design in fixing an efficient military peace establishment did not afford an opportunity to distinguish the aged and infirm on account of their past services nor the wounded and disabled on account of their present sufferings. The extent of the reduction, indeed, unavoidably involved the exclusion of many meritorious officers of every rank from the service of their country; and so equal as well as so numerous were the claims to attention that a decision by the standard of comparative merit could seldom be attained. Judged, however, in candor by a general standard of positive merit, the Army Register will, it is believed, do honor to the establishment, while the case of those officers whose names are not included in it devolves with the strongest interest upon the legislative authority for such provisions as shall be deemed the best calculated to give support and solace to the veteran and the invalid, to display the beneficence as well as the justice of the Government, and to inspire a martial zeal for the public service upon every future emergency. Although the embarrassments arising from the want of an uniform national currency have not been diminished since the adjournment of Congress, great satisfaction has been derived in contemplating the revival of the public credit and the efficiency of the public resources. The receipts into the Treasury from the various branches of revenue during the nine months ending on the 30th of September last have been estimated at 12.5 millions; the issues of Treasury notes of every denomination during the same period amounted to the sum of 14 millions, and there was also obtained upon loan during the same period a sum of 9 millions, of which the sum of 6 millions was subscribed in cash and the sum of 3 millions in Treasury notes. With these means, added to the sum of 1.5 millions, being the balance of money in the Treasury on the 1st day of January, there has been paid between the 1st of January and the 1st of October on account of the appropriations of the preceding and of the present year (exclusively of the amount of the Treasury notes subscribed to the loan and of the amount redeemed in the payment of duties and taxes) the aggregate sum of 33.5 millions, leaving a balance then in the Treasury estimated at the sum of 3 millions. Independent, however of the arrearages due for military services and supplies, it is presumed that a further sum of 5 millions, including the interest on the public debt payable on the 1st of January next, will be demanded at the Treasury to complete the expenditures of the present year, and for which the existing ways and means will sufficiently provide. The national debt, as it was ascertained on the 1st of October last, amounted in the whole to the sum of 120 millions, consisting of the unredeemed balance of the debt contracted before the late war (39 millions), the amount of the funded debt contracted in consequence of the war (64 millions), and the amount of the unfunded and floating debt, including the various issues of Treasury notes, 17 millions, which is in gradual course of payment. There will probably be some addition to the public debt upon the liquidation of various claims which are depending, and a conciliatory disposition on the part of Congress may lead honorably and advantageously to an equitable arrangement of the militia expenses incurred by the several States without the previous sanction or authority of the Government of the United States; but when it is considered that the new as well as the old portion of the debt has been contracted in the assertion of the national rights and independence, and when it is recollected that the public expenditures, not being exclusively bestowed upon subjects of a transient nature, will long be visible in the number and equipments of the American Navy, in the military works for the defense of our harbors and our frontiers, and in the supplies of our arsenals and magazines the amount will bear a gratifying comparison with the objects which have been attained, as well as with the resources of the country. The arrangements of the finances with a view to the receipts and expenditures of a permanent peace establishment will necessarily enter into the deliberations of Congress during the present session. It is true that the improved condition of the public revenue will not only afford the means of maintaining the faith of the Government with its creditors inviolate, and of prosecuting successfully the measures of the most liberal policy, but will also justify an immediate alleviation of the burdens imposed by the necessities of the war. It is, however, essential to every modification of the finances that the benefits of an uniform national currency should be restored to the community. The absence of the precious metals will, it is believed, be a temporary evil, but until they can again be rendered the general medium of exchange it devolves on the wisdom of Congress to provide a substitute which shall equally engage the confidence and accommodate the wants of the citizens throughout the Union. If the operation of the State banks can not produce this result, the probable operation of a national bank will merit consideration; and if neither of these expedients be deemed effectual it may become necessary to ascertain the terms upon which the notes of the Government (no longer required as an instrument of credit) shall be issued upon motives of general policy as a common medium of circulation. Notwithstanding the security for future repose which the United States ought to find in their love of peace and their constant respect for the rights of other nations, the character of the times particularly inculcates the lesson that, whether to prevent or repel danger, we ought not to be unprepared for it. This consideration will sufficiently recommend to Congress a liberal provision for the immediate extension and gradual completion of the works of defense, both fixed and floating, on our maritime frontier, and an adequate provision for guarding our inland frontier against dangers to which certain portions of it may continue to be exposed. As an improvement in our military establishment, it will deserve the consideration of Congress whether a corps of invalids might not be so organized and employed as at once to aid in the support of meritorious individuals excluded by age or infirmities from the existing establishment, and to procure to the public the benefit of their stationary services and of their exemplary discipline. I recommend also an enlargement of the Military Academy already established, and the establishment of others in other sections of the Union; and I can not press too much on the attention of Congress such a classification and organization of the militia as will most effectually render it the safeguard of a free state. If experience has shewn in the recent splendid achievements of militia the value of this resource for the public defense, it has shewn also the importance of that skill in the use of arms and that familiarity with the essential rules of discipline which can not be expected from the regulations now in force. With this subject is intimately connected the necessity of accommodating the laws in every respect to the great object of enabling the political authority of the Union to employ promptly and effectually the physical power of the Union in the cases designated by the Constitution. The signal services which have been rendered by our Navy and the capacities it has developed for successful cooperation in the national defense will give to that portion of the public force its full value in the eyes of Congress, at an epoch which calls for the constant vigilance of all governments. To preserve the ships now in a sound state, to complete those already contemplated, to provide amply the imperishable materials for prompt augmentations, and to improve the existing arrangements into more advantageous establishments for the construction, the repairs, and the security of vessels of war is dictated by the soundest policy. In adjusting the duties on imports to the object of revenue the influence of the tariff on manufactures will necessarily present itself for consideration. However wise the theory may be which leaves to the sagacity and interest of individuals the application of their industry and resources, there are in this as in other cases exceptions to the general rule. Besides the condition which the theory itself implies of reciprocal adoption by other nations, experience teaches that so many circumstances must concur in introducing and maturing manufacturing establishments, especially of the more complicated kinds, that a country may remain long without them, although sufficiently advanced and in some respects even peculiarly fitted for carrying them on with success. Under circumstances giving a powerful impulse to manufacturing industry it has made among us a progress and exhibited an efficiency which justify the belief that with a protection not more than is due to the enterprising citizens whose interests are now at stake it will become at an early day not only safe against occasional competitions from abroad, but a source of domestic wealth and even of external commerce. In selecting the branches more especially entitled to the public patronage a preference is obviously claimed by such as will relieve the United States from a dependence on foreign supplies, ever subject to casual failures, for articles necessary for the public defense or connected with the primary wants of individuals. It will be an additional recommendation of particular manufactures where the materials for them are extensively drawn from our agriculture, and consequently impart and insure to that great fund of national prosperity and independence an encouragement which can not fail to be rewarded. Among the means of advancing the public interest the occasion is a proper one for recalling the attention of Congress to the great importance of establishing throughout our country the roads and canals which can best be executed under the national authority. No objects within the circle of political economy so richly repay the expense bestowed on them; there are none the utility of which is more universally ascertained and acknowledged; none that do more honor to the governments whose wise and enlarged patriotism duly appreciates them. Nor is there any country which presents a field where nature invites more the art of man to complete her own work for his accommodation and benefit. These considerations are strengthened, moreover, by the political effect of these facilities for intercommunication in bringing and binding more closely together the various parts of our extended confederacy. Whilst the States individually, with a laudable enterprise and emulation, avail themselves of their local advantages by new roads, by navigable canals, and by improving the streams susceptible of navigation, the General Government is the more urged to similar undertakings, requiring a national jurisdiction and national means, by the prospect of thus systematically completing so inestimable a work; and it is a happy reflection that any defect of constitutional authority which may be encountered can be supplied in a mode which the Constitution itself has providently pointed out. The present is a favorable season also for bringing again into view the establishment of a national seminary of learning within the District of Columbia, and with means drawn from the property therein, subject to the authority of the General Government. Such an institution claims the patronage of Congress as a monument of their solicitude for the advancement of knowledge, without which the blessings of liberty can not be fully enjoyed or long preserved; as a model instructive in the formation of other seminaries; as a nursery of enlightened preceptors, and as a central resort of youth and genius from every part of their country, diffusing on their return examples of those national feelings, those liberal sentiments, and those congenial manners which contribute cement to our Union and strength to the great political fabric of which that is the foundation. In closing this communication I ought not to repress a sensibility, in which you will unite, to the happy lot of our country and to the goodness of a superintending Providence, to which we are indebted for it. Whilst other portions of mankind are laboring under the distresses of war or struggling with adversity in other forms, the United States are in the tranquil enjoyment of prosperous and honorable peace. In reviewing the scenes through which it has been attained we can rejoice in the proofs given that our political institutions, founded in human rights and framed for their preservation, are equal to the severest trials of war, as well adapted to the ordinary periods of repose. As fruits of this experience and of the reputation acquired by the American arms on the land and on the water, the nation finds itself possessed of a growing respect abroad and of a just confidence in itself, which are among the best pledges for its peaceful career. Under other aspects of our country the strongest features of its flourishing condition are seen in a population rapidly increasing on a territory as productive as it is extensive; in a general industry and fertile ingenuity which find their ample rewards, and in an affluent revenue which admits a reduction of the public burdens without withdrawing the means of sustaining the public credit, of gradually discharging the public debt, of providing for the necessary defensive and precautionary establishments, and of patronizing in every authorized mode undertakings conducive to the aggregate wealth and individual comfort of our citizens. It remains for the guardians of the public welfare to persevere in that justice and good will toward other nations which invite a return of these sentiments toward the United States; to cherish institutions which guarantee their safety and their liberties, civil and religious; and to combine with a liberal system of foreign commerce an improvement of the national advantages and a protection and extension of the independent resources of our highly favored and happy country. In all measures having such objects my faithful cooperation will be afforded.  State of the Union Address James Madison December 3, 1816 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In reviewing the present state of our country, our attention cannot be withheld from the effect produced by peculiar seasons which have very generally impaired the annual gifts of the earth and threatened scarcity in particular districts. Such, however, is the variety of soils, of climates, and of products within our extensive limits that the aggregate resources for subsistence are more than sufficient for the aggregate wants. And as far as an economy of consumption, more than usual, may be necessary, our thankfulness is due to Providence for what is far more than a compensation, in the remarkable health which has distinguished the present year. Amidst the advantages which have succeeded the peace of Europe, and that of the United States with Great Britain, in a general invigoration of industry among us and in the extension of our commerce, the value of which is more and more disclosing itself to commercial nations, it is to be regretted that a depression is experienced by particular branches of our manufactures and by a portion of our navigation. As the first proceeds in an essential degree from an excess of imported merchandise, which carries a check in its own tendency, the cause in its present extent can not be very long in duration. The evil will not, however, be viewed by Congress without a recollection that manufacturing establishments, if suffered to sink too low or languish too long, may not revive after the causes shall have ceased, and that in the vicissitudes of human affairs situations may recur in which a dependence on foreign sources for indispensable supplies may be among the most serious embarrassments. The depressed state of our navigation is to be ascribed in a material degree to its exclusion from the colonial ports of the nation most extensively connected with us in commerce, and from the indirect operation of that exclusion. Previous to the late convention at London between the United States and Great Britain the relative state of the navigation laws of the two countries, growing out of the treaty of 1794, had given to the British navigation a material advantage over the American in the intercourse between the American ports and British ports in Europe. The convention of London equalized the laws of the two countries relating to those ports, leaving the intercourse between our ports and the ports of the British colonies subject, as before, to the respective regulations of the parties. The British Government enforcing now regulations which prohibit a trade between its colonies and the United States in American vessels, whilst they permit a trade in British vessels, the American navigation loses accordingly, and the loss is augmented by the advantage which is given to the British competition over the American in the navigation between our ports and British ports in Europe by the circuitous voyages enjoyed by the one and not enjoyed by the other. The reasonableness of the rule of reciprocity applied to one branch of the commercial intercourse has been pressed on our part as equally applicable to both branches; but it is ascertained that the British cabinet declines all negotiation on the subject, with a disavowal, however, of any disposition to view in an unfriendly light whatever countervailing regulations the United States may oppose to the regulations of which they complain. The wisdom of the Legislature will decide on the course which, under these circumstances, is prescribed by a joint regard to the amicable relations between the two nations and to the just interests of the United States. I have the satisfaction to state, generally, that we remain in amity with foreign powers. An occurrence has indeed taken place in the Gulf of Mexico which, if sanctioned by the Spanish Government, may make an exception as to that power. According to the report of our naval commander on that station, one of our public armed vessels was attacked by an overpowering force under a Spanish commander, and the American flag, with the officers and crew, insulted in a manner calling for prompt reparation. This has been demanded. In the mean time a frigate and a smaller vessel of war have been ordered into that Gulf for the protection of our commerce. It would be improper to omit that the representative of His Catholic Majesty in the United States lost no time in giving the strongest assurances that no hostile order could have emanated from his Government, and that it will be as ready to do as to expect whatever the nature of the case and the friendly relations of the two countries shall be found to require. The posture of our affairs with Algiers at the present moment is not known. The Dey, drawing pretexts from circumstances for which the United States were not answerable, addressed a letter to this Government declaring the treaty last concluded with him to have been annulled by our violation of it, and presenting as the alternative war or a renewal of the former treaty, which stipulated, among other things, an annual tribute. The answer, with an explicit declaration that the United States preferred war to tribute, required his recognition and observance of the treaty last made, which abolishes tribute and the slavery of our captured citizens. The result of the answer has not been received. Should he renew his warfare on our commerce, we rely on the protection it will find in our naval force actually in the Mediterranean. With the other Barbary States our affairs have undergone no change. The Indian tribes within our limits appear also disposed to remain at peace. From several of them purchases of lands have been made particularly favorable to the wishes and security of our frontier settlements, as well as to the general interests of the nation. In some instances the titles, though not supported by due proof, and clashing those of one tribe with the claims of another, have been extinguished by double purchases, the benevolent policy of the United States preferring the augmented expense to the hazard of doing injustice or to the enforcement of justice against a feeble and untutored people by means involving or threatening an effusion of blood. I am happy to add that the tranquillity which has been restored among the tribes themselves, as well as between them and our own population, will favor the resumption of the work of civilization which had made an encouraging progress among some tribes, and that the facility is increasing for extending that divided and individual ownership, which exists now in movable property only, to the soil itself, and of thus establishing in the culture and improvement of it the true foundation for a transit from the habits of the savage to the arts and comforts of social life. As a subject of the highest importance to the national welfare, I must again earnestly recommend to the consideration of Congress a reorganization of the militia on a plan which will form it into classes according to the periods of life more or less adapted to military services. An efficient militia is authorized and contemplated by the Constitution and required by the spirit and safety of free government. The present organization of our militia is universally regarded as less efficient than it ought to be made, and no organization can be better calculated to give to it its due force than a classification which will assign the foremost place in the defense of the country to that portion of its citizens whose activity and animation best enable them to rally to its standard. Besides the consideration that a time of peace is the time when the change can be made with most convenience and equity, it will now be aided by the experience of a recent war in which the militia bore so interesting a part. Congress will call to mind that no adequate provision has yet been made for the uniformity of weights and measures also contemplated by the Constitution. The great utility of a standard fixed in its nature and founded on the easy rule of decimal proportions is sufficiently obvious. It led the Government at an early stage to preparatory steps for introducing it, and a completion of the work will be a just title to the public gratitude. The importance which I have attached to the establishment of a university within this District on a scale and for objects worthy of the American nation induces me to renew my recommendation of it to the favorable consideration of Congress. And I particularly invite again their attention to the expediency of exercising their existing powers, and, where necessary, of resorting to the prescribed mode of enlarging them, in order to effectuate a comprehensive system of roads and canals, such as will have the effect of drawing more closely together every part of our country by promoting intercourse and improvements and by increasing the share of every part in the common stock of national prosperity. Occurrences having taken place which shew that the statutory provisions for the dispensation of criminal justice are deficient in relation both to places and to persons under the exclusive cognizance of the national authority, an amendment of the law embracing such cases will merit the earliest attention of the Legislature. It will be a seasonable occasion also for inquiring how far legislative interposition may be further requisite in providing penalties for offenses designated in the Constitution or in the statutes, and to which either no penalties are annexed or none with sufficient certainty. And I submit to the wisdom of Congress whether a more enlarged revisal of the criminal code be not expedient for the purpose of mitigating in certain cases penalties which were adopted into it antecedent to experiment and examples which justify and recommend a more lenient policy. The United States, having been the first to abolish within the extent of their authority the transportation of the natives of Africa into slavery, by prohibiting the introduction of slaves and by punishing their citizens participating in the traffic, can not but be gratified at the progress made by concurrent efforts of other nations toward a general suppression of so great an evil. They must feel at the same time the greater solicitude to give the fullest efficacy to their own regulations. With that view, the interposition of Congress appears to be required by the violations and evasions which it is suggested are chargeable on unworthy citizens who mingle in the slave trade under foreign flags and with foreign ports, and by collusive importations of slaves into the United States through adjoining ports and territories. I present the subject to Congress with a full assurance of their disposition to apply all the remedy which can be afforded by an amendment of the law. The regulations which were intended to guard against abuses of a kindred character in the trade between the several States ought also to be rendered more effectual for their humane object. To these recommendations I add, for the consideration of Congress, the expediency of a remodification of the judiciary establishment, and of an additional department in the executive branch of the Government. The first is called for by the accruing business which necessarily swells the duties of the Federal courts, and by the great and widening space within which justice is to be dispensed by them. The time seems to have arrived which claims for members of the Supreme Court a relief from itinerary fatigues, incompatible as well with the age which a portion of them will always have attained as with the researches and preparations which are due to their stations and to the juridical reputation of their country. And considerations equally cogent require a more convenient organization of the subordinate tribunals, which may be accomplished without an objectionable increase of the number or expense of the judges. The extent and variety of executive business also accumulating with the progress of our country and its growing population call for an additional department, to be charged with duties now overburdening other departments and with such as have not been annexed to any department. The course of experience recommends, as another improvement in the executive establishment, that the provision for the station of AttorneyGeneral, whose residence at the seat of Government, official connections with it, and the management of the public business before the judiciary preclude an extensive participation in professional emoluments, be made more adequate to his services and his relinquishments, and that, with a view to his reasonable accommodation and to a proper depository of his official opinions and proceedings, there be included in the provision the usual appurtenances to a public office. In directing the legislative attention to the state of the finances it is a subject of great gratification to find that even within the short period which has elapsed since the return of peace the revenue has far exceeded all the current demands upon the Treasury, and that under any probable diminution of its future annual products which the vicissitudes of commerce may occasion it will afford an ample fund for the effectual and early extinguishment of the public debt. It has been estimated that during the year 1816 the actual receipts of revenue at the Treasury, including the balance at the commencement of the year, and excluding the proceeds of loans and Treasury notes, will amount to about the sum of 47 millions; that during the same year the actual payments at the Treasury, including the payment of the arrearages of the War Department as well as the payment of a considerable excess beyond the annual appropriations, will amount to about the sum of 38 millions, and that consequently at the close of the year there will be a surplus in the Treasury of about the sum of 9 millions. The operations of the Treasury continued to be obstructed by difficulties arising from the condition of the national currency, but they have nevertheless been effectual to a beneficial extent in the reduction of the public debt and the establishment of the public credit. The floating debt of Treasury notes and temporary loans will soon be entirely discharged. The aggregate of the funded debt, composed of debts incurred during the wars of 1776 and 1812, has been estimated with reference to the first of January next at a sum not exceeding 110 millions. The ordinary annual expenses of the Government for the maintenance of all its institutions, civil, military, and naval, have been estimated at a sum greater than 20 millions, and the permanent revenue to be derived from all the existing sources has been estimated at a sum of 25 millions. Upon this general view of the subject it is obvious that there is only wanting to the fiscal prosperity of the Government the restoration of an uniform medium of exchange. The resources and the faith of the nation, displayed in the system which Congress has established, insure respect and confidence both at home and abroad. The local accumulations of the revenue have already enabled the Treasury to meet the public engagements in the local currency of most of the States, and it is expected that the same cause will produce the same effect throughout the Union; but for the interests of the community at large, as well as for the purposes of the Treasury, it is essential that the nation should possess a currency of equal value, credit, and use wherever it may circulate. The Constitution has intrusted Congress exclusively with the power of creating and regulating a currency of that description, and the measures which were taken during the last session in execution of the power give every promise of success. The Bank of the United States has been organized under auspices the most favorable, and can not fail to be an important auxiliary to those measures. For a more enlarged view of the public finances, with a view of the measures pursued by the Treasury Department previous to the resignation of the late Secretary, I transmit an extract from the last report of that officer. Congress will perceive in it ample proofs of the solid foundation on which the financial prosperity of the nation rests, and will do justice to the distinguished ability and successful exertions with which the duties of the Department were executed during a period remarkable for its difficulties and its peculiar perplexities. The period of my retiring from the public service being at little distance, I shall find no occasion more proper than the present for expressing to my fellow citizens my deep sense of the continued confidence and kind support which I have received from them. My grateful recollection of these distinguished marks of their favorable regard can never cease, and with the consciousness that, if I have not served my country with greater ability, I have served it with a sincere devotion will accompany me as a source of unfailing gratification. Happily, I shall carry with me from the public theater other sources, which those who love their country most will best appreciate. I shall behold it blessed with tranquillity and prosperity at home and with peace and respect abroad. I can indulge the proud reflection that the American people have reached in safety and success their 40th year as an independent nation; that for nearly an entire generation they have had experience of their present Constitution, the offspring of their undisturbed deliberations and of their free choice; that they have found it to bear the trials of adverse as well as prosperous circumstances; to contain in its combination of the federate and elective principles a reconcilement of public strength with individual liberty, of national power for the defense of national rights with a security against wars of injustice, of ambition, and vainglory in the fundamental provision which subjects all questions of war to the will of the nation itself, which is to pay its costs and feel its calamities. Nor is it less a peculiar felicity of this Constitution, so dear to us all, that it is found to be capable, without losing its vital energies, of expanding itself over a spacious territory with the increase and expansion of the community for whose benefit it was established. And may I not be allowed to add to this gratifying spectacle that I shall read in the character of the American people, in their devotion to true liberty and to the Constitution which is its palladium, sure presages that the destined career of my country will exhibit a Government pursuing the public good as its sole object, and regulating its means by the great principles consecrated in its charter and by those moral principles to which they are so well allied; a Government which watches over the purity of elections, the freedom of speech and of the press, the trial by jury, and the equal interdict against encroachments and compacts between religion and the state; which maintains inviolably the maxims of public faith, the security of persons and property, and encourages in every authorized mode the general diffusion of knowledge which guarantees to public liberty its permanency and to those who possess the blessing the true enjoyment of it; a Government which avoids intrusions on the internal repose of other nations, and repels them from its own; which does justice to all nations with a readiness equal to the firmness with which it requires justice from them; and which, whilst it refines its domestic code from every ingredient not congenial with the precepts of an enlightened age and the sentiments of a virtuous people, seeks by appeals to reason and by its liberal examples to infuse into the law which governs the civilized world a spirit which may diminish the frequency or circumscribe the calamities of war, and meliorate the social and beneficent relations of peace; a Government, in a word, whose conduct within and without may bespeak the most noble of ambitions that of promoting peace on earth and good will to man. These contemplations, sweetening the remnant of my days, will animate my prayers for the happiness of my beloved country, and a perpetuity of the institutions under which it is enjoyed. State of the Union Addresses of James Monroe The addresses are separated by three asterisks:  Dates of addresses by James Monroe in this eBook: December 12, 1817 November 16, 1818 December 7, 1819 November 14, 1820 December 3, 1821 December 3, 1822 December 2, 1823 December 7, 1824  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 12, 1817 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: At no period of our political existence had we so much cause to felicitate ourselves at the prosperous and happy condition of our country. The abundant fruits of the earth have filled it with plenty. An extensive and profitable commerce has greatly augmented our revenue. The public credit has attained an extraordinary elevation. Our preparations for defense in case of future wars, from which, by the experience of all nations, we ought not to expect to be exempted, are advancing under a welldigested system with all the dispatch which so important a work will admit. Our free Government, founded on the interest and affections of the people, has gained and is daily gaining strength. Local jealousies are rapidly yielding to more generous, enlarged, and enlightened views of national policy. For advantages so numerous and highly important it is our duty to unite in grateful acknowledgements to that Omnipotent Being from whom they are derived, and in unceasing prayer that He will endow us with virtue and strength to maintain and hand them down in their utmost purity to our latest posterity. I have the satisfaction to inform you that an arrangement which had been commenced by my predecessor with the British Government for the reduction of the naval force by Great Britain and the United States on the Lakes has been concluded, by which it is provided that neither party shall keep in service on Lake Champlain more than one vessel, on Lake Ontario more than one, and on Lake Erie and the upper lakes more than two, to be armed each with one cannon only, and that all the other armed vessels of both parties, of which an exact list is interchanged, shall be dismantled. It is also agreed that the force retained shall be restricted in its duty to the internal purposes of each party, and that the arrangement shall remain in force until six months shall have expired after notice given by one of the parties to the other of its desire that it should terminate. By this arrangement useless expense on both sides and, what is of still greater importance, the danger of collision between armed vessels in those inland waters, which was great, is prevented. I have the satisfaction also to state that the commissioners under the fourth article of the treaty of Ghent, to whom it was referred to decide to which party the several islands in the bay of Passamaquoddy belonged under the treaty of 1783, have agreed in a report, by which all the islands in the possession of each party before the late war have been decreed to it. The commissioners acting under the other articles of the treaty of Ghent for the settlement of boundaries have also been engaged in the discharge of their respective duties, but have not yet completed them. The difference which arose between the two Governments under that treaty respecting the right of the US to take and cure fish on the coast of the British provinces north of our limits, which had been secured by the treaty of 1783, is still in negotiation. The proposition made by this Government to extend to the colonies of Great Britain the principle of the convention of London, by which the commerce between the ports of the United States and British ports in Europe had been placed on a footing of equality, has been declined by the British Government. This subject having been thus amicably discussed between the two Governments, and it appearing that the British Government is unwilling to depart from its present regulations, it remains for Congress to decide whether they will make any other regulations in consequence thereof for the protection and improvement of our navigation. The negotiation with Spain for spoliations on our commerce and the settlement of boundaries remains essentially in the state it held by the communications that were made to Congress by my predecessor. It has been evidently the policy of the Spanish Government to keep the negotiation suspended, and in this the United States have acquiesced, from an amicable disposition toward Spain and in the expectation that her Government would, from a sense of justice, finally accede to such an arrangement as would be equal between the parties. A disposition has been lately shown by the Spanish Government to move in the negotiation, which has been met by this Government, and should the conciliatory and friendly policy which has invariably guided our councils be reciprocated, a just and satisfactory arrangement may be expected. It is proper, however, to remark that no proposition has yet been made from which such a result can be presumed. It was anticipated at an early stage that the contest between Spain and the colonies would become highly interesting to the United States. It was natural that our citizens should sympathize in events which affected their neighbors. It seemed probable also that the prosecution of the conflict along our coast and in contiguous countries would occasionally interrupt our commerce and otherwise affect the persons and property of our citizens. These anticipations have been realized. Such injuries have been received from persons acting under authority of both the parties, and for which redress has in most instances been withheld. Through every stage of the conflict the United States have maintained an impartial neutrality, giving aid to neither of the parties in men, money, ships, or munitions of war. They have regarded the contest not in the light of an ordinary insurrection or rebellion, but as a civil war between parties nearly equal, having as to neutral powers equal rights. Our ports have been open to both, and every article the fruit of our soil or of the industry of our citizens which either was permitted to take has been equally free to the other. Should the colonies establish their independence, it is proper now to state that this Government neither seeks nor would accept from them any advantage in commerce or otherwise which will not be equally open to all other nations. The colonies will in that event become independent states, free from any obligation to or connection with us which it may not then be their interest to form on the basis of a fair reciprocity. In the summer of the present year an expedition was set on foot against East Florida by persons claiming to act under the authority of some of the colonies, who took possession of Amelia Island, at the mouth of the St. Marys River, near the boundary of the State of Georgia. As this Province lies eastward of the Mississippi, and is bounded by the United States and the ocean on every side, and has been a subject of negotiation with the Government of Spain as an indemnity for losses by spoliation or in exchange for territory of equal value westward of the Mississippi, a fact well known to the world, it excited surprise that any countenance should be given to this measure by any of the colonies. As it would be difficult to reconcile it with the friendly relations existing between the United States and the colonies, a doubt was entertained whether it had been authorized by them, or any of them. This doubt has gained strength by the circumstances which have unfolded themselves in the prosecution of the enterprise, which have marked it as a mere private, unauthorized adventure. Projected and commenced with an incompetent force, reliance seems to have been placed on what might be drawn, in defiance of our laws, from within our limits; and of late, as their resources have failed, it has assumed a more marked character of unfriendliness to us, the island being made a channel for the illicit introduction of slaves from Africa into the United States, an asylum for fugitive slaves from the neighboring States, and a port for smuggling of every kind. A similar establishment was made at an earlier period by persons of the same description in the Gulf of Mexico at a place called Galvezton, within the limits of the United States, as we contend, under the cession of Louisiana. This enterprise has been marked in a more signal manner by all the objectionable circumstances which characterized the other, and more particularly by the equipment of privateers which have annoyed our commerce, and by smuggling. These establishments, if ever sanctioned by any authority whatever, which is not believed, have abused their trust and forfeited all claim to consideration. A just regard for the rights and interests of the United States required that they should be suppressed, and orders have been accordingly issued to that effect. The imperious considerations which produced this measure will be explained to the parties whom it may in any degree concern. To obtain correct information on every subject in which the United States are interested; to inspire just sentiments in all persons in authority, on either side, of our friendly disposition so far as it may comport with an impartial neutrality, and to secure proper respect to our commerce in every port and from every flag, it has been thought proper to send a ship of war with three distinguished citizens along the southern coast with these purposes. With the existing authorities, with those in the possession of and exercising the sovereignty, must the communication be held; from them alone can redress for past injuries committed by persons acting under them be obtained; by them alone can the commission of the like in future be prevented. Our relations with the other powers of Europe have experienced no essential change since the last session. In our intercourse with each due attention continues to be paid to the protection of our commerce, and to every other object in which the United States are interested. A strong hope is entertained that, by adhering to the maxims of a just, a candid, and friendly policy, we may long preserve amicable relations with all the powers of Europe on conditions advantageous and honorable to our country. With the Barbary States and the Indian tribes our pacific relations have been preserved. In calling your attention to the internal concerns of our country the view which they exhibit is peculiarly gratifying. The payments which have been made into the Treasury show the very productive state of the public revenue. After satisfying the appropriations made by law for the support of the civil Government and of the military and naval establishments, embracing suitable provision for fortifications and for the gradual increase of the Navy, paying the interest of the public debt, and extinguishing more than 18 millions of the principal, within the present year, it is estimated that a balance of more than 6 millions will remain in the Treasury on the first day of January applicable to the current service of the ensuing year. The payments into the Treasury during the year 1818 on account of imposts and tonnage, resulting principally from duties which have accrued in the present year, may be fairly estimated at 20 millions; the internal revenues at 2.5 millions; the public lands at 1.5 millions; bank dividends and incidental receipts at 500,000; making in the whole 24.5 millions. The annual permanent expenditure for the support of the civil Government and of the Army and Navy, as now established by law, amounts to 11.8 millions, and for the sinking fund to 10 millions, making in the whole 21.8 millions, leaving an annual excess of revenue beyond the expenditure of 2.7 millions, exclusive of the balance estimated to be in the Treasury on the first day of January, 1818. In the present state of the Treasury the whole of the Louisiana debt may be redeemed in the year 1819, after which, if the public debt continues as it now is, above par, there will be annually about 5 millions of the sinking fund unexpended until the year 1825, when the loan of 1812 and the stock created by funding Treasury notes will be redeemable. It is also estimated that the Mississippi stock will be discharged during the year 1819 from the proceeds of the public lands assigned to that object, after which the receipts from those lands will annually add to the public revenue the sum of 1.5 millions, making the permanent annual revenue amount to 26 millions, and leaving an annual excess of revenue after the year 1819 beyond the permanent authorized expenditure of more than 4 millions. By the last returns to the Department of War the militia force of the several States may be estimated at 800,000 meninfantry, artillery, and cavalry. Great part of this force is armed, and measures are taken to arm the whole. An improvement in the organization and discipline of the militia is one of the great objects which claims the unremitted attention of Congress. The regular force amounts nearly to the number required by law, and is stationed along the Atlantic and inland frontiers. Of the naval force it has been necessary to maintain strong squadrons in the Mediterranean and in the Gulf of Mexico. From several of the Indian tribes inhabiting the country bordering on Lake Erie purchases have been made of lands on conditions very favorable to the United States, and, as it is presumed, not less so to the tribes themselves. By these purchases the Indian title, with moderate reservations, has been extinguished to the whole of the land within the limits of the State of Ohio, and to a part of that in the Michigan Territory and of the State of Indiana. From the Cherokee tribe a tract has been purchased in the State of Georgia and an arrangement made by which, in exchange for lands beyond the Mississippi, a great part, if not the whole, of the land belonging to that tribe eastward of that river in the States of North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee, and in the Alabama Territory will soon be acquired. By these acquisitions, and others that may reasonably be expected soon to follow, we shall be enabled to extend our settlements from the inhabited parts of the State of Ohio along Lake Erie into the Michigan Territory, and to connect our settlements by degrees through the State of Indiana and the Illinois Territory to that of Missouri. A similar and equally advantageous effect will soon be produced to the south, through the whole extent of the States and territory which border on the waters emptying into the Mississippi and the Mobile. In this progress, which the rights of nature demand and nothing can prevent, marking a growth rapid and gigantic, it is our duty to make new efforts for the preservation, improvement, and civilization of the native inhabitants. The hunter state can exist only in the vast uncultivated desert. It yields to the more dense and compact form and greater force of civilized population; and of right it ought to yield, for the earth was given to mankind to support the greatest number of which it is capable, and no tribe or people have a right to withhold from the wants of others more than is necessary for their own support and comfort. It is gratifying to know that the reservations of land made by the treaties with the tribes on Lake Erie were made with a view to individual ownership among them and to the cultivation of the soil by all, and that an annual stipend has been pledged to supply their other wants. It will merit the consideration of Congress whether other provision not stipulated by treaty ought to be made for these tribes and for the advancement of the liberal and humane policy of the United States toward all the tribes within our limits, and more particularly for their improvement in the arts of civilized life. Among the advantages incident to these purchases, and to those which have preceded, the security which may thereby be afforded to our inland frontiers is peculiarly important. With a strong barrier, consisting of our own people, thus planted on the Lakes, the Mississippi, and the Mobile, with the protection to be derived from the regular force, Indian hostilities, if they do not altogether cease, will henceforth lose their terror. Fortifications in those quarters to any extent will not be necessary, and the expense of attending them may be saved. A people accustomed to the use of firearms only, as the Indian tribes are, will shun even moderate works which are defended by cannon. Great fortifications will therefore be requisite only in future along the coast and at some points in the interior connected with it. On these will the safety of our towns and the commerce of our great rivers, from the Bay of Fundy to the Mississippi, depend. On these, therefore, should the utmost attention, skill, and labor be bestowed. A considerable and rapid augmentation in the value of all the public lands, proceeding from these and other obvious cases, may henceforward be expected. The difficulties attending early emigrations will be dissipated even in the most remote parts. Several new States have been admitted into our Union to the west and south, and Territorial governments, happily organized, established over every other portion in which there is vacant land for sale. In terminating Indian hostilities, as must soon be done, in a formidable shape at least, the emigration, which has heretofore been great, will probably increase, and the demand for land and the augmentation in its value be in like proportion. The great increase of our population throughout the Union will alone produce an important effect, and in no quarter will it be so sensibly felt as in those in contemplation. The public lands are a public stock, which ought to be disposed of to the best advantage for the nation. The nation should therefore derive the profit proceeding from the continual rise in their value. Every encouragement should be given to the emigrants consistent with a fair competition between them, but that competition should operate in the first sale to the advantage of the nation rather than of individuals. Great capitalists will derive the benefit incident to their superior wealth under any mode of sale which may be adopted, but if, looking forward to the rise in the value of the public lands, they should have the opportunity of amassing at a low price vast bodies in their hands, the profit will accrue to them and not to the public. They would also have the power in that degree to control the emigration and settlement in such a manner as their opinion of their respective interests might dictate. I submit this subject to the consideration of Congress, that such further provision may be made in the sale of the public lands, with a view to the public interest, should any be deemed expedient, as in their judgment may be best adapted to the object. When we consider the vast extent of territory within the United States, the great amount and value of its productions, the connection of its parts, and other circumstances on which their prosperity and happiness depend, we can not fail to entertain a high sense of the advantage to be derived from the facility which may be afforded in the intercourse between them by means of good roads and canals. Never did a country of such vast extent offer equal inducements to improvements of this kind, nor ever were consequences of such magnitude involved in them. As this subject was acted on by Congress at the last session, and there may be a disposition to revive it at the present, I have brought it into view for the purpose of communicating my sentiments on a very important circumstance connected with it with that freedom and candor which a regard for the public interest and a proper respect for Congress require. A difference of opinion has existed from the first formation of our Constitution to the present time among our most enlightened and virtuous citizens respecting the right of Congress to establish such a system of improvement. Taking into view the trust with which I am now honored, it would be improper after what has passed that this discussion should be revived with an uncertainty of my opinion respecting the right. Disregarding early impressions I have bestowed on the subject all the deliberation which its great importance and a just sense of my duty required, and the result is a settled conviction in my mind that Congress do not possess the right. It is not contained in any of the specified powers granted to Congress, nor can I consider it incidental to or a necessary means, viewed on the most liberal scale, for carrying into effect any of the powers which are specifically granted. In communicating this result I can not resist the obligation which I feel to suggest to Congress the propriety of recommending to the States the adoption of an amendment to the Constitution which shall give to Congress the right in question. In cases of doubtful construction, especially of such vital interest, it comports with the nature and origin of our institutions, and will contribute much to preserve them, to apply to our constituents for an explicit grant of the power. We may confidently rely that if it appears to their satisfaction that the power is necessary, it will always be granted. In this case I am happy to observe that experience has afforded the most ample proof of its utility, and that the benign spirit of conciliation and harmony which now manifests itself throughout our Union promises to such a recommendation the most prompt and favorable result. I think proper to suggest also, in case this measure is adopted, that it be recommended to the States to include in the amendment sought a right in Congress to institute likewise seminaries of learning, for the allimportant purpose of diffusing knowledge among our fellowcitizens throughout the United States. Our manufactories will require the continued attention of Congress. The capital employed in them is considerable, and the knowledge acquired in the machinery and fabric of all the most useful manufactures is of great value. Their preservation, which depends on due encouragement, is connected with the high interests of the nation. Although the progress of the public buildings has been as favorable as circumstances have permitted, it is to be regretted that the Capitol is not yet in a state to receive you. There is good cause to presume that the two wings, the only parts as yet commenced, will be prepared for that purpose at the next session. The time seems now to have arrived when this subject may be deemed worthy the attention of Congress on a scale adequate to national purposes. The completion of the middle building will be necessary to the convenient accommodation of Congress, of the committees, and various offices belonging to it. It is evident that the other public buildings are altogether insufficient for the accommodation of the several Executive Departments, some of whom are much crowded and even subjected to the necessity of obtaining it in private buildings at some distance from the head of the Department, and with inconvenience to the management of the public business. Most nations have taken an interest and a pride in the improvement and ornament of their metropolis, and none were more conspicuous in that respect than the ancient republics. The policy which dictated the establishment of a permanent residence for the National Government and the spirit in which it was commenced and has been prosecuted show that such improvement was thought worthy the attention of this nation. Its central position, between the northern and southern extremes of our Union, and its approach to the west at the head of a great navigable river which interlocks with the Western waters, prove the wisdom of the councils which established it. Nothing appears to be more reasonable and proper than that convenient accommodation should be provided on a welldigested plan for the heads of the several Departments and for the AttorneyGeneral, and it is believed that the public ground in the city applied to these objects will be found amply sufficient. I submit this subject to the consideration of Congress, that such further provision may be made in it as to them may seem proper. In contemplating the happy situation of the United States, our attention is drawn with peculiar interest to the surviving officers and soldiers of our Revolutionary army, who so eminently contributed by their services to lay its foundation. Most of those very meritorious citizens have paid the debt of nature and gone to repose. It is believed that among the survivors there are some not provided for by existing laws, who are reduced to indigence and even to real distress. These men have a claim on the gratitude of their country, and it will do honor to their country to provide for them. The lapse of a few years more and the opportunity will be forever lost; indeed, so long already has been the interval that the number to be benefitted by any provision which may be made will not be great. It appearing in a satisfactory manner that the revenue arising from imposts and tonnage and from the sale of the public lands will be fully adequate to the support of the civil Government, of the present military and naval establishments, including the annual augmentation of the latter to the extent provided for, to the payment of the interest of the public debt, and to the extinguishment of it at the times authorized, without the aid of the internal taxes, I consider it my duty to recommend to Congress their repeal. To impose taxes when the public exigencies require them is an obligation of the most sacred character, especially with a free people. The faithful fulfillment of it is among the highest proofs of their value and capacity for selfgovernment. To dispense with taxes when it may be done with perfect safety is equally the duty of their representatives. In this instance we have the satisfaction to know that they were imposed when the demand was imperious, and have been sustained with exemplary fidelity. I have to add that however gratifying it may be to me regarding the prosperous and happy condition of our country to recommend the repeal of these taxes at this time, I shall nevertheless be attentive to events, and, should any future emergency occur, be not less prompt to suggest such measures and burdens as may then be requisite and proper.  State of the Union Address James Monroe November 16, 1818 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: The auspicious circumstances under which you will commence the duties of the present session will lighten the burdens inseparable from the high trust committed to you. The fruits of the earth have been unusually abundant, commerce has flourished, the revenue has exceeded the most favorable anticipation, and peace and amity are preserved with foreign nations on conditions just and honorable to our country. For these inestimable blessings we can not but be grateful to that Providence which watches over the destiny of nations. As the term limited for the operation of the commercial convention with Great Britain will expire early in the month of July next, and it was deemed important that there should be no interval during which that portion of our commerce which was provided for by that convention should not be regulated, either by arrangement between the two Governments or by the authority of Congress, the minister of the United States at London was instructed early in the last summer to invite the attention of the British Government to the subject, with a view to that object. He was instructed to propose also that the negotiation which it was wished to open might extend to the general commerce of the two countries, and to every other interest and unsettled difference between them in the hope that an arrangement might be made on principles of reciprocal advantage which might comprehend and provide in a satisfactory manner for all these high concerns. I have the satisfaction to state that the proposal was received by the British Government in the spirit which prompted it, and that a negotiation has been opened at London embracing all these objects. On full consideration of the great extent and magnitude of the trust it was thought proper to commit it to not less than two of our distinguished citizens, and in consequence the envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary of the United States at Paris has been associated with our envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary at London, to both of whom corresponding instructions have been given, and they are now engaged in the discharge of its duties. It is proper to add that to prevent any inconvenience resulting from the delay incident to a negotiation on so many important subjects it was agreed before entering on it that the existing convention should be continued for a term not less than eight years. Our relations with Spain remain nearly in the state in which they were at the close of the last session. The convention of 1802, providing for the adjustment of a certain portion of the claims of our citizens for injuries sustained by spoliation, and so long suspended by the Spanish Government, has at length been ratified by it, but no arrangement has yet been made for the payment of another portion of like claims, not less extensive or well founded, or for other classes of claims, or for the settlement of boundaries. These subjects have again been brought under consideration in both countries, but no agreement has been entered into respecting them. In the mean time events have occurred which clearly prove the ill effect of the policy which that Government has so long pursued on the friendly relations of the two countries, which it is presumed is at least of as much importance to Spain as to the United States to maintain. A state of things has existed in the Floridas the tendency of which has been obvious to all who have paid the slightest attention to the progress of affairs in that quarter. Throughout the whole of those Provinces to which the Spanish title extends the Government of Spain has scarcely been felt. Its authority has been confined almost exclusively to the walls of Pensacola and St. Augustine, within which only small garrisons have been maintained. Adventurers from every country, fugitives from justice, and absconding slaves have found an asylum there. Several tribes of Indians, strong in the number of their warriors, remarkable for their ferocity, and whose settlements extend to our limits, inhabit those Provinces. These different hordes of people, connected together, disregarding on the one side the authority of Spain, and protected on the other by an imaginary line which separates Florida from the United States, have violated our laws prohibiting the introduction of slaves, have practiced various frauds on our revenue, and committed every kind of outrage on our peaceable citizens which their proximity to us enabled them to perpetrate. The invasion of Amelia Island last year by a small band of adventurers, not exceeding one hundred and fifty in number, who wrested it from the inconsiderable Spanish force stationed there, and held it several months, during which a single feeble effort only was made to recover it, which failed, clearly proves how completely extinct the Spanish authority had become, as the conduct of those adventurers while in possession of the island as distinctly shows the pernicious purposes for which their combination had been formed. This country had, in fact, become the theater of every species of lawless adventure. With little population of its own, the Spanish authority almost extinct, and the colonial governments in a state of revolution, having no pretension to it, and sufficiently employed in their own concerns, it was in great measure derelict, and the object of cupidity to every adventurer. A system of buccaneering was rapidly organizing over it which menaced in its consequences the lawful commerce of every nation, and particularly the United States, while it presented a temptation to every people, on whose seduction its success principally depended. In regard to the United States, the pernicious effect of this unlawful combination was not confined to the ocean; the Indian tribes have constituted the effective force in Florida. With these tribes these adventurers had formed at an early period a connection with a view to avail themselves of that force to promote their own projects of accumulation and aggrandizement. It is to the interference of some of these adventurers, in misrepresenting the claims and titles of the Indians to land and in practicing on their savage propensities, that the Seminole war is principally to be traced. Men who thus connect themselves with savage communities and stimulate them to war, which is always attended on their part with acts of barbarity the most shocking, deserve to be viewed in a worse light than the savages. They would certainly have no claim to an immunity from the punishment which, according to the rules of warfare practiced by the savages, might justly be inflicted on the savages themselves. If the embarrassments of Spain prevented her from making an indemnity to our citizens for so long a time from her treasury for their losses by spoliation and otherwise, it was always in her power to have provided it by the cession of this territory. Of this her Government has been repeatedly apprised, and the cession was the more to have been anticipated as Spain must have known that in ceding it she would likewise relieve herself from the important obligation secured by the treaty of 1795 and all other compromitments respecting it. If the United States, from consideration of these embarrassments, declined pressing their claims in a spirit of hostility, the motive ought at least to have been duly appreciated by the Government of Spain. It is well known to her Government that other powers have made to the United States an indemnity for like losses sustained by their citizens at the same epoch. There is nevertheless a limit beyond which this spirit of amity and forbearance can in no instance be justified. If it was proper to rely on amicable negotiation for an indemnity for losses, it would not have been so to have permitted the inability of Spain to fulfill her engagements and to sustain her authority in the Floridas to be perverted by foreign adventurers and savages to purposes so destructive to the lives of our fellow citizens and the highest interests of the United States. The right of self defense never ceases. It is among the most sacred, and alike necessary to nations and to individuals, and whether the attack be made by Spain herself or by those who abuse her power, its obligation is not the less strong. The invaders of Amelia Island had assumed a popular and respected title under which they might approach and wound us. As their object was distinctly seen, and the duty imposed on the Executive by an existing law was profoundly felt, that mask was not permitted to protect them. It was thought incumbent on the United States to suppress the establishment, and it was accordingly done. The combination in Florida for the unlawful purposes stated, the acts perpetrated by that combination, and, above all, the incitement of the Indians to massacre our fellow citizens of every age and of both sexes, merited a like treatment and received it. In pursuing these savages to an imaginary line in the woods it would have been the height of folly to have suffered that line to protect them. Had that been done the war could never cease. Even if the territory had been exclusively that of Spain and her power complete over it, we had a right by the law of nations to follow the enemy on it and to subdue him there. But the territory belonged, in a certain sense at least, to the savage enemy who inhabited it; the power of Spain had ceased to exist over it, and protection was sought under her title by those who had committed on our citizens hostilities which she was bound by treaty to have prevented, but had not the power to prevent. To have stopped at that line would have given new encouragement to these savages and new vigor to the whole combination existing there in the prosecution of all its pernicious purposes. In suppressing the establishment at Amelia Island no unfriendliness was manifested toward Spain, because the post was taken from a force which had wrested it from her. The measure, it is true, was not adopted in concert with the Spanish Government or those in authority under it, because in transactions connected with the war in which Spain and the colonies are engaged it was thought proper in doing justice to the United States to maintain a strict impartiality toward both the belligerent parties without consulting or acting in concert with either. It gives me pleasure to state that the Governments of Buenos Ayres and Venezuela, whose names were assumed, have explicitly disclaimed all participation in those measures, and even the knowledge of them until communicated by this Government, and have also expressed their satisfaction that a course of proceedings had been suppressed which if justly imputable to them would dishonor their cause. In authorizing MajorGeneral Jackson to enter Florida in pursuit of the Seminoles care was taken not to encroach on the rights of Spain. I regret to have to add that in executing this order facts were disclosed respecting the conduct of the officers of Spain in authority there in encouraging the war, furnishing munitions of war and other supplies to carry it on, and in other acts not less marked which evinced their participation in the hostile purposes of that combination and justified the confidence with which it inspired the savages that by those officers they would be protected. A conduct so incompatible with the friendly relations existing between the two countries, particularly with the positive obligations of the 5th article of the treaty of 1795, by which Spain was bound to restrain, even by force, those savages from acts of hostility against the United States, could not fail to excite surprise. The commanding general was convinced that he should fail in his object, that he should in effect accomplish nothing, if he did not deprive those savages of the resource on which they had calculated and of the protection on which they had relied in making the war. As all the documents relating to this occurrence will be laid before Congress, it is not necessary to enter into further detail respecting it. Although the reasons which induced MajorGeneral Jackson to take these posts were duly appreciated, there was nevertheless no hesitation in deciding on the course which it became the Government to pursue. As there was reason to believe that the commanders of these posts had violated their instructions, there was no disposition to impute to their Government a conduct so unprovoked and hostile. An order was in consequence issued to the general in command there to deliver the postsPensacola unconditionally to any person duly authorized to receive it, and St. Marks, which is in the heart of the Indian country, on the arrival of a competent force to defend it against those savages and their associates. In entering Florida to suppress this combination no idea was entertained of hostility to Spain, and however justifiable the commanding general was, in consequence of the misconduct of the Spanish officers, in entering St. Marks and Pensacola to terminate it by proving to the savages and their associates that they should not be protected even there, yet the amicable relations existing between the United States and Spain could not be altered by that act alone. By ordering the restitution of the posts those relations were preserved. To a change of them the power of the Executive is deemed incompetent; it is vested in Congress only. By this measure, so promptly taken, due respect was shown to the Government of Spain. The misconduct of her officers has not been imputed to her. She was enabled to review with candor her relations with the United States and her own situation, particularly in respect to the territory in question, with the dangers inseparable from it, and regarding the losses we have sustained for which indemnity has been so long withheld, and the injuries we have suffered through that territory, and her means of redress, she was likewise enabled to take with honor the course best calculated to do justice to the United States and to promote her own welfare. Copies of the instructions to the commanding general, of his correspondence with the Secretary of War, explaining his motives and justifying his conduct, with a copy of the proceedings of the courtsmartial in the trial of Arbuthnot and Ambristie, and of the correspondence between the Secretary of State and the minister plenipotentiary of Spain near this Government, and of the minister plenipotentiary of the United States at Madrid with the Government of Spain, will be laid before Congress. The civil war which has so long prevailed between Spain and the Provinces in South America still continues, without any prospect of its speedy termination. The information respecting the condition of those countries which has been collected by the commissioners recently returned from thence will be laid before Congress in copies of their reports, with such other information as has been received from other agents of the United States. It appears from these communications that the Government at Buenos Ayres declared itself independent in July, 1816, having previously exercised the power of an independent Government, though in the name of the King of Spain, from the year 1810; that the Banda Oriental, Entre Rios, and Paraguay, with the city of Santa Fee, all of which are also independent, are unconnected with the present Government of Buenos Ayres; that Chili has declared itself independent and is closely connected with Buenos Ayres; that Venezuela has also declared itself independent, and now maintains the conflict with various success; and that the remaining parts of South America, except Monte Video and such other portions of the eastern bank of the La Plata as are held by Portugal, are still in the possession of Spain or in a certain degree under her influence. By a circular note addressed by the ministers of Spain to the allied powers, with whom they are respectively accredited, it appears that the allies have undertaken to mediate between Spain and the South American Provinces, and that the manner and extent of their interposition would be settled by a congress which was to have met at AixlaChapelle in September last. From the general policy and course of proceeding observed by the allied powers in regard to this contest it is inferred that they will confine their interposition to the expression of their sentiments, abstaining from the application of force. I state this impression that force will not be applied with the greater satisfaction because it is a course more consistent with justice and likewise authorizes a hope that the calamities of the war will be confined to the parties only, and will be of shorter duration. From the view taken of this subject, founded on all the information that we have been able to obtain, there is good cause to be satisfied with the course heretofore pursued by the United States in regard to this contest, and to conclude that it is proper to adhere to it, especially in the present state of affairs. I have great satisfaction in stating that our relations with France, Russia, and other powers continue on the most friendly basis. In our domestic concerns we have ample cause of satisfaction. The receipts into the Treasury during the three first quarters of the year have exceeded 17 millions. After satisfying all the demands which have been made under existing appropriations, including the final extinction of the old 6 stock and the redemption of a moiety of the Louisiana debt, it is estimated that there will remain in the Treasury on the 1st day of January next more than 2 millions. It is ascertained that the gross revenue which has accrued from the customs during the same period amounts to 21 millions, and that the revenue of the whole year may be estimated at not less than 26 millions. The sale of the public lands during the year has also greatly exceeded, both in quantity and price, that of any former year, and there is just reason to expect a progressive improvement in that source of revenue. It is gratifying to know that although the annual expenditure has been increased by the act of the last session of Congress providing for Revolutionary pensions to an amount about equal to the proceeds of the internal duties which were then repealed, the revenue for the ensuing year will be proportionally augmented, and that whilst the public expenditure will probably remain stationary, each successive year will add to the national resources by the ordinary increase of our population and by the gradual development of our latent sources of national prosperity. The strict execution of the revenue laws, resulting principally from the salutary provisions of the act of the 20th of April last amending the several collection laws, has, it is presumed, secured to domestic manufactures all the relief that can be derived from the duties which have been imposed upon foreign merchandise for their protection. Under the influence of this relief several branches of this important national interest have assumed greater activity, and although it is hoped that others will gradually revive and ultimately triumph over every obstacle, yet the expediency of granting further protection is submitted to your consideration. The measures of defense authorized by existing laws have been pursued with the zeal and activity due to so important an object, and with all the dispatch practicable in so extensive and great an undertaking. The survey of our maritime and inland frontiers has been continued, and at the points where it was decided to erect fortifications the work has been commenced, and in some instances considerable progress has been made. In compliance with resolutions of the last session, the Board of Commissioners were directed to examine in a particular manner the parts of the coast therein designated and to report their opinion of the most suitable sites for two naval depots. This work is in a train of execution. The opinion of the Board on this subject, with a plan of all the works necessary to a general system of defense so far as it has been formed, will be laid before Congress in a report from the proper department as soon as it can be prepared. In conformity with the appropriations of the last session, treaties have been formed with the Quapaw tribe of Indians, inhabiting the country on the Arkansaw, and the Great and Little Osages north of the White River; with the tribes in the State of Indiana; with the several tribes within the State of Ohio and the Michigan Territory, and with the Chickasaws, by which very extensive cessions of territory have been made to the United States. Negotiations are now depending with the tribes in the Illinois Territory and with the Choctaws, by which it is expected that other extensive cessions will be made. I take great interest in stating that the cessions already made, which are considered so important to the United States, have been obtained on conditions very satisfactory to the Indians. With a view to the security of our inland frontiers, it has been thought expedient to establish strong posts at the mouth of Yellow Stone River and at the Mandan village on the Missouri, and at the mouth of St. Peters on the Mississippi, at no great distance from our northern boundaries. It can hardly be presumed while such posts are maintained in the rear of the Indian tribes that they will venture to attack our peaceable inhabitants. A strong hope is entertained that this measure will likewise be productive of much good to the tribes themselves, especially in promoting the great object of their civilization. Experience has clearly demonstrated that independent savage communities can not long exist within the limits of a civilized population. The progress of the latter has almost invariably terminated in the extinction of the former, especially of the tribes belonging to our portion of this hemisphere, among whom loftiness of sentiment and gallantry in action have been conspicuous. To civilize them, and even to prevent their extinction, it seems to be indispensable that their independence as communities should cease, and that the control of the United States over them should be complete and undisputed. The hunter state will then be more easily abandoned, and recourse will be had to the acquisition and culture of land and to other pursuits tending to dissolve the ties which connect them together as a savage community and to give a new character to every individual. I present this subject to the consideration of Congress on the presumption that it may be found expedient and practicable to adopt some benevolent provisions, having these objects in view, relative to the tribes within our settlements. It has been necessary during the present year to maintain a strong naval force in the Mediterranean and in the Gulf of Mexico, and to send some public ships along the southern coast and to the Pacific Ocean. By these means amicable relations with the Barbary Powers have been preserved, our commerce has been protected, and our rights respected. The augmentation of our Navy is advancing with a steady progress toward the limit contemplated by law. I communicate with great satisfaction the accession of another State (Illinois) to our Union, because I perceive from the proof afforded by the additions already made the regular progress and sure consummation of a policy of which history affords no example, and of which the good effect can not be too highly estimated. By extending our Government on the principles of our Constitution over the vast territory within our limits, on the Lakes and the Mississippi and its numerous streams, new life and vigor are infused into every part of our system. By increasing the number of the States the confidence of the State governments in their own security is increased and their jealousy of the National Government proportionally diminished. The impracticability of one consolidated Government for this great and growing nation will be more apparent and will be universally admitted. Incapable of exercising local authority except for general purposes, the General Government will no longer be dreaded. In those cases of a local nature and for all the great purposes for which it was instituted its authority will be cherished. Each Government will acquire new force and a greater freedom of action within its proper sphere. Other inestimable advantages will follow. Our produce will be augmented to an incalculable amount in articles of the greatest value for domestic use and foreign commerce. Our navigation will in like degree be increased, and as the shipping of the Atlantic States will be employed in the transportation of the vast produce of the Western country, even those parts of the United States which are most remote from each other will be further bound together by the strongest ties which mutual interest can create. The situation of this District, it is thought, requires the attention of Congress. By the Constitution the power of legislation is exclusively vested in the Congress of the United States. In the exercise of this power, in which the people have no participation, Congress legislate in all cases directly on the local concerns of the District. As this is a departure, for a special purpose, from the general principles of our system, it may merit consideration whether an arrangement better adapted to the principles of our Government and to the particular interests of the people may not be devised which will neither infringe the Constitution nor affect the object which the provision in question was intended to secure. The growing population, already considerable, and the increasing business of the District, which it is believed already interferes with the deliberations of Congress on great national concerns, furnish additional motives for recommending this subject to your consideration. When we view the great blessings with which our country has been favored, those which we now enjoy, and the means which we possess of handing them down unimpaired to our latest posterity, our attention is irresistibly drawn to the source from whence they flow. Let us, then, unite in offering our most grateful acknowledgments for these blessings to the Divine Author of All Good.  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 7, 1819 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: The public buildings being advanced to a stage to afford accommodation for Congress, I offer you my sincere congratulations on the recommencement of your duties in the Capitol. In bringing you to view the incidents most deserving attention which have occurred since your last session, I regret to have to state that several of our principal cities have suffered by sickness, that an unusual drought has prevailed in the Middle and Western States, and that a derangement has been felt in some of our moneyed institutions which has proportionably affected their credit. I am happy, however, to have it in my power to assure you that the health of our cities is now completely restored; that the produce of the year, though less abundant than usual, will not only be amply sufficient for home consumption, but afford a large surplus for the supply of the wants of other nations, and that the derangement in the circulating paper medium, by being left to those remedies which its obvious causes suggested and the good sense and virtue of our fellow citizens supplied, has diminished. Having informed Congress, on the 27th of February last, that a treaty of amity, settlement, and limits had been concluded in this city between the United States and Spain, and ratified by the competent authorities of the former, full confidence was entertained that it would have been ratified by His Catholic Majesty with equal promptitude and a like earnest desire to terminate on the conditions of that treaty the differences which had so long existed between the two countries. Every view which the subject admitted of was thought to have justified this conclusion. Great losses had been sustained by citizens of the United States from Spanish cruisers more than 20 years before, which had not been redressed. These losses had been acknowledged and provided for by a treaty as far back as the year 1802, which, although concluded at Madrid, was not then ratified by the Government of Spain, nor since, until the last year, when it was suspended by the late treaty, a more satisfactory provision to both parties, as was presumed, having been made for them. Other differences had arisen in this long interval, affecting their highest interests, which were likewise provided for by this last treaty. The treaty itself was formed on great consideration and a thorough knowledge of all circumstances, the subject matter of every article having been for years under discussion and repeated references having been made by the minister of Spain to his Government on the points respecting which the greatest difference of opinion prevailed. It was formed by a minister duly authorized for the purpose, who had represented his Government in the United States and been employed in this longprotracted negotiation several years, and who, it is not denied, kept strictly within the letter of his instructions. The faith of Spain was therefore pledged, under circumstances of peculiar force and solemnity, for its ratification. On the part of the United States this treaty was evidently acceded to in a spirit of conciliation and concession. The indemnity for injuries and losses so long before sustained, and now again acknowledged and provided for, was to be paid by them without becoming a charge on the treasury of Spain. For territory ceded by Spain other territory of great value, to which our claim was believed to be well founded, was ceded by the United States, and in a quarter more interesting to her. This cession was nevertheless received as the means of indemnifying our citizens in a considerable sum, the presumed amount of their losses. Other considerations of great weight urged the cession of this territory by Spain. It was surrounded by the Territories of the United States on every side except on that of the ocean. Spain had lost her authority over it, and, falling into the hands of adventurers connected with the savages, it was made the means of unceasing annoyance and injury to our Union in many of its most essential interests. By this cession, then, Spain ceded a territory in reality of no value to her and obtained concessions of the highest importance by the settlement of longstanding differences with the United States affecting their respective claims and limits, and likewise relieved herself from the obligation of a treaty relating to it which she had failed to fulfill, and also from the responsibility incident to the most flagrant and pernicious abuses of her rights where she could not support her authority. It being known that the treaty was formed under these circumstances, not a doubt was entertained that His Catholic Majesty would have ratified it without delay. I regret to have to state that this reasonable expectation has been disappointed; that the treaty was not ratified within the time stipulated and has not since been ratified. As it is important that the nature and character of this unexpected occurrence should be distinctly understood, I think it my duty to communicate to you all the facts and circumstances in my possession relating to it. Anxious to prevent all future disagreement with Spain by giving the most prompt effect to the treaty which had been thus concluded, and particularly by the establishment of a Government in Florida which should preserve order there, the minister of the United States who had been recently appointed to His Catholic Majesty, and to whom the ratification by his Government had been committed to be exchanged for that of Spain, was instructed to transmit the latter to the Department of State as soon as obtained, by a public ship subjected to his order for the purpose. Unexpected delay occurring in the ratification by Spain, he requested to be informed of the cause. It was stated in reply that the great importance of the subject, and a desire to obtain explanations on certain points which were not specified, had produced the delay, and that an envoy would be dispatched to the United States to obtain such explanations of this Government. The minister of the United States offered to give full explanation on any point on which it might be desired, which proposal was declined. Having communicated this result to the Department of State in August last, he was instructed, notwithstanding the disappointment and surprise which it produced, to inform the Government of Spain that if the treaty should be ratified and transmitted here at any time before the meeting of Congress it would be received and have the same effect as if it had been ratified in due time. This order was executed, the authorized communication was made to the Government of Spain, and by its answer, which has just been received, we are officially made acquainted for the first time with the causes which have prevented the ratification of the treaty by His Catholic Majesty. It is alleged by the minister of Spain that his Government had attempted to alter one of the principal articles of the treaty by a declaration which the minister of the United States had been ordered to present when he should deliver the ratification by his Government in exchange for that of Spain, and of which he gave notice, explanatory of the sense in which that article was understood. It is further alleged that this Government had recently tolerated or protected an expedition from the United States against the Province of Texas. These two imputed acts are stated as the reasons which have induced His Catholic Majesty to withhold his ratification from the treaty, to obtain explanations respecting which it is repeated that an envoy would be forthwith dispatched to the United States. How far these allegations will justify the conduct of the Government of Spain will appear on a view of the following facts and the evidence which supports them: It will be seen by the documents transmitted herewith that the declaration mentioned relates to a clause in the 8th article concerning certain grants of land recently made by His Catholic Majesty in Florida, which it was understood had conveyed all the lands which until then had been ungranted; it was the intention of the parties to annul these latter grants, and that clause was drawn for that express purpose and for none other. The date of these grants was unknown, but it was understood to be posterior to that inserted in the article; indeed, it must be obvious to all that if that provision in the treaty had not the effect of annulling these grants, it would be altogether nugatory. Immediately after the treaty was concluded and ratified by this Government an intimation was received that these grants were of anterior date to that fixed on by the treaty and that they would not, of course, be affected by it. The mere possibility of such a case, so inconsistent with the intention of the parties and the meaning of the article, induced this Government to demand an explanation on the subject, which was immediately granted, and which corresponds with this statement. With regard to the other act alleged, that this Government had tolerated or protected an expedition against Texas, it is utterly without foundation. Every discountenance has invariably been given to any such attempt within the limits of the United States, as is fully evinced by the acts of the Government and the proceedings of the courts. There being cause, however, to apprehend, in the course of the last summer, that some adventurers entertained views of the kind suggested, the attention of the constituted authorities in that quarter was immediately drawn to them, and it is known that the project, whatever it might be, has utterly failed. These facts will, it is presumed, satisfy every impartial mind that the Government of Spain had no justifiable cause for declining to ratify the treaty. A treaty concluded in conformity with instructions is obligatory, in good faith, in all its stipulations, according to the true intent and meaning of the parties. Each party is bound to ratify it. If either could set it aside without the consent of the other, there would be no longer any rules applicable to such transactions between nations. By this proceeding the Government of Spain has rendered to the United States a new and very serious injury. It has been stated that a minister would be sent to ask certain explanations of this Government; but if such were desired, why were they not asked within the time limited for the ratification? Is it contemplated to open a new negotiation respecting any of the articles or conditions of the treaty? If that were done, to what consequences might it not lead? At what time and in what manner would a new negotiation terminate? By this proceeding Spain has formed a relation between the two countries which will justify any measures on the part of the United States which a strong sense of injury and a proper regard for the rights and interests of the nation may dictate. In the course to be pursued these objects should be constantly held in view and have their due weight. Our national honor must be maintained, and a new and a distinguished proof be afforded of that regard for justice and moderation which has invariably governed the councils of this free people. It must be obvious to all that if the United States had been desirous of making conquests, or had been even willing to aggrandize themselves in that way, they could have had no inducement to form this treaty. They would have much cause for gratulation at the course which has been pursued by Spain. An ample field for ambition is open before them, but such a career is not consistent with the principles of their Government nor the interests of the nation. From a full view of all circumstances, it is submitted to the consideration of Congress whether it will not be proper for the United States to carry the conditions of the treaty into effect in the same manner as if it had been ratified by Spain, claiming on their part all its advantages and yielding to Spain those secured to her. By pursuing this course we shall rest on the sacred ground of right, sanctioned in the most solemn manner by Spain herself by a treaty which she was bound to ratify, for refusing to do which she must incur the censure of other nations, even those most friendly to her, while by confining ourselves within that limit we can not fail to obtain their wellmerited approbation. We must have peace on a frontier where we have been so long disturbed; our citizens must be indemnified for losses so long since sustained, and for which indemnity has been so unjustly withheld from them. Accomplishing these great objects, we obtain all that is desirable. But His Catholic Majesty has twice declared his determination to send a minister to the United States to ask explanations on certain points and to give them respecting his delay to ratify the treaty. Shall we act by taking the ceded territory and proceeding to execute the other conditions of the treaty before this minister arrives and is heard? This is a case which forms a strong appeal to the candor, the magnanimity, and the honor of this people. Much is due to courtesy between nations. By a short delay we shall lose nothing, for, resting on the ground of immutable truth and justice, we can not be diverted from our purpose. It ought to be presumed that the explanations which may be given to the minister of Spain will be satisfactory, and produce the desired result. In any event, the delay for the purpose mentioned, being a further manifestation of the sincere desire to terminate in the most friendly manner all differences with Spain, can not fail to be duly appreciated by His Catholic Majesty as well as by other powers. It is submitted, therefore, whether it will not be proper to make the law proposed for carrying the conditions of the treaty into effect, should it be adopted, contingent; to suspend its operation, upon the responsibility of the Executive, in such manner as to afford an opportunity for such friendly explanations as may be desired during the present session of Congress. I communicate to Congress a copy of the treaty and of the instructions to the minister of the United States at Madrid respecting it; of his correspondence with the minister of Spain, and of such other documents as may be necessary to give a full view of the subject. In the course which the Spanish Government have on this occasion thought proper to pursue it is satisfactory to know that they have not been countenanced by any other European power. On the contrary, the opinion and wishes both of France and Great Britain have not been withheld either from the United States or from Spain, and have been unequivocal in favor of the ratification. There is also reason to believe that the sentiments of the Imperial Government of Russia have been the same, and that they have also been made known to the cabinet of Madrid. In the civil war existing between Spain and the Spanish Provinces in this hemisphere the greatest care has been taken to enforce the laws intended to preserve an impartial neutrality. Our ports have continued to be equally open to both parties and on the same conditions, and our citizens have been equally restrained from interfering in favor of either to the prejudice of the other. The progress of the war, however has operated manifestly in favor of the colonies. Buenos Ayres still maintains unshaken the independence which it declared in 1816, and has enjoyed since 1810. Like success has also lately attended Chili and the Provinces north of the La Plata bordering on it, and likewise Venezuela. This contest has from its commencement been very interesting to other powers, and to none more so than to the United States. A virtuous people may and will confine themselves within the limit of a strict neutrality; but it is not in their power to behold a conflict so vitally important to their neighbors without the sensibility and sympathy which naturally belong to such a case. It has been the steady purpose of this Government to prevent that feeling leading to excess, and it is very gratifying to have it in my power to state that so strong has been the sense throughout the whole community of what was due to the character and obligations of the nation that very few examples of a contrary kind have occurred. The distance of the colonies from the parent country and the great extent of their population and resources gave them advantages which it was anticipated at a very early period would be difficult for Spain to surmount. The steadiness, consistency, and success with which they have pursued their object, as evinced more particularly by the undisturbed sovereignty which Buenos Ayres has so long enjoyed, evidently give them a strong claim to the favorable consideration of other nations. These sentiments on the part of the United States have not been withheld from other powers, with whom it is desirable to act in concert. Should it become manifest to the world that the efforts of Spain to subdue these Provinces will be fruitless, it may be presumed that the Spanish Government itself will give up the contest. In producing such a determination it can not be doubted that the opinion of friendly powers who have taken no part in the controversy will have their merited influence. It is of the highest importance to our national character and indispensable to the morality of our citizens that all violations of our neutrality should be prevented. No door should be left open for the evasion of our laws, no opportunity afforded to any who may be disposed to take advantage of it to compromit the interest or the honor of the nation. It is submitted, therefore, to the consideration of Congress whether it may not be advisable to revise the laws with a view to this desirable result. It is submitted also whether it may not be proper to designate by law the several ports or places along the coast at which only foreign ships of war and privateers may be admitted. The difficulty of sustaining the regulations of our commerce and of other important interests from abuse without such designation furnishes a strong motive for this measure. At the time of the negotiation for the renewal of the commercial convention between the United States and Great Britain a hope had been entertained that an article might have been agreed upon mutually satisfactory to both countries, regulating upon principles of justice and reciprocity the commercial intercourse between the United States and the British possessions as well in the West Indies as upon the continent of North America. The plenipotentiaries of the two Governments not having been able to come to an agreement on this important interest, those of the United States reserved for the consideration of this Government the proposals which had been presented to them as the ultimate offer on the part of the British Government, and which they were not authorized to accept. On their transmission here they were examined with due deliberation, the result of which was a new effort to meet the views of the British Government. The minister of the United States was instructed to make a further proposal, which has not been accepted. It was, however, declined in an amicable manner. I recommend to the consideration of Congress whether further prohibitory provisions in the laws relating to this intercourse may not be expedient. It is seen with interest that although it has not been practicable as yet to agree in any arrangement of this important branch of their commerce, such is the disposition of the parties that each will view any regulations which the other may make respecting it in the most friendly light. By the 5th article of the convention concluded on October 20th, 1818, it was stipulated that the differences which have arisen between the two Governments with respect to the true intent and meaning of the 5th article of the treaty of Ghent, in relation to the carrying away by British officers of slaves from the United States after the exchange of the ratifications of the treaty of peace, should be referred to the decision of some friendly sovereign or state to be named for that purpose. The minister of the United States has been instructed to name to the British Government a foreign sovereign, the common friend to both parties, for the decision of this question. The answer of that Government to the proposal when received will indicate the further measures to be pursued on the part of the United States. Although the pecuniary embarrassments which affected various parts of the Union during the latter part of the preceding year have during the present been considerably augmented, and still continue to exist, the receipts into the Treasury to the 30th of September last have amounted to 19 millions. After defraying the current expenses of the Government, including the Interest and reimbursement of the public debt payable to that period, amounting to 18.2 millions, there remained in the Treasury on that day more than 2.5 millions, which, with the sums receivable during the remainder of the year, will exceed the current demands upon the Treasury for the same period. The causes which have tended to diminish the public receipts could not fail to have a corresponding effect upon the revenue which has accrued upon imposts and tonnage during the three first quarters of the present year. It is, however, ascertained that the duties which have been secured during that period exceed 18 millions, and those of the whole year will probably amount to 23 millions. For the probable receipts of the next year I refer you to the statements which will be transmitted from the Treasury, which will enable you to judge whether further provision be necessary. The great reduction in the price of the principal articles of domestic growth which has occurred during the present year, and the consequent fall in the price of labor, apparently so favorable to the success of domestic manufactures, have not shielded them against other causes adverse to their prosperity. The pecuniary embarrassments which have so deeply affected the commercial interests of the nation have been no less adverse to our manufacturing establishments in several sections of the Union. The great reduction of the currency which the banks have been constrained to make in order to continue specie payments, and the vitiated character of it where such reductions have not been attempted, instead of placing within the reach of these establishments the pecuniary aid necessary to avail themselves of the advantages resulting from the reduction in the prices of the raw materials and of labor, have compelled the banks to withdraw from them a portion of the capital heretofore advanced to them. That aid which has been refused by the banks has not been obtained from other sources, owing to the loss of individual confidence from the frequent failures which have recently occurred in some of our principal commercial cities. An additional cause for the depression of these establishments may probably be found in the pecuniary embarrassments which have recently affected those countries with which our commerce has been principally prosecuted. Their manufactures, for the want of a ready or profitable market at home, have been shipped by the manufacturers to the United States, and in many instances sold at a price below their current value at the place of manufacture. Although this practice may from its nature be considered temporary or contingent, it is not on that account less injurious in its effects. Uniformity in the demand and price of an article is highly desirable to the domestic manufacturer. It is deemed of great importance to give encouragement to our domestic manufacturers. In what manner the evils which have been adverted to may be remedied, and how far it may be practicable in other respects to afford to them further encouragement, paying due regard to the other great interests of the nation, is submitted to the wisdom of Congress. The survey of the coast for the establishment of fortifications is now nearly completed, and considerable progress has been made in the collection of materials for the construction of fortifications in the Gulf of Mexico and in the Chesapeake Bay. The works on the eastern bank of the Potomac below Alexandria and on the Pea Patch, in the Delaware, are much advanced, and it is expected that the fortifications at the Narrows, in the harbor of New York, will be completed the present year. To derive all the advantages contemplated from these fortifications it was necessary that they should be judiciously posted, and constructed with a view to permanence. The progress hitherto has therefore been slow; but as the difficulties in parts heretofore the least explored and known are surmounted, it will in future be more rapid. As soon as the survey of the coast is completed, which it is expected will be done early in the next spring, the engineers employed in it will proceed to examine for like purposes the northern and northwestern frontiers. The troops intended to occupy a station at the mouth of the St. Peters, on the Mississippi, have established themselves there, and those who were ordered to the mouth of the Yellow Stone, on the Missouri, have ascended that river to the Council Bluff, where they will remain until the next spring, when they will proceed to the place of their destination. I have the satisfaction to state that this measure has been executed in amity with the Indian tribes, and that it promises to produce, in regard to them, all the advantages which were contemplated by it. Much progress has likewise been made in the construction of ships of war and in the collection of timber and other materials for ship building. It is not doubted that our Navy will soon be augmented to the number and placed in all respects on the footing provided for by law. The Board, consisting of engineers and naval officers, have not yet made their final report of sites for two naval depots, as instructed according to the resolutions of March 18th, 1818 and April 20th, 1818, but they have examined the coast therein designated, and their report is expected in the next month. For the protection of our commerce in the Mediterranean, along the southern Atlantic coast, in the Pacific and Indian oceans, it has been found necessary to maintain a strong naval force, which it seems proper for the present to continue. There is much reason to believe that if any portion of the squadron heretofore stationed in the Mediterranean should be withdrawn our intercourse with the powers bordering on that sea would be much interrupted, if not altogether destroyed. Such, too, has been the growth of a spirit of piracy in the other quarters mentioned, by adventurers from every country, in abuse of the friendly flags which they have assumed, that not to protect our commerce there would be to abandon it as a prey to their rapacity. Due attention has likewise been paid to the suppression of the slave trade, in compliance with a law of the last session. Orders have been given to the commanders of all our public ships to seize all vessels navigated under our flag engaged in that trade, and to bring them in to be proceeded against in the manner prescribed by the law. It is hoped that these vigorous measures, supported by like acts by other nations, will soon terminate a commerce so disgraceful to the civilized world. In the execution of the duty imposed by these acts, and of a high trust connected with it, it is with deep regret I have to state the loss which has been sustained by the death of Commodore Perry. His gallantry in a brilliant exploit in the late war added to the renown of his country. His death is deplored as a national misfortune.  State of the Union Address James Monroe November 14, 1820 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In communicating to you a just view of public affairs at the commencement of your present labors, I do it with great satisfaction, because, taking all circumstances into consideration which claim attention, I see much cause to rejoice in the felicity of our situation. In making this remark I do not wish to be understood to imply that an unvaried prosperity is to be seen in every interest of this great community. In the progress of a nation inhabiting a territory of such vast extent and great variety of climate, every portion of which is engaged in foreign commerce and liable to be affected in some degree by the changes which occur in the condition and regulations of foreign countries, it would be strange if the produce of our soil and the industry and enterprise of our fellow citizens received at all times and in every quarter an uniform and equal encouragement. This would be more than we would have a right to expect under circumstances the most favorable. Pressures on certain interests, it is admitted, have been felt; but allowing to these their greatest extent, they detract but little from the force of the remarks already made. In forming a just estimate of our present situation it is proper to look at the whole in the outline as well as in the detail. A free, virtuous, and enlightened people know well the great principles and causes on which their happiness depends, and even those who suffer most occasionally in their transitory concerns find great relief under their sufferings from the blessings which they otherwise enjoy and in the consoling and animating hope which they administer. From whence do these pressures come? Not from a Government which is founded by, administered for, and supported by the people. We trace them to the peculiar character of the epoch in which we live, and to the extraordinary occurrences which have signalized it. The convulsions with which several of the powers of Europe have been shaken and the long and destructive wars in which all were engaged, with their sudden transition to a state of peace, presenting in the first instance unusual encouragement to our commerce and withdrawing it in the second even within its wonted limit, could not fail to be sensibly felt here. The station, too, which we had to support through this long conflict, compelled as we were finally to become a party to it with a principal power, and to make great exertions, suffer heavy losses, and to contract considerable debts, disturbing the ordinary course of affairs by augmenting to a vast amount the circulating medium, and thereby elevating at one time the price of every article above a just standard and depressing it at another below it, had likewise its due effect. It is manifest that the pressures of which we complain have proceeded in a great measure from these causes. When, then, we take into view the prosperous and happy condition of our country in all the great circumstances which constitute the felicity of a nationevery individual in the full enjoyment of all his rights, the Union blessed with plenty and rapidly rising to greatness under a National Government which operates with complete effect in every part without being felt in any except by the ample protection which it affords, and under State governments which perform their equal share, according to a wise distribution of power between them, in promoting the public happinessit is impossible to behold so gratifying, so glorious a spectacle without being penetrated with the most profound and grateful acknowledgments to the Supreme Author of All Good for such manifold and inestimable blessings. Deeply impressed with these sentiments, I can not regard the pressures to which I have adverted otherwise than in the light of mild and instructive admonitions, warning us of dangers to be shunned in future, teaching us lessons of economy corresponding with the simplicity and purity of our institutions and best adapted to their support, evincing the connection and dependence which the various parts of our happy Union have on each other, thereby augmenting daily our social incorporation and adding by its strong ties new strength and vigor to the political; opening a wider range, and with new encouragement, to the industry and enterprise of our fellow citizens at home and abroad, and more especially by the multiplied proofs which it has accumulated of the great perfection of our most excellent system of Government, the powerful instrument in the hands of our Allmerciful Creator in securing to us these blessings. Happy as our situation is, it does not exempt us from solicitude and care for the future. On the contrary, as the blessings which we enjoy are great, proportionably great should be our vigilance, zeal, and activity to preserve them. Foreign wars may again expose us to new wrongs, which would impose on us new duties for which we ought to be prepared. The state of Europe is unsettled, and how long peace may be preserved is altogether uncertain; in addition to which we have interests of our own to adjust which will require particular attention. A correct view of our relations with each power will enable you to form a just idea of existing difficulties, and of the measures of precaution best adapted to them. Respecting our relations with Spain nothing explicit can now be communicated. On the adjournment of Congress in May last the minister plenipotentiary of the United States at Madrid was instructed to inform the Government of Spain that if His Catholic Majesty should then ratify the treaty this Government would accept the ratification so far as to submit to the decision of the Senate the question whether such ratification should be received in exchange for that of the United States heretofore given. By letters from the minister of the United States to the Secretary of State it appears that a communication in conformity with his instructions had been made to the Government of Spain, and that the Cortes had the subject under consideration. The result of the deliberations of that body, which is daily expected, will be made known to Congress as soon as it is received. The friendly sentiment which was expressed on the part of the United States in the message of the 9th of May last is still entertained for Spain. Among the causes of regret, however, which are inseparable from the delay attending this transaction it is proper to state that satisfactory information has been received that measures have been recently adopted by designing persons to convert certain parts of the Province of East Florida into depots for the reception of foreign goods, from whence to smuggle them into the United States. By opening a port within the limits of Florida, immediately on our boundary where there was no settlement, the object could not be misunderstood. An early accommodation of differences will, it is hoped, prevent all such fraudulent and pernicious practices, and place the relations of the two countries on a very amicable and permanent basis. The commercial relations between the United States and the British colonies in the West Indies and on this continent have undergone no change, the British Government still preferring to leave that commerce under the restriction heretofore imposed on it on each side. It is satisfactory to recollect that the restraints resorted to by the United States were defensive only, intended to prevent a monopoly under British regulations in favor of Great Britain, as it likewise is to know that the experiment is advancing in a spirit of amity between the parties. The question depending between the United States and Great Britain respecting the construction of the first article of the treaty of Ghent has been referred by both Governments to the decision of the Emperor of Russia, who has accepted the umpirage. An attempt has been made with the Government of France to regulate by treaty the commerce between the two countries on the principle of reciprocity and equality. By the last communication from the minister plenipotentiary of the United States at Paris, to whom full power had been given, we learn that the negotiation has been commenced there; but serious difficulties having occurred, the French Government had resolved to transfer it to the United States, for which purpose the minister plenipotentiary of France had been ordered to repair to this city, and whose arrival might soon be expected. It is hoped that this important interest may be arranged on just conditions and in a manner equally satisfactory to both parties. It is submitted to Congress to decide, until such arrangement is made, how far it may be proper, on the principle of the act of the last session which augmented the tonnage duty on French vessels, to adopt other measures for carrying more completely into effect the policy of that act. The act referred to, which imposed new tonnage on French vessels, having been in force from and after the first day of July, it has happened that several vessels of that nation which had been dispatched from France before its existence was known have entered the ports of the United States, and been subject to its operation, without that previous notice which the general spirit of our laws gives to individuals in similar cases. The object of that law having been merely to countervail the inequalities which existed to the disadvantage of the United States in their commercial intercourse with France, it is submitted also to the consideration of Congress whether, in the spirit of amity and conciliation which it is no less the inclination than the policy of the United States to preserve in their intercourse with other powers, it may not be proper to extend relief to the individuals interested in those cases by exempting from the operation of the law all those vessels which have entered our ports without having had the means of previously knowing the existence of the additional duty. The contest between Spain and the colonies, according to the most authentic information, is maintained by the latter with improved success. The unfortunate divisions which were known to exist some time since at Buenos Ayres it is understood still prevail. In no part of South America has Spain made any impression on the colonies, while in many parts, and particularly in Venezuela and New Grenada, the colonies have gained strength and acquired reputation, both for the management of the war in which they have been successful and for the order of the internal administration. The late change in the Government of Spain, by the reestablishment of the constitution of 1812, is an event which promises to be favorable to the revolution. Under the authority of the Cortes the Congress of Angostura was invited to open a negotiation for the settlement of differences between the parties, to which it was replied that they would willingly open the negotiation provided the acknowledgment of their independence was made its basis, but not otherwise. No facts are known to this Government to warrant the belief that any of the powers of Europe will take part in the contest, whence it may be inferred, considering all circumstances which must have weight in producing the result, that an adjustment will finally take place on the basis proposed by the colonies. To promote that result by friendly counsels with other powers, including Spain herself, has been the uniform policy of this Government. In looking to the internal concerns of our country you will, I am persuaded, derive much satisfaction from a view of the several objects to which, in the discharge of your official duties, your attention will be drawn. Among these none holds a more important place than the public revenue, from the direct operation of the power by which it is raised on the people, and by its influence in giving effect to every other power of the Government. The revenue depends on the resources of the country, and the facility by which the amount required is raised is a strong proof of the extent of the resources and of the efficiency of the Government. A few prominent facts will place this great interest in a just light before you. On September 30th, 1815, the funded and floating debt of the United States was estimated at 119,635,558. If to this sum be added the amount of 5 stock subscribed to the Bank of the United States, the amount of Mississippi stock and of the stock which was issued subsequently to that date, and as afterwards liquidated, to 158,713,049. On September 30th, 1820, it amounted to 91,993,883, having been reduced in that interval by payments 66,879,165. During this term the expenses of the Government of the United States were likewise defrayed in every branch of the civil, military, and naval establishments; the public edifices in this city have been rebuilt with considerable additions; extensive fortifications have been commenced, and are in a train of execution; permanent arsenals and magazines have been erected in various parts of the Union; our Navy has been considerably augmented, and the ordnance, munitions of war, and stores of the Army and Navy, which were much exhausted during the war, have been replenished. By the discharge of so large a proportion of the public debt and the execution of such extensive and important operations in so short a time a just estimate may be formed of the great extent of our national resources. The demonstration is the more complete and gratifying when it is recollected that the direct tax and excise were repealed soon after the termination of the late war, and that the revenue applied to these purposes has been derived almost wholly from other sources. The receipts into the Treasury from every source to the 30th of September last have amounted to 16,794,107.66, whilst the public expenditures to the same period amounted to 16,871,534.72, leaving in the Treasury on that day a sum estimated at 1.95 millions. For the probable receipts of the following year I refer you to the statement which will be transmitted from the Treasury. The sum of 3 millions authorized to be raised by loan by an act of the last session of Congress has been obtained upon terms advantageous to the Government, indicating not only an increased confidence in the faith of the nation, but the existence of a large amount of capital seeking that mode of investment at a rate of interest not exceeding 5 per annum. It is proper to add that there is now due to the Treasury for the sale of public lands 22,996,545. In bringing this subject to view I consider it my duty to submit to Congress whether it may not be advisable to extend to the purchasers of these lands, in consideration of the unfavorable change which has occurred since the sales, a reasonable indulgence. It is known that the purchases were made when the price of every article had risen to its greatest height, and the installments are becoming due at a period of great depression. It is presumed that some plan may be devised by the wisdom of Congress, compatible with the public interest, which would afford great relief to these purchasers. Considerable progress has been made during the present season in examining the coast and its various bays and other inlets, in the collection of materials, and in the construction of fortifications for the defense of the Union at several of the positions at which it has been decided to erect such works. At Mobile Point and Dauphin Island, and at the Rigolets, leading to Lake Pontchartrain, materials to a considerable amount have been collected, and all the necessary preparations made for the commencement of the works. At Old Point Comfort, at the mouth of the James River, and at the RipRap, on the opposite shore in the Chesapeake Bay, materials to a vast amount have been collected; and at the Old Point some progress has been made in the construction of the fortification, which is on a very extensive scale. The work at Fort Washington, on this river, will be completed early in the next spring, and that on the Pea Patch, in the Delaware, in the course of the next season. Fort Diamond, at the Narrows, in the harbor of New York, will be finished this year. The works at Boston, New York, Baltimore, Norfolk, Charleston, and Niagara have been in part repaired, and the coast of North Carolina, extending south to Cape Fear, has been examined, as have likewise other parts of the coast eastward of Boston. Great exertions have been made to push forward these works with the utmost dispatch possible; but when their extent is considered, with the important purposes for which they are intendedthe defense of the whole coast, and, in consequence, of the whole interiorand that they are to last for ages, it will be manifest that a welldigested plan, founded on military principles, connecting the whole together, combining security with economy, could not be prepared without repeated examinations of the most exposed and difficult parts, and that it would also take considerable time to collect the materials at the several points where they would be required. From all the light that has been shed on this subject I am satisfied that every favorable anticipation which has been formed of this great undertaking will be verified, and that when completed it will afford very great if not complete protection to our Atlantic frontier in the event of another warprotection sufficient to counterbalance in a single campaign with an enemy powerful at sea the expense of all these works, without taking into the estimate the saving of the lives of so many of our citizens, the protection of our towns and other property, or the tendency of such works to prevent war. Our military positions have been maintained at Belle Point, on the Arkansas, at Council Bluffs, on the Missouri, at St. Peters, on the Mississippi, and at Green Bay, on the upper Lakes. Commodious barracks have already been erected at most of these posts, with such works as were necessary for their defense. Progress has also been made in opening communications between them and in raising supplies at each for the support of the troops by their own labor, particularly those most remote. With the Indians peace has been preserved and a progress made in carrying into effect the act of Congress making an appropriation for their civilization, with the prospect of favorable results. As connected equally with both these objects, our trade with those tribes is thought to merit the attention of Congress. In their original state game is their sustenance and war their occupation, and if they find no employment from civilized powers they destroy each other. Left to themselves their extirpation is inevitable. By a judicious regulation of our trade with them we supply their wants, administer to their comforts, and gradually, as the game retires, draw them to us. By maintaining posts far in the interior we acquire a more thorough and direct control over them, without which it is confidently believed that a complete change in their manners can never be accomplished. By such posts, aided by a proper regulation of our trade with them and a judicious civil administration over them, to be provided for by law, we shall, it is presumed, be enabled not only to protect our own settlements from their savage incursions and preserve peace among the several tribes, but accomplish also the great purpose of their civilization. Considerable progress has also been made in the construction of ships of war, some of which have been launched in the course of the present year. Our peace with the powers on the coast of Barbary has been preserved, but we owe it altogether to the presence of our squadron in the Mediterranean. It has been found equally necessary to employ some of our vessels for the protection of our commerce in the Indian Sea, the Pacific, and along the Atlantic coast. The interests which we have depending in those quarters, which have been much improved of late, are of great extent and of high importance to the nation as well as to the parties concerned, and would undoubtedly suffer if such protection was not extended to them. In execution of the law of the last session for the suppression of the slave trade some of our public ships have also been employed on the coast of Africa, where several captures have already been made of vessels engaged in that disgraceful traffic.  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 3, 1821 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: The progress of our affairs since the last session has been such as may justly be claimed and expected under a Government deriving all its powers from an enlightened people, and under laws formed by their representatives, on great consideration, for the sole purpose of promoting the welfare and happiness of their constituents. In the execution of those laws and of the powers vested by the Constitution in the Executive, unremitted attention has been paid to the great objects to which they extend. In the concerns which are exclusively internal there is good cause to be satisfied with the result. The laws have had their due operation and effect. In those relating to foreign powers, I am happy to state that peace and amity are preserved with all by a strict observance on both sides of the rights of each. In matters touching our commercial intercourse, where a difference of opinion has existed as to the conditions on which it should be placed, each party has pursued its own policy without giving just cause of offense to the other. In this annual communication, especially when it is addressed to a new Congress, the whole scope of our political concerns naturally comes into view, that errors, if such have been committed, may be corrected; that defects which have become manifest may be remedied; and, on the other hand, that measures which were adopted on due deliberation, and which experience has shewn are just in themselves and essential to the public welfare, should be persevered in and supported. In performing this necessary and very important duty I shall endeavor to place before you on its merits every subject that is thought to be entitled to your particular attention in as distinct and clear a light as I may be able. By an act of March 3rd, 1815, so much of the several acts as imposed higher duties on the tonnage of foreign vessels and on the manufactures and productions of foreign nations when imported into the United States in foreign vessels than when imported in vessels of the United States were repealed so far as respected the manufactures and productions of the nation to which such vessels belonged, on the condition that the repeal should take effect only in favor of any foreign nation when the Executive should be satisfied that such discriminating duties to the disadvantage of the United States had likewise been repealed by such nation. By this act a proposition was made to all nations to place our commerce with each on a basis which it was presumed would be acceptable to all. Every nation was allowed to bring its manufactures and productions into our ports and to take the manufactures and productions of the United States back to their ports in their own vessels on the same conditions that they might be transported in vessels of the United States, and in return it was required that a like accommodation should be granted to the vessels of the United States in the ports of other powers. The articles to be admitted or prohibited on either side formed no part of the proposed arrangement. Each party would retain the right to admit or prohibit such articles from the other as it thought proper, and on its own conditions. When the nature of the commerce between the United States and every other country was taken into view, it was thought that this proposition would be considered fair, and even liberal, by every power. The exports of the United States consist generally of articles of the first necessity and of rude materials in demand for foreign manufactories, of great bulk, requiring for their transportation many vessels, the return for which in the manufactures and productions of any foreign country, even when disposed of there to advantage, may be brought in a single vessel. This observation is the more especially applicable to those countries from which manufactures alone are imported, but it applies in great extent to the European dominions of every European power and in a certain extent to all the colonies of those powers. By placing, then, the navigation precisely on the same ground in the transportation of exports and imports between the United States and other countries it was presumed that all was offered which could be desired. It seemed to be the only proposition which could be devised which would retain even the semblance of equality in our favor. Many considerations of great weight gave us a right to expect that this commerce should be extended to the colonies as well as to the European dominions of other powers. With the latter, especially with countries exclusively manufacturing, the advantage was manifestly on their side. An indemnity for that loss was expected from a trade with the colonies, and with the greater reason as it was known that the supplies which the colonies derived from us were of the highest importance to them, their labor being bestowed with so much greater profit in the culture of other articles; and because, likewise, the articles of which those supplies consisted, forming so large a proportion of the exports of the United States, were never admitted into any of the ports of Europe except in cases of great emergency to avert a serious calamity. When no article is admitted which is not required to supply the wants of the party admitting it, and admitted then not in favor of any particular country to the disadvantage of others, but on conditions equally applicable to all, it seems just that the articles thus admitted and invited should be carried thither in the vessels of the country affording such supply and that the reciprocity should be found in a corresponding accommodation on the other side. By allowing each party to participate in the transportation of such supplies on the payment of equal tonnage a strong proof was afforded of an accommodating spirit. To abandon to it the transportation of the whole would be a sacrifice which ought not to be expected. The demand in the present instance would be the more unreasonable in consideration of the great inequality existing in the trade with the parent country. Such was the basis of our system as established by the act of 1815 and such its true character. In the year in which this act was passed a treaty was concluded with Great Britain, in strict conformity with its principles, in regard to her European dominions. To her colonies, however, in the West Indies and on this continent it was not extended, the British Government claiming the exclusive supply of those colonies, and from our own ports, and of the productions of the colonies in return in her own vessels. To this claim the United States could not assent, and in consequence each party suspended the intercourse in the vessels of the other by a prohibition which still exists. The same conditions were offered to France, but not accepted. Her Government has demanded other conditions more favorable to her navigation, and which should also give extraordinary encouragement to her manufactures and productions in ports of the United States. To these it was thought improper to accede, and in consequence the restrictive regulations which had been adopted on her part, being countervailed on the part of the United States, the direct commerce between the two countries in the vessels of each party has been in great measure suspended. It is much to be regretted that, although a negotiation has been long pending, such is the diversity of views entertained on the various points which have been brought into discussion that there does not appear to be any reasonable prospect of its early conclusion. It is my duty to state, as a cause of very great regret, that very serious differences have occurred in this negotiation respecting the construction of the 8th article of the treaty of 1803, by which Louisiana was ceded to the United States, and likewise respecting the seizure of the Apollo, in 1820, for a violation of our revenue laws. The claim of the Government of France has excited not less surprise than concern, because there does not appear to be a just foundation for it in either instance. By the 8th article of the treaty referred to it is stipulated that after the expiration of twelve years, during which time it was provided by the 7th or preceding article that the vessels of France and Spain should be admitted into the ports of the ceded territory without paying higher duties on merchandise or tonnage on the vessels than such as were paid by citizens of the United States, the ships of France should forever afterwards be placed on the footing of the most favored nation. By the obvious construction of this article it is presumed that it was intended that no favor should be granted to any power in those ports to which France should not be forthwith entitled, nor should any accommodation be allowed to another power on conditions to which she would not also be entitled on the same conditions. Under this construction no favor or accommodation could be granted to any power to the prejudice of France. By allowing the equivalent allowed by those powers she would always stand in those ports on the footing of the most favored nation. But if this article should be so construed as that France should enjoy, of right, and without paying the equivalent, all the advantages of such conditions as might be allowed to other powers in return for important concessions made by them, then the whole character of the stipulations would be changed. She would not be placed on the footing of the most favored nation, but on a footing held by no other nation. She would enjoy all advantages allowed to them in consideration of like advantages allowed to us, free from every and any condition whatever. As little cause has the Government of France to complain of the seizure of the Apollo and the removal of other vessels from the waters of the St. Marys. It will not be denied that every nation has a right to regulate its commercial system as it thinks fit and to enforce the collection of its revenue, provided it be done without an invasion of the rights of other powers. The violation of its revenue laws is an offense which all nations punish, the punishment of which gives no just cause of complaint to the power to which the offenders belong, provided it be extended to all equally. In this case every circumstance which occurred indicated a fixed purpose to violate our revenue laws. Had the party intended to have pursued a fair trade he would have entered the port of some other power, landed his goods at the custom house according to law, and reshipped and sent them in the vessel of such power, or of some other power which might lawfully bring them, free from such duties, to a port of the United States. But the conduct of the party in this case was altogether different. He entered the river St. Marys, the boundary line between the United States and Florida, and took his position on the Spanish side, on which in the whole extent of the river there was no town, no port or custom house, and scarcely any settlement. His purpose, therefore, was not to sell his goods to the inhabitants of Florida, but to citizens of the United States, in exchange for their productions, which could not be done without a direct and palpable breach of our laws. It is known that a regular systematic plan had been formed by certain persons for the violation of our revenue system, which made it the more necessary to check the proceeding in its commencement. That the unsettled bank of a river so remote from the Spanish garrisons and population could give no protection to any party in such a practice is believed to be in strict accord with the law of nations. It would not have comported with a friendly policy in Spain herself to have established a custom house there, since it could have subserved no other purpose than to elude our revenue law. But the Government of Spain did not adopt that measure. On the contrary, it is understood that the CaptainGeneral of Cuba, to whom an application to that effect was made by these adventurers, had not acceded to it. The condition of those Provinces for many years before they were ceded to the United States need not now be dwelt on. Inhabited by different tribes of Indians and an inroad for every kind of adventurer, the jurisdiction of Spain may be said to have been almost exclusively confined to her garrisons. It certainly could not extend to places where she had no authority. The rules, therefore, applicable to settled countries governed by laws could not be deemed so to the deserts of Florida and to the occurrences there. It merits attention also that the territory had been ceded to the United States by a treaty the ratification of which had not been refused, and which has since been performed. Under any circumstances, therefore, Spain became less responsible for such acts committed there, and the United States more at liberty to exercise authority to prevent so great a mischief. The conduct of this Government has in every instance been conciliatory and friendly to France. The construction of our revenue law in its application to the cases which have formed the ground of such serious complaint on her part and the order to the collector of St. Marys, in accord with it, were given two years before these cases occurred, and in reference to a breach which was attempted by the subjects of another power. The application, therefore, to the cases in question was inevitable. As soon as the treaty by which these Provinces were ceded to the United States was ratified, and all danger of further breach of our revenue laws ceased, an order was given for the release of the vessel which had been seized and for the dismission of the libel which had been instituted against her. The principles of this system of reciprocity, founded on the law of March 3rd, 1815, have been since carried into effect with the Kingdoms of the Netherlands, Sweden, Prussia, and with Hamburg, Lubeck, and Oldenburg, with a provision made by subsequent laws in regard to the Netherlands, Prussia, Hamburg, and Bremen that such produce and manufactures as could only be, or most usually were, first shipped from the ports of those countries, the same being imported in vessels wholly belonging to their subjects, should be considered and admitted as their own manufactures and productions. The Government of Norway has by an ordinance opened the ports of that part of the dominions of the King of Sweden to the vessels of the United States upon the payment of no other or higher duties than are paid by Norwegian vessels, from whatever place arriving and with whatever articles laden. They have requested the reciprocal allowance for the vessels of Norway in the ports of the United States. As this privilege is not within the scope of the act of March 3rd, 1815, and can only be granted by Congress, and as it may involve the commercial relations of the United States with other nations, the subject is submitted to the wisdom of Congress. I have presented thus fully to your view our commercial relations with other powers, that, seeing them in detail with each power, and knowing the basis on which they rest, Congress may in its wisdom decide whether any change ought to be made, and, if any, in what respect. If this basis is unjust or unreasonable, surely it ought to be abandoned; but if it be just and reasonable, and any change in it will make concessions subversive of equality and tending in its consequences to sap the foundations of our prosperity, then the reasons are equally strong for adhering to the ground already taken, and supporting it by such further regulations as may appear to be proper, should any additional support be found necessary. The question concerning the construction of the first article of the treaty of Ghent has been, by a joint act of the representatives of the United States and of Great Britain at the Court of St. Petersburg, submitted to the decision of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Russia. The result of that submission has not yet been received. The commissioners under the 5th article of that treaty not having been able to agree upon their decision, their reports to the two Governments, according to the provisions of the treaty, may be expected at an early day. With Spain the treaty of February 22nd, 1819, has been partly carried into execution. Possession of East and West Florida has been given to the United States, but the officers charged with that service by an order from His Catholic Majesty, delivered by his minister to the Secretary of State, and transmitted by a special agent to the CaptainGeneral of Cuba, to whom it was directed and in whom the Government of those Provinces was vested, have not only omitted, in contravention of the order of their Sovereign, the performance of the express stipulation to deliver over the archives and documents relating to the property and sovereignty of those Provinces, all of which it was expected would have been delivered either before or when the troops were withdrawn, but defeated since every effort of the United States to obtain them, especially those of the greatest importance. This omission has given rise to several incidents of a painful nature, the character of which will be fully disclosed by the documents which will be hereafter communicated. In every other circumstance of the law of the 3rd of March last, for carrying into effect that treaty, has been duly attended to. For the execution of that part which preserved in force, for the Government of the inhabitants for the term specified, all the civil, military, and judicial powers exercised by the existing Government of those Provinces an adequate number of officers, as was presumed, were appointed, and ordered to their respective stations. Both Provinces were formed into one Territory, and a governor appointed for it; but in consideration of the preexisting division and of the distance and difficulty of communication between Pensacola, the residence of the governor of West Florida, and St. Augustine, that of the governor of East Florida, at which places the inconsiderable population of each Province was principally collected, two secretaries were appointed, the one to reside at Pensacola and the other at St. Augustine. Due attention was likewise paid to the execution of the laws of the United States relating to the revenue and the slave trade, which were extended to these Provinces. The whole Territory was divided into three collection districts, that part lying between the river St. Marys and Cape Florida forming one, that from the Cape to the Apalachicola another, and that from the Apalachicola to the Perdido the third. To these districts the usual number of revenue officers were appointed; and to secure the due operation of these laws one judge and a district attorney were appointed to reside at Pensacola, and likewise one judge and a district attorney to reside at St. Augustine, with a specified boundary between them; and one marshal for the whole, with authority to appoint a deputy. In carrying this law into effect, and especially that part relating to the powers of the existing Government of those Provinces, it was thought important, in consideration of the short term for which it was to operate and the radical change which would be made at the approaching session of Congress, to avoid expense, to make no appointment which should not be absolutely necessary to give effect to those powers, to withdraw none of our citizens from their pursuits, whereby to subject the Government to claims which could not be gratified and the parties to losses which it would be painful to witness. It has been seen with much concern that in the performance of these duties a collision arose between the governor of the Territory and the judge appointed for the western district. It was presumed that the law under which this transitory Government was organized, and the commissions which were granted to the officers who were appointed to execute each branch of the system, and to which the commissions were adapted, would have been understood in the same sense by them in which they were understood by the Executive. Much allowance is due to officers employed in each branch of this system, and the more so as there is good cause to believe that each acted under the conviction that he possessed the power which he undertook to exercise. Of the officer holding the principal station, I think it proper to observe that he accepted it with reluctance, in compliance with the invitation given him, and from a high sense of duty to his country, being willing to contribute to the consummation of an event which would insure complete protection to an important part of our Union, which had suffered much from incursion and invasion, and to the defense of which his very gallant and patriotic services had been so signally and usefully devoted. From the intrinsic difficulty of executing laws deriving their origin from different sources, and so essentially different in many important circumstances, the advantage, and indeed the necessity, of establishing as soon as practicable a wellorganized Government over that Territory on the principles of our system is apparent. This subject is therefore recommended to the early consideration of Congress. In compliance with an injunction of the law of the 3rd of March last, three commissioners have also been appointed and a board organized for carrying into effect the 11th article of the treaty above recited, making provision for the payment of such of our citizens as have wellfounded claims on Spain of the character specified by that treaty. This board has entered on its duties and made some progress therein. The commissioner and surveyor of His Catholic Majesty, provided for by the 4th article of the treaty, have not yet arrived in the United States, but are soon expected. As soon as they do arrive corresponding appointments will be made and every facility be afforded for the due execution of this service. The Government of His Most Faithful Majesty since the termination of the last session of Congress has been removed from Rio de Janeiro to Lisbon, where a revolution similar to that which had occurred in the neighboring Kingdom of Spain had in like manner been sanctioned by the accepted and pledged faith of the reigning monarch. The diplomatic intercourse between the United States and the Portuguese dominions, interrupted by this important event, has not yet been resumed, but the change of internal administration having already materially affected the commercial intercourse of the United States with the Portuguese dominions, the renewal of the public missions between the two countries appears to be desirable at an early day. It is understood that the colonies in South America have had great success during the present year in the struggle for their independence. The new Government of Colombia has extended its territories and considerably augmented its strength, and at Buenos Ayres, where civil dissensions had for some time before prevailed, greater harmony and better order appear to have been established. Equal success has attended their efforts in the Provinces on the Pacific. It has long been manifest that it would be impossible for Spain to reduce these colonies by force, and equally so that no conditions short of their independence would be satisfactory to them. It may therefore be presumed, and it is earnestly hoped, that the Government of Spain, guided by enlightened and liberal councils, will find it to comport with its interests and due to its magnanimity to terminate this exhausting controversy on that basis. To promote this result by friendly counsel with the Government of Spain will be the object of the Government of the United States. In conducting the fiscal operations of the year it has been found necessary to carry into full effect the act of the last session of Congress authorizing a loan of 5 millions. This sum has been raised at an average premium of 5.59 per centum upon stock bearing an interest at the rate of 5 per annum, redeemable at the option of the Government after January 1st, 1835. There has been issued under the provisions of this act 4,735,296.30 of 5 stock, and there has been or will be redeemed during the year 3,197,030.71 of Louisiana 6 deferred stock and Mississippi stock. There has therefore been an actual increase of the public debt contracted during the year of 1,538,266.69. The receipts into the Treasury from the first of January to the 30th of September last have amounted to 16,219,197.70, which, with the balance of 1,198,461.21 in the Treasury on the former day, make the aggregate sum of 17,417,658.91. The payments from the Treasury during the same period have amounted to 15,655,288.47, leaving in the Treasury on the lastmentioned day the sum of 1,762,370.44. It is estimated that the receipts of the 4th quarter of the year will exceed the demands which will be made on the Treasury during the same period, and that the amount in the Treasury on the 30th of September last will be increased on the first day of January next. At the close of the last session it was anticipated that the progressive diminution of the public revenue in 1819 and 1820, which had been the result of the languid state of our foreign commerce in those years, had in the latter year reached its extreme point of depression. It has, however, been ascertained that that point was reached only at the termination of the first quarter of the present year. From that time until the 30th of September last the duties secured have exceeded those of the corresponding quarters of the last year 1.172 millions, whilst the amount of debentures issued during the three first quarters of this year is 952,000 less than that of the same quarters of the last year. There are just grounds to believe that the improvement which has occurred in the revenue during the lastmentioned period will not only be maintained, but that it will progressively increase through the next and several succeeding years, so as to realize the results which were presented upon that subject by the official reports of the Treasury at the commencement of the last session of Congress. Under the influence of the most unfavorable circumstances the revenue for the next and subsequent years to the year 1825 will exceed the demands at present authorized by law. It may fairly be presumed that under the protection given to domestic manufactures by the existing laws we shall become at no distant period a manufacturing country on an extensive scale. Possessing as we do the raw materials in such vast amount, with a capacity to augment them to an indefinite extent; raising within the country aliment of every kind to an amount far exceeding the demand for home consumption, even in the most unfavorable years, and to be obtained always at a very moderate price; skilled also, as our people are, in the mechanic arts and in every improvement calculated to lessen the demand for and the price of labor, it is manifest that their success in every branch of domestic industry may and will be carried, under the encouragement given by the present duties, to an extent to meet any demand which under a fair competition may be made upon it. A considerable increase of domestic manufactures, by diminishing the importation of foreign, will probably tend to lessen the amount of the public revenue. As, however, a large proportion of the revenue which is derived from duties is raised from other articles than manufactures, the demand for which will increase with our population, it is believed that a fund will still be raised from that source adequate to the greater part of the public expenditures, especially as those expenditures, should we continue to be blessed with peace, will be diminished by the completion of the fortifications, dock yards, and other public works, by the augmentation of the Navy to the point to which it is proposed to carry it, and by the payment of the public debt, including pensions for military services. It can not be doubted that the more complete our internal resources and the less dependent we are on foreign powers for every national as well as domestic purpose the greater and more stable will be the public felicity. By the increase of domestic manufactures will the demand for the rude materials at home be increased, and thus will the dependence of the several parts of our Union on each other and the strength of the Union itself be proportionably augmented. In this process, which is very desirable, and inevitable under the existing duties, the resources which obviously present themselves to supply a deficiency in the revenue, should it occur, are the interests which may derive the principal benefit from the change. If domestic manufactures are raised by duties on foreign, the deficiency in the fund necessary for public purposes should be supplied by duties on the former. At the last session it seemed doubtful whether the revenue derived from the present sources would be adequate to all the great purposes of our Union, including the construction of our fortifications, the augmentation of the Navy, and the protection of our commerce against the dangers to which it is exposed. Had the deficiency been such as to subject us to the necessity either to abandon those measures of defense or to resort to the other means for adequate funds, the course presented to the adoption of a virtuous and enlightened people appeared to be a plain one. It must be gratifying to all to know that this necessity does not exist. Nothing, however, in contemplation of such important objects, which can be easily provided for, should be left to hazard. It is thought that the revenue may receive an augmentation from the existing sources, and in a manner to aid our manufactures, without hastening prematurely the result which has been suggested. It is believed that a moderate additional duty on certain articles would have that effect, without being liable to any serious objection. The examination of the whole coast, for the construction of permanent fortifications, from St. Croix to the Sabine, with the exception of part of the territory lately acquired, will be completed in the present year, as will be the survey of the Mississippi, under the resolution of the House of Representatives, from the mouth of the Ohio to the ocean, and likewise of the Ohio from Louisville to the Mississippi. A progress corresponding with the sums appropriated has also been made in the construction of these fortifications at the ports designated. As they will form a system of defense for the whole maritime frontier, and in consequence for the interior, and are to last for ages, the greatest care has been taken to fix the position of each work and to form it on such a scale as will be adequate to the purpose intended by it. All the inlets and assailable parts of our Union have been minutely examined, and positions taken with a view to the best effect, observing in every instance a just regard for economy. Doubts, however, being entertained as to the propriety of the position and extent of the work at Dauphine Island, further progress in it was suspended soon after the last session of Congress, and an order given to the Board of Engineers and Naval Commissioners to make a further and more minute examination of it in both respects, and to report the result without delay. Due progress has been made in the construction of vessels of war according to the law providing for the gradual augmentation of the Navy, and to the extent of existing appropriations. The vessels authorized by the act of 1820 have all been completed and are now in actual service. None of the larger ships have been or will be launched for the present, the object being to protect all which may not be required for immediate service from decay by suitable buildings erected over them. A squadron has been maintained, as heretofore, in the Mediterranean, by means whereof peace has been preserved with the Barbary Powers. This squadron has been reduced the present year to as small a force as is compatible with the fulfillment of the object intended by it. From past experience and the best information respecting the views of those powers it is distinctly understood that should our squadron be withdrawn they would soon recommence their hostilities and depredations upon our commerce. Their fortifications have lately been rebuilt and their maritime force increased. It has also been found necessary to maintain a naval force on the Pacific for the protection of the very important interests of our citizens engaged in commerce and the fisheries in that sea. Vessels have likewise been employed in cruising along the Atlantic coast, in the Gulf of Mexico, on the coast of Africa, and in the neighboring seas. In the latter many piracies have been committed on our commerce, and so extensive was becoming the range of those unprincipled adventurers that there was cause to apprehend, without a timely and decisive effort to suppress them, the worst consequences would ensue. Fortunately, a considerable check has been given to that spirit by our cruisers, who have succeeded in capturing and destroying several of their vessels. Nevertheless, it is considered an object of high importance to continue these cruises until the practice is entirely suppressed. Like success has attended our efforts to suppress the slave trade. Under the flag of the United States and the sanction of their papers the trade may be considered as entirely suppressed, and if any of our citizens are engaged in it under the flags and papers of other powers, it is only from a respect of those powers that these offenders are not seized and brought home to receive the punishment which the laws inflict. If every other power should adopt the same policy and pursue the same vigorous means for carrying it into effect, the trade could no longer exist. Deeply impressed with the blessings which we enjoy, and of which we have such manifold proofs, my mind is irresistibly drawn to that Almighty Being, the great source from whence they proceed and to whom our most grateful acknowledgments are due.  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 3, 1822 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: Many causes unite to make your present meeting peculiarly interesting to out constituents. The operation of our laws on the various subjects to which they apply, with the amendments which they occasionally require, imposes annually an important duty on the representatives of a free people. Our system has happily advanced to such maturity that I am not aware that your cares in that respect will be augmented. Other causes exist which are highly interesting to the whole civilized world and to no portion of it more so, in certain views, than to the United States. Of these causes and of their bearing on the interests of our Union I shall communicate the sentiments which I have formed with that freedom which a sense of duty dictates. It is proper, however, to invite your attention in the first instance to those concerns respecting which legislative provision is thought to be particularly urgent. On the 24th of June last a convention of navigation and commerce was concluded in this city between the United States and France by ministers duly authorized for the purpose. The sanction of the Executive having been given to this convention under a conviction that, taking all its stipulations into view, it rested essentially on a basis of reciprocal and equal advantage, I deemed it my duty, in compliance with the authority vested in the Executive by the second section of the act of the last session of the 6th of May, concerning navigation, to suspend by proclamation until the end of the next session of Congress the operation of the act entitled \"An act to impose a new tonnage duty on French ships and vessels, and for other purposes\", and to suspend likewise all other duties on French vessels or the goods imported in them which exceeded the duties on American vessels and on similar goods imported in them. I shall submit this convention forthwith to the Senate for its advice and consent as to the ratification. Since your last session the prohibition which had been imposed on the commerce between the United States and the British colonies in the West Indies and on this continent has likewise been removed. Satisfactory evidence having been adduced that the ports of those colonies had been opened to the vessels of the United States by an act of the British Parliament bearing date on the 24th of June last, on the conditions specified therein, I deemed it proper, in compliance with the provision of the first section of the act of the last session above recited, to declare, by proclamation bearing date on the 24th of August last, that the ports of the United States should thenceforward and until the end of the next session of Congress be opened to the vessels of Great Britain employed in that trade, under the limitation specified in that proclamation. A doubt was entertained whether the act of Congress applied to the British colonies on this continent as well as to those in the West Indies, but as the act of Parliament opened the intercourse equally with both, and it was the manifest intention of Congress, as well as the obvious policy of the United States, that the provisions of the act of Parliament should be met in equal extent on the part of the United States, and as also the act of Congress was supposed to vest in the President some discretion in the execution of it, I thought it advisable to give it a corresponding construction. Should the constitutional sanction of the Senate be given to the ratification of the convention with France, legislative provisions will be necessary to carry it fully into effect, as it likewise will be to continue in force, on such conditions as may be deemed just and proper, the intercourse which has been opened between the United States and the British colonies. Every light in the possession of the Executive will in due time be communicated on both subjects. Resting essentially on a basis of reciprocal and equal advantage, it has been the object of the Executive in transactions with other powers to meet the propositions of each with a liberal spirit, believing that thereby the interest of our country would be most effectually promoted. This course has been systematically pursued in the late occurrences with France and Great Britain, and in strict accord with the views of the Legislature. A confident hope is entertained that by the arrangement thus commenced with each all differences respecting navigation and commerce with the dominions in question will be adjusted, and a solid foundation be laid for an active and permanent intercourse which will prove equally advantageous to both parties. The decision of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Russia on the question submitted to him by the United States and Great Britain, concerning the construction of the first article of the treaty of Ghent, has been received. A convention has since been concluded between the parties, under the mediation of His Imperial Majesty, to prescribe the mode by which that article shall be carried into effect in conformity with that decision. I shall submit this convention to the Senate for its advice and consent as to the ratification, and, if obtained, shall immediately bring the subject before Congress for such provisions as may require the interposition of the Legislature. In compliance with an act of the last session a Territorial Government has been established in Florida on the principles of our system. By this act the inhabitants are secured in the full enjoyment of their rights and liberties, and to admission into the Union, with equal participation in the Government with the original States on the conditions heretofore prescribed to other Territories. By a clause in the 9th article of the treaty with Spain, by which that Territory was ceded to the United States, it is stipulated that satisfaction shall be made for the injuries, if any, which by process of law shall be established to have been suffered by the Spanish officers and individual Spanish inhabitants by the late operations of our troops in Florida. No provision having yet been made to carry that stipulation into effect, it is submitted to the consideration of Congress whether it will not be proper to vest the competent power in the district court at Pensacola, or in some tribunal to be specially organized for the purpose. The fiscal operations of the year have been more successful than had been anticipated at the commencement of the last session of Congress. The receipts into the Treasury during the three first quarters of the year have exceeded the sum of 14.745 millions. The payments made at the Treasury during the same period have exceeded 12.279 millions, leaving the Treasury on the 30th day of September last, including 1,168,592.24 which were in the Treasury on the first day of January last, a sum exceeding 4.128 millions. Besides discharging all demands for the current service of the year, including the interest and reimbursement of the public debt, the 6 stock of 1796, amounting to 80,000, has been redeemed. It is estimated that, after defraying the current expenses of the present quarter and redeeming the 2 millions of 6 stock of 1820, there will remain in the Treasury on the first of January next nearly 3 millions. It is estimated that the gross amount of duties which have been secured from the first of January to the 30th of September last has exceeded 19.5 millions, and the amount for the whole year will probably not fall short of 23 millions. Of the actual force in service under the present military establishment, the posts at which it is stationed, and the condition of each post, a report from the Secretary of War which is now communicated will give a distinct idea. By like reports the state of the Academy at West Point will be seen, as will be the progress which has been made on the fortifications along the coast and at the national armories and arsenals. The organization of the several corps composing the Army is such as to admit its expansion to a great extent in case of emergency, the officers carrying with them all the light which they possess to the new corps to which they might be appointed. With the organization of the staff there is equal cause to be satisfied. By the concentration of every branch with its chief in this city, in the presence of the Department, and with a grade in the chief military station to keep alive and cherish a military spirit, the greatest promptitude in the execution of orders, with the greatest economy and efficiency, are secured. The same view is taken of the Military Academy. Good order is preserved in it, and the youth are well instructed in every science connected with the great objects of the institution. They are also well trained and disciplined in the practical parts of the profession. It has been always found difficult to control the ardor inseparable from that early age in such manner as to give it a proper direction. The rights of manhood are too often claimed prematurely, in pressing which too far the respect which is due to age and the obedience necessary to a course of study and instruction in every such institution are sometimes lost sight of. The great object to be accomplished is the restraint of that ardor by such wise regulations and Government as, by directing all the energies of the youthful mind to the attainment of useful knowledge, will keep it within a just subordination and at the same time elevate it to the highest purposes. This object seems to be essentially obtained in this institution, and with great advantage to the Union. The Military Academy forms the basis, in regard to science, on which the military establishment rests. It furnishes annually, after due examination and on the report of the academic staff, many wellinformed youths to fill the vacancies which occur in the several corps of the Army, while others who retire to private life carry with them such attainments as, under the right reserved to the several States to appoint the officers and to train the militia, will enable them, by affording a wider field for selection, to promote the great object of the power vested in Congress of providing for the organizing, arming, and disciplining the militia. Thus by the mutual and harmonious cooperation of the two governments in the execution of a power divided between them, an object always to be cherished, the attainment of a great result, on which our liberties may depend, can not fail to be secured. I have to add that in proportion as our regular force is small should the instruction and discipline of the militia, the great resource on which we rely, be pushed to the utmost extent that circumstances will admit. A report from the Secretary of the Navy will communicate the progress which has been made in the construction of vessels of war, with other interesting details respecting the actual state of the affairs of that Department. It has been found necessary for the protection of our commerce to maintain the usual squadrons on the Mediterranean, the Pacific, and along the Atlantic coast, extending the cruises of the latter into the West Indies, where piracy, organized into a system, has preyed on the commerce of every country trading thither. A cruise has also been maintained on the coast of Africa, when the season would permit, for the suppression of the slave trade, and orders have been given to the commanders of all our public ships to seize our own vessels, should they find any engaging in that trade, and to bring them in for adjudication. In the West Indies piracy is of recent date, which may explain the cause why other powers have not combined against it. By the documents communicated it will be seen that the efforts of the United States to suppress it have had a very salutary effect. The benevolent provision of the act under which the protection has been extended alike to the commerce of other nations can not fail to be duly appreciated by them. In compliance with the act of the last session entitled \"An act to abolish the United States trading establishments\", agents were immediately appointed and instructed, under the direction of the Secretary of the Treasury, to close the business of the trading houses among the Indian tribes and to settle the accounts of the factors and subfactors engaged in that trade, and to execute in all other respects the injunction of that act in the mode prescribed therein. A final report of their proceedings shall be communicated to Congress as soon as it is received. It is with great regret I have to state that a serious malady has deprived us of many valuable citizens of Pensacola and checked the progress of some of those arrangements which are important to the Territory. This effect has been sensibly felt in respect to the Indians who inhabit that Territory, consisting of the remnants of the several tribes who occupy the middle ground between St. Augustine and Pensacola, with extensive claims but undefined boundaries. Although peace is preserved with those Indians, yet their position and claims tend essentially to interrupt the intercourse between the eastern and western parts of the Territory, on which our inhabitants are principally settled. It is essential to the growth and prosperity of the Territory, as well as to the interests of the Union, that those Indians should be removed, by special compact with them, to some other position or concentration within narrower limits where they are. With the limited means in the power of the Executive, instructions were given to the governor to accomplish this object so far as it might be practicable, which was prevented by the distressing malady referred to. To carry it fully into effect in either mode additional funds will be necessary, to the provision of which the powers of Congress are competent. With a view to such provision as may be deemed proper, the subject is submitted to your consideration, and in the interim further proceedings are suspended. It appearing that so much of the act entitled \"An act regulating the staff of the Army\", which passed on April 14, 1818, as relates to the commissariat will expire in April next, and the practical operation of that department having evinced its great utility, the propriety of its renewal is submitted to your consideration. The view which has been taken of the probable productiveness of the lead mines, connected with the importance of the material to the public defense, makes it expedient that they should be managed with peculiar care. It is therefore suggested whether it will not comport with the public interest to provide by law for the appointment of an agent skilled in mineralogy to superintend them, under the direction of the proper department. It is understood that the Cumberland road, which was constructed at great expense, has already suffered from the want of that regular superintendence and of those repairs which are indispensable to the preservation of such a work. This road is of incalculable advantage in facilitating the intercourse between the Western and the Atlantic States. Through the whole country from the northern extremity of Lake Erie to the Mississippi, and from all the waters which empty into each, finds an easy and direct communication to the seat of Government, and thence to the Atlantic. The facility which it affords to all military and commercial operations, and also to those of the Post Office Department, can not be estimated too highly. This great work is likewise an ornament and an honor to the nation. Believing that a competent power to adopt and execute a system of internal improvement has not been granted to Congress, but that such a power, confined to great national purposes and with proper limitations, would be productive of eminent advantage to our Union, I have thought it advisable that an amendment of the Constitution to that effect should be recommended to the several States. A bill which assumed the right to adopt and execute such a system having been presented for my signature at the last session, I was compelled, from the view which I had taken of the powers of the General Government, to negative it, on which occasion I thought it proper to communicate the sentiments which I had formed, on mature consideration, on the whole subject. To that communication, in all the views in which the great interest to which it relates may be supposed to merit your attention, I have now to refer. Should Congress, however, deem it improper to recommend such an amendment, they have, according to my judgment, the right to keep the road in repair by providing for the superintendence of it and appropriating the money necessary for repairs. Surely if they had the right to appropriate money to make the road they have a right to appropriate it to preserve the road from ruin. From the exercise of this power no danger is to be apprehended. Under our happy system the people are the sole and exclusive fountain of power. Each Government originates from them, and to them alone, each to its proper constituents, are they respectively and solely responsible for the faithful discharge of their duties within their constitutional limits; and that the people will confine their public agents of every station to the strict line of their constitutional duties there is no cause of doubt. Having, however, communicated my sentiments to Congress at the last session fully in the document to which I have referred, respecting the right of appropriation as distinct from the right of jurisdiction and sovereignty over the territory in question, I deem it improper to enlarge on the subject here. From the best information I have been able to obtain it appears that our manufactures, though depressed immediately after the peace, have considerably increased, and are still increasing, under the encouragement given them by the tariff of 1816 and by subsequent laws. Satisfied I am, whatever may be the abstract doctrine in favor of unrestricted commerce, provided all nations would concur in it and it was not liable to be interrupted by war, which has never occurred and can not be expected, that there are other strong reasons applicable to our situation and relations with other countries which impose on us the obligation to cherish and sustain our manufactures. Satisfied, however, I likewise am that the interest of every part of our Union, even of those most benefitted by manufactures, requires that this subject should be touched with the greatest caution, and a critical knowledge of the effect to be produced by the slightest change. On full consideration of the subject in all its relations I am persuaded that a further augmentation may now be made of the duties on certain foreign articles in favor of our own and without affecting injuriously any other interest. For more precise details I refer you to the communications which were made to Congress during the last session. So great was the amount of accounts for moneys advanced during the late war, in addition to others of a previous date which in the regular operations of the Government necessarily remained unsettled, that it required a considerable length of time for their adjustment. By a report from the first Comptroller of the Treasury it appears that on March 4th, 1817, the accounts then unsettled amounted to 103,068,876.41, of which on September 30th, 1822, 93,175,396.56 had been settled, leaving on that day a balance unsettled of 9,893,479.85. That there have been drawn from the Treasury, in paying the public debt and sustaining the Government in all its operations and disbursements, since March 4th, 1817, 157,199,380.96, the accounts for which have been settled to the amount of 137,501,451.12, leaving a balance unsettled of 19,697,929.84. For precise details respecting each of these balances I refer to the report of the Comptroller and the documents which accompany it. From this view it appears that our commercial differences with France and Great Britain have been placed in a train of amicable arrangement on conditions fair and honorable in both instances to each party; that our finances are in a very productive state, our revenue being at present fully competent to all the demands upon it; that our military force is well organized in all its branches and capable of rendering the most important service in case of emergency that its number will admit of; that due progress has been made, under existing appropriations, in the construction of fortifications and in the operations of the Ordnance Department; that due progress has in like manner been made in the construction of ships of war; that our Navy is in the best condition, felt and respected in every sea in which it is employed for the protection of our commerce; that our manufactures have augmented in amount and improved in quality; that great progress has been made in the settlement of accounts and in the recovery of the balances due by individuals, and that the utmost economy is secured and observed in every Department of the Administration. Other objects will likewise claim your attention, because from the station which the United States hold as a member of the great community of nations they have rights to maintain, duties to perform, and dangers to encounter. A strong hope was entertained that peace would ere this have been concluded between Spain and the independent governments south of the United States in this hemisphere. Long experience having evinced the competency of those governments to maintain the independence which they had declared, it was presumed that the considerations which induced their recognition by the United States would have had equal weight with other powers, and that Spain herself, yielding to those magnanimous feelings of which her history furnishes so many examples, would have terminated on that basis a controversy so unavailing and at the same time so destructive. We still cherish the hope that this result will not long be postponed. Sustaining our neutral position and allowing to each party while the war continues equal rights, it is incumbent on the United States to claim of each with equal rigor the faithful observance of our rights according to the wellknown law of nations. From each, therefore, a like cooperation is expected in the suppression of the piratical practice which has grown out of this war and of blockades of extensive coasts on both seas, which, considering the small force employed to sustain them, have not the slightest foundation to rest on. Europe is still unsettled, and although the war long menaced between Russia and Turkey has not broken out, there is no certainty that the differences between those powers will be amicably adjusted. It is impossible to look to the oppressions of the country respecting which those differences arose without being deeply affected. The mention of Greece fills the mind with the most exalted sentiments and arouses in our bosoms the best feelings of which our nature is susceptible. Superior skill and refinement in the arts, heroic gallantry in action, disinterested patriotism, enthusiastic zeal and devotion in favor of public and personal liberty are associated with our recollections of ancient Greece. That such a country should have been overwhelmed and so long hidden, as it were, from the world under a gloomy despotism has been a cause of unceasing and deep regret to generous minds for ages past. It was natural, therefore, that the reappearance of those people in their original character, contending in favor of their liberties, should produce that great excitement and sympathy in their favor which have been so signally displayed throughout the United States. A strong hope is entertained that these people will recover their independence and resume their equal station among the nations of the earth. A great effort has been made in Spain and Portugal to improve the condition of the people, and it must be very consoling to all benevolent minds to see the extraordinary moderation with which it has been conducted. That it may promote the happiness of both nations is the ardent wish of this whole people, to the expression of which we confine ourselves; for whatever may be the feelings or sentiments which every individual under our Government has a right to indulge and express, it is nevertheless a sacred maxim, equally with the Government and people, that the destiny of every independent nation in what relates to such improvements of right belongs and ought to be left exclusively to themselves. Whether we reason from the late wars or from those menacing symptoms which now appear in Europe, it is manifest that if a convulsion should take place in any of those countries it will proceed from causes which have no existence and are utterly unknown in these States, in which there is but one order, that of the people, to whom the sovereignty exclusively belongs. Should war break out in any of those countries who can foretell the extent to which it may be carried or the desolation which it may spread? Exempt as we are from these causes, our internal tranquillity is secure; and distant as we are from the troubled scene, and faithful to first principles in regard to other powers, we might reasonably presume that we should not be molested by them. This, however, ought not to be calculated on as certain. Unprovoked injuries are often inflicted and even the peculiar felicity of our situation might with some be a cause for excitement and aggression. The history of the late wars in Europe furnishes a complete demonstration that no system of conduct, however correct in principle, can protect neutral powers from injury from any party; that a defenseless position and distinguished love of peace are the surest invitations to war, and that there is no way to avoid it other than by being always prepared and willing for just cause to meet it. If there be a people on earth whose more especial duty it is to be at all times prepared to defend the rights with which they are blessed, and to surpass all others in sustaining the necessary burthens, and in submitting to sacrifices to make such preparations, it is undoubtedly the people of these States. When we see that a civil war of the most frightful character rages from the Adriatic to the Black Sea; that strong symptoms of war appear in other parts, proceeding from causes which, should it break out, may become general and be of long duration; that the war still continues between Spain and the independent governments, her late Provinces, in this hemisphere; that it is likewise menaced between Portugal and Brazil, in consequence of the attempt of the latter to dismember itself from the former, and that a system of piracy of great extent is maintained in the neighboring seas, which will require equal vigilance and decision to suppress it, the reasons for sustaining the attitude which we now hold and for pushing forward all our measures of defense with the utmost vigor appear to me to acquire new force. The United States owe to the world a great example, and, by means thereof, to the cause of liberty and humanity a generous support. They have so far succeeded to the satisfaction of the virtuous and enlightened of every country. There is no reason to doubt that their whole movement will be regulated by a sacred regard to principle, all our institutions being founded on that basis. The ability to support our own cause under any trial to which it may be exposed is the great point on which the public solicitude rests. It has been often charged against free governments that they have neither the foresight nor the virtue to provide at the proper season for great emergencies; that their course is improvident and expensive; that war will always find them unprepared, and, whatever may be its calamities, that its terrible warnings will be disregarded and forgotten as soon as peace returns. I have full confidence that this charge so far as relates to the United States will be shewn to be utterly destitute of truth.  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 2, 1823 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: Many important subjects will claim your attention during the present session, of which I shall endeavor to give, in aid of your deliberations, a just idea in this communication. I undertake this duty with diffidence, from the vast extent of the interests on which I have to treat and of their great importance to every portion of our Union. I enter on it with zeal from a thorough conviction that there never was a period since the establishment of our Revolution when, regarding the condition of the civilized world and its bearing on us, there was greater necessity for devotion in the public servants to their respective duties, or for virtue, patriotism, and union in our constituents. Meeting in you a new Congress, I deem it proper to present this view of public affairs in greater detail than might otherwise be necessary. I do it, however, with peculiar satisfaction, from a knowledge that in this respect I shall comply more fully with the sound principles of our Government. The people being with us exclusively the sovereign, it is indispensable that full information be laid before them on all important subjects, to enable them to exercise that high power with complete effect. If kept in the dark, they must be incompetent to it. We are all liable to error, and those who are engaged in the management of public affairs are more subject to excitement and to be led astray by their particular interests and passions than the great body of our constituents, who, living at home in the pursuit of their ordinary avocations, are calm but deeply interested spectators of events and of the conduct of those who are parties to them. To the people every department of the Government and every individual in each are responsible, and the more full their information the better they can judge of the wisdom of the policy pursued and of the conduct of each in regard to it. From their dispassionate judgment much aid may always be obtained, while their approbation will form the greatest incentive and most gratifying reward for virtuous actions, and the dread of their censure the best security against the abuse of their confidence. Their interests in all vital questions are the same, and the bond, by sentiment as well as by interest, will be proportionably strengthened as they are better informed of the real state of public affairs, especially in difficult conjunctures. It is by such knowledge that local prejudices and jealousies are surmounted, and that a national policy extending its fostering care and protection to all the great interests of our Union, is formed and steadily adhered to. A precise knowledge of our relations with foreign powers as respects our negotiations and transactions with each is thought to be particularly necessary. Equally necessary is it that we should form a just estimate of our resources, revenue, and progress in every kind of improvement connected with the national prosperity and public defense. It is by rendering justice to other nations that we may expect it from them. It is by our ability to resent injuries and redress wrongs that we may avoid them. The commissioners under the 5th article of the treaty of Ghent, having disagreed in their opinions respecting that portion of the boundary between the Territories of the United States and of Great Britain the establishment of which had been submitted to them, have made their respective reports in compliance with that article, that the same might be referred to the decision of a friendly power. It being manifest, however, that it would be difficult, if not impossible, for any power to perform that office without great delay and much inconvenience to itself, a proposal has been made by this Government, and acceded to by that of Great Britain, to endeavor to establish that boundary by amicable negotiation. It appearing from long experience that no satisfactory arrangement could be formed of the commercial intercourse between the United States and the British colonies in this hemisphere by legislative acts while each party pursued its own course without agreement or concert with the other, a proposal has been made to the British Government to regulate this commerce by treaty, as it has been to arrange in like manner the just claim of the citizens of the United States inhabiting the States and Territories bordering on the lakes and rivers which empty into the St. Lawrence to the navigation of that river to the ocean. For these and other objects of high importance to the interests of both parties a negotiation has been opened with the British Government which it is hoped will have a satisfactory result. The commissioners under the 6th and 7th articles of the treaty of Ghent having successfully closed their labors in relation to the 6th, have proceeded to the discharge of those relating to the 7th. Their progress in the extensive survey required for the performance of their duties justifies the presumption that it will be completed in the ensuing year. The negotiation which had been long depending with the French Government on several important subjects, and particularly for a just indemnity for losses sustained in the late wars by the citizens of the United States under unjustifiable seizures and confiscations of their property, has not as yet had the desired effect. As this claim rests on the same principle with others which have been admitted by the French Government, it is not perceived on what just ground it can be rejected. A minister will be immediately appointed to proceed to France and resume the negotiation on this and other subjects which may arise between the two nations. At the proposal of the Russian Imperial Government, made through the minister of the Emperor residing here, a full power and instructions have been transmitted to the minister of the United States at St. Petersburg to arrange by amicable negotiation the respective rights and interests of the two nations on the North West coast of this continent. A similar proposal had been made by His Imperial Majesty to the Government of Great Britain, which has likewise been acceded to. The Government of the United States has been desirous by this friendly proceeding of manifesting the great value which they have invariably attached to the friendship of the Emperor and their solicitude to cultivate the best understanding with his Government. In the discussions to which this interest has given rise and in the arrangements by which they may terminate the occasion has been judged proper for asserting, as a principle in which the rights and interests of the United States are involved, that the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European powers. Since the close of the last session of Congress the commissioners and arbitrators for ascertaining and determining the amount of indemnification which may be due to citizens of the United States under the decision of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Russia, in conformity to the convention concluded at St. Petersburg on July 12th, 1822, have assembled in this city, and organized themselves as a board for the performance of the duties assigned to them by that treaty. The commission constituted under the 11th article of the treaty of February 22nd, 1819, between the United States and Spain is also in session here, and as the term of three years limited by the treaty for the execution of the trust will expire before the period of the next regular meeting of Congress, the attention of the Legislature will be drawn to the measures which may be necessary to accomplish the objects for which the commission was instituted. In compliance with a resolution of the House of Representatives adopted at their last session, instructions have been given to all the ministers of the United States accredited to the powers of Europe and America to propose the proscription of the African slave trade by classing it under the denomination, and inflicting on its perpetrators the punishment, of piracy. Should this proposal be acceded to, it is not doubted that this odious and criminal practice will be promptly and entirely suppressed. It is earnestly hoped that it will be acceded to, from the firm belief that it is the most effectual expedient that can be adopted for the purpose. At the commencement of the recent war between France and Spain it was declared by the French Government that it would grant no commissions to privateers, and that neither the commerce of Spain herself nor of neutral nations should be molested by the naval force of France, except in the breach of a lawful blockade. This declaration, which appears to have been faithfully carried into effect, concurring with principles proclaimed and cherished by the United States from the first establishment of their independence, suggested the hope that the time had arrived when the proposal for adopting it as a permanent and invariable rule in all future maritime wars might meet the favorable consideration of the great European powers. Instructions have accordingly been given to our ministers with France, Russia, and Great Britain to make those proposals to their respective Governments, and when the friends of humanity reflect on the essential amelioration to the condition of the human race which would result from the abolition of private war on the sea and on the great facility by which it might be accomplished, requiring only the consent of a few sovereigns, an earnest hope is indulged that these overtures will meet with an attention animated by the spirit in which they were made, and that they will ultimately be successful. The ministers who were appointed to the Republics of Colombia and Buenos Ayres during the last session of Congress proceeded shortly afterwards to their destinations. Of their arrival there official intelligence has not yet been received. The minister appointed to the Republic of Chile will sail in a few days. An early appointment will also be made to Mexico. A minister has been received from Colombia, and the other Governments have been informed that ministers, or diplomatic agents of inferior grade, would be received from each, accordingly as they might prefer the one or the other. The minister appointed to Spain proceeded soon after his appointment for Cadiz, the residence of the Sovereign to whom he was accredited. In approaching that port the frigate which conveyed him was warned off by the commander of the French squadron by which it was blockaded and not permitted to enter, although apprised by the captain of the frigate of the public character of the person whom he had on board, the landing of whom was the sole object of his proposed entry. This act, being considered an infringement of the rights of ambassadors and of nations, will form a just cause of complaint to the Government of France against the officer by whom it was committed. The actual condition of the public finances more than realizes the favorable anticipations that were entertained of it at the opening of the last session of Congress. On the first of January there was a balance in the Treasury of 4,237,427.55. From that time to the 30th of September the receipts amounted to upward of 16.1 millions, and the expenditures to 11.4 millions. During the 4th quarter of the year it is estimated that the receipts will at least equal the expenditures, and that there will remain in the Treasury on the first day of January next a surplus of nearly 9 millions. On January 1st, 1825, a large amount of the war debt and a part of the Revolutionary debt become redeemable. Additional portions of the former will continue to become redeemable annually until the year 1835. it is believed, however, that if the United States remain at peace the whole of that debt may be redeemed by the ordinary revenue of those years during that period under the provision of the act of March 3rd, 1817, creating the sinking fund, and in that case the only part of the debt that will remain after the year 1835 will be the 7 millions of 5 stock subscribed to the Bank of the United States, and the 3 Revolutionary debt, amounting to 13,296,099.06, both of which are redeemable at the pleasure of the Government. The state of the Army in its organization and discipline has been gradually improving for several years, and has now attained a high degree of perfection. The military disbursements have been regularly made and the accounts regularly and promptly rendered for settlement. The supplies of various descriptions have been of good quality, and regularly issued at all of the posts. A system of economy and accountability has been introduced into every branch of the service which admits of little additional improvement. This desirable state has been attained by the act reorganizing the staff of the Army, passed on April 14th, 1818. The moneys appropriated for fortifications have been regularly and economically applied, and all the works advanced as rapidly as the amount appropriated would admit. Three important works will be completed in the course of this yearthat is, Fort Washington, Fort Delaware, and the fort at the Rigolets, in Louisiana. The Board of Engineers and the Topographical Corps have been in constant and active service in surveying the coast and projecting the works necessary for its defense. The Military Academy has attained a degree of perfection in its discipline and instruction equal, as is believed, to any institution of its kind in any country. The money appropriated for the use of the Ordnance Department has been regularly and economically applied. The fabrication of arms at the national armories and by contract with the Department has been gradually improving in quality and cheapness. It is believed that their quality is now such as to admit of but little improvement. The completion of the fortifications renders it necessary that there should be a suitable appropriation for the purpose of fabricating the cannon and carriages necessary for those works. Under the appropriation of 5,000 for exploring the Western waters for the location of a site for a Western armory, a commission was constituted, consisting of Colonel McRee, Colonel Lee, and Captain Talcott, who have been engaged in exploring the country. They have not yet reported the result of their labors, but it is believed that they will be prepared to do it at an early part of the session of Congress. During the month of June last General Ashley and his party, who were trading under a license from the Government, were attacked by the Ricarees while peaceably trading with the Indians at their request. Several of the party were killed and wounded and their property taken or destroyed. Colonel Leavenworth, who commanded Fort Atkinson, at the Council Bluffs, the most western post, apprehending that the hostile spirit of the Ricarees would extend to other tribes in that quarter, and that thereby the lives of the traders on the Missouri and the peace of the frontier would be endangered, took immediate measures to check the evil. With a detachment of the regiment stationed at the Bluffs he successfully attacked the Ricaree village, and it is hoped that such an impression has been made on them as well as on the other tribes on the Missouri as will prevent a recurrence of future hostility. The report of the Secretary of War, which is herewith transmitted, will exhibit in greater detail the condition of the Department in its various branches, and the progress which has been made in its administration during the three first quarters of the year. I transmit a return of the militia of the several States according to the last reports which have been made by the proper officers in each to the Department of War. By reference to this return it will be seen that it is not complete, although great exertions have been made to make it so. As the defense and even the liberties of the country must depend in times of imminent danger on the militia, it is of the highest importance that it be well organized, armed, and disciplined throughout the Union. The report of the Secretary of War shews the progress made during the three first quarters of the present year by the application of the fund appropriated for arming the militia. Much difficulty is found in distributing the arms according to the act of Congress providing for it from the failure of the proper departments in many of the States to make regular returns. The act of May 12, 1820 provides that the system of tactics and regulations of the various corps of the Regular Army shall be extended to the militia. This act has been very imperfectly executed from the want of uniformity in the organization of the militia, proceeding from the defects of the system itself, and especially in its application to that main arm of the public defense. It is thought that this important subject in all its branches merits the attention of Congress. The report of the Secretary of the Navy, which is now communicated, furnishes an account of the administration of that Department for the three first quarters of the present year, with the progress made in augmenting the Navy, and the manner in which the vessels in commission have been employed. The usual force has been maintained in the Mediterranean Sea, the Pacific Ocean, and along the Atlantic coast, and has afforded the necessary protection to our commerce in those seas. In the West Indies and the Gulf of Mexico our naval force has been augmented by the addition of several small vessels provided for by the \"act authorizing an additional naval force for the suppression of piracy\", passed by Congress at their last session. That armament has been eminently successful in the accomplishment of its object. The piracies by which our commerce in the neighborhood of the island of Cuba had been afflicted have been repressed and the confidence of our merchants in a great measure restored. The patriotic zeal and enterprise of Commodore Porter, to whom the command of the expedition was confided, has been fully seconded by the officers and men under his command. And in reflecting with high satisfaction on the honorable manner in which they have sustained the reputation of their country and its Navy, the sentiment is alloyed only by a concern that in the fulfillment of that arduous service the diseases incident to the season and to the climate in which it was discharged have deprived the nation of many useful lives, and among them of several officers of great promise. In the month of August a very malignant fever made its appearance at Thompsons Island, which threatened the destruction of our station there. Many perished, and the commanding officer was severely attacked. Uncertain as to his fate and knowing that most of the medical officers had been rendered incapable of discharging their duties, it was thought expedient to send to that post an officer of rank and experience, with several skilled surgeons, to ascertain the origin of the fever and the probability of its recurrence there in future seasons; to furnish every assistance to those who were suffering, and, if practicable, to avoid the necessity of abandoning so important a station. Commodore Rodgers, with a promptitude which did him honor, cheerfully accepted that trust, and has discharged it in the manner anticipated from his skill and patriotism. Before his arrival Commodore Porter, with the greater part of the squadron, had removed from the island and returned to the United States in consequence of the prevailing sickness. Much useful information has, however, been obtained as to the state of the island and great relief afforded to those who had been necessarily left there. Although our expedition, cooperating with an invigorated administration of the government of the island of Cuba, and with the corresponding active exertions of a British naval force in the same seas, have almost entirely destroyed the unlicensed piracies from that island, the success of our exertions has not been equally effectual to suppress the same crime, under other pretenses and colors, in the neighboring island of Porto Rico. They have been committed there under the abusive issue of Spanish commissions. At an early period of the present year remonstrances were made to the governor of that island, by an agent who was sent for the purpose, against those outrages on the peaceful commerce of the United States, of which many had occurred. That officer, professing his own want of authority to make satisfaction for our just complaints, answered only by a reference of them to the Government of Spain. The minister of the United States to that court was specially instructed to urge the necessity of immediate and effectual interposition of that Government, directing restitution and indemnity for wrongs already committed and interdicting the repetition of them. The minister, as has been seen, was debarred access to the Spanish Government, and in the mean time several new cases of flagrant outrage have occurred, and citizens of the United States in the island of Porto Rico have suffered, and others been threatened with assassination for asserting their unquestionable rights even before the lawful tribunals of the country. The usual orders have been given to all our public ships to seize American vessels in the slave trade and bring them in for adjudication, and I have the gratification to state that not one so employed has been discovered, and there is good reason to believe that our flag is now seldom, if at all, disgraced by that traffic. It is a source of great satisfaction that we are always enabled to recur to the conduct of our Navy with price and commendation. As a means of national defense it enjoys the public confidence, and is steadily assuming additional importance. It is submitted whether a more efficient and equally economical organization of it might not in several respects be effected. It is supposed that higher grades than now exist by law would be useful. They would afford wellmerited rewards to those who have long and faithfully served their country, present the best incentives to good conduct, and the best means of insuring a proper discipline; destroy the inequality in that respect between military and naval services, and relieve our officers from many inconveniences and mortifications which occur when our vessels meet those of other nations, ours being the only service in which such grades do not exist. A report of the Post MasterGeneral, which accompanies this communication, will shew the present state of the PostOffice Department and its general operations for some years past. There is established by law 88,600 miles of post roads, on which the mail is now transported 85,700 miles, and contracts have been made for its transportation on all the established routes, with one or two exceptions. There are 5,240 post offices in the Union, and as many post masters. The gross amount of postage which accrued from July 1st, 1822 to July 1st, 1823 was 1,114,345.12. During the same period the expenditures of the PostOffice Department amounted to 1,169,885.51 and consisted of the following items, viz: Compensation to post masters, 353,995.98; incidental expenses, 30,866.37; transportation of the mail, 784,600.08; payments into the Treasury, 423.08. On the first of July last there was due to the Department from post masters 135,245.28; from late post masters and contractors, 256,749.31; making a total amount of balances due to the Department of 391,994.59. These balances embrace all delinquencies of post masters and contractors which have taken place since the organization of the Department. There was due by the Department to contractors on the first of July last 26,548.64. The transportation of the mail within five years past has been greatly extended, and the expenditures of the Department proportionably increased. Although the postage which has accrued within the last three years has fallen short of the expenditures 262,821.46, it appears that collections have been made from the outstanding balances to meet the principal part of the current demands. It is estimated that not more than 250,000 of the above balances can be collected, and that a considerable part of this sum can only be realized by a resort to legal process. Some improvements in the receipts for postage is expected. A prompt attention to the collection of moneys received by post masters, it is believed, will enable the Department to continue its operations without aid from the Treasury, unless the expenditures shall be increased by the establishment of new mail routes. A revision of some parts of the post office law may be necessary; and it is submitted whether it would not be proper to provide for the appointment of post masters, where the compensation exceeds a certain amount, by nomination to the Senate, as other officers of the General Government are appointed. Having communicated my views to Congress at the commencement of the last session respecting the encouragement which ought to be given to our manufactures and the principle on which it should be founded, I have only to add that those views remain unchanged, and that the present state of those countries with which we have the most immediate political relations and greatest commercial intercourse tends to confirm them. Under this impression I recommend a review of the tariff for the purpose of affording such additional protection to those articles which we are prepared to manufacture, or which are more immediately connected with the defense and independence of the country. The actual state of the public accounts furnishes additional evidence of the efficiency of the present system of accountability in relation to the public expenditure. Of the moneys drawn from the Treasury since March 4th, 1817, the sum remaining unaccounted for on the 30th of September last is more than 1.5 millions less than on the 30th of September preceding; and during the same period a reduction of nearly 1 million has been made in the amount of the unsettled accounts for moneys advanced previously to March 4th, 1817. It will be obvious that in proportion as the mass of accounts of the latter description is diminished by settlement the difficulty of settling the residue is increased from the consideration that in many instances it can be obtained only by legal process. For more precise details on this subject I refer to a report from the first Comptroller of the Treasury. The sum which was appropriated at the last session for the repairs of the Cumberland road has been applied with good effect to that object. A final report has not been received from the agent who was appointed to superintend it. As soon as it is received it shall be communicated to Congress. Many patriotic and enlightened citizens who have made the subject an object of particular investigation have suggested an improvement of still greater importance. They are of the opinion that the waters of the Chesapeake and Ohio may be connected together by one continued canal, and at an expense far short of the value and importance of the object to be obtained. If this could be accomplished it is impossible to calculate the beneficial consequences which would result from it. A great portion of the produce of the very fertile country through which it would pass would find a market through that channel. Troops might be moved with great facility in war, with cannon and every kind of munition, and in either direction. Connecting the Atlantic with the Western country in a line passing through the seat of the National Government, it would contribute essentially to strengthen the bond of union itself. Believing as I do that Congress possess the right to appropriate money for such a national object (the jurisdiction remaining to the States through which the canal would pass), I submit it to your consideration whether it may not be advisable to authorize by an adequate appropriation the employment of a suitable number of the officers of the Corps of Engineers to examine the unexplored ground during the next season and to report their opinion thereon. It will likewise be proper to extend their examination to the several routes through which the waters of the Ohio may be connected by canals with those of Lake Erie. As the Cumberland road will require annual repairs, and Congress have not thought it expedient to recommend to the States an amendment to the Constitution for the purpose of vesting in the United States a power to adopt and execute a system of internal improvement, it is also submitted to your consideration whether it may not be expedient to authorize the Executive to enter into an arrangement with the several States through which the road passes to establish tolls, each within its limits, for the purpose of defraying the expense of future repairs and of providing also by suitable penalties for its protection against future injuries. The act of Congress of May 7th, 1822, appropriated the sum of 22,700 for the purpose of erecting two piers as a shelter for vessels from ice near Cape Henlopen, Delaware Bay. To effect the object of the act the officers of the Board of Engineers, with Commodore Bainbridge, were directed to prepare plans and estimates of piers sufficient to answer the purpose intended by the act. It appears by their report, which accompanies the documents from the War Department, that the appropriation is not adequate to the purpose intended; and as the piers would be of great service both to the navigation of the Delaware Bay and the protection of vessels on the adjacent parts of the coast, I submit for the consideration of Congress whether additional and sufficient appropriations should not be made. The Board of Engineers were also directed to examine and survey the entrance of the harbor of the port of Presqu'isle, in Pennsylvania, in order to make an estimate of the expense of removing the obstructions to the entrance, with a plan of the best mode of effecting the same, under the appropriation for that purpose by act of Congress passed 3rd of March last. The report of the Board accompanies the papers from the War Department, and is submitted for the consideration of Congress. A strong hope has been long entertained, founded on the heroic struggle of the Greeks, that they would succeed in their contest and resume their equal station among the nations of the earth. It is believed that the whole civilized world take a deep interest in their welfare. Although no power has declared in their favor, yet none according to our information, has taken part against them. Their cause and their name have protected them from dangers which might ere this have overwhelmed any other people. The ordinary calculations of interest and of acquisition with a view to aggrandizement, which mingles so much in the transactions of nations, seem to have had no effect in regard to them. From the facts which have come to our knowledge there is good cause to believe that their enemy has lost forever all dominion over them; that Greece will become again an independent nation. That she may obtain that rank is the object of our most ardent wishes. It was stated at the commencement of the last session that a great effort was then making in Spain and Portugal to improve the condition of the people of those countries, and that it appeared to be conducted with extraordinary moderation. It need scarcely be remarked that the result has been so far very different from what was then anticipated. Of events in that quarter of the globe, with which we have so much intercourse and from which we derive our origin, we have always been anxious and interested spectators. The citizens of the United States cherish sentiments the most friendly in favor of the liberty and happiness of their fellow men on that side of the Atlantic. In the wars of the European powers in matters relating to themselves we have never taken any part, nor does it comport with our policy so to do. It is only when our rights are invaded or seriously menaced that we resent injuries or make preparation for our defense. With the movements in this hemisphere we are of necessity more immediately connected, and by causes which must be obvious to all enlightened and impartial observers. The political system of the allied powers is essentially different in this respect from that of America. This difference proceeds from that which exists in their respective Governments; and to the defense of our own, which has been achieved by the loss of so much blood and treasure, and matured by the wisdom of their most enlightened citizens, and under which we have enjoyed unexampled felicity, this whole nation is devoted. We owe it, therefore, to candor and to the amicable relations existing between the United States and those powers to declare that we should consider any attempt on their part to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. With the existing colonies or dependencies of any European power we have not interfered and shall not interfere, but with the Governments who have declared their independence and maintained it, and whose independence we have, on great consideration and on just principles, acknowledged, we could not view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing them, or controlling in any other manner their destiny, by any European power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposition toward the United States. In the war between those new Governments and Spain we declared our neutrality at the time of their recognition, and to this we have adhered, and shall continue to adhere, provided no change shall occur which, in the judgment of the competent authorities of this Government, shall make a corresponding change on the part of the United States indispensable to their security. The late events in Spain and Portugal shew that Europe is still unsettled. Of this important fact no stronger proof can be adduced than that the allied powers should have thought it proper, on any principle satisfactory to themselves, to have interposed by force in the internal concerns of Spain. To what extent such interposition may be carried, on the same principle, is a question in which all independent powers whose governments differ from theirs are interested, even those most remote, and surely none more so than the United States. Our policy in regard to Europe, which was adopted at an early stage of the wars which have so long agitated that quarter of the globe, nevertheless remains the same, which is, not to interfere in the internal concerns of any of its powers; to consider the government de facto as the legitimate government for us; to cultivate friendly relations with it, and to preserve those relations by a frank, firm, and manly policy, meeting in all instances the just claims of every power, submitting to injuries from none. But in regard to those continents circumstances are eminently and conspicuously different. It is impossible that the allied powers should extend their political system to any portion of either continent without endangering our peace and happiness; nor can anyone believe that our southern brethren, if left to themselves, would adopt it of their own accord. It is equally impossible, therefore, that we should behold such interposition in any form with indifference. If we look to the comparative strength and resources of Spain and those new Governments, and their distance from each other, it must be obvious that she can never subdue them. It is still the true policy of the United States to leave the parties to themselves, in the hope that other powers will pursue the same course. If we compare the present condition of our Union with its actual state at the close of our Revolution, the history of the world furnishes no example of a progress in improvement in all the important circumstances which constitute the happiness of a nation which bears any resemblance to it. At the first epoch our population did not exceed 3,000,000. By the last census it amounted to about 10,000,000, and, what is more extraordinary, it is almost altogether native, for the immigration from other countries has been inconsiderable. At the first epoch half the territory within our acknowledged limits was uninhabited and a wilderness. Since then new territory has been acquired of vast extent, comprising within it many rivers, particularly the Mississippi, the navigation of which to the ocean was of the highest importance to the original States. Over this territory our population has expanded in every direction, and new States have been established almost equal in number to those which formed the first bond of our Union. This expansion of our population and accession of new States to our Union have had the happiest effect on all its highest interests. That it has eminently augmented our resources and added to our strength and respectability as a power is admitted by all, but it is not in these important circumstances only that this happy effect is felt. It is manifest that by enlarging the basis of our system and increasing the number of States the system itself has been greatly strengthened in both its branches. Consolidation and disunion have thereby been rendered equally impracticable. Each Government, confiding in its own strength, has less to apprehend from the other, and in consequence each, enjoying a greater freedom of action, is rendered more efficient for all the purposes for which it was instituted. It is unnecessary to treat here of the vast improvement made in the system itself by the adoption of this Constitution and of its happy effect in elevating the character and in protecting the rights of the nation as well as individuals. To what, then, do we owe these blessings? It is known to all that we derive them from the excellence of our institutions. Ought we not, then, to adopt every measure which may be necessary to perpetuate them?  State of the Union Address James Monroe December 7, 1824 FellowCitizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: The view which I have now to present to you of our affairs, foreign and domestic, realizes the most sanguine anticipations which have been entertained of the public prosperity. If we look to the whole, our growth as a nation continues to be rapid beyond example; if to the States which compose it, the same gratifying spectacle is exhibited. Our expansion over the vast territory within our limits has been great, without indicating any decline in those sections from which the emigration has been most conspicuous. We have daily gained strength by a native population in every quartera population devoted to our happy system of government and cherishing the bond of union with internal affection. Experience has already shewn that the difference of climate and of industry, proceeding from that cause, inseparable from such vast domains, and which under other systems might have a repulsive tendency, can not fail to produce with us under wise regulations the opposite effect. What one portion wants the other may supply; and this will be most sensibly felt by the parts most distant from each other, forming thereby a domestic market and an active intercourse between the extremes and throughout every portion of our Union. Thus by a happy distribution of power between the National and State Governments, Governments which rest exclusively on the sovereignty of the people and are fully adequate to the great purposes for which they were respectively instituted, causes which might otherwise lead to dismemberment operate powerfully to draw us closer together. In every other circumstance a correct view of the actual state of our Union must be equally gratifying to our constituents. Our relations with foreign powers are of a friendly character, although certain interesting differences remain unsettled with some. Our revenue under the mild system of impost and tonnage continues to be adequate to all the purposes of the Government. Our agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and navigation flourish. Our fortifications are advancing in the degree authorized by existing appropriations to maturity, and due progress is made in the augmentation of the Navy to the limit prescribed for it by law. For these blessings we owe to Almighty God, from whom we derive them, and with profound reverence, our most grateful and unceasing acknowledgments. In adverting to our relations with foreign powers, which are always an object of the highest importance, I have to remark that of the subjects which have been brought into discussion with them during the present Administration some have been satisfactorily terminated, others have been suspended, to be resumed hereafter under circumstances more favorable to success, and others are still in negotiation, with the hope that they may be adjusted with mutual accommodation to the interests and to the satisfaction of the respective parties. It has been the invariable object of this Government to cherish the most friendly relations with every power, and on principles and conditions which might make them permanent. A systematic effort has been made to place our commerce with each power on a footing of perfect reciprocity, to settle with each in a spirit of candor and liberality all existing differences, and to anticipate and remove so far as it might be practicable all causes of future variance. It having been stipulated by the 7th article of the convention of navigation and commerce which was concluded on June 24th, 1822, between the United States and France, that the said convention should continue in force for two years from the first of October of that year, and for an indefinite term afterwards, unless one of the parties should declare its intention to renounce it, in which event it should cease to operate at the end of six months from such declaration, and no such intention having been announced, the convention having been found advantageous to both parties, it has since remained, and still remains, in force. At the time when that convention was concluded many interesting subjects were left unsettled, and particularly our claim to indemnity for spoliations which were committed on our commerce in the late wars. For these interests and claims it was in the contemplation of the parties to make provision at a subsequent day by a more comprehensive and definitive treaty. The object has been duly attended to since by the Executive, but as yet it has not been accomplished. It is hoped that a favorable opportunity will present itself for opening a negotiation which may embrace and arrange all existing differences and every other concern in which they have a common interest upon the accession of the present King of France, an event which has occurred since the close of the last session of Congress. With Great Britain our commercial intercourse rests on the same footing that it did at the last session. By the convention of 1815, the commerce between the United States and the British dominions in Europe and the East Indies was arranged on a principle of reciprocity. That convention was confirmed and continued in force, with slight exceptions, by a subsequent treaty for the term of ten years from October 20th, 1818, the date of the latter. The trade with the British colonies in the West Indies has not as yet been arranged, by treaty or otherwise, to our satisfaction. An approach to that result has been made by legislative acts, whereby many serious impediments which had been raised by the parties in defense of their respective claims were removed. An earnest desire exists, and has been manifested on the part of this Government, to place the commerce with the colonies, likewise, on a footing of reciprocal advantage, and it is hoped that the British Government, seeing the justice of the proposal and its importance to the colonies, will ere long accede to it. The commissioners who were appointed for the adjustment of the boundary between the territories of the United States and those of Great Britain, specified in the 5th article of the treaty of Ghent, having disagreed in their decision, and both Governments having agreed to establish that boundary by amicable negotiation between them, it is hoped that it may be satisfactorily adjusted in that mode. The boundary specified by the 6th article has been established by the decision of the commissioners. From the progress made in that provided for by the 7th, according to a report recently received, there is good cause to presume that it will be settled in the course of the ensuing year. It is a cause of serious regret that no arrangement has yet been finally concluded between the two Governments to secure by joint cooperation the suppression of the slave trade. It was the object of the British Government in the early stages of the negotiation to adopt a plan for the suppression which should include the concession of the mutual right of search by the ships of war of each party of the vessels of the other for suspected offenders. This was objected to by this Government on the principle that as the right of search was a right of war of a belligerent toward a neutral power it might have an ill effect to extend it by treaty, to an offense which had been made comparatively mild, to a time of peace. Anxious, however, for the suppression of this trade, it was thought advisable, in compliance with a resolution of the House of Representatives, founded on an act of Congress, to propose to the British Government an expedient which should be free from that objection and more effectual for the object, by making it piratical. In that mode the enormity of the crime would place the offenders out of the protection of their Government, and involve no question of search or other question between the parties touching their respective rights. It was believed, also, that it would completely suppress the trade in the vessels of both parties, and by their respective citizens and subjects in those of other powers, with whom it was hoped that the odium which would thereby be attached to it would produce a corresponding arrangement, and by means thereof its entire extirpation forever. A convention to this effect was concluded and signed in London on March 13th, 1824, by plenipotentiaries duly authorized by both Governments, to the ratification of which certain obstacles have arisen which are not yet entirely removed. The difference between the parties still remaining has been reduced to a point not of sufficient magnitude, as is presumed, to be permitted to defeat an object so near to the heart of both nations and so desirable to the friends of humanity throughout the world. As objections, however, to the principle recommended by the House of Representatives, or at least to the consequences inseparable from it, and which are understood to apply to the law, have been raised, which may deserve a reconsideration of the whole subject, I have thought it proper to suspend the conclusion of a new convention until the definitive sentiments of Congress may be ascertained. The documents relating to the negotiation are with that intent submitted to your consideration. Our commerce with Sweden has been placed on a footing of perfect reciprocity by treaty, and with Russia, the Netherlands, Prussia, the free Hanseatic cities, the Dukedom of Oldenburg, and Sardinia by internal regulations on each side, founded on mutual agreement between the respective Governments. The principles upon which the commercial policy of the United States is founded are to be traced to an early period. They are essentially connected with those upon which their independence was declared, and owe their origin to the enlightened men who took the lead in our affairs at that important epoch. They are developed in their first treaty of commerce with France of February 6th, 1778, and by a formal commission which was instituted Immediately after the conclusion of their Revolutionary struggle, for the purpose of negotiating treaties of commerce with every European power. The first treaty of the United States with Prussia, which was negotiated by that commission, affords a signal illustration of those principles. The act of Congress of March 3rd, 1815, adopted immediately after the return of a general peace, was a new overture to foreign nations to establish our commercial relations with them on the basis of free and equal reciprocity. That principle has pervaded all the acts of Congress and all the negotiations of the Executive on the subject. A convention for the settlement of important questions in relation to the North West coast of this continent and its adjoining seas was concluded and signed at St. Petersburg on the 5th day of April last by the minister plenipotentiary of the United States and plenipotentiaries of the Imperial Government of Russia. It will immediately be laid before the Senate for the exercise of the constitutional authority of that body with reference to its ratification. It is proper to add that the manner in which this negotiation was invited and conducted on the part of the Emperor has been very satisfactory. The great and extraordinary changes which have happened in the Governments of Spain and Portugal within the last two years, without seriously affecting the friendly relations which under all of them have been maintained with those powers by the United States, have been obstacles to the adjustment of the particular subjects of discussion which have arisen with each. A resolution of the Senate adopted at their last session called for information as to the effect produced upon our relations with Spain by the recognition on the part of the United States of the independent South American Governments. The papers containing that information are now communicated to Congress. A charge d'affaires has been received from the independent Government of Brazil. That country, heretofore a colonial possession of Portugal, had some years since been proclaimed by the Sovereign of Portugal himself an independent Kingdom. Since his return to Lisbon a revolution in Brazil has established a new Government there with an imperial title, at the head of which is placed a prince, in whom the regency had been vested by the King at the time of his departure. There is reason to expect that by amicable negotiation the independence of Brazil will ere long be recognized by Portugal herself. With the remaining powers of Europe, with those on the coast of Barbary, and with all the new South American States our relations are of a friendly character. We have ministers plenipotentiary residing with the Republics of Colombia and Chile, and have received ministers of the same rank from Columbia, Guatemala, Buenos Ayres, and Mexico. Our commercial relations with all those States are mutually beneficial and increasing. With the Republic of Colombia a treaty of commerce has been formed, of which a copy is received and the original daily expected. A negotiation for a like treaty would have been commenced with Buenos Ayres had it not been prevented by the indisposition and lamented decease of Mr. Rodney, our minister there, and to whose memory the most respectful attention has been shewn by the Government of that Republic. An advantageous alteration in our treaty with Tunis has been obtained by our consular agent residing there, the official document of which when received will be laid before the Senate. The attention of the Government has been drawn with great solicitude to other subjects, and particularly to that relating to a state of maritime war, involving the relative rights of neutral and belligerent in such wars. Most of the difficulties which we have experienced and of the losses which we have sustained since the establishment of our independence have proceeded from the unsettled state of those rights and the extent to which the belligerent claim has been carried against the neutral party. It is impossible to look back on the occurrences of the late wars in Europe, and to behold the disregard which was paid to our rights as a neutral power, and the waste which was made of our commerce by the parties to those wars by various acts of their respective Governments, and under the pretext by each that the other had set the example, without great mortification and a fixed purpose never to submit to the like in future. An attempt to remove those causes of possible variance by friendly negotiation and on just principles which should be applicable to all parties could, it was presumed, be viewed by none other than as a proof of an earnest desire to preserve those relations with every power. In the late war between France and Spain a crisis occurred in which it seemed probable that all controvertible principles involved in such wars might be brought into discussion and settled to the satisfaction of all parties. Propositions having this object in view have been made to the Governments of Great Britain, France, Russia, and of other powers, which have been received in a friendly manner by all, but as yet no treaty has been formed with either for its accomplishment. The policy will, it is presumed, be persevered in, and in the hope that it may be successful. It will always be recollected that with one of the parties to those wars and from whom we received those injuries, we sought redress by war. From the other, by whose then reigning Government our vessels were seized in port as well as at sea and their cargoes confiscated, indemnity has been expected, but has not yet been rendered. It was under the influence of the latter that our vessels were likewise seized by the Governments of Spain, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, and Naples, and from whom indemnity has been claimed and is still expected, with the exception of Spain, by whom it has been rendered. With both parties we had abundant cause of war, but we had no alternative but to resist that which was most powerful at sea and pressed us nearest at home. With this all differences were settled by a treaty, founded on conditions fair and honorable to both, and which has been so far executed with perfect good faith. It has been earnestly hoped that the other would of its own accord, and from a sentiment of justice and conciliation, make to our citizens the indemnity to which they are entitled, and thereby remove from our relations any just cause of discontent on our side. It is estimated that the receipts into the Treasury during the current year, exclusive of loans, will exceed 18.5 millions, which, with the sum remaining in the Treasury at the end of the last year, amounting to 9,463,922.81 will, after discharging the current disbursements of the year, the interest on the public debt, and upward of 11,633,011.52 of the principal, leave a balance of more than 3 millions in the Treasury on the first day of January next. A larger amount of the debt contracted during the late war, bearing an interest of 6, becoming redeemable in the course of the ensuing year than could be discharged by the ordinary revenue, the act of the 26th of May authorized a loan of 5 millions at 4.5 to meet the same. By this arrangement an annual saving will accrue to the public of 75,000. Under the act of the 24th of May last a loan of 5 millions was authorized, In order to meet the awards under the Florida treaty, which was negotiated at par with the Bank of the United States at 4.5, the limit of interest fixed by the act. By this provision the claims of our citizens who had sustained so great a loss by spoliations, and from whom indemnity had been so long withheld, were promptly paid. For these advances the public will be amply repaid at no distant day by the sale of the lands in Florida. Of the great advantages resulting from the acquisition of the Territory in other respects too high an estimate can not be formed. It is estimated that the receipts into the Treasury during the year 1825 will be sufficient to meet the disbursements of the year, including the sum of 10 millions, which is annually appropriated by the act of constituting the sinking fund to the payment of the principal and interest of the public debt. The whole amount of the public debt on the first of January next may be estimated at 86 millions, inclusive of 2.5 millions of the loan authorized by the act of the 26th of May last. In this estimate is included a stock of 7 millions, issued for the purchase of that amount of the capital stock of the Bank of the United States, and which, as the stock of the bank still held by the Government will at least be fully equal to its reimbursement, ought not to be considered as constituting a part of the public debt. Estimating, then, the whole amount of the public debt at 79 millions and regarding the annual receipts and expenditures of the Government, a wellfounded hope may be entertained that, should no unexpected event occur, the whole of the public debt may be discharged in the course of ten years, and the Government be left at liberty thereafter to apply such portion of the revenue as may not be necessary for current expenses to such other objects as may be most conducive to the public security and welfare. That the sums applicable to these objects will be very considerable may be fairly concluded when it is recollected that a large amount of the public revenue has been applied since the late war to the construction of the public buildings in this city; to the erection of fortifications along the coast and of arsenals in different parts of the Union; to the augmentation of the Navy; to the extinguishment of the Indian title to large tracts of fertile territory; to the acquisition of Florida; to pensions to Revolutionary officers and soldiers, and to invalids of the late war. On many of these objects the expense will annually be diminished and cease at no distant period on most of them. On the 1st of January, 1817, the public debt amounted to 123,491,965.16, and, notwithstanding the large sums which have been applied to these objects, it has been reduced since that period 37,446,961.78. The last portion of the public debt will be redeemable on January 1st, 1835, and, while there is the best reason to believe that the resources of the Government will be continually adequate to such portions of it as may become due in the interval, it is recommended to Congress to seize every opportunity which may present itself to reduce the rate of interest on every part thereof. The high state of the public credit and the great abundance of money are at this time very favorable to such a result. It must be very gratifying to our fellow citizens to witness this flourishing state of the public finances when it is recollected that no burthen whatever has been imposed upon them. The military establishment in all its branches, in the performance of the various duties assigned to each, justifies the favorable view which was presented of the efficiency of its organization at the last session. All the appropriations have been regularly applied to the objects intended by Congress, and so far as the disbursements have been made the accounts have been rendered and settled without loss to the public. The condition of the Army itself, as relates to the officers and men, in science and discipline is highly respectable. The Military Academy, on which the Army essentially rests, and to which it is much indebted for this state of improvement, has attained, in comparison with any other institution of a like kind, a high degree of perfection. Experience, however, has shewn that the dispersed condition of the corps of artillery is unfavorable to the discipline of that important branch of the military establishment. To remedy this inconvenience, eleven companies have been assembled at the fortification erected at Old Point Comfort as a school for artillery instruction, with intention as they shall be perfected in the various duties of that service to order them to other posts, and, to supply their places with other companies for instruction in like manner. In this mode a complete knowledge of the science and duties of this arm will be extended throughout the whole corps of artillery. But to carry this object fully into effect will require the aid of Congress, to obtain which the subject is now submitted to your consideration. Of the progress which has been made in the construction of fortifications for the permanent defense of our maritime frontier, according to the plan decided on and to the extent of the existing appropriations, the report of the Secretary of War, which is herewith communicated, will give a detailed account. Their final completion can not fail to give great additional security to that frontier, and to diminish proportionably the expense of defending it in the event of war. The provisions in several acts of Congress of the last session for the improvement of the navigation of the Mississippi and the Ohio, of the harbor of Presqu'isle, on Lake Erie, and the repair of the Plymouth beach are in a course of regular execution; and there is reason to believe that the appropriation in each instance will be adequate to the object. To carry these improvements fully into effect, the superintendence of them has been assigned to officers of the Corps of Engineers. Under the act of 30th April last, authorizing the President to cause a survey to be made, with the necessary plans and estimates, of such roads and canals as he might deem of national importance in a commercial or military point of view, or for the transportation of the mail, a board has been instituted, consisting of two distinguished officers of the Corps of Engineers and a distinguished civil engineer, with assistants, who have been actively employed in carrying into effect the object of the act. They have carefully examined the route between the Potomac and the Ohio rivers; between the latter and Lake Erie; between the Alleghany and the Susquehannah; and the routes between the Delaware and the Raritan, Barnstable and Buzzards Bay, and between Boston Harbor and Narraganset Bay. Such portion of the Corps of Topographical Engineers as could be spared from the survey of the coast has been employed in surveying the very important route between the Potomac and the Ohio. Considerable progress has been made in it, but the survey can not be completed until the next season. It is gratifying to add, from the view already taken, that there is good cause to believe that this great national object may be fully accomplished. It is contemplated to commence early in the next season the execution of the other branch of the actthat which relates to roadsand with the survey of a route from this city, through the Southern States, to New Orleans, the importance of which can not be too highly estimated. All the officers of both the corps of engineers who could be spared from other services have been employed in exploring and surveying the routes for canals. To digest a plan for both objects for the great purposes specified will require a thorough knowledge of every part of our Union and of the relation of each part to the others and of all to the seat of the General Government. For such a digest it will be necessary that the information be full, minute, and precise. With a view to these important objects, I submit to the consideration of the Congress the propriety of enlarging both the corps of engineersthe military and topographical. It need scarcely be remarked that the more extensively these corps are engaged in the improvement of their country, in the execution of the powers of Congress, and in aid of the States in such improvements as lie beyond that limit, when such aid is desired, the happier the effect will be in many views of which the subject is perceptible. By profiting of their science the works will always be well executed, and by giving to the officers such employment our Union will derive all the advantage, in peace as well as in war, from their talents and services which they can afford. In this mode, also, the military will be incorporated with the civil, and unfounded and injurious distinctions and prejudices of every kind be done away. To the corps themselves this service can not fail to be equally useful, since by the knowledge they would thus acquire they would be eminently better qualified in the event of war for the great purposes for which they were instituted. Our relations with the Indian tribes within our limits have not been materially changed during the year. The hostile disposition evinced by certain tribes on the Missouri during the last year still continues, and has extended in some degree to those on the Upper Mississippi and the Upper Lakes. Several parties of our citizens have been plundered and murdered by those tribes. In order to establish relations of friendship with them, Congress at the last session made an appropriation for treaties with them and for the employment of a suitable military escort to accompany and attend the commissioners at the places appointed for the negotiations. This object has not been effected. The season was too far advanced when the appropriation was made and the distance too great to permit it, but measures have been taken, and all the preparations will be completed to accomplish it at an early period in the next season. Believing that the hostility of the tribes, particularly on the Upper Mississippi and the Lakes, is in no small degree owing to the wars which are carried on between the tribes residing in that quarter, measures have been taken to bring about a general peace among them, which, if successful, will not only tend to the security of our citizens, but be of great advantage to the Indians themselves. With the exception of the tribes referred to, our relations with all the others are on the same friendly footing, and it affords me great satisfaction to add that they are making steady advances in civilization and the improvement of their condition. Many of the tribes have already made great progress in the arts of civilized life. This desirable result has been brought about by the humane and persevering policy of the Government, and particularly by means of the appropriation for the civilization of the Indians. There have been established under the provisions of this act 32 schools, containing 916 scholars, who are well instructed in several branches of literature, and likewise in agriculture and the ordinary arts of life. Under the appropriation to authorize treaties with the Creeks and Quaupaw Indians commissioners have been appointed and negotiations are now pending, but the result is not yet known. For more full information respecting the principle which has been adopted for carrying into effect the act of Congress authorizing surveys, with plans and estimates for canals and roads, and on every other branch of duty incident to the Department of War, I refer you to the report of the Secretary. The squadron in the Mediterranean has been maintained in the extent which was proposed in the report of the Secretary of the Navy of the last year, and has afforded to our commerce the necessary protection in that sea. Apprehending, however, that the unfriendly relations which have existed between Algiers and some of the powers of Europe might be extended to us, it has been thought expedient to augment the force there, and in consequence the North Carolina, a ship of the line, has been prepared, and will sail in a few days to join it. The force employed in the Gulf of Mexico and in the neighboring seas for the suppression of piracy has likewise been preserved essentially in the state in which it was during the last year. A persevering effort has been made for the accomplishment of that object, and much protection has thereby been afforded to our commerce, but still the practice is far from being suppressed. From every view which has been taken of the subject it is thought that it will be necessary rather to augment than to diminish our force in that quarter. There is reason to believe that the piracies now complained of are committed by bands of robbers who inhabit the land, and who, by preserving good intelligence with the towns and seizing favorable opportunities, rush forth and fall on unprotected merchant vessels, of which they make an easy prey. The pillage thus taken they carry to their lurking places, and dispose of afterwards at prices tending to seduce the neighboring population. This combination is understood to be of great extent, and is the more to be deprecated because the crime of piracy is often attended with the murder of the crews, these robbers knowing if any survived their lurking places would be exposed and they be caught and punished. That this atrocious practice should be carried to such extent is cause of equal surprise and regret. It is presumed that it must be attributed to the relaxed and feeble state of the local governments, since it is not doubted, from the high character of the governor of Cuba, who is well known and much respected here, that if he had the power he would promptly suppress it. Whether those robbers should be pursued on the land, the local authorities be made responsible for these atrocities, or any other measure be resorted to to suppress them, is submitted to the consideration of Congress. In execution of the laws for the suppression of the slave trade a vessel has been occasionally sent from that squadron to the coast of Africa with orders to return thence by the usual track of the slave ships, and to seize any of our vessels which might be engaged in that trade. None have been found, and it is believed that none are thus employed. It is well known, however, that the trade still exists under other flags. The health of our squadron while at Thompsons Island has been much better during the present than it was the last season. Some improvements have been made and others are contemplated there which, it is believed, will have a very salutary effect. On the Pacific, our commerce has much increased, and on that coast, as well as on that sea, the United States have many important interests which require attention and protection. It is thought that all the considerations which suggested the expediency of placing a squadron on that sea operate with augmented force for maintaining it there, at least in equal extent. For detailed information respecting the state of our maritime force on each sea, the improvement necessary to be made on either in the organization of the naval establishment generally, and of the laws for its better government I refer you to the report of the Secretary of the Navy, which is herewith communicated. The revenue of the Post Office Department has received a considerable augmentation in the present year. The current receipts will exceed the expenditures, although the transportation of the mail within the year has been much increased. A report of the Post Master General, which is transmitted, will furnish in detail the necessary information respecting the administration and present state of this Department. In conformity with a resolution of Congress of the last session, an invitation was given to General Lafayette to visit the United States, with an assurance that a ship of war should attend at any port of France which he might designate, to receive and convey him across the Atlantic, whenever it might be convenient for him to sail. He declined the offer of the public ship from motives of delicacy, but assured me that he had long intended and would certainly visit our Union in the course of the present year. In August last he arrived at New York, where he was received with the warmth of affection and gratitude to which his very important and disinterested services and sacrifices in our Revolutionary struggle so eminently entitled him. A corresponding sentiment has since been manifested in his favor throughout every portion of our Union, and affectionate invitations have been given him to extend his visits to them. To these he has yielded all the accommodation in his power. At every designated point of rendezvous the whole population of the neighboring country has been assembled to greet him, among whom it has excited in a peculiar manner the sensibility of all to behold the surviving members of our Revolutionary contest, civil and military, who had shared with him in the toils and dangers of the war, many of them in a decrepit state. A more interesting spectacle, it is believed, was never witnessed, because none could be founded on purer principles, none proceed from higher or more disinterested motives. That the feelings of those who had fought and bled with him in a common cause should have been much excited was natural. There are, however, circumstances attending these interviews which pervaded the whole community and touched the breasts of every age, even the youngest among us. There was not an individual present who had not some relative who had not partaken in those scenes, nor an infant who had not heard the relation of them. But the circumstance which was most sensibly felt, and which his presence brought forcibly to the recollection of all, was the great cause in which we were engaged and the blessings which we have derived from our success in it. The struggle was for independence and liberty, public and personal, and in this we succeeded. The meeting with one who had borne so distinguished a part in that great struggle, and from such lofty and disinterested motives, could not fail to affect profoundly every individual and of every age. It is natural that we should all take a deep interest in his future welfare, as we do. His high claims on our Union are felt, and the sentiment universal that they should be met in a generous spirit. Under these impressions I invite your attention to the subject, with a view that, regarding his very important services, losses, and sacrifices, a provision may be made and tendered to him which shall correspond with the sentiments and be worthy the character of the American people. In turning our attention to the condition of the civilized world, in which the United States have always taken a deep interest, it is gratifying to see how large a portion of it is blessed with peace. The only wars which now exist within that limit are those between Turkey and Greece, in Europe, and between Spain and the new Governments, our neighbors, in this hemisphere. In both these wars the cause of independence, of liberty and humanity, continues to prevail. The success of Greece, when the relative population of the contending parties is considered, commands our admiration and applause, and that it has had a similar effect with the neighboring powers is obvious. The feeling of the whole civilized world is excited in a high degree in their favor. May we not hope that these sentiments, winning on the hearts of their respective Governments, may lead to a more decisive result; that they may produce an accord among them to replace Greece on the ground which she formerly held, and to which her heroic exertions at this day so eminently entitle her? With respect to the contest to which our neighbors are a party, it is evident that Spain as a power is scarcely felt in it. These new States had completely achieved their independence before it was acknowledged by the United States, and they have since maintained it with little foreign pressure. The disturbances which have appeared in certain portions of that vast territory have proceeded from internal causes, which had their origin in their former Governments and have not yet been thoroughly removed. It is manifest that these causes are daily losing their effect, and that these new States are settling down under Governments elective and representative in every branch, similar to our own. In this course we ardently wish them to persevere, under a firm conviction that it will promote their happiness. In this, their career, however, we have not interfered, believing that every people have a right to institute for themselves the government which, in their judgment, may suit them best. Our example is before them, of the good effect of which, being our neighbors, they are competent judges, and to their judgment we leave it, in the expectation that other powers will pursue the same policy. The deep interest which we take in their independence, which we have acknowledged, and in their enjoyment of all the rights incident thereto, especially in the very important one of instituting their own Governments, has been declared, and is known to the world. Separated as we are from Europe by the great Atlantic Ocean, we can have no concern in the wars of the European Governments nor in the causes which produce them. The balance of power between them, into whichever scale it may turn in its various vibrations, can not affect us. It is the interest of the United States to preserve the most friendly relations with every power and on conditions fair, equal, and applicable to all. But in regard to our neighbors our situation is different. It is impossible for the European Governments to interfere in their concerns, especially in those alluded to, which are vital, without affecting us; indeed, the motive which might induce such interference in the present state of the war between the parties, if a war it may be called, would appear to be equally applicable to us. It is gratifying to know that some of the powers with whom we enjoy a very friendly intercourse, and to whom these views have been communicated, have appeared to acquiesce in them. The augmentation of our population with the expansion of our Union and increased number of States have produced effects in certain branches of our system which merit the attention of Congress. Some of our arrangements, and particularly the judiciary establishment, were made with a view to the original thirteen States only. Since then the United States have acquired a vast extent of territory; eleven new States have been admitted into the Union, and Territories have been laid off for three others, which will likewise be admitted at no distant day. An organization of the Supreme Court which assigns the judges any portion of the duties which belong to the inferior, requiring their passage over so vast a space under any distribution of the States that may now be made, if not impracticable in the execution, must render it impossible for them to discharge the duties of either branch with advantage to the Union. The duties of the Supreme Court would be of great importance if its decisions were confined to the ordinary limits of other tribunals, but when it is considered that this court decides, and in the last resort, on all the great questions which arise under our Constitution, involving those between the United States individually, between the States and the United States, and between the latter and foreign powers, too high an estimate of their importance can not be formed. The great interests of the nation seem to require that the judges of the Supreme Court should be exempted from every other duty than those which are incident to that high trust. The organization of the inferior courts would of course be adapted to circumstances. It is presumed that such an one might be formed as would secure an able and faithful discharge of their duties, and without any material augmentation of expense. The condition of the aborigines within our limits, and especially those who are within the limits of any of the States, merits likewise particular attention. Experience has shown that unless the tribes be civilized they can never be incorporated into our system in any form whatever. It has likewise shown that in the regular augmentation of our population with the extension of our settlements their situation will become deplorable, if their extinction is not menaced. Some welldigested plan which will rescue them from such calamities is due to their rights, to the rights of humanity, and to the honor of the nation. Their civilization is indispensable to their safety, and this can be accomplished only by degrees. The process must commence with the infant state, through whom some effect may be wrought on the parental. Difficulties of the most serious character present themselves to the attainment of this very desirable result on the territory on which they now reside. To remove them from it by force, even with a view to their own security and happiness, would be revolting to humanity and utterly unjustifiable. Between the limits of our present States and Territories and the Rocky Mountains and Mexico there is a vast territory to which they might be invited with inducements which might be successful. It is thought if that territory should be divided into districts by previous agreement with the tribes now residing there and civil governments be established in each, with schools for every branch of instruction in literature and the arts of civilized life, that all the tribes now within our limits might gradually be drawn there. The execution of this plan would necessarily be attended with expense, and that not inconsiderable, but it is doubted whether any other can be devised which would be less liable to that objection or more likely to succeed. In looking to the interests which the United States have on the Pacific Ocean and on the western coast of this continent, the propriety of establishing a military post at the mouth of the Columbia River, or at some other point in that quarter within our acknowledged limits, is submitted to the consideration of Congress. Our commerce and fisheries on that sea and along the coast have much increased and are increasing. It is thought that a military post, to which our ships of war might resort, would afford protection to every interest, and have a tendency to conciliate the tribes to the North West, with whom our trade is extensive. It is thought also that by the establishment of such a post the intercourse between our Western States and Territories and the Pacific and our trade with the tribes residing in the interior on each side of the Rocky Mountains would be essentially promoted. To carry this object into effect the appropriation of an adequate sum to authorize the employment of a frigate, with an officer of the Corps of Engineers, to explore the mouth of the Columbia River and the coast contiguous thereto, to enable the Executive to make such establishment at the most suitable point, is recommended to Congress. It is thought that attention is also due to the improvement of this city. The communication between the public buildings and in various other parts and the grounds around those buildings require it. It is presumed also that the completion of the canal from the Tiber to the Eastern Branch would have a very salutary effect. Great exertions have been made and expenses incurred by the citizens in improvements of various kinds; but those which are suggested belong exclusively to the Government, or are of a nature to require expenditures beyond their resources. The public lots which are still for sale would, it is not doubted, be more than adequate for these purposes. From the view above presented it is manifest that the situation of the United States is in the highest degree prosperous and happy. There is no object which as a people we can desire which we do not possess or which is not within our reach. Blessed with governments the happiest which the world ever knew, with no distinct orders in society or divided interests in any portion of the vast territory over which their dominion extends, we have every motive to cling together which can animate a virtuous and enlightened people. The great object is to preserve these blessings, and to hand them down to the latest posterity. Our experience ought to satisfy us that our progress under the most correct and provident policy will not be exempt from danger. Our institutions form an important epoch in the history of the civilized world. On their preservation and in their utmost purity everything will depend. Extending as our interests do to every part of the inhabited globe and to every sea to which our citizens are carried by their industry and enterprise, to which they are invited by the wants of others, and have a right to go, we must either protect them in the enjoyment of their rights or abandon them in certain events to waste and desolation. Our attitude is highly interesting as relates to other powers, and particularly to our southern neighbors. We have duties to perform with regard to all to which we must be faithful. To every kind of danger we should pay the most vigilant and unceasing attention, remove the cause where it may be practicable, and be prepared to meet it when inevitable. Against foreign danger the policy of the Government seems to be already settled. The events of the late war admonished us to make our maritime frontier impregnable by a welldigested chain of fortifications, and to give efficient protection to our commerce by augmenting our Navy to a certain extent, which has been steadily pursued, and which it is incumbent upon us to complete as soon as circumstances will permit. In the event of war it is on the maritime frontier that we shall be assailed. It is in that quarter, therefore, that we should be prepared to meet the attack. It is there that our whole force will be called into action to prevent the destruction of our towns and the desolation and pillage of the interior. To give full effect to this policy great improvements will be indispensable. Access to those works by every practicable communication should be made easy and in every direction. The intercourse between every part of our Union should also be promoted and facilitated by the exercise of those powers which may comport with a faithful regard to the great principles of our Constitution. With respect to internal causes, those great principles point out with equal certainty the policy to be pursued. Resting on the people as our Governments do, State and National, with welldefined powers, it is of the highest importance that they severally keep within the limits prescribed to them. Fulfilling that sacred duty, it is of equal importance that the movement between them be harmonious, and in case of any disagreement, should any such occur, a calm appeal be made to the people, and that their voice be heard and promptly obeyed. Both Governments being instituted for the common good, we can not fail to prosper while those who made them are attentive to the conduct of their representatives and control their measures. In the pursuit of these great objects let a generous spirit and national views and feelings be indulged, and let every part recollect that by cherishing that spirit and improving the condition of the others in what relates to their welfare the general interest will not only be promoted, but the local advantage be reciprocated by all. I can not conclude this communication, the last of the kind which I shall have to make, without recollecting with great sensibility and heart felt gratitude the many instances of the public confidence and the generous support which I have received from my fellow citizens in the various trusts with which I have been honored. Having commenced my service in early youth, and continued it since with few and short intervals, I have witnessed the great difficulties to which our Union has been surmounted. From the present prosperous and happy state I derive a gratification which I can not express. That these blessings may be preserved and perpetuated will be the object of my fervent and unceasing prayers to the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. file made using scans of public domain works at the University of Georgia.) Transcriber's note: Many inconsistencies appeared in the original book and were retained in this version. THE Botanical Magazine; OR, FlowerGarden Displayed: IN WHICH The most Ornamental FOREIGN PLANTS, cultivated in the Open Ground, the GreenHouse, and the Stove, are accurately represented in their natural Colours. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, Their Names, Class, Order, Generic and Specific Characters, according to the celebrated LINNUS; their Places of Growth, and Times of Flowering: TOGETHER WITH THE MOST APPROVED METHODS OF CULTURE. A WORK Intended for the Use of such LADIES, GENTLEMEN, and GARDENERS, as wish to become scientifically acquainted with the Plants they cultivate. By WILLIAM CURTIS, Author of the FLORA LONDINENSIS. VOL. I \"A Garden is the purest of human Pleasures.\" VERULAM. LONDON: Printed by COUCHMAN and FRY, ThrogmortonStreet, For W. CURTIS, at his BOTANICGARDEN, LambethMarsh; And Sold by the principal Booksellers in GreatBritain and Ireland. M DCC XC. PREFACE. The present periodical publication owes its commencement to the repeated solicitations of several Ladies and Gentlemen, Subscribers to the Author's BOTANIC GARDEN, who were frequently lamenting the want of a work, which might enable them, not only to acquire a systematic knowledge of the Foreign Plants growing in their gardens, but which might at the same time afford them the best information respecting their culturein fact, a work, in which Botany and Gardening (so far as relates to the culture of ornamental Plants) or the labours of LINNUS and MILLER, might happily be combined. In compliance with their wishes, he has endeavoured to present them with the united information of both authors, and to illustrate each by a set of new figures, drawn always from the living plant, and coloured as near to nature, as the imperfection of colouring will admit. He does not mean, however, to confine himself solely to the Plants contained in the highly esteemed works of those luminaries of Botany and Gardening, but shall occasionally introduce new ones, as they may flower in his own garden, or those of the curious in any part of GreatBritain. At the commencement of this publication, he had no design of entering on the province of the Florist, by giving figures of double or improved Flowers, which sometimes owe their origin to culture, more frequently to the sportings of nature; but the earnest entreaties of many of his Subscribers, have induced him so far to deviate from his original intention, as to promise them one, at least, of the Flowers most esteemed by Florists. The encouragement given to this work, great beyond the Author's warmest expectations, demands his most grateful acknowledgements, and will excite him to persevere in his humble endeavours to render Botany a lasting source of rational amusement; and public utility. BOTANIC GARDEN, LambethMarsh, 1787. 1 Iris Persica. Persian Iris. Class and Order. Triandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla 6partita: Petalis alternis, reflexis. Stigmata petaliformia. Specific Character and Synonyms. IRIS Persica corolla imberbi, petalis interioribus brevissimis patentissimis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. p. 79. Sp. Pl. p. 59. IRIS bulbosa prcox minus odora Persica variegata. Moris. hist. 2. p. 357. XIPHIUM Persicum. Miller Dict. ed. 6. 4to. The Persian bulbous Flowerdeluce. Parkins. Parad. p. 172. Illustration: No 1 A native of Persia. Flowers in February and March. Its beauty, early appearance, and fragrant blossoms, make it highly esteemed by all lovers of flowers; like the Hyacinth or Narcissus it will blow within doors in a waterglass, but stronger in a small pot of sand, or sandy loam; a few flowers will scent a whole apartment: it will also blossom in the open air, but requires warmth and shelter; it is propagated by offsets and seeds; the best flowering roots are imported from Holland, they bear forcing well; and hence this plant may be had to flower a full month or six weeks in succession. PARKINSON remarks, that in his time (1629) it was very rare, and seldom bore flowers. 2 Rudbeckia purpurea. Purple Rudbeckia. Class and Order. Syngenesia Polygamia Frustranea. Generic Character. Receptaculum paleaceum, conicum. Pappus margine quadridentato. Calyx duplici ordine squamarum. Specific Character and Synonyms. RUDBECKIA purpurea foliis lanceolatoovatis alternis indivisis, radii petalis bifidis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. p. 651. Sp. Pl. p. 1280. DRACUNCULUS virginianus latifolius, petalis florum longissimis purpurascentibus. Moris. Hist. 3. p. 42. f. 6. t. 9. f. 1. Illustration: No 2 This species differs from the other plants of the genus, in the colour of its outermost petals, which are long, narrow, purple, and pendulous, and not unaptly resemble small pieces of red tape. Notwithstanding it is a native of the warm climates Carolina and Virginia, it succeeds very well with us in an open border: but, as Mr. MILLER very justly observes, it will always be prudent to shelter two or three plants under a common hotbed frame in winter, to preserve the kind, because in very severe winters, those in the open air are sometimes killed. It flowers in July. As it rarely ripens its seeds with us, the only mode of propagating it, is by parting the roots; but in that way the plant does not admit of much increase. 3 Helleborus hyemalis. Winter Hellebore, or Aconite. Class and Order. Polyandria PolygyniaA. Generic Character. Calyx 0. Petala 5 sive plura. Nectaria bilabiata, tubulata. Capsul polysperm erectiuscul. Specific Character and Synonyms. HELLEBORUS hyemalis flore folio infidente. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. p. 431. Sp. Pl. p. 783. ACONITUM unifolium bulbosum. Bauh. Pin. 183. The Winter's Wolfesbane. Park. Parad. p. 214. Illustration: No 3 Grows wild in Lombardy, Italy, and Austria, affects mountainous situations, flowers with us in February, and hence is liable to be cut off by severe frosts. \"Is propagated by offsets, which the roots send out in plenty. These roots may be taken up and transplanted any time after their leaves decay, which is generally by the beginning of June till October, when they will begin to put out new fibres; but as the roots are small and nearly the colour of the ground, so if care is not taken to search for them, many of the roots will be left in the ground. These roots should be planted in small clusters, otherwise they will not make a good appearance, for single flowers scattered about the borders of these small kinds are scarce seen at a distance; but when these and the Snowdrops are alternately planted in bunches, they will have a good effect, as they flower at the same time, and are much of a size.\" Millers Gard. Dict. Footnote A: Most of the Hellebores vary greatly in the number of their pistils, which in general are too few to justify the placing those plants in the order Polygynia. 4 Cyclamen Coum. Roundleav'd Cyclamen. Class and Order. Pentandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla rotata, reflexa, tubo brevissimo fauce prominente. Bacca tecta capsula. Specific Character and Synonyms. CYCLAMEN Coum foliis orbiculatis planis, pediculis brevibus, floribus minoribus. Miller's Dict. CYCLAMEN hyemale orbiculatis foliis inferius rubentibus purpurascente flore; Coum Herbariorum. Hort. reg. Paris. Herm. Cat. CYCLAMEN orbiculato folio inferne purpurascente. Bauh. Pin. p. 307. The common roundleav'd Sowebread. Park. Parad. p. 198. Illustration: No. 4 Grows wild in many parts of Italy and Germany, and is sometimes found with white flowers; if the season be mild, or the plants sheltered from the inclemency of the weather, this species will flower as early as February, or much earlier by artificial heat. As it grows naturally in woods and shady places, it will thrive best in a mixture of bogearth and loam placed in a north border; if planted in the open border, it will require to be covered with a handglass during winter, and in the spring, when in bloom; the more usual method with gardeners is to preserve them in pots in a common hotbed frame, the advantage of this method is that they may, at any time, be removed to decorate the parlour or the study. The plants of this genus admit of but little increase by their roots; the best method of propagating them is by seed, which should be sown soon after they are ripe in boxes or pots, and covered about half an inch deep, placing them where they may have only the morningsun, till the beginning of September, when they may be removed to a warmer exposure. 5 Erythronuim Dens Canis. DogsTooth, or DogsTooth Violet. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla 6petala, campanulata: Nectario tuberculis 2petalorum alternorum basi adnatis. Specific Character and Synonyms. ERYTHRONIUM Dens Canis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 269. Sp. Pl. p. 437. Dens Canis latiore rotundioreque folio. Bauh. Pin. 87. DogsTooth with a pale purple flower. Park. Parad. p. 194. Illustration: No. 5 Of this genus Mr. Miller makes two species; Linnus, perhaps with more propriety, only one, for breadth of leaves or colour of flowers can scarcely be considered as sufficient to constitute a specific difference. It is found in the gardens with purple flowers of two different tints, also with white and yellow blossoms, grows naturally in Hungary and some parts of Italy, and blows in the open border at the beginning of April. \"They are propagated by offsets from their roots. They love a shady situation and a gentle loamy soil, but should not be too often removed. They may be transplanted any time after the beginning of June, when their leaves will be quite decayed, till the middle of September; but the roots should not be kept very long out of the ground, for if they shrink it will often cause them to rot. The roots of these flowers should not be planted scattering in the borders of the flowergarden, but in patches near each other, where they will make a good appearance.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. 6 Narcissus Minor. Least Daffodil. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Petala 6, qualia: Nectario infundibuliformi, 1phyllo. Stamina intra nectarium. Specific Character and Synonyms. NARCISSUS minor spatha uniflora, nectario obconico erecto crispo sexfido quante petala lanceolata. Lin. Sp. Pl. p. 415. Syst. Vegetab. p. 262. NARCISSUS parvus totus luteus. Bauhin. Pin. 53. The least Spanish yellow bastard Daffodil. Park. Parad. p. 105. Illustration: No. 6 We are not a little surprised that Mr. Miller should have taken no notice of the present species, as it must have been in the English gardens long before his time, being mentioned by Parkinson in his Garden of pleasant Flowers: it is nearly related to the PseudoNarcissus, but differs from it in many particulars except size, vid. Lin. Sp. Pl. and Parkinson above quoted. Though its blossoms are not so large as those of the other species, yet when the roots are planted in a cluster, they make a very pretty shew, and have this advantage, that they flower somewhat earlier than any of the others. Like the common Daffodil it propagates very fast by the roots, and will thrive in almost any soil or situation. Though a native of Spain, it is seldom injured by the severity of our climate. 7 Cynoglossum Omphalodes. Blue Navelwort. Class and Order. Pentandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla infundibuliformis, fauce clausa fornicibus. Semina depressa interiore tantum latere stylo affixa. Specific Character and Synonyms. CYNOGLOSSUM Omphalodes repens, foliis radicalibus cordatisB, Lin. Sp. Pl. p. 193. Syst. Vegetab. p. 157. Scopoli Fl. Carn. p. 124. t. 3. SYMPHYTUM minus borraginis facie. Bauh. Pin. 259. BORAGO minor verna repens, folio lvi. Moris. hist. 3. p. 437. s. 11, t. 26. fig. 3. Illustration: No. 7 A native of Spain, Portugal, and Carniola, and an inhabitant of woods and shady situations, flowers in March and April: in the autumn it puts forth trailing shoots, which take root at the joints, whereby the plant is most plentifully propagated; thrives best under a wall in a North border. Footnote B: \"Stolones repunt non caulis florifer, cui folia ovalia, et minime cordata. TOURNEFORTIUS separavit a SYMPHITO, et dixit OMPHALLODEM pumilam vernam, symphyti folio, sed bene monet LINNUS solam fructus asperitatem aut glabritiem, non sufficere ad novum genus construendum.\" Scopoli Fl. Carn. p. 124. 8 Helleborus Niger. Black Hellebore, or Christmas Rose. Class and Order. Polyandria Polygynia. Generic Character. Calyx nullus. Petala 5 sive plura. Nectaria bilabiata, tubulata. Capsul polysperm, erectiuscul. Specific Character and Synonyms. HELLEBORUS niger scapo subbifloro subnudo, foliis pedatis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 431. Sp. Pl. p. 783. HELLEBORUS niger flore roseo, Bauh. Pin. 186. The true Black Hellebore, or Christmas flower. Parkins. Parad. p. 344. Illustration: No. 8 As our Publication seems likely to fall into the hands of such as are totally unacquainted with Botany, or botanical writings, it must plead as an apology for our often explaining many circumstances relative to plants, which may be well known to adepts in the science. This plant derives its first name from the black colour of its roots, its second from its early flowering, and the colour of its petals, which though generally milkwhite on their first appearance, yet have frequently a tint of red in them, which increases with the age of the blossom and finally changes to green; in some species of Hellebore, particularly the viridis, the flower is green from first to last. Black Hellebore grows wild on the Appenine and other mountains, preferring such as are rocky. If the weather be unusually mild, it will flower in our gardens, in the open border, as early as December and January; it may indeed be considered as the herald of approaching spring. Like most other alpine plants, it loves a pure air, a situation moderately moist, and a soil unmanured: as the beauty of its flowers is apt to be destroyed by severe frosts, it should be covered during the winter with a handglass, or if it be treated in the manner recommended for the roundleav'd Cyclamen, it may be had to flower in still greater perfection. It is propagated by parting its roots in autumn: neither this species nor the hyemalis thrive very near London. 9 Iris pumila. Dwarf Iris. Class and Order. Triandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla sexpartita: Petalis alternis, reflexis. Stigmata petaliformia. Specific Character and Synonyms. IRIS pumila corollis barbatis, caule foliis breviore unifloro. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 78. Sp. Plant. p. 56. Jacq. Fl. Austr. t. 1. CHAMIRIS minor flore purpureo. Bauh. Pin. 33. The lesser purple dwarf Flowerdeluce. Park. Parad. p. 186. Illustration: No. 9 Gardeners, in former days, not having that profusion of plants to attend to and cultivate, which we can at present boast, appear to have been more solicitous in increasing generally the varieties of the several species; accordingly, we find in the Paradisus terrestris of the venerable PARKINSON, no less than six varieties of this plantC, most of which are now strangers to the Nursery Gardens. We may observe, that varieties in general not being so strong as the original plant, are consequently much sooner lost. The Iris pumila grows wild in many parts of Hungary, affects open and hilly situations, and flowers in our gardens in the month of April; it is a very hardy plant, and will thrive in almost any soil or situation; is propagated by parting its roots in autumn. Footnote C: The lesser purple dwarf Flowerdeluce with white blossoms,       straw colour ditto.       pale blue ditto.       blushcoloured ditto.       yellow variable ditto.       blue variable ditto, and the purple dwarf Sea Flowerdeluce of the same author, is probably no other than a variety. 10 Anemone Hepatica. Hepatica, or Noble Liverwort. Class and Order. Polyandria Polygynia. Generic Character. Calyx nullus. Petala 6. 9. Semina plura. Specific Character and Synonyms. ANEMONE Hepatica foliis trilobis integerrimis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 424. Sp. Pl. p. 758. Fl. Suec. n. 480. TRIFOLIUM hepaticum flore simplici et pleno. Bauh. Pin. 339. Red Hepatica or noble Liverwort. Park. Parad. p. 226. Illustration: No. 10 Dillenius, Miller, and some other authors, make a distinct genus of the Hepatica: Linnus unites it with the Anemone, observing, that though it differs from the Anemone in having a calyx, yet that calyx is at some distance from the flower, and partakes more of the Nature of an Involucrum, which is not uncommon to the Anemonies. The Hepaticas, as Parkinson observes, flower soon after the winter Hellebore, \"and making their pride appear in winter, are the more welcome early guests.\" It is found wild in its single state, with red, blue, and white flowers, in the woods and shady mountains of Sweden, Germany, and Italy; the red variety with double flowers is the one most commonly cultivated in our gardens; the double blue is also not unfrequent; the single white is less common; and the double white Miller never saw, yet admits that it may exist spontaneously, or be produced from seed: Parkinson mentions a white variety with red threads or stamina. According to Miller, this plant delights in a loamy soil, and in an eastern position where it may have only the morning sun: the single sorts are easily raised from seed; the double, increased by parting the roots, which ought to be done in March when they are in bloom; they should not be divided into very small heads: these plants, if often removed and parted, are apt to die, but left undisturbed for many years, they will thrive exceedingly, and become very large roots. 11 Erica herbacea. Herbaceous Heath. Class and Order. Octandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Calyx 4phyllus. Corolla 4fida. Filamenta receptaculo inserta. Anther bifid. Capsula 4locularis. Specific Character and Synonyms. ERICA herbacea antheris muticis exsertis, corollis oblongis, stylo exserto, foliis quaternis, floribus secundis, Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 306. carnea Sp. Pl. ed. 3. p. 504. ERICA carnea. Jacq. Fl. Austr. v. 1. tab. 32 ERICA procumbens herbacea. Bauh. Pin. p. 486. Illustration: No. 11 Since the days of Mr. Miller, who, with all his imperfections, has contributed more to the advancement of practical gardening than any individual whatever, our gardens, but more especially our greenhouses, have received some of their highest ornaments from the introduction of a great number of most beautiful Heaths: the present plant, though a native of the Alps and mountainous parts of Germany, is of modern introduction here, what renders it particularly acceptable, is its hardiness and early flowering; its blossoms are formed in the autumn, continue of a pale green colour during the winter, and expand in the spring, flowering as early as March, especially if kept in a greenhouse, or in a common hotbed frame, which is the more usual practice. It may be propagated by seeds or cuttings, the latter is the most ready way of increasing this and most of the other species of the genus: when the cuttings have struck root, they should be planted in a mixture of fresh loam and bog earth, either in the open border, under a wall, or in pots. The name of herbacea, which Linnus has given to this plant, is not very characteristic, but it should be observed, that Linnus in this, as in many other instances, has only adopted the name of some older botanist; and it should also be remembered, that in genera, where the species are very numerous, it is no easy matter to give names to all of them that shall be perfectly expressive. This species does not appear to us to be specifically different from the mediterranea. 12 Dodecatheon Meadia. Mead's Dodecatheon, or American Cowslip. Class and Order. Pentandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla rotata, reflexa. Stamina tubo insidentia. Capsula unilocularis, oblonga. Specific Character and Synonyms. DODECATHEON Meadia. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 163. Sp. Plant. p. 163. MEADIA Catesb. Car. 3. p. 1. t. 1. Trew. Ehret. t. 12. AURICULA ursi virginiana floribus boraginis instar rostratis, cyclaminum more reflexis. Pluk. alm. 62. t. 79. f. 6. Illustration: No. 12 This plant grows spontaneously in Virginia and other parts of North America, from whence, as Miller informs us, it was sent by Mr. Banister to Dr. Compton, Lord Bishop of London, in whose curious garden he first saw it growing in the year 1709. It is figured by Mr. Catesby, in his Natural History of Carolina, among the natural productions of that country, who bestowed on it the name of Meadia, in honour of the late Dr. Mead, a name which Linnus has not thought proper to adopt as a generic, though he has as a trivial one. \"It flowers the beginning of May, and the seeds ripen in July, soon after which the stalks and leaves decay, so that the roots remain inactive till the following spring. \"It is propagated by offsets, which the roots put out freely when they are in a loose moist soil and a shady situation; the best time to remove the roots, and take away the offsets, is in August, after the leaves and stalks are decayed, that they may be fixed well in their new situation before the frost comes on. It may also be propagated by seeds, which the plants generally produce in plenty; these should be sown in autumn, soon after they are ripe, either in a shady moist border, or in pots, which should be placed in the shade; in the spring, the plants will come up, and must then be kept clean from weeds; and, if the season proves dry, they must be frequently refreshed with water: nor should they be exposed to the sun; for while the plants are young, they are very impatient of heat, so that I have known great numbers of them destroyed in two or three days, which were growing to the full sun. These young plants should not be transplanted till the leaves are decayed, then they may be carefully taken up and planted in a shady border, where the soil is loose and moist, at about eight inches distance from each other, which will be room enough for them to grow one year, by which time they will be strong enough to produce flowers, so may then be transplanted into some shady borders in the flowergarden, where they will appear very ornamental during the continuance of their flowers.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. 13 Coronilla glauca. Seagreen, or Daysmelling Coronilla. Class and Order. Diadelphia Decandria. Generic Character. Calyx bilabiatus: 23: dentibus superioribus connatis. Vexillum vix alis longius. Legumen isthmis interceptum. Specific Character and Synonyms. CORONILLA glauca fruticosa, foliolis septenis, obtusissimis, stipulis lanceolatis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. p. 557. Sp. Pl. 1047. CORONILLA maritima, glauco folio. Tournef. inst. 650. COLUTEA scorpioides maritima, glauco folio. Bauh. Pin. 397. prodr. 157. Illustration: No. 13 This charming shrub, which is almost perpetually in blossom, and admirably adapted for nosegays, is a native of the south of France, and a constant ornament to our greenhouses. Linnus has observed, that the flowers, which in the day time are remarkably fragrant, in the night are almost without scent. \"It is propagated by sowing the seeds in the spring, either upon a gentle hotbed, or on a warm border of light earth: when the plants are come up about two inches high, they should be transplanted either into pots, or into a bed of fresh earth, at about four or five inches distance every way, where they may remain until they have obtained strength enough to plant out for good, which should be either in pots filled with good fresh earth, or in a warm situated border, in which, if the winter is not too severe, they will abide very well, provided they are in a dry soil.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. 14 Primula villosa. Mountain Primula. Class and Order. Pentandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Involucrum umbellul. Coroll tubus cylindricus: ore patulo. Specific Character and Synonyms. PRIMULA villosa foliis obovatis dentatis villosis, scapo brevissimo multifloro. PRIMULA villosa. Jacquin Fl. Austr. app. t. 27. Illustration: No. 14 Mr. Miller, in the Sixth Edition of the Abridgment of his Gardener's Dictionary, mentions only four Primulas, exclusive of the Auricula, the two first of which are named erroneously, and of the two last not a syllable is said either as to their place of growth or culture. The plant here figured, has been introduced pretty generally into the NurseryGardens in the neighboured of London within these few years: Mr. Salisbury informs me, that a variety of this plant with white flowers, brought originally from the Alps of Switzerland, has for many years been cultivated in a garden in Yorkshire. It is not noticed by Linnus: Professor Jacquin, in his Flora Austriaca, has figured and described a Primula, which, though not agreeing so minutely as could be wished with the one we have figured, is nevertheless considered by some of the first Botanists in this country as the same species; he gives it the name of villosa, which we adopt, though with us it is so slightly villous as scarcely to deserve that epithet. It varies in the brilliancy of its colours, flowers in April, and will succeed with the method of culture recommended for the RoundLeaved Cyclamen. 15 Narcissus Jonquilla. Common Jonquil. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Petala sex. Nectario infundibuliformi, monophyllo. Stamina intra nectarium. Specific Character and Synonyms. NARCISSUS Jonquilla spatha multiflora, nectario hemisphrico crenato, breviore petalis, foliis semiteretibus. Lin. Spec. Pl. p. 417. Illustration: No. 15 The fragrant Jonquil is a native of Spain, flowers in the open ground, about the latterend of April, or beginning of May, and will thrive in almost any soil or situation, but prefers, as most bulbs do, a fresh loamy earth; indeed such a soil is favourable to the growth of most plants, as being exempt from a variety of subterraneous insects, which are apt to infest ground which has been long cultivated. It is found in the gardens with double flowers. Our plant accords exactly with the description of Linnus, above quoted, but must be carefully distinguished from some others very similar to it. 16 Iris variegata. Variegated Iris. Class and Order. Triandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla 6partita; Petalis alternis, reflexis. Stigmata petaliformia. Specific Character and Synonyms. IRIS variegata corollis barbatis, caule subfolioso longitudine foliorum multifloro. Linn. Spec. Pl. p. 56. IRIS latifolia pannonica, colore multiplici. Bauh. Pin. 31. The yellow variable FlowerdeLuce. Parkinson Parad. p. 182. Illustration: No. 16 This species of Iris, inferior to few in point of beauty, is a native of the hilly pastures of Hungary, and flowers in our gardens in the month of May, and beginning of June. It is a hardy perennial, requires no particular treatment, and may be easily propagated by parting its roots in Autumn. 17 Cactus flagelliformis. Creeping Cereus. Class and Order. Icosandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Calyx 1phyllus, superus, imbricatus. Corolla multiplex. Bacca 1locularis, polysperma. Specific Character. CACTUS flagelliformis repens decemangularis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14 p. 460. CEREUS flagelliformis. Miller's Gard. Dict. ed. 6. 4to. Illustration: No. 17 Grows spontaneously in SouthAmerica, and the WestIndies, flowers in our dry stoves early in June, is tolerably hardy, and will thrive even in a common greenhouse, that has a flue to keep out the severe frosts. It is superior to all its congeners in the brilliancy of its colour, nor are its blossoms so fugacious as many of the other species. No plant is more easily propagated by cuttings; these Miller recommends to be laid by in a dry place for a fortnight, or three weeks, then to be planted in pots, filled with a mixture of loam and lime rubbish, having some stones laid in the bottom of the pot to drain off the moisture, and afterwards plunged into a gentle hotbed of Tanners bark, to facilitate their rooting, giving them once a week a gentle watering: this business to be done the beginning of July. It is seldom that this plant perfects its seeds in this country: Miller relates that it has borne fruit in Chelsea gardens. 18 Geranium Reichardi. Dwarf Geranium. Class and Order. Monadelphia Decandria. General Character. Monogynia. Stigmata 5. Fructus rostratus, 5coccus. Specific Character and Synonyms. GERANIUM Reichardi scapis unifloris, floribus pentandris, foliis subreniformibus incisocrenatis. GERANIUM Reichardi scapis unifloris, foliis plerisque oblongis trilobis vel quinquelobis incisocrenatis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. ed. Murr. 14. p. 618. Illustration: No. 18 This species of Geranium, so strikingly different from all others at present cultivated in our gardens, has been known for several years to the Nurserymen in the neighbourhood of London, by the name of acaule, a name we should gladly have retained, had not Professor Murray described it in the 14th edition of Linnus's Systema Vegetabilium, under the name of Reichardi, a name he was disposed to give it in compliment to a French gentleman, who first discovered it in the island of Minorca, and introduced it into the gardens of France. Linnus describes many of the Geraniums, as having only five anther, though several of those he thus describes have to our certain knowledge ten, the five lowermost of which shedding their pollen first, often drop off, and leave the filaments apparently barren: but in this species (with us at least) there never are more than five, but betwixt each stamen, there is a broad pointed barren filament or squamula, scarcely to be distinguished by the naked eye. The usual and best practice is to make a greenhouse plant of this species, though it has been known to remain in the open ground, during a mild winter, unhurt. It continues to have a succession of blossoms during the greatest part of the summer, and may be propagated either by seed or parting its roots. 19 Hemerocallis Flava. Yellow Daylily. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla campanulata, tubus cylindraceus. Stamina declinata. Specific Character and Synonyms. HEMEROCALLIS flava foliis linearisubulatis carinatis, corollis flavis. Linn. Syst. Veg. ed. 14. p. 339. LILIUM luteum, asphodeli radice. Bauh. Pin. 80. The Yellow DayLily. Parkins. Parad. p. 148. Illustration: No. 19 This Genus has been called Hemerocallis, in English, DayLily, from the short duration of its blossoms, but these are not quite so fugacious in this species as in the fulva. It very rarely happens that Linnus, in his specific character of a plant, has recourse to colour, he has however in this instance; but this seems to arise from his considering them rather as varieties, than species. To us they appear to be perfectly distinct, and in addition to several other characters, the flava is distinguished by the fragrance of its blossoms. This species is an inhabitant of Hungary and Siberia, and consequently bears our climate exceedingly well; it requires a moist soil, and a situation somewhat shady, and is easily propagated by parting its roots in autumn. 20 Geranium Peltatum. IvyLeaved Geranium. Class and Order. Monadelphia Decandria. Generic Character. Monogyna. Stigmata quinque. Fructus rostratus. 5coccus. Specific Character. GERANIUM peltatum calycibus monophyllis, foliis quinquelobis integerrimis glabris subpeltatis, caule fruticoso. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14. p. 613. GERANIUM africanum, foliis inferioribus asari, superioribus staphidisagri maculatis splendentibus et acetos sapore. Comm. Prl. 52. t. 2. Illustration: No. 20 A native of Africa, as are most of our shewy Geraniums, is not so tender as many others, and may be propagated very readily from cuttings. A leaf, having its footstalk inserted into the disk or middle part of it, or near it, is called by Linnus, peltatum, hence the Latin trivial name of this plant. It may be observed, however, that some of the leaves have this character more perfectly than others. The African Geraniums differ much from the European, in the irregularity of their Petals, but exhibit the character of the Class Monadelphia much better than any of our English ones, having their filaments manifestly united into one body; this species has only 7 filaments bearing anther, but 3 barren ones may be discovered upon a careful examination, which makes it of the order Decandria. 21 Iris Versicolor. Particoloured Iris. Class and Order. Triandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla 6petala, inqualis, petalis alternis geniculatopatentibus. Stigmata petaliformia, cucullatobilabiata. Conf. Thunb. Dis. de Iride. Specific Character and Synonyms. IRIS versicolor imberbis foliis ensiformibus, scapo tereti flexuoso, germinibus subtrigonis. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14. Murr. p. 90. Sp. Plant. ed. 3. p. 57. IRIS Americana versicolor stylo crenato. Dill. Elth. 188. 1. 155. f. 188. Illustration: No. 21 A native of Virginia, Maryland, and Pensylvania, has a perennial root, is hardy, and will thrive in almost any soil or situation; may be increased by parting its roots in autumn. Our plant is the picta of Miller, and the versicolor of Miller is, we believe, the sibirica of Linnus. This species has, for the most part, a stalk unusually crooked or elbowed, by which it is particularly distinguished. It flowers in June, as do most of this beautiful tribe. 22 Nigella damascena. Garden Fennelflower, Love in a mist, Devil in a Bush. Class and Order. Polyandria Pentagynia. Generic Character. Cal. nullus. Petala 5. Nectaria 5. trifida, intra corollam. Capsul 5 connex. Specific Character and Synonyms. NIGELLA damascena floribus involucro folioso cinctis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14. Murr. p. 506. Sp. Pl. p. 753. NIGELLA angustifolia, flore majore simplici cruleo. Bauh. Pin. 145. The great Spanish Nigella. Park. Parad. p. 287. Illustration: No. 22 Is an annual, and grows wild among the corn in the southern parts of Europe; varies with white and blue flowers, both single and double. \"May be propagated by sowing their seeds upon a bed of light earth, where they are to remain (for they seldom succeed well if transplanted); therefore, in order to have them intermixed among other annual flowers in the borders of the Flower Garden, the seeds should be sown in patches at proper distances: and when the plants come up, they must be thinned where they grow too close, leaving but three or four of them in each patch, observing also to keep them clear from weeds, which is all the culture they require. In July they will produce their flowers, and their seeds will ripen in August. \"The season for sowing these seeds is in March; but if you sow some of them in August, soon after they are ripe, upon a dry soil and in a warm situation, they will abide through the winter, and flower strong the succeeding year; by sowing of the seeds at different times, they may be continued in beauty most parts of the summer.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. ed. 6. 4to. 23 Tropolum majus. Greater IndianCress, or Nasturtium. Class and Order. Octandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Calyx 1phyllus, calcaratus. Petala 5 in qualia. Bacc tres, sicc. Specific Character and Synonyms. TROPOLUM majus foliis peltatis subquinquelobis, petalis obtusis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14. Murr. p. 357. Sp. Pl. p. 490. CARDAMINDUM ampliori folio et majori flore. Grande Capucine Tournef. Inst. p. 430. Illustration: No. 23 The present plant is a native of Peru, and is said by Linnus to have been first brought into Europe in the year 1684; it is certainly one of the greatest ornaments the FlowerGarden can boast: it varies in colour, and is also found in the Nurseries with double flowers. The former, as is well known, is propagated by seed; the latter by cuttings, which should be struck on a hotbed. To have these plants early, they should be raised with other tender annuals; they usually begin to flower in July, and continue blossoming till the approach of winter: the stalks require to be supported, for if left to themselves they trail on the ground, overspread, and destroy the neighbouring plants. Elizabeth Christina, one of the daughters of Linnus, is said to have perceived the flowers to emit spontaneously, at certain intervals, sparks like those of electricity, visible only in the dusk of the evening, and which ceased when total darkness came on. The flowers have the taste of watercress, with a degree of sweetness, which that plant does not possess, more particularly resident in the spur of the calyx or nectary; hence are sometimes used in sallads, and hence the plant acquires its name of Nasturtium. 24 Agrostemma coronaria. Rose Cockle, or Campion. Class and Order. Decandria Pentagynia. Generic Character. Calyx 1phyllus, coriaceus. Petala 5 unguiculata: limbo obtuso, indiviso. Caps. 1locularis. Specific Character and Synonyms. AGROSTEMMA coronaria tomentosa, foliis ovatolanceolatis, petalis emarginatis coronatis serratis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. ed. 14. Murr. p. 435. Sp. Pl. p. LYCHNIS coronaria dioscoridis sativa. Bauh. Pin. 203. The single red Rose Campion. Parkins. Parad. p. 252. Illustration: No. 24 Grows spontaneously in Italy and Siberia; Linnus informs us that the blossom is naturally white, with red in the middle. \"The single Rose Campion has been long an inhabitant of the English gardens, where, by its seeds having scattered, it is become a kind of weed. There are three varieties of this plant, one with deep red, another with fleshcoloured, and a third with white flowers, but these are of small esteem, for the double Rose Campion being a finer flower, has turned the others out of most fine gardens. The single sorts propagate fast enough by the seeds, the sort with double flowers never produces any, so is only propagated by parting of the roots; the best time for this is in autumn, after their flowers are past; in doing of this, every head which can be slipped off with roots should be parted; these should be planted in a border of fresh undunged earth, at the distance of six inches, observing to water them gently until they have taken root, after which they will require no more, for much wet is injurious to them, as is also dung. After the heads are well rooted, they should be planted into the borders of the FlowerGarden, where they will be very ornamental during the times of their flowering, which is in July and August.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. ed. 6. 4to. Miller, by mistake, calls this plant Clirosa. 25 Dianthus chinensis. China or Indian Pink. Class and Order. Decandria Digynia. Generic Character. Calyx cylindricus, 1phyllus: basi squamis 4. Petala 5, unguiculata. Capsula cylindrica, 1locularis. Specific Character and Synonyms. DIANTHUS chinensis floribus solitariis, squamis calycinis subulatis patulis, tubum quantibus, corollis crenatis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 418. Sp. Pl. 588. CARYOPHYLLUS sinensis supinus, leucoji folio, flore unico. Tournef. act. 1705. p. 348. f. 5. Illustration: No. 25 This species, unknown to the older botanists, is a native of China, hence its name of China Pink; but, in the nurseries, it is in general better known by the name of Indian Pink. Though it cannot boast the agreeable scent of many of its congeners, it eclipses most of them in the brilliancy of its colours; there are few flowers indeed which can boast that richness and variety found among the most improved varieties of this species; and as these are easily obtained from seed, so they are found in most collections, both single and double. It is little better than an annual, but will sometimes continue two years in a dry soil, which it affects. Attempts have been made to force it, but, as far as we have learned, with no great success. 26 Stapelia variegata. Variegated Stapelia. Class and Order. Pentandria Digynia. Generic Character. Contorta. Nectarium duplici stellula tegente genitalia. Specific Character and Synonyms. STAPELIA variegata denticulis ramorum patentibus. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 260. Sp. Pl. p. 316. ASCLEPIAS aizoides africana. Bradl. suc. 3. p. 3. t. 22. Illustration: No. 26 This very singular plant is a native of the Cape of Good Hope, where it grows and flourishes on the rocks with the Stapelia hirsuta. If these plants be kept in a very moderate stove in winter, and in summer placed in an airy glasscase where they may enjoy much free air, but screened from wet and cold, they will thrive and flower very well; for although they will live in the open air in summer, and may be kept through the winter in a good greenhouse; yet these plants will not flower so well as those managed in the other way. They must have little water given them, especially in winter. It is very seldom that the variegata produces seedvessels in this country; MILLER observes, in upwards of forty years that he cultivated it, he never saw it produce its pods but three times, and then on such plants only as were plunged into the tanbed in the stove. This plant may be propagated without seeds, as it grows fast enough from slips; treatment the same as that of the Creeping Cereus, which see. It takes its name of Stapelia from Stapel, a Dutchman, author of some botanical works, particularly a Description of Theophrastus's plants. 27 Convolvulus tricolor. Small Convolvulus or Bindweed. Class and Order. Pentandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Corolla campanulata, plicata. Stigmata 2. Capsula 2locularis: loculis dispermis. Specific Character and Synonyms. CONVOLVULUS tricolor foliis lanceolato ovatis glabris, caule declinato, floribus solitariis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 203. Sp. Pl. p. 225. CONVOLVULUS peregrinus cruleus, folio oblongo. Bauh. Pin. 295. Flore triplici colore insignito. Moris. hist. 2. p. 17. s. 1. t. 4. f. 4. The Spanish Small Blew Bindeweede. Parkins. Parad. p. 4. Illustration: No. 27 This species has usually been called Convolvulus minor by gardeners, by way of distinguishing it from the Convolvulus purpureus, to which they have given the name of major. It is a very pretty annual; a native of Spain, Portugal, and Sicily, and very commonly cultivated in gardens. The most usual colours of its blossoms are blue, white, and yellow, whence its name of tricolor; but there is a variety of it with white, and another with striped blossoms. The whole plant with us is in general hairy, hence it does not well accord with LINNUS'S description. It is propagated by seeds, which should be sown on the flowerborders in the spring, where the plants are to remain: they require no other care than to be thinned and weeded. 28 Passiflora coerulea. Common PassionFlower. Class and order. Gynandria Hexandria. Generic Character. Trigyna. Cal. 5phyllus. Petala 5. Nectarium corona. Bacca pedicellata. Specific Character and Synonyms. PASSIFLORA coerulea foliis palmatis integerrimis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 823. Sp. Pl. p. 1360. GRANADILLA polyphyllos, fructu ovato. Tourn. inst. 241. FLOS PASSIONIS major pentaphyllus. Sloan. Jam. 104. hist. 1. p. 229. Illustration: No. 28 The PassionFlower first introduced into this country was the incarnata of Linnus, a native of Virginia, and figured by Parkinson in his Paradisus Terrestris, who there styles it the surpassing delight of all flowers: the present species, which, from its great beauty and superior hardiness, is now by far the most common, is of more modern introduction; and, though a native of the Brasils, seldom suffers from the severity of our climate; flowering plentifully during most of the summer months, if trained to a wall with a southern aspect, and, in such situations, frequently producing ripe fruit, of the size and form of a large olive, of a pale orange colour. This most elegant plant may be propagated by seeds, layers, or cuttings; foreign seeds are most to be depended on; they are to be sown in the spring, on a moderate hotbed, and when the plants are grown to the height of two or three inches, they are to be carefully taken up, and each planted in a separate small pot, filled with good loam, then plunged into a moderate hotbed, to forward their taking new root; after which they should be gradually inured to the common air: the younger the plants the more shelter they require, and if ever so old or strong, they are in danger from severe frosts. The layers and cuttings are to be treated in the common way, but seedling plants, if they can be obtained, are on many accounts to be preferred. 29 Reseda odorata. Sweetscented Reseda or Mignonette. Class and Order. Dodecandria Trigynia. Generic Character. Cal. 1phyllus, partitus. Petala laciniata. Caps. ore dehiscens, 1locularis. Specific Character and Synonyms. RESEDA odorata foliis integris trilobisque, calycibus florem quantibus. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 449. RESEDA foliis integris trilobisque, floribus tetragynis. Mill. Dict. t. 217. Illustration: No. 29 Mignonette grows naturally in Egypt, it was unknown to the older Botanists; Miller says he received the seeds of it from Dr. Adrian Van Royen, Professor of Botany at Leyden, so that it is rather a modern inhabitant of our gardens. The luxury of the pleasuregarden is greatly heightened by the delightful odour which this plant diffuses; and as it is most readily cultivated in pots, its fragrance may be conveyed to the parlour of the recluse, or the chamber of the valetudinarian; its perfume, though not so refreshing perhaps as that of the SweetBriar, is not apt to offend on continuance the most delicate olfactories. Being an annual it requires to be raised yearly from seed; when once introduced on a warm dry border it will continue to sow itself, and grow very luxuriantly, flowering from June to the commencement of winter; but as it is desirable to have it as early as possible in the spring, the best way is either to sow the seed in pots in autumn, securing them through the winter in frames, or in a greenhouse, or to raise the seeds early on a gentle hot bed, thinning the plants if they require it, so as to have only two or three in a pot. 30 Lilium chalcedonicum. Chalcedonian Lily. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Cor. 6petala, campanulata: linea longitudinali nectarifera. Caps. valvulis pilo cancellato connexis. Specific Character and Synonyms. LILIUM chalcedonicum foliis sparsis lanceolatis, floribus reflexis, corollis revolutis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 324. LILIUM byzantium miniatum. Bauh. Pin. 78. The Red Martagon of Constantinople. Park. Parad. p. 34. Illustration: No. 30 This species is best known in the nurseries by the name of the Scarlet Martagon; but as it is not the Martagon of Linnus, to avoid confusion it will be most proper to adhere to the name which Linnus has given it. It is a native not only of Persia, but of Hungary; Professor Jacquin, who has figured it in his most excellent Flora Austriaca, describes it as growing betwixt Carniola and Carinthia, and other parts of Hungary, but always on the tops of the largest mountains. It varies in the number of its flowers, from one to six, and the colour in some is found of a blood red. Authors differ in their ideas of its smell: Jacquin describing it as disagreeble, while Scopoli compares it to that of an orange. It flowers in June and July; and is propagated by offsets, which it produces pretty freely, and which will grow in almost any soil or situation. The best time for removing the roots is soon after the leaves are decayed, before they have begun to shoot. 31 Jasminum officinale. Common Jasmine or Jessamine. Class and Order. Diandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Cor. 5fida. Bacca dicocca. Sem. arillata. Anther intra tubum. Specific Character and Synonyms. JASMINUM officinale foliis oppositis; foliolis distinctis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 56. JASMINUM vulgatius flore albo. Bauh. Pin. 397. Jasmine or Gesmine. Park. Parad. p. 406. Illustration: No. 31 There is an elegance in the Jasmine which added to its fragrance renders it an object of universal admiration. \"It grows naturally at Malabar, and in several parts of India, yet has been long inured to our climate, so as to thrive and flower extremely well, but never produces any fruit in England. It is easily propagated by laying down the branches, which will take root in one year, and may then be cut from the old plant, and planted where they are designed to remain: it may also be propagated by cuttings, which should be planted early in the autumn, and guarded against the effects of severe frosts. \"When these plants are removed, they should be planted either against some wall, pale, or other fence, where the flexible branches may be supported. These plants should be permitted to grow rude in the summer, otherwise there will be no flowers; but after the summer is past, the luxuriant shoots should be pruned off, and the others must be nailed to the support. \"There are two varieties of this with variegated leaves, one with white, the other with yellow stripes, but the latter is the most common: these are propagated by budding them on the plain Jasmine; they require to be planted in a warm situation, especially the whitestriped, for they are much more tender than the plain, and in very severe winters their branches should be covered with mats or straw to prevent their being killed.\" Miller's Gard. Dict. 32 Mesembryanthemum dolabriforme. Hatchetleav'd FigMarigold. Class and Order. Icosandria Pentagynia. Generic Character. Cal. 5fidus. Petala numerosa, linearia. Caps. carnosa infera, polysperma. Specific Character and Synonyms. MESEMBRYANTHEMUM dolabriforme acaule, foliis dolabriformibus punctatis. Lin. Syst. Veg. p. 470. FICOIDES capensis humilis, foliis cornua cervi referentibus, petalis luteis noctiflora, Bradl. suc. 1. p. 11. t. 10. Dillen Hort. Elth. t. 191. f. 237. Illustration: No. 32 Though many Latin names of plants, as Geranium, Hepatica, Convolvulus, c. are more familiar to the ear, and more generally used than their English ones, yet Mesembryanthemum though used by some, appears too long to be generally adopted, its English name of Figmarigold is doubtless to be preferred. The Figmarigolds are a very numerous tribe, chiefly inhabitants of the Cape of Good Hope; no less than thirtythree species are figured in that inestimable work the Hortus Elthamensis of Dillenius. As most of these plants grow readily from slips, or cuttings, and require only the shelter of a common greenhouse, and as they recommend themselves to our notice, either from the extreme singularity of their foliage, the beauty of their flowers, or the peculiarity of their expansion, so they are a favourite class of plants with many. The present species is a native of the Cape of Good Hope, and is particularly distinguished by having leaves somewhat resembling a hatchet, whence its name; it is as hardy as most, and flowers as freely, but its blossoms fully expand in the evening and night only. It is very readily propagated by cuttings. 33 Aster tenellus. Bristlyleav'd Aster. Class and Order. Syngenesia Polygamia Superflua. Generic Character. Recept. nudum. Pappus simplex. Cor. radii plures 10. Cal. imbricati squam inferiores patul. Specific Character and Synonyms. ASTER tenellus foliis subfiliformibus aculeatociliatis, pedunculis nudis, calycibus hemisphricis qualibus. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 760. ASTER parvus thiopicus, chammeli floribus, tamarisci gyptiaci foliis tenuissime denticulatis. Pluk. alm. 56. t. 271. f. 4. Raii. Suppl. 164. n. 84. Illustration: No. 33 Most of the numerous species of this genus flower about Michaelmas, hence their vulgar name of MichaelmasDaisy; a name exceptionable not only on account of its length, but from its being a compound word. Aster, though a Latin term, is now so generally received, that we shall make no apology for adopting it. We are indebted to NorthAmerica for most of our Asters, but the present species, which is omitted by Miller, and is rather a scarce plant in this country, though not of modern introduction, being figured by Plukenet and described by Ray, is a native of Africa, and, like a few others, requires in the winter the shelter of a greenhouse. It is particularly distinguished by having very narrow leaves with short bristles on them, and by its blossoms drooping before they open. It is a perennial, flowers in September and October, and may be propagated by slips or cuttings. The plant from whence our drawing was made, came from Messrs. Gordon and Thompson's Nursery, MileEnd. 34 Browallia elata. Tall Browallia. Class and Order. Didynamia Gymnospermia. Generic Character. Cal. 5dentatus. Cor. limbus 5fidus, qualis, patens: umbilico clauso Antheris 2, majoribus. Caps. 1locularis. Specific Character and Synonyms. BROWALLIA elata pedunculis unifloris multiflorisque. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 572. Sp. Pl. 880. Mill. Dict. Illustration: No. 34 Of this genus there are only two species, both natives of SouthAmerica, the elata, so called from its being a much taller plant than the demissa, is a very beautiful, and not uncommon stove or greenhouse plant; it is impossible, by any colours we have, to do justice to the brilliancy of its flowers. Being an annual, it requires to be raised yearly from seed, which must be sown on a hotbed in the spring, and the plants brought forward on another, otherwise they will not perfect their seeds in this country. Some of these may be transplanted into the borders of the flowergarden which are warmly situated, where, if the season prove favourable, they will flower and ripen their seeds; but, for security's sake, it will be prudent to keep a few plants in the stove or greenhouse. As these plants have not been distinguished by any particular English name, MILLER very properly uses its Latin one; a practice which should as much as possible be adhered to, where a genus is named in honour of a Botanist of eminence. 35 Crepis barbata. Bearded Crepis, or Purpleeyed SuccoryHawkweed. Class and Order. Syngenesia Polygamia qualis. Generic Character. Recept. nudum. Cal. calyculatus squamis deciduis. Pappus plumosus, stipitatus. Specific Character and Synonyms. CREPIS barbata involucris calyce longioribus: squamis setaceis sparsis. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 719. HIERACIUM proliferum falcatum. Bauh. Pin. 128. HIERACIUM calyce barbato. Col. ecphr. 2. p. 28. t. 27. f. 1. HIERACIUM boeticum medio nigro. Herm. Parad. Bat. 185. t. 185. Illustration: No. 35 Grows spontaneously in the south of France, about Montpelier; also, in Spain, Italy, Sicily, and elsewhere in the south of Europe: is one of the most common annuals cultivated in our gardens. It begins flowering in July, and continues to blossom till the frost sets in. No other care is necessary in the cultivation of this species than sowing the seeds in the spring, in little patches, on the borders where they are to remain, thinning them if they prove too numerous. MILLER calls this species boetica, and improperly describes the centre of the flower as black, as also does HERMAN: in all the specimens we have seen, it has evidently been of a deep purple colour, or, as LINNUS expresses it, atropurpurascens. 36 Lilium bulbiferum. Orange Lily. Class and Order. Hexandria Monogynia. Generic Character. Cor. 6petala, campanulata: linea longitudinali nectarifera. Caps. valvulis pilo cancellato connexis. Specific Character and Synonyms. LILIUM bulbiferum foliis sparsis, corollis campanulatis erectis: intus scabris. Lin. Syst. Vegetab. p. 324. Jacq. Fl. Austr. t. 226. LILIUM purpureocroceum majus. Bauh. Pin. 76. LILIUM aureum, the gold red Lily. Park. Parad. p. 37. Illustration: No. 36 \"The common orange or red Lily is as well known in the English gardens as the white Lily, and has been as long cultivated here. This grows naturally in Austria and some parts of Italy. It multiplies very fast by offsets from the roots, and is now so common as almost to be rejected; however, in large gardens these should not be wanting, for they make a good appearance when in flower if they are properly disposed; of this sort there are the following varieties: The orange Lily with double flowers, The orange Lily with variegated leaves, The smaller orange Lily. These varieties have been obtained by culture, and are preserved in the gardens of florists. They all flower in June and July, and their stalks decay in September, when the roots may be transplanted and their offsets taken off, which should be done once in two or three years, otherwise their branches will be too large, and the flowerstalks weak. This doth not put out new roots till towards spring, so that the roots may be transplanted any time after the stalks decay till November. It will thrive in any soil or situation, but will be strongest in a soft gentle loam, not too moist.\" Mill. Dict. Bears the smoke of London better than many plants. Varies with and without bulbs on the stalks. INDEX. In which the Latin Names of the Plants contained in the First Volume, are alphabetically arranged. Pl. 24 Agrostemma Coronaria. 10 Anemone Hepatica. 33 Aster tenellus. 34 Browallia elata. 17 Cactus flagelliformis. 27 Convolvulus tricolor. 13 Coronilla glauca. 35 Crepis barbata. 4 Cyclamen Coum. 7 Cynoglossum Omphalodes. 25 Dianthus chinensis. 12 Dodecatheon Meadia. 11 Erica herbacea. 5 Erythronium Dens Canis. 18 Geranium Reichardi. 20 Geranium peltatum. 3 Helleborus hyemalis. 8 Helleborus niger. 19 Hemerocallis flava. 31 Jasminum officinale. 1 Iris persica. 9 Iris pumila. 16 Iris variegata. 21 Iris versicolor. 30 Lilium chalcedonicum. 36 Lilium bulbiferum. 32 Mesembryanthemum dolabriforme. 6 Narcissus minor. 15 Narcissus Jonquilla. 22 Nigella damascena. 28 Passiflora coerulea. 14 Primula villosa. 29 Reseda odorata. 2 Rudbeckia purpurea. 26 Stapelia variegata. 23 Tropolum majus. INDEX. In which the English Names of the Plants contained in the First Volume, are alphabetically arranged. Pl. 33 Aster bristlyleav'd. 34 Browallia tall. 17 Cereus creeping. 24 Cockle rose. 13 Coronilla seagreen. 27 Convolvulus small. 35 Crepis bearded. 4 Cyclamen roundleav'd. 6 Daffodil lesser. 19 Daylily yellow. 12 Dodecatheon Mead's. 5 Dog'stooth. 22 Fennelflower garden. 32 Figmarigold hatchetleav'd. 18 Geranium dwarf. 20 Geranium ivyleav'd. 11 Heath herbaceous. 8 Hellebore black. 3 Hellebore winter. 10 Hepatica. 31 Jasmine common. 23 Indiancress greater. 15 Jonquil common. 9 Iris dwarf. 21 Iris particoloured. 1 Iris persian. 16 Iris variegated. 30 Lily chalcedonian. 36 Lily orange. 7 Navelwort blue. 28 Passionflower common. 25 Pink china. 14 Primula mountain. 29 Reseda sweetscented. 2 Rudbeckia purple. 26 Stapelia variegated. Illustration: INKLE AND YARICO INKLEBY HEAVENS! A WOMAN! ACT I. SCENE III. PAINTED BY HOWARD. PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN  CO. ENGRAVD BY HEATH. INKLE AND YARICO; AN OPERA, IN THREE ACTS; AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL COVENT GARDEN, AND HAYMARKET. BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER; PRINTED, UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS, FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW. T. Davison, Whitefriars, London. REMARKS. This is a drama, which might remove from Mr. Wilberforce his aversion to theatrical exhibitions, and convince him, that the teaching of moral duty is not confined to particular spots of ground; for, in those places, of all others, the doctrine is most effectually inculcated, where exhortation is the most requiredthe resorts of the gay, the idle, and the dissipated. This opera was written, when the author was very young; and, should he live to be very old, he will have reason to be proud of it to his latest dayfor it is one of those plays which is independent of time, of place, or of circumstance, for its value. It was popular before the subject of the abolition of the slave trade was popular. It has the peculiar honour of preceding that great question. It was the bright forerunner of alleviation to the hardships of slavery. The trivial faults of this opera aretoo much play on words (as it is called) by Trudge; and some classical allusions by other characters, in whose education such knowledge could not be an ingredient. A fault more important, isthat the scene at the commencement of the opera, instead of Africa, is placed in America. It would undoubtedly have been a quick passage, to have crossed a fourth part of the western globe, during the interval between the first and second acts; still, as the hero and heroine of the drama were compelled to go to seaimagination, with but little more exertion, might have given them a fair wind as well from the coast whence slaves are really brought, as from a shore where no such traffic is held1. As an opera, Inkle and Yarico has the singular merit not to be protected, though aided, by the power of music: the characters are so forcibly drawn, that even those performers who sing, and study that art alone, can render every part effectual: and singers and actors of future times, like those of the past, and of the present, will find every character exactly suited to their talents. This opera has been performed in every London theatre, and in every theatre of the kingdom, with the same degree of splendid success. It would have been wonderful had its reception been otherwise; for the subject is a most interesting one, and in the treatment of it, the author has shewn taste, judgmentvirtue. Footnote 1: No doubt the author would have ingenuity to argue away this objectionbut that, which requires argument for its support in a dramatic work, is a subject for complaint. As slaves are imported from Africa, and never from America, the audience, in the two last acts of this play, feel as if they had been in the wrong quarter of the globe during the first act. Inkle could certainly steal a native from America, and sell her in Barbadoes, but this is not so consonant with that nice imitation of the order of things as to rank above criticism. PERSONS REPRESENTED. COVENT GARDEN. INKLE Mr. Johnstone. SIR CHRISTOPHER CURRY Mr. Quick. CAMPLEY Mr. Davies. MEDIUM Mr. Wewitzer. TRUDGE Mr. Edwin. MATE Mr. Darley. YARICO Mrs. Billington. NARCISSA Mrs. Mountain. WOWSKI Mrs. Martyr. PATTY Mrs. Rock. HAYMARKET. INKLE Mr. Bannister, jun. SIR CHRISTOPHER CURRY Mr. Parsons. MEDIUM Mr. Baddeley. CAMPLEY Mr. Davies. TRUDGE Mr. Edwin. MATE Mr. Meadows. YARICO Mrs. Kemble. NARCISSA Mrs. Bannister. WOWSKI Miss George. PATTY Mrs. Forster. SCENE,First on the Main of America: Afterwards in Barbadoes. INKLE AND YARICO.      ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. An American Forest. Medium. Without. Hilli ho! ho! Trudge. Without. Hip! hollo! ho!Hip! Enter MEDIUM and TRUDGE. Med. Pshaw! it's only wasting time and breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge a bit faster, and, whatever weight it may have in some places, bawling, it seems, don't go for argument here. Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of America. Trudge. Hip, hilliohohi! Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or Trudge. Lord! sir, if my master makes no more haste, we shall all be put to sword by the knives of the natives. I'm told they take off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs, in their parlours. Mercy on us! My head aches with the very thoughts of it. Hollo! Mr. Inkle! master; hollo! Med. Stops his mouth. Head aches! Zounds, so does mine, with your confounded bawling. It's enough to bring all the natives about us; and we shall be stripped and plundered in a minute. Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seem to be woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself saw three, at a distance, with less clothes than I have, when I get out of bed: all dancing about in black buff; just like Adam in mourning. Med. This is to have to do with a schemer! a fellow who risks his life, for a chance of advancing his interest.Always advantage in view! Trying, here, to make discoveries, that may promote his profit in England. Another Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else could induce him to quit our foraging party, from the ship; when he knows every inhabitant here is not only as black as a peppercorn, but as hot into the bargainand I, like a fool, to follow him! and then to let him loiter behind.Why, nephew;Why, Inkle.Calling. Trudge. Why, InkleWell! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it very hard, now, if I had let him call so often after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after me now, in the old jogtrot way, again. What a fool was I to leave London for foreign parts!That ever I should leave Threadneedlestreet, to thread an American forest, where a man's as soon lost as a needle in a bottle of hay! Med. Patience, Trudge! Patience! If we once recover the ship Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover what I have lost in coming abroad. When my master and I were in London, I had such a mortal snug birth of it! Why, I was factotum. Med. Factotum to a young merchant is no such sinecure, neither. Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think of that, sir; to be clerk as well as own man. Only consider. You find very few city clerks made out of a man, nowadays. To be king of the countinghouse, as well as lord of the bedchamber. Ah! if I had him but now in the little dressingroom behind the office; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual. Med. Yes, or writing an invoice in lampblack, and shining his shoes with an inkbottle, as usual, you blundering blockhead! Trudge. Oh, if I was but brushing the accounts or casting up the coats! mercy on us! what's that? Med. That! What? Trudge. Didn't you hear a noise? Med. Yesbuthush! Oh, heavens be praised! here he is at last. Enter INKLE. Now, nephew! Inkle. So, Mr. Medium. Med. Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American forest: and that all the beasts were nothing but good company. The hollow trees, here, sentry boxes, and the lions in 'em, soldiers; the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine women; and the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you loiter so long? Inkle. Reflection. Med. So I should think; reflection generally comes lagging behind. What, scheming, I suppose; never quiet. At it again, eh? What a happy trader is your father, to have so prudent a son for a partner! Why, you are the carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing sight of the main chance; and that's the reason, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on the main of America. Inkle. Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I own, has been the means of our parting at present. Trudge. Ha! A sum in division, I reckon. Aside. Med. And pray, if I may be so bold, what mighty scheme has just tempted you to employ your head, when you ought to make use of your heels? Inkle. My heels! Here's pretty doctrine! Do you think I travel merely for motion? What, would you have a man of business come abroad, scamper extravagantly here and there and every where, then return home, and have nothing to tell, but that he has been here and there and every where? 'Sdeath, sir, would you have me travel like a lord? Med. No, the Lord forbid! Inkle. Travelling, uncle, was always intended for improvement; and improvement is an advantage; and advantage is profit, and profit is gain. Which in the travelling translation of a trader, means, that you should gain every advantage of improving your profit. I have been comparing the land, here, with that of our own country. Med. And you find it like a good deal of the land of our own countrycursedly encumbered with black legs, I take it. Inkle. And calculating how much it might be made to produce by the acre. Med. You were? Inkle. Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject. Med. Indeed! Inkle. And just about extracting the square root. Med. Hum! Inkle. I was thinking too, if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West Indian markets. Med. Now let me ask you a question, or two, young cannibal catcher, if you please. Inkle. Well. Med. Ar'n't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to trade, but chiefly to carry home the daughter of the governor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been under your father's care, in Threadneedlestreet, for polite English education? Inkle. Granted. Med. And isn't it determined, between the old folks, that you are to marry Narcissa, as soon as we get there? Inkle. A fixed thing. Med. Then what the devil do you do here, hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought to be obliging a fine girl in the ship? Algebra, too! You'll have other things to think of when you are married, I promise you. A plodding fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, like a boy's slate, after school, soon gets all its arithmetic wiped off: and then it appears in its true simple state: dark, empty, and bound in wood, Master Inkle. Inkle. Not in a match of this kind. Why, it's a table of interest from beginning to end, old Medium. Med. Well, well, this is no time to talk. Who knows but, instead of sailing to a wedding, we may get cut up, here, for a wedding dinner: tossed up for a dingy duke, perhaps, or stewed down for a black baronet, or eat raw by an inky commoner? Inkle. Why sure you ar'n't afraid? Med. Who, I afraid? Ha! ha! ha! No, not I! What the deuce should I be afraid of? Thank Heaven I have a clear conscience, and need not be afraid of any thing. A scoundrel might not be quite so easy on such an occasion; but it's the part of an honest man not to behave like a scoundrel: I never behaved like a scoundrelfor which reason I am an honest man, you know. But comeI hate to boast of my good qualities. Inkle. Slow and sure, my good, virtuous Mr. Medium! Our companions can be but half a mile before us: and, if we do but double their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's end, by all the powers of arithmetic. Med. Oh curse your arithmetic! Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the Forest.A ship at anchor in the bay at a small distance.Mouth of a cave. Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from foraging. Mate. Come, come, bear a hand, my lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bowsprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping to come at itthere's hardly any steering clear of the rocks here. But do we muster all hands? All right, think ye? 1st. Sail. All to a manbesides yourself, and a monkeythe three land lubbers, that edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, you knowthey're all dead, mayhap, by this. Mate. Dead! you beWhy they're friends of the captain; and if not brought safe aboard tonight, you may all chance to have a salt eel for your supperthat's allMoreover the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul weather face, there, is to man the tight little frigate, Miss Narcissawhat d'ye call her? that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em for not keeping under weigh, I say! But come, let's see if a song will bring 'em too. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our captain. SONG. The Achilles, though christen'd, good ship, 'tis surmis'd, From that old man of war, great Achilles, so priz'd, Was he, like our vessel, pray fairly baptiz'd? Ti tol lol, c. Poets sung that Achillesif, now, they've an itch To sing this, future ages may know which is which; And that one rode in Greeceand the other in pitch. Ti tol lol, c. What tho' but a merchant shipsure our supplies: Now your men of war's gain in a lottery lies, And how blank they all look, when they can't get a prize! Ti tol lol, c. What are all their fine names? when no rhino's behind, The Intrepid, and Lion, look sheepish you'll find; Whilst, alas! the poor olus can't raise the wind! Ti tol lol, c. Then the Thunderer's dumb; out of tune the Orpheus; The Ceres has nothing at all to produce; And the Eagle I warrant you, looks like a goose. Ti tol lol, c. 1st. Sail. Avast! look ahead there. Here they come, chased by a fleet of black devils. Midsh. And the devil a fire have I to give them. We han't a grain of powder left. What must we do, lads? 2d. Sail. Do? Sheer off to be sure. Midsh. Reluctantly. Well, if I must, I must. Going to the other side, and holloing to INKLE, c. Yoho, lubbers! Crowd all the sail you can, d'ye mind me! Exeunt SAILORS. Enter MEDIUM, running across the stage, as pursued by the Blacks. Med. Nephew! Trudge! runscamper! Scourfly! Zounds, what harm did I ever do to be hunted to death by a pack of bloodhounds? Why nephew! Oh, confound your long sums in arithmetic! I'll take care of myself; and if we must have any arithmetic, dot and carry one for my money. Runs off. Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily. Trudge. Oh! that ever I was born, to leave pen, ink, and powder for this! Inkle. Trudge, how far are the sailors before us? Trudge. I'll run and see, sir, directly. Inkle. Blockhead, come here. The savages are close upon us; we shall scarce be able to recover our party. Get behind this tuft of trees with me; they'll pass us, and we may then recover our ship with safety. Trudge. Going behind. Oh! Threadneedlestreet, Thread Inkle. Peace. Trudge. Hiding.Needlestreet. They hide behind trees. Natives cross. After a long pause, INKLE looks from the trees. Inkle. Trudge. Trudge. Sir. In a whisper. Inkle. Are they all gone by? Trudge. Won't you look and see? Inkle. Looking round. So all is safe at last. Coming forward. Nothing like policy in these cases; but you'd have run on, like a booby! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit. Trudge. Oh, charming! It's a retreat for a king, sir: Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it; your uncle, sir, has run on like a booby; and has got up with our party by this time, I take it; who are now most likely at the shore. But what are we to do next, sir? Inkle. Reconnoitre a little, and then proceed. Trudge. Then pray, sir, proceed to reconnoitre; for the sooner the better. Inkle. Then look out, d'ye hear, and tell me if you discover any danger. Trudge. YYesYes. Inkle. Well, is the coast clear? Trudge. Eh! Oh lord!Clear! Rubbing his eyes. Oh dear! oh dear! the coast will soon be clear enough now, I promise youThe ship is under sail, sir! Inkle. Confusion! my property carried off in the vessel. Trudge. All, all, sir, except me. Inkle. They may report me dead, perhaps, and dispose of my property at the next island. The vessel appears under sail. Trudge. Ah! there they go. A gun fired.That will be the last report we shall ever hear from 'em I'm afraid.That's as much as to say, Good bye to ye. And here we are lefttwo fine, fullgrown babes in the wood! Inkle. What an illtimed accident! Just too, when my speedy union with Narcissa, at Barbadoes, would so much advance my interests.Ah, my Narcissa, I never shall forget thy last adieu.Something must be hit upon, and speedily; but what resource? Thinking. Trudge. The old onea tree, sir.'Tis all we have for it now. What would I give, now, to be perched upon a high stool, with our brown desk squeezed into the pit of my stomachscribbling away an old parchment!But all my red ink will be spilt by an old black pin of a negro. SONG. Last Valentine's Day. A voyage over seas had not entered my head, Had I known but on which side to butter my bread, Heigho! sure Ifor hunger must die! I've sail'd like a booby; come here in a squall, Where, alas! there's no bread to be butter'd at all! Oho! I'm a terrible booby! Oh, what a sad booby am I! In London, what gay chophouse signs in the street! But the only sign here is of nothing to eat. Heigho! that Ifor hunger should die! My mutton's all lost; I'm a poor starving elf! And for all the world like a lost mutton myself. Oho! I shall die a lost mutton! Oh! what a lost mutton am I! For a neat slice of beef, I could roar like a bull; And my stomach's so empty, my heart is quite full. Heigho! that Ifor hunger should die! But, grave without meat, I must here meet my grave, For my bacon, I fancy, I never shall save. Oho! I shall ne'er save my bacon! I can't save my bacon, not I! Trudge. Hum! I was thinkingI was thinking, sirif so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West India markets! Inkle. Scoundrel! is this a time to jest? Trudge. No, faith, sir! Hunger is too sharp to be jested with. As for me, I shall starve for want of food. Now you may meet a luckier fate: you are able to extract the square root, sir; and that's the very best provision you can find here to live upon. But I! Noise at a distance. Mercy on us! here they come again. Inkle. Confusion! Deserted on one side, and pressed on the other, which way shall I turn?This cavern may prove a safe retreat to us for the present. I'll enter, cost what it will. Trudge. Oh Lord! no, don't, don'tWe shall pay too dear for our lodging, depend on't. Inkle. This is no time for debating. You are at the mouth of it: lead the way, Trudge. Trudge. What! go in before your honour! I know my place better, I assure youI might walk into more mouths than one, perhaps. Aside. Inkle. Coward! then follow me. Noise again. Trudge. I must, sir; I must! Ah, Trudge, Trudge! what a damned hole are you getting into! Exeunt into a Cavern. SCENE III. A cave, decorated with skins of wild beasts, feathers, c. In the middle of the scene, a rude kind of curtain, by way of door to an inner apartment. Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, as from the mouth of the cavern. Inkle. So far, at least, we have proceeded with safety. Ha! no bad specimen of savage elegance. These ornaments would be worth something in England.We have little to fear here, I hope: this cave rather bears the pleasing face of a profitable adventure. Trudge. Very likely, sir! But for a pleasing face, it has the cursed'st ugly month I ever saw in my life. Now do, sir, make off as fast as you can. If we once get clear of the natives' houses, we have little to fear from the lions and leopards: for by the appearance of their parlours, they seem to have killed all the wild beast in the country. Now pray, do, my good master, take my advice, and run away. Inkle. Rascal! Talk again of going out, and I'll flea you alive. Trudge. That's just what I expect for coming in.All that enter here appear to have had their skins stript over their ears; and ours will be kept for curiositiesWe shall stand here, stuffed, for a couple of white wonders. Inkle. This curtain seems to lead to another apartment: I'll draw it. Trudge. No, no, no, don't; don't. We may be called to account for disturbing the company: you may get a curtainlecture, perhaps, sir. Inkle. Peace, booby, and stand on your guard. Trudge. Oh! what will become of us! Some grim, seven foot fellow ready to scalp us. Inkle. By heaven! a woman. As the curtain draws, YARICO and WOWSKI discovered asleep. Trudge. A woman! Aside.Loud. But let him come on; I'm readydam'me, I don't fear facing the devil himselfFaith it is a womanfast asleep too. Inkle. And beautiful as an angel! Trudge. And egad! there seems to be a nice, little plump bit in the corner; only she's an angel of rather a darker sort. Inkle. Hush! keep backshe wakes. YARICO comes forwardINKLE and TRUDGE retire to opposite sides of the scene. SONG.YARICO. When the chace of day is done, And the shaggy lion's skin, Which for us, our warriors win, Decks our cells at set of sun; Worn with toil, with slap opprest, I press my mossy bed, and sink to rest. Then, once more, I see our train, With all our chase renew'd again: Once more 'tis day, Once more our prey Gnashes his angry teeth, and foams in vain. Again, in sullen haste, he flies, Ta'en in the toil, again he lies, Again he roarsand, in my slumbers, dies. INKLE and TRUDGE come forward. Inkle. Our language! Trudge. Zounds, she has thrown me into a cold sweat. Yar. Hark! I heard a noise! Wowski, awake! whence can it proceed? She awakes WOWSKI, and they both come forwardYARICO towards INKLE; WOWSKI towards TRUDGE. Yar. Ah! what form is this?are you a man? Inkle. True flesh and blood, my charming heathen, I promise you. Yar. What harmony in his voice! What a shape! How fair his skin tooGazing. Trudge. This must be a lady of quality, by her staring. Yar. Say, stranger, whence come you? Inkle. From a far distant island; driven on this coast by distress, and deserted by my companions. Yar. And do you know the danger that surrounds you here? Our woods are filled with beasts of preymy countrymen too(yet, I think they cou'd'nt find the heart)might kill you.It would be a pity if you fell in their wayI think I should weep if you came to any harm. Trudge. O ho! It's time, I see, to begin making interest with the chamber maid. Takes WOWSKI apart. Inkle. How wild and beautiful! sure there is magic in her shape, and she has rivetted me to the place. But where shall I look for safety? let me fly and avoid my death. Yar. Oh! nodon't depart.But I will try to preserve you; and if you are killed, Yarico must die too! Yet, 'tis I alone can save you; your death is certain, without my assistance; and, indeed, indeed you shall not want it. Inkle. My kind Yarico! what means, then, must be used for my safety? Yar. My cave must conceal you: none enter it, since my father was slain in battle. I will bring you food by day, then lead you to our unfrequented groves by moonlight, to listen to the nightingale. If you should sleep, I'll watch you, and awake you when there's danger. Inkle. Generous maid! Then, to you will I owe my life; and whilst it lasts, nothing shall part us. Yar. And shan't it, shan't it indeed? Inkle. No, my Yarico! For when an opportunity offers to return to my country, you shall be my companion. Yar. What! cross the seas! Inkle. Yes, Help me to discover a vessel, and you shall enjoy wonders. You shall be decked in silks, my brave maid, and have a house drawn with horses to carry you. Yar. Nay, do not laugh at mebut is it so? Inkle. It is indeed! Yar. Oh wonder! I wish my countrywomen could see meBut won't your warriors kill us? Inkle. No, our only danger on land is here. Yar. Then let us retire further into the cave. Comeyour safety is in my keeping. Inkle. I follow youYet, can you run some risk in following me? DUETT. O say, Bonny Lass. Inkle. O say, simple maid, have you form'd any notion Of all the rude dangers in crossing the ocean? When winds whistle shrilly, ah! won't they remind you, To sigh with regret, for the grot left behind you? Yar. Ah! no, I could follow, and sail the world over, Nor think of my grot, when I look at my lover; The winds, which blow round us, your arms for my pillow, Will lull us to sleep, whilst we're rocked by each billow. Both. O say then my true love, we never will sunder, Nor shrink from the tempest, nor dread the big thunder: Whilst constant, we'll laugh at all changes of weather, And journey all over the world both together. Exeunt; as retiring further into the cave. Manent TRUDGE and WOWSKI. Trudge. Why, you speak English as well as I, my little Wowski. Wows. Iss. Trudge. Iss! and you learnt it from a strange man, that tumbled from a big boat, many moons ago, you say? Wows. IssTeach meteach good many. Trudge. Then, what the devil made them so surprized at seeing us! was he like me? Wowski shakes her head. Not so smart a body, mayhap. Was his face, now, round and comely, andeh! Stroking his chin. Was it like mine? Wows. Like dead leafbrown and shrivel. Trudge. Oh, oh, an old shipwrecked sailor, I warrant. With white and grey hair, eh, my pretty beauty spot? Wows. Iss; all white. When night come, he put it in pocket. Trudge. Oh! wore a wig. But the old boy taught you something more than English, I believe. Wows. Iss. Trudge. The devil he did! What was it? Wows. Teach me put dry grass, red hot, in hollow white stick. Trudge. Aye, what was that for? Wows. Put in my mouthgo poff, poff! Trudge. Zounds! did he teach you to smoke? Wows. Iss. Trudge. And what became of him at last? What did your countrymen do for the poor fellow? Wows. Eat him one dayOur chief kill him. Trudge. Mercy on us! what damned stomachs, to swallow a tough old tar! Ah, poor Trudge! your killing comes next. Wows. No, nonot younoRunning to him anxiously. Trudge. No? why what shall I do, if I get in their paws? Wows. I fight for you! Trudge. Will you? Ecod she's a brave goodnatured wench! she'll be worth a hundred of your English wives.Whenever they fight on their husband's account, it's with him instead of for him, I fancy. But how the plague am I to live here? Wows. I feed youbring you kid. SONG.WOWSKI. One day, I heard Mary say. White man, never go away Tell me why need you? Stay, with your Wowski, stay: Wowski will feed you. Cold moons are now coming in; Ah, don't go grieve me! I'll wrap you in leopard's skin: White man, don't leave me. And when all the sky is blue, Sun makes warm weather, I'll catch you a cockatoo, Dress you in feather. When cold comes, or when 'tis hot, Ah, don't go grieve me! Poor Wowski will be forgot White man, don't leave me! Trudge. Zounds! leopard's skin for winter wear, and feathers for a summer's suit! Ha, ha! I shall look like a walking hammercloth, at Christmas, and an upright shuttlecock, in the dog days. And for all this, if my master and I find our way to England, you shall be part of our travelling equipage; and, when I get there, I'll give you a couple of snug rooms, on a first floor, and visit you every evening, as soon as I come from the countinghouse. Do you like it? Wows. Iss. Trudge. Damme, what a flashy fellow I shall seem in the city! I'll get her a white boy to bring up the teakettle. Then I'll teach you to write and dress hair. Wows. You great man in your country? Trudge. Oh yes, a very great man. I'm head clerk of the countinghouse, and first valetdechambre of the dressingroom. I pounce parchments, powder hair, black shoes, ink paper, shave beards, and mend pens. But hold! I had forgot one material pointyou ar'n't married, I hope? Wows. No: you be my chumchum! Trudge. So I will. It's best, however, to be sure of her being single; for Indian husbands are not quite so complaisant as English ones, and the vulgar dogs might think of looking a little after their spouses. But you have had a lover or two in your time; eh, Wowski? Wows. Oh, issgreat manyI tell you. DUETT. Wows. Wampum, Swampum, Yanko, Lanko, Nanko, Pownatowski, Black menplentytwentyfight for me, White man, woo you true? Trudge. Who? Wows. You. Trudge. Yes, pretty little Wowski! Wows. Then I leave all, and follow thee. Trudge. Oh then turn about, my little tawny tight one! Don't you like me? Wows. Iss, you're like the snow! If you slight one Trudge. Never, not for any white one; You are beautiful as any sloe. Wows. Wars, jars, scars, can't expose ye, In our grot Trudge. So snug and cosey! Wows. Flowers, neatly Pick'd, shall sweetly Make your bed. Trudge. Coying, toying, With a rosy Posey, When I'm dosey, Bearskin nightcaps too shall warm my head. Both. Bearskin nightcaps, c. c. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. The Quay at Barbadoes, with an Inn upon it. People employed in unlading vessels, carrying bales of goods, c. Enter several PLANTERS. 1st Plant. I saw her this morning, gentlemen, you may depend on't. My telescope never fails me. I popp'd upon her as I was taking a peep from my balcony. A brave tight ship, I tell you, bearing down directly for Barbadoes here. 2d Plant. Ods, my life! rare news! We have not had a vessel arrive in our harbour these six weeks. 3d Plant. And the last brought only Madam Narcissa, our Governor's daughter, from England; with a parcel of lazy, idle, white folks about her. Such cargoes will never do for our trade, neighbour. 2d Plant. No, no; we want slaves. A terrible dearth of 'em in Barbadoes, lately! But your dingy passengers for my money. Give me a vessel like a collier, where all the lading tumbles out as black as my hat. But are you sure, now, you ar'n't mistaken? To 1st Planter. 1st Plant. Mistaken! 'sbud, do you doubt my glass? I can discover a gull by it six leagues off: I could see every thing as plain as if I was on board. 2d Plant. Indeed! and what were her colours? 1st Plant. Um! why Englishor Dutchor FrenchI don't exactly remember. 2d Plant. What were the sailors aboard? 1st Plant. Eh! why they were English tooor Dutchor FrenchI can't perfectly recollect. 2d Plant. Your glass, neighbour, is a little like a glass too much: it makes you forget every thing you ought to remember. Cry without, \"A sail, a sail!\" 1st Plant. Egad, but I'm right though. Now, gentlemen! All. Aye, aye; the devil take the hindmost. Exeunt hastily. Enter NARCISSA and PATTY. SONG. Freshly now the breeze is blowing, As yon ship at anchor rides; Sullen waves, incessant flowing, Rudely dash against the sides. So my heart, its course impded, Beats in my perturbed breast; Doubts, like waves by waves succeeded, Rise, and still deny it rest. Patty. Well, ma'am, as I was saying Nar. Well, say no more of what you were sayingSure, Patty, you forget where you are; a little caution will be necessary now, I think. Patty. Lord, madam, how is it possible to help talking? We are in Barbadoes here, to be surebut then, ma'am, one may let out a little in a private morning's walk by ourselves. Nar. Nay, it's the same thing with you in doors. Patty. I never blab, ma'am, never, as I hope for a gown. Nar. And your never blabbing, as you call it, depends chiefly on that hope, I believe. Patty. I have told the story of our voyage, indeed, to old Guzzle, the butler. Nar. And thus you lead him to imagine I am but little inclined to the match. Patty. Lord, ma'am, how could that be? Why I never said a word about Captain Campley. Nar. Hush! hush! for heaven's sake. Patty. Aye! there it is now. But if our voyage from England was so pleasant, it wasn't owing to Mr. Inkle, I'm certain. He didn't play the fiddle in our cabin, and dance on the deck, and come languishing with a glass of warm water in his hand, when we were seasick. Ah, ma'am, that water warm'd your heart, I'm confident. Mr. Inkle! No, no; Captain Cam Nar. There is no end to this! Remember, Patty, keep your secrecy, or you entirely lose my favour. Patty. Never fear me, ma'am. But if somebody I know is not acquainted with the Governor, there's such a thing as dancing at balls, and squeezing hands when you lead up, and squeezing them again when you cast down. I'm as close as a patch box. Mum's the word, ma'am, I promise you. Exit. Nar. How awkward is my present situation! Promised to one, who, perhaps, may never again be heard of; and who, I am sure, if he ever appears to claim me, will do it merely on the score of interestpressed too by another, who has already, I fear, too much interest in my heartwhat can I do? What plan can I follow? Enter CAMPLEY. Camp. Follow my advice, Narcissa, by all means. Enlist with me under the best banners in the world. General Hymen for my money! little Cupid's his drummer: he has been beating a round rubadub on our hearts, and we have only to obey the word of command, fall into the ranks of matrimony, and march through life together. Nar. Then consider our situation. Camp. That has been duly considered. In short, the case stands exactly thusyour intended spouse is all for money; I am all for love. He is a rich rogue; I am rather a poor honest fellow. He would pocket your fortune; I will take you without a fortune in your pocket. Nar. Oh! I am sensible of the favour, most gallant Captain Campley; and my father, no doubt, will be very much obliged to you. Camp. Aye, there's the devil of it! Sir Christopher Curry's confounded good character knocks me up at once. Yet I am not acquainted with him neither; not known to him even by sight; being here only as a private gentleman, on a visit to my old relation, out of regimentals, and so forth; and not introduced to the Governor, as other officers of the place. But then, the report of his hospitalityhis odd, blunt, whimsical friendshiphis whole behaviour Nar. All stare you in the face; eh, Campley? Camp. They do, till they put me out of countenance. Nar. What signifies talking to me, when you have such opposition from others? Why hover about the city, instead of boldly attacking the guard? Wheel about, captain! face the enemy! March! Charge! Rout 'em!Drive 'em before you, and then Camp. And then Nar. Lud ha' mercy on the poor city! Enter PATTY, hastily. Patty. Oh lud, ma'am, I'm frightened out of my wits! sure as I'm alive, ma'am, Mr. Inkle is not dead; I saw his man, ma'am, just now, coming ashore in a boat, with other passengers, from the vessel that's come to the island. Exit. Nar. Then one way or other I must determine.To CAMPLEY. Look'ye, Mr. Campley, something has happened which makes me wave ceremonies.If you mean to apply to my father, remember, that delays are dangerous. Camp. Indeed! Nar. I mayn't be always in the same mind, you know. Smiling. Exit. Camp. Nay, thenGad, I'm almost afraid toobut living in this state of doubt is torment. I'll e'en put a good face on the matter; cock my hat; make my bow; and try to reason the Governor into compliance. Faint heart never won a fair lady. SONG. Why should I vain fears discover, Prove a dying, sighing swain? Why turn shillyshally lover, Only to prolong my pain? When we woo the dear enslaver, Boldly ask, and she will grant; How should we obtain a favour, But by telling what we want? Enter TRUDGE and WOWSKI, (as from the ship), with a dirty runner to one of the inns. Run. This way, sir; if you will let me recommend Trudge. Come along, Wows! Take care of your furs, and your feathers, my girl! Wows. Iss. Trudge. That's right.Somebody might steal 'em, perhaps. Wows. Steal!What that? Trudge. Oh Lord! see what one loses by not being born in a christian country. Run. If you would, sir, but mention to your master, the house that belongs to my master; the best accommodations on the quay. Trudge. What's your sign, my lad? Run. The Crown, sir.Here it is. Trudge. Well, get us a room for half an hour, and we'll come: and harkee! let it be light and airy, d'ye hear? My master has been used to your open apartments lately. Run. Depend on it.Much obliged to you, sir. Exit. Wows. Who be that fine man? He great prince? Trudge. A princeHa! ha!No, not quite a princebut he belongs to the Crown. But how do you like this, Wows? Isn't it fine? Wows. Wonder! Trudge. Fine men, eh? Wows. Iss! all white; like you. Trudge. Yes, all the fine men are like me. As different from your people as powder and ink, or paper and blacking. Wows. And fine ladyFace like snow. Trudge. What! the fine lady's complexions? Oh, yes, exactly; for too much heat very often dissolves 'em! Then their dress, too. Wows. Your countrymen dress so? Trudge. Better, better a great deal. Why, a young flashy Englishman will sometimes carry a whole fortune on his back. But did you mind the women? All hereand there; Pointing before and behind. they have it all from us in England.And then the fine things they carry on their heads, Wowski. Wows. Iss. One lady carry good fishso fine, she call every body to look at her. Trudge. Pshaw! an old woman bawling flounders. But the fine girls we meet, here, on the quayso round and so plump! Wows. You not love me now? Trudge. Not love you! Zounds, have not I given you proofs? Wows. Iss. Great many: but now you get here, you forget poor Wowski! Trudge. Not I. I'll stick to you like wax. Wows. Ah! I fear! What make you love me now? Trudge. Gratitude, to be sure. Wows. What that? Trudge. Ha! this it is, now, to live without education. The poor dull devils of her country are all in the practice of gratitude, without finding out what it means; while we can tell the meaning of it, with little or no practice at all.Lord, Lord, what a fine advantage christian learning is! Hark'ee, Wows! Wows. Iss. Trudge. Now we've accomplished our landing, I'll accomplish you. You remember the instructions I gave you on the voyage? Wows. Iss. Trudge. Let's see nowWhat are you to do, when I introduce you to the nobility, gentry, and othersof my acquaintance? Wows. Make believe sit down; then get up. Trudge. Let me see you do it. She makes a low courtesy. Very well! and how are you to recommend yourself, when you have nothing to say, amongst all our great friends? Wows. Grinshow my teeth. Trudge. Right! they'll think you've lived with people of fashion. But suppose you meet an old shabby friend in misfortune, that you don't wish to be seen speak towhat would you do? Wows. Look blindnot see him. Trudge. Why would you do that? Wows. 'Cause I can't see good friend in distress. Trudge. That's a good girl! and I wish every body could boast of so kind a motive for such cursed cruel behaviour.Lord! how some of your flashy bankers' clerks have cut me in Threadneedle street.But come, though we have got among fine folks, here, in an English settlement, I won't be ashamed of my old acquaintance: yet, for my own part, I should not be sorry, now, to see my old friend with a new face.Odsbobs! I see Mr. InkleGo in, Wows; call for what you like best. Wows. Then I call for youah! I fear I not see you often now. But you come soon SONG. Remember when we walked alone, And heard, so gruff, the lion growl: And when the moon so bright it shone, We saw the wolf look up and howl; I led you well, safe to our cell, While tremblingly, You said to me, And kiss'd so sweetdear Wowski tell, How could I live without ye? But now you come across the sea, And tell me here no monsters roar; You'll walk alone, and leave poor me, When wolves, to fright you, howl no more. But ah! think well on our old cell, Where tremblingly, You kiss'd poor me Perhaps you'll saydear Wowski tell, How can I live without ye? Exit WOWSKI. Trudge. Who have we here? Enter FIRST PLANTER. Plant. Hark'ee, young man! Is that young Indian of yours going to our market? Trudge. Not sheshe never went to market in all her life. Plant. I mean, is she for our sale of slaves? Our black fair? Trudge. A black fair, ha! ha! ha! You hold it on a brown green, I suppose. Plant. She's your slave, I take it? Trudge. Yes; and I'm her humble servant, I take it. Plant. Aye, aye, natural enough at sea.But at how much do you value her? Trudge. Just as much as she has saved meMy own life. Plant. Pshaw! you mean to sell her? Trudge. Staring. Zounds! what a devil of a fellow! Sell Wows!my poor, dear, dingy, wife! Plant. Come, come, I've heard your story from the ship.Don't let's haggle; I'll bid as fair as any trader amongst us. But no tricks upon travellers, young man, to raise your price.Your wife, indeed! Why she's no christian! Trudge. No; but I am; so I shall do as I'd be done by: and, if you were a good one yourself, you'd know, that fellowfeeling for a poor body, who wants your help, is the noblest mark of our religion.I wou'dn't be articled clerk to such a fellow for the world. Plant. Heyday! the booby's in love with her! Why, sure, friend, you would not live here with a black? Trudge. Plague on't; there it is. I shall be laughed out of my honesty, here.But you may be jogging, friend; I may feel a little queer, perhaps, at showing her facebut, dam me, if ever I do any thing to make me asham'd of showing my own. Plant. Why, I tell you, her very complexion Trudge. Rot her complexionI'll tell you what, Mr. Fairtrader, if your head and heart were to change places, I've a notion you'd be as black in the face as an inkbottle. Plant. Pshaw! the fellow's a foola rude rascalhe ought to be sent back to the savages again. He's not fit to live among us christians. Exit PLANTER. Trudge. Oh, here comes my master, at last. Enter INKLE, and a second PLANTER. Inkle. Nay, sir, I understand your customs well; your Indian markets are not unknown to me. 2d Plant. And, as you seem to understand business, I need not tell you, that dispatch is the soul of it. Her name you say is Inkle. Yarico: but urge this no more, I beg you; I must not listen to it: for, to speak freely, her anxious care of me demands, that here,though here it may seem strangeI should avow my love for her. Plant. Lord help you for a merchant!It's the first time I ever heard a trader talk of love; except, indeed, the love of trade, and the love of the Sweet Molly, my ship. Inkle. Then, sir, you cannot feel my situation. Plant. Oh yes, I can! we have a hundred such cases just after a voyage; but they never last long on land. It's amazing how constant a young man is in a ship! But, in two words, will you dispose of her, or no? Inkle. In two words, then, meet me here at noon, and we'll speak further on this subject: and lest you think I trifle with your business, hear why I wish this pause. Chance threw me, on my passage to your island, among a savage people. Deserted,defenceless,cut off from companions,my life at staketo this young creature I owe my preservation;she found me, like a dying bough, torn from its kindred branches; which, as it drooped, she moistened with her tears. Plant. Nay, nay, talk like a man of this world. Inkle. Your patience.And yet your interruption goes to my present feelings; for on our sail to this your islandthe thoughts of time mispentdoubtfearsfor call it what you willhave much perplexed me; and as your spires arose, reflections still rose with them; for here, sir, lie my interests, great connexions, and other weighty matterswhich now I need not mention Plant. But which her presence here will mar. Inkle. Even soAnd yet the gratitude I owe her Plant. Pshaw! So because she preserved your life, your gratitude is to make you give up all you have to live upon. Inkle. Why, in that light indeedThis never struck me yet, I'll think on't. Plant. Aye, aye, do soWhy, what return can the wench wish more than taking her from a wild, idle, savage people, and providing for her, here, with reputable hard work, in a genteel, polished, tender, christian country? Inkle. Well, sir, at noon Plant. I'll meet youbut remember, young gentleman, you must get her off your handsyou must, indeed.I shall have her a bargain, I see thatyour servant!Zounds, how late it isbut never be put out of your way for a womanI must runmy wife will play the devil with me for keeping breakfast. Exit. Inkle. Trudge. Trudge. Sir! Inkle. Have you provided a proper apartment? Trudge. Yes, sir, at the Crown here; a neat, spruce room they tell me. You have not seen such a convenient lodging this good while, I believe. Inkle. Are there no better inns in the town? Trudge. UmWhy there is the Lion, I hear, and the Bear, and the Boarbut we saw them at the door of all our late lodgings, and found but bad accommodations within, sir. Inkle. Well, run to the end of the quay, and conduct Yarico hither. The road is straight before you: you can't miss it. Trudge. Very well, sir. What a fine thing it is to turn one's back on a master, without running into a wolf's belly! One can follow one's nose on a message here, and be sure it won't be bit off by the way. Exit. Inkle. Let me reflect a little. Part with her!My interest, honour, engagements to Narcissa, all demand it. My father's precepts tooI can remember, when I was a boy, what pains he took to mould me.School'd me from morn to nightand still the burden of his song wasPrudence! Prudence! Thomas, and you'll rise. His maxims rooted in my heart, and as I grewthey grew; till I was reckoned, among our friends, a steady, sober, solid, good young man; and all the neighbours call'd me the prudent Mr. Thomas. And shall I now, at once, kick down the character which I have raised so warily?Part with hersell her!The thought once struck me in our cabin, as she lay sleeping by me; but, in her slumbers, she passed her arm around me, murmured a blessing on my name, and broke my meditations. Enter YARICO and TRUDGE. Yar. My love! Trudge. I have been showing her all the wigs and bales of goods we met on the quay, sir. Yar. Oh! I have feasted my eyes on wonders. Trudge. And I'll go feast on a slice of beef, in the inn, here. Exit. Yar. My mind has been so busy, that I almost forgot even you. I wish you had stayed with meYou would have seen such sights! Inkle. Those sights have become familiar to me, Yarico. Yar. And yet I wish they were notYou might partake my pleasuresbut now again, methinks, I will not wish sofor, with too much gazing, you might neglect poor Yarico. Inkle. Nay, nay, my care is still for you. Yar. I am sure it is: and if I thought it was not, I would tell you tales about our poor old grotbid you remember our palmtree near the brook, where in the shade you often stretched yourself, while I would take your head upon my lap, and sing my love to sleep. I know you'll love me then. SONG. Our grotto was the sweetest place! The bending boughs, with fragrance blowing, Would check the brook's impetuous pace, Which murmur'd to be stopp'd from flowing. 'Twas there we met, and gaz'd our fill: Ah! think on this, and love me still. 'Twas then my bosom first knew fear, Fear to an Indian maid a stranger The warsong, arrows, hatchet, spear, All warn'd me of my lover's danger. For him did cares my bosom fill: Ah! think on this, and love me still. For him, by day, with care conceal'd, To search for food I climb'd the mountain; And when the night no form reveal'd, Jocund we sought the bubbling fountain. Then, then would joy my bosom fill; Ah! think on this and love me still. Exeunt. SCENE II. An Apartment in the House of SIR CHRISTOPHER CURRY. Enter SIR CHRISTOPHER and MEDIUM. Sir Chr. I tell you, old Medium, you are all wrong. Plague on your doubts! Inkle shall have my Narcissa. Poor fellow! I dare say he's finely chagrined at this temporary partingEat up with the blue devils, I warrant. Med. Eat up by the black devils, I warrant; for I left him in hellish hungry company. Sir Chr. Pshaw! he'll arrive with the next vessel, depend on'tbesides, have not I had this in view ever since they were children? I must and will have it so, I tell you. Is not it, as it were, a marriage made above? They shall meet, I'm positive. Med. Shall they? Then they must meet where the marriage was made; for hang me, if I think it will ever happen below. Sir Chr. Ha!and if that is the casehang me, if I think you'll ever be at the celebration of it. Med. Yet, let me tell you, Sir Christopher Curry, my character is as unsullied as a sheet of white paper. Sir Chr. Well said, old fool'scap! and it's as mere a blank as a sheet of white paper. You are honest, old Medium, by comparison, just as a fellow sentenced to transportation is happier than his companion condemned to the gallowsVery worthy, because you are no rogue; tender hearted, because you never go to fires and executions; and an affectionate father and husband, because you never pinch your children, or kick your wife out of bed. Med. And that, as the world goes, is more than every man can say for himself. Yet, since you force me to speak my positive qualitiesbut, no matter,you remember me in London; didn't I, as member of the Humane Society, bring a man out of the New River, who, it was afterwards found, had done me an injury? Sir Chr. And, dam'me, if I would not kick any man into the New River that had done me an injury. There's the difference of our honesty. Oons! if you want to be an honest fellow, act from the impulse of nature. Why, you have no more gall than a pigeon. Med. And you have as much gall as a turkey cock, and are as hot into the bargainYou're always so hasty; among the hodgepodge of your foibles, passion is always predominant. Sir Chr. So much the better.Foibles, quotha? foibles are foils that give additional lustre to the gems of virtue. You have not so many foils as I, perhaps. Med. And, what's more, I don't want 'em, Sir Christopher, I thank you. Sir Chr. Very true; for the devil a gem have you to set off with 'em. Med. Well, well; I never mention errors; that, I flatter myself, is no disagreeable quality.It don't become me to say you are hot. Sir Chr. 'Sblood! but it does become you: it becomes every man, especially an Englishman, to speak the dictates of his heart. Enter SERVANT. Serv. An English vessel, sir, just arrived in the harbour. Sir Chr. A vessel! Od's my life!Now for the newsIf it is but as I hopeAny dispatches? Serv. This letter, sir, brought by a sailor from the quay. Exit. Sir Chr. Opening the letter Huzza! here it is. He's safesafe and sound at Barbadoes. Reading Sir, My master, Mr. Inkle, is just arrived in your harbour, Here, read, read! old Medium Med. Reading. Um' Your harbour;we were taken up by an English vessel, on the 14th ulto. He only waits till I have puffed his hair, to pay his respects to you, and Miss Narcissa: In the mean time, he has ordered me to brush up this letter for your honour, from Your humble Servant, to command, TIMOTHY TRUDGE. Sir Chr. Hey day! Here's a style! the voyage has jumbled the fellow's brains out of their places; the water has made his head turn round. But no matter; mine turns round, too. I'll go and prepare Narcissa directly; they shall be married slapdash, as soon as he comes from the quay. From Neptune to Hymen: from the hammock to the bridal bedHa! old boy! Med. Well, well; don't flurry yourselfyou're so hot! Sir Chr. Hot! blood, ar'n't I in the West Indies? Ar'n't I governor of Barbadoes? He shall have her as soon as he sets his foot on shore. \"But, plague on't, he's so slow.\"She shall rise to him like Venus out of the sea. His hair puffed? He ought to have been puffing, here, out of breath, by this time. Med. Very true; but Venus's husband is always supposed to be lame, you know, Sir Christopher. Sir Chr. Well, now do, my good fellow, run down to the shore, and see what detains him. Hurrying him off. Med. Well, well; I will, I will. Exit. Sir Chr. In the mean time I'll get ready Narcissa, and all shall be concluded in a second. My heart's set upon it.Poor fellow! after all his rumbles, and tumbles, and jumbles, and fits of despairI shall be rejoiced to see him. I have not seen him since he was that high.But, zounds! he's so tardy! Enter SERVANT. Serv. A strange gentleman, sir, come from the quay, desires to see you. Sir Chr. From the quay? Od's my life!'Tis he'Tis Inkle! Show him up directly. Exit Servant. The rogue is expeditious after all.I'm so happy. Enter CAMPLEY. My dear fellow! Shakes hands. I'm rejoiced to see you. Welcome; welcome here, with all my soul! Camp. This reception, Sir Christopher, is beyond my warmest wishesUnknown to you Sir Chr. Aye, aye; we shall be better acquainted by and by. Well, and how, eh! tell me!But old Medium and I have talked over your affair a hundred times a day, ever since Narcissa arrived. Camp. You surprise me! Are you then really acquainted with the whole affair? Sir Chr. Every tittle. Camp. And, can you, sir, pardon what is past? Sir Chr. Pooh! how could you help it? Camp. Very truesailing in the same shipandBut when you consider the past state of my mindthe black prospect before me. Sir Chr. Ha! ha! Black enough, I dare say. Camp. The difficulty I have felt in bringing myself face to face to you. Sir Chr. That I am convinced ofbut I knew you would come the first opportunity. Camp. Very true: yet the distance between the Governor of Barbadoes and myself. Bowing. Sir Chr. Yesa devilish way asunder. Camp. Granted, sir: which has distressed me with the cruellest doubts as to our meeting. Sir Chr. It was a toss up. Camp. The old gentleman seems devilish kind.Now to soften him. Aside. Perhaps, sir, in your younger days, you may have been in the same situation yourself. Sir Chr. Who? I! 'sblood! no, never in my life. Camp. I wish you had, with all my soul, Sir Christopher. Sir Chr. Upon my soul, Sir, I am very much obliged to you. Bowing. Camp. As what I now mention might have greater weight with you. Sir Chr. Pooh! pr'ythee! I tell you I pitied you from the bottom of my heart. Camp. Indeed! if, with your leave, I may still venture to mention Miss Narcissa Sir Chr. An impatient, sensible young dog! like me to a hair! Set your heart at rest, my boy. She's yours; yours before tomorrow morning. Camp. Amazement! I can scarce believe my senses. Sir Chr. Zounds! you ought to be out of your senses: but dispatchmake short work of it, ever while you live, my boy. Here she is. Enter NARCISSA and PATTY. Here girl: here's your swain. To NAR. Camp. I just parted with my Narcissa, on the quay, sir. Sir Chr. Did you! Ah, sly doghad a meeting before you came to the old gentleman.But hereTake him, and make much of himand, for fear of further separations, you shall e'en be tacked together directly. What say you, girl? Camp. Will my Narcissa consent to my happiness? Nar. I always obey my father's commands, with pleasure, sir. Sir Chr. Od! I'm so happy, I hardly know which way to turn; but we'll have the carriage directly; drive down to the quay; trundle old Spintext into church, and hey for matrimony! Camp. With all my heart, Sir Christopher; the sooner the better. SIR CHRISTOPHER, CAMPLEY, NARCISSA, PATTY. Sir Chr. Your Colinettes, and Arriettes, Your Damons of the grove, Who like fallals, and pastorals, Waste years in love; But modern folks know better jokes, And, courting once begun, To church they hop at onceand pop Egad, all's done! All. In life we prance a country dance, Where every couple stands; Their partners seta while curvet But soon join hands. Nar. When at our feet, so trim and neat, The powder'd lover sues, He vows he dies, the lady sighs, But can't refuse. Ah! how can she unmov'd e'er see Her swain his death incur? If once the squire is seen expire, He lives with her. All. In life, c. c. Patty. When John and Bet are fairly met, John boldly tries his luck; He steals a buss, without more fuss, The bargain's struck. Whilst things below are going so, Is Betty pray to blame? Who knows up stairs, her mistress fares Just, just the same. All. In life we prance, c. c. Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. The Quay. Enter PATTY. Patty. Mercy on us! what a walk I have had of it! Well, matters go on swimmingly at the Governor'sThe old gentleman has ordered the carriage, and the young couple will be whisked here, to church, in a quarter of an hour. My business is to prevent young sobersides, young Inkle, from appearing, to interrupt the ceremony.Ha! here's the Crown, where I hear he is housed: So now to find Trudge, and trump up a story, in the true style of a chambermaid. Goes into the house. PATTY within. I tell you it don't signify, and I will come up. TRUDGE within. But it does signify, and you can't come up. Reenter PATTY with TRUDGE. Patty. You had better say at once, I shan't. Trudge. Well then, you shan't. Patty. Savage! Pretty behaviour you have picked up amongst the Hottypots! Your London civility, like London itself, will soon be lost in smoke, Mr. Trudge: and the politeness you have studied so long in Threadneedlestreet, blotted out by the blacks you have been living with. Trudge. No such thing; I practised my politeness all the while I was in the woods. Our very lodging taught me good manners; for I could never bring myself to go into it without bowing. Patty. Don't tell me! A mighty civil reception you give a body, truly, after a six weeks parting. Trudge. Gad, you're right; I am a little out here, to be sure. Kisses her. Well, how do you do? Patty. Pshaw, fellow! I want none of your kisses. Trudge. Oh! very wellI'll take it again. Offers to kiss her. Patty. Be quiet. I want to see Mr. Inkle: I have a message to him from Miss Narcissa. I shall get a sight of him, now, I believe. Trudge. May be not. He's a little busy at present. Patty. Busyha! Plodding! What he's at his multiplication table again? Trudge. Very likely; so it would be a pity to interrupt him, you know. Patty. Certainly; and the whole of my business was to prevent his hurrying himselfTell him, we shan't be ready to receive him, at the Governor's, till tomorrow, d'ye hear? Trudge. No? Patty. No. Things are not prepared. The place isn't in order; and the servants have not had proper notice of the arrival. Sir Christopher intends Mr. Inkle, you know, for his soninlaw, and must receive him in public form, (which can't be till tomorrow morning) for the honour of his governorship: why the whole island will ring of it. Trudge. The devil it will! Patty. Yes; they've talked of nothing but my mistress's beauty and fortune for these six weeks. Then he'll be introduced to the bride, you know. Trudge. O, my poor master! Patty. Then a breakfast; then a procession; thenif nothing happens to prevent it, he'll get into church, and be married in a crack. Trudge. Then he'll get into a damn'd scrape, in a crack. Patty. Heyday! a scrape! How! Trudge. Nothing, nothingIt must outPatty! Patty. Well! Trudge. Can you keep a secret? Patty. Try me. Trudge. Then Whispering. My master keeps a girl. Patty. Oh, monstrous! another woman? Trudge. As sure as one and one make two. Patty. Aside. Rare news for my mistress!Why I can hardly believe it: the grave, sly, steady, sober Mr. Inkle, do such a thing! Trudge. Pooh! it's always your sly, sober fellows, that go the most after the girls. Patty. Well; I should sooner suspect you. Trudge. Me? Oh Lord! he! he!Do you think any smart, tight, little, blackeyed wench, would be struck with my figure? Conceitedly. Patty. Pshaw! never mind your figure. Tell me how it happened? Trudge. You shall hear: when the ship left us ashore, my master turned as pale as a sheet of paper. It isn't every body that's blest with courage, Patty. Patty. True. Trudge. However, I bid him cheer up; told him, to stick to my elbow: took the lead, and began our march. Patty. Well? Trudge. We hadn't gone far, when a damn'd oneeyed black boar, that grinned like a devil, came down the hill in jog trot! My Master melted as fast as a pot of pomatum! Patty. Mercy on us! Trudge. But what does I do, but whips out my desk knife, that I used to cut the quills with at home; met the monster, and slit up his throat like a penThe boar bled like a pig. Patty. Lord! Trudge, what a great traveller you are! Trudge. Yes; I remember we fed on the flitch for a week. Patty. Well, well; but the lady. Trudge. The lady! Oh, true. By and by we came to a cavea large hollow room, under ground, like a warehouse in the Adelphi.Well; there we were half an hour, before I could get him to go in; there's no accounting for fear, you know. At last, in we went, to a place hung round with skins, as it might be a furrier's shop, and there was a fine lady, snoring on a bow and arrows. Patty. What, all alone? Trudge. Eh!Nono.HumShe had a young lion, by way of a lapdog. Patty. Gemini; what did you do? Trudge. Gave her a jog, and she opened her eyesshe struck my master immediately. Patty. Mercy on us! with what? Trudge. With her beauty, you ninny, to be sure: and they soon brought matters to bear. The wolves witnessed the contractI gave her awayThe crows croaked amen; and we had board and lodging for nothing. Patty. And this is she he has brought to Barbadoes? Trudge. The same. Patty. Well; and tell me, Trudge;she's pretty, you sayIs she fair or brown? or Trudge. Um! she's a good comely copper. Patty. How! a tawny? Trudge. Yes, quite dark; but very elegant; like a Wedgwood teapot. Patty. Oh! the monster! the filthy fellow! Live with a blackamoor! Trudge. Why, there's no great harm in't, I hope? Patty. Faugh! I wou'dn't let him kiss me for the world: he'd make my face all smutty. Trudge. Zounds! you are mighty nice all of a sudden; but I'd have you to know, Madam Patty, that Blackamoor ladies, as you call 'em, are some of the very few whose complexions never rub off! 'Sbud, if they did, Wows and I should have changed faces by this timeBut mum; not a word for your life. Patty. Not I! except to the Governor and family. Aside. But I must runand, remember, Trudge, if your master has made a mistake here, he has himself to thank for his pains. Exit PATTY. Trudge. Pshaw! these girls are so plaguy proud of their white and red! but I won't be shamed out of Wows, that's flat. Enter WOWSKI. Ah! Wows, I'm going to leave you. Wows. For what you leave me? Trudge. Master says I must. Wows. Ah, but you say in your country, women know best; and I say you not leave me. Trudge. Master, to be sure, while we were in the forest, taught Yarico to read, with his pencil and pocketbook. What then? Wows comes on fine and fast in her lessons. A little awkward at first, to be sureHa! ha!She's so used to feed with her hands, that I can't get her to eat her victuals, in a genteel, christian way, for the soul of me; when she has stuck a morsel on her fork, she don't know how to guide it, but pops up her knuckles to her mouth, and the meat goes up to her ear. But, no matterAfter all the fine, flashy London girls, Wowski's the wench for my money. SONG. A clerk I was in London gay, Jemmy linkum feedle, And went in boots to see the play, Merry fiddlem tweedle. I march'd the lobby, twirled my stick, Diddle, daddle, deedle; The girls all cry'd, \"He's quite the kick.\" Oh, Jemmy linkum feedle. Hey! for America I sail, Yankee doodle, deedle; The sailorboys cry'd, \"Smoke his tail!\" Jemmy linkum feedle. On English belles I turned my back, Diddle, daddle, deedle; And got a foreign fair quite black, O twaddle, twaddle, tweedle! Your London girls, with roguish trip, Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle, May boast their pouting under lip, Fiddle, faddle, feedle. My Wows would beat a hundred such, Diddle, daddle, deedle, Whose upper lip pouts twice as much, O, pretty double wheedle! Rings I'll buy to deck her toes; Jemmy linkum feedle; A feather fine shall grace her nose, Waving siddle seedle. With jealousy I ne'er shall burst; Who'd steal my bone of bonea? A white Othello, I can trust A dingy Desdemona. Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in the Crown. Enter INKLE. Inkle. I know not what to thinkI have given her distant hints of parting; but still, so strong her confidence in my affection, she prattles on without regarding me. Poor Yarico! I must notcannot quit her. When I would speak, her look, her mere simplicity disarms me; I dare not wound such innocence. Simplicity is like a smiling babe, which, to the ruffian that would murder it, stretching its little naked, helpless arms, pleads, speechless, its own cause. And yet, Narcissa's family Enter TRUDGE. Trudge. There he is; like a beau bespeaking a coatdoubting which colour to chooseSir Inkle. What now? Trudge. Nothing unexpected, sir:I hope you won't be angry; but I am come to give you joy, sir! Inkle. Joy!of what? Trudge. A wife, sir! a white one.I know it will vex you, but Miss Narcissa means to make you happy, tomorrow morning. Inkle. Tomorrow! Trudge. Yes, sir; and as I have been out of employ, in both my capacities, lately, after I have dressed your hair, I may draw up the marriage articles. Inkle. Whence comes your intelligence, sir? Trudge. Patty told me all that has passed in the Governor's family, on the quay, sir. Women, you know, can never keep a secret. You'll be introduced in form, with the whole island to witness it. Inkle. So public, too!Unlucky! Trudge. There will be nothing but rejoicings, in compliment to the wedding, she tells me; all noise and uproar! Married people like it, they say. Inkle. Strange! that I should be so blind to my interest, as to be the only person this distresses. Trudge. They are talking of nothing else but the match, it seems. Inkle. Confusion! How can I, in honour, retract? Trudge. And the bride's merits Inkle. True!A fund of merits!I would notbut from necessitya case so nice as thisIwould not wish to retract. Trudge. Then they call her so handsome. Inkle. Very true! so handsome! the whole world would laugh at me; they'd call it folly to retract. Trudge. And then they say so much of her fortune. Inkle. O death! it would be madness to retract. Surely, my faculties have slept, and this long parting from my Narcissa has blunted my sense of her accomplishments. 'Tis this alone makes me so weak and wavering. I'll see her immediately. Going. Trudge. Stay, stay, sir; I am desired to tell you, the Governor won't open his gates to us till tomorrow morning. Inkle. Well, be it so; it will give me time, at all events, to put my affairs in train. Trudge. Yes; it's a short respite before execution; and if your honour was to go and comfort poor Madam Yarico Inkle. Damnation! Scoundrel, how dare you offer your advice?I dread to think of her! Trudge. I've done, sir, I've doneBut I know I should blubber over Wows all night, if I thought of parting with her in the morning. Inkle. Insolence! begone, sir! Trudge. Lord, sir, I only Inkle. Get down stairs, sir, directly. Trudge. Going out. Ah! you may well put your hand to your head; and a bad head it must be, to forget that Madam Yarico prevented her countrymen from peeling off the upper part of it. Aside. Exit. Inkle. 'Sdeath, what am I about? How have I slumbered! Is it I?Iwho, in London, laughed at the younkers of the townand, when I saw their chariots, with some fine, tempting girl, perked in the corner, come shopping to the city, would cryAh!there sits ruinthere flies the Greenhorn's money! then wondered with myself how men could trifle time on women; or, indeed, think of any women without fortunes. And now, forsooth, it rests with me to turn romantic puppy, and give up all for love.Give up!Oh, monstrous folly!thirty thousand pounds! TRUDGE. Peeping in at the door. Trudge. May I come in, sir? Inkle. What does the booby want? Trudge. Sir, your uncle wants to see you. Inkle. Mr. Medium! show him up directly. Exit TRUDGE. He must not know of this. Tomorrow! I wish this marriage were more distant, that I might break it to her by degrees: she'd take my purpose better, were it less suddenly delivered. Enter MEDIUM. Med. Ah! here he is! Give me your hand, nephew! welcome, welcome to Barbadoes, with all my heart. Inkle. I am glad to meet you here, uncle! Med. That you are, that you are, I'm sure. Lord! Lord! when we parted last, how I wished we were in a room together, if it were but the black hole! I have not been able to sleep o'nights for thinking of you. I've laid awake, and fancied I saw you sleeping your last, with your head in the lion's mouth, for a nightcap! and I've never seen a bear brought over to dance about the street, but I thought you might be bobbing up and down in its belly. Inkle. I am very much obliged to you. Med. Aye, aye, I am happy enough to find you safe and sound, I promise you. But, you have a fine prospect before you now, young man. I am come to take you with me to Sir Christopher, who is impatient to see you. Inkle. Tomorrow, I hear, he expects me. Med. Tomorrow! directlythis momentin half a second.I left him standing on tiptoe, as he calls it, to embrace you; and he's standing on tiptoe now in the great parlour, and there he'll stand till you come to him. Inkle. Is he so hasty? Med. Hasty! he's all pepperand wonders you are not with him, before it's possible to get at him. Hasty, indeed! Why, he vows you shall have his daughter this very night. Inkle. What a situation! Med. Why, it's hardly fair just after a voyage. But come, bustle, bustle, he'll think you neglect him. He's rare and touchy, I can tell you; and if he once takes it into his head that you show the least slight to his daughter, it would knock up all your schemes in a minute. Inkle. Confusion! If he should hear of Yarico! Aside. Med. But at present you are all and all with him; he has been telling me his intentions these six weeks; you'll be a fine warm husband, I promise you. Inkle. This cursed connexion! Aside. Med. It is not for me, though, to tell you how to play your cards; you are a prudent young man, and can make calculations in a wood. Inkle. Fool! fool! fool! Aside. Med. Why, what the devil is the matter with you? Inkle. It must be done effectually, or all is lost; mere parting would not conceal it. Aside. Med. Ah! now he's got to his damn'd square root again, I suppose, and Old Nick would not move him.Why, nephew! Inkle. The planter that I spoke with cannot be arrivedbut time is preciousthe first I meetcommon prudence now demands it. I'm fixed, I'll part with her. Aside. Exit. Med. Damn me, but he's mad! The woods have turned the poor boy's brains; he's scalped, and gone crazy! Hoho! Inkle! Nephew! Gad, I'll spoil your arithmetic, I warrant me. Exit. SCENE III. The Quay. Enter SIR CHRISTOPHER CURRY. Sir Chr. Ods, my life! I can scarce contain my happiness. I have left them safe in church, in the middle of the ceremony. I ought to have given Narcissa away, they told me; but I capered about so much for joy, that Old Spintext advised me to go and cool my heels on the quay, till it was all over. Ods I'm so happy; and they shall see, now, what an old fellow can do at a wedding. Enter INKLE. Inkle. Now for dispatch! Hark'ee, old gentleman! To the Governor. Sir Chr. Well, young gentleman? Inkle. If I mistake not, I know your business here. Sir Chr. 'Egad, I believe half the island knows it, by this time. Inkle. Then to the pointI have a female, whom I wish to part with. Sir Chr. Very likely; it's a common case, now adays, with many a man. Inkle. If you could satisfy me you would use her mildly, and treat her with more kindness than is usualfor I can tell you she's of no common stampperhaps we might agree. Sir Chr. Oho! a slave! Faith, now I think on't, my daughter may want an attendant or two extraordinary; and as you say she's a delicate girl, above the common run, and none of your thicklipped, flatnosed, squabby, dumpling dowdies, I don't much care if Inkle. And for her treatment Sir Chr. Look ye, young man; I love to be plain: I shall treat her a good deal better than you would, I fancy; for though I witness this custom every day, I can't help thinking the only excuse for buying our fellow creatures, is to rescue them from the hands of those who are unfeeling enough to bring them to market. Inkle. Fair words, old gentleman; an Englishman won't put up an affront. Sir Chr. An Englishman! more shame for you! Let Englishmen blush at such practices. Men, who so fully feel the blessings of liberty, are doubly cruel in depriving the helpless of their freedom. Inkle. Let me assure you, sir, it is not my occupation; but for a private reasonan instant pressing necessity Sir Chr. Well, well, I have a pressing necessity too; I can't stand to talk now; I expect company here presently; but if you'll ask for me tomorrow, at the Castle Inkle. The Castle! Sir Chr. Aye, sir, the Castle; the Governor's Castle; known all over Barbadoes. Inkle. 'Sdeath this man must be on the Governor's establishment: his steward, perhaps, and sent after me, while Sir Christopher is impatiently waiting for me. I've gone too far; my secret may be knownAs 'tis, I'll win this fellow to my interest. To him.One word more, sir: my business must be done immediately; and as you seem acquainted at the Castle, if you should see me thereand there I mean to sleep tonight Sir Chr. The devil you do! Inkle. Your finger on your lips; and never breathe a syllable of this transaction. Sir Chr. No! Why not? Inkle. Because, for reasons, which, perhaps, you'll know tomorrow, I might be injured with the Governor, whose most particular friend I am. Sir Chr. So! here's a particular friend of mine, coming to sleep at my house, that I never saw in my life. I'll sound this fellow. Aside. I fancy, young gentleman, as you are such a bosom friend of the Governor's, you can hardly do any thing to alter your situation with him? Inkle. Oh! pardon me; but you'll find that hereafterbesides, you, doubtless, know his character? Sir Chr. Oh, as well as I do my own. But let's understand one another. You may trust me, now you've gone so far. You are acquainted with his character, no doubt, to a hair? Inkle. I amI see we shall understand each other. You know him too, I see, as well as I.A very touchy, testy, hot old fellow. Sir Chr. Here's a scoundrel! I hot and touchy! Zounds! I can hardly contain my passion!But I won't discover myself. I'll see the bottom of thisTo him. Well now, as we seem to have come to a tolerable explanationlet's proceed to businessBring me the woman. Inkle. No; there you must excuse me. I rather would avoid seeing her more; and wish it to be settled without my seeming interference. My presence might distress herYou conceive me? Sir Chr. Zounds! what an unfeeling rascal!The poor girl's in love with him, I suppose. No, no, fair and open. My dealing is with you and you only: I see her now, or I declare off. Inkle. Well then, you must be satisfied: yonder's my servanthaa thought has struck me. Come here, sir. Enter TRUDGE. I'll write my purpose, and send it her by himIt's lucky that I taught her to decypher characters; my labour now is paid. Takes out his pocket book, and writes.This is somewhat less abrupt; 'twill soften matters. To himself. Give this to Yarico; then bring her hither with you. Trudge. I shall, sir. Going. Inkle. Stay; come back. This soft fool, if uninstructed, may add to her distress. When she has read this paper, seem to make light of it; tell her it is a thing of course, done purely for her good. I here inform her that I must part with her. D'ye understand your lesson? Trudge. Papart with Mamadam Yarico! Inkle. Why does the blockhead stammer!I have my reasons. No mutteringAnd let me tell you, sir, if your rare bargain were gone too, 'twould be the better: she may babble our story of the forest, and spoil my fortune. Trudge. I'm sorry for it, sir; I have lived with you along while; I've half a year's wages too, due the 25th ult. for dressing your hair, and scribbling your parchments; but take my scribbling; take my frizzing; take my wages; and I, and Wows, will take ourselves off togethershe saved my life, and rot me, if any thing but death shall part us. Inkle. Impertinent! Go, and deliver your message. Trudge. I'm gone, sir. Lord, Lord! I never carried a letter with such ill will in all my born days. Exit. Sir Chr. Wellshall I see the girl? Inkle. She'll be here presently. One thing I had forgot: when she is yours, I need not caution you, after the hints I've given, to keep her from the Castle. If Sir Christopher should see her, 'twould lead, you know, to a discovery of what I wish concealed. Sir Chr. Depend upon meSir Christopher will know no more of our meeting, than he does at this moment. Inkle. Your secrecy shall not be unrewarded; I'll recommend you, particularly, to his good graces. Sir Chr. Thank ye, thank ye; but I'm pretty much in his good graces, as it is; I don't know anybody he has a greater respect for. Reenter TRUDGE. Inkle. Now, sir, have you performed your message? Trudge. Yes, I gave her the letter. Inkle. And where is Yarico? did she say she'd come? didn't you do as you were ordered? didn't you speak to her? Trudge. I cou'dn't, sir, I cou'dn'tI intended to say what you bid mebut I felt such a pain in my throat, I cou'dn't speak a word, for the soul of me; and so, sir, I fell a crying. Inkle. Blockhead! Sir Chr. 'Sblood, but he's a very honest blockhead. Tell me, my good fellowwhat said the wench? Trudge. Nothing at all, sir. She sat down with her two hands clasped on her knees, and looked so pitifully in my face, I could not stand it. Oh, here she comes. I'll go and find Wows: if I must be melancholy, she shall keep me company. Exit. Sir Chr. Ods my life, as comely a wench as ever I saw! Enter YARICO, who looks for some time in INKLE's face, bursts into tears, and falls on his neck. Inkle. In tears! nay, Yarico! why this? Yar. Oh do notdo not leave me! Inkle. Why, simple girl! I'm labouring for your good. My interest, here, is nothing: I can do nothing from myself, you are ignorant of our country's customs. I must give way to men more powerful, who will not have me with you. But see, my Yarico, ever anxious for your welfare, I've found a kind, good person who will protect you. Yar. Ah! why not you protect me! Inkle. I have no meanshow can I? Yarico. Just as I sheltered you. Take me to yonder mountain, where I see no smoke from tall, high houses, filled with your cruel countrymen. None of your princes, there, will come to take me from you. And should they stray that way, we'll find a lurking place, just like my own poor cave; where many a day I sat beside you, and blessed the chance that brought you to itthat I might save your life. Sir Chr. His life! Zounds! my blood boils at the scoundrel's ingratitude! Yar. Come, come, let's go. I always feared these cities. Let's fly and seek the woods; and there we'll wander hand in hand together. No cares shall vex us thenWe'll let the day glide by in idleness; and you shall sit in the shade, and watch the sunbeam playing on the brook, while I sing the song that pleases you. No cares, love, but for foodand we'll live cheerily I warrantIn the fresh, early morning, you shall hunt down our game, and I will pick you berriesand then, at night I'll trim our bed of leaves, and lie me down in peaceOh! we shall be so happy! Inkle. Hear me, Yarico. My countrymen and yours differ as much in minds as in complexions. We were not born to live in woods and cavesto seek subsistence by pursuing beastsWe christians, girl, hunt money; a thing unknown to youBut, here, 'tis money which brings us ease, plenty, command, power, every thing; and, of course, happiness. You are the bar to my attaining this; therefore 'tis necessary for my goodand which, I think, you value Yar. You know I do; so much, that it would break my heart to leave you. Inkle. But we must part; if you are seen with me, I shall lose all. Yar. I gave up all for youmy friendsmy country: all that was dear to me: and still grown dearer since you sheltered there.All, all, was left for youand were it now to do againagain I'd cross the seas, and follow you, all the world over. Inkle. We idle time; sir, she is yours. See you obey this gentleman; 'twill be the better for you. Going. Yar. O barbarous! Holding him. Do not, do not abandon me! Inkle. No more. Yar. Stay but a little. I shan't live long to be a burden to you: your cruelty has cut me to the heart. Protect me but a littleor I'll obey this man, and undergo all hardships for your good; stay but to witness 'em.I soon shall sink with grief; tarry till then, and hear me bless your name when I am dying; and beg you now and then, when I am gone, to heave a sigh for your poor Yarico. Inkle. I dare not listen. You, sir, I hope, will take good care of her. Going. Sir Chr. Care of her!that I willI'll cherish her like my own daughter; and pour balm into the heart of a poor, innocent girl, that has been wounded by the artifices of a scoundrel. Inkle. Hah! 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you! Sir Chr. 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you look an honest man in the face? Inkle. Sir, you shall feel Sir Chr. Feel!It's more than ever you did, I believe. Mean, sordid wretch! dead to all sense of honour, gratitude, or humanityI never heard of such barbarity! I have a soninlaw, who has been left in the same situation; but, if I thought him capable of such cruelty, dam'me if I would not turn him to sea, with a peckloaf, in a cockle shellCome, come, cheer up, my girl! You shan't want a friend to protect you, I warrant you.Taking YARICO by the hand. Inkle. Insolence! The Governor shall hear of this insult. Sir Chr. The Governor! liar! cheat! rogue! impostor! breaking all ties you ought to keep, and pretending to those you have no right to. The Governor never had such a fellow in the whole catalogue of his acquaintancethe Governor disowns youthe Governor disclaims youthe Governor abhors you; and to your utter confusion, here stands the Governor to tell you so. Here stands old Curry, who never talked to a rogue without telling him what he thought of him. Inkle. Sir Christopher!Lost and undone! Med. Without. Holo! Young Multiplication! Zounds! I have been peeping in every cranny of the house. Why, young Rule of Three! Enters from the inn. Oh, here you are at lastAh, Sir Christopher! What are you there! too impatient to wait at home. But here's one that will make you easy, I fancy. Clapping INKLE on the shoulder. Sir Chr. How came you to know him? Med. Ha! ha! Well, that's curious enough too. So you have been talking here, without finding out each other. Sir Chr. No, no; I have found him out with a vengeance. Med. Not you. Why this is the dear boy. It's my nephew; that is, your soninlaw, that is to be. It's Inkle! Sir Chr. It's a lie; and you're a purblind old booby,and this dear boy is a damn'd scoundrel. Med. Heyday! what's the meaning of this? One was mad before, and he has bit the other, I suppose. Sir Chr. But here comes the dear boythe true boythe jolly boy, piping hot from church, with my daughter. Enter CAMPLEY, NARCISSA, and PATTY. Med. Campley! Sir Chr. Who? Campley?It's no such thing. Camp. That's my name, indeed, Sir Christopher. Sir Chr. The devil it is! And how came you, sir, to impose upon me, and assume the name of Inkle? A name which every man of honesty ought to be ashamed of. Camp. I never did, sir.Since I sailed from England with your daughter, my affection has daily increased: and when I came to explain myself to you, by a number of concurring circumstances, which I am now partly acquainted with, you mistook me for that gentleman. Yet had I even then been aware of your mistake, I must confess, the regard for my own happiness would have tempted me to let you remain undeceived. Sir Chr. And did you, Narcissa, join in Nar. How could I, my dear sir, disobey you? Patty. Lord your honour, what young lady could refuse a captain? Camp. I am a soldier, Sir Christopher. Love and war is the soldier's motto; though my income is trifling to your intended soninlaw's, still the chance of war has enabled me to support the object of my love above indigence. Her fortune, Sir Christopher, I do not consider myself by any means entitled to. Sir Chr. 'Sblood! but you must though. Give me your hand, my young Mars, and bless you both together!Thank you, thank you for cheating an old fellow into giving his daughter to a lad of spirit, when he was going to throw her away upon one, in whose breast the mean passion of avarice smothers the smallest spark of affection or humanity. Nar. I have this moment heard a story of a transaction in the forest, which I own would have rendered compliance with your former commands very disagreeable. Patty. Yes, sir, I told my mistress he had brought over a Hottypot gentlewoman. Sir Chr. Yes, but he would have left her for you; To Narcissa. and you for his interest; and sold you, perhaps, as he has this poor girl to me, as a requital for preserving his life. Nar. How! Enter TRUDGE and WOWSKI. Trudge. Come along, Wows! take a long last leave of your poor mistress: throw your pretty, ebony arms about her neck. Wows. No, no;she not go; you not leave poor Wowski. Throwing her arms about YARICO. Sir Chr. Poor girl! A companion, I take it! Trudge. A thing of my own, sir. I cou'dn't help following my master's example in the woodsLike master, like man, sir. Sir Chr. But you would not sell her, and be hang'd to you, you dog, would you? Trudge. Hang me, like a dog, if I would, sir. Sir Chr. So say I to every fellow that breaks an obligation due to the feelings of a man. But, old Medium, what have you to say for your hopeful nephew? Med. I never speak ill of my friends, Sir Christopher. Sir Chr. Pshaw! Inkle. Then let me speak: hear me defend a conduct Sir Chr. Defend! Zounds! plead guilty at onceit's the only hope left of obtaining mercy. Inkle. Suppose, old gentleman, you had a son? Sir Chr. 'Sblood! then I'd make him an honest fellow; and teach him, that the feeling heart never knows greater pride than when it's employed in giving succour to the unfortunate. I'd teach him to be his father's own son to a hair. Inkle. Even so my father tutored me: from my infancy, bending my tender mind, like a young sapling, to his willInterest was the grand prop round which he twined my pliant green affections: taught me in childhood to repeat old sayingsall tending to his own fixed principles, and the first sentence that I ever lisped, wasCharity begins at home. Sir Chr. I shall never like a proverb again, as long as I live. Inkle. As I grew up, he'd proveand by examplewere I in want, I might e'en starve, for what the world cared for their neighbours; why then should I care for the world? Men now lived for themselves. These were his doctrines: then, sir, what would you say, should I, in spite of habit, precept, education, fly in my father's face, and spurn his councils? Sir Chr. Say! why, that you were a damn'd honest, undutiful fellow. O curse such principles! Principles, which destroy all confidence between man and manPrinciples which none but a rogue could instil, and none but a rogue could imbibe.Principles Inkle. Which I renounce. Sir Chr. Eh! Inkle. Renounce entirely. Illfounded precept too long has steeled my breastbut still 'tis vulnerablethis trial was too muchNature, 'gainst habit combating within me, has penetrated to my heart; a heart, I own, long callous to the feelings of sensibility; but now it bleedsand bleeds for my poor Yarico. Oh, let me clasp her to it, while 'tis glowing, and mingle tears of love and penitence. Embracing her. Trudge. Capering about. Wows, give me a kiss! WOWSKI goes to TRUDGE. Yar. And shall weshall we be happy? Inkle. Aye; ever, ever, Yarico. Yar. I knew we shouldand yet I fearedbut shall I still watch over you? Oh! love, you surely gave your Yarico such pain, only to make her feel this happiness the greater. Wows. Going to YARICO. Oh Wowski so happy!and yet I think I not glad neither. Trudge. Eh, Wows! How!why not! Wows. 'Cause I can't help cry Sir Chr. Then, if that's the casecurse me, if I think I'm very glad either. What the plague's the matter with my eyes?Young man, your handI am now proud and happy to shake it. Med. Well, Sir Christopher, what do you say to my hopeful nephew now? Sir Chr. Say! Why, confound the fellow, I say, that is ungenerous enough to remember the bad action of a man who has virtue left in his heart to repent itAs for you, my good fellow, To TRUDGE. I must, with your master's permission, employ you myself. Trudge. O rare!Bless your honour!Wows! you'll be lady, you jade, to a governor's factotum. Wows. IssI Lady Jactotum. Sir Chr. And now, my young folks, we'll drive home, and celebrate the wedding. Od's my life! I long to be shaking a foot at the fiddles, and I shall dance ten times the lighter, for reforming an Inkle, while I have it in my power to reward the innocence of a Yarico. FINALE. La Belle Catharine. CAMPLEY. Come, let us dance and sing, While all Barbadoes bells shall ring: Love scrapes the fiddle string, And Venus plays the lute; Hymen gay, foots away, Happy at our weddingday, Cocks his chin, and figures in, To tabor, fife, and flute. CHORUS. Come then dance and sing, While all Barbadoes bells shall ring, c. NARCISSA. Since thus each anxious care Is vanished into empty air, Ah! how can I forbear To join the jocund dance? To and fro, couples go, On the light fantastic toe, White with glee, merrily, The rosy hours advance. Chorus. Come then, c. YARICO. When first the swelling sea Hither bore my love and me, What then my fate would be, Little did I think Doomed to know care and woe, Happy still is Yarico; Since her love will constant prove, And nobly scorns to shrink. Chorus. Come then, c. WOWSKI. Whilst all around, rejoice, Pipe and tabor raise the voice, It can't be Wowski's choice, Whilst Trudge's to be dumb. No, no, dey blithe and gay, Shall like massy, missy play. Dance and sing, hey ding, ding, Strike fiddle and beat drum. Chorus. Come then, c. TRUDGE. 'Sbobs! now, I'm fix'd for life, My fortune's fair, tho' black's my wife, Who fears domestic strife Who cares now a souse! Merry cheer my dingy dear Shall find with her Factotum heve; Night and day, I'll frisk and play About the house with Wows. Chorus. Come then, c. INKLE. Love's convert here behold, Banish'd now my thirst of gold, Bless'd in these arms to fold My gentle Yarico. Hence all care, doubt, and fear, Love and joy each want shall cheer, Happy night, pure delight, Shall make our bosoms glow. Chorus. Come then, c. PATTY. Let Patty say a word A chambermaid may sure be heard Sure men are grown absurd, Thus taking black for white; To hug and kiss a dingy miss, Will hardly suit an age like this, Unless, here, some friends appear, Who like this wedding night. Chorus. Come then, c. THE END. file was produced from images generously made available by Case Western Reserve University Preservation Department Digital Library) THE ODES OF ANACREON. 'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon Delevit tas.' Hor. Illustration THE ODES OF ANACREON. TRANSLATED BY THOMAS MOORE. WITH FIFTYFOUR ILLUSTRATIVE DESIGNS BY GIRODET DE ROUSSY. NOW FIRST PRODUCED IN ENGLAND. LONDON: JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY. LONDON: STRANGEWAYS AND WALDEN, PRINTERS, Castle St. Leicester Sq. INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH EDITION. Amongst the innumerable translators of Anacreon, there was onea Frenchman by birthwho was both an illustrious painter and a literary enthusiast. Girodet de Roussy, inspired by a genius altogether Greek in its character, has translated Anacreon better by his pencil than he could have been translated by words. One might fancy that his designs had been executed under Anacreon's own eye by some Greek artist, who had himself witnessed that soft and voluptuous existence, where song and pleasure are one. Seldom indeed have chasteness of execution and voluptuousness of character been so curiously and indissolubly blended. Seldom has a modern artist so happily caught the spirit of an ancient poet. We seem to be transported, as in a dream, to the vines, and orangegroves, and cloudless skies of Greece, and the wearied spirit abandons itself for a while to the soft influences of the azure heaven, the countless luxuriance of roses, the undulating forms of the fair girls dancing in the shade, while youthful attendants brim the beaker with wine. Under such influences we remember that youth, and love, and mirth are immortal, and we say with Horace, 'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon Delevit tas.'1 In that close wrestle of the genius that imitates with the genius that creates, Girodet alone came out from the trial successfully. He has shown himself the rival of Anacreon in grace, in abandon, in navet. He has succeeded in depicting his poet's theme with equal elegance and delicacy. Loving with a real love those old Greek songs, he has displayed them in living beauty before our eyes in fiftyfour exquisite drawings. To attempt such a masterpiece required a poet's as well as a painter's skill; and Girodet was both a painter and a poet. In examining these compositions, one cannot abstain from a certain kind of surprise: all the odes of Anacreon revolve upon two or three central ideas, expressed in a manner full of grace, unquestionably, but still always the same ideas. The artist, while not deviating from the narrow circle traced for him by the poet, shows a fecundity and variety that are truly marvellousthat astonish and enchant us at the same time. The nobility, elegance, and wealth of accessories that prevail throughout the whole series might, as we have already hinted, lead us to suppose that we owed them to one of the famous artists that Greece produced: the painter and the poet seem to have been born under one heaven, and informed with one soul. The manners of the time in which Anacreon lived permitted him to say many things which, in their crudity, might offend our modern taste. Girodet is not less voluptuous than Anacreon; but he always maintains that grace and delicacy which add so great a charm to the voluptuous: nowhere in his animated panorama is sight or sense shocked. These designs originally accompanied a translation of the Odes of Anacreon, made by the painter himself and published shortly after his death. Some small photographs of them on a greatly reduced scale appeared in 1864, in an exquisite little edition of the original Greek, from the press of Firmin Didot, at the almost prohibitive price of Two Pounds. The present reproductions are on a scale more proportionate with the originals, and constitute the first appearance of Girodet's designs in England, where, we feel assured, they will be appreciated as they deserve by all true lovers of classical art. The English versetranslation of Moore has been chosen to accompany them, because, though it has often been objected to by the learned for its imperfect scholarship, it seemed to us to be most in harmony with the real spirit of the great French painter, and of the old Greek poet himself. Oct. 25, 1869. FOOTNOTES: 1 'Time cannot raze Anacreon's name, Nor prey upon his youthful strains.' LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. FRONTISPIECETHE APOTHEOSIS OF ANACREON. PAGE THE LYRE OF ANACREON 15 NATURE'S GIFT TO WOMAN 19 CUPID BELATED 23 ANACREON TENDING CUPID 27 CUPID TRIES HIS BOW 31 LOVE AND WINE 35 THE ROSE 39 THE GENIUS OF FESTIVITY 43 A RACE WITH CUPID 47 ANACREON'S DREAM 51 THE DOVE 55 THE GIFT OF VENUS 59 THE DOVE TENDED BY ANACREON 63 THE IMAGE OF CUPID 67 AGE AND PLEASURE 71 THE CONFLICT WITH LOVE 75 THE SURRENDER 79 THE WREATH OF ROSES 83 THE VICTORY OF THE EYE 87 THE CUP 91 CUPID DISARMED 95 THE MIRROR 99 THE CHAPLET OF FLOWERS 103 THE TRUE WEALTH 107 THE POWER OF WINE 111 SONG AND DANCE 115 THE PORTRAIT 119 BATHYLLUS 123 THE RANSOM OF CUPID 127 THE FAIR FUGITIVE 131 THE LILY AND THE ROSE 135 EUROPA AND THE BULL 139 ANACREON DEFYING THE PHILOSOPHER 143 THE GRACES AND SPRING 147 THE SUMMONS TO FESTIVITY 151 THE BOWL OF WINE 155 VOWS TO VENUS 159 CUPID STUNG 163 THE DANCE OF MIRTH 167 THE FRONTLET OF HYACINTH 171 CAUGHT BY LOVE 175 THE LEMNIAN CAVE 179 THE EVERGREEN HEART 183 THE BLUSHING YEAR 187 THE QUEEN OF LOVE 191 THE ROSE 195 YOUTH AND DANCE 199 THE LOVER'S EYES 203 SPRING 207 VISION OF THE TEIAN BARD 211 THE HARP 215 BACCHANTS 219 CUPID IN THE GOBLET 223 ODE I. I often wish this languid lyre, This warbler of my soul's desire, Could raise the breath of song sublime, To men of fame in former time. But when the soaring theme I try, Along the chords my numbers die, And whisper, with dissolving tone, 'Our sighs are given to love alone!' Indignant at the feeble lay, I tore the panting chords away, Attuned them to a nobler swell, And struck again the breathing shell; Illustration In all the glow of epic fire, To Hercules I wake the lyre! But still its fainting sighs repeat, 'The tale of love alone is sweet!' Then fare thee well, seductive dream, That madest me follow Glory's theme; For thou my lyre, and thou my heart, Shall never more in spirit part; And thou the flame shalt feel as well As thou the flame shalt sweetly tell. ODE II. To all that breathe the airs of heaven, Some boon of strength has Nature given. When the majestic bull was born, She fenced his brow with wreathd horn. She arm'd the courser's foot of air, And wing'd with speed the panting hare. She gave the lion fangs of terror, And, on the ocean's crystal mirror, Taught the unnumber'd scaly throng To trace their liquid path along; While for the umbrage of the grove, Illustration She plumed the warbling bird of love. To man she gave the flame refined, The spark of heavena thinking mind! And had she no surpassing treasure, For thee, oh woman! child of pleasure? She gave thee beautyshaft of eyes, That every shaft of war outflies! She gave thee beautyblush of fire, That bids the flames of war retire! Woman! be fair, we must adore thee; Smile, and a world is weak before thee! ODE III. 'Twas noon of night, when round the pole The sullen Bear is seen to roll; And mortals, wearied with the day, Are slumbering all their cares away; An infant, at that dreary hour, Came weeping to my silent bower, And waked me with a piteous prayer, To save him from the midnight air! 'And who art thou,' I waking cry, 'That bidd'st my blissful visions fly?' 'O gentle sire!' the infant said, 'In pity take me to thy shed; Nor fear deceit: a lonely child I wander o'er the gloomy wild. Illustration Chill drops the rain, and not a ray Illumes the drear and misty way!' I hear the baby's tale of woe; I hear the bitter nightwinds blow; And sighing for his piteous fate, I trimm'd my lamp and oped the gate. 'Twas Love! the little wandering sprite, His pinion sparkled through the night! I knew him by his bow and dart; I knew him by my fluttering heart! I take him in, and fondly raise The dying embers' cheering blaze; Illustration Press from his dank and clinging hair The crystals of the freezing air, And in my hand and bosom hold His little fingers thrilling cold. And now the embers' genial ray Had warm'd his anxious fears away: 'I pray thee,' said the wanton child, (My bosom trembled as he smiled,) 'I pray thee let me try my bow, For through the rain I've wander'd so, That much I fear the ceaseless shower Has injured its elastic power.' The fatal bow the urchin drew; Swift from the string the arrow flew; Illustration Oh! swift it flew as glancing flame And to my very soul it came! 'Fare thee well,' I heard him say, As laughing wild he wing'd away: 'Fare thee well, for now I know The rain has not relax'd my bow; It still can send a maddening dart, As thou shalt own with all thy heart!' ODE IV. Strew me a breathing bed of leaves, Where lotos with the myrtle weaves; And while in luxury's dream I sink, Let me the balm of Bacchus drink! In this delicious hour of joy, Young Love shall be my gobletboy; Folding his little golden vest, With cinctures, round his snowy breast, Himself shall hover by my side, And minister the racy tide! Swift as the wheels that kindling roll, Our life is hurrying to the goal: A scanty dust, to feed the wind, Is all the trace 'twill leave behind. Why do we shed the rose's bloom Upon the cold insensate tomb? Can flowery breeze, or odour's breath, Illustration Affect the slumbering chill of death? No, no; I ask no balm to steep With fragrant tears my bed of sleep: But now, while every pulse is glowing, Now let me breathe the balsam flowing; Now let the rose, with blush of fire, Upon my brow its scent expire; And bring the nymph with floating eye, Oh! she will teach me how to die! Yes, Cupid! ere my soul retire, To join the blest elysian choir, With wine, and love, and blisses dear, I'll make my own elysium here! ODE V. Buds of roses, virgin flowers, Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers, In the bowl of Bacchus steep, Till with crimson drops they weep! Twine the rose, the garland twine, Every leaf distilling wine; Drink and smile, and learn to think That we were born to smile and drink. Rose! thou art the sweetest flower That ever drank the amber shower; Rose! thou art the fondest child Of dimpled Spring, the woodnymph wild! E'en the gods, who walk the sky, Are amorous of thy scented sigh. Cupid too, in Paphian shades, His hair with rosy fillet braids, When with the blushing naked Graces, The wanton winding dance he traces. Illustration Then bring me showers of roses, bring, And shed them round me while I sing: Great Bacchus! in thy hallow'd shade, With some celestial, glowing maid, While gales of roses round me rise, In perfume, sweeten'd by her sighs, I'll bill and twine in airy dance, Commingling soul with every glance! ODE VI. While our rosy fillets shed Blushes o'er each fervid head, With many a cup and many a smile The festal moments we beguile. And while the harp, impassion'd, flings Tuneful rapture from the strings, Some airy nymph, with fluent limbs, Through the dance luxuriant swims, Waving, in her snowy hand, The leafy Bacchanalian wand, Which, as the tripping wanton flies, Shakes its tresses to her sighs; A youth the while, with loosen'd hair, Floating on the listless air, Sings to the wild harp's tender tone, Illustration A tale of woes, alas! his own; And then what nectar in his sigh, As o'er his lip the murmurs die! Surely never yet has been So divine, so blest a scene! Has Cupid left the starry sphere, To wave his golden tresses here? Oh yes! and Venus, queen of wiles, And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles, All, all are here, to hail with me The genius of festivity! ODE VII. Arm'd with hyacinthine rod, (Arms enough for such a god,) Cupid bade me wing my pace, And try with him the rapid race, O'er the wild torrent, rude and deep. By tangled brake and pendent steep, With weary foot I panting flew, My brow was chill with drops of dew. And now my soul, exhausted, dying, Illustration To my lip was faintly flying; And now I thought the spark had fled, When Cupid hover'd o'er my head, And fanning light his breezy plume, Recall'd me from my languid gloom; Then said, in accents halfreproving, 'Why hast thou been a foe to loving?' ODE VIII. 'Twas night, and many a circling bowl Had deeply warmed my swimming soul; As lull'd in slumber I was laid, Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd! With virgins blooming as the dawn, I seem'd to trace the opening lawn; Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew, We flew, and sported as we flew! Some ruddy striplings, young and sleek, With blush of Bacchus on their cheek, Saw me trip the flowery wild With dimpled girls, and slily smiled; Smiled indeed with wanton glee, But, ah! 'twas plain they envied me. Illustration And still I flewand now I caught The panting nymphs, and fondly thought To kisswhen all my dream of joys, Dimpled girls and ruddy boys, All were gone! 'Alas!' I said, Sighing for the illusions fled, 'Sleep! again my joys restore, Oh! let me dream them o'er and o'er!' ODE IX. Tell me, why, my sweetest dove, Thus your humid pinions move, Shedding through the air in showers Essence of the balmiest flowers? Tell me whither, whence you rove, Tell me all, my sweetest dove. Curious stranger! I belong To the bard of Teian song: Illustration With his mandate now I fly To the nymph of azure eye; Ah! that eye has madden'd many, But the poet more than any! Venus, for a hymn of love, Warbled in her votive grove, ('Twas in sooth a gentle lay,) Gave me to the bard away. See me now his faithful minion, Thus with softlygliding pinion, To his lovely girl I bear Songs of passion through the air. Oft he blandly whispers me, 'Soon, my bird, I'll set you free.' But in vain he'll bid me fly, I shall serve him till I die. Illustration Never could my plumes sustain Ruffling winds and chilling rain, O'er the plains, or in the dell, On the mountain's savage swell; Seeking in the desert wood Gloomy shelter, rustic food. Now I lead a life of ease, Far from such retreats as these; From Anacreon's hand I eat Food delicious, viands sweet; Flutter o'er his goblet's brim, Sip the foamy wine with him. Then I dance and wanton round To the lyre's beguiling sound; Or with gentlyfanning wings Shade the minstrel while he sings: Illustration On his harp then sink in slumbers, Dreaming still of dulcet numbers! This is allawayaway You have made me waste the day. How I've chatter'd! prating crow Never yet did chatter so. ODE X. 'Tell me, gentle youth, I pray thee, What in purchase shall I pay thee For this little waxen toy, Image of the Paphian boy?' Thus I said the other day, To a youth who pass'd my way: 'Sir,' he answer'd, and the while Answer'd all in Doric style, 'Take it, for a trifle take it; Think not yet that I could make it; Pray, believe it was not I; Noit cost me many a sigh, And I can no longer keep Little gods, who murder sleep! Illustration Here, then, here,' (I said with joy) 'Here is silver for the boy: He shall be my bosom guest, Idol of my pious breast!' Little Love! thou now art mine, Warm me with that torch of thine; Make me feel as I have felt, Or thy waxen frame shall melt. I must burn in warm desire, Or thou, my boy, in yonder fire! ODE XI. The women tell me every day, That all my bloom has past away. 'Behold,' the pretty wantons cry, 'Behold this mirror with a sigh; The locks upon thy brow are few, And like the rest, they're withering too!' Whether decline has thinn'd my hair, I'm sure I neither know nor care; But this I know, and this I feel, Illustration As onward to the tomb I steal, That still as death approaches nearer, The joys of life are sweeter, dearer; And had I but an hour to live, That little hour to bliss I'd give! ODE XII. I will; I will; the conflict's past, And I'll consent to love at last. Cupid has long, with smiling art, Invited me to yield my heart; And I have thought that peace of mind Should not be for a smile resign'd; And I've repell'd the tender lure, And hoped my heart should sleep secure. But, slighted in his boasted charms, The angry infant flew to arms; He slung his quiver's golden frame, He took his bow, his shafts of flame, And proudly summon'd me to yield, Illustration Or meet him on the martial field. And what did I unthinking do? I took to arms, undaunted too; Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear, And, like Pelides, smiled at fear. Then (hear it, all you powers above!) I fought with Love! I fought with Love! And now his arrows all were shed And I had just in terrors fled When heaving an indignant sigh To see me thus unwounded fly, And having now no other dart, He glanced himself into my heart! My heartalas the luckless day! Received the god, and died away. Illustration Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield! Thy lord at length is forced to yield. Vain, vain, is every outward care, My foe's within, and triumphs there. ODE XIII. I care not for the idle state Of Persia's king, the rich, the great! I envy not the monarch's throne, Nor wish the treasured gold my own. But oh! be mine the rosy braid, The fervour of my brows to shade; Be mine the odours, richly sighing, Amidst my hoary tresses flying. Today, I'll haste to quaff my wine, As if tomorrow ne'er should shine; But if tomorrow comes, why then I'll haste to quaff my wine again. And thus while all our days are bright, Nor time has dimm'd their bloomy light, Illustration Let us the festal hours beguile With mantling cup and cordial smile; And shed from every bowl of wine The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine! For Death may come, with brow unpleasant, May come, when least we wish him present, And beckon to the sable shore, And grimly bid us drink no more! ODE XIV. Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms, Or tell the tale of Theban arms; With other wars my song shall burn, For other wounds my harp shall mourn. 'Twas not the crested warrior's dart, Which drank the current of my heart; Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed, Have made this vanquish'd bosom bleed; Illustration Nofrom an eye of liquid blue, A host of quiver'd cupids flew; And now my heart all bleeding lies Beneath this army of the eyes! ODE XV. Grave me a cup with brilliant grace, Deep as the rich and holy vase, Which on the shrine of Spring reposes, When shepherds hail that hour of roses. Grave it with themes of chaste design, Form'd for a heavenly bowl like mine. Display not there the barbarous rites, In which religious zeal delights; Illustration Nor any tale of tragic fate, Which history trembles to relate! Nocull thy fancies from above, Themes of heaven and themes of love. Let Bacchus, Jove's ambrosial boy, Distil the grape in drops of joy, And while he smiles at every tear, Let warmeyed Venus dancing near, With spirits of the genial bed, The dewy herbage deftly tread. Let Love be there, without his arms, In timid nakedness of charms; Illustration And all the Graces link'd with Love, Blushing through the shadowy grove; While rosy boys disporting round, In circlets trip the velvet ground; But ah! if there Apollo toys, I tremble for my rosy boys! ODE XVI. The Phrygian rock that braves the storm, Was once a weeping matron's form; And Progne, hapless, frantic maid, Is now a swallow in the shade. Oh! that a mirror's form were mine, To sparkle with that smile divine; And like my heart I then should be, Reflecting thee, and only thee! Or were I, love, the robe which flows O'er every charm that secret glows, In many a lucid fold to swim, And cling and grow to every limb! Oh! could I, as the streamlet's wave, Thy warmlymellowing beauties lave, Or float as perfume on thine hair, Illustration And breathe my soul in fragrance there! I wish I were the zone, that lies Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs! Or like those envious pearls that show So faintly round that neck of snow, Yes, I would be a happy gem, Like them to hang, to fade like them. What more would thy Anacreon be? Oh! anything that touches thee. Nay, sandals for those airy feet Thus to be press'd by thee were sweet! ODE XVII. Now the star of day is high, Fly, my girls, in pity fly, Bring me wine in brimming urns, Cool my lip, it burns, it burns! Sunn'd by the meridian fire, Panting, languid I expire! Give me all those humid flowers, Drop them o'er my brow in showers. Scarce a breathing chaplet now Lives upon my feverish brow; Illustration Every dewy rose I wear Sheds its tears and withers there. But for you, my burning mind! Oh! what shelter shall I find? Can the bowl, or floweret's dew, Cool the flame that scorches you? ODE XVIII. If hoarded gold possess'd a power To lengthen life's too fleeting hour, And purchase from the land of death A little span, a moment's breath, How I would love the precious ore! And every day should swell my store; That when the Fates would send their minion, To waft me off on shadowy pinion, I might some hours of life obtain, And bribe him back to hell again. But, since we ne'er can charm away The mandate of that awful day, Why do we vainly weep at fate, And sigh for life's uncertain date? The light of gold can ne'er illume The dreary midnight of the tomb! And why should I then pant for treasures? Illustration Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures; The goblet rich, the board of friends, Whose flowing souls the goblet blends: Mine be the nymph, whose form reposes Seductive on that bed of roses; And oh! be mine the soul's excess, Expiring in her warm caress! ODE XIX. When my thirsty soul I steep, Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep. Talk of monarchs! I am then Richest, happiest, first of men; Careless, o'er my cup I sing, Fancy makes me more than king; Gives me wealthy Croesus' store, Can I, can I wish for more? On my velvet couch reclining, Ivy leaves my brow entwining, While my soul dilates with glee, What are kings and crowns to me? Illustration If before my feet they lay, I would spurn them all away! Arm you, arm you, men of might, Hasten to the sanguine fight; Let me, oh my budding vine, Spill no other blood than thine. Yonder brimming goblet see, That alone shall vanquish me. Oh! I think it sweeter far To fall in banquet than in war! ODE XX. When Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy, The rosy harbinger of joy, Who, with the sunshine of the bowl, Thaws the winter of our soul; When to the inmost core he glides, And bathes it with his ruby tides, A flow of joy, a lively heat, Fires my brain, and wings my feet; 'Tis surely something sweet, I think, Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink! Illustration Sing, sing of love, let music's breath Softly beguile our rapturous death, While, my young Venus, thou and I To the voluptuous cadence die! Then waking from our languid trance, Again we'll sport, again we'll dance. ODE XXI. Thou, whose soft and rosy hues, Mimic form and soul infuse; Best of painters! come portray The lovely maid that's far away. Far away, my soul! thou art, But I've thy beauties all by heart. Paint her jetty ringlets straying, Silky twine in tendrils playing; And, if painting hath the skill To make the spicy balm distil, Let every little lock exhale A sigh of perfume on the gale. Where her tresses' curly flow Darkles o'er the brow of snow, Let her forehead beam to light, Burnish'd as the ivory bright. Let her eyebrows sweetly rise In jetty arches o'er her eyes, Gently in her crescent gliding, Just commingling, just dividing. But hast thou any sparkles warm, The lightning of her eyes to form? Illustration Let them effuse the azure ray With which Minerva's glances play, And give them all that liquid fire That Venus' languid eyes respire. O'er her nose and cheek be shed Flushing white and mellow'd red; Gradual tints, as when there glows In snowy milk the bashful rose. Then her lip, so rich in blisses! Sweet petitioner for kisses! Pouting nest of bland persuasion, Ripely suing Love's invasion. Then beneath the velvet chin, Whose dimple shades a love within, Mould her neck with grace descending. In a heaven of beauty ending; While airy charms, above, below, Sport and flutter on its snow. Now let a floating, lucid veil, Shadow her limbs, but not, conceal; A charm may peep, a hue may beam, And leave the rest to Fancy's dream. Enough'tis she! 'tis all I seek; It glows, it lives, it soon will speak. ODE XXII. And now with all thy pencil's truth, Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth! Let his hair in lapses bright, Fall like streaming rays of light, And there the raven's dye confuse With the yellow sunbeam's hues. Let not the braid, with artful twine, The flowing of his locks confine; But loosen every golden ring, To float upon the breeze's wing, Beneath the front of polished glow. Front as fair as mountainsnow, And guileless as the dews of dawn, Illustration Let the majestic brows be drawn, Of ebon dies, enriched by gold, Such as the scaly snakes unfold. Mingle in his jetty glances, Power that awes, and love that trances; Steal from Venus bland desire, Steal from Mars the look of fire, Blend them in such expression here, That we by turns may hope and fear! Now from the sunny apple seek The velvet down that spreads his cheek; And there let Beauty's rosy ray In flying blushes richly play; Blushes, of that celestial flame Which lights the cheek of virgin shame. Then for his lips, that ripely gem But let thy mind imagine them! Paint, where the ruby cell uncloses, Persuasion sleeping upon roses; And give his lip that speaking air, As if a word was hovering there! His neck of ivory splendour trace, Moulded with soft but manly grace; Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy, Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy. Give him the winged Hermes' hand. With which he waves his snaky wand: Let Bacchus then the breast supply, And Leda's son the sinewy thigh. But oh! suffuse his limbs of fire With all that glow of young desire, Illustration Which kindles, when the wishful sigh Steals from the heart, unconscious why. Thy pencil, though divinely bright, Is envious of the eye's delight, Or its enamoured touch would shew His shoulder, fair as sunless snow, Which now in veiling shadow lies, Removed from all but Fancy's eyes, Now, for his feetbut holdforbear I see a godlike portrait there; So like Bathyllus! sure there's none So like Bathyllus but the Sun! Oh! let this pictured god be mine, And keep the boy for Samos' shrine; Phoebus shall then Bathyllus be, Bathyllus then the deity! ODE XXIII. One day, the Muses twined the hands Of baby Love, with flowery bands; And to celestial Beauty gave The captive infant as her slave. His mother comes with many a toy, To ransom her beloved boy; His mother sues, but all in vain! Illustration He ne'er will leave his chains again. Nay, should they take his chains away, The little captive still would stay. 'If this,' he cries, 'a bondage be, Who could wish for liberty?' ODE XXIV. Fly not thus my brow of snow, Lovely wanton! fly not so. Though the wane of age is mine, Though the brilliant flush is thine, Still I'm doom'd to sigh for thee, Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me! See, in yonder flowery braid, Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid, Illustration How the rose, of orient glow, Mingles with the lily's snow; Mark, how sweet their tints agree, Just, my girl, like thee and me! ODE XXV. Methinks, the pictur'd bull we see Is amorous Joveit must be he! How fondly blest he seems to bear That fairest of Phoenician fair! How proud he breasts the foamy tide And spurns the billowy surge aside! Could any beast of vulgar vein, Undaunted thus defy the main? No: he descends from climes above, He looks the God, he breathes of Jove! Illustration ODE XXVI. Away, away, you men of rules, What have I to do with schools? They'd make me learn, they'd make me think, But would they make me love and drink? Teach me this; and let me swim My soul upon the goblet's brim; Teach me this, and let me twine My arms around the nymph divine! Age begins to blanch my brow, I've time for nought but pleasure now. Fly, and cool my goblet's glow At yonder fountain's gelid flow; I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink Illustration This soul to slumber as I drink! Soon, too soon, my jocund slave, You'll deck your master's grassy grave; And there's an endfor ah! you know They drink but little wine below! ODE XXVII. See the young, the rosy Spring, Gives to the breeze her spangled wing; While virgin Graces, warm with May, Fling roses o'er her dewy way! The murmuring billows of the deep Have languished into silent sleep; And mark! the flitting seabirds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky. Now the genial star of day Illustration Dissolves the murky clouds away; And cultur'd field, and winding stream, Are sweetly tissued by his beam. Now the earth prolific swells With leafy buds and flowery bells; Gemming shoots the olive twine, Clusters ripe festoon the vine; All along the branches creeping, Through the velvet foliage peeping, Little infant fruits we see Nursing into luxury! ODE XXVIII. 'Tis true, my fading years decline, Yet I can quaff the brimming wine, As deep as any stripling fair, Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear; And if, amidst the wanton crew, I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue, Thou shall behold this vigorous hand, Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand, Illustration But brandishing a rosy flask, The only Thyrsus e'er I'll ask! Let those who pant for Glory's charms, Embrace her in the held of arms; While my inglorious placid soul Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl. Then fill it high, my ruddy slave, And bathe me in its honied wave! For though my fading years decay, And though my bloom has passed away, Like old Silenus, sire divine, With blushes borrowed from my wine, I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train, And live my follies all again! Illustration ODE XXIX. When I drink, I feel, I feel, Visions of poetic zeal! Warm with the goblet's fresh'ning dews, My heart invokes the heavenly Muse. When I drink my sorrow's o'er; I think of doubts and fears no more; But scatter to the railing wind Each gloomy phantom of the mind! When I drink, the jesting boy Bacchus himself partakes my joy; And while we dance through breathing bowers, Whose every gale is rich with flowers, In bowls he makes my senses swim, Till the gale breathes of nought but him! When I drink, I deftly twine Flowers, begemm'd with tears of wine; And, while with festive hand I spread The smiling garland round my head, Something whispers in my breast, How sweet it is to live at rest! When I drink, and perfume stills Around me all in balmy rills, Then as some beauty, smiling roses, In languor on my breast reposes, Venus! I breathe my vows to thee, In many a sigh of luxury! When I drink, my heart refines, And rises as the cup declines; Illustration Rises in the genial flow, That none but social spirits know, When youthful revellers round the bowl, Dilating, mingle soul with soul! When I drink, the bliss is mine; There's bliss in every drop of wine! All other joys that I have known, I've scarcely dared to call my own; But this the Fates can ne'er destroy, Till death o'ershadows all my joy! ODE XXX. Cupid once upon a bed Of roses laid his weary head; Luckless urchin, not to see Within the leaves a slumbering bee! The bee awakedwith anger wild The bee awaked, and stung the child. Loud and piteous are his cries; To Venus quick he runs, he flies! 'Oh, mother!I am wounded through I die with painin sooth I do! Stung by some little angry thing, Some serpent on a tiny wing A bee it wasfor once, I know Illustration I heard a rustic call it so.' Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, 'My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wildbee's touch, How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be, The hapless heart that's stung by thee?' ODE XXXI. Let us drain the nectar'd bowl, Let us raise the song of soul To him, the God who loves so well The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell! Him, who instructs the sons of earth To thrid the tangled dance of mirth; Him, who was nursed with infant Love, And cradled in the Paphian grove; Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms Has fondled in her twining arms. From him that dream of transport flows, Which sweet intoxication knows; With him, the brow forgets to darkle, And brilliant graces learn to sparkle. Behold! my boys a goblet bear, Whose sunny foam bedews the air. Where are now the tear, the sigh? To the winds they fly, they fly! Illustration Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking, Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking! Oh! can the tears we lend to thought In life's account avail us aught? Can we discern, with all our lore, The path we're yet to journey o'er? No, no! the walk of life is dark; 'Tis wine alone can strike a spark! Then let me quaff the foamy tide, And through the dance meandering glide; Let me imbibe the spicy breath Of odours chafed to fragrant death; Or from the kiss of love inhale A more voluptuous, richer gale! To souls that court the phantom Care, Let him retire and shroud him there; While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl, And swell the choral song of soul To him, the God who loves so well The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell! ODE XXXII. Yes, be the glorious revel mine, Where humour sparkles from the wine! Around me let the youthful choir Respond to my beguiling lyre; And while the red cup circles round, Mingle in soul as well as sound! Let the bright nymph, with trembling eye, Beside me all in blushes lie; And, while she weaves a frontlet fair Of hyacinth to deck my hair, Oh! let me snatch her sidelong kisses, And that shall be my bliss of blisses! My soul, to festive feeling true, One pang of envy never knew; Illustration And little has it learn'd to dread The gall that envy's tongue can shed. AwayI hate the slanderous dart, Which steals to wound th' unwary heart; And oh! I hate, with all my soul, Discordant clamours o'er the bowl, Where every cordial heart should be Attuned to peace and harmony. Come, let us hear the soul of song Expire the silver harp along; And through the dance's ringlet move, With maidens mellowing into love: Thus simply happy, thus at peace, Sure such a life should never cease! ODE XXXIII. 'Twas in an airy dream of night, I fancied that I wing'd my flight On pinions fleeter than the wind, While little Love, whose feet were twined (I know not why) with chains of lead, Pursued me as I trembling fled; Pursuedand could I e'er have thought? Swift as the moment I was caught! What does the wanton fancy mean By such a strange, illusive scene? Illustration I fear she whispers to my breast, That you, my girl, have stol'n my rest; That though my fancy, for a while, Has hung on many a woman's smile, I soon dissolved the passing vow, And ne'er was caught by love till now! ODE XXXIV. As in the Lemnian caves of fire, The mate of her who nursed Desire Moulded the glowing steel, to form Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm; While Venus every barb imbues With droppings of her honied dews; And Love (alas the victimheart!) Tinges with gall the burning dart; Once, to this Lemnian cave of flame, The crested Lord of battles came; 'Twas from the ranks of war he rush'd, His spear with many a lifedrop blush'd! He saw the mystic darts, and smiled Derision on the archerchild. Illustration 'And dost thou smile?' said little Love; 'Take this dart, and thou mayst prove, That though they pass the breeze's flight, My bolts are not so feathery light.' He took the shaftand oh! thy look, Sweet Venus! when the shaft he took He sigh'd, and felt the urchin's art; He sigh'd, in agony of heart, 'It is not lightI die with pain! Taketake thy arrow back again.' 'No,' said the child, 'it must not be, That little dart was made for thee!' ODE XXXV. How I love the festive boy, Tripping wild the dance of joy! How I love the mellow sage, Smiling through the veil of age! And whene'er this man of years In the dance of joy appears, Age is on his temples hung, But his hearthis heart is young! Illustration ODE XXXVI. He, who instructs the youthful crew To bathe them in the brimmer's dew, And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses, All the bliss that wine possesses! He, who inspires the youth to glance In winged circlets through the dance; Bacchus, the god again is here, And leads along the blushing year; The blushing year with rapture teems, Ready to shed those cordial streams, Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth, Illuminate the sons of earth, And when the ripe and vermeil wine, Sweet infant of the pregnant vine, Which now in mellow clusters swells, Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells, The heavenly stream shall mantling flow, To balsam every mortal woe! No youth shall then be wan or weak, For dimpling health shall light the cheek; No heart shall then desponding sigh, For wine shall bid despondence fly! Thustill another autumn's glow Shall bid another vintage flow! Illustration ODE XXXVII. And whose immortal hand could shed Upon this disk the ocean's bed? And, in a frenzied flight of soul Sublime as heaven's eternal pole, Imagine thus, in semblance warm, The Queen of Love's voluptuous form Floating along the silvery sea In beauty's naked majesty! Oh! he has given the raptured sight A witching banquet of delight; And all those sacred scenes of love, Where only hallow'd eyes may rove, Lie, faintly glowing, half conceal'd, Within the lucid billows veil'd. Light as the leaf, that summer's breeze Has wafted o'er the glassy seas, She floats upon the ocean's breast, Which undulates in sleepy rest, And stealing on, she gently pillows Her bosom on the amorous billows. Her bosom, like the humid rose, Her neck, like dewysparkling snows, Illume the liquid path she traces, And burn within the stream's embraces! In languid luxury soft she glides, Encircled by the azure tides, Like some fair lily, faint with weeping, Upon a bed of violets sleeping! Beneath their queen's inspiring glance, The dolphins o'er the green sea dance, Bearing in triumph young Desire, And baby Love with smiles of fire! While, sparkling on the silver waves, The tenants of the briny caves Around the pomp in eddies play, And gleam along the watery way. Illustration ODE XXXVIII. While we invoke the wreathed spring, Resplendent rose! to thee we'll sing; Resplendent rose, the flower of flowers, Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers; Whose virgin blush of chasten'd dye, Enchants so much our mortal eye. When pleasure's bloomy season glows, The Graces love to twine the rose; The rose is warm Dione's bliss, And flushes like Dione's kiss! Oft has the poet's magic tongue The rose's fair luxuriance sung; And long the Muses, heavenly maids, Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades. When, at the early glance of morn, It sleeps upon the glittering thorn, 'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence, To cull the timid flowret thence, And wipe with tender hand away The tear that on its blushes lay! 'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems, Yet dropping with Aurora's gems, And fresh inhale the spicy sighs That from the weeping buds arise. When revel reigns, when mirth is high, And Bacchus beams in every eye, Our rosy fillets scent exhale, And fill with balm the fainting gale! Oh! there is nought in nature bright, Where roses do not shed their light! When morning paints the orient skies, Her fingers burn with roseate dyes; The nymphs display the rose's charms, It mantles o'er their graceful arms; Through Cytherea's form it glows, And mingles with the living snows. The rose distils a healing balm, The beating pulse of pain to calm; Preserves the cold inurned clay, And mocks the vestige of decay: And when at length, in pale decline, Its florid beauties fade and pine, Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath Diffuses odour e'en in death! Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung? Attendfor thus the tale is sung. Illustration When, humid, from the silvery stream, Effusing beauty's warmest beam, Venus appear'd, in flushing hues, Mellow'd by ocean's briny dews; When, in the starry courts above, The pregnant brain of mighty Jove Disclosed the nymph of azure glance, The nymph who shakes the martial lance! Then, then, in strange eventful hour, The earth produced an infant flower, Which sprung, with blushing tinctures drest, And wanton'd o'er its parent breast. The gods beheld this brilliant birth, And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth! With nectar drops, a ruby tide, The sweetly orient buds they dyd, And bade them bloom, the flowers divine Of him who sheds the teeming vine; And bade them on the spangled thorn Expand their bosoms to the morn. ODE XXXIX. When I behold the festive train Of dancing youth, I'm young again! Memory wakes her magic trance, And wings me lightly through the dance. Come, Cybeba, smiling maid! Cull the flower and twine the braid; Bid the blush of summer's rose Burn upon my brow of snows; And let me, while the wild and young Trip the mazy dance along, Fling my heap of years away, And be as wild, as young as they. Illustration Hither haste, some cordial soul! Give my lips the brimming bowl; Oh! you will see this hoary sage Forget his locks, forget his age. He still can chant the festive hymn, He still can kiss the goblet's brim; He still can act the mellow raver, And play the fool as sweet as ever! ODE XL. We read the flying courser's name Upon his side in marks of flame; And, by their turban'd brows alone, The warriors of the East are known. But in the lover's glowing eyes, The inlet to his bosom lies; Illustration Thro' them we see the small faint mark, Where Love has dropt his burning spark! ODE XLI. When Spring begems the dewy scene, How sweet to walk the velvet green, And hear the Zephyr's languid sighs, As o'er the scented mead he flies! How sweet to mark the pouting vine, Ready to fall in tears of wine; Illustration And with the maid, whose every sigh Is love and bliss, entranced to lie Where the imbowering branches meet Oh! is not this divinely sweet? ODE XLII. I saw the smiling bard of pleasure, The minstrel of the Teian measure; 'Twas in a vision of the night. He beam'd upon my wond'ring sight; I heard his voice, and warmly prest The dear enthusiast to my breast. His tresses wore a silvery dye, But beauty sparkled in his eye; Sparkled in his eyes of fire, Through the mist of soft desire. His lip exhaled, whene'er he sigh'd, The fragrance of the racy tide; And, as with weak and reeling feet, He came my coral kiss to meet, Illustration An infant, of the Cyprian band, Guided him on with tender hand. Quick from his glowing brows he drew His braid, of many a wanton hue, I took the braid of wanton twine, It breathed of him and blush'd with wine! I hung it o'er my thoughtless brow, And ah! I feel its magic now! I feel that e'en his garland's touch Can make the bosom love too much! ODE XLIII. Give me the harp of epic song, Which Homer's finger thrill'd along; But tear away the sanguine string, For war is not the theme I sing. Proclaim the laws of festal right I'm monarch of the board tonight; And all around shall brim as high, And quaff the tide as deep as I! And when the cluster's mellowing dews Their warm, enchanting balm infuse Our feet shall catch th' elastic bound, And reel us through the dance's round. Illustration Oh, Bacchus! we shall sing to thee, In wild but sweet ebriety! And flash around such sparks of thought, As Bacchus could alone have taught! Then give the harp of epic song, Which Homer's finger thrill'd along; But tear away the sanguine string, For war is not the theme I sing! ODE XLIV. Listen to the Muse's lyre, Master of the pencil's fire! Sketch'd in painting's bold display, Many a city first pourtray; Many a city revelling free, Warm with loose festivity. Picture then a rosy train, Bacchants straying o'er the plain; Piping, as they roam along, Roundelay or shepherdsong. Illustration Paint me next, if painting may Such a theme as this pourtray, All the happy heaven of love, These elect of Cupid prove. ODE XLV. As late I sought the spangled bowers, To cull a wreath of matin flowers, Where many an early rose was weeping, I found the urchin Cupid sleeping. I caught the boy, a goblet's tide Was richly mantling by my side, I caught him by his downy wing, And whelm'd him in the racy spring. Illustration Oh! then I drank the poison'd bowl, And Love now nestles in my soul! Yes, yes, my soul is Cupid's nest, I feel him fluttering in my breast. CHOICE ILLUSTRATED WORKS. Lives of the Saints. Enriched with 51 exquisite fullpage Miniatures in gold and colours, bound in silk velvet, enriched with gold, 7l. 7s. Saint Ursula, Princess of Britain, and her Companions. Illustrated with 25 fullpage 4to Illuminated Miniatures by VAN EYCK, bound in purple satin, enriched with gold, 3l. 15s. Golden Verses from the New Testament, with 50 Illuminations and Miniatures from celebrated Missals, in gold and colours, 30s. The Author's Own Edition. Robinson Crusoe, Illustrated by ERNEST GRISET, 7s. 6d. 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Transcriber's Notes In Ode III, beginning of last line on page 26, the word 'The' is mostly illegible and has been added by comparison with another version of the text. In Ode III, after the phrase 'my blissful visions fly?', the missing punctuation mark ' has been added. In Ode VII, after 'rapid race', period has been replaced with comma. In Ode X, after the phrase 'who murder sleep!' The single quotation mark ' has been deleted. In Ode XXIII, after the phrase 'wish for liberty', the missing punctuation marks ?' have been added. There are three words with the oe ligature. This is normalised to 'oe' in the text file; in the HTML file the ligature has been retained. There is one word with the 'ae' ligature; this has been retained in both versions. Illustration: Route of M de Lesseps Consul of France, in the PENINSULA of KAMTSCHATKA, and along the GULF of PENGINA, from the Port of St. Peter  St. Paul as far as Yamsk. TRAVELS IN KAMTSCHATKA, DURING THE YEARS 1787 AND 1788. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. DE LESSEPS, CONSUL OF FRANCE, AND INTERPRETER TO THE COUNT DE LA PEROUSE, NOW ENGAGED IN A VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD, BY COMMAND OF HIS MOST CHRISTIAN MAJESTY. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOLUME I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. 1790. PREFACE. My work is merely a journal of my travels. Why should I take any steps to prepossess the judgment of my reader? Shall I not have more claim to his indulgence when I have assured him, that it was not originally my intention to write a book? Will not my account be the more interesting, when it is known, that my sole inducement to employ my pen was the necessity I found of filling up my leisure moments, and that my vanity extended no farther than to give my friends a faithful journal of the difficulties I had to encounter, and the observations I made on my road? It is evident I wrote by intervals, negligently or with care, as circumstances permitted, or as the impressions made by the objects around me were more or less forcible. Conscious of my own inexperience, I thought it a duty I owed myself to let slip no opportunity of acquiring information, as if I had foreseen, that I should be called to account for the time I had spent, and the knowledge which I had it in my power to obtain: but perhaps the scrupulous exactness to which I confined myself, entailed on my narration a want of elegance and variety. The events which relate personally to myself are so connected with the subject of my remarks, that I have taken no care to suppress them. I may therefore, not undeservedly, be reproached with having spoken too much of myself: but this is the prevailing sin of travellers of my age. Besides this, I am ready to accuse myself of frequent repetitions, which would have been avoided by a more experienced pen. On certain subjects, particularly in respect of travels, it is scarcely possible to avoid an uniformity of style. To paint the same objects, we must employ the same colours; hence similar expressions are continually recurring. With respect to the pronunciation of the Russian, Kamtschadale, and other foreign words, I shall observe, that all the letters are to be articulated distinctly. I have thought it adviseable, even in the vocabulary, to reject those consonants, the confused assemblage of which discourages the reader, and is not always necessary, The kh is to be pronounced as the ch of the Germans, or the j of the Spaniards, and the ch as in the French. The finals oi and in, are to be pronounced, the former as an improper diphthong (o) and the latter in the English, not in the French manner. The delay of publishing this journal renders some excuse necessary. Unquestionably I might have given it to the world sooner, and it was my duty to have done it; but my gratitude bad me wait the return of the count de la Perouse. What is my journey, said I to myself? To the public, it is only an appendage to the important expedition of that gentleman; to myself, it is an honourable proof of his confidence: I had a double motive to submit my account to his inspection. My own interest also prescribed this to me. How happy should I have been, if, permitting me to publish my travels as a supplement to his, he had deigned to render me an associate of his fame! This, I confess, was the sole end of my ambition; the sole cause of my delay. How cruel for me, after a year of impatient expectation, to see the wished for period still more distant! Not a day has passed since my arrival, on which my wishes have not recalled the Astrolabe and Boussole. How often, traversing in imagination the seas they had to cross, have I sought to trace their progress, to follow then from port to port, to calculate their delays, and to measure all the windings of their course! When at the moment of our separation in Kamtschatka, the officers of our vessels sorrowfully embraced me as lost, who would have said, that I should first revisit my native country; that many of them would never see it more; and that in a little time I should shed tears over their fate! Scarcely, in effect, had I time to congratulate myself on the success of my mission, and the embraces of my family, when the report of our misfortunes in the Archipelago of navigators arrived, to fill my heart with sorrow and affection. The viscount de Langle, that brave and loyal seaman, the friend, the companion of our commander; a man whom I loved and respected as my father, is no more! My pen refuses to trace his unfortunate end, but my gratitude indulges itself in repeating, that the remembrance of his virtues and his kindness to me, will live eternally in my bosom. Reader, who ever thou art, pardon this involuntary effusion of my grief. Hadst thou known him whom I lament, thou wouldst mingle thy tears with mine: like me thou wouldst pray to Heaven, that, for our consolation, and for the glory of France, the commander of the expedition, and those of our brave Argonauts, whom it has preserved, may soon return. Ah! if whilst I write, a favourable gale should fill their sails, and impel them towards our shores!May this prayer of my heart be heard! May the day on which these volumes are published, be that of their arrival! In the excess of my joy, my selflove would find the highest gratification. CONTENTS TO VOL. I. Page I quit the French frigates, and receive my dispatches 3 Departure of the frigates 6 Impossibility of going to Okotsk before sledges can be used 7 Details respecting the port of St. Peter and St. Paul 9 Nature of the soil 15 Climate 16 Rivers that have their mouth in the bay of Avatscha 18 Departure from St. Peter and St. Paul's with M. Kasloff and M. Schmaleff 19 Arrival at Paratounka 22 Description of this ostrog 23 Kamtschadale habitations 24 Balagans 25 Isbas 28 Chief or judge of an ostrog 31 Arrival at Koriaki 37 Arrival at the baths of Natchikin 38 Description of the baths 41 Mode of analizing the hot waters 46 Result of our experiments 50 Mode of hunting a sable 55 Departure from Natchikin, and details of our journey 59 Arrival at Apatchin 65 At Bolcheretsk, c. 66 Shipwreck of an Okotsk galiot 68 Hamlet of Tchekafki 70 Mouth of the Bolchaareka 71 Terrible hurricane 74 Description of Bolcheretsk, where I stayed till 27 January 1788 76 Population 80 Fraudulent commerce of the Cossacs and others 81 Commerce in general 84 Mode of living of the inhabitants and the Kamtschades in general 87 Dress ib. Food 88 Drink 93 Indigenes 94 Reflections on the manners of the inhabitants 97 Balls 101 Kamtschadale feasts and dances 103 Bear hunting 106 Hunting 110 Fishing 114 Scarcity of horses 115 Dogs ib. Sledges 118 Diseases 127 Medical sorcerers 130 Strong constitution of the women 133 Remedy learned from the bear 134 Religion 135 Churches 137 Tributes 138 Coins 139 Pay of the soldiers 140 Government ib. Tribunals 143 Successions 144 Divorces ib. Punishments 145 Idiom 146 Climate 147 My long stay at Bolcheretsk accounted for 150 Departure from Bolcheretsk 152 Arrival at Apatchin 155 Origin of the ill opinion the inhabitants of Kamtschatka have of the French 156 Beniouski 157 M. Schmaleff quits us 158 Arrival at Malkin 159 At Ganal 162 At Pouschin 164 Isbas without chimneys ib. Kamtschadale lamp 165 Filthiness of the inhabitants 166 The roads obstructed with snow 167 Ostrog of Charom 168 Arrival at Vereknei Kamtschatka ib. Ivaschin, an unfortunate exile 170 Colony of peasants 172 Ostrog of Kirgann 175 Description of my dress 177 Visit the baron Stenheil at Machoure 180 New details respecting the chamans or sorcerers 181 Alarmed at a report of the Koriacs having revolted 188 Nikoulka rivers 191 Volcanos of Tolbatchina 192 Early marriages 194 I quit M. Kasloff to go to Nijenei Kamtschatka 195 Ostrog of Ouchkoff 196 Of Krestoff 197 Volcano of Klutchefskaa 198 Klutchefskaa inhabited by Siberian peasants ib. Ostrog of Kamini 201 Arrival at Nijenei ib. Entertainment given by the governor 204 Tribunals of Nijenei 207 Account of nine Japanese whom I found there 208 Departure from Nijenei Kamtschatka 217 I rejoin M. Kasloff 219 Overtaken by a tempest, which obliges us to halt ib. Manner in which the Kamtschades made their bed on the snow 221 Ostrog of Ozernoi 223 Of Onk ib. Of Khalali 225 Of Ivaschin 227 Of Drannki 228 Of Karagui 229 Yourts described 230 Singular dress of the children of Karagui 234 Koriacs supply us with rein deer 236 Account of the two sorts of Koriacs 237 A celebrated female dancer 240 Fondness of the Kamtschadales for tobacco 243 Departure from Karagui 246 Manner of our halting in the open country 247 Our dogs begin to suffer from famine 248 Soldier sent to Kaminoi for succour 249 Arrival at Gavenki 250 Dispute between a sergeant of our company and two peasants of the village 251 The inhabitants refuse us fish 254 Departure from Gavenki 256 Misled by our guide 257 Our dogs die of hunger and fatigue 258 We are apprehhensive of being starved to death in a desert ib. Obliged to leave our equipage 259 New distresses ib. Arrival at Poustaretsk 262 Fruitless attempts to find provisions 263 Melancholy spectacle exhibited by our dogs ib. Soldier sent to Kaminoi, stopt in his way by tempests 265 Sergeant Kabechoff sets out for Kaminoi 266 Description of Poustaretsk and its environs 267 Food upon which the inhabitants lived during our stay 268 Their mode of catching rein deer 269 Occupations of the women 270 Method of smoking 271 Dress 272 M. Schmaleff joins us 273 Distressing answer from sergeant Kabechoff 274 M. Kasloff receives news of his promotion 275 I resolve to leave him 276 Calm established among the Koriacs 278 M. Kasloff gives me his dispatches, and the passports necessary for my safety 280 My regret at leaving him 281 TRAVELS IN KAMTSCHATKA, c. I have scarcely completed my twentyfifth year, and am arrived at the most memorable ra of my life. However long, or however happy may be my future career, I doubt whether it will ever be my fate to be employed in so glorious an expedition as that in which two French frigates, the Boussole, and the Astrolabe, are at this moment engaged; the first commanded by count de la Perouse, chief of the expedition, and the second by viscount de Langle1. The report of this voyage round the world, created too general and lively an interest, for direct news of these illustrious navigators, reclaimed by their country and by all Europe from the seas they traverse, not to be expected with as much impatience as curiosity. How flattering is it to my heart, after having obtained from count de la Perouse the advantage of accompanying him for more than two years, to be farther indebted to him for the honour of conveying his dispatches over land into France! The more I reflect upon this additional proof of his confidence, the more I feel what such an embassy requires, and how far I am deficient; and I can only attribute his preference, to the necessity of choosing for this journey, a person who had resided in Russia, and could speak its language. On the 6 September 1787, the king's frigates entered the port of Avatscha, or Saint Peter and Saint Paul2, at the southern extremity of the peninsula of Kamtschatka. The 29, I was ordered to quit the Astrolabe; and the same day count de la Perouse gave me his dispatches and instructions. His regard for me would not permit him to confine his cares to the most satisfactory arrangements for the safety and convenience of my journey; he went farther, and gave me the affectionate counsels of a father, which will never be obliterated from my heart. Viscount de Langle had the goodness to join his also, which proved equally beneficial to me. Let me be permitted in this place to pay my just tribute of gratitude to the faithful companion of the dangers and the glory of count de la Perouse, and his rival in every other court, as well as that of France, for having acted towards me, upon all occasions, as a counsellor, a friend, and a father. In the evening I was to take my leave of the commander and his worthy colleague. Judge what I suffered, when I conducted them back to the boats that waited for them. I was incapable of speaking, or of quitting them; they embraced me in turns, and my tears too plainly told them the situation of my mind. The officers who were on shore, received also my adieux: they were affected, offered prayers to heaven for my safety, and gave me every consolation and succour that their friendship could dictate. My regret at leaving them cannot be described; I was torn from their arms, and found myself in those of colonel KasloffOugrenin, governor general of Okotsk and Kamtschatka, to whom count de la Perouse had recommended me, more as his son, than an officer charged with his dispatches. At this moment commenced my obligations to the Russian governor. I knew not then all the sweetness of his character, incessantly disposed to acts of kindness, and which I have since had so many reasons to admire3. He treated my feelings with the utmost address. I saw the tear of sympathy in his eye upon the departure of the boats, which we followed as far as our sight would permit; and in conducting me to his house, he spared no pains to divert me from my melancholy reflections. To conceive the frightful void which my mind experienced at this moment, it is necessary to be in my situation, and left alone in these scarcely discovered regions, four thousand leagues from my native land: without calculating this enormous distance, the dreary aspect of the country sufficiently prognosticated what I should have to suffer during my long and perilous route; but the reception which I met with from the inhabitants, and the civilities of M. Kasloff and the other Russian officers, made me by degrees less sensible to the departure of my countrymen. It took place on the morning of 30 September. They set sail with a wind that carried them out of sight in a few hours, and continued favourable for several days. It will readily be believed, that I did not see them depart without offering the most sincere wishes for all my friends on board; the last sad homage of my gratitude and attachment. Count de la Perouse had recommended diligence to me, but enjoined me, at the same time, upon no pretext to quit M. Kasloff; an injunction that was perfectly agreeable to my inclinations. The governor had promised to conduct me as far as Okotsk, which was the place of his residence, and to which it was necessary that he should repair immediately. I had already felt the happiness of being placed in such good hands, and I made no scruple of surrendering myself implicitly to his direction. His intention was to go as far as Bolcheretsk, and there wait till we could avail ourselves of sledges, which would greatly facilitate our journey to Okotsk. The season was too far advanced for us to risk an attempt by land, and the passage by sea was not less dangerous; besides there was no vessel either in the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, or of Bolcheretsk4. M. Kasloff had his affairs to settle, which, with the preparations for our departure, detained us six days longer, and afforded me time to satisfy myself that the frigates were not likely to return. I embraced this opportunity of commencing my observations, and making minutes of every thing about me. I attended particularly to the bay of Avatcha, and the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, in order to give a just idea of them. This bay has been minutely described by captain Cook, and we found his account to be accurate. It has since undergone some alterations; which, it is said, are to be followed by many others; particularly as to the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. It is possible indeed, that the very next ship which shall arrive, expecting to find only five or six houses, may be surprised with the sight of an entire town, built of wood, but tolerably fortified. Such at least is the projected plan, which, as I learned indirectly, is to be ascribed to M. Kasloff, whose views are equally great, and conducive to the service of his mistress. The execution of this plan will contribute not a little to increase the celebrity of the port, already made famous by the foreign vessels which have touched there, as well as by its favourable situation for commerce5. To understand the nature, and estimate the utility of this project, nothing more is necessary than to have an idea of the extent and form of the bay of Avatscha, and the port in question. We have already many accurate descriptions, which are in the hands of every one. I shall therefore confine myself to what may tend to illustrate the views of M. Kasloff. The port of St. Peter and St. Paul, is known to be situated at the north of the entrance of the bay, and closed in at the south by a very narrow neck of land, upon which the ostrog6, or village of Kamtschatka is built. Upon an eminence to the east, at the most interior point of the bay, is the house of the governor7, with whom M. Kasloff resided during his stay. Near this house, almost in the same line, is that of a corporal of the garrison, and a little higher inclining to the north, that of the serjeant, who, next to the governor, are the only persons at all distinguished in this settlement, if indeed it deserves the name of settlement. Opposite to the entrance of the port, on the declivity of the eminence, from which a lake of considerable extent is seen, are the ruins of the hospital mentioned in captain Cooke's voyage8. Below these, and nearer the shore, is a building which serves as a magazine to the garrison, and which is constantly guarded by a centinel. Such was the state in which we found the port of St. Peter and St. Paul. By the proposed augmentation, it will evidently become an interesting place. The entrance was to be closed, or at least flanked by fortifications, which were to serve at the same time as a defence, on this side, to the projected town, which was chiefly to be built upon the site of the old hospital; that is, between the port and the lake. A battery also was to be erected upon the neck of land which separates the bay from the lake, in order to protect the other part of the town. In short, by this plan, the entrance of the bay would be defended by a sufficiently strong battery upon the least elevated point of the left coast; and vessels entering the bay could not escape the cannon, because of the breakers on the right. There is at present upon the point of a rock, a battery of six or eight cannon, lately erected to salute our frigates. I need not add, that the augmentation of the garrison forms a part of the plan, which consists only at present of forty soldiers, or Cossacs. Their mode of living and their dress are similar to the Kamtschadales, except that in time of service they have a sabre, firelock, and cartouch box; in other respects they are not distinguishable from the indigenes, but by their features and idiom. With respect to the Kamtschadale village, which forms a considerable part of the place, and is situated, as I have already said, upon the narrow projection of land which closes in the entrance of the port, it is at present composed of from thirty to forty habitations, including winter and summer ones, called isbas and balagans; and the number of inhabitants, taking in the garrison, does not exceed a hundred, men, women and children. The intention is to increase them to upwards of four hundred. To these details respecting the port of St. Peter and St. Paul, and its destined improvements, I shall add a few remarks upon the nature of the soil, the climate, and the rivers. The banks of the bay of Avatscha are rendered difficult of access by high mountains, of which some are covered with wood, and others have volcanos9. The valleys present a vegetation that astonished me. The grass was nearly of the height of a man; and the rural flowers, such as the wild roses and others that are interspersed with them, diffuse far and wide a most grateful smell. The rains are in general heavy during spring and autumn, and blasts of wind are frequent in autumn and winter. The latter is sometimes rainy; but notwithstanding its length, they assured me that its severity is not very extreme, at least in this southern part of Kamtschatka10. The snow begins to appear on the ground in October, and the thaw does not take place till April or May; but even in July it is seen to fall upon the summit of high mountains, and particularly volcanos. The summer is tolerably fine; the strongest heats scarcely last beyond the solstice. Thunder is seldom heard, and is never productive of injury. Such is the temperature of almost all this part of the peninsula. Two rivers pour their waters into the bay of Avatscha; that from which the bay is named, and the Paratounka. They both abound with fish, and every species of water fowl, but these are so wild, that it is not possible to approach within fifty yards of them. The navigation of these rivers is impracticable after the 26 November, because they are always frozen at this time; and in the depth of winter the bay itself is covered with sheets of ice, which are kept there by the wind blowing from the sea; but they are completely dispelled as soon as it blows from the land. The port of St. Peter and St. Paul is commonly shut up by the ice in the month of January. I should doubtless say something in this place of the manners and customs of the Kamtschadales, of their houses, or rather huts, which they call isbas or balagans; but I must defer this till my arrival at Bolcheretsk, where I expect to have more leisure, and a better opportunity of describing them minutely. We departed from the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul the 7 October. Our company consisted of Messrs. Kasloff, Schmaleff11, Vorokhoff12, Ivaschkin13, myself, and the suite of the governor, amounting to four serjeants, and an equal number of soldiers. The commanding officer of the port, probably out of respect to M. Kasloff, his superior, joined our little troop, and we embarked upon baidars14 in order to cross the bay and reach Paratounka, where we were to be supplied with horses to proceed on our route. In five or six hours we arrived at this ostrog, where the priest15, or rector of the district resides, and whose church also is in this place16. His house served us for a lodging, and we were treated with the utmost hospitality; but we had scarcely entered when the rain fell in such abundance, that we were obliged to stay longer than we wished. I eagerly embraced this short interval to describe some of the objects which I had deferred till my arrival at Bolcheretsk, where, perhaps, I may find others that will not be less interesting. The ostrog of Paratounka is situated by the side of a river of that name, about two leagues from its mouth17. This village is scarcely more populous than that of St. Peter and St. Paul. The small pox has, in this place particularly, made dreadful ravages. The number of balagans and isbas seemed to be very nearly the same as at Petropavlofska18. The Kamtschadales lodge in the first during summer, and retreat to the last in winter. As it is thought desirable that they should be brought gradually to resemble the Russian peasants, they are prohibited, in this southern part of Kamtschatka, from constructing any more yourts, or subterraneous habitations; these are all destroyed at present19, a few vestiges only remain of them, filled up within, and appearing externally like the roofs of our icehouses. The balagans are elevated above the ground upon a number of posts, placed at equal distances, and about twelve or thirteen feet high. This rough sort of colonnade supports in the air a platform made of rafters, joined to one another, and overspread with clay: this platform serves as a floor to the whole building, which consists of a roof in the shape of a cone, covered with a kind of thatch, or dried grass, placed upon long poles fastened together at the top, and bearing upon the rafters. This is at once the first and last story; it forms the whole apartment, or rather chamber: an opening in the roof serves instead of a chimney to let out the smoke, when a fire is lighted to dress their victuals; this cookery is performed in the middle of the room, where they eat and sleep pellmell together without the least disgust or scruple. In these apartments, windows are out of the question; there is merely a door, so low and narrow, that it will scarcely suffice to admit the light. The staircase is worthy of the rest of the building; it consists of a beam, or rather a tree jagged in a slovenly manner, one end of which rests on the ground, and the other is raised to the height of the floor. It is placed at the angle of the door, upon a level, with a kind of open gallery that is erected before it. This tree retains its roundness, and presents on one side something like steps, but they are so incommodious that I was more than once in danger of breaking my neck. In reality, whenever this vile ladder turns under the feet of those who are not accustomed to it, it is impossible to preserve an equilibrium; a fall must be the consequence, more or less dangerous, in proportion to the height. When they wish persons to be informed that there is nobody at home, they merely turn the staircase, with the steps inward. Motives of convenience may have suggested to these people the idea of building such strange dwellings, which their mode of living renders necessary and commodious. Their principal food being dried fish, which is also the nourishment of their dogs, it is necessary, in order to dry their fish, and other provisions, that they should have a place sheltered from the heat of the sun, and at the same time perfectly exposed to the air. Under the collonnades or rustic porticos, which form the lower part of their balagans, they find this convenience; and there they hang their fish, either to the ceiling or to the sides, that it may be out of the reach of the voraciousness of their dogs. The Kamtschadales make use of dogs20 to draw their sledges; the best, that is the most vicious, have no other kennel than what the portico of the balagans affords them, to the posts of which they are tied. Such are the advantages resulting from the singular mode of constructing the balagans, or summer habitations of the Kamtschadales. Those of winter are less singular; and if equally large, would exactly resemble the habitations of the Russian peasants. These have been so often described, that it is universally known how they are constructed and arranged. The isbas are built of wood; that is to say, the walls are formed by placing long trees horizontally upon one another, and filling up the interstices with clay. The roof slants like our thatched houses, and is covered with coarse grass, or rushes, and frequently with planks. The interior part is divided into two rooms, with a stove placed so as to warm them both, and which serves at the same time as a fireplace for their cookery. On two sides of the largest room, wide benches are fixed, and sometimes a sorry couch made of planks, and covered with bears skin. This is the bed of the chief of the family: and the women, who in this country are the slaves of their husbands, and perform all the most laborious offices, think themselves happy to be allowed to sleep in it. Besides these benches and the bed, there is also a table, and a great number of images of different saints, with which the Kamtschadales are as emulous of furnishing their chambers, as the majority of our celebrated connoisseurs are of displaying their magnificent paintings. The windows, as may be supposed, are neither large or high. The panes are made of the skins of salmon, or the bladders of various animals, or the gullets of sea wolves prepared, and sometimes of leaves of talc; but this is rare, and implies a sort of opulence. The fish skins are so scraped and dressed that they become transparent, and admit a feeble light to the room21; but objects cannot be seen through them. The leaves of talc are more clear, and approach nearer to glass; in the mean time they are not sufficiently transparent for persons without to see what is going on within: this is manifestly no inconvenience to such low houses. Every ostrog is presided by a chief, called toyon. This kind of magistrate is chosen from among the natives of the country, by a plurality of voices. The Russians have preserved to them this privilege, but the election must be approved by the jurisdiction of the province. This toyon is merely a peasant, like those whom he judges and governs; he has no mark of distinction, and performs the same labours as his subordinates. His office is chiefly to watch over the police, and inspect the execution of the orders of government. Under him is another Kamtschadale, chosen by the toyon himself, to assist him in the exercise of his functions, or supply his place. This vicetoyon is called yesaoul, a Cossac title adopted by the Kamtschadales since the arrival of the Cossacs in their peninsula, and which signifies second chief of their band or clan. It is necessary to add, that when the conduct of these chiefs is considered as corrupt, or excites the complaints of their inferiors, the Russian officers presiding over them, or the other tribunals established by government, dismiss them immediately from their functions, and nominate others more agreeable to the Kamtschadales, with whom the right of election still remains. The rain continuing, we were unable to proceed on our journey; but my curiosity led me to embrace a short interval that offered in the course of the day, to walk out into the ostrog, and visit its environs. I went first to the church, which I found to be built of wood, and ornamented in the taste of those of the Russian villages. I observed the arms of captain Clerke, painted by Mr. Webber, and the English inscription upon the death of this worthy successor of captain Cook; it pointed out the place of his burial at Saint Peter and Saint Paul's. During the stay of the French frigates in this port, I had been at Paratounka, in a hunting excursion, with viscount de Langle. As we returned, he spoke of many interesting objects he had observed in the church, and which had entirely escaped my attention. They were, as far as I can remember, various offerings deposited there, he said, by some ancient navigators, who had been shipwrecked. It was my full intention to examine them upon my second visit to this ostrog; but whether it escaped my recollection, or that my research was too precipitate, from the short time that I had to make it, certain it is that I did not discover them. The village is surrounded with a wood; I traversed it by proceeding along the river, and perceived at length a vast plain which extends to the north and the east as far as the mountains of Petropavlofska. This chain is terminated at the south and west by another, of which the mountain of Paratounka forms a part, and which is about five or six wersts22 from the ostrog of that name. Upon the banks of the rivers that wind in this plain, there are frequent traces of bears, who are attracted by the fish with which these rivers abound. The inhabitants assured me, that fifteen or eighteen were frequently seen together upon these banks, and that whenever they hunted them, they were sure to bring back one or two, at least, in the space of twentyfour hours. I shall soon have occasion to speak of their chace, and their weapons. We quitted Paratounka and resumed our journey; twenty horses sufficed for ourselves and our baggage, which was not considerable, M. Kasloff having taken the precaution of sending a great part of it by water, as far as the ostrog of Koriaki. The river Avatscha has no tide, and is not navigable farther than this ostrog; and not at all indeed, except by small boats, called batts. The baidirs only serve to cross the bay of Avatscha, and can proceed no farther than the mouth of the river, where their lading is put into these batts, which, from the shallowness and rapidity of the water, are pushed forward with poles. It was in this manner our effects arrived at Koriaki. As to ourselves, having crossed the river Paratounka at a shallow, and winded along several of its branches, we left it for a way that was woody and less level, but which afforded us better travelling; it was almost entirely in valleys, and we had only two mountains to climb. Our horses, notwithstanding their burthens, advanced very briskly. We had no reason to complain of the weather for a single moment; it was so fair, that I began to think the rigour of the climate had been exaggerated; but shortly after, experience too well convinced me of its truth, and in the sequel of my journey, I had every reason to accustom myself to the most piercing frosts, too happy when in the midst of ice and snow, that I had not to contend with the violence of whirlwinds and tempests. We were about six or seven hours in going from Paratounka to Koriaki, which, as far as I could judge, is from thirtyeight to forty wersts. Scarcely arrived, we were obliged to take refuge in the house of the toyon, to shelter ourselves from the rain; he ceded his isba to M. Kasloff, and we spent the night there. The ostrog of Koriaki is situated in the midst of a coppice wood, and upon the border of the river Avatscha, which becomes very narrow in this part. Five or six isbas, and twice, or at most three times the number of balagans, make up this village, which is similar to that of Paratounka, except that it is less, and has no parish church. I observed in general that ostrogs of so little consideration were not provided with a church. The next day we mounted our horses and took the way to Natchikin, another ostrog in the Bolcheretsk route. We were to stop a few days in the neighbourhood for the sake of the baths, which M. Kasloff had constructed at his own expence, for the benefit and pleasure of the inhabitants, upon the hots springs that are found there, and which I shall presently describe. The way from Koriaki to Natchikin is tolerably commodious, and we crossed without difficulty all the little streams that fall from the mountains, at the foot of which we passed. About threefourths of the way we met the Bolchaareka23; from the site of its greatest breadth, which in this place is about ten or twelve yards, it appears to wind to a considerable extent to the north east; we journeyed on its bank for some time, till we came to a little mountain, which we were obliged to pass over in order to reach the village. A heavy rain which came on as we left Koriaki, ceased a few minutes after; but the wind having changed to the northwest, the heavens became obscured, and we had abundance of snow; we were about twothirds of our way, and it continued till our arrival. I remarked that the snow already covered the mountains, even such as were lowest, upon which it described an equal line at a certain elevation, but that below them no traces of it were yet perceptible. We forded the Bolchaareka, and found on the other side the ostrog of Natchikin, where I counted six or seven isbas and twenty balagans, similar to what I had seen before. We made no stay there, M. Kasloff thinking it proper to hasten immediately to the baths, to which I was inclined as much from curiosity as from necessity. The snow had penetrated through my clothes, and in crossing the river, which was deep, I had made my legs and feet wet. I longed therefore to be able to change my dress, but when we came to the baths our baggage was not arrived. We proposed drying ourselves by walking about the environs, and observing the interesting objects which I expected to find there. I was charmed with every thing I saw, but the dampness of the place, added to that of our clothes, gave us such a chilliness that we quickly put an end to our walk. Upon our return we had a new source of regret and impatience. Unable either to dry ourselves or change our dress, our equipage not being arrived, to complete our misfortune, the place to which we had retired was the dampest we could have chosen, and though it seemed sufficiently sheltered, the wind penetrated on every side. M. Kasloff had recourse to the bath, which quickly restored him; but not daring to follow his example, I was obliged to wait the arrival of our baggage. The damp had penetrated to such a degree that I shivered during the whole night. The next day I made a trial of these baths, and can say that none ever afforded me so much pleasure or so much benefit. But before I proceed, I must describe the source of these hot waters, and the building constructed for bathing. They are two wersts to the north of the ostrog, and about a hundred yards from the bank of the Bolchaareka, which it is necessary to cross a second time in order to arrive at the baths, on account of the elbow which the river describes below the village. A thick and continual vapour ascends from these waters, which fall in a rapid cascade from a rather steep declivity, three hundred yards from the place where the baths are erected. In their fall, which is in a direction east and west, they form a small stream of a foot and half deep, and six or seven feet wide. At a little distance from the Bolchaareka, this stream is met by another, with which it pours itself into this river. At their conflux, which is about eight or nine hundred yards from the source, the water is so hot that it is not possible to keep the hand in it for half a minute. M. Kasloff has been careful to erect his building on the most convenient spot, and where the temperature of the water is most moderate. It is constructed of wood, in the middle of a stream, and is in the proportion of sixteen feet long by eight wide. It is divided into two apartments, each of six or seven feet square, and as many high: the one which is nearest to the side of the spring, and under which the water is consequently warmer, is appropriated for bathing; the other serves for a dressingroom; and for this purpose there are wide benches above the level of the water; in the middle also a certain space is left to wash if we be disposed. There is one circumstance that renders these baths very agreeable, the warmth of the water communicates itself sufficiently to the dressingroom to prevent us from catching cold; and it penetrates the body to such a degree, as to be felt even for the space of an hour or two after we have left the bath. We lodged near these baths in a kind of barns, covered with thatch, and whose timber work consisted of the trunks and branches of trees. We occupied two, which had been built on purpose for us, and in so short a time, that I knew not how to credit the report; but I had soon the conviction of my own eyes. That which was to the south of the stream, having been found too small and too damp, M. Kasloff ordered another of six or eight yards extent, to be built on the opposite side, where the soil was less swampy. It was the business of a day; in the evening it was finished, though an additional staircase had been cut out to form a communication between the barn and the bathing house, whose door was to the north. Our habitations being insupportable during the night, on account of the cold, M. Kasloff resolved to quit them, four days after our arrival. We returned to the village to shelter ourselves with the toyon; but the attraction of the baths led us back every day, oftener twice than once, and we scarcely ever came away without bathing. The various constructions which M. Kasloff ordered for the greater convenience of his establishment, detained us two days longer. Animated by a love of virtue and humanity, he enjoyed the pleasure of having procured these salutary and pleasant baths for his poor Kamtschadales. The uninformed state of their minds, or perhaps their indolence, would, without his succour, have deprived them of this benefit, notwithstanding their extreme confidence in these hot springs for the cure of a variety of diseases24. This made M. Kasloff desirous of ascertaining the properties of these waters; we agreed to analyse them, by means of a process which had been given him for this purpose. But before I speak of the result of our experiments, it is necessary to transcribe the process, in order the better to trace the mode we adopted. \"Water in general may contain, \"1. Fixed air; in that case it has a sharp and sourish taste, like lemonade, without sugar. \"2. Iron or copper; and then it has an astringent and disagreeable taste, like ink. \"3. Sulphur, or sulphurous vapours; and then it has a very nauseous taste, like a stale and rotten egg. \"4. Vitriolic, or marine, or alkaline salt. \"5. Earth,\" Fixed Air. \"To ascertain the fixed air, the taste is partly sufficient; but pour into the water some tincture of turnsol, and the water will become more or less red, in proportion to the quantity of fixed air it contains.\" Iron. \"The iron may be known by means of the galnut and phlogisticated alkali; the galnut put into feruginous water, will change its colour to purple, or violet, or black; and the phlogisticated alkali will produce immediately Prussian blue.\" Copper. \"Copper may be ascertained by means of the phlogisticated alkali or volatile alkali; the first turns the water to a brown red, and the second to a blue. The last mode is the surest, because the volatile alkali precipitates copper only, and not iron.\" Sulphur. \"Sulphur and sulphurous vapours may be known by pouring, 1. nitrous acid into the water; if a yellowish or whitish sediment be formed by it, there is sulphur, and at the same time a sulphurous odour will be exhaled and evaporate. 2. By pouring some drops of a solution of corrosive sublimate; if it occasion a white sediment, the water contains only vapours of liver of sulphur; and if the sediment be black, the water contains sulphur only.\" Vitriolic Salt. \"Water may contain vitriolic salts; that is salts resulting from the combination of the vitriolic acid with calcareous earth, iron, copper, or with an alkali. The vitriolic acid may be ascertained by pouring some drops of a solution of heavy earth; for then a sandy sediment will be formed, which will settle slowly at the bottom of the vessel.\" Marine Salt. \"Water may contain marine salt, which may be ascertained by pouring into it some drops of a solution of silver; a white sediment will immediately be formed of the consistency of curdled milk, which will at last turn to a dark violet colour.\" Fixed Alkali. \"Water may contain fixed alkali, which may be ascertained by pouring into it some drops of a solution of corrosive sublimate; when a reddish sediment will be formed.\" Calcareous Earth. \"Water may contain calcareous earth and magnesia. Some drops of acid of sugar poured into the water, will precipitate the calcareous earth in whitish clouds, which will at length subside and afford a white sediment. A few drops of a solution of corrosive sublimate, will produce a reddish sediment, but very gradually, if the water contain magnesia. \"Note. To make these experiments with readiness and certainty, the water to be analysed should be reduced one half by boiling it, except in the case of the fixed air, which would evaporate in the boiling.\" Having thoroughly studied the process, we began our experiments. The three first producing no effect, we concluded that the water contained neither fixed air, iron, nor copper; but upon the mixture of the nitrous acid, mentioned for the fourth experiment, we perceived a light substance settle upon the surface, of a whitish colour, and extending but a little way, which led us to believe that the quantity of sulphur, or of sulphurous vapours, must be infinitely small. The fifth experiment proved that the water contained vitriolic salts, or at least vitriolic acid mixed with calcareous earth. We ascertained the existence of this acid, by pouring some drops of a solution of heavy earth into the water, which became white and nebulous, and the sediment that slowly settled at the bottom of the vessel appeared whitish and in very fine grains. We had no solution of silver for the sixth experiment, in order to ascertain whether the water contained marine salt. The seventh proved that it had no fixed alkali. By the eighth experiment, we found that the water contained a great quantity of calcareous earth, but no magnesia. Having poured some drops of acid of sugar, we observed the calcareous earth precipitate to the bottom of the vessel in clouds and a powder of a whitish colour; we mixed afterwards some solution of corrosive sublimate to find the magnesia; but the sediment, instead of becoming red, preserved the same colour as before; a proof that the water contained no magnesia. We made use of this water for tea and for our common drink. It was not till after three or four days that we found it contained some saline particles. M. Kasloff boiled also some of the water taken at the spring, till it became totally evaporated; the whitish and very salt earth or powder which remained at the bottom of the vessel, as well as the effect it produced on us, proved that this water contained nitrous salts. We remarked also that the stones taken out of this stream were covered with a calcareous substance tolerably thick, and of an undulated appearance, which, when mixed with the vitriolic and nitrous acid, produced symptoms of effervescence. We examined others taken from what appeared to be the fountain head of the waters, and where they have the greater degree of heat; we found them covered with a stratum of a kind of metal, if I may so call a hard and compact envelopement of the colour of refined copper, but the quality of which we could not ascertain; we found also some of this metal, which appeared like the heads of pins; but no acid could dissolve it. Upon breaking these stones, we discovered the inside to be very soft and mixed with gravel, with which I had observed these streams to abound. I ought to add here, that we discovered upon the border of the stream, and in a little moving swamp that was near it, a gum, or singular fucus25, that was glutinous, but did not adhere to the ground. Such are the observations which I made upon these hot waters, by assisting M. Kasloff in his experiments and enquiries. I dare not flatter myself with having given the result of our operations in a satisfactory manner; forgetfulness, or want of information upon the subject, may have led me into errors; I can only say that I have exerted all my attention and care to be accurate; but acknowledge at the same time, that, if there be defects, they are ascribable to me. During our stay at these baths and at the ostrog of Natchikin, our horses had brought, at different times, the effects which we had left at Koriaki, and we began to make preparations for our departure. In this interval I had an opportunity of seeing a sable taken alive; the method was very singular, and may give some idea of the manner of hunting these animals. At some distance from the baths, M. Kasloff remarked a numerous flight of ravens, who all hovered over the same spot, skimming continually along the ground. The regular direction of their flight led us to suspect that some prey attracted them. These birds were in reality pursuing a sable. We perceived it upon a birchtree, surrounded by another flight of ravens, and we had immediately a similar desire of taking it. The quickest and surest way would doubtless have been to have shot it; but our guns were at the village, and it was impossible to borrow one of the persons who accompanied us, or indeed in the whole neighbourhood. A Kamtschadale happily drew us from our embarassment, by undertaking to catch the sable. He adopted the following method. He asked us for a cord; we had none to give him but that which fastened our horses. While he was making a running knot, some dogs, trained to this chace, had surrounded the tree: the animal, intent upon watching them, either from fear, or natural stupidity, did not stir; and contented himself with stretching out his neck, when the cord was presented to him. His head was twice in the noose, but the knot slipped. At length, the sable having thrown himself upon the ground, the dogs flew to seize him; but he presently freed himself, and with his claws and teeth laid hold of the nose of one of the dogs, who had no reason to be pleased with his reception. As we were desirous of taking the animal alive, we kept back the dogs; the sable quitted immediately his hold, and ran up a tree, where, for the third time, the noose, which had been tied anew, was presented to him; it was not till the fourth attempt that the Kamtschadale succeeded26. I could not have imagined that an animal, who has so much the appearance of cunning would have permitted himself to be caught in so stupid a manner, and would himself have placed his head in the snare that was held up to him. This easy mode of catching sables, is a considerable resource to the Kamtschadales, who are obliged to pay their tribute in skins of these animals, as I shall explain hereafter27. Two phenomena in the heavens were observed at the northwest, during the nights of the 13 and 14. From the description that was given of them, we judged that they were auror boreales, and we lamented that we were not informed time enough to see them. The weather had been tolerably fair during our stay at the baths; but the western part of the sky had been almost constantly charged with very thick clouds. The wind varied from west to northwest, and gave us now and then a shower of snow, which did not yet acquire consistency, notwithstanding the frosts which we experienced every night. Our departure was fixed for the 17 October, and the 16 was spent in the hurry and bustle which the last preparations generally occasion. The rest of our route, as far as Bolcheretsk, was to be upon the Bolchaareka. Ten small boats, which properly speaking, appeared to be merely trees scooped out in the shape of canoes, two and two lashed together, served as five floats for the conveyance of ourselves and part of our effects. We were obliged to leave the greater part at Natchikin, on account of the impossibility of loading these floats with the whole, and there were no means of increasing them. We had already collected all the canoes that were in the village, and even some of our ten had been brought from the ostrog of Apatchin, to which we were going. The 17, at break of day, we embarked upon these floats. Four Kamtschadales, by means of long poles, conducted our rafts. But they were frequently obliged to place themselves in the water, in order to haul them along; the depth of the river in some places being no more than one or two feet, and in others less than six inches. Presently one of our floats received an injury; it was precisely that which was freighted with our baggage, and we were obliged to unlade every thing upon the bank, in order to refit it. We waited not, but preferred leaving it behind, in order to proceed on our route. At noon another accident, much more deplorable for men whose appetites began to be clamorous, occasioned us a further delay. The float in which our cookery was embarked, sunk all at once before our eyes. It will be supposed we did not see the loss which threatened us, with indifference; we were eager to save the wreck of our provisions; and for fear of a greater misfortune, we wisely resolved to dine before we proceeded any farther. Our dinner tended gradually to dispel our fears, and gave us courage to discharge the water which overloaded our boats, and to resume our voyage. We had not advanced a werst, before we met two boats coming to our assistance from Apatchin. We sent them to the succour of the damaged float, and to supply the place of the boats which were unfit for service. As we continued to advance at the head of our embarkations, we at last entirely lost sight of them; but we met with nothing disastrous till the evening. I observed that the Bolchaareka, in the windings which it continually made, ran nearly in the direction of eastnortheast and westsouthwest. Its current is very rapid; it appeared to me to flow at the rate of five knots an hour; in the meantime the stones and the shoals which we met with every instant, obstructed our passage to such a degree, as to render the last hour of our conductors truly painful. They avoided them with astonishing address, but as we approached nearer the mouth of the river, I observed with pleasure that it became wider and more navigable. I was equally surprised to see it divide into I know not how many branches, which united again, after having watered a variety of little islands, of which some are covered with wood. The trees are every where very small and very bushy; we met with a considerable number growing here and there in the very river itself, which increase still farther the difficulty of the navigation, and prove the carelessness, I may say the sloth, of these people. It never occurs to them to root out these trees, and thus open a more easy passage. Different species of waterfowl, such as ducks, plovers, golands, divers, and others, divert themselves in this river, the surface of which is sometimes covered by them; but it is difficult to approach near enough to shoot them. Game does not appear to be so common. But for the tracks of the bears, and the halfdevoured fish, which continually presented themselves to our view, I should have believed that they had imposed upon me, or at least that they had exaggerated, in telling me of the multitude of these animals with which the country abounds; we could perceive none; but we saw a great number of black eagles, and others that had white wings; magpies, ravens, some partridges, and an ermine walking by the side of the river. Upon the approach of night, M. Kasloff rightly judged that it would be more prudent to stop, than to continue our route, with the apprehension of encountering obstacles similar to what had already impeded our navigation. How were we to surmount them? we were unacquainted with the river; and in the obscurity of the night, the least accident might prove fatal to us. These considerations determined us to leave our boats, and to pass the night on the righthand bank of the river, at the entrance of a wood, and near the place where captain King and his party halted28. A good fire warmed and dried our whole company. M. Kasloff had taken the precaution to place in his float the accoutrements of a tent; and while we were pitching it, which was done in a moment, we had the satisfaction to see two of our floats arrive, which had not been able to keep up with us. The pleasure which this reunion afforded us, the fatigue of the day, the convenience of the tent, and our beds, which we had fortunately brought with us, all contributed to make us pass a most comfortable night. The next day we fitted ourselves out early and without difficulty. We arrived in four hours at Apatchin, but our floats could not come up as far as the village, on account of the shallowness of the water. We landed about four hundred yards from the ostrog, and atchieved this short distance on foot. This village did not appear to me so considerable as the preceding ones, that is, it contained perhaps three or four habitations less. It is situated in a small plain, watered by a branch of the Bolchaareka; and on the side opposite to the ostrog is an extent of wood, which I conceived might be an island formed by the different branches of this river. I learned by the way, that the ostrog of Apatchin, as well as that of Natchikin, had not been always where they are at present. It is within a few years only that the inhabitants, attracted without doubt by the situation, or the hope of better and more commodious fishing, removed their houses to this place. The distance of the new ostrog from the former one is, as I was told, about four or five wersts. Apatchin afforded nothing interesting. I left it to join our floats, which had passed the shallows, and were waiting for us three wersts from the ostrog, at the spot where the branch of Bolchaareka, after having made a circuit round the village, returns again to its channel. The farther we advanced, the deeper and more rapid we found it; so that nothing impeded our course the whole way to Bolcheretsk, where we arrived at seven o'clock in the evening, accompanied by one only of our floats, the rest not having kept pace with us. We were no sooner landed, than the governor conducted me to his house, where he had the civility to give me a lodging, which I occupied during the whole time of my stay at Bolcheretsk. He not only procured me all the conveniences and pleasures that were in his power, but furnished me with all the information which might contribute to my advantage, and which his office permitted him to give. His politeness often anticipated my desires and my questions; and he contrived to stimulate my curiosity, by presenting to it every thing which he thought was calculated to interest me. It was with this view he proposed, almost immediately upon our arrival, my going with him to view the galliot from Okotsk, that had been unfortunately just shipwrecked at a little distance from Bolcheretsk. We had learned something of this melancholy news in our journey. It was said that the bad weather, which the galliot had encountered at its arrival, obliged it to come to anchor at the distance of a league from the coast; but finding that it still drove, the pilot saw no other means of saving the cargo than by running the vessel aground upon the coast; accordingly he cut the cables, and the ship was dashed to pieces. Upon the first intelligence of this event, the inhabitants of Bolcheretsk flocked together to hasten to the succour of the vessel, and to save at least the provisions with which it was freighted. Immediately upon our arrival, M. Kasloff had given all the orders which appeared to him to be necessary; but not satisfied with this, he would go himself to see them carried into execution. He invited me to accompany him, which I accepted with cheerfulness, promising myself much pleasure from having an opportunity of viewing the mouth of the Bolchaareka, and the harbour which is formed by it. We set off at eleven o'clock in the morning, upon two floats, of which one, that which carried us, was formed of three canoes. Our conductors made use of oars and sometimes of their poles, which frequently in difficult and shallow passages, enabled them to resist the impetuosity of the current, by keeping back the float, which would otherwise have been carried along with rapidity and infallibly overturned. The Bistraa, another very rapid river, and larger than the Bolchaareka, joins it to the west, about the distance of half a werst from Bolcheretsk. It loses its name at the conflux, and takes that of the Bolchaareka, which is rendered very considerable by this addition, and empties itself into the sea at the distance of thirty wersts. We landed at seven o'clock in the evening at a little hamlet called Tchekafki. Two isbas, two balagans, and a yourt almost in ruins, were all the habitations I could perceive. There was also a wretched warehouse, made of wood, to which they give the name of magazine, because it belongs to the crown, and first receives the supplies with which the galliots from Okotsk29 are freighted. The hamlet was built as a guard to this magazine. We passed the night in one of the isbas, resolving to repair early in the morning to the wreck. At break of day we embarked upon our floats. It was low water; we coasted along a dry and very extensive sand bank, at the left of the Bolchaareka, as we advanced towards the sea, and which leaves to the north a passage of only eight or ten fathoms wide, and two and a half deep. The wind, which blew fresh from the northwest, suddenly agitated the river, and we dared not risk ourselves in the channel. Our boats also were so small, that a single wave half filled them; two men were constantly employed in throwing out the water, and were scarcely able to effect it. We advanced therefore as far as we could along this bank. At length we perceived the mast of the galliot above a neck of low land that extended to the south. It appeared to be about two wersts from us, south of the entrance of the Bolchaareka. At the point of land just mentioned, we discovered the light house, and the cot of the persons appointed to guard the wreck: unfortunately we could only see all this at a distance. The direction of the river, from the place where it empties itself into the sea, appeared to me to be northwest, and its opening to be half a werst wide. The lighthouse is on the left coast, and on the right is the continuation of the low land, which the sea overflows in tempestuous weather, and which extends almost as far as the hamlet of Tchekafki. The distance of the hamlet from the mouth of the river is from six to eight wersts. The nearer we approach the entrance, the more rapid is the current. It was not possible to pursue our voyage; the wind became stronger, and the waves increased every moment. It would have been the height of imprudence to quit the sand bank, and cross, in such foul weather and such feeble boats, two wersts of deep water, which is the width of the bay formed by the mouth of the river. The governor, who had already met with some proofs of my little knowledge of navigation, was very anxious however to consult me upon this occasion. My advice was to tack about, and return to the hamlet where we had slept; which was executed immediately. We had great reason to be pleased with our prudence; scarcely were we arrived at Tchekafki when the weather became terrible. I consoled myself with the idea, that I had at least obtained my end, which was to see the entrance of the Bolchaareka. I can assert with confidence, that the access to it is very dangerous, and impracticable to ships of a hundred and fifty tons burthen. The Russian vessels are too frequently shipwrecked, not to open the eyes both of navigators who may be tempted to visit this coast, and of the nations who may think of sending them. The port, besides, affords no shelter. The low lands with which it is surrounded, are no protection against the winds which blow from every quarter. The banks also which the current of the river forms, are very variable, and of course it is almost impossible to know with certainty the channel, which must necessarily, from time to time, change it direction as well as its depth. We passed the rest of the day at Tchekafki, being unable to proceed to the shipwrecked vessel, or to return to Bolcheretsk. The sky, instead of clearing up, became covered on all sides with still blacker and thicker clouds. Soon after our arrival, a dreadful tempest arose, and the Bolchaareka became agitated to an extreme violence, even so high up as our hamlet. Its billows surprised me, because of the little extent and depth of the river in this place. The point northeast of its mouth, and the low land, which this gale of wind extended, formed but one breaker, over which the waves rolled with a horrible noise. The gale was not likely to abate, but I was on shore, and thought myself able to brave it. I took it into my head therefore, to go a hunting in the environs of the hamlet. I had scarcely advanced a few steps, when the wind seized me, and I felt myself stagger; my courage however did not fail me, and I persevered; but coming to a stream, which it was necessary to cross in a boat, I ran the most imminent risk, and returned immediately, well punished for my petty presumption. These dreadful hurricanes being very common at this season, it is not be wondered at that shipwrecks are so frequent on these coasts: the vessels are so small as to have but one mast; and, what is still worse, the sailors who manage them, if report may be credited, have too little skill to be confided in. The next day we resumed our journey, and arrived at Bolcheretsk in the dusk of the evening. As I forsee that my stay here will probably be long, from the necessity of waiting till sledges can be used, I shall proceed with my descriptions, and the recital of what I have seen myself, or learned from my conversations with the Russians and Kamtschadales. I shall begin with the town, or fort of Bolcheretsk, for so it is called, in Russia (ostrog, or krepost). It is situated on the border of the Bolchaareka, in a small island formed by different branches of this river, which divide the town into three parts more or less inhabited. The most distant division, and which is farthest to the east, is a kind of suburb called Paranchine; it contains ten or twelve isbas. Southeast of Paranchine, is the middle division, where there is also a number isbas, and among others, a row of wooden huts that serve for shops. Opposite to these is the guardhouse, which is also the chancery, or court of justice30; this house is larger than the rest, and is always guarded by a centinel. A second branch of the Bolchaareka again separates, by a very narrow stream, this group of habitations, built without order, and scattered here and there, from another at the northwest, nearer the river. The river in this part flows in the direction of southeast and northwest, and passes within fifty yards of the governor's house. This house is easily distinguished from the rest; it is higher, larger, and is built like the wooden houses of St. Petersburg. Two hundred yards northeast of this house, is the church; the construction of which is simple, and like that of the village churches in Russia. By the side of it is an erection of timber work, twenty feet high, covered only with a roof, under which three bells are suspended. Northwest of the governor's house, and separated from it by a meadow or marsh about three hundred yards wide, is another group of dwellings, consisting of twentyfive or thirty isbas, and some balagans. There are in general very few of these latter habitations at Bolcheretsk; the whole do not exceed ten; the isbas and wooden houses, without including the eight shops, the chancery, and the governor's house, amount to fifty or sixty. From this minute description of the fort of Bolcheretsk, it must appear strange that it retains so inapplicable a name; for I can affirm, that no traces are to be found of fortifications, nor does it appear that there has ever been an intention of erecting any. The state and situation, both of the town and its port, induce me to believe, that government have felt the innumerable dangers and obstacles they would have to surmount, if they were to attempt to render it more flourishing, and make it the general dept of commerce to the peninsula. Their views, as I have already observed, seem rather turned to the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, which for its proximity, safety, and easy access, merits the preference. There is a degree of civilization at Bolcheretsk, which I did not perceive at Petropavlofska. This sensible approach to European manners, occasions a striking differrence between the two places. I shall endeavour to point out and account for this as I proceed in my observations upon the inhabitants of these ostrogs; for my principal object should be, to give details of their employments, their customs, their tastes, their diversions, their food, their understandings, their character, their constitutions, and lastly, the principles of government to which they are subjected. The population of Bolcheretsk, including men, women and children, amounts to between two and three hundred. Among these inhabitants, reckoning the petty officers, there are sixty or seventy Cossacs, or soldiers, who are employed in all labours that relate to the service of government31. Each in his turn mounts guard; they clear the ways; repair the bridges; unlade the provisions sent from Okotsk, and convey them from the mouth of the Bolchaareka to Bolcheretsk. The rest of the inhabitants are composed of merchants and sailors. These people, Russians and Cossacs, together with a mixed breed found among them, carry on a clandestine commerce, sometimes in one article, and sometimes in another; it varies as often as they see any reason for changing it; but it is never with a view of enriching themselves by honest means. Their industry is a continual knavishness; it is solely employed in cheating the poor Kamtschadales, whose credulity and insuperable propensity to drunkenness, leave them entirely at the mercy of these dangerous plunderers. Like our mountebanks, and other knaves of this kind, they go from village to village to inveigle the too silly natives: they propose to sell them brandy, which they artfully present to them to taste. It is almost impossible for a Kamtschadale, male or female, to refuse this offer. The first essay is followed by many others; presently their heads become affected, they are intoxicated, and the craft of the tempters succeed. No sooner are they arrived to a slate of inebriety, than these pilferers know how to obtain from them the barter of their most valuable effects, that is, their whole stock of furs, frequently the fruit of the labour of a whole season, which was to enable them to pay their tribute to the crown, and procure perhaps subsistance for a whole family. But no consideration can stop a Kamtschadale drunkard; every thing is forgotten, every thing is sacrificed to the gratification of his appetite, and the momentary pleasure of swallowing a few glasses of brandy32, reduces him to the utmost wretchedness. Nor is it possible for the most painful experience to put them on their guard against their own weakness, or the cunning perfidy of these traders, who in their turn drink, in like manner, all the profits of their knavery. I shall terminate the article of commerce by adding, that the persons who deal most in wholesale, are merely agents of the merchants of Totma, Vologda, Grand Ustiug, and different towns of Siberia, or the factors of other opulent traders, who extend even to this distant country their commercial speculations. All the wares and provisions, which necessity obliges them to purchase from the magazines, are sold excessively dear, and at about ten times the current price at Moscow. A vedro33 of French brandy costs eighty roubles34. The merchants are allowed to traffic in this article; but the brandy, distilled from corn, which is brought from Okotsk, and that produced by the country, which is distilled from the slatkaatrava, or sweet herb, are sold, upon government account, at forty one roubles ninetysix kopecks35 the vedro. They can be sold only in the kabacs, or public houses, opened for that purpose. At Okotsk, the price of brandy distilled from corn is no more than eighteen roubles the vedro; so that the expence of freight is charged at twentythree roubles ninetysix kopecks, which appears exorbitant, and enables us to form some judgment of the accruing profit. The rest of the merchandize consists of nankins and other China stuffs, together with various commodities of Russian and foreign manufacture, as ribands, handkerchiefs, stockings, caps, shoes, boots, and other articles of European dress, which may be regarded as luxuries, compared with the extreme simplicity of apparel of the Kamtschadales. Among the provision imported, there are sugar, tea, a small quantity of coffee, some wine, but very little, biscuits, confections, or dried fruits, as prunes, raisins, c. and lastly, candles, both wax and tallow, powder, shot, c. The scarcity of all these articles in so distant a country, and the need, whether natural or artificial, which there is for them, enable the merchants to sell them at whatever exorbitant price their voracity may affix. In common, they are disposed of almost immediately upon their arrival. The merchants keep shops, each of them occupying one of the huts opposite the guardhouse; these shops are open every day, except feast days. The inhabitants of Bolcheretsk differ not from the Kamtschadales in their mode of living; they are less satisfied, however, with balagans, and their houses are a little cleaner. Their clothing is the same. The outer garment, which is called parque, is like a waggoner's frock, and is made of the skins of deer, or other animals, tanned on one side. They wear under this long breeches of similar leather, and next the skin a very short and tight shirt, either of nankin or cotton stuff; the women's are of silk, which is a luxury among them. Both sexes wear boots; in summer, of goats or dogs skins tanned; and in winter, of the skins of sea wolves, or the legs of rein deer36. The men constantly wear fur caps; in the mild season they put on longer shirts of nankin, or of skin without hair; they are made like the parque, and answer the same purpose, that is, to be worn over their other garments. Their gala dress, is a parque trimmed with otter skins and velvet, or other stuffs and furs equally dear. The women are clothed like the Russian women, whose mode of dress is too well known to need a description; I shall therefore only observe, that the excessive scarcity of every species of stuff at Kamtschatka, renders the toilet of the women an object of very considerable expence: they sometimes adopt the dress of the men. The principal food of these people consists, as I have already observed, in dried fish. The fish are procured by the men, while the women are employed in domestic occupations, or in gathering fruits and other vegetables, which, next to the dried fish, are the favourite provisions of the Kamtschadales and Russians of this country. When the women go out to make these harvests for winter consumption, it is high holyday with them, and the anniversary is celebrated by a riotous and intemperate joy, that frequently gives rise to the most extravagant and indecent scenes. They disperse in crowds through the country, singing and giving themselves up to all the absurdities which their imagination suggests; no consideration of fear or modesty restrains them. I cannot better describe their licentious frenzy than by comparing it with the bacchanals of the Pagans. Ill betide the man whom chance conducts and delivers into their hands! however resolute or however active he may be, it is impossible to evade the fate that awaits him; and it is seldom that he escapes, without receiving a severe flagellation. Their provisions are prepared nearly in the following manner; it will appear, from the recital, that they cannot be accused of much delicacy. They are particularly careful to waste no part of the fish. As soon as it is caught they tear out the gills, which they immediately suck with extreme gratification. By another refinement of sensuality or gluttony, they cut off also at the same time some slices of the fish, which they devour with equal avidity, covered as they are with clots of blood. The fish is then gutted, and the entrails reserved for their dogs. The rest is prepared and dried; when they eat it either boiled, roasted, or broiled, but most commonly raw. The food which the epicures esteem most, and which appeared to me to be singularly disgusting, is a species of salmon, called tchaouitcha. As soon as it is caught, they bury it in a hole; and in this kind of larder they leave it till it has had time to sour, or, properly speaking, become perfectly putrified. It is only in this state of corruption that it attains the flavour most pleasing to the delicate palates of these people. In my opinion the infectious odour that exhales from this fish, would suffice to repulse the most hungry being; and yet a Kamtschadale feeds voluptuously upon this rotten flesh. How fortunate does he consider himself when the head falls to his lot! this is deemed the most delicious morsel, and is commonly distributed into many parts. I frequently wished to overcome my aversion, and taste this so highly valued food; but my resolution was unequal to it; and I was not only unable to taste it, but even to bring it near my mouth; every time I attempted, the fetid exhalation which it emitted gave me a nausea, and disgusted me insuperably. The most common fish in Kamtschatka are trouts, and salmon of different species; sea wolves are also eaten; the fat of this fish is very wholesome, and serves them beside for lamp oil. Among the vegetables which are made use of by the Kamtschadales, the principal are sarana root, wild garlic, slatkaatrava, or sweet herb, and other plants and fruits nearly similar to what are found in Russia. The sarana is known to botanists37. Its shape, its size, and its colour have been described at large in the third voyage of captain Cook. Its farinaceous root serves instead of bread38. It is dried before it is used; but it is wholesome and nourishing in whatever mode it may be prepared. From the wild garlic39 they make a harsh and fermented beverage, which has a very unpleasant taste; it is also used in various sauces; the Kamtschadales are very fond of it. The slatkaatrava, or sweet herb, is pleasant enough when it is fresh. This plant40 has also been minutely described by the English. It is highly esteemed by the natives, particularly the spirit distilled from it. Soon after it is gathered, they slit it in two, and scrape out the pith with a muscleshell: they then dry it for winter, and when they use it in their ragouts, it is previously boiled. Brandy is also distilled from this sweet herb, which, as I observed before, is sold on account of government: for this purpose the plant is purchased of the Kamtschadales41. There are three sorts of inhabitants, the natives or Kamtschadales, the Russians and Cossacs, and the descendants from intermarriages. The indigenes, that is, those whose blood is unmixed, are few in number; the small pox has carried off three fourths of them, and the few that are left are dispersed through the different ostrogs of the peninsula; in Bolcheretsk it would be difficult to find more than one or two. The true Kamtschadales are in general below the common height; their shape is round and squat, their eyes small and sunk, their cheeks prominent, their nose flat, their hair black, they have scarcely any beard, and their complexion is a little tawny. The complexion and features of the women are very nearly the same; from this representation, it will be supposed they are not very seducing objects. The character of the Kamtschadales is mild and hospitable; they are neither knaves, nor robbers; they have indeed so little penetration, that nothing is more easy than to deceive them, as we have seen in the advantage that is taken of their propensity to intoxication. They live together in the utmost harmony, and the more so, it would seem, on account of the smallness of their number. This unanimity disposes them to assist one another in their labours, which is no small proof of their zeal to oblige, if we consider the natural and extreme slothfulness of their disposition. An active life would be insupportable to them; and the greatest happiness, in their estimation, next to that of getting drunk, is to have nothing to do, and to live for ever in tranquil indolence. This is carried so far with these people, as frequently to make them neglect the means of providing the indispensable necessaries of life; and whole families are often reduced to all the severities of famine, because they would not take the pains of providing in summer a reserve of fish, without which they are unable to live. If they neglect in this manner the preservation of their existence, it is not to be supposed that they are more attentive to the article of cleanliness; it displays itself neither in their persons, nor their habitations; and they may justly be reproached for being addicted to the contrary extreme. Notwithstanding this carelessness, and other natural defects, it must be regretted that their number is not more considerable; as, from what I have seen, and what has been confirmed to me by different persons, if we would be sure of finding sentiments of honour and humanity in this country, it is necessary to seek for them among the true Kamtschadales; they have not yet bartered their rude virtues for the polished vices of the Europeans sent to civilize them. It was at Bolcheretsk that I began to perceive the effects of their influence. I saw the trace of European manners, less in the mixture of blood, in the conformation of features, and the idiom of the inhabitants, than in their inclinations and mode of life, which did not always discover any very considerable fund of virtue. This striking difference between the inhabitants and the indigenes, springs, in my opinion, from the difficulties which lie in the road to civilization, and I will assign my reasons. Bolcheretsk, not long ago, was the chief place of Kamtschatka, particularly as the governors had thought proper to establish their residence there. The chiefs and their suites introduced European knowledge and manners: these, it is known, generally become adulterated in transmission, according to the distance from the source. Meanwhile it is to be presumed that the Russian government was careful, as far as it was possible, to confide its authority and the execution of its orders, only to officers of acknowledged merit, if I may judge from those who are at present employed; and it is therefore to be supposed that these officers, in the places of their residence, were so many examples of the virtues, the acquirements, and all the estimable qualities of civilized nations. But unfortunately the lessons which they gave, were not always so efficacious as might have been expected; either because being only sketches, they were not sufficiently felt, or rather, not being imbibed in all their purity, they made but momentary or perhaps vicious impressions on the mind. These reformers found not the same zeal either in the Cossacs who composed the garrison, or in the merchants and other Russian emigrants who settled in the peninsula. The disposition to licenciousness, and the desire of gain, which the first conquerors of a country almost always bring with them, and the continual development of these qualities, by the facility with which the natives may be duped, contributed to check the progress of reform. The fatal infection was still more diffusely spread by intermarriages, while the seed of the social virtues, which had been attempted to be sown, scarcely found a reception. The consequence has been, that the natives, or true Kamtschadales, have preserved almost universally their ignorant simplicity and uncultivated manners; and that a part of the rest of the inhabitants, Russians and mixed breed, who have settled themselves in the ostrogs where the governors reside, still retain indeed a faint shade of European manners, but not of such as are most pure. We have already had a proof of this in what has been said of their commercial principles, and my conviction has been rendered stronger during my abode at Bolcheretsk, by a closer study of the inhabitants, who, this faint shade excepted, differ little from the indigenes. M. Kasloff, and those who accompanied him, in imitation of his example, frequently give entertainments or balls to the ladies of this ostrog, who accept such invitations with equal alacrity and joy. I had an opportunity of seeing that what I had been told was true; that these women, the Kamtschadales as well as the Russians, have a strong propensity to pleasure; their eagerness indeed is so great, that they are unable to conceal it. The precosity of the girls is astonishing, and seems not at all to be affected by the coldness of the climate. With respect to the women of Bolcheretsk, who were present at these assemblies, and who were chiefly either of mixed blood or of Russian parents, their figures in general did not appear disagreeable, and I perceived some who might be considered as handsome: but the freshness of youth is not of long duration; from childbearing, or the painful labours to which they are subjected, it fades away almost in the flower of their age. Their disposition is extremely cheerful; a little, perhaps, at the expence of decency. They endeavour to amuse the company by every thing which their gaiety and playfulness can furnish. They are fond of singing, and their voice is pleasant and agreeable; it is only to be wished that their music had less resemblance to their soil, and approached nearer to our own. They speak both the Russian and Kamtschadale languages, but they all preserve the accent of the latter idiom. I little expected to see in this part of the world Polish dances, and still less country dances in the English taste; but what was my surprise to find that they had even an idea of a minuet! Whether my abode for twenty six months upon the sea, had rendered me less fastidious, or that the recollections they revived fascinated my eyes, these dances appeared to be executed with tolerable precision, and more grace than I could have imagined. The dancers of whom we speak, have so much vanity as to hold in contempt the songs and dances of the natives. The toilet of the women on these occasions is an object of no trivial attention. They deck themselves out in all their allurements, and whatever is most costly. These ceremonious and ball dresses are principally of silks; and in the article of commerce we have already seen that they must be expensive. I shall finish this account with a remark that I had occasion to make, both in these assemblies and in those of the Kamtschadales; it is, that the majority of husbands, Russians as well as natives, are not susceptible of jealousy; they voluntarily shut their eyes upon the conduct of their wives, and are as docile as possible upon this chapter. The entertainments and assemblies of the native Kamtschadales, at which I was also present, offered a spectacle equally entitled to notice for its singularity. I know not which struck me most, the song or the dance. The dance appeared to me to be that of savages. It consisted in making regular movements, or rather unpleasant and difficult distortions, and in uttering at the same time a forced and gutteral sound, like a continued hiccough, to mark the time of the air sung by the assembly, the words of which are frequently void of sense, even in Kamtschadale. I noted down one of these airs, which I shall insert in this place, in order to give an idea of their music and metre. Illustration: (Music) Daria, Daria, da, Daria, ha, nou dalatch, damatch, kannha, koukka. Da Capo.  The words mean, Daria42, Daria sings and dances still. This air is repeated without ceasing. In their dances they are fond of imitating the different animals they pursue, such as the partridge and others, but principally the bear. They represent its sluggish and stupid gait, its different feelings and situations; as the young ones about their dam; the amourous sports of the male with the female; and lastly, its agitation when pursued. They must have a perfect knowledge of this animal, and have made it their particular study, for they represent all its motions as exactly, I believe, as it is possible. I asked the Russians, who were greater connoisseurs than myself, having been oftener present at the taking of these animals, whether their pantomime ballets were well executed; and they assured me that the dancers were the best in the country, and that the cries, gait, and various attitudes of the bear, were as accurate as life. Meanwhile, without offence to the amateurs, these dances are, in my opinion, not less fatiguing to the spectators than to the performers. It is a real pain to see them distort their hips, dislocate every limb, and wear out their lungs, to express the excess of pleasure which they take in these strange balls, which, I repeat it, resemble the absurd diversions of savages: the Kamtschadales may indeed, in many respects, be considered as of that rank. Having given an account of the address with which these people counterfeit the postures and motions of the bear, who may be called their dancing master, it may not be unpleasing to relate in what manner they hunt this animal. There are various modes of attacking it; sometimes they lay snares for it: under a heavy trap, supported in the air by a scaffolding sufficiently high, they place some kind of bait to attract the bear, and which he no sooner smells and perceives, than he eagerly advances to devour; at the same time he shakes the feeble support of the trap, which falls upon his neck, and punishes his voraciousness by crushing his head, and frequently his whole body. In passing the woods I have seen them caught in this way; the trap is kept baited till it succeeds, which sometimes does not happen for almost a year. This method of taking them requires no great boldness, or fatigue; but there is another mode, very much adopted in this country, to which equal strength and courage are necessary. A Kamtschadale goes out, either alone or in company, to find a bear. He has no other arms than his gun, a kind of carabine whose butend is very small; a lance or spear; and his knife. His stock of provision is made up in a bundle containing about twenty fish. Thus lightly equipped, he penetrates into the thickest part of the woods, and every place that is likely to be the haunt of this animal. It is commonly in the briars, or among the rushes on the borders of lakes and rivers, that the Kamtschadale posts himself, and waits the approach of his adversary with patience and intrepidity; if it be necessary, he will remain thus in ambuscade for a whole week together, till the bear makes his appearance. The moment it comes within his reach, he fixes in the ground a forked stick43 belonging to his gun, by means of which he takes a truer aim, and shoots with more certainty. It is seldom that, with the smallest ball, he does not strike the bear either in the head, or near the shoulder, which is the tenderest part. But he is obliged to charge again instantly, because the bear, if the first shot has not disabled him, runs44 at the hunter, who has not always time for a second shot. He has then recourse to his lance, with which he quickly arms himself to contend with the beast, who attacks him in his turn. His life is in danger45 if he does not give the bear a mortal thrust; and in such combats, it may be supposed the man is not always the conqueror; but this does not prevent the inhabitants of this country from daily exposing their lives; the frequent examples of the death of their countrymen has no effect upon them: indeed they never go out, without considering before hand that it is either to conquer or to die; and this severe alternative neither stops nor terrifies them46. They hunt other animals nearly in the same manner, such as rein deer, argali, or wild sheep, called in Russia dikibarani, foxes, otters, beavers, sables, hares47, c. but they have not the same dangers to encounter; sometimes they make use of snares, constructed of wood or iron, less than those which are set for bears, and resembling in their simplicity our pitfalls; no other attention is necessary than that of visiting them from time to time. The Kamtschadales sometimes lie in ambush, armed in the manner I have described; and the only hardship they experience results from their provision being exhausted in consequence of the long duration of their chace. They frequently submit to suffer hunger for many days together, rather than quit their stations till they have obtained the end of their pursuit; but they amply repay themselves for this fasting, by immediately devouring the flesh of the animals48, and by the pleasure with which they count over the skins they obtain from them. They chuse for their chace the seasons when the fur of the animal is in its greatest perfection. Sables are hunted in the beginning of winter. These animals live commonly in trees, and are called after their name; a part of the fur nearest the skin being of the same colour as those which they most frequent, as the birch, the fir, c. The most favourable seasons for hunting foxes are autumn, winter, and spring. There are four different species. 1. The whitish red fox, which is least esteemed. 2. The red or bright red fox. 3. The fox called svadouschka, the colour of which is a mixture of red, black, and grey. 4. The black fox, which is the scarcest and most valuable: it is really of a deep and entire black, except that at the extremity of the fur upon the back, which is the longest; a grey tint is sometimes perceptible. Some of this species are singularly valuable. There are two other species of the fox that may be added to these, though they are not regarded as such in this country, the blue fox and the white fox. They are called in Russia galouboy pessets, and beloy pessets; their fur is thicker than that of the rest of the species. The foxes of the continent are in general more beautiful than those caught in the different islands of the east49, and produce an infinitely higher price. Rein deer are hunted in winter, and argali in autumn. Otters are extremely scarce in this country; but there is a great abundance of ermines, though, I know not for what reason, no pains are taken to catch them; one would suppose they were of no value. The Kamtschadales have different seasons also for fishing. Their salmon and trout season is in June, their herring season in May, and that of the sea wolf in spring and summer, but principally in autumn. They seldom use seines, but almost always common nets50, or a kind of harpoon, which they manage with great dexterity. Seines serve only for sea wolves; they are made of leather straps, and the meshes are very large. They have another mode of fishing, by closing up the river with stakes and branches of trees, so as to leave only a narrow passage for the fish, or sometimes several, where they place baskets, so constructed that, if the fish once enter, it is impossible for them to retreat. Horses are very scarce in Kamtschatka. I saw some at Bolcheretsk belonging to government, and intrusted to the care of the Cossacs. They merely serve during summer for the carriage of merchandize and other effects of the crown, and for the convenience of travellers. Dogs however abound in this country, and are so serviceable to the Kamtschadales, as to render the privation of the other domestic animals less felt by them. They serve all the purposes of carriage, and are fed without difficulty or expence, their food consisting entirely of the offals, or such decayed fish as are rejected by their masters; and even these are not allowed, unless when it is necessary. In summer, which is their season of rest, little care is taken of them; the dogs well know how to provide for themselves, by ranging over the country and along the sides of lakes and rivers; and the punctuality with which they return, is one of the most striking proofs of the fidelity of these animals. When winter arrives, they dearly pay for the liberty and temporary repose they have enjoyed. Their labour and slavery begin anew, and these dogs must have extreme vigour to be able to support them. Meanwhile they are not remarkably large, and resemble pretty exactly our mountain dogs, or such as are commonly used by shepherds. There is not an individual inhabitant, Russian or native, that has less than five. They make use of them when they travel, when they go to the forests to cut wood, and for the conveyance of their effects and provisions, as well as their persons. In short, these dogs conduct travellers from place to place, and horses could not in reality be more serviceable. They are harnessed to a sledge two and two together51, with a single one before as a leader. This honour is bestowed on the most intelligent, or the best trained dog, and he understands wonderfully the terms used by the conductor to direct his course. The cry of tagtag, tagtag, turns him to the right, and kougha, kougha, to the left; the intelligent animal understands it immediately, and gives to the rest the example of obedience: ah, ah, stops them, and ha makes them set off. The number of dogs that it is necessary to harness, depends upon the load; when it is little more than the weight of the person who mounts the sledge, it is considered as a common sledge, or saunka52, and the team consists of four or five dogs. The harness53 is made of leather. It passes under the neck, that is, upon the breast of these steeds, and is joined to the sledge by a strap three feet long, in the manner of a trace: the dogs are also fastened together by couples passed through their collars; these collars are frequently covered with bear's skin, by way of ornament. The form of the sledge is like that of an oblong basket, the two extremities of which are elevated in a curve. Its length is about three feet, and its breadth scarcely exceeds a foot. This kind of basket, which composes the body of the sledge, is of very thin wood; the sides are of open work, and ornamented with straps of different colours. The seat of the charioteer is covered with bear's skin, and elevated three feet from the ground, upon four legs, which diverge towards the lower extremity, and are fastened to two parallel planks, three or four inches broad. These planks are not thick, but so long as to extend beyond the body of the sledge, to which they serve as supports and and as skates. For this purpose they are furnished underneath, in time of thaw, with three or four long pieces of whalebone, all of them of the same breadth, and fastened to the skates with leathern thongs. In front these planks bend upward, and so meet the poles of the sledge, which gradually lower for that purpose, and are adapted to receive a part of the baggage. The front of the sledge is farther adorned with floating reins or shreds of leather, which are of no use. The charioteer has nothing in his hand but a curved stick, which serves him both for rudder and whip. Iron rings are suspended at one end of the stick, as much for ornament, as to encourage the dogs by the noise which these kind of bells make, and which are frequently jingled for that purpose; the other end is sometimes pointed with iron, to make an easier impression on the ice, and serves at the same time to guide the ardour of these animals. Dogs, that are well trained, have no need to hear the voice of the conductor; if he strike the ice with his stick, they will go to the left; if he strike the legs of the sledge, they will go to the right; and when he wishes them to stop, he has only to place the stick between the snow and the front of the sledge. When they slacken their pace, and become careless and inattentive to the signals, or to his voice, he throws his stick at them54; but then the utmost address is necessary to regain it, as he proceeds rapidly along; and this is one of the strongest tests of the skill of the conductor. The Kamtschadales are singularly expert in this exercise. I was in general astonished at the dexterity they displayed in driving their sledges, and as I was soon to have the happiness of travelling in this vehicle, I conceived that I ought to practice, not so much to reconcile myself to it, as to learn to be my own guide. It was in vain they represented to me the risks I should run, by exposing myself alone in a sledge, before I had acquired sufficient skill to know how to conduct it; at my age we are all confident, and I listened not to their cautions. The lightness of my carriage, which scarcely exceeded ten pounds, its elevation, which rendered it more liable to be overturned, the difficulty of preserving the equilibrium, and, in short, the consequences that might attend a fall, if I lost my hold of the sledge55; all these considerations, which were exposed to my view, could neither intimidate nor dissuade me from so dangerous an apprenticeship. I mounted one day my new car, consenting however to be followed, and a multitude of sledges attended me. It was not long before the company saw their predictions realized; I had advanced a very little way, when I exhibited a complete fall. Scarcely remounted, I repeated the scene, and occasioned a new burst of laughter: in spite of this, I did not lose my courage, but quickly recovered myself to be overturned again as quickly. I had sufficient reason to be inured to these accidents, for in every attempt I paid the tribute of inexperience. Seven times did I fall in taking my first lesson, but without receiving any injury; and I only returned with more eagerness to take a second, then a third, then a fourth; in short, a day scarcely passed, without my making some progress. The number of my falls diminished, in proportion as I acquired more knowledge and skill, and my success rendered me such an amateur of this exercise, that in a short time I acquired a degree of reputation; it cost me, however, considerable pains to habituate myself to the observance of the necessary equilibrium. The body is, as it were, in continual motion. Here we must lean to the right, because the sledge inclines to the left; there we must suddenly change to the left, because it leans to the right: the next minute, perhaps our posture must be erect; and if we fail in quickness or attention, it is seldom that an immediate overthrow is not the consequence. In falling, it is still necessary not to quit the vehicle, but to hold it as firm as possible, in order to create a sufficient weight to impede the dogs, who, as I have already said, will otherwise advance full speed. The common mode of sitting in a sledge is side ways, as a lady rides on horseback; we may also sit astride; but the point of main difficulty, the ne plus ultra of address and of grace, is to be able to stand upon one leg: it is excellent to see an adept in this striking attitude. For myself, I was no sooner able to drive, than I abandoned every other mode of conveyance. Always accompanied, because of the roads, I sometimes took a ride, and sometimes went a hunting. The tracks of hares and partridges were perceptible on the snow56, and to such a degree, that it appeared full of holes like a sieve. The snow was frequently so deep in the woods, that it was impossible to proceed a step without sinking in; our resource in that case was to quit our sledges, which were no longer serviceable to us, and turn them upon their side. Having taking this precaution, which was sufficient to retain our dogs, who immediately laid themselves down in a circular form upon the snow, and patiently waited the return of their guides; we fastened to the soles of our feet, with leathern thongs, rackets, made of thin board57, six or eight inches wide and four feet long, the front of which turned up like skates, and the bottom was covered with the skin of the sea wolf or rein deer. Furnished with these kind of shoes, we continued our chace; I had at first some difficulty to accustom myself to them, and I fell more than once both upon my back and my face; but the pleasure of a good chase made me soon forget these accidents. Though it was difficult to perceive the hares and partridges, whose whiteness equalled that of the snow, I did not fail, after a little practice, and some instructions from my companions, to bring home a tolerable number. This was one of my most agreeable diversions while at Bolcheretsk; the rest of my hours were occupied in expressing my impatience and uneasiness, on account of the length of time I was obliged to stay there. To give a different turn to my thoughts, I embraced the few fine days that we experienced, to visit some of the environs, which I had a second opportunity of viewing upon my departure, and which I shall mention when I proceed on my travels. The construction of my travelling sledges58 engaged also my attention; but my chief consolation was the company of M. Kasloff and the officers of his suite. Their conventions, and the enquiries which I made, enabled me almost every day to take notes, a part of which I have already transcribed, and shall now proceed with the rest. The diseases that prevail in Kamtschatka is the first article that presents itself. Disagreeable as may be the details they require, I conceive that I ought not to suppress them; they form a part of my observations, and should have a place in my journals. The small pox, whose ravages I have already mentioned, appears not to be natural to the country, nor is it very common. Since the invasion of the Russians, and the frequent emigrations that succeeded it, this epidemical disease has only made its appearance in 1767 and 1768. It was then brought into the country by a Russian vessel bound to the Eastern islands, for the purpose of hunting otters, foxes, and other animals. The person, who had in his blood the fatal germ, was a sailor from Okotsk, where he had taken remedies for the disorder, previous to his departure; but the recent marks of it were visible. Scarcely landed, he communicated this cruel malady to the poor Kamtschadales, which carried off three fourths of them. As it has not appeared since, it is supposed that these people are not subject to it. In the year 1720 it broke out in the northern part of Kamtschatka but it did not spread so far as the peninsula. It began at Anadirskoi; it is not known how it was brought there, though the Russians are also accused in this instance. There is reason to suspect that the Kamtschadales are indebted to them in like manner for their knowledge of the venereal disease, which happily is not common. This pestilence appears to be exotic, and its cure is as difficult as it is rare. They have recourse to various roots and to corrosive sublimate, which is attended in this country with its usual ruinous effects, and the more so, as being indiscreetly administered. The Kamtschadales have no deformed births. Such as are deformed among them, have become so in consequence of a considerable fall, though this is not a very common occurrence, as they are accustomed to fall from their balagans. They are but little subject to the scurvy; their use of wild garlic, and various fruits and berries, is a preservative. The Russians and other settlers are more frequently afflicted with this disease. Consumptions are frequent enough; but boils, tumors, abscesses, and wens, are very common. They have no mode of curing them, but by incision or extirpation; and they use for these operations a knife, or perhaps simply a sharp stone, which supplies the place of a lancet. Such instruments are calculated to impress us with no very high opinion of the skill of the operators; and it is obvious that the art of surgery, brought to such perfection with us, is in a state of the utmost barbarism at Kamtschatka. Physic does not appear to have made a greater progress; though it must be confessed that these people have gained something by learning to distrust their impostors and absurd empiricks. Formerly, selfcreated magicians, called chamans, taking advantage of the credulity of the Kamtschadales, turned doctors of physic, and thus secured to themselves a double claim to their veneration and confidence59. Their strange dress contributed to the imposition, and suited perfectly their extravagant mummeries. What was told me upon the subject would exceed the utmost stretch of faith, if we had never heard of the Bohemians and other sorcerers of this kind. It is not possible to form an idea of the buffooneries of these suppositious physicians, and the impertinencies they relate, to make their prescriptions or pretended revelations go down. It is probable that their cures were frequently attended with fatal consequences, and that the number of victims equalled that of their patients. Tired at last of being duped at the expence of their lives, the Kamtschadales began to be dissatisfied with these impostors, who gradually lost their credit, and sunk into contempt and oblivion. Such has been the fate also of the chamans. The feeble light which the Russian commerce diffused through the country, proved sufficient to open the eyes of the inhabitants. They perceived at once the absurdity of the magic art of their doctors. As it ceased to be respected, it was no longer lucrative, and the number of magicians diminished of course. Disgusted with the trade, the men abandoned it; and it has since been taken up by some old women, who, possessing less skill, have doubtless fewer customers60. The women of this country have seldom more than ten children, the common estimate is four or five, they bear none after the age of forty. They assist one another in their deliveries, which are effected with great facility: meanwhile there are midwives in Kamtschatka, but their number is very small. The accidents which prove fatal to so many mothers, are much less frequent to these women, than instances of childbirth in the open air, in roads, or wherever their occupations call them. On these occasions they make use of their hair, I am told, to tie the umbilical cord, carry home their children themselves, and immediately give them suck. They have no limited time for suckling their children, and I have seen instances of its continuing for four or five years. We may judge from this circumstance of the strong constitution of these women. It is observed, however, that Kamtschadales of either sex, do not live longer than Russians. I forgot to mention a remedy to which the inhabitants of this peninsula have voluntary recourse in almost every disease: it is to a root called bears root, which they steep in brandy. The name sufficiently indicates to whom they are indebted for its knowledge. Perceiving that the bear was fond of eating this herb, and of rolling himself upon it when wounded, they imagined it to possess some healing quality, and this induced them to make use of it. This animal thus gave them their first lesson in botany and pharmacy. It is said however, that the bear cures all his wounds with this root. If this be true, it is natural to suppose that human beings would find it very serviceable: but as I have never had occasion to make the experiment, I can only speak from report. The Christian religion was introduced into this country by the Russians; but the inhabitants appear to know little more of it than the ceremony of baptism. They are ignorant of the very first principles of Christianity. Slaves to their inclinations, they follow their impulse whether good or bad. If they think of religion, it is merely from a motive of convenience or interest, or when particular circumstances compel them to it. This proves how very defective their instruction is, and reflects in my opinion upon the clergy, whose business it is to enlighten their ignorance. But are these clerical missionaries sufficiently informed themselves? They have no opportunity it must be acknowledged for profound study, and probably it is not required of them, as it is common enough to see a Kamtschadale admitted to this dignified office. These popes are all under the authority of a protapope, or high priest, resident at Nijenei, and he again is subordinate to the archbishop of Irkoutsk, who alone ordains and appoints the clergy to their cures, so that they are all obliged to resort to this settlement. The length and perils of the journey are considered perhaps as a kind of initiation; and without any other merit or examination, they probably receive holy orders: it is certain they return neither wiser nor better. These divines are then sent to their places of destination; the time they continue is not limited, and depends on the will of their chiefs. There are eight principal churches in Kamtschatka: Paratounka, Bolcheretsk, Jchinsk, Tiguil, Vercknei, Klutchefskaa, and two at Nijenei; to these may be added the church of Ingiga, in the country of the Koriacs. The district or parish of Paratounka includes seven ostrogs and the Kurilles islands; viz. the ostrog of the same name, Saint Peter and Saint Paul, Koriaki, Natchikin, Apatchin, Malkin, and Bolcheretsk. The number of parishioners contained in these ostrogs, does not exceed four hundred; and including the Kurilles islands, the general calculation is not more than six hundred and twenty Christians. The rector of Paratounka is allowed by the empress a salary of eighty roubles, and twenty pouds61 of rye flour. His parishioners of consequence, pay no tythes; but he receives alms and other casual emoluments attached to his church. For a marriage, a christening, or a burial, these priests demand whatever they please. There is no regulation in this respect, and every thing is governed solely by their caprice, which occasions considerable impositions and abuses. In general however, they endeavour to proportion their demands to the abilities of their parishioners, a discretion that is entitled to applause. The Kamtschadales are free. They are subject only to an annual tribute to Russia, which consists, as I have already said, in various kinds of furs; so that the produce of their chace, turns almost entirely to the advantage of the empress. Every chief of a family is obliged to furnish for himself and for each of his children, even such as are in their minority, a certain quantity of skins equivalent to his share of taxation: this may amount to seven roubles more or less, and the skins, I am told, are generally valued at the lowest possible price. This mode of paying tribute must produce a considerable revenue to the crown, if we merely judge from the number of sables the province annually supplies, which is something more than four thousand. The toyon of each ostrog collects the taxes, and remits them to the treasurer of the crown; a receipt is previously given to every individual of the amount of his tribute, and each Kamtschadale takes care to mark with his seal, or some other sign, all the furs that he delivers. The current coins are the golden imperial of ten roubles; the rouble, and half rouble. There are very few silver coins below this value; a proof that no article of merchandize is expected to produce less than half a rouble. Copper and paper money have not yet reached this peninsula. A variety of old silver coins of the times of Peter I. Catherine I. and Elizabeth, abound here. A considerable branch of commerce may be made of them; the silver is purer and more valuable than that of common coins. The pay of the soldiers or Cossacs is fifteen roubles a year. The officers sent by government to so distant a country, receive double salaries. The peninsula of Kamtschatka, when major Behm presided at Bolcheretsk, was under the jurisdiction of the government general of Irkoutsk. Upon the departure of this governor, whom the English saw upon their first arrival in 1779, captain Schmaleff was deputed in his room, and enjoyed for a year the power and satisfaction of doing good to the inhabitants, who entertain for him an equal respect and gratitude. M. Renikin supplied his place in 1780, and was recalled in 1784 for reasons which I am obliged to suppress. At this period the Kamtschatka department was reunited to that of Okotsk. The chiefs and officers of the different ostrogs have since been subject to the orders of the governor at Okotsk, and to the decisions of its courts of justice; these are themselves subordinate and accountable to the governor general residing at Irkoutsk. The present commanding officer, or governor, at Bolcheretsk, which was formerly the capital of Kamtschatka, is now merely a sergeant; the name of the person I left there was Rastargouieff, and he had been nominated to the office by M. Kasloff. The governors in these various ostrogs are not accountable to one another for their administration, not even inferior officers to their superiors; the authority of each is limited to the inhabitants of his own district; which has doubtless induced the empress to appoint an inspector general, capitan ispravnick, whose business is to visit every year all the Kamtschadale villages, receive their complaints, examine their differences, judge them, and punish such as are guilty; in short to maintain order and peace among them. It is also a duty of his function to encourage commerce, particularly their fishing and hunting, to inspect the regular payment of their tribute, the stock of provisions of each individual for his own support, and that of his family, the repairs of the bridges and roads, which unfortunately are very few, and kept in very bad order. In a word, the inspector general should consider it as incumbent upon him to introduce among these people the manners and customs of Russia. This important office was confided, in 1784, to baron de Steinheil, who fixed his residence at Nijenei. Affairs calling him elsewhere, he was succeeded by M. Schmaleff, who, in accompanying us, was making the tour of his office. The government is not purely military; there are some tribunals established for hearing and deciding causes and other matters juridically. Such are the tribunals of Tiguil, Ingiga, and NijeneiKamtschatka; they are subject to the jurisdiction of the court of Okotsk, in the same manner as in Russia the magistrates of the subordinate towns hold from those of the capital, in whom the final decision rests. There is beside at Bolcheretsk a kind of consular jurisdiction, or vocal tribunal, called in Russia Slovesnoisoud. The judges are merchants; they take cognizance of all disputes relating to commerce, and their decisions are either confirmed or annulled by the court to which they are carried by appeal. The Russian code of laws is the only one that is attended to; it is too well known to require that I should enter into particulars; and I could only repeat what has been already related by various historians and travellers better informed upon the subject than myself. I ought however to add, that the property of the Kamtschadales devolves, of course, upon their decease, to the next heir, or to whomsoever it is bequeathed. The will of the testator is equally respected, and as literally adhered to, as it could be with those nations of Europe who are most scrupulous on the subject of successions. Divorces are neither practised or allowed among the Kamtschadales. The Russians seem to court their alliance, though it procures them no particular privilege. Their motive is obvious. By frequent marriages, it is possible that before the end of the present generation, the race of the indigenes may be totally extinct. The penalty of death, abolished in all the dominions of the empress, is never inflicted in Kamtschatka. In their earliest migrations, the Russians, when accused of harassing the natives, were condemned to the knowt; the Kamtschadales also, for various offences, were liable to this cruel punishment; but it is no longer practiced. When the natives are guilty either of petty or capital offences, the punishment is whipping. It may be questioned whether they have gained by the change. The present mode of punishing them being more simple and expeditious, it is resorted to with less scruple, and is liable to frequent abuse. The Kamtschadale idiom appeared to me to be uncouth, guttural, and difficult to be pronounced; the words are broken, and the sounds disagreeable. There are as many different dialects and accents as there are ostrogs. For instance, upon leaving Saint Peter and Saint Paul, we are astonished to hear a different jargon at Paratounka: this is the case with villages the nearest to one another. Notwithstanding these variations of idiom, I considered it as incumbent upon me to procure a vocabulary, which will be found at the end of my journal. I shall add to it the Koriac, the Tchouktchi, and the Lamout languages. My attention to the subject was unremitted, and I received very considerable assistance. I shall finish the article of my abode at Bolcheretsk, with some observations that will tend to prove the impossibility of my leaving it sooner. Towards the end of November the cold became on a sudden so severe, that in a few days the rivers were all frozen, even the Bolchaareka, which seldom happens, because of the extreme rapidity of its current. The next day it got rid of the ice that covered it, and from that time I saw no more stop before Bolcheretsk, lower than the house of the governor. Though frozen in various places, it presents a great number chasms, where the water is seen to flow as usual. On each shore of the peninsula, there is a sensible difference in the atmosphere. During the fine weather, a drought prevailed at Saint Peter and Saint Paul's, whereas at Bolcheretsk they complained of frequent showers; meanwhile autumn had not proved this year more rainy than common. Very heavy rains are injurious in this country, because they occasion floods, which drive the fish from the rivers; a famine most distressing to the poor Kamtschadales is the result, as it happened last year in all the villages along the western coast of the peninsula. This dreadful calamity occurs so frequently in this quarter, that the inhabitants are obliged to abandon their dwellings, and repair with their families to the borders of the Kamtschatka, where they hope to find better resources, fish being more plentiful in this river. M. Kasloff had intended to proceed along the western coast, having already made his visit through the east; but the news of this famine determined him, contrary to his wishes, to return, rather than be driven to the necessity of stopping half way, or perishing with hunger from the difficulty of procuring dogs and provision. The wind varied considerably during my residence at Bolcheretsk; it was most commonly west, northwest, or northeast; it blew sometimes from the south, but seldom from the east. The south and west winds are almost invariably attended with snow. Scarcely a week passed, even to the month of January, without our experiencing two or three violent tempests; they commonly proceeded from the northwest. These gales of wind lasted always a day or two, and sometimes seven or eight days. It would have been the height of imprudence to venture out at such a season. The sky was completely obscured, and the snow, supported by these whirlwinds, formed in the air a thick fog, that prevented us from seeing at the distance of six yards. Woe to all travellers who are exposed to this terrible weather! necessity compels them to stop, or they run the risk of losing themselves, or of falling every moment into some abyss; for how is it possible they should find their way, or advance a step, when they have to resist the impetuosity of the wind, and to disengage themselves from the heaps of snow that suddenly encompass them? If such be the dangers encountered by the men, what must we suppose the poor dogs to suffer. Nothing is more common, when overtaken by these hurricanes, than to find ourselves separated from the sledges of our companions, to the distance of two wersts or upwards from each other, and proceeding in an opposite direction62. The frequency of these tempests, and the deplorable accidents they occasion, convinced us of the necessity of deferring our departure. M. Kasloff was equally as impatient to arrive at the place of his destination, as I was to continue my journey, that I might execute my commission with the diligence that had been recommended to me; but every one whose advice we asked, condemned our eagerness, and proved particularly as to myself, that, entrusted with such important dispatches, it would be rashness to proceed. This reflection pacified me. M. Kasloff anticipated my wishes, by giving me a certificate, accounting for my long residence at Bolcheretsk, by a relation of the circumstances that had occasioned it. The gales of wind having at length ceased towards the middle of January, we eagerly set about preparing for our departure, which was fixed for the 27 of that month. We furnished ourselves in the best manner we could with brandy, beef, rye, flour, and oatmeal. A considerable quantity of loaves were prepared for us, of which we reserved some to supply us during the first few days of our journey, and the rest were cut into thin slices and baked in an oven like biscuits: what was left of our flour, we put into sacks as a resource in time of need. M. Kasloff had ordered that as many dogs as possible should be collected. Multitudes were presently brought from all the neighbouring ostrogs; we had also provision for them in abundance, the only difficulty was how we should carry it. We had resolved to set off early in the morning of 27; but when we came to load our sledges, we found our baggage so considerable, that, in spite of the number of hands employed, it was not completed till the evening. We were out of humour; no day in my life ever appeared so tedious. Vexed at the delay, we would not defer our departure till the next day, and were no sooner informed that every thing was ready, than we ran to our sledges and were out of Bolcheretsk in a moment. We started at seven o'clock. It was moonlight, and the snow added to its brightness. Our departure merits a description. Conceive of our numerous cavalcade amounting to thirtyfive sledges63. In the first was a sergeant of the name of Kabechoff, who was appointed to superintend and direct our procession. He gave the signal, and instantly all these sledges set off in file. They were drawn by three hundred dogs64 of equal courage and speed. Presently the line was broken, the order disturbed, and all was confusion. A spirited emulation animated the conductors, and it became as it were a chariot race. It was who should drive fastest; no one was willing to be outstripped; the dogs themselves could not bear this affront; they partook the rivalship of their masters, fought with one another to obtain the precedence, and the sledges were overturned, frequently at the risk of being dashed to pieces. The clamour of those who were overturned, the yelping of the struggling dogs, the mixed cry of those that proceeded, and the confused and continual chattering of the guides, compleated the disorder, and prevented us both from knowing and hearing one another. To enjoy this tumult the more at my ease, I quitted my sledge where I was imprisoned, and placed myself in a smaller one, in which, beside the pleasure of driving myself, I could see what was passing around me. Fortunately no accident happened, and I had no reason to repent of my curiosity. This embarassment was chiefly occasioned by the concourse of the inhabitants of Bolcheretsk, who, from attachment as well as respect, were desirous of accompanying M. Kasloff to Apatchin65, where we arrived about midnight: the distance of Bolcheretsk from this ostrog is fortyfour wersts. A few moments after our arrival a tempestuous wind arose, which would greatly have incommoded us, if it had happened during our route. It continued the rest of the night and all the next day, which we were obliged therefore to spend at Apatchin. Here we received the last adieux of the inhabitants of Bolcheretsk. I was struck with their gratitude and attachment to M. Kasloff, and the regret they expressed at leaving him, as well as their concern for me, and the interest they took in the success of my journey. I was the more pleased with their attentions, as I had observed while at Bolcheretsk, that the French nation was not held in any high esteem by them; they had even so bad an opinion of us, that it was with difficulty they were brought to believe what had been told them of the politeness and cordiality of the crews of the French frigates to the inhabitants of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. In proportion however as they heard their countrymen extol our conduct, their prejudice grew weaker. I endeavoured by my conversation and behaviour to destroy it entirely. I dare not flatter myself to have succeeded; but it appeared to me that a complete change at last took place in their sentiments respecting us. The disadvantageous impression which they had imbibed of the character and genius of our nation, originated in the perfidy and cruelty exhibited in the person of the famous Beniowsky in this part of the peninsula. This slave called himself a Frenchman, and acted like a true Vandal. His history is known. During the troubles of 1769 he served in Poland under the colours of the confederates. His intrepidity induced them to make choice of him to command a medley troop of foreigners, or rather robbers, like himself, whom they kept in pay, not from choice but necessity. With Beniowsky at their head, they ransacked the country, massacring every one they met. He harassed the Russians, to whom he was as formidable as to his own countrymen. They soon felt the necessity of getting rid of so dangerous an enemy: he was taken prisoner, and it may be supposed they adopted no very lenient measures respecting him. Banished to Siberia, and afterwards to Kamtschatka, his fiery and vindictive genius accompanied him. Escaped from the mountains of snow, under which the Russians supposed him to be buried, he suddenly made his appearance at Bolcheretsk with a troop of exiles, to whom he had imparted a spark of his own audacity. He surprised the garrison and took possession of the arms; the governor, M. Nilloff, was killed by his hand. There was a vessel in the port; he seized it: every one trembled at his aspect; all submitted to his will. He compelled the poor Kamtschadales to furnish him with the provisions he demanded; and not content with the sacrifices obtained, he gave up their habitations to the unbridled licentiousness of his banditti, to whom he set the example of villainy and ferocity. He embarked at length with his companions, and sailed, it was said, towards China, carrying with him the execrations of the people of Kamtschatka. This suppositious Frenchman was the only one they had yet seen in the peninsula; and from such a specimen of our nation, they certainly could not love, and had sufficient reason to fear us. M. Schmaleff quitted us at break of day, and set off for Tiguil, on the western coast, to complete the visit of his government66. We left Apatchin almost at the same time. Our retinue being less numerous we made more expedition. Having passed the plain in which this ostrog is situated, we met the Bolchaareka, upon which we journeyed for several hours. We followed it through all its windings, sometimes in the middle of a forest, and sometimes at the foot of steep and dreary mountains, which arise at intervals on its banks. Fifteen wersts from Malkin we left this river, because the current began to put in motion the ice which was broken in different places; and before we reached this ostrog, we crossed the Bristraa. We arrived about two o'clock. The distance from Apatchin is sixtyfour wersts, and having no change of dogs, we were obliged to stop, to give them time to rest. The toyon of Malkin came to meet M. Kasloff, and offered him his isba. Considerable preparations had been made for our reception, which induced us to pass the night there. He treated us with the utmost respect, and entertained us in the best manner he could. I regretted that his cares had not extended to the article of our repose. Mine was terribly interrupted by the noise of our steeds, to which I was not yet accustomed. The shrill and incessant howlings of these cursed animals, seemed close at my ears, and prevented me from sleeping during the whole night. It is necessary to have heard this nocturnal music, the most disagreeable I ever experienced, to judge of what I suffered in habituating myself to it; for in the course of my journey I was obliged to learn to rest in defiance of it. After a few bad nights, sleep at last overpowered me, and I was insensible to all noise. By degrees I became so inured to the cries of these animals, that I could repose in the midst of them in perfect tranquillity. I shall mention in this place, that the dogs are only fed once a day, at the end of their journey; their repast consists commonly of a dried salmon distributed to each of them. The ostrog of Malkin is similar to those which I have already described. It contains five or six isbas and a dozen balagans, is situated upon the border of the Bistraa, and surrounded with high mountains. I had no time to visit the hot springs that are said to be in this neighbourhood, the waters of which are strongly impregnated with sulphur; and one in particular, issuing from the declivity of a hill, forms at the bottom a bason of tolerably clear water. From Malkin we went to Ganal, which is fortyfive wersts, but we were unable to travel with the speed we had expected. The Bistraa was not completely frozen, and we were obliged to wind about and to cross woods, where the snow, though deep, was so far from firm, that our dogs sunk to their bellies, and were extremely fatigued. This induced us to abandon this road, and make again for the Bistraa. We came up to it at ten wersts from Ganal, and found it in the state we had wished. The solidity of the ice promised us expeditious travelling, and we readily embraced the advantage. We followed this river till we came to the ostrog which is upon its bank, and consists of four isbas and twelve balagans. It offered nothing remarkable. We only learned that there had been some very terrible hurricanes, and that they had not yet subsided, though their force was considerably diminished. There is no difficulty in accounting for the violence of these tempests. The surrounding high mountains form so many recesses in which the wind is embayed. The fewer avenues it has to escape at, the more impetuous it becomes: it seeks out a passage, rushes through the first that offers, breaks out in whirlwinds, scatters the snow over the roads, and generally renders them impassable. Having spent a very indifferent night in the house of the toyon of Ganal, we set off the next day for Pouschin. The distance is ninety wersts, which however we performed in fourteen hours; but the last half of the journey was very painful. No road being opened, our sledges sunk three or four feet in the snow, and the jolts were so frequent, that I was happy to escape with being only once overturned. We judged from the snow upon the trees, that it must have proceeded from the north, and been very heavy, which was confirmed by the inhabitants. Our road lay invariably through a forest of birch trees, and for some time we lost sight of the mountains, by which we had passed the preceding evening; but as we drew nearer to Pouschin they became visible again. The Kamtschatka runs by the lower end of this ostrog, which is larger than that of Ganal. The only thing I remarked in this place was, that the isbas had no chimneys; they have only, like the balagans, a narrow opening in the roof to let out the smoak, which is frequently closed up by a trap door to confine the heat. It is not possible to continue in apartments warmed in this manner; we must either come out, or prostrate ourselves on the floor, if we would escape being stifled, or at least blinded, by the smoke: it does not ascend directly towards the roof, but spreads a thick black cloud over the chamber; and as it seldom has time wholly to evaporate, the interior part of these isbas is lined with soot, which gives them a disgusting aspect and a most offensive smell. But it is still less unpleasant than the noisome odour exhaled from a dismal lamp, that serves as a light to the whole house. Its form is not of the most elegant kind: it is simply a hollow pebble or stone, with a rag rolled up in the middle for a wick, round which is placed the grease of the sea wolf, or other animals. As soon as the wick is lighted, we are immediately surrounded with a dark and thick vapour, which contributes equally with the smoke to blacken the whole room: it seises the nose and throat, and penetrates to the very heart. This is not the only disagreeable smell that is experienced in these habitations; there is another, in my opinion, much more fetid, and which I never could endure; it is the nauseous exhalation from the dried and stinking fish, when it is preparing, when they are eating it, and even after it is eaten. The refuse is destined for the dogs; but before the poor animals get it, every corner of the room has been swept with it. The persons who inhabit these dwellings exhibit a spectacle equally disgusting. Here is a group of women, shining from the fat with which they smear themselves, and wallowing on the ground amidst a heap of rags; some of them suckling their children, who are half naked, and bedaubed with filth from head to foot; others devouring with them some scraps of fish perfectly raw, and frequently putrid. There we see others in a dishabille that is not less filthy, lying upon bear's skins, chattering to one another, and frequently altogether, and employed in various domestic occupations, in expectation of their husbands. Fortunately the houses of the toyons were cleaned as well as possible for the reception of M. Kasloff, who had always the kindness to let me lodge with him. We slept at Pouschin in the house of the toyon, and departed very early the next morning; we only travelled this day thirty four wersts. It seemed that the farther we advanced, the more the roads were obstructed with the snow. My two conductors were continually employed in keeping my sledge upright, to prevent it from overturning, or going out of the road; they were obliged also to exert their lungs to encourage the dogs, who frequently stopped, notwithstanding the blows that were bestowed upon them with equal profusion and address. These poor creatures, whose strength is inconceivable, had all the difficulty in the world to disengage themselves from the snow, which covered them as fast as they shook it off. It was frequently necessary to smooth it before them, to enable them to extricate the sledge. This also was the office of my guides. To support themselves upon the snow, they each fastened a racket to one of their feet, and in this manner they slid along, resting now and then their other foot upon the skate of the sledge. I doubt whether any exercise can be more fatiguing, or require greater strength and skill. The ostrog of Charom, at which we had the good fortune to arrive, is situated upon the Kamtschatka: it furnished me with no remarks. We passed part of the night there, and left it before day. In seven hours we reached VerckneiKamtschatka, which is thirtyfive wersts from Charom. Vercknei is a very considerable place, compared with the ostrogs I had hitherto seen. I counted more than a hundred houses. Its situation is commodious, and the prospect round it tolerably various, Besides bordering upon the river67, it has the farther advantage of being near to woods and fields, the soil of which is good, and begins to be cultivated by the inhabitants. The church is built of wood; its architecture is not disagreeable, and it is only to be wished that the inside corresponded with the external appearance. The inhabitants differ in no respect from those of the other villages. For the first time I saw at this place a species of buildings, about the height of a balagan, that serve no other purpose than to dry fish. A serjeant had the command at Vercknei, who lives in a house belonging to the crown. This village is also the place of residence of the unfortunate Ivaschin, whose history I related upon my leaving Saint Peter and Saint Pauls68; he was of our party, and had only quitted us in order to arrive sooner at Vercknei, where his first care had been to kill one of his oxen, which he entreated us to accept for our journey, as a testimony of his gratitude. This proceeding justified the concern I felt for him, whose aspect alone made me more than once shudder at the idea of his misfortunes. I cannot easily conceive how he was able to support them, and reconcile himself to his fate: it must have been the consciousness of his innocence alone, that could have given him such strength of mind. We paid him a visit upon our arrival. He was drinking merrily with some of his neighbours. His joy was sincere, and gave us no intimation of a man sensible of his past sufferings, or weary of his present situation. Our stay at Vercknei was short; we set out after dinner in order to sleep at MilkovaaDerevna, otherwise called the village of Milkoff, which was at the distance of fifteen wersts. In our way we passed a tolerably large field inclosed with pallisades, and farther on a zaimka, that is, a hamlet inhabited by labourers. These labourers were Cossacs, or Russian soldiers, employed in the cultivation of land on government account. They had eighty horses belonging to the crown, and which equally answer the purposes of industry, and of the stud established in this place for the propagation of animals so useful and so scarce in the peninsula. About five hundred yards from this hamlet, which is called Ischigatchi, upon an arm of the Kamtschatka, is a water mill built of wood, but not very large. No use could at present be made of it. The swell of water had been so great as to overflow the sluice, and to spread itself over a part of the plain where it was frozen. The soil appeared to be good, and the country round it to be very pleasant. I questioned the Cossacs upon the productions of their canton, where I conceived every species of corn might be cultivated with success. They told me that their last harvest had, both in quantity and quality, surpassed their hopes, and was not inferior to the finest harvests in Russia: two pouds of corn had produced ten. Arrived at Milkoff, I was astonished no longer to see either Kamtschadales or Cossacs, but an interesting colony of peasants whose features and address told me they were not a mixed breed. This colony was selected in 1743, partly in Russia and partly in Siberia, among the primitive inhabitants, that is, among the husbandmen. The view of administration, in sending them into this country was, that they might clear the land and make experiments in agriculture; hoping that their example and success would instruct and encourage the indigenes, and induce them to employ their labours in this advantageous and necessary art. Unfortunately their extreme indolence, which I have already described, little corresponded with the wise intentions of government; and so far are they from pretending to any rivalship, that they have never derived the smallest advantage from the examples that are before their eyes. This extreme sluggishness of the natives is the more painful to an observer, as he cannot but admire the industry of these active emigrants, whose labours have been attended with such beneficial effects. Their habitations, situated upon the Kamtschatka, seem to shew that they live at their ease. Their cattle thrive well from the great care they take of them. I observed also that these peasants had in general very much the air of being contented with their situation. Their labour is profitable, and not excessive. Every man plows and sows his field, and having only his capitation to pay, he reaps abundantly the fruit of his exertions, which a fertile soil repays him with usury. I am convinced that greater advantages might be derived from this source, if the cultivators were more numerous. The harvest consists chiefly of rye, and a very small quantity of barley. This colony has nothing to do with the chace. Government extended its cares so far as to prohibit it, that their labours might be wholly devoted to agriculture, and that nothing might divert their attention. The prohibition however, I could perceive, is not very scrupulously observed. Their chief is a staroste, appointed by administration, and selected from the old men of the village, as the name implies. His business is to inspect the progress of agriculture; to preside over their feed time and their harvest, to fix the precise period when they are to take place; in short, to stimulate the negligence, or encourage the zeal of the labourers, and particularly to maintain the spirit of the establishment and a good understanding among them. Being desirous of going to Machoure, to spend a day with the baron de Steinheil, I left M. Kasloff at Milkoff, and set out twenty four hours before him, that I might occasion no delay in his journey. To travel with the greater expedition I made use of a small sledge. The roads were no better or less obstructed with snow than what we had before experienced, and I was therefore unable to make the speed I intended, notwithstanding my precaution. The first village I came to was Kirgan. Before I reached it, I passed a number of houses and balagans that appeared to be deserted, but I was informed that the summer regularly brought back every year their proprietors. The few habitations which compose the ostrog of Kirgan, are built upon the border of a river called Kirganik, which is formed by a variety of streams that issue from then neighbouring mountains, and unite above the ostrog, fifteen wersts from Milkoff. The cold was so severe, that notwithstanding the precaution I took of covering my face with a handkerchief, my cheeks were frozen in less than half an hour. I had recourse to the usual remedy, that of rubbing my face with snow, and was relieved at the expence of an acute pain that continued for several days. Though my face was thus frozen, the rest of my body experienced the contrary effect. I conducted my own sledge; and the continual motion which this exercise requires, added to the weight of my Kamtschadale dress, threw me into a violent perspiration, and fatigued me extremely. My dress merits a particular description; by which it will be seen that it gave me no very alert appearance. Commonly I wore merely a simple parque of deers skin, and a fur cap, which upon occasion would cover my ears and part of my cheeks. When the cold was more piercing, I added to my dress two kouklanki, a kind of parque that was larger and made of thicker skin; one of them had the hair on the inside, and the other on the outside. In the severest weather, I put on over all this, another kouklanki, still thicker, made of argali, or dogs skin, the hairy side of which is always undermost, and the leather or external surface of the skin painted red. To these kouklankis a small bib is fixed before, so as to guard the face against the wind: they have also hoods behind, which fall upon the shoulders. Sometimes these three hoods, one upon another, composed my head dress, by being drawn over my common cap. My neck was defended by a cravat called ocheinik, made of sable, or the tail of a fox, and my chin with a chincloth made in like manner of sable, and fastened upon my head. As the forehead is very susceptible of cold, it was covered with an otter or sable fillet, and this was covered again by my cap. My fur breeches gave me more warmth than all the rest of my dress, complicated as it was. I had double deerskin spatterdashes, with hair on both sides, and which are called in Kamtschatka tchigi. I then put my legs into boots made of deers skins, the feet having an interior sole of tounchitcha, a very soft grass, which has the quality of preserving heat, Notwithstanding these precautions, my feet, after travelling two or three hours, were very wet, either from perspiration or the gradual penetration of the snow; and if I stood still for a moment in my sledge, they be came immediately frozen. At night I took off these spatterdashes, and put on a large pair of fur stockings made of deer or argali skin, and called ounti. Notwithstanding my fatigue, I made no stop at Kirgan. A few wersts farther on, I perceived a volcano to the north, which emitted no flame, but a column of very thick smoke ascended from it. I shall have occasion to return this way, and will then speak of it more at large. I observed near Machoure a wood of firs, tolerably bushy, and which was the first I had seen in Kamtschatka. The trees were strait, but very slender. At two o'clock in the afternoon I entered the village of Machoure, which is upon the Kamtschatka, and thirtyseven wersts from Kirgan. I alighted at the baron Stenheil's, formerly capitan ispravnick, or inspector of Kamtschatka, an office afterwards conferred on M. Schmaleff. Our acquaintance had commenced at Bolcheretsk. I was delighted to be able to converse with him in several languages, particularly that of my own country, though it was not very familiar to him; but it was French, and I conceived him to be my countryman. Whoever has quitted Europe to travel in so distant a part of the world must have had similar feelings. We consider every man as a fellowcitizen who belongs to the same continent, or speaks the same language. The most trivial circumstance that reminds us of our country, is productive of a very sensible pleasure; the heart is eagerly drawn towards the friend, the brother, whom we conceive we have found, and feels an instant desire to repose in him all its confidence. The sight of M. Steinheil imparted to me this delicious sensation. There was in his conversation, from the very first moment, an irresistible attraction. I felt a sort of craving to see him, to talk with him; it had the effect of a charm, though his French, as I have said, was not the most pure, and was pronounced with the German accent. I spent the day of 4 February with the baron, and in the evening M. Kasloff arrived as he had previously informed me. The ostrog of Machoure, before the introduction of the smallpox, was one of the most considerable in the peninsula; but the ravages of this cruel disease, have reduced the number of inhabitants to twenty families. All the Kamtschadales of this village, men and women, are chamans, or believers in the witchcraft of these pretended sorcerers. They dread to an excess the popes or Russian priests, for whom they entertain the most inveterate hatred. They do all they can to avoid meeting them. This is sometimes impossible, and in that case, when they find them at hand they act the hypocrite, and make their escape the first opportunity that offers. I attribute this fear to the ardent zeal which these priests have doubtless shown for the extirpation of idolatry, and which the Kamtschadales consider as persecution. They accordingly look upon them as their greatest enemies. Perhaps they have reason to believe, that in wishing to convert them, the overthrow of their idols was not the only thing these missionaries had in view. These popes probably set them no example of the virtues upon which they declaim. It is suspected that their object is the acquisition of wealth, rather than of proselytes, and the gratification of their inordinate propensity to drunkenness. It is not therefore to be wondered at that the inhabitants retain their ancient errors. They pay a secret homage to their god Koutka69, and place in him so entire a confidence, that they address their prayers exclusively to him when they are desirous of obtaining any boon, or of engaging in any enterprise. When they go to the chace, they abstain from washing themselves, and are careful not to make the sign of the cross: they invoke their Koutka, and the first animal they catch is immediately sacrificed to him. After this act of devotion they conceive that their chace will be successful; on the contrary, if they were to cross themselves, they would despair of catching any thing. It is also a part of their superstition to consecrate to Koutka their newborn children, who, the moment they have left their cradle, are destined to become chamans. The veneration of the inhabitants of this village for sorcerers can scarcely be conceived; it approaches to insanity, and is really to be pitied; for the extravagant and wild absurdities by which these magicians keep alive the credulity of their compatriots, excites our indignation rather than our laughter. At present they do not profess their art openly, or give the same splendour they once did to their necromancy. They no longer decorate their garments with mystic rings and other symbolic figures of metal, that jingled together upon the slightest motion of their body. In like manner they have abandoned the kind of kettle70, which they used to strike with a sort of musical intonation in their pretended enchantments, and with which they announced their approach. In short, they have forsaken all their magic instruments. The following are the ceremonies they observe in their assemblies, which they are careful to hold in secret, though not the less frequently on that account. Conceive of a circle of spectators, stupidly rapt in attention and ranged round the magician, male or female, for as I have before observed, the women are equally initiated into the mysteries. All at once he begins to sing, or to utter shrill sounds without either measure or signification. The docile assembly strike in with him, and the concert becomes a medley of harsh and insupportable discords. By degrees the chaman is warmed, and he begins to dance to the confused accents of his auditory, who become hoarse and exhausted from the violence of their exertions. As the prophetic spirit is excited in the minister of their Koutka, the animation of the dance increases. Like the Pythian on the tripos, he rolls his ghastly and haggard eyes; all his motions are convulsive; his mouth is drawn awry, his limbs stiffened, and every distortion and grimace is put in practice by him, to the great admiration of his disciples. Having acted these buffooneries for some time, he suddenly stops, as if inspired, and becomes now as composed as he was before agitated. It is the sacred collectedness of a man full of the god that governs him, and who is about to speak by his voice. Surprised and trembling, the assembly is instantly mute, in expectation of the marvels that are to be revealed. The selfcreated prophet then utters at different intervals, broken sentences, words without meaning, and what ever nonsense comes into the head of the impostor; and this is invariably considered as the effect of inspiration. His jargon is accompanied either with a torrent of tears or loud bursts of laughter, according to the complexion of the tidings he has to announce; and the expression and gesture of the orator vary in conformity to his feelings. I was furnished with this account by persons entitled to credit, and who had contrived to be present at these absurd revelations. There seems to be some analogy between these chamans, and the sect called quakers. The quakers pretend equally to inspiration, and there are individuals among them, who, guided by its supposed impulse, hold forth in their silent meetings, and break out in piteous lamentations, or sudden starts of extravagant joy. The difference is this: these prompt orators harangue extempore upon the subject of morality, whose fundamental principles they endeavour to recommend; whereas the Kamtschadale declaimers understand not a word of what they utter, and only make use of their mysterious and hypocritical jargon to increase the idolatry of their stupid admirers. At Machoure the intelligence which M. Kasloff had before received from Bogenoff, an engineer, was confirmed. He had been sent along the river Pengina to fix upon a situation for a town, and trace the plan of it, with directions to proceed afterwards by the western coast of Kamtschatka as far as Tiguil, and make an exact map of the country as he passed. On his arrival at Kaminoi71, he told M. Kasloff that he had met a considerable number of revolted Koriacs, who came out to intercept his passage, and prevent him from executing his mission. It was now added to the account, that they amounted to a body of six hundred men, and that we should not probably be permitted to advance. This was melancholy news, for me particularly, who longed to arrive at Okotsk, as if it had been the end of my journey, or as if I could thence reach France in a single day. How distressing the thought, that there was no other way but through this village, and that I should perhaps be obliged to turn back! My impatience made me shudder at the very idea. M. Kasloff participated my feelings, and was of opinion with me that the report ought not to stop us. It might not be accurate; the narrators might have given it an air of importance, to which it was not entitled; their fears might have magnified it; and each perhaps had made some addition to the story. These considerations led us to doubt, and we resolved to satisfy ourselves in person of its truth, thinking it time enough to have recourse to expedients if the rebels were actually to oppose our passage. We were presently encouraged by the arrival of an express to M. Kasloff, who had met with no interruption, and who assured us that every thing had the appearance of perfect tranquillity. At break of day I took leave of the baron de Steinheil, with equal regret and gratitude for his kind reception, and the attentions he had paid me during my short visit. His information and accomplishments rendered him a truly interesting character72. We travelled this day sixtysix wersts upon the Kamtschatka, the ice of which was very firm and perfectly smooth. I saw nothing remarkable in my way, nor in the village of Chapina, where we arrived at sunset. We set off early the next morning, and found the snow very troublesome. It was so thick upon the ground, that we were scarcely able to go on. We journeyed all the day though very thick woods of fir and birch trees. About halfway, and again farther on, we met two rivers, one of which was very small, and the other sixty yards wide; it is called the great Nikoulka. They are both formed by streams issuing from the mountains, and uniting at this place to pay their tribute together to the Kamtschatka. Neither of them was frozen, which I ascribed to the extreme rapidity of their current. The spot where we passed them was truly picturesque; but the most singular object was the numerous firs that skirted these rivers, and which seemed like so many trees of ice. A thick hoarfrost, occasioned perhaps by the dampness of the place, covered every branch, and gave to the whole a bright and chrystalline appearance. At some distance from Tolbatchina we crossed a heath, from which I could perceive three volcanos; none of them threw up any flames, but merely clouds of very black smoke. The first, which I before mentioned in going to Machoure, has its reservoir in the bowels of a mountain that is not exactly of a conical shape, the summit being flattened and but little elevated. This volcano, I was informed, had been at rest for some time, and was supposed to be extinguished, but it had lately kindled again. Northeast of this is a peak, the top of which appears to be the crater of a second volcano, which continually throws up smoke, though I could not perceive the smallest spark of fire. The third is northnortheast of the second; I could not observe it as I wished, a high mountain intercepting almost entirely my view. It derives its name from the village of Klutchefskaa, near which it is situated; and I was told that we should pass closer to it hereafter. The two other volcanos are called in like manner after the ostrog of Tolbatchina, where we arrived in good time. This village is upon the Kamtschatka, fortyfour wersts from Chapina, but it contains nothing extraordinary. We were informed that there had been a Kamtschadale wedding in the morning. I regretted the not having been present at this ceremony, which, as I was told, is nearly the same as in Russia. I saw the new married couple, who appeared to be two children. I asked their age. The bridegroom was but fourteen, and the bride only eleven. Such marriages would be considered as premature in any country except Asia. I had an extreme desire to see the town of NijeneiKamtschatka, and had long thought how to satisfy it; to have left the peninsula without visiting the capital, I should have considered as an unpardonable fault. My curiosity did not interfere with my resolution of travelling with all possible expedition. I was obliged indeed to make a circuit, but it was not so far as to occasion a delay of any consequence. Having concerted with M. Kasloff, who was anxious to procure every thing that could render my journey agreeable and safe, I engaged to join him at the village of Yelofki, where the arrangement of some affairs of his government would detain him several days. That I might lose less time, I took leave of him the evening of our arrival at Tolbatchina. But the roads were still worse than any we had yet met with. It was with the utmost difficulty I could reach Kosirefski by break of day, a village sixtysix wersts from Tolbatchina. I made no stay, elated with having happily escaped all the dangers that beset me in so terrible a road, and in the darkness of the night73. I conceived that I had nothing to fear in the day, and proceeded with a kind of confidence for which I was soon punished. After having travelled a considerable number of wersts upon the Kamtschatka, which I had been delighted to find again, and the width of which in this place particularly struck me, I was obliged to quit it and enter a sort of strait, where the snow, driven by the hurricanes, presented an uneven and deceitful surface. It was impossible to see or avoid the rocks that surrounded me. I presently heard a crack that told me my sledge was damaged; it was in reality one of my skates broken in two. My guides assisted me in adjusting it in the best manner we could, and we had the good fortune to reach Ouchkoff without any other accident. It was midnight, and we travelled this day sixtysix wersts. My first care was to refit my sledge, which detained me till the next day. There are in this village one isba, and eleven balagans; the number of inhabitants is reduced to five families, who are divided into three yourts. In the neighbourhood is a lake which abounds so much with fish, that all the villages round resort to it for their winter stock. It is also a considerable resource for the capital, which would otherwise be almost destitute of a provision of the first necessity throughout the peninsula. I left Ouchkoff early in the morning, and at noon had travelled fortyfour wersts, partly upon the Kamtschatka, and partly across extensive heaths. The first village I came to was Krestoff. It was a little larger than the preceding ostrog, but similar in other respects to what I had before seen. I only stayed to change my dogs. Hitherto I had pursued the road which M. Kasloff was to take to get to Yelofki; but instead of proceeding like him to Khartchina, I directed my course, upon coming out of Krestoff, towards the village of Klutchefskaa, which is thirty wersts from it. The weather, which, since our departure from Apatchin, had been very fine, though cold, changed all of a sudden in the afternoon. The sky became clouded, and the wind, which rose in the west, brought us a heavy snow. It extremely incommoded us, and prevented me from examining as I could have wished, the volcano of Klutchefskaa, which I had seen at the same time with those of Tolbatchina. As far as I could judge, the mountain that carries it in its womb, is considerably higher than the other two. It continually throws up flames, which seem to ascend from the midst of the snow, with which the mountain is covered to its very summit. Upon the approach of night I came to the village of Klutchefskaa. The inhabitants are all Siberian peasants, from the neighbourhood of the Lena, and were sent about fifty years ago into this part of the peninsula to cultivate the land. The number of males, including men and children, scarcely exceed fifty. The smallpox attacked only those who had not before been affected with it; but it carried off more than one half of them. These labourers are less happy than those who live in the neighbourhood of VerckneiKamtschatka. The quantity and quality of their last harvest, both rye and barley, exceeded their hopes. These peasants have many horses belonging to them; in the mean time there are some which are the property of government. This ostrog is tolerably large, and appears the more so from being divided into two parts, about four hundred yards from each other. It extends principally from east to west. To the eastward is situated the church, which is built of wood, and in the Russian taste. The majority of houses are better constructed, and are more clean, than any I have yet seen. There are also some considerable magazines. The number of balagans is small, and they are very unlike those of the Kamtschadales; their form is oblong, and their roof, which has the same declivity as ours, rests upon posts, which support it in the air. The Kamtschatka passes at the bottom of the ostrog; it is never entirely frozen in this part. In summer it frequently overflows and enters the very houses, though they are all of them built upon an eminence. Four wersts east of the church of Klutchefskaa, is another zaimka, or little hamlet, inhabited by Cossacs or labouring soldiers, whose harvests belong to government: but I cannot get out of my way to examine it. I made a very short stay at Klutchefskaa, my impatience to see Nijenei inducing me to leave it the same evening in order to reach Kamini, a Kamtschadale village, twenty wersts farther. I arrived at midnight, but merely passed through it. Before day I was at Kamokoff, twenty wersts from Kamini. I soon arrived at Tchokofskoi, or Tchoka, which is twentytwo wersts farther. From thence to Nijenei, the distance is the same, and I travelled it equally in a few hours. I had the pleasure of entering a little before noon into this capital of Kamtschatka, which is seen at a considerable distance, but its appearance is neither striking nor agreeable. It presents to our view merely a cluster of houses, with three steeples rising above them, and is situated upon the border of the Kamtschatka, in a bason formed by a chain of mountains that raise their lofty heads around it, but which are however at a tolerable distance. Such is the position of the town of Nijenei, of which I had a higher opinion before I saw it. The houses, amounting to about a hundred and fifty, are of wood, built in a very bad taste, small, and buried beside under the snow, which the hurricanes collect there. These hurricanes prevail almost continually in this quarter, and have only ceased within a few days. There are two churches at Nijenei, one is in the town, and has two steeples; the other belongs to, and is in the circuit of the fort. These two buildings are wretchedly constructed. The fort is almost in the middle of the town, and is a large palisaded enclosure of a square form. Besides the church, the enclosure contains also the magazines, the arsenal, and the guardhouse: a sentinel is stationed at the entrance both day and night. The house of the governor, major Orleankoff, is near the fortress, and, its size excepted, is similar to the rest of the houses; it is neither higher, nor built in a better taste. I alighted at the house of an unfortunate exile, named Snafidoff, who had suffered the same punishment as Ivaschkin, nearly at the same time, but for different causes: like Ivaschkin, he had been banished to Kamtschatka ever since the year 1744. I had scarcely entered, when an officer from M. Orleankoff came to congratulate me upon my happy arrival. He was followed by many of the principal officers of the town, who came one after another in the most obliging manner to offer me their services. I expressed a becoming sense of their civilities, but was mortified at their having taken me by surprise. As soon as I was dressed, I hastened to return my thanks to each of them separately. I began with major Orleankoff, whom I found busily preparing for an entertainment that he was to give the next day, upon the marriage of a Pole in the Russian service, with the niece of the protapope, or chief priest. He had not only the politeness to invite me to the wedding, but came to me in the morning, and conducted me to his house, that I might lose no part of this spectacle, which he rightly judged was calculated to interest me. In the mean time what struck me most was the strictness of the ceremonial. The distinction of rank seemed to be observed with the most scrupulous delicacy. The formality, compliments, and cold civilities, which opened the entertainment, gave it a starched air, that promised more dulness than gaiety. The repast was the most sumptuous the country could furnish. Among other dishes there was a variety of soups, accompanied with cold meats, upon which we fed heartily. The second service consisted of roasted dishes and pastry. The dinner had less the appearance of sensuality than profusion. The liquors were the produce of the different fruits of the country, boiled up and mixed with French brandy. But a profusion of the brandy of the country, made from the slatkaatrava, or sweet herb, which I have already noticed, was almost continually served round in preference. This liquor has no disagreeable taste, and is even aromatic; they use it the more readily, as it is less unwholesome than the brandy distilled from corn. The guests by degrees assumed an air of good humour. Their heads were not proof against the fumes of so strong a beverage, and soon the grossest mirth circulated round the table. To this noisy and sumptuous feast a ball succeeded, that was conducted with tolerable regularity. The company were gay, and amused themselves till the evening with Polish and Russian country dances. The festival ended with a splendid firework, that had been prepared by M. Orleankoff, and which he himself let off. It was only a trifling one, but it had a good effect, and left nothing to be desired. I enjoyed the astonishment and extasy of the spectators, who were little accustomed to exhibitions of this nature: it was a subject for a painter. Rapt in admiration, they exclaimed in full chorus at every squib. The regret they expressed at its short duration afforded me equal amusement. It was necessary to attend to the extravagant encomiums that were unanimously bestowed upon them; and on departing, every individual sighed over the remembrance of all the pleasures of the day. The next day I was invited to the house of the protapope, uncle to the bride, where the entertainment was similar to that of the preceding one, except the firework. I have already observed, that the protapope is chief of all the churches in Kamtschatka. The clergy throughout the peninsula are subordinate to him, and he has the decision of all ecclesiastical affairs. His residence is at Nijenei. He is an old man, not entirely deprived of his vigour, with a long white beard which flows down upon his breast and gives him a truly venerable appearance. His conversation is sensible, sprightly, and calculated to gain him the respect and affection of the people. There are two tribunals at Nijenei, one that concerns the governments, and the other takes cognizance of all mercantile disputes. The magistrate who presides in the latter, is a kind of burgomaster, subject to the orders of the gorodnitch, or governor of the town. We have already seen that each of these jurisdictions holds from the tribunal of Okotsk, to the governor of which it is accountable for all its proceedings. But what most interested me at Nijenei, and what I cannot pass over in silence, was my finding there nine Japanese, who had been brought thither in the preceding summer, from the Aleutienne islands, by a Russian vessel employed in the trade of otter skins. One of the Japanese informed me, that he and his companions had embarked in a ship of their own country, with an intention of visiting the more southern Kurilles islands, for the purpose of trading with the inhabitants. They directed their course along the coast, and were at a small distance from it, when they were overtaken by a violent gale, which carried them out to sea, and deprived them of all knowledge where they were. According to his account, which however I did not altogether believe, they beat about in the ocean for near six months without seeing land; of course they must have had a plentiful stock of provisions. At length they discerned the Aleutienne islands, and transported with joy, they determined to make for that coast, without well knowing in what part of the world it was. They accordingly cast anchor near one of the islands, and a small shallop brought them to land. At this place they found certain Russians, who proposed to them to unlade their vessel, and remove it to a place of security; but either from suspicion, or perhaps that they thought the next day would be early enough, the Japanese peremptorily refused. They had soon occasion to repent of their negligence. That very night there arose a strong gale, during which their ship stranded; and as this was not discovered till break of day, they had the utmost difficulty to save a small part of the cargo, and some pieces of the vessel, which had been almost entirely constructed of cedar. The Russians, who had before treated them with civility, now exerted every effort in their power to make these unfortunate people forget their loss. They at length persuaded them to accompany them to Kamtschatka, whither they were bound upon their return. My Japanese added, that they had at first been much more numerous, but that the fatigues of the sea, and afterwards the rigour of the climate, had taken off many of his companions. My informer appeared to have over his eight countrymen a very distinguished superiority; and he informed us that he was himself a merchant, and the rest only sailors under his command. Certain it is, that they entertain for him a singular veneration and friendship. They are penetrated with grief, and shew the greatest uneasiness when he is indisposed, or the least unfavourable accident has befallen him. They regularly send twice a day one of their body to wait upon him. His friendship for them may be said not to be less; not a day passes without his visiting them, and he employs the greatest care that they should be in want of nothing. His name is Kodal: his figure has nothing in it singular, and is even agreeable; his eyes do not project like those of the Chinese; his nose is long, and he has a beard which he frequently shaves. He is about five feet in stature, and is tolerably well made. At first he wore his hair in the Chinese fashion; that is, he had a single lock depending from the middle of his head, the rest of his hair round it being close shaved; but he has lately been persuaded to let it grow, and to tie it after the French fashion. He is extremely apprehensive of cold, and the warmest garments given him are scarcely able to save him from it. Under these he constantly wears the dress of his country: this consists in the first place of one or more long chemises of silk, like our dressing gowns; and over these he wears one of woollen, which seems to imply that this sort of materials is more precious in their estimation than silk. Perhaps however the circumstance arises from some motive of convenience, of which I am ignorant. The sleeves of this garment are long and open; and, in spite of the rigour of the climate, he has constantly his arms and his neck uncovered. They put a handkerchief about his neck when he goes abroad, which he takes off as soon as he enters a house, being, as he says, unable to support it. His superiority over his countrymen was calculated to make him be distinguished; but this circumstance has less weight than the vivacity of his temper and the mildness of his disposition. He lodges and eats at the house of major Orleankoff. The freedom with which he enters the house of the governor and other persons, would among us be thought insolent, or at least rude. He immediately fixes himself as much at his ease as possible, and takes the first chair that offers; he asks for whatever he wants, or helps himself, if it be within his reach. He smokes almost incessantly; his pipe is short, and ornamented with silver; he puts into it a very small quantity of tobacco, which he renews every moment. To this habit he is so much addicted, that it was with difficulty they could persuade him to part with his pipe even at meals. He is possessed of great penetration, and apprehends with admirable readiness every thing you are desirous to communicate. He has much curiosity, and is an accurate observer. I was assured that he kept a minute journal of every thing he saw, and all that happened to him. Indeed the objects and the customs he has an opportunity to observe, have so little resemblance to those of his country, that every thing furnishes him with a subject of remark. Attentive to whatever passes, or is said in his presence, he puts it into writing, for fear of forgetting it. His characters appeared to me considerably to resemble the Chinese, but the form of writing is different, these writing from right to left, and the Japanese from the top of the page to the bottom. He speaks Russian with sufficient ease to make himself understood; you must however be used to his pronunciation to converse with him, as he delivers himself with a volubility that frequently obliges you to miss something he says, or apprehend it in a wrong sense. His repartees are in general sprightly and natural. He employs no concealment or reserve, but tells with the utmost frankness what he thinks of every one. His company is agreeable, and his temper tolerably even, though with a considerable tendency to suspicion. Does he miss any thing? he instantly imagines that it has been stolen from him, and discovers anxiety and disquietude. His sobriety is admirable, and perfectly contrasts with the manners of this country. When he has determined to drink no strong liquor, it is impossible to induce him so much as to taste it; when he is inclined, he asks for it of his own accord, but never drinks to excess. I observed also, that, after the manner of the Chinese, in eating he made use of two little sticks, which he handled with great dexterity. I requested to see some of the coin of his country, and he readily gratified my curiosity. The gold coin was a thin plate of an oval form, and of about two inches in its longest diameter. It is marked with various Japanese characters, and it appeared to be of pure gold, without any alloy, so that it readily bent in any manner you pleased. Their silver money is square, smaller, thinner, and lighter than that of gold; he however assured me that at Japan this was the superior coin. The copper coin is precisely the same as the cache of the Chinese: it is round, and nearly of the size of our two liard pieces, with a square perforation in the middle. I asked him some questions respecting the nature of the merchandize they had saved from their wreck, and I understood, from his answer, that it consisted chiefly in cups, plates, boxes, and other commodities of that sort, with a very fine varnish. I afterwards found they had sold a part of them at Kamtschatka. I trust I shall be forgiven this digression upon these Japanese; I can scarcely imagine that it will be thought impertinent; it will assist us in becoming acquainted with a nation that we have scarcely an opportunity to see and observe. Having spent three days at Nijenei Kamtschatka, I left it 12 February at one o'clock in the afternoon, to meet M. Kasloff, whom I was sure of finding at Yelofki. My road for some time was the same as I had already travelled in going to Nijenei, and I arrived at Tchoka early in the evening. A strong westerly wind almost always prevails in this place. The situation of the ostrog sufficiently accounts for it, which is upon a river that runs between two chains of mountains that stretch along its banks to the distance of twenty five wersts. I passed the night at Kamokoff, and the next morning I arrived in a few hours at the ostrog of Kamini, or Peter's town, where I took the road to Kartchina. In my way I passed three lakes, the last of which was very large, and not less than five leagues in circumference. I slept at this ostrog, which is forty wersts from the preceding one, and situated upon the river Kartchina74. I set off as soon as it was light, and notwithstanding the bad weather, which lasted all the day, I travelled seventy wersts, which brought me to Yelofki. It is upon a river of the same name, and surrounded with mountains. M. Kasloff was astonished at my expedition. I had vainly flattered myself, that the moment of our meeting would be that of our departure; but his business was not yet finished, and we were obliged to prolong our stay: he hoped also that M. Schmaleff would soon arrive. We had calculated that he would meet us at this ostrog. This expectation, which was fruitless, and the affairs of M. Kasloff, detained us five days longer. At length he complied with my impatience, and agreed to set off the 19, very early in the morning. We travelled fifty four wersts gently enough; but in the afternoon we were suddenly overtaken by a terrible tempest from the west and northwest. We were in an open country, and the whirlwinds became so violent, that it was impossible to proceed. The snow, which they raised in the air at every blast, formed a thick fog, and our guides, notwithstanding their knowledge of the roads, could no longer be answerable for not misleading us. We could not prevail on them to conduct us any farther: and yet it was dreadful to lie to at the mercy of so impetuous a hurricane. As to myself, I confess that I began to suffer extremely, when our guides proposed to lead us to a wood that was not far off, and where we should at least find some kind of shelter. We hesitated not a moment to avail ourselves of their civility; but before we quitted the road, it was necessary to wait till our sledges could be assembled, or we should otherwise run the risk of being separated from one another, and entirely lost. Having effected this, we gained the wood, which was happily at the distance that we had been informed. Our halt took place about two o'clock in the afternoon. The first care of our Kamtschadales was to dig a hole in the snow, which was in this place at least six feet deep; others fetched wood, and a fire being quickly lighted, the kettle was set on. A light repast, and a small dram of brandy, soon recovered all our company. As the night approached, we were employed upon the means of passing it in the least uncomfortable manner. Each prepared his own bed: mine was my vezock, where I could lie down at my ease; but except M. Kasloff, there was no other person who had so convenient a carriage. How, said I to myself, will these poor creatures contrive to sleep? I was soon relieved from my anxiety on their account. The manner in which they prepared their beds, deserves to be mentioned, though they did not observe much ceremony on the occasion. Having dug a hole in the snow, they covered it with the branches of trees, the smallest they could get; then wrapping themselves up in a kouklanki, with the hood drawn over their heads, they lay down on their bed as if it were the best in the world. As to our dogs, they were unharnessed, and tied to the trees that were near us, where they passed the night in their usual manner. The wind having considerably abated, we proceeded on our journey before it was light. We had thirty wersts to Ozernoi, where it had been our intention to have slept the preceding evening. We arrived at ten o'clock in the morning, but our dogs being extremely fatigued, we were obliged to spend the rest of the day, and even the night there, in hopes that the wind, which began to blow still more violently in the afternoon, would subside during the interval. The ostrog takes its name from a lake that is near it. The river Ozernaa, which is but small, runs at the bottom of the village. The house of the toyon was the only isba I saw, and I was informed that we should meet with no more of these kind of buildings till we came to the town of Ingiga. There were, however, fifteen balagans and two yourts. I might here describe these subterraneous habitations; but as they are small in comparison with those which I shall soon have an opportunity of examining, I shall defer my description for the present. We passed also the 21 February at Ozernoi, in fruitless expectation of a serjeant of M. Kasloff's suite, who had been sent to NijeneiKamtschatka. The next day we reached Ouk at a tolerably early hour, which is only twenty six wersts. There we waited again for the serjeant, who had been ordered to join us at this place, But he did not come. There is but one isba at Ouk, which, together with a dozen balagans and two yourts, form the whole ostrog. One of the yourts had been cleaned for M. Kasloff, and we passed the night in it. We left this village at break of day, and half way on our journey we saw a certain number of balagans, which are only inhabited, I was informed, in the fishing season. Near this place we met the sea again, and travelled on the shore for some time. I was extremely mortified at not being able to see at what distance it was frozen, nor what was the direction of this part of the eastern coast of Kamtschatka. A north wind incommoded us, and impelled the snow with such violence against us, that our whole attention was engrossed by guarding our eyes from it; there was also a fog that extended from the shore to a considerable distance on the sea, and intercepted almost entirely the view of it. The inhabitants of the country, whom I interrogated upon the subject, informed me we had just passed a bay of no very considerable width, and that the sea was covered with ice as far as thirty wersts from the land. At Khaluli, an ostrog, situated upon a river of the same name, sixty six wersts from Ouk, and at a short distance from the sea, I found but two yourts and twelve or thirteen balagans; but I had the pleasure of seeing a baidar covered with leather. This boat was about fifteen feet long and four wide; the hull was made of planks tolerably thin, and crossing each other; a longer and thicker piece of wood served as the keel; the timbers were made fast with leathern straps; and the whole was covered over with several skins of sea horses and large sea wolves. I particularly admired the manner in which these skins were prepared, and the compactness with which they were sewn together, so that the water could not penetrate into the boat. Its shape was somewhat similar to ours, but less round, and therefore less graceful; it converged towards the extremities, so as to terminate in a point, and had a flat bottom. The lightness of the common baidars, which makes them liable to be overturned, doubtless gave rise to this mode of constructing them, by which they acquire more weight. This boat was placed under a shed built on purpose to protect it from the snow. The toyon of Khaluli having given up his yourt to us, we slept in it, being unable to proceed till the next day. The wind had increased since our arrival, and did not abate till the middle of the night. At ten o'clock in the morning we had lost sight of Khaluli, and passed an old village of the same name, which had been lately deserted on account of its bad situation. Farther on we found some more desolated habitations, formerly the ostrog of Ivaschkin, and which had been removed, for a similar reason, thirty wersts from its former situation. We came again to the sea, and travelled for some time on the eastern coast. It forms another bay at this place, which I was desirous of examining, but was, as before, prevented by the fog. I observed that the fog cleared up in proportion as the wind veered to the northeast, which had hitherto been west and northwest. Ivaschkin is forty wersts from Khaluli, and very near to the sea. It contains two yourts and six balagans, and is situated upon a small river of the same name, which was entirely frozen, as was also one that we had just passed. We slept at this village, and spent a considerable part of the next day there, from the apprehension of a hurricane, which, it was said, threatened us. We were at last relieved from our fears, and though it was tolerably late when we resolved to proceed, we reached Drannki, which is thirty wersts. The situation of this ostrog is similar to the preceding one. Here we found M. Haus, a Russian officer: he came from Tiguil, and brought M. Kasloff various objects of natural history. We left Drannki at break of day. In the afternoon we crossed a bay that was fifteen wersts wide, and from twentyfive to thirty deep; the entrance was scarcely less than five wersts: it is formed by the south coast. This coast is low land, gradually declining as it advances into the sea. The bay runs westnorthwest and eastsoutheast. It appeared to me that westnorthwest of its entrance, towards Karagui, vessels may safely anchor, and be sheltered from the south, the west, and the north winds. The south of its entrance does not afford so good a harbour, as it is said to have various sand banks; I was obliged to trust to report, the ice and the snow preventing me from obtaining any better information. We travelled this day seventy wersts, and came in the evening to Karagui, which is upon an eminence, and affords a view of the sea. It has only three yourts and twelve balagans, at the foot of which the river Karaga passes. This river pours itself into the sea at the distance of a few gun shots from the ostrog, which is the last in the district of Kamtschatka; a hamlet a hundred wersts farther, and containing but few Kamtschadales, not being included within its limits. As we were obliged to wait here for a stock of dried fish, not yet come up, and intended for the nourishment of our dogs in the deserts, which we are now to traverse, I shall embrace this opportunity of transcribing various notes made in this and the preceding villages. They will not be placed in the same order as they were written; it must be supposed that the rapidity with which we travelled, frequently left me no choice in this respect75. I shall first speak of the yourts, which I have not yet described, deserving as they are of particular attention. These strange houses are sunk in the earth, as I before observed, and the top, which appears above ground, is like a truncated cone. To form a just idea of them, we must conceive of a large square hole about twelve or fourteen yards in diameter, and eight feet deep; the four sides are lined with joists or boards, and the interstices of these walls are filled up with earth, straw, or dried grass, and stones. In the bottom of this hole various posts are fixed, that support the cross beams upon which the roof rests. The roof begins upon a level with the ground, and rises four feet above it; it is two feet thick, has a very gradual slope, and is made of the same materials as the walls. Towards the top is a square opening, about four feet long and three wide, which serves as a passage for the smoke76 and an entrance to the yourt, where the women as well as the men go in and out by means of a ladder, or notched beam, that is raised to a level with this opening. There is another very low entrance in one side of the yourt, but it is considered as a kind of disgrace to make use of it. I shall terminate the description of the exterior part of these habitations by adding, that they are surrounded with tolerably high palisades, doubtless as a protection against the gales of wind, or falls of snow; it is said, however, that these enclosures formerly served as ramparts to defend these people against their enemies. We have no sooner descended these savage abodes, than we wish ourselves out again; the view and the smell are equally offensive. The interior part consists of one entire room, about ten feet high. A bench, five feet wide, and covered with various skins, half worn out, extends all round it. This bench is only a foot from the ground77, and commonly serves as a bed for a number of families. I have counted in one yourt more than twenty persons, men, women, and children. They eat, drink, and sleep pell mell together, satisfy all the calls of nature without restraint or modesty, and never complain of the noxious air that prevails in these places. It is true there is a fire almost incessantly. The fireplace is commonly either in the middle of the yourt or against one of the sides. In the evening they rake the coals in a heap, and shut the entrance of the yourt, where the smoke should evaporate; and thus the heat is concentrated, and kept up during the whole night. By means of a dismal lamp, the form and disagreeable smell of which I have before described, we discover in one corner of the apartment78 a wretched image of some saint, shining with grease and blackened with smoke. It is before these images that the Kamtschadales bow themselves, and offer their prayers. The rest of the furniture consists of seats and some vessels, made either of wood, or the bark of trees. Their cookery utensils are of copper or iron; but they are all disgustingly filthy. The remains of their dried fish are scattered about the room, and the women or the children are continually broiling pieces of salmon skin, which is one of their favourite meats. The singularity of the children's dress particularly attracted my attention; it is said exactly to referable that of the Koriacs. It consists of only one garment, that is, of a single deer skin, that covers and sits close to every part of the body, so that the children seem to be entirely sewed up. An opening at the bottom, before and behind, affords an opportunity of cleaning them. This opening is covered with another piece of skin, which may be fastened and lifted up at pleasure; it supports a tuft of moss79, placed like a clout between the legs of the child, and which is renewed as often as it becomes necessary. Besides the common sleeves, there are two others hanging to the garment to place the arms of the child in when it is cold; the extremities are sewed up, and the sleeves lined on the inside with moss. There is also a hood fitted to it, made of the same materials as the rest of the dress; but in yourts the heads of the children are almost always bare, and the hood hangs therefore upon their shoulders. Beside all this, they have a deer skin girt, which serves as a sash. The women carry their children on their back by means of a string, which passes round the forehead of the mother and under the buttocks of the child. The toyon of Karagui, at whose house we lodged, was an old rebel. It was with some difficulty he had been brought back to his duty, and he gave us some uneasiness by his positive refusal to procure us fish. The manners of the inhabitants of this ostrog are very similar to those of the neighbouring Koriacs. This analogy is as conspicuous in their idiom as in the dress of their children. I had an opportunity of remarking it the day after our arrival. Understanding that there were two hordes of rein deer Koriacs at no great distance, we sent immediately a messenger to them to request that they would sell us some of their animals. They readily complied, and brought us the same day two rein deer alive. This supply came very seasonably to the relief of our people, who began to apprehend a want of provisions. Meanwhile our dogs were in still greater danger of famine, as the dried fish was not yet arrived. A rein deer was ordered to be killed directly; but when we were desirous of knowing the price of it, we found very considerable difficulty in being able to treat with the sellers: they spoke neither Russian nor Kamtschadale; and we should never have understood one another, if we had not fortunately met with an inhabitant of Karagui, who could serve as an interpreter. There are two sorts of Koriacs; those who are properly called by that name have a fixed residence; the others are wanderers, and are known by the appellation of rein deer Koriacs80. Their flocks are very numerous, and they maintain them by conducting them to those cantons that abound with moss. When these pastures are exhausted, they seek for others. In this manner they wander about incessantly, encamping under tents of skin, and supporting themselves with the produce of their deer. These animals are as serviceable for draught to the Koriacs, as the dogs are to the Kamtschadales. The persons who came to us were drawn by two rein deer. The mode of harnessing and guiding them, as as well as the form of the sledge, ought to be described; but I think it better to defer my description till I come to travel with these people, as I shall be able to be more accurate. Our long expected provisions arrived at last on the evening of 29, and were brought by the sergeant whom we had waited for. We prepared every thing for our departure the next morning, but a most impetuous wind rose in the night from the west and the northwest. This hurricane was accompanied with snow, which fell in such abundance that we were obliged to prolong our stay. Nothing short of this bad weather could have detained us. The arrival of our provision had increased our impatience; the supply beside was not considerable, and our necessities were so urgent that we were obliged to begin upon it immediately. It was therefore our interest to be as expeditious as possible, lest our stock should be consumed before we had passed the deserts. The wind abated in the course of the morning, but the snow continued, and the sky seemed to threaten us with a second tempest before the end of the day. It began to rise about two o'clock in the afternoon, and lasted till the evening. To divert our attention, it was proposed to us to try the abilities of a celebrated female dancer, who was a Kamtschadale, and lived in this ostrog. The encomiums bestowed upon her excited our curiosity, and we sent for her; but either from caprice or ill humour she refused to dance, and paid no regard to our invitation. It was in vain they represented that her refusal was disrespectful to the governor general; no consideration could induce her to comply. Fortunately we had some brandy by us, and a bumper or two seemed to effect a change in her inclinations. At the same time Kamtschadale, at our request, began to dance before her, challenging her by his voice and gestures. Gradually her eyes sparkled, her countenance became convulsive, and her whole frame shook upon the bench where she sat. To the enticements and shrill song of the dancer, she answered in similar accents, beating time with her head, which turned in every direction. The movements became at last so rapid, that, no longer able to contain herself, she darted from her seat, and in turn defied her man by cries and distortions still more extravagant. It is not easy to express the absurdity of the dance. All her limbs seemed to be disjointed; she moved them with equal strength and agility; she tore her cloaths, and fixed her hands to her bosom with a kind of rage as if she would tear it also. These singular transports were accompanied with still more singular postures; and in short, it was no longer a woman, but a fury. In her blind frenzy she would have rushed into the fire that was kindled in the middle of the room, if her husband had not taken the precaution of placing a bench before it to prevent her: during the whole dance indeed he took care to keep himself close to her. When he saw that her head was perfectly gone, that she staggered on all sides, and could no longer support herself without laying hold of her fellow dancer, he took her in his arms and placed her upon a bench, where she fell, like an inanimate clod, without consciousness, and out of breath. She continued five minutes in this situation. Meanwhile the Kamtschadale, proud of his triumph, continued to dance and to sing. Recovering from her swoon, the woman heard him, and suddenly, in spite of her weakness, she raised herself up, uttered some inarticulate sounds, and would have begun again this laborious contest. Her husband kept her back and interceded for her; but the conqueror, believing himself to be indefatigable, continued his jeers and bantering, and we were obliged to exert our authority to quiet him. In spite of the praises that were lavished upon the talents of these actors, the scene, I confess, afforded me no amusement, but on the contrary, considerable disgust. All the inhabitants of this place, women as well as men, smoke and chew tobacco. By a refinement that I cannot account for, they mix ashes with the tobacco to make it stronger. We gave them some snuff, and they applied it not to their nose, but to their mouth. I examined their pipes: they are of the same shape as those of the Chinese, made of bone, and very small. When they make use of them, they do not emit the smoke from their mouth, but swallow it with great gratification. All the toyons of the different ostrogs we had passed in coming from Ozernoi, out of respect to M. Kasloff, had escorted us as far as Karagui. The second day after our arrival, they had taken their leave of us to return to their respective habitations. Their adieux were affectionate. After making new apologies for not having been able to give him a better reception in the course of his journey, they showed the utmost regret at leaving him, as if he had been surrounded by the most imminent dangers, and offered him whatever they possessed, ignorant of any other way of testifying their attachment. They addressed themselves in like manner to me, and solicited me with earnestness to receive something from them. It was useless to make objections; my refusals only rendered them the more urgent, and to satisfy them I was obliged to accept their presents. Let me be permitted in this place to perform a duty which I owe to the Kamtschadales in general, for the civility with which they treated me. I have already mentioned their mild and hospitable character, but I have not been sufficiently minute respecting the instances of regard which these good people gave me, and I recall with pleasure the remembrance of their kind reception. There was not, I believe, an individual chief of any ostrog, that did not make me some trifling present. Sometimes it was a sable or fox skin, and sometimes fruit or fish, and such other objects as they conceived would be most agreeable to me. One would have supposed that they had resolved, by their attentions to me, to repair the injustice which they had so long committed against the French name. They often thanked me for having undeceived them upon the subject; and sometimes again were tempted to regret it, when they considered that they should see me no more, and that it seldom happened that any of my countrymen visited their peninsula. We left Karagui at one o'clock in the morning of 2 March. The weather was tolerably calm, and continued so during the whole day. The only inconvenience we met with, was the not being able to cross, as we had hoped to do, a bay which the tempest of the preceding evening had cleared of its ice: we were obliged to go round it. This bay has considerable depth, is eight or ten wersts wide, and appeared to run in the direction of northeast and southwest. The ice was only broken up as far as the mouth, where it became solid again, and extended into the sea. With the circuit which we were obliged to make, we travelled this day about fifty wersts. Upon the approach of night, we stopped in the open country and erected our tents. Under the largest, belonging to M. Kasloff, were placed his vezock and mine, the door of the one against the door of the other, so that by letting down the windows, we were able to converse together. The other sledges were ranged two abreast round our tents, and the spaces between, being covered with linen or skins, served our guides and our suite as places where they might shelter themselves, and prepare their beds. Such was the disposition of our halt. As soon as our kettle boiled we took tea, and then prepared for our supper, which was our only meal every day. A corporal presided as maitre d'hotel and as cook. The meats which were prepared by him were neither numerous nor delicate, but his quickness and our appetites rendered us indulgent. He commonly served us up a kind of soup made of a biscuit of black bread, and mixed with rice or oatmeal. It was prepared in half an hour, and in the following manner. He took a piece of beef, or flesh of rein deer, and put it into boiling water, having first cut it into very thin slices, which were ready in an instant. The evening previous to our departure from Karagui, we had killed and begun upon our second deer. We regaled ourselves with the marrow: raw or dressed, I thought it excellent. We had the tongue also boiled, and I conceived that I had never eaten any thing more delicious. We pursued our journey early in the morning, but it was impossible to travel more than thirtyfive wersts. The wind had changed to the west and southwest; it blew with extreme violence, and beat the snow in our faces. Our guides suffered extremely, less however than our dogs, some of whom, exhausted with fatigue, died on the road, and others were incapable of drawing us for want of nourishment. We could only give them a fourth part of their common allowance, and had scarcely enough left to last two days. In this extremity we dispatched a soldier to the ostrog of Kaminoi, to procure us succour, and to send the escort to meet us that was to have waited there till M. Kasloff arrived. It was a guard of forty men, sent from Ingiga upon the first intelligence of the revolt of the Koriacs. We were only fifteen wersts from the village or hamlet of Gavenki, where we hoped to find a supply of fish for our dogs; and our confidence was so great that we ventured to give them a double portion, that they might be the better able to convey us thither. Having passed the night in the same manner as the preceding, we pursued our journey at three o'clock in the morning. We quitted not the sea coast till we came to Gavenki, which was about ten o'clock. The name of the village is derived from the word gavna, which signifies excrement; and it is so called on account of its deformity and wretched state. There are in reality but two isbas falling to ruin, and six balagans very ill constructed of bad and crooked wood, which the sea leaves sometimes upon the shore; for there is not a tree in the whole neighbourhood, and nothing to be seen but a few paltry shrubs scattered here and there at a considerable distance from one another. I was not astonished to learn, that not along ago, more than twenty of the inhabitants voluntarily abandoned their country to seek out a better abode. At present the population of this hamlet does not exceed five families, including that of the toyon, and two Kamtschadales from the island of Karagui, who are settled there. No reason was assigned for this removal, and I doubt whether they have gained by the change. We had not been an hour at Gavenki, when a dispute arose between a sergeant of our company, and two peasants of the village, to whom he had applied for wood. They answered bluntly that they would not give him any. From one thing to another the quarrel became violent. The Kamtschadales, little intimidated by the threats of the sergeant, drew their knives81 and fell upon him; but they were immediately disarmed by two of our soldiers. As soon as M. Kasloff was informed of this violence, he ordered that the guilty should be punished as an example. They were brought before the yourt in which we were, and in order to awe the rest of the inhabitants, M. Kasloff went out himself to hasten the punishment. I was left with the toyon, who began to complain to me of the rigour with which his two countrymen were treated. The family surrounded me and murmured still louder. I was alone; meanwhile I was endeavouring to pacify them, when I perceived that the governor had left his arms behind him. I hastily caught up our sabres, upon a motion which the toyon made to go out, and followed him. He had already joined M. Kasloff, and stirring up all his neighbours, he demanded in a high tone that the delinquents should be released. He was himself, he said, their sole judge, and it belonged to him only to punish them. To these seditious clamours M. Kasloff answered only by a stern look, which disconcerted the effrontery both of the peasants and their chiefs. The toyon still muttered some words, but he was seized and forced to assist in the chastisement that he had been so desirous of preventing. One of the culprits was a young man about eighteen years of age, and the other from twenty eight to thirty. They were stripped and laid prostrate on the ground; two soldiers held their hands and their feet, while four others bestowed upon their shoulders a copious distribution of lashes. They were whipped in this manner one after another with rods of dried fir, till their bodies were covered with blood. At the entreaties of the women, whom the weakness of the sex renders every where compassionate, the intended punishment was lessened, and the young man given up to them. They immediately gave him a fine lecture on the folly of his conduct, which they might as well have spared, as he was scarcely in a situation to attend to it, and still less to think of repeating his crime. The severity which M. Kasloff observed upon this occasion, was so much the more necessary, as we began to perceive in this village some symptoms of the contagious turbulent disposition of the Koriacs. Contrasted with the Kamtschadales whom we had just quitted, the manners of the inhabitants of Gavenki led us to doubt whether it were really the same people. We had as much reason to complain of the moroseness and deceit of the latter, as we had to boast of the zeal and kindness of the former. In spite of all our importunities we could get no provision for our dogs. They coldly informed us that they had none; but their equivocal answers betrayed them, and our people soon satisfied themselves of its falsehood. By means of our dogs, whose nose and hunger were infallible guides, they quickly discovered the subterraneous reservoirs, where the inhabitants had, upon our approach, buried their provisions, though the utmost care had been taken to conceal all vestiges of them, by artfully covering them with earth and snow. At the sight of these caves, and the fish that were drawn from them, these peasants began to alledge the most paltry reasons to justify their conduct, and which only tended to increase our indignation. We had some sentiments of humanity, or we should have taken their whole stock; we contented ourselves with a small part. From the nature of the provisions it appeared that these coasts afforded them salmon, herring, cod, morse and other amphibious animals. There is neither spring nor river of any sort in the neighbourhood, but merely a lake that supplies the inhabitants with water. In winter they break the ice that covers it, and carry home large pieces of it, which they place in a trough suspended in the yourt about five or six feet high. The heat is sufficient to dissolve the ice, and to this trough they have recourse when they are thirsty. Near this village is a mountain or kind of Kamtschadale entrenchment, which formerly served them as a place of refuge when they revolted. We staid at Gavenki only twelve or thirteen hours. We set off in the night for Poustaretsk, which is at the distance of more than two hundred wersts from it. We were five days in travelling it, and no journey had ever been so painful. We had no reason to complain of the weather during the first day; but the next we were extremely harassed by the snow and gales of wind, which succeeded without interruption, and with such impetuosity that our conductors were blinded. They could distinguish no object four paces from them, and could not even see the sledge that immediately followed them. To increase our misfortune, our Gavenki guide was old and short sighted, and frequently therefore went out of the road. We were then obliged to stop while he went on before to find the vestiges of the road; but how was it possible to find them in so extensive a plain, covered with snow, and where we could perceive neither tree, nor mountain, nor river? The experience of our guide was continually at fault from the badness of the weather, notwithstanding the incredible knowledge he had of these roads. The smallest rising, the least shrub, was sufficient to set him right; meanwhile we calculated that the deviations he occasioned us amounted each day to twenty wersts. At the end of the second day's journey, my dogs were reduced to a single fish, which I divided between them. The want of food soon exhausted their strength, so as to make them unable to proceed. Some fell under the blows of our conductors, others refused to draw, and many from inanition died on the spot. Of the thirtyseven dogs that were harnessed to my vezock upon leaving Bolcheretsk, only twentythree remained, and these were reduced to the utmost poverty. M. Kasloff had in like manner lost a considerable number of his. The famine became at last so great, that we were apprehensive of being starved to death in this desert. Not having a morsel of fish left for our dogs, we were obliged to feed them with part of our own provisions; but their share was very moderate, prudence requiring us to observe the most rigid oeconomy. In this woeful conjuncture, we left our equipage in the midst of the way, under guard of some of our conductors, and having chosen the most tolerable of the dogs to supply the place of those which we had lost, we went on. Our pain and anxiety continued. We were in want of water. The only little brook that we found was entirely frozen up, and we were obliged to quench our thirst with the snow. The want of wood was another difficulty. Not a tree had we seen during the whole journey, and we frequently went a werst out of our way, perhaps for a paltry shrub not a foot long. We gathered all that we saw, for fear of finding none as we proceeded farther; but they were so small and so few as not to enable us to cook our victuals. To warm ourselves was out of the question. In the mean time the cold was extremely rigorous, and from the slow pace that we travelled, we were nearly frozen. Almost at every instant we were also under the necessity of stopping to unharness the dogs, that expired one after another. I cannot describe what my feelings were in this situation. My mind suffered still more than my body. The inconveniences that were common to us, I patiently shared with my companions; their example and my youth gave me courage to support them. But when I thought of my dispatches, my constancy forsook me. They were continually in my hands, and I never touched them without shuddering. My anxiety to execute my trust, the view of the many obstacles I had to surmount, the uncertainty of succeeding, all these ideas united to torment me. I endeavoured to dispel them; a moment after some new obstacle brought them to my mind with additional force. Upon leaving Gavenki, we had quitted the eastern coast, and the western presented itself to our view two wersts from Pousteretsk. We had crossed therefore the whole width of this part of Kamtschatka, which is not less than two hundred wersts, or fifty leagues. We travelled this extent of country more on foot than in our sledges. Our dogs were so weak, that we were willing to fatigue ourselves in order to relieve them, but they were seldom the more alert on this account. Our conductors could not make them go on without harnessing themselves in like manner to the sledge, and thus assist them to draw us along; we encouraged them also by throwing them a handkerchief folded up in the shape of a fish. They followed this bait, which disappeared the moment they approached near enough to lay hold of it. It was by these contrivances that we were able to pass the mountain that leads to Poustaretsk. From the civil manner in which the women received us, I considered myself as safe the moment I set foot in this hamlet. Six of them came to meet us, exhibiting the most absurd demonstrations of joy. We understood, from some words they spoke, that their husbands were gone to the ostrog of Potkagorno in pursuit of whales. They conducted us to their habitations, singing and skipping about us like so many maniacs. One of them took off her parque, made of the skin of a young deer, and put it upon M. Kasloff; the rest by loud bursts of laughter expressed their satisfaction at our arrival, which they said was unexpected. This was scarcely probable, but we pretended to believe them, in hopes of meeting with the better fare. We entered Poustaretsk 9 March, at three o'clock in the afternoon. Our first precaution was to visit all the reservoirs of fish. How great was our mortification to find them empty! We immediately suspected that the inhabitants had acted in the same manner as those of Gavenki; and we questioned the women, and ransacked every probable place, persuaded that they had concealed their provisions. The more they denied it, the farther we pursued our researches. They were however fruitless, and we could find nothing. During this interval our dogs had been unharnessed in order to be tied up in troops as usual. They were no sooner fastened to the posts, than they fell upon their strings and their harnesses, and devoured them in a moment. It was in vain that we attempted to retain them; the majority escaped into the country, and wandered about consuming whatever their teeth could penetrate. Some died, and became immediately the prey of the rest. They rushed with eagerness upon the dead carcasses, and tore them to pieces. Every limb that any individual seized upon, was contested by a troop of competitors, who attacked it with equal avidity: if he fell under their numbers, he became in turn the object of a new combat82. To the horror of seeing them devour one another, succeeded the melancholy spectacle of those that beset our yourt. The leanness of these poor beasts was truly affecting: they could scarcely stand upon their legs. By their plaintive and incessant cries, they seemed to address themselves to our companion, and to reproach our incapacity to relieve them. Many of them, who suffered as much from cold as from hunger, laid themselves down by the opening made in the roof of the yourt to let out the smoke. The more they felt the benefit of the heat, the nearer they approached; and at last, either from faintness, or inability to preserve an equilibrium, they fell into the fire before our eyes. Shortly after our arrival the guide returned, who had accompanied the soldier sent out six days before to Kaminoi to procure us succour. He informed us that our messenger was reduced to the last extremity, and considered himself as fortunate in having found, twelve wersts to the north of Pousteretsk, a miserable deserted yourt, where he had sheltered himself from the tempests, which had misled him no less than ten times. The provision we had given him for himself and his dogs was all consumed, and he waited impatiently till he should be relieved from his embarassment, without which it was impossible for him to come out of his asylum, either for the purpose of executing his commission, or of returning back to us. M. Kasloff, far from being cast down by this new disappointment, animated our courage by communicating to us the last expedients he had resolved to employ. He had already, upon the intelligence of a whale being driven on shore near Potkagorno, dispatched an express to that village. The utmost expedition was recommended, and he was to bring as much of the flesh and fat of the whale as he could. This resource however being uncertain, M. Kasloff proposed that we should sacrifice the small quantity of provision which each of us had intended to reserve for the support of his own dogs. This contribution was for sergeant Kabechoff, who had offered to go to Kaminoi. In the distress in which we were, the most feeble ray of hope was sufficient to induce us to risk our all. We embraced therefore the proposal with transport, confiding in the zeal and ability of this sergeant. He departed at 10, minutely instructed upon the subject of his journey, and carrying with him the whole of our provisions. In his way he was to take up our poor soldier, and from thence proceed to fulfil the commission in which he had failed. Having taken all these precautions, we exhorted one another to patience, and endeavoured to divert our anxiety by waiting till it should please providence to deliver us. I shall employ this time in giving an account of the observations I made at Poustaretsk. This hamlet is situated upon the declivity of a mountain washed by the sea; for we cannot call a river83, what is nothing more than a very narrow gulf, which reaches as far as the foot of this mountain. The water is salt, and not drinkable; we were obliged therefore to have recourse to melted snow, which was the only fresh water we could procure. Two yourts, inhabited by about fifteen persons, make up the whole hamlet. I mean to include a few balagans that are occupied in summer, and situated farther from the shore. They spend the whole summer in fishing, and preparing their stock of winter provisions. If we may judge from the food that we saw them dress and eat, this part of the country does not much abound with fish. Their aliment during our residence among them consisted only in the flesh and fat of the whale, the bark of trees in its natural state, and in buds steeped in the oil of the whale, or the sea wolf, or in the fat of any other animal. They informed us that they frequently caught small cod in the open sea; I know not whether they had any concealed store of this article, but we had searched so thoroughly, and we saw them fare so wretchedly, that we believed them to be really as poor as they appeared to be. Their mode of catching rein deer, which are very plentiful in these cantons, is equally sure and easy. They surround a certain extent of land with palisades, leaving here and there an opening, where they spread their nets or snares. They then disperse, in order to drive the deer into them. These animals, by attempting to save themselves, run through the openings, and are caught either by the neck or their horns. A considerable number always escape by tearing the nets or leaping the palisades; meanwhile twenty or thirty men will frequently take at a time upwards of sixty deer. Independently of their domestic occupations, the women are employed in preparing, staining, and sewing the skins of various animals, particularly deer skins. They first scrape them with a sharp stone fixed in a stick. Having taken off the fat, they still continue to scrape them to make them thinner and more supple. The only colour they stain them is a deep red, which is extracted from the bark of a tree called in Russia olkhovaadereva, and known to us by the name of alder. They boil the bark, and then rub the skin with it till it has imbibed the die. The knives which they afterwards make use of to cut these skins, are crooked, and the invention probably of the country. The sinews of the rein deer stripped very slender, and prepared in like manner by the women, serves them instead of thread, They sew perfectly well. Their needles, which have nothing singular, are brought from Okotsk, and their thimbles are like those used by our tailors, and are always worn upon the forefinger. I have already given an account of their manner of smoking, but I must resume the subject in order to relate the fatal consequences that attend it. Their pipes84 will scarcely contain more than a pinch of tobacco, which they renew till they have satiated themselves; and this is effected in the following manner. By swallowing the smoak, instead of blowing it out, they gradually become so intoxicated that they would, if they were near it, fall into the fire. Experience has happily taught them to attend to the progress of this species of trance, and they have the precaution to sit down or to lay hold of the first object within their reach. The fit lasts them at least for a quarter of an hour, during which time their situation is the most painful that can be conceived. Their bodies are covered with a cold perspiration, the saliva distils from their lips, their breathing is short, and attended with a constant inclination to cough. It is only when they have brought themselves into this situation, that they conceive themselves to have enjoyed the true pleasure of smoking. Neither the men nor the women wear chemises85; their common garment has nearly the same form, but it is shorter, and made of deer skin. When they go out, they put on a warmer one over it. In winter the women wear fur breeches instead of petticoats. The 12, M. Schmaleff joined us. His return gave us the greater pleasure, as we had been very uneasy on his account. He had been absent from us six weeks, and almost a month had elapsed since the time fixed for his meeting us. He had very little provision left, but his dogs were not in so bad a condition as ours, and we embraced the opportunity of fetching our equipage which we had left in the road, and of which we had not since received any news. The southwest wind, which had so much incommoded us in our journey, continued to blow with equal violence for several days; it afterwards changed to the northeast, but the weather only became the more terrible. It seemed as if nature in anger conspired also against us to increase our difficulties and prolong our misery. I appeal to every man who has found himself in a similar situation. He only can tell how cruel it is to be thus chained down by obstacles that are incessantly springing up. We may strive to divert our thoughts, to arm ourselves with patience; our strength will at last fail, and reason lose its power over us. Nothing renders a calamity more insupportable, than the not being able to foresee when it will terminate. We had too painful an experience of this upon the receipt of the letters that were brought us from Kaminoi. We had no succour to expect from that quarter, Kabechoff informed us. The detachment from Ingiga were unable to come to us. They had been two months at Kaminoi, and had consumed not only their own flock of provision, but also the supply that had been destined for us. Their dogs, like ours, devoured one another, and the forty men were reduced to the last extremity. Our sergeant added, that he had sent immediately to Ingiga as our only resource, and that he expected an answer in a few days; but he feared that it would not be very satisfactory, as the town must be badly stocked with dogs and provisions, after the considerable supply which it had furnished. This melancholy news deprived us of all hope, and we gave ourselves up for lost. Our grief and despondence were so extreme, that M. Kasloff was at first insensible to the news of his promotion, which he had received by the same messenger. A letter from Irkoutsk informed him, that, out of gratitude for his services, the empress had advanced him from the government of Okotsk to that of Yakoutsk. In any other situation this news would have afforded him the utmost pleasure. A more extensive field was open for the display of his zeal, and a better opportunity for exercising his talents in the art of government. But his thoughts were very differently employed than in calculating the advantages of this new post, Every other sentiment yielded to that of our danger, in which he was wholly absorbed. In a moment thus critical, I can only ascribe to the inspiration of heaven, the idea that suddenly occurred to me of separating myself from M. Kasloff. In reflecting upon it, I perceived every thing there was in it disobliging to him, and mortifying to me. I endeavoured to drive the idea from my mind, but it was in vain. It returned, it fixed itself there in spite of me. I thought of my country, of my family, of my duty. Their power over me was invincible, and I disclosed myself to the governor. Upon the first view it appeared to him to be a wild project, and he failed not to oppose it. The desire of executing it, furnished me with a ready answer to all his objections. I proved to him, that by continuing together, we deprived each other of the means of pursuing his journey. We could not set off together without a strong reinforcement of dogs. We had scarcely more than twentyseven that were at all tolerable, the rest having died or being unfit for service86. By giving up these twentyseven dogs, one of us would be able to proceed, and his departure would relieve the other from the difficulty of maintaining this small number of famished steeds. But, said M. Kasloff, you must still have provision for them, and what means are there of procuring it? I was at a loss how to reply, when we were informed that our express from Potkagorno was arrived. More fortunate than the rest, he had brought us a large quantity of the flesh and fat of the whale. My joy at the sight of it was extreme, every difficulty was now removed, and I conceived myself already to be out of Poustaretsk. I returned instantly to my argument, and M. Kasloff having no longer any thing to oppose, and applauding in reality my zeal, complied with my solicitations. It was fixed that I should depart the 18 at latest. From this moment we were employed in the necessary arrangements for executing my project with the greatest safety. Every thing flattered me with the hope of success. With the melancholy news we had received from Kaminoi, there were some consoling circumstances. For instance, we were assured that no obstruction was to be apprehended from the Koriacs. A perfect calm was reestablished among them; and, to convince us of it, they had been desirous that some of their countrymen should accompany the soldier charged with the dispatches to M. Kasloff. Even the son of the chief of the rebels, called Eitel, was one of the escort. The Koriacs, he told us, had long waited with impatience the arrival of the governor, and his father meant to show his respect M. Kasloff by coming to meet him. Charmed with the idea that we had no longer any thing to fear, at least on this side, we were eager to express our satisfaction to these Koriacs for their good will to us. We made them all the presents that our situation would permit, such as tobacco, stuffs, and various articles which I had purchased during my sea voyage, as well as others that had been left me by count de la Perouse. We gave them something also for their relations. But our principal care was to make them as drunk as possible, that they might give a favourable report of their reception. It was necessary to consult their taste; and to intoxicate them completely, they considered as the very essence of politeness. I proposed to these Koriacs to take charge of two of my portmanteaus. They expressed at first some unwillingness, on account of the distance, which was as far as Ingiga. By means, however, of entreaties and my purse, I at last prevailed upon them to take them into their sledges. Eased in this manner of my baggage, I had nothing to think of but my dispatches. The effects which I had intrusted to the Koriacs gave me little or no concern, as the soldier sent from Ingiga would return with them, and had promised to see that the trust was faithfully executed. To the last moment of my stay M. Kasloff had been laboriously87 employed in preparing his letters, which I was to have the care of. With these he delivered to me a podarojenei, or passport, that was to serve me as far as Irkoutsk. This passport was also an order to all Russian officers and other inhabitants, subjects of the empress, whom I should meet in my way to that place, to assist me with the means of proceeding on my journey with safety and expedition. The foresight of the governor omitted nothing that was necessary for me. Had I been the brother of his heart, his attentions could not have been greater. I must pause; for I cannot suppress the emotion I feel at the thought that I am upon the point of quitting this estimable man, rendered for ever dear to me, still more by the virtues of his heart than the accomplishments of his understanding. The generous sacrifice he made is at this moment a weight upon me, and I cannot avoid reproaching myself for having wished it. What do I not suffer upon leaving him in these frightful deserts, without knowing whether he will ever be able to come out of them! The image of his melancholy situation haunts and agitates my mind. Ah! I repeat it; it must have been the conviction that there was no other way of executing the trust reposed in me, which impelled me, in spite of the prohibition of count de la Perouse, to take this resolution. But for this motive, but for my dispatches, I could never justify to my own heart my eagerness to leave him. May the testimony which my gratitude will ever render for his goodness to me, and his zeal for the service of his mistress, contribute in some measure to his advancement and his happiness; mine will be complete, if I have ever the pleasure of seeing him again, and embracing him in my arms. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. FOOTNOTES: 1 If my pen were equal to the subject, what admirable things might I relate of these celebrated men, formed to conduct a grand enterprise with the utmost harmony? But their exploits, and the public esteem, have long placed them above my praises. 2 Called by the Russians Petropavlosskaiagaven. 3 After loading with civilities every individual engaged in the expedition, he was farther desirous of supplying the frigates with provisions. Notwithstanding the difficulty of procuring oxen in this country, he furnished seven at his own expence, and could be prevailed upon by no entreaties to accept any equivalent, but regretted that he was not able to procure a greater number. 4 The navigation is sufficiently safe in summer, and is the only mode of travelling that is adopted. 5 According to the accounts of the earliest navigators, it is the most commodious port in this part of Asia, and ought to be the general dept for the commerce of the country. This would be so much the more advantageous, as the vessels which frequent the other ports, commonly consider themselves as fortunate if they escape shipwreck; and for this reason the Empress has expressly prohibited all navigation after the 26th of September. I learned a circumstance at the same time, which confirms what I have said, and seems to have occasioned the first idea of these improvements. An English ship, belonging to M. Lanz, a merchant of Macao, came to anchor in the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, in the year 1786. Captain Peters, who commanded the vessel, made proposals of commerce to the Russians, of which the following are the particulars. By a treaty which he had entered into with a Russian merchant, named Schelikhoff, he engaged to carry on a commerce with this part of the states of the Empress, and demanded goods to the amount of eighty thousand roubles. These goods would probably have consisted of furs, which the English expected to find a market for in China, from whence they would have brought back in exchange stuffs and other articles useful to the Russians. Schelikhoff repaired immediately to Saint Petersburg, to solicit the consent of his sovereign, which he obtained; but while was endeavouring to fulfil the conditions of his engagement, he learned that the English vessel had been lost upon the coast of Copper Island (Ile de Cuivre) in its return to Kamtschatka from the northwest part of America, where it was probable it had sailed, in order to begin its cargo, which it expected to complete at the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. Two only of the crew were known to have been saved, a Portuguese and a Bengal negro, who passed the winter at Copper Island, from whence a Russian vessel conveyed them to NijeneiKamtschatka. We joined them at Bolcheretsk, and it was M. Kasloff's intention to send them next season to Petersburg. 6 The word ostrog properly signifies a construction surrounded with pallisadoes. Its etymology may be derived, I imagine, from the entrenchments hastily constructed by the Russians to protect them from the incursions of the natives, who, doubtless, did not passively suffer their country to be invaded. The appellation of ostrog is now given to almost all the villages in this country. 7 His name was Khabaroff, and he had the rank of a prporchik, or ensign. 8 At a little distance from this spot was buried, at the foot of a tree, the body of captain Clerke. The inscription which the English placed upon his tomb, was on wood, and liable to be effaced. Count de la Perouse, desirous that the name of this navigator should be immortalised, without having any thing to fear from the injuries of the weather, substituted instead of it an inscription on copper. It is needless to mention, that he enquired at the same time where the famous French astronomer, from the island of Croyere, had been buried. He entreated M. Kasloff to order a tomb to be erected, and an epitaph, which he left engraved on copper, to be placed on it, containing an elogy, and the circumstances of the death of our countryman. I saw his intentions carried into execution after the departure of the French frigates. 9 There is a volcano about fifteen or twenty wersts from the port, which the naturalists who accompanied count de la Perouse visited, and which will be mentioned in his voyage. The inhabitants informed me that smoak often issued from it, but that an eruption, which used to be frequent, had not happened for many years. 10 The excessive cold of which the English complain, may not be without example; and I pretend not to contradict them. But as a proof that the rigour of the climate is not so very piercing, the inhabitants, whom they represent as not daring to come out of their subterraneous dwellings, or yourts, during the whole winter, for fear of being frozen, no longer construct any of these caves in this southern part of the peninsula, as I shall have occasion to observe elsewhere. I acknowledge, however, that the cold which I experienced during my abode there, and which may be compared to that of the winter of 1779, appeared to me very similar to what is felt at Saint Petersburg. What the English must have had reason to suppose extraordinary, are the dreadful hurricanes, which bring on such thick and heavy storms of snow, that it is not possible either to venture out, or to advance, if we are on a journey. I experienced this more than once, as will be seen in the sequel. 11 M. Schmaleff is inspector general for the Kamtschadales, or, as it is called in Russia, capitanispravnik for the department of Kamtschatka; he is the same person whom the English had so much reason to praise, and the good offices he rendered us intitle him equally to our esteem. 12 Secretary to the governor; he is employed in civil affairs, and ranks as an officer. 13 M. Ivaschkin is the unfortunate gentleman mentioned by the English, and who merits in every respect the eulogium bestowed on him. The mere recital of his misfortunes is sufficient to excite the compassion of every reader; but it is necessary to have seen and observed him, to judge of the extreme interest which his unhappy lot is calculated to inspire. He was not twenty years of age, when the empress Elizabeth made him serjeant of her guard of Preobrajenskoi. He already enjoyed a certain credit at court, and the free access to the sovereign, which his office gave him, opened the most brilliant career to his ambition; when all at once he saw himself not merely disgraced and deprived of all his flattering hopes, but treated as the greatest criminal; he was knowted, which is the severest and most degrading punishment practised in Russia, had his nose slit, and was banished for life to Kamtschatka. The English have told us what he suffered for more than twenty years, from the rigour with which he was treated; he was denied even the first necessaries of life, and must infallibly have perished of hunger and misery, or fallen a prey to despair, if the force of his mind and the strength of his constitution had not supported him. The necessity of providing for his own subsistence, compelled him, not without disgust, to naturalize himself with the Kamtschadales, and to adopt entirely their mode of living; he is clothed like them, and by means of hunting and fishing is enabled to procure, not merely a sufficiency for his wants, but a superfluity, from the sale of which he obtains some little conveniencies that seem to sweeten his miserable existence. He resides at VerckneiKamtschatka, or Upper Kamtschatka. The Russians are ignorant of the cause of so severe a punishment; they are disposed to attribute it to a misunderstanding, or some indiscreet words, for they know not how to suppose him capable of a crime. It seems as if a change of sentiment had taken place respecting the pretended enormity of his offence, a proposal having been lately made of changing the place of his banishment, and removing him to Yakoutsk, a town that offers a variety of resources, both for profit and pleasure. But this unfortunate being, who is from sixty to sixtyfive years of age, has refused to avail himself of this permission, not wishing, as he said, to make a show of the hideous marks of his dishonour, and to blush a second time at the dreadful punishment he has undergone. He preferred the continuing to live with the Kamtschadales, having but one desire left, that of passing the few remaining days of life with those who know his integrity, and of carrying with him to his grave the general friendship and esteem, to which he is so justly intitled. The accounts given by the English, excited in count de la Perouse a desire to see this unfortunate man, who inspired him from the first moment with the most lively pity. He received him on board his ship, and at his table. The count's humanity was not confined to compassionating his miseries; he sought every means of softening them, by leaving him whatever was calculated to remind him of our abode there, and prove to him that the English are not the only foreigners interested in his sorrowful lot. 14 Baidars are boats somewhat similar to European ones, except that the sides are made of planks from four to six inches wide, and fastened together with withies or cords, and that they are caulked with moss. The baidars are the only vessels made use of to sail to the Kurilles islands, they are commonly rowed, but will admit of a sail. 15 His name is Feodor Vereschaguin; he succeeded his eldest brother Romanoff Vereschaguin, who shewed so many civilities to captain Clerke, and whom I afterwards found at Bolcheretsk. 16 His predecessor had informed the English that this parish was to be immediately transferred to the ostrog of St. Peter and St. Paul; but this cannot take place till the projected improvements respecting the port are carried into execution. We cannot help observing, that the English have omitted to mention that there was formerly a church at St. Peter and St. Paul's, and that its situation is known by means of a sort of tomb which formed a part of it. 17 This river empties itself, as I have already said, into the bay of Avatscha. The shoals, which are commonly dry at low water, render its entrance impracticable; it is even difficult at high water. 18 As I stood to examine the Kamtschadale houses, I frequently imagined to myself the disdainful surprise that our French Sybarites would express at the sight, some of whom are so proud of their vast hotels, and others so jealous of their little neat and decorated apartments, where the art of arrangement scarcely falls short of the refined luxury of superb furniture. I conceived them to exclaimHow can human beings live in these miserable huts! A Kamtschadale however, is by no means unhappy in these cabins, whose architecture seem to lead us back to the first age of the world; he lives there with his family in tranquillity; he enjoys at least the happiness of knowing few privations, and of having therefore less wants, and has no objects of envious comparison before his eyes. 19 I met with some afterwards in the northern part, which I took care to examine, and have described in their proper place. 20 As I shall soon be obliged to adopt this mode of travelling, I shall defer my description of the dogs till that period. 21 They produce an effect somewhat similar to the oiled paper in the windows of our manufactories. 22 A werst is exactly ten hundred yards. This seems not accurately to agree with the scale of wersts in the map. We leave it to the reader to follow which authority he pleases. T. 23 A Russian name which signifies, large river. 24 Formerly they dared not approach these springs, or any volcano, from the idea that they were the abode of evil spirits. 25 M. Kasloff gave some of this gum to one of the naturalists of our expedition, the abb Mongs, while the frigates were at Saint Peter and Saint Paul. 26 M. Kasloff, who presided in this chace, had the politeness to make me a present of this sable, called in this country sobol, and promised to add it to another, that I might bring a couple with me to France. 27 These skins are not only a considerable branch of commerce, but serve as a species of money with the Kamtschadales. 28 See Cook's Voyage, vol. III. p. 208. 29 When these galliots are obliged to winter here, they harbour in the mouth of a narrow and deep river, which pours itself into the Bolchaareka, about fifty yards from the hamlet, higher up. 30 This guardhouse is likewise used as a prison, and even as a school for children. The master of the school is a Japanese; he is skilled in many languages, and is paid by government for instructing the children of this country. 31 Their pay is so inconsiderable, that the receipt of a whole year would not suffice to maintain them for a single month, if they had not the resource of a petty fraudulent commerce, of which I shall presently give an account. 32 This is well known to be the ruling passion of all the people of the north; but I have had more than one occasion to observe, that the Kamtschadales are inferior in this respect to none of them. The following story, among others, was told me, that I might be able to judge of the rapacity of these vagabond traders, and the stupid prodigality of their dupes. A Kamtschadale had given a sable for a glass of brandy. Inflamed with a desire of drinking another, he invited the seller into his house. The merchant thanked him, but said he was in a hurry. The Kamtschadale renewed his solicitations, and proposed a second bargain: he prevailed.\"Come, another glass for this sable, it is a finer one than the first.No; I must keep the rest of my brandy; I have promised to sell it at such a place, and I must be gone.Stay a moment; here are two sables.Tis all in vain.Well, come, I will add another.Agreed, drink.\" Meanwhile the three sables are seized, and the hypocrite makes a fresh pretence to come away: his host redoubles his importunities to retain him, and demands a third glass: further refusals and further offers: the higher the chapman raises his price, the more the Kamtschadale is prodigal of his furs. Who would have supposed that it would have ended in the sacrifice of seven most beautiful sables for this last glass! they were all he had. 33 A Russian measure containing from fifteen to twenty quarts. 34 Eighteen pounds sterling, estimating the rouble at four shillings and sixpence. 35 Nine pounds nine shillings. 36 Articles of apparel made of the skins of rein deer are procured from the Koriacs. 37 By the name of lilium flore atro rubente. 38 The Cossacs use rye also, which makes a sort of black bread, like that of the Russian peasants. Government allows them a certain quantity of rye flour, but it is insufficient, and they are obliged to procure more at their own expence. Some of them lay it up in store in order to profit by its future sale. 39 It is called in Kamtschatka, tscheremscha. Gmelin denominates it: allium foliis radicalibus petiolatis, floribus umbellatis. Vol. 1. p. 49. 40 Spondilium foliolis pinnatifidis. See Linn. The juice of the rind of this plant is so acrid, that it is impossible to touch it without blistering the hand. In gathering it they take care to wear gloves. 41 This brandy intoxicates much quicker than French brandy; whoever drinks it, is sure to be extremely agitated during the night, and to feel the next day as melancholy and restless as if he had committed some crime. 42 Daria is a female Russian name. 43 The Kamtschadales are unable to shoot without this means of resting their gun, which, from the time required to prepare it, is evidently inconsistent with the celerity of this instrument, its chief advantage to a sportsman. 44 It is common enough also for it to take to flight, notwithstanding its wound, and conceal itself in thickets or rushes, where it is traced by means of its blood, and found either dead or expiring. 45 I was assured that when a bear triumphs over his aggressor, he tears the skin from the skull, draws it over his face, and then leaves him; a mode of revenge which implies, according to the Kamtschadales, that this animal cannot bear the human aspect; and this strange prejudice supports them in the opinion of their superiority, and seems to inspire them with additional courage. 46 They hunt the bear in this manner in every season of the year, except when the country is covered with snow; their method is then different. It is known that in winter the bear retreats to the den which he has fabricated during summer of the branches of trees; he continues there while the frost lasts, either asleep, or licking his paws. The Kamtschadales pursue him in their sledges, and attack him with their dogs, who oblige him to defend himself: he rushes from his lurking place to certain death; if he refuse to come out, his fate is equally certain, and he is crushed to death under the ruins of his den. 47 These animals are all described in Cook's voyage. 48 The flesh of bears, argali, and rein deer, is considered by them as very wholesome, the last particularly; I frequently feasted upon it. 49 The Aleutienne islands, Schoumagine islands, Fox islands, c. 50 Their nets are made of pack thread, like ours; they purchase it of the Russians: there is another kind however, which they fabricate themselves from nettles, of which they take care to lay up a considerable store. They gather them in autumn, tie them in bundles, and place them under their balagans to dry. When their fishing and harvests are compleated, they prepare their nettles. They slit them, and then strip off the rind expertly with their teeth; the rest they beat and shake till the filaments are separated, and it is fit for spinning. 51 They are castrated like horses, but the mode of performing the operation is different. The Kamtschadales do not extirpate the testicles, but bruise them, and the instrument they make use of is their teeth. Some of them do not survive, and others are crippled and unfit for service. In the mean time it is imagined that equal advantage could not be derived from these animals, if they were permitted to remain in their natural state; it would not be practicable to harness them with females. All the males, however, are not mutilated; a sufficient number is reserved for the preservation of the species, and these are frequently used for hunting. 52 The sledges for baggage are called narta, and are drawn by ten dogs. 53 Called alaki. 54 This stick is called oschtol. 55 The dogs feeling their burthen become lighter, advance with such speed as frequently not to stop till they have exhausted themselves with fatigue, or dashed the sledge to pieces against the trees. 56 The snow began to fall 5 November, and so heavily, that the country was covered almost immediately. But the frost being later, and gusts of wind continuing almost without cessation, the sledges could not conveniently be used till a considerable time after, as will be seen in the sequel. 57 These rackets are called ligi. In the northern part of the peninsula they use another sort of racket, called lapki, which are shorter, and made of leathern thorns twisted, like the firings of a tennis racket; two small sharp pointed bones are fixed in the bottom, which penetrate the ice, and are a preservative against sliding. 58 A kind of close coach to sleep in, and which is fitted to the sledge. It is like a carriage very common in Russia, called vezok; mine was lined with bear's skin, and covered with the skin of the sea wolf. 59 In an ostrog at some distance from Bolcheretsk, I had afterwards an opportunity of considering this subject more fully, and my observations will be found in their proper place. 60 The revolution which took place in Kamtschatka respecting the chamans, is the precise history of all our mountebanks. Similar in their impostures, their reign and their fall are similar. Various reflections might be made on this subject. That a people equally simple and uninformed, like the Kamtschadales, should for a time have been the dupes of the impostures of their magicians, is not astonishing, and will admit of an excuse: but that such extreme ignorance and credulity should be made sensible of their error, and blush at it, is a matter of surprise and congratulation; for even with the most enlightened nations of Europe, do not some kinds of chamans spring up every day, equally perfidious and destructive! They have all in the mean time their apostles, their proselytes, and a prodigious number of martyrs. 61 A Russian weight equal to about thirtythree pounds. 62 These hurricanes prevail chiefly in the months of November, December, and January. 63 They were chiefly common sledges, such as we have already described, page 118. Some were closed in the manner of vezocks or kibicks; mine was of this description, as I have mentioned, page 127. In the thirtyfive sledges do not include those of the inhabitants of Bolcheretsk, who accompanied us as far as Apatchin. 64 Fortyfive dogs were harnessed to M. Kasloff's sledge, and thirtyseven to mine. 65 I had passed through this village on my road to Bolcheretsk, and have described it, page 65. 66 Another object of this journey was to procure us provisions. We rejoined him afterwards, as will be seen in the sequel. 67 The Kamtschatka, which was not yet frozen. 68 See page 19. 69 This object of their worship is accurately described in Steller. 70 A sort of tambour de vasque called bouben. It is still in use amongst the Yakoutsk, as will be seen hereafter. 71 A village upon the border of the river Pengina. 72 I had the misfortune, while at Machoure, to lose the sable M. Kasloff had given me, which died in spite of all the cares I took of it. I preserved however the skin. It had been a considerable amusement to me to observe its motions. Its extreme activity rendered its chain insupportable. It frequently attempted to escape, and would infallibly have succeeded, if I had not watched it continually; and I never caught it again without experiencing the marks of its teeth. It fed upon fish and meat; the latter was preferred, and is the favourite food of these animals in their wild state. Their address in catching birds and animals inferior to themselves, is astonishing. Mine slept almost all day, and made a continual racket in the night by shaking its chain; but timid to excess, it ceased to make the least noise when it saw any one coming, and began again the moment it was alone. I used to let it out several times a day, and as soon as it was upon the snow, it began to burrow and conceal itself under it like a mole, appearing every now and then, and hiding itself again immediately. 73 I learned afterwards that the sledge of M. Kasloff, who passed at noon day, had barely escaped from being dashed to pieces in running against a tree, and that two of his conductors had been hurt by the violence of the shock. 74 The villages have almost universally the same name as the rivers upon which they are placed, those only excepted which are upon the Kamtschatka. 75 I shall be censured perhaps for making my narrative abound with dry and uniform details. I would willingly spare the reader in this respect, if I had not promised to observe the utmost accuracy. Let him consider the objects with which I am surrounded in the immense extent of country that I travel, and he will perceive that they are almost always the same. Does it then depend upon me to vary my descriptions, and avoid tautology? 76 There is such a continual smoke in these subterraneous habitations, that the opening in the roof is not sufficient to let it out, and there is therefore in an unoccupied corner of the yourt, behind the fireplace, a kind of venthole in an oblique direction. It is called joupann; it terminates without, at a little distance from the square opening, and is commonly closed up with a mat or straw covering. 77 Some of the yourts which I saw were floored with planks; but this is regarded as a luxury, and the generality have no other floor than the ground. 78 This nook is in a manner distinct from the room, and is less filthy, because it is less frequented. It is a place of honour set apart for strangers. 79 They make use of the herb called tonnchitcha for the same purpose. 80 There are some of these wandering Koriacs, I am told, in the island of Karagui, which is twentysix wersts from the village of that name. I had before imagined that I could perceive this island at a distance. 81 These knives are about two feet long; they are worn in their girdle, and hang upon the thigh. 82 To guard ourselves against these famished dogs we never dared to go out without our sticks, or some kind of arms to drive them off. 83 It is called by the people of this country Poustaareka, or desert river. This gulf was entirely frozen over. 84 The tubes of these pipes are made of wood, with a slit from one end to the other. Thus they open in the middle, and the smoakers, from oeconomy, scrape the inside after using, and make a second regale of the filings. 85 In describing the dress of the Kamtschadales, we observed that they wore under their parque a small chemise made of nankin, or cotton stuff. 86 The reader will recollect that upon leaving Bolcheretsk, we had a troop consisting nearly of three hundred. 87 It was really a labour, and a most fatiguing one, if we consider that in these yourts it was not possible to write, without lying upon the ground; we were also suffocated with smoke, and the ink froze by our side. Transcriber's Notes Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired. The following archaic spellings have not been changed: alledge, butend, carabine, centinel, chace, compleated, extasy, seise, smoak. Hyphen removed: oatmeal (p. 151), Reindeer (p. 113), staircase (pp. 26, 27). P. viii: with sorrow and affecton  with sorrow and affection. P. xiv: Klatchefskaa inhabited by Siberian peasants  Klutchefskaa inhabited by Siberian peasants. P. xv: We are apprehhensive  We are apprehensive. P. xv: Desription of Poustaretsk  Description of Poustaretsk. P. 6: They sat sail  They set sail. P. 7: Kaslof  Kasloff. P. 7: surrendering myself implicity  surrendering myself implicitly. P. 8: Kosloff  Kasloff. P. 20fn: couveniencies  conveniencies. P. 31: preserved to them this priviledge  preserved to them this privilege. P. 87: Kamtscadales  Kamtschadales. P. 89: They disperse in crouds  They disperse in crowds. P. 99: lessons which thy gave  lessons which they gave. P. 99: progess of reform  progress of reform. P. 103: facinated my eyes  fascinated my eyes. P. 108: haunt of this annimal  haunt of this animal. P. 110fn: if he refuse to come out  if he refuses to come out. P. 111fn: raindeer  rein deer. P. 116: unclear word restored as \"Meanwhile\". P. 129: in like mannner  in like manner. P. 142: whose business is to vsiit  whose business is to visit. P. 145: no particular priviledge  no particular privilege. P. 176: eighbouring mountains  neighbouring mountains. P. 182: acquisiton of wealth  acquisition of wealth. P. 184: the veneration ... for sorcecerers  the veneration ... for sorcerers. P. 187: there are individuls  there are individuals. P. 191: We sat off early  We set off early. P. 199: VerkneiKamtschatka  VerckneiKamtschatka. P. 238: as as well as the form  as well as the form. P. 240: Kamtaschadale  Kamtschadale. P. 255: large peices of it  large pieces of it. P. 256: We sat off in the night  We set off in the night. P. 260: view of the many obstactles  view of the many obstacles. P. 265: preserve an equiliribum  preserve an equilibrium. P. 267: He departed the 10  He departed at 10. generously made available by The Internet Archive) TRAVELS IN KAMTSCHATKA, DURING THE YEARS 1787 AND 1788. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. DE LESSEPS, CONSUL OF FRANCE, AND INTERPRETER TO THE COUNT DE LA PEROUSE, NOW ENGAGED IN A VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD, BY COMMAND OF HIS MOST CHRISTIAN MAJESTY. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOLUME II. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, ST. PAULS CHURCHYARD. 1790. CONTENTS TO VOL. II. Page Departure from Poustaretsk 1 Find some concealed provisions 4 Painful travelling 5 Am guilty of an imprudence that injures my health 6 Cured by exercise 9 Meet three convoys sent to M. Kasloff 10 River Penguina 12 Arrival at Kaminoi ib Koriacs falsely accused of rebellion 13 Description of Kaminoi 16 Baidars, or large boats 17 M. Schmaleff is obliged to quit me 18 Gives me a soldier named YegorGolikoff ib Tempest 20 Arrival of seven Tchouktchis 21 Conversation with their chief 22 Account of two women who accosted me 31 Arrival at the camp of the Tchouktchis 36 Description of the camp 39 Dress of the women 42 Features 43 Commerce of the Tchouktchis 44 Arrival at Parein 46 History of a woman of Ingiga 47 Alarmed by a Koriac chief, who wishes to detain me 49 Departure from Parein 59 Meet a horde of wandering Koriacs 63 Contest with my people respecting the weather 65 Surprise them by the use I made of my compass 67 Terrible hurricane 70 Arrival at Ingiga 74 Account of a Koriac prince called Oumiavin 79 Extent of the country 83 Population ib Manners of the fixed Koriacs 84 Their inflexible courage 85 Mode of life 87 Occupations 88 Food 89 Drink 90 Features 92 Cradle in which the women carry their children 93 Marriages ib Funerals 96 Religion 100 Idiom 105 Preparations for my departure from Ingiga 106 Superstition of my soldiers 113 Departure from Ingiga 115 Description of a Koriac sledge 117 Mode of travelling with deer 122 In danger of my life, from being my own charioteer 124 Receive a visit and present from prince Amoulamoula 130 Arrival at the yourt of Oumiavins brother 132 Details respecting my host 134 Flocks of rein deer 143 Yourts of the wandering Koriacs 147 Hot springs of Tavatoma 151 Mountain of Villegui 154 Ostrog of Touman 157 Tempest 160 Take shelter in a deserted yourt 161 Plan of my journey 168 Bay of Iret 170 Arrival at Yamsk 172 Dress of the wandering Toungouses 174 Mountain called Babouschka, or grandmother 177 Ostrog of Srednoi 180 Of Siglann 181 Ola, a Toungouse ostrog 183 Toungouse yourts ib Coquetry of the women 185 Features and character of the Toungouses 186 Perplexities to which we are reduced by the ice being broken up 188 Obliged to pass over a cornice of ice that adhered to a rock 190 Stop at the house of a Yakout 197 Fort of Taousk 200 Village of Gorb ib Of In 202 Arrival at Okotsk 204 Visit Mrs. Kasloff 208 Impossibility of procuring deer 210 Description of Okotsk 211 Departure from Okotsk 214 Dangerous situation on a river 215 Remonstrance of one of my guides 217 Obliged to return to Okotsk 219 News of the arrival of M. Kasloff at Ingiga 225 Historical details respecting the commerce of Okotsk 227 Its government 242 Expedition of M. Billings 246 Breaking up of the river Okhota 249 Famine occasioned by the length of winter 252 Preparations for my departure 254 Description of my wretched steeds 257 Salt work twelve wersts from Okotsk 259 Particulars of my journey 260 Manner of our halt 265 Food of the Yakouts 269 Meet a caravan of merchants 270 In danger of being drowned 272 Arrival at Ouratskoplodbisch 277 Custom observed by the Yakouts when they leave a horse in the high way 279 Accident that happens to Golikoff 280 Arrival at the cross of Yudoma 281 Difficulties we experience from the wretched condition of the boats 282 A cataract 286 Arm of the Yudoma, called the Devils arm 292 Enter the river Maya 294 Meet nine boats loaded with military stores for M. Billings expedition 295 A fortunate supply of horses 296 Yakout songs 298 Particulars of my journey as far as Amgui 299 My reception at Amgui 301 Description of a Yakout yourt 302 A drink called koumouiss 303 Customs and manners of the Yakouts 304 Fables 308 Funerals 310 Wooden images of a malicious divinity 314 Summer habitations of the Yakouts 315 Arrival at Yarmangui 316 Width of the Lena at Yakoutsk 317 Arrival at Yakoutsk 318 Sup with M. Billings 319 Description of Yakoutsk 321 Inhabitants 322 Navigation on the Lena 323 Persons employed in this service from stage to stage 324 Town of Oleckma 328 Meet a Toungouse ib Toungouse canoes 329 Visit a horde of these people 330 Particulars respecting them 331 Town of Pelodui 334 Of Kiringui 336 Particulars of the Bratskis 338 Arrival at Irkoutsk 339 Commerce carried on between Russia and China 345 Desert of Barabniskoistep 362 Adventure in this desert 364 Arrival at Tomsk 366 At Tobolsk 369 At Catherinebourg 370 Head dress of the Tcheremisses 371 Town of Casan 372 An accident that endangers my life 373 Nijeneinovogorod 377 Arrival at Moscow ib At Petersburg 379 At Versailles 381 Vocabulary of the Kamtschadale, Koriac, Tchouktchi, and Lamout languages 383 Vocabulary of the Kamtschadale language at St. Peter and St. Pauls, and at Paratounka 404 TRAVELS IN KAMTSCHATKA, c. At length the 18 arrived, and I took leave of M. Kasloff. I shall pass over our adieux; it will be supposed that they were equally affectionate and distressing. I departed from Poustaretsk at eight oclock in the morning, in an open sledge drawn by seven dogs, which I drove myself; the soldier appointed to escort me had eight harnessed to his; and we were preceded by a guide chosen from the inhabitants of this hamlet1, whose sledge, loaded with the remainder of my effects, and our provisions, was drawn by a team of twelve. I was accompanied also by M. Schmaleff and the subaltern officers of his suite; but instead of travelling together, as had been agreed, as far as Ingiga, we separated a few days after. Upon leaving Poustaretsk, we descended the gulf. We proceeded at first with tolerable ease; the ice was solid and even, and in a few hours we arrived at the mouth: there our progress was attended with more difficulty. Obliged to travel upon the sea without leaving the coast, we were every moment interrupted with piles of ice, that appeared like so many rocks, against which we were to be dashed to pieces. It was impossible to avoid them by turning and winding; an unequal chain of these little mountains extended all along the coast, and intercepted our passage; we had no resource but to attempt to surmount them, at the risk of being overturned every step. More than once, in these falls, I had a narrow escape from being dangerously wounded. My musquet, which was fastened to my sledge, was bent to the shape of a bow; many of my companions were severely bruised, and not an individual came off unhurt. In the dusk of the evening we arrived at a hamlet situated upon the border of the sea, consisting of two yourts and three balagans, in a very wretched condition, and totally deserted. The only person who lived in the yourt which we entered, had fled upon our approach2. I was informed that this man was a chaman or magician: seized with terror at the news that we were to arrive the next day, he flew immediately for refuge to the Oluterians3, where he would probably remain till M. Kasloff had passed. The Cossac who gave me this information, had been sent forward the evening previous to our departure from Poustaretsk, by M. Schmaleff, with orders to stop at this hamlet till we should arrive, and endeavour in the mean time to discover some concealed store of fish. This precaution was very serviceable to us. The Cossac, upon our arrival, conducted us to a cave which we found to be well stocked. I took a tolerable portion, having brought from Poustaretsk only provision enough for two days. The 19, early in the morning we pursued our route. This days journey was still more fatiguing than the preceding one. The way was terrible. Twenty times I saw my sledge ready to be shattered to pieces, which would certainly have been the case, if I had not at last determined to proceed on foot. I was compelled to this, in order to guard myself against the danger of being overturned, and thus was I obliged to walk almost the whole day; but I only avoided one misfortune to fall into another. In a few hours I felt myself so fatigued that I was going to remount my sledge, when a sudden jolt instantly turned it upon its side, and effectually cooled my desire. I had no resource but to drag myself on as well as I could. My legs bent under me, I was in a profuse perspiration, and a burning thirst still added to my weariness. The snow was a poor relief, and I had nothing else with which to quench my thirst. Unfortunately I perceived a little river; absolute necessity conduced my steps to it, and, without reflecting upon the consequences of my imprudence, I instantly broke the ice, and put a piece into my mouth. This precipitation was purely mechanical, and I soon repented it. My thirst was relieved; but from the excessive heat of which I before complained, I passed to the contrary extreme; a universal chill seized me, and all my limbs trembled. The sharpness of the night increased my agueish feeling, and my weakness at last was so extreme, that I was unable to proceed a step farther. I entreated my companions to halt in the midst of this desert. They complied out of pure civility to me, for the difficulty of procuring wood was otherwise a sufficient reason to determine them to proceed. Scarcely could they collect enough to place under a kettle; it consisted of a few little shrubs, so green that it was almost impossible to make them burn. How happy were we to succeed so far as to be able to make tea! After drinking a few cups, I retired to my tent4, where I lay down upon a small mattrass spread upon the snow, and covered myself up with a number of furs, in order to revive perspiration. It was in vain; I did not close my eyes during the whole night. To the anguish of a dry and burning fever, were added a continual oppression, and all the restlessness peculiar to the first symptoms of a disorder. I conceived myself, I acknowledge, to be dangerously ill, particularly when I found, upon getting up, that I could not articulate a single sound. I suffered infinitely both in my breast and throat; the fever was not abated; nevertheless the idea that a longer halt in this place would be of no benefit to me, and that I could only hope for succour by proceeding, determined me to conceal my extreme illness from M. Schmaleff. I was the first to propose going on, but in this I consulted my courage more than my strength. I had advanced but a few wersts, when my sufferings became insupportable. I was obliged to drive myself, and consequently to be in continual motion; frequently also I was compelled from the badness of roads, either to run by the side of my sledge, or call to the dogs to make them proceed. My hoarseness prevented their hearing me; and it was only by efforts that exhausted my strength, and tortured my lungs, that I at last succeeded. This exercise however, painful as it was, proved salutary to me; by degrees it created a perspiration; in the evening I could breathe more freely; the fever left me; I had no complaint but a violent cold, which was removed in a few days. Fatiguing exercise was the only remedy I used. I took particular care to continue the perspiration it occasioned, and to this I am persuaded I owe the rapidity of my cure. My breast however was so sore, that I felt the effects of it for a considerable time. During this interval I had nothing to suffer from the rigour of tempests; the air was calm, and the weather clear. We were blessed with the finest days of winter, or I should perhaps never again have seen my native country. Heaven seemed to favour my journey, that I might forget my sufferings. The most lively joy soon succeeded to the sorrow that had depressed me. We met, in different detachments, three convoys sent by sergeant Kabechoff to M. Kasloff. This unexpected succour gave me the more pleasure, as the deplorable state in which I had left the governor, was continually recurring to my mind. What a sudden change in his situation! He was upon the point of receiving a supply of provisions, together with an hundred and fifty dogs well fed and well trained. He will be able, said I to myself, to proceed immediately on his journey; and if I cannot flatter myself that I shall see him again, I know at least that he will be extricated from his embarassment. This certainty relieved the anxiety which I had felt on his account. The soldier who conducted the convoys, offered me part of his provisions; but I refused them. He had no profusion, and we were not in want. I detained him therefore as short a time as possible. Before he quitted us, he told me that prince Eitel, or chief of the Koriacs of Kaminoi, who had been accused of rebellion, was advancing to undeceive the governor, and prove the falsehood of the charge. In pursuing our route, we perceived, beyond a small river bordered with some shrubs, a chain of steep mountains, which it was necessary to climb one after the other, in order to descend upon another river, called Talofka. Its banks diverged as it approached the sea; they were well wooded, and I perceived some trees of a tolerable size. We left this river at a distance from Kaminoi, in order to traverse an extensive heath, then a considerable lake; at length we crossed the river Pengina, almost at its mouth, and in a direction from southeast to northwest. Its breadth is striking, and the aspect of the heaps of ice that covered it, and which were of an extreme height, would have been still more picturesque, if we could have taken a more convenient way; but we had no choice, and were reduced to the necessity of hoisting, as I may say, our dogs and our sledges from heap to heap. The difficulty and slowness of this manuvre is easily conceived; it required my utmost exertion and care to get off unhurt. It was still near two hours before we reached Kaminoi, where we arrived the 24 before noon. We were received by the inhabitants with the utmost civility. In the absence of Eitel, another prince called Eila, had the command. He came to meet us with a Russian detachment, and we were conducted to the yourt of Eitel, which had been cleaned and prepared a long time for the reception of M. Kasloff. Eila conferred upon us every mark of respect; we had constantly a centinel at our door, whose orders were to open it to such persons only as we had no reason to distrust. This was not owing to any doubts we entertained respecting the report that had been spread of the rebellion of the Koriacs; it was evidently false5. Their behaviour to us, and the reception they had prepared for the governor, plainly proved what was their disposition at present. Nor is it to be presumed that this was the effect of the arrival of the soldiers sent from Ingiga6. Their wretched condition was little calculated to awe men like the Koriacs, who are too little attached to life, I understand, to be ever intimidated; and whom nothing can restrain, if they have the least ground for discontent. The sight however of the cannon, and of the Cossacs in arms, who had entered the village without announcing any hostile intention, gave them at first some alarm. Immediately advancing towards the subaltern officer who commanded the troop, they called upon him to declare, whether he was come to strike a blow at their liberty, and extirpate them; adding, that if such were the project of the Russians, the Koriacs would all die to a man, rather than submit. The officer removed their fears, by artfully answering, that the occasion of his embassy ought not to alarm them; that he was sent to meet M. Kasloff, which was an honour due to his rank, and prescribed by the military regulations of Russia towards their governors. This explanation was sufficient to remove their suspicions; and the Koriacs and Russians lived together upon terms of the best understanding. The confidence of the Koriacs was so great, that they took no precautions against a surprise, and would have paid no attention to the continued abode of these soldiers among them, but for a famine, which began to render such guests burthensome. I had intended to stay no longer at Kaminoi than was necessary to rest my dogs; but on the night of the 24, the sky became obscured, and frequent gusts of wind threatened an approaching tempest; the fear of encountering it in the open field, made me defer my departure. This ostrog is three hundred wersts from Poustaretsk, and is situated upon an eminence near the sea coast, and at the mouth of the river Pengina. It contains a great number of balagans and twelve yourts, all of them very large, and built in a similar manner to those I have already described. Though very near to one another, these habitations occupy a considerable space of ground. The palisades which surround them are fortified with spears, bows and arrows, and musquets. They are thicker and higher than those placed round the Kamtschadale yourts. Within these wretched fortifications the Koriacs consider themselves as impregnable. Here they repel the attacks of their enemies, and among others, the Tchoukchis, who are the most formidable of their neighbours, both in point of number and courage7. The population at Kaminoi scarcely exceeds three hundred persons, including men, women, and children. I shall say nothing of the manners of the inhabitants till my arrival at Ingiga, which will I hope be in a few days. Before I left the village, I saw a dozen baidars, or boats, of different sizes, similar to the one I mentioned upon coming out of Khaluli8, except that they were better constructed, and from their superior lightness, had the advantage in sailing. I admired also their remarkable breadth. Many of these baidars would hold from twentyfive to thirty persons. From the moment of our arrival, M. Schmaleff had foreseen that he should not be able to accompany me from this village. Beset evening and morning by the whole detachment of soldiers, who came to acquaint him with the urgency of their wants, he considered it as his duty not to abandon them, but to employ all the means which his office and his perfect knowledge of the country afforded him for procuring them assistance. He was equally impatient with myself to get to Ingiga, where his brother had long expected him: but he resolved nevertheless to let me depart without him. He informed me of this circumstance with regret, and gave me at the same time a confidential soldier, named YegorGolikoff9. He made me, he said, in this man a valuable present; and we shall find in the sequel that he was not deceived. This kindness increased the reluctance I felt at being obliged so soon to leave this good and gallant officer. My gratitude would lead me to repeat in this place, what the English have written of his humanity and politeness; but I leave to count de la Perouse the pleasure of acquitting the debt which every individual in the expedition owes to M. Schmaleff, for his assiduity in rendering it, while at Saint Peter and Saint Pauls, all the services that were in his power. I came out of Kaminoi at eight oclock in the morning of the 26, the weather being tolerably calm10. At the distance of fifteen wersts, I again met with the chain of mountains which I had before passed on this side of the village. I traversed them a second time, and then crossed a river called Chestokova, from a subaltern officer of that name, who had been killed there at the head of a detachment sent to keep the revolted Koriacs in awe. Under advantage of the night the Koriacs had taken them by surprise upon the border of this river, and had not suffered an individual to escape: all the Russians were massacred. I halted in the same place. I was roused from my sleep by the gusts of wind that blew with extreme violence. The clouds of snow obscured the air to a degree, that it was not easy to distinguish if it were day. In spite of this dreadful hurricane I resolved to proceed; but I could not prevail on my guides to make even the attempt. They persisted in not quitting the place, from the apprehension of losing their way, and encountering other dangers in such bad weather. Opposed on all sides, I retired to my tent in no very pleasant humour. At noon I was agreeably consoled by the arrival of seven Tchoukchis. They were in sledges, similar to those of the wandering Koriacs, and drawn in like manner by rein deer. I received them under my tent, and invited them to remain till the storm was dissipated. Nothing could have flattered them more, as I judged from the air of satisfaction which my offer imparted to the countenance of every individual. Among these Tchoukchis was the chief of the horde, called Tumm. He addressed himself to me in order to express the gratitude they felt for the reception I gave them. He assured me that ever since they had heard of me, they had desired nothing so ardently as my acquaintance, and had been greatly alarmed lest they should lose the opportunity. He added, that they would never forget either my person or my kindnesses, and that they would give an exact account of every thing to their countrymen. I answered with a profusion of thanks, informing them that I had been already made acquainted with their obliging curiosity, and that I had not been less desirous of the present interview. After this preface, we talked upon general subjects, particularly upon their country and mine. My curiosity was equal to theirs, and the time passed in perpetual questions. As I told them that, in returning to France, I must pass through the town that was the residence of their sovereign, they begged me to give her a faithful account of them, and to lay at her feet the tribute of their respect and submission. They added, that they were by so much the more happy in being tributaries of Russia, as they every day found the Russians more easy of access, and more affectionate in their behaviour. They spoke with particular commendation of M. Gaguen, governor of Ingiga. The kindness they had experienced, made them regret the want of opportunity to maintain a more frequent intercourse with the Russians. The only mode, they said, of surmounting these difficulties, would be for the subjects of the Czarina to form afresh their establishment upon the river Anadir. They promised for the future that, far from giving any interruption to the settlers, they would exert themselves by every office of friendship to make them forget the injustice of their past conduct. That conduct had originated in an error, under which they laboured as well as the Koriacs, in having formerly figured to themselves the Russians as consisting only of that small number of individuals, who came in this adventurous manner to plant themselves in their territory and neighbourhood. By a natural sentiment of jealousy, they had regarded these emigrants as so many adversaries, whose industry and activity were the objects of their suspicion; and they conceived that nothing could be of more importance to them than to rid themselves of the intruders, persuaded that in exterminating the settlers they should destroy the race. The Tchoukchis professed to have discovered their mistake, and their folly as soon as they had been properly acquainted with the Russians. It was in vain that they were now persuaded to revolt, they being on the contrary disposed to counteract the seditious intrigues of a prince, or chief of the Tchoukchis, whose residence was fixed, by name Kherourgui, either by curtailing his authority, or even by delivering him up to the Russians. Not being able to conceive in what part of the world I was born, they asked me if my country were not on the other side of the great river. Before I answered them, I desired to know the meaning of their question; and I found they imagined that beyond Russia, with which country itself they had little acquaintance, there was a very large river that divided them from another country inhabited by different people. It was not easy to instruct them upon this subject. I talked a long while without their understanding a single word of my geographical dissertation. They had no accurate idea either of number or extension. It was not less difficult to give them a notion of the strength of a state, or the riches and power of its sovereign. They had never attempted an estimation even of that of Russia. That I might enable them to judge of it, I was obliged to illustrate the abundance of its commodities, its money, and its population, by comparisons drawn from the number of animals they hunted, and the quantity of fish they caught every year, without destroying the breed. This explanation, which I exerted all my ability to make level to their capacities, extremely pleased them. I adopted the same method to give them a notion of the way measure extension. I began with the ground that my tent covered, and the taking a sheet of paper, drew a sort of geographical chart, in which I marked pretty nearly the situation and distances of Russia and France, with respect to their country. It was not without some labour that I made myself understood. But for this I was indemnified by the eagerness and attention with which they listened to me. In general I was astonished at the solidity of their understanding, and the thirst they felt for the acquisition of knowledge. Superior in these respects to the Koriacs, they appear both to respect more upon what they say themselves, and what they hear and behold. These two people have nearly the same idiom; the only difference is, that I found in the Tchoukchis a habit of prolonging the final syllables of words, and a pronunciation slower and sweeter than that of the Koriacs. With the assistance of my guide, who served me for an interpreter, I kept up the conversation tolerably well. The attention with which I examined their dress, inspired them with a desire of seeing the French habit11, and I ordered my uniform to be taken out of my portmanteau. At sight of it they expressed admiration in every part of their attitude. Every one was eager to touch it, every one exclaimed upon its singularity and its beauty. My buttons, marked with the arms of France, were particularly inspected, and it was necessary anew to exert my ingenuity to describe to them intelligibly, what this figure represented, and what was its use. But they did not allow me to finish. They eagerly reached out their hands, and intreated me to divide them among them. I consented, upon the promise they gave me to preserve them with extreme care. Their object in keeping them, was to employ them as a mark of affection, which they might shew to all the strangers that touched upon their coast, in hopes that among the rest there might possibly arrive a Frenchman. Their countrymen had seen the English some years before. Why, said they, do not the French also visit us? They might depend upon being received by us with cheerfulness and cordiality. I thanked them for their obliging disposition, and represented to them that the distance was an insuperable obstacle, and would not permit us to put their kindness often to the proof. Meanwhile I promised to give a faithful representation of it upon my arrival in France. After regaling them in the best manner I could with tobacco, having nothing that could afford them greater pleasure, we parted upon the best terms of friendship. Upon leaving me, they said, that I should probably soon met their equipages and their wives, whom they had left behind in order to make the greater haste. The wind became calm shortly after the departure of these Tchoukchis, and I pursued my journey. The next day, at the very moment when I was about to stop, upon seeing a convenient place by the side of a wood, I perceived farther on before me a numerous troop of rein deer browsing at liberty upon the top of a mountain. Upon examining them more attentively, I distinguished some men who appeared to be guarding them. I hesitated at first whether I should avoid, or join them; but curiosity at length prevailed, and I advanced to reconnoitre them. By proceeding along the skirts of the wood I was told I should come up with them. I conceived however that at the extremity I should be still separated from them by a river, a small arm of which I had crossed a quarter of an hour before: at this place it was tolerably wide. While I was examining these people from one bank to the other, I was approached by two women who were walking about. The eldest accosted me. How great was my surprise to hear both her and her companion speak the Russian language! They informed me that I was but two hundred yards from the camp of the Tchoukchis, the view of which was intercepted by the wood. As soon indeed as I got down to the side of the river I could see their sledges and their tents, and I entreated these women to conduct me thither. As we went on, I asked them of what country they were, their language telling me that they were neither born, nor had always lived among these people. One of them informed me that she was a Russian, and had been induced to accompany the Tchoukchis from a sentiment of maternal affection. Dangers, fatigues, ill treatment, she had braved every thing, from the sole motive of reclaiming her daughter, who was retained by them as an hostage. She had lost her in the following manner. This young woman was travelling, two years before, with her father and a number of other Russians upon the river Pengina. Their caravan, consisting of nine persons, was proceeding quietly along in the midst of the Koriacs, threatened at that time by a party of Tchoukchis, headed by this very Kherourgui whom we just now mentioned. To get rid of their dangerous neighbours, the Koriacs conceived the design of informing the Tchoukchis of the passage of these strangers12, as a prize that ought not to escape them. The artifice succeeded. Seduced by the expectation of an immense booty in iron and tobacco, the Tchoukchis followed these travellers. Their courage could not save them, and four of them, with their arms in their hands, became the victims of a fruitless resistance. The husband of this woman was killed in defending his daughter, whom the conquerors carried off with the three remaining companions of her misfortune. The Russians had incessantly demanded the surrender of these prisoners, and the Tchoukchis had promised to send them back; but only two of them had yet been released. The affecting recital of this unfortunate mother, which was frequently interrupted by her tears, interested me strongly in her favour. Without knowing whether the mediation would have any weight with the Tchoukchis, I felt myself disposed to join my intreaties to hers, and I had the satisfaction to perceive that they were not nugatory. The other woman told me that she was by birth a Tchoukchi. In her infancy she had been taken by the Russians upon the river Anadir, and carried to Yakoutsk, where they had given her the best education in their power. She afterwards married a soldier, by whom she was in a few years left a widow. At length, by order of government, she was sent back to her own country with her children, to render an account of the obligations that she owed to the Russians. It had been recommended to her to give the minutest details to the Tchoukchis, even such as lived to the greatest distance13, and insinuate to them the innumerable advantages they might derive from establishing a safe and peaceable commerce with the Russians. This woman spoke the Russian, the Yakout, and the Tchoukchi languages with equal facility. She told me, that the little knowledge she derived from her education, had gained her a sort of credit with her compatriots; that she had already taken advantage of her ascendancy over their minds, to destroy several of their prejudices; and she flattered herself that by degrees they would be taught to see their interest in its true light. Her hopes were chiefly founded upon the character of this people, which she assured me was perfectly generous, hospitable, mild, and preferable in every respect to that of the Koriacs. The conversation of these women had so engrossed my attention, that I was in the camp of the Tchoukchis before I perceived it. Their joy at seeing me was extreme, and I was surrounded in an instant. They all addressed themselves to me at once, to prevail on me to spend the night with them. I had no sooner answered that it was my intention, than they saluted me with new transports and huzzas. I ordered my tent to be erected at the extremity of the camp, and while it was performing I invited the chiefs to visit me. Eager to accept my invitation, they could not wait till I had entered my tent, and I found a more numerous assembly than it could contain. After the first compliments were over, we entered into conversation, mutually desirous of receiving information. We talked in a summary way of our respective countries, manners, and customs; and the questions they asked me were nearly similar to those of Tumm and his companions. They expressed their submission to Russia, their desire of forming an alliance with that country by means of a commercial intercourse, and of seeing the establishment upon the Anadir revived. They then entered into particulars upon the motives of their journey. Their principal inducement was to visit some relations who had intermarried with the Russians, and settled at Ingiga. They had also, it was probable, some commercial project in view, though from their own account, attachment to their countrymen was their only motive; and in reality, this patriotic sentiment was visible I thought in their attention to this Tchoukchi woman, and the caresses they bestowed upon her children. They frequently entreated me to banish all distrust from my mind, and to rely upon their friendship. They seemed to suppose that I partook of the reserve which the Russians discovered in their intercourse with them; but not having the same reasons to fear them, I was a stranger to suspicion. I wished them to understand this by my answer, which was, that being unwilling to offend any individual I might meet with in my way, I imagined that no one would be desirous of incommoding me, particularly in the midst of a nation whose civility and rectitude were already known to me. This mode of reasoning pleased them, and they appeared to be flattered by my security. I conceived of course that I ought to conceal my arms, and reject the proposal made by my soldiers of placing a centinel before my tent. I distributed tobacco to the most distinguished of these Tchoukchis, and afterwards treated them with tea and rye biscuit. Their chief, or prince, named Chegouiaga, of the same rank and authority as Tumm, two of his relations, and the two women who served as interpreters, supped with me. The repast was perfectly frugal but very gay, and my guests were as well pleased as if they had fared ever so sumptuously. The necessity of taking rest obliged us to separate. As soon as I was alone, I embraced the opportunity of writing down the notes with which their conversation and my own observations had furnished me. The camp of these Tchoukchis was pitched upon the border of the river, by the side of their equipages, and at the back of the wood which I mentioned. It contained about a dozen tents ranged in a line along the bank. They were of a square form, and made of rein deer skin, suspended by leathern straps to four poles erected at the four corners. Bundles of spears and arrows, fixed in the snow before every tent, seem to guard the entrance14, which is very low, and shuts hermetically. The tents are extremely hot. The partitions and the covering being made of deer skin, the air cannot penetrate, and there is besides a stove in the middle of each of them. The bed resembles that of the Kamtschadales when they halt, and consists of small branches of trees spread on the snow like litter, and covered with deer skins. Here a whole family will lie down and sleep together without distinction of age or sex. The space is so narrow that it is astonishing how so many people can crowd into it. The air and filthiness occasioned by it are insupportable; let it suffice to say, that they feel no disgust at seeing their food and their drink close to the most offensive objects, for no words can describe the excess of their indolence. Among these Tchoukchis, whose number amounted to about forty, there were fifteen or sixteen women15, and nearly as many children, who are employed in preparing the tents and provisions. Every principal person has valets in his service to take care of the deer, and guard them during the night from the wolves with which these coasts abound. The dress of the women is very remarkable. It consists of a single deer skin that is fastened round the neck, where it has an opening both before and behind, and which descends in the shape of large breeches below the knee. This garment is put on by means of the opening at the neck, and there is no other way of taking it off but by loosening the strings which tie it under the chin, when it instantly falls from the body, and leaves the woman naked. The inconvenience of this habit may easily be imagined, from the frequent necessity there must be of divesting themselves of it. When they travel, they wear a kouklanki over their common dress, and their feet have no other covering than boots made of the legs of rein deer. Their hair is of a deep black. Sometimes it is turned up in tufts behind, but it is oftener separated upon the forehead, and hangs in long braids on each side. Their ears and their neck are loaded with ornaments of glass beads of different colours; and when they are cold, the hood of their parque serves them for a headdress. Their countenance is by no means agreeable; the features are coarse, though their nose is not flat, nor their eyes sunk in their head like the Kamtschadales. They resemble them in these respects less than do the Koriac women. They are also taller, but not slender. The thickness and bulk of their dress give them an appearance the very opposite to alert. In the mean time they perform the most laborious offices, such as lighting fire, cutting wood, fetching water, and other things required in their domestic conomy. These cares devolve principally upon the oldest. The features of the men seemed to be more regular, and not at all Asiatic. Their complexion, like that of the women, is very tawny; and their dress, their sledges, and in short, all their customs are exactly similar to those of the wandering Koriacs. I shall take an opportunity of describing them together. These Tchoukchis at present go every year to Ingiga. They leave their country in the beginning of autumn, and do not arrive at this settlement till March. As soon as their business is transacted, which only requires a few days, they set out upon their return, that they may not lose the advantage of travelling in sledges; but they seldom reach their home till the latter end of June. The merchandise they take with them consists chiefly of sable and foxskin parques, and moose teeth, which afford a very fine ivory. They receive in exchange kettles, tobacco, lances, musquets, knives, and other iron instruments. As yet they are little accustomed to the musquet, and scarcely make any use of it; but they are very expert in shooting an arrow, and managing a lance, which are therefore their principal arms. Like all the northern people, they have an astonishing propensity to drunkenness. Their love of brandy is so extreme, that if you once let them taste it, you must repeat your kindness till they are perfectly intoxicated, or they would consider themselves as insulted, and probably have recourse to menaces and violence, to obtain their ends. As incessant smokers as the Koriacs, they have the same pipes and the same method of using them. Being unwilling to prolong my stay, I went as soon as it was light to take leave of these Tchoukchis in their tents, but the unwholesome air and the heat soon obliged me to withdraw. Our parting was very affectionate; each in his turn overwhelmed me with embraces. It may be supposed I did not fall short in my compliments, nor could I in reality too highly extol the reception of this hospitable people. I set off early enough to travel this day thirty wersts. About half way I found upon the sea coast two balagans and a yourt, inhabited by a Koriac family, and an hour after I reached the ostrog of Parein. This village is less than Kaminoi, but more populous and well situated. It is upon a river, from which it takes its name, and about three wersts from where it pours its waters into the sea of Pengina, which forms at this place so narrow a gulf, that in clear weather one can see from one shore to the other. The first person I saw in the village was an old woman of a mixed breed, whose melancholy appearance struck me. Either from compassion or curiosity, I instantly approached her. Upon my questioning her respecting the cause of her distress, she uttered a loud shriek, and answered me only by her tears. My intreaties, and the sympathy I discovered, at last drew from her the recital of her misfortune. About a fortnight before, she had left Ingiga with her husband, her son, and a number of friends, to visit some relations at Parein. Overtaken in their way by one of those terrible hurricanes, whose fatal effects I have been twenty times upon the verge of experiencing, these travellers had strayed from the road, and been separated from one another. The father and son were in the same sledge. Having wandered a long time in pursuit of a shelter, or to discover some vestiges of the road, they were at length totally lost. After two days search, they were found buried in the snow, and dead with cold. Their bodies were completely frozen, and their posture indicated, that these two unfortunate beings, no longer able to drag themselves on, had lain down close together to keep themselves warm, and died in each others arms. More successful than her husband, this woman had found a shelter by the side of a river, fifteen wersts from Parein, where she had arrived with her companions, exhausted with fatigue, and half dead with grief. She added, that during this tempest it was impossible to see either the heavens or the earth. The snow, frozen in the air, grew thicker as it fell, and was like a shower of icicles. Their clothes had been so pierced by it as to be perfectly useless. But what still increased this womans affliction, was the inability in which she found herself of returning to her country. No person seemed disposed to supply her with the means, which she continually solicited, but without effect. Upon this she burst into a flood of tears. I said every thing that compassion suggested to me to console her; and quitted her with regret, at not being able to afford her any relief, and showing her only a fruitless pity. While I was conversing with her, the inhabitants of Parein crowded about me. Their chief or prince, called Youltitka, approached to invite me to pass the night in the village. His sinister countenance confirmed every thing that had been said of his perfidy, and I gave him to understand, that I had no desire to stop. Upon my refusal, he mentioned the impossibility of procuring me dogs and provisions till the next morning. The reasons he assigned plainly discovered his ill will16, and betrayed, I thought, some fatal intention. Resolved to escape, whatever it might cost me, I replied, that I could very well do without what I was unable to obtain, but that no consideration should induce me to stay. He feigned not to comprehend me, and alledged some new obstacle, regarding me at the same time with a bitter smile, that seemed to defy me to proceed. I felt that I must arm myself with the utmost firmness, or patiently submit to whatever law it might please this wretch to impose upon me. The whole village was present. Two hundred men at least pressed tumultuously about me, either to inspire me with terror, or to observe my embarassment. In this perilous conjuncture, I conceived the design of addressing myself to them in the Russian language, hoping that there might be some among them who would understand me, and who might be less unmanageable than their chief. My harangue was short, but vehement. I enforced the consideration of my character as a stranger, my claims upon their assistance, my desire of meriting it by my behaviour towards them, and the kindness I had received from their countrymen in the course of my journey. I added, that except in the present instance, I had never had occasion to demand the succours of which I stood in need; far from waiting till I produced my orders, they had showed the utmost readiness to anticipate my wishes, before I could make them known. At the mention of the word order, I perceived that they looked with a kind of astonishment upon one another. In proportion as my address made an impression upon them, I assumed more warmth and assurance. Then drawing on a sudden my passport from my pocket, and fixing my eyes with an air of displeasure upon Youltitka, I presented it to him, declaring at the same time that I meaned to depart in two hours at latest. This abrupt conclusion disconcerted him. He perceived that he could not avoid complying with my wishes, without rendering himself criminal; and the mandate of the governor was too formal and too authoritative for him to dare to oppose it. He therefore ordered that the quantity of fish which I wanted, should immediately be collected, intreating me at the same time to have some regard to the smallness of their stock, which I should very considerably diminish. It was this idea, he said, that had induced him to make any difficulties, as he was afraid that I should totally exhaust their caves. This was a mere subterfuge, as I was soon convinced that they were abundantly stored. In the mean time, that he might be thought desirous of making some amends for his uncivil reception, or perhaps with a view of making me repent the having forced him in his last intrenchments, he invited me to wait in his yourt, till my people had made the necessary preparations for my departure. To refuse would have shown a degree of inquietude; I wished, on the contrary, fully to convince him of my intrepidity. It was besides the hour for dining, and with the hope of imperceptibly gaining the traitor, I accepted his invitation, offering to treat him with a better repast than it was in his power to provide for me. I followed him with a countenance as tranquil as if I had felt myself in perfect security. To speak the truth, however, I was not without trouble, when, upon coming to his yourt, I found it necessary to descend forty feet under ground. The extraordinary depth of this retreat delivered me entirely to the mercy of my host. My companions could neither have heard nor assisted me. I shuddered at my own imprudence, but it was too late to draw back. I was well armed, and I prepared to defend myself as well as I could in case of an insult. The first care of Youltitka was to seat me in the place of honour, that is, in a kind of alcove reserved for the chief of the family. His was a very numerous one, nearly eighty persons living with him in this yourt. They had all deserted it upon the report of my arrival, and were still about my people, so that I was alone to contend with three or four companions or relations of Youltitka, who surrounded me, thrusting their noses almost in my face. Supposing themselves to be adepts in the Russian language, because they were able to murder a few words, they asked me, in turn, a variety of questions, each more absurd than the preceding. My situation dictated politeness, and I answered them with mildness and precision. I thus passed an hour in the midst of these savage figures, truly calculated to inspire dread, particularly that of their chief17. My soldier did not make his appearance, and I began to be uneasy. Upon a motion which I made to come out, these Koriacs placed themselves before me. One of them caught hold of my arm to make me sit down, asking me if I wanted to escape. I endeavoured to look as stoutly as I could, but I confess my heart palpitated. I again took my seat; and in spite of the alteration which they might perceive in my face, I replied, that I did not imagine I had any reason to fear them. Youltitka then endeavoured to excite my confidence. He swore that he had the highest esteem for me, and that I was in perfect safety. His past conduct, he added, might have given me reason to suspect his character, but he considered it as a point of honour to set me right. Proud of having been received among the judges of the tribunal of Ingiga18, he valued his reputation too much to suffer any one to treat me ill in his presence. I knew my man too well to place any faith in these asseverations, and I considered myself as happy that he dared not do what was in his power, and probably what was in his heart. I hastened therefore to quit the yourt, upon the pretext of seeking for my people, and giving them orders for dinner. I could not however rid myself of this treacherous Koriac. He persisted in accompanying me. Every word I uttered seemed to alarm him. Not understanding the Russian language, he immediately asked the meaning of what I said, and watched all my motions with singular attention. I found my people occupied in bartering the bad dogs they had left, for furs, and articles of dress made of rein deerskin. Their avarice had made them forgetful of what I had recommended to them, and the danger in which they had left me; but I concealed my displeasure on account of my witnesses. I again descended the yourt, accompanied by Youltitka and my two soldiers, who began immediately to prepare our dinner. The women assisted them in cleaning the dishes19; and with the help of brandy, good humour gradually succeeded to fears and distrust. Our repast was very jovial, and I frequently endeavoured to imitate my guests in their loud peals of laughter, outrageous expression of sentiment being the only thing that pleases them. The dinner being finished, I sent one of my soldiers to order the dogs to be harnessed, a part of which was a fresh supply. My provisions were also ready, and in ten minutes I was prepared to take leave of my Koriacs. They appeared to be satisfied with me; I know not whether they were really so, but I acknowledge as to myself that I was glad to escape from them, and I set off therefore as quick as possible. It was only two oclock in the afternoon; but I conceived that I ought to make up for the forced delay I had experienced, and did not therefore halt till I was fifteen wersts from Parein. This day and the next, which was the 30, afforded nothing that was worth reciting. I crossed a variety of rivers, not one of which was considerable, but there were a few shrubs on the banks of some of them. Upon leaving Parein I had quitted the sea, and should see no more of it on this side of Ingiga, of consequence we had no chance of procuring dry wood, which we sometimes found while we travelled upon the coast. This was a considerable loss to us, from the necessity to which it reduced us of gathering every little shrub we could perceive, and the fear that even this paltry resource might fail us. For a long time my principal food had been rein deer. Delicious as this meat is, there is I believe none of which one is so soon tired. The worst circumstance however was, that our stock began to be exhausted. We only eat of it once a day; our other meals consisted of dried fish and the flesh of the sea wolf boiled. I was highly gratified this day by a brace of partridges, which I had the good fortune to kill, and which were added to my table. This gave an agreeable relief to the tedious uniformity of my daily food. The day was beautiful, and a clear sky seemed to promise us colder weather, which was what we wished, the snow being so soft that our dogs sunk to their bellies. To open a way for them, each of us was obliged to run before with our rackets. The hope that the next day would afford us better travelling, animated my guides, and we made tolerable speed. It was late when we stopped at a place that was not at all sheltered; there was no wood except a sort of dwarf cedar, resinous, crooked, and grovelling. Before I retired to my tent, I perceived at the horizon some illboding clouds. I had been sufficiently habituated to the climate to be able to judge of the weather from the most trivial appearances, and I communicated my conjectures to my guides. They considered their knowledge in this respect as infinitely superior to mine, and replied, that the setting sun had been too beautiful to give us any reason to apprehend foul weather. According to their own account they were never deceived, and I might implicitly rely upon their judgment. Upon reflection I was not sorry to find them in this security, as it relieved me from the fear of being constrained by them to pass the day in this place, which would not be tenable against the first gust of wind. As soon as it was light I was waked by one of my guides, who, in a tone of raillery, came to hasten my departure, that we might not lose the advantage of the fine day we were likely to have. The moon still shone, and the sky was without a cloud. While I was at breakfast, as usual, upon tea and rye biscuit, which my people had reserved for me, willing rather to want it themselves than that I should be without it, they questioned me one after another respecting the weather. It was a contest who should banter me most. I persevered however in my opinion, desiring them to wait till the evening before they judged whether I was right or wrong in prognosticating a storm. We had scarcely broke up our camp, when we perceived at some distance a company consisting of five Koriac sledges, drawn by rein deer. Our dogs, allured by the scent of these animals, advanced towards them with astonishing ardour. The nearer we approached, the more these Koriacs seemed to avoid us. I imagined at first that it was the natural effect of their distrust, but the cry and eagerness of our dogs, soon told me what was the source of their terror. They would infallibly have rushed upon them if they had been more at liberty. I ordered my guides therefore to halt. The difficulty was to restrain our steeds, which we did not effect without considerable exertion. We then endeavoured by signs to make the Koriacs understand that we were desirous of a moments conversation with them. They appeared to hold a consultation, and after a few minutes one of their company was dispatched to us. He stopped about three hundred yards from us, and desired us in like manner by signs to send also one of our body, and particularly to keep back our dogs. I ordered one of my soldiers to go with his rackets to meet this Koriac, and to ask him whence they came, whither they were bound, if they knew any thing relative to M. Kasloff, and what distance they imagined us to be from Ingiga. In the course of half an hour my messenger came back with the following information. These people were wandering Koriacs, returning to their families from Ingiga, where they had been to see their friends and sell their deer skins. They had heard they thought of a supply of dogs and provisions being sent a short time since to the governorgeneral, but they could give us no certain intelligence. Their account of our distance from Ingiga corresponded with the opinion of my guide, whom I had just before interrogated upon the subject, in consequence of a new debate between my people and me. It originated thus. While we waited the return of the soldier, I observed some clouds pass rapidly over our heads, the form and direction of which confirmed me in the idea that we were threatened by an approaching tempest. My confidential soldier, Golikoff, had been equally incredulous with the rest, and readily defended the contrary opinion; in the mean time he agreed that at present there was every appearance that my predictions would be verified; he had even mentioned me, he said, to the Koriacs, as a prophet in this respect, and he should be sorry to see me mistaken in the very first instance, and lose my credit. This simple avowal was the more diverting to me, as my conductors were witnesses to it. It suggested to me the desire of amusing myself in my turn with their ignorant simplicity. The opportunity was favourable. I repeated, that in two hours at latest, they would be convinced of my knowledge, but that it was first necessary I should be informed whether we should meet with any place of shelter in our way. One of them answered me in the negative. Till we came to the river Ingiga, we had to traverse an immense and naked plain, where the eye could merely discern a few inequalities, occasioned by the soil, or the snow drifted by the hurricanes, and congealed by the frost. This intelligence embarassed me, apprehensive that we should be compelled to return for shelter to a little wood which we had just passed. We were scarcely half a league from it, but the obstinacy of my guides in support of the opinion that we had nothing to fear, removed the difficulty. Imboldened by their supposed experience, they were desirous that we should proceed. I agreed with them, hoping to arrive at Ingiga in the evening. To execute my project with greater certainty, I intended to have recourse to my compass, which would be a sufficient guide in the midst of the whirlwinds. I asked therefore, the most intelligent of my conductors in what direction Ingiga lay, and he made it known to me immediately by pointing out at a great distance a mountain, the summit of which seemed to be lost in the clouds. The town, said he, is a little on this side, and in the same line. We are as yet fifty or fiftyfive wersts from it. I interrupted him to examine in what point of the compass it was, and to calculate with my watch the pace we travelled. From the time we sat out we had gone at the rate of six or seven wersts an hour, but I considered that the hurricane would considerably impede us, and I counted therefore only upon three wersts. It was now six oclock in the morning, and according to my calculation, I hoped to be at Ingiga before midnight. I learned also from my guide, that to gain the river which led to the town, it was first necessary that we should arrive at a very large forest through which it flowed. I was satisfied. The immense extent of this wood to the right and left, convinced me that we could not lose ourselves or miss finding it. Having taken these precautions, I told my people that I desired nothing better than to proceed, and that I was resolved not to stop, whatever might happen. I recommended to them to inform me when they thought that they had lost their way, and I would then set them right. The seriousness with which I gave this order, confounded them; they looked at each other with an air of astonishment, not daring to tell me in plain terms that I was out of my senses. The most intrepid of them however, addressed himself to me, and represented, that having never passed this way, it was impossible I could undertake to guide them, without running the risk of entirely losing them, and that I was certainly in jest. I made no other reply than ordering every one to his sledge, threatening to punish whoever should disobey, and I immediately gave the signal to depart. At half after eight we had advanced fifteen wersts, and according to my estimate had only forty remaining; but the horizon had been for almost an hour covered with dark clouds. We saw the tempest gradually approach, and the wind began to raise the snow in eddies. My companions were silent. Terror acted upon them almost as strongly as their confusion, and they knew no longer where they were. The hurricane soon attacked us with a violence that deranged several of our sledges. By dint of vociferation we rallied them. My conductors confessed themselves conquered, and conjured me to halt, though we were in the open country. Blinded by the wind, which blew in their faces, they were afraid of misleading us. I reminded them of my promise, and persisted in wishing to go on. I ordered that all the sledges should keep as close as possible together, that we might be informed of the least accident that should happen, and be able to assist one another. Then, by means of my compass, which I had fastened under my fur cloak, that it might be continually before my eyes, I began the office of directing our caravan. We travelled in this order during the rest of the day, and I might say in the midst of darkness, for I could not see the soldier who was in the sledge immediately behind me, and scarcely his foremost dogs. About seven oclock in the evening, weary of the complaints and remonstrances of my people, who continually requested me to stop, and judging beside that we could not be more than five or six wersts from the wood, I assured them that if we did not reach it by nine oclock, we would go no farther that night; unless when arrived at the wood and the river, they preferred going on, as we should be so near to Ingiga; but that they should be at liberty to do as they pleased. This condition appeared to pacify them; not because they imagined themselves to be so far advanced, on the contrary, they probably considered themselves as out of the road, and only wished to repose themselves, that with the advantage of daylight they might recover it again. At a quarter before nine a kind of dark veil began to be perceptible before us. As we drew nearer, it became blacker and more extensive. The next moment my conductors cried out that they could see the trees, and that they were safe. It was in reality the forest of Ingiga. I sent them a little way on to examine it, and they presently returned transported with joy to tell me that we were close to the river. The respectful tone with which they delivered themselves diverted me extremely. After thanking me for having guided them so well, the Koriac asserted that none of their chamans had ever performed any thing so miraculous. To have predicted the bad weather, at a time when every thing seemed in their eyes to promise the very reverse; to have been afterwards able to guide and preserve them in the midst of this pourga20, was a sagacity, in his opinion, supernatural. The gratitude of the rest of my company was almost equally absurd. They could not recover themselves from their astonishment. It was in vain I showed them my compass, and endeavoured to explain to them how I derived from it all my knowledge; they replied, that such a conjuring book was unintelligible except to persons like me, skilled in the art of magic. At so short a distance from Ingiga, I was fully assured they would no longer be desirous of stopping; each of them was anxious to see his wife, and embrace his children. So far were they from accepting my proposal to pitch our tent and pass the night in the wood, that they importuned me to gain the river, and they engaged in three hours to reach the town. I complied, and we coasted along the bank till we arrived opposite to Ingiga, where it was necessary to cross the river, which passed close to the walls. The ice was sufficiently firm, but the violence of the wind had covered it with water, so that our feet were very wet. At the gates of the town I answered the interrogatories usual in fortified places, and was obliged to wait till a report was made to the governor. Having long received intelligence that I was on my way, major Gaguen had the civility to come immediately to welcome me, and offer me his house. I entered Ingiga the 31, exactly at half after eleven oclock. This town is the largest and most populous I have yet seen. It is situated upon a river of the same name, thirty wersts from its mouth, and is defended by a square inclosure of palisades, the height and thickness of which surprised me, and by wooden bastions, erected on piles, at the four angles. These bastions are provided with cannon, and contain a variety of warlike stores. They are guarded day and night by centinels21, as are also the three gates of the town, of which one only is open. There is a small square, before the house of the governor, and a guard, stationed on one side of this square, defends it from attack. I was equally struck with the houses. They are of wood, and very low, but have all a regular front, and are evidently built upon one plan. M. Gaguen intends by degrees to give this uniformity to the whole town. The isbas that have been constructed since his arrival, besides a pleasant appearance, have all the conveniences on the inside that such habitations will admit of. He has it in contemplation also to rebuild the church, which is a wretched edifice, and almost in ruins. The population amounts to about five or six hundred inhabitants, who are either merchants, or in the service of government. The latter are most numerous, and form the garrison of the place. They are kept under the severest discipline, which is indispensible, from the frequent occasion there is to defend themselves. The circumspection and zeal of the governor in this respect cannot be surpassed. Their tribunals are the same with those of Nijenei Kamtschatka. The commerce of Ingiga consists of furs, and particularly the skins of rein deer. It is in general superior to Kamtschatka both in the variety and quality of its skins. It is true that we get the otter and sea wolfskin from that peninsula, but the sables of Ingiga are much finer, though they are at the same time scarcer. The Kamtschadales besides have no common martens22, rabbits, or American rats, called rissei, which the Koriacs get by means of exchange from the neighbouring Tchoukchis, and which they bring to Ingiga with their rein deerskins. These deerskins are sold in their raw state, and at a very good price. They are afterwards tanned and manufactured with such surprising art, that the laborious activity of the workmen supersede the necessity of instruments invented by European industry. The skill and beauty of their work can only be surpassed by its durableness. Gloves and stockings come from their hands in a state of perfection. Their sewings and embroideries are wrought with the hair of the rein deer, with silk, and with gold, and would do credit to our most skillful glovers. But it is time I should speak of the customs of the Koriacs. I have only deferred my account so long that I might be more minute. To the imperfect observations which I have myself made in passing through their different ostrogs, I shall add others that are more exact, and derived from unquestionable authority. In my conversations with M. Gaguen and the principal inhabitants, I endeavoured to derive some light upon the subject; but my chief source of information was a Koriac, whom I shall here introduce to the reader. My first acquaintance with him was at Kaminoi. Struck with the civilities which M. Schmaleff bestowed upon him, I was curious to know the rank and situation of this personage. He was, they informed me, a zassdatel, or Ingiga judge, and was come to meet us to offer us his services. The facility with which he expressed himself in the Russian language, and the rectitude of his mind charmed me. I should have taken him for a Russian, if I had not heard him a moment after speak his native tongue. I understood also that he was a Koriac prince, called Oumiavin, and brother to one of the chiefs of the wandering Koriacs. Curiosity led me to ask him a thousand questions. He answered with a shrewdness and sagacity that I had not observed in any of his countrymen. The being able to talk with him without the assistance of an interpreter, rendered his conversation more valuable, and during my short stay at Kaminoi it was a source of instruction and amusement to me. Of the various topics upon which we discoursed, that of religion was the most interesting. Though equally informed respecting the Russian and the Koriac mode of worship, he in reality professed neither. He seemed disposed however to be baptized, and only waited till he was better instructed upon certain points which he did not comprehend. Full of admiration at the sublimity of the Christian morals, and the majestic pomp of its external worship, he acknowledged that nothing could give him a greater desire to become a convert to it; but the imperious severity of some of our religious rites23, the uncertainty of celestial happiness, and particularly the idea of a God threatening eternal torments, filled him with inquietude and dismay. With all its visions and all its absurdities, the religion of his country, he said, offered him at least more hope than fear; its punishments were confined to the present world, and it promised him a recompence in the next; the evil spirit could only torment him during his life, and happiness awaited him at his death. Agitated by these considerations, his mind floated in continual doubt and perplexity. He dared neither abjure, nor continue stedfast in the faith of his fathers. He blushed at its errors, yet his heart cherished them. The simplicity with which he avowed his irresolution, interested me the more, as I could discover in his conversation and in his heart, an uncommon fund of virtue, and a singular love of truth. To fix his wavering mind, it would have been first necessary to clear away the prejudices that obscured it, and which had originated from the false principles that he had imbibed. Any other person would perhaps have undertaken the talk. I was deterred from it by the fear of not succeeding in my attempt, from the short time I should be able to spend with him. He arrived at Ingiga the day after me, as he had promised, and rendered me very considerable services by his endeavour to furnish all the information respecting his country that I desired, and to supply me with what I wanted for the continuance of my journey. There is in many respects a great resemblance between the fixed and the wandering Koriacs: we cannot therefore but wonder at the little cordiality, or rather at the misunderstanding that subsists among them, on account of which they may be considered as two different people. Their country however is the same, and takes in a vast extent, terminated to the south by the peninsula of Kamtschatka, and the gulf of Pengina; to the east by the country of the Oluterians; to the north by that of the Tchoukchis, and to the west by the Toungouses, the Lamouts, and the Yakouts. It is confidently asserted that this country was formerly very populous, but that the smallpox had made very considerable ravages. I doubt whether it has carried off more of the inhabitants than their frequent contests with their neighbours and with the Russians. The number of fixed Koriacs scarcely exceeds at present nine hundred; and though it is not easy to calculate that of the wandering Koriacs, it is imagined that they do not much surpass this amount. The manners of the former are the reverse of estimable, and are a mixture of duplicity mistrust, and avarice. They have all the vices of the northern nations of Asia, without the virtues. Robbers by nature, they are suspicious, cruel, incapable either of benevolence or pity. To procure the least service from them, it is first necessary to offer, and even to give them some recompence. Nothing but presents can excite their attention, or rouse their activity24. From this perfidious and savage disposition, it would not be easy for them to live in peace, or form any durable ties with their neighbours. So unsociable a spirit must also give them an abhorrence of all foreign dominion. Hence their continual insurrection against the Russians, their atrocious robberies, their daily incursions on the people who surround them; hence the respective animosities and revenge that incessantly spring up. This state of war foments in every individual a ferocious spirit. The practice of attacking, and of defending themselves, creates in them an inflexible courage that delights in perpetual combats, and glories in a contempt of life. Superstition lends its aid to ennoble in their eyes this thirst of blood, by imposing a law that obliges them to conquer or to die. The more important is the cause that calls them to arms, the more greedy are they of death. Neither the bravery, nor the number of their adversaries, can at all intimidate them: it is then they swear to destroy the sun. They discharge this terrible oath by cutting the throats of their wives and children, burning all their possessions, and rushing madly into the midst of their enemies. The combat can only terminate by the total destruction of one of the parties. The vanquished never seek their safety in flight; honour forbids it; and not a Koriac will survive the slaughter of his countrymen. The vicinity of the Russian settlements has hitherto produced no change in the mode of life of the resident Koriacs. Their commercial intercourse with the Russians, only renders them susceptible to the attraction of wealth, and desirous of plunder. Insensible to the advantages of a more polished life, they seem to feel a repugnance to civilization, and to consider their own manners and customs as absolutely perfect25. Their regular occupation is hunting and fishing; but every season will not permit them to follow it. During these intervals, shut up in their profound habitations, they sleep, smoke, and get drunk. Thoughtless of the future, without regret for the past, they come not out of their yourts till the most urgent necessity compels them. These yourts are larger than those of the northern Kamtschadales, but are distributed nearly in the same manner. I am not sure whether their filthiness be not still more disgusting: as there is neither door, nor joupan, or venthole, the smoke must be insufferable. These people, enemies to industry, live like the Kamtschadales upon dried fish, and the flesh and fat of the whale, and sea wolf26. The whale is commonly eaten raw, and the sea wolf dried and cooked in the same manner as their fish, except the sinews, the marrow, the brain, and now and then a slice of the flesh, which they devour raw with extreme avidity. Rein deer is their favourite dish. Vegetables also form a part of their food: they gather in autumn various sorts of berries, of a part of which they make themselves a refreshing beverage27, and the rest is bruised to powder, and kneaded with the oil of the whale, or sea wolf. This paste, or sweetmeat, is called toltchoukha; it is held in high esteem in this country, but nothing is to my taste more disagreeable. Their passion for strong liquors, increased by the dearness of brandy, and the difficulty of procuring it on account of their extreme distance, has led them to invent a drink, equally potent, which they extract from a red mushroom, known in Russia as a strong poison by the name of moukhamorr28. They put it in a vessel with certain fruits, and it has scarcely time to clarify when their friends are invited to partake of it. A noble emulation inflames the guests, and there is a contest of who is best able to disburden the master of the house of his nectar. The entertainment lasts for one, two, or three days, till the beverage is exhausted. Frequently, that they may not fail of being tipsy, they eat the raw mushroom at the same time. It is astonishing that there are not more examples of the fatal effects of this intemperance. I have seen however some amateurs made seriously ill, and recovered with difficulty; but experience does not correct them, and upon the first occasion that offers, they return to their brutish practice. It is not from absolute sensuality, it is not from the pleasure of drinking a liquor, that by its flavour creates an irresistible craving for more; they seek merely in these orgies a state of oblivion, of stupefaction, of total brutishness, a cessation of existence, if I may so call it, which constitutes their only enjoyment, and supreme felicity. The features of the majority of the Koriacs are not Asiatic, and they might be considered as Europeans, but for their low stature, their ill shape, and the colour of their skin. The other Koriacs have the same characteristic outlines as the Kamtschadales; among the women particularly, there are very few who have not sunk eyes, flat noses, and prominent cheeks. The men are almost entirely beardless, and have short hair. The hair of the women is very much neglected; it commonly flows upon their shoulders, though there are some who wear it in tufts, or wrapt up in an handkerchief. Their dress I have already described. The women carry their children in a sort of cradle, the form of which I thought singular. It is a kind of nest or basket arched over, in which the infant is placed in a sitting posture, and sheltered from the weather. Among their strange customs I shall mention the probation to which a young man subjects himself when he is desirous of marrying. As soon as he has fixed his choice, he waits upon the relations of his mistress, and offers to drudge for them, as the phrase is. The young lady is immediately enveloped in a multiplicity of garments, which conceal her to such a degree, that the face itself is scarcely visible. She is not left alone for a single instant; her mother, and a number of old matrons accompany her wherever she goes sleep with her, and do not lose her from their sight upon any pretext whatever. The aim of the lover, the point of happiness to which all his cares tend, is to touch her naked body, the only way by which he can obtain her. In the mean time he executes with zeal and submission all the functions that the relations impose on him. Become as it were the slave of the family, he is employed in all the domestic labours, to cut wood, fetch water, provide ice, c. Love, and the presence of his intended, inspire him with courage. If he relax, a single look, however indifferent, is sufficient to make him forget the fatigues and drudgery of his servitude. The hope of abridging its duration influences all his actions. His eye is invariably fixed on the idol of his heart, he watches her motions, follows her steps, and intrudes himself incessantly in her way. But how deceive the Argus eyes of the duennas that surrounded her! It is a continual contest of vigilance against cunning; each party acts with equal zeal and perseverance. From such assiduities, from the agitation of the lover, and the precautions that are taken to counteract his manuvres, one would suppose that he was about to carry off some extraordinary beauty. Who would imagine that the object of the thoughts and desires of this whining Koriac, was ugliness itself, and that he aspired to no other reward for so many exertions, than to touch a callous, yellow, greasy skin? In his leisure moments, at liberty to see and approach his mistress, he endeavours to merit her affection by some sly attempt to obtain a touch; but the number and thickness of her garments are an invincible barrier. Enraged at so many obstacles, he tears and pulls off this teazing dress. Woe betide him if he be surprised in his rash attack! The relations, the inexorable spies, dart upon him, and force him to relinquish his prize. It is commonly by the eloquence of the foot, or a stick, that they entreat him to withdraw, and find some better opportunity. If he resist, he is dragged by the hair, or the nails of these old hags are imprinted on his face. If he be disheartened, or murmurs at this cruel treatment, he is instantly dismissed, and forfeits for ever all claim to the alliance, which is considered as the most signal disgrace that can be inflicted on a Koriac lover. But difficulties only render his desires more vehement. Far from complaining, far from desponding at these rigorous proceedings, he considers himself as the more worthy of the felicity he has in view. He rejoices, he glories in all the tribulations he experiences during his amorous and painful servitude. It is frequently not till after the expiration of two or three years, more or less, that he obtains his end. Elate with his victory, he flies to inform the relations of his success. The witnesses are summoned, and the young lady interrogated29. Her confession is necessary, as well as some proof that she was taken by surprise, and made fruitless efforts to defend herself. Her hand is then bestowed on the conqueror, but he is obliged still to wait till it is seen whether she can reconcile herself to living with him. From this moment, freed from his labours, he makes his court without restraint to his future wife, who is not perhaps sorry to find herself delivered from her cumbersome attire. This second stage of courtship is seldom very long; the damsel, in the presence of the family, soon accords her consent, and nothing more is requisite to give him all the claims of a husband. The nuptial ceremony and feast consist merely in assembling the relations of the parties, who are eager to get drunk in imitation of the new married couple. A plurality of wives is not allowed among the Koriacs; I have seen instances however of its being practiced without scruple. Their funeral rights have a striking similarity to the ancient institutions of paganism, still observed by various uncivilized people of the new hemisphere. When a Koriac dies, his relations and neighbours assemble to pay him their last respects. They erect a funeral pile, upon which they place a portion of the wealth of the deceased, and a stock of provisions, consisting of rein deer, fish, brandy, in short whatever they conceive he will want for his great journey, and to keep him from starving in the other world. If it be a wandering Koriac, his deer conduct him to the pile; if a resident Koriac, he is drawn by his dogs, or carried by his relations. The body is exhibited, clothed in his best attire, and lying in a kind of coffin. There it receives the adieux of the attendants, who, with torches in their hands, consider it as an honour speedily to reduce their relation or friend to ashes. They feel only the regret of a short absence, and not of an eternal separation. They wear no mourning, and the funeral pomp terminates in a scene of intemperance, where the fumes of their liquor and tobacco gradually efface the remembrance of death. After a few months widowhood, the women are permitted to marry again. The superstitious practices observed at their funerals, and their transient grief at the loss of persons the most dear to them, are in my opinion an evident proof of their indifference to life, the brevity of which neither astonishes nor afflicts them. Their religious system deadens them apparently to the consoling hope of a protracted existence. Death is in their eyes but the passage to another life; and in quitting the world, they do not imagine that their pleasures terminate, but that other enjoyments are reserved for them. This flattering prejudice, which I mentioned in my conversation with Oumiavin, sufficiently accounts for his religious perplexities, and the ferocious courage of his countrymen. But their absurd dogmas are entitled to a more particular relation, though the worship upon which they are founded is very simple, and what is marvellous in it by no means attractive. The following account contains the whole theogony of the Koriacs30. They acknowledge a supreme being, the creator of all things. He inhabits the sun, whose burning orb they consider as the throne or palace of the lord of nature, whom they probably confound with that celestial fire, which is supposed to be his dwelling. I am led to believe this, as they neither fear, nor worship him. They address no prayer to him: goodness, they say, is his essence; all the good that exists in the world proceeds from him; and it is impossible he should do an injury. May we not conclude from this statement, that the view of the constant and universal benefits conferred by this king of the celestial orbs which gives life, action, and power to all things terrestrial, while it taught them to consider this luminary of the world as their tutelary divinity, imbued them with the blind confidence I have described? The principle of evil they consider as a malignant spirit, who divides with the sovereignly good being the empire of nature31. Their power is equal. As the one is intent on the happiness of mankind, the other endeavours to render them unhappy. Diseases, tempests, famine, calamities of every kind, are his work, and the instruments of his vengeance. It is to pacify his wrath, that they sacrifice their personal interest, and have recourse to devotion. Their homage is dictated merely by the terror with which this menacing deity fills every heart, and consists of expiatory sacrifices. They offer to him various animals, that have just began to exist, rein deer, dogs32, the first fruits of their hunting and fishing, and whatever they possess that is most valuable. Their devotional exercises consist of supplications and thanksgivings. There is no temple, no sanctuary set apart for his votaries. This fantastic god is equally worshipped in all places, and hears the Koriac who prays alone to him in the desert, as well as the assembled family, who conceive that they render him propitious by piously getting drunk in their yourt; for drunkness is become with these people a religious practice, and the basis of all their solemnities. This demon, this formidable spirit, is doubtless the same being as the Koutka of the Kamtschadales, whose ministers and interpreters the chamans consider themselves. Here, as in the peninsula, the mystic language of these magicians works upon the credulity, and obtains the veneration of the multitude. They exercise physic and surgery with equal success. These exclusive functions, which are supposed to be aided by inspiration rather than the light of experience, procures them an unbounded power. They are sent for from all parts of the country, and testimonies of gratitude heaped upon them beforehand. They demand with haughtiness whatever they please, and consider every thing that is given them as a tribute. It is upon the pretext of making an acceptable offering to the god, whose organ they are, that they appropriate to themselves whatever the inhabitants possess, that is most costly and beautiful. It is not necessary to suppose that these imposters gull their votaries by a parade of virtue, by rigid observances, and a more scrupulous life; on the contrary, they surpass them in their vices, and fall short of them in sobriety. On the eve of their magic ceremonies, they pretend indeed to fast all the day, but they make up for this abstinence at night by a profusion of the moukamorr, the intoxicating poison I have described, which they eat and drink to satiety. This preparatory intoxication they consider as a duty. It is probable that they feel its effects the next day, and that they derive from it an elevation of spirits that contributes to derange their minds, and give them the necessary strength to go through their extravagant transports. The idiom of the Koriacs has no affinity to that of the Kamtschadales; their pronunciation is more shrill, and slower, but it is less painful, and has not those uncommon sounds, those hissings, as difficult to be uttered as they are to be written. I have still to give an account of the wandering Koriacs; but not satisfied with the information I have obtained upon the subject, I shall wait till my arrival at the house of Oumiavins brother, where I shall have an opportunity of ascertaining its truth, by comparing it with the objects that will be immediately before my eyes. From the time of my arrival at Ingiga, M. Gaguen, in compliance with my entreaties, had been employed upon the means of hastening my departure as much as possible. Had it depended on myself, I should not have stopped more than twentyfour hours; but unfortunately my dogs were fatigued, and there were very few to be procured throughout the whole town, and these not in the best condition33. It was therefore proposed to me to take rein deer, which I accepted the more readily, as I hoped to travel the quicker, and as I had long been desirous of trying this mode of conveyance. I was not left in ignorance of the inconvenience attending it. I had to expect greater risks, more fatigue, and less repose; but my impatience made me regardless of every thing but the possibility of proceeding, and the pleasure of being able to judge for myself of the speed of these animals. To satisfy my impatience, and enable me to continue my journey without interruptions, M. Gaguen resolved to concert with the chiefs of the wandering Koriacs that were in the neighbourhood, and accordingly sent to invite them to his house. Two days after, twelve of these princes arrived, and a number of other Koriacs, who had received similar invitations. After the usual compliments34, he presented me to the assembly, explaining to them, in a few words, by an interpreter, who I was, the importance of my embassy, and the necessity in which I stood of their assistance. This short explanation excited a general murmur. It was in vain M. Gaguen alledged the absolute orders of government respecting me; their clamours increased to such a degree, that it was impossible to be heard, or to learn the cause of their discontent. At last, amidst this confused noise, it was understood that they complained of all the labour of the averages falling upon them, while the fixed Koriacs were exempt from any share in it. What claim had they to this over bearing immunity? By what privilege, like idle drones, should they be allowed to vegetate in their yourts? Why not, like them, be subjected to the conveyance of travellers? These remonstrances, justly founded, but peevishly urged, began to alarm me respecting the success of my demand, when an aged prince rose up: Is this, cried he, the fit time to make our complaints? If our zeal be abused, is this stranger responsible for it? Has he the less claim to our good offices? He shall have my assistance, and I will conduct him as far as he shall think necessary. Consent only to escort him to my house. There are surely some among you who will render him this trifling service. Upon this short address, shame was visible in the countenance of the whole assembly, and the most mutinous were silent. After a moments pause, every one attempted to exculpate himself from the reproach which he feared he had merited, and there was an emulation who should have the preference of conducting the stranger and his attendants to the Stoudnaareka, or cold river, upon the border of which lived the obliging Koriac, who had voluntarily proffered his services. Every difficulty being thus removed, my departure was fixed for 5 April, and the whole company engaged to attend my orders on that day. The old prince, who had so generously pleaded my cause, was the first to withdraw from my thanks, upon the pretext of having various preparations to make before my arrival. How great was my joy to learn, that the person to whom I owed this change of disposition in my favour, was the brother of Oumiavin, whose acquaintance I had so ardently desired! From this instant, M. Gaguen put every thing in motion for my departure. A number of small wheaten loaves were made under his immediate inspection, and a supply of rye biscuit. A variety of eatables, reserved for his own use, was, in spite of my remonstrances, packed up with my baggage. He added also several presents, which I was obliged to accept, from the polite and friendly manner in which they were offered. In short, I know not how to enumerate all his kindnesses to me. Every hour, during my stay with him, was marked by an attention to my wishes and an endeavour to oblige. His cares contributed equally with my repose to reestablish my health, which had been in no very enviable state since the cold I had caught upon leaving Poustaretsk. Prepared to depart 5 April, as had been agreed, how great was my surprise to see none of my conductors arrive! Various expresses were sent off; but the whole day passed before we had any intelligence. It was night when they made their appearance, each alledging that the delay had been unavoidable. The next day there was a new obstacle. It was Sunday, and the timorous consciences of my soldiers made them averse to travelling. Was it necessary to attend to this scruple, or rather this terror? for it was superstition more than devotion; it was not the sacredness of the day that influenced them, but the idea that they should meet with some misfortune. Notwithstanding the care I took to attend a Russian mass with them, they were not to be prevailed on to set out. After various intreaties to no purpose, I was obliged to stay and dine with M. Gaguen, who politely congratulated himself upon the delay. Finding, however, that it deprived me of all enjoyment, he proposed to cure my people of their chimerical fears. I defied him, and he accepted my challenge. Immediately he ordered brandy to be profusely dealt out to all my attendants, Russians as well as Koriacs. Imperceptibly their heads were warmed, and gaiety made them forgetful of the pretended danger. The most reluctant were the first to assist in harnessing the deer. It was no sooner said than done, and my sledges were ready in an instant. During this interval, a scene took place that diverted me extremely. Oumiavin, out of compliment to me, became completely fuddled. The vivacity of his regrets led him to practice every species of absurdity, which he called taking leave of me. He went out, came in again, officiously assisted in every thing. My sledge was no sooner ready than he must lift it, to judge of its weight; but unable to keep himself steady, this good Koriac fell, and in falling, broke the point of my sabre. His grief, at the sight of this trifling accident, was truly poignant. He precipitated himself at my feet, which he embraced, and washed with his tears, conjuring me not to depart till I had forgiven him. I attempted to raise him, and assured him of my friendship; but he persisted in his posture, and his tears continued to flow. It was not till half an hour, that, by means of entreaties and kindnesses, I was able to pacify him. I came out of the town on foot, escorted by almost all the inhabitants, who were desirous, they said, of doing honour to the only Frenchman that had ever visited them. M. Gaguen, and the officers of the garrison, insisted upon conducting me to the gates, where, having repeated my thanks for their civilities, we separated. Of the four soldiers who composed my suite when I left Kaminoi, two only remained with me, Golikoff and Nedarezoff; I had left the others at Ingiga, which was the place of their residence. Upon the recommendation however of M. Gaguen, I accepted the services of a young merchant, who asked leave to accompany me as far as Okotsk. During my abode at Ingiga, I had had frequent opportunities of conversing with him, and knowing the value of his society, and considered myself as fortunate in meeting with so agreeable a companion. It was to no purpose that I had prepared to guide my own sledge; every one opposed me, from the fear that the want of knowledge and skill as to my new steeds, might occasion me some fatal accident; they had beside been expressly injoined not to permit me, during the first day at least. When I came to my vehicle, I found my guide already seated in front, and I took my place, without paying any attention to him; but upon his looking round, I recognized in his features a Koriac prince, named Eviava. He was eager to express his joy in having the honour to conduct me, and then prepared to join the file. I have long owed the reader a description of a Koriac sledge, and am now able to satisfy his curiosity. The picture, I hope, will be sufficiently interesting to obtain his pardon for the delay. Upon two skates, placed parallel to each other, that is, upon two branches of a tree, six feet and an half long, three inches wide, and very roughly finished, the extremities of which in front are bent upwards in the form of a demicrescent, is placed the body of the sledge, which is really nothing more than a frame of open work, five feet long and eighteen inches wide, raised two feet and a few inches above the ground. Two small poles, about five inches in circumference, constitute the frame of this vehicle, the minuter parts of which are formed of thick laths, inserted the one in the other. A cross bar, more substantial than these poles, unites their forward extremities, which are prolonged to the arches of the skates, and fastened to them with leathern thongs. The lower part of this open work rests upon a sort of curvilinear feet, the lower ends of which, spreading out, are inserted in the skates, and the back is constructed in the form of an open calash, being sixteen inches high and twentyfour deep, disposed in a semicircular form, with short poles ranged at the top, in the perforations of a demihoop, nearly like the backs of our arm chairs in a garden. In this narrow inclosure, the traveller commonly places his provisions, or whatever else is destined for continual use. For myself, I employed it to receive my box of dispatches, and seated myself upon it till the moment that I took the place of my guide. His seat is towards the middle of the open work, not far from the cross bar; here he places himself astride, with his feet resting upon the skates of the sledge. The team consists of two rein deer placed abreast, with no other harness than a leathern collar, which passes across the breast and between the fore legs of the animal, and is fastened to his flank by a thong, in the manner of a trace, so that that which belongs to the deer on the right, is fastened to the cross bar of the sledge, and that which belongs to the deer on the left, to the bottom of one of the bent supporters of the carriage, and on the same side. As reins, they have two slender thongs, one end of which is twisted about the root of the horns of the deer35. When they want to go to the right, they pull the rein gently in this direction, giving at the same time a sort of back handed lash to the animal on the left. When they want to go to the left, they give two or three smart shakes to the right rein, touching at the same time the deer to which it belongs. The left rein has no other use than as a curb to the deer to which it is fastened. The driver has also a stick, one end of which is armed with a sort of hammer. The head of the instrument consists of an horizontal bone, one of whose extremities is very sharp, and is principally used to disengage the traces of the deer, while they are going on, if they happen to become entangled about their feet; and this is considered as one of the nicest accomplishments of a driver. The other end of the bone is round and blunted, and serves the purpose of a whip; but the blows that are given with it are much more severe; and are beside distributed so liberally, that the poor animals are sometimes covered with streams of blood. These sticks are very apt to break, and they therefore take care to provide themselves with a number of them, which are fastened lengthwise to the sledge. We travelled very slowly till the evening. The only inconvenience I felt was the not being able, for want of an interpreter, to enjoy the conversation of my princely guide. It doubtless deprived me of a fund of information which it was in his power to have furnished, and our mutual taciturnity did not render my journey the more pleasant. We stopped at seven oclock. It was necessary to gain a mountain well known to our Koriacs, and which had been marked in our itinerary as our first stage. I should in vain have wished to seek shelter in a wood, as had been my custom when drawn by dogs. The convenience of the traveller is left out of the account in the choice of a resting place; that of the rein deer only is consulted, and the spot that most abounds with moss is invariably preferred. Half way up the mountain our steeds were unharnessed, and no other care taken of them than that of tying them with leathern thongs. I saw them instantly scrape away the snow, under which they well knew how to come at their food. At a short distance we made a fire, and set on our kettle, and the length of our supper answered to its frugality. I admitted my Koriac prince to my mess, who appeared to be highly flattered with the honour. I then laid myself down on the snow, and was permitted to sleep a few hours; but when the time was expired, they awoke me without compunction to proceed on our journey. It is necessary to observe that the Koriacs will travel four, five, or six days incessantly without taking scarcely any repose. The rein deer are habituated to run day and night. In every two or three hours they are unharnessed, and allowed the interval of an hour to feed, after which they set off again with equal ardour; and this mode is repeated till they arrive at the end of the journey. It may be supposed from this account, that I considered myself as fortunate, when the night came, to be indulged with two hours uninterrupted sleep. The favour however was not long accorded to me, and by degrees I was obliged to accustom myself to the practice of my inflexible conductors, though it was not without extreme difficulty. Before I remounted, Eviava informed me that he was under the necessity of lightening our vehicle, the weight of two persons being for a continuance too much for our steeds, and that if I wished to make the experiment of being my own charioteer, he would take one of the empty sledges, with which we were furnished as a resource in case of accident, or the loss of any of our deer. The proposal coincided too well with my inclination for me to hesitate a moment in accepting it, and I instantly seized the reins, and began my new apprenticeship. I found it equally arduous with that to which I subjected myself at Bolcheretsk, with this difference, that I was then the first to laugh at the frequency of my falls; whereas in the present case, I obtained the conviction of their danger at the risk of my life. The trace of the deer on the left, being fastened to the supporter of the sledge on the corresponding side, nearly touches the left foot of the conductor, who must be continually on his guard to keep clear of it. From forgetfulness or inexperience, I failed in this precaution, and my leg became entangled. The violence of my fall, or more probably the sudden and acute pain I felt in my leg, led me imprudently to relinquish my hold of the reins, in order to apply my hand to it. By what means could I disengage myself? The deer, finding no longer the same restraint, advanced with greater speed, and every effort I made to get free encouraged and irritated them. Dragged along in this manner, my head sweeping the snow and striking continually against the skate of the sledge, and feeling every moment as if my leg would be shivered in pieces, it is scarcely conceivable what I suffered. I was no longer able to cry out; I had lost all consciousness; when, by a motion purely mechanical, I extended my left hand exactly upon the reins that floated by chance. A new jolt of the sledge made me draw back my hand, and this involuntary check stopped my deer. Some of my people came up at the same time, expecting to find me either dangerously wounded, or already deprived of life. Meanwhile after a swoon of a few minutes, my senses returned, and I recovered my strength. The only injury I sustained was a violent contusion on my leg, and a headache, which were attended with no very material consequences. The joy of having escaped from this danger, gave me additional courage, and I ascended my sledge, and pursued my journey as if nothing had happened. Become more circumspect, I took care in future whenever I was overturned, to check immediately my deer, for I ought to consider myself as fortunate that, in their impetuosity, they did not proceed with me to the mountains36. In that case how could they have been stopped? Three or four days are frequently spent in this pursuit, and sometimes without success. This intelligence, which I received from my Koriacs, made me tremble for my dispatches, which were in a box fastened to my sledge, and were thus liable to be taken from me every moment. I perceived at the left of our road the village of Karbanda, situated on the seacoast, and ninety wersts from Ingiga. We did not pass nearer than a werst to it, and it appeared to be a very inconsiderable ostrog. Three wersts farther on I saw two yourts and six balagans, which are occupied only in summer. We had still seven wersts to the place destined for our halt, which was a wretched hamlet in the middle of a small wood watered by the river Noyakhona. It consists of a single yourt and three or four balagans, inhabited winter and summer by ten or twelve Koriacs, who gave me a tolerable reception; for they sheltered me at least; and this was no trifling convenience to a man frequently obliged to sleep in the open air, and upon a bed of snow. About two oclock in the morning we sent for our deer, which had been conducted to a distance from the hamlet, that they might have an opportunity of feeding, and be out of the reach of the dogs. We pursued our journey, but the day afforded nothing interesting. In the evening, Eviava, who was not well acquainted with the situation of the yourt of Oumiavins brother, proposed to me to ascend a mountain at the left, where he expected to find one of his countrymen that could direct us. In the space of an hour and an half we reached the summit, but upon looking round, could perceive no trace of an habitation. The night would not permit us to extend our search. Perceiving that I was tired and little disposed to go any farther, Eviava was unhappy. To satisfy him, I desired that he would make the search without me, and that I would in the mean time, repose myself in this place till his return. In about three hours he came with joy to awake me. He had found his friend, prince Amoulamoula and all his herd. They entreated me not to quit the place where I was till the next morning, being all desirous of coming to meet me. I was not sorry for the event, as it procured me almost a whole nights rest. As soon as it was light my visitors came. The chief approached me first, to pay me his compliments in the Koriac mode. He accompanied them with a beautiful black and red fox skin, or sevadouschka, which he drew from his parque, and obliged me to accept37. In return for this civility, I treated them all with brandy and tobacco, with which I had amply provided myself at Ingiga; and having thanked them for their kindness, I took my leave, supplied with the necessary information to direct our course. Though the snow was very deep, and not at all firm, our deer ran with surprising ease and lightness. Having broader feet, they do not sink so much as the dogs, and have in this respect the advantage, as there is no necessity of going before them with rackets to clear the way. But then the dogs are not so soon tired, and spare the traveller the disagreeable circumstance of stopping every two or three hours. In my way I killed a number of partridges. From the quantity we saw, these cantons must be congenial to them. Some wild rein deer fled upon our approach with a velocity that scarcely gave me time to observe them. Happily the abundance of my provisions took from me all desire to kill them. At noon we could distinguish the Stoudenaareka, and in an hour after we had crossed it, or rather we were arrived at the yourt of the brother of Oumiavin, in whose hands Eviava had undertaken to place me. My new host came to meet me at the head of his family. Their satisfaction at seeing me was visible in their countenances, and they seemed to strive who should press closest. The address of the old prince was short, but replete with the cordiality which he had before demonstrated. Every thing he had was at my disposal, and I might command the services of himself and his family. They immediately began to place my sledges and effects under cover. I had no other care than that of my dispatches, and before they would permit me to have even this trouble, I was obliged to explain to them that I never trusted this box out of my own hands. When I entered the yourt, my first care was to pay prince Eviava my post expences. I had twelve sledges, each drawn by two deer; the distance we had travelled was a hundred and eightyfive wersts; and I was indebted therefore seven roubles forty kopecks. In receiving this sum, my good conductor exclaimed upon my generosity. It was in vain I endeavoured to prove that I paid him no more than his just due; he could not comprehend my calculation; and it was the continual burden of his song, that he had never met with so honest a man. To pay him for having conferred an obligation upon me, was in his opinion an act of sublime virtue. So many encomiums, give room for suspicion that the Russians practice something more than conomy; and it is asserted, that their travelling in this country is not attended with much expence. We sat down to our dinner, which was very joyous. Eviava and my host eat with me; the brandy was not spared; and my enchanted guests never remembered to have fared so sumptuously. I employed the rest of the day in making observations, and interrogating the people about me. But the reader may have perhaps the curiosity to know something more of the brave Koriac who received me with so good a grace. His name also is Oumiavin, but he is distinguished from his brother by that of Simeon, in which he was baptized when an infant. He confessed to me with the utmost frankness, that he had no idea of the nature of the Christian religion. So little care had been taken to instruct this young proselyte, that he was ignorant of the very first principles of the gospel. Accustomed to an absurd mixture of the errors of his country, and a few external practices of Christianity to which he had habituated himself38, he happily found in his heart the principles of natural rectitude, by which alone his conduct was governed. Like all the Koriacs, he is small and sallow. His head is characteristic of his mind. An expression of frankness and benevolence, confirmed by the whole of his figure, prejudices us in his favour; and his short white locks, added to the regularity of his features, give him an air of true distinction. He is lame of his rightarm, in consequence of an obstinate contest with a bear. His companions fled through fear, and he was left alone to oppose the monster, and though he had no other weapon but his knife, he defeated and killed him. The chace is his favourite amusement. Equally skilful and intrepid, he is regarded also as a very fortunate hunter. But it is the strength of his mind, that renders him most estimable and interesting. The project he formed, and which he laments the not having been permitted to execute, could only have been dictated by a head strongly organised. It proves at least much good sense and deeper reflection than can be ascribed to the rest of his countrymen. It originated thus. Indocile and jealous of its liberty, this people had for a long time impatiently brooked the idea of being tributary to Russia. The severe administration of the governors was accused by this savage tribe as being a tyrannical abuse of power; and doubtless, among the numerous subaltern officers there were many who felt no compunction in harassing these new subjects of the empress. Simeon Oumiavin was the first whose indignation was roused. More enraged at the obduracy of these extortioners, than at what was taken for them, it was impossible, he said, they could be authorised by a sovereign whose justice and lenity were incessantly vaunted. This judicious reflexion made the strongest impression upon his mind, and awakened all his natural courage. Immediately assembling a few of his countrymen, who, like himself, were victims of the iniquity of these petty tyrants, he communicated to them his suspicions, and his design. My brethren, said he, do you feel the weight of your chains? Were you born to wear them, to be the prey of these avaricious rulers, whose rapacity, abusing every day the power entrusted to them, leads them to regard us as a property which they may squander at their pleasure? How do we hope to deliver ourselves from this scourge? We cannot have recourse to arms; we are too weak; and new and more formidable enemies would spring up from the ashes of the dead. But we dare pass the immense tract of country which they traversed to come to us; we dare carry our complaints to the palace of our sovereign. It is in her name, but not by her order, that we are harassed, that we are robbed. The mildness of her government gives the lie to such injurious treatment, such perfidies. Her licentious ministers are the most forward to boast of its lenity. Let us go in person to claim it, throw ourselves at her feet, and declare our grievances. She is our common mother, and will not turn a deaf ear to the cries of a part of her subjects, of whom she can have no knowledge but from the false accounts of her wicked agents. This speech, which I have reported nearly as it was delivered to me by Oumiavin, inspired every mind with the indignation and enthusiasm of its author. It was a zealous contest among them who should go to Petersburg. Meanwhile the most wealthy and intrepid were selected for the office. Oumiavin, from his ability to speak with tolerable readiness the Russian language, had the honour of being placed at the head of the deputation, and they departed, furnished with a variety of valuable articles which were intended as presents. Arrived at Okotsk, our travellers stood in need of succour. They applied to the governor, intreating him to supply them with the means of gaining Irkoutsk at least. He had got some intelligence of their design, and foreseeing its danger, took measures to prevent it. Under the specious pretext of first obtaining the consent of the governor general, he detained them several months. During this interval, he employed every means to seduce them. Reasonings, intreaties, kindness, every thing was resorted to; but nothing could dissuade them from continuing their journey; they were inflexible. Violence was then made use of; a thousand snares were spread for them; it was easy for monopoly and persecution to create wrongs; and as a punishment, they were constrained to return, with the shame and mortification of having sacrificed to no purpose the greatest part of their wealth, and their deer. This melancholy experience discouraged not the chief of the Koriac confederacy; it was in his eyes an additional proof of the utility of his design, and the necessity of executing it. From this moment he treasured up the remembrance of it, hoping that more fortunate circumstances would one day offer. At the time of my visit, his heart was still inflamed with the desire of undertaking this expedition. Yes, said he, in spite of my age, I would set off this moment. My motive indeed would be different, and I should no longer have the same obstacles to fear, as our present governors are entitled to our confidence and praises. My ambition would be to see my sovereign. I endeavour sometimes to form an idea of her splendid palace, and the wealth and variety with which it abounds, and it revives my regret at not having been permitted to behold her in all her magnificence and glory. We should have considered her as a divinity, and the faithful account we should have given to our countrymen, would have filled every heart with respect and submission. Influenced still more forcibly by love, than we had before been by fear, we should cheerfully have paid every tribute imposed by moderation. We should have taught our neighbours to venerate her government, by making them the witnesses of our satisfaction and gratitude. Almost my whole conversation with this honest Koriac was of this nature. I considered myself as bound to transcribe it in this place, to give the fuller description of his character. I beg leave to add another anecdote. The expences he had incurred had nearly ruined him. A considerable time was necessary to repair his flock, which, from the neglect and infidelity of the keepers, had during his absence fallen into decay. It was at this very moment that he gave a striking proof of his generosity. One of his relations had some months before lost all his deer, and was reduced to servitude. Simeon Oumiavin came to his assistance, and made up for him a small flock which he lent him without interest. On his return from his fatal embassy, he refused to take it back, because it was not yet sufficiently augmented to leave his friend wherewith to support himself. Their deer is the only source of riches to this wandering people. The chief of a horde has seldom less than two or three hundred, and many of them have three or four thousand. Oumiavins flock amounted, when I was with him, to about eight or nine hundred, the view of which afforded me very great pleasure. This multitude of deer are seen on the top of a mountain, near the Stoudenaareka, sometimes collected, and sometimes scattered, seeking under the snow for moss. It is seldom that any of them wander from the flock, and they are always caught without difficulty. On the evening of my arrival I had an opportunity of enjoying this spectacle. They had been assembled in order to select what were necessary for my use, which required only a quarter of an hour. Upon a particular cry of their keepers, the tame deer came towards us. The young ones, and those which are unaccustomed to, or exempt from, labour, go off in a different direction. The slow and the restive ones were next separated from the rest, and those that were wanted were easily caught by means of a running noose which they threw over them with singular dexterity. The choice being made, they separated those destined for my use, and which if they had not been detained by force, would speedily have gone to rejoin the rest. They do not ordinarily employ in labour the female deer, which are reserved for the propagation of the species. They are coupled in autumn, and foal in the spring. The young males designed for draught, are castrated nearly in the same manner as the dogs of Kamtschatka. There are almost always three or four deer in a flock that are trained for the chace. The instinct of these animals is inconceivable; they hunt even while they are feeding. If a tame deer perceives a wild one, he immediately, without showing any sign either of joy or surprise, imitates in browsing the gait and manner of the other, who sometimes approaches him without suspecting a snare. Presently one sees them play together; their horns become entangled, they part, they join each other again, they fly and pursue each other by turns. In these sportive amusements the tame deer gradually draws his prey within musquet shot of the hunter. With a well managed deer, one is able to seize his companion alive; a cord is hung upon the horns of the former, which, in their play, he entangles in the horns of his adversary. From that time the greater the efforts made by the wild deer to escape, the closer the running knot is drawn, and the more strongly the tame deer pulls at the cord, in order to give his master time to come up. It frequently happens however that the wild deer suspects the trick, and escapes the danger by flight. When a Koriac comes out of his yourt in the morning, the deer flock about him in expectation of a drink, which is the highest treat to them; this is nothing more than human urine, which is carefully preserved in vessels, or hampers made of straw, and of so nice a contexture that the liquor cannot penetrate through them. The flock are so extremely fond of this beverage, that whatever quantity you give them, it is all swallowed in an instant. Simeon Oumiavin ordered a young deer to be killed, the best of his flock. It was cut up for my use, and the half of a wild deer added to it, the flesh of which appeared to be still more succulent. He gave me also four very beautiful skins39. We then entered the yourt, where I passed the night upon a mattrass spread in one corner. Though the appellation be the same, there is no kind of resemblance between the habitations of the wandering, and the underground dwellings of the fixed Koriacs. Not knowing how to distinguish the different lodgings of these people, the Russians have given the name of yourt to all of them, without troubling themselves with the primitive signification of the word, which means a subterraneous apartment. The yourts in question are, properly speaking, mere tents in the form of huts placed on the surface of the ground. No other care is taken as to the foundations, than that of drawing the boundary, and removing the snow that may be within the line. Round the circumference, a number of poles are erected at equal distances, which uniting at the top, serve as supports to each other. This rustic timber work has a wretched covering, of tanned deer skins, extended from the base40 to within a foot or two of the summit, which is left open for the admission of air, and as a passage for the smoke. A considerable inconvenience results from this circumstance, as there is nothing to protect the centre of the habitation from the rain and the snow; in the mean time it is on this very spot they make their fire, and cook their victuals. The family, and the servants, who have the care of the flocks, sleep under pologs, which are a kind of huts, or low tents ranged in distinct apartments round the wall of the yourt, and resembling the square tents of the Tchouktchis. The unsettled state of these wandering people led them to invent this species of habitation. The conveyance of their whole house being equally easy and commodious, they feel the less reluctance to changing their quarters. Upon the first necessity or inconvenience, they take up their tents, fasten the poles lengthwise to the sledges, and stow the coverings with their baggage. A new spot is fixed upon, and deserted again almost immediately, and thus they remove from one place to another every moment. Their sledges are of course always kept loaded by the side of their habitations, and the provision and other articles taken out in proportion as they want them. On my arrival I found twelve sledges prepared for me. The first care of Simeon Oumiavin was to assure me, that he would himself be my guide, and would conduct me, if it were necessary, as far as Yamsk. I manifested a becoming sense of this obliging offer, and at eight oclock in the morning of 10 April, we took our flight, and at noon had reached the Tavatoma, being a space of twentyfive wersts. Desirous of seeing a hot spring which Oumiavin pointed out to me in the neighbourhood, I put on my rackets to cross on foot a small wood, by the side of which it forms a stream three fathom wide, which pours itself into the Tavatoma. I left my people therefore at an elbow, formed by the river at this place, and it was agreed that they should proceed over a high mountain that was at the right, and take the opportunity while they waited for me, of feeding the deer, and preparing our dinner. Accompanied only by M. Kisselioff, I travelled two wersts to reach the spring. It is said to be composed of a number of others issuing from a mountain at the left of the river, and which unite in their descent. A thick smoke rises in clouds above these waters, but it has no offensive smell. The heat is extreme, and the bubbling continual. Their taste is sharp and disagreeable, which seems to imply that the waters contain sulphurous and saline particles; by analising them, they would probably also be found to have iron and copper. It is certain that the stones we picked up along the stream had all a volcanic quality, but the most singular circumstance was the effect the water produced upon us. I merely, in a slight manner, washed my mouth with it, and M. Kisselioff his face; he had the skin of his face taken off, and I had my tongue and palate flayed, and for a long time was unable to eat any thing hot or high seasoned. Having satisfied my curiosity, we prepared to join our company. To effect this, we imagined that we were to pass a mountain opposite to that from which the hot spring issued. Our rackets made us retreat instead of advancing, and we were obliged to take them off, and ascend by the help of our hands and feet. About three fourths of the way, overcome with fatigue, and apprehensive that we had mistaken the road, I intreated my companion, who was more accustomed to this mode of climbing upon the snow, to endeavour to gain the summit, from whence I hoped he would be able to discover our equipage. He succeeded, and after waiting an hour and half in anxiety, I saw the good Koriac coming with a sledge to my assistance. We had in reality taken the wrong direction, he informed me, and Kisselioff had been ten times on the point of perishing before he found our camp. Upon my arrival we proceeded immediately on our journey, and did not halt till it was late, and we were twentyfive wersts from the hot springs of Tavatoma. We had determined the 11, to push for the chain of mountains called Villeguinskoikhrebeut, but it was not practicable. At the close of day we could but just perceive them; we advanced however till we came near enough to be sure of reaching them early in the morning. They appeared to be close to us, when we were still at the distance of eight wersts. Having passed this place, we had to cross a small river that winds at the bottom of these mountains, when we came to that of Villegui, which is the loftiest, and gives its name to the rest. At first sight it appeared to be inaccessible. A narrow passage presented itself, and, confiding in my princely conductor, we entered it. Four hours scarcely sufficed to bring us to the peak. Conceive of an enormous mass, at least two hundred yards high, and nearly perpendicular, with rocks and stones projecting in various places, and cleared by the hurricanes from the snow. The little that remained made the footing so slippery that our deer fell down every moment. In spite of our exertions to support the sledges, the steepness of the declivity made them recoil, and we were under the continual apprehension of their falling upon us, which would infallibly have happened if we had slipped. Frequently in laying hold of a rock that seemed to adhere to the mass, it gave way, and I lost my equilibrium. But for Oumiavin and my soldiers, who were by my side, and gave me timely assistance, I should infalliably have precipitated to the bottom. Arrived at the summit, I became giddy upon looking down the precipice I had climbed, and my heart shuddered at the danger I had escaped. I was far from thinking myself safe, as I had to descend. My obliging Koriac, to give me confidence, minutely explained the method I was to take, and his instruction freed me from all fear of accidents; but I was still uneasy, having left a part of my baggage at the foot of the mountain. Who, thought I to myself, will have the courage to go for it? The intrepid Oumiavin undertook the office, attended by some of his people. I was tormented by a burning thirst. The top of the mountain was covered with snow, but how were we to dissolve it, as there was not a shrub to be seen? The hope of finding some at the bottom made me resolve not to wait for my guide, but to avail myself of his lessons, and descend. We began by unharnessing our deer, and fastening them to the back part of our sledges, in each of which two men placed themselves. We then slid down in the manner of the inhabitants of Petersburg, who, during the carnival, thus amuse themselves upon the mountains of ice which they form on the Neva. With the aid of our sticks we guided and kept back our vehicles, and in less than ten minutes we were safe. I had the good fortune to perceive some small cedars, and a fire having been kindled, I allayed my thirst. It was now two oclock, and at seven we were all assembled; Oumiavin met with no accident, but he was so fatigued that it was nine before we could proceed. The next days journey was less painful to us than to our deer. The snow was more than three feet deep, and so little firm that they sunk to their necks. Many of them refused to draw, and it was necessary to leave them behind us. Such is the inconvenience attending these animals, when one wishes to make a long journey with only short intervals of rest; as soon as they are tired, we must abandon them or stop; it is no longer possible make them move. I had hoped to reach Touman in the morning of 14, and we were within ten wersts of it, when a violent gale of wind, accompanied with snow, almost blinded us. It obliged us to relax our speed, and we did not enter the village till four oclock in the afternoon. It is situated southwest of Ingiga, at the distance of four hundred and forty wersts, in a little wood through which the river Touman flows. Three yourts, an equal number of wooden magazines, and a dozen balagans make up the whole ostrog, the population of which amounts to twenty families. Though the river abounds with fish41, I saw the inhabitants, either from indolence, or a vitious taste, feed upon the bark of the birch tree steeped in the oil of the whale. The bad weather continued during the 15 and 16; but it would have been impossible to have proceeded if we had been ever so desirous, as our deer were incapable of drawing us any farther. Oumiavin dared not avow it, but his melancholy appearance told me what he would willingly have concealed. Upon my mentioning it to him, he began to make apologies, as if I had a right to complain, because he found it impossible to conduct me, as he had intended, as far as Yamsk. I had much difficulty to make him understand that I was fully satisfied of his good will, and owed him my thanks for all his civilities; it was necessary to assume an air of displeasure before he would accept some presents that I thought myself bound to add to my post expences. By his advice, I intreated the inhabitants to supply me with what dogs they had, but with all their efforts they could only procure me a very small number, and there was no other way of making up what I wanted, than that of harnessing young dogs, and even females that were ready to whelp. The generosity of these people was carried so far as to offer me a part of their dried fish, of which they had no abundance. The 17 the wind abated, but the sky was covered with black, and very ill boding clouds. In the mean time having taken leave of Simeon Oumiavin, and my Touman hosts, I departed at one oclock in the afternoon with my escort, and all my baggage, in five open sledges. Each team consisted of eight or ten dogs. I had taken a man extraordinary to serve me as charioteer, having no longer either strength or courage to undertake the office: this fatiguing exercise had wholly overcome me. We soon came to the sea, upon which we travelled in order to avoid seven mountains, which rendered the common route extremely difficult. We had scarcely advanced fifteen wersts, partly upon the ice, and partly upon the coast, when fortunately for us, we were obliged to return, as the snow began to fall, and the wind to blow with an impetuosity that drove our dogs back, and made our sledges totter. My guides delayed not to inform me of the danger; and from the fear of misleading us, they proposed that we should take shelter in a deserted yourt that was at no great distance, and the situation of which they were perfectly acquainted with. It is upon a small river called Yovanna, twenty wersts from Touman. When we came up to it we were covered with snow, and almost frozen. We were all eager to descend that we might be screened from the tempest, but we found its entrance stopped up with snow four feet deep. Having hastily arranged our sledges, we took our rackets, for want of shovels, and began to open a passage. This work occupied us an hour. We were still in want of a ladder; the most hardy ventured to leap down, and the rest followed them. We fell upon the carcasses of sea wolves entirely frozen, and some of them half devoured, doubtless by ravenous beasts, who, in the depth of winter, had made this subterraneous habitation their den. A leathern seine in one corner of the yourt, was the only indication that it had been visited by human beings. It is to be presumed that the neighbouring Koriacs had made use of it as a reservoir. The walls were surrounded with icicles, which fell down in chrystallizations; and in truth, I can only compare this dwelling to a large ice house. Its form was square, and its dimensions about five feet deep by ten large. While we were employed in placing the sea wolves out of the way, that we might have more room to lie down, my conductors fastened our dogs42, and gave them their allowance of food; at the same time a fire was kindled, and having warmed ourselves and eaten our supper, I extended myself upon the leathern net we had found in the yourt. A sea wolf under my head served me as a pillow. My companions imitated my example; and, excepting the disadvantage of having too confined a space, we passed a very good night. We ceded an entire corner to the Koriacs of my suite, who huddled together, and were unable to stretch themselves at their length; but they made no complaint, and appeared not to be conscious of any inconvenience. I saw them squat down, like apes, their head muffled up in their parque, and their elbows resting upon their knees; and in this posture they slept as soundly as if wholly at their ease. The next day the wind changed, but its violence did not abate, and it was the more troublesome to us, as it drove the smoke into the yourt to such a degree that we were suffocated and blinded, and were obliged not to light our fire except at our meals. I was desirous of remedying this inconvenience by some external contrivances; but I had no sooner placed my foot out of the yourt than I was almost blown down. M. Kisselioff, who accompanied me, had his cap carried away, and was willing to pursue it with some of our conductors; but it was to no purpose; at the distance of fifteen paces he entirely lost sight of our retreat, and was only able to find his way back by the cries we made in answer to his. We at last succeeded in placing a fence sufficiently high to secure a free passage to the smoke. From this moment we continued our fire, without intermission, night or day; but in spite of this care, we were all chilled. The dampness became equally insupportable with the cold. The fire gradually melted the ice that surrounded us and we had a thousand dribblings over our heads, and a stream of water under our feet. To increase our difficulties, the sea wolves began to thaw, and diffuse a noxious odour. That which exhaled from our bodies43 was more than sufficient to make our asylum a true sink. As it was impossible to purify the air, we endeavoured at least to get rid of our neighbours, the sea wolves; and my guides were the first to propose that our dogs should be fed with them while we continued in this frightful situation. I consented the more readily, as the scantiness of our dried fish obliged me to consult conomy. In thus appropriating to myself what chance threw in our way, I doubtless did an injury to some unfortunate inhabitants of this quarter; but when reduced to extremities, selfishness is sometimes pardonable. Impatient to pursue our journey, I sent my Koriacs to observe the weather. In two minutes I saw them descend perfectly covered with snow, and so chilled, that they could not open their mouths. Their report corresponded with their sad appearance; but of all their exclamations, I was most struck with the account they gave me, that the rocks, which were a few paces from our yourt, and very perceptible the preceding evening, were now wholly invisible. The 20, the weather becoming calmer, and the snow having almost subsided, I ordered preparations to be made for our departure. Our dogs were therefore harnessed, and we had hoisted ourselves out of the yourt, when a terrible gust of wind deranged all our measures. The snow came on as thick as ever, and we were obliged to retreat with precipitation, happy that we were within reach of shelter. Almost instantly I found myself ill. I know not whether it were occasioned by passing suddenly from cold to heat, or by the putrid air I breathed in plunging myself into this sink, or the vexation I felt at so many obstacles; but I continued nearly a quarter of an hour without sensation. The zeal of my soldiers manifested itself on this occasion; in order to restore me, one deluged me with water, while the other chafed my temples so roughly with snow, that he rubbed off, I believe, the skin. My reflections, after this swoon, were as melancholy as my situation. I considered my plan as wholly defeated by these impediments and delays, and was apprehensive of not arriving at Okotsk till the rivers were broken up. In the mean time this was indispensible, if I intended to make use of the mode of sledge travelling, to reach the place called the Cross of Yudoma, or Yudomskoikrest. Hence I had designed to proceed to Yakotsk by a circuitous passage down the rivers Yudoma, Maya, and Aldann44, by which means I found that I should escape the inconveniencies of the thaw, which renders the road impracticable even to horses. But according to the calculation I had made, the hindrance of a single day might occasion me a delay of more than two months. It is necessary to have been in my place, to judge how very discouraging was my prospect; the dangers that beset me appeared in my eyes to be less terrible. At length, the 21, it was possible to proceed. The sky was still covered with clouds, and the snow fell heavily, but the wind had ceased, and we resolved to set off in spite of our apprehension of another hurricane, which would exceedingly have distressed us, as we had no hope of refuge till we came to Yamsk. We directed our course towards the sea, upon which we constantly travelled at the distance of two wersts from the shore; but in the evening we thought it prudent to approach nearer, in order to halt. The ice was perfectly smooth, and our little camp was easily erected. The next morning we rose tolerably early, and in order to avoid the curvatures of the shore, we made for the main ocean. We had observed some bays the preceding evening, but they were less extensive than one which we crossed in the afternoon of this day. Unfortunately, when we were opposite to it, a gust of wind prevented us from examining it. I understood, from my guides, that it was called from the river Iret, which falls into it, that it is almost entirely closed, and is dry in summer, when the sea is low. In spring it abounds with water fowl. The inhabitants of Yamsk and its environs catch them with nets, and hunt them with sticks in the moulting season. The shallowness of the bay, which is in all places fordable, is favourable to the diversion of these sportsmen. Upon the approach of night we came on shore, and halted till the morning in a wood of firs, upon the banks of the river Iret. The 23 furnished nothing remarkable. The wind assailed us with considerable violence in the middle of a plain, the extent of which was twenty five wersts. I had again recourse to my compass, and we had not proceeded fifteen wersts, when the sky suddenly cleared up. We met a sergeant with dispatches from Okotsk; and a little farther, about three wersts from its mouth, the river Yamsk presented itself. We pursued its course, and passed at the right an habitation of fishermen, resorted to only in summer. Six wersts farther we came to the ostrog of Yamsk, which is more than a hundred and fifty from Touman. My biscuits were nearly consumed, and I was constrained not only to sleep there, but to remain a considerable part of the next day, to supply myself with a fresh stock of provisions. The serjeant who commanded the garrison, which was composed of twenty men, received me with civility. Upon the recommendation of the governor of Ingiga, he assiduously provided every thing of which I stood in need, and gave me the necessary information. The ostrog, or fort of Yamsk, is upon the border of the river, ten wersts from its mouth, where it forms a bay that seems to promise excellent anchorage; but a variety of capes advancing a considerable way, and a great number of shoals with which the entrance is as it were blocked up, render it the more dangerous, as the passage is narrow, and obliges the ships frequently to beat about, or lie to for a favourable wind, in order to pass over them, for it is almost impossible to succeed with a side wind. From this account it is evident, that if the place were more considerable and more frequented, shipwrecks would be more common45. There are at Yamsk only twenty five houses, built of wood; a part of which, where the church46 is situated, is surrounded with a square enclosure of pallisades, like that of Ingiga, but not so high or so thick. The inhabitants amount to twenty families, whose mode of life is similar to that of the Russians. They have a method of making salt, that was new to me. The wood which the sea throws now and then upon the shore, is collected with the greatest care. When it is dry, they burn it; the ashes are afterwards boiled, and the sediment which it leaves is a very white salt. Two days previous to my arrival at Yamsk, a troop of wandering Toungouses had left this settlement. To console me under the disappointment of having missed them, I was favoured with a sight of the full dress, both of the men and women. They wear no chemises, but a kind of stomacher fastened behind, and which descends to the knees like an apron. It is embroidered with the hair of rein deer, and ornamented with glass beads of various colours, to which are added at the bottom plates of iron and copper, and a considerable number of small bells. Under this apron they wear a sort of breeches, or pantaloon, made of skin, and their legs are covered with long boots, which have the hair on the outside, and are embroidered. A long waistcoat covers their shoulders, to the extremities of the sleeves of which gloves are fastened, with an opening under the wrist for the sake of pulling them off more conveniently. This waistcoat, close at the breast, and fitted to the shape, terminates near the middle of the thigh, and is also ornamented with embroidery and beads. From the small of the back hangs a tail, two feet long, but not very large. It is made of the hair of sea wolves, died of different colours. The head dress is a small round cap, which widens a little on each side to cover the ears. The whole attire is made of the skin of young deer, and trimmed with sables, otters, or other furs of equal value. The garb of the women is nearly the same, except that it has no tail or gloves, and that there is a small opening in the crown of their caps of about two inches in diameter, which is doubtless made for the purpose of passing the hair through. Such is the mode of these people. In winter they wear thick fur clothing; but they are careful, for fear of injuring it, to change their dress the moment they enter their yourts, and to put on their worst garments; and upon the most trivial occasions they strip themselves entirely naked. We felt this day the force of the sun, which announced an approaching thaw. Of consequence I furnished myself with plates of whalebone to be fastened under the skates of my sledges, in case of necessity; and by the advice of the people of the country, founded on the experience of travellers in this season of the year, I resolved to travel in the night, and to rest in the day, when the sun had most power. I came out of Yamsk at eleven oclock in the evening, our caravan consisting of nine large sledges, or nartas47. At break of day we found ourselves at the foot of a mountain, fifty wersts from Yamsk. The Koriacs have given it the name of Babouschka, or grandmother. The summit, they say, is the tomb of an old sorceress, equally renowned and formidable. My guides maintained that it was the loftiest mountain in this part of the world; but their superstitious fears seem to have magnified it, as, in my opinion, that of Villegui is much steeper, at least I found more difficulty in ascending it. Arrived at the top of the Babouschka, they placed iron cramps under their feet, in the form of small tripods, and fastened, transversely under the sledges, tolerably large sticks, in order to impede the velocity in descending. No farther care was necessary than that of guiding them with the oschtol, or stick pointed with iron, and we came to the bottom without any accident. The inhabitants of the country however consider this descent as dangerous, particularly when the inequalities are filled up with snow, which in that case become so many concealed and inevitable gulphs, and, I am inclined to believe, frequently prove fatal to travellers. In all probability, the dread which the Koriacs entertain of this Babouschka originated in the following manner. As a natural effect of their prejudice, they feel disposed to acts of gratitude the moment they find themselves out of danger. The Koriacs who attended me were eager to hang up their offering, which consisted of small quantities of tobacco, scraps of fish, pieces of iron, c. upon the summit where they suppose the sorceress to sleep. Others had left there before them old cramps of iron, knives, arrows, and broken arms. I perceived a Tchouktchi javelin ornamented with ivory, and I advanced to seize it with a view of keeping it, but the cry of my conductors stopped me. What would you do? said one of them. Are you desirous of ruining us? Such a sacrilege would draw down upon us the most dreadful calamities, and you would be unable to pursue your journey. At this apostrophe I could have laughed in the face of the timid prophet, if I had not stood in need of the succour of these people. To continue to merit it, it was necessary to respect their error, and I assumed therefore a becoming gravity; but no sooner had they turned their backs, than I laid hold of this terrible arrow, as a monument of their absurd credulity. The first village I came to was Srednoi There is something picturesque in its situation, which is upon the border of the sea, at the entrance of a deep bay that loses itself in the land, by forming the channel of a small river, the water of which is always free from any brackish taste. The Koriacs, who inhabit it, received me with cordiality. I rested myself for a few hours in one of the two yourts, which, with a number of magazines, constitute the whole ostrog. The yourts are constructed like those of the fixed Koriacs, with this difference, that they are not subterraneous, and that the entrance is by a door upon a level with the ground. Muscles abound on these coasts, and are the principal food of the inhabitants. I came away in the evening with fresh dogs, and travelled eight wersts upon the river Srednoi. The ice, in various places, broke under our sledges, but the hardiness and skill of my guides extricated us from the difficulty. Obliged to go on shore to free the vehicles, they had the precaution to put on their rackets, that they might have a more extensive footing on the ice. But the greatest inconvenience in travelling on this river was occasioned by the slipperiness of the ice; our dogs were unable to support themselves, and fell down every moment one upon another. Before noon of the 26, we reached the ostrog of Siglann, the last in the Koriac territories, which is upon a river of the same name. It is seventy seven wersts from the preceding, and is neither larger nor more populous. It contains only one yourt, built like those of the Yakoutes, the description of which I shall defer till my arrival with these people. I stayed at Siglann to arrange the skates of our sledges, that is, to fasten plates of whalebone under them, which the melting of the snow rendered necessary, and I departed at five oclock in the evening. I first crossed a bay, called by the name of the village. It was large, and appeared to be well defended, except at the south and south east. The whole coast is of considerable height, and the bay extends so far, that I was eight hours in gaining the western cape. Farther on I found another curvature not less considerable, called the Bay of Ola. In spite of the velocity of our pace, we were ten hours in passing over the widest part of it. The 27, about three oclock in the afternoon I stopt at Ola, a Toungouse ostrog, a hundred and fourteen wersts from Siglann. It is situated upon a sandy flat at the mouth of the river Ola, which, widening at this place, affords a small harbour, to the extremity of which the Toungouses retire in the severe weather. They had quitted it two days before, and had taken possession of the ten yourts that make up the village, and in which they reside as long as the warm weather lasts. These yourts are not formed underground, like those of the Kamtschadales and the majority of the fixed Koriacs; they are also longer and of a superior construction. The walls are supported by thick posts, and there is a narrow opening at the top of the roof, that extends from one end to the other; the fire place is in like manner of the same length as the house. Eight feet above the fire, which is kept in during the whole summer, they hang upon cross beams their stock of fish and sea wolves, in order to dry and smoke them, and this indeed is the chief advantage of these buildings. By means of two doors in opposite sides of the yourt, they are able to introduce whole trees and enormous pieces of wood, with which the fire is supplied. Each family have their bed in little distinct huts in the sides of the building. The yourt I entered was divided into apartments, the walls of which consisted merely of prepared fish skins, sewn together, and stained with different colours. This singular tapestry has by no means a disagreeable appearance. The winter yourts are round, and built upon the ground like the summer ones. The walls are constructed of large beams, placed perpendicularly, and the covering is inclined like the roofs among us, with a hole in the top for the evaporation of the smoke. They have a door, the bottom of which is upon a level with the foundation. Some of them have within a kind of corridor, which breaks the column of air, so that the smoke issues more freely. The instant of my arrival at Ola, I was visited by a number of women, some dressed in the Russian, and others in the Toungouse mode. Expressing my surprise at seeing them so fine, I was informed that it was the village feast; it was also, I understood, a part of their coquetry to appear in their best attire before strangers. Of their most esteemed ornaments, embroideries of glass beads seem to have the preference. Some of them are wrought with tolerable taste; among others, I observed one on the boot of a young girl that had an admirable air of lightness; it concealed in no respect the beauty of the leg, that was covered with a kind of pantaloon of skin, nicely fitted, over which hung a small petticoat. There is a striking resemblance between the Russians and Toungouses; they have similar features and the same language. The men are strong and well made; some of the women have an Asiatic appearance, but not the flat nose and broad face of the Kamtschadales and the majority of the Koriacs. Mildness and hospitality seem to be characteristic qualities of these people. It was not from a defect of zeal, on their part, that I did not procure the succour I wanted; but their ability was so small, that they could only change a part of my dogs. Upon leaving this village we proceeded on the sea. The ice embarassed us considerably in the course of the night, and the frequent cracks which we heard under us, were not calculated to dispel our fears. At break of day we reached the main land, in order to surmount a steep promontory. Our way was so complicated, that we had allowed ourselves seven hours to gain the sea again, but the descent was more difficult than had been represented, and it was necessary to make ourselves a passage through a wood of birch trees. One of my guides, suffering himself to descend like the rest, by the mere force of the slope, from the top of the mountain to the bottom, was overturned by the shock of a sledge, which struck against him just as he was turning an angle. He endeavoured to lay hold of the trunk of a tree, and unfortunately fell upon the pointed end of his stick, which entered his side; he had also received a violent blow in the head, and we were obliged to place him on one of our baggage sledges. At the foot of the mountain we had another perplexity, occasioned by the sea being broken up. How great had been our risk during the night! My conductors were terrified at it equally with myself. What will become of us, cried they? It is now that we have the most alarming dangers to encounter. Dissembling my uneasiness, I attempted to encourage them. We continued our course for some time along the shore; a melancholy silence prevailed among my people, whose countenances were expressive of consternation. In about half an hour the person at the head of the file suddenly stopped, exclaiming that it was not possible to proceed any farther. I conceived at first that his terror magnified the difficulties, and I sent my soldier Golikoff with one of the most experienced of my guides to examine our situation. They quickly came back, and confirmed the ill tidings. Golikoff advised that we should return, and endeavour to find a way by land, but my guides rejected his counsel, declaring that it was nearly impossible to ascend, on this side, the mountain we had just passed, and that even if we succeeded, the route would be too considerable, and also too dangerous on account of the rapidity of the thaw, and their little acquaintance with the country. They concluded by proposing to us to abandon our sledges, to select the most valuable part of my property, and to cross the bay by leaping from one sheet of ice to another. But the current began to put them in motion, and the sea was covered with isolated pieces; it may be supposed therefore that I felt no great inclination to adopt this mode of travelling, to which however the people of the country are frequently reduced. I knew not what plan to follow; at length I resolved to try myself if I could not find some practicable path along the shore. A chain of rocks, which, through its whole extent, presents to the sea a flat perpendicular surface, and consequently without the least appearance of strand, was the description of the shore I visited. The sea, in carrying off the mountains of ice which had concealed its surface, had left a horizontal crust suspended to the side of this enormous wall, which was not more than two feet wide, frequently not more than one, and scarcely one foot in thickness. Eight feet below this sort of cornice, you saw the waves beating against the rock, and innumerable shelves that the eye discovered in the sea, and that seemed about ten feet below its surface. I did not suffer these observations to discourage me, but immediately committed myself to this perilous cornice. Emboldened by its solidity, I advanced softly in a sidelong direction, my face turned towards the rock. It offered no hold to the hands, but only now and then a narrow cavity, into which I threw myself to recover breath; after having passed the gaps of the crust, which continually presented themselves to my steps, the ice being in certain places completely washed away, and a breach left of two or three feet in length. At first I must confess I felt myself intimidated, and did not leap them without trembling: the least error in position, the most trifling accident would have destroyed me. My companions could not have relieved, nor even so much as have seen me. This progress continued for three quarters of an hour, at the end of which I reached the other extremity of the rock, and no sooner had I arrived than I forgot the dangers of the way to think only of my dispatches. I had left them under the care of my soldiers, but I alone could undertake to save them. The experiment I had made encouraged me, and proud of my discovery, I did not hesitate to return upon my steps. My people condemned my conduct, which they considered as rashness, and expressed their astonishment at seeing me again. I concealed not from them that the way was hazardous; but as no accident had happened to me, why, I asked, should you be deterred from following me? I will once more make the attempt, and I hope upon my return to find you free from apprehension, and disposed to imitate my example. I immediately took up my portfolio, and the box that contained my dispatches. My two soldiers Golikoff, and Nedarezoff, whose dexterity I had already experienced, consented to accompany me. Without their assistance it would, I believe, have been impossible to save this precious deposit; we carried it in turn, exchanging it from one to another. He that had last received it, for instance, who always marched foremost upon this narrow parapet, threw it suddenly into a hollow place of the rock, advancing at the same time a few steps; the others came after him, took up his burthen, and relieved themselves from it by the same manuvre. I cannot express what I felt during this operation; at every stride of the bearer over the gaps of the path, I imagined I saw my box ready to fall into the sea. Twenty times it was upon the point of escaping from our hands, and I felt my very blood curdle as if I had seen death itself gaping under my steps. Indeed I am not able to say what would have been the effect of my despair, if I had had the misfortune to lose it. I knew not a moments ease till I had deposited this solemn charge in a place of safety; my joy was then as vehement as had been my anxiety. This second success inspired me with so much confidence, that I no longer doubted of the possibility of transporting our sledges in the same manner. I communicated my ideas to my soldiers: animated by my example, and by the event of their first experiment, they cheerfully returned with me for this new undertaking. By my order they had unharnessed a part of the dogs; they now fastened to the four corners of the sledges long thongs of leather which I directed to be held by those who were before and behind the vehicle. We presently found the utility of this precaution; our sledges were sometimes wider than the parapet, and of consequence only rested on one skate, so that the load must have overturned them into the water if they had not been strongly supported; at other times the ice, as I have said, was entirely gone, when it was necessary to give them a sudden elevation in order to preserve their equilibrium. The muscular arms of my guides were scarcely equal to the weight, and it was sometimes as much as all of us could do to keep one another from falling. It was to no purpose, for us to grapple the rock; it was perpetually to be feared that one of us should draw in the other, or that the ice should suddenly fail under our feet. We however suffered nothing but the apprehension. We returned once more to fetch the rest of our dogs. It seemed as if these poor animals judged better than ourselves of the extent of the danger, so much did they bark and draw back, particularly at the difficult passages. It was to no purpose to cheer them with our voice, it was necessary to strike them, or to pull them rapidly after us. There were four of them, who from aukwardness or terror, could not leap like the rest. The first perished in our sight without the possibility of our assisting him48, the second remained suspended by his fore feet; one of my guides, supported by his comrade and leaning forward, was fortunate enough to save him; the other two were supported by their traces, and were easily extricated from the peril. These various crossings backward and forward occasioned us seven hours incessant labour and apprehension. We were no sooner out of danger than we returned thanks to heaven like so many persons escaped from death. We embraced one another with transport, as if each had owed to his companion the preservation of his life. In short, our happiness was better felt than it is in my power to describe. We made all possible haste to remedy the disorder of our equipage, and immediately proceeded on a flinty strand, the breadth and solidity of which relieved us from all disquietude. In about two hours, at a little distance from the ostrog of Armani, we met a number of sledges returning empty to Ola, and which of course could have no other way than that which we had just passed. We informed the conductors of the difficulty, and wished them equal success. The village of Armani is eighty wersts from Ola. It consists merely of two yourts, a summer and a winter one, situated by a river of the same name. We passed on to the house of a Yakout, three hundred paces farther, where, it was said, I should find a better lodging. It was a yourt in the middle of a large wood of fir trees, and had been inhabited by him thirty years. In his absence his wife received me with the utmost cordiality. She offered us milk, and a sourish beverage made chiefly of mares milk, called koumouiss. Its taste was by no means disagreeable; and my Russians, in spite of their superstitious aversion for every kind of food that comes from the horse, highly relished it. The husband arrived while this was passing, who was a venerable old man, but as yet full of health and vigour. Informed of the object of my journey by his wife, and my soldier Golikoff, who, being a native of Yakoutsk, served as interpreter, my host instantly cleaned the most distinguished place in the room that I might repose myself. I was awaked by the lowings of the herd which came into the yourt. Eight cows, a bull, and a number of calves, divided the apartment with me. Notwithstanding this company, there was an appearance of cleanliness, and the air was sweet and wholesome. This Yakout does not pass his time like the Koriacs and Kamtschadales, in catching and preparing fish, a species of food upon which he sets little value; hunting, and the care of his cattle, occupy his whole attention, and supply all his wants. Besides his herd, he has also ten horses, which he uses for various purposes, and which are kept in an inclosure at a little distance from the yourt. Every thing about this habitation has an air of ease, and creates in the spectator tranquil and cheerful feelings. I know not whether the sight of the herd, the appearance of plenty, or the excellence of the milk provisions communicated some charm to our repast, but I conceived it to be the most sumptuous I had made for a considerable time. The master of the house had the kindness before my departure to add some game to my stock of provisions. We separated the same evening mutually satisfied with each other. I travelled the whole night, and arrived in the morning at the fort of Taousk, being a distance of fortytwo wersts. This ostrog, where, in conformity to the plan we had laid down, we spent the day, is situated on the river Taon. It contains twenty isbas, a small church served by the vicar of Okotsk, and a building for the reception of tributes, surrounded by palisades in the form of bastions. Twenty Yakouts, two chiefs, and some other Koriacs, who, attracted by the situation, have settled there, make up the whole of the inhabitants. The garrison consists of fifteen soldiers, commanded by a serjeant named Okhotin, at whose house I took up my abode till the evening. In the night I passed through the village of Gorb, peopled by Yakouts, and a small number of Koriacs. At break of day we lost sight of the sea. We had for some time journeyed upon the banks of the Taon, and gradually we advanced farther into the land. During 1 and 2 May, we travelled through fields, and upon the river Kava, without perceiving a single habitation. The 3, at the very instant when we were about to halt in the middle of a wood of fir trees, a gale of wind rose, accompanied with a heavy snow. My tent, suspended over the sledges containing our baggage, served us for a shelter. But it was necessary to have a fire. My conductors, who undertook to procure wood, were buried as high as their waists in snow, and even with their rackets they sunk up to their knees. In the afternoon the wind changed, and the sky became clear. We immediately mounted our sledges, but the depth of the snow obliged us to alight in turns to open a passage for the dogs. In the morning of 4 May, we passed over the mountain of In, two hundred and twenty wersts from Taousk. It may be compared in height to that of Babouschka. When at the summit, the cold pierced us to such a degree that we stopped to kindle a fire. In about five hours we came again to the sea, which we left at a short distance from the village of In, where we arrived in the dusk of the evening. This ostrog is thirty wersts from the mountain, and is peopled by Russians and Yakouts, whose habitations are isbas and yourts. They have the care of a stud of two hundred horses, which we had an opportunity of seeing, ten wersts from the village. I intended to have changed my team, and sat off again immediately, but I was detained by the difficulty of procuring dogs. The chief of the place was dead drunk, and it was not till after an hours importunity and search that we were able to procure an adequate supply. Twentyfive wersts from In, where, that I might make the greater speed, I had left my equipage under the care of my faithful Golikoff, with orders to follow me as quickly as possible, I passed two yourts inhabited by Yakouts and Toungouses. The name of this hamlet is Oulb. Farther on I met a number of convoys with flour, which was to be distributed in the neighbouring villages, and made into biscuits to supply the ships of M. Billings, of whom I shall presently have occasion to speak. We came again upon the coast, and I travelled fortyseven wersts without quitting it, during which time I saw a number of sea wolves, and a whale driven upon the shore. At the top of the mountain called Marikann, that is at the distance of twentyfive wersts, I had the pleasure to discover the town of Okotsk, but I was attacked by a gale of wind that made me apprehensive of a new delay. Regardless of every thing but my impatience, I continued my route, resolving to brave all accidents. My courage however was not put to the test; before we reached the shore the weather was calm, and I was able to satisfy my curiosity by examining the wreck of a vessel that was driven on the coast. Having crossed, with trepidation, the river Okhota49, I entered Okotsk 5 May, at four oclock in the afternoon, accompanied only by Nedarezoff. I alighted at the house of major Kokh, vested with the command in the absence of M. Kasloff, whose arrival with me he had long expected. The governors letter informed him of the cause of our separation, and I gave him a brief account of the melancholy circumstances attending it. I hastened to pay my compliments to Madame Kasloff, and deliver the packets entrusted to my care, but she was in the country four wersts from Okotsk, and I was so fatigued that M. Kokh would not permit me to wait upon her that day. An express was sent off with the letters, and my apologies, and I fixed on the next day for my visit. Presuming that I principally stood in need of repose, the major obligingly conducted me to the apartment destined for me in the house of M. Kasloff. I found every convenience of which I had been deprived ever since my departure from Ingiga. In the space of three hundred and fifty leagues I had not, except once at Yamsk, slept in a bed. As soon as I rose in the morning I was visited by M. Kokh, and the principal officers and merchants of the town. M. Allegretti, surgeon to the expedition of M. Billings, was among them. From the facility with which he spoke the French language, I should have taken him for a countryman, if he had not, upon introducing himself, informed that he was an Italian. My meeting with him was the more fortunate, as the pain in my breast had returned. I hesitated not to consult him, and am happy in having an opportunity to declare, that to his skill, and the care he bestowed upon me during my stay, I am indebted for the perfect cure of my complaint. M. Kokh conducted me to his house to dinner, where I had an opportunity of becoming better acquainted with him50. His kindness extended so far as to form a thousand plans of amusement, which he was eager to communicate with the hope of inducing me to make some stay with him. If my duty had not prohibited every voluntary delay, I could not easily have resisted the urgency of his invitations, and the fascinating pleasure of his society; but faithful to my trust, it was necessary to sacrifice my inclinations and my repose to the rapidity of my journey. I convinced my host of this, and yielding to my reasons, he became satisfied with my eagerness to quit him, and even seconded my zeal by assiduously providing the means for my departure. The rain had been incessant since my arrival, and the people who were sent out to examine the roads, conceived them to be impassable, at least with dogs. From their report, the daily increase of the thaw deprived me of all hope of advancing farther, unless by means of rein deer, and M. Kokh therefore sent an express to a horde of wandering Toungouses that had left Okotsk a few days before, to procure me a supply of these animals. Having taken these measures, the major accompanied me to Boulguin, the country house of Madame Kasloff, who received me as the friend of her husband, and the companion of his dangers. The object of her affections was the subject of our whole conversation. She demanded an account of all our difficulties at the period of our separation. It was in vain that I attempted to soften in my description such circumstances as were calculated to impress themselves too forcibly; her sensibility told her that it was from an unwillingness to give her pain, and it only alarmed her the more. I did not well know how to console her, for I was not myself without anxiety respecting this valuable man; but assisted by M. Kokh, I assumed with tolerable success an air of serenity. I had recourse to conjectures; and the major, on his part, mentioned a variety of consoling expedients; and at last we restored tranquillity to the mind of this affectionate wife, by flattering her with the speedy arrival of M. Kasloff. This lady was born at Okotsk, and appeared to have had the best education; she spoke the French language with elegance. In the solitude of her retreat, her chief happiness was placed in educating a daughter about three years old, the express image of her father. Having made all my visits to the officers of the garrison, I returned to Boulguin to dine with Mrs. Kasloff, as I had promised, when she gave me letters to her relations at Moscow. The next day our express arrived, but he had not been able to overtake the Toungouses, who had separated, and were dispersed through the country. Here ended of course our hope of rein deer. Meanwhile it seemed necessary that I should not defer my departure, as the roads became worse every day. The longer I wait, said I to myself, the less capable shall I be of reaching the cross of Yudoma before the rivers are entirely broken up, and the greater will be the risk of my being stopped by the floods. Filled with these reflections, I renewed my entreaties that M. Kokh would allow me to proceed. It was in vain he alledged the many disagreeable circumstances I should experience, the obstacles I should encounter, the dangers to which I should be exposed, from the season being too far advanced to travel with sledges; I persisted in my resolution. At last he complied, and promised to give the necessary orders, that nothing might prevent my setting off the next day, upon condition that I would return the moment I found myself in any imminent danger. I was glad to obtain my liberty, and consented to all that he proposed. I spent the remainder of the day in walking about the town in order to give a description of it, accompanied by a number of persons who were able to assist my enquiries. Longer than it is wide, the town of Okotsk extends nearly in a direct line from east to west; the sea is at the south within a hundred yards of the houses, and the interval between consists of a flinty strand; at the north the walls are washed by the Okhota; to the east is the mouth of this river, that is, at the extremity of a neck of land upon which the town is built, and that extends from thence to the west. The town has nothing in it extraordinary; the structure of the houses has little variety, as they are only isbas, a few of which, situated to the east, are larger and more commodious than the rest, and are destined for the use of the officers. M. Kokh lives at the other end of the town; the gate of his court yard opens into the high street, the regularity of which is broken by a square, in which are the house of the governor, and the sessionshouse, both of them under the same roof. Opposite to them is the guardhouse, and on the left side of the square the parish church. These buildings have no very splendid appearance. They were formerly enclosed with palisades, of which there are still some vestiges. The remains of a gate to the west of the government house, shews that this was what they called a fortress. Behind it is a street reaching almost to the river, inhabited by tradesmen, whose shops, regularly arranged, line each side of the street. The port is so very insignificant, that I could not have called it by this name, if I had not counted in it seven or eight vessels or galliots, some of them belonging to the crown, and others to merchants, who carry on a fur trade with America. The port is to the east, almost at the extremity of the town, and near the river, by a kind of appendage to which it is formed. Upon the invitation of M. Hall, lieutenant in the navy, I accompanied him to the dock to see two small ships that were building for the voyage of discovery intrusted to M. Billings. The sailors, soldiers, and carpenters, had been sent out at a very considerable expence; and the armament, which goes on rapidly, must cost the empress an immense sum. Faithful to his promise, M. Kokh had made all the preparations for my departure, and 10 May in the evening, my sledges being loaded and harnessed, I took leave of him and the rest of the officers, who expressed their desire of seeing me return. My company was augmented by two men, who were to serve me as pilots on the river Yudoma. I travelled all night, notwithstanding the wretched state of the roads, which corresponded with the report that had been made. They were completely covered with water, and in some places, the woods in particular, it reached to the bellies of our dogs. The wind continued south, the sky became more clouded, and every thing indicated that the thaw was not likely to cease. In the mean time, having crossed the river Okhota, I arrived without accident to the village of Medvejgolova, or bearshead, which is fortyfive wersts from Okotsk, and is inhabited by Russians and Yakouts. I entered very early in the morning, but our dogs were so weary that I was obliged to spend the day and even the night there, being unable to procure a fresh supply. I had hoped to be at Moundoukan the next day, which is twenty wersts from the preceding ostrog. Half way a part of our dogs refused to draw, and we reluctantly ventured upon a river that seemed to offer us a more commodious way. We had scarcely advanced a few paces, when we heard a sudden crack under our sledges; the next moment I felt myself gently sink, but a piece of ice still kept me up. It broke a second time, and my skates became almost invisible. Every effort to extricate myself would have been fruitless, as the least motion must have carried me forward and plunged me into the water. Fortunately it was only four feet deep; by their exertions, my people at last drew me from my embarassment, but they were nearly as much in want of assistance themselves. Deaf to the remonstrances of my conductors, I was desirous of proceeding, but we soon found it necessary mutually to aid each other in gaining the bank. Meanwhile the snow melted so rapidly, that our dogs paddled in the water without advancing a step, and fell one upon another exhausted with fatigue. Among my guides was a serjeant, whom M. Kokh had given me for my better security. His reputation for courage and experience led me to consider him as my compass and guardian, and I kept my eye fixed upon him, observing his motions and studying his countenance, which had hitherto been inflexibly composed. In the midst of the murmurs of the rest of my company, he had not uttered a word nor altered a muscle of his face, so as to discover any emotion. I naturally construed this silence into a disavowal of the fears with which they attempted to fill me, and his tranquillity as an encouragement to go on. Never had my astonishment been greater than to see him suddenly stop, protesting that he would not proceed a step farther. I interrogated him, and urged him to explain himself. I can no longer be silent, he answered, influenced by a sentiment of vanity, and a desire to display superior courage, I have hitherto withheld from giving my opinion respecting the hazardous measure you are desirous of pursuing; but the more I admire your intrepidity, the more I think myself bound to prevent the fatal consequences it may occasion, and to inform you of the many dangers and obstacles that will every instant spring up before you. The majority of the rivers are already disencumbered of their ice, and could you so far succeed as to pass them, you would soon be overtaken and surrounded by the floods. What will then be your resource? To seek an asylum on a mountain or in a forest, if you should be fortunate enough to meet with one. Like the inhabitants51 of these cantons in such circumstances, can you build yourself a cabin on the tops of the trees, there to remain a fortnight or three weeks till the waters shall subside? And are you sure that even in this lofty retreat they will not reach you, or force you down, together with the tree that serves as your support? Are you sure that your stock of provisions will preserve you, during this interval, from the apprehensions of famine? If this summary view of the calamities that await you are not sufficient to intimidate you, proceed; you are your own master; I have done my duty, and must beg leave to quit you. This blunt remonstrance, and the terrible prediction it contained, did not fail to make a strong impression on my mind, and I considered that I could not do better than return immediately to Okotsk, from which we were only fiftyfive wersts distant. We reached Medvejgolova the same evening, where I stayed till four oclock in the afternoon of the next day. From thence to the river Okhota I felt no other inconvenience than that of travelling very slowly, but to compensate for this short respite, we experienced, when we came to cross the river, new perils and new alarms. I confess that I was equally terrified with my people, and dared neither measure with my eye the width of the river, nor lose sight for a moment of the trace of my sledge. The instability of the ice, which was moved up and down by the current, made me apprehensive that it could not bear the weight of so many passengers, and I expected every instant that an abyss would open and swallow up some of us. At length having gained the bank, we counted over the company one after another, to convince ourselves that no one was lost, and the pleasure of having escaped this tremendous danger, gave wings to the remainder of our journey to Okotsk, where we arrived the 14 at noon. So speedy a return, occasioned some pleasantries on the part of M. Kokh and the other officers; each reminded me of his prediction; but I was less confused at the folly of my attempt, than mortified and distressed at its failure. I calculated with grief that my stay in this town would not perhaps be less than a month. Engrossed by a thousand melancholy ideas, I was for some time incapable of returning any answer to the demonstrations of joy and friendship which were heaped upon me. All the obstacles I had met with from my first landing at the port of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, occurred at once to my mind, and I conceived that the invincible hand of fate opposed itself to the success of my embassy. It was to no purpose that I employed every means of being expeditious; it was to no purpose that I had pushed my zeal to rashness, and on many occasions hazarded both my life and my dispatches. What a distance was I still from Petersburg! In the mean time six months are frequently known to be sufficient for this journey; and a vessel leaving Bolcheretsk in July, will, if it meet with no accident, commonly arrive at Okotsk in three weeks or a month, and sometimes in twelve or fifteen days. From Okotsk to Yakoutsk, on horseback, is only the business of a month, and in like manner from Yakoutsk to Irkoutsk, whether we sail down, the Lena, or ride along its banks. At Irkoutsk it will probably be necessary to wait six weeks till the frost sets in, and by means of sledges it is easy travelling to Petersburg in a similar portion of time; the governor general has performed it in twenty eight days. It is impossible to express my impatience and despair, when I contrasted the tediousness of my journey with this expeditious mode of travelling. Eight months had already elapsed, and I was no farther than Okotsk. It is true, I had no choice of season, and had been detained nearly three months at Bolcheretsk; obliged beside to make by land the tour of the peninsula of Kamtschatka, I had had to contend with tempests and a thousand obstacles, each more grievous than the preceding. These delays had been equally involuntary and unavoidable; and though they may be pleaded in my justification, they do not remove the regret that is inseparable from the recollection of them. It is always distressing not to be able to execute the trust reposed in us, particularly when it is known, that at a different season, and under other circumstances, the task would have been easy; but it is still more distressing, when attended with the anxiety to see our native country and our dearest friends. Such were the reflections which agitated my mind on my return to Okotsk; and for many days they poisoned the pleasures that every one was desirous of procuring me. At length, however, the attentions I experienced, and the amusements that poured in upon me on all sides, dispelled my chagrin, and there was no longer any merit in my resignation. Among the officers of the garrison, I owed peculiar obligations to M. Loftsoff, inspector general. He gave instant orders that the belt of their wretched horses should be collected from the environs, and kept in readiness to set off at a moments warning52. This precaution enabled me to seize the first favourable opportunity, which, I flattered myself, would be sooner than they gave me reason to expect. Mrs. Kasloff, informed of my return, had the kindness to send me every day an abundance of milk, which she knew had been prescribed by M. Allegretti, as the only food that could relieve my breast. I was the more obliged by this attention, as it was not possible to procure milk at Okotsk at any price. In a few days I heard news that gave me real pleasure. An express from Ingiga informed us of M. Kasloffs arrival in that settlement; but he had brought no letter from the governor; and our joy soon gave place to anxiety. In what situation had he arrived? Why had he not written? His health perhaps would not permit him? We all questioned the messenger in turns, and it was with difficulty he could convince us of his safety; but the probability of his account, its invariable uniformity, and our own hopes, so natural, when the person in question is dear to us, persuaded us at last that our fears were vain; and in spite of my melancholy experience of the difficulties of the route, and the unfavourableness of the season, blinded by my attachment, I frequently deceived myself, and lessened the obstacles, from my desire to see him before my departure. Okotsk being the seat of administration, and the entrept of the Russian commerce in this country, I found myself at the fountain head of knowledge respecting these subjects. The society in which I lived, offered me a thousand opportunities of instruction, which it was impossible not to embrace. I first applied myself to the study of commerce, by enquiring into the causes that gave rise to, that favoured and increased the enterprises of the Russian colonies in this quarter of the world. I was assisted in my enquiries by the most enlightened persons and the best informed merchants; and to ascertain the truth of their accounts, I frequently contrasted them with each other, and compared them with the assertions of Coxe. I beg leave to transcribe, in this place, the notes which I minuted down for my own information. If they should contain any details sufficiently interesting to obtain pardon for the digression, I shall have gained my end, and be amply rewarded for my labour. By the conquest of the eastern part of Siberia, the Russians came into possession of the fruitful mines with which it abounds, and which were held in no estimation by the inhabitants. To the extraction of iron, the conquerors added that of silver, gold, and other precious metals, the eternal objects of the avarice of mankind. The discovery of these new sources of wealth, enflamed the courage of the adventurers; the result was, that they were desirous of extending their dominion still farther, and their eager regards reached beyond Irkoutsk, which ought on this side to have bounded their empire. Upon their first incursions into the neighbouring countries, they perceived, with regret, that they had not the same advantages to hope for. Nature appeared every where to have acted as a stepmother. The sterility of the soil, which equalled the rigour of the climate, and the stupid sloth of the savage inhabitants, who were chiefly hunters, herdsmen, or ichthyophagi, men who subsist on fish, offered no flattering resources to industry, and was directly calculated to check all speculative ideas. But ingenious avarice knew how to acquire wealth even here. The view of the clothing of the savages, suggested instantly the idea of robbing them of it, and the emigrants calculated the possibility of succeeding by the lure of exchange, and the immense profit that would accrue from this branch of commerce, when it was once in their possession. As they proceeded farther to the east of Asia, it was remarked that the furs were more beautiful; and this was sufficient to persuade Russia that it was her interest and glory to subject every part of this vast country to the obedience of her laws. Hitherto it had been the theatre of the piracies of a herd of Cossacs and Tartars, with whom some Russians, instigated by the same spirit of plunder, had united themselves. The success of their attempts being known, the allurement of riches attracted a greater number of emigrants, whose audacity increased in proportion to the resistance they met with from the indigenes. In vain had nature placed these savages in barren deserts, in the midst of forests, where their independence seemed to be out of the reach of attack; in vain had she given them frosts, mountains, and seas of ice as barriers; every thing is surmountable by ambition, a rage for conquest, and a thirst for riches. The courage of the natives incited them every day to fresh combats, but it could not save them from oppression; the conquerors, if I may so speak, sprung up again in proportion as they perished in these bloody contests. Frequent reinforcements, countenanced by the government, repaired these losses, and gave no time to the vanquished to recover from the surprise and shame of having yielded to a handful of foreigners, whose usurpations became more enormous on every victory. By force of arms they were already masters of the whole territory as far as Okotsk, and northward had advanced to the banks of the Anadir. To secure so many advantages, a system of government and commerce was necessary; and immediately forts were constructed and towns built. These establishments, paltry as they were, opened an asylum to Russian, and other commercial speculators, who were acquainted with the route through these provinces. Here they could resort, when tired of their perilous expedition, and derive succour against the insults of the primitive inhabitants, who were always disposed to throw off the yoke and make reprisals. Independently of the vexations of every kind that were exercised against them, doubtless without the knowledge of the court to which they were become tributary, the natives frequently suffered still farther from the treachery, cruelties, and all the excesses practised by ferocious conquerors, when intoxicated with success, and goaded on by the abuse of riches and power, and the hope of impunity. In practising these barbarities, individuals were emboldened by the example of their superiors, even of such as were appointed to stop the disorders, which became at last so enormous as to excite the indignation of the empress. The produce of the customs no longer flowed with equal abundance into the treasury; the tributes were either annihilated or diminished by the persons appointed to collect them. Hence the frequent change of governors, whose depravity or incapacity was justly accused, and merited at least an instant recall. Hence the want of discipline among the troops, the confusion of all order among the colonists, the daily accusations, the murders, and all the crimes that anarchy engenders. It happened exactly the same at Kamtschatka, when a chief of the Cossacs53 reduced the inhabitants of that peninsula to submit themselves to the Russian yoke. How heavily did it at first bear upon them! how many troubles, how many depredations, how many revolts did it occasion! This intestine and cruel war ceased not till a better mode of government was adopted. A new order of things then took place; the rights of the indigenes were more respected, the taxes were less arbitrary, every function was more faithfully discharged. Freed from the shackles that loaded it, commerce began to prosper, speculations multiplied, the wealthy merchants of Russia sent their factors to Okotsk, and this town became the metropolis to other settlements that gradually sprung up. The eligibleness of its situation in the center of the conquered provinces, gave it this preference, notwithstanding the smallness of the port; but the navigation is almost entirely confined to coasting, and the ships that trade to Kamtschatka are chiefly galliots. The cargos which they brought back, that is, the valuable skins obtained from the inhabitants by way of exchange, or as tribute, were afterwards sent to the center of the empire, where they were sold under the eyes, as it were, of government, and chiefly on its account. The caprice of the purchasers, whether natives or foreigners, was the only standard of the market: the art of the sellers was directed to raise the price of their merchandise; but from the skill of the one, and the eagerness of the other, no real benefit accrued, except to the revenue, in consequence of the enormous duties levied upon every thing that is bought and sold. In the mean time Okotsk flourished, and the number of merchant ships that arrived in and sailed out of the port increased every day: more considerable connections gave rise to more extensive views. Russian caravans, leaving Siberia behind them, passed from desert to desert to the very borders of China. After some warm contests, and a variety of treaties infringed and broken, it was at last settled that the two nations should trade together on the frontiers. This privilege, which China had not granted to any of the neighbouring powers, was calculated to give to Russian commerce54 an unbounded extension. The merchants were no sooner informed of this new market for the sale of their furs, than they exerted themselves to procure a greater abundance. Their vessels, entrusted to pilots chosen from government ships, sailed for the east of Kamtschatka. These navigators, more daring than skilful, were fortunate beyond what they had reason to expect; they not only discovered some unknown islands, but returned from their voyage loaded with so considerable a cargo of most beautiful skins, that the court of Petersburg considered herself as bound to bestow a more particular attention to these discoveries. Resolved to pursue them, from the hope of one day adding these islands to the number of her possessions, she entrusted the execution of her designs to the most able marine officers, such as Behring, Tchirikoff, Levacheff, and others equally celebrated. Some fitted out their vessels at Okotsk, and others sailed from the port of Avatscha, or Saint Peter and St. Paul, at the point of Kamtschatka; all were eager to traverse the vast archipelago that opened before them; all proceeded from one discovery in pursuit of another. Copper island, Behring island, the Aleutienne and Fox islands, were found in turns, and new tributes enriched the royal treasury. Having wandered a long time over the seas, these happy Argonauts reached the coast of America. A peninsula (that of Alaxa) presented itself to their view; having landed, they understood that it formed a part of the main continent; every thing indicated that it was the new quarter of the world, and full of joy, they sailed back to their country. Scarcely had they given an account of the success of their voyage, proved by the useful observations they made, when the views of commerce were eagerly directed towards a region that offered inexhaustible resources. Russian factories were established at Alaxa55, and the immense profit accruing to them has, in spite of the distance, supported ever since between the factors and their principals, the strictest correspondence. The following is the mode of traffic adopted at Okotsk, whence a number of vessels sail every year for America. When a merchant has resolved to make this voyage, either in person or by means of one of his agents, he asks the consent of the governor, which is seldom refused. The cargo is divided into shares, and every person is at liberty to purchase. The shares amount only to the sum necessary to defray the expences of fitting out, and purchasing the articles of merchandise, which consist of stuffs, iron utensils, glass trinkets, handkerchiefs, brandy, tobacco, and other things held in estimation by savages. The officers and sailors have no wages, but are allowed a part of the cargo, which is called pa. The voyage lasts three, four, or six years; and from a spirit of avarice, the vessel is conducted to such places as are the least frequented, and even new discoveries are attempted56. Upon their return, these ships undergo a strict search. The owners pay duties to government, regulated by the nature of their cargoes, and estimated by the bills of lading. An appraisement is then made of the remainder, which is divided into equal portions: each owner receives either in kind or in money the amount of his capital, (allowing for freightage, and loss) and his share in the profits, if any have accrued. It will readily be perceived that it is chance alone in a manner that decides upon the quantum of dividend or deficit. In fine, part of the goods are sold at Okotsk, and part transported to Yakoutsk, from thence to Irkoutsk, and last of all to Kiakhta, where the Chinese are the established purchasers. The mode of government is equally entitled to attention. During my abode in the peninsula, the tribunals of which, as I have already observed, hold from those of Okotsk, I obtained the fullest information on this subject57. I had only therefore to consider more attentively the discipline of the garrison, and the police of the town, which equally astonished me. I expected to see, as it formerly was, a licentious soldiery; that is, a band of ferocious Cossacs, robbers by nature, and ignorant of every law but their caprice or interest. Not a day passed without some of them deserting with arms and baggage, and frequently the magazines were pillaged by this audacious troop. It was to no purpose that the representatives of the sovereign practiced severity to put a stop to these desertions and plunderings; it was to no purpose that all the criminals, whom it was possible to apprehend, were subjected to the battogues, or gantlet, and other punishments practiced in the Russian army. These desperadoes were so hardened to stripes, or so incorrigible, that they incurred the next day new penalties; nor could the severest punishment restrain them, or deter others. At present however the garrison is subjected to a still severer discipline, and instances of disobedience are more rare. Great praise is due to the reformers, whose perseverance and ability have operated such good effects. Equal attention has been paid to the department of the police, which it was no easy task to establish in a town that has a considerable number of exiles among its inhabitants. The majority bear the indelible marks with which the hand of justice has branded their guilty heads, and the rest, condemned to the gallies, meditate incessantly during their labours in the port, how to break their chains with impunity. Sometimes escapes are effected, and woe to those places where these culprits betake themselves! But the continual vigilance of the governor does not long permit them to enjoy this fatal liberty; they are soon apprehended and punished, and by being loaded with heavier chains, all fears for the public safety are removed. The conduct of M. Kokh on this occasion struck me as equally prudent and determined; to a spirit of moderation, which forms the essence of his character, the utmost inflexibility is united. The Lamouts, the Toungouses, and the Yakouts, fail not also to find employment for administration, either by the complaints which they occasion, or by their frequent insurrections, particularly at the time of levying taxes. This department is intrusted to the care of M. Loftsoff, inspector general, who, by his activity and prudence, has the art of appeasing the tumults, accommodating the disputes, and executing without violence the decrees of his sovereign. I had an opportunity of judging how perfectly satisfied all parties were with his conduct. Such was the prosperous situation in which I found this branch of the general government. May the testimony which I am desirous of giving in its favour, be contrasted with the first accounts, and guard the reader against the disadvantageous prejudices, which a view of the former defective government is calculated to inspire. The new governors are at least intitled to this justice, that if abuses still prevail, they exert themselves without intermission to put a stop to them, in proportion as such abuses become known. A report lately prevailed, I know not from what authority, that there was an intention of removing the inhabitants of Okotsk, either to Oudskoi, or some neighbouring settlement. If the court have really such a project in view, it must have felt, I should suppose, the necessity of having a more considerable town in this quarter, and that convenience, extent, and security, will determine its choice of a new port. I have promised the reader some account of the commission of M. Billings. I have already observed, that he has two ships building in the dock of Okotsk, but I should be considerably at a loss to say what is their destination. It is not possible to penetrate the mystery; and all I know is, that M. Billings, from his reputation, and the abilities he displayed in one of the voyages of captain Cook, who was his countryman, has been invited into Russia, and, with the rank of captain, appointed to command a secret expedition, the object of which is supposed to be that of discovery. The powers accorded to him seem to be boundless; and materials, workmen, sailors, every requisite, in short, have been supplied by the court. For the sake of dispatch, M. Billings had divided his men, and sent a part of them to Okotsk under the superintendance of M. Hall, his lieutenant, to construct two vessels, while he himself made, with the remainder, for the Frozen Ocean, in stout sloops and other ships hastily built in the river Kolum. The end of this first expedition is as yet a secret, and various conjectures are formed respecting it. The most intelligent persons agreed in supposing that he was to make the circuit of this part of Asia, to double cape Sveto, and endeavour to return to Okotsk by the sea of Kamtschatka. If such were his project, it is probable that he met with some insurmountable obstacles in its execution, as he returned, after three months navigation, to the river Kolum, and sailed from thence for Yakoutsk. The armament under the direction of M. Hall had been suspended for a considerable part of the winter, but was revived and carried on with vigour during my abode at Okotsk. The hull of one vessel was already finished, and the keel of another laid in the dock. The ropemakers, blacksmiths, carpenters, sailmakers, caulkers58, had separate workshops. The continual presence of the superintending officers animated the zeal of the workmen. Notwithstanding this diligence on all sides, to which I was a witness, I doubt whether these ships will be fit for sea these two years. The river Okhota had always been disencumbered of its ice before 20 May; to the great astonishment of the inhabitants it did not begin to float this year till the 26 in the afternoon. It was a spectacle for the town, and I was invited as to a party of pleasure; but from the idea that it must be similar to what I had seen at Petersburg, I discovered little inclination or curiosity. Importuned however upon the subject, I went to the river. The crowd was already assembled, and I was immediately assailed on every side by the unanimous vociferations of those about me, who exclaimed in full chorus at sight of the enormous sheets of ice which were lifted up by the rapidity of the current. The noise of some seemed to drown that of others, and the multitude flocked together without end. The next moment loud groans struck my ears. I endeavoured to discover whence these cries proceeded, and I saw a number of men and women running like so many persons in despair along the bank. I approached with trepidation, persuaded that some unfortunate child was in danger of being drowned; but I soon discovered my error. A troop of about a dozen dogs was the cause of this lamentation. Their masters, either from avarice or compassion, bewailed in concert the fate of these poor animals, whose loss seemed inevitable. Seated tranquilly on the ice that supported them, they looked with an air of astonishment at the crowd collected upon the bank, whose clamours and signs could not move them from their posture. Two only had the instinct to attempt to save themselves, and gained with difficulty the opposite side; the rest were out of sight in a few minutes, and, conveyed into the main ocean, must there infallibly have perished. These dogs were the only victims of the breaking up of the ice; but its effects have been sometimes so terrible, as to have occasioned the removal of all the houses59 near the river. The scattered ruins bear witness that many of them have been overturned by this fatal event, and I was informed, that in the course of some years, nearly a fourth part of the town had been destroyed by it. The inhabitants wait with impatience for the period when the river shall regain its natural state; it is time that the fishing season should commence, and relieve them from the famine that begins to prevail. The stock of fish procured in the preceding summer had been scanty, and was nearly exhausted. The supply of meal was also considerably diminished, and what remained was so dear that the common people were unable to purchase. The humanity of M. Kokh signalised itself on this occasion. There was a reserve of rye flour in the stores belonging to government, and he distributed it among the indigent class of the inhabitants. This afforded them some relief, but it was not of long duration. M. Kokh, who received a number of persons at his table, was reduced to the necessity of having recourse to a few eatables which he had laid by in the preceding year. At last we had nothing to eat but beef dried in the sun. To get a supply of fresh provisions, the major sent out a party to hunt deer and argali, but they had only once the good fortune to be successful. The thaw being ended, he ordered the seine to be immediately used. I was present with a large party, and the spectacle was much superior, in my opinion, to that to which I had before been invited. It is not easy to express the pleasure, the transport of the multitude of spectators upon the first cast of the net. A prodigious quantity of small fish, like smelts and herrings, were caught, and the joy and clamour redoubled at the sight. The most famished were first served, and the whole produce of this fortunate beginning given up to them. I could not restrain my tears on perceiving the ravenousness of these poor creatures; whole families contended for the fish, which were devoured raw before my eyes. To these fishing enterprises, which became more successful every day from salmon60, and other large fish coming up the river, succeeded the diversion of hunting water fowl61, which were so abundant as to cover the surface of the water: this was a new means of subsistance for the inhabitants. In the mean time the season advanced, and in spite of the frequent fogs, we had now and then some fine days. They were the more acceptable, as the snow had fallen during the night of the 29 two inches deep, and the cold was so severe as to be one degree below zero. The waters gradually abated, but there was no appearance of vegetation. Some blades of rotten grass, the melancholy fruit of the last efforts of Nature at the close of autumn, was the only nourishment that the earth afforded to the horses, till the return of the genial influence of spring. I was already anxious to be gone, and though I could not deceive myself respecting the miserable state of these animals, I intreated M. Kokh to order such as had been appointed for my use to be collected, resolving to leave Okotsk 6 June at latest. His orders were punctually executed; and thanks to his cares, to the kindness of Mrs. Kasloff, and the liberality of a number of friends, whom I left in this settlement, I found myself all at once amply provided with bread and biscuit. Had it not been for the recollection of the famine, I should have felt myself flattered by these presents; but the idea that I was to support myself with the sacrifices of friendship, hurt my feelings, and it was not without considerable pain that I was obliged to keep what no refusals could induce them to take back. The evening preceding my departure was devoted to taking leave. I had the pleasure to learn that M. Loftsoff intended to accompany me to Moundoukann, and that lieutenant Hall, called to that place by some affairs relative to the armament under his care, was to go with us. I had little expected a third companion, doubly dear to me, but M. Allegretti informed me, that he had prepared every thing to conduct me as far as the cross of Yudoma. How great were my surprise and gratitude, when I understood that personal attachment was the sole motive of his journey! Of my two soldiers, Golikoff only attended me; Nedarezoff staid at Okotsk, but I took his father to serve me as pilot on the river Yudoma. A number of workmen, as I had agreed with the major, were to set out immediately after me, to repair the boats, which would be found unfit for service, that I might not be exposed to new dangers or new delays. All my preparations being completed, I tore myself from the arms of M. Kokh. A number of inhabitants did me the honour to attend me to the gates of the town, where our horses waited for us, and where, after mutual reiterations of good wishes, we separated: my hosts carried with them, I trust, the conviction, that they had not entertained a man insensible to obligation. At sight of the horse I was to mount, I drew back with horror and compassion. I had never seen so wretched an animal. His sides were lank and hollow, his buttocks narrow and peaked, so that you might count every bone they contained, his neck unsupported, his head between his legs, his haunches nerveless and weak. Such is the exact description of my steed. You may judge of the figure of the other horses, among which mine passed for one of the least despicable. The saddle had a considerable resemblance to our own. Those which were provided for our baggage were smaller, made of wood, and perforated with holes; upon the top there were two sticks fastened crosswise on which the load62 was suspended, taking care however to make the weight equal on both sides, as the smallest disproportion would infallibly have prevented the beasts from maintaining their equilibrium. It was in this pitiful plight that our caravan sat out. To console ourselves for the slow pace we travelled, each was merry at the expence of his steed. Twelve wersts from Okotik, a tolerably large salt work was pointed out to me on the sea coast; the men employed in it were all malefactors or convicts. Beyond this house we left the sea at our left, and travelled for some time on the banks of the Okhota. If the breaking up of this river occasion such alarm to the inhabitants of the town, its overflowings are not less fatal to the environs. Rising above the banks, the water not only floods the adjacent country, but becomes a torrent, that swells as it extends itself. It has been said to rise two feet above the tops of the highest trees. From this account one may suppose its ravages to be dreadful, and certain it is that I saw in the forests gulfs of an astonishing depth, said to be the work of these floods. Within a short distance from Medvejgolova, my horse fell under me, and it was impossible to make him get up again; I had fortunately time to quit the saddle, and received therefore no injury. We left the beast on the spot63, where it doubtless expired a few hours after. We had still eleven horses remaining; I was therefore remounted in an instant, and reached the village without meeting with any other accident. We proceeded the next day, at nine oclock in the morning, and forded the river Okhota, the course of which we were no longer to pursue. I perceived here and there some Yakout yourts at a considerable distance from each other: seldom are any number of them seen together. The disposition of these families to live in this isolated manner, results from a motive of interest that is of the first importance. Horses being their chief source of wealth, if the proprietors (some of whom possess more than a thousand) built their habitations nearer to each other, how would they be able to procure nourishment for their numerous studs? The neighbouring pastures must soon be exhausted, and it would be necessary to send multitudes of them to a considerable distance; but how many inconveniences would result in consequence of the negligence or dishonesty of the keepers. Arrived at Moundoukann, our horses were so fatigued that we passed the night there and all the next day, which was 8 June. I have already observed that this village is twenty wersts from Medjevgolova; it gives its name to a river on which it is situated. At break of day I separated from M. Hall and M. Loftsoff, who were to stay in this place. I first climbed a high mountain called Ourak, the summit of which was still covered with snow; it reached to the bellies of our horses, who suffered extremely in this passage. A river of the same name runs at the foot of the mountain. It is wide, deep, and rapid; and on its bank is a yourt inhabited by watermen. They were at this time all absent, probably a hunting, as their open house indicated that they had not long been departed. Tired of calling and waiting for them, we launched the least defective of the boats that were fastened on the bank, and after searching about we found some oars. We unloaded and unsaddled the horses, and placed the baggage in the boat, which in turn conveyed us to the other side. Our steeds still remained, and I trembled lest they should not be able to swim across. The security of my Yakouts in this respect appeared to me unaccountable; by dint of whipping them, they forced them into the water; the boat went before to guide them, and one of our conductors was left on the bank to pelt them with stones and frighten them with his cries, so as to prevent their turning back. In about half an hour they all arrived safe, when they were immediately saddled and reloaded64, and we pursued our journey. The weakness of our horses obliged us to halt twentyfive wersts from Moundoukann, in a place that offered us most pasture, and that seemed to have few traces of bears. From a fast of six months, it is easily conceived how much the voracity of these animals is to be dreaded. Deserting their dens, they prowl about the country, and from the want of fish, with which the rivers do not yet abound, they ravenously attack every animal they meet, and particularly horses. We were obliged to take precautions even for our own safety. From the following description, the reader will be able to form an idea of the nature of our halts. Having fixed upon the spot, the horses were eased of their burthens and permitted to graze at liberty. Fires were then kindled at equal distances round our little camp, and at the entrance of my tent I repeatedly discharged my musquet, being assured that the report and smell of the powder would terrify and drive away the bears. At break of day our horses are assembled; if any of them were dispersed they came at the cry of my Yakouts, who possess the same talent in this respect as the Koriacs with their rein deer. Surprised at seeing tufts of horse hair suspended to the branches of trees, I asked the cause of it, and was informed that they were offerings made by the people of the country to the gods of the woods and highways. My guides had their favourite places, where they piously deposed similar gifts. This superstition is at least productive of one good effect, as the offerings may serve to point out the road to travellers. In the course of the preceding day we had crossed various branches of the river Ourak, the ramifications of which are infinite, but none of them occasioned us any delay. The 11, about five oclock in the afternoon, we met this river again: its width was not very considerable, and, but for the rain65 that had fallen and swelled the current, we should have felt no hesitation in fording it as we had done in the preceding instances. My principal guide represented it as dangerous; but having been forewarned that if I listened to their advice they would frequently make me halt even at noon day, to repose themselves rather than from a wish to refresh their horses, I resolved at least to have the depth founded. The experiment however convinced me that my guide was in the right. The person whom I ordered to go into the river was quickly obliged to return, as his horse lost footing a few steps from the bank. It was necessary to pitch our camp in the neighbourhood, where our horses fortunately found something to eat. That I might lose less time, I restricted myself to one regular meal in the evening, satisfied with the refreshment of rye biscuit in the course of the day; but I had desired my people to inform me whenever they perceived any game66, and we lived for some time on the fruits of my success. Necessity is an able master, and custom supplied the want of skill. If I happened to kill any small animals, they fell to the lot of my Yakouts, except the skins, which they returned to me. Golikoff had given me a disgust to this food, which I conceived from his report to be very nauseous. Tempted however one day by the whiteness of the flesh, when boiled, I eat part of one of these little animals: they taste of the fir, but are less disagreeable than I had been led to believe. In a time of scarcity, I should have considered them as very acceptable, and can forgive the Yakouts their high relish of them. Their principal food, which they call bourdouk, gave me infinitely more repugnance. It is a kind of thick frumenty, made of rye meal and water, into which, after it is taken off the fire, they pour fish oil: the quantity they eat of it astonished and shocked me. I was told that in general they were not very great eaters; it was however added, that they now and then, as a treat, roast a horse, which is demolished in a few hours by a very small number of guests, and the intestines of the animal are by no means the least precious morsel. Who would suppose that men of such voracious appetites, practice at other times a frugality that seems scarcely sufficient to support life, and frequently continue a number of days together without food? I was awaked at an early hour by my guides, who came to inform me that the river had considerably abated during the night. While they were loading our baggage a number of horsemen arrived, who had in like manner been detained on the opposite side; they crossed without any risk, and inspired us with the fullest confidence. They were bankrupt merchants going to try their fortune, as factors of a man of property, whose speculation had obtained the concurrence of the court, and all the succours that he wanted. Its object was the fur trade, particularly that of sables, caught by the Koriacs and Tchouktchis. These factors were to separate at the mouth of the Pengina, and advance considerably into the country. They were allowed four or five years for their undertaking, and their intention was not only to collect furs from every quarter in the way of purchase, but to hunt themselves the animals that furnished them. Apprehensive of no other obstacles but what might be occasioned by the natives, they were provided with ammunition and arms to repel their insults. In quitting us they turned an eye of pity on our poor beasts, while we on the contrary observed with envy the strength and good condition of theirs. Coming from the environs of Yakoutsk, where there is no scarcity of winter provisions, these horses were a perfect contrast with ours, which appeared still more wretched from the comparison. When we had passed the river, I asked my guides if I might hope that it was the last we should cross. They replied in the negative, informing me that we should meet with three others in the course of the day. From their description I judged that they must be new branches of the Ourak. Be this as it may, my fears increased every time, and the idea that the horse might fall with my box, made me shudder. Upon coming out of a thick wood, I found myself on the bank of a real torrent, the stream was so rapid, and the breadth of the river scarcely less than two hundred yards; at a little distance it poured itself into the Ourak. In the mean time we conceived it to be fordable, and with this confidence I spurred my horse to make him descend. In the middle of the river I felt his legs tremble. I encouraged him; he proceeded, and the water now reached no farther than my knee. Emboldened by this circumstance, I placed myself firm in my seat, having been thrown something off my center by a sort of dizziness which the continual view of the current perpetually excited. Already I approached the opposite bank, the climbing of which required new efforts. To ascend it, it was necessary to surmount a ridge of ice which still remained attached to it. The declivity was steep, but it would have been in vain to have fought for a better landingplace. My resolution was soon taken, and I directed the animal towards the perilous ascent; already he had gained a position for his fore feet, and he rested them as well as he could to bring forward his hind ones. He lost his footing, and fell backward into the water; the horse and the rider floated in different parts of the stream. The water was deep, and the cumberousness of my dress restrained my efforts. Both the animal and myself were carried along by the violence of the current, and I insensibly grew weaker. I was approaching the place where the two rivers joined, when on a sudden I heard a voice saying, Catch at the bridle of your horse, or it is over with you! The sound, the idea of the danger reanimated me; I struck forward with all my strength, stretched out my hand, and seized the rein. Providence was undoubtedly watchful for my preservation, for at the same moment my horse took footing and breath; an instant later, and we had been lost. I slided my hand to the upper end of the bridle, and then threw my arms strongly round the neck of the animal. Thus I remained suspended as it were between life and death, not daring to move a finger, and calling aloud for succour. My faithful Golikoff had in vain endeavoured to follow me in my misfortune; the vigour of his horse did not correspond to the zeal of the rider; anxious and impatient, it was he that had given me the salutary and terrible advice of grasping at my horse; and no sooner did he perceive its happy effects, than he hastened on his part to climb the shore. To land, to run towards me, to lay hold of my horse and drag him out of the water, and to restore me to life, was all the affair of five minutes. My first care, having leaped on the neck of my deliverer, was to tear off the portfolio which was fastened to my girdle. In spite of the oil case in which it was enveloped the water had penetrated into it, and I trembled for the fate of two important packets which count de la Perouse had particularly recommended to my care. I had the pleasure to find that they were but little injured. My box I had left on the other side; my uneasiness respecting it was soon dispelled by the arrival of M. Allegretti and my other companions, who placed it in my hands. They were still pale and dismayed at the accident I had encountered, and considered it as a miracle that I had been able to save myself. I had seen death too near me, not to be of the same opinion. We again mounted our horses, but I confess that my blood froze in my veins, when we approached a river; I took care in future to send one of my guides before, and was not free from apprehension till he made me a signal from the opposite bank. During this day, as well as in every preceding one since our departure from Okotsk, we constantly travelled through forests, or along the banks of rivers. In the woods the trees67 that line the roads are small, but so bushy and so beset with briars, that my Yakouts were frequently obliged to clear the way with their hatchets68, which still slackened our pace, though we never went at a greater rate than a walk. I arrived in tolerable time at Oratskoplodbisch. This was the first habitation I had seen since the yourt belonging to the watermen, and I spent there the rest of the day. The river Ourak flows at the foot of this hamlet; the number of inhabitants amounts only to five soldiers, each of whom has an isba. They are appointed to guard a magazine for the reception of effects belonging to the crown, sent from Okotsk or Yakoutsk. Upon occasion they convey the merchandize as far as the mouth of the Ourak; but this river is so obstructed, sometimes with flats and sometimes with cataracts, and the embarkations at the same time are so weak, that the navigation is equally painful and dangerous. The next morning, which was the 13, I crossed this river in a boat; it takes its rise at no great distance, from an immense lake where we halted in the evening. The lake is situated upon an eminence, is about seven wersts in circumference, and is said to abound with fish. I cannot pass over in silence a scene that took place this day among my Yakouts, respecting a horse that it was necessary to leave in the road. They had stopped, and were holding a consultation round the animal. Impatient at seeing no end to their discussion, I was about to witness my discontent, when they forestalled me, intreating my indulgence for the delay they occasioned me. Accountable for the horses committed to their care, it is customary, when they lose any of them either by accident or from excess of fatigue, to cut off the tail and the ears, which they are obliged to produce to the proprietor to exculpate themselves, or pay the value of the animals. The dispute at present was, whether they should put an end to the poor dying beast. This required some time, which I was not in a humour to sacrifice to them, and I replied therefore somewhat angrily, that there was a more simple, more expeditious, and less cruel way of effecting this end. I promised them a certificate, that should attest the loss and supply the place of the usual proofs, by taking the blame of their failure in this respect upon myself. They acquiesced without hesitation in my proposal, and this deference was no small proof, I was told, of their respect. From the hope of travelling quicker, I committed our baggage to the care of old Nedarezoff, and went on before with M. Allegretti, Golikoff, and a Yakout. A pond presented itself, the depth of which might be about a foot. I rode into it with M. Allegretti, and Golikoff followed holding my box on his saddle. He had scarcely advanced ten steps when the horse stumbled and threw him off sideways; but more intent upon his deposit than his own preservation, he fell upon the box, having taken care not to relinquish his hold. I immediately alighted to assist him; but having fallen in the mire, he had sustained no injury. His greatest trouble proceeded from my box being wet, but I consoled him by shewing him that the water had not touched the inside. Our horses were so fatigued, that we were obliged to alight and lead them by the bridle, while the Yakout whipped them severely behind. We travelled in this manner the whole day, resting every half hour, where the new grass69 began to appear, in order to recover in some measure our poor beasts. About three oclock in the afternoon we arrived at the cross of Yudoma70. On an eminence, secure from the overflowings of this river, which extends its impetuous waves to a great distance, are a number of magazines guarded by four soldiers, and which serve them as an asylum when their common habitations by the side of the Yudoma are flooded: these soldiers practice also the business of watermen, and are at the service of travellers. Upon seeing my passport they submitted themselves entirely to my disposal. Unfortunately all their boats were in a condition the most wretched that can be imagined, and we had neither materials nor workmen to refit them. Those who had been sent from Okotsk were not likely to arrive soon, and I was impatient to embark71 in order to sail down the rivers Yudoma, Maya, and Aldann. Among these soldiers, one only had ever made this voyage, and nine years having since elapsed, he had totally forgotten the course. I was advised not to try him, unless all the others refused. My only resource therefore was Nedarezoff, who had attended me in order to serve as pilot; but what a pilot! He had once, twelve years ago, been upon this river, and all he remembered was, that he was three years in going from Yakoutsk to Okotsk. He conducted at that time a considerable convoy of timber, anchors, cordage, and other materials for fitting out an armament. Of the four boats that were on the strand, I chose the best and the narrowest, which was twelve feet long by six wide72. On examining it, I found that it must be caulked, tarred, and have an additional plank at the head to enable it to resist the force of the waves. With two boards, and some nails from an old boat, one of the soldiers, who understood a little the trade of a carpenter, effected the latter part of the business, but we wanted every material for the other repairs. We ransacked the magazines to no purpose, and during the whole night I ceased not to puzzle my brain in order to invent some expedient. At break of day, as I was going to visit the workmen, I trod on an old and large cord that lay on the bank. Elate with my good fortune, I carried it to my soldiers; instantly it was cut to pieces, and unravelled; we had thus a supply of tow, and the three most important leaks were stopped. The difficulty was to fasten and keep in the tow; my workmen proposed to me to cover the chinks with laths, but we had no nails of any sort. Necessity is the mother of invention. With a wimble, which was the only tool we had, we made holes round the leaky places; some small cord, which I found in my baggage, being passed through them, and the holes afterwards filled up with pegs, the laths were so firmly fastened as to prevent the water from penetrating the boat. At three oclock in the afternoon our repairs were completed, the helm fixed, and the oars adjusted; and I ordered my people to be ready by the next morning. When we were just on the point of setting off, a caravan of Yakoutsk merchants appeared; they were going to Okotsk, and I entreated M. Allegretti to embrace the opportunity of accompanying them. Our separation took place at nine oclock. On leaving him, all the services he had rendered me, and the proofs of attachment he had evinced, presented themselves to my view, and made an impression on my heart. I engaged two of the soldiers to row me, one of whom was the man that had before made this voyage; Nedarezoff was at the helm; and Golikoff and I were to relieve him when he should be tired. The rapidity of the current carried us on with such violence, that we could easily dispense with the oars. At the rate we sailed my soldiers had no doubt that we should reach the famous cataract before night, which was more than eighty wersts from the place of our departure. Their conversation turned solely upon the dangers we should have to encounter. Though I was already prepossessed with the idea of their inexperience, by continually hearing these discourses, dictated by fear, I began at last to be alarmed myself, and resolved to act with all possible prudence, that I might have no reason to reproach myself. I frequently went on shore, and walked along the river to see how far the navigation was safe. Towards the evening a west northwest wind, brought on rain. Rather than run any risk in such bad weather I halted, and ordered my tent to be pitched over the boat. The next day, after four hours navigation, interrupted by frequent landings to observe the approach of the cataract, we at last perceived it. Accompanied by my two pilots, I went to examine the spot. At a short distance from it I saw a little stony island, which is only perceptible when the waters begin to fall. My soldiers advised me to pass, if the waters were sufficiently high, by the way of a canal which we should find at the right; though the descent was very rapid, they assured me that it was nothing in comparison with that of the cataract. This advice engrossed my whole attention, and having convinced myself of its utility, I returned to the boat, resolved to put it in practice. I encouraged my people in the best manner I could, and then took the helm. Nedarezoff sat by me, and Golikoff assisted one of the rowers, for we had only two oars. We proceeded in this manner till we reached the conflux of the two streams, one of which led to the canal, and the other lost itself in the cataract. The impetuosity of the latter would have drawn us into the abyss, but for the skill and strength of my rowers. The instant the signal is given, their nervous arms are stretched to strike the oar, and to struggle against the waves; the waters rage and foam, and the violent shocks they give to our boat, my unceasing exhortations, and more than all the fear of being destroyed, redouble the ardour of my soldiers. We are at length extricated from the treacherous current, and enter into the canal. How smooth did its waters appear after this terrifying passage! To give my people rest, I abandoned myself to the gentle declivity of the stream: the helm was sufficient to direct the boat. When we were at the foot of the cataract, curiosity led me to turn my head. I trembled at its dreadful aspect, and thanked heaven for having afforded me a different way. Nine boats out of ten that should attempt this passage, would infallibly be wrecked:the reader shall judge. What must be the fate of so small and feeble a float, if, in defiance of danger, it should be permitted to follow the course of the torrent? In its precipitate descent, I see it the sport of the waves that roll one upon another, and fall with a deafening noise from a height of twenty feet upon three enormous rocks concealed by the foam, and over which it must necessarily pass. Without a miracle, how should it avoid sinking, or escape the being dashed to pieces? Meanwhile, when the water is so low as to render the canal not navigable, there is no other way left. My guides informed me that the boats were always unladed before the risk was attempted, and that this was all the precaution that was taken, and all the skill that could be displayed by the pilots. These cataracts are called porog. We had still a difficult pass to make, that terrified my people; it is called Podporojenei, or the ebb of the cataract, which is about the distance of a werst from it. They were still talking of it when we arrived, and I had scarcely time to explain to them the manuvre which I thought it necessary to practice. Our object was to choose the deepest side; the blackness of the water seemed to point it out, and I steered towards it. The multiplicity and bulk of the waves tossed us about with more violence than if we had been in the open sea. All at once our boat was pitched upon a rock that was on a level with the water, and which none of us had perceived. We were thrown down by the force of the shock; my companions imagined themselves to be lost, and had not the courage to raise themselves; it was in vain I called upon them to row on; they paid no attention to my cries. I caught hold of the helm, and perceiving that the boat had sustained no injury, I animated their drooping spirits, and prevailed on them to take their stations. We owed our safety to the moss with which the rock was covered; the boat touched it in its passage, and glided along without suffering any damage. To avoid this accident, it is necessary to pass exactly in the middle of the stream, and to pay no attention to the waves which rise, and seem to break against the rocks. The passage is about three hundred yards. At the bottom of this podporojenei, another river empties itself; the clearness of its water, and the smoothness of its current by the side of the agitation and turmoil of the Yudoma, form so striking a contrast, that the eye for a long time distinguishes the one from the other. At the left of this last is another arm equally formidable, and which is called Tschortofskoprotok, or devils arm. It pours itself into the Yudoma about thirty wersts from where this river joins the Maya. It is known by the number of rocks and dead trees that obstruct its entrance; if you are not careful to steer constantly to the right, you are drawn in by a very rapid current, and your ruin is inevitable. I hoped to kill a bear that was prowling on the bank; I loaded my gun with deershot, and fired at it, but in spite of its wound it fled to the woods, and I lost sight of it. The next moment a beautiful rein deer started fifteen paces before me, but my gun not being charged, it escaped. I saw also a number of argalis, swans, geese, and a fox, but I could reach none of them. This day I perceived, for the first time since my departure from Yudomskoikrest, a forest of pine trees. To make up for it, I had not been able to count the numerous woods of firs that presented themselves to my view, both on the right and left, and it is this tree73 that furnishes the masts and other timber used in all the dock yards on this coast. I felt myself indisposed by the attack of a fever, but I paid no great attention to it; I merely laid myself down in the boat, and observed no other regimen than that of drinking cold water. We no longer halted during the night, as our navigation was become perfectly easy. Notwithstanding the assertions I had heard, I could not easily believe that the Ourak was more rapid than the Yudoma. We sailed on the latter ten, twelve, and frequently fifteen wersts an hour. Its most regular direction appeared to be west, and it forms at its mouth a great number of small islands. I entered the Maya on the 22, at two oclock in the morning, and proceeded in a direction nearly north, but inclining now and then to the east. The banks of this river are less steep, less dreary than those of the preceding, though at intervals there are mountains and even rocks. The difference of the current was still more perceptible, as we only sailed four wersts an hour. About noon we met nine boats loaded with a variety of military stores for M. Billings expedition. They were drawn by men, and were going up the rivers that we had descended. I was not able to approach them, but I knew that they were bound for Okotsk, under the command of M. Behring, son of the navigator, to whom Russia owes such interesting discoveries on the northwest coast of America. He expected, I was told, to be six weeks in performing what had cost us only four days. The gnats became troublesome to us to a degree that was almost insupportable. We had no other way of keeping them off than by the smoke of rotten wood, with which we were obliged to make an incessant fire in the night as well as in the day. In the afternoon of the 23, I quitted the river Maya for another, larger and more rapid, called the Aldann74; but I merely crossed it, in order to gain a habitation on the other side, opposite to the mouth of the Maya75. I found there some marines belonging to M. Billingss expedition, who advised me to embrace the opportunity of a number of horses of burthen, lately arrived, and that would on their return convey me as far as Amgui. According to my itinerary, I was to go by water to Belskaapereprava, which is in the usual course from Okotsk to Yakoutsk, but in going by way of Amgui I should considerably shorten it. This certainty, and the happy chance that provided me with horses, induced me to alter my previous plan. I paid my guides76, and as their orders were to leave the boat at Belskaapereprava, which was a hundred and fifty wersts farther, they continued their course on the Aldann. They were not a werst from me, when I repented the having dismissed them. The Yakouts, to whom the horses belonged, and who were apprehensive of fatiguing them too much, heard with regret that I intended to make use of them. Not daring openly to refuse me, they endeavoured to escape by stealth: they were pursued, and by dint of promises brought back. To make sure of them we were obliged to shut them all up in one isba, from which they were not permitted to come out till they had consented to conduct me to Amgui; the precaution had in the mean time been taken of selecting ten of the best horses for my use. After a good nights rest, which effectually recovered me from my slight indisposition, I gaily mounted my horse, accompanied by the Yakouts, who had been lectured by Golikoff, and were become more docile. I was astonished at their good humour, which made them sing the whole way. Their music is by no means agreeable, and consists of a monotonous and continual shake in the throat. They are however great improvvisatori. Their words cost them no labour or efforts of genius, and the subject is derived from whatever passes before them, or occurs to their mind. If a bird flies by their side, they will make a song of it that shall last for an hour. Not that their imagination accumulates ideas; the song, on the contrary, is nothing more than an endless repetition of the words, Lo! the bird in his flight! For the space of a hundred wersts we travelled across a moving swamp, in which our horses sunk so deep that we were obliged to alight in order to assist in extricating them; the rest of the way was not so bad. In the midst of a large wood, I saw upon the border of a lake two fishermen employed in making their winter provisions. Their whole habitation was merely a roof made of the bark of trees; when the summer is at an end, they seek among their relations a less exposed and warmer retreat. The 25, we had a great deal of rain, particularly while I halted, which was from four oclock in the afternoon till eight in the evening. My Yakouts, to defend themselves from it, placed upon their shoulders a bears skin in the manner of a cape. The tail of a horse, fixed in the large handle of a whip, served to keep off the flies. We were so harassed by them, that I hesitated not in having recourse to this species of fly flap. The 26 furnished nothing remarkable. I arrived in the evening at the border of the river Amga, two hundred wersts from the harbour of the mouth of the Maya. Its depth took from us all desire of crossing it by fording, and the boats in the mean time were all on the opposite side. We called for assistance, but it was to no purpose. Out of patience at seeing no person appear, one of my Yakouts stripped himself, and swam over to fetch us a boat. The crossing of our whole caravan was not completed in less than an hour. We immediately mounted our horses, in order to reach the habitation of a Yakout prince, named Girkoff. In our way I saw a number of yourts, but they were all at least a werst from one another. At a little distance from that of the knesetsk, or prince, Golikoff went on before, to endeavour to procure us a good reception. The prince really showed me great civility; he not only offered me his yourt, and treated me with milk and excellent butter, but promised that his best horses77 should the next day be at my service. Being informed that I stood in need of repose, he pointed out the hut he had destined for me, and while it was preparing, he had the politeness to show me the conveniences of his yourt, which was one of the best I had yet seen. The size of these houses varies according to the wealth of the proprietor, and the number of his family. Beams, placed by the side of one another, and plastered with clay, form the walls, which are not like ours, perpendicular. Inclining towards the top, they support a roof, the slope of which is very inconsiderable: in some yourts the roof is supported by posts. The house has but one door, and is divided, as I have already observed, into two apartments. The cleanest is inhabited by the family, who sleep in distinct huts, distributed at equal distances against the walls, and which I can compare to nothing better than the small cabins in Dutch ships: every couple have a hut to themselves. The other part of the yourt is for the cattle, and is nothing more than a stable. In the center of the building is a round chimney made of wood, and guarded from accidents by a thick clay covering. When they light a fire, the wood is placed perpendicularly. Cross beams are occasionally placed in the chimney, upon which they hang their kettles, and these are repeated, in proportion to the number of vessels they have to boil. In one corner of the yourt a leathern trough is fixed, and mares milk every day put into it, and stirred with a stick, similar to what is made use of in churning butter. Every person who enters, the women particularly, before they attend to any other business, stir the milk a few minutes; it is by this means they procure that sourish, but at the same time pleasant beverage, called koumouiss. If allowed to ferment, it becomes a very potent liquor. My host spoke the Russian language tolerably well78; I embraced the opportunity of drawing from him some information respecting the customs, manners, and religion of his countrymen, which I shall insert in this place, together with some notes that I had before made on these subjects. When summer commences, they leave their winter habitations, and with their families, and a small number of horses, go to make their harvests of fodder for consumption during the frost season. They repair to a considerable distance from their yourt, and to the most fertile cantons. In their absence, the horses are left to the care of the servants, and the neighbouring pastures serve for the maintenance of all their herds. I very much regret the not having been present at their festival in the month of May, in celebration of the return of spring. They assemble in the open country, where they roast oxen and horses; and being supplied with an abundance of fermented koumouiss, they eat and drink to satiety, dancing and singing at intervals, and concluding at last with necromancies. Their chamans preside in these festivals, and deal out their extravagant predictions. These sorcerers are more at liberty and more revered than in Kamtschatka. Regarded as interpreters of the gods, they grant their mediation to the stupid Yakout, who implores it with trembling, but always pays for it. I have seen these dupes give their finest horse to conduct a chaman to his village. Nothing can be more frightful than the magic exhibitions of these impostors. As I knew nothing of them but from report, I was desirous of being present. I was astonished at the veracity of the account that had been given me: as I have already accurately related it79, I shall content myself with describing the chaman that exhibited before me. Dressed in a habit that was ornamented with bells and plates of iron, which made a deafening noise, he beat besides on a bouben, or tabor, with a degree of force that was terrifying. He then ran about like a maniac, with his mouth open, and his head turned in every direction. His black deshevelled hair80 concealed his face, and beneath it proceeded at one moment real groans, the next tears and sobs, and then loud peals of laughter, the usual preludes of these revelations. In the idolatry of the Yakouts, we find all the absurdities and superstitious practices of the ancient Kamtschadales, Koriacs, Tchouktchis, and other inhabitants of these countries. They have however some more solid principles; and amidst the ridiculous fictions under which they are buried, we meet with ideas ingenious enough respecting the supreme being, miracles, and future rewards and punishments. But I was chiefly struck with the vivacity and singularity of their turn of mind. They delight in the fables drawn from their absurd mythology, and they relate them with all the confidence of credulity itself. By comparing them with our own, one is tempted no longer to hold in such esteem our ancient and modern fabulists, when we see this species of composition cultivated by such rivals. The two following fables were translated for me by Golikoff, word for word. There arose one day in a large lake, a violent contest between the different species of fish. The question was the establishment of a tribunal of supreme judges, whose business it should be to govern the whole finny tribe. The herring, and most diminutive fish, conceived that they had as much right to the prerogative as the salmon. From one thing to another the dispute became so warm that the small fish united in a body against the large, who took advantage of their weakness to insult and persecute them. Hence intestine and bloody wars that end in the destruction of one of the two parties. The vanquished, who escaped from being killed, fled to the small canals, and left the large fish, who had the victory, masters of the lake. Such is the law of the strongest. The other fable bears a greater resemblance to our old womens tales, with which children are terrified, and the tediousness of a rustic evening beguiled. I should be apt to suspect that it was the production of a chaman. A Yakout had failed in respect, or done some injury to his chaman. The devil, to avenge the latter, transformed himself into a cow; and, having mixed in the herd, contrived, while it was feeding by the side of a wood, to steal the finest heifers. In the evening when the herdsman returned, his enraged master ascribed all the loss to his negligence, and drove him from his house. Immediately the devil appeared in the dress of a herdsman, an agreement was made, and the next day he drove the cows to field. One, two days passed, and the Yakout saw nothing of his herd. In his distress he went with his wife, searched every where for his cows, and at last found thembut in what disorder! Upon his approach they began to skip and dance to the sound of the flute81 of the perfidious herdsman. The master stormed and raved. Hold there, said the devil to him. It well becomes thee indeed, who hast abused the confidence of the most respectable of chamans, to accuse me of stealing thy herd. May this serve thee as a lesson, and teach thee to give to every man that which belongs to him. Upon this the herd and the herdsman disappeared, and the poor Yakout lost all his property. The place where this scene passed, has since that time been considered as the abode of infernal spirits. The incredulous scruple not to assert that the devil who stole the cows, was no other than the chaman himself; but such is the simplicity of the honest Yakouts, that they feel a repugnance at this suspicion, and treat it as horrible blasphemy. Remains of old tombs of the Yakouts were frequently pointed out to me in the woods. They were coffins clumsily made, and suspended on the branches of trees. I know not from what motive they have renounced this custom of exposing their dead in the open air, and at a distance from their habitations; but at present their mode of interment is similar to that of Christians. The funerals are attended with a kind of pomp more or less magnificent, in proportion to the rank and wealth of the defunct. If a prince, he is arrayed in his finest habits, and most splendid arms. The body, placed in a coffin, is carried by the family to the tomb; deep groans announce the solemn procession. His favourite horse, and another the best of his stud, both richly caparisoned, and led by a valet, or near relation, walk by the side of the corpse. When arrived at the burying place, they are tied to two stakes82 fixed near the grave, and while the master is interred, their throats are cut over the corpse. This bloody libation is the homage paid to his attachment to these animals, who are supposed to follow him into the other world, where it is imagined that he will again be able to enjoy them. They are then flayed; the head and hide, in one entire piece, are fixed horizontally upon the branches of trees at a small distance from the grave; and such is the memorial that is erected. A fire is then kindled, and the last proof of friendship for the deceased consists in roasting and eating upon the spot these favoured animals. The feast being concluded the company disperses. The same ceremonial is observed for a woman, except that instead of a horse, they sacrifice her favourite cow. The Yakouts are robust, and in general large. They resemble the Tartars in the cast of their features, and there is said also to be a great similarity in the idioms of these two people; I can only affirm that the Yakouts are very abrupt in their manner of speaking, and do not connect their words. Their dress is simple, and nearly the same all the year round, the only difference is, that in winter it is made of skins. Over their chemise they commonly wear a large striped waistcoat with sleeves. Their breeches do not extend below the middle of the thigh, but their long boots, called sarri, reach above the knee. In hot weather they wear nothing but the breeches. They pretend to ride better than any other nation in the world, and their vanity in this respect is carried so far, that they avoid, from a sentiment of disdain, giving to travellers their most mettlesome steeds83. Polygamy forms a part of the political code of these people. Obliged to make frequent journies, a Yakout has a wife in every place where he stops, but he never assembles them together. Notwithstanding this licence, they are jealous to excess, and the sworn enemies of whoever shall dare to violate the rights of hospitality. Thanks to the cares of prince Girkoff, I found when I awoke nine excellent horses ready saddled84. He wished me to ride his favourite horse, because it ambled with perfect ease. Overwhelmed with his civilities, I left him the 27 at an early hour, with the consoling hope of more frequently meeting with habitations, where I might sometimes rest myself, and get a fresh supply of steeds. A few paces from the preceding habitation, which is called Amguinskoistanovie, or Amgui halt, I saw in the road wooden images of a bird about the size of a duck, or a cormorant; they are emblematical representations of a malicious divinity, the terror of the whole canton. The most absurd stories are told upon this subject; it is said, for example, that this diabolical spirit has frequently led travellers out of their road, and devoured their horses. I alighted in the evening at the house of another Yakout prince85, who had just settled himself in his summer habitation, which seemed to be equally neat and pleasant. I shall here insert a description of their ourassis, for such is the name by which these picturesque dwellings are called. Like the yourts of the wandering Koriacs, they are circular, spacious, and constructed with poles, fewer in number, but ranged in the same manner, and kept asunder by a sort of hoops at the top; the whole covered in with the bark of the birch tree86, formed into pieces eighteen inches wide, placed in a downward direction. These pieces are edged with a kind of ribband equally made of this bark, and shaped into festoons, and the inside of the yourt is ornamented in the same manner. The taste of these ornaments is governed by the caprice of the proprietor, and there is in them a sort of wildness that is sufficiently amusing. The same decoration is annexed to the chairs and beds of the heads of families. The domestics lie upon the ground on mats or skins, and the fire is lighted in the middle of the house. The 28, I came to the river Sola, and rode for a considerable time along its banks. The heat incommoded me as much as the flies, and I was so thirsty that I stopped at every yourt to drink koumouiss. The next morning I reached a place called Yarmangui, which is two hundred wersts from Amgui, and on the border of the Lena. By crossing this river I should be at Yakoutsk; but by a regulation of the governor, every traveller was obliged to wait here till he had permission to enter the town. Disagreeable as was this kind of quarantine, I had reconciled myself to it, when a subaltern officer requested me to go two hundred yards farther, where I should find the inspector general, and a lieutenant belonging to Mr. Billings. They were informed of my arrival, and received me with the most flattering demonstrations of esteem and joy. I had no sooner explained to them how much the delay with which I was threatened would counteract my views, than they gave instant orders for my being conducted to the other side of the river, adding, that they were sure of the approbation of the governor, to whom I had long since been announced and recommended. At noon I entered the boat provided for me, and was four hours in crossing the Lena in a diagonal direction. As far as I could judge by my eye, this river cannot be less than two leagues wide. When landed, I was interrogated by an officer of the police, who, as was customary, led me to the apartment which he thought proper to fix upon for my residence. I requested him to direct me to the house of M. Marklofski, the governor, whom I immediately visited. He received me with the utmost politeness, conversing entirely in French, which seemed very familiar to him. After complimenting me upon the rapidity of my journey87, and my fortunate arrival, he invited me to stay a few days at Yakoutsk, to recover myself from my fatigue. But of all his obliging offers, nothing flattered me more than his engaging me to sup the same evening with M. Billings. I had a strong desire to be acquainted with him, and I waited with impatience till the hour arrived. Our common profession of travellers, gave us a degree of familiarity the moment we met, and we might have been taken for old acquaintance; in the mean time we were both perfectly reserved upon the subject of our respective missions, carefully avoiding in conversation every thing that might lead to it. I admired the delicacy and prudence of M. Billings in this respect: during my stay I dined once at his house, and we met every morning and evening at the governors88; but during our intercourse not a single indiscreet question escaped him. He very much regretted the not having met in his cruize the frigates of our expedition. He would have considered it as a happiness and honour to have executed the generous intentions of his mistress, by furnishing the count de la Perouse with every assistance in his power. It is a debt that he owed, but had no other way of discharging, he said, except towards me. There was in reality no sort of kindness that he did not shew me. Riding having extremely fatigued me, I was advised to sail up the Lena as far as Irkoutsk. This was the more agreeable to me, as it would give me time to recover, and as the delay it would occasion could not be more than four or five days. As soon as I had resolved upon it, M. Billings assisted me in procuring a boat, ordered two sails to be made of my tent, gave me one of his trusty soldiers for a pilot, and in short furnished me with every thing that might be useful in my passage. The five days that I stayed at Yakoutsk were spent in preparations for my departure. I had leisure however to remark that this was the most pleasant and populous town I had yet seen in the whole extent of country through which I had passed. It is built on the western side of the Lena; the houses are of wood, but large and commodious; that of the governor faces the port. The majority of the churches are of stone. The port, which is dry at low water, is formed by an arm of the river89, that, in describing an angle, flows under the walls of the town. The vessels that trade here are merely barks; the greater part of them are used for transporting the provisions sent by government, such as salt and flour. The merchants hire or purchase these boats, for the conveyance of their commodities, from the neighbourhood of the source of the Lena, where they are built. The Yakouts come not to the town but when business obliges them; it is almost wholly inhabited by Russians. The effects of civilization are perceptible in their manners and customs; the social spirit, and the gaiety that is diffused among them, concur, with the interests of commerce, to keep up among the inhabitants that active intercourse which is the source of wealth, and augments the pleasures of life90. Having supplied myself with a fresh stock of provisions, I left Yakoutsk 5 July at one oclock in the morning. In the northern latitudes, it is known, that for more than a week the interval between day and night is scarcely perceptible. Already therefore the twilight announced the approach of the sun, and we could perfectly distinguish the sand banks that line this river as far as the first stage. Not being able always to avoid them, my guides, or rather the men who drew my boat, besought us every instant to place ourselves in the water like them, to assist in hauling it over the shoals. Frequently also, notwithstanding the enormous width of the river, we resolved to row a cross, with the hope of finding a more easy passage; but in this attempt the violence of the current drifted us half a werst, more or less, back again. Large pieces of ice were still visible on the bank, and would continue so, I was informed, all the year. I shall not give a regular account of every days navigation. The observations it furnished are too little interesting not to spare the reader the tiresome uniformity of such details. The stages are estimated by stations, and are frequently thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, and even eighty wersts91. The reader may judge from this of the labour of those unfortunate beings who are condemned to this service, that is, to haul the boats from one station to another. For the space of twelve hundred wersts, this terrible employment is the punishment inflicted on convicts and malefactors. They share this labour with horses; but when the boat runs aground, the beast is supplied by a man, and then he has the most difficult passes to surmount. The only relief afforded to these culprits is a small quantity of flour allowed by government. The Yakout princes in the neighbourhood are obliged also to contribute to their support, and in case of need, to assist them with men and horses. Many of these miserable beings are married; they retire with their families in isbas that are half in ruins, and scattered here and there along the right bank of the river. I was one day obliged by the rain to seek a shelter in one of these habitations; I chose the most promising, but in entering it I was nearly overcome by the noxious air, and words are too weak to describe the shocking picture of misery that struck my eyes. So far from finding a shelter in this house, I was in the course of a quarter of an hour almost deluged; the rain poured down like a torrent from every opening in the roof, and I preferred the braving it in my boat. Fishing and hunting fill up the leisure hours of these outlaws; their vicious propensities are still the same, and they are influenced by no other motive than interest or fear. Upon the approach of a boat, they always attempt by flight to escape from the painful service imposed on them by government. They played me this trick more than once. When I arrived at a station, of five or six men who ought to be constantly ready to receive the commands of travellers, one only appeared; the rest had hid themselves in the woods, and my preceding guides were obliged to conduct me to the next station92. I recompensed these unfortunate creatures the more readily, as upon dismissing them I frequently saw their feet covered with blood. They overreached me one morning in a singular manner. A post boat going down the river, passed near ours; it was Golikoffs turn to watch. The cunning rascals asked his leave to change with their comrades, and they knew so well how to persuade him it was for our advantage, that he consented. Eager to inform me of our good fortune, he awaked me, but it was merely to make me a witness with what speed our villains sailed away, instead of joining the boat that drifted by us. The confusion of Golikoff at the sight may well be conceived; he knew not what excuse to make me, as we were obliged to draw the boat ourselves to the next station; fortunately however it was at no great distance. The men who had conducted the post boat were still there, and my two soldiers quickly engaged them in our service. Their ready compliance was I believe chiefly owing to the brutal tone of Golikoff; our adventure had put him so much out of humour, that he could no longer be prevailed upon to use moderation. You do not know, said he to me, how to treat these rascals. If I were to imitate your example, we should be insulted at every poll, or be reduced to difficulties similar to what we have just experienced. Meanwhile we arrived 14 July at Olekma93 without meeting with any other inconvenience. This town, the first I had seen since my departure from Yakoutsk, is seven or eight hundred wersts from it, though in the post expences it is only estimated at six hundred. It is situated at the mouth of a river of the same name, and is small, badly built, and offers nothing worth notice. I stayed there but two hours. A few wersts on a small canoe came up to us, with only one man in it. He offered some bark of the birch tree, which he had stripped in the neighbouring woods; my soldiers were eager to purchase it in order to cover our boat. My trader was a Toungouse, and belonged to a family that was settled on the left bank94. I did not lose so good an opportunity of being better acquainted with these people; I ordered therefore my boat to be fastened on the right bank, and accompanied only by Golikoff, I entered the canoe of the Toungouse, who was as highly pleased as myself with the visit I was going to make to his relations. I was struck with the form and lightness of their canoes, the bottoms of which are however so nearly circular as to present but little surface to the water, and consequently they are easily overset. They consist of laths disposed in network, and covered with the bark of the birch tree sewn together and fortified with tar. The ends are narrow and pointed, and the oar is kept in equipoise in the middle of the vessel, so as to enable the rower to strike alternately with either end. The Toungouses expressed the utmost joy at seeing me: surrounded, welcomed, caressed, I was at a loss how to answer their professions of friendship. A young deer was killed and laid at my feet; in making me this present, these good people regretted that their poverty deprived them of the ability and pleasure of being more useful to me. I was not able myself to be very bountiful in my presents, and I only showed my gratitude by leaving them some of my cloaths. They are unsettled, like the wandering Koriacs, and live nearly in the same manner. Their yourts are not so large, and are covered with the bark of the birch tree; there is no other difference. Every family has a distinct yourt; the chief ornamental piece of furniture is a small wooden idol of the human shape, but with an enormous head; it is dressed in their cloaths, and decorated with rings, bells, and other pieces of metal. They give to this image the name of Saint Nicholas, in allusion to the patron saint of Russia. I have already described the dress of the Toungouses, and have therefore only to speak of their features, manners, and mode of travelling. They are not so large as the Yakouts, and have the sunk eyes, flat nose, and broad face of the Kamtschadales. They are equally hospitable; their characteristic qualities seem to be frankness and goodnature. In religion, they have the stupid credulity of the Koriacs, believing in all the absurdities of idolatry. The chamans equally obtain their homage and confidence: these impostors govern every where by means of the fears they inspire. After fishing95 and hunting, which in the season, oblige these families to be a little more settled, nothing engages their attention so much as their rein deer. These animals constitute all their wealth, and repay with usury the care bestowed upon them. They not only provide these people with food96 and clothing, but docile to the hand that guides them, they permit their masters, both men and women, to mount their backs, and ride them at a swift pace wherever they please97. Instead of harnessing them to a sledge, like the Tchouktchis and the Koriacs, they train them up to carry in this manner, and make them obedient to the motions of a bridle twisted about their horns. The saddle is ornamented, and of the same size as ours, but without stirrups; it is fastened by a very weak girt, and the rider, when he totters, has nothing to support him but a long stick with which he strikes his steed: it is manifest that this exercise requires great skill. The baggage is put into small panniers, covered with rein deerskin, and fixed to the saddle, which hang on each side against the flank of the animal. During the stay of the Toungouses in any place, the burdens are ranged methodically round their yourts. My navigation became less disagreeable when I had reached Pelodoui, a large village, the inhabitants of which are Russians, descended from the first cultivators of Siberia, called Starogili. There I was freed from the dangerous exiles, and had no other guides than honest peasants, who were equally assiduous and complaisant. The houses were not so distant from one another, and promised me at least some resource. In each of these villages there are six men appointed to conduct the business of the post: no privilege exempts them from this service; like all the Russian peasants they are annexed to the glebe, pay the same duties to the crown, and furnish recruits. The produce of their harvests are not adequate to their maintenance during the whole year; they are obliged to purchase and lay up a stock of corn. Rye is no where so dear as in this place; it sells at seventy or eighty kopecs the poud. Vitim is the village nearest to the preceding one. As it resembles all the Russian villages, I need not describe it; churches are less common than the cabacs or publichouses. Birds are fond of the environs and the borders of the Lena, where they very much abound. The clouds of gnats which cover it, account for this. To keep off these insects, we had taken care to furnish ourselves with a quantity of horsedung, with which we keep up a continual fire in our boat; but another unavoidable inconvenience on this river is the vermin it engenders; the more we bathe, the faster they multiply. Four hundred wersts from Peledoui I passed by a small town called Kirinsk, or Kiringui, at the bottom of which the Lena flows, and farther on the Kiringa. In the midst of the houses, none of which make any figure, we could distinguish the church, which is built of stone. The bank becoming wider and more sandy, we were frequently drawn by horses98. The ropes were weak, but it gave me no uneasiness; the pleasure of advancing inspired me with a blind confidence, for which I was soon punished. In the night of the 29, my boat touched upon a rock, which the darkness concealed from us. The rope broke with the violence of the shock, and our boat was in a minute full of water; we had only time to get out, in order to draw it upon the shore, which required all our efforts. I immediately mounted one of the horses, with my box before me. We were but four wersts from a village, and it was easy to have speedy succour. My boat was refitted in the course of the day, and the next morning I proceeded on my route. In quitting the village of Ustiug, I perceived a considerable salt pit that was pointed out to me, and beyond it three zavodes or copper founderies. My boat was broken a second time, and again hastily repaired; this day also, which was 4 August, my rudder, which continually struck against the bottom, was carried away, as well as a kind of keel that was fastened under the boat, and I abandoned it without hesitation. It became the perquisite of my faithful Golikoff. I took horses at Toutoura, which is three hundred and seventy wersts from Irkoutsk, and having passed through the large village of Verkhalensk, I arrived the 5, at two oclock in the afternoon, at that of Katschouga, where it is common to land in order to avoid the elbow of the Lena, and also because this river soon ceases to be navigable. In this village travellers are provided with kibitks99, or Russian four wheel carriages, which are conducted by exiles, and from time to time by the Bratskis. Between Katschonga and Irkoutsk is a step or uncultivated district, inhabited solely by these Bratskis, a colony of shepherds, supposed to be descended from the Tartars, so strongly do they resemble that people. There is something ferocious and savage in their appearance; they are extremely addicted to robberies, and I saw one of them apprehended for stealing some cattle. Their flocks are numerous and consist of oxen, cows, horses, but chiefly sheep. The speed with which I travelled, prevented me from visiting their habitations, or making more minute observations respecting them. We passed over a number of mountains, through very horrible roads, and which made my poor Golikoff frequently cry out, bruised by the continual jolting of our infernal vehicle; it was the first time he had experienced this mode of travelling. At length, having left the monastery of Voznessensko at our right, whence Irkoutsk begins to be visible, we came to a small arm of the river that winds along under the walls of the town, and which we crossed without coming out of the carriage. There I was stopped by a centinel, who was desirous, agreeably to his office, of informing the governor; but satisfied with my name and office, which I gave him in writing, he permitted me to go before him. It was about eleven oclock in the evening of 6 August, when I entered this capital, having travelled, since I left Yakoutsk, fifteen hundred and ninetyfour wersts. I alighted at the office of police, to enquire for a lodging. The kvartermester, or superintendant of that department, led me to a house, the master of which, far from obeying the orders injoined on him to receive me, deigned not to rise from his seat to declare his refusal. I saw the moment when the officer of the police, irritated at so uncivil a behaviour, was on the point of avenging his insulted authority. I succeeded however in pacifying him, and besought him to chuse me another lodging. In the interval the gorodnitsch, or commandant of the place, major Dolgopoloff, had heard of my arrival, and the trifling mortification I had experienced; he came immediately to the place, which I had scarcely taken possession of, made a thousand apologies for my having been so indecently treated and so badly accommodated, and in spite of all I could say in favour of my apartment, he obliged me to quit it, and to go with him. I lost not by the change: nothing could be more neat and elegant than the apartments to which he conducted me. It was a suite of rooms perfectly furnished and ornamented with paintings in fresco; but what pleased me most was the zealous attention that was bestowed upon me, and by which all my wishes were anticipated. The next day M. Dolgopoloff presented me to the governor, major general Arsnieff, and I gave him the dispatches of M. Kasloff, as the governor general was then at Petersburg. I was highly flattered by the manner in which M. Arsnieff received me. After loading me with civilities, he insisted that I should have no table but his, and introduced me to his family100, whose harmony, good sense, and cheerfulness, render his house a truly delightful habitation, and communicate their own character to the society whom their merits attract. I profited of the disposition and obliging offers of the governor, to recommend to him with warmth my soldier Golikoff. The innumerable services which this brave fellow had rendered me, his fidelity, his devotedness and zeal, which had stood every proof, pleaded more strongly in his favour than my recommendation, and M. Arsnieff was desirous of securing to himself so good a subject; but the ambition of poor Golikoff101 wished for nothing farther than the being incorporated in the garrison of Yakoutsk, where he was attracted by affection to his father, who lived in that town, and attachment to M. Kasloff, under whose orders he considered it as a happiness to serve. Such sentiments increased the interest which my account of him had inspired, and my protg instantly obtained the favour I solicited for him. I afterwards made a visit to M. Poskatschinn, the intimate friend of M. Kasloff, whose recommendation procured me every species of civility. I found at his house a catholic priest, sent into Siberia to assist the Christians of the church of Rome, by his ministry. His usual residence is at Irkoutsk. This town, the capital of the government of Irkoutsk and Kolivania, is situated on the border of the Angara, and near the mouth of the Irkout, from which it takes its name. Within its vast circumference many stone edifices are seen, and churches built with bricks; the wooden houses are large and commodiously distributed; its population is numerous, and its society brilliant; the multitude of officers and magistrates who reside there, have introduced the modes and customs of Petersburg. Every person in office has an equipage; rank and quality regulate the number of horses that draw their carriages, which are similar to ours. I have already observed, that all the tribunals of the neighbouring provinces are under the jurisdiction of those of this town; it is also the see of an archbishop, a venerable prelate, who exercises the functions of that office through the whole extent of this part of the Russian empire. But it is to commerce that this capital is chiefly indebted for its splendour. By its situation, it is the entrept of that which is carried on between Russia and China. It is known that an intercourse is kept up by land; sometimes active, sometimes languishing; frequently interrupted, it has undergone so many variations, that it is necessary, in my opinion, to go back to the origin of this connection to judge of its consistence, and the improvements of which it is capable. The first accounts are dated in the middle of the last century, about the time of the invasion of the Mantchew Tartars, who, having for a long time ravaged the northern provinces of the Chinese empire, at last subjugated it entirely. It was to a governor of Tobolsk, that Russia was indebted for the first idea of effecting this commerce, in consequence of an attempt made at Pekin by persons of confidence whom he sent thither. Far from being discouraged by the trifling success of these emissaries, Russian and Siberian merchants united together to profit, if it were possible, by their discoveries. They sent out a caravan in the year 1670, which brought back new lights upon the subject, and unequivocal proofs of the possibility of succeeding. From that time companies multiplied, the journeys became more frequent, and establishments increased. This progress alarmed the Chinese, who resolved to set bounds to it. Forts were erected to restrain a neighbour, who, advancing nearer every day, by the river Amour, the Eastern Sea, and the Selinga, insensibly approached the frontiers of China. These defensive measures were the source of very warm disputes between the two empires upon the subject of their respective boundaries; a few hostilities took place, and at last an open rupture. Many years were spent in besieging places, in demolishing and erecting them in turns, till the year 1689, when the two courts, by the mediation of father Gerbillon and father Pereira, Jesuits, authorised by the emperor of China, signed, at Nertschinsk, a treaty of peace and perpetual alliance102, which was to be engraven on two stones or posts erected on the confines of each empire. By this reciprocity, there was a free commerce secured to all the subjects of the two powers, who were furnished with passports by their courts. Meanwhile China had taken care to be paid for her condescension by the surrenders she demanded of Russia, who lost not only an important part of its possessions, but the navigation of the river Amour as far as the Eastern Sea. To make amends, or with a view of deriving greater advantages from this commerce, Tzar103 Peter the Great commissioned, in 1692, Isbrand Ives, a Dutchman, in his service, to ask of the court of Pekin, the same privilege for caravans, which the late treaty granted to individuals. The result of the embassy corresponded with the desires of the court of Petersburg; the caravans were admitted; and as the court reserved to itself the exclusive right of sending them, it received the whole of the profit104. These journeys lasted three years; caravanseries, for the exchange of their commodities, were appointed for the Russian merchants who composed the caravans, and during their stay at Pekin their expences were discharged by the emperor. This calm did not long continue between the two powers. New troubles, occasioned by the misconduct, drunkenness, and insolent proceedings of some Russians, in the midst even of the Chinese capital, had nearly annihilated their commerce. The embassy of Ismaloff saved it. By the skill of this negociator, captain of the guards to the Tzar, the disorders were stopped, and the complaints suppressed; security and confidence succeeded to this misunderstanding. To preserve this happy disposition, Laurent Lange remained at Pekin, under the denomination of agent to the Russian caravans. Upon, the departure of this resident, affairs continually declined and the enormities of the Russians increased. They excited the pride and distrust, natural to the Chinese. The refusal to deliver up a number of hordes of Mongouls, who were become tributary to the Tzar, completed the indignation of the emperor; every Russian was banished from his territories, and there was no longer any communication between the two nations. In 1727, count Ragouzinskoi, ambassador from Russia to the successor of the vindictive Kamhi, effected the renewal of these commercial ties by a new treaty, that fixed irrevocably the bounds of each empire105, and subjected the merchants to an invariable regulation, calculated for ever to remove all source of division. The court of Russia was permitted to send a caravan to Pekin once in three years, and the number of merchants was limited to two hundred. On their arrival at the frontiers of China, they were to inform the emperor, that a Chinese officer might be sent to escort them to the metropolis, where their expences would be defrayed during the time of their traffic. It was agreed also that the merchandize belonging to individuals should not pass the frontier, and that they should no longer enjoy the privilege of trading in any of the Chinese or Mongoul territories. Of consequence, two places were assigned them on the confines of Siberia, the one called Kiakhta, from a stream that waters the environs, the other Zurukhaire106, situated on the left bank of the Argoun, and they were obliged to deposit their merchandize in the magazines of these two settlements. In spite of the solemn ratification of all the clauses of this compact, its execution encountered various impediments; the leaven of resentment fermented, or dishonesty gave birth to fresh knaveries. Be this as it may, in the space of twenty seven years, only six caravans sat out from Russia; and after the last envoy this commerce fell into a state of languor consequent upon the loss of credit. I suppress the detail of grievances alledged by the Chinese against the Russians. Many well known historians have given an account of the complaints that occasioned the successive emigrations of the Kalmouk Tartars, and a multitude of Toungouses, who were all received by the court of Petersburg; we have seen its subtle policy, moderate and threatening in turns, always evading the satisfaction demanded by China. These disputes continued till the accession of the reigning empress. No sooner had Catherine II. ascended the throne, than she renounced, in favour of her subjects, the monopoly of furs, and the exclusive right of sending caravans to Pekin. This act of justice and beneficence, worthy the genius and heart of this empress, was still insufficient to give to this commerce its antient vigour. The enmity between the two nations was farther heightened by the fickleness of these Toungouses, who, tired or discontented with their new establishment, suddenly eloped from the dominion of Russia, and returned to their country to replace themselves under the Chinese authority. It has since been seen that the two nations, discarding all animosity, entered into a sincere connection, and that the intercourse between the merchants became every day more active and interesting. As the Russian factories multiplied at Kiakhta, which is peopled, enlarged, and fortified, the Chinese resorted to the settlement of Zurukhaire or Namatschinn; the commissaries on each side presided in the exchange of commodities, and the Mongoul language was adopted in the contracts which were made by interpreters. The Russians have not the advantage in this commerce. The Chinese, who trade in a body, are infinitely more watchful over their interests and circumspect in their dealings; they know how to discover the real value of the Russian commodities, and they have the skill to sell their own at the price they first fix, and from which they never depart. Tea, for instance, procures them an immense profit107; they sell it so dear that the purchasers are afterwards obliged to get rid of it with loss. To indemnify themselves the Russians endeavour to raise the price of their skins, of which the Chinese are extremely fond; but the cunning of these people puts them on their guard against this trick. It would be too tedious to enumerate in this place all the articles that enter into these exchanges. I refer the curious reader to Coxe or Pallas, who are both diffuse on the subject. By a calculation which they made of exports and imports at Kiakhta, in the year 1777, the amount of this commerce was estimated at four millions of roubles; but since that time, various accounts deserving of credit assert that it has considerably lessened, and at present it may be said to be reduced to nothing108. I had no preparation to make for my departure, but that of purchasing a kibitk109. I no longer troubled myself about provisions, as I was sure of finding wherewith to subsist myself at every stage. The governor gave me a poradojenei, or a passport, as far as Petersburg. It was resolved that I should be escorted by a soldier of the garrison, whose courage and fidelity were known, and that one of the couriers of the governor general, who had particularly recommended him, should accompany me to assist me by his services and experience. I took leave of M. Arsnieff; his son and M. Dolgopoloff insisted upon conducting me to the first stage, in spite of all my remonstrances. We were seated in the carriage, where my honest Golikoff came with tears in his eyes, conjuring me to permit him to accompany me as far as these gentlemen; it was, he said, the sweetest recompence I could bestow on him. This last instance of attachment affected me, and I felt that in complying with his request, my pleasure was not less than his. Having crossed in a ferry boat the river Angava110, we soon arrived to the place of our separation. While I repeated my thanks, and took leave of my two friends, Golikoff, concealed behind my carriage, endeavoured to hide his tears, and recommended me to the care of the soldier who succeeded him. His despair burst forth when my horses were harnessed; he embraced my knees, and exclaimed that he would never quit me. It was to no purpose I repeated that, as he well knew, I had no right to take him; my reasonings, my caresses, nothing could prevail on him to leave his hold; it was necessary to force him from my feet, then from the carriage, which he seized on being torn from me. Never, I believe, had my sensibility experienced a more violent shock; I departed with a wounded heart. The regret of not having been able to follow the dictates of my gratitude111 still torments me, and I can only hope that he may be informed of it, for I cannot flatter myself that I shall ever see him again. I am obliged at present to discontinue my practice of making notes every day. My journey to Petersburg was so rapid, that is, from 10 August to 22 September, that it was impossible to observe the same accuracy; for this reason also the reader will pardon the brevity of my observations. The country through which I passed has beside been described by so many accurate and intelligent pens, and these travellers have given so much attraction and interest to their recitals, that I should only be accused of presumption, or plagiarism, if I attempted to enlarge on a subject, which they profoundly studied, while I had scarcely time to skim the surface. Many of these performances112 are recent, and the curiosity of the reader may be amply satisfied by them. I shall only speak of what relates to myself. I first passed through a small canton inhabited by Bratskis. Are not these the same people described by other French writers, under the appellation of Burates? Beyond Oudinsk I came to Kransnoyark, where I stopped twentyfour hours to repair the axletrees of my carriage. This town derives its name from the red and steep bank of the Yenisei, which runs under its wall. I afterwards entered the desert, called Barabinskoistep. The post service is performed by exiles of every description, whose settlements are at the distance of twentyfive, and sometimes fifty wersts from one another. These unfortunate beings live in the same manner as those who conducted me from Yakoutsk to Peledoui; they are neither more serviceable nor less ferocious, and their indolence is still more mortifying. Accustomed to the fertile and rich country about Irkoutsk, cultivated by the laborious Starogili, the eye cannot survey, without pain, this barren waste. We are disposed to ascribe this melancholy contrast to the sloth of the perverse inhabitants, though it is acknowledged that the soil yields them no return. One might say, that in conformity with the vindictive hand that pursues them, Nature acts towards them as a stepmother; the earth, to which justice has banished them, seems to feel a reluctance in bearing them; its withered bosom refuses all success to their culture. My courier, who had the rank of serjeant, did not treat these miserable creatures with more attention than was expedient. To enforce obedience, he frequently made use of his stick, and my remonstrances could not restrain him from these sallies, which he called, in pleasantry, his reigning sin. One day he had near paid for his cruelty in a terrible manner. Arriving at a stage we found no horses; the man upon whom the business this day devolved, had been guilty of the daring crime to absent himself, in order to get hay. Two hours passed away, and no one appeared; my courier at length resolved to go himself, with my soldier, and seize the first horses they could find. In about half an hour they returned, in a very angry humour, with a single horse, for which they had been obliged to fight. While they were relating the transaction, the man whom they accused of being the aggressor, ran to complain to me of their having plucked off half his beard. At the same moment I was surrounded by more than fifty persons, assembled from I know not where, for as we entered the village, we could perceive no one but the starost. They seemed to contend who should reproach him most; I spoke a long time without being heard. My courier, instead of assisting me in pacifying them, ran to the postillion, who returned from the fields, and made his arm pay dearly for the delay he had occasioned us. The man, whose beard had been torn off, prepared to avenge his comrade, but the soldier, by order of the courier, prevented him, and I was obliged to deliver him from his hands. By dint of vociferation and entreaties I at last suspended the fury of the combatants. I had great reason to applaud myself for my moderation; the spectators were enraged at the treatment their neighbour received; they would infallibly have murdered us, if I had not immediately ordered my two indiscreet attendants to return to the carriage, and the postillion to make haste and harness the horses. The crowd was desirous of pursuing them, but at last I succeeded in appeasing it, and they escaped with a few invectives. I hastened to my kibitk, and did not think myself safe till I was out of their reach. I trembled lest this event should circulate; in the mean time, till my arrival at Tomsk, a town at the end of this desert, I saw not the least appearance of commotion. My people were eager to carry their complaints before the inspector general, and to my great mortification they appealed to me as a witness. This officer explained to me the dangerous influence the affair would produce upon the maintenance of order and subordination, if these exiles of Baraba were not severely punished; he accordingly prepared to set out for the spot, to make an example of them. My visit to the governor of Tomsk soon consoled me for this disagreeable adventure. I found him to be a Frenchman, of the name of Villeneuve: his rank was that of colonel; I was received by him as a countryman, and I need say no more to express our mutual joy at meeting. I conceived myself to be already in France. The town of Tomsk is tolerably neat; it is partly upon an eminence, where the house of the governor predominates, and the other part descends to the river Tom. I only staid while my wheels were repairing. I met many companies of exiles, or galley slaves113, and I was advised to be on my guard against them. As individuals frequently escape, the peasants are obliged to pursue them as much from duty as for their own safety. Nothing is in reality more easy than for these exiles to make their escape on the road; they are well guarded, it is true, but they are never fettered. I have seen in woods as many as eighty destined to the same place; they were divided into companies of four, five, or six men and women, who followed at the distance sometimes of two or three wersts. They are afterwards distributed in the different mines of Siberia: these were going to Nertschinsk. I crossed the principal rivers of this province, as the Oka, the Yenisei, the Tom, the Obi, which the Russians call the Ob. On the last I ran a considerable risk in a small ferry, which was in so wretched a condition, that in the middle of the river it filled with water. We should have found some difficulty in saving ourselves, but for a smaller boat, that I had had the precaution to fasten to the ferry, and others that were quickly brought to our succour by the inhabitants on the opposite side. Before I arrived at Tobolsk, I passed the Irtisch twice, the last time near the mouth of the Tobol. This capital, situated between these two rivers, would have been one of the most beautiful towns of Siberia, but a fire has made such havock as to reduce the greater part of it to ashes. Prior to this event, it was in two divisions, the upper town and the lower town; the one, built upon the platform of a mountain, presented many beautiful edifices of stone; the other was made up of wooden houses, which were the first devoured by the flames. By degrees the fire reached the upper part of the town and the stone houses, where it left nothing but the walls. I made no stay at this melancholy scene; the impression it made upon me was equally deep and forcible, and I shall never forget the air of consternation that was visible in the inhabitants, who, from the highest to the lowest, laboured indefatigably, but in mournful silence, to repair their losses. Already the ravages begin to disappear, and the foundations of some houses and shops, all rebuilding of stone, arise above the surface: it is probable that the rest of the town will have the same solidity. In quitting it I passed the Irtisch a third time to reach Catherinebourg, or Yekaterinbourg, where I stayed twentyfour hours, that my carriage might again be repaired. I employed the time in visiting a gold mine in the neighbourhood, and the place where the copper money is coined. I refer the reader to the authors I have already cited, for a description of the colonies of Tcheremisses, Tschouvaschis, Votiaguis, and Tartars. I shall only say of these last, that the neatness of the inside of their houses astonished me, doubtless because I had been a little too much accustomed to the contrary defect among the Kamtschadales, Koriacs, c. These Tartars lead sedentary lives; they are husbandmen, and have considerable quantities of corn and cattle: the religion they profess is the Mahometan. The head dress of the Tcheremisses struck me with its singularity; it is a small shell of wood, eight or ten inches long, and four or five broad, placed near the root of the hair upon the forehead, and the upper part with an inclination forward. This is fastened with a knot, and then covered with an handkerchief, white embroidered or figured, and, out of preference, they chuse the most glaring colours and the most crowded patterns. The handkerchief, which is very large, and hangs loosely behind, is edged with a broad fringe, or lace of gold or silver, in proportion to the wealth or luxury of the wearer. The rest of their dress cannot better be compared than to a robe de chambre. I met a caravan of Bohemians who asked me for money, and informed me that they were going to people and cultivate a small canton on the borders of the Wolga, near Saratoff. The necessity of having my passport examined by the governor of Casan, and the difficulty of procuring horses, as I arrived late, kept me in this town till break of day. The Wolga, which washes its walls, renders the situation pleasant; the houses are for the most part built of wood, and the churches of stone. I was told that it is the see of an archbishop. Beyond the Wolga114, a river famous for its navigation, and which pours itself into the Caspian sea, I passed before the towns of Rouzmodemiansk and Makarieff. The latter, celebrated for its linen manufactures, is, property speaking, but a village. I was at a small distance from it, and had just crossed a bridge, ill constructed, and that trembled under my carriage, when my impatience was near costing me my life. My postilion, animated by my repeated exhortations, drove me with great rapidity115: on a sudden I heard something strike hard against the box of my kibitk; I thrust out my head, and received a blow that made me instantly fall back in my carriage. A cry, uttered by the courier who rode with me, informed me that I was wounded. In reality a stream of blood ran down my forehead: the carriage stopped, I alighted; it was the circle of my wheel that was broken, the edge of which had struck me with the greater violence, in consequence of our speed. On putting my hand to the wound, it appeared large and deep: I conceived that the skull was injured, and I considered myself as a dead man. It is here I can say with truth, that language is too weak to describe the excess of my despair. After surmounting so many obstacles, so many perils; at the very gates of Petersburg, where I ardently longed to embrace, in my arms, the best of fathers, whom I had not seen for four years; on the eve of entering my native country, of acquitting myself of my embassy, by delivering my important dispatches, and to be struck by a mortal blow! The reflection overcame me; I felt my knees tremble and my head turn round; the succours of my companions fortunately brought me to life: I armed myself with courage, tied a bandage tight about my head, the wheel was adjusted in the best manner it could, and we soon gained the preceding stage to Nijeneinovogorod. I left my kibitk in this village to the care of my soldier, with orders to have it repaired, and to follow me immediately to the next town. While my post carriage was harnessing, and my box put into it, I entered a public house, and had some very strong brandy poured into my wound, and a good compress placed on it, which enabled me to proceed to Nijeneinovogorod, which was from twentyfive to thirty wersts. The surgeon major, at whose house I stopped, was not at home, and in order to wait for him, I was conducted into a most filthy habitation. The desire of not being known, and the uncertainty I was in respecting my wound, induced me not to announce myself to the governor. In the afternoon I returned to the surgeons, but to no purpose. Impatient of suffering, without knowing what might be the effect of my wound, I asked if there was no one else who could assist me, and they mentioned a podleker, or surgeons mate, who, after many difficulties on his part, came to me. His address gave me no favourable impression respecting his talents and sobriety; it had all the bluntness and tottering gait of a drunken man. In the mean time the necessity of having my wound probed, overcame the repugnance I felt of trusting myself to such hands; but the wretch had forgotten his instruments. Who would suppose that a pin was the probe he borrowed? Having examined it, he informed me, in a fluttering manner, that my skull was laid open, but not at all fractured, and that with the application of brandy and water I might continue my journey; he then advised me to be blooded. The idea of trusting my arm to such a drunkard made me shudder. Having thanked, paid, and dismissed him, I got into my carriage, happy to be rid both of the operation and the operator. Nijeneinovogorod is situated, as every one knows, upon the Wolga, and is similar to all the Russian towns. When I passed through it, it boasted of the honour of having a company of national comedians. Leaving Vladimer, I came to Moscow. M. de Boffe was anxious to have my wound examined by the most skillful surgeons. Their report gave me confidence, though the pains in my head were tolerably acute. I found myself the more consoled by the removal of my fears, as I learned at the same time a circumstance very much calculated to increase them. M. de Boffe told me that my father was not at Petersburg: if therefore I had been dangerously wounded, and this town had been the termination of my career, I should have been deprived of the consolation of ending my life in the arms of him to whom I owed it. My carriage being in a shattered condition, I left it at Moscow, and sat off in one of the common post carriages; but they were so small and so incommodious, as not even to shelter me from the rain. I passed by Tver, Vonischneivolotschok, Novogorod, and Sophia near Tsarskocelo116, and I entered Petersburg in the night of 22 September, having travelled six thousand wersts in forty days, eight of which were lost in the unavoidable delays I had experienced. Agreeably to the instruction of count de la Perouse, I delivered my packets into the hands of count de Segur, minister plenipotentiary from the court of France to the empress. I had the pleasure of seeing him on his arrival in Russia, and I count it among the happy events of my life that I now found him at Petersburg, to console me for the absence of my father. This minister not only received me in the most gracious manner, but interested himself in my health with every mark of affection. He offered one of his couriers to accompany and take care of me during the remainder of my journey. Meanwhile as the skill of his surgeon had effected my cure, I thanked the count for his obliging offer, but was unwilling to deprive him of a man who might be necessary to him. Charged with his dispatches, I left Petersburg the 26, between eleven and twelve at night. At Remer, as the weather was foul, I was eight hours in engaging watermen to take me across an arm of the sea called Courichhaff. I slept at Berlin, count dEsterno, minister plenipotentiary of the king to this court, being also desirous of sending dispatches by me; I was well requited for this trifling delay, by the flattering things which it occasioned me from this minister. At length I saw my native country, and 17 October at three oclock in the afternoon, I arrived at Versailles. I alighted at the house of count de la Luzerne, minister and secretary of state for the marine department. I had not the happiness of being known to him, but the very kind reception he gave me, instantly prepared my heart for the gratitude, which on so many accounts I owe him. To his favour, upon which I set the highest value, I am indebted for the honour of having been presented, the same day, to his majesty, who condescended to interrogate me respecting various circumstances of my expedition; expressed a desire to know the particulars; and recompensed me the next day by appointing me consul at Cronstadt; a recompence so much the dearer, as it reminded me of the eulogiums that had been bestowed on the zeal of all my family, in the civil and political offices with which they had been entrusted. THE END. FOOTNOTES 1 During my stay at Poustaretsk, the governor had dismissed our Kamtschadale guides. Some of them belonged to the environs of Bolcheretsk, and were four hundred leagues distant from their home. These poor creatures, almost all their dogs having died of fatigue and hunger, were obliged to return on foot. 2 All the wandering Koriacs avoided us in the same manner, that they might not be obliged to assist us. 3 These people are at the south of the Tchouktchis, upon the eastern coast. 4 This tent was made of linen; I had purchased it of M. Vorokoff before I left Poustaretsk. 5 This report had gained credit from the false representation of Bogonoff, the engineer. He asserted, that the Koriacs had, by force of arms, opposed his entrance into the river Pengina. When I mentioned it to them, they protested, that so far from opposing the passage of this engineer, they had treated him during his stay with great kindness and friendship. 6 This detachment had originally consisted of forty men; but at the requisition of Kabechoff, ten Cossacs were added to it, who arrived at Kaminoi with the supplies, which we have already mentioned. 7 These people, informed that I was on my way to Ingiga, would, I was told, probably come to meet me, were it merely from a spirit of curiosity. 8 See Vol. I. p. 225. 9 My escort thus consisted of four men; this Golikoff, the soldier who had accompanied me from Poustaretsk, and two others chosen from the detachment as my guides: I thought it necessary however to add a Koriac guide, as I conceived that he must be better acquainted with the road. 10 The scarcity of dogs at Kaminoi, and the wretched state of mine, had determined M. Schmaleff to let me have those belonging to the detachment. 11 The reader will recollect that I was then in a Kamtschadale dress. 12 The perfidy of the Koriacs has almost always endeavoured to inflame the enmity of the Tchoukchis against the Russians, either by false reports, or by inciting them to attack such parties of Russians whom they could not, or dared not, attack themselves. These artful manuvres have been the cause of the many acts of cruelty with which the Tchoukchis have been reproached, but which form no part of their character. 13 That is, beyond the cape of Tchoukchi, known in maps by the name of Tchoukotskoinos. 14 The fear of being surprised in the night by the Koriacs occasions this precaution. 15 Polygamy is allowed by these people; one may say indeed that they admit promiscuous cohabitation, for they are said to carry their politeness so far as to offer their wives or daughters to their guests. To refuse the offer would be an insult. I cannot answer for the truth of this report. 16 I had the greater reason to suspect him, as his mode of introducing himself, reminded me of the expedients he had employed the preceding year to detain a sailor, charged by government with important dispatches. The sailor, anxious to arrive at the place of his destination, was prepared to leave Parein, when Youltitka pressed him to wait till the next day. He showed no disposition to comply, but was desirous of proceeding immediately. The dispute became warm. The enraged Koriac fell upon him, and would instantly have assassinated him, if he had not been torn from his hands. He was bound, and kept in confinement for three days. At length, after having suffered every sort of ill treatment, Youltitka permitted him to go, with the hope perhaps of putting an end to him more easily in his way; but the prey escaped him. 17 It is difficult to conceive of a man more completely ugly. Large and squat, his whole face seamed with the small pox, and various other scars, a sullen countenance, black hair, that joined enormous eyebrows, under which there was only one eye, and that sunk in his head, haggard and fierce; the other he had lost by accident: such is the exact picture of this Koriac prince. 18 This tribunal is called in Russia nijeneizemskoisoud, or inferior territorial tribunal. The judges are selected in turn from the peasants in the ostrogs of each district. The exercise of their office is limited to three years. These judges are called zassdatels. 19 They use no kind of cloth or napkin for this purpose. They take a stick, scrape it for a few minutes, and with the shavings they rub and clean their dishes and other utensils used in their cooking. 20 So they call these tempests. 21 It is necessary to be incessantly on the watch for fear of a surprise on the part of the neighbouring Koriacs, whose daring and turbulent character leads them frequently to revolt, and to attack the town at a time when it is least expected. When they come to Ingiga for commercial purposes, they are not permitted to make any long stay. 22 Called in Russia kounits. 23 He was chiefly terrified by the fasts, which, with the Greeks, are very rigid and very frequent. 24 I have not the same complaint to make against the wandering Koriacs. I found them in general more frank and obliging, and shall presently give a proof of it. 25 The wandering Koriacs were for a long time still more untractable. The independence to which they were accustomed, and the natural restlessness of their character, little disposed them to submit to the yoke. The Russians, beside, from a love of conquest, were perhaps not remarkable for moderation, and endeavoured probably to make themselves feared rather than loved. It is certain that they experienced the regret of seeing whole hordes suddenly disperse upon the least appearance of oppression, and fly, as in concert, far from the settlements where they hoped, by the attraction of commerce, to fix them. These frequent flights took place till the arrival of major Gaguen. By the mildness of his government, his repeated invitations, and beneficial proposals, he has gradually brought back these fugitive families. First one returned, then two, then three; the force of example, and a kind of emulation operated upon others, and when I was at Ingiga there were no less than eleven yourts in the neighbourhood of that town. But the skilful policy of major Gaguen has still more successfully effected the views of the Czarina, by taking advantage of the necessary commercial intercourse, gradually to establish between the Russians and the Koriacs of both descriptions in the neighbourhood, a reciprocity of good offices, a kind of agreement between individual and individual, that reminds us of ancient hospitality, and that will one day infallibly operate a revolution in the manners of this people. If a Koriac be obliged by his business to pass the night in the town, he demands a lodging of his Russian friend, and without farther ceremony takes possession. His host considers it as his duty to receive him, to study his inclinations, to anticipate his wants, and his wishes; and in short, spares nothing in order to entertain him in the best manner he can, that is, to make him completely drunk. Upon his return home, he relates with pleasure the flattering reception he has met with. He considers it as an obligation, a sacred debt, of which he is anxious to acquit himself the first opportunity that offers. This is a pleasing custom, particularly to a Russian soldier, who is obliged to make frequent journeys to the neighbouring villages. The gratitude of the Koriac towards his friend, does not confine itself to the affording him a lodging, regaling him, and supplying him with provisions for his excursion; he protects him, and becomes his defence against his countrymen. 26 All the Koriacs whom I met with on my way from Poustaretsk are equally subject to famine with the inhabitants of that hamlet. The bark of the birch tree mixed with the fat of the sea wolf, is then their whole subsistence. 27 The rivers near this ostrog are so small as to be entirely frozen up as soon as the cold sets in, and during more than half the year the inhabitants are obliged to drink melted snow or ice. 28 It is used in the Russian houses to destroy insects. 29 The enamorata probably is not always obdurate, but equally impatient with her lover to put an end to this laborious novitiate, and acknowledges herself touched, before it has taken place. 30 It is also that of the Tchouktchis, and before the introduction of Christianity was the system of the Kamtschadales. 31 They believe also in inferior deities. Some they consider as household gods, the guardians of their rustic habitations. These idols, coarsely carved and blackened with smoke, are hung up in the most conspicuous part of their yourts. They are dressed in the Koriac mode, and adorned with bells, rings, and various other iron and copper trinkets. The other inferior deities they consider as inhabiting mountains, woods, and rivers, which reminds us of the nymphs in the mythology of the ancient Greeks. 32 I frequently perceived in the course of my journey the remains of dogs and rein deer suspended on stakes, and testifying the devotion of the sacrificers. 33 I dismissed my conductors of course. I have not yet mentioned the post charges. While I travelled with M. Kasloff, they were defrayed by him, and I did not pay my share, till I came to quit him. The reader is intitled to a note upon the subject, which I shall here give him. These charges are called in Russia progonn: a courier pays two kopecks per werst for every horse, and other travellers four kopecks. A kopeck is equal to a French sou, or an English halfpenny. In Kamtschatka and Siberia the expence is less by one half, and as dogs are almost invariably made use of in the peninsula, they are charged at so much per podvod, or team of five dogs. Three podvods, or fifteen dogs, are considered as equal to one horse in Siberia, for which a courier pays a kopeck per werst, and other travellers two kopecks. 34 These compliments do not, as with us, consist of mere ceremony and cold civilities, accompanied with unmeaning words. The assembly is no sooner seated, than brandy is introduced. A domestic distributes three enormous bumpers to every individual, one of which would be sufficient in any other country to make a man give in. Here it is merely a provokative to double and triple the dose. A Koriac toper considers it in no other light, and when it is presented to him, he gives a complacent smile to the whole company, and particularly to the master of the house, to whom also he makes a slight inclination of the head. He then swallows, one upon another, without the least sign of repugnance, three glasses filled as fast as possible. The children drink it with as little aversion. I have seen a child six or seven years old take off one of these glasses, without making a wry face. To this copious distribution of brandy M. Gaguen never fails to add some presents of iron, stuffs, or tobacco, and carries his attention so far as to consult the taste and wants of each individual. The Tchouktchis, and the fixed Koriacs, are treated with similar kindness. By this means he has gradually tamed these savage minds, and gained an influence and ascendency over them: a poor recompence for the sacrifices he is obliged to make to provide these liberalities, the expence of which falls solely upon himself, and from the dearness of every article in this country, must be a heavy burthen to him. 35 Sometimes the lower part of this rein is furnished with little sharp pieces of bone, which, with the smallest shock, serve to goad forward the animals that are untractable, and are continually employed for that purpose. In harnessing the rein deer, they are careful not to put on the right the beast that is trained to draw on the left, the sledge would otherwise, instead of advancing, be instantly overturned. This trick, however, the Koriacs frequently play upon the Russians, who they think have treated them ill. 36 They had indeed quitted the road, but had only dragged me about fifty paces from it. 37 This proceeding was the more agreeable to me, as being perfectly unexpected. It was the first present that any Koriac had offered me. I should not have observed this, if, as having just quitted the hospitable Kamtschadales who had loaded me with gifts, I had not been tempted to compare the characters of the two people. 38 In the presence of the Russians, he crosses himself before and after his meals, and when he enters his yourt. 39 Among a hundred of these skins scarcely two can be found fine enough for furs. There are some entirely white. 40 The yourt of my host was about eight yards in diameter, and nearly of the same height. The circumference at the base was twentyfour yards, and the top similar to that of a cone. 41 We caught some excellent trout. 42 The snow fell in such abundance, that these poor animals were in a manner buried under it. Accustomed however to such weather, they crowd together, and always holding their noses in the air, the heat of their breath, by penetrating their cold covering, creates a free passage for respiration. They have the sense also to shake themselves when the snow becomes too heavy. 43 Our company consisted of ten, seven of whom were Koriacs, whose filthiness is well known. 44 Though this circuit was more than seven hundred wersts, the rapidity of these rivers insured me a speedy navigation, by which I should have gained a considerable advantage in point of time, besides the pleasure of enjoying the first appearance of spring. 45 A vessel from Okotsk was wrecked in this place a few years ago. The whole cargo, consisting of provisions, was lost, and almost all the crew perished. 46 All the fixed Koriacs between Ingiga and Yamsk are baptised. These two settlements have but one priest, whose habitual residence is at Ingiga. He seldom makes the circuit of his district, which extends as far as the ostrog of Taousk, the first place belonging to the diocese of Okotsk. 47 The post expences are the same here as in Kamtschatka for common sledges, though the teams of the nartas consist of double the number of dogs. 48 This was a real loss to my conductors: there are dogs of a price as high as fifty roubles, and not one of them is sold for less than five. 49 The ice bent under my sledge at every step. 50 M. Kokh was born in Germany, and spoke the Russian language as fluently as his own; he wanted only confidence to express himself equally well in French. He had long retired to this settlement with his wife and three children, where he lives in peace, surrounded by his little family, rich in the public esteem, and happy in the opportunity which his situation affords him of doing good. 51 Accustomed to such accidents when they travel in this season of the year, they ascend the loftiest trees, where they fabricate with the branches a kind of hut called labazis; but it often happens that the torrents do not abate, and in this case they equally perish for want of food. 52 This was no very easy task, if we consider the extreme weakness of these poor animals, who have no other sustenance, during the whole winter, than the branches of willows, or birch trees. With such nourishment, what service was to be expected from them! To support so long a fast, they surely stand in need of the respite from labour which is commonly allowed them during this season of the year; and even at the commencement of spring, it is not prudent to make use of them till they have recovered their strength by better pasture. The fields are no sooner freed from the snow, than they disperse in eager pursuit of every little blade of grass, and devour the shoots almost before they spring out of the ground; rapid as the vegetation is in this country, it must be supposed that a considerable time is necessary to recover their vigour. 53 See Coxe, Chap. I. 54 I might here give an account of the origin, progress, and nature of the commercial alliance between these two empires; but as the caravans sent by the Russians to Kiatka, commonly assemble at Irkoutsk, I shall defer it till my arrival at that settlement, where I shall perhaps acquire still more accurate information. 55 I shall not enter into particulars respecting the manner in which these settlements were made. The Russians unfortunately displayed neither more integrity nor greater humanity than in their preceding conquests; and I wish it was in my power to draw a perpetual veil over the scenes of horror which they repeated on their arrival in these climates. But the many instances of injustice and dishonesty practiced by the chiefs, pilots, merchants, and sailors, have given rise to such a variety of complaints and suits, and so many authors have written upon the subject, that my silence could have no effect. It is well known that a number of ships employed in this trade have been accused of taking by force, instead of purchasing, the furs which they brought back, and sold at an immense profit. Not content with tearing from the unfortunate indigines these fruits of their courage and labour, they sometimes compelled them, under the immediate inspection, and for the sole profit of the crew, to hunt otters, beavers, sea cows, foxes, and other animals; and frequently from an excess of distrust or avarice, they hunted themselves. Such conduct induces us to believe that they were guilty of crimes still more shocking. It is not to be supposed that at so great a distance, the injunctions and menaces of the empress should in all cases so far operate as to prevent enormities. Experience has too clearly demonstrated, particularly in the extensive empire of Russia, that authority becomes weak, in proportion as it is farther removed from the center. How many years of vigilance and discipline are necessary, before abuses can be suppressed, and obedience effected! This has long been the object of the existing administration, and there is reason to presume that its exertions have not been fruitless. 56 Such was the project of a merchant of my acquaintance, who expected to derive from it the most considerable advantages. With the map of Cookes voyage in his hand, his intention was to enter the river that bears the name of this celebrated navigator, and to extend his course as far as the environs of the bay of Nootka. If he found himself able to execute his plan, it is possible that he would not be wholly deceived in his hopes, and his countrymen may, perhaps, be hereafter indebted to his information and courage for the knowledge of new sources of wealth. 57 See Vol. I. p. 140. 58 All of whom, as well as the different naval officers, are brought hither from Russia. To complete however their complement of sailors, M. Hall was obliged to raise recruits in the country; and the orders he brought were so precise, that the governor supplied him both with men and materials at his first requisition. 59 We have seen in the description of Okotsk, that these buildings constituted the part of the town appropriated to trade. Alarmed at this incident, they immediately unfurnished their shops, determined to remove into the government square, of consequence they undertook to rebuild the barracks, and considerably augmented the number of them. 60 The mode of preparing salmon is the same as at Kamtschatka. 61 I have already given an account of this sport, which takes place in the moulting season, and observed that a stick is the only weapon used on the occasion. 62 They consisted of leathern bags and portmanteaux; with this advantage, that they never gall the sides of the horses. The usual weight is five pouds, or two hundred pounds, and it never exceeds six pouds; that is, two hundred and forty. These loads they call viouki, and the horses that carry them viouschniloschadei. If the baggage to be carried be lighter or less cumbrous, they place it upon the back of the animal, and fasten it with a cord of hair that passes under his belly. 63 The Yakouts seemed not to be much concerned at the loss of these animals, and have no idea of affording them any assistance. When they refuse to go on, or fall down from weakness or fatigue, they are abandoned to their deplorable fate, and their carcasses are left to be devoured by bears, who never relinquish their prey while any thing remains but the bones. Every ten steps we see skeletons of these horses, and from Okotsk to the cross of Yudoma, I imagine that I passed more than two thousand. My conductors informed me that the majority had perished the preceding year, in conveying from Okotsk to Yakoutsk the different materials required for M. Billingss expedition, in consequence of having been surprised by the floods, which had been so sudden that the guides saved themselves with difficulty. A part of their loads were still under a kind of labazis, of which I have already spoken, where travellers place their effects till the waters subside. It was added, that the Yakouts lose in this manner every year four or five thousand horses, in transporting the different objects of the commerce which they undertake. 64 The Yakouts are so habituated to this exercise, that they might defy the most expeditious groom. They tie the horses three and three to each others tails, and a single rope serves to lead them all. 65 I was a witness on this day of a circumstance that deserves to be related. My Yakouts skilfully peeled off large pieces of bark from the pine tree, of which they formed a sort of tent or parapluie, under which they took up their abode during the night. 66 Beside various sorts of aquatic birds, we frequently met with the heathcock and the white partridge; we also appropriated their eggs to our use, wherever we could find them. 67 They were chiefly willows and alders; but deeper in the forests we perceived some firs and birch trees of a good height. 68 They use for this purpose a long and wide blade fastened at the end of a stick three feet long. This instrument serves them both as lance and axe. 69 I have already mentioned the quickness of the vegetation. Its progress was every day perceptible; the trees, which had been so long bare, gradually recovered their dress, and the country soon appeared like a vast meadow enamelled with rural flowers. What a spectacle for a man whose eye had for the space of six months seen nothing but frozen rivers, and mountains and plains covered with snow! It seemed to revive with nature, and to spring out of its ruins. 70 There is actually a cross erected on the bank of the river. 71 The abatement of the water was every day perceptible to the eye, and a longer delay would have exposed me to all the dangers of shoals, and the most formidable cataracts. 72 These boats are flat, and terminate in points at the two extremities. 73 It is called listvenischnoiederevo. 74 It pours itself into the Lena, at a little distance from, and north of, Yakoutsk. 75 This place is called Oustmayapristann or harbour of the mouth of the Maya. 76 During my five days navigation I had travelled near seven hundred wersts. 77 Independently of various other cattle, he had a stud of two thousand horses in very good condition, though he had lost a considerable number by the conveyances occasioned by M. Billings expedition. From the manner in which he spoke of his submission to the will of the empress, I judged that he felt no reluctance at any sacrifices that proved his zeal. 78 I met with many of these chiefs, to whom this language was as familiar as their own. 79 See Vol. I. p. 184. 80 Nothing is more easy than to distinguish the chamans, who let their hair grow, and tie it behind, from the Yakouts, who wear their hair short. 81 The instrument which I here style a flute, is a bone hollowed and fashioned somewhat like our fltes  loignon, and its tone is not less acute. 82 The bark is stripped off, and the stakes either painted various colours, or ornamented with rude sculpture. 83 In speaking of the saddles, I ought to have added that the stirrups are very short. 84 Three horses pay here the same as one in Siberia. 85 There would be no end to my repetitions if I were to mention all the civilities I received from each of these Yakout princes. 86 The bark of this tree is stripped off in the spring. 87 I was the first traveller this year from Okotsk that had yet arrived at Yakoutsk. The distance between these places is about fifteen hundred wersts. 88 M. Marklofski was to hold the office till M. Kasloff arrived. 89 The Lena crosses Siberia in nearly its widest part, from northeast to southwest, and pours itself afterwards into the Frozen Ocean. 90 I shall say nothing of the mode of government, as it is similar to that of Okotsk. 91 The post expences are not the greater on account of this distance; a man is paid at the same rate as a horse. 92 They always fastened to my boat a small canoe, in which they return home, and which is carried along by the mere current of the river. 93 It is also called Olekminsk. 94 He informed me that the borders of the Lena were inhabited on this side by different hordes of his countrymen. I must observe, that the Toungouses and Lamouts may be regarded as the same people. 95 The fish with which this river principally abounds is the sturgeon, or sterled. The industry of the Toungouses, makes caviare of the eggs of this fish, as we do. 96 From a principle the reverse of that of the Koriacs, the Toungouses always milk the female deer. This milk, which they made me taste, is very thick. 97 Their journeys extend as far as the frontiers of Tartary and China. 98 As we approached Irkoutsk, the direction of the river became narrow. I remarked that the country was better cultivated; the wheat especially was very fine. 99 These kibitks are in the shape of a large cradle. They are not hung upon any thing, and though you may lie down in them, you feel every jolt of the carriage. 100 Almost all his children speak French; one of the sons writes it correctly, and possesses, as well as his brother, a thousand amiable qualities. They have a sister married to the vicegovernor. 101 During my stay at Okotsk, M. Kokh, at my request, had willingly conferred on him the rank of corporal. This unexpected favour made so strong an impression upon him, that, on his return from the parade, I thought he would have become mad from joy and gratitude. 102 This treaty, which had been drawn up in Latin by these religious negociators, was translated into the Russian and Mantchew languages, and respectively ratified by the two sovereigns. This was the first instance, since the foundation of the Russian empire, of a treaty of peace being entered into by this nation, and foreigners permitted to enter the capital. At this epoch there were a number of Siberian families at Pekin, deserters or prisoners, and who, from the goodness of the emperor Kamhi resolved to settle there, and even to naturalize themselves. 103 It is in this manner the Russians write and pronounce the word Czar. 104 Individuals soon freed themselves from the tyrannical shackles of the royal monopoly; they carried on a secret intercourse with China, by means of the Mongoul Tartars, who sold their mediation at a high price. 105 The reader will find in Coxe all the details respecting these boundaries. 106 This, I believe, is the place called by the Russians Namatschinn. 107 When I was at Okotsk, tea was sixteen roubles a pound, and very scarce. I was told that it was sent from Petersburg, and that Russia at present procured this article either from England or Holland. 108 On my arrival in Siberia I was informed, at various times, that the Russian merchants repented of the speculations they had made in consequence of the late adjustment; and as a proof that they considered it as void, many of them, who opened their warehouses to shew me the prodigious quantity of skins which they had buried in them, agreed in saying that they waited impatiently for the time when a new treaty would give them an opportunity of getting rid of their commodities. If I might be permitted to give my opinion, I would venture to assert, that the dearest interests, both of Russia and China, are concerned in the speedy accomplishment of this new compact; but, that it may be cemented in a manner more durable and beneficial to the respective commerce of the two nations, it will perhaps be first necessary that they should, in concert, lighten the burthen of taxes, and take away all the restrictions that intimidate and discourage the merchant. It might also be expedient for Russia, profiting of the physical and natural advantages she possesses from her situation, to fit out ships from Okotsk or Kamtschatka, or some other port, which might go directly to Macao or Canton, and carry on the trade at a much less expence than by land. The communication between Okotsk and Siberia is not very difficult, and this province would doubtless become more flourishing when this route was more frequented. These reflections naturally led me to what I have said in the first volume of this work (note, p. 9.) of the project of an English merchant at Macao. Why should not the Russians make similar attempts? Have they not better opportunities than the English of monopolizing the fur trade with China? When the way was once opened, it would be easy to extend the communication to new objects. I say nothing of the inestimable advantage that Russia would derive from this commercial navigation, in having numerous and skilful seamen. 109 Desirous of finishing my journey more expeditiously, I left the greater part of my effects with M. Medvedoff, a merchant, who politely undertook to send them to Petersburg. To settle this business, he invited me to sup with him. While we were at table, the town experienced an earthquake, which was tolerably violent, and lasted two minutes. We perceived it by the shaking of our glasses, table, and chairs; all the bells sounded, and many turrets were thrown down. Upon the first terror it occasioned, various conjectures were formed respecting the cause of this shock; as I perceived that the motion, or undulation, was from south to north, it was supposed to originate in a neighbouring lake, called Baikal. I leave it to naturalists to decide the question. 110 This river, taking the name of Tounkoutska, runs as far as Yenisei (near the town of Yeniseisk) and, at some distance from Irkoutsk, falls into the vast lake, which the Russians call the sea of Baikal. This lake is said to be surrounded with lofty mountains, its water is fresh, but the navigation of it is unsafe, on account of the frequent storms to which it is exposed. I much regret the not having been able to visit it. 111 The strength of my expressions in describing my sentiments towards this soldier, require, in my opinion, no apology. I have nothing to say to any one that shall blame me, when informed of the services he rendered me. 112 Among these authors I shall mention Gmelin, Neveu, Lepekinn, Ritschkoff, Falk and Georgi, abbe Chappe, and Pallas. The last particularly has in his descriptions the triple merit of accuracy, energy, and extensive information. 113 There were some persons of distinction among them. 114 Its borders are said to be infested with robbers, who are probably nothing more than the watermen. I saw many of them in my route, but never received the smallest insult. 115 It is a praise due to the postilions of Russia; in no part are we driven so rapidly, and the reason is that they are almost always tipsy. In the villages, after harvest, it is necessary to take them by force from the public houses. 116 These towns are well known: I passed them with such speed as scarcely to see them. VOCABULARY OF THE KAMTSCHADALE, KORIAC, TCHOUKTCHI, AND LAMOUT LANGUAGES. ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. GOD Bokh Douchtakhtchitch, Kamakliou Eniga Khouki 1 Kout  Koutka or Angag Father Otets Epep Empitch Illiguin Amai Mother Matt Engatcha Ella Illa Eni Child Dittia Ptch Kmouiguin Ninkhai Khoutean I Ia Kimma Guiomma Guim Bi Name (of Ima Kharntch Ninna Ninna Guerbin a thing) A circle, Kroug Kill la Kil Kamlell Kilvo Miourati or round Smell Doukh Tchkh outch Voui voui Vouie guirguin Ounga An animal Zvr Kazit kenguiia Alliougoullou Illpouilla Boioun A stake Koll Outlept kouitch Oupouinpin Oupinpekhai Tipiioun A river Rka Kiig Veiem Veiem Okat Labour Rabota Kazonem Iakhitchat Tirtirkigssinn Gourgalden guiguin Death Smrt Eranim Veiaguiguin Veiigou Kokan Water Voda Azamkh or Ji Mima Mimil Mou The sea Mor Ezouk Ankan Ankho Nam Mountain Gora Inzit Guigui Neit Ouraktchan Evil Boll Lodonim Tatch guiguin Tgul Eien Indolence Lnn Khalacik Kouloumgatomg Tlounga Ban Summer Lta Adempliss Alaal Elek Anganal The year God Tkhatkhass Guiviguiv Guioud Angan ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. The Svtt Atkhat Khtchguikhei Kheiguikei Guvan universe Salt Soll Peipiem Yamyam Teguiou Tak An ox Bouik Kezioung Tchimga Penvel Gueldak The Certs Guillioun Lingling Liig ling Mvan heart Strength Cila Kekhkekh Niktvoukhin Nikatoukhin Egui Health Zdrava Klouvesk Tmelessvouk Gu mlevli Abgar Well Kharacho Klioubello Nimlkhin Nimelkhin Aa Ill Dourno Keiel Khatkin Guetkin Kanioulit The hand Rouka Tonno or Mouina galguin Mouinguit Gal Cettoud The foot Noga Katkha or Guit galguin Guitkalguin Boudel Tkada The ear Oukho Allo or Vlioulguin Velioulguin Gorot Jioud The nose Noss Kekiou or Enguittaam Ekhkhaiakh Ogot Kika The Rott Cekc or Ikniguin Guikirguin Amga mouth Kissa The head Glava Khobel or Lout Lout Del Tkhouzga The Gorlo Kouikh Pilguin Pilguin Belga throat The Lob Tchoutschel Kitschal Kitschal Omkat forehead or Tchikika A tooth Zoub Kip khpp Bannalguin Ritti Itt The Iazik Ditchel Lill Guiguil Enga tongue The Lokott Tallotall Nitschiouvtt Kirvouliin Etschn elbow The Paltsi Tkida or Ilguit Tchnilguit Khabrr fingers Kiknn The Nokhti Koud or Vguit Vguit Osta nails Kououn The Choki Ai ioud Elpitt Irspitt Anntschinn cheeks or Prnn The Chia Khaitt Ennann Inguik Mivonn neck The Pletcho Tanioud or Iilpitt Tchilpiv Mirr shoulder Tenno The Brioukho KKhailita Nannkhnn Nannkhinn Ourr belly The Nozdri Kanngassounn Innvalt KhElonn nostrils The Brovi Taltnn Litchvtt Kharamta eyebrows The Rssnitsi Khenng Illiatchiguit Virvitt eyelids iatschourenn ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. The face Litso Gounng Lioulgoulkhall Lioulgolkhill Itti The back Spina Karo Khaptiann Khptitt Nri Natural Kallkhann parts of a man Natural Kouappa parts of a woman The blood Krov Bechlem Moulliou moul Moulliou moul Souguial Great Vliko Tgolo Nimankin Nimankin Ekjam Small Malo Outchinnlo Ouppouliou Niouppouliou Niouki khin kin schoukan High Vouisloko Kranalo Niguin Nivlikhin Gouda guimakhen Low Nisko Disoulo Nivtokhin Nivkhodin Niatkoukak The sun Solntz Koulltch Tikiti Tirkiti Nioultian The moon Mcts Kirkhkirkh Yalguin Tschatamoui Bekh A star Zvzda Ezengitch Lillia Egur Ossikatt petschan The sky Nbo Kokhkhll Khigan Kehiguin Nian, or Djioulbka A ray Loutch Tseiguilik Tikakh Tirkhikhmell Elganni Mouinpen Fire Ogonn Briououmkhitch Mouilguin Mouiltimouil Tog or Panitch Heat Jarr Kkak Koutigu Nitilkhin Khokhssin ltonn The voice Goloss Khalo Koumguikoum Khoullikhoul Delgann A door Dvr Onnotch Tllitl Titil Ourka A hole in Iama Khioup Zolou Nouterguin Kengra the ground ioulguin Day Dnn Taaje Alvoui Liougiout Ining Night Notsch Kiounnouk Nikinik Likita Golbani A town Grad Attiim Gouina Vouivou Gorad Life Jizn Zot lnm Kioulgatnguin Toukoulguiarm Inni A forest Lss Ou out Outitou Outit Khenita Grass Trava Chichtch Biigai Bagaling Orat Sleep Sonn Caksn Mil kharik Guiilkht Ouklan iarinn A tree or Drvo Ou or Out Outouout Outtiougout Mo wood To sleep Spatt Oun ekleni Kouel Miilkhamik Ouklada khalangui To cut Rzatt Lzinim Koutch Viguin Khitschviguin Minada To tie, to Vzatt Tratak Tin mouiguin Trmitim Gadgim fasten Measure Mra Tiakinioung Tenn mtn Nig eni Ilkavonn Gold Zoloto Elni Tschedliou Mrka plvouitinn pouilvouitnn Silver Srbro Elni Nilguikin Mgun plvouitinn pouilvouitnn A hearth Otchag Ak kannim Melguippioul Milguipialguin Nerka guin A house Domm Kizd Ia ianga Valkarad Djou The Sloukh Ioulloteliim Tikovaloming Valioulm Issni hearing The sight Zreni Eltchkioulnim Tikila Mogourkim Igouroun ounguin The taste Vkouss Tal tal Amtam The smell Obonani Kheisk Kotkeng Tikerkin Moini The skin Koja Salsa Nalguin Nelguin Iss, or Nandra Stay, stop Sto Khimikhtch Khanni Khvellia Ill vouilgui A dog Sabaca Kossa Kh attaan Guttin Ninn An egg Iaitso Dilkhatch Ligli Liglig Oumta A bird Ptissa Disskhilt Gallia Gallia Dei A feather Pro Cissiou Tgulguin Tgul Detl Husband Mouje, Kiskoug Ouiakhotch Ourakhotch Edi or Mouch Wife Gna Tigen outch Nvgann Nvgann Achi Brother Bratt Tiga Khaita Khata Akann kalguin kalguin Sister Sstra Dikhtoung Tchaa kiguit Tchakiguitch Eken Love Lioubov Allokhtel Kekmitcha Nitvaguim Goudj anim angui mona To love Lioubitt Tallokhtel Ekmoukoulni Tchivatchim Aa azinn guin vrovou A letter Zmlia Cimmit Noutelkhen Noultenour Tor A girdle Poass Ciititt Iguit Ririt Boat A stone Kaminn Kouall Gouvin Vougonn Djoul Give Da Katkou Khinlgui Ktam Omouli Go, begone Padi, Tout Khallikhatigui Khl khit Khourli padi potsch No Nitt Biinakitlik Ouinni Ouina Atcha Yes Da Lbell E E Ya To drink Pitt Ekoss kholnim Mouiv Migoutschi Koldakou vouitschik The Vrema Takkhit, or Khoulitik Khouriti Khren weather Takkhiiat Thick Tolst Khaoumouilli Nooumkhin Nioumkhin Drom A bone Kost Kotg amtch Kh attaam Ettemkai Ipri To sing Ptt Ang issonim Kagannguiang Khoulikhoul Ikann Light, Lgok Dimss khoulou Ninnakhin Nimirkoukhin Amkhoun (not heavy) A cow Karova Khoukoum A sheep, Barann Koulem Kitb Ktb Ouiamkan or Argali A pig Svinia2 A goose Gouss Kissouiss Erbatsch A duck Outka Ditchimatch Nki A ditch, Rov Atchpouinnim Nota Nivkhschin Khouniram or canal guilguiguin koutrguin Fruit Plod Issgatessitch Ivouinann Vouinnia kha Baldaran Horn Rov Dttnn Innalguin Avalkhschla Tannia Good Dobro Klioubello Malguiguin Nimelhhin Aa Bad Khoudo Kkllello Kh antkinn Guerkin Kannaialit A root Korn Jangettsch Nimmakin Kimgaka Kh obkann The trunk Pnn Enni Tattkhoub Outtkhai Moudakann of a tree mellokoll gutchvouili The bark Kora Ireitch Il khelguin Ourta White Blo Gunnkalo Nilgatkhin Nilgakin Gultadi Red Krasno Tchatchalo Neit Tchdlionl Khoulania Tschikhin Wine, or Vino Koabkhoazamg Akhamimil Akamimil Mina brandy To sow Siatt Bread Khlb 3 Oats Oveuss Rye Rosch To cover Scritt Khankhlidinn Khinia Khinvaguini Djairam tchiaguin ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. To carry Nossit Lnouiarenk Khinalguitati Traavam Guenoum To draw Vozit Khningekhtch Kounguinin Gurvouli Gue lbouttiann An oak Doub Atviniakou Etvou Tschourna A ship Soudno, Tokh, khatim Konaoutiguing Matarkin Koptonn karable Marriage Brak En itipositch Kitilkhin Avlann A plain Pola Ouskh A field Pachna To till Pakhatt A plough Sokha An harrow Borona Pain, Troud Akhltipkonnim Iakhitchat Lioulngatt Gourgaldnn fatigue guiguin A girl Dva, Oukhtchitch Ianguianaouv Nvoui Khounatch or tchkhatt Dvka A boy Maltchik Pekh Ak kapill Nnkha Khourkann atchoutch A pigeon Goloub A guard Storoje Annatchourna Koun oung Eioulaka Etteiram Growth Rost Goudatch A bed, Rodini Iouss ass Kmigatalik Gukmiil Baldajakann to lie khnizatch in bed Power, Vlast Inatch Katvouguiguin Tschinvo Ekjanni will kkvaouv The Vtschr Ettm Anguivnguin Arguiviguin Khisseatchin evening A horse Konn, Mourak, or or Lochat Mourann The Outro Moukoulass Iakhimitiv Rakhmitiv Badjakar morning Now Tper Engou Ettchigui Ettchigui Tk Before Prjed Koummtt Inkip Ettiol Djoulla After Poss Dmll Iavatching Iavatchi Essimak Thou Ti Kiz Guitch Guir Ssi We Moui Bouze Mouiou Mouri Bou He On Ti Enno Inkhann Nong annioube She Onna Tschii Ennonvit kht Inkhann Nong ann achi nvann They Onni Ti nakil Ioutschou Innkhahatt Kong artann You Voui Souze Touiou Touri Khou Here Zdff Ttchkh Gouitkou Voutkou Ellia There Tamm Kk koui Nanko Nenko Tala Look Vott Ttk oun GoutTinno Nottkhan Er there! A beard Boroda Elloud Llou Lliout Tchourkann Hair Voloss Tchrakhtchr, Nitchouvoui Kirvouitt Niouritt or koubid Cries Krik Orang Koukomgalag Niktmr Irkann torritch guina Noise Schoumm Oukh Kouvitchi Ioulnorkinn Ouldann vchtchitch guitchigutok Waves of Volni Kga Kantchiguitang Guittchguin Bialga the sea Sand Pssok Bezzalik Tchigui Tchiga Onang Clay Glina Kitt khim Att ann Tlbak Verdure Zlnn Dokhle kralo Touivga Tourvgui Tchoulbann Green Zlnoi Tchoulbalrann A worm Tschrf Gepitch Ennigum Ennigun Ougill A branch Souk Iousstiltch Elligr Garr Leaves Listi Bouilt lell Voutou outo Khokhonguit Ebdernia Rain Dojede Tchoukh tchou Moukhmouk Rontti Oudann Hail Grad Koutg atta Niklout Guguli Bota ronntiti ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. Lightning Molnia Kig kikh Kigui guilann Agdiou tapkittann Snow Sng Korell Gallagall Ellgell Imandra Cold Stouja Kenntch Khialguin Tchagtchnng Igunn Mud Gress Tcha ou sch Ekkaguiguin Gukitch Boullakkh kaguirguin Milk Moloko Doukh nn Lioukhi Lioukha Oukiouln Man Tschlovk Krochtcho Ouimtvouilann Khlavoll Bi Old Starr Kizkh Enn pann Gunpivli Sagdi ktlinn Young Molodd Linnttlk Goitchik Goradchik Nioulsioul khtchann Quick Scoro Dikhak Inna Inngu Oumouchat Slow Tikho Dikh Mtchinn Noulmagu Ett niou ltchoull Koukann The Liudi Krochtchorann Toumgou Nilchikhikhlavoll Bill world, people How? Kak Libch Mintchi Miniri Onn Where? Gd Binni Gaminna Guemi Illa When? Kogda Ittia Tit Tita Ok What? Tchto Enokitch Inna Rakhnout Ek To whom? Kmm Kiouliout Mki Mikinm Ni To what, Tchmm Enok kaell Ioukhkh Rakhkha Etch with what Fish Riba Ennitch Innann Inna Olra Meat Mssa Talt gall Khostokvoll Khoratoll Oulra Bank Brg Khamenn Antchouimm Tchourma Kholinn Depth Gloubina Ammamm Nimm khnn Nimkhinn Khounta Height Vouissota Krannall Niguinguillokhnn Nilikinn Oousskias soukounn Width Chirina Ank Iakill Nalamkhinn Niougoumkhinn Dmga Length Dlina Ioulijl Nivlikhinn Nivlikhinn Gonaminn An axe Topor Kouachou Khaall Galgat Tobar Dust Pouil Tzitch Guitkaoutch Noultschkhin Kh innbouial nguilrnn A Vikhr Tvtvi, Noutguinn, Mnivouial, Kh ou whirlwind or or pourga  A tempest Boura Pourga pourga Kh oungua A knife Kholm Tek Tnoup Nittipell Khoupkann khoulitch A Mja Khidla boundary, a leading string A mouse Mouich Dekhoultch Pipikhilguin Pipikhilnik Tchaliouk tchann A fly Moukha Khalimltch Galamit Mrnn Dilkann A nail Gvozd Tipkitinn A dispute Brann Letch Kaouv tchitng Nipilvouit Djargamatt khalikalim oukhinat Warrior Vonn Tesk koullou Enn khvlann Niktioukhin Tchkti khlavol War Voina Arrokhl Nonn mitchlangui  Kh konim Maraour ounniattia Battery Draka Loss Kotkinaoutchlaanguikinatt Koussi komozitch  katchinn ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. Breast Lati Mitchiguv Ekhev Djbouvla plate Agreement Lad Killiouch Kovlevlangui Tngugiarkim Antaki Peace Mir Lomstach Mitang tvla Minvouilimouik Anmoldar Content, Rad Khaiouk Tiguinvok Teigugiarkim Ariouldiouln delighted A robber Tad Soukh Koutou Nitoulakhnn Djiourminn vorr atchoutch lagaitng A hole Dira Palp gall Khnpi Patriguinn Khangar To pour Litt Liousszitch Koutagannguinn Nkoutanit Ounitchip To boil Varitt Kokazok Koukoukvong Khouitik Oladjim To go Ltch Khalitch Matchgatik Mingatchamouik Dastchissindim to bed Sex Pol Ozatitt Tchtchaguing Kh arann Below Pod Cssko Erguidalinn Above Nad Odalinn Without Bz Innakinvka Ekh A Ag idali Mis Bda Titch Kink Tschmgakitchoguidinn Ourgadou fortune Victory Pobda Danntch Mouitinntaouvnaou Guinnitillim Dabdarann tchkitchtch The Bll Guenn kalo Nilgaguinn Nilguikhin Gultaldi softest and whitest part of a tree under the bark Been Bouill Dllitch Nivanngamm Nitvanguim Khoulssinn Ice Ld Kirvoul Khillguil Tinntinn Boukoss To beat Bitt Emill Tnnkiplnn Tratalannvouim Maddia tchaliim A whale Kitt Dnn Iounni Rgv Kalim Fallen Pall Etkhl khlinn Vouiggui Vouii Tikrinn A vapour Par Tchounsstch Kipilating Nilnik Okssinn Lament Volp Kkhanagtch Kotinn gatinng Trnatirinnat Khogandra ation Briskly Jivo Zountchitch Koukioulgtinng Evguika Inenn Disease Zlo Khakaitt Khantt kinn Akhali Mbouvkatchalrann lilzitch Or Jli Gakka Mttk Evouirr Irk To them Imm Dou Enninng Innkhananntnng Nogordoutann nkaldakioul ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. KORIAC. TCHOUKTCHI. LAMOUT. One Idin Dizitt Ennann Inienn Oumounn Two Dva Kaacha Niikh Nirakh Djiour Three Tri Tchook Niioukh Nrioukh Elann Four Tchtir Tchaak Niiakh Nrakh Digonn Five Ptt Kom tak Mouillanguinn Mouilligunn Tonngonn Six Schft Killkokk Ennann Innann Nioungann mouillanguinn mouilligunn Seven Smme Ettgatanok Niiakh Nirakh Nadann mouillanguinn mouilligunn Eight Vossmm Tchokh Niioukh Annvrotkinn Djpkann ottnokh mouillanguinn Nine Dvtt Tchakh Khonna Khonatchinki Ouiounnv attanokh tchinkinn Ten Dssett Tchom khotako Mouinguitkinn Mouinguikinn Mr Twenty Dvatstt Kaachatcho Khalik Khlikkinn Djirmr khotako Thirty Trisstt Tchooktchom Kh Khlipkinn Elak mr khotako alikmouinguitkinn mouinguit kinnparol Forty Sorok Tchaaktchom Nikh alik Nirakh Digun khotako khlipkinn mr Fifty Pettdsstt Komitak Nikh Nirakh Tongam tchom alikmouinguitkinn khlipkinn mr khotako mouinguitkinn parol Sixty Schsdssett Kilkok Nikh khalik Nrokh Nioungam tchom khlipkinn mr khotako Seventy Smdessett Etaganokh Nioukh Neurde Nadann tchom alikmouinguitkinn khlipkinn mr khotako mouinguitkinn parol Eighty Vossmdessett Tchokh Niakhkhalik Nrakh Djpkann attnokh khlipkinn mr tchom khotako Ninety Dvenosto Tchakh Niak Nrakhkhlipkin Oulonn attanokh alikmouinguitkinn mouinguitkinn mr tchom parol khotako An hundred Sto Tchom Mouilanguinn Mouil Niata khotakotcom khalik liguing khotako khlip guitkinn A thousand Tisstcha Mouinguit kinn Mouinguitkinn Mnn mouilanguin khlipkinn namall khalik 1 The reader may consult the Preface for the pronounciation. 2 They have no knowledge of this animal. 3 The blank spaces in the Kamtschadale, Koriac, Tchouktchi, and Lamout columns are not filled up for want of proper words in the respective languages of these people. When they want to express the objects meant by those words, they make use of the Russian terms. VOCABULARY OF THE KAMTSCHADALE LANGUAGE, At St. Peter and St. Paul, and at Paratounka1. ENGLISH. RUSSIAN. KAMTSCHADALE. Picture of a saint Obrass Noukhtchatchitch Isba, Russian house Isba Kisout Window Okno Okno Table Stoll Ouzitor A stove, furnace Petch Patch Subterranean house Iourta Kntchitch A Kamtschadale Kamtschadal Itolmatch An officer Afitsr Houizoutchitch An interpreter Prvodtschik Ka aa touss A sledge Sanki Skaskatt Harness the dogs Japrga Sobaki Kozaps nouzak Harness for dogs Alaki Tennemjeda A mirror Zerklo Ouattchitch Water Voda I, i Fire Ogonn Panitch Light the fire Dostann ogonn Na anidakhtch Gun Fouzea, or Rouji Koum A bottle Boutilka Souala A bag Mchok Maoutch Tea Tcha Amtchaouj Forks Vilki Tchoumkoussi A spoon Lochka Kachpa A knife Nojik Vatchiou A plate Torlka Trlika A tablecloth Scatrt Itakhatt A napkin Salftka Toutkcha Bread Khlb Kop kom A waistcoat Kamzol Ikoumtnakh Breeches Schtani Kouaou Stockings Tchoulki Pamann Boots Sapogui Kotnokot A sort of boot made of the skin of the sea wolf or the feet of rein deer. Torbassi Skhvanioud A shoe Bochmaki Konkot A shift or shirt Roubachka Ourvann Gloves Prtchaki Kikaskhroulid A ring Perstnn Konnazoutchm Give some food Da ist Sgcha Give some water to drink Da pitt vodi Kotkoii Paper Boumaga N, ks A book Kniga Kalikol A cup Tchachka Saja The head Golova Tkhouzja The forehead Lop Tchikika The hair Volossi Koubid The eyes Glaza Nadid The nose Noss Kika The mouth Rot Kissa The hands Rouki Sttoud The feet Nogui Tchkada The body Tlo Konkha The eyebrows Brovi Titdad The fingers Paltsi Pkida The nails Nokhti Koud The cheeks Schtchoki Abalioud The neck Schia Khatill The ears Ouchi Iioud The shoulders Pltcha Tanioud A cap Chapka Khalaloutch A sash Kouchak Sitit A needle Igla Chicha A Thimble Naprstok Oulioul Give your hand Da roukou Kot kossoutou Take this present Primi prznt Kamati Thank you Blagodarstvouiou Dlamoui Wash the shirt Vouimoui roubachki Kadmouikh Soap Mouilo Kadkhom A sable Sobol Komkom A fox Lissitsa Tchachiann An otter Vouidra Mouichmouich A hare Ouchkann, Zats Mouis tchitch An ermine Gornostall Deitchitch A goose Gouss Ksoass A duck Outka Archimonss Chicken Kouritsa Kokorok A swan Lbd Maskhou A bear Medvd Kaza A wolf Volk Kotaioum A cow Korova Koouja Fish Riba Etchiou Meat Msso Tatal Butter Masso Kotkhom Milk Moloka Nokonn Give food immediately Daistpo skori Kotkotakossask Give something to drink immediately Dapittposkorie Tikossosk Husband Mouje Alkou Wife Baba, jna Kanija Daughter Dfka Outchitchiou Infant Malinnko robnok Paatchitch A church Tsrkov Takakijout A priest Pop Iakatchitch A priests wife Popadiia Alnatsch A servant of the Church Diatchok Diiatchok A church chandelier Padilo Kapoutchitch One Idinn Dizk Two Dva Kaza Three Tri Tsoko Four Tchtir Tsak Five Ptt Koumnak Six Schst Kilkok Seven Smm Idadok Eight Vossmm Tsoktouk Nine Dvtt Tsaktah Ten Dsstt Koumouktoukh Eleven Ydinn nadsst Dizkkina Twelve Dva nadsst Kachichina Thirteen Tri nadsst Tchokchina Fourteen Tchtir nadsst Tchakchina Fifteen Ptt nadsst Koumnakchina Sixteen Schst nadsst Kilkoukchina Seventeen Sm nadsst Paktoukchina Eighteen Vossm nadsst Tchoktouk Nineteen Dvtt nadsst Tchaktak Twenty Dvatsst Koumhhtouk Fifty Pttdsst Koumkhtoukha An hundred Sto Koumkhtoukoumkhtoukha 1 Though the language at Bolcheretsk be different from what is spoken at both these places, all the words of this Vocabulary are there made use of. END OF THE VOCABULARY. Transcribers Notes Text printed in italics has been transcribed between underscores. Small capitals have been replaced with ALL CAPITALS. text represents superscript text. More Transcribers Notes may be found at the end of this text. ESSAYS ON THE MICROSCOPE. Illustration: T.S. Duch pinxit Truth discovering to Time, Science instructing her Children in the Improvements on the Microscope. London, Published July 1.st 1787, by Geo.e Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street. ESSAYS ON THE MICROSCOPE; CONTAINING A PRACTICAL DESCRIPTION OF THE MOST IMPROVED MICROSCOPES; A GENERAL HISTORY OF INSECTS, THEIR TRANSFORMATIONS, PECULIAR HABITS, AND CONOMY: AN ACCOUNT OF THE VARIOUS SPECIES, AND SINGULAR PROPERTIES, OF THE HYDR AND VORTICELL: A DESCRIPTION OF THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTYTHREE ANIMALCULA: WITH A CONCISE CATALOGUE OF INTERESTING OBJECTS: A VIEW OF THE ORGANIZATION OF TIMBER, AND THE CONFIGURATION OF SALTS, WHEN UNDER THE MICROSCOPE. ILLUSTRATED WITH THIRTYTWO FOLIO PLATES BY THE LATE GEORGE ADAMS, MATHEMATICAL INSTRUMENT MAKER TO HIS MAJESTY, c. THE SECOND EDITION, WITH CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS, BY FREDERICK KANMACHER, F. L. S. LONDON: PRINTED BY DILLON AND KEATING, FOR THE EDITOR; AND FOR W. AND S. JONES, HOLBORN. MDCCXCVIII. PRICE 1l. 8s. IN BOARDS. TO THE KING. SIR, Every work that tends to enlarge the boundaries of science has a peculiar claim to the protection of Kings. He that diffuses science, civilizes man, opens the inlets to his happiness, and cooperates with the Fountain and Source of all knowledge. By science truth is advanced; and of DIVINE TRUTH Kings are the representatives. The work which I have now the honour to present to YOUR MAJESTY, calls the attention of the reader to those laws of Divine order by which the universe is governed and supported; in it we find that the minutest beings share in the protection, and triumph in the bounty of the Sovereign of all things: that the infinitely small manifest to the astonished eye the same proportion, regularity and design, which are conspicuous to the unassisted sight in the larger parts of creation. By finding all things formed in beauty, and produced for use, the mind is raised from the fleeting and evanescent appearances of matter, to contemplate the permanent principles of truth, and acknowledge that the whole proceeds from the wisdom that originates in love. It was by YOUR MAJESTYS goodness and gracious patronage that I was first induced to undertake a description of mathematical and philosophical instruments, that I might thereby facilitate the attainment of those sciences that are connected with them, and by shewing what was already obtained, excite emulation, and quicken invention. It is to the same goodness that I am indebted for this opportunity of subscribing myself, SIR, YOUR MAJESTYS Most humble, Most obedient, and most dutiful Subject and Servant, GEORGE ADAMS. PREFACE. In the preface to my ESSAYS ON ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM, I informed the public that it was my intention to publish, from time to time, essays describing the construction and explaining the use of mathematical and philosophical instruments, in their present state of improvement. This work will, I hope, be considered as a performance of my promise, as far as relates to the subject here treated of.1 1 Towards the completion of this design, our author afterwards published, 1. Astronomical and Geographical Essays; 2. Geometrical and Graphical Essays; 3. An Essay on Vision; 4. Lectures on Natural and Experimental Philosophy. He had projected other compilations, and was preparing a new edition of this work; but, alas! how uncertain are all human projects! constant attention to an extensive business and to literature, preyed on a constitution far from robust, and at length rapidly accelerated his dissolution, which happened at Southampton, on the 14th of August, 1795; aged 45. By this event, the world was prematurely deprived of the beneficial effects of his farther labours, and his friends of the conversation of a man, whose amiable and communicative disposition endeared him to all those who had the pleasure of knowing him. His life had been devoted to religious and moral duties, to the acquisition of science, and its diffusion for the benefit of mankind. To those who had no personal knowledge of Mr. ADAMS, his works will continue to display his merits as an author, and his virtues as a valuable member of society. EDIT. The first chapter contains a short history of the invention and improvements that have been made on the microscope, and Father Di Torres method of making his celebrated glass globules. The second treats of vision, in which I have endeavoured to explain in a familiar manner the reason of those advantages which are obtained by the use of magnifying lenses; but as the reader is supposed to be unacquainted with the elements of this science, so many intermediate ideas have been necessarily omitted, as must in some degree lessen the force, and weaken the perception of the truths intended to be inculcated: to have given these, would have required a treatise on optics. In the third chapter, the most improved microscopes, and some others which are in general use, are particularly described; no pains have been spared to lessen the difficulty of observation, and remove obscurity from description; the relative advantages of each instrument are briefly pointed out, to enable the reader to select that which is best adapted to his pursuits. The method of preparing different objects for observation, and the cautions necessary to be observed in the use of the microscope, are the subjects of the fourth chapter. When I first undertook the present essays, I had confined myself to a republication of my fathers work, entitled, Micrographia Illustrata; but I soon found that both his and Mr. Bakers tracts on the microscope were very imperfect. Natural history had not been so much cultivated at the period when they wrote, as it is in the present day. To the want of that information which is now easily obtained, we may with propriety impute their errors and imperfections. I have, therefore, in the fifth chapter, after some general observations on the utility of natural history, endeavoured to remedy their defects, by arranging the subject in systematic order, and by introducing the microscopic reader to the system of Linnus, as far as relates to insects: by this he will learn to discriminate one insect from another, to characterize their different parts, and thus be better enabled to avoid error himself, and to convey instruction to others. As the transformations which insects undergo, constitute a principal branch of their history, and furnish many objects for the microscope, I have given a very ample description of them; the more so, as many microscopic writers, by not considering these changes with attention, have fallen into a variety of mistakes. Here I intended to stop; but the charms of natural history are so seducing, that I was led on to describe the peculiar and striking marks in the conomy of these little creatures. And should the purchaser of these essays receive as much pleasure in reading this part as I did in compiling it; should it induce him to study this part of natural history; nay, should it only lead him to read the stupendous work of the most excellent Swammerdam, he will have no reason to regret his purchase, and one of my warmest wishes will be gratified. In the next chapter I have endeavoured to give the reader some idea of the internal parts of insects, principally from M. Lyonets Anatomical and Microscopical Description of the Caterpillar of the Cossus or Goatmoth. As this book is but little known in our country, I concluded that a specimen of the indefatigable labour of this patient and humane anatomist would be acceptable to all lovers of the microscope; and I have, therefore, appropriated a plate, which, whilst it shews what may be effected when microscopic observation is accompanied by patience and industry, displays also the wonderful organization of this insect. This is followed by a description of several miscellaneous objects, of which no proper idea could be formed without the assistance of glasses. To describe the freshwater polype or hydra; to give a short history of the discovery of these curious animals, and some account of their singular properties, is the business of the succeeding chapter. The properties of these animals are so extraordinary, that they were considered at first to be as contrary to the common course of nature, as they really were to the received opinions of animal life. Indeed, who can even now contemplate without astonishment animals that multiply by slips and shoots like a plant? that may be grafted together as one tree to another, that may be turned inside out like a glove, and yet live, act, and perform all the various functions of their contracted spheres? As nearly allied to these, the chapter finishes with an account of those vorticell which have been enumerated by Linnus. It has been my endeavour to dissipate confusion by the introduction of order, to dispose into method, and select under proper heads the substance of all that is known relative to these little creatures, and in the compass of a few pages to give the reader the information that is dispersed through volumes. From the hydr and vorticell, it was natural to proceed to the animalcula which are to be found in vegetable infusions; microscopic beings, that seem as it were to border on the infinitely small, that leave no space destitute of inhabitants, and are of greater importance in the immense scale of beings than our contracted imagination can conceive; yet, small as they are, each of them possesses all that beauty and proportion of organized texture which is necessary to its wellbeing, and suited to the happiness it is called forth to enjoy. A short account of three hundred and seventyseven2 of these minute beings is then given, agreeable to the system of the laborious Mller, enlarging considerably his description of those animalcula that are most easily met with, better known, and consequently more interesting to the generality of readers. 2 To these, six more are now added, making the whole three hundred and eighty three. EDIT. The construction of timber, and the disposition of its component parts, as seen by the microscope, is the subject of the next chapter; a subject confessedly obscure. With what degree of success this attempt has been prosecuted, must be left to the judgment of the reader. The best treatise on this part of vegetation is that of M. Du Hamel du Monceau sur la Physique des Arbres. If either my time or situation in life would have permitted it, I should have followed his plan; but being confined to business and to London, I can only recommend it to those lovers of the works of the Almighty, who live in the country, to pursue this important branch of natural history. There is no doubt but that new views of the operations in nature, and of the wisdom with which all things are contrived, would amply repay the labour of investigation. Every part of the vegetable kingdom is rich in microscopic beauties, from the stateliest tree of the forest, from the cedar of Lebanon, to the lowliest moss and the hyssop that springeth out of the wall; all conspiring to say how much is hid from the natural sight of man, how little can be known till it receives assistance, and is benefited by adventitious aid. From the wonderful organization of animals, and the curious texture of vegetables, we proceed to the mineral kingdom, and take a cursory view of the configuration of salts and saline substances, exhibiting a few specimens of the beautiful order in which they arrange themselves under the eye, after having been separated by dissolution; every species working as it were upon a different plan, and producing cubes, pyramids, hexagons, or some other figure peculiar to itself, with a constant regularity amidst boundless variety. Though all nature teems with objects for the microscopic observer, yet such is the indolence of the human mind, or such its inattention to what is obvious, that among the purchasers of microscopes many have complained that they knew not what subjects to apply to their instrument, or where to find objects for examination. To obviate this complaint, a catalogue is here given, which is interspersed with the description of a few insects, and other objects, which could not be conveniently introduced in the foregoing chapters. By this catalogue it is hoped that the use of the microscope will be extended, and the path of observation facilitated. To avoid the formal parade of quotation, and the fastidious charge of plagiarism, I have subjoined to this preface a list of the authors which have been consulted. As my extracts were made at very distant periods, it would have been impossible for me to recollect to whom I was indebted for every new fact or ingenious observation. The plates were drawn and engraved with a view to be folded up with the work; but as it is the opinion of many of my friends that they would, by this mean, be materially injured, I have been advised to have them stitched in strong blue paper, and leave it to the purchaser to dispose of them to his own mind. A LIST OF THE AUTHORS WHICH HAVE BEEN CONSULTED IN THE COMPILATION OF THE FORMER AND PRESENT EDITION OF THESE ESSAYS. ADAMS. Micrographia Illustrata, or the Microscope Explained. London, 1746 and 1781. ADDISON. Spectator. BAKER. An Attempt towards the Natural History of the Polype. London, 1743. BAKER. The Microscope made Easy. London, 1744. BAKER. Employment for the Microscope. London, 1753. BARBUT. Genera Insectorum of Linnus. 4to. London, 1781. BERKENHOUT. Botanical Lexicon. 8vo. London, 1764. BERKENHOUT. Synopsis of Natural History. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1789. BIRCH. History of the Royal Society. 4to. 4 vols. London, 1756. BLAIR. Sermons. London, 1792. BONNANI. Observationes circa Viventia, qu in Rebus non Viventibus reperiuntur, c. 4to. 1691. BONNET. Oeuvres dHistoire Naturelle et de Philosophie. 9 tom. 4to. Neufchatel, 1779. BORELLUS. De vero Telescopii Inventore. BRAND. Select Dissertations from the Amnitates Academic, c. 8vo. London, 1781. CURTIS. Instructions for Collecting and Preserving Insects. 8vo. London, 1771. CURTIS. Translation of the Fundamenta Entomologi. 8vo. London, 1772. CURTIS. Flora Londinensis. Folio. London, 1777, c. CURTIS. Botanical Magazine. 8vo. London, 1787, c. CYCLOPDIA. By Dr. Rees. 4 vols. Folio. London, 1786. DE GEER. Memoires pour servir a lHistoire des Insectes. 4to. 7 tom. 1752. DELLEBARRE. Memoires sur les Differences de la Construction et des Effects du Microscope. 1777. DERHAM. PhysicoTheology. 8vo. London, 1732. DONOVAN. History of British Insects. 8vo. London, 1792, c. DONOVAN. Treatise on the Management of Insects. 8vo. London, 1794. DU HAMEL DU MONCEAU. La Physique des Arbres. Paris, 1757. ELLIS. Essay towards a Natural History of Corallines. 4to. 1755. ELLIS. Zoophytes, by Dr. Solander. 4to. London, 1786. ENCYCLOPDIA BRITANNICA. 4to. 18 vols. Edinburgh, 1797. EPINUS. Description des Nouveaux Microscopes. FABRICIUS. Philosophia Entomologica. 8vo. 1778. GEOFFROY. Histoire Abregee des Insectes. 2 tom. 4to. Paris, 1764. GLEICHEN. Les plus Nouvelles Deucouverts dans le Regne Vegetal, c. Folio. 1770. GOLDSMITH. History of the Earth and Animated Nature. 8vo. London, 1774. GREW. Anatomy of Plants. Folio. London, 1682. HALLER. Physiologia. HEDWIG. Theoria Generationis et Fructificationis de Plantarum Cryptogamicarum. Petersb. 1784. HILL. Review of the Royal Society. 4to. London, 1751. HILL. History of Animals. Folio. London, 1752. HILL. Essays in Natural History. 8vo. London, 1752. HILL. The Construction of Timber explained by the Microscope. 8vo. London, 1770. HILL. Inspector. HOME. Treatise on Ulcers, c. 8vo. London, 1797. HOOKE. Micrographia. Folio. London, 1665. HOOKE. Lectures and Collections. 4to. London, 1678. HOOPER. Economy of Plants. 8vo. Oxford, 1797. JOBLOT. Observations dHistoire Naturelle faites avec le Microscope. 4to. 2 tom. Paris. JOURNAL DE PHYSIQUE, PAR ROZIER, c. JONES. A Course of Lectures on the Figurative Language of the Holy Scriptures. 8vo. 1787. KIPPIS. Biographia Britannica. Folio. 1778, c. LEDERMULLER. Microscopische Ergtzungen. 4 theile. 4to. LEEUWENHOEK. Arcana Natur. 4to. Lugd. Bat. 1722. LEEUWENHOEK. Opera Omnia. 4to. Ibid. 1722. LETTSOM. Naturalists Companion. 8vo. London, 1774. LINNEAN SOCIETY. Transactions. 3 vols. 4to. London, 1791, c. LINNUS. Systema Natur. 8vo. edit. 12mo. Holmi, 1766. LYONET. Theologie des Insectes de Lesser. 2 tom. 8vo. La Haye, 1742. LYONET. Traite Anatomique de la Chenille qui ronge le Bois de Saule. 4to. MACQUER. Dictionary of Chemistry. London, 1777. MAGNY. Journal dEconomie. 1753. MALPIGHI. Opera. 4to. Lugduni Bat. 1687. MARTIN. Micrographia Nova. 4to. Reading, 1742. MARTIN. Optical Essays. 8vo. London. MULLER. Animalcula Infusoria Fluviatilia et Marina. 4to. Hauni, 1786. NICHOLSON. Introduction to Natural Philosophy. 2 vols. 8vo. 1787. NICHOLSON. Journal of Natural Philosophy, c. 1797. NEEDHAM. New Microscopical Discoveries. 8vo. London, 1745. NEUERE GESCHICHTE DER MISSIONS ANSTALTEN. 4to. Halle, 1796. PALLAS. Elenchus Zoophytorum. 8vo. Hag Comit. 1766. PARSONS. Microscopic Theatre of Seeds. 4to. London, 1745. POWER. Microscopical Observations. 4to. 1664. PRIESTLEY. On Light, Vision, and Colours. 4to. 1772. REAUMUR. Memoires pour servir a lHistoire des Insectes. 8vo. Amsterdam, 1737. REDI. De Insectis. 1671. REID. On the Intellectual Powers of Man. Nrnberg, 1746, c. ROSEL. Insecten Belustigung. 4 theile. 4to. ROYAL SOCIETY. Philosophical Transactions. RUTHERFORTH. Natural Philosophy. 2 vols. 4to. Cambridge, 1748. SCHIRACH. Histoire Naturelle de la Reine des Abeilles. A la Haye, 1771. SHAW. Naturalists Miscellany. 8vo. London, 1790, c. SMITH, R. Optics. 2 vols. 4to. Cambridge, 1738. SMITH, I. E. English Botany. 8vo. London, 1790, c. SPALANZANI. Opuscules de Physiques Animale et Vegetale. Geneva, 1777. STILLINGFLEET. Miscellaneous Tracts. 8vo. London, 1762. SWAMMERDAM. The Book of Nature, revised by Hill. Folio. London, 1758. SWEDENBORG. conomia Regni Animalis, cui accedit Introductio ad Psychologiam Rationalem. 4to. Amsterdam, 1743. SWEDENBORG. Regnum Animale, Anatomice, Physice et Philosophice Perlustratum. 4to. Hag Comit. 1744. TREMBLEY. Memoires pour servir a lHistoire des Polypes deau douce. Paris, 1744. VALMONT DE BOMARE. Dictionnaire Raisonne universal dHistoire Naturelle. Lyon, 1776. WALKER. A Collection of Minute and Rare Shells. 4to. London, 1784. YEATS. Institutions of Entomology. 8vo. Ibid. 1773. LONDON, Dec. 12, 1797. The Public are hereby respectfully informed, that the STOCK and COPYRIGHT of the following Works by the same AUTHOR, lately deceased, have been purchased by W. and S. JONES, Opticians, c. and that they are now to be had at their Shop in Holborn. I. GEOMETRICAL AND GRAPHICAL ESSAYS. This Work contains, 1. A select Set of Geometrical Problems, many of which are new, and not contained in any other Work. 2. The Description and Use of those Mathematical Instruments that are usually put into a Case of Drawing Instruments. Besides these, there are also described several New and Useful Instruments for Geometrical Purposes. 3. A complete and concise System of SURVEYING, with an Account of some very essential Improvements in that useful Art. To which is added, a Description of the most improved THEODOLITES, PLANE TABLES, and other Instruments used in Surveying; and most accurate Methods of adjusting them. 4. The Methods of LEVELLING, for the Purpose of conveying Water from one Place to another; with a Description of the most improved Spirit Level. 5. A Course of PRACTICAL MILITARY GEOMETRY, as taught at Woolwich. 6. A short Essay on Perspective. The Second Edition, corrected, and enlarged with the Descriptions of several Instruments unnoticed in the former Edition, by W. JONES, Math. Inst. Maker; illustrated by 35 Copperplates, in 2 vols. 8vo. Price 14s. in Boards. II. AN ESSAY ON ELECTRICITY, explaining clearly and fully the Principles of that useful Science, describing the various Instruments that have been contrived, either to illustrate the Theory, or render the Practice of it entertaining. To which is added, A LETTER to the AUTHOR, from Mr. JOHN BIRCH, Surgeon, on MEDICAL ELECTRICITY. Fourth Edition, 8vo. Price 6s. illustrated with six Plates. III. AN ESSAY ON VISION, briefly explaining the Fabric of the Eye, and the Nature of Vision; intended for the Service of those whose Eyes are weak and impaired, enabling them to form an accurate Idea of the State of their Sight, the Means of preserving it, together with proper Rules for ascertaining when Spectacles are necessary, and how to choose them without injuring the Sight. 8vo. Second Edition. Illustrated with Figures. Price 3s. in Boards. IV. ASTRONOMICAL AND GEOGRAPHICAL ESSAYS, containing, 1. A full and comprehensive View of the general Principles of Astronomy, with a large Account of the Discoveries of Dr. Herschel, c. 2. The Use of the Globes, exemplified in a greater Variety of Problems than are to be found in any other Work; arranged under distinct Heads, and interspersed with much curious but relative Information. 3. The Description and Use of Orreries and Planetaria, c. 4. An Introduction to Practical Astronomy, by a Set of easy and entertaining Problems. Third Edition, 8vo. Price 10s. 6d. in Boards, illustrated with sixteen Plates. V. AN INTRODUCTION TO PRACTICAL ASTRONOMY, or the Use of the Quadrant and Equatorial, being extracted from the preceding Work. Sewed, with two Plates, 2s. 6d. VI. AN APPENDIX to the GEOMETRICAL AND GRAPHICAL ESSAYS, containing the following Table by Mr. JOHN GALE, viz. a Table of the Northings, Southings, Eastings, and Westings to every Degree and fifteenth Minute of the Quadrant, Radius from 1 to 100, with all the intermediate Numbers, computed to the three Places of Decimals. Price 2s. In the Press, and speedily will be Published, LECTURES ON NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY, In Five Volumes 8vo. The Second Edition, with upwards of Forty large Plates, considerable Alterations and Improvements; containing more complete Explanations of the Instruments, Machines, c. and the Description of many others not inserted in the former Edition. BY W. JONES, MATHEMATICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL INSTRUMENT MAKER. ADVERTISEMENT. The editor esteems it his indispensable duty, to point out the several improvements which have been made in this work, in order to render it still more acceptable to the public. The whole has been carefully revisedmany typographical errors correctednumerous additions and emendations from the authors own copy incorporated, and some superfluities rejected. Wherever any ambiguity occurred, the editor has endeavoured to elucidate the passage, observing due caution not to misconceive the idea which the author meant to inculcate. A more regular arrangement has been attempted, and occasional notes subjoined: in these, and in other parts of the work, it has been the editors primary object to ascertain facts, not to decide peremptorily. Should he in any instance have erred, he can assure the candid critic, that he shall experience a most sensible pleasure in conviction. The principal additions are, Accounts of the latest improvements which have been made in the construction of microscopes, particularly the lucernal. A description of the glass, pearl, c. micrometers, as made by Mr. Coventry, and others. An arrangement and description of minute and rare shells. A descriptive list of a variety of vegetable seeds. Instructions for collecting and preserving insects, together with directions for forming a cabinet. A copious list of objects for the microscope. A list of Mr. Custances fine vegetable cuttings. With respect to the plates, three new engravings are introduced, viz. PLATE IV. Exhibiting the most improved compound microscopes, with their apparatus. PLATE XIV. Microscopical figures of minute and rare shells. PLATE XV. Microscopical figures of a variety of vegetable seeds. Many additional figures have been inserted in other plates, and a number of errors in the references corrected. A complete list of the plates and a more extensive index are also added. It has been generally understood, that the author intended to have published this edition in octavo; but, the impropriety of adopting that mode must appear evident, for the very reason assigned by the author himself in the concluding part of his preface. If the plates are liable to sustain damage by folding them into a quarto, they would have been subjected to far greater injury by being doubled into an octavo size, besides, being extremely incommodious for reference. As the work now appears, the purchaser may either retain the plates in the separate volume, or, without much inconvenience, if properly guarded, have them bound with the letter press. It affords the editor a pleasing satisfaction to mention, that notwithstanding the additional heavy expense incurred in the article of paper, c. yet, by somewhat enlarging the page, and other economical regulations in the mode of printing, this edition is offered to the public at a trifling advance on the original price, though the improvements now made occupy considerably more than onehundred pages. Anxious, lest the reputation which the work has already acquired, should be diminished by any deficiency on his part, the editor has sedulously applied himself to render it extensively useful to the serious admirer of the wonders of the creation; whether he has succeeded, is now submitted to the decision of the intelligent part of the public. He shall only add, that conscious of the purity of his intentions, and convinced of the instability of all terrestrial attainments, he trusts that he is equally secured from the weakness of being elevated by success, or depressed by disappointment. Apothecaries Hall, London, Jan. 1, 1798. CONTENTS. CHAP. I. A concise History of the Invention and Improvements which have been made upon the Instrument called a Microscope. p. 1. CHAP. II. Of Vision; of the optical Effects of Microscopes, and of the Manner of estimating their magnifying Powers. p. 26. CHAP. III. A Description of the most improved Microscopes, and the Method of using them. p. 64. CHAP. IV. General Instructions for using the Microscope, and preparing the Objects. p. 129. CHAP. V. The Importance of Natural History; of Insects in general, and of their constituent Parts. p. 167. CHAP. VI. A general View of the internal Parts of Insects, and more particularly of the Caterpillar of the Phalna Cossus. A Description of sundry miscellaneous Objects. p. 334. CHAP. VII. The Natural History of the Hydra, or Fresh Water Polype. p. 357. CHAP. VIII. Of the Animalcula Infusoria. p. 415. CHAP. IX. On the Organization or Construction of Timber, as viewed by the Microscope. p. 574. CHAP. X. Of the Crystallization of Salts, as seen by the Microscope; together with a concise List of Objects. p. 600. CHAP. XI. An Arrangement and Description of minute and rare Shells. A descriptive List of a Variety of vegetable Seeds, as they appear when viewed by the Microscope. By the Editor. p. 629. CHAP. XII. Instructions for collecting and preserving Insects. A copious List of microscopic Objects. By the Editor. p. 665. ADDITIONS. p. 713. ERRATA. Page 16, line 22, for lead read led Page 20, line 6, for Fig. T read Fig. 1 Page 49, last line, for usefully read successfully Page 62, last but one, for stop read stage Page 80, line 22, after microscope add by Page 88, three lines from bottom, for improvent read improvement Page 95, line 2, for R read K Page 111, two lines from bottom, for VK read VX Page 115, line 12, for g read q Page 125, note, for Fig. 13 read Fig. 13 Page 145, line 17, for cast of read castoff Page 153, line 21, for unkown read unknown Page 169, eight lines from bottom, for is read are Page 188, note line 9, for preventatives read preventives Page 195, line 7, for exagon read hexagon Page 238, line 16, for scarc read scarce Page 319, line 19, for rise read raise Page 346, line 18, for bread read bred Page 354, three lines from bottom, for Fig. 1 and 2 read Fig. 1 and 3 Page 445, line 18, for immediate read intermediate LIST OF THE PLATES, WITH REFERENCES TO THE PAGES WHERE THE SEVERAL FIGURES ARE DESCRIBED. Plate Page I. Various diagrams illustrative of vision and the optical effect of microscopes 29 II. A. Ibid.Needle micrometer, 54.Coventrys pearl, c. micrometers 59 B. Fig. 1. Wilsons microscope and apparatus, 115.Fig. 2. Ditto with a scroll 117 Fig. 3, 4. Small opake microscope and apparatus 118 III. Fig. 1, 2, and 4. Adamss lucernal microscope and apparatus 64 Fig. 3. Argands patent lamp 69 IV. Fig. 1. Joness improved compound microscope and apparatus 92 Fig. 2. Joness most improved ditto, ditto 99 Fig. 3. Culpepers threepillared microscope and apparatus 104 V. Martins improved solar opake and transparent microscope 106 VI. Fig. I. Witherings botanical microscope, 123.Fig. 2. Pocket botanical and universal microscope 124 Fig. 3. Lyonets anatomical microscope 122 Fig. 4. Transparent solar microscope and apparatus 113 Fig. 5. Tooth and pinion microscope ibid. Fig. 14. Common flower and insect microscope note 125 VII. A. Cuffs double constructed microscope and apparatus 89 B. Elliss aquatic microscope 119 VIII. Fig. 16. Portable microscope and telescope with apparatus 125 Fig. 7, 8. Botanical magnifiers ibid. IX. Fig. 1, 2. Engine for cutting sections of wood, and appendage 127 Fig. 3, 4. Joness improved lucernal microscope and apparatus 80 Fig. 5, 7. The Rev. Dr. Princes and Mr. Hills improvements on the illuminating lenses and lamp of the lucernal microscope 84 Fig. 6. Lanthorn microscope and screen 88 X. Fig. 1, 2. Nest of the phalna neustria.Fig. 3, 4. Vertical section of ditto. Fig. 5, 6. Horizontal section 287 Fig. 7, 8. Scales of the parrot fish, 355.Fig. 9, 10. Scales of sea perch 356 XI. Fig. 1, 2, 3. Larva of the musca chamleon 248 Fig. 4, 5. Eels in blighted wheat 469 Fig. 6, 8, 9, 10, 11. Paste eel 462 Fig. 7. Vinegar eel 461 XII. Fig. 1, 2, 3, 4. Dissection of the caterpillar of the phalna cossus 336 Fig. 5, 6, 7. Dissection of the head of the caterpillar 337 XIII. Fig. 1, 2. Beard of the lepas anatifera 344 Fig. 3, 4. Collector of the bee 182 XIV. Fig. 1, 2. Wing of the forficula auricularia 143 and 205 Fig. 2 to 47. Magnified figures of minute and rare shells 629 XV. Fig. 1, 2. Wing of the hemerobius perla 206 Fig. 1 to 46. Microscopic views of a variety of vegetable seeds 645 XVI. Fig. 1, 2, and B, C, D, E. Proboscis of the tabanus 188 Fig. 3, 4. Cornea of the libellula 197 Fig. 5, 6. Cornea of the lobster ibid. Fig. 7, 8, E, F, H, I. Feathers of the wings of the sphinx stellatarum 208 and 627 XVII. Fig. 1, 2, 3. Leucopsis dorsigera 347 XVIII. Fig. 1 and 6. The lobster insect 348 Fig. 2 and 7. Skin of the lumpsucker 352 Fig. 3, 4, 5. Thrips physapus 350 XIX. Fig. 14. Feet of the monoculus apus 354 Fig. 5 and 6. Skin of the sole fish.Fig. 7, 8. Scale of the haddock.Fig. 9, 10. Scale of West Indian perch.Fig. 11, 12. Scale of sole fish 356 XX. Fig. 1 and A. Cimex striatus, 352.Fig. 2 and B. Chrysomela asparagi 353 Fig. 3 and C. Meloe monoceros 354 XXI. Fig. 124. Various hydr and vorticell 364 XXII. Fig. 2640. Ditto 392 XXIII. A. Fig. 113. Various hydr, 365. B. Fig. 1429. Ditto 382 XXIV. A. Fig. 110. and B. Fig. 1124. Ditto 376 XXV. Fig. 168. A variety of animalcula infusoria 431 XXVI. Fig. 123. Ditto 548 XXVII. Fig. 166. Ditto 519 XXVIII. Fig. 1, 2. Transverse section of chenopodium 599 Fig. 3, 4. Transverse section of a reed from Portugal ibid. XXIX. Fig. 1, 2. Transverse section of altha frutex ibid. Fig. 3, 4. Transverse section of hazel ibid. Fig. 5, 6. Transverse section branch of lime tree ibid. XXX. Fig. 1, 2. Transverse section of sugarcane. ibid. Fig. 3, 4. Transverse section of bamboo cane ibid. Fig. 5, 6. Transverse section of common cane ibid. XXXI. Fig. 1, 2. Crystals of nitre 606 Fig. 3, 4. Distilled verdigrise ibid. XXXII. Fig. 1. Microscopical crystals of salt of wormwood 607 Fig. 2. Microscopical crystals of salt of amber ibid. Fig. 3. Microscopical crystals of salt of hartshorn ibid. Fig. 4. Microscopical crystals of salt of sal ammoniac ibid. N. B. The reader will find no references to the several letters which appear in the bodies of these figures, for reasons assigned by the author as above; in order not to deface the plate, they were suffered to remain. ESSAYS ON THE MICROSCOPE. CHAP. I. A CONCISE HISTORY OF THE INVENTION AND IMPROVEMENTS WHICH HAVE BEEN MADE UPON THE INSTRUMENT CALLED A MICROSCOPE. It is generally supposed that microscopes3 were invented about the year 1580, a period fruitful in discoveries; a time when the mind began to emancipate itself from those errors and prejudices by which it had been too long enslaved, to assert its rights, extend its powers, and follow the paths which lead to truth. The honor of the invention is claimed by the Italians and the Dutch; the name of the inventor, however, is lost; probably the discovery did not at first appear sufficiently important, to engage the attention of those men, who, by their reputation in science, were able to establish an opinion of its merit with the rest of the world, and hand down the name of the inventor to succeeding ages. Men of great literary abilities are too apt to despise the first dawnings of invention, not considering that all real knowledge is progressive, and that what they deem trifling, may be the first and necessary link to a new branch of science. 3 The term microscope is derived from the Greek  little, and  to view; it is a dioptric instrument, by means of which objects invisible to the naked eye, or very minute, are by the assistance of lenses, or mirrors, represented exceeding large and very distinct. EDIT. The microscope extends the boundaries of the organs of vision; enables us to examine the structure of plants and animals; presents to the eye myriads of beings, of whose existence we had before formed no idea; opens to the curious an exhaustless source of information and pleasure; and furnishes the philosopher with an unlimited field of investigation. It leads, to use the words of an ingenious writer, to the discovery of a thousand wonders in the works of his hand, who created ourselves, as well as the objects of our admiration; it improves the faculties, exalts the comprehension, and multiplies the inlets to happiness; is a new source of praise to him, to whom all we pay is nothing of what we owe; and, while it pleases the imagination with the unbounded treasures it offers to the view, it tends to make the whole life one continued act of admiration. It is not difficult to fix the period when the microscope first began to be generally known, and was used for the purpose of examining minute objects; for, though we are ignorant of the name of the first inventor, we are acquainted with the names of those who introduced it to the public, and engaged their attention to it, by exhibiting some of its wonderful effects. Zacharias Jansens and his son had made microscopes before the year 1619, for in that year the ingenious Cornelius Drebell brought one, which was made by them, with him into England, and shewed it to William Borel, and others. It is possible, this instrument of Drebells was not strictly what is now meant by a microscope, but was rather a kind of microscopic telescope,4 something similar in principle to that lately described by Mr. pinus, in a letter to the Academy of Sciences at Petersburgh. It was formed of a copper tube six feet long and one inch diameter, supported by three brass pillars in the shape of dolphins; these were fixed to a base of ebony, on which the objects to be viewed by the microscope were also placed. In contradiction to this, Fontana, in a work which he published in 1646, says, that he had made microscopes in the year 1618: this may be also very true, without derogating from the merit of the Jansens, for we have many instances in our own times of more than one person having executed the same contrivance, nearly at the same time, without any communication from one to the other.5 In 1685, Stelluti published a description of the parts of a bee, which he had examined with a microscope. 4 Vide Borellum de vero Telescopii Inventore. 5 In 1664 Dr. Power published his Experimental Philosophy, the first part of which consists of a variety of microscopical observations; and in the following year Dr. Hooke produced his Micrographia, illustrated with a number of elegant figures of the different objects. EDIT. If we consider the microscope as an instrument consisting of one lens only, it is not at all improbable that it was known to the ancients much sooner than the last century; nay, even in a degree to the Greeks and Romans: for it is certain, that spectacles were in use long before the abovementioned period: now, as the glasses of these were made of different convexities, and consequently of different magnifying powers, it is natural to suppose, that smaller and more convex lenses were made, and applied to the examination of minute objects. In this sense, there is also some ground for thinking the ancients were not ignorant of the use of lenses, or at least of what approached nearly to, and might in some instances be substituted for them. The two principal reasons which support this opinion are, first, the minuteness of some ancient pieces of workmanship, which are to be met with in the cabinets of the curious: the parts of some of these are so small, that it does not appear at present how they could have been executed without the use of magnifying glasses, or of what use they could have been when executed, unless they were in possession of glasses to examine them with. A remarkable piece of this kind, a seal with very minute work, and which to the naked eye appears very confused and indistinct, but beautiful when examined with a proper lense, is described Dans lHistoire de lAcademie des Inscriptions, tom. 1, p. 333. The second argument is founded on a great variety of passages, that are to be seen in the works of Jamblichus, Pliny, Plutarch, Seneca, Agellius, Pisidias, c. From these passages it is evident that they were enabled by some instrument, or other means, not only to view distant objects, but also to magnify small ones; for, if this is not admitted, the passages appear absurd, and not capable of having a rational meaning applied to them. I shall only adduce a short passage from Pisidias, a christian writer of the seventh century,       : You see things future by a dioptrum: now we know of nothing but a perspective glass or small telescope, whereby things at a distance may be seen as if they were near at hand, the circumstance on which the simile was founded. It is also clear, that they were acquainted with, and did make use of that kind of microscope, which is even at this day commonly sold in our streets by the Italian pedlars, namely, a glass bubble filled with water. Seneca plainly affirms it, Liter, quamvis minut et obscur, per vitream pilam aqua plenam majores clarioresque cernuntur. Nat. Qust. lib. 1, cap. 7. Letters, though minute and obscure, appear larger and clearer through a glass bubble filled with water. Those who wish to see further evidence concerning the knowledge of the ancients in optics, may consult Smiths Optics, Dr. Priestleys History of Light and Colours, the Appendix to an Essay on the first Principles of Natural Philosophy by the Rev. Mr. Jones, Dr. Rogerss Dissertation on the Knowledge of the Ancients, and the Rev. Mr. Dutenss Enquiry into the Origin of the Discoveries attributed to the Moderns.6 6 A new edition in French of this learned and valuable work, with many and useful notes, is just published. EDIT. The history of the microscope, like that of nations and arts, has had its brilliant periods, in which it has shone with uncommon splendor, and been cultivated with extraordinary ardour; these have been succeeded by intervals marked with no discovery, and in which the science seemed to fade away, or at least lie dormant, till some favourable circumstance, the discovery of a new object, or some new improvement in the instruments of observation, awakened the attention of the curious, and animated their researches. Thus, soon after the invention of the microscope, the field it presented to observation was cultivated by men of the first rank in science, who enriched almost every branch of natural history by the discoveries they made with this instrument: there is indeed scarce any object so inconsiderable, that has not something to invite the curious eye to examine it; nor is there any, which, when properly examined, will not amply repay the trouble of investigation. I shall first speak of the SINGLE MICROSCOPE, not only as it is the most simple, but because, as we have already observed, it was invented and used long before the double or compound microscope. When the lenses of the single microscope are very convex, and consequently the magnifying power very great, the field of view is so small, and it is so difficult to adjust with accuracy their focal distance, that it requires some practice to render the use thereof familiar; at the same time, the smallness of the aperture to these lenses has been found injurious to the eyes of some observers: notwithstanding, however, these defects, the great magnifying power, as well as the distinct vision which is obtained by the use of a deep single lens, more than counterbalances every difficulty and disadvantage. It was with this instrument that Leeuwenhoek and Swammerdam, Lyonet and Ellis examined the minima of nature, laid open some of her hidden recesses, and by their example stimulated others to the same pursuit. The construction of the single microscope is so simple, that it is susceptible of but little improvement, and has therefore undergone but few alterations; and these have been chiefly confined to the mode of mounting it, or the additions to its apparatus. The greatest improvement this instrument has received, was made by Dr. Lieberkhn, about the year 1740; it consisted in placing the small lens in the center of a highly polished concave speculum of silver, by which means he was enabled to reflect a strong light upon the upper surface of an object, and thus examine it with great ease and pleasure. Before this contrivance, it was almost impossible to examine small opake objects with any degree of exactness and satisfaction; for the dark side of the object being next the eye, and also overshadowed by the proximity of the instrument, its appearance was necessarily obscure and indistinct. Dr. Lieberkhn adapted a microscope to every object; it consisted of a short brass tube, at the eye end of which a concave silver speculum was fixed, and in the center of the speculum a magnifying lens: the object was placed in the middle of the tube, and had a small adjustment to regulate it to the focus; at the other end of the tube there was a plano convex lens, to condense and render more uniform the light which was reflected from the mirror. But all these pains were not bestowed upon trifling objects; his were generally the most curious anatomical preparations, a few of which, with their microscopes, are, I believe, deposited in the British Museum. It will be proper, in this place, to give some account of Mr. Leeuwenhoeks microscopes, which were rendered famous throughout all Europe, on account of the numerous discoveries he had made with them, as well as from his afterwards bequeathing a part of them to the Royal Society. The microscopes he used were all single, and fitted up in a convenient simple manner; each of them consisted of a very small double convex lens, let into a socket between two plates rivetted together, and pierced with a small hole; the object was placed on a silver point or needle, which, by means of screws adapted for that purpose, might be turned about, raised or depressed at pleasure, and thus be brought nearer to, or be removed farther from the glass, as the eye of the observer, the nature of the object, and the convenient examination of its parts required. Mr. Leeuwenhoek fixed his objects, if they were solid, to the foregoing point with glue; if they were fluid, he fitted them on a little plate of talc, or exceeding thin blown glass, which he afterwards glued to the needle, in the same manner as his other objects. The glasses were all exceeding clear, and of different magnifying powers, which were proportioned to the nature of the object, and the parts designed to be examined. But none of those, which were presented to the Royal Society, magnify so much as the glass globules, which have been used in other microscopes. He had observed, in a letter of his to the Royal Society, that from upwards of forty years experience, he found that the most considerable discoveries were to be made with such glasses, as magnifying but moderately, exhibited the object with the most perfect brightness and distinctness. Each instrument was devoted to one or two objects: hence he had always some hundreds by him.7 There is some reason for supposing, that Leeuwenhoek was acquainted with a mode of viewing opake objects, similar to that invented by Dr. Lieberkhn.8 7 Philosophical Transactions, No. 980, No. 458. 8 Priestleys History of Optics, p. 220. About the year 1665, small glass globules began to be occasionally applied to the single microscope, instead of convex lenses. By these globules, an immense magnifying power is obtained. The invention of them has been generally attributed to M. Hartsoeker; it appears, however, to me, that we are indebted to the celebrated Dr. Hooke for this discovery; for he described the manner of making them in the preface to his Micrographia, which was published in the year 1665. Now the first account we have of any microscopical discovery by M. Hartsoeker, was that of the spermatic animalcul, made by him when he was eighteen years old; which brings us down to the year 1674, long after Dr. Hookes publication. As these glass globules have been very useful in the hands of experienced observers, I shall lay before my readers the different modes which have been described for making them, that the reader may be enabled thereby to ascertain the reality of the discoveries that have been said to be made with them. Take a small rod9 of the clearest and cleanest glass you can procure, free, if possible from blebs, veins, or sandy particles; then by melting it in a lamp with spirit of wine, or the purest and clearest sallad oil, draw it out into exceeding fine and small threads; take a small piece of these threads, and melt the end thereof in the same flame, till you perceive it run into a small drop, or globule, of the desired size; let this globule cool, then fix it upon a thin plate of brass or silver, so that the middle of it may be directly over the center of a very small hole made in this plate, turning it till it is fixed by the beforementioned thread of glass. When the plate is properly fixed to your microscope, and the object adjusted to the focal distance of the globule, you will perceive the object distinctly and immensely magnified. By these means, says Dr. Hooke, I have been able to distinguish the particles of bodies not only a million times smaller than a visible point, but even to make those visible whereof a million of millions would hardly make up the bulk of the smallest visible grain of sand; so prodigiously do these exceeding small globules enlarge our prospect into the more hidden recesses of nature. 9 Lectures and Collections by Dr. Hooke. Mr. Butterfield, in making of the globules, used a lamp with spirit of wine; but instead of a cotton wick, he used fine silver wire, doubled up and down like a skain of thread.10 He prepared his glass by beating it to powder, and washing it very clean; he then took a little of this glass upon the sharp point of a silver needle, wetted with spittle, and held it in the flame, turning it about till a glass ball was formed; then taking it from the flame, he afterwards cleaned it with soft leather, and set it in a brass cell. 10 Philos. Trans. No. 141. No person has carried the use of these globules so far as Father Di Torre, of Naples, nor been so dexterous in the execution of them; and if others have not been able to follow him in the same line, it may be fairly attributed to a want of that delicacy of touch for adjusting the objects to their focus, and that acuteness of vision which can only be acquired by long practice. Di Torre has also described, more minutely than any other author, the mode of executing these globules, which, as it throws much light upon the preceding description by Dr. Hooke, will not, it is presumed, be unacceptable to the reader. Three things are necessary for forming of these globules: 1. A lamp and bellows, such as are used by the glassblowers. 2. A piece of perfect tripoli. 3. A variety of small glass rods. When the flame of the lamp is blown in an horizontal direction, it will be found to consist of two parts; from the base to about two thirds of its length, it is of a white colour; beyond this, it is transparent and colourless. It is this transparent part which is to be used for melting the glass, because by this it will not be in the least sullied; but it will be immediately soiled, if it touch the white part of the flame. The part of the glass which is presented to the flame, ought to be exceeding clean, and great care should be taken that it be not touched by the fingers. If the glass rod has contracted any spots, it must either be thrown away, or the parts that are spotted must be cut off. The piece of tripoli which is to be used in forming the globules, should be flat on one side, and so large that it may be handled conveniently, and protect the fingers from the flame. A piece four or five inches long, and three or four inches thick, will answer very well. The best tripoli for this purpose is of a white colour, with a fine grain, heavy and compact, and which, after it has been calcined, is of a red colour. This kind resists the fire best, is not apt to break when calcined, and the melted glass does not adhere to it. To calcine this tripoli, cover it well all round with charcoal nearly red hot, leaving it thus till the charcoal is quite cold; it may then be taken out. Let several hemispherical cavities be made on the flat side of the tripoli; they should be of different sizes, nicely polished, and neatly rounded at the edges, in order to facilitate the entrance of the flame. The large globules are to be placed in the large cavities, and the minuter ones, in the small cavities. The holes in the tripoli must never be touched with the finger. If it be necessary to clean them, it should be done with white paper; the larger globules may be cleaned with wash leather. The glass rods should be of various sizes, as of th, th, th of an inch in diameter, as clean and free from specks and bubbles as possible. TO MAKE SMALL GLASS MICROSCOPIC GLOBULES. Take two rods of glass, one in each hand, place their extremities close to each other, and in the purest part of the flame; when you perceive the ends to be fused, separate them from each other; the heated glass following each rod, will be finer, in proportion to the length it is drawn to, and the smallness of the rod; in this manner you may procure threads of glass of any degree of fineness. Direct the flame to the middle of the thread, and it will be instantly divided into two parts. When one of the threads is perfectly cool, place it at the extremity of the flame, by which it will be rendered round; and, if the thread of glass be very fine, an exceeding small globule will be formed. This thread may now be broke off from the rod, and a new one may be again drawn out as before, by the assistance of the other glass rod. The small ball is now to be separated from the thread of glass; this is easily effected by the sharp edge of a piece of flint. The ball should be placed in a groove of paper, and another piece of paper be held over it, to prevent the ball from flying about and being lost. A quantity of globules ought to be prepared in this manner; they are then to be cleaned, and afterwards placed in the cavities of the tripoli, by means of a delicate pair of nippers. The globules are now to be melted a second time, in order to render them completely spherical; for this purpose, bring one of the cavities near the extremity of the flame, directing this towards the tripoli, which must be first heated; the cavity is then to be lowered, so that the flame may touch the glass, which, when it is red hot, will assume a perfect globular form; it must then be removed from the flame, and laid by; when cold, it should be cleaned, by rubbing between two pieces of white paper. Let it now be set in a brass cap, to try whether the figure be perfect. If the object be not well defined, the globule must be thrown away. Though, if it be large, it may be exposed two or three times to the flame. When a large globule is forming, it should be gently agitated by shaking the tripoli, which will prevent its becoming flat on one side. By attending to these directions, the greater part of the globules will be round and fit for use. In damp weather, notwithstanding every precaution, it will often happen, that out of forty globules, four or five only will be fit for use. Mr. Stephen Gray, of the CharterHouse, having observed some irregular particles within a glass globule, and finding that they appeared distinct and prodigiously magnified when held close to his eye, concluded, that if he placed a globule of water, in which there were any particles more opake than the water, near his eye, he should see those particles distinctly and highly magnified. This idea, when realized, far exceeded his expectation. His method was, to take on a pin a small portion of water which he knew had in it some minute animalcul; this he laid on the end of a small piece of brass wire, till there was formed somewhat more than an hemisphere of water; on applying it then to the eye, he found the animalcul most enormously magnified; for those which were scarce discernible with his glass globules, with this appeared as large as ordinary sized peas. They cannot be seen in daytime, except the room be darkened, but are seen to the greatest advantage by candlelight. Montucla observes, that when any objects are inclosed within this transparent globule, the hinder part of it acts like a concave mirror, provided they be situated between that surface and the focus; and that by these means they are magnified three times and an half more than they would be in the usual way. An extempore microscope may be formed, by taking up a small drop of water on the point of a pin, and placing it over a fine hole made in a piece of metal; but as the refractive power of water is less than that of glass, these globules do not magnify so much as those of the same size which are made of glass: this was also contrived by Mr. Gray. The same ingenious author invented another water microscope, consisting of two drops of water, separated in part by a thin brass plate, but touching near the center; which were thus rendered equivalent to a double convex lens of unequal convexities. Dr. Hooke describes a method of using the single microscope, which seems to have a great analogy to the foregoing methods of Mr. Gray. If you are desirous, says he, of obtaining a microscope with one single refraction, and consequently capable of procuring the greatest clearness and brightness any one kind of microscope is susceptible of; spread a little of the fluid you intend to examine, on a glass plate, bring this under one of your microscopic globules, then move it gently upwards, till the fluid touch the globule, to which it will soon adhere, and that so firmly, as to bear being moved a little backwards or forwards. By looking through the globule, you will then have a perfect view of the animalcul in the drop.11 11 Hookes Lectures and Conjectures, p. 98. Having laid before the reader the principal improvements that have been suggested, or made in the single microscope, it remains only to point out those instruments of this kind, which, from the mode in which they are fitted up, seem best adapted for general use; the peculiar advantages of which, as well as the manner of using them, will be described in the third chapter of this work. Fig. 1. Plate VI. A botanical microscope, contrived by Dr. Withering. Fig. 2. Plate VI. A botanical microscope, by Mr. B. Martin, being the most universal pocket microscope. Fig. 3. Plate VI, represents that which was used by M. Lyonnet for dissecting the cossus. Fig. 5. Plate VI. The tooth and pinion microscope, which is now generally substituted in the room of Wilsons. Fig. 1. Plate II. B. Fig. 1. Plate VII. B. The aquatic microscope used by Mr. Ellis for investigating the nature of coralline, and recommended to botanists by Mr. Curtis, in his valuable publication, the Flora Londinensis. Fig. 7. Plate VIII. A botanical magnifier, or hand megalascope, which by the different combinations of its three lenses produces seven different magnifying powers; when the three are used together, they are turned in, and the object viewed through the apertures in the sides. Fig. 8. Plate VIII. A botanical magnifier, having one large lens and two small ones, but not admitting of more than three powers. A COMPOUND MICROSCOPE, as it consists of two, three, or more glasses, is more easily varied, and is susceptible of greater changes in its construction, than the single microscope. The number of the lenses, of which it is formed, may be increased or diminished, their respective positions may be varied, and the form in which they are mounted be altered almost ad infinitum. But among these varieties, some will be found more deserving of attention than others; we shall here treat of these only. The three first compound microscopes deserving of notice, are those of Dr. Hooke, Eustachio Divinis, and Philip Bonnani. Dr. Hooke gives an account of his in the preface to his Micrographia, which has been already cited; it was about three inches in diameter, seven long, and furnished with four drawout tubes, by which it might be lengthened as occasion required: it had three glassesa small object glass, a middle glass, and a deep eye glass. Dr. Hooke used all the glasses when he wanted to take in a considerable part of an object at once, as by the middle glass a number of radiating pencils were conveyed to the eye, which would otherwise have been lost: but when he wanted to examine with accuracy the small parts of any substance, he took out the middle glass, and only made use of the eye and object lenses; for the fewer the refractions are, the clearer and more bright the object appears. An account of Eustachio Diviniss microscope was read at the Royal Society, in 1668.12 It consisted of an object lens, a middle glass, and two eye glasses, which were plano convex lenses, and were placed so that they touched each other in the center of their convex surfaces; by which means the glass takes in more of an object, the field is larger, the extremities of it less curved, and the magnifying power greater. The tube, in which the glasses were inclosed, was as large as a mans leg, and the eye glasses as broad as the palm of the hand. It had four several lengths; when shut up, it was sixteen inches long, and magnified the diameter of an object fortyone times; at the second length, ninety times; at the third length, one hundred and eleven times; at the fourth length, one hundred and fortythree times. It does not appear that E. Divinis varied the object lenses. 12 Philos. Trans. No. 42. Philip Bonnani published an account of his two microscopes in 1698;13 both were compound; the first was similar to that which Mr. Martin published as new, in his Micrographia Nova,14 in 1742. His second was like the former, composed of three glasses, one for the eye, a middle glass, and an object lens; they were mounted in a cylindrical tube, which was placed in an horizontal position; behind the stage was a small tube, with a convex lens at each end; beyond this was a lamp; the whole capable of various adjustments, and regulated by a pinion and rack; the small tube was used to condense the light on the object, and spread it uniformly over it according to its nature, and the magnifying power that was used. 13 Bonnani Observationes circa Viventia. 14 Micrographia Nova, by B. Martin, 4to. If the reader attentively consider the construction of the foregoing microscopes, and compare them with more modern ones, he will be led to think with me, that the compound microscope has received very little improvement since the time of Bonnani. Taken separately, the foregoing constructions are equal to some of the most famed modern microscopes. If their advantages be combined, they are far superior to that of M. Dellebarre, notwithstanding the pompous eulogium affixed thereto by Mess. De LAcademie Royale des Sciences.15 15 Memoires sur les Differences de la Construction et des Effets du Microscope, de M. L. F. Dellebarre, 1777. From this period, to the year 1736, the microscope appears not to have received any considerable alteration, but the science itself to have been at a stand. The improvements which were making in the reflecting telescope, naturally led those who had considered the subject, to expect a similar advantage would accrue to microscopes on the same principles: accordingly we find two plans of this kind; the first was that of Dr. Robert Barker. This instrument is entirely the same as the reflecting telescope, excepting the distance of the two speculums, which is lengthened, in order to adapt it to those pencils of rays which enter the telescope diverging; whereas, from very distant objects, they come in a direction nearly parallel. But this was soon laid aside, not only as it was more difficult to manage, but also because it was unfit for any but very small or transparent objects: for the object being between the speculum and the image, would, if it were large and opake, prevent a due reflection of light on the object. The second was contrived by Dr. Smith.16 In this there were two reflecting mirrors, one concave and the other convex; the image was viewed by a lens. This microscope, though far from being executed in the best manner, performed, says Dr. Smith, very well, so that he did not doubt but that it would have excelled others, if it had been properly finished. 16 Dr. Smiths Optics, Remarks, p. 94. As some years are more favourable to the fruits of the earth, so also some periods are more favourable to particular sciences, being rich in discovery, and cultivated with ardor. Thus, in the year 1738, Dr. Lieberkhns invention of the solar microscope was communicated to the public: the vast magnifying power which was obtained by this instrument, the colossal grandeur with which it exhibited the minima of nature, the pleasure which arose from being able to display the same object to a number of observers at the same time, by affording a new source of rational amusement, increased the number of microscopic observers, who were further stimulated to the same pursuits by Mr. Trembleys famous discovery of the polype: the wonderful properties of this little animal, together with the works of Mr. Trembley, Baker, and my father, revived the reputation of this instrument.17 17 Trembley Memoires sur les Polypes. Bakers Microscope made Easy; Attempt towards an History of the Polype; Employment for the Microscope. Adamss Micrographia Illustrata. Joblots Observations dHistoire Naturelle. Every optician now exercised his talents in improving, as he called it, the microscope; in other words, in varying its construction, and rendering it different from that sold by his neighbour. Their principal object seemed to be, only to subdivide the instrument, and make it lie in as small a compass as possible; by which means, they not only rendered it complex and troublesome in use, but lost sight also of the extensive field, great light, and other excellent properties of the more ancient instruments; and, in some measure, shut themselves out from further improvements on the microscope. Every mechanical instrument is susceptible of almost infinite combinations and changes, which are attended with their relative advantages and disadvantages: thus, what is gained in power, is lost in time; he that loves to be confined to a small house, must lose the benefit of air and exercise. The microscope, nearly at the same period, gave rise to M. Buffons famous system of organic molecules, and M. Needhams incomprehensible ideas concerning a vegetable force and the vitality of matter. M. Buffon has dressed up his system with all the charms of eloquence, presenting it to the mind in the most agreeable and lively colours, exerting the depths of erudition in the most interesting and seducing manner to establish his hypothesis, making us almost ready to adopt it against the dictates of reason, and the evidence of facts. But whether this great man was misled by the warmth of his imagination, his attachment to a favourite system, or the use of imperfect instruments, it appears but too evident, that he was not acquainted with the objects whose nature he attempted to investigate; and it is probable, that he never saw18 those which he supposed he was describing, continually confounding the animalcul produced from the putrifying decomposition of animal substances, with the spermatic animalcul, although they are two kinds of beings, differing in form and nature; so that the beautiful fabric attempted to be raised on his hypothesis, vanishes before the light of truth and well conducted experiments. 18 Porro Buffonius, ut cum illustris viri venia dicam, omnino non videtur vermiculos seminales vidisse. Diuturnitas enim vit quam suis corpusculis tribuit, ostendit non esse nostra animalcula (id est, spermatica) quibus brevis et paucarum horarum vita est. Haller Physiol. tom. 7. After this period, the mind, either satisfied with the discoveries already made, which will be particularly described hereafter, or tired by its own exertions, sought for repose in other pursuits; so that for several years this instrument was again, in some measure, laid aside. In 1770, Dr. Hill19 published a treatise, in which he endeavoured to explain the construction of timber by the microscope, and shew the number, the nature, and office of its several parts, their various arrangements and proportions in the different kinds; and point out a way of judging, from the structure of trees, the uses they will best serve in the affairs of life. So important a subject soon revived the ardor for microscopic pursuits, which seems to have been increasing ever since. About the same time, my father contrived an instrument for cutting the transverse sections of wood, in order that the texture thereof might be rendered more visible in the microscope, and consequently be better understood; this instrument was afterwards improved by Mr. Cumming. Another instrument for the same purpose, more certain in its effects, and more easily managed, is represented in Fig. 1. Plate IX; and will be described in one of the following chapters. Dr. Hill and Mr. Custance now endeavoured to bring back the microscope nearer to the old standard, to increase the field by the multiplication of the eye glasses, and to augment the light on the object, by condensing lenses; and in this they happily succeeded: Mr. Custance was unrivalled in his dexterity in preparing, and accuracy in cutting thin transverse sections of wood. 19 Dr. Hill on the Construction of Timber. In 1771, my father published a fourth edition of his Micrographia, in which he described the principal inventions then in use; particularly a contrivance of his own, for applying the solar microscope to the camera obscura, and illuminating it at night by a lamp, by which means a picture of microscopic objects might be exhibited in winter evenings. It appears20 from the testimony of M. pinus, that Dr. Lieberkhn had considerably improved the solar microscope, by adapting it to view opake objects. This contrivance was by some means lost. The knowledge, however, that such an effect had been produced, led pinus to attend to the subject himself, in which he in some measure succeeded, and would, no doubt, have brought it to perfection, if he had increased the size of his illuminating mirror. Some further improvements were made on this instrument by M. Ziehr; but the most perfect instrument of the kind, is that of Mr. B. Martin, who published an account of it in the year 1774.21 The common solar microscope does not shew the surface of any object, whereas the opake solar microscope not only magnifies the object, but exhibits on a screen an expanded picture of its surface, with all its colours, in a most beautiful manner. 20 Priestleys Hist. of Optics, p. 743. 21 Martins Description and Use of an Opake Solar Microscope. The merits and ingenuity in constructing and improving microscopes by this learned optician, seem to be unnoticed by our late author. The following pamphlets by Mr. B. Martin are, among others of his valuable publications, instances of his indefatigable industry. Description and Use of a Pocket Reflecting Microscope, with a Micrometer; 1739. Micrographia Nova, or a New Treatise on the Microscope; 1742. Description of a New Universal Microscope; a Postscript to his New Elements of Optics; 1759. Description of several Sorts of Microscopes, and the Use of the Reflecting Telescope, as an universal Perspective for viewing every Sort of Objects. Optical Essays; 1770. A Description and Use of a Proportional Camera Obscura, with a Solar Microscope adapted thereto, annexed to his Description of the Opake Solar Microscope abovementioned. Description of a New Universal Microscope; 1776. Description and Use of a Graphical Perspective and Microscope; 1771. Microscopium Polydynamicum, or a New Construction of a Microscope; 1771. An Essay on the genuine Construction of a standard Microscope and Telescope; 1776. Microscopium Pantometricum, or a new Construction of a Micrometer adapted to the Microscope. The most essential articles in the above works will be hereafter described. EDIT. About the year 1774, I invented the improved lucernal microscope; this instrument does not in the least fatigue the eye: it shews all opake objects in a most beautiful manner; and transparent objects may be examined by it in various ways, so that no part of an object is left unexplored; and the outlines of all may be taken with ease, even by those who are most unskilled in drawing. M. L. F. Dellebarre published an account of his microscope in the year 1777. It does not appear from this, that it was superior in any respect to those that were made in England, but was inferior in others; for those published by my father in 1771 possessed all the advantages of Dellebarres in a higher degree, except that of changing the eye glasses. In 1784, M. pinus published a description of what he termed newinvented microscopes, in a letter to the Academy of Sciences at Petersburgh;22 they are nothing more than an application of the achromatic perspective to microscopic purposes. Now it has been long known to every one who is the least versed in optics, that any telescope is easily converted into a microscope, by removing the object glass to a greater distance from the eye glasses; and that the distance of the image varies with the distance of the object from the focus, and is magnified more as its distance from the object is greater: the same telescope may, therefore be successively turned into a microscope, with different magnifying powers. Mr. Martin had also shewn, in his description and use of a polydynamic microscope, how easily the small achromatic perspective may be applied to this purpose. Botanists might find some advantage in attending to this instrument; it would assist them in discovering small plants at a distance, and thus often save them from the thorns of the hedge, and the dirt of a ditch. 22 Description des Nouveaux Microscopes inventes par M. pinus. Fig. 1. Plate III, represents the improved lucernal microscope. Fig. 1. Plate IV. The improved compound and single microscope. Fig. 2. Plate IV. The best universal compound microscope. Fig. 3. Plate IV, is what is usually called Culpepers, or the common three pillared compound microscope. Fig. 1. Plate V, represents Martins solar opake microscope. Fig. 4. Plate VI, is a picture of the common solar microscope. Fig. 1. Plate VII. A, is Cuffs common compound microscope. Fig. 3. Plate VIII. Martins new microscopic telescope, or convenient portable apparatus for a traveller. We cannot conclude this chapter better than with the following observations on the microscope. We are indebted to it for many discoveries in natural history; but let us not suppose that the Creator intended to hide these objects from our observation. It is true, this instrument discovers to us as it were a new creation, new series of animals, new forests of vegetables; but he who gave being to these, gave us an understanding capable of inventing means to assist our organs in the discovery of their hidden beauties. He gave us eyes adapted to enlarge our ideas, and capable of comprehending a universe at one view, and consequently incapable of discerning those minute beings, with which he has peopled every atom of the universe. But then he gave properties and qualities to matter of a particular kind, by which it would procure us this advantage, and at the same time elevated the understanding from one degree of knowledge to another, till it was able to discover these assistances for our sight. It is thus we should consider the discoveries made by those instruments, which have received their birth from an exertion of our faculties. It is to the same power, who created the objects of our admiration, that we are ultimately to refer the means of discovering them. Let no one, therefore, accuse us of prying deeper into the wonders of nature, than was intended by the great author of the universe. There is nothing we discover by their assistance, which is not a fresh source of praise; and it does not appear that our faculties can be better employed, than in finding means to investigate the works of God. From a partial consideration of these things, we are very apt to criticise what we ought to admire; to look upon as useless what perhaps we should own to be of infinite advantage to us, did we see a little farther; to be peevish where we ought to give thanks; and at the same time to ridicule those who employ their time and thoughts in examining what we were, i. e. some of us most assuredly were created and appointed to study. In short, we are too apt to treat the Almighty worse than a rational man would treat a good mechanic, whose works he would either thoroughly examine, or be ashamed to find any fault with them. This is the effect of a partial consideration of nature; but he who has candor of mind, and leisure to look farther, will be inclined to cry out: How wondrous is this scene! where all is formd With number, weight, and measure! all designd For some great end! where not alone the plant Of stately growth; the herb of glorious hue, Or foodfull substance! not the laboring steed, The herd, and flock that feed us; not the mine That yields us stores for elegance and use; The sea that loads our table, and conveys The wanderer man from clime to clime, with all Those rolling spheres, that from on high shed down Their kindly influence; not these alone, Which strike evn eyes incurious, but each moss, Each shell, each crawling insect, holds a rank Important in the plan of Him, who framd This scale of beings; holds a rank, which lost, Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap Which natures self would rue. Almighty Being, Cause and support of all things, can I view These objects of my wonder; can I feel These fine sensations, and not think of thee? Thou who dost thro th eternal round of time, Dost thro th immensity of space exist Alone, shalt thou alone excluded be From this thy universe? Shall feeble man Think it beneath his proud philosophy To call for thy assistance, and pretend To frame a world, who cannot frame a clod? Not to know thee, is not to know ourselves Is to know nothingnothing worth the care Of mans exalted spirit:all becomes, Without thy ray divine, one dreary gloom, Where lurk the monsters of phantastic brains, Order bereft of thought, uncausd effects, Fate freely acting, and unerring chance. Where meanless matter to a chaos sinks, Or something lower still, for without thee It crumbles into atoms void of force, Void of resistanceit eludes our thought. Where laws eternal to the varying code Of selflove dwindle. Interest, passion, whim, Take place of right and wrong, the golden chain Of beings melts away, and the minds eye Sees nothing but the present. All beyond Is visionary guessis dreamis death.23 23 Stillingfleets Miscellaneous Tracts. CHAP. II. OF VISION; OF THE OPTICAL EFFECT OF MICROSCOPES, AND OF THE MANNER OF ESTIMATING THEIR MAGNIFYING POWERS. The progress that has been made in the science of optics, in the last and present century, particularly by Sir Isaac Newton, may with propriety be ranked among the greatest acquisitions of human knowledge. And Mess. Delaval and Herschel have shewn by their discoveries, that the boundaries of this science may be considerably enlarged. The rays of light, which minister to the sense of sight, are the most wonderful and astonishing part of the inanimate creation; of which we shall soon be convinced, if we consider their extreme minuteness, their inconceivable velocity, the regular variety of colours they exhibit, the invariable laws according to which they are acted upon by other substances, in their reflections, inflections, and refractions, without the least change of their original properties; and the facility with which they pervade bodies of the greatest density and closest texture, without resistance, without crouding or disturbing each other. These, I believe, will be deemed sufficient proofs of the wonderful nature of these rays; without adding, that it is by a peculiar modification of them, that we are indebted for the advantages obtained by the microscope. The science of optics, which explains and treats of many of the properties of those rays of light, is deduced from experiments, on which all philosophers are agreed. It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the nature of vision, without a knowledge of these experiments, and the mathematical reasoning grounded upon them; but as to do this would alone fill a large volume, I shall only endeavour to render some of the more general principles clear, that the reader, who is unacquainted with the science of optics, may nevertheless be enabled to comprehend the nature of vision by the microscope. Some of the most important of these principles may be deduced from the following very interesting experiment. Darken a room, and let the light be admitted therein only by a small hole; then, if the weather be fine, you will see on the wall, which is facing the hole, a picture of all those exterior objects which are opposite thereto, with all their colours, though these will be but faintly seen. The image of the objects that are stationary, as trees, houses, c. will appear fixed; while the images of those that are in motion, will be seen to move. The image of every object will appear inverted, because the rays cross each other in passing through the small hole. If the sun shine on the hole, we shall see a luminous ray proceed in a strait line, and terminate on the wall. If the eye be placed in this ray, it will be in a right line with the hole and the sun: it is the same with every other object which is painted on the wall. The images of the objects exhibited on the same plane, are smaller in proportion as the objects are further from the hole. Many and important are the inferences which may be deduced from the foregoing experiment, among which are the following: 1. That light flows in a right line. 2. That a luminous point may be seen from all those places to which a strait line can be drawn from the point, without meeting with any obstacle; and consequently, 3. That a luminous point, by some unknown power, sends forth rays of light in all directions, and is the center of a sphere of light, which extends indefinitely on all sides; and if we conceive some of these rays to be intercepted by a plane, then is the luminous point the summit of a pyramid, whose body is formed by the rays, and its base by the intercepting plane. The image of the surface of an object, which is painted on the wall, is also the base of a pyramid of light, the apex of which is the hole; the rays which form this pyramid, by crossing at the hole, form another, similar and opposite to this, of which the hole is also the summit, and the surface of the object the base. 4. That an object is visible, because all its points are radiant points. 5. That the particles of light are indefinitely small; for the rays, which proceed from the points of all the objects opposite to the hole, pass through it, though extremely small, without embarrassing or confounding each other. 6. That every ray of light carries with it the image of the object from which it was emitted. The nature of vision in the eye may be imperfectly illustrated by the experiment of the darkened room; the pupil of the eye being considered as the hole through which the rays of light pass, and cross each other, to paint on the retina, at the bottom of the eye, the inverted images of all those objects which are exposed to the sight, so that the diameters of the images of the same object are greater, in proportion to the angles formed at the pupil, by the crossing rays which proceed from the extremities of the object; that is, the diameter of the image is greater, in proportion as the distance is less; or, in other words, the apparent magnitude of an object is in some degree measured by the angle under which it is seen, and this angle increases or diminishes, according as the object is nearer to, or farther from the eye; and consequently, the less the distance is between the eye and the object, the larger the latter will appear. From hence it follows, that the apparent diameter of an object seen by the naked eye, may be magnified in any proportion we please; for, as the apparent diameter is increased, in proportion as the distance from the eye is lessenned, we have only to lessen the distance of the object from the eye, in order to increase the apparent diameter thereof.24 Thus, suppose there is an object, A B, Plate I. Fig. 1, which to an eye at E subtends or appears under the angle A E B, we may magnify the apparent diameter in what proportion we please, by bringing our eye nearer to it. If, for instance, we would magnify it in the proportion of F G to A B; that is, if we would see the object under an angle as large as F E G, or would make it appear the same length that an object as long as F G would appear, it may be done by coming nearer to the object. For the apparent diameter is as the distance inversely; therefore, if C D is as much less than C E, as F G is greater than A B, by bringing the eye nearer to the object in the proportion of C D to E D, the apparent diameter will be magnified in the proportion of F G to A B; so that the object A B, to the eye at D, will appear as long as an object F G would appear to the eye at E. In the same manner we might shew, that the apparent diameter of an object, when seen by the naked eye, may be infinite. For since the apparent diameter is reciprocally as the distance of the eye, when the distance of the eye is nothing or when the eye is close to the object at C, the apparent diameter will be the reciprocal of nothing, or infinite. 24 Rutherforths System of Natural Philosophy, p. 330. There is, however, one great inconvenience in thus magnifying an object, without the help of glasses, by placing the eye nearer to it. The inconvenience is, that we cannot see an object distinctly, unless the eye is about five or six inches from it; therefore, if we bring it nearer to our eye than five or six inches, however it may be magnified, it will be seen confusedly. Upon this account, the greatest apparent magnitude of an object that we are used to, is the apparent magnitude when the eye is about five or six inches from it: and we never place an object much within that distance; because, though it might be magnified by these means, yet the confusion would prevent our deriving any advantage from seeing it so large. The size of an object seems extraordinary, when viewed through a convex lens; not because it is impossible to make it appear of the same size to the naked eye, but because at the distance from the eye which would be necessary for this purpose, it would appear exceedingly confused; for which reason, we never bring our eye so near to it, and consequently, as we have not been accustomed to see the object of this size, it appears an extraordinary one. On account of the extreme minuteness of the atoms of light, it is clear, a single ray, or even a small number of rays, cannot make a sensible impression on the organ of sight, whose fibres are very gross, when compared to these atoms; it is necessary, therefore, that a great number should proceed from the surface of an object, to render it visible. But as the rays of light, which proceed from an object, are continually diverging, different methods have been contrived, either of uniting them in a given point, or of separating them at pleasure: the manner of doing this is the subject of dioptrics and catoptrics. By the help of glasses, we unite in the same sensible point a great number or rays, proceeding from one point of an object; and as each ray carries with it the image of the point from whence it proceeded, all the rays united must form an image of the object from whence they were emitted. This image is brighter, in proportion as there are more rays united; and more distinct, in proportion as the order, in which they proceeded, is better preserved in their union. This may be rendered evident; for, if a white and polished plane be placed where the union is formed, we shall see the image of the object painted in all its colours on this plane; which image will be brighter, if all adventitious light be excluded from the plane on which it is received. The point of union of the rays of light, formed by means of a glass lens, c. is called the FOCUS. Now, as each ray carries with it the image of the object from whence it proceeded, it follows, that if those rays, after intersecting each other, and having formed an image at their intersection, are again united by a refraction or reflection, they will form a new image, and that repeatedly, as long as their order is not confounded or disturbed. It follows also, that when the progress of the luminous ray is under consideration, we may look on the image as the object, and the object as the image; and consider the second image as if it had been produced by the first as an object, and so on. In order to gain a clear idea of the wonderful effects produced by glasses, we must proceed to say something of the principles of refraction. Any body, which is so constituted as to yield a passage to the rays of light, is called a MEDIUM. Air, water, glass, c. are mediums of light. If any medium afford an easy passage to the rays of light, it is called a RARE MEDIUM; but if it do not afford an easy passage to these rays, it is called a DENSE MEDIUM. Let Z, Fig. 2. Plate I. be a rare medium, and Y a dense one; and let them be separated by the plane surface G H. Let I K be a perpendicular to it, and cutting it in C. With the center C, and any distance, let a circle be described. Then let A C be a ray of light, falling upon the dense medium. This ray, if nothing prevented, would go forward to L; but because the medium Y is supposed to be denser than Z, it will be bent downward toward the perpendicular I K, and describe the line C B. The ray A C is called the INCIDENT RAY; and the ray C B, the REFRACTED RAY. The angle A C I is called the ANGLE OF INCIDENCE, and the angle B C K is called the ANGLE OF REFRACTION. If from the point A upon the right line C I, there be let fall the perpendicular A D, that line is called the sine of the angle of incidence. In the same manner, if from the point B, upon the right line I K, there be let fall the perpendicular B E, that line will be the sine of the angle of refraction. The sines of the angles are the measures of the refractions, and this measure is constant; that is, whatever is the sine of the angle of incidence, it will be in a constant proportion to the sine of the angle of refraction, when the mediums continue the same. A general idea of refraction may be formed from the following experiments. EXPERIMENT 1. Let A B C D, Fig. 3. Plate I. represent a vessel so placed, with respect to the candle E, that the shadow of the side A C may fall at D. Suppose the vessel to be now filled with water, and the shadow will withdraw to d; the ray of light, instead of proceeding to D, being refracted or bent to d. And there is no doubt but that an eye, placed at d, would see the candle at e, in the direction of the refracted ray d A. This is also confirmed by the following pleasing experiment. 2. Lay a shilling, or any piece of money, at the bottom of a bason; then withdraw from the bason, till you lose sight of the shilling; fill the bason nearly with water, and the shilling will be seen very plainly, though you are at the same distance from it. 3. Place a stick over a bason which is filled with water; then reflect the suns rays, so that they may fall perpendicularly on the surface of the water; the shadow of the stick will fall on the same place, whether the vessel be empty or full. What has been said of water, may be applied to any transparent medium, only the power of refraction is greater in some than in others. It is from this wonderful property, that we derive all the curious effects of glass, which make it the subject of optics. It is to this we owe the powers of the microscope and the telescope. To produce these effects, pieces of glass are formed into given figures, which, when so formed, are called lenses. The six following figures are those which are most in use for optical purposes. 1. A PLANE GLASS, one that is flat on each side, and of an equal thickness throughout. F, Fig. 13. Plate I. 2. A DOUBLE CONVEX GLASS, one that is more elevated towards the middle than the edge. B, Fig. 13. Plate I. 3. A DOUBLE CONCAVE is hollow on both sides, or thinner in the middle than at the edges. D, Fig. 13. Plate I. 4. A PLANO CONVEX, flat on one side, and convex on the other. A, Fig. 13. Plate I. 5. A PLANO CONCAVE, flat on one side, and concave on the other. C, Fig. 13. Plate I. 6. A MENISCUS, convex on one side, concave on the other. E, Fig. 13. Plate I. It has been already observed, that light proceeds invariably from a luminous body, in strait lines, without the least deviation; but if it happen to pass from one medium to another, it always leaves the direction it had before, and assumes a new one. After having taken this new direction, it proceeds in a strait line, till it meets with a different medium, which again turns it out of its course. A ray of light passing obliquely through a plane glass, will go out in the same direction it entered, though not precisely in the same line. The ray C D, Fig.4. Plate I. falling obliquely upon the surface of the plane glass A B, will be refracted towards the glass in the direction D E; but when it comes to E, it will be as much refracted the contrary way. If the ray of light had fallen perpendicularly on the surface of the plane glass, it would have passed through it in a strait line, and not have been refracted at all. If parallel rays of light, as a b c d e f g, Fig. 6. Plate I. fall directly upon a convex lens A B, they will be so bent, as to unite in a point C behind it. For the ray d D which falls perpendicularly upon the middle of the glass, will go through it without suffering any refraction: but those which go through the sides of the lens, falling obliquely on its surface, will be so bent, as to meet the central ray at C. The further the ray a is from the axis of the lens, the more obliquely it will fall upon it. The rays a b c d e f g will be so refracted, as to meet or be collected in the point C, called the principal focus, whose distance, in a double convex lens, is equal to the radius or semidiameter of the sphere of the convexity of the lens. All the rays cross the middle ray at C, and then diverge from it to the contrary side, in the same manner as they were before converged. If another lens, of the same convexity, as A B, Fig. 6. Plate I. be placed in the rays, and at the same distance from the focus, it will refract them, so that after going out of it, they will all be parallel again, and go on in the same manner as they came to the first glass A B, but on the contrary sides of the middle ray. The rays diverge from any radiant point, as from a principal focus: therefore, if a candle be placed at C, in the focus of the convex lens A B, Fig. 6. Plate I. the rays diverging from it will be so refracted by the lens, that after going out of it, they will become parallel. If the candle be placed nearer the lens than its focal distance, the rays will diverge more or less, as the candle is more or less distant from the focus. If any object, A B, Fig. 7. Plate I. be placed beyond the focus of the convex lens E F, some of the rays which flow from every point of the object, on the side next the glass, will fall upon it, and after passing through it, they will be converged into as many points on the opposite side of the glass; for the rays a b, which flow from the point A, will converge into a b, and meet at C. The rays c d, flowing from the point G, will be converged into c d, and meet at g; and the rays which flow from B, will meet each other again at D; and so of the rays which flow from any of the intermediate points: for there will be as many focal points formed, as there are radiant points in the object, and consequently they will depict on a sheet of paper, or any other lightcoloured body, placed at D g C, an inverted image of the object. If the object be brought nearer the lens, the picture will be formed further off. If it be placed at the principal focus, the rays will go out parallel, and consequently form no picture behind the glass. To render this still plainer, let us divest what has been said of the As and Bs, and of the references to figures. When objects are viewed through a flat or plane glass, the rays of light in passing through it, from the object to the eye, proceed in a strait direction and parallel to each other, and consequently the object appeared at the same distance as to the naked eye, neither enlarged or diminished. But if the glass be of a convex form, the rays of light change their direction in passing through the glass, and incline from the circumference towards the center of convexity, in an angle proportional to the convexity, and meet at a point at a less or greater distance from the glass, as it is more or less convex. The point where the rays thus meet is called the focus; when, therefore, the convexity is small, the focus is at a great distance, but when it is considerable, the focus is near; the magnifying power is in proportion to the change made in the rays, or the degree of convexity, by which we are enabled to see an object nearer than we otherwise could; and the nearer it is brought to the eye, the larger will be the angle under which it appears, and consequently the more it will be magnified. The human eye is so constituted, that it can only have distinct vision, when the rays which fall on it are parallel, or nearly so; because the retina, on which the image is painted, is placed in the focus of the crystalline humor, which performs the office of a lens in collecting rays, and forming the image in the bottom of the eye. As an object becomes perceptible to us, by means of the image thereof which is formed on the retina, it will, therefore, be seen in that direction, in which the rays enter the eye to form the image, and will always be found in the line, in which the axis of a pencil of rays flowing from it enters the eye. We from hence acquire a habit of judging the object to be situated in that line. Note; as the mind is unacquainted with the refraction the rays suffer before they enter the eye, it judges them to be in the line produced back, in which the axis of a pencil of rays flowing from it is situated, and not in that in which it was before the refraction. If the rays, therefore, that proceed from an object, are refracted and reflected several times before they enter the eye, and these refractions or reflections change considerably the original direction of the rays which proceed from the object, it is clear, that it will not be seen in that line, which would come strait from it to the eye; but it will be seen in the direction of those rays which enter the eye, and form the image thereof on it. We perceive the presence and figure of objects, by the impression each respective image makes on the retina; the mind, in consequence of these impressions, forms conclusions concerning the size, position, and motion of the object. It must however be observed, that these conclusions are often rectified or changed by the mind, in consequence of the effects of more habitual impressions. For example, there is a certain distance, at which, in the general business of life, we are accustomed to see objects: now, though the measure of the image of these objects changes considerably when they move from, or approach nearer to us, yet we do not perceive that their size is much altered; but beyond this distance, we find the objects appear to be diminished, or increased, in proportion as they are more or less distant from us. For instance, if I place my eye successively at two, at four, and at six feet from the same person, the dimensions of the image on the retina will be nearly in the proportion of 1, of , of , and consequently they should appear to be diminished in the same proportion; but we do not perceive this diminution, because the mind has rectified the impression received on the retina. To prove this, we need only consider, that if we see a person at 120 feet distance, he will not appear so strikingly small, as if the same person should be viewed from the top of a tower, or other building 120 feet high, a situation to which we had not been accustomed. From hence, also, it is clear, that when we place a glass between the object and the eye, which from its figure changes the direction of the rays of light from the object, this object ought not to be judged as if it were placed at the ordinary reach of the sight, in which case we judge of its size more by habit than by the dimensions of the images formed on the retina; but it must be estimated by the size of the image in the eye, or by the angle formed at the eye, by the two rays which come from the extremity of the object. If the image of an object, formed after refraction, be greater or less than the angle formed at the eye, by the rays proceeding from the extremities of the object itself, the object will appear also proportionably enlarged or diminished; so that if the eye approach to or remove from the last image, the object will appear to increase or diminish, though the eye should in reality remove from it in one case, or approach toward it in the other; because the image takes place of the object, and is considered instead of it. The apparent distance of an object from the eye, is not measured by the real distance from the last image; for, as the apparent distance is estimated principally by the ideas we have of their size, it follows, that when we see objects, whose images are increased or diminished by refraction, we naturally judge them to be nearer or further from the eye, in proportion to the size thereof, when compared to that with which we are acquainted. The apparent distance of an object is considerably affected by the brightness, distinctness, and magnitude thereof. Now as these circumstances are, in a certain degree, altered by the refraction of the rays, in their passing through different mediums, they will also, in some measure, affect the estimation of the apparent distance. In the theory of vision it is necessary to be cautious not to confound the organs of vision with the being that perceives, or with the perspective faculty. The eye is not that which sees, it is only the organ by which we see. A man cannot see the satellites of Jupiter but by a telescope. Does he conclude from this, that it is the telescope that sees those stars? By no means; such a conclusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to conclude, that it is the eye that sees. The telescope is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see; but the natural organ sees as little as the artificial. The eye is a machine, most admirably contrived for refracting the rays of light, and forming a distinct picture of objects upon the retina; but it sees neither the object nor the picture. It can form the picture after it is taken out of the head, but no vision ensues. Even when it is in its proper place, and perfectly sound, it is well known, that an obstruction in the optic nerve takes away vision, though the eye has performed all that belongs to it.25 25 Reid on the Intellectual Powers of Man, p. 78. OF THE SINGLE MICROSCOPE. The single microscope renders minute objects visible, by means of a small glass globule, or convex lens, of a short focus. Let E Y, Fig. 11. Plate I. represent the eye; and O B a small object, situated very near to it; consequently, the angle of its apparent magnitude very large. Let the convex lens R S be interposed between the eye and the object, so that the distance between it and the object may be equal to the focal length; and the rays which diverge from the object, and pass through the lens, will afterwards proceed, and consequently enter the eye parallel: after which, they will be converged, and form an inverted picture on the retina, and the object will be clearly seen; though, if removed to the distance of six inches, its smallness would render it invisible. When the lens is not held close to the eye, the object is somewhat more magnified; because the pencils, which pass at a distance from the center of the lens, are refracted inward toward the axis, and consequently seem to come from points more remote from the center of the object, as may be seen in Fig. 12. Plate I. where the pencils which proceed from O and B are refracted inwards, and seem to come from the point i and m. Fig. 8. Plate I. may, perhaps give the reader a still clearer view, why a convex lens increases the angle of vision. Without a lens, as F G, the eye at A would see the dart B C under the angle b A c; but the rays B F and C G from the extremities of the dart in passing through the lens, are refracted to the eye in the directions f A and g A, which causes the dart to be seen under the much larger angle D A E (the same as the angle f A g.) And therefore the dart B C will appear so much magnified, as to extend in length from D to E. The object, when thus seen distinctly, by means of a small lens, appears to be magnified nearly in the proportion which the focal distance of the glass bears to the distance of the objects, when viewed by the naked eye. To explain this further, place the eye close to the glass, that as much of the object may be seen at one view as is possible; then remove the object to and fro, till it appear perfectly distinct, and well defined; now remove the lens, and substitute in its place a thin plate, with a very small hole in it, and the object will appear as distinct, and as much magnified, as with the lens, though not quite so bright; and it appears as much more magnified in this case, than it does when viewed with the naked eye, as the distance of the object from the hole, or lens, is less than the distance at which it may be seen distinctly with the naked eye. From hence we see, that the whole effect of the lens is to render the object distinct, which it does by assisting the eye to increase the refraction of the rays in each pencil; and that the apparent magnitude is entirely owing to the object being seen so much nearer the eye than it could be viewed without it. Single microscopes magnify the diameter of the object,26 as we have already shewn, in the proportion of the focal distance (to the limits of distinct vision with the naked eye) to eight inches. For example, if the semidiameter of a lens, equally convex on both sides, be half an inch, which is also equal to its focal distance, we shall have as  is to 8, so is 1 to 16; that is, the diameter of the object in the proportion of sixteen to one. 2. As the distance of eight inches is always the same, it follows, that by how much the focal distance is smaller, there will be a greater difference between it and the eight inches; and consequently, the diameter of the object will be so much the more magnified, in proportion as the lenses are segments of smaller spheres. 3. If the object be placed in the focus of a glass globule or sphere, and the eye be behind it in the focus, the object will be seen distinct in an erect situation, and magnified as to its diameter, in the proportion of  of the diameter of the globule to eight inches; thus suppose the diameter of the sphere to be  of an inch, then  of this will be equal to ; consequently, the real diameter of the object to the apparent one, as  to 8, or as 3 to 320, or as 1 to 106 nearly. 26 Cyclopedia, Article Microscope. OF THE DOUBLE OR COMPOUND MICROSCOPE. In the compound microscope, the image is viewed instead of the object, which image is magnified by a single lens, as the object is in a single microscope. It consists of an object lens N L, Fig. 5. Plate I. and an eye glass F G. The object B O is placed a little further from the lens than its principal focal distance, so that the pencils of rays proceeding from the different points of the object through the lens, may converge to their respective foci, and form an inverted image of the object at Q P; which image is viewed by the eye through the eye glass F G, which is so placed, that the image may be in its focus on one side, and the eye at the same distance on the other. The rays of each pencil will be parallel, after passing out of the glass, till they reach the eye at E, where they will begin to converge by the refractive powers of the humours; and after having crossed each other in the pupil, and passed through the crystalline and vitreous humours, they will be collected in points on the retina, and form a large inverted image thereon. It will be easy, from what has been already explained, to understand the reason of the magnifying power of a compound microscope. The object is magnified upon two accounts; first, because if we viewed the image with the naked eye, it would appear as much larger than the object, as the image is really larger than it, or as the distance f R is greater than the distance f b; and secondly, because this picture is again magnified by the eye glass, upon the principle explained in the foregoing article on vision, by single microscopes. But it is to be noted, that the image formed in the focus of a lens, as is the case in the compound microscope, differs from the real object in a very essential particular; that is to say, the light being emitted from the object in every direction, renders it visible to an eye placed in any position; but the points of the image formed by a lens, emitting no more than a small conical body of rays, which arrives from the glass, can be visible only when the eye is situate within its confine. Thus, the pencil, which emanates from o in the object, and is converged by the lens to D, proceeds afterwards diverging towards H, and, therefore, never arrives at the lens F G, nor enters the eye at E. But the pencils which proceed from the points o and b, will be received on the lens F G, and by it carried parallel to the eye; consequently, the correspondent points of the image Q P will be visible; and those which are situate farther out towards H and I, will not be seen. This quantity of the image Q P, or visible area, is called the field of view. Hence it appears, that if the image be large, a very small part of it will be visible; because the pencils of rays will for the most part fall without the eye glass F G. And it is likewise plain, that a remedy which would cause the pencils, which proceed from the extremes B and O of the object, to arrive at the eye, will render a greater part of it visible: or, in other words, enlarge the field of view. This is effected by the interposition of a broad lens D E, Fig. 5, of a proper curvature, at a small distance from the focal image. For, by those means, the pencil D N, which would otherwise have proceeded towards H, is refracted to the eye, as delineated in the figure, and the mind conceives from thence the existence of a radiant point at Q, from which the rays last proceeded. In like manner, and by a parity of reason, the other extreme of the image is seen at P, and the intermediate points are also rendered visible. On these considerations it is, that compound microscopes are usually made to consist of an object lens N L, by which the image is formed, enlarged, and inverted; an amplifying lens D E, by which the field of view is enlarged, and an eye glass or lens, by which the eye is allowed to approach very near, and consequently to view the image under a very great angle of apparent magnitude. It is now customary to combine two or more lenses together at the eye glass, in the manner of Eustachio Divinis and M. Joblot; by which means the aberration of light from the figure is in some measure corrected, and the apparent field increased. OF THE SOLAR MICROSCOPE. In this instrument, the image of the object is refracted upon a screen in a darkened room. It may be considered under two distinct heads: 1st, the mirror and lens, which are intended to reflect and transmit the light of the sun upon the object; and 2dly, that part which constitutes the microscope, or which produces the magnified image of the object, Fig. 10. Plate I. Let N O represent the side of a darkened chamber, G H a small convex lens, fixed opposite to a perforation in the side N O, A B a plane mirror or looking glass, placed without the room to reflect the solar rays on the lens C D, by which they are converged and concentrated on the object fixed at E F. 2. The object being thus illuminated, the ray which proceeds from E will be converged by the lens G H to a focus K, on the screen L M; and the ray which comes from F will be converged to I, and the intermediate points will be delineated between I and K; thus forming a picture, which will be as much larger than the object, in proportion as the distance of the screen exceeds that of the image from the object; a small object, such as a mite, c. may be thus magnified to eight or ten feet in diameter. From what has been said, it appears plainly, the advantages we gain by microscopes are derived, first, from their magnifying power, by which the eye is enabled to view more distinctly the parts of minute objects: secondly, that by their assistance, more light is thrown into the pupil of the eye, than is done without them. The advantages procured by the magnifying power, would be exceedingly circumscribed, if they were not accompanied by the latter: for if the same quantity of light be diffused over a much larger surface, its force is proportionably diminished; and therefore the object, though magnified, will be dark and obscure. Thus, suppose the diameter of the object to be enlarged ten times, and consequently the surface onehundred times, yet, if the focal distance of the glass were eight inches, provided this were possible, and its diameter only about the size of the pupil of the eye, the object would appear onehundred times more obscure when viewed through the glass, than when it was seen by the naked eye; and this even on the supposition that the glass transmitted all the light which fell upon it, which no glass can do. But if the glass were only four inches focal distance, and its diameter remained as before, the inconvenience would be vastly diminished, because the glass could be placed twice as near the object as before, and would consequently receive four times as many rays as in the former case, and we should, therefore, see it much brighter than before. By going on thus, diminishing the focal distance of the glass, and keeping its diameter as large as possible, we shall perceive the object proportionably magnified, and yet remain bright and distinct. Though this is the case in theory, yet there is a limit in optical instruments, which is soon arrived at, but which cannot be passed. This arises from the following circumstances.27 27 Encyclopdia Britannica, last edition, vol. xiii, p. 357. 1. The quantity of light lost in passing through the glass. 2. The diminution in the diameter of the glass or lens itself, by which it receives only a small quantity of rays. 3. The extreme shortness of the focal distance of great magnifiers, whereby the free access of the light to the object we wish to view is impeded, and consequently the reflection of the light from it is weakened. 4. The aberration of the rays, occasioned by their different refrangibility. To make this more clear, let us suppose a lens made of such dull kind of glass, that it transmits only one half the light that falls upon it. It is evident, that supposing this lens to be of four inches focus, and to magnify the diameter of the object twice, and its own breadth equal to that of the pupil of the eye, the object will be four times magnified in surface, but only half as bright as if it was seen by the naked eye at the usual distance; for the light which falls upon the eye from the object at eight inches distance, and likewise the surface of the object in its natural size, being both represented by 1, the surface of the magnified object will be 4, and the light which makes it visible only 2; because, though the glass receives four times as much light as the naked eye does at the usual distance of distinct vision, yet one half is lost in passing through the glass. The inconvenience, in this respect, can only be removed so far as it is possible to increase the transparency of the glass, that it may transmit nearly all the rays which fall upon it; and how far this can be done, has not been yet ascertained. The second obstacle to the perfection of microscopic glasses, is the small size of great magnifiers; by which means, notwithstanding their near approach to the object, they receive a smaller quantity of light than might be expected. Thus, suppose a glass of only onetenth of an inch focal distance, such a glass would increase the visible diameter eighty times, and the surface 6400 times. If the breadth of the glass could at the same time be preserved as great as the pupil of the eye, which we shall suppose onetenth of an inch, the object would appear magnified 6400 times, and every part would be as bright as it appears to the naked eye. But if we suppose the lens to be only  of an inch diameter, it will then only receive onefourth of the light which would otherwise have fallen upon it; therefore, instead of communicating to the magnified object a quantity of light equal to 6400, it would communicate an illumination suited only to 1600, and the magnified object would appear four times as dim as it does to the naked eye. This inconvenience can, however, in a great degree be removed, by throwing a much larger quantity of light on the object. Various methods of effecting this purpose will be pointed out in the course of this work. The third obstacle arises from the shortness of the focal distance in large magnifiers; this inconvenience can, like the former, be remedied in some degree, by artificial means of accumulating light; but still the eye is strained, as it must be brought nearer the glass than it can well bear, which in some measure supersedes the use of very deep lenses, or such as are capable of magnifying beyond a certain degree. The fourth obstacle arises from the different refrangibility of the rays of light, which frequently causes such deviations from truth in the appearance of things, that many have imagined themselves to have made surprising discoveries, and have communicated them as such to the world; when, in fact, they have been only so many optical deceptions, owing to the unequal refraction of the rays. In telescopes, this error has been happily corrected by the late Mr. Dollonds valuable discovery of achromatic glasses; but how far this invention is applicable to the improvement of microscopes, has not yet been ascertained; and, indeed, from some few trials made, there is reason for supposing they cannot be successfully applied to microscopes with high powers; so that this improvement is yet a desideratum in the construction of microscopes, and they may be considered as being yet far from their ultimate degree of perfection.28 28 How many useful and ingenious discoveries have arisen from accidental circumstances? To adduce one recent instance onlyAerostation, a science, which after having baffled the skill and ingenuity of philosophers for a series of years, and by many illiterate persons deemed an idea bordering on absurdity, has been of late discovered, and successfully applied to practice. EDIT. OF THE MAGNIFYING POWERS OF THE MICROSCOPE. We have already treated of the apparent magnitude of objects, and shewn that they are measured by the angles under which they are seen, and that this angle is greater or smaller according as the object is nearer to, or further from, the eye; and, consequently, the less the distance at which it can be viewed, the larger it will appear: but from the limits of natural vision, the naked eye cannot distinguish an object that is very near to it; yet, when assisted by a convex lens, distinct vision is obtained, however short the focus of the lens, and, consequently, how near soever the object is to the eye; and the shorter the focus of the lens is, the greater will be the magnifying power thereof. From these considerations, it will not be difficult to estimate the magnifying power of any lens used as a single microscope; for this will be in the same proportion that the limits of natural sight bear to the focus of the lens. If, for instance, the convex lens is of one inch focus, and the natural sight of eight inches, an object seen through that lens will have its diameter apparently increased eight times; but, as the object is increased in every direction, we must square this apparent diameter, to know how much the object is really magnified; and thus multiplying 8 by 8, we find the superficies is magnified 64 times. From these principles, the following general rule for ascertaining the magnifying power of single lenses, is deduced. Place a small thin transparent object on the stage of the microscope, adjust the lens till the object appears perfectly distinct, then measure the distance accurately between the lens and the object, reduce the measure thus found to the hundredths of an inch, and calculate how many times this measure is contained in eight inches, first reducing the eight inches into hundredths, which will give you the number of times the diameter of the object is magnified; which number multiplied into itself, or squared, gives the apparent superficial magnitude of the object. As only one side of an object can be viewed at a time, it is sufficient, in general, to know how much the surface thereof is magnified: but when it is necessary to know how many minute objects are contained in a larger, as for instance, how many given animalcul are contained in the bulk of a grain of sand, then we must cube the first number, by which means we shall obtain the solidity or magnified bulk. The foregoing rule has been also applied to estimate the magnifying power of the compound microscope. To this application, Mr. Magny, in the Journal dEconomie pour le mois dAout 1753, has made several objections: one or two of these I shall just mention; the first is the difficulty of ascertaining with accuracy the precise focus of a small lens; the second is the want of a fixed or known measure, with which to compare the focus when ascertained. These considerations, though apparently trifling, will be found of importance in the calculations which are relative to deep magnifiers. To this it may be further added, that the same standard or fixed measure cannot be assumed for a shortsighted, that is used for a wellconstituted eye. To obviate these difficulties, and some errors in the methods which were recommended by Mess. Baker and Needham, Mr. Magny offers the following PROPOSITION. All convex lenses of whatsoever foci, double the apparent diameter of an object, provided that the object be at the focus of the glass on one side, and the eye be at the same distance, or on the focus of the glass, at the opposite side. EXPERIMENT. Take a double convex lens, of six or eight inches focus, and fix it as at A, Fig. 1, Plate II. A, into the piece A, which is fixed perpendicular to the rule F G, and may be slid along it by means of its socket: the rule is divided into inches and parts. Paste a piece of white paper, two or three tenths of an inch broad, and three inches long, on the board D; draw three lines with ink on this piece of paper, so as to divide it into four equal parts, taking care that the middle of the paper corresponds with the center of the lens. There is also a sliding eyepiece, which is represented at e. Take this apparatus into the darkest part of the room, but opposite to the window; direct the glass towards any remarkable and distant object which is out of doors, and move the sliding piece B, until the image of the object on the paper be sharp and clear. The distance between the face of the paper and the lens (which is shewn on the side of the rule by the divisions thereon) is the focus of the glass; now set the eyepiece e E to the same distance on the other side of the glass, then with one eye close to the sight at e, look at the magnified image of the lines, and with the other eye at the lines themselves: the image, seen by means of the glass, and expressed in the figure by the dotted lines, will be double the breadth of the same object seen by the natural eye. This will be found to be true, whatsoever is the focus of the lens with which the experiment is made. This experiment is rendered more simple to those who are not accustomed to observe with both eyes at the same time, by making use of half a lens, and placing the diameter perpendicular to the rule, as they may then readily view the magnified image and real object with the same glance of the eye, and thus compare them together with ease and accuracy. Let the angle A F B, Fig. 3. Plate II. A, represent that which is formed at the naked eye, by the rays of light which pass from the extremities of the object, and unite at the eye in the point F. The angle D F E is formed of the two rays, which at first proceeded parallel to each other from the extremities of the object, but that were afterwards so refracted, or bent, by passing through the glass, as to unite at its focal point F. C O is equal to the focal distance of the lens on the side next the object, C F equal thereto on the side next the eye, F O the distance of the eye. From the allowed principles of optics, it is evident, that the object would appear double the size to the eye at C, than it would to the eye when placed at F; because the distance F O is double the distance C O. We have only to prove then, that the angle A C B is equal to the angle I F K, in order to establish the proposition. The optical axis is perpendicular to the glass and the surface of the object. The rays A I, B K, which flow from the points A B are parallel to each other, and perpendicular to the glass, till they arrive at it; they are then refracted and proceed to F, where they form the triangle I F K, resting on the base I K: now as C F is equal to C O, and I K is equal to A B, the two triangles A C B, I F K are similar, and consequently the angle at C is equal to the angle F. If the visual rays are continued to the surface of the object, they will form the triangle D F E, equiangled to the triangle A B C; and therefore, as C O is to A B, so is F D to D E; and consequently, the apparent diameter of the object seen through the lens is double the size that it is when viewed by the naked eye. No notice is here taken of the double refraction of the rays, as it does not affect the demonstration. If you advance towards M, half the focal distance, the apparent diameter will be only increased onethird. If, on the contrary, the point of sight is lengthened to double the distance of its focus, then the magnified diameter will appear to be three times that of the real object. Mr. Magny concludes from hence, that there is an impropriety in estimating the magnifying power of the eye glass of compound microscopes, by seeing how often its focus is contained in eight or ten inches; and to obviate these defects, he recommends two methods to be used, which reciprocally confirm each other. The first and most simple method to find how much any compound microscope magnifies an object, is the same which is described by Dr. Hooke in his Micrographia, and is as follows: place an accurate scale, which is divided into very minute parts of an inch, on the stage of your microscope; adjust the microscope, till these divisions appear distinct; then observe with the other eye how many divisions of a rule, similarly divided and held at the stage, are included in one of the magnified divisions: for if one division, as seen with one eye through the microscope, extend to thirty divisions on the rule, which is seen by the naked eye, it is evident, that the diameter of the object is increased or magnified thirty times. For this purpose, we often use a small black ebony rule, (see Fig. 4. Plate II. A,) three or four tenths of an inch broad, and about seven inches long; at each inch is fixed a piece of ivory, the first inch is entirely of ivory, and subdivided into ten equal parts. 2. A piece of glass, Fig. 2, fixed in a brass or ivory slider; on the diameter of this are drawn two parallel lines, about threetenths of an inch long; each tenth being divided, one into three, the second into four, the third into five parts. To use this, place the glass, Fig. 2, on the middle of the stage, and the rule, Fig. 4, on one side, but parallel to it; then look into the microscope with one eye, keeping the other open, and observe how many parts onetenth of a line in the microscope takes in upon the parts of the rule seen by the naked eye. For instance, suppose with a fourth magnifier that onetenth of an inch magnified answers in length to fortytenths or parts on the rule, when seen by the naked eye, then this magnifier increases the diameter of the object forty times. This mode of actual admeasurement is, without doubt, the most simple that can be used; by it we comprehend, as it were, at one glance, the different effects of combined glasses; it saves the trouble, and avoids the obscurity that attends the usual modes of calculation; but many persons find it exceedingly difficult to adopt this method, because they have not been accustomed to observe with both eyes at once. We shall therefore proceed to describe another method, which has not this inconvenience. OF THE NEEDLE MICROMETER. Fig. 8. Plate II. A, represents this micrometer. The first of this kind was made by my father, and was described by him in his Micrographia Illustrata. It consists of a screw, which has fifty threads to an inch; this screw carries an index, which points to the divisions on a circular plate, which is fixed at right angles to the axis of the screw. The revolutions of the screw are counted on a scale, which is an inch divided into fifty parts; the index to these divisions is a flower de luce marked upon the slider, which carries the needle point across the field of the microscope. Every revolution of the micrometer screw measures   part of an inch, which is again subdivided by means of the divisions on the circular plate, as this is divided into twenty equal parts, over which the index passes at every revolution of the screw; by which means, we obtain with ease the measure of onethousandth part of an inch; for 50, the number of threads on the screw in one inch, being multiplied by 20, the divisions on the circular plate, are equal to 1000; so that each division on the circular plate shews that the needle has either advanced or receded onethousandth part of an inch. To place this micrometer on the body of the microscope, open the circular part F K H, Fig. 8. Plate II. A, by taking out the screw G, throw back the semicircle F K which moves upon a joint at K, then turn the sliding tube of the body of the microscope, so that the small holes which are in both tubes may exactly coincide, and let the needle g of the micrometer have a free passage through them; after this, screw it fast upon the body by the screw G. The needle will now traverse the field of the microscope, and measure the length and breadth of the image of any object that is applied to it. But further assistance must be had, in order to measure the object itself, which is a subject of real importance; for though we have ascertained the power of the microscope, and know that it is so many thousand times, yet this will be of little assistance towards ascertaining an accurate idea of its real size; for our ideas of bulk being formed by the comparison of one object with another, we can only judge of that of any particular body, by comparing it with another whose size is known: the same thing is necessary, in order to form an estimate by the microscope; therefore, to ascertain the real measure of the object, we must make the point of the needle pass over the image of a known part of an inch placed on the stage, and write down the revolutions made by the screw, while the needle passed over the image of this known measure; by which means we ascertain the number of revolutions on the screw, which are adequate to a real and known measure on the stage. As it requires an attentive eye to watch the motion of the needle point, as it passes over the image of a known part of an inch on the stage, we ought not to trust to one single measurement of the image, but ought to repeat it at least six times; then add the six measures thus obtained together, and divide their sum by six, or the number of trials; the quotient will be the mean of all the trials. This result is to be placed in a column of a table, next to that which contains the number of the magnifiers. By the assistance of the sectoral scale, we obtain with ease a small part of an inch. This scale is shewn at Fig. 5, 6, 7. Plate II. A, in which the two lines c a c b, with the side a b, form an isosceles triangle; each of the sides is two inches long, and the base onetenth of an inch. The longer sides may be of any given length, and the base still only of onetenth of an inch. The longer lines may be considered as the line of lines upon a sector opened to onetenth of an inch. Hence, whatever number of equal parts ca cb are divided into, their transverse measure will be such a part of onetenth as is expressed by their divisions. Thus, if it be divided into ten equal parts, this will divide the inch into onehundred equal parts; the first division next c will be equal to onehundredth part of an inch, because it is the tenth part of onetenth of an inch. If these lines be divided into twenty equal parts, the inch will be by those means divided into two hundred equal parts. Lastly, if a b c a be made three inches long, and divided into onehundred equal parts, we obtain with ease the onethousandth part. The scale is represented as solid at Fig. 6, but as perforated at Fig. 5 and 7; so that the light passes through the aperture, when the sectoral part is placed on the stage. To use this scale, first fix the micrometer, Fig. 8. Plate II. A, to the body of the microscope; then fit the sectoral scale, Fig. 7, in the stage, and adjust the microscope to its proper focus or distance from the scale, which is to be moved till the base appears in the middle of the field of view; then bring the needle point g, Fig. 8, by turning the screw L, to touch one of the lines c a exactly at the point answering to 20 on the sectoral scale. The index a of the micrometer, Fig. 8, is to be set to the first division, and that on the dial plate to 20, which is both the beginning and end of its divisions; we are then prepared to find the magnifying power of every magnifier in the compound microscope which we are using. EXAMPLE. Every thing being prepared agreeable to the foregoing directions, suppose you are desirous of ascertaining the magnifying power of the lens marked No. 4; turn the micrometer screw, until the point of the needle has passed over the magnified image of the tenth part of one inch; then the division, where the two indices remain, will shew how many revolutions, and parts of a revolution, the screw has made, while the needle point traversed the magnified image of the onetenth of an inch; suppose the result to be twentysix revolutions of the screw, and fourteen parts of another revolution, this is equal to 26 multiplied by 20, added to 14; that is, 534 thousandth parts of an inch. The twentysix divisions found on the strait scale of the micrometer, while the point of the needle passed over the magnified image of onetenth part of an inch, were multiplied by 20, because the circular plate C D, Fig. 8, is divided into twenty equal parts; this produced 520; then adding the fourteen parts of the next revolution, we obtain 534 thousandth parts of an inch, or 5tenths and 34hundredth parts of another tenth, which is the measure of the magnified image of 1tenth of an inch, at the aperture of the eye glasses, or at their foci. Now if we suppose the focus of the two eyeglasses to be one inch, the double thereof is two inches; or if we reckon in the thousandth part of an inch, we have two thousand parts for the distance of the eye from the needle point of the micrometer. Again, if we take the distance of the image from the object at the stage at six inches, or six thousandths, and add thereto two thousand, double the distance of the focus of the eye glass, we shall have eight thousand parts of an inch for the distance of the eye from the object; and as from the proposition, page 51, we gather that the glasses double the image, we must double the number 534 found upon the micrometer, which then makes 1068: then, by the following analogy, we shall obtain the number of times the microscope magnifies the diameter of the object; say, as 240, the distance of the eye from the image of the object, is to 800, the distance of the eye from the object, so is 1068, double the measure found on the micrometer, to 3563, or the number of times the microscope magnifies the diameter of the object. By working in this manner, the magnifying power of each lens used with the compound microscope may be easily found, though the result will be different in different compound microscopes, varying, according to the combination of the lenses, their distance from the object, and one another, c. Having discovered the magnifying power of the microscope, with the different object lenses that are used therewith, our next subject is to find out the real size of the objects themselves, and their different parts; this is easily effected, by finding how many revolutions of the micrometerscrew answer to a known measure on the sectoral scale, or other object placed on the stage; from the number thus found, a table should be constructed, expressing the value of the different revolutions of the micrometer with that object lens, by which the primary number was obtained. Similar tables must be constructed for each object lens. By a set of tables of this kind, the observer may readily find the measure of any object he is examining; for he has only to make the needle point traverse over this object, and observe the number of revolutions the screw has made in its passage, and then look into his table for the real measure which corresponds to this number of revolutions, which is the measure required. ACCOUNT OF GLASS, PEARL, c. MICROMETERS, BY THE EDITOR. Having seen some glass, c. micrometers with exquisite fine divisions, for the purposes of applying to microscopes and telescopes; and in accuracy, being equivalent to the micrometer just described by our author, I judge, some account of their application and uses here will be very acceptable to the curious and inquisitive reader. A particular description of these as made by the ingenious Mr. Coventry, has been already given in the Encyclopdia Britannica, Vol. XI. p. 708. The singular dexterity which Mr. Coventry and others now possess, of cutting by an engine fine parallel lines upon glass, pearl, ivory, and brass, at such minute distances as, by means of a microscope, are proved to be from the 100th to the 5000dth part of an inch, render this sort of micrometer the easiest and most accurate means of obtaining the exact natural size of the object to be magnified, and how many times that object is magnified. Mr. B. Martin, and other opticians, many years ago applied divided slips of glass, ivory, and horn to the body, in the focus of the eye glass of microscopes; but the thickness of the whole medium of the glass was found to diminish the distinct view of the object: ivory and horn, from their variable texture, were found to expand and contract too readily to be commodious. It is therefore to Mr. Cavallo that we are indebted for the happy thought of adapting slips of divided pearl to telescopes, to ascertain their power, c. which substance the opticians now find to be the best for microscopical micrometers. It possesses a sufficient degree of transparency, when made about the thickness of writing paper; is a steady substance; admits very easily of the finest graduations, and is generally made in breadth about the 20th part of an inch. Fig. 9. Plate II. A, is a representation of this scale, with divisions of the 200ths of an inch, every fifth and tenth division being left longer than the others, which only go to about the middle. If the eye glass of the microscope or telescope, to which this micrometer is to be applied, magnify very much, its divisions may be proportionably minute. To measure by this micrometer the size of an object in a single microscope, nothing more is required than to lay it on the micrometer, and adjust it to the focus of the magnifier, noticing how many divisions it covers or coincides with. Supposing the parallel lines to be the 1000dths of an inch, and the object covers two divisions, its real size is the 500th of an inch; if five, 200th of an inch, c. To find how much the object is magnified, is not so easily done by the single, as by the compound microscope, as has been before explained. The following simple method has been adopted by Mr. Coventry, and which may be considered tolerably accurate. Adjust a micrometer under the microscope, suppose 100th of an inch of divisions, with a small object on it, if square, the better; notice how many divisions one side of the object covers, suppose ten; then cut a piece of white paper something larger than the magnified appearance of the object; fix one eye on the object through the microscope, and the other at the same time on the paper, lowering it down till the object and the paper appear level and distinct: then cut the paper till it appear exactly the size of the magnified object; the paper being then measured, suppose an inch square: now, as the object under the magnifier, which appeared to be one inch square, was in reality only ten hundredths, or the tenth of an inch, the experiment proves that it is magnified ten times in length, one hundred times in superficies, and one thousand times in cube, which is the magnifying power of the glass; and in the same manner a table may be made of the power of all the other glasses. In using the compound microscope, the real size of the object is found by the same method as in the single; but to demonstrate the magnifying power to greater certainty, adopt the following method. Lay a twofeet rule on the stage, and a micrometer level with its surface, (an inch suppose, divided into 100 parts:) with one eye see how many of those parts are contained in the field of the microscope, suppose 50; and with the other, at the same time, look for the circle of light in the field of the microscope, which with a little practice will soon appear distinct; mark how much of the rule, from the center of the stage, is intersected by the circle of light, which will be half the diameter of the field. Suppose eight inches; consequently the whole diameter will be sixteen. Now, as the real size of the field by the micrometers appeared to be only 50 hundredths, or half an inch, and as half an inch is only one 32d part of 16 inches, it shews the magnifying power to be 32 times in length, 1024 superficies, and 32768 in cube or bulk. For accuracy, as well as for comparative observations, the rule should always be a certain distance from the eye; eight inches in general is a proper distance. Another way, and the most easy for finding the magnifying power of compound microscopes, is by using two micrometers of the same divisions; one adjusted under the magnifier, the other fixed in the body of the microscope in the focus of the eye glass. Notice how many divisions of the micrometer in the body are seen in one division of the micrometer under the magnifier, which again must be multiplied by the power of the eye glass. Example: Ten divisions of the micrometer in the body are contained in one division under the magnifier; so far the power is increased ten times: now, if the eye glass be one inch focus, such glass will of itself magnify about eight times in length, which, with the ten times magnified before, will be eight times ten, or 80 times in length, 6400 superficies, and 512000 cube. Fig. 10. Plate II. A, represents the field of view of the compound microscope, with the pearl micrometer, as applied to the aperture in the body, called the eye stop; and a magnified micrometer that is laid on the stage, shewing that one of the latter contains ten of the former. A set of ivory and glass micrometers, about six in number, besides one or two pearl ones for the eye stops, are generally packed up with the best sort of microscopes made by Messrs. W. and S. Jones, Opticians, Holborn. They are divided into lines and squares, from the 100th to the 1000dth parts of an inch; and, besides measuring the magnifying powers of microscopes, are generally found useful in measuring the diameters, proportions, c. of opake and transparent objects, even of the minutest kind. The smallest divisions of the glass micrometer to be useful, are those divided into the 4000dth part of an inch; and as these may be crossed again with an equal number of lines in the same manner, they form squares of the SIXTEEN MILLIONTH part of an inch surface, each square of which appearing under the microscope true and distinct. And, even small as this is, animalcul are found so minute as to be contained in one of these squares! Glass micrometers with squares, applied to the solar microscope, divide the objects into squares on the screen in such a manner, as to render a drawing from it very easy; and are employed with great advantage in the lucernal microscope. The micrometers are constructed with moveable frames or tubes, so as to be either applied or taken away in the readiest manner. For the uses of the pearl micrometer as applied to the telescope, see Mr. Cavallos pamphlet descriptive of its use, 8vo. 1793, and the Philosophical Transactions for 1791. CHAP. III. A DESCRIPTION OF THE MOST APPROVED MICROSCOPES, AND THE METHOD OF USING THEM. In the preceding chapter I have endeavoured to give a comprehensive view of the theory of the microscope, and the principles on which the wonderful effects of this instrument depend. I shall now proceed to describe the various instruments themselves, their apparatus, and the most easy and ready mode of applying them to use; selecting for description those that, from some peculiar advantage in their construction, or from the reputation of the authors who have recommended and used them, are in most general use. What is said of these will, I hope, be sufficient to enable the reader to manage any other kind that may fall in his way. DESCRIPTION OF ADAMSS IMPROVED AND UNIVERSAL LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE. Fig. 1. Plate III. This microscope was originally thought of, and in part executed by my father; I have, however, so improved and altered it, both in construction and form, as to render it altogether a different instrument. The approbation it has received from the most experienced microscopic observers, as well as the great demand I have had for them, has fully repaid my pains and expenses, in bringing it to its present state of perfection. As the far greater part of the objects which surround us are opake, and very few sufficiently transparent to be examined by the common microscopes, an instrument that could be readily applied to the examination of opake objects, has always been a desideratum. Even in the examination of transparent objects, many of the fine and more curious portions are lost, and drowned as it were in the light which must be transmitted through them; while different parts of the same object appear only as dark lines or spots, because they are so opake, as not to permit any light to pass through them. These difficulties, as well as many more, are obviated in the lucernal microscope; by which opake objects of various sizes may be seen with ease and distinctness; the beautiful colours with which most of them are adorned, are rendered more brilliant, without in the least changing their natural teints. The concave and convex parts of an object retain also their proper form. The facility with which all opake objects are applied to this instrument is another considerable advantage, and almost peculiar to itself; as the texture and configuration of the more tender parts are often hurt by previous preparation, every object may be examined by this instrument, first as opake, and afterwards, if the texture will admit of it, as transparent. The lucernal microscope does not in the least fatigue the eye; the object appears like nature itself, giving ease to the sight, and pleasure to the mind: there is also in the use of this instrument, no occasion to shut that eye which is not directed to the object. A further advantage peculiar to this microscope is, that by it the outlines of every object may be taken, even by those who are not accustomed to draw; while those who can draw well, will receive great assistance, and execute their work with more accuracy, and in less time than they would otherwise have been able to have performed it in. Most of the designs for this work were taken with the lucernal microscope; and I hope the accuracy with which they are executed, will be deemed a sufficient testimony in favour of the instrument. In this point of view it will, I think, be found of great use to the anatomist, the botanist, the entomologist, c. as it will enable them not only to investigate the object of their researches, but to convey to others accurate delineations of the subject they wish to describe. By the addition of a tin lanthorn, transparent objects may be shewn on a screen, as by the solar microscope. Transparent objects may be examined with this instrument in three or four different modes; from a blaze of light almost too great for the eye to bear, to that which is perfectly easy to it. When this instrument is fitted up in the best way, it is generally accompanied with a small double and single microscope. Fig. 1. Plate III. represents the IMPROVED LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE, mounted to view opake objects; A B C D E is a large mahogany pyramidical box, about fourteen inches long, and six inches square at its larger end, which forms the body of the microscope; it is supported firmly on the brass pillar F G, by means of the socket H, and the curved piece I K. L M N is a guide for the eye, in order to direct it in the axis of the lenses; it consists of two brass tubes, one sliding within the other, and a vertical flat piece, at the top of which is the hole for the eye. The outer tube is seen at M N, the vertical piece is represented at L M. The inner tube may be pulled out, or pushed in, to adjust it to the focus of the glasses. The vertical piece may be raised or depressed, that the hole, through which the object is to be viewed, may coincide with the center of the field of view; it is fixed by a milled screw at M, which could not be shewn in this figure. At N is a dovetailed piece of brass, made to receive the dovetail at the end of the tubes M N, by which it is affixed to the wooden box A B C D E. The tubes M N may be removed from this box occasionally, for the convenience of packing it up in a less compass. O P a small tube on which the magnifiers are screwed. O one of the magnifiers; it is screwed into the end of a tube, which slides within the tube P; the tube P may be unscrewed occasionally from the wooden body. Q R S T V X a long square bar, which passes through the sockets Y Z, and carries the stage or frame that holds the objects; this bar may be moved backward or forward, in order to adjust it to the focus, by means of the pinion which is at a. b e is a handle furnished with an universal joint, for more conveniently turning the pinion. When the handle is removed, the nut, Fig. 2, may be used in its stead. d e is a brass bar, to support the curved piece K I, and keep the body A B firm and steady. f g h i is the stage for opake objects; it fits upon the bar Q R S T by means of the socket h i, and is brought nearer to, or removed farther from the magnifying lens, by turning the pinion a; the objects are placed in the front side of the stage, which cannot be seen in this figure, between four small brass plates; the edges of two of these are seen at k l. The two upper pieces of brass are moveable; they are fixed to a plate, which is acted on by a spiral spring that presses them down, and confines the slider with the objects; this plate, and the two upper pieces of brass, are lifted up by the small nut m. At the lower part of the stage, there is a glass semiglobe n, which is designed to receive the light from the lamp, Fig. 3, and to collect and convey it to the concave mirror o, from whence it is to be reflected on the object. The upper part, f g r S, of the opake stage takes out, that the stage for transparent objects may be inserted in its place. Fig. 4. represents the stage for transparent objects; the two legs 5 and 6, fit into the under part r S of the stage for opake objects; 7 is the part which confines or holds the sliders, and through which they are to be moved; 9 and 10 a brass tube, which contains the lenses for condensing the light, and throwing it upon the object; there is a second tube within that, marked 9 and 10, which may be placed at different distances from the object by the pin 11. When this stage is used as a single microscope, without any reference to the lucernal, the magnifiers or object lenses are to be screwed into the hole 12, and to be adjusted to a proper focus by the nut 13. N. B. At the end A B of the wooden body there is a slider, which is represented as partly drawn out at A; when quite taken out, three grooves will be perceived, one of which contains a board that forms the end of the box, the next contains a frame with a greyed glass; the third, or that farthest from the end A B, two large convex lenses. OF THE LAMP. Fig. 3, represents one of Argands lamps, which is the most suitable for microscopic purposes, on account of the clearness, the intensity, and the steadiness of the light. The following method of managing it, with other observations, is copied from an account given by Mr. Parker, with those he sells. The principle on which the lamp acts, consists in disposing the wick in thin parts, so that the air may come into contact with all the burning fuel, by which means, together with an increase of the current of air occasioned by rarefaction in the glass tube, the whole of the fuel is converted into flame. The wicks are circular, and, the more readily to regulate the quantity of light, are fixed on a brass collar with a wire handle, by means of which they are raised or depressed at pleasure. To fix the wick on, a wood mandril is contrived, which is tapered at one end, and has a groove turned at the other. The wick has a selvage at one end, which is to be put foremost on the mandril, and moved up to the groove; then putting the groove into the collar of the wickholder, the wick is easily pushed forward upon it. The wickholder and wick being put quite down in their place, the spare part of the wick should, while dry, be set alight, and suffered to burn to the edge of the tubes; this will leave it more even than by cutting, and, being black by burning, will be much easier lighted: for this reason, the black should never be intirely cut off. The lamp should be filled an hour or two before it is wanted, that the cotton may imbibe the oil, and draw the better. The lamps which have a reservoir and valve, need no other direction for filling, than to do it with a proper trimming pot, carefully observing when they are full; then pulling up the valve by the point, the reservoir being turned by the other hand, may be replaced without spilling a drop. Those lamps which fill in the front like a birdfountain, must be reclined on the back to fill, and this should be done gently, that the oil in the burner may return into the body when so placed and filled; if, by being too full, any oil appear above the guard, only move the lamp a little, and the oil will disappear; the lamp may then be placed erect, and the oil will flow to its proper level. The oil must be of the spermaceti kind, commonly called chamber oil, which may generally be distinguished by its paleness, transparency, and inoffensive scent; all those oils which are of a red and brown colour, and of an offensive smell, should be carefully avoided, as their glutinous parts clog the lamp, and the impurities in such oil not being inflammable, will accumulate and remain in the form of a crust on the wick. Seal oil is nearly as pale and sweet as chamber oil, but being of a heavy sluggish quality, is not proper for lamps with fine wicks. Whenever bad oil has been used, on changing it, the wick must also be changed, because, after having imbibed the coarse particles in its capillary tubes, it will not draw up the fine oil. To obtain the greatest degree of light, the wick should be trimmed exactly even, the flame will then be completely equal. There will be a great advantage in keeping the lamp clean, especially the burner and air tubes; the neglect of cleanliness in lamps is too common: a candlestick is generally cleaned every time it is used, so should a lamp; and if a candlestick is not to be objected to, because it does not give light after the candle is exhausted, so a lamp should not be thought ill of, if it does not give light when it wants oil or cotton; but this last has often happened, because the deficiency is less visible. The glass tubes are best cleaned with a piece of wash leather. If a fountain lamp be left partly filled with oil, it may be liable to overflow; this happens by the contraction of the air when cold, and its expansion by the warmth of a room, the rays of the sun, or the heat of the lamp when relighted: this accident may be effectually prevented by keeping the reservoir filled, the oil not being subject to expansion like air. On this account, those with a common reservoir are best adapted for microscopic purposes. TO EXAMINE OPAKE OBJECTS WITH THE LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE. The microscope is represented as mounted, and entirely ready for this purpose, in Fig. 1. Plate III. To render the use of this instrument easy, it is usually packed with as many of the parts together as possible; it occupies on this account rather more room, but is much less embarrassing to the observer, who has only three parts to put on after it is taken out of its box, namely, the guide for the eye, the stage, and the tube with its magnifier. But to be more particular, take out the wooden slide A, then lift out the cover and the grey glass from their respective grooves under the slide A. Put the end N of the guide for the eye L M N into its place, so that it may stand in the position which is represented in this figure. Place the socket, which is at the bottom of the opake stage, on the bar Q X T, so that the concave mirror o may be next the end D E of the wooden body. Screw the tubes P O into the end D E. The magnifier you intend to use is to be screwed on the end o of these tubes. The handle G b, or milled nut, Fig. 2, must be placed on the square end of the pinion a. Place the lamp lighted before the glass lump n, and the object you intend to examine between the spring plates of the stage, and the instrument is ready for use. In all microscopes, there are two circumstances which must be particularly attended to; the modification of the light, or the proper quantity to illuminate the object; secondly, the adjustment of the instrument to the focus of the glasses and the eye of the observer. In the use of the lucernal microscope there is a third circumstance, which is the regulation of the guide of the eye, each of which I shall consider by itself. 1. To throw the light upon the object. The flame of the lamp is to be placed rather below the center of the glass semiglobe n, and as near it as possible; the concave mirror o must be so inclined and turned, as to receive the light from the semiglobe; and reflect it thence upon the object; the best situation of the concave mirror, and the flame of the lamp, depends on a combination of circumstances, which a little practice will best point out. 2. To regulate the guide for the eye, or to place the center of the eye piece L, so that it may coincide with the focal point of the lenses, and the axis of vision. Lengthen and shorten the tubes M N by drawing out or pushing in the inner tube, and raising or depressing the eyepiece M L, till you find the large lens, which is placed at the end A B of the wooden body, filled by an uniform field of light, without any prismatic colours round the edge; for, till this piece be properly fixed, the circle of light will be very small, and only occupy a part of the lens; the eye must be kept at the center of the eyepiece L, during the whole of the operation; which may be rendered somewhat easier to the observer, on the first use of the instrument, if he hold a piece of white paper parallel to the large lenses, removing it from or bringing it nearer to them, till he finds the place where a lucid circle, which he will perceive on the paper, is brightest and most distinct, then to fix the center of the eyepiece to coincide with that spot; after which a very small adjustment will set it perfectly right. 3. To adjust the lenses to their focal distance. This is effected by turning the pinion a, the eye being at the same time at the eyepiece L. I often place the grey glass before the large lenses, while I am regulating the guide for the eye, and adjusting for the focal distance. If the observer, in the process of his examination of an object, advance rapidly from a shallow to a deep magnifier, he will save himself some labour by pulling out the internal tube at O. The upper part f g r s of the stage, is to be raised or lowered occasionally, in order to make the center of the object coincide with the center of the lens at O. To delineate objects, the grey or rough ground glass must be placed before the large lenses; the picture of the object will be formed on this glass, and the outline may be accurately taken, by going over the picture with a pencil. The opake part may be used in the daytime without a lamp, provided the large lenses at A B be screened from the light. TO USE THE LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE IN THE EXAMINATION OF TRANSPARENT OBJECTS. The microscope is to remain as before: the upper part f g r s of the opake stage must be removed, and the stage for transparent objects, represented at Fig. 4, put in its place; the end, Fig. 9 and 10, to be next the lamp. Place the rough glass in its groove at the end A B, and the objects in the sliderholder at the front of the stage; then transmit as strong a light as you are able on the object, which you will easily do, by raising or lowering the lamp. The object will be beautifully depicted on the rough glass: it must be regulated to the focus of the magnifier, by turning the pinion a. The object may be viewed either with or without the guide for the eye; a single observer will see an object to the greatest advantage by using this guide, which is to be adjusted as we have described, page 73. If two or three wish to examine the object at the same time, the guide for the eye must be laid aside. Take the large lens out of the groove, and receive the image on the rough glass; in this case the guide for the eye is of no use: if the rough glass be taken away, the image of the object may be represented on a paper screen.29 29 A tin cover is sometimes made to go over the glass chimney of the lamp, Fig. 3, with only a small square aperture in front, sufficient to suffer the rays to pass into the microscope: this, by excluding all extraneous rays, adds in many cases most materially to the effect, particularly by day, and when objects are to be represented on the rough glass or screen only. EDIT. Take out the rough glass, replace the large lenses, and use the guide for the eye; attend to the foregoing directions, and adjust the object to its proper focus. You will then see the object in a blaze of light almost too great for the eye, a circumstance that will be found very useful in the examination of particular objects; the edges of the object in this mode will be somewhat coloured, but as it is only used in this full light for occasional purposes, it has been thought better to leave this small imperfection, than by remedying it, to sacrifice greater advantages; the more so, as this fault is easily corrected, and a new and interesting view of the object is obtained, by turning the instrument out of the direct rays of light, and permitting them to pass through only in an oblique direction, by which the upper surface is in some degree illuminated, and the object is seen partly as opake, partly as transparent. It has been already observed, that the transparent objects might be placed between the sliderholders kl of the stage for opake objects, and then be examined as if opake. Some transparent objects appear to the greatest advantage when the lens at 9 and 10 is taken away; as, by giving too great a quantity of light, it renders the edges less sharp. The variety of views which may be taken of every object, by means of the improved lucernal microscope, will be found to be of great use to an accurate observer: it will give him an opportunity of correcting or confirming his discoveries, and investigating those parts in one mode, which are invisible in another. TO TRANSMIT THE IMAGE OF TRANSPARENT OBJECTS ON A SCREEN, AS BY THE SOLAR MICROSCOPE. It has been long a microscopical desideratum, to have an instrument by which the image of transparent objects might be shewn on a screen, as by the common solar microscope; and this not only because the sun is so uncertain in this climate, and the use of the solar microscope requires confinement in the finest part of the day, when time seldom hangs heavy on the rational mind, but as it also affords an increase of pleasure, by displaying its wonders to several persons at the same instant, without the least fatigue to the eye. This purpose is now effectually answered, by affixing the transparent stage, Fig. 4, of the lucernal to a lanthorn containing one of Argands lamps. The lamp is placed within the lanthorn, and the end 9, 10 of the transparent stage is screwed into a female screw, which is rivetted in the sliding part of the front of the lanthorn; the magnifying lenses are to be screwed into the hole represented at 12; they are adjusted by turning the milled nut. The quantity of light is to be regulated, by raising and lowering the sliding plate, or the lamp. N. B. This part, with its lanthorn and lamp, may be had separate from the lucernal microscope.30 30 This effect by the lanthorn and lamp is subject to much limitation in the field of view, or circle of light thrown upon the screen. A circle of not more than from 12 to about 15 inches can ever be obtained with any tolerable strength of light, to shew the most transparent sort of objects that can be found, such as the scale of a sole fish, a flys wing, c. The great difference between the light of the sun and a lamp is a natural obstacle to great performances in this way, and renders them far short of the effects of the solar microscope. The exhibition, however, is considerable, and much deserving of the notice of any observer disposed to this sort of apparatus. Probably, subsequent experiments may yet produce more light on this instrument. The best sort of apparatus for this purpose hitherto made, I shall describe in a following section. EDIT. APPARATUS WHICH USUALLY ACCOMPANIES THE IMPROVED LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE. The stage, Fig. 1, f g h i, for opake objects, with its glass semiglobe, and concave mirror, which is moveable upon the bar Q R S T, and set readily to any distance by the screw at a. The glasses o and n are also moveable upon the bar for regulating and adjusting the light upon the object. The stage, Fig. 4, for transparent objects, which fits on the upper part P S of the foregoing stage. When this is to be applied occasionally to a lanthorn for shewing transparent objects on a screen, c. it is made of a much larger diameter, to admit of the illuminating lenses at 9, 10, and 11, of greater power of condensing the rays from the lamp. The sliding tube O P, to which the magnifiers are to be affixed; one end of this is to be screwed on the end B of the wooden body; the magnifier in use is to be screwed to the other end on the inner tube. This tube slides inwards or outwards; it is first used to set the magnifier at nearly the right distance from the object, before the exact adjustment for the focus is made, by turning the pinion at a with Hooks joint and handle b e. Eight magnifying lenses in brass cells, Fig. 5. Plate III. these are so constructed that any two of them may be combined together, and thus produce a very great variety of magnifying powers. The cells unscrew to admit of the glasses being cleaned. A fishpan, such as is represented at Fig. 6, whereon a small fish may be fastened in order to view the circulation of its blood; its tail is to be spread across the oblong hole at the smallest end, and tied fast by means of the attached ribbon. The knob on its back is to be put through a slit hole on the brass piece, No. 5, of Fig. 4. The tail of the fish is to be brought then immediately before the magnifier. A steel wire, Fig. 7, with a pair of nippers at one end, and a steel point at the other; the wire slides backwards or forwards, in a spring tube which is affixed to a joint at the bottom, on which is a pin to fit the hole in the leg, No. 6, Fig. 4. This is used to confine small objects. A slider of brass, Fig. 8, containing a flat glass slider and a brass slider, into which are fitted some small concave glasses. It is for confining small living objects, and when used is placed between the two plates, No. 7, Fig. 4. A pair of forceps, Fig. 9, by which any occasional small object may be conveniently taken up. Six large ivory sliders, with transparent objects placed between two plates of talc, and confined by brass rings, and six small ditto with ditto. Fig. 10. The larger ones usually contain a set of Custances fine vegetable cuttings. Fourteen wood sliders, containing on each four opake objects, and two spare sliders for occasional objects; all fitted to the cheeks kl of the stage. Fig. 11. Some capillary tubes, Fig. 12, to receive small fish, and for viewing small animalcula. They are to be placed between the two plates of the stage No. 7, Fig. 4. A small ivory double box, containing spare plates of talc and brass rings, for replacing any in the small ivory sliders, when necessary. A single lens mounted in a tortoiseshell case, to examine minute objects previous to their being applied to the sliders. Opake objects are easily put on the spare sliders by a wetted wafer; and, for good security, gum water may be added. For the prices of the lucernal, as well as all the other sorts of microscopes, see the list annexed to these Essays. A DESCRIPTION OF THE SEVERAL IMPROVEMENTS MADE UPON MR. ADAMSS LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE. BY THE EDITOR. The lucernal microscope being unquestionably the only instrument for exhibiting all sorts of opake objects under a brilliant and magnified appearance, was, as formerly constructed by the late Mr. G. Adams, attended with some inconveniences and imperfections. Upon a proper inquiry into various improvements, and from some observations made by myself, I can recommend, as a complete instrument, one with the following emendations, being, in my opinion, the best of any hitherto made known. The lucernal microscope, when placed up for use, as represented in Fig. 1. Plate III. is of some considerable length. When the eye at L is viewing the image of the object upon the glasses, the objects themselves in the sliders placed at kl at the stage, are without the reach of the hand; so that the indispensible change of the parts of an object, or of one object to another, can only be obtained by the observers moving himself from the object to the eyepiece, and vice versa. This adjustment, therefore, proves uncertain and troublesome. The application of rackwork motion to the stage has been contrived and applied to the lucernal microscope by Mr. W. Jones, of Holborn, accompanied with Hookes joint and handle, and a lever rod; so that, without altering his position, the observer may change both the horizontal and vertical position of the sliders, and thereby readily investigate all the variety of the objects, and their parts, and with the same exactness as by other microscopes. For persons who may not wish to be at the expense of the lucernal, as formerly mounted by Mr. Adams, Mr. Jones has altered the manner of its support; which, as well as the other particulars, and the method of using it, may be understood from the following description. Plate IX. Fig. 3, is a representation of the instrument as placed up for use. AA, the top of a mahogany chest, about two feet long, thirteen inches and an half high, and eight inches broad, which serves both as a case to contain the instrument, and to support and preserve it steady when in use. A groove is cut in the top of the box, and another in the inside at the bottom, in both of which the base of the instrument is made to slide. When the instrument is placed inside, a long slip of mahogany slides in at the top, to secure the groove, and make the top perfect. Thus the instrument may be most readily slid out of its case, and then into the groove at top for use, and in much less time than by the brass frame and jointed stand adopted by Mr. Adams. Fig. 3 B, is the stage for the objects, with the condensing lens a, and concave mirror b, the same as in Mr. Adamss. C, the brass slider case for opake objects, with a rack cut into its lower edge, and which is turned by a pinion. To this pinion is applied an handle, D, with Hookes universal joint; this contrivance gives a certain horizontal motion to the objects while viewing. The stage at C is also made to slide vertically, and a leverrod or handle, E, to apply through the top, to bring the objects to a just height. Hence, by applying the left hand to the handle, E, and the right to the rod D, the adjustment or the changing of the objects, while under exhibition on the large lenses at F, is produced in the most convenient and accurate manner, and the observer has no occasion, for one slider, to shift from his seat or position. Rackwork might be applied to the vertical motion, but it is not essentially necessary; for when once the center of the slider is observed, there requires very little change from that position for the complete exhibition of the objects. The whole of the stage, with the lense and mirror, is fixed to a brass dovetailed slider at G, which slides in another brass piece fixed to the wooden slider or base of the instrument. A long brass rod, H, with an adjusting screw at its end, passes through the two brass pillars, K, K, to the stage at f, upon which it acts; and according as it is turned to the right or left hand while examining the objects, moves the objects nearer to or farther from the magnifiers screwed on at L, and produces the just distance for rendering the appearance of the objects the most distinct and brilliant upon the glasses at F. The management of the light from the lamp, through the lens, a, and from the concave mirror, b, to the objects, is exactly the same as before directed by Mr. Adams. For the exhibiting of transparent objects, the stage, C, is to be slid away, and the body, Fig. 4, applied in its place, in that position, with the large lens outwards next the lamp. The slider with the objects passes through at a, and the focus for the different magnifiers is adjusted by turning the long rod, D, to the right or left, as with the opake objects. In this case the lamp is to be raised to the center of the body of the microscope, or even with the magnifiers at L. The image of the objects may also, as in Mr. Adamss, be best received on the rough glass placed at F, for the simple reflected light through the body will sometimes be so strong, as to irritate the eye; the operator must, therefore, both modify that from the lamp, and place the roughed glass to his own ease and pleasure. The guide for the eye, N, in this instance is not necessary. Care being taken that the roughed glass at F be kept in as dark a situation as possible, there will be a certainty of a clear and welldefined view of the object. A tin chimney placed over the glass of the lamp about ten inches long, with a suitable aperture to admit the light to pass through it to the glasses, is of material service; it excludes all superfluous light from the eye of the observer, keeps the room sufficiently darkened, and enables the observer to view his object with the proper brilliancy. As a pleasing relief to the eye, the interposition of a small piece of blue or green glass at the sight hole, N, Mr. Jones has sometimes found necessary, but it gives rather a false teint to the colour of the objects. In the year 1789 the same artist applied a brass screw pillar and arm to the top of the box at O, on which is occasionally slid the condensing lens, a. The lamp being then applied at the side of the box at O, instead of the end, and the lens, a, moved to such a distance as to give the strongest possible light upon the opake objects at C; they were found to be more strongly illuminated by this simple refracted light than by the refracted and reflected light before used. Light is always somewhat diminished by reflection, although condensed; therefore, as it is sometimes best to view the objects from oblique reflected light, and sometimes from direct refracted, he constructs the apparatus so as to give the operator the means of easily using either. The dotted lines, O P, shew the manner that the glass semiglobe, a, is occasionally applied to refract or converge directly the light from the lamp to the objects on the stage. It is scarcely necessary to observe to the reader, the propriety of all the glasses of the apparatus being perfectly clean before the observations; for if, after being laid aside some time, or by dust, c. they should appear soiled, it will be necessary to wipe them previously with a piece of soft shammy leather usually sent in the box for that purpose, or a clean soft cloth. The two large lenses at F, Fig. 3, may be readily separated by turning aside the two brass screws that act upon a brass ring. From the various ingenious admirers of this sort of instrument, many improvements and alterations have been suggested; among several that have been communicated, those by the two following gentlemen appear to me the most deserving of notice, and which I shall leave to the readers judgment and experience. The Rev. John Prince, LL. D. now of Salem, Massachusets States, North America, a valuable correspondent and friend of our late author, transmitted to him an alteration in the construction; and of which I here insert the brief account, in nearly the words given by Mr. Adams. Dr. Prince applies a strong joint similar to that of a telescope at about the middle of the center part of the pyramidical box, and a sort of adjusting screw at the large end. The joint is nearly in the center of gravity, so that a very small motion is sufficient to bring any object less than an inch in diameter into the field of view. This motion is effected by two screws at right angles to each other; one screw raising or levelling the body, the other moving it sidewise, the screw at the same time forming a double joint to accommodate the parts to the movement.31 31 A figure of this, with an explanation, as recommended by Mr. John Hill, Wells, in Norfolk, may be seen in the Gentlemans Magazine, Vol. LXVI. 2d part, page 897. In this particular, as well as in the deviation from the parallel position of the glasses to the surfaces of the objects, I think the construction not so simple and perfect, as that by rackwork and pinion applied by Mr. Jones. Probably, Dr. Prince had not, at the time of his contriving the jointwork to the box, seen or heard of the other method. His subsequent contrivances shew real ingenuity; and to the inquisitive in this instrument, will afford much useful entertainment and advantage. To secure the image formed upon the rough glass more completely from the light, at times essentially necessary, there is a pyramidical mahogany box, of the same size, to pack, when not used, in the body of the microscope; when in use, the broad end of this screen box is to be slid into the groove, from which the exterior cover at the end has been taken. This method is peculiarly useful in the daytime; as, by screening the large lenses from the light, it may even then be used with satisfaction. One of the large lenses may occasionally be placed on the outer edge of the screen box, the other lens being taken out; the view on the rough glass is by these means magnified, and appears to greater advantage. But, besides the grey glass used in the former construction, there is a second in this, placed farther within the body, about half way; and, when the large lens is in the screen box, objects appear better in this than in the former way. It has a still greater effect upon those who are unacquainted with the nature of lenses, as it makes them judge the distance and magnitude much greater than they really are, and is therefore more pleasing than the grey glass in front. Only one grey glass can be used at a time; both being removed when opake objects are viewed. The stage, F, Fig. 5, is considerably different from that at C, Fig. 3; it is judged more convenient and commodious than the other, and serves, with a small alteration, for both transparent and opake objects. A truncated cone can also be here applied for cutting off superfluous rays of light occasionally. The method of illuminating the objects is also different. The mode now adopted answers better for opake and transparent objects, throws a stronger light, and is more convenient in application. It consists of two lenses, 1 and 2, Fig. 5; the larger one is to be placed at the end of the bar next the lamp. The smaller one to be adjusted so as to give a strong light. A third is also added, to be used occasionally with opake objects; it is to be applied close to the large lens. Experience will shew when it is to be used, or not. By moving the bar, G, on which these lenses are placed round the stage pillar, M, you bring it so much fronting the stage as effectually to enlighten opake objects by means of the lamp. The light thus afforded is received directly, and none lost by reflection. The objects are fixed on circular wheels of wood, see Fig. 7, the brass centers of which, are fitted to the hole, b, of the stage, Fig. 5; and about this center they are to be turned by the hand for the changing of the objects. As some objects, such as sections of wood, are seen to advantage both as transparent and opake, a frame containing a plane and a concave mirror is added to this instrument, serving two purposes: by bringing the bar to the front of the stage, removing the large lens, and putting the mirror in its place, the object may be viewed either way, without moving from the seat, by turning the instrument a little round. This experience will discover. The light of the sun may be thrown by the plane mirror on the condensing lens, so as to produce a strong full field of light on the grey glass. This has a grand effect when the large lens is at the end of the screen box, and could not be applied in this manner in former constructions. It becomes also an opake solar microscope, by turning the bar round to enlighten opake objects. By bringing the concave mirror to a focus that will burn objects, a set of very curious and entertaining experiments may be made and exhibited on the grey glass. The object for combustion should be put in the nippers, and a piece of slate tied as a ground on the stage. The ebullition of a piece of alum viewed in this manner is very beautiful; the bubbles, as they rise and pass off rapidly, appear tinged with all the colours of the rainbow. There are largesized magnifiers for the purpose of throwing transparent objects on a screen, in imitation of the solar microscope. By removing the large lenses in front and the grey glass, and placing the black tin cylinder represented in the drawing by dotted marks, over the lamp, they may be shewn in that manner to several persons; thus, this instrument in a great degree supersedes the use of a lanthorn. The image may be contracted occasionally by one of the large lenses. The following improvement consists in the manner of applying the lamp, by Mr. Hill. By attaching it to the instrument, it renders the light more permanent and steady, and reduces considerably the bulk as well as the trouble of this appendage, and is to be preferred when the lamp is not wanted separately for other uses or experiments. H, a brass support to the arm, G, for sustaining the weight of the lamp; it turns round with the bar on the pillar, M. At about I is a brass cap soldered to the above support, and which slips over the slider carrying the larger lens, 2. At K, is a strong joint connected with the said cap, and by which an horizontal motion of the cap is given, when an oblique light is required. To the end of this the lamp is fixed, and in such a manner as to admit of its being easily slid upwards or downwards in a perpendicular direction, to procure the just height of the flame. L is a square brass rod to be occasionally screwed into the reservoir of the lamp, for supporting the tin cylinder screen, when transparent objects are to be represented on a screen in a darkened room. The transparent microscope, part of the lucernal, is sometimes adapted to a large japanned tin lanthorn, such as represented at Fig. 6. A brass female screw is soldered to the front of the lanthorn, which has a motion upwards or downwards, fitted to the male screw of the transparent microscope. A tall chimney is placed at the top of the lanthorn to conduct the heated air from an Argands lamp withinside. The transparent objects in the sliders are magnified by the lenses screwed on at a, and shewn on the screen A; this screen may be about three feet square, of white paper, the objects on which, if represented in a field larger than twelve or eighteen inches, will not be sufficiently vivid. Mr. Jones has found that a large square glass, from twelve to sixteen inches in the side, rough ground on one of its surfaces, exhibits the objects the best of any other contrivance; answers tolerably well for opake objects, and gives the artist the means of tracing their figure most correctly on its surface. Such sort of objects he fixes upon slips of glass for that purpose, or applies them to a pair of nippers shewn at b, sent with the microscope. A concave silver speculum screws on at c, before the magnifiers, which reflects upon the objects the light that issues from the lamp through the body of the microscope. The least dimensions of the lanthorn are about ten inches square, and fourteen inches high. This microscope and lanthorn, when made as a separate apparatus from the lucernal, is called the LANTHORN MICROSCOPE. Its effect is considerably short of what is produced by the solar microscope, and not equal to what is much wished for in this manner of magnifying minute objects; see note, page 77. Partly from the improvements just described, Mr. Jones is now constructing a lucernal microscope that he conceives will be the most simple and perfect yet made. It could not be completed in time to be described in this work; but its improvement and advantages will be quite evident to any reader who has attended to the description which I have just given. DESCRIPTION OF CUFFS DOUBLECONSTRUCTED MICROSCOPE, REPRESENTED AT Fig. 1. Plate VII. A.32 32 The compound or double microscope is in more general use than any other sort. Besides its being less expensive than the lucernal or complete solar, it is found commodious and portable in the observers apartment, when only a confined degree of microscopical pursuit is intended, and that chiefly for a few hours amusement; it may be used both by day and night. In the most improved of this kind the objects appear magnified in a field of view from about 12 to 15 inches in diameter. It is better adapted to transparent than to opake objects, yet the latter may often be viewed to great advantage by the assistance of the suns rays or the light of a candle condensed on them. The intelligent reader, by attending to the accounts of the different microscopes described in this work, will be enabled to select that best adapted to the kind of objects he wishes to explore, and the manner in which he is desirous of having them exhibited. EDIT. This instrument was first described by Mr. Baker, and recommended by him. It was also described by my father in the fourth edition of his Micrographia Illustrata, page xix. A B C represents the body of this microscope; it contains an eyeglass at A, a large lens at B, and a magnifier which is screwed on at C, one of which is represented at Q. The body of the microscope is supported by the arm D E, from which it may be removed at pleasure. The arm D E is fixed on the sliding bar F, and may be raised or depressed to any height within its limits. The main pillar a b is fixed in the box b e, and by means of the brass foot d is screwed to the mahogany pedestal X Y, in which is a drawer containing all the apparatus. O, a milledheaded screw, to tighten the bar F when the adjusting screw c g is used. p q is the stage or plate which carries the objects; it has a hole at the center n. G, a concave mirror, that may be turned in any direction, to reflect the light of the candle, or the sky, upon the object. A LIST OF THE APPARATUS TO CUFFS DOUBLECONSTRUCTED MICROSCOPE.33 33 This microscope is made oftentimes with a joint at the bottom of the main pillar at e, to admit placing the instrument into any oblique situation, and connected to the bottom of a mahogany chest; on which account, it is by some of the instrument makers called the Chest Compound Microscope. EDIT. H, a convex lens, to collect the rays of light from the sun or a candle, and condense them on the object, or to magnify a flower or other large object placed upon the stage. L, a cylindrical tube, open at each side, with a concave silver speculum screwed to the lower end h. P, the sliderholder; it consists of a cylindrical tube, in which an inner tube is forced upwards by a spiral spring, it is used to receive an ivory slider K, which is to be slid between the plates h and i. The cylinder P fits the hole n in the stage: the hollow part at k is designed to receive a glass tube N. R is a brass cone, to be put under the bottom of the cylinder P, to intercept occasionally some of the rays of light. S, a box containing a concave and a flat glass, between which a small living insect may be confined; it is to be placed over the hole n. T, a flat glass to lay any occasional object upon; there is also a concave one u, for fluids. O, a long steel wire, with a small pair of pliers at one end, and a point at the other, designed to stick or hold objects; it slips backwards and forwards in the short tube o; the pin p fits into an hole m, in the stage for that purpose. W, a little round ivory box, to hold a supply of talc and rings for the sliders. Z, a hair brush, to wipe any dust off the glasses, or to take up by the other end a drop of any liquid. V, a small ivory cylinder, that fits on the pointed end of the steel wire O; it is designed for opake objects. Lightcoloured ones are to be stuck upon the dark side, and vice versa. Y, a common magnifying glass for any occasional purpose. M, a fishpan whereon to fasten a small fish, to view the circulation of the blood: the tail is to be spread across the oblong hole at the small end k, and tied fast by means of a ribband fixed thereto; the knob l is to be put through the slit made in the stage, and the tail may be brought under the magnifier. X is a wire to clean the glass tubes by. TO USE THIS MICROSCOPE. Screw the magnifier you intend to use to the end C of the body, place the sliderholder P in the hole n, and the ivory slider K with the object, between the plates h i of the sliderholder; set the upper edge of the bar D E to coincide with the division which corresponds to the magnifier you have in use, and tighten it by the milled nut O; now reflect a proper quantity of light upon the object, by means of the concave mirror G, and regulate the body exactly to the eye and the focus of the glasses by the adjusting screw c g, at the same time you are viewing the object. To view opake objects, take away the sliderholder P, and place the object on a flat glass u, under the center of the body, or on one end of the jointed nippers o. Then screw the silver concave speculum to the end of the cylinder L, and slide this cylinder on the lower part of the body, so that the upper edge thereof may coincide with the line which has the same mark with the magnifier that is then used; reflect the light from the concave mirror G to the silver speculum, from which it will be again reflected on the object. The glasses are to be adjusted to their focal distance as before directed. THE DESCRIPTION AND USE OF JONESS IMPROVED COMPOUND OR DOUBLE MICROSCOPES, REPRESENTED IN Fig. 1 AND 2. Plate IV. BY THE EDITOR. The chief imperfections of Cuffs microscope, as well as of others formerly made, are, their construction rendering them only compound microscopes, the body of the instrument having but a fixed position over the object, and the smallness of the field of view by the old construction of the glasses in the body. To obviate these defects, as well as for the application of material improvements, the late Messrs. Martin and Adams, and the present Messrs. W. and S. Jones, have constructed this kind of microscope in various ways. Two microscopes by the latter artists, which I am now going to describe, appear to me to be the best of any hitherto invented. Fig. 1 is a representation of the second best sort of compound microscopes. The improvements, though few in number, are essential to the use thereof. The field of view is considerably larger than in the former microscope. The stage and the mirrors are both moveable, so that their respective distances may be easily varied. The magnifiers may be moved about over the object. There is also a condensing glass, for increasing the density of the light, when it is reflected by the mirror from a candle or lamp. It is furnished with two mirrors, one plane and the other concave, and may likewise be used as a complete single microscope. A B, Fig. 1. represents the body of the microscope, containing a double eye glass, and a body glass; it is here shewn as screwed to the arm C D, from whence it may be occasionally removed, either for the convenience of packing, or when the instrument is to be used as a single microscope. The eye glasses and the body glasses are contained in a tube which fits into the exterior tube A B; by pulling out a little this tube, when the microscope is in use, the magnifying power of each lens is increased. The body A B of the microscope is supported by the arm C D; this arm is moveable in a square socket cut in the head that is connected to the main pillar E F, which is screwed firmly to the mahogany pedestal G H; there is a drawer to this pedestal, which holds the apparatus. This arm may be slid backwards and forwards in its socket, carrying the magnifiers and the body of glasses, and also turned horizontally quite round upon the pillar, giving a general motion all over the object on the stage below; which is a material improvement and advantage of this microscope over a similar one described in the former edition of this work, as any unavoidable motion of the living object to be viewed may be followed, by the observers hand moving the arm C D as the object changes its place. N I S is the plate or stage which carries the sliderholder K, this stage is moved up or down the pillar E F, by turning the milled nut M; this nut is fixed to a pinion, that works in a toothed rack cut on one side of the pillar. By means of this pinion the stage may be gradually raised or depressed, and the object adjusted to the focus of the different lenses. K is the sliderholder, which fits into a hole that is in the middle of the stage N I S; it is used to confine and guide either the motion of the sliders which contain the objects, or the glass tubes that are designed to confine small fishes, for viewing the circulation of the blood. The sliders and tubes are to be passed between the two upper plates. L is a brass tube, in the upper part of which is fixed the condensing lens before spoken of; it screws into the wire arm a, which is placed in the hole I of the stage, with the glass underneath, and may be set at different distances from the object, according to its distance from the mirror or the candle. O is the frame which holds the two reflecting mirrors, one of which is plane, the other concave. These mirrors may be moved in various directions, in order to reflect the light properly, by means of the pivots on which they move, in the semicircle Q, and the motion of the semicircle itself on the pin R; the concave mirror generally answers best in the daytime; the plane mirror combines better with the condensing lens in L, and a lamp or candle at night. At S is a hole and slit for receiving either the nippers b, or the fishpan c; when these are used, the sliderholder K must be removed. T, a hole to receive the pin of the convex lens and illuminator d. There are six magnifying lenses contained in a brass wheel screwed in a circular brass box P; this wheel is moveable about its center with the finger, and stops by a click when the magnifiers are each centrally under the body A B above, or the hole in the arm C D. They are marked from No. 1, to 6, and the proper number shewn in a small opening made in the side of the brass box. This wheel P screws into the arm C D, and may occasionally be taken off to admit of the silver speculum, or a single magnifier, hereafter to be described. There is a small line cut on the edge of the arm C D, which must be brought to the right hand edge of its socket, in order to center the magnifier to the body and the stage. By unscrewing the body A B, the single magnifiers in the wheel P being then only left, the instrument readily forms a single microscope. A small pocket hand single or opake microscope may easily be extracted from this apparatus. When the body A B is screwed off, and the arm C D slipt away from its frame with the wheel of magnifiers, and the forceps, wire, and joint b applied to it, by a hole made in the arm for that purpose, as represented at V, it is then ready for the examination of any small object that may present itself in the garden, c. and will be found very convenient whenever the whole instrument is not required. LIST OF APPARATUS GENERALLY MADE TO THIS MICROSCOPE. The wheel, with the magnifiers, P. Fig. 1. The body of the microscope, A B. The sliderholder, K. The tube, with the condensing lens L, to be used by candlelight. The pin and arm a, either for the above lens, or for the silver concave speculum e. The silver concave speculum e, fitted to the arm above, and used common to all the magnifiers in the wheel and body A B, it is to reflect the light from the concave or plane mirror O below, upon the opake objects, then called the compound opake microscope. A silver concave speculum f, with a single magnifier; it screws to the under part of the arm C D in room of the wheel of magnifiers, and forms then the single opake microscope. A brass cone g, to place under the stage N I S, and serves to diminish the reflected light when necessary. The jointed nippers b, fitted to the stage, to hold any small insect, or other opake object. A cylinder of ivory h, to fix on the pointed end of the nippers, black on one side and white on the other, to make a contrast to the opake object used. Six ivory sliders, i, each having four holes, and objects contained between two talcs confined together by brass circular wires. One of the sliders is usually sent without objects, to be supplied at pleasure. When used, they are placed between the perforated plates of the sliderholder K; where also is to be applied the brass frame slider k, containing in one brass piece four small concave glasses fixed; a narrow slip of glass slides over these, all within the frame; so that any very small living object, as a mite, c., may be viewed with the proper security. A set of glass tubes, l, three in number, to contain tadpoles, water newts, small frogs, eels, c. which are curious objects for affording a fine view of the circulation of the blood, c. They are also to be placed in the sliderholder K. There is a small hole at one end to admit air, the other end is to be stopped with cork, to contain the fluid and prevent the escape of the animal. A brass twisted wire is sent, to assist in the cleaning of these tubes. A small ivory box, m, containing talcs and wires to supply the ivory sliders with, should any be lost or damaged. A lens set in a brass cell, n, of such a focus as to view objects under a magnifying power sufficient for the applying them to the instrument for further inspection; hence it has been called the explorator. It may occasionally be screwed to the arm C D, and is then well adapted for viewing objects of the larger kind, or the whole of an insect, c. before the observing of it in part under the regular magnifiers. A concave, or a circular plane glass, o, for transparent objects, or animalcula in fluids, c. it is fitted to the side, I, of the stage. It is necessary to describe the lens and frame, d, noticed at page 95; it is either for converging the suns rays upon opake objects laid upon the stage, or for magnifying a flower, or other large objects applied to the stage, or on the nippers or point, b. By its pin and spring socket it is easily raised to any height, for the sun, candle, or the eye of the observer. A brass insect box, h, consisting of a concave and plane glass that screw close together; by means of which a louse, flea, c. may be secured, viewed alive, and retained for any time. It is applied to the hole I, of the stage, Fig. 1. A pair of small brass forceps, q, by which any small object may be conveniently taken up or moved. This microscope packs into a mahogany pyramidical shaped case, about seven inches square at its base, and fourteen inches in height. For its price, see the general list annexed to this work. TO USE THIS MICROSCOPE. It will be obvious to the reader from the preceding description that it must be put together as represented in the figure; that he has to place the sliderholder, K, to the stage, N I S, with one slider of objects; to reflect as strong a light as possible from the concave mirror, O, below, by turning it into the best position, and moving it upwards or downwards all the while he is looking down the body, A B. Then, for a distinct view of the object, to turn the pinion, M, in a slow and gentle manner. A small degree of practice will render the management very familiar. For opake objects, the sliderholder, K, is to be removed; the silver speculum, e, screwed to the arm, a, and by its pin placed in the hole, I, of the stage, with the concave part downward above the stage; the glass, o, or the nippers, b, with ivory, h, placed at the stage: then the light reflected from the mirror, O, up to the speculum above, which will again reflect the light very strongly upon the object. Practice also in this case can make it easy to the beginner. The use of the rest of the apparatus has been sufficiently explained. OF THE MOST IMPROVED COMPOUND MICROSCOPE, BEING UNIVERSAL IN ITS USES, AND FORMING THE SINGLE, COMPOUND, OPAKE, AND AQUATIC MICROSCOPES. A person much accustomed to observations by the microscope, will readily discern the several advantages of this instrument over the preceding one. Besides its containing an additional quantity of useful apparatus, it is more commodious and complete for the management while observing, as it may instantly be placed in a vertical, oblique, or horizontal situation, turned laterally at the ease of the observer, and the objects viewed by the primary direct light, or reflected as usual, at pleasure. These particulars the following description will clearly shew. I shall not again so fully describe the same apparatus, as the reader must already understand their uses from the preceding references. Fig. 2 is a representation of this instrument as placed up for use. A B is the compound body. The eyeglasses are contained in an inner tube that slides outwards or inwards, thus altering its distance from a glass at B, and thereby increasing or diminishing the magnifying power, when thought necessary. This body may be screwed on or off to the arm C D, as in the microscope just described; the arm C D may also be moved in any direction over the object. E F is the square stem or bar, on which is moved by the rackwork and pinion M, the stage N I S, to adjust a distinct view to any of the magnifiers, or apparatus used. V is a strong brass pillar with a jointpiece at top, connected to the stem E F; by means of this joint the position of the microscope is readily altered from a vertical to an oblique or horizontal one, as may be desired or found most easy and convenient to the observer, while sitting or standing; it will also enable him to view objects by direct unreflected light; for, when the stem, E F, is put into an horizontal position, the mirrors, O, R, may be drawn off and laid aside. Against or before the condensing lens, U, the common daylight or the light of a candle may then be directed. At the stage N I S, is a sliding brass spring, N, serving to confine down slips of glass or large sliders, when objects placed thereon are intended to be viewed out of the horizontal position of the stage. A lens, U, called the condensing lens, fixed in a frame connected to a socket, is for condensing and modifying the rays of light reflected from the concave or plane mirror, O, below; it may be set to a proper distance by raising it up by two little screws, one of which is shewn at u. This lens is of considerable use by candlelight, as it serves to fill the whole body, A B, beautifully with light on the object. It is turned aside on a joint pin, when not in use. Six magnifiers are contained in the wheel at P, as in the former microscope. The mirrors, O, below may also be slid upwards or downwards on the stem, by pushing against the screws at r. Thus the stage, lens U, and mirrors below, being all in one axis of motion, admit the adjustment of the distinct view, light, c. in the most accurate and pleasing manner. When the instrument is packed into its case, the feet, G G H, may all be folded together as one, and the body A B, screwed off, for the advantage of being portable. The body, as screwed off, leaves the instrument a single microscope. THE GENERAL APPARATUS TO THIS MICROSCOPE IS AS FOLLOWS. First, such as accompany the preceding microscope. The brass wheel with magnifiers, P, Fig. 2. The sliderholder, K. The brass pin and arm, a, for receiving the concave speculum, e, which is applied to the upper side of the stage, and used common to all the magnifiers. The silver concave speculum, f, with a magnifier set therein, used by itself in the arm C D. These two speculums form the instrument into what is called an OPAKE MICROSCOPE. A brass cone, g, fitting the under side of the stage, N I S, to exclude superfluous light. The illuminator, or convex lens, d, Fig. 1, fitted to T of the stage. The jointed nippers, b, fitted to the stage, and either on the point or nippers to hold any small insect, or other opake object. An ivory black and white piece, h, is also fitted to the point to contrast the colour of any object laid thereon; the light upon this is reflected from the silver concaves placed above, which reflect the light downwards received from the mirrors at O. Six ivory sliders as shewn at i, containing a selection of objects, placed between Muscovy talc, and fastened by spring wires; and a brass frame slider, k: all for the stage, K, when in use. A set of glass tubes for fish or liquids, l, to be filled with water and stopped with cork, for the sliderholder K. A pan, c, for fish or frogs, fitted to the stage at S. A small ivory box, m, with spare talcs and wires. The explorator, n, a lens set in a brass cell, for viewing the larger sort of objects either by the hand, or from the arm C D, Fig. 2. A plane glass, o, and a concave ditto, s, both fitted to the hole of the stage, N I S, for viewing fluids, and confining the animalcula, c. between them, and so forming what is called the AQUATIC MICROSCOPE. A brass box, p, with a concave and plane glass, for insects and other objects, fitted to the stage N I S, when they are to be examined by the instrument. A pair of brass forceps, q, to take or hold any object by. A camel hair brush, t. ADDITIONAL APPARATUS TO THIS BEST MICROSCOPE. Three large wood sliders, as shewn at X, with talcs and wires, for the larger sort of wings of flies, and other objects which are too large for the small ivory sliders, i; they are to be placed in the sliderholder K, when on the stage N I S, and the objects to be magnified either by the magnifiers in the wheel P, or the lens shewn at n, screwed on the arm C D. A brass cell, y, with a very small globule or lens, or an extraordinary great magnifier, usually about the 30th or 40th of an inch focus; it is to be screwed into the arm C D, when the wheel, P, is first unscrewed away. It is for the purpose of viewing extreme minute objects, which may be so small as to elude the power of the magnifiers in the wheel, P. A moveable stage, W, which by the pin, a, is applied to the hole, S, of the stage Fig. 2, and thereby has an horizontal motion under the whole field of view, without disturbing any other part of the instrument. To the large hole of this stage are fitted a deep concave glass, r, and the concave and plane glasses, s and o; and to the small holes, x x, a black and white piece of ivory, w, for opake objects, and a concave and plane glass similar to o and s. An extra concave silver speculum with a less magnifier than the other, as shewn at f, used for the larger kind of opake objects, like the other, fitted to the arm C D, and used instead of the magnifiers in the wheel, P. Rackwork is sometimes cut in the arm C D, to turn the pinion above, so as to move the magnifiers in a linear direction over the objects in the most accurate degree; and also the stage N I S jointed, to turn by a screw and teeth in an horizontal direction at right angles to the above, thereby rendering a slow and accurate motion, perfectly suitable to the various positions of any living animal under examination. Six or more larger ivory sliders, with cuttings of different woods, c. are also frequently added; but as these enhance the expense, and may be extended to the desire of the purchaser, his choice, and not my description here, will determine the extent of the apparatus to the microscope. When packed up into its mahogany, or black shagreen case, the outside dimensions are about twelve inches and an half long, nine inches broad, and three inches threequarters deep. A microscope from this plan is frequently made of smaller dimensions, for the convenience of persons who frequently travel, and is contained in a fishskin case about seven inches long, four inches and an half broad, and two inches deep, and is the most complete instrument of the sort. TO USE THIS MICROSCOPE. As in the former one, place the sliderholder K, with a slider of objects in it, in the stage N I S; move the arm C D, in its socket, so that a mark on the side is brought to the edge of the socket; then turn the arm till the magnifier is directly central over the object; look down the tube A B, and during that time, reflect the light strongly and clearly up into it from the mirror O below; and then, while you are looking through the body, gently turn the pinion at M to the right or left, till you see the object magnified in the most distinct and welldefined manner. Attending properly to this mode is the only care necessary to use any microscope whatsoever; and for want of doing which, many a beginner finds a difficulty in using properly his instrument. For price, see the list at the end. For opake objects, you take away the sliderholder, K; place on the stage either the concave glass, s, or the nippers, b; screw the concave speculum, e, to the arm, a, which place on the stage with the arm in the hole, I. The light is now to be reflected into this concave dish from one of the mirrors, O, below, and it will thus be strongly condensed upon the object. With this concave speculum any of the magnifiers in the wheel, P, may be used. When the single silver concave, f, is used, it is screwed to the arm C D, and the one, e, and arm, a, are not then applied. For further directions for the management of microscopes, the light, c. see Chap. IV. p. 129, and sequel. A DESCRIPTION OF CULPEPERS, OR THE COMMON THREEPILLARED MICROSCOPE. Plate IV. Fig. 3. The only recommendations of this original instrument are, its simple construction and lowness of price. It gives a pleasing view of the object. It is precluded by its form from some of the advantages of the two foregoing instruments, because both the stage and the mirror are confined. This microscope consists of a large exterior brass body, A B, supported on three brass scrolls, which are fixed to the stage F; the stage is supported by three larger scrolls that are screwed to the mahogany pedestal G H. There is a drawer in the pedestal which holds the apparatus. The concave mirror, I, is fitted to a socket in the center of the pedestal. The lower part, B, of the body forms an exterior tube, into which the upper part of the body, C, slides, and may be moved up or down by the hand, so as to bring the magnifiers which are screwed on at D, nearer to, or further from the object. A LIST OF THE APPARATUS TO CULPEPERS MICROSCOPE. Five magnifiers, each fitted in a brass cell; one of these is seen screwed on at D. Six ivory sliders, k, five of them with objects; and a small ivory box, m, containing some spare talcs, and wires for them. A brass tube, N, to hold the concave speculum. A brass box, M, for the same speculum. A fishpan, c. A set of glass tubes, b. A flat and a concave glass, both fitted to the stage. A brass cone, g, to exclude superfluous light; it applies at the under side of the stage, F. A brass box, p, with plane and concave glasses for living objects. A pair of forceps, q. A steel wire, b, with a pair of nippers at one end, a point at the other, and a small ivory cylinder, h, to fit on the pointed end of the nippers. A convex lens, E, moveable in a brass semicircle; this is affixed to a long brass pin, which fits into a hole, F, on the stage. The uses of the above apparatus have been sufficiently described in the preceding pages. TO USE THIS MICROSCOPE. Screw one of the five cells, which contains a magnifying lens, to the end, D, of the body; place the slider i or k, with the objects, between the plates of the sliderholder, K. Then, to attain distinct vision and a pleasing view of the object, adjust the sliding body to the focus of the lens you are using, by moving the upper part, C, gently up and down while you are looking at the object, and regulate the light by the concave mirror, I, below. The image of the objects in this microscope is seen in a field of view of about six inches in diameter; but, in the improved ones before described, it is from about twelve to fifteen inches. For opake objects, two additional pieces must be used; the first is a cylindrical tube of brass, represented at N, which fits on the cylindrical snout above D of the body: the second piece is the concave speculum, L; this is to be screwed to the lower end of the aforesaid tube. The upper edge of this tube should be made to coincide with the line which has the same number affixed to it as the magnifier you are using; that is, if you are making use of the magnifier marked 5, slide the tube to the circular line on the tube above D, that is marked also with No. 5. The sliderholder, K, should be removed when you are going to view opake objects, and a plane glass should be placed on the stage in its stead to receive the object; or it may be placed on the nippers, b, the pin of which fits into the hole in the stage. A DESCRIPTION OF MARTINS IMPROVED SOLAR MICROSCOPE, WHICH IS CONSTRUCTED TO EXHIBIT TRANSPARENT AND OPAKE OBJECTS. Plate V. The solar microscope is generally supposed to afford the most entertainment, on account of the wonderful extent of its magnifying power, and the ease with which several persons may view each single object at the same time. The use of it was, however, confined for many years only to transparent objects. About the year 1774, Mr. B. Martin so far improved this instrument, as to render it applicable to opake, as well as to transparent objects, exhibiting the magnified image of either kind on a large screen. Treating of it himself, he says34, With this instrument all opake objects, whether of the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom, may be exhibited in great perfection, in all their native beauty; the lights and shades, the prominences and cavities, and all the varieties of different hues, teints, and colours, heightened by the reflection of the solar rays condensed upon them. From its enlarged dimensions, transparent objects are also shewn with greater perfection than in the common solar microscope. 34 Description and Use of an Opake Solar Microscope. 8vo. 1774. Plate V. Fig. 1, represents the solar opake microscope, placed together for exhibiting opake objects. Fig. 2, is that part called the single tooth and pinion microscope, which is used for shewing transparent objects; the cylindrical tube, Y, thereof, being made to fit into the tube E F, Fig. 1. It may be occasionally used as a hand single, or Wilsons microscope, and for which purpose, the handle, c, is fitted by a screw to the body at g, and the tube, Y, screwed away. Fig. 3, the slider which contains the six magnifiers; it fits into a dovetail under P, Fig. 2, at the upper part of the microscope. Fig. 4 represents a brass dovetail slider, containing a small lens: it is called a condenser. There are three in number, marked 1 and 2, c. corresponding to the number of the magnifiers used: they serve to condense the suns rays strongly upon the object, and enlarge the circle of light. They slide in at h, Fig. 2. A B C D E F, Fig. 1, represents the body of the solar microscope; one part thereof, A B C D, is conical, the other, C D E F, is cylindrical. The cylindrical part receives the tube, G, of the opake object box, or the tube, Y, of the single microscope, Fig. 2. At the large end, A B, of the conical part there is a convex lens to receive the rays from the mirror, and refract them convergingly into the box, H I K L. N O P is a brass frame which is fixed to the moveable circular plate, a b c; in this frame there is a plane mirror, to reflect the solar rays through the aforementioned lens. This mirror may be moved into the proper positions for reflecting the solar rays, by means of rackwork turned by the nuts Q and R. By the nut Q, it may be moved from right to left; it maybe elevated or depressed by the nut, R. d e, two screws to fasten the microscope to a windowshutter, or a board fitted entirely before the window. The box for opake objects is represented as open at H I K L; it contains a plane mirror, M, for reflecting the light that it receives from the large lens to the object, and thereby illuminating it; S is a screw to adjust this mirror to its proper angle for reflecting the light. V X, two tubes of brass, one sliding within the other, the exterior one in the box, H I K L; these carry two magnifying lenses: the interior tube is sometimes taken out, and the exterior one is then used by itself. Part of this tube may be seen in the plate as within the box, H I K L. At H, is a brass plate, the back part of which is fixed to a tube, h, containing a spiral wire, which keeps the plate always bearing against the side, H, of the brass box H I K L. The sliders, with the opake objects, Fig. 5, pass between this plate and the side of the box; to apply which, the plate is to be drawn back by means of the nut, g. k i, a door to one side of the opake box, to be opened when adjusting the mirror, M. The foregoing pieces constitute the several parts necessary for viewing opake objects. We shall now proceed to describe the single microscope, which is used for transparent objects; but, in order to examine these, the box, H I K L, must be first removed, and in its place we must insert the tube, Y, of the single microscope, Fig. 2, now to be explained. Fig. 2 represents a large tooth and pinion microscope; at m, within the body of this microscope, are two thin plates that are to be separated, in order to let the ivory sliders, Fig. 7, pass between them; they are pressed together by a spiral spring, which bears up the under plate, and forces it against the upper one. The slider, Fig. 3, that contains the magnifiers, fits into a hole at n; any of the magnifiers may be placed before the object, by moving the aforesaid slider: when the magnifier is at the center of the hole P, a small spring falls into one of the notches which is on the side of the slider, Fig. 3. At h, slides a condenser, Fig. 4, for condensing the suns rays, and enlarging the field of view on the screen: the number must correspond with that of the magnifier used. This microscope is adjusted to the focus, while exhibiting the object, by turning the milled nut O. APPARATUS TO THE OPAKE SOLAR MICROSCOPE. The mirror O P, Fig. 1, and square plate, and the tubular body of the microscope, A F. The opake box and its tube, I K G. The tooth and pinion or single microscope, Fig. 2. The slider of magnifiers, Fig. 3. The megalascope magnifier, Fig. 6, fitted to P of Fig. 2. Six ivory sliders with transparent objects, Fig. 7. Twelve wood sliders with opake objects, and a brass frame to hold them, Fig. 5. A brass squareformed slider case, Fig. 8, to hold any animal, piece of ore, or other opake object, and is to be placed like the other slider at H, Fig. 1. A pair of nippers and point, Fig. 9, the pin, a, of which fits into the hole of the slider, Fig. 4, and holds before the magnifiers at P, Fig. 2, any small fly or other complete object to be magnified. A fourglass slider in a brass frame, Fig. 10, for any animalcula, c. to be placed between the plates at m, Fig. 2. A set of glass fish tubes, Fig. 11. A pair of forceps, Fig. 12. Two brass nuts for the windowshutter or board, Fig. 13; and the two brass fastening screws, d e, Fig. 1, which may be either used with or without the above two nuts. The figures on the plate are about half the original size, and the apparatus now made by Messrs. Jones packs into a case thirteen inches long, nine inches broad, and four inches deep. For price, see the list at the end. TO USE THE SOLAR MICROSCOPE. Make a round hole in a windowshutter or windowboard, that is opposite to the meridian sun, or as nearly so as possible, a little larger than the circle a b c; pass the mirror, N O P, through this hole, and apply the square plate to the shutter; then mark with a pencil the places which correspond to the two holes through which the screws are to pass; take away the microscope, and bore two holes at the marked places, large enough to admit the milled screws, d e, to pass through them. These screws are to pass from the outside of the shutter, to go through it, and being then screwed into their respective holes in the square plate, they will, when screwed home, hold it fast against the inside of the shutter, and thus support the microscope. Another way, and perhaps more convenient, is to previously screw the two brass nuts, Fig. 13, to the shutter or windowboard, at the inside at a suitable distance, to receive the two milled screws; these nuts will always be ready for use, and the operator may in a minute, within his room, fasten the plate, a b c, to the shutter by the two milled screws, being placed contrarywise. Screw the conical tube, A B C D, to the circle, a b c, and then slide the tube, G, of the opake box into the cylindrical part, C D E F, of the body, if opake objects are to be examined; but if transparent objects are intended to be shewn, then place the tube Y, Fig. 2, within the tube C D E F. The room is to be darkened as much as possible, that no light may enter but what passes through the body of the microscope; for, on this circumstance, together with the brightness of the sun, the perfection and distinctness of the image in a great measure depend. We shall first consider the microscope as going TO BE USED FOR OPAKE OBJECTS. Adjust the mirror, N O P, so as to receive the solar rays, by means of the two fingerscrews or nuts, Q, R; the first, Q, turns the mirror to the right or left; the second, R, raises or depresses it: this you are to do, till you have reflected the suns light through the lens at A B, strongly upon a whitepaper screen or cloth, from four to eight feet square (about the latter dimensions for transparent objects) placed from about five to eight feet distance from the window, and formed thereon a round spot of light: a white wainscot or wall at a suitable distance answers very well. An unexperienced observer will find it more convenient to obtain the light by first forming this spot, before he puts on either the opake box, or the tooth and pinion microscope, Fig. 2. Now apply the opake box, and place the object between the plates at H; open the door, k i, and adjust the mirror, M, till you see you have illuminated the object strongly. If you cannot effect this by the screw S, you must move the screws Q, R, in order to get the light reflected strongly from the mirror, N O P, on the mirror M; without which the latter cannot illuminate the object. The object being strongly illuminated, shut the door, k i, and a distinct view of the object will soon be obtained on your screen, by adjusting the tubes V X, with the magnifiers, which is effected by moving them backwards or forwards. A perfectly round spot of light cannot always be procured in northern latitudes, the altitude of the sun being often too low; neither can it be obtained when the sun is directly perpendicular to the front of the room. As the sun is continually changing its place, it will be necessary, in order to keep his rays full upon the object, to keep them continually directed through the axis of the instrument, by turning the two screws Q and R. To view transparent objects, remove the opake box, and insert the tube, Y, of Fig. 2, in its place; put the slider, Fig. 3, into its place at n, a condenser, Fig. 4, at h, and the slider with the objects between the plates at m; then adjust the mirror, N O P, as before directed, by the screws, Q, R, so that the light may pass through the object; regulate the focus of the magnifier by the pinion, O. The most pleasing magnifiers in use are the fourth and fifth. The size of the object is generally from four to eight feet, and may be increased or diminished by altering the distance of the screen from the microscope; five or six feet is a convenient distance. The effect by this sort of microscope is stupendous, and never fails to excite wonder in an observer at the first view, in seeing a flea, c. augmented in appearance to SEVEN, EIGHT, or even TEN FEET in length, with all its colours, motions, and animal functions, distinctly and beautifully exhibited. TO EXAMINE TRANSPARENT OBJECTS OF A LARGER SIZE, or to render the instrument what is usually called a megalascope, take out the slider, Fig. 3, from its place at n; screw the cell and lens, Fig. 6, into the hole at P, Fig. 2; remove the glass which is placed at h, and regulate the light and focus agreeable to the foregoing directions. At C D, is placed a lens for increasing the density of the rays, for the purpose of burning or melting any fusible substance; this lens must be removed in most cases, lest the objects should be burnt. The intensity of the light is also varied by moving the tube G, and Fig. 2, Y, inwards or outwards. DESCRIPTION OF THE TRANSPARENT SOLAR MICROSCOPE AND APPARATUS. Plate VI. Fig. 4, to 14. The foregoing description will, in great part, answer for this microscope; but, the dimensions, apparatus, c. varying in a small degree from the preceding, a distinct description here, may be acceptable to those, who possess this sort of microscope only. A B C D, Fig. 4, represents the body of the microscope, consisting of two brass tubes. E F is the end of the inner moveable tube; e f, that of the single tooth and pinion microscope. Fig. 5, screws into the end of this inner tube; at the end, A B, of the external tube there is a convex lens, to receive the suns rays from the mirror, K L, and to condense them on the object; the end, A B, screws into the circular plate, G H I. This part may also be used as a single microscope, and may have at m the handle, c, screwed to it. K L, a long frame fixed to the moveable circular plate, with a plane mirror, to reflect the rays of the sun on the lens at A B. An endless worm or screw, which is cut on the lower part of the nut, M, works in a small wheel which is fixed to the frame, K L, so that by turning the nut, the frame, K L, is moved up or down: the nut, N, moves the mirror to the right or left. O, P, two screws to fasten the square plate to the windowshutter. Fig. 5, the single microscope; e f, the end which screws on to the part, E F, Fig. 4, of the internal tube of the body; q, the dovetailed slit for receiving the slider, Fig. 8; g, the hole in which the megalascope magnifier, Fig. 6, is to be screwed, when the slider, Fig. 8, is removed. At h, are the moveable plates, between which the object sliders are placed; under the lowermost of these, the lens represented at Fig. 11 is to be placed, when the magnifiers in the slider, Fig. 8, are to be used, a k is a small piece of rackwork, which is moved backwards and forwards by the pinion fixed to the milled nut, b; by the gradual motion of this rack, the objects are adjusted to the foci of the different lenses. Fig. 8 is a brass slider, with six lenses, or magnifying glasses; it is to be inserted into the hole at q; either of the magnifiers may be placed before the object, by sliding it one way or the other: you may perceive when the glass is in the center of the eyehole by a small spring acting upon a notch which is made on the side of the slider opposite to each lens. APPARATUS BELONGING TO THIS SOLAR MICROSCOPE. Square plate and mirror. The body, A D, consisting of two tubes, one within the other. The single microscope, Fig. 5. The megalascope lens, Fig. 6. The slider, Fig. 8, with six lenses. The two screws O, P. Six ivory sliders and a talc box, Fig. 7 and 13. Some glass tubes, Fig. 9. A slider or brass case, Fig. 10, containing a plane piece of glass, and a brass slider with holes, into which are cemented small concave glasses, designed for confining minute insects between the plane and concave glasses, which are thus preserved from being crushed, or from moving out of the field of view. Three condensing lenses to enlarge the field of view, such as Fig. 11, that are fitted to the hole, l, of Fig. 5. Their numbers correspond with the numbers used. Fig. 12, two brass nuts for the windowshutter or board, to receive the two screws, O and P. TO USE THE TRANSPARENT SOLAR MICROSCOPE. Fasten the square plate against the inside of a windowshutter, by the two screws O, P, which are to go from the outside of the windowshutter through it, and then be screwed into their respective holes in the square plate at G H I. The mirror is to be on the outside of the shutter, passing through a hole made for that purpose. Darken the room; then place a screen at about six or eight feet distance from the window, the farther it is from it the larger is the image: now move the mirror, K L, by the two nuts M N, till the suns rays come through the instrument in an horizontal direction to the screen, forming a round spot thereon; screw the microscope, Fig. 5, into its place E F; put the slider with the lenses, Fig. 8, at q, Fig. 5, and the object slider between the plates at h; adjust the object to the focus of the magnifying lens by the screw b, till the object appears distinct and clear on the screen. By moving the internal tube of the body, the object may be placed at different distances from the lens which is fixed at A B, so as to be sufficiently illuminated, and not burnt by the solar rays. If the screws O, P, are to pass inside the room, the two nuts, Fig. 12, must be previously fixed. THE SCREW BARREL, OR WILSONS SINGLE POCKET MICROSCOPE. Plate II. B. Fig. 1 and 2. This microscope of Mr. Wilsons is an invention of many years standing, and was in some measure laid aside, till Dr. Lieberkhn introduced the solar apparatus to which he applied it, there being no other instrument at that time which would answer his purpose so well; it is much esteemed in particular cases. The body of the microscope is represented at A B, Fig. 1, and is made either of silver, brass, or ivory. C C is a long finethreaded male screw, that turns into the body of the microscope. D, a convex glass at the end of the said screw, on which may be placed, as occasion requires, one of the two concave apertures of thin brass to cover the said glass, and thereby diminish the aperture when the greatest magnifiers are used. E, three thin plates of brass within the body of the microscope, one whereof is bent to an arched cavity for the reception of a tube of glass. F, a piece of wood or brass, curved in the manner of the said plate, and fastened thereto. G, the other end of the microscope, where a female screw is adapted to receive the different magnifiers. H, a spiral spring of steel, between the said end, G, and the plates of brass, E, intended to keep the plates in a due position, and counteract against the long screw, C. I, a small ivory handle. To this microscope belong seven different magnifying glasses, six of which are set in cells, as in Fig. K, and are marked from 1, to 6: the lowest numbers to the greatest magnifiers. L is the seventh magnifier, set in the manner of a little barrel, to be held in the hand for viewing any large object. M is an ivory slider with the objects. Six of these, and one of brass, are usually sold with this microscope. There is also a brass slider not shewn in the figure, to confine any small object, that it may be viewed without crashing or destroying it. N, a pair of forceps, or pliers, for the taking up of insects or other objects, and applying them to the sliders or glasses. O, a camel hair brush, to take up and examine a small drop of liquid, brush the dust away, c. P is a glass tube to confine living objects, such as frogs, fishes, c. When you view an object, push the ivory slider, in which the said object is placed, between the two flat brass plates, observing always to put that side of the slider, where the brass rings are, farthest from the eye; then screw in the magnifying glass you intend to use at the end of the instrument G, and looking through it against the light, turn the long screw, C C, till your object is brought to appear distinct, or to the true focal distance. To examine any object accurately, view it first through a magnifier that will shew the whole at once, and afterwards inspect the several parts more particularly with one of the greatest magnifiers; for thus you will gain a true idea of the whole, and all its parts: and, though the greatest magnifiers can shew but a minute portion of any object at once, such as the claw of a flea, the horn of a louse, c. yet by gently moving the slider that contains your object, the eye will gradually see the whole; and if any part should be out of the focal distance, the screw, C C, will easily bring it to the true focus. As objects must be brought very near the glass, when the greatest magnifiers are used, be particularly careful not to rub the slider against the glasses as you move it in or out. A few turns of the screw, C C, will easily obviate this. DESCRIPTION OF A SCROLL FOR FIXING WILSONS POCKET MICROSCOPE, AND A MIRROR FOR REFLECTING LIGHT INTO IT. A B C, Fig. 2, is a brass scroll, which, for the better conveniency of carriage, is made to unscrew into three parts, and may be put into the drawer upon which it stands, with its reflecting mirror D, and Wilsons pocket microscope, G. The upper part of the scroll is taken off at B, by unscrewing half a turn of the screw; then, if lifted up, it will come out of the socket. The lower part unscrews at C, and the base at E. The mirror lifts out at F, which, with the scroll, lies in one partition of the box. To apply this scroll for use, fix the body of the microscope to the top thereof by the screw, A, as in Fig. 2, by screwing it in the same hole as the ivory handle was applied to before. The brass or ivory slider being fixed as before described, and the microscope placed in a perpendicular position, move the mirror, D, in such a manner as to reflect the light of the sky, of the sun, or a candle, directly upwards through the microscope; by which means the object will be most conveniently viewed. It is further useful for viewing opake objects, by screwing the arm, Q R, Fig. 1, into the body of the microscope at G; then screwing into the round hole, R, that magnifier which you think will best suit your object, and putting the concave speculum, S, on the outside of the ring, R, you will observe in the body of the microscope, between the wood or brass, F, and the end of the male screw, C C, a small hole, u, through which slides the long wire, T, which has a point at one end, and forceps at the other, that may be used occasionally as your objects require. When you have fixed this, and your object on it, turn the arm, R, till the magnifier is brought over the object; it may be then adjusted to the true focus, by turning the screw, as before. It must also be brought exactly over the speculum, by turning the upper part of the scroll to one side, till your object and the two specula are in one line, as will be found by trial; and then fix it by the screw, B, at which time the upper surface of the object will be enlightened by the light reflected from the mirror, D, to the concave speculum. DESCRIPTION OF A SMALL MICROSCOPE FOR OPAKE OBJECTS. Plate II. B. Fig. 3 and 4. A, Fig. 3, is a fixed arm, through which passes a screw, B, the other end is fastened to the moveable arm, C. D, a nut fitted to the said screw, which, when turned, will either separate or bring together the two arms, A C. E, a steel spring, that separates the two sides when the nut is unscrewed. F, a piece of brass turning round in a spring socket, moving on a rivet, in which moves a steel wire pointed at the end G, and the other end a pair of pliers, H: these are either to thrust into, or take up and hold any object, and may be turned round as required. I, a ring of brass, with a female screw fixed on an upright piece of the same metal, turning on a rivet, that it may be set at a due distance when the least magnifiers are used, and is adapted to the screws of all the magnifiers. Fig. 4, K, a concave speculum of polished silver, in the center of which a lens is placed. On the back of this speculum a male screw, L, is made to fit the brass ring I, Fig. 3. Four of these specula of different concavities, with four glasses of different magnifying powers, as the objects may require. The greatest magnifiers have the least apertures. M, a round object plate, one side white and the other black, intended to render objects the more visible, by placing them, if black, upon the white, and if white, on the black side. A steel spring, N, turns down on each side, to secure any object; from the object plate there is a hollow pipe, to screw it on the needles point G, Fig. 3. O, a small box of brass, with a glass on each side, to confine any living object in order to examine it, having a pipe to screw upon the end of the needle at G. P, an ivory handle. Q, a pair of pliers to take up any object. R, a soft hair brush. To view any object, screw the speculum, with the magnifier you intend to use, into the brass ring, I; place your object either on the needle G, in the pliers H, on the object plate M, or in the brass hollow box O, as may be most convenient; then holding up your instrument by the handle P, look against the light through the magnifying lens, and by means of the nut, D, together with moving of the needle at its lower end, the object may be turned about, raised or depressed, brought nearer the glass, or put farther from it, till you have the true focal distance, and the light be seen reflected from the speculum strongly upon the object.35 35 Opake microscopes are now constructed more elegantly and simply. The chief merit of Wilsons microscope appears, in being particularly adapted to minute objects, and these principally of the transparent kind; the barrel form is useful for excluding adventitious light. Excepting these peculiarities, its general utility is considered far short of the universal pocket microscope hereafter to be described. EDIT. OF ELLISS SINGLE OR AQUATIC MICROSCOPE. Plate VII. B. This instrument takes its name from Mr. John Ellis, author of An Essay towards a Natural History of Corallines, and of the Natural History of many curious and uncommon Zoophytes. By this instrument he was enabled to explain many singularities in the conomy and construction of these wonderful productions of nature. To the practical botanist this instrument is recommended by the respectable authority of Mr. Curtis, author of the Flora Londinensis, a work which does credit to the author and the nation. This microscope is simple in its construction, easy in its use, and very portable; these advantages, as well as some others which it also has over other portable microscopes, have accelerated the sale thereof, and caused it to be very much adopted. DESCRIPTION OF THE VARIOUS PARTS OF THE MICROSCOPE. K, the box which contains the whole apparatus; it is generally made of fishskin; on the top of the box there is a female screw, for receiving the screw which is at the bottom of the brass pillar A, and which is to be screwed on the top of the box, K. D, a brass pin which fits into the pillar; on the top of this pin is a hollow socket to receive the arm which carries the magnifiers; the pin is to be moved up and down, in order to adjust the lenses to their focal or proper distance from the object. In the representation of this microscope, Plate VII. B. Fig. 1, the pin, D, is delineated as passing through a socket at one side of the pillar, A; it is now usual to make it pass down a hole bored through the middle of the pillar. E, the bar which carries the magnifying lens; it fits into the socket, X, which is at the top of the pillar, D. This arm may be moved backwards and forwards in the socket X, and sidewise by the pin, D; so that the magnifier, which is screwed into the ring at the end, E, of this bar, may be easily made to traverse over any part of the object lying on the stage or plate B. F is a polished silver speculum, with a magnifying lens placed at the center thereof, which is perforated for this purpose. The silver speculum screws into the arm E, as at F. G, another speculum of a different concavity from the former, with its lens. H, the brass semicircle which supports the mirror, I; the pin, R, affixed to the semicircle, H, passes through the hole which is towards the bottom of the pillar, A. B, the stage or the plane on which the objects are to be placed; it fits into a small dovetailed arm which is at the upper end of the pillar, A. C, a plane glass, with a small piece of black silk stuck on it; this glass is fitted to a groove made in the stage, B. M, a deep concave glass, to be laid occasionally on the stage instead of the plane glass, C. L, a pair of nippers; these are fixed to the hole of the stage, a, by the pin K; the steel wire of these nippers slides backwards and forwards in the socket, and this socket is moveable upwards and downwards by means of the joint, so that the position of the object may be varied at pleasure. The object may be fixed in the nippers, stuck on the point, or affixed by a little gumwater, c. to the ivory cylinder, N. O, a small pair of brass forceps to take up minute objects by. P, a brush to clean the glasses. To use this microscope; begin by screwing the pillar, A, to the cover thereof; pass the pin, R, of the semicircle which carries the mirror through the hole that is near the bottom of the pillar, A; push the stage into the dovetail at B; slide the pin into the pillar, then pass the bar, E, through the socket, X, which is at the top of the pin D, and screw one of the magnifying lenses into the ring at F. Now place the object either on the stage, or in the nippers L, and in such a manner, that it may be as nearly as possible over the center of the stage; bring the speculum, F, over the part you mean to observe; then get as much light on the speculum as you can, by means of the mirror, I; the light received on the speculum is reflected by it on the object. The distance of the lens, F, from the object is regulated by moving the pin, D, up and down, until a distinct view of it is obtained. The rule usually observed is, to place the lens beyond its focal distance from the object, and then gradually slide it down, till the object appears sharp and well defined. The adjustment of the lenses to their foci, and the distribution of the light on the object, are what require the most attention. These microscopes are sometimes fitted up with a rack and pinion to the pillar A, and pin D, for the more ready adjustment of the glasses to their proper foci. DESCRIPTION OF LYONETS ANATOMICAL MICROSCOPE. Plate VI. Fig. 3. Fig. 3 represents the instrument with which M. Lyonet made his microscopical and wonderful dissection of the chenille de saule or caterpillar of the goat moth,36 of which a specimen is given in Plate XII. Fig. 1, c. of this work. This portable instrument needs no further recommendation. By it, other observers may be enabled to dissect insects in general with the same accuracy as M. Lyonet, and thus advance the knowledge of comparative anatomy, by which alone the characteristic, nature, and rank of animals, can be truly ascertained. 36 Phalna cossus. Linn. 63. A B is the anatomical table, which is supported by the pillar O N; this is screwed on the mahogany foot, D C. The table A B, is prevented from turning round by means of two steady pins; in this table or board there is a hole, G, which is exactly over the center of the mirror, F E, that is to reflect the light on the object; the hole, G, is, designed to receive a flat or a concave glass, on which the objects are to be placed that you design to examine or dissect. R X Z is an arm formed of several balls and sockets, by which means it may be moved in every possible position; it is fixed to the board by means of the screw, H; the last arm, I Z, has a female screw, into which a magnifier may be screwed, as at Z. By means of the screw, H, a small motion may be occasionally given to the arm I Z, for adjusting the lens with accuracy to its focal distance from the object. Another chain of balls is sometimes used, carrying a lens to throw light upon the object; the mirror is also so mounted, as to be taken from its place at K, and fitted on a clamp, by which it may be fixed to any part of the table, A B. TO USE THE DISSECTING TABLE. Let the operator sit with his left side near a light window; the instrument being placed on a firm table, the side, D L, towards his breast, the observations should be made with the left eye: this position is well adapted for observing, drawing, or writing. In dissecting, the two elbows are to be supported by the table on which the instrument rests, the hands resting against the board, A B, in order to give it greater stability, as a small shake, though imperceptible to the naked eye, is very visible in the microscope; the dissecting instruments are to be held one in each hand, between the thumb and two forefingers. Farther directions are given on the mode of dissecting small objects in the following chapter. DR. WITHERINGS BOTANICAL MICROSCOPE. Plate VI. Fig. 1. This small instrument consists of three brass parallel plates, A, B, C; two wires, D and E, are rivetted into the upper and lower plate; the middle plate or stage is moveable on the aforesaid wires, by two little sockets which are fixed to it. The two upper plates each contain a magnifying lens, but of different powers; one of these confines and keeps in their places the fine point F, the forceps G, and the small knife H. To use this instrument, unscrew the upper lens, and take out the point, the knife, and the forceps; then screw the lens on again, place the object on the stage, and then move it up or down till you have gained a distinct view of the object, as one lens is made of a shorter focus than the other; and spare lenses of a still deeper focus are sometimes added. The principal merit of this microscope is its simplicity. THE POCKET BOTANICAL AND UNIVERSAL MICROSCOPE. This pocket instrument is represented at Plate VI. Fig. 2. It is by most naturalists deemed preferable to Dr. Witherings, being equally simple, more extensive in its application, and the stage unincumbered; though that of M. Lyonet seems better adapted than either to the purposes of dissection only. A B, a small arm, carrying three magnifiers, two fixed to the upper part, as at B, the other to the lower part of the arm, at C; these may be used separately or combined together, by which you have seven powers. The arm, A B, is supported by the square pillar I K, the lower end of which fits into the socket, E, of the foot, F G; the stage, D L, is made to slide up and down the square pillar. H, a mirror for reflecting light on the object. To use this microscope, place the object on the stage, L, reflect the light on it from the mirror H, and regulate it to the focus, by moving the stage nearer to or further from the lenses at B C. The ivory sliders pass under the stage, L; other objects may be fixed in the nippers, M N, and then brought under the magnifiers; or they may be laid on one of the glasses fitted to the stage. The apparatus to this instrument consists of three ivory sliders, a pair of nippers, a pair of forceps, a flat glass, and a concave ditto, all fitted to the stage, L. By taking out the pin, M, the pillar, I K, may be turned half round, and the foot, F G, made to answer as an handle.37 37 An adjusting screw, Fig. 13, to move the stage, with other additions, are made by Messrs. Jones; and which then, in my opinion, constitute the most complete pocket microscope hitherto made; for the particulars of which, I refer the reader to their printed description. Fig. 14, represents the common flower or insect microscope. There are two lenses, a and b, that are used separately or conjointly. EDIT. BOTANICAL MAGNIFIERS. Since botany has been cultivated with so much ardor, it has been found necessary to contrive some very portable instrument, by which the botanist might investigate the object of his pursuits as it rises before him. Plate VIII. Fig. 7 and 8, represent two of the most convenient sort. In the tortoiseshell case, Fig. 7, three lenses are contained, d, e, f, of different foci, which are all made to turn into the case, and may be used combined or separately. The three lenses in themselves afford three different magnifying powers; by combining two and two, we make three more; and the three together make, a seventh magnifying power. When the three lenses are used together, it is best to turn them into the case, and look through the hole, for more distinctness, and the exclusion of superfluous light. In the case, Fig. 8, are also three lenses, g, h, i, of different magnifying powers, that all turn up, and shut into the case; but these are not capable of combination. DESCRIPTION OF A PORTABLE MICROSCOPE AND TELESCOPE. Plate VIII. Fig. 1, to 6. The telescope is one of those which are composed of several sliding drawers or tubes, for the convenience of being put into the pocket; the sliding tubes are made of thin brass, the outside tube of mahogany. The sliding tubes are contrived to stop, when drawn out to a proper length, so that by applying one hand to the outside tube, and the other hand to the end of the smallest tube, the telescope may at one pull be drawn out to its full length; then any of the tubes (that next the eye is most generally used) may be pushed in gradually, while you are looking through it, till the object is rendered distinct to the eye. To make the tubes slide properly, they all pass through short springs or tubes; these springs may be unscrewed from the ends of the sliding tubes, by means of the milled edges which project above the tubes, and the tubes taken from each other if required, and the springs set closer if at any time they be too weak. Fig. 5 represents the exterior tube of the telescope, which is to be unscrewed from the rest, at m l, as it does not make any part of the microscope; the cover, k, which protects the objectglass, serves also as a box to contain two ivory wheels, Fig. 1 and 2, with the objects, and a small mirror, Fig. 6. Fig. 4 is a view of this cover when taken off: unscrew the top part of it, and the mirror, Fig. 6, may be taken out; unscrew the cover of the lower part, and you will find therein the two circular objectwheels above mentioned. Fig. 3 represents the three internal tubes of the telescope, which constitute the microscopic part thereof. Draw the tubes out in the manner as shewn in the figure; then at the inside, but at the lower end of the exterior tube, a, you will find a short tube, which serves as a stage to hold the object and support the mirror; pull this tube partly out, and turn it, so that a circular hole which is pierced in it may coincide with a similar hole in the exterior tube. This tube is represented as drawn out at Fig. 3, the mirror, Fig. 6, placed therein at b c, and the transparent objectwheel fixed at a. Fig. 1 represents the slider with transparent objects. Fig. 2, that with the opake. They are made of ivory, and turn on a pin at the center; the slit end of this pin fits on the edge of the tube, which is then to be pushed up, so that the lower end of the exterior tube may bear lightly on the upper side of the slider, agreeable to the view which is given at a, Fig. 3. Now push down the second tube till the milled part falls on the milled edge of the extreme tube, being careful of the circular hole in the exterior one. Nothing now remains to be done but to adjust for the focus, which is effected by pushing in the tube R, and moving only the first, n. The instrument may be used in two ways for transparent objects: first, in a vertical position, when the light is to be thrown on the object by the mirror, b c; or it may be examined by looking up directly at the light; in the latter case the mirror must be taken away. In viewing opake objects the mirror is not used; as much light as possible must be admitted on them through the circular holes of the tubes. Any object may be viewed by first pushing in the tube, R, and then bringing the tube, n, to its focal distance from the object. The telescope, when shut up, is about eight inches in length, and when drawn out, is about twenty inches. It is of the achromatic construction. DESCRIPTION OF AN INSTRUMENT FOR CUTTING THIN TRANSVERSE SECTIONS OF WOOD, Plate IX. Fig. 1. It consists of a wooden base, which supports four brass pillars; on the top of the pillars is placed a flat piece of brass, near the middle of which there is a triangular hole. A sharp knife which moves in a diagonal direction, is fixed on the upper side of the aforementioned plate, and in such a manner, that the edge always coincides with the surface thereof. The knife is moved backwards and forwards by means of the handle, a. The piece of wood is placed in the triangular trough, which is under the brass plate, and is to be kept steady therein by a milled screw which is fitted to the trough; the wood is to be pressed forward for cutting, by the micrometer screw, b. The pieces of wood should be applied to this instrument immediately on being taken out of the ground, or else they should be soaked for some time in water, to soften them, so that they may not hurt the edge of the knife. When the edge of the knife is brought in contact with the piece of wood, a small quantity of spirit of wine should be poured on the surface of the wood, to prevent its curling up; it will also make it adhere to the knife, from which it may be removed by pressing a piece of blotting paper on it. Fig. 2, is an appendage to the cutting engine, which may be used instead of the micrometer screw, being by some practitioners preferred to it. It is placed over the triangular hole, and kept flat down upon the surface of the brass plate, while the piece of wood is pressed against a circular piece of brass which is on the under side of it. This circular piece of brass is fixed to a screw, by which its distance from the flat plate on which the knife moves may be regulated.38 38 Many other kinds of cutting engines have been constructed, but the specimens from them have not yet appeared with that perfection which is requisite to this sort of objects; whether it lies in the preparation of the woods, or engine, I do not take upon me to determine. Mr. Custance has certainly produced the most exquisite. EDIT. CHAP. IV. GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR USING THE MICROSCOPE AND PREPARING THE OBJECTS. As the advantages which are obtained from any instrument are considerably increased, if it be used by a person who is master of its properties, attentive to its adjustments, and habituated by practice to the minuti of management, it is the design of this chapter to point out those circumstances which more peculiarly require the attention of the observer, and to give such plain directions, as may enable him to examine any object with ease; to shew how he may place it in the best point of view, and if necessary, prepare it for observation. A small degree of diligence will render the observer master of every necessary rule, and a little practice will make them familiar and habitual: the pains he takes to acquire these habits will be rewarded by an increasing attachment to his instrument, and the wonders it displays. Let him only persevere till he has overcome the natural indolence that opposes the advancement of every kind of knowledge, and he will most assuredly find himself very amply recompensed, by the gratification arising from the acquisition of a science that has the unlimited treasures of INFINITE WISDOM for the object of its researches: and his mind being strengthened by the victory it has gained, will be more keen in perceiving, and more patient in the investigation of truth. It has long been a complaint,39 that many of those who purchase microscopes are so little acquainted with their general and extensive usefulness, and so much at a loss for objects to examine by them, that after diverting themselves and their friends some few times with what they find in the sliders, which generally accompany the instrument, or perhaps two or three common objects, the microscope is laid aside as of little further value: whereas no instrument has yet appeared in the world capable of affording so constant, various, and satisfactory an entertainment to the mind. This complaint will, I hope, be obviated by these Essays, in which I have endeavoured to make the use of the microscope easy, point out an immense variety of objects, and direct the observer how to prepare them for examination. 39 Bakers Microscope made Easy, p. 51. The subject treated of in this chapter naturally divides itself into three heads: the first describes the necessary preparation and adjustment of the microscope; the second treats of the proper quantity of the light, and the best method of adapting it to the objects under examination; and the third shews how to prepare and preserve the various objects, that their nature, organization, and texture, may be properly understood. OF THE NECESSARY PREPARATION OF THE MICROSCOPE FOR OBSERVATION. We have in the last chapter explained those particulars that constitute the difference of one microscope from another, and shewn the manner of using each instrument, and how the several parts are to be applied to it. We shall now proceed to give some general directions applicable to every microscope. The observer is therefore supposed to have made himself master of his instrument, and to know how to adapt the different parts of the apparatus to their proper places. The first circumstance necessary to be examined into, is, whether the different glasses belonging to the microscope are perfectly clean or not; if they be not clean, they must be taken out and wiped with a piece of wash leather, taking care at the same time not to soil the surface of the glass with the fingers: in replacing the glasses, you must also be careful not to lay them in an oblique situation, to place the convex sides as before, and if one glass be taken out, wiped, and replaced before the next, it may prevent the misplacing of them by an unskilful hand. The object should be brought as near the center of the field of view as possible, for there only will it be exhibited in the greatest perfection. The eye should be moved up and down from the eyeglass of a compound microscope, till you find that situation where the largest field, and most distinct view of the object is obtained; and as the sight differs very much in different persons, and even in the same person, we frequently find each eye to have a different sight from the other, particularly in those called myopes, or shortsighted, every one ought to adjust the microscope to his own eye, and not depend upon the situation in which it was placed by another. Care must be taken not to let the breath fall upon the eyeglass, nor to hold that part of the body of the microscope where the glasses are placed with a warm hand, because the damp that is expelled from the metal by the heat will be attracted and condensed by the glasses, and obstruct the sight of the object. The observer should always begin with a small magnifying power; with this he will gain an accurate idea of the situation and connection of the whole, and will therefore be less liable to form any erroneous opinion, when the parts are viewed separately by a deeper lens. By a shallow magnifier he will also discover those parts which merit a further investigation. Objects that are transparent will bear a much greater magnifying power than those that are opake. Every object should, if possible, be examined first in that position which is most natural to it: if this circumstance be neglected, very inadequate ideas of the structure of the whole, as well as of the connection and use of the parts, will be formed. If it be a living animal, care must be taken not to squeeze, hurt, or discompose it. There is a great difference between merely viewing an object by the microscope, and investigating its nature: in the first, we only consider the magnified representation thereof; in the second, we endeavour to analyse and discover its nature and relation to other objects. In the first case, we receive the impression of an image formed by the action of the glasses; in the second, we form our judgment by investigating this image. It is easy to view the image which is offered to the eye, but not so easy to form a judgment of the things that are seen; an extensive knowledge of the subject, great patience, and many experiments, will be found necessary for this purpose: for there are many circumstances where the images seen may be very similar, though originating from substances totally different; it is here the penetration of the observer will be exercised, to discover the difference, and avoid error.40 40 Fontana sur les Poisons, vol. ii, p. 245. Hence Mr. Baker cautions us against forming too suddenly an opinion of any microscopic object, and not to draw our inferences till after repeated experiments and examinations of the objects, in all lights and various positions; to pass no judgment upon things extended by force, or contracted by dryness, or in any manner out of a natural state, without making suitable allowances. The true colour of objects cannot be properly determined when viewed through the deepest magnifiers; for, as the pores and interstices of an object are enlarged, according to the magnifying power of the glasses made use of, the component parts of its substance will appear separated many thousand times farther asunder than they do to the naked eye; it is, therefore, very probable, that the reflection of the light from these particles will be very different, and exhibit different colours. Some consideration is also necessary in forming a judgment of the motion of living creatures, or even of fluids, when seen through the microscope; for as the moving body, and the space wherein it moves, are magnified, the motion will also be increased. If an object be so opake as not to suffer any light to pass through it, as much as possible must be thrown on its upper surface, by that part of the apparatus which is peculiarly adapted to opake objects. As the apertures of deep magnifiers are but small, and consequently admit but little light, they are not proper for the examination of opake objects: this, however, naturally leads us to our second head. OF THE MANAGEMENT OF THE LIGHT. The pleasure arising from a just view of a microscopic object, the distinctness of vision, c. depend on a due management of the light, and adapting the quantity of it to the nature of the object, and the focus of the magnifier; therefore, an object should always be viewed in various degrees of light. It is difficult to distinguish in some objects between a prominency and a depression, between a shadow and a black stain; and in colour, between a reflection and a whiteness; a truth which the reader will find fully exemplified in the examination of the eye of the libellula, and other flies, which will be found to appear exceedingly different in one position of the light from what they do in another. The brightness of an object depends on the quantity of light; the distinctness of vision, on regulating the quantity to the object; for some will be lost and drowned, as it were, in a quantity of light that is scarce sufficient to render another visible, as a different portion of light under the same apparatus will often exhibit in perfection, or totally conceal an object in the substance to be examined. This is more particularly the case with the animalcul infusori, whose thin and transparent form blend as it were with the water in which they swim; the degree of light must therefore be suited to the object, which, if dark, will be seen best in a strong and full light, but if very transparent, it should be examined in a fainter. A strong light may be thrown on an object various ways: first, by means of the sun and a convex lens; for this purpose, place the microscope about three feet from a southern window; take a deep convex lens, that is mounted in a semicircle and fixed on a stand, so that its position may be easily varied; place this lens between the object and the window, so that it may collect a considerable number of the solar rays, and refract them on the object, or the mirror of the microscope. If the light thus collected from the sun be too powerful, it may be tempered by placing a piece of oil paper, or a glass lightly greyed, between the object and the lens: by these means, a convenient degree of light may be obtained, and diffused in an equal manner over the whole surface of an object, a circumstance that should be particularly attended to; for if the light be thrown in an irregular manner, that is, larger portions of it on some parts than on others, it will not be distinctly exhibited. Where the solar light is preferred, it will be found very convenient to darken the room, and to reflect the rays of the sun on the above mentioned lens, by means of the mirror of a solar microscope fitted to the windowshutter; for, by this apparatus, the observer will be enabled to preserve the light on his object, notwithstanding the motion of the sun. Cutting off the adventitious light as much as possible, by darkening the room where you are using the microscope, and admitting the light only through a hole in the windowshutter, or at most, keeping one window only open, will also be found very conducive towards producing a distinct view of the object. As the motion of the sun, and the variable state of our atmosphere, render solar observations both tedious and inconvenient, it will be proper for the observer to be furnished with a large tin lanthorn, made something like the common magic lanthorn, fit to contain one of Argands lamps.41 The lanthorn should have an aperture in front, that may be moved up and down, and capable of holding a lens; by this a pleasing uniform dense light may be easily procured. The lamp should move on a rod, that it may be readily elevated or depressed. The lanthorn may be used for many other purposes, as for viewing of pictures, exhibiting microscopic objects on a screen, c. 41 The lamp should not be of the fountain kind, because the rarefaction of the air in the lanthorn will often force the oil over. Many transparent objects are seen best in a weak light; among these we may place the prepared eyes of flies and animalcul in fluids; the quantity of light from a lamp or candle may be lessened by removing the microscope to a greater distance from them, or it may be more effectually lessened by cutting off a part of the cone of rays that fall on the object, either by placing the cone, as already described with the apparatus to different microscopes, under the stage, or by forming circular apertures of black paper of different sizes, and placing either a large or small one on the reflecting mirror, as occasion may require. There is an oblique position of the mirrors, and consequently of the light, which is easily acquired by practice, but for which no general rule can be given, that will exhibit an object more beautifully and more distinctly than any other situation, shewing the surface, as well as those parts through which the light is transmitted. A better view of most objects is obtained by a candle or lamp than by daylight; it is more easy to modify the former than the latter, and to throw it on the object with different degrees of density. From what has been said, the reader will have observed the importance of being able to examine the object in the greatest variety of positions and appearances, which cannot be effected with equal convenience by any microscope, but the improved lucernal. OF THE PREPARATION OF OBJECTS FOR THE MICROSCOPE. In the preparation of objects, no man was more successful or more indefatigable than Swammerdam. In minutely anatomizing, in patiently investigating, and in curiously exhibiting the minute wonders of the creation, he stands unrivalled, far exceeding all those that preceded, as well as those which have succeeded him. Deeply impressed and warmly animated by the amazing scenes that he continually discovered, his zeal in pursuit of truth was not to be abated by disappointment, or alarmed by difficulty; and he was never satisfied till he had attained a rational and clear idea of the organization of the object, whose structure he wished to explore; his Book of Nature, of which a translation was published by Dr. Hill, is a work of such vast extent of knowledge, and so excellent in execution, as to raise the highest admiration in even a superficial observer. It is much to be regretted, that we are ignorant of the methods he employed in his investigations. To discover these, the great Boerhaave examined with a scrupulous attention all the letters and manuscripts of Swammerdam, and has communicated the result of his researches, which, though but small, may enable us to form some idea of his immense labours in the field of science. For dissecting of small insects he had a brass table, which was made by that excellent artist, S. Musschenbroeck; to this table were affixed two brass arms, moveable at pleasure to any part of it. The upper portion of these arms was constructed so as to have a slow vertical motion, by which means the operator could readily alter their height, as he saw most convenient to his purpose; the office of one of these arms was to hold the minute bodies, and that of the other to apply the lens or microscope. His microscopes or lenses were of various foci, diameters, and sizes, from the least to the greatest, and the best that could be procured in regard to the exactness of the workmanship, and transparency of the substance. His mode was, to begin his observations with the smallest magnifiers, and from thence proceed by degrees to the greatest. Formed by nature, and habituated by experience, he was so incomparably dexterous in the management of these instruments, that he made every observation subservient to the next, and all tend to confirm each other, and complete the description. His chief art seems to have been in constructing very fine scissars, and giving them an extreme sharpness: these he made use of to cut very minute objects, because they dissected them equally; whereas knives and lancets, let them be ever so fine and sharp, are apt to disorder delicate substances, as in going through them, they generally draw after and displace some of the filaments. His knives, lancets and styles, were so very fine, that he could not see to sharpen them without the assistance of a magnifying glass; but with them he could dissect the intestines of bees with the same accuracy and distinctness that the most celebrated anatomist does those of large animals. He was particularly expert in the management of small glass tubes, which were no thicker than a bristle, and drawn to a very fine point at one end, but thicker at the other. These he made use of to shew and blow up the smallest vessels discovered by the microscope, to trace, distinguish, and separate their courses and communications, or to inject them with very subtil coloured liquors. He used to suffocate the insects in spirit of wine, in water, or spirit of turpentine, and likewise preserved them for some time in these liquids; by which means he kept the parts from putrefaction, and consequently from collapsing and mixing together; and added to them besides such strength and firmness, as rendered the dissections more easy and agreeable. When he had divided transversely with his fine scissars the little creature he intended to examine, and had carefully noted every thing that appeared without further dissection, he then proceeded to extract the viscera in a very cautious and deliberate manner, with other instruments of great fineness; first taking care to wash away and separate with very fine pencils, the fat with which insects are very plentifully supplied, and which always prejudices the internal parts before it can be extracted. This operation is best performed upon insects while in the nympha state. Sometimes he put into water the delicate viscera of the insects he had suffocated; and then shaking them gently he procured himself an opportunity of examining them, especially the air vessels, which by these means he could separate from all the other parts whole and intire, to the great admiration of all those who beheld them; as these vessels are not to be distinctly seen in any other manner, or indeed seen at all without damaging them, he often made use of water, injected by a syringe, to cleanse thoroughly the internal parts, then blew them up with air and dried them, and thus rendered them durable, and fit for examination at a proper opportunity. Sometimes he has examined with the greatest success, and made the most important discoveries in insects that he had preserved in balsam, and kept for years together in that condition. Again, he has frequently made punctures in other insects with a very fine needle, and after squeezing out all their moisture through the holes made in this manner, he filled them with air, by means of very slender glass tubes, then dried them in the shade, and last of all anointed them with oil of spike, in which a little rosin had been dissolved; by which process they retained their proper forms a long time. He had a singular secret, whereby he could so preserve the nerves of insects, that they used to continue as limber and perspicuous as ever they had been. He used to make a small puncture or incision in the tail of worms, and after having gently and with great patience squeezed out all their humours, and great part of their viscera, he then injected them with wax, so as to give and continue to them all the appearance of healthy vigorous living creatures. He discovered that the fat of all insects was perfectly dissoluble in oil of turpentine; thus he was enabled to shew the viscera plainly; only after this dissolution he used to cleanse and wash them well and often in clean water. He frequently spent whole days in thus cleansing a single caterpillar of its fat, in order to discover the true construction of this insects heart. His singular sagacity in stripping off the skin of caterpillars that were upon the point of spinning their cones, deserves particular notice. This he effected by letting them drop by their threads into scalding water, and suddenly withdrawing them; for, by these means the epidermis peeled off very easily; and when this was done, he put them into distilled vinegar and spirit of wine, mixed together in equal portions, which, by giving a proper firmness to the parts, gave him an opportunity of separating them with very little trouble from the exuvi, or skins, without any danger to the parts; so that by this contrivance, the nymph could be shewn to be wrapped up in the caterpillar and the butterfly in the nymph. Those who look into the works of Swammerdam, will be abundantly gratified, whether they consider his astonishing labour and unremitted ardour in these pursuits, or his wonderful devotion and piety. On one hand, his genius urged him to examine the miracles of the great Creator in his natural, productions; whilst, on the other, the love of that same allperfect Being rooted in his mind struggled hard to persuade him that God alone, and not the creatures, were worthy of his researches, love, and attention. M. Lyonet always drowned first those insects he intended to anatomize, as by these means he was enabled to preserve both the softness and transparency of the parts. If the insect, c. be very small, for instance onetenth of an inch, or a little more in length, it should be dissected in water, on a glass which is a little concave; if, after a few days, there be any fear that the insect will putrefy, it should be placed in weak spirit of wine, instead of water. In order to fix the little creature, it must be suffered to dry, and then be fastened by a piece of soft wax; after which it may be again covered with water. Larger objects require a different process; they should be placed in a small trough of thin wood; the bottom of a common chip box will answer very well, by surrounding the edge of it with soft wax, to keep in the water or spirit of wine. The insect is then to be opened, and if the parts be soft, like those of a caterpillar, they should be turned back and fixed to the trough by small pins; the pins are to be set by a pair of small nippers, the skin being stretched at the same instant by another pair of finer forceps; the insect must then be placed in water, and dissected therein, and after two or three days it should be covered with spirit of wine, which should be renewed occasionally; by these means the subject is preserved in perfection, and its parts may be gradually unfolded, without any other change being perceived than that the soft elastic parts become stiff and opake, and some others lose their colour. M. Lyonet used the following instruments in his curious dissection of the caterpillar of the cossus. As small a pair of scissars as could be made, the arms long and fine; a small and sharp knife, the end brought to a point; a pair of forceps, the ends of which had been so adjusted, that they would easily lay hold of a spiders thread or a grain of sand. But the most useful instruments were two fine steel needles, fixed in small wooden handles, about 2 of an inch in length. An observation of Dr. Hookes may be very useful if attended to, for fixing objects intended to be delineated by the microscope. He found no creature more troublesome to draw than the ant or pismire, not being able to get the body quite in a natural posture. If, when alive, its feet were fettered with wax or glue, it would so twist and twine its body, that it was impossible any way to get a good view of it; if it was killed, the body was so small, that the shape was often spoiled before it could be examined. It is the nature of many minute bodies, when their life is destroyed, for the parts to shrivel up immediately; this is very observable in many small plants, as well as in insects; the surface of these small bodies, if porous, being affected by almost every change of the air, and this is particularly the case with the ant. But if the little creature be dropped in well rectified spirit or wine, it is immediately killed; and when taken out, the spirit of wine evaporates, leaving the animal dry and in its natural posture, or at least so constituted, that you may easily place it with a pin in what posture you please.42 42 Hookes Micrographia, p. 203. Having thus given a general account of the methods used by Swammerdam and Lyonet, in their examination and dissection of insects, we shall proceed to shew how to prepare several of their parts for the microscope, beginning with the WINGS. Many of these are so transparent and clear, as to require no previous preparation; but the under wings of those that are covered with elytra, or crustaceous cases, being constantly folded up when at rest, they must be unfolded before they can be examined by the microscope; for this purpose a considerable share of dexterity and some patience is necessary, for the natural spring of the wings is so strong, that they immediately fold themselves again, except they are carefully prevented. One of the most curious and beautiful wings of this kind, is that of the FORFICULA AURICULARIA, or EARWIG, of which we have given a drawing, Plate XIV. Fig. 1, represents it considerably magnified, and Fig. 2, the same object of its natural size. When expanded, it is a tolerably large wing, yet folds up under a case not oneeighth part of its size. It is very difficult to unfold these wings, on account of their curious texture. They are best opened immediately after the insect is killed. Hold the earwig by the thorax, between the finger and thumb; then with a bluntpointed pin endeavour gently to open the wing by spreading it over the forefinger, gradually sliding at the same time the thumb over it. When fully expanded, separate it from the insect by a sharp knife, or a pair of scissars. The wing should be pressed for some time between the thumb and finger before it be removed; it may then be placed between two pieces of paper, and again pressed for at least an hour; after which it may be put between the talcs without any danger of folding up again. The wings of the NOTONECTA, or BOATFLY, and other water insects, as well as most species of the grylli, require equal care and delicacy with that of the earwig to display them properly. The wings of BUTTERFLIES and MOTHS are covered with very minute scales or feathers, that afford a beautiful object for the microscope; near the shoulder, the thorax, the middle of the wing, and the fringes of the wings, they are generally intermixed with hair. The scales of one part, also, often differ in shape from those of another; they may be first scraped off or loosened from the wing with a knife, and then brushed into a piece of paper with a camels hair pencil; the scales may be separated from the hairs with the assistance of a common magnifying glass. The proboscis of insects, as of the CULEX or GNAT, the TABANUS or BREEZEFLY, c. requires much attention and considerable care to be dissected properly for the microscope; and many must be prepared before the observer desides upon the situation and shape of the parts; he will often also be able to unfold in one specimen some parts that he can scarce discover in another. It is well known that the COLLECTOR OF THE BEE forms a most beautiful object; a figure of it is given in plate XIII. Fig. 3, shews it greatly magnified, and Fig. 4, of the natural size. In it is displayed a most wonderful mechanism, admirably adapted to collect and extract the various sweets from flowers, c. To prepare this, it should first be carefully washed with spirit of turpentine, by which means it will be freed from the unctuous and melliferous particles which usually adhere to it; when dry, it must be again washed with a camels hair pencil, to disengage and bring forward the small hairs which form one part of its microscopic beauty. The case which encloses THE STING OF THE BEE, the wasp, and the hornet, are so hard, that it is very difficult to extract them without breaking or otherwise injuring them. It will be found, perhaps, the best way to soak the case, and the rest of the apparatus for some time in spirit of wine or turpentine, then lay it on a piece of clean paper, and with a blunt knife draw out the sting, holding the sheath by the nail of the finger, or by any blunt instrument; great care is requisite to preserve the feelers, which when cleaned add much to the beauty of the object. The EYES OF THE LIBELLULA or DRAGONFLY, and different flies, of the LOBSTER, c. are first to be cleaned from the blood and other extraneous matter; they should then be soaked in water for some days, after which you may separate one or two skins from the eye, which, if they remain, render it too opake and confused; some care is, however requisite in this separation, otherwise the skin may be made too thin, so as not to enable you to form an accurate idea of its organization. The EXUVI or CASTOFF OF SKINS of insects are in general very pleasing objects, and require but little preparation. If they be curled or bent up, keep them in a moist atmosphere for a few hours, and they will soon become so relaxed that you may extend them with ease to their natural positions. The steam of warm water answers the purpose very well. The BEARD OF THE LEPAS ANATIFERA or BARNACLE is to be soaked in clean soft water, and frequently brushed, while wet, with a camels hair pencil; it may then be left to dry; after which it must be again brushed with a dry pencil, to disengage and separate the hairs, which are apt to adhere together. A picture of this object is represented in plate XIII. Fig. 1, magnified; Fig. 2, natural size. To view the MUSCULAR FIBRES, take a very thin piece of dried flesh, lay it upon a slip of glass, and moisten it with warm water; when this is evaporated, the vessels will appear plain and more visible, and by repeated macerations the parts may be further disengaged. To examine FAT, BRAINS, and other similar substances, we are advised by Dr. Hooke to render the surface smooth, by pressing it between two thin plates of flat glass, by which the substance will be made much thinner and more transparent; otherwise, the parts lying thick one upon the other, it appears confused and indistinct. Some substances are, however, so organized, that if their peculiar form be altered, the parts we wish to discover are destroyed; such as nerves, tendons, muscular fibres, pith of wood, c. Many of these are best to be examined while floating in some convenient transparent fluid. For instance, very few of the fibres of any of the muscles can be discovered when they are viewed in the open air; but if placed in water or oil, great part of their wonderful fabric may be discovered. If the thread of a ligament be viewed in this manner, it will be seen to consist of an indefinite number of smooth round threads lying close together. Objects of an elastic nature should be pulled or stretched out while they are under the microscope, that the texture and nature of those parts, whose figure is altered by being thus pulled out, may be more fully discovered. To examine BONES with the microscope. These should first be viewed as opake objects; afterwards, by procuring thin sections, they should be looked at as if transparent. The sections should be cut in all directions, and be well washed and cleaned; a degree of maceration will be useful in some cases. Or the bones may be put in a clear fire till they are red hot, and then taken out; by these means the bony cells will appear more conspicuous and visible, being freed from extraneous matter. To examine the PORES OF THE SKIN. First, cut or pare off with a razor as thin a slice as possible of the upper skin; then cut a second from the same place; apply the last to the microscope. The SCALES OF FISH should be soaked in water for a few days, and then be carefully rubbed, to clean them from the skin and dirt which may adhere to them. To procure the scales of the eel, which are a great curiosity, and the more so, as the eel was not known to have any, till they were discovered by the microscope, take a piece of the skin of the eel that grows on the side, and while it is moist spread it on a piece of glass, that it may dry very smooth; when thus dried, the surface will appear all over dimpled or pitted by the scales, which lie under a sort of cuticle or thin skin; this skin may be raised with the sharp point of a penknife, together with the scales which will then easily slip out, and thus you may procure as many as you please.43 43 Martins Micrographia Nova, p. 29. On the lizard, the guana, c. are two skins; one of these is very transparent, the other is thicker and more opake; by separating these we procure two beautiful objects. The LEAVES of many trees, and some plants, when dissected, form a very pleasing object. To dissect them, take a few of the most perfect leaves you can find, and place them in a pan with clean water; let them remain three weeks or a month without changing the water, then take them up, and try if they feel very soft, and appear almost rotten; if so, they are sufficiently soaked. You are then to lay them on a flat board, and holding them by the stalk, draw the edge of the knife over the upper side of the leaf, which will take off most of the skin; turn the leaf, and do the same with the under side. When the skin is taken off on both sides, wash out the pulpy matter, and the fibres will be exhibited in a beautiful manner. By slitting the stalk you may separate the anatomized leaf into two parts. The skins that are peeled from the fibres will also make a very good object. The autumn is the best season for the foregoing operation, as the fibres of the leaves are much stronger at that season, and less liable to break. ORES and MINERALS should all be carefully washed and cleansed with a small brush, to remove any extraneous matter that may adhere to them. SHELLS may be ground down on a hone, by which their internal structure will be displayed. TO VIEW THE CIRCULATION AND EXAMINE THE PARTICLES OF THE BLOOD. The principal part the observer must aim at, in order to view the circulation of the blood, is to procure those small animals or insects that are most transparent, that by seeing through them he may be enabled to discover the internal motion. The particular kinds best adapted for the purpose will be enumerated in the descriptive catalogue at the end of this work. If a small eel be used for this purpose, it must be cleansed from the slime which covers it; after which it maybe put either in the fishpan, or a glass tube filled with water, and then placed under the microscope. If the eel be small enough, the circulation may be viewed in the most satisfactory manner. Leeuwenhoeck has given, in his 112th Epistle, an accurate description of the blood vessels in part of the tail of an eel. The same figure may also be seen in my fathers Micrographia Illustrata, fourth edition, Plate XVII. The tail of any other small fish may be applied in the same manner, or tied on a slip of flat glass, and be thus laid before the microscope. Flounders, eels, and gudgeons, are to be had at almost any time in London. N. B. By filling the tube with water, when an eel is used, it will in a great measure prevent the sliminess of the eel from soiling the glass. To view the particles of the blood, take a small drop of it when warm, and spread it as thin as possible upon a flat piece of glass. By diluting it a little with warm water, some of the larger particles will divide from the smaller, and many of them will be subdivided into still smaller; or a little drop of blood may be put into a capillary tube of glass, and be then presented before the microscope. Mr. Baker advises the mixing the blood with a little warm milk, which he says, will cause the unbroken particles to be very distinctly seen. But the most accurate observer of these particles was Mr. Hewson, and he says they have been termed globules with great impropriety, being in reality flat bodies. When we consider how many ingenious persons have been employed in examining the blood with the best microscopes, it appears surprizing that the figure of the particles should be mistaken; but the wonder is lessened when we reflect how many obvious things are overlooked, till our attention is particularly directed towards them; and besides, the blood in the human subject, and in quadrupeds, is so full of these particles, that it is with great difficulty they can be seen separate, until the blood is diluted. It was by discovering a proper method to effect this, that Mr. Hewson was indebted for his success. He diluted the particles with serum, in which they would remain undissolved, and as he could dilute them to any degree with the serum, he could easily examine the particles distinct from each other; for example, take a small quantity of the serum of the human blood, and shake a piece of crassamentum in it, till it be coloured a little with the red particles; then with a soft hair pencil spread a little of it on a piece of thin glass, and place this glass under the microscope, in such a manner as not to be quite horizontal, but rather higher at one end than the other; by which means the serum will flow from the higher to the lower extremity, and as it flows, some of the particles will be found to swim on their flat sides, and will appear to have a dark spot in the middle; others will turn over from one side to the other, as they roll down the glass. Several authors have described an apparatus for viewing the circulation of the blood in the mesentery of a frog; but as the cruelty attendant on these kinds of investigations would deprive the humane reader of a great part of the gratification which might otherwise result from them, he will probably rest satisfied with the accounts of such experiments to be met with in authors; especially as there is an abundant variety of objects on which he may exercise his ingenuity without sacrificing the nicer feelings of humanity.44 44 Whatever right mankind may claim over the lives of every creature that is placed in a subordinate rank of being to themselves, in respect of food and selfdefence, as well as for the improvement of science, and their judicious and ingenious application to the various purposes of use and ornament in human life, we certainly cannot, on the principles of reason and justice, assert a privilege to gratify a wanton curiosity, or the sports of an inordinate fancy, by the exercise of an unnecessary cruelty over them. The immortal SHAKSPEARE, in a passage which has often been quoted, says,  the poor beetle that we tread upon In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. It may, however, be doubted whether this particular instance is strictly conformable to fact; different animals certainly possess different degrees of sensibility, and some are consequently more susceptible of pain than others. It is a remarkable circumstance that the Hippobosca equina, or Horsefly, will live, run, nay even copulate, after being deprived of its head; most flies will survive that loss for some time, and the loss of a leg or two does not prevent their appearing as lively and alert as if they had sustained no injury. Many insects, on being caught, will freely and voluntarily part with their limbs to escape; and it is well known that lobsters shed their claws. Numbers of other instances might be adduced, but on this subject it may be prudent not to enlarge. Montaigne remarks, that there is a certain claim of kindness and benevolence which every species of creatures has a right to, from us. It is to be regretted, that this general maxim is not more attended to in the affairs of education, and pressed home upon tender minds in its full extent and latitude; the early delight which children discover in tormenting different animals should by all possible means be discouraged, as, by being unrestrained in such sports, they may at least acquire a habit of confirmed inattention to every kind of suffering but their own, if not progressively be led to the perpetration of more atrocious acts of cruelty. The supreme court of judicature at Athens thought an instance of this sort not below its cognizance, and punished a boy for putting out the eyes of a poor bird that had unhappily fallen into his hands; and the inimitable HOGARTH, the great painter of mankind, has in his Five Stages of Cruelty, admirably depicted the consequences which may result from an early indulgence of a propensity towards cruelty. In order to awaken as early as possible in the minds of children an extensive sense of humanity, it might be prudent to indulge them with a view of several sorts of insects as magnified by the microscope, and to explain to them that the same marks of divine wisdom prevail in the formation of the minutest insect, as in the most enormous leviathan; that they are equally furnished with whatever is necessary, not only for the preservation, but the happiness of their beings, in that class of existence which Providence has assigned them: in a word, that the whole construction of their respective organs distinctly and decisively, proclaims them the objects of divine benevolence, and therefore they justly ought to be so of ours. EDIT. OF ANIMALCULA IN INFUSIONS, C. These require little or no preparation. The first object is to procure them, the second, to render them visible by the microscope. A few observations, however, may be of use. Many drops of water may be examined before any can be found; so that if the observer be too hasty, he may be easily disappointed, though other parts of the same water may be fully peopled by them. The surface of infused liquors is generally covered with a thin pellicle, which is easily broken, but acquires thickness by standing; the greatest number of animalcula are generally to be found in this superficial film. In some cases it is necessary to dilute the infusions; but this is always to be done with distilled water, and that water should be examined in the microscope before it is made use of: the neglect of this precaution has been a source of many errors. Animalcula are in general better observed when the water is a little evaporated, as the eye is not confused, nor the attention diverted by a few objects. To separate one or two animalcula from the rest, place a small drop of water on the glass near that of the infusion; make a small neck or gutter between the two drops with a pin, which will join them together; then the instant you perceive that an animalculum has traversed the neck or gutter, and entered the drop, cut off the communication between the two drops. To procure the eels in paste, boil a little flower and water, till it becomes of a moderate consistence; expose it to the air in an open vessel, and beat it together from time to time, to prevent the surface thereof from growing hard or mouldy; after a few days, especially in summer time, it will turn sower, then if it be examined with attention, you will find myriads of eels on the surface. To preserve these eels all the year, you must keep the surface of the paste moist, by putting a little water or fresh paste from time to time to the other. Mr. Baker advises a drop or two of vinegar to be put into the paste now and then. The continual motion of the eels, while the surface is moist, will prevent the paste getting mouldy. Apply them to the microscope upon a slip of flat glass, first putting on it a drop of water, taken up by the head of a pin, for them to swim in. To make an infusion of pepper. Bruise as much common black pepper as will cover the bottom of an open jar, and lay it thereon about half an inch thick; pour as much soft water in the vessel as will rise about an inch above the pepper. The pepper and water are then to be well shaken together; after which they must not be stirred, but be left exposed to the air for a few days, when a thin pellicle will be formed on the surface of the water, containing millions of animalcula. The observer should be careful not to form a judgment of the nature, the use, and the operations of small animalcula, from ideas which he has acquired by considering the properties of larger animals: for, by the assistance of glasses, we are introduced as it were into a new world, and become acquainted not only with a few unknown animals, but with numerous species thereof, which are so singular in their formation and habits, that without the clearest proofs even their existence would not be credited; and while they afford fresh instances of the Creators power, they also give further proofs of the limits and weakness of the human understanding. DIRECTIONS FOR FINDING, FEEDING, AND PRESERVING THE POLYPES. These little animals are to be found upon all sorts of aquatic plants, upon branches of trees, pieces of board, rotten leaves, stones, and other substances that lie in the water; they are also to be met with upon the bodies of several aquatic animals, as on the watersnail, on several species of the monoculus, c. they generally fix themselves to these by their tail, so that it is a very good method when you are in search of the polypes, to take up a great many of these substances, and put them in a glass full of water. If there be any polypes adhering to these, you will soon perceive them stretching out their arms, especially if the glass be suffered to be at rest for a while; for the polypes, which contract themselves on being first taken out of the water, will soon extend again when they are at rest. They are to be sought for in the corners of ditches, puddles, and ponds, being frequently driven into these with the pieces of wood or leaves to which they have attached themselves. You may, therefore, search for them in vain at one period, in a place where at another they will be found in abundance. They are more easily perceived in a ditch when the sun shines on the bottom, than at another time. In winter they are seldom to be met with; about the month of May they begin to appear and increase. They are generally to be found in waters which move gently; for neither a rapid stream, nor stagnant waters ever abound with them. As they are always fixed to some substance by their tails, and are very rarely loose in the water, taking up water only can signify but little; a circumstance which has probably been the cause of much disappointment to those who have searched for them. The green polypes are usually about half an inch long when stretched out; those of the second and third sort are between three quarters of an inch and an inch in length, though some are to be found at times which are an inch and a half long. Heat and cold has the same effect upon these little creatures, that it has upon those of a larger size. They are animated and enlivened by heat, whereas cold renders them faint and languid; they should therefore be kept in such a degree of heat, that the water may not be below temperate. It is convenient for many experiments to suspend a polype from the surface of the water. To effect this, take a hair pencil in one hand, and hold a pointed quill in the other; with the pencil loosen the polype from the receiver in which it is kept, and gradually raise it near the top of the water, so that the anterior end may be next the point of the pencil; then lift it out of the water, and keep it so for a minute; after which, thrust the point of the pencil, together with the anterior end, by little and little under water, until no more than about the twentieth part of an inch of the polypes tail remains above its surface; at this instant, with the pointed quill remove that part of the polype from the pencil which is already in the water, at the same time blowing against the polype, by which it will be loosened, and remain out of the water. When the polypes were first discovered, Mr. Trembley had some difficulty to find out the food which was proper for them; but he soon discovered, that a small species of the millepede answered the purpose very well: the pulices aquatices have also been recommended. The small red worms, which are to be found on the mudbanks of the Thames, particularly near the shores, answer the purpose also, they are easily found when the tide is out, when they rise in such swarms on the surface of the mud, that it appears of a red colour. These worms are an excellent food for the polype. If a sufficient quantity be gathered in November, and put into a large glass full of water, with three or four inches of earth at the bottom, you will have a supply for the polypes all the winter. They may also be fed with common worms, with the larva of gnats and other insects, and even with butchers meat, c. if it be cut small enough. River, or any soft water, agrees with them; but that which is hard and sharp prevents their thriving, and generally kills them in a few days. The worms with which they are fed should be always cleansed before you feed the polypes with them. The polypes are commonly infested with little lice; from these it is necessary to free them, in order to preserve your polypes in a good state of health. They may be cleansed from the lice by rubbing them with a hair pencil; this cannot be easily done, unless they adhere to some substance: so that if they are suspended from the surface of the water, you must endeavour to get them to fix themselves to a piece of packthread; when they are fastened thereto, you may then rub them with a hair pencil, without loosening them from the thread. The lice which torment the polype are not only very numerous, but they are also very large proportionably to its size: they may be said to be nearly as large with respect to them, as a common beetle is to us. If not rubbed off, they soon cover their bodies, and in a little time totally destroy them. To preserve the polypes in health, it is also necessary often to change the water they are kept in, and particularly after they have done eating; it is not sufficient to pour the water off, all the polypes should be taken out, and the bottom and sides of the vessel rubbed from the slimy sediment adhering thereto; this is caused by their fces, and is fatal to them if not cleaned away. The fces often occasion a species of mortification, which daily increases; its progress may be stopped by cutting off the diseased part. To take them out, first loosen their tails from the sides or bottom of the glass; then take them up one by one, with a quill cut in the shape of a scoop, and place them in another glass with clean water; if they cling to the quill, let it remain a minute or two in the water, and they will soon disengage themselves. They are preserved best in large glasses that hold three or four quarts of water; for in a glass of this size the water need not be renewed so often, particularly, if the fces are taken out from time to time with the feathered end of a pen, to which they readily adhere; and further, the trouble of feeding each individual is in some measure saved, as you need only throw in a parcel of worms, and let the polypes divide them for themselves. To observe with accuracy the various habitudes, positions, c. of this little animal, it will be necessary to place some of them in narrow cylindrical glasses; then, by means of the microscope, Fig. 3. Plate VI. you may observe them exerting all their actions of life with ease and convenience; the facility with which the lens of the forementioned microscope may be moved and placed in any direction, renders it a most convenient instrument for examining any object that requires to be viewed in water. It is also very proper to dry some of them, and place them between talcs in a slider; this, however requires some dexterity and a little practice; though, when executed with success, it fully rewards the pains of the observer. Choose a proper polype, and put it into a small concave lens, with a drop of water; when it is extended, and the tail fixed, pour off a little of the water, and then plunge it with the concave into some spirit of wine contained in the bowl of a large spoon; by this it is instantly killed, the arms and body contracting more or less; rub it gently while in the spirit with a small hair pencil, to cleanse it from the lice. The difficulty now begins; for the parts of the polype, on being taken out of the spirit, immediately cling together, so that it is not practicable to extend the body, and separate the arms on the talc, without tearing them to pieces; therefore the only method is, to adjust them upon the talc while in the spirit: this may be done by slipping the talc under the body of the polype, while it lies in the spirit, and displaying its arms thereon by the small hair pencil and a pair of nippers; then lift the talc, with the polype upon it, out of the spirit; take hold of it with the nippers in the left hand, dip the pencil in the spirit with the right hand, and therewith dispose of the several parts, that they may lie in a convenient manner, at the same time brushing away any lice that may be seen upon the talc; now let it dry, which it does in a little time, and place the talc carefully in the hole of the slider. To prevent the upper talc and ring pressing on the polype, you must cut three pieces of cork, about the bigness of a pins head, and the depth of the polype, and fix them by gum in a triangular position, partly on the edges of the said talc, and partly to the sides of the ivory hole itself; the upper talc may then be laid on these corks, and pressed down by the ring as usual.45 45 Baker on the Polypes. OF VEGETABLES. It were to be wished a satisfactory account could here be given of all the preparations which are requisite to fit for the microscope the objects of the vegetable kingdom. Dr. Hill is the only writer who has handled this subject. I shall, therefore, extract from his Treatise on the Construction of Timber, what he has said; this, together with the improvements I have made on the cutting engine, will enable the reader to pursue the subject and extend it further, both for his own pleasure, and the advantage of the public. THE MANNER OF OBTAINING THE PARTS OF A SHOOT SEPARATE. In the beginning of April, take a quantity of young branches from the scarlet oak, and other trees. These are first cut into lengths, of the growth of different seasons; and then part is left entire, part split, and the rest quartered. In this state they are put into a wicker basket, with large openings, or of loose work, and a heavy stone is put in with them; a rope is tied to the handle of the basket, and it is thrown into a brook of running water: at times it is taken up, and exposed a little to the air; it is frequently shook about under water, to wash off filth; and once in ten days the sticks are examined. By degrees the parts loosen from one another, and by gentle rubbing in a bason of water just warmed, they will be so far separated, that a pencil brush will perfect the business, and afford pieces of various sizes, pure, distinct, and clean. One part will in this way separate at one time, and another, at another; but by turning the sticks to the water, and repeating the operation, in the course of four or five weeks every part may be obtained distinct. They are best examined immediately; but if any one wish to preserve them for repeated inquiries, it may be done in this manner: dissolve half an ounce of alum in two quarts of water; drop the pieces thus separated, for a few moments, into this solution, then dry them upon paper, and put them up in vials of spirit of wine, no other fluid being so well adapted to preserve these tender bodies. TO PREPARE THE RIND FOR OBSERVATION. As the vessels of the rind are of different diameters in various trees, though their construction and that of the blebs is perfectly the same in all, it will be best to choose for this purpose the rind of a tree wherein they are largest. The rind of the ashleaved maple is finely suited. A piece of this may be obtained of two inches long, and will very successfully answer the intention. Such a piece being prepared without alum or spirit, but dried from the water in which it had been macerated, it is to be impregnated with lead in the following manner, to shew the apertures by their colour. Dissolve one drachm of sugar of lead in an ounce and an half of water; filter this through paper, and pour it into a teacup. Clip off a thin slice of what was the lower end of the piece of rind as it grew on the tree, and plunge it near an inch deep into the liquor; keep it upright between two pieces of stick, so that one half or more may be above the water; whelm a wineandwater glass over the teacup, and set the whole in a warm place. When it has stood two days, take it out, clip off all that part which was in the liquor, and throw it away. The circumstances here mentioned, trivial as they may seem, must be attended to: the operation will not succeed, even if the coveringglass be omitted; it keeps a moist atmosphere about the rind, and makes its vessels supple. While this is standing, put into a bason two ounces of quick lime, and an ounce of orpiment; pour upon them a pint and an half of boiling water; stir the whole together, and when it has stood a day and a night, it will be fit for use. This is the liquor probatorius vini of some of the German chymists; it discovers lead when wines are adulterated with it, and will shew it any where. Put a little of this liquor in a teacup, and plunge the piece of rind half way into it. In the former part of this experiment, the vessels of the rind have been filled with a solution of lead, that makes of itself no visible alteration in them; but this colourless impregnation, when the orpiment lixivium gets to it, becomes of a deep brown; the vessels themselves appear somewhat the darker for it; but these dots, which are real openings, are now plainly seen to be such, the colour being perfectly visible in them, and much darker than in the vessels. This object must be always viewed dry. If a piece of the rind, thus impregnated, be gently rubbed between the fingers, till the parts are separated, we shall be able in one place or other, to get a view of the vessels all round, and of the films which form the blebs between them. Every part of the rind, and every coat of it, even the interstitial place between its innermost coat and bark, are filled with a fine fluid. The very course and progress of the fluid may be shewn in this part, even by an easy preparation; only that different rinds must be sought for this purpose, the vessels in some being larger than in others. Repeated trials have shewn me that the whole progress may be easily marked in the three following kinds, with only a tincture of cochineal. Put half an ounce of cochineal, in powder, into half a pint of spirit of wine; set it in a warm place, and shake it often for four days; then filter off the clear tincture. Put an inch depth of this into a cup, and set upright in it pieces of the rind of ash, white willow, and ozier, prepared as has been directed, by maceration in water; for in that way one trouble serves for an hundred kinds. Let an inch of the rinds also stand up out of the tincture. After twentyfour hours take them out, clip off the part which was immersed in the fluid, and save the rest for observation. TO PREPARE THE BLEA. Cut the pieces in a fit season, either just before the first leaves of Spring, or in the Midsummer shooting time. Then we see all the wonders of the structure; the thousands of mouths which open throughout the course of these innumerable vessels, to pour their fluid into the interstitial matter. These vessels, which are in nature cisterns of sap for the feeding the growth of the whole tree, are so large, that they are capable of being filled with coloured wax, in the manner of the vessels in anatomical injections; and this way they present pleasing objects for the microscope, and afford excellent opportunities of tracing their course and structure. A METHOD OF FILLING THE SAP VESSELS OF PLANTS. A great many shoots of the scarlet and other oaks are to be taken off in the Spring; they must be cut into pieces of about two inches in length, and immediately from the cutting they must drop into some warm rain water: in this they are to stand twentyfour hours, and then be boiled a little. When taken out, they are to be tied on strings, and hung up in a place where the air passes freely, but the sun does not shine. When they are perfectly dry, a large quantity of green wax, such as is used for the seals of law deeds, is to be gently melted in an earthen pipkin set in water; the water to be heated and kept boiling. As soon as the wax runs, the sticks are to be put in, and they are frequently to be stirred about. They must be kept in this state about an hour, and then the pipkin is to be taken out of the water, and set upon a naked fire, where it is to be kept with the wax boiling for two or three hours; fresh supplies of the same wax being added from time to time. After this it is to be removed from the fire, and the sticks immediately taken out with a pair of nippers; when they are cold, the rough wax about them is to be broken off. Both ends of each stick are to be cut off half an inch long, and thrown away, and the middle pieces saved. These are then to be cut in smaller lengths, smoothed at the ends with a fine chissel, and many of them split in various thicknesses. Thus are obtained preparations, not only of great use, but of wonderful beauty. Many trees this way afford handsome objects as well as the oak; and in some, where the sap vessels are few, large, and distinct, the split pieces resemble striped satins, in a way scarce to be credited. It is in such that the outer coats of these vessels are most happily of all to be examined. THE METHOD OF PREPARING SALTS AND SALINE SUBSTANCES, FOR THE VIEWING THEIR CONFIGURATIONS. Dissolve the subject to be examined in no larger a quantity of river or rain water than is sufficient to saturate it; if it be a body easily dissoluble, make use of cold water, otherwise make the water warm or hot, or even boiling, according as you find it necessary. After it is perfectly dissolved, let it rest for some hours, till, if overcharged, the redundant saline particles are precipitated, and settle at the bottom, or shoot into crystals; by which means you are most likely to have a solution of the same strength at one time as at another; that is, a solution fully charged with as much as it can hold up, and no more; and by these precautions the configurations appear alike, how often soever tried: whereas, if the water be less saturated, the proportions, at different times, will be subject to more uncertainty; and if it be examined before such separation and precipitation of the redundant salts, little more will be seen than a confused mass of crystals. The solution being thus prepared, take up a drop of it with a goose quill, cut in fashion of a scoop, and place it on a flat slip of glass, of about three quarters of an inch in width, and between three and four inches long, spreading it on the glass with the quill, in either a round or oval figure, till it appears a quarter of an inch or more in diameter, and so shallow as to rise very little above the surface of the glass. When it is so disposed, hold it as level as you can over the clear part of a fire that is not too fierce, or over the flame of a candle, at a distance proportionable to the degree of heat it requires, which experience only can direct, and watch it very carefully till you discover the saline particles beginning to gather and look white, or of some other colour, at the extremities of the edges; then having adjusted the microscope beforehand for its reception, armed with the fourth glass, which is the fittest for most of these experiments, place it under your eye, and bring it exactly to the focus of the magnifier; and after running over the whole drop, fix your attention on that side where you observe any increase or pushing forwards of crystalline matter from the circumference towards the center. This motion is extremely slow at the beginning, unless the drop has been overheated, but quickens as the water evaporates, and in many kinds, towards the conclusion, produces configurations with a swiftness inconceivable, composed of an infinity of parts, which are adjusted to each other with an elegance, regularity, and order, beyond what the exactest pencil in the world, guided by the ruler and compass, can ever equal, or the most luxurious imagination fancy. When action once begins, the eye cannot be taken off, even for a moment, without losing something worth observation; for the figures alter every instant, till the whole process is over; and in many sorts, after all seems at an end, new forms arise, different entirely from any that appeared before, and which probably are owing to some small quantity of salt of another kind, which the other separates from, and leaves to act after itself has done; and in some subjects three or four different sorts are observable, few or none being simple and homogeneous. When the configurations are fully formed, and all the water evaporated, most kinds of them are soon destroyed again by the moisture or action of the air upon them; their points and angles lose their sharpness, become uneven and defaced, and moulder as it were away; but some few are permanent, and by being inclosed between glasses, they may be preserved months or even years. It happens oftentimes that a drop of a saline solution can hardly be spread on the slip of glass, by reason of the glasss smoothness, but breaks into little globules, as it would do were the surface greasy: the way to prevent this is, by rubbing the broken drop with your finger over the glass, so as to leave the glass smeared with it; on which smeared place, when dry, another drop of the solution may be spread very easily in whatever form is agreeable. It sometimes happens, that when a heated drop is placed properly for examination, the observer finds such a cloudiness that he can distinguish nothing of the object; which is owing to saline steams that arise from the drop, covering and obscuring the object glass, and therefore must immediately be wiped away with a soft cloth or leather. In all examinations of saline solutions by the microscope, even though made in the daytime, you must use a candle; for the configurations, being exceedingly transparent, are rendered much more distinguishable by the brown light a candle affords, than by the more white and transparent daylight; and besides, either by moving the candle, or turning the microscope, such light may be varied or directed just as the subject requires. It may be also proper to take notice, that no kinds of microscopes are fit for these observations, but such as have an open stage, whereon the slips of glass, with the liquor upon them, may be placed readily, and in a perfect horizontal position; and moreover, where they can be turned about freely, and without disordering the fluid. CHAP. V. THE IMPORTANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY; OF INSECTS IN GENERAL, AND OF THEIR CONSTITUENT PARTS. There is no human science which to a rational mind exhibits a greater variety of attractions, or which is more deserving of general esteem, than that of NATURAL HISTORY; accordingly we find, that from the earliest times in which the sciences have been promulgated, it has never been entirely destitute of its votaries; but, on the contrary, has for ages employed the lives of many learned men, as being, in fact, the study of DIVINE WISDOM displayed in the creation: the farther our researches are carried, the more striking proofs of it every where abound. In the present century, an ra particularly devoted to investigation, and propitious to discovery and improvement in various branches of science, Natural History, so far from being neglected, has been more generally cultivated, and pursued with an ardor unprecedented at any former period. Men of the first rank in literature have become indefatigable labourers in the vast and unbounded field which it presents to the eyes of an accurate and attentive observer. The animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms, have been examined with the utmost care; that confusion and perplexity which seemed unavoidably to result from a view of the immense variety of articles contained in each of those departments, and which frequently deterred persons from engaging in the pursuit, have been in a great measure removed by the introduction of systematic arrangement; by these means, the various subjects are distributed into classes and genera, enabling us to form distinct and comprehensive ideas of them. To the same methodical plan, and the nicety of discrimination thence arising, we must attribute the discovery and description of many new species; this has excited an emulation still farther to pursue the inquiry, nor need any apprehension be entertained that the subject will be exhausted, as, no doubt, an infinite variety still remains unexplored to engage the utmost attention of the philosophic mind, and fully to compensate the pains bestowed on so interesting a branch of knowledge. Of the abundance of articles enumerated in books of Natural History, there are comparatively few, whose uses are as yet known, or their properties fully understood. The true naturalist should always bear in mind that there is a vast difference between retaining the names, and investigating the nature and peculiar qualities of the creatures to which they belong. It is highly proper, indeed necessary, that the multifarious objects of Natural History should be well ascertained and distinguished with nicety in all their varieties; the science and admirers of it are, therefore, unquestionably indebted to the able naturalists who have devoted their time, and exercised their ingenuity in devising commodious methods of arrangement, and invented systems for identifying the several subjects with accuracy, and less danger of fallacy or mistake: but all who are, or would wish to be thought naturalists, ought to consider, that the best possible mode of classification is, after all, but an introduction to Natural History. The ingenious and indefatigable LINNUS, who spent his life in fabricating the curious system now generally adopted, intended it certainly for the improvement of the science, as a basis for the service of knowledge and the benefit of mankind; let us be cautious not to mistake the means for the end, but in the prosecution of the science, think of the true ends of knowledge, and endeavour to promote our own instruction, and the advancement of others, with a view to the adoration of that DIVINE BEING to whom all creation is indebted for existence, and their application to the occasions and uses of life, all along conducting and perfecting the study in the spirit of benevolence. The study of nature, or in other words, a serious contemplation of the works of GOD, is indeed a great and proper object for the exercise of our rational faculties; nor can we perhaps employ them better, than in endeavouring to make ourselves acquainted with the works of that glorious Being from whom they were received. Though there is a great deal of pleasure in contemplating the material world, or that system of bodies into which the DIVINE ARCHITECT has so admirably wrought the mass of dead matter, with the several relations which those bodies bear to one another; there is still something more wonderful and surprizing arising from the contemplation of the animated world; by which is to be understood all those animals with which every part of the universe is furnished. The material world is only the shell of the universe; the animated world are its inhabitants. Existence is a blessing to those beings only which are endowed with perception, and appears useless when bestowed upon dead matter, any farther than as it is subservient to beings which are conscious of their existence. Thus we find, from the bodies which lie under our observation, that matter is only made as the basis and support of animals, and that there is no more of the one than what is necessary for the exigence of the other. There are some living creatures which are raised but just above dead matter; there are many others, but one remove from these, which have no other senses but those of feeling and taste; others have still an additional sense of hearing; others of smell, and again others of sight. It is wonderful to observe, by what a gradual progress life advances through a prodigious variety of species, before a creature is formed that possesses all these senses; and even among these, there is such a different degree of perfection in the senses which one animal enjoys beyond what appears in another, that, though the sense in different animals be distinguished by the same common denomination, it seems almost of a different nature. If, after this, we look into the several inward qualities of sagacity, or what is generally called instinct, we find them rising after the same manner imperceptibly one above another, and receiving additional improvements, according to the species in which they are implanted. This progress in nature is so very gradual, that what appears to us the most perfect of an inferior species, comes very near to the most imperfect, as we are accustomed to call it, of that which is immediately above it. The exuberant and overflowing goodness of the SUPREME BEING, whose mercy extends to all his works, is plainly seen, as before observed, from his having made so very little matter, at least what falls within our knowledge, that does not swarm with life; nor is his goodness less visible in the diversity than in the multitude of living creatures. Had he only made one species of animals, none else could have enjoyed the happiness of existence; he has, therefore, included in his creation, every degree of life, every capacity of being. The whole chasm of nature, from a plant to a man, is filled up with diverse kinds of creatures, rising one above another, by such a gentle and easy ascent, that the little transitions and deviations from one species to the other are almost insensible. This intermediate space is so prudently managed, that there is scarce a degree of perception which does not appear in some one part of the animated world. Is the goodness or the wisdom of the DIVINE BEING more manifest in this his proceeding? In this system of creation there is no creature so wonderful in its nature, and which so much merits our particular attention, as man, who fills up the middle space between the animal and intellectual nature, the visible and invisible world; and is that link, in the chain of beings, which has been often termed the nexus utriusque mundi. So that he, who in one respect being associated with angels and archangels, may look upon a BEING of infinite perfection as his father, and the highest order of spirits as his brethren, may, in another respect, say to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister.46 46 Spectator, Vol. vii. Numb. 519. There are, however, many who form their judgments of the works of nature from external appearance only; hence they imagine, that the greatest and most magnificent are the only perfect parts of creation, and worthy of our regard. Hence they confine their attention to the more splendid and shining branches of philosophy, and are too apt to treat the other parts with coolness and indifference, not to say contempt. But surely a true philosopher is one who diligently pursues the study of nature in all its branches; who can behold with admiration her noblest productions, yet view with pleasure the smallest of her works: in short, one who thinks every thing excellent that owes its formation to the GOD of nature; and we need only take a transient view of the smaller creatures with which the earth is peopled, to discover that they are perfect in their kind, and carry about them as strong marks of infinite wisdom, power, and beneficence as the greatest. It has been justly said, that there is not a vegetable that grows, nor an insect that moves, but what is sufficient to confound the Atheist, and to afford the candid observer endless materials for devout adoration and praise. If we examine insects with attention, we shall soon be convinced of their divine origin, and survey with admiration the wonderful art and mechanism of their structure, wherein such a number of vessels, parts, and movements are collected in a single point; yet are they furnished with weapons to seize their prey, dexterity to escape their foes, every thing requisite to perform the business of their stations, and enjoy the pleasures of their conditions. What a profusion of the richest ornaments and the gayest colours are often bestowed on one little insect! and yet there are thousands of others that are as beautiful and wonderful in their kind; some are covered with shining coats of mail, others are adorned with plumes of feathers, all of them furnished with every thing that is proper to make them answer the purposes for which they were designed. After an attentive examination of the nature and fabric of both the least and largest animals, I cannot, says the great and excellent Swammerdam, but allow the less an equal, perhaps a superior degree of dignity; whoever duly considers the conduct and instinct of the one, with the manners and actions of the other, must acknowledge, that they are all under the direction and controul of a supreme and particular intelligence; which, as in the largest it extends beyond the limits of our comprehension, escapes our researches in the smallest. If, while we dissect with care the larger animals, we are filled with wonder at the elegant disposition of their limbs, the inimitable order of their muscles, and the regular direction of their veins, arteries, and nerves, to what an height is our astonishment raised, when we discover all the parts arranged in the least, and in the same regular manner! How is it possible but we must stand amazed when we reflect, that those little animals, whose bodies are smaller than the point of the dissecting knife, have muscles, veins, arteries, and every other part common to the larger animals? Creatures so very diminutive, that our hands are not delicate enough to manage, or our eyes sufficiently acute to see them. The subserviency of the several beings in the visible creation to one another; the order in which each of them appears in that appointed season, when only it can be conducive to the purposes of the rest; and the preservation of a sufficient number of every species, amidst the immense havoc that reigns throughout, are, among other things, proofs of the amazing and incomprehensible wisdom by which they were all formed. With what pleasure does the mind, accustomed to look up from effects to their causes, from created beings to the GREAT SOURCE OF BEING, view that unbounded beneficence, which leaves not the smallest space, capable of supporting existence of any kind, unplanted with them. There is hardly any portion of matter, or the least drop of fluid naturally found on the surface of the earth, that is not inhabited by multitudes of animals; the subterraneous regions are peopled with their minute inhabitants, and the abyss of the sea, where no human eye can penetrate, abounds with animated beings. The air is usually considered as the great source of destruction to bodies, whether animal or vegetable; but we do not always understand by what means or in what manner it is performed. What we term destruction and decay of one substance, occasions the production and ripening a multitude of others; wherever the air is admitted, with it a thousand different things find their way; and what is usually attributed to the effects of that fluid, is in general occasioned by the multitudes of bodies with which it is fraught. Redi observed, that flesh preserved from the access of flies, would bread no maggots; and it is as constant an observation, that vegetable substances will keep a long time in whatever state they are, if the air be excluded; but as soon as it is admitted, they also produce or afford their several kinds either of animal, or minuter vegetable inhabitants. In the first of these cases, the parent flies make their way to the exposed flesh, and there deposit their eggs for the production of a new offspring; in the other, multitudes of the seeds of minute plants and ovula of animals are floating in the air, and accompany it wherever it enters; if they be thus deposited in a place proper for vegetation and accretion, they burst their inclosures, and attain their growth as regularly as the seeds of plants deposited in the earth, or the eggs of larger animals in the nest. The same wisdom which placed the sun in the center of the system, and arranged the several planets around him in their order, has no less shewn itself in the provision made for the food and dwelling of every bird that roams in the air, and every beast that wanders in the desert; equally great in the smallest and in the most magnificent objects; in the star and in the insect; in the elephant and in the fly; in the beam that shines from heaven and in the grass that cloathes the ground. Nothing is overlooked, nothing is carelessly performed: every thing that exists is adapted with perfect symmetry to the end for which it was designed. This wisdom displayed by the Almighty in the creation, was not intended merely to gratify curiosity and to raise wonder; it ought to beget profound submission, and pious trust in every heart. Histories of the providence and caution, the care and foresight of the most inconsiderable among animal beings, must surely ever be read with pleasure and attention, as conveying a most beautiful lesson to a reflecting mind; it is impossible for any one thus instructed to think that the Great Being, who has been so careful of those inferior creatures, can be regardless of him whom he has placed in a station infinitely more exalted. Throughout the whole system of things, we behold a manifest tendency to promote the benefit either of the rational or the animal creation. In some parts of nature, this tendency may be less obvious than in others. Objects, which to us seem useless or hurtful, may sometimes occur; and strange it were, if in so vast and complicated a system, difficulties of this kind should not occasionally present themselves to beings, whose views are so narrow and limited as ours. It is well known, that in proportion as the knowledge of nature has increased among men, these difficulties have diminished. Satisfactory accounts have been given of many perplexing appearances; useful and proper purposes have been found to be promoted by objects which were at first thought to be unprofitable or noxious.47 47 The great beauty of the dye produced by the cochineal insect, and the medical virtues of the cantharis, have occasioned them to be considered as very extensive and valuable articles of commerce. The benefits derived from the bee and the silkworm are universally known; and spiders, could a method be devised to induce them to live in harmony, might also be productive of very essential advantages to the human race. EDIT. Malignant must be the mind of that person; with a distorted eye he must have contemplated creation, who can suspect that it is not the production of infinite benignity and goodness. How many clear marks of benevolent intention appear every where around us? What a profusion of beauty and ornament is poured forth on the face of nature? What a magnificent spectacle presented to the view of man? What a supply contrived for his wants? What a variety of objects set before him, to gratify his senses, to employ his understanding, to entertain his imagination, to cheer and gladden his heart? Indeed the very existence of the universe is a standing memorial of the goodness of the Creator; for nothing except goodness could originally prompt creation. No new accession of felicity or glory was to result to him from creatures whom he made: it was goodness communicating and pouring itself forth, goodness delighting to impart happiness in all its forms, which in the beginning created the heaven and the earth. Hence those innumerable orders of living creatures with which the earth is peopled, from the lowest class of sensitive being to the highest rank of reason and intelligence. Wherever there is life, there is some degree of happiness; there are enjoyments suited to the different powers of feeling; and earth, air, and water, are with magnificent liberality made to teem with life.48 48 Blairs Sermons. Let us not then slight, or deem that unworthy our notice, in which immensity is so conspicuous; or that trivial, in which there is such a manifestation of infinite beneficence; but rather let those striking displays of creating goodness call forth, on our part, responsive love, gratitude, and veneration. To this Great Father of all existence and life, to Him who hath raised us up to behold the light of day, and to enjoy all the comforts which his world presents, let our hearts send forth a perpetual hymn of praise. Evening and morning let us celebrate Him who maketh the morning and the evening to rejoice over our heads; who openeth his hand and satisfieth the desire of every living thing. Let us rejoice that we are brought into a world, which is the production of infinite goodness; over which a supreme intelligence presides; and where nothing happens but by his divine permission for the wisest purposes. Convinced that he hateth not the works which he hath made, nor hath brought creatures into existence merely to suffer unnecessary pain, let us even in the midst of sorrow, receive with calm submission whatever he is pleased to send; thankful for what he bestows; and satisfied that, without good reason, he takes nothing away. Such, in general, are the effects which meditation on the works of the creation ought to produce. It presents such an astonishing conjunction of power, wisdom, and goodness, as we cannot behold without religious veneration. In short, the world around us is the mighty volume wherein god hath declared himself; a picture wherein his perfections are displayed. The book of nature is written in a character that every one may read; it consists not of words, but things; it is a school where GOD is the teacher. All the objects of sense are as the letters of an universal language, in which all people and nations have a common interest; the Creator himself has made this use of it, revealing his will by it, and referring man to it for instruction. Hence the universal agreement between nature and revelation; hence, also, he that can understand GOD as the Fountain of truth and the Saviour of men in the holy scriptures, will be better enabled to understand and adore him as the fountain of power and goodness in the natural creation. Thus will philosophy and divinity go hand in hand, and shew that the world was made, as the scriptures were written, for our instruction; and that the creation of GOD is a school for Christians, if they use it aright.49 49 It is a curious, though melancholy subject of contemplation, to observe how different have been the sentiments of learned and reputedly pious men in times less enlightened; a period when attention to, or compassion for, the animal creation could find no place in a breast that withheld and denied the mercy of God unto men; when mercy itself was deemed heresy! Even in prior and purer times it was affirmed that It is absurd, and a disparagement to the majesty of GOD to suppose him to know how many insects there are in the world, or how many fishes in the sea; yea, that such an idea of the Omniscience of GOD would be foolish flattery to Him, and an injury to ourselves. For the satisfaction of the learned reader, I shall here quote the original. Absurdum est ad hoc Dei deducere Majestatem, ut sciat per momenta singula quot nascantur culices, quotve moriantur; qu cimicum et pulicum et muscarum sit in terra multitudo; quanti pisces in aqua natent, et qui de minoribus majorum prd cedere debeant. Non simus tam fatui Adulatores Dei, ut dum potentiam ejus ad ima detrahimus in nos ipsos injuriosi simus. HIERONYMI Comment. in Abac. Lib. 1. Edit. Basil. Tom. vi. p. 187. EDIT. A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF INSECTS. The subjects of that part of the creation we are now going to survey, merit our attention as exceeding the rest of animated nature in their numbers, the singularity of their appearance, and the variety of their forms. Earth, air, and water are filled with hosts of them. Being for the major part very small, and myriads so diminutive, as even to be imperceptible to the unassisted eye, our knowledge of them, and their component parts would be extremely circumscribed and imperfect, were it not for the advantages derived from the use of the microscope; but happily possessed of this valuable instrument, an inexhaustible source of entertainment and instruction is afforded to the curious inquirer into the wonders of nature. The beauties of the minuter parts of creation are not more hidden from our unassisted sight, than the ends and purposes of their conomy from slight and superficial observation; the microscope does not more amaze and charm as with a discovery of the first, than the application of our faculties in investigating the latter. The name of INSECT has been appropriated to these small animals on account of the sections or divisions that are observable in the bodies of the greatest part of them; though, perhaps, it is impossible to find any precise term that shall embrace the whole genera, as many particulars must be described before we can attain an exact notion of these animals and their structure. An insect is now generally defined to be, an animated being whose head is furnished with antenn; that is destitute of bones, but which, instead thereof, is covered with a very hard skin; that has six or more feet; and that breathes through spiracula, or pores placed in the side of the body. To be more particular, quadrupeds, birds, and fishes have an internal skeleton of bones, to which the muscles are affixed; but the whole interior body of insects is composed of soft flesh, and the muscles are attached to an external skeleton, serving the double purpose of skin and bone. Insects are by most writers considered as divided into four principal parts: the caput, or head; the thorax, or trunk; the abdomen, or belly; and artus, or limbs. A perfect knowledge of these parts, and their several subdivisions, is requisite for those who are desirous of forming accurate ideas of these minute animals, or who wish to arrange them in their proper classes. The head is affixed to the thorax by a species of articulation or joint; it is the principal seat of the senses, and contains the rudiments of the brain;50 it is furnished with a mouth, eyes, antenn, a forehead, a throat, and stemmata. In the greater part of insects the head is distinctly divided from the thorax, but in others it coalesces with it. The head of some insects is very large compared with the size of their bodies; the proportion between the head of the same insect is not always similar; in the caterpillars with horny heads it is generally small, before they moult or change their skin, but much larger after each moulting. The hardness of the exterior part of the head prevents its growth before the change; it is, consequently, in proportion to the body very small; but when the insect is disposing itself for the change, the internal substance of the head retires inwards to the first ring of the neck, where it has room to expand itself; so that when the animal quits the skin, we are surprized with a head twice the former size; and, as the insect neither eats nor grows while the head is forming, there is this further circumstance to be remarked, that the body and the head have each their particular time of growth: while the head expands and grows, the body does not grow at all; when the body increases, the head remains of the same size, without any change. The heads of all kinds of insects, and their several parts, form very pleasing, as well as most diversified objects for the opake microscope. 50 Fabricius Philos. Entomolog. p. 18. Os, the mouth, is a part of the insect to which the naturalist will find it necessary to pay a very particular attention; Fabricius goes so far as to assert that, without a thorough knowledge of the mouth, its form, and various appendages, it will be impossible ever to discriminate with accuracy one insect from another. In the structure of the mouth considerable art and wisdom is displayed; the diversity of the figure is almost as great as the variety of species. It is usually placed in the forepart of the head, extending somewhat downwards; in the chermes, coccus, and some other insects, it is placed under the breast. In some insects, the mouth is forcipated, to catch, hold, and tear the prey; in others, aculeated, to pierce and wound animals, and suck their blood; in others, strongly ridged with jaws and teeth, to gnaw and scrape out their food, carry burdens, perforate the earth, nay the hardest wood, and even stones themselves, for habitations and nests for their young. Others are furnished with a kind of tube or tongue, at one time moveable, at another fixed; with this they suck the juices of the flowers: in some again the tongue is so short, as to appear to us incapable of answering the purpose for which it was formed, and the oestri appear to have no mouth. Maxill, the jaws, are generally two in number; in some, four; in others, more. They are sometimes placed in an horizontal, sometimes in a transverse direction; the inner edge is serrated, or furnished with small teeth, as in the cicada, nepa, notonecta, cimex, (bug,) aphis, and remarkably so in some curculeones. The rostrum, or proboscis, is in general a very curious and complicated organ; it is the mouth drawn out to a rigid point. In many insects of the hemiptera class, it is bent down towards the breast and belly. It has by some writers been considered as serving at once the different purposes of mouth, nose, and windpipe, enabling the insect to extract the juices of plants, communicate the sensation of smelling, and convey air to the body. Lingua, the tongue, is a taper and compact instrument, by which the insect obtains the juices of plants. Some can contract or expand it, others roll it up with dexterity; in some it is inclosed within a sheath. It is taper and spiral in the butterfly, tubular and fleshy in the fly; in all affording agreeable amusement for the microscope. To exemplify which in one or two instances, while it relieves the reader from the tediousness of narration, will, it is hoped, animate him to farther researches on the subject. OF THE PROBOSCIS OF THE BEE. Every days experience shews that the more we penetrate into the hidden recesses and internal parts of natural bodies, the more we find them marked with perfection in form and design; of the truth of which observation the minute apparatus now to be described will, no doubt, ensure conviction. Swammerdam, when speaking thereof, breaks out into this pious and humble confession: I cannot refrain, says he, from confessing to the glory of the Immense and Incomprehensible Architect, that I have but imperfectly described and represented this small organ; for, to represent it to the life in its full perfection, as truly most perfect it is, far exceeds the utmost efforts of human knowledge. From what has here been said, it will be easy to perceive, that the limits of these Essays will not permit our entering largely into a description of the minute parts of the proboscis of the bee; for an ample account of which recourse must be had to the works of Swammerdam and Reaumur. The last writer, like a skilful workman who takes to pieces a watch which he himself has made, exhibits to you the several parts of which it is composed, and explains their fitness, their adjustments, their uses, the play of the pivots, springs, and pillars; for all these parts, and many more, are to be found in the proboscis of a bee. It is by this small instrument that the bee procures the food necessary for its subsistence. In a general view, it may be considered as consisting of seven pieces; one of these, i i, b c, Fig. 3. Plate XIII. is placed in the middle; this is supposed to be pervious, and to constitute what may be properly called the tongue; the other six smaller parts or sheaths, disposed in three pairs, are placed on each side of the former: they not only assist in extracting and gathering the honey from the flowers, but they also protect and strengthen the part. The proboscis itself is very curiously divided; the divisions are elegant and regular, and are beset all round with shaggy triangular fibres or villi, distributed in beautiful order: these divisions, though very numerous, appear at first sight as a number of different articulations. The tongue, considered with respect to its length, may be said to have three articulations; one with the head, then a kind of cylindrical horny substance, which forms as it were a base for the true tongue, which is not horny, but soft, fleshy, and pliable.51 51 Philos. Trans. for 1792, Part I. The two pieces a a of the exterior sheath are of a substance partly between bone and horn, and partly membranaceous; they are set round with fibres, and are furnished with air vessels, which are distributed through their whole texture; the upper ends f f of this sheath appear to be a little bent, but can be straitened by the bee when they are applied to the proboscis. At d d are two articulations, by means of which the pieces a a may be occasionally bent. The joints contribute towards bending the proboscis downwards, or rather underneath, against the head. These sheaths, together with two interior ones e e, assist in defending, covering, and protecting it from injuries; it is also probable that they promote the descent of the honey, by pressing the proboscis. The parts k k of this sheath have been called by some writers the root. The two parts e e of the interior sheath are placed higher than those of the exterior one; they originate at g g on the proboscis itself, and near that part or articulation, by which the bee can upon occasion bend the proboscis; this sheath, therefore, always moves with the middle part i i, and is carried forward by it, the exterior sheath being left behind, because its attachments and origin are below that of the proboscis. The pieces e e are very similar in structure to those of a a, only that each of them has on the upper part three joints, the lower one is much longer than the other two; they are all of them surrounded with short fibres. The smaller articulated pieces never lie close to the proboscis, nor cover it, but are only placed near it, the two upper joints projecting outwards, as in this figure, even when the whole apparatus is shut up as much as possible. Swammerdam thinks these joints are of essential use to the bee, acting as it were in the manner of fingers, and assisting the proboscis, by opening the leaves of the flowers, and removing other obstructions from it; or like the two fore feet of the mole, by the help of which it pushes the earth from the sides both ways, that it may be able with its sharp trunk to search for its food more conveniently. There are two smaller pieces or sheaths, m m, near the bottom of the proboscis; these cannot be well seen without removing the sheath e e. The proboscis is partly membranaceous, and partly of a gristly nature; the lower part is formed in such a manner, that it will swell out considerably, by which means the internal cavity may be prodigiously enlarged, and rendered capable of receiving a very large quantity of native and undigested honey, and larger than might be expected from its size. When the proboscis is shut up and inactive, it is very much flattened, and is three or four times broader than it is thick. The edges are always round; it grows tapering, though very gradually, towards the extremity. The lower and membranaceous part of the trunk has no fibres or villi on it, but is covered with little protuberant transparent pimples, that are placed in regular order, and at equal distances from each other, resembling the little risings observable on the skin of birds when the feathers have been plucked off. They are probably glandules, and may have a considerable share in changing or preparing the honey that is swallowed or taken up by the proboscis. Down the middle of the proboscis there is a tube of a much harder nature than the sides, it grows gradually smaller towards the top; at this place the tongue itself is extremely villous, having some very long villi at the point; whether they are open tubes, or whether they only serve as so many claws, to keep it in its proper place while in action, has not been determined; Mr. John Hunter conceives them to act somewhat like capillary tubes. The proboscis terminates in a small cylinder c, at the top of which there is a little globule or nipple; the bee can contract this cylindrical part, and the little membrane in which the villi are fixed, into a much smaller compass, and draw it inwards. The exterior sheaths lap over each other on the upper part, so that the outside of the proboscis is protected by a very strong double case, a covering that was unnecessary for the under part; because when this instrument is in use the sheaths are opened, but when it is inactive, it is so folded that the under part is protected by the body of the bee. Withinside the exterior sheath, and near the bottom q, are two levers, which are fixed to the end of the proboscis, and by which it is raised and lowered. Swammerdam thinks that the honey is, as it were, pumped or sucked up by the bee through the hole at the end b of the tongue; he does not seem to have discovered the apertures which are on the cylindrical part, near the end b. But Reaumur is of opinion that it is used to lap up the fluid, which is then conveyed down between the sheath to the mouth of the bee. To ascertain this, he placed a bee in a glass tube, the inside of which was rubbed over with honey, and little pieces thereof placed in different parts; the bee placed the tongue on the honey; stretching the end beyond the piece thereof, she bent it into the form of a bow, and inserted the most convex part of the bow into the honey; by rubbing the glass backwards and forwards with this part, she soon cleaned that portion to which it was applied, conveying the honey afterwards to the throat by the vermicular motion of the tongue. If you attentively observe a bee, when it has placed itself on a fullblown flower, the activity and address with which it uses this apparatus will be very conspicuous. It lengthens the end, and applies it to the bottom of the petals or leaves of the flower, moving it continually in a vast variety of different directions; lengthening and shortening, bending and turning it in every possible way, to adapt it to the form, c. of the leaves of the flower. These various movements are executed with a promptitude that surpasses all description. The whole of this curious apparatus can be folded up into a very small compass under the head and neck. The larynx, or that part next to the head, falls back into the neck, which brings the extreme end of the first portion of the proboscis within the upper lip, or behind the two teeth; then the whole of the second part is bent down upon and under the first part, and the two last sheaths or scales are also bent down over the whole; so that the true tongue is inclosed laterally by the two second horny sheaths, and over the whole lie the two first. OF THE PROBOSCIS OF THE BUTTERFLY. From the tongue of the bee, let us now direct our attention to that of the butterfly. This is a spiral substance, somewhat resembling the spring of a watch when wound up, consisting of eight rounds; by means of a pin you may gently pull it out to its full length; it grows gradually tapering from the base, at the end it divides or separates into two tubes, each furnished with little organs of suction; probably, it is by these that it extracts the juices on which it feeds, and not by the extreme ends of the tongue. As the butterfly has no mouth, the proboscis is the only alimentary organ; when separated from the insect, it will often unroll itself, then wind and coil itself up again, continuing these motions at intervals for a considerable time. OF THE PROBOSCIS OF THE CULEX OR GNAT. The proboscis of the gnat consists of a great number of extremely delicate pieces, all concurring to one purpose; this is the instrument with which it strikes the flesh, and sucks the blood of animal bodies. The only part exhibited to the naked eye is the sheath, which contains all the other pieces. This sheath is a cylindrical tube, which is slit in such a manner, that the insect can separate it from the dart, and bend it more or less in proportion as the dart is plunged into the wound. From this tube the sting is darted, which consists of five or six blades or lancets of exquisite minuteness, lying one over the other; some of these are sharpened like a twoedged sword, while others are dentated and barbed at their extremities like the head of an arrow. The instant the gnat lances this bundle of darts into the flesh, and penetrates a vein, a drop or two of fluid is by it insinuated into the wound, by which the blood is attenuated, and the blades acting as so many capillary tubes, the blood ascends in them, and is conveyed into the body of the gnat. The injected fluid also by its fermentation causes that disagreeable and teazing sensation of itching, to which most persons are subjected, after having sustained an attack from one or more of these little animals.52 52 To some persons the gnat (culex pipiens) is so truly formidable, that, during the Summer season, they constantly dread the approach of evening, that being the time when these bloodthirsty marauders sally forth in great numbers, pursue them wherever they go, and exempt no part of the face, hands, or even the legs from their depredations; the consequences of which are, violent, though happily only local and temporary inflammation, attended with insupportable itching, succeeded by tumors very similar to those occasioned by a scald; when these have discharged the pellucid fluid they contain, the symptoms subside. Instances have been known in the vicinity of London, where for several days the eyes of the sufferers have been closed, the nose and lips violently swelled, the fingers of both hands so affected as to prevent their motion, and the legs equally affected. It is remarkable, that in general those who thus suffer are not conscious of the moment when they receive the injury, but are soon made sensible of it by the effect it produces. The approach of the enemy is, however, always known by the singing or humming noise they make; the peculiar note of which, though rendered very familiar by daily repetition, is never esteemed sufficiently musical to render it pleasant or agreeable to the destined victims. Amongst the variety of remedies which have been recommended for the cure of this temporary evil, Barbut mentions the immediate application of volatile alkali, or scratching the part newly stung, and washing it with cold water; he likewise asserts, that rubbing the part at night with fullers earth and water abates the inflammation. As preventives are certainly more acceptable than curatives, I wish I were enabled to recommend such in the present case: in one instance, the application of vinegar every evening before sunset produced a happy effect; possibly washing the parts exposed with extract of saturn properly diluted might prove effectual. In the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1767, is an account of uncommonly numerous swarms of gnats which made their appearance at Oxford, during the months of July, August, and September of the preceding year. So many myriads sometimes occupied the same part of the atmosphere in contiguous bodies, that they resembled a very black cloud, greatly darkened the air, and almost totally interrupted the solar rays. The repeated bites of these malignant insects were so severe, that the legs, arms, heads, and other parts of many persons were swelled to an enormous size. The colour of the parts was red and fiery, perfectly similar to that of some of the most alarming inflammations. Some of these gnats had their bodies greatly distended by the uncommon quantities of blood which they had imbibed. In short, there is no species of insects more troublesome to mankind than the gnat; others give more pain with their stings, but it is only when they are attacked, or by accident, that we are stung by them; but the gnats thirst for our blood, and follow us in whole companies to attack us. In marshy places of this country the limbs of the inhabitants are kept swelled during the whole season. In warmer climates, particularly the West Indies, they are, under the denomination of musquetoes, still more formidable. Hooke, in his Micrographia, pleads in justification of these terrible little insects, that they do not wound the skin and suck the blood out of enmity or revenge, but through mere necessity, and to satisfy their hunger:it may be so; and on this account we cannot annex the criminality to them which appertains to such of the highest rank in the scale of the animal creation, who, though not urged by the same powerful motive, pursue a somewhat similar conduct; but those who have experienced their assaults, will scarcely admit this plea as a sufficient apology, or feel themselves amicably disposed towards them; as, from whatever cause their attacks may proceed, the effect is so very unpleasant, as almost to justify the sufferers in addressing them in the language of the frogs in the fable to the boys, Consider, I beseech ye, that though this may be sport to you, it is death to us, and ejaculating a wish, that they might be enabled to gratify their rapacious appetites by some other means. EDIT. OF THE PROBOSCIS OF THE TABANUS OR OXFLY. Plate XVI. Fig. 1. is a microscopic view of the proboscis of a tabanus, with which it pierces the skins of horses and oxen, and nourishes itself with their blood; Fig. 2. the same of the natural size. The singular and compound structure, together with the wonderful form and exquisite beauty of this apparatus, discovers such a view of the wisdom, power, and greatness of its infinite composer, as must strike with admiration every contemplative observer, and lead him to reflect on the weakness, impotence, and nothingness of all human mechanism, when compared with the immense skill and inimitable finishing displayed in the subject before us. The whole of this formidable apparatus is composed of six parts, exclusive of the two guards or feelers a a, all of which are inclosed in a fleshy case, which in the figure is totally removed, as it contained nothing remarkably different from that of other insects with two wings. The guards or feelers a a, are of a spungy or fleshy substance, and are grey, covered with short hairs or villi; they are united to the head by a little joint of the same texture, which in this view of the object could not be shewn. These guards are a defence to the other parts of the apparatus, as they are laid upon it side by side, whenever the animal stings, and by that means preserve it from external injury. The two lancets b b and B, evidently open the wound, and are of a delicate and tender structure, formed like the dissecting knife of the anatomist, with a sharp point and slender edge, but gradually increasing to the back. The two instruments, c c and C, appear as if intended to enlarge the wound, by irritating the parts round it; to accomplish which, they are jagged or serrated; they may also serve, from their hard and horny texture, to defend the tube e E, which is of a softer nature and tubular to admit the blood, and convey it to the stomach; this delicate part is inclosed in a case d D, which entirely covers it. These parts are drawn separately at B, C, D, E. De Geer observes, that it is only the female that sucks the blood of animals; and Reaumur declares, that having made one disgorge itself, the blood it threw up, appeared to him to be more than the whole body of the insect could have contained. Many other instances of the variety and curious fabrication of this little organ in different insects, may be found in the works of Reaumur and De Geer; enough has been said to shew that its mechanism not only eludes the human eye, but far surpasses every work of man; I shall therefore proceed, in the next place, to notice THE ANTENN OF INSECTS. The antenn are fine slender horns consisting of several articulations, moveable in various directions, and constituting one of the discriminating characteristics of insects. They are beautiful in form, and of a very delicate structure, so finely articulated, and so minutely jointed, as to be instantaneously moveable in every direction. They are situated on the fore part of the head. The shape, the length, the number, and kind of articulations, not only vary in different species, but the antenn of the male generally differ from those of the female. The greater number of insects have only two antenn, but the oniscus, the pagurus, and astacus have four. Regular rows of minute holes are said to have been discovered in the antenn. Several insects cover their eyes with them while they sleep. We are far from being certain of the use of this organ; some writers have conjectured that they were the organs of smell and hearing, others have supposed them appropriated to a delicate species of feeling, sensible to the least motion or disturbance in the circumambient fluid in which they move.53 The following observations throw some light on this obscure subject. When a wingless insect is placed at the end of a twig, or in any other situation where it meets with a vacuity, it moves the antenn backward and forward, elevates and depresses them from side to side, and will not advance further lest it should fall. Place a stick or any other substance near the antenn, and the insect immediately applies them to this new object, seems to examine whether it be sufficient to support its weight, and then proceeds on its journey. From these observations it would appear that the antenn assist the insect in judging of the vicinity of objects, and probably enable them to walk with safety in the dark. 53 Some have thought them intended to defend the eyes, but though this might seem probable in regard to the short plumose ones, it can never hold good in those that are slender and smooth, which can be of no such service. Others have thought them made for wiping and cleaning the eyes, but for this purpose they are totally unfit; the fore legs of the insect are much better calculated for this use by the hairs or fibrilla with which they are covered. Possibly they may be the organs of smelling, since we evidently find that many insects possess this sense in a very exquisite degree, and yet we see no external organs except these to serve that purpose. EDIT. That these observations are not, however conclusive, appears from an experiment of a very ingenious naturalist: being desirous of ascertaining the nature and use of the antenn and proboscis of a butterfly, he gently approached one that was flying about in search of food; he observed that it turned the antenn about every way, till coming within scent of a flower, it kept them fixedly bent toward that object, directing its course by their guidance, till it arrived at the flower; there they appeared to act as an organ of smell, and that the minute holes with which it is furnished assisted in promoting this operation. When the creature had reached the flower, it hovered over it as with rapture, poising itself quietly upon its wing, like a kite or hawk in the air; it then dropped suddenly, till it was on a level with the flower, when it began to agitate its wings briskly and to unroll its spiral trunk, thrusting it to the bottom of the flower; in a little time the trunk was rolled up, and again in a moment unrolled; these operations it repeated till the flower yielded no more juices, the butterfly then sought for and alighted on another.54 54 After all, this subject must for the present remain undecided. Indeed, the bodies of insects are throughout formed of parts so different from ours, that we can probably conceive no more idea of the use of some of their organs, than a man born blind or deaf can of the senses of vision or hearing. They may have senses different from ours, and these may be the organs of them. EDIT. The differences in the form, c. of the antenn are characterized by naturalists under the following names: Setace; are those that, like a bristle, grow gradually taper towards the point or extremity, as in many of the phalen. Filiformes; threadshaped, and of an uniform thickness. Moniliformes; these are filiform like the preceding, and of a regular thickness, but consist of a series of round knobs, like a necklace of beads, as in the chrysomela. Clavat; formed like a club, increasing gradually from the base to the extremity, as in the papilio, butterfly. Capitat; these are also formed like a club, but the last articulation is larger than the rest, finishing with a kind of capital or head. Fissiles; these are like the former, only that the capitulum or head is divided longitudinally into three or four parts or lamin, as in the scarabi. Perfoliat; are also capitated, but have the capitulum divided horizontally, and the lamin connected by a kind of thread passing through their center, as in the dermestes and dytiscus. Pectinat; so called from their similitude to a comb, though they more properly resemble a feather, as in the phalen and elateres; this is most obvious in the male. Aristat; such as have a lateral hair, which is either naked, or furnished with smaller hairs, as in the fly. Besides the foregoing terms, the antenn are called breviores, or short, when they are shorter than the body; mediocres, or middling, when they are of the same length; and longiores, when they are longer. Near the mouth there is also a species of small filiform articulated antenn, called the palpi, or feelers; they are generally four in number, sometimes six; they are placed under and at the sides of the mouth, which situation, together with their size, sufficiently distinguish them from the antenn; they are in continual motion, the animal thrusting them in every matter, as a hog would its nose, when in search of food. Some have supposed them to be a kind of hand to assist in holding the food when it is near the mouth. OF THE EYES OF INSECTS. The structure of the eye has always been considered as a wonderful piece of mechanism; the admirable manner in which those of the human species are formed, and the nature of vision, are speculations which cannot but excite the attention of every inquisitive mind. The eyes of insects, though they differ considerably in their construction from those of other animals, are no less objects of our admiration. Indeed, among the exterior parts of insects, none are more worthy of minute investigation, and very few persons are to be found, who can be insensible to the beauties of this organ when exhibited under the microscope, as that instrument alone points out to us the prodigious art employed in their organization, and evidently shews how many wonders escape the unassisted sight. The construction of the eye in insects is not only distinct from that of other animals, but also differs in different species. They vary in number, situation, connection, and figure. In other creatures the eyes are moveable, and two in number, one on each side of the head: in insects, the genus of cancri excepted, the eyes are fixed; they have no eyebrows, but the outer coating is hard and transparent. The greater part of insects have two eyes; in the monoculus they approach so near to each other, as to appear like one; the gyrinus has four eyes, the scorpion six, the spider eight, and the scolopendra three. Of the eyes of insects, some have them single, that is, placed at a small distance from each other; while others are furnished with an indefinite number, all placed in one common case or socket; the latter are generally termed the reticulated eyes. OF THE RETICULATED EYES OF INSECTS. The microscope does not disclose greater wonders, when it exhibits to us millions of animals invisible to the naked eye, where we should suppose nothing living existed, than when it discovers to us hidden beauties in those, which, though they are large enough to be seen by our natural eye, yet in their several minute parts are no ways discernible, but by the assistance of glasses. Thus we readily discern those protuberances on the heads of insects, which are formed by a congeries of eyes; we can even perceive that they consist of a number of lines crossing each other with great regularity and exactness at some little distance, like the meshes of a net. By this we know that they are reticulated substances; but in what manner they are so, can only be shewn by the microscope. The eyes of the libellula, on account of their size, are peculiarly well adapted for microscopical examination; and, by the assistance of the instrument, you will find that they are divided into a number of hexagonal cells, each of which forms a complete eye. The external parts of these eyes are so perfectly smooth, and so well polished, that, when viewed as opake objects, they will, like so many mirrors, reflect the images of all the surrounding objects. The figure of a candle may be seen on their surface multiplied almost to infinity, shifting its beam to each eye, according to the motion given to it by the hands of the observer. Other creatures are obliged to turn their eyes towards the object, but insects have eyes directed thereto, on whatsoever side it may appear: they more than realize the wonderful accounts of fabulous history: poets gave to Argus an hundred eyes; insects are furnished with thousands, having the benefit of vision on every side with the utmost ease and speed, though without any motion of the eye or flexion of the neck. Each of these protuberances, in its natural state, is a body cut into a number of faces; like an artificial multiplying glass; but with this superiority in the workmanship, that as there, every face is plane, here, every one is convex, immensely more numerous, and contained in a much smaller space. If one of these protuberant substances be nicely taken from the head of the insect, washed clean, and placed before the microscope, its structure is elegantly seen, and it becomes an object worthy of the highest admiration. You will find that each of the eyes is an hexagon, varying in its size according to its situation in the head, and that each of them is a distinct convex lens, and has the same effect in forming the image of an object placed before it. Of this you will be convinced, by turning the mirror of the microscope so as to bring the picture of some welldefined object under the eye; thus, turn it towards a house, and in the eye of the insect you will perceive the house diminished to a box, but multiplied into a city; turn it towards a soldier, and you will have an army of pigmies performing every motion at the same instant of time; again, turn the mirror towards a candle, and you will have a beautiful and resplendent blaze from multitudes of regular flames. Hooke, Catalan, c. have shewn that these small eyes are furnished with every requisite of vision, and that each of them has the use, the power, and properties of an eye. But we must have recourse to the works of Swammerdam for a full account of the astonishing organization of the eyes of insects. Among other things, he has shewn, that under each facet there is a pyramid of fibres broad at the base, and growing smaller as it proceeds inwards; the pyramid has the same number of sides as the eye, and there are as many hexagonal pyramids, as there are small facets or eyes in the insect. An innumerable number of pulmonary tubes ascend these fibres, terminating in a white fibrous convex membrane; under these membranes there is another, still more delicate and transparent; beneath this, a second species of fibres is transversely applied, like so many beams to support the pyramids that are laid upon them. Still we cannot determine with certainty, how these numerous inlets to sight operate for the service of the animal; they may increase the field of view, augment the intensity of light, and be productive of advantages of which we can have no conception. Hooke computed 14000 of these facets in the two eyes of a drone; Leeuwenhoek reckoned 6036 in the two eyes of a silkworm, when in its fly state; in the eyes of the libellula he reckoned 12544 hexangular lenses. Swammerdam covered the reticulated eyes of certain insects with black paint; in this state they flew at random, and seemed to be deprived of their strength; when they settled, they did not avoid the hand that was going to take hold of them. Reaumur made similar experiments on the eyes of bees, which concurred with those of Swammerdam. Some ephemera flies have four reticulated eyes, two of which are placed as in the common fly; the other two are placed, one beside the other, upon the upper part of the head, and have the appearance of a kind of mushroom, the head extended somewhat beyond the stalk. The first pair are of a brown colour, those of the mushroom form are of a very beautiful citron colour. In some of the fly class, these reticulated eyes are little inferior in colour and brilliance to the brightest gem. The colour varies in different species; in some you find it green, in others red, c. some have a most elegant changeable colour thrown over them, partly purple, partly green, and partly of that brassy hue, which is seen on the backs of some of our beetles, and which is not equalled by any other production of art or nature. Fig. 3. Plate XVI. is a representation of a small part of the cornea of a libellula, as seen by the microscope; the sides of the hexagons in some positions of the light, appear of a fine gold colour, and divided into three parallel borders. Fig. 4. the same object of its natural size. Fig. 5. Plate XVI. represents a small portion of the cornea of a lobster; here each of the eyes are small squares, not hexagons; a conformation which admits a smaller number in the same surface; so great a number was not necessary in this instance, as the eyes of the lobster are moveable. Fig. 6. the same of its natural size. OF THE EYES OF THE MONOCULUS POLYPHEMUS. The monoculus polyphemus, or king crab, has four eyes, two large and two small ones; the large eyes are formed of a great number of transparent amberlike cones, the small ones of a single cone, The internal surface of the large eyes, examined with the microscope, is found to be thick set with a great number of small transparent cones, of an amber colour, the bases of which stand downward, and their points upward next the eye of the observer. The cones in general have an oblique direction, except some in the middle of the cornea, about thirty in number, the direction of which is perpendicular. The center of every cone being the most transparent part, and that through which the light passes, on that account the perpendicular or central cones always appear beautifully illuminated at their points. In a word, they are all so disposed, as that a certain number of them receive the light from whatever point it may issue, and transmit it to the immediate organ of sight, which we may reasonably suppose is placed underneath them. The cones are not all of the same length; those on the edges of the cornea are the longest, from whence they gradually diminish as they approach the center, where they are not above half the length of those on the edges. The structure of the small eyes being less elaborate, their internal appearance, when placed in the microscope, will be described in a few words. They consist of an oval transparent horny plate, of an amber colour, in the center of which stands a single cone, through which and the oval plate the light passes.55 55 See Mr. Andrs paper with a plate, in the Phil. Trans. for 1782, page 440. OF THE EYES OF A SPIDER. Though the form of this insect is naturally disgusting, yet the eyes make a beautiful object for the microscope. They have generally eight; two on the top of the head, that look directly upwards; two in the front, a little below the foregoing, to discover what passes before it; on each side a couple more, whereof one points sideways forward, the other sideways backward; so that the spider can nearly see all around. These eyes are immoveable, and seem to be formed of a hard transparent horny substance. A portion of each sphere projects externally beyond the socket, the largest part is sunk within it. There is round each eye a circular transparent membrane. Mr. Baker placed the eye of a spider over a pinhole made through a piece of card, and then applied it as a lens to examine objects; he found it magnified the objects greatly, but that it did not exhibit them distinctly; this he however attributed to the length of time the spider had been dead whose eye he used. The number of eyes is not the same in all species of the spider. OF THE STEMMATA. It might be imagined, that as every fly has two reticulated eyes, they could not have occasion for more; but so it has not appeared to that GREAT BEING who formed them, for many are furnished besides with other eyes, differing in form and construction from those that are reticulated. These were first noticed by M. de la Hire; they are three lucid protuberances placed on the back part of the head of many insects: their surface is glossy, of an hemispheric figure, and a coal black colour. They are transparent, and disposed in a triangular form; by modern naturalists they are termed stemmata. Reaumur made experiments on these eyes, similar to those he had made on the reticulated ones, and found that when the stemmata were covered with dark varnish, the insects flew but to a small distance, and always at random. No insect is, I believe, found with both kind of eyes, unless in its perfect state: there are many species which are not furnished with stemmata, gnats and tipul are without them. We are apt to suppose that nature has lavished all her bounty upon her larger creatures, and left her minims of existence, as Shakspeare phrases it, unfinished; with what different ideas must those be impressed, who find the apparatus for vision in these small creatures so various and so wonderful in their structure, and who must perceive so much design and order manifested in the position, construction, and number of these delicate and useful organs. OF THE BODY OF INSECTS. The trunk or body of the insect is situated between the head and abdomen. Naturalists divide it into three parts; the thorax, scutellum, and sternum. The thorax is the upper part of the body, it is of various shapes and proportions; the sides and back of it are often armed with points. The scutellum, or escutcheon, is the lower part of the body, and is generally of a triangular form; though it adheres to the thorax, it is easily distinguished therefrom by its figure, and often by an intervening suture. It seems intended to assist in expanding the wings. The sternum is situated on the under part of the thorax; in some species it is pointed behind, as in the elateres; in others, bifid, as in some of the dytisci. OF THE ABDOMEN OF INSECTS. The abdomen, or under part of the body, contains the stomach, the intestines, the air vessels, c. It is composed of several rings or segments, so that it may be moved in various directions, or lengthened and shortened at pleasure; in some it is formed of one piece only. It is perforated with spiracula, or breathing holes, and is terminated by the tail. The spiracula are small oblong holes or pores placed singly one on each side of every ring of the abdomen; these are the means or instruments of respiration, supply the want of lungs, and form a peculiar characteristic of insects. OF THE LIMBS OF INSECTS. By the limbs are here meant the instruments used by the insect both for motion and defence. They are, al, the wings; halteres, the poisers; pedes, the legs; cauda, the tail; and aculeus, the sting. OF THE WINGS OF INSECTS. The wings are those organs by which the insect is enabled to fly; some have only two, others are furnished with four, two on each side; these are, in some, of the same size; in others, the superior ones are much larger than the inferior: Linnus has made them the foundation of the order into which he has divided this numerous class of beings. The variety in the form and structure of the wings is almost infinite; the beauty of their colouring, the art with which they are connected to the body, the curious manner in which some are folded up, the fine articulations provided for this purpose, by which they are laid up in their cases when out of use, and yet are ready to be extended in a moment for flight; together with the various ramifications, by which the nourishing juices are circulated, and the wing strengthened, afford a fund of rational investigation highly entertaining; exhibiting, particularly when examined by the microscope, a most wonderful display of divine wisdom and power. The more delicate and transparent wings are covered and protected by elytra, or cases, which are generally hard and opake. The wings of moths and butterflies are mostly farinaceous, covered with a fine dust; by the assistance of the microscope, we discover that this dust is a regular assemblage of organized scales, which will be more particularly noticed hereafter. The following names are made use of to describe the different kinds of wings. They are first distinguished, with respect to their surfaces, into superior and inferior. The part next the head is called the anterior part; that nearer the tail, the posterior part. The interior part is that next the abdomen; the exterior part is the outermost edge. Those wings are termed plicatiles, which are folded when the insect is at rest, as in the wasp. Plan; those which are incapable of being folded. Erect; whose superior surfaces are brought in contact when the insect is at rest, as in the ephemera, papiliones, c. Patentes; if they are extended horizontally when the insect is at rest, as in the phaln geometr. Incumbentes; those insects which, when they are not in motion, cover horizontally with their wings the superior part of the abdomen. Deflex; those are also incumbentes, but not horizontally, the outer edges declining towards the sides, Revers, are also deflex, with this addition, that the edges of the inferior wings project from under the anterior part of the superior ones. Dentat; with serrated or scolloped edges. Caudat; in these some of the fibres of the wings are extended beyond the margin into a kind of tail. Reticulat; when the veins or membranes of the wings put on the appearance of network. The wings are further distinguished by their ornaments, being painted with spots, macul; bands, fasci; streaks, strig: when these are extended lengthways, they are called lines, lin; and if with dots, punct; one or more rings are termed eyes, ocelli; if the spots are shaped like a kidney, they are termed stigmata. The elytra, or crustaceous cases of the wings are extended when the insect flies, and shut when it rests, forming a longitudinal suture down the middle of the back; they are of various shapes, and distinguished by the following names: Abbreviata; when they are shorter than the abdomen. Truncata; when their extremities terminate in a transverse direct line. Fastigiata; when of equal or greater length than the abdomen, and terminating in a transverse line. Serrata; having their external margins edged with teeth or notches. Spinosa; when their exterior surfaces are covered with small sharp points. Scabra; when they are very rough. Striata; marked with slender longitudinal furrows. Porcata; having sharp longitudinal ridges. Sulcata; with deep furrows. They are likewise distinguished by the denomination of Hemelytra, when their cases are neither so hard as the elytra, nor so delicate as the transparent wings. OF THE HALTERES OR POISERS OF INSECTS. Under the wings of most insects which have only two, there is a small head placed on a stalk, frequently under a little arched scale; these are called halteres, poisers; they appear to be rudiments of the hinder wings: it has been supposed that they serve to keep the body in equilibrio when the insect is flying. OF THE ELYTRA, AND WINGS UNDER THE ELYTRA. I have already observed, that the delicate and transparent wings of many insects are covered and protected by elytra, or cases, which also in some measure act as wings. These exterior cases are harder and more opake than the wings under them; they are generally highly polished, and often enriched with various colours, adorned with ornamental flutings, and studded with brilliants, whose beauties are beyond description. All these ornaments are united in the curculio imperialis,56 or diamond beetle, one of the richest and most magnificent creatures in nature; the head, the wings, the legs, c. are curiously beset with scales of a most splendid appearance, outvying the ruby, saphire, and emerald, forming in miniature one of the most noble phenomena that the colours of light can exhibit. It is said, that in the Brazils, from whence they come, it is almost impossible to look at them on a sunny day, when they are flying in little swarms, so great is the glowing splendor of their heightened colours. 56 Fabricis Spec. Ins. 184. 129.Drury. Ins. 2 Tab. 33, Fig. 1. The strength and hardness of the elytra are admirably adapted to the various purposes of the insects to which they are appropriated; at the same time that they protect the tender wings beneath them, they serve as a shield to the body; while the ribs, and other prominences, contribute to lessen the friction and diminish the pressure to which they are often exposed. In most of these insects, the under wing is longer and larger than the exterior one, so that it is obliged to be bent and folded up, in order to lye under the elytra; for this purpose they are furnished with strong muscles, and proper articulations to display or conceal them at pleasure. OF THE WINGS OF THE FORFICULA AURICULARIA, OR EARWIG. Fig. 1. Plate XIV. is a magnified view of the wing of an earwig. Fig. 2. the natural size. Though the insect is so very common, yet few people know that it has wings, and fewer yet have seen them; they are of a curious and elegant texture, and wonderful structure. The upper part is crustaceous and opake, while the other part is beautifully transparent. They fold up into a very small compass, and lie neatly concealed under the elytra, which are not more than a sixth part of the wing in size. They first fold back the parts A B, and then shut up the ribs like a fan; the strong muscles used for this purpose are seen at the upper part of the figure. The ribs are extended from the center to the outer edge, others are extended only from the edge about halfway; but they are all united by a kind of band, at a small, but equal distance from the edge; the whole evidently contrived to strengthen the wing, and facilitate the various motions thereof; so that, in these wings you find all the motions that are in the most elaborate and portable umbrellas, executed with a neatness and elegance surpassing description. The earwig is a very destructive animal, doing considerable injury to most kinds of wall fruit, to carnations, and other fine flowers, c. and as they only feed in the night, they escape the search of the gardener. Reeds open at both ends, and placed among fruit trees, are a good trap for them, as they croud into these open channels, and may be blown out into a tub of water. As they conceal themselves in the daytime, those that are curious in flowers place tobacco pipes, lobster claws, c. on the top of their garden sticks, in order to catch them. This insect differs very little in appearance in its three different states. De Geer asserts, that the female sits on her eggs, and broods over the young ones, as a hen does over her chickens. OF THE WINGS OF THE HEMEROBIUS PERLA. So infinite is the variety displayed in the disposition, structure, and ornaments of the wings of insects, that only to enumerate them would fill many pages; I must leave this subject to be further pursued by the reader, contenting myself with presenting him with the view of a wing of the hemerobius perla, as it appears under the microscope. The insect to which it belongs, has acquired the name of hemerobius, from the shortness of its life, as it seldom lives more than two or three days in the fly state. Linnus has placed it in his fourth class, among those insects which have four transparent wings and no sting. The body of the insect is of a fine green colour; the eyes appear like two delicate beads of burnished gold, whence it is by many called the golden eye. The wings are delicate and elegant, nearly of a length, and exactly similar; they are composed of a beautiful thin transparent membrane, furnished with slender fine ribs, regularly and elegantly disposed, adorned with hairs, and slightly tinged with green. Fig. 1. Plate XV. exhibits its magnified appearance; Fig. 2. the natural size. OF THE WINGS OF MOTHS AND BUTTERFLIES. The wings of these insects are mostly farinaceous, being covered with a fine dust, which renders them opake, and produces those beautiful and variegated colours by which they are so richly adorned, and so profusely decked. If this be wiped off, you find the remaining part, or naked wing, to consist of a number of ribs, like those in the leaves of plants; but of a crustaceous or talcy nature; the largest rib runs along and fortifies the exterior edge of the wing; the interior edge is strengthened by a smaller vessel or rib. The ribs are all hollow, by which means the wing, though comparatively large, is very light. The substance between the ribs, and which constitutes the body of the wing, resembles talc,57 surprizingly thin and transparent; as this is extremely tender, one use of the scales may be to protect it from injuries. When the moth emerges from the chrysalis, the wings are soft and thick, and if they be examined in that state, will be found to consist of two membranes, that may be raised up and separated, by blowing between them with a small tube: the ribs lie between these membranes. You may with the assistance of glasses discover certain strait and circular rows of extremely minute holes, running from rib to rib, or forming figures in the intermediate spaces, which seem to answer to the figures and variegations on the complete wing, and are probably the sockets for the stalks or stems of the small scales. 57 As the authors idea of this substance being of the nature of talc, does not appear correct, and I cannot find that entomologists are agreed in the definition of it, I shall just give the following extract on the subject from the Cyclopdia by Rees, and submit the decision to the reader. The substance which connects and fills up the spaces between these ribs, is of so peculiar a nature, that it is not easy to find any name to design it by, at least there is no substance that enters the composition of the bodies of the larger animals, that is at all analogous to it. It is a white substance, transparent and friable, and seems indeed to differ in nothing from that of the large and thick ribs, but in that it is extended into thin plates; but this is saying little toward the determining what it really is, since we are as much at a loss to know by what name to call the substance they are composed of. Malpighi indeed calls them bones; but though they do serve in the place of bones, rendering the wing firm and strong, c. yet, when strictly examined, they do not appear to have any thing of the structure of bones, but appear rather of the substance of scales, or of that sort of imperfect scales, of which, the covering of crustaceous insects is composed. EDIT. Ever since the microscope was invented, the dust that covers these wings has engaged the attention of microscopic observers; as by this instrument it is found to be a regular collection of organized scales of various shapes, and in whose construction there is as much symmetry, as there is beauty in their colours. A view of some of these scales, as they appear in the microscope, is exhibited at F E H I, in Fig. 7. Plate XVI. and in Fig. 8. of the natural size. Their shapes are not only very different in moths of various species, but those on the same moth are also found to differ. Of the scales, some are so long and slender that they resemble hairs, except that they are a little flattened and divided at the ends; some are short and broad; some are notched at the edges, others smooth; some are nearly oval, while others are triangular: they are mostly furnished with a short stalk or stem to fix them to the wing. With the microscope, a variety of large stripes or ribs are to be discovered; between these larger lines, minuter ones may be seen with a deep magnifier. The larger stripes rise in general from the exterior notches; some have a rib running down the middle, through their whole length. The upper and under parts of the wing are equally supplied with them. The regular arrangement of these plates, one beside and partly covering the other, as in the tiling of an house, is best seen by examining a wing in the opake microscope. The prodigious number of small scales which cover the wings of these beautiful insects, is a sure proof of their utility to them, because they are given by HIM who makes nothing in vain. That the lively and variegated colours, which adorn the wings of the moth and butterfly, arise from the small scales or plates that are planted therein, is very evident from this, that if they be brushed off from it, the wing is perfectly transparent: but whence this profusion and difference of colour on the same wing? is a question as difficult to resolve, as that of Prior, when he asks. Why does one climate and one soil endue  The blushing poppy with a crimson hue,  Yet leave the lilly pale, and tinge the violet blue?  As the wings of the moths and butterflies are very light, they can support themselves for a long time in the air; their manner of flying is ungraceful, generally moving in a zigzag line, to the right and to the left, alternately ascending and descending; this undulating motion however has its uses, as it disappoints the birds who chase them in taking aim; by which means they frequently elude their pursuit, though continued for a considerable time. Dr. Hooke58 endeavoured to investigate the nature of the motions of the wings of insects; and, although he was not able, from the experiments he made, to give a satisfactory account of them, yet as they may be useful to some future inquirer, and lead him more readily into the path of truth, I hope an extract therefrom will not prove unacceptable to the reader. To investigate the mode or manner of moving their wings, he considered with attention those spinning insects that suspend, or as it were poise themselves in one place in the air, without rising or falling, or even moving backwards or forwards; by looking down on these, he could, by a kind of faint shadow, perceive the utmost extremes of the vibratory motion of their wings; the shadow, while they were thus suspended, was not very long, but was lengthened when they endeavoured to fly forwards. He next tried by fixing the legs of a fly upon the top of the stalk of a feather with glue, wax, c. and then making it endeavour to fly away; he was thereby able to view it in any posture. From hence he collected, that the extreme limits of the vibrations were usually somewhat about the length of the body distant from each other, often shorter, and sometimes longer. The foremost limit was generally a little above the back, and the hinder one somewhat beneath the belly; between these, to judge by the sound, they seemed to move with an equal velocity. The manner of their moving them, if a just idea can be formed by the shadow of the wing, and a consideration of its nature and structure, seemed to be this: the wing being supposed to be in the extreme limit, it is then nearly horizontal, the forepart only being a little depressed; in this situation the wing moves to the lower limit; before it arrives at this, the hinder part begins to move fastest; the area of the wing begins to dip behind, and in that posture it seems to be moved to the upper limit back again. These vibrations, judging by the sound, and comparing them with a string tuned in unison thereto, consist of many hundreds, if not thousands, in a second of time. The powers of the governing faculty of the insect, and the vivacity of its sensations, whereby every organ is stimulated to act with so much velocity and regularity, surpass our present comprehension. 58 Hookes Micrographia, p. 172. PEDES THE FEET, AND LEGS OF INSECTS. These are admirably adapted for their intended service, to give the most convenient and proper motion, and, from the variety in their construction, their various articulations, c. furnish the microscopic observer with an abundance of curious and interesting objects: the most general number is six; many of the class aptera have eight, as the spider; the crab has ten; the oniscus fourteen; the julus has from seventy to onehundred and twenty on each side. The legs of those insects that have not more than ten, are affixed to the trunk; while those that exceed that number, have part fixed to the trunk, the rest to the abdomen. The legs of insects are generally divided into four parts. The first, which is usually the largest, is called the femur; the second, or tibia, is joined to the former, and is commonly of the same size throughout, and longer than the femur; this is followed by the third part, which is distinguished by the name of tarsus, or foot; it is composed of several joints, the one articulated to the other, the number of rings varying in different insects; the tarsus is terminated by the unguis, or claw. The writers on natural history, in order to render their descriptions clear and accurate, have given several names to the legs of insects, from the nature of the motions produced by them. Thus cursorii, from that of running; these are the most numerous. The saltatorii, those that are used for leaping; the thighs of these are remarkably large, by which means they possess considerable strength and power to leap to great distances. The natatorii, those that serve as oars for swimming; the feet of these are flat and edged with hairs, possessing a proper surface to strike against the water, as in the dytiscus, notonecta, c. Such feet as have no claws are termed mutici. The chel, or claws, are an enlargement of the extremity of the fore feet, each of which is furnished with two lesser claws, which act like a thumb and finger, as in the crab. The under part of the feet in some insects is covered with a kind of brush or sponge, by which they are enabled to walk with ease, on the most polished substances, and in situations from which it would seem they must necessarily fall. Motion is one of the principal phenomena of nature; it is as it were the soul of our system, and is as admirable in the smallest animal, as in the universe at large. It is the principal agent in producing all that diversity and change which perpetually affect every object in the creation. The motions of animals are proportioned to their weight and structure, a flea can leap to the distance of at least two hundred times its own length; were an elephant, a camel, or an horse to leap in the same proportion, their weight would crush them to atoms. The same remark is applicable to spiders, worms, and other insects; the softness of their texture, and the comparative smallness of their specific gravity, enable them to fall without injury from heights that would prove fatal to larger and heavier animals.59 59 The parts of some of the larger animals are, however, so admirably constructed for swiftness, as to enable them to perform surprizing acts of agility; for instance, the Siberian jerboa, mus saliens, Pennant; this animal springs forward by successive leaping so very nimbly, that it is said to be very difficult for a man well mounted to overtake it; it is about the size of a large rat. The kanguroo, opossum of Pennant, macropus giganteus, Shaw, leaps to so uncommon a height, and to so great a distance, as to outstrip the swiftest greyhound; its size is that of a fullgrown sheep. Accurate coloured figures of both these extraordinary animals are given in that elegant work, the Naturalists Miscellany. EDIT. Many insects can only move the thigh in a vertical direction, while others can move it in a variety of ways. The progressive motion of insects, and the various methods employed to effect it, will be found a very curious and important subject, and well worthy the attention of the naturalist. The intelligent mechanic will not find it lost labour if he bestow some time on the same subject. Very little has been done on this head, and that principally by Reaumur, in his excellent Memoires; and by M. Weiss, in a Memoir published in the Journal de Physique for 1771. The reader may also consult Borelli de Motu Animalium. OF THE TAIL AND STING OF INSECTS. Cauda, the tail, terminates the abdomen, and is constructed in a wonderful manner for answering the purposes for which it is formed, namely, to direct the motion of the insect, to serve as an instrument of defence, or for depositing the eggs; the figure and size thereof varying in each genus and its families. In most insects it is simple, simplex, and yet capable of being extended or drawn back at pleasure; in others, elongata, elongated, as in the crab and scorpion; setacea, shaped like a bristle, as in the raphidia; triseta, with three appendages like bristles, as in the ephemera; in some it is forked, furcata, as in the podura; and in others it is furnished with a pair of forceps, forcipata, as in the forficula; in the blatta, grylli, and others, it is foliosa, or like a leaf; in the scorpion and panorpa it is telifera, furnished with a dart or sting. Further particulars may be obtained from the Philosophia Entomologica of Fabricius. Aculeus, or the sting, is an instrument with which insects wound and instil a poison; the sting generally proceeds from the under part of the last ring of the belly: in some it is sharp and pointed, in others serrated or formed like a saw. It is used by many insects both as an offensive and defensive weapon; by others it is only used to pierce the substances where they mean to deposit their eggs. This instrument cannot be properly seen or known, but with the assistance of a microscope. OF THE STING OF A BEE. Of bees, it is only the labourers and the queen that have stings. The apparatus is of a very curious construction, fitted for inflicting a wound, and at the same time conveying poison into that wound. The apparatus consists of two piercers conducted in a sheath, groove, or director. This groove is rather large at the base, but terminates in a point; it is affixed to the last scale of the upper side of the abdomen by thirteen thin scales, six on each side, and one behind the rectum. These scales inclose the rectum all round, and are attached to each other by thin membranes which allow of a variety of motions; three of them are however attached more closely to a round and curved process, which comes from the basis of the groove in which the sting lies, as also to the curved arms of the sting which spread out externally. The two stings may be said to begin by those two curved processes at their union with the scales, and converging towards the groove at its base, which they enter, and then pass along to its point. The two stings are serrated or notched towards the points; they can be thrust out a little way, and drawn within it. These parts are all moved by very strong muscles, which give motions in almost all directions, but most particularly outwards. It is wonderful how deep they will pierce solid bodies with this sting. To perform this by mere force, two things are necessary, power of muscles, and strength of sting; neither of which they seem to possess in a sufficient degree. Mr. J. Hunter thinks that it cannot be by simple force, because the least pressure bends the sting in any direction. It is probable that the serrated edges may assist, by cutting their way like a saw. The apparatus for the poison consists of two small ducts, which are the glands that secrete the poison; these lie in the abdomen among the air cells, they soon however unite into one oblong bag; at the opposite end of which a duct passes out, which runs towards the angle where the two stings meet, and, entering between them, forms a canal by the union of the two stings at this point. From the serrated construction of the stings the bee can seldom disengage them, and hence, when they pass into materials of too strong a nature, the bee generally leaves them behind, and often a part of the bowels therewith.60 60 Phil. Trans. for 1792, page 189. DISTINGUISHING CRITERIA OF INSECTS. It has already been observed, that the bodies of insects are covered with a hard skin, answering the purpose of an internal skeleton, and forming one of the characters by which they are distinguished from other animals. This external covering is very strong in those insects which, from their manner of life, are particularly liable to great friction, or violent compression; but is more tender and delicate in such as are not so exposed. The skin of insects, like that of larger animals, is porous; the pores in some species are very large; many insects often change or cast off their skin; this exuvia forms an excellent object for the microscope. Another distinguishing criterion of insects is the colour of their circulating fluid or blood, which is never red; this, at first sight, seems liable to some objections, on account of the drop of red liquor which is often procured from small insects when squeezed or pressed to pieces. It does not appear, however, that this is the blood of the little animal; when it existed as a worm there was no such appearance, and when transformed to the perfect, or fly state, it is only found in the eye, and not in the body, which would be the case if it circulated in the veins of the insect. It is probable there is a circulation of some fluid analogous to the blood in most insects: with the assistance of the microscope this circulation may be perceived in many; but the circulating liquor is not red. To these discriminating characteristics we may also add the following particulars: 1. That the body of insects is divided by incisur, or transversal divisions, from whence they take their name. 2. That they are furnished with antenn, which are placed upon the fore part of the head; these are jointed and moveable in various directions. 3. That no insect in its perfect state, or after it has gone through all its transformations, has less than six legs, though many have more. There are some moths, whose two fore feet are so small, as scarcely to entitle them to that name. 4. That insects have neither the organs of smell nor hearing; at least they have not as yet been discovered, though it is reported that Fabricius has lately found and described the organs of hearing in a lobster.61 61 That many insects are susceptible of a shrill or loud noise, is a fact so well ascertained, as to be indisputable; but in what manner, or by what organs the sensation is conveyed, is not so evident; Barbut, however, supposes them to possess the sense of hearing in a very distinct manner. Many insects, he observes, are well known to be endued with the power of uttering sounds, viz. large beetles, bees, wasps, common flies, gnats, c. The sphinx atropos squeaks, when hurt, nearly as loud as a mouse: this faculty certainly must be intended for some purpose, and as they vary their cry occasionally, it appears designed to give notice of pleasure or pain, or some affection in the creature which possesses it. The knowledge of their sounds, says he, is undoubtedly confined to their tribe, and is a language intelligible to them only; saving when violence obliges the animal to exert the voice of nature in distress, craving compassion; then all animals understand the doleful cry; for instance, attack a bee or wasp near the hive or nest, or a few of them; the consequence will be, the animal or animals, by a different tone of voice will express his or their disapprobation or pain; that sound is known to the hive to be plaintive, and that their brother or brethren require their assistance, and the offending party seldom escapes with impunity. Now, if they had not the sense of hearing, they could not have known the danger their brother or brethren were in, by the alteration of their tone. Another proof, which he reckons still more decisive, was taken from his observation on a spider, which had made a very large web on a wooden railing, and was at the time in a cavity behind one of the rails, at a considerable distance from the part where a fly had entangled himself; the spider became immediately sensible of it, though, from the situation of the rail, he could not possibly have seen the fly. This observation, however, cannot be considered as conclusive, as it is very probable that the spider was alarmed by the tremulous motion of the threads of the web occasioned by the fluttering of the fly, which he might well know how to distinguish from their vibration by the wind. It is this authors opinion, that the organ of hearing is situated in the antenn; he likewise supposes that the organs of smell reside in the palpi or feelers. For his reasoning on these subjects, see the Genera Insectorum, Preface, p. vii.  seq. EDIT. 5. That they do not respire air by the mouth, but that they inspire and exhale it by means of organs which are placed on the body. 6. That they move the jaws from right to left, not up and down. 7. That they have neither eyelid nor pupil. To these we may also add, that the mechanism resulting from the LIFE of insects is not of so compound a nature as in animals of a larger size. They have less variety of organs, though some of them are more multiplied; and it is by the number and situation of these that their rank in the great scale of beings is to be determined. These characters are often united in the same insect; there are, however, some species in which one or two of them are wanting. The student in entomology, who wishes to attain a proper knowledge of the science, and indeed every microscopic observer, desirous of availing himself of the discoveries of others, and of communicating intelligibly his own, will find it necessary to make himself conversant with the various classes, genera, c. into which insects have been divided by Linnus. Every system has its defects, and probably some may be found in that of this truly celebrated naturalist, but the purpose of science is answered by using those discriminations which are generally adopted. The following general idea of the Linnan classes may serve as a foundation for this knowledge: a more particular account may be obtained by consulting the undermentioned works. Institutions of Entomology, a translation of Linnuss Ordines et Genera Insectorum, or systematic arrangement of insects, c. by Thomas Pattinson Yeats. Fundamenta Entomologi, or an Introduction to the Knowledge of Insects, translated from Linnus by W. Curtis, the ingenious author of Flora Londinensis, the Botanical Magazine, c. The Genera Insectorum of Linnus, exemplified by various Specimens of English Insects, drawn from Nature, by James Barbut.62 62 This work contains two excellent plates, illustrative of the Distinctions of the Ordines and Genera Insectorum, by their antenn, tarsi of the feet, c. EDIT. Class the first. COLEOPTERA. The insects of this class have four wings; the upper ones, called the elytra, are crustaceous, being of a hard horny substance; these, when shut, form a longitudinal suture down the back, as in the scarabus, melolontha, or cockchaffer, c. 2. HEMIPTERA. These have also four wings; but the elytra are different, being half crustaceous, half membranaceous: the wings do not form a longitudinal suture, but extend the one over the other, as in the gryllus, grasshopper, c. 3. LEPIDOPTERA. Those which have four membranaceous wings covered with fine scales, appearing to the naked eye like powder or meal, as in the butterfly and moth. 4. NEUROPTERA. These have four membranaceous transparent wings, which are generally reticulated, the tail without a sting, as in the libellula, or dragon fly. 5. HYMENOPTERA. These, like the preceding class, have four membranaceous naked wings; but the abdomen is furnished with a sting, as in the bee, wasp, ichneumon, c. 6. DIPTERA. These have only two wings, and are furnished with halteres, or poisers, instead of under wings, as in the common house fly, gnat, c. 7. APTERA. These are distinguished by having no wings, as in the spider, louse, acarus, c. OF THE TRANSFORMATION OF INSECTS. Insects are farther distinguished from other animals by the wonderful changes that all those of the winged species without exception, and some which are destitute of wings, must pass through, before they arrive at the perfection of their nature. Most animals retain, during their whole life, the same form which they receive at their birth; but insects go through wonderful exterior and interior changes, insomuch that the same individual, at its birth and middle state, differs essentially from that under which it appears when arrived at a state of maturity; and this difference is not confined to marks, colour, or texture, but is extended to their form, proportion, motion, organs, and habits of life. The ancient writers on natural history were not unacquainted with these transformations, but the ideas they entertained of them were very imperfect and often erroneous. The changes are produced in so sudden a manner, that they seem like the metamorphoses recorded in the fables of the ancients, and it is not improbable that those fables owe their origin to the transformation of insects. It was not till towards the latter end of the last century that any just conception of this subject was formed; the mystery was then unveiled by those two great anatomists Malpighi and Swammerdam, who observed these insects under every appearance, and traced them through all their forms; by dissecting them at the time just preceding their changes, they were enabled to prove that the moth and butterfly grow and strengthen themselves, that their members are formed and unfolded under the figure of the insect we call a caterpillar, and that the growth was effected by a developement of parts; they also shewed that it is not difficult to exhibit in these all the parts of the future moth, as its wings, legs, antenn, c. and consequently that the changes which are apparently sudden to our eyes, are gradually formed under the skin of the animal, and only appear sudden to us, because the insect then gets rid of a case which had before concealed its real members. By this case it is preserved from injuries, till its wings, and every other part of its delicate frame are in a condition to bear the impulse of the sun, and the action of the air naked; when all the parts are grown firm, and ready to perform their several offices, the perfect animal appears in the form of its parent. Though these discoveries dissipated the false wonders of the metamorphoses that the world before believed, they created a fund of real admiration by the discovery of the truth. These transformations clearly prove, that without experience every thing in nature would appear a mystery; so much so, that a person unacquainted with the transformation of the caterpillar to the chrysalis, and of this to the fly, would consider them as three distinct species; for who, by the mere light of nature, or the powers of reason unaided by experience, could believe that a butterfly, adorned with four beautiful wings, furnished with a long spiral proboscis or tongue, instead of a mouth, and with six legs, proceeded from a disgusting hairy caterpillar, provided with jaws and teeth, and fourteen feet? Without experience, who could imagine that a long white smooth soft worm hid under the earth, should be transformed into a black crustaceous beetle? Nor could any one, from considering them in their perfect state, have discovered the relation which they bear to the several changes of state, and their corresponding forms, through which they have passed, and which are to appearance as distinct as difference can make them. The life of those insects which pass through these various changes, may be divided into four principal parts, each of which will be found truly worthy of the utmost attention of the microscopic observer. The first change is from the EGG into the LARVA, or, as it is more generally called, into the worm or caterpillar. From the LARVA, it passes into the PUPA, or chrysalis state. From the PUPA, into the IMAGO, or fly state. Few subjects can be found that are more expressive of the extensive goodness of Divine Providence, than these transformations, in which we find the occasional and temporary parts and organs of these little animals suited and adapted with the most minute exactness to the immediate manner and convenience of their existence; which again are shifted and changed, upon the insects commencing a new scene and state of action. In its larva state the insect appears groveling, heavy, and voracious, in the form of a worm, with a long body composed of successive rings; crawling along by the assistance of these, or small little hooks, which are placed on the side of the body. Its head is armed with strong jaws, its eyes smooth, entirely deprived of sex, the blood circulating from the hind part towards the head. It breathes through small apertures, which are situated on each side of the body, or through one or more tubes placed in the hinder part thereof. While it is in the larva state, the insect is as it were masked, and its true appearance concealed; for under this mask the more perfect form is hidden from the human eye. In the pupa, or chrysalis state, the insect may be compared to a child in swaddling cloathes; its members are all folded together under the breast, and inclosed within one or more coverings, remaining there without motion. While in this state, no insects but those of the hemiptera class, take any nourishment. The change is effected various ways; in some insects the skin of the larva opens, and leaves a passage, with all its integuments; in others, the skin hardens and becomes a species of cone, which entirely conceals the insect; others form or spin cones for themselves, and in this state they remain till the parts have acquired sufficient firmness, and are ready to perform their several offices. The insect then casts off the spoils of its former state, wakes from a deathlike inactivity, breaks as it were the inclosures of the tomb, throws off the dusky shroud, and appears in its imago or perfect form; for it has now attained the state of organical perfection, which answers to the rank it is to hold in the corporeal world: the structure of the body, the alimentary organs, and those of motion, are materially changed. It is now furnished with wings magnificently adorned, soars above and despises its former pursuits, wafts the soft air, chooses its mate, and transmits its nature to a succeeding race. Those members, which in the preceding state were wrapped up, soft, and motionless, now display themselves, grow strong, and are put in exercise. The interior changes are as considerable as those of the exterior form, and that in proportion as the first state differs from the last; some organs acquire greater strength and firmness, others are rendered more delicate; some are suppressed, and some unfolded, which did not seem to exist in the former stages of its life. OF THE LARVA STATE OF INSECTS. As the larv or caterpillars of the moth and butterfly63 form the most numerous family among the tribe of insects, I shall first describe them, and their various changes from this state to their last and perfect form, and then proceed to those insects which differ most from the caterpillar in one or all of their various changes. 63 Butterflies are distinguished from moths by the time of their flying abroad, and by their antenn; the butterflies appear by day, their antenn are generally terminated by a little knob; the moths fly mostly in the evening, and their antenn are either setaceous or pectinated. The greater part of those insects which come forth in spring or summer, perish or disappear at the approach of winter; there are very few, the period of whose life exceeds that of a year; some survive the rigours of winter, being concealed and buried under ground; many are hid in the bark of trees, and others in the chinks of old walls; some, like the caterpillar of the browntailed moth,64 at the approach of winter not only secure and strengthen the web in which the society inhabit, and thus protect themselves from impertinent intruders, but each individual also spins a case for itself, where it rests in torpid security, notwithstanding the inclemency of the season, till the spring animates it afresh, and informs it, that the allbountiful Author of nature has provided food convenient for it. Many that are hatched in the autumn retire and live under the earth during the winter months, but in the spring come out, feed, and proceed onward to their several changes; while no small part pass the colder months in their chrysalis or pupa state: but the greater number of the caterpillar race remain in the egg, being carefully deposited by the parent fly in those places where they will be hatched with the greatest safety and success; in this state the latent principle of life is preserved till the genial influences of the spring call it into action, and bring forth the young insect to share the banquet that nature has provided. 64 This moth was uncommonly numerous and destructive near London in the year 1782, and, aided by the predictions of an empirical imposter, occasioned a considerable alarm in the minds of the ignorant and superstitious. The judicious publication of a short history of the insect, by Mr. Curtis, in some measure contributed to dissipate their fears. EDIT. All caterpillars are hatched from the egg, and when they first proceed from it are generally small and feeble, but grow in strength as they increase in size. The body is divided into twelve rings; the head is connected with the first, and is hard and crustaceous. No caterpillar of the moth or butterfly has less than eight, or more than sixteen feet; the six first are crustaceous, pointed, and fixed to the three first rings of the body; these feet are the covering to the six future feet of the moth; the other six feet are soft and flexible or membranaceous; they vary both in figure and number, and are proper only to the larva state; with respect to their external figure, they are either smooth or hairy, soft to the touch, or hard like shagreen, beautifully adorned with a great variety of the most lively teints; on each side of the body nine little oval holes are placed, which are generally considered as the organs of respiration. There are on each side of the head of the caterpillar five or six little black spots, which are supposed to be its eyes. These creatures vary in size, from half an inch long to four and five inches. The caterpillar, whose life is one continued succession of changes, often moults its skin before it attains its full growth; not one of them arrives at perfection, without having cast its skin at least once or twice. These changes are the more remarkable, because when the caterpillar moults, it is not simply the skin that is changed; for we find in the exuvia, the skull, the jaws, and all the exterior parts, both scaly and membranaceous, which compose its upper and under lip, its antenn, palpi, and even those crustaceous pieces within the head, which serve as a fixed basis to a number of muscles; we further find in the exuvia, the spiracula, the claws, and sheaths of the anterior limbs, and in general all that is visible of the caterpillar. The new organs were under the old ones as in a sheath, so that the caterpillar effects the changes by withdrawing itself from the old skin, when it finds itself lodged in too narrow a compass. But to produce this change, to push off the old covering, and bring forward the new, is a work of labour and time. Those caterpillars who live in society, and have a kind of nest or habitation, retire there to change their skins, fixing the hooks of the feet, during the operation, firmly in the web of their nest. Some of the solitary species spin at this time a slender web, to which they affix themselves. A day or two before the critical moment approaches, the insect ceases to eat, and loses its usual activity; in proportion as the time of change advances, the colour of the caterpillar becomes more feeble, the skin hardens and withers, and is soon incapable of receiving those juices by which it was heretofore nourished and supported. The insect may now be seen, at distant intervals, to elevate its back, and stretch itself to its utmost extent; sometimes to lift up the head, move it a little from side to side, and then let it fall again; near the change, the second and third rings are seen to swell considerably; by these internal efforts the old parts are stretched and distended as much as possible, an operation which is attended with great difficulty, as the new parts are all weak and tender. However, by repeated exertions, all the vessels which conveyed the nourishment to the exterior skin are disengaged, and cease to act, and a slit is made on the back, generally beginning at the second or third ring; the new skin may now be just perceived, being distinguished by the freshness and brightness of its colour; the caterpillar then presses the body like a wedge into this slit, by which means it is soon opened from the first down to the fourth ring; this renders it large enough to afford the insect a passage, which it soon effects in a very curious manner. The caterpillar generally fasts a whole day after each moulting, for it is necessary that the parts should acquire a certain degree of consistency, before it can live and act in its usual manner; many also perish under the operation. The body having grown under the old skin, till the insect was become too large for it, it always appears much larger after it has quitted the exuvia: now as the growth was gradual, and the parts soft, the skin pressed them together, so that they lay in a small space; but as soon as the skin is cast off, they are as it were liberated from their bonds, and distend themselves considerably. Some caterpillars, in changing their skin, from smooth, become covered with fine hair; while others, that were covered with this fine hair, have the last skin smooth.65 The silkworm, previous to its chrysalis or pupa state, casts its skin four times; the first is cast on the tenth, eleventh, or twelfth day, according to the nature of the season; the second, in five or six days after; the third in five or six days more, and the fourth and last in six or seven days after the third. 65 Valmont de Bomare Dictionnaire Universel dHistoire Naturelle, vol. ii. 2d edit. 12mo. p. 394. Before we describe the change of the larva into the pupa state, it will be necessary to give the reader an account of those names by which entomologists distinguish the different appearances of the insect in its pupa state. It is called Coarctata, when it is straitened or confined to a case of a globular form, without the smallest resemblance to the structure of the insect it contains, as in the diptera. It is called Obtecta, disguised or shrouded, when the insect is inveloped in a crustaceous covering, consisting of two parts, one of which surrounds the head and thorax, the other the abdomen. It is termed Incompleta, when the pupa has perceptible wings and feet, but cannot move them, as in most of the hymenoptera. Semicompleta; these can walk or run, but have only the rudiments of wings. The difference between the pupa and the larva of this class is very inconsiderable, as they eat, walk, and act, just as they did in their primitive state; the only remarkable difference is a kind of case which contains the wings that are to be developed in their fly state. Completa; those designed by this name take their perfect form at their birth, and do not pass, like other insects, through a variety of states, though they often change their skin. It is a general rule, that all winged insects pass through the larva and pupa state, before they assume their perfect form: there are also insects which have no wings, and yet undergo similar transformations, as the bed bug, the flea, c. Other insects, which have no wings, and which always remain without them, never pass through the pupa state, but are subject to considerable changes, as well with respect to the number, as the figure of their parts; thus mites have four pair of feet, and two smaller ones at the fore part of the body, near the head; yet some of these are born with only three pair of feet, the fourth is not perceived till some time after their birth.66 The figure of the monoculus quadricornis of Linnus (Fauna Suecica, edit. Stockholm, 1761, No. 2049) changes considerably after its birth.67 The julus is an insect with a great number of feet, some species having an hundred pair and upwards. M. De Geer has given a description of one with more than twohundred pair,68 and yet these at their birth have only three pair, the rest are not perceived till some time after. 66 De Geer Memoires pour servir a lHistoire des Insectes, tom. 1. p. 154. 67 Ibid. 68 Memoires des Scavans etrangers, tom. 3, p. 61. OF THE CHANGE FROM THE LARVA TO THE PUPA STATE. I shall now return to the caterpillar, and take notice of the care and provision it makes to pass from the larva state into that of the pupa or chrysalis; which is, in general, a state of imperfection, inactivity, and weakness, through which the insect, when it has obtained a proper size, must pass; and in which it remains often for months, sometimes for a whole year, exposed, without any means of escaping, to every event; and in which it receives the necessary preparations for its perfect state, and is enabled once more to appear upon the transitory scene of time. During its passage from one state to the other, as well as when it is in the pupa form, the microscopical observer will find many opportunities of exercising his instrument. The transitions of the caterpillar from one state to another, are to it a subject of the most interesting nature; for in passing through them, it often runs the risk of losing its life, that precious boon of heaven, which is ever accompanied with a degree of delight, proportioned to the state in which the creature exists, and the use it makes of the gift it has received. If the caterpillar could therefore foresee the efforts and exertions it must make to put off its present form, and the state of weakness and impotence under which it must exist while in the pupa state, it would undoubtedly choose the most convenient place, and the most advantageous situation, for the performance of this arduous operation; one where it would be the least exposed to danger, at a time when it had neither strength to resist, nor swiftness to avoid the attack of an enemy. All these necessary instructions the caterpillar receives from the influence of an allregulating Providence, which conveys the proper information to it by its own sensations: hence, when the critical period approaches, it proceeds as if it knew what would be the result of its operations. Different species prepare themselves for the change different ways, suited to their nature and the length of time they are to remain in this state. When the caterpillar has attained to its full growth, and the parts of the future butterfly are sufficiently formed beneath its skin, it prepares for its change into the pupa state; it seeks for a proper place in which to perform the important business: the different methods employed by these little animals to secure this state of rest, may be reduced to four: 1. Some spin webs or cones, in which they inclose themselves. 2. Others conceal themselves in little cells, which they form under ground. 3. Some suspend themselves by their posterior extremity; 4. While others are suspended by a girdle that goes round their body. I shall describe the variety in these, as well as the industry used in constructing them, after we have gone through the manner in which the caterpillar prepares itself for, and passes through the pupa state. Preparatory to the change, it ceases to take any food, empties itself of all the excrementitious matter that is contained in the intestines, voiding at the same time the membrane which served as a lining to these and the stomach. The intestinal canal is composed of two principal tubes, the one inserted into the other; the external tube is compact and fleshy, the internal one is thin and transparent; it is the inner tube, which lines the stomach and intestines, that is voided with the excrement before the change. It generally perseveres in a state of rest and inactivity for several days, which affords the external and internal organs that are under the skin an opportunity of gradually unfolding themselves. In proportion as the change into the pupa form approaches, the body is observed often to extend and contract itself; the hinder part is that which is first disengaged from the caterpillar skin; when this part of the body is free, the animal contracts and draws it up towards the head; it then liberates itself in the same manner from the two succeeding rings, consequently the insect is now lodged in the fore part of its caterpillar covering; the half which is abandoned remains flaccid and empty, while the fore part is swoln and distended. The animal, by strong efforts, still forcing itself against the fore part of the skin, bursts the skull into three pieces, and forms a longitudinal opening in the three first rings of the body; through this it proceeds, drawing one part after the other, by alternately lengthening and shortening, swelling and contracting the body and different rings; or else, by pushing back the exuvia, gets rid of its odious reptile form. The caterpillar, thus stripped from its skin, is what we call the pupa, chrysalis, or aurelia, in which the parts of the future moth are inclosed in a crustaceous covering, but are so soft, that the slightest touch will discompose them. The exterior part of the chrysalis is at first exceedingly tender, soft, and partly transparent, being covered with a viscous fluid; this soon dries up, thickens, and forms a new covering for the animal, capable of resisting external injuries; a case, which is at the same time the sepulchre of the caterpillar, and the cradle of the moth; where, as under a veil, this wonderful transformation is carried on. The pupa has been called a chrysalis, or creature made of gold, from the resplendent yellow colour with which some kinds are adorned. Reaumur has shewn us whence they derive this rich colour; that it proceeds from two skins, the upper one a beautiful brown, which lies upon or covers a highly polished and smooth white skin: the light reflected from the last, in passing through, gives it the golden yellow, in the same manner as this colour is often given to leather; so that the whole appears gilt, although no gold enters into the tincture. The chrysalis of the common white butterfly furnishes a most beautiful object for the lucernal opake microscope. Those who are desirous to discover distinctly the various members of the moth in the pupa, should examine it before the forementioned fluid is dried up, when it will be found to be only the moth with the members glued together; these, by degrees, acquire sufficient force to break their covering, and disengage themselves from the bands which confine them. While in this state, all the parts of the moth may be traced out, though so folded and laid together, that it cannot make any use of them; nor is it expedient that it should, as they are too soft and tender to be used, and pass through this state merely to be hardened and strengthened. To examine the moth concealed under the skin of a caterpillar, one of them should be taken at the last change; when the skin begins to open, it should be drowned in spirit of wine, or some strong liquor, and be left therein for some days, that it may take more consistency and harden itself; the skin of the caterpillar may then be easily removed: the chrysalis, or feeble moth, will be first discovered, after which the tender moth may be traced out, and its wings, legs, antenn, c. may be opened and displayed by an accurate observer. The parts of the moth or butterfly are not disposed exactly in the same manner in the body of the caterpillar, as when left naked in the chrysalis. The wings are longer and narrower, being wound up into the form of a cord, and the antenn are rolled up on the head; the tongue is also twisted up and laid upon the head, but in a very different manner from what it is in the perfect animal, and different from that which it lies in within the chrysalis; so that it is by a progressive and gradual change, that the interior parts are prepared for the pupa and moth state. The eggs, hereafter to be deposited by the moth, are also to be found, not only in the chrysalis, but in the caterpillar itself, arranged in their natural and regular order. While in this state, the creature generally remains immoveable, and seems to have no other business but patiently to attend the time of its change, which depends on the parts becoming hard and firm, and the transpiration of that humidity which keeps them soft; the powers of life are as it were absorbed in a deep sleep; the organs of sensation seem obliterated, being imprisoned by coverings more or less strong, the greater part remains fixed in those situations which the caterpillar had selected for them till their final metamorphosis; some, however, are capable of changing place, but their movements are slow and painful. The time, therefore, which the moth or butterfly remains in the pupa state is not always the same, varying in different species, and depending also upon the warmth of the weather, and other adventitious circumstances; some remain in that situation for a few weeks; others do not attain their perfect form for eight, nine, or eleven months: this often depends on the season in which they assume the pupa form, or rather on the time of their birth. Some irregularities are also occasioned by the different temperature of the air, by which they are retarded or accelerated, so as to be brought forward in the season best suited to their nature and the ends of their existence. I have heard of an instance, where the pupa, produced from caterpillars of the same eggs, nourished in the same manner, and which all spun up within a few days of each other in the autumn, came into the fly state at three different and distant periods; viz. onethird of them the spring following their change, onethird more the succeeding spring, and the remainder the spring after, making three years from their first hatching; a further and manifest proof of the beauty and wisdom of the laws of Divine order, which are continually operating for the best interests of all created beings. As the transformation of insects is retarded by cold, and accelerated by heat, the ordinary period of these changes may sometimes be altered, by placing them in different degrees of heat or cold; by these they may be awakened sooner to a new state of existence, or kept in one of profound sleep.69 69 Reaumur Memoires sur les Insectes, tom. 2, mem. 1. There are some caterpillars which remain in their cone eight or nine months before they acquire the complete pupa state; so that their duration in that form is much shorter than it naturally appears to be. OF THE PREPARATION OF THE CATERPILLAR FOR THE METAMORPHOSES. The industry of the caterpillar, in securing itself for its change into the chrysalis, must not be passed by; not only because it naturally leads the reader to consider and admire that divine agency, by which the insect is informed, but because the different modes it makes use of cannot be properly investigated, without the assistance of glasses, it therefore consequently becomes a proper subject for the microscope; we shall select from a great variety, a few instances, to animate the reader in these researches. Some caterpillars, towards the time of their change, suspend themselves from the branch of a tree, with the head downwards; in this position they assume the pupa form, and from thence immerge a butterfly or moth. In order to secure itself in this position, the insect covers with threads that part of the branch from which it means to suspend itself; it places these in different directions, and then covers them with other threads, laying on several successive thicknesses, each new layer being smaller in size than that which preceded it; forming, when finished, a little cone or hillock of silk, as will be found when examined by the microscope. The caterpillar hooks itself by the hinder feet to this hillock, and when it has found by several trials that it is strongly fixed thereto, throws itself forward, letting the body fall with the head downwards. Soon after it is thus suspended, it bends the fore part of the body, keeping this bent posture for some time, then straitening the body, again in a little time bending it, and so on, repeating this operation till it has formed a slit in the skin upon the back; part of the pupa soon forces itself through this, and extends the slit as far as the last crustaceous feet; the pupa then forces upwards the skin, as we would push down a stocking, by means of its little hooks and the motion of the body, till it has slipped it off to that part from which the caterpillar had suspended itself. But the pupa has still to disengage itself from this small packet, to which the exuvia is now reduced: here the observer will find himself interested for the little animal, anxious to learn how the pupa will quit this skin, and how it will be enabled to fix itself to the hillock, as it has neither arms nor legs. A little attention soon explains the operation, and extricates the observer from his embarrassment. It seizes the exuvia by the rings of the body, and thus holds itself as it were by a pair of pincers; then, by bending the tail, it frees itself from the old skin, and by the same method soon suspends itself to the silken mount; it lengthens out the hinder part of the body, and clasps, by means of its rings, the various foldings of the exuvia, one after another; thus creeping backward on the spoils, till it can reach the hillock with the tail; which, when examined by the microscope, will be found to be furnished with hooks to fix itself by. It is surprizing to see with what exactness and ease these insects perform an operation so delicate and dangerous, which is only executed once in their lives; and nought else can account for it, but the consideration that HE, who designed that the caterpillar should pass through these changes, had provided means for that end, regularly connecting the greater steps by intermediate ones, the desire of extending their species forming and acting upon the organization, till the purposes of their life are completed. Different kinds of these insects require variety in the mode of suspension; some fix themselves in an horizontal position, by a girdle which they tie round their body; this girdle appears to the naked eye as a single thread; when examined with the microscope, it will be found to be an assemblage of fine threads, lying close to each other, so fixed as to support the caterpillar, and yet leave it in full freedom to effect the changes. Like the preceding kind, it fixes the girdle to the branch of a tree; in this situation it remains for some time motionless, and then begins to bend, move, and agitate its body in a very singular manner, till it has opened the exterior covering, which it pushes off and removes much in the same manner as we have described in the preceding article, and yet with such dexterity, that the pupa remains suspended by the same girdle. OF THE IMAGO OR FLY STATE OF INSECTS. As soon as the moth acquires sufficient strength to break the bonds which surround it, and of which it is informed by its internal sensations, it makes a powerful effort to escape from its prison, and view the world with newformed eyes. The moth frees itself from the pupa with much greater ease than the pupa from the caterpillar; for the case of the pupa becomes so dry, when the moth is near the time of throwing off its covering, that it will break to pieces if it be only gently pressed between the fingers; and very few of the parts will be found, on examination, to adhere to the body. Hence, when the insect has acquired a proper degree of solidity, it does not require any great exertion to split the membrane which covers it. A small degree of motion, or a little inflation of the body, is sufficient for this purpose; these motions reiterated a few times, enlarge the hole, and afford the moth room to escape from its confinement. The opening through which they pass is always at the same part of the skin, a little above the trunk, between the wings, and a small piece which covers the head; the different fissures are generally made in the same direction. If the outer case be opened, it is easy to discover the efforts the insect makes to emancipate itself from its shell; when the operation begins, there seems to be a violent agitation in the humours contained in the little animal; the fluids seem to be driven with rapidity through all the vessels, and it is seen to agitate its legs, c. as it were struggling to get free; these efforts soon break its brittle skin. The loosening the exterior bands of the pupa is not the only difficulty many moths have to encounter with; it has often also to pierce the cone or case in which it has been inclosed, and that at a time when its members are very feeble, when it is no longer furnished with strong jaws to pierce and cut its way through; but by the regular laws of divine order, means are furnished to every creature of attaining the end for which it was produced: thus, in the present case, some of these insects are provided with a liquor with which they soften and weaken the end of the cone; some leave one end feeble, and close it only with a few threads, so that a slight effort of the head enables the moth to burst the prison doors, and immerge into day. When the moth first sees the day, it is humid and moist; but this humidity soon evaporates, the interior parts dry and harden as well as the exterior; the wings, which are wrinkled, being thick and small, then extend themselves, strengthen and harden insensibly, and the fibres which were at first flexible, become hard and stiff; so much so, that Malpighi considered them as bones: in proportion as these fibres harden, the fluid which circulates within them, and extends the wings, loses its force; so that if any extraneous circumstance prevent the motion of this fluid, at the first instant of the moths escape from its former state, the wings will then become illshaped; often expanding with such rapidity, that the naked eye cannot trace their unfolding. The wings, which were scarce half the length of the body, acquire in a few minutes their full size, so as to be nearly five times as large as they were before: nor is it the wings only which are thus increased; all their spots and colours, heretofore so minute as to be scarce discernible, are proportionably extended, so that what before appeared as only so many unmeaning and confused points, become distinct and beautiful ornaments; and those that are furnished with a tongue or trunk, curl and coil it up. When the wings are unfolded, the tongue rolled up, the moth sufficiently dried, and the different members strengthened, it takes its flight. Most of them, soon after they have attained their perfect state, void an excrementitious substance; Reaumur thinks that they eject very little, if any, during the rest of their lives. In the progress of these insects, such changes take place, as we could have formed no conception of, if the great Author of these wonders had not been pleased to reward the industrious naturalist with the discovery. If the moth be opened down the belly, and the unctuous parts which fill it, be removed, the gross artery, which has been called the heart, will be visible, and the contractions and dilatations, by which it pushes forward the liquor it contains, may be easily observed. One of the most remarkable circumstances is, that the circulation of this fluid in the moth is directly contrary to that which took place in the caterpillar; in this, the liquor moved from the tail to the head, whereas in the moth, it moves from the head to the tail; so that the fluid which answers the purposes of the blood in the moth, goes from the superior, towards the inferior parts, but in the voracious sensual caterpillar, the order is inverted, it proceeds from the inferior towards the superior parts; all its members, formerly soft, inactive, and folded up under an envelope, are expanded, strengthened, and exposed to observation. The food of the caterpillar is gross and solid, and even this it is obliged to earn with much labour and danger; but, when freed as it were from the jaws of death, and arrived at its perfect form, the purest nectar is its potion, and the air its element. It was supplied with coarse food, in the first state, by the painful operation of its teeth, which was afterwards digested by a violent trituration of the stomach. The intestines are now formed in a more delicate manner, and suited to a more pure and elegant aliment, which nature has prepared for its use from the most fragrant and beautiful flowers. Many internal parts of the caterpillar disappear in the chrysalis, and many that could not be perceived before, are now rendered visible: the interior changes are not less surprizing than those of the exterior form, and are, properly speaking, creative of them; for it is from these the exterior form originates, and with these it always corresponds. In a word, the creature that heretofore crept upon the earth, now flies freely through the air; and far from creating our aversion by its frightful prickles and foul appearance, it attracts our notice by the most elegant shape and apparel, and, from being scarce able to move from one shrub to another, acquires strength and agility to tower far above the tallest inhabitant of the forest. OF THE SILKWORM. The industry of those that spin cones or cases, in which they inclose themselves, in order to prepare for their transformation in security, is more generally known, as it is from one species of these that we derive so many benefits, namely from the silkworm, whose works afford an ornament for greatness, and add magnificence to royalty. All caterpillars undergo similar changes with it, and many in the butterfly state greatly exceed it in beauty: but the golden tissue, in which the silkworm wraps itself, far surpasses the silky threads of all the other kinds; they may indeed come forth with a variety of colours, and wings bedecked with gold and scarlet, yet they are but the beings of a summers day; both their life and beauty quickly vanish, and leave no remembrance after them; but the silkworm leaves behind it such beneficial monuments, as at once record the wisdom of its Creator, and his bounty to man.70 70 Pullein on the Culture of Silk. The substance of which the silk is formed, is a fine yellow transparent gum, contained in two reservoirs that wind about the intestines, and which, when they are unfolded, are about ten inches long; they terminate in two exceeding small orifices near the mouth, through which the silk is drawn, or spun to the degree of fineness which its occasions may require. This apparatus has been compared to the instrument used by wiredrawers, and by which gold and silver is drawn to any degree of minuteness. From each of these reservoirs proceeds a thread, which are united afterwards; so that if it be examined by the microscope, it will be found to consist of two cylinders or threads glued together, with a groove in the middle; a separation may sometimes be perceived. When the silkworm has found a convenient situation, it sets to work, first spinning some random threads, which serve to support the future superstructure; upon these it forms an oval of a loose texture, consisting of what is called the flosssilk; within this it forms a firm and more consistent ball of silk, remaining during the whole business within the circumference of the spheroid that it is forming, resting on its hinder parts, and with its mouth and fore legs directing and fastening the threads. These threads are not directed in a regular circular form, but are spun in different spots, in an infinite number of zigzag lines; so that when it is wound off, it proceeds in a very irregular manner, sometimes from one side of the cone, then from the other. This thread, when measured, has been found to be about threehundred yards long, and so fine, that eight or ten are generally rolled off into one by the manufacturers. The silkworm usually employs about three days in finishing this cone; the inside is generally smeared with a kind of gum, that is designed to keep out the rain: in this cone it assumes the pupa form, and remains therein from fifteen to thirty days, according to the warmth of the climate. When the moth is formed, it moistens the end of this cone, and by frequent motions of the head loosens the texture of the silk, so as to form a hole without breaking it. When the silkworm has acquired its perfect growth, the reservoirs of silk are full, and it is pressed by its sensations to get rid of this incumbrance, and accordingly spins a cone, the altitude and size of which are proportioned to its wants: by traversing backwards and forwards, it is relieved, and attains by an innate desire the end for which it was formed; and thus a caterpillar, whose form is rather disgusting to the human unphilosophic eye, becomes a considerable object of manufacture and trade, a source of wealth, and, from the extensive employment it affords, a blessing to thousands. The size of the cone is not always proportioned to that of the caterpillar; some that are small construct larger cones than others which exceed them in bulk. There is a caterpillar which forms its silken cone in the shape of a boat turned bottom upwards, whence it is called by Reaumur the coque en batteau; the construction is complicated, and seems to require more art than is usually attributed to this insect. It consists of two principal parts, shaped like shells, which are united with considerable skill and propriety; each shell or side is framed by itself, and formed of an innumerable quantity of minute silk rings; in the fore part there is a projection, in which a small crevice may be perceived, which serves, when opened, for the escape of the moth; the sides are connected with so much art, that they open and shut as if framed with springs; so that the cone, from which the butterfly has escaped, appears as close as that which is still inhabited. Those caterpillars which are not furnished with a silky cone, supply that want with various materials, which they possess sufficient skill to form into a proper habitation, to secure them while preparing for the perfect state; some construct theirs with leaves and branches, tying them fast together, and then strengthening the connection; others connect these leaves with great regularity; many strip themselves of their hairs, and form a mixture of hair and silk; others construct a cone of sand, or earth, cementing the particles with a kind of glue; some gnaw the wood into a kind of sawdust, and glue it together; with an innumerable variety of modes suited to their present and future state. OF THE BEETLE. To make the reader more fully acquainted with a subject which affords such abundant matter for the exercise of his microscope, I shall proceed to describe, in as concise a manner as I am able, the changes of a few insects of different classes, beginning with the beetle. The beetle is of the first or coleopterous class, having four wings. The two upper ones are crustaceous, and form a case to the lower ones; when they are shut, there is a longitudinal suture down the back: this formation of the wings is necessary, as the beetle often lives under the surface of the earth, in holes which it digs by its own industry and strength. These cases save the real wings from the damage which they might otherwise sustain, by rubbing or crushing against the sides of its abode; they serve also to keep the wings clean, and produce a buzzing noise when the animal rises in the air. The strength of this insect is astonishing; it has been estimated that, bulk for bulk, their muscles are a thousand times stronger than those of a man! The beetle is only an insect disengaged from the pupa form; the pupa is a transformation in like manner from the worm or larva, and this proceeds from the egg; so that here, as in the foregoing instances, one insect is exhibited in four different states of life, after passing through three of which, and the various inconveniences attendant on them, it is advanced to a more perfect state. When a larva, it trains a miserable existence under the earth; in the pupa form it is deprived of motion, and as it were dead; but the beetle itself lives at pleasure above and under ground, and also in the air, enjoying a higher degree of life, which it has attained by slow progression, after passing through difficulties, affliction, and death. If we judge of the rank which the beetle holds in the scale of animation, from the places where they are generally found, from the food which nourishes them, from the disgusting and odious forms of many, from their antipathy to light, and their delight in darkness, we shall not form great ideas of the dignity of their situation. But as all things are rendered subservient to the laws of divine order, it is sufficient for us to contemplate the wonders that are displayed in this and every other organ of life, for the reception of which, from the FOUNTAIN AND SOURCE OF ALL LIFE, each individual is adapted, and that in a manner corresponding to the state of existence it is to enjoy, and the energies it is called forth to represent. The egg of the rhinoceros beetle71 is of an oblong round figure, of a white colour; the shell thin, tender, and flexible; the teeth of the worm that is within the shell come to perfection before the other parts; so that as soon as it is hatched, it is capable of devouring, and nourishing itself with the wood among which it is placed. The larva or worm is curiously folded in the egg, the tail resting between the teeth, which are disposed on each side the belly; the worm in proper time breaks the shell, in the same manner as a chicken, and crawls from thence to the next substance suitable for its food. The worm, when it is hatched, is very white, has six legs, and a wrinkled naked body, but the other parts are all covered with hair; the head is then also bigger than the whole body, a circumstance which may be observed in larger animals, and which is founded on wise reasons.72 If the egg be observed from time to time while the insect is within it, the beating of the heart may be perceived. 71 Scarabus Acteon, Lin. Syst. Nat. p. 5413. 72 Swammerdams Book of Nature, pt. 1, p. 33. The eggs of the earthworm, the snail, and the beetle, will afford many subjects for the microscope, and will be found to deserve a very attentive examination. Swammerdam was accustomed to hatch them in a dish, covered with white paper, which he always kept in a moist state. To preserve these and similar eggs, they must be pierced with a fine needle; the contained liquors must be pressed out, after which they should be blown up by means of a small glass tube, and then filled with a little resin dissolved in oil of spike. The worm of the rhinoceros beetle, like other insects in the larva state, changes its skin; in order to effect which, it discharges all its excrement, and forms a convenient hole in the earth, in which it may perform the wonderful operation; for it does not, like the serpent, cast off merely an external covering, but the throat, a part of the stomach, and the inward surface of the great gut, change at the same time their skin: as if it were to increase the wonder, and to call forth our attention to these representative changes, some hundreds of pulmonary pipes cast also each its delicate skin, a transparent membrane is taken from the eyes, and the skull remains fixed to the exuvia. After the operation, the head and teeth are white and tender, though at other times as hard as bone; so that the larva, when provoked, will attempt to gnaw iron. For an accurate anatomical description of this worm, I must refer the reader to Swammerdam; he will find it, like the rest of this authors works, well worthy of his attentive perusal. To dissect it, he first killed it in spirit of wine, or suffocated it in rain water rather more than lukewarm, not taking it out from thence for some hours. This preparation prevents an improper contraction of the muscular fibres. When the time approaches for the worm to assume the pupa form, it generally penetrates deeper into the ground,73 or those places where it inhabits, to find a situation that it can more easily suit to its subsequent process. Having found a proper place, it forms with the hinder feet a polished cavity, in this it lies for sometime immoveable; after which, by voiding excrementitious substances, and by the evaporation of humidity, it becomes thinner and shorter, the skin more furrowed and wrinkled, so that it soon appears as if it were starved by degrees. If it be dissected about this period, the head, the belly, and the thorax may be clearly distinguished. While some external and internal parts are changing by a slow accretion, others are gently distended by the force of the blood and impelled humours. The body contracting itself, while the blood is propelled towards the head, forces the skull open in three parts, and the skin in the middle of the back is separated, by means of an undulating motion of the incisions of the back; at the same time the eyes, the horns, the lips, c. cast their exuvia. During this operation, a thin watery humour is diffused between the old and new skin, which renders the separation easier. The process going on gradually, the worm is at last disengaged from its skin, and the limbs and parts are, by a continual unfolding, transformed into the pupa state; after which, it twists and compresses the exuvia by the fundament, and throws it towards the hinder part under the belly. The pupa is at this time very delicate, tender, and flexible; and affords a most astonishing appearance to an attentive observer. Swammerdam thinks it is scarce to be equalled among the wonders which are displayed in the insect part of the creation; in it the future parts of the beetle are finely exhibited, so disposed and formed, as soon to be able to serve the creature in a more perfect state of life, and to put on a more elegant form. 73 The larv of those beetles which live under ground are in general heavy, idle, and voracious; on the contrary, the larv which inhabit the waters are exceedingly active. The pupa74 of this insect weighs, a little after its change, much heavier than it does in its beetle state; this is also the case with the pupa of the bee and hornet. The latter has been found to weigh ten times as much as the hornet itself; this is probably occasioned by a superabundant degree of moisture, by which these insects are kept in a state of inactivity, which may be compared to a kind of preternatural dropsy, till it is in some measure dissipated; in proportion as this moisture is evaporated, the skin hardens and dries: some days are required to exhale this superfluous moisture. If the skin be taken off at this time, many curious circumstances may be noted; but what claims our attention most is, that the horn, which is so hard in the male beetle when in a state of maturity, that it will bear to be sharpened against a grindstone,75 in the pupa state is quite soft, and more like a fluid than a solid substance. How long the scene of mutation continues is not known; some remain during the whole winter, more particularly those which quit the larva state in autumn, when a sudden cold checks their further operations, and consequently they remain in a torpid state, without any food, for several months. Some species of the beetle tribe go through all the stages of their existence in a season, while others employ near four years in the process, and live as winged insects a year. 74 Swammerdams Book of Nature, p. 144. 75 Mouffet, p. 152. When the proper time for the final change arrives, all the muscular parts grow strong, and are thus more able to shake off their last integuments, which is performed exactly in the same manner as in the passage of the insect from the larva to the pupa state; so that in this last skin, which is extremely delicate, the traces of the pulmonary tubes, that have been pulled off and turned out, again become visible. All parts of the insect, and more particularly the wings and their cases, are at this period swelled and extended by the air and fluids which are driven into them through the arteries and pulmonary tubes; the wings are now soft as wet paper, and the blood issues from them on the least wound; but when they have acquired their proper consistency, which in the elytra is very considerable, they do not exhibit the least sign of any fluid within them, though cut or torn almost asunder. The pupa being disengaged from its skin, assumes a different form, in which it is dignified with the name of a beetle, and acquires a distinction of sex, being either male or female. The insect now begins to enjoy a life far preferable to its former state of existence; from living in dirt and filth, under briars and thorns, it raises itself towards the skies, plays in the sunbeam, rejoices in its existence, and is nourished with the oozing liquors of flowers. OF THE MUSCA CHAMLEON. I shall now proceed to illustrate the nature of the different transformations in insects, by giving an account of the musca chamleon. In the worm or larva condition it lives in the water, breathes by the tail, and carries its legs within a little snout near its mouth. When the time arrives for its pupa state, it goes through the change without casting off the skin of the larva. Lastly, in the imago, or fly state, it would infallibly perish in the water, that element which had hitherto supplied it with life and motion, was not the larva by nature instructed where to choose a suitable situation for its approaching transformation. This insect is characterized by Linnus as Musca chamleon. Habitat larva in aquis dulcibus; musca supra aquam obambulare solet. In a former edition of the Fauna Suecica he called it oestrus aqu; but on a more minute examination, he found it was a musca; besides, the larv of all known oestri are nourished in the bodies of animals. The larva of this insect appears to consist of twelve annular divisions, see Plate XI. Fig. 1. by these it is separated into a head, thorax, and abdomen; but as the stomach and intestines lie equally in the thorax and abdomen, it is not easy to distinguish their limits until the insect approaches the pupa state. The parts most worthy of notice are the tail and snout. The tail is furnished with an elegant crown or circle of hair b, disposed quite round it in an annular form; by means of this the tail is supported on the surface of the water, while the worm or larva is moving therein, the body in the mean while hanging towards the bottom; it will sometimes remain in this situation for a considerable time, without the least sensible motion. When it is disposed to sink to the bottom by means of its tail, it generally bends the hairs of that part towards each other in the middle, but much closer towards the extremity; by these means a hollow space is formed, and the bladder of air pent up in it looks like a pearl, Fig. 2. Plate XI. It is by the assistance of this bubble, or little balloon, that the insect raises itself again to the surface of the water. If this bubble escape, it can replace it from the pulmonary tubes; sometimes large quantities of air may be seen to arise in bubbles from the tail of the worm to the surface of the water, and there mix with the incumbent atmosphere. This operation may be easily seen by placing the worm in a glass full of water, where it will afford a very entertaining spectacle. The snout is divided into three parts, of which that in the middle is immoveable; the two other parts grow from the sides of the former; these are moveable, vibrating in a very singular manner, like the tongues of lizards and serpents. The greatest strength of the creature is fixed in these lateral parts of the snout; it is on these that it walks when it is out of the water, appearing, as it were to walk on its mouth, using it to assist motion, as a parrot does its beak to climb, with greater advantage. We shall now consider the external figure of this worm, as it appears with the microscope. It is small toward the head, larger about those parts which may be considered as the thorax; it then again diminishes, converging at the abdomen, and terminates in a sharp tail, surrounded with hairs in the form of the rays of a star. This worm, the head and tail included, has twelve annular divisions, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, Fig. 3. Plate XI. Its skin resembles the covering of those animals that are provided with a crustaceous habit, more than it does that of naked worms or caterpillars; it is moderately hard, and like the rough skin called shagreen, being thick set with a number of grains, evenly distributed. The substance of the skin is firm and hard, and yet very flexible. On each side of the body are nine spiracula or holes, for the purpose of respiration; there are no such holes visible on the tail ring a, nor on the third ring counting from the head; for at the extremity of the tail there is an opening for the admission and expulsion of air; in the third ring the spiracula are very small, and appear only under the skin, near the place where the embryo wings of the future fly are concealed. It is remarkable that caterpillars, in general, have two rings without these spiracula; perhaps, because they change into flies with four wings, whereas this worm produces a fly that has only two. The skin has three different shades of colour; it is adorned with oblong black furrows, with spots of a light colour, and orbicular rings, from which there generally springs a hair, as in the figure before us, only the hair that grows on the insects side is represented; besides this, there are here and there some other larger hairs, c c. The difference of colour in this worm arises from the quantity of grains in the same space; for in proportion as there is a greater or lesser quantity of these, the furrows and rings are of a deeper or paler colour. The head d is divided into three parts, and covered with a skin, the grains on which are hardly discernible. The eyes are rather protuberant, and lie forwards near the snout. It has also two small horns i i, on the fore part of the head. The snout is crooked, and ends in a sharp point as at f; but what is altogether singular and surprizing, though no doubt wisely contrived by the great and almighty Architect, is, that this insects legs are placed near the snout, between the sinuses, in which the eyes are fixed. Each of these legs consists of three joints, the outermost of which is covered with hard and stiff hairs like bristles. From the next joint there springs a horny bone h h, which the insect uses as a kind of thumb; the joint is also of a black substance, between bone and horn in hardness; the third joint is of the same nature. To distinguish these particulars, the parts that form the upper sides of the mouth and the eyes must be separated by means of a small fine knife; you may then, by the assistance of the microscope, perceive that the leg is articulated, by means of some particular ligaments, with that portion of the insects mouth which answers to the lower jaw in the human frame. We may then also discern the muscles which serve to move the legs, and draw them up into a cavity that lies between the snout and those parts of the mouth which are near the horns i i. This insect not only walks with these legs at the bottom of the water, but even moves itself on land by means of them; it likewise makes use of them to swim, while it keeps its tail on the surface contiguous to the air, and hangs downward with the rest of the body in the water: in this situation no motion is perceived in it, but what arises from its legs, which it moves in a most elegant manner. It is reasonable to conclude from what has been said, that the principal part of the creatures strength lies in these legs; nor will it be difficult for those who are acquainted with the nature of the ancient hieroglyphics, which are now opening so clearly, to fix the rank of this insect in animated life, and point out those orders of being, and the moral state through which it receives its form and habits of life. The snout is black and hard, the back part is quite solid, and somewhat of a globular form, whereas the front f, is sharp and hollow; on the back part three membranaceous divisions may be observed, by means of which, and the muscles contained in the snout, the insect can at pleasure expand or contract it. The tail is constructed and planned with great skill and wisdom. The extreme verge or border, is surrounded by thirty hairs, and the sides adorned with others that are smaller; here and there the large hairs branch out into smaller ones, which may be reckoned as single hairs. These hairs are all rooted in the outer skin, which in this place is covered with rough grains, as may be seen by cutting it off, and holding it up, when dry, against the light, upon a thin plate of glass. By the same mode you will find, that at the extremities of the hairs there are also grains like those of the skin; in the middle of the tail there is a small opening, within it are minute holes, by which the insect inhales and expels the air it breathes. The hairs are very seldom disposed in so regular a manner as they are represented in Fig. 3. Plate XI. except when the insect floats with the body in the water, and the tail with its hairs a little lower than the surface, for they are then displayed exactly as delineated in the plate. The least motion downward of the tail produces a concavity in the water, and it then assumes the figure of a wineglass, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom. The tail serves the larva both for the purposes of swimming and breathing, and it receives through the tail that which is the universal principle of life and motion in animals. By means of the hairs it can stop itself at pleasure when swimming, or remain suspended quietly in the water for any length of time. The motion of the insect in swimming is very beautiful, especially when it advances with its whole body floating on the surface of the water; after filling itself with air by the tail. To set out, it first bends the body to the right or left, and then contracts it in the form of the letter S, and again stretches it out in a strait line: by thus alternately contracting and then extending the body, it moves along on the surface of the water. It is of a very quiet disposition, and not to be disturbed by handling. These larv are generally to be found in shallow standing waters, about the beginning of June, sooner or later, as the summer is more or less favourable; in some seasons they are to be found in great numbers, while in others, it is no easy matter to meet with them. They love to crawl on the plants and grass which grow in the water, and are often to be met with in ditches, floating on the surface of the water by means of their tail, the head and thorax at the same time hanging down; and in this situation they will turn over the clay and dirt with their snout and feet in search of food, which is generally a viscous matter that is common in small ponds and about the sides of ditches. This worm is very harmless, contrary to the opinion one might form at first sight, from the surprizing vibratory motion of the legs, which resembles the brandishing of an envenomed tongue or sting. They are most easily killed for dissection in spirit of turpentine. After a certain period they pass into the pupa form; when they are about to change, they betake themselves to the herbs that float on the surface of the water, and creep gently thereon, till at length they lie partly on the dry surface, and partly on the water; when in the larva or pupa state, they can live in water, but can by no means inhabit there when changed into flies: indeed, man also, whilst in the uterus, lives in water, which he cannot do afterwards. When these worms have found a proper situation, they by degrees contract themselves, and in a manner scarce perceptible lose all power of motion. The inward parts of the worms tail now separate from the outmost skin, and become greatly contracted; this probably gives the insect considerable pain: by this contraction, an empty space is left in the exterior skin, into which the air soon penetrates. Thus this insect passes into the pupa state under its own skin, entirely different from that of the caterpillar, which casts off the exterior skin at this time; this change may often be observed to take place in the space of ten or twelve hours, but in what manner it is performed we are ignorant, as it is effected in a hidden unknown way, inwardly within the skin, which conceals it from our view. Whilst the larva is changing under the skin, the body, head, and tail, separate insensibly from their outward vesture. The legs at this time, and their cartilaginous bones, are, on account of the parts which are withdrawn from them, left empty; the worm loses also now the former skull, the beak, together with the horny bones belonging thereto, which remain in the skin of the exuvia. It is worthy of notice, that the optic nerves separate also from the eyes, and no more perform their office. The muscles of the rings in like manner, and a great part of the pulmonary points of respiration, are separated from the external skin. Thus the whole body contracts itself by degrees into a small compact mass. At this time the gullet and the pulmonary tubes cast a coat within the skin. To make this evident, it is necessary to open the abdomen, when the pupa, its parts, together with the cast off pulmonary pipes, may be clearly seen. An exact account of all the changes of the interior parts is to be found in Swammerdams Book of Nature. These changes are best examined by taking the pupa out of the skin, or outside case, when it begins to harden; for as it has not then quite attained the pupa form, and the members are somewhat different from what they will be when in that state, it is more easy to observe their respective situation, than when the pupa is some days older, and has lost the greatest part of the superfluous humours. The pupa is inclosed in a double garment; the interior one is a thin membrane, which invests it very closely; the other, or exterior one, is formed of the outermost hard skin of the larva, within which it performs its changes in an invisible manner: it is this skin which gives it the appearance of the larva while in the pupa state. When the time approaches that the hidden insect, now in the pupa form within its old covering, is to attain the imago, fly, or perfect state, which generally happens in about eleven days after the preceding change, the superfluous humours are evaporated by insensible perspiration. The little pupa is contracted into the fifth ring of the skin, and the four last rings of the abdomen are filled with air, through the aperture in the respiratory orifice of the tail. This may be seen by exposing the pupa for a short space to the rays of the sun, and then putting its tail in water, when you will find it breathe stronger than it did before, and, by expressing an air bubble out of its tail, and then sucking it in again, will manifestly perform the action of inspiration and expiration. The anterior part of the pupa is drawn back from the skin, and having partly deserted it, with the beak, head, and first ring of the breast, the little creature lies still, until its exhaling members have acquired strength to burst the two membranes which surround it. If the exterior case be opened near this period, a wonderful variety of colour may be perceived through the thin skin which invests the pupa. The colours of many of the different parts are now changed; some parts from aqueous become membranaceous, some fleshy, and others crustaceous. The whole body becomes insensibly shaggy, the feet and claws begin to move: the variations may be accurately observed by opening a pupa every day until the time of change. For this purpose they should be laid on white paper in an earthen dish; they should also be made somewhat moist, and be kept under a glass: the paper serves the pupa to fix its claw to, when they come forth in the form of a fly. A little water should be poured into the dish, to keep the pupa from drying and suffocation. When the fly begins to appear, the exterior skin is seen to move about the third and fourth anterior ring; the insect then uses all its efforts to promote its escape, and to quit the interior and exterior skin at one and the same time. The exterior skin is divided into four parts; the insect immediately afterwards breaks open its inner coat, and casting it off, escapes from the prison in which it was entombed, in the form of a beautiful fly. It is to be observed here, that there is nothing accidental in the breaking of the outermost skin, being perfectly conformable to the rule ordained, always happening in the same manner in all these changes: the skin also is, in those places where it is broke open, so constructed by the Author of nature, as if joined together by sutures. Having now acquired its perfect state, the little creature which lived before in water and mud, enters into a new scene of life, visits the fields and meadows, is transported through the air on its elegant wings, and sports in the wide expanse with unrestrained jollity and freedom. The larva a queue de rat,76 musca pendula, Lin. is also transformed under the skin, which hardens, and forms a case or general covering to the pupa: two horns are pushed out, while it is in this state, from the interior parts; they serve the purpose of respiration: this larva will be more particularly described in a subsequent part of this chapter. 76 Reaum. 8vo. edit. tom. 4, pt. 2, 11 mem. p. 199, plate 30 and 31. According to Reaumur, the insects in this class, that is, those that pass into the pupa state under the skin of the larva, go through a change more than the caterpillar, a transformation taking place while under their skin, before they assume the pupa form. The aquatic larva of the musca chamleon retains its form to the last; but there are many insects that are transformed under their skin, which forms a cone or case for the pupa. In these the larva loses first its length; the body becoming shorter, assumes the figure of an egg; and the skin forms a hard and crustaceous case or solid lodging for the embryo insect. OF THE LIBELLULA OR DRAGON FLY. In the libellula we have an instance of those insects which are termed in the pupa state, semicompleta, that is, such as proceed from the egg in the figure which they preserve till the time arrives for assuming their wings; and who walk, act, and eat as well before that period as afterwards. Of all the flies which adorn or diversify the face of nature, there are few, if any, more beautiful than the libellul: they are almost of all colours, green, blue, crimson, scarlet, and white; some unite a variety of the most vivid teints, and exhibit in one animal more different shades than are to be found in the rainbow. It is not to colour alone that their beauty is confined, it is heightened by the brilliancy of their eyes, and the delicate texture and wide expansion of their wings. The larva of the libellula is an inhabitant of the water, the fly itself is generally found hovering on the borders thereof. These insects are produced from an egg, which is deposited in the water by the parent; the egg sinks to the bottom, and remains there till the young insect finds strength to break the shell. The larva is hexapode, and is not quite so long as the fly; on the trunk are four prominences or little bunches, which become more apparent, in proportion as the larva increases in size and changes its skin. These bunches contain the rudiments of the wings, which adorn the insect when in its perfect state. The head of the larva is exceedingly singular, the whole fore part of it being covered with a mask, which fits it more exactly than the common mask does the human face, having proper cavities within to suit the different prominences of the face; it is of a triangular form, growing smaller towards the bottom; at this part there is a knuckle which fits a cavity near the neck, on this it turns as on a pivot. The upper part of this mask is divided into two pieces or shutters, which the insect can open or close at pleasure; it can also let down the whole mask whenever it pleases. The edges of the shutters are jagged like a saw. It makes use of the mask to seize and hold its prey. There is a considerable difference in the shape of these masks in different species of the libellula, some having two claws near the top of it, which they can thrust out or draw in, as most convenient; these render it a very formidable instrument to the insects on which they feed. These animals generally live and feed at the bottom of the water, swimming only occasionally: their manner of swimming, or rather moving in the water, is curious, being by sudden jerks given at intervals; but this motion is not occasioned by their legs, which at this time are kept immoveable and close to the body; it is by forcing out a stream of water from the tail that the body is carried forward; this may be easily perceived, by placing them in a flat vessel, in which there is only just water enough to cover the bottom. Here the action of the water squirted from their tail will be very visible; it will occasion a small current, and give a sensible motion to any light bodies that are lying on the surface thereof. This action can only be effected at intervals, because after each expulsion the insect is obliged to inhale a fresh supply of water. The larva will sometimes turn its tail above the surface of the water, and eject a small stream from it as from a little fountain, and that with considerable force. The pupa differs but very little from the larva, the bunches containing the wings grow large, and begin to appear like four short thick wings. It is full as lively as the larva, seeking and enjoying its food in the same manner: when it is arrived at its full growth, and is nearly ready to go through its last change, it approaches the edge of the water, or comes entirely out of it, fixing itself firmly to some piece of wood or other substance, by its acute claws. It remains for some time immoveable; the skin then opens down the back, and on the head; through this opening is exhibited the real head and eyes, and at length the legs; it then creeps gradually forward, drawing its wings, and then the body out of the skin. The wings, which are moist and folded, now expand themselves to their real size; the body is also extended till it has gained its proper dimensions, which extension is accomplished by the propelling force of the circulating fluids. When the wings and limbs are dry, it enters on a more noble state of life: in this new scene it enjoys itself to the fullest extent, feasts on the living fragrance issuing from innumerable openings, sports and revels in delight, and, having laid the foundation for its future progeny, sinks into an easy dissolution. The dragon fly is of a ferocious and warlike disposition, hovering in the air like a bird of prey, in order to feed on and destroy every species of fly; its appetite is gross and voracious, not confining itself to small flies only, but the large fleshfly, moths, and butterflies, are equally subjected to its tyranny. It frequents marshy grounds, where insects mostly abound. The female of the CYNIPS or GALL INSECT, which has no wings, passes through no transformation; while the male, which has four wings, passes through the pupa state before it becomes a fly. The only change, though a considerable one, which takes place in the female gall insect, is this, that after a certain time it fixes itself to the branch of a tree, without being able to detach itself; it afterwards increases much in size, and becomes like a true gall; the female, by remaining thus fixed for the greater part of her life, to the place where she was first seen, has very little the appearance of an animal; it is in this period of their life that they grow most and produce their young, while they appear a portion of the branch they adhere to; and what is more singular, the larger they grow, the less they appear like animals, and whilst they are employed in laying thousands of eggs, seem to be nothing but mere galls. The genera of gall insects are very extensive; they are to be found on almost every shrub and tree. The APHIDES or PLANT LICE, to arrive at their respective state, pass through that of the semicomplete pupa, and their wings do not appear till they have quitted their pupa state; but as in all the families of the pucerons there are many which never become winged, we must not forget to observe, that these undergo no transformation, remaining always the same, without changing their figure, though they increase in size and change their skin. It is remarkable, that amongst insects of the same kind, some individuals should be transformed, while others are not at all changed. These insects will be considered more fully in another part of this chapter. Reaumur77 has shewn that the SPIDER FLY, hyppobosca equina, Lin. lays so large an egg, that the fly which proceeds from it is as big as the mother, though the egg does not increase the least in size from the time it is first laid. The insect proceeds also from the egg in the imago or fly state; it is probably transformed in the egg, for Reaumur has found it in the pupa state therein, and having boiled some of their eggs which had been laid for some days, he found the insect in the form of an oval ball, similar to that in which the pupa of flies with two wings are generally found. De Geer is of opinion that the egg itself is a true larva, which, when it is born, has only to disengage its limbs, c. from the shell which covers it; and he thinks this the more probable, because there is no embryo seen in this egg, but it is entirely filled with the insect; he has also perceived a contracting and dilating motion in the egg, while it was in the belly of the mother, and immediately after it was laid; circumstances which do not agree with a simple egg. 77 Reaumur, tom. 6, mem. 14. As M. Bonnet78 has attempted to give a theory of these various changes, the following extract from it will, I hope, prove agreeable to the reader; it will at least tend to render his ideas of this wonderful subject clearer, and will probably open to his mind many new sources of contemplation. 78 Bonnet Considerations sur les Corps organises. Contemplation of Nature, c. An insect that must cast off its exuvia, or moult five times before it attains the pupa state, may be considered as composed of five organized bodies, inclosed within each other, and nourished by common viscera, placed in the center: what the bud of the tree is to the invisible buds it contains, such is the exterior part of the caterpillar to the interior bodies it conceals in its bosom. Four of these bodies have the same essential structure, namely, that which is peculiar to the insect in its larva or caterpillar state: the fifth body is that of the pupa. The respective state of these bodies is in proportion to their distance from the center of the animal; those that are farthest off have most consistence, or unfold themselves soonest. When the exterior body has attained its full growth, that interior one which is next in order is considerably unfolded; it is then lodged in too narrow a compass, therefore it stretches on all sides the sheath which covers it; the vessels which nourish the external covering, are broken by this violent distension, and ceasing to act, the skin wrinkles and dries up; at length it opens, and the insect is cloathed with a new skin, and new organs. The insect generally fasts for a day or two preceding each change; this is probably occasioned by the violent state in which it then is, or it may be necessary to prevent obstructions, c. let this be as it may, the insect is always very weak after it has changed its skin, the parts being as yet affected by the exertions they have gone through. The scaly parts, as the head and legs, are almost entirely membranaceous, and imbrued with a fluid that insinuates itself between the two skins, and thus facilitates their separation; this moisture evaporates by degrees, all the parts acquire a consistence, and the insect is then in a condition to act. The first use that some caterpillars which live on leaves make of their new form, is to devour greedily their exuvia: sometimes they do not wait till their jaws have acquired their full strength; some have been seen to gnaw the shell from which they proceeded, and even the eggs of such caterpillars as have not been hatched. When we have once formed the idea that all the exterior parts are inlaid, or included one within the other, the production of new organs does not appear so embarrassing, being nothing more than a simple developement; but it is more difficult to form any conception of the changes that happen in the viscera before and after the transformation, the various modifications they undergo eluding our researches. We have already observed, that a little before the change the caterpillar rejects the membrane that lines the intestinal bag: this bowel has hitherto digested only gross food, whereas it must hereafter digest that which is very delicate: a fluid that circulates in the caterpillar from the hind part towards the head, circulates a contrary way after transformation. Now if this inversion is as real as observation seems to indicate, how amazing the change the interior parts of the animal must have undergone? When the caterpillar moults, small clusters of the tracheal vessels are cast off with the exuvia, and new ones are substituted in their room; but how is this effected, and how are the lungs replaced by other lungs? The more we endeavour to investigate this subject, the more we find it is enveloped in darkness. Whilst the powers of life are employed conformable to the laws of Divine Providence, to change the viscera, and give them a new form, they are also unfolding divers other organs, which were useless to the insect while in the larva state, but which are necessary to that which succeeds. That these interior operations of life may be carried on with greater energy, the animal is thrown into a kind of sleep; during this period, the corpus crassum is distributed into all the parts, in order to bring them to perfection, while the evaporation of the superfluous humours makes way for the elements of the fibres to approach each other, and unite more closely. The little wounds in the inside, which have been occasioned by the rupture of the vessels, are gradually consolidated; those parts which had been violently exercised, recover their tone, and the circulating fluids insensibly find their new channel. Lastly, many vessels are effaced, and turned into a liquid sediment, which is rejected by the perfect insect. When these various changes are considered, we are surprized at the singularity of the means the AUTHOR OF NATURE has made choice of, in order to bring the different species of animals to perfection; and are apt to ask, why the caterpillar was not born a moth? why it passes through the larva and pupa state? why all insects that are transformed do not undergo the same change? These, and a variety of questions that may be started concerning the constituent substances of those existences which appear before us, derive their solution from the general system which is unknown to us. If all were to arrive at perfection at once, the chain would be broken, the creature unhappy, and man most of all. Let us also consider what riches we should have been deprived of, if the silkworm had been born in its perfect state. Amongst insects, some are produced in the state in which they will remain during their whole lives; others come forth inclosed in an egg, and are hatched from this into a form that admits of no variation; many come into the world under a form which differs but little from that which they have when arrived at an age of maturity; some again assume various forms, more or less remote from that which constitutes their perfect state; lastly, some go through part of these transformations in the body of the parent, and are born of an equal size with them. By these various changes, a single individual unites within itself two or three different species, and becomes successively the inhabitant of two or three worlds: and how great is the diversity of its operation in these various abodes! Since it has been shewn that the larva or caterpillar is really the moth, crawling, eating, and spinning, under the form of the worm, and that the pupa is only the moth swathed up, it is clear that they are not three beings, but that the same individual feels, tastes, sees, and acts by different organs, at different periods of its life, having sensations and wants at one time, which it has not at another; these always bearing a relation to the organs which excite them. OF THE RESPIRATION OF INSECTS. As respiration is one of the most important actions in the life of every animal, great pains have been taken by many naturalists to investigate the nature of this action in insects; to prove its existence, and explain in what manner it is carried on. Malpighi, Swammerdam, Reaumur, and Lyonet have discovered in the caterpillar two airvessels placed the whole length of the insect, these they have called the trache; they have also shewn that an infinite number of ramifications proceed from these, and are dispersed through the whole body; that the tracheal vessels communicate with particular openings on the skin of the caterpillar, termed spiracula; there are nine of these on each side of the body. These vessels seem calculated for the reception of air; they contain no fluids, are of a cartilaginous nature, and when cut preserve their figure, and exhibit a wellterminated opening. Notwithstanding this discovery, respiration has not been proved to exist in many species of insects, and the mechanism thereof is very obscure in all; nor is the absence of it more surprising in the caterpillar or embryo state of insects, than in that of other animals, where we find that respiration is by no means necessary to existence previous to their birth, though indispensably so afterwards. Reaumur thought that the air entered by the spiracula into the trachea, but was not expelled by the same orifice, and consequently that the respiration of insects was carried on in a manner totally different from that of other animals; that the air was expired through a number of small holes or pores which are to be found in the skin of the caterpillar, after having been conducted to them through the extremities of the finer ramifications of the tracheal vessels; whereas Bonnet, in consequence of a great variety of experiments, supposed that the inspiration and expiration of the air was through the spiracula, and that there was no expiration of air through the pores of the skin. These experiments were made either by plunging the caterpillars into water, or anointing them with fat and greasy substances, some all over, others only partially. The number of small bubbles which are observed to cover the surface of their bodies, when they are immerged in water, does not arise from the air which is included within, and then proceeding from them, but they are formed by the air which is lodged near the surface of their bodies, in the same manner that it is about all other substances. To render the experiments more accurate, and prevent the air from adhering to the skin, before he plunged the caterpillars in water he always brushed them over with an hair pencil; after this, very few air bubbles were found on their bodies when immerged in water. Caterpillars will remain a considerable time under water, without destroying the principle of life; and they also recover, in general, soon after they are taken out. To know whether a few only of the spiracula might not be sufficient for the purposes of respiration, he plunged some partially in water, so that only two or more spiracula remained in the open air: in these cases the caterpillar did not become torpid as it did when they were all immerged in water. One caterpillar, upon which Bonnet made his experiments, lived eight days suspended in water, with only two of its anterior spiracula in the air; during this time he observed, that when the insect moved itself, little streams of bubbles issued from the anterior spiracula on the left side; from this, and many other experiments, it appeared to him, that amongst all the eighteen spiracula, the two anterior and the two posterior are of the greatest use in respiration.79 Sometimes when the apertures of these have been stopped with oil, the caterpillar has fallen into convulsions. If the posterior part had been oiled, that part became paralytic. Notwithstanding these experiments, and many more which have been made, the subject is far from being decided, and many still doubt whether there is any respiration in insects similar to ours, at least at certain periods of their life. This opinion seems to be further confirmed by the experiments of M. Lyonet. He confined several large musk beetles under a glass for more than half an hour, exposed to the fumes of burning sulphur; and, though during their continuance there the vapour was so thick that he could not see them, yet on their being liberated, they did not seem at all effected thereby.80 79 Philos. Trans. vol. xlv. p. 300. 80 Lesser Theologie des Insectes, tom. 1, p. 124. Ibid. p. 126. Supposing respiration to be absolutely necessary to the existence of the pup of different insects, when we reflect on the great solidity of their cases or cones, it is not easy to conceive how they can live several months under the earth, in spaces so confined, and almost impervious to the air: and indeed if they did respire, the same situation seems to preclude a continuance of the operation, as the air would soon be corrupted, and unfit for the offices of life. As the trache are divided and subdivided to a prodigious degree of minuteness, it has been conjectured by some writers, that they may act as so many sieves, which, by separations properly contrived, filtrate the air, and so furnish it to the body of different degrees of purity and subtilty, agreeable to the purposes and nature of the various parts. The experiments that have been made with the airpump are by no means conclusive; the injury which the insect sustains when the atmospheric pressure is taken from the body, does not prove that it inspired and expired the air that we have removed; it only shews that an incumbent pressure is necessary to their comfortable existence, as it prevents the fluids from disengaging themselves in an aerial form, and as it counterbalances and reacts on the principle of life, and, by keeping the action thereof in proper tone and order, confines and regulates its energies. Though it is difficult to ascertain whether some insects respire, at least at certain periods of their existence, yet there are others to whom the inspiration and expiration of air seems absolutely necessary: there are many aquatic insects which are obliged to keep their tails suspended on the surface of the water for this purpose. To prove this, keep the tail under water, and you will perceive the insect to be agitated and uneasy, and to seek for some opening to expose this part to the air; if it find none, it soon goes to the bottom and dies. Some aquatic beetles resist the trial for a considerable time, while their larv can only support it for a few minutes. There is a circumstance which renders all experiments on this subject with insects doubtful and difficult, namely, the vast tenaciousness of the life principle in the lower orders of animated nature, and its dissemination through their whole frame. Musschenbroeck inclosed the pupa of a moth in a glass tube, very little larger than the moth itself, and of the following figure. Illustration The end A of the tube was drawn out in a capillary form, the other end was covered with a piece of wet bladder to exclude the air; the capillary end B was then plunged in water, which rose to D. He placed the capillary part of the tube before a microscope, on a small micrometer, in order to observe any motion or change in the situation of the water; as it is evident the expiration or inspiration of air by the insect would make it rise or fall alternately. In the first experiment he observed a small degree of motion at distant intervals, not above two or three times in an hour; in a second experiment on another subject, he could observe no motion at all. He then placed some pup under the receiver of an airpump, in water which he had previously purged of its air; on exhausting the air from the receiver, he observed one bubble to arise in a part near the tail, and a few near the wings. The pup did not swell under the operation; on the contrary, on letting in the air, it was found to be diminished in a small degree, but in less than a quarter of an hour it recovered its former figure. M. Martinet published at Leyden, in 1753, a dissertation, in which, it is said, he has clearly proved by a number of experiments that the pup of caterpillars and some other insects do not respire. OF RESPIRATION IN THE LARVA OF THE MUSCA PENDULA. Among the insects in which respiration seems to be most clearly proved, are the larv of the musca pendula, Lin. These, while in the worm state, live under water in the mud, to which they affix themselves; the respiration of fresh air in this situation is necessary to their existence; for this purpose they are furnished with a tail, which often appears of an excessive length comparatively with the body, as this is seldom more than three quarters of an inch in length, while the tail is frequently more than four inches; it is composed of two tubes, which run one into the other, something similar to the tubes of a refracting telescope. Besides this, the materials of which the tubes are composed are capable of a great degree of extension. When the tail is at its full length, it is exceeding small, not being larger near the extremity than a horsehair; there is a little knob at the end, which is furnished with small hairs, to extend on the water, in some measure resembling those at the tail of the musca chamleon. In the body of the larva are two large tracheal vessels; these airvessels extend from the head to the tail, terminate in the respiring tubes, and receive the air from them. The larva quits the water when the time of its transformation approaches, and enters into the earth, where the skin hardens and forms a case in which the pupa is formed; soon after the change, four tubes or horns are seen projecting from the case: these Reaumur supposes to be organs for communicating air to the interior parts of the insect; they are connected with little bladders which are found filled with air, and by which it is conveyed to the spiracula of the pupa. The larv of gnats, and other small aquatic insects of the same kind, are furnished with small tubes, that play on the surface of the water, and convey the air from thence to the insect. Many other singularities are to be found amongst the aquatic larv. OF THE GENERATION OF INSECTS. One of the greatest mysteries in nature is generation, or that power by which the various species of animals, c. are propagated, enabling one single individual to give birth to thousands, or even millions of individuals like itself; all formed agreeable to proportions which are only known to that ADORABLE WISDOM which has established them. We shall never be able to form any adequate conception of this power, till we are acquainted with the principles of life, and can trace their various gradations in different orders of beings. Many ancient philosophers, from a misconception and perversion of the sentiments of the more ancient sages, imagined that insects were produced from corrupt and putrefied substances; that organized bodies, animated with life, and framed in a most wonderful manner, owed their origin to mere chance! Not so the most ancient sages; they taught that every degree of life must proceed from the fountain and source of all life, and that therefore, when manifested, it must be replete with infinite wonders; but then they also shewed, that if in its descent through the higher orders of being it was perverted, it would be manifested in loathsome forms, and with filthy propensities; and that according to the degree of reception of the Divine Goodness and Truth, or the perversion thereof, new forms of life would be occasionally manifested. The gloom of night still wraps this subject in obscurity; will the dawn of day ere long gild the horizon of the scientific world? or is the time of its breaking forth yet far from us? Be this as it may, insects will be found to conform to that general law of order which runs through the whole of animated nature, namely, that the conjunction of the male and female is necessary for the production of their offspring. Where we cannot ascertain causes, we must be content with facts. Though insects are, like larger animals, distinguished into male and female, yet in some classes there is a kind of mules, partaking of neither sex, though themselves originating from the conjunction of both: many other particularities relative to the sexes can only be touched upon here. In many insects the male and female are with difficulty distinguished, and in some they differ so widely, that an unskilful person might easily take the male and female of the same insect for different species; as for instance, in the phalna humuli, piniaria, russula. The dissimilarity is still greater in those insects in which the male has wings and the female none, as in the coccus lampyris, phalna antiqua, c. In general the male is smaller than the female. The antenn of the male are, for the most part, larger than those of the female. In some moths, and other insects which are furnished with feathered antenn, the feathers of the male fly are large and beautiful, while those of the female are small, and hardly perceptible. Some male beetles are furnished with a horn, which is wanting in the female. Pleraque insectorum genitalia sua intra anum habent abscondita, et penes solitarios, sed nonnulla penem habent bifidum: cancri autem et aranei geminos, quemadmodum nonnulla amphibia, et quod mirandum in loco alieno, ut cancer, sub basi caud. Araneus mas palpos habet clavatos, qui penes sunt, juxta os utrinque unicum, qu clav sexum nec speciem distinguunt; et fmina vulvas suas habet in abdomine juxta pectus; heic vero si unquam vere dixeris: res plena timoris amor, si enim procus inauspicato accesserit, fmina ipsum devorat, quod etiam fit, si non statim se retraxerit. Libellula fmina genitale suum sub apice gerit caud, et mas sub pectore, adeo ut cum mas collum fmina forcipe caud arripit, illa caudam suam pectori ejus adplicet, sicque peculiari ratione connex volitent. Insects are either oviparous or viviparous; or, in other words, the species is perpetuated either by their laying of eggs, or bringing forth their young alive. The former is the more general case; there are but few instances of the latter. Those insects which pass through the different transformations already described, cannot propagate till they arrive at their imago or perfect state; and we believe there is seldom any conjunction of the sexes in other classes till they have moulted, or put off their last skin, the cancri and monoculi excepted. To form a just idea of the ovaries of insects, I could wish the reader to consult the description that Swammerdam has given of that of the queen bee, and to take a view of the elegant figure that accompanies it, a figure that speaks to the eyes, and by them to the imagination. Malpighi has given a description of the ovaries of the silkworm moth. Reaumur mentions six or seven species of twowinged flies that are viviparous, bringing forth worms, which are afterwards transformed into flies. The womb of one of these is singularly curious; it is formed of a band rolled up in a spiral form, and about two inches and an half in length; so that it is seven or eight times longer than the body of the fly, and composed of worms placed one on the side of the other with wonderful art: they are many thousands in number.81 81 Reaumur Mem. des Insectes, tom. 4, p. 415. OF THE APHIDES OR PUCERONS. These are a species of insects that have opened new views of the conomy of animated beings; they belong to the hemiptera class. The rostrum is inflected, the antenn are longer than the thorax; some have four erect wings, others are entirety without them. Towards the end of the abdomen there are two tubes ejecting that most delicate juice called honeydew. Various names have been applied to them, the proper one is aphis, that by which they are most generally known, is puceron; they are also frequently called vinefretters or plantlice: many among the genera are both oviparous and viviparous, bringing forth their young alive in summer, but in autumn depositing their eggs upon the branches and bark of trees. The different aphides are very curious objects for the microscope: they are a very numerous genus, Linnus has enumerated thirtythree different species, whose trivial names are taken from the plant which they inhabit, though it is probable the number is much larger, as the same plant is often found to support two or three different sorts of them. Their habits are very singular: an aphis or puceron, brought up in the most perfect solitude from the very moment of its birth, in a few days will be found in the midst of a numerous family; repeat the experiment on one of the individuals of this family, and you will find this second generation will multiply like its parent; and this you may pursue through many generations. M. Bonnet had repeated experiments of this kind, as far as the sixth generation, which all uniformly presented the observer with fruitful virgins, when he was engaged in a series of new and tedious experiments, from a suspicion imparted by M. Trembley in a letter to him, who thus expresses himself: I have formed the design of rearing several generations of solitary pucerons, in order to see if they would all equally bring forth young. In cases so remote from usual circumstances, it is allowed to try all sorts of means; and I argued with myself, Who knows but that one copulation might serve for several generations? This WHO KNOWS persuaded M. Bonnet that he had not sufficiently pursued his investigations. He therefore now reared to the tenth generation his solitary aphides, having the patience to keep an exact account of the days and hours of the birth of each generation. The result of this pursuit was, his discovering both males and females among them, whose amours were not in the least equivocal; the males are produced only in the tenth generation, and are but few in number; these soon arriving at their full growth, copulate with the females, and the virtue of this copulation serves for ten successive generations; all these generations, except the first from fecundated eggs, are produced viviparous, and all the individuals are females, except those of the last generation, among whom some males appear, to lay the foundation of a fresh series. In order to give a further insight into the nature of these insects, I shall insert an extract of a description of their different generations, by Dr. Richardson, as published in the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1771. The great variety of species which occur in the insects now under consideration, may make an inquiry into their particular natures seem not a little perplexing, but by reducing them under their proper genera, the difficulty is considerably diminished. We may reasonably suppose all the insects, comprehended under any distinct genus, to partake of one general nature; and, by diligently examining any particular species, may thence gain some insight into the nature of all the rest. With this view Dr. Richardson chose out of the various sorts of aphides the largest of those found on the rosetree, not only as its size makes it the more conspicuous, but as there are few others of so long a duration. This sort appears early in the spring, and continues late in the autumn; while several are limited to a much shorter term, in conformity to the different trees and plants from whence they draw their nourishment. If at the beginning of February the weather happen to be so warm, as to make the buds of the rosetree swell and appear green, small aphides are frequently to be found on them, though not larger than the young ones in summer, when first produced. It will be found, that those aphides which appear only in spring, proceed from small black oval eggs, which were deposited on the last years shoots; though when it happens that the insects make too early an appearance, the greater part suffers from the sharp weather that usually succeeds; by which means the rosetrees are some years in a manner freed from them. The same kind of animal is then at one time of the year viviparous, and at another, oviparous. Those aphides which withstand the severity of the weather seldom come to their full growth before the month of April, at which time they usually begin to breed, after twice casting off their exuvia, or outward covering. It appears that they are all females, which produce each of them a numerous progeny, and that without having intercourse with any male insect; they are viviparous, and what is equally singular, the young ones all come into the world backwards. When they first come from the parent, they are enveloped by a thin membrane, having in this situation the appearance of an oval egg; these egglike appearances adhere by one extremity to the mother, while the young ones contained in them extend the other, by that means gradually drawing the ruptured membrane over the head and body to the hind feet. During this operation, and for some time after, the fore part of the head adheres, by means of something glutinous, to the vent of the parent. Being thus suspended in the air, it soon frees itself from the membrane in which it was confined; and after its limbs are a little strengthened, is set down on some tender shoots, and left to provide for itself. In the spring months there appear on the rosetrees but two generations of aphides, including those which proceed immediately from the last years eggs; the warmth of the summer adds so much to their fertility, that no less than five generations succeed one another in the interval. One is produced in May, which casts off its covering; while the months of June and July each supply two more, which cast off their coverings three or four times, according to the different warmth of the season. This frequent change of their outward coat is the more extraordinary, because it is repeated more often when the insects come the soonest to their growth, which sometimes happens in ten days, where warmth and plenty of nourishment conspired. Early in the month of June, some of the third generation, which were produced about the middle of May, after casting off their last covering, discover four erect wings, much longer than their bodies; and the same is observable in all the succeeding generations which are produced during the summer months, but still without any diversity of sex; for some time before the aphides come to their full growth, it is easy to distinguish which will have wings, by a remarkable fullness of the breast, which in the others is hardly to be distinguished from the body. When the last covering is rejected, the wings, which were before folded up in a very narrow compass, are gradually extended in a surprizing manner, till their dimensions are at last very considerable. The increase of these insects in the summer time is so very great, that by wounding and exhausting the tender shoots, they would frequently suppress all vegetation, had they not many enemies to restrain them. Notwithstanding these insects have a numerous tribe of enemies, they are not without friends, if those may be considered as such, who are officious in their attendance for the good things they expect to reap thereby. The ant and the bee are of this kind, collecting the honey in which the aphides abound, but with this difference, that the ants are constant visitors, the bee only when flowers are scarce; the ants will suck in the honey while the aphides are in the act of discharging it, the bees only collect it from the leaves on which it has fallen. In the autumn three more generations of aphides are produced, two of which generally make their appearance in the month of August, and the third before the middle of September. The two first differ in no respect from those which are found in summer; but the third differs greatly from all the rest. Though all the aphides which have hitherto appeared were females, in this tenth generation several male insects are found, but not by any means so numerous as the females. The females have at first the same appearance with those of the former generations, but in a few days their colour changes from a green to a yellow, which is gradually converted into an orange before they come to their full growth; they differ also in another respect from those which occur in summer, for all these yellow females are without wings. The male insects are, however, still more remarkable, their outward appearance readily distinguishing them from this and all other generations. When first produced, they are not of a green colour like the rest, but of a reddish brown, and have afterwards a dark line along the back; they come to their full growth in about three weeks, and then cast off their last covering, the whole insect being after this of a bright yellow colour, the wings only excepted; but after this change to a deeper yellow, and in a very few hours to a dark brown, if we except the body, which is something lighter coloured, and has a reddish cast. The males no sooner come to maturity than they copulate with the females, who in a day or two after their intercourse with the males lay their eggs, generally near the buds. Where there are a number crowded together, they of course interfere with each other, in which case they will frequently deposit their eggs on other parts of the branches. It is highly probable that the aphides derive considerable advantages by living in society; the reiterated punctures of a great number of them may attract a larger quantity of nutritious juices to that part of the tree or plant where they have taken up their abode. The aphides are very injurious to trees and vegetables of almost every kind; the species is so numerous, and all endued with so much fertility, that if they were not destroyed by a numerous host of enemies, the leaves, the branches, and the stem of every plant would be covered with them. On almost every leaf inhabited by aphides, a small worm is to be found, that feeds not upon the leaves, but upon these insects, devouring them with incredible rapacity: Reaumur supplied a single worm with above onehundred aphides, every one of which it devoured in less than three hours. Indeed myriads of insects seem to be produced for no other purpose than to destroy them. OF THE APIS OR BEE. The bee belongs to the hymenoptera order, the mouth is furnished with two jaws, and a proboscis protected by a double sheath, see Fig. 3. Plate XIII. They have four wings; when these are at rest, the two foremost cover those behind. There is a sting in the tail of the working and female bee. Of the bee kind fiftyfive species are enumerated by Linnus. Our present observations are confined to the common or domestic bee. In the natural history of insects new objects of surprize are continually rising before the observer: however singular the preceding account of the production of the aphides may appear, that of bees is not less so. This little republic has at all times gained universal esteem and admiration; and, though they have attracted the attention of the most ingenious and laborious inquirers into nature, yet the mode of propagating their species seems to have baffled the ingenuity of ages, and rendered all attempts to discover it abortive; even the labours and scrupulous attention of Swammerdam were unsuccessful. He spent one month entirely in examining, describing, and representing their intestines; and many months on other parts; employing whole days in making observations, and whole nights in registering them, till at last he brought his treatise of bees to the wished for perfection; a work which, from the commencement of natural history to our own times, has not its equal. Reaumur, however, thought he had in some measure removed the veil, and explained their manner of generating: he supposes the queen bee to be the only female in the hive, and the mother of the next generation; that the drones are the males, by which she is fecundated, and that the working bees, or those that collect wax on the flowers, that knead it, and form from it the combs and cells, which they afterwards fill with honey, are of neither sex. The queen bee is known by its size, being generally much larger than the working bee or the drone. M. Schirach, a German naturalist, affirms that all the common bees are females in disguise, in which the organs that distinguish the sex, and particularly the ovaria, are obliterated, or at least from their extreme minuteness have escaped the observers eye; that every one of these bees, in the earlier period of its existence, is capable of becoming a queen bee, if the whole community should think it proper to nurse it in a particular manner, and raise it to that rank: in short, that the queen bee lays only two kinds of eggs, those that are to produce the drones, and those from which the working bees are to proceed. Schirach made his experiments not only in the early spring months, but even as late as November. He cut off from an old hive a piece of the broodcomb, taking care that it contained worms which had been hatched about three days. He fixed this in an empty hive, together with a piece of honeycomb, for food to his bees, and then introduced a number of common bees into the hive. As soon as these found themselves deprived of their queen and their liberty, a dreadful uproar took place, which lasted for the space of twentyfour hours. On the cessation of this tumult, they betook themselves to work, first proceeding to the construction of a royal cell, and then taking the proper methods for feeding and hatching the brood inclosed with them; sometimes even on the second day the foundation of one or more royal cells were to be perceived; the view of which furnished certain indications that they had elected one of the inclosed worms to the sovereignty. The bees may now be left at liberty. The final result of these experiments is, that the colony of working bees being thus shut up with a morsel of broodcomb, not only hatch, but at the end of eighteen or twenty days produce from thence one or two queens, to all appearance proceeding from worms of the common sort, converted by them into a queen merely because they wanted one.82 From experiments of the same kind, varied and often repeated, Schirach concludes that all the common working bees were originally of the female sex; but that if they are not fed, lodged, and brought up in a particular manner while they are in the larva state, their organs are not developed; and that it is to this circumstance attending the bringing up the queen, that the extension of the female organs is effected, and the difference in her form and size produced. 82 Schirach Histoire Naturelle des Abeilles. Mr. Debraw has carried the subject further, by discovering the impregnation of the eggs by the males, and the difference of the size among the drones or males; though indeed this last circumstance was not unknown to Mess. Maraldi and Reaumur. Mr. Debraw watched the glass hives with indefatigable attention, from the moment the bees, among which he took care there should be a large number of drones, were put into them, to the time of the queens laying her eggs, which generally happens on the fourth or fifth day; he observed, that on the first or second day, always before the third from the time the eggs are placed in the cells, a great number of bees, fastening themselves to one another, hung down in the form of a curtain, from the top to the bottom of the hive; they had done the same at the time the queen deposited her eggs, an operation which seems contrived on purpose to conceal what is transacting; however, through some parts of this veil he was enabled to see some of the bees inserting the posterior part of their bodies each into a cell, and sinking into it, but continuing there only a little while. When they had retired, it was easy to discover a whitish liquor left in the angle of the basis of each cell, which contained an egg. In a day or two this liquor was absorbed into the embryo, which on the fourth day assumes its worm or larva state, to which the working bees bring a little honey for nourishment, during the first eight or ten days after its birth. When the bees find the worm has attained its full growth, they leave off bringing it food, they know it has no more need of it; they have still, however, another service to pay it, in which they never fail; it is that of shutting it up in its cell, where the larva is inclosed for eight or ten days: here a further change takes place; the larva, which was heretofore idle, now begins to work, and lines its cell with fine silk, while the working bee incloses it exteriorly with a wax covering. The concealed larva then voids its excrement, quits its skin, and assumes the pupa; at the end of some days the young bee acquires sufficient strength to quit the slender covering of the pupa, tears the wax covering of its cell, and proceeds a perfect insect. To prove further that the eggs are fecundated by the males, and that their presence is necessary at the time of breeding, Mr. Debraw made the following experiments. They consist in leaving in a hive the queen, with only the common or working bees, without any drones, to see whether the eggs she laid would be prolific. To this end he took a swarm, and shook all the bees into a tub of water, leaving them there till they were quite senseless; by which means he could distinguish the drones without any danger of being stung: he then restored the queen and working bees to their former state, by spreading them on a brown paper in the sun; after this he replaced them in a glass hive, where they soon began to work as usual. The queen laid eggs, which, to his great surprize, were impregnated, for he imagined he had separated all the drones or males, and therefore omitted watching them; at the end of twenty days he found several of his eggs had, in the usual course of changes, produced bees, while some had withered away, and others were covered with honey. Hence he inferred, that some of the males had escaped his notice, and impregnated part of the eggs. To convince himself of this, he took away all the broodcomb that was in the hive, in order to oblige the bees to provide a fresh quantity, being determined to watch narrowly their motions after new eggs should be laid in the cells. On the second day after the eggs were deposited, he perceived the same operation that was mentioned before, namely, that of the bees hanging down in the form of a curtain, while others thrust the posterior part of their bodies into the cells. He then introduced his hand into the hive, broke off a piece of the comb, in which there were two of these insects; he found in neither of them any sting, a circumstance peculiar to the drones; upon dissection, with the assistance of a microscope, he discovered the four cylindrical bodies which contain the glutinous liquor of a whitish colour, as observed by Maraldi in the large drones. He was therefore now under the necessity of repeating his experiments, in destroying the males, and even those that might be suspected to be such. He once more immersed the same bees in water, and when they appeared in a senseless state, he gently pressed every one, in order to distinguish those armed with stings from those which had none, and which of course he supposed to be males: of these last he found fiftyseven, and replaced the swarm in a glass hive, where they immediately applied again to the work of making cells, and on the fourth or fifth day, very early in the morning, he had the pleasure to see the queen bee deposit her eggs in those cells: he continued watching most part of the ensuing days, but could discover nothing of what he had seen before. The eggs, after the fourth day, instead of changing in the manner of caterpillars, were found in the same state they were in the first day, except that some were covered with honey. A singular event happened the next day, about noon; all the bees left their own hive, and were seen attempting to get into a neighbouring one, on the stool of which the queen was found dead, being no doubt slain in the engagement. This event seems to have arisen from the great desire of perpetuating their species, and to which end the concurrence of the males seems so absolutely necessary; it made them desert their habitations, where no males were left, in order to fix a residence in a new one, in which there was a good stock of them. To be further satisfied, Mr. Debraw took the broodcomb, which had not been impregnated, and divided it into two parts; one he placed under a glass bell, No. 1, with honeycomb for the bees food, taking care to leave a queen, but no drones, among the bees confined in it; the other piece of the broodcomb he placed under another glass bell, No. 2, with a few drones, a queen, and a proportionable number of common bees. The result was, that in the glass, No. 1, there was no impregnation, the eggs remaining in the same state they were in when put into the glass; and on giving the bees their liberty on the seventh day, they all flew away as was found to be the case in the former experiment; whereas in the glass, No. 2, the very day after the bees had been put into it, the eggs were impregnated by the drones, and the bees did not leave their hive on receiving their liberty. The editor of the Cyclopdia says, that the small drones are all dead before the end of May, when the larger species appear, and supersede their use; and that it is not without reason that a modern author suggests, that a small number of drones are reserved to supply the necessities of the ensuing year; but that they are very little, if any, larger than the common bee. It does not enter into our plan to notice further in this place the wonders of this little society. A beehive is certainly one of the finest objects that can offer itself to the eyes of the beholder. It is not easy to be weary of contemplating those workshops, where thousands of labourers are constantly engaged in different employments.83 83 The remarks made by the late Mr. Hunter on the experiments of Messrs. Schirach and Debraw, in my opinion, merit the attention of the reader; they are contained in his Observations on Bees, comprizing a variety of information respecting the history and conomy of those curious insects. This ingenious and interesting account is inserted in the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1792, page 128195. I cannot altogether subscribe to his opinion relative to the minuteness and prolixity of Swammerdam. EDIT. OF THE EGGS OF INSECTS. The eggs are contained and arranged in the body of the insect, in vessels which vary in number and figure in different species; the same variety is found in the eggs themselves: some are round, others oval, some cylindrical, and others nearly square; the shells of some are hard and smooth, while others are soft and flexible. It is a general rule, that eggs do not increase in size after they are laid; among insects, we find however an exception to this; the eggs of the tenthredo of Linnus increase after they are laid, but their shell is soft and membranaceous. The eggs of insects differ in their colours; some may be found of almost every shade, of yellow, green, brown, and even black. The eggs of the lion puceron,84 hemerobius, Lin. are very singular objects, and cannot have escaped the eye of any person who is conversant among the insects which live on trees; though of the many who have seen them, few, if any, have found what they really were. It is common to see on the leaves and pedicles of the leaves of the plumbtree, and several other trees, as also on their young branches, a number of long and slender filaments, running out to about an inch in length; ten or twelve of these are usually seen placed near one another, and a vast number of these clusters are found on the same tree; each of these filaments is terminated by a sort of swelling or tubercle of the shape of an egg. They have generally been supposed to be of vegetable origin, and that they were a sort of parasitical plant growing out of others. There is a time when these egglike balls are found open at the ends; in this state they very much resemble flowers, and have been figured as such by some authors, though they are only the shells of the eggs out of which the young animals have escaped after being hatched. If these eggs be examined by a microscope, a worm may be discovered in them; or they may be put into a box, in which, in due time, they will produce an insect, which, when viewed with a microscope, will be found to be the true lion puceron. 84 Reaumur Hist. de Insectes, vol. xi. p. 142. Divine Providence instructs the insects, by a lower species of perception, to deposit their eggs not only in safety from their numerous enemies, but also in situations where a sufficient quantity of food is on the spot to support and nourish the larva immediately on breaking the shell. Some deposit their eggs in the oak leaf, producing there the red gall; others choose the leaf of the poplar, which swells into a red node or bladder; to a similar cause we must attribute the red knob which is often seen on the willow leaf, and the three pointed protuberances upon the termination of the juniper branches. The leaves of the veronica and cerastium are drawn into a globular head by the eggs of an insect lodged therein. The phalna neustria glues its eggs with great symmetry and propriety round the smaller branches of trees. Fig. 1. Plate X. represents a magnified view of the nest of eggs taken off the tree after the caterpillar had eaten its way through them; the strong groundwork of gum, by which they are connected and bound together, is very visible in many places; they strengthen this connection further, by filling up all the intervening space between the eggs with a very tenacious substance. These eggs are crustaceous, and similar to those of the hen; Fig. 2 represents the natural size. Fig. 3 is a magnified vertical section of the eggs, shewing their oval shape; Fig. 4 the natural size. Fig. 5 is an horizontal section through the middle of the egg, and Fig. 6 the same not magnified. It is not easy to describe the beauty of these objects, when viewed in the lucernal microscope; the regularity with which they are placed, the delicacy of their texture, the beautiful and evervarying colours which they present to the eye, give the spectator a high degree of rational delight. In the Lapland Alps there is a fly covered with a downy hair, called the rhendeer gadfly, oestrus tarandi, Linn. it hovers all day over these animals, whose legs tremble under them; they prick up their ears, and flee to the mountains covered with ice and snow to escape from a little hovering fly, but generally in vain, for the insect but too soon finds an opportunity to lodge its egg in the back of the deer; the worm hatched from this egg perforates the skin, and remains under it during the whole winter: in the following year it becomes a fly. The oestrus bovis is an equal terror to oxen; the hippobosca equina, to horses; oestrus ovis,85 to the sheep, c. 85 Oestrus ovis in naso sive sinu frontis animalium rumenantium. Linn. The gnat, the ephemera, the phryganea, the libellula, hover over the water all day to drop their eggs, which are hatched in the water, and continue there all the time they are in the larva form. The mass formed by the gnat resembles a little vessel set afloat by the insect; each egg is in the form of a keel, these are curiously connected together. The gnat lays but one egg at a time, which she deposits on the water in a very ingenious and simple manner; she stretches her legs out, and crosses them, thus forming an angle to receive and hold the first egg; a second egg is soon placed next the first; then a third, and so on, till the base is capable of supporting itself; these, as they come to maturity, sink deeper. The spawn of this insect is sometimes above an inch long, and oneeighth of an inch in diameter, and tied by a little stem or stalk to some stick or stone. Sometimes they are laid in a single, sometimes in a double spiral line; sometimes transversely. Many moths cover their offspring with a thick bed of hair, which they gather from their own body; while others cover them with a glutinous composition, which, when hard, protects them from moisture, rain, and cold. The gallflies, it has been observed, know how to open the nerves of the leaves, to deposit thus their eggs in a place which afterwards serves them for a lodging and a magazine of food. The solitary bees and wasps prepare an habitation for their little ones in the earth, placing there a proper quantity of food for them, when they proceed from the egg. The voracious and cruel spider is attentive and careful of its eggs; the wolf spider carries them on its back in a little bag formed of its silk, it cannot be separated from them but by violence, and exhibits the most marked signs of uneasiness when deprived of them: a circumstance the more remarkable, as they love to destroy each other, and even carry on their courtships with a diffidence and caution unknown in any other species of animals. The history of bees and wasps, and their care and attention to their offspring, is so well known, that I may with propriety pass it over here, and proceed just to notice the industrious ant, whose paternal affection and care is not so well known. They are not satisfied with placing their eggs in situations made on purpose, and to raise or rear them till they come to the nymph or pupa state, but they even extend their care to the pup themselves, removing them from their nest to the surface of the earth, whenever the weather is fine, that they may receive the benignant influence of the sun, carrying them back again as soon as the air begins to grow cold. If any accident disturb their nest, and disperse the pup, they manifest the greatest signs of distress, seeking those which are lost and scattered, placing them in some sheltered place while they repair the nest, when they again transport them to it.86 Many other curious particulars might be related relative to this industrious insect; as their uniting together in scooping out earth, the conveyance of materials for the construction of their nests, and the curious structure of the nest itself, which, though it appears piled up at random, will be found, on stricter examination, to be a work of art and design, with other circumstances which are too long to be enumerated here. 86 Lessers Theologie des Insectes, tom. 1, p. 143. The fecundity of insects exceeds in an astonishing degree that of all the productions of nature; the vegetables which cover the surface of the earth bear no proportion to their multitudes, every plant supporting a number often of scarce perceptible creatures: of the fatal effects of their prodigious multiplication, our fruit trees, c. are too frequently a deplorable testimony. On the continent whole provinces sometimes languish in consequence of the dreadful havoc made by them. Reaumur calculated the fecundity of the queen bee as follows: he found that she laid in the two months of March and April 12,000 eggs, so that the swarm which left the hive in May consisted of near 12,000 bees, all produced from one mother: but this calculation falls short of that which was made by Leeuwenhoek on a fly, whose larva feeds on flesh, putrid carcases, c. which multiply prodigiously, and that in a short space of time. One of these laid 144 eggs, from which he got as many flies in the first month; so that, supposing onehalf of these to be females, in the third month we shall have 746,496, all produced in three months from one fly. The following is an experiment of M. Lyonet on the generation of a moth which comes from the chenille a brosse: out of a brood of 350 eggs, produced by a single moth of this kind, he took 80, from which he obtained, when they were arrived at their perfect state, 15 females; from whence he deduces the following consequence: if 80 eggs give 15 females, the whole brood of 350 would have produced 65; these 65, supposing them as fertile as their mother, would have produced 22,750 caterpillars, among which there would have been at least 4265 females, who would have produced for the third generation 1,492,750 caterpillars. This number would have been much larger, if the number of females among those which were selected by M. Lyonet had been greater. M. de Geer counted in the belly of a moth 480 eggs; reducing these to 400, if supposing onefourth only of these to be females and as fruitful as their mother, they will give birth to 40,000 caterpillars for the second generation; and for the third, supposing all things equal, four millions of caterpillars. It is not surprizing, therefore, that they are found so numerous in years that are favourable to their propagation. But the Creator of all things has for our sakes limited this abundant multiplication, and wisely ordained, that those species which are the most numerous shall have the greatest number of enemies, who, though constantly employed on the destruction of individuals, are unable to effect that of the species; by which means an equilibrium is preserved, and no one species preponderates. Few insects live long after their last transformation, but their species are continued by their amazing fecundity; their growth is completed, and their parts hardened sooner than those of larger animals, and the duration of their existence is proportionably limited. There are, however some species of flies which lie in a torpid state during the winter, and revive with the returning warmth of spring. OF THE FOOD OF INSECTS. There are few, if any, productions either of the animal or vegetable kingdoms, which do not supply some kind of insect with food. They may, therefore, be considered under two heads, those which live on vegetables, and those which are supported by animal food; each insect knows that which is proper to sustain its life, where to seek it, and how to procure it. I have already observed, that several insects, when arrived at a state of perfection, feed after their transformation upon food totally different from that which nourished them in their larva state. Among those which feed on vegetables, some sink themselves in the earth, and by destroying the roots of the plants, do considerable injuries to our gardens. The food of others is dry and hard; they pierce the wood, reduce it to powder, and then feed on it; some, as the cossus, attack and destroy the trees, while the food of others more delicate is the leaves. The leaf is eaten in a different manner by different insects; some eat the whole substance, while others feed only on the parenchymous parts, which are contained between its superficial membranes, forming withinside the leaf paths and galleries. These insects are not always content with the leaf, but attack the flower also: even this food is too gross for many; the bee, the butterfly, the moth, as well as several species of flies, feed only on the honey, or finer juices, which they collect from flowers. We are continually finding the larva of some insect in pears, plumbs, peaches, and other fruit; these unwelcome intruders on the produce of human industry divide fruits, grain, and corn with us, often depriving us of large quantities. There is, indeed, no part of a plant which does not serve as food to different insects; some have one kind of plant marked out for them to inhabit and feed on, others have another assigned to them, on which, and no other, they will feed; each has its appropriate food, and though the parent animal eats not at all, or lives upon food entirely different, yet she is guided, as has before been observed, to deposit her eggs on that peculiar shrub or plant that will be food for her young; while some, more voracious than the rest, feed upon all with equal avidity; but in countries less cultivated than our own, their annoyance and devastations are terrible. The gryllus migratorius, a few years since, poured out of Tartary in such quantities, as to lay waste a great part of Europe, producing almost unequalled calamities, swarming in such multitudes as to cloud the air and cover the ground, mocking human power and craft; wherever they settled, all verdure disappeared, and the summer fruitfulness was turned into winter desolation; in Sweden the cattle perished with hunger, and the men were forced to abandon their country, and fly to the neighbouring regions.87 The far greater part feed only, however, on one species of plant, or at most on those which are similar to it, and the same species may always be found on the same plant. Reaumur says, that the caterpillar which infests and feeds upon the cabbage, destroys in twentyfour hours more than twice its weight. If larger animals required a proportionable quantity, the earth would not afford sufficient nourishment for its inhabitants. 87 Select Dissertations from the Amnitates Academic, vol. I, p. 398. A great number of insects reject vegetable, and live on animal food; some seeking that which is beginning to putrefy, while others delight in food entirely putrid; others again are nourished by the most filthy puddles, and disgusting excrements; some attack and feed on man himself, while others are nourished by his provision, his cloaths, his furniture: some prey upon insects of another species; others, again, attack their own, and harrass each other with perpetual carnage. Reaumur informs us, that those insects which feed upon dead carcases never attack living animals; the fleshfly deposits her eggs in the bodies of dead animals, where her progeny receive that nourishment best adapted for them; but this fly never attempts to lay her eggs in the flesh of sound and living animals. Every animal has its appropriate lice, which feed on and infest it. M. Rhedi has given an accurate account of a great number of these little noxious creatures accompanied with figures; but, as if it were not sufficient that these creatures should dwell and live on the external part of the body, and suck the blood of the animal that they infest, we find another species of insects seeking their food in the more vital parts, and feeding on the flesh of the animal, while full of life and health. Reaumur has given an history of a fly, oestrus bovis, the larva of which lives upon the backs, and feeds on the flesh of young oxen and cows, where it produces a kind of tumor. The fly lodges its eggs in the flesh, by making a number of little wounds, in each of which it deposits eggs, so that every wound becomes a nest, the eggs of which are hatched by the heat of the animal. Here the larv find abundant food, at the same time that they are protected from the changes of the weather; and here they stay till they are fit for transformation. The parts they inhabit are often easy to be discovered by a kind of lump or tumor, which they form by their ravages; this tumor suppurates, and is filled with matter; on this disgusting substance the larv feed, and their heads are always found plunged in it.88 88 The obscure and singular habitations of the British oestri are the stomach and intestines of the horse, the frontal and maxillary sinuses of sheep, and beneath the skin of the backs of horned cattle. In other parts of the world they inhabit various other animals. The larva of the oestrus bovis lives beneath the skin of horned cattle, between it and the cellular membrane, in a proper sack or abcess, which is rather larger than the insect, and by narrowing upwards opens externally to the air by a small aperture. When arrived at its full growth, it effects its escape from the abcess by pressing against the external opening; when the opening has thus obtained the size of a small pea, the larva writhes itself through, and falls from the back of the animal to the ground; and, seeking a convenient retreat, becomes a chrysalis, in which state it continues from about the latter end of June to about the middle of August; the perfect insect, on leaving the chrysalis, forces open a very remarkable marginated triangular lid or operculum. The oestrus in its perfect or fly state is the largest of the European species of this genus, and is very beautiful. Although its effects on the cattle have been so often remarked, yet the fly itself is rarely seen or taken, as the attempt would be attended with considerable danger. The pain it inflicts in depositing its egg is much more severe than in any of the other species: when one of the cattle is attacked by this fly, it is easily known by the extreme terror and agitation of the whole herd; the unfortunate object of the attack runs bellowing from among them to some distant part of the heath, or the nearest water, while the tail, from the severity of the pain, is held with a tremulous motion straight from the body, in the direction of the spine, and the head and neck are also stretched out to the utmost. The rest, from fear, generally follow to the water, and disperse to different parts of the field. The larv of this insect are mostly known among the country people by the name of wornuls, wormuls, or warbles, or more properly bots. The larva of the oestrus equi is very commonly found in the stomach of horses. These larv attach themselves to every part of the stomach, but are generally most numerous about the pylorus; and are sometimes found in the intestines. They hang most commonly in clusters, being fixed by the small end to the inner membrane of the stomach, to which they adhere by two small hooks or tentacula. The larv having attained their full growth in about a month, on dropping to the ground find some convenient retreat, change to the chrysalis, and in about six or seven weeks the fly appears. The larva of the oestrus hmorrhoidalis resembles in almost every respect that of the oestrus equi, and occupies the same situation in the stomach of the horse. When it is ripe, and has passed through the intestines and the sphincter ani it assumes the chrysalis state in about two days, and in about two months the fly appears. The generally received opinion has been that the female fly enters the anus of the horse to deposit its eggs, and Reaumur relates this circumstance on the authority of Dr. Gaspari; from the account of its getting beneath the tail, it is probable that the fly he saw was the hippobosca equina, which frequently does this: its getting within the rectum appears to have been additional. That a fly might deposit its eggs on the verge of the anus is not impossible, but we know no instance of it: the fact is, that the part chosen by the oestrus hmorrhoidalis for this purpose is the lips of the horse, which is very distressing to the animal from the excessive titillation it occasions; for he immediately after rubs his mouth against the ground, his fore legs, or sometimes against a tree, or if two are standing together, they often rub themselves against each other. At the sight of this fly, the horse appears much agitated, and moves its head backward and forward in the air to baulk its touch, and prevent its darting on the lips; but the fly, watching for a favourable opportunity, continues to repeat the operation; till at length, the enraged animal endeavours to avoid it by galloping away to a distant part of the field. If still pursued, its last resource is in the water, where the oestrus is never observed to follow him. The oestrus veterinus is by Linnus called nasalis, from an idea of its entering the nostrils of the horse to deposit its eggs, which it could not well do without destroying its wings, and is therefore probably as much a fable as the mire per anum intrans of the oestrus hmorrhoidalis. The oestrus ovis is mostly found in the horns and frontal sinuses of the sheep, though it has been remarked that the membranes lining these cavities were hardly at all inflamed, while those of the maxillary sinuses were highly so; from which it is suspected that they inhabit the maxillary sinuses, and crawl, on the death of the animal, into these situations in the horns and frontal sinuses. When the larv are fullgrown they fall through the nostrils, and change to the pupa state, lying on the earth, or adhering by the side to a blade of grass. The fly bursts the shell of the pupa in about two months. The above concise account of the different oestri is extracted from the excellent paper on the subject by Mr. B. Clark, F. L. S. For his more ample description, accompanied with coloured figures of the several British species, see Transactions of the Linnean Society, vol. iii. page 283329, just published. EDIT. Neither the larva, pupa, or even the eggstate of some insects are exempt from the attacks of others, who deposit their eggs in them; these, after having passed through the usual transformations, become what is termed the ichneumon fly. The following are the curious observations of an ingenious naturalist on this fly. As I was observing, says he, one day some caterpillars which were feeding voluptuously on a cabbage leaf, my attention was attracted to part of the plant, about which a little fly was buzzing on its wing, as if deliberating where to settle: I was surprized to see the herd of caterpillars, creatures of twenty times its size, endeavouring in an uncouth manner, by various contortions of the body to get out of its way, and more so whenever the fly poised on the wing as if going to drop; at length the creature made its choice, and seated itself on the back of one of the largest and fairest of the cluster; it was in vain the unhappy reptile endeavoured to dislodge the enemy. If the caterpillar had shewn terror on the approach of the fly, its anguish at intervals now seemed intolerable, and I soon found that it was in consequence of the strokes or wounds given by the fly. At every wound the poor caterpillar wreathed and twisted its whole frame, endeavouring to disengage itself, by shaking off the enemy, sometimes aiming its mouth towards the place; but it was all in vain; its little, but cruel tormentor kept its place. When it had inflicted thirty or forty of these wounds, it took its flight with a visible triumph; in each of these wounds the little fly had deposited an egg. I took the caterpillar home with me, to observe the progress of the eggs which were thus placed in its body, taking care to give it a fresh supply of leaves from time to time; it recovered to all appearance in a few hours from the wounds it had received, and from that time, for the space of four or five days, seemed to feed with its usual avidity. The eggs were all hatched into small oblong voracious worms, which fed from the moment of their appearance on the flesh of the caterpillar, in whose body they were inclosed, and seemingly without wounding the organs of respiration or digestion; and when they had arrived at their full growth, they eat their way out of the sides of the animal, at the same time destroying it. The caterpillar thus attacked by the larva of the ichneumon never escapes, its destruction is infallible; but then its life is not taken away at once; the larva, while it is feeding thereon, knows how to spare the parts which are essential to its life, because its own is at that time tied up in that of the caterpillar. No butterfly is produced from it; the worms that feed on the wretched creature, are no sooner out of its body, than every one spins its own web, and under this they pass the state of rest necessary to introduce them to their winged form.89 To treat of each species of the ichneumon would alone fill a volume; Linnus enumerates no less than seventyseven of them.90 89 Inspector, No. 64. 90 The genus of insects called ichneumon derive their support and nourishment from other insects, some depositing their eggs in the larva, others again in the pupa, and some even in the ovum or egg itself, the contents of which, minute as they are, are sufficient to support the young larv until their change into their pupa state. Some deposit only one egg in a place, as the ichneumon ovulorum, and others again a great number, as ichneumon puparum, c. but whether the egg be placed in the pupa, larva, or ovum, the destruction of the foster parent is inevitable. The larv of large moths or butterflies that have been wounded by an ichneumon, live and feed, though with evident marks of disease, until those parasites are full fed, and able to change into their second or pupa state. See Observations on the conomy of the Ichneumon Manifestator, in the Transactions of the Linnean Society, vol. 3, p. 23  seq. by T. Marsham, Esq. Sec. L. S. EDIT. Of this strange scene it is difficult for us to form a proper judgment; we are unacquainted with the organs of the caterpillar, ignorant of the nature of its sensations, and therefore we cannot be assured what may be the effects of that which we see it suffer. It is wisdom to suppose we are ignorant, while we know the Creator cannot be cruel. From revelation we learn, that man is the mean through which life is conveyed to the creatures of this lower world; that by sinking into error, and fostering evil, he perverts his own life, and corrupts all that which proceeds from him: so that the effects are the same on the orders beneath him, as would arise to the world if a continual cloud was placed between us and the sun, depriving us at once of the salutary effects of its invigorating heat and cheering light. Hence there is in this degraded world an obscure and melancholy shade cast over all the beauties of creation. Lastly, the number of insects which feed upon others, nay, some even upon their own species, is very great: it is among these that we find the traces of the greatest art and cunning, as well in attack as defence; some indeed use main force alone. Most persons are acquainted with the dexterous arts of the spider, the curious construction of the web he spins, and the central position he takes, in order to watch more effectually the least motion that may be communicated to its tender net. Those who wish to pursue this subject further, will find ample satisfaction by consulting the works of Reaumur and De Geer. OF THE HABITATION OF INSECTS. Insects may be divided, with respect to their habitations, into two classes, aquatic and terrestrial. Stagnant waters are generally filled with insects, who live therein in different manners. These are, 1. Aquatic insects which remain always on the superficies of the water, or which at least plunge themselves therein but rarely. 2. Others that live only in the water, and cannot subsist out of it. 3. Many, after having lived in the water while in the larva and pupa state, quit it afterwards with wings, and become entirely terrestrial. 4. Some undergo all their transformations in the water, and then become amphibious. 5. Others again are born and grow in the water, but undergo their pupa state on dry land, and after they are arrived at their perfect state, live equally in air and water; and 6. There are some who live at the same time part in the water and part on land, but after their transformation cease to be aquatic. Among the insects which remain on the superficies of the water, are some spiders, which run with great address and agility, without moistening their feet or their body; when they repose themselves, they extend their feet as much as possible. There are also aquatic bugs, which swim, or rather run on the water with great velocity, and by troops; another bug walks very slowly on the water; the gyrinus moves very swiftly, and in circles. There is a species of podura91 which live in society, and are often accumulated together in little black lumps. Those insects which always live in the water are generally born with the figure which they retain during their whole lives, as the monoculi, crabs, several kinds of water mites, c. 91 De Geer Discours sur les Insectes, tom. 2, p. 103. Those insects which, after having lived in the water, leave it when in a winged state, are very numerous: among these we may reckon the libellula, the ephemera, the phryganea, culices, tipul, and some species of musc. All these, when in the larva and pupa state, live in the water; but when they have assumed their perfect form, are entirely terrestrial, and would perish in their former element. The notonecta, the nepa or aquatic scorpion, c. never quit the water till they have passed through all their transformations, when they become amphibious, generally quitting it in the evening. The waterbeetles, of which there are many species, remain in the water all day, but toward evening come upon the ground and fly about, then plunge themselves again in the water at the approach of the rising sun. The larv of these insects are entirely aquatic, but when the time of their pupa state arrives, they take to the earth, where they make a spherical case; so that these insects are aquatic in the larva, terrestrial in the pupa, and amphibious in the imago state. We find an instance of an insect that lives at the same time in the water and the air, in the singular larva described by Reaumur, Memoires de lAcad. in 1714, p. 203. It has the head and tail in the water, while the rest of the body is continually kept above the surface. In order to support itself in this singular position, it bends the body, bringing the head near the tail, raising the rest above the water, and supporting itself against some fixed object, as a plant, or against the borders of the pond; or, if it be placed in a glass vessel, against the sides of the vessel; and if the glass be inclined gently, so that the water may nearly cover the larva, it immediately changes its position, in order that part of the body may be kept dry. At the baths of Abano, a small town in the Venetian state, there is a multitude of springs, strongly impregnated with sulphur, and of a boiling heat. In the midst of these boiling springs, within three feet of four or five of them, there is a tepid one about bloodwarm. In this water, not only the common potamogetons and confervas, or pondweeds and watermosses are found growing in an healthy state, but numbers of small black water beetles are seen swimming about, which die on being taken out and plunged suddenly into cold water.92 92 Joness Physiological Disquisitions, p. 171. Many insects that live under the surface of the earth crawl out on certain occasions, as the julus, scolopendra, and the oniscus; they are often also to be found under stones, or pieces of rotten wood. Some insects remain under ground part of their life, but quit that situation after their change; as do some caterpillars, many of the coleoptera class, c. There are some species of spiders, which form habitations in sand; one of which makes a hole in the sand, lining it with a kind of silk, to prevent its crumbling away; this spider generally keeps on the watch near the mouth of the hole, and, if a fly approach, runs at it with such velocity, as seldom to fail in its attempt of seizing the little animal, which is immediately conveyed to the den of the spider. The formicaleo, or antlion, also inhabits sand.93 93 The art and dexterity with which the formicaleo entraps ants, as well as other insects, merits notice; he makes a pit in fine dry sand, shaped like a funnel or an inverted cone, at the point or reverted apex of which he takes his station, concealing every part of his body except the tips of his two horns; these are expanded to the two sides of the pit. When an insect treads on the edge of this precipice, it perhaps slides into it; if not, its steps remove a little of the sand, which of course descends down the sides, and gives the enemy notice of his prey. He then throws up the sand with which his head is covered, to involve the insect, and bring it to the bottom with the returning force of the sand: this, by repeated efforts he is sure to effect, as all the attempts of the unfortunate victim to escape, when once within the verge of the pit, are in vain. One species of the formicaleo forms no pit to entrap its prey, but seizes it by main force. EDIT. Another spider, discovered by M. lAbbe Sauvage,94 burrows in the earth like a rabbit, making a hole one or two feet deep, of a regular diameter, and sufficiently large to move itself with ease. It lines the whole of it, either to keep the ground from tumbling in, or in order to perceive more regularly at the bottom what happens at the mouth, at which it forms a kind of door, made of different layers of earth, connected together by threads and covered with a strong web of a close texture; the threads are prolonged on one side, and fixed to the ground, so as to form a strong joint; the door is hung in such a manner, as always to fall by its own gravity. One of these cases or nests is in her Majestys cabinet at Kew. 94 Histoire de lAcad. 1758, p. 26. The several parts of trees and plants afford a variety of habitations for insects, where they find an abundance of food. They dwell, l. in the roots; 2. in the wood; 3. in the leaves, and in the galls which grow upon them and the branches; 4. in the flowers; 5. in the fruits and grains. To enumerate the various species of these inhabitants would be endless; many particulars have been already noticed; it has also appeared that some inhabit the most ftid substances they can find, while others dwell with and live on the larger animals; so that it only remains just to mention some of those in whom industry and art is more strongly marked to our eyes than in others. Among the solitary bees there are so many curious circumstances to be described, that a single volume would not suffice to contain the particulars; we shall here only relate such as concern their habitations. One of these forms its nest under ground, which is composed of several cells artfully let into each other, but not covered with a common inclosure; each cell consists of two or three membranes, inexpressibly fine, and placed over each other. The cavity, in which the nest is placed, is smeared over with a layer of matter, like that of which the cells are formed, and apparently similar to the viscous humour which snails spread in their passage from one place to another, and it is probable that they are formed of the same materials; this substance, though of so delicate a nature, gives them such a degree of consistency, that they may be handled without altering their form. An egg is deposited at the bottom of each cell, where, after it is hatched, the worm finds itself in the midst of a plentiful stock of provision; for in each cell there is placed a quantity of paste, or a kind of wax, which is to serve as food for the worm, and support the wall of the cell. The worm is also instructed so to conduct itself, and eat this food, as to leave sufficient props for supporting the walls of its apartment. Many species of these bees content themselves with penetrating into the earth, scooping out hollow cavities therein, polishing the walls, then depositing an egg and a sufficient quantity of provisions. There is another species, that forms its nest under ground with remarkable industry; this bee generally makes a perpendicular hole in the earth about three inches deep, and cylindrical, till within about threefourths of an inch of the bottom, when it begins to enlarge; as soon as the bee has given it the suitable proportions, it proceeds to line not only the whole inside of its dwelling, but round the entrance; the substance with which it is lined is of a crimson colour, and looks like satin. From this circumstance Reaumur95 terms it the tapestry bee. This tapestry or lining is formed of fragments of the flowers of the wild poppy, which she cuts out curiously, and then seizing them with her legs, conveys them to her nest. If the pieces are wrinkled, she first straightens and then affixes them to her walls with wonderous art; she generally applies two layers of these fragments one over the other. If the piece she has cut and transported be too large for the place she intends it for, she clips off the superfluous parts and conveys the shreds out of the apartment. After the bee has lined her cell, she fills it nearly half an inch deep with a paste proper to nourish the larva when hatched from the egg; when the bee has amassed a sufficient quantity of paste, she then takes her tapestry, and folds it over the paste and egg, which are by these means inclosed as it were in a bag of paste; this done, she fills up with earth the empty space that is above the bag. There is another bee which does the same with roseleaves, and in the substance of a thick post. A friend of mine had a piece of wood cut from a strong post that supported the roof of a carthouse, full of these cells or round holes, threeeighths of an inch in diameter, and about threefourths deep, each of which was filled with these roseleaf cases finely covered in at top and bottom. 95 Reaumur Memoires pour lHistoire des Insectes, edit. 8vo. tom. 6, partie 1, p. 170. The mason bee is so called by Reaumur from the manner of its building its nest. These bees collect with their jaws small parcels of earth and sand, which they glue together with a strong cement furnished from the proboscis; and of this they form a simple but commodious habitation, which is generally placed along walls that are exposed to the south. Each nest resembles a lump of rude earth, of about six or seven inches diameter, thrown against the wall; the labour of constructing so large an edifice must be very great, as the bee can only carry a few grains at a time. The exterior form is rude and irregular, but the construction and art exhibited in the interior parts make up for this seeming defect; it is generally divided into twelve or fifteen cells, separated from each other by a thick wall; in each of these an egg is deposited by the parent bee. The cells are not constructed all at once, for when one is finished, she places an egg therein, with a sufficient quantity of honey to nourish the larva; she then builds another. When the insect is arrived at a proper state, it penetrates through its inclosures by means of its strong jaws. When all the bees have quitted the nest, there are as many holes on the surface thereof as there are cells within. We find no neutral bees among this species, or at least we do not know of any being yet discovered. Another species of the solitary bee (apis centuncularis, Linn.) constructs her nest in pieces of rotten wood, and has therefore been called the carpenter bee.96 She divides it into stages, disposing them sometimes in three rows, with partitions curiously left between each; in these she deposits her eggs, with the food necessary for the young ones when hatched. They separate the wood in a very expeditious manner, by dividing its ligneous fibres or threads, till they have made a proper sized hole. 96 Geoffroy Hist. abregee des Insectes, tom. 2, p. 401. The art and sagacity displayed by another bee,97 whose nest is constructed of single pieces of leaves, is truly wonderful. The nest itself is cylindrical, formed of several cells, placed one within the other, as thimbles are in a hardware shop. The cells consist of several pieces cut from one leaf, of forms and proportions proper to coincide with the place each is intended to occupy. The outer case or cover is formed with equal care and exactness. In a word, says Bonnet, there is so much exactness, symmetry, uniformity, and skill, in this little masterpiece, that we should not believe it to be the work of a fly, if we did not know at what school she learnt the art of constructing it. In each cell the mother deposits an almost liquid substance, and yet so nicely are the cells formed, as not to suffer any of this substance to be lost. But for a minute account of the works of this bee, and the curious mechanism of its cells, we must refer the reader to Reaumurs admirable history of insects. 97 Reaumur Memoires pour lHistoire des Insectes, tom. 6, par. 1, p. 122. The proceedings of the mason ichneumon wasp,98 sphex, Linn. are totally different from those of the common wasp, though equally curious. It generally begins its work in May, and continues it for the greatest part of June. The true object of her labour seems to be the digging of a hole a few inches deep in the ground; yet in the constructing of this, she forms a hollow tube above ground, the base of which is the aperture of the hole, and which is raised as high above ground as the hole is deep below; it is formed with a great deal of care, resembling a gross kind of fillagree work, consisting of the sand drawn from the hole. The sand out of which she excavates her cell, is nearly as hard as a common stone; this it readily softens with a penetrating liquor with which she is well provided; a drop or two of it is imbibed immediately by the sand on which it falls, which is instantly rendered so soft, that she can separate and knead it with her teeth and fore feet, forming it into a small ball, which she places on the edge of the hole as the foundation stone of the pillar she is going to erect; the whole of it is formed of such balls, ranged circularly, and then placed one above the other. She leaves her work at intervals, probably in order to renew her stock of that liquor which is so necessary for her operations. These intervals are of short duration; she soon returns, and labours with so much activity and ardour, that in a few hours she will dig a hole two or three inches deep, and raise a hollow pillar two inches high. After the column has been raised a certain height perpendicular from the ground, it begins to curve a little, which curvature increases till it is finished, though the cylindrical form is maintained: she constructs several of these holes all of the same form, and for the same purpose. It is easy to see why the hole was dug in the ground; that it was destined to receive an egg; but it is not so easy to perceive why the tube of sand was formed. By attending to the labours of the wasp, one end, however, may be discovered; it will be found to serve the purpose of a scaffold, and that the balls are as useful to the wasp, as materials, c. to the mason; and are therefore placed as much within her reach as possible. She uses them to stop and fill up the hole after she has deposited an egg therein, so that the pillar is then destroyed, and not the least remains left in the nest. The parent wasp generally leaves ten or twelve worms as provision necessary and proper for the growth of the young larva: no purveyor could take better precautions than our wasp, for she has received her instructions from HIM who provides for the necessities of all his creatures. In selecting the worms, she chooses those of a proper size, that they may be sufficient in quantity, and of an age that will not be in danger of perishing with hunger, in which case they would have been corrupted; she therefore selects them when they have their full growth. It is also observed, that if she choose a larger sort, she gives a less number of them, and so reciprocally. 98 Reaumur Mem. pour lHistoire des Insectes, tom. xi. par. 2, p. 9. From a retrospect view of this chapter, we may observe a striking difference between man and the lower orders of animal creation. Man is born totally ignorant; so much so, that he has no knowledge even of the mothers breast, till he has been brought acquainted with it by repeated trials; he has no innate ideas, is unable to choose what is proper for his food; he cannot form his voice to any articulate pronunciation, or to express the affections of love; whereas the quadruped, the bird, and the insect, are born to all that knowledge which is necessary for the gratification of those desires or that love which forms their life; and, consequently, in the knowledge of every thing relating to their wellbeing, their food, their habitations, the commerce of the sexes, their provision for their young, c. from the impulse of the pleasure arising from these innate desires and affections, the larva is also prompted to seek and aspire after a change of its earthly state. If it were not foreign to the subject in hand, it might be easy to shew, by a variety of reasons, that this imperfection of man at his nativity constitutes his real perfection, and places him infinitely, if I may so speak, above the brute creation; for man is not created relatively perfect, but formed a recipient of all perfection. OF THE TERMITES, GENERALLY CALLED WHITE ANTS. As no insects exceed the termites in their wonderful conomy, wise contrivances, and stupendous buildings, it will be proper to give the reader some account of them; which I am enabled to do from the excellent paper written by the late Mr. Smeathman, and published in the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1781, part 1. The termites are represented by Linnus as the greatest plagues of both Indies, and are indeed justly deemed so every where between the tropics, on account of the vast damages sustained through them in consequence of their eating and perforating wooden buildings, utensils, furniture, c. which are totally destroyed by them if not timely prevented; for no substance less hard than metal or stone can escape their most destructive jaws. These insects have been noticed by various travellers in different parts of the torrid zone; where numerous, as is the case with all equinoctial continents, and islands not fully cultivated, many persons have been excited by curiosity to observe them; and, indeed, those devoid of that disposition must have been very fortunate, if, after a short residence, they were not compelled to pay them attention for the preservation of their property. They make their approaches chiefly under ground, descending below the foundations of houses and stores, at several feet from the surface, and rising again either in the floors, or entering at the bottoms of the posts of which the sides of the buildings are composed, boring quite through them, following the course of the fibres to the top, or making lateral perforations and cavities here and there as they proceed. While some are employed in gutting the posts, others ascend from them, entering a rafter, or some other part of the roof. If they once find the thatch, which seems to be a favourite food, they soon bring up wet clay, and build their pipes or galleries through the roof in various directions, as long as it will support them; sometimes eating the palmtree leaves and branches of which it is composed, and perhaps, for variety seems very pleasing to them, the rattan, or other running plant, which is used as a cord to tie the various parts of the roof together, and that to the posts which support it. Thus, with the assistance of the rats, who during the rainy season are apt to shelter themselves there, and to burrow through it, they very soon ruin the house, by weakening the fastenings, and exposing it to the wet. In the mean time the posts will be perforated in every direction as full of holes as that timber in the bottoms of ships, which has been bored by the worms; the fibrous and knotty parts, which are the hardest, being left to the last. These insects are not less expeditious in destroying the shelves, wainscotting, and other fixtures of an house, than the house itself. They are continually piercing and boring in all directions, and sometimes go out of the broadside of one post into that of another adjoining to it; but they prefer and always destroy the softer substances the first, and are particularly fond of pine and fir boards, which they excavate and carry away with wonderful dispatch and astonishing cunning; for, except a shelf has something standing upon it, as a book, or any thing else which may tempt them, they will not perforate the surface, but artfully preserve it quite whole, and eat away all the inside, except a few fibres which barely keep the two sides connected together; so that a piece of an inchboard, which appears solid to the eye, will not weigh much more than two sheets of pasteboard of equal dimensions, after these animals have been a little while in possession of it. In short, the termites are so insidious in their attacks, that we cannot be too much upon our guard against them: they will sometimes begin and raise their works, especially in new houses, through the floor. If you destroy the work so begun, and make a fire upon the spot, the next night they will attempt to rise through another part; and if they happen to emerge under a chest or trunk, early in the night will pierce the bottom, and destroy or spoil every thing in it before the morning. On these accounts the inhabitants set all their chests or boxes upon stones or bricks, so as to leave the bottoms of such furniture some inches above the ground, which not only prevents these insects finding them out so readily, but preserves the bottoms from a corrosive damp, which would strike from the earth through, and rot every thing therein: a vast deal of vermin also would harbour under, such as cockroaches, centipedes, millepedes, scorpions, ants, and various other noisome insects. It may be presumed that they have obtained the name of ants from the similarity in their manner of living with those insects, which is in large communities, that erect very extraordinary nests, for the most part on the surface of the ground; from whence their excursions are made through subterraneous passages or covered galleries, which they build whenever necessity obliges, or plunder induces them to march above ground, and at a great distance from their habitations, carry on a business of depredation and destruction scarce credible but to those who have seen it; but, notwithstanding they live in communities, and are, like the ants, omnivorous; though, like them, at a certain period they are furnished with four wings, and emigrate or colonize at the same season, they are by no means the same kind of insects, nor does their form correspond with that of ants in any one state of their existence. The termites resemble the ants, indeed, in their provident and diligent labour, but surpass them, as well as the bees, wasps, beavers, and all other animals, in the art of building, as much as Europeans excel the most uncultivated savages. They shew more substantial instances of ingenuity and industry than any other animals; and do, in fact, lay up vast magazines of provisions and other stores; a degree of prudence which has of late years been denied, perhaps without reason, to the ants. The communities consist of one male and one female, which are generally the common parents of the whole or greater part of the rest, and of three orders of insects, apparently very different species, but really the same, which together compose great commonwealths or rather monarchies. The great Linnus having seen or heard of but two of these orders, has classed the genus erroneously, for he has placed it among the aptera, or insects without wings; whereas the insect in its perfect state, having four wings without any sting, belongs to the neuroptera; in which class it will constitute a new genus of many species. The different species of this genus resemble each other in form, in their manner of living, and in their good and bad qualities, but differ as much as birds in the manner of building their habitations or nests, and in the choice of the materials of which they compose them. There are some species which build upon the surface of the ground, or part above and part beneath; and one or two species, perhaps more, that build on the stem or branches of trees. There are of every species of termites three orders: 1. The working insects, which for brevity we shall call labourers. 2. The fighters or soldiers, which do not labour; and 3. The winged or perfect insects, which are male and female, and capable of propagation. From these the kings and queens are chosen, and nature has so ordered it, that they emigrate within a few weeks after their elevation to this state, and either establish new kingdoms, or perish within a day or two. Of these, the working insects or labourers are always the most numerous; among that species emphatically called termes bellicosus, which is the largest, there seem to be at the least onehundred labourers to one of the fighting insects or soldiers. They are in this state about onefourth of an inch long, and twentyfive of them weigh about a grain, so that they are not so large as some of our ants; from their external habits and fondness for wood, they have been very expressively called woodlice by some people, and the whole genus has been known by that name, particularly among the French. They resemble them, it is true, very much at a distance; they run as fast or faster than any other insect of their size, and are incessantly in a bustle. The second order, or soldiers, have a very different appearance from the labourers, and have been by some authors supposed to be the males, and the former neuters; but they are, in fact, the same insects as the foregoing, only they have undergone a change of form, and approached one degree nearer to the perfect state. They are much larger, being half an inch long, and equal in size to fifteen of the labourers. There is now, likewise, a most remarkable circumstance in the form of the head and mouth; for in the former state the mouth is evidently calculated for gnawing and holding bodies; but in this state, the jaws being shaped like two very sharp awls a little jagged, they are incapable of any thing but piercing or wounding, for which purposes they are well calculated, being as hard as a crabs claw and placed in a strong horny head larger than all the rest of the body together. The insect in its perfect state is varied still more in its form; the head, thorax, and abdomen, differ almost entirely from the same parts in the labourers and soldiers; and, besides this, the animal is now furnished with four fine large brownish transparent wings, with which it is, at the time of emigration, to wing its way in search of a new settlement; in short, it differs so much from its form and appearance in the two other states, that it has never been supposed to be the same animal, but by those who have seen it in the same nest; and some of these have distrusted the evidence of their senses. It was so long before Mr. Smeathman met with them in the nests, that he doubted the information which was given him by the natives, that they belonged to the same family: indeed, twenty nests may be opened without finding one winged one; for those are to be found only just before the commencement of the rainy season, when they undergo the last change, which is preparative to their colonization. Add to this, they sometimes abandon an outward part of their building, the community being diminished by some accident that is unknown; sometimes different species of the real ant, formica, possess themselves by force of a lodgment, and so are frequently dislodged from the same nest, and taken for the same kind of insects. This is often the case with the nests of the smaller species, which are frequently totally abandoned by the termites, and completely inhabited by different species of ants, cockroaches, scolopendr, scorpions, and other vermin fond of obscure retreats, that occupy different parts of their roomy buildings. In the winged state, their size as well as form is altered. Their bodies in this state measure between six and seventenths of an inch in length, their wings above two inches and an half from tip to tip, and they are equal in bulk to about thirty labourers, or two soldiers. They are furnished with two large eyes placed on each side of the head; if they had any before, they are not easily to be distinguished. In this form the animal comes abroad during or soon after the first tornado, which at the latter end of the dry season proclaims the approach of the ensuing rains, and seldom waits for a second or third shower; if the first, as is generally the case, happen in the night, and bring much wet after it, the quantities that are to be found the next morning all over the surface of the earth, but particularly on the waters, is astonishing; for their wings are only calculated to carry them a few hours; and after the rising of the sun, not one in a thousand is to be found with four wings, unless the morning continues rainy, when here and there a solitary being is seen winging its way from one place to another, as if solicitous to avoid its numerous enemies, particularly various species of ants, which are hunting on every spray, on every leaf, and in every possible place for this unhappy race, of which probably not one pair in many millions are preserved to fulfil the first law of nature, and lay the foundation of a new community. Not only all kinds of ants, and other insects, but birds, and carnivorous reptiles, are upon the hunt for them, and the inhabitants of many countries eat them. From one of the most active, industrious, and rapacious; from one of the most fierce and implacable little animals in the world, they are in this state changed into an innocent helpless insect, incapable of making the least resistance to the smallest ant. The ants are to be seen on every side in infinite numbers, of various species and sizes, dragging these annual victims to their different nests. Some are however so fortunate as to escape, and be discovered by the labouring insects that are continually running about the surface of the ground under their covered galleries, the little industrious creatures immediately inclose them in a small chamber of clay, suitable to their size, into which at first they leave but one small entrance, only large enough for themselves and the soldiers to go in and out, but necessity obliges them to make more entrances. The voluntary subjects charge themselves with the task of providing for the offspring of their sovereigns, as well as to work and to fight for them, until they shall have raised a progeny capable at least of dividing the task with them. The business of propagation soon commences; and the labourers having constructed a small wooden nursery, hereafter to be described, carry the eggs and lodge them there as fast as they can obtain them from the queen. About this time a most extraordinary change begins to take place in the queen, to which we know nothing similar, except in the pulex penetrans of Linnus, the jigger of the WestIndies, and in the different species of coccus cochineal. The abdomen of this female begins gradually to extend and enlarge to such an enormous size, that an old queen will have it increased so as to be fifteen hundred or two thousand times the bulk of the rest of her body, and twenty or thirty thousand times the bulk of a labourer; the skin between the segments of the abdomen extends in every direction, and at last the segments are removed to half an inch distance from each other, though at first the length of the whole abdomen was not above half an inch. They preserve their darkbrown colour, and the upper part of the abdomen is marked with a regular series of brown bars, from the thorax to the posterior part of the abdomen, while the intervals between them are covered with a thin, delicate, transparent skin, and appear of a fine cream colour, a little shaded by the dark colour of the intestines and watery fluid seen here and there beneath. It is supposed that the animal is upwards of two years old when the abdomen is increased to three inches in length: they have sometimes been found of near twice that size. The abdomen is then of an irregular oblong shape, being contracted by the muscles of every segment, and is become one vast matrix full of eggs, which make long circumvolutions through an innumerable quantity of very minute vessels, that circulate round the inside in a serpentine manner, which would exercise the ingenuity of a skilful anatomist to dissect and develope. This singular matrix is not more remarkable for its amazing extension and size, than for its peristaltic motion, which resembles the undulation of waves, and continues incessantly without any apparent effort of the animal; so that one part or other is alternately rising and sinking in perpetual succession. The matrix seems never at rest, but to be always protruding eggs to the amount, in old queens, of sixty in a minute, or eighty thousand and upwards in one day of twentyfour hours. These eggs are instantly taken from her body by her attendants, and carried to the nurseries, which in a great nest may some of them be four or five feet distant in a straight line, and consequently much farther by their winding galleries. Here the young, when they are hatched, are attended and provided with every thing necessary, until they are able to shift for themselves, and take their share of the labours of the community. The termes bellicosus being the largest species, is most remarkable, and best known on the coast of Africa. It erects immense buildings of welltempered clay or earth, which are contrived and finished with such art and ingenuity, that we are at a loss to say whether they are most to be admired on that account, or for their enormous magnitude and solidity. The reason that the larger termites have been most remarked is obvious; they not only build larger and more curious nests, but are also more numerous and do infinitely more mischief to mankind.99 99 It may appear surprizing, that a Being perfectly good should have created animals which seem to serve no other end but to spread destruction and desolation wherever they go. But let us be cautious in suspecting any imperfection in the Father of the universe: what, on a superficial view may seem only productive of mischief, will upon mature deliberation be found worthy of that wisdom which pervades every part of the creation. Many poisons prove valuable medicines; storms are beneficial; and diseases often preserve life, and are conducive to its future enjoyments. The termites, it must be allowed, are frequently pernicious to mankind, but they are also very useful, and even necessary; one valuable purpose which they serve, is, to destroy decayed trees and other substances, which, if left on the surface of the ground in hot climates, would in a short time pollute the air. In this respect, they resemble very much the common flies, which are regarded by the generality of mankind as noxious, and at best, as useless beings in the creation; but this is certainly for want of due consideration. There are not probably in all nature animals of more importance; and it would not be difficult to prove, that we should feel the want of one or two species of large quadrupeds much less than of one or two species of these despicable looking insects. Nothing is more disagreeable or more pestiferous than putrid substances; and it is apparent to all who have made the observation, that these little insects contribute more to the quick dissolution and dispersion of putrescent matter than any other. They are so necessary in all hot climates, that even in the open fields a dead animal or small putrid substance cannot be laid on the ground two minutes, before it will be covered with flies and their maggots, which instantly entering, quickly devour one part, and, perforating the rest in various directions, expose the whole to be much sooner dissipated by the elements. Thus it is with the termites; the rapid vegetation in hot climates, of which no idea can be formed by any thing to be seen in this, is equalled by as great a degree of destruction from natural as well as accidental causes. When trees and even woods are in part destroyed by tornados or fire, it is wonderful to observe how many agents are employed in hastening the total dissolution of the rest; in this business none are so expert or so expeditious and effectual as the termites, who in a few weeks destroy and carry away the bodies of large trees without leaving a particle behind; thus clearing the place for other vegetables, which soon fill up every vacancy. See Encycl. Brit. art. Termes. EDIT. The nests of this species are so numerous all over the island of Bananas, and the adjacent continent of Africa, that it is scarcely possible to stand upon any open place, such as a rice plantation, or other clear spot, where one of these buildings is not to be seen almost close to each other. In some parts near Senegal, as mentioned by M. Adanson, their number, magnitude, and closeness of situation, make them appear like the villages of the natives. These buildings are usually termed hills, by the inhabitants as well as strangers, from their outward appearance, which is that of little hills more or less conical, generally very much in the form of sugarloaves, and about ten or twelve feet in perpendicular height above the common surface of the ground. These hills continue quite bare until they are six or eight feet high; but, in time, the dead barren clay of which they are composed becomes fertilized by the genial power of the elements in these prolific climates, and the addition of vegetable salts and other matters brought by the wind; and in the second or third year the hillock, if not overshaded by trees, becomes like the rest of the earth, almost covered with grass and other plants; and in the dry season, when the herbage is burnt up by the rays of the sun, it is not much unlike a very large haycock. Every one of these buildings consists of two distinct parts, the exterior and interior. The exterior cover is one large clay shell, in the form of a dome, capacious and strong enough to inclose and shelter the interior building from the vicissitudes of the weather, and the inhabitants from the attacks of natural or accidental enemies. The external cover is always, therefore, much stronger than the interior building, which is the habitable part, divided with wonderful regularity and contrivance into an amazing number of apartments for the residence of the king and queen, for the nursing of their numerous progeny, and for magazines, which are always found well filled with stores and provisions. These hills make their first appearance above ground by a little turret or two in the shape of sugarloaves, which are run a foot high or more; soon after, at some little distance, while the former are increasing in height and size, they rise others, and so go on increasing the number, and widening them at the base, till their works below are covered with these turrets, which the insects always raise highest and largest towards the middle of the hill, and by filling up the intervals between each turret, collect them as it were into one dome. They are not very curious or exact about these turrets, except in making them very solid and strong; and when, by the junction of them, the dome is completed, for which purpose the turrets serve as scaffolds, they take away the middle ones entirely, except the tops, which joined together make the crown of the cupola, and apply the clay to the building of the works within, or to erecting fresh turrets for the purpose of raising the hillock still higher; so that no doubt some part of the clay is used several times, like the boards and posts of a masons scaffold. The royal chamber, which, on account of its being adapted for, and occupied by the king and queen, appears to be in the opinion of this little people, of the most consequence, is always situated as near the center of the interior building as possible, and generally about the height of the common surface of the ground, at a pace or two from the hillock; it is always nearly in the shape of half an egg or an obtuse oval within, and may be supposed to represent a long oven. In the infant state of the colony, it is not above an inch, or thereabouts, in length; but in time will be increased to six or eight inches or more in the clear, being always in proportion to the size of the queen, who, increasing in bulk as in age, at length requires a chamber of such dimensions. The floor is horizontal, sometimes an inch thick and upward of solid clay; the roof also, which is one solid and wellturned oval arch, is generally of about the same solidity, but in some places it is not a quarter of an inch thick; this is on the sides where it joins the floor, and where the doors or entrances are made. These entrances will not admit any animal larger than the soldiers or labourers; so that the king, and the queen, who is when full grown a thousand times the weight of a king, can never possibly go out. The royal chamber, if in a large hillock, is surrounded by an innumerable quantity of others, of different sizes, shapes, and dimensions; but all of them arched, sometimes of a circular, sometimes of an elliptical form. These chambers either open into each other, or have communicating passages, and being always empty, are evidently made for the soldiers and attendants; of whom, it will soon appear, great numbers are necessary, and of course always in waiting. These apartments are joined by the magazines and nurseries; the former are chambers of clay, and are always well filled with provisions, which to the naked eye seem to consist of the raspings of wood and plants, which the termites destroy, but are found by the microscope to be chiefly composed of the gums or inspissated juices of plants, thrown together in little masses, some of which are finer than others, and resemble the sugar about preserved fruits; others are like drops of gum. The magazines are intermixed with the nurseries, buildings totally different from the rest of the apartments, being composed entirely of wooden materials, seemingly joined together with gums. They are called nurseries because they are invariably occupied by the eggs and young ones, which appear at first in the shape of labourers, but as white as snow. These buildings are exceedingly compact, and divided into many very small irregularshaped chambers, placed all round the royal apartments, and as near as possible to them. When the nest is in the infant state, the nurseries are close to the royal chamber; but as in process of time the queen increases in size, it is necessary to enlarge the chamber for her accommodation; and as she then lays a greater number of eggs, and requires a more numerous train of attendants, so it is necessary to enlarge and increase the number of the adjacent apartments; for which purpose, the small nurseries which are first built, are taken to pieces, rebuilt a little further off, a size larger, and the number of them increased at the same time. Thus they continually enlarge their apartments, pull down, repair, or rebuild, according to their wants, with a degree of sagacity, regularity, and foresight, not even imitated by any other kind of animals or insects. The nurseries are inclosed in chambers of clay, like those which contain the provisions, but much more extensive. In the early state of the nest they are not larger than an hazel nut, but in great hills are often as large as a childs head of a year old. The royal chamber is situated nearly on a level with the surface of the ground, at an equal distance from all the sides of the building, and directly under the apex of the hill. It is, on all sides, both above and below, surrounded by what may be called the royal apartments, which have only labourers and soldiers in them, and can be intended for no other purpose than for these to wait in, either to guard or serve their common father and mother, on whose safety depends the happiness, and, according to the account of the negroes, even the existence of the whole community. These apartments form an intricate labyrinth, which extends a foot or more in diameter from the royal chamber on every side. Here the nurseries and magazines of provisions begin, and being separated by small empty chambers and galleries, which go round them, or communicate from one to the other, are continued on all sides to the outward shell, and reach up within it twothirds or threefourths of its height, having an open area in the middle under the dome, resembling the nave of an old cathedral. This area is surrounded by large gothic arches, which are sometimes two or three feet high next the front of the area, but diminish very rapidly as they recede from thence, like the arches of aisles in perspective, and are soon lost among the innumerable chambers and nurseries behind them. All these chambers, and the passages leading to and from them, being arched, contribute to support one another; and while the interior large arches prevent their falling into the center, and keep the area open, the exterior building supports them on the outside. The interior building, or assemblage of nurseries, chambers, c. has a flattish top or roof without any perforation; by this contrivance, if any water should penetrate the external dome, the apartments below are preserved from injury. It is never exactly flat and uniform, because they are always adding to it by building more chambers and nurseries: so that the divisions or columns between the future arched apartments resemble the pinnacles upon the fronts of some old buildings, and demand particular notice, as affording one proof that for the most part the insects project their arches, and do not make them by excavation. The area is likewise waterproof, and contrived so as to let the water off, if it should get in and run over, by some short way, into the subterraneous passages, which run under the lowest apartments in the hill in various directions, and are of an astonishing size, being wider than the bore of a great cannon. There is an account of one that was measured, which was perfectly cylindrical, and thirteen inches in diameter. These subterraneous passages or galleries are lined very thick with the same kind of clay of which the hill is composed, and ascend the inside of the outward shell in a spiral manner; winding round the whole building up to the top, they intersect each other at different heights, opening either immediately into the dome in various places, and into the interior building, the new turrets, c. or communicating thereto by other galleries of different bores or diameters, either circular or oval. From every part of these large galleries are various small pipes or galleries, leading to different parts of the building; under ground there are a great many which lead downward, by sloping descents three and four feet perpendicular among the gravel, from whence the labouring termites cull the finer parts, which being worked up in their mouths to the consistence of mortar, becomes that solid clay or stone, of which their hills and all their buildings, except the nurseries, are composed. Other galleries again ascend and lead out horizontally on every side, and are carried under ground near to the surface, a vast distance. There is a kind of necessity for the galleries under the hills being thus large, as they are the great thoroughfares for all the labourers and soldiers going forth or returning upon any business whatever, whether fetching clay, wood, water, or provisions; and they are certainly well calculated for the purposes to which they are applied, by the spiral slope which is given them. Those species which build either the roofed turrets, or the nests in the trees, seem in most instances to have a strong resemblance to the preceding, both in their form and conomy, going through the same changes from the egg to the winged state. The queens also increase to a great size when compared with the labourers, but very short of those queens before described. The largest are from about an inch to an inch and an half long, and not much thicker than a common quill. There is the same kind of peristaltic motion in the abdomen, but in a much smaller degree; and as the animal is incapable of moving from her place, the eggs, no doubt are carried to the different cells by the labourers, and reared with a care similar to that which is practised in the larger nests. It is remarkable of all these different species, that the working and the fighting insects never expose themselves to the open air, but either travel under ground, or within such trees and substances as they destroy; except, indeed, when they cannot proceed by their latent passages, and find it convenient or necessary to search for plunder above ground: in that case they make pipes of that material with which they build their nests. The larger sort use the red clay; the turret builders use the black clay; and those which build in the trees employ the same ligneous substance of which their nests are composed. The termites, except their heads, are exceedingly soft, and covered with a very thin and delicate skin; being blind, they are no match on open ground for the ants, who can see, and are all of them covered with a strong horny shell not easily pierced, and are of dispositions bold, active, and rapacious. Whenever the termites are dislodged from their covered ways, the various species of formic or ants, who probably are as numerous above ground, as the latter are in their subterraneous passages, instantly seize and drag them away to their nests, to feed the young brood. The termites are, therefore, exceedingly solicitous about the preserving their covered ways in good repair; and if you demolish one of them for a few inches in length, it is wonderful how soon they rebuild it. At first in their hurry they get into the open part an inch or two, but stop so suddenly, that it is very apparent they are surprized; for, though some run straight on, and get under the arch as speedily as possible in the further part, most of them run as fast back, and very few will venture through that part of the track which is left uncovered. In a few minutes you will perceive them rebuilding the arch, and by the next morning they will have restored their gallery for three or four yards in length, if so much has been ruined; and upon opening it again, will be found as numerous as ever under it, passing both ways. If you continue to destroy it several times, they will at length seem to give up the point, and build another in a different direction; but, if the old one should lead to some favourite plunder, in a few days will rebuild it again, and, unless you destroy their nest, never totally abandon their, gallery. OF THE HABITATIONS OF CATERPILLARS. Though the view which has already been given of the various proceedings of insects in forming their habitations, has extended to some length, I cannot with propriety omit noticing the wonderful art and industry which is manifested in these respects by the caterpillar; and more particularly so, as from the larva state the foundation of all our present knowledge of the natural history of insects has been obtained. Some species of caterpillars form a kind of hammock, in which they eat and go through their various changes; while others erect a silken tent, under which they live until they have consumed the surrounding herbs. They then leave their abodes, and pitch their tents in a more fruitful spot. Many associate together all their lives; these proceed from the same moth, who deposited her eggs near each other, or rather laid them in a heap, forming as it were a kind of nest. They are generally hatched on the same day, and, living together, constitute a new species of republic, in which all are brethren. They often amount to near six hundred in a family, though they are frequently to be found with only about two hundred. Of these social caterpillars there are some species which not only continue with the society while they are in a larva state, but even place their pup close together. There are other kinds who associate only for a short period. Among the vast variety of insects which inhabit the oak, there is a species of caterpillar which live separate till they arrive at a certain age; they then assemble together, and do not quit each other till they attain their perfect state. As the number thus assembled is considerable, the nest is also very large. They remain indoors during the day, not leaving their habitation till sunset. When they go out, one of the body precedes the rest as a chief, whom they regularly follow; when the leader stops, the rest do the same, and wait till it goes on again, before they recommence their march. The first file generally consists of a single caterpillar, which is succeeded by a double file; these, by three in a row, which are then followed by files of five, and so on. They keep exceeding close to each other, not leaving any interval either between the ranks, or those in each rank; all of them following their captain in every direction, whether straight or crooked. After they have taken their repast, which is done on the march, they return to their nest in the same order in which they set out. This mode is followed till they are full grown, when each forms a cone, in which it is changed into a chrysalis. M. Bonnet has shewn, that though these caterpillars proceed often very far from their nest, it is by no means difficult for them to get back again, because they spin over all the places in their rout. The first leads the way, the second follows spinning, the third spins after the first and second, and so on with the rest. All these threads form by degrees a small shining track, a little path; and all these paths meet at the nest. To be fully convinced of the use of these threads, let any one but break the continuation of them in some particular part, and he will see the little caterpillars turn back, as if they were at a loss, till one more daring than the rest restores the communication by spinning new threads. The reader who is desirous of a fuller information concerning the habits of these, as well as many other insects, must be referred to the laborious and interesting memoirs of Reaumur. Happy if he should, like De Geer, be induced thereby to follow the steps of so great a master; he will derive from thence a continual source of new pleasures and increasing delights; and the more he extends the boundaries of his observations, the more he will be convinced that INFINITY is, as it were, impressed on all the works of the CREATOR. Different species of caterpillars are often to be found in great numbers on the same tree or plant; but then as they seem to have no connection with each other, and the actions of the one have no influence on the rest, they may be considered as solitary; but there are others who seem still more independent of each other, and greater friends to solitude, constructing a lodging formed of leaves tied together with considerable ingenuity, in which they live as in a hermitage. The operation by which these tie the leaves together, is far surpassed by another kind, who fold and bend one part of the leaf till it meets the other. These are again exceeded by those who roll the leaves which they inhabit. For this purpose the caterpillar chooses a part of a leaf which it finds in some degree bent; here it establishes its abode, and begins its work, moving the head with great velocity in a curved line, or rather vibrating it like a pendulum, the middle of the body being the center on which it moves. At each motion of the head a thread is spun, and fixed to that part to which the head seems to be applied. The threads are extended from the bent to the flat part of the leaf, being always adjusted both in length and strength to the nature of the leaf, and the curvature which is to be given to it. De Geer attending to the operations of a species of this kind of caterpillar, observed that at each new thread it spun, the edges of the leaf insensibly approached to each other, and were bent more and more, in proportion as the caterpillar spun new threads; when the last thread that was spun was tight, that which preceded it was loose and floating in the air. To effect this, the caterpillar, after it has fixed a thread to the two edges of the leaf, and before it spins another, draws it towards itself by the hooks of its feet, and by these means bends the leaf; it then spins another thread, to maintain the leaf in this position, which it again pulls towards itself, and repeats the operation, till it has bent the leaf in its whole direction. It now begins again, placing the threads further back upon the bent part of the leaf, and by proceeding in this manner, it is rolled up; when it has finished this business, it strengthens the work, by fastening the ends of the leaf together. The habitation thus formed is a kind of hollow cylinder, open to the light at both ends, the sides of it affording the insect food and protection, for within it the creature feeds in safety. In the same case they are also transformed; at the approach of the change the caterpillar lines the rolled leaf with silk, that the rough parts of it may not injure the chrysalis. A great number of the smaller larv require an artificial covering, to protect them from the open air. Among these, some inhabit the interior parts of leaves, making their way between the superior and inferior membranes, living upon the parenchymous parts of the leaf; and as they are exceedingly small, a leaf affords them a spacious habitation. If the distance between the membranes be not large enough for them, they enlarge the space by forming different folds in one of them, in which they can move with ease: from these circumstances they have been named by Reaumur miners of leaves. This illustrious author has described these larv, the flies into which they are changed, and all the Various methods made use of by them in performing this work. Some mine a large oval or circular space; others form a kind of gallery, which is sometimes straight, sometimes crooked. They only leave a thin membrane on the upper side of the leaf; but they leave the under side more substantial. One species of moth which proceeds from these larv is very small but exceedingly beautiful. The larv of the phryganea mostly live in little cases of their own building, which are formed of a variety of materials, that they train after them in the water wherever they go. These cases are generally cylindrical, and open at both ends; the inside is lined with silk spun by the larva, the outside formed of different substances, as bits of reed, stone, gravel, and some entirely of small shells, c. which they arrange and manage with singular dexterity: they never quit this case. When they walk, they put out the head, and a few of the first rings of the body, training the case after them. Having lived in the water for some time, they become inhabitants of the air. They assume the pupa form in the water, closing up the two ends of the case with bars of silk, by which it is secured from the attacks of its enemies; and at the same time there is a free passage for the water, which is still necessary for its existence. At a proper period the pupa forces its way through the case, and makes for the land, where its further change instantly commences, and is soon completed. We shall close these specimens of the industry of insects with an account of that which is displayed by the larv of the tine. The greatest part of the body of these little creatures, except the head and six fore feet, is covered over with a thin tender skin; the body of the insect is cylindrical, and lodged in a tube which is open at both ends. Soon after they are born, they begin to cover themselves, and are, therefore, seldom to be found but in these tubes or cases. They are in general so small, that it is not easy to distinguish the cases without a magnifier; but as the body lengthens, the case becomes too short; it is, therefore, part of its daily employ to lengthen it. For this purpose it extends the head beyond the tube, and having found the materials which answer its purpose, it tears it off, and brings it to the end of the tube, and fixes it there, repeating this manoeuvre till it has sufficiently lengthened it. After it has finished one end, it turns itself round within the case, and performs the same operation at the other. This does not terminate their labours, for the tube must also be increased in diameter, as it soon becomes too small for the body; the means they make use of to enlarge it, is precisely the same as we ourselves should adopt under similar circumstances. The insect slits the tube at the two opposite sides, at the same end, and inserts in the slit two pieces of the required size; it then performs the same at the other end. By these means they soon enlarge it sufficiently, without exposing themselves to the air during the operation. The outside of these cases is made of silk, hair, c. the inside is of silk only. Their covering always partakes of the colour of the cloth or tree, c. from whence it was taken; if it pass over a red piece, the colour will be red. When they are come to their perfect growth, they abandon the cloth, and seek for a proper place wherein they may pass from their present to a more perfect state. I cannot conclude this long chapter better than in the words of Mr. Stillingfleet. Many are apt to treat with contempt any man whom they see employed in poring over a moss, or examining an insect, from day to day, thinking that he spends his time and his life in unimportant and barren speculations; yet were the whole scene of nature laid open to our views, were we admitted to behold the connections and dependences of every thing on every other, and to trace the conomy of nature through the smaller, as well as greater parts of this globe, we might, perhaps, be obliged to own that we were mistaken; that the Supreme Architect had contrived his works in such a manner, that we cannot properly be said to be unconcerned in any one of them; and, therefore, that studies, which seem upon a slight view to be quite useless, may in the end appear of no small importance to mankind. Nay, were we only to look back into the history of arts and sciences, we must be convinced that we are apt to judge over hastily of things of this nature. We should there find many proofs that he who gave this instinctive curiosity to some of his creatures, gave it for good and great purposes, and that he rewards with useful discoveries all these minute researches. It is true, this does not always happen to the searcher, or his contemporaries, nor even sometimes to the immediate succeeding generation; but I am apt to think, that advantages of one kind or other always accrue to mankind from such pursuits; some men are born to observe and record what perhaps by itself is perfectly useless, but yet of great importance to another who follows and goes a step further, still as useless; to him another succeeds, and thus by degrees, till at last one of a superior genius comes, who laying all that has been done before this time together, brings on a new face of things, improves, adorns, exalts human society. All those speculations concerning lines and numbers, so ardently pursued, and so exquisitely conducted by the Grecians, what did they aim at? or what did they produce for ages? a little arithmetic, and the first elements of geometry, were all they had need of. This Plato asserts; and though, as being himself an able mathematician, and remarkably fond of these sciences, he recommends the study of them; yet he makes use of motives that have no relation to the common purposes of life. When Kepler, from a blind and strong impulse, merely to find analogies in nature, discovered that famous one between the distance of the several planets from the sun, and the periods in which they complete their revolutions, of what importance was it to him or the world? Again; when Galileo, pushed on by the same irresistible curiosity, found out the law by which bodies fall to the earth, did he, or could he foresee that any good would come from his ingenious theorems; or was any immediate use made of them? Yet had not the Greeks pushed their abstract speculations so far, had not Kepler and Galileo made the abovementioned discoveries, we never could have seen the greatest work that ever came from the hands of man, Sir Isaac Newtons Principia. Some obscure person, whose name is not so much as known, diverting himself idly, as a standerby would have thought, with trying experiments on a seemingly contemptible piece of stone, found out a guide for mariners on the ocean, and such a guide as no science, however subtil and sublime its speculations may be, however wonderful its conclusions, would ever have arrived at. It was mere curiosity that put Sir Thomas Millington upon examining the minute parts of flowers; but his discoveries have produced the most perfect and most useful system of botany that the world has yet seen. Other instances might be produced to prove, that bare curiosity in one age, is the source of the greatest utility in another; and what has frequently been said of chemists, may be applied to every other kind of vertuosi. They hunt, perhaps, after chimeras and impossibilities; they find something really valuable by the bye. We are but instruments under the Supreme Director, and do not so much as know, in many cases, what is of most importance for us to search after; but we may be sure of one thing, viz. that if we study and follow nature, whatever paths we are led into, we shall at last arrive at something valuable to ourselves and others, but of what kind we must be content to remain ignorant. CHAP. VI. A GENERAL VIEW OF THE INTERNAL PARTS OF INSECTS, AND MORE PARTICULARLY OF THE CATERPILLAR OF THE PHALNA COSSUSA DESCRIPTION OF SUNDRY MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS. The interior part of insects includes four principal viscera; the spinal marrow, the intestinal bag, the heart, and tracheal vessels. The spinal marrow, or principal trunk of the nerves of insects, is a whitish thread, extended the whole length from the head to the hindermost part, furnished at intervals with small knots or ganglions. From these knots proceed the nervous threads that are supposed to be the instruments of sensation and motion. On the medullary thread is placed the intestinal bag, which is equal to it in length; it is a long gut, in which are contained the oesophagus, the stomach, and intestines. Along the back, and parallel to the intestinal bag, runs a long thin vessel, in which may be perceived through the skin of the insect alternate contractions and dilatations; this part is supposed to perform the functions of the heart. The tracheal vessels of insects are very similar to those of plants; are of the same structure, colour, and elasticity, and are, like them, dispersed through the whole body. A clearer idea of these parts will be obtained by the short extract I shall give of M. Lyonets work; which, at the same time that it displays the wonderful organization of insects, shews how worthy it is of the attention of a rational being; and, though this description is confined to a particular species, it will be found to accord in general with a great number. Of all the modifications of which matter is susceptible, the most noble is undoubtedly the organization thereof. In the structure of animals, the Sovereign Wisdom is exhibited to our view in the most striking manner. The body of an animal is a little particular system more or less complicated, and which, like the system of the universe at large, is the result of the combination and connection of a multitude of different parts, which all conspire to produce one general effect, the manifestation of the principle which we term life. So wonderful are these combinations that we are incapable of comprehending, or even of admiring sufficiently the astonishing apparatus of springs, levers, counterweights, tubes of different diameters, c. which constitute these organical machines. The interior parts of the insect, the most despicable in appearance, would absorb all the powers of the most able anatomist. He would be lost in the labyrinth as soon as he attempted to explore all its windings. A truth that will be evident to every one who considers only the small portion here introduced of the anatomy of the caterpillar inhabiting the trunk of the willowtree. This caterpillar produces the phalna cossus, or goatmoth. M. Lyonet in his admirable work entitled, Traite Anatomique de la Chenille qui ronge le Bois de Saule, has given an ample and minute description of this insect. In the following concise abstract enough will appear to convince the reader of the utility of microscopic glasses, in displaying the wonders of the creation, and to afford additional proof that the attention of the Almighty is not confined merely to objects of magnitude. In a former edition of this work, I entered into a more minute detail of the several parts contained in the figures exhibited in plate XII. This account I have now omitted, as after all it could not convey a clear idea of the muscles alone, much less of the different parts of the caterpillar, without a reference to other plates of M. Lyonets work. I therefore concluded it would be better to let the figures speak for themselves, and then give a general description of the interior parts of the caterpillar; referring the reader for full particulars to the original. Figures 1 and 2 represent the muscles of the caterpillar, when it is opened at the belly. Fig. 3 and 4 exhibit a view of the muscles when it is opened at the back. Fig. 5 and 6, an anatomical delineation of the head; so complex is this organ, that in order to give an adequate idea of its structure, M. Lyonet has employed no less than twenty figures. Fig. 7 is an outline of the head more magnified than in the last figures. In order to obtain the views here exhibited, the muscles were freed as well from fat, as from the nerves and other vessels. The BODY of the caterpillar in the Plate Fig. 2 and 3, is divided into twelve parts, corresponding to its rings marked by the numbers 1 to 12; to the first number the word RING is affixed. Each of these rings is distinguished from that which follows, and that preceding it, by a kind of neck or small hollow part. By conceiving a line to pass through these necks, and forming boundaries to the rings, we acquire twelve more divisions, Fig. 1 and 4; these are also marked with the numbers 1 to 12; to the first the word DIVISION is annexed. The several parts exhibited in the divisions, Fig. 1, are the muscles; those in Fig. 2, under the word ring, are also muscles, which appear when those in Fig. 1 are removed, lying under them. The anatomical delineation of the muscles of the head, Fig. 5 and 6, should be considered as consisting of two figures, which join in the middle, being terminated by the superior and inferior lines. The head, as here represented, is magnified about threehundred times. H H are the two palpi: the truncated muscles d, belong to the lower lip, and form a part of those which give it motion: K, the two ganglions of the neck united: I I, the two silk vessels: L, the oesophagus: M, the two dissolving vessels: the Hebrew letters denote the continuation of the cephalic arteries: S T U W and X are the ten abductor muscles of the jaw: under e e and f f are seen four occipital muscles: a a, a nerve of the first pair, belonging to the ganglion of the neck; b, a branch of this nerve. Fig. 7 is an outline of the head magnified considerably more than in the last figure, exhibiting the nerves as seen from the under part. Excepting in two or three instances, only one nerve of each pair is shewn, as a greater number would have occasioned confusion. The nerves of the first ganglion of the neck are designed by capital letters; those of the ganglion a, are distinguished by Roman letters; those of the small ganglion, by Greek characters; and those of the frontal ganglion, except one, by numbers. A GENERAL VIEW OF THE INTERIOR PARTS OF THE CATERPILLAR. The MUSCLES have neither the exterior form, nor the colour of those of larger animals. In their natural state they are soft, and have the appearance of a jelly; they are of a greyish blue, and the silvercoloured appearance of the aerial or pulmonary vessels, which creep over and penetrate their substance, exhibits under the microscope a most beautiful spectacle. When the caterpillar has been soaked for some time in spirit of wine, they lose their elasticity and transparency, and become firm, opake, and white; the aerial vessels disappear. At first sight they might be taken for tendons, as they are of the same colour and possess almost the same lustre. They are generally flat, and of an equal size throughout; the middle seldom differs either in colour, substance, or size, from the extremities. The ends are fixed to the skin; the rest of the muscle is generally free and floating; several of them branch out considerably; the branches extend sometimes so far, that it is not always easy to discover whether they are distinct and separate muscles, or parts of another. They are of a moderate strength; those that have been soaked in spirit of wine, when examined by the microscope, will be found to be covered with a membrane which may be separated from them; they then appear to consist of several parallel bands, disposed according to the length of the muscle. These, when divided by the assistance of very fine needles, appear to be composed of still smaller bundles of fibres, in the same direction; which, when examined by a very deep magnifier, and in a favourable light, appear twisted like a small cord. The muscular fibres of the spider, which are much larger than those of the caterpillar, are found on examination to consist of two substances, one soft, and the other hard; the last is twisted round the former spirally, and thus gives to it the aforementioned cordlike appearance. If the muscles are separated by means of very fine needles, in a drop of some fluid, we find that they are not only composed of fibres, membranes, and aerial vessels, but also of nerves; and, from the drops of oil that may be seen floating on the fluid, that they are also furnished with many unctuous particles. The muscles in a caterpillar are very numerous, exceeding by much those of the human body; the reader may form some idea of their number by inspecting Fig. 1 2 3 and 4 of Plate XII. They occupy the greatest part of the head; there is an amazing number at the oesophagus, the intestines, c. the skin is as it were lined by different beds of them, placed one under the other, and ranged with very great symmetry. The number of muscles that our observer has been able to distinguish is truly astonishing; he found 228 in the head, 1647 in the body, and 2066 in the intestinal tube, making in all 3941! The SPINAL MARROW, and the brain of the caterpillar, if it can be said to have any, seem to have very little relation to those of man; in the last, the brain is inclosed in a bony cavity; it occupies the greatest part of the head, and is anfractuose, and divided into lobes. There is nothing similar to this in the caterpillar; we find indeed in the head of that which we are describing, a part which seems to answer the purpose of the brain, because the nerves that are disseminated through the head are derived from it; but then this part is unprotected, and so small, that it does not occupy onefifth part of the head; the surface is smooth, and has neither lobes nor anfractuousness; and if we must call this a brain, the caterpillar may be said to have thirteen, as there are twelve more such parts following each other in a line; they are nearly of the same size with that in the head, and of the same substance, and it is from them that the nerves are distributed through the whole body. Lest the idea of thirteen brains might be disagreeable to his readers, Lyonet has called these parts ganglions. The spinal marrow in the human species descends down the back, inclosed in a bony case; is large with respect to its length, and not divided into branches, diminishing in thickness in proportion as it is removed further from the brain. In the caterpillar, the spinal marrow goes along the belly, is not inclosed in any tube, is very small, forks out at intervals, and is nearly of the same thickness throughout, except at the ganglions. For a description of the numerous vessels, and curious texture of these parts, reference must be had to the original work of Lyonet. The substance of the spinal marrow, and of the ganglions, is not near so tender and easily separated as in man; it has a very great degree of tenacity, and does not break without considerable tension. The substance of the ganglions differs from that of the spinal marrow, as no vessels can be discovered in the latter, whereas the former are full of very delicate ones. The patient anatomist of the caterpillar has counted fortyfive pair of nerves, and two single ones; so that there are ninetytwo principal nerves, whose ramifications are innumerable. The TRACHEAL ARTERIES of the caterpillar are two large aerial elastic vessels, which with their numerous ramifications may be pressed close together, and drawn out considerably, but return immediately to their usual size when the tension ceases; they creep under the skin close to the spiracula, one at the right side of the insect, the other at the left, each of them communicating with the air, by means of nine spiracula; they are nearly as long as the body, beginning at the first spiraculum, and going a little farther than the last, terminating in some branches which extend to the extremities of the body. Round about each spiraculum the tracheal artery pushes forth a great number of branches, which are again divided into smaller ones; these further subdivide, and spread through the whole body of the caterpillar. This vessel and its principal branches are composed of three coats, which may be separated one from the other. The exterior covering is a thick membrane, furnished with a great number of fibres, which describe a vast variety of circles round it, communicating with each other by numerous shoots. The second is very thin and transparent; no particular vessel is distinguished in it. The third is composed of scaly threads, which are generally turned in a spiral form, and come so near each other, as scarce to leave any interval; these threads are curiously united with the membrane which occupies the intervals, and form a tube which is always open, notwithstanding the flexure of the vessel. There are also many other peculiarities in its structure, which cannot be well explained without more plates. The principal tracheal vessels branch out into 236 smaller ones, from which there spring 1326 different ramifications. The part of the caterpillar which naturalists call the HEART, without being certain that it performs the functions thereof, is of a nature very different from that of larger animals. It is almost as long as the caterpillar itself, lies immediately under the skin at the top of the back, entering into the head, and terminating near the mouth. It is large and spacious towards the last rings of the body, and diminishes very much as it approaches the head, from the fourth to the twelfth division; it has on both sides, at each division, an appendage, which partly covers the muscles of the back; but, growing narrower as it approaches the lateral line, forms a number of irregular lozengeshaped bodies. This muscular tube has been called the heart of the caterpillar; first, because it is generally filled with a kind of lymph, which has been supposed to be the blood of the caterpillar; secondly, because in all caterpillars, whose skin is in some degree transparent, continual, regular, and alternate dilatations and contractions may be perceived along the superior line, beginning at the eleventh ring, and going on from ring to ring to the fourth, whence this vessel has been considered as a file of hearts; but still this viscera seems to have very little relation to the heart of larger animals; we find no vessel opening into it, to answer to the aorta, vena cava, c. c. Near the eighth division are two white oblong masses, that join the tube of the heart; they have been called reniform bodies, because they are something similar to a kidney in their shape. The CORPUS CRASSUM is, with respect to volume, the most considerable part of the whole caterpillar; it is the first and only substance that is seen on opening it, forming a kind of sheath, which envelopes and covers all the entrails, and introducing itself into the head, enters all the muscles of the body, filling the greatest part of the empty spaces in the caterpillar. It is of a milkwhite colour. In its configuration it is very similar to the human brain. When the different masses of the corpus crassum which covers the entrails are removed, the largest parts are the oesophagus, the ventricle, and the large intestines. The OESOPHAGUS descends from the bottom of the mouth to about the fourth division. The anterior part which is in the head is fleshy, narrow, and fixed by different muscles to the crustaceous parts thereof; the lower part which passes into the body is wider, and forms a kind of membranaceous bag, which is covered with very small muscles; near the stomach it is again narrower, and is as it were bridled by a strong nerve, which is fixed to it at distant intervals. The VENTRICLE begins a little above the fourth division, where the oesophagus finishes, and terminates at the tenth division; it is about seven times longer than it is broad; the anterior part, which is the broadest, is generally folded. The folds diminish with the bulk, in proportion as it approaches the intestines. An assemblage of nerves cover the surface, it is surrounded by a number of aerial vessels, and opens into a tube, which Lyonet calls the large intestine. There are three of these large tubes or INTESTINES, each of which differs from the other so much, both in structure and character as to require a particular name to distinguish them; though this is not the place to enumerate these characteristic differences. As most caterpillars are endued with a power or faculty of spinning, they are provided with two vessels where the substance is prepared, which, when drawn out, and extended in the air, becomes a silken thread; these two vessels are termed the silkvessels or tubes; in the caterpillar of the cossus, they are often above three inches long, and are distinguished into three parts, the anterior, the intermediate, and posterior. It has also two other vessels, which are supposed to prepare and contain the liquor by which it dissolves the wood on which it feeds. Thus have we endeavoured to give the reader some idea of the wonderful organization of this apparently imperfect animal. Assuredly the fourthousand100 muscles employed in the construction of the caterpillar of the cossus cannot be considered without the deepest astonishment: their admirable coordination and junction with other parts equally numerous, yet all harmonizing and acting together as if they were essentially one, naturally lead the mind to consider the nature and perfection of creation, and to perceive that it is an exhibition of the highest wisdom; and that this wisdom, which in the minutest things gives evidence of such an immense attention to order and use, has, no doubt, framed the whole for some great purpose; but what that purpose is, exceeds the present limits of the human understanding to discover. 100 Lyonet sur la Chenille de Saule, p. 584. A DESCRIPTION OF SUNDRY MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS, EXHIBITED IN SEVERAL PLATES OF THIS WORK. OF THE LEPAS ANATIFERA OR BARNACLE.101 Plate XIII. Fig. 1 and 2. This is a tender and brittle shellfish of a very peculiar species; its length is about an inch, and its diameter about three quarters of an inch. The shell is not composed of two pieces or valves, as in others, but of five; two of these are larger than the rest, to which are affixed two smaller ones; the fifth piece is long, slender, and crooked, running down lengthways, and covering the joinings of the other pieces. The shell part is of a pale red, variegated with white; it adheres to a neck or pedicle of an inch long, and about a fifth of an inch in diameter; by which means it affixes itself to old wood, to stones, to seaplants, or any other solid substance that lies under water. It can shorten or extend this neck at pleasure, which resembles a small gut, and is usually full of a glareous liquor; it is composed of two membranes, an external one, hard and brown, an internal one, soft and of an orange colour. The large portions of the shell open and shut in the manner of the bivalves; the others, being moveable by means of their membranaceous attachments, give way to the opening of these, and to the motions of the body of the fish in any direction. It is furnished with a cluster of filaments or tentacida, placed in a row on each side, usually twelve, sometimes fourteen in number. They are a kind of arms appropriated for catching its prey, and therefore placed so as to surround the mouth of the animal, which is situated between them, and consequently easily receives what they thrust towards it. By the motion of these arms, which may be exerted in such a manner as to play either within or without the cavity of the shell, it forms a current of water, which brings with it the prey it feeds upon. Fig. 1 represents two of these arms as magnified by the microscope; Fig. 2, the natural size of those from which these drawings were made. Each arm consists of several joints, and each joint is furnished on the concave side of the arm with a brush of fibrill or long hairs. The arms, when viewed in the microscope, seem rather opake; but they maybe rendered transparent, and form a most beautiful object, by extracting out of the interior cavity a bundle of longitudinal fibres, which runs the whole length of the arm. Mr. Needham102 thinks the motion and use of these arms illustrates the nature of that rotatory motion which some writers have thought they discovered in the wheel animal. 101 This animal is classed by Linnus among the Vermes Testace. Its generic character is: Animal, resembling a triton; Shell, consisting of several unequal valves; affixed by its base. Specific character: Pedunculated Barnacle, with compressed shell consisting of five valves. Syst. Nat. p. 1107, 1109. EDIT. 102 Needhams Microscopical Observations. In the midst of the arms is a hollow trunk, consisting of a jointed fibrous or hairy tube, which incloses a long round tongue or proboscis, that the animal can push occasionally out of the tube or sheath, and retract at pleasure. The mouth of this animal is singular in its kind, consisting of six lamin, which go off with a bend, indented like a saw on the convex edge, and by their circular disposition are so ranged, that the teeth in the alternate elevation and depression of each plate, act against whatever intervenes between them. The plates are placed together in such a manner, that to the naked eye they form an aperture not much unlike the mouth of a contracted purse. The western isles of Scotland, and some other parts of the British dominions, are abundantly stored, at certain times of the year, with a bird of the goose kind, commonly known in those places by the name of the brent goose or barnacle. These birds rarely breed with us, but seek, for their sitting season, islands less frequented than those where we find them in common. The seeing the birds so frequent, and yet never finding any of their nests, induced ignorant people to believe they never had any, and that they were not bred like other birds. About the very shores where these birds are most common, the lepas anatifera is also found in great abundance. The fishermen, who observed vast quantities of these shells affixed to rotten wood, or dead trees that were floating in the water, or lodged by it on the shore, were soon led to imagine that the fibrous substances that hung out of them resembled feathers, and persuaded themselves that the geese, whose origin they could before by no means make out, were bred from them, instead of being hatched, like other birds, from eggs.103 It was afterwards affirmed, that the shells themselves originally grew on the trees, in the manner of their fruit; and that the young bird, having in the shell obtained its plumage, dropt from thence into the water. From this arose the opinion that the barnacle or brent goose was the produce of a tree.104 103 Hills Natural History of Animals. 104 The absurd idea, that the brent goose or barnacle derived its origin from this shell, was not confined to the illiterate; men of science, incautiously confiding in the bold assertions of the ignorant, appear to have given full credit to this truly curious hypothesis, and disseminated the knowledge of it in their writings. Even Gerard, the author of the Herbal, caught the infection: so confident was he of the fact, that he invited the credulous to apply to him for full satisfaction; his words are, For the truth hereof, if any do doubt, may it please them to repaire unto me, and I shall satisfie them by the testimonie of good witnesses. See his Herbal, page 1587. Barbut says, This fabulous account originated from the seafowls, when ready to lay their eggs, depositing them on the marine plants; and, pecking sometimes these anatiferous shells, oblige the fish to come out, which having devoured, they lay eggs in their place. The young when hatched break through their prison, and fly away. Genera Vermium, Pars ii. page 13. EDIT. OF THE LEUCOPSIS DORSIGERA. Plate XVII. Fig. 1, 2, and 3. This very beautiful and singular insect was first pointed out to me by T. Marsham, Esq. Sec. L. S. who had seen it in the cabinet of insects belonging to the Queen, in the royal observatory at Richmond. Her Majesty was pleased to permit me to have the drawing taken from it, from which this plate was engraved. When Mr. Marsham first saw it at Richmond, he considered it as a nondescript insect, and an unique in this country. But he has since found that it is mentioned by Fabricius, in his Systema Entomologi, as a new genus under the name of leucospis dorsigera. There is one of the insects in the cabinet of the celebrated Linnus, now in the possession of J. E. Smith, M. D. F. R. S.  Pr. L. S. Sulz, and other writers, have also described it. It appears at first sight like a wasp, to which genus the folded wings would have given it a place, had not the remarkable sting or tube on the back removed it from thence. It is probably a species between, and uniting the sphex and wasp, in some degree partaking of the characters of both. The antenn are black and cylindrical, increasing in thickness towards the extremity; the joint nearest the head is yellow, the head is black, the thorax is also black, encompassed round with a yellow line, and furnished with a cross one of the same colour near the head. The scutellum is yellow, the abdomen black, with two yellow bands, and a spot of the same colour on each side between the bands. A deep black polished groove extends down the back, from the thorax to the anus, into which the sting turns and is deposited, leaving the anus very circular; a yellow line runs on each side the sting. The anus and the whole body, when viewed with a shallow magnifier, appear punctuated; these points, when examined in the microscope, appear hexagonal, as in the plate; and in the center of each hexagon a small hair is to be seen; the feet are yellow, the hinder thighs very thick and dentated, forming also a groove for the next joint; they are yellow with black spots. This insect is found in Italy, Switzerland, France, and Germany. Fig. 1 shews it very much magnified; Fig. 2 is a side view of it less magnified; Fig. 3 is the object of its real size. OF THE LOBSTER INSECT. Plate XVIII. Fig. 1 and 6. This extraordinary little creature was found by my ingenious friend, Mr. John Adams, of Edmonton; he was at the New Inn, Waltham Abbey, where it was spied by some labouring men who were drinking their porter. The man who first perceived it, thought it was of an uncommon form; on a more minute inspection, it was supposed to be a louse with unusual long horns; others thought it was a mite. This produced a debate, which attracted the attention of my friend, who obtained the insect from them for further observation. Mr. Martin has given some account of it in the third volume of The Young Gentleman and Ladys Philosophy. Mr. Adams favoured me with the insect, that an accurate drawing might be taken from it, which I thought would be highly pleasing not only to the lovers of microscopic observations, but also to the entomologist. It appears to be quite a distinct species from the phalangium cancroides of Linnus, of which a good drawing has been given by Hooke, Rsel, Schffer, c.; it has also been described by Scopoli, Geoffroy, and other naturalists; not one, however, of these descriptions agrees with the animal under consideration. The abdomen of this is more extended, the claws are larger and much more obtuse; the body of the other being nearly orbicular, the claws slender, and finishing almost in a point, more transparent, and of a paler colour. It is very probable, that there are several species nearly similar. Mr. Marsham has two in his possession, one like the drawings of Reaumur, the other not to be distinguished from that which is represented in the plate, except that it wants the break or dent in the claws, so conspicuous in this. The latter he caught on a flower in Essex, the first week in August, firmly affixed by its claws to the thigh of a large fly, and could not disengage it from thence without considerable difficulty; to accomplish which, he was obliged to tear off the flys leg, and was much surprized to see the bold little creature spring forward full a quarter of an inch, and once more seize its prey, from which he again found it very difficult to disengage it. Fig. 1 represents the insect considerably magnified, Fig. 6 the natural size.105 105 According to Aldrovandus, this insect was not unknown to Aristotle, who mentions it as being found in books and paper. Wolphius, on the authority of Gesner, says that a few are to be met with in some parts of Switzerland. Scaliger also notices it, having found two of them in his books. It has been by various systematic writers referred to different genera; De Geer has instituted a new genus for it under the name of chelifer; Fabricius has remanded it to that of scorpio, to which perhaps it is more nearly allied than any other. Amongst the number of naturalists who have observed and described the insect, it appears rather extraordinary that none have met with one similar to that in the plate, in respect to the break in the claws. In a cabinet of curious microscopic objects which I purchased several years since, and which originally came from Holland, there were four of them in the most perfect condition. A botanical friend, Mr. Young, also favoured me with a living one which he found among some plants collected by him in one of his excursions; but, as his box contained a variety of plants, and he did not discover the insect till his return, it was impossible to ascertain the particular one on which it was taken. All these resembled the one here exhibited, excepting the claws being longer and more slender, and being deficient in the distinguishing characteristic; I have lately seen another, in which the two fangs that are shewn highly magnified in Plate 85 of the Naturalists Miscellany, are very apparent, being so large, as to exceed in diameter the thickest part of the claws. My respectable friend, Matthew Yatman, Esq. informs me, that some years since one was found on a bottle of wine packed in sawdust, at the house in which he then resided in Percy street; on putting the point of a pin towards it to remove it from the bottle, it ran backward, put itself into an attitude of defence, and opened its claws as meditating vengeance. In the same cellar one had many years previous been discovered, sufficiently large to admit its being fastened to a card with thread by a young gentleman, being at least four times the usual size. Rsel says it dwells among paper, in old books and their bindings, in chests of drawers, and in the crevices of old buildings. In order to discover whether the insect possessed a sting, he often by various means endeavoured to irritate it; but it never shewed the smallest inclination to defend itself, on the contrary, it always endeavoured to avoid a contest; if so, it evidently appears that those few met with in this country are of a more bold and warlike disposition. Seba asserts that these insects resemble the large scorpions, the tail excepted, which is small, and usually concealed by being drawn close to the under part of the abdomen; but in this respect he must probably have been mistaken, as it does not appear that this circumstance has been noticed by any other person. EDIT. OF THE THRIPS PHYSAPUS. Plate XVIII. Fig. 3, 4, and 5. The insect, which is represented very considerably magnified at Fig. 3, is of the hemiptera class. It was first described and figured by De Geer in the Swedish Transactions for 1744, under the name of physapus ater, alis albis; Linnus afterwards introduced it in a subsequent edition of the Systema Natur distinguished by the name thrips physapus. These insects live upon plants, and particularly in flowers. The one figured here is the black thrips, with white wings; the antenn have six articulations; the body is black; the wings whitish, long, and hairy; the head small, with two large reticular eyes. The antenn are of an equal size throughout, and divided into six oval pieces which are articulated together. The extremities of the feet are furnished with a membranaceous and flexible bladder, which it can throw out and draw in at pleasure. It places and presses this bladder against the substances on which it is walking, and seems to fix itself thereby to them; the bladder sometimes appears concave towards the bottom, the concavity increasing or diminishing in proportion to the degree of pressure. They have four wings, two upper and two under ones; these last are with great difficulty perceived, they are fixed to the upper part of the breast, lying horizontally; both of them are rather pointed towards the edges, and have a strong nerve running round them, which is set with a fringe of fibrill, tufted at the extremity. The wings are represented by themselves at Fig. 4; the insect of the real size at Fig. 5. They are to be found in great plenty in the spring and summer, in the flowers of the dandelion, and various other plants. OF THE SKIN OF THE LUMP SUCKER. Plate XVIII. Fig. 2 and 7. For a full description of this singular fish, I must refer the reader to Pennants British Zoology, vol. iii. p. 117. The Linnean name is cyclopterus lumpus. Fig. 2 is a piece of the skin highly magnified: there are no scales on the body, but a great number of tubercles, which are here exhibited. Fig. 7 is the natural size of the object. These fishes being extremely fat, renders them an agreeable diet to the natives of Greenland, in which seas they abound in the months of April and May; they also resort in multitudes during spring to the coast of Sutherland, near the Ord of Caithness in North Britain, where the seals prey greatly upon them, leaving the skins; numbers of which thus emptied float at that season ashore. When a good specimen is procured, it forms a most beautiful object for the opake microscope. OF THE CIMEX STRIATUS. Plate XX. Fig. 1 and A. This is a beautiful insect of the hemiptera class, or that kind where the elytra are only in part crustaceous, and which do not form a longitudinal suture down the back, but fold over about onethird of their length toward the bottom, where it is also partly transparent. It is of the genus cimex, and called striatus by Linnus. Its colours are bright and elegantly disposed: the head, proboscis, and thorax are black. The thorax is ornamented with yellow spots, the middle one large, and occupying almost onethird of the posterior part; the other two are on each side, and triangular. The scutellum has two yellow oblong spots, pointed at each end; the ground of the elytra is a bright yellow, spotted and striped with black. The nerves are yellow, and there is a brilliant triangular spot of orange, which unites the crustaceous and membranaceous parts; the latter is brown and clouded. The feet are of a fine red, and the rings of the abdomen are black, edged with white. This pretty insect is to be found in June, upon the elmtree. It is represented at A of the natural size. OF THE CHRYSOMELA ASPARAGI. Plate XX. Fig. 2 and B. A very common, though elegant insect of the coleoptera class, is represented at Fig. 2, as seen in the lucernal microscope, and of its natural size at B; it is called by Linnus chrysomela asparagi, from the larva feeding on the leaves of that plant. Its shape is oblong, the antenn black, composed of many joints nearly oval. The head is of a bright, but deep blue; the thorax red and cylindrical; the elytra blue, with a yellow margin, and three spots of the same colour on each, one at the base of an oblong form, and two united with the margin; the legs are black, but the under side of the belly is of the same blue colour with the elytra and head. This little animal, when viewed by the naked eye, scarcely appears to deserve any notice; but when examined by the microscope, is one of the most pleasing opake objects we have. It is found in June, on the asparagus after it has run to seed. De Geer says, that it is very scarce in Sweden. OF THE MELOE MONOCEROS. Plate XX. Fig. 3 and C. The insect which comes at present under our inspection is particularly adapted to shew the advantages of the microscope, which alone will discover the peculiarities of its figure; this is so remarkable, that entomologists appear undetermined as to its genus. Geoffroy formed a new one for it, under the title of notoxus, in which he has been followed by Fabricius; even Linnus himself could not determine at first where to place it, for in the Fauna Suecica he makes it an attelabus, but in the last edition of the Systema Natur he has fixed it as a meloe, calling it the meloe monoceros; but still he adds, genus difficile terminatur forte huic proximum. Both Geoffroy and Schffer have given figures of it, but as they had not that kind of microscope which would assist them, their figures are imperfect. The head is black, and appears to be hid or buried under the thorax, which projects forwards like a horn; the antenn are composed of many articulations, and with the feet are of a dingy yellow. The hinder part of the thorax is reddish, the fore part black. The elytra are yellow, with a black longitudinal line down the suture; there is a band of the same colour near the apex, and also a black point near the base; the whole animal is curiously covered with hair. Geoffroy says it is found on umbelliferous plants: the one here described was found in May; the natural size is seen at C. Plate XIX. Fig. 1 and 3, Represent two magnified views of the feet of the monoculus apus of Linnus. They are curiously contrived to assist the animal in swimming, and form very agreeable objects for the microscope. Fig. 2 and 4 are the same objects of the natural size. OF THE SCALES OF FISH. The outside covering or scales of fish afford an immense variety of beautiful objects for the microscope. They are formed in the most admirable manner, and arranged with inconceivable regularity and symmetry: some are long, others nearly round, others again square; varying in shape, not only in different species, but even considerably on the same fish; those which are taken from one part not being entirely similar to those which are taken from another. Leeuwenhoeck supposed each scale to consist of an infinity of scales laid one over the other; or, more simply, of an infinity of strata, of which those next to the body of the fish are the largest. These strata, when viewed with the microscope, exhibit specimens of wonderful mechanism and exquisite workmanship. In some scales we discover a prodigious number of concentric flutings, too fine, as well as too near each other, to be easily enumerated; they are probably formed by the edges of each stratum, denoting the limits thereof, and the different stages of the growth of the scale. These flutings are often traversed by others diverging from the center of the scale, and generally proceeding from thence in a straight line to the circumference. Plate X. Fig. 7, exhibits a scale from a species of the parrot fish of the WestIndies, considerably magnified. Fig. 8, the real size of the scale. Plate X. Fig. 9, is a magnified scale of the seaperch, which is found on the English coast. Fig. 10, the same scale of the natural size. Plate XIX. Fig. 7, a scale from the haddock, as seen in the microscope. Fig. 8, the same of the natural size. Plate XIX. Fig. 9, a scale from a species of perch from the WestIndies, magnified. Fig. 10, the scale of its real size. Plate XIX. Fig. 11, a scale from the solefish, delineated as it appears in the microscope; the pointed part is that which stands without the skin, as may be seen in Fig. 5, which represents a piece of the skin of a sole, as viewed by the opake microscope. Fig. 6 and 12, the same objects of their real size. CHAP. VII. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE HYDRA, OR FRESHWATER POLYPE. Having in the two preceding chapters given the reader such a general idea of the history and conomy of a great variety of those minute animated bodies, called insects, as I am inclined to hope has not only afforded him entertainment and instruction, but tended to excite an emulation for further researches; I shall endeavour to gratify so laudable a disposition, by introducing him to a class of beings whose conomy and singular properties equally engage the attention of the philosopher and the natural historian; a scene which opposes our general system of vitality, and which presents to the eye of the mind, as well as that of the body, a series of astonishing wonders. It is among the minuti of nature that we find her models most diversified, and displaying the marvellous fecundity of its powers. The polypes described in this chapter are freshwater insects, of the genus of hydra, of the order of zoophytes, and class of vermes. The body consists of a single tube, furnished at one end with long arms, by these it seizes small worms, and conveys them to its mouth. It has, according to our general notions, neither head, heart, stomach, nor intestines of any kind; and is without the distinction of sexes, yet extremely prolific. From the simplicity of its structure those of its conomy and functions are probably derived. When they are cut or divided into a number of pieces, the separated parts in a very little time become so many perfect and distinct animals; each piece having a power of producing a head, a tail, and the other organs necessary for its existence. They are generally known by the name of polype; but as this was thought by many to be improper, because that, strictly speaking, they have no feet, Linnus called the genus hydra, probably from their property of reproducing the parts which are cut off, a circumstance that naturally brings to mind the fabulous story of the Lernean hydra. Dr. Hill called them biota, on account of the strong principle of life with which every part is endued. Leeuwenhoeck, whose indefatigable industry in his researches after small insects permitted very few things to escape his notice, discovered these animals, and gave some account of them in the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1703. There is also in the same volume a letter from an anonymous hand on this subject. We had, however, no regular account of them, their various habits, their different species, or of their wonderful properties, till the year 1740, when they first engaged the attention of M. Trembley, to whose assiduity and observations we are indebted for the display of their nature and conomy. Previous to the successful experiments of this gentleman, Leibnitz and Boerhaave, as well as some of the ancient philosophers, reflecting on the various gradations in the scale of animated nature, had endeavoured to prove that there might be degrees of life between the animal and the plant, and that animals might be found which would propagate by slips, like plants. These conjectures were verified by Trembley, but not in consequence of any preconceived ideas in favour of such a supposition; on the contrary, it was only by repeated observations that he could destroy his own prejudices, and join these wonderful beings to the animal kingdom.106 106 A great part of the knowledge of the ancients consisted in an extensive variety of ingenious hypotheses, the result of intense study and application; and it need not excite surprize, if, amongst a number of suppositions, some of them have since been found conformable to truth. The moderns, animated by the example of the great Bacon, by an abundance of experiments frequently repeated, and the assistance of good instruments, have introduced unquestionable demonstration in the place of speculation; this renders the present philosophy very far superior to that of the ancients. Thus it is with respect to the subject now under consideration; many of the ancients conjectured that animated beings might exist possessed of the wonderful properties of the hydra; that some of them, however, were even witnesses of the fact, cannot well be disputed; though it may be fairly presumed, that their knowledge of this animal, comparatively with that we are now in possession of, was very circumscribed and imperfect. St. Augustine relates that one of his friends performed the experiment before him, of cutting a polype in two, and that immediately the two parts thus separated betook themselves to flight, moving with precipitation different ways. The original passage is too long to be here inserted, but may be found in his work De Quantitate Anim, c. 62, p. 431, col. 1. Aristotle, speaking of insects with many feet, expresses himself nearly in the same manner; without naming the particular creatures to which he alludes, he observes, that there are of these animals or insects, as well as of plants and trees, some that propagate themselves by shoots; and, as what were but the parts of a tree before, become thus distinct and separate trees; so, in cutting one of these animals, the pieces which before composed altogether but one animal, become suddenly so many distinct individuals. And he adds, that the soul in these insects is in effect but one, though multiplied in its powers, as it is in plants. Aristot. de Histor. Animal. tom. 1, lib. 4, cap. 7, pag. 824,  de Part. Animal. lib. 4, tom. 1, cap. 6, pag. 1029. c. This will suffice to shew that the ancients were not entirely unacquainted with the subject before us; though it does not derogate from the merit of Leeuwenhoeck, Trembley, and other ingenious naturalists, by whose assiduous and patient investigations we have obtained a more perfect knowledge of this astonishing class of animated beings. EDIT. Though natural history is so fruitful in extraordinary facts, it has hitherto produced none so singular as the various properties of the different species of the hydra. I shall endeavour, first, to trace the progress of this discovery, in which we shall see with what sage caution and accuracy Trembley, and other naturalists examined this wonderful phnomenon, and what accumulated evidence was judged necessary to establish the fact. We find M. Trembley writing in January, 1741, to M. Bonnet, that he did not know whether he should call the object which then engaged his attention, a plant or an animal. I have studied it, says he, ever since June last, and have found in it striking characteristics of both plant and animal. It is a little aquatic being. At first sight, every one imagines it to be a plant; but if it be a plant, it is sensitive and ambulant; if it be an animal, it may be propagated by slips or cuttings, like many plants. It was not till the month of March, in the same year, that he could satisfy himself as to their nature. When Reaumur saw, for the first time, two polypes formed from one that he had divided into two parts, he could hardly believe his eyes; and even after having repeated the operation an hundred times, and again examined it an hundred more, he says that the sight was not become familiar to him. The first account the Royal Society received of the surprizing properties of the hydra, was in a letter from M. Buffon, dated the 18th of July, 1741, to Martin Folkes, Esq. their president, acquainting them with the discovery of a small insect called a polypus, which is found sticking about the common duck weed, and which, being cut in two, puts forth from the upper part a tail, and from the lower end a head, so as to become two animals instead of one. If it be cut into three parts, the middlemost puts out from one end a head, and from the other a tail, so as to become three distinct animals, all living like the first, and performing the various offices of their species: which observations are, adds Buffon, well averred. There is no phnomenon in all natural history more astonishing than this, that man, at pleasure, should have a kind of creative power, and out of one life make two, each completely formed with all its apparatus and functions, its perceptions and powers of motion and selfpreservation; and as complete in all respects as that from which they derived their existence, and equally enjoying the humble gratifications of their nature.107 107 Goldsmiths History of the Earth and Animated Nature. Mr. Folkes, in confirmation of the foregoing article, communicated to the Society a letter from the Hon. W. Bentinck, Esq. at the Hague, dated September, describing the insects discovered by Trembley, adding, that he himself had seen them. In November, a letter was read from Dr. Gronovius, of Leyden, giving an account of a water insect not yet known to, or described by any author; after describing it, he adds, but what is more surprizing, if this animal is cut into five or six pieces, in a few hours there will be as many animals, exactly similar to their parent. The accounts of this animal were so extraordinary, that they were not credited until Professors Albinus and Musschenbroeck were provided with some specimens, and found all that had been related thereof to be exactly true. November 25, a letter from Cambridge was read to the Royal Society, in which the author endeavours to lessen, by reason, the prejudices which then combated the belief of these facts. Some of our friends, says the author, who are firmly attached to the general metaphysical notions they have formerly learned, reason strongly against the possibility of such a fact: but I have myself owned on other occasions, my distrust of the truth, or certainty at least, of some of those principles, and I shall make no scruple of acknowledging, that I have already seen so many strange things in nature, that I am become very diffident of all general assertions, and very cautious in affirming what may or may not possibly be. The most common operations both of the animal and vegetable world, are all in themselves astonishing, and nothing but daily experience and constant observation can make us see without amazement an animal bring forth another of the same kind, or a tree blossom and bear leaves and fruit. The same observation and experience make it also familiar to us, that, besides the first way of propagating vegetables from their respective fruit and seed, they are also propagated from cuttings, and every one knows that a twig of a willow particularly, cut off and only stuck into the ground, does presently take root and grow, and become as real and perfect a tree as the original one from which it was taken. Here then we find in the vegetable kingdom quite common, the very thing of which we have an example before us in the animal kingdom, in this newdiscovered insect. The best philosophers have long observed strong analogies between these two classes of beings; and the more they have penetrated into nature, the more they have extended this analogy: now in such a scale, who is the man that will be bold to say, just here animal life entirely ends, and here vegetable life begins? or, just so far, and no farther, one sort of operation goes; and just here another sort, quite different, takes its place? or again, who will venture to say, life in every animal is a thing absolutely different from that which we dignify by the same name in every vegetable? Thus does the author endeavour to persuade the prejudiced, and lead them to pay attention to the facts which were now laid open to their view, and which were further confirmed by a letter from M. Trembley, in January 1740; which letter was strengthened by an extract from the preface to the sixth volume of Reaumurs history of insects. In March, 1742, Mr. Folkes gave an account of them to the Royal Society, from observations made on several polypes which had been sent by M. Trembley from Holland to him. The insects now began to be known, and were soon found in England, and the experiments that had been made on them abroad were published by Mr. Folkes,108 my father,109 and Mr. Baker:110 conviction now became too strong for argument, and metaphysical objections gave way to facts. The animal is described in the following manner: HYDRA.111 Flos: os terminale, cinctum cirris setaceis. Stirps vaga, gelatinosa, uniflora, basi se affigens.112 108 Philosophical Transactions. 109 Micrographia Illustrata. 110 Natural History of the Polype. 111 The hydr or polypes have generally been denominated Insects: is there not a manifest impropriety in the application of this term to them? If we admit of the systematic arrangement of LINNUS, we find that he has divided the animal kingdom into six classes: 1. Mammalia. 2. Aves. 3. Amphibia. 4. Pisces. 5. Insecta; and 6. Vermes. Of the last or Vermes, the Zoophytes (from  , or animal plant) constitute the fifth order. He defines it as Animalia composita, efflorescentia more vegetabilium: amongst these he includes the various species of Vorticell and Hydr. The term animalcul, or small animals, is certainly not inapplicable to them, but they differ materially in the peculiar characteristics by which insects are distinguished, see page 179, and pages 215220. They do not undergo those transformations to which insects are subject, and which have been so fully described in the preceding part of this work: their figure, habits, and conomy are also very different. In short, they seem to be in every respect, except their minuteness, quite a distinct race of animated beings, as will be more fully exemplified in the following pages. EDIT. 112 Lin. Syst. Nat. p. 1320. This animal fixes itself by its base, it is gelatinous, linear, naked, can contract itself, and change its place. Its mouth, which is at one end, is surrounded by hair, like feelers. It sends forth its young ones from its sides, which drop off. 1. Hydra viridis, tentaculis subdenis brevioribus. Green polype, generally with about ten short arms; it is represented in Plate XXI. Fig. 5. 2. Hydra fusca, tentaculis suboctonis longissimis. This polype has very long arms, often eight in number; it is represented at Plate XXI. Fig. 7. The arms are several times longer than the body. 3. Hydra grisea, tentaculis subseptenis longioribus. This polype has also generally long arms, in number about seven; it is of a yellowish colour, small towards the bottom; it is represented at Plate XXI. Fig. 6. 4. Hydra pallens, tentaculis subsenis mediocribus. The arms of this polype are generally about six in number, and of a moderate length. 5. Hydra hydatula, tentaculis quaternis obsoletis corpore vesicario. Plate XXI. Fig. 1, 2, 3, 4. This polype has a vesicular body, and four obsolete arms; is found in the abdomen of sheep, swine, c. 6. Hydra stentorea, tentaculis ciliaribus corpore infundibuliformi. This polype has been called tunnelshaped; the mouth is surrounded with a row of hairs; it is represented at Plate XXII. Fig. 27 and 28. 7. Hydra socialis, mutica torosa rugosa. Bearded, thick, and wrinkled. Plate XXI. Fig. 11. OF THE HYDRA VIRIDIS, HYDRA FUSCA, AND HYDRA GRISEA. Plate XXI. and XXIII. These three species of the hydra having been those on which the greatest number of experiments have been made, and of which we have the best information, it is of these only I shall speak in the following account, unless it is particularly mentioned otherwise. There are few animals more difficult to describe than the hydra, as it has scarce any thing constant in its form, varying continually in its figure: they are often so beset with young, as to appear ramose and divaricated, the young ones constituting as it were a part of the parents body. Whoever has looked with care at the bottom of a wet shallow ditch, when the water is stagnant, and the sun has been powerful, may remember to have seen many little transparent lumps, of a jellylike appearance, about the size of a pea, and flatted on one side; the same appearances are also often to be seen on the under side of the leaves of those weeds or plants that grow on the surface of the water; these are the hydr gathered up into a quiescent state, and seemingly inanimate, because either undisturbed or not excited by the calls of appetite to action. They are generally fixed by one end to some solid substance, at the other end there is a large opening, round about which the arms are placed as so many rays round a center, which center is the mouth. They are slender and pellucid, formed of a tender kind of substance, in consistence something like the horns of a snail, and can contract the body into a very small compass, or extend it to a considerable length. They can do the same with the arms; with these they seize minute worms and various kinds of aquatic insects, bring them to the mouth, and swallow them. After the food is digested, and the nutritive parts which are employed in sustaining its life are separated from the rest, they reject the remainder by the mouth. The first polype which Trembley discovered was one of the hydra viridis, represented in Plate XXI. Fig. 5. These are generally of a fine green colour. The indications of spontaneous motion were first perceived in the arms of these little creatures; they can extend or contract, bend and wind them divers ways. Upon the slightest touch they contract themselves so much, as to appear little more than a grain of a green substance, the arms disappearing entirely. He soon after found the hydra grisea, Fig. 6, and saw it eat, swallow, and digest worms much larger than itself. This discovery was soon followed by that of the hydra fusca, Fig. 7. The most general attitudes of these hydr are those which are represented in Fig. 5 and 6 of the same plate. They fix the posterior extremity b against a plant or other substance, as e f; the body a b; and the arms a c, being extended in the water. There is a small difference in the attitudes of the three kinds which we are now describing. The bodies of the hydra viridis, Fig. 5, and of the hydra grisea, Fig. 6, diminish from the anterior to the posterior extremity by an almost insensible gradation. The hydra fusca does not diminish in the same gradual manner, but from the anterior extremity a, to the part d, which is often twothirds of the length of their body, it is nearly of an equal size; from this part it becomes abruptly smaller, and goes on from thence of a regular size to the end. The number of arms in these three kinds are at least six, and at most twelve or thirteen, though eighteen may sometimes be found on the hydra grisea. They can contract their bodies till they are not above onetenth of an inch in length; they can also stop at any intermediate degree, either of contraction or extension, from the greatest to the least. The species represented at Fig. 5, are generally about half an inch long when stretched out. Those exhibited at Fig. 6 and 7, are about threefourths of an inch, or one inch in length, though some are to be found at times about an inch and half long. The arms of the hydra viridis, Fig. 5, are seldom longer than their bodies; those of Fig. 6 are commonly one inch long, while those of Fig. 7 are generally about eight inches; whence Trembley has called it the longarmed polype. The bulk of the hydr decreases, in proportion as they extend themselves, and vice versa. They may be made to contract themselves, either by touching them, or agitating the water in which they are contained. They all contract themselves so much when, taken out of the water, as to appear only like a little lump of jelly. They can contract or extend their arms without extending or contracting the body, or the body, without making any alteration in the arms; or they can contract or dilate only some of the arms, independent of the rest: they can also bend their body and arms in all possible directions. Those represented at Fig. 7 let their arms in general hang down, making different turns and returns, often directing some of them back again to the top of the water. They can also dilate the body at different places, sometimes at one part, and then again at another; sometimes they are thick set with folds, which, if carelessly viewed, might be taken for rings. They have a progressive motion, which is performed by that power by which they stretch out, contract, and turn themselves every way. For suppose the hydra or polype, a b, Fig. 16, to be fixed by the tail b, having the body and the arms a extended in the water; in order to advance, it draws itself together, by bending itself so as to bring the head and arms down to the substance on which it is to move; to do this, it fixes the head or the arms as in Fig. 17; when these are well fixed, it loosens the tail, and draws it towards the head, as in Fig. 18, which it again loosens, and resting on the tail, stretches it out, as in Fig. 19. It is easy to see from this account, that their manner of walking is very analogous to that of various terrestrial and aquatic animals. They walk very slow, often stopping in the middle of a step, turning and winding their body and arms every way. Their step is sometimes very singular, as in the following instance: suppose the polype a b, Fig. 20, to be fixed by the tail b, the body and arms being extended in the water, it first bends the forepart towards the substance on which it is moving, and fixes it thereto, as at a, Fig. 21; it then loosens the lower end, and raises it up perpendicular, as in Fig. 22; now bending the body to the other side, it fixes the tail, as in Fig. 23; then loosening the anterior end, it rises up, as in Fig. 24. They descend at pleasure to the bottom of the water, and ascend again, either by the sides, or upon some aquatic plants; they often hang from the surface of the water, resting as it were upon the tail; or, at other times they are suspended by one arm from it. They walk also with ease upon the surface of the water. If the extremity of the tail b, Fig. 7, be examined with a magnifying glass, a small part of it will be found to be dry, and above the surface of the water, and as it were in a little concave space, of which the tail forms the bottom, so that it seems to be suspended on the surface of the water, on the same principle that a small pin or needle is made to swim. Hence, when a polype means to pass from the sides of the glass to the surface of the water, it has only to put that part out of the water by which it means to be supported, and give it time to dry, which it always does upon these occasions. They attach themselves so firmly by the tail to aquatic plants, stones, c. as not to be easily driven from the place where they have fixed themselves; they often further strengthen these attachments by means of one or two of their arms, which they throw out and fix to adjacent substances, as so many anchors. The mouth of the polype or hydra is situated at the forepart of the body, in the middle between the shooting forth of the arms. The mouth assumes different appearances, according to the different purposes of the insect; sometimes it is lengthened out, and forms a little conical nipple, as in Plate XXIII. A. Fig. 13; sometimes it appears truncated, as in Plate XXI. Fig. 8; at other times the interval between the arms appears closed, as in Plate XXIII. A. Fig. 2 and 12; or hollow, as in Fig. 11 of the same plate. If it be observed with a deep magnifier in either of the two last cases, a small aperture may be discovered. The mouth of the polype opens into the stomach, which is a kind of bag or gut that goes from head to tail; this may be perceived by the naked eye, when the animal is exposed to a strong light, or a candle placed on the opposite side to the eye; for the colour of the polype does not destroy the transparency thereof. The stomach will, however, be better seen, if the eye be assisted by a deep magnifier; one of them is represented as highly magnified in Plate XXI. Fig. 8. To be fully satisfied whether they were perforated throughout, Trembley cut one transversely into three parts; each piece immediately contracted itself, and became very short; being then placed in a shallow glass full of water, and viewed through the microscope, they were found to be visibly perforated. Their microscopic appearance is represented in Plate XXIII. A. Fig. 6, 7, 8; its mouth was at the anterior end a, Fig. 8, of one of these parts. The tail was at the end b of the third part, Fig. 6; as this piece was also perforated, it plainly appears that the tail of the hydra is open. The perforation, which is thus continued from one end to the other, is called the stomach, because it contains and digests the aliments. The skin which incloses the bag, and forms the stomach, is the skin of the polype itself; so that the animal may be said to consist of but one skin, disposed in the form of a tube or gut open at both ends. On opening the polype, no vessels are to be distinguished; and whatever be the nature of its organization, it must reside in the skin. The skin must be so far organized, as to perform all the operations necessary for the nutrition and growth of the animal, without considering those that are necessary for its various motions. Whatever are the means the Author of Nature has employed for these purposes, we are ignorant of them. If their skin be examined by a microscope, it appears like shagreen, or as if it were covered with little grains; these are more or less separated from each other, according to the degree in which the body is extended or contracted. If the lips of a polype be cut transversely, and placed so that the cut part of the skin may lie directly before the microscope, the skin throughout its whole thickness will be found to consist of an infinite number of these grains. To know whether the inside of the stomach was formed of similar grains, several of them have been laid open and examined by the microscope; the interior surface was then found to consist of an immense number of them, being as it were more shagreened than the exterior one, and less transparent. The grains are not strongly united to each other, but may be separated without much trouble. Plate XXIII. A. Fig. 10, represents a piece of skin thus laid open. To examine these particulars further, a piece of skin a, Fig. 9, was laid in a few drops of water, on a piece of glass before the microscope, and some of the grains were separated from it, as at b c d, by pressing them with the point of a pin; in endeavouring to open them, they spread themselves into all parts of the water, and at last remained in heaps, as at e and f. If a polype be carefully placed before the microscope, without wounding it, you will seldom be disappointed in seeing some of these grains detach themselves from the superficies thereof, and that even in the most healthy. But if the grains separate themselves in large quantities, it is the symptom of a very dangerous disorder; the surface of the polype thus attacked becomes more and more irregular, and is no longer well terminated and defined as before. The grains fall off on all sides, the body and arms contract and dilate, it becomes of a white shining colour, loses its form as at a, Fig. 4, and then dissolves into a heap of grains, as at b, Fig. 5. The progress of this disorder is most easily observed in the hydra viridis. A very attentive and accurate examination shews that the skin is formed of a kind of glareous substance, a species of gum, which fills up the intervals between the grains, in which they are lodged, and by which they are attached, though weakly, together. It has been already observed, that it is to these grains that it owes its shagreenlike appearance; it is from them also that it derives its colour; for, when they are separated from the polype, they are the same colour with it, whereas the glareous matter is without any distinguishing colour. The construction of the polype seems then to be confined to these glandular grains, to the viscous matter, and the invisible fibres which act upon the glareous substance. The structure of the arms of the polypes is very analogous to that of their body. When they are examined by the microscope, either in a contracted or dilated state, their surface is shagreened; if the arm be much contracted, it appears more so than the body; on the contrary, it appears less so in proportion as they are more extended; almost quite smooth when at their full extension; so that in the hydra viridis the appearance of the arms is continually varying, and these variations are more sensible towards the extremity of the arm than at its origin, as, in Plate XXI. Fig. 10; but more thinly scattered, or farther asunder, in the parts further on, as at Fig. 9. The hairs which are exhibited in this figure cannot be seen without a very deep magnifier, however they indicate a further degree of organization in this little animal. The extremity is often terminated by a knob. All animals of this kind have a remarkable attachment to turn towards the light, and this might naturally induce the inquirer to look for their eyes; but how carefully soever this search has been pursued, and however excellent the microscope with which every part has been examined, yet no appearance of this organ has been found. Notwithstanding this, they constantly turn themselves toward the light; so that if that part of the glass in which we placed them be turned from it, they will be found the next day to have removed themselves to the side that is next the light, and the dark side will be quite depopulated. OF THE FOOD OF THE HYDR, AND THEIR METHOD OF SEIZING AND SWALLOWING THEIR PREY. As the hydra fusca, Plate XXI. Fig. 7, has the longest arms, its manner of feeding, and the different manuvres it makes use of to seize and manage its prey, are more remarkable than those of the two other species; it will be, therefore, this kind only which will be principally spoken of under the present head. To obtain a proper view, it should be placed in a glass seven or eight inches deep. If the polype be fixed near the top of the glass, the arms for the most part hang down toward the bottom. This is a very convenient situation for feeding it, and observing its management of the food. The polypes are in general very voracious: an hungry one extends its arms as a fisherman his nets; it spreads them every way, so that they form a circle of considerable extent, every part of which is entirely within the reach of one of them. In this expanded posture it lies in expectation of its food; whatever comes within the verge of this circle is seized by one or other of its arms: the arms are then contracted till the prey is brought to the mouth, when it is soon devoured. While the arms are contracting and exerting themselves vigorously to counteract the efforts of the animal, which it has seized, to escape, they may be observed to swell like the muscles of the human body when they are in a state of exertion. Though in general all ideas are derived from the senses, there are certainly some that seem infused into us independently of the exertions of any sense. This may be confirmed by many instances of animal instinct; among others, it may be illustrated by the polype. Who taught it, when just separated from the parent stock, to expand its arms, that it might catch its prey? That its native element abounded with insects? or that these were its proper food? No sense that we are acquainted with could first give the information. The polype does not always wait for its prey, it feels for it, and in a manner follows it. It may be asked how can it perform this if destitute of vision? or do the glandular grains answer the purpose of eyes? Who can answer the question? what are our own eyes but glandular grains of a larger size? If this should be the case, our hydra, like the libellul and other insects, would realize, nay, exceed the fables of the ancients, being an Argus entirely composed of eyes. Be this as it may, they are certainly in possession of some sensation by which they are informed of the approach of their prey, and which renders them attentive to all that may confirm or destroy this perception. When the arms of a polype are extended within a glass, put a centipe or any kind of worm into it, see Plate XXIV. A. Fig. 1, and with the point of a pin push it towards one of the arms; as soon as it touches this it is seized; the worm or centipe endeavours by quick and strong efforts to disengage itself, often swimming and dragging the arm from one side of the glass to the other. This violent motion of the prey obliges the polype to contract strongly the arm; in doing which, it often twists it in the form of a corkscrew, as at o i, by which means it shortens it more rapidly. The struggles of the devoted animal soon bring it in contact with another arm; these contracting further, the little creature is presently engaged with all the arms, and by degrees conveyed to the mouth, against which it is held and subdued. When a polype has nothing to eat, its mouth is generally open, but so small, that it can scarce be perceived without the assistance of a magnifying glass; but as soon as the arms have conveyed the prey to the mouth, it opens itself wider, and this in proportion to the size of the animal that is to be devoured; the lips gradually dilate, and adjust themselves accurately to the figure of the prey. The greatest part of the animals on which the polype feeds, are to its mouth, what an apple the size of our heads would be to the mouth of a man. The worms or other minute animals which are seized by the polype, are not always brought to the mouth in the same situation; if they be presented to it by one of their extremities, it is not requisite that the polype should open its mouth considerably, and in effect it only opens it so wide, as precisely to give entrance to the worm, Fig. 5. If it be not too long for the stomach, it remains there extended; but if it be longer, the end which first enters is bent, so that when the worm is entirely swallowed, it may be seen lying folded in the stomach, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 12. If the middle, or any other part of the worm, be presented to the mouth of the polype, it seizes this part with the lips, extending them on both sides, and applying them against the worm, so that the mouth assumes the form of a boat, pointed at each end, Plate XXIV. A. Fig. 2; the polype gradually closes the two points of its boatlike lips, and by this motion and suction swallows the worm, Fig. 4. The polypes kill worms so speedily, that Fontana thinks they must contain the most active and powerful venom; for the lips of a polype scarce touch the worm, but it expires, so great is the energy of the poison it conveys into it, though no wound can be observed in the dead animal. As soon as the stomach is filled, its capacity is enlarged, the body is shortened, Plate XXIV. A. Fig. 6, the arms are for the most part contracted, the polype hangs down without motion, and appears to be in a kind of stupor, and very different from its shape when extended; but in proportion as the food is digested, and it has voided the excrementitious parts, the body lengthens, and gradually recovers its usual form. The transparency of the polype permits us to see distinctly the worm it has swallowed, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 12, which gradually loses its form. It is at first macerated in the stomach of the polype, and when the nutritious juices are separated from it, the remainder is discharged by the mouth, Fig. 13. It is with these, as with other voracious animals, as they devour a great quantity of food at once, so also they can fast for a long time. The history of insects furnishes many examples of this kind. One circumstance is observable, which probably contributes much to the digestion of their food, namely, that the aliments are continually pushed backward from one extremity of the stomach to the other; this motion may be easily observed with a microscope, in a polype which is not too full, and in which the food has been already divided into little fragments. For these observations, it is best to feed the polype with such food as will give a livelycoloured juice; as for example, those worms whose intestines are filled with red substances: for by these means we shall see that the nutritious juices are conveyed not only to the extremity of the body, but also into the arms; from whence it is probable that each of the arms form also a kind of gut, which communicates with that of the body. Some bits of a small black snail that is frequently to be found in our ditches, was given to a polype. The substance of this skin was soon reduced into a pulp, consisting of little black fragments; on examining the polype with the microscope, these particles were perceived to be driven about the stomach, and to pass from head to tail, and into their arms, even where these were as fine as a thread; they were afterwards forced into the stomach, and from thence to the tail, from whence they were again driven into the arms, and so on. The grains take their tinge from the food which nourishes the polypes; these grains become red or black, if the polype be fed with juices that are either red or black; and they are more or less tinged with these different colours, in proportion to the strength and quantity of the nutritive juices. It is also observable, that they lose their colour if fed with aliments that are not of the same colour with themselves. The polypes feed on the greater part of those insects that are to be found in fresh water. They may be nourished with worms, the larv of gnats, c. they will also eat larger animals if they are cut into small pieces, as snails, large aquatic insects, small fish, butchers meat, c. Sometimes two polypes seize the same worm, and each begins to swallow its own end, continuing so to do till their mouths meet, Plate XXIV. A. Fig. 8; in this position they remain for some time, at last the worm breaks, and each has its share; sometimes the combat does not end here, for each continuing to dispute the prize, one of the polypes opens its mouth advantageously, and swallows the other with its portion of the worm, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 14; this combat ends more fortunately for the devoured polype than might be at first expected, for the other often gets the prey out of its stomach, but lets it out again sound and safe, after having imprisoned it above an hour. From hence we learn, that the stomach of the polype, which so soon dissolves the animal substances which are conveyed into it, is not capable of digesting that of another polype. Plate XXIV. A. Fig. 5, represents a polype with one half a centipe in its mouth, as at a; the other part without, as at m. Fig. 1 represents one suspended in water by a piece of packthread; c n, a centipe seized by it, and drawn partly towards the mouth; i o, the bendings in the arm; p, an arm in search of a small aquatic insect. Fig. 2, a polype stretching itself into a boatlike form, to take or swallow a worm lying sideways. Fig. 4, the same polype with the worm swallowed and bent within it. Fig. 6, is a polype in the situation they generally assume when they have satisfied their voracious appetite. Fig. 7, one that has swallowed a small monoculus. Fig. 9, a, one whose arms are loaded with monoculi. Fig. 10, a polype full of them from head to tail. Fig. 3, one that has only swallowed a few of them. Fig. 8, represents two polypes engaged in combat for a worm, of which both of them have swallowed a part. Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 11, represents a polype engaged with a very large worm. Fig. 12, a worm seen within the skin of a polype. Fig. 13, a polype disgorging the excrementitious parts of a worm. Plate XXI. Fig. 12, a polype that has swallowed a small fish, and taken the shape thereof. OF THE GENERATION OF THE HYDR. As the hydra fusca and the hydra grisea are considerably larger than the hydra viridis, it is more easy to observe the manner of their producing their young. It is upon these, therefore, that most of the observations here recited have been made. If one of them be examined in summer, when the animals are most active, and more particularly prepared for propagation, it will be found to shoot forth from its side several little tubercles, or knobs, which grow larger and larger every day; after two or three days inspection, what at first appeared but a small excrescence, takes the figure of a small animal, entirely resembling its parent. It does not inclose a young polype, but is the real animal in miniature, united to the parent, as a sucker to the tree. When a young polype first begins to shoot, the excrescence terminates in a point, as at e, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 24; so that it is rather of a conical figure, and of a deeper colour than that of the body. This cone soon becomes truncated, and in a little time appears cylindrical. The arms then begin to shoot from the anterior end c i. The tail adheres to the body of the parent, but grows gradually smaller, till at last it only adheres by a point b, Fig. 23, it is then ready to be separated; for this purpose the mother and young ones fix themselves to the glass, or other substance upon which they may be situated. They have then only to give a sudden jerk, and they are divided from each other. There are some trifling differences to be observed now and then in their performing this operation, which it would be too tedious to enumerate here. A polype, a b, Fig. 20, with a young one, c d, places its body in an arch of a circle a d b, against the sides of the glass, the young one being fixed at the top d of the arch, with its head also fixed against the glass; so that the mother, by contracting the body, and thus becoming straight, loosens herself from the young one. The young ones shoot in proportion to the warmth of the weather, and the nature of the food eaten by the mother; some have been observed to be perfectly formed in twentyfour hours, while others have required fifteen days for the same purpose; the first were produced in the midst of summer, the latter in a cold season. The tail of the young polype communicates with, and partakes of the food from the parent in the same manner as its own arms do, and the food lies in the same manner as in the arms. When this ftus is furnished with arms, it catches its prey, swallows, digests, and distributes the juices thereof even to the parent body; every good is common to each. Here then we have evident communication between the ftus and the mother; this communication was further proved by the following experiment. A large polype, one of the hydra fusca, was placed on a slip of paper, in a little water; the middle of the body of the young one was cut, and the superior part of that end which remained fixed to the parent was found to be open. The parent polype was then cut on each side of the shoot. Thus a short cylinder was obtained, which was open at both ends. This being viewed through a microscope, the light was seen to come through the side slip, or young one, into the stomach of the old one. For further conviction, the cylindrical portion was cut lengthways; on observing these parts, not only the hole t of the communication, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 17, was distinctly seen, but one might see through the end o of the young one. On changing the situation of these two pieces of prepared polypes, and looking through the opening e, Fig. 18, the daylight was seen through the hole of communication i. This communication, between the parent polype and its young ones may be seen on feeding them; for, after the parent a b, Plate XXIV. B. Fig. 22, has eaten, the bodies of the young ones swell, being filled with the aliments as if they themselves had been eating. In the hydra fusca the young ones do not proceed from the tail part b c, Plate XXIII. B. Fig. 16, but only from the part a c, with this exception, there is no particular part of the body before the rest, on which they produce their young. Some of them have been so closely observed, and have so greatly multiplied, that there would be scarce any impropriety in saying they produced their young ones from all the exterior parts of their body. A polype puts forth frequently five or six young ones at the same time. Trembley has had some that have produced nine or ten at the same time, and when one dropped off another came in its place. Though this gentleman had for two years thousands of them under his eye, and considered them with the most scrupulous attention, he never observed any thing like copulation. To be more certain on this head, he took two young ones the instant they came from their parent, and placed them in separate glasses; they both multiplied, not only themselves, but their offspring, which were separated and watched in the same manner to the seventh generation; nay, they have even the faculty of multiplying while they adhere to the parent. The arms of the young ones do not sprout till the body has attained some length. Several excrescences or buds often appear at the same time on a polype, which are so many polypes growing from one trunk; whilst these are developing, they also bud, which buds again put forth little ones, the parent and the young ones forming a singular kind of animal society, in which all participate of the same life, and the same wants. In this state, the parent appears like a shrub thick set with branches. Several generations are often thus attached to one another, and all to the parent polype; after a time, this tree of polypes or hydr is decomposed, and gives birth to new generations, or fresh genealogical trees. Here we see a surprizing chain of existence continued, and numbers of animals naturally produced, without any union of sexes; every polype raising a numerous posterity by a kind of animal vegetation. From Fig. 16, Plate XXIII. B. the reader may form an idea of the promptitude with which these creatures increase and multiply; the whole group formed by the parent and its young was about an inch and an half long, and one inch broad, the arms of the mother and her nineteen little ones hanging down towards the bottom of the vessel; the animal would eat about twelve monoculi per day, and the little ones about twenty among them, or rather more than thirty for the group. OF THE REPRODUCTION OF THE HYDR. So strange is the nature of this creatures life, that the method by which other animals are killed and destroyed becomes a means of propagating these. When divided and cut to pieces in every direction that fancy can suggest, it not only continues to exist, but each section becomes an animal of the same kind. A polype cut transversely or longitudinally, in two or three parts, is not destroyed; each part in a little time becomes a perfect polype. This species of fecundity is so great in these animals, that even a small portion of their skin will become a little polype, a new animal rising as it were from the ruins of the old, each small fragment yielding a polype. If the young ones be mutilated while they grow upon the parent, the mutilated parts are reproduced; the same changes succeed also in the parent. A truncated portion will put forth young before it is perfectly formed itself, or has acquired its new head and tail; sometimes the head of the young one supplies the place of that which would grow out of the anterior part of the trunk. If a polype be slit, beginning at the head, and proceeding to the middle of the body, a polype will be formed with two heads, and will eat at the same time with both. If the polype be slit into six or seven parts, it becomes a hydra with six or seven heads. If these be again divided, we shall have one with fourteen; cut off these, and as many new ones will spring up in their place, and the heads thus cut off will become new polypes, of which so many new hydr may again be formed; so that in every respect it exceeds the fabulous relation of the Lernean hydra. As if the wonders already related of the polype were not sufficient to engage our attention to these singular animals, new circumstances, as surprizing as the foregoing, present themselves to convince us of the imperfection of our ideas of animality, and of the greatness of the power of our LORD and SAVIOUR, who is the source and origin of every degree of life, in all its immense gradations, as unity is the origin of number in all its varied series, multiplied proportions and combinations; and as numbers may be considered as recipient of unity, in order to make manifest the wonderful powers thereof, so the universe and its parts are adapted to receive life from the source of all life, and thus become representatives of his immensity and eternity. The polypes may be as it were grafted together. If the truncated portions of a polype be placed end to end, and then pushed together with a gentle force, they will unite, and form a single one. The union is at first made by a fine thread, and the portions are distinguished by a narrow neck, which gradually fills up and disappears, the food passing from one portion to another. Portions not only of the same, but pieces of different polypes may be thus united together. You may fix the head of one polype to the trunk of another; and that which is thus produced, will grow, eat, and multiply like another. There is still another method of uniting these animals together, more wonderful in its nature, and less analogous to any known principles of animation, and more difficult to perform. It is effected by introducing one within the other, forcing the body of one into the mouth of the other, and pushing it down so that their heads may be brought together: in this state it must be kept for some time; the two individuals are at last united, and grafted into each other; and the polype, which was at first double, is converted into one, with a great number of arms, and performs all its functions like another. The hydra fusca furnishes us with another prodigy, to which we know nothing that is similar either in the animal or vegetable kingdom. They may be turned inside out like a glove, and, notwithstanding the apparent improbability of the circumstance, they live and act as before. The lining or coating of the stomach now forms the epidermis, and the former epidermis now constitutes the coating of the stomach. A polype thus turned, may often have young ones attached to its side. If this be the case, after the operation they are of course inclosed in the stomach. Those which have acquired a certain size extend themselves towards the mouth, that they may get out when separated from the body; those which are but little grown, turn themselves inside out, and by these means place themselves again on the outside of the parent polype. The polype thus turned combines itself a thousand different ways. The forepart often closes itself, and becomes a supernumerary tail. The polype which was at first straight, now bends itself, so that the two tails resemble the legs of a pair of compasses, which it can open and shut. The old mouth is at the joint as it were of the compasses; it cannot, however, act as one, so that a new one is formed near it, and in a little time a new species of hydra is formed with several mouths. Plate XXIII. B. Fig. 18, represents the upper part of a polype that has been divided into two parts; a, the upper, c, the lower part, the end c being something larger than that of a common polype, and is sensibly perforated; in the summer time this part often walks and eats the same day it is cut. Fig. 17, the other part of the same polype; the anterior end is very open, and the edges of it turned a little outwards, which afterwards folding inwards, close the aperture. This end now appears swelled, as at c, Fig. 21; the arms shoot out from this end: at first three or four points only begin to shoot, as at c, Fig. 20, and while these increase in size, others appear between them; they can seize their prey and eat before their arms have done growing. In the height of summer the arms will often begin to shoot in twentyfour hours; but in cold weather it will be fifteen or twenty days before the head is formed. Fig. 22, represents a polype that was cut close under the arms; this became also a complete animal in a little time. The sides of a polype that has been cut longitudinally, roll themselves up in different ways, generally beginning at one of the extremities, rolling itself up in a heap, as in Plate XXIII. B. Fig. 19, with the outside of the skin inwards; it soon unrolls itself, and the cut sides form themselves into a tube, whereof the edges a b and e i, Fig. 15, on both sides meet each other and unite. Sometimes they begin to join at the tail end, at other times the whole sides gradually approach each other. The sides join so close, that from the first moment of their junction no scar can be discovered. Fig. 14, represents a polype partly joined, as at i b, the part c a e not yet closed. Fig. 29, represents a polype, the heads of which have been repeatedly divided, by which means it becomes literally a hydra. Fig. 24, represents a polype that has been turned, endeavouring to turn itself back again, the skin of the anterior part lying back upon the other; the arms varying in their direction, being sometimes turned towards the head, see Fig. 24 and 26, at others, towards the tail. The anterior extremity c, formed by the edges of the reversed part a, remained open for some days, and then began to close; new arms shot out near the old ones, and several mouths were formed at those parts where the arms joined the body. Fig. 23, 25, 27, 28, represent the different changes that took place in another polype that had been turned inside out, and the different revolutions it went through before it acquired a fixed state; a c always shews the part the polype had turned back, and a b the part it could not turn back. A polype, which has been partly turned back, remains but a little time in that situation. Fig. 28, a, the part where the portion it had turned back joined to the body a b; this became straight, and formed a right angle with a b; the same day another head appeared at e, and several arms, a o, a n, began to shoot from the mouth a; at the other side of this mouth there were the old arms a d. The next day the portion a c was drawn near the body, and formed an acute angle with it, as at Fig. 25. Fig. 27, represents the same swelled, after having swallowed a worm. Four days afterwards its form had varied considerably, as may be seen by comparing Fig. 25 and 28, having now one common mouth, and two small polypes growing on it. We may now be permitted to make a few reflections on this singular animal. On considering the various properties that have been already described, many particulars will be found in them that are very analogous to others that are continually carrying on around us; we perceive that there is a successive unfolding of new parts. In every organized frame there is a continual effort to extend its sphere of action, and enlarge the operation of that portion of life which is communicated to it. This gradual evolution requires a secret and curious mechanism, to regulate and modify by reaction the continued conatus of the forming principle within it. The polype is an organized whole, of which each part, each molecule, each atom, tends to produce another; it is, if we may so speak, one entire ovary, a compound of germ, or seed. In cutting a polype to pieces, the nourishing juices, which would have been employed in supporting the whole, are made to act upon each portion. When a polype is divided longitudinally, it forms two half tubes; the opposite edges of these approach, and in a very short time form a perfect tube. The sides are made to touch each other by certain motions and contractions of the piece; but as soon as the edges come in contact, a slight adhesion takes place, the corresponding vessels unite, and new ones are unfolded, as in a vegetable graft; by these means the points of connection and cohesion are multiplied, the motion of the fluids is reestablished, and with them the vital conomy. This is performed with more rapidity than in vegetables, because the polype is nearly gelatinous, and its parts are extremely ductile; this ductility is supported and preserved by the element which it inhabits. The same reasoning applies equally to explain the formation of so many heads to a polype, as constitute it a real hydra. A new polype is formed out of small portions or fragments, in a very different manner, the operations in nature being always varied, according as the circumstances differ; each fragment is puffed up, the skin separated, and an empty space is formed within it; this part is to become the stomach of the rising polype, which soon sends forth arms, and is formed to the perfection proper to its kind. We learn from this instance that the skin of the polype is not so simple as was at first imagined; for we find it dividing itself into two membranes, and forming thereby a cavity fit to perform all the functions of a stomach; but why these membranes are separated in the small portions, and not in the larger, we cannot tell; but though we are ignorant of this, and many more circumstances relative to the reproduction of these little animals, yet the foregoing facts enable us to understand better the nature of the existence of these polypes which have been turned inside out. For as that part which formed the interior skin of the stomach in the little fragments beforementioned, became the exterior part of the animal, the inside of the polype is consequently so similar to the exterior skin, that one may be substituted for the other, without injuring the vital functions; from hence we might, in some measure, have inferred the possibility of the polypes living, after they have been turned inside out, independent of the fact itself. The viscera of the animal are situated in the thickness of the skin, and absorbing pores are placed both on the inside and outside, so that the animal can live whether the skin be turned one way or the other. The Author of nature did not create the polype to be turned as we turn a glove; but he formed an animal whose viscera were lodged in the thickness of the skin, and with powers to resist the various accidents to which it was unavoidably exposed by the nature of its life; and the organization necessary for this purpose was so constructed, that the skin might be turned without destroying life. Every portion of a divided polype has, like the vegetable bud, all the viscera necessary to its existence; it can, therefore, live by itself, and push forth a head and tail, when placed end to end against another piece. The vegetation consists in uniting the portions, the vessels of each part increase in length, and a communication is soon formed between them, which unites the whole. The ease with which the parts unite, is as has been observed before, probably owing to their gelatinous nature; for we find many similar instances in tender substances. The solid parts of the embryo, as the fingers, unite in the womb; tender fruit and leaves may be also thus united. A portion of these creatures is capable of devouring its prey almost as soon as it is divided from the rest. In the structure of those animals which are most familiar to us, a particular place is appropriated for the developement and passage of the embryo. But on the body of an animal, which, like a tree, is covered with prolific gems, it is not surprizing that the young ones should proceed from its sides, like branches from a tree. The mother and her young ones form but one whole; she nourishes them, and they contribute to her existence, as a tree supports, and is reciprocally supported by its branches and leaves. OF THE HYDRA PALLENS. The hydra pallens has been fully described only by M. Rsel;113 it is very seldom to be met with, is of a pale yellow colour, and grows smaller gradually from the bottom, the tail is somewhat round or knobbed, the arms are about the length of the body, of a white colour, and generally seven in number, apparently composed of a chain of globules; it brings forth the young from all parts of its body. Linnus defines it as, hydra pallens tentaculis subsenis mediocribus;114 Pallas as, hydra attenuata corpore flavescente, sursum attenuato.115 113 Insecten Belustigung, 3. Theil. pag. 465. Tab. LXXVI. LXXVII. 114 System. Nat. p. 1320, No. 4. 115 Zoophyt. 4. OF THE HYDRA HYDATULA. Plate XXI. Fig. 1, 2, 3, and 4. The next in order is the hydra hydatula, which we have already defined from Linnus as a hydra with four obsolete arms, and a vesicular body: it is spoken of by several medical writers, who are enumerated in the Systema Natur, p. 1321. It is described also by Hartman, Misc. Nat. Cur. Dec. I. An. 7, Obs. 206, Dec. II. An. 4, Obs. 73, as hydatis animata; also in the Dissert. de Inf. Viv. p. 50; n. 6, tnia hydatoidea. Pallas defines it as tnia hydatigena rugis imbricata corpore postice bulla lymphatic terminato. The following description is extracted from that in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 193, by Dr. Tyson, who names it lumbricus hydropicus. In the dissection of a gazella or antelope, Dr. Tyson observed several hydatides or films filled with water, about the size of a pigeons egg, and of an oval form, fastened to the omentum, and some in the pelvis, between the bladder of urine and the rectum; and he then suspected them to be a particular sort of insect, bred in animal bodies, or at least the embryos or eggs of them: 1. Because he observed them included in a membrane, like a matrix, so loosely, that by opening it with a finger or knife, the internal bladder, containing the serum or lympha, seemed no where to have any connection with it, but would very readily drop out, still retaining its liquor, without spilling any of it. 2. He observed that this internal bladder had a neck or white body, more opake than the rest of the bladder, and protuberant from it, with an orifice at its extremity, by which, as with a mouth, it exhausted the serum from the external membrane, and so supplied its bladder or stomach. 3. Upon bringing this neck near the candle, it moved and shortened itself. Fig. 1, represents one of these watery bladders inclosed in its external membrane, its shape was nearly round, being only a little depressed or flatted, as a drop of quicksilver will be by lying on a plane. In Fig. 2, the neck is better seen; the external membrane being taken off, an open orifice is found at its extremity; it consists of circular rings or incisures, which are more visible when magnified, as in Fig. 3; it then appears granulated with a number of little eminences all over the surface; the orifice at the extremity seems to be formed by retracting itself inwards, and upon trial it was found to be so; for in Fig. 4, the neck of this polype is represented magnified and drawn out its whole length; on opening it there were found within the two strings a, a, which probably convey into the stomach the moisture and nourishment, which the animal, by protruding its neck, extracts from the external membrane.116 116 Hydra hydatula habitat in abdomine mammalium, ovium, suum, murium, c. inter peritoneum et intestina. Vesica lymphatica, pellucida, magnitudine pruni, petiolata corpore cylindrico, in cujus apice os, quod, corpore compresso, movet tentacula vix manifesta. Linn. Syst. Nat. p. 1321, No.5. OF THE HYDRA STENTOREA. Plate XXII. Fig. 27 and 28. Hydra tentaculis ciliaribus corpore infundibuliformi. The arms of this hydra are rows of short hairs, the body trumpetshaped. This species of hydra is very common, and has been described by almost every writer on these subjects; it is placed by Mller among the vorticell. Vorticella stentorea caudata, elongata, tubformis limbo ciliato. Mller animalcula infusoria. Mr. Baker originally named it the funnellike polype, which Messrs. Trembley and Reaumur changed to the tunnellike polype, under which name it appears in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 474. There are three kinds of them, which are of different colours, green, blue, and white. The white ones are the most common. It is necessary to observe them often, and in various attitudes, in order to obtain a tolerable idea of their structure. They do not form clusters, but adhere singly by their tail to whatever comes in their way; their anterior end is wider than the posterior, and being round, gives the animal somewhat of a funnel form, though it is not completely circular, having a sort of slit or gap that interrupts the circle. The edge of this opening is furnished with a great number of fibrill, which by their brisk and continual motions excite a current of water; the small bodies that float or swim near this current, are forced by it into the mouth of the little animal. Trembley says, that he has often seen a number of very small animalcula fall one after another into the mouth, some of which were afterwards let out again at another opening, which he was not able to describe. They can fashion their mouths into several different forms. If any thing touch them, they shrink back and contract themselves. They live independent of each other, swimming freely through the water in search of their prey, and fix to any thing they meet with. These animals multiply by dividing themselves, not longitudinally, nor transversely, but sloping and diagonal wise; the proceedings in nature continually varying in every new form of life. Of the two polypes produced by the division of one, the first has the old head and a new tail; the other, the old tail and a new head. To make the description more clear, Trembley called that with the old head the superior polype, that with the new head the inferior one. The first particular that is observable in these polypes, when they are going to divide, is the lips of the inferior one; a transverse and oblique stripe indicates the part where it is going to divide; the new lips are formed at about twothirds of the length of the polype, reckoning from the head; the division is made in a sloping line, that goes about half way round the parent animal; these lips are at first discerned by a slow motion, which engages the attention of the observer. They then insensibly approach each other and close, whereby a swelling is formed on the side of the polype, which is soon found to be a new head. When the swelling is considerably increased, the two polypes may be plainly distinguished. The superior one being now connected with the inferior one only by its lower extremity, is soon detached from it, and swims away to fix itself on some convenient substance; the inferior one remains fastened to the place where the original polype was fixed before the division. From the various modes by which different species of polypes are multiplied, we are led to form more exalted ideas of nature, and to see that the little we discover is but an exceeding small part of her contents; we learn also to be more cautious in reasoning from analogy, and laying down the known for a model to the unknown, because we find that the operations in nature are varied ad infinitum. The growth of the hydra fusca is very quick, but that of the hydra stentorea is much more so. The progress of the ftus is always more rapid than that of the infant and adult animal; but in these organized atoms the evolution is so rapid, as to appear almost like an immediate creation. Fig. 28 represents the hydr stentore, or funnelpolypes, fixed to the under side of a piece of some vegetable substance; they are in this figure of their natural size. Fig. 27, the same polypes magnified; the different forms they assume are also seen here, sometimes short and thick, as at m m; long, as at n; nearly globular, as at o; extended to the full size, as at k; seen as contracted at i. The fibrill or little hairs may be seen in most of the attitudes except those of l. OF THE HYDRA SOCIALIS. Plate XXI. Fig. 11. Hydra socialis mutica torosa rugosa.117 117 Linn. Syst. Nat. p. 1321. No. 7. Social hydra, bearded thick and wrinkled. This species of hydra has been described by many writers. It is the vorticella socialis of Mller, who defines it as vort cella caudata, aggregata, clavata; disco obliquo. Mller Animalcula Infusoria, p. 304. Pallas makes it a brachionus, Pall. Zooph. 53. In Fig. 11, these animals are represented as considerably magnified; they appear like a circle, surrounded with crowns, or ciliated heads, tied by small thin tails to a common center, from whence they advance towards the circumference, where they turn like a wheel, with a great deal of vivacity and swiftness, till they occasion a kind of whirlpool, which brings into its sphere the proper food for the polype. When one of them has been in motion for a time, it stops, and another begins; sometimes two or three may be perceived in motion together. They are often to be found separate, with the tail sticking in the mud. The body contracts and dilates very much, so as sometimes to have the appearance of a cudgel; at others, to assume almost a globular form. The young polypes of this species have been sometimes taken for the hydra stentorea. OF THE VORTICELL. We now come to another division of these animals, to which later writers have given the name of vorticell; this term I shall therefore adopt, being of opinion that it behoves every man to maintain that order in scientific arrangement which is not inconsistent with truth, except he can produce another arrangement more expressive of the nature of the objects it is designed to discriminate; a process requiring no small degree of attention. The variety that may be observed in these minute animals confirms a principle, which, the more it is inquired into, the more it will be found to accord with the general operations in nature, namely, that there is always a preexistent principle of life necessary to the organization both of animals and vegetables; that the alimentary and other particles which are added to, or apparently belong to them, produce nothing of themselves; they are incapable of forming the least fibre, but they are able to become constituent parts of one organical whole, together with the instruments whereby the forming principle is manifested, and rendered capable of acting upon certain orders of creatures. VORTICELLA. Animal calyce vasculoso; ore contractili ciliato, terminali. Stirps fixa. A small animal, with a vascular cup; the mouth is at one end ciliated, and capable of being contracted, the stem fixed. VORTICELLA ANASTATICA. Plate XXI. Fig. 13, 14, 15, and 16. Vorticella anastatica, composita, floribus campanulatis, stirpe multiflora rigescente. Vorticella anastatica, compound, with bellshaped flowers, and a rigid stem. Cluster polype, second species. Trembley, Philos. Trans. vol. xliv. part. 2. p. 643. These polypes form a group resembling a cluster, or more properly an open flower; this flower or cluster is supported by a stem, which is fixed by its lower extremity to some of the aquatic plants or extraneous bodies that are found in the water; the upper extremity forms itself into eight or nine lateral branches, perfectly similar to each other; these have also subordinate branches, whose collective form much resembles that of a leaf. Every one of these assemblages is composed of one principal branch or nerve, which makes with the main stem of the cluster an angle somewhat greater than a right one; from both sides of this nerve the smaller lateral branches proceed; these are shorter the nearer their origin is to the principal branch. At the extremity of the principal branch, and also of all the lateral ones, there is a polype or vorticella. There are others on both sides of the lateral twigs, but at different distances from their extremity. These polypes are all exceeding small, and of a belllike figure; near their mouth a quick motion may be discerned, though not with sufficient distinctness to convey an adequate idea of its cause; upon the branches of these clusters are round bodies, which will be more particularly described presently. Every cluster has eight or nine of these branches or leaves; they do not all proceed from the same point, but the points from whence they set out are not far asunder; each of these branches is bent a little inwards, so that all of them taken together form a kind of shallow cup. If the eye be placed right over the base of this cup, the appearance of the whole eight or nine branches is like unto that of a star, with so many rays proceeding from the center. If the cluster be slightly touched, all the branches instantly fold up, and form a small round mass. The stem which supports the cluster contracts also at the same time, folding up like a workmans measuring rule, that consists of three or four joints. This extraordinary assemblage constitutes one organized whole, formed of a multitude of similar and particular ones. A new species of society, in which all the individuals are members of each other in the strictest sense, and all participate of the same life. A few days after one of these clusters is formed, small round bodies or bulbs may be perceived to protrude in several places from the body of the branch; these grow very fast, and arrive at their greatest growth in two or three days. The bulbs detach themselves from the branches out of which they spring, and go away, swimming till they can settle upon some substance which they meet with in the water, and to which they fix themselves by a short pedicle; the bulbs are then round, only a little flatted on the under side, the pedicle continues to lengthen gradually for about twentyfour hours, during the same time the bulbs also change their figure, and become nearly oval. There are in a cluster but few of these bulbs, compared with the number of the vorticell, neither do all the bulbs come out at the same time. The bulb then divides lengthways into two smaller ones, but which are still much larger than the vorticell themselves. It is not long before these are separated like the first, and thus form four bulbs on the same stalk; these again divide themselves, and form eight; which again subdivide, and consequently make sixteen. They are all connected with the stalk by a proper pedicle, but they are not all of an equal size; the largest continue to divide, and the smallest begin to open, and take the bellformed shape. Trembley observed from one round bulb, in about twentyfour hours, by repeated divisions, onehundred and ten vorticell to be formed. It has been asked with propriety, what plant or what animal could have led us to expect an existence and mode of propagation similar to that of the vorticella anastatica? Fig. 13 represents one branch of the vorticella anastatica; on this branch, besides the vorticell which are of a belllike form, some of those round bodies from which they first spring, and by which they are so remarkably distinguished from any other species, may be seen. Fig. 14 represents one of the globular bodies after it has parted from the cluster, and has fixed itself to some other body, and after the globule itself and its pedicle have begun to lengthen. Fig. 15 represents the two bodies that were formed by the parting of that which is shewn at Fig. 14. Fig. 16 represents four that were formed by the separation of the two bulbs, exhibited in the foregoing figure. VORTICELLA PYRARIA. Plate XXII. Fig. 25, 26. Vorticella composita, floribus muticis obovatis; tentaculis bigeminis, stirpe ramosa. Compound, with beardless oval florets, two double arms, the stem branched. It is somewhat of a pear shape, the base is pellucid, the top truncated, the lateral arms, which are a pair on each side, cannot be distinguished without some attention; they are sometimes to be seen disengaged from the pedicle, and rolling swiftly in a kind of circle. VORTICELLA CRATGARIA. Plate XXII. Fig. 40. Vorticella composita, floribus muticis globosis; tentaculis binis, stirpe ramosa. Compound, with globous naked florets, two tentacules, and a branched stem. These vorticell are to be found in the month of April, both in the mud, and upon the tail of the monoculus quadricornis; they are generally heaped together in the manner in which they are represented in the figure; they are of a spherical form, and united to one common stalk. They are also often to be found without any pedicle. The body is rather contracted; the aperture is circular, and surrounded with a marked margin; it has two small arms. With a deep magnifier, a vehement rotatory motion may be seen. They sometimes separate from the community, and go forwards in a kind of spiral line, and then in a little time come back again to the rest. The figure represents a parcel of these vorticell united together. Among the other authorities for this animal, Linnus refers to Bakers description of the mulberry insect, Employment for the Microscope, p. 348, which, as it differs a little from the preceding account, we shall insert here. That from which his drawing was made, and which he has described, was found in a ditch near Norwich; he called it the mulberry insect, from the resemblance it bore to that fruit; though the protuberances that stand out round it are more globular than those of a mulberry. It is to be seen rolling about from one place to another, and is probably a congeries of animalcula; they are to be met with in different numbers of knobs or protuberances, some having fifty or sixty, others more or less, down to four or five. The manner of moving is the same in all. They are generally of a pale yellow. VORTICELLA OPERCULARIA. Plate XXII. Fig. 29. Vorticella composita floribus muticis ovalibus, stirpe ramosa. Compound, with naked oval florets, and a branched stem. These vorticell are of a lemon shape, and are generally found in clusters, branching out from a stem, which mostly adheres to some convenient substance. That species of them which is described by Baker had a very short pedicle, and the animals were much longer than those which are represented at Fig. 29. There was no main stem, but all the pedicles were joined in one center, round which the animals extended themselves as so many radii, forming a very pleasing figure. The mouths of these animalcula are not ciliated, but they are furnished with a round operculum or cover, connected by a long ligament or muscle, which extends downwards through the body, and is affixed withinside of it, near the tail. This ligament may be contracted or dilated, so that the cover can be removed to some distance from the mouth; in this situation several short hairs maybe found to radiate from it; these have a vibratory motion, by which they excite a current of water, most probably to draw in the proper nourishment, after which they shut or pull down the cover, which they again extend at pleasure: when the cover is pulled close down, the mouth contracts, and no hairs are to be seen. Fig. 29 represents the vorticella opercularia; , the operculum removed at some distance from the mouth, at t; it is nearly close at r, the mouth contracted, the cover drawn in, and no hairs to be seen; u, a part of the stalk, from which some of the animalcula are separated. VORTICELLA UMBELLARIA. Plate XXII. Fig. 30. Vorticella composita, floribus ciliatis globosis muticis, stirpe umbellata. Compound, with ciliated globous naked florets and an umbellated stem. Vorticella acinosa, simplex, globosa, granis nigricantibus, pedunculo rigido. Mller Animal. Infus. p. 319. We frequently find in divers places, upon waterplants, and other bodies in the water, a whitish substance that looks like mould; plants, pieces of wood, snail shells, c. are often entirely covered over with this substance. If we examine any of these minute bodies by the microscope, we shall find such motions as will induce us to think them an assemblage of living animals, severally fixed to the extremities of small stems or pedicles, many of which are often so united as to form together a sort of branches or clusters, from whence they have been termed clustering polypes, or des polypes en bouquet. These clusters are larger or smaller, according to the species of the vorticell which form them, as well as owing to the concurrence of many other circumstances. To obtain a clear idea of the figure of these animals, it is best to observe the smaller clusters, as in the larger they are often rendered less distinct on account of the number. The length of those which are represented at Fig. 30, is about the 240th of an inch; they are of a bellshape. The anterior part a c generally appears open, the posterior part is fixed to a stem or pedicle, b e; it is by the extremity of this pedicle that the vorticella fastens itself to any substance. It appears in the microscope of a brownish colour, excepting at the smaller end b, where it is transparent, as well as the whole pedicle b e. When the anterior part a c is open, a very lively motion may be perceived about its edges; and when it presents itself in a particular manner, something very much resembling the little wheels of a mill, moving with great velocity, may be discovered on both sides of the edges of this anterior part. These vorticell are able to contract themselves suddenly. They may be made to do this, either by touching them, or moving the substance to which they are fixed. When they contract, the edges of the anterior parts are drawn quite into the body; on resuming their former posture, the edges may be seen to come forth, and put themselves in motion as before. Minute substances that float in the water are often forced down into these openings, and sometimes are thrown out again. They are capable of swimming about singly, but their form is in that case considerably different from that which they have when they are fixed. To see regularly in what manner the clusters are formed, and in what way these little creatures multiply, it is best to observe one that is fixed by itself. The pedicle of a single vorticella is at first short, but it soon grows longer, and then begins to multiply, that is, to divide or split itself into two lengthways. To effect this, the lips are first drawn into the body, the anterior part closes and becomes round, and loses its bell shape, the motion about the lips ceases, though a small degree of motion may be perceived within the body. The anterior end flattens gradually, and spreads wider in proportion as it grows smaller. It then gradually splits down the middle, that is, from the middle of the head to the pedicle, so that in a little time two separate round bodies appear to be joined to the end of the pedicle that before supported but one. The mouth or anterior part of each of these bodies now opens by degrees; and in proportion as they open, the lips of the new vorticella begin to display themselves. The motion before spoken of may then also be perceived. Indeed it is the best time of observing it; it is at first slow, but more rapid in proportion as the mouth opens, when it is as swift as that of the vorticella before it began to divide, and we may now look upon it as completely formed. A vorticella is generally about one hour in dividing itself. The lower of the three drawings, Fig. 30, represents two vorticell joined by their posterior extremity to one pedicle; soon after the division, each vorticella begins to shew a pedicle of its own. Fig. 30 represents a cluster of eight vorticell; by this figure we may form some idea in what manner the pedicles are disposed as their number increases. There were at first only two at b, whose branches lengthened to d, and then each of them was divided into two, now forming four; these again lengthened and reached i; when they were again subdivided, as in the figure. The reader will join with Bonnet in admiring the group of wonders afforded by a single spot of mouldiness. What unforeseen, varied, and interesting scenes are presented within so small a compass! what a theatre is exhibited to a thinking mind! But our abode is so recluse, that we have but a glimmering view of it: how great would our astonishment be, if the whole spectacle was disclosed to us at once, and we were enabled to penetrate into the interior structure of this wonderful assemblage of living atoms! Our eyes see only the gross parts of the decorations, whilst the machines that execute them remain in impenetrable darkness! Who shall enlighten this profound obscurity, or dive into an abyss where reason is lost; or draw from thence the treasures of wisdom concealed within it? Let us learn to be content with the small portion that is communicated to us, and contemplate with gratitude the first traces of human understanding that are imparted to us in these discoveries. VORTICELLA BERBERINA. Vorticella composita, floribus ovalibus muticis, stirpe ramosa. Compound, with oval beardless florets. This is a species of the vorticell, which resembles the preceding one in many respects, particularly in being multiplied in the same manner, that is, by dividing or splitting, according to its length. They are more slender than the vorticella umbellaria; the branches of the clusters are transparent. When many of them are together, they appear of a changeable violet colour; the clusters are not unlike a sprig of spun glass. The motion of the lips is not so easily distinguished as in the foregoing species, though it may be observed in these whilst they are opening and completing their formation. For at these times the motion is but slow, whereas it becomes afterwards very quick in those that are arrived at a state of perfection. All the cluster vorticell detach themselves from time to time from the stem, and from these they swim about till they fix again upon some convenient substance; the branches, when deserted, bear no more vorticell. VORTICELLA DIGITALIS. Plate XXII. Fig. 31. Vorticella composita, floribus cylindricis, unisulcatis semiclausis, stirpe ramosa. Compound, with cylindrical florets. Vorticella composita, cylindrica, crystallina, apice truncata et fissa, pedunculo fistuloso ramosa. Mller Animal. Infus. p. 327. This species of the vorticella is very scarce, it seems only to have been seen by Rsel, who found it on the monoculus quadricornis, till it was discovered in the year 1784 by Mller, who had sought for it several years before, but in vain. The body is cylindrical, crystalline, and appears almost empty; it has three pellucid points disposed lengthways, the apex is truncated in an oblique direction, the margin bent back. The upper part contracts itself, and the margin then assumes a conical shape, with a convex surface; there are in general but few branches from the principal stem, and these are short and thick. It excites an undulatory motion, but no hairs, nor any rotatory motion, have been discovered. Fig. 31, o and n, represents the vorticella adhering to the monoculus quadricornis. VORTICELLA CONVALLARIA. Plate XXII. Fig. 39. Vorticella simplex, gregaria, flore campanulata mutico; tentaculis bigeminis, stirpe fixa. Simple, but gregarious, the florets bellshaped, with two pair of little arms, and a fixed stem. Vorticella simplex, campanulata, pedunculo rotortili. Mller Animal. Infus. These vorticell, or bellanimals, as they are termed by Baker, are generally found adhering to some substance in the water; they are represented here as found by Rsel, fixed to a curious cornu ammonis, with points projecting from the back. To the naked eye they appear only as so many little white points, but under the microscope, as little bells, agitating the water to a considerable distance. The stems of these have a particular motion, they draw themselves up and shorten all at once, taking the form of a spiral wire or screw; in a moment after they again resume their former shape, stretching themselves out straight as before. Many of them may be seen at times adhering to each other by their tails; the cilia, which are two on each side of the mouths, are very seldom to be perceived. VORTICELLA URCEOLARIS. Plate XXII. Fig. 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38. Vorticella simplex, pedunculata, ore dentato. Single, with a short tail, and toothed mouth. Brachionus capsularis testa ovata apice sexdentata basi incisa, cauda longa bicuspi. Mller Animal. Infus. p. 356. To the naked eye it appears as a white moveable point; but when examined by the microscope, a tail projecting from the lower part is discovered, and a double rotatory instrument is seen, which it can conceal or expose at pleasure. It has been seen and described by most microscopical writers; but as Bakers seems to be the most perfect description, I shall principally follow his account of it. He discovered three species of them, two of which are included under the vorticella urceolaris. Fig. 33, 34, 35, are of the first species; Fig. 36, 37, 38, are of the second kind. The first sort, when extended, is about twice as long as it is broad. It is contained in a shell; the fore part of this is armed with four sharp teeth or points; the opposite side has no teeth, but is waved or bent in two places, like the form of a Turkish bow. At the bottom there is a hole, through which it pushes the tail. It fastens itself by this tail to any convenient substance when it intends to use its rotatory organs; but when it is floating in the water, and at all other times when not adhering to any body, it wags the tail backwards and forwards something like a dog. We may consider it as divided into a head, thorax, and abdomen; each of which may be extended and contracted considerably: it can, by dilating all three, protrude the head beyond the shell, or by contracting them, draw the whole body within the same. The head, when extended, divides itself into two branches, between which, another part, a kind of proboscis, is pushed out; at the end of this are two fibrils, that appear when they are at rest like a broad point, but which can be moved to and from each other very briskly with a vibratory motion, see Fig. 33. The form and situation of the two branches are sometimes changed, the ends thereof becoming more round, and the vibratory motion is altered to a rotatory one: this alteration is represented at Fig. 34: the head also appears in this figure. The thorax is annexed to the lower part of the head; it is muscular: within it there is a moving intestine, which has been supposed to be either the lungs or the heart of the little creature, see b, Fig. 33 and 34. A communication is formed between the thorax and the abdomen by means of a short vessel c, whose alternate contractions and dilatations occasion the abdomen to rise and fall alternately, having at the same time a sort of peristaltic motion. The food is conveyed through this vessel into the abdomen, where it is digested; it is then discharged by the anus, which is placed near the tail. The tail has three joints, and is cleft or divided at the extremity, by which means it can better fasten itself to suitable objects. It is in general projected from the lower end of the shell, moving nimbly to and fro, serving the animal as a rudder when it is swimming, to direct its course. When the water in which the little animal is placed is nearly dried away, or when it has a mind to compose itself to rest, it contracts the head and forepart of the body, brings them down into the shell, and pulls the tail upwards, so that the whole of this minute creature is contained within the shell, see Fig. 35. The shell is so transparent that the terminations cannot be easily distinguished when the animal is extended; but whatever is transacted within the shell, is as plain as if there was no substance between the eye and the interior parts. Fig. 36, 37, 38, exhibit the appearance of another species of these animals, which differs from the foregoing kind. This has also a head, a thorax, and abdomen, but then they are not separated by a gut or intermediate vessel, as in the former, but are joined immediately together, and at the place where in the first kind a moveable intestine was seen; in this a muscle, most probably the heart, may be discovered; it has a regular systole and diastole: this part is intended to be shewn at a, Fig. 36, 37, 38. Like the other, it draws the head and tail within the shell, which then appears to have six teeth or spikes on one side, and two on the other. It very seldom protrudes its head so far out as the other; sometimes the fibrill may be seen within the margin of the shell. Both species carry their young in an oval integument or bag, fastened externally to the lower part of the shell, somewhere about the tail; these bags are sometimes opake at one end, and seemingly empty at the other, see d, Fig. 34: sometimes the middle is opake, with a transparent margin, see b, Fig. 36. It is highly entertaining to see a young one burst its integument, and gradually force its way out; in performing this operation, it is much assisted by the motion of the tail of the parent. The head part comes out first, it then sets its rotatory organ in motion, by which it is completely disengaged, leaving the integument behind, which the vorticella freed itself from by repeated strokes with its tail. A young one almost disengaged is seen at b, Fig. 38; another embryo, c, was left adhering to the shell. There are four more species of the vorticell mentioned by Linnus, which are, the vorticella encrinus, the vorticella polypina, the vorticella stellata, and the vorticella ovifera; which, being marine animals, do not come properly within our plan. The vorticella polypina will be described hereafter. TUBULARIA CAMPANULATA. Plate XXII. Fig. 32. Tubularia reptans, tubis campanulatis. Creeping, with campanulated tubes. It is called by Baker the bellflowered, or plumed animal. These little creatures dwell in colonies together, from ten to fifteen in number, living in a kind of slimy mucilaginous case, which, when expanded in the water, has some resemblance to a bell with its mouth upwards. These bells or colonies are to be found adhering to the large leaves of duckweed and other aquatic plants. The bell or case which these animals inhabit, being very transparent, all the motions of its inhabitants may be discerned distinctly through it. There are several ramifications or smaller bells proceeding from the larger one; in each of these there is an inhabitant. The opening at the top of these bells is just large enough for the creatures head, and a small part of its body to be thrust out from it, the rest remaining in the case, into which it also draws the head on the least alarm. Besides the particular and separate motions which each of these creatures is able to exert within its case, and independent of the rest, the whole colony has a power of altering the position of the bell, and removing it from one place to another. These animalcula seem not to like to dwell in societies, whose number exceeds fifteen; when the colony happens to increase in number, the bell may be observed to split gradually, beginning from about the middle of the upper extremity, and proceeding downwards towards the bottom, till they at last separate and become two colonies, independent of each other. The arms are very near each other; sixty may often be counted in one plume, having each the figure of an Italic , one of whose hooked ends is fastened to the head; and altogether, when expanded, compose a figure somewhat like a horseshoe, convex on the side next the body, but gradually opening and turning outwards, so as to leave a considerable distance within the outer extremities of the arms. The plumed polype is of a very voracious disposition, devouring a great number of small animals. If the arms, when extended, be observed attentively with the microscope, they will be found to have a constant vibratory motion; alternately bending withinside of the plume, and then rising up again. When one arm ceases its motion, the same is performed by another; thus by the perpetual agitation of the several arms, such a strong current is produced in the water, as brings the animalcula, and other minute bodies, that are floating near the polype, into its mouth, which is situated between the arms. The food, if agreeable to the creature, is swallowed; if otherwise, it is rejected by a contrary motion. The animal may be seen very plain when it has retired within the tube. The body is about oneeighth of an inch long, without reckoning the plume, which is about the same length. It is cylindrical, and the skin is very transparent. The plume is only a continuation of this transparent skin, it is very broad in proportion to the body, and of a remarkable figure; the base is of the shape of a horseshoe; from this base the arms project, they bend rather outwards. The plume which they form, gives them a resemblance to some flowers. The arms may be compared, from their fineness and transparency, to very fine threads of glass. The base of the plume is grooved, and is fixed to the animal by the middle of the horseshoe which it forms, and it is here that there is an opening which serves as a mouth to the animal. The intestines are easily distinguished through its transparent skin; when it has just been eating, they are of a deep brown colour. Three principal parts are very visible, the oesophagus, the stomach, and the rectum. In the inside of these animals a small oblong whitish body is formed, which is carried to the outside, and remains fixed in a perpendicular direction to the body; many of these are formed daily, and of these oval bodies new animals are produced, exactly similar to the parent. If these minute bodies be eggs, they are of a singular kind, being destitute of any covering, and are neither membranaceous nor crustaceous; we cannot with propriety say the young ones are hatched from them; we can, however, perceive these oviform bodies to unfold themselves gradually. The developement is accomplished in a few minutes, and an animalculum appears like the parent. Trembley amassed a great number of these eggs, and carried them from England with him, keeping them quite dry; on putting them into water, they gradually developed, and became as perfect as the tubularia from which they proceeded. There is a very great similarity in the construction of this little creature and many of the marine polypes, who, like it, exist in tubes of the same growth with themselves. Fig. 32 represents three tubulari campanulat or plumed polypes very much magnified, namely, one, b f a c d d e h g i, which is out of its cell; e h, the oesophagus; f g, the stomach; a f, the rectum; a c d d e, the plume, consisting of the base a e, which is but little seen, and the arms c d d, which proceed from the edges of this base; a second polype, A B I, which is within its cell, and in which the skin containing the plume is reversed. The third polype, s t u u, is a young one exhibited out of its cell; g o o, threads which are fixed at one end to the intestines of the animal, by the other to the bottom of the cell, l k. CHAP. VIII. OF THE ANIMALCULA INFUSORIA. Our knowledge of the microscopic world is at present very contracted, but we know enough to give us high conceptions of its concealed wonders, and to fill us with profound astonishment at the infinite variety of forms that are made recipient of life. A few of the inhabitants of this minute world have been discovered. The figure and apparent habits of life of these, resemble so little those with which we are more acquainted, that it is often difficult to find terms to express what is represented to the eye. Animalculum signifies a little animal, and therefore the term might be applied to every animal which is considerably inferior in size to ourselves. It has been customary, however, to distinguish by the name of animalcula only such animals as are of a size so diminutive, that their true figure cannot be discerned without the assistance of glasses; and more especially it is applied to such as are altogether invisible to the naked eye, and cannot even be perceived to exist, but by the aid of microscopes. By the help of magnifying glasses we are brought into a kind of new world; and numberless animals are discovered, which, from their minuteness, must otherwise for ever have escaped our observation: and how many kinds of these invisibles there may be, is yet unknown; as they are observed of all sizes, from those which are barely invisible to the naked eye, to such as resist the action of the microscope, as the fixed stars do that of the telescope, and with the best magnifiers hitherto invented, appear only as so many moving points. The smallest living creatures our instruments can shew, are those that inhabit the waters; for, though possibly animalcula equally minute, or perhaps more so, may fly in the air, or creep upon the earth, it is scarce possible to obtain a view of them; whereas, water being transparent, and confining the creatures within it, we are enabled, by applying a drop of it to our glasses, to discover with ease a great part of its contents, and in a space barely visible to the naked eye, often perceive a thousand little creatures, all full of life and vigour. By the animalcula infusoria are meant, not the larv of those insects which in their first state are inhabitants of water, and afterwards become winged insects, as the gnat, c. Baker, and many other writers on the subject, have often confounded these, and hence entered into a train of reasoning contrary to fact and experience. The animalcula infusoria take their name from their being found in all kinds either of vegetable or animal infusions; if seeds, herbs, or other vegetable substances, be infused in water, it will soon be filled with an indefinite number of these minute beings. There is a prodigious variety in their forms; some perfectly resemble the bellpolype; others are round or oblong, without any, at least apparent, members; some resemble a bulb with a long taper tail; some are nearly spherical; the greater part are vesicular and transparent. Those most generally found in every drop of ditch water are mere inflated bladders, with a small trace of intestines in the center; the next are a flat kind, with a number of legs under the belly. Motion seems to be their great delight; they pervade with equal ease and rapidity, and in all forms and directions, the whole dimensions of the drop, in which they find ample space for their various progressions, sometimes darting straight forward, at other times moving obliquely, then again circularly: they know how to avoid with dexterity any obstacles that might obstruct their progress. Hundreds may be seen in a drop of water in constant action, yet never striking against each other. If at any time the clusters prove so thick as to impede any of their motions, they roll and tumble themselves over head, creep under the whole range, force their way through the midst, or wheel round the cluster, with surprizing swiftness; sometimes they will suddenly change the direction in which they are moving, and take one diametrically opposite thereto. By inclining the glass on which the drop of water is laid, it may be made to move in any direction; the animalcula in the drop will swim as easily against the stream as with it. If the water begin to evaporate, and the drop to grow smaller, they flock impetuously towards the remaining part of the fluid; an anxious desire of attaining this momentary respite of life is very visible, as well as an uncommon agitation of the organs by which they imbibe the water. These motions grow more languid as the water fails, till at last they entirely cease. Animalcula and insects will support a great degree of cold, but both one and the other perish when it is carried beyond a certain point. The same degree of heat that destroys the existence of insects, is fatal to animalcula; as there are animalcula produced in water at the freezing point, so there are insects which live in snow. If the smallest drop of urine be put into a drop of water where these animalcula are roving about, apparently happy and easy, they instantly fly to the other side, but the acid soon communicating itself to this part, their struggles to escape are increased, but the evil also increasing, they are thrown into convulsions, and soon expire. Among animalcula, as in every other part of nature, there is constantly a certain proportion preserved between the size of the individuals and their number. There are always fewest amongst the larger kinds, but they increase in number as they diminish in size, till of the last, or lowest to which our powers of magnifying will reach, there are myriads to one of the larger. Like other animals, they increase in size from their birth till they have attained their full growth. When deprived of food, they grow thin and perish; and different degrees of organization are to be discovered in their structure. The birth and propagation of these microscopic beings is as regular as that of the largest animals of our globe; for though their extreme minuteness prevents us, in most cases, from seeing the germ from which they spring, yet we are well assured, from numerous observations, that the manner in which they multiply is regulated by constant and invariable laws. It has been shewn that different species of the hydr and vorticell multiply and increase by natural divisions and subdivisions of the parents body; this manner of propagation is very common among the animalcula in infusions, though with many remarkable varieties. Some multiply by a transverse division, a contraction takes place in the middle, forming a kind of neck that becomes smaller every instant, till they are enabled by a slight degree of motion to separate from each other. These animalcula in general studiously avoid each other; but when they are in the labour of multiplication, and the division is in great forwardness, it is not uncommon to see one of them precipitate itself on the neck of the dividing animalculum, and thus accelerate the separation. Another species, when it is on the point of multiplying, fixes itself to the bottom of the infusion; it then forms an oblong figure, afterwards becomes round, and begins to turn rapidly, as if upon an internal center, continually changing the direction of its rotatory motion; after some time, we may perceive two lines on the spherule, forming a kind of cross; soon after which the animalculum divides into four distinct beings, which grow, and are again subdivided. Some multiply by a longitudinal division, which in one kind begins in the forepart, and others in the hindpart; from another kind a small fragment is seen to detach itself, which very soon acquires the form of the parent animalculum. Lastly, some propagate in the same manner as those we deem more perfect animals. From what has been said, it appears clearly that their motions are not purely mechanical, but are produced by an internal spontaneous principle, and that they must therefore be placed among the class of living animals, for they possess the strongest marks, and the most decided characters of animation; and consequently, that there is no foundation for the supposition of a chaotic and neutral kingdom, which can only have derived its origin from a very transient and superficial view of these animalcula. It may also be further observed, that as we see the motions of the limbs, c. of the more noble animals, viz. the human species, are produced by the mechanical construction of the body and the action of the soul thereon, and are forced by the ocular demonstration arising from anatomical dissection, to acknowledge this mechanism which is adapted to produce the various motions necessary to the animal; and as when we have recourse to the microscope, we find those pieces which had appeared to the naked eye as the primary mechanical causes of the particular motions, to consist themselves of lesser parts, which are the causes of motion, extension, c. in the larger; when the structure can therefore be traced no further by the eye or glasses, we have no right to conclude, that the parts which are invisible, are not equally the subject of mechanism: for this would be only to assert in other words, that a thing may exist because we see and feel it, and has no existence when it is not the object of our senses. The same train of reasoning may be applied to microscopic insects and animalcula; we see them move, but because the muscles and members which occasion these motions are invisible, shall we infer that they have not muscles, with organs appropriated to the motion of the whole and its parts? To say that they exist not, because we cannot perceive them, would surely not be a rational conclusion. Our senses are indeed given us, that we may comprehend some effects; but then we have also a mind with reason bestowed upon us, that from the things which we do perceive with our senses, we may deduce the nature of those causes and effects which are imperceptible to the corporeal eye. Messrs. Buffon, Needham, and Baron Mnchhausen, have considered this part of animated nature in so different a light from other writers, that we cannot with propriety entirely pass them over. Needham imagined that there was a vegetative force in every microscopical point of water, and every visible filament of which the whole vegetable contexture consists; that the several species of microscopic animals may subside, resolve again into gelatinous filaments, and again give lesser animals, and so on, till they can be no further pursued by glasses. That agreeable to this idea, every animal or vegetable substance advances as fast as it can in its revolution, to return by a slow descent to one common principle, whence its atoms may return again, and ascend to a new life. That notwithstanding this, the specific seed of one animal can never give another of a different species, on account of the preparation it must receive to constitute it this specific seed. Buffon asserts, that what have been called spermatic animals, are not creatures really possessing life, but something proper to compose a living creature, distinguishing them by the name of organic particles, and that the moving bodies which are to be found in the infusions either of animal or vegetable substances, are of the same nature. Baron Mnchhausen supposed that the seeds of mushrooms were first animals, and then vegetables; and this, because he had observed some of the globules in the infusions of mushrooms, after moving some time, to begin to vegetate. It might be sufficient in the first instance to observe, that Messrs. Needham, and Buffon, by having recourse to a vegetative force and organic particles, to account for the existence and explain the nature of animalcula, and the difficulties of generation, have substituted words in the place of things; and that we are no gainers by the substitution, unless they explain the nature of these powers. But to this we may add, that all those who have examined the subject with accuracy and attention, as Bonnet, De Saussure, Baker, Wrisberg, Spalanzani, Haller, Ellis, Mller, Ledermller, Corti, Rofredi, c. disagree with the foregoing gentlemen, proving that they had deceived themselves by inaccurate experiments, and that one of them, Buffon, had not seen the spermatic animals he supposed himself to be describing, insomuch that Needham was at last induced to give up his favourite hypothesis. Though we can by no means pretend to account for the appearance of most animalcula, yet we cannot help observing, that our ignorance of the cause of any phnomenon is no argument against its existence. Though we are not, for instance, able to account in a satisfactory manner for the origin of the native Americans, yet we suppose Buffon himself would reckon it absurd to maintain, that the Spaniards on their arrival there found only ORGANIC PARTICLES moving about in disorder. The case is the very same with the eels in paste, to whose animation he objects. They are exceedingly small in comparison with us; but, with the solar microscope, Baker has made them assume a more respectable appearance, so as to have a diameter of an inch and an half, and a proportionable length. They swam up and down very briskly; the motion of their intestines was very visible; when the water dried up they died with apparent agonies, and their mouths opened very wide. Now, were we to find a creature of the size of this magnified eel gasping in a place where water had lately been, we certainly should never conclude it to be merely an ORGANIC PARTICLE, or fortuitous assemblage of them, but a fish. Why then should we conclude otherwise with regard to the eel in its natural state, than that it is a little fish? In reasoning on this subject, we ought ever to remember, that however essential the distinction of bodies into great and small may appear to us, they are not so to the Deity, with whom, as Baker well expresses himself, an atom is a world, and a world but as an atom. Were the Deity to exert his power a little, and give a natural philosopher a view of a quantity of paste filled with eels, from each of whose bodies the light was reflected as in the solar microscope; our philosopher, instead of imagining them to be mere organic particles, as the paste would appear like a little mountain, he would probably look upon the whole as an assemblage of serpents, and be afraid to come near them. Whenever, therefore, we discover beings to appearance endued with a principle of selfpreservation, or whatever we make the characteristic of animals, neither the smallness of their size, nor the impossibility of our knowing how they came there, ought to cause us to doubt of their being animated. I shall here insert some extracts of the experiments made by Ellis at the desire of Linnus, and which are a full refutation of those made by Needham and Mnchhausen. By those he made on the infusions of mushrooms in water, it appeared evidently that the seeds were put in motion by minute animals, which arose on the decomposition of the mushroom; these, by pecking at the seeds, which are little round reddish bodies, moved them about with great agility in a variety of directions, while the little animals themselves were scarce visible till the food they had eaten discovered them. The ramified filaments, and jointed or coralloid bodies, which the microscope discovers to us on the surface of most vegetable and animal infusions, when they become putrid, and which were supposed by Needham to be zoophytes, were found by Ellis to be of that genus of fungi called mucor, many of which have been figured by Michelius, and described by Linnus. Their vegetation is so quick, that they may be seen to grow and seed under the eye of the observer. Other instances of similar mistakes in Needhams experiments may be seen in Elliss paper, Philos. Trans. vol. lix. p. 138. A species of mucor arises also from the bodies of insects putrefying in water; this species sends forth a mass of transparent filamentous roots, from whence arise hollow seed vessels; on the top there is a hole, from which minute globules often issue in abundance, and with considerable elastic force, which move about in the water. It will however be found, with a little attention, that the water is full of very minute animalcula, which attack these seeds, and thus prolong their motion; but after a small space of time they rise to the surface, and remain there without any motion; a fresh quantity rises up, and floating to the edge of the water, remains there inactive; but no appearance can be observed of detached and separated parts becoming what are called microscopic animalcula. Indeed, it is surprizing that Needham should ever take the filaments of the moistened grains for any thing else than a vegetable production, a true species of mouldiness. On the 25th of May, Fahrenheits thermometer 70, Ellis boiled a potatoe in the New River water, till it was reduced to a mealy consistence. He put part of it, with an equal proportion of the boiling liquor, into a cylindrical glass vessel, that held something less than half a wine pint, and covered it close immediately with a glass cover. At the same time he sliced an unboiled potatoe, and, as near as he could judge, put the same quantity into a glass vessel of the same kind, with the same proportion of New River water not boiled, and covering it with a glass cover, placed both vessels close to each other. On the 26th of May, twentyfour hours afterwards, he examined a small drop of each by the first magnifier of Wilsons microscope, whose focal distance is reckoned at   part of an inch; and, to his amazement, they were both full of animalcula of a linear shape, very distinguishable, moving to and fro with great celerity; so that there appeared to be more particles of animal than vegetable life in each drop. This experiment he repeatedly tried, and always found it to succeed in proportion to the heat of the circumambient air; so that even in winter, if the liquors be kept properly warm, at least in two or three days the experiment will succeed. The animalcula are infinitely smaller than spermatic animals, and of a very different shape; the truth of which every accurate observer will soon be convinced of, whose curiosity may lead him to compare them, and he is persuaded they will find they are no way akin. Having learnt from M. De Saussure, of Geneva, that he found one kind of these animalcula infusoria that increases by dividing across into nearly two equal parts, and that the infusion was made from hempseed, he procured a quantity of this seed, some of it he put into New River water, some into distilled water, and some into very hard pump water; the result was, that in proportion to the heat of the weather, or the warmth in which they were kept, there was an appearance of millions of minute animalcula in all the infusions; and some time after some oval ones made their appearance; these were much larger than the first, which still continued. These wriggled to and fro in an undulatory motion, turning themselves round very quick all the time that they moved forwards. Ellis found out by mere accident a method to make their fins appear very distinctly, especially in the larger kind of animalcula, which are common to most vegetable infusions, such as the terebella. This has a longish body, with a cavity or groove at one end, like a gimblet. By applying a small stalk of the horseshoe geranium, the geranium zonale of Linnus, fresh broken, to a drop of water in which these animalcula are swimming, we shall find that they will become instantly torpid, contracting themselves into an oblong oval shape, with their fins extended like so many bristles all round their bodies. The fins are in length about half the diameter of the middle of their bodies. After lying in this state of torpitude for two or three minutes, if a drop of clean water be applied to them, they will recover their shape, and swim about immediately, rendering their fins again invisible. Before he discovered this expedient, he tried to kill them by different kinds of salts and spirits; but though they were destroyed by these means, their fins were so contracted, that he could not distinguish them in the least.118 118 The preceding recital of the hypothesis of Messrs. Buffon, Needham, and Baron Mnchhausen, may appear superfluous, having been so ably refuted by Mr. Ellis; the consideration, however, that it may afford entertainment to some of my readers, and prove beneficial to others, by cautioning them against too precipitately adopting plausible suppositions, induced me to retain the account. EDIT. It is one of the wonders of the modern philosophy to have invented means for bringing creatures so imperceptible as the various animalcula under our cognizance and inspection. One might well have deemed an object that was a thousand times too little to be able to affect our sense, as perfectly removed from human discovery; yet we have extended our sight over animals to whom these would be mountains. The naked eye takes in animal beings from the elephant to the mite; but below this, commences a new order, reserved only for the microscope, which comprehends all those from the mite, to those many millions of times smaller; and this order cannot be said to be exhausted, if the microscope be not arrived at its ultimate state of perfection. In reality, the greater number of microscopic animalcula are of so small a magnitude, that through a lens, whose focal distance is the tenth part of an inch, they only appear as so many points; that is, their parts cannot be distinguished, so that they appear from the vertex of that lens under an angle not exceeding the minute of a degree. If we investigate the magnitude of such an object, it will be found nearly equal to  of an inch long. Supposing, therefore, these animalcula to be of a cubic figure, that is, of the same length, breadth, and thickness, their magnitude would be expressed by the cube of the fraction , that is, by the number , that is, each animalculum is equal to so many parts of a square inch. This contemplation of animalcula has rendered the idea of indefinitely small bodies very familiar to us; a mite was formerly thought the limit of littleness, but we are not now surprized to be told of animals many millions of times smaller than a mite; for, there are in some liquors animalcules so small, as, upon calculation, the whole magnitude of the earth is not found large enough to be a third proportional to these minute floating animals and the whales in the ocean.119 These considerations are still further heightened, by reflecting on the internal structure of animalcula, for each must have all the proportion, symmetry and adjustment of that organized texture, which is indispensably necessary for the several functions of life, and each must be furnished with proper organs, tubes, c. for secreting the fluids, digesting its food, and propagating its species.120 119 Chamberss Cyclopedia by Rees, Art. Animalcule. 120 Minute animals proportionably exceed the larger kinds in strength, activity, and vivacity. It has been already observed, p. 212, that the spring of a flea vastly outstrips any thing animals of a greater magnitude are capable of; the motion of a mite is much quicker than that of the swiftest racehorse. M. De LIsle, Hist. Acad. Scienc. 1711. p. 23, has given the computation of the velocity of a little creature, so small as to be scarcely visible, which he found to run three inches in a second; supposing now its feet to be the fifteenth part of a line, it must make fivehundred steps in the space of three inches, that is, it must shift its legs fivehundred times in a second, or in the time of the ordinary pulsation of an artery. The rapidity with which many of the water insects skim the surface of the fluid, and others swim in it, is astonishing, nor is the celerity of the various species of animalcula infusoria less deserving of admiration. EDIT. Having thus given a general idea of the properties of animalcula, I now proceed to describe the various individuals, following the arrangements of O. F. Mller,121 and giving the discriminating characters by which he has distinguished them; abridging, enlarging, or altering the descriptions, to render them in some instances more exact, in others less tedious, and upon the whole, I hope, more interesting to the reader. 121 Mller Animalcula Infusoria, Fluviatilia, et Marina. A METHODICAL DIVISION OF THE ANIMALCULA INFUSORIA. I. THOSE THAT HAVE NO EXTERNAL ORGANS. 1. MONAS: punctiforme. A mere point. 2. PROTEUS: mutabile. Mutable, or changeable. 3. VOLVOX: sphricum. Spherical. 4. ENCHELIS: cylindraceum. Cylindrical. 5. VIBRIO: elongatum. Long. Membranaceous. 6. CYCLIDIUM: ovale. Oval. 7. PARAMCIUM: oblongum. Oblong. 8. KOLPODA: sinuatum. Crooked, or bent. 9. GONIUM: angulatum. With angles. 10. BURSARIA. Hollow like a purse. II. THOSE THAT HAVE EXTERNAL ORGANS. Naked, or not inclosed in a shell. 11. CERCARIA: caudatum. With a tail. 12. LEUCOPHRA: ciliatum undique. Every part ciliated. 13. TRICHODA: crinitum. Hairy. 14. KERONA: corniculatum. With horns. 15. HIMANTOPUS: cirratum. Cirrated, or curled. 16. VORTICELLA: ciliatum apice. The apex ciliated. Covered with a shell. 17. BRACHIONUS: ciliatum apice. The apex ciliated. I. MONAS. Vermis inconspicuus, simplissimus, pellucidus, punctiformis. An invisible,122 pellucid, simple, punctiform worm. 122 By invisible, we only mean that they are too small to be discerned by the naked eye. 1. MONAS TERMO. M. gelatinosa. Gelatinous mona. Animalcules semblable a des points. Spallanzani Opusc. Phys. I. Bull continuo motu. Bonanni Obs. p. 174. Among the various animalcula which are discovered by the microscope, this is the most minute, and the most simple; a small jellylike point, eluding the powers of the compound microscope, and being but imperfectly seen by the single; these, and some others of the mona kind, are so delicate and slender, that it is no wonder they often escape the sight of many who have examined infusions with attention; in a full light they totally disappear, their thin and transparent forms blending as it were with the water in which they swim. Small drops of infused water are often so full of these, that it is not easy to discover the least empty space, so that the water itself appears changed into another substance less transparent, but consisting of innumerable globular points, thick sown together; which, though full of life, seem only a kind of inflated bladders. In this a motion may be perceived, something similar to that which is observed when the suns rays shine on the water, the animalcula being violently agitated, or in a commotion like unto a hive of bees. They are very common in ditch water, and in almost all infusions, both of animal and vegetable substances. 2. MONAS ATOMUS. M. albida puncto, variabili instructa, Plate XXV. Fig. 1. White mona, with a variable point. This animalculum appears as a white point, which, when it is highly magnified, is somewhat of an eggshape; the smaller end is generally marked with a black point; the situation of this is sometimes varied, and found at the other end of the animalculum: sometimes two black points are to be seen crossing the middle of the body. It was found in sea water that had been kept the whole winter; it was not, however, very fetid; there were no other animalcula in the same water. 3. MONAS PUNCTUM. M. nigra. A black mona. A very minute point, solid, opake and black, round and long. They are dispersed in the infusion, and move with a slow wavering motion; were found in a fetid infusion of pears. 4. MONAS OCELLUS. M. hyalina puncto centrali notata. Transparent like talc, with a point in the middle. The margin black, and a black point in the middle; it moves irregularly, is found in ditches covered with conferva, and frequently with the cyclidium milium, see No. 84. 5. MONAS LENS. M. hyalina. Transparent mona of the appearance of talc. This is among the number of the smaller animalcula, nearly of a round figure, and so pellucid, that it is not possible to discover the least vestige of intestines. Though they may often be seen separate, yet they are more generally collected together, forming a kind of vesicular or membranaceous mass. Contrary to the custom of other animalcula, they seek the edges of the evaporating water, the consequence of which is almost immediate death. When the water is nearly evaporated, a few dark shades are perceived, probably occasioned by the wrinkling of the body. A slow tremulous motion, confined to one spot, may be perceived at intervals; this in a little time becomes more lively, and soon pervades the whole drop. Its motions are in general very quick: two united together may sometimes be seen swimming among the rest; while in this situation, they have been mistaken by some writers for a different species, whereas it is the same generating another by division. It is to be found in all water, though but seldom in that which is pure; they are in great plenty in the summer in ditch water, also in infusions of animal or vegetable substances, made either of fresh or salt water, myriads being contained in a drop; numbers of various sizes are to be found in the filth of the teeth.123 123 The circumstance of animalcula being found in the teeth is mentioned with confidence by various authors; some doubts may, however, still remain of the fact. Mr. Willughby detected a woman, who pretended to take worms out of the teeth with a quill, having forced the quill, from her just as she was putting it into his mouth, and found small worms in it; see Birchs History of the Royal Society, vol. iv. p. 387. I am inclined to think that the accounts usually met with in authors have no better foundation. It has also repeatedly happened, that ingenious men, from their anxiety for discovery, have imagined that objects have appeared to their view, which, having related as facts, themselves or others have afterwards found to be nothing more than a deceptio visus; and thus they have been, at least for a time, the unintentional promulgators of error; considerable caution is therefore necessary on these occasions, see p. 132, 133. Some authors, in support of a favourite system, have made bold assertions on the subject of animalcula; the smallpox, the measles, the epilepsy, c. have been attributed to them: Langius reduces all diseases in general to the same principle. A writer at Paris, who assumed the title of an English physician, has proceeded still farther; he not only accounts for all diseases, but for the operation of all medicines, from the hypothesis of animalcula. He has peculiar animals for every disorder; scorbutic animalcula, podagrical animalcula, variolous animalcula, c. all at his service. Journ. des Scav. tom. lxxxvii. p. 535, c. It is not at all surprising that the wonderful discoveries relating to animalcula should have been applied, however improperly, to support the most whimsical and chymerical systems. Most of the discoveries in natural philosophy have been subjected to similar abuses, and laid the foundation for the warm imaginations of some men to fabricate visionary theories; these have been of great prejudice to real science, the primary object and ultimate reward of which is the acquisition of truth. EDIT. The animalcula of this, and the first species are so numerous as to exceed all calculation, though they are contained in a very confined space. 6. MONAS MICA. M. circulo notata. Mona, marked with a circle. This lucid little point may be discovered with the third lens of the common single microscope; when the magnifying power is increased, it appears either of an oval or spherical figure, for it assumes each of these at pleasure. It is transparent, and has a small ellipse inscribed as it were within its circumference; this ellipse is moveable, being sometimes in the middle, sometimes a little towards the forepart, at others, nearer the hindpart. There is a considerable variety in its motions; it often turns round for a long time in the same place; an appearance like two kidneys may sometimes be perceived in the middle of the body, and the animalculum is beautifully encompassed with a kind of halo, arising most probably from invisible and vibrating fibrill. They are to be found in the purest waters. 7. MONAS TRANQUILLA. M. ovata, hyalina, margine nigro. Eggshaped, transparent mona, with a black margin. These animated points seem to be nearly fixed to one spot, where they have a fluctuating or reeling motion. They are frequently surrounded with a halo, and differ in their figure, being sometimes rather spherical, at others quadrangular. The black margin is not always to be found, and sometimes one would almost be tempted to think it had a tail. They are found in urine which has been kept for a time. The urine is covered, after it has remained in the vessel, with a darkcoloured pellicle or film, in which these animals live: although the urine was preserved for several months, no new animalcula were observed therein. It has been already shewn, that a drop of urine is in general fatal to other animalcula, yet we find in this instance, that there are animated beings of a peculiar kind, appropriated to, and living in it. 8. MONAS LAMELLULA. M. hyalina compressa. Flat transparent mona. This is mostly found in salt water. It is of a whitish colour, more than twice as long as it is broad, transparent, with a dark margin, the motion vacillatory; it often appears as if double. 9. MONAS PULVISCULUS. M. hyalina, margini virente. Transparent mona, with a green margin. Little spherical pellucid grains of different sizes, the circumference green, a green bent line passes through the middle of some, probably indicating that they are near separating or dividing into two distinct animalcula; sometimes three or four, at others, six, seven, or even more, are collected together. They rove about with a wavering motion; and are mostly found in the month of March in marshy grounds. 10. MONAS UVA. M. hyalina gregaria. Transparent gregarious mona. It is not easy to decide on the nature of these little assemblages of corpuscles, which sometimes consist of four, at others of five, and frequently of many more: the corpuscles are of different sizes, according to the number assembled in one group. When collected in a heap, the only motion they have is a kind of revolution or rotatory one. The smaller particles separate from the larger, often dividing into as many portions as there are constituent particles in the group; when separated, they revolve with incredible swiftness. To try whether this was a group of animalcula collected together by chance, or whether this was their natural state, the following experiment was made. A single corpuscle was taken the moment it was separated from the heap, and placed in a glass by itself; it soon increased in size, and when it had attained nearly the same bulk as the group from which it was separated, the surface began to assume a wrinkled appearance, which gradually changed till it became exactly similar to the parent group. This newformed group was again decomposed, like the preceding one, and in a little time the separated particles became as large as that from which they proceeded. It is found in a variety of infusions. II. PROTEUS. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, pellucidus, mutabilis. An invisible, very simple, pellucid worm, of a variable form. 11. PROTEUS DIFFLUENS. P. in ramulos diffluens, Plate XXV. Fig. 2 and 3. Proteus, branching itself out in a variety of directions. A very singular animalculum, appearing only as a grey mucous mass; it is filled with a number of black globules of different sizes, and is continually changing its figure. Being formed of a gelatinous pellucid substance, the shape is easily altered, and it pushes out branches of different lengths and breadths. The globules which are within divide and pass immediately into the new formed parts, always following the various changes of form in the animalcula. The changes that are observed in the form of this little creature, do not arise from any extraneous cause, but are entirely dependent on its internal powers. It is to be met with but very seldom; the indefatigable Mller only saw it twice, although he examined such an immense variety of infusions. It is to be found in fenny situations. 12. PROTEUS TENAX. P. in spiculum diffluens, Plate XXV. Fig. 4 and 5. Proteus, running out into a fine point. A gelatinous pellucid body, stored with black molecules; it changes its form like the preceding, but always in a regular order, first extending itself out in a straight line, Fig. 5, the lower part terminating in an acute bright point, a, without any intestines; and the globules being all collected in the upper part, c, it next draws the pointed end up towards the middle of the body, swelling it into a round form. The contraction goes on for some time, after which the lower part is swelled out as it is represented in Fig. 4, d; the point a, is afterwards projected from this ventricose part. It passes through five different forms before it arrives at that which is seen, at Fig. 4. It scarcely moves from one spot, only bending about sideways. It is to be found in river water. III. VOLVOX. Volvox inconspicuus, simplicissimus, pellucidus, sphricus. An invisible, very simple, pellucid, spherical worm. 13. VOLVOX PUNCTUM. V. sphricus, nigricans, puncto lucido. Spherical, of a black colour, with a lucid point. A small globule; one hemisphere is opake and black, the other has a pellucid crystalline appearance; a vehement motion is observable in the dark part. It moves in a tremulous manner, and often passes through the drop, turning round as if upon an axis. Many may be often seen joined together in their passage through, the water; they sometimes move as in a little whirlpool, and then separate. They are found in great numbers on the surface of fetid sea water. 14. VOLVOX GRANULUM. V. sphricus, viridis, peripheria hyalina. Spherical and green, the circumference of a bright colour. There seems to be a kind of green opake nucleus in this animalculum; the circumference is transparent. It is to be found generally in the month of June, in marshy places; it moves but slowly. 15. VOLVOX GLOBULUS. V. globosus; postice subobscurus. Globular volvox, the hindpart somewhat obscure. This globular animalculum is ten times larger than the monas lens; it verges sometimes a little towards the oval in its form. The intestines are just visible, and make the hinder part of the body appear opake; it has commonly a slow fluttering kind of motion, but if it be disturbed, the motion is more rapid. It is found in most infusions of vegetables. 16. VOLVOX PILULA. V. sphricus, interaneis immobilibus virescentibus. Small round volvox, with immoveable green intestines. This is a small transparent animalculum; its intestines are immoveable, of a green colour, and are placed near the middle of the body, the edges often yellow; a small obtuse incision may be discovered on the edge, which is, perhaps the mouth of the animalculum. This little creature appears to be encompassed with a kind of halo or circle. If this be occasioned by the vibratory motion of any fringe of hairs, they are invisible to the eye, even when assisted by the microscope. It seems to have a kind of rotatory motion, at one time slow, at another quick; and is to be found in water where the lemna minor, or least ducksmeat, grows, sometimes as late as the month of December. 17. VOLVOX GRANDINELLA. V. sphricus, opacus, interaneis immobilibus. Spherical and opake, with immoveable intestines. This is much smaller than the preceding, and is marked with several circular lines; no motion is to be perceived among the interior molecules. It sometimes moves about in a straight line, sometimes its course is irregular, at others it keeps in the same spot with a tremulous motion. 18. VOLVOX SOCIALIS. V. sphricus, moleculis crystallinis, qualibus distantibus. Spherical volvox, with crystalline molecules, placed at equal distances from one another. When very much magnified this animalculum seems to have some relation to the vorticella socialis, as seen with the naked eye. It consists of crystalline molecules, disposed in a sphere, and filling up the whole circumference; they are all of an equal size. Whether they are included in a common membrane, or whether they are united by one common stalk, as in the vorticella socialis, has not been discovered. We are also ignorant of the exact figure of the little particles of which it is composed; when a very large magnifying power is used, some black points may be discerned in the center of the crystalline molecules. The motion is sometimes rotatory, sometimes from right to left, and the contrary. It is found where the chara vulgaris has been kept. 19. VOLVOX SPHRICULA. V. sphricus, moleculis similaribus rotundis. Pl. XXV. Fig. 6. Spherical volvox, with round molecules. This spherule is formed of pellucid homogeneous points of different sizes. It moves slowly about a quarter of a circle from right to left, and then back again from left to right. 20. VOLVOX LUNULA. V. hemisphricus, moleculis similaribus lunatis. Plate XXV. Fig. 7. An hemispherical volvox, with lunular molecules. Is a small roundish transparent body, composed of innumerable molecules, homogeneous, pellucid, and of the shape of the moon in its first quarter, without any common margin. It is in a continual twofold motion; the one, of the whole mass turning slowly round; the other, of the molecules one among the other. They are found in marshy places in the beginning of spring. 21. VOLVOX GLOBATOR. V. sphricus membranaceus. Spherical membranaceous volvox. This is a transparent globule, of a greenish colour; the ftus is composed of smaller greenish globules. It becomes whiter and brighter with age, moves slowly round its axis, and may be perceived by the naked eye. But to the microscope the superficies of this pellucid membrane appears covered with molecules, as if it were granulated, which has occasioned some observers to imagine it to be hairy; the round pellucid molecules that are fixed in the center are generally largest in those that are young. The exterior molecules may be wiped off, leaving the membrane naked. When the young ones are of a proper size, the membrane opens, and they pass through the fissure; after this the mother melts away. They sometimes change their spherical figure, the superficies being flattened in different places. Most authors speak of finding eight lesser globules within the larger; but Mller says, that he has counted thirty or forty of different sizes. This wonderful capsulate situation of its progeny is well known; indeed it often exhibits itself big with children and grandchildren. Leeuwenhoeck was the first who noticed this curious animalculum, and depicted it; a circumstance which has not been mentioned by Baker and other microscopic writers, who have described it. It may be found in great plenty in stagnant waters in spring and summer, and in infusions of hempseed and tremella. Baker describes it as follows: This singular minute water animal, seen before the microscope, appears to be exactly globular, without either head, tail, or fins. It moves in all directions, forwards or backwards, up or down, rolling over and over like a bowl, spinning horizontally like a top, or gliding along smoothly without turning itself at all. Sometimes its motions are very slow, at other times very swift; and when it pleases, it can turn round as upon an axis very nimbly, without moving out of its place. The body is transparent, except where the circular spots are placed, which are probably its young. The surface of the body in some is as it were dotted all over with little points, and in others, as if granulated like shagreen. Baker thought also that in general it appeared as if it was set round with short moveable hairs. By another writer they are thus described: These animalcula are at first very small, but grow so large as to be discerned with the naked eye; they are of a yellowish green colour, globular figure, and in substance membranaceous and transparent. In the midst of this substance several small globes may be perceived; each of these are smaller animalcula, which have also their diaphanous membrane, and contain within themselves still smaller generations, which may be distinguished by the assistance of very powerful glasses. The larger globules may be seen to escape from the parent, and then increase in size, as has been already observed. 22. VOLVOX MORUM. V. membranaceus orbicularis, centro moleculis sphricis viridibus. Membranaceous orbicular, with spherical green molecules in the center. This animalculum has some resemblance to the volvox uva, but is sufficiently distinguished by the surrounding bright orbicular membrane: the middle part is full of clear green globules. The globules seldom move, though a quivering motion may sometimes be perceived at the center. It has a slow rotatory motion, and is found amongst the lemna, in the months of October and December. 23. VOLVOX UVA. V. globosus, moleculis sphricis virescentibus nudis. Globular volvox, composed of green spherical globules, which are not inclosed in a common membrane. This animalculum seems to be a kind of medium between the volvox pilula, No. 16, and the gonium pectorale, No. 114, being, like the one, composed of green spherules, and in form, resembling the other. It consists of a congeries of equal globules of a greenish colour, with a bright spot in the middle; the whole mass is sometimes of a spherical form, sometimes oval, without any common membrane; a kind of halo may be perceived round it, but whether this is occasioned by the motion of any invisible hairs has not been discovered. The mass generally moves from right to left, and from left to right; scarce any motion can be discovered in the globules themselves. It was found in the month of August, in water where the lemna polyrrhiza was growing. Two masses of these globules have been seen joined together. They contain from four to fifty of the globules, of which a solitary one may now and then be found. 24. VOLVOX VEGETANS. V. ramulis simplicibus et dichitomis, rosula globulari terminatis. A volvox with simple dichitomous branches, terminating in a little bunch of globules. It consists of a number of floccose opake branches, which are invisible to the naked eye; at the apex of these there is a little congeries of very minute oval pellucid corpuscles. Mller at first thought it to be a species of microscopic and river sertularia; but afterwards he found the bunches quitting the branches, and swimming about in the water with a proper spontaneous motion. Many old branches were found deserted of their globules, while the younger branches were furnished with them. It was found in river water in November 1779 and 1780. IV. ENCHELIS. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, cylindraceus. An invisible, simple, cylindric worm. 25. ENCHELIS VIRIDIS. E. subcylindrica, antice oblique truncata. Green enchelis, of a subcylindric figure, the forepart truncated. This is an opake green, subcylindric animalculum, with an obtuse tail, the forepart terminating in an acute truncated angle; the intestines obscure and indistinct. It is continually varying in its motion, turning from right to left. 26. ENCHELIS PUNCTIFERA. E. viridis, subcylindracea, antice obtusa, postice acuminata, Plate XXV. Fig. 8. Green enchelis, subcylindric, the forepart obtuse, the hinder part pointed. It is an opake animalculum, of a green colour; there is a small pellucid spot in the forepart a, in which two black points may be seen; a kind of double band, c c, crosses the middle of the body. The hinder part is pellucid and pointed; an incision is discovered at the apex of the forepart, which seems to be the mouth. When in motion, the whole of it appears opake and green. It is found in marshes. 27. ENCHELIS DESES. E. viridis, cylindrica, subacuminata gelatinosa. Green, cylindrical, gelatinous, the end somewhat pointed. The body is round, the colour a very dark green, so that it is quite opake; the forepart is bluntly rounded off, the hinderpart is somewhat tapering, but finishes with a rounded end. From its opacity, no internal parts can be discovered; there is a degree of transparency near the ends. It is exceeding idle, moving very slowly; to be found, though rarely, in an infusion of lemn. 28. ENCHELIS SIMILIS. E. obovato opaca, interaneis mobilibus. Enchelis, of an eggshape, opake with moveable intestines. It is an opake body, with a pellucid margin; both extremities are obtuse, but the upper one much more so than the under one; it is filled with moveable spherules. Its motion is generally quick, either to the right or the left; it is probably furnished with hairs, because, when moving rapidly, the margin appears striated. It is found in water that has been kept for months. 29. ENCHELIS SEROTINA. E. ovato cylindracea, interaneis immobilibus. Enchelis partly oval, partly cylindrical, the interior parts immoveable. An oval animalculum, round the forepart smaller than the hindpart, the margin of a black colour; it is replete with grey vesicular molecules, and moves slowly. 30. ENCHELIS NEBULOSA. E. ovatocylindracea, interaneis manifestis mobilibus. Oval and cylindric enchelis, with visible moveable intestines. The body is shaped like an egg, the forepart narrow, and often filled with opake confused intestines; in moving, it elevates the forepart of the body. It is found in the same water as the cyclidium glaucoma, No. 86, but is three times its size, and considerably more scarce. 31. ENCHELIS SEMINULUM. E. cylindracea qualis. Enchelis equally cylindric. It is a cylindrical animalculum, twice as long as it is broad, the fore and hindpart of the same size; the intestines in the forepart are pellucid, those in the hinderpart obscure. It moves by ascending and descending alternately. It may be seen sometimes swimming about with the extremities joined together. Found in water that has been kept for some days. 32. ENCHELIS INTERMEDIA. E. cylindracea, hyalina, margine nigricante. Cylindrical enchelis, transparent, with a blackish margin. This animalculum forms an intermediate kind between the monas punctum, the enchelis seminulum, and the cyclidium milium. It is one of the smallest among the animalcula. The body is transparent, it has no visible intestines, the fore and hindpart are of an equal size, the edge of a deeper colour than the rest of the body; a point is to be seen in the middle of some of them; in others, it is as if a line passed through the middle. 33. ENCHELIS OVULUM. E. cylindricoovato hyalina. Eggshaped transparent enchelis. A transparent, round, eggshaped animalculum; nothing is discovered withinside, even by the third magnifier; but, with an increased power, some long foldings may be seen on the superficies, and here and there a few bright molecules. 34. ENCHELIS PIRUM. E. inverse conica, postice hyalina. Pearform enchelis, the hinderpart transparent. This enchelis is lively and pellucid, the forepart is protuberant, and filled with molecules, the hinderpart smaller and empty; it has moveable molecular intestines. Its motion is rapid, passing backwards and forwards through the diameter of the drop. When at rest, it seems to have a little swelling, or tubercle, on the middle of the body. 35. ENCHELIS TREMULA. E. ovatocylindracea, gelatina. Oval enchelis, cylindrical, gelatinous. This is also to be placed amongst the most minute animalcula; the end of it is rather pointed, and has a tremulous motion; it almost induces one to think it has a tail. Two of these little creatures may at times be perceived to adhere together. It was found in an infusion with the paramcia aurelia, No. 93, and many other animalcula. 36. ENCHELIS CONSTRICTA. E. obovata, crystallina, medio coarctata. Suboval enchelis, crystalline, with a stricture in the middle. An animalculum of an oval shape, the middle part drawn in, as if a string was tied round it. It is of a very small size, and is found in salt water. 37. ENCHELIS PULVISCULUS. E. elliptica, interaneorum congerie viridi. Of an elliptic shape, with a congeries of green intestines. It is a round animalculum, pellucid, the forepart obtuse, the hindpart rather sharp, marked with green spots; myriads may sometimes be seen wandering about in one drop; it is found among the green matter on the sides of the vessels in which water has been kept for some time. 38. ENCHELIS FUSUS. E. cylindracea, utraque extremitate angustiore truncata. Cylindrical enchelis, both ends truncated. The body is round and transparent, the fore and hindpart smaller than the rest of the body, and equally so, the ends a little truncated. In the inside a long and somewhat winding intestine, a skycoloured bright fluid, and some black molecules transversely situated, may be discerned. The motions of this animalculum are languid; it was found in pure water. 39. ENCHELIS FRITILLUS. A cylindric enchelis, the forepart truncated. This is one of the most transparent animalcula; the hinderpart of an obtuse convexity, the forepart truncated. Mller suspects that there is a rotatory organ in the forepart. No intestines can be seen. It runs backwards and forwards through the drop in a diametrical line, with a wavering motion; sometimes turns round for a moment, but presently enters on its usual course. Is found in an infusion of grass and hay. 40. ENCHELIS CAUDATA. E. elongata, antice obtusa, postice in caudam hyalinam attenuata, Plate XXV. Fig. 9. Enchelis with a long body, the forepart obtuse, the hinderpart diminishing into a kind of tail. The body is of a grey colour, pellucid, with globular molecules divided from each other, and dispersed through the whole body; the forepart a, thick and obtuse, the hindpart b, crystalline and small, the end truncated. It is but seldom met with. 41. ENCHELIS EPISTOMIUM. E. cylindricoelongata, apice gracili subgloboso. Enchelis with a long cylindric body, the forepart slender and roundish. It is among the smaller animalcula, the body is cylindrical and bright, the hinderpart obtuse, the forepart smaller, and terminating in a globule; a black line may now and then be perceived down the middle of it. 42. ENCHELIS GEMMATA. E. cylindracea, serie globulorum duplici, in collum hyalinum producta. Enchelis with a cylindrical body, the upper part prolonged into a transparent neck, a double series of globules running down the body. Its motion is slow, and generally in a straight line; it is found in ditchwater where the lemna thrives. 43. ENCHELIS RETROGRADA. E. hyalina, antice angustata, apice globulari. Plate XXV. Fig. 11 and 12. Transparent enchelis, the forepart rather smaller, and terminating in a small globule. It has a gelatinous transparent body; no visible intestines, though a pellucid globule is discoverable near the hinderpart; the body is thickest in the middle, and grows smaller towards each end. It generally moves sideways, sometimes in a retrograde manner; and if it be obstructed in its motion, draws itself up, as it is represented at Fig. 11. 44. ENCHELIS FESTINANS. E. cylindrica oblonga, obtusa, antice hyalina. Oblong cylindrical enchelis; the ends obtuse, the forepart transparent. The body is round, of an equal size throughout, and both ends obtuse; more than half the length is without any visible intestines, the lower end full of vesicular, pellucid, minute globules; a large globular vesicle is also to be found in the forepart; it moves quickly from one side to the other, in a reeling or staggering manner. It was found in sea water. 45. ENCHELIS FARCIMEN. E. cylindracea curvata utrinque truncata. A cylindric enchelis, crooked and truncated at both ends. The body of this is cylindrical, about four times as long as broad, even, truncated at both ends, the intestines opake, and not to be distinguished from one another; it turns the extremities opposite ways, so as to form the figure of an S. It is to be found in water that has stood for some time, though but seldom. Joblot found it in an infusion of corn centaury or bluebottle; it moves in an undulatory manner, but very slowly. 46. ENCHELIS INDEX. E. inverse conica, apicis altero angulo producto. Enchelis in the form of an inverted cone, one edge of the apex produced out so as to form an angle with the other part. The body rather opake, of a grey colour, and of a long conical figure; the lower end obtuse, the forepart thick, one side of this part projecting like a finger from the edge; two very small projections proceed also sometimes from the lower end. This animalculum has the power of retracting these projections, and making both ends appear obtuse. It moves about but slowly, and was found in water with the lemna minor, or least ducksmeat. 47. ENCHELIS TRUNCUS. E. cylindrica, subcapitata. Plate XXV. Fig. 10. Cylindrical enchelis with a kind of head. This is the largest of this kind of animalcula; the body is cylindrical, mucose, grey, long and rather opake, the forepart globular, the hindpart obtuse. Something like threeteeth, c, may be sometimes seen to proceed from one of the sides; it can alter its shape considerably. Globules of different sizes may be seen within the body. It rolls about slowly from right to left. 48. ENCHELIS LARVA. E. elongata, medio papillula utrinque notata. A long enchelis, with two little nipples projecting from the middle of the body, one on each side. It is long, round, and filled with grey molecules; the forepart is obtuse and pellucid; a kind of neck or small contraction is formed at some little distance from this end. The lower part pointed; about the middle of the body there are two small projections. 49. ENCHELIS SPATULA. E. cylindrica striata, apice hyalino spatulata. A cylindrical striated enchelis, the forepart transparent, and of the shape of a spatula. This animalculum is perfectly cylindrical, very pellucid, of a crystalline appearance; it is marked with very fine longitudinal furrows, and has generally two transparent globules, one placed below the middle, the other near the extremity of the body; on the other side are five smaller ones, which are oval. The top is dilated, with the corners rounded like the spatula, or instrument for spreading plaisters. It has a wavering kind of motion, folding the spatula variously, yet retaining its general form. Mller mentions his seeing it once draw the spatula into the body, and keep it there for two hours, when it again appeared. 50. EXCHELIS PUPULA. A cylindric enchelis, the forepart papillary. The forepart is protuberantly round, and rather opake, the hindpart pellucid, both extremities obtuse, furnished with a papillary fingershaped head, the hinder part marked with a transparent circle, or circular aperture. The forepart filled up with moveable molecules, which are more scarce in the hinderpart. It has a rotatory motion on a longitudinal axis, and moves through the water in an oblique direction. It is to be found in dunghill water in November and December. 51. ENCHELIS PUPA. E. ventricoso cylindrica, apice in papillam producta. Enchelis forming a kind of ventricose cylinder, with a small nipple proceeding from the apex. It is not unlike the preceding animalculum, but is much larger; the anterior end not so obtuse, the nipple gradually formed from the forepart, all but this end is opake, and filled with obscure particles: it has no transparent circle, as was observed in the enchelis pupula. Its motion is exceeding slow. V. VIBRIO. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, teres, elongatus. An invisible worm, very simple, round, and rather long. 52. VIBRIO LINEOLA. V. linearis minutissimus. Very small linear vibrio. This is one of the most minute animalcula, surpassing in slenderness the monas termo, No. 1. The greatest magnifier exhibits little more than a tremulous motion of myriads of little oblong obscure points. In a few days it almost fills the whole substance of the water in vegetable infusions. 53. VIBRIO RUGULA. V. linearis flexuosus. Vibrio like a bent line. Myriads of this species may be found; it is between the vibrio lineola, just described, and the vibrio undula, No. 55. It appears as a little line, which is sometimes drawn up in an undulated shape, and moves backwards and forwards in a straight line, often without bending the body at all. 54. VIBRIO BACILLUS. V. linearis, qualis utrinque truncata. Linear vibrio, equally truncated at both ends. This is an exceeding small creature, but visible with the third lens; in a certain position of the light, transparent. It is gelatinous, and not half so large as the monas lens, No. 5, though six, and sometimes ten times longer; it is everywhere of an equal size, and has no visible intestines; its action is languid, the serpentine flexures of the body are with great difficulty perceived. Mller made two infusions of hay in the same water, and at the same time, in the one he put the hay whole, in the other it was cut in small pieces; in the first there were none of the vibrio bacillus, but many of the monas lens and kolpoda cucullus, No. 108; in the latter, many of the vibrio bacillus, and few of the mon. 55. VIBRIO UNDULA. V. filiformis flexuosus. A filiform flexuous vibrio. A perfect undulating little line, round, gelatinous, without any visible intestines. It is never straight; when at rest it resembles the letter V, when in motion the letter M, or a bending line like that which geese form in their flight through the air; its motions are so rapid, that the eye can scarce follow them. It generally rests upon the top of the water, sometimes it fixes itself obliquely by one extremity, and whirls itself round. This is the little creature that Leeuwenhoeck says exceeds in slenderness the tail of the animalculum seminale, which he has described in Fig. 5, Epis. Phys. 41, being an hundred times less than a mustardseed, and on which he makes the following very just observation: That as these very small animalcula can contract and variously fold their little tails, we must conclude that tendons and muscles are as necessary to them as to other animals; if to these we add the organs of sensation, and those of the intestines, the mind is lost in the astonishment which arises from the impression of infinite, in the indefinitely small. 56. VIBRIO SERPENS. V. filiformis, ambagibus in angulum obtusum productis. A filiform vibrio, the windings or flexures obtuse. A slender gelatinous little animal, in the form of a long serpentine line, all the bendings being nearly equal in size, and at equal distances; it generally moves in a straight line; an intestine may be discovered down the middle. It is to be found in river water, but is not commonly to be met with. 57. VIBRIO SPIRILLUM. V. filiformis, ambagibus in angulum acutum tornatis. Filiform vibrio, twisted something like a spiral wire or corkscrew, the bending acute. It is an exceeding minute, singular creature, twisted in a spiral form; the shape of these bendings remains the same even when the animal is in motion, not occasioned by any internal force, but are its natural shape. It moves generally in a straight line, vibrating the hind and foreparts. It was found in 1782, in an infusion of the sonchus arvensis, or corn sowthistle. 58. VIBRIO VERMICULUS. V. tortuosus gelatinus. This little vibrio is twisted and gelatinous. The body is white, or rather of a milky appearance, cylindric, long, the apex obtuse, rather growing smaller, and twisted towards the hindpart. Its motion is languid and undulatory, like that of the common worm; it sometimes moves quicker, but with seeming labour. When it bends itself alternately from one side to the other, a black long line may be discovered, sometimes whole, sometimes broken: when at rest, it occasionally twists into various folds. It may be observed easily with the first lens of the single microscope, and is probably the same animalculum mentioned by Leeuwenhoeck in all his works, as found in the dung of frogs, and in the spawn of the male libellula. It is to be found in marshy water in November, though but seldom. 59. VIBRIO INTESTINUM. V. gelatinosus, teres, antice angustatus. This vibrio is gelatinous, round, the forepart small. It is cylindric, milkcoloured, and slender towards the top, both ends obtuse; no traces of intestines to be discovered, though four or five spherical eggs are perceived at the extremity of the hindpart. It can draw the forepart so much inwards as to give it a truncated and dilated appearance, something like a spatula. Its motion is slow and progressive. It is found in marshy waters. 60. VIBRIO BIPUNCTATUS. V. linearis, qualis, utraque extremitate truncata, globulis binis mediis. Linear vibrio, of an equal size throughout, both ends truncated, and two small globules in the middle of the body. It is of a small size, and rather less than the following animalculum; the body is of a pellucid talclike appearance, the fore and hindpart truncated; in the middle are two (sometimes there is only one) pellucid globules, placed lengthwise. It most commonly moves forward in a straight line; its movements are slow. It was found in fetid salt water. 61. VIBRIO TRIPUNCTATUS. V. linearis, utrinque attenuatus, globulis tribus, extremis minoribus. Linear vibrio, both the ends smaller than the middle, furnished with three globular points, the two which are at the extremities being smaller than that at the middle. The body is pellucid, talky, each of the ends rather tapering, furnished with three pellucid globules, the middle one is the largest; the space between these globules is generally filled with a green matter; in some there is nothing of the green substance near the extremities, but only about the middle. It seldom moves far, and then its motion is rectilinear, backwards and forwards. 62. VIBRIO PAXILIFER. V. flavescens paleis gregariis multifariam ordinatis. Plate XXV. Fig. 13, 14, 15. Yellow, gregarious, strawlike vibrio. This is a wonderful animalculum, or rather a congeries of animalcula. It is invisible to the naked eye, and consists of a transparent membrane, with yellow intestines, and two or three visible points; they are generally found collected together in different parcels, from seven to forty in number, and ranged in a variety of forms, sometimes in a straight line, as in Fig. 14, then forming the concave Figure 13, at others, moving in a zigzag direction, as in Fig. 15; when at rest they are generally in a quadrangular form, and found in great plenty with the ulva latissima, or brown laver. As this animalculum seems to have some affinity with the hairlike animal of Baker, I think the reader will be better pleased to see his description of it introduced in this place, than to have it raised into a new and distinct species. This little animal is extremely slender, and not uncommonly onehundred and fifty times longer than broad. Its resemblance to an hair induced Baker to call it the hairlike insect. The body or middle part, which is nearly straight, appears in some composed of such parallel rings as the windpipe of land animals consists of, but seems in others scaled, or rather made up of rings that obliquely cross each other. Its two ends are bent or hooked, pretty nearly in the same degree, but in a direction contrary each to the other; and as no eyes can be discerned, it is difficult to judge which is the head or tail. Its progressive motion differs from that of all animals hitherto described; for, notwithstanding the body is composed of many rings and joints, it seems unable to bend them, or move directly forwards; but when it is inclinable to change its quarters, it can move from right to left, or left to right, and proceed at the same time backwards or forwards obliquely; and this it performs by turning upon one end as a center, and describing with the other the quarter of a circle; then it does the same with the other end, and so alternately; whereby its progression is in a diagonal line, or from corner to corner. Of this any one may immediately be satisfied, who will take the trouble of shifting the points of a pair of compasses in that manner. All its motions are extremely slow, and require much patience and attention in the observer. It has neither feet, fins, nor hairs, but appears perfectly smooth and transparent, with the head bending one way, and the tail another, so as to be like a long Italic S; nor is any internal motion, or particularly opake part, to be perceived, which may determine one to suppose it either the stomach, or the intestines. These creatures are so small, that millions of millions might be contained in an inch square. When viewed singly, or separated from one another, they are exceedingly transparent, and of a lovely green; but, like all other transparent bodies, when numbers of them are brought together they become opake, and lose their green colour in proportion as the quantity increases, till at last they appear entirely black. Notwithstanding the extreme minuteness of these animalcula, they seem to be fond of society; for, on viewing for some time a parcel of them taken up at random, they will be seen to disperse themselves in a kind of regular order. If a multitude of them be put into a jar of water, they will form themselves into a regular body, and ascend slowly to the top, where, after they have remained some time exposed to the air, their green colour changes to a beautiful skyblue. When they are weary of this situation, they form themselves into a kind of rope, which slowly descends as low as they intend. A small quantity of the substance containing these creatures having been put into a jar of water, it so happened, that one part descended immediately to the bottom, the other continuing to float on the surface. After some time, each of these swarms of animalcula exhibited a disposition to change its quarters. Both armies, therefore, set out at the same time, the one proceeding upwards, and the other downwards; so that after some hours journey they met in the middle. A desire of knowing how they would conduct themselves on this occasion, engaged the observer to watch them carefully; and to his surprize, he saw the army that was marching upwards open to the right and left, to make room for those that were descending. Thus without confusion or intermixture each held on its way, the ascending army marching in two columns to the top, and the other proceeding in one column to the bottom, as if each had been under the direction of wise leaders. 63. VIBRIO LUNULA. V. arcuatus, utraque extremitate quali. Plate XXV. Fig. 16. Bowshaped vibrio, both ends of an equal size. The body resembles much the shape of the moon at the first quarter; it is of a green colour, and has generally from seven to ten globules disposed lengthwise; the smaller ones are of a very pale colour, a pale green vacuity may sometimes be seen in the middle: some little varieties may be observed amongst them, which are not easily to be described; it will be enough to have given the reader their general and distinguishing characteristics. 64. VIBRIO VERMINUS. V. linearis compressus, antice quam postice angustior. Linear compressed vibrio, the forepart narrower than the hindpart. A round transparent animalculum, or rather a long crystalline membrane, the hindpart broader than the forepart, the apex subtruncated, the base obtuse, no perceptible intestines; in the middle are two spherical vesicules, and a third towards the lower edge. It moves quickly backwards and forwards with an undulatory motion; they seem to be joined in a very singular manner, and were found in great plenty in salt water that had been kept several days, till it became fetid. 65. VIBRIO MALLUS. V. linearis basi globuli, apice linea transversa. A linear vibrio, with a globule at the base, and transverse line at the apex. This is a white pellucid animalculum, resembling the letter T, with a globule affixed to the base. It is in motion and at rest every moment alternately; in the former case, it resembles the letter V; in the latter, the letter T. They are found plentifully in spring water. 66. VIBRIO ACUS. V. linearis, colli, apice obtuso, cauda setacea. Linear vibrio, with a neck, the upper extremity obtuse, the lower one terminating in a setaceous tail. This vibrio is of the shape of a sewing needle; the neck round, partly transparent, and marked in the middle with a red point; the trunk cylindrical, the edges obscure, the middle bright, and nearly of a triangular appearance, the tail resembling a fine bristle. A motion may be observed in the inside of this little creature. It does not bend the body when in motion. 67. VIBRIO SAGITTA. V. sublinearis, colli, apice truncato atro, cauda setacea. Somewhat linear in its appearance, a wellmarked neck, the apex truncated and open, the tail setaceous. The body is very long and flexible, broadest towards the middle, which is also filled with grey molecules; the forepart is drawn out into a straight transparent neck, the upper end of it thick and black. The motion of this animalculum seems to be produced by the contraction and extension of the neck. It is found in salt water. 68. VIBRIO GORDIUS. V. qualis, caud apice tuberculato. Vibrio of an equal size throughout, the tail terminated by a little tubercle. A round animalculum; the forepart for about onesixth of the whole length is transparent, and furnished with a skycoloured alimentary tube; the lower part is bright and pointed, the middle full of small globules; a small knob terminates the tail. Found in an infusion made with salt water. 69. VIBRIO SERPENTULUS. V. qualis utrinque subacuminatus. This vibrio is of an equal size, rather pointed at both ends. It is very similar to the vibrio anguillula, No. 71, differing principally in the shape of the ends, which in this are furnished with a long row of the most minute points. It does not adhere to objects by the pointed tail. The body is of a whitish colour, frequently convoluted, and drawn into different figures. Its motion is serpentine, sometimes to be met with perfectly straight and still, and is found in infusions of vegetables after some weeks standing. 70. VIBRIO COLUBER. V. filiformis, seta caudali geneculata. Filiform vibrio, the tail setaceous, and bending up nearly to form a right angle with the body. In this vibrio, the mouth, the oesophagus, the molecules in the intestines, and the twisting of them, are very conspicuous. The tail is exceeding small, and bent so as to form a considerable angle with the body. It is found in river water. 71. VIBRIO ANGUILLULA. V. qualis, subrigidus. Vibrio of an equal size throughout, and somewhat hard. This animalculum may be divided into four varieties, if not distinct species: namely, 1. Anguillula aceti. 2. Anguillula glutinis farinosi. 3. Anguillula aqu dulcis; and 4. Anguillula aqu marin. These varieties I shall first describe, together with the eels in blighted wheat, and then proceed with the rest of the vibrio. 1. ANGUILLULA ACETI, OR VINEGAR EEL. Plate XI. Fig. 7. Chaos redivivum, Linn. Syst. Nat. 1326.124 Leeuwenhoeck Opera Omn. p. 3, n. 1, f, l, o. Joblot Observ. Micros. 1, p. 2, pl. 2. Hookes Micrograph, p. 216, pl. 25, fig. 3. Borelli Observ. Micros. 1, p. 7. Powers Micros. Observ. p. 32. Adams Micrograph. Illustr. 4th edition, p. 125, pl. 38, fig. 197, A, B, C, D. Rozier Journal Physique, Mars 1775, Janv.  Mars 1776. Spallanzani Opusc. Phys. part 1, p. 83. 124 Linnus includes this and the paste eel under the same title:Habitat in aceto et glutine bibliopegorum. He adds,Reviviscit ex aqua per annos exsiccatum. EDIT. This eel is both oviparous and viviparous; it is filiform, but in other respects differs considerably from the paste eel. It is longer, not near so large, the tail is smaller and more tapering; it moves with much greater ease, and is more lively. In the tail of this eel we may observe in miniature, what may be seen on a much larger scale in that of the viper, viz. a small projection somewhat resembling a tongue, which occasionally appears as delineated in the figure at a b, and at other times adheres close to the body. An alimentary duct may be easily discovered, but no other intestines can be discerned, without deranging altogether the organization of the animalculum. The pungent taste of vinegar was formerly attributed to these animalcula, an opinion which was soon exploded. 2. ANGUILLULA GLUTINIS FARINOSI, OR PASTE EEL. Plate XI. Fig. 6, 8, 9, and 10. Chaos redivivum, Linn. Syst. Nat. 1326. Ledermller Micros. Ergtzungen, p. 33, tab. 17. Baker Micros. made easy, p. 81. Ibid. Empl. for the Micros. p. 244, pl. 10, no. 8 and 9. Rozier Journal Physique, Mars 1775, Mars 1776. Adams Micrograph. Illustr. 4th edition, p. 125, pl. 38, fig. 179. The eels in paste have been more distinguished than most other animalcula, as well on account of their many curious properties, as the various speculations and theories to which they have given rise. Four different species of eels may be found in paste; of the first, I shall now give a particular description. The body is filiform or like a thread, round, pellucid, replete with little grains in the middle, both extremities very pellucid and empty, the forepart a little truncated, the hindpart terminating in a very short bristly point. It is the same of every age and size. To be certain of procuring this species of eels, boil some flower in water, to which you have added a few drops of vinegar; provide an earthen pot which has an hole at the bottom, and fill it with earth; then put the paste in a piece of coarse cloth, and bury it in this earth; the pot is to be exposed to the sun in the summer, or kept in a warm place in the winter; by these means in ten or twelve days you will very seldom fail of finding a large quantity of eels in the paste. This eel, when at its full growth, is about onetenth of an inch long, and rather less than onehundredth of an inch in diameter. Fig. 6 represents one of these eels magnified about onehundred and twenty times, only compressed so much between two plates, by means of an adjusting screw, as not only to prevent it from moving, but to lengthen and flatten it in a small degree. At the upper part there are two little moveable pieces or nipples, a a, between which an empty space b is formed, that terminates in the mouth; the hinderpart is round, but there projects from it a short setaceous tail w; in the young eels the termination of the tail is not so abrupt as in the present specimen, but it finishes by a gradual diminution. There is probably a vent near z, for the passage of the excrements; because when that part has been gently pressed, two or three jets of a very subtile substance have been observed to issue from it. If the pressure be increased, a small bladder will be forced out, a further compression bursts the bladder, and the intestines are forced through the opening. A greater degree of magnifying power is necessary to obtain an exact idea of the viscera of these eels. Fig. 10 represents the alimentary duct further magnified, from its origin to the belly. It is shewn here as separated from the animal, which is easily effected; for nature, assisted by very little art, performs the operation. The oesophagus, b c; Fig. 6 and 10, at its origin a a, is very small, but soon grows larger, as at c, and forms a kind of oblong bag, c d; the diameter of this increases till it comes to d, where it swells out as at d e f; it then grows smaller till it comes to g, when it again swells out at g k l. The part k l is the stomach. M. Becli has shewn, that the alimentary duct of many species of worms is formed of two bags, one of which is inclosed within the other. It is the same with this animalculum; the little vessel b c, that we have called the oesophagus, which is the origin of the bag c d, enters into the same bag, and preserves its form within it till it comes to m, from whence it is prolonged in the form of a black line m n, which passes by the axis of the duct e, and apparently terminates itself at the beginning of the abdomen l. To this tube, near the center of the swelling g k l, are fixed two small transparent bodies; that end of these which is connected with the tube is round, the other end is pointed; these small pieces cannot be discerned in every position of the eel. I shall now shew how this duct is to be forced out of the eel. The body, when compressed, generally bursts either at the head or tail, and always at that part which is least pressed; hence when the mass of fluids contained in the body is forced towards the anterior part, they meet with a resistance in passing from the abdomen to the duct already described; the abdomen, being forced by the fluids which are made to act against it, bursts at the upper end, and the fluids, striking against the neck, force it, with all its contents, out of the body, through an opening at the anterior part; on lessening the pressure, the intestine thus discharged will float in the water between the two plates of glass. Not to enter into a detail of those parts which have been supposed by some writers to constitute the heart, c. of these minute animalcula, it will be sufficient here to describe those in which motion may be discovered, and to leave the rest to future observations on the subject. The parts which may be seen in motion within these minute creatures are, 1. the small tube or duct, from its origin at m, to the two appendages; 2. these appendages themselves, h; 3. the remainder of the tube, from the appendages to the insertion at the ventricle k; 4. in the swelling g k l. The rest of this duct, from the beginning by the oesophagus b c, to the second swelling, has no motion. There is a variety in the motions of the first part of this duct, sometimes it dilates and contracts, at other times it has an oscillatory motion. It is difficult to gain a good view of the appendages; but when the position of the little creature is favourable, they seem to have a twofold motion, by which the pointed ends approach to, and then separate from, each other, and another by which they move up and down. The part g k l moves backwards and forwards alternately; the motion of each of these parts is independent of the rest. These are the principal parts, whose motion is connected with the life of the animal. The other viscera that are contained in the body of the eel, and which may be observed by the aid of the microscope, are, the vessels which contain the food, those which are filled with a transparent substance, and the womb or ovary. The first form the abdomen and intestines; these are filled with a black substance, which prevents their being properly and clearly distinguished; these vessels, in their passage through the posterior part of the body, form an empty space, in which we may perceive that one side of the animalculum is occupied by the ovary q q q, which runs from j to u x; it is at these two extremities of the ovaries that the eggs begin to be formed, for the largest eggs are always to be found in the middle, and the smallest at the ends, as may be seen at j f and u x. All the eels which bear eggs have two protuberances, y y, formed on the exterior part near the center of the ovary; it appears like a transparent semicircular membrane, but is really a kind of hernia or bag, in which one or two eggs may be sometimes seen; all the larger eels have this appendage, which also bears the marks of having been burst. Now, as the younger eels have not this appendage, nor any marks of a rupture, we may reasonably conclude that it is from hence that the little eels issue from the parent. In the latter part of the year, and during the winter, these eels are oviparous, and the young eels may be seen to proceed from the egg; at other times they are viviparous; six live eels have been seen at one time in the belly of the parent, twentytwo eggs have been counted in the ovary. Mller suspected that there was a difference of sex in some of these animalcula, but it was left to M. Roffredi to afford the proof, and it was only from a variety of repeated observations that he could allow himself to be convinced of this truth. He continued his researches upon the same subject on other microscopic eels, and has since been able to distinguish the sexual parts of the vinegar eels. The second species of paste eel is oviparous. It is easily distinguished from the first kind by being much smaller; in Fig. 8, is exhibited a magnified view of this eel. The conformation of the alimentary duct and the intestines are in general nearly the same, though an intelligent observer will find out some specific differences. By the flexion of the intestines c c c, a void space is left a little beyond the middle of the body, where the ovary, d d, is situated. There is no exterior protuberance near this ovary, as in the preceding one. We meet with another eel in paste, which may with propriety be called the common eel. It is often to be found in grains placed in the earth, in which the germ is destroyed, in the roots and stems of farinaceous plants, in the tremella of Adanson, and in several species of conferva, as well as in several infusions. This eel, when at its full growth is rather longer than the common eel of blighted wheat; one of them is represented at Fig. 11. They are easily distinguished from the eels of blighted wheat, because they have no ranges of globules like it, by the two little protuberances which are near the middle of the body, and by the regular diminution of the tail. It is oviparous. A very small species, represented at Fig. 9, may also be found in paste; they may be distinguished from the young eels of the larger sort by their vivacity and slenderness. As the eels in paste are objects which are so often exhibited in the microscope, it will be proper, before we leave this subject, to inform the reader how he may procure the young eels from the parent animalcula; a discovery which was originally made by Mr. Sherwood, but more particularly pursued and described by Baker. Take up a very small quantity of paste where these eels abound on the point of a pin, or with a sharpened quill; lay it on a slip of glass, and dilute it well with water; by these means, many of them will become visible to the naked eye; then with the nib of a pen cut to a very fine point, and shaved so thin as to be extremely pliable, single out one of the largest eels, and insinuate the point of the pen underneath it; remove it into a very small drop of water, which you must have ready prepared on another slip of glass. When thus confined, it may easily be cut asunder transversely, by the help of a good eye and steady hand, with a lancet or sharp penknife; or if the eye be deficient, a handmagnifier will enable almost any person to perform the operation. As soon as the parts are separated, apply your object to the microscope, and if the division has been made about the middle of the animal, several oval bodies of different sizes will be seen to issue forth. These are young anguillul of different degrees of maturity, each of which is coiled up, and included in its proper membrane, of so exquisite a fineness, as to be scarce discernible by the greatest magnifier while it incloses the embryo animal. The largest and most forward break immediately through this delicate integument, unfold themselves, and wriggle about nimbly in the water; others get out, uncoil, and move about more slowly; and the least mature continue entirely without motion. The uterus or vessel that contains all these oval bodies is composed of many annula or ringlets, not unlike the aspera arteria of land animals, and it seems to be considerably elastic; for as soon as the operation is performed, the oval bodies are thrust out with some degree of violence by the spring or action of this bowel. An hundred or upwards of young ones have been seen to issue from one single eel, whereby the prodigious increase of them may be accounted for, as probably several such numerous generations are produced in a short time. Hereby we also learn that these creatures are not only like eels in shape, but are likewise viviparous, as eels are generally supposed to be. Few experiments are to be found more entertaining, or in which there is so little risk of being disappointed; for they seem, like earthworms, to be all prolific, and you may be sure of success, unless by accident you cut one that has already brought forth all its young, or make your trials when the paste has been kept a very long time, in which cases they have been found unfruitful. 3. ANGUILLULA AQU DULCIS, OR FRESH WATER EEL. Corculum vermiculo simile, Linn. Amn. (Mund. Invis.) Anguille Vulgaire, Rozier Journal Physique, 1775. Mars, Nov. 1776. Ibid. Anguille du Bled Rachitique. Ibid. Anguille du Faux Ergot. Spallanz. Opusc. Phys. part 2, p. 354, pl. 5, fig. 10. The body of this is exceedingly transparent, with no visible entrails, though a few transverse lines may be discovered on the body. It is sometimes, though rarely, furnished with a long row of little globules, and often with two small oval ones; the tail terminates in a point. Mller says he found these eels in the sediment which is formed by vegetables on the sides of vessels in which water had been kept for some time. 4. ANGUILLULA AQU MARIN, OR SALT WATER EEL. This, when pressed between two plates of glass, appears to be little more than a crystalline skin, with a kind of claycoloured intestines. The forepart of the body is truncated, the lower part drawn out to a fine point, the rest of the body is of an equal size throughout. The younger ones are filled with pellucid molecular intestines. OF THE EELS IN BLIGHTED WHEAT. Plate XI. Fig. 4 and 5. These animalcula were discovered by Needham, and described by him in a work entitled, New Microscopical Discoveries, and afterwards more fully treated upon by Baker. They are not lodged in those blighted, grains which are covered externally with a sootlike dust, whose inside is often also little more than a black powder; but abundance of ears may be observed in some fields of corn, which have grains that appear blackish, as if scorched: these, when opened, are found to contain a soft white substance, that when attentively examined looks like a congeries of threads or fibres lying as close as possible to each other in a parallel direction, and much resembling the unripe down of some thistles. This fibrous matter does not discover any signs of life or motion, unless water be applied to it; the fibres then separate, and prove themselves to be living creatures. These eels are in general of a large size, and may be seen with a common magnifying glass, being about onethirtieth of an inch in length, and onehundred and fortieth broad. Fig. 5 represents one of them magnified about onehundred and twenty times; they are in general of a bright chesnut colour, the extremity a b is whiter and more transparent than the rest of the body. The end a is rather round, the end c is pointed. A distinguishing mark of these little creatures is a row of transparent globules, which are placed at intervals through the whole length of the body, beginning at b, where the transparency of the forepart ceases, and going on towards the extremity c. They are in diameter rather less than onethird of the body. Another peculiar mark is a small lunular space d, near the middle of the body. This part is transparent, and is free from the coloured matter of the intestines; there is a neck in the intestines near this space, which confines them to one part of the body. Great care should be taken by the observer, not to burst the skin of the eels in disengaging them from the grain, for they never break or burst of themselves; but if broke, visible intestines, filled with a black matter, rush out of the body, from which little black globules are disengaged; if the observation be made immediately after these globules proceed from the eel, they swim slowly about the water, though divested of any principle of internal motion; but if the eels that are broke be left long in the water, the same phnomena will take place, as in other animal and vegetable infusions. The want of due attention to these circumstances has been productive of many of the fanciful positions of Needham, which were deduced from illconducted experiments; and, consequently, when properly examined, are found to be in a great measure false. M. Roffredi sowed some of the grains of this wheat, which sprang up; but the ear was either wholly or in a great measure spoiled, being filled with these eels. He also found them in other parts of the plant; in order to disengage them, the plant must be soaked in water, and then compressed a little. At first sight these eels seem to resemble the foregoing, but a more accurate inspection shews that they have neither the same curious disposition of the internal globules, nor the transparent place in the middle of the body. The intestinal bag leaves indeed in these an empty space, but it is of an undetermined form. The animalcula from the plant are much more lively than those which are procured from the dried grains. The principal phnomena in this kind of blighted wheat is probably owing to these animalcula, who prevent the regular circulation of the sap. They increase in size in a certain proportion to the plant, so that at last they may be observed with great ease by the naked eye, being twotenths of an inch long, and nearly onetenth in diameter. Fig. 4 represents one of these magnified nearly in the same proportion as Fig. 5; a a a a, the ovary, which may be traced almost from the lower extremity to the middle of the body, where the body becomes so opake as to prevent its being seen any further. The eggs, when arrived at their full growth, are nearly of a cylindric shape, both ends rounded; towards the extremity b there are two little protuberances d d, through which the eggs are most probably extruded; these protuberances are not always visible. The eggs are formed of a fine transparent membrane; it covers the young eel, which is folded curiously therein; these eggs may be frequently found in the plant. A most satisfactory view of these eels is obtained by examining them with the solar microscope; it affords one of the most surprizing and magnificent spectacles; two generations may be often seen, one, which draws near the allotted period of its existence, and another which only begins to enjoy the blessings of life: some arrived at their full growth, and others quite small. In some we may perceive the young animalcula in motion in the eggs, in others, no such motion can be observed; with a variety of other circumstances too tedious to enumerate, though they afford great pleasure to the spectator. One of the most remarkable circumstances in these animalcula is the faculty they have of receiving again the powers of life, after having lost them for a considerable time; for instance, when some of these blighted grains, that have been preserved for many years, have been soaked in water for ten or twelve hours, living eels of this species have been found in it; if the water evaporate, or begin to fail, they cease to move, but, on a fresh application, will be again revived.125 125 The property of revivification is not confined to this species, being common to other kinds of worms, and it is not improbable that the hydr may possess the same faculty. EDIT. It may be proper to notice here, that according to the observations of Roffredi, those eels which have done laying of eggs are incapable of being resuscitated upon being moistened; the same seems to be also the case with those that are very young; it is probable they must attain a certain age and degree of strength before they are endowed with this wonderful faculty. In the month of August, 1743, a small parcel of blighted wheat was sent by Mr. Needham to Martin Folkes, Esq. President of the Royal Society, with an account of his then new discovery; which parcel the president was pleased to give to Mr. Baker, desiring him to examine it carefully. In order so to do, he cut open some of the grains that were become dry, took out the fibrous matter, and applied water to it on a slip of glass, but could discern no other motion than a separation of the fibres or threads, which separation he imputed wholly to an elasticity in the fibres; and perceiving no token of life, after watching them with due care, and repeating the experiment till he was weary, an account thereof was written to Needham, who, having by trials of his own, found out the cause of this bad success, advised him to steep the grains before he attempted to open them; on doing which he was very soon convinced of his veracity, and entertained with the pleasing sight of this wonderful phnomenon. At different times after this, Baker made experiments with grains of the same parcel, without being once disappointed. He soaked a couple of grains in water for the space of thirtysix hours, when, believing them sufficiently moistened, he cut one open, and applying some of the fibrous substance to the microscope in a drop of water, it separated immediately, and presented multitudes of the anguillul without the least motion or sign of life; but being taught by experience that they might notwithstanding possibly revive, he left them for about four hours, and then examining them again, found much the greatest number moving their extremities pretty briskly, and in an hour or two after they appeared as lively as these creatures usually are. Mr. Folkes and some other friends were witnesses of this experiment. We find an instance here that life may be suspended and seemingly destroyed; that by an exhalation of the fluids necessary to a living animal, the circulations may cease, all the organs and vessels of the body may be shrunk up, dried, and hardened; and yet, after a long while, life may begin anew to actuate the same body, and all the animal motions and faculties may be restored, merely by replenishing the organs and vessels with a fresh supply of fluid. Here is a proof that the animalcula in the grains of blighted wheat can endure having their bodies quite dried up for the space of four years together, without being thereby deprived of the property of resuscitation. It appears plainly from the foregoing experiments, that when the blighted grains of wheat have been kept a long time, and the bodies of these animalcula are consequently become extremely dry, the rigidity of their minute vessels requires to be relaxed very gently, and by exceeding slow degrees; for we find that, on the application of water immediately to the bodies of these animalcula, when taken from the dry grains, they do not so certainly revive, as they do if the grains themselves be either buried in earth, or steeped in water for some time before they are taken out: the reason of which most probably is, that too sudden a relaxation bursts their delicate and tender organs, and thereby renders them incapable of being any more employed to perform the actions of life; and, indeed, there are always some dead ones amongst the living, whose bodies appear bursten, or lacerated, as well as others that lie extended and never come to life. Some discretion is needful to adapt the time of continuing the grains in water or earth to the age and dryness of them; for if they be not opened before they have been too much or too long softened, the animalculum will not only seem dead, but will really be so. Of the two grains mentioned to have been four years old when put to soak, one was opened after it had lain thirtysix hours, and the event proved as already related; the other was suffered to lie for above a week, on opening which, all the anguillul near the husk were found dead, and seemingly in a decayed condition; but great numbers issued alive from the middle, and moved themselves briskly. Unless the husks be opened to let these creatures out after being steeped, they all inevitably perish; and when taken out and preserved in water, if the husks be left with them, they will die in a few days; but otherwise, continue alive in water for several months together; and, should the water evaporate, may be revived again by giving them a fresh supply. 72. VIBRIO LINTER. V. ventricosoovatus, collo brevissimo. Ventricose oval vibrio, with a short neck. This is one of the larger animalcula, of an eggshape, pellucid, inflated, somewhat depressed at top; the apex is prolonged into a moveable crystalline neck, the belly is replete with pellucid molecules. It is not very common, though occasionally to be found among the lemn. 73. VIBRIO UTRICULUS. V. teres, antice angustatus truncatus, postice ventricosus. Round vibrio, the forepart narrow and truncated, the lower ventricose. It does not ill resemble a bottle in shape; the belly is replete with molecular intestines, the neck bright and clear, the top truncated; in some a pellucid point is visible at the bottom of the belly. It is in an unceasing, vehement, and vacillatory motion, the neck moving from one side to the other as fast as possible. 74. VIBRIO FASCIOLA. V. antice attenuatus, medio latiusculus, postice acutus. Vibrio with a small forepart, the middle a little bigger, the hindpart acute. This is a pellucid animalculum, in the middle are the intestines in the form of points; an alimentary pipe, which lessens gradually in size, is also perceptible. The motion of it is quick, darting itself up and down in the water with great velocity. It is found in water just loosened from the frost, and seldom elsewhere. 75. VIBRIO COLYMBUS. V. crassus, postice acuminatus, collo subfalcato. Thick vibrio, sharpened at the end, the neck a little bent. It is larger than most of the vibrios, and not unlike a bird in shape. The neck is round, shorter than the trunk, of an equal size throughout, and of a bright appearance, the apex obtuse. The trunk is thick, somewhat triangular, full of yellow molecules; the forepart broad, the hinderpart acute, the motion slow. 76. VIBRIO STRICTUS. V. elongatus linearis, anticem versus attenuatus, apice obtuso. Vibrio lengthened out almost to a line, small towards the forepart, the apex obtuse. The body linear, being a bright membranaceous thread, without any flexure; the hindpart somewhat thicker, round, and filled with molecules, excepting just at the end, where there is a small pellucid empty space. The apex is obtuse, and rather globose; it has a power of contracting and drawing in the filiform part. 77. VIBRIO ANAS. V. oblongus, utroque fine attenuatus, collo cauda longiore. Oblong vibrio, both ends attenuated, the neck longer than the tail. The trunk is oblong, opake, and filled with molecules. Both the fore and the hindpart is prolonged into a pellucid talky membrane, which the animalculum has a power of retracting at pleasure. The tail is more acute than the neck. It is most generally found in salt water; a species of them have been found in river water, with a longer neck. 78. VIBRIO CYGNUS. V. ventricosus, collo adunco. Corpulent vibrio, with a crooked neck. This animalculum is little more than a most pellucid line, crooked at top, prominent in the middle, and sharp at the end; the forepart, or neck, is equal in length to the rest of the body, and three times longer than the hindpart or tail; the intermediate part swelling out, is full of darkcoloured molecules and pellucid intestines. It is very small, and the most slothful of all those which move and advance their necks. 79. VIBRIO ANSER. V. ellipticus, collo longo, tuberculo dorsali. Plate XXV. Fig. 27 and 29. Elliptical vibrio, with a long neck, and a little lump on the back. It is between the vibrio proteus and vibrio falx, and is distinguished by the lump b, Fig. 29, on the back, placed behind the neck; from this an even long neck, a, proceeds. The trunk, d, is elliptic, round, and without any lateral inequality; full of molecules, the hindpart, e, sharp and bright, the forepart produced into a bending neck that is longer than the body; the apex even and whole, with blue canals passing between the marginal edges, occupying the whole length of the neck; in one of them a vehement descent of water to the beginning of the trunk is perceivable. The motion of the body is slow, that of the neck is more lively and flexuous, sometimes spiral. It is found in water where duckweed grows. 80. VIBRIO OLOR. V. ellipticus, collo longissimo, apice nodoso. Plate XXV. Fig. 28. Elliptical, with a very long neck, and a knob on the apex. The form of the body is elliptical and ventricose, the hindpart somewhat sharp. It is membranaceous, dilatable, winding variously; the hindpart is sometimes replete with darkish molecules. The neck, d, is three or four times longer than the body, of an equal size throughout, except a small degree of thickness at the apex, f, very pellucid. The motion of its neck is very lively, that of the body slow. It is found in water that has been kept for a long time, and which has acquired a vegetable greenness. 81. VIBRIO FALX. V. gibbosus, postice obtusus, collo falcato. A gibbous vibrio, the hindpart obtuse, the neck crooked. The body is pellucid, elliptical, the forepart lessening into a little round bright neck, nearly of the same length as the trunk, the hindpart obtuse. The trunk itself is rather rounding or tending to the gibbous, and filled with very small molecules; there are also two bright globules, one within the hind extremity, the other in the middle of the body. The neck being immoveable, the motions of the animalculum somewhat resemble those of a scythe. 82. VIBRIO INTERMEDIUS. V. membranaceus, antice attenuatus, postice subacutus. Membranaceous vibrio, the forepart small, the hinder part somewhat acute. It seems to be an intermediate species between the preceding vibrio and the fasciola, No. 74; it is a thin membrane, constantly folded. The whole of it has a crystalline talky appearance, the middle replete with grey particles of different sizes; it has all round a distinct bright margin; the apex of the neck is truncated, the tail obtuse. VI. CYCLIDIUM. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, pellucidus, complanatus, orbicularis vel ovatus. A simple, invisible, flat, pellucid, orbicular or oval worm. 83. CYCLIDIUM BULLA. C. orbiculare hyalinum. Orbicular bright cyclidium. A very pellucid white animalculum, or orbicular skin, the edges a little darker than the rest. By the assistance of the compound microscope, some globular intestines of a very crystalline appearance are just perceptible. Its motion is slow and semicircular. It is found occasionally in an infusion of hay. 84. CYCLIDIUM MILIUM. C. ellipticum crystallinum. Elliptic and crystalline cyclidium. It is very pellucid, of a crystalline splendour, membranaceous and elliptical; a line may be perceived through the whole length of it, a point in the forepart, the hinderpart getting darker. Its motion is swift, fluttering, and interrupted; probably both extremities are ciliated. 85. CYCLIDIUM FLUITANS. C. ovale crystallinum. Oval crystalline cyclidium. This is one of the smallest animalcula. The body of an oval, or rather suborbicular shape, depressed, crystalline; two small blue spaces may be discovered by the assistance of the microscope at the sides of this little creature. 86. CYCLIDIUM GLAUCOMA. C. ovatum, interaneis gre conspicuis. Oval cyclidium, the intestines perceived with difficulty. A pellucid oval body, with both ends plain, or an oval membrane, with a distinct welldefined edge; the intestines are so transparent that they can scarce be discerned, when it is empty; when full, they are of a green colour, and there are dark globules discoverable in the middle. In plenty of water it moves swiftly in a circular and diagonal direction; whenever it moves slowly it seems to be taking in water, the intestines are then also in a violent commotion. Two of the smaller ones may often be perceived cohering to each other, and drawing one another by turns; nor are they separated by death, for they remain united even when the water is evaporated. Those who are not familiar with these kinds of observations, may easily mistake the shade in a single one for a junction of two, or the junction of two for a copulation, for they generate by division. 87. CYCLIDIUM NIGRICANS. C. oblongiusculum, margine nigricans. Oblong cyclidium, with a black margin. It is very small, pellucid, and flat. With a small magnifier, it may be mistaken for an enchelis. 88. CYCLIDIUM ROSTRATIUM. C. ovale, antice mucronatum. An oval cyclidium, the forepart pointed. This is an oval, smooth, and very pellucid animalculum, with the forepart running out into an obtuse point; with this it seems to feel and examine the bodies which it approaches. It is probably ciliated, though the hairs have not been discovered. The intestines are filled with a blue liquor, forming in a tube, which, from the aperture to the middle of the body, is divided into two legs or branches; beyond the middle there are two little transverse blue lines. This colour sometimes vanishes, and then they seem to be composed of vesicles. 89. CYCLIDIUM NUCLEUS. C. ovale, postice acuminatum. An oval cyclidium, the hindpart pointed. The body is pellucid, depressed, the forepart obtusely convex, the hindpart acute, the intestines vesicular, the fore and hindpart on each side dark. It resembles a grapeseed. 90. CYCLIDIUM HYALINUM. C. ovatum, postice acutum. Oval cyclidium, the hindpart acute. This cyclidium is oval, flat, and bright, without any visible intestines, the hinderpart somewhat smaller than the forepart; it has a tremulous kind of motion. 91. CYCLIDIUM PEDICULUS. C. ovale convexum, subtus planum. An oval convex cyclidium, the bottom even. Trembley Polyp. 1, p. 282. This is a gelatinous white animalculum, the bottom gibbous over the back, the extremities depressed and truncated, with one end sometimes apparently cloven into two; perhaps this is the aperture of the mouth. It is scarce ever seen but on the arms and the body of the hydra pallida, upon which it runs as if it had feet. 92. CYCLIDIUM DUBIUM. C. ovale, supra convexum, subtus cavum. Oval cyclidium, the upper part convex, the under part concave. This is one of the larger species, the margin is pellucid, and the inner part contains a great number of black molecules. VII. PARAMCIUM. Vermis inconspicuus, simplex, pellucidus, membranaceus, oblongus. An invisible, simple, membranaceous, flat, and pellucid worm. 93. PARAMCIUM AURELIA. VOLVOX TEREBELLA. ELLIS. P. compressum, versus anticem plicatum, postice acutum. Compressed paramcium, oblong, folded towards the forepart, the hinderpart acute. This is rather a large animalculum, membranaceous, pellucid, and four times longer than it is broad; the forepart obtuse, transparent, without intestines; the hindpart replete with molecules of various sizes; the fold, which goes from the middle to the apex is a striking characteristic of the species, forming a kind of triangular aperture, and giving it somewhat the appearance of a gimblet. Its motion is rectilinear, reeling or staggering, and generally vehement. They are frequently found cohering lengthwise; the lateral edges of both bodies appear bright. They may also sometimes be seen lying on one another alternately, at others, adhering by the middle. They will live many months in the same water without its being renewed. They are to be found in June in ditches where there is plenty of duckweed. 94. PARAMCIUM CHRYSALIS. P. cylindraceum, versus anticam plicatum, postice obtusum. Plate XXV. Fig. 26. Cylindrical paramcium, folded towards the forepart, the hinderpart obtuse. It differs very little from the preceding, only the ends, a b, are more obtuse, and the margins filled with black globules. It is an inhabitant of salt water. 95. PARAMCIUM VERSUTUM. P. cylindraceum, postice incrassatum, utraque extremitate obtusum. Cylindrical paramcium, the lower part thick, and both ends very obtuse. An oblong, green, and gelatinous body, filled with molecules; the lowerpart thick, the forepart smaller, both ends obtuse, and may be seen to propagate by division. It is found in ditches. 96. PARAMCIUM OVIFERUM. P. depressum, intus bullis ovalibus. Plate XXV. Fig. 25. Depressed paramcium, with large oval molecules withinside. A membranaceous, oval, oblong animalculum, grey and pellucid, having many oval very pellucid corpuscles, a, dispersed about the body, and many black grains towards b. 97. PARAMCIUM MARGINATUM. P. depressum, griseum, margine duplici. Plate XXV. Fig. 24. Depressed paramcium, grey, with a double margin. This is one of the largest of the class, flat, elliptical, every part filled with molecules, except in the lower end, b, where there is a pellucid vesicle; this animalculum is surrounded by a broad double margin; when expiring, a bright spiral intestine is observable. a, the apex; b, the vesicle; c, the spiral intestine. VIII. KOLPODA. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, pellucidus, complanatus, sinuatus. An invisible, very simple, pellucid, flat and crooked worm. 98. KOLPODA LAMELLA. K. elongata, membranacea, antice curvata. This animalculum resembles a long, narrow, and pellucid membrane, the hindpart obtuse, narrower, and curved towards the top; no intestines discoverable, only a ridge or fold going through the middle. Its motion is reeling or staggering, and very singular, moving to and fro on its edge, not on the flat side, as is usual with most microscopic animals. It is found in water, but is very seldom to be met with. 99. KOLPODA GALLINULA. K. oblonga, dorso antico membranaceo hyalino. Oblong kolpoda, the back towards the forepart bright and membranaceous. The apex rather bent; the belly oval, convex and striated. It is found in fetid salt water. 100. KOLPODA ROSTRUM. K. oblonga, antice uncinata. Oblong, the forepart hooked. The forepart is bent into a kind of hook; the hindpart is obtuse, and everywhere filled with black molecules. One of the edges from the forepart to the middle, is often so blunted and dilated, that the rest of the body appears quite smooth, and that part thick and triangular. It has a slow and horizontal motion. It is to be found, though but seldom, in water where the lemn grow. 101. KOLPODA OCHREA. K. elongata, membranacea, apice attenuato, basi in angulum rectum producta. Long kolpoda, membranaceous, the apex attenuated, the base bent in a right angle to the body. A large animalculum, long, and of a singular figure, depressed, membranaceous, flexible; one edge nearly straight, the other somewhat bent, filled with obscure molecules, and a few little bladders dispersed here and there; the apex bright and small, the base projecting like the human foot from the leg. 102. KOLPODA MUCRONATA. K. membranacea dilatata, antice angustata, altero margine incisa. Membranaceous, dilated kolpoda, the forepart smaller than the hindpart, with a small incision at one side. This animalculum is a dilated bright membrane; the apex an obtuse point, with a broad marked border running entirely round it; within the margin it is filled with grey molecules, a fleshy disc on one side, which terminates in a splendid little point on the other side the disc. It has a truncated appearance. 103. KOLPODA TRIQUETRA. K. obovata depressa, altero margine retuso. Kolpoda nearly of an eggshape, one edge turned back. This animalculum appears to consist of two membranes; the upper side flattened, the lower convex; the apex is bent so as to form a kind of shoulder. It was found in salt water. 104. KOLPODA STRIATA. K. oblonga, subarcuata depressa, candida, antice acuminata, postice rotundata. Oblong, somewhat of a pearshape, white, the forepart pointed, the hindpart round. It is very pellucid and white, the upper part rather bent, and terminating in a point, the lower part obtusely round; at the apex or mouth there is a little black pellucid vesicle; when a very great magnifying power is used, the body appears covered with long streaks; the lower extremity is furnished, like many other animalcula, with very small globules. It is to be found in salt water. 105. KOLPODA NUCLEUS. K. ovata, vertice acuto. Eggshaped kolpoda, with an acute vertex. It is of an oval shape, the vertex pointed, of a brilliant transparency, which renders the viscera visible; they consist of a number of round diaphanous vesicles. 106. KOLPODA MELEAGRIS. K. mutabilis, antice uncinata, postice complicata. Plate XXV. Fig. 22. Changeable, with the forepart like a hook, the hindpart folded up. A most singular animalculum of the larger species; it has a dilated membrane, with the finest folds, which it varies and bends in a moment; the forepart of the body to the middle is clear and bright, the hindpart variously folded in transverse elevated plaits, and full of molecules; the apex turned into a hook, the margin sinuous, and beneath the apex denticulated with three or four teeth; but in some which are more beautifully wrought, the edge is obtusely notched, and set with still smaller notches; in the hindpart there are twelve or more equal pellucid globules. It moves sometimes in a straight, at other times in a crooked line, a, the hooked apex; b, the denticulated margin; c, the series of globules; d, the folded part at bottom. 107. KOLPODA ASSIMILIS. K. depressa, non plicatilis apice uncinato, margine antico ad medium, usque crenulato postice, dilatato acutiusculo. Depressed kolpoda, the apex turned in the form of a small hook; the margin of the forepart notched from the top to the middle, the lower part swells out, then diminishes again into a short point. It has an elliptic mass in the middle, but is never folded like the preceding. It was found on the sea coast. 108. KOLPODA CUCULLUS. K. ovata, ventricosa, infra apicem incisa. Plate XXV. Fig. 23. Eggshaped, ventricose, with an incision in the forepart. It is very pellucid, with a welldefined margin, filled with little bright vesicles, differing in size, and of no certain number. Its figure is commonly oval, the top bent into a kind of beak, seldom an acute one, sometimes oblong, but most usually obtuse. Its intestines are formed of from eight to twentyfour bright little vesicles, not conspicuous in such as are young. Some have supposed these to be animalcula which the kolpoda had swallowed, but Mller is of opinion that they are its offspring. In some only one crystalline vesicle occupies the middle of the body. It moves in general with great vivacity, and in all directions. When this creature is near death in consequence of the evaporation of the water, it protrudes its offspring with violence. It is found in infusions of vegetables, and in fetid hay. In some few a transparent membranaceous substance may be perceived projecting beyond the beak, and resembling an exuvia; the same may also be observed in the enchelis and vibrio: it is, therefore, possible that these animalcula cast their skin, as is the case with many of the class of insects. a shews the cap or hood, b the incision. 109. KOLPODA CUCULLULUS. K. oblonga, infra apicem oblique incisa. Oblong kolpoda, with an oblique incision a little below the apex. A very pellucid crystalline animalculum; it is furnished with several pellucid globules; there is a bending a little beneath the top, which in some positions is very distinctly seen, in others not. It was observed in an infusion of the sonchus arvensis. 110. KOLPODA CUCULLIO. K. ovalis depressa, infra apicem tantillum sinuata. Flat oval kolpoda, with a small degree of bending beneath the apex. This is an oval, or rather an elliptical kolpoda, membranaceous and bright; flat on the upper side, and convex on the under; the forepart is clear, and from the middle to the hinderpart it is filled with silverlike globules. It frequently stretches out the forepart, and folds it in different positions. 111. KOLPODA REN. K. crassa medio sinuata. This kolpoda is thick, and carved in the middle. The body is yellow, thick, and rather opake; curved a little, in the middle, so as to have the appearance of a kidney; the whole body is filled with molecules. Its motion is quick, fluctuating, and interrupted. When the water in which it swims is about to fail, it assumes an oval form, is compressed, and at last bursts. It is found in an infusion of hay, generally about thirteen hours after the infusion is made. 112. KOLPODA PIRUM. K. convexa, ovalis, apice in rostrum producta. Plate XXV. Fig. 20 and 21. Convex kolpoda, oval, the apex formed into a kind of beak. The body is uniform and transparent, without any sensible inequality; the neck rather long and a little bent; it is of a pale colour, and furnished with obscure little globules. It propagates by division. Fig. 20 represents this animalculum; Fig. 21, the same dividing to form another; a, the forepart; b, the hindpart; c, where it is dividing. 113. KOLPODA CUNEUS. K. clavata, teres, apice dentata. Clavated kolpoda, round, the apex dentated. This is a large animalculum, the body white, gelatinous, without any distinct viscera. It has a pellucid, bright, striated pustule on one side of the forepart; the apex is distinguished by three or four teeth, the hinderpart is smaller than the forepart, with an obtuse termination, which it can bend into a spiral form. IX. GONIUM. Vermis inconspicuus, simplicissimus, complanatus, angulatus. An invisible, simple, smooth, angular worm. 114. GONIUM PECTORALE. G. quadrangulare, pellucidum moleculis sedecim sphricis. Plate XXV. Fig. 17. This gonium is quadrangular, pellucid, with sixteen spherical molecules. These sixteen little oval bodies are nearly equal in size, of a greenish colour, pellucid, and set in a quadrangular membrane, like the jewels in the breastplate of the highpriest, reflecting light on both sides. Its animality is evinced by its spontaneous motion, advancing alternately towards the right and left; these little bodies seem oval when in motion, round when at rest; the four interior ones are a little larger than the rest. It is found in pure water. 115. GONIUM PULVINATUM. G. quadrangulare, opacum pulvillis quatuor. Quadrangular, opake, with four little pillows. This appears like a little quadrangular membrane, plain on both sides; with a large magnifier it looks like a bolster, formed of three or four cylindric pillows, flattened or sunk here and there. Thus it appeared to Mller on the first examination; some days after all the sides were plain, without any convexity, and divided into little square spaces by lines crossing each other. It is found upon dunghills. 116. GONIUM CORRUGATUM. G. quadrangulare, albidum, medio correptum. Quadrangular gonium, white, sunk a little in the middle. It is somewhat of a square shape, very minute, without any visible viscera, a little depressed in the middle. It is found in various infusions; in some positions it appears streaked. 117. GONIUM RECTANGULUM. G. rectangulum, dorso arcuato. This gonium is rectangular, the hindpart arched. This differs but little from the preceding; the angle at the base is a right one, the larger vesicle is transparent, the rest green. 118. GONIUM TRUNCATUM. G. obtusangulum, postice arcuatum. Gonium with obtuse corners, the hindpart arched. Much larger than the foregoing, the forepart is a straight line, with which the sides form obtuse angles, the ends of the sides being united by a curved line; the internal molecules are of a dark green, there are two little bright vesicles in the middle; its motion is languid. It is found chiefly in pure water, and that but seldom. X. BURSARIA. Vermis simplicissimus, membranaceus, cavus. A very simple, hollow, membranaceous worm. 119. BURSARIA TRUNCATELLA. B. ventricosa, apice truncata. Ventricose bursaria, the top truncated. An animalculum that is visible to the naked eye, white, oval, and truncated at the top, where there is a large aperture descending towards the base; most of them have four or five yellow eggs at the bottom. It moves itself at pleasure from right to left, and from left to right, ascending to the surface of the water in a right line, and sometimes rolling about while descending. 120. BURSARIA BULLINA. B. cymbformis, antice labrata. Boatshaped bursaria, the forepart formed into a lip. A pellucid crystalline animalculum, furnished with splendid globules of different sizes swimming about within it; the underside convex, the upper side hollow, the forepart forming a kind of lip. 121. BURSARIA HIRUNDINELLA. B. utrinque laciniata, extremitatibus productis. Plate XXV. Fig. 19. Bursaria with two small projecting wings, which give it somewhat of the appearance of a bird, and it moves something like a swallow. It is invisible to the naked eye, but by the microscope appears to be a pellucid hollow membrane; no intestines are visible. a, the head; b, the tail; c, one of the wings. 122. BURSARIA DUPLELLA. B. elliptica, marginibus inflexis. Plate XXV. Fig. 18. Elliptic bursaria with the edge bent in and out. A crystalline membrane folded up, without any visible intestines, if we except a little congeries of points under one of the folds. It was found among duckweed. 123. BURSARIA GLOBINA. B. sphrica, medio pellucentissima. Spherical bursaria, very pellucid in the middle. A subspheric hollow animalculum, the lower end furnished with black molecules of various sizes, the forepart with obscure points, the rest entirely empty, and the middle very pellucid; it moves slowly from right to left. XI. CERCARIA. Vermis inconspicuus, pellucidus, caudatus. An invisible pellucid worm with a tail. 124. CERCARIA GYRINUS. C. rotundata, cauda acuminata. Round cercaria, with a sharp tail. It has a white gelatinous body, without any traces of intestines; the forepart somewhat globular, the hindpart round, long, and pointed; sometimes it appears a little compressed on each side. When swimming, the tail is in a continual vibration, like that of a tadpole. It seems very similar to the spermatic animalcula. 125. CERCARIA GIBBA. C. subovata, convexa, antice subacuta, cauda tereti. Somewhat of an oval shape, convex, the forepart rather acute, the tail round. It is a small animalculum, gelatinous, white, opake, and without any visible intestines; the upper part convex or gibbous; many of them were found in infusions of hay, as well as of other vegetables. 126. CERCARIA INQUIETA. C. mutabilis, convexa, cauda lvi. Plate XXV. Fig. 31 and 32. Changeable convex cercaria, with a smooth tail. This animalculum so often changes the form of its body, that it is not easy to describe it; it is sometimes spherical, sometimes like a long cylinder, at other times of an oval figure, white and gelatinous; the tail is filiform and flexible, the upper part vibrating vehemently; no visible viscera; a pellucid globule may be observed at the base, and two very small black points placed near the top at d, Fig. 32; whether they be eyes to the animalculum is not known. It was found in salt water. a, Fig. 31, the body; b, the tail. 127. CERCARIA LEMNA. C. mutabilis, subdepressa, cauda annulata. Plate XXV. Fig. 33, 34, and 35. Mutable cercaria, somewhat flattened, with an annulated tail. This animalculum varies its form so much, that it might be mistaken for the proteus of Baker, though, in fact, it is totally different. The body sometimes appears of an oblong, sometimes of a triangular, and sometimes of a kidney shape. The tail is generally short, thick, and annulated, but sometimes long, flexible, cylindric, and without rings; vibrating, when stretched out, with so much velocity, that it appears as it were double. The intestines are not very distinct; a small pellucid globule, which Mller supposes to be its mouth, is observable at the apex; and two black points not easily discovered, he thinks are its eyes; sometimes it draws the tail entirely into the body. It walks slowly after taking three or four steps, and extends the tail, erecting it perpendicularly, shaking and bending it; in which state it very much resembles a leaf of the lemna. Fig. 33, a, the body rather spherical; b, the tail. Fig. 34, c, the triangular body; b, the tail. Fig. 35, the body extended; e e, the eyes; f f, the intestines; g, a large vesicle; h, a smaller one. 128. CERCARIA TURBO. C. globulosa, medio coarctata, cauda uniseta. Plate XXV. Fig. 30. Globular cercaria, the middle contracted, with a tail like a bristle. Partly of an oval, and partly of a spherical shape, pellucid, and of a talky appearance. It seems to be composed of two globular bodies, the lowermost of which is the smallest; this figure is occasioned by the contraction at the middle. There are two black points, like eyes, even with a transverse line which crosses the upper part of this little creature; several large globules may also be discerned; the tail is sometimes quite straight, sometimes turned back on the body. It is to be found among duckweed. 129. CERCARIA PODURIA. C. cylindracea, postice acuminata subfissa. Plate XXV. Fig. 36 and 37. Cylindric cercaria, the hindpart sharp and somewhat cloven. It resembles the young ones of the podura126 which live among the lemn, is pellucid, and appears to consist of a head, trunk, and tail; the head resembles that of a herring; the trunk is cylindric, replete with black spiral intestines, and appears more or less extended, at the will of the animal; nothing is to be discovered in the hinderpart. The tail most commonly appears to be divided into two bristles. The intestines are in a continual motion when the body moves, and by reason of their various shades give it a very rough appearance; some lateral hairs or cilia are likewise to be perceived. When it moves, it revolves at the same time as upon an axis. It is to be found in November and December, in marshy places that are covered with the lemna. Fig. 36, a, the head; b, the trunk; c, the tail; d, with one point; it is seen at e, Fig. 37, with two points; f, the hairs on the side. 126 A genus of insects of the order of aptera. Linn. Syst. Nat. p. 1013. 130. CERCARIA VIRIDIS. C. cylindracea mutabilis, postice accuminata fissa. Cylindrical cercaria, mutable, the lower end sharp, and divided into two parts. This animalculum in some of its states considerably resembles the last, but has a much greater power of changing its shape. It is naturally cylindrical, the lower end sharp, and divided into two parts; but it sometimes contracts the head and tail so as to assume a spherical figure, at other times it projects outwards. It is found in the spring, in ditches of standing water. 131. CERCARIA SETIFERA. C. cylindracea, antice angustior, postice acuminata. Cylindric cercaria, the forepart smallest, the hindpart pointed. This is a small cercaria, the body rather opake, and of a round figure. The upper part is bright, and smaller than the rest; the trunk is more opake; the tail sharp, and near it a little row of short hairs. It has a slow rotatory motion. It is found in salt water, though but seldom. 132. CERCARIA HIRTA. C. cylindrica, antice subtruncata, postice obtusa, bimucronata. Cylindrical cercaria, the forepart somewhat truncated, the lower part obtuse, finishing with two small points. A cylindrical opake animalculum, with two small points at the lower end, moveable, yet rigid, and placed at some distance; when in motion, the body appears to be surrounded with rows of small hairs separated a little from each other. It was observed in salt water. 133. CERCARIA CRUMENA. C. cylindraceoventricosa, antice oblique truncata, cauda lineari bicuspidata. Cylindrical, ventricose cercaria, the forepart obliquely truncated, the tail linear, terminating with two diverging points. The body is ventricose, cylindrical, thick, and wrinkled; the lower part small, the upper part terminates in a small, straight neck, like that of a pitcher; the tail terminates in two diverging points. 134. CERCARIA CATELLUS. C. tripartita, cauda bisecta. Threeparted cercaria, the tail divided into two parts. This animalculum is more complex in its form than many others; it has a moveable head, which is affixed to the body only by a point; an abdomen, which is not so wide, but twice as long as the head, replete with intestines; and a tail which is shorter than the head, narrower than the belly, and terminating in two bristles, which it can unite and separate at pleasure. It moves with vivacity, though without going far from its own place. 135. CERCARIA CATELINA. C. tripartita, cauda bicuspidata. Cercaria distinguished into three parts, with a short forked tail. It differs from the preceding in several respects, being larger, the body thicker, and more cylindrical; the lower part truncated, with two short diverging points projecting from the middle. It was found in a ditch containing plenty of duckweed. 136. CERCARIA LUPUS. C. cylindrica, elongata, torosa cauda spinis duabus. Plate XXV. Fig. 39. Cylindric cercaria, long, the tail furnished with two spines. This animalculum is larger than most of the cercarias, and in some particulars resembles the vorticella. It is full of muscles, capable of being contracted or extended; cylindric, composed of a head, a trunk, and a tail; the head is larger than the body, the apex turned down into a little hook; the tail is like the body, but narrower, terminating in two very bright spines, which it extends in different directions; sometimes it contracts itself into one half its common size; and again extends itself as before. It was found in water among duckweed. a the head, b the trunk, c the tail, d d the spines thereof. 137. CERCARIA VERMICULARIS. C. cylindrica annulata, proboscide exsertili, cauda spina duplici. Plate XXV. Fig. 40. Cylindrical, annulated, with a projecting proboscis, two small spines for the tail. It is a long, cylindrical, fleshy, mutable animalculum, divided into eight or nine rings, or folding plaits; the apex either obtuse or notched into two points; the hindpart rather acute, and terminating in two pellucid thorns, between which a swelling is sometimes perceived. It often projects a kind of cloven proboscis. It is found in water where duckweed grows. d d the points of the forepart, e the proboscis. 138. CERCARIA FORCIPATA. C. cylindrica, rugosa, proboscide forcipata exsertili, cauda bicuspidata. Cylindrical cercaria, wrinkled, with a forked proboscis, which it can extend, or retract. It is found in marshy situations. 139. CERCARIA PLEURONECTES. C. orbicularis, cauda uniseta. Orbicular, the tail consisting of one bristle. It is membranaceous, rather round, and white. In the forepart are two blackish points; the hindpart is furnished with a slender sharp tail; it has orbicular intestines of different sizes in the middle; the largest of them are bright. Its motion is staggering or wavering; in swimming it keeps one edge of the lateral membrane upwards; the other folded down. It is found in water which has been kept for several months. 140. CERCARIA TRIPOS. C. subtriangularis, brachiis deflexis, cauda recta. Plate XXV. Fig. 38. Cercaria somewhat of a triangular form, two bent arms, and a straight tail. The body is flat, pellucid, and triangular, having each angle of the base or forepart bent down into two linear arms; the apex of the triangle is prolonged into a tail. It was found in salt water; b, the tail; a a, the bent arms. 141. CERCARIA CYCLIDIUM. C. ovalis, postice subemarginata, cauda extersili. This is oval, the hindpart somewhat notched, with a tail that it thrusts out at pleasure. It has an oval, smooth, membranaceous, and pellucid body, with a black margin. The tail is not fixed to the edge, but concealed under it, and comes out from it at every motion, but in such a manner, as to project but little from the edge. There is also a kind of border to the hinderpart. Its intestines are very pellucid vesicles. It is frequently found in pure water. 142. CERCARIA TENAX. C. membranacea, antice crassiuscula, truncata, cauda triplo breviore. Membranaceous, the forepart rather thick, truncated, the tail three times shorter. It is an oval, pellucid membrane, something larger than the monas lens. The foreedge is thick and truncated, the hinderpart acute, and terminating in a short tail. It whirls about in various directions with great velocity. 143. CERCARIA DISCUS. C. orbicularis, cauda curvata. A small orbicular animalculum, with a bent tail. 144. CERCARIA ORBIS. C. orbicularis, seta caudali duplici longissima. Orbicular cercaria, with a tail consisting of two very long bristles. 145. CERCARIA LUNA. C. orbicularis, cauda lineari duplici brevi. This is likewise orbicular, with two short spines for a tail; the forepart hollowed, so as to form a kind of crescent. XII. LEUCOPHRA. Vermis inconspicuus, pellucidus, undique ciliatus. An invisible worm, pellucid, and everywhere ciliated. 146. LEUCOPHRA CONFLICTOR. L. sphrica, subopaca, interaneis mobilibus. Spherical opake leucophra, with moveable intestines. This animalculum, or rather a heap of animalcula, is larger than most species of the vorticella; it is perfectly spherical, and semitransparent, of a yellow colour, the edges dark. It rolls at intervals from right to left, but seldom removes from the spot where it is first found. It is filled with a number of the most minute molecules, which move as if they were in a violent conflict. In proportion to the number of these little combatants, which are accumulated either on one side or the other, the whole mass rolls either to the right or left, the molecules going in the same direction; it is then tranquil for a short time, but the conflict soon becomes more violent, and the sphere moves the contrary way in a spiral line. When the water begins to fail, they assume an oblong, oval, or cylindric figure; the hindpart of some being compressed into a triangular shape, and the transparent part escaping as it were from the intestines, which continue to move with the same violence till the water wholly fails, when the molecules are spread into a shapeless mass, which also soon vanishes, and the whole shoot into a form, having the appearance of crystals of sal ammoniac, as figured by Baker. Empl. for the Micros. Plate III. No. 3. 147. LEUCOPHRA MAMILLA. L. sphrica, opaca, papilla exsertili. Sphrical opake leucophra, with a small papillary projection. It is of a dark colour, and filled with globular molecules, the short hairs are curved inwards; and it occasionally projects and retracts a little white protuberance. It is not uncommon in marshy water. 148. LEUCOPHRA VIRESCENS. L. cylindracea, opaca, postice crassiore. Cylindrical, opake, leucophra, the lower part much thicker than the upper part. This is a large, pearshaped, greenish coloured animalculum, filled with opake molecules, and covered with short hairs; generally moving in a straight line. It is found in salt water. 149. LEUCOPHRA VIRIDIS. L. ovalis opaca. Oval, opake leucophra. Though at first sight it may be taken for a variety of the leucophra virescens; yet, on a further examination, it differs in many particulars; it cannot lengthen and shorten itself as that does. It is also much smaller. Sometimes it appears contracted in the middle, as if it were about to be divided in two. 150. LEUCOPHRA BURSATA. L. viridis, ovalis, antice truncata. Green oval leucophra, the forepart truncated. This is similar in many respects to the foregoing leucophra; it is of a long oval shape, bulging in the middle, and filled with green molecules; every where ciliated, except at the apex, which is truncated, and shaped somewhat like a purse; the hairs larger, and sometimes collected in minute fasciculi. It is to be found in salt water. 151. LEUCOPHRA POSTHUMA. L. globularis, opaca, reticulo pellucenti. This is globular and opake, covered as it were with a pellucid net. It was found in fetid salt water. 152. LEUCOPHRA AUREA. L. ovalis, fulva, utraque extremitate quali obtusus. Oval yellow leucophra, both ends of it equally obtuse. The little hairs are discovered with difficulty; it has, in general, a vehement rotatory motion. 153. LEUCOPHRA PERTUSA. L. ovalis, gelatinosa, apice truncato obtusa altera latera suffossa. Oval gelatinous leucophra, the apex obtusely truncated, one side sunk down. Gelatinous, yellow, and small, without any molecules; the forepart is truncated, the hindpart brought nearly to a point, with a kind of oval hole on one side. It was found in salt water. 154. LEUCOPHRA FRACTA. L. elongata, sinuato angulata subdepressa. Leucophra long, with sinuated angles, rather flat. The body is white, gelatinous, and granulated; it changes its form considerably. 155. LEUCOPHRA DILATATA. L. complanata, mutabilis, marginibus sinuatis. Smooth changeable leucophra, with a sinuated edge. A gelatinous membrane, with a few grey molecules in the forepart, and a great number in the hinderpart; it is sometimes dilated into a triangular form, with sinuated sides; at other times the shape is more irregular and oblong. 156. LEUCOPHRA SCINTILLANS. L. ovalis, teres, opaca, viridis. Oval, round, opake, green leucophra. This animalculum is supposed to be ciliated, from its bright twinkling appearance, which probably arises from the motion it gives the water; it is nearly of an eggshape. It was found in December among the lemna minor. 157. LEUCOPHRA VESICULIFERA. L. ovata, interaneis vesicularibus. Plate XXV. Fig. 41. Oval leucophra, with vesicular intestines. An animalculum that is a kind of mean between the orbicular and oval, very pellucid, with a defined dark edge and inside, containing some very bright vesicles, or bladders. The middle frequently appears blue, and the vesicles seem as if set in a ground of that colour. Mller could never perceive any of those rays which are mentioned by Spallanzani; he confesses, however, that he once saw an individual like this environed with very small unequal shining rays. 158. LEUCOPHRA GLOBULIFERA. L. crystallina, ovatooblonga. Crystalline leucophra, of an oblong oval shape. The body is round, very pellucid, without molecular intestines, though at one edge it has three little pellucid globules; it is everywhere set with short hairs. It was found in a ditch where the lemna minor grew. 159. LEUCOPHRA PUSTULATA. L. ovato oblonga, postice oblique truncata. An oblong oval leucophra, the lower end obliquely truncated. The body is white, gelatinous, and somewhat granulated; the lower part truncated, as if an oblique section were made in an egg near the bottom. It is covered with little erect shining hairs; at the lower extremities a few bright pustules may be discovered. It is found in marshy waters. 160. LEUCOPHRA TURBINATA. L. inverse conica, subopaca. Leucophra in shape like an inverted cone, and rather opake. It is a round pellucid body, somewhat of the shape of an acorn, with a pellucid globule at the lower end. It was found in fetid salt water. 161. LEUCOPHRA ACUTA. L. ovata, teres, apice acuto, mutabilis, flaviscans. Oval leucophra, round, with the apex acute, mutable, yellow. This is gelatinous, thick, and capable of assuming different shapes; the apex bright, and the rest of the body filled with innumerable little spherules; sometimes it draws itself up into an orbicular shape, at other times one edge is sinuated. It was found in salt water. 162. LEUCOPHRA NOTATA. L. ovata, teres, puncto marginali atro. Oval leucophra, round, with a black point at the edge. 163. LEUCOPHRA CANDIDA. L. hyalina, oblonga, altera extremitate attenuata, curvata. Leucophra of a talky appearance, oblong, one end smaller than the other, and bent back. The body membranaceous, flat, very white, with no visible intestines, except two oval bodies which are with difficulty perceptible; the whole edge is ciliated. Found in an infusion with salt water. 164. LEUCOPHRA NODULATA. L. ovatooblonga, depressa, serie nodulorum duplici. An oblong oval species of leucophra, with a double row of little nodules. 165. LEUCOPHRA SIGNATA. L. oblonga, subdepressa. Oblong, subdepressed leucophra, with a black margin, filled with little molecular globules, but more particularly distinguished by a curved line in the middle, something in the shape of a long S; one end of which is at times bent into the form of a small spiral. It is common in salt water, in the months of November and December. 166. LEUCOPHRA TRIGONA. L. crassa, obtusa, angulata, flava. Thick, obtuse, angular, and yellow leucophra. A yellow, triangular mass, filled with unequal pellucid vesicles, one of which is much larger than the rest, and the edge surrounded with short fluctuating hairs. It was found in a marshy situation, but is not common. 167. LEUCOPHRA FLUIDA. L. subreniformis, ventricosa. Leucophra somewhat of a kidney shape, but ventricose. 168. LEUCOPHRA FLUXA. L. sinuata reniformis. Reniform, sinuated leucophra. 169. LEUCOPHRA ARMILLA. L. teres annularis. Round annular leucophra. 170. LEUCOPHRA CORNUTA. L. inverse conica, viridis opaca. Plate XXV. Fig. 42 and 43. An inverted cone, green, opake. It bears some resemblance to the vorticella polymorpha, No. 290, and the vorticella viridis, No. 283, and requires to be observed for some time before its peculiar characters can be ascertained; the body is composed of molecular vesicles, of a dark green colour; for the most part it is like an inverted cone, the forepart being wide and truncated, with a little prominent horn or hook on both sides; the hindpart conical, everywhere ciliated, the hairs exceedingly minute; those in the forepart are three times longer than the latter, and move in a circular direction. The hinderpart is pellucid, and sometimes terminates in two or three obtuse pellucid projections. The animalculum will at one moment appear oval, at another reniform, and ciliated at the forepart; but at another time the hairs are concealed. When the water evaporates, it breaks or dissolves into molecular vesicles. It is found late in the year in marshy grounds. Fig. 42, a, the hinderpart pointed; g, the cilia; h h, the sides. Fig. 43, b, the hinderpart obtuse; e, the forepart; f, the horns. 171. LEUCOPHRA HETEROCLITA. L. cylindrica, antice obtusa, postice organo cristato duplici exsertili. Plate XXV. Fig. 44 and 45. Cylindrical leucophra, the forepart obtuse, the hindpart furnished with a doubletufted organ, which it can thrust in or out at pleasure. To the naked eye it appears like a white point; in the microscope, as a cylindrical body, the forepart obtusely round, the middle rather drawn in, the lowerpart round, but much smaller than the upperpart. With a large magnifying power the whole body is found to be ciliated. The intestines are very visible. It is represented in Fig. 44 as it generally appears; a, the forepart; b, the hindpart; d, the hooked intestines; in Fig. 45, with the plumed organs; i i, the plumes; g g, the sheaths from which they are projected. XIII. TRICHODA. Vermis inconspicuus, pellucidus, crinitus. An invisible, pellucid, hairy worm. 172. TRICHODA GRANDINELLA. T. sphrica, pellucida, superne crinata. Spherical, pellucid, the upperpart hairy. A most minute pellucid globule, the intestines scarce visible, the top of its surface furnished with several short bristles, which are not easily distinguished, as the animalculum has a power of extending and withdrawing them in an instant. It is found in pure water, and in infusions of vegetables. 173. TRICHODA COMETA. T. sphrica, antice crinita, globulo appendente. Plate XXV. Fig. 46 and 47. Spherical, the forepart hairy, with an appendant globule. It is a pellucid globule, replete with bright intestines, the forepart furnished with hairs, the hindpart with a pellucid appendant globule. 174. TRICHODA GRANATA. T. sphrica, centro opaco peripheria crinita. Plate XXV. Fig. 48. Spherical, with an opake center, the periphery hairy. It resembles the trichoda grandinella and trichoda cometa just described. It has a darkish nucleus in the center; its intestines are imperceptible; short hairs on the edge. 175. TRICHODA TROCHUS. T. subpiriformis, pellucida, antice utrinque crinita. Trichoda somewhat of a pearshape, pellucid, each side of the forepart distinguished by a little bunch of hairs. 176. TRICHODA GYRINUS. T. ovalis, teres, crystallina, antice crinita. Oval, round, crystalline trichoda, the front hairy. It is one of the smallest among the trichoda, the body smooth and free from hairs, except at the forepart, where there are a few. It is found in salt water. 177. TRICHODA SOL. T. globularis, undique radiata. Plate XXV. Fig. 65 and 66. Globular trichoda, everywhere radiated. This splendid creature constitutes a new genus, but as we know of no more of the same kind, it is introduced here. It is a little crystalline round corpuscle, the upper part convex; it is beset with innumerable diverging rays, which are longer than the diameter of the body, proceeding from every part of its surface: the inside is full of molecules. The body contracts and dilates, but the animalculum remains confined to the same spot. It was found with other animalcula in water which had been kept for three weeks. It propagates by division, and is represented as dividing in Fig. 66. 178. TRICHODA SOLARIS. T. sphroidea, peripheria crinita. Spheroidal trichoda, with a few hairs round the circumference. The body is orbicular, bright, and filled with globular intestines; in many, a moveable substance, something like the letter S, may be discovered; it has hairs, seldom exceeding seventeen in number, which are disposed round the circumference, each of them nearly equal in length to the diameter of the animalculum. 179. TRICHODA BOMBA. T. mutabilis, antice pilis sparsis. Plate XXV. Fig. 67 and 68. Changeable, with a few hairs dispersed on the forepart. It is a thick animalculum, larger than the trichoda granata, No. 174, and of a yellow colour; pellucid, and replete with claylike molecules; it is very lively, moving about with so much velocity, as to elude the sharpest sight and most pertinacious observer, and assuming various shapes, sometimes appearing spherical, sometimes reniform, or kidneyshaped, sometimes as at Fig. 67. 180. TRICHODA ORBIS. T. orbicularis, antice emarginata crinita. Orbicular, the forepart notched and hairy. It in some, respects resembles the former, but is larger. It is composed of vesicular molecules; is of a spherical figure, smooth, pellucid, and a little notched in the forepart. The notched part is filled with long hairs, but there are none on the rest of the body. 181. TRICHODA URNULA. T. urceolaris, antice crinita. Plate XXV. Fig. 64. This trichoda is in the form of a water pitcher, the forepart hairy. A membranaceous pellucid animalculum, the hindpart obtuse, the middle something broader, the forepart truncated, filled with vesicular black molecules; the hairs in the forepart are even and short. Its motion is slow. 182. TRICHODA DIOTA. T. urceolaris, antice angustata, ora apicis utrinque crinita. Pitchershaped trichoda, the forepart smallest; the upper part of the mouth hairy at the edges. The body is of a claycolour, and filled with molecules; the upperpart cylindrical and truncated, the lower part spherical. 183. TRICHODA HORRIDA. T. subconica antice latiuscula, truncata postice obtusa, setis radiantibus cincta. Trichoda somewhat of a conical form, the forepart rather broad and truncated, the lowerpart obtuse, and the whole covered with radiating bristles. 184. TRICHODA URINARIUM. T. ovata, rostro brevissimo crinito. Eggshaped, with a short hairy beak. 185. TRICHODA SEMILUNA. T. Semiorbicularis, antice subtus crinita. Semiorbicular, the forepart hairy underneath. A smooth pellucid animalculum, and shaped like a crescent. 186. TRICHODA TRIGONA. T. convexa, antice ciliata, postice erosa. Plate XXV. Fig. 63. Convex, the forepart ciliated, the hindpart as it were gnawed off. This is a triangular animalculum, a little convex on both sides, the forepart acute, the hindpart a little broader. A notch is seen at a, in the hindpart; b, the ciliated forepart; c, a tube. 187. TRICHODA TINEA. T. clavata, antice crinita, postice grossa. This is clubbed, the forepart hairy, the hindpart large. This animalculum is round, not very pellucid, narrow in the forepart, and resembling an inverted club; it is also like some of the tinea. 188. TRICHODA NIGRA. T. ovalis compressa, antice latior crinita. Oval, compressed trichoda, the forepart broader and hairy. The body is opake, when in violent motion it is black, when at rest one side is pellucid; the middle of the forepart is furnished with little moveable hairs. It was found in salt water. 189. TRICHODA PUBES. T. ovatooblonga gibba, antice depressa. Plate XXV. Fig. 61 and 62. An eggshaped oblong bunch, the forepart depressed. An animalculum with a bunch above the hindpart, marked with black spots, depressed towards the top, a little folded, and somewhat convex underneath; at least this is its appearance when in motion. Very minute hairs occupy the apex, but they are seldom visible till the creature is in the agonies of death, when it extends and moves them vehemently from an arched chink at top, apparently endeavouring to draw in the last drop of water. It is found in water where the duckweed grows, chiefly in December. b, the hairs; c, the black globules; a, the projecting bunch. 190. TRICHODA FLOCCUS. T. membranacea, antice subconica, papillis tribus crinitis. Membranaceous trichoda, the forepart rather conical; three small papill project from the base, which are set with hairs. 191. TRICHODA SINUATA. T. oblonga depressa, altero margine sinuato crinita, postice obtusa. An oblong depressed trichoda, one margin hollow and hairy, the lower end obtuse. The intestines seem to be more lymphatic than molecular; it is of a yellow colour, and the hollow edge ciliated. It was found in river water. 192. TRICHODA PRCEPS. T. membranacea, sublunata, medio protuberante, extorsum crinita. Membranaceous trichoda, somewhat lunated, protuberant in the middle, a row of hairs on the outside. A pellucid membrane, the forepart formed into a kind of neck, one edge rising into a protuberance like a humpback, the other edge convex. 193. TRICHODA PROTEUS. T. ovalis, postice obtusa, collo elongata retractile, apice crinito. Plate XXV. Fig. 56, 57, 58, 59, 60. Oval trichoda, the lowerpart obtuse, with a long neck, which it has a power of contracting or extending. Baker in his Employment for the Microscope, p. 260266, dignifies this animalculum with the name of proteus, on account of its assuming a great number of different shapes, so as scarce to be known for the same animal in its various transformations; and, indeed, unless it be carefully watched while passing from one shape to another, it will often become suddenly invisible. When water, wherein any kinds of vegetables have been infused, or animals preserved, has stood quietly for some days or weeks in a glass or other vessel, a slimy substance will be collected about the sides, some of which being taken up with the point of a penknife, placed on a slip of glass in a drop of water, and viewed through the microscope, will, be found to harbour several kinds of little animals that are seldom seen swimming about at large. The insect we are treating of is one of these, and was discovered in such slimelike matter taken from the side of a glass jar, in which small fishes, watersnails, and other creatures had been kept. Its body in substance and colour resembled that of a snail; the shape thereof was somewhat elliptical, but pointed at one end, whilst from the other proceeded a long, slender, and finely proportioned neck, terminated with a head, of a size perfectly suitable to the other parts of the animal. 194. TRICHODA VERSATILIS. T. oblonga, postice acuminata, collo retractili, infra apicem crinito. Oblong trichoda, the hindpart acute, with a neck that it can extend or contract at pleasure, the underpart of the extremity of the neck hairy. It resembles in some measure the trichoda proteus just described, but the neck is shorter, the apex less spherical, and the hinder part of the trunk acute. It lives in the sea. 195. TRICHODA GIBBA. T. oblonga, dorso gibbera, ventre excavata, antice ciliata, extremitatibus obtusis. Plate XXV. Fig. 55. Oblong trichoda, with a bunch on the back, the belly hollowed out, the forepart ciliated, both ends obtuse. The body is pellucid, the upper part swelled out, within it are numerous obscure molecules, and three large globules, the ends rather incline downwards; when the water begins to fail, a few minute hairs may be discovered about the head and at the abdomen; the body then becomes striated longitudinally. 196. TRICHODA FOETA. T. oblonga, dorso protuberante, antice ciliata, extremitatibus obtusis. Oblong trichoda, with the back protuberant, the forepart ciliated, both ends obtuse. The body is round and long, and when extended somewhat resembles a rollingpin in shape; both ends are obtuse, and one shorter than the other; it can draw in the ends and swell out the sides, so as to appear almost spherical. 197. TRICHODA PATENS. T. elongata, teres, antice foveata, fov marginibus ciliata. Plate XXV. Fig. 54. This trichoda is long, round, in the forepart it has a long hole, the edges of which are ciliated. It is a long cylindrical animalculum, filled with molecules; the forepart bright and clear, with a long opening, a, near the top, which tapers to a point, and is beset with hairs. It is found of different lengths in salt water. 198. TRICHODA PATULA. T. ventricosa, subovata, antice canaliculata, apice et caniculo crinito. Bigbellied, rather inclining towards an oval figure, with a small tube at the forepart, the upperend of which is covered with hairs. 199. TRICHODA FOVEATA. T. oblonga, latiuscula, antice corniculis micantibus, postice mutica. Oblong trichoda, rather broad, three little horns on the forepart, the hinderpart beardless. 200. TRICHODA STRIATA. T. oblonga, altero margine cursum, sinuata et ciliata, utraque extremitate obtusa. Oblong trichoda, one edge rather curved, and also furnished with a row of hairs; both extremities obtuse. It is a splendid animalculum, of a fox colour, and at first sight might be taken for a kolpoda. The body is oblong, the lower end somewhat larger than the other, the body becoming smaller at that part where the hairs commence; it has a set of streaks which run from one end to the other, and at the abdomen a double row of little eggs, lying in a transverse direction. It was found in river water in December. 201. TRICHODA UVULA. T. planiuscula elongata, qualis, antice crinita. Plate XXV. Fig. 53. Rather flat and long, of an equal size throughout, the forepart hairy. This animalculum is six times longer than broad, round, flexuous, and of an equal size; the greater part filled with obscure molecules; the forepart, a, rather empty, distinguished by an alimentary canal, and lucid globules near the middle, c; short hairs occupy the margin of the forepart, some are dispersed into a chink near the canal. It is found in an infusion of hay and other vegetables. 202. TRICHODA AURANTIA. T. subsinuata, ovata, antice patula, apice ad medium crinita. Trichoda somewhat sinuated, oval, the forepart broad, the apex hairy to the middle. It is of a gold colour, pellucid, and filled with a variety of vesicles. 203. TRICHODA IGNITA. T. ovata, apice acuminata, subtus fulcata, fulco crinito. Oval trichoda, the apex rather acute, the underpart furrowed, the furrows hairy. It is of a fine purple gold colour, somewhat of a reddish cast, pellucid, splendid, with a number of globules of different sizes; the forepart small, the hindpart obtuse, and having a very large opening, which appears to run through the body. 204. TRICHODA PRISMA. T. ovata, subtus convexa, supra in carinam compressa, antice angustior. Oval trichoda, the under part convex, the upper part compressed into a kind of keel, the forepart small. It is very small, and so transparent that it cannot easily be delineated; its form is singular, and no hairs can be observed. 205. TRICHODA FORCEPS. T. ovalis, antice forcipata, cruribus inqualibus crinitis. Oval trichoda, with a pair of forceps at the forepart, with unequal hairy legs. A large animalculum, somewhat depressed, of a pellucid yellow colour, and filled with molecules; in the lower part there is a black opake globule, the forepart is divided into long lobes, one of which is falciform and acute, the other dilated, and obliquely truncated; both the apex and the edge of these are furnished with hairs of different lengths; it can open, shut, or cross these lobes at pleasure; by this motion of them it appears to suck in the water. It was found about the winter solstice in water, covered with lemn. 206. TRICHODA FORFEX. T. ventrosa, antice forcipata, postice papilla duplici instructa. Round and prominent trichoda, the forepart formed into a kind of forceps, and two small protuberances. One of the forceps of this animalculum is twice as long as the other, hooked, and ciliated. It was found in river water. 207. TRICHODA INDEX. T. obovata, margine antico subtus crinito, alteroque apicis in degitum producto. Obovated trichoda, the under part of the front of the margin hairy, the apex is formed by the forepart, projecting like the finger on a directionpost. It was found in salt water. 208. TRICHODA S. T. striata, antice ciliata, extremitatibus in oppositum flexis. Striated trichoda, the fore part ciliated, the extremities bent in opposite directions. A yellow animalculum, formed of two pellucid membranes, striated longitudinally; the lower end is obliquely truncated. 209. TRICHODA NAVICULA. T. triquetra, antice truncata ciliata, postice acuta prominula. Threecornered trichoda, the forepart truncated and ciliated, the hindpart acute, and bent a little upwards. It has a crystalline appearance, rather broad, the under side towards the hinderpart convex, the forepart broad, the apex nearly a straight line, the bent end pointed and turned upwards; and a kind of longitudinal keel running down the middle. 210. TRICHODA SUCCISA. T. ovalis depressa, margine crinito, postice in crura inqualia erosa. Flattened oval trichoda, the edge hairy, the hinder part hollowed out so as to form two unequal legs. 211. TRICHODA SULCATA. T. ovatoventricosa, apice acuminata, fulco ventrali, utrinque crinito. Ovated ventricose trichoda, the apex acute, with a furrow at the abdomen, and both sides of it ciliated. 212. TRICHODA ANAS. T. elongata, apice colli subtus crinito. Plate XXV. Fig. 49. Long, the apex of the neck underneath hairy. A smooth animalculum, five times broader than it is long, filled with darkish molecules; it has a bright neck, b c; under the top of the neck at d a few unequal hairs are perceptible. Its motions are languid. It is found in pure water. 213. TRICHODA BARBATA. T. elongata, teres, subtus ab apice ad medium crinita. Long trichoda, round, the under part from the apex to the middle hairy. This animalculum is round, somewhat linear, with both ends obtuse; the forepart narrower, forming as it were a kind of neck, under which is a row of fluctuating hairs. The trunk is full of grey molecules. 214. TRICHODA FARCIMEN. T. elongata, torulosa, setulis cincta. Plate XXV. Fig. 50 and 52. Long and thick trichoda, surrounded with small bristles. The body is long, round, pellucid, and covered with very minute hairs; it has also a great number of mucid vesicles about the body. 215. TRICHODA CRINITA. T. elongata, teres, undique ciliata, subtus ad medium usque crinita. Long trichoda, round, everywhere ciliated on the upper part, and the under part likewise hairy as far as the middle. 216. TRICHODA ANGULUS. T. angulata, apice crinita. Angular, the apex hairy. This animalculum is long, more convex than most of the genus, divided by a kind of articulation into two parts equal in breadth, but of different lengths, the forepart being shorter than the hindpart; the apex furnished with short waving hair, indistinct molecules withinside, no hair on the hindpart. 217. TRICHODA LINTER. T. ovato oblonga, utraque extremitate prominula. Plate XXV. Fig. 51. The shape of an oblong egg, with prominences at both extremities. Both extremities of the body are raised, so that the bottom becomes convex, and the upper part depressed like a boat. It varies in shape at different ages, and sometimes has a rotatory motion. It is found in an infusion of old grass. 218. TRICHODA PAXILLUS. T. linearis depressa, antice truncata crinitaque, postice obtusa. Linear flat trichoda, the forepart truncated and hairy, the hinderpart obtuse. A long animalculum, full of grey molecules; the forepart rather smaller than the hindpart, and furnished with minute hairs. It was found in salt water. 219. TRICHODA VERMICULARIS. T. elongata, cylindracea, collo brevi, apice crinito. Plate XXVII. Fig. 1. Long cylindrical trichoda, with a short neck, the apex hairy. Gelatinous, the forepart pellucid, the hindpart full of molecules. It was found in river water. It is represented in different appearances in the figure; a, the neck; b, the hairs; c, a little vesicle in the hinderpart. 220. TRICHODA MELITA. T. oblonga, ciliata, colli dilatabilis, apice globoso, pilifero. Plate XXVII. Fig. 3. Oblong ciliated trichoda, with a dilatable neck, the apex globular, and surrounded with hairs, the edge is ciliated, and a kind of peristaltic motion perceivable in it. It is found, in salt water, though but very rarely. a, the neck; b, the globular apex; c, the body ciliated. 221. TRICHODA FIMBRIATA. T. obovata, apice crinita, postice oblique truncata, serrata. Plate XXVII. Fig. 2. Obovated trichoda, the apex hairy, the hinderpart obliquely truncated and serrated. 222. TRICHODA CAMELUS. T. antice crinita, crassiuscula medio utrinque emarginata. Thick, and the forepart hairy, with notches on the middle and each side. The forepart of the body is ventricose; the back divided by an incision in the middle into two tubercles; the lower part of the belly sinuated; its motions are languid. It is found, though not often, in vegetable infusions. 223. TRICHODA AUGUR. T. oblonga, vertice truncata, antico corporis margine, superne pedata, inferne setosa. The body is oblong, depressed, pellucid, and filled with molecules; the vertex truncated, the forepart forming a small beak; underneath are three feet; beyond these, towards the hinderpart, it is furnished with bristles. 224. TRICHODA PUPA. T. cucullata, fronte crinita, cauda inflexa, This trichoda is hooded, the front hairy, the tail inflected. The body is rather round, pellucid and consists of three parts; the head, which is broad, appears to be hooded, the top being furnished with very small hairs; a transparent vesicle occupies the lower region of the head; and over the breast from the base of the head is suspended a production resembling the sheath of the feet in the pupa of the gnat. 225. TRICHODA LUNARIS. T. arcuata, teres, apice crinita, cirro, caudali inflexo. Arched trichoda, round, the apex hairy, the tail bent. This animalculum is round and crystalline; the hindpart somewhat smaller than the forepart; the intestines are with difficulty distinguished. The edge of the back and the part near the tail are bright and clear. It bends itself into the form of an arch. 226. TRICHODA BILUNIS. T. arcuata, depressa, apice crinita, cauda biseta. Arched flattened trichoda, the apex hairy, and two little bristles proceeding from the tail. 227. TRICHODA RATTUS. T. oblonga, carinata, antice crinita, postice seta longissima. Plate XXVII. Fig. 4. Oblong trichoda, with a kind of keel; the forepart hairy, and a very long bristle proceeding from the hinderpart. a, the mouth; b, a small knob at the bending of the tail; c, the tail. 228. TRICHODA TIGRIS. T. subcylindrica, elongata, apice crinita, cauda setis duabus longis. This trichoda is long, and somewhat cylindrical, the apex hairy, the tail divided into two long bristles. It resembles the former, but differs in the form of the tail, which consists of two bristles, and likewise in having a kind of incision in the body, at some little distance from the apex. 229. TRICHODA POCILLUM. T. oblonga, antice truncata, crinita, cauda articulata, biseta. Plate XXVII. Fig. 5 and 6. Oblong trichoda, the forepart truncated and hairy, the tail articulated, and divided into two bristles. The body is cylindrical, pellucid, muscular, and capable of being folded up; it appears double; the interior part is full of molecules, with an orbicular muscular appendage which it can open and shut, and this forms the mouth. The external part is membranaceous, pellucid, dilated, and marked with transverse streaks; the animalculum can protrude or withdraw the orbicular membrane at pleasure. Some have four articulations in the tail, others five; and it has two pair of bristles, or projecting parts, one placed at the second joint, the other at the last. It has been frequently found in marshes. In Fig. 6 it is seen with the mouth open; in Fig. 5, with it shut, a a, the jaws; b b, the first bristles; c c, the second pair; d, the spine at the tail. 230. TRICHODA CLAVUS. T. antice rotundata, crinita, postice acuminatocaudata. The forepart round and hairy, the hindpart furnished with a sharp tail. This animalculum has a considerable resemblance to a common nail. 231. TRICHODA CORNUTA. T. supra convexa, subtus plana, apice crinita, cauda lineari simplici. Trichoda with the upper part convex, the under side plain, the apex hairy, the tail linear and simple. To these characters we may add, that the body is membranaceous, elliptical, closely filled with molecules; the forepart lunated, the hinderpart round, and terminating in a tail as long as the body. 232. TRICHODA GALLINA. T. elongata, antice sinuata, fronte crinita, cauda pilosa. Long trichoda, the forepart sinuated, the front hairy, the tail formed of small hairs. It is of a grey colour, flat, with seven large molecules and globules within it, the front obtuse, and set with hairs; the hinderpart terminating in a tail formed of very fine hairs. It was found in river water. 233. TRICHODA MUSCULUS. T. ovalis, antice crinita, postice subtus caudata. Plate XXVII. Fig. 7. Eggshaped, the forepart hairy, the tail projecting from the under part. A smooth eggshaped animalculum, with a double margin or line drawn underneath it; the forepart narrow, and furnished with short hairs, which are continually playing about; underneath the hindpart is a small tail. It has molecular intestines, and moves slowly. It is found in infusions of hay which have been kept for some months, a, the head; b, the tail. 234. TRICHODA DELPHIS. T. clavata, fronte crinita, cauda acuminata, subreflexa. Clubbed trichoda, the front hairy, the tail small and rather bent upwards. It is smooth and pellucid, having the forepart dilated into a semicircle, gradually decreasing in breadth towards the tail; the front is hairy, the hairs standing as rays from the semicircular edge; one of these edges is sometimes contracted. It is to be found in river water. 235. TRICHODA DELPHINUS. T. oblonga, antice crinita, postice cauda reflexa truncata. Plate XXVII. Fig. 8. Oblong, the forepart hairy; in the hindpart is the tail, which is turned back, the end of it truncated. A pellucid, smooth, eggshaped animalculum; the hindpart terminating in a tail about half the length of the body, dilated at the upper end, truncated, and always bent upwards. In the inside are vesicles of an unequal size; it moves sometimes on its belly, sometimes on its side; the tail seldom varies its position. It was found in hay which had been infused for some months, a, the hairs on the forepart; b, the tail. 236. TRICHODA CLAVA. T. clavata, fronte crinita, cauda reflexili. Club trichoda, the forepart hairy, the tail turned back. The forepart is thick, the hindpart narrow; both extremities obtuse, pellucid, and replete with molecules; the hindpart bent down towards the middle. 237. TRICHODA CUNICULUS. T. oblonga, antice crinita, postice subacuminata. Oblong, the forepart hairy, the hindpart rather acute, filled with molecules and black vesicles. 238. TRICHODA FELIS. T. curvata, grossa, antice angustior, postice in caudam attenuata, subtus longitudinaliter crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 9. Curved trichoda, large, the forepart small, the hinderpart gradually diminishing into a tail; the under part set longitudinally with hairs. a, the head; b, the tail; c, the hairs. 239. TRICHODA PISCIS. T. oblongata, antice crinita, postice in caudam exquisitam attenuata. Plate XXVII. Fig. 13 and 14. Oblong, the forepart is hairy, the hindpart terminating in a very slender tail. It is smooth, pellucid, much longer than broad, but of nearly an equal breadth throughout, and filled with yellow molecules; the forepart obtuse, the hindpart exquisitely slender and transparent; the upper side is convex. a, the forepart; b, the tail. 240. TRICHODA LARUS. T. elongata, teres, crinita, cuspidi caudali duplici. Long, round trichoda, surrounded with hairs, the tail divided into two points. See Zoologia Danica. 241. TRICHODA LONGICAUDA. T. cylindracea, antice truncata et crinita, cauda elongata, biarticulata et biseta. Plate XXVII. Fig. 10. Cylindrical trichoda, the forepart truncated and surrounded with hairs, the tail long, furnished with two bristles, and having two joints. a, the hairs at the mouth; d, the oesophagus; e, the articulation of the tail; f, the bristles. 242. TRICHODA FIXA. T. sphrica, peripheria crinita, pedicello solitario. Spherical trichoda; this has the circumference set with hairs, and a little solitary pedicle projecting from the body. 243. TRICHODA INQUILINUS. T. vaginata, folliculo cylindrico hyalino, pedicello intra folliculum retortili. Sheathed trichoda, in a cylindrical transparent bag, having a little pedicle bent back within the bag. See Zool. Dan. prodr. addend. p. 281. 244. TRICHODA INGENITA. T. vaginata, folliculo depressa, basi latiore sessilis. Sheathed trichoda, the bag depressed, the base broadest. The animalculum that is contained in this sheath is funnelshaped, with one or more hairs, proceeding from each side of the mouth of the funnel. It can extend or contract itself freely in the bag, fixing its tail to the base, without touching the sides. It was found in salt water. 245. TRICHODA INNATA. T. vaginata, folliculo cylindrico, pedicello extra folliculum. Plate XXVII. Fig. 11. Trichoda sheathed in a cylindrical bag, with a pedicle passing through and projecting beyond it. These characters distinguish it sufficiently from the preceding one. b, the animalculum in the sheath; d, the tail. 246. TRICHODA TRANSFUGA. T. latiuscula, antice crinita, postice setosa, altero latere sinuata, altero mucronata. Broad trichoda, the forepart hairy, the hinderpart full of bristles; one side sinuated, and the other pointed. See Zool. Dan. prod. addend. p. 281. 247. TRICHODA CILIATA. T. ventricosa, postice crinibus pectinata. Ventricose, the hinderpart covered with hair. See Zool. Dan. Icon. Tab. 73, Fig. 13, 15. 248. TRICHODA BULLA. T. membranacea, lateribus inflexis, antice et postice crinita. Membranaceous trichoda, the sides bent inwards; the fore and hindpart are both furnished with hairs. 249. TRICHODA PELLIONELLA. T. cylindracea, antice crinita, postice setosa. Cylindrical, the forepart hairy, the hinderpart furnished with bristles. This trichoda is rather thick in the middle, and pellucid, with a few molecules here and there, the sides obtuse, the forepart ciliated with very fine hairs, the hind part terminating in a kind of bristles. 250. TRICHODA CYLLIDIUM. T. ovata, apice hiante, basique crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 15. Eggshaped, the apex gaping, the base hairy. Pellucid, the hinder extremity filled with globules of various sizes, the forepart narrower, without any appearance of an external organ. It vacillates upon the edge, commonly advancing on its flat side, and continually drawing in water; it then gapes, and opens into a very acute angle, almost to the middle of the body; but this is done so instantaneously, that it is scarcely perceptible. a, the mouth; b, the hairs or bristles, which it extends when nearly expiring. 251. TRICHODA CURSOR. T. ovata, antice crinita, postice duplici pilorum strictorum et curvorum fasciculo. Oval trichoda, the forepart hairy, and the hinderpart also furnished with some straight and curved hairs in two fascicles. The body is flat and filled with molecules; in the forepart is an oblong empty space, into which we may sometimes see the water sucked in. 252. TRICHODA PULEX. T. ovata, antice incisa, fronte et basi crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 12. Eggshaped, with an incision in the forepart; the front and base hairy. a, the anterior part; b, the posterior part; c, the incision. 253. TRICHODA LYNCEUS. T. subquadrata, rostro adunco, ore crinito. Plate XXVII. Fig. 16. Nearly square, with a crooked beak, the mouth hairy. At first sight it does not seem very dissimilar to some of the monoculi. The body is membranaceous, and appears compressed, stretched out into a beak above, the lower part truncated; under the beak is a little bundle of hairs; the lower edge bends in and out, and is surrounded with a few bristles. The intestines are beautifully visible, and a small bent tube goes from the mouth to them in the middle of the body; these, as well as the tube, are in frequent agitation. There is likewise another tube between the fore and hind edge filled with a blue liquor. a, the beak; b, the mouth; c, the base. 254. TRICHODA EROSA. T. orbicularis, antice emarginata, altero latere crinita, postice setosa. Orbicular trichoda, the forepart notched; one side furnished with hairs, the hinderpart with bristles. 255. TRICHODA ROSTRATA. T. depressa, mutabilis, flavescens, ciliis longis setisque pediformibus. Depressed trichoda, mutable, yellow, with long ciliated hairs, and feet tapering to a point. The figure of the body is generally triangular; the apex formed into an obtuse beak, which the animalculum sometimes draws in, so that it appears quite round; the feet are four in number, one of them is longer than the rest; both feet and hairs are within the margin. It is found in water where duckweed has been kept. 256. TRICHODA LAGENA. T. teres, ventricosa, rostro producta, postice setosa. Round ventricose trichoda, with a long neck, and the lower end set with bristles. 257. TRICHODA CHARON. T. cymbiformis fulcata, antice et postice crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 17 and 18. Boatshaped trichoda with furrows, the fore and hindparts both hairy. The body is oval; it resembles a boat as well in its motion as shape; the upper part is hollowed, the under part furrowed and convex; the stern round, with several hairs proceeding from it. It was found in salt water. Fig. 17, a, the head; b, the tail. Fig. 18, d, a pellucid bubble that is sometimes to be perceived. 258. TRICHODA CIMEX. T. ovalis, marginibus lucidis, antice et postice crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 19. Oval trichoda, with a lucid margin, both the fore and hindpart hairy. It is about the size of the trichoda lynceus, No. 253, has an oval body, with a convex back, flat belly, and an incision in the margin of the forepart, the edges of which incision appear to be in motion. Its intestines are pellucid and illdefined. When it meets with any obstacles in swimming, it makes use of four small bristles, which are fixed to the under side, as feet. a, the hairs in the forepart; b, the bristles at the hindpart; d, the back; e, two small projecting hairs; f, the substance to which the animalculum has affixed itself. 259. TRICHODA CICADA. T. ovalis, marginibus obscuris, antice et subtus crinita, postice mutica. Oval trichoda, with an obscure margin, the forepart covered with hairs on the under side, and the hinderpart beardless. It does not differ considerably from the preceding, though Mller has pointed out some shades by which they may be discriminated. XIV. KERONA. Vermis inconspicuus corniculatus. An invisible worm with horns. 260. KERONA RASTELLUM. K. orbicularis membranacea, nasuta, corniculis in tota pagina. Membranaceous, orbicular kerona, with one projecting point, the upper surface covered with small horns. There are three rows of horns on the back, which nearly occupy the whole of it. It was found in river water. 261. KERONA LYNCASTER. K. subquadrata, rostro obtuso, disco corniculis micantibus. This species of kerona is rather square, and its disc furnished with shining horns. See Zool. Dan. prod. add. p. 281. 262. KERONA HISTRIO. K. oblonga, antice punctis mucronatis nigris, postice pinnulis longitudinalibus instructa. Plate XXVII. Fig. 20. It is an oblong membrane, pellucid, with four or five black points in the forepart, which are continually changing their situation, thick set with small globules in the middle, among which four larger ones are sometimes perceived, these are probably eggs; in the middle space of the hindpart are some longitudinal strokes resembling bristles, which, however, do not seem to project beyond the body. b, the horns; c, some hairs; d, a solitary horn; e, a large globule; f, some bristles. 263. KERONA CYPRIS. K. obovata, versus postica superne sinuata, antice crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 21. Eggshaped, towards the hindpart sinuated, the forepart hairy. This animalculum is compressed, and somewhat of a pearshape; the forepart broad and blunt; the front is furnished with short hairs or little vibrating points inserted under the edge a, shorter in the hindpart e, partly extended straight, and partly bent down, having a retrograde motion. It is found in water which is covered with lemna. 264. KERONA HAUSTRUM. K. orbiculata, corniculis mediis, antice membranacea ciliata, postice setosa. Orbicular kerona, with the horns in the middle, the forepart membranaceous and ciliated, and several bristles at the hinderpart. 265. KERONA HAUSTELLUM. Differs from the preceding only in having the hinderpart without any bristles. 266. KERONA PATELLA. K. univalvis, antice emarginata corniculata, postice setis flexilibus pendulis. Plate XXVII. Fig. 22 and 23. Kerona with a univalved shell, orbicular, crystalline; the forepart somewhat notched; the fleshy body lies in the middle of the shell; above and below are hairs or horns of different lengths jutting out beyond the shell, and acting instead of feet and oars, some of which are bent; the superior ones constitute a double transverse row. a, the forepart; b, the horns; d, a lunated figure in the shell; c, a pulpous body; f, bristles at the hinderpart. 267. KERONA VANNUS. K. ovalis subdepressa, margine altero flexo, opposito ciliato, corniculis anticis, setisque posticis. Oval and rather flat kerona, with one edge bent, the opposite one ciliated, the front furnished with horns, and the hindpart with bristles. 268. KERONA PULLASTER. K. ovata, antice sinuata, fronte crestata, basi crinita. Plate XXVII. Fig. 24 and 25. Oval, the forepart sinuated, a crest on the front, the base hairy. It agrees in many respects with the trichoda pulex, No. 252; but the upper part is pellucid, without any black molecules; the front truncated, the whole surface of the head covered with hair, and the forepart sinuous. a, the horns; b, the hairs at the hinderpart; c, the cilia of the front. 269. KERONA MYTILLUS. K. subclavata, utraque extremitate latiori, hyalina ciliata. Plate XXVII. Fig. 29. Rather clubbed, broad at both extremities, clear and ciliated. A large animalculum, the fore and hindpart rounded, very pellucid and white, dark in the middle, with black intestines, intermixed with a few pellucid vesicles; both extremities appear as if composed of two thin plates. The forepart is ciliated, the hairs short, lying within the margin; it is also ornamented with two small horns, erected from an obscure mass; with these it agitates the water, forming a little whirlpool. The hindpart is likewise ciliated, and furnished with two bristles, extending beyond the margin. a, the horns; b, the forepart ciliated; c, the hindpart; d, projecting bristles. 270. KERONA LEPUS. K. ovata, apice crinito, basi setosa. Eggshaped, the forepart hairy, the base furnished with bristles. The body is eggshaped, compressed, pellucid, and crowned with short waving hairs, the base terminating with bristles. 271. KERONA SILURUS. K. oblonga, antice et postice crinita, dorso ciliato. Oblong, the fore and hindpart hairy, the back ciliated. An oval smooth animalculum, somewhat crooked and opake, with a fascicle of vibrating hair on the forepart; it has a sharp tail, furnished with unequal rows of moveable hairs, producing a rotatory motion; in the inside are some partly lucid, and partly opake points. The figure varies from oval to oblong, the filaments of the conferva are often entangled in the tail. 272. KERONA CALVITIUM. R. latiuscula, oblonga, antice corniculis micantibus. Rather broad, oblong, with glittering horns on the forepart. The body is rather broad and flat, both sides obtuse, filled with black molecules, and there is a dark spot near the hinderpart, where there are likewise a few short bristles. The interjacent vesicles are pellucid; no hairs on the forepart, but instead thereof two little moveable horns, and from three to five moveable black points. It is found in the infusions of vegetables. 273. KERONA PUSTULATA. K. ovalis convexa, postice altero margine sinuata, utraque extremitate crinita, corniculisque anticis. Oval, convex, kerona, one edge of the hinderpart sinuated, both ends set with hairs, and some horns placed on the forepart. This animalculum was found in salt water. XV. HIMANTOPUS. Vermis inconspicuus, pellucidus, cirratus. A pellucid, invisible, cirrated127 worm. 127 That is, furnished with a tuft or lock of hair. 274. HIMANTOPUS ACARUS. H. ventrosus, postice cirratus, antice acuminatus. Plate XXVII. Fig. 27. Round and prominent himantopus, the hinderpart cirrated, the forepart sharp. It is a lively, conical, ventricose animalculum, full of black molecules, the forepart bright and transparent. The apex, which has long hairs on the under part set like rays, is more or less attenuated, at the will of the little creature; four locks of long and crooked hair, or feet, proceed from the belly; and it is continually moving these and the other hairs in various directions. It is found, though seldom, where the lemna grows. a, the apex; b, the ciliated part; c, the feet. 275. HIMANTOPUS LUDIO. H. cirrata, supra crinita, cauda sursum extensa. Plate XXVII. Fig. 26. Curled himantopus, the upper part hairy, the tail extended upwards. This is a lively and diverting animalculum, smooth, pellucid, full of small points, the forepart clubbed and a little bent, the hindpart narrow; the base obliquely truncated, and terminating in a tail stretched out transversely. The top of the head, and the middle of the back b, are furnished with long vibrating hairs; three moveable and flexible curls a, are suspended from the side of the head, at a distance from each other. When the animalculum is at rest, its tail is curled; but when in motion, it is drawn tight, and extended upwards, frequently appearing as if it were cleft, as at f. 276. HIMANTOPUS SANNIO. H. incurvata, supra ciliata, infra crinita. Crooked himantopus, the upper part ciliated, the under part hairy. This very much resembles the himantopus ludio, the cilia are longer than the hairs, and are continually vibrating; it has two moveable curls hanging on the side of the head. Is found, though seldom, in water where the lemna grows. 277. HIMANTOPUS VOLUTATOR. H. lunatus, antice cirratus. Lunated himantopus, the forepart hairy. A very lively animalculum, often turning round in a circular direction. Its shape is that of a crescent, with some crystalline points; the convex part is furnished with a row of hairs, which are longest towards the tail, and underneath are four feet. 278. HIMANTOPUS LARVA. H. elongatus, medio cirratus. Long himantopus, cirrated in the middle. The body is rather depressed and long; the hinderparts acute, and generally curved, pellucid, and filled with granular molecules. Its motion resembles that of the himantopus ludio, No. 275, but its figure, and the situation of its parts are different. 279. HIMANTOPUS CHARON. H. cymbformis fulcata, in fovea ventrali cirrata. Boatshaped furrowed himantopus, the hollow part of the belly cirrated. An oval pellucid membrane, the forepart hairy, furrowed longitudinally, each side bent up, so as to form an intermediate hollow place, or belly, filled with grey molecules; beneath the middle it has several bent diverging rows of hairs; no hairs on the hinderpart. It is found in sea water, but rarely. 280. HIMANTOPUS CORONA. H. semiorbiculata, depressa, in utraque pagina cirrata. Semiorbicular himantopus, flattened, both sides cirrated. A membranaceous lamina, very thin, pellucid, crystalline, and semilunar; the edge of the base is thick set with molecular intestines; the forepart furnished with short hairs, or a kind of mane; towards the hindpart are three equal curved hairs, or spines. XVI. VORTICELLA. Vermis contractilis, nudus, ciliis rotatoriis. A naked worm, with rotatory cilia, capable of contracting and extending itself. 281. VORTICELLA CINCTA. V. trapeziformis, nigroviridis, opaca. Plate XXVII. Fig. 30. This vorticella is in the form of a trapezium, of a blackish green colour, and opake. It is of an irregular shape, sometimes assuming an oval figure, and appearing as if girt round with a transverse keel, a. It is invisible to the naked eye, ciliated on every side; the hairs all moveable, and longer on one side than the other. 282. VORTICELLA SPHROIDA. V. cylindricoglobosa, uniformis, opaca. A globous cylinder, uniform and opake. To the naked eye this appears also little more than a point, but the microscope exhibits it as a globular mass of a dark green colour. It occasions a vehement motion in the surrounding water, which is probably effected by some very short hairs, which are perceptible. 283. VORTICELLA VIRIDIS. V. cylindracea, uniformis, viridis opaca. Plate XXVII. Fig. 31. Cylindrical, uniform, green, and opake. This vorticella is visible to the naked eye, appearing like a minute green point; but the microscope discovers it to be nearly cylindrical, of a dark green colour, a little thicker at the forepart a, than the hinderpart b, and both extremities obtuse. It appears to be totally destitute of limbs; notwithstanding which, it keeps the water in constant motion; so that it has probably some invisible rotatory instrument. It does not change its figure. Its motion is sometimes circular, at others, in a straight line. At c, some short hairs are visible. 284. VORTICELLA LUNIFERA. V. viridis, postice lunata, medio margine mucronato. Green vorticella, the hinder part lunated, with a point in the middle projecting from the edge. The forepart obtuse, the base broad, and hollowed away like a crescent, with a protuberance in the middle of the concave part shorter than the horns or points of the crescent; the forepart is ciliated. It is found in salt water. 285. VORTICELLA BURSATA. V. viridis, apertura truncata, papillaque centrali. Plate XXVII. Fig. 32. Green vorticella, the aperture truncated, with a central papillary projection. Round and prominent, filled with molecules; the forepart truncated, and both sides of it pellucid; in the center of the aperture there is a prominent papilla or nipple, which when the animalculum is at rest, appears notched; the edge of the aperture is surrounded with cilia; these are sometimes all erect, shining, and in motion, or part bent back and quiescent, and part in motion; sometimes a few of them are collected together, and turned back like little hooks, one on each side. It is found in salt water. a, the cilia; b, the projecting papilla; c, the pellucid space at the forepart. 286. VORTICELLA VARIA. V. cylindrica, truncata, opaca, nigricans. Cylindrical, truncated, opake, blackishcoloured vorticella, the forepart ciliated. 287. VORTICELLA SPUTARIUM. V. ventrosa, apertura orbiculari, ciliis longis raris excentricis. Round and prominent, with an orbicular aperture, and long hairs radiating as from a center. This is one of the most singular of the microscopic animalcula; when viewed sidewise, it is sometimes nearly cylindrical, but somewhat tapering towards the hinderpart, and having a broad pellucid edge; viewed from the top, it has sometimes a broad face or disc furnished with radiating hairs, the under part contracted into a globular shape, of a dark green colour, and filled with small grains. It was found in October with the lesser lemna. 288. VORTICELLA NIGRA. V. trochiformis nigra. Plate XXVII. Fig. 36 and 37. Topshaped black vorticella. This may be seen with the naked eye, appearing like a black point swimming on the surface of the water; the microscope exhibits it as a minute conical body, opake, obtuse, and ventricose at one extremity, and acute at the other. When it extends the extremities, two small white hooks become visible; by the assistance of these it moves in the water, and it is probable from some circumstances that they inclose a rotatory organ. It moves continually in a vacillating manner on the top of the water. It is found in August, in meadows that are covered with water. a, the rotatory organ; b, the two small hooks; c, the acute end. 289. VORTICELLA MULTIFORMIS. V. viridis, opaca, varia, vesiculis sparsis. Green, opake, variable vorticella, with vesicles scattered about the body. The vesicles of this vorticella are larger; in other respects it so much resembles the preceding one, that a further description is unnecessary. It is found in salt water. 290. VORTICELLA POLYMORPHA. V. multiformis, viridis, opaca. Plate XXVII. Fig. 33, 34, 35. Manyshaped vorticella, green, opake. To the naked eye it appears like a green point, moving with great agility; but, when viewed through a microscope, it assumes such a variety of forms, that they can neither be exhibited to the eye by drawings, nor described by words; it is truly one of the wonders of nature, astonishing the mind, fatiguing the eye, and continually exciting the beholder to ask, Quo teneam vultus mutantem protea nodo? The body is granulous, and a series of pellucid points is sometimes to be observed, as at b b. Fig. 33, 34, 35, represent this vorticella in three different forms; a, the forepart; g, the hindpart; c, the forepart simple; d, the forepart turned in or doubled. 291. VORTICELLA CUCULLUS. V. elongata, teres, apertura oblique truncata. This vorticella is long, round, the aperture or mouth obliquely truncated. This being visible to the naked eye, may likewise be ranked among the larger vorticell. The body is somewhat conical, of a dingy red colour; its shape has been compared to that of a grenadiers cap. 292. VORTICELLA UTRICULATA. V. Viridis, ventricosa, productilis, antice truncata. Green vorticella, the belly round and prominent, capable of being lengthened or shortened; the forepart truncated, much in the shape of a common waterbottle; the neck is sometimes very long, at others, very short, and filled with green molecules. 293. VORTICELLA OCREATA. V. subcubica, infra in angulum obtusum producta. This vorticella is somewhat of a cubical figure, the under part bent in an obtuse angle. It is a very singular animalculum, in shape somewhat resembling the lower part of a boot; the apex of the upper part or leg is truncated and ciliated, the heel pointed, and the foot round. It is to be found in rivers, though very rarely. 294. VORTICELLA VALGA. V. cubica, infra divaricata. Cubical vorticella, the lower part divaricated. This is as broad as long, and filled with grey molecules, the apex truncated and ciliated; both angles of the base projecting outwards, one somewhat like a wart, the other like a finger. It is found in marshy waters. 295. VORTICELLA PAPILLARIS. V. ventricosa, antice truncata, papilla caudali et laterali hyalina. Bigbelled vorticella, the forepart truncated, with a papillary tail, and a splendid papillary excrescence on the side. It is found in marshes where the conferva nitida grows. 296. VORTICELLA SACCULUS. V. cylindracea, apertura repanda, margine reflexo. Cylindrical vorticella, the aperture broad and flat, the edge turned down. A thick animalculum, of an equal diameter everywhere, and filled with molecules; the edge of the mouth is bent back, the hinderpart obtuse, sometimes notched and contracted, with cilia on both sides of the mouth. 297. VORTICELLA CIRRATA. V. ventrosa, apertura sinuata, cirro utrinque ventrali. Bigbellied vorticella, the aperture sinuated, two tufts of hair on each side of the belly. It is found in ditch water. 298. VORTICELLA NASUTA. V. cylindracea, crateris medio mucrone prominente. Plate XXVII. Fig. 38, 39. Cylindrical, with a prominent point in the middle of the cup. An animalculum that is invisible to the naked eye; but the microscope discovers it to be furnished with a rotatory organ, which encompasses the middle of the body. It is pellucid, cylindrical, of an unequal size; the forepart, a, truncated and ciliated, and a triangular prominence, e, in the middle of the aperture; the hindpart is obtuse, with a point on each side of the middle of the body. This is the appearance of the little creature when in motion; but when the water is nearly exhaled, some further parts of its structure are rendered visible; two rotatory organs are now observable; one on the forepart, and the other encompassing the middle of the body, h h; the hairs of the latter are in vehement motion. Other fascicles of moving hair may likewise be observed, and the variegated and quick motion of this apparatus is very surprizing, especially if the animalculum be big with young, moving at the same time within the mother. 299. VORTICELLA STELLINA. V. orbicularis, disco moleculari, peripheria ciliata. Orbicular vorticella, with a molecular disc, and ciliated margin. 300. VORTICELLA DISCINA. V. orbicularis, margine ciliato, subtus convexoansata. Plate XXVI. Fig. 8, 9, 10. Orbicular vorticella, the edge ciliated, with a kind of convex handle on the underside. 301. VORTICELLA SCYPHINA. V. craterformis, crystallina, medio sprula opaca. Bowlshaped vorticella, crystalline, with an opake spherule in the middle. 302. VORTICELLA ALBINA. V. cylindrica, postice acuminata. The forepart cylindrical, the hinderpart tapering, and ending nearly in a point. 303. VORTICELLA FRITILLINA. V. cylindrica vacua, apice truncata, ciliis prlongis. Empty cylindrical vorticella, the apex truncated. 304. VORTICELLA TRUNCATELLA. V. cylindrica, differta, apice truncata, cyliis breviusculis. Cylindrical vorticella, stuffed or filled, the apex truncated, with very short cilia. This is one of the larger kind of animalcula; the body is crystalline, and replete with black molecules; the skin is perfectly smooth and colourless, the hinder extremity rounded, and the anterior truncated; at this extremity there is a large opening thickly ciliated, which serves as a mouth. 305. VORTICELLA LIMACINA. V. cylindrica, truncata, ciliis bigeminis. Plate XXVII. Fig. 60. Cylindrical truncated vorticella, with two pair of cilia. 306. VORTICELLA FRAXININA. V. gregaria, cylindracea, oblique truncata, ciliis bigeminis, apice margine fissa. Gregarious cylindrical vorticella, obliquely truncated, with two pair of cilia, and a fissure or notch at the upper edge. The greater part of the body is cylindrical; the hinderpart rather tapering, and filled with opake molecules; towards the upper end it is transparent; within the edge, at the top are two small tubercles, from each side of which proceed a pair of small hairs. 307. VORTICELLA CRATEGARIA. V. composita, floribus muticis globosis; tentaculis binis, stirpe ramosa, Plate XXII. Fig. 40. Compound, with globous naked florets, two tentacules, and a branched stem. For an ample description of this animalculum, see page 400. 308. VORTICELLA HAMATA. V. bursformis, margine apertur aculeis rigidis. Plate XXVII. Fig. 40. Purseformed; the edge of its aperture or mouth set with rigid points. It is not ciliated, nor have any hairs been discovered upon it; the body is granulated, the forepart broad and truncated, the hinderpart obtuse, and capable of being contracted or extended. a, the rigid points. 309. VORTICELLA CRATERIFORMIS. V. subquadrata, ciliorum fasciculis etiam postice. Plate XXVII. Fig. 40, 41. Approaching somewhat to a square figure, with fascicles of cilia even at the hinderpart. A lively animalculum, pellucid, round, longer than it is broad, with convex sides; the head is situated at the large end, the skin smooth, and some traces of intestines may be discovered with difficulty. There is a considerable opening surrounded with hair at the larger end, and the filaments composing it are in continual motion. Two of them are sometimes seen joined together, as at Fig. 41, and full of small spherules; in this state they draw each other alternately different ways, the surface is smooth and the hairs invisible. e, moveable cilia. 310. VORTICELLA CANALICULATA. V. dilatata, pellucida, latere inciso. Dilated, pellucid, with an incision in the side. To the naked eye it appears as so many white points adhering to the sides of the glass; when magnified, the anterior part is narrower than the hind one; in the side a kind of incision may be perceived, and the hindpart is a little notched towards the middle; it is furnished with a rotatory organ, with which it excites a continual whirling motion in the water. 311. VORTICELLA VERSATILIS. V. elongata spiculiformis, mox urceolaris. Long spearformed vorticella, but which often changes its shape into a pitcherlike form. A pellucid, gelatinous animalculum, of a greenish colour, furnished with small radii, particularly about the circumference, which gives it the appearance of a minute water hedgehog. 312. VORTICELLA AMPULLA. V. folliculo ampulaceo, pellucido, capite bilobo. Plate XXVI. Fig. 4 and 5. This vorticella is contained in a pellucid bottleshaped bag, the head divided into two lobes. Little more need be said to enable the reader to know this animalculum, if he should meet with it, than to observe that the bag is nearly in the shape of the common waterbottle, and that the animalculum is sometimes to be observed at the bottom of it, sometimes nearly filling it. 313. VORTICELLA FOLLICULATA. V. oblonga, folliculo cylindraceo hyalino. Oblong vorticella, in a bright cylindrical bag. This animalculum is gelatinous and cylindrical; when at its greatest extension, the base appears attenuated, and the apex truncated. 314. VORTICELLA LARVA. V. cylindrica, apertura lunata, spinis caudalibus binis. Cylindrical, the aperture somewhat in the shape of a crescent, two small thorny points projecting from the hinderpart. The head, the trunk, and the tail, may be easily distinguished from each other. It is of a claycolour, the aperture ciliated; with a globular projection at times appearing to proceed from it. 315. VORTICELLA SACCULATA. V. inverse conica, apertura lunata, trunco postice bidentato, cauda elongata biphylla. Plate XXVII. Fig. 42 and 43. This vorticella is in the shape of an inverted cone, with an aperture the figure of a crescent; the lower part of the trunk is notched, forming as it were two teeth; the tail biphyllous. Each of these parts is surrounded with a loose bright skin, the head is divided from the trunk by a deep incision. a a a, small points projecting from the head; b, the cilia; c and d d, the interior parts; Fig. 42, l, the little horn at the bottom of the trunk. 316. VORTICELLA AURITA. V. cylindricoventrosa, apertura mutica, ciliis utrinque rotantibus cauda, articulata biphylla. Cylindrical and bigbellied, the aperture destitute of hairs, both sides of it are furnished with rotatory cilia, the tail biphyllous. 317. VORTICELLA TREMULA. V. inverse conica, apertura lobata spinulosa, cauda brevi unicuspi. Somewhat of a conical shape; the mouth being divided into two parts which are set with small spines, and a point projects from the tail. It is a pellucid crystalline ventricose animalculum, within the body on one side, there is a large claycoloured oval mass, and a pellucid oval substance adjacent to it; the tail is articulated and very short. 318. VORTICELLA SERITA. V. inverse conica, apertura spinosa integra, cauda brevi bicuspi. Somewhat of the shape of a cone, the aperture set with spines, the tail short and divided into two points. The body is muscular, pellucid, folding variously; the forepart truncated; round the margin of the aperture are rows of hairs, but it has also stiffer hairs or spines continually vibrating, with which it draws in both animate and inanimate substances. It has some resemblance to the larger vorticella rotatoria, but is easily distinguished from it by its horned spiny aperture, and simple rotatory organ. 319. VORTICELLA LACINULATA. V. inverse conica, apertura lobata, setis binis caudalibus. Plate XXVII. Fig. 45. Shaped like an inverted cone, the aperture lobated, the tail small and furnished with two bristles, d. The body is pellucid, cylindrical, and muscular; the apex about a third part down, drawn into a little neck; in the middle is a little lamina or triangular point; another of these is discovered when the aperture faces the observer, which makes it appear like a small flower. The hindpart, when in motion, is a little bent; it terminates in two minute bristles, which are seen sometimes united, at other times diverging. When the animalculum is swimming, its rotatory organ, a, may be seen; molecular intestines are visible; it moves with velocity in an oblique direction. It is found in pure water. 320. VORTICELLA CONSTRICTA. V. ellipticoventricosa, apertura integra, cauda annulata biphylla. Elliptical ventricose vorticella, the aperture or mouth undivided, the tail annulated and forked. There are two kinds of this vorticella; viz. one of a pale yellow, the other of a white colour; the head, the tail, and the trunk, are fully distinguished; a substance in motion has been perceived, which has been supposed to be the heart; they move by fixing their tail to the glass upon the stage of the microscope, and extending their body as much as possible; they then fix the forepart to the place where they intend to move, and draw the hinderpart to it, proceeding thus alternately. They sometimes turn round about upon one of the points of their tail, at other times they spring forwards with a jerk. When at rest they open their mouths very wide; the lips are ciliated, in some of them two black globules are discovered. 321. VORTICELLA TOGATA. V. subquadrata, apertura integra, spinis caudalibus binis, plerumque unitis. Square vorticella, the aperture not divided, the tail consisting of two long spines, which are sometimes so united as to appear as one. The body is convex, of a dark colour, and filled with molecules; the middle part is pellucid, the hinderpart rather broader than the forepart; the latter is ciliated, and the tail formed of two very thin pellucid spines, which are somewhat curved and much longer than the body. 322. VORTICELLA LONGISETA. V. elongata, compressa, setis caudalibus binis longissimis. Long vorticella, flat, the tail formed of two very long bristles. The forepart sinuated, and set with minute cilia; the two bristles which constitute the tail are long, but one is longer than the other. 323. VORTICELLA ROTATORIA. V. cylindrica, pedicello collari, cauda longa quadracuspi. Plate XXVI. Fig. 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, and Plate XXVII. Fig. 46, 47, 48, and 49. Cylindrical vorticella, with a little foot projecting from the neck, a long tail furnished with four points. Brachionus corpore conico subquali. Hill Hist. Anim. Brachionus corpore conico toruloso. Ibid. Brachionus. Pallas Zooph. 50. Joblot Micros, part 2, p. 77, pl. 10, fig. 18; and p. 96, pl. 5, A B C D E K. Adamss Microgr. Illustr. p. 148, pl. 40, fig. 255. Leeuwenhoeck Contin. Arc. Nat. p. 386, fig. 1, 2. Bakers Micros. made easy, p. 9193, pl. 8, fig. 6, 7, 8. Ibid. Empl. for the Micr. p. 267294, pl. 11, fig. 1 to 13. Spallanz. Opusc. Phys. 2, p. 301, 315, pl. 4, fig. 3, 4, and 5. Rozier Journal Physique, 1775, p. 220. This animalculum has long been known by the name of the wheel animal; in the description of which no person appears to have succeeded so well as Baker; and to him every writer has since referred for an ample account of this curious little being. What I shall now say on the subject will be chiefly extracted from the same source of information, with such alterations and additions as appear to be necessary to render his account more complete. I shall begin with observing, that Mllers wheel animal differs in some respects from that of Bakers; first, with regard to the rotatory organs which are extended on the back like ears; secondly, the two little splendid substances within the body; and thirdly, the two black points near the top of the head, which are probably the creatures eyes. This little animal is found in rain water that has stood for some days in leaden gutters; in the hollows of lead on the tops of houses; or in the slime and sediment left in rain water; they are also sometimes to be met with in ditches and amongst duckweed. It has been called the wheel animal, because it is furnished with a pair of instruments, which in figure and motion resemble wheels. It appears only as a living creature when immersed in water; notwithstanding which, it may be kept for many months out of water, and in a state of perfect dryness, without losing the principle of life. When dry, it is of a globular form, about the size of a grain of sand, and without any apparent signs of life. If it be put into water, in the space of half an hour a languid motion begins, the globule turns itself about, lengthens itself by slow degrees, and becomes very lively; in a short time it protrudes its wheels, and swims about in search of food; or else, fixing itself by its tail, brings the food to it by its rotatory organs, which throw the whole circumjacent fluid into a violent commotion; when its hunger is satisfied, it generally becomes quiescent, and sometimes resumes its globular form. If the water that is found standing in gutters of lead, or the sediment it has left behind, has any appearance of a red or a dark brown colour, little doubt need be entertained of its containing these animalcula. In the summer season, if a small quantity of this dust be put into water, and placed under a microscope, it seldom fails of discovering a great number of minute reddish globules, which are, in fact, the animals themselves. It will be best to view them first with the third or fourth magnifiers, and afterward apply those possessing greater powers. The motions of this little creature somewhat resemble those of a caterpillar; like many of those insects, removing itself from place to place by first fixing the tail to some substance, then extending the whole body, fixing the head, and afterward drawing the tail to it; by these alternate actions it moves with some degree of swiftness. This animal frequently changes its appearance, and assumes a very different form; for, the snout being drawn inwards, the forepart becomes clubbed, and immediately dividing, exhibits to our view two circular instruments set with minute hairs, that move very briskly, sometimes in a rotatory, at other times in a kind of trembling or vibratory manner. An aperture or mouth is also perceived between the two semicircles; whilst in this state, the animal may often be perceived swimming about in pursuit of food. The most distinguishing parts of this animalculum are, the head, the thorax, and the abdomen. It differs from any other creature hitherto described in the wonderful form and structure of its head; the sudden changes of which from one form to another are equally surprizing and singular; from being of a very taper form, it becomes almost instantaneously as broad as any part of its body, and protrudes an amazingly curious machinery formed to procure its food. The circular bodies which project from the animal have much the resemblance of wheels, appearing to turn round with considerable velocity, by which means a very rapid current of water is brought from a great distance to its mouth. As these wheels are very transparent, the edges excepted, which are set with fibrill, as cogs to a wheel, it is difficult to determine how the rotatory motions are performed, or whether their figure be flat, concave, or conical; be this as it may, they are protruded from a couple of tubular cases, into which they can be again withdrawn, at the will and pleasure of the animal. They do not always turn the same way, nor with the same degree of velocity, sometimes moving in opposite directions, at other times both one way. The figure varies according to the degree of their protrusion, as well as from other circumstances. They appear occasionally like minute oblong squares, rising from the periphery of a circle; at other times they terminate in sharp points, and sometimes they are curved, bending the same way like so many hooks; now and then the ends appear clubbed, or in resemblance like a number of small mallets. When the forepart of this creature is first seen to open or divide, the parts, which when fully protruded resemble wheels, seem only like a couple of semicircles, the edges of which are set with little spicul, having a nimble, and continually vibrating motion upwards and downwards, for the purpose of agitating the water, each wheel being in this case doubled, or like a round piece of paper folded in the middle. When the wheels are in motion, the head appears very large in proportion to the size of the animal; and though it is then everywhere transparent, yet a ring or circle, more particularly distinguished by its brightness, may be perceived about the middle of the forehead, from whence many vessels are seen to originate. The thorax or breast is united to the head by a short annular circle or neck; the size of the thorax is nearly onesixth part of the whole animalculum. In it the heart is distinctly seen; being placed nearly in the center, the diastole and systole cannot fail to attract the eye of every attentive observer; the alternate dilatation and contraction is very perceptible through the back of the animal, being performed with great strength and vigour. It appears to be composed of two semilunar parts, which in the time of contraction approach each other laterally, and form between them a figure somewhat like a horseshoe, whose upper side is flat, the under one convex. In the diastole, these two parts separate; the separation begins exactly in the middle of the lower part next the tail. In each of the semilunar parts there is a cavity, which closes when they come together; and opens when they separate. The motion of the heart is communicated to all the other parts of the thorax, and indeed through the whole animal. It is necessary however to remark, that this motion is sometimes suspended, or at least quite imperceptible, for two or three minutes, after which it recommences, and goes on with the same vigour and regularity as before. From the under part of the thorax a small transparent horn proceeds, which cannot be seen unless the insect turns on its back or side. Below the thorax there is an annular circle that joins the thorax to the abdomen; this is considerably the largest part of the animal, and contains the stomach and viscera. When full of food, the intestines are opake, and of a crimson colour, extending from the thorax quite through the abdomen and a great part of the tail, exhibiting a fine view of the peristaltic motion, or those gradual contractions and dilatations of the intestines, which propel their contents downwards. Numerous ramifications of vessels, both longitudinal and transverse, surround the intestines. The abdomen is not only capable of contraction, but also admits of such a degree of extension, as to form a case for all the other parts of the body. The tail extends from a joint at the lower part of the belly to the posterior extremity; it is of a tapering form, and consists generally of three joints; when the animal is inclined to fix itself to any thing by the tail, it thrusts out four, sometimes six, little hooks from the extreme part; these are placed in pairs, one at the very extremity itself, the other two a little way up the sides; the three pair are seldom seen at the same time. The wheels appear to be the organs used by the animal to assist it in swimming. All the actions of this creature seem to imply sagacity and quickness of sensation; at the least touch or motion in the water, they instantly draw in their wheels. Baker conjectures that they have eyes lodged near the wheels, because while they are in the globular or maggot state, their motions are slow and stumbling; but after the wheels are protruded, they are performed with great regularity, swiftness, and steadiness. Can we sufficiently admire the wonderful contrivance in the apparatus of this animal? a being so diminutive, as not to exceed in size a grain of sand! Plate XXVI. Fig. 17, represents the wheel animal in what Baker calls the maggot state; while in this form small spicul are seen to dart out near the anterior part; the snout is sometimes more, at other times less acute than in this delineation. a, a small horn near the thorax. Fig. 15 represents its manner of moving from place to place, while in the maggot state. a, the projecting horn. Fig. 12 exhibits it with the two semicircular parts, a a, protruded, and in the posture in which it places itself, when preparing to swim about, or going to set its wheels in motion. Fig. 1 shews the head at its full extent, and a couple of small bodies, a a, on the top of it, armed with small teeth, b, like those of the balancewheel of a watch. At Fig. 18 the interior parts are more particularly exhibited. a, the circle from which many vessels originate; b, the thorax or breast, joined to the head by the neck, c; the part which is supposed to be the heart is plainly seen at d; the abdomen, f, is separated from the breast by a ring, e; g, the tail. Fig. 19 exhibits the animal not fully extended, though with its wheels in motion. Fig. 20 shews it with its side towards the eye; in this position one of the wheels, a, appears to lie considerably below the other. Fig. 6 and 16 represent two of these creatures in the postures in which they are frequently seen when the wheels are not protruded, but with the fibrill, a b, vibrating quickly. Fig. 2 exhibits the animal with the body nearly drawn into the abdomen; at Fig. 21, the body still further drawn in; at Fig. 22, as it appears with the tail partly drawn in; at Fig. 23, in a globular form, but still adhering by the tail. Sometimes, when in the maggot form, it rolls its head and tail together, without drawing them into the body; as represented at Fig. 14. Baker has also described three other species, one of which, differing only from the preceding in having a very long tail, is represented at Fig. 7. Fig. 11 is another kind, with crustaceous spicul, b, at the forepart; within this, at c, an opake oval body may be seen, which has been taken for an egg. Fig. 3 is another kind; it has two projecting points, a a, from the tail, and the head furnished with a number of fibrill, b b. Fig. 13 represents another species, described by Spallanzani. Plate XXVII. Fig. 46, 47, 48, 49, represent the wheel animals seen and delineated by Mller. a, the head; b, the eyes; c, a small horn; d, the rotatory organ; e, the tail; f, the points of the tail. 324. VORTICELLA FURCATA. V. cylindrica, apertura integra, cauda longiuscula bifida. Cylindrical vorticella, the aperture undivided, the tail rather long, and divided into two parts. A cylindric body with a rotatory organ, consisting of a row of hairs at the apex; the tail is divided into two parts turning a little inwards. When at rest, it joins the segments of the tail; but opens them when in motion. It is generally found in common water. 325. VORTICELLA CATULUS. V. cylindracea, apertura mutica, cauda perbrevi, reflexa, bicuspi. Plate XXVII. Fig. 50. Cylindrical vorticella, the aperture plain, the tail short, bent back, and divided into two points. It is a little thick muscular animalculum, folding itself up; of an equal breadth throughout, the body disfigured by longitudinal folds winding in various directions; the anterior part or head is connected to the body by a little neck, and it occasionally exhibits a very minute rotatory organ. The tail, e, is short, terminating in two very small bristles, d, which are exposed or concealed at pleasure; the intestines illdefined. Its motion is rotatory, but in different directions. It is commonly found in marshy waters. 326. VORTICELLA CANICULA. V. cylindracea, apertura mutica, cauda brevi, articulata, bicuspi. Cylindrical vorticella, the aperture plain, with a short articulated tail divided into two pointed parts. 327. VORTICELLA FELIS. V. caudata, cylindracea, mutica, cauda spinis duabus longis terminata. With a tail, cylindrical, beardless, the tail terminating in two long spines. The body is large, the apex of an equal thickness, obtuse, with rotatory filaments; the tail acute, with two pellucid spines, in length about onethird part of the body, alternately separating from and approaching each other. 328. VORTICELLA STENTOREA. V. caudata, elongata, tubformis limbo ciliato. Longtailed vorticella, trumpetshaped, the arms furnished with rows of short hairs. See this fully described by the name of hydra stentorea, in page 392. 329. VORTICELLA SOCIALIS. V. caudata, aggregata, clavata; disco obliquo. A description of this vorticella has also been given, as hydra socialis, in page 395. 330. VORTICELLA FLOSCULOSA. V. caudata, aggregata, oblongoovata, disco dilatato pellucido. Plate XXVII. Fig. 51 and 52. With a tail aggregated, of an oblong oval shape, with a dilated pellucid disc. To the naked eye it appears as a yellow globule, adhering to the ceratophyllum, or common hornwort, Fig. 52, a, like a little flower; or a heap of yellow eggs, b. With the assistance of the microscope they are discovered to be a congeries of vorticell, constituting a sphere from a mouldy center. They contract or extend their bodies either when alone or associated, and excite a vortex in the water by means of the disc. When they quit the society, and act singly, their parts may be more readily distinguished, and will be found to consist of a head, abdomen, and tail. The head is often drawn back so far into the abdomen, that it cannot be seen, exhibiting only a projecting, broad kidneyshaped disc. The abdomen, Fig. 51, d, is oblong, oval, and pellucid, replete with obscure intestines, amongst which are one or two remarkable black oval spots, e; the tail, f, is sharp, twice as long as the abdomen, either rough and annulated, or altogether smooth. 331. VORTICELLA CITRINA. V. simplex, multiformis, orificio contractili, pedunculo quali. Plate XXVII. Fig. 53. Simple, manyshaped, with an orifice admitting of contraction, and equalsized footstalk. The head is full of molecules, round, everywhere of an equal size, and very pellucid; both sides of the orifice are ciliated, and each has a rotatory motion, appearing sometimes without the edge of the mouth, as at a a; at other times within it. No distinct intestines or internal motion are perceivable. Its motion is different from most of this genus, but not easily described; at c c are small feet. It is found in stagnant water. 332. VORTICELLA PIRIFORMIS. V. simplex, obovata, pedicello minimo retractili. Simple, somewhat oval, with a very small retractile foot, which it can draw within itself. 333. VORTICELLA TUBEROSA. V. simplex, turbinata, apice bituberculata. Simple vorticella, the upper part broad, the under part small, with two projections at the anterior end, furnished with a number of fibrill, which produce a current of water by their vibration, and thus collect food for the animal. Baker has delineated it in Plate XIII. No. 10, 11, 12, of his Employment for the Microscope. 334. VORTICELLA RINGENS. V. simplex, obovata, pedunculo minimo, orificio contractili. Simple, somewhat of an oval shape, with a small pedicle, and an orifice which it contracts or dilates. The small head, or rather body of this little creature is pearshaped, pellucid, the middle of the aperture convex, both sides ciliated, the pedicle four times shorter than the body; it can contract the orifice to an obtuse point. 335. VORTICELLA INCLINANS. V. simplex, deflexa, pedunculo brevi, capitulo retractili. Simple, bent, with a short pedicle, and small retractile head. This has a pellucid pendulous little head; the anterior part truncated, occasionally contracting itself twice as short as the pedicle; its shape resembles that of a tobaccopipe. 336. VORTICELLA VAGINATA. V. simplex, erecta, ovatotruncata, pedunculo vaginato. Simple vorticella, erect, of the shape of a truncated egg; the pedicle is contained in a sheath. For the 337th, 338th, and 339th, the author refers to the Zool. Dan. he terms them, vorticella cyathina, vorticella putrina, vorticella patellina. 340. VORTICELLA GLOBULARIA. V. simplex, sphrica, pedunculo retortili. Simple, spherical, with a twisted pedicle. This animalculum has a small spherical head, the aperture of the mouth ciliated; the pedicle four times longer than the body, which it contracts into a spiral form. It is frequent among the cyclopa quadricorni. 341. VORTICELLA LUNARIS. V. simplex, hemisphrica, pedunculo retortili. Plate XXVII. Fig. 54. Simple, hemispherical, with a twisted pedicle. The small head of this animalculum is gobletshaped, the margin of the orifice protuberant, ciliated on both sides, with undulating hairs; the pedicle eight or ten times the length of the body. The pedicle extends itself as often as the mouth is opened, but is twisted up spirally when it is shut; and these motions are frequently repeated in a short space of time, a a, the head when expanded; b, when shut; c, the undulated edge; d d, the cilia erect; e, when horizontal; f, the pedicle when straight; g, when bent in a spiral form. 342. VORTICELLA CONVALLARIA. V. simplex, campanulata, pedunculo retortili. This animalculum, the bellanimal of Baker, has been fully described in page 407. 343. VORTICELLA NUTANS. V. simplex, turbinata, pedunculo retortili. Simple, with a twisted turbinated pedicle. The pedicle is simple, and twists itself spirally; is extremely slender, with a kind of cap on its head; the margin white and round, and appearing as if encompassed with a lucid ring; the head diminishes towards the base. It is transparent. 344. VORTICELLA NEBULIFERA. V. simplex, ovata, pedunculo reflexili. Plate XXVII. Fig. 66. Simple, eggshaped, the pedicle bent back. The body is narrow at the base, open and truncated at the top; the margin apparently surrounded with a ring; but, when the aperture is shut, the animalculum is eggshaped, with a simple setaceous pedicle, considerably longer than the body, and generally much bent back. a a a, the head open; b, partly closed; c, quite shut; d, the stalk when straight; and at e, when bent. 345. VORTICELLA ANNULARIS. V. simplex, truncata, pedunculo apice retortili. Simple, truncated, with a pedicle twisted at the end. This is visible to the naked eye; when contracted, it appears to be annulated; the head is an inverted cone, convex when the mouth is shut, but truncated when it is open, and with a protuberant edge; the pedicle is simple, very long and thick, whiter at the top than any other part, and formed into a little head; the apex is twisted spirally. 346. VORTICELLA ACINOSA. An ample description of this animalculum, under the title of vorticella umbellaria, has been given in page 402. 347. VORTICELLA FASCICULATA. V. simplex, viridis, campanulata, margine reflexo, pedunculo retortili. Simple, green, bellshaped, the margin or edge turned back, the pedicle twisted. The head is bellshaped, green, opake, narrow at bottom, pellucid. It has a rotatory organ, which may sometimes be seen projecting beyond the aperture; there is a little head at the apex, and the pedicle is twisted and very slender. A congealed green mass, which is often swimming about in ditches, is composed of myriads of these animalcula, which are invisible to the eye, but when magnified, appear like a bundle of green flowers. 348. VORTICELLA HIANS. V. simplex, citriformis, pedunculo retortili. This may be classed among the most minute. The head resembles a citron, the apex is truncated, the base narrow; a gaping cleft is observable descending from the apex, to onethird of the body. 349. VORTICELLA BELLIS. V. simplex, hemispherica, margine contractili. Simple, hemispherical, with a margin which it can contract at pleasure. The body is of a yellow colour, much resembling the flower of a daisy; the head scarcely pellucid; the internal part quite filled; it is abundantly ciliated round the margin, moving in a rotatory manner. The foot or pedicle is long, slender, and pellucid; it is divided into two parts, with small knobs on the top of each; the base adheres to a bulb, the underpart is covered with small scales. 350. VORTICELLA GEMELLA. V. simplex, sphrica, capitulo gemino. Simple, spherical, with a double head. The pedicle is long, and constantly furnished with two small heads at its apex; these are bright and clear. 351. VORTICELLA PYRARIA. The distinguishing characters of this animalculum will be found at page 400. 352. VORTICELLA ANASTATICA. A full description of this vorticella has also been given at page 397. 353. VORTICELLA DIGITALIS. At page 406 the reader will likewise meet with an account of the v. digitalis. 354. VORTICELLA POLYPINA. V. composita, ovatotruncata, pedunculo reflexili ramosissimo. Plate XXVII. Fig. 61. Compound vorticella, oval, truncated, with a bending branching stalk. When viewed with a small magnifier, they appear like so many little trees; the upper part or heads are eggshaped, the top truncated, the lower part filled with intestines; the branches are thick set with little knobs. a, the trunk; b b b, the branches; c c, the head when extended; d, the small knobs on the branches. 355. VORTICELLA RACEMOSA. V. composita, pedunculo rigido, pedicellis ramosissimis longis. Compound, rigid pedicle, with small branched long feet. To the naked eye it appears like the vorticella socialis, described in page 395, but is distinguished from it by always adhering to the sides of the vessel in which it is placed. With the microscope, a long very slender pedicle is discovered sticking to the sides of the vessels, from which proceed an innumerable quantity of crystalline pellucid pearls, which, together with the stalk, are variously agitated in the water. They sometimes move separately, at other times together, are sometimes drawn down to the root, and in a moment expanded again. XVII. BRACHIONUS. Vermis contractilis, testa tectus, ciliis rotatoriis. A worm capable of contracting, covered with a shell, and furnished with rotatory cilia. 356. BRACHIONUS STRIATUS. B. univalvis, testa ovata striata, apice sexdentata, basi integra, cauda nulla. Plate XXVII. Fig. 64 and 65. Univalved brachionus, the shell oval and striated, six notches or teeth round the upper edge, the base whole or even, without a tail. The shell is oblong, pellucid, and capable of altering its figure. The apex, a, is truncated, with six small teeth on the edge of it, twelve longitudinal streaks down the back, the base obtuse and smooth. The teeth are occasionally either protruded or retracted; on the other side of the shell, towards the tail, there are two little spines or horns, c. The animalculum itself is muscular, pellucid, and crystalline, often of a yellow colour; from the apex it now and then puts forth three little bundles of playing hairs, the two lateral ones shorter than the middle one; a forked deglutatory muscle, e, is perceptible; and on the under side, when the apex is drawn in, two rigid points may be discovered. It is found in sea water. 357. BRACHIONUS SQUAMULA. B. univalvis, testa orbicularis, apice truncata quadridentata, basi integra, cauda nulla. Univalved brachionus, with an orbicular shell; the apex truncated, and having four teeth, the base smooth, no tail. 358. BRACHIONUS PALA. B. univalvis, testa oblonga excavata, apice quadridentata, basi integra, cauda nulla. Univalved brachionus, with an oblong excavated shell, four long teeth at the apex, the base smooth, no tail. It is of a yellow colour. 359. BRACHIONUS BIPALIUM. B. univalvis, testa oblonga inflexa, apice decemdentata, basi integra, cauda spuria. Univalved brachionus, the shell oblong and inflected, ten teeth at the apex, the base smooth, and a spurious tail. 360. BRACHIONUS PATINA. B. univalvis, testa orbiculari integra, cauda mutica. Univalved brachionus, with an orbicular shell, the edges regular, and having a long beardless tail. The patina is extremely bright and splendid; it has a large body, a crystalline and nearly circular shell, without either incision or teeth, though towards the apex it falls in so as to form a smooth notch; the body is affixed to the middle of the shell; a double glittering organ, with ciliated edges, is projected from the apex; both these organs are of a conical figure, appearing to stand on a pellucid substance, which is divided into two lobes; between these and the rotatory organ there is a silvercoloured crenulated membrane; two small claws may be discovered near the mouth. It is reckoned as one of the rarer species of vorticella, and is found in stagnant waters in the month of May. 361. BRACHIONUS CLYPEATUS. B. univalvis, testa oblonga, apice emarginata, basi integra, cauda mutica. Univalved brachionus, the shell oblong, the apex notched, the base smooth, and the tail naked. 362. BRACHIONUS LAMELLARIS. B. univalvis, testa producta, apice integra, basi tricorni, cauda bipili. Univalved brachionus, the shell extending considerably beyond the body; the base divided into three small horns, with two hairs at the end of the tail. 363. BRACHIONUS PATELLA. B. univalvis, testa ovata, apice bidentata, basi emarginata, cauda biseta. Brachionus with a univalve oval shell, two teeth at the apex, the base notched; two bristles at the tail. The shell plain, oval, orbicular, crystalline, with the anterior part terminating in two acute points on both sides, though the intervening space is commonly filled up with the head of the animal. The head, the tail, and the trunk are very distinct; the bottom of the trunk is terminated in a semicircle, the forepart marked with two transverse lines; it occupies the disc of the shell. The intestines are indistinct, and the tail affixed to the trunk; it is short, annulated, flexible, the middle projecting beyond the shell, the apex diverging into two very fine bristles; it fastens itself by these, and whirls about with the body erect; the rotatory cilia are not perceptible without great difficulty. It is found in marshy water all the winter. 364. BRACHIONUS BRACTEA. B. univalvis, testa suborbiculari, apice lunata, basi integra, cauda spina duplici. Univalved brachionus, the shell rather orbicular, lunated apex, smooth base, and the tail furnished with two spines. 365. BRACHIONUS PLICATILIS. B. univalvis, testa oblonga, apice crenulata, basi emarginata. Univalved brachionus, with an oblong shell, the apex hairy, and the base notched. 366. BRACHIONUS OVALIS. B. bivalvis, testa depressa, apice emarginata, basi incisa, cauda cirro duplici. Bivalved brachionus, with a flattened shell, the apex notched, a hollow part at the base, the tail formed of two tufts of hair. 367. BRACHIONUS TRIPOS. B. bivalvis, testa apice mutica, basi tricorni, cauda duplici. Plate XXVII. Fig. 59. Bivalved, the apex of the shell beardless, three horns at the base, and double tail. The body is pellucid, nearly triangular, bivalved, and open on the back of the animalculum; from the orifice proceed two little lamin larger than the rotatory cilia; at the bottom are three or four rigid points, e f e, and a moveable tail, g, between them, divided into two filaments, which the little creature opens and shuts at pleasure; by these it fixes itself to objects. a a, the lateral cilia; b, two small lamin; c, a deglutatory muscle; d, an opake mass. 368. BRACHIONUS DENTATUS. B. bivalvis, testa arcuata, apice et basi utrinque dentata, cauda spina duplici. Bivalved brachionus, with an arched shell; the apex and the base are both toothed, and the tail formed of two spines. 369. BRACHIONUS MUCRONATUS. B. bivalvis, subquadrata, apice et basi utrinque mucronata, cauda spina duplici. Bivalved, somewhat of a square form; the base and apex pointed; the tail consisting of two spines. 370. BRACHIONUS UNCINATUS. B. bivalvis, testa ovali, apice integra, basi mucronata, cauda rugosa biseta. Plate XXVII. Fig. 55. Bivalved brachionus, with an oval shell, the apex even, the base pointed, two thick bristles for the tail. This is one of the smallest bivalved animalcula, muscular, the apex and anterior part round, the hinder part straight, terminating in a point, furnished with a hook on the forepart, a small rotatory organ, a long tail composed of joints, and divided at the end into two bristles. It can open its shell both at the fore and hindpart. a, the shell when close; c, the posterior point; d, the animalculum; h, the tail; i, the bristles. 371. BRACHIONUS CIRRATUS. B. capsularis, testa apice producta, basi curti bicorni, cauda biseta. Larger than the preceding, ventricose, somewhat pellucid, the head conical, with a bundle of hairs on both sides; it has likewise a rotatory organ. 372. BRACHIONUS PASSUS. B. capsularis, testa cylindracea, frontis cirris binis pendulis, setaque caudali unica. Capsular brachionus, in a cylindric shell, with two long pendulous locks of hair proceeding from the front; the tail consists of a single bristle. 373. BRACHIONUS QUADRATUS. B. capsularis, testa quadrangula, apice bidentata, basi bicorni, cauda nulla. Capsular brachionus, in a quadrangular shell, with two small teeth at the apex, two horns proceeding from the base, and no tail. 374. BRACHIONUS IMPRESSUS. B. capsularis, testa quadrangula, apice integra, basi obtusi emarginata, cauda flexuosa. Capsular brachionus, the shell quadrangular, a smooth undivided apex; obtuse base; notched margin, and a flexuous tail. 375. BRACHIONUS URCEOLARIS. For a full description of this animalculum, being the same as the vorticella urceolaris, the reader will please to refer to page 408. Views of the animal in its different positions will be found in Plate XXII. Fig. 36, 37, 38, and in Plate XXVII. Fig. 56 and 57. Fig. 56, a a, are the two fibrill; b, the head; f, the intestines; i, the aperture from which the tail is protruded; i k, the tail; at the end, k, is a cleft, enabling the animal to affix itself more firmly to any substance. Fig. 57, at a c a, are seen the fibrill; d shews the moveable intestine, supposed to be the heart or lungs; f, the intestines; h i k, the tail. 376. BRACHIONUS BAKERI. B. capsularis, testa ventricosa, apice quadridentata, basi bicorni, cauda longa bicuspi. Plate XXVII. Fig. 58. Capsular brachionus, the shell ventricose, four teeth at the apex, two horns at the base, and a long tail terminating in two short points. This differs considerably from the foregoing in the shape of the shell, from each side of which there is a curved projection, f f, inclining towards the tail, nearly of the same length with it, and terminating in a point, h h. The upper part also of the shell is of a different form, having in general four longer spicul, and two shorter ones. From the head two arms or branches, e e, are frequently extended; the circular end of each is furnished with a tuft of little hairs, which sometimes move in a vibratory manner, at other times have a rotatory motion. The eggs are either affixed to the tail, or the curved part of the shell; they have from one to five hanging from them. Mller has likewise discovered in this animalculum two small feelers, and a kind of tongue. a a, the rotatory organs; b, the tongue; c c, the feelers; d d, a ciliated part on the side of the shell; g, the heart or lungs; m k, the tail; at the extremity, k, two sharp points. 377. BRACHIONUS PATULUS. B. capsularis, testa ventrosa, apice octodentata, basi lunata quadricorni, cauda brevi bicuspi. Capsular brachionus, the shell ventricose, eight teeth at the apex, the base lunated or hollowed into the form of a crescent, and furnished with four horns; the tail short, with two small points at the end. ADDITIONAL ANIMALCULA INFUSORIA, EXHIBITED IN PLATE XXVI. 378. Fig. A A A. An animalculum found in ditch water in the month of September, represented in three different forms which it assumed. 379. Fig. B B B. A species of testaceous wheelanimal; a, its appearance when protruded; b, when in the shell; c, another appearance of the same. 380. Fig. C, shews one of the same species; and 381. Fig. D, exhibits another of the same kind; they both appear as protruded from the shell. The above are all drawn as they were found adhering to a vegetable substance. 382. Fig. E E E. Several appearances of an animalculum found in stagnant water in September, about the onehundredth part of an inch in length; it moved slowly, and there appeared a wheellike motion in certain fibrill in the head. The doubleforked part of the tail had a similar motion to the tail of the pulex aquaticus; the intestines appeared of different colours, as brown, yellow, and reddish, and had a quick irregular motion; the external parts were very transparent. 383. Fig. F F F F. Several animalcula in a drop of water from a leaden cistern; of different sizes, but apparently of the same species. They moved either end foremost, without any undulating motion, but very uniform and slow; each end appeared alike, and very transparent; the middle clear, brown, with a blackish list nearly the whole length of the animal. The large one, a, lay sometime bent, as in the drawing, the others, both when in motion and at rest continuing quite straight. Some of the very small ones were transparent; others appeared as at b and c.128 128 In the former edition of this work, owing to an error in the numeration, it appeared that 379 of these animalcula were described, though in reality it contained only 377, or the number which has already been given. Previous to the publication of Mr. Adamss edition, a friend communicated to him drawings and descriptions of several of these minute beings which had fallen under his observation; but they were received too late for insertion. Mr. A. having at that time favoured me with a copy of the drawings and manuscript, they are now added, with the hope that they will not prove unacceptable to the curious reader. EDIT. Having in this and the preceding chapter described an extensive variety of those minute and wonderful productions of nature, the hydr, vorticell, and animalcula infusoria, I shall take my leave of the subject with remarking, that though by the assistance of the microscope myriads of animated beings, roving in the smallest drop of water as if it were a sea, have been exhibited to the astonished eyes of attentive observers, it surely cannot be deemed an unreasonable supposition, that the ADORABLE CREATOR, who has filled the immensity of extent with suns and worlds, has also peopled every particle of fluid with beings far more minute than any apparatus of ours can perceive; and however insignificant many of the smaller parts of the creation may appear to the uninformed bulk of mankind, there cannot exist a doubt, but that they were all, collectively and individually, formed for the wisest purposes; and, though in many instances these designations are to us incomprehensible, let us not on that account rashly withhold our admiration. These sentiments are beautifully enforced in the following expressive lines of Thomson: Gradual from these what numrous kinds descend, Evading evn the microscopic eye! Full nature swarms with life; one wondrous mass Of animals, or atoms organized, Waiting the vital breath, when parent heaven Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, In putrid streams, emits the living cloud Of pestilence. Thro subterranean cells, Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, Within its winding citadel, the stone Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, That dance unnumberd to the playful breeze, The downy orchard, and the melting pulp Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed Of evanescent insects. Where the pool Stands mantled oer with green, invisible, Amid the floating verdure, millions stray. Each liquid too, whether it pierces, soothes, Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, Tho one transparent vacancy it seems, Void of their unseen people. These, conceald By the kind art of forming heaven, escape The grosser eye of man: Let no presuming impious railer tax Creative Wisdom, as if aught was formd In vain, or not for admirable ends. Shall little haughty Ignorance pronounce His works unwise, of which the smallest part Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind? As if upon a fullproportiond dome, On swelling columns heavd, the pride of art! A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads An inch around, with blind presumption bold, Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. And lives the man, whose universal eye Has swept at once th unbounded scheme of things; Markd their dependance so, and firm accord, As with unfaultering accent to conclude That this availeth nought? Has any seen The mighty chain of beings lessening down From infinite perfection to the brink Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss! From which astonishd thought, recoiling, turns? Till then alone let zealous praise ascend, And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, As on our smiling eyes his servant sun. CHAP. IX. ON THE ORGANIZATION OR CONSTRUCTION OF TIMBER, AS VIEWED BY THE MICROSCOPE. The subject of the following chapter opens an extensive field for observation to the naturalist, in which the labour of a life may be well employed: it is a branch where the observer will find the microscope of continual use, and without which he will scarce be able to form any just idea of the organization of trees and plants, or of the variations in the disposition, the number, nature, and offices of their several parts. Vegetables are beautiful and perfect in their kind, wonderful in their growth, beneficial in their uses. Herbs and flowers may be regarded by some persons as objects of inferior consideration in philosophy; but every thing must be great which has God for its author. To him all the parts of nature are equally related: the flowers of the earth can raise our thoughts up to the Creator of the world as effectually as the stars of heaven; and, till we make this use of both, we cannot be said to think properly of either. All trees and herbs in their place and seasons speak the same language from the climates of the north to the torrid regions of the south, and from the winter to the spring and the harvest, they join their voices in the universal chorus of all created beings, and to the ear of reason celebrate the wisdom of the Almighty Creator. Malpighi, Grew, Duhamel, Hill, Bonnet, and De Saussure, are almost the only writers who have treated on the interior structure of vegetables; and, if we consider the imperfection of the instruments used by some of them in these anatomical researches, and the little attention paid by the rest to the advantages their favourite pursuits might have derived from the use of the microscope, as well as the dissecting knife, we find greater cause to wonder at what has been done, than at what remains to be performed. To the general inattention to the structure of plants, we may, amongst other causes, also ascribe the instability and fluctuation of the different theories on the principles of vegetation. We are, however, so little acquainted with the steps which Providence takes to lead intellectual, but free agents, to the knowledge of truth, and the various difficulties, errors, and prejudices, necessary to be removed, before it can shine in its native colours, that it is our duty to encourage every humble effort towards the advancement of science, that thus we may cooperate with our Creator and Redeemer in promoting that vast plan to which all things are now converging, the bringing all his creatures to a state of truth, goodness, and consequent happiness, an end worthy of the best and wisest of beings.129 129 See the Bishop of Exeters Sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. As Dr. Hill is the first writer who has treated this part of natural history in an orderly and scientific manner, I shall use the names he has adopted for characterizing the different parts of trees, c. which are, 1. the rind; 2. the bark; 3. the blea; 4. the wood; 5. the corona or circle of propagation; 6. the pith. These are placed immediately within or under one another; they are the essential parts upon which the strength of the tree depends: in, among, and between these, the various vessels are placed, which nourish the whole, and maintain and carry on the vegetation of the tree, and from which it obtains its peculiar qualities and virtues. These vessels are of five kinds: 1. The Exterior   2. The Interior  Juice Vessels.  3. The Intimate  4. The Sap Vessels. 5. The Coronal. Of these, the first are placed between the rind and bark; the second, in the substance of the bark; the third, in the substance of the blea; the fourth, in the substance of the wood; the fifth, in the corona. More accurate instruments, or a more minute investigation of the parts, may probably discover new vessels in a system which appears to be entirely vascular, and brings us more thoroughly acquainted with the nature of vegetation. OF THE RIND. The exterior covering of all trees is a thin, dry, parched substance, which has been compared by many writers to the skin of animals, and called by names analogous thereto; thus it is called the epidermis by Duhamel, the skin by Grew, the rind by Hill. When a tree is full of sap, this membrane may be easily detached from the part it covers; it may be separated from green branches which are not in sap, by boiling them in water; large pieces of it may also be obtained from rotten branches; the rind of the leaves of many trees is detached with singular dexterity from the other parts, by some of the mining caterpillars; artificial methods for effecting this purpose have been described in page 160 of this work. Though the rind may at first sight be thought to be of little use, it will be found to be a principal organ in the process of vegetation. The part which covers the root has the most important offices assigned to it. Many are of opinion that the rind is formed of dried vesicul; and Malpighi says, that we may see in the vascular texture of the bark of the cherry and plumbtrees an arrangement of the parts proper to form the rind, and this arrangement is occasioned by the endeavour of the vascular part to extend itself to the circumference, and the resistance it meets with from the rind; and that hence the vessels are flattened, and assume a membranaceous form. The rind is a general covering to the young trunks of trees, to the branches, the roots, the leaves, the fruit, the flowers, c. Upon the trunks of large trees some pieces only of the rind are to be found, having probably been broken by the increased size of the tree. The rind of some species of trees will bear being stretched much further than those of others, and remain for a considerable time uniformly spread over the bark. Du Hamel asserts, that the rind of vigorous healthy, trees remains longer whole than on those that are more languid, notwithstanding that the growth of the last is slower, and therefore makes less efforts against the rind. This circumstance is much in favour of the distinct organization of the rind, and against the opinion of those who only suppose it to consist of dried bladders. Thin as the rind is, it is formed of many coats, adhering closely to each other, which in some species may be separated with ease, in others, with difficulty. Du Hamel says, that he has divided the rind of the birch into six distinct coats, and that he had no doubt but what the division might have been carried much further. Dr. Hill says, that unless some of these coats be obtained in a state of separation from the rest, the true construction of the rind cannot be discovered, for the connection and form of the parts are lost by the confusion in which they appear while they lie one upon another. The following experiments may throw a little light upon this obscure subject.130 All the rind was taken from the trunk of a cherrytree, and the tree thus skinned exposed to the air; a part of the bark which was next to the rind dried up and exfoliated; the part next to this did the same; after two or three exfoliations, a farinaceous substance covered the superfice of the trunk, soon after which a new rind appeared. Some pieces of rind were taken from a few young branches, and the wounds were covered with a cloth that had been soaked in wax and turpentine; on these the rind appeared in a very little time, without any apparent exfoliation. From some other branches, not only the rind, but a part of the bark was also taken away, and the wounds covered as before; a slight exfoliation was observed here, which was soon followed with a new rind. The bark was taken entirely off from a vigorous cherrytree, while it was in full sap, so that the wood appeared the whole extent of the trunk. This was protected from the rays of the sun, and from the air. A new bark and rind formed themselves upon the trunk, but they did not originate from the bark that was left on the branches and the root, but extended from different spots, which were first formed at considerable distances from each other. After a lapse of fifteen years, this new rind did not appear like the natural rind of the cherrytree. From these experiments we learn, that the rind regenerates more readily in some cases than in others, and that it preserves and prevents in a degree the bark from becoming dry too soon, and in consequence thereof exfoliating. 130 Du Hamel Physique des Arbres, tom. 1, p. 12. Aided by the microscope, a number of luminous points may be discovered in the rind;131 these are so many minute holes for other purposes of transpiration. In the cane these holes are visible to the naked eye. A few oval holes may also be perceived in it; these are, however, no more than a separation of the parts, occasioned by the extension of the vasa interiora. 131 Du Hamel Physique des Arbres, tom. 1, p. 9. Dr. Grew supposed the rind to be formed of small vesicles, or bladders, clustered together, and intermixed with ligneous fibres or vessels, which run through the length of the rind; these are conjoined by other transverse ones, but that as the rind dries, the bladders or blebs shrink up and disappear. This account does not differ much from that of Dr. Hill, who says, that the rind is formed of a series of longitudinal vessels, and a filmy substance, between them, which, when viewed in a transverse section, form small circles, the sides of which are supported and made up of these longitudinal fibres; that the transverse vessels are only a deception, occasioned by the spaces between them and part of the film. The mode of obtaining an accurate view of the organization of this part, by conveying coloured liquors into the several vessels thereof, has been already described in page 160 of these Essays; by these means, together with the microscope, we find that the vessels are everywhere pierced with small dots or openings: of the use of these, the following conjectures have been formed.132 132 Hills Construction of Timber, c. p. 37. The root, which is equal in surface to a third part of the tree above ground, is covered with a pierced rind. The cold of winter contracts the whole of this, the parts are drawn closer together, and the mouths of these innumerable vessels are shut or nearly so, by this contraction; a very little of the halfcongealed moisture of the ground gets into them, but this suffices for the service of the tree, when there is little heat to cause any perspiration, and at a time when in the deciduous trees, the very organs of the greatest perspiration, the leaves, do not exist. The warmth of the spring arrives, the fluids of the earth grow thinner, every part of the root expands; this opens the mouths of the vessels, and the torrent of nutrition rushes in. By these means, every coat of the rind, and the interstitial spaces thereof, are rendered supple, and may be easily separated from the under coverings. In roots, the colour of the rind varies very much, being white in some, brown in others, c. Every root, according to Grew, after it has arrived at a certain age, has a double skin, the one coeval with the other parts, and exists in the seed; a ring is afterwards sent off from the bark, which forms the second skin; thus in the root of dandelion, towards the end of May, the original or outer skin appears shrivelled, and is easily separated from the new one, which is fresher, and adheres more firmly to the bark. Perennial plants are supplied in this manner with a new skin every year; the outer one always falls off in the autumn and winter, and a new one is formed from the bark in the succeeding spring. OF THE VESSELS WHICH ARE CONTAINED BETWEEN THE RIND AND THE BARK. These are called by Du Hamel the cellular coat, enveloppe cellulaire; by Hill, the exterior vessels, and the vasa propria exteriora. It has been already observed, that in trees the juice vessels, or vasa propria, do not form those constituent parts of the wood of which the timber consists, but that it is from the nature of these recipient vessels that it derives its virtues, qualities, and specific properties.133 A tree may grow, live, and give shade without them; but on those its peculiar character and decided virtues depend; these are greatest where the vasa propria are largest or most numerous; and where we do not find these, we scarce find any thing that will affect the taste or the smell. There are different ranges of these vessels between the several parts, each of which has its allotted place, its peculiar form, its different structure, and its separate use. Many trees have them in all their parts, others only in some of them, while others do not exhibit any. 133 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 73. On taking off the rind, we find a substance of a deep green colour, succulent and herbaceous, formed of a prodigious number of filaments interwoven together in various directions; it is more abundant in some trees than in others, particularly in the elder, and more succulent in summer than in winter; it is then also less adherent to the rind. Dr. Hill thinks the best time of separating the rind, in order to view this part, is in a living branch, at the time of its swelling for the spring, or for the midsummer shoot, but much easier by the means of maceration.134 134 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 75. When the rind is perfectly separated, it leaves the vasa propria of this class behind it; they scarce adhere to the inner bark, and but little to the rind; they are disposed in packets, and do not run straight down the branch, but interweaving with each other, form a kind of net. These packets may be separated easily from the bark; when a thin transverse section of one of them is examined, it is found to be composed of twelve or fifteen distinct vessels with hard rinds. Dr. Hill says, that with a great deal of patience, a vast number of objects, and a good microscope, we may see by what means these vessels adhere to the bark; for we shall find upon the sides small oval depressions which fit thereto, and that are probably a kind of glands, that separate from the general store of sap, with which the bark is filled, the juices peculiar to these vessels. OF THE BARK. The bark lies next within the rind, and differs but little from it in construction, though it holds a more important office in the scale of vegetation, the growth and qualities of the tree being in a great measure connected with it. It is, therefore, found to differ considerably in substance, quantity, and quality, in various kinds. It is originally the outer membrane, covering the lobes of the seed. Even there, as in the branch of a tree, it appears in the form of a kind of spunge, or like a crust of bread, composed of flatted bladders. Its spungelike nature may be further inferred from the contraction of its pores when dry, and the ease with which they dilate when in water. Grew has called it a most curious and exquisitely fine, wrought spunge. In the course of its growth, the outer ranges of these bladders drying, it becomes what we call the rind; for the rind was once bark, and has only suffered a slight change in separating from it. By the bark the tree is fed with a continual supply of moisture, protected from external injuries, and defended from the excesses of heat and cold; for these purposes it is variously disposed in different trees. In the hardy and slow growing, as the oak and chesnut, it is thin; in the quick growing, as willow, poplar, and the like, it is thick. And what is more particularly to be attended to is, that in some its inner verge is radiated. There are some trees, and a great many herbaceous plants, in which this part is continued inward, in form of rays, through the blea into the wood, and seems to form so many green wedges, that split as it were the substance of both those parts;135 a circumstance which accounts for the vegetation of some particular trees, which are known to live when deprived of the bark; because they have rays of the same substance within which answer the purpose, and this in a degree answering to the nature of their life. 135 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 118. Ibid. p. 120, The bark appears to be formed, first, of longitudinal fibres, which Du Hamel considers as so many lymphatic vessels; secondly, by a sort of a filmy cellular tissue, which has been considered as a kind of bladders by some, or as parenchymatous by others; thirdly, of the vasa propria interiora, or interior juice vessels. The longitudinal fibres are disposed in strata, which lie one over the other. In that stratum which is next the rind, or rather the cellular coat, we perceive a net of longitudinal fibres, the meshes of which are large and easily distinguished, particularly when the cellular tissue that fills up the interstices is removed. To do this, the branches should be macerated for a considerable time; some require to be kept in this state for years. It will then be easy to separate first the rind, then the cellular coating, and afterwards this pulpy matter. It may sometimes be easily removed after the branches have been boiled. The most exterior stratum, when examined by the naked eye, seems to be formed of simple fibres, which graft, solder, or inosculate one with the other; but when examined by a microscope, each of these fibres will be found to be a bundle of filaments, which may be easily separated from each other. Grew says, that each filament, like the nerves in animals, consists of twenty or thirty small contiguous tubes, which run uniformly from the extremity of the root, without sending off any branches, or suffering any change in their size and shape. Hence the bark may be torn or divided lengthwise, with greater ease than in an horizontal direction; when macerated, they are capable of a very great degree of subdivision. The filaments of a cortical vessel are to be looked on, agreeable to what we have already observed, as so many little bundles placed near together, and at first growing parallel to each other; but soon quitting this direction, the filaments of one fascicle parting from that to which they originally belonged, and inclining more or less obliquely towards another, sometimes uniting with it, at others, bending backwards, and uniting again with that from which it proceeded, or with some one that it meets with. In this manner new fascicles are often formed, while other parcels are increased or diminished by the additions of new filaments; by these means, a kind of irregular net is formed, and the fibres proceed in a serpentine line from the top to the bottom of the tree. The thickness of the bark is entirely formed of strata of these longitudinal fibres, which lie one over the other; each of these strata is similar to the exterior one, only the meshes are smaller, and the fibres finer, in proportion as they are more interior, insomuch that at last the meshes are almost annihilated, and the fibres seem to lie quite parallel to each other. There are some trees, however, where the meshes are not visible, and in which the fibres lie quite in a straight direction. There are many other circumstances in which they vary in different trees; in some the meshes of each stratum correspond with each other, diminishing gradually in size as they are more interior, and forming as it were so many conical cells. We may, I think, conclude from what has been said, that the bark is composed of several thin membranes, which extend over the whole exterior surface of the tree. The most exterior membrane is the rind; under this is what Du Hamel calls the cellular coat; next to this the cortical stratum or true bark of the tree, which is formed of lymphatic vessels ranged more or less in a reticular form, and of the vasa propria interiora. The meshes are so constituted as to form large cavities next the rind, and small ones near the wood. These cavities are filled with a parenchymatous substance or the cellular tissue, which being continued from the wood to the rind, joins and unites the cortical stratum, and afterwards spreading on the outside thereof, forms what has been termed the cellular coat. OF THE CELLULAR TISSUE. We now proceed to give some account of the substance which fills up the vacant spaces that are left between the longitudinal fibres. It is called by Grew the parenchyma or pulp, by Malpighi, the vesicular tissue or web; both of them consider it as formed of small bladders or reticles, that are in contact with each other, lying in an horizontal position, or at right angles to the longitudinal fibres: they do not suppose them to be all of the same size, or even of the same figure: Grew compares it to the froth of beer or eggs. The flesh of fruits consists for the most part of this substance, very much filled with juice, though with considerable difference in its organization. Be this as it may, the nature of this substance, its form and structure, are at present but very little known. It is floccose, and varies in colour in different species. OF THE VASA PROPRIA INTERIORA. Besides the lymphatic vessels and the cellular substance, we find the juice vessels, or vasa propria, in the bark. In those trees which are famous for medicinal virtues, they are usually very large; they carry the milky juices of the sumach, and in them is lodged the finest and highestflavoured turpentine in all the kinds of pine. Dr. Hill thinks that a tree of that genus exhibits them best, and the more, as the turpentine which fills them may be perfectly dissolved in spirit of wine. The pinus orientalis is the species in which these vessels are most distinctly seen. OF THE BLEA. This is that part of the tree which is formed into wood, and therefore lies between it and the bark, and may be separated from them by maceration. A longitudinal piece of the blea, when examined by the microscope, exhibits a number of vessels running parallel to each other, the interstitial spaces being filled with a floccose, white, formless substance, of which Dr. Hill suspects even the vessels themselves to be formed. Innumerable small openings or mouths may be discovered in these vessels, suited to imbibe the moisture which is so essential to the life and health of plants. These mouths cannot be well discerned, except when they are opened by the season of the year, either before the first leaves of spring, or in the midsummer shooting time; though a small quantity of moisture will keep them open at that time, yet no quantity would be sufficient at an improper season.136 136 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 47. The blea is a zone more or less perfect, which lies under the bark, and covers or surrounds the wood, and is principally distinguished from it by being less dense. In some species the difference between the blea and the wood is very remarkable, in others it is less so. The ancient botanists, struck with the difference they observed between the wood and the blea, compared this substance to the fat in animals. Malpighi, Grew, and Du Hamel considered it as the wood not yet arrived to a state of perfection. It is organized in a manner similar to the wood, and possessing the same vessels disposed nearly in the same manner. The juice vessels of this part may be separated from it by maceration; Dr. Hill says, that in this state they appear perfect cylinders, with thick white coats, the surface perfectly uniform. OF THE WOOD. When the bark and the blea are taken away, we come to the wood, which is a solid substance, on which the strength of the tree depends, and which has been considered by naturalists as being to the tree what bones are to the animal. The wood, in a general view may be considered as formed of strata, which are inclosed one within the other; these strata consist of ligneous fibres or lymphatic vessels, the cellular web or tissue, vasa propria, and what have been called the air vessels. It is more difficult to investigate the construction of the wood than that of the other parts, because the texture is in general much harder, and therefore not so easily separated, requiring very long macerations, and many subjects, before one may be found fit for examination. If a transverse section of almost any kind of wood be examined, we shall perceive these strata very clearly and sensibly distinguished from one another. It has been generally supposed that each of these is the product of one years growth; though, if we cut the same wood obliquely, it will be found that each of these strata is compounded of smaller ones, which are therefore not so easy to discover as the larger. By macerating rotten pieces of trees, the wood may be divided into an immense number of leaves or strata, thinner than the finest paper. If the foregoing strata be examined in their detached state by the microscope, we shall find them to be composed of longitudinal fibres; some pieces of rotten wood, after maceration, will divide of themselves into very fine longitudinal fibres; the existence of these is further proved by the facility with which wood may be split in the direction of these fibres. From hence we may collect, that the ligneous strata are formed of small fibres or vessels, collected together in fascicles, like the bark: in some trees they are parallel to each other, in others they are disposed more obliquely, crossing and forming an irregular kind of network. There is great probability that this reticular disposition exists in all trees, though it may be difficult to discover it in many on account of the fineness of the meshes, the hardness of the wood, and the sameness of colour in the constituent fibres. We are here only speaking of the lymphatic vessels or ligneous fibres of the wood, which exist in it as well as in the bark, though in different states; for the ligneous fibres are always harder and less flexible than the cortical ones. Malpighi thinks they differ in another particular, namely, that a juice or fluid issues from the cortical fibres, while none is found in those of the wood. In this it would appear from the observations of Du Hamel, that he was mistaken. A transverse section of wood generally appears formed of a number of rays proceeding from the corona to the bark, which are intersected at different distances by concentric circles, interspersed with vessels of varying magnitude: the variations in this structure afford much pleasure to the curious observer, and throw considerable light upon the nature and properties of timber; for it is by means of a variety of strainers that different juices are prepared from the same mass. Matter, considered as matter, has no share in the qualities of bodies. It is from the arrangement of it, or the recipient forms given to it, that we have so many different substances. According to the modifications that these receive, we shall find the same light, air, water, and earth, manifesting themselves in one by a deadly poison, and in another by the most salubrious food. A lemon ingrafted upon an orange stock, is capable of changing the sap of the orange into its own nature, by a different arrangement of the nutritive juices. One mass of earth will give life and vigour to the bitter aloe, to the sweet cane, the cool houseleek, and the fiery mustard, the nourishing grain, and the deadly nightshade. The wood may be considered as composed of two parts, ligneous and parenchymatous. The former has already been treated of; the latter is that which is disposed into rays, running as it were between the ligneous fibres, and interweaving with them; it originates either with the pith or corona. There is a very great diversity in these radial insertions; in some trees there are very few, while they abound in others; in some they are very fine, in others very thick. In texture, they seem similar to the blebs of the bark, only that here they are so crowded and stretched out as to appear like parallel threads, somewhat similar to a net when drawn tight. OF THE CORONA. Dr. Hill gives this name to that circle which surrounds the pith, and separates it from the wood; although in his opinion it differs greatly from both, and in its composition has no resemblance to either. It is, according to him, the most important part in the whole vegetable fabric, by which the propagation and increase of the branches, buds, and shoots, are carried on.137 137 Hill on the Construction of Timber, p. 55. It has been usual to suppose the pith of vegetables to be the part in which these wonderful sources of increase reside, but this is not the case; and he asserts, that so far from being prior to the other parts, it is in reality posterior to some of them in the time of its formation. The corona is not so uniform as the other parts, nor is it constituted exactly similar in all trees. It is placed between the pith and wood in all vegetables, forming a ring, whose outline is more or less regulated. The general circle is cellular, composed of blebs and vessels, like the bark and the rind, and is perfectly similar to them, only that at different distances oblong clusters of different vessels are placed amongst it. These clusters are usually eight or ten in number, and give origin to the angles of the corona. They are not uniform, or of one kind of vessels, as in the bark, but each has two distinct sorts, the exterior one answering to the blea, and the interior, to the wood of trees; and within each of these are disposed vessels not unlike those in the blea and wood, though often larger than they are found in those parts. Thus each cluster is composed of all the essential parts of the succeeding branch, and the intermediate parts of the circle are absolutely bark and rind; they are ready to follow and clothe the cluster when it goes off in the form of a shoot, because it will then need their covering and defence, though in its present inclosed state it does not. It is from this construction, that a tree is ready at all times and in all parts to shoot out branches, and every branch in the same manner to send out others; for the whole trunk, and the branch in all its length, have this course of eight or ten clusters of essential vessels ready to be protruded out, and the proper and natural integuments as ready to cover them. In some trees, these parts are more evident, in others more obscurely arranged. Dr. Hill says, the bocconia, or parrotwood of the WestIndies, and the greater celandine, are proper subjects for opening this great mystery of nature. On the corona and its clusters depend that property of vegetables, that they can be produced entire from every piece. These clusters follow the course of the other portions of the tree; they are therefore everywhere; they are always capable of growing, and their growth, even in a cutting of the smallest twig, cannot produce a leaf, or any other part of a vegetable alone, but must afford the whole; for they are complete bodies, and the whole is there waiting only for the opportunity of extension, by obtaining sufficient nourishment. For the knowledge we have of this part we are altogether indebted to Dr. Hill. It remains for future observers to confirm, or disprove his observations. OF THE PITH. The pith is found in the center of every young shoot of a tree; it is large in some, less in others, but present in all. It is placed close within the corona. It seems to be nothing more than a congeries of the cellular tissue; it is generally found near the center of the tree, inclosed as it were within a tube; in general, the cells of the pith are larger than those of the cellular tissue, with which, according to Du Hamel, it communicates. For the rays which extend from the pith to the bark are, in his opinion, produced from it. Thus, though it may differ in name from the parenchymatous parts of the bark, and the radial insertions in the wood, yet it is of the same nature and texture, and is continuous with them; so that, according to this idea, the skin, the parenchyma, the insertions, and the pith, are all one piece of work, filled up in divers manners with the vessels. The bark and the wood grow thicker every year, while the pith, on the contrary, grows more slender, so that in a branch of one year it is of a larger size than it is in the same branch when two years old, and so on. In very young branches, while in an herbaceous state, the pith forms the greatest part of its substance; but when the fibres are stronger, the pith becomes less succulent, and surrounded with a tube of wood; when the branch has arrived to a certain age, it is so compressed as to be almost annihilated. In examining different branches that proceed from others in their first state, a small communication between the pith of the one and the other will be found; but this communication is generally entirely closed up in the second or third year.138 The cells of which the pith is formed are at first entirely one connected body; but as the plant grows up, it is often so broken and ruptured, as to remain no longer a continuous substance. 138 Du Hamel Physique des Arbres, tom. 1, p. 38. This, as well as many other particulars in the history of the pith, corroborates the opinion of Dr. Hill,139 who thinks it is formed for the purpose of moistening the clusters of the corona, and regulating its extension; it has been supposed coeval with, or primordial to all the other parts, but he thinks it is postnate, and comes after them in the order of time, as well as in its uses; that exhaled air gives origin to its blebs, and the thickness of the juices cloathing the bubble, gives it form and substance. The first season is the time of its greatest use, and it immediately after begins to decay. 139 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 66. The pith has in general been represented as much more complex than it really is. It consists of a range of bladders lying one over the other. The membrane is simple, the outline single; but as it is very difficult to procure it in this simple state, it is often seen and represented under a variety of irregular, though pleasing forms, which are occasioned by the intersections of the outlines of the blebs, as seen one over another. A cluster in any part of the corona, protruding itself onward and outward in the growing season,140 carries a part of the circle out with it. The cluster itself is a perfect piece of the wood and blea, and the bark which follows it out in its progress perfectly clothes it; thus is the first protrusion of the shoot made, but all this while there is no pith. The continuation of growth is made by the extension of all the parts obliquely upwards; in the course of this extension they hollow themselves into a kind of cylinder, of the form of the future branch, and by this disposition a small vacancy is made in their center. This enlarges as they increase, and as it enlarges it becomes filled with the exudation of those little bladders which remain and constitute the pith, fed from the inner coat of the pith, which already begins to form itself into a new corona. Grew seemed to think, that in some instances the pith was of posterior growth to the other parts, and derived its origin from the bark; and that the insertions of the bark running in between the rays of the wood meet in the center, and constitute the pith. 140 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 99. OF THE SAP VESSELS. The most numerous and the largest apertures are generally to be found in the wood, which are perceived very distinctly in a transverse section, in which the ends of the vessels are seen as cut through by the knife. The scarlet oak of America is recommended as a proper object for exhibiting them. If a short cylinder of a three years branch of this oak, a little macerated, be hollowed away with a chissel, we shall see what a large portion of the wood is occupied by these vessels; they are thick and strong, and it is easy, with some care and attention, to loosen several of them. If a number of these thus separated be put into a vial of rain water, and frequently shook for several days, some will at length be found perfectly clean; these are then to be put into spirit of wine, and when that has been two or three times changed, they will be in a condition to be viewed for understanding their structure; another method of preparation has already been shewn in page 162. These are the vessels which have been called by some writers air, by others, tracheal vessels. It is, however, to be remarked, that most of those who have considered them as air vessels, refer us to the tree while in a more herbaceous state; in this case they say, that we shall find these parts filled with a fine spiral filament. As these vessels are often to be found empty, they have been supposed to answer the purposes of lungs to the plant. Malpighi asserts, that if they be examined in winter, they often exhibit a vermicular motion, which astonishes the spectator. Those who suppose the corona to contain the whole structure of the tree in miniature, and that it is the embryo of future shoots, suppose it to contain the vessels proper for each part, a subject that must be left to the decision of future observers. OF THE VASA PROPRIA INTIMA. These are the only vessels which remain to be spoken of. They are large, conspicuous, and important; their natural place is in the blea, though they are sometimes repeated in the wood and the corona. Their coats are thicker than those of any other vessels.141 It is not difficult, after a successful maceration, to separate some of these vessels from the blea; in this state they appear perfect cylinders, with thick white coats, of a firm, solid, and uniform texture. 141 Hills Construction of Timber, p. 83 and 85. It has generally been supposed, that each of those concentric circles, which are to be observed in the transverse section of almost every tree, was the product of one year, or the quantity of wood added to the tree in that space; here, however, Dr. Hill differs again from the general opinion. From what has been said, we may deduce the following general ideas relative to the organization of trees. The most obvious and remarkable parts of a plant, or tree, are the root, the stem, the branches, the leaves, the flower, and the fruit. The component parts of these divisions are not complicated; they are simple when compared with those of an animal, and this because the offices of the vegetable are fewer than those of the animal. The interior part may be considered as consisting of ligneous fibres, interspersed with a vast number of bladders, which are here named the cellular tissue, the vasa propria, and the sap vessels; though these are considered by some writers as mere air vessels. The ligneous fibres are very fine tubes, proceeding nearly in a vertical direction from the top to the bottom of the tree; they are sometimes parallel to each other, sometimes they divaricate, and often leave oblong intervals or spaces. There is great reason for supposing them to be a species of lymphatic vessels. The vacant spaces between these fibres are filled up by a vesicular membrane, lying in an horizontal direction, and which is called in this chapter the cellular tissue. The vasa propria are formed of ligneous fibres, but differ from the foregoing in their size, and in the juices which they contain. In the part properly called the wood, we meet with the sap vessels; but as in some states they seem as if they were formed of a silvercoloured spiral membrane, and are found without any juices, they have been supposed to be air vessels, and called the trachea, making up an arterial system, and supplying the place of the heart in animals. The interior part of the tree may be further considered as divided into four principal concentric strata, the bark, the blea, the wood, and the pith; to these Dr. Hill has added the corona. Whatever part of a plant is examined, we find these and no more. The root, its ascending stalk, and descending fibre, are formed of one, and not three different substances. Thus the whole vegetable is reduced to one entire body. And what appears in the flower to be formed of altogether distinct parts, will be found to originate in these. The bark, which is the exterior covering of the tree, is divided into two parts, a thin outer rind, and a much thicker inner one. The exterior one seems to be little more than a fine film of irregular meshes, the inner one composed of large blebs, leaving in some subjects large vacant spaces, which form its vasa propria. It is made up of several strata lying one over the other. Next to this is the blea, which is of an uniform structure. It is an imperfect wood, waiting only for the hand of time to be brought to perfection. The duration of the blea in this middle state depends on the internal powers and strength of the tree, being so much shorter as this is more vigorous. The wood, including the corona, comes next; it differs in density and duration both from the blea, the bark, and the wood. It is made up of strong fibres. The life of the vegetable seems to reside in it; from it all the other parts are produced. It shoots a pith inwards, and a blea and a bark outwards. Every tree may be considered as consisting of numerous concentric strata or flakes, forming so many cones, inscribed one within the other, and whose number is almost indefinite. The most exterior contain the rudiments of the bark; the more interior, those of the wood. In the germ they are gelatinous, by degrees they become herbaceous, and in process of time assume the consistence of wood. Thus the stem, the root and the branch, may be considered as formed of a prodigious number of concentric vertical strata, each composed of different fascicles of fibres; which fibres are again formed of smaller ones. The spaces between these, and among the fibres, are filled up, interwoven with, and connected by the cellular tissue, of which the radial insertions are formed. The strata harden successively one after the other; the most interior stratum is that which hardens first; this is then covered by another which is more ductile and herbaceous, and so on; so that the bulk of the tree is increased every year by the accession of an hollow cylinder of wood derived from the internal bark. From the extension in breadth, the tree acquires bulk; from that in length it gains its height. The strata gradually diminish in size as they gain in length; from hence the conical figure of the root, stem, and branch. All the parts of the plant are the same, differing in nothing more than in shape and size. The roots are sharp and pointed, that they may make their way more readily through the earth. The leaves are broad, that they may more effectually catch the moisture from the atmosphere, c. When the root of a tree is elevated above, instead of being retained under the earth, it assumes the appearance of a perfect plant, with leaves and branches. Experiment shews that a young tree may have its branches placed in the earth, and its roots elevated in the air, and in that inverted state it will continue to live and grow. The principal source of the phnomena of vegetation is the simplicity and uniformity of their organization. The figures in Plates XXVIII. XXIX. and XXX. are portions of transverse sections of trees and herbs. The sections were cut by Mr. Custance,142 who first brought this art to perfection, and remains hitherto unrivalled in these performances. 142 For a collection of Mr. Custances vegetable cuttings, and which, in sets, usually accompany the best sort of microscopes, made by Messrs. Jones, see the list of microscopical objects now annexed to this work by the editor. Plate XXVIII. Fig. 1, exhibits a piece of an herb growing on rubbish, and known by the name of fathen:143 Fig. 2, a microscopic view of the same. Fig. 3, a magnified representation of a section of a reed that comes from Portugal: Fig. 4, the real size of the section. 143 Chenopedium bonus Henricus. Plate XXIX. Fig. 1, is a magnified view of a section of the althea frutex: Fig. 2, the natural size of the section. Fig. 3, a magnified view of a section of the hazel: Fig. 4, its natural size. Fig. 5, a microscopic view of a section of a branch of the limetree: Fig. 6 represents its natural size. Plate XXX. Fig. 1, a magnified view of a section of the sugarcane: Fig. 2, its natural size. Fig. 3, a magnified view of a section of the bamboo cane: Fig. 4, the natural size. Fig. 5, a magnified view of a section of the common cane: Fig. 6, the real size. CHAP. X. OF THE CRYSTALLIZATION OF SALTS, AS SEEN BY THE MICROSCOPE; TOGETHER WITH A CONCISE LIST OF OBJECTS. Crystallization, in general, signifies the natural formation of any substance into a regular figure, resembling that of a natural crystal. Hence the phrases of the crystallized ores, crystallized salts, c. and even the basaltic rocks are now generally reckoned to be effects of this operation; the term, however, is most commonly applied to bodies of the saline kind; and their separation in regular figures from the water, or other fluid in which they were dissolved, is called their crystallization. If the word crystallization were to be confined to its most proper sense, as it seems to have been formerly, it could only be applied to operations by which certain substances are disposed to pass from a fluid to a solid state, by the union of their parts, which so arrange themselves, that they form transparent and regularlyfigured masses, like native crystal; from which resemblance the word crystallization has evidently been taken.144 144 Macquers Dictionary of Chemistry, Art. Crystallization. But modern chemists and naturalists have much extended this expression, and it now signifies a regular arrangement of the parts of any body which is capable of it, whether the masses so arranged be transparent or not. Thus opake stones, pyrites, and minerals when regularly formed, are said to be crystallized, as well as transparent stones and salts. The opacity and transparency of substances are justly disregarded, in considering whether they be crystallized or not; for these qualities are perfectly indifferent to the regular arrangement of the integrant parts of substances, which is the essential object of crystallization. This being established, crystallization may be defined, an operation by which the integrant parts of a body, separated from each other by the interposition of a fluid, are disposed to unite again, and to form solid, regular, and uniform masses. To understand as much as we can of the mechanism of crystallization, we must remark, 1. That the integrant parts of all bodies have a tendency to each other, by which they approach, unite, and adhere together, when not prevented by an obstacle. 2. That in bodies simple or littlecompounded, this tendency of integrant parts is more obvious and sensible than in others more compounded; hence the former are much more disposed to crystallize. 3. That although we do not know the figure of the primitive integrant molecules of any body, we cannot doubt but that those of every different body have a constantly uniform and peculiar figure. 4. That these integrant parts cannot have an equal tendency to unite indiscriminately by any of their sides, but by some preferably to others, excepting all the sides of an integrant part of a body be equal and similar; and probably the sides, by which they tend to unite, are those by which they can touch most extensively and immediately. The most general phnomena of crystallization may be conceived in the following manner: Let a body be supposed to have its integrant parts separated from each other by some fluid; if a part of this fluid be taken away, these integrant parts will approach together: and, as the quantity of intervening fluid diminishes, they will at last touch and unite. They may also unite when they come so near to each other, that their mutual tendency shall be capable of overcoming the distance betwixt them. If, besides, they have time and liberty to unite with each other by the sides most disposed to this union, they will form masses of a figure constantly uniform and similar. For the same reason, when the interposed fluid is hastily taken away, so that the integrant parts shall be approximated, and be brought into contact before they have taken the position of their natural tendency, then they will join confusedly by such sides as chance presents to them; they will, in such circumstances, form solid masses, whose figures will not be determinate, but irregular and various. Different salts assume different figures in crystallization, and are, by these means, easily distinguished from one another. But besides the large crystals produced in this way, each salt is capable of producing a very different appearance of the crystalline kind, when only a drop of the saline solution is made use of, and the crystallization viewed through a microscope. For our knowledge of this species of crystallization, we are indebted to Mr. Henry Baker, who was presented by the Royal Society with a gold medal for the discovery, in the year 1744. These microscopical crystals he distinguishes from the larger ones by the name of configurations; but this term seems inaccurate, and the distinction may be properly preserved by calling the large ones the COMMON, and the small ones the MICROSCOPICAL, crystals of the salt. It has not yet been shewn by any writer on the subject, why salts should assume any regular figure, much less why every one should have a form peculiar to itself. Sir Isaac Newton endeavoured to account for this, by supposing the particles of salt to be diffused through the solvent fluid, at equal distances from each other; and that then the power of the attraction between the saline particles could not fail to bring them together in regular figures, as soon as the diminution of heat suffered them to act on each other. But it is certain some other agent must be concerned in this operation, besides mere attraction, otherwise all salts would crystallize in the same manner. Others have, therefore, had recourse to some kind of polarity in the particles of each salt, which determined them to arrange themselves in such a certain form; but unless we give a reason for this polarity, we only explain crystallization by itself. One thing seems to have been overlooked by those who have endeavoured to investigate this subject, namely, that the saline particles do not only attract one another, but they also attract some part of the water which dissolves them. Did they only attract each other, the salt, instead of crystallizing, would fall to the bottom as a powder; whereas, a saline crystal is composed of salt and water, as certainly as the body of an animal is composed of flesh and blood, or a vegetable of solid matter and sap; if a saline crystal be deprived of its aqueous part, it will as certainly lose its crystalline form, as if it were deprived of the saline part. It is, therefore, not improbable, that crystallization is a species of vegetation, and is accomplished by the same powers to which the growth of plants and animals is to be ascribed. Some kinds of crystallization resemble vegetation so much, that we can scarce avoid attributing them to the same cause. It has been imagined, that all the great operations in nature may be reduced to two principles, those of crystallization and organization; but that often they are so concealed, as to be invisible. Hence crystallized substances have been frequently mistaken for organized ones, and vice versa. They differ, however, essentially in their growth and origin. Organized beings spring from a germ, in which all the essential parts are concentrated, and they grow by intusception; whereas crystallized substances increase by the successive apposition of certain molecules of a determined figure, which unite in one common mass. Thus crystallized beings do not grow, properly speaking, though their substance is augmented, they are not preformed, but formed daily. The phnomena of crystallization have much engaged the attention of modern chemists, and a vast number of experiments has been made with a view to determine exactly the different figures assumed by salts in passing from a fluid to a solid form. It does not, however, appear, from all that has yet been done, that any certain rule can be laid down in these cases, as the figure of saline crystals may be varied by the slightest circumstances. Thus, sal ammoniac, when prepared by a mixture of pure volatile alkali with spirit of salt, shoots into crystals resembling feathers; but if, instead of a pure alkali, we make use of one just distilled from bones, and containing a great quantity of animal oil, we shall, after some crystallizations of the feathery kind, obtain the very same salt in the form of cubes. Such salts as are sublimeable crystallize not only in the aqueous way by solution and evaporation, but also by sublimation; and the difference betwixt the figures of these crystals is often very remarkable. Thus, sal ammoniac, by sublimation never exhibits any appearance of feathery crystals, but always forms cubes or parallelopipeds. This method of crystallizing salts by sublimation has not as yet been investigated by chemists; nor indeed does the subject seem capable of investigation without much trouble, as the least augmentation of the heat beyond the proper degree would make the crystals run into a solid cake, while a diminution of it would cause them to fall into powder. In aqueous solutions, too, the circumstances which determine the shapes of the crystals are innumerable; and the degree of heat, the quantity of salt contained in the liquor, nay, the quantity of the liquor itself, and the various constitutions of the atmosphere at the time of crystallization, often occasion such differences as seem quite unaccountable and surprizing. Mr. Bergman has given a dissertation on the various forms of crystals; which, he observes, always resemble geometrical figures more or less regular. Their variety at first appears infinite; but by a careful examination it will be found, that a great number of crystals, seemingly very different from each other, may be produced by the combination of a small number of original figures, which therefore he thinks may be called primitive. On this principle he explains the formation of the crystalline gems, as well as salts.145 145 Encycl. Britan. Vol. V. p. 583. It has been already shewn, page 163, how to prepare the various salts for microscopical observations. The beautiful crystallizations represented in Plates XXXI. and XXXII. were produced in the manner there described. Plate XXXI. Fig. 2, exhibits a view of the microscopical crystals of nitre. These shoot from the edges with very little heat, in flattish figures, of various lengths, and exceedingly transparent, the sides nearly parallel, though rather jagged, and tapering to a point; after a number of these are formed, they often dissolve under the eye, and disappear entirely; but in a little time new shoots will push out, and the process go on afresh. Beautiful ramifications are formed round the edge, and many regular figures are to be observed in different parts of the drop. Fig. 1 is the real size of the drop. Fig. 4 is a drop of distilled verdigrise, as it appeared when viewed by the microscope. There is a difference in the appearance from this substance, according as the time of the application is nearer to, or more distant from that in which the solution was made. Fig. 3, the size of the drop. If a drop of distilled verdigrise upon glass be viewed through the microscope, after the crystallization is completed and the water evaporated, there remains a substance round the crystallization, which preserves the original size and shape of the drop when a liquid; betwixt this verge of the drop and the crystals fine lines are discernible running from the crystals to the circumference of the drop, at various angles with the crystals; whatever direction they take, they are always perfectly straight, and of an equal thickness throughout. When the drop is viewed through a light ground, these lines appear dark; but when viewed through a dark ground, they then shine and appear of the beautiful green colour natural to the crystals of verdigrise. Plate XXXII. Fig. 1, represents the microscopical appearance of the crystals of salt of wormwood. The shootings from the edges of this solution are often very thick in proportion to their length, their sides full of notches, the ends generally acute; many spearlike forms are also to be observed, as well as little crystals of a variety of figures. Fig. 2. Salt of amber. The shootings of this salt are highly entertaining, though the process is very slow; many spicul shoot from the edge towards the middle of the solution, and from the pointed ends of the spicul a great variety of diversified branches may be observed, variously divided and subdivided, and forming at last, says Baker, a winter scene of trees without leaves. Fig. 3. Salt of hartshorn. This salt shoots out from the edge of the drop into solid, thick, and rather opake figures; from these it often shoots into branches of a rugged appearance, similar to those of some species of coral. Fig. 4 represents the microscopical crystals of sal ammoniac. These form a most beautiful object in the microscope; a general idea may be more easily acquired by attentively viewing the figure here exhibited, than by any verbal description.146 146 A collection of salts, as recommended by Mr. Baker, properly prepared and packed in portable boxes by Messrs. Jones, the reader will see in the extensive list of microscopic objects now annexed to this work by the editor. A CONCISE LIST OF OBJECTS FOR THE MICROSCOPE. The short list here presented to the reader must, from the nature of the subject, be very imperfect; for the whole of the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, with all their numerous subdivisions, furnish objects for the microscope; and there is not one of them, that, when properly examined, will not afford instruction and entertainment to the rational investigator of the works of creation. The Systema Natur of Linnus may therefore be regarded as a catalogue of universals for microscopic observation, each of which comprehends a variety of particulars. The list here given can be considered as little more than a directory, to point out to those who have only begun to study this part of natural history a few of those objects which merit their attention, and which, from their beauties, may incite them to pursue the study with greater ardor. OF OPAKE OBJECTS. Ores and minerals afford an immense variety of very beautiful and splendid objects. From amongst these the observer may select the peacock or coloured copper ore, green crystallized ditto, lead ore, crystallized ditto, crystals of lead, small grained marcasites, coloured mundic, cinnabar, native sulphur, needle and other antimony, moss copper, c. A mixture of small pieces of ores, c. of different kinds, produces a pleasing effect. Sands in general exhibit something not discoverable with the naked eye. Sand from the seashore is often intermixed with minute shells, particularly that from Rimini, in Italy. Mr. Walker has published a specimen of the small microscopic shells which are found on our own coast. From this work we learn, that there are shellfish as small as the minutest insects, and possessed of beauties of which we can form no conception till we have seen them. Mr. Walkers work is entitled, A Collection of the minute and rare Shells lately discovered in the Sand on the Seashore near Sandwich.147 There is a sand from Africa full of small garnets. The ketton, or kettering stone, is a pleasing object; when examined by the microscope, we find the grain of it very different from that of other stones, being composed of innumerable minute balls, which barely touch each other, and yet form a substance much harder than freestone; the grains are, in general, so firmly united together at the points of contact, that it is hardly possible to separate them without breaking one or both of the grains. See Hookes Micrographia. 147 This publication will be more particularly noticed in the ensuing chapter. EDIT. Insects of all kinds, both foreign and domestic, are pleasing objects; but as the foreign ones are not so easily met with, I shall mention but a few of them, confining myself principally to those of this country. Among the exotic insects, none appear more beautiful in the microscope than the curculio imperialis, Brazil or diamond beetle; the buprestis ignita, or large beetle from China; the meloe vesicatorius, Linn. the cantharis or Spanish fly of the shops; several species of locusts, grasshoppers, c. Among the English beetles, we may reckon the scarabus auratus or rose chaffer, scarabus nobilis, scarabus horticola, silpha aquatica, cassida nobilis and nebulosa. Coccinella or ladycow; of these there are great varieties both in size and colour, some red and black, others black and red, and some yellow and black. Chrysomela graminis, chrysomela fastuosa, chrysomela nitidula, chrysomela sericea, chrysomela melanopa, chrysomela asparagi, see Plate XX. Fig. 2. Curculio frumentarius, lapathi, betula, nucum, scrophularia, argenteus, a beautiful little insect resembling the diamond beetle, but in miniature; curculio albinus, very beautiful, but scarce in this country. Leptura aquatica, these are of various colours, as blue, purple, bronze, and crimson. Arcuata arietis, very common, and is often called the wasp beetle. Cicindela campestris, on dry banks. Carabus nitens, found in Yorkshire, a beautiful insect; many small carabi. Gryllus, gryllotalpa or mole cricket, this insect, and the grasshoppers, are many of them too large to be observed at one view, but the head, fore and hind feet, elytra, c. viewed separately, are fine objects. Cicada sanguinolenta, nervosa, interrupta, notonecta striata, minutissima, head and claws of the nepa cinerea or waterscorpion, and the whole variety of cimices or field bugs. The wings of butterflies and moths; the chrysalis of the common white butterfly is extremely fine. I wish it were in my power to invite the reader to consider the pupa state of these insects, as he would find them interesting in various points of view. Perhaps the following passage from an ingenious writer may have this effect. Some of these creatures crawl for a time as helpless worms upon the earth, like ourselves; they then retire into a covering, which answers the end of a coffin or a sepulchre, wherein they are invisibly transformed, and come forth in glorious array, with wings and painted plumes, more like the inhabitants of the heavens than such worms as they were in their former state. This transformation is so striking and pleasant an emblem of the present, the intermediate, and glorified state of man, that people of the most remote antiquity, when they buried their dead, embalmed and inclosed them in an artificial covering, so figured and painted, as to resemble the caterpillar in the intermediate state; and as Joseph was the first we read of that was embalmed in Egypt, where this custom prevailed, it was probably of Hebrew original. The eggs of moths and butterflies, particularly the phalna neustria, see Plate X. Fig. 1 to 6. The bodies and heads of many libellul. Many of the ichneumon flies, spheges, and wasps, head of the hornet, sting of ditto, collectors of the bee, many sorts of musc, or flies with two wings, especially those whose bodies are highly coloured; acari or ticks; phalangium cancroides, see Plate XVIII. Fig. 1 and 6. Some spiders, but the eyes of all; the oniscus or woodlouse, julus, and scolopendra. The feathers of peacocks, and many other birds, have a grand effect when viewed in the opake microscope, as have also some species of ferns, mosses, and wood cut transversely. Madrepores, millepores, sponges, corallines, c. exhibit wonderful appearances not discernible to the naked eye. Parts of echini or sea eggs, spines of ditto; these may also be cut transversely to shew their construction. Minute shells dissected, skin of many species of fish, particularly the lumpsucker, see Plate XVIII. Fig. 2. Sole fish, Plate XIX. Fig. 5. and the rasp fish from Otaheite; also the skins of snakes, lizards, guanas, c. c. The exterior form, and even the interior structure of the generality of vegetable seeds, have been supposed by some so much alike in the several kinds, and of so little curiosity and beauty in the whole, that they have scarcely been regarded by the curious; but when nearly examined with the help of microscopes, they are found to be worthy of a greater attention; those which appear most like to one another when viewed by the naked eye, often proving as different, when thus examined, in their several forms and characters, as the different genera of any other bodies in the creation. If their external forms carry all this variety and beauty about them, their internal structure, when laid open by different sections, appears yet more admirable. The seed of the greater maple, which we commonly, but improperly call the sycamore tree,148 consists of a pod and its wing; two of these grow upon a pedicle, with the pods together, which makes them resemble the body of an insect with its expanded wings: the wings are finely vasculated, and the pods are winged with a fine white down resembling silk; this contains a round compact pellet, covered with a brown membrane that sticks very closely to it. When this is pulled off, instead of discerning a kernel, as in other seeds, there appears an entire green plant folded up in a most surprizing manner. The pedicle of this is about twoeighths of an inch long, and its seminal leaves of about sixeighths each; between these the germina of the next pair of leaves are plainly visible to the naked eye, but with a microscope they are seen with the greatest beauty and perfection. 148 The Acer pseudoplatanus, Hudsoni Fl. Angl. p. 445. Parkinson calls it acer majus, adding, sycomorus falso dictum. Hudson, however, agrees with Hunter in his edition of Evelyns Sylva, in affixing to it the English term greater maple or sycamore. EDIT. The seed of the musk scabious is beautiful in its shape and structure. The calix or cup which contains the seed is of an octagonal form, and makes an appearance like a fine vase, having scallopped edges, and toward the inner part of the edge a white ruffled membrane. The ribs run down from its mouth, which is bellfashioned, and becoming narrower downward, form obtuse angles by continuing from the bend to form the bottom of the vase. Between these ribs, down to the beginning of the narrow part, it is clear, though not wholly transparent, and from thence to the bottom the ribs are hairy. This vase contains the seed, wherein appears first its thick body, which runs up with a narrow neck, till it divides into five spiculated fibres, whose spicul are determined upwards, and are thereby prepared to cause the seed to recede from any thing that might injure it on being touched. The bodies of the vases, when first ripe, are of a fine lemon yellow, but grow by long keeping darker; and the bason formed by the roots of the minute fibres is of a fine green, but the fibres themselves of a shining brown, like brown sugarcandy, as their spines are also. These, and a number of similar beauties in this part of the creation, are described at large by Dr. Parsons, in his work entitled, The Microscopic Theatre of Seeds.149 Most kinds of seeds should be prepared for a microscopical examination by steeping them in warm water till their coats are separated, and their seminal leaves may then be opened without laceration. But seeds, while dry, and without any preparation, are of an almost infinite variety of shapes, and afford a number of pleasing objects for the microscope. 149 This curious work was published in the year 1745. It was the authors intention to have comprised the whole design in four volumes quarto, but the first volume only appeared. It contains the etymology, synonyma, and description of the several plants and their flowers, with an account of their medical virtues, and an explanation of botanical terms. As the work is in but few hands, and a copy not easy to be procured, I flatter myself that extracts from those parts containing the microscopical descriptions will form an agreeable addition to these Essays; which the reader will accordingly meet with in the following chapter. EDIT. One of the most interesting scenes in microscopical botany is exhibited in mouldiness. Those miniature plants seem to bear the same relation to the vegetable kingdom that the animalcula infusoria do to the animal; they were formerly considered as shapeless and unformed masses, but we now view them with surprize and pleasure taking their place in the great scale of organized beings, and presenting us with some of the most striking characteristics of vegetables. OF TRANSPARENT OBJECTS. We may select from the elytra, or upper wings of beetles, many beautiful objects, the construction of these will be found to differ very much; the membranaceous wings, as in the scarabus solstitialis or small cockchaffer; blatta Americana or cockroach; all the grylli, as locusts, grasshoppers, c. Among the cicadas, the elytra of the nervosa are the most elegant, the nerves are elevated, and curiously spotted with brown. The elytra of the cimices or field bugs, which are a very numerous tribe, afford a great variety of objects; we may select from these as the most beautiful the elytra of the cimex baccarum and the cimex striatus, Plate XX. Fig. 1. The elytra of the fulgora candelaria, from China, differ essentially from all others. The under or more transparent wings of beetles excite our attention even more than the upper or crustaceous ones; for whether we consider the delicacy of their texture, the great weight that many of them are calculated to sustain in the air, or the very curious manner in which they fold them up under the upper case, their mechanism must astonish and delight us; no two genera will be found alike, though every individual of the same genus will be exact. The wing of the forficula auricularia or earwig, Plate XIV. is an elegant specimen of the manner of their folding; this wing folds under a case not oneeighth of its size. The under wing of the blatta orientalis, or beetle common in most kitchens, appears to unite the elytra and transparent wings, partaking in some degree of both. Among the membranaceous or more transparent winged insects, the variety is endless, each genus differing essentially from the other; some appearing full of membranes or nerves, curiously disposed; others, again, with scarce any, like a clear piece of talc or isinglass; some exhibit a curious groundwork of points, which on close examination prove short hairs, while the nerves of others are furnished with little scales or feathers, as in some species of the gnat. The wings of many musc are coloured with black, brown, and white, in clouds, spots, stripes, c. c. The libellul or dragonflies alone afford a great variety, not only in form but colour; these are all furnished with numerous and very strong nerves, adapted to the velocity of their flight. The wings of the ephemera or mayflies, are much more delicate, these flies rest with their wings erect. The phrygane differ very much from the foregoing, and also from one another; their under wings fold, and their upper ones are of a stronger texture, many of them so much resembling small moths as not easily to be distinguished from them: these are all found in the vicinity of ponds and marshy places. In the hemerobii a wonderful degree of elegance is exhibited in the disposition of the nerves which compose their wings, each nerve being adorned with hair in a beautiful manner; there are many species of these flies equally beautiful, a specimen is given in Plate XV. The ichneumon fly has four transparent wings, the inferior ones smaller, and more delicate than the superior; the tube through which the female deposits its eggs is an additional object well worth attention. The wings of wasps are folded longitudinally; the wings of the large bee are very curious. Gnats in general, and the various species of tipul, together with the clouded and variegated wings of the musc, tabani, c. increase the catalogue beyond the power of enumeration; in short, there is not a wing but has its particular beauties, and will amply repay the attentive observer. The currant sphinx moth connects the transparent and farinaceous wings, partaking of both; the white plumed, and manyplumed moths, exhibit wings totally different from all the rest; many other small moths furnish wings sufficiently transparent for observation, the fringe or edges being remarkably beautiful. OF THE PULEX IRRITANS, OR COMMON FLEA. Many small insects that are not too opake, may be viewed and examined as transparent objects; some of these having been particularly noticed by the early microscopic writers, it will be necessary to enumerate a few of them, as without it the work might be deemed incomplete. Every one is acquainted with the agility and bloodthirsty disposition of the flea, of the caution with which it comes to the attack, and the readiness with which it avoids pursuit. It belongs to the class aptera, has two eyes, six feet particularly constructed for leaping, the antenn or feelers are filiform, or rather moniliform; the rostrum is inflected, setaceous, and armed with a sting; the belly is compressed. This creature is produced from eggs, which it deposits on the animals that afford it food, or affixes them to the wool of blankets, rugs, c. These eggs in about a week are hatched into small larv or worms, which are of a whitish colour, with a slight tinge of reddish, and adhere closely to the body of the animal, or other substance on which they are produced; in a fortnight they come to a tolerable size, and are very lively and active; but if they be touched, they roll themselves up in a ball. At this period they prepare themselves for their pupa or chrysalis state, by inclosing themselves in a looselyspun web, or diffused envelopement of a very soft, silky, or rather cottonlike appearance, and of a white colour. In this the larva changes into a chrysalis, out of which in about twelve days emerges the animal in its perfect state, armed with powers to disturb the peace of an emperor, and occasion uneasy sensations in the fairest bosom.150 150 Notwithstanding the inconveniences attending this little insect, and the general disapprobation which its frequent intrusion occasions, there is something pleasing in the appearance of the flea; all its motions are elegant, and all its postures indicate agility. The shelly armour in which it is enveloped, is in a state of perpetual cleanliness; while the muscular power which it is capable of exerting is so extraordinary, as justly to excite our wonder at so much strength confined, and concentrated as it were, in so small a space. The flea, like many other insects, is eminent for its powers of revivescence, and will frequently recover after being placed in situations very unfavourable to animal life. Some of the coleopterous insects are, however, capable of exhibiting far more striking examples of suspended animation. Nat. Misc. vol. v. EDIT. It is difficult to obtain such a view of the flea, as will display the mechanism and apparatus belonging to the head; these parts are but imperfectly represented in the celebrated drawing of Dr. Hooke in his Micrographia. The neck is long, finely arched, and much resembles the tail of a lobster; the body is covered all over with a polished suit of sable armour, formed of a hard shelly substance, curiously jointed and folded over one another, and yet yielding to all the nimble motions of the little animal; the edges of the scales are curiously set with short spikes or hairs: it has two sharp eyes to look before it leaps, for which purpose its legs are excellently adapted, having three large joints in each, besides several smaller ones. These joints are so contrived, that it can as it were fold them up one within another; in leaping, they all spring at once, and the whole strength of the insect is exerted. The flexure of the fore legs is forward, that of the hind legs backward. They are all very hairy, and terminated by two long hooked sharp claws; the two fore legs are placed very near the neck, and often conceal the proboscis from our view, the other four join all at the breast: the proboscis or sucker with which it penetrates the skin, is placed at the end of the snout, and is not easily seen except the two fore legs are first removed; in it are included a couple of darts or lancets, which, after the proboscis has made an entrance, are thrust farther into the flesh, and make the blood flow from the adjacent parts, occasioning that round red spot, with a hole in the center of it, called a fleabite. OF THE CIMEX LECTULARIUS, OR BED BUG. Various are the antipathies of mankind, but all appear to unite in their dislike to this animal and the louse, and to detest them as their natural and nauseous enemies. The bug intrudes upon the peace of mankind, and often banishes that sleep which even anxiety and sorrow permitted to approach: the night is the season when the bed bug issues from its retreat to make its depredations; by day it lurks in the most secret parts of the bed, takes the advantage of every chink and cranny to make a secure lodgement, and contrives its habitation with so much art, that scarce any industry can discover its retreat; but when darkness promises security, it then issues from every corner of the bed, drops from the tester, and crawls from behind the arras, and travels to the unhappy patient, who vainly wishes for rest and refreshment. Linnus is of opinion that this insect is not originally of European growth, but was imported from some other country. It is not only disagreeable on account of the extremely offensive smell proceeding from it, but also because of the rapidity with which it increases, and the voraciousness of its appetite. It has two brown small prominent eyes, two antenn, and a crooked proboscis, which lies close under the breast. Instead of wings, we find on the first ring of the belly two flat pieces which entirely cover it, and extend towards the sides. These plates, the trunk, and the head, are amply set with hairs. The proboscis is divided transversely into four parts, which are probably so many articulations; this piece is best seen on the under side of the bug, being bent flat on the belly, and reaching half way down the body; but the mechanism of this, as well as other parts of these minute insects, cannot be perfectly understood, but by an accurate examination with the microscope. It has six legs, each of which has three joints; these legs, like those of the fly, are formed for running, not leaping; the skin is shagreened, and the separation of the rings usually marked by a smooth shining band. On the belly, at a small distance from the edge, a set of circular spots may be perceived, two on each ring, except the last; these are the spiracula. Examined internally, we find one large artery, a stomach, and intestines. The instant it perceives the light, it endeavours to gain its obscure habitation, and seldom fails in making good its retreat. OF THE PEDICULUS HUMANUS, OR LOUSE. Whenever wretchedness, disease, and hunger seize upon man, the louse seldom fails to add itself to the tribe, and to increase in proportion to the number of his calamities. When the human louse is examined with the microscope, its deformity fills us with disgust. In the head we may distinguish two fine black eyes, looking backward and fenced with hair; near these are the two antenn, each of which has five joints set with short bristles; the forepart of the head is rather long, the hinder more round or obtuse; there is a small part that projects from the nose or snout, this serves as a sheath or case to the proboscis or piercer, which the creature thrusts into the skin to draw out the blood and humours which are its destined food, for it has no mouth which opens in the common way. This proboscis has been estimated to be sevenhundred times smaller than a hair; it is contained in another case within the first, and can be drawn in or thrust out at pleasure; the skin is hard and transparent. From the under side proceed six legs, each of which has five joints, and terminates in two unequal hooked claws, these it uses as we would a thumb and finger; there are hairs between the claws, as well as all over the legs; the body finishes in a cloven tail, which is generally covered, and partly concealed by hairs. From the extreme transparency of its skin, the internal parts may be seen to greater advantage than in any other insect; as, the various ramifications of the veins and arteries, in which a kind of regular pulsation may be observed, as well as the peristaltic motion of the intestines, which is continued from the stomach to the tail. When the louse feeds, the blood rushes like a torrent into the stomach, moving with so strong a propulsion and contraction, as appears very curious. The digestive powers are so great, that the colour of the blood changes in its passage from thick and black at its first entrance, to a fine ruby colour in the intestines, and nearly white in the veins. Its greediness is so great, that the excrement contained in the intestines is ejected at the same time, to make room for this new supply. There is scarce any animal that multiplies so fast as this unwelcome intruder; the moment it is excluded from the egg it begins to breed. It would be endless to describe the various creatures which go under the name of lice, and swarm upon every part of nature. The reader, desirous of a more particular account of those which infest various animals, will obtain full satisfaction, by consulting Rhedis Treatise de Generatione Insectorum. OF THE ARANEA, OR SPIDER. The spider is another insect which is often examined with the microscope, and certainly affords much matter for observation. Formed for a life of rapacity, and incapable of living but by blood, all its habits are calculated to deceive and surprize; it spreads toils to entangle its prey; it is endued with patience to expect its coming, and is possessed of arms and strength to destroy it when fallen into the snare.   To heedless flies the window proves A constant death; where, gloomily retired, The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce, Mixture abhorrd; amid a mangled heap Of carcases, in eager watch he sits, Oerlooking all his waving snares around. Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft Passes, as oft the ruffian shews his front; The prey at last ensnard, he dreadful darts With rapid glide along the leaning line; And fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, Strikes backward grimly pleasd: the fluttring wing And shriller sound declare extreme distress, And ask the helping hospitable hand. THOMSON. The eyes of the spider have been described in page 199, they are a very beautiful microscopic object, viewed either as transparent or opake. The spider has eight legs with three joints, thickly beset with hairs, and terminating in three crooked moveable claws, which have little teeth like a saw; at a small distance from these claws, but placed higher up, is another something like a cocks spur, by the assistance of which it adheres to its webs; but the weapon wherewith it seizes and kills its prey is a pair of sharp crooked claws or forceps placed in the forepart of the head. The insect can open or extend these pincers as occasion may require; when undisturbed, it suffers them to lie one upon another, concealed in two cases constructed for their reception. Leeuwenhoeck says, that each of these claws has a small aperture or slit, through which he supposes a poisonous juice is injected into the wound it makes. The exuvia, or castoff skin of the spider, which may be found in cobwebs, being transparent, is an excellent object; and the fangs or forceps may be more easily separated from it, and examined with greater exactness than in a living subject. The contexture of the spiders web, and the manner of weaving it, have been discovered by the microscope. The spider is supplied with a large quantity of glutinous matter within its body, and five tubercles or nipples for spinning it into thread, of what size it pleases, either by opening or contracting the sphincter muscles. This substance, when examined accurately, will be found twisted into many coils, of an agate colour, and which from its tenacity may be easily drawn out into threads. The five nipples are placed near the extremity of the tail; from these the aforesaid substance proceeds; it adheres to any thing against which it is pressed, and being drawn out hardens in the air. The threads unite at a small distance from the body, so that those which appear to us so fine and single, are, notwithstanding, composed of five joined together, and these are many times doubled when the web is in formation. The web serves him for the double purpose of an habitation and of a machine for catching his food; for in the center of this web it dwells in dismal solitude, like a dragon in his lonely den, an image of the evil one, wasting all things round about it, and eager to destroy every appearance of life. When first hatched, even these loathsome insects seem endued with a principle of association, spinning a web in common; but this connection is of short duration, and soon terminates by their destroying one another. If, like the silkworm, they were disposed to live together peaceably, it is possible that their labours might be productive of advantages nearly similar to that valuable insect; for which purpose repeated attempts have been made, though they proved ineffectual. OF THE CULEX, OR GNAT. The gnat is a beautiful object for the microscope. The curious manner in which it disposes its eggs upon the surface of the water has been noticed in page 288. From the egg proceeds the larva, in which state it is most happily suited to shew the several operations of life; for a moderate magnifying power will discover what passes within its transparent body. It has a large scaly head, with two large antenn, besides several hairy parts, and articulated bristles near the mouth, which are in continual motion. If the worm be dissected, the feet of the gnat may be found folded up in the divisions of the thorax; the abdomen is divided into eight rings, from the edges of each of which three or four bristles proceed. The tail is divided into two parts of very different forms; by one of these it can steer itself in any direction; in the other, two pulmonary tubes may be discovered, through which the insect breathes. The larva has a power of moistening the tail with an oleaginous liquor, by which means it can suspend itself on the surface of the water. On agitating the water, the worms descend with precipitation to the bottom; but they soon return to the surface, to breathe the air through the tube that is annexed to their tail. From this state, they pass into that of the pupa, which is the gnat enclosed in a third skin, under which it is formed and strengthened; the organs of respiration are changed, breathing at this period through a couple of horns, which are placed near the head, keeping itself rolled upon the surface of the water, though on the least motion it unrolls itself and descends, aided by the oars near the tail. From the spoils of the pupa, a little winged insect proceeds, whose every part is active to the highest degree, and whose entire structure is the just object of our admiration. Its head, adorned with feathers, is a fine microscopic object; but the proboscis may be deemed one of the most curious instruments in the insect creation. This formidable apparatus has been particularly described in page 187. The exuvi or castoff skins of insects, being exceedingly transparent, are well adapted for observation, as they exhibit the external appearance of the little animal; among these, may be reckoned those of spiders and cimices, but particularly the forficula auricularia or earwig, which is an elegant exuvia; a magnified view of the beautiful wing of this insect is exhibited in Plate XIV. and described in page 205. The stings of insects vary not only in their form, but also in their apparatus; most of them require dissection; as the stings, for they have generally two, are inclosed in a hard sheath or case, to which is added a pair of feelers. The stings of bees, wasps, c. are barbed, while those of the chrysis are serrated, or notched like a saw. The head of insects is furnished with an instrument or proboscis various as the insects themselves, but all meriting attention, as being admirably adapted to their different uses and purposes. Among the most remarkable are those of the bed bug, flea, gnat, empis, conops, c. to which may be added the singular one of the tabanus, described in page 188, and figured in Plate XVI. A description of the apparatus of the bee has also been given in page 181, and of that of the butterfly in page 186. The antenn of moths, butterflies, and most other insects, display as great beauty in their formation as they are endless in their variety; the distinguishing characters of many of them have been described in pages 190193, and that of the lepas anatifera in particular in page 345, and exhibited in Plate XIII. The eyes of insects are singularly constructed, but this structure is not discoverable without the assistance of the microscope; the eyes of the libellula are hexagonal, see Plate XVI. Fig. 3, and their description in page 195; those of the lobster are square, as exhibited in Fig. 5 of the same plate, and described in page 197. The hair of animals, as the mouse, goat, large bee, and many species of caterpillars, particularly the tufts on the head and tail of the larva of the phalna antiqua, offer many beauties to the curious observer. The bristles of a hog, cut transversely, appear tubular, and the root of hair is evidently bulbous. The muscular fibres, and every anatomical preparation that can be brought under the microscope, are pleasing objects; the reader will meet with many curious and interesting observations on the hairs, the muscles, nerves, and other parts of the human body, in Fontanas Treatise on the Venom of Vipers. The legs of all insects appear very much diversified, and their mechanism truly astonishing, according with their different occupations, as particularized in pages 210212. Scales of fish, as soles, roach, dace, salmon, eels, c. as also the scales of snakes, lizards, c. c. Specimens of scales are given in Plates X. and XIX. The scales form a light, but at the same time a solid and smooth covering to the fish; they hinder the fluid from penetrating the body, for which purpose they are laid in a kind of natural oil; they serve also as a protection, and break the force of any accidental blow, which may be the reason why riverfish have larger and stronger scales than seafish, being more liable to accidents. The purple tide of life, nay the very globules of the blood, may be seen distinctly rolling through veins and arteries smaller than the finest hair.151 151 The manner of viewing the particles of the blood has been described in p. 149, together with some remarks on their form, by our author. It was not my intention to have renewed the subject; but a chirurgical treatise having been lately published by Everard Home, Esq. F. R. S. in which it appears that he has paid particular attention towards investigating these minute particles, and ascertaining their true form, I shall here subjoin an abstract. As the result of microscopical experiments has been found exceedingly fallacious, a prejudice has very naturally arisen against all experiments of this kind upon the secretions of the human body, from a supposition that they are not to be depended upon. But it is right that we should discriminate, and not condemn the use of the microscope altogether, because from ignorance of its principles it has been misapplied; since these very deceptions have been the means of our acquiring a more accurate knowledge of the use and application of that instrument. The errors in the use of the microscope have arisen from increasing the magnifying powers of the glasses too much, and not taking in all the circumstances relating to the refraction of the rays of light, making no allowance for the aberration. An attention to the aberration alone will explain the different appearances under which the red globules of the blood have been represented. Some have found them perfect spheres, which will always be the case when the glasses are perfectly adjusted, and the object placed at the true focal distance. Others have found them annular, from the object being at the focal distance of the rays transmitted near the circumference of the magnifying glass, which are refracted in a greater degree, and consequently shorter than the central rays. Others, again, have viewed them as flattened bodies of a circular figure, bright in the center, and becoming darker towards the edges; which appearance arises from the object being at the focal distance of the central rays of the magnifying glass, which will be less refracted than those near the circumference. Although such are the errors which arise, when microscopical researches are pushed beyond certain bounds; yet, that the red part of the blood is made up of globules, is a discovery for which we are indebted to the microscope, and which seems to be as well ascertained as any discovery in anatomy or physiology. The appearances of pus are equally distinct, when examined on the field of a microscope, as the globules of the blood; they are visible with a small degree of magnifying power, and are the same to the eyes of different persons. EDIT. Feathers, and parts of feathers of birds, are not to be passed by or unnoticed; but it is impossible to point out any of these in preference to others, as each has its peculiar beauties; the plumul of these have generally in the microscope the appearance of large feathers; the pith contained in the quill, if cut transversely and examined, exhibits an admirable reticular texture. Many other parts of birds will afford a great variety of curious objects, particularly the egg: Mr. Martin says, that the internal spongy substance of bones may be better observed in those of birds, than of any other animal; even the feathers or scales of a moths wing amply repay the observer; these also vary in their texture and figure; but the largest and most commonly applied, are from the body of the sphinx stellatarum, or hummingbird moth; a specimen is given in Plate XVI. Fig. E F H I. Transverse sections of all kinds of wood, especially those of a pithy or soft nature, form some of the most delightful objects for the microscope; among these, the section of fern root will be found strikingly curious, from the singular disposition of the air and sap vessels; their beauty will be seen by the figures in Plates XXVIII. XXIX. and XXX. Flowers, whose brilliancy and variety constitute one of the principal beauties of nature, each being distinguished from the rest by some peculiar beauty or shining character. The flowers of most grasses, with all the varieties of mosses; the farina of flowers; mouldiness, which evidently appears to vegetate; all the kinds of sponge; seaweeds; particularly the conferv, which are jointed like a cane. The extensive family of corallines present an elegant appearance; the most beautiful are the sea hair, sea fir, sickle, fox tail, c. described by Ellis. Dissected leaves, which shew the fibres and nerves; the human intestine injected with wax is a fine object; as are many other anatomical preparations. The seed of the silverrind birch appears like an insect; seed of the quaking grass is also much admired, as is the leaf which covers the seed of sorrel. Among artificial productions, the edge of a razor, and point of a fine needle, as also fine cambrick, evidently discover the inferiority of the workman; particles from the collision of flint and steel; wire melted by the electric explosion, and other articles innumerable. Besides these, there is an immense variety of objects which can only be satisfactorily examined alive, such as polypes, minute aquatic insects; animalcula of various infusions, as eels in paste, vinegar, c. The eyes and teeth of snails; the circulation of the blood in the tails of fishes, c.152 152 Those who possess leisure, particularly such who reside in the country, may easily procure the major part of the preceding objects, and also add an extensive variety to them; but those who have not the opportunity of collecting for themselves, may be supplied with objects in considerable variety by application to Messrs. Jones. EDIT. CHAP. XI. AN ARRANGEMENT AND DESCRIPTION OF MINUTE AND RARE SHELLS.A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF A VARIETY OF VEGETABLE SEEDS, AS THEY APPEAR WHEN VIEWED BY THE MICROSCOPE. BY THE EDITOR. Notwithstanding the abundance of objects which have from time to time afforded delight to the attentive and diligent microscopic observer, little doubt can be entertained but that amidst the immense variety of minute shells, as well as the seeds of vegetables, numbers remain unexplored, though highly meriting notice. With the hope of exciting the attention of the curious toward these subjects, and affording hints to those who may happily possess inclination, together with leisure and opportunity to pursue the inquiry, I shall enumerate to the reader a few specimens of each of these admirable productions of nature; towards the elucidating of which, very little, comparatively, has as yet been done. As far as my knowledge extends, the first author who has treated on the subject of minute and rare shells, is Plancus, who published a treatise in quarto, at Venice, in the year 1739, with the title De Conchis Ariminensibus minus notis; a third and improved edition of which appeared in 1760. It is a very curious and learned work, containing a natural history of testaceous animals of Rimini, an Italian town situated on the Adriatic shore; and more particularly of minute nautili. In the year 1784, Mr. Walker of Faversham published in quarto a collection of minute shells, which was the joint production of himself and William Boys, Esq. F. S. A. of Sandwich, in Kent, assisted by the late Edward Jacob, Esq. F. S. A. It contains an arrangement and concise description of ninety shells, accompanied with neatly engraved figures of the whole series; the greater part of them as well in their magnified state, as that in which they appear to the naked eye. Specimens of those which are esteemed most curious and rare, I have selected from this work: a reference to the original will afford the reader more complete satisfaction, and possibly animate him to further pursuits. This publication appeared in so favourable a light to that eminent patron of science, Sir Joseph Banks, that I should accuse myself of unjustifiable remissness, were I to neglect this opportunity of introducing an extract from the copy of a letter addressed by him to the late Mr. Jacob, which is now in my possession. We (the Royal Society) are all much obliged to you for the pains you have taken in bringing this work to light. Natural history is, I am convinced, more benefited by a thin volume of real new facts, which is the case in yours, than by a folio of comments generally written by those who mean to receive praise, more founded on the elegance with which they express the ideas they conceive, than on any prospect of utility to be derived from the ideas themselves. From such naturalists, De Buffon, c. good Lord deliver our honest science. That truly amiable, and no less intelligent lady, the late Duchess Dowager of Portland, likewise expressed her approbation of the work in a letter to Mr. Boys. By this publication, a number of shells, heretofore unknown, are added to the British conchology, sufficient to shew that the path is now laid open and made easy of access to inquisitive naturalists in different parts of the kingdom for still greater discoveries. Indeed, it is rather extraordinary, that the authors of this country, who have so advantageously applied the microscope to a variety of objects in the animal kingdom, should have neglected to examine the shores of our own seas, crowded as they are with objects equally worthy of their investigation. Bakers observation in his Employment for the Microscope, p. 244, is entitled to more attention than has been paid to it. Shellfish, says he, are objects that have as yet been very slightly examined by the microscope, and therefore the serious inquirer into natures secret operations may here be certain of discovering beauties, which at present he can have no conception of. But thus it is, nature opens her rich and inexhaustible treasures by slow degrees to the inquisitive mind of man. In fact, different observers have generally different pursuits, otherwise these objects would scarcely have escaped the attention of many ingenious naturalists, particularly the quicksighted Mr. Ellis, who has so clearly investigated and described the corals and corallines of the adjacent coasts. To those who have perused the treatise of Plancus, already mentioned, it is necessary to observe, that though the sand on our coasts contain a vast variety of specimens, yet it by no means appears so productive as the sand of Rimini; lest, despairing of success in their first researches, they may be induced to desist from further examination. Every parcel will, however, be found to contain some of the more common shells. It may not be improper here to point out to future inquirers the mode of facilitating the discovery of these minute objects. The sand being perfectly dried, put a handful on an open sheet of paper, and by gently shaking it from side to side, the minute shells, being specifically lighter than the sand, will be separated from, and lie on its surface, and will thus be more expeditiously procured than by any other method. It is also adviseable to place the objects intended for inspection in a situation secured from any sudden blast of air, otherwise, owing to their levity, they may be unexpectedly blown away, and a loss sustained of some of the rarer specimens; even incautiously breathing on them, or coughing, may be productive of similar disagreeable effects. The following observations by an ingenious critic153 are so apposite, and so perfectly coincident with my own sentiments on the subject, that I cannot resist the impulse I feel to enable the reader to partake of the pleasure which I have experienced in their perusal. 153 Monthly Review, Vol. LXXI. p. 190. Let not the minuteness of the objects here delineated call up the surly inquiries of those, who have not been accustomed to live with their eyes open to the works of nature: they are not fit judges in these matters. If they will persist in asking, Of what use is all this labour? What good can accrue to mankind from this knowledge, in point of food, or other use? We know of none at all, either present or likely to happen, as to the body, for use or ornament, or to the satisfying any appetite: nevertheless, a much nobler idea will take its rise in our opinion; one which, by displaying so momentously the power of the omniscient Creator, will thwart the infidel in his favourite ideas of escaping the eyes of the Almighty, and force him, as he descends the scale from the more immense objects to these minutissima, to confess, that the being which has formed these, can fully equal all that the tongue of man has yet declared of the possibility of his power. For, what a train of wonders have we here to pursue? What must be the conomy of animals so very diminutive, so weak, so exposed from their situation to the force of every rude wave, and who, notwithstanding, so often escape unhurt? How do they rear their young? From whence collect their prey? A DESCRIPTION AND ARRANGEMENT OF MINUTE AND RARE SHELLS.154 154 Being possessed of Mr. Jacobs own corrected copy of the work, to which he has annexed the trivial names, I am thereby enabled to affix them to the several shells here enumerated. SERPULA. THE WORMSHELL. SERPULA BICORNIS. Plate XIV. Fig. 2. S. bicornis ventricosa. The bellied semilunar wormshell. The colour white, opake, and glossy. From Sandwich and Reculver, though not common. SERPULA PERFORATA. Fig. 3. S. bicornis umbilico perforato. The semilunar perforated wormshell. The colour white, opake, and glossy. From Sandwich: very rare. SERPULA LACTEA. Fig. 4. S. tenuis ovalis lvis. The thin, smooth, eggshaped wormshell. The colour pellucid, with milky veins. From Sandwich: not common. SERPULA LAGENA SULCATA. Fig. 5. S. (lagena) striata sulcata rotunda. The round striated and furrowed flask wormshell. The colour whitish, transparent, and glossy. From Sandwich, Reculver, and Shepey: very rare. SERPULA RETORTA. Fig. 6. S. (retorta) rotunda marginata cervice curvatim exerto. The marginated retort wormshell. The colour white and opake. From Sandwich: not common. SERPULA INCURVATA. Fig. 7. S. recta anfractibus tribus contiguis regulariter involutis. The straight horn wormshell, with three close intorted spires at the tip. The colour white, semitransparent. From Sandwich: rare. This shell, though resembling the semilituus of Linnus, p. 1163, No. 280, is not of the genus of Nautilus, having neither syphon in the aperture, nor the internal concamerated structure. DENTALE. THE TOOTHSHELL. DENTALIUM IMPERFORATUM. Fig. 8. D. apice imperforata transverse striatum. The imperforated transversely striated toothshell. The colour white and opake. From Sandwich: not very common. PATELLA. THE LIMPET. PATELLA ROTA. Fig. 9. P. plana orbiculata margine regulariter dentato. The toothedwheel limpet. The colour white and opake. From Sandwich: extremely rare. HELIX. THE DEPRESSED SNAIL. HELIX CARINATA. Fig. 10. H. striata apertura compressa tribus anfractibus carinata. The striated subovalmouthed snail, of three spires and a sharp edge. The colour light brown pellucid. In a fresh water stream, near Faversham. HELIX SPINOSA. Fig. 11. H. subglobosa umbilicata ore subrotundo margine spinoso. The roundish mouth deeply umbelicated snail with a thorny margin. The colour brown pellucid. From Bysing Wood, near Faversham: exceeding rare. HELIX RETICULATA. Fig. 12. H. unici anfractus subumbilicata apertura rotunda marginata eleganter reticulata. The round mouthed reticulated single spired slightly subumbilicated snail. The colour white and pellucid. From Reculver: extremely rare. HELIX STRIATA. Fig. 13. H. striata apertura subovali anfractibus supradorsalibus. The oval mouthed striated snail with the spires reflected on the back. The colour greenish, white pellucid. From Sandwich: very rare. TURBO. THE PRODUCED SNAIL. TURBO RETICULATUS. Fig. 14. T. subumbilicatus quatuor anfractibus reticulatis apertura subrotunda. The slightly umbilicated turbo with four reticulated spires, and a roundish aperture. The colour white and pellucid. From Seasalter: very rare. TURBO EBURNEUS. Fig. 15. T. quinque anfractibus ventricosis apertura subrotunda. The five spired ventricose turbo with a roundish mouth. The colour white and opake. From Reculver: very rare. TURBO STRIGATUS. Fig. 16. T. tribus anfractibus primo strigis tribus transversis apertura subovata. The three spired turbo, the first spire with three transverse ridges and a suboval aperture. The colour opake white. From Seasalter: very rare. TURBO ALBIDUS. Fig. 17. T. turritus septem anfractibus strigatis apertura ovali. The taper turbo with seven ridged spires and an oval aperture. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: rare. TURBO CARINATULUS. Fig. 18. T. turritus carinatus septem anfractibus apertura coarctata marginata. The taper carinated turbo with seven spires and a contracted marginated aperture. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: very rare. TURBO CLATHRATULUS. Fig. 19. T. clathratus sex anfractibus apertura ovali marginata. The barred six spired turbo with an oval marginated aperture. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: exceeding rare. TURBO CRASSUS. Fig. 20. T. crassus clathratus quinque anfractibus apertura rotunda marginata. The thick barred turbo of five spires and a round marginated aperture. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: very rare. TURBO PUNCTATUS. Fig. 21. T. turritus perversus novem anfractibus punctatis apertura coarctata. The reversed taper turbo of nine dotted spires and straitened aperture. The colour lightbrown opake. From Sandwich: not common. TURBO SHEPEIANUS. Fig. 22. T. sex anfractibus reticulatis apertura ovali submarginata. The six spired reticulated turbo with an oval submarginated aperture. The colour semipellucid white. From Shepey island: very rare. TURBO SANDVICENSIS. Fig. 23. T. tribus anfractibus reticulatis apertura unidentata. The three spired elegantly reticulated turbo with a one toothed oval aperture. The colour pellucid white. From Sandwich: exceeding rare. TROCHUS. THE TOPSHELL. TROCHUS FUSCUS. Fig. 24. T. umbilicatus quinque anfractibus marginatus apertura subrotunda. The five spired umbilicated marginated topshell with a roundish aperture. The colour opake brown. From Sandwich: common. BUCCINUM. THE WHILK. BUCCINUM OBTUSULUM. Fig. 25. B. ampullaceum tribus anfractibus apertura ovali. The bellied whilk of three spires with an oval aperture. The colour opake white. From Faversham Creek: very rare. BUCCINUM LONGIUSCULUM. Fig. 26. B. turritum quinque anfractibus apertura ovali. The taper whilk of five spires with an oval aperture. The colour white semipellucid and glossy. In Faversham Creek only; but not uncommon there. VOLUTA. THE VOLUTE. VOLUTA ALBA. Fig. 27. V. alba opaca longitudinaliter striata. The white opake volute. From Sandwich and Shepey island: not uncommon. This shell resembles Mr. Pennants voluta Jonensis, but differs in the form of the aperture, as well as in the size. BULLA. THE DIPPER. BULLA REGULBIENSIS. Fig. 28. B. crassa apertura medio coarctata. The thick dipper, with a compressed aperture. The colour white and opake. From Reculver: very rare. NAUTILUS. THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. NAUTILUS BECCARII. Fig. 29. N. spiralis umbilicatus geniculis insculptis. The spiral umbilicated nautilus with deep joints. The colour, while the fish is alive, is a fine pellucid crimson; when dead, is white. It is found alive on the fucus vesiculosus, and is a very common shell on all the coast, and seems to be an universal litoral one, by the numbers found at Rimini, and in the sand of the South Seas. Lin. S. N. p. 1162, No. 276. Nautilus Beccarii. Planch. Tab. 1. Fig. 1. Gualtier, Tab. 19. Fig. H, H, I. NAUTILUS CRISPUS. Fig. 30. N. spiralis geniculis crenatis. The spiral nautilus with crenated joints. The colour opake white. The finest specimens are from Shepey: not uncommon. Lin. S. N. p. 1162, No. 275. crispus. Planch. T. 1. f. 2. Gualt. T. 19. f. A. D. NAUTILUS CALCAR. Fig. 31. N. spiralis apertura lineari geniculis elevatis. The spiral nautilus, with a narrow aperture and raised joints. The colour opake white. From Shepey island: not common. Lin. S. N. 1162, No. 274, calcar. Pl. T. 1. f. 3, 4. Gualt. T. 19. f. C. B. NAUTILUS LVIGATULUS. Fig. 32. N. spiralis geniculis lvibus. The spiral nautilus with smooth joints. The colour semipellucid, white and glossy. From Sandwich and Seasalter: not common. NAUTILUS DEPRESSULUS. Fig. 33. N. spiralis utrinque subumbilicatus geniculis depressis plurimis. The spiral subumbilicated nautilus, with many depressed joints. The colour opake white. From Reculver: very rare. NAUTILUS UMBILICATULUS. Fig. 34. N. spiralis umbilicatus geniculis sulcatis. The umbilicated spiral nautilus, with furrowed joints. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: not common. NAUTILUS CRASSULUS. Fig. 35. N. spiralis crassus utrinque umbilicatus geniculis lineatis. The thick spiral doubly umbilicated nautilus, with fine joints. The colour opake white. From Reculver: exceeding rare. NAUTILUS LOBATULUS. Fig. 36. N. spiralis lobatus anfractibus supra rotundatis subtus depressioribus. The spiral lobated nautilus, with the spires rounded on the upper side, and depressed on the under. The colour opake white. From Whitstable: not common. NAUTILUS CARINATULUS. Fig. 37. N. oblongus carinatus apertura lineari ovali. The oblong carinated nautilus, with a narrow oval aperture. The colour whitish, transparent like glass. From Seasalter and Sandwich: very rare. NAUTILUS SUBARCUATULUS. Fig. 38. N. subarcuatus geniculis exertis. The bending nautilus with raised joints. The colour opake brown. From Shepey island: very rare. MYTILUS. THE MUSCLE. MYTILUS PHASEOLUS. Fig. 39. M. lvis valvulis antice inflexis. The smooth muscle, with the valves inflected in front. The colour brown and glossy. From a fresh water stream near Faversham: common. MYTILUS PUNCTATULUS. Fig. 40. M. subrhombiformis punctatus. The subrombic dotted muscle. The colour pellucid white. From Sandwich: common. MYTILUS DISCORS. Fig. 41. M. discors areis tribus distinctis. The divided muscle. The colour opake brown. From Sandwich: not common. Lin. S. N. 1159, No. 261. Da Costa Br. Conch, p. 221. Tab. 17. f. 1. where it is exactly described, and as badly engraved. ANOMIA. THE SCALE. ANOMIA SQUAMULA. Fig.42. A. squamula. The scale anomia. The colour opake white and glossy. From Sandwich: not uncommon. Lin. S. N. 1151, No. 221. This shell is well described by Da Costa; but neither he, or Mr. Pennant, have caused it to be engraved. ARCA. THE ARC. ARCA MODIOLUS. Fig. 43. A. oblonga striata antice angulata. The oblong striated arc, with the foreside angulated. The colour opake white. From Sandwich: not uncommon. Lin. S. N. p. 1141, No. 171. Arca Modiolus. CARDIUM. THE COCKLE. CARDIUM MURICATULUM. Fig. 44. C. subcordatum antice muricatum. The heart cockle, with the front muricated. The colour opake white. From Shepey island: not uncommon. LEPAS. THE ACORNSHELL. LEPAS STRIGATULUS. Fig. 45. L. balanus striatus apertura obliqua. The striated acornshell, with an oblique aperture. The colour light brown. From Sandwich, on the roots of seaweeds, the finest specimens on lobsters: not uncommon. ECHINUS. THE SEAURCHIN. ECHINUS LOBATULUS. Fig. 46. E. subrotundus planus lobatus. The flat roundish lobated echinus. The colour opake white. From Reculver: rare. ASTERIAS. THE STARFISH. ASTERIAS TRIRADIATA. Fig. 47. A. triradiata lvis. The smooth threerayed starfish. The colour white, transparent as glass. On all the different shores that have been examined. Having thus described a few specimens of those pleasing microscopical objects, minute shells, I shall agreeably to the intimation given in the note to page 613, proceed to A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF A VARIETY OF VEGETABLE SEEDS.155 155 To the names as given by Dr. Parsons, those adopted by Linnus are here added. LITHOSPERMUM OFFICINALE. Plate XV. Fig. 1. Ibid. Linn. Gromwell. This seed is in figure exactly like a human heart without the auricles, but has no flat or depressed part on its sides; it is pretty circular round its thickest part, and terminates in a blunt cone. At the thickest extremity there is a circular roughness, which is the umbilicus, and from thence to the cone on the shortest side it is bisulcated longitudinally; so that the space between the sulci is a kind of ridge, nor do either sulci or ridge extend to either extremity of the seed; the rest of the surface is smooth and polished, the ground a light ashcolour, with a shade or cloud of yellow or brown. These seeds are very hard, and the ashcoloured shell is brittle like that of a hens egg; which being broken, appears to be lined with a light olivecoloured uniform membrane, which encloses a nucleus of a Spanish snuffcolour, pretty smooth, and of the same form with its shell, being in close contact with it all round. The natural size of a middling grain of this seed is about the eighth part of an inch long, and the ninth of an inch in diameter at the roundest part. CYMINUM. Fig. 2. Cuminum C. Linn. Cummin. This seed is double, though fixed side by side to one little stem; both which while together seem like one, and are ribbed in an uneven manner longitudinally, having great numbers of little threads or fibres sticking out all over them, which makes them look hoary. They are thick in the middle and run to a cone at each end. At the upper extremity there is an appearance like a bifurcation in the stilus, each of them belonging to its particular seed; this appears when the seeds are separated. These seeds are of a darkish strawcolour, the little threads or fibres being much lighter than the body of the seed. Each of these seeds contains in it a kernel of an olivecolour, and exactly in shape like a watermans boat, and of the same proportion, having a concave and convex side; the latter has a blunt ridge like the keel of a boat, and the former has a white line from one end to the other, which proves to be a ridge, to which the stilus that rises from the little stem of the seed, adheres to support it. When the seeds are together upon the stem their length is about the fifth part of an inch, and about an eighth part of an inch in the broadest part. PAPAVER ALBUM. Fig. 3. P. somniferum. Linn. Poppy. This is a little yellowish white seed exactly resembling in shape a sheeps kidney, having a yellow place about the hollow part, which is its umbilicus, analogous to the hollow part of the kidney into which the bloodvessels (emulgents) enter. If it be viewed on the back or convex part, concealing the hollow, it is exactly shaped like an egg, having one end somewhat rounder than the other. All over its surface it has superficial cells, formed by ridges that rise from the surface, which are some heptagons, some pentagons, but for the most part hexagons, though not precisely of equal sides; and the bottoms of these cells seem to be very porous. The seeds seem very light and springy, as a gentle blast of ones breath is capable of blowing them away, or a touch of any thing of making them roll a considerable way. As to their size, they are not above a twentyfourth part of an inch long, and about a thirtieth part broad or thick. CARDUUS BENEDICTUS. Fig. 4. Centaurea Benedicta. Linn. Blessed Thistle. The body of this seed is about twice as long as it is thick, is round and shaped much like a ninepin, only instead of being small at the upper end, it has a stricture, from whence arises a beautiful crown of ten angles or points, out of which come also ten arist or spicul like ivory, about the length of the body of the seed, running taper upward, and set round in an uniform manner. Within the circle of these long spikes there are ten more, which are but very short, and of the same colour and consistence with the others. When these are all plucked off, the vestiges of the circles they form appear in the upper surface of the crown; in the middle of which a little process arises, but very superficially. That part which appears circular is white, and the rest of this surface, of the corona, of the same colour with the rest of the body of the seed, which is a sort of an olivecolour. The body of the seed is of the sulcated kind, and looks exactly like a fluted pillar, and the surface shines as if varnished with some gummy substance. At the lower or small end of this seed, there is an opening reaching up above a third of the length of the body of the seed, which discovers a white root, shaped like a cone at the bottom, and rising thicker by degrees till it divides into three limbs; these run taper upwards, till they are lost in the parenchyma of the seed, which at the place of their entrance appears somewhat fungous, but is more compact and clammy through its substance. The length of the body is more than two eighths of an inch, and the arist exactly the same length. The corona is its umbilicus. PLANTAGO. Fig. 5. P. Major. Linn. Plantain. By the imperfect idea we have of this seed from its minuteness, it may seem like a flea, as any small speck would, if a little oblong; yet its form is not constant, that is, there are scarce two of them precisely alike, some being perfectly elliptical, some with blunt angles, and some approaching a spheroid. They have a whitish mark on one side, which is the umbilicus of the seed, from whence the first rudiments of the plant spring, and the surface is entirely granulated over, and has a general appearance like some kinds of plumbstones; the surface also shines a little, as if oiled or moist, and their colour is brown. One of the seeds cut transversely appears to have the shell or covering pretty strong in proportion to its size, which contains a parenchyma that is very porous and succulent. It is about a sixteenth part of an inch long, and a twentysecond broad. STAPHIS AGRIA. Fig. 6 and 7. Delphinum S. A. Linn. Stavesacre. The seeds of this plant are rough and angular, inclining to a triangle, although imperfectly so. They may be considered as having a basis or apex; the basis is thick and clumsy, and the apex runs to an angular point, which point is the umbilicus of the seed, out of which its first rudiments arise; it also has a convex and a plane or concave side; the former, Fig. 7, is rough, by reason of its being covered all over with porous cells, the ridges of which are also depressed or indented with rough pores, and granulated as if stuck full of sand. The concave surface, Fig. 6, is also rough, but not in the same manner, and so are the sides, which have a little flatness; these also are porous and sandy, and before the microscope, shine, and are coloured like dirty brown sugarcandy. The concave surface, notwithstanding the roughness, has one longitudinal ridge, and sometimes more, running from the basis to the apex, which has the same granulated surface with the rest. It contains a parenchyma, which is of a yellowish grey colour, and is moist and succulent. This seed is in its natural size about two eighths of an inch long from its basis to the apex, and near as broad; however, some are broader in proportion to their length than others, and they are one eighth of an inch thick. ANISUM. Fig. 8 and 9. Pimpinella A. Linn. Anise. Two of these seeds grow together upon one little stalk; when they are pulled asunder, they appear to have a flat and a convex surface. On the convex surface, Fig. 8, each seed has three ribs placed at equal distances from one another, which are porous and a little rough, being of a strawcolour; and the spaces between them are also rough and porous, but of an olivecolour. The flat surface, Fig. 9, has a white ridge running longitudinally from its basis to the apex in the middle; this white ridge or line serves to cling to the stilus, upon which it sticks. The stilus is also white, and has the same contexture with the ridge, and is bifid, in order to support two seeds with their flat sides together, which keeps them the more compact and less liable to injuries than if a single seed stuck on. It is certain, a single stilus would do as well to support two seeds as the bifid one, for even the two stick together as if single, if there was not a necessity for a double stilus, for a very important reason; which is, that when the seeds are ripe, they would stick on a single one, till the time of their being scattered about would pass, which would be a detriment to their propagation; but the stilus being double, and of a springy nature, the two parts are glued together, as long as moisture remains about the seeds capable of keeping them together; but when the seeds are grown ripe and dry, then this moisture is exhaled, and the stilus, as well as the flat surfaces of the seeds, begin to contract from their former plumpness; the stilus first begins to split asunder, and thereby separates the two surfaces of the seeds, each of which sticks loosely to its particular limb of the stilus; till at length the remaining moisture exhaling more and more, it grows rigid, and cracks with a blast of wind, and so the seed is scattered or sown in the ground in its due time. This is a most excellent provision of nature, and highly worth regard. When the two seeds are sticking together, they have a round end which is the basis, and grow smaller by degrees upward, till they become an apex, having upon each seed a kind of fungous or bulbous corona, which is the umbilicus of the seed; and the shape of the two together may be compared to that of a given fig reversed. The parenchyma of these seeds is that of a pale greenish olivecolour. They are more exactly of a size than most other seeds, and are each oneeighth part of an inch long, and more than half that breadth. FNICULUM DULCE. Fig. 10 and 11. Anethum F. Linn. Sweet Fennel. In viewing these seeds, they do not look much unlike one species of the cucumber in general, some of them being thicker and longer than others, and some straighter; but upon applying the microscope, the ridges appear high, and form deep furrows. Two of these seeds grow together upon the same little stalk, which is divided, like that of the anise seed, into a double or bifid stilus, in the same manner, and for the same reasons; when the two are pulled asunder, they appear to have a flat surface, Fig. 10, and a round and ridged one, Fig. 11. On the former, these characters are conspicuous: viz. 1. The whitish cortex or covering of the seed shews its edge distinctly. 2. Withinside this edge a white fungous substance appears running parallel to, and in close contact with it, on each side from end to end, being both together about onethird of the breadth of the seed; and between these, in the center, there appears a dark brown elliptical substance, which, upon separating the cortical and fungous coverings, appears to be a nucleus, whose internal substance is of an olive colour and something succulent. On the external surface there appears three high ridges, and when the flat faces of the seeds are close together upon the stilus, so as to seem but one, these three ridges on each seed and the two edges of each meeting firmly together, form eight regular ridges equally divided upon that round body that we have before said to resemble a cucumber. The extremity which is fixed to the stem is smaller than the other; the latter has a fungous kind of process arising from the body of the seed, which is the umbilicus of the seed. The ridges are of a light strawcolour, and the bottoms of the sulci they form are darkish. A middling seed is somewhat more than twoeighths of an inch long, and above half that breadth. GRANA PARADISI. Fig. 12 and 13. Amomum G. P. Linn. Grains of Paradise. These seeds are of an irregular form, but may be said to have a basis and apex; the basis is generally so flat as to render it capable of standing well upon it; the sides consist of several flats and angles, and the apex looks very much like the mouth of a purse drawn or gathered up close together. The body of the seed is of a reddish brown colour, the surface much granulated and rough; and the apex, which is its umbilicus, degenerates from this reddish brown colour into a yellow, appearing in little oblong ridges or plates. Upon making a transverse section of this seed, a most beautiful appearance presents itself; the external cortex is very thin, and retains the same colour through its substance with the outer surface; this incloses a black, porous, pitchy substance, which is much thicker than the cortex, in close contact with it, and at the angles of the seed is pretty considerable. Next to this the parenchyma appears, as white as the finest white salt, and radiated from the center outward; and in this transverse section seems to have a round hole in the center of one of the divided parts, and a process answerable to it in the other. If a longitudinal incision be made through the middle, the appearance will be as in Fig. 13, when the center of the white parenchyma appears exactly like a modern vinegar glass, commonly called a cruet, the bottom of which tends obliquely towards the basis, and the top towards the apex of the seed. The surface of this part looks polished, and the colour is a yellowish olive; nor does it look unlike a gummy or resinous body; however, we cannot be certain what its substance is, notwithstanding its great resemblance to that kind of matter. The white parenchyma is very singular, being almost divided into two lobes by this little cruet, whose top runs up into or is lost in a remarkable circular part, which has a rising towards the umbilicus of the seed in form of an acorn, and this rising stands in the open place, into which the pursy umbilicus leads. As to its natural dimensions, an ordinary seed is somewhat more than the eighth of an inch long, and about an eighth thick. PETROSELINUM. Fig. 14. Apium P. Linn. Common Parsley. The seeds of this garden parsley, being of the umbellated kind, grow two upon a little stem, whose bifid stilus supports them like the ammi or smallage; they are striated or ribbed like those, having three of such ribs on the convex part, spread further asunder, and being much more conspicuous than those of either of the seeds just mentioned. There is another rib which runs on each side of the seed, which is its lateral rib, and that which runs round the edge of the flat surface makes it resemble the edge or gunnel of a barge or lighter, to which each of these bears some resemblance. This seed is considerably larger than either, and much longer in proportion to their size; the colour of the interstices between the ribs is a dusky olive, and the ribs of an oaker yellow. They are pretty round where they rest on the stem, and run up elliptically to an apex, where there is a fungous corona, which is the umbilicus. In making a transverse section through the middle of one of them, the parenchyma appears of the same form with the cortex, having this remarkable property, that between the ridges or ribs are canals, formed of the cortex and the surface of the parenchyma, containing a brown balsamic fluid, with which they are filled from one end to the other of the seed; and in some seeds this balsam appears all round between the parenchyma and the cortex. This will be further explained when we come to speak of the seseli, in which this is so apparent, that a transverse view of that seed will serve for both. The parenchyma is somewhat succulent, and of a greyish olive colour. An ordinary seed is oneeighth of an inch long, and about a sixteenth thick. PETROSELINUM MACEDONICUM. Fig. 15 and 16. Bubon Macedonicum. Linn. Macedonian Parsley. These are long slender elliptical seeds, growing like the seeds of other umbelliferous plants, two together on the stem and bifid stilus; when they are pulled asunder they appear each to have a convex or back side, and a flat part or belly. The convex side, Fig. 15, may be said, from its roundness at one end, and smallness at the other, to have a basis and apex; the former is round, and after swelling a little towards the middle, runs taper upwards, till within onefifth of its length there arise two rough hairy processes, one on each side, like ears, and the rest runs to a point; so that the entire back surface is a near representation of a mouse lying flat. The colour of the body of this seed is a kind of olive, but the hoary fibres all over are of an ashcolour, and the stri or ridges much the same. The flat surface, Fig. 16, is of a brown colour and porous, having none of these fibres upon it; and is surrounded by an edge or ridge, like those on the back of the seed, which are also hoary. Upon this surface the bifid stilus is apparent, one extremity of which terminates at a hollow part, that may be likened to the under jaw of the mouse, between the roots of the ears; and the other stands loose, to which the fellowseed was also attached. The ridges are also hollow, like those of the garden parsley, and contain such a balsamic fluid as that; but this being so exceedingly slender, requires the greatest magnifier of the microscope for opake objects to discern it. This seed is about an eighth of an inch long, and about a twentieth broad. CORIANDRUM. Fig. 17, 18, and 19. C. sativum. Linn. Coriander. The seed of common coriander is spherical when entire, and may be said to have two poles; the lower, or that into which the stem is fixed, which forms a fungous hole, and the upper or little apex, as at Fig. 17, this is the umbilicus of the seed. From one of these poles to the other several ridges or stri run like the lines of longitude upon the globe, between which there are several roughnesses; they are of a yellowish oaker colour, and about the sixth of an inch in diameter, or something less. Each of these seeds, upon being bruised, divides into two hemispheres, Fig. 18, which discovers the edges of the rigid cortex, on the concave side there is a rising, and within it a lens, concave on one side and convex on the other, Fig. 19, as it is turned out of the cortex. On the concave side is a rising in the middle extending from one pole to the other, and on each side just below the apex, there is a white roundish fungous spot rising from the surface, from each of which runs downward a little curved a ridge, which appears to be resinous; and the surface is rough, and has a great many particles of resin also. SESELI. Fig. 20 to 24. S. Montanum. Linn. Longleaved Meadowsaxifrage. This seed stripped of its foliaceous wings may be compared to a sort of canoo which is too narrow in proportion to its great length, has a hollow and a convex side, like that kind of boat, and is ridged longitudinally on its convex side, Fig. 20, from end to end, with four principal ridges; and between these, with others less considerable. There are, however, some of these seeds wider than others in proportion, but the majority are too long for their breadth, as I have said before. These principal ridges are the support of the wings, and may be called their basis, for they rise broad from the body of the seed, and run out to a thin edge, which being continued constitute this leafy border. These are yellowish, and the spaces between them and the other less considerable ridges inclining to a brown. On the concave side, Fig. 21, there is an edge or gunnel like that of a boat, and a considerable cavity from the edge; in the center of which the vestige of the stilus, Fig. 22, which is also bifid here, appears from one end to the other. The edge and this vestige are also of a yellowish colour, but the rest of the surface brown and porous, and the whole body of the seed and ridges shine, as if varnished over with some oily substance. Fig. 23 is a view of the convex side of a seed divested of its wings, which is one of the most proportioned seeds I could pick out; at the upper extremity of which a little process may be perceived to turn or crook back upon the body; the same may also be discerned on that of Fig. 20. At the root of this process the opening or umbilicus of the seed lies. Among the many beauties with which this seed abounds, there is one that is most agreeably surprising, which (says our author) I discovered by making a transverse section of one of them, in order to see what its internal substance consisted of. I no sooner applied the cut surface, Fig. 24, to my microscope, than each of the principal ridges, which I said above is the basis of the leafy wing, appeared to be a triangular tube, containing a fine brown liquid balsam of the colour of brown basilicon. This was a high entertainment, as every other curious discovery that arises by the diligent inspection of the seed is, and prompted my examining others in the same manner; and I found such a balsam as this common to the several kinds of parsley seeds also, as well as to that of the bishops weed and smallage; although these are so minute, that I could not be sensible of it but with difficulty, and with one of my greatest magnifiers. There is also something analogous to this in the sweet fennel and finoki, not in tubes of the husks or cortex, but rather in spungy channels that sink into the surface of the parenchyma, between the ridges of these last. The length of an ordinary seed is onethird of an inch, the thickness about an eighth, and the breadth of each wing nearly equal to the thickness of the body. HYOSCYAMUS. Fig. 25. H. Niger. Linn. Common Henbane. After the calyx has split and cracked by drying, the seedpot comes to be exposed to the heat of the sun, which also grows dry, by which the lid or cover becomes loose, having no other visible attachment to keep it on the edge of the pot but its moisture, which in some measure helps to keep it there by agglutination, as well as by the squeezing or pressure of the segments of the calyx. But, this moisture exhaling, and the calyx splitting off, the lid, being now dry, blows off with the first blast of wind, and scatters the seeds, which by this time are hard and ripe. When the seeds are ripe they are of a light colour, like whitebrown paper, and incline to a triangular figure, whose angles are rounded off. They are depressed on both sides, so as to become pretty flat, and their whole surface is cellular; the cells have no particular form, but are somewhat irregular, and the ridges that form them are pretty eminent. As the drawing appears, the seeds may be said to have a basis and an apex; the former has no other particular mark than the cells, but the latter has a kind of notch indented downward from the top, which is the umbilicus of the seed. The parenchyma appears of a greyish colour. A middling grain is about a sixteenth of an inch long, and not quite so broad in the broadest part. CICER RUBRUM. Fig. 26 to 29. C. Arietinum. Linn. Chickpea. There is a good deal of reason for comparing the chiche grain to the head of a ram; for each of them, Fig. 26, consists of a round or back part, and an apex or snout. There are, besides this shape, which indeed favours the simile, several depressions upon the grain which add still to the likeness of that head; and these we shall consider in particular. On the upper or convex side there is, in most of them, a longitudinal little ridge, and a depression on each side, which resembles the rising in the frontal bone of a sheep; and, a little further forward, two risings, one on each side, which look like the superciliary eminences of the eyes. Each side of the round or occipital part has a depression that also adds to the same image; but what is yet a greater argument for it, is, that the under part, Fig. 27, is flattish, having an edge on each side, which may be compared to the edges of the under jaw. In the center of this flat part there is a little mamillary rising very remarkable, and just under the apex or snout an oval hole, whitish at the bottom, which is the umbilicus of the seed; besides which, there is an apparent sulcus on each side the apex, running a little way back, and is a close resemblance to the rictus oris. The husk is thin and fragile, and when taken off, looks like thin tortoiseshell; and the nucleus or parenchyma is of a yellowish white, exactly like the substance of a splitpea, without the covering. The entire nucleus has the same depressions which appear on its husk or cortex; and a fore view of it, Fig. 28, shews the naked apex, with the hole underneath, which is but superficial; and the seam which distinguishes the tip of the apex, I take to be the rudiment of the plant, for it is easily separated in that seam. The natural size of this seed appears, Fig. 29, being almost threeeighths of an inch from the apex to the outer edge of the basis, and something narrower. LAURUS. Fig. 30, 31, 32. L. nobilis. Linn. Bayberries. The bayberries, Fig. 30, are a fruit of an oval shape, sticking to a short stem not above a quarter of an inch long; the surface is generally black, but some of them, whether through age I cannot say, are crusted over with a dull ashcoloured scurfy matter, and sometimes with fine ragged membranes. When the husk is opened, it appears of a fine darkbrown colour on the inner surface, being a smooth thin membrane that lines the husk, and at the smaller end it suddenly grows yellowish, and looks like a brown cup with a yellow bottom. The nucleus easily comes out when the husk is opened, and as easily separates into two parts or lobes longitudinally; each of which is represented, Fig. 31. They lie in the husk with the flat surfaces together, each of which has a sinus at the smaller end shaped like the sole of ones shoe; one of these contains the little piece which has the rudiments of the tree, adhering closely to its sinus; the other is empty, and serves only to give room to these rudiments when the flat surfaces of both lobes are together: Fig. 32 represents that little piece taken out and viewed by a larger magnifier, and appears to be convex on the visible side; having in its outline much the same form with the cell or sinus which contained it. It has a ridge in a longitudinal direction, is smaller at one end than the other, has risings on the sides, and is a most entertaining object. FICOIDES AFRA. Fig. 33, 34. Mesembryanthemum Crystallinum. Linn. Diamond Figmarygold, or Iceplant.156 The whole stalks, leaves, and calix are covered with little glassy globules, which are called diamond or silver drops; and which are rather like ice than either. They are transparent, in as much as opposite windows of houses appear through them, and the green stalk makes those between it and the microscope look green. Those upon the stalks are spheroids, but those on the leaves and calix are globular. They seem like so many transparent stones set into a case, like those of a ring; others are more prominent. Upon breaking them, they appear to be little membranous bladders, very clear, and filled with an aqueous liquor. When they begin to wither and the juice to exhale, these membranes appear flaccid and collapsed. 156 Dr. Parsons having given the microscopical description of the flower as well as the seed of this plant, and each of them forming a very agreeable object, the figure and description of the flower is here introduced. Fig. 33 shews a flower of its natural size, with a bit of its stalk and a leaf; the leaf has its apex bent towards one side, is fat or thick, and has in its sinus the bud of another. The seedvessel is also fleshy, and the calix has but three leaves, which is an exception to the general rule mentioned above, each of which has its apex in the center, or nearly so, differing from those of the stalk. The flower is indeed polypetalous, having an infinite number of narrow little leaves crowded together, of a whitish faint purple, in some parts nearly white, but very inconsiderable. Fig. 34 is the seed, which is enlarged microscopically, having a streaky surface, and being of a triangular form. At one angle there is a dent or rictus, the end of which is the umbilicus of the seed. It is of a yellowish brown colour, and is very minute in its natural size, which is seen in those little specks near it. PALMA ARECIFERA. Fig. 35, 36, 37. Areca Catechu. Linn. Syst. Vegetab. Areca Nut. The areca nut grows in a husk like the walnut or nutmeg. Fig. 35 is that hard nut which we are now to describe. Its surface is a dark brown, striated promiscuously with a yellowish brown colour; its figure a cone, and is capable of standing firmly upon its basis. In the center of the basis there is the hole or vestige of its pedicle, or whatever other thing stuck to it whilst inveloped in its husk, round which the bottom is whitish. Fig. 36 is another species of the areca nut, at least in shape, being somewhat less, more squat, and having no cone. I cannot say, whether these different shaped cones might not be a variation of the fruit of the same tree, as apples or any other fruits often are; but the surfaces are not precisely alike in one respect only, their colour being the same, that is, the yellowish brown lines upon the surface of the latter are thicker together, and sink deeper into the cortex between the dark brown parts, which are consequently made more imminent thereby than those of the conical one. Upon cutting one of these into two parts, the surface appears at Fig. 37. On the outer part all round the internal substance appears radiated outward, being of a dark red and brown colour, and in its center inclosing a white substance, which in many places shoots itself out into the brown substance in little radii towards the cortex. JUNIPERUS. Fig. 38, 39. J. Communis. Linn. Juniper Berry. Fig. 38, a, is a juniper berry magnified to shew its marks the more plainly. This fruit is quite round, of a black colour, which, although it appears smooth, yet the covering appears porous, and resembles the surface of shagreen in some measure. At the top it has a triangular sulcus, which is not very deep, and in some it is superficial. At the other extremity the stem appears, which is rough near the place of its insertion, with a scaly covering for a little space. b, is a transverse section of a juniper berry, which shews the thickness of the pulpy substance of the fruit, which appears every where interspersed and mixed with a great quantity of fine yellow gum, that in many places is in lumps, especially about the ossicula or stones of the fruit. This parenchyma incloses three of these ossicula, lying in close contact together by their flatter sides, and with their apices meeting at the top. c, is the fruit of its natural size, some grains may be a little bigger, some a little less. Fig. 39 is the convex side of one of the stones, having from the apex three or four ridges, which render it triangular at the top, and are lost towards the basis, of an irregular form, long, narrow, and shining, after being cleansed of the pulp that covers them with the gummy matter just mentioned; but when dry, has an appearance like that of the stones of other fruit. Fig. 40 shews a longitudinal section of one of them, which brings to view a nucleus in all respects like that of a plumbstone, being cloathed with a membrane, and having a succulent parenchyma. a, is the stone in its natural size. SANTONICUM. Fig. 41, 42. Artemisia S. Linn. Wormseed. Fig. 41 shews the form of a middling seed enlarged by the microscope, for they are of different sizes among one another. This is one of the most singular in its structure, having scarce any thing substantial in it. The four little figures near it are those of a natural size, which are very small, and therefore renders the examination of them the more difficult. The seed has a small end or handle, being the place to which the stem which supports it was fixed, and the other end is bulky and round, having from the hoary handles several bulges all round, which are soft, and so very tender, that the rubbing of the seeds together reduces the surfaces to powder, whereby a large seed may be reduced to a very small one. The seed seems to be entirely composed of thin brittle membranes of an extreme delicate contexture, as at Fig. 42, having a dark center, from which it is transparent outward to the edge all round, and radiated upwards by infinitely fine radii, which do not render it in the least opake. Thus from the very outer surface the seed is composed of these sort of membranes, one after another, till nothing remains behind. Their colour before the naked eye is of a yellowish cast, but before the microscope for opake objects shines in many places like gold. SCABIOSA MAJOR VULGARIS. Fig. 43 to 46. S. Arvensis. Linn. Scabious. There is no seed perhaps which has more beauties than this of the scabious. Fig. 43 is a view of what botanists call one of the florets, which is a calix to the seed, whose fibres appear to extend themselves over its edges. This cup is of an octagonal form, and makes an appearance like a fine vase, having scallopped edges, and towards the inner part of the edge a whitish ruffled membrane. The ribs run down from its mouth, which is bellfashioned, and becoming narrower downward, form obtuse angles, by continuing from the bend to form the bottom of the vase. Between these ribs down the bend the vase is clear, though not quite transparent, and from thence to the bottom the ribs are hairy, and make an agreeable figure. Fig. 44 is the seed taken out of the vase, and drawn in another proportion, wherein appears first its thick body, which is somewhat hoary by the microscope, and runs up with a narrow neck, till it divides into five spiculated fibres, called by Gerard purple thrumbs, whose spicul or spines are determined upwards, and are thereby ready to cause the seed to recede from any thing that might injure it upon being touched. The bodies of the vases when first ripe are of a fine lemon yellow, but grow by long keeping darker; and the bason formed by the roots of the fine fibres is of a fine green, but the fibres themselves of a shining brown, like brown sugarcandy, as their spines are also. Fig. 45 represents the stalk to which the vases stick by their bottoms, all which, when together, form the head mentioned by botanists to be the characters of some species of the scabious. In this figure the body of the stalk appears all stuck full of narrow whitish leaves, and the round spots between their roots are the vestiges of the bottoms of the vases; so that the leaves and vases are mixed together all over the stalk. Fig. 46 shews a vase with a piece of its side cut out from the edge to the bottom. The bulbous part of the seed is contained in a delicate white membranous case, arising from the inner membrane of the bottom of the vase, and running up about half way the neck of the seed, embracing it pretty close, with a mouth consisting of six or eight sides as beautifully formed as that of any fine cutglass decanter. The seed is loose in this theca, so that it may be turned round within it, but cannot be pulled out without tearing this beautiful theca, upon account of its narrow neck. CHAP. XII. INSTRUCTIONS FOR COLLECTING AND PRESERVING INSECTSA COPIOUS LIST OF MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. BY THE EDITOR. Those who have been long accustomed to microscopical investigations will readily admit, that the numerous class of insects, and their several parts, afford some of the most diversified, as well as the most admirable objects for the microscope. To readers of this description, who should be considered as adepts, the following instructions may possibly afford little that is novel, as by constant habit they must be thoroughly conversant in the best manner of procuring and preserving the various objects; it may be, however, reasonably presumed, that there are many persons who have not hitherto devoted their attention to this subject, as well as numbers who, deterred by the imaginary difficulties attending it, have either totally relinquished the pursuit, or made but small progress therein; to such, the directions here given it is hoped will prove an acquisition. Confident as I am of the delights which this employment affords to the intelligent and industrious admirer of the works of nature, it is to be deplored that so many persons, who possess every requisite for these enjoyments, should remain totally insensible to their attractions; how much might be atchieved, could such be prevailed upon to devote their hours of leisure to so rational a purpose? especially if it be considered how easily these pleasures are to be attained, as well as the tranquillity with which they may be enjoyed. Investigations of this kind particularly recommend themselves to the attention of the ladies, as being congenial with that refinement of taste and sentiment, and that pure and placid consistency of conduct which so eminently distinguish and adorn those of this happy isle. To the honour of several ladies of eminence be it recorded, that they are proficients in the study of the various branches of natural history, and many others are making considerable progress in this pleasing science; than which, none can possess a greater tendency to sweeten the hours of solitude and anxiety. How infinitely superior to a rational mind is the gratification arising from such pursuits, to those, to which numbers unhappily sacrifice their health and beauty, and frequently the peace of mind of themselves and relatives, by a baneful attachment to the gaming table; and that not owing to intellectual incapacity, but merely from not possessing fortitude sufficient to prefer the improvement of their minds to amusements, for which no better plea can possibly be urged, than that of their being sanctioned by the idol, Fashion. Actuated by no other motives, than the sincerest respect I entertain for my fair countrywomen, and anxiety for their real welfare, I have presumed thus freely to deliver my sentiments; with greater confidence in the merits of the cause I plead, and reliance on their prudent discrimination, than on the persuasive eloquence of the advocate, I am willing to flatter myself that these remarks may not be entirely ineffectual; at least in warning those who have happily as yet escaped so dangerous a gulf. Again, how many of my own sex, divested of a taste for rational enjoyments, groan under the oppressive load of listlessness and dissatisfaction; for, independent of the more serious and requisite duties of our respective callings, we require amusements to refresh us in our vacant moments, which if not devoted to some laudable pursuit, will necessarily, like those of too many of our young men of fortune, be sauntered away, or consumed in senseless and illicit delights, eventually productive of infallible ruin to both body and mind; viewed in this light, it may indeed be said, that the situation of men of opulence is of all stations the least to be envied. I cannot, therefore, but earnestly recommend to those entrusted with that important charge, the education of youth, to enforce both by precept and example, their employment of that time which is not engaged in necessary avocations, to some purpose, that, whilst it amuses, may likewise instruct and improve their understandings. These measures are more peculiarly important in times like the present, when idleness, dissipation, and infidelity are with gigantic strides endeavouring to encompass mankind with chains of slavery of all others the most dreadful and pernicious. I shall close these observations in the elegant language of an admired writer. A man that has formed a habit of turning every new object to his entertainment, finds in the productions of nature an inexhaustible stock of materials upon which he can employ himself, without any temptations to envy or malevolence; faults, perhaps, seldom totally avoided by those whose judgment is much exercised upon the works of art. He has always a certain prospect of discovering new reasons for adoring the sovereign Author of the universe, and probable hopes of making some discovery of benefit to others, or profit to himself. There is no doubt but many vegetables and animals have qualities that might be of great use, to the knowledge of which there is not required much force of penetration or fatigue of study, but only frequent experiments and close attention. What is said by the chemists of their darling mercury, is, perhaps, true of every body through the whole creation, that, if a thousand lives should be spent upon it, all its properties would not be found out. Mankind must necessarily be diversified by various tastes, since life affords and requires such multitudes of employments, and a nation of naturalists is neither to be hoped or desired; but it is surely not improper to point out a fresh amusement to those who languish in health, and repine in plenty, for want of some source of diversion that may be less easily exhausted, and to inform the multitudes of both sexes, who are burthened with every new day, that there are many shews which they have not seen. He that enlarges his curiosity after the works of nature, demonstrably multiplies the inlets to happiness.157 157 Johnson. The characters by which the several classes of insects are distinguished, have been already explained in pages 218 and 219; their transformations have likewise been fully described; I shall now proceed to enumerate the best methods of obtaining them in their different states. Justice to the merits of two eminent naturalists158 obliges me to mention, that to them I am indebted for a considerable part of these instructions. 158 Lettsoms Naturalists Companion; Curtiss Instructions for Collecting and Preserving Insects. Both these tracts are now become very scarce. Of all the different classes or orders of insects, that called LEPIDOPTERA is not only one of the most numerous, but the most beautiful, with respect to the variety as well as richness of their colours; and, as from the peculiar delicacy of their structure, they require greater care to be used in catching, as well as in preserving them, it will be proper first to speak of, and be more particular in the directions concerning them. THE METHOD OF PROCURING MOTHS AND BUTTERFLIES. There are two methods of collecting insects of this kind; first, by breeding; secondly, by catching them in their fly state: of these, the former is by much the preferable mode; as, besides the pleasure which arises from observing the gradual progress of the insects from their egg or caterpillar to their perfect or fly state, they may be killed before they have sustained the smallest injury in the farina or meal of their wings by flying. The difficulty likewise in procuring the most beautiful and valuable insects of this class in their fly state, renders this method by far the most eligible. Most of the sphinges of Linnus, or, as they are usually called, hawkmoths, are but seldom met with in their fly state, and when seen on the wing, generally elude the swiftest pursuit; but in their caterpillar state they are frequently found, and easily taken. Thus the caterpillar of the sphinx atropos or jasmine hawkmoth, the largest and most beautiful species of moth this country produces,159 is often found feeding on the jasmine and potatoe, and sometimes on green elder; the sphinx elpenor or elephant hawkmoth, on the Galium palustre or white ladiesbedstraw; the sphinx ocellata or eyed hawkmoth, on the willow and appletrees; sphinx tili or lime hawkmoth, on the limetree; sphinx lagustri or privet hawkmoth, on the privet; phalna pavonia or emperormoth, on the briar, blackthorn, willow, c. and so of a great number of others. 159 Desirous as every collector must be of obtaining these moths, it is certain there are many persons still existing, who would consider it as a great calamity were one of them to fly into, or even approach their habitation; and so far from affording the pretty fugitive an asylum, would experience the highest satisfaction at his speedy departure. The reason, if it be not a prostitution of the term, is, that as the plumage on the back of this moth exhibits somewhat of the resemblance of a deaths head, these intelligent prognosticators (naturalists they cannot be called) are fully convinced that this harmless insect must be the harbinger of mortality, and that its appearance infallibly portends speedy death to some one of the family! Indeed, to weak minds, especially if previously debilitated by sickness, such an idea, if permitted to prey upon their spirits, may be productive of fatal consequences, and thus stamp a credit on the prophetic abilities of those sagacious observers of the mysteries of nature. To medical men, who are daily witnesses of the wonderful influence which the mind possesses over the body in a diseased state, such events do not appear at all surprizing. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING MOTHS, C. IN THEIR CATERPILLAR STATE. Independent of the method of collecting caterpillars by an attentive examination of the leaves, and other parts of plants, at those times of the year when they are in full verdure, there is another, viz. by beating the boughs of trees, particularly the taller ones, with long poles, having previously spread a large sheet underneath to receive them as they drop from the trees. By these means many very valuable caterpillars are frequently obtained, which could not otherwise be procured without considerable difficulty. Caterpillars should be handled as little as possible, particularly those with smooth skins; the more hairy ones in general sustain less injury by it. To convey them home with safety, the collector should be provided with a chip box in his pocket; and it would be proper to have it partly filled with fresh leaves. THE METHOD OF REARING OR BREEDING THEM. Having procured the caterpillars, our next endeavour must be to rear them. For this purpose; it will be indispensably necessary to afford them an ample supply of the plant on which they are found feeding, and to renew their food as often as the decay of that first procured for them may render it expedient. Insects in this state usually feed voraciously; the caterpillar of the papilio brassica has been known to consume in one day twice its own weight of food. Although many of them live on a variety of food, the greatest part are attached to some particular kind; deprived of which, some species would form objects less beautiful when arrived at their perfect state, and others infallibly perish. As to many it may prove very inconvenient to supply the caterpillars with fresh food daily, to avoid this trouble, several sprigs of the tree or plant may be put into a widemouthed glass filled with water, and the caterpillars placed on them. Most plants may in this manner be preserved fresh for three or four days. The glass, together with the caterpillars and their food, is to be placed in the breeding box represented in the figure annexed, a, shews an opening in the front covered with gauze; b, the door on the side; c, a ring for conveniency of carriage; and a constant supply of fresh food is to be given them, as soon as the former appears in the least withered. The breeding boxes should never be exposed to the scorching rays of the sun, but placed in a cool and shady situation; nor should they contain more than one kind of caterpillar, as some species devour others. Illustration When arrived at their full growth, the caterpillars leave off eating, and soon after, change into the chrysalis or pupa form; previous to which, butterflies spin a little web, just sufficient to suspend themselves by: many of the moths, like the silkworm, spin a large web, in which they inwrap themselves; and a great number penetrate into the earth, where they spin themselves cases, or change without any spinning, as do most of the sphinges or hawkmoths. It will therefore be necessary to cover the bottom of the box with fine mould to the depth of four or five inches, and keep it constantly moist. It frequently happens that caterpillars are what the aurelians call stung, that is, have the eggs of the ichneumonfly deposited in them, of which operation a full account has been given in pages 295298. Caterpillars, previous to their going into the chrysalis state, generally lose the brilliancy of their colours, and many of them rove about for some time. After remaining in their chrysalis state till near the time of their coming forth, such as are inclosed in a hard case or spinning, as the phalna vinula, puss moth; phalna quercus, great egger moth, c. are to be carefully freed from it; as the aperture which the insect naturally makes is often too narrow for it to pass through without sustaining considerable injury in its plumage. The opening will be best made, by cutting off the larger extremity of the case, taking especial care not to wound the inclosed pupa or chrysalis. The learned Dr. Bellardi, Foreign Member of the Linnean Society, c. a few years since discovered a new method of feeding silkworms, when they are hatched before the mulberrytrees have produced leaves, or when the tender branches are destroyed by frost: how far this practice may be successfully applied in other instances, seems as yet undetermined; though from some recent experiments, it appears possible that caterpillars may be thus fed in backward seasons. This method consists in giving the caterpillarthe dried leaves of their accustomed food reduced to powder, and gently moistened with water; a thin coating of which must be placed round the young worms, who will immediately begin to feed upon it. The Doctor informs us that the caterpillars of the silkworm prefer it to any other food, and devour it with the utmost avidity. The leaves should be gathered towards the close of the autumn, before the frost commences, in dry weather, and when the heat is greatest; they must be dried in the sun by spreading them upon large cloths, and after being reduced into powder, laid up in a dry place. Donovan says,160 that the experiment has been tried with several caterpillars which were nearly full fed on the leaves of thorns and oaks thus prepared, and that they were observed to eat it when no other food was given, but he cannot determine how far they may thrive if fed on that aliment only. 160 Treatise on the Management of Insects. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING THEM IN THEIR CHRYSALIS STATE. Butterflies and moths may often be found in chrysalis under the projection of garden walls, pales, outhouses, in summerhouses, c. and frequently affixed to the food on which the caterpillar fed. A great variety of moths in the pupa state may with more certainty be found, during the winter months, by digging under the trees on which they feed, particularly under the oak, willow, lime, and elm trees. When they are procured in this manner, they should be placed as soon as convenient in the breeding box before described, and kept covered with moist earth till the ensuing spring; when, as soon as the weather is mild, they may be dug up and placed somewhat nearer the surface of the mould, and in that manner left to come out of themselves. Should the collector not succeed in procuring chrysalides by this method, it will frequently happen that his labour will be amply recompensed by obtaining a variety of beetles. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING THEM IN THEIR FLY OR PERFECT STATE. Illustration The extreme delicacy of the wings of moths and butterflies will not admit of their being caught without injury, but in nets made of the finest materials. It will be necessary, therefore, that the collector should provide himself with a net properly adapted to this purpose: the one here represented has, after long experience, been found to answer extremely well. Fig. A shews the net expanded ready for use; a exhibits the part made of fine Scotch gauze, which should be previously dyed green; b b, the sticks; these should be of some light wood. To render them compact and convenient for carriage, they are made to take to pieces somewhat in the manner of fishingrods, and connected by means of screws or hollow brass ferrils fixed to the end of each: there are three of them for each side of the net. Fig. B shews one of the sticks; a, the brass ferril; b, the end of the next stick, which fixes tight into it; to the upper end of the sticks, at c, is joined in like manner a piece of cane bent to a proper shape. Instead of three pieces of wood, as here described, the other stick may consist of one entire piece, and be used as a walkingstick. The gauze must be edged with two pieces of binding sewed together, to receive the sticks when joined; and, as the sticks are taper, so must be the cavity to receive them. At the lower part the gauze is to be turned up about six inches, so as to form a bag, Fig. A, c. At the extremity of the gauze, next the handles, two pieces of tape must be fixed on each side, d d, of sufficient length to pass through a hole bored in the stick, and then be tied in a loop, so as to prevent the gauze from sliding on the sticks. At the upper part of the net where the canes meet, e, the cavity should be closed by a few stitches, that the sticks may shut even together. The net may be about a yard in width when expanded, and the length of it a yard and an half: the size, however, may be varied at pleasure. The gauze should be deprived of its glazing by being soaked for a short time in warm water; but, if dyed green, which is usually the case, this will be unnecessary. The handles are to be held one in each hand, when the net is used.161 161 Though this net be principally intended for catching moths and butterflies on the wing, it maybe usefully applied to another purpose: if one person expand the net under a bush or branch intended for examination, and another shake the bush, or beat it well with a stick, numbers of caterpillars, as well as some of the minuter kinds of coleopterous, and other insects, will fall into the net. By these means moths are likewise often taken, as they remain in a torpid state during the day, sheltered in the bushes. Illustration Besides the gauze net for catching butterflies, c., the collector should be provided with a pair of forceps, made of steel, about nine or ten inches in length, and of the shape represented in the figure;162 the fans are to be covered with fine green gauze. This instrument will in many instances be found exceedingly commodious, as being of more general use; it is very portable, and possesses this advantage over the net, that the insect caught in it will be more confined, and consequently not so liable to injure its down. If the insect be met with on the trunk of a tree, paling, or any flat surface, it may be readily caught; if on a leaf, both may be enclosed in the forceps. Whilst in the forceps, it should be pressed with the thumb, or, if the creature be small, with the thumbnail, sufficient to stupify, but not crush it. 162 This figure shews the forceps in the proportions in which they have been generally made; I would, however, recommend the fans to be considerably larger, and the handles shorter. The form of the fans has commonly been either hexagonal, or, the worst of all, triangular; experience has taught me that the shape as here given is to be preferred, as being less liable to miss the insects, who are usually upon their guard, and frequently elude the vigilance of their pursuers. A front view of the fans is given, the better to shew their form; but it is obvious that they must be placed in a contrary direction, so as to flap on, not slide over, each other. The next articles necessary to be provided, will be two or three oval chip boxes, cut sufficiently flat for the pocket, and lined at top and bottom with thin cork; and a cushion well stored with pins of various sizes. The collector being now furnished with the necessary instruments, it will be proper to give him such instructions as may enable him to use them. With regard to the manner of using the net with expertness and success, this knowledge will be much better acquired by practice than by the most ample description. Harris, in his elegant work, The Aurelian, has been rather diffusive than clear on this subject. Having caught the butterfly or moth in the net, it will be necessary to proceed with caution, as on killing it properly its beauty in a great measure depends. It should not be laid hold of indiscriminately in any part; but by managing skilfully the net, its wings must, if possible, be brought into an erect position or close together; then press the under part of the thorax or breast between the thumb and the forefinger sufficiently hard to kill the insect. By carefully attending to these directions, the wings will not be distorted or the plumage injured. The net being now opened, the insect is to be laid hold of by one of its antenn or horns, and again placed between the thumb and forefinger; in which situation it is to be held, while a pin proportioned to its size is stuck through the upper part of the thorax or back; it may then be affixed to the pocketbox by sticking the point of the pin into the cork lining. The larger kinds of these insects, especially moths and hawkmoths, which are far more tenacious of life than butterflies, will not expire so readily by this method, as by fixing them upon the bottom of a cork exactly fitted to the mouth of a bottle into which a little sulphur has been put; by gradually heating the bottle till an exhalation of the sulphur takes place, the insect usually dies without injuring its colour or plumage. THE METHOD OF MANAGING THEM IN THEIR FLY STATE. Though by the means just described these insects may be caught uninjured, some farther care is requisite in order to make them appear to advantage; this is called setting them, and is performed in the following manner. The insect being stuck through with a pin of a proper size, is to be placed before its wings are become stiff, on a piece of cork, having a smooth surface and covered with white paper. The body of the fly should not be made to touch the cork when the insect is affixed to it, but to stand up some little distance from it, as only the edges of both wings are intended to touch, not the wings to lie flat on the cork. The wings are then to be expanded, as in the figure, with a fine needle, or some sharppointed instrument. The instruments used in the operation for the eye called couching, being fixed to taper handles, are peculiarly commodious for this purpose. Illustration The upper edges of the superior wings are to be placed in a line with the head of the insect, and they are to be kept in this situation by means of little braces, formed of cardpaper and cut in the shape represented in the figure; a number of which should always be kept in readiness in a small box. These must be proportioned to the size of the wings, and fitted to their shape, by being more or less bent; by a proper attention to which, the spots, c. on both wings are rendered conspicuous, and the beauties of the insect exhibited in full perfection. To acquire the method, however, of setting them well, requires considerable practice and some ingenuity. After remaining in this position four or five days, or till the insect is become thoroughly stiff, the braces may be taken off, and the insect removed into the store box. The shape of the store box is immaterial; it should, however, be flat, and may be made either of wood, or, which is preferable, of tin. The inside should be lined with thin cork and covered with paper, and some slips of cloth glued to its edges to make it shut closer, and thus exclude as much as possible insects and animalcula; a little camphor tied in a bit of rag, and pinned to a corner of the box, will be found very useful to prevent their depredations. It is particularly to be observed, that there is a continual succession of insects as well as of plants; some appear with the early primrose, others accompany the lateflowering ivy: so that in this respect, the aurelian and entomologist may regulate their excursions by those of the botanist; the latter would in vain search for the ranunculus ficaria or pilewort, in the month of July, and the former be equally disappointed in seeking for the papilio cardamines, orangetip, in the month of August. Some of these insects continue longer in their fly state, and their plumage is less injured by flying, than others; some continue for a few days only; others, several weeks. In general, moths and butterflies, unless they are caught the first day of their coming out of chrysalis, are of small value; hence arises the necessity of carefully watching those particulars, and of making frequent excursions in order to obtain them in the greatest perfection. Butterflies are to be caught on the wing only when the sun shines warm. They inhabit a variety of places; the greatest number of them frequent woods, and may be taken in or near them, as the papilio iris, purple emperor; papilio hyperantus, ringlet; and most, if not all the fritillaries. Some delight in meadows, as the papilio jurtina, meadow brown; galathea, marbled white; C. album, comma; rhamni, brimstone: and others frequent gardens, as the brassic and rap, large and small garden white; others, again, clover fields, corn fields, heaths, lanes, c. Many of those which frequent woods are taken with much greater facility in the morning, a few hours after sunrise; at which time they are found feeding on the flowers that grow by the sides of the woods; afterwards, when the sun shines with greater strength, they fly high, and with such rapidity, as not to be taken but with the utmost difficulty. Moths fly chiefly in the evening, a little after sunset. Like butterflies, they inhabit a variety of places, and are to be met with in the greatest plenty near woods; they may also be taken in great numbers in the daytime by beating the hedges, c. more particularly in the afternoon, as the least motion will then put them on the wing. They are likewise frequently met with in the daytime sticking to the bark of trees, on walls, and pales that surround gardens, c. and may be thus caught in great perfection. Some few, like the butterflies, fly in the middle of the day, when the sun shines warm, over the flowers of honeysuckles, and other plants with tubular flowers. Insects of this species seldom sit to feed, but continue vibrating on the wing while they thrust their tongue or proboscis into the flower. Geoffroy says that moths may be taken in great plenty by means of a candle or lanthorn carried into or near some wood, towards dark. Independent of the recommendation of authority so respectable, the wellknown propensity that moths have to fly towards, and even into candles, has induced some collectors to adopt this method with success; many of the most valuable caterpillars have also been thus obtained. THE METHODS OF COLLECTING INSECTS OF THE BEETLE KIND. By these are meant all such, as are included in Linnuss first order of insects, under the term COLEOPTERA; these have generally been called scarabi or beetles: some few of them have obtained distinct English names, as the chaffer, ladybird, earwig, c. and all have been divided by Linnus into genera and species. The insects of this, as well as the preceding and following order, may be found in their caterpillar or grub state, in which they often prove extremely destructive to the roots of plants; and may in like manner be brought to their perfect or fly state, regard being had to their different manner of feeding. The time and care, however, required for this purpose, is probably more than can be spared by the generality of collectors; the curious entomologist, possessed of both leisure and abilities to engage in the pursuit, will be enabled to establish with certainty the different genera of insects. These insects are generally collected in their fly state: some creep and fly in the daytime when the sun shines warm; others, like the moth, fly in the evening and the night only. Their habitations are exceedingly diversified: some are found in rotten and half decayed wood, and under the decayed bark of trees, as the lucanus cervus, flying stag, scarabus cylindricus, and many of the cerambyces; others, among the dung of various animals, particularly of horses, cows, and sheep, as the dermestes, leathereater; hister, mimic beetle; scarabus fimetarius, c. Many of them make holes under the dung three or four inches deep, it will therefore be necessary to have an iron spade to dig them out, when in search of this kind of insects; some reside in the bodies of animals that are become putrid, as the silpha vespillo, carrion beetle, hister, c. also in moist bones that have been gnawed by dogs, or other animals, on flowers having a fetid smell, and on several kinds of fungous substances; others may be found in the morning about the bottoms of perpendicular rocks and sandbanks, as the curculio, weevil; and brachus, sandbeetle. Great numbers are found on the leaves and stalks of plants, as the scarabus melolantha, chaffer; coccinella, ladybird; chrysomela, curculiones, c. others delight more particularly in the flowers of plants, as the scarabus auratus: some reside altogether in woods, as many of the cerambyces; some are found swimming on the surface of standing waters, as the gyrinus natator; others in ditches, ponds, c. as the dytisci; many may be caught in rivers, lakes, and standing pools, by means of a thread net with small meshes, in a round wire hoop fixed to the end of a long pole; some are discovered by the light which they emit, as the lampyris noctiluca, glowworm; and vast quantities are found on dry banks, sandbanks, sandpits, c. particularly when the sun shines warm; numbers may be found in houses, dark cellars, damp pits, caves, and subterraneous passages, as the tenebrio, stinking beetle; or on umbelliferous flowers and in timberyards. Multitudes live under stones, moss, rubbish, and creeks near the shores of lakes and rivers; these are found also in bogs, marshes, moist places, pits, and holes of the earth, on stems of trees, and in the evening they crawl plentifully along pathways after a shower of rain. Some may be discovered in the hollow stems of umbelliferous plants, as the forficula, earwig. These insects, as soon as caught, may with a pin of a proper size be stuck through the body, close to the suture that runs down the middle of the back, and then placed in the pocket box, taking care that they do not injure one another from being placed too close together. Or, if the collector be disposed to procure this class of insects, he will find it very convenient, and certainly much less cruel, to carry a number of small pillboxes in his pocket, in which the insects may be readily secured and kept till he return home, without their suffering any pain; they are then to be immersed in boiling water, that being a most expeditious mode of killing them, and far preferable to their immersion in spirits, in which many of them will live a considerable time;163 they may afterwards be stuck through in the manner abovementioned, being careful to make the pin pass a sufficient length through the body of the insect, and then placed on a piece of smooth cork. When they have remained in this situation two, three, or four days, or longer, according to their size, the legs, antenn, c. are to be extended with a pair of fine nippers or tweezers, and placed in a natural position; in which they will, if proper care be taken of them, always remain: particular caution should, however, be used not to place them in the store box or cabinet till perfectly dry, as otherwise they will be liable to be infested with animalcula, by which they will soon be destroyed. 163 The best method is to inclose them in a chip box, and kill them by exposing the box to the heat of a fire; this treatment will rather absorb than add to the superfluous juices of the insect, and greatly contribute to its preservation. Donovan. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING INSECTS CALLED HEMIPTERA. The genera contained in this order of insects are principally these: viz. blatta, the cockroach; mantis, camel cricket; gryllus, locust, grasshopper, cricket; cicada, flea locust; cimex or bug. The first of these, the cockroach, has been imported from warmer climates, where these insects are extremely numerous, and far more troublesome.164 They are found in the greatest plenty here in bakehouses, particularly in the night, their usual time of feeding; they likewise abound in cornmills, in ships, and in all places where meal is deposited. 164 In the island of Senegal they do incredible mischief; they gnaw linen, sheets, wood, paper, books, and, in short, whatever comes in their way; they attack even the aloes, the bitterness of which keeps off all other insects. Adansons Voyage, p. 296. All those of the next genus, mantis, are foreign; some of them are extremely remarkable and curious, and from their particular shape, as well as their colour, have been called walking leaves; they are found in meadows, on grass, and on the leaves of plants and trees. The grylli mostly reside in meadows and fields among the herbage; however formidable the mischief occasioned by the blatt may appear, it is trivial when compared with the ravages of the gryllus migratorius or locust.165 One species of this genus, the gryllus domesticus, resides in houses, particularly where there are ovens, and entertains the inhabitants with the chirping sound it emits. Most of the fulgor or lanthornflies are discoverable by the light which proceeds from them; these, like the mant, are foreign, and many of them equally curious. The cicad are found on trees and plants; the notonect and nep frequent rivers, lakes, and standing waters. There is scarce a person who has resided any time in a very populous place, but knows where to find one species of the next genus or cimex, viz. that distinguished by the name of cimex lectularius or bed bug.166 165 Adanson relates, that soon after his arrival in Senegal, he was a witness to the mischief done by locusts, that scourge so dreadful to hot climates! Towards eight oclock in the morning there suddenly arose a thick cloud that darkened the air, and obstructed the rays of the sun; the cause of which was soon found to be myriads of locusts, raised about twenty or thirty fathoms from the ground, and covering an extent of several leagues, upon which a shower of these insects fell, devouring while they rested themselves, and then resuming their flight. This cloud was brought by a very strong easterly wind; it was all the morning passing over the adjacent country, and it was supposed the same wind drove the locusts into the sea. They spread desolation wherever they came; after devouring the herbage, with the fruits and leaves of trees, they attacked even the buds and the very bark; they did not so much as spare the dry reeds with which the huts were thatched. Hasselquist in his Voyage to the Levant, says that the inhabitants of Asia sometimes take the field against locusts with all the apparatus of war. The bashaw of Tripoli in Syria some years ago raised 4000 soldiers against these insects, and ordered those to be hanged who refused to go. Amidst the numerous blessings our own favoured isle enjoys, what a happiness it is to be exempted from the ravages of these pernicious insects, as well as from the government of bashaws! In the year 1748 great numbers of the grylli migratorii were seen in London and its vicinity, but they were not productive of any mischief, and soon perished. 166 These unpleasant domestics were scarcely observed in England previous to the fire of London in the year 1666. It is conjectured that they were afterwards introduced with the limber imported for rebuilding the houses: allowing this to be the fact, posterity may console themselves with the inconveniences they sustain from this evil, by reflecting how much benefit they have derived in other respects from the unhappy catastrophe which produced it. These insects may be killed either with boiling water or a few drops of the etherial oil or spirit of turpentine. They are all of them to be stuck through the thorax or back, betwixt the shoulders; the wings of the grylli and some of the others are to be expanded, and kept so by the little braces, and their legs, antenn, c. placed in a natural situation. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING INSECTS CALLED NEUROPTERA. Those of this class, the fourth order of Linnus, are chiefly aquatic, residing in the waters as caterpillars, and flying about them in their perfect state. The principal genera are, the libellula, dragonfly; ephemera, mayfly; phryganea, springfly; hemerobius, and panorpa. The libellul are considered by the generality of people as containing in them something venomous; and from hence, in addition to the epithet, alone sufficiently tremendous, of dragonfly, have obtained the several names of adderspear, adderbolt, horsestinger, c. It must be confessed, that their shape, manner of flight, c. are such as might readily raise such an idea in the minds of the multitude, who but too often form their decisions from appearances only; but naturalists are unaccustomed to such hasty determinations, and they can safely advise the collector not to be misled by terrific words, nor intimidated from catching them, they being perfectly harmless, indeed more so than the gnats which constitute a part of their food. The butterfly net already described will be very convenient for catching insects of this order, particularly the libellul. They are all of them easily killed, either by pressure of the thorax, or with spirit of turpentine, spirit of wine, or the fumes of sulphur; the same means are to be used in setting them as in the hemiptera. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING INSECTS CALLED HYMENOPTERA. The remarks which have just been made on the libellul do not apply to insects of this order, the major part of them being armed with stings; some of which are, however, harmless, though others are venomous. The principal genera are, the tenthredo, sawfly; ichneumon, ichneumonfly; sphex, ichneumonwasp; vespa, wasp, hornet; apis, bee; formica, ant; sirex, and chrysis. The tenthredines are found on trees and flowers in their caterpillar state; they feed on the leaves of plants. The ichneumons are found in the same manner; in their caterpillar state, they live chiefly in the bodies of other insects, particularly in the caterpillars of the moths and butterflies, as has been already mentioned. The sphex resides principally in sandbanks, it is also caught on flowers, shrubs and fruits, and about hedges; this insect catches and kills others, which it buries in the sand, having previously deposited its eggs in them. Wasps, bees, and ants, are found on flowers and fruits, and almost on every sweet substance. The chrysis, of which many species are exceeding beautiful, is found flying about old walls, posts, sandbanks, c. in which it builds its nest. Wasps and bees are the only winged insects that have any great degree of poison in them, they should therefore be taken with the forceps before described, and handled cautiously on account of their stings, which are dangerous. Some, as the mytilla, naked bee, have stings, but no poison, and are to be found on the flowers of umbelliferous plants, when the sun shines hot in the middle of the day; at which time others, as the chrysis, c. are also to be met with: when caught, a pin is to be stuck through them whilst in the net. It is very difficult to kill these insects without injuring them in some respect; boiling water hurts their wings, and the fine hairs with which many of them are covered; spirits of wine or turpentine prove immediately fatal to some, whilst others are scarce affected by them; and letting them remain transfixed till they are dead, will probably be thought too cruel; it is said, that the best method hitherto practised, is to stick them through with a needle dipped in aqua fortis; the sphinges, and other large moths, are likewise killed in the same manner with the least injury: the reader will adopt either of these methods, or any other he may deem expedient. When dead, their wings are to be expanded, and kept in as natural a position as possible. THE METHOD OF COLLECTING INSECTS CALLED DIPTERA. This order contains various kinds of flies and gnats; the former abound in almost every place, but they are found more particularly on all kinds of plants and flowers, especially on the umbelliferous ones, about the tops of trees, little hills, c. Some of them fly about cattle of various kind, in the skins of which they deposit their eggs, as the oestrus bovis, c. These insects are easily killed by a few drops of spirit of turpentine: their wings are to be expanded so that their bodies may become apparent; a little brace should be placed underneath them, to prevent their bodies being too much incurvated in drying, which they are very apt to be. Many of these are most easily taken when they begin to feed; for, in the middle of the day they are so quick and active, that it is almost impossible to catch them. With regard to the last order of insects, distinguished by the term APTERA, they are so common, and the places they inhabit so generally known, that any information on the means of collecting them must be superfluous. Under this class are included spiders, scorpions, centipes, crabs, lobsters, c. c. Most of these require to be preserved in some kind of spirit; spirit of wine, proof spirit, or geneva, are to be preferred, on account of their pellucidness; though rum or brandy may, if no other spirit be at hand, answer the purpose of preserving, though not that of exhibiting them with equal advantage. Those of the genus cancer, after being well dried or carefully baked, may be conveniently preserved in store boxes, or properly arranged in a cabinet collection. The smaller kinds of insects in general, as well as those of the order aptera, are best disposed of between talcs in sliders; such, for instance, as the termes pulsatorium,167 the several podur, pediculi, pulices, acari, c. 167 According to Linnus, this is the minute insect which has been long known by the English name of the deathwatch, and described by a number of authors: Linnus thus notices it; frequens in domibus, invisum vestibus, herbariis, insectorum museis. Fmina horologii instar pulsatoria in ligneis festucis. Syst. Nat. p. 1015. No. 2. Geoffroy, however, says he is confident that it is not from this insect, but from the dermestes domesticus, (Syst. Nat. p. 563, No. 12,) which makes the circular holes in furniture, that the ticking noise proceeds. Hist. des Insectes, Tom. I. p. 111.  Tom. II. p. 602. Neither of these are larger than the pediculus humanus. Again, on the respectable authority of Dr. Shaw, we are assured, that the insect properly called the deathwatch is a coleopterous insect of the genus ptinus, Syst. Nat. p. 565. The Doctor says, it is chiefly in the advanced state of the spring that this alarming little insect commences its soundthe prevailing number of distinct strokes is from seven to nine or eleventhese are given in pretty quick succession, and are repeated at uncertain intervals; and in old houses, where the insects are numerous, may be heard almost every hour of the day, especially if the weather be warm. The sound exactly resembles that which may be made by beating moderately hard with the nail on a tableIt is about a quarter of an inch in length. This very able naturalist has distinguished the insect by the name of ptinus fatidicus, the beating ptinus, and supposes it to be the same with the dermestes tesselatus of Fabricius, and the ptinus pulsator of Gmelin. He also cautions us not to confound this insect, which is the real deathwatch of the vulgar, emphatically so called, with another insect, which makes a sound like the ticking of a watch, and which continues its sound for a long time without intermission: it belongs to a totally different tribe from the deathwatch, and is the termes pulsatorium of Linnaeus. Every one will agree with the Doctor in his remark, that, it is a very singular circumstance that an animal so common should not be more universally known. Nat. Misc. vol. iii. Whichsoever of the three above described is the real insect, it is well known, that for a series of years the dread of it has excited the most uneasy sensations in the minds of the weak and superstitious; an unhappy prejudice which exists even to the present hour, and cannot be totally eradicated by all the powers of reason and argument. Sir Thomas Brown long since observed, He that could extinguish the terrifying apprehensions hereof, might prevent the passions of the heart, and many cold sweats in grandmothers and nurses. Pseudodoxia Epidemica, Book ii. Chap. 7. With the feelings of these persons a wellknown satirist sports in the following lines: a wood worm That lies in old wood, like a hare in her form: With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch, And chambermaids christen this worm a DEATHWATCH: Because like a watch, it always cries click, Then woe be to those in the house who are sick; For sure as a gun, they will give up the ghost, If the maggot cries click, when it scratches the post. Swifts Invective against Wood. Another poet has also diverted himself with the same subject: The weathers bell Before the drooping flock told forth her knell. The solemn DEATHWATCH clickd the hour she died. Gays Pastoral Dirge. It is remarkable, that though the ignorant despise the minuter parts of creation, as too insignificant to engage their notice, and venture to deride those better informed for their attention to such TRIFLING subjects; yet are those the very persons on whom REAL TRIFLES make the strongest impressions, and by whose credulity an apparently insignificant creature has been MAGNIFIED, so as to become an object of considerable importance in the scale of beings; for, as our great dramatist says of the JEALOUS: Trifles light as air Are to the TIMID confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. As the collector will have frequent occasion for the use of cork, both to line his boxes with, and to set his insects on, the following directions how to prepare it for these purposes will be found useful. He may procure the cork in large pieces at any of the corkcutters; these must be cut into smaller ones, and, in order to make the cork flat, it is to be held before the fire till the heat thoroughly penetrate it; the cork is then to be immediately placed betwixt two smooth boards, and a very heavy weight laid on it; in which situation it must remain till cold. Thus flattened, it is to be rasped on both sides, with such a rasp as is used by the bakers; afterwards, with a finer one; and, lastly, with a pumicestone; by which it will be rendered perfectly smooth. If the cork be thick, and the purpose of it to line boxes, it may be sawed through the middle, and rasped as before directed. As, without a due attention to the state of the atmosphere, the collector may make many fruitless excursions, it will be proper to point out to him the kind of weather best adapted for the purpose of ensuring success. If the day prove fine, and the sun emit much warmth, insects are very brisk and lively; if, on the contrary, the weather should be cold or windy, it will be in vain to attempt catching them on the wing, as at such times insects in general take shelter within the herbage, and instead of flying upwards, which is usually the case when disturbed, they dart into the thickest underwood; or should they rise above the bushes, they are impetuously hurled by the current of the wind far beyond the reach of the net; and, were it otherwise, the collector would find the apparatus unmanageable. Harris says the garden white is as good a token for fine weather as may be; when these flies are out in the morning, it generally prognosticates a fine day. At daybreak many insects are on the wing; and most kinds are observed in hot weather to come forth after rain, to enjoy the humidity of the air; this is the best time for collecting, as their wings are less subject to stiffen before they can be set. The males of some, if not of every species of moths, and possibly of other insects, by a faculty to us incomprehensible, are able to discover the females, not only at a great distance, but in the most recluse situations. This circumstance has induced some collectors to endeavour to entrap such of the males as are not easily procured by any of the common methods: they enclose the female in a breeding box, and place it as near the usual haunts of the species as convenient; the males will generally be observed soon after fluttering on the box, and endeavouring to gain admission to the females. This artifice has been repeatedly practised with success on the fox and egger moths. Every species has its distinct time for appearance, which is seldom accelerated or retarded a few days, unless by the unusual mildness or inclemency of the season. If a brood of insects be discovered at a certain season of the year, a brood of the same species will be found precisely at, or near the same period of the year following, except by accident they should have been destroyed. Notwithstanding the observation holds good in general, it is a fact that some insects are very variable in this respect; for instance, the sphinx convolvuli, unicorn hawkmoth, and the papilio hyale, cloudedyellow butterfly, were common about London in the year 1781, but have been very scarce since that time, especially the former; the papilio cardui, painted lady, sometimes disappears for several years. The papilio antiopa, grand surprize or Camberwell beauty, was first discovered in the year 1748, in Coldarbour lane, Camberwell, and has occasionally disappeared for some years; a few seasons since several were taken in different parts of the kingdom; subsequent to which period, it is not known that even one specimen has been seen. It has been repeatedly ascertained, that, as with plants, so it is with insects, some kinds are confined to one particular spot of ground, and are not to be found in any other part of the same wood; consequently, the haunts being once discovered, the collector may be encouraged to expect meeting with some of the same species for several seasons successively. Minute moths are to be found in winter as well as summer. It would be scarcely credible, did not experience prove, that when the frost is so intense, as to entirely subvert the appearance and almost annihilate the existence of vegetable productions, within its influence myriads of these delicatelyformed creatures brave the inclement season, and exist securely within those habitations which they have the address to construct. A skilful entomologist may at this season in a few hours collect a number of the coleoptera, hemiptera, and lepidoptera orders; several of which are not to be obtained, but in very cold weather. These insects usually shelter themselves among the moss and other extraneous matters growing on the trunks or branches of trees, or beneath the rotten bark; these substances should be shut close in a box or tin canister, to prevent the escape of those insects that may be revived by the warmth. To examine them, Donovan recommends spreading a sheet of writing paper on a table, and placing a lamp or candle, with a shade of transparent or oiled paper before you, so as to weaken the glare; separate the moss, and shake it loosely in your hand, and you will perceive many insects fall down on the paper. If they be too minute to admit of a pin being thrust through the thorax, they may be fastened with gumwater to small slips of paper. GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR FITTING UP A CABINET. To those who delight in subjects of natural history, a good cabinet of insects is esteemed a valuable acquisition: if it be well constructed, and the several objects arranged with judgment, it certainly exhibits one of the most beautiful and admirable assemblages of objects in nature. Such, however, who are disposed to make a collection sufficiently extensive to form a complete one, will find it necessary to devote a great deal of time to the purpose, as well as to be endued with a considerable share of perseverance and ingenuity; those who are possessed of affluence will find it far less difficult to acquire one. The cabinet, to appear with that elegance which the subject deserves, should be of mahogany, well seasoned, and made by a good workman in such a manner that all the joints may fit with the greatest nicety; the form and size may be according to fancy, or the extent of the collection intended to be made. To form a cabinet sufficiently capacious to receive specimens of all the English insects hitherto discovered, those excepted which, as before observed, are better preserved in spirits or between sliders, I would recommend one on the following plan: The height may be about three feet four inches, the width two feet four inches, and the depth one foot four inches, inclosed with folding doors, and provided with a good lock. The inside to be partitioned down the middle, so as to admit of a range of twelve square drawers on each side; under these, two or three drawers may be fitted extending the whole width, to admit the larger kinds of insects, such as the sphinges, cancri, c. the sides and backs of all these drawers should be of cedar, and the fronts mahogany, with a brass ring or button to each. The cork with which their bottoms are lined, must be chosen as free from cracks as possible, and, after being washed several times with a solution of corrosive sublimate in spirit of wine, to destroy the animalcula, glued on to prevent its warping. The whole surface must be made perfectly smooth and level, and this, as well as the sides, covered with imperial paper carefully pasted on, and afterwards moistened with alumwater. The paper should be exactly ruled into squares proportioned to the size of the insects they are intended to contain; and the names of each order and genus affixed according to the system of Linnus. By way of embellishment, the edges may be lined all round the drawers with narrow slips of some kind of ornamental paper. The forepart of each drawer should have a thin partition to admit of a proper quantity of camphor, with a number of small airholes for the more ready diffusion of its effluvia to the insects contained in the drawer: the tops of these partitions must be closed with thin slips of wood laid on them and fitted with nicety, but not glued. To prevent the admission of dust and air, and exhibit the contents to advantage, the top of each drawer must be glazed with the finest glass, fitted into a frame of the same size as the drawer, made either to slide in a groove, or let in on a rabbet. Having proceeded thus far, it will be adviseable to let the cabinet be thoroughly aired, before any insects are deposited in it, and to be particularly careful that all the insects so deposited be as free as possible from moisture; if the cabinet be then constantly kept in a dry situation, the camphor occasionally renewed, and the air excluded, there is every reason to expect that the several insects may be for a long time preserved in a state of perfection. If, notwithstanding all these precautions, little dusty particles should appear on any of the insects, which is a certain sign of the presence of animalcula, they should be gently wiped with a hair pencil dipped in spirit of wine, or carefully removed into a chip box and placed on the side of a Bath stove for a short time; by these means, if early attended to, they will be sufficiently baked to prevent future injury. A strict adherence to the above particulars, enabled me to preserve the contents of the cabinet formerly in my possession, now the property of Sir John St. Aubyn, Bart. F. R.  L. S. for several years in the most perfect condition, though containing considerably above 2000 articles. Within the same space of time, to my certain knowledge, several valuable collections have been either totally destroyed, or very materially injured; as when once the depredations commence, the destruction proceeds with rapidity, if not speedily prevented. Those who are desirous of enriching their collection with the productions of other climes, will require a cabinet much more extensive, or, as the subject may be said to be inexhaustible, may devote several to exotic insects only. The collection made by Mr. Drury being, I believe, the most superb which has ever appeared in this kingdom, it may prove agreeable to many of my readers to give them a concise account of it. It is contained in five large cabinets, and consists of two divisions; first, those found in this country, and, secondly, those procured from various quarters of the globe. The English collection contains 2324 different insects, and the foreign one 5066; total, 7380: the latter comprises of coleoptera, 1716; hemiptera, 676; lepidoptera, 1739; neuroptera, 122; hymenoptera, 472; diptera, 312; aptera, 29. The whole of this magnificent collection is regularly arranged, according to the Linnean system, in 144 drawers. Some of the most beautiful objects in this collection are exhibited and fully described in a work published by Mr. Drury, in three vols. quarto, containing on 150 plates about 700 elegantly coloured specimens. The climate of Asia is particularly favourable to the production of numerous articles in the several branches of natural history unknown to, or not natives of Europe; especially those of the lepidoptera order of insects, numbers of which are remarkably large, and exhibit a variety of the most beautiful colours. This induces gentlemen, previous to their departure for India, to furnish themselves with cabinets at a considerable expense, anticipating the satisfaction they shall enjoy during their residence there, in arranging and depositing therein the several articles they purpose collecting, and entertaining their friends with a view of them. Besides this, they receive commissions from their European friends to collect and remit to them as many as they can, neither party conceiving that this would be attended with any considerable degree of trouble or inconvenience. It may, therefore, not be amiss to introduce here what the Rev. Mr. John, one of the Danish missionaries at Tranquebar, says on the subject.168 The rainy season is in the highest degree injurious to collections in every part of natural history, shells and minerals excepted. To obtain a permanent cabinet, if not impossible, is at least very difficult and expensive. Insects, unless carefully preserved in close cases, well secured from the accession of the smallest particle of air, are soon covered with mouldiness; nor are dried fish, stuffed birds, skins of animals, plants, c. exempted from this inconvenience; if not frequently exposed to the rays of the sun or dried in ovens, myriads of animalcula in a short time form a settlement and inevitably destroy them. All the cabinets received from Europe, lined in the accustomed manner with cork or deal, are here on this account totally useless, besides their being soon disjointed by the heat of the climate. Sail cloth, well pitched and extended on frames, is far better calculated to answer the purpose; a number of these may be placed one above another, at a convenient distance, and the whole supported on light feet: to render them more pleasant to the eye, the linen may be covered as most agreeable either with white or coloured paper. Even the echini, and the smaller marine plants, attract so much dampness as to lose their colours and spicul, and fall to pieces, especially if they have not for some time been previously soaked in fresh water, in order to deprive them of their saline particles. Stuffed birds, c. lose their feathers or hair, and the more soft and tender parts fall off. Consequently, if no ships go from hence during the month of October, but are detained till February, the major part of what I have collected for such of my friends in Europe who are admirers of the wonderful works of the Creator, will be lost to myself and them, besides subjecting me to the imputation of a want of attention and gratitude for favours previously received, than which nothing can be farther from my heart. 168 Neuere Geschichte der Missions Anstalten. 48 stck. Halle 1796. The above remarks, it is hoped, will afford some useful hints to gentlemen intending to visit India; as well as plead in justification of those who, unacquainted with the difficulty of preserving collections in so warm a climate, have previous to their departure precipitately made promises to their friends, which for want of being realized, have too frequently exposed them to unmerited censure. A COPIOUS LIST OF MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. In the introductory part to our authors list of objects in Chap. X. he very justly observes, that from the nature of the subject the list must be very imperfect, c. it is not with the vain idea of rendering that complete which he has left imperfect, and which indeed must ever remain so, that the following general list is introduced; but principally with the view of still farther assisting the tyro, and pointing out a variety of articles, that might not otherwise so readily occur to him. In most instances, I have mentioned where the objects may be sought for with a probability of success; to have described them would have exceeded my limits. The specimen here given, will convince the reader, that it would be no very difficult task, so to enlarge this list, as to constitute a volume; but, it is presumed, that in its present state it will be found sufficiently extensive, and of considerable utility. To those who are already conversant with the subject, it may prove acceptable as a kind of index to assist their memories; and to such as may be disposed to form a cabinet, it will serve the purposes of directing them in their choice of the principal objects, and exhibiting some idea of the manner in which they are to be arranged. I. ANIMALS, AND THEIR PARTS. THE HUMAN SPECIES, QUADRUPEDS, C. The human hair Horse hair Hogs bristles Mouse hair Smellers of cats, tygers, c. Cuticle, or scarf skin of the human body The skin itself Membrana adiposa Muscular fibres Nerves Arteries and veins Intestines or guts Lacteals Lympha ducts Lungs Liver Pancreas, c. Brain Eye, its coats, humours, c. Nose, its ossa spongiosa, c. Ear, its hair, wax, tympanum, c. Tongue, its fibres, nervous papill, c. Blood, its globules, circulation, c. Nails and hoofs in thin slices Bones, c. c. OBJECTS PECULIAR TO BIRDS. Feathers and their plumage Pith of ditto cut transversely Red combs and gills of cocks Scaly skin of the legs Web or membrane of waterfowl Fleshy fibres, particularly the gizzard Eggs, their beautiful teints Coloured iris of the eye in some, c. The breast bones and scapul of small birds; to which may be added, The membranaceous wings of the bat OBJECTS PECULIAR TO FISHES. Many of these exhibit most beautiful objects, from the elegant variety of the colours and teints of their skins and scales Their spines Fins Fleshy fibres Sperm or hard roe Teeth Brain Eye, its iris Lungs and other viscera Gills Circulation of the blood in the fins and tails of small fishes Shells of most kind of shellfish Fimbri or fringed extremities of shells, c. INSECTS. 1. Coleoptera. The entire insect if not too large The head Antenn Wings Elytra Legs, c. Scarabus auratus, rosechaffer; on flowers Dermestes domesticus, the deathwatch of Geoffroy Dermestes pulicaris, flea beetle; on flowers Ptinus pectinicornis; in old trunks of willows Ptinus fur; very destructive in cabinets Ptinus fatidicus (Shaw) deathwatch, see page 688. Gyrinus natator, waterflea Byrrhus scrophularia; on flowers Silpha pustulata; on trees Silpha aquatica Silpha pulicaria; frequently running on flowers Cassida viridis on verticillated plants and thistles Cassida nebulosa; on thistles Cassida nobilis Coccinella, 2 punctata; on alder and other trees Coccinella, 5 punct. in gardens Coccinella, 7 punct. ladycow or ladybird Coccinella, 9 punct. on trees Coccinella, 14 punct. Coccinella, 16 punct. Coccinella, 22 punct. Coccinella, 14 guttata; in woods Coccinella, 2 pustulata; on trees and flowers Chrysomela tanaceti; on tansy Chrysomela alni; on common alder Chrysomela betul; on birch trees Chrysomela polygoni; on grass Chrysomela polita; on willows Chrysomela populi; on poplar trees Chrysomela sanguinolenta; in woods Chrysomela hyoscyami; on henbane Chrysomela exsoleta; in gardens Chrysomela 12 punctata;  on Chrysomela asparagi;  asparagus Curculio cyaneus; on willows Curculio cerasi; on black cherry trees Curculio pruni; on cherry trees Curculio acridulus; on plants of the genus tetradynamia Curculio granarius, weevil Curculio dorsalis; on the lesser celandine Curculio pini; on Scotch fir Curculio lapathi; on docks, particularly water dock Curculio scaber; on nettles Curculio quercus; on leaves of oak Curculio viscari; on lychnis viscaria Curculio pericarpius; on figwort Curculio betul; on birch and alder Curculio beccabung; on veronica beccabunga Curculio alni; on leaves of alder Curculio fagi; on beech trees Curculio pomorum; on apple trees Curculio nucum; in hazel nuts Curculio scrophulari; on figwort Curculio tortrix; in the twisted leaves of poplars Curculio pyri; on pear trees Curculio argentatus; in gardens Cerambyx moschatus;169 on willows, roses, c. Lampyris noctiluca; glowworm Cantharis nea; on flowers Elater castaneus; on the bark of trees in woods Elater sanguineus; on the bark of trees Cicindela riparia;  on wet Cicindela aquatica;  sandy ground Dytiscus cinereus;  water Dytiscus sulcatus;  Carabus granulatus; in fields near London Carabus crepitans; under stones Carabus 6 punctatus; on sand near brooks Carabus 4 maculatus; on sandy banks of rivers Mordella aculeata; on flowers Staphylinus murinus; on horsedung Staphylinus riparius; on wet sand Staphylinus chrysomelinus; on sand and near walls Forficula auricularia, earwig Forficula minor, small ditto 169 I have caught great numbers of these on white rose trees and raspberry bushes, in the vicinity of London; their smell has to me always appeared approaching nearer to that of oil of rhodium than of musk. 2. Hemiptera. Parts to be viewed the same as the Coleoptera Blatta orientalis; in bakehouses and near chimnies Gryllotalpa, molecricket; chiefly under ground Gryllus domesticus, housecricket Gryllus campestris; under ground Gryllus grossus, common grasshopper Gryllus verrucivorus, great green grasshopper Cicada cornuta; on trees, c. Cicada spumaria, blackheaded froghopper, cuckowspit, or frothworm; in froth on sundry plants Cicada viridis; on water plants Cicada ulmi; on elms Cicada ros; on rose trees Notonecta glauca, common boatfly; swims on its back in smooth water Notonecta striata, brown boatfly; on water Notonecta minutissima, little boatfly; swims on its back Nepa cinerea, water scorpion; on water Nepa cimicoides; on water Nepa linearis; on stagnant water Cimex lectularius, bed bug Cimex scaraboides; on flowers in meadows Cimex corticalis; on trees Cimex betul; on birch trees Cimex filicis; on fern Cimex baccarum; on gooseberry bushes Cimex personatus; in houses Cimex hyoscyami, scarlet bug; on henbane Cimex umbratilis; on flowers Cimex striatus; in woods near Hampstead Cimex populi; in woods, particularly on the trunk of the poplar Cimex abietis; on Scotch fir Cimex lacustris; runs quick on still water Cimex stagnorum; on stagnant waters Aphis ribis, currant louse; on the bushes Aphis ulmi, elm Aphis sambuci, elder Aphis rumicis, dock Aphis aceos, sorrel Aphis lychnidis, campion Aphis ros, rose Aphis tili, lime Aphis brassic, cabbage Aphis sonchi, sow thistle Aphis cardui, thistle Aphis tanaceti, tansey Aphis absinthii, wormwood Aphis jace, knapeseed Aphis betul, birch Aphis fagi, beech Aphis quercus, oak; under the bark Aphis salicis, willow Aphis populi, poplar Aphis aceris, maple; on the leaves Aphis atriplicis; rolled up in the leaves of the grassleaved orach Chermes graminis; on grass Chermes pyri; on pear trees Chermes scorbi; on mountain ash Chermes urtic; on nettles Chermes alni; on common alder Chermes quercus; on leaves of oak Chermes abietes; on fir Chermes fraxini; on ash trees Coccus hesperidum, greenhouse bug; on orange trees Coccus betul; on the divarications of the branches of birch trees Coccus philarides; on canary grass Thrips junipera; on bark of old trees Thrips fasciata; on flowers Thrips physapus; on dandelion, c. p. 350. 3. Lepidoptera. Their wings, scales, and feathers, tongue or proboscis, head, eyes, antenn, chrysalides, eggs, legs, c. Papilio cardamines, orange tip; in hedge sides Papilio Io, peacock; in lanes and hedge sides Papilio Mra, great Argus or wall; on walls and banks Papilio galathea, white marbled; in meadow Papilio cardui, painted lady; on furzes and teazles Papilio Iris, purple emperor; in woods Papilio polychtoros, large tortoiseshell; in lanes Papilio urtic, small tortoiseshell; on banks Papilio maturna, heath fritillary; on heaths Papilio cinxia, glanville or plantain fritillary; meadows Papilio paphia, silver wash or great fritillary; in woods Papilio aglaja, dark green fritillary; in woods Papilio cuphrosyne, pearl border fritillary; in woods Papilio quercus, purple hair streak; in bushes Papilio rubi, bramble or green; in woods Papilio pamphilus, small gate keeper; in meadows Sphinx ocellata, eyed hawk moth; on willows Sphinx populi, poplar hawk moth; poplars and willows Sphinx tili, lime hawk moth; on lime tree bark Sphinx convolvuli, unicorn hawk moth; in fields where bindweed grows Sphinx ligustri, privet hawk moth; in privet hedges Sphinx atropos, jasmine hawk moth, beetyger, or death head; in potatoe fields Sphinx elpenor, elephant moth; on vines, convolvulus, c. Sphinx stellatarum, large bee moth, or humming bird; in gardens on flowers Sphinx filipendul, burnet moth; on grass in meadows Phalna pavonia, emperor; on osier grounds Phalna rubi, fox; near woods Phalna pini, pine lappet; on pines Phalna vinula, puss; on barks of trees Phalna neustria, lacky; thorns Phalna caja, great tyger; on banks Phalna villica, cream spot tyger; on banks which face the rising sun Phalna monacha, black arches; in woods Phalna salicis, white sattin; in willow bark Phalna zigzag, pebble; ibid. Phalna cossus, goat; p. 334 Phalna libatrix, furbelow Phalna jacob, cinnabar or pink underwing; commons Phalna pronuba, large yellow underwing; in gardens Phalna festuc, gold spot; in ditches near marshes Phalna psi, grey dagger; in bark of willows Phalna meticulosa, angled shades; on nettles Phalna aceris, sycamore tussock; near sycamores Phalna exsoleta, sword grass; in marshes Phalna oxyacanth, Ealings glory; in hedges at Ealing Phalna pisi, broom, or favourite; in meadows Phalna amataria, buff argus; in lanes Phalna syringaria, Richmond beauty; in hedges Phalna prunaria, orange; in lanes and hedges Phalna verticalis, mother of pearl; on nettles Phalna evonymella, small ermine; in orchards Phalna salicella, rose; gardens Phalna sarcitella; frequent in houses Phalna granella; in houses and granaries Phalna pomonella, codling or apple tree; in orchards Phalna didactyla, brownfeathered; among nettles Phalna pentadactyla, whitefeathered; in woods Phalna hexadactyla, manyfeathered; on the lonicera, c. 4. Neuroptera. Their wings, head, eyes, antenn,c. Libellula depressa Libellula nea Libellula grandis Libellula forcipata Libellula virgo Libellula puella Ephemera vulgata Ephemera vespertina Ephemera culiciformis Ephemera horaria Ephemera striata Phryganea bicaudata Phryganea nebulosa Phryganea striata Phryganea rhomboidica Phryganea flavilatera Phryganea nigra Phryganea longicornis Hemerobius perla, golden eye; on plants, page 206 Hemerobius chrysops Hemerobius sexpunctatus Hemerobius formicarum Panorpa communis; meadows 5. Hymenoptera. Wings, sting, proboscis, c. Cynips glecom; in tubercles on leaves of groundivy. Cynips quercus baccarum; in small tubercles on the under side of oak leaves Cynips quercus folii; in large tubercles on oak leaves Cynips quercus petioli; in tubercles on the petiolus of oak leaves Cynips quercus gemmae; in the large imbricated galls on the extreme buds of oak trees Tenthredo luta; on willow, alder, birch Tenthredo rustica; on willows Tenthredo scrophulari; on figwort Tenthredo ros; on rose trees Tenthredo cynosbati; on hips Tenthredo capr; on willows Ichneumon comitator; in wasps nests Ichneumon manifestator; woods Ichneumon puparum; in the chrysalides of butterflies Ichneumon aphidum; breeds in the bodies of aphides Ichneumon globatus; breeds in white silky balls about one inch long, which are found on different plants in meadows Ichneumon glomeratus; breeds in the caterpillar of the cabbage butterfly Ichneumon pectinicornis; in the chrysalides of butterflies Sphex viatica Sphex cribraria Chrysis ignita; in walls Vespa crabro, hornet; builds in hollow trees Vespa vulgaris, common wasp Vespa coarctata, small wasp Apis centuncularis; builds in old trees Apis rufa, small field bee Apis mellitica, common hive bee Apis manicata; on flowers Apis conica; builds on the ground Apis terrestris, humble bee; builds deep in the ground Apis subterranea, great humble bee Formica herculeana, horse ant, large Formica rufa; in gardens Formica fusca, brown, common ant Formica nigra, black Formica rubra, little red ant 6. Diptera. Oestrus bovis, breeze or gad fly, see page 294, note Oestrus hmorrhoidalis, see page 295, note Oestrus ovis, grey fly, see page 296, note Tipula crocata; in meadows Tipula lunata; ibid. Tipula cornicina; ibid. Tipula plumosa, sea tipula, resembles a gnat, and is frequently mistaken for it Tipula littoralis; on trees Tipula monilis; in meadows and on windows, c. Musca chamleon, p. 248 Musca morio; in gardens Musca pyrastri; ibid. Musca menthastri; flowers Musca pipiens; on mint, c. Musca inanis; on flowers Musca pellucens; on rose trees Musca csar; in woods and gardens Musca cadaverina; on flesh Musca vomitoria, blue flesh fly Musca carnaria, common flesh fly Musca domestica, common house fly Musca cellaris; frequently found dead in wine and vinegar Musca putris; breeds in cheese and dung Musca stercoraria; on dung Musca vibrans; on trees Musca flava; on flowers Musca solstitialis; on thistles Tabanus bovinus, great horse fly Tabanus pluvialis; in meadows Culex pipiens, common gnat, see page 187 note, 623 Culex bifurcatus; in watery places Culex pulicaris; in gardens in the spring Conops calcitrans, differs from the common fly, in having a sharp hard proboscis, with which it strikes our legs in autumn Conops macrocephala; in meadows Asilus craboniformis, hornet fly; in wet meadows Asilus forcipatus; in gardens Asilus morio; in wet woods Bombylius major, humble bee fly, sucks flowers without resting on them Bombylius medius; hovers in the air like a hawk, and darts with great celerity Bombylius minor; in Caen wood, near Hampstead Hippobosca equina; fastens on dogs and cattle Hippobosca hirundinis; in swallows nests 7. Aptera. Lepisma saccharina; in the joints of sash windows that are wet and seldom opened Podura viridis; on plants in April Podura plumbea; on trees, solitary Podura villosa; on stones Podura aquatica; numerous on the leaves of aquatic plants Termes pulsatorium, the deathwatch of Linnus, p. 688, note Pediculus humanus, common louse, see p. 619 Pediculus pubis, crab louse Pediculus bovis, cattle Pediculus vituli, ibid. Pediculus corvi, raven Pediculus gallin, capon Pediculus columb, pidgeon Pulex irritans; see page 616 Acarus reduvius, sheep louse or tick Acarus ricinus, dog tick Acarus passerinus; on many species of small birds Acarus aquaticus; on stagnant water, swims quick Acarus holosericeus, scarlet spider; on the ground and on plants Acarus coleoptratorum, beetletick; hundreds are found on the belly of a beetle Acarus longicornis; under stones, c. Phalangium opilio, longlegged spider Phalangium cancroides, scorpion tick; on garden pots, sometimes in houses Aranea cucurbitina; on fruit trees Aranea labyrinthica; in fields Aranea domestica, house spider Aranea redimita; in gardens Aranea senaculata, large; on walls, c. Aranea scenica, black; on old walls and windows; spins no web Aranea aquatica, pale brown Aranea viatica, resembles a crab, moves slow, c. Cancer pisum, pea, size of a pea; in mussels Cancer minutus, minute, smaller than the preceding; among sea weeds Cancer longicornis, long horned, size of the last Cancer platicheles, great clawed, size of a horse bean Cancer Bernardus, hermit; in the deserted shells of wilks, c. Cancer gammarus, lobster Cancer homarus; on the coast of Ireland Cancer astacus, crayfish Cancer serratus, prawn Cancer squilla, white shrimp Cancer crangon, shrimp Cancer linearis, linear shrimp Cancer atomos, atom shrimp Cancer locusta, locust; frequently skipping in summer on the sea shore Cancer mantis; Weymouth Cancer pulex, water flea; in rivulets Cancer salinus; in Lymington salt water Monoculus apis; in fish ponds and ditches Monoculus pulex, very minute; frequent and numerous in stagnant water Monoculus quadricornis Oniscus asilus, sea louse Oniscus entomon, sea woodlouse; on the coasts Oniscus aquaticus; in clear springs Oniscus asellus, millepes or wood louse; in old walls, c. Oniscus armadillo; under stones Julus terrestris, feet 200; under stones Julus sabulosus, feet 240 VERMES. 1. Intestina. Gordius aquaticus, like a horse hair; in water and clay Gordius lacustris; in the liver of the pike Ascaris vermicularis; at the bottom of lakes, and in the intestines of children and horses Ascaris lumbricoides; in the human intestines Lumbricus terrestris, earth worm; in the ground and in the human intestines Lumbricus marinus, sea worm Fasciola hepatica, gourd worm; in ditches, rivulets, and in the liver of sheep Fasciola intestinalis; in the intestines of fishes Fasciola barbata; in the intestines of the sepia loligo Sepunculus nudus; in the sea Hirundo medicinalis, common leech; in shallow waters Hirundo sanguisuga, horse leech; in fresh water Hirundo geometra; in fresh water Hirundo muricata, sea leech 2. Mollusca. Limax ater, black snail; in moist shady places Limax rufus, red; at the foot of mountains Limax maximus, large grey; in thick woods Limax agrestis, small grey; on cabbages Limax flavus, amber; on plants Doris argo, sea lemon Doris verrucosa; Aberdeen Doris elutrina; Anglesea Aphrodita acculeata, sea mouse; often found in the stomach of a cod Aphrodita squamata; Anglesea Aphrodita minuta; ibid. Nereis noctiluca, scarce visible to the naked eye; shines by night in the sea, so as to make the water appear on fire Nereis locustris; in clayey water Ascidia rustica; Scarborough Actinea sulcata; rocks of Cornwall and Anglesea Holothuria pentactes; in the deep Lernea cyprinacea; in fishponds, adhering to the sides of carp Lernea salmonea; adheres to the gills of salmon Lernea asellina; in the gills of cod, c. Sepia officinalis, ink or cuttlefish; in the sea Sepia sepiola; off Flintshire Medusa cruciata Medusa aurita, sea nettle Medusa capillata, sea lungs Asterias rubens, fivefingered star fish Asterias glacialis, common ditto Asterias oculata, dotted ditto Asterias minuta; Denbigh Asterias hastata; Cornwall Asterias nigra; ibid. Echius esculentus, sea hedgehog; on the coast, near Scarborough Echius spatagus, sea egg; on the Yorkshire coast 3. Testacca. Chiton crinitus, hairy chiton; Aberdeen Chiton marginatus; in the sea, at Scarborough Chiton levis, lock broom; West Ross, North Britain Lepas. Animal, triton Lepas balanus; adhering to rocks and shells Lepas balanoides, acorn fish; frequently adheres to oysters Lepas tintinabulum; on bottoms of ships Lepas anatifera, barnacle, see page 344 Pholas. Animal, ascidia Pholas dactylus, piddock; in stones, shines by night Pholas crispatus; frequent on the Yorkshire coast Solen. Animal, ascidia Solen siliqua; frequent on the shore near Scarborough Solen vagina; Anglesea Solen pellucidus; ibid. Solen legumen; ibid. Tellina. Animal, tethys Tellina cornea, size of a pea; in pools of fresh water Cardium Animal, tethys Cardium echinatum; on the Yorkshire coast Cardium edule, common cockle Mactra. Animal, tethys Mactra solida; on the Yorkshire coast Mactra lutraria; sea, at the mouth of rivers Donax. Animal, tethys Donax trunculus; on the coast near Scarborough Ostrea maxima, large scallop; on the Irish coast, and near Portland Ostrea obliterata, small scallop Ostrea edulis, common oyster Anomia truncata; in limestones Anomia crispa; in bluish limestone, in Craven, and other parts Anomia squamula; on oysters, crabs, and lobsters Anomia ephipium; adhering to oyster shells Mytilus. Animal, ascidia Mytilus rugosus; in limestone Mytilus edulis, common muscle Mytilus cygneus; in many lakes in the north Buccinum. Animal, limax Buccinum lapillus, larger English purple fish; on the shore Buccinum minimum, less than a pea Helix, snails. Animal, limax Helix lapicida; in woods in Lincolnshire Helix planorbis; in rivulets Helix cornea; in still rivers and pools Helix vivipera; ibid. Helix putris; in rivers and pools Serpula. Animal, terebella. Serpula spirorbis; adheres to sea weeds on the coast Sabella. Animal, nereis Sabella alviolata, English tubular sand coral; on the Yarmouth coast, and on Peington strand, Devon 4. Lithophyta. Coral, calcareous, fixed, built by animals Madrepora. Coral, with cavities, lamellosastellated. Animal, medusa Madrepora musicalis; on the Irish coast Millepora. Animal, hydra Millepora fascialis, stony foliaceous coralline; adhering to an oyster shell, on the coast of the Isle of Wight Cellepora, coral, submembranaceous, composed of round shells. Animal, hydra Cellepora pumicosa, appears in the microscope like a pumicestone; found on the sickle coralline, like white sand 5. Zoophyta. Gorgonia placomus, warted sea fan; on the Cornish coast Gorgonia anceps, sea willow Gorgonia flabellum, Venus fan Alcyonium. Florets, hydr, between the cortex; epidermis vesicular, porous Alcyonium digitatum, deadmans hand; frequently taken up by fishermen trawling for flat fish on the Kentish coast Alcyonium schlosseri; on the Cornish coast Alcyonium ficus, seafig; near Sheerness Spongia oculata, branched sponge; on the coast Spongia dicotoma, forked sponge; on the Cornish and Yorkshire coasts Spongia lacustris, creeping sponge; at the bottom of lakes in Westmoreland Spongia fluviatilis, river sponge; in the Thames, Cam, c. Flustra foliacea, broadleaved hornwrack; on the coast Tubularia indivisa, tubular coralline Tubularia ramosa, small rarified tubular coralline Tubularia fistulosa, bugle coralline Tubularia campanulata, creeping, extremely minute Corallina officinalis, coralline of the shops; fixed to rocks and shells, by stony joints Corallina rubens, crested or coxcomb coralline, like moss in round tufts, resembling a birds crest; the microscope shews the filaments to be dichotomous Corallina corniculata, white slenderjointed coralline; adheres to small fuci Sertularia rosacea, lilyflowering oralline; on oysters Sertularia pumila, seaoak coralline; about Sheerness Sertularia abietina, seafir; on oysters, muscles, c. Sertularia argentea, squirrels tail; on oysters in the Isle of Shepey Sertularia cornuta, very minutewith many others Vorticella, see page 396  seq. Hydra, see page 363  seq. Tnia solium; in the intestines of various animals Tnia vulgaris, common tapeworm; in the intestines of men and brutes Animalcula infusoria, see page 428  seq.170 170 Those who are desirous of seeing well delineated and elegantly coloured figures of a variety of curious objects among the insect class, particularly such as require investigation by the microscope, will be amply gratified by having recourse to Donovans History of British Insects. From the Naturalists Miscellany, by G. Shaw, M. D. F. R.  Vice Pres. L. S. numbers of beautiful subjects may likewise be selected. II. FOSSILS. Ketton or kettering stone Spar opake; in mines in Wales, Derbyshire, c. Spar refracting; in lead mines in Derbyshire, c. Spar diaphonous; in various parts of the kingdom Spar stalactitical, Knaresborough, c. Fluor transparent, diaphonous resembling emeralds, saphires, topazes, amethysts, c. METALS. Aurum nativum; said to be found in some rivers in North Britain Argentum mineralizatum; in small quantities in lead and copper ores Plumbum galena, lead glance; in various parts of England Plumbum stibiatum, antimonial lead ore Plumbum crystallinum, lead crystals Plumbum spatosum, lead spar Plumbum calciforme, lead ochre Plumbum nativum, native lead Cuprum nativum Cuprum cruleum montanum, mountain blue; in the mines of Derbyshire Cuprum viride montanum, mountain green; in copper mines of England, Ireland, and the Isle of Man Cuprum rubrum, glass copper ore; generally found with native copper Cuprum cinereum, grey copper ore Ferrum crystallinum, crystalline ore; Forest of Dean, Langron in Cumberland Ferrum crulescens, bluish ore Ferrum micaceum, glimmer SEMIMETALS. Vismutum ochra, flowers of bismuth Vismutum mineralizatum, bismuth ore Antimonium striatum, striated antimonial ore Antimonium rubrum, red antimonial ore PETREFACTIONS. Animals, or parts of animals, changed into a fossile substance Vermes. Helmintholithus ammonita, nautilus; in strata of earth and stones, on the seashore, c. Helmintholithus anomites; in great abundance, particularly at Sherborne in Gloucestershire Helmintholithus gryphites; in chalk hills, c. Helmintholithus judaicus; in many parts, particularly chalk pits in Kent Helmintholithus echinites; Surrey, Essex, Kent, Middlesex, in chalk and gravel pits Helmintholithus astrion, seastar; in chalk pits, c. Helmintholithus astroites, star stone; Gloucestershire, Norfolk, c. and many more. Vegetables. Phytolithus plant; grass, reeds, horsetail, c. found in the black slate called plate, immediately above the pit coal, in various parts of England. Phytolithus filices, ferns; ditto, Newcastle, c. Rhizolithus, roots of trees and plants buried in the earth Lithophyllum, leaves of trees; at Knaresborough, also impressed in stone Carpolithus, fruits, particularly impressions of the cones of pines, hazel, oak Fishes. Ichthyolithus siliquastra, fossile pods, often resembling half the pod of a lupine, c. sometimes extremely minute, at other times near two inches long. Ichthyolithus vertebra, of various genera, often in pits and quarries, particularly at Richmond in Surrey, on the cliffs of Shepey Island, c. Insects. Enthomolithus cancri, claws, or parts of claws; in pits in several parts of England Shrubs. Graptolithus dentrides, representing shrubs, plants, or moss; on various stones, slates, and flints, in many parts of England, c. III. VEGETABLES. Having thus enumerated a considerable variety of articles in the animal and fossile kingdoms, the only part which remains to be noticed is that of vegetables. To any person possessing but a superficial knowledge of botany, it must be obvious that this branch of natural history is extensive in the extreme; and that, consequently, to point out but a small number of such plants as form interesting objects for the microscope, would greatly extend this list, already sufficiently large; for, How incompetent is human effort to portray the beauties of this sublime subject! How inadequate the most descriptive talent to approximate to our view the vegetative profusion contained within the recess of nature! How limited have been our public researches! How contracted the knowledge which has been as yet obtained! What an incomprehensible store remains yet concealed, impenetrable to mortal view!171 171 Observations on the Structure and Economy of Plants, by R. Hooper, M. D., F. L. S. page 128. This work contains an ingenious display of the analogy which subsists between the animal and the vegetable kingdom. From a source so abundant, the botanist will be under no difficulty in selecting for himself; those who have not made the science a part of their studies, will be materially assisted by having recource to the elegant figures and their descriptions in the Botanical Magazine, by W. Curtis, F. L. S. the wellknown author of Flora Londinensis; and English Botany, by J. E. Smith, M. D. F. R.  Pres. L. S. published by Jas. Sowerby, F. L. S. I shall, therefore, just mention in general terms those parts of plants which are peculiarly adapted for microscopical investigation. These are as follow: The trunk, composed of Epidermis or cuticle Cortex or outer bark Liber or inner bark Alburnum Lignum or wood Medulla or pith The root cut transversely or longitudinally Leaves and their fibres The parts of fructification, consisting of The calyx or flower cup corolla or foliation, containing the leaves or petals, and the nectarium stamina or threads, their filaments and anthera or summit, and the pollen contained therein172 The pistillum or pointal, its germen, style, and stigma pericarpium, seed vessel, or germen grown to maturity semina, seeds and their parts receptaculum, the base on which the fructification is seated 172 The pollen or meal is a fine dust designed for the impregnation of the germen; a small quantity of this meal being put into hot water and applied to the microscope, will exhibit the bursting of the elastic covering of each grain; and the escape of the smaller atoms, which is the true farina. Of the various classes of plants, that called cryptogamia is eminently calculated for microscopical observation; comprizing the filices, the musci, the alg, and the fungi. On these subjects Hedwig has produced a valuable work, entitled Theoria Generationis et Fructificationis de Plantarum Cryptogamicarum, of which a new and much improved edition has just appeared, and to which for further information I refer the reader. A LIST OF MR. CUSTANCES VEGETABLE CUTTINGS, THAT USUALLY ACCOMPANY THE MOST COMPLETE SORT OF MICROSCOPES MADE BY MESSRS. W. AND S. JONES. English oak. Evergreen ditto. Norway oak. Ash. Cedar. Cork. Savin. Fir. Ceanothus. Hazel. Lime. Elm. Elm root. Mulberry ditto. Grape root. Lime ditto. Beech. Birch. Plum. Ivy. Spanish elder. American climber. Cissampelos. Virgins bower. Magnolia grandiflora. Gelderrose. Altha frutex. Tulip tree. Ash. Spanish chesnut. Platanus orientalis. Viburnum lantana. Oak root. Ash root. Asp root. Walnut ditto. Grape vine. Indian turpeth. China root. Jasmine. Dog rose. Raspberry. Barberry. Briar. Elder root. Ditto branch. Willow root. Ditto branch. Mulberry. Fig. Sycamore. Maple. American dogwood. Ptelea trifoliata. Ligneous nightshade. Sumach. Apricot. Medlar. Bay. Laurel. Sea weed. Longitudinal cutting of plane tree. Ditto of Spanish elder. Ditto of briar. Common cane. Ditto with curious center. Bamboo cane. Sarsaparilla. Longitudinal cuttings of sugar cane. Elder. Rose tree. Mugwort. Longitudinal slices of elder. Ditto grape vine. Transverse ditto. Dogwood. Plane tree. Beech. Grape vine. Spanish chesnut. Walnut. Fig. Ditto longitudinal. Asparagus. Artichoke. Thistle. Fennel. Parsley. Ditto root. Sunflower. Ditto root. Agrimony. Eryngo. Potatoe stalk. Centaurea. Indian reed. Ditto corn. Amaranthus. Bromelia pinguin. Campanula. Monkshood. Lavatera. Solidago. Mugwort. Chrysanthemum. Helianthus. Wormwood. Bulrush. Portugal reed. Burdock. Ditto. Wild mustard. Aloe flower stalk. Solomons seal. Tulip. Calamus aromaticus. Buckbean. Gourd. Melon. Crown imperial. Flowerdeluce. Pine apple. White lily. Asparagus. Ragwort. Water flag. Sugar cane. Stems of leaves of hogs fennel. Hemlock. Chesnut. Wild turnip. Stems of the leaves of red dock. Horseradish. Cabbage. Carrots. Roots of phytolacca. Teasel. Carrot. Fennel. Stingingnettle roots curiously variegated. Roots of parsley and wormwood variegated. Stalks of fern, with variations. N. B. Those marked with an  Mr. Custance conceives prove Dr. Hill in an error, when he observed, that the pith of a shoot is not connected with the pith of the branch. See his Construction of Timber, c. p. 103, 8vo edition. SALTS, AND VARIOUS CHEMICAL PREPARATIONS. SALTS. Salt ammoniac, crude Salt ammoniac, volatile Salt of amber Salt of Benjamin, commonly called flowers of Benjamin Salt of berberry Salt of buckthorn Salt of butchers broom Salt of carduus Salt of chamomile Salt of coral Salt of cucumber Salt, Epsom, so called Salt of fennel Salt gem Salt, glaubers, vitriolated natron Salt of hartshorn Salt of lavender Salt of lead, commonly called sugar of lead Salt of limons Salt of liquorice Salt of millepedes Salt of mugwort Salt of nitre, or salt petre Salt of Peruvian bark Salt polychrest Salt Rochelle Salt of tartar Salt of tartar vitriolated Salt of tobacco Salt of urine Salt of wood sorrel Salt of wormwood, and a great variety of others.173 173 To ascertain the true configurations of salts, particular attention should be paid to obtain them genuine; it may therefore be proper to apprize the reader, that some of those above enumerated are not easily procured in that state; consequently, though they exhibit pleasing figures, yet they may not be those of the real salt purposed to be investigated. Many hundred weights of some salts are annually manufactured, and sold under names very different from what they really are. Nor is this circumstance confined to salts only: for want of botanical knowledge, preparations of different plants have been frequently sold possessed of medical properties very different from those intended. A valuable medicine, the extract of Hemlock, for instance, instead of being prepared of the conium maculatum, has been made in large quantities of the chrophyllum sylvestre, and thus administered! On this unpleasant subject I could enlarge, were it not digressing from that before us. Whilst such evils exist, need we wonder if the physician as well as the patient are often disappointed in the beneficial effects expected from the adhibition of medicines? PREPARATIONS OF MERCURY. Acetated quicksilver Calcined ditto Calomel Muriat, commonly called corrosive sublimate Red nitrated, or red precipitate Sulphurated, or factitious cinnabar MISCELLANEOUS. Camphor Crystals (called cream) of tartar Iron, ammoniacal, or martial flowers Verdigrise, ditto distilled Vitriol, blue, or vitriolated copper Vitriol, green, or vitriolated Iron Vitriol, white, or vitriolated zinc, c. c. After having particularized so many of the works of NATURE, let us now pay some attention to those of ART. But what an humiliating contrast shall we meet with! If our design in viewing objects by the microscope be to discover beauty, harmony, and perfection, it will be necessary to limit our inquiries to the former, happily alone sufficiently abundant; if, on the contrary, we are desirous of discovering deformity and imperfection, we must confine ourselves to the latter. Even those works of art that appear to the unassisted eye as decisive proofs of consummate skill in the workman, and which excite our admiration for their apparent neatness and accuracy, when brought to this test, exhibit their real state; and, consequently, tend but to display the inferiority of the most finished performance of the ablest artist, when put in competition with the glorious productions of nature. The finest works of the loom and of the needle, if exhibited with the microscope, prove so rude and coarse, that were they to appear thus to the naked eye, so far from affording delight to our belles, would be rejected with disgust. But the more we inquire into the works of nature, the more fully are we satisfied of their divine origin: in a flower, for instance, we see how fibres too minute for the unassisted sight are composed of others still more minute, till the primordial threads or first principles are utterly indiscernible; whilst the whole substance presents a celestial radiance in its colouring, with a richness so superior to silver or gold, as if it were intended for the cloathing of an angel, and we have the highest authority for asserting, that the greatest monarch of the East in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. A very few specimens of art will, therefore, suffice. The edge of the sharpest razor or penknife Teeth of rasps and files Threads of the finest screws Finest engravings on gold, silver, copper, c. Coins, medals Seals, intaglios Best executed miniature paintings, prints, drawings, c. The finest laces, silks, and ribbons Smallest needles, pins, c. Woolen and linen cloth, plain or printed; camblets, bombazeens, c. A drop of ink on paper Paper, from the coarsest to the finest The writing of the ablest penman The finest specimens of the typographic art, c. c. An inspection of a few of the above articles only will clearly demonstrate, that as in the moral and political world, so in the works of art, perfection is unattainable by mortal man. With the fullest impression of which truth in the mind of the editor, and an appeal to the candour of his readers towards those imperfections which they may have discovered in this performance, he shall now conclude with, FINIS. ADDITIONS. The following is a new, useful, and ready method of making globules for microscopes, differing from the customary one described in page 8, and is extracted from Mr. W. Nicholsons scientifical Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts. No. 3, June 1, 1797. p. 134. The usual method has been to draw out a fine thread of the soft white glass called crystal, and to convert the extremity of this into a spherule by melting it at the flame of a candle. But this glass contains lead, which is disposed to become opake by partial reduction, unless the management be very carefully attended to. I find that the hard glass used for windows seldom fails to afford excellent spherules. This glass is of a clear bright green colour when seen edgeways. A thin piece was cut from the edge of a pane of glass less than onetenth of an inch broad. This was held perpendicularly by the upper end, and the flame of a candle was directed upon it by the blowpipe at the distance of about an inch from the lower end. The glass became soft, and the lower piece descended by its own weight to the distance of about two feet, where it remained suspended by a thin thread of glass about one fivehundredth of an inch in diameter. A part of this thread was applied endways to the lower blue part of the flame of the candle without the use of the blowpipe. The extremity immediately became whitehot, and formed a globule. The glass was then gradually and regularly thrust towards the flame, but never into it, until the globule was sufficiently large. A number of these were made, and being afterwards examined by viewing their focal images with a deeper magnifier, proved very bright, perfect, and round.      The opake solar microscope has been made by the late Mr. Martin of larger dimensions than described in page 106. The illuminating lens, at A B, Plate V. Fig. 1, and the breadth of the mirror were about four inches and an half, instead of three inches, which gives more than double the light of the former; and, consequently, all the larger sort of opake and transparent objects, to the size of one and an half or two inches in diameter, as well as diverting objects painted on glass, like the magic lanthorn sliders, are shewn with the greatest distinctness, and has by Mr. Martin been called the MEGALASCOPE of the apparatus. The same ingenious and learned artist applied a lattice of small squares about onetenth of an inch, each square made of fine wire, or lines drawn strongly on glass in a circle of one inch in diameter, and placed these in the compound body of a microscope or telescope, in the focus of the glasses next to the eye. And having a copperplate lattice of squares disposed into a circle, and to any size as may be wanted, the observer or artist may then with great facility make an exact drawing on the paper of the object observed. The same contrivance is applicable to the solar microscope. This he called the GRAPHICAL MICROSCOPE OR PERSPECTIVE. Page 127, line 24Any pocket telescope, the drawers of which are made to allow of a further extension than usual, may be used as a compound microscope for examining birds or insects alive, in a garden on the flowers, shrubberies, c. from a window near to the objects. There are few pocket achromatic telescopes or perspectives, but what will define and magnify objects from about six feet to any distance from the instrument. The magnifying power is inversely as the distance of the object from the telescope, and, consequently variable in an infinite degree; on which account Mr. Martin named it the POLYDYNAMIC MICROSCOPE. LIST OF THE PRICES AT WHICH THE MICROSCOPES AND APPARATUS ARE MADE AND SOLD BY MESSRS. JONES, HOLBORN, LONDON. Plate VIII. Fig. 8. A triple magnifier, tortoiseshell and silver 1 1 0  7. A ditto to combine, in tortoiseshell 0 8 0 VI. 14. A small pocket microscope for insects or flowers 0 7 6  1. Dr. Witherings pocket botanical microscope 0 15 0  2. Joness universal pocket microscope, according to the apparatus, from 1l. 6s. to 2 10 0 II. B. 1 and 2. Wilsons screwbarrel, or single microscope, 2l. 12s. 6d. to 3 13 6  3 and 4.  opake microscope, 2 2 0 VII. B. 3. Elliss aquatic microscope 2 12 6 VI. 3. Lyonets anatomical microscope 2 12 6 VII. A. 1, c. Cuffs double constructed microscope and apparatus, in a case 5 15 6 IV. 3. Culpepers compound microscope and apparatus, in a mahogany case 4 14 6  1. Joness improved universal ditto, and apparatus 6 6 0  2.  best and most improved ditto, with a greater variety of apparatus, packed in a mahogany case 10 10 0 Ditto, with the additions of a set of micrometers and vegetable cuttings 12 12 0 VI. 4, 5, c. Transparent solar microscope and apparatus in brass, in a mahogany case 5 15 6 V. 1, c. Opake and transparent solar microscope and apparatus, with objects, c. in ditto case 10 10 0 Ditto with additional apparatus for large objects, called a megalascope, c. 12l. 12s. to 16 16 0 III. 1, c. Lucernal microscope, as mounted by Adams, with apparatus, complete 20 0 0 IX. 3 and 4. Joness improved ditto, with or without rackwork to the stage, and other additions, from 12l. 12s. to 18 18 0  6. Lanthorn microscope 6 6 0 VIII. 3. Pocket achromatic 20inch telescope and microscope 3 13 6 IX. 1 and 2. Cutting engine for slices of vegetable objects 3 3 0 II. A. 10. Micrometers on pearl or glass, in sets, from 10s. 6d. to 2 2 0 Ivory sliders prepared for transparent objects, per dozen 0 12 0 Custances fine vegetable cuttings in large ivory sliders, from a set of six sliders to four dozen, per dozen 1 10 0 Bottles of salts for configurations, packed in mahogany portable cases, according to the number, from 2l. 2s. to 5 5 0 Magazines of microscopical apparatus, with collections of objects, fitted up to any extent and to order. INDEX. A. Abdomen of insects, 201 Activity of minute animals, 212, note 427 Adams improves lucernal microscope, 21    described, 64 Advantages of microscopes, whence derived, 45 pinus, his microscopic telescope, 3, 22 Agility of jerboa, note 212kanguroo, ibid. Air destroys and produces animation, 173 Anatomical microscope, Lyonets, 122 Angle of incidence, what, 32of refraction, ibid. Animalcula, a variety of diseases attributed to them, note 433  in teeth, their existence doubted, note 432  in infusions, to procure, 151  infusoria, history of, 415   erroneous opinion concerning them, 421refuted, 423   monas, 430proteus, 436volvox, 437enchelis, 443vibrio, 451cyclidium, 479paramcium, 482kolpoda, 484gonium, 489bursaria, 491cercaria, 492leucophra, 500trichoda, 507kerona, 530himantopus, 533vorticella, 536brachionus, 563additional, 570 Antenn of insects described, 190conjectures on their use, note 191, 192  their characters, 192 Ants, white, or termites, history of, 308 Aphides, their transformations, 260   generation, 274    experiments on by Bonnet, 274     by Richardson, 275 Apis or bee, its proboscis to dissect, 144  sting to dissect, ibid.  proboscis described, 181  generation of, 279 Apparatus to Cuffs microscope, 90  Adamss lucernal microscope, 77  Joness improved microscope, 96  most improved, 101additional, 102  Culpepers microscope, 105  Martins opake solar, 109 Aptera, order of insects, 220to collect, 687 Aquatic microscope by Ellis, 119 Aranea or spider, 621 Argands lamp describedthe management of, 69 Aristotle, polypes mentioned by, note 360 Athens, cruelty punished at, note 152 Augustine (St.) polypes not unknown to him, note 359 B. Baker, his method of viewing particles of blood, 149 Banks (Sir Jos.) his approbation of Walkers publication on shells, 630 Barbut, his remedy for sting of gnats, note 188  his opinion on sense of hearing in insects, note 217  on the brent goose, note 347 Barkers compound microscope, 17 Barnacle, or lepas anatifera, beard of, to prepare, 145 Bee, its proboscis to dissect, 144  sting, to dissect, ibid.  proboscis described, 181  generation of, 279Schirachs account of, 280Debraws ditto, 281  fecundity of, 290 Beetle, its transformations, 242  diamond, its transcendant beauty, 204 Beetles, to procure, 680 Blatta, cockroach, mischief occasioned by them, note 683 Blea of vegetables, to prepare, 162 Blood, its circulation and particles to examine, 148   in flounders, c., 149   in tails of eels, ibid. Boatfly, its wings, 143 Body of insects, 200 Bones, to examine, 146 Bonnet, theory of transformation of insects, 261  experiments on aphides, 274  on the interior structure of vegetables, 575 Botanical microscope by Withering, 123   pocket and universal, 124  magnifiers, 125 Box, breeding, figure of, 671 Brain of insects, to prepare, 146 Brass micrometer, by Coventry, 60 Breezefly, its proboscis to dissect, 144 Brentgoose, curious idea of its origin, 346, note 347 Buffon, his hypothesis, 421  refuted by Ellis, 423 Bug, bed, described, 618introduced after the fire of London, note 684 Butterfly net, figure of, 674 Butterflies, wings of, 144, 207  remarks on their substance, note 207  proboscis of, 186  and moths, to collect and preserve, 669  figure of the manner of setting them, 677 C. Cabinet, instructions for forming, 693  how to preserve insects in, 694  Drurys, short account of, 695 Cantharis, its value in medicine and commerce, note 175 Cast skin of insects, to prepare, 145 Caterpillars, habitations of, 325 Cavallo applies pearl micrometers to telescopes, 60 Change of insects to pupa state, 229to fly or perfect state, 236 Chrysalis, see pupa Chrysomela asparagi described, 353 Cimex striatus described, 352  lectularius, 618 Circulation of blood, to examine, 148  in eels, flounders, and gudgeons, 149 Clark, his account of British oestri, note 294 Cochineal, to prepare tincture of, 61  its beautiful dye, note 175 Compassion to animals formerly not regarded, note 177 Coleoptera order of insects, 219  to collect, 680 Configurations of salts, to prepare, 163   to view by the microscope, 166 Conjectures on the use of antenn, note 191, 192  on sense of hearing, and on sounds proceeding from insects, note 216 Construction of timber, 575 Cossus, caterpillar of, described, 334 Coventry, his glass, pearl, c. micrometers, 60     how used, ibid. Creation, wisdom of God in the, 167  providence in ditto, 174goodness, 175the effect it ought to produce, 176 Criteria, distinguishing, of insects, 216 Cruelty to animals, reflections on, 150, note, ibid. Cuff, his double constructed microscope described, 89apparatus to ditto, 90how to use, 91 Culex, its proboscis to dissect, 144  pipiens, its proboscis described, 187  its unpleasant effects, note, ibid.farther described, 623 Culpepers microscope, 104   apparatus to, 105   to use, ibid. Curculio imperialis, 204 Custance, list of his vegetable cuttings, 709 Cynips or gallfly, its transformation, 260 D. Deathhead moth, the harbinger of mortality!, note 669  watch of LinnusGeoffroyShawFabriciusGmelin, note 688the terror it occasions, note 689quotations from BrownSwiftGay and Shakspeare, ibid. Debraw, his account of bees, 281 De Geer, on the generation of a moth, 291 De la Hire first notices the stemmata of insects, 199 Dellebarres compound microscope, 16 Dermestes tesselatus, note 688 De Saussure, a writer on the interior structure of vegetables, 575 Diptera order of insects, 219    to collect, 687 Dissecting table, Lyonets, to use, 123   Musschenbroecks, 137  Swammerdams method of, 138  Lyonets ditto, 141  Hookes observations on, 142 Divinis compound microscope, 15 Dragonfly, eyes of, to dissect, 145 Drebell introduces the microscope into England, 2 Dronefly, eyes of, 196 Drury, his magnificent cabinet of insects, 695  illustrations of natural history, 696 Du Hamel writes on the interior structure of vegetables, 575 Dutch claim the invention of the microscope, 1 E. Earwig, its wings, 143, 205 Eels, scales of, to examine, 147  circulation of blood in, 148  paste, to procure, 152to preserve, ibid.described, 462  vinegar, 461fresh water, 468salt water, 469in blighted wheat, ibid. Elliss aquatic microscope, 6, 119  refutes Buffon, c., 423 Eggs of insects, 286tenthredohemerobius, ibid.phalna neustria, 287oestrus tarandi, 288ephemeraphryganealibellula, ibid.moths, 289beeswaspsspidersants, ibid. Elytra of insects, 204 Ephemera, eyes of, 197 Exuvia of insects, to prepare, 145 Eye, nature of vision in, 28 Eyes of insects, 193drone, 196silkworm, ibid.libellula, ibid.lobster, 197ephemera, ibid. F. Fat of insects, to prepare, 146 Fibres, muscular, to prepare, ibid. Fishes, their scales to examine, 147 Flea described, 616remarks on, note 617 Flies, to dissect eyes of, 145 Fly, Spanish, its utility, note 175  or perfect state of insects, 236  spider, see hippobosca equina Focus, what it is, 31 Fontana, an early maker of microscopes, 3 Food of polypes, 155  insects, 291gryllus migratorius, 293oestrus bovis, 294equihmorrhoidalisveterinusovis, note 294ichneumon fly, 295, note 297 Forceps for catching insects, figure of, 675 Forficula auricularia, its wings, 143farther described, 205 Frog, circulation of blood in, 150 G. Gay, quotation from, note 690 Generation of aphides, 273Bonnets experiments on ditto, 274Richardsons ditto, 275  bees, 279Schirachs account of, 280Debraws, 281 Gerard, author of the Herbal, his credulity, note 347 Globules, glass, applied to the microscope, 8manner of making them, ibid., 11by Butterfield, 9Di Torre, 10Gray, 12  lenses described, 34  micrometer, Coventrys, 60 Gnat, its proboscis to dissect, 144described, 187a formidable weapon, note ibid.Barbuts remedy for its sting, 188preventives recommended, ibid.mischiefs occasioned by them at Oxford, 623formidable in the West Indies, note 189Hooke an advocate for themremarks on ditto, ibid.  farther described, 623 Gray, his water microscope, 13 Greeks not unacquainted with the single microscope, 3spectacles known to them, ibid. Grew, on the interior structure of vegetables, 575 Gryllus migratorius, 293mischiefs occasioned by, note 684many seen in England, ibid. H. Habitation of insects, 299 Haddock, scale of, 356 Halteres of insects, 204 Hartsoeker applies glass globules to the microscope, 8 Heads of insects, 179 Hemerobius perla, its wings described, 206 Hemiptera order of insects, 219to collect, 683 Hewson, his method of viewing particles of blood, 149 Hieronymus, curious passage quoted from, note 178 Hill (Dr.) writes on the interior parts of vegetables, 575on the rind, 576vessels between rind and bark, 580bark, 582cellular tissue, 585vasa propria interiora, 586blea, ibid.wood, 587corona, 590pith, 592sap vessels, 594vasa propria intima, 595  (Mr. John) his improvement on the lucernal microscope, 84 Hippobosca equina survives the loss of its head, note 151its transformations, 261 Hogarth, his five stages of cruelty, note 152 Home, account of the particles of the blood, note 626 Hooke applied glass globules to the microscope, 8his compound microscope, 15observations on dissecting insects, 142pleads in justification of gnats, note 189computation on the eyes of silkworm, 196on the motion of butterflies wings, 209 Hooper, quotation from, 710 Hornet, to dissect sting of, 144 Humanity towards insects recommended, note 152 Hunters remarks on Schirach and Debraws experiments, note 285 Hydr or fresh water polypes, history of the discovery of, 357improperly called insects, note 363viridisfuscagrisea, 365their food, 373generation, 379reproduction, 382hydra pallens, 389hydatula, 390stentorea, 392socialis, 395 Hymenoptera order of insects, 219    to collect, 686 I. Jansens and son among the first introducers of the microscope, 2 Jerboa, its agility, note 212kanguroo, ibid. Jerom, curious passage from, note 178 Imperfections of microscopic glasses, 46 Improvements on lucernal microscope, 80  compound microscope, 92, 99 Infusions, animalcula in, to procure, 151  of pepper, c., 153 Insects, Lyonets table to dissect, 123  Musschenbroecks ditto, 137  wings to dissect, 143proboscis, 144eyes, 145exuvia, to prepare, 145muscular fibres, 146fat, ibid.brains, ibid.muscles, ibid.  their wonderful mechanism, 172  preferred by Swammerdam to other parts of the creation, ibid.  not included in divine omniscience, note 178  general description of, 178definition of, 179divisions, ibid.head, ibid.mouth, 180jaws, 181tongue and proboscis, ibid.proboscis of a bee, 182butterfly, 186gnat, 187tabanus, 188antenn, 190conjectures on their use, note 191, 192their characteristics, 193palpieyes, ibid.reticulated eyes, 195dronesilkwormlibellulaephemeraexperiments on the eyes, 197monoculus polyphemus, 198spider, 199stemmata, ibid.  trunk ofthoraxscutellumsternum, 200  abdomenspiracula, 201  limbswings, 201halterers, 204elytra and wings under ditto, 204wings of forficula auricularia, 205hemerobius perla, 206legs, 210tail and sting, 213  distinguishing criteria of, 215conjectures on their sense of hearing and the sounds proceeding from them, note 217Barbuts opinion, ibid.remarks on ditto, ibid.  classes or orders into which they are divided, 219  transformation of, 220egg to larva, 222change to pupa, 229preparation for change to perfect state, 234change to ditto, 236metamorphosis of silkworm, 240beetle, 242rhinoceros beetle, 245musca chamleon, 248libellula, 257cynips, 260aphides, ibid.hippobosca equina, 261Bonnets theory of, ibid.  respiration of, 265experiments on by Lyonet, 267Musschenbroeck, 268   in musca pendula, 269  generation ofaphides, 272Bonnets experiments on, 274Richardsons, 275Bees, 279Schirachs account of, 280Debraws ditto, 281eggs of insects, 286tenthredo, ibid.hemerobiusphalna neustriaoestrus tarandiephemeraphryganealibellulamothsbeeswaspsspiders ants, ibid.  fecundity of, 290Reaumurs calculation of that of the queen bee, ibid.Lyonets on the generation of a moth, 291De Geers, ibid.  food of, 291gryllus migratorius, 293oestrus bovis, 294equihmorrhoidalisveterinusovis, note 294ichneumon fly, note 295, 297  habitations of, 299spidersaquatic bugsgyrinuspodura libellulaephemeraphryganeaculicestipulnotonectanepa, 300julusscolopendraoniscus, 301formicaleo, note, 301solitary bees, 303ichneumon wasp, 306termites, 308caterpillars, 325  internal parts of, 334Lyonets account of the caterpillar of the cossus, ibid.musclesspinal marrow, 339tracheal arteries, 340corpus crassumoesophagusventricle, 342intestines, 343  to collect and preserve, 665the pursuit recommended, 666method of procuring lepidoptera, 668in their caterpillar state, 670manner of breeding them, 671figure of breeding box, ibid.to collect them in their chrysalis state, 673in their fly state, 674figure of the net, ibid.figure of forceps, 675to manage them in their fly state, with a figure, 677coleoptera, to collect, 680hemiptera, 683neuroptera, 685hymenoptera, 686diptera, 687aptera, ibid.proper time for collecting, 696instructions to form a cabinet, 693Drurys collection described, 695remarks on collecting Asiatic insects, 696 Instrument for cutting sections of wood, by Adams, 19Cumming, ibid.Custance, ibid.described, 127appendage to ditto, 128 Jones, improved lucernal microscope, 80lanthorn microscope, 88improved compound microscope, 92most improved, 99apparatus to ditto, 101additional, 102 Italians claim the invention of the microscope, 1 Ivory micrometer by Coventry, 60 K. Kanguroo, its agility, note 212 L. Lamp, Argands, described, 69   applied to lucernal microscope, 76 Lanthorn microscope, 88 Larva state of insects, 223 Leaves of trees and plants to examine, 147 Leeuwenhoeks single microscope, 7  description of blood vessels in eels, 149 Legs of insects, 210 Lenses, different kinds of, 34their properties, ibid. Lepas anatifera, beard of, to prepare, 145described, 344 Lepidoptera order of insects, 219   to procure and preserve, 668 Leucopsis dorsigera, 347 Libellula, eyes of, to dissect, 145  described, 195 Lice, polypes infested with them, 156  plant, see aphides Lieberkhn, single microscope used by him, 6  improves ditto, 20 Light, to manage for microscope, 134 Limbs of insects, 201 Linnus, his system commended, 168  classification of insects, 219 Lists of microscopic objects, 608, 698 Lizard, its skin to examine, 147 Lobster, eyes of, to dissect, 145  insect, 348first noticed in this country by Mr. J. Adams, 348described by Martintwo in Mr. Marshams possession, ibid.known to Aristotleto WolphiusScaligerDe GeerFabriciusfour in the editors possessiona living one presented to himtwo found alive in Percy streetRsels account of itSeba probably mistaken, note 350 Locusts, 293dreadful scourge, note 684  many seen in England in 1748, ibid. Louse, common, described, 619 Lumpsucker described, 352 Lyonet, single microscope used by him, 6  anatomical microscope, 122method of dissecting, 141experiments on the respiration of insects, 267generation of a moth, 290description of the caterpillar of the cossus, 334 M. Magnifiers, botanical, 125 Malpighi writes on the structure of vegetables, 575 Marsham on the ichneumon fly, note 297 Martin improves solar microscope, 20  list of his tracts on the microscope, note 21  applies slips of glass, c. to microscopes, 60  improved opake and transparent solar microscope, 106objects, 110 Medicines, their operations attributed to animalcula!, note 433 Medium, rare, 32dense, ibid. Meloe monoceros described, 354 Metamorphoses of insects, 220 Micrometer needle described, 54how used, 55  glass, pearl, c. by Coventry, 60how used, 61    a set accompanies Joness best microscope, 63 Microscope, date of its invention, 1name of inventor not known, ibid.its excellence, 2, 23early introduced by Jansens, 2one brought to England by Drebell, ibid.made by Fontana in 1616, 3to prepare vegetable substances for, 158  single, probably known to the Greeks and Romans, 3account of, 5rationale of, 40used by Leeuwenhoek, c., 6described, 7glass globules applied to, 8how made by Butterfield, 9Di Torre, 10to make glass globules, 11  water by Gray, 13extempore, ibid.  Swammerdams described, 138  single, Wilsons, or screw barrel, 115with a scroll and mirror, 117small, for opake objects, 118Elliss aquatic, 119Lyonets anatomical, 122Witherings botanical, 123pocket botanical and universal, 124  compound, by Hooke, Divinis, and Bonnani, 15Delebarre, 16Barker, 17Smith, ibid.   its principles, 42magnifying powers, 49experiments on ditto, 51how ascertained, 53of more general use than any other, note 89Cuffs described, ibid.apparatus to ditto, 90to use, 91chest, note 90Joness improved, 92apparatus to ditto, 96how to use, 98Joness most improved, 99apparatus, 101additional apparatus, 102how to use, 103Culpepers or three pillared, 104apparatus, 105to use, ibid.  lanthorn, 88  solar, by Lieberkhn, 17improved by him, 20by Ziehr, ibid.Martin, ibid.its principles, 45as improved by Martin described, 106apparatus to, 109to use, 110  lucernal, Adamss, 21described, 64to examine opake objects with, 71ansparent ditto, 74apparatus to, 77improvements on, by Jones, Prince and Hill, 80  portable, and telescope, 125  to prepare for observation, 130to prepare objects for, 137  concise list of objects for, 608opake, 609transparent, 614copious list of ditto, 698 Millepedes food for polypes, 155 Minerals, to examine, 148 Minute animals, their strength, activity, and vivacity, note 427  shells, arrangement and description of, 629 Monoculus Polyphemus, its eyes described, 198 Montaignes remarks on kindness to animals, note 151 Moths, wings of, 144, 207 Motion of butterflies wings, experiments on, by Hooke, 209remarks on, 212dittoby Reaumur, 213 Mouth of insects, 179 Mller on animalcula infusoria, 428 Mnchhausens hypothesis, 421   refuted by Ellis, 423 Musca chamleon, its transformation, 248pendula ditto, 256its respiration, 269 Muscles and fibres of insects, to prepare, 146 Musschenbroecks table for dissecting insects, 137  experiments on their respiration, 268 Musquetos, their sting formidable, note 189 N. Natural history, importance of, 167 Needham, his hypothesis of animalcula in infusions, 421refuted, 423 Needle micrometer, 54 Net, figure of butterfly, 674 Neuroptera order of insects, 219to collect, 685 Notonecta, its wings, 143 O. Objects to prepare for the microscope, 137   Swammerdams method, ibid.   Lyonets ditto, 141  for the microscope, concise list of, 608copious list of, 698 Observation, to prepare microscope for, 130 Observations, Hookes on dissecting, 142  on Hookes apology for gnats, note 189 Omniscience of God denied with respect to insects, c., note 177 Opake objects, to examine with the lucernal microscope, 71list of, 608 Opake and transparent solar microscope, by Martin, 106  small, microscope, 118 Optical glasses, their several kinds, 34different effects, ibid.their imperfections, 47 Orders into which insects are divided, 219 Ores and minerals to examine, 148 Oxfly, its proboscis described, 188 Oxford, swarms of gnats which appeared at note, 188the mischiefs they occasioned, ibid. P. Palpi of insects described, 193 Parrotfish, scale of, 355 Particles of blood to examine, 149   their true form ascertained, ibid. and note 626 Paste eel described, 462 Pearch, sea, scale of, 356 Pearl micrometer, Coventrys, 60 Pediculus humanus described, 619 Plancus on minute shells, 629 Plant lice, see aphides Plants, their leaves to examine, 147 Pocket botanical and universal microscope, 124 Polypes to procure and feed, 153infested with lice, 156to preserve in health, ibid.to observe with accuracy, 157to preserve in sliders, ibid.their food, 291 Pores of skin to examine, 147 Portable microscope and telescope, 125 Proboscis of insects, to dissect, 144culextabanusbee, ibid.described, 181bee, ibid.butterfly, 186gnat, 187tabanus, 188 Prince, (Rev. Dr.) his improvement on lucernal microscope, 84 Ptinus fatidicus, note 688  pulsator, ibid. Puceron, see aphides Pulex aquaticus food for polypes, 155  irritans described, 616 Pupa, change of insects to, 229 R. Ray, incident, 32refracted, ibid. Reaumur on the motion of insects, 212   fecundity of queen bee, 290 Redi, his observations on the production of flies, 174 Reflections on cruelty to animals, 150, note ibid. Refraction, its principles, 32ascertained by experiments, 33 Remarks on the substance of butterflies wings, note 207  on Barbuts opinion on the sense of hearing in insects, note 217  on collecting Asiatic insects, 696 Respiration of insects, 265experiments on, by Lyonet, 267Musschenbroeck, 268  musca pendula, 269 Richardsons experiments on the generation of aphides, 275 Rind of vegetables to prepare, 160 Romans probably acquainted with the single microscope, 3  spectacles known to them, ibid. S. Salts and saline substances, to prepare, 163  their crystallization, 600what understood by it, 601phnomena of ditto, 602their various figures, 603Bergmans account of their forms, 605  list of, for microscopic observation, 710 Sap vessels of plants, to fill, 162 Scales of fish to examine, 147eel, to prepare, ibid.  parrot fish, 355sea pearch, haddockWestIndia pearchsole fish, 356 Scutellum of insects, 200 Sections of wood, instrument for cutting, 127appendage to ditto, 128 Seeds, vegetable, a descriptive list of a variety of, 645lithospermum, ibid.cyminum, 646papaver, 647cardirus, ibid.plantago, 648staphis agria, 649anisum, ibid.fniculum, 651grana Paradisi, 652petroselinum, 653petroselinum Macedonicum, 654coriandrum, 655seseli, ibid.hyoscyamus, 657cicer, 658laurus, 659ficoides afra, 660palma aricefera, 661juniperus, ibid.santonicum, 662scabiosa, 663 Sentiments of learned men in earlier times on minute parts of creation, note 177 Shakspeare, quotation from, on the feeling of insects, note 150parody on a passage in, note 690 Shells, to view, 148minute, arrangement and description of, 629manner of procuring them, 632observations on, ibid.serpula, 633dentale, 635patella, ibid.helix, ibid.turbo, 636trochus, 638buccinum, 639voluta, ibid.bulla, 640nautilus, ibid.Mytilus, 642anomia, 643arca, ibid.cardium, 644lepas, ibid.echinus, ibid.asterias, 645 Shoots, vegetable, to obtain, 159 Silkworm, its eyes, 196metamorphosis, 240 Skin, pores of, to examine, 147  of solefish, 356lizards, 147 Smith, his compound microscope, 17 Solefish, scale of, 356skin of, ibid. Spanishfly, its utility in medicine and commerce, note 175 Spider, eyes of, 199described, 621 Spiracula of insects, 201 Stemmata of ditto, 199 Sternum of ditto, 200 Stillingfleet, his remarks on the importance of natural history, 331 Sting of bee to dissect, 144described, 214 Stings of insects, 213 Strength of minute animals, note 427 Swammerdam uses the single microscope, 6his method of preparing objects, 137his microscope described, 138manner of dissecting, ibid. Swift, quotation from, on the deathwatch, note 689 System, Linnean, commended, 168 T. Tabanus, its proboscis described, 188 Tail of insects, 213 Telescope, portable microscope and, 125 Termes pulsatorium, note 688 Termites or white ants, history of, 308 Thorax of insects, 201 Thrips physapus described, 350 Timber, organization of, 574 Tincture of cochineal, to prepare, 161 Tongue of insects, 181 Transformation of insects, 220rhinoceros beetle, 245musca chamleon, 248pendula, 256libellula, 257cynips, 260aphides, ibid.hippobosca equina, 261theory of, by Bonnet, ibid. Transparent objects to examine with the lucernal microscope, 74to transmit on a screen, 75   list of, 614 Trees, leaves of, to examine, 147 Trunk of insects, 201 Tubularia campanulata, 411 V. Vegetable substances, to prepare for the microscope, 159young shoots, ibid.rind, 160blea, 162sap vessels, to fill, 162  seeds, descriptive list of, 645 Vegetables, their beauty and perfection, 574 Vinegar eel described, 461 Vision, its principles shewn by experiments, 27 Vivacity of minute animals note, 427 Vorticell described, 396anastatica, 397pyraria, 400cratgaria, ibid.opercularia, 401umbellaria, 402berberina, 406digitalis, ibid.convallaria, 407urceolaris, 408tubularia campanulata, 411 W. Walker on minute shells, 630commended by Sir Jos. Banks, ibid.extracts from, 633 Wasp, its sting to dissect, 145 Water, eel in fresh, 468in salt ditto, 469 Wheat, eel in blighted, 467 Wheel animal, 549 Willughby detects a pretended discoverer of animalcula, note 432 Wilson, his screwbarrel microscope, 115ditto with scroll, 117 Wings of insects to dissect, 143  forficula auricularia, ibid.notonecta, ibid.butterflies and moths, 144, 207described, 201hemerobius perla, 206 Wisdom, divine, displayed in the creation, 267, 174providence, 174benevolence, 175 Withering, his botanical microscope, 115 Wood, instrument for cutting sections of, 127,appendage to, 128 Worm, silk, its eyes described, 196 Worms, red, food for polypes, 155 Z. Ziehr improves solar microscope, 20 Illustration: PLATE 1. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams N.o 60, Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn. Lodge sc. Illustration: Pl. 2A London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Goodnight sculp. Illustration: Pl. 2B Illustration: PLATE III. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams N.o 60, Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge sculp. Illustration: PLATE IV. London. Printed for  Published by F. Kanmacher, and W.  S. Jones, 135 Holborn as the Act directs, 1.st October 1797. J. Hawksworth Sculp. Illustration: PLATE V. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE VI. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: Plate 7A. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: Pl. 7B. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE VIII. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE IX. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by W.  S. Jones, 135 Holborn,  F. Kanmacher Apothecaries Hall, as the Act directs, 1,st December 1797. Jn. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE X. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE XI. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XII. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street as the act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn.o Lodge sculp. Illustration: PLATE XIII. Illustration: PLATE XIV. London. Printed for  Published by F. Kanmacher, and W.  S. Jones, 135 Holborn, as the Act directs, 1.st November 1797. J. Hawksworth sculp. Illustration: PLATE XV. London. Printed for  Published by W.  S. Jones, 135 Holborn, and F. Kanmacher, Apothecaries Hall, as the Act directs, November 1.st 1797. J. Hawksworth sculp. Illustration: PLATE XVI. T. Milne del. London Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60, Fleet Street, as the Act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn.o Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XVII. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo. Adams, 60 Fleet Street, May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE XVIII. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo. Adams, 60 Fleet Street, May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE XIX. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn.o Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XX. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn.o Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XXI. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the Act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XXII. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge sc. Illustration: Pl. 23 A. J. Wigley. Sc. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o Illustration: Pl. 23.B. 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. 20 May 1787. Bonles Sc. Illustration: Pl. 24.A. J. Wigley. Sc. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o Illustration: Pl. 24.B. 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. 20 May 1787. Bonles Sc. Illustration: PLATE XXV. T. Milne Delin.t London Published May 1.st 1787. Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street. Illustration: Plate XXVI. London Published May 1.st 1787. Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street. Illustration: PLATE XXVII. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XXVIII. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge scu. Illustration: PLATE XXIX. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. J. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XXX. London Printed for  Publishd by Geo.e Adams N.o 60 Fleet Street May 20th 1787. Illustration: PLATE XXXI. T. Milne del. London. Printed for  Published by George Adams, N.o 60 Fleet Street, as the act directs. May 20, 1787. Jn. Lodge sc. Illustration: PLATE XXXII. A CATALOGUE OF Optical, Mathematical, and Philosophical Instruments, MADE AND SOLD BY W. AND S. JONES, No. 135, NEXT FURNIVALSINN, HOLBORN, LONDON. OPTICAL INSTRUMENTS. . s. d. Best doublejointed standard gold spectacles, with pebbles, and fishskin goldmounted case 16 16 0 Ditto singlejointed, with ditto case 10 10 0 Best doublejointed silver ditto, with pebbles 1 16 0 Ditto, ditto, with glasses 1 1 0 Best singlejointed, with pebbles 1 8 0 Ditto, with glasses 0 13 0 Best doublejointed steel ditto, with glasses 0 9 0 An improved sort of ditto for ladies 0 10 6 Second best doublejointed steel spectacles, with spring case 0 7 6 Common ditto 0 4 6 Best singlejointed steel spectacles 0 4 6 Second best ditto 0 2 6 Common ditto 0 1 6 Tortoishell spectacles, silverjointed, with pointed, and other shaped sides, peculiar for their lightness and uninterruption of dressed hair, in morocco leather cases 0 10 6 Ditto, doublejointed frames 0 15 0 Spectacles for eyes that have been couched 0 7 6 Ditto with green glasses for very weak and inflamed eyes, according to the frames, from 6s. to 1 1 0 Ditto for the same purpose, with new contrived portable shades to screen the eyes from candle, or other light 0 15 0 Nose spectacles in silver 0 7 6 Ditto in tortoishell and silver. 0 4 0 Ditto in horn and steel 0 1 6 Spectacle cases in very great variety, from 2d. each to 10 10 0 Concave glasses for shortsighted persons, in horn cases 0 1 6 Ditto in tortoishell, pearl, silver, c. from 2s. 6d. to 2 2 0 Ditto in newcontrived frames for gentlemen when shooting 0 16 0 Reading and burning glasses, in various mountings, from 1s. to 1 16 0 Convex glasses for watchmakers, engravers, c. from 1s. to 0 10 6 Gogglers, to guard the eyes from the dust or wind 0 3 0 New greenlight shades for the eyes 0 6 6 Opera glasses, in great variety of mountings, from 4s. 6d. to 2 12 6 Ditto, on an improved construction of glasses, plain mounting 1 1 0 REFRACTING TELESCOPES of various lengths, from 6s. to 1 16 0 Ditto to use at sea by night, from 1l. 11s. 6d. to 2 12 6 Achromatic stick telescopes of various lengths from 18s. to 4 0 0 The newimproved ditto, with three sliding brass tubes, by which an instantaneous view of the object is obtained, and shuts up very short for the pocket, of one foot in length, in a case 1 11 6 Second best twodrawers, ditto 1 1 0 Twenty inch best threedrawers, ditto 2 12 6 Ditto second best twodrawers 1 10 0 Two feet best threedrawers, ditto 4 4 0 Ditto second best, ditto 3 3 0 Three feet, best fourdrawer ditto 6 6 0 Second best ditto 4 4 0 The preceding telescopes, fitted up elegantly with silver or plated tubes, from 2l. 2s. to 21 0 0 Astronomical eyepieces and portable brass stands for the above, from 10s. 6d. to 2 12 6 The newimproved 2 feet achromatic refractor, on a brass stand, mahogany tube, with two sets of eyeglasses, one magnifying about forty times for terrestrial objects, and the other about seventyfive times for astronomical purposes, packed in a mahogany box 9 9 0 Ditto, ditto, the tube all brass, with three eyepieces 11 1 6 The 3 feet ditto, ditto, mahogany tube 17 6 6 Ditto, ditto, brass tube 19 8 6 Ditto all in brass, with rackwork motions, c. 24 3 0 Achromatic perspective glasses for the pocket, in brass, c. tubes, with a change of eyeglasses, from 12s. to 3 3 0 Newimproved ditto, answering the purpose of an operaglass, with a compass, and helioscope for viewing the sun, from 1l. 3s. to 2 2 0 Newimproved achromatic pocket telescope, which, by a small apparatus within its tubes, is readily converted into a compound microscope 3 13 6 An improved portable seveninch achromatic telescope in brass, with a stand that packs up into the tube of the telescope, adapted for astronomical uses 3 13 6 REFLECTING TELESCOPES, fitted up either upon the Gregorian, Newtonian, or Herschelian principles, with improved wood, or metal stands, and other apparatus for making celestial observations in the most commodious and accurate mannerThe general prices are as follow:  Fifteen feet in length, the large metal fifteen inches in diameter, from 250l. to 500 0 0  Twelve feet in length, fourteen inch metal 200 0 0  Ten feet in length, twelve inch metal 150 0 0  Eight feet in length, eleven inch metal 140 0 0  Six feet in length, nine inch metal 100 0 0  Four feet long, in brass tubes, with portable brass or mahogany framed stands, from 40l. to 100 0 0 Those reflectors that are constructed upon the principles of Newton or Herschel are about twice the above lengths in the tubes. The reflectors upon the usual Gregorian construction are made with the vertical motion upon a new principle, so as to render them more firm and steady while in use, than any reflectors mounted in the old manner. A four feet seven inch aperture Gregorian reflector, with the vertical motion upon a new invented principle, as well as apparatus to render the tube more steady in observation; according to the additional apparatus of small speculums, eyepieces, micrometers, c. from 70l. to 100 0 0 Three feet long, mounted on a brass stand, common mounting 23 2 0 Ditto with rack work motions, improved mounting, and metals 36 15 0 Two feet long, without rackwork, and with four magnifying powers, improved, 13l. 13s. to 14 14 0 Ditto improved, with rackwork motions 22 1 0 Eighteen inch on a plain stand 8 8 0 Twelve inch ditto 5 5 0 Telescopes of both the above kinds fitted up. with equatorial, c. motions, micrometers, adjusting, compensating, c. apparatus, for the most accurate astronomical purposes. Common MICROSCOPES, from 2s. 6d. to 1 1 0 Wilsons single pocket microscopes, from 18s. to 2 12 6 Compound microscopes improved, from 2l. 12s. 6d. to 5 5 0 New improved universal ditto 6 6 0 Ditto with the most complete apparatus 10 10 0 Solar microscopes in brass, improved, from 4l. 14s. 6d. to 6 6 0 The new opake and transparent solar microscopes, with improved apparatus, from 10l. 10s. to 16 16 0 Ditto of a larger size, with additional megalascopic apparatus, from 14l. 14s. to 19 19 0 Ditto, and best compound ditto, packed together in one mahogany box 21 0 0 The LUCERNAL MICROSCOPE, as improved by W. JONES, exhibiting images of opake and transparent objects by night or day, in a manner singularly pleasing, brilliant and distinct, with upwards of 100 objects, proper apparatus, patent lamp, c. 16 16 0 Ditto combined with a solar, compound, c. apparatus, forming the most perfect collection of microscopical apparatus 35 14 0 A portable optical apparatus, consisting of a scioptic ball and socket, a solar microscope, Wilsons microscope, a pocket compound microscope, a pocket telescope, and solar telescope, in mahogany and brass 3 13 6 Pocket microscopes for opake objects, from 16s. to 2 12 6 Botannic microscopes for flowers, c. from 5s. to 1 11 6 A new universal pocket ditto, adapted to all sorts of objects 1 6 0 Cloth microscopes, from 2s. 6d. to 0 10 6 Magic lanthorns, from 1l. 4s. to 1 8 0 Sliders for ditto in great variety of subjects, each 0 3 6 A new set of moveable painted sliders, shewing the fundamental principles of astronomy, with the real and apparent motions and positions of the planets, stars, c. c. accompanied by a proper improved lanthorn, complete 13 13 0 Small magic lanthorns, with twelve sliders complete, at 7s. 6d. 10s. 6d. 12s. and 1 0 0 Ditto with twelve sliders of best English paintings 2 2 0 Optical diagonal machines for viewing prints, from 1l. to 1 11 6 Perspective views in great variety for ditto, each 0 1 6 Scioptic balls and sockets from 10s. 6d. to 1 11 6 An artificial eye in brass, to exemplify the nature of vision 1 11 6 For a description of this instrument, as well as of spectacles, readingglasses, c. see the late Mr. G. ADAMSS Essay on Vision, 8vo. price 3s. now sold by W. and S. JONES. Camera obscuras for the pocket, from 9s. to 1 16 0 A new invented folding ditto, very portable 2 2 0 Large ditto, shutting up like a book, or neat portable chest, the objects represented on paper, from 4l. 14s. 6d. to 8 18 6 Concave and convex glass mirrors, in plain black frames, four, five, six, and seven inches diameter, each 9s. 12s. 14s. and 0 18 0 Eight inches diameter ditto 1 1 0 Nine inches ditto 1 7 0 Ten inches ditto 1 12 0 Twelve inches ditto 2 5 0 Fifteen inches ditto 3 13 6 Eighteen inches ditto 6 6 0 Twentyone inches ditto 11 11 0 Twentyfour inches ditto 16 16 0 Concave mirrors, ground cylindrically, possessing several curious properties in the deformation of objects, according to the size, from 1l. 1s. to 5 5 0 Concave metal burning mirrors, superior to the glass ones, from 3l. 13s. 6d. to 21 0 0 Glass prisms, plain, or mounted on stands, from 7s. 6d. to 1 11 6 A curious set of optical models, where the rays of light are represented by silken strings, and illustrating the principles of vision, telescopes, prisms, c. packed in five cases 6 16 6 MATHEMATICAL INSTRUMENTS. THEODOLITES of the common construction, and of the best workmanship, from 4l. 4s. to 31 10 0 A portable theodolite, with a telescope, level, and vertical arch 7 7 0 Ditto larger, with parallel plates, c. divided to two minutes 12 12 0 Ditto with rackwork motions, divisions to a minute 22 1 0 A newimproved theodolite, with two telescopes, and contrivances for every accurate adjustment 36 15 0 A new very portable theodolite, by rackwork, measuring angles with equal accuracy as those of the common large sort, is at the same time applicable for taking altitudes, and is truly adapted for the purpose of levelling 8 8 0 A 4inch further improved ditto, by which the vertical and horizontal angles are shewn at the same time, with portable staves, c. 10 10 0 Circumferentors, much used in wood lands, from 2l. 2s. to 4 4 0 An improved ditto, contrived to answer the purposes of a common theodolite, level, altitude instrument, c. 4 14 6 Surveying crosses or squares, on a staff, from 12s. to 1 11 6 A brass cylindrical ditto, with a staff 0 18 0 Ditto with compass, agate capped needle, c. 1 11 6 Improved ditto, with rackwork and pinion, and moveable divided limb, making a very portable crossstaff, compass and theodolite in one instrument 2 18 0 Levels of the latest improvements, from 2l. 2s. to 12 12 0 Station staves, with sliding vanes, for levelling 2 12 6 Plane tables, with index, sights, c. complete, from 3l. 13s. 6d. to 5 5 0 Pentagraphs, by which any person unskilled in drawing may copy plans, surveys, profiles, drawings, c. in any proportion to the original, from 1l. 16s. to 6 16 6 Perambulators or measuring wheels, from 61. 6s. to 10 10 0 Gunters measuring chain, according to strength, from 5s. to 0 11 0  navigation scale, from 2s. to 0 4 0  ditto improved by Donn, with book of directions 0 5 0  ditto improved by Robertson, with brass adjusting screws, c. being the completest scale of the kind 1 10 0  sectors of various lengths, from 2s. to 1 11 6 A new pocket ten inch box sliding rule for solving all sorts of problems in trigonometry, c. from 2s. 6d. to 0 4 0 Measuring tapes, one, two, three, and four poles, 5s. 7s. 6d. 9s. 0 10 6 Pedeometers for ascertaining distances in walking or riding, of a watch size for the pocket, and also to apply to carriages, from 31. 3s. to 12 12 0 Miners compasses, for working in subterraneous grounds, from 10s. 6d. to 1 11 6 Cases of drawing instruments, from 4s. 6d. to 5 5 0 Magazine, or complete collection of every kind of useful drawing instruments, from 5l. 5s. to 35 0 0 A new portable drawing board and seat, the board folds up for the pocket, and the legs of the seat form a walking stick 0 18 0 Proportional compasses, from 1l. 10s. to 3 3 0 Elliptical compasses of various degrees of perfection and utility, from 16s. to 4 14 6 Spiral and elliptical compasses, from 6s. 6d. to 10 10 0 Triangular compasses, by which three points at once may be transferred, from 13s. to 1 5 0 Hair compasses that take extents to a great accuracy 0 7 6 Beam compasses for dividing large circles, projections, c. from 1l. 1s. to 10 0 0 Bow compasses for describing very small circles, from 2s. 6d. to 0 12 0 Perspective compasses to take angles, c. from 1l. 5s. to 2 12 6 Parallel rulers of different constructions, from 2s. to 2 12 6 Protractors for laying down angles, from 2s. to 1 1 0 Ditto, with a nonius and moveable limb 2 2 0 Ditto, ditto, with teeth and pinion 4 10 0 Sets of protracting and plotting scales; instruments for dividing lines or transferring divisions on paper. An instrument for describing circles from four to six inches radius, or to the utmost conceivable distanceGunners callipersGunners levels or perpendicularsShot gaugesShell dittoGunners quadrants, with a plummet or level, or adjusting screw, c. and all other instruments for military purposes. HADLEYS QUADRANTS, mahogany, the divisions on wood 1 11 6 Ditto mahogany with ivory arch and nonius, double observation 2 2 0 Ditto, ditto, a brass index, double observation 2 12 6 Ditto, ebony and brass, best glasses, engine divided, c. 3 0 0 Ebony and brass mounted best sextants, from 4l. 4s. to 8 18 6 Metal ditto, all brass, framed on a principle the least liable to be warped or strained, with adjusting screws, telescopes, and other auxiliary apparatus, the most proper for taking distances accurately, to determine the longitude at sea, c. 12 12 0 Ditto, second best 8 8 0 A new small 3inch pocket box sextant to take angles to a minute, from 2l. 2s. to 3 3 0 Artificial horizons, by parallel glasses and quicksilver, to take double altitudes by 1 16 0 Gunters quadrant, from 4s. to 1 1 0 Azimuth compasses of different constructions, from 5l. 5s. to 12 12 0 Pocket compasses from 2s. 6d. to 5 5 0 Horizontal sundials, in brass, made for any latitude, of four, five, or six inches diameter, divided into five minutes of time, each at 6s. 9s. and 0 12 0 Ditto seven inches 0 16 0 Ditto eight inches, into two minutes 1 4 0 Ditto ten inches, ditto 1 16 0 Ditto twelve inches, ditto 2 10 0 Ditto, fifteen inches, into every minute, thirtytwo points of the compass, c. 4 14 6 Ditto eighteen inches, ditto, ditto, with equation table, c. 8 8 0 Ditto 2 feet diameter, ditto, ditto 15 15 0 A new universal ditto and equatorial, making a very portable angular instrument, from 8l. 8s. to 31 10 0 Universal ring dials, from 7s. 6d. to 10 10 0 For a general description and representation of the instruments used in surveying, levelling, and other branches of practical geometry, see the late Mr. G. ADAMSS Geometrical and Graphical Essays, an improved edition by W. JONES, in two vols, 8vo. 1797, with thirtyfive folio copperplates. Price 14s. ASTRONOMICAL, c. INSTRUMENTS. A portable TRANSIT INSTRUMENT, with a cast iron stand, to ascertain the rate of chronometers, the longitude, c. the axis is twelve inches in length, and the telescope about twenty inches, packed in a case 12 12 0 Ditto, with a brass framed stand, and other additions 20 0 0 Transit instruments of larger dimensions made to order. The new CIRCULAR INSTRUMENTS and EQUATORIALS, from 63l. to 180 0 0 Planetariums, shewing the phnomena of the Ptolemaic and Copernican systems, from 7l. 7s. to 50 0 0 Manual orreries of the common construction from 2l. 12s. 6d. to 6 6 0 Joness (Wm.) new portable orrery, the tellurian part 1 1 0 Ditto, the planetarium part 1 1 0 Tellurian and planetarium together, making the New Portable Orrery, packed in a neat mahogany box, according to the sizes, from 2l. 12s. 6d. to 5 5 0 An orrery shewing the motions of Mercury, Venus, the Earth and Moon, by wheelwork, the Earth is a 1 inch globe, packed in a box 4 4 0 Other planetariums and orreries in great variety, the motions by wheelwork, exemplifying all the motions and phnomena of all the planets, the Georgium Sidus included, from 40l. to 1000 0 0 Cometariums, for exemplifying the motion of comets, from 1l. 11s. 6d. to 5 5 0 Senexs globes improved, twentyeight inches diameter, mahogany frames, from 25l. to 50 0 0 Twelve inch ditto, improved by Ferguson, with all the new discoveries of Capt. Cooke, c. with the new hour circles, which supersede all the intended advantages of cumbersome wires, and other appendages, in other globes, mounted in neat mahogany clawfeet frames 5 5 0 Ditto, in common coloured wood frames 3 3 0 Additional price of a compass, and fitting to both globes 0 5 0 A pair of red leather covers for the globes 0 9 6 Globes, nine inches diameter, with the new discoveries 2 2 0 Ditto, three inches ditto, in clawfeet, mahogany frames 1 10 0 Ditto, three inches single, one in a case for the pocket 0 9 0 Geographical planispheres, to solve problems, mounted as a hand firescreen 0 7 6 A brass armillary sphere, three inches diameter 3 3 0 A six inch ditto 6 6 0 A nine inch ditto 9 9 0 A twelve inch ditto 12 12 0 Larger ditto, with planetarium, from 21l. to 105 0 0 For a general description of orreries and other astronomical instruments, see the late Mr. G. ADAMSS Astronomical Essays, 8vo. with sixteen plates; price 10s. 6d. now sold by W. and S. JONES. PHILOSOPHICAL, c. INSTRUMENTS. A singlebarrel AIR PUMP, with receiver 2 12 6 Improved ditto, exhausting more accurately 5 15 6 A small doublebarrel air pump, with gage plate 5 5 0 A middle size ditto 6 16 6 A large size table ditto 10 10 0 Air pumps of the largest sort, exhausting more accurately, from the constructions of the different inventors. Condensing engines, from 5l. 5s. to 21 0 0 Papins digester improved, on a stand 5 15 6 The principal Apparatus for the Air Pump as follow: Guinea and feather apparatus, demonstrating the resistance of the air, with one, two, or three falls, from 18s. to 1 11 6 A set of windmills, for the same demonstration 1 11 6 The brass hemispheres, shewing the airs external pressure, from 14s. to 1 10 0 A bell, proving that there is no sound without air 0 10 6 Improved constructions of this bell, from 1l. 1s. to 3 3 0 Lead weights, with bladder, c. proving the airs elasticity 0 17 0 The double transferrer, that transfers a vacuum from one receiver to another, by turning stopcocks only 3 0 0 A model of a waterpump, exemplifying the nature of pumps, and proving the absurdity of what is called suction 1 4 0 A single transferrer, plate and pipe, for a fountain 0 18 0 A copper airpipe for experiments on infected air 0 17 0 A flat plate, collar of leathers, with sliding wire, for placing on receivers 0 12 0 An apparatus for firing gunpowder in vacuo 0 18 0 A copper bottle, beam and stand, for accurately weighing of air 2 12 6 A glass vessel for making a fountain in vacuo 0 5 6 Ditto on a larger, and different construction 0 16 0 A glass with a bladder, shewing the action of the lungs 0 6 0 Ditto mounted with the figure of a Bacchus 1 10 0 A balance beam and stand 0 7 0 A filtering cup shewing the porosity of vegetables 0 5 0 A plate and piece of wood for the same purpose 0 4 6 An apparatus for striking flint and steel in vacuo 0 18 0 The Torricellian experiment 0 18 0 Fruit stand 0 3 6 Candlestick 0 3 6 Syringe with lead weight 0 10 6 Six breaking squares, cage and cap 0 7 6 Glass bubble and stand 0 3 0 Hand and bladder glasses 0 3 6 With a great variety of receivers, and other apparatus, described by various authors. Exhausting and condensing syringes, from 10s. 6d. to 1 11 6 Exhausting syringes, with sets of cupping glasses, breast glasses, and scarificator, complete 4 14 6 Air fountains of copper, with various jets, from 3l. 13s. 6d. to 7 7 0 ELECTRICAL MACHINES, with conductors and jars, from 2l. 12s. 6d. to 10 10 0 New and much improved ditto, from 3l. 13s. 6d. to 42 0 0 Electrical machines and complete apparatus, for medical purposes, packed in boxes, the cylinder from seven to ten inches diameter, from 6l. 6s. to 12 12 0 An electrical machine, with apparatus for philosophical experiments and medical uses, packed in a box, the cylinder about eight inches diameter 8 18 6 Apparatus for Electrical Machines as follow: Electrical batteries of combined jars, from 2l. 12s. 6d. to 10 10 0 An universal discharger, with a press 1 8 0 A quadrant electrometer, with divided arch 0 7 6 Jointed dischargers, with glass handles 0 10 6 Plain ditto, ditto 0 5 6 An useful and illustrative apparatus, compounded of the luminous conductor, exhausted flask, two jars, exhausted syringe, insulated stand, and wires with balls, c. complete 3 0 0 Luminous conductors, from 12s. to 1 5 0 Exhausted flasks, called Aurora Borealis 0 6 6 A thunder house, demonstrating the use of conductors 0 6 0 A powder house, for the same purpose 0 16 0 An obelisk or pyramid for ditto 0 10 6 A set of plain bells, three to a set 0 7 6 A new set of musical ditto, containing the gamut 1 10 0 A magic picture for giving shocks 0 7 6 An electrical cannon, to be discharged by inflammable air 0 16 0 Brass pistols for ditto 0 7 6 Spiral tubes, to illuminate by the spark, from 4s. 6d. to 0 10 6 Luminous names, or words, from 10s. 6d. to 1 11 6 Spotted jars, from 6s. to 0 10 6 A double jar for explaining the Franklinian theory 0 15 0 Copper plates and stands for dancing images 0 9 0 An electrical tin fire house 0 10 6 An electrical shooter and mark 0 5 0 A mahogany stand for eggs 0 4 6 A small head with hair 0 7 6 An artificial spider 0 1 6 An electrical swan 0 2 0 An electrical star 0 1 6 Balls of wood, bone, c. each from 6d. to 0 2 6 A curious collection of working models, to be set in motion by the electrical fluid, consisting of a corn mill and a threebarrelled waterpump, worked by one crank only: an orrery, shewing the diurnal motion of the earth, age and phases of the moon, c. and astronomical clock, shewing the aspects of the sun and moon, age, phases, c. all delicately made of card paper, cork, and wire only, packed in a deal case 2 12 6 Kinnersleys electrical air thermometer 1 1 0 Cavallos atmospherical electrometer 0 12 0 Ditto, as improved by Saussure 1 1 0 Bennets gold leaf electrometer 0 18 0 Nicholsons spinning doubler. 1 10 0 An electrophorus, from 10s. 6d. to 3 3 0 Conductors for the preservation of ships, houses, c. from lightning, from 3l. 3s. to 5 5 0 The medical Apparatus consists of, Jars with electrometers, from 12s. to 1 1 0 A new medical ditto, for communicating shocks in the most convenient and qualified manner 0 7 6 A pair of directors, glass handles, wood points, c. 0 7 6 An electrometer to apply to the conductor 0 6 6 Electrical insulated stools and chairs, from 9s. to 5 5 0 A new perpetual inflammable air lamp, lighted by the electrophorus, a curious and useful apparatus 4 4 0 A variety of other apparatus, too numerous to be inserted here, which as well as the machines, are mounted from the most approved, eligible methods, so as to render them in action both powerful and permanent. For a complete description of electrical apparatus, see the late Mr. G. ADAMSS Essay on Electricity, 8vo. six plates; price 6s. now sold by W. and S. JONES. Barometers plain mounted from 1l. 11s. 6d. to 2 12 6 Thermometers for all the various purposes, from 9s. to 3 3 0 Sixs new thermometers, for shewing the extremes of heat and cold, in the absence of the observer, from 1l. 11s. 6d. to 2 12 6 An hygrometer, shewing the moisture and dryness of the air 0 10 6 Barometers, thermometers, and hygrometers, all in one neat mahogany frame, from 4l. 4s. to 6 6 0 Barometers for measuring the heights of mountains from 7s. to 10 10 0 Marine barometers, diagonal, wheel, and statical ditto. New hygrometers constructed by De Luc, c. from 2l. 2s. to 3 3 0 A rain gauge, with float and tin vessel 0 18 0 Wind gages, of the constructions of Dr. Lind, c. 0 16 0 Hydrometers for discovering the strength and proportion of compound in spirituous liquors, from 1l. 7s. to 3 3 0 Hydrostatic balances, from 1l. 1s. to 9 9 0 An apparatus for hydrostatical experiments, from 3l. 13s. 6d. to 21 0 0 Artificial magnets in bars, and sets of bars, from 2s. 6d. to 6 6 0 Ditto, in the shape of a horseshoe, the strongest form, from 1s. 6d. to 1 1 0 Ditto, combined to any number, from 12s. to 21 0 0 A box of magnetical apparatus illustrating a variety of curious and entertaining properties in magnetism, from 5l. 5s. to 7 7 0 Dipping needles, variation, and other compasses, in great variety. Pyrometers, shewing the expansion of metals, from 3l. 3s. to 10 10 0 The mechanical powers, for illustrating and demonstrating the laws of motion, gravity, c. a set neatly made in brass, consisting of the balance, the pullies, the different kinds of levers, the inclined plane, the wheel and axle, the screw, a compound engine, a compound lever, a double cone to move up an inclined plane, friction wheels, weights, wedges, c. complete 25 4 0 The same occasionally made on a more enlarged plan, for a large auditory. Ditto, with many parts of the apparatus made of mahogany, and the whole set packed in a neat mahogany box 14 14 0 Separate sets of pullies, variously constructed and combined. A small carriage with inclined plane, and wheels of different sizes, c. experimentally proving the friction, resistance, c. of all sorts of wheel carriages 7 7 0 Fergusons compound engine, in which all the simple mechanical powers work together 4 4 0 A whirling table, for explaining and demonstrating the laws of the planets motion, the demonstrations of the doctrine of the tides, and other properties of gravity and centrifugal force, from 7l. 7s. to 16 16 0 Atwoods elegant and accurate apparatus for demonstrating the laws of accelerated and retarded motion, and other interesting particulars 25 4 0 Several small mahogany models for explaining the center of gravity, the line of direction, c. 2 2 0 FOR PHILOSOPHICAL CHEMISTRY. Glass bottles with bent necks, from 4s. to 0 10 6 A glass machine for impregnating water with fixed air, and apparatus 2 12 6 Glass eudiometer tubes, for ascertaining the salubrity of airs, c. 0 10 6 Ditto as improved by Abbe Fontana, c. 2 4 0 Gazometers by Priestley, Lavoisier, c. from 1l. 1s. to 5 5 0 A blowpipe, with various caps, for fluxing metals, c. 0 7 6 Ditto, with silver spoon, megalascope, c. 1 1 0 Ditto, ditto, with a variety of other necessary apparatus, packed in a fishskin case, forming Cronstedts complete pocket laboratory, improved by Magellan 2 12 6 Magellans new portable lamp furnace, with the blowpipe, small glass retorts, c. c. for chemical as well as mineralogical operations 4 14 6 Ditto, with the double bellows to apply to the blowpipe 7 7 0 Double bellows, with deal table, and appendages, for glass blowing 2 12 6 A wooden tub for water, and another for quicksilver, with a selection of glass apparatus for performing the late discovered experiments on air 6 6 0 A box, containing all the useful precipitants of Bergman, c. for analysing waters, and fluxes for the blowpipe in phials with glass stoppers, with Gottlings printed description of ditto 4 8 0 A mahogany case containing, in phials, a variety of preparations for young persons to perform amusive and instructive chemical experiments 3 13 6 Fumigating bellows for destroying insects in gardens, by tobacco, from 1l. 6s. to 1 16 0 Instruments of Recreation and Amusement. The sensitive fishes, that have the property of swimming to a piece of bread placed at the end of a stick; and, when the other end is presented, of retreating and going back, sensible, as it were, of no substance for them to eat 0 6 6 The sagacious swan, that with a machine makes three kinds of amusements1st. the swan will point out the secrets of the cards; 2d. it will point answers to 16 humorous enigmas; and 3d. disclose any particular hour that was thought of, such as going to bed or rising; packed in a case 1 18 0 A box containing four numbers and four letters, the order of which may be discovered, if ever so secretly placed, by means of a curious magic perspective 0 10 0 Ditto with five numbers, no perspective, but another very similar box, made in neat mahogany boxes, and more difficult to discover the reason of 1 18 0 A curious magic oracle, unfolding answers to any proposed questions secretly taken out of a bag 0 16 0 A magic painter, exhibiting a copy of any one of eight different paintings secretly chosen 0 10 6 A communicative mirror, shewing portraits of any one of four secretly chosen; an elegant and curious instrument 2 12 6 A box containing five pieces of different metals, which may any way be secretly placed, and their situation be told by the magical perspective 1 8 0 An optical paradox, containing two perspectives, between which a board may be placed, and the object will be seen through them just as well as if the board was not there 0 7 6 Ditto mounted in mahogany, larger size 1 8 0 An optical deception, containing from six to twelve different paintings, and which are looked down upon through a perspective, and immediately there appears another very different object, without any alteration of the instrument whatsoever, or concern of the person using it, from 1l. 11s. 6d. to 3 3 0 A diagonal opera glass, that shews persons on one side, when the glass is presented to the object directly before you, from 6s. to 0 15 0 A multiplying glass, making one object appear a great number, from 1s. 6d. to 0 10 6 A set of anamorphoses or deformed pictures rectified by a polished cylinder 2 2 0 A mathematical recreation, containing near seventy figures on a card; any one figure being thought of, is readily pointed out by any one using it 0 1 0 The two curious mathematical cubes, one of which is gauged so as to prove it to be larger than the other, yet the larger one will actually pass through the smaller one, and not in any degree stretch it 1 0 0 The mathematical paradox, a piece of wood of one figure, fits exactly, and passes through a triangular, a square, and a circular hole 0 2 6 A double cone, that apparently rolls upwards up an inclined plane, though actually descending 0 4 6 A magic well, in which may be put four buckets full of different seeds, and fairly mixed together; any particular seed of the above four kinds may be drawn up separately, and, when examined, will be found to be perfectly pure 1 11 6 A mechanical instrument, consisting of a cube and two wooden handles, that supports itself on a point, although the entire form and weight appear evidently all on one side 0 12 0 A cylindrical mirror that produces two or three curious optical effects 1 1 0 A magic or electrical bottle, that is charged by the rubbing of a ribband only, and will give a shock to five or six persons, with apparatus, in a pocket case 0 10 6 A set of the artificial fireworks imitated, containing a series of brilliant and entertaining scenes of fireworks, cascades of fire, c. producing altogether a pleasing effect, and not attended with any trouble, noise, or danger, when using; the whole contained in a neat mahogany box 7 7 0 The magic lanthorn apparatus conjoined with the above 10 10 0 Concave mirrors fitted up in boxes, to magnify prints, to shew various deceptions in an entertaining and pleasing manner, from 5l. 5s. to 12 0 0      Besides the preceding, a great variety of other articles too numerous to be included in this catalogue, as well as any instrumental article made from particular drawings, or as described by the different writers upon mathematics, philosophy, chemistry, c. c.      Merchants, shopkeepers, schoolmasters, and others that sell again, are supplied with the best articles, and with good allowance. Letters from the country or abroad, containing orders or previous enquiries, explicitly and punctually attended to. Les acadmies, observatoires et ecoles des pays etrangers ainsi que les ngociants, merchands et autres personnes peuvent se procurer toutes sortes dinstruments de la meilleure qualit, tant pour les matriaux, que la main duvre, avec la plus grande expdition, et au plus juste prix. BOOKS PUBLISHED BY W. JONES. A Description and Use of the New Portable Orrery, to which is prefixed a short account of the solar system, including the new planet, the burning mountain in the moon lately discovered by Dr. Herschel, and the probable reasons why the comet did not appear, as lately expected, with two copperplates, 4th edition 0 1 6 A Description and Use of the Hadleys Quadrant, with an account of all the new apparatus added to it, for taking observations accurately, in order to determine the longitude at sea, illustrated by copperplate figures, 2d edit. 0 1 0 A Description and Use of the Pocket Case of Mathematical Drawing Instruments, illustrated by copperplate figures 0 0 8 Methods of finding a Meridian Line, to set sundials, regulate clocks and watches, c. 0 0 6 Directions for finding a Meridian Line, on a card 0 0 3 A Concise Explanation of the Barometer, Thermometer, and Hygrometer, with rules for predicting changes in the weather, in a small book, 6d. on a pasteboard, varnished 0 1 0 Cowleys Illustration of SOLID GEOMETRY, containing 42 copperplates of moveable figures; a work very useful and convenient for teachers and young students of geometry, as the figures, when folded up, form exactly the solid figures of the Platonic bodies, conic sections, and several portions of Euclids Elements, c. c. boards 0 18 0 OTHER BOOKS SOLD BY W. AND S. JONES. QUARTO. The New Encyclopdia Britannica (printed at Edinburgh) a new edition, quarto, in 18 vols, or 36 parts, now complete, in boards price 18 18 0 This Dictionary of Arts and Sciences is upon a new and enlarged plan, and contains the systems of the different arts and sciences, under the different heads, as well as the explanations of the various detached terms. Huttons (Dr.) Mathematical Dictionary, 2 vols. boards 2 12 0 Nicholsons Philosophical Journal, four numbers, all that are now published, each 2s. 6d. 0 10 0 The Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society, containing 11 vols. of the Abridgement; and from thence, the Continuation at large to the present time; the index, with Birchs and Sprats history, 5 vols. all in uniform clean calf binding and tooled backs, in 58 vols. 60 0 0 Vinces Treatise on Astronomy, 1st vol. sewed 1 4 0 OCTAVO. Cavallos Treatise on Magnetism, with Supplement 0 8 0 Kellys Practical Introduction to Spherics and Nautical Astronomy 0 6 0 Moores Practical Navigator, or Seamens Daily Assistant 0 6 0 Nicholsons First Principles of Chemistry, boards 0 7 6  Introduction to Natural Philosophy, 2 vols. 0 12 0 Nautical Almanacks, a complete set bound, 28 volumes 5 5 6 Ditto for any year to 1800 0 3 6 Requisite Tables to the above, unbound 0 5 0 Robertsons Elements of Navigation, new edit. 2 vols. 1 0 0 Wales Method of finding the Longitude by Timekeepers, and Description of a Portable Transit Instrument, c. 0 2 6 FINIS. LONDON, Dec. 1, 1797 W. and S. JONES take this Opportunity of informing the Public that they have purchased the Stock and Copyright of the several Philosophical Essays by the late Mr. GEORGE ADAMS, of Fleet Street, and that they are now sold at their Shop in Holborn. The following are those now in print, and to be had as above. I. AN ESSAY ON ELECTRICITY, explaining clearly and fuly the principles of that useful Science, describing the various Instruments that have been contrived either to illustrate the Theory, or render the Practice of it entertaining. The different Modes in which the Electrical Fluid may be applied to the human Frame for medical Purposes, are distinctly and clearly pointed out, and the necessary Apparatus explained. To which is now added, A LETTER to the AUTHOR, from Mr. JOHN BIRCH, Surgeon, on the Subject of MEDICAL ELECTRICITY. Fourth Edition, 8vo. Price 6s. illustrated with six Plates. II. AN ESSAY ON VISION, briefly explaining the Fabric of the Eye, and the Nature of Vision; intended for the Service of those whose Eyes are weak and impaired, enabling them to form an accurate Idea of the State of their Sight, the Means of preserving it, together with proper Rules for ascertaining when Spectacles are necessary, and how to choose them without injuring the Sight. 8vo. Boards, Price 3s. 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The Second Edition, with upwards of Forty large Plates, considerable Alterations and Improvements; containing more complete Explanations of the Instruments, Machines, c. and the Description of many others not inserted in the former Edition. BY W. JONES, MATHEMATICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL INSTRUMENT MAKER. Transcribers Notes Depending on the hard and software used to read this text and their settins, not all elements may displayed as intended. Archaic, unusual and inconsistent spelling, grammar and sentence constructions have been retained; accents etc. for French and German have not been corrected unless listed below. Paragraph numbering has been retained, also when this was not serving any obvious purpose andor was not contiguous. The use of italicised and nonitalicised reference letters in the text has not been standardised. The hierarchy in (sub)section headings has been based on the text, due to the absence of a detailed table of contents and lack of visible differences between the various levels of (sub)section headings in the source document. The plates were originally bound separate from the text, but in the source document used they were bound together with the text. Due to the way of binding parts of most plates are invisible and discoloured near and in the gutter. Captions and credits in and around the plates have been reconstructed as far as possible. Larger versions of the plates may not be available in all file formats, but may be accessed through the browser version available at www.gutenberg.org. In the descriptions of individual items hyperlinks have only been provided to the Plates, not to individual figures in the plates. Page xvxvii and Index: the (alphabetical) order of entries has not been corrected. Errata for page 49: last line refers to footnote 28. Page 32, Fig. 2. and description: as printed in the source document, even though the description does not fully fit the illustration (and vice versa). Page 74, the end, Fig. 9 and 10: 9 and 10 are reference numbers within Figure 4 rather than figure numbers. Page 7879, Eight magnifying lenses ... the list annexed to these Essays: there are no Figures 5 through 12 in Plate III. Several of the items described may be seen in other Plates, but with different reference and figure numbers. Page 8384, The two large lenses at F, Fig. 3: there are no large lenses at F, Fig.3 in Plate IX or in Plate III (or in any other Plate). Page 84, Massachusets States: as printed in the source document. Page 162, ... for the feeding the growth ...: as printed in the source document. Page 182, ... one of these, i i, b c, Fig. 3. Plate XIII, ... and Page 183, ... the middle part i i ...: there are no reference letters i in the illustration. Page 205, They first fold back the parts A B: the reference letters are not present in the drawing. Page 352, Skin of the lump sucker: Plate XVIII. Fig. 7 falls in the gutter of the plate, and has no caption. Page 446, E. eliptica: eliptica and elliptica were both used. Page 623, the blea, the bark, and the wood: as printed in the source document. Page 636, The roundish mouth ... a thorny margin: as printed in the source document. Page 691, Coldarbour lane: possibly Coldharbour Lane or Cool Arbour Lane. Page 695, The English collection contains ...: the numbers given do not add up to the total. Page 701, knapeseed: probably an error for knapeweed or knapweed. Page 703, Diptera, entries Oestrus: Footnote 88 continues for three pages (294296) in the source document. Plate XXX, Publishd: as printed in the source document. Changes made Footnotes have been moved to under the text to which they belong. Where necessary, page numbers in references to footnotes have been adjusted accordingly. The book uses long dashes as ditto marks; several of these have been replaced with the dittoed text. Where necessary, the word Ibid. in references has been replaced with the actual title. Minor obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected silently. The Errata have already been corrected in the text. Fractions have been standardised mn. Page xxiv: N. B. moved from bottom of page xxiii to bottom of list. Page xxvii: deau douce changed to deau douce. Page 41: f A and G a changed to f A and g A. Page 50: pour les mois changed to pour le mois. Page 52: that it would changed to than it would. Page 77: The stage, Fig. f g h i changed to The stage, Fig. 1, f g h i; the screw at a changed to the screw at a. Page 81: Plate III. B, is the stage changed to Fig. 3 B, is the stage. Page 85: that at C, Fig. 4 changed to that at C, Fig. 3. Page 172: their divine original changed to their divine origin. Page 216: the sphinx atropos squeaks changed to The sphinx atropos squeaks. Page 361: friends, says the author, who are ... changed to friends, says the author, who are .... Page 387: motion of the fluids are changed to motion of the fluids is. Page 446: E. eliptica changed to E. elliptica. Page 476: accuminatus changed to acuminatus. Page 525: 340. changed to 240. Page 560: Plate XXII. Fig. 66 changed to Plate XXVII. Fig. 66. Page 703: page 187, note 623 changed to page 187 note, 623. Page 704: muscle changed to mussel (Cancer pisum). Index: the spelling of some entries has been standardised with that used in the body text. DAUGHTERS  THOUGHTS ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS: WITH REFLECTIONS ON FEMALE CONDUCT, IN The more important DUTIES of LIFE, By MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, No 72, ST. PAULS CHURCHYARD. M DCC LXXXVII. PREFACE. In the following pages I have endeavoured to point out some important things with respect to female education. It is true, many treatises have been already written; yet it occurred to me, that much still remained to be said. I shall not swell these sheets by writing apologies for my attempt. I am afraid, indeed, the reflections will, by some, be thought too grave; but I could not make them less so without writing affectedly; yet, though they may be insipid to the gay, others may not think them so; and if they should prove useful to one fellowcreature, and beguile any hours, which sorrow has made heavy, I shall think I have not been employed in vain. CONTENTS PREFACE The NURSERY MORAL DISCIPLINE EXTERIOR ACCOMPLISHMENTS ARTIFICIAL MANNERS DRESS The FINE ARTS READING BOARDINGSCHOOLS The TEMPER Unfortunate Situation of Females, fashionably educated, and left without a Fortune LOVE MATRIMONY DESULTORY THOUGHTS THE BENEFITS WHICH ARISE FROM DISAPPOINTMENTS ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS THE OBSERVANCE OF SUNDAY ON THE MISFORTUNE OF FLUCTUATING PRINCIPLES BENEVOLENCE CARDPLAYING THE THEATRE PUBLIC PLACES THOUGHTS ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. THE NURSERY. As I conceive it to be the duty of every rational creature to attend to its offspring, I am sorry to observe, that reason and duty together have not so powerful an influence over human conduct, as instinct has in the brute creation. Indolence, and a thoughtless disregard of every thing, except the present indulgence, make many mothers, who may have momentary starts of tenderness, neglect their children. They follow a pleasing impulse, and never reflect that reason should cultivate and govern those instincts which are implanted in us to render the path of duty pleasantfor if they are not governed they will run wild; and strengthen the passions which are ever endeavouring to obtain dominionI mean vanity and selflove. The first thing to be attended to, is laying the foundation of a good constitution. The mother (if there are not very weighty reasons to prevent her) ought to suckle her children. Her milk is their proper nutriment, and for some time is quite sufficient. Were a regular mode of suckling adopted, it would be far from being a laborious task. Children, who are left to the care of ignorant nurses, have their stomachs overloaded with improper food, which turns acid, and renders them very uncomfortable. We should be particularly careful to guard them in their infant state from bodily pain; as their minds can then afford them no amusement to alleviate it. The first years of a childs life are frequently made miserable through negligence or ignorance. Their complaints are mostly in their stomach or bowels; and these complaints generally arise from the quality and quantity of their food. The suckling of a child also excites the warmest glow of tendernessIts dependant, helpless state produces an affection, which may properly be termed maternal. I have even felt it, when I have seen a mother perform that office; and am of opinion, that maternal tenderness arises quite as much from habit as instinct. It is possible, I am convinced, to acquire the affection of a parent for an adopted child; it is necessary, therefore, for a mother to perform the office of one, in order to produce in herself a rational affection for her offspring. Children very early contract the manners of those about them. It is easy to distinguish the child of a wellbred person, if it is not left entirely to the nurses care. These women are of course ignorant, and to keep a child quiet for the moment, they humour all its little caprices. Very soon does it begin to be perverse, and eager to be gratified in every thing. The usual mode of acting is complying with the humours sometimes, and contradicting them at othersjust according to the dictates of an uncorrected temper. This the infant finds out earlier than can be imagined, and it gives rise to an affection devoid of respect. Uniformity of conduct is the only feasible method of creating both. An inflexible adherence to any rule that has been laid down makes children comfortable, and saves the mother and nurse much trouble, as they will not often contest, if they have not once conquered. They will, I am sure, love and respect a person who treats them properly, if some one else does not indiscreetly indulge them. I once heard a judicious father say, He would treat his child as he would his horse: first convince it he was its master, and then its friend. But yet a rigid style of behaviour is by no means to be adopted; on the contrary, I wish to remark, that it is only in the years of childhood that the happiness of a human being depends entirely on othersand to embitter those years by needless restraint is cruel. To conciliate affection, affection must be shown, and little proofs of it ought always to be givenlet them not appear weaknesses, and they will sink deep into the young mind, and call forth its most amiable propensities. The turbulent passions may be kept down till reason begins to dawn. In the nursery too, they are taught to speak; and there they not only hear nonsense, but that nonsense retailed out in such silly, affected tones as must disgust;yet these are the tones which the child first imitates, and its innocent playful manner renders them tolerable, if not pleasing; but afterwards they are not easily got the better ofnay, many women always retain the pretty prattle of the nursery, and do not forget to lisp, when they have learnt to languish. Children are taught revenge and lies in their very cradles. If they fall down, or strike their heads against any thing, to quiet them they are bid return the injury, and their little hands held out to do it. When they cry, or are troublesome, the cat or dog is chastised, or some bugbear called to take them away; which only terrifies them at first, for they soon find out that the nurse means nothing by these dreadful threatenings. Indeed, so well do they discover the fallacy, that I have seen little creatures, who could scarcely speak, play over the same tricks with their doll or the cat. How, then, when the mind comes under discipline, can precepts of truth be inforced, when the first examples they have had would lead them to practice the contrary? MORAL DISCIPLINE. It has been asserted, That no being, merely human, could properly educate a child. I entirely coincide with this author; but though perfection cannot be attained, and unforeseen events will ever govern human conduct, yet still it is our duty to lay down some rule to regulate our actions by, and to adhere to it, as consistently as our infirmities will permit. To be able to follow Mr. Lockes system (and this may be said of almost all treatises on education) the parents must have subdued their own passions, which is not often the case in any considerable degree. The marriage state is too often a state of discord; it does not always happen that both parents are rational, and the weakest have it in their power to do most mischief. How then are the tender minds of children to be cultivated?Mamma is only anxious that they should love her best, and perhaps takes pains to sow those seeds, which have produced such luxuriant weeds in her own mind. Or, what still more frequently occurs, the children are at first made playthings of, and when their tempers have been spoiled by indiscreet indulgence, they become troublesome, and are mostly left with servants; the first notions they imbibe, therefore, are mean and vulgar. They are taught cunning, the wisdom of that class of people, and a love of truth, the foundation of virtue, is soon obliterated from their minds. It is, in my opinion, a wellproved fact, that principles of truth are innate. Without reasoning we assent to many truths; we feel their force, and artful sophistry can only blunt those feelings which nature has implanted in us as instinctive guards to virtue. Dissimulation and cunning will soon drive all other good qualities before them, and deprive the mind of that beautiful simplicity, which can never be too much cherished. Indeed it is of the utmost consequence to make a child artless, or to speak with more propriety, not to teach them to be otherwise; and in order to do so we must keep them out of the way of bad examples. Art is almost always practiced by servants, and the same methods which children observe them to use, to shield themselves from blame, they will adoptand cunning is so nearly allied to falsehood, that it will infallibly lead to itor some foolish prevaricating subterfuge will occur; to silence any reproaches of the mind which may arise, if an attention to truth has been inculcated. Another cause or source of art is injudicious correction. Accidents or giddy tricks are too frequently punished, and if children can conceal these, they will, to avoid chastisement. Restrain them, therefore, but never correct them without a very sufficient cause; such as a violation of truth, cruelty to animals, inferiors, or those kind of follies which lead to vice. Children should be permitted to enter into conversation; but it requires great discernment to find out such subjects as will gradually improve them. Animals are the first objects which catch their attention; and I think little stories about them would not only amuse but instruct at the same time, and have the best effect in forming the temper and cultivating the good dispositions of the heart. There are many little books which have this tendency. One in particular I recollect: The Perambulations of a Mouse. I cannot here help mentioning a book of hymns, in measured prose, written by the ingenious author of many other proper lessons for children. These hymns, I imagine, would contribute to fill the heart with religious sentiments and affections; and, if I may be allowed the expression, make the Deity obvious to the senses. The understanding, however, should not be overloaded any more than the stomach. Intellectual improvements, like the growth and formation of the body, must be gradualyet there is no reason why the mind should lie fallow, while its frail tenement is imperceptibly fitting itself for a more reasonable inhabitant. It will not lie fallow; promiscuous seeds will be sown by accident, and they will shoot up with the wheat, and perhaps never be eradicated. Whenever a child asks a question, it should always have a reasonable answer given it. Its little passions should be engaged. They are mostly fond of stories, and proper ones would improve them even while they are amused. Instead of these, their heads are filled with improbable tales, and superstitious accounts of invisible beings, which breed strange prejudices and vain fears in their minds. The lisp of the nursery is confirmed, and vulgar phrases are acquired; which children, if possible, should never hear. To be able to express the thoughts with facility and propriety, is of great consequence in life, and if children were never led astray in this particular, it would prevent much trouble. The riot too of the kitchen, or any other place where children are left only with servants, makes the decent restraint of the parlour irksome. A girl, who has vivacity, soon grows a romp; and if there are male servants, they go out a walking with them, and will frequently take little freedoms with Miss, the bearing with which gives a forwardness to her air, and makes her pert. The becoming modesty, which being accustomed to converse with superiors, will give a girl, is entirely done away. I must own, I am quite charmed when I see a sweet young creature, shrinking as it were from observation, and listening rather than talking. It is possible a girl may have this manner without having a very good understanding. If it should be so, this diffidence prevents her from being troublesome. It is the duty of a parent to preserve a child from receiving wrong impressions.As to prejudices, the first notions we have deserve that name; for it is not till we begin to waver in our opinions, that we exert our reason to examine themand then, if they are received, they may be called our own. The first things, then, that children ought to be encouraged to observe, are a strict adherence to truth; a proper submission to superiors; and condescension to inferiors. These are the main articles; but there are many others, which compared to them are trivial, and yet are of importance. It is not pleasing to see a child full of bows and grimaces; yet they need not be suffered to be rude. They should be employed, and such fables and tales may be culled out for them as would excite their curiosity. A taste for the beauties of nature should be very early cultivated: many things, with respect to the vegetable and animal world, may be explained in an amusing way; and this is an innocent source of pleasure within every ones reach. Above all, try to teach them to combine their ideas. It is of more use than can be conceived, for a child to learn to compare things that are similar in some respects, and different in others. I wish them to be taught to thinkthinking, indeed, is a severe exercise, and exercise of either mind or body will not at first be entered on, but with a view to pleasure. Not that I would have them make long reflections; for when they do not arise from experience, they are mostly absurd. EXTERIOR ACCOMPLISHMENTS. Under this head may be ranked all those accomplishments which merely render the person attractive; and those halflearnt ones which do not improve the mind. A little learning of any kind is a dangerous thing; and so far from making a person pleasing, it has the contrary effect. Parents have mostly some weighty business in hand, which they make a pretext to themselves for neglecting the arduous task of educating their children; they are therefore sent to school, and the allowance for them is so low, that the person who undertakes the charge must have more than she can possibly attend to; of course, the mechanical parts of education can only be observed. I have known children who could repeat things in the order they learnt them, that were quite at a loss when put out of the beaten track. If the understanding is not exercised, the memory will be employed to little purpose. Girls learn something of music, drawing, and geography; but they do not know enough to engage their attention, and render it an employment of the mind. If they can play over a few tunes to their acquaintance, and have a drawing or two (half done by the master) to hang up in their rooms, they imagine themselves artists for the rest of their lives. It is not the being able to execute a trifling landscape, or any thing of the kind, that is of consequenceThese are at best but trifles, and the foolish, indiscriminate praises which are bestowed on them only produce vanity. But what is really of no importance, when considered in this light, becomes of the utmost, when a girl has a fondness for the art, and a desire of excellence. Whatever tends to make a person in some measure independent of the senses, is a prop to virtue. Amusing employments must first occupy the mind; and as an attention to moral duties leads to piety, so whoever weighs one subject will turn to others, and new ideas will rush into the mind. The faculties will be exercised, and not suffered to sleep, which will give a variety to the character. Dancing and elegance of manners are very pleasing, if too great a stress is not laid on them. These acquirements catch the senses, and open the way to the heart; but unsupported by solid good qualities, their reign is short. The lively thoughtlessness of youth makes every young creature agreeable for the time; but when those years are flown, and sense is not substituted in the stead of vivacity, the follies of youth are acted over, and they never consider, that the things which please in their proper season, disgust out of it. It is very absurd to see a woman, whose brow time has marked with wrinkles, aping the manners of a girl in her teens. I do not think it foreign to the present subject to mention the trifling conversations women are mostly fond of. In general, they are prone to ridicule. As they lay the greatest stress on manners, the most respectable characters will not escape its lash, if deficient in this article. Ridicule has been, with some people, the boasted test of truthif so, our sex ought to make wonderful improvements; but I am apt to think, they often exert this talent till they lose all perception of it themselves. Affectation, and not ignorance, is the fair game for ridicule; and even affectation some goodnatured persons will spare. We should never give pain without a design to amend. Exterior accomplishments are not to be despised, if the acquiring of them does not satisfy the possessors, and prevent their cultivating the more important ones. ARTIFICIAL MANNERS. It may be thought, that artificial manners and exterior accomplishments are much the same; but I think the former take a far wider range, and are materially different. The one arises from affectation, and the other seems only an error in judgment. The emotions of the mind often appear conspicuous in the countenance and manner. These emotions, when they arise from sensibility and virtue, are inexpressibly pleasing. But it is easier to copy the cast of countenance, than to cultivate the virtues which animate and improve it. How many people are like whitened sepulchres, and careful only about appearances! yet if we are too anxious to gain the approbation of the world, we must often forfeit our own. How bewitching is that humble softness of manners which humility gives birth to, and how faint are the imitations of affectation! That gentleness of behaviour, which makes us courteous to all, and that benevolence, which makes us loth to offend any, and studious to please every creature, is sometimes copied by the polite; but how aukward is the copy! The warmest professions of regard are prostituted on all occasions. No distinctions are made, and the esteem which is only due to merit, appears to be lavished on allNay, affection is affected; at least, the language is borrowed, when there is no glow of it in the heart. Civility is due to all, but regard or admiration should never be expressed when it is not felt. As humility gives the most pleasing cast to the countenance, so from sincerity arises that artlessness of manners which is so engaging. She who suffers herself to be seen as she really is, can never be thought affected. She is not solicitous to act a part; her endeavour is not to hide; but correct her failings, and her face has of course that beauty, which an attention to the mind only gives. I never knew a person really ugly, who was not foolish or vicious; and I have seen the most beautiful features deformed by passion and vice. It is true, regular features strike at first; but it is a well ordered mind which occasions those turns of expression in the countenance, which make a lasting impression. Feeling is ridiculous when affected; and even when felt, ought not to be displayed. It will appear if genuine; but when pushed forward to notice, it is obvious vanity has rivalled sorrow, and that the prettiness of the thing is thought of. Let the manners arise from the mind, and let there be no disguise for the genuine emotions of the heart. Things merely ornamental are soon disregarded, and disregard can scarcely be borne when there is no internal support. To have in this uncertain world some stay, which cannot be undermined, is of the utmost consequence; and this stay it is, which gives that dignity to the manners, which shews that a person does not depend on mere human applause for comfort and satisfaction. DRESS. Many able pens have dwelt on the peculiar foibles of our sex. We have been equally desired to avoid the two extremes in dress, and the necessity of cleanliness has been insisted on, As from the bodys purity the mind receives a sympathetic aid. By far too much of a girls time is taken up in dress. This is an exterior accomplishment; but I chose to consider it by itself. The body hides the mind, and it is, in its turn, obscured by the drapery. I hate to see the frame of a picture so glaring, as to catch the eye and divide the attention. Dress ought to adorn the person, and not rival it. It may be simple, elegant, and becoming, without being expensive; and ridiculous fashions disregarded, while singularity is avoided. The beauty of dress (I shall raise astonishment by saying so) is its not being conspicuous one way or the other; when it neither distorts, or hides the human form by unnatural protuberances. If ornaments are much studied, a consciousness of being well dressed will appear in the faceand surely this mean pride does not give much sublimity to it. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. And how much conversation does dress furnish, which surely cannot be very improving or entertaining. It gives rise to envy, and contests for trifling superiority, which do not render a woman very respectable to the other sex. Arts are used to obtain money; and much is squandered away, which if saved for charitable purposes, might alleviate the distress of many poor families, and soften the heart of the girl who entered into such scenes of woe. In the article of dress may be included the whole tribe of beautywashes, cosmetics, Olympian dew, oriental herbs, liquid bloom, and the paint which enlivened Ninons face, and bid defiance to time. These numerous and essential articles are advertised in so ridiculous a style, that the rapid sale of them is a very severe reflection on the understanding of those females who encourage it. The dew and herbs, I imagine, are very harmless, but I do not know whether the same may be said of the paint. White is certainly very prejudicial to the health, and never can be made to resemble nature. The red, too, takes off from the expression of the countenance, and the beautiful glow which modesty, affection, or any other emotion of the mind, gives, can never be seen. It is not a mindillumined face. The body does not charm, because the mind is seen, but just the contrary; and if caught by it a man marries a woman thus disguised, he may chance not to be satisfied with her real person. A madeup face may strike visitors, but will certainly disgust domestic friends. And one obvious inference is drawn, truth is not expected to govern the inhabitant of so artificial a form. The false life with which rouge animates the eyes, is not of the most delicate kind; nor does a womans dressing herself in a way to attract languishing glances, give us the most advantageous opinion of the purity of her mind. I forgot to mention powder among the deceptions. It is a pity that it should be so generally worn. The most beautiful ornament of the features is disguised, and the shade it would give to the countenance entirely lost. The color of every persons hair generally suits the complexion, and is calculated to set it off. What absurdity then do they run into, who use red, blue, and yellow powder!And what a false taste does it exhibit! The quantity of pomatum is often disgusting. We laugh at the Hottentots, and in some things adopt their customs. Simplicity of Dress, and unaffected manners, should go together. They demand respect, and will be admired by people of taste, even when love is out of the question. THE FINE ARTS. Music and painting, and many other ingenious arts, are now brought to great perfection, and afford the most rational and delicate pleasure. It is easy to find out if a young person has a taste for them. If they have, do not suffer it to lie dormant. Heaven kindly bestowed it, and a great blessing it is; but, like all other blessings, may be perverted: yet the intrinsic value is not lessened by the perversion. Should nature have been a niggard to them in this respect, persuade them to be silent, and not feign raptures they do not feel; for nothing can be more ridiculous. In music I prefer expression to execution. The simple melody of some artless airs has often soothed my mind, when it has been harrassed by care; and I have been raised from the very depths of sorrow, by the sublime harmony of some of Handels compositions. I have been lifted above this little scene of grief and care, and mused on Him, from whom all bounty flows. A person must have sense, taste, and sensibility, to render their music interesting. The nimble dance of the fingers may raise wonder, but not delight. As to drawing, those cannot be really charmed by it, who do not observe the beauties of nature, and even admire them. If a person is fond of tracing the effects of the passions, and marking the appearances they give to the countenance, they will be glad to see characters displayed on canvass, and enter into the spirit of them; but if by them the book of nature has not been read, their admiration is childish. Works of fancy are very amusing, if a girl has a lively fancy; but if she makes others do the greatest part of them, and only wishes for the credit of doing them, do not encourage her. Writing may be termed a fine art; and, I am sure, it is a very useful one. The style in particular deserves attention. Young people are very apt to substitute words for sentiments, and clothe mean thoughts in pompous diction. Industry and time are necessary to cure this, and will often do it. Children should be led into correspondences, and methods adopted to make them write down their sentiments, and they should be prevailed on to relate the stories they have read in their own words. Writing well is of great consequence in life as to our temporal interest, and of still more to the mind; as it teaches a person to arrange their thoughts, and digest them. Besides, it forms the only true basis of rational and elegant conversation. Reading, and such arts as have been already mentioned, would fill up the time, and prevent a young persons being lost in dissipation, which enervates the mind, and often leads to improper connections. When habits are fixed, and a character in some measure formed, the entering into the busy world, so far from being dangerous, is useful. Knowledge will imperceptibly be acquired, and the taste improved, if admiration is not more sought for than improvement. For those seldom make observation who are full of themselves. READING. It is an old, but a very true observation, that the human mind must ever be employed. A relish for reading, or any of the fine arts, should be cultivated very early in life; and those who reflect can tell, of what importance it is for the mind to have some resource in itself, and not to be entirely dependant on the senses for employment and amusement. If it unfortunately is so, it must submit to meanness, and often to vice, in order to gratify them. The wisest and best are too much under their influence; and the endeavouring to conquer them, when reason and virtue will not give their sanction, constitutes great part of the warfare of life. What support, then, have they who are all senses, and who are full of schemes, which terminate in temporal objects? Reading is the most rational employment, if people seek food for the understanding, and do not read merely to remember words; or with a view to quote celebrated authors, and retail sentiments they do not understand or feel. Judicious books enlarge the mind and improve the heart, though some, by them, are made coxcombs whom nature meant for fools. Those productions which give a wrong account of the human passions, and the various accidents of life, ought not to be read before the judgment is formed, or at least exercised. Such accounts are one great cause of the affectation of young women. Sensibility is described and praised, and the effects of it represented in a way so different from nature, that those who imitate it must make themselves very ridiculous. A false taste is acquired, and sensible books appear dull and insipid after those superficial performances, which obtain their full end if they can keep the mind in a continual ferment. Gallantry is made the only interesting subject with the novelist; reading, therefore, will often cooperate to make his fair admirers insignificant. I do not mean to recommend books of an abstracted or grave cast. There are in our language many, in which instruction and amusement are blended; the Adventurer is of this kind. I mention this book on account of its beautiful allegories and affecting tales, and similar ones may easily be selected. Reason strikes most forcibly when illustrated by the brilliancy of fancy. The sentiments which are scattered may be observed, and when they are relished, and the mind set to work, it may be allowed to chuse books for itself, for every thing will then instruct. I would have every one try to form an opinion of an author themselves, though modesty may restrain them from mentioning it. Many are so anxious to have the reputation of taste, that they only praise the authors whose merit is indisputable. I am sick of hearing of the sublimity of Milton, the elegance and harmony of Pope, and the original, untaught genius of Shakespear. These cursory remarks are made by some who know nothing of nature, and could not enter into the spirit of those authors, or understand them. A florid style mostly passes with the ignorant for fine writing; many sentences are admired that have no meaning in them, though they contain words of thundering sound, and others that have nothing to recommend them but sweet and musical terminations. Books of theology are not calculated for young persons; religion is best taught by example. The Bible should be read with particular respect, and they should not be taught reading by so sacred a book; lest they might consider that as a task, which ought to be a source of the most exalted satisfaction. It may be observed, that I recommend the minds being put into a proper train, and then left to itself. Fixed rules cannot be given, it must depend on the nature and strength of the understanding; and those who observe it can best tell what kind of cultivation will improve it. The mind is not, cannot be created by the teacher, though it may be cultivated, and its real powers found out. The active spirits of youth may make time glide away without intellectual enjoyments; but when the novelty of the scene is worn off, the want of them will be felt, and nothing else can fill up the void. The mind is confined to the body, and must sink into sensuality; for it has nothing to do but to provide for it, how it shall eat and drink, and wherewithal it shall be clothed. All kinds of refinement have been found fault with for increasing our cares and sorrows; yet surely the contrary effect also arises from them. Taste and thought open many sources of pleasure, which do not depend on fortune. No employment of the mind is a sufficient excuse for neglecting domestic duties, and I cannot conceive that they are incompatible. A woman may fit herself to be the companion and friend of a man of sense, and yet know how to take care of his family. BOARDINGSCHOOLS. If a mother has leisure and good sense, and more than one daughter, I think she could best educate them herself; but as many family reasons render it necessary sometimes to send them from home, boardingschools are fixed on. I must own it is my opinion, that the manners are too much attended to in all schools; and in the nature of things it cannot be otherwise, as the reputation of the house depends upon it, and most people can judge of them. The temper is neglected, the same lessons are taught to all, and some get a smattering of things they have not capacity ever to understand; few things are learnt thoroughly, but many follies contracted, and an immoderate fondness for dress among the rest. To prepare a woman to fulfil the important duties of a wife and mother, are certainly the objects that should be in view during the early period of life; yet accomplishments are most thought of, and they, and allpowerful beauty, generally gain the heart; and as the keeping of it is not considered of until it is lost, they are deemed of the most consequence. A sensible governess cannot attend to the minds of the number she is obliged to have. She may have been many years struggling to get established, and when fortune smiles, does not chuse to lose the opportunity of providing for old age; therefore continues to enlarge her school, with a view to accumulate a competency for that purpose. Domestic concerns cannot possibly be made a part of their employment, or proper conversations often entered on. Improper books will by stealth be introduced, and the bad example of one or two vicious children, in the playhours, infect a number. Their gratitude and tenderness are not called forth in the way they might be by maternal affection. Many miseries does a girl of a mild disposition suffer, which a tender parent could guard her from. I shall not contest about the graces, but the virtues are best learnt at home, if a mother will give up her time and thoughts to the task; but if she cannot, they should be sent to school; for people who do not manage their children well, and have not large fortunes, must leave them often with servants, where they are in danger of still greater corruptions. THE TEMPER. The forming of the temper ought to be the continual thought, and the first task of a parent or teacher. For to speak moderately, half the miseries of life arise from peevishness, or a tyrannical domineering temper. The tender, who are so by nature, or those whom religion has moulded with so heavenly a disposition, give way for the sake of peaceyet still this giving way undermines their domestic comfort, and stops the current of affection; they labor for patience, and labor is ever painful. The governing of our temper is truly the business of our whole lives; but surely it would very much assist us if we were early put into the right road. As it is, when reason gains some strength, she has mountains of rubbish to remove, or perhaps exerts all her powers to justify the errors of folly and passion, rather than root them out. A constant attention to the management of the temper produces gentleness and humility, and is practised on all occasions, as it is not done to be seen of men. This meek spirit arises from good sense and resolution, and should not be confounded with indolence and timidity; weaknesses of mind, which often pass for good nature. She who submits, without conviction, to a parent or husband, will as unreasonably tyrannise over her servants; for slavish fear and tyranny go together. Resentment, indeed, may and will be felt occasionally by the best of human beings; yet humility will soon conquer it, and convert scorn and contempt into pity, and drive out that hasty pride which is always guarding Self from insult; which takes fire on the most trivial occasions, and which will not admit of a superior, or even an equal. With such a temper is often joined that bashful aukwardness which arises from ignorance, and is frequently termed diffidence; but which does not, in my opinion, deserve such a distinction. True humility is not innate, but like every other good quality must be cultivated. Reflections on miscarriages of conduct, and mistakes in opinion, sink it deep into the mind; especially if those miscarriages and mistakes have been a cause of painwhen we smart for our folly we remember it. Few people look into their own hearts, or think of their tempers, though they severely censure others, on whose side they say the fault always lies. Now I am apt to believe, that there is not a temper in the world which does not need correction, and of course attention. Those who are termed goodhumored, are frequently giddy, indolent, and insensible; yet because the society they mix with appear seldom displeased with a person who does not contest, and will laugh off an affront, they imagine themselves pleasing, when they are only not disagreeable. Warm tempers are too easily irritated. The one requires a spur, the other a rein. Health of mind, as well as body, must in general be obtained by patient submission to selfdenial, and disagreeable operations. If the presence of the Deity be inculcated and dwelt on till an habitual reverence is established in the mind, it will check the sallies of anger and sneers of peevishness, which corrode our peace, and render us wretched, without any claim to pity. The wisdom of the Almighty has so ordered things, that one cause produces many effects. While we are looking into anothers mind, and forming their temper, we are insensibly correcting our own; and every act of benevolence which we exert to our fellowcreatures, does ourselves the most essential services. Active virtue fits us for the society of more exalted beings. Our philanthrophy is a proof, we are told, that we are capable of loving our Creator. Indeed this divine love, or charity, appears to me the principal trait that remains of the illustrious image of the Deity, which was originally stampt on the soul, and which is to be renewed. Exalted views will raise the mind above trifling cares, and the many little weaknesses, which make us a torment to ourselves and others. Our temper will gradually improve, and vanity, which the creature is made subject to, has not an entire dominion. But I have digressed. A judicious parent can only manage a child in this important article; and example will best enforce precept. Be careful, however, not to make hypocrites; smothered flames will blaze out with more violence for having been kept down. Expect not to do all yourself; experience must enable the child to assist you; you can only lay the foundation, or prevent bad propensities from settling into habits. UNFORTUNATE SITUATION OF FEMALES, FASHIONABLY EDUCATED, AND LEFT WITHOUT A FORTUNE. I have hitherto only spoken of those females, who will have a provision made for them by their parents. But many who have been well, or at least fashionably educated, are left without a fortune, and if they are not entirely devoid of delicacy, they must frequently remain single. Few are the modes of earning a subsistence, and those very humiliating. Perhaps to be an humble companion to some rich old cousin, or what is still worse, to live with strangers, who are so intolerably tyrannical, that none of their own relations can bear to live with them, though they should even expect a fortune in reversion. It is impossible to enumerate the many hours of anguish such a person must spend. Above the servants, yet considered by them as a spy, and ever reminded of her inferiority when in conversation with the superiors. If she cannot condescend to mean flattery, she has not a chance of being a favorite; and should any of the visitors take notice of her, and she for a moment forget her subordinate state, she is sure to be reminded of it. Painfully sensible of unkindness, she is alive to every thing, and many sarcasms reach her, which were perhaps directed another way. She is alone, shut out from equality and confidence, and the concealed anxiety impairs her constitution; for she must wear a cheerful face, or be dismissed. The being dependant on the caprice of a fellowcreature, though certainly very necessary in this state of discipline, is yet a very bitter corrective, which we would fain shrink from. A teacher at a school is only a kind of upper servant, who has more work than the menial ones. A governess to young ladies is equally disagreeable. It is ten to one if they meet with a reasonable mother; and if she is not so, she will be continually finding fault to prove she is not ignorant, and be displeased if her pupils do not improve, but angry if the proper methods are taken to make them do so. The children treat them with disrespect, and often with insolence. In the mean time life glides away, and the spirits with it; and when youth and genial years are flown, they have nothing to subsist on; or, perhaps, on some extraordinary occasion, some small allowance may be made for them, which is thought a great charity. The few trades which are left, are now gradually falling into the hands of the men, and certainly they are not very respectable. It is hard for a person who has a relish for polished society, to herd with the vulgar, or to condescend to mix with her former equals when she is considered in a different light. What unwelcome heartbreaking knowledge is then poured in on her! I mean a view of the selfishness and depravity of the world; for every other acquirement is a source of pleasure, though they may occasion temporary inconveniences. How cutting is the contempt she meets with!A young mind looks round for love and friendship; but love and friendship fly from poverty: expect them not if you are poor! The mind must then sink into meanness, and accommodate itself to its new state, or dare to be unhappy. Yet I think no reflecting person would give up the experience and improvement they have gained, to have avoided the misfortunes; on the contrary, they are thankfully ranked amongst the choicest blessings of life, when we are not under their immediate pressure. How earnestly does a mind full of sensibility look for disinterested friendship, and long to meet with good unalloyed. When fortune smiles they hug the dear delusion; but dream not that it is one. The painted cloud disappears suddenly, the scene is changed, and what an aching void is left in the heart! a void which only religion can fill upand how few seek this internal comfort! A woman, who has beauty without sentiment, is in great danger of being seduced; and if she has any, cannot guard herself from painful mortifications. It is very disagreeable to keep up a continual reserve with men she has been formerly familiar with; yet if she places confidence, it is ten to one but she is deceived. Few men seriously think of marrying an inferior; and if they have honor enough not to take advantage of the artless tenderness of a woman who loves, and thinks not of the difference of rank, they do not undeceive her until she has anticipated happiness, which, contrasted with her dependant situation, appears delightful. The disappointment is severe; and the heart receives a wound which does not easily admit of a compleat cure, as the good that is missed is not valued according to its real worth: for fancy drew the picture, and grief delights to create food to feed on. If what I have written should be read by parents, who are now going on in thoughtless extravagance, and anxious only that their daughters may be genteelly educated, let them consider to what sorrows they expose them; for I have not overcoloured the picture. Though I warn parents to guard against leaving their daughters to encounter so much misery; yet if a young woman falls into it, she ought not to be discontented. Good must ultimately arise from every thing, to those who look beyond this infancy of their being; and here the comfort of a good conscience is our only stable support. The main business of our lives is to learn to be virtuous; and He who is training us up for immortal bliss, knows best what trials will contribute to make us so; and our resignation and improvement will render us respectable to ourselves, and to that Being, whose approbation is of more value than life itself. It is true, tribulation produces anguish, and we would fain avoid the bitter cup, though convinced its effects would be the most salutary. The Almighty is then the kind parent, who chastens and educates, and indulges us not when it would tend to our hurt. He is compassion itself, and never wounds but to heal, when the ends of correction are answered. LOVE. I think there is not a subject that admits so little of reasoning on as love; nor can rules be laid down that will not appear to lean too much one way or the other. Circumstances must, in a great measure, govern the conduct in this particular; yet who can be a judge in their own case? Perhaps, before they begin to consider the matter, they see through the medium of passion, and its suggestions are often mistaken for those of reason. We can no other way account for the absurd matches we every day have an opportunity of observing; for in this respect, even the most sensible men and women err. A variety of causes will occasion an attachment; an endeavour to supplant another, or being by some accident confined to the society of one person. Many have found themselves entangled in an affair of honor, who only meant to fill up the heavy hours in an amusing way, or raise jealousy in some other bosom. It is a difficult task to write on a subject when our own passions are likely to blind us. Hurried away by our feelings, we are apt to set those things down as general maxims, which only our partial experience gives rise to. Though it is not easy to say how a person should act under the immediate influence of passion, yet they certainly have no excuse who are actuated only by vanity, and deceive by an equivocal behaviour in order to gratify it. There are quite as many male coquets as female, and they are far more pernicious pests to society, as their sphere of action is larger, and they are less exposed to the censure of the world. A smothered sigh, downcast look, and the many other little arts which are played off, may give extreme pain to a sincere, artless woman, though she cannot resent, or complain of, the injury. This kind of trifling, I think, much more inexcusable than inconstancy; and why it is so, appears so obvious, I need not point it out. People of sense and reflection are most apt to have violent and constant passions, and to be preyed on by them. Neither can they, for the sake of present pleasure, bear to act in such a manner, as that the retrospect should fill them with confusion and regret. Perhaps a delicate mind is not susceptible of a greater degree of misery, putting guilt out of the question, than what must arise from the consciousness of loving a person whom their reason does not approve. This, I am persuaded, has often been the case; and the passion must either be rooted out, or the continual allowances and excuses that are made will hurt the mind, and lessen the respect for virtue. Love, unsupported by esteem, must soon expire, or lead to depravity; as, on the contrary, when a worthy person is the object, it is the greatest incentive to improvement, and has the best effect on the manners and temper. We should always try to fix in our minds the rational grounds we have for loving a person, that we may be able to recollect them when we feel disgust or resentment; we should then habitually practise forbearance, and the many petty disputes which interrupt domestic peace would be avoided. A woman cannot reasonably be unhappy, if she is attached to a man of sense and goodness, though he may not be all she could wish. I am very far from thinking love irresistible, and not to be conquered. If weak women go astray, it is they, and not the stars, that are to be blamed. A resolute endeavour will almost always overcome difficulties. I knew a woman very early in life warmly attached to an agreeable man, yet she saw his faults; his principles were unfixed, and his prodigal turn would have obliged her to have restrained every benevolent emotion of her heart. She exerted her influence to improve him, but in vain did she for years try to do it. Convinced of the impossibility, she determined not to marry him, though she was forced to encounter poverty and its attendants. It is too universal a maxim with novelists, that love is felt but once; though it appears to me, that the heart which is capable of receiving an impression at all, and can distinguish, will turn to a new object when the first is found unworthy. I am convinced it is practicable, when a respect for goodness has the first place in the mind, and notions of perfection are not affixed to constancy. Many ladies are delicately miserable, and imagine that they are lamenting the loss of a lover, when they are full of selfapplause, and reflections on their own superior refinement. Painful feelings are prolonged beyond their natural course, to gratify our desire of appearing heroines, and we deceive ourselves as well as others. When any sudden stroke of fate deprives us of those we love, we may not readily get the better of the blow; but when we find we have been led astray by our passions, and that it was our own imaginations which gave the high colouring to the picture, we may be certain time will drive it out of our minds. For we cannot often think of our folly without being displeased with ourselves, and such reflections are quickly banished. Habit and duty will cooperate, and religion may overcome what reason has in vain combated with; but refinement and romance are often confounded, and sensibility, which occasions this kind of inconstancy, is supposed to have the contrary effect. Nothing can more tend to destroy peace of mind, than platonic attachments. They are begun in false refinement, and frequently end in sorrow, if not in guilt. The two extremes often meet, and virtue carried to excess will sometimes lead to the opposite vice. Not that I mean to insinuate that there is no such thing as friendship between persons of different sexes; I am convinced of the contrary, I only mean to observe, that if a womans heart is disengaged, she should not give way to a pleasing delusion, and imagine she will be satisfied with the friendship of a man she admires, and prefers to the rest of the world. The heart is very treacherous, and if we do not guard its first emotions, we shall not afterwards be able to prevent its sighing for impossibilities. If there are any insuperable bars to an union in the common way, try to dismiss the dangerous tenderness, or it will undermine your comfort, and betray you into many errors. To attempt to raise ourselves above human beings is ridiculous; we cannot extirpate our passions, nor is it necessary that we should, though it may be wise sometimes not to stray too near a precipice, lest we fall over before we are aware. We cannot avoid much vexation and sorrow, if we are ever so prudent; it is then the part of wisdom to enjoy those gleams of sunshine which do not endanger our innocence, or lead to repentance. Love gilds all the prospects of life, and though it cannot always exclude apathy, it makes many cares appear trifling. Dean Swift hated the world, and only loved particular persons; yet pride rivalled them. A foolish wish of rising superior to the common wants and desires of the human species made him singular, but not respectable. He sacrificed an amiable woman to his caprice, and made those shun his company who would have been entertained and improved by his conversation, had he loved any one as well as himself. Universal benevolence is the first duty, and we should be careful not to let any passion so engross our thoughts, as to prevent our practising it. After all the dreams of rapture, earthly pleasures will not fill the mind, or support it when they have not the sanction of reason, or are too much depended on. The tumult of passion will subside, and even the pangs of disappointment cease to be felt. But for the wicked there is a worm that never diesa guilty conscience. While that calm satisfaction which resignation produces, which cannot be described, but may be attained, in some degree, by those who try to keep in the strait, though thorny path which leads to bliss, shall sanctify the sorrows, and dignify the character of virtue. MATRIMONY. Early marriages are, in my opinion, a stop to improvement. If we were born only to draw nutrition, propagate and rot, the sooner the end of creation was answered the better: but as women are here allowed to have souls, the soul ought to be attended to. In youth a woman endeavours to please the other sex, in order, generally speaking, to get married, and this endeavour calls forth all her powers. If she has had a tolerable education, the foundation only is laid, for the mind does not soon arrive at maturity, and should not be engrossed by domestic cares before any habits are fixed. The passions also have too much influence over the judgment to suffer it to direct her in this most important affair; and many women, I am persuaded, marry a man before they are twenty, whom they would have rejected some years after. Very frequently, when the education has been neglected, the mind improves itself, if it has leisure for reflection, and experience to reflect on; but how can this happen when they are forced to act before they have had time to think, or find that they are unhappily married? Nay, should they be so fortunate as to get a good husband, they will not set a proper value on him; he will be found much inferior to the lovers described in novels, and their want of knowledge makes them frequently disgusted with the man, when the fault is in human nature. When a womans mind has gained some strength, she will in all probability pay more attention to her actions than a girl can be expected to do; and if she thinks seriously, she will chuse for a companion a man of principle; and this perhaps young people do not sufficiently attend to, or see the necessity of doing. A woman of feeling must be very much hurt if she is obliged to keep her children out of their fathers company, that their morals may not be injured by his conversation; and besides, the whole arduous task of education devolves on her, and in such a case it is not very practicable. Attention to the education of children must be irksome, when life appears to have so many charms, and its pleasures are not found fallacious. Many are but just returned from a boardingschool, when they are placed at the head of a family, and how fit they are to manage it, I leave the judicious to judge. Can they improve a childs understanding, when they are scarcely out of the state of childhood themselves? Dignity of manners, too, and proper reserve are often wanting. The constant attendant on too much familiarity is contempt. Women are often before marriage prudish, and afterwards they think they may innocently give way to fondness, and overwhelm the poor man with it. They think they have a legal right to his affections, and grow remiss in their endeavours to please. There are a thousand nameless decencies which good sense gives rise to, and artless proofs of regard which flow from the heart, and will reach it, if it is not depraved. It has ever occurred to me, that it was sufficient for a woman to receive caresses, and not bestow them. She ought to distinguish between fondness and tenderness. The latter is the sweetest cordial of life; but, like all other cordials, should be reserved for particular occasions; to exhilarate the spirits, when depressed by sickness, or lost in sorrow. Sensibility will best instruct. Some delicacies can never be pointed out or described, though they sink deep into the heart, and render the hours of distress supportable. A woman should have so proper a pride, as not easily to forget a deliberate affront; though she must not too hastily resent any little coolness. We cannot always feel alike, and all are subject to changes of temper without an adequate cause. Reason must often be called in to fill up the vacuums of life; but too many of our sex suffer theirs to lie dormant. A little ridicule and smart turn of expression, often confutes without convincing; and tricks are played off to raise tenderness, even while they are forfeiting esteem. Women are said to be the weaker vessel, and many are the miseries which this weakness brings on them. Men have in some respects very much the advantage. If they have a tolerable understanding, it has a chance to be cultivated. They are forced to see human nature as it is, and are not left to dwell on the pictures of their own imaginations. Nothing, I am sure, calls forth the faculties so much as the being obliged to struggle with the world; and this is not a womans province in a married state. Her sphere of action is not large, and if she is not taught to look into her own heart, how trivial are her occupations and pursuits! What little arts engross and narrow her mind! Cunning fills up the mighty void of sense, and cares, which do not improve the heart or understanding, take up her attention. Of course, she falls a prey to childish anger, and silly capricious humors, which render her rather insignificant than vicious. In a comfortable situation, a cultivated mind is necessary to render a woman contented; and in a miserable one, it is her only consolation. A sensible, delicate woman, who by some strange accident, or mistake, is joined to a fool or a brute, must be wretched beyond all names of wretchedness, if her views are confined to the present scene. Of what importance, then, is intellectual improvement, when our comfort here, and happiness hereafter, depends upon it. Principles of religion should be fixed, and the mind not left to fluctuate in the time of distress, when it can receive succour from no other quarter. The conviction that every thing is working for our good will scarcely produce resignation, when we are deprived of our dearest hopes. How they can be satisfied, who have not this conviction, I cannot conceive; I rather think they will turn to some worldly support, and fall into folly, if not vice. For a little refinement only leads a woman into the wilds of romance, if she is not religious; nay, more, there is no true sentiment without it, nor perhaps any other effectual check to the passions. DESULTORY THOUGHTS. As every kind of domestic concern and family business is properly a womans province, to enable her to discharge her duty she should study the different branches of it. Nothing is more useful in a family than a little knowledge of physic, sufficient to make the mistress of it a judicious nurse. Many a person, who has had a sensible physician to attend them, have been lost for want of the other; for tenderness, without judgment, sometimes does more harm than good. The ignorant imagine there is something very mysterious in the practice of physic. They expect a medicine to work like a charm, and know nothing of the progress and crisis of disorders. The keeping of the patient low appears cruel, all kind of regimen is disregarded, and though the fever rages, they cannot be persuaded not to give them inflammatory food. How (say they) can a person get well without nourishment? The mind, too, should be soothed at the same time; and indeed, whenever it sinks, soothing is, at first, better than reasoning. The slackened nerves are not to be braced by words. When a mind is worried by care, or oppressed by sorrow, it cannot in a moment grow tranquil, and attend to the voice of reason. St. Paul says, No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous; but grievous: nevertheless, afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. It is plain, from these words of the Apostle, and from many other parts of Scripture, that afflictions are necessary to teach us true wisdom, and that in spite of this conviction, men would fain avoid the bitter draught, though certain that the drinking of it would be conducive to the purifying of their hearts. He who made us must know what will tend to our ultimate good; yet still all this is grievous, and the heart will throb with anguish when deprived of what it loves, and the tongue can scarcely faulter out an acquiescence to the Divine Will, when it is so contrary to our own. Due allowance ought then to be made for human infirmities, and the unhappy should be considered as objects of compassion, rather than blame. But in a very different stile does consolatory advice generally run; for instead of pouring oil or wine into the wound, it tends to convince the unfortunate persons that they are weak as well as unhappy. I am apt to imagine, that sorrow and resignation are not incompatible; and that though religion cannot make some disappointments pleasant, it prevents our repining, even while we smart under them. Did our feelings and reason always coincide, our passage through this world could not justly be termed a warfare, and faith would no longer be a virtue. It is our preferring the things that are not seen, to those which are, that proves us to be the heirs of promise. On the sacred word of the Most High, we rely with firm assurance, that the sufferings of the present life will work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; yet still they are allowed to be afflictions, which, though temporary, must still be grievous. The difference between those who sorrow without hope, and those who look up to Heaven, is not that the one feel more than the other, for they may be both equally depressed; but the latter think of the peaceable fruits which are to result from the discipline, and therefore patiently submit. I have almost run into a sermon,and I shall not make an apology for it. Whatever contributes to make us compassionate and resolute, is of the utmost consequence; both these qualities are necessary, if we are confined to a sick chamber. Various are the misfortunes of life, and it may be the lot of most of us to see death in all its terrors, when it attacks a friend; yet even then we must exert our friendship, and try to chear the departing spirit. THE BENEFITS WHICH ARISE FROM DISAPPOINTMENTS. Most women, and men too, have no character at all. Just opinions and virtuous passions appear by starts, and while we are giving way to the love and admiration which those qualities raise, they are quite different creatures. It is reflection which forms habits, and fixes principles indelibly on the heart; without it, the mind is like a wreck drifted about by every squall. The passion that we think most of will soon rival all the rest; it is then in our power, this way, to strengthen our good dispositions, and in some measure to establish a character, which will not depend on every accidental impulse. To be convinced of truths, and yet not to feel or act up to them, is a common thing. Present pleasure drives all before it, and adversity is mercifully sent to force us to think. In the school of adversity we learn knowledge as well as virtue; yet we lament our hard fate, dwell on our disappointments, and never consider that our own wayward minds, and inconsistent hearts, require these needful correctives. Medicines are not sent to persons in health. It is a wellknown remark, that our very wishes give us not our wish. I have often thought it might be set down as a maxim, that the greatest disappointment we can meet with is the gratification of our fondest wishes. But truth is sometimes not pleasant; we turn from it, and doat on an illusion; and if we were not in a probationary state, we should do well to thicken the cloud, rather than dispel it. There are some who delight in observing moral beauty, and their souls sicken when forced to view crimes and follies which could never hurt them. How numerous are the sorrows which reach such bosoms! They may truly be called human creatures; on every side they touch their fellowmortals, and vibrate to the touch. Common humanity points out the important duties of our station; but sensibility (a kind of instinct, strengthened by reflection) can only teach the numberless minute things which give pain or pleasure. A benevolent mind often suffers more than the object it commiserates, and will bear an inconvenience itself to shelter another from it. It makes allowance for failings though it longs to meet perfection, which it seems formed to adore. The Author of all good continually calls himself, a God longsuffering; and those most resemble him who practice forbearance. Love and compassion are the most delightful feelings of the soul, and to exert them to all that breathe is the wish of the benevolent heart. To struggle with ingratitude and selfishness is grating beyond expression: and the sense we have of our weakness, though useful, is not pleasant. Thus it is with us, when we look for happiness, we meet with vexations: and if, now and then, we give way to tenderness, or any of the amiable passions, and taste pleasure, the mind, strained beyond its usual tone, falls into apathy. And yet we were made to be happy! But our passions will not contribute much to our bliss, till they are under the dominion of reason, and till that reason is enlightened and improved. Then sighing will cease, and all tears will be wiped away by that Being, in whose presence there is fulness of joy. A person of tenderness must ever have particular attachments, and ever be disappointed; yet still they must be attached, in spite of human frailty; for if the mind is not kept in motion by either hope or fear, it sinks into the dreadful state beforementioned. I have very often heard it made a subject of ridicule, that when a person is disappointed in this world, they turn to the next. Nothing can be more natural than the transition; and it seems to me the scheme of Providence, that our finding things unsatisfactory here, should force us to think of the better country to which we are going. ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. The management of servants is a great part of the employment of a womans life; and her own temper depends very much on her behaviour to them. Servants are, in general, ignorant and cunning; we must consider their characters, if we would treat them properly, and continually practise forbearance. The same methods we use with children may be adopted with regard to them. Act uniformly, and never find fault without a just cause; and when there is, be positive, but not angry. A mind that is not too much engrossed by trifles, will not be discomposed by every little domestic disaster; and a thinking person can very readily make allowance for those faults which arise from want of reflection and education. I have seen the peace of a whole family disturbed by some trivial, cross accident, and hours spent in useless upbraidings about some mistake which would never have been thought of, but for the consequences that arose from it. An error in judgment or an accident should not be severely reprehended. It is a proof of wisdom to profit by experience, and not lament irremediable evils. A benevolent person must ever wish to see those around them comfortable, and try to be the cause of that comfort. The wide difference which education makes, I should suppose, would prevent familiarity in the way of equality; yet kindness must be shewn, if we are desirous that our domestics should be attached to our interest and persons. How pleasing it is to be attended with a smile of willingness, to be consulted when they are at a loss, and looked up to as a friend and benefactor when they are in distress. It is true we may often meet with ingratitude, but it ought not to discourage us; the refreshing showers of heaven fertilize the fields of the unworthy, as well as the just. We should nurse them in illness, and our superior judgment in those matters would often alleviate their pains. Above all, we owe them a good example. The ceremonials of religion, on their account, should be attended to; as they always reverence them to a superstitious degree, or else neglect them. We should not shock the faith of the meanest fellowcreature; nay more, we should comply with their prejudices; for their religious notions are so overrun with them, that they are not easily separated; and by trying to pluck up the tares, we may root up the wheat with them. The woman who gives way to caprice and illhumour in the kitchen, cannot easily smooth her brow when her husband returns to his fireside; nay, he may not only see the wrinkles of anger, but hear the disputes at secondhand. I heard a Gentleman say, it would break any mans heart to hear his wife argue such a case. Men who are employed about things of consequence, think these affairs more insignificant than they really are; for the warmth with which we engage in any business increases its importance, and our not entering into them has the contrary effect. The behaviour of girls to servants is generally in extremes; too familiar or haughty. Indeed the one often produces the other, as a check, when the freedoms are troublesome. We cannot make our servants wise or good, but we may teach them to be decent and orderly; and order leads to some degree of morality. THE OBSERVANCE OF SUNDAY. The institution of keeping the seventh day holy was wisely ordered by Providence for two purposes. To rest the body, and call off the mind from the too eager pursuit of the shadows of this life, which, I am afraid, often obscure the prospect of futurity, and fix our thoughts on earth. A respect for this ordinance is, I am persuaded, of the utmost consequence to national religion. The vulgar have such a notion of it, that with them, going to church, and being religious, are almost synonymous terms. They are so lost in their senses, that if this day did not continually remind them, they would soon forget that there was a God in the world. Some forms are necessary to support vital religion, and without them it would soon languish, and at last expire. It is unfortunate, that this day is either kept with puritanical exactness, which renders it very irksome, or lost in dissipation and thoughtlessness. Either way is very prejudicial to the minds of children and servants, who ought not to be let run wild, not confined too strictly; and, above all, should not see their parents or masters indulge themselves in things which are generally thought wrong. I am fully persuaded, that servants have such a notion of cardplaying, that whereever it is practised of a Sunday their minds are hurt; and the barrier between good and evil in some measure broken down. Servants, who are accustomed to bodily labour, will fall into as laborious pleasures, if they are not gently restrained, and some substitute found out for them. Such a close attention to a family may appear to many very disagreeable; but the path of duty will be found pleasant after some time; and the passions being employed this way, will, by degrees, come under the subjection of reason. I mean not to be rigid, the obstructions which arise in the way of our duty, do not strike a speculatist; I know, too, that in the moment of action, even a welldisposed mind is often carried away by the present impulse, and that it requires some experience to be able to distinguish the dictates of reason from those of passion. The truth is seldom found out until the tumult is over; we then wake as from a dream, and when we survey what we have done, and feel the folly of it, we might call on reason and say, why sleepest thou? Yet though people are led astray by their passions, and even relapse after the most bitter repentance, they should not despair, but still try to regain the right road, and cultivate such habits as may assist them. I never knew much social virtue to reside in a house where the sabbath was grossly violated. ON THE MISFORTUNE OF FLUCTUATING PRINCIPLES. If we look for any comfort in friendship or society, we must associate with those who have fixed principles with respect to religion; for without them, repeated experience convinces me, the most shining qualities are unstable, and not to be depended on. It has often been a matter of surprise to me, that so few people examine the tenets of the religion they profess, or are christians through conviction. They have no anchor to rest on, nor any fixed chart to direct them in the doubtful voyage of life; how then can they hope to find the haven of rest? But they think not of it, and cannot be expected to forego present advantages. Noble actions must arise from noble thoughts and views; when they are confined to this world, they must be groveling. Faith, with respect to the promise of eternal happiness, can only enable us to combat with our passions, with a chance of victory. There are many who pay no attention to revelation, and more, perhaps, who have not any fixed belief in it. The sure word of comfort is neglected; and how people can live without it, I can scarcely conceive. For as the sun renews the face of nature, and chases away darkness from the world, so does this, still greater blessing, have the same effect on the mind, and enlightens and cheers it when every thing else fails. A true sense of our infirmities is the way to make us christians in the most extensive sense of the word. A mind depressed with a weight of weaknesses can only find comfort in the promises of the Gospel. The assistance there offered must raise the humble soul; and the account of the atonement that has been made, gives a rational ground for resting in hope until the toil of virtue is over, and faith has nothing to be exercised on. It is the fashion now for young men to be deists. And many a one has improper books sent adrift in a sea of doubtsof which there is no end. This is not a land of certainty; there is no confining the wandering reason, and but one clue to prevent its being lost in endless researches. Reason is indeed the heavenlighted lamp in man, and may safely be trusted when not entirely depended on; but when it pretends to discover what is beyond its ken, it certainly stretches the line too far, and runs into absurdity. Some speculations are idle and others hurtful, as they raise pride, and turn the thoughts to subjects that ought to be left unexplored. With love and awe we should think of the High and Lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity! and not presume to say how He must exist who created us. How unfortunate it is, that man must sink into a brute, and not employ his mind, or else, by thinking, grow so proud, as often to imagine himself a superior being! It is not the doubts of profound thinkers that I here allude to, but the crude notions which young men sport away when together, and sometimes in the company of young women, to make them wonder at their superior wisdom! There cannot be any thing more dangerous to a mind, not accustomed to think, than doubts delivered in a ridiculing way. They never go deep enough to solve them, of course they stick by them; and though they might not influence their conduct, if a fear of the world prevents their being guilty of vices, yet their thoughts are not restrained, and they should be observed diligently, For out of them are the issues of life. A nice sense of right and wrong ought to be acquired, and then not only great vices will be avoided, but every little meanness; truth will reign in the inward parts, and mercy will attend her. I have indeed so much compassion for those young females who are entering into the world without fixed principles, that I would fain persuade them to examine a little into the matter. For though in the season of gaiety they may not feel the want of them, in that of distress where will they fly for succour? Even with this support, life is a labor of patiencea conflict; and the utmost we can gain is a small portion of peace, a kind of watchful tranquillity, that is liable to continual interruptions. Then keep each passion down, however dear; Trust me, the tender are the most severe. Guard, while tis thine, thy philosophic ease, And ask no joy but that of virtuous peace; That bids defiance to the storms of fate: High bliss is only for a higher state. THOMSON. BENEVOLENCE. This first, and most amiable virtue, is often found in young persons that afterwards grow selfish; a knowledge of the arts of others, is an excuse to them for practicing the same; and because they have been deceived once, or have found objects unworthy of their charityif any one appeals to their feelings, the formidable word Imposture instantly banishes the compassionate emotions, and silences conscience. I do not mean to confine the exercise of benevolence to almsgiving, though it is a very material part of it. Faith, hope, and charity ought to attend us in our passage through this world; but the two first leave us when we die, while the other is to be the constant inmate of our breast through all eternity. We ought not to suffer the heavenly spark to be quenched by selfishness; if we do, how can we expect it to revive, when the soul is disentangled from the body, and should be prepared for the realms of love? Forbearance and liberality of sentiment are the virtues of maturity. Children should be taught every thing in a positive way; and their own experience can only teach them afterwards to make distinctions and allowances. It is then the inferior part of benevolence that comes within their sphere of action, and it should not be suffered to sleep. Some part of the money that is allowed them for pocketmoney, they should be encouraged to lay out this way, and the shortlived emotions of pity continually retraced till they grow into habits. I knew a child that would, when very young, sit down and cry if it met a poor person, after it had laid out its money in cakes; this occurred once or twice, and the tears were shed with additional distress every time; till at last it resisted the temptation, and saved the money. I think it a very good method for girls to have a certain allowance for cloaths. A mother can easily, without seeming to do it, observe how they spend it, and direct them accordingly. By these means they would learn the value of money, and be obliged to contrive. This would be a practical lesson of conomy superior to all the theories that could be thought of. The having a fixed stipend, too, would enable them to be charitable, in the true sense of the word, as they would then give their own; and by denying themselves little ornaments, and doing their own work, they might increase the sum appropriated to charitable purposes. A lively principle of this kind would also overcome indolence; for I have known people wasteful and penurious at the same time; but the wastefulness was to spare themselves trouble, and others only felt the effects of their penury, to make the balance even. Women too often confine their love and charity to their own families. They fix not in their minds the precedency of moral obligations, or make their feelings give way to duty. Goodwill to all the human race should dwell in our bosoms, nor should love to individuals induce us to violate this first of duties, or make us sacrifice the interest of any fellowcreature, to promote that of another, whom we happen to be more partial to. A parent, under distressed circumstances, should be supported, even though it should prevent our saving a fortune for a child; nay more, should they be both in distress at the same time, the prior obligation should be first discharged. Under this head may be included the treatment of animals. Over them many children tyrannize with impunity; and find amusement in tormenting, or wantonly killing, any insect that comes in their way, though it does them no injury. I am persuaded, if they were told stories of them, and led to take an interest in their welfare and occupations, they would be tender to them; as it is, they think man the only thing of consequence in the creation. I once prevented a girls killing ants, for sport, by adapting Mr. Addisons account of them to her understanding. Ever after she was careful not to tread on them, lest she should distress the whole community. Stories of insects and animals are the first that should rouse the childish passions, and exercise humanity; and then they will rise to man, and from him to his Maker. CARDPLAYING. Cardplaying is now the constant amusement, I may say employment, of young and old, in genteel life. After all the fatigue of the toilet, blooming girls are set down to cardtables, and the most unpleasing passions called forth. Avarice does not wait for grey hairs and wrinkles, but marks a countenance where the loves and graces ought to revel. The hours that should be spent in improving the mind, or in innocent mirth, are thus thrown away; and if the stake is not considerable enough to rouse the passions, lost in insipidity, and a habit acquired which may lead to serious mischief. Not to talk of gaming, many people play for more than they can well afford to lose, and this sours their temper. Cards are the universal refuge to which the idle and the ignorant resort, to pass life away, and to keep their inactive souls awake, by the tumult of hope and fear. Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid pause with finer joy; Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. And, of course, this is their favourite amusement. Silent, stupid attention appears necessary; and too frequently little arts are practised which debase the character, and at best give it a trifling turn. Certainly nothing can be more absurd than permitting girls to acquire a fondness for cards. In youth the imagination is lively, and novelty gives charms to every scene; pleasure almost obtrudes itself, and the pliable mind and warm affections are easily wrought on. They want not those resources, which even respectable and sensible persons sometimes find necessary, when they see life, as it is unsatisfactory, and cannot anticipate pleasures, which they know will fade when nearly viewed. Youth is the season of activity, and should not be lost in listlessness. Knowledge ought to be acquired, a laudable ambition encouraged; and even the errors of passion may produce useful experience, expand the faculties, and teach them to know their own hearts. The most shining abilities, and the most amiable dispositions of the mind, require culture, and a proper situation, not only to ripen and improve them, but to guard them against the perversions of vice, and the contagious influence of bad examples. THE THEATRE. The amusements which this place afford are generally supposed the most rational, and are really so to a cultivated mind; yet one that is not quite formed may learn affectation at the theatre. Many of our admired tragedies are too full of declamation, and a false display of the passions. A heroine is often made to grieve ten or twenty years, and yet the unabated sorrow has not given her cheeks a pallid hue; she still inspires the most violent passion in every beholder, and her own yields not to time. The prominent features of a passion are easily copied, while the more delicate touches are overlooked. That start of Cordelias, when her father says, I think that Lady is my daughter, has affected me beyond measure, when I could unmoved hear Calista describe the cave in which she would live Until her tears had washed her guilt away. The principal characters are too frequently made to rise above human nature, or sink below it; and this occasions many false conclusions. The chief use of dramatic performances should be to teach us to discriminate characters; but if we rest in separating the good from the bad, we are very superficial observers. May I venture a conjecture?I cannot help thinking, that every human creature has some spark of goodness, which their longsuffering and benevolent Father gives them an opportunity of improving, though they may perversely smother it before they cease to breathe. Death is treated in too slight a manner; and sought, when disappointments occur, with a degree of impatience, which proves that the main end of life has not been considered. That fearful punishment of sin, and convulsion of nature, is too often exposed to public view. Until very lately I never had the courage even to look at a person dying on the stage. The hour of death is not the time for the display of passions; nor do I think it natural it should: the mind is then dreadfully disturbed, and the trifling sorrows of this world not thought of. The deaths on the stage, in spite of the boasted sensibility of the age, seem to have much the same effect on a polite audience, as the execution of malefactors has on the mob that follow them to Tyburn. The worst species of immorality is inculcated, and life (which is to determine the fate of eternity) thrown away when a kingdom or mistress is lost. Patience and submission to the will of Heaven, and those virtues which render us useful to society, are not brought forward to view; nor can they occasion those surprising turns of fortune which most delight vulgar minds. The almost imperceptible progress of the passions, which Shakespeare has so finely delineated, are not sufficiently observed, though the start of the actor is applauded. Few tragedies, I think, will please a person of discernment, and their sensibility is sure to be hurt. Young persons, who are happily situated, do well to enter into fictitious distress; and if they have any judicious person to direct their judgment, it may be improved while their hearts are melted. Yet I would not have them confine their compassion to the distresses occasioned by love; and perhaps their feelings might more profitably be roused, if they were to see sometimes the complicated, misery of sickness and poverty, and weep for the beggar instead of the king. Comedy is not now so censurable as it was some years ago; and a chaste ear is not often shocked with indecencies. When follies are pointed out, and vanity ridiculed, it may be very improving; and perhaps the stage is the only place where ridicule is useful. What I have said is certainly only applicable to those who go to see the play, and not to shew themselves and waste time. The most insignificant amusement will afford instruction to thinking minds, and the most rational will be lost on a vacant one. Remarks on the actors are frequently very tiresome. It is a fashionable topic, and a threadbare one; it requires great abilities, and a knowledge of nature, to be a competent judge; and those who do not enter into the spirit of the author, are not qualified to converse with confidence on the subject. PUBLIC PLACES. Under this head I rank all those places, which are open to an indiscriminate resort of company. There seems at present such a rage for pleasure, that when adversity does not call home the thoughts, the whole day is mostly spent in preparations and plans, or in actual dissipation. Solitude appears insupportable, and domestic comfort stupid. And though the amusements may not always be relished, the mind is so enervated it cannot exert itself to find out any other substitute. An immoderate fondness for dress is acquired, and many fashionable females spend half the night in going from one place to another to display their finery, repeat commonplace compliments, and raise envy in their acquaintance whom they endeavour to outshine. Women, who are engaged in those scenes, must spend more time in dress than they ought to do, and it will occupy their thoughts when they should be better employed. In the fine Lady how few traits do we observe of those affections which dignify human nature! If she has any maternal tenderness, it is of a childish kind. We cannot be too careful not to verge on this character; though she lives many years she is still a child in understanding, and of so little use to society, that her death would scarcely be observed. Dissipation leads to poverty, which cannot be patiently borne by those who have lived on the vain applause of others, on account of outward advantages; these were the things they imagined of most consequence, and of course they are tormented with false shame, when by a reverse of fortune they are deprived of them. A young innocent girl, when she first enters into gay scenes, finds her spirits so raised by them, that she would often be lost in delight, if she was not checked by observing the behaviour of a class of females who attend those places. What a painful train of reflections do then arise in the mind, and convictions of the vice and folly of the world are prematurely forced on it. It is no longer a paradise, for innocence is not there; the taint of vice poisons every enjoyment, and affectation, though despised, is very contagious. If these reflections do not occur, languor follows the extraordinary exertions, and weak minds fall a prey to imaginary distress, to banish which they are obliged to take as a remedy what produced the disease. We talk of amusements unbending the mind; so they ought; yet even in the hours of relaxation we are acquiring habits. A mind accustomed to observe can never be quite idle, and will catch improvement on all occasions. Our pursuits and pleasures should have the same tendency, and every thing concur to prepare us for a state of purity and happiness. There vice and folly will not poison our pleasures; our faculties will expand; and not mistake their objects; and we shall no longer see as through a glass darkly, but know, even as we are known. FINIS.  TRANSCRIBERS NOTES 1. P. 97, changed is was sufficient to it was sufficient. 2. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 3. Retained archaic, nonstandard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 4. Enclosed italics font in underscores. 5. Denoted superscripts by a caret before a single superscript character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in curly braces, e.g. Mr. or Mister. TRADE AND A DESCRIPTION OF SOME PART OF THE COAST OF GUINEA, DURING A VOYAGE, MADE IN 1787, AND 1788, IN COMPANY WITH DOCTOR A. SPARRMAN AND CAPTAIN ARREHENIUS  TRANSCRIBERS NOTE Italic text is denoted by underscores. The original text used the character  (longform s); these have been replaced by the normal s in this etext. Footnote anchors are denoted by number, and the footnotes have been placed at the end of the book. Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book. OBSERVATIONS ON THE SLAVE TRADE, AND A DESCRIPTION Of some Part of the COAST of GUINEA, DURING A VOYAGE, Made in 1787, and 1788, in Company with Doctor A. SPARRMAN and Captain ARREHENIUS, BY C. B. WADSTROM, Chief Director of the Royal Assay and Refining Office; Member of the Royal Chamber of Commerce, and of the Royal Patriotic Society, for Improving Agriculture, Manufactures, and Commerce in Sweden. LONDON: Printed and Sold by JAMES PHILLIPS, GeorgeYard, LombardStreet, 1789. PREFACE. In communicating to the publick the result of my observations lately made in a voyage to the Coast of Guinea, with two of my countrymen, it is not my intention, without sufficient reason, to add to the number of publications which have lately enlightened Europe, on a subject so deserving her attention, and in the impartial investigation of which she is so zealously employed. Animated with a desire of defending the cause of suffering humanity, I have no other end in view, than that of contributing some small assistance to the well concerted plans of others, by making known what my own experience has dictated; in a word, to relate what I have seen, and to shew, without vain pretences, what my ideas are, on a plan so well calculated to expand every heart that is now cherishing a hope for its success. As the subject has been so amply treated, my readers will not expect to find novelty in every part of this tract; but having been so fortunately situated, as to be enabled fully to inform myself of the nature of the slave trade; of the manner in which the negroes are treated by the Europeans; but more particularly of the possibility of improving, by cultivation, the fruitful soil of Africa, it shall be my endeavour to treat these important subjects in a manner interesting and new. In the presence of the two most respectable nations of Europe, would I were endowed with powers to represent in colours sufficiently striking, the frightful picture I have formed to myself, of the abovementioned traffick, and thereby to prove, that these detestable markets for human flesh, constitute the last stage of all false principles; the greatest of all abuses; the inversion of all order; and originate solely in that corrupted system of commerce, which pervades every civilized nation at this day. In fact, when the principles of commerce had been once diverted from the noble end of its institution, an institution which promoted the free circulation of commodities, the increase of knowledge, and the wealth and prosperity of nations, and when the spirit of selfinterest and monopoly first perverted it from this universal end, which ought ever to have been kept in view, and confined it to particular nations, following insensibly the steps of its degradation, it became the mercenary object of individuals, separate from the general good; could it then be a matter of surprize, that it should ultimately become so debased, as to regard man himself as a merchandise? This detestable abuse may be considered as proceeding from a degenerate love of dominion, and of possessing the property of others; which, instead of diffusing the genial influence of benevolence and liberty, produces, in their state of inversion, all the horrors of tyranny and slavery. Persuaded that the moment is now arrived, when mankind will begin to make a real use of their great scientific acquirements, and of the multiplicity of their discoveries; persuaded that the evil, which begins to infect mankind, has no other basis than the execrable traffic, which is at this day so generally carried on at the expence of human liberty; and convinced at the same time, of the existence of a Providence, which directs all things according to the universal end it proposes in its impenetrable decrees, and that we are but instruments, by whom it executes its great designs; convinced, I say, of all these important truths, and inflamed with an ardent desire of assisting in the execution of this great and noble attempt, I am not only ready to devote my own person in this cause, but also to excite all those in whose breast there still remains a spark of humanity, to unite with prudence and activity, to accomplish this grand work, which has for its end the extermination of every evil and false principle, preparing the way for the reception of Goodness and Truth, in every human society. When I reflect on the importance, the extent, and the grandeur of this subject, it gives me pain in being obliged to treat it in so hasty and incorrect a manner; but pressed for time, I trust my candid readers will receive these few hints in good part, allowing for the necessity of their appearing at this critical moment, when all the great societies of Europe are so strongly interesting themselves in the tender cause of humanity, laudably vying with each other in the honour of pleading at the bar of human sensibility, in favour of the most oppressed nations in the universe. It may be expedient here to inform my readers, that I intend to publish a more circumstantial account of my voyage to the Coast of Guinea, when opportunity is afforded to prepare it for publick inspection; wherein I propose to treat more fully on the geographical description of the country, on the manners, laws, and customs of the different nations which inhabit those shores; moreover, to treat concerning the commerce now carried on, but more particularly, on that which may hereafter be established with very great advantage. I also reserve to myself the satisfaction then of informing the publick, who was the august promoter of the enterprise I undertook, in concert with my two respectable countrymen, and with what humanity France concurred with him in assisting us to perform the voyage. How providentially I was led to make observations on a subject (I mean the abolition of the slave trade) which could only have been undertaken by a nation of such a character and power as that which I have now the honour to address! In exposing to the world the atrocious acts committed in that part of the globe to which I have been eyewitness, it is not improbable, that both the nations and individuals who have countenanced them, may consider the writer in the light of a spy, and a divulger of those things which ought, in honour, to have been buried in silence. But if they can find no other appellation for the just and pure intentions of a friend to mankind, who dares to expose crimes and cruelties which the abusers of human right are guilty of, he then accounts it an honour in discharging the duty he owes to society, to be esteemed as such. But let it be well observed, that herein he speaks from a respect due only to truth, with a view to expose Wickedness and Falsehood, but not Nations or Individuals. CONTENTS. SECT. I. On the Mode of procuring Slaves. Chap. I. WAR Page 1 Chap. II. PILLAGE 7 Chap. III. Of ROBBERY 17 Chap. IV. TREACHERY or STRATAGEM 22 SECT. II. Of the Manner in which the Negroes are treated by the Europeans. Chap. I. Negroes considered as TRADERS 26 Chap. II. Negroes considered as SLAVES 28 SECT. III. Whether the Negroes are naturally inclined to Industry. Chap. I. In FOREIGN COUNTRIES 31 Chap. II. In THEIR OWN COUNTRY 31 SECT. IV. Description of the Coast. Chap. I. CLIMATE 36 Chap. II. Of the SOIL 39 Chap. III. The PRODUCTIONS 40 Animal 40 Vegetable 42 Mineral 45 SECT. V. Of the Impediments which will oppose the European Settlements on the Coast of Guinea. Chap. I. FALSE OPINIONS 46 Chap. II. Of the DISEASES 50 Chap. III. Of MUSKETOES 51 Chap. IV. Of THORNS and THISTLES 52 SECT. VI. REFLECTIONS 53 Illustration: (Decorative banner) OBSERVATIONS ON THE SLAVE TRADE, c. SECT. I. On the Mode of procuring Slaves. CHAP. I. WAR. Among the various sources, from whence the Europeans are supplied with slaves on the coast of Africa, I shall first reckon that of War. The Wars which the inhabitants of the interior parts of the country, beyond Senegal, Gambia, and Sierra Leona, carry on with each other, are chiefly of a predatory nature, and owe their origin to the yearly number of slaves, which the Mandingoes, or the inland traders suppose will be wanted by the vessels that will arrive on their coast. Indeed these predatory incursions depend so much on the demand for slaves, that if in any one year there be a greater concourse of European ships than usual, it is observed that a much greater number of captives from the interior parts of the country is brought to market the next. The unhappy captives, many of whom are people of distinction, such as princes, priests, and persons high in office, are conducted by the Mandingoes in droves of twenty, thirty, or forty, chained together, either to Fort St. Joseph on the river Senegal, or Niger, in the country of Gallam, or to places near the river Gambia. But when the trade with the French on the river Senegal happens to be stopped, (which was the case in 1787) they bring all their captives to the mouth of the Gambia, Sierra Leona, and other places down the coast. These Mandingoes perform the whole journey, except at certain seasons of the year, when they are met by the traders belonging to the coast, who receive the slaves from them, and give them the usual articles of merchandize in exchange. What I have hitherto said, was taken from the best accounts I could collect both from the black and white traders, during my residence upon the coast. It is proper, however, that I should state something on this head, that has come within my own knowledge. The Moors, who inhabit the countries on the north of the River Senegal, are particularly infamous for these predatory Wars. They cross the river, and attacking the negroes, bring many of them off. There are not a few who subsist by means of these unprovoked excursions. The French, to encourage them in it, make annual presents to the Moorish kings. These are given them under certain conditions, first, that their subjects shall not carry any of their gum to the English at Portendic; and, secondly, that they shall be ready, on all occasions, to furnish slaves. To enable them to fulfil this last article, they never fail to supply them with ammunition, guns, and other instruments of War. To confirm what I have now said, I shall put down the following example: The king of Almammy had, in the year 1787, very much to his honour, enacted a law, that no slave whatever should be marched through his territories. At this time several French vessels lay at anchor in the Senegal, waiting for slaves. The route of the black traders in consequence of this edict of the king, was stopped, and the slaves carried to other parts. The French, unable on this account to complete their cargoes, remonstrated with the king. He was, however, very unpropitious to their representations, for he returned the presents which had been sent him by the Senegal company, of which I myself was a witness; declaring, at the same time, that all the riches of that company should not divert him from his design. In this situation of affairs, the French were obliged to have recourse to their old friends, the Moors. These, who had before shewn themselves so ready on such occasions, were no less ready and active on this. They set off in parties to surprise the unoffending negroes, and to carry among them all the calamities of War. Many unfortunate prisoners were sent, and for some time continued to be sent in. I was once curious enough to wish to see some of those that had just arrived. I applied to the Director of the company, who conducted me to the slaveprisons. I there saw the unfortunate captives, chained two and two together, by the foot. The mangled bodies of several of them, whose wounds were still bleeding, exhibited a most shocking spectacle; and their situation may be much easier conceived than described. The Director of the company, however, used his best endeavors to console them. This is a specifick instance, clearly shewing that one War at least was undertaken for the sole purpose of procuring slaves. I cannot, however, help observing, that if no such instance as this had come within my knowledge during my stay in those parts, I should yet have thought myself justifiable in supposing, that the Wars among the negroes originated in the slave trade. For in all the observations I have been able to make (and I went to the coast of Africa, not with any commercial views, but for the sole purpose of inquiry and observation) I have ever considered the negroes as a quiet, inoffensive people, happy in themselves, and in one another, enjoying the comforts of life, without the intervention of toil and trouble. If, therefore, I had found Wars among a people of such dispositions, and so situated as to have no motive for them, I should certainly have set them down, as having been excited for some diabolical purpose, and for none so likely as for the prosecution of the slave trade. CHAP. II. PILLAGE. A second source, from whence the Europeans are supplied with slaves on the coast of Africa, is Pillage, which is of two kinds; publick or private. It is publick, when practiced by the direction of the kings, private, when practiced by individuals. I must also make a further distinction, namely, as it is practiced by the blacks and the whites. This last I call Robbery, which will be the subject of the next article. The publick Pillage is, of all others, the most plentiful source, from which the slave trade derives its continuance and support. The kings of Africa (I mean in that part of the country which I have visited) incited by the merchandize shewn them, which consists principally of strong liquors, give orders to their military to attack their own villages in the night. Saturday night is particularly fixed upon for this purpose, being esteemed the most lucky for expeditions of this kind. However, when slaves are wanted in haste, no night is deemed so inauspicious as to prevent an attempt. As I have been myself an eyewitness to several of these nocturnal expeditions, it will, perhaps, be better to illustrate this kind of Pillage by some examples. The French make presents to the negro as well as the Moorish kings. It happened when I was at Goree, that an ambassador was to be sent from thence to the king of Barbesin on this errand. I obtained leave with my fellowtravellers to accompany the embassy. We accordingly set out, and arrived at Joal, a place where the king resides at particular times of the year, viz. when the trading vessels arrive there. It is usual, on the receipt of these presents, to send back a number of slaves in return. It so happened, however, that the king of Barbesin had no slaves in his possession at that time. This circumstance it was, that afforded me an opportunity of seeing the expeditions before mentioned. We resided, I believe, about a week at Joal. During our residence there, the Pillage, of which I have been speaking, was attempted almost every night. The following is a description of the persons concerned in it, and of their various success. There were several parties of the military, assembled at six in the evening, or about dusk. Each party consisted of about ten or twelve. A large horsemans musket was rested on each of their saddles, in the same manner as those of the English heavy cavalry. On their shoulders were suspended a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. Thus equipped, they went to different villages belonging to the king, and returned usually about five in the morning, or a little before daylight. In some of their attempts they returned without a single slave. In others they were more successful. At one time in particular they came back with but one captive. This was a beautiful young negress, from one of the kings own villages. She was immediately delivered, notwithstanding her tears and cries, to the French ambassador, whom we accompanied, and, by his order, was carried on board. It was fortunate however for her, that she belonged to one of those families, which, in consequence of their birth, are exempted by the laws of the country from slavery. This occasioned a commotion; for the auction appeared to the minds of the people, to be so unjust and repugnant to the established laws, that they were nearly on the point of rebelling. The king, when he came to his senses (for he had given his orders respecting the seizure of this girl in a state of intoxication) saw in so lively a manner the consequences of this rash proceeding, that with the most abject submission, he descended to prayers and intreaties with the owner, to return the innocent and unfortunate girl. The Frenchman, though surrounded by more than two thousand negroes at the time, and though the embassy, including myself and fellowtravellers, consisted but of five white people, was so madly obstinate, as for a long time to refuse his request; I say madly, because in all the adventures of my life, I had never so much reason to be alarmed for the preservation of it. At length, after much intreaty, the king promised him two others in exchange, whom he expected to seize on a future expedition; and thus was the unhappy girl restored to her disconsolate family. At another time, the military, who had been sent out to Pillage, returned with several captives. These consisted of men, women, and children. The men, as they were brought in, exhibited marks of great dejection. One of them, however, appeared to be quite frantick with grief. He beseeched his captors, with great fervency, that they would not tear him from his wife and children. The women, on the other hand, vented their sorrow in shrieks and lamentations. The children, in a state of palpitation, clung to their mothers breasts. Their little eyes were so swelled with crying, that they could cry no more. During all this time, the captors, to shew their joy on the occasion, and to drown the cries of their unfortunate fellowsubjects, were beating large drums. To this was added, all the noise that could be collected from the blowing of horns, and the human voice. Taking in the shrieks and agony of the one, and the shouts and joy of the other, with the concomitant instruments of noise, I was never before witness to such an infernal scene. What I have said of the king of Barbesins conduct with respect to the mode of procuring slaves, is equally applicable to those other kings of the country, of whom I have any knowledge. King Damel, whose dominions lie between Portudal and Senegal, wanting a slave to deliver in exchange for some goods he had bargained for with a Goree trader, ordered his soldiers to seize on one of his own subjects. Finding a woman (whose husband was absent) in a hut with her children, they seized her, bound her, and tore her from her babes, who were rejected, as not being able to perform the journey down to the shore. The king of Sallum, though he never tastes any spirituous liquors, has recourse to the same practice, as if by the common consent of the kings of Africa, these were the measures to be invariably pursued. The articles, most in demand with this king, are Spanish dollars, and Dutch gourds. Both these he causes to be melted down, and then to be worked into chains, bracelets, and other ornaments for himself and his favourites. Having fixed an extraordinary value upon these, he will at any time depopulate a village to obtain them. Such are the effects of avarice, when it has the power of gratification. The vessels employed in the trade to Sallum, by the mulattoes of Goree, are generally sloops. With these they go up the river, and arrive in about three days. Their stay there is very uncertain. It is in general from one to four weeks, according as the king is successful or not in those Pillages which he attempts for the sake of procuring slaves. When the traders have completed their cargoes, they return to Goree, where they deliver them, in about eight days. The slaves, so delivered, are shipped off, by the first opportunity, to the French colonies. In speaking of these sloops, I cannot refrain from mentioning an instance which came under my own eye. A trading mulattoe of Goree, whose name was Martin, had obtained from the king of Sallum, by means of the publick Pillage before described, a sloop full of captives. The greater part of them were women and children. Notwithstanding this, they had been thrown into the sloop as if they had been articles of lumber, and devoid of feeling. Obliged, moreover, from too close a stowage, to lie on the inequalities and protuberances of the bare planks, without being able to change their position, they had in the course only of eight days (which I stated to be the time of the passage from Sallum to Goree) been very materially hurt: for, when I saw them brought out of the sloop, they had several contusions on various parts of their bodies, and in others their flesh was severely cut. A poor child in particular, about two years old, had a very deep wound in his side, made in the manner above stated. He lay afterwards, upon being landed, with the wound contiguous to the ground, so that the sand getting into it, put him to exquisite pain. I mention this instance, only to give an idea of what are thought to be rooms of accommodation for slaves, and of that inhumanity, which naturally springs out of the prosecution of this trade. Before I close my account of the publick Pillage, I must not forget to mention, that the kings of those parts, (except the king of Sallum) never openly profess the right, which they thus unjustly usurp over the lives and liberties of their subjects. For this reason they plan their expeditions in such a manner, that they must arrive at the place they intend to Pillage, in the dead of the night. It is impossible, therefore, for their subjects, in such a case, to discover who are the instruments of those acts of violence; and they may with greater reason suppose, that they were perpetrated by a roving banditti, than by the direction of their own kings. I come now to the private Pillage. This is practiced by individuals, who, tempted by the merchandize brought by the Europeans, lie in wait for one another. For this purpose they beset the roads, and other places, so that a travelling negro can hardly ever escape them. To enumerate the many instances of this private depredation that happen, would be an endless task. I shall therefore select but one, which, on account of the circumstances that followed, may strike the reader as singular. A Moor had seized a free negro, and, having secured him, he brought him to Senegal, and sold him to the company. A few days afterwards this moor was taken by some negroes in the same manner, and brought to be sold in his turn. The company seldom buy moors: but as they were obliged, in consequence of their privileges, to supply the colony of Cayenne with a certain number of slaves, and as several ships then in the road, in consequence of the king of Almammys edict, as before related, could not complete their cargoes, they made the less scruple to buy him on this occasion. Chance so directed, that the moor, after he had been purchased, was carried on board the same ship, in which the negro lay. They no sooner met, than a quarrel took place between them, which occasioned, for some days, a great tumult in the vessel. Such rencounters frequently happen in the slaveships, and the uproars, occasioned by them, are seldom or never quieted, till some mischief has been done. CHAP. III. Of ROBBERY. I have been hitherto describing the Pillage, as it is either publick or private. I have also considered it as practiced by the blacks upon one another. I come now to speak of it, as it is practiced upon these by the whites; and this I call Robbery. It is too well known, at least on some parts of the coast, that the Europeans have not failed, when opportunity presented itself, to seize the unsuspicious natives of Africa, and to carry them by force to their own colonies. This is usually practiced by the Europeans, where they have no settlements; so that the fact generally escapes the notice of their countrymen; I mean principally up the rivers, where they have ventured to penetrate for the purpose of a more advantageous trade. At such places, they compel the negroes to deliver them hostages, whom they keep on board. The truce being concluded, the unsuspicious natives embark with confidence, and repeatedly visit the vessel without any kind of suspicion or fear. But, if the wind should be at all favourable, none of the European monsters, who are engaged in this trade, scruple to set sail, and to carry away not only the free negroes, who have come on board to trade, but the hostages also, in defiance of the law of nations and common honesty. These transactions are not only iniquitous in themselves, and therefore derogatory from the character of a civilized nation, but are often so fatal in their consequences, that those, who perpetrate them, have a claim to the appellation of devils rather than men. For it may easily be supposed, that the relations and friends of those, who have been thus fraudulently carried off, will spare no pains to retaliate. This is generally the case. The next ship that visits the coast, is perhaps cut off. Thus, to a villainous action, is superadded the guilt of becoming instrumental to the murder perhaps of their own countrymen, and at any rate of occasioning the innocent to undergo the punishment of the guilty. When I was at Goree, in the year 1787, accounts came down by some French merchantmen from the Gambia of the following particulars. The captain of an English ship, which had been some time in that river, had enticed several of the natives on board, and, finding a favourable opportunity, sailed away with them. His vessel however was, by the direction of Providence, driven back to the coast from whence it had set sail, and was obliged to cast anchor on the very spot where this act of treachery had been committed. At this time two other English vessels were lying in the same river. The natives, ever since the transaction, had determined to retaliate. They happened, at this juncture, to be prepared. They accordingly boarded the three vessels, and, having made themselves masters of them, they killed most of their crews. The few who escaped to tell the tale, were obliged to take refuge in a neighbouring French factory. Thus did the innocent suffer the same punishment as the guilty; for it did not appear that the crews of the other two vessels had been at all concerned in this villainous measure. These particulars, as I observed before, had found their way down to us at Goree, and, from the channels through which they came, I had no reason to question their truth. It is remarkable, however, that, though I wanted no confirmation of them in my own mind, yet, since my arrival in London, I have heard them fully substantiated: for I dined lately by accident with a certain underwriter, to whom undesignedly relating the time, place, and other circumstances of this transaction, I found that I had only been describing the fate of certain vessels, which, to his knowledge, had been cut off in the same part of the world, and at the same season. CHAP. IV. Of TREACHERY or STRATAGEM. The various other ways in which slaves are obtained, may be included under the words Treachery or Stratagem, being only so many different modes of the same practice. One or two instances will, I hope, suffice, as I do not wish to take up the readers time more than is necessary, and as he will be enabled by them to judge of the rest. Besides, the stratagems which the traders daily practise to get slaves, are so numerous, that it would take a volume to recount them. A French merchant of Goree landing at a village, observed an handsome wellmade negro. He immediately made application to the chief of the village to seize him. On the proposal of the chief, the people unanimously agreed to grant his request: for it is a law in those parts, that if all the village consent, any visitor residing among them may be made a slave. To gain the consent of a whole village on such an occasion, is by no means difficult. The Africans in general, like other people in the same unimproved state, are governed by their passions, and the prince has only to distribute a sufficient quantity of spirituous liquors among them to produce the effect he wishes for. Such was the case in the present instance; and the unfortunate negro, though he was their neighbour and visitor, was taken and sent into slavery. His wife, having heard of his capture, came down bathed in tears. She begged to be bought, that she might go with him, and share his fate. But the dealer who bought him, had probably no goods at the time, and her intreaties were ineffectual. The king of Sallum, under pretence of wanting millet, enticed from a neighbouring village a negress, who had a quantity to dispose of. Elated with the prospect of selling it to advantage, she did not consider the imprudence of the step she was about to take. She accordingly went to the king, who not only immediately deprived her of her millet, but seized her, and sold her for a slave. I cannot close my account of the different methods daily practised to obtain slaves, without giving an instance, that will shew, in a very glaring light, the bad tendency of the slave trade, and the baneful effects it produces on the human heart. One of the Moorish kings had received from the director of the company of Senegal, the predecessor of him who now occupies that post, the usual presents, in consequence of which he was bound to procure slaves. Having been rather dilatory in the performance of his engagement, he was applied to by the director, who represented to him the pressing wants of the company. The king, thus urgently pressed, offered him a certain negro on account. This negro was none other than his own minister, who had been his confidential friend and faithful adviser for many years. The director, shocked at the circumstance, endeavoured to point out to him the impropriety of his conduct, but his representations were ineffectual. The negro, in whose presence the offer was made, finding that his unworthy master was obstinately bent upon his design, ran up to him, drew his dagger, and plunging it into his own breast, exclaimed, Thou savage! I shall have the satisfaction of expiring, before thou canst reap any advantage from thy base ingratitude to the best of servants. I have now finished my section on the mode of procuring slaves, and I should have been made much happier by my visit to the coast of Africa, if no such instances had occurred, as I have felt myself obliged to communicate to the reader. SECT. II. Of the Manner in which the Negroes are treated by the Europeans. CHAP. I. Of the Negroes considered as TRADERS. Selfinterest, the principle of all commerce, appears in the very basest point of view, when considered, with a reference to the intercourse subsisting between the white and the black nations. The fraud and violence which the stronger generally imagine they have a right in trade to exercise towards the weaker, compel the latter in their turn to have recourse to practices equally base and cruel. Such is the true picture of the low cunning and barbarity which the whites practice towards the negroes, and these last towards their own people. In such mysteries of iniquity, the Europeans have a decided advantage over the untutored African nations; and thus practice their villainous artifices with impunity. The most despicable juggling tricks are used in measuring or reckoning the commodities bartered with the negroes. Thus for example, instead of the bottles and barrels shewn and approved of, others are substituted apparently of the same size, but containing less perhaps by one half. Advantage is taken of the difficulty with which the negroes reckon beyond ten, and thus the accounts are confused, and they are deprived of the greater part of the commodities bargained for. The wine and spirits, samples of which the negroes had tasted pure, are afterwards adulterated with water. They are defrauded in all sorts of weights and measures; and, that the European adepts in villainy may play off their tricks with success, they previously take care to intoxicate the unsuspecting negroes, and by this means fascinate their senses in such a manner, as to multiply or magnify every article set before them. These ways of trading are esteemed the most modest that can be practiced, and there is not a single European who scruples in the least to have recourse to them on all occasions. I have repeatedly been an eyewitness of such villainy. CHAP. II. Of the Negroes considered as SLAVES. On the coast of Africa there are two descriptions of slaves, namely, the immediate descendants of slaves, and those who are reduced to slavery in the different ways I have described. The former are seldom sold, except for theft, but the most trivial transgression of this kind is often made a pretext for selling them. At Goree I was present at several publick sales of young women,1 who were sold for acts of petty larceny, which scarcely deserved the name of crimes. The treatment these last experience is mild, when compared to that of the wretches, who are enslaved by force or fraud, and who are treated exactly like wild beasts. They are confined in prisons or dungeons, resembling dens, where they lie naked on the sand, crowded together and loaded with irons. In consequence of this cruel mode of confinement, they are frequently covered with cutaneous eruptions. Ten or twelve of them feed together out of a trough, precisely like so many hogs. There is even less care taken of them than of brutes, while they are confined in these horrid receptacles, and, till they are stowed away in the slave vessels, to be sent from the coast; nor are they worse treated on board, if we may credit some accounts. I am very sorry that humanity obliges me here to divulge a most barbarous practice, frequently used by the French traders in the Middle Passage. I have been assured by several of their merchants and captains, that when detained by calms, or contrary winds, occasioning a shortness of provisions and water; or when some fatal disease happens to break out among the slaves, they never fail to mix corrosive sublimate, or some other active poison with their visuals, and thus coolly dispatch the wretches committed to their charge. They affirm that it would be an act of imprudence to undertake such a voyage unprovided with poisonous drugs, and they boast of being less cruel than the Dutch and the English, who in similar circumstances throw the innocent victims overboard without ceremony.2 Of the above cruel practice, my journal furnishes a melancholy instance, communicated to me by Capt. L. of Havre de Grace. About two years ago, a slave vessel belonging to Brest, having been becalmed in the Middle Passage, fell short of provisions and water. The Captain on this occasion had recourse to poison, by which so great a number was daily dispatched, that of five hundred slaves, only twentyone arrived at Cape Franois. SECT. III. Whether the Negroes are naturally inclined to Industry. CHAP. I. In FOREIGN COUNTRIES. From several experiments made on different plantations in the WestIndies, it appears, that negroes, when working, not by the day, but by task, have given convincing proofs both of ability and industry.3 CHAP. II. In THEIR OWN COUNTRY. As liberty and reason, the two grand springs of all human action, are not yet developed in these people, who have long remained in a state of infancy, solely because their faculties have not been cultivated, in consequence of which their wants have been but few, it may perhaps be concluded, that these raw nations are incapable of civilization, but this opinion will soon vanish on reflecting, that the effects produced must entirely depend on the manner of forming their intellect. New objects ought to be presented to them, in order to excite new desires, and to call forth those faculties, which have hitherto lain dormant, merely for want of exercise. Thus in the progress of their improvement it will be necessary to introduce among them a proportionable degree of what we generally call luxury, by which I do not mean the abuse of the conveniences of life, which enervates mankind, but such moderate use of those conveniences, as will rouse them to action. The behaviour of the king of Barbesin convinced me, that this useful degree of luxury might easily be introduced among the people of the coast. I gave him a pair of common enamelled slave buttons, with which, though ignorant of their use, he was infinitely delighted. On my shewing him for what purpose they were intended, he appeared much mortified that his shirt had no buttonholes; but observed that it differed in this respect from that of a mulatto from Goree, with whom he insisted on exchanging shirts in our presence, a demand with which the man was forced to comply. Transported with his new ornaments, the king held up his hands to display them to the people. His courtiers soon surrounded my hut, intreating me to furnish them also with buttons, which I did with pleasure. This fondness of the natives for European baubles, proves that an advantageous commerce might be established among them with very little trouble and expense. The conduct of the present king (late grand marabou4) of Almammy, is more interesting to humanity, and evinces the firm manly character of the negroes when enlightened. His understanding having been more cultivated in his youth than that of the other black princes, he has rendered himself intirely independent of the whites. He has not only prohibited the slave trade throughout his dominions, but (in the year 1787) would not suffer the French to march their captives from Gallam, through his country. He redeems his own subjects when seized by the Moors, and encourages them to raise cattle, to cultivate the land, and to practice all kinds of industry. As grand marabou, he abstains from strong liquor, which, however, is not the general rule among that order; for some who travel with the whites are not scrupulous in this respect. His subjects, imitating his example, are much more sober than their neighbours. This proves to what degree of civilization these people might be brought, if with prudence and patience this great and noble enterprize was once undertaken; but without introducing some degree of what we generally call Luxury, this cultivation would, in my opinion, be intirely impracticable. To what purpose would the human understanding be cultivated, if Luxury, by which I mean nothing more than the improvement of the conveniences and comforts of life, did not keep pace with it? The former indeed could not take place without the latter. Uncivilized nations in general are led merely by animal instinct to procure their subsistence, but as soon as the understanding begins to be enlightened, by means of reflection upon what is agreeable to life, above mere necessaries, Luxury must of course be introduced.5 SECT. IV. DESCRIPTION of the COAST. CHAP. I. CLIMATE. The climate of the coast of Guinea, as of other countries, varies with the nature of the soil, its elevation or depression, the comparative state of its improvement, and other circumstances, perhaps not yet sufficiently investigated. The latitude of the place is by no means a certain criterion of its climate, since even in the midst of the torrid zone, we meet with all possible gradations of climate. The high lands of Camaroons in particular, though only between three and four degrees distant from the line, are covered with everlasting snow. It is the general opinion, that the most unhealthy climates on the coast, are those of Senegal and Juda, or, as it is called by the English, Whidah. The neighbourhood of the banks of the River Gambia, however, which has lately been much frequented, hath been found to be as unhealthy as those just mentioned, especially during the great rains, and immediately after their cessation. In general it may be concluded, that low and marshy situations are very unfavourable to the health of the Europeans, who may expect the most fatal consequences from irregularity, or excess of any kind. But a due regard to temperance, and such moderate exercise as would not induce too violent a perspiration, would doubtless be the best means of guarding against the effects of a sudden change of climate. Thus the body would gradually accommodate itself to its new situation, as is actually experienced by every one who duly attends to these precautions; and this happy effect takes place sooner or later, according to the weakness or strength of the strangers constitution, as well as to the more or less manly education he may have received, and the habits he may have formed in the earlier part of his life. The intemperature of those climates may also be in some degree resisted, by fixing ones habitation on an elevated spot during the unhealthy season of the year. For my own part, although I arrived on the coast during that season, I escaped all the diseases of the country. This I ascribe entirely to the cautious temperance I observed. During a mortality which raged at Senegal while I was there, not a single gentleman or officer on shore was attacked, but out of eleven sailors belonging to the vessel in which I returned to Europe, six were taken off in the space of a month. It must be observed, however, that seamen, by the tyranny or neglect of the captains, by a bad or scanty diet, and by the other hardships they undergo, are often exposed to many causes of disease, which do not affect persons living regularly on shore, and which will ever more or less attend the service of monopolizing Companies, or individual merchants, who, regardless of the lives of men, make gain the sole object of their speculations.6 It is remarked, that Europeans of a slender habit are generally found to be the most healthy on the coast of Guinea. From what I have been able to collect, it appears, that the rainy seasons follow the passage of the sun from the equator to either tropic, so as always to prevail in those places where the sun is vertical. East of Cape Palmas I am told they seldom set in before June, when the sun returns from the northern tropic; but to the westward of that Cape, and up the whole country, those seasons generally commence within the month of May, and continue for three or four months. In the beginning of this season, the earth being softened with the rain, the negroes till and sow their ground, and after the return of dry weather, they gather in their crops, an occupation they seldom abandon, even though allured by the most advantageous commerce. I have sufficient reason to believe, that were the coast cultivated to the extent of which the soil in general is susceptible, the climate would be much meliorated. CHAP. II. Of the Soil. The soil all along the coast is very unequal. From Cape Blanco down the coast, to the River Gambia, it is in general very sandy, but as the sand consists of broken shells, covered in many places with a rich black mould, it must be favourable to vegetation. The most barren places of this part of the country, except just on the sea shore, are covered with grass and bushes; and where the black mould is found, the vegetation is luxuriant, and the trees of vast dimensions. I have remarked, that the mountains are generally composed more or less of regular basaltes, exhibiting remains of most prodigious volcanoes, the eruptions of which greatly improve the soil around them. Hence the mountains and high grounds at Cape Emanuel, Goree, Cape Rouge, and other places lower down, are commonly very fertile. Where rice thrives best, the ground in general is low, marshy, and unhealthy. CHAP. III. The Productions. Animal. The cattle on the coast are smaller than those of Europe, and not so fat as those of England or Holland; yet their flesh is very nourishing, and they give milk in abundance. Their inferiority appeared to me to be the effect of the careless and unskillful management of the negroes. I once saw four oxen sold for eighteen livres. They must be raised on the coast, as foreign cattle do not thrive. Even those from the Cape de Verd Islands do not answer on the coast. The whole coast is abundantly stocked with sheep, hogs, and all sorts of poultry, which propagate with astonishing rapidity. Fishing and hunting are most eagerly pursued by the negroes, who have, however, but a very gross idea of any mechanical means of facilitating those employments. Of the prodigious shoals of numberless kinds of fish, I could have formed no idea without having seen them with my own eyes. Spermaceti whales abound on the coast. In passing from Goree to the Continent, distant about five miles, I have often rowed through shoals of them, and have been under no small apprehensions of their oversetting any canoe. Lower down the coast the English and Portuguese carry on a considerable fishery of those whales; and ambergris is found in such quantities on the coast, that I have more than once seen the negroes pay their canoes with it. Till lately the learned were at a loss to which of the kingdoms of nature this production was to be referred, but they are now pretty generally agreed, that it is the excrement of the spermaceti whales. Vegetable. The grass is thick, and grows to a great height. The natives are often obliged to burn it, to prevent the wild beasts from harbouring in the fields, but it soon springs up again. Millet, rice, potatoes, pulse, and many other excellent vegetables, are cultivated on the coast with very little trouble, and in a profusion perfectly astonishing to an European. Such indeed is the plenty which prevails on the coast, that all the European ships are victualled, without the smallest inconvenience to the inhabitants. There is also abundance of the most wholesome and delicious fruit; articles of no less consequence than those just mentioned. Sugarcanes grow wild in many places, which with a little cultivation might be rendered extremely valuable and productive. The same may be said of the tobaccoplant. Several species of cotton are also spontaneously produced by this excellent soil; one of them may be spun without being carded, and almost without any preparation. The negroes spin it into very fine yarn, of which they make a good but narrow cloth.7 Indigo of different kinds also grows wild, and in such quantities, as to be a very troublesome weed in the rice and millet fields. What a strange inversion of nature does not man, actuated by the most extravagant and most ridiculous selfishness, every where labour to effect? What necessity is there for exiling this plant from the soil and climate which nature has assigned it, in order to transplant it into a country, where it is far from thriving so well as in its native place, and where it fails every third or fourth year? Dyers, who have tried the African indigo, affirm, that it is better than that which is produced in Carolina and in the WestIndies. The specimens of cotton and indigo, which I have brought with me from the coast, have been carefully examined by people of skill, and found to be of the best quality. Gum is another valuable article, and is not as some imagine produced in the neighbourhood of Senegal only; it is also found on most parts of the coast, though the negroes have not yet got into the practice of collecting it, which they might do with very little trouble. My fellowtraveller, Dr. Sparrman, extracted a large quantity of the sap of a small but most juicy tree, which grows in great abundance on the coast, and exposing it to the sun for a few hours, had the satisfaction to find it converted into an elastic gum, equal in all respects to that which is known by the name of Indian rubber. The coast also produces a great variety of the most valuable and beautiful woods, many of which are scarcely known even to our botanists. I brought with me samples of fourteen species, including one remarkable for its colour, which is a very beautiful red. Among the different plants, which grow on the coast, is a kind of aloes, of which the negroes make most excellent ropes. Of several sorts of roots and leaves they make mats and baskets, and their manufactures of this kind are really elegant;this being the principal art in which they appear to equal if not to excel the Europeans. Minerals.Except some trifling and unsuccessful attempts, made by Chevalier de la Brue, in the beginning of this century, the Europeans have never made any particular search for Minerals on the coast, which, however, it would be well worth while to attend to, especially as it is well known in what abundance gold is found in the inland parts, notwithstanding the negroes are very unskillful in collecting it. An exact and regular examination of the metallick productions of the mountains, particularly those of Sierra Leona, and the adjacent country, would certainly be an object of great importance. In Gallam is found a very tough and excellent kind of iron, and the negroes work it with much ingenuity.8 SECT. V. Of the IMPEDIMENTS which will oppose European Settlements on the Coast of Guinea. CHAP. I. False Opinions. The diminution of the value of the West Indian Islands will undoubtedly be the strongest objection against forming settlements on the coast of Guinea; but this objection, which is wholly resolvable into a narrow policy, founded on false and interested principles, might be easily obviated, if my necessary brevity would permit me to enter on the discussion. To suppose that the European nations, which have West Indian colonies, would be injured by forming others in Africa, is just as unreasonable, as to suppose, that a mans property would be injured by putting him in possession of another estate, in addition to that which he already enjoys. Allow the old colonies to be lessened in their value, the loss will be more than compensated to the mother country, by settlements formed in an extensive region, which yields spontaneously the tropical productions now so much wanted in all luxurious and civilized communities. I met the whole force of this objection on the coast, and perceived clearly that this circumstance alone had hitherto prevented the European governments from forming settlements in Africa. I nevertheless saw that such settlements would be formed sooner or later, and that they could not fail to acquire strength, and to produce the most solid advantages to any nation possessed of them, especially to that which shall first undertake so beneficial an enterprize.9 But if even the best monarchs be surrounded by courtiers, devoted to partial and avaricious views, under the illusive semblance of national interest, can it be expected that the light of enlarged policy, dissipating the thick darkness in which they are enveloped, will dispose them to adopt plans extensively beneficial to mankind, and conformable to the great law of creation? Are not the governments of the two most flourishing nations, England and France, who give laws to the rest of Europe, influenced by powerful possessors of the ancient colonies and opulent merchants of their productions? It is impossible that information of so delicate a nature should be obtained pure and unadulterated through the medium of surly, sordid planters and sugar factors, who are acting only from a vile selfinterest.10 CHAP. II. Of the Diseases. The diseases to which the Europeans are subject from the climate of the coast, may be reckoned among the greatest inconveniences to establishments of white people in that part of the world. Fortunately, however, they may in general be obviated by making choice of elevated situations, and if possible by forming the first settlement on an island; by keeping up the spirits of the new colonists, so that their minds may be agreeably occupied to gratify the affections of the soul; by accustoming them, as I have already observed, to a moderate degree of exercise; guarding carefully against wet and damps in the rainy seasons; by observing a good diet, or regularity of living, and keeping the bowels open. Such precautions are the surest antidotes against most of the bad effects usually resulting from a sudden change of climate. It is a fact confirmed by observation, that, excepting accidental or violent deaths or infections, disorders to which every country as well as Africa are subject, the evils I have been speaking of, prevail chiefly among that class of people, who suffer their brutal passions to get the upper hand of their reason, and whose will and affections always govern their intellectual faculties. Nothing is more common and fatal among this class, than excess in drinking. Nevertheless there are remedies on the spot well known among the negroes, which effectually cure the diseases that cannot be escaped. CHAP. III. Of Musketoes. The musketoes are generally very troublesome; but as they are only generated in stagnant and putrid water, it is easy to perceive that this evil is not without a remedy; because by draining the marshes, and by cultivating the land, the cause which produces them will in a great measure be removed. It is likewise certain, that it is not difficult to accustom onesself to them, and it is astonishing to see with what unconcern the negroes walk quite naked, surrounded by swarms of those insects, without regarding their attacks. Smoke, in general, is a good preservative against them.11 CHAP. IV. Of Thorns and Thistles. The inconveniences of thorns and thistles that grow wild in very great abundance among the trees, bushes, and grass, are likewise an hindrance to the commencement of cultivation; but if the negroes were employed to pull them up, this obstacle would be of little consequence; for they are so used and accustomed to them, that they make no scruple of penetrating across the thickets which most abound with them. Besides, the cultivation of the country will soon exterminate these impediments, as well as many others. SECT. VI. REFLECTIONS. From all that has been said, as well as from many other particulars, unnecessary to be repeated here, as they are already laid before the publick, it is evident, that the slave trade is a Commerce, carried to the highest pitch of human depravity, and it is to be feared that its total suppression by all the Europeans nations is a thing more to be wished for than expected at once, unless some of the civilized nations were to unite in establishing colonies on the coast of Guinea. May therefore every nation, seriously engaged in the cause of liberty, consider this efficacious remedy with the strictest attention, and reap the great advantage to be derived from the fruitful soil of this vast part of the globe, by the effectual means already pointed out, namely, that of Cultivation12. But, as the settling of new colonies, and the gradual abolition of this trade, require the most scrupulous attention, I venture to flatter myself, that from some experience and application to this matter, I shall be able to excite every feeling and disinterested mind, to view this grand object in a proper point of light: I consider it therefore as a duty to lay before them the following reflections. Though it be usual to compare nations and their colonies to parents and their children, yet in reality the comparison is not just, as things are circumstanced at present. In every individual family, what is so highly regarded, or esteemed so highly interesting, so useful, directing the attention to sound policy, as the human production or propagation of mankind? Where is that parent, who not only strives to give his children as good an education as he himself has received, but impelled by affection even endeavours to elevate them into a superior state? Acting thus, has he any other end than that of introducing them as active, zealous, and laborious citizens, from a principle of usefulness, as reasonable, beneficent, and religious fathers of future families, into that society, of which he himself forms a part? From what has been said it follows, that children, when they arrive at the age of maturity, although they have been useful to their parents during their minority; yet it is not to be inferred, that from a principle of obligation or false gratitude, they ought inseparably to abide by their parents throughout life. No! in a more advanced age, nature and reason combine to emancipate and justify them, even though opposed by their parents; when in their turn they independently establish themselves, and lay a foundation for new families, which augmenting the prosperity, and strength of the community, necessarily promotes those of their parents. How could any society whatever otherwise continue to exist? In a word, a child is fruit hanging on the tree;man, arrived to full growth, is separated therefrom, which, under the direction of Providence, reproduces in its turn, a new tree that may do honour to the forest. The gratitude and filial attachment which a child constantly preserves for those who gave him being, is always proportioned to the education he has received from them, and to the tie which has been mutually formed on both sides, during the state of nonage. Societies at large ought to act precisely on the same principle in forming colonies, since these are nothing else but their own children, or the superfluity of their population. When therefore a large Society thus gives birth to a small one, in the establishing thereof, can it possess a more noble view than that of regarding in the first place the interest of mankind, or universal Society, and afterwards the advantage of its own colony or Society in particular? Standing thus between them both, will not the happiness of both center in itself? Does not the father of a family rejoice in the happiness both of his country and his children? But is there any colony existing founded on these truly humane principles? Does not the education which the present colonies have received, and do still receive from their interested and imprudent parents, prove the rankest hatred between beings that ought to be united by the tenderest ties? Whence proceeds the cause, that smaller societies have been compelled by misunderstanding to separate from the greater which gave them existence, but perverted education, combined with the false principle of endeavouring to keep the child, arrived to its maturity perpetually in leading firings, like an infant? Since my short stay in London, I have weighed with the stricted impartiality the argument for and against slavery; I hope, therefore, I may be permitted to communicate my ideas on this delicate and interesting subject, making man always the principal object of comparison, as being the most exact form, and the most perfect model existing in the creation. No one will deny that the two distinct and principal faculties, which essentially constitute man, are Will and the Understanding: the former is derived from some kind of love, and being from the birth possessed by man in common with all other animals, he would become even more savage and destructive, if he had not the opportunity in society of cultivating his other faculty, the Understanding, which by instruction is capable of infinite elevation. But when this latter faculty comes to maturity, it then acquires a right of directing the Will in the way most conformable to wisdom, and bears the same relation to it as a helm to a ship, which is constantly directed thereby in the course most favourable to the voyage. This elevation of the Understanding above the Will or Passions, is the same as what we call Education or Civilization, Education with respect to every man in particular, and civilization to mankind in general. The greatest human societies may in general be divided into two classes; the civilized and the uncivilized; and the obligations the former are under to the latter, are precisely the same as those of parents towards their children. From this analogy between children and uncivilized nations, it may then easily be concluded, that the one as well as the other are governed by their passions, in consequence of their understanding not being cultivated. If we feel within us an interior but distinct voice, dictating that we ought to seek our own happiness in promoting that of our posterity; in ascending from particular to general, we shall also feel that the instructed and civilized nations for their own advantage must of necessity act unanimously for the happiness of the barbarous and uncivilized. If the tutelage of children be regarded as a period of slavery, I allow that the civilized nations have some right to exercise a certain dominion over the uncivilized, provided that this happy dominion be considered as a paternal yoke, and that the duration do not exceed the period of the childs maturity. Let us then form new settlements along the African coast; settlements which shall have no other aim than that of inviting those nations to the riches which will arise from the cultivation of their own country, and thence the enjoyment of civilization, to both which they are capable of applying themselves with ardour and joy.Let us thus on the wreck of tyranny raise altars to humanity. Let us give to this weak, timid, and ignorant people, a masculine and courageous education. Let us make them feel the nobility of their origin, that under our tuition they may become generous from sound political interest; and may they no longer be slaves, but men. Let us for our own part freely assist them in tilling the fine country they inhabit. Let us prove to those innumerable multitudes of men, by the force of example, that they possess the most fertile soil. Let us also, by example, teach them no longer to suffer themselves to be torn from their native shores. Let us teach them to shake off the irons, and to revenge themselves on the blind tyrants, who shackle them, by becoming more useful to them in a state of freedom. Note to Sec. III. and Chap. I. The following Circumstance is related by Mr. de la Blancherie, from an Extract of the Journal of his Voyages, published at Paris, in 2 vols. 1775.13 An inhabitant of St. Domingo had a negro, who for a long time had solicited for his liberty, and which he had fully merited by his services; but that which ought to have procured it for him, was precisely what prevented his master from granting it, namely, his being essentially useful to him. The more the negro pressed to obtain his freedom, which had been promised him, the more pretences were found for eluding and deferring the execution of the promise; the master himself no longer hid from his slave his great attachment to him. Yet flattering as this kind of refusal was, far from diminishing his desire of liberty, it served to encrease it. He resolved then to employ another means, which was to buy his freedom; appreciating himself according to the reasons his master had given him, for not fulfilling his promise. In some parts of St. Domingo, the inhabitants do not enter into the detail of the food and clothing of their negroes. They give them two hours in a day for cultivating a certain portion of land, granted to them for their subsistence; those who are industrious, not only obtain what is necessary, but even that which enables them to carry on a commerce, more or less considerable, according to their ability. Our black, at the end of some years, gained more money than was requisite to redeem himself, and presenting the gold to his master, told him that he was resolved to gain his liberty, and offered to pay the price of another negro. The planter surprized, says to him, Go, I have sufficiently trafficked in my fellowcreatures, enjoy what is your own: you have restored me to myself. He immediately sold his plantation, and only remained long enough at St. Domingo to collect his property. He returned to France, and in the way to his province, was obliged to pass through Paris. Remaining in that seductive town, he spared nothing that could give an idea of that opulence which is attached to the name of an American. Women, high living, gaming, parties of pleasure of all kinds, he gave himself up to, without restraint, embracing every opportunity of expence. His fortune was soon dissipated. In that wretched situation, it was necessary to determine on something, but on what was the question. To remain in France a ruined man was impossible; to return to the islands, what an embarrassing humiliation. Nevertheless, on reflection, he flattered himself he should find more resources there than elsewhere, depending rather on the attachment of those whose fortunes he had made in St. Domingo, than on the friendship of those who had been the promoters of his ruin in France, he determined to embark. His arrival at the Cape surprized every body acquainted with his misfortune. They pitied him, but no one gave him the least assistance. His ancient friends only permitted him to be a witness of the pleasures he had procured them, without making him a partaker in their enjoyments. Many who had personal obligations to him, were never at home when he visited them; a dreadful example this, joined to many others which present themselves daily, and are yet insufficient to prevent men from desiring to form such connexions. Thus reduced to live in the wretched inns on the port, which are only suited to the poorest, he had not yet been to see his negro; whether he had been prevented from not knowing where he was, or from being ashamed of presenting himself in the condition to which he was reduced, I know not; but the black, who had a house, having learnt his misfortune, and discovered his retreat, soon threw himself at the feet of his dear master and benefactor (for these were the terms he made use of) accompanied with tears at considering his situation. His zeal was not confined to words, he made him master in his house; but on reflection, putting himself in his place, he saw his selflove mortified by the contempt inseparable from indigence, and the pain which is induced by the consciousness of being in a state of dependance; he felt all the weight his benefits must have on a generous and liberal mind. My dear master, said he, embracing his knees, I owe to you all I am; dispose of every thing I have, quit this country, where your past misfortunes will give birth to new ones; abandon those ungrateful people whom you did not oblige with a view to their future services. How shall I be able to live in France? Ah, my dear master, shall your slave be happy enough to induce you to accept of a tribute of his gratitude? will you do him that kindness? The master quite affected, knew not how to answer. The negro continued, fifteen hundred livres, will that be sufficient? Ah, it will certainly be too much answered the master, dissolved in tears. Immediately the black quitted him, and returning, put into his possession a deed, which insured him for life fifteen hundred livres. The planter is now in France, and actually receives every year his pension, six months in advance. The negros name is Lewis Desrouleaux, and I saw him at the Cape, where he continued to keep house. FINIS. ADVERTISEMENT. The Author has lately published TWO VIEWS of the COAST of GUINEA, with separate Descriptions, embellished with four small Prints.In these Views are introduced some historical facts related in this pamphlet, pages 9, 11,  12. The size 22 inches by 17, and the price 15s.His view, in undertaking to publish them, was more essentially to serve the cause of humanity, and he has therefore offered them at the same price which they cost him, not wishing to have any emolument from this sale.They are to be had of the Author, No. 6, in the Poultry; at Mr. J. Phillipss, GeorgeYard, LombardStreet; Mr. B. Evans, Printseller, in the Poultry; Mr. S. Walter, Homers Head, CharingCross; Mr. W. Dickinson, Printseller, No. 158, NewBondStreet; Mess. Robson and Clarke, NewBondStreet; and Mr. B. Chastanier, No. 62, TottenhamCourtRoad. Illustration: (Decorative header line) ERRATUM. Page 13, Line 16, for lum, read Salum. Illustration: (Decorative footer line) FOOTNOTES: 1 The treatment the sex experience from the white traders on all occasions, is such, as decency forbids me to describe. 2 Since my arrival in London, this horrid practice has been authenticated by the respectable authority of several French gentlemen. 3 A remarkable and well authenticated proof of the above interesting fact will be given at the end of this little tract. 4 The marabous are the chief priests among the negroes, and are the only people who can read and write Arabic. 5 By LUXURY, I understand, all enjoyments beyond the necessaries of mere animal life. Consequently to live in a civilized community is already a sort of luxury; and if the cultivation of our understanding be necessary, we ought also to be indulged in the use of a word which is now so generally abused. 6 It is worthy of remark, that since wine was substituted for the brandy, which till within these last three years was served out to the French troops on the coast, they have been incomparably healthier. 7 The first considerable exportation of cotton and indigo from the Coast to Europe, as far as I have been informed, was made in the year 1787, while I was at Goree, by a Frenchman, who had resided some time in that island. 8 The mineralogical observations made by my fellowtraveller, Capt. Arrhenius, on that part of the coast where we travelled, particularly respecting the Volcanoes, will undoubtedly prove very interesting, when he has leisure to put them in proper order for publication. OBSERVATION.I cannot omit to mention in this place, that Mr. Geoffrey de Villeneuve, a young French officer, and skilful naturalist, who made a very extensive journey in the year 1787 into the interior parts of the country above Goree, will probably soon entertain the publick with a faithful description thereof, so much the more interesting, as he has with indefatigable pains and deep knowledge, examined the disposition of the inhabitants, and the nature of the country, in a manner which certainly will do honour to the philosophy of this century. 9 That it is necessary for a free, commercial, and laborious nation to look out for foreign settlements, when population and manufactured products encrease in a similar proportion, is a truth as evident as that without enlarging space for the former, and seeking for an emporium for the latter, the progress of population and commerce must necessarily and of course cease. Hence sound policy dictates that the government of such a nation should with the affectionate care of a provident father, prepare proper places for receiving the superabundance of population and productsa principle which few mother countries seem to have observed in the settlement of colonies. In a future treatise the author will endeavour to shew, that this fundamental mistake is the true cause of the ruinous and unsupportable expence in which all the European colonies have involved their respective mother countries. He will propose a plan, the adoption of which he is of opinion would effectually prevent such ruinous consequences in any settlement that may hereafter be established by the Europeans. He will also enumerate the productions of the coast of Guinea, and the European commodities preferred by the inhabitants, adding some directions and cautions proper to be observed in trading and conversing with them, together with several other interesting particulars. 10 I cannot help here reflecting on the strange means the French employ for the encouragement of this execrable trade. They allow their merchants a bounty of 150 livres tournois for each slave they import into Cayenne and La Guyenne Franoise; 100 livres for the southern parts of St. Domingo; 80 livres for La Jeremie and its dependencies; 60 livres for St. Marie, Leogane, and Port au Prince; and 50 livres for Cape Franois and its dependencies.Besides this, Government pays a premium of 40 livres per ton for all the ships that go to the coast, and they are also more favoured in the measurement than any other. These bounties, granted for promoting the sale of human flesh, is the occasion of their committing the most abominable abuses, which cry for vengeance, and are even injurious in the extreme to the Government which encourages them. 11 Mr. Sefstrom, in Sweden, has lately discovered, that a very small quantity of campfire, strewed on a firecoal, immediately destroys every insect within the reach of its effluvia, and no doubt would prove fatal to the musketoes. See the Acts of the Royal Society of Sciences at Stockholm, for the year 1787. 12 Establishments of new colonies in Africa have been opposed by some with an apparent strength of argument; the principal points of which may be collected under the following heads: 1st. That it would be introducing among the simple and innocent people the corrupted manners of the Europeans.2d. That such establishments would be the means of increasing and perpetuating the practice of making slaves.3d. That Government will be exposed to considerable sacrifices to secure protection to the colonies, and to supply them with necessaries from Europe, c.In a work I am preparing to lay before the publick, it is my intention to submit, for candid perusal, the reflections I have made on these objections, and endeavour to prove the great error by which these real friends to humanity are at present influenced. 13 This journal gives the history of a young man whom the author knew to have died, in consequence of a very dissolute life, induced from a faulty education, and from which the most important deductions may be made, respecting publick education, and the duty of parents. The same Mr. de la Blancherie has, since the publication of this work, digested and carried into execution in Paris, the plan of a Bureau de correspondence gnrale et gratuite pour les Sciences et les Arts, where men of all nations, and every class, should find, as in a living Encyclopedia, (to use the happy expression of His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester) the means of communication and instruction, and every good office relative to the Sciences and the Arts. For twelve years past he has contended with all possible obstacles, in order to persuade mankind to pursue their true interests, by a reciprocation of good offices. Mr. de la Blancherie is at present, and will remain some time in England, to acquire connexions useful to this grand view. TRANSCRIBERS NOTE The original Table of Contents was in two parts at the front and the back of the book. These have been joined in this etext. The one change in the ERRATA at the back of the book has been applied to the etext. The spelling of Salum has been changed to Sallum to be consistent with all other occurrences in the book. Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added, when a predominant preference was found in the original book. Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. Pg 30: and thus cooly replaced by and thus coolly. Pg 35: the conveniencies and replaced by the conveniences and. Pg 36: lands of Camarons replaced by lands of Camaroons. Pg 41: and Portugueze replaced by and Portuguese. Pg 42: sparmaceti whales replaced by spermaceti whales."
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    "text": "THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER by TOBIAS SMOLLETT To Mr HENRY DAVIS, Bookseller, in London. ABERGAVENNY, Aug. 4. RESPECTED SIR, I have received your esteemed favour of the 13th ultimo, whereby it appeareth, that you have perused those same Letters, the which were delivered unto you by my friend, the reverend Mr Hugo Behn; and I am pleased to find you think they may be printed with a good prospect of success; in as much as the objections you mention, I humbly conceive, are such as may be redargued, if not entirely removedAnd, first, in the first place, as touching what prosecutions may arise from printing the private correspondence of persons still living, give me leave, with all due submission, to observe, that the Letters in question were not written and sent under the seal of secrecy; that they have no tendency to the mala fama, or prejudice of any person whatsoever; but rather to the information and edification of mankind: so that it becometh a sort of duty to promulgate them in usum publicum. Besides, I have consulted Mr Davy Higgins, an eminent attorney of this place, who, after due inspection and consideration, declareth, That he doth not think the said Letters contain any matter which will be held actionable in the eye of the law. Finally, if you and I should come to a right understanding, I do declare in verbo sacerdotis, that, in case of any such prosecution, I will take the whole upon my own shoulders, even quoad fine and imprisonment, though, I must confess, I should not care to undergo flagellation: Tam ad turpitudinem, quam ad amaritudinem poenoe spectansSecondly, concerning the personal resentment of Mr Justice Lismahago, I may say, non flocci facioI would not willingly vilipend any Christian, if, peradventure, he deserveth that epithet: albeit, I am much surprised that more care is not taken to exclude from the commission all such vagrant foreigners as may be justly suspected of disaffection to our happy constitution, in church and stateGod forbid that I should be so uncharitable, as to affirm, positively, that the said Lismahago is no better than a Jesuit in disguise; but this I will assert and maintain, totis viribus, that, from the day he qualified, he has never been once seen intra templi parietes, that is to say, within the parish church. Thirdly, with respect to what passed at Mr Kendal's table, when the said Lismahago was so brutal in his reprehensions, I must inform you, my good Sir, that I was obliged to retire, not by fear arising from his minatory reproaches, which, as I said above, I value not of a rush; but from the sudden effect produced, by a barbel's row, which I had eaten at dinner, not knowing, that the said row is at certain seasons violently cathartic, as Galen observeth in his chapter Peri ichtos. Fourthly, and lastly, with reference to the manner in which I got possession of these Letters, it is a circumstance that concerns my own conscience only; sufficeth it to say, I have fully satisfied the parties in whose custody they were; and, by this time, I hope I have also satisfied you in such ways, that the last hand may be put to our agreement, and the work proceed with all convenient expedition; in which I hope I rest, Respected Sir, Your very humble servant, JONATHAN DUSTWICH. P.S. I propose, Deo volente, to have the pleasure of seeing you in the great city, towards Allhallowtide, when I shall be glad to treat with you concerning a parcel of MS. sermons, of a certain clergyman deceased; a cake of the right leaven, for the present taste of the public. Verbum sapienti, c. J.D. To the Revd. Mr JONATHAN DUSTWICH, at SIR, I received yours in course of post, and shall be glad to treat with you for the M.S. which I have delivered to your friend Mr Behn; but can by no means comply with the terms proposed. Those things are so uncertainWriting is all a lotteryI have been a loser by the works of the greatest men of the ageI could mention particulars, and name names; but don't choose itThe taste of the town is so changeable. Then there have been so many letters upon travels lately publishedWhat between Smollett's, Sharp's, Derrick's, Thicknesse's, Baltimore's, and Baretti's, together with Shandy's Sentimental Travels, the public seems to be cloyed with that kind of entertainmentNevertheless, I will, if you please, run the risque of printing and publishing, and you shall have half the profits of the impressionYou need not take the trouble to bring up your sermons on my accountNo body reads sermons but Methodists and DissentersBesides, for my own part, I am quite a stranger to that sort of reading; and the two persons, whose judgment I depended upon in those matters, are out of the way; one is gone abroad, carpenter of a man of war; and the other, has been silly enough to abscond, in order to avoid a prosecution for blasphemyI'm a great loser by his going offHe has left a manual of devotion half finished on my hands, after having received money for the whole copyHe was the soundest divine, and had the most orthodox pen of all my people; and I never knew his judgment fail, but in flying from his bread and butter on this occasion. By owning you was not put in bodily fear by Lismahago, you preclude yourself from the benefit of a good plea, over and above the advantage of binding him over. In the late war, I inserted in my evening paper, a paragraph that came by the post, reflecting upon the behaviour of a certain regiment in battle. An officer of said regiment came to my shop, and, in the presence of my wife and journeyman, threatened to cut off my earsAs I exhibited marks of bodily fear more ways than one, to the conviction of the byestanders, I bound him over; my action lay, and I recovered. As for flagellation, you have nothing to fear, and nothing to hope, on that headThere has been but one printer flogged at the cart's tail these thirty years; that was Charles Watson; and he assured me it was no more than a fleabite. C S has been threatened several times by the House of L; but it came to nothing. If an information should be moved for, and granted against you, as the editor of those Letters, I hope you will have honesty and wit enough to appear and take your trialIf you should be sentenced to the pillory, your fortune is madeAs times go, that's a sure step to honour and preferment. I shall think myself happy if I can lend you a lift; and am, very sincerely, Yours, HENRY DAVIS. LONDON, Aug. 10th. Please my kind service to your neighbour, my cousin MadocI have sent an Almanack and Courtkalendar, directed for him at Mr Sutton's, bookseller, in Gloucester, carriage paid, which he will please to accept as a small token of my regard. My wife, who is very fond of toasted cheese, presents her compliments to him, and begs to know if there's any of that kind, which he was so good as to send us last Christmas, to be sold in London. H. D. THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER To Dr LEWIS. DOCTOR, The pills are good for nothingI might as well swallow snowballs to cool my reinsI have told you over and over how hard I am to move; and at this time of day, I ought to know something of my own constitution. Why will you be so positive? Prithee send me another prescriptionI am as lame and as much tortured in all my limbs as if I was broke upon the wheel: indeed, I am equally distressed in mind and bodyAs if I had not plagues enough of my own, those children of my sister are left me for a perpetual source of vexationwhat business have people to get children to plague their neighbours? A ridiculous incident that happened yesterday to my niece Liddy, has disordered me in such a manner, that I expect to be laid up with another fit of the goutperhaps, I may explain myself in my next. I shall set out tomorrow morning for the Hot Well at Bristol, where I am afraid I shall stay longer than I could wish. On the receipt of this send Williams thither with my saddlehorse and the demi pique. Tell Barns to thresh out the two old ricks, and send the corn to market, and sell it off to the poor at a shilling a bushel under market price.I have received a snivelling letter from Griffin, offering to make a public submission and pay costs. I want none of his submissions, neither will I pocket any of his money. The fellow is a bad neighbour, and I desire, to have nothing to do with him: but as he is purseproud, he shall pay for his insolence: let him give five pounds to the poor of the parish, and I will withdraw my action; and in the mean time you may tell Prig to stop proceedings.Let Morgan's widow have the Alderney cow, and forty shillings to clothe her children: but don't say a syllable of the matter to any living soulI'll make her pay when she is able. I desire you will lock up all my drawers, and keep the keys till meeting; and be sure you take the iron chest with my papers into your own custodyForgive all, this trouble from, Dear Lewis, Your affectionate M. BRAMBLE GLOUCESTER, April 2. To Mrs GWYLLIM, housekeeper at Brambletonhall. MRS GWILLIM, When this cums to hand, be sure to pack up in the trunk male that stands in my closet; to be sent me in the Bristol waggon without loss of time, the following articles, viz. my rose collard neglejay with green robins, my yellow damask, and my black velvets with the short hoop; my bloo quilted petticot, my green mantel, my laced apron, my French commode, Macklin head and lappets and the litel box with my jowls. Williams may bring over my bumdaffee, and the viol with the easings of Dr Hill's dockwater and Chowder's lacksitif. The poor creature has been terribly stuprated ever since we left huom. Pray take particular care of the house while the family is absent. Let there be a fire constantly kept in my brother's chamber and mine. The maids, having nothing to do, may be sat a spinning. I desire you'll clap a padluck on the windseller, and let none of the men have excess to the strong beardon't forget to have the gate shit every evening be darkThe gardnir and the hind may lie below in the landry, to partake the house, with the blunderbuss and the great dog; and hope you'll have a watchful eye over the maids. I know that hussy Mary Jones, loves to be rumping with the men. Let me know Alderney's calf be sould yet, and what he foughtif the ould goose be sitting; and if the cobler has cut Dicky, and how pore anemil bore the operation. No more at present, but rests, Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE GLOSTAR, April 2. TO Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MOLLY, Heaving this importunity, I send, my love to you and Saul, being in good health, and hoping to hear the same from you; and that you and Saul will take my poor kitten to bed with you this cold weather. We have been all in, a sad taking here at GlostarMiss Liddy had like to have run away with a playerman, and young master and he would adone themselves a mischief; but the squire applied to the mare, and they were, bound over.Mistress bid me not speak a word of the matter to any Christian soulno more I shall; for, we servints should see all and say nothing But what was worse than all this, Chowder has had the misfortune to be worried by a butcher's dog, and came home in a terrible pickleMistress was taken with the asterisks, but they soon went off. The doctor was sent for to Chowder, and he subscribed a repository which did him great servicethank God he's now in a fair way to do wellpray take care of my box and the pillyber and put them under your own bed; for, I do suppose madam, Gwyllim will be a prying into my secrets, now my back is turned. John Thomas is in good health, but sulky. The squire gave away an ould coat to a poor man; and John says as, how 'tis robbing him of his perquisites.I told him, by his agreement he was to receive no vails; but he says as how there's a difference betwixt vails and perquisites; and so there is for sartain. We are all going to the Hot Well, where I shall drink your health in a glass of water, being, Dear Molly, Your humble servant to command, W. JENKINS GLOSTAR, April 2nd. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, As I have nothing more at heart than to convince you I am incapable of forgetting, or neglecting the friendship I made at college, now begin that correspondence by letters, which you and I agreed, at parting, to cultivate. I begin it sooner than I intended, that you may have it in your power to refute any idle reports which may be circulated to my prejudice at Oxford, touching a foolish quarrel, in which I have been involved on account of my sister, who had been some time settled here in a boardingschool. When I came hither with my uncle and aunt (who are our guardians) to fetch her away, I found her a fine tall girl, of seventeen, with an agreeable person; but remarkably simple, and quite ignorant of the world. This disposition, and want of experience, had exposed her to the addresses of a personI know not what to call him, who had seen her at a play; and, with a confidence and dexterity peculiar to himself, found means to be recommended to her acquaintance. It was by the greatest accident I intercepted one of his letters; as it was my duty to stifle this correspondence in its birth, I made it my business to find him out, and tell him very freely my sentiments of the matter. The spark did not like the stile I used, and behaved with abundance of mettle. Though his rank in life (which, by the bye, I am ashamed to declare) did not entitle him to much deference; yet as his behaviour was remarkably spirited, I admitted him to the privilege of a gentleman, and something might have happened, had not we been prevented.In short, the business took air, I know not how, and made abundance of noiserecourse was had to justiceI was obliged to give my word and honour, c. and tomorrow morning we set out for Bristol Wells, where I expect to hear from you by the return of the post.I have got into a family of originals, whom I may one day attempt to describe for your amusement. My aunt, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, is a maiden of fortyfive, exceedingly starched, vain, and ridiculous.My uncle is an odd kind of humorist, always on the fret, and so unpleasant in his manner, that rather than be obliged to keep him company, I'd resign all claim to the inheritance of his estate. Indeed his being tortured by the gout may have soured his temper, and, perhaps, I may like him better on further acquaintance; certain it is, all his servants and neighbours in the country are fond of him, even to a degree of enthusiasm, the reason of which I cannot as yet comprehend. Remember me to Griffy Price, Gwyn, Mansel, Basset, and all the rest of my old Cambrian companions.Salute the bedmaker in my namegive my service to the cook, and pray take care of poor Ponto, for the sake of his old master, who is, and ever will be, Dear Phillips, Your affectionate friend, and humble servant, JER. MELFORD GLOUCESTER, April 2. To Mrs JERMYN at her house in Gloucester. DEAR MADAM, Having no mother of my own, I hope you will give me leave to disburden my poor heart to you, who have always acted the part of a kind parent to me, ever since I was put under your care. Indeed, and indeed, my worthy governess may believe me, when I assure her, that I never harboured a thought that was otherwise than virtuous; and, if God will give me grace, I shall never behave so as to cast a reflection on the care you have taken in my education. I confess I have given just cause of offence by my want of prudence and experience. I ought not to have listened to what the young man said; and it was my duty to have told you all that passed, but I was ashamed to mention it; and then he behaved so modest and respectful, and seemed to be so melancholy and timorous, that I could not find in my heart to do any thing that should make him miserable and desperate. As for familiarities, I do declare, I never once allowed him the favour of a: salute; and as to the few letters that passed between us, they are all in my uncle's hands, and I hope they contain nothing contrary to innocence and honour.I am still persuaded that he is not what he appears to be: but time will discovermean while I will endeavour to forget a connexion, which is so displeasing to my family. I have cried without ceasing, and have not tasted any thing but tea, since I was hurried away from you; nor did I once close my eyes for three nights running.My aunt continues to chide me severely when we are by ourselves; but I hope to soften her in time, by humility and submission.My uncle, who was so dreadfully passionate in the beginning, has been moved by my tears and distress; and is now all tenderness and compassion; and my brother is reconciled to me on my promise to break off all correspondence with that unfortunate youth; but, notwithstanding all their indulgence, I shall have no peace of mind till I know my dear and ever honoured governess has forgiven her poor, disconsolate, forlorn, Affectionate humble servant, till death, LYDIA MELFORD CLIFTON, April 6. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAREST LETTY, I am in such a fright, lest this should not come safe to hand by the conveyance of Jarvis the carrier, that I beg you will write me, on the receipt of it, directing to me, under cover, to Mrs Winifred Jenkins, my aunt's maid, who is a good girl, and has been so kind to me in my affliction, that I have made her my confidant; as for Jarvis, he was very shy of taking charge of my letter and the little parcel, because his sister Sally had like to have lost her place on my account: indeed I cannot blame the man for his caution; but I have made it worth his while.My dear companion and bedfellow, it is a grievous addition to my other misfortunes, that I am deprived of your agreeable company and conversation, at a time when I need so much the comfort of your good humour and good sense; but, I hope, the friendship we contracted at boardingschool, will last for lifeI doubt not but on my side it will daily increase and improve, as I gain experience, and learn to know the value of a true friend. O, my dear Letty! what shall I say about poor Mr Wilson? I have promised to break off all correspondence, and, if possible, to forget him: but, alas! I begin to perceive that will not be in my power. As it is by no means proper that the picture should remain in my hands, lest it should be the occasion of more mischief, I have sent it to you by this opportunity, begging you will either keep it safe till better times, or return it to Mr Wilson himself, who, I suppose, will make it his business to see you at the usual place. If he should be lowspirited at my sending back his picture, you may tell him I have no occasion for a picture, while the original continues engraved on myBut no; I would not have you tell him that neither; because there must be an end of our correspondenceI wish he may forget me, for the sake of his own peace; and yet if he should, he must be a barbarousBut it is impossiblepoor Wilson cannot be false and inconstant: I beseech him not to write to me, nor attempt to see me for some time; for, considering the resentment and passionate temper of my brother Jery, such an attempt might be attended with consequences which would make us all miserable for lifelet us trust to time and the chapter of accidents; or rather to that Providence which will not fail, sooner or later, to reward those that walk in the paths of honour and virtue. I would offer my love to the young ladies; but it is not fit that any of them should know you have received this letter.If we go to Bath, I shall send you my simple remarks upon that famous center of polite amusement, and every other place we may chance to visit; and I flatter myself that my dear Miss Willis will be punctual in answering the letters of her affectionate, LYDIA MELFORD CLIFTON, April 6. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS, I have followed your directions with some success, and might have been upon my legs by this time, had the weather permitted me to use my saddlehorse. I rode out upon the Downs last Tuesday, in the forenoon, when the sky, as far as the visible horizon, was without a cloud; but before I had gone a full mile, I was overtaken instantaneously by a storm of rain that wet me to the skin in three minuteswhence it came the devil knows; but it has laid me up (I suppose) for one fortnight. It makes me sick to hear people talk of the fine air upon Cliftondowns: How can the air be either agreeable or salutary, where the demon of vapours descends in a perpetual drizzle? My confinement is the more intolerable, as I am surrounded with domestic vexations. My niece has had a dangerous fit of illness, occasioned by that cursed incident at Gloucester, which I mentioned in my last.She is a poor goodnatured simpleton, as soft as butter, and as easily meltednot that she's a foolthe girl's parts are not despicable, and her education has not been neglected; that is to say, she can write and spell, and speak French, and play upon the harpsichord; then she dances finely, has a good figure, and is very well inclined; but, she's deficient in spirit, and so susceptibleand so tender forsooth!truly, she has got a languishing eye, and reads romances.Then there's her brother, 'squire Jery, a pert jackanapes, full of collegepetulance and selfconceit; proud as a German count, and as hot and hasty as a Welch mountaineer. As for that fantastical animal, my sister Tabby, you are no stranger to her qualificationsI vow to God, she is sometimes so intolerable, that I almost think she's the devil incarnate come to torment me for my sins; and yet I am conscious of no sins that ought to entail such familyplagues upon mewhy the devil should not I shake off these torments at once? I an't married to Tabby, thank Heaven! nor did I beget the other two: let them choose another guardian: for my part I an't in a condition to take care of myself; much less to superintend the conduct of giddyheaded boys and girls. You earnestly desire to know the particulars of our adventure at Gloucester, which are briefly these, and I hope they will go no further:Liddy had been so long copped up in a boardingschool, which, next to a nunnery, is the worst kind of seminary that ever was contrived for young women, that she became as inflammable as touchwood; and going to a play in holidaytime,'sdeath, I'm ashamed to tell you! she fell in love with one of the actorsa handsome young fellow that goes by the name of Wilson. The rascal soon perceived the impression he had made, and managed matters so as to see her at a house where she went to drink tea with her governess.This was the beginning of a correspondence, which they kept up by means of a jade of a milliner, who made and dressed caps for the girls at the boardingschool. When we arrived at Gloucester, Liddy came to stay at lodgings with her aunt, and Wilson bribed the maid to deliver a letter into her own hands; but it seems Jery had already acquired so much credit with the maid (by what means he best knows) that she carried the letter to him, and so the whole plot was discovered. The rash boy, without saying a word of the matter to me, went immediately in search of Wilson; and, I suppose, treated him with insolence enough. The theatrical hero was too far gone in romance to brook such usage: he replied in blank verse, and a formal challenge ensued. They agreed to meet early next morning and decide the dispute with sword and pistol. I heard nothing at all of the affair, till Mr Morley came to my bedside in the morning, and told me he was afraid my nephew was going to fight, as he had been overheard talking very loud and vehement with Wilson at the young man's lodgings the night before, and afterwards went and bought powder and ball at a shop in the neighbourhood. I got up immediately, and upon inquiry found he was just going out. I begged Morley to knock up the mayor, that he might interpose as a magistrate, and in the mean time I hobbled after the squire, whom I saw at a distance walking at a great pace towards the city gatein spite of all my efforts, I could not come up till our two combatants had taken their ground, and were priming their pistols. An old house luckily screened me from their view; so that I rushed upon them at once, before I was perceived. They were both confounded, and attempted to make their escape different ways; but Morley coming up with constables, at that instant, took Wilson into custody, and Jery followed him quietly to the mayor's house. All this time I was ignorant of what had passed the preceding day; and neither of the parties would discover a tittle of the matter. The mayor observed that it was great presumption in Wilson, who was a stroller, to proceed to such extremities with a gentleman of family and fortune; and threatened to commit him on the vagrant act.The young fellow bustled up with great spirit, declaring he was a gentleman, and would be treated as such; but he refused to explain himself further. The master of the company being sent for, and examined, touching the said Wilson, said the young man had engaged with him at Birmingham about six months ago; but never would take his salary; that he had behaved so well in his private character, as to acquire the respect and goodwill of all his acquaintance, and that the public owned his merit as an actor was altogether extraordinary.After all, I fancy, he will turn out to be a runaway prentice from London.The manager offered to bail him for any sum, provided he would give his word and honour that he would keep the peace; but the young gentleman was on his high ropes, and would by no means lay himself under any restrictions: on the other hand, Hopeful was equally obstinate; till at length the mayor declared, that if they both refused to be bound over, he would immediately commit Wilson as a vagrant to hard labour. I own I was much pleased with Jery's behaviour on this occasion: he said, that rather than Mr Wilson should be treated in such an ignominious manner, he would give his word and honour to prosecute the affair no further while they remained at GloucesterWilson thanked him for his generous manner of proceeding, and was discharged. On our return to our lodgings, my nephew explained the whole mystery; and I own I was exceedingly incensedLiddy being questioned on the subject, and very severely reproached by that wildcat my sister Tabby, first swooned away, then dissolving in a flood of tears, confessed all the particulars of the correspondence, at the same time giving up three letters, which was all she had received from her admirer. The last, which Jery intercepted, I send you inclosed, and when you have read it, I dare say you won't wonder at the progress the writer had made in the heart of a simple girl, utterly unacquainted with the characters of mankind. Thinking it was high time to remove her from such a dangerous connexion, I carried her off the very next day to Bristol; but the poor creature was so frightened and fluttered, by our threats and expostulations, that she fell sick the fourth day after our arrival at Clifton, and continued so ill for a whole week, that her life was despaired of. It was not till yesterday that Dr Rigge declared her out of danger. You cannot imagine what I have suffered, partly from the indiscretion of this poor child, but much more from the fear of losing her entirely. This air is intolerably cold, and the place quite solitaryI never go down to the Well without returning lowspirited; for there I meet with half a dozen poor emaciated creatures, with ghostly looks, in the last stage of a consumption, who have made shift to linger through the winter like so many exotic plants languishing in a hothouse; but in all appearance, will drop into their graves before the sun has warmth enough to mitigate the rigour of this ungenial spring.If you think the Bathwater will be of any service to me, I will go thither so soon as my niece can bear the motion of the coach. Tell Barns I am obliged to him for his advice; but don't choose to follow it. If Davis voluntarily offers to give up the farm, the other shall have it; but I will not begin at this time of day to distress my tenants, because they are unfortunate, and cannot make regular payments: I wonder that Barns should think me capable of such oppressionAs for Higgins, the fellow is a notorious poacher, to be sure; and an impudent rascal to set his snares in my own paddock; but, I suppose, he thought he had some right (especially in my absence) to partake of what nature seems to have intended for common useyou may threaten him in my name, as much as you please, and if he repeats the offence, let me know it before you have recourse to justice.I know you are a great sportsman, and oblige many of your friends: I need not tell you to make use of my grounds; but it may be necessary to hint, that I am more afraid of my fowlingpiece than of my game. When you can spare two or three brace of partridges, send them over by the stagecoach, and tell Gwyllim that she forgot to pack up my flannel and wide shoes in the trunkmailI shall trouble you as usual, from time to time, till at last I suppose you will be tired of corresponding with Your assured friend, M. BRAMBLE CLIFTON, April 17. To Miss LYDIA MELFORD. Miss Willis has pronounced my doomyou are going away, dear Miss Melford!you are going to be removed, I know not whither! what shall I do? which way shall I turn for consolation? I know not what I sayall night long have I been tossed in a sea of doubts and fears, uncertainty and distraction, without being able to connect my thoughts, much less to form any consistent plan of conductI was even tempted to wish that I had never seen you; or that you had been less amiable, or less compassionate to your poor Wilson; and yet it would be detestable ingratitude in me to form such a wish, considering how much I am indebted to your goodness, and the ineffable pleasure I have derived from your indulgence and approbationGood God! I never heard your name mentioned without emotion! the most distant prospect of being admitted to your company, filled my whole soul with a kind of pleasing alarm! as the time approached, my heart beat with redoubled force, and every nerve thrilled with a transport of expectation; but, when I found myself actually in your presence;when I heard you speak;when I saw you smile; when I beheld your charming eyes turned favourably upon me; my breast was filled with such tumults of delight, as wholly deprived me of the power of utterance, and wrapt me in a delirium of joy!encouraged by your sweetness of temper and affability, I ventured to describe the feelings of my hearteven then you did not check my presumptionyou pitied my sufferings and gave me leave to hope you put a favourableperhaps too favourable a construction, on my appearancecertain it is, I am no player in loveI speak the language of my own heart; and have no prompter but nature. Yet there is something in this heart, which I have not yet disclosed.I flattered myselfBut, I will notI must not proceed. Dear Miss Liddy! for Heaven's sake, contrive, if possible, some means of letting me speak to you before you leave Gloucester; otherwise, I know not what willBut I begin to rave again.I will endeavour to bear this trial with fortitudewhile I am capable of reflecting upon your tenderness and truth, I surely have no cause to despaira cloud hangs over me, and there is a dreadful weight upon my spirits! While you stay in this place, I shall continually hover about your lodgings, as the parted soul is said to linger about the grave where its mortal comfort lies.I know, if it is in your power, you will task your humanityyour compassionshall I add, your affection?in order to assuage the almost intolerable disquiet that torments the heart of your afflicted, WILSON GLOUCESTER, March 31. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. HOT WELL, April 18. DEAR PHILLIPS, I give Mansel credit for his invention, in propagating the report that I had a quarrel with a mountebank's merry Andrew at Gloucester: but I have too much respect for every appendage of wit, to quarrel even with the lowest buffoonery; and therefore I hope Mansel and I shall always be good friends. I cannot, however, approve of his drowning my poor dog Ponto, on purpose to convert Ovid's pleonasm into a punning epitaph,deerant quoque Littora Ponto: for, that he threw him into the Isis, when it was so high and impetuous, with no other view than to kill the fleas, is an excuse that will not hold waterBut I leave poor Ponto to his fate, and hope Providence will take care to accommodate Mansel with a drier death. As there is nothing that can be called company at the Well, I am here in a state of absolute rustication: This, however, gives me leisure to observe the singularities in my uncle's character, which seems to have interested your curiosity. The truth is, his disposition and mine, which, like oil and vinegar, repelled one another at first, have now begun to mix by dint of being beat up together. I was once apt to believe him a complete Cynic; and that nothing but the necessity of his occasions could compel him to get within the pale of societyI am now of another opinion. I think his peevishness arises partly from bodily pain, and partly from a natural excess of mental sensibility; for, I suppose, the mind as well as the body, is in some cases endued with a morbid excess of sensation. I was t'other day much diverted with a conversation that passed in the Pumproom, betwixt him and the famous Dr Ln, who is come to ply at the Well for patients. My uncle was complaining of the stink, occasioned by the vast quantity of mud and slime which the river leaves at low ebb under the windows of the Pumproom. He observed, that the exhalations arising from such a nuisance, could not but be prejudicial to the weak lungs of many consumptive patients, who came to drink the water. The Doctor overhearing this remark, made up to him, and assured him he was mistaken. He said, people in general were so misled by vulgar prejudices that philosophy was hardly sufficient to undeceive them. Then humming thrice, he assumed a most ridiculous solemnity of aspect, and entered into a learned investigation of the nature of stink. He observed, that stink, or stench, meant no more than a strong impression on the olfactory nerves; and might be applied to substances of the most opposite qualities; that in the Dutch language, stinken signifies the most agreeable perfume, as well as the most fetid odour, as appears in Van Vloudel's translation of Horace, in that beautiful ode, Quis multa gracilis, c.The words fiquidis perfusus odoribus, he translates van civet  moschata gestinken: that individuals differed toto coelo in their opinion of smells, which, indeed, was altogether as arbitrary as the opinion of beauty; that the French were pleased with the putrid effluvia of animal food; and so were the Hottentots in Africa, and the Savages in Greenland; and that the Negroes on the coast of Senegal would not touch fish till it was rotten; strong presumptions in favour of what is generally called stink, as those nations are in a state of nature, undebauched by luxury, unseduced by whim and caprice: that he had reason to believe the stercoraceous flavour, condemned by prejudice as a stink, was, in fact, most agreeable to the organs of smelling; for, that every person who pretended to nauseate the smell of another's excretions, snuffed up his own with particular complacency; for the truth of which he appealed to all the ladies and gentlemen then present: he said, the inhabitants of Madrid and Edinburgh found particular satisfaction in breathing their own atmosphere, which was always impregnated with stercoraceous effluvia: that the learned Dr B, in his treatise on the Four Digestions, explains in what manner the volatile effluvia from the intestines stimulate and promote the operations of the animal economy: he affirmed, the last Grand Duke of Tuscany, of the Medicis family, who refined upon sensuality with the spirit of a philosopher, was so delighted with that odour, that he caused the essence of ordure to be extracted, and used it as the most delicious perfume: that he himself (the doctor) when he happened to be lowspirited, or fatigued with business, found immediate relief and uncommon satisfaction from hanging over the stale contents of a closestool, while his servant stirred it about under his nose; nor was this effect to be wondered at, when we consider that this substance abounds with the selfsame volatile salts that are so greedily smelled to by the most delicate invalids, after they have been extracted and sublimed by the chemists.By this time the company began to hold their noses; but the doctor, without taking the least notice of this signal, proceeded to shew, that many fetid substances were not only agreeable but salutary; such as assa foetida, and other medicinal gums, resins, roots, and vegetables, over and above burnt feathers, tanpits, candlesnuffs, c. In short, he used many learned arguments to persuade his audience out of their senses; and from stench made a transition to filth, which he affirmed was also a mistaken idea, in as much as objects so called, were no other than certain modifications of matter, consisting of the same principles that enter into the composition of all created essences, whatever they may be: that in the filthiest production of nature, a philosopher considered nothing but the earth, water, salt and air, of which it was compounded; that, for his own part, he had no more objections to drinking the dirtiest ditchwater, than he had to a glass of water from the Hot Well, provided he was assured there was nothing poisonous in the concrete. Then addressing himself to my uncle, 'Sir (said he) you seem to be of a dropsical habit, and probably will soon have a confirmed ascites: if I should be present when you are tapped, I will give you a convincing proof of what I assert, by drinking without hesitation the water that comes out of your abdomen.'The ladies made wry faces at this declaration, and my uncle, changing colour, told him he did not desire any such proof of his philosophy: 'But I should be glad to know (said he) what makes you think I am of a dropsical habit?' 'Sir, I beg pardon (replied the Doctor) I perceive your ancles are swelled, and you seem to have the facies leucophlegmatica. Perhaps, indeed, your disorder may be oedematous, or gouty, or it may be the lues venerea: If you have any reason to flatter yourself it is this last, sir, I will undertake to cure you with three small pills, even if the disease should have attained its utmost inveteracy. Sir, it is an arcanum, which I have discovered, and prepared with infinite labour.Sir, I have lately cured a woman in Bristola common prostitute, sir, who had got all the worst symptoms of the disorder; such as nodi, tophi, and gummata, verruca, cristoe Galli, and a serpiginous eruption, or rather a pocky itch all over her body. By the time she had taken the second pill, sir, by Heaven! she was as smooth as my hand, and the third made her sound and as fresh as a new born infant.' 'Sir (cried my uncle peevishly) I have no reason to flatter myself that my disorder comes within the efficacy of your nostrum. But this patient you talk of may not be so sound at bottom as you imagine.' 'I can't possibly be mistaken (rejoined the philosopher) for I have had communication with her three timesI always ascertain my cures in that manner.' At this remark, all the ladies retired to another corner of the room, and some of them began to spit.As to my uncle, though he was ruffled at first by the doctor's saying he was dropsical, he could not help smiling at this ridiculous confession and, I suppose, with a view to punish this original, told him there was a wart upon his nose, that looked a little suspicious. 'I don't pretend to be a judge of those matters (said he) but I understand that warts are often produced by the distemper; and that one upon your nose seems to have taken possession of the very keystone of the bridge, which I hope is in no danger of falling.' Ln seemed a little confounded at this remark, and assured him it was nothing but a common excrescence of the cuticula, but that the bones were all sound below; for the truth of this assertion he appealed to the touch, desiring he would feel the part. My uncle said it was a matter of such delicacy to meddle with a gentleman's nose, that he declined the officeupon which, the Doctor turning to me, intreated me to do him that favour. I complied with his request, and handled it so roughly, that he sneezed, and the tears ran down his cheeks, to the no small entertainment of the company, and particularly of my uncle, who burst out alaughing for the first time since I have been with him; and took notice, that the part seemed to be very tender. 'Sir (cried the Doctor) it is naturally a tender part; but to remove all possibility of doubt, I will take off the wart this very night.' So saying, he bowed, with great solemnity all round, and retired to his own lodgings, where he applied a caustic to the wart; but it spread in such a manner as to produce a considerable inflammation, attended with an enormous swelling; so that when he next appeared, his whole face was overshadowed by this tremendous nozzle; and the rueful eagerness with which he explained this unlucky accident, was ludicrous beyond all description.I was much pleased with meeting the original of a character, which you and I have often laughed at in description; and what surprises me very much, I find the features in the picture, which has been drawn for him, rather softened than overcharged. As I have something else to say; and this letter has run to an unconscionable length, I shall now give you a little respite, and trouble you again by the very first post. I wish you would take it in your head to retaliate these double strokes upon Yours always, J. MELFORD To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. HOT WELL, April 20. DEAR KNIGHT, I now sit down to execute the threat in the tail of my last. The truth is, I am big with the secret, and long to be delivered. It relates to my guardian, who, you know, is at present our principal object in view. T'other day, I thought I had detected him in such a state of frailty, as would but ill become his years and character. There is a decent sort of woman, not disagreeable in her person, that comes to the Well, with a poor emaciated child, far gone in a consumption. I had caught my uncle's eyes several times directed to this person, with a very suspicious expression in them, and every time he saw himself observed, he hastily withdrew them, with evident marks of confusionI resolved to watch him more narrowly, and saw him speaking to her privately in a corner of the walk. At length, going down to the Well one day, I met her half way up the hill to Clifton, and could not help suspecting she was going to our lodgings by appointment, as it was about one o'clock, the hour when my sister and I are generally at the Pumproom.This notion exciting my curiosity, I returned by a backway, and got unperceived into my own chamber, which is contiguous to my uncle's apartment. Sure enough, the woman was introduced but not into his bedchamber; he gave her audience in a parlour; so that I was obliged to shift my station to another room, where, however, there was a small chink in the partition, through which I could perceive what passed. My uncle, though a little lame, rose up when she came in, and setting a chair for her, desired she would sit down: then he asked if she would take a dish of chocolate, which she declined, with much acknowledgment. After a short pause, he said, in a croaking tone of voice, which confounded me not a little, 'Madam, I am truly concerned for your misfortunes; and if this trifle can be of any service to you, I beg you will accept it without ceremony.' So saying, he put a bit of paper into her hand, which she opening with great trepidation, exclaimed in an extacy, 'Twenty pounds! Oh, sir!' and sinking down upon a settee, fainted awayFrightened at this fit, and, I suppose, afraid of calling for assistance, lest her situation should give rise to unfavourable conjectures, he ran about the room in distraction, making frightful grimaces; and, at length, had recollection enough to throw a little water in her face; by which application she was brought to herself: but, then her feeling took another turn. She shed a flood of tears, and cried aloud, 'I know not who you are: but, sureworthy sirgenerous sir!the distress of me and my poor dying childOh! if the widow's prayersif the orphan's tears of gratitude can ought availgracious ProvidenceBlessings!shower down eternal blessings.'Here she was interrupted by my uncle, who muttered in a voice still more and more discordant, 'For Heaven's sake be quiet, madamconsiderthe people of the house'sdeath! can't you.'All this time she was struggling to throw herself on her knees, while he seizing her by the wrists, endeavoured to seat her upon the settee, saying, 'Pritheegood nowhold your tongue'At that instant, who should burst intothe room but our aunt Tabby! of all antiquated maidens the most diabolically capriciousEver prying into other people's affairs, she had seen the woman enter, and followed her to the door, where she stood listening, but probably could hear nothing distinctly, except my uncle's, last exclamation; at which she bounded into the parlour in a violent rage, that dyed the tip of her nose of a purple hue,'Fy upon you, Matt! (cried she) what doings are these, to disgrace your own character, and disparage your family?'Then, snatching the bank note out of the stranger's hand, she went on'How now, twenty pounds!here is temptation with a witness!Goodwoman, go about your businessBrother, brother, I know not which most to admire; your concupissins, or your extravagance!''Good God (exclaimed the poor woman) shall a worthy gentleman's character suffer for an action that does honour to humanity?' By this time, uncle's indignation was effectually roused. His face grew pale, his teeth chattered, and his eyes flashed'Sister (cried he, in a voice like thunder) I vow to God, your impertinence is exceedingly provoking.' With these words, he took her by the hand, and, opening the door of communication, thrust her into the chamber where I stood, so affected by the scene, that the tears ran down my cheeks. Observing these marks of emotion, 'I don't wonder (said she) to see you concerned at the backslidings of so near a relation; a man of his years and infirmities: These are fine doings, trulyThis is a rare example, set by a guardian, for the benefit of his pupilsMonstrous! incongruous! sophistical!'I thought it was but an act of justice to set her to rights; and therefore explained the mystery. But she would not be undeceived, 'What (said she) would you go for to offer for to arguefy me out of my senses? Did'n't I hear him whispering to her to hold her tongue? Did'n't I see her in tears? Did'n't I see him struggling to throw her upon the couch? 0 filthy! hideous! abominable! Child, child, talk not to me of charity.Who gives twenty pounds in charity?But you are a striplingYou know nothing of the world. Besides, charity begins at homeTwenty pounds would buy me a complete suit of flowered silk, trimmings and all' In short, I quitted the room, my contempt for her, and my respect for her brother, being increased in the same proportion. I have since been informed, that the person, whom my uncle so generously relieved, is the widow of an ensign, who has nothing to depend upon but the pension of fifteen pounds a year. The people of the Wellhouse give her an excellent character. She lodges in a garret, and works very hard at plain work, to support her daughter, who is dying of a consumption. I must own, to my shame, I feel a strong inclination to follow my uncle's example, in relieving this poor widow; but, betwixt friends, I am afraid of being detected in a weakness, that might entail the ridicule of the company, upon, Dear Phillips, Yours always, J. MELFORD Direct your next to me at Bath; and remember me to all our fellowjesuits. To Dr LEWIS. HOT WELL, April 20. I understand your hint. There are mysteries in physic, as well as in religion; which we of the profane have no right to investigateA man must not presume to use his reason, unless he has studied the categories, and can chop logic by mode and figureBetween friends, I think every man of tolerable parts ought, at my time of day, to be both physician and lawyer, as far as his own constitution and property are concerned. For my own part, I have had an hospital these fourteen years within myself, and studied my own case with the most painful attention; consequently may be supposed to know something of the matter, although I have not taken regular courses of physiology et cetera et cetera. In short, I have for some time been of opinion (no offence, dear Doctor) that the sum of all your medical discoveries amounts to this, that the more you study the less you know.I have read all that has been written on the Hot Wells, and what I can collect from the whole, is, that the water contains nothing but a little salt, and calcarious earth, mixed in such inconsiderable proportion, as can have very little, if any, effect on the animal economy. This being the case, I think the man deserves to be fitted with a cap and bells, who for such a paultry advantage as this spring affords, sacrifices his precious time, which might be employed in taking more effectual remedies, and exposes himself to the dirt, the stench, the chilling blasts, and perpetual rains, that render this place to me intolerable. If these waters, from a small degree of astringency, are of some service in the diabetes, diarrhoea, and night sweats, when the secretions are too much increased, must not they do harm in the same proportion, where the humours are obstructed, as in the asthma, scurvy, gout and dropsy?Now we talk of the dropsy, here is a strange fantastical oddity, one of your brethren, who harangues every day in the Pumproom, as if he was hired to give lectures on all subjects whatsoeverI know not what to make of himSometimes he makes shrewd remarks; at other times he talks like the greatest simpleton in natureHe has read a great deal; but without method or judgment, and digested nothing. He believes every thing he has read; especially if it has any thing of the marvellous in it and his conversation is a surprizing hotchpotch of erudition and extravagance. He told me t'other day, with great confidence, that my case was dropsical; or, as he called it, leucophlegmatic: A sure sign, that his want of experience is equal to his presumptionfor, you know, there is nothing analogous to the dropsy in my disorderI wish those impertinent fellows, with their ricketty understandings, would keep their advice for those that ask it. Dropsy, indeed! Sure I have not lived to the age of fiftyfive, and had such experience of my own disorder, and consulted you and other eminent physicians, so often, and so long, to be undeceived by such aBut, without all doubt, the man is mad; and, therefore, what he says is of no consequence. I had, yesterday, a visit from Higgins, who came hither under the terror of your threats, and brought me in a present a brace of hares, which he owned he took in my ground; and I could not persuade the fellow that he did wrong, or that I would ever prosecute him for poachingI must desire you will wink hard at the practices of this rascallion, otherwise I shall be plagued with his presents, which cost me more than they are worth.If I could wonder at any thing Fitzowen does, I should be surprized at his assurance in desiring you to solicit my vote for him at the next election for the county: for him, who opposed me, on the like occasion, with the most illiberal competition. You may tell him civilly, that I beg to be excused. Direct your next for me at Bath, whither I propose to remove tomorrow; not only on my own account, but for the sake of my niece, Liddy, who is like to relapse. The poor creature fell into a fit yesterday, while I was cheapening a pair of spectacles, with a Jewpedlar. I am afraid there is something still lurking in that little heart of hers, which I hope a change of objects will remove. Let me know what you think of this halfwitted Doctor's impertinent, ridiculous, and absurd notion of my disorderSo far from being dropsical, I am as lank in the belly as a greyhound; and, by measuring my ancle with a packthread, I find the swelling subsides every day. From such doctors, good Lord deliver us!I have not yet taken any lodgings in Bath; because there we can be accommodated at a minute's warning, and I shall choose for myselfI need not say your directions for drinking and bathing will be agreeable to, Dear Lewis, Yours ever, MAT. BRAMBLE P.S. I forgot to tell you, that my right ancle pits, a symptom, as I take it, of its being oedematous, not leucophlegmatic. To Miss LETTY WILLIS, at Gloucester HOT WELL, April 21. MY DEAR LETTY, I did not intend to trouble you again, till we should be settled at Bath; but having the occasion of Jarvis, I could not let it slip, especially as I have something extraordinary to communicate. O, my dear companion! What shall I tell you? for several days past there was a Jewlooking man, that plied at the Wells with a box of spectacles; and he always eyed me so earnestly, that I began to be very uneasy. At last, he came to our lodgings at Clifton, and lingered about the door, as if he wanted to speak to somebodyI was seized with an odd kind of fluttering, and begged Win to throw herself in his way: but the poor girl has weak nerves, and was afraid of his beard. My uncle, having occasion for new glasses, called him up stairs, and was trying a pair of spectacles, when the man, advancing to me, said in a whisperO gracious! what d'ye think he said?'I am Wilson!' His features struck me that very moment it was Wilson, sure enough! but so disguised, that it would have been impossible to know him, if my heart had not assisted in the discovery. I was so surprised, and so frightened that I fainted away, but soon recovered; and found myself supported by him on the chair, while my uncle was running about the room, with the spectacles on his nose, calling for help. I had no opportunity to speak to him; but looks were sufficiently expressive. He was payed for his glasses, and went away. Then I told Win who he was, and sent her after him to the Pumproom; where she spoke to him, and begged him in my name to withdraw from the place, that he might not incur the suspicion of my uncle or my brother, if he did not want to see me die of terror and vexation. The poor youth declared, with tears in his eyes, that he had something extraordinary to communicate; and asked, if she would deliver a letter to me: but this she absolutely refused, by my order.Finding her obstinate in her refusal, he desired she would tell me that he was no longer a player, but a gentleman; in which character he would very soon avow his passion for me, without fear of censure or reproachNay, he even discovered his name and family, which, to my great grief, the simple girl forgot, in the confusion occasioned by her being seen talking to him by my brother, who stopt her on the road, and asked what business she had with that rascally Jew. She pretended she was cheapening a stayhook, but was thrown into such a quandary, that she forgot the most material part of the information; and when she came home, went into an hysteric fit of laughing. This transaction happened three days ago, during which he has not appeared, so that I suppose he has gone. Dear Letty! you see how Fortune takes pleasure in persecuting your poor friend. If you should see him at Gloucesteror if you have seen him, and know his real name and family, pray keep me no longer in suspenceAnd yet, if he is under no obligation to keep himself longer concealed, and has a real affection for me, I should hope he will, in a little time, declare himself to my relations. Sure, if there is nothing unsuitable in the match, they won't be so cruel as to thwart my inclinationsO what happiness would then be my portion! I can't help indulging the thought, and pleasing my fancy with such agreeable ideas; which after all, perhaps, will never be realizedBut, why should I despair? who knows what will happen?We set out for Bath tomorrow, and I am almost sorry for it; as I begin to be in love with solitude, and this is a charming romantic place. The air is so pure; the Downs are so agreeable; the furz in full blossom; the ground enamelled with daisies, and primroses, and cowslips; all the trees bursting into leaves, and the hedges already clothed with their vernal livery; the mountains covered with flocks of sheep and tender bleating wanton lambkins playing, frisking, and skipping from side to side; the groves resound with the notes of blackbird, thrush, and linnet; and all night long sweet Philomel pours forth her ravishingly delightful song. Then, for variety, we go down to the nymph of Bristol spring, where the company is assembled before dinner; so good natured, so free, so easy; and there we drink the water so clear, so pure, so mild, so charmingly maukish. There the fun is so chearful and reviving; the weather so soft; the walk so agreeable; the prospect so amusing; and the ships and boats going up and down the river, close under the windows of the Pumproom, afford such an enchanting variety of Moving Pictures, as require a much abler pen than mine to describe. To make this place a perfect paradise to me, nothing is wanting but an agreeable companion and sincere friend; such as my dear miss Willis hath been, and I hope still will be, to her ever faithful. LYDIA MELFORD Direct for me, still under cover, to Win; and Jarvis will take care to convey it safe. Adieu. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. BATH, April 24. DEAR PHILLIPS, You have, indeed, reason to be surprised, that I should have concealed my correspondence with miss Blackerby from you, to whom I disclosed all my other connexions of that nature; but the truth is, I never dreamed of any such commerce, till your last informed me, that it had produced something which could not be much longer concealed. It is a lucky circumstance, however, that her reputation will not suffer any detriment, but rather derive advantage from the discovery; which will prove, at least, that it is not quite so rotten as most people imaginedFor my own part, I declare to you, in all the sincerity of friendship, that, far from having any amorous intercourse with the object in question, I never had the least acquaintance with her person; but, if she is really in the condition you describe, I suspect Mansel to be at the bottom of the whole. His visits to that shrine were no secret; and this attachment, added to some good offices, which you know he has done me, since I left Almamater, give me a right to believe him capable of saddling me with this scandal, when my back was turnedNevertheless, if my name can be of any service to him, he is welcome to make use of it; and if the woman should be abandoned enough to swear his banding to me, I must beg the favour of you to compound with the parish: I shall pay the penalty without repining; and you will be so good as to draw upon me immediately for the sum requiredOn this occasion, I act by the advice of my uncle; who says I shall have goodluck if I pass through life without being obliged to make many more compositions of the same kind. The old gentleman told me last night, with great goodhumour, that betwixt the age of twenty and forty, he had been obliged to provide for nine bastards, sworn to him by women whom he never sawMr Bramble's character, which seems to interest you greatly, opens and improves upon me every day. His singularities afford a rich mine of entertainment; his understanding, so far as I can judge, is well cultivated; his observations on life are equally just, pertinent, and uncommon. He affects misanthropy, in order to conceal the sensibility of a heart, which is tender, even to a degree of weakness. This delicacy of feeling, or soreness of the mind, makes him timorous and fearful; but then he is afraid of nothing so much as of dishonour; and although he is exceedingly cautious of giving offence, he will fire at the least hint of insolence or illbreeding.Respectable as he is, upon the whole, I can't help being sometimes diverted by his little distresses; which provoke him to let fly the shafts of his satire, keen and penetrating as the arrows of TeucerOur aunt, Tabitha, acts upon him as a perpetual grindstoneShe is, in all respects, a striking contrast to her brotherBut I reserve her portrait for another occasion. Three days ago we came hither from the Hot Well, and took possession of the first floor of a lodginghouse, on the South Parade; a situation which my uncle chose, for its being near the Bath, and remote from the noise of carriages. He was scarce warm in the lodgings when he called for his nightcap, his wide shoes, and flannel; and declared himself invested with the gout in his right foot; though, I believe it had as yet reached no farther than his imagination. It was not long before he had reason to repent his premature declaration; for our aunt Tabitha found means to make such a clamour and confusion, before the flannels could be produced from the trunk, that one would have imagined the house was on fire. All this time, uncle sat boiling with impatience, biting his fingers, throwing up his eyes, and muttering ejaculations; at length he burst into a kind of convulsive laugh, after which he hummed a song; and when the hurricane was over, exclaimed 'Blessed be God for all things!' This, however, was but the beginning of his troubles. Mrs Tabitha's favourite dog Chowder, having paid his compliments to a female turnspit of his own species, in the kitchen, involved himself in a quarrel with no fewer than five rivals, who set upon him at once, and drove him up stairs to the dining room door, with hideous noise: there our aunt and her woman, taking arms in his defence, joined the concert; which became truly diabolical. This fray being with difficulty suppressed, by the intervention of our own footman and the cookmaid of the house, the squire had just opened his mouth, to expostulate with Tabby, when the townwaits, in the passage below, struck up their music (if music it may be called) with such a sudden burst of sound, as made him start and stare, with marks of indignation and disquiet. He had recollection enough to send his servant with some money to silence those noisy intruders; and they were immediately dismissed, though not without some opposition on the part of Tabitha, who thought it but reasonable that he should have more music for his money. Scarce had he settled this knotty point, when a strange kind of thumping and bouncing was heard right overhead, in the second story, so loud and violent, as to shake the whole building. I own I was exceedingly provoked at this new alarm; and before my uncle had time to express himself on the subject, I ran up stairs, to see what was the matter. Finding the roomdoor open, I entered without ceremony, and perceived an object, which I can not now recollect without laughing to excessIt was a dancing master, with his scholar, in the act of teaching. The master was blind of one eye, and lame of one foot, and led about the room his pupil; who seemed to be about the age of threescore, stooped mortally, was tall, rawboned, hardfavoured, with a woollen nightcap on his head; and he had stript off his coat, that he might be more nimble in his motionsFinding himself intruded upon, by a person he did not know, he forthwith girded himself with a long iron sword, and advancing to me, with a peremptory air, pronounced, in a true Hibernian accent, 'Mister What d'ye callum, by my saoul and conscience, I am very glad to sea you, if you are after coming in the way of friendship; and indeed, and indeed now, I believe you are my friend sure enough, gra; though I never had the honour to sea your face before, my dear; for becaase you come like a friend, without any ceremony at all, at all'I told him the nature of my visit would not admit of ceremony; that I was come to desire he would make less noise, as there was a sick gentleman below, whom he had no right to disturb with such preposterous doings. 'Why, lookye now, young gentleman (replied this original) perhaps, upon another occasion, I might shivilly request you to explain the maining of that hard word, prepasterous: but there's a time for all things, honey'So saying, he passed me with great agility, and, running down stairs, found our footman at the diningroom door, of whom he demanded admittance, to pay his respects to the stranger. As the fellow did not think proper to refuse the request of such a formidable figure, he was immediately introduced, and addressed himself to my uncle in these words: 'Your humble servant, good sir,I'm not so prepasterous, as your son calls it, but I know the rules of shivilityI'm a poor knight of Ireland, my name is sir Ulic Mackilligut, of the county of Galway; being your fellowlodger, I'm come to pay my respects, and to welcome you to the South Parade, and to offer my best services to you, and your good lady, and your pretty daughter; and even to the young gentleman your son, though he thinks me a prepasterous fellowYou must know I am to have the honour to open a ball next door tomorrow with lady Mac Manus; and being rusted in my dancing, I was refreshing my memory with a little exercise; but if I had known there was a sick person below, by Christ! I would have sooner danced a hornpipe upon my own head, than walk the softest minuet over yours.'My uncle, who was not a little startled at his first appearance, received his compliment with great complacency, insisted upon his being seated, thanked him for the honour of his visit, and reprimanded me for my abrupt expostulation with a gentleman of his rank and character. Thus tutored, I asked pardon of the knight, who, forthwith starting up, embraced me so close, that I could hardly breathe; and assured me, he loved me as his own soul. At length, recollecting his nightcap, he pulled it off in some confusion; and, with his baldpate uncovered, made a thousand apologies to the ladies, as he retiredAt that instant, the Abbey bells, began to ring so loud, that we could not hear one another speak; and this peal, as we afterwards learned, was for the honour of Mr Bullock, an eminent cowkeeper of Tottenham, who had just arrived at Bath, to drink the waters for indigestion. Mr Bramble had not time to make his remarks upon the agreeable nature of this serenade, before his ears were saluted with another concert that interested him more nearly. Two negroes, belonging to a Creole gentleman, who lodged in the same house, taking their station at a window in the staircase, about ten feet from our diningroom door, began to practise upon the Frenchhorn; and being in the very first rudiments of execution, produced such discordant sounds, as might have discomposed the organs of an ass. You may guess what effect they had upon the irritable nerves of uncle; who, with the most admirable expression of splenetic surprize in his countenance, sent his man to silence these dreadful blasts, and desire the musicians to practise in some other place, as they had no right to stand there and disturb all the lodgers in the house. Those sable performers, far from taking the hint, and withdrawing, treated the messenger with great insolence; bidding him carry his compliments to their master, colonel Rigworm, who would give him a proper answer, and a good drubbing into the bargain; in the mean time they continued their noise, and even endeavoured to make it more disagreeable; laughing between whiles, at the thoughts of being able to torment their betters with impunity. Our 'squire, incensed at the additional insult, immediately dispatched the servant, with his compliments to colonel Rigworm, requesting that he would order his blacks to be quiet, as the noise they made was altogether intolerableTo this message, the Creole colonel replied, that his horns had a right to sound on a common staircase; that there they should play for his diversion; and that those who did not like the noise, might look for lodgings elsewhere. Mr Bramble no sooner received this reply, than his eyes began to glisten, his face grew pale, and his teeth chattered. After a moment's pause, he slipt on his shoes, without speaking a word, or seeming to feel any further disturbance from the gout in his toes. Then snatching his cane, he opened the door and proceeded to the place where the black trumpeters were posted. There, without further hesitation, he began to belabour them both; and exerted himself with such astonishing vigour and agility, that both their heads and horns were broken in a twinkling, and they ran howling down stairs to their master's parlourdoor. The squire, following them half way, called aloud, that the colonel might hear him, 'Go, rascals, and tell your master what I have done; if he thinks himself injured, he knows where to come for satisfaction. As for you, this is but an earnest of what you shall receive, if ever you presume to blow a horn again here, while I stay in the house.' So saying, he retired to his apartment, in expectation of hearing from the West Indian; but the colonel prudently declined any farther prosecution of the dispute. My sister Liddy was frighted into a fit, from which she was no sooner recovered, than Mrs Tabitha began a lecture upon patience; which her brother interrupted with a most significant grin, 'True, sister, God increase my patience and your discretion. I wonder (added he) what sort of sonata we are to expect from this overture, in which the devil, that presides over horrid sounds, hath given us such variations of discordThe trampling of porters, the creaking and crashing of trunks, the snarling of curs, the scolding of women, the squeaking and squalling of fiddles and hautboys out of tune, the bouncing of the Irish baronet overhead, and the bursting, belching, and brattling of the Frenchhorns in the passage (not to mention the harmonious peal that still thunders from the Abbey steeple) succeeding one another without interruption, like the different parts of the same concert, have given me such an idea of what a poor invalid has to expect in this temple, dedicated to Silence and Repose, that I shall certainly shift my quarters tomorrow, and endeavour to effectuate my retreat before Sir Ulic opens the ball with my lady Mac Manus; a conjunction that bodes me no good.' This intimation was by no means agreeable to Mrs Tabitha, whose ears were not quite so delicate as those of her brotherShe said it would be great folly to move from such agreeable lodgings, the moment they were comfortably settled. She wondered he should be such an enemy to music and mirth. She heard no noise but of his own making: it was impossible to manage a family in dumbshew. He might harp as long as he pleased upon her scolding; but she never scolded, except for his advantage; but he would never be satisfied, even tho'f she should sweat blood and water in his serviceI have a great notion that our aunt, who is now declining into the most desperate state of celibacy, had formed some design upon the heart of Sir Ulic Mackilligut, which she feared might be frustrated by our abrupt departure from these lodgings. Her brother, eyeing her askance, 'Pardon me, sister (said he) I should be a savage, indeed, were I insensible of my own felicity, in having such a mild, complaisant, goodhumoured, and considerate companion and housekeeper; but as I have got a weak head, and my sense of hearing is painfully acute, before I have recourse to plugs of wool and cotton, I'll try whether I can't find another lodging, where I shall have more quiet and less music.' He accordingly dispatched his man upon this service; and next day he found a small house in Milshamstreet, which he hires by the week. Here, at least, we enjoy convenience and quiet within doors, as much as Tabby's temper will allow; but the squire still complains of flying pains in the stomach and head, for which he bathes and drinks the waters. He is not so bad, however, but that he goes in person to the pump, the rooms, and the coffeehouses; where he picks up continual food for ridicule and satire. If I can glean any thing for your amusement, either from his observation or my own, you shall have it freely, though I am afraid it will poorly compensate the trouble of reading these tedious insipid letters of, Dear Phillips, Yours always, J. MELFORD To Dr LEWIS. BATH, April 23. DEAR DOCTOR, If I did not know that the exercise of your profession has habituated you to the hearing of complaints, I should make a conscience of troubling you with my correspondence, which may be truly called the lamentations of Matthew Bramble. Yet I cannot help thinking I have some right to discharge the overflowings of my spleen upon you, whose province it is to remove those disorders that occasioned it; and let me tell you, it is no small alleviation of my grievances, that I have a sensible friend, to whom I can communicate my crusty humours, which, by retention, would grow intolerably acrimonious. You must know, I find nothing but disappointment at Bath; which is so altered, that I can scarce believe it is the same place that I frequented about thirty years ago. Methinks I hear you say, 'Altered it is, without all doubt: but then it is altered for the better; a truth which, perhaps, you would own without hesitation, if you yourself was not altered for the worse.' The reflection may, for aught I know, be just. The inconveniences which I overlooked in the highday of health, will naturally strike with exaggerated impression on the irritable nerves of an invalid, surprised by premature old age, and shattered with longsufferingBut, I believe, you will not deny, that this place, which Nature and Providence seem to have intended as a resource from distemper and disquiet, is become the very centre of racket and dissipation. Instead of that peace, tranquillity, and case, so necessary to those who labour under bad health, weak nerves, and irregular spirits; here we have nothing but noise, tumult, and hurry; with the fatigue and slavery of maintaining a ceremonial, more stiff, formal, and oppressive, than the etiquette of a German elector. A national hospital it may be, but one would imagine that none but lunatics are admitted; and truly, I will give you leave to call me so, if I stay much longer at Bath.But I shall take another opportunity to explain my sentiments at greater length on this subjectI was impatient to see the boasted improvements in architecture, for which the upper parts of the town have been so much celebrated and t'other day I made a circuit of all the new buildings. The Square, though irregular, is, on the whole, pretty well laid out, spacious, open, and airy; and, in my opinion, by far the most wholesome and agreeable situation in Bath, especially the upper side of it; but the avenues to it are mean, dirty, dangerous, and indirect. Its communication with the Baths, is through the yard of an inn, where the poor trembling valetudinarian is carried in a chair, betwixt the heels of a double row of horses, wincing under the currycombs of grooms and postilions, over and above the hazard of being obstructed, or overturned by the carriages which are continually making their exit or their entranceI suppose after some chairmen shall have been maimed, and a few lives lost by those accidents, the corporation will think, in earnest, about providing a more safe and commodious passage. The Circus is a pretty bauble, contrived for shew, and looks like Vespasian's amphitheatre turned outside in. If we consider it in point of magnificence, the great number of small doors belonging to the separate houses, the inconsiderable height of the different orders, the affected ornaments of the architrave, which are both childish and misplaced, and the areas projecting into the street, surrounded with iron rails, destroy a good part of its effect upon the eye; and, perhaps, we shall find it still more defective, if we view it in the light of convenience. The figure of each separate dwellinghouse, being the segment of a circle, must spoil the symmetry of the rooms, by contracting them towards the street windows, and leaving a larger sweep in the space behind. If, instead of the areas and iron rails, which seem to be of very little use, there had been a corridore with arcades all round, as in Coventgarden, the appearance of the whole would have been more magnificent and striking; those arcades would have afforded an agreeable covered walk, and sheltered the poor chairmen and their carriages from the rain, which is here almost perpetual. At present, the chairs stand soaking in the open street, from morning to night, till they become so many boxes of wet leather, for the benefit of the gouty and rheumatic, who are transported in them from place to place. Indeed this is a shocking inconvenience that extends over the whole city; and, I am persuaded, it produces infinite mischief to the delicate and infirm; even the close chairs, contrived for the sick, by standing in the open air, have their frize linings impregnated like so many spunges, with the moisture of the atmosphere, and those cases of cold vapour must give a charming check to the perspiration of a patient, piping hot from the Bath, with all his pores wide open. But, to return to the Circus; it is inconvenient from its situation, at so great a distance from all the markets, baths, and places of public entertainment. The only entrance to it, through Gaystreet, is so difficult, steep, and slippery, that in wet weather, it must be exceedingly dangerous, both for those that ride in carriages, and those that walk afoot; and when the street is covered with snow, as it was for fifteen days successively this very winter, I don't see how any individual could go either up or down, without the most imminent hazard of broken bones. In blowing weather, I am told, most of the houses in this hill are smothered with smoke, forced down the chimneys, by the gusts of wind reverberated from the hill behind, which (I apprehend likewise) must render the atmosphere here more humid and unwholesome than it is in the square below; for the clouds, formed by the constant evaporation from the baths and rivers in the bottom, will, in their ascent this way, be first attracted and detained by the hill that rises close behind the Circus, and load the air with a perpetual succession of vapours: this point, however, may be easily ascertained by means of an hygrometer, or a paper of salt of tartar exposed to the action of the atmosphere. The same artist who planned the Circus, has likewise projected a Crescent; when that is finished, we shall probably have a Star; and those who are living thirty years hence, may, perhaps, see all the signs of the Zodiac exhibited in architecture at Bath. These, however fantastical, are still designs that denote some ingenuity and knowledge in the architect; but the rage of building has laid hold on such a number of adventurers, that one sees new houses starting up in every outlet and every corner of Bath; contrived without judgment, executed without solidity, and stuck together with so little regard to plan and propriety, that the different lines of the new rows and buildings interfere with, and intersect one another in every different angle of conjunction. They look like the wreck of streets and squares disjointed by an earthquake, which hath broken the ground into a variety of holes and hillocks; or as if some Gothic devil had stuffed them altogether in a bag, and left them to stand higgledy piggledy, just as chance directed. What sort of a monster Bath will become in a few years, with those growing excrescences, may be easily conceived: but the want of beauty and proportion is not the worst effect of these new mansions; they are built so slight, with the soft crumbling stone found in this neighbourhood, that I shall never sleep quietly in one of them, when it blowed (as the sailors say) a capfull of wind; and, I am persuaded, that my hind, Roger Williams, or any man of equal strength, would be able to push his foot through the strongest part of their walls, without any great exertion of his muscles. All these absurdities arise from the general tide of luxury, which hath overspread the nation, and swept away all, even the very dregs of the people. Every upstart of fortune, harnessed in the trappings of the mode, presents himself at Bath, as in the very focus of observationClerks and factors from the East Indies, loaded with the spoil of plundered provinces; planters, negrodrivers, and hucksters from our American plantations, enriched they know not how; agents, commissaries, and contractors, who have fattened, in two successive wars, on the blood of the nation; usurers, brokers, and jobbers of every kind; men of low birth, and no breeding, have found themselves suddenly translated into a state of affluence, unknown to former ages; and no wonder that their brains should be intoxicated with pride, vanity, and presumption. Knowing no other criterion of greatness, but the ostentation of wealth, they discharge their affluence without taste or conduct, through every channel of the most absurd extravagance; and all of them hurry to Bath, because here, without any further qualification, they can mingle with the princes and nobles of the land. Even the wives and daughters of low tradesmen, who, like shovelnosed sharks, prey upon the blubber of those uncouth whales of fortune, are infected with the same rage of displaying their importance; and the slightest indisposition serves them for a pretext to insist upon being conveyed to Bath, where they may hobble countrydances and cotillons among lordlings, squires, counsellors, and clergy. These delicate creatures from Bedfordbury, Butcherrow, Crutchedfriers, and Botolphlane, cannot breathe in the gross air of the Lower Town, or conform to the vulgar rules of a common lodginghouse; the husband, therefore, must provide an entire house, or elegant apartments in the new buildings. Such is the composition of what is called the fashionable company at Bath; where a very inconsiderable proportion of genteel people are lost in a mob of impudent plebeians, who have neither understanding nor judgment, nor the least idea of propriety and decorum; and seem to enjoy nothing so much as an opportunity of insulting their betters. Thus the number of people, and the number of houses continue to increase; and this will ever be the case, till the streams that swell this irresistible torrent of folly and extravagance, shall either be exhausted, or turned into other channels, by incidents and events which I do not pretend to foresee. This, I own, is a subject on which I cannot write with any degree of patience; for the mob is a monster I never could abide, either in its head, tail, midriff, or members; I detest the whole of it, as a mass of ignorance, presumption, malice and brutality; and, in this term of reprobation, I include, without respect of rank, station, or quality, all those of both sexes, who affect its manners, and court its society. But I have written till my fingers are crampt, and my nausea begins to returnBy your advice, I sent to London a few days ago for half a pound of Gengzeng; though I doubt much, whether that which comes from America is equally efficacious with what is brought from the East Indies. Some years ago a friend of mine paid sixteen guineas for two ounces of it; and, in six months after, it was sold in the same shop for five shillings the pound. In short, we live in a vile world of fraud and sophistication; so that I know nothing of equal value with the genuine friendship of a sensible man; a rare jewel! which I cannot help thinking myself in possession of, while I repeat the old declaration, that I am, as usual, Dear Lewis, Your affectionate M. BRAMBLE, After having been agitated in a short hurricane, on my first arrival, I have taken a small house in Milshamstreet, where I am tolerably well lodged, for five guineas a week. I was yesterday at the Pumproom, and drank about a pint of water, which seems to agree with my stomach; and tomorrow morning I shall bathe, for the first time; so that in a few posts you may expect farther trouble; mean while, I am glad to find that the inoculation has succeeded so well with poor Joyce, and that her face will be but little marked. If my friend Sir Thomas was a single man, I would not trust such a handsome wench in his family; but as I have recommended her, in a particular manner, to the protection of lady G, who is one of the best women in the world, she may go thither without hesitation as soon as she is quite recovered and fit for serviceLet her mother have money to provide her with necessaries, and she may ride behind her brother on Bucks; but you must lay strong injunctions on Jack, to take particular care of the trusty old veteran, who has faithfully earned his present ease by his past services. To Miss WILLIS at Gloucester. BATH, April 26. MY DEAREST COMPANION, The pleasure I received from yours, which came to hand yesterday, is not to be expressed. Love and friendship are, without doubt, charming passions; which absence serves only to heighten and improve. Your kind present of the garnet bracelets, I shall keep as carefully as I preserve my own life; and I beg you will accept, in return, my hearthousewife, with the tortoiseshell memorandumbook, as a trifling pledge of my unalterable affection. Bath is to me a new worldAll is gayety, goodhumour, and diversion. The eye is continually entertained with the splendour of dress and equipage; and the ear with the sound of coaches, chairs, and other carriages. The merry bells ring round, from morn till night. Then we are welcomed by the citywaits in our own lodgings; we have music in the Pumproom every morning, cotillons every forenoon in the rooms, balls twice a week, and concerts every other night, besides private assemblies and parties without numberAs soon as we were settled in lodgings, we were visited by the Master of the Ceremonies; a pretty little gentleman, so sweet, so fine, so civil, and polite, that in our country he might pass for the prince of Wales; then he talks so charmingly, both in verse and prose, that you would be delighted to hear him discourse; for you must know he is a great writer, and has got five tragedies ready for the stage. He did us the favour to dine with us, by my uncle's invitation; and next day squired my aunt and me to every part of Bath; which, to be sure, is an earthly paradise. The Square, the Circus, and the Parades, put you in mind of the sumptuous palaces represented in prints and pictures; and the new buildings, such as Princesrow, Harlequin'srow, Bladud'srow, and twenty other rows, look like so many enchanted castles, raised on hanging terraces. At eight in the morning, we go in dishabille to the Pumproom which is crowded like a Welsh fair; and there you see the highest quality, and the lowest trades folks, jostling each other, without ceremony, hailfellow wellmet. The noise of the music playing in the gallery, the heat and flavour of such a crowd, and the hum and buz of their conversation, gave me the headach and vertigo the first day; but, afterwards, all these things became familiar, and even agreeable.Right under the Pumproom windows is the King's Bath; a huge cistern, where you see the patients up to their necks in hot water. The ladies wear jackets and petticoats of brown linen with chip hats, in which they fix their handkerchiefs to wipe the sweat from their faces; but, truly, whether it is owing to the steam that surrounds them, or the heat of the water, or the nature of the dress, or to all these causes together, they look so flushed, and so frightful, that I always turn my eyes another wayMy aunt, who says every person of fashion should make her appearance in the bath, as well as in the abbey church, contrived a cap with cherrycoloured ribbons to suit her complexion, and obliged Win to attend her yesterday morning in the water. But, really, her eyes were so red, that they made mine water as I viewed her from the Pumproom; and as for poor Win, who wore a hat trimmed with blue, what betwixt her wan complexion and her fear, she looked like the ghost of some pale maiden, who had drowned herself for love. When she came out of the bath, she took assafoetida drops, and was fluttered all day; so that we could hardly keep her from going into hysterics: but her mistress says it will do her good; and poor Win curtsies, with the tears in her eyes. For my part, I content myself with drinking about half a pint of the water every morning. The pumper, with his wife and servant, attend within a bar; and the glasses, of different sizes, stand ranged in order before them, so you have nothing to do but to point at that which you choose, and it is filled immediately, hot and sparkling from the pump. It is the only hot water I could ever drink, without being sickFar from having that effect, it is rather agreeable to the taste, grateful to the stomach, and reviving to the spirits. You cannot imagine what wonderful cures it performsMy uncle began with it the other day; but he made wry faces in drinking, and I'm afraid he will leave it offThe first day we came to Bath, he fell into a violent passion; beat two blackamoors, and I was afraid he would have fought with their master; but the stranger proved a peaceable man. To be sure, the gout had got into his head, as my aunt observed; but, I believe, his passion drove it away; for he has been remarkably well ever since. It is a thousand pities he should ever be troubled with that ugly distemper; for, when he is free from pain, he is the best tempered man upon earth; so gentle, so generous, so charitable, that every body loves him; and so good to me, in particular, that I shall never be able to shew the deep sense I have of his tenderness and affection. Hard by the Pumproom, is a coffeehouse for the ladies; but my aunt says, young girls are not admitted, insomuch as the conversation turns upon politics, scandal, philosophy, and other subjects above our capacity; but we are allowed to accompany them to the booksellers' shops, which are charming places of resort; where we read novels, plays, pamphlets, and newspapers, for so small a subscription as a crown a quarter; and in these offices of intelligence (as my brother calls them) all the reports of the day, and all the private transactions of the Bath, are first entered and discussed. From the bookseller's shop, we make a tour through the milliners and toymen; and commonly stop at Mr Gill's, the pastrycook, to take a jelly, a tart, or a small bason of vermicelli. There is, moreover, another place of entertainment on the other side of the water, opposite to the Grove, to which the company cross over in a boatIt is called Springgarden; a sweet retreat, laid out in walks and ponds, and parterres of flowers; and there is a longroom for breakfasting and dancing. As the situation is low and damp, and the season has been remarkably wet, my uncle won't suffer me to go thither, lest I should catch cold: but my aunt says it is all a vulgar prejudice; and, to be sure, a great many gentlemen and ladies of Ireland frequent the place, without seeming to be the worse for it. They say, dancing at Springgardens, when the air is moist, is recommended to them as an excellent cure for the rheumatism. I have been twice at the play; where, notwithstanding the excellence of the performers, the gayety of the company, and the decorations of the theatre, which are very fine, I could not help reflecting, with a sigh, upon our poor homely representations at GloucesterBut this, in confidence to my dear WillisYou know my heart, and will excuse its weakness. After all, the great scenes of entertainment at Bath, are the two public rooms; where the company meet alternately every evening. They are spacious, lofty, and, when lighted up, appear very striking. They are generally crowded with welldressed people, who drink tea in separate parties, play at cards, walk, or sit and chat together, just as they are disposed. Twice aweek there is a ball; the expence of which is defrayed by a voluntary subscription among the gentlemen; and every subscriber has three tickets. I was there Friday last with my aunt, under the care of my brother, who is a subscriber; and Sir Ulic Mackilligut recommended his nephew, captain O Donaghan, to me as a partner; but Jery excused himself, by saying I had got the headach; and, indeed, it was really so, though I can't imagine how he knew it. The place was so hot, and the smell so different from what we are used to in the country, that I was quite feverish when we came away. Aunt says it is the effect of a vulgar constitution, reared among woods and mountains; and, that as I become accustomed to genteel company, it will wear off.Sir Ulic was very complaisant, made her a great many highflown compliments; and, when we retired, handed her with great ceremony to her chair. The captain, I believe, would have done me the same favour; but my brother seeing him advance, took me under his arm, and wished him good night. The Captain is a pretty man, to be sure; tall and strait, and well made; with lightgrey eyes, and a Roman nose; but there is a certain boldness in his look and manner, that puts one out of countenanceBut I am afraid I have put you out of all patience with this long unconnected scrawl; which I shall therefore conclude, with assuring you, that neither Bath, nor London, nor all the diversions of life, shall ever be able to efface the idea of my dear Letty, from the heart of her ever affectionate LYDIA MELFORD To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MOLLY JONES, Heaving got a frank, I now return your fever, which I received by Mr Higgins, at the Hot Well, together with the stockings, which his wife footed for me; but now they are of no survice. No body wears such things in this placeO Molly! you that live in the country have no deception of our doings at Bath. Here is such dressing, and fidling, and dancing, and gadding, and courting and plottingO gracious! if God had not given me a good stock of discretion, what a power of things might not I reveal, consarning old mistress and young mistress; Jews with beards that were no Jews; but handsome Christians, without a hair upon their sin, strolling with spectacles, to get speech of Miss Liddy. But she's a dear sweet soul, as innocent as the child unborn. She has tould me all her inward thoughts, and disclosed her passion for Mr Wilson; and that's not his name neither; and thof he acted among the playermen, he is meat for their masters; and she has gi'en me her yallow trollopea; which Mrs Drab, the mantymaker, says will look very well when it is scowred and smoaked with silfurYou knows as how, yallow fitts my fizzogmony. God he knows what havock I shall make among the mail sex, when I make my first appearance in this killing collar, with a full soot of gaze, as good as new, that I bought last Friday of madam Friponeau, the French mullanerDear girl, I have seen all the fine shews of Bath; the Prades, the Squires, and the Circlis, the Crashit, the Hottogon, and Bloody Buildings, and Harry King's row; and I have been twice in the Bath with mistress, and na'r a smoak upon our backs, hussy. The first time I was mortally afraid, and flustered all day; and afterwards made believe that I had got the heddick; but mistress said, if I didn't go I should take a dose of bumtaffy; and so remembering how it worked Mrs Gwyllim a pennorth, I chose rather to go again with her into the Bath, and then I met with an axident. I dropt my petticoat, and could not get it up from the bottom.But what did that signify; they mought laff but they could see nothing; for I was up to the sin in water. To be sure, it threw me into such a gumbustion, that I know not what I said, nor what I did, nor how they got me out, and rapt me in a blanketMrs Tabitha scoulded a little when we got home; but she knows as I know what's what Ah Laud help you!There is Sir Yury Micligut, of Balnaclinch, in the cunty of KallowayI took down the name from his gentleman, Mr 0 Frizzle, and he has got an estate of fifteen hundred a yearI am sure he is both rich and generousBut you nose, Molly, I was always famous for keeping secrets; and so he was very safe in trusting me with his flegm for mistress; which, to be sure is very honourable; for Mr O Frizzle assures me, he values not her portion a brass varthingAnd, indeed, what's poor ten thousand pounds to a Baron Knight of his fortune? and, truly, I told Mr 0 Frizzle that was all she had trust toAs for John Thomas, he's a morass fellorI vow, I thought he would a fit with Mr 0 Frizzle, because he axed me to dance with him at Spring GardenBut God he knows I have no thoughts eyther of wan or t'other. As for house news, the worst is, Chowder has fallen off greatly from his stomickHe cats nothing but white meats, and not much of that; and wheezes, and seems to be much bloated. The doctors think he is threatened with a dropsyParson Marrofat, who has got the same disorder, finds great benefit from the waters; but Chowder seems to like them no better than the squire; and mistress says, if his case don't take a favourable turn, she will sartinly carry him to Aberga'ny, to drink goat's wheyTo be sure, the poor dear honymil is lost for want of axercise; for which reason, she intends to give him an airing once aday upon the Downs, in a postchaiseI have already made very creditable connexions in this here place; where, to be sure, we have the very squintasense of satietyMrs Patcher, my lady Kilmacullock's woman, and I are sworn sisters. She has shewn me all her secrets, and learned me to wash gaze, and refrash rusty silks and bumbeseens, by boiling them with winegar, chamberlye, and stale beer. My short sack and apron luck as good as new from the shop, and my pumpydoor as fresh as a rose, by the help of turtlewaterBut this is all Greek and Latten to you, MollyIf we should come to Aberga'ny, you'll be within a day's ride of us; and then we shall see wan another, please GodIf not, remember me in your prayers, as I shall do by you in mine; and take care of my kitten, and give my kind sarvice to Sall; and this is all at present, from your beloved friend and sarvent, W. JENKINS BATH, April 26. To Mrs GWYLLIM, housekeeper at Brambletonhall. I am astonished that Dr Lewis should take upon him to give away Alderney, without my privity and concurrantsWhat signifies my brother's order? My brother is little better than Noncompush. He would give away the shirt off his back, and the teeth out of his head; nay, as for that matter; he would have ruinated the family with his ridiculous charities, if it had not been for my four quartersWhat between his willfullness and his waste, his trumps, and his frenzy, I lead the life of an indented slave. Alderney gave four gallons aday, ever since the calf was sent to market. There is so much milk out of my dairy, and the press must stand still: but I won't loose a cheese pairing; and the milk shall be made good, if the sarvents should go without butter. If they must needs have butter, let them make it of sheep's milk; but then my wool will suffer for want of grace; so that I must be a loser on all sides. Well, patience is like a stout Welsh poney; it bears a great deal, and trots a great way; but it will tire at the long run. Before its long, perhaps I may shew Matt, that I was not born to be the household drudge to my dying dayGwyn rites from Crickhowel, that the price of flannel is fallen threefarthings an ell; and that's another good penny out of my pocket. When I go to market to sell, my commodity stinks; but when I want to buy the commonest thing, the owner pricks it up under my nose; and it can't be had for love nor moneyI think everything runs cross at BrambletonhallYou say the gander has broke the eggs; which is a phinumenon I don't understand: for when the fox carried off the old goose last year, he took her place, and hatched the eggs, and partected the goslings like a tender parentThen you tell me the thunder has soured two barrels of beer in the seller. But how the thunder should get there, when the seller was doublelocked, I can't comprehend. Howsomever, I won't have the beer thrown out, till I see it with my own eyes. Perhaps, it will recoverAt least it will serve for vinegar to the servants.You may leave off the fires in my brother's chamber and mine, as it is unsartain when we return.I hope, Gwyllim, you'll take care there is no waste; and have an eye to the maids, and keep them to their spinning. I think they may go very well without beer in hot weatherit serves only to inflame the blood, and set them agog after the men. Water will make them fair and keep them cool and tamperit. Don't forget to put up in the portmantel, that cums with Williams, along with my ridinghabit, hat, and feather, the viol of purl water, and the tincktur for my stomach; being as how I am much troubled with flutterencies. This is all at present, from Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE BATH, April 26. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, I have done with the waters; therefore your advice comes a day too late I grant that physic is no mystery of your making. I know it is a mystery in its own nature; and, like other mysteries, requires a strong gulp of faith to make it go downTwo days ago, I went into the King's Bath, by the advice of our friend Ch, in order to clear the strainer of the skin, for the benefit of a free perspiration; and the first object that saluted my eye, was a child full of scrophulous ulcers, carried in the arms of one of the guides, under the very noses of the bathers. I was so shocked at the sight, that I retired immediately with indignation and disgustSuppose the matter of those ulcers, floating on the water, comes in contact with my skin, when the pores are all open, I would ask you what must be the consequence?Good Heaven, the very thought makes my blood run cold! we know not what sores may be running into the water while we are bathing, and what sort of matter we may thus imbibe; the king'sevil, the scurvy, the cancer, and the pox; and, no doubt, the heat will render the virus the more volatile and penetrating. To purify myself from all such contamination, I went to the duke of Kingston's private Bath, and there I was almost suffocated for want of free air; the place was so small, and the steam so stifling. After all, if the intention is no more than to wash the skin, I am convinced that simple element is more effectual than any water impregnated with salt and iron; which, being astringent, will certainly contract the pores, and leave a kind of crust upon the surface of the body. But I am now as much afraid of drinking, as of bathing; for, after a long conversation with the Doctor, about the construction of the pump and the cistern, it is very far from being clear with me, that the patients in the Pumproom don't swallow the scourings of the bathers. I can't help suspecting, that there is, or may be, some regurgitation from the bath into the cistern of the pump. In that case, what a delicate beveridge is every day quaffed by the drinkers; medicated with the sweat and dirt, and dandriff; and the abominable discharges of various kinds, from twenty different diseased bodies, parboiling in the kettle below. In order to avoid this filthy composition, I had recourse to the spring that supplies the private baths on the Abbeygreen; but I at once perceived something extraordinary in the taste and smell; and, upon inquiry, I find that the Roman baths in this quarter, were found covered by an old burying ground, belonging to the Abbey; through which, in all probability, the water drains in its passage; so that as we drink the decoction of living bodies at the Pumproom, we swallow the strainings of rotten bones and carcasses at the private bath. I vow to God, the very idea turns my stomach! Determined, as I am, against any farther use of the Bath waters, this consideration would give me little disturbance, if I could find any thing more pure, or less pernicious, to quench my thirst; but, although the natural springs of excellent water are seen gushing spontaneous on every side, from the hills that surround us, the inhabitants, in general, make use of wellwater, so impregnated with nitre, or alum, or some other villainous mineral, that it is equally ungrateful to the taste, and mischievous to the constitution. It must be owned, indeed, that here, in Milshamstreet, we have a precarious and scanty supply from the hill; which is collected in an open bason in the Circus, liable to be defiled with dead dogs, cats, rats, and every species of nastiness, which the rascally populace may throw into it, from mere wantonness and brutality. Well, there is no nation that drinks so hoggishly as the English. What passes for wine among us, is not the juice of the grape. It is an adulterous mixture, brewed up of nauseous ingredients, by dunces, who are bunglers in the art of poisonmaking; and yet we, and our forefathers, are and have been poisoned by this cursed drench, without taste or flavourThe only genuine and wholesome beveridge in England, is London porter, and Dorchester tablebeer; but as for your ale and your gin, your cyder and your perry, and all the trashy family of made wines, I detest them as infernal compositions, contrived for the destruction of the human speciesBut what have I to do with the human species? except a very few friends, I care not if the whole was. Heark ye, Lewis, my misanthropy increases every dayThe longer I live, I find the folly and the fraud of mankind grow more and more intolerableI wish I had not come from Brambletonhall; after having lived in solitude so long, I cannot bear the hurry and impertinence of the multitude; besides, every thing is sophisticated in these crowded places. Snares are laid for our lives in every thing we cat or drink: the very air we breathe, is loaded with contagion. We cannot even sleep, without risque of infection. I say, infectionThis place is the rendezvous of the diseasedYou won't deny, that many diseases are infectious; even the consumption itself, is highly infectious. When a person dies of it in Italy, the bed and bedding are destroyed; the other furniture is exposed to the weather and the apartment whitewashed, before it is occupied by any other living soul. You'll allow, that nothing receives infection sooner, or retains it longer, than blankets, featherbeds, and matrasses'Sdeath! how do I know what miserable objects have been stewing in the bed where I now lie!I wonder, Dick, you did not put me in mind of sending for my own matrassesBut, if I had not been an ass, I should not have needed a remembrancerThere is always some plaguy reflection that rises up in judgment against me, and ruffles my spiritsTherefore, let us change the subject. I have other reasons for abridging my stay at BathYou know sister Tabby's complexionIf Mrs Tabitha Bramble had been of any other race, I should certainly have considered her as the most. But, the truth is, she has found means to interest my affection; or, rather, she is beholden to the force of prejudice, commonly called the ties of blood. Well, this amiable maiden has actually commenced a flirting correspondence with an Irish baronet of sixtyfive. His name is Sir Ulic Mackilligut. He is said to be much out at elbows; and, I believe, has received false intelligence with respect to her fortune. Be that as it may, the connexion is exceedingly ridiculous, and begins already to excite whispers. For my part, I have no intention to dispute her freeagency; though I shall fall upon some expedient to undeceive her paramour, as to the point which he has principally in view. But I don't think her conduct is a proper example for Liddy, who has also attracted the notice of some coxcombs in the Rooms; and Jery tells me, he suspects a strapping fellow, the knight's nephew, of some design upon the girl's heart. I shall, therefore, keep a strict eye over her aunt and her, and even shift the scene, if I find the matter grow more seriousYou perceive what an agreeable task it must be, to a man of my kidney, to have the cure of such souls as these.But, hold, You shall not have another peevish word (till the next occasion) from Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE BATH, April 28. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, I think those people are unreasonable, who complain that Bath is a contracted circle, in which the same dull scenes perpetually revolve, without variationI am, on the contrary, amazed to find so small a place so crowded with entertainment and variety. London itself can hardly exhibit one species of diversion, to which we have not something analogous at Bath, over and above those singular advantages that are peculiar to the place. Here, for example, a man has daily opportunities of seeing the most remarkable characters of the community. He sees them in their natural attitudes and true colours; descended from their pedestals, and divested of their formal draperies, undisguised by art and affectationHere we have ministers of state, judges, generals, bishops, projectors, philosophers, wits, poets, players, chemists, fiddlers, and buffoons. If he makes any considerable stay in the place, he is sure of meeting with some particular friend, whom he did not expect to see; and to me there is nothing more agreeable than such casual reencounters. Another entertainment, peculiar to Bath, arises from the general mixture of all degrees assembled in our public rooms, without distinction of rank or fortune. This is what my uncle reprobates, as a monstrous jumble of heterogeneous principles; a vile mob of noise and impertinence, without decency or subordination. But this chaos is to me a source of infinite amusement. I was extremely diverted last ballnight to see the Master of the Ceremonies leading, with great solemnity, to the upper end of the room, an antiquated Abigail, dressed in her lady's castclothes; whom he (I suppose) mistook for some countess just arrived at the Bath. The ball was opened by a Scotch lord, with a mulatto heiress from St Christopher's; and the gay colonel Tinsel danced all the evening with the daughter of an eminent tinman from the borough of Southwark. Yesterday morning, at the Pumproom, I saw a brokenwinded Wapping landlady squeeze through a circle of peers, to salute her brandymerchant, who stood by the window, propped upon crutches; and a paralytic attorney of Shoelane, in shuffling up to the bar, kicked the shins of the chancellor of England, while his lordship, in a cut bob, drank a glass of water at the pump. I cannot account for my being pleased with these incidents, any other way, than by saying they are truly ridiculous in their own nature, and serve to heighten the humour in the farce of life, which I am determined to enjoy as long as I can. Those follies, that move my uncle's spleen, excite my laughter. He is as tender as a man without a skin; who cannot bear the slightest touch without flinching. What tickles another would give him torment; and yet he has what we may call lucid intervals, when he is remarkably facetiousIndeed, I never knew a hypochondriac so apt to be infected with goodhumour. He is the most risible misanthrope I ever met with. A lucky joke, or any ludicrous incident, will set him alaughing immoderately, even in one of his most gloomy paroxysms; and, when the laugh is over, he will curse his own imbecility. In conversing with strangers, he betrays no marks of disquietHe is splenetic with his familiars only; and not even with them, while they keep his attention employed; but when his spirits are not exerted externally, they seem to recoil and prey upon himselfHe has renounced the waters with execration; but he begins to find a more efficacious, and, certainly, a much more palatable remedy in the pleasures of society. He has discovered some old friends, among the invalids of Bath; and, in particular, renewed his acquaintance with the celebrated James Quin, who certainly did not come here to drink water. You cannot doubt, but that I had the strongest curiosity to know this original; and it was gratified by Mr Bramble, who has had him twice at our house to dinner. So far as I am able to judge, Quin's character is rather more respectable than it has been generally represented. His bon mots are in every witling's mouth; but many of them have a rank flavour, which one would be apt to think was derived from a natural grossness of idea. I suspect, however, that justice has not been done the author, by the collectors of those Quiniana; who have let the best of them slip through their fingers, and only retained such as were suited to the taste and organs of the multitude. How far he may relax in his hours of jollity, I cannot pretend to say; but his general conversation is conducted by the nicest rules of Propriety; and Mr James Quin is, certainly, one of the best bred men in the kingdom. He is not only a most agreeable companion but (as I am credibly informed) a very honest man; highly susceptible of friendship, warm, steady, and even generous in his attachments, disdaining flattery, and incapable of meanness and dissimulation. Were I to judge, however, from Quin's eye alone, I should take him to be proud, insolent, and cruel. There is something remarkably severe and forbidding in his aspect; and, I have been told, he was ever disposed to insult his inferiors and dependants.Perhaps that report has influenced my opinion of his looksYou know we are the fools of prejudice. Howsoever that may be, I have as yet seen nothing but his favourable side, and my uncle, who frequently confers with him, in a corner, declares he is one of the most sensible men he ever knewHe seems to have a reciprocal regard for old Squaretoes, whom he calls by the familiar name of Matthew, and often reminds of their old tavernadventures: on the other hand, Matthew's eyes sparkle whenever Quin makes his appearanceLet him be never so jarring and discordant, Quin puts him in tune; and, like treble and bass in the same concert, they make excellent music together. T'other day, the conversation turning upon Shakespeare, I could not help saying, with some emotion, that I would give an hundred guineas to see Mr Quin act the part of Falstaff; upon which, turning to me with a smile, 'And I would give a thousand, young gentleman (said he) that I could gratify your longing.' My uncle and he are perfectly agreed in their estimate of life; which Quin says, would stink in his nostrils, if he did not steep it in claret. I want to see this phenomenon in his cups; and have almost prevailed upon uncle to give him a small turtle at the Bear. In the mean time, I must entertain you with an incident, that seems to confirm the judgment of those two cynic philosophers. I took the liberty to differ in opinion from Mr Bramble, when he observed, that the mixture of people in the entertainments of this place was destructive of all order and urbanity; that it rendered the plebeians insufferably arrogant and troublesome, and vulgarized the deportment and sentiments of those who moved in the upper spheres of life. He said such a preposterous coalition would bring us into contempt with all our neighbours; and was worse, in fact, than debasing the gold coin of the nation. I argued, on the contrary, that those plebeians who discovered such eagerness to imitate the dress and equipage of their superiors, would likewise, in time, adopt their maxims and their manners, be polished by their conversation, and refined by their example; but when I appealed to Mr Quin, and asked if he did not think that such an unreserved mixture would improve the whole mass? 'Yes (said he) as a plate of marmalade would improve a pan of sirreverence.' I owned I was not much conversant in highlife, but I had seen what were called polite assemblies in London and elsewhere; that those of Bath seemed to be as decent as any; and that, upon the whole, the individuals that composed it, would not be found deficient in good manners and decorum. 'But let us have recourse to experience (said I)Jack Holder, who was intended for a parson, has succeeded to an estate of two thousand a year, by the death of his elder brother. He is now at the Bath, driving about in a phaeton and four, with French horns. He has treated with turtle and claret at all the taverns in Bath and Bristol, till his guests are gorged with good chear: he has bought a dozen suits of fine clothes, by the advice of the Master of the Ceremonies, under whose tuition he has entered himself. He has lost hundreds at billiards to sharpers, and taken one of the nymphs of Avonstreet into keeping; but, finding all these channels insufficient to drain him of his current cash, his counsellor has engaged him to give a general teadrinking tomorrow at Wiltshire's room. In order to give it the more eclat, every table is to be furnished with sweetmeats and nosegays; which, however, are not to be touched till notice is given by the ringing of a bell, and then the ladies may help themselves without restriction. This will be no bad way of trying the company's breeding.' 'I will abide by that experiment (cried my uncle) and if I could find a place to stand secure, without the vortex of the tumult, which I know will ensue, I would certainly go thither and enjoy the scene.' Quin proposed that we should take our station in the musicgallery, and we took his advice. Holder had got thither before us, with his horns perdue, but we were admitted. The teadrinking passed as usual, and the company having risen from the tables, were sauntering in groupes, in expectation of the signal for attack, when the bell beginning to ring, they flew with eagerness to the dessert, and the whole place was instantly in commotion. There was nothing but justling, scrambling, pulling, snatching, struggling, scolding, and screaming. The nosegays were torn from one another's hands and bosoms; the glasses and china went to wreck; the tables and floors were strewed with comfits. Some cried; some swore; and the tropes and figures of Billingsgate were used without reserve in all their native zest and flavour; nor were those flowers of rhetoric unattended with significant gesticulation. Some snapped their fingers; some forked them out; some clapped their hands, and some their backsides; at length, they fairly proceeded to pulling caps, and every thing seemed to presage a general battle; when Holder ordered his horns to sound a charge, with a view to animate the combatants, and inflame the contest; but this manoeuvre produced an effect quite contrary to what he expected. It was a note of reproach that roused them to an immediate sense of their disgraceful situation. They were ashamed of their absurd deportment, and suddenly desisted. They gathered up their caps, ruffles, and handkerchiefs; and great part of them retired in silent mortification. Quin laughed at this adventure; but my uncle's delicacy was hurt. He hung his head in manifest chagrin, and seemed to repine at the triumph of his judgmentIndeed, his victory was more complete than he imagined; for, as we afterwards learned, the two amazons who singularized themselves most in the action, did not come from the purlieus of Puddledock, but from the courtly neighbourhood of St James's palace. One was a baroness, and the other, a wealthy knight's dowagerMy uncle spoke not a word, till we had made our retreat good to the coffeehouse; where, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead, 'I bless God (said he) that Mrs Tabitha Bramble did not take the field today!' 'I would pit her for a cool hundred (cried Quin) against the best shakebag of the whole main.' The truth is, nothing could have kept her at home but the accident of her having taken physic before she knew the nature of the entertainment. She has been for some days furbishing up an old suit of black velvet, to make her appearance as Sir Ulic's partner at the next ball. I have much to say of this amiable kinswoman; but she has not been properly introduced to your acquaintance. She is remarkably civil to Mr Quin; of whose sarcastic humour she seems to stand in awe; but her caution is no match for her impertinence. 'Mr Gwynn (said she the other day) I was once vastly entertained with your playing the Ghost of Gimlet at Drurylane, when you rose up through the stage, with a white face and red eyes, and spoke of quails upon the frightful porcofineDo, pray, spout a little the Ghost of Gimlet.' 'Madam (said Quin, with a glance of ineffable disdain) the Ghost of Gimlet is laid, never to rise again' Insensible of this check, she proceeded: 'Well, to be sure, you looked and talked so like a real ghost; and then the cock crowed so natural. I wonder how you could teach him to crow so exact, in the very nick of time; but, I suppose, he's gameAn't he game, Mr Gwynn?' 'Dunghill, madam.''Well, dunghill, or not dunghill, he has got such a clear countertenor, that I wish I had such another at Brambletonhall, to wake the maids of a morning. Do you know where I could find one of his brood?' 'Probably in the workhouse at St Giles's parish, madam; but I protest I know not his particular mew!' My uncle, frying with vexation, cried, 'Good God, sister, how you talk! I have told you twenty times, that this gentleman's name is not Gwynn.''Hoity toity, brother mine (she replied) no offence, I hopeGwynn is an honorable name, of true old British extractionI thought the gentleman had been come of Mrs Helen Gwynn, who was of his own profession; and if so be that were the case, he might be of king Charles's breed, and have royal blood in his veins.''No, madam (answered Quin, with great solemnity) my mother was not a whore of such distinctionTrue it is, I am sometimes tempted to believe myself of royal descent; for my inclinations are often arbitraryIf I was an absolute prince, at this instant, I believe I should send for the head of your cook in a chargerShe has committed felony, on the person of that John Dory, which is mangled in a cruel manner, and even presented without sauceO tempora! O mores!' This goodhumoured sally turned the conversation into a less disagreeable channelBut, lest you should think my scribble as tedious as Mrs Tabby's clack, I shall not add another word, but that I am as usual Yours, J. MELFORD BATH, April 30. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS, I received your bill upon Wiltshire, which was punctually honoured; but as I don't choose to keep so much cash by me, in a common lodging house, I have deposited 250l. in the bank of Bath, and shall take their bills for it in London, when I leave this place, where the season draws to an endYou must know, that now being afoot, I am resolved to give Liddy a glimpse of London. She is one of the best hearted creatures I ever knew, and gains upon my affection every dayAs for Tabby, I have dropt such hints to the Irish baronet, concerning her fortune, as, I make no doubt, will cool the ardour of his addresses. Then her pride will take the alarm; and the rancour of stale maidenhood being chafed, we shall hear nothing but slander and abuse of Sir Ulic MackilligutThis rupture, I foresee, will facilitate our departure from Bath; where, at present, Tabby seems to enjoy herself with peculiar satisfaction. For my part, I detest it so much, that I should not have been able to stay so long in the place if I had not discovered some old friends; whose conversation alleviates my disgustGoing to the coffeehouse one forenoon, I could not help contemplating the company, with equal surprize and compassionWe consisted of thirteen individuals; seven lamed by the gout, rheumatism, or palsy; three maimed by accident; and the rest either deaf or blind. One hobbled, another hopped, a third dragged his legs after him like a wounded snake, a fourth straddled betwixt a pair of long crutches, like the mummy of a felon hanging in chains; a fifth was bent into a horizontal position, like a mounted telescope, shoved in by a couple of chairmen; and a sixth was the bust of a man, set upright in a wheel machine, which the waiter moved from place to place. Being struck with some of their faces, I consulted the subscriptionbook; and, perceiving the names of several old friends, began to consider the groupe with more attention. At length I discovered rearadmiral Balderick, the companion of my youth, whom I had not seen since he was appointed lieutenant of the Severn. He was metamorphosed into an old man, with a wooden leg and a weatherbeaten face, which appeared the more ancient from his grey locks, that were truly venerableSitting down at the table, where he was reading a newspaper, I gazed at him for some minutes, with a mixture of pleasure and regret, which made my heart gush with tenderness; then, taking him by the hand, 'Ah, Sam (said I) forty years ago I little thought'I was too much moved to proceed. 'An old friend, sure enough! (cried he, squeezing my hand, and surveying me eagerly through his glasses) I know the looming of the vessel, though she has been hard strained since we parted; but I can't heave up the name'The moment I told him who I was, he exclaimed, 'Ha! Matt, my old fellow cruizer, still afloat!' And, starting up, hugged me in his arms. His transport, however, boded me no good; for, in saluting me, he thrust the spring of his spectacles into my eye, and, at the same time, set his wooden stump upon my gouty toe; an attack that made me shed tears in sad earnestAfter the hurry of our recognition was over, he pointed out two of our common friends in the room: the bust was what remained of colonel Cockril, who had lost the use of his limbs in making an American campaign; and the telescope proved to be my college chum, sir Reginald Bently; who, with his new title, and unexpected inheritance, commenced foxhunter, without having served his apprenticeship to the mystery; and, in consequence of following the hounds through a river, was seized with an inflammation of his bowels, which has contracted him into his present attitude. Our former correspondence was forthwith renewed, with the most hearty expressions of mutual goodwill, and as we had met so unexpectedly, we agreed to dine together that very day at the tavern. My friend Quin, being luckily unengaged, obliged us with his company; and, truly, this the most happy day I have passed these twenty years. You and I, Lewis, having been always together, never tasted friendship in this high gout, contracted from long absence. I cannot express the half of what I felt at this casual meeting of three or four companions, who had been so long separated, and so roughly treated by the storms of life. It was a renovation of youth; a kind of resuscitation of the dead, that realized those interesting dreams, in which we sometimes retrieve our ancient friends from the grave. Perhaps my enjoyment was not the less pleasing for being mixed with a strain of melancholy, produced by the remembrance of past scenes, that conjured up the ideas of some endearing connexions, which the hand of Death has actually dissolved. The spirits and good humour of the company seemed to triumph over the wreck of their constitutions. They had even philosophy enough to joke upon their own calamities; such is the power of friendship, the sovereign cordial of lifeI afterwards found, however, that they were not without their moments, and even hours of disquiet. Each of them apart, in succeeding conferences, expatiated upon his own particular grievances; and they were all malcontents at bottomOver and above their personal disasters, they thought themselves unfortunate in the lottery of life. Balderick complained, that all the recompence he had received for his long and hard service, was the halfpay of a rearadmiral. The colonel was mortified to see himself overtopped by upstart generals, some of whom he had once commanded; and, being a man of a liberal turn, could ill put up with a moderate annuity, for which he had sold his commission. As for the baronet, having run himself considerably in debt, on a contested election, he has been obliged to relinquish his seat in parliament, and his seat in the country at the same time, and put his estate to nurse; but his chagrin, which is the effect of his own misconduct, does not affect me half so much as that of the other two, who have acted honourable and distinguished parts on the great theatre, and are now reduced to lead a weary life in this stewpan of idleness and insignificance. They have long left off using the waters, after having experienced their inefficacy. The diversions of the place they are not in a condition to enjoy. How then do they make shift to pass their time? In the forenoon they crawl out to the Rooms or the coffeehouse, where they take a hand at whist, or descant upon the General Advertiser; and their evenings they murder in private parties, among peevish invalids, and insipid old womenThis is the case with a good number of individuals, whom nature seems to have intended for better purposes. About a dozen years ago, many decent families, restricted to small fortunes, besides those that came hither on the score of health, were tempted to settle at Bath, where they could then live comfortably, and even make a genteel appearance, at a small expence: but the madness of the times has made the place too hot for them, and they are now obliged to think of other migrationsSome have already fled to the mountains of Wales, and others have retired to Exeter. Thither, no doubt, they will be followed by the flood of luxury and extravagance, which will drive them from place to place to the very Land's End; and there, I suppose, they will be obliged to ship themselves to some other country. Bath is become a mere sink of profligacy and extortion. Every article of housekeeping is raised to an enormous price; a circumstance no longer to be wondered at, when we know that every petty retainer of fortune piques himself upon keeping a table, and thinks it is for the honour of his character to wink at the knavery of his servants, who are in a confederacy with the marketpeople; and, of consequence, pay whatever they demand. Here is now a mushroom of opulence, who pays a cook seventy guineas a week for furnishing him with one meal a day. This portentous frenzy is become so contagious, that the very rabble and refuse of mankind are infected. I have known a negrodriver, from Jamaica, pay overnight, to the master of one of the rooms, sixtyfive guineas for tea and coffee to the company, and leave Bath next morning, in such obscurity, that not one of his guests had the slightest idea of his person, or even made the least inquiry about his name. Incidents of this kind are frequent; and every day teems with fresh absurdities, which are too gross to make a thinking man merry. But I feel the spleen creeping on me apace; and therefore will indulge you with a cessation, that you may have no unnecessary cause to curse your correspondence with, Dear Dick, Yours ever, MAT. BRAMBLE BATH, May 5. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAR LETTY, I wrote you at great length by the post, the twentysixth of last month, to which I refer you for an account of our proceedings at Bath; and I expect your answer with impatience. But, having this opportunity of a private hand, I send you two dozen of Bath rings; six of the best of which I desire you will keep for yourself, and distribute the rest among the young ladies, our common friends, as you shall think properI don't know how you will approve of the mottoes; some of them are not much to my own liking; but I was obliged to take such as I could find ready manufacturedI am vexed, that neither you nor I have received any further information of a certain personSure it cannot be wilful neglect!O my dear Willis! I begin to be visited by strange fancies, and to have some melancholy doubts; which, however, it would be ungenerous to harbour without further inquiryMy uncle, who has made me a present of a very fine set of garnets, talks of treating us with a jaunt to London; which, you may imagine, will be highly agreeable; but I like Bath so well, that I hope he won't think of leaving it till the season is quite over; and yet, betwixt friends, something has happened to my aunt, which will probably shorten our stay in this place. Yesterday, in the forenoon, she went by herself to a breakfasting in one of the rooms; and, in half an hour, returned in great agitation, having Chowder along with her in the chair. I believe some accident must have happened to that unlucky animal, which is the great source of all her troubles. Dear Letty! what a pity it is, that a woman of her years and discretion, should place her affection upon such an ugly, illconditioned cur, that snarls and snaps at every body. I asked John Thomas, the footman who attended her, what was the matter? and he did nothing but grin. A famous dogdoctor was sent for, and undertook to cure the patient, provided he might carry him home to his own house; but his mistress would not part with him out of her own sightShe ordered the cook to warm cloths, which she applied to his bowels, with her own hand. She gave up all thoughts of going to the ball in the evening; and when Sir Ulic came to drink tea, refused to be seen; so that he went away to look for another partner. My brother Jery whistles and dances. My uncle sometimes shrugs up his shoulders, and sometimes bursts out alaughing. My aunt sobs and scolds by turns; and her woman, Win. Jenkins, stares and wonders with a foolish face of curiosity; and, for my part, I am as curious as she, but ashamed to ask questions. Perhaps time will discover the mystery; for if it was any thing that happened in the Rooms, it cannot be long concealedAll I know is, that last night at supper, miss Bramble spoke very disdainfully of Sir Ulic Mackilligut, and asked her brother if he intended to keep us sweltering all the summer at Bath? 'No, sister Tabitha (said he, with an arch smile) we shall retreat before the Dogdays begin; though I make no doubt, that with a little temperance and discretion, our constitutions might be kept cool enough all the year, even at Bath.' As I don't know the meaning of this insinuation, I won't pretend to make any remarks upon it at present: hereafter, perhaps, I may be able to explain it more to your satisfactionIn the mean time, I beg you will be punctual in your correspondence, and continue to love your ever faithful LYDIA MELFORD BATH, May 6. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. So then Mrs Blackerby's affair has proved a false alarm, and I have saved my money? I wish, however, her declaration had not been so premature; for though my being thought capable of making her a mother, might have given me some credit, the reputation of an intrigue with such a cracked pitcher does me no honour at all In my last I told you I had hopes of seeing Quin, in his hours of elevation at the tavern which is the temple of mirth and good fellowship; where he, as priest of Comus, utters the inspirations of wit and humourI have had that satisfaction. I have dined with his club at the Three Tuns, and had the honour to sit him out. At half an hour past eight in the evening, he was carried home with six good bottles of claret under his belt; and it being then Friday, he gave orders that he should not be disturbed till Sunday at noonYou must not imagine that this dose had any other effect upon his conversation, but that of making it more extravagantly entertainingHe had lost the use of his limbs, indeed, several hours before we parted, but he retained all his other faculties in perfection; and as he gave vent to every whimsical idea as it rose, I was really astonished at the brilliancy of his thoughts, and the force of his expression. Quin is a real voluptuary in the articles of eating and drinking; and so confirmed an epicure, in the common acceptation of the term, that he cannot put up with ordinary fare. This is a point of such importance with him, that he always takes upon himself the charge of catering; and a man admitted to his mess, is always sure of eating delicate victuals, and drinking excellent wineHe owns himself addicted to the delights of the stomach, and often jokes upon his own sensuality; but there is nothing selfish in this appetiteHe finds that good chear unites good company, exhilerates the spirits, opens the heart, banishes all restraint from conversation, and promotes the happiest purposes of social life. But Mr James Quin is not a subject to be discussed in the compass of one letter; I shall therefore, at present, leave him to his repose, and call another of a very different complexion. You desire to have further acquaintance with the person of our aunt, and promise yourself much entertainment from her connexion with Sir Ulic Mackilligut: but in this hope you are baulked already; that connexion is dissolved. The Irish baronet is an old hound, that, finding her carrion, has quitted the scentI have already told you, that Mrs Tabitha Bramble is a maiden of fortyfive. In her person, she is tall, rawboned, aukward, flatchested, and stooping; her complexion is sallow and freckled; her eyes are not grey, but greenish, like those of a cat, and generally inflamed; her hair is of a sandy, or rather dusty hue; her forehead low; her nose long, sharp, and, towards the extremity, always red in cool weather; her lips skinny, her mouth extensive, her teeth straggling and loose, of various colours and conformation; and her long neck shrivelled into a thousand wrinklesIn her temper, she is proud, stiff, vain, imperious, prying, malicious, greedy, and uncharitable. In all likelihood, her natural austerity has been soured by disappointment in love; for her long celibacy is by no means owing to her dislike of matrimony: on the contrary, she has left no stone unturned to avoid the reproachful epithet of old maid. Before I was born, she had gone such lengths in the way of flirting with a recruiting officer, that her reputation was a little singed. She afterwards made advances to the curate of the parish, who dropped some distant hints about the next presentation to the living, which was in her brother's gift; but finding that was already promised to another, he flew off at a tangent; and Mrs Tabby, in revenge, found means to deprive him of his cure. Her next lover was lieutenant of a man of war, a relation of the family, who did not understand the refinements of the passion, and expressed no aversion to grapple with cousin Tabby in the way of marriage; but before matters could be properly adjusted, he went out on a cruise, and was killed in an engagement with a French frigate. Our aunt, though baffled so often, did not yet despair. She layed all her snares for Dr Lewis, who is the fidus Achates of my uncle. She even fell sick upon the occasion, and prevailed with Matt to interpose in her behalf with his friend; but the Doctor, being a shy cock, would not be caught with chaff, and flatly rejected the proposal: so that Mrs Tabitha was content to exert her patience once more, after having endeavoured in vain to effect a rupture betwixt the two friends; and now she thinks proper to be very civil to Lewis, who is become necessary to her in the way of his profession. These, however, are not the only efforts she has made towards a nearer conjunction with our sex. Her fortune was originally no more than a thousand pounds; but she gained an accession of five hundred by the death of a sister, and the lieutenant left her three hundred in his will. These sums she has more than doubled, by living free of all expence, in her brother's house; and dealing in cheese and Welsh flannel, the produce of his flocks and dairy. At present her capital is increased to about four thousand pounds; and her avarice seems to grow every day more and more rapacious: but even this is not so intolerable as the perverseness of her nature, which keeps the whole family in disquiet and uproar. She is one of those geniuses who find some diabolical enjoyment in being dreaded and detested by their fellowcreatures. I once told my uncle, I was surprised that a man of his disposition could bear such a domestic plague, when it could be so easily removed. The remark made him sore, because it seemed to tax him with want of resolutionWrinkling up his nose, and drawing down his eyebrows, 'A young fellow (said he) when he first thrusts his snout into the world, is apt to be surprised at many things which a man of experience knows to be ordinary and unavoidableThis precious aunt of yours is become insensibly a part of my constitutionDamn her! She's a noli me tangere in my flesh, which I cannot bear to be touched or tampered with.' I made no reply; but shifted the conversation. He really has an affection for this original; which maintains its ground in defiance of common sense, and in despite of that contempt which he must certainly feel for her character and understanding. Nay, I am convinced, that she has likewise a most virulent attachment to his person; though her love never shews itself but in the shape of discontent; and she persists in tormenting him out of pure tendernessThe only object within doors upon which she bestows any marks of affection, in the usual stile, is her dog Chowder; a filthy cur from Newfoundland, which she had in a present from the wife of a skipper in Swansey. One would imagine she had distinguished this beast with her favour on account of his ugliness and illnature, if it was not, indeed, an instinctive sympathy, between his disposition and her own. Certain it is, she caresses him without ceasing; and even harasses the family in the service of this cursed animal, which, indeed, has proved the proximate cause of her breach with Sir Ulic Mackilligut. You must know, she yesterday wanted to steal a march of poor Liddy, and went to breakfast in the Room without any other companion than her dog, in expectation of meeting with the Baronet, who had agreed to dance with her in the eveningChowder no sooner made his appearance in the Room, than the Master of the Ceremonies, incensed at his presumption, ran up to drive him away, and threatened him with his foot; but the other seemed to despise his authority, and displaying a formidable case of long, white, sharp teeth, kept the puny monarch at bayWhile he stood under some trepidation, fronting his antagonist, and bawling to the waiter, Sir Ulic Mackilligut came to his assistance; and seeming ignorant of the connexion between this intruder and his mistress, gave the former such a kick in the jaws, as sent him howling to the doorMrs Tabitha, incensed at this outrage, ran after him, squalling in a tone equally disagreeable; while the Baronet followed her on one side, making apologies for his mistake; and Derrick on the other, making remonstrances upon the rules and regulations of the place. Far from being satisfied with the Knight's excuses, she said she was sure he was no gentleman; and when the Master of the Ceremonies offered to hand her into the chair, she rapped him over the knuckles with her fan. My uncle's footman being still at the door, she and Chowder got into the same vehicle, and were carried off amidst the jokes of the chairmen and other populaceI had been riding out on Clerkendown, and happened to enter just as the fracas was overThe Baronet, coming up to me with an affected air of chagrin, recounted the adventure; at which I laughed heartily, and then his countenance cleared up. 'My dear soul (said he) when I saw a sort of a wild baist, snarling with open mouth at the Master of the Ceremonies, like the red cow going to devour Tom Thumb, I could do no less than go to the assistance of the little man; but I never dreamt the baist was one of Mrs Bramble's attendantsO! if I had, he might have made his breakfast upon Derrick and welcomeBut you know, my dear friend, how natural it is for us Irishmen to blunder, and to take the wrong sow by the earHowever, I will confess judgment, and cry her mercy; and it is to be hoped, a penitent sinner may be forgiven.' I told him, that as the offence was not voluntary of his side, it was to be hoped he would not find her implacable. But, in truth, all this concern was dissembled. In his approaches of gallantry to Mrs Tabitha, he had been misled by a mistake of at least six thousand pounds, in the calculation of her fortune; and in this particular he was just undeceived. He, therefore, seized the first opportunity of incurring her displeasure decently, in such a manner as would certainly annihilate the correspondence; and he could not have taken a more effectual method, than that of beating her dog. When he presented himself at our door, to pay his respects to the offended fair, he was refused admittance, and given to understand that he should never find her at home for the future. She was not so inaccessible to Derrick, who came to demand satisfaction for the insult she had offered to him, even in the verge of his own court. She knew it was convenient to be well with the Master of the Ceremonies, while she continued to frequent the Rooms; and, having heard he was a poet, began to be afraid of making her appearance in a ballad or lampoon.She therefore made excuses for what she had done, imputing it to the flutter of her spirits; and subscribed handsomely for his poems: so that he was perfectly appeased, and overwhelmed her with a profusion of compliment. He even solicited a reconciliation with Chowder; which, however, the latter declined; and he declared, that if he could find a precedent in the annals of the Bath, which he would carefully examine for that purpose, her favourite should be admitted to the next public breakfastingBut, I, believe, she will not expose herself or him to the risque of a second disgraceWho will supply the place of Mackilligut in her affections, I cannot foresee; but nothing in the shape of man can come amiss. Though she is a violent churchwoman, of the most intolerant zeal, I believe in my conscience she would have no objection, at present, to treat on the score of matrimony with an Anabaptist, Quaker, or Jew; and even ratify the treaty at the expense of her own conversion. But, perhaps, I think too hardly of this kinswoman; who, I must own, is very little beholden to the good opinion of Yours, J. MELFORD BATH, May 6. To Dr LEWIS. You ask me, why I don't take the air ahorseback, during this fine weather?In which of the avenues of this paradise would you have me take that exercise? Shall I commit myself to the highroads of London or Bristol, to be stifled with dust, or pressed to death in the midst of postchaises, flyingmachines, waggons, and coalhorses; besides the troops of fine gentlemen that take to the highway, to shew their horsemanship; and the coaches of fine ladies, who go thither to shew their equipages? Shall I attempt the Downs, and fatigue myself to death in climbing up an eternal ascent, without any hopes of reaching the summit? Know then, I have made divers desperate leaps at those upper regions; but always fell backward into this vapourpit, exhausted and dispirited by those ineffectual efforts; and here we poor valetudinarians pant and struggle, like so many Chinese gudgeons, gasping in the bottom of a punchbowl. By Heaven it is a kind of enchantment! If I do not speedily break the spell, and escape, I may chance to give up the ghost in this nauseous stew of corruptionIt was but two nights ago, that I had like to have made my public exit, at a minute's warning. One of my greatest weaknesses is that of suffering myself to be overruled by the opinion of people, whose judgment I despiseI own, with shame and confusion of face, that importunity of any kind I cannot resist. This want of courage and constancy is an original flaw in my nature, which you must have often observed with compassion, if not with contempt. I am afraid some of our boasted virtues maybe traced up to this defect. Without further preamble, I was persuaded to go to a ball, on purpose to see Liddy dance a minuet with a young petulant jackanapes, the only son of a wealthy undertaker from London, whose mother lodges in our neighbourhood, and has contracted an acquaintance with Tabby. I sat a couple of long hours, half stifled, in the midst of a noisome crowd; and could not help wondering that so many hundreds of those that rank as rational creatures, could find entertainment in seeing a succession of insipid animals, describing the same dull figure for a whole evening, on an area, not much bigger than a taylor's shopboard. If there had been any beauty, grace, activity, magnificent dress, or variety of any kind howsoever absurd, to engage the attention, and amuse the fancy, I should not have been surprised; but there was no such object: it was a tiresome repetition of the same languid, frivolous scene, performed by actors that seemed to sleep in all their motions. The continual swimming of these phantoms before my eyes, gave me a swimming of the head; which was also affected by the fouled air, circulating through such a number of rotten human bellows. I therefore retreated towards the door, and stood in the passage to the next room, talking to my friend Quin; when an end being put to the minuets, the benches were removed to make way for the countrydances; and the multitude rising at once, the whole atmosphere was put in commotion. Then, all of a sudden, came rushing upon me an Egyptian gale, so impregnated with pestilential vapours, that my nerves were overpowered, and I dropt senseless upon the floor. You may easily conceive what a clamour and confusion this accident must have produced, in such an assemblyI soon recovered, however, and found myself in an easy chair, supported by my own peopleSister Tabby, in her great tenderness, had put me to the torture, squeezing my hand under her arm, and stuffing my nose with spirit of hartshorn, till the whole inside was excoriated. I no sooner got home, than I sent for Doctor Ch, who assured me I needed not be alarmed, for my swooning was entirely occasioned by an accidental impression of fetid effluvia upon nerves of uncommon sensibility. I know not how other people's nerves are constructed; but one would imagine they must be made of very coarse materials, to stand the shock of such a torrid assault. It was, indeed, a compound of villainous smells, in which the most violent stinks, and the most powerful perfumes, contended for the mastery. Imagine to yourself a high exalted essence of mingled odours, arising from putrid gums, imposthumated lungs, sour flatulencies, rank armpits, sweating feet, running sores and issues, plasters, ointments, and embrocations, hungarywater, spirit of lavender, assafoetida drops, musk, hartshorn, and sal volatile; besides a thousand frowzy steams, which I could not analyse. Such, O Dick! is the fragrant aether we breathe in the polite assemblies of BathSuch is the atmosphere I have exchanged for the pure, elastic, animating air of the Welsh mountainsO Rus, quando te aspiciam!I wonder what the devil possessed me But few words are best: I have taken my resolutionYou may well suppose I don't intend to entertain the company with a second exhibitionI have promised, in an evil hour, to proceed to London, and that promise shall be performed, but my stay in the metropolis shall be brief. I have, for the benefit of my health, projected an expedition to the North, which, I hope, will afford some agreeable pastime. I have never travelled farther that way than Scarborough; and, I think, it is a reproach upon me, as a British freeholder, to have lived so long without making an excursion to the other side of the Tweed. Besides, I have some relations settled in Yorkshire, to whom it may not be improper to introduce my nephew and his sisterAt present, I have nothing to add, but that Tabby is happily disentangled from the Irish Baronet; and that I will not fail to make you acquainted, from time to time, with the sequel of our adventures: a mark of consideration, which, perhaps, you would willingly dispense with in Your humble servant, M. BRAMBLE BATH, May 8. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, A few days ago we were terribly alarmed by my uncle's fainting at the ballHe has been ever since cursing his own folly, for going thither at the request of an impertinent woman. He declares, he will sooner visit a house infected with the plague, than trust himself in such a nauseous spital for the future, for he swears the accident was occasioned by the stench of the crowd; and that he would never desire a stronger proof of our being made of very gross materials, than our having withstood the annoyance, by which he was so much discomposed. For my part, I am very thankful for the coarseness of my organs, being in no danger of ever falling a sacrifice to the delicacy of my nose. Mr Bramble is extravagantly delicate in all his sensations, both of soul and body. I was informed by Dr Lewis, that he once fought a duel with an officer of the horseguards, for turning aside to the Parkwall, on a necessary occasion, when he was passing with a lady under his protection. His blood rises at every instance of insolence and cruelty, even where he himself is no way concerned; and ingratitude makes his teeth chatter. On the other hand, the recital of a generous, humane, or grateful action, never fails to draw from him tears of approbation, which he is often greatly distressed to conceal. Yesterday, one Paunceford gave tea, on particular invitationThis man, after having been long buffetted by adversity, went abroad; and Fortune, resolved to make him amends for her former coyness, set him all at once up to the very ears in affluence. He has now emerged from obscurity, and blazes out in all the tinsel of the times. I don't find that he is charged with any practices that the law deems dishonest, or that his wealth has made him arrogant and inaccessible; on the contrary, he takes great pains to appear affable and gracious. But, they say, he is remarkable for shrinking from his former friendships, which were generally too plain and homespun to appear amidst his present brilliant connexions; and that he seems uneasy at sight of some old benefactors, whom a man of honour would take pleasure to acknowledgeBe that as it may, he had so effectually engaged the company at Bath, that when I went with my uncle to the coffeehouse in the evening, there was not a soul in the room but one person, seemingly in years, who sat by the fire, reading one of the papers. Mr Bramble, taking his station close by him, 'There is such a crowd and confusion of chairs in the passage to Simpson's (said he) that we could hardly get alongI wish those minions of fortune would fall upon more laudable ways of spending their money.I suppose, Sir, you like this kind of entertainment as little as I do?' 'I cannot say I have any great relish for such entertainments,' answered the other, without taking his eyes off the paper'Mr Serle (resumed my uncle) I beg pardon for interrupting you; but I can't resist the curiosity I have to know if you received a card on this occasion?' The man seemed surprised at this address, and made some pause, as doubtful what answer he should make. 'I know my curiosity is impertinent (added my uncle) but I have a particular reason for asking the favour.' 'If that be the case (replied Mr Serle) I shall gratify you without hesitation, by owning that I have had no card. But, give me leave, Sir, to ask in my turn, what reason you think I have to expect such an invitation from the gentleman who gives tea?' 'I have my own reasons (cried Mr Bramble, with some emotion) and am convinced, more than ever, that this Paunceford is a contemptible fellow.' 'Sir (said the other, laying down the paper) I have not the honour to know you; but your discourse is a little mysterious, and seems to require some explanation. The person you are pleased to treat so cavalierly, is a gentleman of some consequence in the community; and, for aught you know, I may also have my particular reasons for defending his character''If I was not convinced of the contrary (observed the other) I should not have gone so far''Let me tell you, Sir (said the stranger, raising his voice) you have gone too far, in hazarding such reflections'. Here he was interrupted by my uncle; who asked peevishly if he was Don Quixote enough, at this time of day, to throw down his gauntlet as champion for a man who had treated him with such ungrateful neglect. 'For my part (added he) I shall never quarrel with you again upon this subject; and what I have said now, has been suggested as much by my regard for you, as by my contempt of him'Mr Serle, then pulling off his spectacles, eyed uncle very earnestly, saying, in a mitigated tone, 'Surely I am much obligedAh, Mr Bramble! I now recollect your features, though I have not seen you these many years.' 'We might have been less strangers to one another (answered the squire) if our correspondence had not been interrupted, in consequence of a misunderstanding, occasioned by this very, but no matterMr Serle, I esteem your character; and my friendship, such as it is, you may freely command.' 'The offer is too agreeable to be declined (said he); I embrace it very cordially; and, as the first fruits of it, request that you will change this subject, which, with me, is a matter of peculiar delicacy.' My uncle owned he was in the right, and the discourse took a more general turn. Mr Serle passed the evening with us at our lodgings; and appeared to be intelligent, and even entertaining; but his disposition was rather of a melancholy hue. My uncle says he is a man of uncommon parts, and unquestioned probity: that his fortune, which was originally small, has been greatly hurt by a romantic spirit of generosity, which he has often displayed, even at the expence of his discretion, in favour of worthless individualsThat he had rescued Paunceford from the lowest distress, when he was bankrupt, both in means and reputationThat he had espoused his interests with a degree of enthusiasm, broke with several friends, and even drawn his sword against my uncle, who had particular reasons for questioning the moral character of the said Paunceford: that, without Serle's countenance and assistance, the other never could have embraced the opportunity, which has raised him to this pinnacle of wealth: that Paunceford, in the first transports of his success, had written, from abroad, letters to different correspondents, owning his obligations to Mr Serle, in the warmest terms of acknowledgement, and declared he considered himself only as a factor for the occasions of his best friend: that, without doubt, he had made declarations of the same nature to his benefactor himself, though this last was always silent and reserved on the subject; but for some years, those tropes and figures of rhetoric had been disused; that, upon his return to England, he had been lavish in his caresses to Mr Serle, invited him to his house, and pressed him to make it his own: that he had overwhelmed him with general professions, and affected to express the warmest regard for him, in company of their common acquaintance; so that every body believed his gratitude was liberal as his fortune; and some went so far as to congratulate Mr Serle on both. All this time Paunceford carefully and artfully avoided particular discussions with his old patron, who had too much spirit to drop the most distant hint of balancing the account of obligation: that, nevertheless, a man of his feelings could not but resent this shocking return for all his kindness: and, therefore, he withdrew himself from the connexion, without coming to the least explanation or speaking a syllable on the subject to any living soul; so that now their correspondence is reduced to a slight salute with the hat, when they chance to meet in any public place; an accident that rarely happens, for their walks lie different ways. Mr Paunceford lives in a palace, feeds upon dainties, is arrayed in sumptuous apparel, appears in all the pomp of equipage, and passes his time among the nobles of the land. Serle lodges in Stallstreet, up two pair of stairs backwards, walks afoot in a Bathrug, eats for twelve shillings aweek, and drinks water as preservative against the gout and gravelMark the vicissitude. Paunceford once resided in a garret; where he subsisted upon sheep'strotters and cowheel, from which commons he was translated to the table of Serle, that ever abounded with goodchear; until want of economy and retention reduced him to a slender annuity in his decline of years, that scarce affords the bare necessaries of life.Paunceford, however, does him the honour to speak of him still, with uncommon regard; and to declare what pleasure it would give him to contribute in any shape to his convenience: 'But you know (he never fails to add) he's a shy kind of a manAnd then such a perfect philosopher, that he looks upon all superfluities with the most sovereign contempt. Having given you this sketch of squire Paunceford, I need not make any comment on his character, but leave it at the mercy of your own reflection; from which I dare say, it will meet with as little quarter as it has found with Yours always, J. MELFORD BATH, May 10. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MOLLY, We are all upon the vingHey for London, girl!Fecks! we have been long enough here; for we're all turned tipsy turvyMistress has excarded Sir Ulic for kicking of Chowder; and I have sent O Frizzle away, with a flea in his earI've shewn him how little I minded his tinsy and his long tailA fellor, who would think for to go, for to offer, to take up with a dirty trollop under my noseI ketched him in the very feet, coming out of the housemaids garret.But I have gi'en the dirty slut a siserary. O Molly! the sarvants at Bath are devils in garnet. They lite the candle at both endsHere's nothing but ginketting, and wasting, and thieving and tricking, and trigging; and then they are never contentThey won't suffer the 'squire and mistress to stay any longer; because they have been already above three weeks in the house; and they look for a couple of ginneys apiece at our going away; and this is a parquisite they expect every month in the season; being as how no family has a right to stay longer than four weeks in the same lodgings; and so the cuck swears she will pin the dishclout to mistress's tail; and the housemaid vows, she'll put cowitch in master's bed, if so be he don't discamp without furder adoI don't blame them for making the most of their market, in the way of vails and parquisites; and I defy the devil to say I am a tailcarrier, or ever brought a poor sarvant into troubleBut then they oft to have some conscience, in vronging those that be sarvants like themselvesFor you must no, Molly, I missed threequarters of blond lace, and a remnant of muslin, and my silver thimble; which was the gift of true love; they were all in my workbasket, that I left upon the table in the sarvantshall, when mistresses bell rung; but if they had been under lock and kay, 'twould have been all the same; for there are double keys to all the locks in Bath; and they say as how the very teeth an't safe in your head, if you sleep with your mouth openAnd so says I to myself, them things could not go without hands; and so I'll watch their waters: and so I did with a vitness; for then it was I found Bett consarned with O Frizzle. And as the cuck had thrown her slush at me, because I had taken part with Chowder, when he fit, with the turnspit, I resolved to make a clear kitchen, and throw some of her fat into the fire. I ketched the charewoman going out with her load in the morning, before she thought I was up, and brought her to mistress with her whole cargoMarry, what do'st think she had got in the name of God? Her buckets were foaming full of our best bear, and her lap was stuffed with a cold tongue, part of a buttock of beef, half a turkey, and a swinging lump of butter, and the matter of ten mould kandles, that had scarce ever been lit. The cuck brazened it out, and said it was her rite to rummage the pantry; and she was ready for to go before the mare: that he had been her potticary many years, and would never think of hurting a poor sarvant, for giving away the scraps of the kitchen. I went another way to work with madam Betty, because she had been saucy, and called me skandelus names; and said O Frizzle couldn't abide me, and twenty other odorous falsehoods. I got a varrant from the mare, and her box being sarched by the constable, my things came out sure enuff; besides a full pound of vax candles, and a nitecap of mistress, that I could sware to on my cruperal oafO! then madam Mopstick came upon her merry bones; and as the squire wouldn't hare of a pursecution, she scaped a skewering: but the longest day she has to live, she'll remember your Humble sarvant, W. JENKINS BATH, May 15. If the hind should come again, before we be gone, pray send me the shift and apron, with the vite gallow manky shoes; which you'll find in my pillowberSarvice to Saul To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. You are in the right, dear Phillips; I don't expect regular answers to every letterI know a collegelife is too circumscribed to afford materials for such quick returns of communication. For my part, I am continually shifting the scene, and surrounded with new objects; some of which are striking enough. I shall therefore conclude my journal for your amusement; and, though, in all appearance, it will not treat of very important or interesting particulars, it may prove, perhaps, not altogether uninstructive and unentertaining. The music and entertainments of Bath are over for this season; and all our gay birds of passage have taken their flight to Bristolwell, Tunbridge, Brighthelmstone, Scarborough, Harrowgate, c. Not a soul is seen in this place, but a few brokenwinded parsons, waddling like so many crows along the North Parade. There is always a great shew of the clergy at Bath: none of your thin, puny, yellow, hectic figures, exhausted with abstinence, and hardy study, labouring under the morbi eruditorum, but great overgrown dignitaries and rectors, with rubicund noses and gouty ancles, or broad bloated faces, dragging along great swag bellies; the emblems of sloth and indigestion. Now we are upon the subject of parsons, I must tell you a ludicrous adventure, which was achieved the other day by Tom Eastgate, whom you may remember on the foundation of Queen's. He had been very assiduous to pin himself upon George Prankley, who was a gentlemancommoner of Christchurch, knowing the said Prankley was heir to a considerable estate, and would have the advowson of a good living, the incumbent of which was very old and infirm. He studied his passions, and flattered them so effectually, as to become his companion and counsellor; and, at last, obtained of him a promise of the presentation, when the living should fall. Prankley, on his uncle's death, quitted Oxford, and made his first appearance in the fashionable world at London; from whence he came lately to Bath, where he has been exhibiting himself among the bucks and gamesters of the place. Eastgate followed him hither; but he should not have quitted him for a moment, at his first emerging into life. He ought to have known he was a fantastic, foolish, fickle fellow, who would forget his collegeattachments the moment they ceased appealing to his senses. Tom met with a cold reception from his old friend; and was, moreover, informed, that he had promised the living to another man, who had a vote in the county, where he proposed to offer himself a candidate at the next general election. He now remembered nothing of Eastgate, but the freedoms he had used to take with him, while Tom had quietly stood his butt, with an eye to the benefice; and those freedoms he began to repeat in commonplace sarcasms on his person and his cloth, which he uttered in the public coffeehouse, for the entertainment of the company. But he was egregiously mistaken in giving his own wit credit for that tameness of Eastgate, which had been entirely owing to prudential considerations. These being now removed, he retorted his repartee with interest, and found no great difficulty in turning the laugh upon the aggressor; who, losing his temper, called him names, and asked, If he knew whom he talked to? After much altercation, Prankley, shaking his cane, bid him hold his tongue, otherwise he could dust his cassock for him. 'I have no pretensions to such a valet (said Tom) but if you should do me that office, and overheat yourself, I have here a good oaken towel at your service.' Prankley was equally incensed and confounded at this reply. After a moment's pause, he took him aside towards die window; and, pointing to the clump of firs, on Clerkendown, asked in a whisper, if he had spirit enough to meet him there, with a case of pistols, at six o'clock tomorrow morning. Eastgate answered in the affirmative; and, with a steady countenance, assured him, he would not fail to give him the rendezvous at the hour he mentioned. So saying, he retired; and the challenger stayed some time in manifest agitation. In the morning, Eastgate, who knew his man, and had taken his resolution, went to Prankley's lodgings, and roused him by five o'clock. The squire, in all probability, cursed his punctuality in his heart, but he affected to talk big; and having prepared his artillery overnight, they crossed the water at the end of the South Parade. In their progress up the hill, Prankley often eyed the parson, in hopes of perceiving some reluctance in his countenance; but as no such marks appeared, he attempted to intimidate him by word of mouth. 'If these flints do their office (said he) I'll do thy business in a few minutes.' 'I desire you will do your best (replied the other); for my part, I come not here to trifle. Our lives are in the hands of God; and one of us already totters on the brink of eternity' This remark seemed to make some impression upon the squire, who changed countenance, and with a faultering accent observed, 'That it ill became a clergyman to be concerned in quarrels and bloodshed''Your insolence to me (said Eastgate) I should have bore with patience, had not you cast the most infamous reflections upon my order, the honour of which I think myself in duty bound to maintain, even at the expence of my heart's blood; and surely it can be no crime to put out of the world a profligate wretch, without any sense of principle, morality, or religion''Thou may'st take away my life (cried Prankley, in great perturbation) but don't go to murder my character. What! has't got no conscience?' 'My conscience is perfectly quiet (replied the other); and now, Sir, we are upon the spotTake your ground as near as you please; prime your pistol; and the Lord, of his infinite mercy, have compassion upon your miserable soul!' This ejaculation he pronounced in a loud solemn tone, with his hat off, and his eyes lifted up; then drawing a large horsepistol, he presented, and put himself in a posture of action. Prankley took his distance, and endeavoured to prime, but his hand shook with such violence, that he found this operation impracticableHis antagonist, seeing how it was with him, offered his assistance, and advanced for that purpose; when the poor squire, exceedingly alarmed at what he had heard and seen, desired the action might be deferred till next day, as he had not settled his affairs. 'I ha'n't made my will (said he); my sisters are not provided for; and I just now recollect an old promise, which my conscience tells me I ought to performI'll first convince thee, that I'm not a wretch without principle, and then thou shalt have an opportunity to take my life, which thou seem'st to thirst after so eagerly.' Eastgate understood the hint; and told him, that one day should break no squares: adding, 'God forbid that I should be the means of hindering you from acting the part of an honest man, and a dutiful brother'By virtue of this cessation, they returned peaceably together. Prankley forthwith made out the presentation of the living, and delivered it to Eastgate, telling him at the same time, he had now settled his affairs, and was ready to attend him to the Firgrove; but Tom declared he could not think of lifting his hand against the life of so great a benefactorHe did more: when they next met at the coffeehouse, he asked pardon of Mr Prankley, if in his passion he had said any thing to give him offence; and the squire was so gracious as to forgive him with a cordial shake of the hand, declaring, that he did not like to be at variance with an old college companionNext day, however, he left Bath abruptly; and then Eastgate told me all these particulars, not a little pleased with the effects of his own sagacity, by which he has secured a living worth 160l. per annum. Of my uncle, I have nothing at present to say; but that we set out tomorrow for London en famille. He and the ladies, with the maid and Chowder in a coach; I and the manservant ahorseback. The particulars of our journey you shall have in my next, provided no accident happens to prevent, Yours ever, J. MELFORD BATH May 17. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, I shall tomorrow set out for London, where I have bespoke lodgings, at Mrs Norton's in Goldensquare. Although I am no admirer of Bath, I shall leave it with regret; because I must part with some old friends, whom, in all probability, I shall never see again. In the course of coffeehouse conversation, I had often heard very extraordinary encomiums passed on the performances of Mr T, a gentleman residing in this place, who paints landscapes for his amusement. As I have no great confidence in the taste and judgment of coffeehouse connoisseurs, and never received much pleasure from this branch of the art, those general praises made no impression at all on my curiosity; but, at the request of a particular friend, I went yesterday to see the pieces, which had been so warmly commendedI must own I am no judge of painting, though very fond of pictures. I don't imagine that my senses would play me so false, as to betray me into admiration of any thing that was very bad; but, true it is, I have often overlooked capital beauties, in pieces of extraordinary merit.If I am not totally devoid of taste, however, this young gentleman of Bath is the best landscapepainter now living: I was struck with his performances in such a manner, as I had never been by painting before. His trees not only have a richness of foliage and warmth of colouring, which delights the view; but also a certain magnificence in the disposition and spirit in the expression, which I cannot describe. His management of the chiaro oscuro, or light and shadow, especially gleams of sunshine, is altogether wonderful, both in the contrivance and execution; and he is so happy in his perspective, and marking his distances at sea, by a progressive series of ships, vessels, capes, and promontories, that I could not help thinking, I had a distant view of thirty leagues upon the background of the picture. If there is any taste for ingenuity left in a degenerate age, fast sinking into barbarism, this artist, I apprehend, will make a capital figure, as soon as his works are known. Two days ago, I was favoured with a visit by Mr Fitzowen; who, with great formality, solicited my vote and interest at the general election. I ought not to have been shocked at the confidence of this man; though it was remarkable, considering what had passed between him and me on a former occasionThese visits are mere matter of form, which a candidate makes to every elector; even to those who, he knows, are engaged in the interest of his competitor, lest he should expose himself to the imputation of pride, at a time when it is expected he should appear humble. Indeed, I know nothing so abject as the behaviour of a man canvassing for a seat in parliamentThis mean prostration (to boroughelectors, especially) has, I imagine, contributed in a great measure to raise that spirit of insolence among the vulgar; which, like the devil, will be found very difficult to lay. Be that as it may, I was in some confusion at the effrontery of Fitzowen; but I soon recollected myself, and told him, I had not yet determined for whom I should give my vote, nor whether I should give it for any.The truth is, I look upon both candidates in the same light; and should think myself a traitor to the constitution of my country, if I voted for either. If every elector would bring the same consideration home to his conscience, we should not have such reason to exclaim against the venality of pts. But we all are a pack of venal and corrupted rascals; so lost to all sense of honesty, and all tenderness of character, that, in a little time, I am fully persuaded, nothing will be infamous but virtue and publicspirit. G. H, who is really an enthusiast in patriotism, and represented the capital in several successive parliaments, declared to me t'other day, with the tears in his eyes, that he had lived above thirty years in the city of London, and dealt in the way of commerce with all the citizens of note in their turns; but that, as he should answer to God, he had never, in the whole course of his life, found above three or four whom he could call thoroughly honest: a declaration which was rather mortifying than surprising to me; who have found so few men of worth in the course of my acquaintance, that they serve only as exceptions; which, in the grammarian's phrase, confirm and prove a general canonI know you will say, G. H saw imperfectly through the mist of prejudice, and I am rankled by the spleenPerhaps, you are partly in the right; for I have perceived that my opinion of mankind, like mercury in the thermometer, rises and falls according to the variations of the weather. Pray settle accompts with Barnes; take what money of mine is in his hands, and give him acquittance. If you think Davis has stock or credit enough to do justice to the farm, give him a discharge for the rent that is due, this will animate his industry; for I know that nothing is so discouraging to a farmer as the thoughts of being in arrears with his landlord. He becomes dispirited, and neglects his labour; and so the farm goes to wreck. Tabby has been clamouring for some days about the lamb's skin, which Williams, the hind, begged of me, when he was last at Bath. Prithee take it back, paying the fellow the full value of it, that I may have some peace in my own house; and let him keep his own counsel, if he means to keep his placeO! I shall never presume to despise or censure any poor man, for suffering himself to be henpecked; conscious how I myself am obliged to truckle to a domestic demon; even though (blessed be God) she is not yoked with me for life, in the matrimonial waggonShe has quarrelled with the servants of the house about vails; and such intolerable scolding ensued on both sides, that I have been fain to appease the cook and chambermaid by stealth. Can't you find some poor gentleman of Wales, to take this precious commodity off the hands of Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE BATH, May 19. To Dr LEWIS. DOCTER LEWS, Give me leaf to tell you, methinks you mought employ your talons better, than to encourage servants to pillage their masters. I find by Gwyllim, that Villiams has got my skin; for which he is an impotent rascal. He has not only got my skin, but, moreover, my buttermilk to fatten his pigs; and, I suppose, the next thing he gets, will be my pad to carry his daughter to church and fair: Roger gets this, and Roger gets that; but I'd have you to know, I won't be rogered at this rate by any ragmatical fellow in the kingdomAnd I am surprised, docter Lews, you would offer to put my affairs in composition with the refuge and skim of the hearth. I have toiled and moyled to a good purpuss, for the advantage of Matt's family, if I can't safe as much owl as will make me an under petticoat. As for the buttermilk, ne'er a pig in the parish shall thrust his snout in it, with my goodwill. There's a famous physician at the Hot Well, that prescribes it to his patience, when the case is consumptive; and the Scots and Irish have begun to drink it already, in such quantities, that there is not a drop left for the hogs in the whole neighbourhood of Bristol. I'll have our buttermilk barrelled up, and sent twice aweek to Aberginny, where it may be sold for a halfpenny the quart; and so Roger may carry his pigs to another marketI hope, Docter, you will not go to put any more such phims in my brother's head, to the prejudice of my pockat; but rather give me some raisins (which hitherto you have not done) to subscribe myself Your humble servant, TAB. BRAMBLE BATH, May 19. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, Without waiting for your answer to my last, I proceed to give you an account of our journey to London, which has not been wholly barren of adventure. Tuesday last the 'squire took his place in a hired coach and four, accompanied by his sister and mine, and Mrs Tabby's maid, Winifrid Jenkins, whose province it was to support Chowder on a cushion in her lap. I could scarce refrain from laughing when I looked into the vehicle, and saw that animal sitting opposite to my uncle, like any other passenger. The squire, ashamed of his situation, blushed to the eyes: and, calling to the postilions to drive on, pulled the glass up in my face. I, and his servant, John Thomas, attended them on horseback. Nothing worth mentioning occurred, till we arrived on the edge of Marlborough Downs. There one of the four horses fell, in going down hill at a round trot; and the postilion behind, endeavouring to stop the carriage, pulled it on one side into a deep rut, where it was fairly overturned. I had rode on about two hundred yards before; but, hearing a loud scream, galloped back and dismounted, to give what assistance was in my power. When I looked into the coach, I could see nothing distinctly, but the nether end of Jenkins, who was kicking her heels and squalling with great vociferation. All of a sudden, my uncle thrust up his bare pate, and bolted through the window, as nimble as a grasshopper, having made use of poor Win's posteriors as a step to rise in his ascentThe man (who had likewise quitted his horse) dragged this forlorn damsel, more dead than alive, through the same opening. Then Mr Bramble, pulling the door off its hinges with a jerk, laid hold on Liddy's arm, and brought her to the light; very much frighted, but little hurt. It fell to my share to deliver our aunt Tabitha, who had lost her cap in the struggle, and being rather more than half frantic, with rage and terror, was no bad representation of one of the sister Furies that guard the gates of hellShe expressed no sort of concern for her brother, who ran about in the cold, without his periwig, and worked with the most astonishing agility, in helping to disentangle the horses from the carriage: but she cried, in a tone of distraction, 'Chowder! Chowder! my dear Chowder! my poor Chowder is certainly killed!' This was not the caseChowder, after having tore my uncle's leg in the confusion of the fall, had retreated under the scat, and from thence the footman drew him by the neck; for which good office, he bit his fingers to the bone. The fellow, who is naturally surly, was so provoked at this assault, that he saluted his ribs with a hearty kick, exclaiming, 'Damn the nasty son of a bitch, and them he belongs to!' A benediction, which was by no means lost upon the implacable virago his mistressHer brother, however, prevailed upon her to retire into a peasant's house, near the scene of action, where his head and hers were covered, and poor Jenkins had a fit. Our next care was to apply some sticking plaister to the wound in his leg, which exhibited the impression of Chowder's teeth; but he never opened his lips against the delinquentMrs Tabby, alarmed at this scene, 'You say nothing, Matt (cried she); but I know your mindI know the spite you have to that poor unfortunate animal! I know you intend to take his life away!' 'You are mistaken, upon my honour! (replied the squire, with a sarcastic smile) I should be incapable of harbouring any such cruel design against an object so amiable and inoffensive; even if he had not the happiness to be your favourite.' John Thomas was not so delicate. The fellow, whether really alarmed for his life, or instigated by the desire of revenge, came in, and bluntly demanded, that the dog should be put to death; on the supposition, that if ever he should run mad hereafter, he, who had been bit by him, would be infectedMy uncle calmly argued upon the absurdity of his opinion, observing, that he himself was in the same predicament, and would certainly take the precaution he proposed, if he was not sure he ran no risque of infection. Nevertheless, Thomas continued obstinate; and, at length declared, that if the dog was not shot immediately, he himself would be his executionerThis declaration opened the floodgates of Tabby's eloquence, which would have shamed the firstrate oratress of Billingsgate. The footman retorted in the same stile; and the squire dismissed him from his service, after having prevented me from giving him a good horsewhipping for his insolence. The coach being adjusted, another difficulty occurredMrs Tabitha absolutely refused to enter it again, unless another driver could be found to take the place of the postilion; who, she affirmed, had overturned the carriage from malice aforethoughtAfter much dispute, the man resigned his place to a shabby country fellow, who undertook to go as far as Marlborough, where they could be better provided; and at that place we arrived about one O'clock, without farther impediment. Mrs Bramble, however, found new matter of offence; which, indeed, she has a particular genius for extracting at will from almost every incident in life. We had scarce entered the room at Marlborough, where we stayed to dine, when she exhibited a formal complaint against the poor fellow who had superseded the postilion. She said he was such a beggarly rascal that he had ne'er a shirt to his back, and had the impudence to shock her sight by shewing his bare posteriors, for which act of indelicacy he deserved to be set in the stocks. Mrs Winifred Jenkins confirmed the assertion, with respect to his nakedness, observing, at the same time, that he had a skin as fair as alabaster. 'This is a heinous offence, indeed (cried my uncle) let us hear what the fellow has to say in his own vindication.' He was accordingly summoned, and made his appearance, which was equally queer and pathetic. He seemed to be about twenty years of age, of a middling size, with bandy legs, stooping shoulders, high forehead, sandy locks, pinking eyes, flat nose, and long chinbut his complexion was of a sickly yellow; his looks denoted famine, and the rags that he wore could hardly conceal what decency requires to be coveredMy uncle, having surveyed him attentively, said, with an ironical expression in his countenance, 'An't you ashamed, fellow, to ride postilion without a shirt to cover your backside from the view of the ladies in the coach?' 'Yes, I am, an please your noble honour (answered the man) but necessity has no law, as the saying isAnd more than that, it was an accident. My breeches cracked behind, after I had got into the saddle' 'You're an impudent varlet (cried Mrs Tabby) for presuming to ride before persons of fashion without a shirt''I am so, an please your worthy ladyship (said he) but I am a poor Wiltshire ladI ha'n't a shirt in the world, that I can call my own, nor a rag of clothes, and please your ladyship, but what you seeI have no friend nor relation upon earth to help me outI have had the fever and ague these six months, and spent all I had in the world upon doctors, and to keep soul and body together; and, saving your ladyship's good presence, I han't broke bread these four and twenty hours.' Mrs Bramble, turning from him, said, she had never seen such a filthy tatterdemalion, and bid him begone; observing, that he would fill the room full of verminHer brother darted a significant glance at her, as she retired with Liddy into another apartment, and then asked the man if he was known to any person in Marlborough?When he answered, that the landlord of the inn had known him from his infancy; mine host was immediately called, and being interrogated on the subject, declared that the young fellow's name was Humphry Clinker. That he had been a love begotten babe, brought up in the workhouse, and put out apprentice by the parish to a country blacksmith, who died before the boy's time was out: that he had for some time worked under his ostler, as a helper and extra postilion, till he was taken ill of the ague, which disabled him from getting his bread: that, having sold or pawned every thing he had in the world for his cure and subsistence, he became so miserable and shabby, that he disgraced the stable, and was dismissed; but that he never heard any thing to the prejudice of his character in other respects. 'So that the fellow being sick and destitute (said my uncle) you turned him out to die in the streets.' 'I pay the poor's rate (replied the other) and I have no right to maintain idle vagrants, either in sickness or health; besides, such a miserable object would have brought a discredit upon my house.' 'You perceive (said the 'squire, turning to me) our landlord is a Christian of bowelsWho shall presume to censure the morals of the age, when the very publicans exhibit such examples of humanity?Heark ye, Clinker, you are a most notorious offenderYou stand convicted of sickness, hunger, wretchedness, and wantBut, as it does not belong to me to punish criminals, I will only take upon me the task of giving you a word of advice. Get a shirt with all convenient dispatch, that your nakedness may not henceforward give offence to travelling gentlewomen, especially maidens in years.' So saying, he put a guinea into the hand of the poor fellow, who stood staring at him in silence, with his mouth wide open, till the landlord pushed him out of the room. In the afternoon, as our aunt stept into the coach, she observed, with some marks of satisfaction, that the postilion, who rode next to her, was not a shabby wretch like the ragamuffin who had them into Marlborough. Indeed, the difference was very conspicuous: this was a smart fellow, with a narrow brimmed hat, with gold cording, a cut bob, a decent blue jacket, leatherbreaches, and a clean linen shirt, puffed above the waistband. When we arrived at the Castle, on Spinhill, where we lay, this new postilion was remarkably assiduous in bringing in the loose parcels; and, at length, displayed the individual countenance of Humphry Clinker, who had metamorphosed himself in this manner, by relieving from pawn part of his own clothes, with the money he had received from Mr Bramble. Howsoever pleased the rest of the company were with such a favourable change in the appearance of this poor creature it soured on the stomach of Mrs Tabby, who had not yet digested the affront of his naked skinShe tossed her nose in disdain, saying, she supposed her brother had taken him into favour, because he had insulted her with his obscenity: that a fool and his money were soon parted; but that if Matt intended to take the fellow with him to London, she would not go a foot further that wayMy uncle said nothing with his tongue, though his looks were sufficiently expressive; and next morning Clinker did not appear, so that we proceeded without further altercation to Salthill, where we proposed to dineThere, the first person that came to the side of the coach, and began to adjust the footboard, was no other than Humphry ClinkerWhen I handed out Mrs Bramble, she eyed him with a furious look, and passed into the houseMy uncle was embarrassed, and asked him peevishly, what had brought him hither? The fellow said, his honour had been so good to him, that he had not the heart to part with him; that he would follow him to the world's end, and serve him all the days of his life, without fee or reward. Mr Bramble did not know whether to chide or laugh at this declarationHe foresaw much contradiction on the side of Tabby; and on the other hand, he could not but be pleased with the gratitude of Clinker, as well as with the simplicity of his character'Suppose I was inclined to take you into my service (said he) what are your qualifications? what are you good for?' 'An please your honour (answered this original) I can read and write, and do the business of the stable indifferent wellI can dress a horse, and shoe him, and bleed and rowel him; and, as for the practice of sowgelding, I won't turn my back on e'er a he in the county of WiltsThen I can make hog's puddings and hobnails, mend kettles and tin saucepans.'Here uncle burst out alaughing; and inquired what other accomplishments he was master of'I know something of singlestick, and psalmody (proceeded Clinker); I can play upon the jew'sharp, sing Blackey'd Susan, Arthuro'Bradley, and divers other songs; I can dance a Welsh jig, and Nancy Dawson; wrestle a fall with any lad of my inches, when I'm in heart; and, under correction I can find a hare when your honour wants a bit of game.' 'Foregad! thou are a complete fellow (cried my uncle, still laughing) I have a good mind to take thee into my familyPrithee, go and try if thou can'st make peace with my sisterThou ha'st given her much offence by shewing her thy naked tail.' Clinker accordingly followed us into the room, cap in hand, where, addressing himself to Mrs Tabitha, 'May it please your ladyship's worship (cried he) to pardon and forgive my offences, and, with God's assistance, I shall take care that my tail shall never rise up in judgment against me, to offend your ladyship again. Do, pray, good, sweet, beautiful lady, take compassion on a poor sinnerGod bless your noble countenance; I am sure you are too handsome and generous to bear maliceI will serve you on my bended knees, by night and by day, by land and by water; and all for the love and pleasure of serving such an excellent lady.' This compliment and humiliation had some effect upon Tabby; but she made no reply; and Clinker, taking silence for consent, gave his attendance at dinner. The fellow's natural aukwardness and the flutter of his spirits were productive of repeated blunders in the course of his attendanceAt length, he spilt part of a custard upon her right shoulder; and, starting back, trod upon Chowder, who set up a dismal howlPoor Humphry was so disconcerted at this double mistake, that he dropt the china dish, which broke into a thousand pieces; then, falling down upon his knees, remained in that posture gaping, with a most ludicrous aspect of distress. Mrs Bramble flew to the dog, and, snatching him in her arms, presented him to her brother saying, 'This is all a concerted scheme against this unfortunate animal, whose only crime is its regard for meHere it is, kill it at once, and then you'll be satisfied.' Clinker, hearing these words, and taking them in the literal acceptation, got up in some hurry, and seizing a knife from the sideboard, cried, 'Not here, an please your ladyshipIt will daub the roomGive him to me, and I'll carry him to the ditch by the roadside' To this proposal he received no other answer, than a hearty box on the ear, that made him stagger to the other side of the room. 'What! (said she to her brother) am I to be affronted by every mangy hound that you pick up on the highway? I insist upon your sending this rascallion about his business immediately' 'For God's sake, sister, compose yourself (said my uncle) and consider that the poor fellow is innocent of any intention to give you offence' 'Innocent as the babe unborn' (cried Humphry). 'I see it plainly (exclaimed this implacable maiden), he acts by your direction; and you are resolved to support him in his impudence This is a bad return for all the services I have done you; for nursing you in your sickness, managing your family, and keeping you from ruining yourself by your own imprudenceBut now you shall part with that rascal or me, upon the spot, without farther loss of time; and the world shall see whether you have more regard for your own flesh and blood, or for a beggarly foundling taken from the dunghill.' Mr Bramble's eyes began to glisten, and his teeth to chatter. 'If stated fairly (said he, raising his voice) the question is, whether I have spirit to shake off an intolerable yoke, by one effort of resolution, or meanness enough to do an act of cruelty and injustice, to gratify the rancour of a capricious womanHeark ye, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, I will now propose an alternative in my turn. Either discard your fourfooted favourite, or give me leave to bid you eternally adieuFor I am determined that he and I shall live no longer under the same roof; and to dinner with what appetite you may'Thunderstruck at this declaration, she sat down in a corner; and, after a pause of some minutes, 'Sure I don't understand you, Matt! (said she)' 'And yet I spoke in plain English' answered the 'squire, with a peremptory look. 'Sir (resumed this virago, effectually humbled), it is your prerogative to command, and my duty to obey. I can't dispose of the dog in this place; but if you'll allow him to go in the coach to London, I give you my word, he shall never trouble you again.' Her brother, entirely disarmed by this mild reply, declared, she could ask him nothing in reason that he would refuse; adding, 'I hope, sister, you have never found me deficient in natural affection.' Mrs Tabitha immediately rose, and, throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him on the cheek: he returned her embrace with great emotion. Liddy sobbed, Win. Jenkins cackled, Chowder capered, and Clinker skipped about, rubbing his hands for joy of this reconciliation. Concord being thus restored, we finished our meal with comfort; and in the evening arrived at London, without having met with any other adventure. My aunt seems to be much mended by the hint she received from her brother. She has been graciously pleased to remove her displeasure from Clinker, who is now retained as a footman; and in a day or two will make his appearance in a new suit of livery; but as he is little acquainted with London, we have taken an occasional valet, whom I intend hereafter to hire as my own servant. We lodge in Goldensquare, at the house of one Mrs Notion, a decent sort of a woman, who takes great pains to make us all easy. My uncle proposes to make a circuit of all the remarkable scenes of this metropolis, for the entertainment of his pupils; but as both you and I are already acquainted with most of those he will visit, and with some others he little dreams of, I shall only communicate what will be in some measure new to your observation. Remember me to our Jesuitical friends, and believe me ever, Dear knight, Yours affectionately, J. MELFORD LONDON, May 24. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, London is literally new to me; new in its streets, houses, and even in its situation; as the Irishman said, 'London is now gone out of town.' What I left open fields, producing hay and corn, I now find covered with streets and squares, and palaces, and churches. I am credibly informed, that in the space of seven years, eleven thousand new houses have been built in one quarter of Westminster, exclusive of what is daily added to other parts of this unwieldy metropolis. Pimlico and Knightsbridge are now almost joined to Chelsea and Kensington; and if this infatuation continues for half a century, I suppose the whole county of Middlesex will be covered with brick. It must be allowed, indeed, for the credit of the present age, that London and Westminster are much better paved and lighted than they were formerly. The new streets are spacious, regular, and airy; and the houses generally convenient. The bridge at Blackfriars is a noble monument of taste and publicspirit.I wonder how they stumbled upon a work of such magnificence and utility. But, notwithstanding these improvements, the capital is become an overgrown monster; which, like a dropsical head, will in time leave the body and extremities without nourishment and support. The absurdity will appear in its full force, when we consider that one sixth part of the natives of this whole extensive kingdom is crowded within the bills of mortality. What wonder that our villages are depopulated, and our farms in want of daylabourers? The abolition of small farms is but one cause of the decrease of population. Indeed, the incredible increase of horses and black cattle, to answer the purposes of luxury, requires a prodigious quantity of hay and grass, which are raised and managed without much labour; but a number of hands will always be wanted for the different branches of agriculture, whether the farms be large or small. The tide of luxury has swept all the inhabitants from the open countryThe poorest squire, as well as the richest peer, must have his house in town, and make a figure with an extraordinary number of domestics. The ploughboys, cowherds, and lower hinds are debauched and seduced by the appearance and discourse of those coxcombs in livery, when they make their summer excursions. They desert their dirt and drudgery, and swarm up to London, in hopes of getting into service, where they can live luxuriously and wear fine clothes, without being obliged to work; for idleness is natural to manGreat numbers of these, being disappointed in their expectation, become thieves and sharpers; and London being an immense wilderness, in which there is neither watch nor ward of any signification, nor any order or police, affords them lurkingplaces as well as prey. There are many causes that contribute to the daily increase of this enormous mass; but they may be all resolved into the grand source of luxury and corruptionAbout five and twenty years ago, very few, even of the most opulent citizens of London, kept any equipage, or even any servants in livery. Their tables produced nothing but plain boiled and roasted, with a bottle of port and a tankard of beer. At present, every trader in any degree of credit, every broker and attorney, maintains a couple of footmen, a coachman, and postilion. He has his townhouse, and his countryhouse, his coach, and his postchaise. His wife and daughters appear in the richest stuffs, bespangled with diamonds. They frequent the court, the opera, the theatre, and the masquerade. They hold assemblies at their own houses: they make sumptuous entertainments, and treat with the richest wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champagne. The substantial tradesman, who wont to pass his evenings at the alehouse for fourpence halfpenny, now spends three shillings at the tavern, while his wife keeps cardtables at home; she must likewise have fine clothes, her chaise, or pad, with country lodgings, and go three times a week to public diversions. Every clerk, apprentice, and even waiter of tavern or coffeehouse, maintains a gelding by himself, or in partnership, and assumes the air and apparel of a petit maitreThe gayest places of public entertainment are filled with fashionable figures; which, upon inquiry, will be found to be journeymen taylors, servingmen, and abigails, disguised like their betters. In short, there is no distinction or subordination leftThe different departments of life are jumbled togetherThe hodcarrier, the low mechanic, the tapster, the publican, the shopkeeper, the pettifogger, the citizen, and courtier, all tread upon the kibes of one another: actuated by the demons of profligacy and licentiousness, they are seen every where rambling, riding, rolling, rushing, justling, mixing, bouncing, cracking, and crashing in one vile ferment of stupidity and corruptionAll is tumult and hurry; one would imagine they were impelled by some disorder of the brain, that will not suffer them to be at rest. The footpassengers run along as if they were pursued by bailiffs. The porters and chairmen trot with their burthens. People, who keep their own equipages, drive through the streets at full speed. Even citizens, physicians, and apothecaries, glide in their chariots like lightening. The hackneycoachmen make their horses smoke, and the pavement shakes under them; and I have actually seen a waggon pass through Piccadilly at the handgallop. In a word, the whole nation seems to be running out of their wits. The diversions of the times are not ill suited to the genius of this incongruous monster, called the public. Give it noise, confusion, glare, and glitter; it has no idea of elegance and proprietyWhat are the amusements of Ranelagh? One half of the company are following at the other's tails, in an eternal circle; like so many blind asses in an olivemill, where they can neither discourse, distinguish, nor be distinguished; while the other half are drinking hot water, under the denomination of tea, till nine or ten o'clock at night, to keep them awake for the rest of the evening. As for the orchestra, the vocal music especially, it is well for the performers that they cannot be heard distinctly. Vauxhall is a composition of baubles, overcharged with paltry ornaments, ill conceived, and poorly executed; without any unity of design, or propriety of disposition. It is an unnatural assembly of objects, fantastically illuminated in broken masses; seemingly contrived to dazzle the eyes and divert the imagination of the vulgarHere a wooden lion, there a stone statue; in one place, a range of things like coffeehouse boxes, covered atop; in another, a parcel of alehouse benches; in a third, a puppetshow representation of a tin cascade; in a fourth, a gloomy cave of a circular form, like a sepulchral vault half lighted; in a fifth, a scanty flip of grassplat, that would not afford pasture sufficient for an ass's colt. The walks, which nature seems to have intended for solitude, shade, and silence, are filled with crowds of noisy people, sucking up the nocturnal rheums of an aguish climate; and through these gay scenes, a few lamps glimmer like so many farthing candles. When I see a number of well dressed people, of both sexes, sitting on the covered benches, exposed to the eyes of the mob; and, which is worse, to the cold, raw, nightair, devouring sliced beef, and swilling port, and punch, and cyder, I can't help compassionating their temerity; white I despise their want of taste and decorum; but, when they course along those damp and gloomy walks, or crowd together upon the wet gravel, without any other cover than the cope of Heaven, listening to a song, which one half of them cannot possibly hear, how can I help supposing they are actually possessed by a spirit, more absurd and pernicious than any thing we meet with in the precincts of Bedlam? In all probability, the proprietors of this, and other public gardens of inferior note, in the skirts of the metropolis, are, in some shape, connected with the faculty of physic, and the company of undertakers; for, considering that eagerness in the pursuit of what is called pleasure, which now predominates through every rank and denomination of life, I am persuaded that more gouts, rheumatisms, catarrhs, and consumptions are caught in these nocturnal pastimes, sub dio, than from all the risques and accidents to which a life of toil and danger is exposed. These, and other observations, which I have made in this excursion, will shorten my stay at London, and send me back with a double relish to my solitude and mountains; but I shall return by a different route from that which brought me to town. I have seen some old friends, who constantly resided in this virtuous metropolis, but they are so changed in manners and disposition, that we hardly know or care for one anotherIn our journey from Bath, my sister Tabby provoked me into a transport of passion; during which, like a man who has drank himself potvaliant, I talked to her in such a stile of authority and resolution, as produced a most blessed effect. She and her dog have been remarkably quiet and orderly ever since this expostulation. How long this agreeable calm will last, Heaven above knowsI flatter myself, the exercise of travelling has been of service to my health; a circumstance which encourages me toproceed in my projected expedition to the North. But I must, in the mean time, for the benefit and amusement of my pupils, explore the depths of this chaos; this misshapen and monstrous capital, without head or tail, members or proportion. Thomas was so insolent to my sister on the road, that I was obliged to turn him off abruptly, betwixt Chippenham and Marlborough, where our coach was overturned. The fellow was always sullen and selfish; but, if he should return to the country, you may give him a character for honesty and sobriety; and, provided he behaves with proper respect to the family, let him have a couple of guineas in the name of Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, May 20. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAR LETTY, Inexpressible was the pleasure I received from yours of the 25th, which was last night put into my hands by Mrs Brentford, the milliner, from GloucesterI rejoice to hear that my worthy governess is in good health, and, still more, that she no longer retains any displeasure towards her poor Liddy. I am sorry you have lost the society of the agreeable Miss Vaughn; but, I hope you won't have cause much longer to regret the departure of your school companions, as I make no doubt but your parents will, in a little time, bring you into the world, where you are so well qualified to make a distinguished figure. When that is the case, I flatter myself you and I shall meet again, and be happy together; and even improve the friendship which we contracted in our tender years. This at least I can promiseIt shall not be for the want of my utmost endeavours, if our intimacy does not continue for life. About five days ago we arrived in London, after an easy journey from Bath; during which, however, we were overturned, and met with some other little incidents, which, had like to have occasioned a misunderstanding betwixt my uncle and aunt; but now, thank God, they are happily reconciled: we live in harmony together, and every day make parties to see the wonders of this vast metropolis, which, however, I cannot pretend to describe; for I have not as yet seen one hundredth part of its curiosities, and I am quite in a maze of admiration. The cities of London and Westminster are spread out into an incredible extent. The streets, squares, rows, lanes, and alleys, are innumerable. Palaces, public buildings, and churches rise in every quarter; and, among these last, St Paul's appears with the most astonishing preeminence. They say it is not so large as, St Peter's at Rome; but, for my own part, I can have no idea of any earthly temple more grand and magnificent. But even these superb objects are not so striking as the crowds of people that swarm in the streets. I at first imagined that some great assembly was just dismissed, and wanted to stand aside till the multitude should pass; but this human tide continues to flow, without interruption or abatement, from morn till night. Then there is such an infinity of gay equipages, coaches, chariots, chaises, and other carriages, continually rolling and shifting before your eyes, that one's head grows giddy looking at them; and the imagination is quite confounded with splendour and variety. Nor is the prospect by water less grand and astonishing than that by land: you see three stupendous bridges, joining the opposite banks of a broad, deep, and rapid river; so vast, so stately, so elegant, that they seem to be the work of the giants; betwixt them, the whole surface of the Thames is covered with small vessels, barges, boats, and wherries, passing to and fro; and below the three bridges, such a prodigious forest of masts, for miles together, that you would think all the ships in the universe were here assembled. All that you read of wealth and grandeur in the Arabian Nights' Entertainment, and the Persian Tales, concerning Bagdad, Diarbekir, Damascus, Ispahan, and Samarkand, is here realized. Ranelagh looks like the inchanted palace of a genie, adorned with the most exquisite performances of painting, carving, and gilding, enlightened with a thousand golden lamps, that emulate the noonday sun; crowded with the great, the rich, the gay, the happy, and the fair; glittering with cloth of gold and silver, lace, embroidery, and precious stones. While these exulting sons and daughters of felicity tread this round of pleasure, or regale in different parties, and separate lodges, with fine imperial tea and other delicious refreshments, their ears are entertained with the most ravishing delights of music, both instrumental and vocal. There I heard the famous Tenducci, a thing from ItalyIt looks for all the world like a man, though they say it is not. The voice, to be sure, is neither man's nor woman's; but it is more melodious than either; and it warbled so divinely, that, while I listened, I really thought myself in paradise. At nine o'clock, in a charming moonlight evening, we embarked at Ranelagh for Vauxhall, in a wherry so light and slender that we looked like so many fairies sailing in a nutshell. My uncle, being apprehensive of catching cold upon the water, went round in the coach, and my aunt would have accompanied him, but he would not suffer me to go by water if she went by land; and therefore she favoured us with her company, as she perceived I had a curiosity to make this agreeable voyageAfter all, the vessel was sufficiently loaded; for, besides the waterman, there was my brother Jery, and a friend of his, one Mr Barton, a country gentleman, of a good fortune, who had dined at our houseThe pleasure of this little excursion was, however, damped, by my being sadly frighted at our landing; where there was a terrible confusion of wherries and a crowd of people bawling, and swearing, and quarrelling, nay, a parcel of uglylooking fellows came running into the water, and laid hold of our boat with great violence, to pull it ashore; nor would they quit their hold till my brother struck one of them over the head with his cane. But this flutter was fully recompensed by the pleasures of Vauxhall; which I no sooner entered, than I was dazzled and confounded with the variety of beauties that rushed all at once upon my eye. Image to yourself, my dear Letty, a spacious garden, part laid out in delightful walks, bounded with high hedges and trees, and paved with gravel; part exhibiting a wonderful assemblage of the most picturesque and striking objects' pavilions, lodges, groves, grottoes, lawns, temples and cascades; porticoes, colonades, and rotundos; adorned with pillars, statues, and painting: the whole illuminated with an infinite number of lamps, disposed in different figures of suns, stars, and constellations; the place crowded with the gayest company, ranging through those blissful shades, or supping in different lodges on cold collations, enlivened with mirth, freedom, and good humour, and animated by an excellent band of music. Among the vocal performers I had the happiness to hear the celebrated Mrs, whose voice was loud and shrill, that it made my head ake through excess of pleasure. In about half an hour after we arrived we were joined by my uncle, who did not seem to relish the place. People of experience and infirmity, my dear Letty, see with very different eyes from those that such as you and I make use ofOur evening's entertainment was interrupted by an unlucky accident. In one of the remotest walks we were surprised with a sudden shower, that set the whole company arunning, and drove us in heaps, one upon another, into the rotunda; where my uncle, finding himself wet, began to be very peevish and urgent to be gone. My brother went to look for the coach, and found it with much difficulty; but as it could not hold us all, Mr Barton stayed behind. It was some time before the carriage could be brought up to the gate, in the confusion, notwithstanding the utmost endeavours of our new footman, Humphry Clinker, who lost his scratch periwig, and got a broken head in the scuffle. The moment we were seated, my aunt pulled off my uncle's shoes, and carefully wrapped his poor feet in her capuchin; then she gave him a mouthful of cordial, which she always keeps in her pocket, and his clothes were shifted as soon as we arrived at lodgings; so that, blessed be God, he escaped a severe cold, of which he was in great terror. As for Mr Barton, I must tell you in confidence, he was a little particular; but, perhaps, I mistake his complaisance; and I wish I may, for his sakeYou know the condition of my poor heart: which, in spite of hard usageAnd yet I ought not to complain: nor will I, till farther information. Besides Ranelagh and Vauxhall, I have been at Mrs Cornelys' assembly, which, for the rooms, the company, the dresses, and decorations, surpasses all description; but as I have no great turn for card playing, I have not yet entered thoroughly into the spirit of the place: indeed I am still such a country hoyden, that I could hardly find patience to be put in a condition to appear, yet, as I was not above six hours under the hands of the hairdresser, who stuffed my head with as much black wool as would have made a quilted petticoat; and, after all, it was the smallest head in the assembly, except my aunt'sShe, to be sure, was so particular with her rumpt gown and petticoat, her scanty curls, her lappethead, deep triple ruffles, and high stays, that every body looked at her with surprise: some whispered, and some tittered; and lady Griskin, by whom we were introduced, flatly told her, she was twenty good years behind the fashion. Lady Griskin is a person of fashion, to whom we have the honour to be related. She keeps a small rout at her own house, never exceeding ten or a dozen cardtables, but these are frequented by the best company in townShe has been so obliging as to introduce my aunt and me to some of her particular friends of quality, who treat us with the most familiar goodhumour: we have once dined with her, and she takes the trouble to direct us in all our motions. I am so happy as to have gained her goodwill to such a degree, that she sometimes adjusts my cap with her own hands; and she has given me a kind invitation to stay with her all the winter. This, however, has been cruelly declined by my uncle who seems to be (I know not how) prejudiced against the good lady; for, whenever my aunt happens to speak in her commendation, I observe that he makes wry faces, though he says nothingPerhaps, indeed, these grimaces may be the effect of pain arising from the gout and rheumatism, with which he is sadly distressedTo me, however, he is always goodnatured and generous, even beyond my wish. Since we came hither, he has made me a present of a suit of clothes, with trimmings and laces, which cost more money than I shall mention; and Jery, at his desire, has given me my mother's diamond crops, which are ordered to be set anew; so that it won't be his fault if I do not glitter among the stars of the fourth or fifth magnitude. I wish my weak head may not grow giddy in the midst of all this gallantry and dissipation; though, as yet, I can safely declare, I could gladly give up all these tumultuous pleasures, for country solitude, and a happy retreat with those we love; among whom, my dear Willis will always possess the first place in the breast of her Ever affectionate, LYDIA MELFORD LONDON, May 31. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, I send you this letter, franked by our old friend Barton; who is as much altered as it was possible for a man of his kidney to be. Instead of the careless, indolent sloven we knew at Oxford, I found him a busy talkative politician; a petitmaitre in his dress, and a ceremonious courtier in his manners. He has not gall enough in his constitution to be enflamed with the rancour of party, so as to deal in scurrilous invectives; but, since he obtained a place, he is become a warm partizan of the ministry, and sees every thing through such an exaggerating medium, as to me, who am happily of no party, is altogether incomprehensibleWithout all doubt, the fumes of faction not only disturb the faculty of reason, but also pervert the organs of sense; and I would lay a hundred guineas to ten, that if Barton on one side, and the most conscientious patriot in the opposition on the other, were to draw, upon honour, the picture of the king or ministers, you and I, who are still uninfected, and unbiased, would find both painters equally distant from the truth. One thing, however, must be allowed for the honour of Barton, he never breaks out into illiberal abuse, far less endeavours, by infamous calumnies, to blast the moral character of any individual on the other side. Ever since we came hither, he has been remarkably assiduous in his attention to our family; an attention, which, in a man of his indolence and avocations, I should have thought altogether odd, and even unnatural, had not I perceived that my sister Liddy had made some impression upon his heart. I cannot say that I have any objection to his trying his fortune in this pursuit: if an opulent estate and a great flock of goodnature are sufficient qualifications in a husband, to render the marriagestate happy for life, she may be happy with Barton; but, I imagine, there is something else required to engage and secure the affection of a woman of sense and delicacy: something which nature has denied our friendLiddy seems to be of the same opinion. When he addresses himself to her in discourse, she seems to listen with reluctance, and industriously avoids all particular communication; but in proportion to her coyness, our aunt is coming. Mrs Tabitha goes more than half way to meet his advances; she mistakes, or affects to mistake, the meaning of his courtesy, which is rather formal and fulsome; she returns his compliments with hyperbolical interest, she persecutes him with her civilities at table, she appeals to him for ever in conversation, she sighs, and flirts, and ogles, and by her hideous affectation and impertinence, drives the poor courtier to the very extremity of his complaisance; in short, she seems to have undertaken the siege of Barton's heart, and carries on her approaches in such a desperate manner, that I don't know whether he will not be obliged to capitulate. In the mean time, his aversion to this inamorata struggling with his acquired affability, and his natural fear of giving offence, throws him into a kind of distress which is extremely ridiculous. Two days ago, he persuaded my uncle and me to accompany him to St James's, where he undertook to make us acquainted with the persons of all the great men in the kingdom; and, indeed, there was a great assemblage of distinguished characters, for it was a high festival at court. Our conductor performed his promise with great punctuality. He pointed out almost every individual of both sexes, and generally introduced them to our notice, with a flourish of panegyrickSeeing the king approach, 'There comes (said he) the most amiable sovereign that ever swayed the sceptre of England: the delicioe humani generis; Augustus, in patronizing merit; Titus Vespasian in generosity; Trajan in beneficence; and Marcus Aurelius in philosophy.' 'A very honest kind hearted gentleman (added my uncle) he's too good for the times. A king of England should have a spice of the devil in his composition.' Barton, then turning to the duke of Cumberland, proceeded,'You know the duke, that illustrious hero, who trode rebellion under his feet, and secured us in possession of every thing we ought to hold dear, as English men and Christians. Mark what an eye, how penetrating, yet pacific! what dignity in his mien! what humanity in his aspectEven malice must own, that he is one of the greatest officers in Christendom.' 'I think he is (said Mr Bramble) but who are these young gentlemen that stand beside him?' 'Those! (cried our friend) those are his royal nephews; the princes of the blood. Sweet young princes! the sacred pledges of the Protestant line; so spirited, so sensible, so princely''Yes; very sensible! very spirited! (said my uncle, interrupting him) but see the queen! ha, there's the queen!There's the queen! let me seeLet me seeWhere are my glasses? ha! there's meaning in that eyeThere's sentimentThere's expressionWell, Mr Barton, what figure do you call next?' The next person he pointed out, was the favourite yearl; who stood solitary by one of the windows'Behold yon northern star (said he) shorn of his beams''What! the Caledonian luminary, that lately blazed so bright in our hemisphere! methinks, at present, it glimmers through a fog; like Saturn without his ring, bleak, and dim, and distantHa, there's the other great phenomenon, the grand pensionary, that weathercock of patriotism that veers about in every point of the political compass, and still feels the wind of popularity in his tail. He too, like a portentous comet, has risen again above the courthorizon; but how long he will continue to ascend, it is not easy to foretell, considering his great eccentricityWho are those two satellites that attend his motions?' When Barton told him their names, 'To their characters (said Mr Bramble) I am no stranger. One of them, without a drop of red blood in his veins, has a cold intoxicating vapour in his head; and rancour enough in his heart to inoculate and affect a whole nation. The other is (I hear) intended for a share in the administration, and the pensionary vouches for his being duly qualifiedThe only instance I ever heard of his sagacity, was his deserting his former patron, when he found him declining in power, and in disgrace with the people. Without principle, talent, or intelligence, he is ungracious as a hog, greedy as a vulture, and thievish as a jackdaw; but, it must be owned, he is no hypocrite. He pretends to no virtue, and takes no pains to disguise his characterHis ministry will be attended with one advantage, no man will be disappointed by his breach of promise, as no mortal ever trusted to his word. I wonder how lordfirst discovered this happy genius, and for what purpose lordhas now adopted him: but one would think, that as amber has a power to attract dirt, and straws, and chaff, a minister is endued with the same kind of faculty, to lick up every knave and blockhead in his way'His eulogium was interrupted by the arrival of the old duke of N; who, squeezing into the circle with a busy face of importance, thrust his head into every countenance, as if he had been in search of somebody, to whom he wanted to impart something of great consequenceMy uncle, who had been formerly known to him, bowed as he passed; and the duke seeing himself saluted so respectfully by a welldressed person, was not slow in returning the courtesyHe even came up, and, taking him cordially by the hand, 'My dear friend, Mr A (said he) I am rejoiced to see you How long have you been come from abroad?How did you leave our good friends the Dutch? The king of Prussia don't think of another war, ah?He's a great king! a great conqueror! a very great conqueror! Your Alexanders and Hannibals were nothing, at all to him, sirCorporals! drummers! dross! mere trashDamned trash, heh?'His grace being by this time out of breath, my uncle took the opportunity to tell him he had not been out of England, that his name was Bramble, and that he had the honour to sit in the last parliament but one of the late king, as representative for the borough of Dymkymraig. 'Odso! (cried the duke) I remember you perfectly well, my dear Mr BrambleYou was always a good and loyal subjecta stanch friend to administrationI made your brother an Irish bishop''Pardon me, my lord (said the squire) I once had a brother, but he was a captain in the army''Ha! (said his grace) he was soHe was, indeed! But who was the Bishop then! Bishop BlackberrySure it was bishop Blackberry. Perhaps some relation of yours''Very likely, my lord (replied my uncle); the Blackberry is the fruit of the BrambleBut, I believe, the bishop is not a berry of our bush''No more he isNo more he is, ha, ha, ha! (exclaimed the duke) there you gave me a scratch, good Mr Bramble, ha, ha, ha!Well, I shall be glad to see you at Lincoln's innfieldsYou know the wayTimes are altered. Though I have lost the power, I retain the inclinationYour very humble servant, good Mr Blackberry'So saying, he shoved to another corner of the room. 'What a fine old gentleman! (cried Mr Barton) what spirits! what a memory! He never forgets an old friend.' 'He does me too much honour (observed our squire) to rank me among the numberWhilst I sat in parliament, I never voted with the ministry but three times, when my conscience told me they were in the right: however, if he still keeps levee, I will carry my nephew thither, that he may see, and learn to avoid the scene; for, I think, an English gentleman never appears to such disadvantage, as at the levee of a ministerOf his grace I shall say nothing at present, but that for thirty years he was the constant and common butt of ridicule and execration. He was generally laughed at as an ape in politics, whose office and influence served only to render his folly the more notorious; and the opposition cursed him, as the indefatigable drudge of a firstmover, who was justly stiled and stigmatized as the father of corruption: but this ridiculous ape, this venal drudge, no sooner lost the places he was so ill qualified to fill, and unfurled the banners of faction, than he was metamorphosed into a pattern of public virtue; the very people who reviled him before, now extolled him to the skies, as a wise, experienced statesman, chief pillar of the Protestant succession, and corner stone of English liberty. I should be glad to know how Mr Barton reconciles these contradictions, without obliging us to resign all title to the privilege of common sense.' 'My dear sir (answered Barton) I don't pretend to justify the extravagations of the multitude; who, I suppose, were as wild in their former censure, as in the present praise: but I shall be very glad to attend you on Thursday next to his grace's levee; where, I'm afraid, we shall not be crowded with company; for, you know, there's a wide difference between his present office of president of the council, and his former post of first lord commissioner of the treasury.' This communicative friend having announced all the remarkable characters of both sexes, that appeared at court, we resolved to adjourn, and retired. At the foot of the staircase, there was a crowd of lacqueys and chairmen, and in the midst of them stood Humphry Clinker, exalted upon a stool, with his hat in one hand, and a paper in the other, in the act of holding forth to the peopleBefore we could inquire into the meaning of this exhibition, he perceived his master, thrust the paper into his pocket, descended from his elevation, bolted through the crowd, and brought up the carriage to the gate. My uncle said nothing till we were seated, when, after having looked at me earnestly for some time, he burst out alaughing, and asked if I knew upon what subject Clinker was holding forth to the mob'If (said he) the fellow is turned mountebank, I must turn him out of my service, otherwise he'll make Merry Andrews of us all'I observed, that, in all probability, he had studied medicine under his master, who was a farrier. At dinner, the squire asked him, if he had ever practised physic? 'Yes, and please your honour (said he) among brute beasts; but I never meddle with rational creatures.' 'I know not whether you rank in that class the audience you was haranguing in the court at St. James's, but I should be glad to know what kind of powders you was distributing; and whether you had a good sale''Sale, sir! (cried Clinker) I hope I shall never be base enough to sell for gold and silver, what freely comes of God's grace. I distributed nothing, an like your honour, but a word of advice to my fellows in servitude and sin.' 'Advice! concerning what?' 'Concerning profane swearing, an please your honour; so horrid and shocking, that it made my hair stand on end.' 'Nay, if thou can'st cure them Of that disease, I shall think thee a wonderful doctor indeed' 'Why not cure them, my good master? the hearts of those poor people are not so stubborn as your honour seems to thinkMake them first sensible that you have nothing in view but their good, then they will listen with patience, and easily be convinced of the sin and folly of a practice that affords neither profit nor pleasureAt this remark, our uncle changed colour, and looked round the company, conscious that his own withers were not altogether unwrung. 'But, Clinker (said he) if you should have eloquence enough to persuade the vulgar to resign those tropes and figures of rhetoric, there will be little or nothing left to distinguish their conversation from that of their betters.' 'But then your honour knows, their conversation will be void of offence; and, at the day of judgment, there will be no distinction of persons.' Humphry going down stairs to fetch up a bottle of wine, my uncle congratulated his sister upon having such a reformer in the family; when Mrs Tabitha declared, he was a sober civilized fellow; very respectful, and very industrious; and, she believed, a good Christian into the bargain. One would think, Clinker must really have some very extraordinary talent, to ingratiate himself in this manner with a virago of her character, so fortified against him with prejudice and resentment; but the truth is, since the adventure of Salthill, Mrs Tabby seems to be entirely changed. She has left off scolding the servants, an exercise which was grown habitual, and even seemed necessary to her constitution; and is become so indifferent to Chowder, as to part with him in a present to lady Griskin, who proposes to bring the breed of him into fashion. Her ladyship is the widow of Sir Timothy Griskin, a distant relation of our family. She enjoys a jointure of five hundred pounds ayear, and makes shift to spend three times that sum. Her character before marriage was a little equivocal; but at present she lives in the bon ton, keeps cardtables, gives private suppers to select friends, and is visited by persons of the first fashionShe has been remarkably civil to us all, and cultivates my uncle with the most particular regard; but the more she strokes him, the more his bristles seem to riseTo her compliments he makes very laconic and dry returnsT'other day she sent us a pottle of fine strawberries, which he did not receive without signs of disgust, muttering from the Aeneid, timeo Danaos et Dona ferentes. She has twice called for Liddy, of a forenoon, to take an airing in the coach; but Mrs Tabby was always so alert (I suppose by his direction) that she never could have the niece without her aunt's company. I have endeavoured to sound Squaretoes on this subject; but he carefully avoids all explanation. I have now, dear Phillips, filled a whole sheet, and if you have read it to an end, I dare say, you are as tired as Your humble servant, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 2. To Dr LEWIS. Yes, Doctor, I have seen the British Museum; which is a noble collection, and even stupendous, if we consider it was made by a private man, a physician, who was obliged to make his own for tune at the same time: but great as the collection is, it would appear more striking if it was arranged in one spacious saloon, instead of being divided into different apartments, which it does not entirely fillI could wish the series of medals was connected, and the whole of the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms completed, by adding to each, at the public expence, those articles that are wanting. It would likewise be a great improvement, with respect to the library, if the deficiencies were made up, by purchasing all the books of character that are not to be found already in the collectionThey might be classed in centuries, according to the dates of their publication, and catalogues printed of them and the manuscripts, for the information of those that want to consult, or compile from such authorities. I could also wish, for the honour of the nation, that there was a complete apparatus for a course of mathematics, mechanics, and experimental philosophy; and a good salary settled upon an able professor, who should give regular lectures on these subjects. But this is all idle speculation, which will never be reduced to practiceConsidering the temper of the times, it is a wonder to see any institution whatsoever established for the benefit of the Public. The spirit of party is risen to a kind of phrenzy, unknown to former ages, or rather degenerated to a total extinction of honesty and candourYou know I have observed, for some time, that the public papers are become the infamous vehicles of the most cruel and perfidious defamation: every rancorous knave every desperate incendiary, that can afford to spend half a crown or three shillings, may skulk behind the press of a newsmonger, and have a stab at the first character in the kingdom, without running the least hazard of detection or punishment. I have made acquaintance with a Mr Barton, whom Jery knew at Oxford; a good sort of a man, though most ridiculously warped in his political principles; but his partiality is the less offensive, as it never appears in the stile of scurrility and abuse. He is a member of parliament, and a retainer to the court; and his whole conversation turns upon the virtues and perfections of the ministers, who are his patrons. T'other day, when he was bedaubing one of those worthies, with the most fulsome praise, I told him I had seen the same nobleman characterised very differently, in one of the dailypapers; indeed, so stigmatized, that if one half of what was said of him was true, he must be not only unfit to rule, but even unfit to live: that those impeachments had been repeated again and again, with the addition of fresh matter; and that as he had taken no steps towards his own vindication, I began to think there was some foundation for the charge. 'And pray, Sir (said Mr Barton), what steps would you have him take? Suppose he should prosecute the publisher, who screens the anonymous accuser, and bring him to the pillory for a libel; this is so far from being counted a punishment, in terrorem, that it will probably make his fortune. The multitude immediately take him into their protection, as a martyr to the cause of defamation, which they have always espoused. They pay his fine, they contribute to the increase of his stock, his shop is crowded with customers, and the sale of his paper rises in proportion to the scandal it contains. All this time the prosecutor is inveighed against as a tyrant and oppressor, for having chosen to proceed by the way of information, which is deemed a grievance; but if he lays an action for damages, he must prove the damage, and I leave you to judge, whether a gentleman's character may not be brought into contempt, and all his views in life blasted by calumny, without his being able to specify the particulars of the damage he has sustained. 'This spirit of defamation is a kind of heresy, that thrives under persecution. The liberty of the press is a term of great efficacy; and like that of the Protestant religion, has often served the purposes of seditionA minister, therefore, must arm himself with patience, and bear those attacks without repiningWhatever mischief they may do in other respects, they certainly contribute, in one particular, to the advantages of government; for those defamatory articles have multiplied papers in such a manner, and augmented their sale to such a degree, that the duty upon stamps and advertisements has made a very considerable addition to the revenue.' Certain it is, a gentleman's honour is a very delicate subject to be handled by a jury, composed of men, who cannot be supposed remarkable either for sentiment or impartialityIn such a case, indeed, the defendant is tried, not only by his peers, but also by his party; and I really think, that of all patriots, he is the most resolute who exposes himself to such detraction, for the sake of his countryIf, from the ignorance or partiality of juries, a gentleman can have no redress from law, for being defamed in a pamphlet or newspaper, I know but one other method of proceeding against the publisher, which is attended with some risque, but has been practised successfully, more than once, in my remembranceA regiment of horse was represented, in one of the newspapers, as having misbehaved at Dettingen; a captain of that regiment broke the publisher's bones, telling him, at the same time, if he went to law, he should certainly have the like salutation from every officer of the corps. Governortook the same satisfaction on the ribs of an author, who traduced him by name in a periodical paperI know a low fellow of the same class, who, being turned out of Venice for his impudence and scurrility, retired to Lugano, a town of the Grisons (a free people, God wot) where he found a printing press, from whence he squirted his filth at some respectable characters in the republic, which he had been obliged to abandon. Some of these, finding him out of the reach of legal chastisement, employed certain useful instruments, such as may be found in all countries, to give him the bastinado; which, being repeated more than once, effectually stopt the current of his abuse. As for the liberty of the press, like every other privilege, it must be restrained within certain bounds; for if it is carried to a branch of law, religion, and charity, it becomes one of the greatest evils that ever annoyed the community. If the lowest ruffian may stab your good name with impunity in England, will you be so uncandid as to exclaim against Italy for the practice of common assassination? To what purpose is our property secured, if our moral character is left defenceless? People thus baited, grow desperate; and the despair of being able to preserve one's character, untainted by such vermin, produces a total neglect of fame; so that one of the chief incitements to the practice of virtue is effectually destroyed. Mr Barton's last consideration, respecting the stampduty, is equally wise and laudable with another maxim which has been long adopted by our financiers, namely, to connive at drunkenness, riot, and dissipation, because they inhance the receipt of the excise; not reflecting, that in providing this temporary convenience, they are destroying the morals, health, and industry of the peopleNotwithstanding my contempt for those who flatter a minister, I think there is something still more despicable in flattering a mob. When I see a man of birth, education, and fortune, put himself on a level with the dregs of the people, mingle with low mechanics, feed with them at the same board, and drink with them in the same cup, flatter their prejudices, harangue in praise of their virtues, expose themselves to the belchings of their beer, the fumes of their tobacco, the grossness of their familiarity, and the impertinence of their conversation, I cannot help despising him, as a man guilty of the vilest prostitution, in order to effect a purpose equally selfish and illiberal. I should renounce politics the more willingly, if I could find other topics of conversation discussed with more modesty and candour; but the daemon of party seems to have usurped every department of life. Even the world of literature and taste is divided into the most virulent factions, which revile, decry, and traduce the works of one another. Yesterday, I went to return an afternoon's visit to a gentleman of my acquaintance, at whose house I found one of the authors of the present age, who has written with some successAs I had read one or two of his performances, which gave me pleasure, I was glad of this opportunity to know his person; but his discourse and deportment destroyed all the impressions which his writings had made in his favour. He took upon him to decide dogmatically upon every subject, without deigning to shew the least cause for his differing from the general opinions of mankind, as if it had been our duty to acquiesce in the ipse dixit of this new Pythagoras. He rejudged the characters of all the principal authors, who had died within a century of the present time; and, in this revision, paid no sort of regard to the reputation they had acquiredMilton was harsh and prosaic; Dryden, languid and verbose; Butler and Swift without humour; Congreve, without wit; and Pope destitute of any sort of poetical meritAs for his contemporaries, he could not bear to hear one of them mentioned with any degree of applauseThey were all dunces, pedants, plagiaries, quacks, and impostors; and you could not name a single performance, but what was tame, stupid, and insipid. It must be owned, that this writer had nothing to charge his conscience with, on the side of flattery; for I understand, he was never known to praise one line that was written, even by those with whom he lived on terms of good fellowship. This arrogance and presumption, in depreciating authors, for whose reputation the company may be interested, is such an insult upon the understanding, as I could not bear without wincing. I desired to know his reasons for decrying some works, which had afforded me uncommon pleasure; and, as demonstration did not seem to be his talent, I dissented from his opinion with great freedom. Having been spoiled by the deference and humility of his hearers, he did not bear contradiction with much temper; and the dispute might have grown warm, had it not been interrupted by the entrance of a rival bard, at whose appearance he always quits the placeThey are of different cabals, and have been at open war these twenty yearsIf the other was dogmatical, this genius was declamatory: he did not discourse, but harangue; and his orations were equally tedious and turgid. He too pronounces ex cathedra upon the characters of his contemporaries; and though he scruples not to deal out praise, even lavishly, to the lowest reptile in Grubstreet who will either flatter him in private, or mount the public rostrum as his panegyrist, he damns all the other writers of the age, with the utmost insolence and rancourOne is a blunderbuss, as being a native of Ireland; another, a halfstarved louse of literature, from the banks of the Tweed; a third, an ass, because he enjoys a pension from the government; a fourth, the very angel of dulness, because he succeeded in a species of writing in which this Aristarchus had failed; a fifth, who presumed to make strictures upon one of his performances, he holds as a bug in criticism, whose stench is more offensive than his stingIn short, except himself and his myrmidons, there is not a man of genius or learning in the three kingdoms. As for the success of those, who have written without the pale of this confederacy, he imputes it entirely to want of taste in the public; not considering, that to the approbation of that very tasteless public, he himself owes all the consequence he has in life. Those originals are not fit for conversation. If they would maintain the advantage they have gained by their writing, they should never appear but upon paperFor my part, I am shocked to find a man have sublime ideas in his head, and nothing but illiberal sentiments in his heartThe human soul will be generally found most defective in the article of candourI am inclined to think, no mind was ever wholly exempt from envy; which, perhaps, may have been implanted, as an instinct essential to our nature. I am afraid we sometimes palliate this vice, under the spacious name of emulation. I have known a person remarkably generous, humane, moderate, and apparently selfdenying, who could not hear even a friend commended, without betraying marks of uneasiness; as if that commendation had implied an odious comparison to his prejudice, and every wreath of praise added to the other's character, was a garland plucked from his own temples. This is a malignant species of jealousy, of which I stand acquitted in my own conscience. Whether it is a vice, or an infirmity, I leave you to inquire. There is another point, which I would much rather see determined; whether the world was always as contemptible, as it appears to me at present?If the morals of mankind have not contracted an extraordinary degree of depravity, within these thirty years, then must I be infected with the common vice of old men, difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti; or, which is more probable, the impetuous pursuits and avocations of youth have formerly hindered me from observing those rotten parts of human nature, which now appear so offensively to my observation. We have been at court, and 'change, and every where; and every where we find food for spleen, and subject for ridiculeMy new servant, Humphry Clinker, turns out a great original: and Tabby is a changed creatureShe has parted with Chowder; and does nothing but smile, like Malvolio in the playI'll be hanged if she is not acting a part which is not natural to her disposition, for some purpose which I have not yet discovered. With respect to the characters of mankind, my curiosity is quite satisfied: I have done with the science of men, and must now endeavour to amuse myself with the novelty of things. I am, at present, by a violent effort of the mind, forced from my natural bias; but this power ceasing to act, I shall return to my solitude with redoubled velocity. Every thing I see, and hear, and feel, in this great reservoir of folly, knavery, and sophistication, contributes to inhance the value of a country life, in the sentiments of Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 2. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MARY JONES, Lady Griskin's botler, Mr Crumb, having got 'squire Barton to frank me a kiver, I would not neglect to let you know how it is with me, and the rest of the family. I could not rite by John Thomas, for because he went away in a huff, at a minutes' warning. He and Chowder could not agree, and so they fitt upon the road, and Chowder bitt his thumb, and he swore he would do him a mischief, and he spoke saucy to mistress, whereby the squire turned him off in gudgeon; and by God's providence we picked up another footman, called Umphry Klinker; a good sole as ever broke bread; which shews that a scalded cat may prove a good mouser, and a hound be staunch, thof he has got narro hare on his buttocks; but the proudest nose may be bro't to the grinestone, by sickness and misfortunes. 0 Molly! what shall I say of London? All the towns that ever I beheld in my borndays, are no more than Welsh barrows and crumlecks to this wonderful sitty! Even Bath itself is but a fillitch, in the naam of GodOne would think there's no end of the streets, but the land's end. Then there's such a power of people, going hurry skurry! Such a racket of coxes! Such a noise, and haliballoo! So many strange sites to be seen! O gracious! my poor Welsh brain has been spinning like a top ever since I came hither! And I have seen the Park, and the paleass of Saint Gimses, and the king's and the queen's magisterial pursing, and the sweet young princes, and the hillyfents, and pye bald ass, and all the rest of the royal family. Last week I went with mistress to the Tower, to see the crowns and wild beastis; and there was a monstracious lion, with teeth half a quarter long; and a gentleman bid me not go near him, if I wasn't a maid; being as how he would roar, and tear, and play the dickensNow I had no mind to go near him; for I cannot abide such dangerous honeymils, not Ibut, mistress would go; and the beast kept such a roaring and bouncing, that I tho't he would have broke his cage and devoured us all; and the gentleman tittered forsooth; but I'll go to death upon it, I will, that my lady is as good a firchin, as the child unborn; and, therefore, either the gentleman told a fib, or the lion oft to be set in the stocks for bearing false witness agin his neighbour; for the commandment sayeth, Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. I was afterwards of a party at Sadler'swells, where I saw such tumbling and dancing upon ropes and wires, that I was frightened and ready to go into a fitI tho't it was all inchantment; and, believing myself bewitched, began for to cryYou knows as how the witches in Wales fly upon broomsticks: but here was flying without any broomstick, or thing in the varsal world, and firing of pistols in the air, and blowing of trumpets, and swinging, and rolling of wheelbarrows upon a wire (God bless us!) no thicker than a sewingthread; that, to be sure, they must deal with the devil!A fine gentleman, with a pig'stail, and a golden sord by his side, come to comfit me, and offered for to treat me with a pint of wind; but I would not stay; and so, in going through the dark passage, he began to shew his cloven futt, and went for to be rude: my fellowsarvant, Umphry Klinker, bid him be sivil, and he gave the young man a dowse in the chops; but, I fackins, Mr Klinker wa'n't long in his debtwith a good oaken sapling he dusted his doublet, for all his golden cheese toaster; and, fipping me under his arm, carried me huom, I nose not how, being I was in such a flustrationBut, thank God! I'm now vaned from all such vanities; for what are all those rarities and vagaries to the glory that shall be revealed hereafter? O Molly! let not your poor heart be puffed up with vanity. I had almost forgot to tell you, that I have had my hair cut and pippered, and singed, and bolstered, and buckled, in the newest fashion, by a French freezerParley vow FranceyVee madmansellI now carries my head higher than arrow private gentlewoman of Vales. Last night, coming huom from the meeting, I was taken by lamplight for an iminent poulterer's daughter, a great beautyBut as I was saying, this is all vanity and vexation of spiritThe pleasures of London are no better than sower whey and stale cyder, when compared to the joys of the new Gerusalem. Dear Mary Jones! An please God when I return, I'll bring you a new cap, with a turkeyshell coom, and a pyehouse sermon, that was preached in the Tabernacle; and I pray of all love, you will mind your vriting and your spilling; for, craving your pardon, Molly, it made me suet to disseyffer your last scrabble, which was delivered by the hind at Bath0, voman! voman! if thou had'st but the least consumption of what pleasure we scullers have, when we can cunster the crabbidst buck off hand, and spell the ethnitch vords without lucking at the primmer. As for Mr Klinker, he is qualified to be a clerk to a parishBut I'll say no moreRemember me to Saulpoor sole! it goes to my hart to think she don't yet know her lettersBut all in God's good timeIt shall go hard, but I will bring her the A B C in gingerbread; and that, you nose, will be learning to her taste. Mistress says, we are going a long gurney to the North; but go where we will, I shall ever be, Dear Mary Jones, Yours with true infection WIN. JENKINS LONDON, June 3. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WAT, I mentioned in my last, my uncle's design of going to the duke of N's levee; which design has been executed accordingly. His grace has been so long accustomed to this kind of homage, that though the place he now fills does not imply the tenth part of the influence, which he exerted in his former office, he has given his friends to understand, that they cannot oblige him in any thing more, than in contributing to support the shadow of that power, which he no longer retains in substance; and therefore he has still public days, on which they appear at his levee. My uncle and I went thither with Mr Barton, who, being one of the duke's adherents, undertook to be our introducerThe room was pretty well filled with people, in a great variety of dress; but there was no more than one gown and cassock, though I was told his grace had, while he was minister, preferred almost every individual that now filled the bench of bishops in the house of lords; but in all probability, the gratitude of the clergy is like their charity, which shuns the lightMr Barton was immediately accosted by a person well stricken in years, tall, and rawboned, with a hooknose, and an arch leer, that indicated, at least, as much cunning as sagacity. Our conductor saluted him, by the name of captain C, and afterwards informed us he was a man of shrewd parts, whom the government occasionally employed in secret services. But I have had the history of him more at large, from another quarter. He had been, many years ago, concerned in fraudulent practices, as a merchant, in France; and being convicted of some of them, was sent to the gallies, from whence he was delivered by the interest of the late duke of Ormond, to whom he had recommended himself in letter, as his namesake and relationHe was in the sequel, employed by our ministry as a spy; and in the war of 1740, traversed all Spain, as well as France, in the disguise of a capuchin, at the extreme hazard of his life, in as much as the court of Madrid had actually got scent of him, and given orders to apprehend him at St Sebastian's, from whence he had fortunately retired but a few hours before the order arrived. This and other hairbreadth 'scapes he pleaded so effectually as a merit with the English ministry, that they allowed him a comfortable pension, which he now enjoys in his old ageHe has still access to all the ministers, and is said to be consulted by them on many subjects, as a man of uncommon understanding and great experienceHe is, in fact, a fellow of some parts, and invincible assurance; and, in his discourse, he assumes such an air of selfsufficiency, as may very well impose upon some of the shallow politicians, who now labour at the helm of administration. But, if he is not belied, this is not the only imposture of which he is guiltyThey say, he is at bottom not only a Romancatholic, but really a priest; and while he pretends to disclose to our statepilots all the springs that move the cabinet of Versailles, he is actually picking up intelligence for the service of the French minister. Be that as it may, captain C entered into conversation with us in the most familiar manner, and treated the duke's character without any ceremony'This wiseacre (said he) is still abed; and, I think, the best thing he can do, is to sleep on till Christmas; for, when he gets up, he does nothing but expose his own folly.Since Grenville was turned out, there has been no minister in this nation worth the meal that whitened his periwigThey are so ignorant, they scarce know a crab from a cauliflower; and then they are such dunces, that there's no making them comprehend the plainest propositionIn the beginning of the war, this poor halfwitted creature told me, in a great fright, that thirty thousand French had marched from Acadie to Cape Breton\"Where did they find transports? (said I)\" \"Transports (cried he) I tell you they marched by land\"\"By land to the island of Cape Breton?\" \"What! is Cape Breton an island?\" \"Certainly.\" \"Ha! are you sure of that?\" When I pointed it out in the map, he examined it earnestly with his spectacles; then, taking me in his arms, \"My dear C! (cried he) you always bring us good newsEgad! I'll go directly, and tell the king that Cape Breton is an island.\"' He seemed disposed to entertain us with more anecdotes of this nature, at the expense of his grace, when he was interrupted by the arrival of the Algerine ambassador; a venerable Turk, with a long white beard, attended by his dragoman, or interpreter, and another officer of his household, who had got no stockings to his legsCaptain C immediately spoke with an air of authority to a servant in waiting, bidding him go and tell the duke to rise, as there was a great deal of company come, and, among others, the ambassador from Algiers. Then, turning to us, 'This poor Turk (said he) notwithstanding his grey beard, is a greenhornHe has been several years resident in London, and still is ignorant of our political revolutions. This visit is intended for the prime minister of England; but you'll see how this wise duke will receive it as a mark of attachment to his own person'Certain it is, the duke seemed eager to acknowledge the complimentA door opened, he suddenly bolted out; with a shavingcloth under his chin, his face frothed up to the eyes with soap lather; and running up to the ambassador, grinned hideous in his face'My dear Mahomet! (said he) God love your long beard, I hope the dey will make you a horsetail at the next promotion, ha, ha, ha! Have but a moment's patience, and I'll send to you in a twinkling,'So saying, he retired into his den, leaving the Turk in some confusion. After a short pause, however, he said something to his interpreter, the meaning of which I had great curiosity to know, as he turned up his eyes while he spoke, expressing astonishment, mixed with devotion. We were gratified by means of the communicative captain C, who conversed with the dragoman, as an old acquaintance. Ibrahim, the ambassador, who had mistaken his grace for the minister's fool, was no sooner undeceived by the interpreter, than he exclaimed to this effect 'Holy prophet! I don't wonder that this nation prospers, seeing it is governed by the counsel of ideots; a series of men, whom all good mussulmen revere as the organs of immediate inspiration!' Ibrahim was favoured with a particular audience of short duration; after which the duke conducted him to the door, and then returned to diffuse his gracious looks among the crowd of his worshippers. As Mr Barton advanced to present me to his grace, it was my fortune to attract his notice, before I was announcedHe forthwith met me more than half way, and, seizing me by the hand, 'My dear Sir Francis! (cried he) this is so kindI vow to God! I am so obligedSuch attention to a poor broken minister. WellPray when does your excellency set sail?For God's sake have a care of your health, and cat stewed prunes in the passage. Next to your own precious health, pray, my dear excellency, take care of the Five NationsOur good friends the Five Nations. The Toryrories, the Maccolmacks, the Outo'theways, the Crickets, and the KickshawsLet 'em have plenty of blankets, and stinkubus, and wampum; and your excellency won't fail to scour the kettle, and boil the chain, and bury the tree, and plant the hatchetHa, ha, ha!' When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual precipitation, Mr Barton gave him to understand, that I was neither Sir Francis, nor St Francis, but simply Mr Melford, nephew to Mr Bramble; who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time. 'Odso! no more it is Sir Francis(said this wise statesman) Mr Melford, I'm glad to see youI sent you an engineer to fortify your dockMr Brambleyour servant, Mr BrambleHow d'ye, good Mr Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young fellowFaith and troth, a very pretty fellow!His father is my old friendHow does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned disorder, ha?' 'No, my lord (replied my uncle), all his troubles are overHe has been dead these fifteen years.' 'Dead! howYes faith! now I remember: he is dead sure enoughWell, and howdoes the young gentleman stand for Haverford West? ora what d'ye. My dear Mr Milfordhaven, I'll do you all the service in my power I hope I have some credit left'My uncle then gave him to understand, that I was still a minor; and that we had no intention to trouble him at present, for any favour whatsoever'I came hither with my nephew (added he) to pay our respects to your grace; and I may venture to say, that his views and mine are at least as disinterested as those of any individual in this assembly.' 'My dear Mr Brambleberry! you do me infinite honourI shall always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr MilfordhavenMy credit, such as it is, you may commandI wish we had more friends of your kidney.' Then, turning to captain C, 'Ha, C! (said he) what news, C? How does the world wag? ha!' 'The world wags much after the old fashion, my lord (answered the captain): the politicians of London and Westminster have begun again to wag their tongues against your grace; and your shortlived popularity wags like a feather, which the next puff of antiministerial calumny will blow away''A pack of rascals (cried the duke)Tories, Jacobites, rebels; one half of them would wag their heels at Tyburn, if they had their deserts'So saying, he wheeled about; and going round the levee, spoke to every individual, with the most courteous familiarity; but he scarce ever opened his mouth without making some blunder, in relation to the person or business of the party with whom he conversed; so that he really looked like a comedian, hired to burlesque the character of a ministerAt length, a person of a very prepossessing appearance coming in, his grace ran up, and, hugging him in his arms, with the appellation of 'My dear Chs!' led him forthwith into the inner apartment, or Sanctum Sanctorum of this political temple. 'That (said captain C) is my friend C T, almost the only man of parts who has any concern in the present administrationIndeed, he would have no concern at all in the matter, if the ministry did not find it absolutely necessary to make use of his talents upon some particular occasionsAs for the common business of the nation, it is carried on in a constant routine by the clerks of the different offices, otherwise the wheels of government would be wholly stopt amidst the abrupt succession of ministers, every one more ignorant than his predecessorI am thinking what a fine hovel we should be in, if all the clerks of the treasury, the secretaries, of the waroffice, and the admiralty, should take it in their heads to throw up their places in imitation of the great pensionerBut, to return to C T; he certainly knows more than all the ministry and all the opposition, if their heads were laid together, and talks like an angel on a vast variety of subjects. He would really be a great man, if he had any consistency or stability of characterThen, it must be owned, he wants courage, otherwise he would never allow himself to be cowed by the great political bully, for whose understanding he has justly a very great contempt. I have seen him as much afraid of that overbearing Hector, as ever schoolboy was of his pedagogue; and yet this Hector, I shrewdly suspect, is no more than a craven at bottomBesides this defect, C has another, which he is at too little pains to hideThere's no faith to be given to his assertions, and no trust to be put in his promisesHowever, to give the devil his due, he's very goodnatured; and even friendly, when close urged in the way of solicitationAs for principle, that's out of the questionIn a word, he is a wit and an orator, extremely entertaining, and he shines very often at the expence even of those ministers to whom he is a retainer. This is a mark of great imprudence, by which he has made them all his enemies, whatever face they may put upon the matter; and sooner or later he'll have cause to wish he had been able to keep his own counsel. I have several times cautioned him on this subject; but 'tis all preaching to the desertHis vanity runs away with his discretion'I could not help thinking the captain himself might have been the better for some hints of the same natureHis panegyric, excluding principle and veracity, puts me in mind of a contest I once overheard, in the way of altercation, betwixt two applewomen in SpringgardenOne of those viragos having hinted something to the prejudice of the other's moral character, her antagonist, setting her hands in her sides, replied'Speak out, hussyI scorn your maliceI own I'm both a whore and a thief; and what more have you to say?Damn you, what more have you to say? baiting that, which all the world knows, I challenge you to say black is the white of my eye'We did not wait for Mr T's coming forth; but after captain C had characterised all the originals in waiting, we adjourned to a coffeehouse, where we had buttered muffins and tea to breakfast, the said captain still favouring us with his companyNay, my uncle was so diverted with his anecdotes, that he asked him to dinner, and treated him with a fine turbot, to which he did ample justiceThat same evening I spent at the tavern with some friends, one of whom let me into C's character, which Mr Bramble no sooner understood, than he expressed some concern for the connexion he had made, and resolved to disengage himself from it without ceremony. We are become members of the Society for the Encouragement of the Arts, and have assisted at some of their deliberations, which were conducted with equal spirit and sagacityMy uncle is extremely fond of the institution, which will certainly be productive of great advantages to the public, if, from its democratical form, it does not degenerate into cabal and corruptionYou are already acquainted with his aversion to the influence of the multitude, which, he affirms, is incompatible with excellence, and subversive of orderIndeed his detestation of the mob has been heightened by fear, ever since he fainted in the room at Bath; and this apprehension has prevented him from going to the Little Theatre in the Haymarket, and other places of entertainment, to which, however, I have had the honour to attend the ladies. It grates old Squaretoes to reflect, that it is not in his power to enjoy even the most elegant diversions of the capital, without the participation of the vulgar; for they now thrust themselves into all assemblies, from a ridotto at St James's, to a hop at Rotherhithe. I have lately seen our old acquaintance Dick Ivy, who we imagined had died of dramdrinking; but he is lately emerged from the Fleet, by means of a pamphlet which he wrote and published against the government with some success. The sale of this performance enabled him to appear in clean linen, and he is now going about soliciting subscriptions for his Poems; but his breeches are not yet in the most decent order. Dick certainly deserves some countenance for his intrepidity and perseveranceIt is not in the power of disappointment, nor even of damnation, to drive him to despairAfter some unsuccessful essays in the way of poetry, he commenced brandymerchant, and I believe his whole stock ran out through his own bowels; then he consorted with a milkwoman, who kept a cellar in Petty France: but he could not make his quarters good; he was dislodged and driven up stairs into the kennel by a corporal in the second regiment of footguardsHe was afterwards the laureat of Blackfriars, from whence there was a natural transition to the FleetAs he had formerly miscarried in panegyric, he now turned his thoughts to satire, and really seems to have some talent for abuse. If he can hold out till the meeting of the parliament, and be prepared for another charge, in all probability Dick will mount the pillory, or obtain a pension, in either of which events his fortune will be madeMean while he has acquired some degree of consideration with the respectable writers of the age; and as I have subscribed for his works, he did me the favour t'other night to introduce me to a society of those geniuses; but I found them exceedingly formal and reservedThey seemed afraid and jealous of one another, and sat in a state of mutual repulsion, like so many particles of vapour, each surrounded by its own electrified atmosphere. Dick, who has more vivacity than judgment, tried more than once to enliven the conversation; sometimes making an effort at wit, sometimes letting off a pun, and sometimes discharging a conundrum; nay, at length he started a dispute upon the hackneyed comparison betwixt blank verse and rhyme, and the professors opened with great clamour; but, instead of keeping to the subject, they launched out into tedious dissertations on the poetry of the ancients; and one of them, who had been a schoolmaster, displayed his whole knowledge of prosody, gleaned from Disputer and Ruddiman. At last, I ventured to say, I did not see how the subject in question could be at all elucidated by the practice of the ancients, who certainly had neither blank verse nor rhyme in their poems, which were measured by feet, whereas ours are reckoned by the number of syllablesThis remark seemed to give umbrage to the pedant, who forthwith involved himself in a cloud of Greek and Latin quotations, which nobody attempted to dispelA confused hum of insipid observations and comments ensued; and, upon the whole, I never passed a duller evening in my lifeYet, without all doubt, some of them were men of learning, wit, and ingenuity. As they are afraid of making free with one another, they should bring each his butt, or whetstone, along with him, for the entertainment of the companyMy uncle says, he never desires to meet with more than one wit at a timeOne wit, like a knuckle of ham in soup, gives a zest and flavour to the dish; but more than one serves only to spoil the pottageAnd now I'm afraid I have given you an unconscionable mess, without any flavour at all; for which, I suppose, you will bestow your benedictions upon Your friend, and servant J. MELFORD LONDON, June 5 To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS Your fable of the monkey and the pig, is what the Italians call ben trovata: but I shall not repeat it to my apothecary, who is a proud Scotchman, very thin skinned, and, for aught I know, may have his degree in his pocketA right Scotchman has always two strings to his bow, and is in utrumque paratusCertain it is, I have not 'scaped a scouring; but, I believe, by means of that scouring, I have 'scaped something worse, perhaps a tedious fit of the gout or rheumatism; for my appetite began to flag, and I had certain croakings in the bowels, which boded me no goodNay, I am not yet quite free of these remembrances, which warn me to be gone from this centre of infection What temptation can a man of my turn and temperament have, to live in a place where every corner teems with fresh objects of detestation and disgust? What kind of taste and organs must those people have, who really prefer the adulterate enjoyments of the town to the genuine pleasures of a country retreat? Most people, I know, are originally seduced by vanity, ambition, and childish curiosity; which cannot be gratified, but in the busy haunts of men: but, in the course of this gratification, their very organs of sense are perverted, and they become habitually lost to every relish of what is genuine and excellent in its own nature. Shall I state the difference between my town grievances, and my country comforts? At Brambletonhall, I have elbowroom within doors, and breathe a clear, elastic, salutary airI enjoy refreshing sleep, which is never disturbed by horrid noise, nor interrupted, but in amorning, by the sweet twitter of the martlet at my windowI drink the virgin lymph, pure and chrystalline as it gushes from the rock, or the sparkling beveridge, homebrewed from malt of my own making; or I indulge with cyder, which my own orchard affords; or with claret of the best growth, imported for my own use, by a correspondent on whose integrity I can depend; my bread is sweet and nourishing, made from my own wheat, ground in my own mill, and baked in my own oven; my table is, in a great measure, furnished from my own ground; my fiveyear old mutton, fed on the fragrant herbage of the mountains, that might vie with venison in juice and flavour; my delicious veal, fattened with nothing but the mother's milk, that fills the dish with gravy; my poultry from the barndoor, that never knew confinement, but when they were at roost; my rabbits panting from the warren; my game fresh from the moors; my trout and salmon struggling from the stream; oysters from their native banks; and herrings, with other sea fish, I can eat in four hours after they are takenMy sallads, roots, and potherbs, my own garden yields in plenty and perfection; the produce of the natural soil, prepared by moderate cultivation. The same soil affords all the different fruits which England may call her own, so that my dessert is every day freshgathered from the tree; my dairy flows with nectarious tildes of milk and cream, from whence we derive abundance of excellent butter, curds, and cheese; and the refuse fattens my pigs, that are destined for hams and baconI go to bed betimes, and rise with the sunI make shift to pass the hours without weariness or regret, and am not destitute of amusements within doors, when the weather will not permit me to go abroadI read, and chat, and play at billiards, cards or backgammonWithout doors, I superintend my farm, and execute plans of improvements, the effects of which I enjoy with unspeakable delightNor do I take less pleasure in seeing my tenants thrive under my auspices, and the poor live comfortably by the employment which I provideYou know I have one or two sensible friends, to whom I can open all my heart; a blessing which, perhaps, I might have sought in vain among the crowded scenes of life: there are a few others of more humble parts, whom I esteem for their integrity; and their conversation I find inoffensive, though not very entertaining. Finally, I live in the midst of honest men, and trusty dependents, who, I flatter myself, have a disinterested attachment to my person. You, yourself, my dear Doctor, can vouch for the truth of these assertions. Now, mark the contrast at LondonI am pent up in frowzy lodgings, where there is not room enough to swing a cat; and I breathe the steams of endless putrefaction; and these would, undoubtedly, produce a pestilence, if they were not qualified by the gross acid of seacoal, which is itself a pernicious nuisance to lungs of any delicacy of texture: but even this boasted corrector cannot prevent those languid, sallow looks, that distinguish the inhabitants of London from those ruddy swains that lead a countrylifeI go to bed after midnight, jaded and restless from the dissipations of the dayI start every hour from my sleep, at the horrid noise of the watchmen bawling the hour through every street, and thundering at every door; a set of useless fellows, who serve no other purpose but that of disturbing the repose of the inhabitants; and by five o'clock I start out of bed, in consequence of the still more dreadful alarm made by the country carts, and noisy rustics bellowing green pease under my window. If I would drink water, I must quaff the maukish contents of an open aqueduct, exposed to all manner of defilement; or swallow that which comes from the river Thames, impregnated with all the filth of London and WestminsterHuman excrement is the least offensive part of the concrete, which is composed of all the drugs, minerals, and poisons, used in mechanics and manufacture, enriched with the putrefying carcasses of beasts and men; and mixed with the scourings of all the washtubs, kennels, and common sewers, within the bills of mortality. This is the agreeable potation, extolled by the Londoners, as the finest water in the universeAs to the intoxicating potion, sold for wine, it is a vile, unpalatable, and pernicious sophistication, balderdashed with cyder, cornspirit, and the juice of sloes. In an action at law, laid against a carman for having staved a cask of port, it appeared from the evidence of the cooper, that there were not above five gallons of real wine in the whole pipe, which held above a hundred, and even that had been brewed and adulterated by the merchant at Oporto. The bread I cat in London, is a deleterious paste, mixed up with chalk, alum, and boneashes; insipid to the taste, and destructive to the constitution. The good people are not ignorant of this adulterationbut they prefer it to wholesome bread, because it is whiter than the meal of corn: thus they sacrifice their taste and their health, and the lives of their tender infants, to a most absurd gratification of a misjudging eye; and the miller, or the baker, is obliged to poison them and their families, in order to live by his profession. The same monstrous depravity appears in their veal, which is bleached by repeated bleedings, and other villainous arts, till there is not a drop of juice left in the body, and the poor animal is paralytic before it dies; so void of all taste, nourishment, and savour, that a man might dine as comfortably on a white fricassee of kidskin gloves; or chip hats from Leghorn. As they have discharged the natural colour from their bread, their butchersmeat, and poultry, their cutlets, ragouts, fricassees and sauces of all kinds; so they insist upon having the complexion of their potherbs mended, even at the hazard of their lives. Perhaps, you will hardly believe they can be so mad as to boil their greens with brass halfpence, in order to improve their colour; and yet nothing is more trueIndeed, without this improvement in the colour, they have no personal merit. They are produced in an artificial soil, and taste of nothing but the dunghills, from whence they spring. My cabbage, cauliflower, and 'sparagus in the country, are as much superior in flavour to those that are sold in Coventgarden, as my heathmutton is to that of St James'smarket; which in fact, is neither lamb nor mutton, but something betwixt the two, gorged in the rank fens of Lincoln and Essex, pale, coarse, and frowzyAs for the pork, it is an abominable carnivorous animal, fed with horseflesh and distillers' grains; and the poultry is all rotten, in consequence of a fever, occasioned by the infamous practice of sewing up the gut, that they may be the sooner fattened in coops, in consequence of this cruel retention. Of the fish, I need say nothing in this hot weather, but that it comes sixty, seventy, fourscore, and a hundred miles by landcarriage; a circumstance sufficient without any comment, to turn a Dutchman's stomach, even if his nose was not saluted in every alley with the sweet flavour of fresh mackarel, selling by retail. This is not the season for oysters; nevertheless, it may not be amiss to mention, that the right Colchester are kept in slimepits, occasionally overflowed by the sea; and that the green colour, so much admired by the voluptuaries of this metropolis, is occasioned by the vitriolic scum, which rises on the surface of the stagnant and stinking waterOur rabbits are bred and fed in the poulterer's cellar, where they have neither air nor exercise, consequently they must be firm in flesh, and delicious in flavour; and there is no game to be had for love or money. It must be owned, the Coventgarden affords some good fruit; which, however, is always engrossed by a few individuals of overgrown fortune, at an exorbitant price; so that little else than the refuse of the market falls to the share of the community; and that is distributed by such filthy hands, as I cannot look at without loathing. It was but yesterday that I saw a dirty barrowbunter in the street, cleaning her dusty fruit with her own spittle; and, who knows but some fine lady of St James's parish might admit into her delicate mouth those very cherries, which had been rolled and moistened between the filthy, and, perhaps, ulcerated chops of a St Giles's hucksterI need not dwell upon the pallid, contaminated mash, which they call strawberries; soiled and tossed by greasy paws through twenty baskets crusted with dirt; and then presented with the worst milk, thickened with the worst flour, into a bad likeness of cream: but the milk itself should not pass unanalysed, the produce of faded cabbageleaves and sour draff, lowered with hot water, frothed with bruised snails, carried through the streets in open pails, exposed to foul rinsings, discharged from doors and windows, spittle, snot, and tobaccoquids from foot passengers, overflowings from mud carts, spatterings from coach wheels, dirt and trash chucked into it by roguish boys for the joke's sake, the spewings of infants, who have slabbered in the tinmeasure, which is thrown back in that condition among the milk, for the benefit of the next customer; and, finally, the vermin that drops from the rags of the nasty drab that vends this precious mixture, under the respectable denomination of milkmaid. I shall conclude this catalogue of London dainties, with that tablebeer, guiltless of hops and malt, vapid and nauseous; much fitter to facilitate the operation of a vomit, than to quench thirst and promote digestion; the tallowy rancid mass, called butter, manufactured with candle grease and kitchen stuff; and their fresh eggs, imported from France and Scotland.Now, all these enormities might be remedied with a very little attention to the article of police, or civil regulation; but the wise patriots of London have taken it into their heads, that all regulation is inconsistent with liberty; and that every man ought to live in his own way, without restraintNay, as there is not sense enough left among them, to be discomposed by the nuisance I have mentioned, they may, for aught I care, wallow in the mire of their own pollution. A companionable man will, undoubtedly put up with many inconveniences for the sake of enjoying agreeable society. A facetious friend of mine used to say, the wine could not be bad, where the company was agreeable; a maxim which, however, ought to be taken cum grano salis: but what is the society of London, that I should be tempted, for its sake, to mortify my senses, and compound with such uncleanness as my soul abhors? All the people I see, are too much engrossed by schemes of interest or ambition, to have any room left for sentiment or friendship. Even in some of my old acquaintance, those schemes and pursuits have obliterated all traces of our former connexionConversation is reduced to party disputes, and illiberal altercationSocial commerce, to formal visits and cardplayingIf you pick up a diverting original by accident, it may be dangerous to amuse yourself with his odditiesHe is generally a tartar at bottom; a sharper, a spy, or a lunatic. Every person you deal with endeavours to overreach you in the way of business; you are preyed upon by idle mendicants, who beg in the phrase of borrowing, and live upon the spoils of the strangerYour tradesmen are without conscience, your friends without affection, and your dependents without fidelity. My letter would swell into a treatise, were I to particularize every cause of offence that fills up the measure of my aversion to this, and every other crowded cityThank Heaven! I am not so far sucked into the vortex, but that I can disengage myself without any great effort of philosophyFrom this wild uproar of knavery, folly, and impertinence, I shall fly with double relish to the serenity of retirement, the cordial effusions of unreserved friendship, the hospitality and protection of the rural gods; in a word, the jucunda oblivia Vitae, which Horace himself had not taste enough to enjoy. I have agreed for a good travellingcoach and four, at a guinea a day, for three months certain; and next week we intend to begin our journey to the North, hoping still to be with you by the latter end of OctoberI shall continue to write from every stage where we make any considerable halt, as often as anything occurs, which I think can afford you the least amusement. In the mean time, I must beg you will superintend the oeconomy of Barns, with respect to my hay and corn harvests; assured that my ground produces nothing but what you may freely call your ownOn any other terms I should be ashamed to subscribe myself Your unvariable friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 8. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, In my last, I mentioned my having spent an evening with a society of authors, who seemed to be jealous and afraid of one another. My uncle was not at all surprised to hear me say I was disappointed in their conversation. 'A man may be very entertaining and instructive upon paper (said he), and exceedingly dull in common discourse. I have observed, that those who shine most in private company, are but secondary stars in the constellation of geniusA small stock of ideas is more easily managed, and sooner displayed, than a great quantity crowded together. There is very seldom any thing extraordinary in the appearance and address of a good writer; whereas a dull author generally distinguishes himself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason, I fancy, that an assembly of Grubs must be very diverting.' My curiosity being excited by this hint, I consulted my friend Dick Ivy, who undertook to gratify it the very next day, which was Sunday last. He carried me to dine with S, whom you and I have long known by his writings.He lives in the skirts of the town, and every Sunday his house is opened to all unfortunate brothers of the quill, whom he treats with beef, pudding, and potatoes, port, punch, and Calvert's entire butt beer. He has fixed upon the first day of the week for the exercise of his hospitality, because some of his guests could not enjoy it on any other, for reasons that I need not explain. I was civilly received in a plain, yet decent habitation, which opened backwards into a very pleasant garden, kept in excellent order; and, indeed, I saw none of the outward signs of authorship, either in the house or the landlord, who is one of those few writers of the age that stand upon their own foundation, without patronage, and above dependence. If there was nothing characteristic in the entertainer, the company made ample amends for his want of singularity. At two in the afternoon, I found myself one of ten messmates seated at table; and, I question, if the whole kingdom could produce such another assemblage of originals. Among their peculiarities, I do not mention those of dress, which may be purely accidental. What struck me were oddities originally produced by affectation, and afterwards confirmed by habit. One of them wore spectacles at dinner, and another his hat flapped; though (as Ivy told me) the first was noted for having a seaman's eye, when a bailiff was in the wind; and the other was never known to labour under any weakness or defect of vision, except about five years ago, when he was complimented with a couple of black eyes by a player, with whom he had quarrelled in his drink. A third wore a laced stocking, and made use of crutches, because, once in his life, he had been laid up with a broken leg, though no man could leap over a stick with more agility. A fourth had contracted such an antipathy to the country, that he insisted upon sitting with his back towards the window that looked into the garden, and when a dish of cauliflower was set upon the table, he snuffed up volatile salts to keep him from fainting; yet this delicate person was the son of a cottager, born under a hedge, and had many years run wild among asses on a common. A fifth affected distraction. When spoke to, he always answered from the purpose sometimes he suddenly started up, and rapped out a dreadful oath sometimes he burst out alaughingthen he folded his arms, and sighed and then, he hissed like fifty serpents. At first I really thought he was mad, and, as he sat near me, began to be under some apprehensions for my own safety, when our landlord, perceiving me alarmed, assured me aloud that I had nothing to fear. 'The gentleman (said he) is trying to act a part for which he is by no means qualifiedif he had all the inclination in the world, it is not in his power to be mad. His spirits are too flat to be kindled into frenzy.' ''Tis no bad pppuff, however (observed a person in a tarnished laced coat): affffected inmadness wwill ppass for wwit wwith nineninetteen out of ttwenty.''And affected stuttering for humour: replied our landlord, tho', God knows, there is an affinity betwixt them.' It seems, this wag, after having made some abortive attempts in plain speaking, had recourse to this defect, by means of which he frequently extorted the laugh of the company, without the least expence of genius; and that imperfection, which he had at first counterfeited, was now become so habitual, that he could not lay it aside. A certain winking genius, who wore yellow gloves at dinner, had, on his first introduction, taken such offence at S, because he looked and talked, and ate and drank like any other man, that he spoke contemptuously of his understanding ever after, and never would repeat his visit, until he had exhibited the following proof of his caprice. Wat Wyvil, the poet, having made some unsuccessful advances towards an intimacy with S, at last gave him to understand, by a third person, that he had written a poem in his praise, and a satire against his person; that if he would admit him to his house, the first should be immediately sent to press; but that if he persisted in declining his friendship, he would publish his satire without delay. S replied, that he looked upon Wyvil's panegyrick, as in effect, a species of infamy, and would resent it accordingly with a good cudgel; but if he published the satire, he might deserve his compassion, and had nothing to fear from his revenge. Wyvil having considered the alternative, resolved to mortify S by printing the panegyrick, for which he received a sound drubbing. Then he swore the peace against the aggressor, who, in order to avoid a prosecution at law, admitted him to his good graces. It was the singularity in S's conduct, on this occasion, that reconciled him to the yellowgloved philosopher, who owned he had some genius, and from that period cultivated his acquaintance. Curious to know upon what subjects the several talents of my fellowguests were employed, I applied to my communicative friend Dick Ivy, who gave me to understand, that most of them were, or had been, understrappers, or journeymen, to more creditable authors, for whom they translated, collated, and compiled, in the business of bookmaking; and that all of them had, at different times, laboured in the service of our landlord, though they had now set up for themselves in various departments of literature. Not only their talents, but also their nations and dialects were so various, that our conversation resembled the confusion of tongues at Babel. We had the Irish brogue, the Scotch accent, and foreign idiom, twanged off by the most discordant vociferation; for, as they all spoke together, no man had any chance to be heard, unless he could bawl louder than his fellows. It must be owned, however, there was nothing pedantic in their discourse; they carefully avoided all learned disquisitions, and endeavoured to be facetious; nor did their endeavours always miscarrysome droll repartee passed, and much laughter was excited; and if any individual lost his temper so far as to transgress the bounds of decorum, he was effectually checked by the master of the feast, who exerted a sort of paternal authority over this irritable tribe. The most learned philosopher of the whole collection, who had been expelled the university for atheism, has made great progress in a refutation of lord Bolingbroke's metaphysical works, which is said to be equally ingenious, and orthodox; but, in the mean time, he has been presented to the grand jury as a public nuisance, for having blasphemed in an alehouse on the Lord's day. The Scotchman gives lectures on the pronunciation of the English language, which he is now publishing by subscription. The Irishman is a political writer, and goes by the name of my Lord Potatoe. He wrote a pamphlet in vindication of a minister, hoping his zeal would be rewarded with some place or pension; but, finding himself neglected in that quarter, he whispered about, that the pamphlet was written by the minister himself, and he published an answer to his own production. In this, he addressed the author under the title of your lordship with such solemnity, that the public swallowed the deceit, and bought up the whole impression. The wise politicians of the metropolis declared they were both masterly performances, and chuckled over the flimsy reveries of an ignorant garretteer, as the profound speculations of a veteran statesman, acquainted with all the secrets of the cabinet. The imposture was detected in the sequel, and our Hibernian pamphleteer retains no part of his assumed importance, but the bare title of my lord. and the upper part of the table at the potatoeordinary in Shoelane. Opposite to me sat a Piedmontese, who had obliged the public with a humorous satire, intituled, The Ballance of the English Poets, a performance which evinced the great modesty and taste of the author, and, in particular, his intimacy with the elegancies of the English language. The sage, who laboured under the agrophobia, or horror of green fields, had just finished a treatise on practical agriculture, though, in fact, he had never seen corn growing in his life, and was so ignorant of grain, that our entertainer, in the face of the whole company, made him own, that a plate of hominy was the best rice pudding he had ever eat. The stutterer had almost finished his travels through Europe and part of Asia, without ever budging beyond the liberties of the King's Bench, except in termtime, with a tipstaff for his companion; and as for little Tim Cropdale, the most facetious member of the whole society, he had happily wound up the catastrophe of a virgin tragedy, from the exhibition of which he promised himself a large fund of profit and reputation. Tim had made shift to live many years by writing novels, at the rate of five pounds a volume; but that branch of business is now engrossed by female authors, who publish merely for the propagation of virtue, with so much ease and spirit, and delicacy, and knowledge of the human heart, and all in the serene tranquillity of high life, that the reader is not only inchanted by their genius, but reformed by their morality. After dinner, we adjourned into the garden, where, I observed, Mr S gave a short separate audience to every individual in a small remote filbert walk, from whence most of them dropt off one after another, without further ceremony; but they were replaced by fresh recruits of the same clan, who came to make an afternoon's visit; and, among others, a spruce bookseller, called Birkin, who rode his own gelding, and made his appearance in a pair of new jemmy boots, with massy spurs of plate. It was not without reason, that this midwife of the Muses used exercise ahorseback, for he was too fat to walk afoot, and he underwent some sarcasms from Tim Cropdale, on his unwieldy size and inaptitude for motion. Birkin, who took umbrage at this poor author's petulance in presuming to joke upon a man so much richer than himself, told him, he was not so unwieldy but that he could move the Marshalsea court for a writ, and even overtake him with it, if he did not very speedily come and settle accounts with him, respecting the expence of publishing his last ode to the king of Prussia, of which he had sold but three, and one of them was to Whitfield the methodist. Tim affected to receive this intimation with good humour, saying, he expected in a post or two, from Potsdam, a poem of thanks from his Prussian majesty, who knew very well how to pay poets in their own coin; but, in the mean time, he proposed, that Mr Birkin and he should run three times round the garden for a bowl of punch, to be drank at Ashley's in the evening, and he would run boots against stockings. The bookseller, who valued himself upon his mettle, was persuaded to accept the challenge, and he forthwith resigned his boots to Cropdale, who, when he had put them on, was no bad representation of captain Pistol in the play. Every thing being adjusted, they started together with great impetuosity, and, in the second round, Birkin had clearly the advantage, larding the lean earth as he puff'd along. Cropdale had no mind to contest the victory further; but, in a twinkling, disappeared through the backdoor of the garden, which opened into a private lane, that had communication with the high road.The spectators immediately began to hollow, 'Stole away!' and Birkin set off in pursuit of him with great eagerness; but he had not advanced twenty yards in the lane, when a thorn running into his foot, sent him hopping back into the garden, roaring with pain, and swearing with vexation. When he was delivered from this annoyance by the Scotchman, who had been bred to surgery, he looked about him wildly, exclaiming, 'Sure, the fellow won't be such a rogue as to run clear away with my boots!' Our landlord, having reconnoitered the shoes he had left, which, indeed, hardly deserved that name, 'Pray (said he), Mr Birkin, wa'n't your boots made of calfskin?' 'Calfskin or cowskin (replied the other) I'll find a slip of sheepskin that will do his businessI lost twenty pounds by his farce which you persuaded me to buyI am out of pocket five pounds by his damn'd ode; and now this pair of boots, bran new, cost me thirty shillings, as per receiptBut this affair of the boots is felonytransportation.I'll have the dog indicted at the Old BaileyI will, Mr S I will be reveng'd, even though I should lose my debt in consequence of his conviction.' Mr S said nothing at present, but accommodated him with a pair of shoes; then ordered his servant to rub him down, and comfort him with a glass of rumpunch, which seemed, in a great measure, to cool the rage of his indignation. 'After all (said our landlord) this is no more than a humbug in the way of wit, though it deserves a more respectable epithet, when considered as an effort of invention. Tim, being (I suppose) out of credit with the cordwainer, fell upon this ingenious expedient to supply the want of shoes, knowing that Mr Birkin, who loves humour, would himself relish the joke upon a little recollection. Cropdale literally lives by his wit, which he has exercised upon all his friends in their turns. He once borrowed my poney for five or six days to go to Salisbury, and sold him in Smithfield at his return. This was a joke of such a serious nature, that, in the first transports of my passion, I had some thoughts of prosecuting him for horsestealing; and even when my resentment had in some measure subsided, as he industriously avoided me, I vowed, I would take satisfaction on his ribs with the first opportunity. One day, seeing him at some distance in the street, coming towards me, I began to prepare my cane for action, and walked in the shadow of a porter, that he might not perceive me soon enough to make his escape; but, in the very instant I had lifted up the instrument of correction, I found Tim Cropdale metamorphosed into a miserable blind wretch, feeling his way with a long stick from post to post, and rolling about two bald unlighted orbs instead of eyes. I was exceedingly shocked at having so narrowly escaped the concern and disgrace that would have attended such a misapplication of vengeance: but, next day, Tim prevailed upon a friend of mine to come and solicit my forgiveness, and offer his note, payable in six weeks, for the price of the poney. This gentleman gave me to understand, that the blind man was no other than Cropdale, who having seen me advancing, and guessing my intent, had immediately converted himself into the object aforesaidI was so diverted at the ingenuity of the evasion, that I agreed to pardon his offence, refusing his note, however, that I might keep a prosecution for felony hanging over his head, as a security for his future good behaviourBut Timothy would by no means trust himself in my hands till the note was acceptedthen he made his appearance at my door as a blind beggar, and imposed in such a manner upon my man, who had been his old acquaintance and potcompanion, that the fellow threw the door in his face, and even threatened to give him the bastinado. Hearing a noise in the hall, I went thither, and immediately recollecting the figure I had passed in the street, accosted him by his own name, to the unspeakable astonishment of the footman.' Birkin declared he loved a joke as well as another; but asked if any of the company could tell where Mr Cropdale lodged, that he might send him a proposal about restitution, before the boots should be made away with. 'I would willingly give him a pair of new shoes (said he), and half a guinea into the bargain' for the boots, which fitted me like a glove; and I shan't be able to get the fellows of them 'till the good weather for riding is over. The stuttering wit declared, that the only secret which Cropdale ever kept, was the place of his lodgings; but he believed, that, during the heats of summer, he commonly took his repose upon a bulk, or indulged himself, in fresco, with one of the kennelnymphs, under the portico of St Martin's church. 'Pox on him! (cried the bookseller) he might as well have taken my whip and spurs. In that case, he might have been tempted to steal another horse, and then he would have rid to the devil of course.' After coffee, I took my leave of Mr S, with proper acknowledgments of his civility, and was extremely well pleased with the entertainment of the day, though not yet satisfied, with respect to the nature of this connexion, betwixt a man of character in the literary world, and a parcel of authorlings, who, in all probability, would never be able to acquire any degree of reputation by their labours. On this head I interrogated my conductor, Dick Ivy, who answered me to this effect'One would imagine S had some view to his own interest, in giving countenance and assistance to those people, whom he knows to be bad men, as well as bad writers; but, if he has any such view, he will find himself disappointed; for if he is so vain as to imagine he can make them, subservient to his schemes of profit or ambition, they are cunning enough to make him their property in the mean time. There is not one of the company you have seen today (myself excepted) who does not owe him particular obligationsOne of them he bailed out of a spunginghouse, and afterwards paid the debtanother he translated into his family, and clothed, when he was turned out half naked from jail in consequence of an act for the relief of insolvent debtorsa third, who was reduced to a woollen night cap, and lived upon sheeps trotters, up three pair of stairs backward in Butcherrow, he took into present pay and free quarters, and enabled him to appear as a gentleman, without having the fear of sheriff's officers before his eyes. Those who are in distress he supplies with money when he has it, and with his credit when he is out of cash. When they want business, he either finds employment for them in his own service, or recommends them to booksellers to execute some project he has formed for their subsistence. They are always welcome to his table (which though plain, is plentiful) and to his good offices as far as they will go, and when they see Occasion, they make use of his name with the most petulant familiarity; nay, they do not even scruple to arrogate to themselves the merit of some of his performances, and have been known to sell their own lucubrations as the produce of his brain. The Scotchman you saw at dinner once personated him at an alehouse in WestSmithfield and, in the character of S, had his head broke by a cowkeeper, for having spoke disrespectfully of the Christian religion; but he took the law of him in his own person, and the assailant was fain to give him ten pounds to withdraw his action.' I observed, that all this appearance of liberality on the side of Mr S was easily accounted for, on the supposition that they flattered him in private, and engaged his adversaries in public; and yet I was astonished, when I recollected that I often had seen this writer virulently abused in papers, poems, and pamphlets, and not a pen was drawn in his defence 'But you will be more astonished (said he) when I assure you, those very guests whom you saw at his table today, were the authors of great part of that abuse; and he himself is well aware of their particular favours, for they are all eager to detect and betray one another.' 'But this is doing the devil's work for nothing (cried I). What should induce them to revile their benefactor without provocation?' 'Envy (answered Dick) is the general incitement; but they are galled by an additional scourge of provocation. S directs a literary journal, in which their productions are necessarily brought to trial; and though many of them have been treated with such lenity and favour as they little deserved, yet the slightest censure, such as, perhaps, could not be avoided with any pretensions to candour and impartiality, has rankled in the hearts of those authors to such a degree, that they have taken immediate vengeance on the critic in anonymous libels, letters, and lampoons. Indeed, all the writers of the age, good, bad, and indifferent, from the moment he assumed this office, became his enemies, either professed or in petto, except those of his friends who knew they had nothing to fear from his strictures; and he must be a wiser man than me who can tell what advantage or satisfaction he derives from having brought such a nest of hornets about his ears.' I owned, that was a point which might deserve consideration; but still I expressed a desire to know his real motives for continuing his friendship to a set of rascals equally ungrateful and insignificant.He said, he did not pretend to assign any reasonable motive; that, if the truth must be told, the man was, in point of conduct, a most incorrigible fool; that, though he pretended to have a knack at hitting off characters, he blundered strangely in the distribution of his favours, which were generally bestowed on the most undeserving of those who had recourse to his assistance; that, indeed, this preference was not so much owing to want of discernment as to want of resolution, for he had not fortitude enough to resist the importunity even of the most worthless; and, as he did not know the value of money, there was very little merit in parting with it so easily; that his pride was gratified in seeing himself courted by such a number of literary dependents; that, probably, he delighted in hearing them expose and traduce one another; and, finally, from their information, he became acquainted with all the transactions of Grubstreet, which he had some thoughts of compiling for the entertainment of the public. I could not help suspecting, from Dick's discourse, that he had some particular grudge against S, upon whose conduct he had put the worst construction it would bear; and, by dint of crossexamination, I found he was not at all satisfied with the character which had been given in the Review of his last performance, though it had been treated civilly in consequence of the author's application to the critic. By all accounts, S is not without weakness and caprice; but he is certainly goodhumoured and civilized; nor do I find that there is any thing overbearing, cruel, or implacable in his disposition. I have dwelt so long upon authors, that you will perhaps suspect I intend to enroll myself among the fraternity; but, if I were actually qualified for the profession, it is at best but a desperate resource against starving, as it affords no provision for old age and infirmity. Salmon, at the age of fourscore, is now in a garret, compiling matter, at a guinea a sheet, for a modern historian, who, in point of age, might be his grandchild; and Psalmonazar, after having drudged half a century in the literary mill, in all the simplicity and abstinence of an Asiatic, subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers, just sufficient to keep him from the parish, I think Guy, who was himself a bookseller, ought to have appropriated one wing or ward of his hospital to the use of decayed authors; though indeed, there is neither hospital, college, nor workhouse, within the bills of mortality, large enough to contain the poor of this society, composed, as it is, from the refuse of every other profession. I know not whether you will find any amusement in this account of an odd race of mortals, whose constitution had, I own, greatly interested the curiosity of Yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 10. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAR LETTY, There is something on my spirits, which I should not venture to communicate by the post, but having the opportunity of Mrs Brentwood's return, I seize it eagerly, to disburthen my poor heart, which is oppressed with fear and vexation.O Letty! what a miserable situation it is, to be without a friend to whom one can apply for counsel and consolation in distress! I hinted in my last, that one Mr Barton had been very particular in his civilities: I can no longer mistake his meaninghe has formally professed himself my admirer; and, after a thousand assiduities, perceiving I made but a cold return to his addresses, he had recourse to the mediation of lady Griskin, who has acted the part of a very warm advocate in his behalf:but, my dear Willis, her ladyship over acts her partshe not only expatiates on the ample fortune, the great connexions, and the unblemished character of Mr Barton, but she takes the trouble to catechise me; and, two days ago, peremptorily told me, that a girl of my age could not possibly resist so many considerations, if her heart was not preengaged. This insinuation threw me into such a flutter, that she could not but observe my disorder; and, presuming upon the discovery, insisted upon my making her the confidante of my passion. But, although I had not such command of myself as to conceal the emotion of my heart, I am not such a child as to disclose its secret to a person who would certainly use them to its prejudice. I told her, it was no wonder if I was out of countenance at her introducing a subject of conversation so unsuitable to my years and inexperience; that I believed Mr Barton was a very worthy gentleman, and I was much obliged to him for his good opinion; but the affections were involuntary, and mine, in particular, had as yet made no concessions in his favour. She shook her head with an air of distrust that made me tremble; and observed, that if my affections were free, they would submit to the decision of prudence, especially when enforced by the authority of those who had a right to direct my conduct. This remark implied a design to interest my uncle or my aunt, perhaps my brother, in behalf of Mr Barton's passion; and I am sadly afraid that my aunt is already gained over. Yesterday in the forenoon, he had been walking with us in the Park, and stopping in our return at a toyshop, he presented her with a very fine snuffbox, and me with a gold etuis, which I resolutely refused, till she commanded me to accept it on pain of her displeasure: nevertheless, being still unsatisfied with respect to the propriety of receiving this toy, I signified my doubts to my brother, who said he would consult my uncle on the subject, and seemed to think Mr Barton had been rather premature in his presents. What will be the result of this consultation, Heaven knows; but I am afraid it will produce an explanation with Mr Barton, who will, no doubt, avow his passion, and solicit their consent to a connexion which my soul abhors; for, my dearest Letty, it is not in my power to love Mr Barton, even if my heart was untouched by any other tenderness. Not that there is any thing disagreeable about his person, but there is a total want of that nameless charm which captivates and controuls the inchanted spirit at least, he appears to me to have this defect; but if he had all the engaging qualifications which a man can possess, they would be excited in vain against that constancy, which, I flatter myself, is the characteristic of my nature. No, my dear Willis, I may be involved in fresh troubles, and I believe I shall, from the importunities of this gentleman and the violence of my relations; but my heart is incapable of change. You know I put no faith in dreams; and yet I have been much disturbed by one that visited me last night.I thought I was in a church, where a certain person, whom you know, was on the point of being married to my aunt; that the clergyman was Mr Barton, and that poor forlorn I, stood weeping in a corner, half naked, and without shoes or stockings.Now, I know there is nothing so childish as to be moved by those vain illusions; but, nevertheless, in spite of all my reason, this hath made a strong impression upon my mind, which begins to be very gloomy. Indeed, I have another more substantial cause of afflictionI have some religious scruples, my dear friend, which lie heavy on my conscience.I was persuaded to go to the Tabernacle, where I heard a discourse that affected me deeply.I have prayed fervently to be enlightened, but as yet I am not sensible of these inward motions, those operations of grace, which are the signs of a regenerated spirit; and therefore I begin to be in terrible apprehensions about the state of my poor soul. Some of our family have had very uncommon accessions, particularly my aunt and Mrs Jenkins, who sometimes speak as if they were really inspired; so that I am not like to want for either exhortation or example, to purify my thoughts, and recall them from the vanities of this world, which, indeed, I would willingly resign, if it was in my power; but to make this sacrifice, I must be enabled by such assistance from above as hath not yet been indulged to Your unfortunate friend, LYDIA MELFORD June 10. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, The moment I received your letter, I began to execute your commissionWith the assistance of mine host at the Bull and Gate, I discovered the place to which your fugitive valet had retreated, and taxed him with his dishonestyThe fellow was in manifest confusion at sight of me, but he denied the charge with great confidence, till I told him, that if he would give up the watch, which was a family piece, he might keep the money and the clothes, and go to the devil his own way, at his leisure; but if he rejected this proposal, I would deliver him forthwith to the constable, whom I had provided for that purpose, and he would carry him before the justice without further delay. After some hesitation, he desired to speak with me in the next room, where he produced the watch, with all its appendages, and I have delivered it to our landlord, to be sent you by the first safe conveyance. So much for business. I shall grow vain, upon your saying you find entertainment in my letters; barren, as they certainly are, of incident and importance, because your amusement must arise, not from the matter, but from the manner, which you know is all my ownAnimated, therefore, by the approbation of a person, whose nice taste and consummate judgment I can no longer doubt, I will chearfully proceed with our memoirsAs it is determined we shall set out next week for Yorkshire, I went today in the forenoon with my uncle to see a carriage, belonging to a coachmaker in our neighbourhoodTurning down a narrow lane, behind Longacre, we perceived a crowd of people standing at a door; which, it seems, opened into a kind of a methodist meeting, and were informed, that a footman was then holding forth to the congregation within. Curious to see this phoenomenon, we squeezed into the place with much difficulty; and who should this preacher be, but the identical Humphry Clinker. He had finished his sermon, and given out a psalm, the first stave of which he sung with peculiar gracesBut if we were astonished to see Clinker in the pulpit, we were altogether confounded at finding all the females of our family among the audienceThere was lady Griskin, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, my sister Liddy, and Mr Barton, and all of them joined in the psalmody, with strong marks of devotion. I could hardly keep my gravity on this ludicrous occasion; but old Squaretoes was differently affectedThe first thing that struck him, was the presumption of his lacquey, whom he commanded to come down, with such an air of authority as Humphry did not think proper to disregard. He descended immediately, and all the people were in commotion. Barton looked exceedingly sheepish, lady Griskin flirted her fan, Mrs Tabby groaned in spirit, Liddy changed countenance, and Mrs Jenkins sobbed as if her heart was breakingMy uncle, with a sneer, asked pardon of the ladies, for having interrupted their devotion, saying, he had particular business with the preacher, whom he ordered to call a hackneycoach. This being immediately brought up to the end of the lane, he handed Liddy into it, and my aunt and I following him, we drove home, without taking any further notice of the rest of the company, who still remained in silent astonishment. Mr Bramble, perceiving Liddy in great trepidation, assumed a milder aspect, bidding her be under no concern, for he was not at all displeased at any thing she had done'I have no objection (said he) to your being religiously inclined; but I don't think my servant is a proper ghostly director for a devotee of your sex and characterif, in fact (as I rather believe) your aunt is not the sole conductress of, this machine'Mrs Tabitha made no answer, but threw up the whites of her eyes, as if in the act of ejaculationPoor Liddy, said, she had no right to the title of a devotee; that she thought there was no harm in hearing a pious discourse, even if it came from a footman, especially as her aunt was present; but that if she had erred from ignorance, she hoped he would excuse it, as she could not bear the thoughts of living under his displeasure. The old gentleman, pressing her hand with a tender smile, said she was a good girl, and that he did not believe her capable of doing any thing that could give him the least umbrage or disgust. When we arrived at our lodgings, he commanded Mr Clinker to attend him up stairs, and spoke to him in these words'Since you are called upon by the spirit to preach and to teach, it is high time to lay aside the livery of an earthly master; and for my part, I am unworthy to have an apostle in my service''I hope (said Humphry) I have not failed in my duty to your honourI should be a vile wretch if I did, considering the misery from which your charity and compassion relieved mebut having an inward admonition of the spirit' 'An admonition of the devil (cried the squire, in a passion) What admonition, you blockhead? What right has such a fellow as you to set up for a reformer?' 'Begging your honour's pardon (replied Clinker) may not the new light of God's grace shine upon the poor and the ignorant in their humility, as well as upon the wealthy, and the philosopher in all his pride of human learning?' 'What you imagine to be the new light of grace (said his master) I take to be a deceitful vapour, glimmering through a crack in your upper storyIn a word, Mr Clinker, I will have no light in my family but what pays the king's taxes, unless it be the light of reason, which you don't pretend to follow.' 'Ah, sir! (cried Humphry) the light of reason, is no more in comparison to the light I mean, than a farthing candle to the sun at noon''Very true (said uncle), the one will serve to shew you your way, and the other to dazzle and confound your weak brain. Heark ye, Clinker, you are either an hypocritical knave, or a wrongheaded enthusiast; and in either case, unfit for my service. If you are a quack in sanctity and devotion, you will find it an easy matter to impose upon silly women, and others of crazed understanding, who will contribute lavishly for your support. If you are really seduced by the reveries of a disturbed imagination, the sooner you lose your senses entirely, the better for yourself and the community. In that case, some charitable person might provide you with a dark room and clean straw in Bedlam, where it would not be in your power to infect others with your fanaticism; whereas, if you have just reflection enough left to maintain the character of a chosen vessel in the meetings of the godly, you and your hearers will be misled by a Willi'thewisp, from one error into another, till you are plunged into religious frenzy; and then, perhaps, you will hang yourself in despair' 'Which the Lord of his infinite mercy forbid! (exclaimed the affrighted Clinker) It is very possible I may be under the temptation of the devil, who wants to wreck me on the rocks of spiritual prideYour honour says, I am either a knave or a madman; now, as I'll assure your honour, I am no knave, it follows that I must be mad; therefore, I beseech your honour, upon my knees, to take my case into consideration, that means may be used for my recovery' The 'squire could not help smiling at the poor fellow's simplicity, and promised to take care of him, provided he would mind the business of his place, without running after the new light of methodism: but Mrs Tabitha took offence at his humility, which she interpreted into poorness of spirit and worldly mindedness. She upbraided him with the want of courage to suffer for conscience sakeShe observed, that if he should lose his place for bearing testimony to the truth, Providence would not fail to find him another, perhaps more advantageous; and, declaring that it could not be very agreeable to live in a family where an inquisition was established, retired to another room in great agitation. My uncle followed her with a significant look, then, turning to the preacher, 'You hear what my sister saysIf you cannot live with me upon such terms as I have prescribed, the vineyard of methodism lies before you, and she seems very well disposed to reward your labour''I would not willingly give offence to any soul upon earth (answered Humphry); her ladyship has been very good to me, ever since we came to London; and surely she has a heart turned for religious exercises; and both she and lady Griskin sing psalms and hymns like two cherubimsBut, at the same time, I'm bound to love and obey your honourIt becometh not such a poor ignorant fellow as me, to hold dispute with gentlemen of rank and learningAs for the matter of knowledge, I am no more than a beast in comparison of your honour; therefore I submit; and, with God's grace, I will follow you to the world's end, if you don't think me too far gone to be out of confinement'. His master promised to keep him for some time longer on trial; then desired to know in what manner lady Griskin and Mr Barton came to join their religious society, he told him, that her ladyship was the person who first carried my aunt and sister to the Tabernacle, whither he attended them, and had his devotion kindled by Mr W's preaching: that he was confirmed in this new way, by the preacher's sermons, which he had bought and studied with great attention: that his discourse and prayers had brought over Mrs Jenkins and the housemaid to the same way of thinking; but as for Mr Barton, he had never seen him at service before this day, when he came in company with lady Griskin. Humphry, moreover, owned that he had been encouraged to mount the rostrum, by the example and success of a weaver, who was much followed as a powerful minister: that on his first trial he found himself under such strong impulsions, as made him believe he was certainly moved by the spirit; and that he had assisted in lady Griskin's, and several private houses, at exercises of devotion. Mr Bramble was no sooner informed, that her ladyship had acted as the primum mobile of this confederacy, than he concluded she had only made use of Clinker as a tool, subservient to the execution of some design, to the true secret of which he was an utter strangerHe observed, that her ladyship's brain was a perfect mill for projects; and that she and Tabby had certainly engaged in some secret treaty, the nature of which he could not comprehend. I told him I thought it was no difficult matter to perceive the drift of Mrs Tabitha, which was to ensnare the heart of Barton, and that in all likelihood my lady Griskin acted as her auxiliary: that this supposition would account for their endeavours to convert him to methodism; an event which would occasion a connexion of souls that might be easily improved into a matrimonial union. My uncle seemed to be much diverted by the thoughts of this Scheme's succeeding; but I gave him to understand, that Barton was preengaged: that he had the day before made a present of an etuis to Liddy, which her aunt had obliged her to receive, with a view, no doubt, to countenance her own accepting of a snuffbox at the same time; that my sister having made me acquainted with this incident, I had desired an explanation of Mr Barton, who declared his intentions were honourable, and expressed his hope that I would have no objections to his alliance; that I had thanked him for the honour he intended our family; but told him, it would be necessary to consult her uncle and aunt, who were her guardians; and their approbation being obtained, I could have no objection to his proposal; though I was persuaded that no violence would be offered to my sister's inclinations, in a transaction that so nearly interested the happiness of her future life: that he had assured me, he should never think of availing himself of a guardian's authority, unless he could render his addresses agreeable to the young lady herself; and that he would immediately demand permission of Mr and Mrs Bramble, to make Liddy a tender of his hand and fortune. The squire was not insensible to the advantages of such a match, and declared he would promote it with all his influence; but when I took notice that there seemed to be an aversion on the side of Liddy, he said he would sound her on the subject; and if her reluctance was such as would not be easily overcome, he would civilly decline the proposal of Mr Barton; for he thought that, in the choice of a husband a young woman ought not to sacrifice the feelings of her heart for any consideration upon earth'Liddy is not so desperate (said he) as to worship fortune at such an expence.' I take it for granted, this whole affair will end in smoke; though there seems to be a storm brewing in the quarter of Mrs Tabby, who sat with all the sullen dignity of silence at dinner, seemingly pregnant with complaint and expostulation. As she had certainly marked Barton for her own prey, she cannot possibly favour his suit to Liddy; and therefore I expect something extraordinary will attend his declaring himself my sister's admirer. This declaration will certainly be made in form, as soon as the lover can pick up resolution enough to stand the brunt of Mrs Tabby's disappointment; for he is, without doubt, aware of her designs upon his personThe particulars of the denouement you shall know in due season: mean while I am Always yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 10. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS, The deceitful calm was of short duration. I am plunged again in a sea of vexation, and the complaints in my stomach and bowels are returned; so that I suppose I shall be disabled from prosecuting the excursion I had plannedWhat the devil had I to do, to come a plague hunting with a leash of females in my train? Yesterday my precious sister (who, by the bye, has been for some time a professed methodist) came into my apartment, attended by Mr Barton, and desired an audience with a very stately air'Brother (said she), this gentleman has something to propose, which I flatter myself will be the more acceptable, as it will rid you of a troublesome companion.' Then Mr Barton proceeded to this effect'I am, indeed, extremely ambitious of being allied to your family, Mr Bramble, and I hope you will see no cause to interpose your authority.' 'As for authority (said Tabby, interrupting him with some warmth), I know of none that he has a right to use on this occasionIf I pay him the compliment of making him acquainted with the step I intend to take, it is all he can expect in reasonThis is as much as I believe he would do by me, if he intended to change his own situation in lifeIn a word, brother, I am so sensible of Mr Barton's extra ordinary merit, that I have been prevailed upon to alter my resolution of living a single life, and to put my happiness in his hands, by vesting him with a legal title to my person and fortune, such as they are. The business at present, is to have the writings drawn; and I shall be obliged to you, if you will recommend a lawyer to me for that purpose' You may guess what an effect this overture had upon me; who, from the information of my nephew, expected that Barton was to make a formal declaration of his passion for Liddy; I could not help gazing in silent astonishment, alternately at Tabby, and her supposed admirer, who last hung his head in the most aukward confusion for a few minutes, and then retired on pretence of being suddenly seized with a vertigoMrs Tabitha affected much concern, and would have had him make use of a bed in the house; but he insisted upon going home, that he might have recourse of some drops, which he kept for such emergencies, and his innamorata acquiescedIn the mean time I was exceedingly puzzled at this adventure (though I suspected the truth) and did not know in what manner to demean myself towards Mrs Tabitha, when Jery came in and told me, he had just seen Mr Barton alight from his chariot at lady Griskin's doorThis incident seemed to threaten a visit from her ladyship, with which we were honoured accordingly, in less than half an hour'I find (said she) there has been a match of cross purposes among you good folks; and I'm come to set you to rights'So saying, she presented me with the following billet 'DEAR SIR, I no sooner recollected myself from the extreme confusion I was thrown into, by that unlucky mistake of your sister, than I thought it my duty to assure you, that my devoirs to Mrs Bramble never exceeded the bounds of ordinary civility; and that my heart is unalterably fixed upon Miss Liddy Melford, as I had the honour to declare to her brother, when he questioned me upon that subjectLady Griskin has been so good as to charge herself, not only with the delivery of this note, but also with the task of undeceiving Mrs Bramble, for whom I have the most profound respect and veneration, though my affection being otherwise engaged is no longer in the power of Sir, Your very humble servant, RALPH BARTON.' Having cast my eyes over this billet, I told her ladyship, that I would no longer retard the friendly office she had undertaken: and I and Jery forthwith retired into another room. There we soon perceived the conversation grow very warm betwixt the two ladies; and, at length, could distinctly hear certain terms of altercation, which we could no longer delay interrupting, with any regard to decorum. When we entered the scene of contention, we found Liddy had joined the disputants, and stood trembling betwixt them, as if she had been afraid they would have proceeded to something more practical than words. Lady Griskin's face was like the full moon in a storm of wind, glaring, fiery, and portentous; while Tabby looked grim and ghastly, with an aspect breathing discord and dismay.Our appearance put a stop to their mutual revilings; but her ladyship turning to me, 'Cousin (said she) I can't help saying I have met with a very ungrateful return from this lady, for the pains I have taken to serve her family''My family is much obliged to your ladyship (cried Tabby, with a kind of hysterical giggle); but we have no right to the good offices of such an honourable gobetween.' 'But, for all that, good Mrs Tabitha Bramble (resumed the other), I shall be content with the reflection, That virtue is its own reward; and it shall not be my fault, if you continue to make yourself ridiculousMr Bramble, who has no little interest of his own to serve, will, no doubt, contribute all in his power to promote a match betwixt Mr Barton and his niece, which will be equally honourable and advantageous; and, I dare say, Miss Liddy herself will have no objection to a measure so well calculated to make her happy in life''I beg your ladyship's pardon (exclaimed Liddy, with great vivacity) I have nothing but misery to expect from such a measure; and I hope my guardians will have too much compassion, to barter my peace of mind for any consideration of interest or fortune''Upon my word, Miss Liddy! (said she) you have profited by the example of your good auntI comprehend your meaning, and will explain it when I have a proper opportunityIn the mean time, I shall take my leaveMadam, your most obedient, and devoted humble servant,' said she, advancing close up to my sister, and curtsying so low, that I thought she intended to squat herself down on the floorThis salutation Tabby returned with equal solemnity; and the expression of the two faces, while they continued in this attitude, would be no bad subject for a pencil like that of the incomparable Hogarth, if any such should ever appear again, in these times of dullness and degeneracy. Jery accompanied her ladyship to her house, that he might have an opportunity to restore the etuis to Barton, and advise him to give up his suit, which was so disagreeable to his sister, against whom, however, he returned much irritatedLady Griskin had assured him that Liddy's heart was preoccupied; and immediately the idea of Wilson recurring to his imagination, his familypride took the alarm. He denounced vengeance against the adventurer, and was disposed to be very peremptory with his sister; but I desired he would suppress his resentment, until I should have talked with her in private. The poor girl, when I earnestly pressed her on this head, owned with a flood of tears, that Wilson had actually come to the Hot Well at Bristol, and even introduced himself into our lodgings as a Jew pedlar; but that nothing had passed betwixt them, further than her begging him to withdraw immediately, if he had any regard for her peace of mind: that he had disappeared accordingly, after having attempted to prevail upon my sister's maid, to deliver a letter; which, however, she refused to receive, though she had consented to carry a message, importing that he was a gentleman of a good family; and that, in a very little time, he would avow his passion in that characterShe confessed, that although he had not kept his word in this particular, he was not yet altogether indifferent to her affection; but solemnly promised, she would never carry on any correspondence with him, or any other admirer, for the future, without the privity and approbation of her brother and me. By this declaration, she made her own peace with Jery; but the hotheaded boy is more than ever incensed against Wilson, whom he now considers as an impostor, that harbours some infamous design upon the honour of his familyAs for Barton he was not a little mortified to find his present returned, and his addresses so unfavourably received; but he is not a man to be deeply affected by such disappointments; and I know not whether he is not as well pleased with being discarded by Liddy, as he would have been with a permission to prosecute his pretensions, at the risque of being every day exposed to the revenge or machinations of Tabby, who is not to be slighted with impunity.I had not much time to moralize on these occurrences; for the house was visited by a constable and his gang, with a warrant from Justice Buzzard, to search the box of Humphry Clinker, my footman,who was just apprehended as a highwayman. This incident threw the whole family into confusion. My sister scolded the constable for presuming to enter the lodgings of a gentleman on such an errand, without having first asked, and obtained permission; her maid was frightened into fits, and Liddy shed tears of compassion for the unfortunate Clinker, in whose box, however, nothing was found to confirm the suspicion of robbery. For my own part, I made no doubt of the fellow's being mistaken for some other person, and I went directly to the justice, in order to procure his discharge; but there I found the matter much more serious than I expectedPoor Clinker stood trembling at the bar, surrounded by thieftakers; and at a little distance, a thick, squat fellow, a postilion, his accuser, who had seized him on the street, and swore positively to his person, that the said Clinker had, on the 15th day of March last, on Blackheath, robbed a gentleman in a postchaise, which he (the postilion) droveThis deposition was sufficient to justify his commitment; and he was sent accordingly to Clerkenwell prison, whither Jery accompanied him in the coach, in order to recommend him properly to the keeper, that he may want for no convenience which the place affords. The spectators, who assembled to see this highwayman, were sagacious enough to discern something very villainous in his aspect; which (begging their pardon) is the very picture of simplicity; and the justice himself put a very unfavourable construction upon some of his answers, which, he said, savoured of the ambiguity and equivocation of an old offender; but, in my opinion, it would have been more just and humane to impute them to the confusion into which we may suppose a poor country lad to be thrown on such an occasion. I am still persuaded he is innocent; and, in this persuasion, I can do no less than use my utmost endeavours that he may not be oppressedI shall, tomorrow, send my nephew to wait on the gentleman who was robbed, and beg; he will have the humanity to go and see the prisoner; that, in case he should find him quite different from the person of the highwayman, he may bear testimony in his behalfHowsoever it may fare with Clinker, this cursed affair will be to me productive of intolerable chagrinI have already caught a dreadful cold, by rushing into the open air from the justice's parlour, where I had been stewing in the crowd; and though I should not be laid up with the gout, as I believe I shall, I must stay at London for some weeks, till this poor devil comes to his trial at Rochester; so that, in all probability, my northern expedition is blown up. If you can find any thing in your philosophical budget, to console me in the midst of these distresses and apprehensions, pray let it be communicated to Your unfortunate friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 12. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WAT, The farce is finished, and another piece of a graver cast brought upon the stage.Our aunt made a desperate attack upon Barton, who had no other way of saving himself, but by leaving her in possession of the field, and avowing his pretensions to Liddy, by whom he has been rejected in his turn.Lady Griskin acted as his advocate and agent on this occasion, with such zeal as embroiled her with Mrs Tabitha, and a high scene of altercation passed betwixt these two religionists, which might have come to action, had not my uncle interposed. They are however reconciled, in consequence of an event which hath involved us all in trouble and disquiet. You must know, the poor preacher, Humphry Clinker, is now exercising his ministry among the felons in Clerkenwell prisonA postilion having sworn a robbery against him, no bail could be taken, and he was committed to jail, notwithstanding all the remonstrances and interest my uncle could make in his behalf. All things considered, the poor fellow cannot possibly be guilty, and yet, I believe, he runs some risque of being hanged. Upon his examination, he answered with such hesitation and reserve as persuaded most of the people, who crowded the place, that he was really a knave, and the justice's remarks confirmed their opinion. Exclusive of my uncle and myself, there was only one person who seemed inclined to favour the culprit.He was a young man, well dressed, and, from the manner in which he crossexamined the evidence, we took it for granted, that he was a student in one of the inns of court.He freely checked the justice for some uncharitable inferences he made to the prejudice of the prisoner, and even ventured to dispute with his worship on certain points of law. My uncle, provoked at the unconnected and dubious answers of Clinker, who seemed in danger of falling a sacrifice to his own simplicity, exclaimed, 'In the name of God, if you are innocent, say so.' 'No (cried he) God forbid that I should call myself innocent, while my conscience is burthened with sin.' 'What then, you did commit this robbery?' resumed his master. 'No, sure (said he) blessed be the Lord, I'm free of that guilt.' Here the justice interposed, observing, that the man seemed inclined to make a discovery by turning king's evidence, and desired the clerk to take his confession; upon which Humphry declared, that he looked upon confession to be a popish fraud, invented by the whore of Babylon. The Templar affirmed, that the poor fellow was non compos; and exhorted the justice to discharge him as a lunatic.'You know very well (added he) that the robbery in question was not committed by the prisoner.' The thieftakers grinned at one another; and Mr Justice Buzzard replied with great emotion, 'Mr Martin, I desire you will mind your own business; I shall convince you one of these days that I understand mine.' In short, there was no remedy; the mittimus was made out, and poor Clinker sent to prison in a hackneycoach, guarded by the constable, and accompanied by your humble servant. By the way, I was not a little surprised to hear this retainer to justice bid the prisoner to keep up his spirits, for that he did not at all doubt but that he would get off for a few weeks confinementHe said, his worship knew very well that Clinker was innocent of the fact, and that the real highwayman who robbed the chaise, was no other than that very individual Mr Martin, who had pleaded so strenuously for honest Humphry. Confounded at this information, I asked, 'Why then is he suffered to go about at his liberty, and this poor innocent fellow treated as a malefactor?' 'We have exact intelligence of all Mr Martin's transactions (said he); but as yet there is not evidence sufficient for his conviction; and as for this young man, the justice could do no less than commit him, as the postilion swore pointblank to his identity.' 'So if this rascally postilion should persist in the falsity to which he is sworn (said I), this innocent lad may be brought to the gallows.' The constable observed, that he would have time enough to prepare for his trial, and might prove an alibi; or, perhaps, Martin might be apprehended and convicted for another fact; in which case, he might be prevailed upon to take this affair upon himself; or, finally, if these chances should fail, and the evidence stand good against Clinker, the jury might recommend him to mercy, in consideration of his youth, especially if this should appear to be the first fact of which he had been guilty. Humphry owned he could not pretend to recollect where he had been on the day when the robbery was committed, much less prove a circumstance of that kind so far back as six months, though he knew he had been sick of the fever and ague, which, however, did not prevent him from going aboutthen, turning up his eyes, he ejaculated, 'The Lord's will be done! if it be my fate to suffer, I hope I shall not disgrace the faith of which, though unworthy, I make profession.' When I expressed my surprize that the accuser should persist in charging Clinker, without taking the least notice of the real robber who stood before him, and to whom, indeed, Humphry bore not the smallest resemblance; the constable (who was himself a thieftaker) gave me to understand, that Mr Martin was the best qualified for business of all the gentlemen on the road he had ever known; that he had always acted on his own bottom, without partner or correspondent, and never went to work but when he was cool and sober; that his courage and presence of mind never failed him; that his address was genteel, and his behaviour void of all cruelty and insolence; that he never encumbered himself with watches or trinkets, nor even with banknotes, but always dealt for ready money, and that in the current coin of the kingdom; and that he could disguise himself and his horse in such a manner, that, after the action, it was impossible to recognize either the one or the other'This great man (said he) has reigned paramount in all the roads within fifty miles of London above fifteen months, and has done more business in that time, than all the rest of the profession put together; for those who pass through his hands are so delicately dealt with, that they have no desire to give him the least disturbance; but for all that, his race is almost runhe is now fluttering about justice, like a moth about a candlethere are so many limetwigs laid in his way, that I'll bet a cool hundred, he swings before Christmas.' Shall I own to you, that this portrait, drawn by a ruffian, heightened by what I myself had observed in his deportment, has interested me warmly in the fate of poor Martin, whom nature seems to have intended for a useful and honourable member of that community upon which he now preys for subsistence? It seems, he lived some time as a clerk to a timbermerchant, whose daughter Martin having privately married, was discarded, and his wife turned out of doors. She did not long survive her marriage; and Martin, turning fortunehunter, could not supply his occasions any other way, than by taking to the road, in which he has travelled hitherto with uncommon success.He pays his respects regularly to Mr Justice Buzzard, the thiefcatchergeneral of this metropolis, and sometimes they smoke a pipe together very lovingly, when the conversation generally turns upon the nature of evidence.The justice has given him fair warning to take care of himself, and he has received his caution in good part.Hitherto he has baffled all the vigilance, art, and activity of Buzzard and his emissaries, with such conduct as would have done honour to the genius of a Caesar or a Turenne; but he has one weakness, which has proved fatal to all the heroes of his tribe, namely, an indiscreet devotion to the fair sex, and in all probability, he will be attacked on this defenceless quarter. Be that as it may, I saw the body of poor Clinker consigned to the gaoler of Clerkenwell, to whose indulgence I recommended him so effectually, that he received him in the most hospitable manner, though there was a necessity for equipping him with a suit of irons, in which he made a very rueful appearance. The poor creature seemed as much affected by my uncle's kindness, as by his own misfortune. When I assured him, that nothing should be left undone for procuring his enlargement, and making his confinement easy in the mean time, he fell down on his knees, and kissing my hand, which he bathed with his tears, '0 'squire! (cried he, sobbing) what shall I say?I can'tno, I can't speakmy poor heart is bursting with gratitude to you and my deardear generousnoble benefactor.' I protest, the scene became so pathetic, that I was fain to force myself away, and returned to my uncle, who sent me in the afternoon with a compliment to one Mr Mead, the person who had been robbed on Blackheath. As I did not find him at home, I left a message, in consequence of which he called at our lodgings this morning, and very humanely agreed to visit the prisoner. By this time, lady Griskin had come to make her formal compliments of condolance to Mrs Tabitha, on this domestic calamity; and that prudent maiden, whose passion was now cooled, thought proper to receive her ladyship so civilly, that a reconciliation immediately ensued. These two ladies resolved to comfort the poor prisoner in their own persons, and Mr Mead and I 'squired them to Clerkenwell, my uncle being detained at home by some slight complaints in his stomach and bowels. The turnkey, who received us at Clerkenwell, looked remarkably sullen; and when we enquired for Clinker, 'I don't care, if the devil had him (said he); here has been nothing but canting and praying since the fellow entered the place.Rabbit him! the tap will be ruinedwe han't sold a cask of beer, nor a dozen of wine, since he paid his garnishthe gentlemen get drunk with nothing but your damned religion.For my part, I believe as how your man deals with the devil.Two or three as bold hearts as ever took the air upon Hounslow have been blubbering all night; and if the fellow an't speedily removed by Habeas Corpus, or otherwise, I'll be damn'd if there's a grain of true spirit left within these walls we shan't have a soul to do credit to the place, or make his exit like a true born Englishmandamn my eyes! there will be nothing but snivelling in the cartwe shall all die like so many psalmsinging weavers.' In short, we found that Humphry was, at that very instant, haranguing the felons in the chapel; and that the gaoler's wife and daughter, together with my aunt's woman, Win Jenkins, and our housemaid, were among the audience, which we immediately joined. I never saw any thing so strongly picturesque as this congregation of felons clanking their chains, in the midst of whom stood orator Clinker, expatiating in a transport of fervor, on the torments of hell, denounced in scripture against evildoers, comprehending murderers, robbers, thieves, and whore mongers. The variety of attention exhibited in the faces of those ragamuffins, formed a groupe that would not have disgraced the pencil of a Raphael. In one, it denoted admiration; in another, doubt; in a third, disdain; in a fourth, contempt; in a fifth, terror; in a sixth, derision; and in a seventh, indignation.As for Mrs Winifred Jenkins, she was in tears, overwhelmed with sorrow; but whether for her own sins, or the misfortune of Clinker, I cannot pretend to say. The other females seemed to listen with a mixture of wonder and devotion. The gaoler's wife declared he was a saint in trouble, saying, she wished from her heart there was such another good soul, like him, in every gaol in England. Mr Mead, having earnestly surveyed the preacher, declared his appearance was so different from that of the person who robbed him on Blackheath, that he could freely make oath he was not the man: but Humphry himself was by this time pretty well rid of all apprehensions of being hanged; for he had been the night before solemnly tried and acquitted by his fellow prisoners, some of whom he had already converted to methodism. He now made proper acknowledgments for the honour of our visit, and was permitted to kiss the hands of the ladies, who assured him, he might depend upon their friendship and protection. Lady Griskin, in her great zeal, exhorted his fellowprisoners to profit by the precious opportunity of having such a saint in bonds among them, and turn over a new leaf for the benefit of their poor souls; and, that her admonition might have the greater effect, she reinforced it with her bounty. While she and Mrs Tabby returned in the coach with the two maidservants, I waited on Mr Mead to the house of justice Buzzard, who, having heard his declaration, said his oath could be of no use at present, but that he would be a material evidence for the prisoner at his trial; so that there seems to be no remedy but patience for poor Clinker; and, indeed, the same virtue, or medicine, will be necessary for us all, the squire in particular, who had set his heart upon his excursion to the northward. While we were visiting honest Humphry in Clerkenwell prison, my uncle received a much more extraordinary visit at his own lodgings. Mr Martin, of whom I have made such honourable mention, desired permission to pay him his respects, and was admitted accordingly. He told him, that having observed him, at Mr Buzzard's, a good deal disturbed by what had happened to his servant, he had come to assure him he had nothing to apprehend for Clinker's life; for, if it was possible that any jury could find him guilty upon such evidence, he, Martin himself, would produce in court a person, whose deposition would bring him off clear as the sun at noon.Sure, the fellow would not be so romantic as to take the robbery upon himself!He said, the postilion was an infamous fellow, who had been a dabbler in the same profession, and saved his life at the Old Bailey by impeaching his companions; that being now reduced to great poverty, he had made this desperate push, to swear away the life of an innocent man, in hopes of having the reward upon his conviction; but that he would find himself miserably disappointed, for the justice and his myrmidons were determined to admit of no interloper in this branch of business; and that he did not at all doubt but that they would find matter enough to shop the evidence himself before the next gaoldelivery. He affirmed, that all these circumstances were well known to the justice; and that his severity to Clinker was no other than a hint to his master to make him a present in private, as an acknowledgment of his candour and humanity. This hint, however, was so unpalatable to Mr Bramble, that he declared, with great warmth, he would rather confine himself for life to London, which he detested, than be at liberty to leave it tomorrow, in consequence of encouraging corruption in a magistrate. Hearing, however, how favourable Mr Mead's report had been for the prisoner, he is resolved to take the advice of counsel in what manner to proceed for his immediate enlargement. I make no doubt, but that in a day or two this troublesome business may be discussed; and in this hope we are preparing for our journey. If our endeavours do not miscarry, we shall have taken the field before you hear again from Yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 11 To Dr LEWIS. Thank Heaven! dear Lewis, the clouds are dispersed, and I have now the clearest prospect of my summer campaign, which, I hope, I shall be able to begin tomorrow. I took the advice of counsel with respect to the case of Clinker, in whose favour a lucky incident has intervened. The fellow who accused him, has had his own battery turned upon himself.Two days ago he was apprehended for a robbery on the highway, and committed, on the evidence of an accomplice. Clinker, having moved for a writ of habeas corpus, was brought before the lord chief justice, who, in consequence of an affidavit of the gentleman who had been robbed, importing that the said Clinker was not the person who stopped him on the highway, as well as in consideration of the postilion's character and present circumstances, was pleased to order, that my servant should be admitted to bail, and he has been discharged accordingly, to the unspeakable satisfaction of our whole family, to which he has recommended himself in an extraordinary manner, not only by his obliging deportment, but by his talents of preaching, praying, and singing psalms, which he has exercised with such effect, that even Tabby respects him as a chosen vessel. If there was any thing like affectation or hypocrisy in this excess of religion, I would not keep him in my service, but, so far as I can observe, the fellow's character is downright simplicity, warmed with a kind of enthusiasm, which renders him very susceptible of gratitude and attachment to his benefactors. As he is an excellent horseman, and understands farriery, I have bought a stout gelding for his use, that he may attend us on the road, and have an eye to our cattle, in case the coachman should not mind his business. My nephew, who is to ride his own saddlehorse, has taken, upon trial, a servant just come from abroad with his former master, Sir William Strollop, who vouches for his honesty. The fellow, whose name is Dutton, seems to be a petit maitre.He has got a smattering of French, bows, and grins, and shrugs, and takes snuff a la mode de France, but values himself chiefly upon his skill and dexterity in hairdressing.If I am not much deceived by appearance, he is, in all respects, the very contrast of Humphry Clinker. My sister has made up matters with lady Griskin; though, I must own, I should not have been sorry to see that connexion entirely destroyed: but Tabby is not of a disposition to forgive Barton, who, I understand, is gone to his seat in Berkshire for the summer season. I cannot help suspecting, that in the treaty of peace, which has been lately ratified betwixt those two females, it is stipulated, that her ladyship shall use her best endeavours to provide an agreeable helpmate for our sister Tabitha, who seems to be quite desperate in her matrimonial designs. Perhaps, the matchmaker is to have a valuable consideration in the way of brokerage, which she will most certainly deserve, if she can find any man in his senses, who will yoke with Mrs Bramble from motives of affection or interest. I find my spirits and my health affect each other reciprocally that is to say, every thing that discomposes my mind, produces a correspondent disorder in my body; and my bodily complaints are remarkably mitigated by those considerations that dissipate the clouds of mental chagrin.The imprisonment of Clinker brought on those symptoms which I mentioned in my last, and now they are vanished at his discharge.It must be owned, indeed, I took some of the tincture of ginseng, prepared according to your prescription, and found it exceedingly grateful to the stomach; but the pain and sickness continued to return, after short intervals, till the anxiety of my mind was entirely removed, and then I found myself perfectly at case. We have had fair weather these ten days, to the astonishment of the Londoners, who think it portentous. If you enjoy the same indulgence in Wales, I hope Barns has got my hay made, and safe cocked by this time. As we shall be in motion for some weeks, I cannot expect to hear from you as usual; but I shall continue to write from every place at which we make any halt, that you may know our track, in case it should be necessary to communicate any thing to Your assured friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 14. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall, c. DEAR MARY, Having the occasion of my cousin Jenkins of Aberga'ny, I send you, as a token, a turkeyshell comb, a kiple of yards of green ribbon, and a sarment upon the nothingness of good works, which was preached in the Tabernacle; and you will also receive a hornbuck for Saul, whereby she may learn her letters; for Fin much consarned about the state of her poor soleand what are all the pursuits of this life to the consarns of that immortal part?What is life but a veil of affliction? O Mary! the whole family have been in such a constipation!Mr Clinker has been in trouble, but the gates of hell have not been able to prevail again him. His virtue is like poor gould, seven times tried in the fire. He was tuck up for a rubbery, and had before gustass Busshard, who made his mittamouse; and the pore youth was sent to prison upon the false oaf of a willian, that wanted to sware his life away for the looker of cain. The 'squire did all in his power, but could not prevent his being put in chains, and confined among common manufactors, where he stood like an innocent sheep in the midst of wolves and tygers.Lord knows what mought have happened to this pyehouse young man, if master had not applied to Apias Korkus, who lives with the ould bailiff, and is, they say, five hundred years old (God bless us!), and a congeror: but, if he be, sure I am he don't deal with the devil, otherwise he couldn't have fought out Mr Clinker, as he did, in spite of stone walls, iron bolts, and double locks, that flew open at his command; for ould Scratch has not a greater enemy upon hearth than Mr Clinker, who is, indeed, a very powerful labourer in the Lord's vineyard. I do no more than yuse the words of my good lady, who has got the infectual calling; and, I trust, that even myself, though unworthy, shall find grease to be excepted.Miss Liddy has been touch'd to the quick, but is a little timorsome: howsomever, I make no doubt, but she, and all of us, will be brought, by the endeavours of Mr Clinker, to produce blessed fruit of generation and repentance.As for master and the young 'squire, they have as yet had narro glimpse of the new light.I doubt as how their harts are hardened by worldly wisdom, which, as the pyebill saith, is foolishness in the sight of God. O Mary Jones, pray without seizing for grease to prepare you for the operations of this wonderful instrument, which, I hope, will be exorcised this winter upon you and others at Brambletonhall. Tomorrow, we are to set out in a cox and four for Yorkshire; and, I believe, we shall travel that way far, and far, and farther than I can tell; but I shan't go so far as to forget my friends; and Mary Jones will always be remembered as one of them by her Humble sarvant, WIN. JENKINS LONDON, June 14. To Mrs GWYLLIM, housekeeper at Brambletonhall. MRS GWYLLIM, I can't help thinking it very strange, that I never had an answer to the letter I wrote you some weeks ago from Bath, concerning the sour bear, the gander, and the maids eating butter, which I won't allow to be wasted.We are now going upon a long journey to the north, whereby I desire you will redouble your care and circumflexion, that the family may be well managed in our absence; for, you know, you must render account, not only to your earthly master, but also to him that is above; and if you are found a good and faithful sarvant, great will be your reward in haven. I hope there will be twenty stun of cheese ready for marketby the time I get huom, and as much owl spun, as will make half a dozen pair of blankets; and that the savings of the buttermilk will fetch me a good penny before Martinmass, as the two pigs are to be fed for baking with bitchmast and acrons. I wrote to doctor Lews for the same porpuss, but he never had the good manners to take the least notice of my letter; for which reason, I shall never favour him with another, though he beshits me on his bended knees. You will do well to keep a watchful eye over the hind Villiams, who is one of his amissories, and, I believe, no better than he should be at bottom. God forbid that I should lack christian charity; but charity begins at huom, and sure nothing can be a more charitable work than to rid the family of such vermine. I do suppose, that the bindled cow has been had to the parson's bull, that old Moll has had another litter of pigs, and that Dick is become a mighty mouser. Pray order every thing for the best, and be frugal, and keep the maids to their labourIf I had a private opportunity, I would send them some hymns to sing instead of profane ballads; but, as I can't, they and you must be contented with the prayers of Your assured friend, T. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 14. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, The very day after I wrote my last, Clinker was set at liberty. As Martin had foretold, the accuser was himself committed for a robbery, upon unquestionable evidence. He had been for some time in the snares of the thieftaking society; who, resenting his presumption in attempting to incroach upon their monopoly of impeachment, had him taken up and committed to Newgate, on the deposition of an accomplice, who has been admitted as evidence for the king. The postilion being upon record as an old offender, the chief justice made no scruple of admitting Clinker to bail, when he perused the affidavit of Mr Mead, importing that the said Clinker was not the person that robbed him on Blackheath; and honest Humphry was discharged. When he came home, he expressed great eagerness to pay his respects to his master, and here his elocution failed him, but his silence was pathetic; he fell down at his feet and embraced his knees, shedding a flood of tears, which my uncle did not see without emotion. He took snuff in some confusion; and, putting his hand in his pocket, gave him his blessing in something more substantial than words'Clinker (said he), I am so well convinced, both of your honesty and courage, that I am resolved to make you my lifeguardman on the highway.' He was accordingly provided with a case of pistols, and a carbine to be flung across his shoulders; and every other preparation being made, we set out last Thursday, at seven in the morning; my uncle, with the three women in the coach; Humphry, well mounted on a black gelding bought for his use; myself ahorseback, attended by my new valet, Mr Dutton, an exceeding coxcomb, fresh from his travels, whom I have taken upon trialThe fellow wears a solitaire, uses paint, and takes rappee with all the grimace of a French marquis. At present, however, he is in a ridingdress, jackboots, leather breeches, a scarlet waistcoat, with gold binding, a laced hat, a hanger, a French postingwhip in his hand, and his hair en queue. Before we had gone nine miles, my horse lost one of his shoes; so that I was obliged to stop at Barnet to have another, while the coach proceeded at an easy pace over the common. About a mile short of Hatfield, the postilions, stopping the carriage, gave notice to Clinker that there were two suspicious fellows ahorseback, at the end of a lane, who semed waiting to attack the coach. Humphry forthwith apprised my uncle, declaring he would stand by him to the last drop of his blood; and unflinging his carbine, prepared for action. The 'squire had pistols in the pockets of the coach, and resolved to make use of them directly; but he was effectually prevented by his female companions, who flung themselves about his neck, and screamed in concertAt that instant, who should come up at a handgallop, but Martin, the highwayman, who, advancing to the coach, begged the ladies would compose themselves for a moment then, desiring Clinker to follow him to the charge, he pulled a pistol out of his bosom, and they rode up together to give battle to the rogues, who, having fired at a great distance, fled across the common. They were in pursuit of the fugitives when I came up, not a little alarmed at the shrieks in the coach, where I found my uncle in a violent rage, without his periwig, struggling to disentangle himself from Tabby and the other two, and swearing with great vociferation. Before I had time to interpose, Martin and Clinker returned from the pursuit, and the former payed his compliments with great politeness, giving us to understand, that the fellows had scampered off, and that he believed they were a couple of raw 'prentices from London. He commended Clinker for his courage, and said, if we would give him leave, he would have the honour to accompany us as far as Stevenage, where he had some business. The 'squire, having recollected and adjusted himself, was the first to laugh at his own situation: but it was not without difficulty, that Tabby's arms could be untwisted from his neck; Liddy's teeth chattered, and Jenkins was threatened with a fit as usual. I had communicated to my uncle the character of Martin, as it was described by the constable, and he was much struck with its singularityHe could not suppose the fellow had any design on our company, which was so numerous and well armed; he therefore thanked him, for the service he had just done them, said he would be glad of his company, and asked him to dine with us at Hatfield. This invitation might not have been agreeable to the ladies, had they known the real profession of our guest, but this was a secret to all, except my uncle and myself. Mrs Tabitha, however, would by no means consent to proceed with a case of loaded pistols in the coach, and they were forthwith discharged in complaisance to her and the rest of the women. Being gratified in this particular, she became remarkably goodhumoured, and at dinner behaved in the most affable manner to Mr Martin, with whose polite address and agreeable conversation she seemed to be much taken. After dinner, the landlord accosting me in the yard, asked with a significant look, if the gentleman that rode the sorrel belonged to our company?I understand his meaning, but answered no; that he had come up with us on the common, and helped us to drive away two fellows, that looked like highwaymenHe nodded three times distinctly, as much as to say, he knows his cue. Then he inquired, if one of those men was mounted on a bay mare, and the other on a chestnut gelding with a white streak down his forehead? and being answered in the affirmative, he assured me they had robbed three postchaises this very morningI inquired, in my turn, if Mr Martin was of his acquaintance; and, nodding thrice again, he answered, that he had seen the gentleman. Before we left Hatfield, my uncle, fixing his eyes on Martin with such expression as is more easily conceived than described, asked, if he often travelled that road? and he replied with a look which denoted his understanding the question, that he very seldom did business in that part of the country. In a word, this adventurer favoured us with his company to the neighbourhood of Stevenage, where he took his leave of the coach and me, in very polite terms, and turned off upon a crossroad, that led to a village on the leftAt supper, Mrs Tabby was very full in the praise of Mr Martin's goodsense and goodbreeding, and seemed to regret that she had not a further opportunity to make some experiment upon his affection. In the morning, my uncle was not a little surprised to receive, from the waiter a billet couched in these words 'SIR, I could easily perceive from your looks, when I had the honour to converse with you at Hatfield, that my character is not unknown to you; and, I dare say you won't think it strange, that I should be glad to change my present way of life, for any other honest occupation, let it be ever so humble, that will afford me bread in moderation, and sleep in safetyPerhaps you may think I flatter, when I say, that from the moment I was witness to your generous concern in the cause of your servant, I conceived a particular esteem and veneration for your person; and yet what I say is true. I should think myself happy, if I could be admitted into your protection and service, as housesteward, clerk, butler, or bailiff, for either of which places I think myself tolerably well qualified; and, sure I am, I should not be found deficient in gratitude and fidelityAt the same time, I am very sensible how much you must deviate from the common maxims of discretion, even in putting my professions to the trial; but I don't look upon you as a person that thinks in the ordinary stile; and the delicacy of my situation, will, I know, justify this address to a heart warmed with beneficence and compassionUnderstanding you are going pretty far north, I shall take an opportunity to throw myself in your way again, before you reach the borders of Scotland; and, I hope, by that time, you will have taken into consideration, the truly distressful case of, honoured sir, your very humble, and devoted servant, EDWARD MARTIN' The 'squire, having perused this letter, put it into my hand, without saying a syllable; and when I had read it we looked at each other in silence. From a certain sparkling in his eyes, I discovered there was more in his heart, than he cared to express with his tongue, in favour of poor Martin; and this was precisely my own feeling, which he did not fail to discern, by the same means of communication'What shall we do (said he) to save this poor sinner from the gallows, and make him a useful member of the commonwealth; and yet the proverb says, Save a thief from the gallows, and he'll cut your throat.' I told him I really believed Martin was capable of giving the proverb the lie; and that I should heartily concur in any step he might take in favour of his solicitation. We mutually resolved to deliberate upon the subject, and, in the mean time, proceeded on our journey. The roads, having been broken up by the heavy rains in the spring, were so rough, that although we travelled very slowly, the jolting occasioned such pain, to my uncle, that he was become exceedingly peevish when we arrived at this place, which lies about eight miles from the postroad, between Wetherby and Boroughbridge. Harrigatewater, so celebrated for its efficacy in the scurvy and other distempers, is supplied from a copious spring, in the hollow of a wild common, round which, a good many houses have been built for the convenience of the drinkers, though few of them are inhabited. Most of the company lodge at some distance, in five separate inns, situated in different parts of the commons, from whence they go every morning to the well, in their own carriages. The lodgers of each inn form a distinct society, that eat together; and there is a commodious public room, where they breakfast in disabille, at separate tables, from eight o'clock till eleven, as they chance or chuse to come inHere also they drink tea in the afternoon, and play at cards or dance in the evening. One custom, however, prevails, which I looked upon as a solecism in politeness. The ladies treat with tea in their turns; and even girls of sixteen are not exempted from this shameful impositionThere is a public ball by subscription every night at one of the houses, to which all the company from the others are admitted by tickets; and, indeed, Harrigate treads upon the heels of Bath, in the articles of gaiety and dissipationwith this difference, however, that here we are more sociable and familiar. One of the inns is already full up to the very garrets, having no less than fifty lodgers, and as many servants. Our family does not exceed thirtysix; and I should be sorry to see the number augmented, as our accommodations won't admit of much increase. At present, the company is more agreeable than one could expect from an accidental assemblage of persons, who are utter strangers to one anotherThere seems to be a general disposition among us to maintain goodfellowship, and promote the purposes of humanity, in favour of those who come hither on the score of health. I see several faces which we left at Bath, although the majority are of the Northern counties, and many come from Scotland for the benefit of these watersIn such a variety, there must be some originals, among whom Mrs Tabitha Bramble is not the most inconsiderableNo place where there is such an intercourse between the sexes, can be disagreeable to a lady of her views and temperamentShe has had some warm disputes at table, with a lame parson from Northumberland, on the new birth, and the insignificance of moral virtue; and her arguments have been reinforced by an old Scotch lawyer, in a rye periwig, who, though he has lost his teeth, and the use of his limbs, can still wag his tongue with great volubility. He has paid her such fulsome compliments, upon her piety and learning, as seem to have won her heart; and she, in her turn, treats him with such attention as indicates a design upon his person; but, by all accounts, he is too much of a fox to be inveigled into any snare that she can lay for his affection. We do not propose to stay long at Harrigate, though, at present, it is our headquarters, from whence we shall make some excursions, to visit two or three of our rich relations, who are settled in this country.Pray, remember me to all our friends of Jesus, and allow me to be still Yours affectionately, J. MELFORD HARRIGATE, June 23. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, Considering the tax we pay for turnpikes, the roads of this county constitute a most intolerable grievance. Between Newark and Weatherby, I have suffered more from jolting and swinging than ever I felt in the whole course of my life, although the carriage is remarkably commodious and well hung, and the postilions were very careful in driving. I am now safely housed at the New Inn, at Harrigate, whither I came to satisfy my curiosity, rather than with any view of advantage to my health; and, truly, after having considered all the parts and particulars of the place, I cannot account for the concourse of people one finds here, upon any other principle but that of caprice, which seems to be the character of our nation. Harrigate is a wild common, bare and bleak, without tree or shrub, or the least signs of cultivation; and the people who come to drink the water, are crowded together in paltry inns, where the few tolerable rooms are monopolized by the friends and favourites of the house, and all the rest of the lodgers are obliged to put up with dirty holes, where there is neither space, air, nor convenience. My apartment is about ten feet square; and when the folding bed is down, there is just room sufficient to pass between it and the fire. One might expect, indeed, that there would be no occasion for a fire at Midsummer; but here the climate is so backward, that an ash tree, which our landlord has planted before my window, is just beginning to put forth its leaves; and I am fain to have my bed warmed every night. As for the water, which is said to have effected so many surprising cures, I have drank it once, and the first draught has cured me of all desire to repeat the medicine.Some people say it smells of rotten eggs, and others compare it to the scourings of a foul gun.It is generally supposed to be strongly impregnated with sulphur; and Dr Shaw, in his book upon mineral water, says, he has seen flakes of sulphur floating in the wellPace tanti viri; I, for my part, have never observed any thing like sulphur, either in or about the well, neither do I find that any brimstone has ever been extracted from the water. As for the smell, if I may be allowed to judge from my own organs, it is exactly that of bilgewater; and the saline taste of it seems to declare that it is nothing else than salt water putrified in the bowels of the earth. I was obliged to hold my nose with one hand, while I advanced the glass to my mouth with the other; and after I had made shift to swallow it, my stomach could hardly retain what it had received.The only effects it produced were sickness, griping, and insurmountable disgust.I can hardly mention it without puking.The world is strangely misled by the affectation of singularity. I cannot help suspecting, that this water owes its reputation in a great measure to its being so strikingly offensive.On the same kind of analogy, a German doctor has introduced hemlock and other poisons, as specifics, into the materia medica.I am persuaded, that all the cures ascribed to the Harrigate water, would have been as efficaciously, and infinitely more agreeably performed, by the internal and external use of seawater. Sure I am, this last is much less nauseous to the taste and smell, and much more gentle in its operation as a purge, as well as more extensive in its medical qualities. Two days ago we went across the country to visit 'squire Burdock, who married a first cousin of my father, an heiress, who brought him an estate of a thousand ayear. This gentleman is a declared opponent of the ministry in parliament; and having an opulent fortune, piques himself upon living in the country, and maintaining old English hospitalityBy the bye, this is a phrase very much used by the English themselves both in words and writing; but I never heard of it out of the island, except by way of irony and sarcasm. What the hospitality of our forefathers has been I should be glad to see recorded, rather in the memoirs of strangers who have visited our country, and were the proper objects and judges of such hospitality, than in the discourse and lucubrations of the modern English, who seem to describe it from theory and conjecture. Certain it is, we are generally looked upon by foreigners, as a people totally destitute of this virtue; and I never was in any country abroad, where I did not meet with persons of distinction, who complained of having been inhospitably used in Great Britain. A gentleman of France, Italy, or Germany, who has entertained and lodged an Englishman at his house, when he afterwards meets with his guest at London, is asked to dinner at the Saracen'shead, the Turk'shead, the Boar'shead, or the Bear, eats raw beef and butter, drinks execrable port, and is allowed to pay his share of the reckoning. But to return from this digression, which my feeling for the honour of my country obliged me to makeour Yorkshire cousin has been a mighty foxhunter before the Lord; but now he is too fat and unwieldy to leap ditches and fivebar gates; nevertheless, he still keeps a pack of hounds, which are well exercised; and his huntsman every night entertains him with the adventures of the day's chace, which he recites in a tone and terms that are extremely curious and significant. In the mean time, his broad brawn is scratched by one of his grooms.This fellow, it seems, having no inclination to curry any beast out of the stable, was at great pains to scollop his nails in such a manner that the blood followed at every stroke.He was in hopes that he would be dismissed from this disagreeable office, but the event turned out contrary to his expectation.His master declared he was the best scratcher in the family; and now he will not suffer any other servant to draw a nail upon his carcase. The 'squire's lady is very proud, without being stiff or inaccessible. She receives even her inferiors in point of fortune with a kind of arrogant civility; but then she thinks she has a right to treat them with the most ungracious freedoms of speech, and never fails to let them know she is sensible of her own superior affluence. In a word, she speaks well of no living soul, and has not one single friend in the world. Her husband hates her mortally; but, although the brute is sometimes so very powerful in him that he will have his own way, he generally truckles to her dominion, and dreads, like a schoolboy, the lash of her tongue. On the other hand, she is afraid of provoking him too far, lest he should make some desperate effort to shake off her yoke.She, therefore, acquiesces in the proofs he daily gives of his attachment to the liberty of an English freeholder, by saying and doing, at his own table, whatever gratifies the brutality of his disposition, or contributes to the case of his person. The house, though large, is neither elegant nor comfortable.It looks like a great inn, crowded with travellers, who dine at the landlord's ordinary, where there is a great profusion of victuals and drink, but mine host seems to be misplaced; and I would rather dine upon filberts with a hermit, than feed upon venison with a hog. The footmen might be aptly compared to the waiters of a tavern, if they were more serviceable and less rapacious; but they are generally insolent and inattentive, and so greedy, that, I think, I can dine better, and for less expence, at the Star and Garter in Pall mall, than at our cousin's castle in Yorkshire. The 'squire is not only accommodated with a wife, but he is also blessed with an only son, about two and twenty, just returned from Italy, a complete fidler and dillettante; and he slips no opportunity of manifesting the most perfect contempt for his own father. When we arrived, there was a family of foreigners at the house, on a visit to this virtuoso, with whom they had been acquainted at the Spa; it was the count de Melville, with his lady, on their way to Scotland. Mr Burdock had met with an accident, in consequence of which both the count and I would have retired but the young gentleman and his mother insisted upon our staying dinner; and their serenity seemed to be so little ruffled by what had happened, that we complied with their invitation. The 'squire had been brought home over night in his postchaise, so terribly belaboured about the pate, that he seemed to be in a state of stupefaction, and had ever since remained speechless. A country apothecary, called Grieve, who lived in a neighbouring village, having been called to his assistance, had let him blood, and applied a poultice to his head, declaring, that he had no fever, nor any other bad symptom but the loss of speech, if he really had lost that faculty. But the young 'squire said this practitioner was an ignorantaccio, that there was a fracture in the cranium, and that there was a necessity for having him trepanned without loss of time. His mother, espousing this opinion, had sent an express to York for a surgeon to perform the operation, and he was already come with his 'prentice and instruments. Having examined the patient's head, he began to prepare his dressings; though Grieve still retained his first opinion that there was no fracture, and was the more confirmed in it as the 'squire had passed the night in profound sleep, uninterrupted by any catching or convulsion. The York surgeon said he could not tell whether there was a fracture, until he should take off the scalp; but, at any rate, the operation might be of service in giving vent to any blood that might be extravasated, either above or below the dura mater. The lady and her son were clear for trying the experiment; and Grieve was dismissed with some marks of contempt, which, perhaps, he owed to the plainness of his appearance. He seemed to be about the middle age, wore his own black hair without any sort of dressing; by his garb, one would have taken him for a quaker, but he had none of the stiffness of that sect, on the contrary he was very submissive, respectful, and remarkably taciturn. Leaving the ladies in an apartment by themselves, we adjourned to the patient's chamber, where the dressings and instruments were displayed in order upon a pewter dish. The operator, laying aside his coat and periwig, equipped himself with a nightcap, apron, and sleeves, while his 'prentice and footman, seizing the 'squire's head, began to place it in a proper posture.But mark what followed.The patient, bolting upright in the bed, collared each of these assistants with the grasp of Hercules, exclaiming, in a bellowing tone, 'I ha'n't lived so long in Yorkshire to be trepanned by such vermin as you;' and leaping on the floor, put on his breeches quietly, to the astonishment of us all. The Surgeon still insisted upon the operation, alleging it was now plain that the brain was injured, and desiring the servants put him into bed again; but nobody would venture to execute his orders, or even to interpose: when the 'squire turned him and his assistants out of doors, and threw his apparatus out at the window. Having thus asserted his prerogative, and put on his cloaths with the help of a valet, the count, with my nephew and me, were introduced by his son, and received with his usual stile of rustic civility; then turning to signor Macaroni, with a sarcastic grin, 'I tell thee what, Dick (said he), a man's scull is not to be bored every time his head is broken; and I'll convince thee and thy mother, that I know as many tricks as e'er an old fox in the West Riding.' We afterwards understood he had quarrelled at a public house with an exciseman, whom he challenged to a bout at single stick, in which he had been worsted; and that the shame of this defeat had tied up his tongue. As for madam, she had shewn no concern for his disaster, and now heard of his recovery without emotionShe had taken some little notice of my sister and niece, though rather with a view to indulge her own petulance, than out of any sentiment of regard to our family.She said Liddy was a fright, and ordered her woman to adjust her head before dinner; but she would not meddle with Tabby, whose spirit, she soon perceived, was not to be irritated with impunity. At table, she acknowledged me so far as to say she had heard of my father; though she hinted, that he had disobliged her family by making a poor match in Wales. She was disagreeably familiar in her enquiries about our circumstances; and asked, if I intended to bring up my nephew to the law. I told her, that, as he had an independent fortune, he should follow no profession but that of a country gentleman; and that I was not without hopes of procuring for him a seat in parliament'Pray cousin (said she), what may his fortune be?' When I answered, that, with what I should be able to give him, he would have better than two thousand a year, she replied, with a disdainful toss of her head, that it would be impossible for him to preserve his independence on such a paultry provision. Not a little nettled at this arrogant remark, I told her, I had the honour to sit in parliament with her father, when he had little more than half that income; and I believed there was not a more independent and incorruptible member in the house. 'Ay; but times are changed (cried the 'squire)Country gentlemen nowadays live after another fashion. My table alone stands me in a cool thousand a quarter, though I raise my own stock, import my own liquors, and have every thing at the first hand.True it is, I keep open house, and receive all corners, for the honour of Old England.' 'If that be the case (said I), 'tis a wonder you can maintain it at so small an expence; but every private gentleman is not expected to keep a caravanserai for the accommodation of travellers: indeed, if every individual lived in the same stile, you would not have such a number of guests at your table, of consequence your hospitality would not shine so bright for the glory of the West Riding.' The young 'squire, tickled by this ironical observation, exclaimed, 'O che burla!'his mother eyed me in silence with a supercilious air; and the father of the feast, taking a bumper of October, 'My service to you, cousin Bramble (said he), I have always heard there was something keen and biting in the air of the Welch mountains.' I was much pleased with the count de Melville, who is sensible, easy, and polite; and the countess is the most amiable woman I ever beheld. In the afternoon they took leave of their entertainers, and the young gentleman, mounting his horse, undertook to conduct their coach through the park, while one of their servants rode round to give notice to the rest, whom they had left at a public house on the road. The moment their backs were turned, the censorious daemon took possession of our Yorkshire landlady and our sister TabithaThe former observed, that the countess was a good sort of a body, but totally ignorant of good breeding, consequently aukward in her address. The squire said, he did not pretend to the breeding of any thing but colts; but that the jade would be very handsome, if she was a little more in flesh. 'Handsome! (cried Tabby) she has indeed a pair of black eyes without any meaning; but then there is not a good feature in her face.' 'I know not what you call good features in Wales (replied our landlord); but they'll pass in Yorkshire.' Then turning to Liddy, he added, 'What say you, my pretty Redstreak?what is your opinion of the countess?' 'I think (cried Liddy, with great emotion), she's an angel.' Tabby chid her for talking with such freedom in company; and the lady of the house said, in a contemptuous tone, she supposed miss had been brought up at some country boardingschool. Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by the young gentleman, who galloped into the yard all aghast, exclaiming, that the coach was attacked by a great number of highwaymen. My nephew and I rushed out, found his own and his servant's horse ready saddled in the stable, with pistols in the capsWe mounted instantly, ordering Clinker and Dutton to follow with all possible expedition; but notwithstanding all the speed we could make, the action was over before we arrived, and the count with his lady, safe lodged at the house of Grieve, who had signalized himself in a very remarkable manner on this occasion. At the turning of a lane, that led to the village where the count's servants remained, a couple of robbers ahorseback suddenly appeared, with their pistols advanced: one kept the coachman in awe, and the other demanded the count's money, while the young 'squire went off at full speed, without ever casting a look behind. The count desiring the thief to withdraw his pistol, as the lady was in great terror, delivered his purse without making the least resistance; but not satisfied with this booty, which was pretty considerable, the rascal insisted upon rifling her of her carrings and necklace, and the countess screamed with affright. Her husband, exasperated at the violence with which she was threatened, wrested the pistol out of the fellow's hand, and turning it upon him, snapped it in his face; but the robber knowing there was no charge in it, drew another from his bosom, and in all probability would have killed him on the spot, had not his life been saved by a wonderful interposition. Grieve, the apothecary, chancing to pass that very instant, ran up to the coach, and with a crabstick, which was all the weapon he had, brought the fellow to the ground with the first blow; then seizing his pistol, presented it at his colleague, who fired his piece at random, and fled without further opposition. The other was secured by the assistance of the count and the coachman; and his legs being tied under the belly of his own horse, Grieve conducted him to the village, whither also the carriage proceeded. It was with great difficulty the countess could be kept from swooning; but at last she was happily conveyed to the house of the apothecary, who went into the shop to prepare some drops for her, while his wife and daughter administered to her in another apartment. I found the count standing in the kitchen with the parson of the parish, and expressing much impatience to see his protector, whom as yet he had scarce found time to thank for the essential service he had done him and the countess.The daughter passing at the same time with a glass of water, monsieur de Melville could not help taking notice of her figure, which was strikingly engaging.'Ay (said the parson), she is the prettiest girl, and the best girl in all my parish: and if I could give my son an estate of ten thousand a year, he should have my consent to lay it at her feet. If Mr Grieve had been as solicitious about getting money, as he has been in performing all the duties of a primitive Christian, he would not have hung so long upon his hands.' 'What is her name?' said I. 'Sixteen years ago (answered the vicar) I christened her by the names of Seraphina Melvilia.' 'Ha! what! how! (cried the count eagerly) sure, you said Seraphina Melvilia.' 'I did (said he); Mr Grieve told me those were the names of two noble persons abroad, to whom he had been obliged for more than life.' The count, without speaking another syllable, rushed into the parlour, crying, 'This is your goddaughter, my dear.' Mrs Grieve, then seizing the countess by the hand, exclaimed with great agitation, 'O madam! O sir!I amI am your poor Elinor.This is my Seraphina Melvilia O child! these are the count and countess of Melville, the generous the glorious benefactors of thy once unhappy parents.' The countess rising from her scat threw her arms about the neck of the amiable Seraphina, and clasped her to her breast with great tenderness, while she herself was embraced by the weeping mother. This moving scene was completed by the entrance of Grieve himself, who falling on his knees before the count, 'Behold (said he) a penitent, who at length can look upon his patron without shrinking.' 'Ah, Ferdinand! (cried he, raising and folding him in his arms) the playfellow of my infancythe companion of my youth!Is it to you then I am indebted for my life?' 'Heaven has heard my prayer (said the other), and given me an opportunity to prove myself not altogether unworthy of your clemency and protection.' He then kissed the hand of the countess, while monsieur de Melville saluted his wife and lovely daughter, and all of us were greatly affected by this pathetic recognition. In a word, Grieve was no other than Ferdinand count Fathom, whose adventures were printed many years ago. Being a sincere convert to virtue, he had changed his name, that he might elude the enquiries of the count, whose generous allowance he determined to forego, that he might have no dependence but upon his own industry and moderation. He had accordingly settled in this village as a practitioner in surgery and physic, and for some years wrestled with all the miseries of indigence, which, however, he and his wife had borne with the most exemplary resignation. At length, by dint of unwearied attention to the duties of his profession, which he exercised with equal humanity and success, he had acquired tolerable share of business among the farmers and common people, which enabled him to live in a decent manner. He had been scarce ever seen to smile; was unaffectedly pious; and all the time he could spare from the avocations of his employment, he spent in educating his daughter, and in studying for his own improvement. In short, the adventurer Fathom was, under the name of Grieve, universally respected among the commonalty of this district, as a prodigy of learning and virtue. These particulars I learned from the vicar, when we quitted the room, that they might be under no restraint in their mutual effusions. I make no doubt that Grieve will be pressed to leave off business, and reunite himself to the count's family; and as the countess seemed extremely fond of his daughter, she will, in all probability, insist upon Seraphina's accompanying her to Scotland. Having paid our compliments to these noble persons, we returned to the 'squire's, where we expected an invitation to pass the night, which was wet and raw; but it seems, 'squire Burdock's hospitality reached not so far for the honour of Yorkshire; we therefore departed in the evening, and lay at an inn, where I caught cold. In hope of riding it down before it could take fast hold on my constitution, I resolved to visit another relation, one Mr Pimpernel, who lived about a dozen miles from the place where we lodged. Pimpernel being the youngest of four sons, was bred an attorney at Furnival's inn; but all his elder brothers dying, he got himself called to the bar for the honour of his family, and soon after this preferment, succeeded to his father's estate which was very considerable. He carried home with him all the knavish chicanery of the lowest pettifogger, together with a wife whom he had purchased of a drayman for twenty pounds; and he soon found means to obtain a dedimus as an acting justice of peace. He is not only a sordid miser in his disposition, but his avarice is mingled with a spirit of despotism, which is truly diabolical.He is a brutal husband, an unnatural parent, a harsh master, an oppressive landlord, a litigious neighbour, and a partial magistrate. Friends he has none; and in point of hospitality and good breeding, our cousin Burdock is a prince in comparison of this ungracious miscreant, whose house is the lively representation of a gaol. Our reception was suitable to the character I have sketched. Had it depended upon the wife, we should have been kindly treated.She is really a good sort of a woman, in spite of her low original, and well respected in the country; but she has not interest enough in her own house to command a draught of table beer, far less to bestow any kind of education on her children, who run about, like tagged colts, in a state of nature.Pox on him! he is such a dirty fellow, that I have not patience to prosecute the subject. By that time we reached Harrigate, I began to be visited by certain rheumatic symptoms. The Scotch lawyer, Mr Micklewhimmen, recommended a hot bath of these waters so earnestly, that I was overpersuaded to try the experiment.He had used it often with success and always stayed an hour in the bath, which was a tub filled with Harrigate water, heated for the purpose. If I could hardly bear the smell of a single tumbler when cold, you may guess how my nose was regaled by the streams arising from a hot bath of the same fluid. At night, I was conducted into a dark hole on the ground floor, where the tub smoaked and stunk like the pot of Acheron, in one corner, and in another stood a dirty bed provided with thick blankets, in which I was to sweat after coming out of the bath. My heart seemed to die within me when I entered this dismal bagnio, and found my brain assaulted by such insufferable effluvia. I cursed Micklewhimmen for not considering that my organs were formed on this side of the Tweed; but being ashamed to recoil upon the threshold, I submitted to the process. After having endured all but real suffocation for above a quarter of an hour in the tub, I was moved to the bed and wrapped in blankets.There I lay a full hour panting with intolerable heat; but not the least moisture appearing on my skin, I was carried to my own chamber, and passed the night without closing an eye, in such a flutter of spirits as rendered me the most miserable wretch in being. I should certainly have run distracted, if the rarefaction of my blood, occasioned by that Stygian bath, had not burst the vessels, and produced a violent haemorrhage, which, though dreadful and alarming, removed the horrible disquietI lost two pounds of blood, and more, on this occasion; and find myself still weak and languid; but, I believe, a little exercise will forward my recovery, and therefore I am resolved to set out tomorrow for York, in my way to Scarborough, where I propose to brace up my fibres by seabathing, which, I know, is one of your favourite specificks. There is, however, one disease, for which you have found as yet no specific, and that is old age, of which this tedious unconnected epistle is an infallible symptom: what, therefore, cannot be cured, must be endured, by you, as well as by Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE HARRIGATE, June 26. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, The manner of living at Harrigate was so agreeable to my disposition, that I left the place with some regretOur aunt Tabby would have probably made some objection to our departing so soon, had not an accident embroiled her with Mr Micklewhimmen, the Scotch advocate, on whose heart she had been practising, from the second day after our arrivalThat original, though seemingly precluded from the use of his limbs, had turned his genius to good accountIn short, by dint of groaning, and whining, he had excited the compassion of the company so effectually, that an old lady, who occupied the very best apartment in the house, gave it up for his case and convenience. When his man led him into the Long Room, all the females were immediately in commotionOne set an elbowchair; another shook up the cushion; a third brought a stool; and a fourth a pillow, for the accommodation of his feet Two ladies (of whom Tabby was always one) supported him into the diningroom, and placed him properly at the table; and his taste was indulged with a succession of delicacies, culled by their fair hands. All this attention he repaid with a profusion of compliments and benedictions, which were not the less agreeable for being delivered in the Scottish dialect. As for Mrs Tabitha, his respects were particularly addressed to her, and he did not fail to mingle them with religious reflections, touching free grace, knowing her bias to methodism, which he also professed upon a calvinistical model. For my part, I could not help thinking this lawyer was not such an invalid as he pretended to be. I observed he ate very heartily three times a day; and though his bottle was marked stomachic tincture, he had recourse to it so often, and seemed to swallow it with such peculiar relish, that I suspected it was not compounded in the apothecary's shop, or the chemist's laboratory. One day, while he was earnest in discourse with Mrs Tabitha, and his servant had gone out on some occasion or other, I dexterously exchanged the labels, and situation of his bottle and mine; and having tasted his tincture, found it was excellent claret. I forthwith handed it about me to some of my neighbours, and it was quite emptied before Mr Micklewhimmen had occasion to repeat his draught. At length, turning about, he took hold of my bottle, instead of his own, and, filling a large glass, drank to the health of Mrs Tabitha. It had scarce touched his lips, when he perceived the change which had been put upon him, and was at first a little out of countenance. He seemed to retire within himself, in order to deliberate, and in half a minute his resolution was taken; addressing himself to our quarter, 'I give the gentleman credit for his wit (said he); it was a gude practical joke; but sometimes hi joci in seria ducunt malaI hope for his own sake he has na drank all the liccor; for it was a vara poorful infusion of jallap in Bourdeaux wine; at its possable he may ha ta'en sic a dose as will produce a terrible catastrophe in his ain booels' By far the greater part of the contents had fallen to the share of a young clothier from Leeds, who had come to make a figure at Harrigate, and was, in effect a great coxcomb in his way. It was with a view to laugh at his fellowguests, as well as to mortify the lawyer, that he had emptied the bottle, when it came to his turn, and he had laughed accordingly: but now his mirth gave way to his apprehensionHe began to spit, to make wry faces, and writhe himself into various contorsions'Damn the stuff! (cried he) I thought it had a villainous twangpah! He that would cozen a Scot, mun get oope betimes, and take Old Scratch for his counsellor' 'In troth mester what d'ye ca'um (replied the lawyer), your wit has run you into a filthy puddleI'm truly consarned for your waeful caseThe best advice I can give you, in sic a delemma, is to send an express to Rippon for doctor Waugh, without delay, and, in the mean time, swallow all the oil and butter you can find in the hoose, to defend your poor stomach and intastines from the villication of the particles of the jallap, which is vara violent, even when taken in moderation.' The poor clothier's torments had already begun: he retired, roaring with pain, to his own chamber; the oil was swallowed, and the doctor sent for; but before he arrived, the miserable patient had made such discharges upwards and downwards, that nothing remained to give him further offence; and this double evacuation, was produced by imagination alone; for what he had drank was genuine wine of Bourdeaux, which the lawyer had brought from Scotland for his own private use. The clothier, finding the joke turn out so expensive and disagreeable, quitted the house next morning, leaving the triumph to Micklewhimmen, who enjoyed it internally without any outward signs of exultationon the contrary, he affected to pity the young man for what he had suffered; and acquired fresh credit from this shew of moderation. It was about the middle of the night, which succeeded this adventure, that the vent of the kitchen chimney being foul, the soot took fire, and the alarm was given in a dreadful manner. Every body leaped naked out of bed, and in a minute the whole house was filled with cries and confusionThere was two stairs in the house, and to these we naturally ran; but they were both so blocked up, by the people pressing one upon another, that it seemed impossible to pass, without throwing down and trampling upon the women. In the midst of this anarchy, Mr Micklewhimmen, with a leathern portmanteau on his back, came running as nimble as a buck along the passage; and Tabby in her underpetticoat, endeavouring to hook him under the arm, that she might escape through his protection, he very fairly pushed her down, crying, 'Na, na, gude faith, charity begins at hame!' Without paying the least respect to the shrieks and intreaties of his female friends, he charged through the midst of the crowd, overturning every thing that opposed him; and actually fought his way to the bottom of the StaircaseBy this time Clinker had found a ladder by which he entered the window of my uncle's chamber, where our family was assembled, and proposed that we should make our exit successively by that conveyance. The 'squire exhorted his sister to begin the descent; but, before she could resolve, her woman, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, in a transport of terror, threw herself out at the window upon the ladder, while Humphry dropped upon the ground, that he might receive her in her descentThis maiden was just as she had started out of bed, the moon shone very bright, and a fresh breeze of wind blowing, none of Mrs Winifred's beauties could possibly escape the view of the fortunate Clinker, whose heart was not able to withstand the united force of so many charms; at least I am much mistaken, if he has not been her humble slave from that momentHe received her in his arms, and, giving her his coat to protect her from the weather, ascended again with admirable dexterity. At that instant, the landlord of the house called out with an audible voice, that the fire was extinguished, and the ladies had nothing further to fear: this was a welcome note to the audience, and produced an immediate effect; the shrieking ceased, and a confused sound of expostulation ensued. I conducted Mrs Tabitha and my sister to their own chamber, where Liddy fainted away; but was soon brought to herself. Then I went to offer my services to the other ladies, who might want assistanceThey were all scudding through the passage to their several apartments; and as the thoroughfair was lighted by two lamps, I had a pretty good observation of them in their transit; but as most of them were naked to the smock, and all their heads shrowded in huge nightcaps, I could not distinguish one face from another, though I recognized some of their voicesThese were generally plaintive; some wept, some scolded, and some prayedI lifted up one poor old gentlewoman, who had been overturned and sore bruised by a multitude of feet; and this was also the case with the lame person from Northumberland, whom Micklewhimmen had in his passage overthrown, though not with impunity, for the cripple, in falling, gave him such a good pelt on the head with his crutch, that the blood followed. As for this lawyer, he waited below till the hurly burly was over, and then stole softly to his own chamber, from whence he did not venture to make a second sally till eleven in the forenoon, when he was led into the Public Room, by his own servant and another assistant, groaning most woefully, with a bloody napkin round his head. But things were greatly alteredThe selfish brutality of his behaviour on the stairs had steeled their hearts against all his arts and addressNot a soul offered to accommodate him with a chair, cushion, or footstool; so that he was obliged to sit down on a hard benchIn that position, he looked around with a rueful aspect, and, bowing very low, said in a whining tone, 'Your most humble servant, ladiesFire is a dreadful calamity''Fire purifies gold, and it ties friendship,' cried Mrs Tabitha, bridling. 'Yea, madam (replied Micklewhimmen); and it trieth discretion also''If discretion consists in forsaking a friend in adversity, you are eminently possessed of that virtue' (resumed our aunt).'Na, madam (rejoined the advocate), well I wot, I cannot claim any merit from the mode of my retreatYe'll please to observe, ladies, there are twa independent principles that actuate our natureOne is instinct, which we have in common with the brute creation, and the other is reasonNoo, in certain great emergencies, when the faculty of reason is suspended, instinct taks the lead, and when this predominates, having no affinity with reason, it pays no sort of regard to its connections; it only operates for the preservation of the individual, and that by the most expeditious and effectual means; therefore, begging your pardon, ladies, I'm no accountable in foro conscientioe for what I did, while under the influence of this irresistible pooer.' Here my uncle interposing, 'I should be glad to know (said he), whether it was instinct that prompted you to retreat with bag and baggage; for, I think, you had a portmanteau on your shoulder' The lawyer answered, without hesitation, 'Gif I might tell my mind freely, withoot incuring the suspicion of presumption, I should think it was something superior to either reason or instinct which suggested that measure, and this on a twafold accoont: in the first place, the portmanteau contained the writings of a worthy nobleman's estate; and their being burnt would have occasioned a loss that could not be repaired; secondly, my good angel seems to have laid the portmanteau on my shoulders, by way of defence, to sustain the violence of a most inhuman blow, from the crutch of a reverend clergyman, which, even in spite of that medium, hath wounded me sorely, even unto the pericranium.' 'By your own doctrine (cried the parson, who chanced to be present), I am not accountable for the blow, which was the effect of instinct.' 'I crave your pardon, reverend sir (said the other), instinct never acts but for the preservation of the individual; but your preservation was out of the caseyou had already received the damage, and therefore the blow must be imputed to revenge, which is a sinful passion, that ill becomes any Christian, especially a protestant divine; and let me tell you, most reverend doctor, gin I had a mind to plea, the law would hauld my libel relevant.' 'Why, the damage is pretty equal on both sides (cried the parson); your head is broke, and my crutch is snapt in the middle. Now, if you will repair the one, I will be at the expence of curing the other.' This sally raised the laugh against Micklewhimmen, who began to look grave; when my uncle, in order to change the discourse, observed, that instinct had been very kind to him in another respect; for it had restored to him the use of his limbs, which, in his exit, he had moved with surprising agility.He replied, that it was the nature of fear to brace up the nerves; and mentioned some surprising feats of strength and activity performed by persons under the impulse of terror; but he complained that in his own particular, the effects had ceased when the cause was taken awayThe 'squire said, he would lay a teadrinking on his head, that he should dance a Scotch measure, without making a false step; and the advocate grinning, called for the piperA fidler being at hand, this original started up, with his bloody napkin over his black tyeperiwig, and acquitted himself in such a manner as excited the mirth of the whole company; but he could not regain the good graces of Mrs Tabby, who did not understand the principle of instinct; and the lawyer did not think it worth his while to proceed to further demonstration. From Harrigate, we came hither, by the way of York, and here we shall tarry some days, as my uncle and Tabitha are both resolved to make use of the waters. Scarborough, though a paltry town, is romantic from its situation along a cliff that overhangs the sea. The harbour is formed by a small elbow of land that runs out as a natural mole, directly opposite to the town; and on that side is the castle, which stands very high, of considerable extent, and, before the invention of gunpowder, was counted impregnable. At the other end of Scarborough are two public rooms for the use of the company, who resort to this place in the summer to drink the waters and bathe in the sea; and the diversions are pretty much on the same footing here as at Bath. The Spa is a little way beyond the town, on this side, under a cliff, within a few paces of the sea, and thither the drinkers go every morning in dishabille; but the descent is by a great number of steps, which invalids find very inconvenient. Betwixt the well and the harbour, the bathing machines are ranged along the beach, with all their proper utensils and attendants. You have never seen one of these machinesImage to yourself a small, snug, wooden chamber, fixed upon a wheelcarriage, having a door at each end, and on each side a little window above, a bench belowThe bather, ascending into this apartment by wooden steps, shuts himself in, and begins to undress, while the attendant yokes a horse to the end next the sea, and draws the carriage forwards, till the surface of the water is on a level with the floor of the dressingroom, then he moves and fixes the horse to the other endThe person within being stripped, opens the door to the seaward, where he finds the guide ready, and plunges headlong into the waterAfter having bathed, he reascends into the apartment, by the steps which had been shifted for that purpose, and puts on his clothes at his leisure, while the carriage is drawn back again upon the dry land; so that he has nothing further to do, but to open the door, and come down as he went upShould he be so weak or ill as to require a servant to put off and on his clothes, there is room enough in the apartment for half a dozen people. The guides who attend the ladies in the water, are of their own sex, and they and the female bathers have a dress of flannel for the sea; nay, they are provided with other conveniences for the support of decorum. A certain number of the machines are fitted with tilts, that project from the seaward ends of them, so as to screen the bathers from the view of all persons whatsoeverThe beach is admirably adapted for this practice, the descent being gently gradual, and the sand soft as velvet; but then the machines can be used only at a certain time of the tide, which varies every day; so that sometimes the bathers are obliged to rise very early in the morningFor my part, I love swimming as an exercise, and can enjoy it at all times of the tide, without the formality of an apparatusYou and I have often plunged together into the Isis; but the sea is a much more noble bath, for health as well as pleasure. You cannot conceive what a flow of spirits it gives, and how it braces every sinew of the human frame. Were I to enumerate half the diseases which are every day cured by seabathing, you might justly say you had received a treatise, instead of a letter, from Your affectionate friend and servant, J. MELFORD SCARBOROUGH, July 1. To Dr LEWIS. I have not found all the benefit I expected at Scarborough, where I have been these eight daysFrom Harrigate we came hither by the way of York, where we stayed only one day to visit the Castle, the Minster and the Assemblyroom. The first, which was heretofore a fortress, is now converted to a prison, and is the best, in all respects, I ever saw, at home or abroadIt stands in a high situation, extremely well ventilated; and has a spacious area within the walls, for the health and convenience of all the prisoners except those whom it is necessary to secure in close confinement. Even these last have all the comforts that the nature of their situation can admit. Here the assizes are held, in a range of buildings erected for that purpose. As for the Minster, I know not how to distinguish it, except by its great size and the height of its spire, from those other ancient churches in different parts of the kingdom, which used to be called monuments of Gothic architecture; but it is now agreed, that this stile is Saracen rather than Gothic; and, I suppose, it was first imported into England from Spain, great part of which was under the dominion of the Moors. Those British architects who adopted this stile, don't seem to have considered the propriety of their adoption. The climate of the country, possessed by the Moors or Saracens, both in Africa and Spain, was so exceedingly hot and dry, that those who built places of worship for the multitude, employed their talents in contriving edifices that should be cool; and, for this purpose, nothing could be better adopted than those buildings, vast, narrow, dark, and lofty, impervious to the sunbeams, and having little communication with the scorched external atmosphere; but ever affording a refreshing coolness, like subterranean cellars in the heats of summer, or natural caverns in the bowels of huge mountains. But nothing could be more preposterous, than to imitate such a mode of architecture in a country like England, where the climate is cold, and the air eternally loaded with vapours; and where, of consequence, the builder's intention should be to keep the people dry and warmFor my part, I never entered the Abbey church at Bath but once, and the moment I stept over the threshold, I found myself chilled to the very marrow of my bones. When we consider, that in our churches, in general, we breathe a gross stagnated air, surcharged with damps from vaults, tombs, and charnelhouses, may we not term them so many magazines of rheums, created for the benefit of the medical faculty? and safely aver, that more bodies are lost, than souls saved, by going to church, in the winter especially, which may be said to engross eight months in the year. I should be glad to know, what offence it would give to tender consciences, if the house of God was made more comfortable, or less dangerous to the health of valetudinarians; and whether it would not be an encouragement to piety, as well as the salvation of many lives, if the place of worship was well floored, wainscotted, warmed, and ventilated, and its area kept sacred from the pollution of the dead. The practice of burying in churches was the effect of ignorant superstition, influenced by knavish priests, who pretended that the devil could have no power over the defunct if he was interred in holy ground; and this indeed, is the only reason that can be given for consecrating all cemeteries, even at this day. The external appearance of an old cathedral cannot be but displeasing to the eye of every man, who has any idea of propriety or proportion, even though he may be ignorant of architecture as a science; and the long slender spire puts one in mind of a criminal impaled with a sharp stake rising up through his shoulderThese towers, or steeples, were likewise borrowed from the Mahometans; who, having no bells, used such minarets for the purpose of calling the people to prayersThey may be of further use, however, for making observations and signals; but I would vote for their being distinct from the body of the church, because they serve only to make the pile more barbarous, or Saracenical. There is nothing of this Arabic architecture in the Assembly Room, which seems to me to have been built upon a design of Palladio, and might be converted into an elegant place of worship; but it is indifferently contrived for that sort of idolatry which is performed in it at present: the grandeur of the fane gives a diminutive effect to the little painted divinities that are adorned in it, and the company, on a ballnight, must look like an assembly of fantastic fairies, revelling by moonlight among the columns of a Grecian temple. Scarborough seems to be falling off, in point of reputation. All these places (Bath excepted) have their vogue, and then the fashion changes. I am persuaded, there are fifty spaws in England as efficacious and salutary as that of Scarborough, though they have not yet risen to fame; and, perhaps, never will, unless some medical encomiast should find an interest in displaying their virtues to the public viewBe that as it may, recourse will always be had to this place for the convenience of sea bathing, while this practice prevails; but it were to be wished, they would make the beach more accessible to invalids. I have here met with my old acquaintance, Hewett, whom you have often heard me mention as one of the most original characters upon earthI first knew him at Venice, and afterwards saw him in different parts of Italy, where he was well known by the nickname of Cavallo Bianco, from his appearing always mounted on a pale horse, like Death in the Revelations. You must remember the account I once gave you of a curious dispute he had at Constantinople, with a couple of Turks, in defence of the Christian religion; a dispute from which he acquired the epithet of DemonstratorThe truth is, Howns no religion but that of nature; but, on this occasion, he was stimulated to shew his parts, for the honour of his countrySome years ago, being in the Campidoglio at Rome, he made up to the bust of Jupiter, and, bowing very low, exclaimed in the Italian language, 'I hope, sir, if ever you get your head above water again, you will remember that I paid my respects to you in your adversity.' This sally was reported to the cardinal Camerlengo, and by him laid before pope Benedict XIV, who could not help laughing at the extravagance of the address, and said to the cardinal, 'Those English heretics think they have a right to go to the devil in their own way.' Indeed H was the only Englishman I ever knew, who had resolution enough to live in his own way, in the midst of foreigners; for, neither in dress, diet, customs, or conversation, did he deviate one tittle from the manner in which he had been brought up. About twelve years ago, he began a Giro or circuit, which he thus performedAt Naples, where he fixed his headquarters, he embarked for Marseilles, from whence he travelled with a Voiturin to AntibesThere he took his passage to Genoa and Lerici; from which last place he proceeded, by the way of Cambratina, to Pisa and FlorenceAfter having halted some time in this metropolis, he set out with a Vetturino for Rome, where he reposed himself a few weeks, and then continued his route for Naples, in order to wait for the next opportunity of embarkationAfter having twelve times described this circle, he lately flew off at a tangent to visit some trees at his countryhouse in England, which he had planted above twenty years ago, after the plan of the double colonnade in the piazza of St Peter's at RomeHe came hither to Scarborough, to pay his respects to his noble friend and former pupil, the M of G, and, forgetting that he is now turned of seventy, sacrificed so liberally to Bacchus, that next day he was seized with a fit of the apoplexy, which has a little impaired his memory; but he retains all the oddity of his character in perfection, and is going back to Italy by the way of Geneva, that he may have a conference with his friend Voltaire, about giving the last blow to the Christian superstitionHe intends to take shipping here for Holland or Hamburgh; for it is a matter of great indifference to him at what part of the continent he first lands. When he was going abroad the last time, he took his passage in a ship bound for Leghorn, and his baggage was actually embarked. In going down the river by water, he was by mistake put on board of another vessel under sail; and, upon inquiry understood she was bound to Petersburgh'Petersburgh,Petersburgh (said he) I don't care if I go along with you.' He forthwith struck a bargain with the captain; bought a couple of shirts of the mate, and was safe conveyed to the court of Muscovy, from whence he travelled by land to receive his baggage at LeghornHe is now more likely than ever to execute a whim of the same nature; and I will hold any wager, that as he cannot be supposed to live much longer, according to the course of nature, his exit will be as odd as his life has been extravagant. This gentleman crossed the sea to France, visited and conferred with Mr de Voltaire at Fernay, resumed his old circuit at Genoa, and died in 1767, at the house of Vanini in Florence. Being taken with a suppression of urine, he resolved, in imitation of Pomponius Atticus, to take himself off by abstinence; and this resolution he executed like an ancient Roman. He saw company to the last, cracked his jokes, conversed freely, and entertained his guests with music. On the third day of his fast, he found himself entirely freed of his complaint; but refused taking sustenance. He said the most disagreeable part of the voyage was past, and he should be a cursed fool indeed, to put about ship, when he was just entering the harbour. In these sentiments he persisted, without any marks of affectation, and thus finished his course with such case and serenity, as would have done honour to the firmest Stoic of antiquity. But, to return from one humourist to another, you must know I have received benefit, both from the chalybeate and the sea, and would have used them longer, had not a most ridiculous adventure, by making me the towntalk, obliged me to leave the place; for I can't bear the thoughts of affording a spectacle to the multitude Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, I went down to the bathingplace, attended by my servant Clinker, who waited on the beach as usualThe wind blowing from the north, and the weather being hazy, the water proved so chill, that when I rose from my first plunge, I could not help sobbing and bawling out, from the effects of the cold. Clinker, who heard me cry, and saw me indistinctly a good way without the guide, buffetting the waves, took it for granted I was drowning, and rushing into the sea, clothes and all, overturned the guide in his hurry to save his master. I had swam out a few strokes, when hearing a noise, I turned about and saw Clinker, already up to his neck, advancing towards me, with all the wildness of terror in his aspectAfraid he would get out of his depth, I made haste to meet him, when, all of a sudden, he seized me by one ear, dragged me bellowing with pain upon the dry beach, to the astonishment of all the people, men, and women, and children there assembled. I was so exasperated by the pain of my ear, and the disgrace of being exposed in such an attitude, that, in the first transport I struck him down; then, running back into the sea, took shelter in the machine where my clothes had been deposited. I soon recollected myself so far as to do justice to the poor fellow, who, in great simplicity of heart, had acted from motives of fidelity and affectionOpening the door of the machine, which was immediately drawn on shore, I saw him standing by the wheel, dropping like a waterwork, and trembling from head to foot; partly from cold, and partly from the dread of having offended his masterI made my acknowledgments for the blow he had received, assured him I was not angry, and insisted upon his going home immediately, to shift his clothes; a command which he could hardly find in his heart to execute, so well disposed was he to furnish the mob with further entertainment at my expence. Clinker's intention was laudable without all doubt, but, nevertheless, I am a sufferer by his simplicityI have had a burning heat, and a strange buzzing noise in that ear, ever since it was so roughly treated; and I cannot walk the street without being pointed at; as the monster that was hauled naked ashore upon the beachWell, I affirm that folly is often more provoking than knavery, aye and more mischievous too; and whether a man had not better choose a sensible rogue, than an honest simpleton for his servant, is no matter of doubt with Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE SCARBOROUGH, July 4. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WAT, We made a precipitate retreat from Scarborough, owing to the excessive delicacy of our 'squire, who cannot bear the thoughts of being proetereuntium digito monstratus. One morning, while he was bathing in the sea, his man Clinker took it in his head that his master was in danger of drowning; and, in this conceit, plunging into the water, he lugged him out naked on the beach, and almost pulled off his ear in the operation. You may guess how this atchievement was relished by Mr Bramble, who is impatient, irascible, and has the most extravagant ideas of decency and decorum in the oeconomy of his own personIn the first ebullition of his choler, he knocked Clinker down with his fist; but he afterwards made him amends for his outrage, and, in order to avoid further notice of the people, among whom this incident had made him remarkable, he resolved to leave Scarborough next day. We set out accordingly over the moors, by the way of Whitby, and began our journey betimes, in hopes of reaching Stockton that night; but in this hope we were disappointedIn the afternoon, crossing a deep gutter, made by a torrent, the coach was so hard strained, that one of the irons, which connect the frame, snapt, and the leather sling on the same side, cracked in the middle. The shock was so great, that my sister Liddy struck her head against Mrs Tabitha's nose with such violence that the blood flowed; and Win. Jenkins was darted through a small window in that part of the carriage next the horses, where she stuck like a bawd in the pillory, till she was released by the hand of Mr Bramble. We were eight miles distant from any place where we could be supplied with chaises, and it was impossible to proceed with the coach, until the damage should be repairedin this dilemma, we discovered a blacksmith's forge on the edge of a small common, about half a mile from the scene of our disaster, and thither the postilions made shift to draw the carriage, slowly, while the company walked afoot; but we found the blacksmith had been dead some days; and his wife, who had been lately delivered, was deprived of her senses, under the care of a nurse, hired by the parish. We were exceedingly mortified at this disappointment, which, however, was surmounted by the help of Humphry Clinker, who is a surprising compound of genius and simplicity. Finding the tools of the defunct, together with some coals in the smithy, he unscrewed the damaged iron in a twinkling, and, kindling a fire, united the broken pieces with equal dexterity and dispatchWhile he was at work upon this operation, the poor woman in the straw, struck with the wellknown sound of the hammer and anvil, started up, and, notwithstanding all the nurse's efforts, came running into the smithy, where, throwing her arms about Clinker's neck, 'Ah, Jacob (cried she) how could you leave me in such a condition?' This incident was too pathetic to occasion mirthit brought tears into the eyes of all present. The poor widow was put to bed again; and we did not leave the village without doing something for her benefitEven Tabitha's charity was awakened on this occasion. As for the tenderhearted Humphry Clinker, he hammered the iron and wept at the same timeBut his ingenuity was not confined to his own province of farrier and blacksmithIt was necessary to join the leather sling, which had been broke; and this service he likewise performed, by means of a broken awl, which he newpointed and ground, a little hemp, which he spun into lingels, and a few tacks which he made for the purpose. Upon the whole, we were in a condition to proceed in little more than an hour; but even this delay obliged us to pass the night at GisboroughNext day we crossed the Tees at Stockton, which is a neat agreeable town; and there we resolved to dine, with purpose to lie at Durham. Whom should we meet in the yard, when we alighted, but Martin the adventurer? Having handed out the ladies, and conducted them into an apartment, where he payed his compliments to Mrs Tabby, with his usual address, he begged leave to speak to my uncle in another room; and there, in some confusion, he made an apology for having taken the liberty to trouble him with a letter at Stevenage. He expressed his hope, that Mr Bramble had bestowed some consideration on his unhappy case, and repeated his desire of being taken into his service. My uncle, calling me into the room, told him, that we were both very well inclined to rescue him from a way of life that was equally dangerous and dishonourable; and that he should have no scruples in trusting to his gratitude and fidelity, if he had any employment for him, which he thought would suit his qualifications and his circumstances; but that all the departments he had mentioned in his letter, were filled up by persons of whose conduct he had no reason to complain; of consequence he could not, without injustice, deprive any one of them of his bread. Nevertheless, he declared himself ready to assist him in any feasible project, either with his purse or credit. Martin seemed deeply touched at this declarationThe tear started in his eye, while he said, in a faultering accent'Worthy siryour generosity oppresses meI never dreamed of troubling you for any pecuniary assistanceindeed I have no occasionI have been so lucky at billiards and betting in different places, at Buxton, Harrigate, Scarborough, and Newcastle races, that my stock in readymoney amounts to three hundred pounds, which I would willingly employ, in prosecuting some honest scheme of life; but my friend, justice Buzzard, has set so many springs for my life, that I am under the necessity of either retiring immediately to a remote part of the country, where I can enjoy the protection of some generous patron, or of quitting the kingdom altogether. It is upon this alternative that I now beg leave to ask your advice. I have had information of all your route, since I had the honour to see you at Stevenage; and, supposing you would come this way from Scarborough, I came hither last night from Darlington, to pay you my respects.' 'It would be no difficult matter to provide you with an asylum in the country (replied my uncle); but a life of indolence and obscurity would not suit with your active and enterprizing dispositionI would therefore advise you to try your fortune in the East IndiesI will give you a letter to a friend in London, who will recommend you to the direction, for a commission in the company's service; and if that cannot be obtained, you will at least be received as a volunteerin which case, you may pay for your passage, and I shall undertake to procure you such credentials, that you will not be long without a commission.' Martin embraced the proposal with great eagerness; it was therefore resolved, that he should sell his horse, and take a passage by sea for London, to execute the project without delayIn the mean time he accompanied us to Durham, were we took up our quarters for the night. Here, being furnished with letters from my uncle, he took his leave of us, with strong symptoms of gratitude and attachment, and set out for Sunderland, in order to embark in the first collier, bound for the river Thames. He had not been gone half an hour, when we were joined by another character, which promised something extraordinaryA tall, meagre figure, answering, with his horse, the description of Don Quixote mounted on Rozinante, appeared in the twilight at the inn door, while my aunt and Liddy stood at a window in the diningroomHe wore a coat, the cloth of which had once been scarlet, trimmed with Brandenburgs, now totally deprived of their metal, and he had holstercaps and housing of the same stuff and same antiquity. Perceiving ladies at the window above, he endeavoured to dismount with the most graceful air he could assume; but the ostler neglecting to hold the stirrup when he wheeled off his right foot, and stood with his whole weight on the other, the girth unfortunately gave way, the saddle turned, down came the cavalier to the ground, and his hat and perriwig falling off, displayed a headpiece of various colours, patched and plaistered in a woeful conditionThe ladies, at the window above, shrieked with affright, on the supposition that the stranger had received some notable damages in his fall; but the greatest injury he had sustained arose from the dishonour of his descent, aggravated by the disgrace of exposing the condition of his cranium; for certain plebeians that were about the door, laughed aloud, in the belief that the captain had got either a scald head, or a broken head, both equally opprobrious. He forthwith leaped up in a fury, and snatching one of his pistols, threatened to put the ostler to death, when another squall from the women checked his resentment. He then bowed to the window, while he kissed the buttend of his pistol, which he replaced; adjusted his wig in great confusion, and led his horse into the stableBy this time I had come to the door, and could not help gazing at the strange figure that presented itself to my view. He would have measured above six feet in height had he stood upright; but he stooped very much; was very narrow in the shoulders, and very thick in the calves of his legs, which were cased in black spatterdashesAs for his thighs, they were long and slender, like those of a grasshopper; his face was, at least, half a yard in length, brown and shrivelled, with projecting cheekbones, little grey eyes on the greenish hue, a large hooknose, a pointed chin, a mouth from ear to car, very ill furnished with teeth, and a high, narrow forehead, well furrowed with wrinkles. His horse was exactly in the stile of its rider; a resurrection of dry bones, which (as we afterwards learned) he valued exceedingly, as the only present he had ever received in his life. Having seen this favourite steed properly accommodated in the stable, he sent up his compliments to the ladies, begging permission to thank them in person for the marks of concern they had shewn at his disaster in the court yardAs the 'squire said they could not decently decline his visit, he was shewn up stairs and paid his respects in the Scotch dialect, with much formality 'Leddies (said he), perhaps ye may be scandaleezed at the appearance of my heed made, when it was uncovered by accident; but I can assure you, the condition you saw it in, is neither the effects of diseases, nor of drunkenness: but an honest scar received in the service of my country.' He then gave us to understand, that having been wounded at Ticonderoga, in America, a party of Indians rifled him, scalped him, broke his scull with the blow of a tomahawk, and left him for dead on the field of battle; but that being afterwards found with signs of life, he had been cured in the French hospital, though the loss of substance could not be repaired; so that the scull was left naked in several places, and these he covered with patches. There is no hold by which an Englishman is sooner taken than that of compassionWe were immediately interested in behalf of this veteran. Even Tabby's heart was melted; but our pity was warmed with indignation, when we learned, that in the course of two sanguinary wars, he had been wounded, maimed, mutilated, taken, and enslaved, without ever having attained a higher rank than that of lieutenantMy uncle's eyes gleamed, and his nether lip quivered, while he exclaimed, 'I vow to God, sir, your case is a reproach to the serviceThe injustice you have met with is so flagrant''I must crave your pardon, sir (cried the other, interrupting him), I complain of no injusticeI purchased an ensigncy thirty years ago; and, in the course of service rose to a lieutenant, according to my seniority''But in such a length of time (resumed the 'squire), you must have seen a great many young officers put over your head''Nevertheless (said he), I have no cause to murmurThey bought their preferment with their moneyI had no money to carry to market that was my misfortune; but no body was to blame''What! no friend to advance a sum of money?' (said Mr Bramble) 'Perhaps, I might have borrowed money for the purchase of a company (answered the other); but that loan must have been refunded; and I did not chuse to incumber myself with a debt of a thousand pounds, to be payed from an income of ten shillings aday.' 'So you have spent the best part of your life (cried Mr Bramble), your youth, your blood, and your constitution, amidst the dangers, the difficulties, the horrors and hardships of a war, for the consideration of three or four shillings aday a consideration' 'Sir (replied the Scot, with great warmth), you are the man that does me injustice, if you say or think I have been actuated by any such paltry considerationI am a gentleman; and entered the service as other gentlemen do, with such hopes and sentiments as honourable ambition inspiresIf I have not been lucky in the lottery of life, so neither do I think myself unfortunateI owe to no man a farthing; I can always command a clean shirt, a muttonchop, and a truss of straw; and when I die, I shall leave effects sufficient to defray the expence of my burial.' My uncle assured him, he had no intention to give him the least offence, by the observations he had made; but, on the contrary, spoke from a sentiment of friendly regard to his interestThe lieutenant thanked him with a stiffness of civility, which nettled our old gentleman, who perceived that his moderation was all affected; for, whatsoever his tongue might declare, his whole appearance denoted dissatisfactionIn short, without pretending to judge of his military merit, I think I may affirm, that this Caledonian is a selfconceited pedant, aukward, rude, and disputaciousHe has had the benefit of a schooleducation, seems to have read a good number of books, his memory is tenacious, and he pretends to speak several different languages; but he is so addicted to wrangling, that he will cavil at the clearest truths, and, in the pride of argumentation, attempt to reconcile contradictionsWhether his address and qualifications are really of that stamp which is agreeable to the taste of our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, or that indefatigable maiden is determined to shoot at every sort of game, certain it is she has begun to practice upon the heart of the lieutenant, who favoured us with his company to supper. I have many other things to say of this man of war, which I shall communicate in a post or two; mean while, it is but reasonable that you should be indulged with some respite from those weary lucubrations of Yours, J. MELFORD NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, July 10. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, In my last I treated you with a high flavoured dish, in the character of the Scotch lieutenant, and I must present him once more for your entertainment. It was our fortune to feed upon him the best part of three days; and I do not doubt that he will start again in our way before we shall have finished our northern excursion. The day after our meeting with him at Durham proved so tempestuous that we did not choose to proceed on our journey; and my uncle persuaded him to stay till the weather should clear up, giving him, at the same time, a general invitation to our mess. The man has certainly gathered a whole budget of shrewd observations, but he brings them forth in such an ungracious manner as would be extremely disgusting, if it was not marked by that characteristic oddity which never fails to attract the attentionHe and Mr Bramble discoursed, and even disputed, on different subjects in war, policy, the belles lettres, law, and metaphysics; and sometimes they were warmed into such altercation as seemed to threaten an abrupt dissolution of their society; but Mr Bramble set a guard over his own irascibility, the more vigilantly as the officer was his guest; and when, in spite of all his efforts, he began to wax warm, the other prudently cooled in the same proportion. Mrs Tabitha chancing to accost her brother by the familiar diminutive of Matt, 'Pray, sir (said the lieutenant), 'is your name Matthias?' You must know it is one of our uncle's foibles to be ashamed of his name Matthew, because it is puritanical; and this question chagrined him so much, that he answered, 'No, by Gd!' in a very abrupt tone of displeasure.The Scot took umbrage at the manner of his reply, and bristling up, 'If I had known (said he) that you did not care to tell your name, I should not have asked the questionThe leddy called you Matt, and I naturally thought it was Matthias:perhaps, it may be Methuselah, or Metrodorus, or Metellus, or Mathurinus, or Malthinnus, or Matamorus, or' 'No (cried my uncle laughing), it is neither of those, captain: my name is Matthew Bramble, at, your service.The truth is, have a foolish pique at the name of Matthew, because it favours of those canting hypocrites, who, in Cromwell's time, christened all their children by names taken from the scripture.' 'A foolish pique indeed. (cried Mrs Tabby), and even sinful, to fall out with your name because it is taken from holy writ.I would have you to know, you was called after greatuncle Matthew ap Madoc ap Meredith, esquire, of Llanwysthin, in Montgomeryshire, justice of the quorum, and crusty ruttleorum, a gentleman of great worth and property, descended in a strait line, by the female side, from Llewellyn, prince of Wales.' This genealogical anecdote seemed to make some impression upon the NorthBriton, who bowed very low to the descendant of Llewellyn, and observed that he himself had the honour of a scriptural nomination. The lady expressing a desire of knowing his address, he said, he designed himself Lieutenant Obadiah Lismahago; and in order to assist her memory, he presented her with a slip of paper inscribed with these three words, which she repeated with great emphasis, declaring, it was one of the most noble and sonorous names she had ever heard. He observed that Obadiah was an adventitious appellation, derived from his greatgrandfather, who had been one of the original covenanters; but Lismahago was the family surname, taken from a place in Scotland so called. Helikewise dropped some hints about the antiquity of his pedigree, adding, with a smile of selfdenial, Sed genus et proavos, et quoe non fecimus ipsi, vix ea nostra voco, which quotation he explained in deference to the ladies; and Mrs Tabitha did not fail to compliment him on his modesty in waving the merit of his ancestry, adding, that it was the less necessary to him, as he had such a considerable fund of his own. She now began to glew herself to his favour with the grossest adulation.She expatiated upon the antiquity and virtues of the Scottish nation, upon their valour, probity, learning, and politeness. She even descended to encomiums on his own personal address, his gallantry, good sense, and erudition.She appealed to her brother, whether the captain was not the very image of our cousin governor Griffith. She discovered a surprising eagerness to know the particulars of his life, and asked a thousand questions concerning his atchievements in war; all which Mr Lismahago answered with a sort of jesuitical reserve, affecting a reluctance to satisfy her curiosity on a subject that concerned his own exploits. By dint of her interrogations, however, we learned, that he and ensign Murphy had made their escape from the French hospital at Montreal, and taken to the woods, in hope of reaching some English settlement; but mistaking their route, they fell in with a party of Miamis, who carried them away in captivity. The intention of these Indians was to give one of them as an adopted son to a venerable sachem, who had lost his own in the course of the war, and to sacrifice the other according to the custom of the country. Murphy, as being the younger and handsomer of the two, was designed to fill the place of the deceased, not only as the son of the sachem, but as the spouse of a beautiful squaw, to whom his predecessor had been betrothed; but in passing through the different whigwhams or villages of the Miamis, poor Murphy was so mangled by the women and children, who have the privilege of torturing all prisoners in their passage, that, by the time they arrived at the place of the sachem's residence, he was rendered altogether unfit for the purposes of marriage: it was determined therefore, in the assembly of the warriors, that ensign Murphy should be brought to the stake, and that the lady should be given to lieutenant Lismahago, who had likewise received his share of torments, though they had not produced emasculation.A joint of one finger had been cut, or rather sawed off with a rusty knife; one of his great toes was crushed into a mash betwixt two stones; some of his teeth were drawn, or dug out with a crooked nail; splintered reeds had been thrust up his nostrils and other tender parts; and the calves of his legs had been blown up with mines of gunpowder dug in the flesh with the sharp point of the tomahawk. The Indians themselves allowed that Murphy died with great heroism, singing, as his death song, the Drimmendoo, in concert with Mr Lismahago, who was present at the solemnity. After the warriors and the matrons had made a hearty meal upon the muscular flesh which they pared from the victim, and had applied a great variety of tortures, which he bore without flinching, an old lady, with a sharp knife, scooped out one of his eyes, and put a burning coal in the socket. The pain of this operation was so exquisite that he could not help bellowing, upon which the audience raised a shout of exultation, and one of the warriors stealing behind him, gave him the coup de grace with a hatchet. Lismahago's bride, the squaw Squinkinacoosta, distinguished herself on this occasion.She shewed a great superiority of genius in the tortures which she contrived and executed with her own hands.She vied with the stoutest warrior in eating the flesh of the sacrifice; and after all the other females were fuddled with dramdrinking, she was not so intoxicated but that she was able to play the game of the platter with the conjuring sachem, and afterwards go through the ceremony of her own wedding, which was consummated that same evening. The captain had lived very happily with this accomplished squaw for two years, during which she bore him a son, who is now the representative of his mother's tribe; but, at length, to his unspeakable grief, she had died of a fever, occasioned by eating too much raw bear, which they had killed in a hunting excursion. By this time, Mr Lismahago was elected sachem, acknowledged first warrior of the Badger tribe, and dignified with the name or epithet of Occacanastaogarora, which signifies nimble as a weasel; but all these advantages and honours he was obliged to resign, in consequence of being exchanged for the orator of the community, who had been taken prisoner by the Indians that were in alliance with the English. At the peace, he had sold out upon half pay, and was returned to Britain, with a view to pass the rest of his life in his own country, where he hoped to find some retreat where his slender finances would afford him a decent subsistence. Such are the outlines of Mr Lismahago's history, to which Tabitha did seriously incline her ear;indeed, she seemed to be taken with the same charms that captivated the heart of Desdemona, who loved the Moor for the dangers he had past. The description of poor Murphy's sufferings, which threw my sister Liddy into a swoon, extracted some sighs from the breast of Mrs Tabby: when she understood he had been rendered unfit for marriage, she began to spit, and ejaculated, 'Jesus, what cruel barbarians!' and she made wry faces at the lady's nuptial repast; but she was eagerly curious to know the particulars of her marriagedress; whether she wore highbreasted stays or bodice, a robe of silk or velvet, and laces of Mechlin or minionetteshe supposed, as they were connected with the French, she used rouge, and had her hair dressed in the Parisian fashion. The captain would have declined giving a catagorical explanation of all these particulars, observing, in general, that the Indians were too tenacious of their own customs to adopt the modes of any nation whatsoever; he said, moreover, that neither the simplicity of their manners nor the commerce of their country, would admit of those articles of luxury which are deemed magnificence in Europe; and that they were too virtuous and sensible to encourage the introduction of any fashion which might help to render them corrupt and effeminate. These observations served only to inflame her desire of knowing the particulars about which she had enquired; and, with all his evasion, he could not help discovering the following circumstancesthat his princess had neither shoes, stockings, shift, nor any kind of linenthat her bridal dress consisted of a petticoat of red bays, and a fringed blanket, fastened about her shoulders with a copper skewer; but of ornaments she had great plenty.Her hair was curiously plaited, and interwoven with bobbins of human boneone eyelid was painted green, and the other yellow; the cheeks were blue, the lips white, the teeth red, and there was a black list drawn down the middle of the forehead as far as the tip of the nosea couple of gaudy parrot's feathers were stuck through the division of the nostrilsthere was a blue stone set in the chin, her earrings consisted of two pieces of hickery, of the size and shape of drumsticksher arms and legs were adorned with bracelets of wampumher breast glittered with numerous strings of glass beadsshe wore a curious pouch, or pocket of woven grass, elegantly painted with various coloursabout her neck was hung the fresh scalp of a Mohawk warrior, whom her deceased lover had lately slain in battleand, finally, she was anointed from head to foot with bear's grease, which sent forth a most agreeable odour. One would imagine that these paraphernalia would not have been much admired by a modern fine lady; but Mrs Tabitha was resolved to approve of all the captains connexions.She wished, indeed, the squaw had been better provided with linen; but she owned there was much taste and fancy in her ornaments; she made no doubt, therefore, that madam Squinkinacoosta was a young lady of good sense and rare accomplishments, and a good christian at bottom. Then she asked whether his consort had been high church or lowchurch, presbyterian or anabaptist, or had been favoured with any glimmering of the new light of the gospel? When he confessed that she and her whole nation were utter strangers to the christian faith, she gazed at him with signs of astonishment, and Humphry Clinker, who chanced to be in the room, uttered a hollow groan. After some pause, 'In the name of God, captain Lismahago (cried she), what religion do they profess?' 'As to religion, madam (answered the lieutenant), it is among those Indians a matter of great simplicitythey never heard of any Alliance between Church and State.They, in general, worship two contending principles; one the Fountain of all Good, the other the source of all evil. The common people there, as in other countries, run into the absurdities of superstition; but sensible men pay adoration to a Supreme Being, who created and sustains the universe.' 'O! what pity (exclaimed the pious Tabby), that some holy man has not been inspired to go and convert these poor heathens!' The lieutenant told her, that while he resided among them, two French missionaries arrived, in order to convert them to the catholic religion; but when they talked of mysteries and revelations, which they could neither explain nor authenticate, and called in the evidence of miracles which they believed upon hearsay; when they taught that the Supreme Creator of Heaven and Earth had allowed his only Son, his own equal in power and glory, to enter the bowels of a woman, to be born as a human creature, to be insulted, flagellated, and even executed as a malefactor; when they pretended to create God himself, to swallow, digest, revive, and multiply him ad infinitum, by the help of a little flour and water, the Indians were shocked at the impiety of their presumption.They were examined by the assembly of the sachems who desired them to prove the divinity of their mission by some miracle.They answered, that it was not in their power.'If you were really sent by Heaven for our conversion (said one of the sachems), you would certainly have some supernatural endowments, at least you would have the gift of tongues, in order to explain your doctrine to the different nations among which you are employed; but you are so ignorant of our language, that you cannot express yourselves even on the most trifling subjects.' In a word, the assembly were convinced of their being cheats, and even suspected them of being spies: they ordered them a bag of Indian corn apiece, and appointed a guide to conduct them to the frontiers; but the missionaries having more zeal than discretion, refused to quit the vineyard.They persisted in saying mass, in preaching, baptizing, and squabbling with the conjurers, or priests of the country, till they had thrown the whole community into confusion.Then the assembly proceeded to try them as impious impostors, who represented the Almighty as a trifling, weak, capricious being, and pretended to make, unmake, and reproduce him at pleasure; they were, therefore, convicted of blasphemy and sedition, and condemned to the stale, where they died singing Salve regina, in a rapture of joy, for the crown of martyrdom which they had thus obtained. In the course of this conversation, lieutenant Lismahago dropt some hints by which it appeared he himself was a freethinker. Our aunt seemed to be startled at certain sarcasms he threw out against the creed of saint AthanasiusHe dwelt much upon the words, reason, philosophy, and contradiction in termshe bid defiance to the eternity of hellfire; and even threw such squibs at the immortality of the soul, as singed a little the whiskers of Mrs Tabitha's faith; for, by this time she began to look upon Lismahago as a prodigy of learning and sagacity.In short, he could be no longer insensible to the advances she made towards his affection; and although there was something repulsive in his nature, he overcame it so far as to make some return to her civilities.Perhaps, he thought it would be no bad scheme, in a superannuated lieutenant on halfpay, to effect a conjunction with an old maid, who, in all probability, had fortune enough to keep him easy and comfortable in the fagend of his daysAn ogling correspondence forthwith commenced between this amiable pair of originalsHe began to sweeten the natural acidity of his discourse with the treacle of compliment and commendationHe from time to time offered her snuff, of which he himself took great quantities, and even made her a present of a purse of silk grass, woven by the hands of the amiable Squinkinacoosta, who had used it as a shotpouch in her hunting expeditions. From Doncaster northwards, all the windows of all the inns are scrawled with doggeral rhimes, in abuse of the Scotch nation; and what surprised me very much, I did not perceive one line written in the way of recriminationCurious to hear what Lismahago would say on this subject, I pointed out to him a very scurrilous epigram against his countrymen, which was engraved on one of the windows of the parlour where we sat.He read it with the most starched composure; and when I asked his opinion of the poetry, 'It is vara terse and vara poignant (said he); but with the help of a wat dishclout, it might be rendered more clear and parspicuous.I marvel much that some modern wit has not published a collection of these essays under the title of the Glaziers Triumph over Sawney the ScotI'm persuaded it would be a vara agreeable offering to the patriots of London and Westminster.' When I expressed some surprize that the natives of Scotland, who travel this way, had not broke all the windows upon the road, 'With submission (replied the lieutenant), that were but shallow policyit would only serve to make the satire more cutting and severe; and I think it is much better to let it stand in the window, than have it presented in the reckoning.' My uncle's jaws began to quiver with indignation.He said, the scribblers of such infamous stuff deserved to be scourged at the cart's tail for disgracing their country with such monuments of malice and stupidity.'These vermin (said he) do not consider, that they are affording their fellow subjects, whom they abuse, continual matter of selfgratulation, as well as the means of executing the most manly vengeance that can be taken for such low, illiberal attacks. For my part, I admire the philosophic forbearance of the Scots, as much as I despise the insolence of those wretched libellers, which is akin to the arrogance of the village cock, who never crows but upon his own dunghill.' The captain, with an affectation of candour, observed, that men of illiberal minds were produced in every soil; that in supposing those were the sentiments of the English in general, he should pay too great a compliment to is own country, which was not of consequence enough to attract the envy of such a flourishing and powerful people. Mrs Tabby broke forth again in praise of his moderation, and declared that Scotland was the soil which produced every virtue under heaven. When Lismahago took his leave for the night, she asked her brother if the captain was not the prettiest gentleman he had ever seen; and whether there was not something wonderfully engaging in his aspect?Mr Bramble having eyed her sometime in silence, 'Sister (said he), the lieutenant is, for aught I know, an honest man and a good officerhe has a considerable share of understanding, and a title to more encouragement than he seems to have met with in life; but I cannot, with a safe conscience, affirm, that he is the prettiest gentleman I ever saw; neither can I descern any engaging charm in his countenance, which, I vow to God, is, on the contrary, very hardfavoured and forbidding.' I have endeavoured to ingratiate myself with this NorthBriton, who is really a curiosity; but he has been very shy of my conversation ever since I laughed at his asserting that the English tongue was spoke with more propriety at Edinburgh than at London. Looking at me with a double squeeze of souring in his aspect, 'If the old definition be true (said he), that risibility is the distinguishing characteristic of a rational creature, the English are the most distinguished for rationality of any people I ever knew.' I owned, that the English were easily struck with any thing that appeared ludicrous, and apt to laugh accordingly; but it did not follow, that, because they were more given to laughter, they had more rationality than their neighbours: I said, such an inference would be an injury to the Scots, who were by no means defective in rationality, though generally supposed little subject to the impressions of humour. The captain answered, that this supposition must have been deduced either from their conversation or their compositions, of which the English could not possibly judge with precision, as they did not understand the dialect used by the Scots in common discourse, as well as in their works of humour. When I desired to know what those works of humour were, he mentioned a considerable number of pieces, which he insisted were equal in point of humour to any thing extant in any language dead or livingHe, in particular, recommended a collection of detached poems, in two small volumes, intituled, The EverGreen, and the works of Allan Ramsay, which I intend to provide myself with at Edinburgh.He observed, that a NorthBriton is seen to a disadvantage in an English company, because he speaks in a dialect that they can't relish, and in a phraseology which they don't understand.He therefore finds himself under a restraint, which is a great enemy to wit and humour.These are faculties which never appear in full lustre, but when the mind is perfectly at ease, and, as an excellent writer says, enjoys her elbowroom. He proceeded to explain his assertion that the English language was spoken with greater propriety at Edinburgh than in London. He said, what we generally called the Scottish dialect was, in fact, true, genuine old English, with a mixture of some French terms and idioms, adopted in a long intercourse betwixt the French and Scotch nations; that the modern English, from affectation and false refinement, had weakened, and even corrupted their language, by throwing out the guttural sounds, altering the pronunciation and the quantity, and disusing many words and terms of great significance. In consequence of these innovations, the works of our best poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, and even Shakespeare, were become, in many parts, unintelligible to the natives of South Britain, whereas the Scots, who retain the antient language, understand them without the help of a glossary. 'For instance (said he), how have your commentators been puzzled by the following expression in the TempestHe's gentle and not fearful: as if it was a paralogism to say, that being gentle, he must of course be courageous: but the truth is, one of the original meanings, if not the sole meaning, of that word was, noble, highminded; and to this day, a Scotch woman, in the situation of the young lady in the Tempest, would express herself nearly in the same termsDon't provoke him; for being gentle, that is, highspirited, he won't tamely bear an insult. Spenser, in the very first stanza of his Fairy Queen, says, A gentle knight was pricking on the plain; Which knight, far from being tame and fearful, was so stout that Nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. To prove that we had impaired the energy of our language by false refinement, he mentioned the following words, which, though widely different in signification, are pronounced exactly in the same manner wright, write, right, rite; but among the Scots, these words are as different in pronunciation, as they are in meaning and orthography; and this is the case with many others which he mentioned by way of illustration.He, moreover, took notice, that we had (for what reason he could never learn) altered the sound of our vowels from that which is retained by all the nations in Europe; an alteration which rendered the language extremely difficult to foreigners, and made it almost impracticable to lay down general rules for orthography and pronunciation. Besides, the vowels were no longer simple sounds in the mouth of an Englishman, who pronounced both i and u as dipthongs. Finally, he affirmed, that we mumbled our speech with our lips and teeth, and ran the words together without pause or distinction, in such a manner, that a foreigner, though he understood English tolerably well, was often obliged to have recourse to a Scotchman to explain what a native of England had said in his own language. The truth of this remark was confirmed by Mr Bramble from his own experience; but he accounted for it on another principle. He said, the same observation would hold in all languages; that a Swiss talking French was more easily understood than a Parisian, by a foreigner who had not made himself master of the language; because every language had its peculiar recitative, and it would always require more pains, attention, and practice, to acquire both the words and the music, than to learn the words only; and yet no body would deny, that the one was imperfect without the other: he therefore apprehended, that the Scotchman and the Swiss were better understood by learners, because they spoke the words only, without the music, which they could not rehearse. One would imagine this check might have damped the North Briton; but it served only to agitate his humour for disputation.He said, if every nation had its own recitative or music, the Scots had theirs, and the Scotchman who had not yet acquired the cadence of the English, would naturally use his own in speaking their language; therefore, if he was better understood than the native, his recitative must be more intelligible than that of the English; of consequence, the dialect of the Scots had an advantage over that of their fellowsubjects, and this was another strong presumption that the modern English had corrupted their language in the article of pronunciation. The lieutenant was, by this time, become so polemical, that every time he opened his mouth out flew a paradox, which he maintained with all the enthusiasm of altercation; but all his paradoxes favoured strong of a partiality for his own country. He undertook to prove that poverty was a blessing to a nation; that oatmeal was preferable to wheatflour; and that the worship of Cloacina, in temples which admitted both sexes, and every rank of votaries promiscuously, was a filthy species of idolatry that outraged every idea of delicacy and decorum. I did not so much wonder at his broaching these doctrines, as at the arguments, equally whimsical and ingenious, which he adduced in support of them. In fine, lieutenant Lismahago is a curiosity which I have not yet sufficiently perused; and therefore I shall be sorry when we lose his company, though, God knows, there is nothing very amiable in his manner or disposition.As he goes directly to the southwest division of Scotland, and we proceed in the road to Berwick, we shall part tomorrow at a place called Feltonbridge; and, I dare say, this separation will be very grievous to our aunt Mrs Tabitha, unless she has received some flattering assurance of his meeting her again. If I fail in my purpose of entertaining you with these unimportant occurrences, they will at least serve as exercises of patience, for which you are indebted to Yours always, J. MELFORD MORPETH, July 13. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, I have now reached the northern extremity of England, and see, close to my chamberwindow, the Tweed gliding through the arches of that bridge which connects this suburb to the town of Berwick.Yorkshire you have seen, and therefore I shall say nothing of that opulent province. The city of Durham appears like a confused heap of stones and brick, accumulated so as to cover a mountain, round which a river winds its brawling course. The Streets are generally narrow, dark, and unpleasant, and many of them almost impassible in consequence of their declivity. The cathedral is a huge gloomy pile; but the clergy are well lodged. The bishop lives in a princely mannerthe golden prebends keep plentiful tablesand, I am told, there is some good sociable company in the place; but the country, when viewed from the top of GatesheadFell, which extends to Newcastle, exhibits the highest scene of cultivation that ever I beheld. As for Newcastle, it lies mostly in a bottom, on the banks of the Tyne, and makes an appearance still more disagreeable than that of Durham; but it is rendered populous and rich by industry and commerce; and the country lying on both sides the river, above the town, yields a delightful prospect of agriculture and plantation. Morpeth and Alnwick are neat, pretty towns, and this last is famous for the castle which has belonged so many ages to the noble house of Piercy, earls of Northumberland.It is, doubtless, a large edifice, containing a great number of apartments, and stands in a commanding situation; but the strength of it seems to have consisted not so much in its site, or the manner in which it is fortified, as in the valour of its defendants. Our adventures since we left Scarborough, are scarce worth reciting; and yet I must make you acquainted with my sister Tabby's progress in husbandhunting, after her disappointments at Bath and London. She had actually begun to practise upon a certain adventurer, who was in fact a highwayman by profession; but he had been used to snares much more dangerous than any she could lay, and escaped accordingly. Then she opened her batteries upon an old weatherbeaten Scotch lieutenant, called Lismahago, who joined us at Durham, and is, I think, one of the most singular personages I ever encounteredHis manner is as harsh as his countenance; but his peculiar turn of thinking, and his pack of knowledge made up of the remnants of rarities, rendered his conversation desirable, in spite of his pedantry and ungracious address. I have often met with a crabapple in a hedge, which I have been tempted to eat for its flavour, even while I was disgusted by its austerity. The spirit of contradiction is naturally so strong in Lismahago, that I believe in my conscience he has rummaged, and read, and studied with indefatigable attention, in order to qualify himself to refute established maxims, and thus raise trophies for the gratification of polemical pride.Such is the asperity of his selfconceit, that he will not even acquiesce in a transient compliment made to his own individual in particular, or to his country in general. When I observed, that he must have read a vast number of books to be able to discourse on such a variety of subjects, he declared he had read little or nothing, and asked how he should find books among the woods of America, where he had spent the greatest part of his life. My nephew remarking that the Scots in general were famous for their learning, he denied the imputation, and defied him to prove it from their works'The Scots (said he) have a slight tincture of letters, with which they make a parade among people who are more illiterate than themselves; but they may be said to float on the surface of science, and they have made very small advances in the useful arts.' 'At least (cried Tabby), all the world allows that the Scots behaved gloriously in fighting and conquering the savages of America.' 'I can assure you, madam, you have been misinformed (replied the lieutenant); in that continent the Scots did nothing more than their duty, nor was there one corps in his majesty's service that distinguished itself more than another.Those who affected to extol the Scots for superior merit, were no friends to that nation.' Though he himself made free with his countrymen, he would not suffer any other person to glance a sarcasm at them with impunity. One of the company chancing to mention lord B's inglorious peace, the lieutenant immediately took up the cudgels in his lordship's favour, and argued very strenuously to prove that it was the most honourable and advantageous peace that England had ever made since the foundation of the monarchy.Nay, between friends, he offered such reasons on this subject, that I was really confounded, if not convinced.He would not allow that the Scots abounded above their proportion in the army and navy of GreatBritain, or that the English had any reason to say his countrymen had met with extraordinary encouragement in the service. 'When a South and NorthBriton (said he) are competitors for a place or commission, which is in the disposal of an English minister or an English general, it would be absurd to suppose that the preference will not be given to the native of England, who has so many advantages over his rival.First and foremost, he has in his favour that laudable partiality, which, Mr Addison says, never fails to cleave to the heart of an Englishman; secondly, he has more powerful connexions, and a greater share of parliamentary interest, by which those contests are generally decided; and lastly, he has a greater command of money to smooth the way to his success. For my own part (said he), I know no Scotch officer, who has risen in the army above the rank of a subaltern, without purchasing every degree of preferment either with money or recruits; but I know many gentlemen of that country, who, for want of money and interest, have grown grey in the rank of lieutenants; whereas very few instances of this illfortune are to be found among the natives of SouthBritain.Not that I would insinuate that my countrymen have the least reason to complain. Preferment in the service, like success in any other branch of traffic, will naturally favour those who have the greatest stock of cash and credit, merit and capacity being supposed equal on all sides.' But the most hardy of all this original's positions were these: That commerce would, sooner or later, prove the ruin of every nation, where it flourishes to any extentthat the parliament was the rotten part of the British constitutionthat the liberty of the press was a national eviland that the boasted institution of juries, as managed in England, was productive of shameful perjury and flagrant injustice. He observed, that traffick was an enemy to all the liberal passions of the soul, founded on the thirst of lucre, a sordid disposition to take advantage of the necessities of our fellow creatures.He affirmed, the nature of commerce was such, that it could not be fixed or perpetuated, but, having flowed to a certain height, would immediately begin to ebb, and so continue till the channels should be left almost dry; but there was no instance of the tide's rising a second time to any considerable influx in the same nation. Mean while the sudden affluence occasioned by trade, forced open all the sluices of luxury and overflowed the land with every species of profligacy and corruption; a total pravity of manners would ensue, and this must be attended with bankruptcy and ruin. He observed of the parliament, that the practice of buying boroughs, and canvassing for votes, was an avowed system of venality, already established on the ruins of principle, integrity, faith, and good order, in consequence of which the elected and the elector, and, in short, the whole body of the people, were equally and universally contaminated and corrupted. He affirmed, that of a parliament thus constituted, the crown would always have influence enough to secure a great majority in its dependence, from the great number of posts, places, and pensions it had to bestow; that such a parliament would (as it had already done) lengthen the term of its sitting and authority, whenever the prince should think it for his interest to continue the representatives, for, without doubt, they had the same right to protect their authority ad infinitum, as they had to extend it from three to seven years.With a parliament, therefore, dependent upon the crown, devoted to the prince, and supported by a standing army, garbled and modelled for the purpose, any king of England may, and probably some ambitious sovereign will, totally overthrow all the bulwarks of the constitution; for it is not to be supposed that a prince of high spirit will tamely submit to be thwarted in all his measures, abused and insulted by a populace of unbridled ferocity, when he has it in his power to crush all opposition under his feet with the concurrence of the legislature. He said, he should always consider the liberty of the press as a national evil, while it enabled the vilest reptile to soil the lustre of the most shining merit, and furnished the most infamous incendiary with the means of disturbing the peace and destroying the good order of the community. He owned, however, that under due restrictions, it would be a valuable privilege; but affirmed, that at present there was no law in England sufficient to restrain it within proper bounds. With respect to juries, he expressed himself to this effect:juries are generally composed of illiterate plebeians, apt to be mistaken, easily misled, and open to sinister influence; for if either of the parties to be tried, can gain over one of the twelve jurors, he has secured the verdict in his favour; the juryman thus brought over will, in despight of all evidence and conviction, generally hold out till his fellows are fatigued, and harassed, and starved into concurrence; in which case the verdict is unjust, and the jurors are all perjured: but cases will often occur, when the jurors are really divided in opinion, and each side is convinced in opposition to the other; but no verdict will be received, unless they are unanimous, and they are all bound, not only in conscience, but by oath, to judge and declare according to their conviction.What then will be the consequence?They must either starve in company, or one side must sacrifice their conscience to their convenience, and join in a verdict which they believe to be false. This absurdity is avoided in Sweden, where a bare majority is sufficient; and in Scotland, where two thirds of the jury are required to concur in the verdict. You must not imagine that all these deductions were made on his part, without contradictions on mine.Nothe truth is, I found myself piqued in point of honour, at his pretending to be so much wiser than his neighbours.I questioned all his assertions, started innumerable objections, argued and wrangled with uncommon perseverance, and grew very warm, and even violent, in the debate.Sometimes he was puzzled, and once or twice, I think, fairly refuted; but from those falls he rose again, like Antaeus, with redoubled vigour, till at length I was tired, exhausted, and really did not know how to proceed, when luckily he dropped a hint, by which he discovered he had been bred to the law; a confession which enabled me to retire from the dispute with a good grace, as it could not be supposed that a man like me, who had been bred to nothing, should be able to cope with a veteran in his own profession. I believe, however, that I shall for some time continue to chew the cud of reflection upon many observations which this original discharged. Whether our sister Tabby was really struck with his conversation, or is resolved to throw at every thing she meets in the shape of a man, till she can fasten the matrimonial noose, certain it is, she has taken desperate strides towards the affection of Lismahago, who cannot be said to have met her half way, though he does not seem altogether insensible to her civilities.She insinuated more than once how happy we should be to have his company through that part of Scotland which we proposed to visit, till at length he plainly told us, that his road was totally different from that which we intended to take; that, for his part, his company would be of very little service to us in our progress, as he was utterly unacquainted with the country, which he had left in his early youth, consequently, he could neither direct us in our enquiries, nor introduce us to any family of distinction. He said, he was stimulated by an irresistible impulse to revisit the paternus lar, or patria domus, though he expected little satisfaction, inasmuch as he understood that his nephew, the present possessor, was but ill qualified to support the honour of the family.He assured us, however, as we design to return by the west road, that he will watch our motions, and endeavour to pay his respects to us at Dumfries.Accordingly he took his leave of us at a place half way betwixt Morpeth and Alnwick, and pranced away in great state, mounted on a tall, meagre, rawboned, shambling grey gelding, without e'er a tooth in his head, the very counterpart of the rider; and, indeed, the appearance of the two was so picturesque, that I would give twenty guineas to have them tolerably presented on canvas. Northumberland is a fine county, extending to the Tweed, which is a pleasant pastoral stream; but you will be surprised when I tell you that the English side of that river is neither so well cultivated nor so populous as the other.The farms are thinly scattered, the lands uninclosed, and scarce a gentleman's seat is to be seen in some miles from the Tweed; whereas the Scots are advanced in crowds to the very brink of the river, so that you may reckon above thirty good houses, in the compass of a few miles, belonging to proprietors whose ancestors had fortified castles in the same situations, a circumstance that shews what dangerous neighbours the Scots must have formerly been to the northern counties of England. Our domestic oeconomy continues on the old footing.My sister Tabby still adheres to methodism, and had the benefit of a sermon at Wesley's meeting in Newcastle; but I believe the Passion of love has in some measure abated the fervour of devotion both in her and her woman, Mrs Jenkins, about whose good graces there has been a violent contest betwixt my nephew's valet, Mr Dutton, and my man, Humphry Clinker.Jery has been obliged to interpose his authority to keep the peace, and to him I have left the discussion of that important affair, which had like to have kindled the flames of discord in the family of Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE TWEEDMOUTH, July 15. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon. DEAR WAT, In my two last you had so much of Lismahago, that I suppose you are glad he is gone off the stage for the present.I must now descend to domestic occurrences.Love, it seems, is resolved to assert his dominion over all the females of our family.After having practised upon poor Liddy's heart, and played strange vagaries with our aunt Mrs Tabitha, he began to run riot in the affections of her woman, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, whom I have had occasion to mention more than once in the course of our memoirs. Nature intended Jenkins for something very different from the character of her mistress; yet custom and habit have effected a wonderful resemblance betwixt them in many particulars. Win, to be sure, is much younger and more agreeable in her person; she is likewise tenderhearted and benevolent, qualities for which her mistress is by no means remarkable, no more than she is for being of a timorous disposition, and much subject to fits of the mother, which are the infirmities of Win's constitution: but then she seems to have adopted Mrs Tabby's manner with her cast cloaths.She dresses and endeavours to look like her mistress, although her own looks are much more engaging.She enters into her scheme of oeconomy, learns her phrases, repeats her remarks, imitates her stile in scolding the inferior servants, and, finally, subscribes implicitly to her system of devotion.This, indeed, she found the more agreeable, as it was in a great measure introduced and confirmed by the ministry of Clinker, with whose personal merit she seems to have been struck ever since he exhibited the pattern of his naked skin at Marlborough. Nevertheless, though Humphry had this double hank upon her inclinations, and exerted all his power to maintain the conquest he had made, he found it impossible to guard it on the side of vanity, where poor Win was as frail as any female in the kingdom. In short, my rascal Dutton professed himself her admirer, and, by dint of his outlandish qualifications, threw his rival Clinker out of the saddle of her heart. Humphry may be compared to an English pudding, composed of good wholesome flour and suet, and Dutton to a syllabub or iced froth, which, though agreeable to the taste, has nothing solid or substantial. The traitor not only dazzled her, with his secondhand finery, but he fawned, and flattered, and cringedhe taught her to take rappee, and presented her with a snuffbox of papier machehe supplied her with a powder for her teethhe mended her complexion, and he dressed her hair in the Paris fashionhe undertook to be her French master and her dancingmaster, as well as friseur, and thus imperceptibly wound himself into her good graces. Clinker perceived the progress he had made, and repined in secret.He attempted to open her eyes in the way of exhortation, and finding it produced no effect had recourse to prayer. At Newcastle, while he attended Mrs Tabby to the methodist meeting his rival accompanied Mrs Jenkins to the play. He was dressed in a silk coat, made at Paris for his former master, with a tawdry waistcoat of tarnished brocade; he wore his hair in a great bag with a huge solitaire, and a long sword dangled from his thigh. The lady was all of a flutter with faded lutestring, washed gauze, and ribbons three times refreshed; but she was most remarkable for the frisure of her head, which rose, like a pyramid, seven inches above the scalp, and her face was primed and patched from the chin up to the eyes; nay, the gallant himself had spared neither red nor white in improving the nature of his own complexion. In this attire, they walked together through the high street to the theatre, and as they passed for players ready dressed for acting, they reached it unmolested; but as it was still light when they returned, and by that time the people had got information of their real character and condition, they hissed and hooted all the way, and Mrs Jenkins was all bespattered with dirt, as well as insulted with the opprobrious name of painted Jezabel, so that her fright and mortification threw her into an hysteric fit the moment she came home. Clinker was so incensed at Dutton, whom he considered as the cause of her disgrace, that he upbraided him severely for having turned the poor woman's brain. The other affected to treat him with contempt, and mistaking his forbearance for want of courage, threatened to horsewhip him into good manners. Humphry then came to me, humbly begging I would give him leave to chastise my servant for his insolence'He has challenged me to fight him at sword's point (said he); but I might as well challenge him to make a horseshoe, or a plough iron; for I know no more of the one than he does of the other.Besides, it doth not become servants to use those weapons, or to claim the privilege of gentlemen to kill one another when they fall out; moreover, I would not have his blood upon my conscience for ten thousand times the profit or satisfaction I should get by his death; but if your honour won't be angry, I'll engage to gee 'en a good drubbing, that, may hap, will do 'en service, and I'll take care it shall do 'en no harm.' I said, I had no objection to what he proposed, provided he could manage matters so as not to be found the aggressor, in case Dutton should prosecute him for an assault and battery. Thus licensed, he retired; and that same evening easily provoked his rival to strike the first blow, which Clinker returned with such interest that he was obliged to call for quarter, declaring, at the same time, that he would exact severe and bloody satisfaction the moment we should pass the border, when he could run him through the body without fear of the consequence.This scene passed in presence of lieutenant Lismahago, who encouraged Clinker to hazard a thrust of cold iron with his antagonist. 'Cold iron (cried Humphry) I shall never use against the life of any human creature; but I am so far from being afraid of his cold iron, that I shall use nothing in my defence but a good cudgel, which shall always be at his service.' In the mean time, the fair cause of this contest, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, seemed overwhelmed with affliction, and Mr Clinker acted much on the reserve, though he did not presume to find fault with her conduct. The dispute between the two rivals was soon brought to a very unexpected issue. Among our fellowlodgers at Berwick, was a couple from London, bound to Edinburgh, on the voyage of matrimony. The female was the daughter and heiress of a pawnbroker deceased, who had given her guardians the slip, and put herself under the tuition of a tall Hibernian, who had conducted her thus far in quest of a clergyman to unite them in marriage, without the formalities required by the law of England. I know not how the lover had behaved on the road, so as to decline in the favour of his inamorata; but, in all probability, Dutton perceived a coldness on her side, which encouraged him to whisper, it was a pity she should have cast affections upon a taylor, which he affirmed the Irishman to be. This discovery completed her disgust, of which my man taking the advantage, began to recommend himself to her good graces, and the smoothtongued rascal found no difficulty to insinuate himself into the place of her heart, from which the other had been discardedTheir resolution was immediately taken. In the morning, before day, while poor Teague lay snoring abed, his indefatigable rival ordered a postchaise, and set out with the lady for Coldstream, a few miles up the Tweed, where there was a parson who dealt in this branch of commerce, and there they were noosed, before the Irishman ever dreamt of the matter. But when he got up at six o'clock, and found the bird was flown, he made such a noise as alarmed the whole house. One of the first persons he encountered, was the postilion returned from Coldstream, where he had been witness to the marriage, and over and above an handsome gratuity, had received a bride's favour, which he now wore in his capWhen the forsaken lover understood they were actually married, and set out for London; and that Dutton had discovered to the lady, that he (the Hibernian) was a taylor, he had like to have run distracted. He tore the ribbon from the fellow's cap, and beat it about his ears. He swore he would pursue him to the gates of hell, and ordered a postchaise and four to be got ready as soon as possible; but, recollecting that his finances would not admit of this way of travelling, he was obliged to countermand this order. For my part, I knew nothing at all of what had happened, till the postilion brought me the keys of my trunk and portmanteau, which he had received from Dutton, who sent me his respects, hoping I would excuse him for his abrupt departure, as it was a step upon which his fortune depended. Before I had time to make my uncle acquainted with this event, the Irishman burst into my chamber, without any introduction, exclaiming,'By my soul, your sarvant has robbed me of five thousand pounds, and I'll have satisfaction, if I should be hanged tomorrow.'When I asked him who he was, 'My name (said he) is Master Macloughlin but it should be Leighlin Oneale, for I am come from TirOwen the Great; and so I am as good a gentleman as any in Ireland; and that rogue, your sarvant, said I was a taylor, which was as big a lie as if he had called me the popeI'm a man of fortune, and have spent all I had; and so being in distress, Mr Coshgrave, the fashioner in Shuffolkstreet, tuck me out, and made me his own private shecretary: by the same token, I was the last he bailed; for his friends obliged him to tie himself up, that he would bail no more above ten pounds; for why, becaase as how, he could not refuse any body that asked, and therefore in time would have robbed himself of his whole fortune, and, if he had lived long at that rate, must have died bankrupt very soon and so I made my addresses to Miss Skinner, a young lady of five thousand pounds fortune, who agreed to take me for better nor worse; and, to be sure, this day would have put me in possession, if it had not been for that rogue, your sarvant, who came like a tief, and stole away my property, and made her believe I was a taylor; and that she was going to marry the ninth part of a man: but the devil burn my soul, if ever I catch him on the mountains of Tulloghobegly, if I don't shew him that I'm nine times as good a man as he, or e'er a bug of his country.' When he had rung out his first alarm, I told him I was sorry he had allowed himself to be so jockied; but it was no business of mine; and that the fellow who robbed him of his bride, had likewise robbed me of my servant'Didn't I tell you then (cried he) that Rogue was his true Christian name.Oh if I had but one fair trust with him upon the sod, I'd give him lave to brag all the rest of his life.' My uncle hearing the noise, came in, and being informed of this adventure, began to comfort Mr Oneale for the lady's elopement; observing that he seemed to have had a lucky escape, that it was better she should elope before, than after marriageThe Hibernian was of a very different opinion. He said, 'If he had been once married, she might have eloped as soon as she pleased; he would have taken care that she should not have carried her fortune along with herAh (said he) she's a Judas Iscariot, and has betrayed me with a kiss; and, like Judas, she carried the bag, and has not left me money enough to bear my expences back to London; and so I'm come to this pass, and the rogue that was the occasion of it has left you without a sarvant, you may put me in his place; and by Jasus, it is the best thing you can do.'I begged to be excused, declaring I could put up with any inconvenience, rather than treat as a footman the descendant of TirOwen the Great. I advised him to return to his friend, Mr Cosgrave, and take his passage from Newcastle by sea, towards which I made him a small present, and he retired, seemingly resigned to his evil fortune. I have taken upon trial a Scotchman, called Archy M'Alpin, an old soldier, whose last master, a colonel, lately died at Berwick. The fellow is old and withered; but he has been recommended to me for his fidelity, by Mrs Humphreys, a very good sort of a woman, who keeps the inn at Tweedmouth, and is much respected by all the travellers on this road. Clinker, without doubt, thinks himself happy in the removal of a dangerous rival, and he is too good a Christian, to repine at Dutton's success. Even Mrs Jenkins will have reason to congratulate herself upon this event, when she cooly reflects upon the matter; for, howsoever she was forced from her poise for a season, by snares laid for her vanity, Humphry is certainly the northstar to which the needle of her affection would have pointed at the long run. At present, the same vanity is exceedingly mortified, upon finding herself abandoned by her new admirer, in favour of another inamorata. She received the news with a violent burst of laughter, which soon brought on a fit of crying; and this gave the finishing blow to the patience of her mistress, which had held out beyond all expectation. She now opened all those floodgates of reprehension, which had been shut so long. She not only reproached her with her levity and indiscretion, but attacked her on the score of religion, declaring roundly that she was in a state of apostacy and reprobation; and finally, threatened to send her a packing at this extremity of the kingdom. All the family interceded for poor Winifred, not even excepting her slighted swain, Mr Clinker, who, on his knees, implored and obtained her pardon. There was, however, another consideration that gave Mrs Tabitha some disturbance. At Newcastle, the servants had been informed by some wag, that there was nothing to eat in Scotland, but oatmeal and sheep'sheads; and lieutenant Lismahago being consulted, what he said served rather to confirm than to refute the report. Our aunt being apprised of this circumstance, very gravely advised her brother to provide a sumpter horse with store of hams, tongues, bread, biscuit, and other articles for our subsistence, in the course of our peregrination, and Mr Bramble as gravely replied, that he would take the hint into consideration: but, finding no such provision was made, she now revived the proposal, observing that there was a tolerable market at Berwick, where we might be supplied; and that my man's horse would serve as a beast of burthenThe 'squire, shrugging his shoulders, eyed her askance with a look of ineffable contempt: and, after some pause, 'Sister (said he), I can hardly persuade myself you are serious.' She was so little acquainted with the geography of the island, that she imagined we could not go to Scotland but by sea; and, after we had passed through the town of Berwick, when he told her we were upon Scottish ground, she could hardly believe the assertionIf the truth must be told, the South Britons in general are woefully ignorant in this particular. What, between want of curiosity, and traditional sarcasms, the effect of ancient animosity, the people at the other end of the island know as little of Scotland as of Japan. If I had never been in Wales, I should have been more struck with the manifest difference in appearance betwixt the peasants and commonalty on different sides of the Tweed. The boors of Northumberland are lusty fellows, fresh complexioned, cleanly, and well cloathed; but the labourers in Scotland are generally lank, lean, hardfeatured, sallow, soiled, and shabby, and their little pinched blue caps have a beggarly effect. The cattle are much in the same stile with their drivers, meagre, stunted, and ill equipt. When I talked to my uncle on this subject, he said, 'Though all the Scottish hinds would not bear to be compared with those of the rich counties of South Britain, they would stand very well in competition with the peasants of France, Italy, and Savoynot to mention the mountaineers of Wales, and the redshanks of Ireland.' We entered Scotland by a frightful moor of sixteen miles, which promises very little for the interior parts of the kingdom; but the prospect mended as we advanced. Passing through Dunbar, which is a neat little town, situated on the seaside, we lay at a country inn, where our entertainment far exceeded our expectation; but for this we cannot give the Scots credit, as the landlord is a native of England. Yesterday we dined at Haddington, which has been a place of some consideration, but is now gone to decay; and in the evening arrived at this metropolis, of which I can say very little. It is very romantic, from its situation on the declivity of a hill, having a fortified castle at the top, and a royal palace at the bottom. The first thing that strikes the nose of a stranger, shall be nameless; but what first strikes the eye, is the unconscionable height of the houses, which generally rise to five, six, seven, and eight stories, and, in some places (as I am assured), to twelve. This manner of building, attended with numberless inconveniences, must have been originally owing to want of room. Certain it is, the town seems to be full of people: but their looks, their language, and their customs, are so different from ours, that I can hardly believe myself in GreatBritain. The inn at which we put up (if it may be so called) was so filthy and disagreeable in all respects, that my uncle began to fret, and his gouty symptoms to recurRecollecting, however, that he had a letter of recommendation to one Mr Mitchelson, a lawyer, he sent it by his servant, with a compliment, importing that we would wait upon him next day in person; but that gentleman visited us immediately, and insisted upon our going to his own house, until he could provide lodgings for our accommodation. We gladly accepted, of his invitation, and repaired to his house, where we were treated with equal elegance and hospitality, to the utter confusion of our aunt, whose prejudices, though beginning to give way, were not yet entirely removed. Today, by the assistance of our friend, we are settled in convenient lodgings, up four pair of stairs, in the Highstreet, the fourth story being, in this city, reckoned more genteel than the first. The air is, in all probability, the better; but it requires good lungs to breathe it at this distance above the surface of the earth.While I do remain above it, whether higher or lower, provided I breathe at all, I shall ever be, Dear Phillips, yours, J. MELFORD July 18. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS, That part of Scotland contiguous to Berwick, nature seems to have intended as a barrier between two hostile nations. It is a brown desert of considerable extent, that produces nothing but heath and fern; and what rendered it the more dreary when we passed, there was a thick fog that hindered us from seeing above twenty yards from the carriageMy sister began to make wry faces, and use her smellingbottle; Liddy looked blank, and Mrs Jenkins dejected; but in a few hours these clouds were dissipated; the sea appeared upon our right, and on the left the mountains retired a little, leaving an agreeable plain betwixt them and the beach; but, what surprised us all, this plain, to the extent of several miles, was covered with as fine wheat as ever I saw in the most fertile parts of South BritainThis plentiful crop is raised in the open field, without any inclosure, or other manure than the alga marina, or seaweed, which abounds on this coast; a circumstance which shews that the soil and climate are favourable; but that agriculture in this country is not yet brought to that perfection which it has attained in England. Inclosures would not only keep the grounds warm, and the several fields distinct, but would also protect the crop from the high winds, which are so frequent in this part of the island. Dunbar is well situated for trade, and has a curious bason, where ships of small burthen may be perfectly secure; but there is little appearance of business in the placeFrom thence, all the way to Edinburgh, there is a continual succession of fine seats, belonging to noblemen and gentlemen; and as each is surrounded by its own parks and plantation, they produce a very pleasing effect in a country which lies otherwise open and exposed. At Dunbar there is a noble park, with a lodge, belonging to the Duke of Roxburgh, where Oliver Cromwell had his headquarters, when Lesley, at the head of a Scotch army, took possession of the mountains in the neighbourhood, and hampered him in such a manner, that he would have been obliged to embark and get away by sea, had not the fanaticism of the enemy forfeited the advantage which they had obtained by their general's conductTheir ministers, by exhortation, prayer, assurance, and prophecy, instigated them to go down and slay the Philistines in Gilgal, and they quitted their ground accordingly, notwithstanding all that Lesley could do to restrain the madness of their enthusiasmWhen Oliver saw them in motion, he exclaimed, 'Praised be the Lord, he hath delivered them into the hands of his servant!' and ordered his troops to sing a psalm of thanksgiving, while they advanced in order to the plain, where the Scots were routed with great slaughter. In the neighbourhood of Haddington, there is a gentleman's house, in the building of which, and the improvements about it, he is said to have expended forty thousand pounds: but I cannot say I was much pleased with either the architecture or the situation; though it has in front a pastoral stream, the banks of which are laid out in a very agreeable manner. I intended to pay my respects to Lord Elibank, whom I had the honour to know at London many years ago. He lives in this part of Lothian; but was gone to the North, on a visitYou have often heard me mention this nobleman, whom I have long revered for his humanity and universal intelligence, over and above the entertainment arising from originality of his characterAt Musselburgh, however, I had the goodfortune to drink tea with my old friend Mr Cardonel; and at his house I met with Dr C, the parson of the parish, whose humour and conversation inflamed me with a desire of being better acquainted with his personI am not at all surprised that these Scots make their way in every quarter of the globe. This place is but four miles from Edinburgh, towards which we proceeded along the seashore, upon a firm bottom of smooth sand, which the tide had left uncovered in its retreatEdinburgh, from this avenue, is not seen to much advantageWe had only an imperfect view of the Castle and upper parts of the town, which varied incessantly according to the inflexions of the road, and exhibited the appearance of detached spires and turrets, belonging to some magnificent edifice in ruins. The palace of Holyrood house stands on the left, as you enter the CanongateThis is a street continued from hence to the gate called Nether Bow, which is now taken away; so that there is no interruption for a long mile, from the bottom to the top of the hill on which the castle stands in a most imperial situationConsidering its fine pavement, its width, and the lofty houses on each side, this would be undoubtedly one of the noblest streets in Europe, if an ugly mass of mean buildings, called the LuckenBooths, had not thrust itself, by what accident I know not, into the middle of the way, like MiddleRow in Holborn. The city stands upon two hills, and the bottom between them; and, with all its defects, may very well pass for the capital of a moderate kingdom.It is full of people, and continually resounds with the noise of coaches and other carriages, for luxury as well as commerce. As far as I can perceive, here is no want of provisionsThe beef and mutton are as delicate here as in Wales; the sea affords plenty of good fish; the bread is remarkably fine; and the water is excellent, though I'm afraid not in sufficient quantity to answer all the purposes of cleanliness and convenience; articles in which, it must be allowed, our fellowsubjects are a little defectiveThe water is brought in leaden pipes from a mountain in the neighbourhood, to a cistern on the Castlehill, from whence it is distributed to public conduits in different parts of the city. From these it is carried in barrels, on the backs of male and female porters, up two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight pairs of stairs, for the use of particular familiesEvery story is a complete house, occupied by a separate family; and the stair being common to them all, is generally left in a very filthy condition; a man must tread with great circumspection to get safe housed with unpolluted shoesNothing can form a stronger contrast, than the difference betwixt the outside and inside of the door, for the goodwomen of this metropolis are remarkably nice in the ornaments and propriety of their apartments, as if they were resolved to transfer the imputation from the individual to the public. You are no stranger to their method of discharging all their impurities from their windows, at a certain hour of the night, as the custom is in Spain, Portugal, and some parts of France and ItalyA practice to which I can by no means be reconciled; for notwithstanding all the care that is taken by their scavengers to remove this nuisance every morning by break of day, enough still remains to offend the eyes, as well as other organs of those whom use has not hardened against all delicacy of sensation. The inhabitants seem insensible to these impressions, and are apt to imagine the disgust that we avow is little better than affectation; but they ought to have some compassion for strangers, who have not been used to this kind of sufferance; and consider, whether it may not be worth while to take some pains to vindicate themselves from the reproach that, on this account, they bear among their neighbours. As to the surprising height of their houses, it is absurd in many respects; but in one particular light I cannot view it without horror; that is, the dreadful situation of all the families above, in case the common staircase should be rendered impassable by a fire in the lower storiesIn order to prevent the shocking consequences that must attend such an accident, it would be a right measure to open doors of communication from one house to another, on every story, by which the people might fly from such a terrible visitation. In all parts of the world, we see the force of habit prevailing over all the dictates of convenience and sagacity. All the people of business at Edinburgh, and even the genteel company, may be seen standing in crowds every day, from one to two in the afternoon, in the open street, at a place where formerly stood a marketcross, which (by the bye) was a curious piece of Gothic architecture, still to be seen in lord Sommerville's garden in this neighbourhoodI say, the people stand in the open street from the force of custom, rather than move a few yards to an Exchange that stands empty on one side, or to the Parliamentclose on the other, which is a noble square adorned with a fine equestrian statue of king Charles II.The company thus assembled, are entertained with a variety of tunes, played upon a set of bells, fixed in a steeple hard byAs these bells are welltoned, and the musician, who has a salary from the city, for playing upon them with keys, is no bad performer, the entertainment is really agreeable, and very striking to the ears of a stranger. The public inns of Edinburgh are still worse than those of London; but by means of a worthy gentleman, to whom I was recommended, we have got decent lodgings in the house of a widow gentlewoman of the name of Lockhart; and here I shall stay until I have seen every thing that is remarkable in and about this capital. I now begin to feel the good effects of exerciseI eat like a farmer, sleep from midnight till eight in the morning without interruption, and enjoy a constant tide of spirits, equally distant from inanition and excess; but whatever ebbs or flows my constitution may undergo, my heart will still declare that I am, Dear Lewis, Your affectionate friend and servant, MATT. BRAMBLE EDR. July 18. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MARY, The 'squire has been so kind as to rap my bit of nonsense under the kiver of his own sheetO, Mary Jones! Mary Jones! I have had trials and trembulation. God help me! I have been a vixen and a griffin these many daysSattin has had power to temp me in the shape of van Ditton, the young 'squire's wally de shamble; but by God's grease he did not purvailI thoft as how, there was no arm in going to a play at Newcastle, with my hair dressed in the Parish fashion; and as for the trifle of paint, he said as how my complexion wanted touch, and so I let him put it on with a little Spanish owl; but a mischievous mob of colliers, and such promiscous ribble rabble, that could bare no smut but their own, attacked us in the street, and called me hoar and painted Issabel, and splashed my close, and spoiled me a complete set of blond lace triple ruffles, not a pin the worse for the wareThey cost me seven good sillings, to lady Griskin's woman at London. When I axed Mr Clinker what they meant by calling me Issabel, he put the byebill into my hand, and I read of van Issabel a painted harlot, that vas thrown out of a vindore, and the dogs came and licked her blood. But I am no harlot; and, with God's blessing, no dog shall have my poor blood to lick: marry, Heaven forbid, amen! As for Ditton, after all his courting, and his compliment, he stole away an Irishman's bride, and took a French leave of me and his master; but I vally not his going a farting; but I have had hanger on his accountMistriss scoulded like mad; thof I have the comfit that all the family took my part, and even Mr Clinker pleaded for me on his bended knee; thof, God he knows, he had raisins enuff to complain; but he's a good sole, abounding with Christian meekness, and one day will meet with his reward. And now, dear Mary, we have got to Haddingborrough, among the Scots, who are civil enuff for our money, thof I don't speak their lingoBut they should not go for to impose upon foreigners; for the bills in their houses say, they have different easements to let; and behold there is nurro geaks in the whole kingdom, nor any thing for poor sarvants, but a barrel with a pair of tongs thrown across; and all the chairs in the family are emptied into this here barrel once aday; and at ten o'clock at night the whole cargo is flung out of a back windore that looks into some street or lane, and the maids calls gardy loo to the passengers which signifies Lord have mercy upon you! and this is done every night in every house in Haddingborrough; so you may guess, Mary Jones, what a sweet savour comes from such a number of profuming pans; but they say it is wholesome, and, truly, I believe it is; for being in the vapours, and thinking of Issabel and Mr Clinker, I was going into a fit of astericks, when this fiff, saving your presence, took me by the nose so powerfully that I sneezed three times, and found myself wonderfully refreshed; and this to be sure is the raisin why there are no fits in Haddingborrough. I was likewise made believe, that there was nothing to be had but oatmeal and seepsheads; but if I hadn't been a fool, I mought have known there could be no heads without kerkassesThis very blessed day I dined upon a delicate leg of Velsh mutton and cullyflower; and as for the oatmeal, I leave that to the sarvants of the country, which are pore drudges, many of them without shoes or stockingsMr Clinker tells me here is a great call of the gospel; but I wish, I wish some of our family be not fallen off from the rite wayO, if I was given to tailbaring, I have my own secrets to discoverThere has been a deal of huggling and flurtation betwixt mistress and an ould Scotch officer, called Kismycago. He looks for all the orld like the scarecrow that our gardener has set up to frite away the sparrows; and what will come of it, the Lord knows; but come what will, it shall never be said that I menchioned a syllabub of the matterRemember me kindly to Saul and the kittenI hope they got the hornbuck, and will put it to a good yuse, which is the constant prayer of, Dear Molly, Your loving friend, WIN. JENKINS ADDINGBOROUGH, July 18. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, If I stay much longer at Edinburgh, I shall be changed into a downright CaledonianMy uncle observes, that I have already acquired something of the country accent. The people here are so social and attentive in their civilities to strangers, that I am insensibly sucked into the channel of their manners and customs, although they are in fact much more different from ours than you can imagineThat difference, however, which struck me very much at my first arrival, I now hardly perceive, and my ear is perfectly reconciled to the Scotch accent, which I find even agreeable in the mouth of a pretty womanIt is a sort of Doric dialect, which gives an idea of amiable simplicityYou cannot imagine how we have been caressed and feasted in the good town of Edinburgh of which we are become free denizens and guild brothers, by the special favour of the magistracy. I had a whimsical commission from Bath, to a citizen of this metropolis. Quin, understanding our intention to visit Edinburgh, pulled out a guinea, and desired the favour I would drink it at a tavern, with a particular friend and bottlecompanion of his, Mr R C, a lawyer of this cityI charged myself with the commission, and, taking the guinea, 'You see (said I) I have pocketed your bounty.' 'Yes (replied Quin, laughing); and a headake into the bargain, if you drink fair.' I made use of this introduction to Mr C, who received me with open arms, and gave me the rendezvous, according to the cartel. He had provided a company of jolly fellows, among whom I found myself extremely happy; and did Mr C and Quin all the justice in my power; but, alas, I was no more than a tiro among a troop of veterans, who had compassion upon my youth and conveyed me home in the morning by what means I know notQuin was mistaken, however, as to the headake; the claret was too good to treat me so roughly. While Mr Bramble holds conferences with the graver literati of the place, and our females are entertained at visits by the Scotch ladies, who are the best and kindest creatures upon earth, I pass my time among the bucks of Edinburgh; who, with a great share of spirit and vivacity, have a certain shrewdness and selfcommand that is not often found among their neighbours, in the highday of youth and exultationNot a hint escapes a Scotchman that can be interpreted into offence by any individual in the company; and national reflections are never heardIn this particular, I must own, we are both unjust and ungrateful to the Scots; for, as far as I am able to judge, they have a real esteem for the natives of SouthBritain; and never mention our country, but with expressions of regardNevertheless, they are far from being servile imitators of our modes and fashionable vices. All their customs and regulations of public and private oeconomy, of business and diversion, are in their own stile. This remarkably predominates in their looks, their dress and manner, their music, and even their cookery. Our 'squire declares, that he knows not another people upon earth, so strongly marked with a national characterNow we are upon the article of cookery, I must own, some of their dishes are savoury, and even delicate; but I am not yet Scotchman enough to relish their singed sheep'shead and haggice, which were provided at our request, one day at Mr Mitchelson's, where we dinedThe first put me in mind of the history of Congo, in which I had read of negroes' heads sold publickly in the markets; the last, being a mess of minced lights, livers, suet, oatmeal, onions, and pepper, inclosed in a sheep's stomach, had a very sudden effect upon mine, and the delicate Mrs Tabby changed colour; when the cause of our disgust was instantaneously removed at the nod of our entertainer. The Scots, in general, are attached to this composition, with a sort of national fondness, as well as to their oatmeal bread; which is presented at every table, in thin triangular cakes, baked upon a plate of iron, called a girdle; and these, many of the natives, even in the higher ranks of life, prefer to wheatenbread, which they have here in perfectionYou know we used to vex poor Murray of Baliol college, by asking, if there was really no fruit but turnips in Scotland?Sure enough, I have seen turnips make their appearance, not as a desert, but by way of hors d'oeuvres, or whets, as radishes are served betwixt more substantial dishes in France and Italy; but it must be observed, that the turnips of this country are as much superior in sweetness, delicacy, and flavour, to those in England, as a muskmelon is to the stock of a common cabbage. They are small and conical, of a yellowish colour, with a very thin skin and, over and above their agreeable taste, are valuable for their antiscorbutic qualityAs to the fruit now in season, such as cherries, gooseberries, and currants, there is no want of them at Edinburgh; and in the gardens of some gentlemen, who live in the neighbourhood, there is now a very favourable appearance of apricots, peaches, nectarines, and even grapes: nay, I have seen a very fine shew of pineapples within a few miles of this metropolis. Indeed, we have no reason to be surprised at these particulars, when we consider how little difference there is, in fact, betwixt this climate and that of London. All the remarkable places in the city and its avenues, for ten miles around, we have visited, much to our satisfaction. In the Castle are some royal apartments, where the sovereign occasionally resided; and here are carefully preserved the regalia of the kingdom, consisting of a crown, said to be of great value, a sceptre, and a sword of state, adorned with jewelsOf these symbols of sovereignty, the people are exceedingly jealousA report being spread during the sitting of the unionparliament, that they were removed to London, such a tumult arose, that the lord commissioner would have been torn to pieces, if he had not produced them for the satisfaction of the populace. The palace of Holyroodhouse is an elegant piece of architecture, but sunk in an obscure, and, as I take it, unwholesome bottom, where one would imagine it had been placed on purpose to be concealed. The apartments are lofty, but unfurnished; and as for the pictures of the Scottish kings, from Fergus I. to king William, they are paultry daubings, mostly by the same hand, painted either from the imagination, or porters hired to sit for the purpose. All the diversions of London we enjoy at Edinburgh, in a small compass. Here is a well conducted concert, in which several gentlemen perform on different instrumentsThe Scots are all musiciansEvery man you meet plays on the flute, the violin, or violoncello; and there is one nobleman, whose compositions are universally admiredOur company of actors is very tolerable; and a subscription is now on foot for building a new theatre; but their assemblies please me above all other public exhibitions. We have been at the hunters' ball, where I was really astonished to see such a number of fine womenThe English, who have never crossed the Tweed, imagine erroneously, that the Scotch ladies are not remarkable for personal attractions; but, I can declare with a safe conscience, I never saw so many handsome females together, as were assembled on this occasion. At the Leith races, the best company comes hither from the remoter provinces; so that, I suppose, we had all the beauty of the kingdom concentrated as it were into one focus; which was, indeed, so vehement, that my heart could hardly resist its power. Between friends, it has sustained some damage from the bright eyes of the charming miss Renton, whom I had the honour to dance with at the ballThe countess of Melville attracted all eyes, and the admiration of all presentShe was accompanied by the agreeable miss Grieve, who made many conquests; nor did my sister Liddy pass unnoticed in the assemblyShe is become a toast at Edinburgh, by the name of the Fair Cambrian, and has already been the occasion of much wineshed; but the poor girl met with an accident at the ball, which has given us great disturbance. A young gentleman, the express image of that rascal Wilson, went up to ask her to dance a minuet; and his sudden appearance shocked her so much, that she fainted awayI call Wilson a rascal, because, if he had been really a gentleman, with honourable intentions, he would have, ere now, appeared in his own characterI must own, my blood boils with indignation when I think of that fellow's presumption; and Heaven confound me if I don'tBut I won't be so womanish as to railTime will, perhaps, furnish occasionThank God, the cause of Liddy's disorder remains a secret. The lady directress of the ball, thinking she was overcome by the heat of the place, had her conveyed to another room, where she soon recovered so well, as to return and join in the country dances, in which the Scotch lasses acquit themselves with such spirit and agility, as put their partners to the height of their mettle. I believe our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, had entertained hopes of being able to do some execution among the cavaliers at this assembly. She had been several days in consultation with milliners and mantuamakers, preparing for the occasion, at which she made her appearance in a full suit of damask, so thick and heavy, that the sight of it alone, at this season of the year, was sufficient to draw drops of sweat from any man of ordinary imaginationShe danced one minuet with our friend Mr Mitchelson, who favoured her so far, in the spirit of hospitality and politeness; and she was called out a second time by the young laird of Ballymawhawple, who, coming in by accident, could not readily find any other partner; but as the first was a married man, and the second payed no particular homage to her charms, which were also overlooked by the rest of the company, she became dissatisfied and censoriousAt supper, she observed that the Scotch gentlemen made a very good figure, when they were a little improved by travelling; and therefore it was pity they did not all take the benefit of going abroad. She said the women were awkward, masculine creatures; that, in dancing, they lifted their legs like so many colts; that they had no idea of graceful motion, and put on their clothes in a frightful manner; but if the truth must be told, Tabby herself was the most ridiculous figure, and the worst dressed of the whole assembly. The neglect of the male sex rendered her malcontent and peevish; she now found fault with every thing at Edinburgh, and teized her brother to leave the place, when she was suddenly reconciled to it on a religious considerationThere is a sect of fanaticks, who have separated themselves from the established kirk, under the name of SecedersThey acknowledge no earthly head of the church, reject laypatronage, and maintain the methodist doctrines of the new birth, the new light, the efficacy of grace, the insufficiency of works, and the operations of the spirit. Mrs Tabitha, attended by Humphry Clinker, was introduced to one of their conventicles, where they both received much edification; and she has had the good fortune to come acquainted with a pious Christian, called Mr Moffat, who is very powerful in prayer, and often assists her in private exercises of devotion. I never saw such a concourse of genteel company at any races in England, as appeared on the course of LeithHard by, in the fields called the Links, the citizens of Edinburgh divert themselves at a game called golf, in which they use a curious kind of bats, tipt with horn, and small elastic balls of leather, stuffed with feathers, rather less than tennis balls, but of a much harder consistenceThis they strike with such force and dexterity from one hole to another, that they will fly to an incredible distance. Of this diversion the Scots are so fond, that when the weather will permit, you may see a multitude of all ranks, from the senator of justice to the lowest tradesman, mingled together in their shirts, and following the balls with the utmost eagerness. Among others, I was shewn one particular set of golfers, the youngest of whom was turned of fourscoreThey were all gentlemen of independent fortunes, who had amused themselves with this pastime for the best part of a century, without having ever felt the least alarm from sickness or disgust; and they never went to bed, without having each the best part of a gallon of claret in his belly. Such uninterrupted exercise, cooperating with the keen air from the sea, must, without all doubt, keep the appetite always on edge, and steel the constitution against all the common attacks of distemper. The Leith races gave occasion to another entertainment of a very singular natureThere is at Edinburgh a society or corporation of errandboys, called cawdies, who ply in the streets at night with paper lanthorns, and are very serviceable in carrying messagesThese fellows, though shabby in their appearance, and rudely familiar in their address, are wonderfully acute, and so noted for fidelity, that there is no instance of a cawdy's having betrayed his trustSuch is their intelligence, that they know, not only every individual of the place, but also every stranger, by that time he has been four and twenty hours in Edinburgh; and no transaction, even the most private, can escape their notice. They are particularly famous for their dexterity in executing one of the functions of Mercury; though, for my own part, I never employed them in this department of businessHad I occasion for any service of this nature, my own man, Archy M'Alpine, is as well qualified as e'er a cawdie in Edinburgh; and I am much mistaken, if he has not been heretofore of their fraternity. Be that as it may, they resolved to give a dinner and a ball at Leith, to which they formally invited all the young noblemen and gentlemen that were at the races; and this invitation was reinforced by an assurance that all the celebrated ladies of pleasure would grace the entertainment with their company.I received a card on this occasion, and went thither with half a dozen of my acquaintance.In a large hall the cloth was laid on a long range of tables joined together, and here the company seated themselves, to the number of about fourscore, lords, and lairds, and other gentlemen, courtezans and cawdies mingled together, as the slaves and their masters were in the time of the Saturnalia in ancient Rome.The toast master, who sat at the upper end, was one Cawdie Fraser, a veteran pimp, distinguished for his humour and sagacity, well known and much respected in his profession by all the guests, male and female, that were here assembled.He had bespoke the dinner and the wine: he had taken care that all his brethren should appear in decent apparel and clean linen; and he himself wore a periwig with three tails in honour of the festival.I assure you the banquet was both elegant and plentiful, and seasoned with a thousand sallies, that promoted a general spirit of mirth and good humour.After the desert, Mr Fraser proposed the following toasts, which I don't pretend to explain. 'The best in Christendom.''Gibbs' contract.''The beggar's benison,''King and kirk.''Great Britain and Ireland.' Then, filling a bumper, and turning to me, 'Mester Malford (said he), may a' unkindness cease betwixt John Bull and his sister Moggy.'The next person he singled out, was a nobleman who had been long abroad.'Ma lord (cried Fraser), here is a bumper to a' those noblemen who have virtue enough to spend their rents in their ain countray.'He afterwards addressed himself to a member of parliament in these words:'MeesterI'm sure ye'll ha' nae objection to my drinking, disgrace and dule to ilka Scot, that sells his conscience and his vote.'He discharged a third sarcasm at a person very gaily dressed, who had risen from small beginnings, and made a considerable fortune at play.Filling his glass, and calling him by name, 'Lang life (said he), to the wylie loon that gangs afield with a toom poke at his lunzie, and comes hame with a sackful of siller.'All these toasts being received with loud bursts of applause, Mr Fraser called for pint glasses, and filled his own to the brim: then standing up, and all his brethren following his example, 'Ma lords and gentlemen (cried he), here is a cup of thanks for the great and undeserved honour you have done your poor errandboys this day.'So saying, he and they drank off their glasses in a trice, and quitting their seats, took their station each behind one of the other guests; exclaiming, 'Noo we're your honours cawdies again.' The nobleman who had bore the first brunt of Mr Fraser's satire, objected to his abdication. He said, as the company was assembled by invitation from the cawdies, he expected they were to be entertained at their expense. 'By no means, my lord (cried Fraser), I wad na he guilty of sic presumption for the wide warldI never affronted a gentleman since I was born; and sure at this age I wonnot offer an indignity to sic an honourable convention.' 'Well (said his Lordship) as you have expended some wit, you have a right to save your money. You have given me good counsel, and I take it in good part. As you have voluntarily quitted your seat, I will take your place with the leave of the good company, and think myself happy to be hailed, Father of the Feast.' He was forthwith elected into the chair, and complimented in a bumper in his new character. The claret continued to circulate without interruption, till the glasses seemed to dance upon the table, and this, perhaps, was a hint to the ladies to call for musicAt eight in the evening the ball began in another apartment: at midnight we went to supper; but it was broad day before I found the way to my lodgings; and, no doubt, his Lordship had a swinging bill to discharge. In short, I have lived so riotously for some weeks, that my uncle begins to be alarmed on the score of my constitution, and very seriously observes, 'that all his own infirmities are owing to such excesses indulged in his youthMrs Tabitha says it would be more to the advantage of my soul as well as body, if, instead of frequenting these scenes of debauchery, I would accompany Mr Moffat and her to hear a sermon of the reverend Mr M'Corkindale.Clinker often exhorts me, with a groan, to take care of my precious health; and even Archy M'Alpine, when he happens to be overtaken (which is oftener the case than I could wish), reads me a long lecture upon temperance and sobriety; and is so very wise and sententious, that, if I could provide him with a professor's chair, I would willingly give up the benefit of his amonitions and service together; for I was tutorsick at alma mater. I am not, however, so much engrossed by the gaieties of Edinburgh, but that I find time to make parties in the family way. We have not only seen all the villas and villages within ten miles of the capital, but we have also crossed the Firth, which is an arm of the sea seven miles broad, that divides Lothian from the shire, or, as the Scots call it, the kingdom of Fife. There is a number of large open seaboats that ply on this passage from Leith to Kinghorn, which is a borough on the other side. In one of these our whole family embarked three days ago, excepting my sister, who, being exceedingly fearful of the water, was left to the care of Mrs Mitchelson. We had an easy and quick passage into Fife, where we visited a number of poor towns on the seaside, including St Andrew's, which is the skeleton of a venerable city; but we were much better pleased with some noble and elegant seats and castles, of which there is a great number in that part of Scotland. Yesterday we took boat again on our return to Leith, with fair wind and agreeable weather; but we had not advanced halfway when the sky was suddenly overcast, and the wind changing, blew directly in our teeth so that we were obliged to turn, or tack the rest of the way. In a word, the gale increased to a storm of wind and rain, attended with such a fog, that we could not see the town of Leith, to which we were bound, nor even the castle of Edinburgh, notwithstanding its high situation. It is not to be doubted but that we were all alarmed on this occasion. And at the same time, most of the passengers were seized with a nausea that produced violent retchings. My aunt desired her brother to order the boatmen, to put back to Kinghorn, and this expedient he actually proposed; but they assured him there was no danger. Mrs Tabitha finding them obstinate, began to scold, and insisted upon my uncle's exerting his authority as a justice of the peace. Sick and peevish as he was, he could not help laughing at this wise proposal, telling her, that his commission did not extend so far, and, if it did, he should let the people take their own way; for he thought it would be great presumption in him to direct them in the exercise of their own profession. Mrs Winifred Jenkins made a general clearance with the assistance of Mr Humphry Clinker, who joined her both in prayer and ejaculation.As he took it for granted that we should not be long in this world, he offered some spiritual consolation to Mrs Tabitha, who rejected it with great disgust, bidding him keep his sermons for those who had leisure to hear such nonsense.My uncle sat, collected in himself, without speaking; my man Archy had recourse to a brandybottle, with which he made so free, that I imagined he had sworn to die of drinking any thing rather than seawater: but the brandy had no more effect upon him in the way of intoxication, than if it had been seawater in good earnest.As for myself, I was too much engrossed by the sickness at my stomach, to think of any thing else. Meanwhile the sea swelled mountains high, the boat pitched with such violence, as if it had been going to pieces; the cordage rattled, the wind roared; the lightning flashed, the thunder bellowed, and the rain descended in a delugeEvery time the vessel was put about, we ship'd a sea that drenched us all to the skin.When, by dint of turning, we thought to have cleared the pier head, we were driven to leeward, and then the boatmen themselves began to fear that the tide would fail before we should fetch up our leeway: the next trip, however, brought us into smooth water, and we were safely landed on the quay, about one o'clock in the afternoon.'To be sure (cried Tabby, when she found herself on terra firma), we must all have perished, if we had not been the particular care of Providence.' 'Yes (replied my uncle), but I am much of the honest highlander's mindafter he had made such a passage as this: his friend told him he was much indebted to Providence;\"Certainly (said Donald), but, by my saul, mon, I'se ne'er trouble Providence again, so long as the brig of Stirling stands.\"'You must know the brig, or bridge of Stirling, stands above twenty miles up the river Forth, of which this is the outletI don't find that our 'squire has suffered in his health from this adventure; but poor Liddy is in a peaking wayI'm afraid this unfortunate girl is uneasy in her mind; and this apprehension distracts me, for she is really an amiable creature. We shall set out tomorrow or next day for Stirling and Glasgow; and we propose to penetrate a little way into the Highlands, before we turn our course to the southwardIn the mean time, commend me to all our friends round Carfax, and believe me to be, ever yours, EDINBURGH, Aug. 8. J. MELFORD To Dr LEWIS. I should be very ungrateful, dear Lewis, if I did not find myself disposed to think and speak favourably of this people, among whom I have met with more kindness, hospitality, and rational entertainment, in a few weeks, than ever I received in any other country during the whole course of my life.Perhaps, the gratitude excited by these benefits may interfere with the impartiality of my remarks; for a man is as apt to be prepossessed by particular favours as to be prejudiced by private motives of disgust. If I am partial, there is, at least, some merit in my conversion from illiberal prejudices which had grown up with my constitution. The first impressions which an Englishman receives in this country, will not contribute to the removal of his prejudices; because he refers every thing he sees to a comparison with the same articles in his own country; and this comparison is unfavourable to Scotland in all its exteriors, such as the face of the country in respect to cultivation, the appearance of the bulk of the people, and the language of conversation in general.I am not so far convinced by Mr Lismahago's arguments, but that I think the Scots would do well, for their own sakes, to adopt the English idioms and pronunciation; those of them especially, who are resolved to push their fortunes in SouthBritainI know, by experience, how easily an Englishman is influenced by the ear, and how apt he is to laugh, when he hears his own language spoken with a foreign or provincial accentI have known a member of the house of commons speak with great energy and precision, without being able to engage attention, because his observations were made in the Scotch dialect, which (no offence to lieutenant Lismahago) certainly gives a clownish air even to sentiments of the greatest dignity and decorum.I have declared my opinion on this head to some of the most sensible men of this country, observing, at the same time, that if they would employ a few natives of England to teach the pronunciation of our vernacular tongue, in twenty years there would be no difference, in point of dialect, between the youth of Edinburgh and of London. The civil regulations of this kingdom and metropolis are taken from very different models from those of England, except in a few particular establishments, the necessary consequences of the union.Their college of justice is a bench of great dignity, filled with judges of character and ability.I have heard some causes tried before this venerable tribunal; and was very much pleased with the pleadings of their advocates, who are by no means deficient either in argument or elocution. The Scottish legislation is founded, in a great measure, on the civil law; consequently, their proceedings vary from those of the English tribunals; but, I think, they have the advantage of us in their method of examining witnesses apart, and in the constitution of their jury, by which they certainly avoid the evil which I mentioned in my last from Lismahago's observation. The university of Edinburgh is supplied with excellent professors in all the sciences; and the medical school, in particular, is famous all over Europe.The students of this art have the best opportunity of learning it to perfection, in all its branches, as there are different courses for the theory of medicine and the practice of medicine; for anatomy, chemistry, botany, and the materia medica, over and above those of mathematics and experimental philosophy; and all these are given by men of distinguished talents. What renders this part of education still more complete, is the advantage of attending the infirmary, which is the best instituted charitable foundation that I ever knew. Now we are talking of charities, here are several hospitals, exceedingly well endowed, and maintained under admirable regulations; and these are not only useful, but ornamental to the city. Among these, I shall only mention the general workhouse, in which all the poor, not otherwise provided for, are employed, according to their different abilities, with such judgment and effect, that they nearly maintain themselves by their labour, and there is not a beggar to be seen within the precincts of this metropolis. It was Glasgow that set the example of this establishment, about thirty years ago.Even the kirk of Scotland, so long reproached with fanaticism and canting, abounds at present with ministers celebrated for their learning, and respectable for their moderation.I have heard their sermons with equal astonishment and pleasure.The good people of Edinburgh no longer think dirt and cobwebs essential to the house of God.Some of their churches have admitted such ornaments as would have excited sedition, even in England, a little more than a century ago; and Psalmody is here practised and taught by a professor from the cathedral of Durham:I should not be surprised, in a few years, to hear it accompanied with an organ. Edinburgh is a hotbed of genius.I have had the good fortune to be made acquainted with many authors of the first distinction; such as the two Humes, Robertson, Smith, Wallace, Blair, Ferguson, Wilkie, c. and I have found them all as agreeable in conversation as they are instructive and entertaining in their writings. These acquaintances I owe to the friendship of Dr Carlyle, who wants nothing but inclination to figure with the rest upon paper. The magistracy of Edinburgh is changed every year by election, and seems to be very well adapted both for state and authority.The lord provost is equal in dignity to the lord mayor of London; and the four bailies are equivalent to the rank of aldermen.There is a dean of guild, who takes cognizance of mercantile affairs; a treasurer; a townclerk; and the council is composed of deacons, one of whom is returned every year, in rotation, as representative of every company of artificers or handicraftsmen. Though this city, from the nature of its situation, can never be made either very convenient or very cleanly, it has, nevertheless, an air of magnificence that commands respect.The castle is an instance of the sublime in scite and architecture.Its fortifications are kept in good order, and there is always in it a garrison of regular soldiers, which is relieved every year; but it is incapable of sustaining a siege carried on according to the modern operations of war.The castle hill, which extends from the outward gate to the upper end of the high street, is used as a public walk for the citizens, and commands a prospect, equally extensive and delightful, over the county of Fife, on the other side of the Frith, and all along the seacoast, which is covered with a succession of towns that would seem to indicate a considerable share of commerce; but, if the truth must be told, these towns have been falling to decay ever since the union, by which the Scots were in a great measure deprived of their trade with France.The palace of Holyroodhouse is a jewel in architecture, thrust into a hollow where it cannot be seen; a situation which was certainly not chosen by the ingenious architect, who must have been confined to the site of the old palace, which was a convent. Edinburgh is considerably extended on the south side, where there are divers little elegant squares built in the English manner; and the citizens have planned some improvements on the north, which, when put in execution, will add greatly to the beauty and convenience of this capital. The seaport is Leith, a flourishing town, about a mile from the city, in the harbour of which I have seen above one hundred ships lying all together. You must know, I had the curiosity to cross the Frith in a passage boat, and stayed two days in Fife, which is remarkably fruitful in corn, and exhibits a surprising number of fine seats, elegantly built, and magnificently furnished. There is an incredible number of noble houses in every part of Scotland that I have seen.Dalkeith, Pinkie, Yester, and lord Hopton's Hopetoun's, all of them within four or five miles of Edinburgh, are princely palaces, in every one of which a sovereign might reside at his case.I suppose the Scots affect these monuments of grandeur.If I may be allowed to mingle censure with my remarks upon a people I revere, I must observe, that their weak side seems to be vanity.I am afraid that even their hospitality is not quite free of ostentation. I think I have discovered among them uncommon pains taken to display their fine linen, of which, indeed, they have great plenty, their furniture, plate, housekeeping, and variety of wines, in which article, it must be owned, they are profuse, if not prodigalA burgher of Edinburgh, not content to vie with a citizen of London, who has ten times his fortune, must excel him in the expence as well as elegance of his entertainments. Though the villas of the Scotch nobility and gentry have generally an air of grandeur and state, I think their gardens and parks are not comparable to those of England; a circumstance the more remarkable, as I was told by the ingenious Mr Phillip Miller of Chelsea, that almost all the gardeners of SouthBritain were natives of Scotland. The verdure of this country is not equal to that of England.The pleasuregrounds are, in my opinion, not so well laid out according to the genius loci; nor are the lawns, and walks, and hedges kept in such delicate order.The trees are planted in prudish rows, which have not such an agreeable natural effect, as when they are thrown into irregular groupes, with intervening glades; and firs, which they generally raise around their houses, look dull and funereal in the summer season.I must confess, indeed, that they yield serviceable timber, and good shelter against the northern blasts; that they grow and thrive in the most barren soil, and continually perspire a fine balsam of turpentine, which must render the air very salutary and sanative to lungs of a tender texture. Tabby and I have been both frightened in our return by sea from the coast of FifeShe was afraid of drowning, and I of catching cold, in consequence of being drenched with seawater; but my fears as well as hers, have been happily disappointed. She is now in perfect health; I wish I could say the same of LiddySomething uncommon is the matter with that poor girl; her colour fades, her appetite fails, and her spirits flagShe is become moping and melancholy, and is often found in tearsHer brother suspects internal uneasiness on account of Wilson, and denounces vengeance against that adventurer.She was, it seems, strongly affected at the ball by the sudden appearance of one Mr Gordon, who strongly resembles the said Wilson; but I am rather suspicious that she caught cold by being overheated with dancing.I have consulted Dr Gregory, an eminent physician of an amiable character, who advises the highland air, and the use of goatmilk whey, which, surely, cannot have a bad effect upon a patient who was born and bred among the mountains of WalesThe doctors opinion is the more agreeable, as we shall find those remedies in the very place which I proposed as the utmost extent of our expeditionI mean the borders of Argyle. Mr Smollett, one of the judges of the commissary court, which is now sitting, has very kindly insisted upon our lodging at his countryhouse, on the banks of LoughLomond, about fourteen miles beyond Glasgow. For this last city we shall set out in two days, and take Stirling in our way, well provided with recommendations from our friends at Edinburgh, whom, I protest, I shall leave with much regret. I am so far from thinking it any hardship to live in this country, that, if I was obliged to lead a town life, Edinburgh would certainly be the headquarters of Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE EDIN., August 8. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, I am now little short of the Ultima Thule, if this appellation properly belongs to the Orkneys or Hebrides. These last are now lying before me, to the amount of some hundreds, scattered up and down the Deucalidonian sea, affording the most picturesque and romantic prospect I ever beheldI write this letter in a gentleman's house, near the town of Inverary which may be deemed the capital of the West Highlands, famous for nothing so much as for the stately castle begun, and actually covered in by the late duke of Argyle, at a prodigious expenceWhether it will ever be completely finished is a question. But, to take things in orderWe left Edinburgh ten days ago; and the further North we proceed, we find Mrs Tabitha the less manageable; so that her inclinations are not of the nature of the loadstone; they point not towards the pole. What made her leave Edinburgh with reluctance at last, if we may believe her own assertions, was a dispute which she left unfinished with Mr Moffat, touching the eternity of hell torments. That gentleman, as he advanced in years, began to be sceptical on this head, till, at length, he declared open war against the common acceptation of the word eternal. He is now persuaded, that eternal signifies no more than an indefinite number of years; and that the most enormous sinner may be quit for nine millions, nine hundred thousand, nine hundred and ninetynine years of hellfire; which term or period, as he very well observes, forms but an inconsiderable drop, as it were, in the ocean of eternityFor this mitigation he contends, as a system agreeable to the ideas of goodness and mercy, which we annex to the supreme BeingOur aunt seemed willing to adopt this doctrine in favour of the wicked; but he hinted that no person whatever was so righteous as to be exempted entirely from punishment in a future state; and that the most pious Christian upon earth might think himself very happy to get off for a fast of seven or eight thousand years in the midst of fire and brimstone. Mrs Tabitha revolted at this dogma, which filled her at once with horror and indignationShe had recourse to the opinion of Humphry Clinker, who roundly declared it was the popish doctrine of purgatory, and quoted scripture in defence of the fire everlasting, prepared for the devil and his angelsThe reverend master Mackcorkendal, and all the theologists and saints of that persuasion were consulted, and some of them had doubts about the matter; which doubts and scruples had begun to infect our aunt, when we took our departure from Edinburgh. We passed through Linlithgow, where there was an elegant royal palace, which is now gone to decay, as well as the town itselfThis too is pretty much the case with Stirling, though it still boasts of a fine old castle in which the kings of Scotland were wont to reside in their minorityBut Glasgow is the pride of Scotland, and, indeed, it might very well pass for an elegant and flourishing city in any part of Christendom. There we had the good fortune to be received into the house of Mr Moore, an eminent surgeon, to whom we were recommended by one of our friends at Edinburgh; and, truly, he could not have done us more essential serviceMr Moore is a merry facetious companion, sensible and shrewd, with a considerable fund of humour; and his wife an agreeable woman, well bred, kind, and obliging. Kindness, which I take to be the essence of goodnature and humanity, is the distinguishing characteristic of the Scotch ladies in their own countryOur landlord shewed us every thing, and introduced us to all the world at Glasgow; where, through his recommendation, we were complimented with the freedom of the town. Considering the trade and opulence of this place, it cannot but abound with gaiety and diversions. Here is a great number of young fellows that rival the youth of the capital in spirit and expence; and I was soon convinced, that all the female beauties of Scotland were not assembled at the hunters ball in EdinburghThe town of Glasgow flourishes in learning as well as in commerceHere is an university, with professors in all the different branches of science, liberally endowed, and judiciously chosenIt was vacation time when I passed, so that I could not entirely satisfy my curiosity; but their mode of education is certainly preferable to ours in some respects. The students are not left to the private instruction of tutors; but taught in public schools or classes, each science by its particular professor or regent. My uncle is in raptures with GlasgowHe not only visited all the manufactures of the place, but made excursions all round to Hamilton, Paisley, Renfrew, and every other place within a dozen miles, where there was any thing remarkable to be seen in art or nature. I believe the exercise, occasioned by those jaunts, was of service to my sister Liddy, whose appetite and spirits begin to reviveMrs Tabitha displayed her attractions as usual, and actually believed she had entangled one Mr Maclellan, a rich inklemanufacturer, in her snares; but when matters came to an explanation, it appeared that his attachment was altogether spiritual, founded upon an intercourse of devotion, at the meeting of Mr John Wesley; who, in the course of his evangelical mission, had come hither in personAt length, we set out for the banks of LoughLomond, passing through the little borough of Dumbarton, or (as my uncle will have it) Dunbritton, where there is a castle, more curious than any thing of the kind I had ever seen. It is honoured with a particular description by the elegant Buchanan, as an arx inexpugnabilis, and, indeed, it must have been impregnable by the antient manner of besieging. It is a rock of considerable extent, rising with a double top, in an angle formed by the confluence of two rivers, the Clyde and the Leven; perpendicular and inaccessible on all sides, except in one place where the entrance is fortified; and there is no rising ground in the neighbourhood from whence it could be damaged by any kind of battery. From Dumbarton, the West Highlands appear in the form of huge, dusky mountains, piled one over another; but this prospect is not at all surprising to a native of GlamorganWe have fixed our headquarters at Cameron, a very neat countryhouse belonging to commissary Smollet, where we found every sort of accommodation we could desireIt is situated like a Druid's temple, in a grove of oak, close by the side of LoughLomond, which is a surprising body of pure transparent water, unfathomably deep in many places, six or seven miles broad, four and twenty miles in length, displaying above twenty green islands, covered with wood; some of them cultivated for corn, and many of them stocked with red deerThey belong to different gentlemen, whose seats are scattered along the banks of the lake, which are agreeably romantic beyond all conception. My uncle and I have left the women at Cameron, as Mrs Tabitha would by no means trust herself again upon the water, and to come hither it was necessary to cross a small inlet of the sea, in an open ferryboatThis country appears more and more wild and savage the further we advance; and the People are as different from the Lowland Scots, in their looks, garb, and language, as the mountaineers of Brecknock are from the inhabitants of Herefordshire. When the Lowlanders want to drink a chearuppingcup, they go to the public house, called the Changehouse, and call for a chopine of twopenny, which is a thin, yeasty beverage, made of malt; not quite so strong as the tablebeer of England,This is brought in a pewter stoop, shaped like a skittle, from whence it is emptied into a quaff; that is, a curious cup made of different pieces of wood, such as box and ebony, cut into little staves, joined alternately, and secured with delicate hoops, having two cars or handlesIt holds about a gill, is sometimes tipt round the mouth with silver, and has a plate of the same metal at bottom, with the landlord's cypher engraved.The Highlanders, on the contrary, despise this liquor, and regale themselves with whisky; a malt spirit, as strong as geneva, which they swallow in great quantities, without any signs of inebriation. They are used to it from the cradle, and find it an excellent preservative against the winter cold, which must be extreme on these mountainsI am told that it is given with great success to infants, as a cordial in the confluent smallpox, when the eruption seems to flag, and the symptoms grow unfavourableThe Highlanders are used to eat much more animal food than falls to the share of their neighbours in the LowcountryThey delight in hunting; have plenty of deer and other game, with a great number of sheep, goats, and blackcattle running wild, which they scruple not to kill as vension, without being much at pains to ascertain the property. Inverary is but a poor town, though it stands immediately under the protection of the duke of Argyle, who is a mighty prince in this part of Scotland. The peasants live in wretched cabins, and seem very poor; but the gentlemen are tolerably well lodged, and so loving to strangers, that a man runs some risque of his life from their hospitalityIt must be observed that the poor Highlanders are now seen to disadvantage. They have been not only disarmed by act of parliament, but also deprived of their ancient garb, which was both graceful and convenient; and what is a greater hardship still, they are compelled to wear breeches; a restraint which they cannot bear with any degree of patience: indeed, the majority wear them, not in the proper place, but on poles or long staves over their shouldersThey are even debarred the use of their striped stuff called Tartane, which was their own manufacture, prized by them above all the velvets, brocades, and tissues of Europe and Asia. They now lounge along in loose great coats, of coarse russet, equally mean and cumbersome, and betray manifest marks of dejectionCertain it is, the government could not have taken a more effectual method to break their national spirit. We have had princely sport in hunting the stag on these mountains. These are the lonely hills of Morven, where Fingal and his heroes enjoyed the same pastime; I feel an enthusiastic pleasure when I survey the brown heath that Ossian wont to tread; and hear the wind whistle through the bending grassWhen I enter our landlord's hall, I look for the suspended harp of that divine bard, and listen in hopes of hearing the aerial sound of his respected spiritThe poems of Ossian are in every mouthA famous antiquarian of this country, the laird of Macfarlane, at whose house we dined a few days ago, can repeat them all in the original Gallick, which has a great affinity to the Welch, not only in the general sound, but also in a great number of radical words; and I make no doubt that they are both sprung from the same origin. I was not a little surprised, when asking a Highlander one day, if he knew where we should find any game? he replied, 'hu niel Sassenagh', which signifies no English: the very same answer I should have received from a Welchman, and almost in the same words. The Highlanders have no other name for the people of the Lowcountry, but Sassenagh, or Saxons; a strong presumption, that the Lowland Scots and the English are derived from the same stockThe peasants of these hills strongly resemble those of Wales in their looks, their manners, and habitations; every thing I see, and hear, and feel, seems WelchThe mountains, vales, and streams; the air and climate; the beef, mutton, and game, are all WelchIt must be owned, however, that this people are better Provided than we in some articlesThey have plenty of red deer and roebuck, which are fat and delicious at this season of the year. Their sea teems with amazing quantities of the finest fish in the world, and they find means to procure very good claret at a very small expence. Our landlord is a man of consequence in this part of the country; a cadet from the family of Argyle and hereditary captain of one of his castlesHis name, in plain English, is Dougal Campbell; but as there is a great number of the same appellation, they are distinguished (like the Welch) by patronimics; and as I have known an antient Briton called Madoc apMorgan apJenkin, apJones, our Highland chief designs himself Dou'l Macamish mac'oul ichian, signifying Dougal, the son of James, the son of Dougal, the son of John. He has travelled in the course of his education, and is disposed to make certain alterations in his domestic oeconomy; but he finds it impossible to abolish the ancient customs of the family; some of which are ludicrous enoughHis piper for example, who is an hereditary officer of the household, will not part with the least particle of his privileges. He has a right to wear the kilt, or ancient Highland dress, with the purse, pistol, and durka broad yellow ribbon, fixed to the chanterpipe, is thrown over his shoulder, and trails along the ground, while he performs the function of his minstrelsy; and this, I suppose, is analogous to the pennon or flag which was formerly carried before every knight in battle.He plays before the laird every Sunday in his way to the kirk, which he circles three times, performing the family march which implies defiance to all the enemies of the clan; and every morning he plays a full hour by the clock, in the great hall, marching backwards and forwards all the time, with a solemn pace, attended by the laird's kinsmen, who seem much delighted with the musicIn this exercise, he indulges them with a variety of pibrochs or airs, suited to the different passions, which he would either excite or assuage. Mr Campbell himself, who performs very well on the violin, has an invincible antipathy to the sound of the Highland bagpipe, which sings in the nose with a most alarming twang, and, indeed, is quite intolerable to ears of common sensibility, when aggravated by the echo of a vaulted hallHe therefore begged the piper would have some mercy upon him, and dispense with this part of the morning serviceA consultation of the clan being held on this occasion, it was unanimously agreed, that the laird's request could not be granted without a dangerous encroachment upon the customs of the familyThe piper declared, he could not give up for a moment the privilege he derived from his ancestors; nor would the laird's relations forego an entertainment which they valued above all othersThere was no remedy; Mr Campbell, being obliged to acquiesce, is fain to stop his ears with cotton; to fortify his head with three or four nightcaps and every morning retire into the penetralia of his habitation, in order to avoid this diurnal annoyance. When the music ceases, he produces himself at an open window that looks into the courtyard, which is by this time filled with a crowd of his vassals and dependents, who worship his first appearance, by uncovering their heads, and bowing to the earth with the most humble prostration. As all these people have something to communicate in the way of proposal, complaint, or petition, they wait patiently till the laird comes forth, and, following him in his walks, are favoured each with a short audience in his turn. Two days ago, he dispatched above an hundred different sollicitors, in walking with us to the house of a neighbouring gentleman, where we dined by invitation. Our landlord's housekeeping is equally rough and hospitable, and savours much of the simplicity of ancient times: the great hall, paved with flat stones, is about fortyfive feet by twentytwo, and serves not only for a diningroom, but also for a bedchamber, to gentlemendependents and hangerson of the family. At night, half a dozen occasional beds are ranged on each side along the wall. These are made of fresh heath, pulled up by the roots, and disposed in such a manner as to make a very agreeable couch, where they lie, without any other covering than the plaidMy uncle and I were indulged with separate chambers and down beds which we begged to exchange for a layer of heath; and indeed I never slept so much to my satisfaction. It was not only soft and elastic, but the plant, being in flower, diffused an agreeable fragrance, which is wonderfully refreshing and restorative. Yesterday we were invited to the funeral of an old lady, the grandmother of a gentleman in this neighbourhood, and found ourselves in the midst of fifty people, who were regaled with a sumptuous feast, accompanied by the music of a dozen pipers. In short, this meeting had all the air of a grand festival; and the guests did such honour to the entertainment, that many of them could not stand when we were reminded of the business on which we had met. The company forthwith taking horse, rode in a very irregular cavalcade to the place of interment, a church, at the distance of two long miles from the castle. On our arrival, however, we found we had committed a small oversight, in leaving the corpse behind; so we were obliged to wheel about, and met the old gentlewoman half way, being carried upon poles by the nearest relations of her family, and attended by the coronach, composed of a multitude of old hags, who tore their hair, beat their breasts, and howled most hideously. At the grave, the orator, or senachie, pronounced the panegyric of the defunct, every period being confirmed by a yell of the coronach. The body was committed to the earth, the pipers playing a pibroch all the time; and all the company standing uncovered. The ceremony was closed with the discharge of pistols; then we returned to the castle, resumed the bottle, and by midnight there was not a sober person in the family, the females excepted. The 'squire and I were, with some difficulty, permitted to retire with our landlord in the evening; but our entertainer was a little chagrined at our retreat; and afterwards seemed to think it a disparagement to his family, that not above a hundred gallons of whisky had been drunk upon such a solemn occasion. This morning we got up by four, to hunt the roebuck, and, in half an hour, found breakfast ready served in the hall. The hunters consisted of Sir George Colquhoun and me, as strangers (my uncle not chusing to be of the party), of the laird in person, the laird's brother, the laird's brother's son, the laird's sister's son, the laird's father's brother's son, and all their foster brothers, who are counted parcel of the family: but we were attended by an infinite number of Gaelly's, or ragged Highlanders without shoes or stockings. The following articles formed our morning's repast: one kit of boiled eggs; a second, full of butter; a third full of cream; an entire cheese, made of goat's milk; a large earthen pot full of honey; the best part of a ham; a cold venison pasty; a bushel of oat meal, made in thin cakes and bannocks, with a small wheaten loaf in the middle for the strangers; a large stone bottle full of whisky, another of brandy, and a kilderkin of ale. There was a ladle chained to the cream kit, with curious wooden bickers to be filled from this reservoir. The spirits were drank out of a silver quaff, and the ale out of hems: great justice was done to the collation by the guest in general; one of them in particular ate above two dozen of hard eggs, with a proportionable quantity of bread, butter, and honey; nor was one drop of liquor left upon the board. Finally, a large roll of tobacco was presented by way of desert, and every individual took a comfortable quid, to prevent the bad effects of the morning air. We had a fine chace over the mountains, after a roebuck, which we killed, and I got home time enough to drink tea with Mrs Campbell and our 'squire. Tomorrow we shall set out on our return for Cameron. We propose to cross the Frith of Clyde, and take the towns of Greenock and PortGlasgow in our way. This circuit being finished, we shall turn our faces to the south, and follow the sun with augmented velocity, in order to enjoy the rest of the autumn in England, where Boreas is not quite so biting as he begins already to be on the tops of these northern hills. But our progress from place to place shall continue to be specified in these detached journals of Yours always, J. MELFORD ARGYLSHIRE, Sept. 3. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, About a fortnight is now elapsed, since we left the capital of Scotland, directing our course towards Stirling, where we lay. The castle of this place is such another as that of Edinburgh, and affords a surprising prospect of the windings of the river Forth, which are so extraordinary, that the distance from hence to Alloa by land, is but forty miles, and by water it is twentyfour. Alloa is a neat thriving town, that depends in a great measure on the commerce of Glasgow, the merchants of which send hither tobacco and other articles, to be deposited in warehouses for exportation from the Frith of Forth. In our way hither we visited a flourishing ironwork, where, instead of burning wood, they use coal, which they have the art of clearing in such a manner as frees it from the sulphur, that would otherwise render the metal too brittle for working. Excellent coal is found in almost every part of Scotland. The soil of this district produces scarce any other grain but oats, lid barley; perhaps because it is poorly cultivated, and almost altogether uninclosed. The few inclosures they have consist of paultry walls of loose stones gathered from the fields, which indeed they cover, as if they had been scattered on purpose. When I expressed my surprize that the peasants did not disencumber their grounds of these stones; a gentleman, well acquainted with the theory as well as practice of farming, assured me that the stones, far from being prejudicial, were serviceable to the crop. This philosopher had ordered a field of his own to be cleared, manured and sown with barley, and the produce was more scanty than before. He caused the stones to be replaced, and next year the crop was as good as ever. The stones were removed a second time, and the harvest failed; they were again brought back, and the ground retrieved its fertility. The same experiment has been tried in different parts of Scotland with the same successAstonished at this information, I desired to know in what manner he accounted for this strange phenomenon; and he said there were three ways in which the stones might be serviceable. They might possibly restrain an excess in the perspiration of the earth, analogous to colliquative sweats, by which the human body is sometimes wasted and consumed. They might act as so many fences to protect the tender blade from the piercing winds of the spring; or, by multiplying the reflexion of the sun, they might increase the warmth, so as to mitigate the natural chilness of the soil and climateBut, surely this excessive perspiration might be more effectually checked by different kinds of manure, such as ashes, lime, chalk, or marl, of which last it seems there are many pits in this kingdom: as for the warmth, it would be much more equally obtained by inclosures; the cultivation would require less labour; and the ploughs, harrows, and horses, would not suffer half the damage which they now sustain. These northwestern parts are by no means fertile in corn. The ground is naturally barren and moorish. The peasants are poorly lodged, meagre in their looks, mean in their apparel, and remarkably dirty. This last reproach they might easily wash off, by means of those lakes, rivers, and rivulets of pure water, with which they are so liberally supplied by nature. Agriculture cannot be expected to flourish where the farms are small, the leases short, and the husbandman begins upon a rack rent, without a sufficient stock to answer the purposes of improvement. The granaries of Scotland are the banks of the Tweed, the counties of East and MidLothian, the Carse of Gowrie, in Perthshire, equal in fertility to any part of England, and some tracts in Aberdeenshire and Murray, where I am told the harvest is more early than in Northumberland, although they lie above two degrees farther north. I have a strong curiosity to visit many places beyond the Forth and the Tay, such as Perth, Dundee, Montrose, and Aberdeen, which are towns equally elegant and thriving; but the season is too far advanced to admit of this addition to my original plan. I am so far happy as to have seen Glasgow, which, to the best of my recollection and judgment, is one of the prettiest towns in Europe; and, without all doubt, it is one of the most flourishing in Great Britain. In short, it is a perfect beehive in point of industry. It stands partly on a gentle declivity; but the greatest part of it is in a plain, watered by the river Clyde. The streets are straight, open, airy, and well paved; and the houses lofty and well built of hewn stone. At the upper end of the town, there is a venerable cathedral, that may be compared with Yorkminster or Westminster; and, about the middle of the descent from this to the Cross, is the college, a respectable pile of building, with all manner of accommodation for the professors and students, including an elegant library, and a observatory well provided with astronomical instruments. The number of inhabitants is said to amount to thirty thousand; and marks of opulence and independency appear in every quarter of this commercial city, which, however, is not without its inconveniences and defects. The water of their public pumps is generally hard and brackish, an imperfection the loss excusable, as the river Clyde runs by their doors, in the lower part of the town; and there are rivulets and springs above the cathedral, sufficient to fill a large reservoir with excellent water, which might be thence distributed to all the different parts of the city. It is of more consequence to consult the health of the inhabitants in this article than to employ so much attention in beautifying their town with new streets, squares, and churches. Another defect, not so easily remedied, is the shallowness of the river, which will not float vessels of any burthen within ten or twelve miles of the city; so that the merchants are obliged to load and unload their ships at Greenock and PortGlasgow, situated about fourteen miles nearer the mouth of the Frith, where it is about two miles broad. The people of Glasgow have a noble spirit of enterpriseMr Moore, a surgeon, to whom I was recommended from Edinburgh, introduced me to all the principal merchants of the place. Here I became acquainted with Mr Cochran, who may be stiled one of the sages of this kingdom. He was first magistrate at the time of the last rebellion. I sat as member when he was examined in the house of commons, upon which occasion Mr P observed he had never heard such a sensible evidence given at that bar. I was also introduced to Dr John Gordon, a patriot of a truly Roman spirit, who is the father of the linen manufacture in this place, and was the great promoter of the city workhouse, infirmary, and other works of public utility. Had he lived in ancient Rome, he would have been honoured with a statue at the public expence. I moreover conversed with one Mr Gssfd, whom I take to be one of the greatest merchants in Europe. In the last war, he is said to have had at one time five and twenty ships with their cargoes, his own property, and to have traded for above half a million sterling ayear. The last war was a fortunate period for the commerce of GlasgowThe merchants, considering that their ships bound for America, launching out at once into the Atlantic by the north of Ireland, pursued a track very little frequented by privateers, resolved to insure one another, and saved a very considerable sum by this resolution, as few or none of their ships were takenYou must know I have a sort of national attachment to this part of ScotlandThe great church dedicated to St Mongah, the river Clyde, and other particulars that smack of our Welch language and customs, contribute to flatter me with the notion, that these people are the descendants of the Britons, who once possessed this country. Without all question, this was a Cumbrian kingdom: its capital was Dumbarton (a corruption of Dunbritton) which still exists as a royal borough, at the influx of the Clyde and Leven, ten miles below Glasgow. The same neighbourhood gave birth to St Patrick, the apostle of Ireland, at a place where there is still a church and village, which retain his name. Hard by are some vestiges of the famous Roman wall, built in the reign of Antonine, from the Clyde to the Forth, and fortified with castles, to restrain the incursions of the Scots or Caledonians, who inhabited the WestHighlands. In a line parallel to this wall, the merchants of Glasgow have determined to make a navigable canal betwixt the two Firths which will be of incredible advantage to their commerce, in transporting merchandize from one side of the island to the other. From Glasgow we travelled along the Clyde, which is a delightful stream, adorned on both sides with villas, towns, and villages. Here is no want of groves, and meadows, and cornfields interspersed; but on this side of Glasgow, there is little other grain than oats and barley; the first are much better, the last much worse, than those of the same species in England. I wonder, there is so little rye, which is a grain that will thrive in almost any soil; and it is still more surprising, that the cultivation of potatoes should be so much neglected in the Highlands, where the poor people have not meal enough to supply them with bread through the winter. On the other side of the river are the towns of Paisley and Renfrew. The first, from an inconsiderable village, is become one of the most flourishing places of the kingdom, enriched by the linen, cambrick, flowered lawn, and silk manufactures. It was formerly noted for a rich monastery of the monks of Clugny, who wrote the famous ScotiChronicon, called The Black Book of Paisley. The old abbey still remains, converted into a dwellinghouse, belonging to the earl of Dundonald. Renfrew is a pretty town, on the banks of Clyde, capital of the shire, which was heretofore the patrimony of the Stuart family, and gave the title of baron to the king's eldest son, which is still assumed by the prince of Wales. The Clyde we left a little on our lefthand at Dunbritton, where it widens into an aestuary or frith, being augmented by the influx of the Leven. On this spot stands the castle formerly called Alcluyd, washed, by these two rivers on all sides, except a narrow isthmus, which at every springtide is overflowed. The whole is a great curiosity, from the quality and form of the rock, as well as from the nature of its situationWe now crossed the water of Leven, which, though nothing near so considerable as the Clyde, is much more transparent, pastoral, and delightful. This charming stream is the outlet of LoughLomond, and through a tract of four miles pursues its winding course, murmuring over a bed of pebbles, till it joins the Frith at Dunbritton. A very little above its source, on the lake, stands the house of Cameron, belonging to Mr Smollett, so embosomed in an oak wood, that we did not see it till we were within fifty yards of the door. I have seen the Lago di Garda, Albano, De Vico, Bolsena, and Geneva, and, upon my honour, I prefer LoughLomond to them all, a preference which is certainly owing to the verdant islands that seem to float upon its surface, affording the most inchanting objects of repose to the excursive view. Nor are the banks destitute of beauties, which even partake of the sublime. On this side they display a sweet variety of woodland, cornfield, and pasture, with several agreeable villas emerging as it were out of the lake, till, at some distance, the prospect terminates in huge mountains covered with heath, which being in the bloom, affords a very rich covering of purple. Every thing here is romantic beyond imagination. This country is justly stiled the Arcadia of Scotland; and I don't doubt but it may vie with Arcadia in every thing but climate.I am sure it excels it in verdure, wood, and water.What say you to a natural bason of pure water, near thirty miles long, and in some places seven miles broad, and in many above a hundred fathom deep, having four and twenty habitable islands, some of them stocked with deer, and all of them covered with wood; containing immense quantities of delicious fish, salmon, pike, trout, perch, flounders, eels, and powans, the last a delicate kind of freshwater herring peculiar to this lake; and finally communicating with the sea, by sending off the Leven, through which all those species (except the powan) make their exit and entrance occasionally? Inclosed I send you the copy of a little ode to this river, by Dr Smollett, who was born on the banks of it, within two miles of the place where I am now writing.It is at least picturesque and accurately descriptive, if it has no other merit.There is an idea of truth in an agreeable landscape taken from nature, which pleases me more than the gayest fiction which the most luxuriant fancy can display. I have other remarks to make; but as my paper is full, I must reserve them till the next occasion. I shall only observe at present, that I am determined to penetrate at least forty miles into the Highlands, which now appear like a vast fantastic vision in the clouds, inviting the approach of Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE CAMERON, Aug. 28. ODE TO LEVENWATER On Leven's banks, while free to rove, And tune the rural pipe to love; I envied not the happiest swain That ever trod th' Arcadian plain. Pure stream! in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave; No torrents stain thy limpid source; No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread; While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout in speckled pride; The salmon, monarch of the tide; The ruthless pike, intent on war; The silver eel, and motled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bow'rs of birch, and groves of pine, And hedges flow'r'd with eglantine. Still on thy banks so gayly green, May num'rous herds and flocks be seen, And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds piping in the dale, And ancient faith that knows no guile, And industry imbrown'd with toil, And hearts resolv'd, and hands prepar'd, The blessings they enjoy to guard.  The par is a small fish, not unlike the smelt, which it rivals in delicacy and flavour. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, If I was disposed to be critical, I should say this house of Cameron is too near the lake, which approaches, on one side, to within six or seven yards of the window. It might have been placed in a higher site, which would have afforded a more extensive prospect and a drier atmosphere; but this imperfection is not chargeable on the present proprietor, who purchased it ready built, rather than be at the trouble of repairing his own familyhouse of Bonhill, which stands two miles from hence on the Leven, so surrounded with plantation, that it used to be known by the name of the Mavis (or thrush) Nest. Above that house is a romantic glen or clift of a mountain, covered with hanging woods having at bottom a stream of fine water that forms a number of cascades in its descent to join the Leven; so that the scene is quite enchanting. A captain of a man of war, who had made the circuit of the globe with Mr Anson, being conducted to this glen, exclaimed, 'Juan Fernandez, by God!' Indeed, this country would be a perfect paradise, if it was not, like Wales, cursed with a weeping climate, owing to the same cause in both, the neighbourhood of high mountains, and a westerly situation, exposed to the vapours of the Atlantic ocean. This air, however, notwithstanding its humidity, is so healthy, that the natives are scarce ever visited by any other disease than the smallpox, and certain cutaneous evils, which are the effects of dirty living, the great and general reproach of the commonalty of this kingdom. Here are a great many living monuments of longaevity; and among the rest a person, whom I treat with singular respect, as a venerable druid, who has lived near ninety years, without pain or sickness, among oaks of his own planting.He was once proprietor of these lands; but being of a projecting spirit, some of his schemes miscarried, and he was obliged to part with his possession, which hath shifted hands two or three times since that period; but every succeeding proprietor hath done every thing in his power, to make his old age easy and comfortable. He has a sufficiency to procure the necessaries of life; and he and his old woman reside in a small convenient farmhouse, having a little garden which he cultivates with his own hands. This ancient couple live in great health, peace, and harmony, and, knowing no wants, enjoy the perfection of content. Mr Smollet calls him the admiral, because he insists upon steering his pleasureboat upon the lake; and he spends most of his time in ranging through the woods, which he declares he enjoys as much as if they were still his own propertyI asked him the other day, if he was never sick, and he answered, Yes; he had a slight fever the year before the union. If he was not deaf, I should take much pleasure in his conversation; for he is very intelligent, and his memory is surprisingly retentiveThese are the happy effects of temperance, exercise, and good nature Notwithstanding all his innocence, however, he was the cause of great perturbation to my man Clinker, whose natural superstition has been much injured, by the histories of witches, fairies, ghosts, and goblins, which he has heard in this countryOn the evening after our arrival, Humphry strolled into the wood, in the course of his meditation, and all at once the admiral stood before him, under the shadow of a spreading oak. Though the fellow is far from being timorous in cases that are not supposed preternatural, he could not stand the sight of this apparition, but ran into the kitchen, with his hair standing on end, staring wildly, and deprived of utterance. Mrs Jenkins, seeing him in this condition, screamed aloud, 'Lord have mercy upon us, he has seen something!' Mrs Tabitha was alarmed, and the whole house in confusion. When he was recruited with a dram, I desired him to explain the meaning of all this agitation; and, with some reluctance, he owned he had seen a spirit, in the shape of an old man with a white beard, a black cap, and a plaid nightgown. He was undeceived by the admiral in person, who, coming in at this juncture, appeared to be a creature of real flesh and blood. Do you know how we fare in this Scottish paradise? We make free with our landlord's mutton, which is excellent, his poultryyard, his garden, his dairy, and his cellar, which are all well stored. We have delicious salmon, pike, trout, perch, par, c. at the door, for the taking. The Frith of Clyde, on the other side of the hill, supplies us with mullet, red and grey, cod, mackarel, whiting, and a variety of seafish, including the finest fresh herrings I ever tasted. We have sweet, juicy beef, and tolerable veal, with delicate bread from the little town of Dunbritton; and plenty of partridge, growse, heath cock, and other game in presents. We have been visited by all the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, and they have entertained us at their houses, not barely with hospitality, but with such marks of cordial affection, as one would wish to find among near relations, after an absence of many years. I told you, in my last, I had projected an excursion to the Highlands, which project I have now happily executed, under the auspices of Sir George Colquhoun, a colonel in the Dutch service, who offered himself as our conductor on this occasion. Leaving our women at Cameron, to the care and inspection of Lady H C, we set out on horseback for Inverary, the county town of Argyle, and dined on the road with the Laird of Macfarlane, the greatest genealogist I ever knew in any country, and perfectly acquainted with all the antiquities of Scotland. The Duke of Argyle has an old castle in Inverary, where he resides when he is in Scotland; and hard by is the shell of a noble Gothic palace, built by the last duke, which, when finished, will be a great ornament to this part of the Highlands. As for Inverary, it is a place of very little importance. This country is amazingly wild, especially towards the mountains, which are heaped upon the backs of one another, making a most stupendous appearance of savage nature, with hardly any signs of cultivation, or even of population. All is sublimity, silence, and solitude. The people live together in glens or bottoms, where they are sheltered from the cold and storms of winter: but there is a margin of plain ground spread along the sea side, which is well inhabited and improved by the arts of husbandry; and this I take to be one of the most agreeable tracts of the whole island; the sea not only keeps it warm, and supplies it with fish, but affords one of the most ravishing prospects in the whole world; I mean the appearance of the Hebrides, or Western Islands to the number of three hundred, scattered as far as the eye can reach, in the most agreeable confusion. As the soil and climate of the Highlands are but ill adapted to the cultivation of corn, the people apply themselves chiefly to the breeding and feeding of black cattle, which turn to good account. Those animals run wild all the winter, without any shelter or subsistence, but what they can find among the heath. When the snow lies so deep and hard, that they cannot penetrate to the roots of the grass, they make a diurnal progress, guided by a sure instinct, to the seaside at low water, where they feed on the alga marina, and other plants that grow upon the beach. Perhaps this branch of husbandry, which required very little attendance and labour, is one of the principal causes of that idleness and want of industry, which distinguishes these mountaineers in their own country. When they come forth into the world, they become as diligent and alert as any people upon earth. They are undoubtedly a very distinct species from their fellow subjects of the Lowlands, against whom they indulge an ancient spirit of animosity; and this difference is very discernible even among persons of family and education. The Lowlanders are generally cool and circumspect, the Highlanders fiery and ferocious:' but this violence of their passions serves only to inflame the zeal of their devotion to strangers, which is truly enthusiastic. We proceeded about twenty miles beyond Inverary, to the house of a gentleman, a friend of our conductor, where we stayed a few days, and were feasted in such a manner, that I began to dread the consequence to my constitution. Notwithstanding the solitude that prevails among these mountains, there is no want of people in the Highlands. I am credibly informed that the duke of Argyle can assemble five thousand men in arms, of his own clan and surname, which is Campbell; and there is besides a tribe of the same appellation, whose chief' is the Earl of Breadalbine. The Macdonalds are as numerous, and remarkably warlike: the Camerons, M'Leods, Frasers, Grants, M'Kenzies, M'Kays, M'Phersons, M'Intoshes, are powerful clans; so that if all the Highlanders, including the inhabitants of the Isles, were united, they could bring into the field an army of forty thousand fighting men, capable of undertaking the most dangerous enterprize. We have lived to see four thousand of them, without discipline, throw the whole kingdom of Great Britain into confusion. They attacked and defeated two armies of regular troops accustomed to service. They penetrated into the centre of England; and afterwards marched back with deliberation, in the face of two other armies, through an enemy's country, where every precaution was taken to cut off their retreat. I know not any other people in Europe, who, without the use or knowledge of arms, will attack regular forces sword in hand, if their chief will head them in battle. When disciplined, they cannot fail of being excellent soldiers. They do not walk like the generality of mankind, but trot and bounce like deer, as if they moved upon springs. They greatly excel the Lowlanders in all the exercises that require agility; they are incredibly abstemious, and patient of hunger and fatigue,so steeled against the weather, that in travelling, even when the ground is covered with snow, they never look for a house, or any other shelter but their plaid, in which they wrap themselves up, and go to sleep under the cope of heaven. Such people, in quality of soldiers, must be invincible, when the business is to perform quick marches in a difficult country, to strike sudden strokes, beat up the enemy's quarters, harrass their cavalry, and perform expeditions without the formality of magazines, baggage, forage, and artillery. The chieftainship of the Highlanders is a very dangerous influence operating at the extremity of the island, where the eyes and hands of government cannot be supposed to see and act with precision and vigour. In order to break the force of clanship, administration has always practised the political maxim, Divide et impera. The legislature hath not only disarmed these mountaineers, but also deprived them of their antient garb, which contributed in a great measure to keep up their military spirit; and their slavish tenures are all dissolved by act of parliament; so that they are at present as free and independent of their chiefs, as the law can make them: but the original attachment still remains, and is founded on something prior to the feudal system, about which the writers of this age have made such a pother, as if it was a new discovery, like the Copernican system. Every peculiarity of policy, custom, and even temperament, is affectedly traced to this origin, as if the feudal constitution had not been common to almost all the natives of Europe. For my part, I expect to see the use of trunkhose and buttered ale ascribed to the influence of the feudal system. The connection between the clans and their chiefs is, without all doubt, patriarchal. It is founded on hereditary regard and affection, cherished through a long succession of ages. The clan consider the chief as their father, they bear his name, they believe themselves descended from his family, and they obey him as their lord, with all the ardour of filial love and veneration; while he, on his part, exerts a paternal authority, commanding, chastising, rewarding, protecting, and maintaining them as his own children. If the legislature would entirely destroy this connection, it must compel the Highlanders to change their habitation and their names. Even this experiment has been formerly tried without successIn the reign of James VI a battle was fought within a few short miles of this place, between two clans, the M'Gregors and the Colquhouns, in which the latter were defeated: the Laird of M'Gregor made such a barbarous use of his victory, that he was forfeited and outlawed by act of parliament: his lands were given to the family of Montrose, and his clan were obliged to change their name. They obeyed so far, as to call themselves severally Campbell, Graham, or Drummond, the surnames of the families of Argyle, Montrose, and Perth, that they might enjoy the protection of those houses; but they still added M'Gregor to their new appellation; and as their chief was deprived of his estate, they robbed and plundered for his subsistence.Mr Cameron of Lochiel, the chief of that clan, whose father was attainted for having been concerned in the last rebellion, returning from France in obedience to a proclamation and act of parliament, passed at the beginning of the late war, payed a visit to his own country, and hired a farm in the neighbourhood of his father's house, which had been burnt to the ground. The clan, though ruined and scattered, no sooner heard of his arrival than they flocked to him from all quarters, to welcome his return, and in a few days stocked his farm with seven hundred black cattle, which they had saved in the general wreck of their affairs: but their beloved chief, who was a promising youth, did not live to enjoy the fruits of their fidelity and attachment. The most effectual method I know to weaken, and at length destroy this influence, is to employ the commonalty in such a manner as to give them a taste of property and independence. In vain the government grants them advantageous leases on the forfeited estates, if they have no property to prosecute the means of improvementThe sea is an inexhaustible fund of riches; but the fishery cannot be carried on without vessels, casks, salt, lines, nets, and other tackle. I conversed with a sensible man of this country, who, from a real spirit of patriotism had set up a fishery on the coast, and a manufacture of coarse linen, for the employment of the poor Highlanders. Cod is here in such plenty, that he told me he had seen several hundred taken on one line, at one hawlIt must be observed, however, that the line was of immense length, and had two thousand hooks, baited with muscles; but the fish was so superior to the cod caught on the banks of Newfoundland, that his correspondent at Lisbon sold them immediately at his own price, although Lent was just over when they arrived, and the people might be supposed quite cloyed with this kind of dietHis linen manufacture was likewise in a prosperous way, when the late war intervening, all his best hands were pressed into the service. It cannot be expected, that the gentlemen of this country should execute commercial schemes to render their vassals independent; nor, indeed, are such schemes suited to their way of life and inclination; but a company of merchants might, with proper management, turn to good account a fishery established in this part of ScotlandOur people have a strange itch to colonize America, when the uncultivated parts of our own island might be settled to greater advantage. After having rambled through the mountains and glens of Argyle, we visited the adjacent islands of Ila, Jura, Mull, and Icomkill. In the first, we saw the remains of a castle, built in a lake, where Macdonald, lord or king of the isles, formerly resided. Jura is famous for having given birth to one Mackcrain, who lived one hundred and eighty years in one house, and died in the reign of Charles the Second. Mull affords several bays, where there is safe anchorage: in one of which, the Florida, a ship of the Spanish armada, was blown up by one of Mr Smollett's ancestorsAbout forty years ago, John duke of Argyle is said to have consulted the Spanish registers, by which it appeared, that this ship had the military chest on boardHe employed experienced divers to examine the wreck; and they found the hull of the vessel still entire, but so covered with sand, that they could not make their way between decks; however, they picked up several pieces of plate, that were scattered about in the bay, and a couple of fine brass cannon. Icolmkill, or Iona, is a small island which St Columba chose for his habitationIt was respected for its sanctity, and college or seminary of ecclesiasticsPart of its church is still standing, with the tombs of several Scottish, Irish, and Danish sovereigns, who were here interredThese islanders are very bold and dexterous watermen, consequently the better adapted to the fishery: in their manners they are less savage and impetuous than their countrymen on the continent; and they speak the Erse or Gaelick in its greatest purity. Having sent round our horses by land, we embarked in the distinct of Cowal, for Greenock, which is a neat little town, on the other side of the Frith, with a curious harbour formed by three stone jetties, carried out a good way into the seaNewportGlasgow is such another place, about two miles higher up. Both have a face of business and plenty, and are supported entirely by the shipping of Glasgow, of which I counted sixty large vessels in these harboursTaking boat again at Newport, we were in less than an hour landed on the other side, within two short miles of our headquarters, where we found our women in good health and spirits. They had been two days before joined by Mr. Smollett and his lady, to whom we have such obligations as I cannot mention, even to you, without blushing. Tomorrow we shall bid adieu to the Scotch Arcadia, and begin our progress to the southward, taking our way by Lanerk and Nithsdale, to the west borders of England. I have received so much advantage and satisfaction from this tour, that if my health suffers no revolution in the winter, I believe I shall be tempted to undertake another expedition to the Northern extremity of Caithness, unencumbered by those impediments which now clog the heels of, Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE CAMERON, Sept. 6. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAREST LETTY, Never did poor prisoner long for deliverance, more than I have longed for an opportunity to disburthen my cares into your friendly bosom; and the occasion which now presents itself, is little less than miraculousHonest Saunders Macawly, the travelling Scotchman, who goes every year to Wales, is now at Glasgow, buying goods, and coming to pay his respects to our family, has undertaken to deliver this letter into your own handWe have been six weeks in Scotland, and seen the principal towns of the kingdom, where we have been treated with great civilityThe people are very courteous; and the country being exceedingly romantic, suits my turn and inclinationsI contracted some friendships at Edinburgh, which is a large and lofty city, full of gay company; and, in particular, commenced an intimate correspondence with one miss Rtn, an amiable young lady of my own age, whose charms seemed to soften, and even to subdue the stubborn heart of my brother Jery; but he no sooner left the place than he relapsed into his former insensibilityI feel, however, that this indifference is not the family constitutionI never admitted but one idea of love, and that has taken such root in my heart, as to be equally proof against all the pulls of discretion, and the frosts of neglect. Dear Letty! I had an alarming adventure at the hunters ball in EdinburghWhile I sat discoursing with a friend in a corner, all at once the very image of Wilson stood before me, dressed exactly as he was in the character of Aimwell! It was one Mr Gordon, whom I had not seen beforeShocked at the sudden apparition, I fainted away, and threw the whole assembly in confusionHowever, the cause of my disorder remained a secret to every body but my brother, who was likewise struck with the resemblance, and scolded after we came homeI am very sensible of Jery's affection, and know he spoke as well with a view to my own interest and happiness, as in regard to the honour of the family; but I cannot bear to have my wounds probed severelyI was not so much affected by the censure he passed upon my own indiscretion, as with the reflection he made on the conduct of Wilson. He observed, that if he was really the gentleman he pretended to be, and harboured nothing but honourable designs, he would have vindicated his pretensions in the face of dayThis remark made a deep impression upon my mindI endeavoured to conceal my thoughts; and this endeavour had a bad effect upon my health and spirits; so it was thought necessary that I should go to the Highlands, and drink the goatmilkwhey. We went accordingly to Lough Lomond, one of the most enchanting spots in the whole world; and what with this remedy, which I had every morning fresh from the mountains, and the pure air, and chearful company, I have recovered my flesh and appetite; though there is something still at bottom, which it is not in the power of air, exercise, company, or medicine to removeThese incidents would not touch me so nearly, if I had a sensible confidant to sympathize with my affliction, and comfort me with wholesome adviceI have nothing of this kind, except Win Jenkins, who is really a good body in the main, but very ill qualified for such an officeThe poor creature is weak in her nerves, as well as in her understanding; otherwise I might have known the true name and character of that unfortunate youthBut why do I call him unfortunate? perhaps the epithet is more applicable to me for having listened to the false professions ofBut, hold! I have as yet no right, and sure I have no inclination to believe any thing to the prejudice of his honourIn that reflection I shall still exert my patience. As for Mrs Jenkins, she herself is really an object of compassionBetween vanity, methodism, and love, her head is almost turned. I should have more regard for her, however, if she had been more constant in the object of her affection; but, truly, she aimed at conquest, and flirted at the same time with my uncle's footman, Humphrey Clinker, who is really a deserving young man, and one Dutton, my brother's valet de chambre, a debauched fellow; who, leaving Win in the lurch, ran away with another man's bride at Berwick. My dear Willis, I am truly ashamed of my own sexWe complain of advantages which the men take of our youth, inexperience, insensibility, and all that; but I have seen enough to believe, that our sex in general make it their business to ensnare the other; and for this purpose, employ arts which are by no means to be justifiedIn point of constancy, they certainly have nothing to reproach the male part of the creationMy poor aunt, without any regard to her years and imperfections, has gone to market with her charms in every place where she thought she had the least chance to dispose of her person, which, however, hangs still heavy on her handsI am afraid she has used even religion as a decoy, though it has not answered her expectationShe has been praying, preaching, and catechising among the methodists, with whom this country abounds; and pretends to have such manifestations and revelations, as even Clinker himself can hardly believe, though the poor fellow is half crazy with enthusiasm. As for Jenkins, she affects to take all her mistress's reveries for gospel. She has also her heartheavings and motions of the spirit; and God forgive me if I think uncharitably, but all this seems to me to be downright hypocrisy and deceitPerhaps, indeed, the poor girl imposes on herselfShe is generally in a flutter, and is much subject to vapoursSince we came to Scotland, she has seen apparitions, and pretends to prophesyIf I could put faith in all these supernatural visitations, I should think myself abandoned of grace; for I have neither seen, heard, nor felt anything of this nature, although I endeavour to discharge the duties of religion with all the sincerity, zeal, and devotion, that is in the power of, Dear Letty, your ever affectionate, LYDIA MELFORD GLASGOW, Sept. 7. We are so far on our return to Brambletonhall; and I would fain hope we shall take Gloucester in our way, in which case I shall have the inexpressible pleasure of embracing my dear WillisPray remember me to my worthy governess. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MARY, Sunders Macully, the Scotchman, who pushes directly for Vails, has promised to give it you into your own hand, and therefore I would not miss the opportunity to let you know as I am still in the land of the living: and yet I have been on the brink of the other world since I sent you my last letter.We went by sea to another kingdom called Fife, and coming back, had like to have gone to pot in a storm.What between the frite and sickness, I thought I should have brought my heart up; even Mr Clinker was not his own man for eight and forty hours after we got ashore. It was well for some folks that we scaped drownding; for mistress was very frexious, and seemed but indifferently prepared for a change; but, thank God, she was soon put in a better frame by the private exaltations of the reverend Mr Macrocodile.We afterwards churned to Starling and Grascow, which are a kiple of handsome towns; and then we went to a gentleman's house at LoffLoming, which is a wonderful sea of fresh water, with a power of hylands in the midst on't.They say as how it has n'er a bottom, and was made by a musician and, truly, I believe it; for it is not in the coarse of nature.It has got waves without wind, fish without fins, and a floating hyland; and one of them is a crutchyard, where the dead are buried; and always before the person dies, a bell rings of itself to give warning. O Mary! this is the land of congyrationThe bell knolled when we were thereI saw lights, and heard lamentations.The gentleman, our landlord, has got another house, which he was fain to quit, on account of a mischievous ghost, that would not suffer people to lie in their beds. The fairies dwell in a hole of Kairmann, a mounting hard by; and they steal away the good women that are in the straw, if so be as how there a'n't a horshoe nailed to the door: and I was shewn an ould vitch, called Elspath Ringavey, with a red petticoat, bleared eyes, and a mould of grey bristles on her sin.That she mought do me no harm, I crossed her hand with a taster, and bid her tell my fortune; and she told me such things descriving Mr Clinker to a hairbut it shall ne'er be said, that I minchioned a word of the matter.As I was troubled with fits, she advised me to bathe in the loff, which was holy water; and so I went in the morning to a private place along with the housemaid, and we bathed in our birthday soot, after the fashion of the country; and behold whilst we dabbled in the loff, sir George Coon started up with a gun; but we clapt our hands to our faces, and passed by him to the place where we had left our smocksA civil gentleman would have turned his head another way.My comfit is, he knew not which was which; and, as the saying is, all cats in the dark are greyWhilst we stayed at LoffLoming, he and our two squires went three or four days churning among the wild men of the mountings; a parcel of selvidges that lie in caves among the rocks, devour young children, speak Velch, but the vords are different. Our ladies would not part with Mr Clinker, because he is so stout and so pyehouse, that he fears neither man nor devils, if so be as they don't take him by surprise.Indeed, he was once so flurried by an operition, that he had like to have sounded.He made believe as if it had been the ould edmiral; but the old edmiral could not have made his air to stand on end, and his teeth to shatter; but he said so in prudence, that the ladies mought not be afear'd. Miss Liddy has been puny, and like to go into a declineI doubt her pore art is too tinderbut the got'sfey has set her on her legs again.You nows got'sfey is mother's milk to a Velch woman. As for mistress, blessed be God, she ails nothing.Her stomick is good, and she improves in grease and godliness; but, for all that, she may have infections like other people, and I believe, she wouldn't be sorry to be called your ladyship, whenever sir George thinks proper to ax the questionBut, for my part, whatever I may see or hear, not a praticle shall ever pass the lips of, Dear Molly, Your loving friend, WIN. JENKINS GRASCO, Sept. 7. Remember me, as usual, to Sall.We are now coming home, though not the nearest road.I do suppose, I shall find the kitten a fine boar at my return. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, Once more I tread upon English ground, which I like not the worse for the six weeks' ramble I have made among the woods and mountains of Caledonia; no offence to the land of cakes, where bannocks grow upon straw. I never saw my uncle in such health and spirits as he now enjoys. Liddy is perfectly recovered; and Mrs Tabitha has no reason to complain. Nevertheless, I believe, she was, till yesterday, inclined to give the whole Scotch nation to the devil, as a pack of insensible brutes, upon whom her accomplishments had been displayed in vain.At every place where we halted, did she mount the stage, and flourished her rusty arms, without being able to make one conquest. One of her last essays was against the heart of Sir George Colquhoun, with whom she fought all the weapons more than twice over.She was grave and gay by turnsshe moralized and methodizedshe laughed, and romped, and danced, and sung, and sighed, and ogled, and lisped, and fluttered, and flatteredbut all was preaching to the desart. The baronet, being a wellbred man, carried his civilities as far as she could in conscience expect, and, if evil tongues are to be believed, some degrees farther; but he was too much a veteran in gallantry, as well as in war, to fall into any ambuscade that she could lay for his affectionWhile we were absent in the Highlands, she practised also upon the laird of Ladrishmore, and even gave him the rendezvous in the wood of Drumscailloch; but the laird had such a reverend care of his own reputation, that he came attended with the parson of the parish, and nothing passed but spiritual communication. After all these miscarriages, our aunt suddenly recollected lieutenant Lismahago, whom, ever since our first arrival at Edinburgh, she seemed to have utterly forgot; but now she expressed her hopes of seeing him at Dumfries, according to his promise. We set out from Glasgow by the way of Lanerk, the countytown of Clydesdale, in the neighbourhood of which, the whole river Clyde, rushing down a steep rock, forms a very noble and stupendous cascade. Next day we were obliged to halt in a small borough, until the carriage, which had received some damage, should be repaired; and here we met with an incident which warmly interested the benevolent spirit of Mr BrambleAs we stood at the window of an inn that fronted the public prison, a person arrived on horseback, genteelly, tho' plainly, dressed in a blue frock, with his own hair cut short, and a goldlaced hat upon his head.Alighting, and giving his horse to the landlord, he advanced to an old man who was at work in paving the street, and accosted him in these words: 'This is hard work for such an old man as you.'So saying, he took the instrument out of his hand, and began to thump the pavement.After a few strokes, 'Have you never a son (said he) to ease you of this labour?' 'Yes, an please Your honour (replied the senior), I have three hopeful lads, but, at present, they are out of the way.' 'Honour not me (cried the stranger); but more becomes me to honour your grey hairs. Where are those sons you talk of?' The ancient paviour said, his eldest son was a captain in the East Indies; and the youngest had lately inlisted as a soldier, in hopes of prospering like his brother. The gentleman desiring to know what was become of the second, he wiped his eyes, and owned, he had taken upon him his old father's debts, for which he was now in the prison hard by. The traveller made three quick steps towards the jail, then turning short, 'Tell me (said he), has that unnatural captain sent you nothing to relieve your distress?' 'Call him not unnatural (replied the other); God's blessing be upon him! he sent me a great deal of money; but I made a bad use of it; I lost it by being security for a gentleman that was my landlord, and was stript of all I had in the world besides.' At that instant a young man, thrusting out his head and neck between two iron bars in the prisonwindow, exclaimed, 'Father! father! if my brother William is in life, that's he!' 'I am!I am!(cried the stranger, clasping the old man in his arms, and shedding a flood of tears)I am your son Willy, sure enough!' Before the father, who was quite confounded, could make any return to this tenderness, a decent old woman bolting out from the door of a poor habitation, cried, 'Where is my bairn? where is my dear Willy?'The captain no sooner beheld her, than he quitted his father, and ran into her embrace. I can assure you, my uncle, who saw and heard every thing that passed, was as much moved as any one of the parties concerned in this pathetic recognitionHe sobbed, and wept, and clapped his hands, and hollowed, and finally ran down into the street. By this time, the captain had retired with his parents, and all the inhabitants of the place were assembled at the door.Mr Bramble, nevertheless, pressed thro' the crowd, and entering the house, 'Captain (said he), I beg the favour of your acquaintance. I would have travelled a hundred miles to see this affecting scene; and I shall think myself happy if you and your parents will dine with me at the public house.' The captain thanked him for his kind invitation, which, he said, he would accept with pleasure; but in the mean time, he could not think of eating or drinking, while his poor brother was in trouble. He forthwith deposited a sum equal to the debt in the hands of the magistrate, who ventured to set his brother at liberty without farther process; and then the whole family repaired to the inn with my uncle, attended by the crowd, the individuals of which shook their townsman by the hand, while he returned their caresses without the least sign of pride or affectation. This honest favourite of fortune, whose name was Brown, told my uncle, that he had been bred a weaver, and, about eighteen years ago, had, from a spirit of idleness and dissipation, enlisted as a soldier in the service of the EastIndia company; that, in the course of duty, he had the good fortune to attract the notice and approbation of Lord Clive, who preferred him from one step to another, till he attained the rank of captain and paymaster to the regiment, in which capacities he had honestly amassed above twelve thousand pounds, and, at the peace, resigned his commission.He had sent several remittances to his father, who received the first only, consisting of one hundred pounds; the second had fallen into the hands of a bankrupt; and the third had been consigned to a gentleman of Scotland, who died before it arrived; so that it still remained to be accounted for by his executors. He now presented the old man with fifty pounds for his present occasions, over and above bank notes for one hundred, which he had deposited for his brother's release.He brought along with him a deed ready executed, by which he settled a perpetuity of fourscore pounds upon his parents, to be inherited by their other two sons after their decease.He promised to purchase a commission for his youngest brother; to take the other as his own partner in a manufacture which he intended to set up, to give employment and bread to the industrious; and to give five hundred pounds, by way of dower, to his sister, who had married a farmer in low circumstances. Finally, he gave fifty pounds to the poor of the town where he was born, and feasted all the inhabitants without exception. My uncle was so charmed with the character of captain Brown, that he drank his health three times successively at dinnerHe said, he was proud of his acquaintance; that he was an honour to his country, and had in some measure redeemed human nature from the reproach of pride, selfishness, and ingratitude.For my part, I was as much pleased with the modesty as with the filial virtue of this honest soldier, who assumed no merit from his success, and said very little of his own transactions, though the answers he made to our inquiries were equally sensible and laconic, Mrs Tabitha behaved very graciously to him until she understood that he was going to make a tender of his hand to a person of low estate, who had been his sweetheart while he worked as a journeyman weaver.Our aunt was no sooner made acquainted with this design, than she starched up her behaviour with a double proportion of reserve; and when the company broke up, she observed with a toss of her nose, that Brown was a civil fellow enough, considering the lowness of his original; but that Fortune, though she had mended his circumstances, was incapable to raise his ideas, which were still humble and plebeian. On the day that succeeded this adventure, we went some miles out of our road to see Drumlanrig, a seat belonging to the duke of Queensberry, which appears like a magnificent palace erected by magic, in the midst of a wilderness.It is indeed a princely mansion, with suitable parks and plantations, rendered still more striking by the nakedness of the surrounding country, which is one of the wildest tracts in all Scotland.This wildness, however, is different from that of the Highlands; for here the mountains, instead of heath, are covered with a fine green swarth, affording pasture to innumerable flocks of sheep. But the fleeces of this country, called Nithsdale, are not comparable to the wool of Galloway, which is said to equal that of Salisbury plain. Having passed the night at the castle of Drumlanrig, by invitation from the duke himself, who is one of the best men that ever breathed, we prosecuted our journey to Dumfries, a very elegant trading town near the borders of England, where we found plenty of good provision and excellent wine, at very reasonable prices, and the accommodation as good in all respects as in any part of SouthBritain. If I was confined to Scotland for life, I would chuse Dumfries as the place of my residence. Here we made enquiries about captain Lismahago, of whom hearing no tidings, we proceeded by the Solway Frith, to Carlisle. You must know, that the Solway sands, upon which travellers pass at low water, are exceedingly dangerous, because, as the tide makes, they become quick in different places, and the flood rushes in so impetuously, that the passengers are often overtaken by the sea and perish. In crossing these treacherous Syrtes with a guide, we perceived a drowned horse, which Humphry Clinker, after due inspection, declared to be the very identical beast which Mr Lismahago rode when he parted with us at Feltonbridge in Northumberland. This information, which seemed to intimate that our friend the lieutenant had shared the fate of his horse, affected us all, and above all our aunt Tabitha, who shed salt tears, and obliged Clinker to pull a few hairs out of the dead horse's tail, to be worn in a ring as a remembrance of his master: but her grief and ours was not of long duration; for one of the first persons we saw in Carlisle, was the lieutenant in propria persona, bargaining with a horsedealer for another steed, in the yard of the inn where we alighted.Mrs Bramble was the first that perceived him, and screamed as if she had seen a ghost; and, truly, at a proper time and place, he might very well have passed for an inhabitant of another world; for he was more meagre and grim than before.We received him the more cordially for having supposed he had been drowned; and he was not deficient in expressions of satisfaction at this meeting. He told us, he had enquired for us at Dumfries, and been informed by a travelling merchant from Glasgow, that we had resolved to return by the way of Coldstream. He said, that in passing the sands without a guide, his horse had knocked up, and he himself must have perished, if he had not been providentially relieved by a return postchaise.He moreover gave us to understand, that his scheme of settling in his own country having miscarried, he was so far on his way to London, with a view to embark for NorthAmerica, where he intended to pass the rest of his days among his old friends the Miamis, and amuse himself in finishing the education of the son he had by his beloved Squinkinacoosta. This project was by no means agreeable to our good aunt, who expatiated upon the fatigues and dangers that would attend such a long voyage by sea, and afterwards such a tedious journey by landShe enlarged particularly on the risque he would run, with respect to the concerns of his precious soul, among savages who had not yet received the glad tidings of salvation; and she hinted that his abandoning GreatBritain might, perhaps, prove fatal to the inclinations of some deserving person, whom he was qualified to make happy for life. My uncle, who is really a Don Quixote in generosity, understanding that Lismahago's real reason for leaving Scotland was the impossibility of subsisting in it with any decency upon the wretched provision of a subaltern's halfpay, began to be warmly interested on the side of compassion.He thought it very hard, that a gentleman who had served his country with honour, should be driven by necessity to spend his old age, among the refuse of mankind, in such a remote part of the world.He discoursed with me upon the subject; observing, that he would willingly offer the lieutenant an asylum at Brambletonhall, if he did not foresee that his singularities and humour of contradiction would render him an intolerable housemate, though his conversation at some times might be both instructive and entertaining: but, as there seemed to be something particular in his attention to Mrs Tabitha, he and I agreed in opinion, that this intercourse should be encouraged and improved, if possible, into a matrimonial union; in which case there would be a comfortable provision for both; and they might be settled in a house of their own, so that Mr Bramble should have no more of their company than he desired. In pursuance of this design, Lismahago has been invited to pass the winter at Brambletonhall, as it will be time enough to execute his American project in the spring.He has taken time to consider of this proposal; mean while, he will keep us company as far as we travel in the road to Bristol, where he has hopes of getting a passage for America. I make no doubt but that he will postpone his voyage, and prosecute his addresses to a happy consummation; and sure, if it produces any fruit, it must be of a very peculiar flavour. As the weather continues favourable, I believe, we shall take the Peak of Derbyshire and Buxton Wells in our way.At any rate, from the first place where we make any stay, you shall hear again from Yours always, J. MELFORD CARLISLE, Sep. 12. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, The peasantry of Scotland are certainly on a poor footing all over the kingdom; and yet they look better, and are better cloathed than those of the same rank in Burgundy, and many other places of France and Italy; nay, I will venture to say they are better fed, notwithstanding the boasted wine of these foreign countries. The country people of NorthBritain live chiefly on oatmeal, and milk, cheese, butter, and some gardenstuff, with now and then a pickledherring, by way of delicacy; but fleshmeat they seldom or never taste; nor any kind of strong liquor, except twopenny, at times of uncommon festivityTheir breakfast is a kind of hasty pudding, of oatmeal or peasemeal, eaten with milk. They have commonly pottage for dinner, composed of cale or cole, leeks, barley or big, and butter; and this is reinforced with bread and cheese, made of skimmedmilkAt night they sup on sowens or flummery of oatmealIn a scarcity of oats, they use the meal of barley and pease, which is both nourishing and palatable. Some of them have potatoes; and you find parsnips in every peasant's gardenThey are cloathed with a coarse kind of russet of their own making, which is both decent and warmThey dwell in poor huts, built of loose stones and turf, without any mortar, having a fireplace or hearth in the middle, generally made of an old millstone, and a hole at top to let out the smoke. These people, however, are content, and wonderfully sagaciousAll of them read the Bible, and are even qualified to dispute upon the articles of their faith; which in those parts I have seen, is entirely Presbyterian. I am told, that the inhabitants of Aberdeenshire are still more acute. I once knew a Scotch gentleman at London, who had declared war against this part of his countrymen; and swore that the impudence and knavery of the Scots, in that quarter, had brought a reproach upon the whole nation. The river Clyde, above Glasgow, is quite pastoral; and the banks of it are every where adorned with fine villas. From the sea to its source, we may reckon the seats of many families of the first rank, such as the duke of Argyle at Roseneath, the earl of Bute in the isle of that name, the earl of Glencairn at Finlayston, lord Blantyre at Areskine, the dutchess of Douglas at Bothwell, duke Hamilton at Hamilton, the duke of Douglas at Douglas, and the earl of Hyndford at Carmichael. Hamilton is a noble palace, magnificently furnished; and hard by is the village of that name, one of the neatest little towns I have seen in any country. The old castle of Douglas being burned to the ground by accident, the late duke resolved, as head of the first family of Scotland, to have the largest house in the kingdom, and ordered a plan for this purpose; but there was only one wing of it finished when he died. It is to be hoped that his nephew, who is now in possession of his great fortune, will complete the design of his predecessorClydesdale is in general populous and rich, containing a great number of gentlemen, who are independent in their fortune; but it produces more cattle than cornThis is also the case with Tweedale, through part of which we passed, and Nithsdale, which is generally rough, wild, and mountainousThese hills are covered with sheep; and this is the small delicious mutton, so much preferable to that of the Londonmarket. As their feeding costs so little, the sheep are not killed till five years old, when their flesh, juices, and flavour are in perfection; but their fleeces are much damaged by the tar, with which they are smeared to preserve them from the rot in winter, during which they run wild night and day, and thousands are lost under huge wreaths of snow'Tis pity the farmers cannot contrive some means to shelter this useful animal from the inclemencies of a rigorous climate, especially from the perpetual rains, which are more prejudicial than the greatest extremity of cold weather. On the little river Nid, is situated the castle of Drumlanrig, one of the noblest seats in GreatBritain, belonging to the duke of Queensberry; one of those few noblemen whose goodness of heart does honour to humannatureI shall not pretend to enter into a description of this palace, which is really an instance of the sublime in magnificence, as well as in situation, and puts one in mind of the beautiful city of Palmyra, rising like a vision in the midst of the wilderness. His grace keeps open house, and lives with great splendourHe did us the honour to receive us with great courtesy, and detain'd us all night, together with above twenty other guests, with all their servants and horses to a very considerable numberThe dutchess was equally gracious, and took our ladies under her immediate protection. The longer I live, I see more reason to believe that prejudices of education are never wholly eradicated, even when they are discovered to be erroneous and absurd. Such habits of thinking as interest the grand passions, cleave to the human heart in such a manner, that though an effort of reason may force them from their hold for a moment, this violence no sooner ceases, than they resume their grasp with an increased elasticity and adhesion. I am led into this reflection, by what passed at the duke's table after supper. The conversation turned upon the vulgar notions of spirits and omens, that prevail among the commonalty of NorthBritain, and all the company agreed, that nothing could be more ridiculous. One gentleman, however, told a remarkable story of himself, by way of speculation 'Being on a party of hunting in the North (said he), I resolved to visit an old friend, whom I had not seen for twenty yearsSo long he had been retired and sequestered from all his acquaintance, and lived in a moping melancholy way, much afflicted with lowness of spirits, occasioned by the death of his wife, whom he had loved with uncommon affection. As he resided in a remote part of the country, and we were five gentlemen with as many servants, we carried some provision with us from the next market town, lest we should find him unprepared for our reception. The roads being bad, we did not arrive at the house till two o'clock in the afternoon; and were agreeably surprised to find a very good dinner ready in the kitchen, and the cloth laid with six covers. My friend himself appeared in his best apparel at the gate, and received us with open arms, telling me he had been expecting us these two hours. Astonished at this declaration, I asked who had given him intelligence of our coming? and he smiled without making any other reply. However, presuming upon our former intimacy, I afterwards insisted upon knowing; and he told me, very gravely, he had seen me in a vision of the second sightNay, he called in the evidence of his steward, who solemnly declared, that his master had the day before apprised him of my coming, with four other strangers, and ordered him to provide accordingly; in consequence of which intimation, he had prepared the dinner which we were now eating; and laid the covers according to the number foretold.' The incident we all owned to be remarkable, and I endeavoured to account for it by natural means. I observed, that as the gentleman was of a visionary turn, the casual idea, or remembrance of his old friend, might suggest those circumstances, which accident had for once realized; but that in all probability he had seen many visions of the same kind, which were never verified. None of the company directly dissented from my opinion; but from the objections that were hinted, I could plainly perceive that the majority were persuaded there was something more extraordinary in the case. Another gentleman of the company, addressing himself to me, 'Without all doubt (said he), a diseased imagination is very apt to produce visions; but we must find some other method to account for something of this kind, that happened within these eight days in my neighbourhoodA gentleman of a good family, who cannot be deemed a visionary in any sense of the word, was near his own gate, in the twilight, visited by his grandfather, who has been dead these fifteen yearsThe spectre was mounted seemingly on the very horse he used to ride, with an angry and terrible countenance, and said something, which his grandson, in the confusion of fear, could not understand. But this was not allHe lifted up a huge horse whip, and applied it with great violence to his back and shoulders, on which I saw the impression with my own eyes. The apparition was afterwards seen by the sexton of the parish, hovering about the tomb where his body lies interred; as the man declared to several persons in the village, before he knew what had happened to the gentlemanNay, he actually came to me as a justice of the peace, in order to make oath of these particulars, which, however, I declined administering. As for the grandson of the defunct, he is a sober, sensible, worldly minded fellow, too intent upon schemes of interest to give in to reveries. He would have willingly concealed the affair; but he bawled out in the first transport of his fear, and, running into the house, exposed his back and his sconce to the whole family; so that there was no denying it in the sequel. It is now the common discourse of the country, that this appearance and behaviour of the old man's spirit, portends some great calamity to the family, and the goodwoman has actually taken to her bed in this apprehension.' Though I did not pretend to explain this mystery, I said, I did not at all doubt, but it would one day appear to be a deception; and, in all probability, a scheme executed by some enemy of the person who had sustained the assault; but still the gentleman insisted upon the clearness of the evidence, and the concurrence of testimony, by which two creditable witnesses, without any communication one with another, affirmed the appearance of the same man, with whose person they were both well acquaintedFrom Drumlanrig we pursued the course of the Nid to Dumfries, which stands seven miles above the place where the river falls into the sea; and is, after Glasgow, the handsomest town I have seen in Scotland. The inhabitants, indeed, seem to have proposed that city as their model; not only in beautifying their town and regulating its police, but, also in prosecuting their schemes of commerce and manufacture, by which they are grown rich and opulent. We reentered England, by the way of Carlisle, where we accidentally met with our friend Lismahago, whom we had in vain inquired after at Dumfries and other placesIt would seem that the captain, like the prophets of old, is but little honoured in his own country, which he has now renounced for everHe gave me the following particulars of his visit to his native soilIn his way to the place of his nativity, he learned that his nephew had married the daughter of a burgeois, who directed a weaving manufacture, and had gone into partnership with his fatherinlaw: chagrined with this information, he had arrived at the gate in the twilight, where he heard the sound of treddles in the great hall, which had exasperated him to such a degree, that he had like to have lost his senses: while he was thus transported with indignation, his nephew chanced to come forth, when, being no longer master of his passion, he cried, 'Degenerate rascal! you have made my father's house a den of thieves;' and at the same time chastised him with his horsewhip; then, riding round the adjoining village, he had visited the buryingground of his ancestors by moonlight; and, having paid his respects to their manes, travelled all night to another part of the countryFinding the head of the family in such a disgraceful situation, all his own friends dead or removed from the places of their former residence, and the expence of living increased to double of what it had been, when he first left his native country, he had bid it an eternal adieu, and was determined to seek for repose among the forests of America. I was no longer at a loss to account for the apparition, which had been described at Drumlanrig; and when I repeated the story to the lieutenant, he was much pleased to think his resentment had been so much more effectual than he intended; and he owned, he might at such an hour, and in such an equipage, very well pass for the ghost of his father, whom he was said greatly to resembleBetween friends, I fancy Lismahago will find a retreat without going so far as the wigwams of the Miamis. My sister Tabby is making continual advances to him, in the way of affection; and, if I may trust to appearances, the captain is disposed to take opportunity by the forelock. For my part, I intend to encourage this correspondence, and shall be glad to see them unitedIn that case, we shall find a way to settle them comfortably in our own neighbourhood. I, and my servants, will get rid of a very troublesome and tyrannic gouvernante; and I shall have the benefit of Lismahago's conversation, without being obliged to take more of his company than I desire; for though an olla is a highflavoured dish, I could not bear to dine upon it every day of my life. I am much pleased with Manchester, which is one of the most agreeable and flourishing towns in GreatBritain; and I perceive that this is the place which hath animated the spirit, and suggested the chief manufactures of Glasgow. We propose to visit Chatsworth, the Peak, and Buxton, from which last place we shall proceed directly homewards, though by easy journies. If the season has been as favourable in Wales as in the North, your harvest is happily finished; and we have nothing left to think of but our October, of which let Barns be properly reminded. You will find me much better in flesh than I was at our parting; and this short separation has given a new edge to those sentiments of friendship with which I always have been, and ever shall be, Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE MANCHESTER, Sept. 15. To Mrs GWILLIM, housekeeper at Brambletonhall. MRS GWYLLIM, It has pleased Providence to bring us safe back to England, and partake us in many pearls by land and water, in particular the Devil's Harse a pike, and Hoyden's Hole, which hath got no bottom; and, as we are drawing huomwards, it may be proper to uprise you, that Brambletonhall may be in condition to receive us, after this long gurney to the islands of Scotland. By the first of next month you may begin to make constant fires in my brother's chamber and mine; and burn a fagget every day in the yellow damask room: have the tester and curtains dusted, and the featherbed and matrosses well haired, because, perhaps, with the blissing of haven, they may be yoosed on some occasion. Let the ould hogsheads be well skewred and seasoned for bear, as Mat is resolved to have his seller choak fool. If the house was mine, I would turn over a new leafI don't see why the sarvants of Wales shouldn't drink fair water, and eat hot cakes and barley cale, as they do in Scotland, without troubling the botcher above once a quarterI hope you keep accunt of Roger's purseeding in reverence to the buttermilk. I expect my dew when I come huom, without baiting an ass, I'll assure you.As you must have layed a great many more eggs than would be eaten, I do suppose there is a power of turks, chickings, and guzzling about the house; and a brave kergo of cheese ready for market; and that the owl has been sent to Crickhowel, saving what the maids spun in the family. Pray let the whole house and furniture have a thorough cleaning from top to bottom, for the honour of Wales; and let Roger search into, and make a general clearance of the slit holes, which the maids have in secret; for I know they are much given to sloth and uncleanness. I hope you have worked a reformation among them, as I exhorted you in my last, and set their hearts upon better things than they can find in junkitting and caterwauling with the fellows of the country. As for Win Jenkins, she has undergone a perfect metamurphysis, and is become a new creeter from the ammunition of Humphry Clinker, our new footman, a pious young man, who has laboured exceedingly, that she may bring forth fruits of repentance. I make no doubt but he will take the same pains with that pert hussey Mary Jones, and all of you; and that he may have power given to penetrate and instill his goodness, even into your most inward parts, is the fervent prayer of Your friend in the spirit, TAB. BRAMBLE Septr. 18. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS, Lismahago is more paradoxical than ever.The late gulp he had of his native air, seems to have blown fresh spirit into all his polemical faculties. I congratulated him the other day on the present flourishing state of his country, observing that the Scots were now in a fair way to wipe off the national reproach of poverty, and expressing my satisfaction at the happy effects of the union, so conspicuous in the improvement of their agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and mannersThe lieutenant, screwing up his features into a look of dissent and disgust, commented on my remarks to this effect'Those who reproach a nation for its poverty, when it is not owing to the profligacy or vice of the people, deserve no answer. The Lacedaemonians were poorer than the Scots, when they took the lead among all the free states of Greece, and were esteemed above them all for their valour and their virtue. The most respectable heroes of ancient Rome, such as Fabricius, Cincinnatus, and Regulus, were poorer than the poorest freeholder in Scotland; and there are at this day individuals in NorthBritain, one of whom can produce more gold and silver than the whole republic of Rome could raise at those times when her public virtue shone with unrivalled lustre; and poverty was so far from being a reproach, that it added fresh laurels to her fame, because it indicated a noble contempt of wealth, which was proof against all the arts of corruptionIf poverty be a subject for reproach, it follows that wealth is the object of esteem and venerationIn that case, there are Jews and others in Amsterdam and London, enriched by usury, peculation, and different species of fraud and extortion, who are more estimable than the most virtuous and illustrious members of the community. An absurdity which no man in his senses will offer to maintain.Riches are certainly no proof of merit: nay they are often (if not most commonly) acquired by persons of sordid minds and mean talents: nor do they give any intrinsic worth to the possessor; but, on the contrary, tend to pervert his understanding, and render his morals more depraved. But, granting that poverty were really matter of reproach, it cannot be justly imputed to Scotland. No country is poor that can supply its inhabitants with the necessaries of life, and even afford articles for exportation. Scotland is rich in natural advantages: it produces every species of provision in abundance, vast herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, with a great number of horses; prodigious quantities of wool and flax, with plenty of copse wood, and in some parts large forests of timber. The earth is still more rich below than above the surface. It yields inexhaustible stores of coal, freestone, marble, lead, iron, copper, and silver, with some gold. The sea abounds with excellent fish, and salt to cure them for exportation; and there are creeks and harbours round the whole kingdom, for the convenience and security of navigation. The face of the country displays a surprising number of cities, towns, villas, and villages, swarming with people; and there seems to be no want of art, industry, government, and police: such a kingdom can never be called poor, in any sense of the word, though there may be many others more powerful and opulent. But the proper use of those advantages, and the present prosperity of the Scots, you seem to derive from the union of the two kingdoms!' I said, I supposed he would not deny that the appearance of the country was much mended; that the people lived better, had more trade, and a greater quantity of money circulating since the union, than before. 'I may safely admit these premises (answered the lieutenant), without subscribing to your inference. The difference you mention, I should take to be the natural progress of improvementSince that period, other nations, such as the Swedes, the Danes, and in particular the French, have greatly increased in commerce, without any such cause assigned. Before the union, there was a remarkable spirit of trade among the Scots, as appeared in the case of their Darien company, in which they had embarked no less than four hundred thousand pounds sterling; and in the flourishing state of the maritime towns in Fife, and on the eastern coast, enriched by their trade with France, which failed in consequence of the union. The only solid commercial advantage reaped from that measure, was the privilege of trading to the English plantations; yet, excepting Glasgow and Dumfries, I don't know any other Scotch towns concerned in that traffick. In other respects, I conceive the Scots were losers by the union.They lost the independency of their state, the greatest prop of national spirit; they lost their parliament, and their courts of justice were subjected to the revision and supremacy of an English tribunal.' 'Softly, captain (cried I), you cannot be said to have lost your own parliament, while you are represented in that of GreatBritain.' 'True (said he, with a sarcastic grin), in debates of national competition, the sixteen peers and fortyfive commoners of Scotland, must make a formidable figure in the scale, against the whole English legislature.' 'Be that as it may (I observed) while I had the honour to sit in the lower house, the Scotch members had always the majority on their side.' 'I understand you, Sir (said he), they generally side with the majority; so much the worse for their constituents. But even this evil is not the worst they have sustained by the union. Their trade has been saddled with grievous impositions, and every article of living severely taxed, to pay the interest of enormous debts, contracted by the English, in support of measures and connections in which the Scots had no interest nor concern.' I begged he would at least allow, that by the union the Scots were admitted to all the privileges and immunities of English subjects; by which means multitudes of them were provided for in the army and navy, and got fortunes in different parts of England, and its dominions. 'All these (said he) become English subjects to all intents and purposes, and are in a great measure lost to their mothercountry. The spirit of rambling and adventure has been always peculiar to the natives of Scotland. If they had not met with encouragement in England, they would have served and settled, as formerly, in other countries, such as Muscovy, Sweden, Denmark, Poland, Germany, France, Piedmont, and Italy, in all which nations their descendants continue to flourish even at this day.' By this time my patience began to fail and I exclaimed, 'For God's sake, what has England got by this union which, you say, has been so productive of misfortune to the Scots.' 'Great and manifold are the advantages which England derives from the union (said Lismahago, in a solemn tone). First and foremost, the settlement of the protestant succession, a point which the English ministry drove with such eagerness, that no stone was left unturned, to cajole and bribe a few leading men, to cram the union down the throats of the Scottish nation, who were surprisingly averse to the expedient. They gained by it a considerable addition of territory, extending their dominion to the sea on all sides of the island, thereby shutting up all backdoors against the enterprizes of their enemies. They got an accession of above a million of useful subjects, constituting a neverfailing nursery of seamen, soldiers, labourers, and mechanics; a most valuable acquisition to a trading country, exposed to foreign wars, and obliged to maintain a number of settlements in all the four quarters of the globe. In the course of seven years, during the last war, Scotland furnished the English army and navy with seventy thousand men, over and above those who migrated to their colonies, or mingled with them at home in the civil departments of life. This was a very considerable and seasonable supply to a nation, whose people had been for many years decreasing in number, and whose lands and manufactures were actually suffering for want of hands. I need not remind you of the hackneyed maxim, that, to a nation in such circumstances, a supply of industrious people is a supply of wealth; nor repeat an observation, which is now received as an eternal truth, even among the English themselves, that the Scots who settle in SouthBritain are remarkably sober, orderly, and industrious.' I allowed the truth of this remark, adding, that by their industry, oeconomy, and circumspection, many of them in England, as well as in her colonies, amassed large fortunes, with which they returned to their own country, and this was so much lost to SouthBritain.'Give me leave, sir (said he), to assure you, that in your fact you are mistaken, and in your deduction erroneous. Not one in two hundred that leave Scotland ever returns to settle in his own country; and the few that do return, carry thither nothing that can possibly diminish the stock of SouthBritain; for none of their treasure stagnates in ScotlandThere is a continual circulation, like that of the blood in the human body, and England is the heart, to which all the streams which it distributes are refunded and returned: nay, in consequence of that luxury which our connexion with England hath greatly encouraged, if not introduced, all the produce of our lands, and all the profits of our trade, are engrossed by the natives of SouthBritain; for you will find that the exchange between the two kingdoms is always against Scotland; and that she retains neither gold nor silver sufficient for her own circulation.The Scots, not content with their own manufactures and produce, which would very well answer all necessary occasions, seem to vie with each other in purchasing superfluities from England; such as broadcloth, velvets, stuffs, silks, lace, furs, jewels, furniture of all sorts, sugar, rum, tea, chocolate and coffee; in a word, not only every mode of the most extravagant luxury, but even many articles of convenience, which they might find as good, and much cheaper in their own country. For all these particulars, I conceive, England may touch about one million sterling ayear.I don't pretend to make an exact calculation; perhaps, it may be something less, and perhaps, a great deal more. The annual revenue arising from all the private estates of Scotland cannot fall short of a million sterling; and, I should imagine, their trade will amount to as much more.I know the linen manufacture alone returns near half a million, exclusive of the homeconsumption of that article.If, therefore, NorthBritain pays a ballance of a million annually to England, I insist upon it, that country is more valuable to her in the way of commerce, than any colony in her possession, over and above the other advantages which I have specified: therefore, they are no friends, either to England or to truth, who affect to depreciate the northern part of the united kingdom.' I must own, I was at first a little nettled to find myself schooled in so many particulars.Though I did not receive all his assertions as gospel, I was not prepared to refute them; and I cannot help now acquiescing in his remarks so far as to think, that the contempt for Scotland, which prevails too much on this side the Tweed, is founded on prejudice and error.After some recollection, 'Well, captain (said I), you have argued stoutly for the importance of your own country: for my part, I have such a regard for our fellowsubjects of NorthBritain, that I shall be glad to see the day, when your peasants can afford to give all their oats to their cattle, hogs, and poultry, and indulge themselves with good wheaten loaves, instead of such poor, unpalatable, and inflammatory diet.' Here again I brought my self into a premunire with the disputative Caledonian. He said he hoped he should never see the common people lifted out of that sphere for which they were intended by nature and the course of things; that they might have some reason to complain of their bread, if it were mixed, like that of Norway, with saw dust and fishbones; but that oatmeal was, he apprehended, as nourishing and salutary as wheatflour, and the Scots in general thought it at least as savoury.He affirmed, that a mouse, which, in the article of selfpreservation, might be supposed to act from infallible instinct, would always prefer oats to wheat, as appeared from experience; for, in a place where there was a parcel of each, that animal has never begun to feed upon the latter till all the oats were consumed: for their nutritive quality, he appealed to the hale, robust constitutions of the people who lived chiefly upon oatmeal; and, instead of being inflammatory, he asserted, that it was a cooling subacid, balsamic and mucilaginous; insomuch, that in all inflammatory distempers, recourse was had to watergruel, and flummery made of oatmeal. 'At least (said I), give me leave to wish them such a degree of commerce as may enable them to follow their own inclinations.''Heaven forbid! (cried this philosopher). Woe be to that nation, where the multitude is at liberty to follow their own inclinations! Commerce is undoubtedly a blessing, while restrained within its proper channels; but a glut of wealth brings along with it a glut of evils: it brings false taste, false appetite, false wants, profusion, venality, contempt of order, engendering a spirit of licentiousness, insolence, and faction, that keeps the community in continual ferment, and in time destroys all the distinctions of civil society; so that universal anarchy and uproar must ensue. Will any sensible man affirm, that the national advantages of opulence are to be sought on these terms?' 'No, sure; but I am one of those who think, that, by proper regulations, commerce may produce every national benefit, without the allay of such concomitant evils.' So much for the dogmata of my friend Lismahago, whom I describe the more circumstantially, as I firmly believe he will set up his rest in Monmouthshire. Yesterday, while I was alone with him he asked, in some confusion, if I should have any objection to the success of a gentleman and a soldier, provided he should be so fortunate as to engage my sister's affection. I answered without hesitation, that my sister was old enough to judge for herself; and that I should be very far from disapproving any resolution she might take in his favour.His eyes sparkled at this declaration. He declared, he should think himself the happiest man on earth to be connected with my family; and that he should never be weary of giving me proofs of his gratitude and attachment. I suppose Tabby and he are already agreed; in which case, we shall have a wedding at Brambletonhall, and you shall give away the bride.It is the least thing you can do, by way of atonement for your former cruelty to that poor lovesick maiden, who has been so long a thorn in the side of Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE Sept. 20. We have been at Buxton; but, as I did not much relish either the company or the accommodations, and had no occasion for the water, we stayed but two nights in the place. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WAT, Adventures begin to thicken as we advance to the southward. Lismahago has now professed himself the admirer of our aunt, and carries on his addresses under the sanction of her brother's approbation; so that we shall certainly have a wedding by Christmas. I should be glad you was present at the nuptials, to help me throw the stocking, and perform other ceremonies peculiar to that occasion.I am sure it will be productive of some diversion; and, truly, it would be worth your while to come across the country on purpose to see two such original figures in bed together, with their laced night caps; he, the emblem of good cheer, and she, the picture of good nature. All this agreeable prospect was clouded, and had well nigh vanished entirely, in consequence of a late misunderstanding between the future brothersinlaw, which, however, is now happily removed. A few days ago, my uncle and I, going to visit a relation, met with lord Oxmington at his house, who asked us to dine with him, next day, and we accepted the invitation.Accordingly, leaving our women under the care of captain Lismahago, at the inn where we had lodged the preceding night, in a little town, about a mile from his lordship's dwelling, we went at the hour appointed, and had a fashionable meal served up with much ostentation to a company of about a dozen persons, none of whom he had ever seen before.His lordship is much more remarkable for his pride and caprice, than for his hospitality and understanding; and, indeed, it appeared, that he considered his guests merely as objects to shine upon, so as to reflect the lustre of his own magnificenceThere was much state, but no courtesy; and a great deal of compliment without any conversation.Before the desert was removed, our noble entertainer proposed three general toasts; then calling for a glass of wine, and bowing all round, wished us a good afternoon. This was the signal for the company to break up, and they obeyed it immediately, all except our 'squire who was greatly shocked at the manner of this dismissionHe changed countenance, bit his lip in silence, but still kept his seat, so that his lordship found himself obliged to give us another hint, by saying, he should be glad to see us another time. 'There is no time like the present (cried Mr Bramble); your lordship has not yet drank a bumper to the best in Christendom.' 'I'll drink no more bumpers today (answered our landlord); and I am sorry to see you have drank too many.Order the gentleman's carriage to the gate.'So saying, he rose and retired abruptly; our 'squire starting up at the same time, laying his hand upon his sword, and eyeing him with a most ferocious aspect. The master having vanished in this manner, our uncle bad one of the servants to see what was to pay; and the fellow answering, 'This is no inn,' 'I cry you mercy (cried the other), I perceive it is not; if it were, the landlord would be more civil. There's a guinea, however; take it, and tell your lord, that I shall not leave the country till I have had the opportunity to thank him in person for his politeness and hospitality.' We then walked down stairs through a double range of lacqueys, and getting into the chaise, proceeded homewards. Perceiving the 'squire much ruffled, I ventured to disapprove of his resentment, observing, that as lord Oxmington was well known to have his brain very ill timbered, a sensible man should rather laugh, than be angry at his ridiculous want of breeding.Mr Bramble took umbrage at my presuming to be wiser than he upon this occasion; and told me, that as he had always thought for himself in every occurrence in life, he would still use the same privilege, with my good leave. When we returned to our inn, he closeted Lismahago; and having explained his grievance, desired that gentleman to go and demand satisfaction of lord Oxmington in his name.The lieutenant charged himself with this commission, and immediately set out a horseback for his lordship's house, attended, at his own request, by my man Archy Macalpine, who had been used to military service; and truly, if Macalpine had been mounted upon an ass, this couple might have passed for the knight of La Mancha and his 'squire Panza. It was not till after some demur that Lismahago obtained a private audience, at which he formally defied his lordship to single combat, in the name of Mr Bramble, and desired him to appoint the time and place. Lord Oxmington was so confounded at this unexpected message, that he could not, for some time, make any articulate reply; but stood staring at the lieutenant with manifest marks of perturbation. At length, ringing a bell with great vehemence, he exclaimed, 'What! a commoner send a challenge to a peer of the realm!Privilege! privilege!Here's a person brings me a challenge from the Welshman that dined at my tableAn impudent fellow.My wine is not yet out of his head.' The whole house was immediately in commotion.Macalpine made a soldierly retreat with two horses; but the captain was suddenly surrounded and disarmed by the footmen, whom a French valet de chambre headed in this exploit; his sword was passed through a closestool, and his person through the horsepond. In this plight he returned to the inn, half mad with his disgrace. So violent was the rage of his indignation, that he mistook its object.He wanted to quarrel with Mr Bramble; he said, he had been dishonoured on his account, and he looked for reparation at his hands.My uncle's back was up in a moment; and he desired him to explain his pretensions.'Either compel lord Oxmington to give me satisfaction (cried he), or give it me in your own person.' 'The latter part of the alternative is the most easy and expeditious (replied the 'squire, starting up): if you are disposed for a walk, I'll attend you this moment.' Here they were interrupted by Mrs Tabby, who had overheard all that passed.She now burst into the room, and running betwixt them, in great agitation, 'Is this your regard for me (said she to the lieutenant), to seek the life of my brother?' Lismahago, who seemed to grow cool as my uncle grew hot, assured her he had a very great respect for Mr Bramble, but he had still more for his own honour, which had suffered pollution; but if that could be once purified, he should have no further cause of dissatisfaction. The 'squire said, he should have thought it incumbent upon him to vindicate the lieutenant's honour; but, as he had now carved for himself, he might swallow and digest it as well as he couldIn a word, what betwixt the mediation of Mrs Tabitha, the recollection of the captain, who perceived he had gone too far, and the remonstrances of your humble servant, who joined them at this juncture, those two originals were perfectly reconciled; and then we proceeded to deliberate upon the means of taking vengeance for the insults they had received from the petulant peer; for, until that aim should be accomplished, Mr Bramble swore, with great emphasis, that he would not leave the inn where we now lodged, even if he should pass his Christmas on the spot. In consequence of our deliberations, we next day, in the forenoon, proceeded in a body to his lordship's house, all of us, with our servants, including the coachman, mounted ahorseback, with our pistols loaded and ready primed.Thus prepared for action, we paraded solemnly and slowly before his lordship's gate, which we passed three times in such a manner, that he could not but see us, and suspect the cause of our appearance.After dinner we returned, and performed the same cavalcade, which was again repeated the morning following; but we had no occasion to persist in these manoeuvres. About noon, we were visited by the gentleman, at whose house we had first seen lord Oxmington.He now came to make apologies in the name of his lordship, who declared he had no intention to give offence to my uncle, in practising what had been always the custom of his house; and that as for the indignities which had been put upon the officer, they were offered without his Lordship's knowledge, at the instigation of his valet de chambre.'If that be the case (said my uncle, in a peremptory tone), I shall be contented with lord Oxmington's personal excuses; and I hope my friend will be satisfied with his lordship's turning that insolent rascal out of his service.''Sir (cried Lismahago), I must insist upon taking personal vengeance for the personal injuries I have sustained.' After some debate, the affair was adjusted in this manner.His lordship, meeting us at our friend's house, declared he was sorry for what had happened; and that he had no intention to give umbrage.The valet de chambre asked pardon of the lieutenant upon his knees, when Lismahago, to the astonishment of all present, gave him a violent kick on the face, which laid him on his back, exclaiming in a furious tone, 'Oui je te pardonne, gens foutre.' Such was the fortunate issue of this perilous adventure, which threatened abundance of vexation to our family; for the 'squire is one of those who will sacrifice both life and fortune, rather than leave what they conceive to be the least speck or blemish upon their honour and reputation. His lordship had no sooner pronounced his apology, with a very bad grace, than he went away in some disorder, and, I dare say, he will never invite another Welchman to his table. We forthwith quitted the field of this atchievement, in order to prosecute our journey; but we follow no determinate course. We make small deviations, to see the remarkable towns, villas, and curiosities on each side of our route; so that we advance by slow steps towards the borders of Monmouthshire: but in the midst of these irregular motions, there is no abberration nor eccentricity in that affection with which I am, dear Wat, Yours always, J. MELFORD Sept. 28. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, At what time of life may a man think himself exempted from the necessity of sacrificing his repose to the punctilios of a contemptible world? I have been engaged in a ridiculous adventure, which I shall recount at meeting; and this, I hope, will not be much longer delayed, as we have now performed almost all our visits, and seen every thing that I think has any right to retard us in our journey homewardsA few days ago, understanding by accident, that my old friend Baynard was in the country, I would not pass so near his habitation without paying him a visit, though our correspondence had been interrupted for a long course of years. I felt my self very sensibly affected by the idea of our past intimacy, as we approached the place where we had spent so many happy days together; but when we arrived at the house, I could not recognize any one of those objects, which had been so deeply impressed upon my remembranceThe tall oaks that shaded the avenue, had been cut down, and the iron gates at the end of it removed, together with the high wall that surrounded the court yard. The house itself, which was formerly a convent of Cistercian monks, had a venerable appearance: and along the front that looked into the garden, was a stone gallery, which afforded me many an agreeable walk, when I was disposed to be contemplative. Now the old front is covered with a screen of modern architecture; so that all without is Grecian, and all within Gothic. As for the garden, which was well stocked with the best fruit which England could produce, there is not now the least vestage remaining of trees, walls, or hedgesNothing appears but a naked circus of loose sand, with a dry bason and a leaden triton in the middle. You must know, that Baynard, at his father's death, had a clear estate of fifteen hundred pounds ayear, and was in other respects extremely well qualified to make a respectable figure in the commonwealth; but, what with some excesses of youth, and the expence of a contested election, he in a few years found himself encumbered with a debt of ten thousand pounds, which he resolved to discharge by means of a prudent marriage. He accordingly married a miss Thomson, whose fortune amounted to double the sum that he owedShe was the daughter of a citizen, who had failed in trade; but her fortune came by an uncle, who died in the EastIndiesHer own parents being dead, she lived with a maiden aunt, who had superintended her education; and, in all appearance, was well enough qualified for the usual purposes of the married stateHer virtues, however, stood rather upon a negative, than a positive foundationShe was neither proud, insolent, nor capricious, nor given to scandal, nor addicted to gaming, nor inclined to gallantry. She could read, and write, and dance, and sing, and play upon the harpsichord, and smatter French, and take a hand at whist and ombre; but even these accomplishments she possessed by halvesShe excelled in nothing. Her conversation was flat, her stile mean, and her expression embarrassedIn a word, her character was totally insipid. Her person was not disagreeable; but there was nothing graceful in her address, nor engaging in her manners; and she was so ill qualified to do the honours of the house, that when she sat at the head of the table, one was always looking for the mistress of the family in some other place. Baynard had flattered himself, that it would be no difficult matter to mould such a subject after his own fashion, and that she would chearfully enter into his views, which were wholly turned to domestic happiness. He proposed to reside always in the country, of which he was fond to a degree of enthusiasm; to cultivate his estate, which was very improvable; to enjoy the exercise of rural diversions; to maintain an intimacy of correspondence with some friends that were settled in his neighbourhood; to keep a comfortable house, without suffering his expence to exceed the limits of his income; and to find pleasure and employ merit for his wife in the management and avocations of her own familyThis, however, was a visionary scheme, which he never was able to realize. His wife was as ignorant as a newborn babe of everything that related to the conduct of a family; and she had no idea of a countrylife. Her understanding did not reach so far as to comprehend the first principles of discretion; and, indeed, if her capacity had been better than it was, her natural indolence would not have permitted her to abandon a certain routine, to which she had been habituated. She had not taste enough to relish any rational enjoyment; but her ruling passion was vanity, not that species which arises from selfconceit of superior accomplishments, but that which is of a bastard and idiot nature, excited by shew and ostentation, which implies not even the least consciousness of any personal merit. The nuptial peal of noise and nonsense being rung out in all the usual changes, Mr Baynard thought it high time to make her acquainted with the particulars of the plan which he had projectedHe told her that his fortune, though sufficient to afford all the comforts of life, was not ample enough to command all the superfluities of pomp and pageantry, which, indeed, were equally absurd and intolerableHe therefore hoped she would have no objection to their leaving London in the spring, when he would take the opportunity to dismiss some unnecessary domestics, whom he had hired for the occasion of their marriageShe heard him in silence, and after some pause, 'So (said she) I am to be buried in the country!' He was so confounded at this reply, that he could not speak for some minutes: at length he told her, he was much mortified to find he had proposed anything that was disagreeable to her ideas'I am sure (added he) I meant nothing more than to lay down a comfortable plan of living within the bounds of our fortune, which is but moderate.' 'Sir (said she), you are the best judge of your own affairsMy fortune, I know, does not exceed twenty thousand poundsYet, even with that pittance, I might have had a husband who would not have begrudged me a house in London''Good God! my dear (cried poor Baynard, in the utmost agitation), you don't think me so sordidI only hinted what I thoughtBut, I don't pretend to impose' 'Yes, sir (resumed the lady), it is your prerogative to command, and my duty to obey' So saying, she burst into tears and retired to her chamber, where she was joined by her auntHe endeavoured to recollect himself, and act with vigour of mind on this occasion; but was betrayed by the tenderness of his nature, which was the greatest defect of his constitution. He found the aunt in tears, and the niece in a fit, which held her the best part of eight hours, at the expiration of which, she began to talk incoherently about death and her dear husband, who had sat by her all this time, and now pressed her hand to his lips, in a transport of grief and penitence for the offence he had givenFrom thence forward, he carefully avoided mentioning the country; and they continued to be sucked deeper and deeper into the vortex of extravagance and dissipation, leading what is called a fashionable life in townAbout the latter end of July, however, Mrs Baynard, in order to exhibit a proof of conjugal obedience, desired of her own accord, that they might pay a visit to his country house, as there was no company left in London. He would have excused himself from this excursion which was no part of the oeconomical plan he had proposed; but she insisted upon making this sacrifice to his taste and prejudices, and away they went with such an equipage as astonished the whole country. All that remained of the season was engrossed by receiving and returning visits in the neighbourhood; and, in this intercourse it was discovered that sir John Chickwell had a housesteward and one footman in livery more than the complement of Mr Baynard's household. This remark was made by the aunt at table, and assented to by the husband, who observed that sir John Chickwell might very well afford to keep more servants than were found in the family of a man who had not half his fortune. Mrs Baynard ate no supper that evening; but was seized with a violent fit, which completed her triumph over the spirit of her consort. The two supernumerary servants were addedThe family plate was sold for old silver, and a new service procured; fashionable furniture was provided, and the whole house turned topsy turvy. At their return to London in the beginning of winter, he, with a heavy heart, communicated these particulars to me in confidence. Before his marriage, he had introduced me to the lady as his particular friend; and I now offered in that character, to lay before her the necessity of reforming her oeconomy, if she had any regard to the interest of her own family, or complaisance for the inclinations of her husbandBut Baynard declined my offer, on the supposition that his wife's nerves were too delicate to bear expostulation; and that it would only serve to overwhelm her with such distress as would make himself miserable. Baynard is a man of spirit, and had she proved a termagant, he would have known how to deal with her; but, either by accident or instinct, she fastened upon the weak side of his soul, and held it so fast, that he has been in subjection ever sinceI afterwards advised him to carry her abroad to France or Italy, where he might gratify her vanity for half the expence it cost him in England: and this advice he followed accordingly. She was agreeably flattered with the idea of seeing and knowing foreign parts, and foreign fashions; of being presented to sovereigns, and living familiarly with princes. She forthwith seized the hint which I had thrown out on purpose, and even pressed Mr Baynard to hasten his departure; so that in a few weeks they crossed the sea to France, with a moderate train, still including the aunt; who was her bosom counsellor, and abetted her in all her oppositions to her husband's willSince that period, I have had little or no opportunity to renew our former correspondenceAll that I knew of his transactions, amounted to no more than that after an absence of two years, they returned so little improved in oeconomy, that they launched out into new oceans of extravagance, which at length obliged him to mortgage his estateBy this time she had bore him three children, of which the last only survives, a puny boy of twelve or thirteen, who will be ruined in his education by the indulgence of his mother. As for Baynard, neither his own good sense, nor the dread of indigence, nor the consideration of his children, has been of force sufficient to stimulate him into the resolution of breaking at once the shameful spell by which he seems enchantedWith a taste capable of the most refined enjoyment, a heart glowing with all the warmth of friendship and humanity, and a disposition strongly turned to the more rational pleasures of a retired and country life, he is hurried about in a perpetual tumult, amidst a mob of beings pleased with rattles, baubles, and gewgaws, so void of sense and distinction, that even the most acute philosopher would find it a very hard task to discover for what wise purpose of providence they were createdFriendship is not to be found; nor can the amusements for which he sighs be enjoyed within the rotation of absurdity, to which he is doomed for life. He has long resigned all views of improving his fortune by management and attention to the exercise of husbandry, in which he delighted; and as to domestic happiness, not the least glimpse of hope remains to amuse his imagination. Thus blasted in all his prospects, he could not fail to be overwhelmed with melancholy and chagrin, which have preyed upon his health and spirits in such a manner, that he is now threatened with a consumption. I have given you a sketch of the man, whom the other day I went to visitAt the gate we found a great number of powdered lacquies, but no civilityAfter we had sat a considerable time in the coach, we were told, that Mr Baynard had rode out, and that his lady was dressing; but we were introduced to a parlour, so very fine and delicate, that in all appearance it was designed to be seen only, not inhabited. The chairs and couches were carved, gilt, and covered with rich damask, so smooth and slick, that they looked as if they had never been sat upon. There was no carpet upon the floor, but the boards were rubbed and waxed in such a manner, that we could not walk, but were obliged to slide along them; and as for the stove, it was too bright and polished to be polluted with seacoal, or stained by the smoke of any gross material fireWhen we had remained above half an hour sacrificing to the inhospitable powers in the temple of cold reception, my friend Baynard arrived, and understanding we were in the house, made his appearance, so meagre, yellow, and dejected, that I really should not have known him, had I met with him in any other place. Running up to me, with great eagerness, he strained me in his embrace, and his heart was so full, that for some minutes he could not speak. Having saluted us all round, he perceived our uncomfortable situation, and conducting us into another apartment, which had fire in the chimney, called for chocolateThen, withdrawing, he returned with a compliment from his wife, and, in the mean time, presented his son Harry, a shambling, bleareyed boy, in the habit of a hussar; very rude, forward, and impertinent. His father would have sent him to a boardingschool, but his mamma and aunt would not hear of his lying out of the house; so that there was a clergyman engaged as his tutor in the family. As it was but just turned of twelve, and the whole house was in commotion to prepare a formal entertainment, I foresaw it would be late before we dined, and proposed a walk to Mr Baynard, that we might converse together freely. In the course of this perambulation, when I expressed some surprize that he had returned so soon from Italy, he gave me to understand, that his going abroad had not at all answered the purpose, for which he left England; that although the expence of living was not so great in Italy as at home, respect being had to the same rank of life in both countries, it had been found necessary for him to lift himself above his usual stile, that he might be on some footing with the counts, marquises, and cavaliers, with whom he kept companyHe was obliged to hire a great number of servants, to take off a great variety of rich cloaths, and to keep a sumptuous table for the fashionable scorocconi of the country; who, without a consideration of this kind, would not have payed any attention to an untitled foreigner, let his family or fortune be ever so respectableBesides, Mrs Baynard was continually surrounded by a train of expensive loungers, under the denominations of languagemasters, musicians, painters, and ciceroni; and had actually fallen into the disease of buying pictures and antiques upon her own judgment, which was far from being infallibleAt length she met with an affront, which gave her disgust to Italy, and drove her back to England with some precipitation. By means of frequenting the dutchess of Bedford's conversazione, while her grace was at Rome, Mrs Baynard became acquainted with all the fashionable people of that city, and was admitted to their assemblies without scrupleThus favoured, she conceived too great an idea of her own importance, and when the dutchess left Rome, resolved to have a conversazione that should leave the Romans no room to regret her grace's departure. She provided hands for a musical entertainment, and sent biglietti of invitation to every person of distinction; but not one Roman of the female sex appeared at her assemblyShe was that night seized with a violent fit, and kept her bed three days, at the expiration of which she declared that the air of Italy would be the ruin of her constitution. In order to prevent this catastrophe, she was speedily removed to Geneva, from whence they returned to England by the way of Lyons and Paris. By the time they arrived at Calais, she had purchased such a quantity of silks, stuffs, and laces, that it was necessary to hire a vessel to smuggle them over, and this vessel was taken by a customhouse cutter; so that they lost the whole cargo, which had cost them above eight hundred pounds. It now appears, that her travels had produced no effect upon her, but that of making her more expensive and fantastic than ever: She affected to lead the fashion, not only in point of female dress, but in every article of taste and connoisseurship. She made a drawing of the new facade to the house in the country; she pulled up the trees, and pulled down the walls of the garden, so as to let in the easterly wind, which Mr Baynard's ancestors had been at great pains to exclude. To shew her taste in laying out ground, she seized into her own hand a farm of two hundred acres, about a mile from the house, which she parcelled out into walks and shrubberies, having a great bason in the middle, into which she poured a whole stream that turned two mills, and afforded the best trout in the country. The bottom of the bason, however, was so ill secured, that it would not hold the water which strained through the earth, and made a bog of the whole plantation: in a word, the ground which formerly payed him one hundred and fifty pounds a year, now cost him two hundred pounds a year to keep it in tolerable order, over and above the first expence of trees, shrubs, flowers, turf, and gravel. There was not an inch of garden ground left about the house, nor a tree that produced fruit of any kind; nor did he raise a truss of hay, or a bushel of oats for his horses, nor had he a single cow to afford milk for his tea; far less did he ever dream of feeding his own mutton, pigs, and poultry: every article of housekeeping, even the most inconsiderable, was brought from the next market town, at the distance of five miles, and thither they sent a courier every morning to fetch hot rolls for breakfast. In short, Baynard fairly owned that he spent double his income, and that in a few years he should be obliged to sell his estate for the payment of his creditors. He said that his wife had such delicate nerves, and such imbecility of spirit, that she could neither bear remonstrance, be it ever so gentle, nor practise any scheme of retrenchment, even if she perceived the necessity of such a measure. He had therefore ceased struggling against the stream, and endeavoured to reconcile himself to ruin, by reflecting that his child at least would inherit his mother's fortune, which was secured to him by the contract of marriage. The detail which he gave me of his affairs, filled me at once with grief and indignation. I inveighed bitterly against the indiscretion of his wife, and reproached him with his unmanly acquiescence under the absurd tyranny which she exerted. I exhorted him to recollect his resolution, and make one effectual effort to disengage himself from a thraldom, equally shameful and pernicious. I offered him all the assistance in my power. I undertook to regulate his affairs, and even to bring about a reformation in his family, if he would only authorise me to execute the plan I should form for his advantage. I was so affected by the subject, that I could not help mingling tears with my remonstrances, and Baynard was so penetrated with these marks of my affection, that he lost all power of utterance. He pressed me to his breast with great emotion, and wept in silence. At length he exclaimed, 'Friendship is undoubtedly the most precious balm of life! Your words, dear Bramble, have in a great measure recalled me from an abyss of despondence, in which I have been long overwhelmed. I will, upon honour, make you acquainted with a distinct state of my affairs, and, as far as I am able to go, will follow the course you prescribe. But there are certain lengths which my natureThe truth is, there are tender connexions, of which a batchelor has no ideaShall I own my weakness? I cannot bear the thoughts of making that woman uneasy''And yet (cried I), she has seen you unhappy for a series of yearsunhappy from her misconduct, without ever shewing the least inclination to alleviate your distress''Nevertheless (said he) I am persuaded she loves me with the most warm affection; but these are incongruities in the composition of the human mind which I hold to be inexplicable.' I was shocked at his infatuation, and changed the subject, after we had agreed to maintain a close correspondence for the future. He then gave me to understand, that he had two neighbours, who, like himself, were driven by their wives at full speed, in the high road to bankruptcy and ruin. All the three husbands were of dispositions very different from each other, and, according to this variation, their consorts were admirably suited to the purpose of keeping them all three in subjection. The views of the ladies were exactly the same. They vied in grandeur, that is, in ostentation, with the wife of Sir Charles Chickwell, who had four times their fortune; and she again piqued herself upon making an equal figure with a neighbouring peeress, whose revenue trebled her own. Here then was the fable of the frog and the ox, realized in four different instances within the same county: one large fortune, and three moderate estates, in a fair way of being burst by the inflation of female vanity; and in three of these instances, three different forms of female tyranny were exercised. Mr Baynard was subjugated by practising upon the tenderness of his nature. Mr Milksan, being of a timorous disposition, truckled to the insolence of a termagant. Mr Sowerby, who was of a temper neither to be moved by fits, nor driven by menaces, had the fortune to be fitted with a helpmate, who assailed him with the weapons of irony and satire; sometimes sneering in the way of compliment; sometimes throwing out sarcastic comparisons, implying reproaches upon his want of taste, spirit, and generosity: by which means she stimulated his passions from one act of extravagance to another, just as the circumstances of her vanity required. All these three ladies have at this time the same number of horses, carriages, and servants in and out of livery; the same variety of dress; the same quantity of plate and china; the like ornaments in furniture: and in their entertainments they endeavour to exceed one another in the variety, delicacy, and expence of their dishes. I believe it will be found upon enquiry, that nineteen out of twenty, who are ruined by extravagance, fall a sacrifice to the ridiculous pride and vanity of silly women, whose parts are held in contempt by the very men whom they pillage and enslave. Thank heaven, Dick, that among all the follies and weaknesses of human nature, I have not yet fallen into that of matrimony. After Baynard and I had discussed all these matters at leisure, we returned towards the house, and met Jery with our two women, who had come forth to take the air, as the lady of the mansion had not yet made her appearance. In short, Mrs Baynard did not produce herself, till about a quarter of an hour before dinner was upon the table. Then her husband brought her into the parlour, accompanied by her aunt and son, and she received us with a coldness of reserve sufficient to freeze the very soul of hospitality. Though she knew I had been the intimate friend of her husband, and had often seen me with him in London, she shewed no marks of recognition or regard, when I addressed myself to her in the most friendly terms of salutation. She did not even express the common compliment of, I am glad to see you; or, I hope you have enjoyed your health since we had the pleasure of seeing you; or some such words of course: nor did she once open her mouth in the way of welcome to my sister and my niece: but sat in silence like a statue, with an aspect of insensibility. Her aunt, the model upon which she had been formed, was indeed the very essence of insipid formality but the boy was very pert and impudent, and prated without ceasing. At dinner, the lady maintained the same ungracious indifference, never speaking but in whispers to her aunt; and as to the repast, it was made up of a parcel of kickshaws, contrived by a French cook, without one substantial article adapted to the satisfaction of an English appetite. The pottage was little better than bread soaked in dishwashings, lukewarm. The ragouts looked as if they had been once eaten and half digested: the fricassees were involved in a nasty yellow poultice: and the rotis were scorched and stinking, for the honour of the fumet. The desert consisted of faded fruit and iced froth, a good emblem of our landlady's character; the tablebeer was sour, the water foul, and the wine vapid; but there was a parade of plate and china, and a powdered lacquey stood behind every chair, except those of the master and mistress of the house, who were served by two valets dressed like gentlemen. We dined in a large old Gothic parlour, which was formerly the hall. It was now paved with marble, and, notwithstanding the fire which had been kindled about an hour, struck me with such a chill sensation, that when I entered it the teeth chattered in my jawsIn short, every thing was cold, comfortless, and disgusting, except the looks of my friend Baynard, which declared the warmth of his affection and humanity. After dinner we withdrew into another apartment, where the boy began to be impertinently troublesome to my niece Liddy. He wanted a playfellow, forsooth; and would have romped with her, had she encouraged his advancesHe was even so impudent as to snatch a kiss, at which she changed countenance, and seemed uneasy; and though his father checked him for the rudeness of his behaviour, he became so outrageous as to thrust his hand in her bosom: an insult to which she did not tamely submit, though one of the mildest creatures upon earth. Her eyes sparkling with resentment, she started up, and lent him such a box in the ear, as sent him staggering to the other side of the room. 'Miss Melford (cried his father), you have treated him with the utmost proprietyI am only sorry that the impertinence of any child of mine should have occasioned this exertion of your spirit, which I cannot but applaud and admire.' His wife was so far from assenting to the candour of his apology, that she rose from the table, and, taking her son by the hand, 'Come, child (said she), your father cannot abide you.' So saying, she retired with this hopeful youth, and was followed by her gouvernante: but neither the one nor the other deigned to take the least notice of the company. Baynard was exceedingly disconcerted; but I perceived his uneasiness was tinctured with resentment, and derived a good omen from this discovery. I ordered the horses to be put to the carriage, and, though he made some efforts to detain us all night, I insisted upon leaving the house immediately; but, before I went away, I took an opportunity of speaking to him again in private. I said every thing I could recollect, to animate his endeavours in shaking off those shameful trammels. I made no scruple to declare, that his wife was unworthy of that tender complaisance which he had shewn for her foibles: that she was dead to all the genuine sentiments of conjugal affection; insensible of her own honour and interest, and seemingly destitute of common sense and reflection. I conjured him to remember what he owed to his father's house, to his own reputation, and to his family, including even this unreasonable woman herself, who was driving on blindly to her own destruction. I advised him to form a plan for retrenching superfluous expence, and try to convince the aunt of the necessity for such a reformation, that she might gradually prepare her niece for its execution; and I exhorted him to turn that disagreeable piece of formality out of the house, if he should find her averse to his proposal. Here he interrupted me with a sigh, observing that such a step would undoubtedly be fatal to Mrs Baynard'I shall lose all patience (cried I), to hear you talk so weaklyMrs Baynard's fits will never hurt her constitution. I believe in my conscience they are all affected: I am sure she has no feeling for your distresses; and, when you are ruined, she will appear to have no feeling for her own.' Finally, I took his word and honour that he would make an effort, such as I had advised; that he would form a plan of oeconomy, and, if he found it impracticable without my assistance, he would come to Bath in the winter, where I promised to give him the meeting, and contribute all in my power to the retrieval of his affairsWith this mutual engagement we parted; and I shall think myself supremely happy, if, by my means, a worthy man, whom I love and esteem, can be saved from misery, disgrace, and despair. I have only one friend more to visit in this part of the country, but he is of a complexion very different from that of Baynard. You have heard me mention Sir Thomas Bullford, whom I knew in Italy. He is now become a country gentleman; but, being disabled by the gout from enjoying any amusement abroad, he entertains himself within doors, by keeping open house for all corners, and playing upon the oddities and humours of his company: but he himself is generally the greatest original at his table. He is very goodhumoured, talks much, and laughs without ceasing. I am told that all the use he makes of his understanding at present, is to excite mirth, by exhibiting his guests in ludicrous attitudes. I know not how far we may furnish him with entertainment of this kind, but I am resolved to beat up his quarters, partly with a view to laugh with the knight himself, and partly to pay my respects to his lady, a goodnatured sensible woman, with whom he lives upon very easy terms, although she has not had the good fortune to bring him an heir to his estate. And now, dear Dick, I must tell you for your comfort, that you are the only man upon earth to whom I would presume to send such a longwinded epistle, which I could not find in my heart to curtail, because the subject interested the warmest passions of my heart; neither will I make any other apology to a correspondent who has been so long accustomed to the impertinence of MATT. BRAMBLE Sept. 30. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, I believe there is something mischievous in my disposition, for nothing diverts me so much as to see certain characters tormented with false terrors.We last night lodged at the house of Sir Thomas Bullford, an old friend of my uncle, a jolly fellow, of moderate intellects, who, in spite of the gout, which hath lamed him, is resolved to be merry to the last; and mirth he has a particular knack in extracting from his guests, let their humour be ever so caustic or refractory.Besides our company, there was in the house a fatheaded justice of the peace, called Frogmore, and a country practitioner in surgery, who seemed to be our landlord's chief companion and confidant.We found the knight sitting on a couch, with his crutches by his side, and his feet supported on cushions; but he received us with a hearty welcome, and seemed greatly rejoiced at our arrival.After tea, we were entertained with a sonata on the harpsichord by lady Bullford, who sung and played to admiration; but Sir Thomas seemed to be a little asinine in the article of ears, though he affected to be in raptures, and begged his wife to favour us with an arietta of her own composing.This arietta, however, she no sooner began to perform, than he and the justice fell asleep; but the moment she ceased playing, the knight waked snorting, and exclaimed, 'O cara! what d'ye think, gentlemen? Will you talk any more of your Pargolesi and your Corelli?'At the same time, he thrust his tongue in one cheek, and leered with one eye at the doctor and me, who sat on his left hand. He concluded the pantomime with a loud laugh, which he could command at all times extempore.Notwithstanding his disorder, he did not do penance at supper, nor did he ever refuse his glass when the toast went round, but rather encouraged a quick circulation, both by precept and example. I soon perceived the doctor had made himself very necessary to the baronet.He was the whetstone of his wit, the butt of his satire, and his operator in certain experiments of humour, which were occasionally tried upon strangers.Justice Frogmore was an excellent subject for this species of philosophy; sleek and corpulent, solemn, and shallow, he had studied Burn with uncommon application, but he studied nothing so much as the art of living (that is, eating) wellThis fat buck had often afforded good sport to our landlord; and he was frequently started with tolerable success, in the course of this evening; but the baronet's appetite for ridicule seemed to be chiefly excited by the appearance, address, and conversation of Lismahago, whom he attempted in all different modes of exposition; but he put me in mind of a contest that I once saw betwixt a young hound and an old hedgehogThe dog turned him over and over, and bounced and barked, and mumbled; but as often as he attempted to bite, he felt a prickle in his jaws, and recoiled in manifest confusion;The captain, when left to himself, will not fail to turn his ludicrous side to the company, but if any man attempts to force him into that attitude, he becomes stubborn as a mule, and unmanageable as an elephant unbroke. Divers tolerable jokes were cracked upon the justice, who eat a most unconscionable supper, and, among other things, a large plate of broiled mushrooms, which he had no sooner swallowed than the doctor observed, with great gravity, that they were of the kind called champignons, which in some constitutions has a poisonous effect.Mr Frogmore startled at this remark, asked, in some confusion, why he had not been so kind as to give him that notice sooner.He answered, that he took it for granted, by his eating them so heartily, that he was used to the dish; but as he seemed to be under some apprehension, he prescribed a bumper of plague water, which the justice drank off immediately, and retired to rest, not without marks of terror and disquiet. At midnight we were shewn to our different chambers, and in half an hour, I was fast asleep in bed; but about three o'clock in the morning I was waked with a dismal cry of Fire! and starting up, ran to the window in my shirt.The night was dark and stormy; and a number of people halfdressed ran backwards and forwards thro' the courtyard, with links and lanthorns, seemingly in the utmost hurry and trepidation.Slipping on my cloaths in a twinkling, I ran down stairs, and, upon enquiry, found the fire was confined to a backstair, which led to a detached apartment where Lismahago lay.By this time, the lieutenant was alarmed by bawling at his window, which was in the second story, but he could not find his cloaths in the dark, and his roomdoor was locked on the outside.The servants called to him, that the house had been robbed; that, without all doubt, the villains had taken away his cloaths, fastened the door, and set the house on fire, for the staircase was in flames.In this dilemma the poor lieutenant ran about the room naked like a squirrel in a cage, popping out his bead at the window between whiles, and imploring assistance.At length, the knight in person was brought out in his chair, attended by my uncle and all the family, including our aunt Tabitha, who screamed, and cried, and tore her hair, as if she had been distractedSir Thomas had already ordered his people to bring a long ladder which was applied to the captain's, window, and now he exhorted him earnestly to descend.There was no need of much rhetoric to persuade Lismahago, who forthwith made his exit by the window, roaring all the time to the people below to hold fast the ladder. Notwithstanding the gravity of the occasion, it was impossible to behold this scene without being seized with an inclination to laugh. The rueful aspect of the lieutenant in his shirt, with a quilted nightcap fastened under his chin, and his long lank limbs and posteriors exposed to the wind, made a very picturesque appearance, when illumined by the links and torches which the servants held up to light him in his descent.All the company stood round the ladder, except the knight, who sat in his chair, exclaiming from time to time, 'Lord, have mercy upon us!save the gentleman's life!mind your footing, dear captain! softly!stand fast!clasp the ladder with both hands!there!well done, my dear boy!O bravo!an old soldier for ever!bring a blanket bring a warm blanket to comfort his poor carcasewarm the bed in the green roomgive me your hand, dear captainI'm rejoiced to see thee safe and sound with all my heart.' Lismahago was received at the foot of the ladder by his inamorata, who snatching a blanket from one of the maids, wrapped it about his body; two menservants took him under the arms, and a female conducted him to the green room, still accompanied by Mrs Tabitha, who saw him fairly put to bed.During this whole transaction he spoke not a syllable, but looked exceeding grim, sometimes at one, sometimes at another of the spectators, who now adjourned in a body to the parlour where we had supped, every one surveying another with marks of astonishment and curiosity. The knight being seated in an easy chair, seized my uncle by the hand, and bursting into a long and loud laugh, 'Matt (cried he), crown me with oak, or ivy, or laurel, or parsely, or what you will, and acknowledge this to be a coup de maitre in the way of waggeryha, ha, ha!Such a camisciata, scagliata, beffata! O, che roba! O, what a subject!O, what caricatura!O, for a Rosa, a Rembrandt, a Schalken!Zooks, I'll give a hundred guineas to have it painted!what a fine descent from the cross, or ascent to the gallows! what lights and shadows!what a groupe below! what expression above!what an aspect!did you mind the aspect? ha, ha, ha!and the limbs, and the muscles every toe denoted terror! ha, ha, ha!then the blanket! O, what costume! St Andrew! St Lazarus! St Barrabas!ha, ha, ha!' 'After all then (cried Mr Bramble very gravely), this was no more than a false alarm.We have been frightened out of our beds, and almost out of our senses, for the joke's sake.' 'Ay, and such a joke! (cried our landlord) such a farce! such a denouement! such a catastrophe!' 'Have a little patience (replied our 'squire); we are not yet come to the catastrophe; and pray God it may not turn out a tragedy instead of a farce.The captain is one of those saturnine subjects, who have no idea of humour.He never laughs in his own person; nor can he bear that other people should laugh at his expence. Besides, if the subject had been properly chosen, the joke was too severe in all conscience.' ''Sdeath! (cried the knight) I could not have bated him an ace had he been my own father; and as for the subject, such another does not present itself once in half a century.' Here Mrs Tabitha interposing, and bridling up, declared, she did not see that Mr Lismahago was a fitter subject for ridicule than the knight himself; and that she was very much afraid, he would very soon find he had mistaken his man.The baronet was a good deal disconcerted by his intimation, saying, that he must be a Goth and a barbarian, if he did not enter into the spirit of such a happy and humourous contrivance.He begged, however, that Mr Bramble and his sister would bring him to reason; and this request was reinforced by lady Bullford, who did not fail to read the baronet a lecture upon his indiscretion, which lecture he received with submission on one side of his face, and a leer upon the other. We now went to bed for the second time; and before I got up, my uncle had visited Lismahago in the green room, and used such arguments with him, that when we met in the parlour he seemed to be quite appeased. He received the knight's apology with good grace, and even professed himself pleased at finding he had contributed to the diversion of the company.Sir Thomas shook him by the hand, laughing heartily; and then desired a pinch of snuff, in token of perfect reconciliationThe lieutenant, putting his hand in his waistcoat pocket, pulled out, instead of his own Scotch mull, a very fine gold snuffbox, which he no sooner perceived than he said, 'Here is a small mistake.' 'No mistake at all (cried the baronet): a fair exchange is no robbery.Oblige me so far, captain, as to let me keep your mull as a memorial.' 'Sir (said the lieutenant), the mull is much at your service; but this machine I can by no means retain.It looks like compounding a sort of felony in the code of honour. Besides, I don't know but there may be another joke in this conveyance; and I don't find myself disposed to be brought upon the stage again.I won't presume to make free with your pockets, but I beg you will put it up again with your own hand.' So saying, with a certain austerity of aspect, he presented the snuffbox to the knight, who received it in some confusion, and restored the mull, which he would by no means keep except on the terms of exchange. This transaction was like to give a grave cast to the conversation, when my uncle took notice that Mr Justice Frogmore had not made his appearance either at the nightalarm, or now at the general rendezvous. The baronet hearing Frogmore mentioned, 'Odso! (cried he) I had forgot the justice.Pr'ythee, doctor, go and bring him out of his kennel.' Then laughing till his sides were well shaken, he said he would shew the captain, that he was not the only person of the drama exhibited for the entertainment of the company. As to the nightscene, it could not affect the justice, who had been purposely lodged in the farther end of the house, remote from the noise, and lulled with a dose of opium into the bargain. In a few minutes, Mr Justice was led into the parlour in his nightcap and loose morninggown, rolling his head from side to side, and groaning piteously all the way.'Jesu! neighbour Frogmore (exclaimed the baronet), what is the matter?you look as if you was not a man for this world.Set him down softly on the couchpoor gentlemen!Lord have mercy upon us!What makes him so pale, and yellow, and bloated?' 'Oh, Sir Thomas! (cried the justice) I doubt 'tis all over with me Those mushrooms I eat at your table have done my businessah! oh! hey!' 'Now the Lord forbid! (said the other)what! man, have a good heartHow does thy stomach feel?hall?' To this interrogation he made no reply; but throwing aside his nightgown, discovered that his waistcoat would not meet upon his belly by five good inches at least. 'Heaven protect us all! (cried Sir Thomas) what a melancholy spectacle!never did I see a man so suddenly swelled, but when he was either just dead, or just dying.Doctor, can'st thou do nothing for this poor object?' 'I don't think the case is quite desperate (said the surgeon), but I would advise Mr Frogmore to settle his affairs with all expedition; the parson may come and pray by him, while I prepare a glyster and an emetic draught.' The justice, rolling his languid eyes, ejaculated with great fervency, 'Lord, have mercy upon us! Christ, have mercy upon us!'Then he begged the surgeon, in the name of God, to dispatch'As for my worldly affairs (said he), they are all settled but one mortgage, which must be left to my heirsbut my poor soul! my poor soul! what will become of my poor soul? miserable sinner that I am!' 'Nay, pr'ythee, my dear boy, compose thyself (resumed the knight); consider the mercy of heaven is infinite; thou can'st not have any sins of a very deep dye on thy conscience, or the devil's in't.' 'Name not the devil (exclaimed the terrified Frogmore), I have more sins to answer for than the world dreams of.Ah! friend, I have been slysly damn'd sly!Send for the parson without loss of time, and put me to bed, for I am posting to eternity.'He was accordingly raised from the couch, and supported by two servants, who led him back to his room; but before he quitted the parlour, he intreated the good company to assist him with their prayers.He added, 'Take warning by me, who am suddenly cut off in my prime, like a flower of the field; and God forgive you, Sir Thomas, for suffering such poisonous trash to be eaten at your table.' He was no sooner removed out of hearing, than the baronet abandoned himself to a violent fit of laughing, in which he was joined by the greatest part of the company; but we could hardly prevent the good lady from going to undeceive the patient, by discovering, that while he slept his waistcoat had been straitened by the contrivance of the surgeon; and that the disorder in his stomach and bowels was occasioned by some antimonial wine, which he had taken over night, under the denomination of plaguewater. She seemed to think that his apprehension might put an end to his life: the knight swore he was no such chicken, but a tough old rogue, that would live long enough to plague all his neighbours.Upon enquiry, we found his character did not intitle him to much compassion or respect, and therefore we let our landlord's humour take its course.A glyster was actually administered by an old woman of the family, who had been Sir Thomas's nurse, and the patient took a draught made with oxymel of squills to forward the operation of the antimonial wine, which had been retarded by the opiate of the preceding night. He was visited by the vicar, who read prayers, and began to take an account of the state of his soul, when those medicines produced their effect; so that the parson was obliged to hold his nose while he poured forth spiritual consolation from his mouth. The same expedient was used by the knight and me, who, with the doctor, entered the chamber at this juncture, and found Frogmore enthroned on an easingchair, under the pressure of a double evacuation. The short intervals betwixt every heave he employed in crying for mercy, confessing his sins, or asking the vicar's opinion of his case; and the vicar answered, in a solemn snuffling tone, that heightened the ridicule of the scene. The emetic having done its office, the doctor interfered, and ordered the patient to be put in bed again. When he examined the egesta, and felt his pulse, he declared that much of the virus was discharged, and, giving him a composing draught, assured him he had good hopes of his recovery.This welcome hint he received with the tears of joy in his eyes, protesting, that if he should recover, he would always think himself indebted for his life to the great skill and tenderness of his doctor, whose hand he squeezed with great fervour; and thus he was left to his repose. We were pressed to stay dinner, that we might be witnesses of his resuscitation; but my uncle insisted upon our departing before noon, that we might reach this town before it should be dark.In the meantime, lady Bullford conducted us into the garden to see a fishpond just finished, which Mr Bramble censured as being too near the parlour, where the knight now sat by himself, dozing in an elbowchair after the fatigues of his morning atchievement.In this situation he reclined, with his feet wrapped in flannel, and supported in a line with his body, when the door flying open with a violent shock, lieutenant Lismahago rushed into the room with horror in his looks, exclaiming, 'A mad dog! a mad dog!' and throwing up the window sash, leaped into the gardenSir Thomas, waked by this tremendous exclamation, started up, and forgetting his gout, followed the lieutenant's example by a kind of instinctive impulse. He not only bolted thro' the window like an arrow from a bow, but ran up to his middle in the pond before he gave the least sign of recollection. Then the captain began to bawl, 'Lord have mercy upon us!pray, take care of the gentleman!for God's sake, mind your footing, my dear boy!get warm blanketscomfort his poor carcasewarm the bed in the green room.' Lady Bullford was thunderstruck at this phaenomenon, and the rest of the company gazed in silent astonishment, while the servants hastened to assist their master, who suffered himself to be carried back into the parlour without speaking a word.Being instantly accommodated with dry clothes and flannels, comforted with a cordial, and replaced in statu quo, one of the maids was ordered to chafe his lower extremities, an operation in consequence of which his senses seemed to return and his good humour to revive.As we had followed him into the room, he looked at every individual in his turn, with a certain ludicrous expression in his countenance, but fixed his eyes in particular upon Lismahago, who presented him with a pinch of snuff, and when he took it in silence, 'Sir Thomas Bullford (said he), I am much obliged to you for all your favours, and some of them I have endeavoured to repay in your own coin.' 'Give me thy hand (cried the baronet); thou hast indeed payed me Scot and lot; and even left a balance in my hands, for which, in presence of this company, I promise to be accountable.'So saying, he laughed very heartily, and even seemed to enjoy the retaliation which had been exacted at his own expence; but lady Bullford looked very grave; and in all probability thought the lieutenant had carried his resentment too far, considering that her husband was valetudinarybut, according to the proverb, he that will play at bowls must expect to meet with rubbers. I have seen a tame bear, very diverting when properly managed, become a very dangerous wild beast when teized for the entertainment of the spectators.As for Lismahago, he seemed to think the fright and the cold bath would have a good effect upon his patient's constitution: but the doctor hinted some apprehension that the gouty matter might, by such a sudden shock, be repelled from the extremities and thrown upon some of the more vital parts of the machine.I should be very sorry to see this prognostic verified upon our facetious landlord, who told Mrs Tabitha at parting, that he hoped she would remember him in the distribution of the bride's favours, as he had taken so much pains to put the captain's parts and mettle to the proof.After all, I am afraid our squire will appear to be the greatest sufferer by the baronet's wit; for his constitution is by no means calculated for nightalarms. He has yawned and shivered all day, and gone to bed without supper; so that, as we have got into good quarters, I imagine we shall make a halt tomorrow; in which case, you will have at least one day's respite from the persecution of J. MELFORD Oct. 3. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. DEAR MARY JONES, Miss Liddy is so good as to unclose me in a kiver as fur as Gloster, and the carrier will bring it to handGod send us all safe to Monmouthshire, for I'm quite jaded with rambling'Tis a true saying, live and learn0 woman, what chuckling and changing have I seen!Well, there's nothing sartain in this worldWho would have thought that mistriss, after all the pains taken for the good of her prusias sole, would go for to throw away her poor body? that she would cast the heys of infection upon such a carryingcrow as Lashmihago! as old as Mathewsullin, as dry as a red herring, and as poor as a starved veezel0, Molly, hadst thou seen him come down the ladder, in a shurt so scanty, that it could not kiver his nakedness!The young 'squire called him Dunquickset; but he looked for all the world like CradocapMorgan, the ould tinker, that suffered at Abergany for steeling of kettleThen he's a profane scuffle, and, as Mr Clinker says, no better than an impfiddle, continually playing upon the pyebill and the newburthI doubt he has as little manners as money; for he can't say a civil word, much more make me a present of a pair of gloves for goodwill; but he looks as if he wanted to be very forewood and familiar O! that ever a gentlewoman of years and discretion should tare her air, and cry and disporridge herself for such a nubjack! as the song goes I vow she would fain have a burd That bids such a price for an owl. but, for sartain, he must have dealt with some Scotch musician to bring her to this passAs for me, I put my trust in the Lord; and I have got a slice of witch elm sowed in the gathers of my under petticoat; and Mr Clinker assures me, that by the new light of grease, I may deify the devil and all his worksBut I nose what I noseIf mistress should take up with Lashmyhago, this is no sarvice for meThank God, there's no want of places; and if it wan't for wan thing, I wouldbut, no matter Madam Baynar's woman has twenty good pounds ayear and parquisites; and dresses like a parson of distinksonI dined with her and the valley de shambles, with bags and golden jackets; but there was nothing kimfittable to eat, being as how they lived upon board, and having nothing but a piss of could cuddling tart and some blamangey, I was tuck with the cullick, and a murcey it was that mistress had her viol of assings in the cox. But, as I was saying, I think for sartain this match will go forewood; for things are come to a creesus; and I have seen with my own bays, such smugglingBut I scorn for to exclose the secrets of the family; and if it wance comes to marrying, who nose but the frolick may go roundI believes as how, Miss Liddy would have no reversion if her swan would appear; and you would be surprised, Molly, to receive a bride's fever from your humble sarvantbut this is all suppository, dear girl; and I have sullenly promised to Mr Clinker, that neither man, woman, nor child shall no that arrow said a civil thing to me in the way of infection. I hope to drink your health at Brambletonhall, in a horn of October, before the month be outPray let my bed be turned once aday, and the windore opened, while the weather is dry; and burn a few billets with some brush in the footman's garret, and see their mattrash be dry as a bone: for both our gentlemen have got a sad could by lying in damp shits at sir Tummas Ballfart's. No more at present, but my sarvice to Saul and the rest of our fellowsarvents, being, Dear Mary Jones, Always yours, WIN. JENKINS Oct. 4. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAR LETTY, This method of writing to you from time to time, without any hopes of an answer, affords me, I own, some ease and satisfaction in the 'midst of my disquiet, as it in some degree lightens the burthen of affliction: but it is at best a very imperfect enjoyment of friendship, because it admits of no return of confidence and good counselI would give the whole world to have your company for a single dayI am heartily tired of this itinerant way of life. I am quite dizzy with a perpetual succession of objectsBesides it is impossible to travel such a length of way, without being exposed to inconveniencies, dangers, and disagreeable accidents, which prove very grievous to a poor creature of weak nerves like me, and make me pay very dear for the gratification of my curiosity. Nature never intended me for the busy worldI long for repose and solitude, where I can enjoy that disinterested friendship which is not to be found among crouds, and indulge those pleasing reveries that shun the hurry and tumult of fashionable societyUnexperienced as I am in the commerce of life, I have seen enough to give me a disgust to the generality of those who carry it onThere is such malice, treachery, and dissimulation, even among professed friends and intimate companions, as cannot fail to strike a virtuous mind with horror; and when Vice quits the stage for a moment, her place is immediately occupied by Folly, which is often too serious to excite any thing but compassion. Perhaps I ought to be silent on the foibles of my poor aunt; but with you, my dear Willis, I have no secrets; and, truly, her weaknesses are such as cannot be concealed. Since the first moment we arrived at Bath, she has been employed constantly in spreading nets for the other sex; and, at length, she has caught a superannuated lieutenant, who is in a fair way to make her change her nameMy uncle and my brother seem to have no objection to this extraordinary match, which, I make no doubt, will afford abundance of matter for conversation and mirth; for my part, I am too sensible of my own weaknesses, to be diverted with those of other peopleAt present, I have something at heart that employs my whole attention, and keeps my mind in the utmost terror and suspence. Yesterday in the forenoon, as I stood with my brother at the parlour window of an inn, where we had lodged, a person passed a horseback, whom (gracious Heaven!) I instantly discovered to be Wilson! He wore a white ridingcoat, with the cape buttoned up to his chin; looking remarkably pale, and passed at a round trot, without seeming to observe usIndeed, he could not see us; for there was a blind that concealed us from the view. You may guess how I was affected at this apparition. The light forsook my eyes; and I was seized with such a palpitation and trembling, that I could not stand. I sat down upon a couch, and strove to compose myself, that my brother might not perceive my agitation; but it was impossible to escape his prying eyesHe had observed the object that alarmed me; and, doubtless, knew him at the first glanceHe now looked at me with a stern countenance; then he ran out into the street, to see what road the unfortunate horseman had takenHe afterwards dispatched his man for further intelligence, and seemed to meditate some violent design. My uncle, being out of order, we remained another night at the inn; and all day long Jery acted the part of an indefatigable spy upon my conductHe watched my very looks with such eagerness of attention, as if he would have penetrated into the utmost recesses of my heartThis may be owing to his regard for my honour, if it is not the effect of his own pride; but he is so hot, and violent, and unrelenting, that the sight of him alone throws me into a flutter; and really it will not be in my power to afford him any share of my affection, if he persists in persecuting me at this rate. I am afraid he has formed some scheme of vengeance, which will make me completely wretched! I am afraid he suspects some collusion from this appearance of Wilson.Good God! did he really appear? or was it only a phantom, a pale spectre to apprise me of his death. O Letty, what shall I do?where shall I turn for advice and consolation? shall I implore the protection of my uncle, who has been always kind and compassionate.This must be my last resource.I dread the thoughts of making him uneasy; and would rather suffer a thousand deaths than live the cause of dissension in the family.I cannot conceive the meaning of Wilson's coming hither:perhaps, it was in quest of us, in order to disclose his real name and situation:but wherefore pass without staying to make the least enquiry?My dear Willis, I am lost in conjecture. I have not closed an eye since I saw him.All night long have I been tossed about from one imagination to another. The reflection finds no resting place.I have prayed, and sighed, and wept plentifully.If this terrible suspence continues much longer, I shall have another fit of illness, and then the whole family will be in confusionIf it was consistent with the wise purposes of Providence, would I were in my graveBut it is my duty to be resigned.My dearest Letty, excuse my weaknessexcuse these blotsmy tears fall so fast that I cannot keep the paper dryyet I ought to consider that I have as yet no cause to despair but I am such a fainthearted timorous creature! Thank God, my uncle is much better than he was yesterday. He is resolved to pursue our journey strait to Wales.I hope we shall take Gloucester in our waythat hope chears my poor heart I shall once more embrace my best beloved Willis, and pour all my griefs into her friendly bosom.0 heaven! is it possible that such happiness is reserved for The dejected and forlorn LYDIA MELFORD Oct. 4. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WATKIN, I yesterday met with an incident which I believe you will own to be very surprisingAs I stood with Liddy at the window of the inn where we had lodged, who should pass by but Wilson ahorse back!I could not be mistaken in the person, for I had a full view of him as he advanced; I plainly perceived by my sister's confusion that she recognized him at the same time. I was equally astonished and incensed at his appearance, which I could not but interpret into an insult, or something worse. I ran out at the gate, and, seeing him turn the corner of the street, I dispatched my servant to observe his motions, but the fellow was too late to bring me that satisfaction. He told me, however, that there was an inn, called the Red Lion, at that end of the town, where he supposed the horseman had alighted, but that he would not enquire without further orders. I sent him back immediately to know what strangers were in the house, and he returned with a report that there was one Mr Wilson lately arrived. In consequence of this information I charged him with a note directed to that gentleman, desiring him to meet me in half an hour in a certain field at the town's end, with a case of pistols, in order to decide the difference which could not be determined at our last rencounter: but I did not think proper to subscribe the billet. My man assured me he had delivered it into his own hand; and, that having read it, he declared he would wait upon the gentleman at the place and time appointed. M'Alpine being an old soldier, and luckily sober at the time, I entrusted him with my secret. I ordered him to be within call, and, having given him a letter to be delivered to my uncle in case of accident, I repaired to the rendezvous, which was an inclosed field at a little distance from the highway. I found my antagonist had already taken his ground, wrapped in a dark horseman's coat, with a laced hat flapped over his eyes; but what was my astonishment, when, throwing off this wrapper, he appeared to be a person whom I had never seen before! He had one pistol stuck in a leather belt, and another in his hand ready for action, and, advancing a few steps, called to know if I was readyI answered, 'No,' and desired a parley; upon which he turned the muzzle of his piece towards the earth; then replaced it in his belt, and met me half wayWhen I assured him he was not the man I expected to meet, he said it might be so: that he had received a slip of paper directed to Mr Wilson, requesting him to come hither; and that as there was no other in the place of that name, he naturally concluded the note was intended for him, and him onlyI then gave him to understand, that I had been injured by a person who assumed that name, which person I had actually seen within the hour, passing through the street on horseback; that hearing there was a Mr Wilson at the Red Lion, I took it for granted he was the man, and in that belief had writ the billet; and I expressed my surprize, that he, who was a stranger to me and my concerns, should give me such a rendezvous, without taking the trouble to demand a previous explanation. He replied, that there was no other of his name in the whole country; that no such horseman had alighted at the Red Lion since nine o'clock, when he arrivedthat having had the honour to serve his majesty, he thought he could not decently decline any invitation of this kind, from what quarter soever it might come, and that if any explanation was necessary, it did not belong to him to demand it, but to the gentleman who summoned him into the field. Vexed as I was at this adventure, I could not help admiring the coolness of this officer, whose open countenance prepossessed me in his favour. He seemed to be turned of forty; wore his own short black hair, which curled naturally about his ears, and was very plain in his apparelWhen I begged pardon for the trouble I had given him, he received my apology with great good humour.He told me that he lived about ten miles off, at a small farmhouse, which would afford me tolerable lodging, if I would come and take diversion of hunting with him for a few weeks; in which case we might, perhaps, find out the man who had given me offenceI thanked him very sincerely for his courteous offer, which, I told him, I was not at liberty to accept at present, on account of my being engaged in a family party; and so we parted, with mutual professions of good will and esteem. Now tell me, dear knight, what am I to make of this singular adventure? Am I to suppose that the horseman I saw was really a thing of flesh and blood, or a bubble that vanished into air?or must I imagine Liddy knows more of the matter than she chuses to disclose?If I thought her capable of carrying on any clandestine correspondence with such a fellow, I should at once discard all tenderness, and forget that she was connected with me by the ties of bloodBut how is it possible that a girl of her simplicity and inexperience, should maintain such an intercourse, surrounded, as she is, with so many eyes, destitute of all opportunity, and shifting quarters every day of her life!Besides, she has solemnly promised. NoI can't think the girl so baseso insensible to the honour of her family.What disturbs me chiefly, is the impression which these occurrences seem to make upon her spiritsThese are the symptoms from which I conclude that the rascal has still a hold on her affection, surely I have a right to call him a rascal, and to conclude that his designs are infamous. But it shall be my fault if he does not one day repent his presumptionI confess I cannot think, much less write on this subject, with any degree of temper or patience; I shall therefore conclude with telling you, that we hope to be in Wales by the latter end of the month: but before that period you will probably hear again from your affectionate J. MELFORD Oct. 4. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, When I wrote you by last post, I did not imagine I should be tempted to trouble you again so soon: but I now sit down with a heart so full that it cannot contain itself; though I am under such agitation of spirits, that you are to expect neither method nor connexion in this addressWe have been this day within a hair's breadth of losing honest Matthew Bramble, in consequence of a cursed accident, which I will endeavour to explain.In crossing the country to get into the post road, it was necessary to ford a river, and we that were ahorseback passed without any danger or difficulty; but a great quantity of rain having fallen last night and this morning, there was such an accumulation of water, that a millhead gave way, just as the coach was passing under it, and the flood rushed down with such impetuosity, as first floated, and then fairly overturned the carriage in the middle of the streamLismahago and I, and the two servants, alighting instantaneously, ran into the river to give all the assistance in our power.Our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, who had the good fortune to be uppermost, was already half way out of the coach window, when her lover approaching, disengaged her entirely; but, whether his foot slipt, or the burthen was too great, they fell over head and ears in each others' arms. He endeavoured more than once to get up, and even to disentangle himself from her embrace, but she hung about his neck like a millstone (no bad emblem of matrimony), and if my man had not proved a stanch auxiliary, those two lovers would in all probability have gone hand in hand to the shades belowFor my part, I was too much engaged to take any cognizance of their distress.I snatched out my sister by the hair of the head, and, dragging her to the bank, recollected that my uncle had, not yet appearedRushing again into the stream, I met Clinker hauling ashore Mrs Jenkins, who looked like a mermaid with her hair dishevelled about her ears; but, when I asked if his master was safe, he forthwith shook her from him, and she must have gone to pot, if a miller had not seasonably come to her relief.As for Humphry, he flew like lightning, to the coach, that was by this time filled with water, and, diving into it, brought up the poor 'squire, to all appearance, deprived of lifeIt is not in my power to describe what I felt at this melancholy spectacleit was such an agony as baffles all description! The faithful Clinker, taking him up in his arms, as if he had been an infant of six months, carried him ashore, howling most piteously all the way, and I followed him in a transport of grief and consternationWhen he was laid upon the grass and turned from side to side, a great quantity of water ran out at his mouth, then he opened his eyes, and fetched a deep sigh. Clinker perceiving these signs of life, immediately tied up his arm with a garter, and, pulling out a horsefleam, let him blood in the farrier stile.At first a few drops only issued from the orifice, but the limb being chafed, in a little time the blood began to flow in a continued stream, and he uttered some incoherent words, which were the most welcome sounds that ever saluted my ear. There was a country inn hard by, the landlord of which had by this time come with his people to give their assistance.Thither my uncle being carried, was undressed and put to bed, wrapped in warm blankets; but having been moved too soon, he fainted away, and once more lay without sense or motion, notwithstanding all the efforts of Clinker and the landlord, who bathed his temples with Hungary water, and held a smellingbottle to his nose. As I had heard of the efficacy of salt in such cases, I ordered all that was in the house to be laid under his head and body; and whether this application had the desired effect, or nature of herself prevailed, he, in less than a quarter of an hour, began to breathe regularly, and soon retrieved his recollection, to the unspeakable joy of all the bystanders. As for Clinker, his brain seemed to be affected.He laughed, and wept, and danced about in such a distracted manner, that the landlord very judiciously conveyed him out of the room. My uncle, seeing me dropping wet, comprehended the whole of what had happened, and asked if all the company was safe?Being answered in the affirmative, he insisted upon my putting on dry clothes; and, having swallowed a little warm wine, desired he might be left to his repose. Before I went to shift myself, I inquired about the rest of the familyI found Mrs Tabitha still delirious from her fright, discharging very copiously the water she had swallowed. She was supported by the captain, distilling drops from his uncurled periwig, so lank and so dank, that he looked like Father Thames without his sedges, embracing Isis, while she cascaded in his urn. Mrs Jenkins was present also, in a loose bed gown, without either cap or handkerchief; but she seemed to be as little compos mentis as her mistress, and acted so many cross purposes in the course of her attendance, that, between the two, Lismahago had occasion for all his philosophy. As for Liddy, I thought the poor girl would have actually lost her senses. The good woman of the house had shifted her linen, and put her into bed; but she was seized with the idea that her uncle had perished, and in this persuasion made a dismal outcry; nor did she pay the least regard to what I said, when I solemnly assured her he was safe. Mr Bramble hearing the noise, and being informed of her apprehension, desired she might be brought into his chamber; and she no sooner received this intimation, than she ran thither half naked, with the wildest expression of eagerness in her countenanceSeeing the 'squire sitting up in the bed, she sprung forwards and throwing her arms about his neck, exclaimed in a most pathetic tone, 'Are youAre you indeed my uncleMy dear uncle!My best friend! My father!Are you really living? or is it an illusion of my poor brain!' Honest Matthew was so much affected, that he could not help shedding tears, while he kissed her forehead, saying, 'My dear Liddy, I hope I shall live long enough to shew how sensible I am of your affectionBut your spirits are fluttered, childYou want restGo to bed and compose yourself''Well, I will (she replied) but still methinks this cannot be realThe coach was full of waterMy uncle was under us allGracious God!You was under waterHow did you get out;tell me that? or I shall think this is all a deception''In what manner I was brought out, I know as little as you do, my dear (said the 'squire); and, truly, that is a circumstance of which I want to be informed.' I would have given him a detail of the whole adventure, but he would not hear me until I should change my clothes; so that I had only time to tell him, that he owed his life to the courage and fidelity of Clinker: and having given him this hint, I conducted my sister to her own chamber. This accident happened about three o'clock in the afternoon, and in little more than an hour the hurricane was all over; but as the carriage was found to be so much damaged, that it could not proceed without considerable repairs, a blacksmith and wheelwright were immediately sent for to the next markettown, and we congratulated ourselves upon being housed at an inn, which, though remote from the postroad, afforded exceeding good lodging. The women being pretty well composed, and the men all afoot, my uncle sent for his servant, and, in the presence of Lismahago and me, accosted him in these words'So, Clinker, I find you are resolved I shan't die by waterAs you have fished me up from the bottom at your own risque, you are at least entitled to all the money that was in my pocket, and there it is'So saying, he presented him with a purse containing thirty guineas, and a ring nearly of the same value'God forbid! (cried Clinker), your honour shall excuse meI am a poor fellow, but I have a heart O! if your honour did but know how I rejoice to seeBlessed be his holy name, that made me the humble instrumentBut as for the lucre of gain, I renounce itI have done no more than my dutyNo more than I would have done for the most worthless of my fellowcreaturesNo more than I would have done for captain Lismahago, or Archy Macalpine, or any sinner upon earthBut for your worship, I would go through fire as well as water''I do believe it, Humphry (said the 'squire); but as you think it was your duty to save my life at the hazard of your own, I think it is mine to express the sense I have of your extraordinary fidelity and attachmentI insist upon your receiving this small token of my gratitude; but don't imagine that I look upon this as an adequate recompence for the service you have done meI have determined to settle thirty pounds ayear upon you for life; and I desire these gentlemen will bear witness to this my intention, of which I have a memorandum in my pocketbook.' 'Lord make me thankful for all these mercies! (cried Clinker, sobbing), I have been a poor bankrupt from the beginningyour honour's goodness found me, when I wasnaked when I wassick and forlornI understand your honour's looksI would not give offencebut my heart is very fulland if your worship won't give me leave to speak,I must vent it in prayers to heaven for my benefactor.' When he quitted the room, Lismahago said, he should have a much better opinion of his honesty, if he did not whine and cant so abominably; but that he had always observed those weeping and praying fellows were hypocrites at bottom. Mr Bramble made no reply to this sarcastic remark, proceeding from the lieutenant's resentment of Clinker having, in pure simplicity of heart, ranked him with M'Alpine and the sinners of the earthThe landlord being called to receive some orders about the beds, told the 'squire that his house was very much at his service, but he was sure he should not have the honour to lodge him and his company. He gave us to understand that his master who lived hard by, would not suffer us to be at a public house, when there was accommodation for us at his own; and that, if he had not dined abroad in the neighbourhood he would have undoubtedly come to offer his services at our first arrival. He then launched out in praise of that gentleman, whom he had served as butler, representing him as a perfect miracle of goodness and generosity. He said he was a person of great learning, and allowed to be the best farmer in the country:that he had a lady who was as much beloved as himself, and an only son, a very hopeful young gentleman, just recovered from a dangerous fever, which had like to have proved fatal to the whole family; for, if the son had died, he was sure the parents would not have survived their lossHe had not yet finished the encomium of Mr Dennison, when this gentleman arrived in a postchaise, and his appearance seemed to justify all that had been said in his favour. He is pretty well advanced in years, but hale, robust, and florid, with an ingenuous countenance, expressive of good sense and humanity. Having condoled with us on the accident which had happened, he said he was come to conduct us to his habitation, where we should be less incommoded than at such a paultry inn, and expressed his hope that the ladies would not be the worse for going thither in his carriage, as the distance was not above a quarter of a mile. My uncle having made a proper return to this courteous exhibition, eyed him attentively, and then asked if he had not been at Oxford, a commoner of Queen's college? When Mr Dennison answered, 'Yes,' with some marks of surprise'Look at me then (said our squire) and let us see if you can recollect the features of an old friend, whom you have not seen these forty years.'The gentleman, taking him by the hand, and gazing at him earnestly,'I protest (cried he), I do think I recall the idea of Matthew Loyd of Glamorganshire, who was student of Jesus.' 'Well remembered, my dear friend, Charles Dennison (exclaimed my uncle, pressing him to his breast), I am that very identical Matthew Loyd of Glamorgan.' Clinker, who had just entered the room with some coals for the fire, no sooner heard these words, than throwing down the scuttle on the toes of Lismahago, he began to caper as if he was mad, crying'Matthew Loyd of Glamorgan!O Providence!Matthew Loyd of Glamorgan!'Then, clasping my uncle's knees, he went on in this manner'Your worship must forgive meMatthew Loyd of Glamorgan!O Lord, Sir! I can't contain myself!I shall lose my senses''Nay, thou hast lost them already, I believe (said the 'squire, peevishly), prithee, Clinker, be quietWhat is the matter?'Humphry, fumbling in his bosom, pulled out an old wooden snuffbox, which he presented in great trepidation to his master, who, opening it immediately, perceived a small cornelian seal, and two scraps of paperAt sight of these articles he started, and changed colour, and casting his eye upon the inscriptions'Ha!how!what! where (cried he) is the person here named?' Clinker, knocking his own breast, could hardly pronounce these words'Hereherehere is Matthew Loyd, as the certificate shewethHumphry Clinker was the name of the farrier that took me 'prentice''And who gave you these tokens?' said my uncle hastily'My poor mother on her deathbed'replied the other'And who was your mother?' 'Dorothy Twyford, an please your honour, heretofore barkeeper at the Angel at Chippenham.''And why were not these tokens produced before?' 'My mother told me she had wrote to Glamorganshire, at the time of my birth, but had no answer; and that afterwards, when she made enquiry, there was no such person in that county.' 'And so in consequence of my changing my name and going abroad at that very time, thy poor mother and thou have been left to want and miseryI am really shocked at the consequence of my own folly.'Then, laying his hand on Clinker's head, he added, 'Stand forth, Matthew LoydYou see, gentlemen, how the sins of my youth rise up in judgment against meHere is my direction written with my own hand, and a seal which I left at the woman's request; and this is a certificate of the child's baptism, signed by the curate of the parish.' The company were not a little surprised at this discovery, upon which Mr Dennison facetiously congratulated both the father and the son: for my part, I shook my newfound cousin heartily by the hand, and Lismahago complimented him with the tears in his eyes, for he had been hopping about the room, swearing in broad Scotch, and bellowing with the pain occasioned by the fall of the coalscuttle upon his foot. He had even vowed to drive the saul out of the body of that mad rascal: but, perceiving the unexpected turn which things had taken, he wished him joy of his good fortune, observing that it went very near his heart, as he was like to be a great toe out of pocket by the discoveryMr Dennison now desired to know for what reason my uncle had changed the name by which he knew him at Oxford, and our 'squire satisfied him, by answering to this effect'I took my mother's name, which was Loyd, as heir to her lands in Glamorganshire; but when I came of age, I sold that property, in order to clear my paternal estate, and resumed my real name; so that I am now Matthew Bramble of Brambletonhall in Monmouthshire, at your service; and this is my nephew, Jeremy Melford of Belfield, in the county of Glamorgan.' At that instant the ladies entering the room, he presented Mrs Tabitha as his sister, and Liddy as his niece. The old gentleman saluted them very cordially, and seemed struck with the appearance of my sister, whom he could not help surveying with a mixture of complacency and surprize'Sister (said my uncle), there is a poor relation that recommends himself to your good gracesThe quondam Humphry Clinker is metamorphosed into Matthew Loyd; and claims the honour of being your carnal kinsmanin short, the rogue proves to be a crab of my own planting in the days of hot blood and unrestrained libertinism.' Clinker had by this time dropt upon one knee, by the side of Mrs Tabitha, who, eyeing him askance, and flirting her fan with marks of agitation, thought proper, after some conflict, to hold out her hand for him to kiss, saying, with a demure aspect, 'Brother, you have been very wicked: but I hope you'll live to see the folly of your waysI am very sorry to say the young man, whom you have this day acknowledged, has more grace and religion, by the gift of God, than you with all your profane learning, and repeated opportunityI do think he has got the trick of the eye, and the tip of the nose of my uncle Loyd of Flluydwellyn; and as for the long chin, it is the very moral of the governor'sBrother, as you have changed his name pray change his dress also; that livery doth not become any person that hath got our blood in his veins.'Liddy seemed much pleased with this acquisition to the family.She took him by the hand, declaring she should always be proud to own her connexion with a virtuous young man, who had given so many proofs of his gratitude and affection to her uncle.Mrs. Winifred Jenkins, extremely fluttered between her surprize at this discovery, and the apprehension of losing her sweetheart, exclaimed in a giggling tone,'I wish you joy Mr ClinkerFloydI would sayhi, hi, hi!you'll be so proud you won't look at your poor fellow servants, oh, oh, oh!' Honest Clinker owned he was overjoyed at his good fortune, which was greater than he deserved'But wherefore should I be proud? (said he) a poor object conceived in sin, and brought forth in iniquity, nursed in a parish workhouse, and bred in a smithy. Whenever I seem proud, Mrs Jenkins, I beg of you to put me in mind of the condition I was in, when I first saw you between Chippenham and Marlborough.' When this momentous affair was discussed to the satisfaction of all parties concerned, the weather being dry, the ladies declined the carriage; so that we walked all together to Mr Dennison's house, where we found the tea ready prepared by his lady, an amiable matron, who received us with all the benevolence of hospitality. The house is old fashioned and irregular, but lodgeable and commodious. To the south it has the river in front, at the distance of a hundred paces; and on the north, there is a rising ground covered with an agreeable plantation; the greens and walks are kept in the nicest order, and all is rural and romantic. I have not yet seen the young gentleman, who is on a visit to a friend in the neighbourhood, from whose house he is not expected 'till tomorrow. In the mean time, as there is a man going to the next market town with letters for the post, I take this opportunity to send you the history of this day, which has been remarkably full of adventures; and you will own I give you them like a beefsteak at Dolly's, hot and hot, without ceremony and parade, just as they come from the recollection of Yours, J. MELFORD To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, Since the last trouble I gave you, I have met with a variety of incidents, some of them of a singular nature, which I reserve as a fund for conversation; but there are others so interesting, that they will not keep in petto till meeting. Know then, it was a thousand pounds to a sixpence, that you should now be executing my will, instead of perusing my letter! Two days ago, our coach was overturned in the midst of a rapid river, where my life was saved with the utmost difficulty, by the courage, activity, and presence of mind of my servant Humphry ClinkerBut this is not the most surprising circumstance of the adventureThe said Humphry Clinker proves to be Matthew Loyd, natural son of one Matthew Loyd of Glamorgan, if you know any such personYou see, Doctor, that notwithstanding all your philosophy, it is not without some reason that the Welchmen ascribe such energy to the force of bloodBut we shall discuss this point on some future occasion. This is not the only discovery which I made in consequence of our disasterWe happened to be wrecked upon a friendly shoreThe lord of the manor is no other than Charles Dennison, our fellowrake at OxfordWe are now happily housed with that gentleman, who has really attained to that pitch of rural felicity, at which I have been aspiring these twenty years in vain. He is blessed with a consort, whose disposition is suited to his own in all respects; tender, generous, and benevolentShe, moreover, possesses an uncommon share of understanding, fortitude, and discretion, and is admirably qualified to be his companion, confidant, counsellor, and coadjutrix. These excellent persons have an only son, about nineteen years of age, just such a youth as they could have wished that Heaven would bestow to fill up the measure of their enjoymentIn a word, they know no other allay to their happiness, but their apprehension and anxiety about the life and concerns of this beloved object. Our old friend, who had the misfortune to be a second brother, was bred to the law, and even called to the bar; but he did not find himself qualified to shine in that province, and had very little inclination for his professionHe disobliged his father, by marrying for love, without any consideration of fortune; so that he had little or nothing to depend upon for some years but his practice, which afforded him a bare subsistence; and the prospect of an increasing family, began to give him disturbance and disquiet. In the mean time, his father dying, was succeeded by his elder brother, a foxhunter and a sot, who neglected his affairs, insulted and oppressed his servants, and in a few years had well nigh ruined the estate, when he was happily carried off by a fever, the immediate consequence of a debauch. Charles, with the approbation of his wife, immediately determined to quit business, and retire into the country, although this resolution was strenuously and zealously opposed by every individual, whom he consulted on the subject. Those who had tried the experiment, assured him that he could not pretend to breathe in the country for less than the double of what his estate produced; that, in order to be upon the footing of a gentleman, he would be obliged to keep horses, hounds, carriages, with a suitable number of servants, and maintain an elegant table for the entertainment of his neighbours; that farming was a mystery, known only to those who had been bred up to it from the cradle, the success of it depending not only upon skill and industry, but also upon such attention and oeconomy as no gentleman could be supposed to give or practise; accordingly, every attempt made by gentlemen miscarried, and not a few had been ruined by their prosecution of agricultureNay, they affirmed that he would find it cheaper to buy hay and oats for his cattle, and to go to market for poultry, eggs, kitchen herbs, and roots, and every the most inconsiderable article of housekeeping, than to have those articles produced on his own ground. These objections did not deter Mr Dennison, because they were chiefly founded on the supposition, that he would be obliged to lead a life of extravagance and dissipation, which he and his consort equally detested, despised, and determined to avoidThe objects he had in view, were health of body, peace of mind, and the private satisfaction of domestic quiet, unallayed by actual want, and uninterrupted by the fears of indigenceHe was very moderate in his estimate of the necessaries, and even of the comforts of lifeHe required nothing but wholesome air, pure water, agreeable exercise, plain diet, convenient lodging, and decent apparel. He reflected, that if a peasant without education, or any great share of natural sagacity, could maintain a large family, and even become opulent upon a farm, for which he payed an annual rent of two or three hundred pounds to the landlord, surely he himself might hope for some success from his industry, having no rent to pay, but, on the contrary, three or four hundred pounds a year to receive. He considered, that the earth was an indulgent mother, that yielded her fruits to all her children without distinction. He had studied the theory of agriculture with a degree of eagerness and delight; and he could not conceive there was any mystery in the practice, but what he should be able to disclose by dint of care and application. With respect to houshold expence, he entered into a minute detail and investigation, by which he perceived the assertions of his friends were altogether erroneousHe found he should save sixty pounds a year in the single article of houserent, and as much more in pocketmoney and contingencies; that even butcher'smeat was twenty per cent cheaper in the country than in London; but that poultry, and almost every other circumstance of housekeeping, might be had for less than onehalf of what they cost in town; besides, a considerable saving on the side of dress, in being delivered from the oppressive imposition of ridiculous modes, invented by ignorance, and adopted by folly. As to the danger of vying with the rich in pomp and equipage, it never gave him the least disturbance. He was now turned of forty, and, having lived half that time in the busy scenes of life, was well skilled in the science of mankind. There cannot be in nature a more contemptible figure than that of a man, who, with five hundred a year, presumes to rival in expence a neighbour who possesses five times that incomeHis ostentation, far from concealing, serves only to discover his indigence, and render his vanity the more shocking; for it attracts the eyes of censure, and excites the spirit of inquiry. There is not a family in the county nor a servant in his own house, nor a farmer in the parish, but what knows the utmost farthing that his lands produce, and all these behold him with scorn or compassion. I am surprised that these reflections do not occur to persons in this unhappy dilemma, and produce a salutary effect; but the truth is, of all the passions incident to human nature, vanity is that which most effectually perverts the faculties of the understanding; nay, it sometimes becomes so incredibly depraved, as to aspire at infamy, and find pleasure in bearing the stigmas of reproach. I have now given you a sketch of the character and situation of Mr Dennison, when he came down to take possession of this estate; but as the messenger, who carries the letters to the next town, is just setting off, I shall reserve what further I have to say on this subject, till the next post, when you shall certainly hear from Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE Oct. 8. To Dr LEWIS. Once more, dear doctor, I resume the pen for your amusement. It was on the morning after our arrival that, walking out with my friend, Mr Dennison, I could not help breaking forth into the warmest expressions of applause at the beauty of the scene, which is really inchanting; and I signified, in particular, how much I was pleased with the disposition of some detached groves, that afforded at once shelter and ornament to his habitation. 'When I took possession of these lands, about two and twenty years ago (said he), there was not a tree standing within a mile of the house, except those of an old neglected orchard, which produced nothing but leaves and moss.It was in the gloomy month of November, when I arrived, and found the house in such a condition, that it might have been justly stiled the tower of desolation.The courtyard was covered with nettles and docks, and the garden exhibited such a rank plantation of weeds as I had never seen before;the windowshutters were falling in pieces,the sashes broken;and owls and jackdaws had taken possession of the chimnies.The prospect within was still more drearyAll was dark, and damp, and dirty beyond description;the rain penetrated in several parts of the roof;in some apartments the very floors had given way;the hangings were parted from the walls, and shaking in mouldy remnants; the glasses were dropping out of their frames;the familypictures were covered with dust and all the chairs and tables wormeaten and crazy.There was not a bed in the house that could be used, except one oldfashioned machine, with a high gilt tester and fringed curtains of yellow mohair, which had been, for aught I know, two centuries in the family.In short, there was no furniture but the utensils of the kitchen; and the cellar afforded nothing but a few empty butts and barrels, that stunk so abominably, that I would not suffer any body to enter it until I had flashed a considerable quantity of gunpowder to qualify the foul air within. 'An old cottager and his wife, who were hired to lie in the house, had left it with precipitation, alledging, among other causes of retreat, that they could not sleep for frightful noises, and that my poor brother certainly walked after his death.In a word, the house appeared uninhabitable; the barn, stable, and outhouses were in ruins; all the fences broken down, and the fields lying waste. 'The farmer who kept the key never dreamed I had any intention to live upon the spotHe rented a farm of sixty pounds, and his lease was just expiring.He had formed a scheme of being appointed bailiff to the estate, and of converting the house and the adjacent grounds to his own use.A hint of his intention I received from the curate at my first arrival; I therefore did not pay much regard to what he said by way of discouraging me from coming to settle in the country; but I was a little startled when he gave me warning that he should quit the farm at the expiration of his lease, unless I could abate considerably in the rent. 'At this period I accidentally became acquainted with a person, whose friendship laid the foundation of all my prosperity. In the next markettown I chanced to dine at an inn with a Mr Wilson, who was lately come to settle in the neighbourhood.He had been lieutenant of a man of war, but quitted the sea in some disgust, and married the only daughter of farmer Bland, who lives in this parish, and has acquired a good fortune in the way of husbandry.Wilson is one of the best natured men I ever knew; brave, frank, obliging, and ingenuousHe liked my conversation, I was charmed with his liberal manner; and acquaintance immediately commenced, and this was soon improved into a friendship without reserve.There are characters which, like similar particles of matter, strongly attract each other.He forthwith introduced me to his fatherinlaw, farmer Bland, who was well acquainted with every acre of my estate, of consequence well qualified to advise me on this occasion.Finding I was inclined to embrace a country life, and even to amuse myself with the occupation of farming, he approved of my designHe gave me to understand that all my farms were underlett; that the estate was capable of great improvement; that there was plenty of chalk in the neighbourhood; and that my own ground produced excellent marle for manure.With respect to the farm, which was like to fall into my hands, he said he would willingly take it at the present rent; but at the same time owned, that if I would expend two hundred pounds in enclosure, it would be worth more than double the sum. 'Thus encouraged, I began the execution of my scheme without further delay, and plunged into a sea of expence, though I had no fund in reserve, and the whole produce of the estate did not exceed three hundred pounds a yearIn one week, my house was made weathertight, and thoroughly cleansed from top to bottom; then it was well ventilated by throwing all the doors and windows open, and making blazing fires of wood in every chimney from the kitchen to the garrets. The floors were repaired, the sashes new glazed, and out of the old furniture of the whole house, I made shift to fit up a parlour and three chambers in a plain yet decent manner.The courtyard was cleared of weeds and rubbish, and my friend Wilson charged himself with the dressing of the garden; bricklayers were set at work upon the barn and stable; and labourers engaged to restore the fences, and begin the work of hedging and ditching, under the direction of farmer Bland, at whose recommendation I hired a careful hind to lie in the house, and keep constant fires in the apartments. 'Having taken these measures, I returned to London, where I forthwith sold off my householdfurniture, and, in three weeks from my first visit, brought my wife hither to keep her Christmas.Considering the gloomy season of the year, the dreariness of the place, and the decayed aspect of our habitation, I was afraid that her resolution would sink under the sudden transition from a town life to such a melancholy state of rustication; but I was agreeably disappointed.She found the reality less uncomfortable than the picture I had drawn.By this time indeed, things were mended in appearanceThe outhouses had risen out of their ruins; the pigeonhouse was rebuilt, and replenished by Wilson, who also put my garden in decent order, and provided a good stock of poultry, which made an agreeable figure in my yard; and the house, on the whole, looked like the habitation of human creatures.Farmer Bland spared me a milch cow for my family, and an ordinary saddlehorse for my servant to go to market at the next town.I hired a country lad for a footman, the hind's daughter was my housemaid, and my wife had brought a cookmaid from London. 'Such was my family when I began housekeeping in this place, with three hundred pounds in my pocket, raised from the sale of my superfluous furniture.I knew we should find occupation enough through the day to employ our time; but I dreaded the long winter evenings; yet, for those too we found a remedy: The curate, who was a single man, soon became so naturalized to the family, that he generally lay in the house; and his company was equally agreeable and useful. He was a modest man, a good scholar, and perfectly well qualified to instruct me in such country matters as I wanted to know.Mr Wilson brought his wife to see us, and she became so fond of Mrs Dennison, that she said she was never so happy as when she enjoyed the benefit of her conversation.She was then a fine buxom country lass, exceedingly docile, and as goodnatured as her husband Jack Wilson; so that a friendship ensued among the women, which hath continued to this day. 'As for Jack, he hath been my constant companion, counsellor, and commissary.I would not for a hundred pounds you should leave my house without seeing him.Jack is an universal geniushis talents are really astonishing:He is an excellent carpenter, joiner, and turner, and a cunning artist in iron and brass.He not only superintended my oeconomy, but also presided over my pastimesHe taught me to brew beer, to make cyder, perry, mead, usquebaugh, and plaguewater; to cook several outlandish delicacies, such as ollas, pepperpots, pillaws, corys, chabobs, and stufatas.He understands all manner of games from chess down to chuckfarthing, sings a good song, plays upon the violin, and dances a hornpipe with surprising agility.He and I walked, and rode, and hunted, and fished together, without minding the vicissitudes of the weather; and I am persuaded, that in a raw, moist climate, like this of England, continual exercise is as necessary as food to the preservation of the individual.In the course of two and twenty years, there has not been one hour's interruption or abatement in the friendship subsisting between Wilson's family and mine; and, what is a rare instance of good fortune, that friendship is continued to our children.His son and mine are nearly of the same age and the same disposition; they have been bred up together at the same school and college, and love each other with the warmest affection. 'By Wilson's means, I likewise formed an acquaintance with a sensible physician, who lives in the next markettown; and his sister, an agreeable old maiden, passed the Christmas holidays at our house. Mean while I began my farming with great eagerness, and that very winter planted these groves that please you so much.As for the neighbouring gentry, I had no trouble from that quarter during my first campaign; they were all gone to town before I settled in the country; and by the summer I had taken measures to defend myself from their attacks.When a gay equipage came to my gates, I was never at home; those who visited me in a modest way, I received; and according to the remarks I made on their characters and conversation, either rejected their advances, or returned their civilityI was in general despised among the fashionable company, as a low fellow, both in breeding and circumstances; nevertheless, I found a few individuals of moderate fortune, who gladly adopted my stile of living; and many others would have acceded to our society, had they not been prevented by the pride, envy, and ambition of their wives and daughters.Those, in times of luxury and dissipation, are the rocks upon which all the small estates in the country are wrecked. 'I reserved in my own hands, some acres of ground adjacent to the house, for making experiments in agriculture, according to the directions of Lyle, Tull, Hart, Duhamel, and others who have written on this subject; and qualified their theory with the practical observations of farmer Bland, who was my great master in the art of husbandry.In short, I became enamoured of a country life; and my success greatly exceeded my expectationI drained bogs, burned heath, grubbed up furze and fern; I planted copse and willows where nothing else would grow; I gradually inclosed all my farms, and made such improvements that my estate now yields me clear twelve hundred pounds a yearAll this time my wife and I have enjoyed uninterrupted health, and a regular flow of spirits, except on a very few occasions, when our cheerfulness was invaded by such accidents as are inseparable from the condition of life. I lost two children in their infancy, by the smallpox, so that I have one son only, in whom all our hopes are centered.He went yesterday to visit a friend, with whom he has stayed all night, but he will be here to dinner.I shall this day have the pleasure of presenting him to you and your family; and I flatter myself you will find him not altogether unworthy of our affection. 'The truth is, either I am blinded by the partiality of a parent, or he is a boy of very amiable character; and yet his conduct has given us unspeakable disquiet.You must know, we had projected a match between him and a gentleman's daughter in the next county, who will in all probability be heiress of a considerable fortune; but, it seems, he had a personal disgust to the alliance. He was then at Cambridge, and tried to gain time on various pretences; but being pressed in letters by his mother and me to give a definitive answer, he fairly gave his tutor the slip, and disappeared about eight months ago.Before he took this rash step, he wrote me a letter, explaining his objections to the match, and declaring, that he would keep himself concealed until he should understand that his parents would dispense with his contracting an engagement that must make him miserable for life, and he prescribed the form of advertising in a certain newspaper, by which he might be apprized of our sentiments on this subject. 'You may easily conceive how much we were alarmed and afflicted by this elopement, which he had made without dropping the least hint to his companion Charles Wilson, who belonged to the same college.We resolved to punish him with the appearance of neglect, in hopes that he would return of his own accord; but he maintained his purpose till the young lady chose a partner for herself; then he produced himself, and made his peace by the mediation of Wilson.Suppose we should unite our families by joining him with your niece, who is one of the most lovely creatures I ever beheld.My wife is already as fond of her as if she were her own child, and I have a presentiment that my son will be captivated by her at first sight.' 'Nothing could be more agreeable to all our family (said I) than such an alliance; but, my dear friend, candour obliges me to tell you, that I am afraid Liddy's heart is not wholly disengagedthere is a cursed obstacle''You mean the young stroller at Gloucester (said he)You are surprised that I should know this circumstance; but you will be more surprised when I tell you that stroller is no other than my son George DennisonThat was the character he assumed in his eclipse.' 'I am, indeed, astonished and overjoyed (cried I), and shall be happy beyond expression to see your proposal take effect.' He then gave me to understand that the young gentleman, at his emerging from concealment, had disclosed his passion for Miss Melford, the niece of Mr Bramble, of Monmouthshire. Though Mr Dennison little dreamed that this was his old friend Matthew Loyd, he nevertheless furnished his son with proper credentials, and he had been at Bath, London, and many other places in quest of us, to make himself and his pretensions known. The bad success of his enquiry had such an effect upon his spirits, that immediately at his return he was seized with a dangerous fever, which overwhelmed his parents with terror and affliction; but he was now happily recovered, though still weak and disconsolate. My nephew joining us in our walk, I informed him of these circumstances, with which he was wonderfully pleased. He declared he would promote the match to the utmost of his power, and that he longed to embrace young Mr Dennison as his friend and brother.Mean while, the father went to desire his wife to communicate this discovery gradually to Liddy, that her delicate nerves might not suffer too sudden a shock; and I imparted the particulars to my sister Tabby, who expressed some surprize, not altogether unmixed, I believe, with an emotion of envy; for, though she could have no objection to an alliance at once so honourable and advantageous, she hesitated in giving her consent on pretence of the youth and inexperience of the parties: at length, however, she acquiesced, in consequence of having consulted with captain Lismahago. Mr Dennison took care to be in the way when his son arrived at the gate, and, without giving him time or opportunity to make any enquiry about the strangers, brought him up stairs to be presented to Mr Loyd and his familyThe first person he saw when he entered the room, was Liddy, who, notwithstanding all her preparation, stood trembling in the utmost confusionAt sight of this object he was fixed motionless to the floor, and, gazing at her with the utmost eagerness of astonishment, exclaimed, 'Sacred heaven! what is this!ha! wherefore' Here his speech failing, he stood straining his eyes, in the most emphatic silence 'George (said his father), this is my friend Mr Loyd.' Roused at this intimation, he turned and received my salute, when I said, 'Young gentleman, if you had trusted me with your secret at our last meeting, we should have parted upon better terms.' Before he could make any answer, Jery came round and stood before him with open arms.At first, he started and changed colour; but after a short pause, he rushed into his embrace, and they hugged one another as if they had been intimate friends from their infancy: then he payed his respects to Mrs Tabitha, and advancing to Liddy, 'Is it possible, (cried he), that my senses do not play me false! that I see Miss Melford under my father's roofthat I am permitted to speak to her without giving offenceand that her relations have honoured me with their countenance and protection.' Liddy blushed, and trembled, and faltered'To be sure, sir (said she), it is a very surprising circumstancea greata providentialI really know not what I saybut I beg you will think I have said what's agreeable.' Mrs Dennison interposing said, 'Compose yourselves, my dear children.Your mutual happiness shall be our peculiar care.' The son going up to his mother, kissed one hand; my niece bathed the other with her tears; and the good old lady pressed them both in their turns to her breast.The lovers were too much affected to get rid of their embarrassment for one day; but the scene was much enlivened by the arrival of Jack Wilson, who brought, as usual, some game of his own killingHis honest countenance was a good letter of recommendation. I received him like a dear friend after a long separation; and I could not help wondering to see him shake Jery by the hand as an old acquaintanceThey had, indeed, been acquainted some days, in consequence of a diverting incident, which I shall explain at meeting. That same night a consultation was held upon the concerns of the lovers, when the match was formally agreed to, and all the marriage articles were settled without the least dispute.My nephew and I promised to make Liddy's fortune five thousand pounds. Mr Dennison declared, he would make over one half of his estate immediately to his son, and that his daughterinlaw should be secured in a jointure of four hundredTabby proposed, that, considering their youth, they should undergo one year at least, of probation before the indissoluble knot should be tied; but the young gentleman being very impatient and importunate, and the scheme implying that the young couple should live in the house, under the wings of his parents, we resolved to make them happy without further delay. As the law requires that the parties should be some weeks resident in the parish, we shall stay here till the ceremony is performed.Mr Lismahago requests that he may take the benefit of the same occasion; so that next Sunday the banns will be published for all four together.I doubt I shall not be able to pass my Christmas with you at Brambletonhall.Indeed, I am so agreeably situated in this place, that I have no desire to shift my quarters; and I foresee, that when the day of separation comes, there will be abundance of sorrow on all sides.In the mean time, we must make the most of those blessings which Heaven bestows.Considering how you are tethered by your profession, I cannot hope to see you so far from home; yet the distance does not exceed a summerday's journey, and Charles Dennison, who desires to be remembered to you, would be rejoiced to see his old compotator; but as I am now stationary, I expect regular answers to the epistles of Yours invariably, MATT. BRAMBLE Oct. 11. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon. DEAR WAT, Every day is now big with incident and discoveryYoung Mr Dennison proves to be no other than that identical person whom I have execrated so long, under the name of WilsonHe had eloped from college at Cambridge, to avoid a match that he detested, and acted in different parts of the country as a stroller, until the lady in question made choice of a husband for herself; then he returned to his father, and disclosed his passion for Liddy, which met with the approbation of his parents, though the father little imagined that Mr Bramble was his old companion Matthew Loyd. The young gentleman, being impowered to make honourable proposals to my uncle and me, had been in search of us all over England, without effect; and he it was whom I had seen pass on horseback by the window of the inn, where I stood with my sister, but he little dreamed that we were in the houseAs for the real Mr Wilson, whom I called forth to combat, by mistake, he is the neighbour and intimate friend of old Mr Dennison, and this connexion had suggested to the son the idea of taking that name while he remained in obscurity. You may easily conceive what pleasure I must have felt on discovering that the honour of our family was in no danger from the conduct of a sister whom I love with uncommon affection; that, instead of debasing her sentiments and views to a wretched stroller, she had really captivated the heart of a gentleman, her equal in rank and superior in fortune; and that, as his parents approved of his attachment, I was on the eve of acquiring a brotherinlaw so worthy of my friendship and esteem. George Dennison is, without all question, one of the most accomplished young fellows in England. His person is at once elegant and manly, and his understanding highly cultivated. Tho' his spirit is lofty, his heart is kind; and his manner so engaging, as to command veneration and love, even from malice and indifference. When I weigh my own character with his, I am ashamed to find myself so light in the balance; but the comparison excites no envyI propose him as a model for imitationI have endeavoured to recommend myself to his friendship, and hope I have already found a place in his affection. I am, however, mortified to reflect what flagrant injustice we every day commit, and what absurd judgment we form, in viewing objects through the falsifying mediums of prejudice and passion. Had you asked me a few days ago, the picture of Wilson the player, I should have drawn a portrait very unlike the real person and character of George Dennison. Without all doubt, the greatest advantage acquired in travelling and perusing mankind in the original, is that of dispelling those shameful clouds that darken the faculties of the mind, preventing it from judging with candour and precision. The real Wilson is a great original, and the best tempered, companionable man I ever knewI question if ever he was angry or lowspirited in his life. He makes no pretensions to letters; but he is an adept in every thing else that can be either useful or entertaining. Among other qualifications, he is a complete sportsman, and counted the best shot in the county. He and Dennison, and Lismahago and I, attended by Clinker, went ashooting yesterday, and made a great havock among the partridgesTomorrow we shall take the field against the woodcocks and snipes. In the evening we dance and sing, or play at commerce, loo, and quadrille. Mr Dennison is an elegant poet, and has written some detached pieces on the subject of his passion for Liddy, which must be very flattering to the vanity of a young womanPerhaps he is one of the greatest theatrical geniuses that ever appeared. He sometimes entertains us with reciting favourite speeches from our best plays. We are resolved to convert the great hall into a theatre, and get up the Beaux Stratagem without delayI think I shall make no contemptible figure in the character of Scrub; and Lismahago will be very great in Captain Gibbet. Wilson undertakes to entertain the country people with Harlequin Skeleton, for which he has got a jacket ready painted with his own hand. Our society is really enchanting. Even the severity of Lismahago relaxes, and the vinegar of Mrs Tabby is remarkably dulcified, ever since it was agreed that she should take precedency of her niece in being first noosed: for, you must know, the day is fixed for Liddy's marriage; and the banns for both couples have been already once published in the parish church. The Captain earnestly begged that one trouble might serve for all, and Tabitha assented with a vile affectation of reluctance. Her inamorato, who came hither very slenderly equipt, has sent for his baggage to London, which, in all probability, will not arrive in time for the wedding; but it is of no great consequence, as every thing is to be transacted with the utmost privacyMeanwhile, directions are given for making out the contracts of marriage, which are very favourable for both females; Liddy will be secured in a good jointure; and her aunt will remain mistress of her own fortune, except one half of the interest, which her husband shall have a right to enjoy for his natural life: I think this is as little in conscience as can be done for a man who yokes with such a partner for life. These expectants seem to be so happy, that if Mr Dennison had an agreeable daughter, I believe I should be for making the third couple in this country dance. The humour seems to be infectious; for Clinker, alias Loyd, has a month's mind to play the fool, in the same fashion, with Mrs Winifred Jenkins. He has even sounded me on the subject; but I have given him no encouragement to prosecute this schemeI told him I thought he might do better, as there was no engagement nor promise subsisting; that I did not know what designs my uncle might have formed for his advantage; but I was of opinion, that he should not, at present, run the risque of disobliging him by any premature application of this natureHonest Humphry protested he would suffer death sooner than do or say any thing that should give offence to the 'squire: but he owned he had a kindness for the young woman, and had reason to think she looked upon him with a favourable eye; that he considered this mutual manifestation of good will, as an engagement understood, which ought to be binding to the conscience of an honest man; and he hoped the 'squire and I would be of the same opinion, when we should be at leisure to bestow any thought about the matterI believe he is in the right; and we shall find time to take his case into considerationYou see we are fixed for some weeks at least, and as you have had a long respite, I hope you will begin immediately to discharge the arrears due to Your affectionate, J. MELFORD Oct. 14. To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester. MY DEAR, DEAR LETTY, Never did I sit down to write in such agitation as I now feelIn the course of a few days, we have met with a number of incidents so wonderful and interesting, that all my ideas are thrown into confusion and perplexityYou must not expect either method or coherence in what I am going to relatemy dearest Willis. Since my last, the aspect of affairs is totally changed!and so changed! but I would fain give you a regular detailIn passing a river about eight days ago, our coach was overturned, and some of us narrowly escaped with lifeMy uncle had well nigh perished. O Heaven, I cannot reflect upon that circumstance without horrorI should have lost my best friend, my father and protector, but for the resolution and activity of his servant Humphry Clinker, whom Providence really seems to have placed near him for the necessity of this occasion.I would not be thought superstitious; but surely he acted from a stronger impulse than common fidelity. Was it not the voice of nature that loudly called upon him to save the life of his own father? for, 0 Letty, it was discovered that Humphry Clinker was my uncle's natural son. Almost at the same instant, a gentleman, who came to offer us his assistance, and invite us to his house, turned out to be a very old friend of Mr Bramble.His name is Mr Dennison, one of the worthiest men living; and his lady is a perfect saint upon earth. They have an only sonwho do you think is this only son?O Letty!O gracious heaven! how my heart palpitates, when I tell you that this only son of Mr Dennison's, is that very identical youth who, under the name of Wilson, has made such ravage in my heart!Yes, my dear friend! Wilson and I are now lodged in the same house, and converse together freelyHis father approves of his sentiments in my favour; his mother loves me with all the tenderness of a parent; my uncle, my aunt and my brother, no longer oppose my inclinationsOn the contrary, they have agreed to make us happy without delay; and in three weeks or a month, if no unforeseen accident intervenes, your friend Lydia Melford, will have changed her name and conditionI say, if no accident intervenes, because such a torrent of success makes me tremble!I wish there may not be something treacherous in this sudden reconciliation of fortuneI have no meritI have no title to such felicity. Far from enjoying the prospect that lies before me, my mind is harrassed with a continued tumult, made up of hopes and wishes, doubts and apprehensionsI can neither eat nor sleep, and my spirits are in perpetual flutter.I more than ever feel that vacancy in my heart, which your presence alone can fill.The mind, in every disquiet, seeks to repose itself on the bosom of a friend; and this is such a trial as I really know not how to support without your company and counselI must, therefore, dear Letty, put your friendship to the testI must beg you will come and do the last offices of maidenhood to your companion Lydia Melford. This letter goes inclosed in one to our worthy governess, from Mrs Dennison, entreating her to interpose with your mamma, that you may be allowed to favour us with your company on this occasion; and I flatter myself that no material objection can be made to our request. The distance from hence to Gloucester, does not exceed one hundred miles, and the roads are good.Mr Clinker, alias Loyd, shall be sent over to attend your motionsIf you step into the postchaise, with your maid Betty Barker, at seven in the morning, you will arrive by four in the afternoon at the halfway house, where there is good accommodation. There you shall be met by my brother and myself, who will next day conduct you to this place, where, I am sure, you will find yourself perfectly at your case in the midst of an agreeable society.Dear Letty, I will take no refusalif you have any friendshipany humanityyou will come.I desire that immediate application may be made to your mamma; and that the moment her permission is obtained, you will apprise Your ever faithful, LYDIA MELFORD Oct. 14. To Mrs JERMYN, at her house in Gloucester. DEAR MADAM, Though I was not so fortunate as to be favoured with an answer to the letter with which I troubled you in the spring, I still flatter myself that you retain some regard for me and my concerns. I am sure the care and tenderness with which I was treated, under your roof and tuition, demand the warmest returns of gratitude and affection on my part, and these sentiments, I hope, I shall cherish to my dying dayAt present, I think it my duty to make you acquainted with the happy issue of that indiscretion by which I incurred your displeasure.Ah! madam, the slighted Wilson is metamorphosed into George Dennison, only son and heir of a gentleman, whose character is second to none in England, as you may understand upon inquiry. My guardian, my brother and I, are now in his house; and an immediate union of the two families is to take place in the persons of the young gentleman and your poor Lydia Melford.You will easily conceive how embarrassing this situation must be to a young inexperienced creature like me, of weak nerves and strong apprehensions; and how much the presence of a friend and confidant would encourage and support me on this occasion. You know, that of all the young ladies, Miss Willis was she that possessed the greatest share of my confidence and affection; and, therefore, I fervently wish to have the happiness of her company at this interesting crisis. Mrs Dennison, who is the object of universal love and esteem, has, at my request, written to you on this subject, and I now beg leave to reinforce her sollicitations.My dear Mrs Jermyn! my ever honoured governess! let me conjure you by that fondness which once distinguished your favourite Lydia! by that benevolence of heart, which disposes you to promote the happiness of your fellowcreatures in general! lend a favourable ear to my petition, and use your influence with Letty's mamma, that my most earnest desire may be gratified. Should I be indulged in this particular, I will engage to return her safe, and even to accompany her to Gloucester, where, if you will give me leave, I will present to you, under another name, Dear Madam, Your most affectionate Humble servant, And penitent, LYDIA MELFORD Oct. 14. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. O MARY JONES! MARY JONES! I have met with so many axidents, suprisals, and terrifications, that I am in a pafeck fantigo, and I believe I shall never be my own self again. Last week I was dragged out of a river like a drowned rat, and lost a brannew nightcap, with a sulfer stayhook, that cost me a good halfacrown, and an odd shoe of green gallow monkey; besides wetting my cloaths and taring my smuck, and an ugly gash made in the back part of my thy, by the stump of a treeTo be sure Mr Clinker tuck me out of the cox; but he left me on my back in the water, to go to the 'squire; and I mought have had a watry grave, if a millar had not brought me to the dry landBut, O! what choppings and changes girlThe player man that came after Miss Liddy, and frightened me with a beard at Bristol Well, is now matthewmurphy'd into a fine young gentleman, son and hare of 'squire DollisonWe are all together in the same house, and all parties have agreed to the match, and in a fortnite the surrymony will be performed. But this is not the only wedding we are to haveMistriss is resolved to have the same frolick, in the naam of God! Last Sunday in the parish crutch, if my own ars may be trusted, the clerk called the banes of marridge betwixt Opaniah Lashmeheygo, and Tapitha Brample, spinster; he mought as well have called her inkleweaver, for she never spun and hank of yarn in her lifeYoung 'squire Dollison and Miss Liddy make the second kipple; and there might have been a turd, but times are changed with Mr ClinkerO Molly! what do'st think? Mr Clinker is found to be a pyeblow of our own 'squire, and his rite naam is Mr Matthew Loyd (thof God he nose how that can be); and he is now out of livery, and wares rufflesbut I new him when he was out at elbows, and had not a rag to kiver his pistereroes; so he need not hold his head so highHe is for sartin very umble and compleasant, and purtests as how he has the same regard as before; but that he is no longer his own master, and cannot portend to marry without the 'squire's consentHe says he must wait with patience, and trust to Providence, and such nonsenseBut if so be as how his regard be the same, why stand shilly shally? Why not strike while the iron is hot, and speak to the 'squire without loss of time? What subjection can the 'squire make to our coming togetherThof my father wan't a gentleman, my mother was an honest womanI didn't come on the wrong side of the blanket, girlMy parents were marred according to the right of holy mother crutch, in the face of men and anglesMark that, Mary Jones. Mr Clinker (Loyd I would say) had best look to his tackle. There be other chaps in the market, as the saying isWhat would he say if I should except the soot and sarvice of the young squire's valley? Mr Machappy is a gentleman born, and has been abroad in the warsHe has a world of buck larning, and speaks French, and Ditch, and Scotch, and all manner of outlandish lingos; to be sure he's a little the worse for the ware, and is much given to drink; but then he's goodtempered in his liquor, and a prudent woman mought wind him about her fingerBut I have no thoughts of him, I'll assure youI scorn for to do, or to say, or to think any thing that mought give unbreech to Mr Loyd, without furder occasionBut then I have such vapours, Molly I sit and cry by myself, and take ass of etida, and smill to burnt fathers, and kindalsnuffs; and I pray constantly for grease, that I may have a glimpse of the newlight, to shew me the way through this wretched veil of tares. And yet, I want for nothing in this family of love, where every sole is so kind and so courteous, that wan would think they are so many saints in haven. Dear Molly, I recommend myself to your prayers, being, with my sarvice to Saul, your ever loving, and discounselled friend, WIN. JENKINS Oct. 14. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DICK, You cannot imagine what pleasure I have in seeing your handwriting, after such a long cessation on your side of our correspondenceYet, Heaven knows, I have often seen your handwriting with disgustI mean, when it appeared in abbreviations of apothecary's LatinI like your hint of making interest for the reversion of the collector's place, for Mr Lismahago, who is much pleased with the scheme, and presents you with his compliments and best thanks for thinking so kindly of his concernsThe man seems to mend, upon further acquaintance. That harsh reserve, which formed a disagreeable husk about his character, begins to peel off in the course of our communicationI have great hopes that he and Tabby will be as happily paired as any two draught animals in the kingdom; and I make no doubt but that he will prove a valuable acquisition to our little society, in the article of conversation, by the fireside in winter. Your objection to my passing this season of the year at such a distance from home, would have more weight if I did not find myself perfectly at my ease where I am; and my health so much improved, that I am disposed to bid defiance to gout and rheumatismI begin to think I have put myself on the superannuated list too soon, and absurdly sought for health in the retreats of lazinessI am persuaded that all valetudinarians are too sedentary, too regular, and too cautiousWe should sometimes increase the motion of the machine, to unclog the wheels of life; and now and then take a plunge amidst the waves of excess, in order to caseharden the constitution. I have even found a change of company as necessary as a change of air, to promote a vigorous circulation of the spirits, which is the very essence and criterion of good health. Since my last, I have been performing the duties of friendship, that required a great deal of exercise, from which I hope to derive some benefitUnderstanding, by the greatest accident in the world, that Mr Baynard's wife was dangerously ill of a pleuritic fever, I borrowed Dennison's postchaise, and went across the country to his habitation, attended only by Loyd (quondam Clinker) on horseback.As the distance is not above thirty miles, I arrived about four in the afternoon, and meeting the physician at the door, was informed that his patient had just expired.I was instantly seized with a violent emotion, but it was not grief.The family being in confusion, I ran up stairs into the chamber, where, indeed, they were all assembled.The aunt stood wringing her hands in a kind of stupefaction of sorrow, but my friend acted all the extravagancies of afflictionHe held the body in his arms, and poured forth such a lamentation, that one would have thought he had lost the most amiable consort and valuable companion upon earth. Affection may certainly exist independent of esteem; nay, the same object may be lovely in one respect, and detestable in anotherThe mind has a surprising faculty of accommodating, and even attaching itself, in such a manner, by dint of use, to things that are in their own nature disagreeable, and even pernicious, that it cannot bear to be delivered from them without reluctance and regret. Baynard was so absorbed in his delirium, that he did not perceive me when I entered, and desired one of the women to conduct the aunt into her own chamber.At the same time I begged the tutor to withdraw the boy, who stood gaping in a corner, very little affected with the distress of the scene.These steps being taken, I waited till the first violence of my friend's transport was abated, then disengaged him gently from the melancholy object, and led him by the hand into another apartment; though he struggled so hard, that I was obliged to have recourse to the assistance of his valet de chambreIn a few minutes, however, he recollected himself, and folding me in his arms, 'This (cried he), is a friendly office, indeed!I know not how you came hither; but, I think, Heaven sent you to prevent my going distractedO Matthew! I have lost my dear Harriet!my poor, gentle, tender creature, that loved me with such warmth and purity of affectionmy constant companion of twenty years! She's goneshe's gone for ever!Heaven and earth! where is she?Death shall not part us!' So saying, he started up, and could hardly be withheld from returning to the scene we had quittedYou will perceive it would have been very absurd for me to argue with a man that talked so madly.On all such occasions, the first torrent of passion must be allowed to subside gradually.I endeavoured to beguile his attention by starting little hints and insinuating other objects of discourse imperceptibly; and being exceedingly pleased in my own mind at this event, I exerted myself with such an extraordinary flow of spirits as was attended with success.In a few hours, he was calm enough to hear reason, and even to own that Heaven could not have interposed more effectually to rescue him from disgrace and ruin.That he might not, however, relapse into weaknesses for want of company, I passed the night in his chamber, in a little tent bed brought thither on purpose; and well it was I took this precaution, for he started up in bed several times, and would have played the fool, if I had not been present. Next day he was in a condition to talk of business, and vested me with full authority over his household, which I began to exercise without loss of time, tho' not before he knew and approved of the scheme I had projected for his advantage.He would have quitted the house immediately; but this retreat I opposed.Far from encouraging a temporary disgust, which might degenerate into an habitual aversion, I resolved, if possible, to attach him more than ever to his Houshold Gods.I gave directions for the funeral to be as private as was consistant with decency; I wrote to London, that an inventory and estimate might be made of the furniture and effects in his townhouse, and gave notice to the landlord, that Mr Baynard should quit the premises at Ladyday; I set a person at work to take account of every thing in the countryhouse, including horses, carriages, and harness; I settled the young gentleman at a boardingschool, kept by a clergyman in the neighbourhood, and thither he went without reluctance, as soon as he knew that he was to be troubled no more with his tutor, whom we dismissed. The aunt continued very sullen, and never appeared at table, though Mr Baynard payed his respects to her every day in her own chamber; there also she held conferences with the waitingwomen and other servants of the family: but, the moment her niece was interred, she went away in a postchaise prepared for that purpose: she did not leave the house, however, without giving Mr Baynard to understand, that the wardrobe of her niece was the perquisite of her woman; accordingly that worthless drab received all the clothes, laces, and linen of her deceased mistress, to the value of five hundred pounds, at a moderate computation. The next step I took was to disband that legion of supernumerary domestics, who had preyed so long upon the vitals of my friend:, a parcel of idle drones, so intolerably insolent, that they even treated their own master with the most contemptuous neglect. They had been generally hired by his wife, according to the recommendation of her woman, and these were the only patrons to whom they payed the least deference. I had therefore uncommon satisfaction in clearing the house of these vermin. The woman of the deceased, and a chambermaid, a valet de chambre, a butler, a French cook, a master gardener, two footmen and a coachman, I payed off, and turned out of the house immediately, paying to each a month's wages in lieu of warning. Those whom I retained, consisted of the female cook, who had been assistant to the Frenchman, a house maid, an old lacquey, a postilion, and undergardener. Thus I removed at once a huge mountain of expence and care from the shoulders of my friend, who could hardly believe the evidence of his own senses, when he found himself so suddenly and so effectually relieved. His heart, however, was still subject to vibrations of tenderness, which returned at certain intervals, extorting sighs, and tears, and exclamations of grief and impatience: but these fits grew every day less violent and less frequent, 'till at length his reason obtained a complete victory over the infirmities of his nature. Upon an accurate enquiry into the state of his affairs, I find his debts amount to twenty thousand pounds, for eighteen thousand pounds of which sum his estate is mortgaged; and as he pays five per cent. interest, and some of his farms are unoccupied, he does not receive above two hundred pounds a year clear from his lands, over and above the interest of his wife's fortune, which produced eight hundred pounds annually. For lightening this heavy burthen, I devised the following expedient. His wife's jewels, together with his superfluous plate and furniture in both houses, his horses and carriages, which are already advertised to be sold by auction, will, according to the estimate, produce two thousand five hundred pounds in ready money, with which the debt will be immediately reduced to eighteen thousand poundsI have undertaken to find him ten thousand pounds at four per cent. by which means he will save one hundred ayear in the article of interest, and perhaps we shall be able to borrow the other eight thousand on the same terms. According to his own scheme of a country life, he says he can live comfortably for three hundred pounds ayear; but, as he has a son to educate, we will allow him five hundred; then there will be an accumulating fund of seven hundred ayear, principal and interest, to pay off the incumbrance; and, I think, we may modestly add three hundred, on the presumption of newleasing and improving the vacant farms: so that, in a couple of years, I suppose there will be above a thousand ayear appropriated to liquidate a debt of sixteen thousand. We forthwith began to class and set apart the articles designed for sale, under the direction of an upholder from London; and, that nobody in the house might be idle, commenced our reformation without doors, as well as within. With Baynard's good leave, I ordered the gardener to turn the rivulet into its old channel, to refresh the fainting Naiads, who had so long languished among mouldring roots, withered leaves, and dry pebblesThe shrubbery is condemned to extirpation; and the pleasure ground will be restored to its original use of cornfield and pastureOrders are given for rebuilding the walls of the garden at the back of the house, and for planting clumps of firs, intermingled with beech and chestnut, at the east end, which is now quite exposed to the surly blasts that come from that quarter. All these works being actually begun, and the house and auction left to the care and management of a reputable attorney, I brought Baynard along with me in the chaise, and made him acquainted with Dennison, whose goodness of heart would not fail to engage his esteem and affection.He is indeed charmed with our society in general, and declares that he never saw the theory of true pleasure reduced to practice before. I really believe it would not be an easy task to find such a number of individuals assembled under one roof, more happy than we are at present. I must tell you, however, in confidence, I suspect Tabby of tergiversation.I have been so long accustomed to that original, that I know all the caprices of her heart, and can often perceive her designs while they are yet in embrioShe attached herself to Lismahago for no other reason but that she despaired of making a more agreeable conquest. At present, if I am not much mistaken in my observation, she would gladly convert the widowhood of Baynard to her own advantage.Since he arrived, she has behaved very coldly to the captain, and strove to fasten on the other's heart, with the hooks of overstrained civility. These must be the instinctive efforts of her constitution, rather than the effects of any deliberate design; for matters are carried to such a length with the lieutenant, that she could not retract with any regard to conscience or reputation. Besides, she will meet with nothing but indifference or aversion on the side of Baynard, who has too much sense to think of such a partner at any time, and too much delicacy to admit a thought of any such connexion at the present junctureMeanwhile, I have prevailed upon her to let him have four thousand pounds at four per cent towards paying off his mortage. Young Dennison has agreed that Liddy's fortune shall be appropriated to the same purpose, on the same terms.His father will sell out three thousand pounds stock for his accommodation.Farmer Bland has, at the desire of Wilson, undertaken for two thousand; and I must make an effort to advance what further will be required to take my friend out of the hands of the Philistines. He is so pleased with the improvements made on his estate, which is all cultivated like a garden, that he has entered himself as a pupil in farming to Mr Dennison, and resolved to attach himself wholly to the practice of husbandry. Every thing is now prepared for our double wedding. The marriagearticles for both couples are drawn and executed; and the ceremony only waits until the parties shall have been resident in the parish the term prescribed by law. Young Dennison betrays some symptoms of impatience; but, Lismahago bears this necessary delay with the temper of a philosopher.You must know, the captain does not stand altogether on the foundation of personal merit. Besides his halfpay, amounting to two and forty pounds a year, this indefatigable oeconomist has amassed eight hundred pounds, which he has secured in the funds. This sum arises partly from his pay's running up while he remained among the Indians; partly from what he received as a consideration for the difference between his full appointment and the halfpay, to which he is now restricted; and partly from the profits of a little traffick he drove in peltry, during his sachemship among the Miamis. Liddy's fears and perplexities have been much assuaged by the company of one Miss Willis, who had been her intimate companion at the boardingschool. Her parents had been earnestly sollicited to allow her making this friendly visit on such an extraordinary occasion; and two days ago she arrived with her mother, who did not chuse that she should come without a proper gouvernante. The young lady is very sprightly, handsome, and agreeable, and the mother a mighty good sort of a woman; so that their coming adds considerably to our enjoyment. But we shall have a third couple yoked in the matrimonial chain. Mr Clinker Loyd has made humble remonstrance through the canal of my nephew, setting forth the sincere love and affection mutually subsisting between him and Mrs Winifred Jenkins, and praying my consent to their coming together for life. I would have wished that Mr Clinker had kept out of this scrape; but as the nymph's happiness is at stake, and she has already some fits in the way of despondence, I, in order to prevent any tragical catastrophe, have given him leave to play the fool, in imitation of his betters; and I suppose we shall in time have a whole litter of his progeny at Brambletonhall. The fellow is stout and lusty, very sober and conscientious; and the wench seems to be as great an enthusiast in love as in religion. I wish you would think of employing him some other way, that the parish may not be overstockedyou know he has been bred a farrier, consequently belongs to the faculty; and as he is very docile, I make no doubt but, with your good instruction, he may be, in a little time, qualified to act as a Welch apothecary. Tabby, who never did a favour with a good grace, has consented, with great reluctance, to this match. Perhaps it hurts her pride, as she now considers Clinker in the light of a relation; but, I believe, her objections are of a more selfish nature. She declares she cannot think of retaining the wife of Matthew Loyd in the character of a servant; and she foresees, that on such an occasion the woman will expect some gratification for her past services. As for Clinker, exclusive of other considerations, he is so trusty, brave, affectionate, and alert, and I owe him such personal obligations, that he merits more than all the indulgence that can possibly be shewn him, by Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE Oct. 26. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon. DEAR KNIGHT, The fatal knots are now tied. The comedy is near a close; and the curtain is ready to drop: but, the latter scenes of this act I shall recapitulate in orderAbout a fortnight ago, my uncle made an excursion across the country, and brought hither a particular friend, one Mr Baynard, who has just lost his wife, and was for some time disconsolate, though by all accounts he had much more cause for joy than for sorrow at this event.His countenance, however, clears up apace; and he appears to be a person of rare accomplishments.But, we have received another still more agreeable reinforcement to our company, by the arrival of Miss Willis from Gloucester. She was Liddy's bosom friend at the boardingschool, and being earnestly sollicited to assist at the nuptials, her mother was so obliging as to grant my sister's request, and even to come with her in person. Liddy, accompanied by George Dennison and me, gave them the meeting halfway, and next day conducted them hither in safety. Miss Willis is a charming girl, and, in point of disposition, an agreeable contrast to my sister, who is rather too grave and sentimental for my turn of mind. The other is gay, frank, a little giddy, and always goodhumoured. She has, moreover, a genteel fortune, is well born, and remarkably handsome. Ah Phillips! if these qualities were permanentif her humour would never change, nor her beauties decay, what efforts would I not makeBut these are idle reflectionsmy destiny must one day be fulfilled. At present we pass the time as agreeably as we can.We have got up several farces, which afforded unspeakable entertainment by the effects they produced among the country people, who are admitted to all our exhibitions.Two nights ago, Jack Wilson acquired great applause in Harlequin Skeleton, and Lismahago surprised us all in the character of Pierot.His long lank sides, and strong marked features, were all peculiarly adapted to his part.He appeared with a ludicrous stare, from which he had discharged all meaning: he adopted the impressions of fear and amazement so naturally, that many of the audience were infected by his looks; but when the skeleton held him in chace his horror became most divertingly picturesque, and seemed to endow him with such praeternatural agility as confounded all the spectators. It was a lively representation of Death in pursuit of Consumption, and had such an effect upon the commonalty, that some of them shrieked aloud, and others ran out of the hall in the utmost consternation. This is not the only instance in which the lieutenant has lately excited our wonder. His temper, which had been soured and shrivelled by disappointment and chagrin, is now swelled out, and smoothed like a raisin in plumbporridge. From being reserved and punctilious, he is become easy and obliging. He cracks jokes, laughs and banters, with the most facetious familiarity; and, in a word, enters into all our schemes of merriment and pastimeThe other day his baggage arrived in the waggon from London, contained in two large trunks and a long deal box not unlike a coffin. The trunks were filled with his wardrobe, which he displayed for the entertainment of the company, and he freely owned, that it consisted chiefly of the opima spolia taken in battle. What he selected for his wedding suit, was a tarnished white cloth faced with blue velvet, embroidered with silver; but, he valued himself most upon a tyeperiwig, in which he had made his first appearance as a lawyer above thirty years ago. This machine had been in buckle ever since, and now all the servants in the family were employed to frizz it out for the occasion, which was yesterday celebrated at the parish church. George Dennison and his bride were distinguished by nothing extraordinary in their apparel. His eyes lightened with eagerness and joy, and she trembled with coyness and confusion. My uncle gave her away, and her friend Willis supported her during the ceremony. But my aunt and her paramour took the pas, and formed, indeed, such a pair of originals, as, I believe all England could not parallel. She was dressed in the stile of 1739; and the day being cold, put on a manteel of green velvet laced with gold: but this was taken off by the bridegroom, who threw over her shoulders a fur cloak of American sables, valued at fourscore guineas, a present equally agreeable and unexpected. Thus accoutred, she was led up to the altar by Mr Dennison, who did the office of her father: Lismahago advanced in the military step with his French coat reaching no farther than the middle of his thigh, his campaign wig that surpasses all description, and a languishing leer upon his countenance, in which there seemed to be something arch and ironical. The ring, which he put upon her finger, he had concealed till the moment it was used. He now produced it with an air of selfcomplacency. It was a curious antique, set with rose diamonds: he told us afterwards, it had been in the family two hundred years and was a present from his grandmother. These circumstances agreeably flattered the pride of our aunt Tabitha, which had already found uncommon gratification in the captain's generosity; for he had, in the morning, presented my uncle with a fine bear's skin, and a Spanish fowlingpiece, and me with a case of pistols curiously mounted with silver. At the same time he gave Mrs Jenkins an Indian purse, made of silk grass, containing twenty crown pieces. You must know, this young lady, with the assistance of Mr Loyd, formed the third couple who yesterday sacrificed to Hymen. I wrote to you in my last, that he had recourse to my mediation, which I employed successfully with my uncle; but Mrs Tabitha held out 'till the lovesick Jenkins had two fits of the mother; then she relented, and those two cooing turtles were caged for lifeOur aunt made an effort of generosity in furnishing the bride with her superfluities of clothes and linen, and her example was followed by my sister; nor did Mr Bramble and I neglect her on this occasion. It was, indeed, a day of peaceoffering.Mr Dennison insisted upon Liddy's accepting two bank notes of one hundred pounds each, as pocketmoney; and his lady gave her a diamond necklace of double that value. There was, besides, a mutual exchange of tokens among the individuals of the two families thus happily united. As George Dennison and his partner were judged improper objects of mirth, Jack Wilson had resolved to execute some jokes on Lismahago, and after supper began to ply him with bumpers, when the ladies had retired; but the captain perceiving his drift, begged for quarter, alledging that the adventure, in which he had engaged, was a very serious matter; and that it would be more the part of a good Christian to pray that he might be strengthened, than to impede his endeavours to finish the adventure.He was spared accordingly, and permitted to ascend the nuptial couch with all his senses about him.There he and his consort sat in state, like Saturn and Cybele, while the benediction posset was drank; and a cake being broken over the head of Mrs Tabitha Lismahago, the fragments were distributed among the bystanders, according to the custom of the antient Britons, on the supposition that every person who eat of this hallowed cake, should that night have a vision of the man or woman whom Heaven designed should be his or her wedded mate. The weight of Wilson's waggery fell upon honest Humphry and his spouse, who were bedded in an upper room, with the usual ceremony of throwing the stocking.This being performed, and the company withdrawn, a sort of catterwauling ensued, when Jack found means to introduce a real cat shod with walnutshells, which galloping along the boards, made such a dreadful noise as effectually discomposed our lovers.Winifred screamed aloud, and shrunk under the bedcloathsMr Loyd, believing that Satan was come to buffet him in propria persona, laid aside all carnal thoughts, and began to pray aloud with great fervency.At length, the poor animal, being more afraid than either, leaped into the bed, and meauled with the most piteous exclamation.Loyd, thus informed of the nature of the annoyance, rose and set the door wide open, so that this troublesome visitant retreated with great expedition; then securing himself, by means of a double bolt, from a second intrusion, he was left to enjoy his good fortune without further disturbance. If one may judge from the looks of the parties, they are all very well satisfied with what has passedGeorge Dennison and his wife are too delicate to exhibit any strong marked signs of their mutual satisfaction, but their eyes are sufficiently expressiveMrs Tabitha Lismahago is rather fulsome in signifying her approbation of the captain's love; while his deportment is the very pink of gallantry.He sighs, and ogles, and languishes at this amiable object; he kisses her hand, mutters ejaculations of rapture, and sings tender airs; and, no doubt, laughs internally at her folly in believing him sincere.In order to shew how little his vigour was impaired by the fatigues of the preceding day, he this morning danced a Highland sarabrand over a naked backsword, and leaped so high, that I believe he would make no contemptible figure as a vaulter at Sadler's Wells.Mr Matthew Loyd, when asked how he relished his bargain, throws up his eyes, crying, 'For what we have received, Lord make us thankful: amen.'His helpmate giggles, and holds her hand before her eyes, affecting to be ashamed of having been in bed with a man.Thus all these widgeons enjoy the novelty of their situation; but, perhaps their notes will be changed, when they are better acquainted with the nature of the decoy. As Mrs Willis cannot be persuaded to stay, and Liddy is engaged by promise to accompany her daughter back to Gloucester, I fancy there will be a general migration from hence, and that most of us will spend the Christmas holidays at Bath; in which case, I shall certainly find an opportunity to beat up your quarters.By this time, I suppose, you are sick of alma mater, and even ready to execute that scheme of peregrination, which was last year concerted between you and Your affectionate J. MELFORD Nov. 8. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR DOCTOR, My niece Liddy is now happily settled for life; and captain Lismahago has taken Tabby off my hands; so that I have nothing further to do, but to comfort my friend Baynard, and provide for my son Loyd, who is also fairly joined to Mrs Winifred Jenkins. You are an excellent genius at hints.Dr Arbuthnot was but a type of Dr Lewis in that respect. What you observe of the vestryclerk deserves consideration.I make no doubt but Matthew Loyd is well enough qualified for the office; but, at present, you must find room for him in the house.His incorruptible honesty and indefatigable care will be serviceable in superintending the oeconomy of my farm; tho' I don't mean that he shall interfere with Barns, of whom I have no cause to complain.I am just returned with Baynard, from a second trip to his house, where every thing is regulated to his satisfaction.He could not, however, review the apartments without tears and lamentation, so that he is not yet in a condition to be left alone; therefore I will not part with him till the spring, when he intends to plunge into the avocations of husbandry, which will at once employ and amuse his attention.Charles Dennison has promised to stay with him a fortnight, to set him fairly afloat in his improvements; and Jack Wilson will see him from time to time; besides, he has a few friends in the country, whom his new plan of life will not exclude from his society.In less than a year, I make no doubt, but he will find himself perfectly at ease both in his mind and body, for the one had dangerously affected the other; and I shall enjoy the exquisite pleasure of seeing my friend rescued from misery and contempt. Mrs Willis being determined to return with her daughter, in a few days, to Gloucester, our plan has undergone some alteration. Jery has persuaded his brotherinlaw to carry his wife to Bath; and I believe his parents will accompany him thither.For my part, I have no intention to take that route.It must be something very extraordinary that will induce me to revisit either Bath or London.My sister and her husband, Baynard and I, will take leave of them at Gloucester, and make the best of our way to Brambleton hall, where I desire you will prepare a good chine and turkey for our Christmas dinner.You must also employ your medical skill in defending me from the attacks of the gout, that I may be in good case to receive the rest of our company, who promise to visit us in their return from the Bath.As I have laid in a considerable stock of health, it is to be hoped you will not have much trouble with me in the way of physic, but I intend to work you on the side of exercise.I have got an excellent fowlingpiece from Mr Lismahago, who is a keen sportsman, and we shall take the heath in all weathers.That this scheme of life may be prosecuted the more effectually, I intend to renounce all sedentary amusements, particularly that of writing long letters; a resolution, which, had I taken it sooner, might have saved you the trouble which you have lately taken in reading the tedious epistles of MATT. BRAMBLE NOV. 20. To Mrs GWYLLIM, at Brambletonhall. GOOD MRS GWYLLIM, Heaven, for wise porpuses, hath ordained that I should change my name and citation in life, so that I am not to be considered any more as manager of my brother's family; but as I cannot surrender up my stewardship till I have settled with you and Williams, I desire you will get your accunts ready for inspection, as we are coming home without further delay.My spouse, the captain, being subject to rummaticks, I beg you will take great care to have the blew chamber, up two pair of stairs, well warmed for his reception.Let the sashes be secured, the crevices stopt, the carpets laid, and the beds well tousled.Mrs Loyd, late Jenkins, being married to a relation of the family, cannot remain in the capacity of a sarvant; therefore, I wish you would cast about for some creditable body to be with me in her roomIf she can spin, and is mistress of plainwork, so much the betterbut she must not expect extravagant wageshaving a family of my own, I must be more occumenical than ever. No more at present, but rests Your loving friend, TAB. LISMAHAGO NOV. 20. To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambletonhall. MRS JONES, Providinch hath bin pleased to make great halteration in the pasture of our affairs.We were yesterday three kiple chined, by the grease of God, in the holy bands of mattermoney, and I now subscrive myself Loyd at your sarvice.All the parish allowed that young 'squire Dallison and his bride was a comely pear for to see.As for madam Lashtniheygo, you nose her picklearitiesher head, to be sure, was fintastical; and her spouse had rapt her with a long marokin furze cloak from the land of the selvidges, thof they say it is of immense bally.The captain himself had a huge hassock of air, with three tails, and a tumtawdry coat, boddered with sulfur.Wan said he was a monkeybank; and the ould bottler swore he was the born imich of Titidall.For my part, I says nothing, being as how the captain has done the handsome thing by me.Mr Loyd was dressed in a lite frog, and checket with gould binding; and thof he don't enter in caparison with great folks of quality, yet he has got as good blood in his veins as arrow privat 'squire in the county; and then his pursing is far from contentible.Your humble sarvant had on a plain peagreen tabby sack, with my Runnela cap, ruff toupee, and side curls.They said, I was the very moral of lady Rickmanstone, but not so palethat may well be, for her ladyship is my elder by seven good years and more.Now, Mrs Mary, our satiety is to suppurateMr Millfart goes to Bath along with the Dallisons, and the rest of us push home to Wales, to pass our Chrishmarsh at BrampletonhallAs our apartments is to be the yallow pepper, in the thurd story, pray carry my things thither.Present my cumpliments to Mrs Gwyllim, and I hope she and I will live upon dissent terms of civility.Being, by God's blessing, removed to a higher spear, you'll excuse my being familiar with the lower sarvants of the family; but, as I trust you'll behave respectful, and keep a proper distance, you may always depend upon the good will and purtection of Yours, W. LOYD Nov. 20. FINIS. Transcribed from the 1886 Cassell  Company edition by David Price, email ccx074pglaf.org Picture: Book cover CASSELLS NATIONAL LIBRARY      THE MAN OF FEELING BY HENRY MACKENZIE. Picture: Decorative graphic CASSELL  COMPANY, LIMITED: LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK  MELBOURNE. 1886. EDITORS INTRODUCTION HENRY MACKENZIE, the son of an Edinburgh physician, was born in August, 1745. After education in the University of Edinburgh he went to London in 1765, at the age of twenty, for law studies, returned to Edinburgh, and became Crown Attorney in the Scottish Court of Exchequer. When Mackenzie was in London, Sternes Tristram Shandy was in course of publication. The first two volumes had appeared in 1759, and the ninth appeared in 1767, followed in 1768, the year of Sternes death, by The Sentimental Journey. Young Mackenzie had a strong bent towards literature, and while studying law in London, he read Sterne, and falling in with the tone of sentiment which Sterne himself caught from the spirit of the time and the example of Rousseau, he wrote The Man of Feeling. This book was published, without authors name, in 1771. It was so popular that a young clergyman made a copy of it popular with imagined passages of erasure and correction, on the strength of which he claimed to be its author, and obliged Henry Mackenzie to declare himself. In 1773 Mackenzie published a second novel, The Man of the World, and in 1777 a third, Julia de Roubign. An essayreading society in Edinburgh, of which he was a leader, started in January, 1779, a weekly paper called The Mirror, which he edited until May, 1780. Its writers afterwards joined in producing The Lounger, which lasted from February, 1785, to January, 1787. Henry Mackenzie contributed fortytwo papers to The Mirror and fiftyseven to The Lounger. When the Royal Society of Edinburgh was founded Henry Mackenzie was active as one of its first members. He was also one of the founders of the Highland Society. Although his Man of Feeling was a serious reflection of the false sentiment of the Revolution, Mackenzie joined afterwards in writing tracts to dissuade the people from faith in the doctrines of the Revolutionists. Mackenzie wrote also a tragedy, The Prince of Tunis, which was acted with success at Edinburgh, and a comedy, The White Hypocrite, which was acted once only at Covent garden. He died at the age of eightysix, on the 13th June, 1831, having for many years been regarded as an elder friend of their own craft by the men of letters who in his days gave dignity to Edinburgh society, and caused the town to be called the Modern Athens. A man of refined taste, who caught the tone of the French sentiment of his time, has, of course, pleased French critics, and has been translated into French. The Man of Feeling begins with imitation of Sterne, and proceeds in due course through so many tears that it is hardly to be called a dry book. As guide to persons of a calculating disposition who may read these pages I append an index to the Tears shed in The Man of Feeling. INDEX TO TEARS. (Chokings, c., not counted.) PAGE Odds but should have wept xiii Tear, given, cordial drop repeated 17 ,, like Cestus of Cytherea 26 ,, one on a cheek 30 I will not weep 31 Tears add energy to benediction 31 ,, tribute of some 52  blessings on 52 I would weep too 52 Not an unmoistened eye 53 Do you weep again? 53 Hand bathed with tears 53 Tears, burst into 54  sobbing and shedding 74 ,, burst into 75 ,, virtue in these 75  he wept at the recollection of her 80 ,, glister of newwashed 81 Sweet girl (here she wept) 94 I could only weep 95 Tears, saw his 97 ,, burst into 99  wrung from the heart 99 ,, feet bathed with 100 ,, mingled, i.e., his with hers 100  voice lost in 108 Eye met with a tear 108 Tear stood in eye 127 Tears, face bathed with 130 Dropped one tear, no more 131 Tears, pressgang could scarce keep from 136 Big drops wetted gray beard 137 Tears, shower of 138 ,, scarce forcedblubbered like a boy 139 Moistened eye 141 Tears choked utterance 144 I have wept many a time 144 Girl wept, brother sobbed 145 Harley kissed off her tears as they flowed, and wept between 145 every kiss Tears flowing down cheeks 148 ,, gushed afresh 148 Beamy moisture 154 A tear dropped 165 Tear in her eye, the sick man kissed it off in its bud, 176 smiling through the dimness of his own Hand wet by tear just fallen 185 Tears flowing without control 187 Cheek wiped (at the end of the last chapter) 189 AUTHORS INTRODUCTION MY dog had made a point on a piece of fallowground, and led the curate and me two or three hundred yards over that and some stubble adjoining, in a breathless state of expectation, on a burning first of September. It was a false point, and our labour was vain: yet, to do Rover justice (for hes an excellent dog, though I have lost his pedigree), the fault was none of his, the birds were gone: the curate showed me the spot where they had lain basking, at the root of an old hedge. I stopped and cried Hem! The curate is fatter than I; he wiped the sweat from his brow. There is no state where one is apter to pause and look round one, than after such a disappointment. It is even so in life. When we have been hurrying on, impelled by some warm wish or other, looking neither to the right hand nor to the leftwe find of a sudden that all our gay hopes are flown; and the only slender consolation that some friend can give us, is to point where they were once to be found. And lo! if we are not of that combustible race, who will rather beat their heads in spite, than wipe their brows with the curate, we look round and say, with the nauseated listlessness of the king of Israel, All is vanity and vexation of spirit. I looked round with some such grave apophthegm in my mind when I discovered, for the first time, a venerable pile, to which the enclosure belonged. An air of melancholy hung about it. There was a languid stillness in the day, and a single crow, that perched on an old tree by the side of the gate, seemed to delight in the echo of its own croaking. I leaned on my gun and looked; but I had not breath enough to ask the curate a question. I observed carving on the bark of some of the trees: twas indeed the only mark of human art about the place, except that some branches appeared to have been lopped, to give a view of the cascade, which was formed by a little rill at some distance. Just at that instant I saw pass between the trees a young lady with a book in her hand. I stood upon a stone to observe her; but the curate sat him down on the grass, and leaning his back where I stood, told me, That was the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman of the name of WALTON, whom he had seen walking there more than once. Some time ago, he said, one HARLEY lived there, a whimsical sort of man I am told, but I was not then in the cure; though, if I had a turn for those things, I might know a good deal of his history, for the greatest part of it is still in my possession. His history! said I. Nay, you may call it what you please, said the curate; for indeed it is no more a history than it is a sermon. The way I came by it was this: some time ago, a grave, oddish kind of a man boarded at a farmers in this parish: the country people called him The Ghost; and he was known by the slouch in his gait, and the length of his stride. I was but little acquainted with him, for he never frequented any of the clubs hereabouts. Yet for all he used to walk anights, he was as gentle as a lamb at times; for I have seen him playing at teetotum with the children, on the great stone at the door of our churchyard. Soon after I was made curate, he left the parish, and went nobody knows whither; and in his room was found a bundle of papers, which was brought to me by his landlord. I began to read them, but I soon grew weary of the task; for, besides that the hand is intolerably bad, I could never find the author in one strain for two chapters together; and I dont believe theres a single syllogism from beginning to end. I should be glad to see this medley, said I. You shall see it now, answered the curate, for I always take it along with me ashooting. How came it so torn? Tis excellent wadding, said the curate.This was a plea of expediency I was not in a condition to answer; for I had actually in my pocket great part of an edition of one of the German Illustrissimi, for the very same purpose. We exchanged books; and by that means (for the curate was a strenuous logician) we probably saved both. When I returned to town, I had leisure to peruse the acquisition I had made: I found it a bundle of little episodes, put together without art, and of no importance on the whole, with something of nature, and little else in them. I was a good deal affected with some very trifling passages in it; and had the name of Marmontel, or a Richardson, been on the titlepagetis odds that I should have wept: But One is ashamed to be pleased with the works of one knows not whom. CHAPTER XI. 15 ON BASHFULNESS.A CHARACTER.HIS OPINION ON THAT SUBJECT. THERE is some rust about every man at the beginning; though in some nations (among the French for instance) the ideas of the inhabitants, from climate, or what other cause you will, are so vivacious, so eternally on the wing, that they must, even in small societies, have a frequent collision; the rust therefore will wear off sooner: but in Britain it often goes with a man to his grave; nay, he dares not even pen a hic jacet to speak out for him after his death. Let them rub it off by travel, said the baronets brother, who was a striking instance of excellent metal, shamefully rusted. I had drawn my chair near his. Let me paint the honest old man: tis but one passing sentence to preserve his image in my mind. He sat in his usual attitude, with his elbow rested on his knee, and his fingers pressed on his cheek. His face was shaded by his hand; yet it was a face that might once have been well accounted handsome; its features were manly and striking, a dignity resided on his eyebrows, which were the largest I remember to have seen. His person was tall and wellmade; but the indolence of his nature had now inclined it to corpulency. His remarks were few, and made only to his familiar friends; but they were such as the world might have heard with veneration: and his heart, uncorrupted by its ways, was ever warm in the cause of virtue and his friends. He is now forgotten and gone! The last time I was at Silton Hall, I saw his chair stand in its corner by the fireside; there was an additional cushion on it, and it was occupied by my young ladys favourite lap dog. I drew near unperceived, and pinched its ears in the bitterness of my soul; the creature howled, and ran to its mistress. She did not suspect the author of its misfortune, but she bewailed it in the most pathetic terms; and kissing its lips, laid it gently on her lap, and covered it with a cambric handkerchief. I sat in my old friends seat; I heard the roar of mirth and gaiety around me: poor Ben Silton! I gave thee a tear then: accept of one cordial drop that falls to thy memory now. They should wear it off by travel.Why, it is true, said I, that will go far; but then it will often happen, that in the velocity of a modern tour, and amidst the materials through which it is commonly made, the friction is so violent, that not only the rust, but the metal too, is lost in the progress. Give me leave to correct the expression of your metaphor, said Mr. Silton: that is not always rust which is acquired by the inactivity of the body on which it preys; such, perhaps, is the case with me, though indeed I was never cleared from my youth; but (taking it in its first stage) it is rather an encrustation, which nature has given for purposes of the greatest wisdom. You are right, I returned; and sometimes, like certain precious fossils, there may be hid under it gems of the purest brilliancy. Nay, farther, continued Mr. Silton, there are two distinct sorts of what we call bashfulness; this, the awkwardness of a booby, which a few steps into the world will convert into the pertness of a coxcomb; that, a consciousness, which the most delicate feelings produce, and the most extensive knowledge cannot always remove. From the incidents I have already related, I imagine it will be concluded that Harley was of the latter species of bashful animals; at least, if Mr. Siltons principle is just, it may be argued on this side; for the gradation of the first mentioned sort, it is certain, he never attained. Some part of his external appearance was modelled from the company of those gentlemen, whom the antiquity of a family, now possessed of bare 250 a year, entitled its representative to approach: these indeed were not many; great part of the property in his neighbourhood being in the hands of merchants, who had got rich by their lawful calling abroad, and the sons of stewards, who had got rich by their lawful calling at home: persons so perfectly versed in the ceremonial of thousands, tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands (whose degrees of precedency are plainly demonstrable from the first page of the Complete Accomptant, or Young Mans Best Pocket Companion) that a bow at church from them to such a man as Harley would have made the parson look back into his sermon for some precept of Christian humility. CHAPTER XII. OF WORLDLY INTERESTS. THERE are certain interests which the world supposes every man to have, and which therefore are properly enough termed worldly; but the world is apt to make an erroneous estimate: ignorant of the dispositions which constitute our happiness or misery, they bring to an undistinguished scale the means of the one, as connected with power, wealth, or grandeur, and of the other with their contraries. Philosophers and poets have often protested against this decision; but their arguments have been despised as declamatory, or ridiculed as romantic. There are never wanting to a young man some grave and prudent friends to set him right in this particular, if he need it; to watch his ideas as they arise, and point them to those objects which a wise man should never forget. Harley did not want for some monitors of this sort. He was frequently told of men whose fortunes enabled them to command all the luxuries of life, whose fortunes were of their own acquirement: his envy was invited by a description of their happiness, and his emulation by a recital of the means which had procured it. Harley was apt to hear those lectures with indifference; nay, sometimes they got the better of his temper; and as the instances were not always amiable, provoked, on his part, some reflections, which I am persuaded his goodnature would else have avoided. Indeed, I have observed one ingredient, somewhat necessary in a mans composition towards happiness, which people of feeling would do well to acquire; a certain respect for the follies of mankind: for there are so many fools whom the opinion of the world entitles to regard, whom accident has placed in heights of which they are unworthy, that he who cannot restrain his contempt or indignation at the sight will be too often quarrelling with the disposal of things to relish that share which is allotted to himself. I do not mean, however, to insinuate this to have been the case with Harley; on the contrary, if we might rely on his own testimony, the conceptions he had of pomp and grandeur served to endear the state which Providence had assigned him. He lost his father, the last surviving of his parents, as I have already related, when he was a boy. The good man, from a fear of offending, as well as a regard to his son, had named him a variety of guardians; one consequence of which was, that they seldom met at all to consider the affairs of their ward; and when they did meet, their opinions were so opposite, that the only possible method of conciliation was the mediatory power of a dinner and a bottle, which commonly interrupted, not ended, the dispute; and after that interruption ceased, left the consulting parties in a condition not very proper for adjusting it. His education therefore had been but indifferently attended to; and after being taken from a country school, at which he had been boarded, the young gentleman was suffered to be his own master in the subsequent branches of literature, with some assistance from the parson of the parish in languages and philosophy, and from the exciseman in arithmetic and bookkeeping. One of his guardians, indeed, who, in his youth, had been an inhabitant of the Temple, set him to read Coke upon Lyttelton: a book which is very properly put into the hands of beginners in that science, as its simplicity is accommodated to their understandings, and its size to their inclination. He profited but little by the perusal; but it was not without its use in the family: for his maiden aunt applied it commonly to the laudable purpose of pressing her rebellious linens to the folds she had allotted them. There were particularly two ways of increasing his fortune, which might have occurred to people of less foresight than the counsellors we have mentioned. One of these was, the prospect of his succeeding to an old lady, a distant relation, who was known to be possessed of a very large sum in the stocks: but in this their hopes were disappointed; for the young man was so untoward in his disposition, that, notwithstanding the instructions he daily received, his visits rather tended to alienate than gain the goodwill of his kinswoman. He sometimes looked grave when the old lady told the jokes of her youth; he often refused to eat when she pressed him, and was seldom or never provided with sugarcandy or liquorice when she was seized with a fit of coughing: nay, he had once the rudeness to fall asleep while she was describing the composition and virtues of her favourite cholicwater. In short, be accommodated himself so ill to her humour, that she died, and did not leave him a farthing. The other method pointed out to him was an endeavour to get a lease of some crownlands, which lay contiguous to his little paternal estate. This, it was imagined, might be easily procured, as the crown did not draw so much rent as Harley could afford to give, with very considerable profit to himself; and the then lessee had rendered himself so obnoxious to the ministry, by the disposal of his vote at an election, that he could not expect a renewal. This, however, needed some interest with the great, which Harley or his father never possessed. His neighbour, Mr. Walton, having heard of this affair, generously offered his assistance to accomplish it. He told him, that though he had long been a stranger to courtiers, yet he believed there were some of them who might pay regard to his recommendation; and that, if he thought it worth the while to take a London journey upon the business, he would furnish him with a letter of introduction to a baronet of his acquaintance, who had a great deal to say with the first lord of the treasury. When his friends heard of this offer, they pressed him with the utmost earnestness to accept of it. They did not fail to enumerate the many advantages which a certain degree of spirit and assurance gives a man who would make a figure in the world: they repeated their instances of good fortune in others, ascribed them all to a happy forwardness of disposition; and made so copious a recital of the disadvantages which attend the opposite weakness, that a stranger, who had heard them, would have been led to imagine, that in the British code there was some disqualifying statute against any citizen who should be convicted ofmodesty. Harley, though he had no great relish for the attempt, yet could not resist the torrent of motives that assaulted him; and as he needed but little preparation for his journey, a day, not very distant, was fixed for his departure. CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN OF FEELING IN LOVE. THE day before that on which he set out, he went to take leave of Mr. Walton.We would conceal nothing;there was another person of the family to whom also the visit was intended, on whose account, perhaps, there were some tenderer feelings in the bosom of Harley than his gratitude for the friendly notice of that gentleman (though he was seldom deficient in that virtue) could inspire. Mr. Walton had a daughter; and such a daughter! we will attempt some description of her by and by. Harleys notions of the , or beautiful, were not always to be defined, nor indeed such as the world would always assent to, though we could define them. A blush, a phrase of affability to an inferior, a tear at a moving tale, were to him, like the Cestus of Cytherea, unequalled in conferring beauty. For all these Miss Walton was remarkable; but as these, like the abovementioned Cestus, are perhaps still more powerful when the wearer is possessed of some degree of beauty, commonly so called, it happened, that, from this cause, they had more than usual power in the person of that young lady. She was now arrived at that period of life which takes, or is supposed to take, from the flippancy of girlhood those sprightlinesses with which some goodnatured old maids oblige the world at threescore. She had been ushered into life (as that word is used in the dialect of St. Jamess) at seventeen, her father being then in parliament, and living in London: at seventeen, therefore, she had been a universal toast; her health, now she was fourandtwenty, was only drank by those who knew her face at least. Her complexion was mellowed into a paleness, which certainly took from her beauty; but agreed, at least Harley used to say so, with the pensive softness of her mind. Her eyes were of that gentle hazel colour which is rather mild than piercing; and, except when they were lighted up by goodhumour, which was frequently the case, were supposed by the fine gentlemen to want fire. Her air and manner were elegant in the highest degree, and were as sure of commanding respect as their mistress was far from demanding it. Her voice was inexpressibly soft; it was, according to that incomparable simile of Otways, like the shepherds pipe upon the mountains, When all his little flocks at feed before him. The effect it had upon Harley, himself used to paint ridiculously enough; and ascribed it to powers, which few believed, and nobody cared for. Her conversation was always cheerful, but rarely witty; and without the smallest affectation of learning, had as much sentiment in it as would have puzzled a Turk, upon his principles of female materialism, to account for. Her beneficence was unbounded; indeed the natural tenderness of her heart might have been argued, by the frigidity of a casuist, as detracting from her virtue in this respect, for her humanity was a feeling, not a principle: but minds like Harleys are not very apt to make this distinction, and generally give our virtue credit for all that benevolence which is instinctive in our nature. As her father had some years retired to the country, Harley had frequent opportunities of seeing her. He looked on her for some time merely with that respect and admiration which her appearance seemed to demand, and the opinion of others conferred upon her from this cause, perhaps, and from that extreme sensibility of which we have taken frequent notice, Harley was remarkably silent in her presence. He heard her sentiments with peculiar attention, sometimes with looks very expressive of approbation; but seldom declared his opinion on the subject, much less made compliments to the lady on the justness of her remarks. From this very reason it was that Miss Walton frequently took more particular notice of him than of other visitors, who, by the laws of precedency, were better entitled to it: it was a mode of politeness she had peculiarly studied, to bring to the line of that equality, which is ever necessary for the ease of our guests, those whose sensibility had placed them below it. Harley saw this; for though he was a child in the drama of the world, yet was it not altogether owing to a want of knowledge on his part; on the contrary, the most delicate consciousness of propriety often kindled that blush which marred the performance of it: this raised his esteem something above what the most sanguine descriptions of her goodness had been able to do; for certain it is, that notwithstanding the laboured definitions which very wise men have given us of the inherent beauty of virtue, we are always inclined to think her handsomest when she condescends to smile upon ourselves. It would be trite to observe the easy gradation from esteem to love: in the bosom of Harley there scarce needed a transition; for there were certain seasons when his ideas were flushed to a degree much above their common complexion. In times not credulous of inspiration, we should account for this from some natural cause; but we do not mean to account for it at all; it were sufficient to describe its effects; but they were sometimes so ludicrous, as might derogate from the dignity of the sensations which produced them to describe. They were treated indeed as such by most of Harleys sober friends, who often laughed very heartily at the awkward blunders of the real Harley, when the different faculties, which should have prevented them, were entirely occupied by the ideal. In some of these paroxysms of fancy, Miss Walton did not fail to be introduced; and the picture which had been drawn amidst the surrounding objects of unnoticed levity was now singled out to be viewed through the medium of romantic imagination: it was improved of course, and esteem was a word inexpressive of the feelings which it excited. CHAPTER XIV. HE SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEYTHE BEGGAR AND HIS DOG. HE had taken leave of his aunt on the eve of his intended departure; but the good ladys affection for her nephew interrupted her sleep, and early as it was next morning when Harley came downstairs to set out, he found her in the parlour with a tear on her cheek, and her caudlecup in her hand. She knew enough of physic to prescribe against going abroad of a morning with an empty stomach. She gave her blessing with the draught; her instructions she had delivered the night before. They consisted mostly of negatives, for London, in her idea, was so replete with temptations that it needed the whole armour of her friendly cautions to repel their attacks. Peter stood at the door. We have mentioned this faithful fellow formerly: Harleys father had taken him up an orphan, and saved him from being cast on the parish; and he had ever since remained in the service of him and of his son. Harley shook him by the hand as he passed, smiling, as if he had said, I will not weep. He sprung hastily into the chaise that waited for him; Peter folded up the step. My dear master, said he, shaking the solitary lock that hung on either side of his head, I have been told as how London is a sad place. He was choked with the thought, and his benediction could not be heard:but it shall be heard, honest Peter! where these tears will add to its energy. In a few hours Harley reached the inn where he proposed breakfasting, but the fulness of his heart would not suffer him to eat a morsel. He walked out on the road, and gaining a little height, stood gazing on that quarter he had left. He looked for his wonted prospect, his fields, his woods, and his hills: they were lost in the distant clouds! He pencilled them on the clouds, and bade them farewell with a sigh! He sat down on a large stone to take out a little pebble from his shoe, when he saw, at some distance, a beggar approaching him. He had on a loose sort of coat, mended with differentcoloured rags, amongst which the blue and the russet were the predominant. He had a short knotty stick in his hand, and on the top of it was stuck a rams horn; his knees (though he was no pilgrim) had worn the stuff of his breeches; he wore no shoes, and his stockings had entirely lost that part of them which should have covered his feet and ankles; in his face, however, was the plump appearance of good humour; he walked a good round pace, and a crooklegged dog trotted at his heels. Our delicacies, said Harley to himself, are fantastic; they are not in nature! that beggar walks over the sharpest of these stones barefooted, whilst I have lost the most delightful dream in the world, from the smallest of them happening to get into my shoe. The beggar had by this time come up, and, pulling off a piece of hat, asked charity of Harley; the dog began to beg too:it was impossible to resist both; and, in truth, the want of shoes and stockings had made both unnecessary, for Harley had destined sixpence for him before. The beggar, on receiving it, poured forth blessings without number; and, with a sort of smile on his countenance, said to Harley that if he wanted to have his fortune toldHarley turned his eye briskly on the beggar: it was an unpromising look for the subject of a prediction, and silenced the prophet immediately. I would much rather learn, said Harley, what it is in your power to tell me: your trade must be an entertaining one; sit down on this stone, and let me know something of your profession; I have often thought of turning fortuneteller for a week or two myself. Master, replied the beggar, I like your frankness much; God knows I had the humour of plaindealing in me from a child, but there is no doing with it in this world; we must live as we can, and lying is, as you call it, my profession, but I was in some sort forced to the trade, for I dealt once in telling truth. I was a labourer, sir, and gained as much as to make me live: I never laid by indeed: for I was reckoned a piece of a wag, and your wags, I take it, are seldom rich, Mr. Harley. So, said Harley, you seem to know me. Ay, there are few folks in the country that I dont know something of: how should I tell fortunes else? True; but to go on with your story: you were a labourer, you say, and a wag; your industry, I suppose, you left with your old trade, but your humour you preserve to be of use to you in your new. What signifies sadness, sir? a man grows lean ont: but I was brought to my idleness by degrees; first I could not work, and it went against my stomach to work ever after. I was seized with a jail fever at the time of the assizes being in the county where I lived; for I was always curious to get acquainted with the felons, because they are commonly fellows of much mirth and little thought, qualities I had ever an esteem for. In the height of this fever, Mr. Harley, the house where I lay took fire, and burnt to the ground; I was carried out in that condition, and lay all the rest of my illness in a barn. I got the better of my disease, however, but I was so weak that I spit blood whenever I attempted to work. I had no relation living that I knew of, and I never kept a friend above a week, when I was able to joke; I seldom remained above six months in a parish, so that I might have died before I had found a settlement in any: thus I was forced to beg my bread, and a sorry trade I found it, Mr. Harley. I told all my misfortunes truly, but they were seldom believed; and the few who gave me a halfpenny as they passed did it with a shake of the head, and an injunction not to trouble them with a long story. In short, I found that people dont care to give alms without some security for their money; a wooden leg or a withered arm is a sort of draught upon heaven for those who choose to have their money placed to account there; so I changed my plan, and, instead of telling my own misfortunes, began to prophesy happiness to others. This I found by much the better way: folks will always listen when the tale is their own, and of many who say they do not believe in fortunetelling, I have known few on whom it had not a very sensible effect. I pick up the names of their acquaintance; amours and little squabbles are easily gleaned among servants and neighbours; and indeed people themselves are the best intelligencers in the world for our purpose: they dare not puzzle us for their own sakes, for every one is anxious to hear what they wish to believe, and they who repeat it, to laugh at it when they have done, are generally more serious than their hearers are apt to imagine. With a tolerable good memory, and some share of cunning, with the help of walking anights over heaths and churchyards, with this, and showing the tricks of that there dog, whom I stole from the serjeant of a marching regiment (and by the way, he can steal too upon occasion), I make shift to pick up a livelihood. My trade, indeed, is none of the honestest; yet people are not much cheated neither who give a few halfpence for a prospect of happiness, which I have heard some persons say is all a man can arrive at in this world. But I must bid you good day, sir, for I have three miles to walk before noon, to inform some boardingschool young ladies whether their husbands are to be peers of the realm or captains in the army: a question which I promised to answer them by that time. Harley had drawn a shilling from his pocket; but Virtue bade him consider on whom he was going to bestow it. Virtue held back his arm; but a milder form, a younger sister of Virtues, not so severe as Virtue, nor so serious as Pity, smiled upon him; his fingers lost their compression, nor did Virtue offer to catch the money as it fell. It had no sooner reached the ground than the watchful cur (a trick he had been taught) snapped it up, and, contrary to the most approved method of stewardship, delivered it immediately into the hands of his master. CHAPTER XIX. HE MAKES A SECOND EXPEDITION TO THE BARONETS. THE LAUDABLE AMBITION OF A YOUNG MAN TO BE THOUGHT SOMETHING BY THE WORLD. WE have related, in a former chapter, the little success of his first visit to the great man, for whom he had the introductory letter from Mr. Walton. To people of equal sensibility, the influence of those trifles we mentioned on his deportment will not appear surprising, but to his friends in the country they could not be stated, nor would they have allowed them any place in the account. In some of their letters, therefore, which he received soon after, they expressed their surprise at his not having been more urgent in his application, and again recommended the blushless assiduity of successful merit. He resolved to make another attempt at the baronets; fortified with higher notions of his own dignity, and with less apprehension of repulse. In his way to Grosvenor Square he began to ruminate on the folly of mankind, who affixed those ideas of superiority to riches, which reduced the minds of men, by nature equal with the more fortunate, to that sort of servility which he felt in his own. By the time he had reached the Square, and was walking along the pavement which led to the baronets, he had brought his reasoning on the subject to such a point, that the conclusion, by every rule of logic, should have led him to a thorough indifference in his approaches to a fellowmortal, whether that fellowmortal was possessed of six or six thousand pounds a year. It is probable, however, that the premises had been improperly formed: for it is certain, that when he approached the great mans door he felt his heart agitated by an unusual pulsation. He had almost reached it, when he observed among gentleman coming out, dressed in a white frock and a red laced waistcoat, with a small switch in his hand, which he seemed to manage with a particular good grace. As he passed him on the steps, the stranger very politely made him a bow, which Harley returned, though he could not remember ever having seen him before. He asked Harley, in the same civil manner, if he was going to wait on his friend the baronet. For I was just calling, said he, and am sorry to find that he is gone for some days into the country. Harley thanked him for his information, and was turning from the door, when the other observed that it would be proper to leave his name, and very obligingly knocked for that purpose. Here is a gentleman, Tom, who meant to have waited on your master. Your name, if you please, sir? Harley. Youll remember, Tom, Harley. The door was shut. Since we are here, said he, we shall not lose our walk if we add a little to it by a turn or two in Hyde Park. He accompanied this proposal with a second bow, and Harley accepted of it by another in return. The conversation, as they walked, was brilliant on the side of his companion. The playhouse, the opera, with every occurrence in high life, he seemed perfectly master of; and talked of some reigning beauties of quality in a manner the most feeling in the world. Harley admired the happiness of his vivacity, and, opposite as it was to the reserve of his own nature, began to be much pleased with its effects. Though I am not of opinion with some wise men, that the existence of objects depends on idea, yet I am convinced that their appearance is not a little influenced by it. The optics of some minds are in so unlucky a perspective as to throw a certain shade on every picture that is presented to them, while those of others (of which number was Harley), like the mirrors of the ladies, have a wonderful effect in bettering their complexions. Through such a medium perhaps he was looking on his present companion. When they had finished their walk, and were returning by the corner of the Park, they observed a board hung out of a window signifying, An excellent ORDINARY on Saturdays and Sundays. It happened to be Saturday, and the table was covered for the purpose. What if we should go in and dine here, if you happen not to be engaged, sir? said the young gentleman. It is not impossible but we shall meet with some original or other; it is a sort of humour I like hugely. Harley made no objection, and the stranger showed him the way into the parlour. He was placed, by the courtesy of his introductor, in an armchair that stood at one side of the fire. Over against him was seated a man of a grave considering aspect, with that look of sober prudence which indicates what is commonly called a warm man. He wore a pretty large wig, which had once been white, but was now of a brownish yellow; his coat was one of those modestcoloured drabs which mock the injuries of dust and dirt; two jackboots concealed, in part, the wellmended knees of an old pair of buckskin breeches; while the spotted handkerchief round his neck preserved at once its owner from catching cold and his neckcloth from being dirtied. Next him sat another man, with a tankard in his hand and a quid of tobacco in his cheek, whose eye was rather more vivacious, and whose dress was something smarter. The firstmentioned gentleman took notice that the room had been so lately washed, as not to have had time to dry, and remarked that wet lodging was unwholesome for man or beast. He looked round at the same time for a poker to stir the fire with, which, he at last observed to the company, the people of the house had removed in order to save their coals. This difficulty, however, he overcame by the help of Harleys stick, saying, that as they should, no doubt, pay for their fire in some shape or other, he saw no reason why they should not have the use of it while they sat. The door was now opened for the admission of dinner. I dont know how it is with you, gentlemen, said Harleys new acquaintance, but I am afraid I shall not be able to get down a morsel at this horrid mechanical hour of dining. He sat down, however, and did not show any want of appetite by his eating. He took upon him the carving of the meat, and criticised on the goodness of the pudding. When the tablecloth was removed, he proposed calling for some punch, which was readily agreed to; he seemed at first inclined to make it himself, but afterwards changed his mind, and left that province to the waiter, telling him to have it pure West Indian, or he could not taste a drop of it. When the punch was brought he undertook to fill the glasses and call the toasts. The King.The toast naturally produced politics. It is the privilege of Englishmen to drink the kings health, and to talk of his conduct. The man who sat opposite to Harley (and who by this time, partly from himself, and partly from his acquaintance on his left hand, was discovered to be a grazier) observed, That it was a shame for so many pensioners to be allowed to take the bread out of the mouth of the poor. Ay, and provisions, said his friend, were never so dear in the memory of man; I wish the king and his counsellors would look to that. As for the matter of provisions, neighbour Wrightson, he replied, I am sure the prices of cattle A dispute would have probably ensued, but it was prevented by the spruce toastmaster, who gave a sentiment, and turning to the two politicians, Pray, gentlemen, said he, let us have done with these musty politics: I would always leave them to the beersuckers in Butcher Row. Come, let us have something of the fine arts. That was a damnd hard match between Joe the Nailor and Tim Bucket. The knowing ones were cursedly taken in there! I lost a cool hundred myself, faith. At mention of the cool hundred, the grazier threw his eyes aslant, with a mingled look of doubt and surprise; while the man at his elbow looked arch, and gave a short emphatical sort of cough. Both seemed to be silenced, however, by this intelligence; and while the remainder of the punch lasted the conversation was wholly engrossed by the gentleman with the fine waistcoat, who told a great many immense comical stories and confounded smart things, as he termed them, acted and spoken by lords, ladies, and young bucks of quality, of his acquaintance. At last, the grazier, pulling out a watch, of a very unusual size, and telling the hour, said that he had an appointment. Is it so late? said the young gentleman; then I am afraid I have missed an appointment already; but the truth is, I am cursedly given to missing of appointments. When the grazier and he were gone, Harley turned to the remaining personage, and asked him if he knew that young gentleman. A gentleman! said he; ay, he is one of your gentlemen at the top of an affidavit. I knew him, some years ago, in the quality of a footman; and I believe he had some times the honour to be a pimp. At last, some of the great folks, to whom he had been serviceable in both capacities, had him made a gauger; in which station he remains, and has the assurance to pretend an acquaintance with men of quality. The impudent dog! with a few shillings in his pocket, he will talk you three times as much as my friend Mundy there, who is worth nine thousand if hes worth a farthing. But I know the rascal, and despise him, as he deserves. Harley began to despise him too, and to conceive some indignation at having sat with patience to hear such a fellow speak nonsense. But he corrected himself by reflecting that he was perhaps as well entertained, and instructed too, by this same modest gauger, as he should have been by such a man as he had thought proper to personate. And surely the fault may more properly be imputed to that rank where the futility is real than where it is feigned: to that rank whose opportunities for nobler accomplishments have only served to rear a fabric of folly which the untutored hand of affectation, even among the meanest of mankind, can imitate with success. CHAPTER XX. HE VISITS BEDLAM.THE DISTRESSES OF A DAUGHTER. Of those things called Sights in London, which every stranger is supposed desirous to see, Bedlam is one. To that place, therefore, an acquaintance of Harleys, after having accompanied him to several other shows, proposed a visit. Harley objected to it, because, said he, I think it an inhuman practice to expose the greatest misery with which our nature is afflicted to every idle visitant who can afford a trifling perquisite to the keeper; especially as it is a distress which the humane must see, with the painful reflection, that it is not in their power to alleviate it. He was overpowered, however, by the solicitations of his friend and the other persons of the party (amongst whom were several ladies); and they went in a body to Moorfields. Their conductor led them first to the dismal mansions of those who are in the most horrid state of incurable madness. The clanking of chains, the wildness of their cries, and the imprecations which some of them uttered, formed a scene inexpressibly shocking. Harley and his companions, especially the female part of them, begged their guide to return; he seemed surprised at their uneasiness, and was with difficulty prevailed on to leave that part of the house without showing them some others: who, as he expressed it in the phrase of those that keep wild beasts for show, were much better worth seeing than any they had passed, being ten times more fierce and unmanageable. He led them next to that quarter where those reside who, as they are not dangerous to themselves or others, enjoy a certain degree of freedom, according to the state of their distemper. Harley had fallen behind his companions, looking at a man who was making pendulums with bits of thread and little balls of clay. He had delineated a segment of a circle on the wall with chalk, and marked their different vibrations by intersecting it with cross lines. A decentlooking man came up, and smiling at the maniac, turned to Harley, and told him that gentleman had once been a very celebrated mathematician. He fell a sacrifice, said he, to the theory of comets; for having, with infinite labour, formed a table on the conjectures of Sir Isaac Newton, he was disappointed in the return of one of those luminaries, and was very soon after obliged to be placed here by his friends. If you please to follow me, sir, continued the stranger, I believe I shall be able to give you a more satisfactory account of the unfortunate people you see here than the man who attends your companions. Harley bowed, and accepted his offer. The next person they came up to had scrawled a variety of figures on a piece of slate. Harley had the curiosity to take a nearer view of them. They consisted of different columns, on the top of which were marked Southsea annuities, Indiastock, and Three per cent. annuities consol. This, said Harleys instructor, was a gentleman well known in Change Alley. He was once worth fifty thousand pounds, and had actually agreed for the purchase of an estate in the West, in order to realise his money; but he quarrelled with the proprietor about the repairs of the garden wall, and so returned to town, to follow his old trade of stockjobbing a little longer; when an unlucky fluctuation of stock, in which he was engaged to an immense extent, reduced him at once to poverty and to madness. Poor wretch! he told me tother day that against the next payment of differences he should be some hundreds above a plum. It is a spondee, and I will maintain it, interrupted a voice on his left hand. This assertion was followed by a very rapid recital of some verses from Homer. That figure, said the gentleman, whose clothes are so bedaubed with snuff, was a schoolmaster of some reputation: he came hither to be resolved of some doubts he entertained concerning the genuine pronunciation of the Greek vowels. In his highest fits, he makes frequent mention of one Mr. Bentley. But delusive ideas, sir, are the motives of the greatest part of mankind, and a heated imagination the power by which their actions are incited: the world, in the eye of a philosopher, may be said to be a large madhouse. It is true, answered Harley, the passions of men are temporary madnesses; and sometimes very fatal in their effects. From Macedonias madman to the Swede. It was, indeed, said the stranger, a very mad thing in Charles to think of adding so vast a country as Russia to his dominions: that would have been fatal indeed; the balance of the North would then have been lost; but the Sultan and I would never have allowed it.Sir! said Harley, with no small surprise on his countenance.Why, yes, answered the other, the Sultan and I; do you know me? I am the Chan of Tartary. Harley was a good deal struck by this discovery; he had prudence enough, however, to conceal his amazement, and bowing as low to the monarch as his dignity required, left him immediately, and joined his companions. He found them in a quarter of the house set apart for the insane of the other sex, several of whom had gathered about the female visitors, and were examining, with rather more accuracy than might have been expected, the particulars of their dress. Separate from the rest stood one whose appearance had something of superior dignity. Her face, though pale and wasted, was less squalid than those of the others, and showed a dejection of that decent kind, which moves our pity unmixed with horror: upon her, therefore, the eyes of all were immediately turned. The keeper who accompanied them observed it: This, said he, is a young lady who was born to ride in her coach and six. She was beloved, if the story I have heard is true, by a young gentleman, her equal in birth, though by no means her match in fortune: but love, they say, is blind, and so she fancied him as much as he did her. Her father, it seems, would not hear of their marriage, and threatened to turn her out of doors if ever she saw him again. Upon this the young gentleman took a voyage to the West Indies, in hopes of bettering his fortune, and obtaining his mistress; but he was scarce landed, when he was seized with one of the fevers which are common in those islands, and died in a few days, lamented by every one that knew him. This news soon reached his mistress, who was at the same time pressed by her father to marry a rich miserly fellow, who was old enough to be her grandfather. The death of her lover had no effect on her inhuman parent: he was only the more earnest for her marriage with the man he had provided for her; and what between her despair at the death of the one, and her aversion to the other, the poor young lady was reduced to the condition you see her in. But God would not prosper such cruelty; her fathers affairs soon after went to wreck, and he died almost a beggar. Though this story was told in very plain language, it had particularly attracted Harleys notice; he had given it the tribute of some tears. The unfortunate young lady had till now seemed entranced in thought, with her eyes fixed on a little garnet ring she wore on her finger; she turned them now upon Harley. My Billy is no more! said she; do you weep for my Billy? Blessings on your tears! I would weep too, but my brain is dry; and it burns, it burns, it burns!She drew nearer to Harley.Be comforted, young lady, said he, your Billy is in heaven.Is he, indeed? and shall we meet again? and shall that frightful man (pointing to the keeper) not be there!Alas! I am grown naughty of late; I have almost forgotten to think of heaven: yet I pray sometimes; when I can, I pray; and sometimes I sing; when I am saddest, I sing:You shall hear mehush! Light be the earth on Billys breast, And green the sod that wraps his grave. There was a plaintive wildness in the air not to be withstood; and, except the keepers, there was not an unmoistened eye around her. Do you weep again? said she. I would not have you weep: you are like my Billy; you are, believe me; just so he looked when he gave me this ring; poor Billy! twas the last time ever we met! Twas when the seas were roaringI love you for resembling my Billy; but I shall never love any man like him.She stretched out her hand to Harley; he pressed it between both of his, and bathed it with his tears.Nay, that is Billys ring, said she, you cannot have it, indeed; but here is another, look here, which I plated today of some goldthread from this bit of stuff; will you keep it for my sake? I am a strange girl; but my heart is harmless: my poor heart; it will burst some day; feel how it beats! She pressed his hand to her bosom, then holding her head in the attitude of listeningHark! one, two, three! be quiet, thou little trembler; my Billy is cold!but I had forgotten the ring.She put it on his finger. Farewell! I must leave you now.She would have withdrawn her hand; Harley held it to his lips.I dare not stay longer; my head throbs sadly: farewell!She walked with a hurried step to a little apartment at some distance. Harley stood fixed in astonishment and pity; his friend gave money to the keeper.Harley looked on his ring.He put a couple of guineas into the mans hand: Be kind to that unfortunate.He burst into tears, and left them. CHAPTER XXI. THE MISANTHROPE. THE friend who had conducted him to Moorfields called upon him again the next evening. After some talk on the adventures of the preceding day: I carried you yesterday, said he to Harley, to visit the mad; let me introduce you tonight, at supper, to one of the wise: but you must not look for anything of the Socratic pleasantry about him; on the contrary, I warn you to expect the spirit of a Diogenes. That you may be a little prepared for his extraordinary manner, I will let you into some particulars of his history. He is the elder of the two sons of a gentleman of considerable estate in the country. Their father died when they were young: both were remarkable at school for quickness of parts and extent of genius; this had been bred to no profession, because his fathers fortune, which descended to him, was thought sufficient to set him above it; the other was put apprentice to an eminent attorney. In this the expectations of his friends were more consulted than his own inclination; for both his brother and he had feelings of that warm kind that could ill brook a study so dry as the law, especially in that department of it which was allotted to him. But the difference of their tempers made the characteristical distinction between them. The younger, from the gentleness of his nature, bore with patience a situation entirely discordant to his genius and disposition. At times, indeed, his pride would suggest of how little importance those talents were which the partiality of his friends had often extolled: they were now incumbrances in a walk of life where the dull and the ignorant passed him at every turn; his fancy and his feeling were invincible obstacles to eminence in a situation where his fancy had no room for exertion, and his feeling experienced perpetual disgust. But these murmurings he never suffered to be heard; and that he might not offend the prudence of those who had been concerned in the choice of his profession, he continued to labour in it several years, till, by the death of a relation, he succeeded to an estate of a little better than 100 a year, with which, and the small patrimony left him, he retired into the country, and made a lovematch with a young lady of a similar temper to his own, with whom the sagacious world pitied him for finding happiness. But his elder brother, whom you are to see at supper, if you will do us the favour of your company, was naturally impetuous, decisive, and overbearing. He entered into life with those ardent expectations by which young men are commonly deluded: in his friendships, warm to excess; and equally violent in his dislikes. He was on the brink of marriage with a young lady, when one of those friends, for whose honour he would have pawned his life, made an elopement with that very goddess, and left him besides deeply engaged for sums which that good friends extravagance had squandered. The dreams he had formerly enjoyed were now changed for ideas of a very different nature. He abjured all confidence in anything of human form; sold his lands, which still produced him a very large reversion, came to town, and immured himself, with a woman who had been his nurse, in little better than a garret; and has ever since applied his talents to the vilifying of his species. In one thing I must take the liberty to instruct you; however different your sentiments may be (and different they must be), you will suffer him to go on without contradiction; otherwise, he will be silent immediately, and we shall not get a word from him all the night after. Harley promised to remember this injunction, and accepted the invitation of his friend. When they arrived at the house, they were informed that the gentleman was come, and had been shown into the parlour. They found him sitting with a daughter of his friends, about three years old, on his knee, whom he was teaching the alphabet from a horn book: at a little distance stood a sister of hers, some years older. Get you away, miss, said he to this last; you are a pert gossip, and I will have nothing to do with you.Nay, answered she, Nancy is your favourite; you are quite in love with Nancy.Take away that girl, said he to her father, whom he now observed to have entered the room; she has woman about her already. The children were accordingly dismissed. Betwixt that and suppertime he did not utter a syllable. When supper came, he quarrelled with every dish at table, but eat of them all; only exempting from his censures a salad, which you have not spoiled, said he, because you have not attempted to cook it. When the wine was set upon the table, he took from his pocket a particular smoking apparatus, and filled his pipe, without taking any more notice of Harley, or his friend, than if no such persons had been in the room. Harley could not help stealing a look of surprise at him; but his friend, who knew his humour, returned it by annihilating his presence in the like manner, and, leaving him to his own meditations, addressed himself entirely to Harley. In their discourse some mention happened to be made of an amiable character, and the words honour and politeness were applied to it. Upon this, the gentleman, laying down his pipe, and changing the tone of his countenance, from an ironical grin to something more intently contemptuous: Honour, said he: Honour and Politeness! this is the coin of the world, and passes current with the fools of it. You have substituted the shadow Honour, instead of the substance Virtue; and have banished the reality of friendship for the fictitious semblance which you have termed Politeness: politeness, which consists in a certain ceremonious jargon, more ridiculous to the ear of reason than the voice of a puppet. You have invented sounds, which you worship, though they tyrannize over your peace; and are surrounded with empty forms, which take from the honest emotions of joy, and add to the poignancy of misfortune. Sir! said Harleyhis friend winked to him, to remind him of the caution he had received. He was silenced by the thought. The philosopher turned his eye upon him: he examined him from top to toe, with a sort of triumphant contempt; Harleys coat happened to be a new one; the others was as shabby as could possibly be supposed to be on the back of a gentleman: there was much significance in his look with regard to this coat; it spoke of the sleekness of folly and the threadbareness of wisdom. Truth, continued he, the most amiable, as well as the most natural of virtues, you are at pains to eradicate. Your very nurseries are seminaries of falsehood; and what is called Fashion in manhood completes the system of avowed insincerity. Mankind, in the gross, is a gaping monster, that loves to be deceived, and has seldom been disappointed: nor is their vanity less fallacious to your philosophers, who adopt modes of truth to follow them through the paths of error, and defend paradoxes merely to be singular in defending them. These are they whom ye term Ingenious; tis a phrase of commendation I detest: it implies an attempt to impose on my judgment, by flattering my imagination; yet these are they whose works are read by the old with delight, which the young are taught to look upon as the codes of knowledge and philosophy. Indeed, the education of your youth is every way preposterous; you waste at school years in improving talents, without having ever spent an hour in discovering them; one promiscuous line of instruction is followed, without regard to genius, capacity, or probable situation in the commonwealth. From this beargarden of the pedagogue, a raw, unprincipled boy is turned loose upon the world to travel; without any ideas but those of improving his dress at Paris, or starting into taste by gazing on some paintings at Rome. Ask him of the manners of the people, and he will tell you that the skirt is worn much shorter in France, and that everybody eats macaroni in Italy. When he returns home, he buys a seat in parliament, and studies the constitution at Arthurs. Nor are your females trained to any more useful purpose: they are taught, by the very rewards which their nurses propose for good behaviour, by the first thing like a jest which they hear from every male visitor of the family, that a young woman is a creature to be married; and when they are grown somewhat older, are instructed that it is the purpose of marriage to have the enjoyment of pinmoney, and the expectation of a jointure. These, 61 indeed, are the effects of luxury, which is, perhaps, inseparable from a certain degree of power and grandeur in a nation. But it is not simply of the progress of luxury that we have to complain: did its votaries keep in their own sphere of thoughtless dissipation, we might despise them without emotion; but the frivolous pursuits of pleasure are mingled with the most important concerns of the state; and public enterprise shall sleep till he who should guide its operation has decided his bets at Newmarket, or fulfilled his engagement with a favourite mistress in the country. We want some man of acknowledged eminence to point our counsels with that firmness which the counsels of a great people require. We have hundreds of ministers, who press forward into office without having ever learned that art which is necessary for every business: the art of thinking; and mistake the petulance, which could give inspiration to smart sarcasms on an obnoxious measure in a popular assembly, for the ability which is to balance the interest of kingdoms, and investigate the latent sources of national superiority. With the administration of such men the people can never be satisfied; for besides that their confidence is gained only by the view of superior talents, there needs that depth of knowledge, which is not only acquainted with the just extent of power, but can also trace its connection with the expedient, to preserve its possessors from the contempt which attends irresolution, or the resentment which follows temerity.      Here a considerable part is wanting.   In short, man is an animal equally selfish and vain. Vanity, indeed, is but a modification of selfishness. From the latter, there are some who pretend to be free: they are generally such as declaim against the lust of wealth and power, because they have never been able to attain any high degree in either: they boast of generosity and feeling. They tell us (perhaps they tell us in rhyme) that the sensations of an honest heart, of a mind universally benevolent, make up the quiet bliss which they enjoy; but they will not, by this, be exempted from the charge of selfishness. Whence the luxurious happiness they describe in their little familycircles? Whence the pleasure which they feel, when they trim their evening fires, and listen to the howl of winters wind? Whence, but from the secret reflection of what houseless wretches feel from it? Or do you administer comfort in afflictionthe motive is at hand; I have had it preached to me in nineteen out of twenty of your consolatory discoursesthe comparative littleness of our own misfortunes. With vanity your best virtues are grossly tainted: your benevolence, which ye deduce immediately from the natural impulse of the heart, squints to it for its reward. There are some, indeed, who tell us of the satisfaction which flows from a secret consciousness of good actions: this secret satisfaction is truly excellentwhen we have some friend to whom we may discover its excellence. He now paused a moment to relight his pipe, when a clock, that stood at his back, struck eleven; he started up at the sound, took his hat and his cane, and nodding good night with his head, walked out of the room. The gentleman of the house called a servant to bring the strangers surtout. What sort of a night is it, fellow? said he.It rains, sir, answered the servant, with an easterly wind.Easterly for ever! He made no other reply; but shrugging up his shoulders till they almost touched his ears, wrapped himself tight in his great coat, and disappeared. This is a strange creature, said his friend to Harley. I cannot say, answered he, that his remarks are of the pleasant kind: it is curious to observe how the nature of truth may be changed by the garb it wears; softened to the admonition of friendship, or soured into the severity of reproof: yet this severity may be useful to some tempers; it somewhat resembles a file: disagreeable in its operation, but hard metals may be the brighter for it.      CHAPTER XXV. HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY. THE company at the baronets removed to the playhouse accordingly, and Harley took his usual route into the Park. He observed, as he entered, a freshlooking elderly gentleman in conversation with a beggar, who, leaning on his crutch, was recounting the hardships he had undergone, and explaining the wretchedness of his present condition. This was a very interesting dialogue to Harley; he was rude enough, therefore, to slacken his pace as he approached, and at last to make a full stop at the gentlemans back, who was just then expressing his compassion for the beggar, and regretting that he had not a farthing of change about him. At saying this, he looked piteously on the fellow: there was something in his physiognomy which caught Harleys notice: indeed, physiognomy was one of Harleys foibles, for which he had been often rebuked by his aunt in the country, who used to tell him that when he was come to her years and experience he would know that alls not gold that glitters: and it must be owned that his aunt was a very sensible, harshlooking maiden lady of threescore and upwards. But he was too apt to forget this caution and now, it seems, it had not occurred to him. Stepping up, therefore, to the gentleman, who was lamenting the want of silver, Your intentions, sir, said he, are so good, that I cannot help lending you my assistance to carry them into execution, and gave the beggar a shilling. The other returned a suitable compliment, and extolled the benevolence of Harley. They kept walking together, and benevolence grew the topic of discourse. The stranger was fluent on the subject. There is no use of money, said he, equal to that of beneficence. With the profuse, it is lost; and even with those who lay it out according to the prudence of the world, the objects acquired by it pall on the sense, and have scarce become our own till they lose their value with the power of pleasing; but here the enjoyment grows on reflection, and our money is most truly ours when it ceases being in our possession. Yet I agree in some measure, answered Harley, with those who think that charity to our common beggars is often misplaced; there are objects less obtrusive whose title is a better one. We cannot easily distinguish, said the stranger; and even of the worthless, are there not many whose imprudence, or whose vice, may have been one dreadful consequence of misfortune? Harley looked again in his face, and blessed himself for his skill in physiognomy. By this time they had reached the end of the walk, the old gentleman leaning on the rails to take breath, and in the meantime they were joined by a younger man, whose figure was much above the appearance of his dress, which was poor and shabby. Harleys former companion addressed him as an acquaintance, and they turned on the walk together. The elder of the strangers complained of the closeness of the evening, and asked the other if he would go with him into a house hard by, and take one draught of excellent cyder. The man who keeps this house, said he to Harley, was once a servant of mine. I could not think of turning loose upon the world a faithful old fellow, for no other reason but that his age had incapacitated him; so I gave him an annuity of ten pounds, with the help of which he has set up this little place here, and his daughter goes and sells milk in the city, while her father manages his taproom, as he calls it, at home. I cant well ask a gentleman of your appearance to accompany me to so paltry a place. Sir, replied Harley, interrupting him, I would much rather enter it than the most celebrated tavern in town. To give to the necessitous may sometimes be a weakness in the man; to encourage industry is a duty in the citizen. They entered the house accordingly. On a table at the corner of the room lay a pack of cards, loosely thrown together. The old gentleman reproved the man of the house for encouraging so idle an amusement. Harley attempted to defend him from the necessity of accommodating himself to the humour of his guests, and taking up the cards, began to shuffle them backwards and forwards in his hand. Nay, I dont think cards so unpardonable an amusement as some do, replied the other; and now and then, about this time of the evening, when my eyes begin to fail me for my book, I divert myself with a game at piquet, without finding my morals a bit relaxed by it. Do you play piquet, sir? (to Harley.) Harley answered in the affirmative; upon which the other proposed playing a pool at a shilling the game, doubling the stakes; adding, that he never played higher with anybody. Harleys good nature could not refuse the benevolent old man; and the younger stranger, though he at first pleaded prior engagements, yet being earnestly solicited by his friend, at last yielded to solicitation. When they began to play, the old gentleman, somewhat to the surprise of Harley, produced ten shillings to serve for markers of his score. He had no change for the beggar, said Harley to himself; but I can easily account for it; it is curious to observe the affection that inanimate things will create in us by a long acquaintance. If I may judge from my own feelings, the old man would not part with one of these counters for ten times its intrinsic value; it even got the better of his benevolence! I, myself, have a pair of old brass sleeve buttons. Here he was interrupted by being told that the old gentleman had beat the younger, and that it was his turn to take up the conqueror. Your game has been short, said Harley. I repiqued him, answered the old man, with joy sparkling in his countenance. Harley wished to be repiqued too, but he was disappointed; for he had the same good fortune against his opponent. Indeed, never did fortune, mutable as she is, delight in mutability so much as at that moment. The victory was so quick, and so constantly alternate, that the stake, in a short time, amounted to no less a sum than 12, Harleys proportion of which was within halfaguinea of the money he had in his pocket. He had before proposed a division, but the old gentleman opposed it with such a pleasant warmth in his manner, that it was always overruled. Now, however, he told them that he had an appointment with some gentlemen, and it was within a few minutes of his hour. The young stranger had gained one game, and was engaged in the second with the other; they agreed, therefore, that the stake should be divided, if the old gentleman won that: which was more than probable, as his score was 90 to 35, and he was elder hand; but a momentous repique decided it in favour of his adversary, who seemed to enjoy his victory mingled with regret, for having won too much, while his friend, with great ebullience of passion, many praises of his own good play, and many maledictions on the power of chance, took up the cards, and threw them into the fire. CHAPTER XXVI. FRUITS OF THE DEAD SEA. THE company he was engaged to meet were assembled in Fleet Street. He had walked some time along the Strand, amidst a crowd of those wretches who wait the uncertain wages of prostitution, with ideas of pity suitable to the scene around him and the feelings he possessed, and had got as far as Somerset House, when one of them laid hold of his arm, and, with a voice tremulous and faint, asked him for a pint of wine, in a manner more supplicatory than is usual with those whom the infamy of their profession has deprived of shame. He turned round at the demand, and looked steadfastly on the person who made it. She was above the common size, and elegantly formed; her face was thin and hollow, and showed the remains of tarnished beauty. Her eyes were black, but had little of their lustre left; her cheeks had some paint laid on without art, and productive of no advantage to her complexion, which exhibited a deadly paleness on the other parts of her face. Harley stood in the attitude of hesitation; which she, interpreting to her advantage, repeated her request, and endeavoured to force a leer of invitation into her countenance. He took her arm, and they walked on to one of those obsequious taverns in the neighbourhood, where the dearness of the wine is a discharge in full for the character of the house. From what impulse he did this we do not mean to enquire; as it has ever been against our nature to search for motives where bad ones are to be found. They entered, and a waiter showed them a room, and placed a bottle of claret on the table. Harley filled the ladys glass: which she had no sooner tasted, than dropping it on the floor, and eagerly catching his arm, her eye grew fixed, her lip assumed a clayey whiteness, and she fell back lifeless in her chair. Harley started from his seat, and, catching her in his arms, supported her from falling to the ground, looking wildly at the door, as if he wanted to run for assistance, but durst not leave the miserable creature. It was not till some minutes after that it occurred to him to ring the bell, which at last, however, he thought of, and rung with repeated violence even after the waiter appeared. Luckily the waiter had his senses somewhat more about him; and snatching up a bottle of water, which stood on a buffet at the end of the room, he sprinkled it over the hands and face of the dying figure before him. She began to revive, and, with the assistance of some hartshorn drops, which Harley now for the first time drew from his pocket, was able to desire the waiter to bring her a crust of bread, of which she swallowed some mouthfuls with the appearance of the keenest hunger. The waiter withdrew: when turning to Harley, sobbing at the same time, and shedding tears, I am sorry, sir, said she, that I should have given you so much trouble; but you will pity me when I tell you that till now I have not tasted a morsel these two days past.He fixed his eyes on hersevery circumstance but the last was forgotten; and he took her hand with as much respect as if she had been a duchess. It was ever the privilege of misfortune to be revered by him.Two days! said he; and I have fared sumptuously every day!He was reaching to the bell; she understood his meaning, and prevented him. I beg, sir, said she, that you would give yourself no more trouble about a wretch who does not wish to live; but, at present, I could not eat a bit; my stomach even rose at the last mouthful of that crust.He offered to call a chair, saying that he hoped a little rest would relieve her.He had one halfguinea left. I am sorry, he said, that at present I should be able to make you an offer of no more than this paltry sum.She burst into tears: Your generosity, sir, is abused; to bestow it on me is to take it from the virtuous. I have no title but misery to plead: misery of my own procuring. No more of that, answered Harley; there is virtue in these tears; let the fruit of them be virtue.He rung, and ordered a chair.Though I am the vilest of beings, said she, I have not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall still have left, did I but know who is my benefactor.My name is Harley.Could I ever have an opportunity?You shall, and a glorious one too! your future conductbut I do not mean to reproach youif, I sayit will be the noblest rewardI will do myself the pleasure of seeing you again.Here the waiter entered, and told them the chair was at the door; the lady informed Harley of her lodgings, and he promised to wait on her at ten next morning. He led her to the chair, and returned to clear with the waiter, without ever once reflecting that he had no money in his pocket. He was ashamed to make an excuse; yet an excuse must be made: he was beginning to frame one, when the waiter cut him short by telling him that he could not run scores; but that, if he would leave his watch, or any other pledge, it would be as safe as if it lay in his pocket. Harley jumped at the proposal, and pulling out his watch, delivered it into his hands immediately, and having, for once, had the precaution to take a note of the lodging he intended to visit next morning, sallied forth with a blush of triumph on his face, without taking notice of the sneer of the waiter, who, twirling the watch in his hand, made him a profound bow at the door, and whispered to a girl, who stood in the passage, something, in which the word CULLY was honoured with a particular emphasis. CHAPTER XXVII. HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY IS DOUBTED. AFTER he had been some time with the company he had appointed to meet, and the last bottle was called for, he first recollected that he would be again at a loss how to discharge his share of the reckoning. He applied, therefore, to one of them, with whom he was most intimate, acknowledging that he had not a farthing of money about him; and, upon being jocularly asked the reason, acquainted them with the two adventures we have just now related. One of the company asked him if the old man in Hyde Park did not wear a brownish coat, with a narrow gold edging, and his companion an old green frock, with a buffcoloured waistcoat. Upon Harleys recollecting that they did, Then, said he, you may be thankful you have come off so well; they are two as noted sharpers, in their way, as any in town, and but tother night took me in for a much larger sum. I had some thoughts of applying to a justice, but one does not like to be seen in those matters. Harley answered, That he could not but fancy the gentleman was mistaken, as he never saw a face promise more honesty than that of the old man he had met with.His face! said a gravelooking man, when sat opposite to him, squirting the juice of his tobacco obliquely into the grate. There was something very emphatical in the action, for it was followed by a burst of laughter round the table. Gentlemen, said Harley, you are disposed to be merry; it may be as you imagine, for I confess myself ignorant of the town; but there is one thing which makes me hear the loss of my money with temper: the young fellow who won it must have been miserably poor; I observed him borrow money for the stake from his friend: he had distress and hunger in his countenance: be his character what it may, his necessities at least plead for him. At this there was a louder laugh than before. Gentlemen, said the lawyer, one of whose conversations with Harley we have already recorded, heres a pretty fellow for you! to have heard him talk some nights ago, as I did, you might have sworn he was a saint; yet now he games with sharpers, and loses his money, and is bubbled by a fine tale of the Dead Sea, and pawns his watch; here are sanctified doings with a witness! Young gentleman, said his friend on the other side of the table, let me advise you to be a little more cautious for the future; and as for facesyou may look into them to know whether a mans nose be a long or a short one. CHAPTER XXVIII. HE KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT. THE last nights raillery of his companions was recalled to his remembrance when he awoke, and the colder homilies of prudence began to suggest some things which were nowise favourable for a performance of his promise to the unfortunate female he had met with before. He rose, uncertain of his purpose; but the torpor of such considerations was seldom prevalent over the warmth of his nature. He walked some turns backwards and forwards in his room; he recalled the languid form of the fainting wretch to his mind; he wept at the recollection of her tears. Though I am the vilest of beings, I have not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall still have left.He took a larger stridePowers of mercy that surround me! cried he, do ye not smile upon deeds like these? to calculate the chances of deception is too tedious a business for the life of man!The clock struck ten.When he was got downstairs, he found that he had forgot the note of her lodgings; he gnawed his lips at the delay: he was fairly on the pavement, when he recollected having left his purse; he did but just prevent himself from articulating an imprecation. He rushed a second time up into his chamber. What a wretch I am! said he; ere this time, perhaps Twas a perhaps not to be borne;two vibrations of a pendulum would have served him to lock his bureau; but they could not be spared. When he reached the house, and inquired for Miss Atkins (for that was the ladys name), he was shown up three pair of stairs, into a small room lighted by one narrow lattice, and patched round with shreds of differentcoloured paper. In the darkest corner stood something like a bed, before which a tattered coverlet hung by way of curtain. He had not waited long when she appeared. Her face had the glister of newwashed tears on it. I am ashamed, sir, said she, that you should have taken this fresh piece of trouble about one so little worthy of it; but, to the humane, I know there is a pleasure in goodness for its own sake: if you have patience for the recital of my story, it may palliate, though it cannot excuse, my faults. Harley bowed, as a sign of assent; and she began as follows: I am the daughter of an officer, whom a service of forty years had advanced no higher than the rank of captain. I have had hints from himself, and been informed by others, that it was in some measure owing to those principles of rigid honour, which it was his boast to possess, and which he early inculcated on me, that he had been able to arrive at no better station. My mother died when I was a child: old enough to grieve for her death, but incapable of remembering her precepts. Though my father was doatingly fond of her, yet there were some sentiments in which they materially differed: she had been bred from her infancy in the strictest principles of religion, and took the morality of her conduct from the motives which an adherence to those principles suggested. My father, who had been in the army from his youth, affixed an idea of pusillanimity to that virtue, which was formed by the doctrines, excited by the rewards, or guarded by the terrors of revelation; his dashing idol was the honour of a soldier: a term which he held in such reverence, that he used it for his most sacred asseveration. When my mother died, I was some time suffered to continue in those sentiments which her instructions had produced; but soon after, though, from respect to her memory, my father did not absolutely ridicule them, yet he showed, in his discourse to others, so little regard to them, and at times suggested to me motives of action so different, that I was soon weaned from opinions which I began to consider as the dreams of superstition, or the artful inventions of designing hypocrisy. My mothers books were left behind at the different quarters we removed to, and my reading was principally confined to plays, novels, and those poetical descriptions of the beauty of virtue and honour, which the circulating libraries easily afforded. As I was generally reckoned handsome, and the quickness of my parts extolled by all our visitors, my father had a pride in allowing me to the world. I was young, giddy, open to adulation, and vain of those talents which acquired it. After the last war, my father was reduced to halfpay; with which we retired to a village in the country, which the acquaintance of some genteel families who resided in it, and the cheapness of living, particularly recommended. My father rented a small house, with a piece of ground sufficient to keep a horse for him, and a cow for the benefit of his family. An old man servant managed his ground; while a maid, who had formerly been my mothers, and had since been mine, undertook the care of our little dairy: they were assisted in each of their provinces by my father and me: and we passed our time in a state of tranquillity, which he had always talked of with delight, and my train of reading had taught me to admire. Though I had never seen the polite circles of the metropolis, the company my father had introduced me into had given me a degree of good breeding, which soon discovered a superiority over the young ladies of our village. I was quoted as an example of politeness, and my company courted by most of the considerable families in the neighbourhood. Amongst the houses where I was frequently invited was Sir George Winbrookes. He had two daughters nearly of my age, with whom, though they had been bred up in those maxims of vulgar doctrine which my superior understanding could not but despise, yet as their good nature led them to an imitation of my manners in everything else, I cultivated a particular friendship. Some months after our first acquaintance, Sir Georges eldest son came home from his travels. His figure, his address, and conversation, were not unlike those warm ideas of an accomplished man which my favourite novels had taught me to form; and his sentiments on the article of religion were as liberal as my own: when any of these happened to be the topic of our discourse, I, who before had been silent, from a fear of being single in opposition, now kindled at the fire he raised, and defended our mutual opinions with all the eloquence I was mistress of. He would be respectfully attentive all the while; and when I had ended, would raise his eyes from the ground, look at me with a gaze of admiration, and express his applause in the highest strain of encomium. This was an incense the more pleasing, as I seldom or never had met with it before; for the young gentlemen who visited Sir George were for the most part of that athletic order, the pleasure of whose lives is derived from foxhunting: these are seldom solicitous to please the women at all; or if they were, would never think of applying their flattery to the mind. Mr. Winbrooke observed the weakness of my soul, and took every occasion of improving the esteem he had gained. He asked my opinion of every author, of every sentiment, with that submissive diffidence, which showed an unlimited confidence in my understanding. I saw myself revered, as a superior being, by one whose judgment my vanity told me was not likely to err: preferred by him to all the other visitors of my sex, whose fortunes and rank should have entitled them to a much higher degree of notice: I saw their little jealousies at the distinguished attention he paid me; it was gratitude, it was pride, it was love! Love which had made too fatal a progress in my heart, before any declaration on his part should have warranted a return: but I interpreted every look of attention, every expression of compliment, to the passion I imagined him inspired with, and imputed to his sensibility that silence which was the effect of art and design. At length, however, he took an opportunity of declaring his love: he now expressed himself in such ardent terms, that prudence might have suspected their sincerity: but prudence is rarely found in the situation I had been unguardedly led into; besides, that the course of reading to which I had been accustomed, did not lead me to conclude, that his expressions could be too warm to be sincere: nor was I even alarmed at the manner in which he talked of marriage, a subjection, he often hinted, to which genuine love should scorn to be confined. The woman, he would often say, who had merit like mine to fix his affection, could easily command it for ever. That honour too which I revered, was often called in to enforce his sentiments. I did not, however, absolutely assent to them; but I found my regard for their opposites diminish by degrees. If it is dangerous to be convinced, it is dangerous to listen; for our reason is so much of a machine, that it will not always be able to resist, when the ear is perpetually assailed. In short, Mr. Harley (for I tire you with a relation, the catastrophe of which you will already have imagined), I fell a prey to his artifices. He had not been able so thoroughly to convert me, that my conscience was silent on the subject; but he was so assiduous to give repeated proofs of unabated affection, that I hushed its suggestions as they rose. The world, however, I knew, was not to be silenced; and therefore I took occasion to express my uneasiness to my seducer, and entreat him, as he valued the peace of one to whom he professed such attachment, to remove it by a marriage. He made excuse from his dependence on the will of his father, but quieted my fears by the promise of endeavouring to win his assent. My father had been some days absent on a visit to a dying relation, from whom he had considerable expectations. I was left at home, with no other company than my books: my books I found were not now such companions as they used to be; I was restless, melancholy, unsatisfied with myself. But judge my situation when I received a billet from Mr. Winbrooke informing me, that he had sounded Sir George on the subject we had talked of, and found him so averse to any match so unequal to his own rank and fortune, that he was obliged, with whatever reluctance, to bid adieu to a place, the remembrance of which should ever be dear to him. I read this letter a hundred times over. Alone, helpless, conscious of guilt, and abandoned by every better thought, my mind was one motley scene of terror, confusion, and remorse. A thousand expedients suggested themselves, and a thousand fears told me they would be vain: at last, in an agony of despair, I packed up a few clothes, took what money and trinkets were in the house, and set out for London, whither I understood he was gone; pretending to my maid, that I had received letters from my father requiring my immediate attendance. I had no other companion than a boy, a servant to the man from whom I hired my horses. I arrived in London within an hour of Mr. Winbrooke, and accidentally alighted at the very inn where he was. He started and turned pale when he saw me; but recovered himself in time enough to make many new protestations of regard, and beg me to make myself easy under a disappointment which was equally afflicting to him. He procured me lodgings, where I slept, or rather endeavoured to sleep, for that night. Next morning I saw him again, he then mildly observed on the imprudence of my precipitate flight from the country, and proposed my removing to lodgings at another end of the town, to elude the search of my father, till he should fall upon some method of excusing my conduct to him, and reconciling him to my return. We took a hackneycoach, and drove to the house he mentioned. It was situated in a dirty lane, furnished with a tawdry affectation of finery, with some old family pictures hanging on walls which their own cobwebs would better have suited. I was struck with a secret dread at entering, nor was it lessened by the appearance of the landlady, who had that look of selfish shrewdness, which, of all others, is the most hateful to those whose feelings are untinctured with the world. A girl, who she told us was her niece, sat by her, playing on a guitar, while herself was at work, with the assistance of spectacles, and had a prayerbook with the leaves folded down in several places, lying on the table before her. Perhaps, sir, I tire you with my minuteness, but the place, and every circumstance about it, is so impressed on my mind, that I shall never forget it. I dined that day with Mr. Winbrooke alone. He lost by degrees that restraint which I perceived too well to hang about him before, and, with his former gaiety and good humour, repeated the flattering things which, though they had once been fatal, I durst not now distrust. At last, taking my hand and kissing it, It is thus, said he, that love will last, while freedom is preserved; thus let us ever be blessed, without the galling thought that we are tied to a condition where we may cease to be so. I answered, That the world thought otherwise: that it had certain ideas of good fame, which it was impossible not to wish to maintain. The world, said he, is a tyrant, they are slaves who obey it; let us be happy without the pale of the world. Tomorrow I shall leave this quarter of it, for one where the talkers of the world shall be foiled, and lose us. Could not my Emily accompany me? my friend, my companion, the mistress of my soul! Nay, do not look so, Emily! Your father may grieve for a while, but your father shall be taken care of; this bankbill I intend as the comfort for his daughter. I could contain myself no longer: Wretch, I exclaimed, dost thou imagine that my fathers heart could brook dependence on the destroyer of his child, and tamely accept of a base equivalent for her honour and his own? Honour, my Emily, said he, is the word of fools, or of those wiser men who cheat them. Tis a fantastic bauble that does not suit the gravity of your fathers age; but, whatever it is, I am afraid it can never be perfectly restored to you: exchange the word then, and let pleasure be your object now. At these words he clasped me in his arms, and pressed his lips rudely to my bosom. I started from my seat. Perfidious villain! said I, who darst insult the weakness thou hast undone; were that father here, thy coward soul would shrink from the vengeance of his honour! Cursed be that wretch who has deprived him of it! oh doubly cursed, who has dragged on his hoary head the infamy which should have crushed her own! I snatched a knife which lay beside me, and would have plunged it in my breast, but the monster prevented my purpose, and smiling with a grin of barbarous insult Madam, said he, I confess you are rather too much in heroics for me; I am sorry we should differ about trifles; but as I seem somehow to have offended you, I would willingly remedy it by taking my leave. You have been put to some foolish expense in this journey on my account; allow me to reimburse you. So saying he laid a bankbill, of what amount I had no patience to see, upon the table. Shame, grief, and indignation choked my utterance; unable to speak my wrongs, and unable to bear them in silence, I fell in a swoon at his feet. What happened in the interval I cannot tell, but when I came to myself I was in the arms of the landlady, with her niece chafing my temples, and doing all in her power for my recovery. She had much compassion in her countenance; the old woman assumed the softest look she was capable of, and both endeavoured to bring me comfort. They continued to show me many civilities, and even the aunt began to be less disagreeable in my sight. To the wretched, to the forlorn, as I was, small offices of kindness are endearing. Meantime my money was far spent, nor did I attempt to conceal my wants from their knowledge. I had frequent thoughts of returning to my father; but the dread of a life of scorn is insurmountable. I avoided, therefore, going abroad when I had a chance of being seen by any former acquaintance, nor indeed did my health for a great while permit it; and suffered the old woman, at her own suggestion, to call me niece at home, where we now and then saw (when they could prevail on me to leave my room) one or two other elderly women, and sometimes a grave businesslike man, who showed great compassion for my indisposition, and made me very obligingly an offer of a room at his countryhouse for the recovery of my health. This offer I did not chose to accept, but told my landlady, that I should be glad to be employed in any way of business which my skill in needlework could recommend me to, confessing, at the same time, that I was afraid I should scarce be able to pay her what I already owed for board and lodging, and that for her other good offices, I had nothing but thanks to give her. My dear child, said she, do not talk of paying; since I lost my own sweet girl (here she wept), your very picture she was, Miss Emily, I have nobody, except my niece, to whom I should leave any little thing I have been able to save; you shall live with me, my dear; and I have sometimes a little millinery work, in which, when you are inclined to it, you may assist us. By the way, here are a pair of ruffles we have just finished for that gentleman you saw here at tea; a distant relation of mine, and a worthy man he is. Twas pity you refused the offer of an apartment at his country house; my niece, you know, was to have accompanied you, and you might have fancied yourself at home; a most sweet place it is, and but a short mile beyond Hampstead. Who knows, Miss Emily, what effect such a visit might have had! If I had half your beauty I should not waste it pining after eer a worthless fellow of them all. I felt my heart swell at her words; I would have been angry if I could, but I was in that stupid state which is not easily awakened to anger: when I would have chid her the reproof stuck in my throat; I could only weep! Her want of respect increased, as I had not spirit to assert it. My work was now rather imposed than offered, and I became a drudge for the bread I eat: but my dependence and servility grew in proportion, and I was now in a situation which could not make any extraordinary exertions to disengage itself from eitherI found myself with child. At last the wretch, who had thus trained me to destruction, hinted the purpose for which those means had been used. I discovered her to be an artful procuress for the pleasures of those who are men of decency to the world in the midst of debauchery. I roused every spark of courage within me at the horrid proposal. She treated my passion at first somewhat mildly, but when I continued to exert it she resented it with insult, and told me plainly that if I did not soon comply with her desires I should pay her every farthing I owed, or rot in a jail for life. I trembled at the thought; still, however, I resisted her importunities, and she put her threats in execution. I was conveyed to prison, weak from my condition, weaker from that struggle of grief and misery which for some time I had suffered. A miscarriage was the consequence. Amidst all the horrors of such a state, surrounded with wretches totally callous, lost alike to humanity and to shame, think, Mr. Harley, think what I endured; nor wonder that I at last yielded to the solicitations of that miscreant I had seen at her house, and sunk to the prostitution which he tempted. But that was happiness compared to what I have suffered since. He soon abandoned me to the common use of the town, and I was cast among those miserable beings in whose society I have since remained. Oh! did the daughters of virtue know our sufferings; did they see our hearts torn with anguish amidst the affectation of gaiety which our faces are obliged to assume! our bodies tortured by disease, our minds with that consciousness which they cannot lose! Did they know, did they think of this, Mr. Harley! Their censures are just, but their pity perhaps might spare the wretches whom their justice should condemn. Last night, but for an exertion of benevolence which the infection of our infamy prevents even in the humane, had I been thrust out from this miserable place which misfortune has yet left me; exposed to the brutal insults of drunkenness, or dragged by that justice which I could not bribe, to the punishment which may correct, but, alas! can never amend the abandoned objects of its terrors. From that, Mr. Harley, your goodness has relieved me. He beckoned with his hand: he would have stopped the mention of his favours; but he could not speak, had it been to beg a diadem. She saw his tears; her fortitude began to fail at the sight, when the voice of some stranger on the stairs awakened her attention. She listened for a moment, then starting up, exclaimed, Merciful God! my fathers voice! She had scarce uttered the word, when the door burst open, and a man entered in the garb of an officer. When he discovered his daughter and Harley, he started back a few paces; his look assumed a furious wildness! he laid his hand on his sword. The two objects of his wrath did not utter a syllable. Villain, he cried, thou seest a father who had once a daughters honour to preserve; blasted as it now is, behold him ready to avenge its loss! Harley had by this time some power of utterance. Sir, said he, if you will be a moment calm Infamous coward! interrupted the other, dost thou preach calmness to wrongs like mine! He drew his sword. Sir, said Harley, let me tell youthe blood ran quicker to his cheek, his pulse beat one, no more, and regained the temperament of humanityyou are deceived, sir, said he, you are much deceived; but I forgive suspicions which your misfortunes have justified: I would not wrong you, upon my soul I would not, for the dearest gratification of a thousand worlds; my heart bleeds for you! His daughter was now prostrate at his feet. Strike, said she, strike here a wretch, whose misery cannot end but with that death she deserves. Her hair had fallen on her shoulders! her look had the horrid calmness of outbreathed despair! Her father would have spoken; his lip quivered, his cheek grew pale, his eyes lost the lightning of their fury! there was a reproach in them, but with a mingling of pity. He turned them up to heaven, then on his daughter. He laid his left hand on his heart, the sword dropped from his right, he burst into tears. CHAPTER XXIX. THE DISTRESSES OF A FATHER. HARLEY kneeled also at the side of the unfortunate daughter. Allow me, sir, said he, to entreat your pardon for one whose offences have been already so signally punished. I know, I feel, that those tears, wrung from the heart of a father, are more dreadful to her than all the punishments your sword could have inflicted: accept the contrition of a child whom heaven has restored to you. Is she not lost, answered he, irrecoverably lost? Damnation! a common prostitute to the meanest ruffian! Calmly, my dear sir, said Harley, did you know by what complicated misfortunes she had fallen to that miserable state in which you now behold her, I should have no need of words to excite your compassion. Think, sir, of what once she was. Would you abandon her to the insults of an unfeeling world, deny her opportunity of penitence, and cut off the little comfort that still remains for your afflictions and her own! Speak, said he, addressing himself to his daughter; speak; I will hear thee. The desperation that supported her was lost; she fell to the ground, and bathed his feet with her tears. Harley undertook her cause: he related the treacheries to which she had fallen a sacrifice, and again solicited the forgiveness of her father. He looked on her for some time in silence; the pride of a soldiers honour checked for a while the yearnings of his heart; but nature at last prevailed, he fell on her neck and mingled his tears with hers. Harley, who discovered from the dress of the stranger that he was just arrived from a journey, begged that they would both remove to his lodgings, till he could procure others for them. Atkins looked at him with some marks of surprise. His daughter now first recovered the power of speech. Wretch as I am, said she, yet there is some gratitude due to the preserver of your child. See him now before you. To him I owe my life, or at least the comfort of imploring your forgiveness before I die. Pardon me, young gentleman, said Atkins, I fear my passion wronged you. Never, never, sir, said Harley if it had, your reconciliation to your daughter were an atonement a thousand fold. He then repeated his request that he might be allowed to conduct them to his lodgings, to which Mr. Atkins at last consented. He took his daughters arm. Come, my Emily, said he, we can never, never recover that happiness we have lost! but time may teach us to remember our misfortunes with patience. When they arrived at the house where Harley lodged, he was informed that the first floor was then vacant, and that the gentleman and his daughter might be accommodated there. While he was upon his enquiry, Miss Atkins informed her father more particularly what she owed to his benevolence. When he turned into the room where they were Atkins ran and embraced him;begged him again to forgive the offence he had given him, and made the warmest protestations of gratitude for his favours. We would attempt to describe the joy which Harley felt on this occasion, did it not occur to us that one half of the world could not understand it though we did, and the other half will, by this time, have understood it without any description at all. Miss Atkins now retired to her chamber, to take some rest from the violence of the emotions she had suffered. When she was gone, her father, addressing himself to Harley, said, You have a right, sir, to be informed of the present situation of one who owes so much to your compassion for his misfortunes. My daughter I find has informed you what that was at the fatal juncture when they began. Her distresses you have heard, you have pitied as they deserved; with mine, perhaps, I cannot so easily make you acquainted. You have a feeling heart, Mr. Harley; I bless it that it has saved my child; but you never were a father, a father torn by that most dreadful of calamities, the dishonour of a child he doated on! You have been already informed of some of the circumstances of her elopement: I was then from home, called by the death of a relation, who, though he would never advance me a shilling on the utmost exigency in his lifetime, left me all the gleanings of his frugality at his death. I would not write this intelligence to my daughter, because I intended to be the bearer myself; and as soon as my business would allow me, I set out on my return, winged with all the haste of paternal affection. I fondly built those schemes of future happiness, which present prosperity is ever busy to suggest: my Emily was concerned in them all. As I approached our little dwelling my heart throbbed with the anticipation of joy and welcome. I imagined the cheering fire, the blissful contentment of a frugal meal, made luxurious by a daughters smile, I painted to myself her surprise at the tidings of our newacquired riches, our fond disputes about the disposal of them. The road was shortened by the dreams of happiness I enjoyed, and it began to be dark as I reached the house: I alighted from my horse, and walked softly upstairs to the room we commonly sat in. I was somewhat disappointed at not finding my daughter there. I rung the bell; her maid appeared, and shewed no small signs of wonder at the summons. She blessed herself as she entered the room: I smiled at her surprise. Where is Miss Emily, sir? said she. Emily! Yes, sir; she has been gone hence some days, upon receipt of those letters you sent her. Letters! said I. Yes, sir, so she told me, and went off in all haste that very night. I stood aghast as she spoke, but was able so far to recollect myself, as to put on the affectation of calmness, and telling her there was certainly some mistake in the affair, desired her to leave me. When she was gone, I threw myself into a chair, in that state of uncertainty which is, of all others, the most dreadful. The gay visions with which I had delighted myself, vanished in an instant. I was tortured with tracing back the same circle of doubt and disappointment. My head grew dizzy as I thought. I called the servant again, and asked her a hundred questions, to no purpose; there was not room even for conjecture. Something at last arose in my mind, which we call Hope, without knowing what it is. I wished myself deluded by it; but it could not prevail over my returning fears. I rose and walked through the room. My Emilys spinnet stood at the end of it, open, with a book of music folded down at some of my favourite lessons. I touched the keys; there was a vibration in the sound that froze my blood; I looked around, and methought the family pictures on the walls gazed on me with compassion in their faces. I sat down again with an attempt at more composure; I started at every creaking of the door, and my ears rung with imaginary noises! I had not remained long in this situation, when the arrival of a friend, who had accidentally heard of my return, put an end to my doubts, by the recital of my daughters dishonour. He told me he had his information from a young gentleman, to whom Winbrooke had boasted of having seduced her. I started from my seat, with broken curses on my lips, and without knowing whither I should pursue them, ordered my servant to load my pistols and saddle my horses. My friend, however, with great difficulty, persuaded me to compose myself for that night, promising to accompany me on the morrow, to Sir George Winbrookes in quest of his son. The morrow came, after a night spent in a state little distant from madness. We went as early as decency would allow to Sir Georges. He received me with politeness, and indeed compassion, protested his abhorrence of his sons conduct, and told me that he had set out some days before for London, on which place he had procured a draft for a large sum, on pretence of finishing his travels, but that he had not heard from him since his departure. I did not wait for any more, either of information or comfort, but, against the united remonstrances of Sir George and my friend, set out instantly for London, with a frantic uncertainty of purpose; but there, all manner of search was in vain. I could trace neither of them any farther than the inn where they first put up on their arrival; and after some days fruitless inquiry, returned home destitute of every little hope that had hitherto supported me. The journeys I had made, the restless nights I had spent, above all, the perturbation of my mind, had the effect which naturally might be expecteda very dangerous fever was the consequence. From this, however, contrary to the expectation of my physicians, I recovered. It was now that I first felt something like calmness of mind: probably from being reduced to a state which could not produce the exertions of anguish or despair. A stupid melancholy settled on my soul; I could endure to live with an apathy of life; at times I forgot my resentment, and wept at the remembrance of my child. Such has been the tenor of my days since that fatal moment when these misfortunes began, till yesterday, that I received a letter from a friend in town, acquainting me of her present situation. Could such tales as mine, Mr. Harley, be sometimes suggested to the daughters of levity, did they but know with what anxiety the heart of a parent flutters round the child he loves, they would be less apt to construe into harshness that delicate concern for their conduct, which they often complain of as laying restraint upon things, to the young, the gay, and the thoughtless, seemingly harmless and indifferent. Alas! I fondly imagined that I needed not even these common cautions! my Emily was the joy of my age, and the pride of my soul! Those things are now no more, they are lost for ever! Her death I could have born, but the death of her honour has added obloquy and shame to that sorrow which bends my grey hairs to the dust! As he spoke these last words, his voice trembled in his throat; it was now lost in his tears. He sat with his face half turned from Harley, as if he would have hid the sorrow which he felt. Harley was in the same attitude himself; he durst not meet his eye with a tear, but gathering his stifled breath, Let me entreat you, sir, said he, to hope better things. The world is ever tyrannical; it warps our sorrows to edge them with keener affliction. Let us not be slaves to the names it affixes to motive or to action. I know an ingenuous mind cannot help feeling when they sting. But there are considerations by which it may be overcome. Its fantastic ideas vanish as they rise; they teach us to look beyond it.      A FRAGMENT. SHOWING HIS SUCCESS WITH THE BARONET.   THE card he received was in the politest style in which disappointment could be communicated. The baronet was under a necessity of giving up his application for Mr. Harley, as he was informed that the lease was engaged for a gentleman who had long served His Majesty in another capacity, and whose merit had entitled him to the first lucrative thing that should be vacant. Even Harley could not murmur at such a disposal. Perhaps, said he to himself, some warworn officer, who, like poor Atkins, had been neglected from reasons which merited the highest advancement; whose honour could not stoop to solicit the preferment he deserved; perhaps, with a family, taught the principles of delicacy, without the means of supporting it; a wife and childrengracious heaven! whom my wishes would have deprived of bread He was interrupted in his reverie by some one tapping him on the shoulder, and, on turning round, he discovered it to be the very man who had explained to him the condition of his gay companion at Hyde Park Corner. I am glad to see you, sir, said he; I believe we are fellows in disappointment. Harley started, and said that he was at a loss to understand him. Pooh! you need not be so shy, answered the other; every one for himself is but fair, and I had much rather you had got it than the rascally gauger. Harley still protested his ignorance of what he meant. Why, the lease of Bancroft Manor; had not you been applying for it? I confess I was, replied Harley; but I cannot conceive how you should be interested in the matter. Why, I was making interest for it myself, said he, and I think I had some title. I voted for this same baronet at the last election, and made some of my friends do so too; though I would not have you imagine that I sold my vote. No, I scorn it, let me tell you I scorn it; but I thought as how this man was staunch and true, and I find hes but a doublefaced fellow after all, and speechifies in the House for any side he hopes to make most by. Oh, how many fine speeches and squeezings by the hand we had of him on the canvas! And if ever I shall be so happy as to have an opportunity of serving you. A murrain on the smoothtongued knave, and after all to get it for this pimp of a gauger. The gauger! there must be some mistake, said Harley. He writes me, that it was engaged for one whose long services Services! interrupted the other; you shall hear. Services! Yes, his sister arrived in town a few days ago, and is now sempstress to the baronet. A plague on all rogues, says honest Sam Wrightson. I shall but just drink damnation to them tonight, in a crowns worth of Ashleys, and leave London tomorrow by sunrise. I shall leave it too, said Harley; and so he accordingly did. In passing through Piccadilly, he had observed, on the window of an inn, a notification of the departure of a stagecoach for a place in his road homewards; in the way back to his lodgings, he took a seat in it for his return. CHAPTER XXXIII. HE LEAVES LONDONCHARACTERS IN A STAGECOACH. THE company in the stagecoach consisted of a grocer and his wife, who were going to pay a visit to some of their country friends; a young officer, who took this way of marching to quarters; a middleaged gentlewoman, who had been hired as housekeeper to some family in the country; and an elderly, welllooking man, with a remarkable oldfashioned periwig. Harley, upon entering, discovered but one vacant seat, next the grocers wife, which, from his natural shyness of temper, he made no scruple to occupy, however aware that riding backwards always disagreed with him. Though his inclination to physiognomy had met with some rubs in the metropolis, he had not yet lost his attachment to that science. He set himself, therefore, to examine, as usual, the countenances of his companions. Here, indeed, he was not long in doubt as to the preference; for besides that the elderly gentleman, who sat opposite to him, had features by nature more expressive of good dispositions, there was something in that periwig we mentioned, peculiarly attractive of Harleys regard. He had not been long employed in these speculations, when he found himself attacked with that faintish sickness, which was the natural consequence of his situation in the coach. The paleness of his countenance was first observed by the housekeeper, who immediately made offer of her smelling bottle, which Harley, however, declined, telling at the same time the cause of his uneasiness. The gentleman, on the opposite side of the coach, now first turned his eye from the side direction in which it had been fixed, and begged Harley to exchange places with him, expressing his regret that he had not made the proposal before. Harley thanked him, and, upon being assured that both seats were alike to him, was about to accept of his offer, when the young gentleman of the sword, putting on an arch look, laid hold of the others arm. So, my old boy, said he, I find you have still some youthful blood about you, but, with your leave, I will do myself the honour of sitting by this lady; and took his place accordingly. The grocer stared him as full in the face as his own short neck would allow, and his wife, who was a little, roundfaced woman, with a great deal of colour in her cheeks, drew up at the compliment that was paid her, looking first at the officer, and then at the housekeeper. This incident was productive of some discourse; for before, though there was sometimes a cough or a hem from the grocer, and the officer now and then hummd a few notes of a song, there had not a single word passed the lips of any of the company. Mrs. Grocer observed, how illconvenient it was for people, who could not be drove backwards, to travel in a stage. This brought on a dissertation on stagecoaches in general, and the pleasure of keeping a chay of ones own; which led to another, on the great riches of Mr. Deputy Bearskin, who, according to her, had once been of that industrious order of youths who sweep the crossings of the streets for the conveniency of passengers, but, by various fortunate accidents, had now acquired an immense fortune, and kept his coach and a dozen livery servants. All this afforded ample fund for conversation, if conversation it might be called, that was carried on solely by the beforementioned lady, nobody offering to interrupt her, except that the officer sometimes signified his approbation by a variety of oaths, a sort of phraseology in which he seemed extremely versant. She appealed indeed, frequently, to her husband for the authenticity of certain facts, of which the good man as often protested his total ignorance; but as he was always called fool, or something very like it, for his pains, he at last contrived to support the credit of his wife without prejudice to his conscience, and signified his assent by a noise not unlike the grunting of that animal which in shape and fatness he somewhat resembled. The housekeeper, and the old gentleman who sat next to Harley, were now observed to be fast asleep, at which the lady, who had been at such pains to entertain them, muttered some words of displeasure, and, upon the officers whispering to smoke the old put, both she and her husband pursd up their mouths into a contemptuous smile. Harley looked sternly on the grocer. You are come, sir, said he, to those years when you might have learned some reverence for age. As for this young man, who has so lately escaped from the nursery, he may be allowed to divert himself. Damme, sir! said the officer, do you call me young? striking up the front of his hat, and stretching forward on his seat, till his face almost touched Harleys. It is probable, however, that he discovered something there which tended to pacify him, for, on the ladies entreating them not to quarrel, he very soon resumed his posture and calmness together, and was rather less profuse of his oaths during the rest of the journey. It is possible the old gentleman had waked time enough to hear the last part of this discourse; at least (whether from that cause, or that he too was a physiognomist) he wore a look remarkably complacent to Harley, who, on his part, shewed a particular observance of him. Indeed, they had soon a better opportunity of making their acquaintance, as the coach arrived that night at the town where the officers regiment lay, and the places of destination of their other fellowtravellers, it seems, were at no great distance, for, next morning, the old gentleman and Harley were the only passengers remaining. When they left the inn in the morning, Harley, pulling out a little pocketbook, began to examine the contents, and make some corrections with a pencil. This, said he, turning to his companion, is an amusement with which I sometimes pass idle hours at an inn. These are quotations from those humble poets, who trust their fame to the brittle tenure of windows and drinkingglasses. From our inn, returned the gentleman, a stranger might imagine that we were a nation of poets; machines, at least, containing poetry, which the motion of a journey emptied of their contents. Is it from the vanity of being thought geniuses, or a mere mechanical imitation of the custom of others, that we are tempted to scrawl rhyme upon such places? Whether vanity is the cause of our becoming rhymesters or not, answered Harley, it is a pretty certain effect of it. An old man of my acquaintance, who deals in apothegms, used to say that he had known few men without envy, few wits without illnature, and no poet without vanity; and I believe his remark is a pretty just one. Vanity has been immemorially the charter of poets. In this, the ancients were more honest than we are. The old poets frequently make boastful predictions of the immortality their works shall acquire them; ours, in their dedications and prefatory discourses, employ much eloquence to praise their patrons, and much seeming modesty to condemn themselves, or at least to apologise for their productions to the world. But this, in my opinion, is the more assuming manner of the two; for of all the garbs I ever saw Pride put on, that of her humility is to me the most disgusting. It is natural enough for a poet to be vain, said the stranger. The little worlds which he raises, the inspiration which he claims, may easily be productive of selfimportance; though that inspiration is fabulous, it brings on egotism, which is always the parent of vanity. It may be supposed, answered Harley, that inspiration of old was an article of religious faith; in modern times it may be translated a propensity to compose; and I believe it is not always most readily found where the poets have fixed its residence, amidst groves and plains, and the scenes of pastoral retirement. The mind may be there unbent from the cares of the world, but it will frequently, at the same time, be unnerved from any great exertion. It will feel imperfect, and wander without effort over the regions of reflection. There is at least, said the stranger, one advantage in the poetical inclination, that it is an incentive to philanthropy. There is a certain poetic ground, on which a man cannot tread without feelings that enlarge the heart: the causes of human depravity vanish before the romantic enthusiasm he professes, and many who are not able to reach the Parnassian heights, may yet approach so near as to be bettered by the air of the climate. I have always thought so, replied Harley; but this is an argument with the prudent against it: they urge the danger of unfitness for the world. I allow it, returned the other; but I believe it is not always rightfully imputed to the bent for poetry: that is only one effect of the common cause.Jack, says his father, is indeed no scholar; nor could all the drubbings from his master ever bring him one step forward in his accidence or syntax: but I intend him for a merchant.Allow the same indulgence to Tom.Tom reads Virgil and Horace when he should be casting accounts; and but tother day he pawned his greatcoat for an edition of Shakespeare.But Tom would have been as he is, though Virgil and Horace had never been born, though Shakespeare had died a linkboy; for his nurse will tell you, that when he was a child, he broke his rattle, to discover what it was that sounded within it; and burnt the sticks of his gocart, because he liked to see the sparkling of timber in the fire.Tis a sad case; but what is to be done?Why, Jack shall make a fortune, dine on venison, and drink claret.Ay, but TomTom shall dine with his brother, when his pride will let him; at other times, he shall bless God over a halfpint of ale and a Welshrabbit; and both shall go to heaven as they may.Thats a poor prospect for Tom, says the father.To go to heaven! I cannot agree with him. Perhaps, said Harley, we nowadays discourage the romantic turn a little too much. Our boys are prudent too soon. Mistake me not, I do not mean to blame them for want of levity or dissipation; but their pleasures are those of hackneyed vice, blunted to every finer emotion by the repetition of debauch; and their desire of pleasure is warped to the desire of wealth, as the means of procuring it. The immense riches acquired by individuals have erected a standard of ambition, destructive of private morals, and of public virtue. The weaknesses of vice are left us; but the most allowable of our failings we are taught to despise. Love, the passion most natural to the sensibility of youth, has lost the plaintive dignity he once possessed, for the unmeaning simper of a dangling coxcomb; and the only serious concern, that of a dowry, is settled, even amongst the beardless leaders of the dancingschool. The Frivolous and the Interested (might a satirist say) are the characteristical features of the age; they are visible even in the essays of our philosophers. They laugh at the pedantry of our fathers, who complained of the times in which they lived; they are at pains to persuade us how much those were deceived; they pride themselves in defending things as they find them, and in exploding the barren sounds which had been reared into motives for action. To this their style is suited; and the manly tone of reason is exchanged for perpetual efforts at sneer and ridicule. This I hold to be an alarming crisis in the corruption of a state; when not only is virtue declined, and vice prevailing, but when the praises of virtue are forgotten, and the infamy of vice unfelt. They soon after arrived at the next inn upon the route of the stagecoach, when the stranger told Harley, that his brothers house, to which he was returning, lay at no great distance, and he must therefore unwillingly bid him adieu. I should like, said Harley, taking his hand, to have some word to remember so much seeming worth by: my name is Harley. I shall remember it, answered the old gentleman, in my prayers; mine is Silton. And Silton indeed it was! Ben Silton himself! Once more, my honoured friend, farewell!Born to be happy without the world, to that peaceful happiness which the world has not to bestow! Envy never scowled on thy life, nor hatred smiled on thy grave. CHAPTER XXXIV. HE MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. WHEN the stagecoach arrived at the place of its destination, Harley began to consider how he should proceed the remaining part of his journey. He was very civilly accosted by the master of the inn, who offered to accommodate him either with a postchaise or horses, to any distance he had a mind: but as he did things frequently in a way different from what other people call natural, he refused these offers, and set out immediately afoot, having first put a spare shirt in his pocket, and given directions for the forwarding of his portmanteau. This was a method of travelling which he was accustomed to take: it saved the trouble of provision for any animal but himself, and left him at liberty to chose his quarters, either at an inn, or at the first cottage in which he saw a face he liked: nay, when he was not peculiarly attracted by the reasonable creation, he would sometimes consort with a species of inferior rank, and lay himself down to sleep by the side of a rock, or on the banks of a rivulet. He did few things without a motive, but his motives were rather eccentric: and the useful and expedient were terms which he held to be very indefinite, and which therefore he did not always apply to the sense in which they are commonly understood. The sun was now in his decline, and the evening remarkably serene, when he entered a hollow part of the road, which winded between the surrounding banks, and seamed the sward in different lines, as the choice of travellers had directed them to tread it. It seemed to be little frequented now, for some of those had partly recovered their former verdure. The scene was such as induced Harley to stand and enjoy it; when, turning round, his notice was attracted by an object, which the fixture of his eye on the spot he walked had before prevented him from observing. An old man, who from his dress seemed to have been a soldier, lay fast asleep on the ground; a knapsack rested on a stone at his right hand, while his staff and brasshilted sword were crossed at his left. Harley looked on him with the most earnest attention. He was one of those figures which Salvator would have drawn; nor was the surrounding scenery unlike the wildness of that painters backgrounds. The banks on each side were covered with fantastic shrubwood, and at a little distance, on the top of one of them, stood a fingerpost, to mark the directions of two roads which diverged from the point where it was placed. A rock, with some dangling wild flowers, jutted out above where the soldier lay; on which grew the stump of a large tree, white with age, and a single twisted branch shaded his face as he slept. His face had the marks of manly comeliness impaired by time; his forehead was not altogether bald, but its hairs might have been numbered; while a few white locks behind crossed the brown of his neck with a contrast the most venerable to a mind like Harleys. Thou art old, said he to himself; but age has not brought thee rest for its infirmities; I fear those silver hairs have not found shelter from thy country, though that neck has been bronzed in its service. The stranger waked. He looked at Harley with the appearance of some confusion: it was a pain the latter knew too well to think of causing in another; he turned and went on. The old man readjusted his knapsack, and followed in one of the tracks on the opposite side of the road. When Harley heard the tread of his feet behind him, he could not help stealing back a glance at his fellowtraveller. He seemed to bend under the weight of his knapsack; he halted on his walk, and one of his arms was supported by a sling, and lay motionless across his breast. He had that steady look of sorrow, which indicates that its owner has gazed upon his griefs till he has forgotten to lament them; yet not without those streaks of complacency which a good mind will sometimes throw into the countenance, through all the incumbent load of its depression. He had now advanced nearer to Harley, and, with an uncertain sort of voice, begged to know what it was oclock; I fear, said he, sleep has beguiled me of my time, and I shall hardly have light enough left to carry me to the end of my journey. Father! said Harley (who by this time found the romantic enthusiasm rising within him) how far do you mean to go? But a little way, sir, returned the other; and indeed it is but a little way I can manage now: tis just four miles from the height to the village, thither I am going. I am going there too, said Harley; we may make the road shorter to each other. You seem to have served your country, sir, to have served it hardly too; tis a character I have the highest esteem for.I would not be impertinently inquisitive; but there is that in your appearance which excites my curiosity to know something more of you; in the meantime, suffer me to carry that knapsack. The old man gazed on him; a tear stood in his eye! Young gentleman, said he, you are too good; may Heaven bless you for an old mans sake, who has nothing but his blessing to give! but my knapsack is so familiar to my shoulders, that I should walk the worse for wanting it; and it would be troublesome to you, who have not been used to its weight. Far from it, answered Harley, I should tread the lighter; it would be the most honourable badge I ever wore. Sir, said the stranger, who had looked earnestly in Harleys face during the last part of his discourse, is act your name Harley? It is, replied he; I am ashamed to say I have forgotten yours. You may well have forgotten my face, said the stranger;tis a long time since you saw it; but possibly you may remember something of old Edwards. Edwards! cried Harley, oh! heavens! and sprung to embrace him; let me clasp those knees on which I have sat so often: Edwards!I shall never forget that fireside, round which I have been so happy! But where, where have you been? where is Jack? where is your daughter? How has it fared with them, when fortune, I fear, has been so unkind to you? Tis a long tale, replied Edwards; but I will try to tell it you as we walk. When you were at school in the neighbourhood, you remember me at Southhill: that farm had been possessed by my father, grandfather, and greatgrandfather, which last was a younger brother of that very mans ancestor, who is now lord of the manor. I thought I managed it, as they had done, with prudence; I paid my rent regularly as it became due, and had always as much behind as gave bread to me and my children. But my last lease was out soon after you left that part of the country; and the squire, who had lately got a Londonattorney for his steward, would not renew it, because, he said, he did not chuse to have any farm under 300 a year value on his estate; but offered to give me the preference on the same terms with another, if I chose to take the one he had marked out, of which mine was a part. What could I do, Mr. Harley? I feared the undertaking was too great for me; yet to leave, at my age, the house I had lived in from my cradle! I could not, Mr. Harley, I could not; there was not a tree about it that I did not look on as my father, my brother, or my child: so I even ran the risk, and took the squires offer of the whole. But had soon reason to repent of my bargain; the steward had taken care that my former farm should be the best land of the division: I was obliged to hire more servants, and I could not have my eye over them all; some unfavourable seasons followed one another, and I found my affairs entangling on my hands. To add to my distress, a considerable cornfactor turned bankrupt with a sum of mine in his possession: I failed paying my rent so punctually as I was wont to do, and the same steward had my stock taken in execution in a few days after. So, Mr. Harley, there was an end of my prosperity. However, there was as much produced from the sale of my effects as paid my debts and saved me from a jail: I thank God I wronged no man, and the world could never charge me with dishonesty. Had you seen us, Mr. Harley, when we were turned out of Southhill, I am sure you would have wept at the sight. You remember old Trusty, my shag housedog; I shall never forget it while I live; the poor creature was blind with age, and could scarce crawl after us to the door; he went however as far as the gooseberrybush that you may remember stood on the left side of the yard; he was wont to bask in the sun there; when he had reached that spot, he stopped; we went on: I called to him; he wagged his tail, but did not stir: I called again; he lay down: I whistled, and cried Trusty; he gave a short howl, and died! I could have lain down and died too; but God gave me strength to live for my children. The old man now paused a moment to take breath. He eyed Harleys face; it was bathed with tears: the story was grown familiar to himself; he dropped one tear, and no more. Though I was poor, continued he, I was not altogether without credit. A gentleman in the neighbourhood, who had a small farm unoccupied at the time, offered to let me have it, on giving security for the rent; which I made shift to procure. It was a piece of ground which required management to make anything of; but it was nearly within the compass of my sons labour and my own. We exerted all our industry to bring it into some heart. We began to succeed tolerably and lived contented on its produce, when an unlucky accident brought us under the displeasure of a neighbouring justice of the peace, and broke all our familyhappiness again. My son was a remarkable good shooter; hehad always kept a pointer on our former farm, and thought no harm in doing so now; when one day, having sprung a covey in our own ground, the dog, of his own accord, followed them into the justices. My son laid down his gun, and went after his dog to bring him back: the gamekeeper, who had marked the birds, came up, and seeing the pointer, shot him just as my son approached. The creature fell; my son ran up to him: he died with a complaining sort of cry at his masters feet. Jack could bear it no longer; but, flying at the gamekeeper, wrenched his gun out of his hand, and with the butt end of it, felled him to the ground. He had scarce got home, when a constable came with a warrant, and dragged him to prison; there he lay, for the justices would not take bail, till he was tried at the quartersessions for the assault and battery. His fine was hard upon us to pay: we contrived however to live the worse for it, and make up the loss by our frugality: but the justice was not content with that punishment, and soon after had an opportunity of punishing us indeed. An officer with pressorders came down to our county, and having met with the justices, agreed that they should pitch on a certain number, who could most easily be spared from the county, of whom he would take care to clear it: my sons name was in the justices list. Twas on a Christmas eve, and the birthday too of my sons little boy. The night was piercing cold, and it blew a storm, with showers of hail and snow. We had made up a cheering fire in an inner room; I sat before it in my wickerchair; blessing providence, that had still left a shelter for me and my children. My sons two little ones were holding their gambols around us; my heart warmed at the sight: I brought a bottle of my best ale, and all our misfortunes were forgotten. It had long been our custom to play a game at blind mans buff on that night, and it was not omitted now; so to it we fell, I, and my son, and his wife, the daughter of a neighbouring farmer, who happened to be with us at the time, the two children, and an old maid servant, who had lived with me from a child. The lot fell on my son to be blindfolded: we had continued some time in our game, when he groped his way into an outer room in pursuit of some of us, who, he imagined, had taken shelter there; we kept snug in our places, and enjoyed his mistake. He had not been long there, when he was suddenly seized from behind; I shall have you now, said he, and turned about. Shall you so, master? answered the ruffian, who had laid hold of him; we shall make you play at another sort of game by and by.At these words Harley started with a convulsive sort of motion, and grasping Edwardss sword, drew it half out of the scabbard, with a look of the most frantic wildness. Edwards gently replaced it in its sheath, and went on with his relation. On hearing these words in a strange voice, we all rushed out to discover the cause; the room by this time was almost full of the gang. My daughterinlaw fainted at the sight; the maid and I ran to assist her, while my poor son remained motionless, gazing by turns on his children and their mother. We soon recovered her to life, and begged her to retire and wait the issue of the affair; but she flew to her husband, and clung round him in an agony of terror and grief. In the gang was one of a smoother aspect, whom, by his dress, we discovered to be a serjeant of foot: he came up to me, and told me, that my son had his choice of the sea or land service, whispering at the same time that, if he chose the land, he might get off, on procuring him another man, and paying a certain sum for his freedom. The money we could just muster up in the house, by the assistance of the maid, who produced, in a green bag, all the little savings of her service; but the man we could not expect to find. My daughterinlaw gazed upon her children with a look of the wildest despair: My poor infants! said she, your father is forced from you; who shall now labour for your bread? or must your mother beg for herself and you? I prayed her to be patient; but comfort I had none to give her. At last, calling the serjeant aside, I asked him, If I was too old to be accepted in place of my son? Why, I dont know, said he; you are rather old to be sure, but yet the money may do much. I put the money in his hand, and coming back to my children, Jack, said I, you are free; live to give your wife and these little ones bread; I will go, my child, in your stead; I have but little life to lose, and if I staid, I should add one to the wretches you left behind. No, replied my son, I am not that coward you imagine me; heaven forbid that my fathers grey hairs should be so exposed, while I sat idle at home; I am young and able to endure much, and God will take care of you and my family. Jack, said I, I will put an end to this matter, you have never hitherto disobeyed me; I will not be contradicted in this; stay at home, I charge you, and, for my sake, be kind to my children. Our parting, Mr. Harley, I cannot describe to you; it was the first time we ever had parted: the very pressgang could scarce keep from tears; but the serjeant, who had seemed the softest before, was now the least moved of them all. He conducted me to a party of newraised recruits, who lay at a village in the neighbourhood; and we soon after joined the regiment. I had not been long with it when we were ordered to the East Indies, where I was soon made a serjeant, and might have picked up some money, if my heart had been as hard as some others were; but my nature was never of that kind, that could think of getting rich at the expense of my conscience. Amongst our prisoners was an old Indian, whom some of our officers supposed to have a treasure hidden somewhere; which is no uncommon practice in that country. They pressed him to discover it. He declared he had none, but that would not satisfy them, so they ordered him to be tied to a stake, and suffer fifty lashes every morning till he should learn to speak out, as they said. Oh! Mr. Harley, had you seen him, as I did, with his hands bound behind him, suffering in silence, while the big drops trickled down his shrivelled cheeks and wet his grey beard, which some of the inhuman soldiers plucked in scorn! I could not bear it, I could not for my soul, and one morning, when the rest of the guard were out of the way, I found means to let him escape. I was tried by a courtmartial for negligence of my post, and ordered, in compassion of my age, and having got this wound in my arm and that in my leg in the service, only to suffer three hundred lashes and be turned out of the regiment; but my sentence was mitigated as to the lashes, and I had only two hundred. When I had suffered these I was turned out of the camp, and had betwixt three and four hundred miles to travel before I could reach a seaport, without guide to conduct me, or money to buy me provisions by the way. I set out, however, resolved to walk as far as I could, and then to lay myself down and die. But I had scarce gone a mile when I was met by the Indian whom I had delivered. He pressed me in his arms, and kissed the marks of the lashes on my back a thousand times; he led me to a little hut, where some friend of his dwelt, and after I was recovered of my wounds conducted me so far on my journey himself, and sent another Indian to guide me through the rest. When we parted he pulled out a purse with two hundred pieces of gold in it. Take this, said he, my dear preserver, it is all I have been able to procure. I begged him not to bring himself to poverty for my sake, who should probably have no need of it long, but he insisted on my accepting it. He embraced me. You are an Englishman, said he, but the Great Spirit has given you an Indian heart, may He bear up the weight of your old age, and blunt the arrow that brings it rest! We parted, and not long after I made shift to get my passage to England. Tis but about a week since I landed, and I am going to end my days in the arms of my son. This sum may be of use to him and his children, tis all the value I put upon it. I thank Heaven I never was covetous of wealth; I never had much, but was always so happy as to be content with my little. When Edwards had ended his relation, Harley stood a while looking at him in silence; at last he pressed him in his arms, and when he had given vent to the fulness of his heart by a shower of tears, Edwards, said he, let me hold thee to my bosom, let me imprint the virtue of thy sufferings on my soul. Come, my honoured veteran! let me endeavour to soften the last days of a life, worn out in the service of humanity; call me also thy son, and let me cherish thee as a father. Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own suffering had scarced forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy; he could not speak his gratitude, but by some short exclamations of blessings upon Harley. CHAPTER XXXV. HE MISSES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.AN ADVENTURE CONSEQUENT UPON IT. WHEN they had arrived within a little way of the village they journeyed to, Harley stopped short, and looked steadfastly on the mouldering walls of a ruined house that stood on the road side. Oh, heavens! he cried, what do I see: silent, unroofed, and desolate! Are all thy gay tenants gone? do I hear their hum no more Edwards, look there, look there? the scene of my infant joys, my earliest friendships, laid waste and ruinous! That was the very school where I was boarded when you were at Southhill; tis but a twelvemonth since I saw it standing, and its benches filled with cherubs: that opposite side of the road was the green on which they sported; see it now ploughed up! I would have given fifty times its value to have saved it from the sacrilege of that plough. Dear sir, replied Edwards, perhaps they have left it from choice, and may have got another spot as good. They cannot, said Harley, they cannot; I shall never see the sward covered with its daisies, nor pressed by the dance of the dear innocents: I shall never see that stump decked with the garlands which their little hands had gathered. These two long stones, which now lie at the foot of it, were once the supports of a hut I myself assisted to rear: I have sat on the sods within it, when we had spread our banquet of apples before us, and been more blessedOh! Edwards, infinitely more blessed, than ever I shall be again. Just then a woman passed them on the road, and discovered some signs of wonder at the attitude of Harley, who stood, with his hands folded together, looking with a moistened eye on the fallen pillars of the hut. He was too much entranced in thought to observe her at all, but Edwards, civilly accosting her, desired to know if that had not been the schoolhouse, and how it came into the condition in which they now saw it. Alack a day! said she, it was the schoolhouse indeed; but to be sure, sir, the squire has pulled it down because it stood in the way of his prospects. What! how! prospects! pulled down! cried Harley. Yes, to be sure, sir; and the green, where the children used to play, he has ploughed up, because, he said, they hurt his fence on the other side of it. Curses on his narrow heart, cried Harley, that could violate a right so sacred! Heaven blast the wretch! And from his derogate body never spring A babe to honour him! But I need not, Edwards, I need not (recovering himself a little), he is cursed enough already: to him the noblest source of happiness is denied, and the cares of his sordid soul shall gnaw it, while thou sittest over a brown crust, smiling on those mangled limbs that have saved thy son and his children! If you want anything with the schoolmistress, sir, said the woman, I can show you the way to her house. He followed her without knowing whither he went. They stopped at the door of a snug habitation, where sat an elderly woman with a boy and a girl before her, each of whom held a supper of bread and milk in their hands. There, sir, is the schoolmistress. Madam, said Harley, was not an old venerable man schoolmaster here some time ago? Yes, sir, he was, poor man; the loss of his former schoolhouse, I believe, broke his heart, for he died soon after it was taken down, and as another has not yet been found, I have that charge in the meantime. And this boy and girl, I presume, are your pupils? Ay, sir; they are poor orphans, put under my care by the parish, and more promising children I never saw. Orphans? said Harley. Yes, sir, of honest creditable parents as any in the parish, and it is a shame for some folks to forget their relations at a time when they have most need to remember them. Madam, said Harley, let us never forget that we are all relations. He kissed the children. Their father, sir, continued she, was a farmer here in the neighbourhood, and a sober industrious man he was; but nobody can help misfortunes: what with bad crops, and bad debts, which are worse, his affairs went to wreck, and both he and his wife died of broken hearts. And a sweet couple they were, sir; there was not a properer man to look on in the county than John Edwards, and so indeed were all the Edwardses. What Edwardses? cried the old soldier hastily. The Edwardses of Southhill, and a worthy family they were. Southhill! said he, in a languid voice, and fell back into the arms of the astonished Harley. The schoolmistress ran for some waterand a smellingbottle, with the assistance of which they soon recovered the unfortunate Edwards. He stared wildly for some time, then folding his orphan grandchildren in his arms, Oh! my children, my children, he cried, have I found you thus? My poor Jack, art thou gone? I thought thou shouldst have carried thy fathers grey hairs to the grave! and these little oneshis tears choked his utterance, and he fell again on the necks of the children. My dear old man, said Harley, Providence has sent you to relieve them; it will bless me if I can be the means of assisting you. Yes, indeed, sir, answered the boy; father, when he was adying, bade God bless us, and prayed that if grandfather lived he might send him to support us. Where did they lay my boy? said Edwards. In the Old Churchyard, replied the woman, hard by his mother. I will show it you, answered the boy, for I have wept over it many a time when first I came amongst strange folks. He took the old mans hand, Harley laid hold of his sisters, and they walked in silence to the churchyard. There was an old stone, with the corner broken off, and some letters, halfcovered with moss, to denote the names of the dead: there was a cyphered R. E. plainer than the rest; it was the tomb they sought. Here it is, grandfather, said the boy. Edwards gazed upon it without uttering a word: the girl, who had only sighed before, now wept outright; her brother sobbed, but he stifled his sobbing. I have told sister, said he, that she should not take it so to heart; she can knit already, and I shall soon be able to dig, we shall not starve, sister, indeed we shall not, nor shall grandfather neither. The girl cried afresh; Harley kissed off her tears as they flowed, and wept between every kiss. CHAPTER XXXVI. HE RETURNS HOME.A DESCRIPTION OF HIS RETINUE. IT was with some difficulty that Harley prevailed on the old man to leave the spot where the remains of his son were laid. At last, with the assistance of the schoolmistress, he prevailed; and she accommodated Edwards and him with beds in her house, there being nothing like an inn nearer than the distance of some miles. In the morning Harley persuaded Edwards to come with the children to his house, which was distant but a short days journey. The boy walked in his grandfathers hand; and the name of Edwards procured him a neighbouring farmers horse, on which a servant mounted, with the girl on a pillow before him. With this train Harley returned to the abode of his fathers: and we cannot but think, that his enjoyment was as great as if he had arrived from the tour of Europe with a Swiss valet for his companion, and half a dozen snuffboxes, with invisible hinges, in his pocket. But we take our ideas from sounds which folly has invented; Fashion, Bon ton, and Vert, are the names of certain idols, to which we sacrifice the genuine pleasures of the soul: in this world of semblance, we are contented with personating happiness; to feel it is an art beyond us. It was otherwise with Harley; he ran upstairs to his aunt with the history of his fellowtravellers glowing on his lips. His aunt was an economist; but she knew the pleasure of doing charitable things, and withal was fond of her nephew, and solicitous to oblige him. She received old Edwards therefore with a look of more complacency than is perhaps natural to maiden ladies of threescore, and was remarkably attentive to his grandchildren: she roasted apples with her own hands for their supper, and made up a little bed beside her own for the girl. Edwards made some attempts towards an acknowledgment for these favours; but his young friend stopped them in their beginnings. Whosoever receiveth any of these children, said his aunt; for her acquaintance with her Bible was habitual. Early next morning Harley stole into the room where Edwards lay: he expected to have found him abed, but in this he was mistaken: the old man had risen, and was leaning over his sleeping grandson, with the tears flowing down his cheeks. At first he did not perceive Harley; when he did, he endeavoured to hide his grief, and crossing his eyes with his hand expressed his surprise at seeing him so early astir. I was thinking of you, said Harley, and your children: I learned last night that a small farm of mine in the neighbourhood is now vacant: if you will occupy it I shall gain a good neighbour and be able in some measure to repay the notice you took of me when a boy, and as the furniture of the house is mine, it will be so much trouble saved. Edwardss tears gushed afresh, and Harley led him to see the place he intended for him. The house upon this farm was indeed little better than a hut; its situation, however, was pleasant, and Edwards, assisted by the beneficence of Harley, set about improving its neatness and convenience. He staked out a piece of the green before for a garden, and Peter, who acted in Harleys family as valet, butler, and gardener, had orders to furnish him with parcels of the different seeds he chose to sow in it. I have seen his master at work in this little spot with his coat off, and his dibble in his hand: it was a scene of tranquil virtue to have stopped an angel on his errands of mercy! Harley had contrived to lead a little bubbling brook through a green walk in the middle of the ground, upon which he had erected a mill in miniature for the diversion of Edwardss infant grandson, and made shift in its construction to introduce a pliant bit of wood that answered with its fairy clack to the murmuring of the rill that turned it. I have seen him stand, listening to these mingled sounds, with his eye fixed on the boy, and the smile of conscious satisfaction on his cheek, while the old man, with a look half turned to Harley and half to heaven, breathed an ejaculation of gratitude and piety. Father of mercies! I also would thank thee that not only hast thou assigned eternal rewards to virtue, but that, even in this bad world, the lines of our duty and our happiness are so frequently woven together. A FRAGMENT. THE MAN OF FEELING TALKS OF WHAT HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND.AN INCIDENT.     EDWARDS, said he, I have a proper regard for the prosperity of my country: every native of it appropriates to himself some share of the power, or the fame, which, as a nation, it acquires, but I cannot throw off the man so much as to rejoice at our conquests in India. You tell me of immense territories subject to the English: I cannot think of their possessions without being led to inquire by what right they possess them. They came there as traders, bartering the commodities they brought for others which their purchasers could spare; and however great their profits were, they were then equitable. But what title have the subjects of another kingdom to establish an empire in India? to give laws to a country where the inhabitants received them on the terms of friendly commerce? You say they are happier under our regulations than the tyranny of their own petty princes. I must doubt it, from the conduct of those by whom these regulations have been made. They have drained the treasuries of Nabobs, who must fill them by oppressing the industry of their subjects. Nor is this to be wondered at, when we consider the motive upon which those gentlemen do not deny their going to India. The fame of conquest, barbarous as that motive is, is but a secondary consideration: there are certain stations in wealth to which the warriors of the East aspire. It is there, indeed, where the wishes of their friends assign them eminence, where the question of their country is pointed at their return. When shall I see a commander return from India in the pride of honourable poverty? You describe the victories they have gained; they are sullied by the cause in which they fought: you enumerate the spoils of those victories; they are covered with the blood of the vanquished. Could you tell me of some conqueror giving peace and happiness to the conquered? did he accept the gifts of their princes to use them for the comfort of those whose fathers, sons, or husbands, fell in battle? did he use his power to gain security and freedom to the regions of oppression and slavery? did he endear the British name by examples of generosity, which the most barbarous or most depraved are rarely able to resist? did he return with the consciousness of duty discharged to his country, and humanity to his fellowcreatures? did he return with no lace on his coat, no slaves in his retinue, no chariot at his door, and no burgundy at his table?these were laurels which princes might envywhich an honest man would not condemn! Your maxims, Mr. Harley, are certainly right, said Edwards. I am not capable of arguing with you; but I imagine there are great temptations in a great degree of riches, which it is no easy matter to resist: those a poor man like me cannot describe, because he never knew them; and perhaps I have reason to bless God that I never did; for then, it is likely, I should have withstood them no better than my neighbours. For you know, sir, that it is not the fashion now, as it was in former times, that I have read of in books, when your great generals died so poor, that they did not leave wherewithal to buy them a coffin; and people thought the better of their memories for it: if they did so nowadays, I question if any body, except yourself, and some few like you, would thank them. I am sorry, replied Harley, that there is so much truth in what you say; but however the general current of opinion may point, the feelings are not yet lost that applaud benevolence, and censure inhumanity. Let us endeavour to strengthen them in ourselves; and we, who live sequestered from the noise of the multitude, have better opportunities of listening undisturbed to their voice. They now approached the little dwelling of Edwards. A maidservant, whom he had hired to assist him in the care of his grandchildren met them a little way from the house: There is a young lady within with the children, said she. Edwards expressed his surprise at the visit: it was however not the less true; and we mean to account for it. This young lady then was no other than Miss Walton. She had heard the old mans history from Harley, as we have already related it. Curiosity, or some other motive, made her desirous to see his grandchildren; this she had an opportunity of gratifying soon, the children, in some of their walks, having strolled as far as her fathers avenue. She put several questions to both; she was delighted with the simplicity of their answers, and promised, that if they continued to be good children, and do as their grandfather bid them, she would soon see them again, and bring some present or other for their reward. This promise she had performed now: she came attended only by her maid, and brought with her a complete suit of green for the boy, and a chintz gown, a cap, and a suit of ribbons, for his sister. She had time enough, with her maids assistance, to equip them in their new habiliments before Harley and Edwards returned. The boy heard his grandfathers voice, and, with that silent joy which his present finery inspired, ran to the door to meet him: putting one hand in his, with the other pointed to his sister, See, said he, what Miss Walton has brought us!Edwards gazed on them. Harley fixed his eyes on Miss Walton; hers were turned to the ground;in Edwardss was a beamy moisture.He folded his hands togetherI cannot speak, young lady, said he, to thank you. Neither could Harley. There were a thousand sentiments; but they gushed so impetuously on his heart, that he could not utter a syllable.     CHAPTER XL. THE MAN OF FEELING JEALOUS. THE desire of communicating knowledge or intelligence, is an argument with those who hold that man is naturally a social animal. It is indeed one of the earliest propensities we discover; but it may be doubted whether the pleasure (for pleasure there certainly is) arising from it be not often more selfish than social: for we frequently observe the tidings of Ill communicated as eagerly as the annunciation of Good. Is it that we delight in observing the effects of the stronger passions? for we are all philosophers in this respect; and it is perhaps amongst the spectators at Tyburn that the most genuine are to be found. Was it from this motive that Peter came one morning into his masters room with a meaning face of recital? His master indeed did not at first observe it; for he was sitting with one shoe buckled, delineating portraits in the fire. I have brushed those clothes, sir, as you ordered me.Harley nodded his head but Peter observed that his hat wanted brushing too: his master nodded again. At last Peter bethought him that the fire needed stirring; and taking up the poker, demolished the turband head of a Saracen, while his master was seeking out a body for it. The morning is main cold, sir, said Peter. Is it? said Harley. Yes, sir; I have been as far as Tom Dowsons to fetch some barberries he had picked for Mrs. Margery. There was a rare junketting last night at Thomass among Sir Harry Bensons servants; he lay at Squire Waltons, but he would not suffer his servants to trouble the family: so, to be sure, they were all at Toms, and had a fiddle, and a hot supper in the big room where the justices meet about the destroying of hares and partridges, and them things; and Toms eyes looked so red and so bleared when I called him to get the barberries:And I hear as how Sir Harry is going to be married to Miss Walton.How! Miss Walton married! said Harley. Why, it maynt be true, sir, for all that; but Toms wife told it me, and to be sure the servants told her, and their master told them, as I guess, sir; but it maynt be true for all that, as I said before.Have done with your idle information, said Harley:Is my aunt come down into the parlour to breakfast?Yes, sir.Tell her Ill be with her immediately. When Peter was gone, he stood with his eyes fixed on the ground, and the last words of his intelligence vibrating in his ears. Miss Walton married! he sighedand walked down stairs, with his shoe as it was, and the buckle in his hand. His aunt, however, was pretty well accustomed to those appearances of absence; besides, that the natural gravity of her temper, which was commonly called into exertion by the care of her household concerns, was such as not easily to be discomposed by any circumstance of accidental impropriety. She too had been informed of the intended match between Sir Harry Benson and Miss Walton. I have been thinking, said she, that they are distant relations: for the greatgrandfather of this Sir Harry Benson, who was knight of the shire in the reign of Charles the First, and one of the cavaliers of those times, was married to a daughter of the Walton family. Harley answered drily, that it might be so; but that he never troubled himself about those matters. Indeed, said she, you are to blame, nephew, for not knowing a little more of them: before I was near your age I had sewed the pedigree of our family in a set of chairbottoms, that were made a present of to my grandmother, who was a very notable woman, and had a proper regard for gentility, Ill assure you; but nowadays it is money, not birth, that makes people respected; the more shame for the times. Harley was in no very good humour for entering into a discussion of this question; but he always entertained so much filial respect for his aunt, as to attend to her discourse. We blame the pride of the rich, said he, but are not we ashamed of our poverty? Why, one would not choose, replied his aunt, to make a much worse figure than ones neighbours; but, as I was saying before, the times (as my friend, Mrs. Dorothy Walton, observes) are shamefully degenerated in this respect. There was but tother day at Mr. Waltons, that fat fellows daughter, the London merchant, as he calls himself, though I have heard that he was little better than the keeper of a chandlers shop. We were leaving the gentlemen to go to tea. She had a hoop, forsooth, as large and as stiffand it showed a pair of bandy legs, as thick as twoI was nearer the door by an aprons length, and the pert hussy brushed by me, as who should say, Make way for your betters, and with one of her London bobsbut Mrs. Dorothy did not let her pass with it; for all the time of drinking tea, she spoke of the precedency of family, and the disparity there is between people who are come of something and your mushroom gentry who wear their coats of arms in their purses. Her indignation was interrupted by the arrival of her maid with a damask tablecloth, and a set of napkins, from the loom, which had been spun by her mistresss own hand. There was the family crest in each corner, and in the middle a view of the battle of Worcester, where one of her ancestors had been a captain in the kings forces; and with a sort of poetical licence in perspective, there was seen the Royal Oak, with more wig than leaves upon it. On all this the good lady was very copious, and took up the remaining intervals of filling tea, to describe its excellencies to Harley; adding, that she intended this as a present for his wife, when he should get one. He sighed and looked foolish, and commending the serenity of the day, walked out into the garden. He sat down on a little seat which commanded an extensive prospect round the house. He leaned on his hand, and scored the ground with his stick: Miss Walton married! said he; but what is that to me? May she be happy! her virtues deserve it; to me her marriage is otherwise indifferent: I had romantic dreams? they are fled?it is perfectly indifferent. Just at that moment he saw a servant with a knot of ribbons in his hat go into the house. His cheeks grew flushed at the sight! He kept his eye fixed for some time on the door by which he had entered, then starting to his feet, hastily followed him. When he approached the door of the kitchen where he supposed the man had entered, his heart throbbed so violently, that when he would have called Peter, his voice failed in the attempt. He stood a moment listening in this breathless state of palpitation: Peter came out by chance. Did your honour want any thing?Where is the servant that came just now from Mr. Waltons?From Mr. Waltons, sir! there is none of his servants here that I know of.Nor of Sir Harry Bensons?He did not wait for an answer; but having by this time observed the hat with its particoloured ornament hanging on a peg near the door, he pressed forwards into the kitchen, and addressing himself to a stranger whom he saw there, asked him, with no small tremor in his voice, If he had any commands for him? The man looked silly, and said, That he had nothing to trouble his honour with.Are not you a servant of Sir Harry Bensons?No, sir.Youll pardon me, young man; I judged by the favour in your hat.Sir, Im his majestys servant, God bless him! and these favours we always wear when we are recruiting.Recruiting! his eyes glistened at the word: he seized the soldiers hand, and shaking it violently, ordered Peter to fetch a bottle of his aunts best dram. The bottle was brought: You shall drink the kings health, said Harley, in a bumper.The king and your honour.Nay, you shall drink the kings health by itself; you may drink mine in another. Peter looked in his masters face, and filled with some little reluctance. Now to your mistress, said Harley; every soldier has a mistress. The man excused himselfTo your mistress! you cannot refuse it. Twas Mrs. Margerys best dram! Peter stood with the bottle a little inclined, but not so as to discharge a drop of its contents: Fill it, Peter, said his master, fill it to the brim. Peter filled it; and the soldier having named Suky Simpson, dispatched it in a twinkling. Thou art an honest fellow, said Harley, and I love thee; and shaking his hand again, desired Peter to make him his guest at dinner, and walked up into his room with a pace much quicker and more springy than usual. This agreeable disappointment, however, he was not long suffered to enjoy. The curate happened that day to dine with him: his visits, indeed, were more properly to the aunt than the nephew; and many of the intelligent ladies in the parish, who, like some very great philosophers, have the happy knack at accounting for everything, gave out that there was a particular attachment between them, which wanted only to be matured by some more years of courtship to end in the tenderest connection. In this conclusion, indeed, supposing the premises to have been true, they were somewhat justified by the known opinion of the lady, who frequently declared herself a friend to the ceremonial of former times, when a lover might have sighed seven years at his mistresss feet before he was allowed the liberty of kissing her hand. Tis true Mrs. Margery was now about her grand climacteric; no matter: that is just the age when we expect to grow younger. But I verily believe there was nothing in the report; the curates connection was only that of a genealogist; for in that character he was no way inferior to Mrs. Margery herself. He dealt also in the present times; for he was a politician and a newsmonger. He had hardly said grace after dinner, when he told Mrs. Margery that she might soon expect a pair of white gloves, as Sir Harry Benson, he was very well informed, was just going to be married to Miss Walton. Harley spilt the wine he was carrying to his mouth: he had time, however, to recollect himself before the curate had finished the different particulars of his intelligence, and summing up all the heroism he was master of, filled a bumper, and drank to Miss Walton. With all my heart, said the curate, the bride that is to be. Harley would have said bride too; but the word bride stuck in his throat. His confusion, indeed, was manifest; but the curate began to enter on some point of descent with Mrs. Margery, and Harley had very soon after an opportunity of leaving them, while they were deeply engaged in a question, whether the name of some great man in the time of Henry the Seventh was Richard or Humphrey. He did not see his aunt again till supper; the time between he spent in walking, like some troubled ghost, round the place where his treasure lay. He went as far as a little gate, that led into a copse near Mr. Waltons house, to which that gentleman had been so obliging as to let him have a key. He had just begun to open it when he saw, on a terrace below, Miss Walton walking with a gentleman in a ridingdress, whom he immediately guessed to be Sir Harry Benson. He stopped of a sudden; his hand shook so much that he could hardly turn the key; he opened the gate, however, and advanced a few paces. The ladys lapdog pricked up its ears, and barked; he stopped again The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see they bark at me! His resolution failed; he slunk back, and, locking the gate as softly as he could, stood on tiptoe looking over the wall till they were gone. At that instant a shepherd blew his horn: the romantic melancholy of the sound quite overcame him!it was the very note that wanted to be touchedhe sighed! he dropped a tear!and returned. At supper his aunt observed that he was graver than usual; but she did not suspect the cause: indeed, it may seem odd that she was the only person in the family who had no suspicion of his attachment to Miss Walton. It was frequently matter of discourse amongst the servants: perhaps her maiden coldnessbut for those things we need not account. In a day or two he was so much master of himself as to be able to rhyme upon the subject. The following pastoral he left, some time after, on the handle of a teakettle, at a neighbouring house where we were visiting; and as I filled the teapot after him, I happened to put it in my pocket by a similar act of forgetfulness. It is such as might be expected from a man who makes verses for amusement. I am pleased with somewhat of good nature that runs through it, because I have commonly observed the writers of those complaints to bestow epithets on their lost mistresses rather too harsh for the mere liberty of choice, which led them to prefer another to the poet himself: I do not doubt the vehemence of their passion; but, alas! the sensations of love are something more than the returns of gratitude. LAVINIA. A PASTORAL. Why steals from my bosom the sigh? Why fixed is my gaze on the ground? Come, give me my pipe, and Ill try To banish my cares with the sound. Erewhile were its notes of accord With the smile of the flowrfooted Muse; Ah! why by its master implored Shoud it now the gay carrol refuse? Twas taught by LAVINIAS sweet smile, In the mirthloving chorus to join: Ah, me! how unweeting the while! LAVINIAcan never be mine! Another, more happy, the maid By fortune is destind to bless Tho the hope has forsook that betrayd, Yet why should I love her the less? Her beauties are bright as the morn, With rapture I counted them oer; Such virtues these beauties adorn, I knew her, and praisd them no more. I termd her no goddess of love, I calld not her beauty divine: These far other passions may prove, But they could not be figures of mine. It neer was appareld with art, On words it could never rely; It reignd in the throb of my heart, It gleamd in the glance of my eye. Oh fool! in the circle to shine That Fashions gay daughters approve, You must speak as the fashions incline; Alas! are there fashions in love? Yet sure they are simple who prize The tongue that is smooth to deceive; Yet sure she had sense to despise, The tinsel that folly may weave. When I talkd, I have seen her recline, With an aspect so pensively sweet, Tho I spoke what the shepherds opine, A fop were ashamed to repeat. She is soft as the dewdrops that fall From the lip of the sweetscented pea; Perhaps when she smild upon all, I have thought that she smild upon me. But why of her charms should I tell? Ah me! whom her charms have undone Yet I love the reflection too well, The painful reflection to shun. Ye souls of more delicate kind, Who feast not on pleasure alone, Who wear the soft sense of the mind, To the sons of the world still unknown. Ye know, tho I cannot express, Why I foolishly doat on my pain; Nor will ye believe it the less, That I have not the skill to complain. I lean on my hand with a sigh, My friends the soft sadness condemn; Yet, methinks, tho I cannot tell why, I should hate to be merry like them. When I walkd in the pride of the dawn, Methought all the region lookd bright: Has sweetness forsaken the lawn? For, methinks, I grow sad at the sight. When I stood by the stream, I have thought There was mirth in the gurgling soft sound; But now tis a sorrowful note, And the banks are all gloomy around! I have laughd at the jest of a friend; Now they laugh, and I know not the cause, Tho I seem with my looks to attend, How silly! I ask what it was. They sing the sweet song of the May, They sing it with mirth and with glee; Sure I once thought the sonnet was gay, But now tis all sadness to me. Oh! give me the dubious light That gleams thro the quivering shade; Oh! give me the horrors of night, By gloom and by silence arrayd! Let me walk where the softrising wave, Has picturd the moon on its breast; Let me walk where the new coverd grave Allows the pale lover to rest! When shall I in its peaceable womb, Be laid with my sorrows asleep? Should LAVINIA but chance on my tomb I could die if I thought she would weep. Perhaps, if the souls of the just Revisit these mansions of care, It may be my favourite trust To watch oer the fate of the fair. Perhaps the soft thought of her breast, With rapture more favourd to warm; Perhaps, if with sorrow oppressd, Her sorrow with patience to arm. Then, then, in the tenderest part May I whisper, Poor COLIN was true, And mark if a heave of her heart The thought of her COLIN pursue. THE PUPIL. A FRAGMENT.    BUT as to the higher part of education, Mr. Harley, the culture of the mindlet the feelings be awakened, let the heart be brought forth to its object, placed in the light in which nature would have it stand, and its decisions will ever be just. The world Will smile, and smile, and be a villain; and the youth, who does not suspect its deceit, will be content to smile with it. Men will put on the most forbidding aspect in nature, and tell him of the beauty of virtue. I have not, under these grey hairs, forgotten that I was once a young man, warm in the pursuit of pleasure, but meaning to be honest as well as happy. I had ideas of virtue, of honour, of benevolence, which I had never been at the pains to define; but I felt my bosom heave at the thoughts of them, and I made the most delightful soliloquies. It is impossible, said I, that there can be half so many rogues as are imagined. I travelled, because it is the fashion for young men of my fortune to travel. I had a travelling tutor, which is the fashion too; but my tutor was a gentleman, which it is not always the fashion for tutors to be. His gentility, indeed, was all he had from his father, whose prodigality had not left him a shilling to support it. I have a favour to ask of you, my dear Mountford, said my father, which I will not be refused. You have travelled as became a man; neither France nor Italy have made anything of Mountford, which Mountford, before he left England, would have been ashamed of. My son Edward goes abroad, would you take him under your protection? He blushed; my fathers face was scarlet. He pressed his hand to his bosom, as if he had said, my heart does not mean to offend you. Mountford sighed twice. I am a proud fool, said he, and you will pardon it. There! (he sighed again) I can hear of dependance, since it is dependance on my Sedley. Dependance! answered my father; there can be no such word between us. What is there in 9,000 a year that should make me unworthy of Mountfords friendship? They embraced; and soon after I set out on my travels, with Mountford for my guardian. We were at Milan, where my father happened to have an Italian friend, to whom he had been of some service in England. The count, for he was of quality, was solicitous to return the obligation by a particular attention to his son. We lived in his palace, visited with his family, were caressed by his friends, and I began to be so well pleased with my entertainment, that I thought of England as of some foreign country. The count had a son not much older than myself. At that age a friend is an easy acquisition; we were friends the first night of our acquaintance. He introduced me into the company of a set of young gentlemen, whose fortunes gave them the command of pleasure, and whose inclinations incited them to the purchase. After having spent some joyous evenings in their society, it became a sort of habit which I could not miss without uneasiness, and our meetings, which before were frequent, were now stated and regular. Sometimes, in the pauses of our mirth, gaming was introduced as an amusement. It was an art in which I was a novice. I received instruction, as other novices do, by losing pretty largely to my teachers. Nor was this the only evil which Mountford foresaw would arise from the connection I had formed; but a lecture of sour injunctions was not his method of reclaiming. He sometimes asked me questions about the company, but they were such as the curiosity of any indifferent man might have prompted. I told him of their wit, their eloquence, their warmth of friendship, and their sensibility of heart. And their honour, said I, laying my hand on my breast, is unquestionable. Mountford seemed to rejoice at my good fortune, and begged that I would introduce him to their acquaintance. At the next meeting I introduced him accordingly. The conversation was as animated as usual. They displayed all that sprightliness and goodhumour which my praises had led Mountford to expect; subjects, too, of sentiment occurred, and their speeches, particularly those of our friend the son of Count Respino, glowed with the warmth of honour, and softened into the tenderness of feeling. Mountford was charmed with his companions. When we parted, he made the highest eulogiums upon them. When shall we see them again? said he. I was delighted with the demand, and promised to reconduct him on the morrow. In going to their place of rendezvous, he took me a little out of the road, to see, as he told me, the performances of a young statuary. When we were near the house in which Mountford said he lived, a boy of about seven years old crossed us in the street. At sight of Mountford he stopped, and grasping his hand, My dearest sir, said he, my father is likely to do well. He will live to pray for you, and to bless you. Yes, he will bless you, though you are an Englishman, and some other hard word that the monk talked of this morning, which I have forgot, but it meant that you should not go to heaven; but he shall go to heaven, said I, for he has saved my father. Come and see him, sir, that we may be happy. My dear, I am engaged at present with this gentleman. But he shall come along with you; he is an Englishman, too, I fancy. He shall come and learn how an Englishman may go to heaven. Mountford smiled, and we followed the boy together. After crossing the next street, we arrived at the gate of a prison. I seemed surprised at the sight; our little conductor observed it. Are you afraid, sir? said he. I was afraid once too, but my father and mother are here, and I am never afraid when I am with them. He took my hand, and led me through a dark passage that fronted the gate. When we came to a little door at the end, he tapped. A boy, still younger than himself, opened it to receive us. Mountford entered with a look in which was pictured the benign assurance of a superior being. I followed in silence and amazement. On something like a bed, lay a man, with a face seemingly emaciated with sickness, and a look of patient dejection. A bundle of dirty shreds served him for a pillow, but he had a better supportthe arm of a female who kneeled beside him, beautiful as an angel, but with a fading languor in her countenance, the still life of melancholy, that seemed to borrow its shade from the object on which she gazed. There was a tear in her eyethe sick man kissed it off in its bud, smiling through the dimness of his ownwhen she saw Mountford, she crawled forward on the ground, and clasped his knees. He raised her from the floor; she threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed out a speech of thankfulness, eloquent beyond the power of language. Compose yourself, my love, said the man on the bed; but he, whose goodness has caused that emotion, will pardon its effects. How is this, Mountford? said I; what do I see? What must I do? You see, replied the stranger, a wretch, sunk in poverty, starving in prison, stretched on a sick bed. But that is little. There are his wife and children wanting the bread which he has not to give them! Yet you cannot easily imagine the conscious serenity of his mind. In the gripe of affliction, his heart swells with the pride of virtue; it can even look down with pity on the man whose cruelty has wrung it almost to bursting. You are, I fancy, a friend of Mr. Mountfords. Come nearer, and Ill tell you, for, short as my story is, I can hardly command breath enough for a recital. The son of Count Respino (I started, as if I had trod on a viper) has long had a criminal passion for my wife. This her prudence had concealed from me; but he had lately the boldness to declare it to myself. He promised me affluence in exchange for honour, and threatened misery as its attendant if I kept it. I treated him with the contempt he deserved; the consequence was, that he hired a couple of bravoes (for I am persuaded they acted under his direction), who attempted to assassinate me in the street; but I made such a defence as obliged them to fly, after having given me two or three stabs, none of which, however, were mortal. But his revenge was not thus to be disappointed. In the little dealings of my trade I had contracted some debts, of which he had made himself master for my ruin. I was confined here at his suit, when not yet recovered from the wounds I had received; the dear woman, and these two boys, followed me, that we might starve together; but Providence interposed, and sent Mr. Mountford to our support. He has relieved my family from the gnawings of hunger, and rescued me from death, to which a fever, consequent on my wounds and increased by the want of every necessary, had almost reduced me. Inhuman villain! I exclaimed, lifting up my eyes to heaven. Inhuman indeed! said the lovely woman who stood at my side. Alas! sir, what had we done to offend him? what had these little ones done, that they should perish in the toils of his vengeance? I reached a pen which stood in the inkstand dish at the bedside. May I ask what is the amount of the sum for which you are imprisoned? I was able, he replied, to pay all but five hundred crowns. I wrote a draft on the banker with whom I had a credit from my father for 2,500, and presenting it to the strangers wife, You will receive, madam, on presenting this note, a sum more than sufficient for your husbands discharge; the remainder I leave for his industry to improve. I would have left the room. Each of them laid hold of one of my hands, the children clung to my coat. Oh! Mr. Harley, methinks I feel their gentle violence at this moment; it beats here with delight inexpressible. Stay, sir, said he, I do not mean attempting to thank you (he took a pocketbook from under his pillow), let me but know what name I shall place here next to Mr. Mountford! Sedley. He writ it down. An Englishman too, I presume. He shall go to heaven, notwithstanding; said the boy who had been our guide. It began to be too much for me. I squeezed his hand that was clasped in mine, his wifes I pressed to my lips, and burst from the place, to give vent to the feelings that laboured within me. Oh, Mountford! said I, when he had overtaken me at the door. It is time, replied he, that we should think of our appointment; young Respino and his friends are waiting us. Damn him, damn him! said I. Let us leave Milan instantly; but softI will be calm; Mountford, your pencil. I wrote on a slip of paper, To Signor RESPINO. When you receive this, I am at a distance from Milan. Accept of my thanks for the civilities I have received from you and your family. As to the friendship with which you were pleased to honour me, the prison, which I have just left, has exhibited a scene to cancel it for ever. You may possibly be merry with your companions at my weakness, as I suppose you will term it. I give you leave for derision. You may affect a triumph, I shall feel it. EDWARD SEDLEY. You may send this if you will, said Mountford, coolly, but still Respino is a man of honour; the world will continue to call him so. It is probable, I answered, they may; I envy not the appellation. If this is the worlds honour, if these men are the guides of its manners Tut! said Mountford, do you eat macaroni      At this place had the greatest depredations of the curate begun. There were so very few connected passages of the subsequent chapters remaining, that even the partiality of an editor could not offer them to the public. I discovered, from some scattered sentences, that they were of much the same tenor with the preceding; recitals of little adventures, in which the dispositions of a man, sensible to judge, and still more warm to feel, had room to unfold themselves. Some instruction, and some example, I make no doubt they contained; but it is likely that many of those, whom chance has led to a perusal of what I have already presented, may have read it with little pleasure, and will feel no disappointment from the want of those parts which I have been unable to procure. To such as may have expected the intricacies of a novel, a few incidents in a life undistinguished, except by some features of the heart, cannot have afforded much entertainment. Harleys own story, from the mutilated passages I have mentioned, as well as from some inquiries I was at the trouble of making in the country, I found to have been simple to excess. His mistress, I could perceive, was not married to Sir Harry Benson; but it would seem, by one of the following chapters, which is still entire, that Harley had not profited on the occasion by making any declaration of his own passion, after those of the other had been unsuccessful. The state of his health, for some part of this period, appears to have been such as to forbid any thoughts of that kind: he had been seized with a very dangerous fever, caught by attending old Edwards in one of an infectious kind. From this he had recovered but imperfectly, and though he had no formed complaint, his health was manifestly on the decline. It appears that the sagacity of some friend had at length pointed out to his aunt a cause from which this might be supposed to proceed, to wit, his hopeless love for Miss Walton; for, according to the conceptions of the world, the love of a man of Harleys fortune for the heiress of 4,000 a year is indeed desperate. Whether it was so in this case may be gathered from the next chapter, which, with the two subsequent, concluding the performance, have escaped those accidents that proved fatal to the rest. CHAPTER LV. HE SEES MISS WALTON, AND IS HAPPY. HARLEY was one of those few friends whom the malevolence of fortune had yet left me; I could not therefore but be sensibly concerned for his present indisposition; there seldom passed a day on which I did not make inquiry about him. The physician who attended him had informed me the evening before, that he thought him considerably better than he had been for some time past. I called next morning to be confirmed in a piece of intelligence so welcome to me. When I entered his apartment, I found him sitting on a couch, leaning on his hand, with his eye turned upwards in the attitude of thoughtful inspiration. His look had always an open benignity, which commanded esteem; there was now something morea gentle triumph in it. He rose, and met me with his usual kindness. When I gave him the good accounts I had had from his physician, I am foolish enough, said he, to rely but little, in this instance, upon physic: my presentiment may be false; but I think I feel myself approaching to my end, by steps so easy, that they woo me to approach it. There is a certain dignity in retiring from life at a time, when the infirmities of age have not sapped our faculties. This world, my dear Charles, was a scene in which I never much delighted. I was not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the dissipation of the gay; a thousand things occurred, where I blushed for the impropriety of my conduct when I thought on the world, though my reason told me I should have blushed to have done otherwise.It was a scene of dissimulation, of restraint, of disappointment. I leave it to enter on that state which I have learned to believe is replete with the genuine happiness attendant upon virtue. I look back on the tenor of my life, with the consciousness of few great offences to account for. There are blemishes, I confess, which deform in some degree the picture. But I know the benignity of the Supreme Being, and rejoice at the thoughts of its exertion in my favour. My mind expands at the thought I shall enter into the society of the blessed, wise as angels, with the simplicity of children. He had by this time clasped my hand, and found it wet by a tear which had just fallen upon it.His eye began to moisten toowe sat for some time silent.At last, with an attempt to a look of more composure, There are some remembrances, said Harley, which rise involuntary on my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, who redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have passed among them; but we shall meet again, my friend, never to be separated. There are some feelings which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world.The world is in general selfish, interested, and unthinking, and throws the imputation of romance or melancholy on every temper more susceptible than its own. I cannot think but in those regions which I contemplate, if there is any thing of mortality left about us, that these feelings will subsist;they are called,perhaps they areweaknesses here;but there may be some better modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the name of virtues. He sighed as he spoke these last words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. My dear, said she, here is Miss Walton, who has been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself. I could observe a transient glow upon his face. He rose from his seatIf to know Miss Waltons goodness, said he, be a title to deserve it, I have some claim. She begged him to resume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my leave. Mrs. Margery accompanied me to the door. He was left with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously about his health. I believe, said he, from the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have no great hopes of my recovery.She started as he spoke; but recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions were groundless. I know, said he, that it is usual with persons at my time of life to have these hopes, which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege bestowed on few.I would endeavour to make it mine;nor do I think that I can ever be better prepared for it than now:It is that chiefly which determines the fitness of its approach. Those sentiments, answered Miss Walton, are just; but your good sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value.As the province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired.To virtue has the Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards enough even here to fix its attachment. The subject began to overpower her.Harley lifted his eyes from the groundThere are, said he, in a very low voice, there are attachments, Miss WaltonHis glance met hers.They both betrayed a confusion, and were both instantly withdrawn.He paused some momentsI am such a state as calls for sincerity, let that also excuse itIt is perhaps the last time we shall ever meet. I feel something particularly solemn in the acknowledgment, yet my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of my presumption, by a sense of your perfectionsHe paused againLet it not offend you, to know their power over one so unworthyIt will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose the latest.To love Miss Walton could not be a crime;if to declare it is onethe expiation will be made.Her tears were now flowing without control.Let me intreat you, said she, to have better hopesLet not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can put any value on itI will not pretend to misunderstand youI know your worthI have known it longI have esteemed itWhat would you have me say?I have loved it as it deserved.He seized her handa languid colour reddened his cheeka smile brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closedHe sighed and fell back on his seatMiss Walton screamed at the sightHis aunt and the servants rushed into the roomThey found them lying motionless together.His physician happened to call at that instant. Every art was tried to recover themWith Miss Walton they succeededBut Harley was gone for ever. CHAPTER LVI. THE EMOTIONS OF THE HEART. I entered the room where his body lay; I approached it with reverence, not fear: I looked; the recollection of the past crowded upon me. I saw that form which, but a little before, was animated with a soul which did honour to humanity, stretched without sense or feeling before me. Tis a connection we cannot easily forget:I took his hand in mine; I repeated his name involuntary;I felt a pulse in every vein at the sound. I looked earnestly in his face; his eye was closed, his lip pale and motionless. There is an enthusiasm in sorrow that forgets impossibility; I wondered that it was so. The sight drew a prayer from my heart: it was the voice of frailty and of man! the confusion of my mind began to subside into thought; I had time to meet! I turned with the last farewell upon my lips, when I observed old Edwards standing behind me. I looked him full in the face; but his eye was fixed on another object: he pressed between me and the bed, and stood gazing on the breathless remains of his benefactor. I spoke to him I know not what; but he took no notice of what I said, and remained in the same attitude as before. He stood some minutes in that posture, then turned and walked towards the door. He paused as he went;he returned a second time: I could observe his lips move as he looked: but the voice they would have uttered was lost. He attempted going again; and a third time he returned as before.I saw him wipe his cheek: then covering his face with his hands, his breast heaving with the most convulsive throbs, he flung out of the room. THE CONCLUSION. HE had hinted that he should like to be buried in a certain spot near the grave of his mother. This is a weakness; but it is universally incident to humanity: tis at least a memorial for those who survive: for some indeed a slender memorial will serve;and the soft affections, when they are busy that way, will build their structures, were it but on the paring of a nail. He was buried in the place he had desired. It was shaded by an old tree, the only one in the churchyard, in which was a cavity worn by time. I have sat with him in it, and counted the tombs. The last time we passed there, methought he looked wistfully on the tree: there was a branch of it that bent towards us waving in the wind; he waved his hand as if he mimicked its motion. There was something predictive in his look! perhaps it is foolish to remark it; but there are times and places when I am a child at those things. I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the hollow of the tree. It is worth a thousand homilies; every noble feeling rises within me! every beat of my heart awakens a virtue!but it will make you hate the worldNo: there is such an air of gentleness around, that I can hate nothing; but, as to the worldI pity the men of it. FOOTNOTES 15 The reader will remember that the Editor is accountable only for scattered chapters and fragments of chapters; the curate must answer for the rest. The number at the top, when the chapter was entire, he has given as it originally stood, with the title which its author had affixed to it. 61 Though the Curate could not remember having shown this chapter to anybody, I strongly suspect that these political observations are the work of a later pen than the rest of this performance. There seems to have been, by some accident, a gap in the manuscript, from the words, Expectation at a jointure, to these, In short, man is an animal, where the present blank ends; and some other person (for the hand is different, and the ink whiter) has filled part of it with sentiments of his own. Whoever he was, he seems to have caught some portion of the spirit of the man he personates. SOME HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF GUINEA, ITS SITUATION, PRODUCE, AND THE GENERAL DISPOSITION OF ITS INHABITANTS. AN INQUIRY INTO THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE SLAVE TRADE, ITS NATURE AND LAMENTABLE EFFECTS. 1771 BY ANTHONY BENEZET SOME HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF GUINEA, ITS SITUATION, PRODUCE, and the general DISPOSITION of its INHABITANTS. WITH An Inquiry into the RISE and PROGRESS OF THE SLAVE TRADE, Its NATURE, and lamentable EFFECTS. ALSO A REPUBLICATION of the Sentiments of several Authors of Note on this interesting Subject: Particularly an Extract of a Treatise written by GRANVILLE SHARPE. By ANTHONY BENEZET ACTS xvii. 24, 26. GOD, that made the world hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined thebounds of their habitation. PHILADELPHIA: Printed MDCCLXXI. LONDON: Reprinted MDCCLXXII. Introduction. CHAPTER I. A GENERAL account of Guinea; particularly those parts on the rivers Senegal and Gambia. CHAP. II. Account of the IvoryCoast, the GoldCoast and the SlaveCoast. CHAP. III. Of the kingdoms of Benin, Kongo and Angola. CHAP. IV. Guinea, first discovered and subdued by the Arabians. The Portuguese make descents on the coast, and carry off the natives. Oppression of the Indians: De la Casa pleads their cause. CHAP. V. The English's first trade to the coast of Guinea: Violently carry off some of the Negros. CHAP. VI. Slavery more tolerable under Pagans and Turks than in the colonies. As christianity prevailed, ancient slavery declined. CHAP. VII. Montesquieu's sentiments of slavery. Morgan Godwyn's advocacy on behalf of Negroes and Indians, c. CHAP. VIII. Grievous treatment of the Negroes in the colonies, c. CHAP. IX. Desire of gain the true motive of the Slave trade. Misrepresentation of the state of the Negroes in Guinea. CHAP. X. State of the Government in Guinea, c. CHAP. XI. Accounts of the cruel methods used in carrying on of the Slave trade, c. CHAP. XII. Extracts of several voyages to the coast of Guinea, c. CHAP. XIII. Numbers of Negroes, yearly brought from Guinea, by the English, c. CHAP. XIV. Observations on the situation and disposition of the Negroes in the northern colonies, c. CHAP. XV. Europeans capable of bearing reasonable labour in the West Indies, c. Extracts from Granville Sharp's representations, c. Sentiments of several authors, viz. George Wallace, Francis Hutcheson, and James Foster. Extracts of an address to the assembly of Virginia. Extract of the bishop of Gloucester's sermon. INTRODUCTION. The slavery of the Negroes having, of late, drawn the attention of many serious minded people; several tracts have been published setting forth its inconsistency with every christian and moral virtue, which it is hoped will have weight with the judicious; especially at a time when the liberties of mankind are become so much the subject of general attention. For the satisfaction of the serious enquirer who may not have the opportunity of seeing those tracts, and such others who are sincerely desirous that the iniquity of this practice may become effectually apparent, to those in whose power, it may be to put a stop to any farther progress therein; it is proposed, hereby, to republish the most material parts of said tracts; and in order to enable the reader to form a true judgment of this matter, which, tho' so very important, is generally disregarded, or so artfully misrepresented by those whose interest leads them to vindicate it, as to bias the opinions of people otherwise upright; some account will be here given of the different parts of Africa, from which the Negroes are brought to America; with an impartial relation from what motives the Europeans were first induced to undertake, and have since continued this iniquitous traffic. And here it will not be improper to premise, that tho' wars, arising from the common depravity of human nature, have happened, as well among the Negroes as other nations, and the weak sometimes been made captives to the strong; yet nothing appears, in the various relations of the intercourse and trade for a long time carried on by the Europeans on that coast, which would induce us to believe, that there is any real foundation for that argument, so commonly advanced in vindication of that trade, viz. \"That the slavery of the Negroes took its rise from a desire, in the purchasers, to save the lives of such of them as were taken captives in war, who would otherwise have been sacrificed to the implacable revenge of their conquerors.\" A plea which when compared with the history of those times, will appear to be destitute of Truth; and to have been advanced, and urged, principally by such as were concerned in reaping the gain of this infamous traffic, as a palliation of that, against which their own reason and conscience must have raised fearful objections. SOME HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF GUINEA.      Price 2s. 6d. stitched. CHAP. I. Guinea affords an easy living to its inhabitants, with but little toil. The climate agrees well with the natives, but extremely unhealthful to the Europeans. Produces provisions in the greatest plenty. Simplicity of their housholdry. The coast of Guinea described from the river Senegal to the kingdom of Angola. The fruitfulness of that part lying on and between the two great rivers Senegal and Gambia. Account of the different nations settled there. Order of government amongst the Jalofs. Good account of some of the Fulis. The Mandingos; their management, government, c. Their worship. M. Adanson's account of those countries. Surprizing vegetation. Pleasant appearance of the country. He found the natives very sociable and obliging. When the Negroes are considered barely in their present abject state of slavery, brokenspirited and dejected; and too easy credit is given to the accounts we frequently hear or read of their barbarous and savage way of living in their own country; we shall be naturally induced to look upon them as incapable of improvement, destitute, miserable, and insensible of the benefits of life; and that our permitting them to live amongst us, even on the most oppressive terms, is to them a favour. But, on impartial enquiry, the case will appear to be far otherwise; we shall find that there is scarce a country in the whole world, that is better calculated for affording the necessary comforts of life to its inhabitants, with less solicitude and toil, than Guinea. And that notwithstanding the long converse of many of its inhabitants with (often) the worst of the Europeans, they still retain a great deal of innocent simplicity; and, when not stirred up to revenge from the frequent abuses they have received from the Europeans in general, manifest themselves to be a humane, sociable people, whose faculties are as capable of improvement as those of other Men; and that their oeconomy and government is, in many respects, commendable. Hence it appears they might have lived happy, if not disturbed by the Europeans; more especially, if these last had used such endeavours as their christian profession requires, to communicate to the ignorant Africans that superior knowledge which Providence had favoured them with. In order to set this matter in its true light, and for the information of those wellminded people who are desirous of being fully acquainted with the merits of a cause, which is of the utmost consequence; as therein the lives and happiness of thousands, and hundreds of thousands, of our fellow Men have fallen, and are daily falling, a sacrifice to selfish avarice and usurped power, I will here give some account of the several divisions of those parts of Africa from whence the Negroes are brought, with a summary of their produce; the disposition of their respective inhabitants; their improvements, c. c. extracted from authors of credit; mostly such as have been principal officers in the English, French and Dutch factories, and who resided many years in those countries. But first it is necessary to premise, as a remark generally applicable to the whole coast of Guinea, \"That the Almighty, who has determined and appointed the bounds of the habitation of men on the face of the earth\" in the manner that is most conducive to the wellbeing of their different natures and dispositions, has so ordered it, that altho' Guinea is extremely unhealthyA to the Europeans, of whom many thousands have met there with a miserable and untimely end, yet it is not so with the Negroes, who enjoy a good state of healthB and are able to procure to themselves a comfortable subsistence, with much less care and toil than is necessary in our more northern climate; which last advantage arises not only from the warmth of the climate, but also from the overflowing of the rivers, whereby the land is regularly moistened and rendered extremely fertile; and being in many places improved by culture, abounds with grain and fruits, cattle, poultry, c. The earth yields all the year a fresh supply of food: Few clothes are requisite, and little art necessary in making them, or in the construction of their houses, which are very simple, principally calculated to defend them from the tempestuous seasons and wild beasts; a few dry reeds covered with matts serve for their beds. The other furniture, except what belongs to cookery, gives the women but little trouble; the moveables of the greatest among them amounting only to a few earthen pots, some wooden utensils, and gourds or calabashes; from these last, which grow almost naturally over their huts, to which they afford an agreeable shade, they are abundantly stocked with good clean vessels for most houshold uses, being of different sizes, from half a pint to several gallons. Footnote A: Gentleman's Magazine, Supplement, 1763. Extract of a letter wrote from the island of Senegal, by Mr. Boone, practitioner of physic there, to Dr. Brocklesby of London. \"To form just idea of the unhealthiness of the climate, it will be necessary to conceive a country extending three hundred leagues East, and more to the North and South. Through this country several large rivers empty themselves into the sea; particularly the Sanaga, Gambia and Sherbro; these, during the rainy months, which begin in July and continue till October, overflow their banks, and lay the whole flat country under water; and indeed, the very sudden rise of these rivers is incredible to persons who have never been within the tropicks, and are unacquainted with the violent rains that fall there. At Galem, nine hundred miles from the mouth of the Sanaga, I am informed that the waters rise one hundred and fifty feet perpendicular, from the bed of the river. This information I received from a gentleman, who was surgeon's mate to a party sent there, and the only survivor of three captains command, each consisting of one captain, two lieutenants, one ensign, a surgeon's mate, three serjeants, three corporals, and fifty privates. \"When the rains are at an end, which usually happens in October, the intense heat of the sun soon dries up the waters which lie on the higher parts of the earth, and the remainder forms lakes of stagnated waters, in which are found all sorts of dead animals. These waters every day decrease, till at last they are quite exhaled, and then the effluvia that arises is almost insupportable. At this season, the winds blow so very hot from off the land, that I can compare them to nothing but the heat proceeding from the mouth of an oven. This occasions the Europeans to be sorely vexed with bilious and putrid fevers. From this account you will not be surprized, that the total loss of British subjects in this island only, amounted to above two thousand five hundred, in the space of three years that I was there, in such a putrid moist air as I have described.\"  Footnote B: James Barbot, agent general to the French African company, in his account of Africa, page 105, says, \"The natives are seldom troubled with any distempers, being little affected with the unhealthy air. In tempestuous times they keep much within doors; and when exposed to the weather, their skins being suppled, and pores closed by daily anointing with palm oil, the weather can make but little impression on them.\" That part of Africa from which the Negroes are sold to be carried into slavery, commonly known by the name of Guinea, extends along the coast three or four thousand miles. Beginning at the river Senegal, situate about the 17th degree of North latitude, being the nearest part of Guinea, as well to Europe as to North America; from thence to the river Gambia, and in a southerly course to Cape Sierra Leona, comprehends a coast of about seven hundred miles; being the same tract for which Queen Elizabeth granted charters to the first traders to that coast: from Sierra Leona, the land of Guinea takes a turn to the eastward, extending that course about fifteen hundred miles, including those several civilians known by name of the Grain Coast, the Ivory Coast, the Gold Coast, and the Slave Coast, with the large kingdom of Benin. From thence the land runs southward along the coast about twelve hundred miles, which contains the kingdoms of Congo and Angola; there the trade for slaves ends. From which to the southermost Cape of Africa, called the Cape of Good Hope, the country is settled by Caffres and Hottentots, who have never been concerned in the making or selling slaves. Of the parts which are above described, the first which presents itself to view, is that situate on the great river Senegal, which is said to be navigable more than a thousand miles, and is by travellers described to be very agreeable and fruitful. Andrew Brue, principal factor for the French African company, who lived sixteen years in that country, after describing its fruitfulness and plenty, near the sea, adds,A \"The farther you go from the sea, the country on the river seems the more fruitful and well improved; abounding with Indian corn, pulse, fruit, c. Here are vast meadows, which feed large herds of great and small cattle, and poultry numerous: The villages that lie thick on the river, shew the country is well peopled.\" The same author, in the account of a voyage he made up the river Gambia, the mouth of which lies about three hundred miles South of the Senegal, and is navigable about six hundred miles up the country, says,B \"That he was surprized to see the land so well cultivated; scarce a spot lay unimproved; the low lands, divided by small canals, were all formed with rice, c. the higher ground planted with millet, Indian corn, and pease of different sorts; their beef excellent; poultry plenty, and very cheap, as well as all other necessaries of life.\" Francis Moor, who was sent from England about the year 1735, in the service of the African company, and resided at James Fort, on the river Gambia, or in other factories on that river, about five years, confirms the above account of the fruitfulness of the country. William Smith, who was sent in the year 1726, by the African company, to survey their settlements throughout the whole coast of GuineaC says, \"The country about the Gambia is pleasant and fruitful; provisions of all kinds being plenty and exceeding cheap.\" The country on and between the two abovementioned rivers is large and extensive, inhabited principally by those three Negro nations known by the name of Jalofs, Fulis, and Mandingos. The Jalofs possess the middle of the country. The Fulis principal settlement is on both sides of the Senegal; great numbers of these people are also mixed with the Mandingos; which last are mostly settled on both sides the Gambia. The government of the Jalofs is represented as under a better regulation than can be expected from the common opinion we entertain of the Negroes. We are told in the Collection,D \"That the King has under him several ministers of state, who assist him in the exercise of justice. The grand Jerafo is the chief justice thro' all the King's dominions, and goes in circuit from time to time to hear complaints, and determine controversies. The King's treasurer exercises the same employment, and has under him Alkairs, who are governors of towns or villages. That the Kondi, or Viceroy, goes the circuit with the chief justice, both to hear causes, and inspect into the behaviour of the Alkadi, or chief magistrate of every village in their several districtsE.\" Vasconcelas, an author mentioned in the collection, says, \"The ancientest are preferred to be the Prince's counsellors, who keep always about his person; and the men of most judgment and experience are the judges.\" The Fulis are settled on both sides of the river Senegal: Their country, which is very fruitful and populous, extends near four hundred miles from East to West. They are generally of a deep tawny complexion, appearing to bear some affinity with the Moors, whose country they join on the North. They are good farmers, and make great harvest of corn, cotton, tobacco, c. and breed great numbers of cattle of all kinds. Bartholomew Stibbs, (mentioned by Fr. Moor) in his account of that country says,F \"They were a cleanly, decent, industrious people, and very affable.\" But the most particular account we have, of these people, is from Francis Moor himself, who says,G \"Some of these Fuli blacks who dwell on both sides the river Gambia, are in subjection to the Mandingos, amongst whom they dwell, having been probably driven out of their country by war or famine. They have chiefs of their own, who rule with much moderation. Few of them will drink brandy, or any thing stronger than water and sugar, being strict Mahometans. Their form of government goes on easy, because the people are of a good quiet disposition, and so well instructed in what is right, that a man who does ill, is the abomination of all, and, none will support him against the chief. In these countries, the natives are not covetous of land, desiring no more than what they use; and as they do not plough with horses and cattle, they can use but very little, therefore the Kings are willing to give the Fulis leave to live in their country, and cultivate their lands. If any of their people are known to be made slaves, all the Fulis will join to redeem them; they also support the old, the blind, and lame, amongst themselves; and as far as their abilities go, they supply the necessities of the Mandingos, great numbers of whom they have maintained in famine.\" The author, from his own observations, says, \"They were rarely angry, and that he never heard them abuse one another.\" Footnote A: Astley's collect. vol. 2. page 46. Footnote B: Astley's collection of voyages, vol. 2, page 86. Footnote C: William Smith's voyage to Guinea, page 31, 34. Footnote D: Astley's collection, vol. 2, page 358. Footnote E: Idem. 259. Footnote F: Moor's travels into distant parts of Africa, page 198. Footnote G: Ibid, page 21. The Mandingos are said by A. Brue before mentioned, \"To be the most numerous nation on the Gambia, besides which, numbers of them are dispersed over all these countries; being the most rigid Mahometans amongst the Negroes, they drink neither wine nor brandy, and are politer than the other Negroes. The chief of the trade goes through their hands. Many are industrious and laborious, keeping their ground well cultivated, and breeding a good stock of cattle.A Every town has an Alkadi, or Governor, who has great power; for most of them having two common fields of clear ground, one for corn, and the other for rice, the Alkadi appoints the labour of all the people. The men work the corn ground, and the women and girls the rice ground; and as they all equally labour, so he equally divides the corn amongst them; and in case they are in want, the others supply them. This Alkadi decides all quarrels, and has the first voice in all conferences in town affairs.\" Some of these Mandingos who are settled at Galem, far up the river Senegal, can read and write Arabic tolerably, and are a good hospitable people, who carry on a trade with the inland nations.\"B They are extremely populous in those parts, their women being fruitful, and they not suffering any person amongst them, but such as are guilty of crimes, to be made slaves.\" We are told from Jobson,\"C That the Mahometan Negroes say their prayers thrice a day. Each village has a priest who calls them to their duty. It is surprizing (says the author) as well as commendable, to see the modesty, attention, and reverence they observe during their worship. He asked some of their priests the purport of their prayers and ceremonies; their answer always was, That they adored God by prostrating themselves before him; that by humbling themselves, they acknowledged their own insignificancy, and farther intreated him to forgive their faults, and to grant them all good and necessary things as well as deliverance from evil.\" Jobson takes notice of several good qualities in these Negroe priests, particularly their great sobriety. They gain their livelihood by keeping school for the education of the children. The boys are taught to read and write. They not only teach school, but rove about the country, teaching and instructing, for which the whole country is open to them; and they have a free course through all places, though the Kings may be at war with one another. Footnote A: Astley's collect. vol. 2, page 269. Footnote B: Astley's collect. vol. 2, page 73. Footnote C: Ibid, 296. The three forementioned nations practise several trades, as smiths, potters, sadlers, and weavers. Their smiths particularly work neatly in gold and silver, and make knifes, hatchets, reaping hooks, spades and shares to cut iron, c. c. Their potters make neat tobacco pipes, and pots to boil their food. Some authors say that weaving is their principal trade; this is done by the women and girls, who spin and weave very fine cotton cloth, which they dye blue or black.A F. Moor says, the Jalofs particularly make great quantities of the cotton cloth; their pieces are generally twentyseven yards long, and about nine inches broad, their looms being very narrow; these they sew neatly together, so as to supply the use of broad cloth. Footnote A: F. Moor, 28. It was in these parts of Guinea, that M. Adanson, correspondent of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, mentioned in some former publications, was employed from the year 1749, to the year 1753, wholly in making natural and philosophical observations on the country about the rivers Senegal and Gambia. Speaking of the great heats in Senegal, he says,A \"It is to them that they are partly indebted for the fertility of their lands; which is so great, that, with little labour and care, there is no fruit nor grain but grow in great plenty.\" Footnote A: M. Adanson's voyage to Senegal, c, page 308. Of the soil on the Gambia, he says,A \"It is rich and deep, and amazingly fertile; it produces spontaneously, and almost without cultivation, all the necessaries of life, grain, fruit, herbs, and roots. Every thing matures to perfection, and is excellent in its kind.\"B One thing, which always surprized him, was the prodigious rapidity with which the sap of trees repairs any loss they may happen to sustain in that country: \"And I was never,\" says he, \"more astonished, than when landing four days after the locusts had devoured all the fruits and leaves, and even the buds of the trees, to find the trees covered with new leaves, and they did not seem to me to have suffered much.\"C \"It was then,\" says the same author; \"the fish season; you might see them in shoals approaching towards land. Some of those shoals were fifty fathom square, and the fish crowded together in such a manner, as to roll upon one another, without being able to swim. As soon as the Negroes perceive them coming towards land, they jump into the water with a basket in one hand, and swim with the other. They need only to plunge and to lift up their basket, and they are sure to return loaded with fish.\" Speaking of the appearance of the country, and of the disposition of the people, he says,D \"Which way soever I turned mine eyes on this pleasant spot, I beheld a perfect image of pure nature; an agreeable solitude, bounded on every side by charming landscapes; the rural situation of cottages in the midst of trees; the ease and indolence of the Negroes, reclined under the shade of their spreading foliage; the simplicity of their dress and manners; the whole revived in my mind the idea of our first parents, and I seemed to contemplate the world in its primitive state. They are, generally speaking, very goodnatured, sociable, and obliging. I was not a little pleased with this my first reception; it convinced me, that there ought to be a considerable abatement made in the accounts I had read and heard every where of the savage character of the Africans. I observed both in Negroes and Moors, great humanity and sociableness, which gave me strong hopes that I should be very safe amongst them, and meet with the success I desired in my enquiries after the curiosities of the country.\"E He was agreeably amused with the conversation of the Negroes, their fables, dialogues, and witty stories with which they entertain each other alternately, according to their custom. Speaking of the remarks which the natives made to him, with relation to the stars and planets, he says, \"It is amazing, that such a rude and illiterate people, should reason so pertinently in regard to those heavenly bodies; there is no manner of doubt, but that with proper instruments, and a good will, they would become excellent astronomers.\" Footnote A: Idem, page 164. Footnote B: M. Adanson, page 161. Footnote C: Idem, page 171. Footnote D: Ibid, page 54. Footnote E: Adanson, page 252, ibid. CHAP. II The Ivory Coast; its soil and produce. The character of the natives misrepresented by some authors. These misrepresentations occasioned by the Europeans having treacherously carried off many of their people. John Smith, surveyor to the African company, his observations thereon. John Snock's remarks. The Gold Coast and Slave Coast, these have the most European factories, and furnish the greatest number of slaves to the Europeans. Exceeding fertile. The country of Axim, and of Ante. Good account of the inland people Great fishery. Extraordinary trade for slaves. The Slave Coast. The kingdom of Whidah. Fruitful and pleasant. The natives kind and obliging. Very populous. Keep regular markets and fairs. Good order therein. Murder, adultery, and theft severely punished. The King's revenues. The principal people have an idea of the true God. Commendable care of the poor. Several small governments depend on plunder and the slave trade. That part of Guinea known by the name of the Grain, and Ivory Coast, comes next in course. This coast extends about five hundred miles. The soil appears by account, to be in general fertile, producing abundance of rice and roots; indigo and cotton thrive without cultivation, and tobacco would be excellent, if carefully manufactured; they have fish in plenty; their flocks greatly increase, and their trees are loaded with fruit. They make a cotton cloth, which sells well on the Coast. In a word, the country is rich, and the commerce advantageous, and might be greatly augmented by such as would cultivate the friendship of the natives. These are represented by some writers as a rude, treacherous people, whilst several other authors of credit give them a very different character, representing them as sensible, courteous and the fairest traders on the coast of Guinea. In the Collection, they are saidA to be averse to drinking to excess, and such as do, are severely punished by the King's order: On enquiry why there is such a disagreement in the character given of these people, it appears, that though they are naturally inclined to be kind to strangers, with whom they are fond of trading, yet the frequent injuries done them by Europeans, have occasioned their being suspicious and shy. The same cause has been the occasion of the ill treatment they have sometimes given to innocent strangers, who have attempted to trade with them. As the Europeans have no settlement on this part of Guinea, the trade is carried on by signals from the ships, on the appearance of which the natives usually come on board in their canoes, bringing their golddust, ivory, c. which has given opportunity to some villainous Europeans to carry them off with their effects, or retain them on board till a ransom is paid. It is noted by some, that since the European voyagers have carried away several of these people, their mistrust is so great, that it is very difficult to prevail on them to come on board. William Smith remarks,B \"As we past along this coast, we very often lay before a town, and fired a gun for the natives to come off, but no soul came near us; at length we learnt by some ships that were trading down the coast, that the natives came seldom on board an English ship, for fear of being detained or carried off; yet last some ventured on board, but if those chanced to spy any arms, they would all immediately take to their canoes, and make the best of their way home. They had then in their possession one Benjamin Cross the mate of an English vessel, who was detained by them to make reprisals for some of their men, who had formerly been carried away by some English vessel.\" In the Collection we are told,CThis villainous custom is too often practised, chiefly by the Bristol and Liverpool ships, and is a great detriment to the slave trade on the windward coast. John Snock, mentioned in BosmanD when on that coast, wrote, \"We cast anchor, but not one Negro coming on board, I went on shore, and after having staid a while on the strand, some Negroes came to me; and being desirous to be informed why they did not come on board, I was answered that about two months before, the English had been there with two large vessels, and had ravaged the country, destroyed all their canoes, plundered their houses, and carried off some of their people, upon which the remainder fled to the inland country, where most of them were that time; so that there being not much to be done by us, we were obliged to return on board.E When I enquired after their wars with other countries, they told me they were not often troubled with them; but if any difference happened, they chose rather to end the dispute amicably, than to come to arms.\"F He found the inhabitants civil and goodnatured. Speaking of the King of Rio Seftr lower down the coast, he says, \"He was a very agreeable, obliging man, and that all his subjects are civil, as well as very laborious in agriculture, and the pursuits of trade,\" Marchais says,G \"That though the country is very populous, yet none of the natives (except criminals) are sold for slaves.\" Vaillant never heard of any settlement being made by the Europeans on this part of Guinea; and Smith remarks,H \"That these coasts, which are divided into several little kingdoms, and have seldom any wars, is the reason the slave trade is not so good here as on the Gold and Slave Coast, where the Europeans have several forts and factories.\" A plain evidence this, that it is the intercourse with the Europeans, and their settlements on the coast, which gives life to the slave trade. Footnote A: Collection, vol. 2, page 560. Footnote B: W. Smith, page 111. Footnote C: Astley's collection, vol. 2, page 475. Footnote D: W. Bosman's description of Guinea, page 440. Footnote E: W. Bosman's description of Guinea, page 429. Footnote F: Ibid, 441. Footnote G: Astley's collection, Vol. 2, page 565. Footnote H: Smith's voyage to Guinea, page 112. Next adjoining to the Ivory Coast, are those called the Gold Coast, and the Slave Coast; authors are not agreed about their bounds, but their extent together along the coast may be about five hundred miles. And as the policy, produce, and oeconomy of these two kingdoms of Guinea are much the same, I shall describe them together. Here the Europeans have the greatest number of forts and factories, from whence, by means of the Negro sailors, a trade is carried on above seven hundred miles back in the inland country; whereby great numbers of slaves are procured, as well by means of the wars which arise amongst the Negroes, or are fomented by the Europeans, as those brought from the back country. Here we find the natives more reconciled to the European manners and trade; but, at the same time, much more inured to war, and ready to assist the European traders in procuring loadings for the great number of vessels which come yearly on those coasts for slaves. This part of Guinea is agreed by historians to be, in general, extraordinary fruitful and agreeable; producing (according to the difference of the soil) vast quantities of rice and other grain; plenty of fruit and roots; palm wine and oil, and fish in great abundance, with much tame and wild cattle. Bosman, principal factor for the Dutch at D'Elmina, speaking of the country of Axim, which is situate towards the beginning of the Gold Coast, says,A \"The Negro inhabitants are generally very rich, driving a great trade with the Europeans for gold. That they are industriously employed either in trade, fishing, or agriculture; but chiefly in the culture of rice, which grows here in an incredible abundance, and is transported hence all over the Gold Coast. The inhabitants, in lieu, returning full fraught with millet, jamms, potatoes, and palm oil.\" The same author speaking of the country of Ante, says,B \"This country, as well as the Gold Coast, abounds with hills, enriched with extraordinary high and beautiful trees; its valleys, betwixt the hills, are wide and extensive, producing in great abundance very good rice, millet, jamms, potatoes, and other fruits, all good in their kind.\" He adds, \"In short, it is a land that yields its manurers as plentiful a crop as they can wish, with great quantities of palm wine and oil, besides being well furnished with all sorts of tame, as well as wild beasts; but that the last fatal wars had reduced it to a miserable condition, and stripped it of most of its inhabitants.\" The adjoining country of Fetu, he says,C \"was formerly so powerful and populous, that it struck terror into all the neighbouring nations; but it is at present so drained by continual wars, that it is entirely ruined; there does not remain inhabitants sufficient to till the country, tho' it is so fruitful and pleasant that it may be compared to the country of Ante just before described; frequently, says that author, when walking through it before the last war, I have seen it abound with fine well built and populous towns, agreeably enriched with vast quantities of corn, cattle, palm wine, and oil. The inhabitants all applying themselves without any distinction to agriculture; some sow corn, others press oil, and draw wine from palm trees, with both which it is plentifully stored.\" Footnote A: Bosman's description of the coast of Guinea, p, 5. Footnote B: Idem, page 14. Footnote C: Bosman, page 41. William Smith gives much the same account of the beforementioned parts of the Gold Coast, and adds, \"The country about D'Elmina and Cape Coast, is much the same for beauty and goodness, but more populous; and the nearer we come towards the Slave Coast, the more delightful and rich all the countries are, producing all sorts of trees, fruits, roots, and herbs, that grow within the Torrid Zone.\" J. Barbot also remarks,A with respect to the countries of Ante and Adom, \"That the soil is very good and fruitful in corn and other produce, which it affords in such plenty, that besides what serves for their own use, they always export great quantities for sale; they have a competent number of cattle, both tame and wild, and the rivers abundantly stored with fish, so that nothing is wanting for the support of life, and to make it easy.\" In the Collection it is said,B \"That the inland people on that part of the coast, employ themselves in tillage and trade, and supply the market with corn, fruit, and palm wine; the country producing such vast plenty of Indian corn, that abundance is daily exported, as well by Europeans as Blacks resorting thither from other parts.\" \"These inland people are said to live in great union and friendship, being generally well tempered, civil, and tractable; not apt to shed human blood, except when much provoked, and ready to assist one another.\" Footnote A: John Barbot's description of Guinea, page 154. Footnote B: Astley's collect. vol. 2. page 535. In the CollectionA it is said, \"That the fishing business is esteemed on the Gold Coast next to trading; that those who profess it are more numerous than those of other employments. That the greatest number of these are at Kommendo, Mina, and Kormantin. From each of which places, there go out every morning, (Tuesday excepted, which is the Fetish day, or day of rest) five, six, and sometimes eight hundred canoes, from thirteen to fourteen feet long, which spread themselves two leagues at sea, each fisherman carrying in his canoe a sword, with bread, water, and a little fire on a large stone to roast fish. Thus they labour till noon, when the sea breeze blowing fresh, they return on the shore, generally laden with fish; a quantity of which the inland inhabitants come down to buy, which they sell again at the country markets.\" Footnote A: Collection, vol. 2, page 640. William Smith says,A \"The country about Acra, where the English and Dutch have each a strong fort, is very delightful, and the natives courteous and civil to strangers.\" He adds, \"That this place seldom fails of an extraordinary good trade from the inland country, especially for slaves, whereof several are supposed to come from very remote parts, because it is not uncommon to find a Malayan or two amongst a parcel of other slaves. The Malaya, people are generally natives of Malacca, in the East Indies, situate several thousand miles from the Gold Coast.\" They differ very much from the Guinea Negroes, being of a tawny complexion, with long black hair. Footnote A: William Smith, page 145. Most parts of the Slave Coasts are represented as equally fertile and pleasant with the Gold Coast. The kingdom of Whidah has been particularly noted by travellers.A William Smith and Bosman agree, \"That it is one of the most delightful countries in the world. The great number and variety of tall, beautiful, and shady trees, which seem planted in groves, the verdant fields every where cultivated, and no otherwise divided than by those groves, and in some places a small footpath, together with a great number of villages, contribute to afford the most delightful prospect; the whole country being a fine easy, and almost imperceptible ascent, for the space of forty or fifty miles from the sea. That the farther you go from the sea, the more beautiful and populous the country appears. That the natives were kind and obliging, and so industrious, that no place which was thought fertile, could escape being planted, even within the hedges which inclose their villages. And that the next day after they had reaped, they sowed again.\" Footnote A: Smith, page 194. Bosman, page 319. Snelgrave also says, \"The country appears full of towns and villages; and being a rich soil, and well cultivated, looks like an entire garden.\" In the Collection,A the husbandry of the Negroes is described to be carried on with great regularity: \"The rainy season approaching, they go into the fields and woods, to fix on a proper place for sowing; and as here is no property in ground, the King's licence being obtained, the people go out in troops, and first clear the ground from bushes and weeds, which they burn. The field thus cleared, they dig it up a foot deep, and so let it remain for eight or ten days, till the rest of their neighbours have disposed their ground in the same manner. They then consult about sowing, and for that end assemble at the King's Court the next Fetish day. The King's grain must be sown first. They then go again to the field, and give the ground a second digging, and sow their seed. Whilst the King or Governor's land is sowing; he sends out wine and flesh ready dressed; enough to serve the labourers. Afterwards, they in like manner sow the ground, allotted for their neighbours, as diligently as that of the King's, by whom they are also feasted; and so continue to work in a body for the public benefit, till every man's ground is tilled and sowed. None but the King, and a few great men, are exempted from this labour. Their grain soon sprouts out of the ground. When it is about a man's height, and begins to ear, they raise a wooden house in the centre of the field, covered with straw, in which they set their children to watch their corn, and fright away the birds.\" Footnote A: Collection, vol. 2, page 651. BosmanA speaks in commendation of the civility, kindness, and great industry of the natives of Whidah; this is confirmed by Smith,B who says, \"The natives here seem to be the most gentlemanlike Negroes in Guinea, abounding with good manners and ceremony to each other. The inferior pay the utmost deference and, respect to the superior, as do wives to their husbands, and children to their parents. All here are naturally industrious, and find constant employment; the men in agriculture, and the women in spinning and weaving cotton. The men, whose chief talent lies in husbandry, are unacquainted with arms; otherwise, being a numerous people, they could have made a better defence against the King of Dahome, who subdued them without much trouble.C Throughout the Gold Coast, there are regular markets in all villages, furnished with provisions and merchandize, held every day in the week, except Tuesday, whence they supply not only the inhabitants, but the European ships. The Negro women are very expert in buying and selling, and extremely industrious; for they will repair daily to market from a considerable distance, loaded like packhorses, with a child, perhaps, at their back, and a heavy burden on their heads. After selling their wares, they buy fish and other necessaries, and return home loaded as they came. Footnote A: Bosman, page 317. Footnote B: Smith, page 195. Footnote C: Collect, vol. 2, p. 657. \"There is a market held at Sabi every, fourth day,A also a weekly one in the province of Aplogua, which is so resorted to, that there are usually five or six thousand merchants. Their markets are so well regulated and governed, that seldom any disorder happens; each species of merchandize and merchants have a place allotted them by themselves. The buyers may haggle as much as they will, but it must be without noise or fraud. To keep order, the King appoints a judge, who, with four officers well armed, inspects the markets, hears all complaints, and, in a summary way, decides all differences; he has power to seize, and sell as slaves, all who are catched in stealing, or disturbing the peace. In these markets are to be sold men, women, children, oxen, sheep, goats, and fowls of all kinds; European cloths, linen and woollen; printed callicoes, silk, grocery ware, china, golddust, iron in bars, c. in a word, most sorts of European goods, as well as the produce of Africa and Asia. They have other markets, resembling our fairs, once or twice a year, to which all the country repair; for they take care to order the day so in different governments, as not to interfere with each other.\" Footnote A: Collect. vol. 3, p. 11. With respect to government, William Smith says,A \"That the Gold Coast and Slave Coast are divided into different districts, some of which are governed by their Chiefs, or Kings; the others, being more of the nature of a commonwealth are governed by some of the principal men, called Caboceros, who, Bosman says, are properly denominated civil fathers, whose province is to take care of the welfare of the city or village, and to appease tumults.\" But this order of government has been much broken since the coming of the Europeans. Both Bosman and Barbot mention murther and adultery to be severely punished on the Coast, frequently by death; and robbery by a fine proportionable to the goods stolen. Footnote A: Smith, page 193. The income of some of the Kings is large, Bosman says, \"That the King of Whidah's revenues and duties on things bought and sold are considerable; he having the tithe of all things sold in the market, or imported in the country.\"A Both the abovementioned authors say, The tax on slaves shipped off in this King's dominions, in some years, amounts to near twenty thousand pounds. Footnote A: Bosman, page 337. Barbot, page 335. Bosman tells us, \"The Whidah Negroes have a faint idea of a true God, ascribing to him the attributes of almighty power and omnipresence; but God, they say, is too high to condescend to think of mankind; wherefore he commits the government of the world to those inferior deities which they worship.\" Some authors say, the wisest of these Negroes are sensible of their mistake in this opinion, but dare not forsake their own religion, for fear of the populace rising and killing them. This is confirmed by William Smith, who says, \"That all the natives of this coast believe there is one true God, the author of them and all things; that they have some apprehension of a future state; and that almost every village has a grove, or public place of worship, to which the principal inhabitants, on a set day, resort to make their offerings.\" In the CollectionA it is remarked as an excellency in the Guinea government, \"That however poor they may be in general, yet there are no beggars to be found amongst them; which is owing to the care of their chief men, whose province it is to take care of the welfare of the city or village; it being part of their office, to see that such people may earn their bread by their labour; some are set to blow the smith's bellows, others to press palm oil, or grind colours for their matts, and sell provision in the markets. The young men are listed to serve as soldiers, so that they suffer no common beggar.\" Footnote A: Astley's collection, vol. 2, page 619. Bosman ascribes a further reason for this good order, viz. \"That when a Negroe finds he cannot subsist, he binds himself for a certain sum of money, and the master to whom he is bound is obliged to find him necessaries; that the master sets him a sort of task, which is not in the least slavish, being chiefly to defend his master on occasions; or in sowing time to work as much as he himself pleases.\"A Footnote A: Bosman, page 119. Adjoining to the kingdom of Whidah, are several small governments, as Coto, great and small Popo, Ardrah, c. all situate on the Slave Coast, where the chief trade for slaves is carried on. These are governed by their respective Kings, and follow much the same customs with those of Whidah, except that their principal living is on plunder, and the slave trade. CHAP. III. The kingdom of Benin; its extent. Esteemed the most potent in Guinea. Fruitfulness of the soil. Good disposition of the people. Order of government. Punishment of crimes. Large extent of the town of Great Benin. Order maintained. The natives honest and charitable. Their religion. The kingdoms of Kongo and Angola. Many of the natives profess christianity. The country fruitful. Disposition of the people. The administration of justice. The town of Leango. Slave trade carried on by the Portugueze. Here the slave trade ends. Next adjoining to the Slave Coast, is the kingdom of Benin, which, though it extends but about 170 miles on the sea, yet spreads so far inland, as to be esteemed the most potent kingdom in Guinea. By accounts, the soil and produce appear to be in a great measure like those before described; and the natives are represented as a reasonable goodnatured people. Artus says,A \"They are a sincere, inoffensive people, and do no injustice either to one another, or to strangers.\" William SmithB confirms this account, and says, \"That the inhabitants are generally very goodnatured, and exceeding courteous and civil. When the Europeans make them presents, which in their coming thither to trade they always do, they endeavour to return them doubly.\" Footnote A: Collection. vol. 3, page 228. Footnote B: Smith, page 228. Bosman tells us,A \"That his countrymen the Dutch, who were often obliged to trust them till they returned the next year, were sure to be honestly paid their whole debts.\" Footnote A: W. Bosman, page 405. There is in Benin a considerable order in government. Theft, murther, and adultery, being severely punished. Barbot says,A \"If a man and a woman of any quality be surprized in adultery, they are both put to death, and their bodies are thrown on a dunghill, and left there a prey to wild beasts.\" He adds, \"The severity of the laws in Benin against adultery,B amongst all orders of people, deters them from venturing, so that it is but very seldom any persons are punished for that crime.\" Smith says, \"Their towns are governed by officers appointed by the King, who have power to decide in civil cases, and to raise the public taxes; but in criminal cases, they must send to the King's court, which is held at the town of Oedo, or Great Benin. This town, which covers a large extent of ground, is about sixty mile from the sea.\"C Barbot tells us, \"That it contains thirty streets, twenty fathom wide, and almost two miles long, commonly, extending in a straight line from one gate to another; that the gates are guarded by soldiers; that in these streets markets are held every day, for cattle, ivory, cotton, and many sorts of European goods. This large town is divided into several wards, or districts, each governed by its respective King of a street, as they call them; to administer justice, and to keep good order. The inhabitants are very civil and good natured, condescending to what the Europeans require of them in a civil way.\" The same author confirms what has been said by others of their justice in the payment of their debts; and adds, \"That they, above all other Guineans, are very honest and just in their dealings; and they have such an aversion for theft, that by the law of the country it is punished with death.\" We are told by the same author,D \"That the King of Benin is able upon occasion to maintain an army of a hundred thousand men; but that, for the most part, he does not keep thirty thousand.\" William Smith says, \"The natives are all free men; none but foreigners can be bought and sold there.E They are very charitable, the King as well as his subjects.\" Bosman confirms this,F and says, \"The King and great Lords subsist several poor at their place of residence on charity, employing those who are fit for any work, and the rest they keep for God's sake; so that here are no beggars.\" Footnote A: Barbot, page 237. Footnote B: By this account of the punishment inflicted on adulterers in this and other parts of Guinea, it appears the Negroes are not insensible of the sinfulness of such practices. How strange must it then appear to the serious minded amongst these people, (nay, how inconsistent is it with every divine and moral law amongst ourselves) that those christian laws which prohibit fornication and adultery, are in none of the English governments extended to them, but that they are allowed to cohabit and separate at pleasure? And that even their masters think so lightly of their marriage engagements, that, when it suits with their interest, they will separate man from wife, and children from both, to be sold into different, and even distant parts, without regard to their sometimes grievous lamentations; whence it has happened, that such of those people who are truly united in their marriage covenant, and in affection to one another, have been driven to such desperation, as either violently to destroy themselves, or gradually to pine away, and die with mere grief. It is amazing, that whilst the clergy of the established church are publicly expressing a concern, that these oppressed people should be made acquainted with the christian religion, they should be thus suffered, and even forced, so flagrantly to infringe one of the principal injunctions of our holy religion! Footnote C: J. Barbot, page 358, 359. Footnote D: Barbot, page 369. Footnote E: W. Smith, page 369. Footnote F: Bosman, page 409. As to religion, these people believe there is a God, the efficient cause of all things; but, like the rest of the Guineans, they are superstitiously and idolatrously inclined. The last division of Guinea from which slaves are imported, are the kingdoms of Kongo and Angola: these lie to the South of Benin, extending with the intermediate land about twelve hundred miles on the coast. Great numbers of the natives of both these kingdoms profess the christian religion, which was long since introduced by the Portugueze, who made early settlements in that country. In the Collection it is said, that both in Kongo and Angola, the soil is in general fruitful, producing great plenty of grain, Indian corn, and such quantities of rice, that it hardly bears any price, with fruits, roots, and palm oil in plenty. The natives are generally a quiet people, who discover a good understanding, and behave in a friendly manner to strangers, being of a mild conversation, affable, and easily overcome with reason. In the government of Kongo, the King appoints a judge in every particular division, to hear and determine disputes and civil causes; the judges imprison and release, or impose fines, according to the rule of custom; but in weighty matters, every one may appeal to the King, before whom all criminal causes are brought, in which he giveth sentence; but seldom condemneth to death. The town of Leango stands in the midst of four Lordships, which abound in corn, fruit, c. Here they make great quantities of cloth of divers kinds, very fine and curious; the inhabitants are seldom idle; they even make needlework caps as they walk in the streets. The slave trade is here principally managed by the Portugueze, who carry it far up into the inland countries. They are said to send off from these parts fifteen thousand slaves each year. At Angola, about the 10th degree of South latitude, ends the trade for slaves. CHAP. IV. The antientest accounts of the Negroes is from the Nubian Geography, and the writings of Leo the African. Some account of those authors. The Arabians pass into Guinea. The innocency and simplicity of the natives. They are subdued by the Moors. Heli Ischia shakes off the Moorish yoke. The Portugueze make the first descent in Guinea. From whence they carry off some of the natives. More incursions of the like kind. The Portugueze erect the first fort at D'Elmina. They begin the slave trade. Cada Mosto's testimony. Anderson's account to the same purport. De la Casa's concern for the relief of the oppressed Indians. Goes over into Spain to plead their cause. His speech before Charles the Fifth. The most antient account we have of the country of the Negroes, particularly that part situate on and between the two great rivers of Senegal and Gambia, is from the writings of two antient authors, one an Arabian, and the other a Moor. The firstA wrote in Arabic, about the twelfth century. His works, printed in that language at Rome, were afterwards translated into Latin, and printed at Paris, under the patronage of the famous Thuanus, chancellor of France, with the title of Geographica Nubiensis, containing an account or all the nations lying on the Senegal and Gambia. The other wrote by John Leo,B a Moor, born at Granada, in Spain, before the Moors were totally expelled from that kingdom. He resided in Africa; but being on a voyage from Tripoli to Tunis, was taken by some Italian Corsairs, who finding him possessed of several Arabian books, besides his own manuscripts, apprehended him to be a man of learning, and as such presented him to Pope Leo the Tenth. This Pope encouraging him, he embraced the Romish religion, and his description of Africa was published in Italian. From these writings we gather, that after the Mahometan religion had extended to the kingdom of Morocco, some of the promoters of it crossing the sandy desarts of Numidia, which separate that country from Guinea, found it inhabited by men, who, though under no regular government, and destitute of that knowledge the Arabians were favoured with, lived in content and peace. The first author particularly remarks, \"That they never made war, or travelled abroad, but employed themselves in tending their herds, or labouring in the ground.\" J. Leo says, page 65. \"That they lived in common, having no property in land, no tyrant nor superior lord, but supported themselves in an equal state, upon the natural produce of the country, which afforded plenty of roots, game, and honey. That ambition or avarice never drove them into foreign countries to subdue or cheat their neighbours. Thus they lived without toil or superfluities.\" \"The antient inhabitants of Morocco, who wore coats of mail, and used swords and spears headed with iron, coming amongst these harmless and naked people, soon brought them under subjection, and divided that part of Guinea which lies on the rivers Senegal and Gambia into fifteen parts; those were the fifteen kingdoms of the Negroes, over which the Moors presided, and the common people were Negroes. These Moors taught the Negroes the Mahometan religion, and arts of life; particularly the use of iron, before unknown to them. About the 14th century, a native Negro, called Heli Ischia, expelled the Moorish conquerors; but tho' the Negroes threw off the yoke of a foreign nation, they only changed a Libyan for a Negroe master. Heli Ischia himself becoming King, led the Negroes on to foreign wars, and established himself in power over a very large extent of country.\" Since Leo's time, the Europeans have had very little knowledge of those parts of Africa, nor do they know what became of his great empire. It is highly probable that it broke into pieces, and that the natives again resumed many of their antient customs; for in the account published by William Moor, in his travels on the river Gambia, we find a mixture of the Moorish and Mahometan customs, joined with the original simplicity of the Negroes. It appears by accounts of antient voyages, collected by Hackluit, Purchas, and others, that it was about fifty years before the discovery of America, that the Portugueze attempted to sail round Cape Bojador, which lies between their country and Guinea; this, after divers repulses occasioned by the violent currents, they effected; when landing on the western coasts of Africa, they soon began to make incursions into the country, and to seize and carry off the native inhabitants. As early as the year 1434, Alonzo Gonzales, the first who is recorded to have met with the natives, being on that coast, pursued and attacked a number of them, when some were wounded, as was also one of the Portugueze; which the author records as the first blood spilt by christians in those parts. Six years after, the same Gonzales again attacked the natives, and took twelve prisoners, with whom he returned to his vessels; he afterwards put a woman on shore, in order to induce the natives to redeem the prisoners; but the next day 150 of the inhabitants appeared on horses and camels, provoking the Portugueze to land; which they not daring to venture, the natives discharged a volley of stones at them, and went off. After this, the Portugueze still continued to send vessels on the coast of Africa; particularly we read of their falling on a village, whence the inhabitants fled, and, being pursued, twentyfive were taken: \"He that ran best,\" says the author, \"taking the most. In their way home they killed some of the natives, and took fiftyfive more prisoners.C Afterwards Dinisanes Dagrama, with two other vessels, landed on the island Arguin, where they took fiftyfour Moors; then running along the coast eighty leagues farther, they at several times took fifty slaves; but here seven of the Portugueze were killed. Then being joined by several other vessels, Dinisanes proposed to destroy the island, to revenge the loss of the seven Portugueze; of which the Moors being apprized, fled, so that no more than twelve were found, whereof only four could be taken, the rest being killed, as also one of the Portugueze.\" Many more captures of this kind on the coast of Barbary and Guinea, are recorded to have been made in those early times by the Portugueze; who, in the year 1481, erected their first fort at D'Elmina on that coast, from whence they soon opened a trade for slaves with the inland parts of Guinea. Footnote A: See Travels into different parts of Africa, by Francis Moor, with a letter to the publisher. Footnote B: Ibid. Footnote C: Collection, vol. 1, page 13. From the foregoing accounts, it is undoubted, that the practice of making slaves of the Negroes, owes its origin to the early incursions of the Portugueze on the coast of Africa, solely from an inordinate desire of gain. This is clearly evidenced from their own historians, particularly Cada Mosto, about the year 1455, who writes,A \"That before the trade was settled for purchasing slaves from the Moors at Arguin, sometimes four, and sometimes more Portugueze vessels, were used to come to that gulph, well armed; and landing by night, would surprize some fishermen's villages: that they even entered into the country, and carried off Arabs of both sexes, whom they sold in Portugal.\" And also, \"That the Portugueze and Spaniards, settled on four of the Canary islands, would go to the other island by night, and seize some of the natives of both sexes, whom they sent to be sold in Spain.\" Footnote A: Collection vol. 1, page 576. After the settlement of America, those devastations, and the captivating the miserable Africans, greatly increased. Anderson, in his history of trade and commerce, at page 336, speaking of what passed in the year 1508, writes, \"That the Spaniards had by this time found that the miserable Indian natives, whom they had made to work in their mines and fields, were not so robust and proper for those purposes as Negroes brought from Africa; wherefore they, about that time, began to import Negroes for that end into Hispaniola, from the Portugueze settlements on the Guinea coasts; and also afterwards for their sugar works.\" This oppression of the Indians had, even before this time, rouzed the zeal, as well as it did the compassion, of some of the truly pious of that day; particularly that of Bartholomew De las Casas, bishop of Chapia; whom a desire of being instrumental towards the conversion of the Indians, had invited into America. It is generally agreed by the writers of that age, that he was a man of perfect disinterestedness, and ardent charity; being affected with this sad spectacle, he returned to the court of Spain, and there made a true report of the matter; but not without being strongly opposed by those mercenary wretches, who had enslaved the Indians; yet being strong and indefatigable, he went to and fro between Europe and America, firmly determined not to give over his pursuit but with his life. After long solicitation, and innumerable repulses, he obtained leave to lay the matter before the Emperor Charles the Fifth, then King of Spain. As the contents of the speech he made before the King in council, are very applicable to the case of the enslaved Africans, and a lively evidence that the spirit of true piety speaks the same language in the hearts of faithful men in all ages, for the relief of their fellow creatures from oppression of every kind, I think it may not be improper here to transcribe the most interesting parts of it. \"I was,\" says this pious bishop, \"one of the first who went to America; neither curiosity nor interest prompted me to undertake so long and dangerous a voyage; the saving the souls of the heathen was my sole object. Why was I not permitted, even at the expence of my blood, to ransom so many thousand souls, who fell unhappy victims to avarice or lust? I have been an eye witness to such cruel treatment of the Indians, as is too horrid to be mentioned at this time.It is said that barbarous executions were necessary to punish or check the rebellion of the Americans;but to whom was this owing? Did not those people receive the Spaniards, who first came amongst them, with gentleness and humanity? Did they not shew more joy, in proportion, in lavishing treasure upon them, than the Spaniards did greediness in receiving it?But our avarice was not yet satisfied;tho' they gave up to us their land and their riches, we would tear from them their wives, their children and their liberties.To blacken these unhappy people, their enemies assert, that they are scarce human creatures?but it is we that ought to blush, for having been less men, and more barbarous, than they.What right have we to enslave a people who are born free, and whom we disturbed, tho' they never offended us?They are represented as a stupid people, addicted to vice?but have they not contracted most of their vices from the example of the christians? And as to those vices peculiar to themselves, have not the christians quickly exceeded them therein? Nevertheless it must be granted, that the Indians still remain untainted with many vices usual amongst the Europeans; such as ambition, blasphemy, treachery, and many like monsters, which have not yet took place with them; they have scarce an idea of them; so that in effect, all the advantage we can claim, is to have more elevated notions of things, and our natural faculties more unfolded and more cultivated than theirs.Do not let us flatter our corruptions, nor voluntarily blind ourselves; all nations are equally free; one nation has no right to infringe upon the freedom of any other; let us do towards these people as we would have them to have done towards us, if they had landed upon our shore, with the same superiority of strength. And indeed, why should not things be equal on both sides? How long has the right of the strongest been allowed to be the balance of justice? What part of the gospel gives a sanction to such a doctrine? In what part of the whole earth did the apostles and the first promulgators of the gospel ever claim a right over the lives, the freedom, or the substance of the Gentiles? What a strange method this is of propagating the gospel, that holy law of grace, which, from being, slaves to Satan, initiates us into the freedom of the children of God!Will it be possible for us to inspire them with a love to its dictates, while they are so exasperated at being dispossessed of that invaluable blessing, Liberty? The apostles submitted to chains themselves, but loaded no man with them. Christ came to free, not to enslave us.Submission to the faith he left us, ought to be a voluntary act, and should be propagated by persuasion, gentleness, and reason.\" \"At my first arrival in Hispaniola, (added the bishop) it contained a million of inhabitants; and now (viz. in the space of about twenty years) there remains scarce the hundredth part of them; thousands have perished thro' want, fatigue, merciless punishment, cruelty, and barbarity. If the blood of one man unjustly shed, calls loudly for vengeance; how strong must be the cry of that of so many unhappy creatures which is shedding daily?\"The good bishop concluded his speech, with imploring the King's clemency for subjects so unjustly oppressed; and bravely declared, that heaven would one day call him to an account, for the numberless acts of cruelty which he might have prevented. The King applauded the bishop's zeal; promised to second it; but so many of the great ones had an interest in continuing the oppression, that nothing was done; so that all the Indians in Hispaniola, except a few who had hid themselves in the most inaccessible mountains, were destroyed. CHAP. V. First account of the English trading to Guinea. Thomas Windham and several others go to that coast. Some of the Negroes carried off by the English. Queen Elizabeth's charge to Captain Hawkins respecting the natives. Nevertheless he goes on the coast and carries off some of the Negroes. Patents are granted. The King of France objects to the Negroes being kept in slavery. As do the college of Cardinals at Rome. The natives, an inoffensive people; corrupted by the Europeans. The sentiments of the natives concerning the slavetrade, from William Smith: Confirmed by Andrew Brue and James Barbot. It was about the year 1551, towards the latter end of the reign of King Edward the Sixth, when some London merchants sent out the first English ship, on a trading voyage to the coast of Guinea; this was soon followed by several others to the same parts; but the English not having then any plantations in the West Indies, and consequently no occasion for Negroes, such ships traded only for gold, elephants teeth, and Guinea pepper. This trade was carried on at the hazard of losing their ships and cargoes, if they had fallen into the hands of the Portuguese, who claimed an exclusive right of trade, on account of the several settlements they had made there.A In the year 1553, we find captain Thomas Windham trading along the coast with 140 men, in three ships, and sailing as far as Benin, which lies about 3000 miles down the coast, to take in a load of pepper.B Next year John Lock traded along the coast of Guinea, as far as D'Elmina, when he brought away considerable quantities of gold and ivory. He speaks well of the natives, and says,C \"That whoever will deal with them must behave civilly, for they will not traffic if ill used.\" In 1555, William Towerson traded in a peaceable manner with the natives, who made complaint to him of the Portuguese, who were then settled in their castle at D'Elmina, saying, \"They were bad men, who made them slaves if they could take them, putting irons on their legs.\" Footnote A: Astley's collection, vol. 1. page 139. Footnote B: Collection vol. 1. p. 148. Footnote C: Ibid. 257. This bad example of the Portuguese was soon followed by some evil disposed Englishmen; for the same captain Towerson relates,A \"That in the course of his voyage, he perceived the natives, near D'Elmina, unwilling to come to him, and that he was at last attacked by them; which he understood was done in revenge for the wrong done them the year before, by one captain Gainsh, who had taken away the Negro captain's son, and three others, with their gold, c. This caused them to join the Portuguese, notwithstanding their hatred of them, against the English.\" The next year captain Towerson brought these men back again; whereupon the Negroes shewed him much kindness.B Quickly after this, another instance of the same kind occurred, in the case of captain George Fenner, who being on the coast, with three vessels, was also attacked by the Negroes, who wounded several of his people, and violently carried three of his men to their town. The captain sent a messenger, offering any thing they desired for the ransom of his men: but they refused to deliver them, letting him know, \"That three weeks before, an English ship, which came in the road, had carried off three of their people; and that till they were brought again, they would not restore his men, even tho' they should give their three ships to release them.\" It was probably the evil conduct of these, and some other Englishmen, which was the occasion of what is mentioned in Hill's naval history, viz. \"That when captain Hawkins returned from his first voyage to Africa, Queen Elizabeth sent for him, when she expressed her concern, lest any of the African Negroes should be carried off without their free consent; which she declared would be detestable, and would call down the vengeance of heaven upon the undertakers.\" Hawkins made great promises, which nevertheless he did not perform; for his next voyage to the coast appears to have been principally calculated to procure Negro slaves, in order to sell them to the Spaniards in the West Indies; which occasioned the same author to use these remarkable words: \"Here began the horrid practice of forcing the Africans into slavery: an injustice and barbarity, which, so sure as there is vengeance in heaven for the worst of crimes, will some time be the destruction of all who act or who encourage it.\" This captain Hawkins, afterwards sir John Hawkins, seems to have been the first Englishman who gave public countenance to this wicked traffic: For Anderson, before mentioned, at page 401, says, \"That in the year 1562, captain Hawkins, assisted by subscription of sundry gentlemen, now fitted out three ships; and having learnt that Negroes were a very good commodity in Hispaniola, he sailed to the coast of Guinea, took in Negroes, and sailed with them for Hispaniola, where he sold them, and his English commodities, and loaded his three vessels with hides, sugar and ginger, c. with which he returned home anno 1563, making a prosperous voyage.\" As it proved a lucrative business, the trade was continued both by Hawkins and others, as appears from the naval chronicle, page 55, where it is said, \"That on the 18th of October, 1564, captain John Hawkins, with two ships of 700 and 140 tuns, sailed for Africa; that on the 8th of December they anchored to the South of Cape Verd, where the captain manned the boat, and sent eighty men in armour into the country, to see if they could take some Negroes; but the natives flying from them, they returned to their ships, and proceeded farther down the coast. Here they staid certain days, sending their men ashore, in order (as the author says) to burn and spoil their towns and take the inhabitants. The land they observed to be well cultivated, there being plenty of grain, and fruit of several sorts, and the towns prettily laid out. On the 25th, being informed by the Portugueze of a town of Negroes called Bymba, where there was not only a quantity of gold, but an hundred and forty inhabitants, they resolved to attack it, having the Portugueze for their guide; but by mismanagement they took but ten Negroes, having seven of their own men killed, and twentyseven wounded. They then went farther down the coast; when, having procured a number of Negroes, they proceeded to the West Indies, where they sold them to the Spaniards.\" And in the same naval chronicle, at page 76, it is said, \"That in the year 1567, Francis Drake, before performing his voyage round the world, went with Sir John Hawkins in his expedition to the coast of Guinea, where taking in a cargo of slaves, they determined to steer for the Caribbee islands.\" How Queen Elizabeth suffered so grievous an infringement of the rights of mankind to be perpetrated by her subjects, and how she was persuaded, about the 30th year of her reign, to grant patents for carrying on a trade from the North part of the river Senegal, to an hundred leagues beyond Sierra Leona, which gave rise to the present African company, is hard to account for, any otherwise than that it arose from the misrepresentation made to her of the situation of the Negroes, and of the advantages it was pretended they would reap from being made acquainted with the christian religion. This was the case of Lewis the XIIIth, King of France, who, Labat, in his account of the isles of America, tells us, \"Was extremely uneasy at a law by which the Negroes of his colonies were to be made slaves; but it being strongly urged to him as the readiest means for their conversion to christianity, he acquiesced therewith.\" Nevertheless, some of the christian powers did not so easily give way in this matter; for we find,C \"That cardinal Cibo, one of the Pope's principal ministers of state, wrote a letter on behalf of the college of cardinals, or great council at Rome, to the missionaries in Congo, complaining that the pernicious and abominable abuse of selling slaves was yet continued, requiring them to remedy the same, if possible; but this the missionaries saw little hopes of accomplishing, by reason that the trade of the country lay wholly in slaves and ivory.\" Footnote A: Collection, vol. 1. p. 148. Footnote B: Ibid. 157. Footnote C: Collection, vol. 3, page 164. From the foregoing accounts, as well as other authentic publications of this kind, it appears that it was the unwarrantable lust of gain, which first stimulated the Portugueze, and afterwards other Europeans, to engage in this horrid traffic. By the most authentic relations of those early times, the natives were an inoffensive people, who, when civilly used, traded amicably with the Europeans. It is recorded of those of Benin, the largest kingdom in Guinea,AThat they were a gentle, loving people; and Reynold says,B \"They found more sincere proofs of love and good will from the natives, than they could find from the Spaniards and Portugueze, even tho' they had relieved them from the greatest misery.\" And from the same relations there is no reason to think otherwise, but that they generally lived in peace amongst themselves; for I don't find, in the numerous publications I have perused on this subject, relating to these early times, of there being wars on that coast, nor of any sale of captives taken in battle, who would have been otherwise sacrificed by the victors:C Notwithstanding some modern authors, in their publications relating to the West Indies, desirous of throwing a veil over the iniquity of the slave trade, have been hardy enough, upon meer supposition or report, to assert the contrary. Footnote A: Collection, vol. 1, page 202. Footnote B: Idem, page 245. Footnote C: Note, This plea falls of itself, for if the Negroes apprehended they should be cruelly put to death, if they were not sent away, why do they manifest such reluctance and dread as they generally do, at being brought from their native country? William Smith, at page 28, says, \"The Gambians abhor slavery, and will attempt any thing, tho' never so desperate, to avoid it,\" and Thomas Philips, in his account of a voyage he performed to the coast of Guinea, writes, \"They, the Negroes, are so loth to leave their own country, that they have often leaped out of the canoe, boat, or ship, into the sea, and kept under water till they were drowned, to avoid being taken up.\" It was long after the Portugueze had made a practice of violently forcing the natives of Africa into slavery, that we read of the different Negroe nations making war upon each other, and selling their captives. And probably this was not the case, till those bordering on the coast, who had been used to supply the vessels with necessaries, had become corrupted by their intercourse with the Europeans, and were excited by drunkenness and avarice to join them in carrying on those wicked schemes, by which those unnatural wars were perpetrated; the inhabitants kept in continual alarms; the country laid waste; and, as William Moor expresses it, Infinite numbers sold into slavery. But that the Europeans are the principal cause of these devastations, is particularly evidenced by one, whose connexion with the trade would rather induce him to represent it in the fairest colours, to wit, William Smith, the person sent in the year 1726 by the African company to survey their settlements, who, from the information he received of one of the factors, who had resided ten years in that country, says,A \"That the discerning natives account it their greatest unhappiness, that they were ever visited by the Europeans.\"\"That we christians introduced the traffick of slaves; and that before our coming they lived in peace.\" Footnote A: William Smith, page 266. In the accounts relating to the African trade, we find this melancholy truth farther asserted by some of the principal directors in the different factories; particularly A. Brue says,A \"That the Europeans were far from desiring to act as peacemakers amongst the Negroes; which would be acting contrary to their interest, since the greater the wars, the more slaves were procured,\" And William Bosman also remarks,B \"That one of the former commanders gave large sums of money to the Negroes of one nation, to induce them to attack some of the neighbouring nations, which occasioned a battle which was more bloody than the wars of the Negroes usually are.\" This is confirmed by J. Barbot, who says, \"That the country of D'Elmina, which was formerly very powerful and populous, was in his time so much drained of its inhabitants by the intestine wars fomented amongst the Negroes by the Dutch, that there did not remain inhabitants enough to till the country.\" Footnote A: Collection, vol. 2, page 98. Footnote B: Bosman, page 31. CHAP. VI. The conduct of the Europeans and Africans compared. Slavery more tolerable amongst the antients than in our colonies. As christianity prevailed amongst the barbarous nations, the inconsistency of slavery became more apparent. The charters of manumission, granted in the early times of christianity, founded on an apprehension of duty to God. The antient Britons, and other European nations, in their original state, no less barbarous than the Negroes. Slaves in Guinea used with much greater lenity than the Negroes are in the colonies.Note. How the slaves are treated in Algiers, as also in Turkey. Such is the woeful corruption of human nature, that every practice which flatters our pride and covetousness, will find its advocates! This is manifestly the case in the matter before us; the savageness of the Negroes in some of their customs, and particularly their deviating so far from the feelings of humanity, as to join in captivating and selling each other, gives their interested oppressors a pretence for representing them as unworthy of liberty, and the natural rights of mankind. But these sophisters turn the argument full upon themselves, when they instigate the poor creatures to such shocking impiety, by every means that fantastic subtilty can suggest; thereby shewing in their own conduct, a more glaring proof of the same depravity, and, if there was any reason in the argument, a greater unfitness for the same precious enjoyment: for though some of the ignorant Africans may be thus corrupted by their intercourse with the baser of the European natives, and the use of strong liquors, this is no excuse for highprofessing christians; bred in a civilized country, with so many advantages unknown to the Africans, and pretending to a superior degree of gospel light. Nor can it justify them in raising up fortunes to themselves from the misery of others, and calmly projecting voyages for the seizure of men naturally as free as themselves; and who, they know, are no otherwise to be procured than by such barbarous means, as none but those hardened wretches, who are lost to every sense of christian compassion, can make use of. Let us diligently compare, and impartially weigh, the situation of those ignorant Negroes, and these enlightened christians; then lift up the scale and say, which of the two are the greater savages. Slavery has been of a long time in practice in many parts of Asia; it was also in usage among the Romans when that empire flourished; but, except in some particular instances, it was rather a reasonable servitude, no ways comparable to the unreasonable and unnatural service extorted from the Negroes in our colonies. A late learned author,A speaking of those times which succeeded the dissolution of that empire, acquaints us, that as christianity prevailed, it very much removed those wrong prejudices and practices, which had taken root in darker times: after the irruption of the Northern nations, and the introduction of the feudal or military government, whereby the most extensive power was lodged in a few members of society, to the depression of the rest, the common people were little better than slaves, and many were indeed such; but as christianity gained ground, the gentle spirit of that religion, together with the doctrines it teaches, concerning the original equality of mankind, as well as the impartial eye with which the Almighty regards men of every condition, and admits them to a participation of his benefits; so far manifested the inconsistency of slavery with christianity, that to set their fellow christians at liberty was deemed an act of piety, highly meritorious and acceptable to God.B Accordingly a great part of the charters granted for the manumission or freedom of slaves about that time, are granted pro amore Dei, for the love of God, pro mercede animae, to obtain mercy to the soul. Manumission was frequently granted on deathbeds, or by latter wills. As the minds of men are at that time awakened to sentiments of humanity and piety, these deeds proceeded from religious motives. The same author remarks, That there are several forms of those manumissions still extant, all of them founded on religious considerations, and in order to procure the favour of God. Since that time, the practice of keeping men in slavery gradually ceased amongst christians, till it was renewed in the case before us. And as the prevalency of the spirit of christianity caused men to emerge from the darkness they then lay under, in this respect; so it is much to be feared that so great a deviation therefrom, by the encouragement given to the slavery of the Negroes in our colonies, if continued, will, by degrees, reduce those countries which support and encourage it but more immediately those parts of America which are in the practice of it, to the ignorance and barbarity of the darkest ages. Footnote A: See Robertson's history of Charles the 5th. Footnote B: In the years 1315 and 1318, Louis X. and his brother Philip, Kings of France, issued ordonnances, declaring, \"That as all men were by nature freeborn, and as their kingdom was called the kingdom of Franks, they determined that it should be so in reality, as well as in name; therefore they appointed that enfranchisements should be granted throughout the whole kingdom, upon just and reasonable conditions.\" \"These edicts were carried into immediate execution within the royal domain.\"\"In England, as the spirit of liberty gained ground, the very name and idea of personal servitude, without any formal interposition of the legislature to prohibit it, was totally banished.\" \"The effects of such a remarkable change in the condition of so great a part of the people, could not fail of being considerable and extensive. The husbandman, master of his own industry, and secure of reaping for himself the fruits of his labour, became farmer of the same field where he had formerly been compelled to toil for the benefit of another. The odious name of master and of slave, the most mortifying and depressing of all distinctions to human nature, were abolished. New prospects opened, and new incitements to ingenuity and enterprise presented themselves, to those who were emancipated. The expectation of bettering their fortune, as well as that of raising themselves to a more honourable condition, concurred in calling forth their activity and genius; and a numerous class of men, who formerly had no political existence, and were employed merely as instruments of labour, became useful citizens, and contributed towards augmenting the force or riches of the society, which adopted them as members.\" William Robertson's history of Charles the 5th, vol. 1, P. 35.  If instead of making slaves of the Negroes, the nations who assume the name and character of christians, would use their endeavours to make the nations of Africa acquainted with the nature of the christian religion, to give them a better sense of the true use of the blessings of life, the more beneficial arts and customs would, by degrees, be introduced amongst them; this care probably would produce the same effect upon them, which it has had on the inhabitants of Europe, formerly as savage and barbarous as the natives of Africa. Those cruel wars amongst the blacks would be likely to cease, and a fair and honorable commerce, in time, take place throughout that vast country. It was by these means that the inhabitants of Europe, though formerly a barbarous people, became civilized. Indeed the account Julius Caesar gives of the ancient Britons in their state of ignorance, is not such as should make us proud of ourselves, or lead us to despise the unpolished nations of the earth; for he informs us, \"That they lived in many respects like our Indians, being clad with skins, painting their bodies, c.\" He also adds, \"That they, brother with brother, and parents with children, had wives in common.\" A greater barbarity than any heard of amongst the Negroes. Nor doth Tacitus give a more honourable account of the Germans, from whom the Saxons, our immediate ancestors, sprung. The Danes, who succeeded them (who may also be numbered among our progenitors) were full as bad, if not worse. It is usual for people to advance as a palliation in favour of keeping the Negroes in bondage, that there are slaves in Guinea, and that those amongst us might be so in their own country; but let such consider the inconsistency of our giving any countenance to slavery, because the Africans, whom we esteem a barbarous and savage people, allow of it, and perhaps the more from our example. Had the professors of christianity acted indeed as such, they might have been instrumental to convince the Negroes of their error in this respect; but even this, when inquired into, will be to us an occasion of blushing, if we are not hardened to every sense of shame, rather than a palliation of our iniquitous conduct; as it will appear that the slavery endured in Guinea, and other parts of Africa, and in Asia,A is by no means so grievous as that in our colonies. William Moor, speaking of the natives living on the river Gambia,B says, \"Tho' some of the Negroes have many house slaves, which are their greatest glory; that those slaves live so well and easy, that it is sometimes a hard matter to know the slaves from their masters or mistresses. And that though in some parts of Africa they sell their slaves born in the family, yet on the river Gambia they think it a very wicked thing.\" The author adds, \"He never heard of but one that ever sold a family slave, except for such crimes as they would have been sold for if they had been free.\" And in Astley's collection, speaking of the customs of the Negroes in that large extent of country further down the coast, particularly denominated the coast of Guinea, it is said,C \"They have not many slaves on the coast; none but the King or nobles are permitted to buy or sell any; so that they are allowed only what are necessary for their families, or tilling the ground.\" The same author adds, \"That they generally use their slaves well, and seldom correct them.\" Footnote A: In the history of the piratical states of Barbary, printed in 1750, said to be wrote by a person who resided at Algiers, in a public character, at page 265 the author says, \"The world exclaims against the Algerines for their cruel treatment of their slaves, and their employing even tortures to convert them to mahometism: but this is a vulgar error, artfully propagated for selfish views. So far are their slaves from being ill used, that they must have committed some very great fault to suffer any punishment. Neither are they forced to work beyond their strength, but rather spared, lest they should fall sick. Some are so pleased with their situation, that they will not purchase their ransom, though they are able.\" It is the same generally through the Mahometan countries, except in some particular instances, as that of Muley Ishmael, late Emperor of Morocco, who being naturally barbarous, frequently used both his subjects and slaves with cruelty. Yet even under him the usage the slaves met with was, in general, much more tolerable than that of the Negroe slaves in the West Indies. Captain Braithwaite, an author of credit, who accompanied consul general Russel in a congratulatory ambassy to Muley Ishmael's successor, upon his accession to the throne, says, \"The situation of the christian slaves in Morocco was not near so bad as represented.That it was true they were kept at labour by the late Emperor, but not harder than our daily labourers go through.Masters of ships were never obliged to work, nor such as had but a small matter of money to give the Alcaide.When sick, they had a religious house appointed for them to go to, where they were well attended: and whatever money in charity was sent them by their friends in Europe, was their own.\" Braithwaite's revolutions of Morocco. Lady Montague, wife of the English ambassador at Constantinople, in her letters, vol. 3. page 20, writes, \"I know you expect I should say something particular of the slaves; and you will imagine me half a Turk, when I do not speak of it with the same horror other christians have done before me; but I cannot forbear applauding the humanity of the Turks to these creatures; they are not ill used; and their slavery, in my opinion, is no worse than servitude all over the world. It is true they have no wages, but they give them yearly cloaths to a higher value than our salaries to our ordinary servants.\"  Footnote B: W. Moor, p. 30 Footnote C: Collection vol. 2. p. 647. CHAP. VII. Montesquieu's sentiments on slavery. Moderation enjoined by the Mosaic law in the punishment of offenders. Morgan Godwyn's account of the contempt and grievous rigour exercised upon the Negroes in his time. Account from Jamaica, relating to the inhuman treatment of them there. Bad effects attendant on slavekeeping, as well to the masters as the slaves. Extracts from several laws relating to Negroes. Richard Baxter's sentiments on slavekeeping. That celebrated civilian Montesquieu, in his treatise on the spirit of laws, on the article of slavery says, \"It is neither useful to the master nor slave; to the slave, because he can do nothing through principle (or virtue); to the master, because he contracts with his slave all sorts of bad habits, insensibly accustoms himself to want all moral virtues; becomes haughty, hasty, hardhearted, passionate, voluptuous, and cruel.\" The lamentable truth of this assertion was quickly verified in the English plantations. When the practice of slavekeeping was introduced, it soon produced its natural effects; it reconciled men, of otherwise good dispositions, to the most hard and cruel measures. It quickly proved, what, under the law of Moses, was apprehended would be the consequence of unmerciful chastisements. Deut. xxv. 2. \"And it shall be if the wicked man be worthy to be beaten, that the judge shall cause him to lie down, and to be beaten before his face, according to his fault, by a certain number; forty stripes he may give him, and not exceed.\" And the reason rendered, is out of respect to human nature, viz. \"Lest if he should exceed, and beat him above these with many stripes, then thy brother should seem vile unto thee.\" As this effect soon followed the cause, the cruelest measures were adopted, in order to make the most of the poor wretches labour; and in the minds of the masters such an idea was excited of inferiority, in the nature of these their unhappy fellow creatures, that they soon esteemed and treated them as beasts of burden: pretending to doubt, and some of them even presuming to deny, that the efficacy of the death of Christ extended to them. Which is particularly noted in a book, intitled The Negroes and Indians advocate, dedicated to the then Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote so long since as in the year 1680, by Morgan Godwyn, thought to be a clergyman of the church of England.A The same spirit of sympathy and zeal which stirred up the good Bishop of Chapia to plead with so much energy the kindred cause of the Indians of America, an hundred and fifty years before, was equally operating about a century past on the minds of some of the well disposed of that day; amongst others this worthy clergyman, having been an eye witness of the oppression and cruelty exercised upon the Negro and Indian slaves, endeavoured to raise the attention of those, in whose power it might be to procure them relief; amongst other matters, in his address to the Archbishop, he remarks in substance, \"That the people of the island of Barbadoes were not content with exercising the greatest hardness and barbarity upon the Negroes, in making the most of their labour, without any regard to the calls of humanity, but that they had suffered such a slight and undervaluement to prevail in their minds towards these their oppressed fellow creatures, as to discourage any step being taken, whereby they might be made acquainted with the christian religion. That their conduct towards their slaves was such as gave him reason to believe, that either they had suffered a spirit of infidelity, a spirit quite contrary to the nature of the gospel, to prevail in them, or that it must be their established opinion that the Negroes had no more souls than beasts; that hence they concluded them to be neither susceptible of religious impressions, nor fit objects for the redeeming grace of God to operate upon. That under this persuasion, and from a disposition of cruelty, they treated them with far less humanity than they did their cattle; for, says he, they do not starve their horses, which they expect should both carry and credit them on the road; nor pinch the cow, by whose milk they are sustained; which yet, to their eternal shame, is too frequently the lot and condition of those poor people, from whose labour their wealth and livelihood doth wholly arise; not only in their diet, but in their cloathing, and overworking some of them even to death (which is particularly the calamity of the most innocent and laborious) but also in tormenting and whipping them almost, and sometimes quite, to death, upon even small miscarriages. He apprehends it was from this prejudice against the Negroes, that arose those supercilious checks and frowns he frequently met with, when using innocent arguments and persuasions, in the way of his duty as a minister of the gospel, to labour for the convincement and conversion of the Negroes; being repeatedly told, with spiteful scoffings, (even by some esteemed religious) that the Negroes were no more susceptible of receiving benefit, by becoming members of the church, than their dogs and bitches. The usual answer he received, when exhorting their masters to do their duty in that respect, being, What! these black dogs be made christians! what! they be made like us! with abundance more of the same. Nevertheless, he remarks that the Negroes were capable, not only of being taught to read and write, c. but divers of them eminent in the management of business. He declares them to have an equal right with us to the merits of Christ; of which if through neglect or avarice they are deprived, that judgment which was denounced against wicked Ahab, must befal us: Our life shall go for theirs. The loss of their souls will be required at our hands, to whom God hath given so blessed an opportunity of being instrumental to their salvation.\" Footnote A: \"There is a principle which is pure, placed in the human mind, which in different places or ages hath had different names; it is, however, pure, and proceeds from God.It is deep and inward, confined to no forms of religion, nor excluded from any, where the heart stands in perfect sincerity. In whomsoever this takes root and grows, of what nation soever, they become brethren in the best sense of the expression. Using ourselves to take ways which appear most easy to us, when inconsistent with that purity which is without beginning, we thereby set up a government of our own, and deny obedience to Him whose service is true liberty. He that has a servant, made so wrongfully, and knows it to be so, when he treats him otherwise than a free man, when he reaps the benefit of his labour, without paying him such wages as are reasonably due to free men for the like service; these things, though done in calmness, without any shew of disorder, do yet deprave the mind, in like manner, and with as great certainty, as prevailing cold congeals water. These steps taken by masters, and their conduct striking the minds of their children, whilst young, leave less room for that which is good to work upon them. The customs of their parents, their neighbours, and the people with whom they converse, working upon their minds, and they from thence conceiving wrong ideas of things, and modes of conduct, the entrance into their hearts becomes in a great measure shut up against the gentle movings of uncreated purity. \"From one age to another the gloom grows thicker and darker, till error gets established by general opinion; but whoever attends to perfect goodness, and remains under the melting influence of it, finds a path unknown to many, and sees the necessity to lean upon the arm of divine strength, and dwell alone, or with a few in the right, committing their cause to him who is a refuge to his people. Negroes are our fellow creatures, and their present condition among us requires our serious consideration. We know not the time, when those scales, in which mountains are weighed, may turn. The parent of mankind is gracious, his care is over his smallest creatures, and a multitude of men escape not his notice; and though many of them are trodden down and despised, yet he remembers them. He seeth their affliction, and looketh upon the spreading increasing exaltation of the oppressor. He turns the channel of power, humbles the most haughty people, and gives deliverance to the oppressed, at such periods as are consistent with his infinite justice and goodness. And wherever gain is preferred to equity, and wrong things publickly encouraged, to that degree that wickedness takes root and spreads wide amongst the inhabitants of a country, there is a real cause for sorrow, to all such whose love to mankind stands on a true principle, and wisely consider the end and event of things.\" Consideration on keeping Negroes, by John Woolman, part 2. p. 50. He complains, \"That they were suffered to live with their women in no better way than direct fornication; no care being taken to oblige them to continue together when married; but that they were suffered at their will to leave their wives, and take to other women.\" I shall conclude this sympathizing clergyman's observations, with an instance he gives, to shew, \"that not only discouragements and scoffs at that time prevailed in Barbadoes, to establish an opinion that the Negroes were not capable of religious impressions, but that even violence and great abuses were used to prevent any thing of the kind taking place. It was in the case of a poor Negro, who having, at his own request, prevailed on a clergyman to administer baptism to him, on his return home the brutish overseer took him to task, giving him to understand, that that was no sunday's work for those of his complexion; that he had other business for him, the neglect whereof would cost him an afternoon's baptism in blood, as he in the morning had received a baptism with water, (these, says the clergyman, were his own words) which he accordingly made good; of which the Negro complained to him, and he to the governor; nevertheless, the poor miserable creature was ever after so unmercifully treated by that inhuman wretch, the overseer, that, to avoid his cruelty, betaking himself to the woods, he there perished.\" This instance is applicable to none but the cruel perpetrator; and yet it is an instance of what, in a greater or less degree, may frequently happen, when those poor wretches are left to the will of such brutish inconsiderate creatures as those overseers often are. This is confirmed in a History of Jamaica, wrote in thirteen letters, about the year 1740, by a person then residing in that island, who writes as follows, \"I shall not now enter upon the question, whether the slavery of the Negroes be agreeable to the laws of nature or not; though it seems extremely hard they should be reduced to serve and toil for the benefit of others, without the least advantage to themselves. Happy Britannia, where slavery is never known! where liberty and freedom chears every misfortune. Here (says the author) we can boast of no such blessing; we have at least ten slaves to one freeman. I incline to touch the hardships which these poor creatures suffer, in the tenderest manner, from a particular regard which I have to many of their masters, but I cannot conceal their sad circumstances intirely: the most trivial error is punished with terrible whipping. I have seen some of them treated in that cruel manner, for no other reason but to satisfy the brutish pleasure of an overseer, who has their punishment mostly at his discretion. I have seen their bodies all in a gore of blood, the skin torn off their backs with the cruel whip; beaten pepper and salt rubbed in the wounds, and a large stick of sealing wax dropped leisurely upon them. It is no wonder, if the horrid pain of such inhuman tortures incline them to rebel. Most of these slaves are brought from the coast of Guinea. When they first arrive, it is observed, they are simple and very innocent creatures; but soon turn to be roguish enough. And when they come to be whipt, urge the example of the whites for an excuse of their faults.\" These accounts of the deep depravity of mind attendant on the practice of slavery, verify the truth of Montesquieu's remark of its pernicious effects. And altho' the same degree of opposition to instructing the Negroes may not now appear in the islands as formerly, especially since the Society appointed for propagating the Gospel have possessed a number of Negroes in one of them; nevertheless the situation of these oppressed people is yet dreadful, as well to themselves as in its consequence to their hard taskmasters, and their offspring, as must be evident to every impartial person who is acquainted with the treatment they generally receive, or with the laws which from time to time have been made in the colonies, with respect to the Negroes; some of them being absolutely inconsistent with reason, and shocking to humanity. By the 329th act of the assembly of Barbadoes, page 125, it is enacted, \"That if any Negroe or other slave under punishment by his master, or his order, for running away, or any other crime or misdemeanors towards his said master, unfortunately shall suffer in life or member, (which seldom happens) no person whatsoever shall be liable to any fine therefore. But if any man shall, of wantonness, or only of bloodymindedness or cruel intention, wilfully kill a Negroe, or other slave of his own, he shall pay into the public treasury, fifteen pounds sterling.\" Now that the life of a man should be so lightly valued, as that fifteen pounds should be judged a sufficient indemnification of the murder of one, even when it is avowedly done wilfully, wantonly, cruelly, or of bloodymindedness, is a tyranny hardly to be paralleled: nevertheless human laws cannot make void the righteous law of God, or prevent the inquisition of that awful judgment day, when, \"at the hand of every man's brother the life of man shall be required.\" By the law of South Carolina, the person that killeth a Negroe is only subject to a fine, or twelve months imprisonment. It is the same in most, if not all the WestIndies. And by an act of the assembly of Virginia, (4 Ann. Ch. 49. sect. 27. p. 227.) after proclamation is issued against slaves, \"that run away and lie out, it is lawful for any person whatsoever to kill and destroy such slaves, by such ways and means as he, she, or they shall think fit, without accusation or impeachment of any crime for the same.\"And lest private interest should incline the planter to mercy, it is provided, \"That every slave so killed, in pursuance of this act, shall be paid for by the public.\" It was doubtless a like sense of sympathy with that expressed by Morgan Godwyn before mentioned, for the oppressed Negroes, and like zeal for the cause of religion, so manifestly trampled upon in the case of the Negroes, which induced Richard Baxter, an eminent preacher amongst the Dissenters in the last century, in his christian directory, to express himself as follows, viz. \"Do you mark how God hath followed you with plagues; and may not conscience tell you, that it is for your inhumanity to the souls and bodies of men?\"\"To go as pirates; and catch up poor Negroes, or people of another land, that never forfeited life or liberty, and to make them slaves, and sell them, is one of the worst kinds of thievery in the world; and such persons are to be taken for the common enemies of mankind; and they that buy them and use them as beasts for their mere commodity, and betray, or destroy, or neglect their souls, are fitter to be called devils incarnate than christians: It is an heinous sin to buy them, unless it be in charity to deliver them. Undoubtedly they are presently bound to deliver them, because by right the man is his own, therefore no man else can have a just title to him.\" CHAP. VIII. Griffith Hughes's account of the number of Negroes in Barbadoes. Cannot keep up their usual number without a yearly recruit. Excessive hardships wear the Negroes down in a surprising manner. A servitude without a condition, inconsistent with reason and natural justice. The general usage the Negroes meet with in the West Indies. Inhuman calculations of the strength and lives of the Negroes. Dreadful consequences which may be expected from the cruelty exercised upon this oppressed part of mankind. We are told by Griffith Hughes, rector of St. Lucy in Barbadoes, in his natural history of that island, printed in the year 1750, \"That there were between sixtyfive and seventy thousand Negroes, at that time, in the island, tho' formerly they had a greater number. That in order to keep up a necessary number, they were obliged to have a yearly supply from Africa. That the hard labour, and often want of necessaries, which these unhappy creatures are obliged to undergo, destroy a greater number than are bred there.\" He adds, \"That the capacities of their minds in common affairs of life are but little inferior, if at all, to those of the Europeans. If they fail in some arts, he says, it may be owing more to their want of education, and the depression of their spirits by slavery, than to any want of natural abilities.\" This destruction of the human species, thro' unnatural hardships, and want of necessary supplies, in the case of the Negroes, is farther confirmed in an account of the European settlements in America, printed London, 1757, where it is said, par. 6. chap. 11th, \"The Negroes in our colonies endure a slavery more compleat, and attended with far worse circumstances, than what any people in their condition suffer in any other part of the world, or have suffered in any other period of time: Proofs of this are not wanting. The prodigious waste which we experience in this unhappy part of our species, is a full and melancholy evidence of this truth. The island of Barbadoes, (the Negroes upon which do not amount to eighty thousand) notwithstanding all the means which they use to increase them by propagation, and that the climate is in every respect (except that of being more wholesome) exactly resembling the climate from whence they come; notwithstanding all this, Barbadoes lies under a necessity of an annual recruit of five thousand slaves, to keep up the stock at the number I have mentioned. This prodigious failure, which is at least in the same proportion in all our islands, shews demonstratively that some uncommon and unsupportable hardship lies upon the Negroes, which wears them down in such a surprising manner.\" In an account of part of North America, published by Thomas Jeffery, 1761, the author, speaking of the usage the Negroes receive in the West India islands, says, \"It is impossible for a human heart to reflect upon the servitude of these dregs of mankind, without in some measure feeling for their misery, which ends but with their lives.Nothing can be more wretched than the condition of this people. One would imagine, they were framed to be the disgrace of the human species; banished from their country, and deprived of that blessing, liberty, on which all other nations set the greatest value, they are in a measure reduced to the condition of beasts of burden. In general, a few roots, potatoes especially, are their food, and two rags, which neither screen them from the heat of the day, nor the extraordinary coolness of the night, all their covering; their sleep very short; their labour almost continual; they receive no wages, but have twenty lashes for the smallest fault.\" A thoughtful person, who had an opportunity of observing the miserable condition of the Negroes in one of our West India islands, writes thus, \"I met with daily exercise to see the treatment which those miserable wretches met with from their masters; with but few exceptions. They whip them most unmercifully on small occasions: you will see their bodies all whealed and scarred; in short, they seem to set no other value on their lives, than as they cost them so much money; and are restrained from killing them, when angry, by no worthier consideration, than that they lose so much. They act as though they did not look upon them as a race of human creatures, who have reason, and remembrance of misfortunes, but as beasts; like oxen, who are stubborn, hardy, and senseless, fit for burdens, and designed to bear them: they won't allow them to have any claim to human privileges, or scarce indeed to be regarded as the work of God. Though it was consistent with the justice of our Maker to pronounce the sentence on our common parent, and through him on all succeeding generations, That he and they should eat their bread by the sweat of their brows: yet does it not stand recorded by the same eternal truth, That the labourer is worthy of his hire? It cannot be allowed, in natural justice, that there should be a servitude without condition; a cruel, endless servitude. It cannot be reconcileable to natural justice, that whole nations, nay, whole continents of men, should be devoted to do the drudgery of life for others, be dragged away from their attachments of relations and societies, and be made to serve the appetite and pleasure of a race of men, whose superiority has been obtained by illegal force.\" Sir Hans Sloane, in the introduction to his natural history of Jamaica, in the account he gives of the treatment the Negroes met with there, speaking of the punishments inflicted on them, says, page 56. \"For rebellion, the punishment is burning them, by nailing them down to the ground with crooked sticks on every limb, and then applying the fire, by degrees, from the feet and hands, burning them gradually up to the head, whereby their pains are extravagant. For crimes of a less nature, gelding or chopping off half the foot with an axe.For negligence, they are usually whipped by the overseers with lancewood switches.After they are whipped till they are raw, some put on their skins pepper and salt, to make them smart; at other times, their masters will drop melted wax on their skins, and use several very exquisite torments.\" In that island, the owners of the Negroe slaves set aside to each a parcel of ground, and allow them half a day at the latter end of the week, which, with the day appointed by the divine injunction to be a day of rest and service to God, and which ought to be kept as such, is the only time allowed them to manure their ground. This, with a few herrings, or other salt fish, is what is given for their support. Their allowance for cloathing in the island, is seldom more than six yards of oznabrigs each year. And in the more northern colonies, where the piercing westerly winds are long and sensibly felt, these poor Africans suffer much for want of sufficient cloathing; indeed some have none till they are able to pay for it by their labour. The time that the Negroes work in the West Indies, is from daybreak till noon; then again from two o'clock till dark (during which time, they are attended by overseers, who severely scourge those who appear to them dilatory); and before they are suffered to go to their quarters, they have still something to do, as collecting herbage for the horses, gathering fuel for the boilers, c. so that it is often past twelve before they can get home, when they have scarce time to grind and boil their Indian corn; whereby, if their food was not prepared the evening before, it sometimes happens that they are called again to labour before they can satisfy their hunger. And here no delay or excuse will avail; for if they are not in the field immediately upon the usual notice, they must expect to feel the overseer's lash. In crop time (which lasts many months) they are obliged, by turns, to work most of the night in the boiling house. Thus their owners, from a desire of making the greatest gain by the labour of their slaves, lay heavy burdens on them, and yet feed and cloath them very sparingly, and some scarce feed or cloath them at all; so that the poor creatures are obliged to shift for their living in the best manner they can, which occasions their being often killed in the neighbouring lands, stealing potatoes, or other food, to satisfy their hunger. And if they take any thing from the plantation they belong to, though under such pressing want, their owners will correct them severely for taking a little of what they have so hardly laboured for; whilst many of themselves riot in the greatest luxury and excess. It is matter of astonishment how a people, who, as a nation, are looked upon as generous and humane, and so much value themselves for their uncommon sense of the benefit of liberty, can live in the practice of such extreme oppression and inhumanity, without seeing the inconsistency of such conduct, and feeling great remorse. Nor is it less amazing to hear these men calmly making calculations about the strength and lives of their fellow men. In Jamaica, if six in ten of the new imported Negroes survive the seasoning, it is looked upon as a gaining purchase. And in most of the other plantations, if the Negroes live eight or nine years, their labour is reckoned a sufficient compensation for their cost. If calculations of this sort were made upon the strength and labour of beasts of burden, it would not appear so strange; but even then, a merciful man would certainly use his beast with more mercy than is usually shewn to the poor Negroes. Will not the groans, the dying groans, of this deeply afflicted and oppressed people reach heaven? and when the cup of iniquity is full, must not the inevitable consequence be, the pouring forth of the judgments of God upon their oppressors? But alas! is it not too manifest that this oppression has already long been the object of the divine displeasure? For what heavier judgment, what greater calamity, can befal any people, than to become subject to that hardness of heart, that forgetfulness of God, and insensibility to every religious impression, as well as that general depravation of manners, which so much prevails in these colonies, in proportion as they have more or less enriched themselves at the expence of the blood and bondage of the Negroes. It is a dreadful consideration, as a late author remarks, that out of the stock of eighty thousand Negroes in Barbadoes, there die every year five thousand more than are born in that island; which failure is probably in the same proportion in the other islands. In effect, this people is under a necessity of being entirely renewed every sixteen years. And what must we think of the management of a people, who, far from increasing greatly, as those who have no loss by war ought to do, must, in so short a time as sixteen years, without foreign recruits, be entirely consumed to a man! Is it not a christian doctrine, that the labourer is worthy of his hire? And hath not the Lord, by the mouth of his prophet, pronounced, \"Wo unto that man who buildeth his house by unrighteousness, and his chambers by wrong; who uses his neighbour's service without wages, and giveth him nought for his work?\" And yet the poor Negro slaves are constrained, like the beasts, by beating, to work hard without hire or recompence, and receive nothing from the hand of their unmerciful masters, but such a wretched provision as will scarce support them under their fatigues. The intolerable hardships many of the slaves undergo, are sufficiently proved by the shortness of their lives.And who are these miserable creatures, that receive such barbarous treatment from the planter? Can we restrain our just indignation, when we consider that they are undoubtedly his brethren! his neighbours! the children of the same Father, and some of those for whom Christ died, as truly as for the planter himself. Let the opulent planter, or merchant, prove that his Negro slave is not his brother, or that he is not his neighbour, in the scripture sense of these appellations; and if he is not able so to do, how will he justify the buying and selling of his brethren, as if they were of no more consideration than his cattle? The wearing them out with continual labour, before they have lived out half their days? The severe whipping and torturing them, even to death, if they resist his unsupportable tyranny? Let the hardiest slaveholder look forward to that tremendous day, when he must give an account to God of his stewardship; and let him seriously consider, whether, at such a time, he thinks he shall be able to satisfy himself, that any act of buying and selling, or the fate of war, or the birth of children in his house, plantation, or territories, or any other circumstance whatever, can give him such an absolute property in the persons of men, as will justify his retaining them as slaves, and treating them as beasts? Let him diligently consider whether there will not always remain to the slave a superior property or right to the fruit of his own labour; and more especially to his own person; that being which was given him by God, and which none but the Giver can justly claim? CHAP. IX. The advantage which would have accrued to the natives of Guinea, if the Europeans had acted towards them agreeable to the dictates of humanity and christianity. An inordinate desire of gain in the Europeans, the true occasion of the slave trade. Notice of the misrepresentations of the Negroes by most authors, in order to palliate the iniquity of the slave trade. Those misrepresentations refuted, particularly with respect to the Hottentot Negroes. From the foregoing accounts of the natural disposition of the Negroes, and the fruitfulness of most parts of Guinea, which are confirmed by authors of candour, who have wrote from their own knowledge, it may well be concluded, that the Negroes acquaintance with the Europeans might have been a happiness to them, if these last had not only bore the name, but had also acted the part, of Christians, and used their endeavours by example, as well as precept, to make them acquainted with the glad tidings of the gospel, which breathes peace and good will to man, and with that change of heart, that redemption from sin, which christianity proposeth; innocence and love might then have prevailed, nothing would have been wanting to complete the happiness of the simple Africans: but the reverse has happened; the Europeans, forgetful of their duty as men and christians, have conducted themselves in so iniquitous a manner, as must necessarily raise in the minds of the thoughtful and welldisposed Negroes, the utmost scorn and detestation of the very name of christians. All other considerations have given way to an infallible desire of gain, which has been the principal and moving cause of the most iniquitous and dreadful scene that was, perhaps, ever acted upon the face of the earth; instead of making use of that superior knowledge with which the Almighty, the common Parent of mankind, had favoured them, to strengthen the principle of peace and good will in the breasts of the incautious Negroes, the Europeans have, by their bad example, led them into excess of drunkenness, debauchery, and avarice; whereby every passion of corrupt nature being inflamed, they have been easily prevailed upon to make war, and captivate one another; as well to furnish means for the excesses they had been habituated to, as to satisfy the greedy desire of gain in their profligate employers, who to this intent have furnished them with prodigious quantities of arms and ammunition. Thus they have been hurried into confusion, distress, and all the extremities of temporal misery; every thing, even the power of their Kings, has been made subservient to this wicked purpose; for instead of being protectors of their subjects, some of those rulers, corrupted by the excessive love of spirituous liquors, and the tempting baits laid before them by the factors, have invaded the liberties of their unhappy subjects, and are become their oppressors. Here it may be necessary to observe, that the accounts we have of the inhabitants of Guinea, are chiefly given by persons engaged in the trade, who, from selfinterested views, have described them in such colours as were least likely to excite compassion and respect, and endeavoured to reconcile so manifest a violation of the rights of mankind to the minds of the purchasers; yet they cannot but allow the Negroes to be possessed of some good qualities, though they contrive as much as possible to cast a shade over them. A particular instance of this appears in Astley's collection, vol. 2. p. 73, where the author, speaking of the Mandingos settled at Galem, which is situated 900 miles up the Senegal, after saying that they carry on a commerce to all the neighbouring kingdoms, and amass riches, adds, \"That excepting the vices peculiar to the Blacks, they are a good sort of people, honest, hospitable, just to their word, laborious, industrious, and very ready to learn arts and sciences.\" Here it is difficult to imagine what vices can be peculiarly attendant on a people so well disposed as the author describes these to be. With respect to the charge some authors have brought against them, as being void of all natural affection, it is frequently contradicted by others. In vol. 2. of the Collection, p. 275, and 629, the Negroes of North Guinea, and the Gold Coast, are said to be fond of their children, whom they love with tenderness. And Bosman says, p. 340, \"Not a few in his country (viz. Holland) fondly imagine, that parents here sell their children, men their wives, and one brother the other: but those who think so deceive themselves; for this never happens on any other account but that of necessity, or some great crime.\" The same is repeated by J. Barbot, page 326, and also confirmed by Sir Hans Sloane, in the introduction to his natural history of Jamaica; where speaking of the Negroes, he says, \"They are usually thought to be haters of their own children, and therefore it is believed that they sell and dispose of them to strangers for money: but this is not true; for the Negroes of Guinea being divided into several captainships, as well as the Indians of America, have wars; and besides those slain in battle, many prisoners are taken, who are sold as slaves, and brought thither: but the parents here, although their children are slaves for ever, yet have so great love for them, that no master dares sell, or give away, one of their little ones, unless they care not whether their parents hang themselves or no.\" J. Barbot, speaking of the occasion of the natives of Guinea being represented as a treacherous people, ascribes it to the Hollanders (and doubtless other Europeans) usurping authority, and fomenting divisions between the Negroes. At page 110, he says, \"It is well known that many of the European nations trading amongst these people, have very unjustly and inhumanly, without any provocation, stolen away, from time to time, abundance of the people, not only on this coast, but almost every where in Guinea, who have come on board their ships in a harmless and confiding manner: these they have in great numbers carried away, and sold in the plantations, with other slaves which they had purchased.\" And although some of the Negroes may be justly charged with indolence and supineness, yet many others are frequently mentioned by authors as a careful, industrious, and even laborious people. But nothing shews more clearly how unsafe it is to form a judgment of distant people from the accounts given of them by travellers, who have taken but a transient view of things, than the case of the Hottentots, viz. those several nations of Negroes who inhabit the most southern part of Africa: these people are represented by several authors, who appear to have very much copied their relations one from the other, as so savage and barbarous as to have little of human, but the shape: but these accounts are strongly contradicted by others, particularly Peter Kolben, who has given a circumstantial relation of the disposition and manners of those people.A He was a man of learning, sent from the court of Prussia solely to make astronomical and natural observations there; and having no interest in the slavery of the Negroes, had not the same inducement as most other relators had, to misrepresent the natives of Africa. He resided eight years at and about the Cape of Good Hope, during which time he examined with great care into the customs, manners, and opinions of the Hottentots; whence he sets these people in a quite different light from what they appeared in former authors, whom he corrects, and blames for the falsehoods they have wantonly told of them. At p. 61, he says, \"The details we have in several authors, are for the most part made up of inventions and hearsays, which generally prove false.\" Nevertheless, he allows they are justly to be blamed for their sloth.The love of liberty and indolence is their all; compulsion is death to them. While necessity obliges them to work, they are very tractable, obedient, and faithful; but when they have got enough to satisfy the present want, they are deaf to all further intreaty. He also faults them for their nastiness, the effect of sloth; and for their love of drink, and the practice of some unnatural customs, which long use has established amongst them; which, nevertheless, from the general good disposition of these people, there is great reason to believe they might be persuaded to refrain from, if a truly christian care had been extended towards them. He says, \"They are eminently distinguished by many virtues, as their mutual benevolence, friendship, and hospitality; they breathe kindness and good will to one another, and seek all opportunities of obliging. Is a Hottentot's assistance required by one of his countrymen? he runs to give it. Is his advice asked? he gives it with sincerity. Is his countryman in want? he relieves him to the utmost of his power.\" Their hospitality extends even to European strangers: in travelling thro' the Cape countries, you meet with a chearful and open reception, in whatsoever village you come to. In short, he says, page 339, \"The integrity of the Hottentots, their strictness and celerity in the execution of justice, and their charity, are equalled by few nations. In alliances, their word is sacred; there being hardly any thing they look upon as a fouler crime than breach of engagements. Theft and adultery they punish with death.\" They firmly believe there is a God, the author of all things, whom they call the God of gods; but it does not appear that they have an institution of worship directly regarding this supreme Deity. When pressed on this article, they excuse themselves by a tradition, \"That their first parents so grievously offended this great God, that he cursed them and their posterity with hardness of heart; so that they know little about him, and have less inclination to serve him.\" As has been already remarked, these Hottentots are the only Negroe nations bordering on the sea, we read of, who are not concerned in making or keeping slaves. Those slaves made use of by the Hollanders at the Cape, are brought from other parts of Guinea. Numbers of these people told the author, \"That the vices they saw prevail amongst christians; their avarice, their envy and hatred of one another; their restless discontented tempers; their lasciviousness and injustice, were the things that principally kept the Hottentots from hearkening to christianity.\" Footnote A: See Kolban's account of the Cape of Good Hope. Father Tachard, a French Jesuit, famous for his travels in the East Indies, in his account of these people, says, \"The Hottentots have more honesty, love, and liberality for one another, than are almost anywhere seen amongst christians.\" CHAP. X. Manstealing esteemed highly criminal, and punishable by the laws of Guinea: No Negroes allowed to be sold for slaves there, but those deemed prisoners of war, or in punishment for crimes. Some of the Negroe rulers, corrupted by the Europeans, violently infringe the laws of Guinea. The King of Barsailay noted in that respect. By an inquiry into the laws and customs formerly in use, and still in force amongst the Negroes, particularly on the Gold Coast, it will be found, that provision was made for the general peace, and for the safety of individuals; even in W. Bosman's time, long after the Europeans had established the slavetrade, the natives were not publicly enslaved, any otherwise than in punishment for crimes, when prisoners of war, or by a violent exertion of the power of their corrupted Kings. Where any of the natives were stolen, in order to be sold to the Europeans, it was done secretly, or at least, only connived at by those in power: this appears From Barbot and Bosman's account of the matter, both agreeing that manstealing was not allowed on the Gold Coast. The firstA says, \"Kidnapping or stealing of human creatures is punished there, and even sometimes with death.\" And, W. Bosman, whose long residence on the coast, enabled him to speak with certainty, says,B \"That the laws were severe against murder, thievery, and adultery.\" And adds, \"That manstealing was punished on the Gold Coast with rigid severity and sometimes with death itself.\" Hence it may be concluded, that the sale of the greatest part of the Negroes to the Europeans is supported by violence, in defiance of the laws, through the knavery of their principal men,C who, (as is too often the case with those in European countries) under pretence of encouraging trade, and increasing the public revenue, disregard the dictates of justice, and trample upon those liberties which they are appointed to preserve. Footnote A: Barbot, p. 303. Footnote B: Bosman, p. 143. Footnote C: Note. Barbot, page 270, says, the trade of slaves is in a more peculiar manner the business of Kings, rich men, and prime merchants, exclusive of the inferior sort of blacks. Fr. Moor also mentions manstealing as being discountenanced by the Negroe Governments on the river Gambia, and speaks of the inslaving the peaceable inhabitants, as a violence which only happens under a corrupt administration of justice; he says,A \"The Kings of that country generally advise with their head men, scarcely doing any thing of consequence, without consulting them first, except the King of Barsailay, who being subject to hard drinking, is very absolute. It is to this King's insatiable thirst for brandy, that his subjects freedoms and families are in so precarious a situation.B Whenever this King wants goods or brandy, he sends a messenger to the English Governor at James Fort, to desire he would send a sloop there with a cargo: this news, being not at all unwelcome, the Governor sends accordingly; against the arrival of the sloop, the King goes and ransacks some of his enemies towns, seizing the people, and selling them for such commodities as he is in want of, which commonly are brandy, guns, powder, balls, pistols, and cutlasses, for his attendants and soldiers; and coral and silver for his wives and concubines. In case he is not at war with any neighbouring King, he then falls upon one of his own towns, which are numerous, and uses them in the same manner.\" \"He often goes with some of his troops by a town in the day time, and returning in the night, sets fire to three parts of it, and putting guards at the fourth, there seizes the people as they run out from the fire; he ties their arms behind them, and marches them either to Joar or Cohone, where he sells them to the Europeans.\" Footnote A: Moor, page 61. Footnote B: Idem, p. 46. A. Brue, the French director, gives much the same account, and says,A \"That having received goods, he wrote to the King, that if he had a sufficient number of slaves, he was ready to trade with him. This Prince, as well as the other Negroe monarchs, has always a sure way of supplying his deficiencies, by selling his own subjects, for which they seldom want a pretence. The King had recourse to this method, by seizing three hundred of his own people, and sent word to the director, that he had the slaves ready to deliver for the goods.\" It seems, the King wanted double the quantity of goods which the factor would give him for these three hundred slaves; but the factor refusing to trust him, as he was already in the company's debt, and perceiving that this refusal had put the King much out of temper, he proposed that he should give him a licence for taking so many more of his people, as the goods he still wanted were worth but this the King refused, saying \"It might occasion a disturbance amongst his subjects.\"B Except in the above instance, and some others, where the power of the Negroe Kings is unlawfully exerted over their subjects, the slavetrade is carried on in Guinea with some regard to the laws of the country, which allow of none to be sold, but prisoners taken in their national wars, or people adjudged to slavery in punishment for crimes; but the largeness of the country, the number of kingdoms or commonwealths, and the great encouragement given by the Europeans, afford frequent pretences and opportunities to the bold designing profligates of one kingdom, to surprize and seize upon not only those of a neighbouring government, but also the weak and helpless of their own;C and the unhappy people, taken on those occasions, are, with impunity, sold to the Europeans. These practices are doubtless disapproved of by the most considerate amongst the Negroes, for Bosman acquaints us, that even their national wars are not agreeable to such. He says,D \"If the person who occasioned the beginning of the war be taken, they will not easily admit him to ransom, though his weight in gold should be offered, for fear he should in future form some new design against their repose.\" Footnote A: Collection vol. 2. p. 29. Footnote B: Note, This Negroe King thus refusing to comply with the factor's wicked proposal, shews, he was sensible his own conduct was not justifiable; and it likewise appears, the factor's only concern was to procure the greatest number of slaves, without any regard to the injustice of the method by which they were procured. This Andrew Brue, was, for a long time, principal director of the French African factory in those parts; in the management of which, he is in the collection said to have had extraordinary success. The part he ought to have acted as a christian towards the ignorant Africans seems quite out of the question; the profit of his employers appears to have been his sole concern. At page 62, speaking of the country on the Senegal river, he says, \"It was very populous, the soil rich; and if the people were industrious, they might, of their own produce, carry on a very advantageous trade with strangers; there being but few things in which they could be excelled; but (he adds) it is to be hoped, the Europeans will never let them into the secret.\" A remark unbecoming humanity, much more christianity! Footnote C: This inhuman practice is particularly described by Brue, in collect. vol. 2. page 98, where he says, \"That some of the natives are, on all occasions, endeavouring to surprize and carry off their country people. They land (says he) without noise, and if they find a lone cottage, without defence, they surround it, and carry off all the people and effects to their boat, and immediately reimbark.\" This seems to be mostly practised by some Negroes who dwell on the sea coast. Footnote D: Bosman, p. 155. CHAP. XI. An account of the shocking inhumanity, used in the carrying on of the slavetrade, as described by factors of different nations, viz. by Francis Moor, on the river Gambia; and by John Barbot, A. Brue, and William Bosman, through the coast of Guinea. Note. Of the large revenues arising to the Kings of Guinea from the slavetrade. First, Francis Moor, factor for the English African company, on the river Gambia,A writes, \"That there are a number of Negro traders, called joncoes, or merchants, who follow the slavetrade as a business; their place of residence is so high up in the country as to be six weeks travel from James Fort, which is situate at the mouth of that river. These merchants bring down elephants teeth, and in some years two thousand slaves, most of which, they say, are prisoners taken in war. They buy them from the different Princes who take them; many of them are Bumbrongs and Petcharies; nations, who each of them have different languages, and are brought from a vast way inland. Their way of bringing them is tying them by the neck with leather thongs, at about a yard distant from each other, thirty or forty in a string, having generally a bundle of corn or elephants teeth upon each of their heads. In their way from the mountains, they travel thro' very great woods, where they cannot for some days get water; so they carry in skin bags enough to support them for a time. I cannot (adds Moor) be certain of the number of merchants who follow this trade, but there may, perhaps, be about an hundred, who go up into the inland country, with the goods which they buy from the white men, and with them purchase, in various countries, gold, slaves, and elephants teeth. Besides the slaves, which the merchants bring down, there are many bought along the river: These are either taken in war, as the former are, or men condemned for crimes; or else people stolen, which is very frequent.Since the slavetrade has been used, all punishments are changed into slavery; there being an advantage on such condemnation, they strain for crimes very hard, in order to get the benefit of selling the criminal.\" Footnote A: Moor, page 28. John Barbot, the French factor, in his account of the manner by which the slaves are procured, says,A \"The slaves sold by the Negroes, are for the most part prisoners of war, or taken in the incursions they make in their enemies territories; others are stolen away by their neighbours, when found abroad on the road, or in the woods; or else in the corn fields, at the time of the year when their parents keep them there all the day to scare away the devouring small birds.\" Speaking of the transactions on that part of Guinea called the Slave Coast, where the Europeans have the most factories, and from whence they bring away much the greatest number of slaves, the same author, and also BosmanB says, \"The inhabitants of Coto do much mischief, in stealing those slaves they sell to the Europeans, from the upland country.That the inhabitants of Popo excell the former; being endowed with a much larger share of courage, they rob more successfully, by which means they increase their riches and trade,\" The author particularly remarks, \"That they are encouraged in this practice by the Europeans; sometimes it happens, according to the success of their inland excursions, that they are able to furnish two hundred slaves or more, in a few days.\" And he says,C \"The blacks of Fida, or Whidah, are so expeditious in trading for slaves, that they can deliver a thousand every month.\"\"If there happens to be no stock of slaves there, the factor must trust the blacks with his goods, to the value of one hundred and fifty, or two hundred pounds; which goods they carry up into the inland country, to buy slaves at all markets,D for above six hundred miles up the country, where they are kept like cattle in Europe; the slaves sold there being generally prisoners of war, taken from their enemies like other booty, and perhaps some few sold by their own countrymen, in extreme want, or upon a famine, as also some as a punishment of heinous crimes.\" So far Barbot's account; that given by William Bosman is as follows:E \"When the slaves which are brought from the inland countries come to Whidah, they are put in prison together; when we treat concerning buying them, they are all brought out together in a large plain, where, by our surgeons, they are thoroughly examined, and that naked, both men and women, without the least distinction or modesty.F Those which are approved as good, are set on one side; in the mean while a burning iron, with the arms or name of the company, lies in the fire, with which ours are marked on the breast. When we have agreed with the owners of the slaves, they are returned to their prisons, where, from that time forward, they are kept at our charge, and cost us two pence a day each slave, which serves to subsist them like criminals on bread and water; so that to save charges, we send them on board our ships the very first opportunity; before which, their masters strip them of all they have on their backs, so that they come on board stark naked, as well women as men. In which condition they are obliged to continue, if the master of the ship is not so charitable (which he commonly is) as to bestow something on them to cover their nakedness. Six or seven hundred are sometimes put on board a vessel, where they lie as close together as it is possible for them to be crowded.\" Footnote A: John Barbot, page 47. Footnote B: Bosman, page 310. Footnote C: Barbot, page 326. Footnote D: When the great income which arises to the Negroe Kings on the SlaveCoast, from the slaves brought thro' their several governments, to be shipped on board the European vessels, is considered, we have no cause to wonder that they give so great a countenance to that trade: William Bosman says, page 337, \"That each ship which comes to Whidah to trade, reckoning one with another, either by toll, trade, or custom, pays about four hundred pounds, and sometimes fifty ships come hither in a year.\" Barbot confirms the same, and adds, page 350, \"That in the neighbouring kingdom of Ardah, the duty to the King is the value of seventy or eighty slaves for each trading ship.\" Which is near half as much more as at Whidah; nor can the Europeans, concerned in the trade, with any degree of propriety, blame the African Kings for countenancing it, while they continue to send vessels, on purpose to take in the slaves which are thus stolen, and that they are permitted, under the sanction of national laws, to sell them to the colonies. Footnote E: Bosman, page 340. Footnote F: Note, from the above account of the indecent and shocking manner in which the unhappy Negroes are treated, it is reasonable for persons unacquainted with these people, to conclude them to be void of that natural modesty, so becoming a reasonable creature; but those who have had intercourse with the Blacks in these northern colonies, know that this would be a wrong conclusion, for they are indeed as susceptible of modesty and shame as other people. It is the unparallel'd brutality, to which the Europeans have, by long custom, been inured, which urgeth them, without blushing, to act so shameful a part. Such usage is certainly grievous to the poor Negroes, particularly the women; but they are slaves, and must submit to this, or any other abuse that is offered them by their cruel taskmasters, or expect to be inhumanly tormented into acquiescence. That the Blacks are unaccustomed to such brutality, appears from an instance mentioned in Ashley's collection, vol. 2. page 201, viz. \"At an audience which Casseneuve had of the King of Congo, where he was used with a great deal of civility by the Blacks, some slaves were delivered to him. The King observing Casseneuve (according to the custom of the Europeans) to handle the limbs of the slaves, burst out a laughing, as did the great men about him: the factor asking the interpreter the occasion of their mirth, was told it proceeded from his so nicely examining the slaves. Nevertheless, the King was so ashamed of it, that he desired him, for decency's sake, to do it in a more private manner.\" CHAP. XII. Extracts of several Journals of Voyages to the coast of Guinea for slaves, whereby the extreme inhumanity of that traffick is described. Melancholy account of a ship blown up on that coast, with a great number of Negroes on board, Instances of shocking barbarity perpetrated by masters of vessels towards their slaves. Inquiry why these scandalous infringements, both of divine and human laws, are overlooked by the government. The misery and bloodshed attendant on the slavetrade, are set forth by the following extracts of two voyages to the coast of Guinea for slaves. The first in a vessel from Liverpool, taken verbatim from the original manuscript of the Surgeon's Journal, viz. \"Sestro, December the 29th, 1724, No trade to day, though many traders came on board; they informed us, that the people are gone to war within land, and will bring prisoners enough in two or three days, in hopes of which we stay.\" The 30th. \"No trade yet, but our traders came on board to day, and informed us the people had burnt four towns of their enemies, so that tomorrow we expect slaves off: another large ship is come in. Yesterday came in a large Londoner.\" The 31st. \"Fair weather, but no trade yet; we see each night towns burning, but we hear the Sestro men are many of them killed by the inland Negroes, so that we fear this war will be unsuccessful.\" The 2d of January. \"Last night we saw a prodigious fire break out about eleven o'clock, and this morning see the town of Sestro burnt down to the ground; (it contained some hundreds of houses) So that we find their enemies are too hard for them at present, and consequently our trade spoiled here; therefore, about seven o'clock, we weighed anchor, as did likewise the three other vessels, to proceed lower down.\" The second relation, also taken from the original manuscript Journal of a person of credit, who went surgeon on the same trade, in a vessel from NewYork, about twenty years past, is as follows; viz. \"Being on the coast, the Commander of the vessel, according to custom, sent a person on shore with a present to the King, acquainting him with his arrival, and letting him know, they wanted a cargo of slaves. The King promised to furnish them with the slaves; and, in order to do it, set out to go to war against his enemies; designing to surprise some town, and take all the people prisoners. Some time after, the King sent them word, he had not yet met with the desired success; having been twice repulsed, in attempting to break up two towns, but that he still hoped to procure a number of slaves for them; and in this design he persisted, till he met his enemies in the field, where a battle was fought, which lasted three days, during which time the engagement was so bloody that four thousand five hundred men were slain on the spot.\" The person who wrote the account, beheld the bodies, as they lay on the field of battle. \"Think (says he in his Journal) what a pitiable sight it was, to see the widows weeping over their lost husbands, orphans deploring the loss of their fathers, c. c.\" In he 6th vol. of Churchill's collection of Voyages, page 219, we have the relation of a voyage performed by Captain Philips, in a ship of 450 tuns, along the coast of Guinea, for elephants teeth, gold, and Negroe slaves, intended for Barbadoes; in which he says, that they took \"seven hundred slaves on board, the men being all put in irons two by two, shackled together to prevent their mutinying or swimming ashore. That the Negroes are so loth to leave their own country, that they often leap out of the canoe, boat, or ship, into the sea, and keep under water till they are drowned, to avoid being taken up, and saved by the boats which pursue them.\"They had about twelve Negroes who willingly drowned themselves; others starved themselves to death.Philips was advised to cut off the legs and arms of some to terrify the rest, (as other Captains had done) but this he refused to do. From the time of his taking the Negroes on board, to his arrival at Barbadoes, no less than three hundred and twenty died of various diseases.A Footnote A: The following relation is inserted at the request of the author. That I may contribute all in my power towards the good of mankind, by inspiring any individuals with a suitable abhorrence of that detestable practice of trading in our fellowcreatures, and in some measure atone for my neglect of duty as a Christian, in engaging in that wicked traffic, I offer to their serious consideration some few occurrences, of which I was an eyewitness; that being struck with the wretched and affecting scene, they may foster that humane principle, which is the noble and distinguished characteristic of man, and improve it to the benefit of their children's children. About the year 1749, I sailed from Liverpool to the coast of Guinea. Some time after our arrival, I was ordered to go up the country a considerable distance, upon having notice from one of the Negroe Kings, that he had a parcel of slaves to dispose of. I received my instructions, and went, carrying with me an account of such goods as we had on board, to exchange for the slaves we intended to purchase. Upon being introduced, I presented him with a small case of English spirits, a gun, and some trifles; which having accepted, and understood by an interpreter what goods we had, the next day was appointed for viewing the slaves; we found about two hundred confined in one place. But here how shall I relate the affecting sight I there beheld! How can I sufficiently describe the silent sorrow which appeared in the countenance of the afflicted father, and the painful anguish of the tender mother, expecting to be for ever separated from their tender offspring; the distressed maid, wringing her hands in presage of her future wretchedness, and the general cry of the innocent from a dreadful apprehension of the perpetual slavery to which they were doomed! Under a sense of my offence to God, in the persons of his creatures, I acknowledge I purchased eleven, whom I conducted tied two and two to the ship. Being but a small ship, (ninety ton) we soon purchased our cargo, consisting of one hundred and seventy slaves, whom thou mayest, reader, range in thy view, as they were shackled two and two together, pent up within the narrow confines of the main deck, with the complicated distress of sickness, chains, and contempt; deprived of every fond and social tie, and, in a great measure, reduced to a state of desperation. We had not been a fortnight at sea, before the fatal consequence of this despair appeared; they formed a design of recovering their natural right, LIBERTY, by rising and murdering every man on board; but the goodness of the Almighty rendered their scheme abortive, and his mercy spared us to have time to repent. The plot was discovered; the ringleader, tied by the two thumbs over the barricade door, at sunrise received a number of lashes: in this situation he remained till sunset, exposed to the insults and barbarity of the brutal crew of sailors, with full leave to exercise their cruelty at pleasure. The consequence of this was, that next morning the miserable sufferer was found dead, flayed from the shoulders to the waist. The next victim was a youth, who, from too strong a sense of his misery, refused nourishment, and died disregarded and unnoticed, till the hogs had fed on part of his flesh. Will not christianity blush at this impious sacrilege? May the relation of it serve to call back the struggling remains of humanity in the hearts of those, who, from a love of wealth, partake in any degree of this oppressive gain; and have such an effect on the minds of the sincere, as may be productive of peace, the happy effect of true repentance for past transgressions, and a resolution to renounce all connexion with it for the time to come. Reader, bring the matter home to thy own heart, and consider whether any situation can be more completely miserable than that of these distressed captives. When we reflect that each individual of this number had probably some tender attachment, which was broken by this cruel separation; some parent or wife, who had not an opportunity of mingling tears in a parting embrace; perhaps some infants, or aged parents, whom his labour was to feed, and vigilance protect; themselves under the most dreadful apprehension of an unknown perpetual slavery; confined within the narrow limits of a vessel, where often several hundreds lie as close as possible. Under these aggravated distresses, they are often reduced to a state of despair, in which many have been frequently killed, and some deliberately put to death under the greatest torture, when they have attempted to rise, in order to free themselves from present misery, and the slavery designed them. Many accounts of this nature might be mentioned; indeed from the vast number of vessels employed in the trade, and the repeated relations in the public prints of Negroes rising on board the vessels from Guinea, it is more than probable, that many such instances occur every year. I shall only mention one example of this kind, by which the reader may judge of the rest; it is in Astley's collection, vol. 2. p. 449, related by John Atkins, surgeon on board admiral Ogle's squadron, of one \"Harding, master of a vessel in which several of the menslaves and womenslaves had attempted to rise, in order to recover their liberty; some of whom the master, of his own authority, sentenced to cruel death, making them first eat the heart and liver of one of those he had killed. The woman he hoisted by the thumbs, whipped, and slashed with knives before the other slaves, till she died.\"A As detestable and shocking as this may appear to such whose hearts are not yet hardened by the practice of that cruelty, which the love of wealth by degrees introduceth into the human mind, it will not be strange to those who have been concerned or employed in the trade. Footnote A: A memorable instance of some of the dreadful effects of the slavetrade, happened about five years past, on a ship from this port, then at anchor about three miles from shore, near Acra Fort, on the coast of Guinea. They had purchased between four and five hundred Negroes, and were ready to sail for the West Indies. It is customary on board those vessels, to keep the men shackled two by two, each by one leg to a small iron bar; these are every day brought on the deck for the benefit of air; and lest they should attempt to recover their freedom, they are made fast to two common chains, which are extended on each side the main deck; the women and children are loose. This was the situation of the slaves on board this vessel, when it took fire by means of a person who was drawing spirits by the light of a lamp; the cask bursting, the fire spread with so much violence, that in about ten minutes, the sailors, apprehending it impossible to extinguish it before it could reach a large quantity of powder they had on board, concluded it necessary to cast themselves into the sea, as the only chance of saving their lives; and first they endeavoured to loose the chains by which the Negroe men were fastened to the deck; but in the confusion the key being missing, they had but just time to loose one of the chains by wrenching the staple; when the vehemence of the fire so increased, that they all but one man jumped over board, when immediately the fire having gained the powder, the vessel blew up with all the slaves who remained fastened to the one chain, and such others as had not followed the sailors examples. There happened to be three Portugueze vessels in sight, who, with others from the shore, putting out their boats, took up about two hundred and fifty of those poor souls who remained alive; of which number, about fifty died on shore, being mostly of those who were fettered together by iron shackles, which, as they jumped into the sea, had broke their legs, and these fractures being inflamed by so long a struggle in the sea, probably mortified, which occasioned the death of every one that was so wounded. The two hundred remaining alive, were soon disposed of, for account of the owners to other purchasers. Now here arises a necessary query to those who hold the balance of justice, and who must be accountable to God for the use they have made of it, That as the principles on which the British constitution is founded, are so favourable to the common rights of mankind, how it has happened that the laws which countenance this iniquitous traffic, have obtained the sanction of the legislature? and that the executive part of the government should so long shut their ears to continual reports of the barbarities perpetrated against this unhappy people, and leave the trading subjects at liberty to trample on the most precious rights of others, even without a rebuke? Why are the masters of vessels thus suffered to be the sovereign arbiters of the lives of the miserable Negroes, and allowed with impunity thus to destroy (may I not properly say, to murder) their fellowcreatures; and that by means so cruel, as cannot be even related but with shame and horror? CHAP. XIII. Usage of the Negroes, when they arrive in the West Indies. An hundred thousand Negroes brought from Guinea every year to the English colonies. The number of Negroes who die in the passage and seasoning. These are, properly speaking, murdered by the prosecution of this infamous traffic. Remarks on its dreadful effects and tendency. When the vessels arrive at their destined port in the colonies, the poor Negroes are to be disposed of to the planters; and here they are again exposed naked, without any distinction of sexes, to the brutal examination of their purchasers; and this, it may well be judged, is, to many, another occasion of deep distress. Add to this, that near connexions must now again be separated, to go with their several purchasers; this must be deeply affecting to all, but such whose hearts are seared by the love of gain. Mothers are seen hanging over their daughters, bedewing their naked breasts with tears, and daughters clinging to their parents, not knowing what new stage of distress must follow their separation, or whether they shall ever meet again. And here what sympathy, what commiseration, do they meet with? Why, indeed, if they will not separate as readily as their owners think proper, the whipper is called for, and the lash exercised upon their naked bodies, till obliged to part. Can any human heart, which is not become callous by the practice of such cruelties, be unconcerned, even at the relation of such grievous affliction, to which this oppressed part of our species are subjected. In a book, printed in Liverpool, called The Liverpool Memorandum, which contains, amongst other things, an account of the trade of that port, there is an exact list of the vessels employed in the Guinea trade, and of the number of slaves imported in each vessel; by which it appears that in the year 1753, the number imported to America by one hundred and one vessels belonging to that port, amounted to upwards of thirty thousand; and from the number of vessels employed by the African company in London and Bristol, we may, with some degree of certainty, conclude, there are one hundred thousand Negroes purchased and brought on board our ships yearly from the coast of Africa. This is confirmed in Anderson's history of Trade and Commerce, lately printed; where it is said,A \"That England supplies her American colonies with Negroe slaves, amounting in number to above one hundred thousand every year.\" When the vessels are full freighted with slaves, they sail for our plantations in America, and may be two or three months in the voyage; during which time, from the filth and stench that is among them, distempers frequently break out, which carry off commonly a fifth, a fourth, yea sometimes a third or more of them: so that taking all the slaves together, that are brought on board our ships yearly, one may reasonably suppose, that at least ten thousand of them die on the voyage. And in a printed account of the state of the Negroes in our plantations, it is supposed that a fourth part, more or less, die at the different islands, in what is called the seasoning. Hence it may be presumed, that at a moderate computation of the slaves who are purchased by our African merchants in a year, near thirty thousand die upon the voyage, and in the seasoning. Add to this, the prodigious number who are killed in the incursions and intestine wars, by which the Negroes procure the number of slaves wanted to load the vessels. How dreadful then is this slavetrade, whereby so many thousands of our fellow creatures, free by nature, endued with the same rational faculties, and called to be heirs of the same salvation with us, lose their lives, and are, truly and properly speaking, murdered every year! For it is not necessary, in order to convict a man of murder, to make it appear that he had an intention to commit murder; whoever does, by unjust force or violence, deprive another of his liberty, and, while he hath him in his power, continues so to oppress him by cruel treatment, as eventually to occasion his death, is actually guilty of murder. It is enough to make a thoughtful person tremble, to think what a load of guilt lies upon our nation on this account; and that the blood of thousands of poor innocent creatures, murdered every year in the prosecution of this wicked trade, cries aloud to Heaven for vengeance. Were we to hear or read of a nation that destroyed every year, in some other way, as many human creatures as perish in this trade, we should certainly consider them as a very bloody, barbarous people; if it be alledged, that the legislature hath encouraged, and still does encourage this trade, It is answered, that no legislature on earth can alter the nature of things, so as to make that to be right which is contrary to the law of God, (the supreme Legislator and Governor of the world) and opposeth the promulgation of the Gospel of peace on earth, and good will to man. Injustice may be methodized and established by law, but still it will be injustice, as much as it was before; though its being so established may render men more insensible of the guilt, and more bold and secure in the perpetration of it. Footnote A: Appendix to Anderson's history, p. 68. CHAP. XIV. Observations on the disposition and capacity of the Negroes: Why thought inferior to that of the Whites. Affecting instances of the slavery of the Negroes. Reflections thereon. Doubts may arise in the minds of some, whether the foregoing accounts, relating to the natural capacity and good disposition of the inhabitants of Guinea, and of the violent manner in which they are said to be torn from their native land, are to be depended upon; as those Negroes who are brought to us, are not heard to complain, and do but seldom manifest such a docility and quickness of parts, as is agreeable thereto. But those who make these objections, are desired to note the many discouragements the poor Africans labour under, when brought from their native land. Let them consider, that those afflicted strangers, though in an enlightened Christian country, have yet but little opportunity or encouragement to exert and improve their natural talents: They are constantly employed in servile labour; and the abject condition in which we see them, naturally raises an idea of a superiority in ourselves; whence we are apt to look upon them as an ignorant and contemptible part of mankind. Add to this, that they meet with very little encouragement of freely conversing with such of the Whites, as might impart instruction to them. It is a fondness for wealth, for authority, or honour, which prompts most men in their endeavours to excell; but these motives can have little influence upon the minds of the Negroes; few of them having any reasonable prospect of any other than a state of slavery; so that, though their natural capacities were ever so good, they have neither inducement or opportunity to exert them to advantage: This naturally tends to depress their minds, and sink their spirits into habits of idleness and sloth, which they would, in all likelihood, have been free from, had they stood upon an equal footing with the white people. They are suffered, with impunity, to cohabit together, without being married; and to part, when solemnly engaged to one another as man and wife; notwithstanding the moral and religious laws of the land, strictly prohibiting such practices. This naturally tends to beget apprehensions in the most thoughtful of those people, that we look upon them as a lower race, not worthy of the same care, nor liable to the same rewards and punishments as ourselves. Nevertheless it may with truth be said, that both amongst those who have obtained their freedom, and those who remain in servitude, some have manifested a strong sagacity and an exemplary uprightness of heart. If this hath not been generally the case with them, is it a matter of surprize? Have we not reason to make the same complaint of many white servants, when discharged from our service, though many of them have had much greater opportunities of knowledge and improvement than the blacks; who, even when free, labour under the same difficulties as before: having but little access to, and intercourse with, the most reputable white people, they remain confined within their former limits of conversation. And if they seldom complain of the unjust and cruel usage they have received, in being forced from their native country, c. it is not to be wondered at; it being a considerable time after their arrival amongst us, before they can speak our language; and, by the time they are able to express themselves, they have great reason to believe, that little or no notice would be taken of their complaints: yet let any person enquire of those who were capable of reflection, before they were brought from their native land, and he will hear such affecting relations, as, if not lost to the common feelings of humanity, will sensibly affect his heart. The case of a poor Negroe, not long since brought from Guinea, is a recent instance of this kind. From his first arrival, he appeared thoughtful and dejected, frequently dropping tears when taking notice of his master's children, the cause of which was not known till he was able to speak English, when the account he gave of himself was, \"That he had a wife and children in his own country; that some of these being sick and thirsty, he went in the night time, to fetch water at a spring, where he was violently seized and carried away by persons who lay in wait to catch men, from whence he was transported to America. The remembrance of his family, friends, and other connections, left behind, which he never expected to see any more, were the principal cause of his dejection and grief.\" Many cases, equally affecting, might be here mentioned; but one more instance, which fell under the notice of a person of credit, will suffice. One of these wretched creatures, then about 50 years of age, informed him, \"That being violently torn from a wife and several children in Guinea, he was sold in Jamaica, where never expecting to see his native land or family any more, he joined himself to a Negroe woman, by whom he had two children: after some years, it suiting the interest of his owner to remove him, he was separated from his second wife and children, and brought to South Carolina, where, expecting to spend the remainder of his days, he engaged with a third wife, by whom he had another child; but here the same consequence of one man being subject to the will and pleasure of another man occurring, he was separated from this last wife and child, and brought into this country, where he remained a slave.\" Can any, whose mind is not rendered quite obdurate by the love of wealth, hear these relations, without being deeply touched with sympathy and sorrow? And doubtless the case of many, very many of these afflicted people, upon enquiry, would be found to be attended with circumstances equally tragical and aggravating. And if we enquire of those Negroes, who were brought away from their native country when children, we shall find most of them to have been stolen away, when abroad from their parents, on the roads, in the woods, or watching their cornfields. Now, you that have studied the book of conscience, and you that are learned in the law, what will you say to such deplorable cases? When, and how, have these oppressed people forfeited their liberty? Does not justice loudly call for its being restored to them? Have they not the same right to demand it, as any of us should have, if we had been violently snatched by pirates from our native land? Is it not the duty of every dispenser of justice, who is not forgetful of his own humanity, to remember that these are men, and to declare them free? Where instances of such cruelty frequently occur, and are neither enquired into, nor redressed, by those whose duty it is to seek judgment, and relieve the oppressed, Isaiah i. 17. what can be expected, but that the groans and cries of these sufferers will reach Heaven; and what shall we do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what will ye answer him? Did not he that made them, make us; and did not one fashion us in the womb? Job xxxi. 14. CHAP XIV. The expediency of a general freedom being granted to the Negroes considered. Reasons why it might be productive of advantage and safety to the Colonies. It is scarce to be doubted, but that the foregoing accounts will beget in the heart of the considerate readers an earnest desire to see a stop put to this complicated evil, but the objection with many is, What shall be done with those Negroes already imported, and born in our families? Must they be sent to Africa? That would be to expose them, in a strange land, to greater difficulties than many of them labour under at present. To let them suddenly free here, would be perhaps attended with no less difficulty; for, undiciplined as they are in religion and virtue, they might give a loose to those evil habits, which the fear of a master would have restrained. These are objections, which weigh with many well disposed people, and it must be granted, these are difficulties in the way; nor can any general change be made, or reformation effected, without some; but the difficulties are not so great but that they may be surmounted. If the government was so considerate of the iniquity and danger attending on this practice, as to be willing to seek a remedy, doubtless the Almighty would bless this good intention, and such methods would be thought of, as would not only put an end to the unjust oppression of the Negroes, but might bring them under regulations, that would enable them to become profitable members of society; for the furtherance of which, the following proposals are offered to consideration: That all farther importation of slaves be absolutely prohibited; and as to those born among us, after serving so long as may appear to be equitable, let them by law be declared free. Let every one, thus set free, be enrolled in the county courts, and be obliged to be a resident, during a certain number of years, within the said county, under the care of the overseers of the poor. Thus being, in some sort, still under the direction of governors, and the notice of those who were formerly acquainted with them, they would be obliged to act the more circumspectly, and make proper use of their liberty, and their children would have an opportunity of obtaining such instructions, as are necessary to the common occasions of life; and thus both parents and children might gradually become useful members of the community. And further, where the nature of the country would permit, as certainly the uncultivated condition of our southern and most western colonies easily would, suppose a small tract of land were assigned to every Negroe family, and they obliged to live upon and improve it, (when not hired out to work for the white people) this would encourage them to exert their abilities, and become industrious subjects. Hence, both planters and tradesmen would be plentifully supplied with chearful and willingminded labourers, much vacant land would be cultivated, the produce of the country be justly increased, the taxes for the support of government lessened to individuals, by the increase of taxables, and the Negroes, instead of being an object of terror,A as they certainly must be to the governments where their numbers are great, would become interested in their safety and welfare. Footnote A: The hard usage the Negroes meet with in the plantations, and the great disproportion between them and the white people, will always be a just cause of terror. In Jamaica, and some parts of SouthCarolina, it is supposed that there are fifteen blacks to one white. CHAP. XV. Answer to a mistaken opinion, that the warmth of the climate in the WestIndies, will not permit white people to labour there. No complaint of disability in the whites, in that respect, in the settlement of the islands. Idleness and diseases prevailed, as the use of slaves increased. The great advantage which might accrue to the British nation, if the slave trade was entirely laid aside, and a fair and friendly commerce established through the whole coast of Africa. It is frequently offered as an argument, in vindication of the use of Negroe slaves, that the warmth of the climate in the West Indies will not permit white people to labour in the culture of the land: but upon an acquaintance with the nature of the climate, and its effects upon such labouring white people, as are prudent and moderate in labour, and the use of spirituous liquors, this will be found to be a mistaken opinion. Those islands were, at first, wholly cultivated by white men; the encouragement they then met with, for a long course of years, was such as occasioned a great increase of people. Richard Ligon, in his history of Barbadoes, where he resided from the year 1647 to 1650, about 24 years after his first settlement, writes, \"that there were then fifty thousand souls on that island, besides Negroes; and that though the weather was very hot, yet not so scalding but that servants, both christians and slaves, laboured ten hours a day.\" By other accounts we gather, that the white people have since decreased to less than one half the number which was there at that time; and by relations of the first settlements of the other islands, we do not meet with any complaints of unfitness in the white people for labour there, before slaves were introduced. The island of Hispaniola, which is one of the largest of those islands, was at first planted by the Buccaneers, a set of hardy laborious men, who continued so for a long course of years; till following the example of their neighbours, in the purchase and use of Negroe slaves, idleness and excess prevailing, debility and disease naturally succeeded, and have ever since continued. If, under proper regulations, liberty was proclaimed through the colonies, the Negroes, from dangerous, grudging, halffed slaves, might become able, willingminded labourers. And if there was not a sufficient number of these to do the necessary work, a competent number of labouring people might be procured from Europe, which affords numbers of poor distressed objects, who, if not overlooked, with proper usage, might, in several respects, better answer every good purpose in performing the necessary labour in the islands, than the slaves now do. A farther considerable advantage might accrue to the British nation in general, if the slave trade was laid aside, by the cultivation of a fair, friendly, and humane commerce with the Africans; without which, it is not possible the inland trade of that country should ever be extended to the degree it is capable of; for while the spirit of butchery and making slaves of each other, is promoted by the Europeans amongst the Negroes, no mutual confidence can take place; nor will the Europeans be able to travel with safety into the heart of their country, to form and cement such commercial friendships and alliances, as might be necessary to introduce the arts and sciences amongst them, and engage their attention to instruction in the principles of the christian religion, which is the only sure foundation of every social virtue. Africa has about ten thousand miles of sea coast, and extends in depth near three thousand miles from east to west, and as much from north to south, stored with vast treasures of materials, necessary for the trade and manufactures of GreatBritain; and from its climate, and the fruitfulness of its soil, capable, under proper management, of producing in the greatest plenty, most of the commodities which are imported into Europe from those parts of America subject to the English government;A and as, in return, they would take our manufactures, the advantages of this trade would soon become so great, that it is evident this subject merits the regard and attention of the government. Footnote A: See note, page 109. EXTRACT FROM A REPRESENTATION OF THE INJUSTICE AND DANGEROUS TENDENCY OF TOLERATING SLAVERY; OR Admitting the least CLAIM of private Property in the Persons of Men in England. By GRANVILLE SHARP. FIRST PRINTED IN LONDON. MDCCLXIX. CONTENTS. The occasion of this Treatise. All Persons during their residence in Great Britain are subjects; and as such, bound to the laws, and under the Kings protection. By the English laws, no man, of what condition soever, to be imprisoned, or any way deprived of his LIBERTY, without a legal process. The danger of Slavery taking place in England. Prevails in the Northern Colonies, notwithstanding the people's plea in favour of Liberty. Advertisements in the NewYork Journal for the sale of SLAVES. Advertisements to the same purpose in the public prints in England. The danger of confining any person without a legal warrant. Instances of that nature. Note, Extract of several American laws, Reflexions thereon. EXTRACT, C. Some persons respectable in the law, having given it as their opinion, \"That a slave, by coming from the West Indies to Great Britain or Ireland, either with or without his master, doth not become free, or that his master's property or right in him is not thereby determined or varied;and that the master may legally compel him to return again to the plantations,\"this causes our author to remark, that these lawyers, by thus stating the case merely on one side of the question, (I mean in favour of the master) have occasioned an unjust presumption and prejudice, plainly inconsistent with the laws of the realm, and against the other side of the question; as they have not signified that their opinion was only conditional, and not absolute, and must be understood on the part of the master, \"That he can produce an authentic agreement or contract in writing, by which it shall appear, that the said slave hath voluntarily bound himself, without compulsion or illegal duress.\" Page 5. Indeed there are many instances of persons being freed from slavery by the laws of England, but (God be thanked) there is neither law, nor even a precedent, (at least I have not been able to find one) of a legal determination to justify a master in claiming or detaining any person whatsoever as a slave in England, who has not voluntarily bound himself as such by a contract in writing. Page 20. An English subject cannot be made a slave without his own free consent: buta foreign slave is made a subject with or without his own consent: there needs no contract for this purpose, as in the other case; nor any other act or deed whatsoever, but that of his being landed in England; For according to statute 32d of Henry VIII. c. 16. Sect. 9. \"Every alien or stranger born out of the King's obeisance, not being denizen, which now or hereafter shall come into this realm, or elsewhere within the King's dominions, shall, after the said first of September next coming, be bounden by and unto the laws and statutes of this realm, and to all and singular the contents of the same.\" Now it must be observed, that this law makes no distinction of bond or free, neither of colours or complexions, whether of black, brown, or white; for \"every alien or stranger (without exception) are bounden by and unto the law, c.\" This binding, or obligation, is properly expressed by the English word ligeance, ( ligando) which may be either perpetual or temporary. Wood, b. I. c. 3. p. 37. But one of these is indispensably due to the Sovereign from all ranks and conditions of people; their being bounden unto the laws, (upon which the Sovereign's right is founded) expresses and implies this subjection to the laws; and therefore to alledge, that an alien is not a subject, because he is in bondage, is not only a plea without foundation, but a contradiction in terms; for every person who, in any respect, is in subjection to the laws, must undoubtedly be a subject. I come now to the main point\"That every man, woman, or child, that now is, or hereafter shall be, an inhabitant or resiant of this kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or town of Berwick upon Tweed,\" is, in some respect or other, the King's subject, and, as such, is absolutely secure in his or her personal liberty, by virtue of a statute, 31st Car. II. ch. 11. and particularly by the 12th Sect. of the same, wherein subjects of all conditions are plainly included. This act is expressly intended for the better securing the liberty of the subject, and for prevention of imprisonment beyond the seas. It contains no distinction of \"natural born, naturalized, denizen, or alien subject; nor of white or black, freemen, or even of bondmen,\" (except in the case already mentioned of a contract in writing, by which it shall appear, that the said slave has voluntarily bound himself, without compulsion or illegal duress, allowed by the 13th Sect. and the exception likewise in the 14th Sect. concerning felons) but they are all included under the general titles of \"the subject, any of the said subjects, every such person\" c. Now the definition of the word \"person,\" in its relative or civil capacity (according to Wood. b. I. c. 11. p. 27.) is either the King, or a subject. These are the only capital distinctions that can be made, tho' the latter consists of a variety of denominations and degrees. But if I were even to allow, that a Negroe slave is not a subject, (though I think I have clearly proved that he is) yet it is plain that such an one ought not to be denied the benefit of the King's court, unless the slaveholder shall be able to prove likewise that he is not, a Man; because every man may be free to sue for, and defend his right in our courts, says a stat. 20th Edw. III. c. 4. and elsewhere, according to law. And no man, of what estate or condition that he be, (here can be no exception whatsoever) shall be put out of land or tenement, nor taken, nor imprisoned, nor disinherited, nor put to death, without being brought in answer by due process of the law. 28th Edw. III, c. 3, No man therefore, of what estate or condition that he be, can lawfully be detained in England as a slave; because we have no law whereby a man may be condemned to slavery without his own consent, (for even convicted felons must \"in open court pray to transported.\") (See Habeas Corpus act, Sect. 14.) and therefore there cannot be any \"due process of the law\" tending to so base a purpose. It follows therefore, that every man, who presumes to detain any person whatsoever as a slave, otherwise than by virtue of a written contract, acts manifestly without \"due process of the law,\" and consequently is liable to the slave's \"action of false imprisonment,\" because \"every man may be free to sue,\" c. so that the slaveholder cannot avail himself of his imaginary property, either by the assistance of the common law, or of a court of equity, (except it appears that the said slave has voluntarily bound himself, without compulsion or illegal duress) for in both his suit will certainly appear both unjust and indefensible. The former cannot assist him, because the statute law at present is so far from supposing any man in a state of slavery, that it cannot even permit such a state, except in the two cases mentioned in the 13th and 14th Section of the Habeas Corpus act; and the courts of equity likewise must necessarily decide against him, because his mere mercenary plea of private property cannot equitably, in a case between man and man, stand in competition with that superior property which every man must necessarily be allowed to have in his own proper person. How then is the slaveholder to secure what he esteems his property? Perhaps he will endeavour clandestinely to seize the supposed slave, in order to transport him (with or without his consent) to the colonies, where such property is allowed: but let him take care what he does, the very attempt is punishable; and even the making over his property to another for that purpose, renders him equally liable to the severe penalties of the law, for a bill of sale may certainly be included under the terms expressed in the Habeas Corpus act, 12th Sect. viz. \"Any warrant or writing for such commitment, detainer, imprisonment, or transportation,\" c. It is also dangerous for a counsellor, or any other person to advise (see the act \"shall be advising\") such proceedings, by saying, \"That a master may legally compel him (the slave) to return again to the plantations.\" Likewise an attorney, notarypublic, or any other person, who shall presume to draw up, negotiate, of even to witness a bill of sale, or other instrument for such commitment, c. offends equally against the law, because \"All, or any person or persons, that shall frame, contrive, write, seal, or countersign any warrant or writing for such commitment, detainer, imprisonment, or transportation; or shall be advising, aiding, or assisting in the same, or any of them,\" are liable to all the penalties of the act. \"And the plaintiff, in every such action, shall have judgment to recover his treble costs, besides damages; which damages so to be given shall not be less than five hundred pounds;\" so that the injured may have ample satisfaction for their sufferings: and even a judge may not direct or instruct a jury contrary to this statute, whatever his private opinion may be concerning property in slaves; because no order or command, nor no injunction, is allowed to interfere with this golden act of liberty. I have before observed, that the general term, \"every alien,\" includes all strangers whatsoever, and renders them subject to the King, and the laws, during their residence in this kingdom; and this is certainly true, whether the aliens be Turks, Moors, Arabians, Tartars, or even savages, from any part of the world.Men are rendered obnoxious to the laws by their offences, and not by the particular denomination of their rank, order, parentage, colour, or country; and therefore, though we should suppose that any particular body of people whatsoever were not known, or had in consideration by the legislature at the different times when the severe penal laws were made, yet no man can reasonably conceive, that such men are exempted on this account from the penalties of the said laws, when legally convicted of having offended against them. Laws calculated for the moral purpose of preventing oppression, are likewise usually supposed to be everlasting, and to make up a part of our happy constitution; for which reason, though the kind of oppression to be guarded against, and the penalties for offenders, are minutely described therein, yet the persons to be protected are comprehended in terms as general as possible; that \"no person who now is, or hereafter shall be, an inhabitant or resiant in this kingdom,\" (see Habeas Corpus act, Sect. 12th) may seem to be excluded from protection. The general terms of the several statutes before cited, are so full and clear, that they admit of no exception whatsoever; for all persons (Negroes as well as others) must be included in the terms \"the subject;\"\"no subject of this realm that now is, or hereafter shall be, an inhabitant, c. any subject; every such person;\" see Habeas Corpus act. Also every man may be free to sue, c. 20th Edward III. cap. 4. and no man, of what estate or condition that he be, shall be taken or imprisoned, c. True justice makes no respect of persons, and can never deny, to any one that blessing to which all mankind have an undoubted right, their natural liberty: though the law makes no mention of Negroe slaves, yet this is no just argument for excluding them from the general protection of our happy constitution. Neither can the objection, that Negroe slaves were not \"had in consideration or contemplation,\" when these laws were made, prove any thing against them; but, on the contrary, much in their favour; for both these circumstances are strong presumptive proofs, that the practice of importing slaves into this kingdom, and retaining them as such, is an innovation entirely foreign to the spirit and intention of the laws now in force. Page 79. A toleration of slavery is, in effect, a toleration of inhumanity; for there are wretches in the world who make no scruple to gain, by wearing out their slaves with continual labour, and a scanty allowance, before they have lived out half their natural days. It is notorious, that this is too often the case in the unhappy countries where slavery is tolerated. See the account of the European settlements in America, Part VI. Chap. 11. concerning the \"misery of the Negroes, great waste of them,\" c. which informs us not only of a most scandalous profanation of the Lord's day, but also of another abomination, which must be infinitely more heinous in the sight of God, viz. oppression carried to such excess, as to be even destructive of the human species. At present, the inhumanity of constrained labour in excess, extends no farther in England than to our beasts, as post and hackneyhorses, sandasses, c. But thanks to our laws, and not to the general good disposition of masters, that it is so; for the wretch who is bad enough to maltreat a helpless beast, would not spare his fellow man if he had him as much in his power. The maintenance of civil liberty is therefore absolutely necessary to prevent an increase of our national guilt, by the addition of the horrid crime of tyranny.Notwithstanding that the plea of necessity cannot here be urged, yet this is no reason why an increase of the practice is not to be feared. Our North American colonies afford us a melancholy instance to the contrary; for though the climate in general is so wholesome and temperate, that it will not authorise this plea of necessity for the employment of slaves, any more than our own, yet the pernicious practice of slaveholding is become almost general in those parts. At NewYork, for instance, the infringement on civil or domestic liberty is become notorious, notwithstanding the political controversies of the inhabitants in praise of liberty; but no panegyric on this subject (howsoever elegant in itself) can be graceful or edifying from the mouth or pen of one of those provincials, because men who do not scruple to detain others in slavery, have but a very partial and unjust claim to the protection of the laws of liberty; and indeed it too plainly appears that they have no real regard for liberty, farther than their own private interests are concerned; and (consequently) that they have so little detestation of despotism and tyranny, that they do not scruple to exercise them whenever their caprice excites them, or their private interest seems to require an exertion of their power over their miserable slaves. Every petty planter, who avails himself of the service of slaves, is an arbitrary monarch, or rather a lawless Bashaw in his own territories, notwithstanding that the imaginary freedom of the province wherein he resides, may seem to forbid the observation. The boasted liberty of our American colonies, therefore, has so little right to that sacred name, that it seems to differ from the arbitrary power of despotic monarchs only in one circumstance, viz. that it is a manyheaded monster of tyranny, which entirely subverts our most excellent constitution; because liberty and slavery are so opposite to each other, that they cannot subsist in the same community. \"Political liberty (in mild or well regulated governments) makes civil liberty valuable; and whosoever is deprived of the latter, is deprived also of the former.\" This observation of the learned Montesquieu, I hope sufficiently justifies my censure of the Americans for their notorious violation of civil liberty;The NewYork Journal, or, The General Advertiser, for Thursday, 22d October, 1767, gives notice by advertisement, of no less than eight different persons who have escaped from slavery, or are put up to public sale for that horrid purpose. That I may demonstrate the indecency of such proceedings in a free country, I shall take the liberty of laying some of these advertisements before my readers, by way of example. \"To be SOLD for want of Employment, A likely strong active Negroe man, of about 24 years of age, this country born, (N.B. A natural born subject) understands most of a baker's trade, and a good deal of farming business, and can do all sorts of housework.Also a healthy Negroe wench, of about 21 years old, is a tolerable cook, and capable of doing all sorts of housework, can be well recommended for her honesty and sobriety: she has a female child of nigh three years old, which will be sold with the wench if required, c.\" Here is not the least consideration, or scruple of conscience, for the inhumanity of parting the mother and young child. From the stile, one would suppose the advertisement to be of no more importance than if it related merely to the sale of a cow and her calf; and that the cow should be sold with or without her calf, according as the purchaser should require.But not only Negroes, but even American Indians, are detained in the same abominable slavery in our colonies, though there cannot be any reasonable pretence whatsoever for holding one of these as private property; for even if a written contract should be produced as a voucher in such a case, there would still remain great suspicion, that some undue advantage had been taken of the Indian's ignorance concerning the nature of such a bond. \"Run away, on Monday the 21st instant, from Jn T, Esq. of WestChester county, in the province of NewYork, An Indian slave, named Abraham, he may have changed his name, about 23 years of age, about five feet five inches.\" Upon the whole, I think I may with justice conclude, that those advertisements discover a shameless prostitution and infringement on the common and natural rights of mankindBut hold! perhaps the Americans may be able, with too much justice, to retort this severe reflexion, and may refer us to newspapers published even in the free city of London, which contain advertisements not less dishonourable than their own. See advertisement in the Public Ledger of 31st December, 1761. \"For SALE, A healthy NEGROE GIRL, aged about fifteen years; speaks good English, works at her needle, washes well, does houshold work, and has had the smallpox. By J.W. c.\" Another advertisement, not long ago, offered a reward for stopping a female slave who had left her mistress in Hattongarden. And in the Gazetteer of 18th April, 1769, appeared a very extraordinary advertisement with the following title; \"Horses, Tim Wisky, and black Boy, To be sold at the Bull and Gate Inn. Holborn, A very good Tim Wisky, little the worse for wear, c.\" Afterwards, \"A Chesnut Gelding;\" then, \"A very good grey Mare;\" and last of all, (as if of the least consequence) \"A wellmade goodtempered black Boy, he has lately had the smallpox, and will be sold to any gentleman. Enquire as above.\" Another advertisement in the same paper, contains a very particular description of a Negroe man, called Jeremiah,and concludes as follows:\"Whoever delivers him to Capt. M Uy, on board the Elizabeth, at Prince's Stairs, Rotherhithe, on or before the 31st instant, shall receive thirty guineas reward, or ten guineas for such intelligence as shall enable the Captain, or his master, effectually to secure him. The utmost secrecy may be depended on.\" It is not on account of shame, that men, who are capable of undertaking the desperate and wicked employment of kidnappers, are supposed to be tempted to such a business, by a promise \"of the utmost secrecy;\" but this must be from a sense of the unlawfulness of the act proposed to them, that they may have less reason to fear a prosecution. And as such a kind of people are supposed to undertake any thing for money, the reward of thirty guineas was tendered at the top of the advertisement, in capital letters. No man can be safe, be he white or black, if temptations to break the laws are so shamefully published in our newspapers. A Creole Black boy is also offered to sale, in the Daily Advertiser of the same date. Besides these instances, the Americans may, perhaps, taunt us with the shameful treatment of a poor Negroe servant, who not long ago was put up to sale by public auction, together with the effects of his bankrupt master.Also, that the prisons of this free city have been frequently prostituted of late, by the tyrannical and dangerous practice of confining Negroes, under the pretence of slavery, though there have been no warrants whatsoever for their commitment. This circumstance of confining a man without a warrant, has so great a resemblance to the proceedings of a Popish inquisition, that it is but too obvious what dangerous practices such scandalous innovations, if permitted to grow more into use, are liable to introduce. No person can be safe, if wicked and designing men have it in their power, under the pretence of private property as a slave, to throw a man clandestinely, without a warrant, into goal, and to conceal him there, until they can conveniently dispose of him. A free man may be thus robbed of his liberty, and carried beyond the seas, without having the least opportunity of making his case known; which should teach us how jealous we ought to be of all imprisonments made without the authority, or previous examination, of a civil magistrate. The distinction of colour will, in a short time, be no protection against such outrages, especially as not only Negroes, but Mulatoes, and even American Indians, (which appears by one of the advertisements before quoted) are retained in slavery in our American colonies; for there are many honest weatherbeaten Englishmen, who have as little reason to boast of their complexion as the Indians. And indeed, the more northern Indians have no difference from us in complexion, but such as is occasioned by the climate, or different way of living. The plea of private property, therefore, cannot, by any means, justify a private commitment of any person whatsoever to prison, because of the apparent danger and tendency of such innovation. This dangerous practice of concealing in prison was attempted in the case of Jonathan Strong; for the doorkeeper of the Plty Cptr (or some person who acted for him) absolutely refused, for two days, to permit this poor injured Negro to be seen or spoke with, though a person went on purpose, both those days, to demand the same.All laws ought to be founded upon the principle of \"doing as one would be done by;\" and indeed this principle seems to be the very basis of the English constitution; for what precaution could possibly be more effectual for that purpose, than the right we enjoy of being judged by our Peers, creditable persons of the vicinage; especially, as we may likewise claim the right of excepting against any particular juryman, who might be suspected of partiality. This law breathes the pure spirit of liberty, equity, and social love; being calculated to maintain that consideration and mutual regard which one person ought to have for another, howsoever unequal in rank or station. But when any part of the community, under the pretence of private property, is deprived of this common privilege, it is a violation of civil liberty, which is entirely inconsistent with the social principles of a free state. True liberty protects the labourer as well as his Lord; preserves the dignity of human nature, and seldom fails to render a province rich and populous; whereas, on the other hand, a toleration of slavery is the highest breach of social virtue, and not only tends to depopulation, but too often renders the minds of both masters and slaves utterly depraved and inhuman, by the hateful extremes of exaltation and depression. If such a toleration should ever be generally admitted in England, (which God forbid) we shall no longer deserve to be esteemed a civilized people; because, when the customs of uncivilized nations, and the uncivilized customs which disgrace our own colonies, are become so familiar as to be permitted amongst us with impunity, we ourselves must insensibly degenerate to the same degree of baseness with those from whom such bad customs were derived; and may, too soon, have the mortification to see the hateful extremes of tyranny and slavery fostered under every roof. Then must the happy medium of a well regulated liberty be necessarily compelled to find shelter in some more civilized country: where social virtue, and that divine precept, \"Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,\" are better understood. An attempt to prove the dangerous tendency, injustice, and disgrace of tolerating slavery amongst Englishmen, would, in any former age, have been esteemed as superfluous and ridiculous, as if a man should undertake, in a formal manner, to prove, that darkness is not light. Sorry am I, that the depravity of the present age has made a demonstration of this kind necessary. Now, that I may sum up the amount of what has been said in a single sentence, I shall beg leave to conclude in the words of the great Sir Edward Coke, which, though spoken on a different occasion, are yet applicable to this; see Rushworth's Hist. Col. An. 1628. 4 Caroli. fol. 450. \"It would be no honour to a King or kingdom, to be a King of bondmen or slaves: the end of this would be both dedecusA and damnumB both to King and kingdom, that in former times have been so renowned.\" Footnote A: Disgrace. Footnote B: Loss.      Note, at page 63; According to the laws of Jamaica, printed in London, in 1756, \"If any slave having been one whole year in this island, (says an act, No 64, clause 5, p. 114) shall run away, and continue absent from his owner's service for the space of thirty days, upon complaint and proof, c. before any two justices of the peace, and three freeholders, c. it shall and may be lawful for such justices and freeholders to order such slave to be punished, by cutting off one of the feet of such slave, or inflict such other corporal punishment as they shall think fit.\" Now that I may inform my readers, what corporal punishments are sometimes thought fit to be inflicted, I will refer to the testimony of Sir Hans Sloane, (see voyage to the islands of Madeira, Barbadoes, c. and Jamaica, with the natural history of the last of these islands, c. London 1707. Introduction, p. 56, and 57.) \"The punishment for crimes of slaves (says he) are usually, for rebellions, burning them, by nailing them down to the ground with crooked sticks on every limb, and then applying the fire, by degrees, from the feet and hands, and burning them gradually up to the head, whereby the pains are extravagant; for crimes of a lesser nature, gelding, or chopping off half the foot with an axe. These punishments are suffered by them with great constancy.For negligence, they are usually whipped by the overseers with lancewood switches, till they be bloody, and several of the switches broken, being first tied up by their hands in the mill houses.After they are whipped till they are raw, some put on their skins pepper and salt, to make them smart; at other times, their masters will drop melted wax on their skins, and use several very exquisite torments.\" Sir Hans adds, \"These punishments are sometimes merited by the Blacks, who are a very perverse generation of people; and though they appear very harsh, yet are scarce equal to some of their crimes, and inferior to what punishments other European nations inflict on their slaves in the EastIndies, as may be seen by Moquet, and other travellers.\" Thus Sir Hans Sloane endeavours to excuse those shocking cruelties, but certainly in vain, because no crimes whatsoever can merit such severe punishments, unless I except the crimes of those who devise and inflict them. Sir Hans Sloane, indeed, mentions rebellion as the principal crime; and certainly it is very justly esteemed a most heinous crime, in a land of liberty, where government is limited by equitable and just laws, if the same are tolerably well observed; but in countries where arbitrary power is exercised with such intolerable cruelty as is before described, if resistance be a crime, it is certainly the most natural of all others. But the 19th clause of the 38th act, would indeed, on a slight perusal, induce us to conceive, that the punishment for rebellion is not so severe as it is represented by Sir Hans Sloane; because a slave, though deemed rebellious, is thereby condemned to no greater punishment than transportation. Nevertheless, if the clause be thoroughly considered, we shall find no reason to commend the mercy of the legislature; for it only proves, that the Jamaica lawmakers will not scruple to charge the slightest and most natural offences with the most opprobrious epithets; and that a poor slave, who perhaps has no otherwise incurred his master's displeasure than by endeavouring (upon the just and warrantable principles of selfpreservation,) to escape from his master's tyranny, without any criminal intention whatsoever, is liable to be deemed rebellious, and to be arraigned as a capital offender. \"For every slave and slaves that shall run away, and continue but for the space of twelve months, except such slave or slaves as shall not have been three years in this island, shall be deemed rebellious,\" c. (see act 38, clause 19. p. 60.) Thus we are enabled to define what a West Indian tyrant means by the word rebellious. But unjust as this clause may seem, yet it is abundantly more merciful and considerate than a subsequent act against the same poor miserable people, because the former assigns no other punishment for persons so deemed rebellious, than that they, \"Shall be transported by order of two justices and three freeholders,\" c. whereas the latter spares not the blood of these poor injured fugitives: For by the 66th act, a reward of 50 pounds is offered to those who \"shall kill or bring in alive any rebellious slaves,\" that is, any of these unfortunate people whom the law has \"deemed rebellious,\" as above; and this premium is not only tendered to commissioned parties (see 2d. clause) but even to any private \"hunter, slave, or other person,\" (see 3d. clause.) Thus it is manifest, that the law treats these poor unhappy men with as little ceremony and consideration as if they were merely wild beasts. But the innocent blood that is shed in consequence of such a detestable law, must certainly call for vengeance on the murderous abettors and actors of such deliberate wickedness: And though many of the guilty wretches should even be so hardened and abandoned as never afterwards to be capable of sincere remorse, yet a time will undoubtedly come, when they will shudder with dreadful apprehensions, on account of the insufficiency of so wretched an excuse, as that their poor murdered brethren were by law \"deemed rebellious\" But bad as these laws are, yet in justice to the freeholders of Jamaica, I must acknowledge, that their laws are not near so cruel and inhuman as the laws of Barbadoes and Virginia, and seem at present to be much more reasonable than they have formerly been; many very oppressive laws being now expired, and others less severe enacted in their room. But it is far otherwise in Barbadoes; for by the 329th act, p. 125. \"If any Negro or other slave, under punishment by his master, or his order, for running away, or any other crimes or misdemeanors towards his said master, unfortunately shall suffer in life, or member, (which seldom happens) (but it is plain by this law that it does sometimes happen) no person whatever shall be liable to any fine therefore; but if any man shall, of wantonness or only of bloodymindedness, or cruel intention, wilfully kill a Negroe or other slave of his own;\"now the reader, to be sure, will naturally expect, that some very severe punishment must in this case be ordained, to deter the wanton, bloodyminded, and cruel wretch, from wilfully killing his fellow creatures; but alas! the Barbadian lawmakers have been so far from intending to curb such abandoned wickedness, that they have absolutely made this law on purpose to skreen these enormous crimes from the just indignation of any righteous person, who might think himself bound in duty to prosecute a bloodyminded villain; they have therefore presumptuously taken upon them to give a sanction, as it were, by law, to the horrid crime of wilful murder; and have accordingly ordained, that he who is guilty of it in Barbadoes, though the act should be attended with all the aggravating circumstances beforementioned\"shall pay into the public treasury (no more than) fifteen pounds sterling,\" but if he shall kill another man's, he shall pay the owner of the Negroe double the value, and into the public treasury twentyfive pounds sterling; and he shall further, by the next justice of the peace, be bound to his good behaviour during the pleasure of the governor and council, and not be liable to any other punishment or forfeiture for the same. The most consummate wickedness, I suppose, that any body of people, under the specious form of a legislature, were ever guilty of! This act contains several other clauses which are shocking to humanity, though too tedious to mention here. According to an act of Virginia, (4 Anne, ch. 49. sec. 37. p. 227.) \"after proclamation is issued against slaves that run away and lie out, it is lawful for any person whatsoever, to kill and destroy such slaves, by such ways and means as he, she, or they, shall think fit, without accusation or impeachment of any crime for the same,\" c. And lest private interest should incline the planter to mercy, (to which we must suppose such people can have no other inducement) it is provided and enacted in the succeeding clause, (No 28.) \"That for every slave killed, in pursuance of this act, or put to death by law, the master or owner of such slave shall be paid by the public.\" Also by an act of Virginia, (9 Geo. I. ch. 4. sect. 18. p. 343.) it is ordained, \"That, where any slave shall hereafter be found notoriously guilty of going abroad in the night, or running away, and lying out, and cannot be reclaimed from such disorderly courses by the common method of punishment, it shall and may be lawful to and for the court of the county, upon complaint and proof thereof to them made by the owner of such slave, to order and direct every such slave to be punished by dismembering, or any other way, not touching life, as the said county court shall think fit.\" I have already given examples enough of the horrid cruelties which are sometimes thought fit on such occasions. But if the innocent and most natural act of \"running away\" from intolerable tyranny, deserves such relentless severity, what kind of punishment have these lawmakers themselves to expect hereafter, on account of their own enormous offences! Alas! to look for mercy (without a timely repentance) will only be another instance of their gross injustice! \"Having their consciences seared with a hot iron,\" they seem to have lost all apprehensions that their slaves are men, for they scruple not to number them with beasts. See an act of Barbadoes, (No 333. p. 128.) intituled, \"An act for the better regulating of outcries in open market:\" here we read of \"Negroes, cattle, coppers, and stills, and other chattels, brought by execution to open market to be outcried, and these (as if all of equal importance) are ranged together in great lots or numbers to be sold.\" Page 70. In the 329th act of Barbadoes, (p. 122.) it is asserted, that \"brutish slaves deserve not, for the baseness of their condition, to be tried by a legal trial of twelve men of their peers, or neighbourhood, which neither truly can be rightly done, as the subjects of England are;\" (yet slaves also are subjects of England, whilst they remain within the British dominions, notwithstanding this insinuation to the contrary) \"nor is execution to be delayed towards them, in case of such horrid crimes committed,\" c. A similar doctrine is taught in an act of Virginia, (9 Geo. I. ch. 4. sect. 3. p. 339.) wherein it is ordained, \"that every slave, committing such offence as by the laws ought to be punished by death, or loss of member, shall be forthwith committed to the common goal of the county, c. And the sheriff of such county, upon such commitment, shall forthwith certify the same, with the cause thereof, to the governor or commander in chief, c. who is thereupon desired and impowered to issue a commission of Oyer and Terminer, To such persons as he shall think fit; which persons, forthwith after the receipt of such commission, are impowered and required to cause the offender to be publicly arraigned and tried, c. without the solemnity of a jury,\" c. Now let us consider the dangerous tendency of those laws. As Englishmen, we strenuously contend for this absolute and immutable necessity of trials by juries: but is not the spirit and equity of this old English doctrine entirely lost, if we partially confine that justice to ourselves alone, when we have it in our power to extend it to others? The natural right of all mankind, must principally justify our insisting upon this necessary privilege in favour of ourselves in particular; and therefore if we do not allow that the judgment of an impartial jury is indispensably necessary in all cases whatsoever, wherein the life of man is depending, we certainly undermine the equitable force and reason of those laws, by which we ourselves are protected, and consequently are unworthy to be esteemed either Christians or Englishmen. Whatever right the members of a provincial assembly may have to enact bye laws, for particular exigences among themselves, yet in so doing they are certainly bound, in duty to their sovereign, to observe most strictly the fundamental principles of that constitution, which his Majesty is sworn to maintain; for wheresoever the bounds of the British empire are extended, there the common law of England must of course take place, and cannot be safely set aside by any private law whatsoever, because the introduction of an unnatural tyranny must necessarily endanger the King's dominions. The many alarming insurrections of slaves in the several colonies, are sufficient proofs of this. The common law of England ought therefore to be so established in every province, as to include the respective bye laws of each province; instead of being by them excluded, which latter has been too much the case. Every inhabitant of the British colonies, black as well as white, bond as well as free, are undoubtedly the King's subjects, during their residence within the limits of the King's dominions; and as such, are entitled to personal protection, however bound in service to their respective masters; therefore, when any of these are put to death, \"without the solemnity of a jury,\" I fear that there is too much reason to attribute the guilt of murder to every person concerned in ordering, the same, or in consenting thereto; and all such persons are certainly responsible to the King and his laws, for the loss of a subject. The horrid iniquity, injustice, and dangerous tendency of the several plantation laws which I have quoted, are so apparent, that it is unnecessary for me to apologize for the freedom with which I have treated them. If such laws are not absolutely necessary for the government of slaves, the lawmakers must unavoidably allow themselves to be the most cruel and abandoned tyrants upon earth; or, perhaps, that ever were on earth. On the other hand, if it be said, that it is impossible to govern slaves without such inhuman severity, and detestable injustice, the same will certainly be an invincible argument against the least toleration of slavery amongst christians, because the temporal profit of the planter or master, however lucrative, cannot compensate the forfeiture of his everlasting welfare, or (at least I may be allowed to say) the apparent danger of such a forfeiture. Oppression is a most grievous crime, and the cries of these much injured people, (though they are only poor ignorant heathens) will certainly reach heaven! The scriptures (which are the only true foundation of all laws) denounce a tremendous judgment against the man who should offend even one littleone; \"It were better for him (even the merciful Saviour of the world hath himself declared) that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and be cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.\" Luke xvii. 2. Who then shall attempt to vindicate those inhuman establishments of government, under which, even our own countrymen so grievously offend and oppress (not merely one, or a few little ones, but) an immense multitude of men, women, children, and the children of their children, from generation to generation? May it not be said with like justice, it were better for the English nation that these American dominions had never existed, or even that they should have been sunk into the sea, than that the kingdom of Great Britain should be loaded with the horrid guilt of tolerating such abominable wickedness! In short, if the King's prerogative is not speedily exerted for the relief of his Majesty's oppressed and much injured subjects in the British colonies, (because to relieve the subject from the oppression of petty tyrants is the principal use of the royal prerogative, as well as the principal and most natural means of maintaining the same) and for the extension of the British constitution to the most distant colonies, whether in the East or West Indies, it must inevitably be allowed, that great share of this enormous guilt will certainly rest on this side the water. I hope this hint will be taken notice of by those whom it may concern; and that the freedom of it will be excused, as from a loyal and disinterested adviser. Extracts from the writings of several noted authors, on the subject of the, slavery of the Negroes, viz. George Wallace, Francis Hutcheson, James Foster. George Wallace, in his System of the Principles of the Laws of Scotland, speaking of the slavery of the Negroes in our colonies, says, \"We all know that they (the Negroes) are purchased from their Princes, who pretend to have a right to dispose of them, and that they are, like other commodities, transported, by the merchants who have bought them, into America, in order to be exposed to sale. If this trade admits of a moral or a rational justification, every crime, even the most atrocious, may be justified. Government was instituted for the good of mankind; kings, princes, governors, are not proprietors of those who are subject to their authority; they have not a right to make them miserable. On the contrary, their authority is vested in them, that they may, by the just exercise of it, promote the happiness of their people. Of course, they have not a right to dispose of their liberty, and to sell them for slaves. Besides no man has a right to acquire, or to purchase them; men and their liberty are not in commercio; they are not either saleable or purchaseable. One, therefore, has no body but himself to blame, in case he shall find himself deprived of a man, whom he thought he had, by buying for a price, made his own; for he dealt in a trade which was illicit, and was prohibited by the most obvious dictates of humanity. For these reasons, every one of those unfortunate men who are pretended to be slaves, has a right to be declared to be free, for he never lost his liberty; he could not lose it; his Prince had no power to dispose of him. Of course, the sale was ipso jure void. This right he carries about with him, and is entitled every where to get it declared. As soon, therefore, as he comes into a country in which the judges are not forgetful of their own humanity, it is their duty to remember that he is a man, and to declare him to be free. I know it has been said, that questions concerning the state of persons ought to be determined by the law of the country to which they belong; and that, therefore, one who would be declared to be a slave in America, ought, in case he should happen to be imported into Britain, to be adjudged, according to the law of America, to be a slave; a doctrine than which nothing can be more barbarous. Ought the judges of any country, out of respect to the law of another, to shew no respect to their kind, and to humanity? out of respect to a law, which is in no sort obligatory upon them, ought they to disregard the law of nature, which is obligatory on all men, at all times, and in all places? Are any laws so binding as the eternal laws of justice? Is it doubtful, whether a judge ought to pay greater regard to them, than to those arbitrary and inhuman usages which prevail in a distant land? Aye, but our colonies would be ruined if slavery was abolished. Be it so; would it not from thence follow, that the bulk of mankind ought to be abused, that our pockets may be filled with money, or our mouths with delicacies? The purses of highwaymen would be empty, in case robberies were totally abolished; but have men a right to acquire money by going out to the highway? Have men a right to acquire it by rendering their fellowcreatures miserable? Is it lawful to abuse mankind, that the avarice, the vanity, or the passions of a few may be gratified? No! There is such a thing as justice to which the most sacred regard is due. It ought to be inviolably observed. Have not these unhappy men a better right to their liberty, and to their happiness, than our American merchants have to the profits which they make by torturing their kind? Let, therefore, our colonies be ruined, but let us not render so many men miserable. Would not any of us, who shouldbe snatched by pirates from his native land, think himself cruelly abused, and at all times entitled to be free? Have not these unfortunate Africans, who meet with the same cruel fate, the same right? Are they not men as well as we, and have they not the same sensibility? Let us not, therefore, defend or support a usage which is contrary to all the laws of humanity. \"But it is false, that either we or our colonies would be ruined by the abolition of slavery. It might occasion a stagnation of business for a short time. Every great alteration produces that effect; because mankind cannot, on a sudden, find ways of disposing of themselves, and of their affairs; but it would produce many happy effects. It is the slavery which is permitted in America, that has hindered it from becoming so soon populous as it would otherwise have done. Let the Negroes be free, and, in a few generations, this vast and fertile continent would be crowded with inhabitants; learning, arts, and every thing would flourish amongst them; instead of being inhabited by wild beasts, and by savages, it would be peopled by philosophers, and by men.\" Francis Hutcheson, professor of philosophy at the university of Glasgow, in his System of Moral Philosophy, page 211, says \"He who detains another by force in slavery, is always bound to prove his title. The slave sold, or carried into a distant country, must not be obliged to prove a negative, that he never forfeited his liberty. The violent possessor must, in all cases, shew his title, especially where the old proprietor is well known. In this case, each man is the original proprietor of his own liberty. The proof of his losing it must be incumbent on those who deprive him of it by force. The Jewish laws had great regard to justice, about the servitude of Hebrews, founding it only on consent, or some crime or damage, allowing them always a proper redress upon any cruel treatment, and fixing a limited time for it; unless upon trial the servant inclined to prolong it. The laws about foreign slaves had many merciful provisions against immoderate severity of the masters. But under christianity, whatever lenity was due from an Hebrew towards his countryman, must be due towards all; since the distinctions of nations are removed, as to the point of humanity and mercy, as well as natural right; nay, some of these rights granted over foreign slaves, may justly be deemed only such indulgences as those of poligamy and divorce, granting only external impunity in such practice, and not sufficient vindication of them in conscience.\" Page 85. It is pleaded, that \"In some barbarous nations, unless the captives were bought for slaves, they would be all murthered. They, therefore, owe their lives, and all they can do, to their purchasers; and so do their children, who would not otherwise have come into life.\" But this whole plea is no more than that of negotium utile gestum to which any civilized nation is bound by humanity; it is a prudent expensive office, done for the service of others without a gratuitous intention; and this founds no other right, than that to full compensation of all charges and labour employed for the benefit of others. A set of inaccurate popular phrases blind us in these matters; \"Captives owe their lives, and all to the purchasers, say they. Just in the same manner, we, our nobles, and princes, often owe our lives to midwives, chirurgeons, physicians,\" c. one who was the means of preserving a man's life, is not therefore entitled to make him a slave, and sell him as a piece of goods. Strange, that in a nation where the sense of liberty prevails, where the christian religion is professed, custom and high prospects of gain can so stupify the conscience of men, and all sense of natural justice, that they can hear such computations made about the value of their fellowmen, and their liberty, without abhorrence and indignation. James Foster, D.D. in his discourses on natural religion and social virtue also shews his just indignation at this wicked practice; which he declares to be \"a criminal and outrageous violation of the natural right of mankind.\" At page 156, vol. 2 he says, \"Should we have read concerning the Greeks or Romans of old, that they traded with a view to make slaves of their own species, when they certainly knew that this would involve in schemes of blood and murder, of destroying, or enslaving each other; that they even fomented wars, and engaged whole nations and tribes in open hostilities, for their own private advantage; that they had no detestation of the violence and cruelty, but only feared the ill success of their inhuman enterprises; that they carried men like themselves, their brethren, and the offspring of the same common parent, to be sold like beasts of prey, or beasts of burden, and put them to the same reproachful trial, of their soundness, strength, and capacity for greater bodily service; that quite forgetting and renouncing the original dignity of human nature, communicated to all, they treated them with more severity, and ruder discipline, than even the ox or the ass, who are void of understandingshould we not, if this had been the case, have naturally been led to despise all their pretended refinements of morality; and to have concluded, that as they were not nations destitute of politeness, they must have been entire strangers to virtue and benevolence? \"But notwithstanding this, we ourselves (who profess to be christians, and boast of the peculiar advantage we enjoy, by means of an express revelation of our duty from heaven) are, in effect, these very untaught and rude heathen countries. With all our superior light, we instill into those, whom we call savage and barbarous, the most despicable opinion of human nature. We, to the utmost of our power, weaken and dissolve the universal tie, that binds and unites mankind. We practise what we should exclaim against, as the utmost excess of cruelty and tyranny, if nations of the world, differing in colour, and form of government, from ourselves, were so possessed of empire, as to be able to reduce us to a state of unmerited and brutish servitude. Of consequence, we sacrifice our reason, our humanity, our christianity, to an unnatural sordid gain. We teach other nations to despise, and trample under foot, all the obligations of social virtue. We take the most effectual method to prevent the propagation of the gospel, by representing it as a scheme of power and barbarous oppression, and an enemy to the natural privileges and rights of men. \"Perhaps all that I have now offered, may be of very little weight to restrain this enormity, this aggravated iniquity; however, I still have the satisfaction of having entered my private protest against a practice, which, in my opinion, bids that God, who is the God and Father of the Gentiles, unconverted to christianity, most daring and bold defiance, and spurns at all the principles both of natural and revealed religion.\" EXTRACT From an ADDRESS in the VIRGINIA GAZETTE, of MARCH 19, 1767. Mr. RIND, Permit me, in your paper, to address the members of our assembly on two points, in which the public interest is very nearly concerned. The abolition of slavery, and the retrieval of specie in this colony, are the subjects on which I would bespeak their attention. Long and serious reflections upon the nature and consequences of slavery have convinced me, that it is a violation both of justice and religion; that it is dangerous to the safety of the community in which it prevails; that it is destructive to the growth of arts and sciences; and lastly, that it produces a numerous and very fatal train of vices, both in the slave and in his master. To prove these assertions, shall be the purpose of the following essay. That slavery then is a violation of justice, will plainly appear, when we consider what justice is. It is truly and simply defined, as by Justinian, constans et perpetua voluntas ejus suum cuique tribuendi; a constant endeavour to give every man his right. Now, as freedom is unquestionably the birthright of all mankind, Africans as well as Europeans, to keep the former in a state of slavery, is a constant violation of that right, and therefore of justice. The ground on which the civilians who favour slavery, admit it to be just, namely, consent, force, and birth, is totally disputable; for surely a man's own will and consent cannot be allowed to introduce so important an innovation into society, as slavery, or to make himself an outlaw, which is really the state of a slave; since neither consenting to, nor aiding the laws of the society in which he lives, he is neither bound to obey them, nor entitled to their protection. To found any right in force, is to frustrate all right, and involve every thing in confusion, violence, and rapine. With these two, the last must fall; since, if the parent cannot justly be made a slave, neither can the child be born in slavery. \"The law of nations, says Baron Montesquieu, has doomed prisoners to slavery, to prevent their being slain; the Roman civil law permitted debtors, whom their creditors might treat ill, to sell themselves. And the law of nature requires that children, whom their parents, being slaves, cannot maintain, should be slaves like them. These reasons of the civilians are not just; it is not true that a captive may be slain, unless in a case of absolute necessity; but if he hath been reduced to slavery, it is plain that no such necessity existed, since he was not slain. It is not true that a free man can sell himself, for sale supposes a price; but a slave and his property becomes immediately that of his master; the slave can therefore receive no price, nor the master pay, c. And if a man cannot sell himself, nor a prisoner of war be reduced to slavery, much less can his child.\" Such are the sentiments of this illustrious civilian; his reasonings, which I have been obliged to contract, the reader interested in this subject will do well to consult at large. Yet even these rights of imposing slavery, questionable, nay, refutable as they are, we have not to authorise the bondage of the Africans. For neither do they consent to be our slaves, nor do we purchase them of their conquerors. The British merchants obtain them from Africa by violence, artifice, and treachery, with a few trinkets to prompt those unfortunate people to enslave one another by force or stratagem. Purchase them indeed they may, under the authority of an act of the British parliament. An act entailing upon the Africans, with whom we are not at war, and over whom a British parliament could not of right assume even a shadow of authority, the dreadful curse of perpetual slavery, upon them and their children for ever. There cannot be in nature, there is not in all history, an instance in which every right of men is more flagrantly violated. The laws of the antients never authorised the making slaves, but of those nations whom they had conquered; yet they were heathens, and we are christians. They were misled by a monstrous religion, divested of humanity, by a horrible and barbarous worship; we are directed by the unerring precepts of the revealed religion we possess, enlightened by its wisdom, and humanized by its benevolence; before them, were gods deformed with passions, and horrible for every cruelty and vice; before us, is that incomparable pattern of meekness, charity, love and justice to mankind, which so transcendently distinguished the Founder of christianity, and his ever amiable doctrines. Reader, remember that the corner stone of your religion, is to do unto others as you would they should do unto you; ask then your own heart, whether it would not abhor any one, as the most outrageous violater of that and every other principle of right, justice, and humanity, who should make a slave of you and your posterity for ever! Remember, that God knoweth the heart; lay not this flattering unction to your soul, that it is the custom of the country; that you found it so, that not your will; but your necessity, consents. Ah! think how little such an excuse will avail you in that aweful day, when your Saviour shall pronounce judgment on you for breaking a law too plain to be misunderstood, too sacred to be violated. If we say we are christians, yet act more inhumanly and unjustly than heathens, with what dreadful justice must this sentence of our blessed Saviour fall upon us, \"Not every one that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doth the will of my Father which is in heaven.\" Matth. vii. 21. Think a moment how much your temporal, your eternal welfare depends upon an abolition of a practice which deforms the image of your God, tramples on his revealed will, infringes the most sacred rights, and violates humanity. Enough, I hope, has been asserted, to prove that slavery is a violation of justice and religion. That it is dangerous to the safety of the state in which it prevails, may be as safely asserted. What one's own experience has not taught; that of others must decide. From hence does history derive its utility; for being, when truly written, a faithful record of the transactions of mankind, and the consequences that flowed from them, we are thence furnished with the means of judging what will be the probable effect of transactions, similar among ourselves. We learn then from history, that slavery, wherever encouraged, has sooner or later been productive of very dangerous commotions. I will not trouble my reader here with quotations in support of this assertion, but content myself with referring those, who may be dubious of its truth, to the histories of Athens, Lacedemon, Rome, and Spain. How long, how bloody and destructive was the contest between the Moorish slaves and the native Spaniards? and after almost deluges of blood had been shed, the Spaniards obtained nothing more than driving them into the mountains.Less bloody indeed, though, not less alarming, have been the insurrections in Jamaica; and to imagine that we shall be for ever exempted from this calamity, which experience teaches us to be inseparable from slavery, so encouraged; is an infatuation as astonishing as it will be surely fatal:c. c. EXTRACT OF A SERMON PREACHED BY THE BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER, Before the SOCIETY For the PROPAGATION of the GOSPEL, at the anniversary meeting on the 21st of February, 1766. From the freesavages, I now come (the last point I propose to consider) to the savages in bonds. By these I mean the vast multitudes yearly stolen from the opposite continent, and sacrificed by the colonists to their great idol, the GOD OF GAIN. But what then? say these sincere worshippers of Mammon; they are our own property which we offer up. Gracious God! to talk (as in herds of cattle) of property in rational creatures! creatures endowed with all our faculties; possessing all our qualities but that of colour; our brethren both by nature and grace, shocks all the feelings of humanity, and the dictates of common sense. But, alas! what is there in the infinite abuses of society which does not shock them? Yet nothing is more certain in itself, and apparent to all, than that the infamous traffic for slaves directly infringes both divine and human law. Nature created man free, and grace invites him to assert his freedom. In excuse of this violation, it hath been pretended, that though indeed these miserable outcasts of humanity be torn from their homes and native country by fraud and violence, yet they thereby become the happier, and their condition the more eligible. But who are You, who pretend to judge of another man's happiness? That state, which each man, under the guidance of his Maker, forms for himself, and not one man for another? To know what constitutes mine or your happiness, is the sole prerogative of Him who created us, and cast us in so various and different moulds. Did your slaves ever complain to you of their unhappiness amidst their native woods and deserts? Or, rather, let me ask, did they ever cease complaining of their condition under you their lordly masters? where they see, indeed, the accommodations of civil life, but see them all pass to others, themselves unbenefited by them. Be so gracious then, ye petty tyrants over human freedom, to let your slaves judge for themselves, what it is which makes their own happiness. And then see whether they do not place it in the return to their own country, rather than in the contemplation of your grandeur, of which their misery makes so large a part. A return so passionately longed for, that despairing of happiness here, that is, of escaping the chains of their cruel taskmasters, they console themselves with feigning it to be the gracious reward of heaven in their future state, which I do not find their haughty masters have as yet concerned themselves to invade. The less hardy, indeed, wait for this felicity till overwearied nature sets them free; but the more resolved have recourse even to selfviolence, to force a speedier passage. But it will be still urged, that though what is called human happiness be of so fantastic a nature, that each man's imagination creates it for himself, yet human misery is more substantial and uniform throughout all the tribes of mankind. Now, from the worst of human miseries, the savage Africans, by these forced emigrations, are intirely secured; such as the being perpetually hunted down like beasts of prey or profit, by their more savage and powerful neighboursIn truth, a blessed change!from being hunted to being caught. But who are they that have set on foot this general HUNTING? Are they not these very civilized violaters of humanity themselves? who tempt the weak appetites, and provoke the wild passions of the fiercer savages to prey upon the rest. THE END. INDEX. A Adanson (M.) his account of the country on the rivers Senegal and Gambia, 14. Extraordinary fertility, ibid. Surprising vegetation, 15. Beautiful aspect of the country, 16. Good disposition of the natives, ibid. Advertisements in the NewYork Journal, for the sale of slaves, 158. Also in the newspapers of London, 160. Africa, that part from whence the Negroe slaves are brought, how divided, 6. Capable of a considerable trade, 143. Alien (every) or stranger coming within the King's dominion, becomes a subject, 148. Antientest account of the Negroes, 41. Were then a simple innocent people, 43. Angola, a plentiful country, 39. Character of the natives, 40. Government, ibid. B Barbadoes (laws of) respecting Negroe slaves, 170. Barbot (John) agent general of the French African Company, his account of the Gold Coast, 25. Of the Slave Coast, 27. Bosman (William) principal factor for the Dutch at D'Elmina, his account of the Gold Coast, 23. Of the Slave Coast, 27. Brue (Andrew) principal factor of the French African Company, his account of the country on the river Senegal, 7. And on the river Gambia, 8. Benin (kingdom of) good character of the natives, 35. Punishment of crimes, 36. Order of government, ibid. Largeness and order of the city of Great Benin, 37. Britons (antient) in their original state no less barbarous than the African Negroes, 68. Baxter (Richard) his testimony against slavery, 83. C Corruption of some of the Kings of Guinea, 107. D De la Casa (bishop of Chapia) his concern for the Indians, 47. His speech to Charles the Fifth Emperor of Germany and King of Spain, 48. Prodigious destruction of the Indians in Hispaniola, 51. Divine principle in every man, its effects on those who obey its dictates, 14. E Elizabeth (Queen) her caution to captain Hawkins not to enslave any of the Negroes, 55. English, their first trade on the coast of Guinea, 52. Europeans are the principal cause of the wars which subsist amongst the Negroes, 61. English laws allow no man, of what condition soever, to be deprived of his liberty, without a legal process, 150. The danger of confining any person without a warrant, 162. F Fishing, a considerable business on the Guinea coast, 26. How carried on, ibid. Foster (James) his testimony against slavery, 186. Fuli Negroes good farmers, 10. Those on the Gambia particularly recommended for their industry and good behaviour, ibid. France (King of) objects to the Negroes in his dominions being reduced to a state of slavery, 58. G Gambia (river)8, 14. Gloucester (bishop of) extract of his sermon, 195. Godwyn (Morgan) his plea in favour of the Negroes and Indians, 75. Complains of the cruelties exercised upon slaves, 76. A false opinion prevailed in his time, that the Negroes were not objects of redeeming grace, 77. Gold Coast has several European factories, 22. Great trade for slaves, ibid. Carried on far in the inland country, ibid. Natives more reconciled to the Europeans, and more diligent in procuring slaves, ibid. Extraordinarily fruitful and agreeable, 22, 25. The natives industrious, 24. Great Britain, all persons during their residence there are the King's subjects, 148. Guinea extraordinarily fertile, 2. Extremely unhealthy to the Europeans, 4. But agrees well with the natives, ibid. Prodigious rising of waters, ibid. Hot winds, ibid. Surprising vegetation, 15. H Hawkins (captain) lands on the coast of Guinea and seizes on a number of the natives, which he sells to the Spaniards, 55. Hottentots misrepresented by authors, 101. True account given of these people by Kolben, 102. Love of liberty and sloth their prevailing passions, 102. Distinguished by several virtues, 103. Firm in alliances, ibid. Offended at the vices predominant amongst christians, 104. Make nor keep no slaves, ibid. Hughes (Griffith) his account of the number of Negroes in Barbadoes, 85. Speaks well of their natural capacities, 86. Husbandry of the Negroes carried on in common, 28. Hutcheson (Francis) his declaration against slavery, 184. I Jalof Negroes, their government, 9. Indians grievously oppressed by the Spaniards, 47. Their cause pleaded by Bartholomew De la Casa, 48. Inland people, good account of them, 25. Ivory Coast fertile, c. 18. Natives falsely represented to be a treacherous people, ibid. Kind when well used, 19. Have no European factories amongst them, 21. And but few wars; therefore few slaves to be had there, 22. J Jury, Negroes tried and condemned without the solemnity of a jury, 174. Highly repugnant to the English constitution, 176. Dangerous to those concerned therein, ibid. L Laws in Guinea severe against manstealing, and other crimes, 106. M Mandingoe Negroes a numerous nation, 11. Great traders, ibid. Laborious, 11. Their government, 13. Their worship, ibid. Manner of tillage, ibid. At Galem they suffer none to be made slaves but criminals, 20. Maloyans (a black people) sometimes sold amongst Negroes brought from very distant parts, 27. Markets regularly kept on the Gold and Slave Coasts, 30. Montesquieu's sentiments on slavery, 72. Moor (Francis) factor to the African company, his account of the slavetrade on the river Gambia, 111. Mosaic law merciful in its chastisements, 73. Has respect to human nature, ibid. N National wars disapproved by the most considerate amongst the Negroes, 110. Negroes (in Guinea) generally a humane, sociable people, 2. Simplicity of their way of living, 5. Agreeable in conversation, 16. Sensible of the damage accruing to them from the slavetrade, 61. Misrepresented by most authors, 98. Offended at the brutality of the European factors, 116. Shocking cruelties exercised on them by masters of vessels, 124. How many are yearly brought from Guinea by the English, 129. The numbers who die on the passage and in the seasoning, 120. Negroe slaves (in the colonies) allowed to cohabit and separate at pleasure, 36. Great waste of them thro' hard usage in the islands, 86. Melancholy case of two of them, 136. Proposals for setting them free, 129. Tried and condemned without the solemnity of a jury, 174. Negroes (free) discouragement they met with, 133. P Portugueze carry on a great trade for slaves at Angola, 40. Make the first incursions into Guinea, 44. From whence they carry off some of the natives, ibid. Beginners of the slavetrade, 46. Erect the first fort at D'Elmina, ibid. R Rome (the college of cardinals at) complain of the abuse offered to the Negroes in selling them for slaves, 58. S Senegal (river) account of, 7, 14. Ship (account of one) blown up on the coast of Guinea with a number of Negroes on board, 125. Slavetrade, how carried on at the river Gambia, 111. And in other parts of Guinea, 113. At Whidah, 115. Slaves used with much more lenity in Algiers and in Turkey than in our colonies, 70. Likewise in Guinea, 71. Slavery more tolerable amongst the antient Pagans than in our colonies, 63. Declined, as christianity prevailed, 65. Early laws in France for its abolishment, 66. If put an end to, would make way for a very extensive trade through Africa, 143. The danger of slavery taking place in England, 164. Sloane (Sir Hans) his account of the inhuman and extravagant punishments inflicted on Negroes, 89. Smith (William) surveyor to the African company, his account of the Ivory Coast, 20. Of the Gold Coast, 24. V VIRGINIA (laws), respecting Negro slaves, 172. Virginia (address to the assembly) setting forth the iniquity and danger of slavery, 189. W WALLACE (George) his testimony against slavery, 180. West Indies, white people able to perform the necessary work there, 141. Whidah (kingdom of) agreeable and fruitful, 27. Natives treat one another with respect, 29. Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 20765h.htm or 20765h.zip: (https:www.gutenberg.orgdirs20762076520765h20765h.htm) or (https:www.gutenberg.orgdirs20762076520765h.zip) Transcriber's Note: Spelling, punctuation and capitalization are as in the original. This includes the writer's various spellings of her own name. Ordinals such as \"1st\", \"2d\", \"4th\" were consistently written in superscript. They are shown here as unmarked text. Other superscript abbreviations are shown with caret as Mrs, Hond. The printed book included a facsimile image of a typical diary page. A transcription of this passage appears immediately before the diary proper. DIARY OF ANNA GREEN WINSLOW A Boston School Girl of 1771 Edited by ALICE MORSE EARLE Illustration: ANNA GREEN WINSLOW Publisher's Device: Tout bien ou rien Boston and New York Houghton, Mifflin and Company The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1895 Copyright, 1894, By Alice Morse Earle. All rights reserved. Third Edition. The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton  Co. This Book Is Dedicated To The Kinsfolk Of ANNA GREEN WINSLOW FOREWORD. In the year 1770, a bright little girl ten years of age, Anna Green Winslow, was sent from her far away home in Nova Scotia to Boston, the birthplace of her parents, to be \"finished\" at Boston schools by Boston teachers. She wrote, with evident eagerness and loving care, for the edification of her parents and her own practice in penmanship, this interesting and quaint diary, which forms a most sprightly record, not only of the life of a young girl at that time, but of the prim and narrow round of daily occurrences in provincial Boston. It thus assumes a positive value as an historical picture of the domestic life of that day; a value of which the little girl who wrote it, or her kinsfolk who affectionately preserved it to our own day, never could have dreamed. To many New England families it is specially interesting as a complete rendering, a perfect presentment, of the childish life of their great grandmothers, her companions. It is an even chance which ruling thought in the clever little writer, a love of religion or a love of dress, shows most plainly its influence on this diary. On the whole, I think that youthful vanity, albeit of a very natural and innocent sort, is more pervasive of the pages. And it is fortunate that this is the case; for, from the frankly frivolous though far from selfconscious entries we gain a very exact notion, a very valuable picture, of the dress of a young girl at that day. We know all the details of her toilet, from the \"pompedore\" shoes and the shifts (which she had never worn till she lived in Boston), to the absurd and topheavy headdecoration of \"black feathers, my past comb  all my past garnet marquasett and jet pins, together with my silver plume.\" If this fantastic assemblage of ornament were set upon the \"Heddus roll,\" so graphically described, it is easy to understand the denunciations of the time upon women's headgear. In no contemporary record or account, no matter who the writer, can be found such a vivacious and witty description of the modish hairdressing of that day as in the pages of this diary. But there are many entries in the journal of this vain little Puritan devotee to show an almost equal attention to religion; records of sermons which she had heard, and of religious conversations in which she had taken a selfpossessed part; and her frequent use of Biblical expressions and comparisons shows that she also remembered fully what she read. Her ambitious theological sermonnotes were evidently somewhat curtailed by the sensible advice of the aunt with whom she resided, who thereby checked also the consequent injudicious praise of her pastor, the Old South minister. For Anna and her kinsfolk were of the congregation of the Old South church; and this diary is in effect a record of the life of Old South church attendants. Many were what Anna terms \"sisters of the Old South,\" and nine tenths of the names of her companions and friends may be found on the baptismal and membership records of that church. Anna was an industrious little wight, active in all housewifely labors and domestic accomplishments, and attentive to her lessons. She could make \"pyes,\" and fine network; she could knit lace, and spin linen thread and woolen yarn; she could make purses, and embroider pocketbooks, and weave watch strings, and piece patchwork. She learned \"dansing, or danceing I should say,\" from one Master Turner; she attended a sewing school, to become a neat and deft little sempstress, and above all, she attended a writing school to learn that most indispensable and most appreciated of eighteenth century accomplishmentsfine writing. Her handwriting, of which a facsimile is here shown, was far better than that of most girls of twelve today; with truth and justice could Anna say, \"Aunt says I can write pretily.\" Her orthography was quite equal to that of grown persons of her time, and her English as good as that of Mercy Warren, her older contemporary writer. And let me speak also of the condition of her diary. It covers seventytwo pages of paper about eight inches long by six and a half inches wide. The writing is uniform in size, every letter is perfectly formed; it is as legible as print, and in the entire diary but three blots can be seen, and these are very small. A few pages were ruled by the writer, the others are unruled. The old paper, though heavy and good, is yellow with age, and the water marks C.F.R. and the crown stand out distinctly. The sheets are sewed in a little book, on which a marbled paper cover has been placed, probably by a later hand than Anna's. Altogether it is a remarkably creditable production for a girl of twelve. It is well also to compare her constant diligence and industry displayed to us through her records of a day's workand at another time, of a week's workwith that of any girl of her age in a corresponding station of life nowadays. We learn that physical pain or disability were no excuse for slothfulness; Anna was not always wellhad heavy colds, and was feverish; but well or ill was always employed. Even with painful local afflictions such as a \"whitloe,\" she still was industrious, \"improving it to perfect myself in learning to spin flax.\" She read muchthe Bible constantlyand also found amusement in reading \"a variety of composures.\" She was a friendly little soul, eager to be loved; resenting deeply that her Aunt Storer let \"either one of her chaises, her chariot or babyhutt,\" pass the door every day, without sending for her; going cheerfully teadrinking from house to house of her friends; delighting even in the catechising and the sober Thursday Lecture. She had few amusements and holidays compared with the manifold pleasures that children have nowadays, though she had one holiday which the Revolution struck from our calendarthe King's Coronation Day. She saw the Artillery Company drill, and she visited brides and babies and old folks, and attended some funerals. When she was twelve years old she \"came out\"became a \"miss in her teens\"and went to a succession of prim little routs or parties, which she called \"constitutions.\" To these decorous assemblies girls only were invited,no rough Boston boys. She has left to us more than one clear, perfect picture of these formal little routs in the great lowraftered chamber, softly alight with candles on manteltree and in sconces; with Lucinda, the black maid, \"shrilly piping;\" and rows of demure little girls of Boston Brahmin blood, in high rolls and feathers, discreetly partaking of hot and cold punch, and soberly walking and curtsying through the minuet; fantastic in costume, but proper and seemly in demeanor, models of correct deportment as were their elegant mammas. But Anna was not solemn; she was always happy, and often merryfull of life and wit. She jested about getting a \"fresh seasoning with Globe salt,\" and wrote some labored jokes and some unconscious ones home to her mother. She was subject to \"egregious fits of laughterre,\" and fully proved the statement, \"Aunt says I am a whimsical child.\" She was not beautiful. Her miniature is now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott of Niagara Falls, the great granddaughter of General John Winslow, and a copy is shown in the frontispiece. It displays a gentle, winning little face, delicate in outline, as is also the figure, and showing some hint also of delicacy of constitution. It may be imagination to think that it is plainly the face of one who could never live to be olda face typical of youth. Let us glance at the stock from whence sprung this tender and engaging little blossom. When the weary Pilgrims landed at Cape Cod before they made their memorable landing at Plymouth, a sprightly young girl jumped on shore, and was the first English woman to set foot on the soil of New England. Her name was Mary Chilton. She married John Winslow, the brother of Governor Edward Winslow. Anna Green Winslow was Mary Chilton's direct descendant in the sixth generation. Anna's grandfather, John Winslow the fourth, was born in Boston. His son Joshua wrote thus in the Winslow Family Bible: \"Jno Winslow my Honor'd Father was born ye 31 Dec. at 6 o'c. in the morning on the Lords Day, 1693, and was baptized by Mr. Willard the next day  dyed att sea Octo. 13, 1731 aged 38 years.\" A curious attitude was assumed by certain Puritan ministers, of reluctance and even decided objection and refusal to baptize children who were unlucky enough to be born on the Lord's Day; but Samuel Willard, the pastor of the \"South Church\" evidently did not concur in that extraordinary notion, for on the day following \"Jno's\" birthon New Year's Dayhe was baptized. He was married on September 21, 1721, to Sarah Pierce, and in their ten years of married life they had three children. Joshua Winslow, Anna's father, was the second child. He was born January 23, 1727, and was baptized at the Old South. He was \"published\" with his cousin Anna Green on December 7, 1758, and married to her four weeks later, January 3, 1759. An old piece of embroidered tapestry herein shown gives a good portrayal of a Boston weddingparty at that date; the costumes, coach, and cut of the horses' mane and tail are very curious and interesting to note. Mrs. Winslow's mother was Anna Pierce (sister of Sarah), and her father was Joseph Green, the fourth generation from Percival Green, whose descendants have been enumerated by Dr. Samuel Abbott Green, the president of the Massachusetts Historical Society, in his book entitled \"Account of Percival and Ellen Green and some of their descendants.\" Mrs. Joshua Winslow was the oldest of twelve Green children, hence the vast array of uncles and aunts and cousins in little Anna's diary. Joseph Green, Anna's maternal grandfather, was born December 12, 1703, and was baptised on the same day. He died July 11, 1765. He was a wealthy man for his time, being able to pay Governor Belcher 3,600 for a tract of land on Hanover Street. His firm name was Green  Walker. A fine portrait of him by Copley still exists. Thus Anna came of good stock in all lines of descent. The Pierces were of the New Hampshire provincial gentry, to which the Wentworths and Langdons also belonged. Before Joshua Winslow was married, when he was but eighteen years of age, he began his soldierly career. He was a Lieutenant in Captain Light's company in the regiment of Colonel Moore at the taking of Louisburg in 1745. He was then appointed CommissaryGeneral of the British forces in Nova Scotia, and an accountbook of his daily movements there still exists. Upon his return to New England he went to live at Marshfield, Massachusetts, in the house afterwards occupied by Daniel Webster. But troublous times were now approaching for the faithful servants of the King. Strange notions of liberty filled the heads of many Massachusetts men and women; and soon the Revolution became more than a dream. Joshua Winslow in that crisis, with many of his Marshfield friends and neighbors, sided with his King. He was in Marshfield certainly in June, 1775, for I have a letter before me written to him there by Mrs. Deming at that date. One clause of this letter is so amusing that I cannot resist quoting it. We must remember that it was written in Connecticut, whence Mrs. Deming had fled in fright and dismay at the siege of Boston; and that she had lost her home and all her possessions. She writes in answer to her brother's urgent invitation to return to Marshfield. \"We have no household stuff. Neither could I live in the terror of constant alarms and the din of war. Besides I know not how to look you in the face, unless I could restore to you your family Expositer, which together with my Henry on the Bible  Harveys Meditations which are your daughter's (the gift of her grandmother) I pack'd in a Trunk that exactly held them, some days before I made my escape, and did my utmost to git to you, but which I am told are still in Boston. It is not, nor ever will be in my power to make you Satisfaction for this ErrorI should not have coveted to keep 'em so longI am heartily sorry now that I had more than one book at a time; in that case I might have thot to have bro't it away with me, tho' I forgot my own Bible  almost every other necessary. But who can tell whether you may not git your Valuable Books. I should feel comparatively easy if you had these your Valuable property.\" Her painful solicitude over the loss of a borrowed book is indeed refreshing, as well as her surprising covetousness of the Family Expositor and Harvey's Meditations. And I wish to add to the posthumous rehabilitation of the damaged credit of this conscientious aunt, that Anna's bookHarvey's Meditationswas recovered and restored to the owner, and was lost at sea in 1840 by another Winslow. Joshua Winslow, when exiled, went to England, and thence to Quebec, where he retained throughout his life his office as Royal Paymaster. He was separated many years from his wife and daughter, and doubtless Anna died while her father was far from her; for in a letter dated Quebec, December 26, 1783, and written to his wife, he says, \"The Visiting Season is come on, a great practice here about Christmas and the New Year; on the return of which I congratulate my Dearest Anna and Friends with you, it being the fifth and I hope the last I shall be obliged to see the return of in a Separation from each other while we may continue upon the same Globe.\" She shortly after joined him in Quebec. His letters show careful preparations for her comfort on the voyage. They then were childless; Anna's brothers, George Scott and John Henry, died in early youth. It is interesting to note that Joshua Winslow was the first of the Winslows to give his children more than one baptismal name. Joshua Winslow was a man of much dignity and of handsome person, if we can trust the Copley portrait and miniature of him which still exist. The portrait is owned by Mr. James F. Trott of Niagara Falls, New York, the miniature by Mrs. J. F. Lindsey of Yorkville, South Carolina, both grandchildren of General John Winslow. His letters display much intelligence. His spelling is unusually correct; his penmanship elegantas was that of all the Winslows; his forms of expression scholarly and careful. He sometimes could joke a little, as when he began his letters to his wife Anna thus2. N. A.though it is possible that the \"Obstructions to a free Correspondence, and the Circumspection we are obliged to practice in our Converse with each other\" arising from his exiled condition, may have made him thus use a rebus in the address of his letter. He died in Quebec in 1801. His wife returned to New England and died in Medford in 1810. Her funeral was at General John Winslow's house on Purchase Street, Fort Hill, Boston; she was buried in the Winslow tomb in King's Chapel burial ground. We know little of the last years of Anna Green Winslow's life. A journal written by her mother in 1773 during their life in Marshfield is now owned by Miss Sarah Thomas of Marshfield, Mass. It is filled chiefly with pious sermon notes and religious thoughts, and sad and anxious reflections over absent loved ones, one of whom (in the sentimental fashion of the times) she calls \"my Myron\"her husband. Through this journal we see \"Nanny Green's\" simple and monotonous daily life; her little teadrinkings; her spinning and reeling and knitting; her frequent catechisings, her country walks. We find her mother's testimony to the \"appearance of reason that is in my children and for the readiness with which they seem to learn what is taught them.\" And though she repeatedly thanks God for living in a warm house, she notes that \"my bason of water froze on the hearth with as good a fire as we could make in the chimney.\" This rigor of climate and discomfort of residence, and Anna's evident delicacy shown through the records of her fainting, account for her failing health. The last definite glimpse which we have of our gentle little Nanny is in the shape of a letter written to her by \"Aunt Deming.\" It is dated Boston, April 21, 1779, and is so characteristic of the day and so amusing also that I quote it in full. Dear Neice, I receivd your favor of 6th instant by nephew Jack, who with the Col. his trav'ling companion, perform'd an easy journey from you to us, and arriv'd before sunset. I thank you for the beads, the wire, and the beugles, I fancy I shall never execute the plan of the head dress to which you alludeif I should, some of your largest corn stalks, dril'd of the pith and painted might be more proportionable. I rejoice that your cloths came off so much better than my fearsa troublesome journey, I expected you would have; and very much did I fear for your bones. I was always unhappy in anticipating troubleit is my constitution, I believeand when matters have been better than my fearsI have never been so dutifully thankful as my bountiful Benefactor had a right to expect. This, also, I believe, is the constitution of all my fellow race. Mr. Deming had a Letter from your Papa yesterday; he mention'd your Mama  you as indispos'd  Flavia as sick in bed. I'm at too great a distance to render you the least service, and were I near, too much out of health tosome part of the timeeven speak to you. I am seiz'd with exceeding weakness at the very seat of life, and to a greater degree than I ever before knew. Could I ride, it might help me, but that is an exercise my income will not permit. I walk out whenever I can. The day will surely come, when I must quit this frail tabernacle, and it may be soonI certainly know, I am not of importance eno' in this world, for any one to wish my stayrather am I, and so I consider myself as a cumberground. However I shall abide my appointed time  I desire to be found waiting for my change. Our family are wellhad I time and spirits I could acquaint you of an expedition two sisters made to Dorchester, a walk begun at sunrise last thursday morningdress'd in their dammasks, padusoy, gauze, ribbins, flapets, flowers, new white hats, white shades, and black leather shoes, (Pudingtons make) and finished journey,  garments, orniments, and all quite finish'd on Saturday, before noon, (mud over shoes) never did I behold such destruction in so short a spacebottom of padusoy coat fring'd quite round, besides places worn entire to floss,  besides frays, dammask, from shoulders to bottom, not lightly soil'd, but as if every part had rub'd tables and chairs that had long been us'd to wax mingl'd with grease. I could have cry'd, for I really pitied 'emnothing left fit to be seenThey had leave to go, but it never entered any ones tho'ts but their own to be dressd in all (even to loading) of their besttheir all, as you know. What signifies it to worry ones selves about beings that are, and will be, just so? I can, and do pity and advise, but I shall git no credit by such like. The eldest talks much of learning dancing, musick (the spinet  guitar), embroidry, dresden, the French tongue c c. The younger with an air of her own, advis'd the elder when she first mention'd French, to learn first to read English, and was answered \"law, so I can well eno' a'ready.\" You've heard her do what she calls reading, I believe. Poor creature! Well! we have a time of it! If any one at Marshfield speaks of me remember me to them. Nobody knows I'm writing, each being gone their different ways,  all from home except the little one who is above stairs. Farewell my dear, I've wrote eno' I find for this siting. Yr affect Sarah Deming. It does not need great acuteness to read between the lines of this letter an affectionate desire to amuse a delicate girl whom the writer loved. The tradition in the Winslow family is that Anna Green Winslow died of consumption at Marshfield in the fall of 1779. There is no town or church record of her death, no known grave or headstone to mark her last restingplace. And to us she is not dead, but lives and speaksalways a loving, endearing little child; not so passionate and gifted and rare a creature as that star among childrenMarjorie Flemingbut a natural and homely little flower of New England life; fated never to grow old or feeble or dull or sad, but to live forever and laugh in the glamour of eternal happy youth through the few pages of her timestained diary. Alice Morse Earle. Brooklyn Heights, September, 1894. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE ANNA GREEN WINSLOW. From miniature now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott, Niagara Falls, N.Y. Frontispiece. FACSIMILE OF WRITING OF ANNA GREEN WINSLOW. From original diary 1 WEDDING PARTY IN BOSTON IN 1756. From tapestry now owned by American Antiquarian Society 20 GENERAL JOSHUA WINSLOW. From miniature painted by Copley, 1755, and now owned by Mrs. John F. Lindsey, Yorkville, S.C. 34 EBENEZER STORER. From portrait painted by Copley, now owned by Mrs. Lewis C. Popham, Scarsdale, N.Y. 45 HANNAH GREEN STORER. From portrait painted by Copley, now owned by Mrs. Lewis C. Popham, Scarsdale, N.Y. 65 CUTPAPER PICTURE. Cut by Mrs. Sarah Winslow Deming, now owned by James F. Trott, Esq., Niagara Falls, N.Y. 74 Transcriber's Note: In this transcription of Anna Green Winslow's handwriting, line breaks follow the original. The postscript (\"N.B.\") is in smaller writing, almost surrounding the signature. Handwriting: I hope aunt wont let me wear the black hatt with the red Dominiefor the people will ask me what I have got to sell as I go along street if I do. or, how the folk at Newgui nie do? Dear mamma, you dont know the fation hereI beg to look like other folk. You dont kno what a stir would be made in Sudbury Street were I to make my appearance there in my red Domi nie  black Hatt. But the old cloak  bonnett together will make me a decent Bonnet for common ocation (I like that) aunt says, its a pitty some of the ribbin you sent wont do for the BonnetI must now close up this Journal. With Duty, Love  Compli ments as due, perticularly to my Dear little brother, (I long to see him)  M.rs Law, I will write to her soon I am, Hon.d Papa  mama, Y.r ever Dutiful Daughter Anna Green Winslow. N.B. my aunt Deming dont approve of my English.  has not the fear that you will think her concernd in the Diction DIARY OF ANNA GREEN WINSLOW. 17711773. . . . . . Lady, by which means I had a bit of the wedding cake. I guess I shall have but little time for journalising till after thanksgiving. My aunt Deming1 says I shall make one pye myself at least. I hope somebody beside myself will like to eat a bit of my Boston pye thou' my papa and you did not (I remember) chuse to partake of my Cumberland2 performance. I think I have been writing my own Praises this morning. Poor Job was forced to praise himself when no man would do him that justice. I am not as he was. I have made two shirts for unkle since I finish'd mamma's shifts. Novr 18th, 1771.Mr. Beacons3 text yesterday was Psalm cxlix. 4. For the Lord taketh pleasure in his people; he will beautify the meek with salvation. His Doctrine was something like this, viz: That the Salvation of Gods people mainly consists in Holiness. The name Jesus signifies a Savior. Jesus saves his people from their Sins. He renews them in the spirit of their mindswrites his Law in their hearts. Mr. Beacon ask'd a question. What is beautyor, wherein does true beauty consist? He answer'd, in holinessand said a great deal about it that I can't remember,  as aunt says she hant leisure now to help me any furtherso I may just tell you a little that I remember without her assistance, and that I repeated to her yesterday at TeaHe said he would lastly address himself to the young people: My dear young friends, you are pleased with beauty,  like to be tho't beautifullbut let me tell ye, you'l never be truly beautifull till you are like the King's daughter, all glorious within, all the orniments you can put on while your souls are unholy make you the more like white sepulchres garnish'd without, but full of deformyty within. You think me very unpolite no doubt to address you in this manner, but I must go a little further and tell you, how cource soever it may sound to your delicacy, that while you are without holiness, your beauty is deformityyou are all over black  defil'd, ugly and loathsome to all holy beings, the wrath of th' great God lie's upon you,  if you die in this condition, you will be turn'd into hell, with ugly devils, to eternity. Nov. 27th.We are very glad to see Mr. Gannett, because of him \"we hear of your affairs  how you do\"as the apostle Paul once wrote. My unkle  aunt however, say they are sorry he is to be absent, so long as this whole winter, I think. I long now to have you come upI want to see papa, mama,  brother, all most, for I cannot make any distinction which mostI should like to see Harry too. Mr. Gannett tells me he keeps a journalI do want to see thatespecially as Mr. Gannett has given me some specimens, as I may say of his \"I and Aunt c.\" I am glad Miss Jane is with you, I will write to her soonLast monday I went with my aunt to visit Mrs. Beacon. I was exceedingly pleased with the visit,  so I ought to be, my aunt says, for there was much notice taken of me, particylarly by Mr. Beacon. I think I like him better every time I see him. I suppose he takes the kinder notice of me, because last thursday evening he was here,  when I was out of the room, aunt told him that I minded his preaching  could repeat what he saidI might have told you that notwithstanding the stir about the Proclamatien, we had an agreable Thanksgiven. Mr. Hunt's4 text was Psa. xcvii. 1. The LORD reigneth,let the earth rejoice. Mr. Beacon's text P M Psa. xxiv. 1. The earth is the LORD's  the fulness thereof. My unkle  aunt Winslow5 of Boston, their son  daughter, Master Daniel Mason (Aunt Winslows nephew from Newport, Rhode Island)  Miss Soley6 spent the evening with us. We young folk had a room with a fire in it to ourselves. Mr Beacon gave us his company for one hour. I spent Fryday with my friends in Sudbury Street. I saw Mrs. Whitwell7 very well yesterday, she was very glad of your Letter. Nov. 28th.I have your favor Hond Mamma, by Mr. Gannett,  heartily thank you for the broad cloath, bags, ribbin  hat. The cloath  bags are both at work upon,  my aunt has bought a beautifull ermin trimming for my cloak. AC stands for Abigail Church. PF for Polly Frazior. I have presented one piece of ribbin to my aunt as you directed. She gives her love to you,  thanks you for it. I intend to send Nancy Mackky a pair of lace mittens,  the fag end of Harry's watch string. I hope Carolus (as papa us'd to call him) will think his daughter very smart with them. I am glad Hond madam, that you think my writing is better than it us'd to beyou see it is mended just here. I dont know what you mean by terrible margins vaze. I will endeavor to make my letters even for the future. Has Mary brought me any Lozong Mamma? I want to know whether I may give my old black quilt to Mrs Kuhn, for aunt sais, it is never worth while to take the pains to mend it again. Papa has wrote me a longer letter this time than you have Madm. November the 29th.My aunt Deming gives her love to you and says it is this morning 12 years since she had the pleasure of congratulating papa and you on the birth of your scribling daughter. She hopes if I live 12 years longer that I shall write and do everything better than can be expected in the past 12. I should be obliged to you, you will dismiss me for company. 30th Nov.My company yesterday were Miss Polly Deming,8 Miss Polly Glover,9 Miss Peggy Draper, Miss Bessy Winslow,10 Miss Nancy Glover,11 Miss Sally Winslow12 Miss Polly Atwood, Miss Hanh Soley. Miss Attwood as well as Miss Winslow are of this family. And Miss N. Glover did me honor by her presence, for she is older than cousin Sally and of her acquaintance. We made four couple at country dansing; danceing I mean. In the evening young Mr. Waters13 hearing of my assembly, put his flute in his pocket and played several minuets and other tunes, to which we danced mighty cleverly. But Lucinda14 was our principal piper. Miss Church and Miss Chaloner would have been here if sickness,and the Miss Sheafs,15 if the death of their father had not prevented. The black Hatt I gratefully receive as your present, but if Captain Jarvise had arrived here with it about the time he sail'd from this place for Cumberland it would have been of more service to me, for I have been oblig'd to borrow. I wore Miss Griswold's16 Bonnet on my journey to Portsmouth,  my cousin Sallys Hatt ever since I came home,  now I am to leave off my black ribbins tomorrow,  am to put on my red cloak  black hattI hope aunt wont let me wear the black hatt with the red Dominiefor the people will ask me what I have got to sell as I go along street if I do, or, how the folk at New guinie do? Dear mamma, you dont know the fation hereI beg to look like other folk. You dont know what a stir would be made in sudbury street, were I to make my appearance there in my red Dominie  black Hatt. But the old cloak  bonnett together will make me a decent bonnett for common ocation (I like that) aunt says, its a pitty some of the ribbins you sent wont do for the Bonnet.I must now close up this Journal. With Duty, Love,  Compliments as due, perticularly to my Dear little brother (I long to see him)  Mrs. Law, I will write to her soon. I am Hond Papa  mama, Yr ever Dutiful Daughter ANNE GREEN WINSLOW. N.B. My aunt Deming dont approve of my English  has not the fear that you will think her concernd in the Diction. Decbr. 6th.Yesterday I was prevented dining at unkle Joshua's17 by a snow storm which lasted till 12 o'clock today, I spent some part of yesterday afternoon and evening at Mr. Glovers. When I came home, the snow being so deep I was bro't home in arms. My aunt got Mr. Soley's Charlstown to fetch me. The snow is up to the peoples wast in some places in the street. Dec 14th.The weather and walking have been very winter like since the above hotchpotch, pothooks  trammels. I went to Mrs. Whitwell's last wednessdayyou taught me to spell the 4 day of the week, but my aunt says that it should be spelt wednesday. My aunt also says, that till I come out of an egregious fit of laughterre that is apt to sieze me  the violence of which I am at this present under, neither English sense, nor anything rational may be expected of me. I ment to say, that, I went to Mrs. Whitwell's to see Madm Storers18 funeral, the walking was very bad except on the sides of the street which was the reason I did not make a part of the procession. I should have dined with Mrs. Whitwell on thursday if a grand storm had not prevented, As she invited me. I saw Miss Caty Vans19 at lecture last evening. I had a visit this morning from Mrs Dixon of Horton  Miss Polly Huston. Mrs Dixon is dissipointed at not finding her sister here. Decr 24th.Elder Whitwell told my aunt, that this winter began as did the Winter of 1740. How that was I dont remember but this I know, that today is by far the coldest we have had since I have been in New England. (N.B. All run that are abroad.) Last sabbath being rainy I went to  from meeting in Mr. Soley's chaise. I dined at unkle Winslow's, the walking being so bad I rode there  back to meeting. Every drop that fell froze, so that from yesterday morning to this time the appearance has been similar to the discription I sent you last winter. The walking is so slippery  the air so cold, that aunt chuses to have me for her scoller these two days. And as tomorrow will be a holiday, so the pope and his associates have ordained,20 my aunt thinks not to trouble Mrs Smith with me this week. I began a shift at home yesterday for myself, it is pretty forward. Last Saturday was sevennight my aunt Suky21 was delivered of a pretty little son, who was baptiz'd by Dr. Cooper22 the next day by the name of Charles. I knew nothing of it till noonday, when I went there a visiting. Last Thursday I din'd  spent the afternoon at unkle Joshua's I should have gone to lecture with my aunt  heard our Mr Hunt preach, but she would not wait till I came from writing school. Miss Atwood, the last of our boarders, went off the same day. Miss Griswold  Miss Meriam, having departed some time agone, I forget whether I mention'd the recept of Nancy's present. I am oblig'd to her for it. The Dolphin is still whole. And like to remain so. Decr 27th.This day, the extremity of the cold is somewhat abated. I keept Christmas at home this year,  did a very good day's work, aunt says so. How notable I have been this week I shall tell you by  by. I spent the most part of Tuesday evening with my favorite, Miss Soley,  as she is confined by a cold  the weather still so severe that I cannot git farther, I am to visit her again before I sleep,  consult with her (or rather she with me) upon a perticular matter, which you shall know in its place. How strangely industrious I have been this week, I will inform you with my own handat present, I am so dilligent, that I am oblig'd to use the hand  pen of my old friend, who being near by is better than a brother far off. I dont forgit dear little John Henry so pray mamma, dont mistake me. Decr 28th.Last evening a little after 5 o'clock I finished my shift. I spent the evening at Mr. Soley's. I began my shift at 12 o'clock last monday, have read my bible every day this week  wrote every day save one. Decr 30th.I return'd to my sewing school after a weeks absence, I have also paid my compliments to Master Holbrook.23 Yesterday between meetings my aunt was call'd to Mrs. Water's13  about 8 in the evening Dr. Lloyd24 brought little master to town (N.B. As a memorandum for myself. My aunt stuck a white sattan pincushin25 for Mrs Waters.13 On one side, is a planthorn with flowers, on the reverse, just under the border are, on one side stuck these words, Josiah Waters, then follows on the end, Decr 1771, on the next side  end are the words, Welcome little Stranger.) Unkle has just come in  bro't one from me. I mean, unkle is just come in with a letter from Papa in his hand ( none for me) by way of Newbury. I am glad to hear that all was well the 26 Novr ult. I am told my Papa has not mention'd me in this Letter. Out of sight, out of mind. My aunt gives her love to papa,  says that she will make the necessary enquieries for my brother and send you via. Halifax what directions and wormseed she can collect. 1st Jany 1772.I wish my Papa, Mama, brother John Henry,  cousin Avery  all the rest of my acquaintance at Cumberland, Fortlaurence, Barronsfield, Greenland, Amherst c. a Happy New Year, I have bestow'd no new year's gift,26 as yet. But have received one very handsome one, viz. the History of Joseph Andrews abreviated. In nice Guilt and flowers covers. This afternoon being a holiday I am going to pay my compliments in Sudbury Street. Jany 4th 1772I was dress'd in my yellow coat, my black bib  apron, my pompedore27 shoes, the cap my aunt Storer28 sometime since presented me with (blue ribbins on it)  a very handsome loket in the shape of a hart she gave methe past pin my Hond Papa presented me with in my cap, My new cloak  bonnet on, my pompedore gloves, c, c. And I would tell you, that for the first time, they all lik'd my dress very much. My cloak  bonnett are really very handsome,  so they had need be. For they cost an amasing sight of money, not quite 4529 tho' Aunt Suky said, that she suppos'd Aunt Deming would be frighted out of her Wits at the money it cost. I have got one covering, by the cost, that is genteel,  I like it much myself. On thursday I attended my aunt to Lecture  heard Dr Chauncey30 preach a third sermon from Acts ii. 42. They continued stedfastlyin breaking of bread. I din'd  spent the afternoon at Mr. Whitwell's. Miss Caty Vans was one of our company. Dr. Pemberton31  Dr Cooper had on gowns, In the form of the Episcopal cassock we hear, the Docts design to distinguish themselves from the inferior clergy by these strange habits at a time too when the good people of N.E. are threaten'd with  dreading the comeing of an episcopal bishop32 N.B. I dont know whether one sleeve would make a full trimm'd negligee33 as the fashion is at present, tho' I cant say but it might make one of the frugal sort, with but scant triming. Unkle says, they all have popes in their bellys. Contrary to I. Peter v. 2. 3. Aunt says, when she saw Dr P. roll up the pulpit stairs, the figure of Parson Trulliber, recorded by Mr Fielding occur'd to her mind  she was really sorry a congregational divine, should, by any instance whatever, give her so unpleasing an idea. Jany 11th.I have attended my schools every day this week except wednesday afternoon. When I made a setting up visit to aunt Suky,  was dress'd just as I was to go to the ball. It cost me a pistoreen34 to nurse Eaton for tow cakes, which I took care to eat before I paid for them.35 I heard Mr Thacher preach our Lecture last evening Heb. 11. 3. I remember a great deal of the sermon, but a'nt time to put it down. It is one year last Sepr since he was ordain'd  he will be 20 years of age next May if he lives so long. I forgot that the weather want fit for me to go to school last thursday. I work'd at home. Jany 17th.I told you the 27th Ult that I was going to a constitation with miss Soley. I have now the pleasure to give you the result, viz. a very genteel well regulated assembly which we had at Mr Soley's last evening, miss Soley being mistress of the ceremony. Mrs Soley desired me to assist Miss Hannah in making out a list of guests which I did some time since, I wrote all the invitation cards. There was a large company assembled in a handsome, large, upper room in the new end of the house. We had two fiddles,  I had the honor to open the diversion of the evening in a minuet with miss Soley.Here follows a list of the company as we form'd for country dancing. Miss Soley  Miss Anna Greene Winslow Miss Calif Miss Scott Miss Williams Miss McCarthy Miss Codman Miss Winslow Miss Ives Miss Coffin Miss Scolley36 Miss Bella Coffin37 Miss Waldow Miss Quinsy38 Miss Glover Miss Draper Miss Hubbard Miss Cregur (usually pronounced Kicker)  two Miss Sheafs were invited but were sick or sorry  beg'd to be excus'd. There was a little Miss Russell  the little ones of the family present who could not dance. As spectators, there were Mr  Mrs Deming, Mr.  Mrs Sweetser Mr  Mrs Soley, Mr  Miss Cary, Mrs Draper, Miss Oriac, Miss Hannahour treat was nuts, rasins, Cakes, Wine, punch,39 hot  cold, all in great plenty. We had a very agreeable evening from 5 to 10 o'clock. For variety we woo'd a widow, hunted the whistle, threaded the needle,  while the company was collecting, we diverted ourselves with playing of pawns, no rudeness Mamma I assure you. Aunt Deming desires you would perticulary observe, that the elderly part of the company were spectators only, they mix'd not in either of the above describ'd scenes. I was dress'd in my yellow coat, black bib  apron, black feathers on my head, my past comb,  all my past40 garnet marquesett41  jet pins, together with my silver plumemy loket, rings, black collar round my neck, black mitts  2 or 3 yards of blue ribbin, (black  blue is high tast) striped tucker and ruffels (not my best)  my silk shoes compleated my dress. Jany 18th.Yesterday I had an invitation to celebrate Miss Caty's birthday with her. She gave it me the night before. Miss is 10 years old. The best dancer in Mr Turners42 school, she has been his scoller these 3 years. My aunt thought it proper (as our family had a invitation) that I should attend a neighbor's funeral yesterday P.M. I went directly from it to Miss Caty's Rout  arriv'd ex . . . . . . BOSTON January 25 1772. Hon'd Mamma, My Hon'd Papa has never signified to me his approbation of my journals, from whence I infer, that he either never reads them, or does not give himself the trouble to remember any of their contents, tho' some part has been address'd to him, so, for the future, I shall trouble only you with this part of my scribbleLast thursday I din'd at Unkle Storer's  spent the afternoon in that neighborhood. I met with some adventures in my way viz. As I was going, I was overtaken by a lady who was quite a stranger to me. She accosted me with \"how do you do miss?\" I answer'd her, but told her I had not the pleasure of knowing her. She then ask'd \"what is your name miss? I believe you think 'tis a very strange questian to ask, but have a mind to know.\" Nanny GreenShe interrupted me with \"not Mrs. Winslow of Cumberland's daughter.\" Yes madam I am. When did you hear from your Mamma? how do's she do? When shall you write to her? When you do, tell her that you was overtaken in the street by her old friend Mrs Login, give my love to her  tell her she must come up soon  live on Jamaca plain. we have got a nice meetinghouse,  a charming minister,  all so cleaver. She told me she had ask'd Unkle Harry to bring me to see her,  he said he would. Her minister is Mr Gordon. I have heard him preach several times at the O. South. In the course of my peregrination, as aunt calls it, I happen'd in to a house where D was attending the Lady of the family. How long she was at his opperation, I know not. I saw him twist  tug  pick  cut off whole locks of grey hair at a slice (the lady telling him she would have no hair to dress next time) for the space of a hour  a half, when I left them, he seeming not to be near done. This lady is not a grandmother tho' she is both old enough  grey enough to be one. Jany 31I spent yesterday with Aunt Storer, except a little while I was at Aunt Sukey's with Mrs Barrett dress'd in a white brocade,  cousin Betsey dress'd in a red lutestring, both adorn'd with past, perls marquesett c. They were after tea escorted by Mr. Newton  Mr Barrett to ye assembly at Concert Hall. This is a snowy day,  I am prevented going to school. Illustration: WEDDING PARTY IN BOSTON IN 1756 Feb. 9th.My honored Mamma will be so good as to excuse my useing the pen of my old friend just here, because I am disabled by a whitloe on my fourth finger  something like one on my middle finger, from using my own pen; but altho' my right hand is in bondage, my left is free;  my aunt says, it will be a nice oppertunity if I do but improve it, to perfect myself in learning to spin flax. I am pleased with the proposal  am at this present, exerting myself for this purpose. I hope, when two, or at most three months are past, to give you occular demonstration of my proficiency in this art, as well as several others. My fingers are not the only part of me that has suffer'd with sores within this fortnight, for I have had an ugly great boil upon my right hip  about a dozen small onesI am at present swath'd hip  thigh, as Samson smote the Philistines, but my soreness is near over. My aunt thought it highly proper to give me some cooling physick, so last tuesday I took 12 oz Globe Salt (a disagreeable potion)  kept chamber. Since which, there has been no new erruption,  a great alteration for the better in those I had before. I have read my bible to my aunt this morning (as is the daily custom)  sometimes I read other books to her. So you may perceive, I have the use of my tongue  I tell her it is a good thing to have the use of my tongue. Unkle Ned43 called here just nowall wellby the way he is come to live in Boston again,  till he can be better accomodated, is at housekeeping where Madm Storer lately lived, he is looking for a less house. I tell my Aunt I feel a disposician to be a good girl,  she pleases herself that she shall have much comfort of me today, which as cousin Sally is ironing we expect to have to ourselves. Feb. 10th.This day I paid my respects to Master Holbrook, after a week's absence, my finger is still in limbo as you may see by the writeing. I have not paid my compliments to Madam Smith,44 for, altho' I can drive the goos quill a bit, I cannot so well manage the needle. So I will lay my hand to the distaff, as the virtuous woman did of oldYesterday was very bad weather, neither aunt, nor niece at publick worship. Feb. 12th.Yesterday afternoon I spent at unkle Joshuas. Aunt Green gave me a plaister for my fingure that has near cur'd it, but I have a new boil, which is under poultice,  tomorrow I am to undergo another seasoning with globe Salt. The following lines Aunt Deming found in grandmama Sargent's45 pocketbook  gives me leave to copy 'em here. Dim eyes, deaf ears, cold stomach shew, My dissolution is in view The shuttle's thrown, my race is run, My sun is set, my work is done; My span is out, my tale is told, My flower's decay'd,  stock grows old, The dream is past, the shadows fled, My soul now longs for Christ my head, I've lived to seventy six or nigh, GOD calls at last,  now I'll die.46 My honor'd Grandma departed this vale of tears 14 before 4 o'clock wednesday morning August 21, 1771. Aged 74 years, 2 months  ten days. Feb. 13th.Everybody says that this is a bitter cold day, but I know nothing about it but hearsay for I am in aunt's chamber (which is very warm always) with a nice fire, a stove, sitting in Aunt's easy chair, with a tall three leav'd screen at my back,  I am very comfortable. I took my second ( I hope last) potion of Globe salts this morning. I went to see Aunt Storer yesterday afternoon,  by the way Unkle Storer is so ill that he keeps chamber. As I went down I call'd at Mrs Whitwell's  must tell you Mr  Mrs Whitwell are both ill. Mrs. Whitwell with the rheumatism. I saw Madm Harris, Mrs Mason and Miss Polly Vans47 there, they all give their love to youLast evening I went to catechizing with Aunt. Our ministers have agreed during the long evenings to discourse upon the questions or some of 'em in the assembly's shorter catechism, taking 'em in their order at the house of Mrs Rogers in School Street, every wednesday evening. Mr. Hunt began with the first question and shew'd what it is to glorify GOD. Mr Bacon then took the second, what rule c. which he has spent three evenings upon,  now finished. Mr Hunt having taken his turn to show what the Scriptures principly teach,  what is GOD. I remember he said that there was nothing properly done without a rule,  he said that the rule God had given us to glorify him by was the bible. How miraculously (said he) has God preserv'd this blessed book. It was once in the reign of a heathen emperor condemn'd to be burnt, at which time it was death to have a bible  conceal it, but God's providence was wonderful in preserving it when so much human policy had been exerted to bury it in Oblivionbut for all that, here we have it as pure  uncorrupted as evermany books of human composure have had much pains taken to preserve 'em, notwithstanding they are buried in Oblivion. He considered who was the author of the bible, he prov'd that GOD was the author, for no good man could be the author, because such a one would not be guilty of imposition,  an evil man could not unless we suppose a house divided against itself. he said a great deal more to prove the bible is certainly the word of God from the matter it contains c, but the best evidence of the truth of divine revelation, every true believer has in his own heart. This he said, the natural man had no idea of. I did not understand all he said about the external and internal evidence, but this I can say, that I understand him better than any body else that I hear preach. Aunt has been down stairs all the time I have been recolecting  writeing this. Therefore, all this of own head, of consequence. Valentine day.48My cousin Sally reeled off a 10 knot skane of yarn today. My valentine was an old country plowjoger. The yarn was of my spinning. Aunt says it will do for filling. Aunt also says niece is a whimsical child. Feb. 17.Since Wednesday evening, I have not been abroad since yesterday afternoon. I went to meeting  back in Mr. Soley's chaise. Mr. Hunt preached. He said that human nature is as opposite to God as darkness to light. That our sin is only bounded by the narrowness of our capacity. His text was Isa. xli. 14. 18. The mountains c. He said were unbelief, pride, covetousness, enmity, c. c. c. This morning I took a walk for Aunt as far as Mr. Soley's. I called at Mrs Whitwell's  found the good man  lady both better than when I saw them last. On my return I found Mr. Hunt on a visit to aunt. After the usual salutations  when did you hear from your papa c. I ask'd him if the blessing pronounced by the minister before the congregation is dismissed, is not a part of the publick worship? \"Yes.\" \"Why then, do you Sir, say, let us conclude the publick worship by singing?\" \"Because singing is the last act in which the whole congregation is unanimously to join. The minister in Gods name blesses his i.e. Gods people agreeable to the practice of the apostles, who generally close the epistles with a benediction in the name of the Trinity, to which, Amen is subjoined, which, tho' pronounc'd by the minister, is, or ought to be the sentiment  prayer of the whole assembly, the meaning whereof is, So be it.\" Feb. 18th.Another ten knot skane of my yarn was reel'd off today. Aunt says it is very good. My boils  whitloes are growing well apace, so that I can knit a little in the evening. Transcribed from the Boston Evening Post: Sep. 18, 1771. Under the head of London news, you may find that last Thursday was married at Worcester the Widow Biddle of Wellsburn in the county of Warwick, to her grandson John Biddle of the same place, aged twenty three years. It is very remarkable. the widdow had one son  one daughter; 18 grandchildren  5 great grandchildren; her present husband has one daughter, who was her great granddaughter but is now become her daughter; her other great grandchildren are become her cousins; her grandchildren her brothers  sisters; her son  daughter her father  mother. I think! tis the most extraordinary account I ever read in a NewsPaper. It will serve to puzzel Harry Dering with. Transcriber's Note: \"I think! tis\" may be a typographical error for \"I think 'tis\". Monday Feb. 18thBitter cold. I am just come from writing school. Last Wednesday P.M. while I was at school Aunt Storer called in to see Aunt Deming in her way to Mr Inches's. She walk'd all that long way. Thursday last I din'd  spent the afternoon with Aunt Sukey. I attended both my schools in the morning of that day. I cal'd at unkle Joshua's as I went along, as I generally do, when I go in town, it being all in my way. Saterday I din'd at Unkle Storer's, drank tea at Cousin Barrel's, was entertain'd in the afternoon with scating. Unkle Henry was there. Yesterday by the help of neighbor Soley's Chaise, I was at meeting all day, tho' it snow'd in the afternoon. I might have say'd I was at Unkle Winslow's last Thursday Eveg  when I inform you that my needle work at school,  knitting at home, went on as usual, I think I have laid before you a pretty full account of the last week. You see how I improve in my writing, but I drive on as fast as I can. Feb. 21, Thursday.This day Jack Frost bites very hard, so hard aunt won't let me go to any school. I have this morning made part of a coppy with the very pen I have now in my hand, writting this with. Yesterday was so cold there was a very thick vapor upon the water, but I attended my schools all day. My unkle says yesterday was 10 degrees colder than any day we have had before this winter. And my aunt says she believes this day is 10 degrees colder than it was yesterday;  moreover, that she would not put a dog out of doors. The sun gives forth his rays through a vapor like that which was upon the water yesterday. But Aunt bids me give her love to pappa  all the family  tell them that she should be glad of their company in her warm parlour, indeed there is not one room in this house but is very warm when there is a good fire in them. As there is in this at present. Yesterday I got leave (by my aunt's desire) to go from school at 4 o'clock to see my unkle Ned who has had the misfortune to break his leg. I call'd in to warm myself at unkle Joshua's. Aunt Hannah told me I had better not go any further for she could tell me all about him, so I say'd as it is so cold I believe aunt won't be angry so I will stay, I therefore took off my things, aunt gave me leave to call at Unkle Joshua's  was very glad I went no further. Aunt Hannah told me he was as well as could be expected for one that has a broken bone. He was coming from Watertown in a chaise the horse fell down on the Hill, this side Mr Brindley's. he was afraid if he fell out, the wheel would run over him, he therefore gave a start  fell out  broke his leg, the horse strugled to get up, but could not. unkle Ned was affraid if he did get up the chaise wheels would run over him, so he went on his two hands and his other foot drawing his lame leg after him  got behind the chaise, (so he was safe)  there lay in the snow for some time, nobody being near. at last 2 genteelmen came, they tho't the horse was dead when they first saw him at a distance, but hearing somebody hollow, went up to it. By this time there was a countraman come along, the person that hollow'd was unkle Ned. They got a slay and put him in it with some hay and a blanket, wrapt him up well as they could  brought him to Deacon Smith's in town. Now Papa  Mamma, this hill is in Brookline. And now again, I have been better inform'd for the hill is in Roxbury  poor Unkle Ned was alone in the chaise. Both bones of his leg are broke, but they did not come thro' the skin, which is a happy circumstance. It is his right leg that is broke. My Grandmamma sent Miss Deming, Miss Winslow  I one eightth of a Dollar a piece for a New Years gift. My Aunt Deming  Miss Deming had letters from Grandmamma. She was pretty well, she wrote aunt that Mrs Marting was brought to bed with a son Joshua about a month since,  is with her son very well. Grandmamma was very well last week. I have made the purchase I told you of a few pages agone, that is, last Thursday I purchas'd with my aunt Deming's leave, a very beautiful white feather hat, that is, the out side, which is a bit of white hollond with the feathers sew'd on in a most curious manner white  unsullyed as the falling snow, this hat I have long been saving my money to procure for which I have let your kind allowance, Papa, lay in my aunt's hands till this hat which I spoke for was brought home. As I am (as we say) a daughter of liberty49 I chuse to wear as much of our own manufactory as pocible. But my aunt says, I have wrote this account very badly. I will go on to save my money for a chip  a lineing c. Papa I rec'd your letter dated Jan. 11, for which I thank you, Sir,  thank you greatly for the money I received therewith. I am very glad to hear that Brother John papa  mamma  cousin are well. I'll answer your letter papa and yours mamma and cousin Harry's too. I am very glad mamma your eyes are better. I hope by the time I have the pleasure of hearing from Cumberland again your eyes will be so well that you will favor me with one from you. Feb. 22d.Since about the middle of December, ult. we have had till this week, a series of cold and stormy weatherevery snow storm (of which we have had abundance) except the first, ended with rain, by which means the snow was so hardened that strong gales at NW soon turned it,  all above ground to ice, which this day sevennight was from one to three, four  they say, in some places, five feet thick, in the streets of this town. Last saturday morning we had a snow storm come on, which continued till four o'clock P.M. when it turned to rain, since which we have had a warm air, with many showers of rain, one this morning a little before day attended with thunder. The streets have been very wet, the water running like rivers all this week, so that I could not possibly go to school, neither have I yet got the bandage off my fingure. Since I have been writing now, the wind suddenly sprung up at NW and blew with violence so that we may get to meeting tomorrow, perhaps on dry ground. Unkle Ned was here just now  has fairly or unfairly carried off aunt's cut paper pictures,50 tho' she told him she had given them to papa some years ago. It has been a very sickly time here, not one person that I know of but has been under heavy colds(all laid up at unkle Storer's) in general got abroad again. Aunt Suky had not been down stairs since her lying in, when I last saw her, but I hear she is got down. She has had a broken breast. I have spun 30 knots of linning yarn, and (partly) new footed a pair of stockings for Lucinda, read a part of the pilgrim's progress, coppied part of my text journal (that if I live a few years longer, I may be able to understand it, for aunt sais, that to her, the contents as I first mark'd them, were an impenetrable secret) play'd some, tuck'd a great deal (Aunt Deming says it is very true) laugh'd enough,  I tell aunt it is all human nature, if not human reason. And now, I wish my honored mamma a very good night. Saturday noon Feb. 23dDear Pappa, do's the winter continue as pleasant at Cumberland as when you wrote to me last? We had but very little winter here, till February came in, but we have little else since. The cold still continues tho' not so extreme as it was last Thursday. I have attended my schools all this week except one day, and am going as soon as I have din'd to see how Unkle Ned does. I was thinking, Sir, to lay up a piece of money you sent me, but as you sent it to me to lay out I have a mind to buy a chip  linning for my feather hatt. But my aunt says she will think of it. My aunt says if I behave myself very well indeed, not else, she will give me a garland of flowers to orniment it, tho' she has layd aside the biziness of flower making.51 Illustration: GENERAL JOSHUA WINSLOW Feb. 25th.This is a very stormy day of snow, hail  rain, so that I cannot get to Master Holbrook's, therefore I will here copy something I lately transcribed on a loose paper from Dr. Owen's sermon on Hab. iii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. \"I have heard that a full wind behind the ship drives her not so fast forward, as a side wind, that seems almost as much against her as with her;  the reason they say is, because a full wind fills but some of her sails. Wednesday.Very cold, but this morning I was at sewing and writing school, this afternoon all sewing, for Master Holbrook does not in the winter keep school of afternoons. Unkle Henrys feet are so much better that he wears shoos now. Monday noon Feb. 25th. I have been to writing school this morning and Sewing. The day being very pleasant, very little wind stirring. Jemima called to see me last evening. She lives at Master Jimmy Lovel's.52 Dear mamma, I suppose that you would be glad to hear that Betty Smith who has given you so much trouble, is well  behaves herself well  I should be glad if I could write you so. But the truth is, no sooner was the 29th Regiment encamp'd upon the common but miss Betty took herself among them (as the Irish say)  there she stay'd with Bill Pinchion  awhile. The next news of her was, that she was got into gaol for stealing: from whence she was taken to the publick whipping post.53 The next adventure was to the Castle, after the soldier's were remov'd there, for the murder of the 5th March last.54 When they turn'd her away from there, she came up to town again, and soon got into the workhouse for new misdemeanours, she soon ran away from there and sit up her old trade of pilfering again, for which she was put a second time into gaol, there she still remains. About two months agone (as well as I can remember) she  a number of her wretched companions set the gaol on fire, in order to get out, but the fire was timely discovered  extinguished,  there, as I said she still remains till this day, in order to be tried for her crimes. I heard somebody say that as she has some connections with the army no doubt but she would be cleared, and perhaps, have a pension into the bargain. Mr. Henry says the way of sin is down hill, when persons get into that way they are not easily stopped. Feb. 27.This day being too stormy for me to go to any school, and nothing as yet having happen'd that is worth your notice, my aunt gives me leave to communicate to you something that much pleas'd her when she heard of it,  which I hope will please you my Papa and Mamma. I believe I may have inform'd you that since I have been in Boston, Dr. Byles55 has pretty frequently preached  sometimes administer'd the sacrament, when our Candidates have preached to the O.S. Church, because they are not tho't qualified to administer Gospel Ordinance, till they be settled Pastours. About two months ago a brother of the church sent Dr Byles a Card which contain'd after the usual introduction, the following words, Mr W dont set up for an Expositor of Scripture, yet ventures to send Dr. Byles a short comment on 1 Cor. ix. 11. which he thinks agreeable to the genuine import of the text,  hopes the Dr will not disapprove it. The comment was a dozen pounds of Chocolate c.To which the Dr return'd the following very pretty answer. Dr Byles returns respects to Mr W  most heartily thanks him for his judicious practical Familie Expositor, which is in Tast. My aunt Deming gives her love to you mamma, and bids me tell you, as a matter you will be very glad to know, that Dr Byles  his lady  family, have enjoy'd a good share of health  perfect harmony for several years past. Mr Beacon is come home. My unkle Neddy is very comfortable, has very little pain,  know fever with his broken bone. My Unkle Harry56 was here yesterday  is very well. Poor Mrs Inches is dangerously ill of a fever. We have not heard how she does today. March 4th.Poor Mrs Inches is dead. Gone from a world of trouble, as she has left this to her poor mother. Aunt says she heartyly pities Mrs Jackson. Mr Nat. Bethune died this morning, Mrs Inches last night. We had the greatest fall of snow yesterday we have had this winter. Yet cousin Sally, miss Polly,  I rode to  from meeting in Mr Soley's chaise both forenoon  afternoon,  with a stove57 was very comfortable there. If brother John is as well and hearty as cousin Frank, he is a clever boy. Unkle Neddy continues very comfortable. I saw him last saturday. I have just now been writing four lines in my Book almost as well as the copy. But all the intreaties in the world will not prevail upon me to do always as well as I can, which is not the least trouble to me, tho' its a great grief to aunt Deming. And she says by writing so frightfully above. March 6.I think the appearance this morning is as winterish as any I can remember, earth, houses, trees, all covered with snow, which began to fall yesterday morning  continued falling all last night. The Sun now shines very bright, the N.W. wind blows very fresh. Mr Gannett din'd here yesterday, from him, my unkle, aunt  cousin Sally, I had an account of yesterday's publick performances,58  exhibitions, but aunt says I need not write about 'em because, no doubt there will be printed accounts. I should have been glad if I could have seen  heard for myselfe. My face is better, but I have got a heavy cold yet. March 9th.After being confined a week, I rode yesterday afternoon to  from meeting in Mr Soley's chaise. I got no cold and am pretty well today. This has been a very snowy day today. Any body that sees this may see that I have wrote nonsense but Aunt says, I have been a very good girl to day about my work howeverI think this day's work may be called a piece meal for in the first place I sew'd on the bosom of unkle's shirt, mended two pair of gloves, mended for the wash two handkerchiefs, (one cambrick) sewed on half a border of a lawn apron of aunts, read part of the xxist chapter of Exodous,  a story in the Mother's gift. Now, Hond Mamma, I must tell you of something that happened to me today, that has not happen'd before this great while, viz My Unkle  Aunt both told me, I was a very good girl. Mr Gannett gave us the favour of his company a little while this morning (our head). I have been writing all the above gibberish while aunt has been looking after her familynow she is out of the roomnow she is in takes up my pen in my absence to observe, I am a little simpleton for informing my mamma, that it is a great while since I was prais'd because she will conclude that it is a great while since I deserv'd to be prais'd. I will henceforth try to observe their praise  yours too. I mean deserve. It's now tea timeas soon as that is over, I shall spend the rest of the evening in reading to my aunt. It is near candle lighting. March 10, 5 o'clock P.M.I have finish'd my stent of sewing work for this day  wrote a billet to Miss Caty Vans, a copy of which I shall write on the next page. Tomorrow if the weather is fit I am to visit. I have again been told I was a good girl. My Billet to Miss Vans was in the following words. Miss Green gives her compliments to Miss Vans, and informs her that her aunt Deming quite misunderstood the matter about the queen's nightCap.59 Mrs. Deming thou't that it was a black skull cap linn'd with red that Miss Vans ment which she thou't would not be becoming to Miss Green's light complexion. Miss Green now takes the liberty to send the materials for the Cap Miss Vans was so kind as to say she would make for her, which, when done, she engages to take special care of for Miss Vans' sake. Mrs. Deming joins her compliments with Miss Green'sthey both wish for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Vans. Miss Soley is just come in to visit me  'tis near dark. March 11.Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Thus king Solomon, inspired by the Holy Ghost, cautions, Pro. xxvii. 1. My aunt says, this is a most necessary lesson to be learn'd  laid up in the heart. I am quite of her mind. I have met with a disappointment to day,  aunt says, I may look for them every daywe live in a changing worldin scripture call'd a vale of tears. Uncle said yesterday that there had not been so much snow on the ground this winter as there was thenit has been vastly added to since then,  is now 7 feet deep in some places round this house; it is above the fence in the coart  thick snow began to fall and condtinu'd till about 5 o'clock P.M. (it is about 14 past 8 o'clock) since which there has been a steady rainso no visiting as I hoped this day,  this is the disappointment I mentioned on t'other page. Last saturday I sent my cousin Betsy Storer a Billet of which the following is a copy. Miss Green gives her love to Miss Storer  informs her that she is very sensible of the effects of a bad cold, not only in the pain she has had in her throat, neck and face, which have been much swell'd  which she is not quite clear of, but that she has also been by the same depriv'd of the pleasure of seeing Miss Storer  her other friends in Sudbury Street. She begs, her Duty, Love  Compliments, may be presented as due  that she may be inform'd if they be in health. To this I have receiv'd no answer. I suppose she don't think I am worth an answer. But I have finished my stent, and wrote all under this date,  now I have just daylight eno' to add, my love and duty to dear friends at Cumberland. Illustration: EBENEZER STORER March 14.Mr. Stephen March, at whose house I was treated so kindly last fall, departed this life last week, after languishing several months under a complication of disorderswe have not had perticulars, therefore cannot inform you, whether he engag'd the King of terrors with Christian fortitude, or otherwise. \"Stoop down my Thoughts, that use to rise, Converse a while with Death; Think how a gasping Mortal lies, And pants away his Breath.\" Last Thursday I din'd with unkle Storer,  family at aunt Sukey'sall well except Charles Storer who was not so ill but what, that I mean, he din'd with us. Aunt Suky's Charles is a pretty little boy  grows nicely. We were diverted in the afternoon with an account of a queer Feast that had been made that day in a certain Court of this town for the Entertainment of a number of Toriesperhaps seventeen. One contain'd three calves heads (skin off) with their appurtinencies anciently call'd pluckTheir other dish (for they had but two) contain'd a number of roast fowlshalf a dozen, we suppose,A  all roosters at this season no doubt. Yesterday, soon after I came from writing school we had another snow storm begun, which continued till after I went to bed. This morning the sun shines clear (so it did yesterday morning till 10 o'clock.) It is now bitter cold,  such a quantity of snow upon the ground, as the Old people don't remember ever to have seen before at this time of the year. My aunt Deming says, when she first look'd abroad this morning she felt anxious for her brother,  his family at Cumberland, fearing lest they were covered up in snow. It is now 12 after 12 o'clock noon. The sun has been shineing in his full strength for full 6 hours,  the snow not melted enough anywhere in sight of this house, to cause one drop of water. Footnote A: There was six as I have since heard. March 17.Yesterday, I went to see aunt Polly,  finding her going out, I spent the afternoon with aunt Hannah. While I was out, a snow storm overtook me. This being a fine sun shine (tho' cold) day I have been to writing school,  wrote two pieces, one I presented to aunt Deming, and the other I design for my Honor'd Papa, I hope he will approve of it. I sent a piece of my writing to you Hon'd Mamma last fall, which I hope you receiv'd. When my aunt Deming was a little girl my Grandmamma Sargent told her the following story viz. One Mr. Calf who had three times enjoy'd the Mayorality of the city of London, had after his decease, a monoment erected to his memory with the following inscription on it. Here lies buried the body of Sir Richard Calf, Thrice Lord Mayor of London. Honor, Honor, Honor. A drol gentleman passing by with a bit of chalk in his hand underwrote thus O cruel death! more subtle than a Fox That would not let this Calf become an Ox, That he might browze among the briers  thorns And with his brethren wear, Horns. Horns. Horns. My aunt told me the foregoing some time since  today I ask'd her leave to insert it in my journal. My aunt gives her love to you  directs me to tell you that she tho't my piece of linnin would have made me a dozen of shifts but she could cut no more than ten out of it. There is some left, but not enough for another. Nine of them are finish'd wash'd  iron'd;  the other would have been long since done if my fingers had not been sore. My cousin Sally made three of them for me, but then I made two shirts  part of another for unkle to help her. I believe unless something remarkable should happen, such as a warm day, my mamma will consent that I dedicate a few of my next essays to papa. I think the second thing I said to aunt this morning was, that I intended to be very good all day. To make this out, \"Next unto God, dear Parents I address Myself to you in humble Thankfulness, For all your Care  Charge on me bestow'd; The means of Learning unto me allow'd, Go on I pray,  let me still pursue Those Golden ARTS the Vulgar never knew.\" Yr Dutifull Daughter ANNA GREEN WINSLOW. The poetry I transcrib'd from my Copy Book. March 19.Thursday last I spent at home, except a quarter of an hour between sunset and dark, I stepped over the way to Mr. Glover's with aunt. Yesterday I spent at Unkle Neddy's  stitched wristbands for aunt Polly. By the way, I must inform you, (pray dont let papa see this) that yesterday I put on No 1 of my new shifts,  indeed it is very comfortable. It is long since I had a shift to my back. I dont know if I ever had till nowIt seem'd so strange too, to have any linen below my waistI am going to dine at Mrs. Whitwell's to day, by invitation. I spent last evening at Mrs Rogers. Mr Hunt discoursed upon the doctrine of the Trinityit was the second time that he spoke upon the subject at that place. I did not hear him the first time. His business last eveg was to prove the divinity of the Son,  holy Ghost,  their equality with the Father. My aunt Deming says, it is a grief to her, that I don't always write as well as I can, I can write pretily. March 21.I din'd  spent the afternoon of Thursday last, at Mrs Whitwell's. Mrs Lathrop,  Mrs Carpenter din'd there also. The latter said she was formerly acquainted with mamma, ask'd how she did,  when I heard from her,said, I look'd much like her. Madam Harris  Miss P. Vans were also of the company. While I was abroad the snow melted to such a degree, that my aunt was oblig'd to get Mr Soley's chaise to bring me home. Yesterday, we had by far the gratest storm of wind  snow that there has been this winter. It began to fall yesterday morning  continued falling till after our family were in bed. (P.M.) Mr. Hunt call'd in to visit us just after we rose from diner; he ask'd me, whether I had heard from my papa  mamma, since I wrote 'em. He was answer'd, no sir, it would be strange if I had, because I had been writing to 'em today,  indeed so I did every day. Aunt told him that his name went frequently into my journals together with broken  some times whole sentences of his sermons, conversations c. He laugh'd  call'd me Newsmonger,  said I was a daily advertiser. He added, that he did not doubt but my journals afforded much entertainment  would be a future benefit c. Here is a fine compliment for me mamma. March 26.Yesterday at 6 o'clock, I went to Unkle Winslow's, their neighbor Greenleaf was their. She said she knew Mamma,  that I look like her. Speaking about papa  you occation'd Unkle Winslow to tell me that he had kiss'd you long before papa knew you. From thence we went to Miss Rogers's where, to a full assembly Mr Bacon read his 3d sermon on R. iv. 6, I can remember he said, that, before we all sinned in Adam our father, Christ loved us. He said the Son of God always did as his father gave him commandment,  to prove this, he said, that above 17 hundred years ago he left the bosom of the Father,  came  took up his abode with men,  bore all the scourgings  buffetings which the vile Jews inflicted on him,  then was hung upon the accursed treehe died, was buried,  in three days rose againascended up to heaven  there took his seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high from whence he will come to be the supream and impartial judge of quick  deadand when his poor Mother  her poor husband went to Jerusalem to keep the passover  he went with them, he disputed among the doctors,  when his Mother ask'd him about it he said \"wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business,\"all this he said was a part of that wrighteousness for the sake of which a sinner is justafiedAunt has been up stairs all the time I have been writeing  recollecting thisso no help from her. She is come down now  I have been reading this over to her. She sais, she is glad I remember so much, but I have not done the subject justice. She sais I have blended things somewhat improperlyan interuption by company. March 28.Unkle Harry was here last evening  inform'd us that by a vessel from Halifax which arriv'd yesterday, Mr H Newton, inform'd his brother Mr J Newton of the sudden death of their brother Hibbert in your family 21 January ult. (Just five months to a day since Grandmamma Sargent's death.) With all the circumstances relating to it. My aunt Deming gives her love to Mamma  wishes her a sanctified improvement of all God's dealings with her,  that it would please him to bring her  all the family safe to Boston. Jarvis is put up for Cumberland, we hope he will be there by or before Mayday. This minute I have receiv'd my queen's night cap from Miss Caty Vanswe like it. Aunt says, that if the materials it is made of were more substantial than gauze, it might serve occationally to hold any thing mesur'd by an 12 peck, but it is just as it should be,  very decent,  she wishes my writing was as decent. But I got into one of my frolicks, upon sight of the Cap. April 1st.Will you be offended mamma, if I ask you, if you remember the flock of wild Geese that papa call'd you to see flying over the Blacksmith's shop this day three years? I hope not; I only mean to divert you. The snow is near gone in the street before us,  mud supplys the place thereof; After a week's absence, I this day attended Master Holbrook with some difficulty, what was last week a pond is today a quag, thro' which I got safe however,  if auntA had known it was so bad, she sais she would not have sent me, but I neither wet my feet, nor drabled my clothes, indeed I have but one garment that I could contrive to drabble. N.B. It is 1 April. Footnote A: Miss Green tells her aunt, that the word refer'd to begins with a dipthong. April 3.Yesterday was the annual Fast,  I was at meeting all day. Mr Hunt preach'd A.M. from Zac. vii. 4, 5, 6, 7. He said, that if we did not mean as we said in pray's it was only a compliment put upon God, which was a high affront to his divine Majesty. Mr Bacon, P.M. from James v. 17. He said, \"pray's, effectual  fervent, might be, where there were no words, but there might be elegant words where there is no prayr's. The essence of pray's consists in offering up holy desires to God agreeable to his will,it is the flowing out of gracious affectionswhat then are the pray'rs of an unrenewed heart that is full of enmity to God? doubtless they are an abomination to him. What then, must not unregenerate men pray? I answer, it is their duty to breathe out holy desires to God in pray's. Prayer is a natural duty. Hannah pour'd out her soul before the Lord, yet her voice was not heard, only her lips moved. Some grieve and complain that their pray's are not answered, but if thy will be done is, as it ought to be, in every prayer; their prayers are answer'd.\" The wind was high at N.E. all day yesterday, but nothing fell from the dark clouds that overspread the heavens, till 8 o'clock last evening, when a snow began which has continued falling ever since. The bell being now ringing for 1 o'clock P.M.  no sign of abatement. My aunt Deming says, that if my memory had been equal to the memory of some of my ancestors, I might have done better justice to Mr. Bacon's good sermon,  that if hers had been better than mine she would have helped me. Mr Bacon did say what is here recorded, but in other method. April 6.I made a shift to walk to meeting yesterday morning. But there was so much water in the streets when I came home from meeting that I got a seat in Mr Waleses chaise. My aunt walk'd home  she sais thro' more difaculty than ever she did in her life before. Indeed had the stream get up from our meeting house as it did down, we might have taken boat as we have talk'd some times of doing to cross the street to our oposite neighbor Soley's chaise. I remember some of Mr Hunts sermon, how much will appear in my text journal. April 7.I visited yesterday P.M. with my aunt at Mr Waldron's. This afternoon I am going with my aunt to visit Mrs Salisbury who is Dr Sewall's granddaughter, I expect Miss Patty Waldow will meet me there. It is but a little way  we can now thro' favour cross the street without the help of a boat. I saw Miss Polly Vans this morning. She gives her love to you. As she always does whenever I see her. Aunt Deming is this minute come into the room,  from what her niece has wrote last, takes the liberty to remind you, that Miss Vans is a sister of the Old South Church, a society remarkable for Love. Aunt Deming is sorry she has spoil'd the look of this page by her carelessness  hopes her niece will mend its appearance in what follows. She wishes my English had been better, but has not time to correct more than one word. April 9.We made the visit refer'd to above. The company was old Mrs Salisbury,60 Mrs Hill, (Mrs Salisbury's sister she was Miss Hannah Sewall  is married to young Mr James Hill that us'd to live in this house) Miss Sally Hill, Miss Polly Belcher Lyde, Miss Caty Sewall, My Aunt  myself. Yesterday afternoon I visited Miss Polly Deming  took her with me to Mr Rogers' in the evening where Mr Hunt discours'd upon the 7th question of the catechism viz what are the decrees of God? I remember a good many of his observations, which I have got set down on a loose paper. But my aunt says that a Miss of 12 year's old cant possibly do justice to the nicest subject in Divinity,  therefore had better not attempt a repetition of perticulars, that she finds lie (as may be easily concluded) somewhat confused in my young mind. She also says, that in her poor judgment, Mr Hunt discours'd soundly as well as ingeniously upon the subject,  very much to her instruction  satisfaction. My Papa inform'd me in his last letter that he had done me the honor to read my journals  that he approv'd of some part of them, I suppose he means that he likes some parts better than other, indeed it would be wonderful, as aunt says, if a gentleman of papa's understanding  judgment cou'd be highly entertain'd with every little saying or observation that came from a girl of my years  that I ought to esteem it a great favour that he notices any of my simple matter with his approbation. April 13th.Yesterday I walk'd to meeting all day, the ground very dry,  when I came home from meeting in the afternoon the Dust blew so that it almost put my eyes out. What a difference in the space of a week. I was just going out to writing school, but a slight rain prevented so aunt says I must make up by writing well at home. Since I have been writing the rain is turn'd to snow, which is now falling in a thick shower. I have now before me, hond. Mamma, your favor dated January 3. I am glad you alter'd your mind when you at first thought not to write to me. I am glad my brother made an essay for a Post Script to your Letter. I must get him to read it to me, when he comes up, for two reasons, the one is because I may have the pleasure of hearing his voice, the other because I don't understand his characters. I observe that he is mamma's \"Ducky Darling.\" I never again shall believe that Mrs Huston will come up to Boston till I see her here. I shall be very glad to see Mrs Law here  I have some hopes of it. Mr Gannett and the things you sent by him we safely receiv'd before I got your Letteryou say \"you see I am still a great housekeeper,\" I think more so than when I was with you. Truly I answer'd Mr Law's letter as soon as I found opportunity therefor. I shall be very glad to see Miss Jenny here  I wish she could live with me. I hope you will answer this \"viva vosa\" as you say you intend to. Pray mamma who larnt you lattan? It now rains fast, but the sun shines,  I am glad to see it, because if it continues I am going abroad with aunt this afternoon. April 14th.I went a visiting yesterday to Col. Gridley's with my aunt. After tea Miss Becky Gridley sung a minuet. Miss Polly Deming  I danced to her musick, which when perform'd was approv'd of by Mrs Gridley, Mrs Deming, Mrs Thompson, Mrs Avery,61 Miss Sally Hill, Miss Becky Gridley, Miss Polly Gridley  Miss Sally Winslow. Coln Gridley was out o' the room. Coln brought in the talk of Whigs  Tories  taught me the difference between them. I spent last evening at home. I should have gone a visiting to day in sudbury street, but Unkle Harry told me last night that they would be full of company. I had the pleasure of hearing by him, that they were all well. I believe I shall go somewhere this afternoon for I have acquaintances enough that would be very glad to see me, as well as my sudbury street friends. April 15th.Yesterday I din'd at Mrs. Whitwell's  she being going abroad, I spent the afternoon at Madm Harris's  the evening at home, Unkle Harry gave us his company some part of it. I am going to Aunt Storer's as soon as writing school is done. I shall dine with her, if she is not engaged. It is a long time since I was there,  indeed it is a long time since I have been able to get there. For tho' the walking has been pretty tolerable at the South End, it has been intolerable down in town. And indeed till yesterday, it has been such bad walking, that I could not get there on my feet. If she had wanted much to have seen me, she might have sent either one of her chaises, her chariot, or her babyhutt,62 one of which I see going by the door almost every day. April 16th.I dined with Aunt Storer yesterday  spent the afternoon very agreeably at Aunt Suky's. Aunt Storer is not very well, but she drank tea with us,  went down to Mr Stillman's lecture in the evening. I spent the evening with Unkle  Aunt at Mrs Rogers's. Mr Bacon preach'd his fourth sermon from Romans iv. 6. My cousin Charles Storer lent me Gulliver's Travels abreviated, which aunt says I may read for the sake of perfecting myself in reading a variety of composures. she sais farther that the piece was desin'd as a burlesque upon the times in which it was wrote, Martimas Scriblensis  Pope Dunciad were wrote with the same design  as parts of the same work, tho' wrote by three several hands. April 17th.You see, Mamma, I comply with your orders (or at least have done father's some time past) of writing in my journal every day tho' my matters are of little importance  I have nothing at present to communicate except that I spent yesterday afternoon  evening at Mr Soley's. The day was very rainy. I hope I shall at least learn to spell the word yesterday, it having occur'd so frequently in these pages! (The bell is ringing for good friday.) Last evening aunt had a letter from Unkle Pierce, he informs her, that last Lords day morning Mrs Martin was deliver'd of a daughter. She had been siezed the Monday before with a violent pluritick fever, which continued when my Unkle's letter was dated 13th instant. My Aunt Deming is affraid that poor Mrs Martin is no more. She hopes she is reconcil'd to her fatherbut is affraid whether that was soShe had try'd what was to be done that way on her late visits to Portsmouth,  found my unkle was placably dispos'd, poor Mrs Martin, she could not then be brought to make any acknowledgements as she ought to have done. April 18th.Some time since I exchang'd a piece of patchwork, which had been wrought in my leisure intervals, with Miss Peggy Phillips,63 my schoolmate, for a pair of curious lace mitts with blue flaps which I shall send, with a yard of white ribbin edg'd with green to Miss Nancy Macky for a present. I had intended that the patchwork should have grown large enough to have cover'd a bed when that same live stock which you wrote me about some time since, should be increas'd to that portion you intend to bestow upon me, should a certain event take place. I have just now finish'd my Letter to Papa. I had wrote to my other correspondents at Cumberland, some time ago, all which with this I wish safe to your  their hand. I have been carefull not to repeat in my journal any thing that I had wrote in a Letter either to papa, you, c. Else I should have inform'd you of some of Bet Smith's abominations with the deserv'd punishment she is soon to meet with. But I have wrote it to papa, so need not repeat. I guess when this reaches you, you will be too much engag'd in preparing to quit your present habitation,  will have too much upon your head  hands, to pay much attention to this scrowl. But it may be an amusement to you on your voyagetherefore I send it. Pray mamma, be so kind as to bring up all my journal with you. My Papa has promised me, he will bring up my baby house with him. I shall send you a droll figure of a young lady,64 in or under, which you please, a tasty head Dress. It was taken from a print that came over in one of the last ships from London. After you have sufficiently amused yourself with it I am willing . . . Boston April 20, 1772.Last Saterday I seal'd up 45 pages of Journal for Cumberland. This is a very stormy dayno going to school. I am learning to knit lace. April 21.Visited at uncle Joshua Green's. I saw three funerals from their window, poor Capn Turner's was one. April 22d.I spent this evening at Miss Rogers as usual. Mr. Hunt continued his discourse upon the 7th question of the catechism  finish'd what he had to say upon it. April 23d.This morng early our Mr Bacon set out upon a tour to Maryland, he proposed to be absent 8 weeks. He told the Church that brother Hunt would supply the pulpit till his return. I made a visit this afternoon with cousin Sally at Dr. Phillip's. April 24th.I drank tea at Aunt Suky's. Aunt Storer was there, she seemed to be in charming good health  spirits. My cousin Charles Green seems to grow a little fat pritty boy but he is very light. My aunt Storer lent me 3 of cousin Charles' books to read, viz.The puzzeling cap, the female Oraters  the history of Gaffer tooshoes.65 April 25th.I learn't three stitches upon net work today. April 27th.I din'd at Aunt Storer's  spent the P.M. at aunt Suky's. April 28th.This P.M. I am visited by Miss Glover, Miss Draper  Miss Soley. My aunt abroad. April 29th.Tomorrow, if the weather be good, I am to set out for Marshfield. Illustration: MRS. EBENEZER STORER May 11.The morning after I wrote above, I sat out for Marshfield. I had the pleasure of drinking tea with aunt Thomas the same day, the family all well, but Mr G who seems to be near the end of the journey of life. I visited General Winslow66  his son, the Dr., spent 8 days very agreeably with my friends at Marshfield,  returned on saterday last in good health  gay spirits which I still enjoy. The 2 first days I was at Marshfield, the heat was extream  uncommon for the season. It ended on saterday evening with a great thunder storm. The air has been very cool ever since. My aunt Deming observ'd a great deal of lightning in the south, but there was neither thunder, rain nor clouds in Boston. May 16.Last Wednesday Bet Smith was set upon the gallows. She behav'd with great impudence. Thursday I danc'd a minuet  country dances at school, after which I drank tea with aunt Storer. To day I am somewhat out of sorts, a little sick at my stomach. 23d.I followed my schools every day this week, thursday I din'd at aunt Storer's  spent the P.M. there. 25.I was not at meeting yesterday, Unkle  Aunt say they had very good Fish at the O.S. I have got very sore eyes. June 1st.All last week till saterday was very cold  rainy. Aunt Deming kept me within doors, there were no schools on account of the Election of Councellers,67  other public doings; with one eye (for t'other was bound up) I saw the governer  his train of life guard c. ride by in state to Cambridge. I form'd Letters last week to suit cousin Sally  aunt Thomas, but my eyes were so bad aunt would not let me coppy but one of them. Monday being Artillery Election68 I went to see the hall, din'd at aunt Storer's, took a walk in the P.M. Unkle laid down the commission he took up last year. Mr Handcock invited the whole company into his house in the afternoon  treated them very genteelly  generously, with cake, wine, c. There were 10 corn baskets of the feast (at the Hall) sent to the prison  almshouse. 4th.From June 1 when I wrote last there has nothing extraordinary happen'd till today the whole regiment muster'd upon the common. Mr Gannett, aunt  myself went up into the common,  there saw Capt Water's, Capt Paddock's, Capt Peirce's, Capt Eliot's, Capt Barret's, Capt Gay's, Capt May's, Capt Borington's  Capt Stimpson's company's exercise. From there, we went into King street to Col Marshal's69 where we saw all of them prettily exercise  fire. Mr. Gannett din'd with us. On Sabbathday evening 7 June My Hond Papa, Mamma, little Brother, cousin H. D. Thomas, Miss Jenny Allen,  Mrs Huston arriv'd here from Cumberland, all in good health, to the great joy of all their friends, myself in particularthey sail'd from Cumberland the 1st instant, in the evening. Aug. 18.Many avocations have prevented my keeping my journal so exactly as heretofore, by which means a pleasant visit to the peacock, my Papa's  mamma's journey to Marshfield c. have been omitted. The 6 instant Mr Saml Jarvis was married to Miss Suky Peirce,  on the 13th I made her a visit in company with mamma  many others. The bride was dress'd in a white satin night gound.70 27.Yesterday I heard an account of a cat of 17 years old, that has just recovered of the meazels. This same cat it is said had the small pox 8 years ago! 28.I spent the P.M.  eve at aunt Suky's very agreeably with aunt Pierce's young ladies viz. Miss Johnson, Miss Walker, Miss Polly  Miss Betsey Warton, (of Newport) Miss Betsey is just a fortnight wanting 1 day older than I am, who I became acquainted with that P.M. Papa, Mamma, Unkle  aunt Storer, Aunt Pierce  Mr  Mrs Jarvis was there. There were 18 at supper besides a great many did not eat any. Mrs Jarvis sang after supper. My brother Johny has got over the measels. Sept. 1.Last evening after meeting, Mrs Bacon was brought to bed of a fine daughter. But was very ill. She had fits. September 7.Yesterday afternoon Mr Bacon baptiz'd his daughter by the name of Elizabeth Lewis. It is a pretty looking child. Mrs Whitwell is like to loose her Henry Harris. He is very ill. 8.I visited with mamma at cousin Rogers'. There was a good many. 14.Very busy all day, went into the common in the afternoon to see training. It was very prettyly perform'd. 18.My Papa, aunt Deming, cousin Rogers,  Miss Betsey Gould set out for Portsmouth. I went over to Charlestown with them, after they were gone, I came back,  rode up from the ferry in Mrs Rogers' chaise; it drop'd me at Unkle Storer's gate, where I spent the day. My brother was very sick. Sepr 17. 18.Spent the days at aunt Storer's, the nights at home. 19.Went down in the morng  spent the day  night there. My brother better than he was. 20.Sabbath day. I went to hear Mr Stilman71 all day, I like him very much. I don't wonder so many go to hear him. 21st.Mr. Sawyer, Mr Parks,  Mrs Chatbourn, din'd at aunt Storer's. I went to dancing in the afternoon. Miss Winslow  Miss Allen visited there. 22d.The king's coronation day. In the evening I went with mamma to Coln Marshal's in King Street to see the fireworks. 23d.I din'd at aunt Suky's with Mr  Mrs Hooper72 of Marblehead. In the afternoon I went over to see Miss Betsy Winslow. When I came back I had the pleasure to meet papa. I came home in the evening to see aunt Deming. Unkle Winslow sup'd here. 24.Papa cal'd here in the morng. Nothing else worth noticeing. 25.Very pleasant. Unkle Ned cal'd here. Little Henry Harris was buried this afternoon. 26. 27.Nothing extraordinary yesterday  to day. 28.My papa  unkle Winslow spent the evening here. 29. 30.Very stormy. Miss Winslow  I read out the Generous Inconstant,  have begun Sir Charles Grandison. . . . May 25.Nothing remarkable since the preceding date. Whenever I have omited a school my aunt has directed me to sit it down here, so when you dont see a memorandum of that kind, you may conclude that I have paid my compliments to messrs Holbrook  Turner (to the former you see to very little purpose)  mrs Smith as usual. The Miss Waldow's I mentioned in a former are Mr. Danl Waldo's daughters (very pretty misses) their mamma was Miss Becca Salisbury.73 After making a short visit with my Aunt at Mrs Green's, over the way, yesterday towards evening, I took a walk with cousin Sally to see the good folks in Sudbury Street,  found them all well. I had my HEDDUS roll on, aunt Storer said it ought to be made less, Aunt Deming said it ought not to be made at all. It makes my head itch,  ach,  burn like anything Mamma. This famous roll is not made wholly of a red Cow Tail, but is a mixture of that,  horsehair (very course)  a little human hair of yellow hue, that I suppose was taken out of the back part of an old wig. But D made it (our head) all carded together and twisted up. When it first came home, aunt put it on,  my new cap on it, she then took up her apron  mesur'd me,  from the roots of my hair on my forehead to the top of my notions, I mesur'd above an inch longer than I did downwards from the roots of my hair to the end of my chin. Nothing renders a young person more amiable than virtue  modesty without the help of fals hair, red Cow tail, or D (the barber).74 Now all this mamma, I have just been reading over to my aunt. She is pleas'd with my whimsical description  grave (half grave) improvement,  hopes a little fals English will not spoil the whole with Mamma. Rome was not built in a day. 31st May.Monday last I was at the factory to see a piece of cloth cousin Sally spun for a summer coat for unkle. After viewing the work we recollected the room we sat down in was Libberty Assembly Hall, otherwise called factory hall, so Miss Gridley  I did ourselves the Honour of dancing a minuet in it. On tuesday I made Mrs Smith my morning  p.m. visits as usual, neither Mr. Holbrook nor Turner have any school this week, nor till tuesday next. I spent yesterday with my friends in sudbury St. Cousin Frank has got a fever, aunt Storer took an emmetick while I was there, cousin Betsy had violent pains almost all the forenoon. Last tuesday Miss Ursula Griswold, daughter of the right Hon. Matthew Griswold Esq governer of one of his Majesty's provinces, was made one of our family,  I have the honor of being her chambermade. I have just been reading over what I wrote to the company present,  have got myself laughed at for my ignorance. It seems I should have said the daughter of the Hon Lieut. Governor of Connecticutt. Mrs Dixon lodg'd at Capn Mitchell's. She is gone to Connecticutt long since. 31 May.I spent the afternoon at unkle Joshua's. yesterday, after tea I went to see how aunt Storer did. I found her well at Unkle Frank's. Mr Gerrish  wife of Halifax I had the pleasure to meet there, the latter sends love to you. Indeed Mamma, till I receiv'd your last favour, I never heard a word about the little basket c. which I sent to brother Johny last fall. I suppose Harry had so much to write about cotton, that he forgot what was of more consequence. Dear Mamma, what name has Mr Bent given his Son? something like Nehemiah, or Jehoshaphat, I suppose, it must be an odd name (our head indeed, Mamma.) Aunt says she hopes it a'nt Baal Gad,  she also says that I am a little simpleton for making my note within the brackets above, because, when I omit to do it, Mamma will think I have the help of somebody else's head but, N.B. for herself she utterly disclames having either her head or hand concern'd in this curious journal, except where the writing makes it manifest. So much for this matter. Illustration: CUTPAPER PICTURE NOTES. NOTE 1. Aunt Deming was Sarah, the oldest child of John Winslow and Sarah Peirce, and therefore sister of Joshua Winslow, Anna Green Winslow's father. She was born August 2, 1722, died March 10, 1788. She married John West, and after his death married, on February 27, 1752, John Deming. He was a respectable and intelligent Boston citizen, but not a wealthy man. He was an ensign in the Ancient and Honorable Artillery in 1771, and a deacon of the Old South Church in 1769, both of which offices were patents of nobility in provincial Boston. They lived in Central Court, leading out of Washington Street, just south of Summer Street. Aunt Deming eked out a limited income in a manner dear to Boston gentlewomen in those and in later days; she took young ladies to board while they attended Boston schools. Advertisements in colonial newspapers of \"Board and halfboard for young ladies\" were not rare, and many good old New England names are seen in these advertisements. Aunt Deming was a woman of much judgment, as is shown in the pages of this diary; of much power of graphic description, as is proved by a short journal written for her niece, Sally Coverly, and letters of hers which are still preserved. She died childless. NOTE 2. Cumberland was the home in Nova Scotia of Anna Green Winslow's parents, where her father held the position of commissary to the British regiments stationed there. George Green, Anna's uncle, writing to Joseph Green, at Paramaribo, on July 23, 1770, said: \"Mr. Winslow  wife still remain at Cumberland, have one son  one daughter, the last now at Boston for schooling, c.\" So, at the date of the first entry in the diary, Anna had been in Boston probably about a year and a half. NOTE 3. Anna Green Winslow had doubtless heard much talk about this Rev. John Bacon, the new minister at the Old South Church, for much had been said about him in the weekly press: whether he should have an ordination dinner or not, and he did not; accounts of his ordination; and then notice of the sale of his sermons in the Boston Gazette. All Mr. Bacon's parishioners did not share Anna's liking for him; he found himself at the Old South in sorely troubled waters. He made a most unpropitious and trying entrance at best, through succeeding the beloved Joseph Sewall, who had preached to Old South listeners for fiftysix years. He came to town a stranger. When, a month later, Governor Hutchinson issued his annual Thanksgiving Proclamation, there was placed therein an \"exceptionable clause\" that was very offensive to Boston patriots, relating to the continuance of civil and religious liberties. It had always been the custom to have the Proclamation read by the ministers in the Boston churches for the two Sundays previous to Thanksgiving Day, but the ruling governor very cannily managed to get two Boston clergymen to read his proclamation the third Sunday before the appointed day, when all the church members, being unsuspectingly present, had to listen to the unwelcome words. One of these clerical instruments of gubernatorial diplomacy and craft was John Bacon. Samuel Adams wrote bitterly of him, saying, \"He performed this servile task a week before the time, when the people were not aware of it.\" The Boston Gazette of November 11 commented severely on Mr. Bacon's action, and many of his congregation were disgusted with him, and remained after the service to talk the Proclamation and their unfortunate new minister over. It might have been offered, one might think, as some excuse, that he had so recently come from Maryland, and was probably unacquainted with the intenseness of Massachusetts politics; and that he had also been a somewhat busy and preoccupied man during his six weeks' presence in Boston, for he had been marrying a wife,or rather a widow. In the Boston Evening Post of November 11, 1771, I read this notice: \"Married, the Rev'd John Bacon to Mrs. Elizabeth Cummings, daughter of Ezekiel Goldthwait, Esq.\" He retained his pastorate, however, in spite of his early mistake, through anxious teaparty excitement and forlorn warthreatened days, till 1775, with but scant popularity and slight happiness, with bitter differences of opinion with his people over atonement and imputation, and that everpresent stumblingblock to New England divines,baptism under the Half Covenant,till he was asked to resign. Nor did he get on over smoothly with his fellow minister, John Hunt. In a curious poem of the day, called \"Boston Ministers\" (which is reprinted in the New England Historical and Genealogical Register of April, 1859), these verses appear: At Old South there's a jarring pair, If I am not mistaken, One may descry with half an eye That Hunt is far from Bacon. Wise Hunt can trace out means of grace As leading to conversion, But Hopkins scheme is Bacons theme, And strange is his assertion. It mattered little, however, that Parson Bacon had to leave the Old South, for that was soon no longer a church, but a riding school for the British troops. Mr. Bacon retired, after his dismissal, to Canterbury, Conn., his birthplace. His friendly intimacy with Mrs. Deming proved of value to her, for when she left Boston, in April, 1775, at the time of the closing of the city gates, she met Mr. Bacon in Providence. She says in her journal: \"Towards evening Mr  Mrs Bacon, with their daughter, came into town. Mr Bacon came to see me. Enquir'd into my designs, c. I told him truely I did not know what to do. That I had thot of giting farther into the country. Of trying to place Sally in some family where she might earn her board,  to do something like it for Lucinda, or put her out upon wages. That when I left the plain I had some faint hope I might hear from Mr Deming while I continued at Providence, but that I had little of that hope remaining. Mr Bacon advised me to go into Connecticutt, the very thing I was desirous of. Mr Bacon sd that he would advise me for the present to go to Canterbury, his native place. That he would give me a Letter to his Sister, who would receive me kindly  treat me tenderly,  that he would follow me there in a few days.\" This advice Mrs. Deming took, and made Canterbury her temporary home. Mr. Bacon did not again take charge of a parish. After the Revolution he became a magistrate, went to the legislature, became judge of the court of common pleas, and a member of congress. He did not wholly give up his disputatious ways, if we can judge from the books written by and to him, one of the latter being, \"A Droll, a Deist, and a John Bacon, Master of Arts, Gently Reprimanded.\" His wife, who was born in 1733, and died in Stockbridge in 1821, was the daughter of Ezekiel Goldthwait, a Tory citizen of Boston, a register of deeds, and a wealthy merchant. A portrait of Mrs. Bacon, painted by Copley, is remarkable for its brilliant eyes and beautiful hands and arms. NOTE 4. Rev. John Hunt was born in Northampton, November 20, 1744. He was a Harvard graduate in the class of 1764, a classmate of Caleb Strong and John Scollay. He was installed colleaguepastor of the Old South Church with John Bacon in 1771. He found it a most trying position. He was of an amiable and gentle disposition, and the poem on \"Boston Ministers\" asserted that he \"most friends with sisters made.\" Another Boston rhymester called him \"puny John from Northampton, a meekmouth moderate man.\" When the gates of Boston were closed in 1775, after the battle of Lexington, he returned to Northampton, and died there of consumption, December 20, 1775. A full account of his life is given in Sprague's Annals of the American Pulpit. See also Note 3. NOTE 5. \"Unkle and Aunt Winslow\" were Mr. and Mrs. John Winslow. He was the brother of Joshua Winslow, was born March, 172526, died September 29, 1773, in Boston. He was married, on March 12, 1752, to Elizabeth Mason (born September, 1723, died January, 1780). They had five children: I. Gen. John Winslow, born September 26, 1753, married Ann Gardner, May 21, 1782, died November 29, 1819. II. Sarah, born April 12, 1755, married Deacon Samuel Coverly, of Boston, on November 27, 1787, died April 3, 1804. See Note 13. III. Henry, born January 11, 1757, died October 13, 1766. IV. Elizabeth, born November 28, 1759, died September 8, 1760. V. Elizabeth, born September 14, 1760, married John Holland, died November 21, 1795. Gen. John Winslow was the favorite nephew of Joshua Winslow and of his wife, and largely inherited their property. He remained in Boston through the siege, and preserved the communion plate of the Old South Church by burying it in his uncle Mason's cellar. He was an ardent patriot, and it is said that his uncle Joshua threatened to hang him if he caught him during the Revolutionary War. The nephew answered, \"No catcheeno hangee, Uncle;\" but did have the contrary fortune of capturing the uncle, whom he released on parole. He was the sixth signer and first treasurer of the Society of the Cincinnati. General Winslow's daughter, Mary Ann Winslow, born in 1790, lived till 1882, and from her were obtained many of the facts given in these notes. NOTE 6. Miss Soley was Hannah Soley, daughter of John Soley and Hannah Carey, who were married October 11, 1759. Hannah Soley was born June 5, 1762, and married W. G. McCarty. NOTE 7. William and Samuel Whitwell and their families were members of the Old South Church, and all were friends of the Winslows and Demings. William Whitwell was born September 3, 1714, died April 10, 1795. He was a prosperous merchant, an estimable and useful citizen, and church member. His first wife was Rebecca Keayne, his second Elizabeth Scott (or Swett), who died May 13, 1771; his third, the widow of Royal Tyler. The Mrs. Whitwell here referred to must have been Mrs. Samuel Whitwell, for William Whitwell just at that interval was a widower. Samuel Whitwell was born December 17, O.S. 1717, died June 8, 1801. His first wife was Elizabeth Kelsey; his second, Sarah Wood; his third, Mary Smith. NOTE 8. Polly Deming was a niece of John Deming. NOTE 9. Miss Polly Glover was Mary Glover, born in Boston, October 12, 1758, baptized at the Old South Church, married to Deacon James Morrell, of the Old South, on April 23, 1778, and died April 3, 1842. She was the daughter of Nathaniel Glover (who was born May 16, 1704, in Dorchester; died December, 1773), and his wife, Anne Simpson. They were married in 1750. Nathaniel Glover was a graduate of Harvard, and a wealthy man; partner first of Thomas Hancock, and then of John Hancock. NOTE 10. Miss Bessy Winslow was Elizabeth, Anna's cousin, who was then about ten years old. See Note 5. NOTE 11. Miss Nancy or Anne Glover was Mary Glover's sister. See Note 9. She was born in Boston, March 28, 1753, baptized in the Old South Church, died in Roxbury, August, 1797. She married Samuel Whitwell, Jr., son of Samuel Whitwell, a prominent Boston merchant. See Note 7. NOTE 12. Miss Sally Winslow was Sarah, daughter of John Winslow (see Note 5), and was, therefore, Anna's cousin. She was born April 12, 1755, died April 3, 1804. She married, November 27, 1787, Samuel Coverly, deacon of the Old South Church. She was the Sally Coverly for whom Mrs. Deming's journal was written. Several of Sally Coverly's letters still exist, and are models of elegant penmanship and correct spelling, and redound to the credit of her writing teacher, Master Holbrook. All the d's and y's and t's end with elaborately twisted little curls. A careful margin of an inch is left on every side. The letters speak so plainly of the formal honor and respect paid by all wellbred persons of the day to their elders, even though familiar kinsfolk, that I quote one, which contains much family news: BOSTON, Feb. 17th, 1780. I thank you my dear Aunt for your kind Epistles of April 9th  Nov'r 10th, the kind interestedness you yet continue to take in my concerns merits the warmest returns of Gratitude. The Particular circumstances you wish to know I shall with pleasure inform you ofMr. Coverly is the youngest son of a Worthy Citizen late of this town but his Parents are now no more. His age is thirtyfive. His Occupation a Shopkeeper who imports his own goods. And if you should wish to know who of your acquaintance he resembles, Madam, I would answer He has been taken for our Minister Mr Eckley, by whom we were married in my Aunt Demings sick chamber the 27th of Nov'r last twelve months since. He has two Brothers who both reside in town. I have been remarkably favor'd the last year as to my health  we are blest likewise with a fine little Daughter between 4  5 months old, very healthy, which we have named Elizabeth for its Grandmamas and an Aunt of each side. My Brother call'd today  inform'd me that Mr Powell intended setting out tomorrow for Quebeck  left a Letter for you which I shall send with this. He is almost if not quite as big as my uncle was last time I saw himhe was well  his family, he has three sons, the youngest about eleven months old, he has buried one. In your last you mention both my Uncle  yourself as not enjoying so great a share of health. I hope by this time you have each regain'd that blessing more perfectly. Be pleased with him My Dear Aunt to accept My Duty in which Mr Coverly joins me. My Sister was very well last week  her son John who is a fine child about 3 months old. Capt. Holland has purchas'd a house near fort hill which has remov'd her to a greater distance from me. She is now gone to the Westindies, she is connected in a family that are all very fond of her. We expect soon to remove. Mr Coverly has taken a lease of a house for some years belonging to Mr John Amory, you will please to direct your next for us in Cornhill No 10, I shall have the pleasure of your friend Mrs Whitwell for my next neighbor there. I had not the pleasure of seeing Mr Freeman whiles here altho' I expected it, as his brother promis'd to wait on him here. In one of your kind Epistles, Madam, you mention'd some of your Movables which you would wish me to take possession of which were at my Uncle Demings. The Memorandum you did not send me  my Uncle Deming has none nor knows of any thing but a great wheel. He is now maried to the Widow Sebry who is very much lik'd and appears to be a Gentlewoman, they were very well today. My Aunt Mason was to see me a few weeks since with Mrs Coburn Mrs Scolly  Miss Becky Scolly from Middleborough. Mrs Scolly has since married her youngest daughter to Mr Prentice, Minister of Medfield. Please to give my Love to Cousin Sally Deming if she is yet with you I hope she has regain'd her usual health. I should be very glad to be inform'd how her Mamma is  where  her family. Be pleased to continue your Indulgence, as your Epistles My Dear Aunt will at all times be most gratefully receiv'd by Yr Oblidg'd Niece Sarah Coverly. NOTE 13. Josiah Waters, Jr., was the son of Josiah and Abigail Dawes Waters. The latter lived to be ninetyfive years old. Josiah Sr. was a captain in the Artillery Company in 1769, and Josiah Jr. in 1791. The latter married, on March 14, 1771, Mary, daughter of William and Elizabeth Whitwell. See Note 7. Their child, Josiah Waters, tertius, born December 29, 1771, lived till August 4, 1818. He was a Latin School boy, and in the class with Josiah Quincy at Harvard. NOTE 14. The life of this slavegirl Lucinda was a fair example of the gentle form of slavery which existed till this century in our New England States. From an old paper written by a daughter of Gen. John Winslow, I quote her description of this girl: \"Lucinda was born in Africa and purchased by Mrs Deming when she was about seven years of age. She was cherished with care and affection by the family, and at Mrs. Demings death was 'given her freedom.' From that time she chose to make her home with 'Master John' (the late Gen. John Winslow, of Boston), a nephew of Mrs Demingsat his house she died after some years. The friends of the Winslow family attended her funeral; her pastor the Rev Dr Eckley of the Old South and Gen. W. walking next the hearse as chief mourners. A few articles belonging to her are preserved in the family as memorials of one who was a beloved member of the household in the olden time.\" Lucinda figures in Mrs. Deming's account of her escape from besieged Boston in 1775, and was treated with as much consideration as was Sally, the niece; for her mistress remained behind for a time at Wrentham; rather than to allow Lucinda to ride outside the coach in the rain. In a letter written by Sally Coverly, August 6, 1795, to Mrs. Joshua Winslow, at Quebec, she says: \"You enquire about Lucinda, she is very much gratified by it. She has lived with my Brother this ten years and is very good help in their family.\" NOTE 15. The \"Miss Sheafs\" were Nancy and Mary Sheaffe, youngest daughters of William Sheaffe, who had recently died, leaving a family of four sons and six daughters. He had been deputy collector of customs under Joseph Harrison, the last royal collector of the port. He left his family penniless, and a small shop was stocked by friends for Mrs Sheaffe. I have often seen her advertisements in Boston newspapers. Mrs. Sheaffe was Susanna Child, daughter of Thomas Child, an Englishman, one of the founders of Trinity Church. She lived till 1811. The ten children grew up to fill dignified positions in life. One son was Sir Roger Hale Sheaffe. Susanna, at the age of fifteen, made a most romantic runaway match with an English officer, Capt. Ponsonby Molesworth. Margaret married John R. Livingstone; she was a great beauty. Lafayette, on his return to France, sent her a satin cardinal lined with ermine, and an elegant gown. Helen married James Lovell. (See Note 52.) Nancy, or Anne Sheaffe, married, in September, 1786, John Erving, Jr., a nephew of Governor Shirley, and died young, leaving three children,Maria, Frances, and Major John Erving. Mary married Benj. Cutler, high sheriff of Boston, and died December 8, 1784, leaving no children. These Sheaffes were nearly all buried in the Child tomb in Trinity Church. NOTE 16. Governor Matthew Griswold was born March 25, 1714, died April 28, 1799. He married, on Nov. 10, 1743, his second cousin, Ursula Wolcott, daughter of Gov. Roger Wolcott. A very amusing story is told of their courtship. Governor Griswold in early life wished to marry a young lady in Durham, Conn. She was in love with a physician, whom she hoped would propose to her, and in the mean time was unwilling to give up her hold upon her assured lover. At last the governor, tired of being held in an uncertainty, pressed her for a definite answer. She pleaded that she wished for more time, when he rose with dignity and answered her, \"I will give you a lifetime.\" This experience made him extremely shy, and when thrown with his cousin Ursula he made no advance towards lovemaking. At last when she was nineteen and he ten years older she began asking him on every occasion, \"What did you say, Cousin Matthew?\" and he would answer her quietly, \"Nothing.\" At last she asked him impatiently, \"What did you say, Cousin Matthew?\" and when he answered again \"Nothing,\" she replied sharply, \"Well, it's time you did,\"and he did. Their daughter Ursula, the visitor at Mrs. Deming's, was born April 13, 1754, and was a great beauty. She married, in November 22, 1777, her third cousin, Lynde McCurdy, of Norwich, Conn. NOTE 17. \"Unkle Joshua\" was Joshua Green, born in Boston, May 17, 1731, \"Monday 12 past 9 oclock in the morng\" and died in Wendell, Mass., on September 2, 1811. He attended the Boston Latin School in 1738, and was in the class of 1749 at Harvard. He married, as did his brother and sister, a StorerHannah, daughter of Ebenezer and Mary Edwards Storeron October 7, 1762. After his marriage he lived in Court Street, the third house south of Hanover Street. His wife Hannah was for many years before and after her marriageas was her motherthe intimate friend and correspondent of Abigail Adams, wife of John Adams. Some of their letters may be found in the Account of Percival and Ellen Green and Some of their Descendants, written by Hon. Samuel Abbott Green, who is a greatgrandson of Joshua and Hannah Green. NOTE 18. Madam Storer was Mary Edwards Storer, the widow of Ebenezer Storer, a Boston merchant. She was the mother of Anna's uncle Ebenezer Storer, of her aunt Hannah Storer Green, and of her aunt Mary Storer Green. See Notes 19, 32, 59. NOTE 19. Miss Caty Vans was the granddaughter of Hugh Vans, a merchant of Boston, who became a member of the Old South Church in 1728. He was born in Ayr, Scotland, in 1699. He married Mary Pemberton, daughter of Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton, and died in Boston in 1763. They had four sons, John, Ebenezer, Samuel, and William. One of the first three was the father of Caty Vans, who was born January 18, 1770. There are frequent references to her throughout the diary, but I know nothing of her life. William Vans married Mary Clarke, of Salem, and had one son, William, and one daughter, Rebecca, who married Captain Jonathan Carnes. The Vans family Bible is in the library of the Essex Institute. NOTE 20. In the cordial hatred of the Puritans for Christmas Anna heartily joined. It was not till this century that in New England cheerful merriment and the universal exchange of gifts marked the day as a real holiday. NOTE 21. \"Aunt Sukey\" was Susanna Green, born July 26, 1744, died November 10, 1775. She married, on October 18, 1769, her cousin, Francis Green. The little child Charles, of whom Anna writes, proved to be a deafmute, and was drowned near Halifax in 1787. Francis Green had two deafmute children by a second wife, and became prominent afterwards in Massachusetts for his interest in and promotion of methods in instructing the deaf. In a letter of George Green's, dated Boston, July 23, 1770, we read: \"Frank Green was married to Sukey in October last and they live next house to Mrs Storers.\" From another, dated December 5, 1770: \"Frank keeps a ship going between here  London, but I believe understands little of the matter, having never been bred to business wch was one great objection with my father to his courting Sukey.\" I think he must have developed into a capable business man, for I have frequently seen his business advertisements in Boston newspapers of his day. Anna's mother bequeathed seven hundred and fifty dollars to Francis Green in her will. He was a man universally esteemed in the community. NOTE 22. Dr. Samuel Cooper was born March 28, 1725; died December 29, 1783. He graduated at Harvard in 1743, and became pastor of the Brattle Street Congregational Church, of Boston. He was a brilliant preacher, an ardent patriot, the intimate friend of John Adams and Benjamin Franklin, and a very handsome man. NOTE 23. Master Holbrook was Samuel Holbrook, Anna's writingmaster, one of a highly honored family of Boston writing teachers. Perhaps the best known of this family was Abiah Holbrook. In the Boston Gazette of January 30, 1769, I find this notice: \"Last Friday morning died Mr Abiah Holbrook in the 51st year of his Age, Master of the South Writing School in this Town. He was looked upon by the Best Judges as the Greatest Master of the Pen we have ever had among us, of which he has left a most beautiful Demonstration. He was indefatigable in his labours, successful in his Instructions, an Honour to the Town and to crown all an Ornament to the Religion of Jesus. His Funeral is to be Attended Tomorrow Afternoon at Four Oclock.\" The \"beautiful Demonstration\" of his penmanship which he left behind him was a most intricate piece of what was known as \"fine knotting\" or \"knot work.\" It was written in \"all the known hands of Great Britain.\" This work occupied every moment of what Abiah Holbrook called his \"spare time\" for seven years. It was valued at 100. It was bequeathed to Harvard College, unless his wife should need the money which could be obtained from selling it. If this were so, she was to offer it first for purchase to John Hancock. Abiah was a stanch patriot. Samuel Holbrook was a brother of Abiah. He began teaching in 1745, when about eighteen years old. A petition of Abiah, dated March 10, 174546, sets forth that his school had two hundred and twenty scholars (Well may his funeral notice say that he was indefatigable in his labors!), that finding it impossible to properly instruct such a great number, he had appointed his brother to teach part of them and had paid his board for seven months, else some of the scholars must have been turned off without any instruction. He therefore prayed the town to grant him assistance. Think of one master for such a great school! In 1750 Samuel Holbrook's salary as usher of the South Writing School was fifty pounds per annum. After serving as writingmaster of the school in Queen Street, and also keeping a private school, he was chosen master of the South Writing School in March, 1769, to supply the place of his brother Abiah deceased. His salary was one hundred pounds. In 1776, and again in 1777, he received eighty pounds in addition to his salary. He also was a patriot. He was one of the \"Sons of Liberty\" who dined at the Liberty Tree, Dorchester, on August 14, 1769; and he was a member of Captain John Haskin's company in 1773. He was a member of the Old South Church, and he died July 24, 1784. In his later years he kept a school at West Street, where afterwards was Amos Lawrence's garden. Abiah and Samuel left behind them better demonstrations of their capacity than pieces of \"knotwork\"in the handwriting of their scholars. They taught what Jonathan Snelling described as \"Boston Style of Writing,\" and loudly do the elegant letters and signatures of their scholars, Boston patriots, clergy, and statesmen, redound to the credit of the Masters Holbrook. Other Holbrooks taught in Boston. From the Selectmen's Minutes of that little town, we find that on November 10, 1773, \"Mr Holbrook, Master of the Writing School in the Common, and Mr Carter the Master Elect of the school in Queen St having recommended Mr Abiah Holbrook, a young man near of age, as a suitable person to be usher at Mr Carters schoolthe Selectmen sent for him, and upon discoursing with the young man thought proper to appoint him usher of said school.\" And from the Boston Gazette, of April 17, 1769, we learn that Mr. Joseph Ward \"Opened an English Grammar School in King St where Mr Joseph Holbrook hath for many years kept a Writing School.\" These entries of Anna's relating to her attending Master Holbrook's school have an additional value in that they prove that both boys and girls attended these public writing schools,a fact which has been disputed. NOTE 24. Dr. James Lloyd, born March 14, 1728, died March 14, 1810. He began his medical practice in 1752. He was appointed surgeon of the garrison at Boston, and was a close friend of Sir William Howe and Earl Percy, who for a time lived in his house. He was an Episcopalian, and one of the indignant protesters against the alteration of the liturgy at King's Chapel. Though a warm Tory and Loyalist, he was never molested by the American government. He was one of Boston's most skilful and popular physicians for many years. While other city doctors got but a shilling and sixpence for their regular fee, he charged and received the exorbitant sum of half a dollar a visit; and for \"bringing little master to town,\" in which function he was a specialist, he charged a guinea. NOTE 25. A pincushion was for many years, and indeed is still, in some parts of New England, a highly conventional gift to a mother with a young babe. Mrs. Deming must have made many of these cushions. One of her manufacture still exists. It is about five inches long and three inches wide; one side is of white silk stuck around the edge with oldfashioned clumsy pins, with the words, \"John Winslow March 1783. Welcome Little Stranger.\" The other side is of gray satin with green spots, with a cluster of pins in the centre, and other pins winding around in a vine and forming a row round the edge. NOTE 26. Though the exchange of Christmas gifts was rare in New England, a certain observance of New Year's Day by gifts seems to have obtained. And we find in Judge Sewall's diary that he was greeted on New Year's morn with a levet, or blast of trumpets, under his window; and he celebrated the opening of the eighteenth century with a very poor poem of his own composition, which he caused to be recited through Boston streets by the towncrier. NOTE 27. The word \"pompedore\" or Pompadour was in constant use in that day. We read of pompedore shoes, laces, capes, aprons, sacques, stockings, and headdresses. NOTE 28. Aunt Storer was Mrs. Ebenezer Storer. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Green. She was a sister of Mrs. Joshua Winslow. She was born October 12, 1734, died December 8, 1774; was married July 17, 1751, to Ebenezer Storer, who was born January 27, 172930, died January 6, 1807. He was a Harvard graduate, and was for many years treasurer of that college. He was one of Boston's most intellectual and respected citizens. His library was large. His name constantly appears on the lists of subscribers to new books. After his death his astronomical instruments became the property of Harvard College, and as late as 1843 his cometfinder was used there. As Anna Green Winslow spent so much of her time in her \"Aunt Storers\" home in Sudbury Street, it is interesting to know that a very correct picture of this elegant Boston home of colonial days has been preserved through the account given in the Memoir of Eliza Susan Morton Quincy,though many persons still living remember the house: \"The mansion of Ebenezer Storer, an extensive edifice of wood three stories in height, was erected in 1700. It was situated on Sudbury Street between two trees of great size and antiquity. An old English elm of uncommon height and circumference grew in the sidewalk of the street before the mansion, and behind it was a sycamore tree of almost equal age and dimensions. It fronted to the south with one end toward the street. From the gate a broad walk of red sandstone separated it from a grassplot which formed the courtyard, and passed the front door to the office of Mr. Storer. The vestibule of the house, from which a staircase ascended, opened on either side into the dining and drawing rooms. Both had windows towards the courtyard and also opened by glazed doors into a garden behind the house. They were long low apartments; the walls wainscoted and panelled; the furniture of carved mahogany. The ceilings were traversed through the length of the rooms by a large beam cased and finished like the walls; and from the centre of each depended a glass globe which reflected as in a convex mirror all surrounding objects. There was a rich Persian carpet in the drawingroom, the colors crimson and green. The curtains and the cushions of the windowseat were of green damask; and oval mirrors and girandoles and a teaset of rich china completed the furniture of that apartment. The wide chimneyplace in the dining room was lined and ornamented with Dutch tiles; and on each side stood capacious armchairs cushioned and covered with green damask, for the master and mistress of the family. On the walls were portraits in crayon by Copley, and valuable engravings representing Franklin with his lightning rod, Washington, and other eminent men of the last century. Between the windows hung a long mirror in a mahogany frame; and opposite the fireplace was a buffet ornamented with porcelain statuettes and a set of rich china. A large apartment in the second story was devoted to a valuable library, a philosophical apparatus, a collection of engravings, a solar microscope, a camera, etc.\" As I read this description I seem to see the figure of our happy little diarywriter reflected in the great glass globes that hung from the summertrees, while she danced on the Persian carpet, or sat curled up reading on the cushioned windowseat. NOTE 29. As this was in the time of depreciated currency, 45 was not so large a sum to spend for a young girl's outfit as would at first sight appear. NOTE 30. Dr. Charles Chauncey was born January 1, 1705; died February 10, 1787. He graduated at Harvard in 1721, and soon became pastor of the First Church in Boston. He was an equally active opponent of Whitefield and of Episcopacy. He was an ardent and romantic patriot, yet so plain in his ways and views that he wished Paradise Lost might be turned into prose that he might understand it. NOTE 31. Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton was pastor of the New Brick Church. He had a congregation of stanch Whigs; but unluckily, the Tory Governor Hutchinson also attended his church. Dr. Pemberton was the other minister of the two who sprung the Governor's hated Thanksgiving proclamation of 1771 on their parishes a week ahead of time, as told in Note 3, and the astounded and disgusted New Brick hearers, more violent than the Old South attendants, walked out of meeting while it was being read. Dr. Pemberton's troubled and unhappy pastorate came to an end by the closing of his church in war times in 1775. He was of the 1721 class of Harvard College. He died September 9, 1777. NOTE 32. We find frequent references in the writings and newspapers of the times to this truly Puritanical dread of bishops. To the descendants of the Pilgrims the very name smacked of incense, stole, and monkish jargon. A writer, signing himself \"America,\" gives in the Boston Evening Post, of October 14, 1771, a communication thoroughly characteristic of the spirit of the community against the establishment of bishops, the persistent determination to \"beate down every sprout of episcopacie.\" NOTE 33. A neglige was a loose gown or sacque open in front, to be worn over a handsome petticoat; and in spite of its name, was not only in high fashion for many years, but was worn for full dress. Abigail Adams, writing to Mrs. Storer, on January 20, 1785, says: \"Trimming is reserved for full dress only, when very large hoops and negliges with trains three yards long are worn.\" I find advertised in the Boston Evening Post, as early as November, 1755: \"Horsehair Quilted Coats to wear with Negligees.\" A poem printed in New York in 1756 has these lines: \"Put on her a Shepherdee A Short Sack or Negligee Ruffled high to keep her warm Eight or ten about an arm.\" NOTE 34. A pistareen was a Spanish coin worth about seventeen cents. NOTE 35. There exists in New England a tradition of \"groaning cake,\" made and baked in honor of a mother and babe. These cakes which Anna bought of the nurse may have been \"groaning cakes.\" It was always customary at that time to give \"vails\" to the nurse when visiting a newborn child; sometimes gifts of money, often of trinkets and articles of clothing. NOTE 36. Miss \"Scolley\" was Mary Scollay, youngest of the thirteen children of John Scollay (who was born in 1712, died October, 1799), and his wife Mary. Mary was born in 1759. She married Rev. Thomas Prentiss on February 9, 1798, had nine children, and lived to be eightytwo years olddying in 1841. Her sister Mercy was engaged to be married to General Warren, but he fell at Bunker Hill: and his betrothed devoted herself afterwards to the care and education of his orphaned children whom he had by his first wife. NOTE 37. Miss Bella Coffin was probably Isabella, daughter of John Coffin and Isabella Child, who were married in 1750. She married Major MacMurde, and their sons were officers in India. NOTE 38. This Miss \"Quinsey\" was Ann Quincy, the daughter of Col. Josiah Quincy (who was born 1710, died 1784), and his third wife, Ann Marsh. Ann was born December 8, 1763, and thus would have been in her ninth year at the time of the little rout. She married the Rev. Asa Packard, of Marlborough, Mass., in 1790. NOTE 39. In the universal use of wines and strong liquors in New England at that date children took unrestrainedly their proportionate part. It seems strange to think of this girl assembly of little Bostonians drinking wine and hot or cold punch as part of their \"treat,\" yet no doubt they were well accustomed to such fare. I know of a little girl of still tenderer years who was sent at that same time from the Barbadoes to her grandmother's house in Boston to be \"finished\" in Boston schools, as was Anna, and who left her relative's abode in high dudgeon because she was not permitted to have wine at her meals; and her parents upheld her, saying Missy must be treated like a lady and have all the wine she wished. Cobbett, who thought liquor drinking the national disease of America, said that \"at all hours of the day little boys at or under twelve years of age go into stores and tip off their drams.\" Thus it does not seem strange for little maids also to drink at a party. The temperance awakening of this century came none too soon. NOTE 40. Paste ornaments were universally worn by both men and women, as well as by little girls, and formed the decoration of much of the headgear of fashionable dames. Many advertisements appear in New England newspapers, which show how large and varied was the importation of hair ornaments at that date. We find advertised in the Boston Evening Post, of 1768: \"Double and single row knotted Paste Combs, Paste Hair Sprigs  Pins all prices. Marcasite and Pearl Hair Sprigs, Garnet  Pearl Hair Sprigs.\" In the Salem Gazette and various Boston papers I read of \"black  coloured plumes  feathers.\" Other hair ornaments advertised in the Boston News Letter, of December, 1768, were \"Long and small Tail Garnets, Mock Garland of all sorts and Ladies Poll Combs.\" Steel plumes, pompons, aigrettes, and rosettes all were worn on the head, and artificial flowers, wreaths of gauze, and silk ribbons. NOTE 41. Marcasite, spelled also marcassite, marchasite, marquesett, or marquaset, was a mineral, the crystallized form of iron pyrites. It was largely used in the eighteenth century for various ornamental purposes, chiefly in the decoration of the person. It took a good polish, and when cut in facets like a rosediamond, formed a pretty material for shoe and kneebuckles, earrings, rings, pins, and hair ornaments. Scarce a single advertisement of wares of milliner or mantua maker can he found in eighteenth century newspapers that does not contain in some form of spelling the word marcasite, and scarce a rich gown or headdress was seen without some ornament of marcasite. NOTE 42. Master Turner was William Turner, a fashionable dancing master of Boston, who afterward resided in Salem, and married Judith, daughter of Dr. Edward Augustus Holyoke, of Salem, who died in 1829, aged one hundred and one years. It was recalled by an old lady that the scholars in the school of her youth marched through Boston streets, to the music of the fiddle played by \"Black Henry,\" to Concert Hall, corner Tremont and Bromfield streets, to practice dancing; and that Mr. Turner walked at the head of the school. His advertisements may be seen in Boston and Salem papers, thus: \"Mr. Turner informs the Ladies and Gentlemen in Town and Country that he has reduced his price for teaching from Six Dollars Entrance to One Guinea, and from Four Dollars per month to Three. Those ladies and Gentlemen who propose sending their children to be taught will notice no books will be kept as Mr. T. has suffered much by Booking. The pupils must pay monthly if they are desirous the School should continue.\" NOTE 43. \"Unkle Ned\" was Edward Green, born September 18, 1733; died July 29, 1790. He married, on April 14, 1757, Mary Storer (sister of Ebenezer Storer and of Hannah Storer Green). They had no children. He was, in 1780, one of the enlisting officers for Suffolk County. In a letter of George Green's, written July 25, 1770, we read: \"Ned still lives gentlemanlike at Southwacks Court without doing any business tho' obliged to haul in his horns;\" and from another of December 5, 1770: \"Ned after having shown off as long as he you'd with his yello damask window curtains c is (the last month) retired into the country and lives wth his wife at Parson Storers at Watertown. How long that will hold I cant say.\" NOTE 44. Madam Smith was evidently Anna's teacher in sewing. The duties pertaining to a sewing school were, in those days, no light matter. From an advertisement of one I learn that there were taught at these schools: \"All kinds of Needleworks viz: point, Brussels, Dresden Gold, Silver, and silk Embroidery of every kind. Tambour Feather, India  Darning, Spriggings with a Variety of Openwork to each. Tapestry plain, lined, and drawn. Catgut, black  white, with a number of beautiful Stitches. Diaper and Plain Darnings. French Quiltings, Knitting, Various Sorts of marking with the Embellishments of Royal cross, Plain cross, Queen, Irish, and Tent Stitches.\" Can any nineteenth century woman read this list of feminine accomplishments without looking abashed upon her idle hands, and ceasing to wonder at the delicate heirlooms of lace and embroidery that have come down to us! NOTE 45. Grandmamma Sargent was Joshua Winslow's mother. Her maiden name was Sarah Pierce. She was born April 30, 1697, died August 2, 1771. She married on September 21, 1721, John Winslow, who lived to be thirtyeight years old. After his death she married Dr. Nathaniel Sargent in 1749. NOTE 46. These lines were a part of the epitaph said to be composed by Governor Thomas Dudley, who died at Andover, Mass., in 1653. They were found after his death and preserved in Morton's New England's Memorial. They run thus: Dim eyes, deaf ears, cold stomach show My dissolution is in view; Eleven times seven near lived have I, And now God calls, I willing die; My shuttle's shot, my race is run, My sun is set, my deed is done; My span is measur'd, tale is told, My flower is faded and grown old, My dream is vanish'd, shadow's fled, My soul with Christ, my body dead; Farewell dear wife, children and friends, Hate heresy, make blessed ends; Bear poverty, live with good men, So shall we meet with joy again. Let men of God in courts and churches watch O'er such as do a toleration hatch; Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice, To prison all with heresy and vice. If men be left, and other wise combine My epitaph's, I dy'd no libertine. NOTE 47. Miss Polly Vans was Mary Vans, daughter of Hugh and Mary Pemberton Vans, and aunt of Caty Vans. She was born in 1733. We have some scattered glimpses of her life. She joined the Old South in 1755. In the Boston Gazette, of April 9, 1770, we read, \"Fan Mounts mounted by Mary Vans at the house of Deacon Williams, in Cornhill.\" We hear of her at Attleborough with Samuel Whitwell's wife when the gates of Boston were closed, and we know she married Deacon Jonathan Mason on Sunday evening, December 20, 1778. She was his second wife. His first wife was Miriam Clark, and was probably the Mrs. Mason who was present at Mrs. Whitwell's, and died June 5, 1774. Mary Vans Mason lived till 1820, having witnessed the termination of eight of the pastorates of the Old South Church. Well might Anna term her \"a Sister of the Old South.\" She was in 1817 the President of the Old South Charity School, and is described as a \"disinterested friend, a judicious adviser, an affectionate counsellor, a mild but faithful reprover, a humble, selfdenying, fervent, active, cheerful Christian.\" Jonathan Mason was not only a deacon, but a prosperous merchant and citizen. He helped to found the first bank in New England. His son was United States Senator. Two other daughters of Hugh Vans were a Mrs. Langdon, of Wiscasset, Maine, and Mrs. John Coburn. NOTE 48. St. Valentine's Day was one of the few English holidays observed in New England. We find even Governor Winthrop writing to his wife about \"challenging a valentine.\" In England at that date, and for a century previous, the first person of the opposite sex seen in the morning was the observer's valentine. We find Madam Pepys lying in bed for a long time one St. Valentine's morning with eyes tightly closed, lest she see one of the painters who was gilding her new mantelpiece, and be forced to have him for her valentine. Anna means, doubtless, that the first person she chanced to see that morning was \"an old country plowjoger.\" NOTE 49. Boston was at that date pervaded by the spirit of Liberty. Sons of Liberty held meetings every day and every night. Daughters of Liberty held spinning and weaving bees, and gathered in bands pledging themselves to drink no tea till the obnoxious revenue act was repealed. Young unmarried girls joined in an association with the proud declaration, \"We, the daughters of those Patriots who have appeared for the public interest, do now with pleasure engage with them in denying ourselves the drinking of foreign tea.\" Even the children felt the thrill of revolt and joined in patriotic demonstrationsand a year or two later the entire graduating class at Harvard, to encourage home manufactures, took their degrees in homespun. NOTE 50. The cutpaper pictures referred to are the ones which are reproduced in this book, and which are still preserved. Anna's father finally received them. Mrs. Deming and other members of the Winslow family seem to have excelled in this art, and are remembered as usually bringing paper and scissors when at a teadrinking, and assiduously cutting these pictures with great skill and swiftness and with apparently but slight attention to the work. This form of decorative art was very fashionable in colonial days, and was taught under the ambitious title of Papyrotamia. NOTE 51. The \"biziness of making flowers\" was a thriving one in Boston. We read frequently in newspapers of the day such notices as that of Anne Dacray, of Pudding Lane, in the Boston Evening Post, of 1769, who advertises that she \"makes and sells Headflowers: Ladies may be supplied with single buds for trimming Stomachers or sticking in the Hair.\" Advertisements of teachers in the art of flowermaking also are frequent. I note one from the Boston Gazette, of October 19, 1767: \"To the young Ladies of Boston. Elizabeth Courtney as several Ladies has signified of having a desire to learn that most ingenious art of Painting on Gauze  Catgut, proposes to open a School, and that her business may be a public good, designs to teach the making of all sorts of French Trimmings, Flowers, and Feather Muffs and Tippets. And as these Arts above mentioned (the Flowers excepted) are entirely unknown on the Continent, she flatters herself to meet with all due encouragement; and more so, as every Lady may have a power of serving herself of what she is now obliged to send to England for, as the whole process is attended with little or no expence. The Conditions are Five Dollars at entrance; to be confin'd to no particular hours or time: And if they apply Constant may be Compleat in six weeks. And when she has fifty subscribers school will be opened, c, c.\" NOTE 52. This was James Lovell, the famous Boston schoolmaster, orator, and patriot. He was born in Boston October 31, 1737. He graduated at Harvard in 1756, then became a Latin School usher. He married Miss Helen Sheaffe, older sister of the \"two Miss Sheafs\" named herein; and their daughter married Henry Loring, of Brookline. He was a famous patriot: he delivered the oration in 1771 commemorative of the Boston Massacre. He was imprisoned by the British as a spy on the evidence of letters found on General Warren's dead body after the battle of Bunker Hill. He died in Windham, Maine, July 14, 1814. A full account of his life and writings is given in Loring's Hundred Boston Orators. NOTE 53. Nothing seems more revolting to our modern notions of decency than the inhuman custom of punishing criminals in the open streets. From the earliest days of the colonies the greatest publicity was given to the crime, to its punishment, and to the criminal. Anna shows, in her acquaintance with the vices of Bet Smith, a painful familiarity with evil unknown in any wellbred child of today. Samuel Breck wrote thus of the Boston of 1771: \"The large whippingpost painted red stood conspicuously and prominently in the most public street in the town. It was placed in State Street directly under the windows of a great writing school which I frequented, and from them the scholars were indulged in the spectacle of all kinds of punishment suited to harden their hearts and brutalize their feelings. Here women were taken in a huge cage, in which they were dragged on wheels from prison, and tied to the post with bare backs on which thirty or forty lashes were bestowed among the screams of the culprit and the uproar of the mob. A little further in the street was to be seen the pillory with three or four fellows fastened by the head and hands, and standing for an hour in that helpless posture, exposed to gross and cruel jeers from the multitude, who pelted them incessantly with rotten eggs and every repulsive kind of garbage that could be collected.\" There was a pillory in State Street in Boston as late as 1803, and men stood in it for the crime of sinking a vessel at sea and defrauding the underwriters. In 1771 the pillory was in constant use in Newport. NOTE 54. In 1770 British troops were quartered in Boston, to the intense annoyance and indignation of Boston inhabitants. Disturbances between citizens and soldiers were frequent, and many quarrels arose. On the night of March 5 in that year the disturbance became so great that the troops, at that time under command of Captain Preston, fired upon the unarmed citizens in King (now State) street, causing the death of Crispus Attucks, a colored man, Samuel Gray and James Caldwell, who died on the spot, and mortally wounding Patrick Carr and Samuel Maverick. At the burial of these slaughtered men the greatest concourse ever known in the colonies flocked to the grave in the Granary Burying Ground. All traffic ceased. The stores and manufactories were closed. The bells were tolled in all the neighboring towns. Daniel Webster said, that from the moment the blood of these men stained the pavements of Boston streets, we may date the severance of the colony from the British empire. The citizens demanded the removal of the troops, and the request was complied with. For many years the anniversary of this day was a solemn holiday in Boston, and religious and patriotic services were publicly held. NOTE 55. Mather Byles was born March 15, 1707; died July 5, 1788. He was ordained pastor of the Hollis Street Congregational Church, of Boston, in 1733. He was a staunch Loyalist till the end of his days, as were his daughters, who lived till 1837. His chief fame does not rest on his name as a clergyman or an author, but as an inveterate and unmerciful jester. NOTE 56. Henry Green, the brother of Anna's mother, was born June 2, 1738. He was a Latin School boy, was in business in Nova Scotia, and died in 1774. NOTE 57. This stove was a footstove,a small metal box, usually of sheet tin or iron, enclosed in a wooden frame or standing on little legs, and with a handle or bail for comfortable carriage. In it were placed hot coals from a glowing wood fire, and from it came a welcome warmth to make endurable the freezing floors of the otherwise unwarmed meetinghouse. Footstoves were much used in the Old South. In the records of the church, under date of January 16, 1771, may be read: \"Whereas, danger is apprehended from the stoves that are frequently left in the meetinghouse after the publick worship is over; Voted that the Saxton make diligent search on the Lords Day evening and in the evening after a Lecture, to see if any stoves are left in the house, and that if he find any there he take them to his house; and it is expected that the owners of such stoves make reasonable satisfaction to the Saxton for his trouble before they take them away.\" The Old South did not have a stove set in the church for heating till 1783. NOTE 58. The first anniversary of the Boston Massacre was celebrated throughout the city, and a massmeeting was held at the Old South Church, where James Lovell made a stirring address. See Notes 52 and 54. NOTE 59. The Queen's nightcap was a very large full cap with plaited ruffles, which is made familiar to us through the portraits of Martha Washington. NOTE 60. \"Old Mrs. Sallisbury\" was Mrs. Nicholas Salisbury, who was married in 1729, and was mother of Rebecca Salisbury, who became Mrs. Daniel Waldo, and of Samuel Salisbury, who married Elizabeth Sewall. See Note 73. NOTE 61. Mrs. John Avery. Her husband was Secretary of the Commonwealth and nephew of John Deming, who in his will left his house to John Avery, Jr. NOTE 62. A baby hutt was a boobyhutch, a clumsy, illcontrived covered carriage. The word is still used in some parts of England, and a curious survival of it in New England is the word boobyhut applied to a hooded sleigh; and booby to the body of a hackney coach set on runners. Mr. Howells uses the word booby in the latter signification, and it may be heard frequently in eastern Massachusetts, particularly in Boston. NOTE 63. Peggy Phillips was Margaret Phillips, daughter of William and Margaret Wendell Phillips. She was born May 26, 1762, married Judge Samuel Cooper, and died February 19, 1844. She was aunt of Wendell Phillips. NOTE 64. This \"droll figure\" may have been a drawing, or a dressed doll, or \"baby,\" as such were calleda doll that displayed in careful miniature the reigning modes of the English court. In the New England Weekly Journal, of July 2, 1733, appears this notice: \"To be seen at Mrs. Hannah Teatts Mantua Maker at the Head of Summer Street Boston a Baby drest after the Newest Fashion of Mantuas and Night Gowns  everything belonging to a dress. Latily arrived on Capt. White from London, any Ladies that desire it may either come or send, she will be ready to wait on 'em if they come to the House it is Five Shilling,  if she waits on 'em it is Seven Shilling.\" These models of fashion were employed until this century. NOTE 65. We can have a very exact notion of the books imported and printed for and read by children at that time, from the advertisements in the papers. In the Boston Gazette and Country Journal, of January 20, 1772, the booksellers, Cox and Berry, have this notice: The following Little Books for the Instruction  Amusement of all good Boys and Girls. The Brother Gift or the Naughty Girl Reformed. The Sister Gift, or the Naughty Boy Reformed. Hobby Horse or Christian Companion. Robin GoodFellow, A Fairy Tale. Puzzling Cap, A Collection of Riddles. The Cries of London as exhibited in the Streets. Royal Guide or Early Introduction to Reading English. Mr Winloves Collection of Stories. \" \" Moral Lectures. History of Tom Jones abridg'd from the works of \" \" Joseph Andrews H. Fielding. \" \" Pamela abridg'd from the works of \" \" Grandison S. Richardson, Esq. \" \" Clarissa NOTE 66. General John Winslow was but a distant kinsman of Anna's, for he was descended from Edward Winslow. He was born May 27, 1702; died April 17, 1774. He was a soldier and jurist, but his most prominent position (though now of painful notoriety) was as commander of that tragic disgrace in American history, the expedition against the Acadians. It is told in extenuation of his action that before the annihilation and dispersion of that unfortunate community he addressed them, saying that his duty was \"very disagreeable to his natural make and temper as it must be grievous to them,\" but that he must obey orders,and of course what he said was true. NOTE 67. The exercises attending this election of counsellors must indeed have been an impressive sight. The Governor, attended by a troop of horse, rode from the Province House to Cambridge, where religious services were held. An Election Sermon was preached. Volleys and salutes were fired at the Battery and Castle. A protest was made in the public press, as on the previous year, against holding this election in Cambridge instead of in the \"Town House in Boston, the accustomed Ancient Place,\" and also directly to the Governor, which was answered by him in the newspapers; and at this election a most significant event occurredJohn Hancock declined to accept a seat among the counsellors, to which he had been elected. The newspapersthe Massachusetts Spy and the Boston Gazette and Country Journalcommented on his action thus: \"Mr Hancocks declining a seat in the Council Board is very satisfactory to the Friends of Liberty among his constituents. This Gentleman has stood five years successively and as often Negativ'd. Whatever may have been the Motive of his being approbated at last his own Determination now shows that he had rather be a Representative of the People since he has had so repeatedly their Election and Confidence.\" NOTE 68. Boston had two election days. On Artillery Election the Ancient and Honorable Artillery had a dress parade on the Common. The new officers were chosen and received their new commissions from the new Governor. No negroes were then allowed on the Common. The other day was called \"Nigger Lection,\" because the blacks were permitted to throng the Common and buy gingerbread and drink beer, as did their betters at Artillery Election. NOTE 69. Col. Thomas Marshall was a Revolutionary officer. He commanded the Tenth Massachusetts Regiment at Valley Forge. He was Captain of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery from 1763 to 1767, and at one time commanded Castle Island, now Fort Independence. He was one of the Selectmen of Boston at the time when the town was invested by troops under Washington. He died at Weston, Mass., on November 18, 1800. NOTE 70. A night gown was not in those days a garment for wear when sleeping, but resembled what we now call a teagown. The night attire was called a rail. Both men and women wore in public loose robes which they called night gowns. Men often wore these gowns in their offices. NOTE 71. Many Boston people agreed with Anna in her estimate of Rev. Samuel Stillman. He was called to the First Baptist Church in 1765, and soon became one of Boston's most popular and sensational preachers. Crowds thronged his obscure little church at the North End, and he took an active part in Revolutionary politics. Many were pleased with his patriotism who did not agree with him in doctrine. In the curious poem on Boston Ministers, already quoted, we read: Last in my list is a Baptist, A real saint, I wot. Though named Stillman much noise he can Make when in pulpit got. The multitude, both grave and rude, As drove by wind and tide, After him hie, when he doth try To gain them to his side. NOTE 72. Mr. and Mrs. Hooper were \"King\" Hooper and his wife of Marblehead. He was so called on account of his magnificent style of living. He was one of the Harvard Class of 1763; was a refugee in 1775, and died insolvent in 1790. The beautiful mansion which he built at Danvers, Mass., is still standing in perfect condition, and is the home of Francis Peabody, Esq. It is one of the finest examples of eighteenth century architecture in New England. NOTE 73. This \"Miss Becca\" was Rebecca Salisbury, born April 7, 1731, died September 25, 1811. She was a fine, highspirited young woman, and upon being taunted by a rejected lover with, \"The proverb oldyou know it well, That women dying maids, lead apes in hell,\" (a belief referred to in Taming of the Shrew, Act II. Scene 1), she made this clever rhyming answer: \"Lead apes in helltis no such thing; The story's told to fool us. But better there to hold a string, Than here let monkeys lead us.\" She married Daniel Waldo May 3, 1757. The \"very pretty Misses\" were their daughters; Elizabeth, born November 24, 1765, died unmarried in Worcester, August 28, 1845; and Martha (who in this diary is called Patty), born September 14, 1761, died November 25, 1828. She married Levi Lincoln, LieutenantGovernor of Massachusetts, and became the mother of Levi Lincoln, Governor of Massachusetts, Enoch Lincoln, Governor of Maine, and Col. John Lincoln. NOTE 74. The fashion of the roll was of much importance in those days. A roll frequently weighed fourteen ounces. We can well believe such a heavy mass made poor Anna's head \"ach and itch like anything.\" That same year the Boston Gazette had a laughable account of an accident to a young woman on Boston streets. She was knocked down by a runaway, and her headdress received the most serious damage. The outer covering of hair was thrust aside, and cotton, tow, and false hair were disgorged to the delight of jeering boys, who kicked the various stuffings around the street. A Salem hairdresser advertised that he would \"attend to the polite construction of rolls to raise ladies heads to any pitch desired.\" The Abb Robin, traveling through Boston a few years later, found the hair of ladies' heads \"raised and supported upon rolls to an extravagant height.\" SELECT POEMS OF THOMAS GRAY. EDITED, WITH NOTES, BY WILLIAM J. ROLFE, A.M., FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. WITH ENGRAVINGS. NEW YORK: HARPER  BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1883. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by HARPER  BROTHERS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. PREFACE. Many editions of Gray have been published in the last fifty years, some of them very elegant, and some showing considerable editorial labor, but not one, so far as I am aware, critically exact either in text or in notes. No editor since Mathias (A.D. 1814) has given the 2d line of the Elegy as Gray wrote and printed it; while Mathias's mispunctuation of the 123d line has been copied by his successors, almost without exception. Other variations from the early editions are mentioned in the notes. It is a curious fact that the most accurate edition of Gray's collected poems is the editio princeps of 1768, printed under his own supervision. The first edition of the two Pindaric odes, The Progress of Poesy and The Bard (StrawberryHill, 1757), was printed with equal care, and the proofs were probably read by the poet. The text of the present edition has been collated, line by line, with that of these early editions, and in no instance have I adopted a later reading. All the MS. variations, and the various readings I have noted in the modern editions, are given in the notes. Pickering's edition of 1835, edited by Mitford, has been followed blindly in nearly all the more recent editions, and its many errors (see pp. 84 and 105, footnotes) have been faithfully reproduced. Even its blunders in the \"indenting\" of the lines in the corresponding stanzas of the two Pindaric odes, which any careful proofreader ought to have corrected, have been copied again and againas in the Boston (1853) reprint of Pickering, the pretty little edition of Bickers  Son (London, n. d.), the facsimile of the latter printed at our University Press, Cambridge (1866), etc. Of former editions of Gray, the only one very fully annotated is Mitford's (Pickering, 1835), already mentioned. I have drawn freely from that, correcting many errors, and also from Wakefield's and Mason's editions, and from Hales's notes (Longer English Poems, London, 1872) on the Elegy and the Pindaric odes. To all this material many original notes and illustrations have been added. The facts concerning the first publication of the Elegy are not given correctly by any of the editors, and even the \"experts\" of Notes and Queries have not been able to disentangle the snarl of conflicting evidence. I am not sure that I have settled the question myself (see p. 74 and footnote), but I have at least shown that Gray is a more credible witness in the case than any of his critics. Their testimony is obviously inconsistent and inconclusive; he may have confounded the names of two magazines, but that remains to be proved.1 Footnote 1: Since writing the above today, I have found by the merest chance in my own library another bit of evidence in the case, which fully confirms my surmise that the Elegy was printed in The Magazine of Magazines before it appeared in the Grand Magazine of Magazines. Chambers's Book of Days (vol. ii. p. 146), in an article on \"Gray and his Elegy,\" says: \"It first saw the light in The Magazine of Magazines, February, 1751. Some imaginary literary wag is made to rise in a convivial assembly, and thus announce it: 'Gentlemen, give me leave to soothe my own melancholy, and amuse you in a most noble manner, with a full copy of verses by the very ingenious Mr. Gray, of Peterhouse, Cambridge. They are stanzas written in a country churchyard.' Then follow the verses. A few days afterwards, Dodsley's edition appeared,\" etc. The same authority gives the four stanzas omitted after the 18th (see p. 79) as they appear in the North American Review, except that the first line of the third is \"Hark how the sacred calm that reigns around,\" a reading which I have found nowhere else. The stanza \"There scattered oft,\" etc. (p. 81), is given as in the review. The reading on p. 82 must be a later one. I have retained most of the \"parallel passages\" from the poets given by the editors, and have added others, without regard to the critics who have sneered at this kind of annotations. Whether Gray borrowed from the others, or the others from him, matters little; very likely, in most instances, neither party was consciously the borrower. Gray, in his own notes, has acknowledged certain debts to other poets, and probably these were all that he was aware of. Some of these he contracted unwittingly (see what he says of one of them in a letter to Walpole, quoted in the note on the Ode on the Spring, 31), and the same may have been true of some apparently similar cases pointed out by modern editors. To me, however, the chief interest of these coincidences and resemblances of thought or expression is as studies in the \"comparative anatomy\" of poetry. The teacher will find them useful as pegs to hang questions upon, or texts for oral instruction. The pupil, or the young reader, who finds out who all these poets were, when they lived, what they wrote, etc., will have learned no small amount of English literary history. If he studies the quotations merely as illustrations of style and expression, or as examples of the poetic diction of various periods, he will have learned some lessons in the history and the use of his mothertongue. The woodcuts on pp. 9, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 34, 36, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 50, and 61 are from Birket Foster's designs; those on pp. 29, 31, 33, 35, 37, and 38 are from the graceful drawings of \"E. V. B.\" (the Hon. Mrs. Boyle); the rest are from various sources. Cambridge, Feb. 29, 1876. CONTENTS. PAGE THE LIFE OF THOMAS GRAY, BY ROBERT CARRUTHERS . . . . 9 STOKEPOGIS, BY WILLIAM HOWITT . . . . . . . . . . . 16 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD . . . . . . . . 23 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 ON THE SPRING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT . . . . . . . . . . 48 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE . . . . . . . 50 THE PROGRESS OF POESY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 THE BARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 HYMN TO ADVERSITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 NOTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 APPENDIX TO NOTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Illustration: STOKEPOGIS CHURCH. THE LIFE OF THOMAS GRAY. BY ROBERT CARRUTHERS. Thomas Gray, the author of the celebrated Elegy written in a Country Churchyard, was born in Cornhill, London, December 26, 1716. His father, Philip Gray, an exchange broker and scrivener, was a wealthy and nominally respectable citizen, but he treated his family with brutal severity and neglect, and the poet was altogether indebted for the advantages of a learned education to the affectionate care and industry of his mother, whose maiden name was Antrobus, and who, in conjunction with a maiden sister, kept a millinery shop. A brother of Mrs. Gray was assistant to the Master of Eton, and was also a fellow of Pembroke College, Cambridge. Under his protection the poet was educated at Eton, and from thence went to Peterhouse, attending college from 1734 to September, 1738. At Eton he had as contemporaries Richard West, son of the Lord Chancellor of Ireland, and Horace Walpole, son of the triumphant Whig minister, Sir Robert Walpole. West died early in his 26th year, but his genius and virtues and his sorrows will forever live in the correspondence of his friend. In the spring of 1739, Gray was invited by Horace Walpole to accompany him as travelling companion in a tour through France and Italy. They made the usual route, and Gray wrote remarks on all he saw in Florence, Rome, Naples, etc. His observations on arts and antiquities, and his sketches of foreign manners, evince his admirable taste, learning, and discrimination. Since Milton, no such accomplished English traveller had visited those classic shores. In their journey through Dauphiny, Gray's attention was strongly arrested by the wild and picturesque site of the Grande Chartreuse, surrounded by its dense forest of beech and fir, its enormous precipices, cliffs, and cascades. He visited it a second time on his return, and in the album of the mountain convent he wrote his famous Alcaic Ode. At Reggio the travellers quarrelled and parted. Walpole took the whole blame on himself. He was fond of pleasure and amusements, \"intoxicated by vanity, indulgence, and the insolence of his situation as a prime minister's son\"his own confessionwhile Gray was studious, of a serious disposition, and independent spirit. The immediate cause of the rupture is said to have been Walpole's clandestinely opening, reading, and resealing a letter addressed to Gray, in which he expected to find a confirmation of his suspicions that Gray had been writing unfavourably of him to some friends in England. A partial reconciliation was effected about three years afterwards by the intervention of a lady, and Walpole redeemed his youthful error by a lifelong sincere admiration and respect for his friend. From Reggio Gray proceeded to Venice, and thence travelled homewards, attended by a laquais de voyage. He arrived in England in September, 1741, having been absent about two years and a half. His father died in November, and it was found that the poet's fortune would not enable him to prosecute the study of the law. He therefore retired to Cambridge, and fixed his residence at the university. There he continued for the remainder of his life, with the exception of about two years spent in London, when the treasures of the British Museum were thrown open. At Cambridge he had the range of noble libraries. His happiness consisted in study, and he perused with critical attention the Greek and Roman poets, philosophers, historians, and orators. Plato and the Anthologia he read and annotated with great care, as if for publication. He compiled tables of Greek chronology, added notes to Linnus and other naturalists, wrote geographical disquisitions on Strabo; and, besides being familiar with French and Italian literature, was a zealous archological student, and profoundly versed in architecture, botany, painting, and music. In all departments of human learning, except mathematics, he was a master. But it follows that one so studious, so critical, and so fastidious, could not be a voluminous writer. A few poems include all the original compositions of Graythe quintessence, as it were, of thirty years of ceaseless study and contemplation, irradiated by bright and fitful gleams of inspiration. In 1742 Gray composed his Ode to Spring, his Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, and his Ode to Adversityproductions which most readers of poetry can repeat from memory. He commenced a didactic poem, On the Alliance of Education and Government, but wrote only about a hundred lines. Every reader must regret that this philosophical poem is but a fragment. It is in the style and measure of Dryden, of whom Gray was an ardent admirer and close student. His Elegy written in a Country Churchyard was completed and published in 1751. In the form of a sixpenny brochure it circulated rapidly, four editions being exhausted the first year. This popularity surprised the poet. He said sarcastically that it was owing entirely to the subject, and that the public would have received it as well if it had been written in prose. The solemn and affecting nature of the poem, applicable to all ranks and classes, no doubt aided its sale; it required high poetic sensibility and a cultivated taste to appreciate the rapid transitions, the figurative language, and lyrical magnificence of the odes; but the elegy went home to all hearts; while its musical harmony, originality, and pathetic train of sentiment and feeling render it one of the most perfect of English poems. No vicissitudes of taste or fashion have affected its popularity. When the original manuscript of the poem was lately (1854) offered for sale, it brought the almost incredible sum of 131 pounds. The two great odes of Gray, The Progress of Poetry and The Bard, were published in 1757, and were but coldly received. His name, however, stood high, and on the death of Cibber, the same year, he was offered the laureateship, which he wisely declined. He was ambitious, however, of obtaining the more congenial and dignified appointment of Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge, which fell vacant in 1762, and, by the advice of his friends, he made application to Lord Bute, but was unsuccessful. Lord Bute had designed it for the tutor of his soninlaw, Sir James Lowther. No one had heard of the tutor, but the Bute influence was allprevailing. In 1765 Gray took a journey into Scotland, penetrating as far north as Dunkeld and the Pass of Killiecrankie; and his account of his tour, in letters to his friends, is replete with interest and with touches of his peculiar humour and graphic description. One other poem proceeded from his pen. In 1768 the Professorship of Modern History was again vacant, and the Duke of Grafton bestowed it upon Gray. A sum of 400 pounds per annum was thus added to his income; but his health was precarioushe had lost it, he said, just when he began to be easy in his circumstances. The nomination of the Duke of Grafton to the office of Chancellor of the University enabled Gray to acknowledge the favour conferred on himself. He thought it better that gratitude should sing than expectation, and he honoured his grace's installation with an ode. Such occasional productions are seldom happy; but Gray preserved his poetic dignity and select beauty of expression. He made the founders of Cambridge, as Mr. Hallam has remarked, \"pass before our eyes like shadows over a magic glass.\" When the ceremony of the installation was over, the poetprofessor went on a tour to the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, and few of the beauties of the lakecountry, since so famous, escaped his observation. This was to be his last excursion. While at dinner one day in the collegehall he was seized with an attack of gout in his stomach, which resisted all the powers of medicine, and proved fatal in less than a week. He died on the 30th of July, 1771, and was buried, according to his own desire, beside the remains of his mother at StokePogis, near Slough, in Buckinghamshire, in a beautiful sequestered village churchyard that is supposed to have furnished the scene of his elegy.1 The literary habits and personal peculiarities of Gray are familiar to us from the numerous representations and allusions of his friends. It is easy to fancy the reclusepoet sitting in his collegechambers in the old quadrangle of Pembroke Hall. His windows are ornamented with mignonette and choice flowers in China vases, but outside may be discerned some ironwork intended to be serviceable as a fireescape, for he has a horror of fire. His furniture is neat and select; his books, rather for use than show, are disposed around him. He has a harpsichord in the room. In the corner of one of the apartments is a trunk containing his deceased mother's dresses, carefully folded up and preserved. His fastidiousness, bordering upon effeminacy, is visible in his gait and mannerin his handsome features and small, welldressed person, especially when he walks abroad and sinks the author and hard student in \"the gentleman who sometimes writes for his amusement.\" He writes always with a crowquill, speaks slowly and sententiously, and shuns the crew of dissonant college revellers, who call him \"a prig,\" and seek to annoy him. Long mornings of study, and nights feverish from illhealth, are spent in those chambers; he is often listless and in low spirits; yet his natural temper is not desponding, and he delights in employment. He has always something to learn or to communicatesome sally of humour or quiet stroke of satire for his friends and correspondentssome note on natural history to enter in his journalsome passage of Plato to unfold and illustratesome golden thought of classic inspiration to inlay on his pagesome bold image to tone downsome verse to retouch and harmonize. His life is on the whole innocent and happy, and a feeling of thankfulness to the Great Giver is breathed over all. Footnote 1: A claim has been put up for the churchyard of Granchester, about two miles from Cambridge, the great bell of St. Mary's serving for the \"curfew.\" But StokePogis is more likely to have been the spot, if any individual locality were indicated. The poet often visited the village, his aunt and mother residing there, and his aunt was interred in the churchyard of the place. Gray's epitaph on his mother is characterized not only by the tenderness with which he always regarded her memory, but by his style and cast of thought. It runs thus: \"Beside her friend and sister here sleep the remains of Dorothy Gray, widow, the careful, tender mother of many children, one of whom alone had the misfortune to survive her. She died March 11, 1753, aged 72.\" She had lived to read the Elegy, which was perhaps an ample recompense for her maternal cares and affection. Mrs. Gray's will commences in a similar touching strain: \"In the name of God, amen. This is the last will and desire of Dorothy Gray to her son Thomas Gray.\" Cunningham's edit. of Johnson's Lives. They were all in all to each other. The father's cruelty and neglect, their straitened circumstances, the sacrifices made by the mother to maintain her son at the university, her pride in the talents and conduct of that son, and the increasing gratitude and affection of the latter, nursed in his scholastic and cloistered solitudethese form an affecting but noble record in the history of genius. One would infer from the above that Mrs. Gray was not \"interred in the churchyard of the place,\" though the epitaph given immediately after shows that she was. Gray in his will directed that he should be laid beside her there. The passage in the will reads thus: \"First, I do desire that my body may be deposited in the vault, made by my dear mother in the churchyard of StokePogeis, near Slough in Buckinghamshire, by her remains, in a coffin of seasoned oak, neither lined nor covered, and (unless it be inconvenient) I could wish that one of my executors may see me laid in the grave, and distribute among such honest and industrious poor persons in said parish as he thinks fit, the sum of ten pounds in charity.\"Ed. Various editions of the collected works of Gray have been published. The first, including memoirs of his life and his correspondence, edited by his friend, the Rev. W. Mason, appeared in 1775. It has been often reprinted, and forms the groundwork of the editions by Mathias (1814) and Mitford (1816). Mr. Mitford, in 1843, published Gray's correspondence with the Rev. Norton Nicholls; and in 1854 another collection of Gray's letters was published, edited also by Mr. Mitford. Every scrap of the poet's MSS. is eagerly sought after, and every year seems to add to his popularity as a poet and letterwriter.       In 1778 a monument to Gray was erected in Westminster Abbey by Mason, with the following inscription: No more the Grecian muse unrivall'd reigns, To Britain let the nations homage pay; She felt a Homer's fire in Milton's strains, A Pindar's rapture in the lyre of Gray. The cenotaph afterwards erected in Stoke Park by Mr. Penn is described below. Illustration: WESTEND HOUSE. STOKEPOGIS. FROM HOWITT'S \"HOMES AND HAUNTS OF THE BRITISH POETS.\"1 Footnote 1: Harper's edition, vol. i. p. 314 foll. It is at StokePogis that we seek the most attractive vestiges of Gray. Here he used to spend his vacations, not only when a youth at Eton, but during the whole of his future life, while his mother and his aunts lived. Here it was that his Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, his celebrated Elegy written in a Country Churchyard, and his Long Story were not only written, but were mingled with the circumstances and all the tenderest feelings of his own life. His mother and aunts lived at an oldfashioned house in a very retired spot at Stoke, called WestEnd. This house stood in a hollow, much screened by trees. A small stream ran through the garden, and it is said that Gray used to employ himself when here much in this garden, and that many of the trees still remaining are of his planting. On one side of the house extended an upland field, which was planted round so as to give a charming retired walk; and at the summit of the field was raised an artificial mound, and upon it was built a sort of arcade or summerhouse, which gave full prospect of Windsor and Eton. Here Gray used to delight to sit; here he was accustomed to read and write much; and it is just the place to inspire the Ode on Eton College, which lay in the midst of its fine landscape, beautifully in view. The old house inhabited by Gray and his mother has just been pulled down, and replaced by an Elizabethan mansion by the present proprietor, Mr. Penn, of Stoke Park, just by.2 The garden, of course, has shared in the change, and now stands gay with its fountain and its modern greenhouse, and, excepting for some fine trees, no longer reminds you of Gray. The woodland walk still remains round the adjoining field, and the summerhouse on its summit, though now much cracked by time, and only held together by iron cramps. The trees are now so lofty that they completely obstruct the view, and shut out both Eton and Windsor. Footnote 2: This was written (or published, at least) in 1846; but Mitford, in the Life of Gray prefixed to the \"Eton edition\" of his Poems, published in 1847, says: \"The house, which is now called WestEnd, lies in a secluded part of the parish, on the road to Fulmer. It has lately been much enlarged and adorned by its present proprietor Mr. Penn, but the room called 'Gray's' (distinguished by a small balcony) is still preserved; and a shady walk round an adjoining meadow, with a summerhouse on the rising land, are still remembered as favourite places frequented by the poet.\"Ed.       Stoke Park is about a couple of miles from Slough. The country is flat, but its monotony is broken up by the noble character and disposition of its woods. Near the house is a fine expanse of water, across which the eye falls on fine views, particularly to the south, of Windsor Castle, Cooper's Hill, and the Forest Woods. About three hundred yards from the north front of the house stands a column, sixtyeight feet high, bearing on the top a colossal statue of Sir Edward Coke, by Rosa. The woods of the park shut out the view of WestEnd House, Gray's occasional residence, but the space is open from the mansion across the park, so as to take in the view both of the church and of a monument erected by the late Mr. Penn to Gray. Alighting from the carriage at a lodge, we enter the park just at the monument. This is composed of fine freestone, and consists of a large sarcophagus, supported on a square pedestal, with inscriptions on each side. Three of them are selected from the Ode on Eton College and the Elegy. They are: Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woefulwan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. The second is from the Ode: Ye distant spires! ye antique towers! That crown the watery glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy shade; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silverwinding way. Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields belov'd in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow. The third is again from the Elegy: Beneath those rugged elms, that yewtree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incensebreathing morn, The swallow twittering from the strawbuilt shed, The cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. The fourth bears this inscription: This Monument, in honour of THOMAS GRAY, Was erected A.D. 1799, Among the scenery Celebrated by that great Lyric and Elegiac Poet. He died in 1771, And lies unnoted in the adjoining Churchyard, Under the Tombstone on which he piously And pathetically recorded the interment Of his Aunt and lamented Mother. This monument is in a neatly kept gardenlike enclosure, with a winding walk approaching from the shade of the neighbouring trees. To the right, across the park, at some little distance, backed by fine trees, stands the rural little church and churchyard where Gray wrote his Elegy, and where he lies. As you walk on to this, the mansion closes the distant view between the woods with fine effect. The church has often been engraved, and is therefore tolerably familiar to the general reader. It consists of two barnlike structures, with tall roofs, set side by side, and the tower and finely tapered spire rising above them at the northwest corner. The church is thickly hung with ivy, where \"The moping owl may to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign.\" The structure is as simple and oldfashioned, both without and within, as any village church can well be. No village, however, is to be seen. Stoke consists chiefly of scattered houses, and this is now in the midst of the park. In the churchyard, \"Beneath those rugged elms, that yewtree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.\" All this is quite literal; and the tomb of the poet himself, near the southeast window, completes the impression of the scene. It is a plain brick altar tomb, covered with a blue slate slab, and, besides his own ashes, contains those of his mother and aunt. On the slab are inscribed the following lines by Gray himself: \"In the vault beneath are deposited, in hope of a joyful resurrection, the remains of Mary Antrobus. She died unmarried, Nov. 5, 1749, aged sixtysix. In the same pious confidence, beside her friend and sister, here sleep the remains of Dorothy Gray, widow; the careful, tender mother of many children, ONE of whom alone had the misfortune to survive her. She died, March 11, 1753, aged LXXII.\" No testimony of the interment of Gray in the same tomb was inscribed anywhere till Mr. Penn, in 1799, erected the monument already mentioned, and placed a small slab in the wall, under the window, opposite to the tomb itself, recording the fact of Gray's burial there. The whole scene is well worthy of a summer day's stroll, especially for such as, pent in the metropolis, know how to enjoy the quiet freshness of the country and the associations of poetry and the past. Illustration: GRAY'S MONUMENT, STOKE PARK. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. Illustration ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 5 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Illustration Save that, from yonder ivymantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain 10 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Illustration Beneath those rugged elms, that yewtree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 15 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. Illustration The breezy call of incensebreathing morn, The swallow twittering from the strawbuilt shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 20 Illustration For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Illustration Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 25 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Illustration Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 30 Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. 35 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise; Where, through the longdrawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 40 Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust? Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 45 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre: But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 50 Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Illustration Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 55 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 60 Illustration Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone 65 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Illustration Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 75 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80 Illustration Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. Illustration For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 85 This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 90 Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. Illustration For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Illustration Haply some hoaryheaded swain may say, \"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 100 Illustration \"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. \"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 105 Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woefulwan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. \"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; 110 Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; \"The next, with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 115 Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.\" Illustration THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. 120 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send; He gave to Misery all he had, a tear; He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his Father and his God. Illustration MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Illustration ON THE SPRING. Lo! where the rosybosom'd Hours, Fair Venus' train, appear, Disclose the longexpecting flowers, And wake the purple year! The Attic warbler pours her throat, 5 Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring; While, whispering pleasure as they fly, Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling. 10 Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade, Where'er the rude and mossgrown beech O'ercanopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink 15 With me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclin'd in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great! 20 Still is the toiling hand of Care; The panting herds repose: Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air The busy murmur glows! The insect youth are on the wing, 25 Eager to taste the honied spring, And float amid the liquid noon: Some lightly o'er the current skim, Some show their gaylygilded trim Quickglancing to the sun. 30 To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man; And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay 35 But flutter thro' life's little day, In Fortune's varying colours drest: Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance, Or chill'd by age, their airy dance They leave, in dust to rest. 40 Methinks I hear in accents low The sportive kind reply: Poor moralist! and what art thou? A solitary fly! Thy joys no glittering female meets, 45 No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, No painted plumage to display: On hasty wings thy youth is flown; Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone We frolic while 'tis May. 50 Illustration Illustration ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes. 'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, reclin'd, 5 Gaz'd on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declar'd: The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 10 Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw; and purr'd applause. Still had she gaz'd; but midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The Genii of the stream: 15 Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Through richest purple to the view Betray'd a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first, and then a claw, 20 With many an ardent wish, She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize. What female heart can gold despise? What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent 25 Again she stretch'd, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between. (Malignant Fate sat by, and smil'd.) The slippery verge her feet beguil'd, She tumbled headlong in. 30 Eight times emerging from the flood, She mew'd to every watery God, Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. 35 A favourite has no friend! From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 40 And heedless hearts is lawful prize, Nor all that glisters gold. Illustration ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. Greek: Anthrpos, hikan prophasis eis to dustuchein.MENANDER. Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the watery glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy shade; And ye, that from the stately brow 5 Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silverwinding way: 10 Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields belov'd in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow 15 A momentary bliss bestow, As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring. 20 Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace; Who foremost now delight to cleave 25 With pliant arm thy glassy wave? The captive linnet which enthrall? What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball? 30 While some, on earnest business bent, Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint To sweeten liberty, Some bold adventurers disdain 35 The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy. 40 Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast: Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, 45 Wild wit, invention ever new, And lively cheer of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly th' approach of morn. 50 Alas! regardless of their doom, The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come, No care beyond today: Yet see how all around 'em wait 55 The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand To seize their prey the murtherous band! Ah, tell them, they are men! 60 These shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, 65 Or Jealousy with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart; And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grimvisag'd comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. 70 Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, 75 And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defil'd, And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest woe. 80 Lo! in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, 85 That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slowconsuming Age. 90 To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, 95 Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more;where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise. 100 Illustration: SEAL OF ETON COLLEGE. Illustration: APOLLO CITHAROEDUS. FROM THE VATICAN. THE PROGRESS OF POESY. A Pindaric Ode. Greek: Phnanta sunetoisin: es De to pan hermnen Chatizei.PINDAR, Ol. II. I. 1. Awake, olian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers that round them blow, 5 Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Now rolling down the steep amain, 10 Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I. 2. Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemnbreathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares 15 And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. On Thracia's hills the Lord of War Has curb'd the fury of his car, And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. Perching on the sceptred hand 20 Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes and flagging wing: Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. I. 3. Thee the voice, the dance, obey, 25 Temper'd to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvetgreen The rosycrowned Loves are seen On Cytherea's day With antic Sports, and blueeyed Pleasures, 30 Frisking light in frolic measures; Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet: To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their manytwinkling feet. 35 Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay. With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way: O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move 40 The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. Illustration: DELPHI AND MOUNT PARNASSUS. II. 1. Man's feeble race what ills await! Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate! 45 The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, 50 He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. II. 2. In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er icebuilt mountains roam, 55 The Muse has broke the twilight gloom To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, 60 In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feathercinctur'd chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 65 II. 3. Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th' gean deep, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Mander's amber waves In lingering labyrinths creep, 70 How do your tuneful echoes languish, Mute, but to the voice of anguish! Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath'd around; Every shade and hallow'd fountain 75 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound: Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 80 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, O Albion! next thy seaencircled coast. Illustration: THE AVON AND STRATFORD CHURCH. III. 1. Far from the sun and summer gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 85 To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face: the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms and smil'd. \"This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year: 90 Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of joy; Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.\" III. 2. Nor second He, that rode sublime 95 Upon the seraph wings of Ecstasy, The secrets of th' abyss to spy. He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, 100 He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Clos'd his eyes in endless night. Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car, Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, 105 With necks in thunder cloth'd, and longresounding pace. III. 3. Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Brighteyed Fancy hovering o'er Scatters from her pictur'd urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 110 But ah! 'tis heard no more Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban eagle bear, 115 Sailing with supreme dominion Thro' the azure deep of air, Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun: 120 Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how farbut far above the Great. Illustration THE BARD. A Pindaric Ode. I. 1. \"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait; Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state. Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, 5 Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!\" Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, 10 As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Gloster stood aghast in speechless trance: \"To arms!\" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance. I. 2. On a rock whose haughty brow 15 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air), 20 And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. \"Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave, 25 Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To highborn Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. I. 3. \"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main; 30 Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed; Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloudtopt head. On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, 35 Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale: Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, 40 Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, 45 Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1. \"Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The windingsheet of Edward's race. 50 Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall recho with affright The shrieks of death thro' Berkeley's roofs that ring, 55 Shrieks of an agonizing king! Shewolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait! 60 Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. II. 2. \"Mighty victor, mighty lord! Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford 65 A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born? Gone to salute the rising morn. 70 Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, 75 That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. II. 3. \"Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair 80 Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, 85 And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed, Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, And spare the meek usurper's holy head. 90 Above, below, the rose of snow, Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled boar in infant gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, 95 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. Illustration: THE BLOODY TOWER. III. 1. \"Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove. The work is done.) 100 Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn: In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 105 Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our longlost Arthur we bewail. All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail! 110 III. 2. \"Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old In bearded majesty, appear. In the midst a form divine! 115 Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line; Her lionport, her awecommanding face, Attemper'd sweet to virgingrace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air, What strains of vocal transport round her play! 120 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of heaven her manycolour'd wings. III. 3. \"The verse adorn again 125 Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin'd measures move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 130 A voice, as of the cherubchoir, Gales from blooming Eden bear; And distant warblings lessen on my ear, That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud, 135 Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? Tomorrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me; with joy I see The different doom our fates assign. 140 Be thine despair, and sceptred care; To triumph, and to die, are mine.\" He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night. Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH. Illustration HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Greek: Zna Ton phronein brotous hod santa, ti pathei mathan Thenta kuris echein. SCHYLUS, Agam. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain, 5 The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth Virtue, his darling child, design'd, 10 To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore: What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, 15 And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Selfpleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. 20 Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe; By vain Prosperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. Wisdom in sable garb array'd, 25 Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend; Warm Charity, the general friend, 30 With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadlypleasing tear. Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, 35 Not circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen), With thundering voice and threatening mien, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty: 40 Thy form benign, O goddess, wear, Thy milder influence impart; Thy philosophic train be there To soften, not to wound, my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, 45 Teach me to love and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a Man. Illustration: BERKELEY CASTLE. \"Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall recho with affright The shrieks of death thro' Berkeley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing king!\" The Bard, 53. NOTES. LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS. A. S., AngloSaxon. Arc., Milton's Arcades. C. T., Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Cf. (confer), compare. D. V., Goldsmith's Deserted Village. Ep., Epistle, Epode. Foll., following. F. Q., Spenser's Farie Queene. H., Haven's Rhetoric (Harper's edition). Hales, Longer English Poems, edited by Rev. J. W. Hales (London, 1872). Il Pens., Milton's Il Penseroso. L'All., Milton's L'Allegro. Ol., Pindar's Olympian Odes. P. L., Milton's Paradise Lost. P. R., Milton's Paradise Regained. S. A., Milton's Samson Agonistes. Shakes. Gr., Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (the references are to sections, not pages). Shep. Kal., Spenser's Shepherd's Kalendar. st., stanza. Wb., Webster's Dictionary (last revised quarto edition). Worc., Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition). Other abbreviations (names of books in the Bible, plays of Shakespeare, works of Ovid, Virgil, and Horace, etc.) need no explanation. NOTES. Illustration ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. This poem was begun in the year 1742, but was not finished until 1750, when Gray sent it to Walpole with a letter (dated June 12, 1750) in which he says: \"I have been here at Stoke a few days (where I shall continue good part of the summer), and having put an end to a thing, whose beginning you have seen long ago, I immediately send it you. You will, I hope, look upon it in the light of a thing with an end to it: a merit that most of my writings have wanted, and are like to want.\" It was shown in manuscript to some of the author's friends, and was published in 1751 only because it was about to be printed surreptitiously. February 11, 1751, Gray wrote to Walpole that the proprietors of \"the Magazine of Magazines\" were about to publish his Elegy, and added, \"I have but one bad way left to escape the honour they would inflict upon me; and therefore am obliged to desire you would make Dodsley print it immediately (which may be done in less than a week's time) from your copy, but without my name, in what form is most convenient for him, but on his best paper and character; he must correct the press himself,1 and print it without any interval between the stanzas, because the sense is in some places continued beyond them; and the title must be'Elegy, written in a Country Churchyard.' If he would add a line or two to say it came into his hands by accident, I should like it better.\" Walpole did as requested, and wrote an advertisement to the effect that accident alone brought the poem before the public, although an apology was unnecessary to any but the author. On which Gray wrote, \"I thank you for your advertisement, which saves my honour.\" Footnote 1: Dodsley's proofreading must have been somewhat careless, for there are many errors of the press in this editio princeps. Gray writes to Walpole, under date of \"AshWednesday, Cambridge, 1751,\" as follows: \"Nurse Dodsley has given it a pinch or two in the cradle, that (I doubt) it will bear the marks of as long as it lives. But no matter: we have ourselves suffered under her hands before now; and besides, it will only look the more careless and by accident as it were.\" Again, March 3, 1751, he writes: \"I do not expect any more editions; as I have appeared in more magazines than one. The chief errata were sacred for secret; hidden for kindred (in spite of dukes and classics); and 'frowning as in scorn' for smiling. I humbly propose, for the benefit of Mr. Dodsley and his matrons, that take awake in line 92, which at first read \"awake and faithful to her wonted fires\" for a verb, that they should read asleep, and all will be right.\" Other errors were, \"Their harrow oft the stubborn glebe,\" \"And read their destiny in a nation's eyes,\" \"With uncouth rhymes and shapeless culture decked,\" \"Slow through the churchway pass,\" and many of minor importance. A writer in Notes and Queries, June 12, 1875, states that the poem first appeared in the London Magazine, March, 1751, p. 134, and that \"the Magazine of Magazines\" is \"a gentle term of scorn used by Gray to indicate\" that periodical, and not the name of any actual magazine. But in the next number of Notes and Queries (June 19, 1875) Mr. F. Locker informs us that he has in his possession a titlepage of the Grand Magazine of Magazines, and the page of the number for April, 1751, which contains the Elegy. The magazine is said to be \"collected and digested by Roger Woodville, Esq.,\" and \"published by Cooper at the Globe, in Pater Noster Row.\" Gray says nothing in his letters of the appearance of the Elegy in the London Magazine. The full title of that periodical was \"The London Magazine: or Gentleman's Monthly Intelligencer.\" The editor's name was not given; the publisher was \"R. Baldwin, jun. at the Rose in PaterNoster Row.\" The volume for 1751 was the 20th, and the Preface (written at the close of the year) begins thus: \"As the two most formidable Enemies we have ever had, are now extinct, we have great Reason to conclude, that it is only the Merit, and real Usefulness of our COLLECTION, that hath supported its Sale and Reputation for Twenty Years.\" A footnote informs us that the \"Enemies\" are the \"Magazine of Magazines and Grand Magazine of Magazines;\" from which it would appear that there were two periodicals of similar name published in London in 1751.2 Footnote 2: May not the Elegy have been printed in both of these? We do not know how otherwise to reconcile the conflicting statements concerning the \"Magazine of Magazines,\" as Gray calls it. In the first place, Gray appears (from other portions of his letter to Walpole) to be familiar with this magazine, and would not be likely to confound it with another of similar name. Then, as we have seen, he writes early in March to Walpole that the poem has been printed \"in more magazines than one.\" This cannot refer to the Grand Magazine of Magazines, if, as Mr. Locker states, it was the April number of that periodical in which the poem appeared. Nor can it refer to the London Magazine, as it is clear from internal evidence that the March number, containing the Elegy, was not issued until early in April. It contains a summary of current news down to Sunday, March 31, and the price of stocks in the London market for March 30. The February number, in its \"monthly catalogue\" of new books, records the publication of the Elegy by Dodsley thus: \"An Elegy wrote in a Churchyard, pr. 6d. Dodsley.\" If, then, the Elegy did not appear in either the London Magazine or the Grand Magazine of Magazines until more than a month (in the case of the latter, perhaps two months) after Dodsley had issued it, in what magazine was it that it did appear just before he issued it? The N. A. Review says that \"it was a close race between the Magazine and Dodsley; but the former, having a little the start, came out a few days ahead.\" If so, it must have been the March number; or the February one, if it was published, like the London, at the end of the month. Gray calls it \"the Magazine of Magazines,\" and we shall take his word for it until we have reason for doubting it. What else was included in his \"more magazines than one\" we cannot even guess. We have not been able to find the Magazine of Magazines or the Grand Magazine of Magazines in the libraries, and know nothing about either \"of our own knowledge.\" The London Magazine is in the Harvard College Library, and the statements concerning that we can personally vouch for. The author's name is not given with the Elegy as printed in the London Magazine. The poem is sandwiched between an \"Epilogue to Alfred, a Masque\" and some coarse rhymes entitled \"StripMeNaked, or Royal Gin for ever.\" There is not even a printer's \"rule\" or \"dash\" to separate the title of the latter from the last line of the Elegy. The poem is more correctly printed than in Dodsley's authorized edition; though, queerly enough, it has \"winds\" in the second line and the parenthesis \"(all he had)\" in the Epitaph. Of Dodsley's misprints noted above it has only \"Their harrow oft\" and \"shapeless culture.\" These four errors, indeed, are the only ones worth noting, except \"Or wake to extasy the living lyre.\" The \"Magazine of Magazines\" (as the writer in the North American Review tells us) printed the Elegy with the author's name. The authorized though anonymous edition was thus briefly noticed by The Monthly Review, the critical Rhadamanthus of the day: \"An Elegy in a Country Churchyard. 4to. Dodsley's. Seven pages.The excellence of this little piece amply compensates for its want of quantity.\" \"Soon after its publication,\" says Mason, \"I remember, sitting with Mr. Gray in his College apartment, he expressed to me his surprise at the rapidity of its sale. I replied: 'Sunt lacrymae rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt.' He paused awhile, and taking his pen, wrote the line on a printed copy of it lying on his table. 'This,' said he, 'shall be its future motto.' 'Pity,' cried I, 'that Dr. Young's Night Thoughts have preoccupied it.' 'So,' replied he, 'indeed it is.'\" Gray himself tells the story of its success on the margin of the manuscript copy of the Elegy preserved at Cambridge among his papers, and reproduced in facsimile in Mathias's elegant edition of the poet. The following is a careful transcript of the memorandum: \"publish'd in Feb:ry, 1751. by Dodsley:  went thro' four Editions; in two months; and af terwards a fifth 6th 7th  8th 9th  10th  11th printed also in 1753 with Mr Bentley's Designs, of wch there is a 2d Edition  again by Dodsley in his Miscellany, Vol: 4th  in a Scotch Collection call'd the Union. translated into Latin by Chr: Anstey Esq,  the Revd Mr Roberts,  publish'd in 1762;  again in the same year by Rob: Lloyd, M: A:\" \"One peculiar and remarkable tribute to the merit of the Elegy,\" says Professor Henry Reed, \"is to be noticed in the great number of translations which have been made of it into various languages, both of ancient and modern Europe. It is the same kind of tribute which has been rendered to Robinson Crusoe and to The Pilgrim's Progress, and is proof of the same universality of interest, transcending the limits of language and of race. To no poem in the English language has the same kind of homage been paid so abundantly. Of what other poem is there a polyglot edition? Italy and England have competed with their polyglot editions of the Elegy: Torri's, bearing the title, 'Elegia di Tomaso Gray sopra un Cimitero di Campagna, tradotta dall' Inglese in pi lingue: Verona, 1817; Livorno, 1843;' and Van Voorst's London edition.\" Professor Reed adds a list of the translations (which, however, is incomplete), including one in Hebrew, seven in Greek, twelve in Latin, thirteen in Italian, fifteen in French, six in German, and one in Portuguese. \"Had Gray written nothing but his Elegy,\" remarks Byron, \"high as he stands, I am not sure that he would not stand higher; it is the cornerstone of his glory.\" The tribute paid the poem by General Wolfe is familiar to all, but we cannot refrain from quoting Lord Mahon's beautiful account of it in his History of England. On the night of September 13th, 1759, the night before the battle on the Plains of Abraham, Wolfe was descending the St. Lawrence with a part of his troops. The historian says: \"Swiftly, but silently, did the boats fall down with the tide, unobserved by the enemy's sentinels at their posts along the shore. Of the soldiers on board, how eagerly must every heart have throbbed at the coming conflict! how intently must every eye have contemplated the dark outline, as it lay pencilled upon the midnight sky, and as every moment it grew closer and clearer, of the hostile heights! Not a word was spokennot a sound heard beyond the rippling of the stream. Wolfe alonethus tradition has told usrepeated in a low tone to the other officers in his boat those beautiful stanzas with which a country churchyard inspired the muse of Gray. One noble line, 'The paths of glory lead but to the grave,' must have seemed at such a moment fraught with mournful meaning. At the close of the recitation Wolfe added, 'Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec.'\" Hales, in his Introduction to the poem, remarks: \"The Elegy is perhaps the most widely known poem in our language. The reason of this extensive popularity is perhaps to be sought in the fact that it expresses in an exquisite manner feelings and thoughts that are universal. In the current of ideas in the Elegy there is perhaps nothing that is rare, or exceptional, or out of the common way. The musings are of the most rational and obvious character possible; it is difficult to conceive of any one musing under similar circumstances who should not muse so; but they are not the less deep and moving on this account. The mystery of life does not become clearer, or less solemn and awful, for any amount of contemplation. Such inevitable, such everlasting questions as rise on the mind when one lingers in the precincts of Death can never lose their freshness, never cease to fascinate and to move. It is with such questions, that would have been commonplace long ages since if they could ever be so, that the Elegy deals. It deals with them in no lofty philosophical manner, but in a simple, humble, unpretentious way, always with the truest and the broadest humanity. The poet's thoughts turn to the poor; he forgets the fine tombs inside the church, and thinks only of the 'mouldering heaps' in the churchyard. Hence the problem that especially suggests itself is the potential greatness, when they lived, of the 'rude forefathers' that now lie at his feet. He does not, and cannot solve it, though he finds considerations to mitigate the sadness it must inspire; but he expresses it in all its awfulness in the most effective language and with the deepest feeling; and his expression of it has become a living part of our language.\" The writer in the North American Review (vol. 96) from whom we have elsewhere quoted says of the Elegy: \"It is upon this that Gray's fame as a poet must chiefly rest. By this he will be known forever alike to the lettered and the unlettered. Many, in future ages, who may never have heard of his classic Odes, his various learning, or his sparkling letters, will revere him only as the author of the Elegy. For this he will be enshrined through all time in the hearts of the myriads who shall speak our English tongue. For this his name will be held in glad remembrance in the faroff summer isles of the Pacific, and amidst the waste of polar snows. If he had written nothing else, his place as a leading poet in our language would still be assured. Many have asserted, with Johnson, that he was a mere mechanical poetone who brought from without, but never found within; that the gift of inspiration was not native to him; that his imagination was borrowed finery, his fancy tinsel, and his invention the world's wellworn jewels; that whatever in his verse was poetic was not new, and what was new was not poetic; that he was only an unworldly dyspeptic, living amid many books, and laboriously delving for a lifetime between musty covers, picking out now and then another's gems and bits of ore, and fashioning them into illcompacted mosaics, which he wrongly called his own. To all this the Elegy is a sufficient answer. It is not oldit is not bookish; it is new and human. Books could not make its maker: he was born of the divine breath alone. Consider all the commentators, the scholiasts, the interpreters, the annotators, and other like bookworms, from Aristarchus down to Dderlein; and may it not be said that, among them all, 'Nec viget quidquam simile aut secundum?' \"Gray wrote but little, yet he wrote that little well. He might have done far more for us; the same is true of most men, even of the greatest. The possibilities of a life are always in advance of its performance. But we cannot say that his life was a wasted one. Even this little Elegy alone should go for much. For, suppose that he had never written this, but instead had done much else in other ways, according to his powers: that he had written many learned treatises; that he had, with keen criticism, expounded and reconstructed Greek classics; that he had, perchance, sat upon the woolsack, and laid rich offerings at the feet of blind Justice;taking the years together, would it have been, on the whole, better for him or for us? Would he have added so much to the sum of human happiness? He might thus have made himself a power for a time, to be dethroned by some new usurper in the realm of knowledge; now he is a power and a joy forever to countless thousands.\" Two manuscripts of the Elegy, in Gray's handwriting, still exist. Both were bequeathed by the poet, together with his library, letters, and many miscellaneous papers, to his friends the Rev. William Mason and the Rev. James Browne, as joint literary executors. Mason bequeathed the entire trust to Mr. Stonhewer. The latter, in making his will, divided the legacy into two parts. The larger share went to the Master and Fellows of Pembroke Hall. Among the papers, which are still in the possession of the College, was found a copy of the Elegy. An excellent facsimile of this manuscript appears in Mathias's edition of Gray, published in 1814. In referring to it hereafter we shall designate it as the \"Pembroke\" MS. The remaining portion of Gray's literary bequest, including the other manuscript of the Elegy, was left by Mr. Stonhewer to his friend, Mr. Bright. In 1845 Mr. Bright's sons sold the collection at auction. The MS. of the Elegy was bought by Mr. Granville John Penn, of Stoke Park, for one hundred poundsthe highest sum that had ever been known to be paid for a single sheet of paper. In 1854 this manuscript came again into the market, and was knocked down to Mr. Robert Charles Wrightson, of Birmingham, for 131 pounds. On the 29th of May, 1875, it was once more offered for sale in London, and was purchased by Sir William Fraser for 230 pounds, or about 1150. A photographic reproduction of it was published in London in 1862. For convenience we shall refer to it as the \"Wrightson\" MS. There can be little doubt that the Wrightson MS. is the original one, and that the Pembroke MS. is a fair copy made from it by the poet. The former contains a greater number of alterations, and varies more from the printed text. It bears internal evidence of being the rough draft, while the other represents a later stage of the poem. We will give the variations of both from the present version.3 Footnote 3: For the readings of the Wrightson MS. we have had to depend on Mason, Mitford, and other editors of the poem, and on the article in the North American Review, already referred to. The readings of the Pembroke MS. are taken from the engraved facsimile in Mathias's edition. The two stanzas of which a facsimile is given on page 73 are from the Pembroke MS., but the woodcut hardly does justice to the feminine delicacy of the poet's handwriting. The Wrightson MS. has in the first stanza, \"The lowing herd wind slowly,\" etc. See our note on this line, below. In the 2d stanza, it reads, \"And now the air,\" etc. The 5th stanza is as follows: \"For ever sleep: the breezy call of morn, Or swallow twitt'ring from the strawbuilt shed, Or Chanticleer so shrill, or echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.\" In 8th stanza, \"Their rustic joys,\" etc. In 10th stanza, the first two lines read, \"Forgive, ye proud, th' involuntary fault, If memory to these no trophies raise.\" In 12th stanza, \"Hands that the reins of empire,\" etc. In 13th stanza, \"Chill Penury depress'd,\" etc. The 15th stanza reads thus: \"Some village Cato, who, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Tully here may rest, Some Csar guiltless of his country's blood.\"4 Footnote 4: The Saturday Review for June 19, 1875, has a long article on the change made by Gray in this stanza, entitled, \"A Lesson from Gray's Elegy,\" from which we cull the following paragraphs: \"Gray, having first of all put down the names of three Romans as illustrations of his meaning, afterwards deliberately struck them out and put the names of three Englishmen instead. This is a sign of a change in the taste of the age, a change with which Gray himself had a good deal to do. The deliberate wiping out of the names of Cato, Tully, and Csar, to put in the names of Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell, seems to us so obviously a change for the better that there seems to be no room for any doubt about it. It is by no means certain that Gray's own contemporaries would have thought the matter equally clear. We suspect that to many people in his day it must have seemed a daring novelty to draw illustrations from English history, especially from parts of English history which, it must be remembered, were then a great deal more recent than they are now. To be sure, in choosing English illustrations, a poet of Gray's time was in rather a hard strait. If he chose illustrations from the century or two before his own time, he could only choose names which had hardly got free from the strife of recent politics. If, in a poem of the nature of the Elegy, he had drawn illustrations from earlier times of English history, he would have found but few people in his day likely to understand him.... \"The change which Gray made in this wellknown stanza is not only an improvement in a particular poem, it is a sign of a general improvement in taste. He wrote first according to the vicious taste of an earlier time, and he then changed it according to his own better taste. And of that better taste he was undoubtedly a prophet to others. Gray's poetry must have done a great deal to open men's eyes to the fact that they were Englishmen, and that on them, as Englishmen, English things had a higher claim than Roman, and that to them English examples ought to be more speaking than Roman ones. But there is another side of the case not to be forgotten. Those who would have regretted the change from Cato, Tully, and Csar to Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell, those who perhaps really did think that the bringing in of Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell was a degradation of what they would have called the Muse, were certainly not those who had the truest knowledge of Cato, Tully, and Csar. The 'classic' taste from which Gray helped to deliver us was a taste which hardly deserves to be called a taste. Pardonable perhaps in the first heat of the Renaissance, when 'classic' studies and objects had the charm of novelty, it had become by his day a mere silly fashion.\" In 18th stanza, \"Or crown the shrine,\" etc. After this stanza, the MS. has the following four stanzas, now omitted: \"The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow, Exalt the brave, and idolize success; But more to innocence their safety owe Than Pow'r, or Genius, e'er conspir'd to bless. \"And thou who, mindful of the unhonour'd Dead, Dost in these notes their artless tale relate, By night and lonely contemplation led To wander in the gloomy walks of fate: \"Hark! how the sacred Calm, that breathes around, Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease; In still small accents whisp'ring from the ground A grateful earnest of eternal peace. \"No more, with reason and thyself at strife, Give anxious cares and endless wishes room; But through the cool sequester'd vale of life Pursue the silent tenor of thy doom.\"5 Footnote 5: We follow Mason (ed. 1778) in the text of these stanzas. The North American Review has \"Power and Genius\" in the first, and \"linger in the lonely walks\" in the second. The second of these stanzas has been remodelled and used as the 24th of the present version. Mason thought that there was a pathetic melancholy in all four which claimed preservation. The third he considered equal to any in the whole Elegy. The poem was originally intended to end here, the introduction of \"the hoaryheaded swain\" being a happy afterthought. In the 19th stanza, the MS. has \"never learn'd to stray.\" In the 21st stanza, \"fame and epitaph,\" etc. In the 23d stanza, the last line reads, \"And buried ashes glow with social fires.\" \"Social\" subsequently became \"wonted,\" and other changes were made (see p. 74, footnote) before the line took its present form. The 24th stanza reads, \"If chance that e'er some pensive Spirit more, By sympathetic musings here delay'd, With vain, though kind inquiry shall explore Thy oncelov'd haunt, this longdeserted shade.\"6 Footnote 6: Mitford (Eton ed.) gives \"sympathizing\" in the second line, and for the last, \"Thy ever loved hauntthis long deserted shade.\" The latter is obviously wrong (Gray was incapable of such metre), and the former is probably wrong also. The last line of the 25th stanza reads, \"On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn.\" Then comes the following stanza, afterwards omitted: \"Him have we seen the greenwood side along, While o'er the heath we hied, our labour done, Oft as the woodlark pip'd her farewell song, With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun.\"7 Mason remarked: \"I rather wonder that he rejected this stanza, as it not only has the same sort of Doric delicacy which charms us peculiarly in this part of the poem, but also completes the account of his whole day; whereas, this evening scene being omitted, we have only his morning walk, and his noontide repose.\" Footnote 7: Here also we follow Mason; the North American Review reads \"our labours done.\" The first line of the 27th stanza reads, \"With gestures quaint, now smiling as in scorn.\" After the 29th stanza, and before the Epitaph, the MS. contains the following omitted stanza: \"There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen are frequent violets found; The robin loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.\" Thiswith two or three verbal changes only8was inserted in all the editions up to 1753, when it was dropped. The omission was not made from any objection to the stanza in itself, but simply because it was too long a parenthesis in this place; on the principle which he states in a letter to Dr. Beattie: \"As to description, I have always thought that it made the most graceful ornament of poetry, but never ought to make the subject.\" The part was sacrificed for the good of the whole. Mason very justly remarked that \"the lines, however, are in themselves exquisitely fine, and demand preservation.\" Footnote 8: See next page. The writer in the North American Review is our only authority for the stanza as given above. He appears to have had the photographic reproduction of the Wrightson MS., but we cannot vouch for the accuracy of his transcripts from it. The first line of the 31st stanza has \"and his heart sincere.\" The 32d and last stanza is as follows: \"No farther seek his merits to disclose, Nor seek to draw them from their dread abode (His frailties there in trembling hope repose); The bosom of his Father and his God.\"9 Footnote 9: The above are all the variations from the present text in the Wrightson MS. which are noted by the authorities on whom we have depended; but we suspect that the following readings, mentioned by Mitford as in the MS., belong to that MS., as they are not found in the other: in the 7th stanza, \"sickles\" for \"sickle;\" in 18th, \"shrines\" for \"shrine.\" Two others (in stanzas 9th and 27th) are referred to in our account of the Pembroke MS. below. The Pembroke MS. has the following variations from the present version: In the 1st stanza, \"wind\" for \"winds.\" 2d stanza, \"Or drowsy,\" etc. 5th stanza, \"and the ecchoing horn.\" 6th stanza, \"Nor climb his knees.\" 9th stanza, \"Awaits alike.\" Probably this is also the reading of the Wrightson MS. Mitford gives it as noted by Mason, and it is retained by Gray in the ed. of 1768. The 10th stanza begins, \"Forgive, ye Proud, th' involuntary fault If Memory to these,\" etc., the present readings (\"Nor you,\" \"impute to these,\" and \"Mem'ry o'er their tomb\") being inserted in the margin. The 12th stanza has \"reins of empire,\" with \"rod\" in the margin. In the 15th stanza, the word \"lands\" has been crossed out, and \"fields\" written above it. The 17th has \"Or shut the gates,\" etc. In the 21st we have \"fame and epitaph supply.\" The 23d has \"And in our ashes glow,\" the readings \"Ev'n\" and \"live\" being inserted in the margin. The 27th stanza has \"would he rove.\" We suspect that this is also the reading of the Wrightson MS., as Mitford says it is noted by Mason. In the 28th stanza, the first line reads \"from the custom'd hill.\" In the 29th a word which we cannot make out has been erased, and \"aged\" substituted. Before the Epitaph, two asterisks refer to the bottom of the page, where the following stanza is given, with the marginal note, \"Omitted in 1753:\" \"There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the Year, By Hands unseen, are Show'rs of Violets found; The Redbreast loves to build, and warble there, And little Footsteps lightly print the Ground.\" The last two lines of the 31st stanza (see note below) are pointed as follows: \"He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a Tear, He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a Friend.\" Some of the peculiarities of spelling in this MS. are the following: \"Curfeu;\" \"Plowman;\" \"Tinkleings;\" \"mopeing;\" \"ecchoing;\" \"Huswife;\" \"Ile\" (aisle); \"wast\" (waste); \"villageHambden;\" \"Rhimes;\" \"spell't;\" \"chearful;\" \"born\" (borne); etc. Mitford, in his Life of Gray prefixed to the \"Eton\" edition of his Poems (edited by Rev. John Moultrie, 1847), says: \"I possess many curious variations from the printed text, taken from a copy of it in his own handwriting.\" He adds specimens of these variations, a few of which differ from both the Wrightson and Pembroke MSS. We give these in our notes below. See on 12, 24, and 93. Several localities have contended for the honor of being the scene of the Elegy, but the general sentiment has always, and justly, been in favor of StokePogis. It was there that Gray began the poem in 1742; and there, as we have seen, he finished it in 1750. In that churchyard his mother was buried, and there, at his request, his own remains were afterwards laid beside her. The scene is, moreover, in all respects in perfect keeping with the spirit of the poem. According to the common Cambridge tradition, Granchester, a parish about two miles southwest of the University, to which Gray was in the habit of taking his \"constitutional\" daily, is the locality of the poem; and the great bell of St. Mary's is the \"curfew\" of the first stanza. Another tradition makes a similar claim for Madingley, some three miles and a half northwest of Cambridge. Both places have churchyards such as the Elegy describes; and this is about all that can be said in favor of their pretensions. There is also a parish called Burnham Beeches, in Buckinghamshire, which one writer at least has suggested as the scene of the poem, but for no better reason than that Gray once wrote a description of the place to Walpole, and casually mentioned the existence of certain \"beeches,\" at the foot of which he would \"squat,\" and \"there grow to the trunk a whole morning.\" Gray's uncle had a seat in the neighborhood, and the poet often visited here, but the spot was not hallowed to him by the fond and tender associations that gathered about Stoke. 1. The curfew. Hales remarks: \"It is a great mistake to suppose that the ringing of the curfew was, at its institution, a mark of Norman oppression. If such a custom was unknown before the Conquest, it only shows that the old English police was less wellregulated than that of many parts of the Continent, and how much the superior civilization of the NormanFrench was needed. Fires were the curse of the timberbuilt towns of the Middle Ages: 'Solae pestes Londoniae sunt stultorum immodica potatio et frequens incendium' (Fitzstephen). The enforced extinction of domestic lights at an appointed signal was designed to be a safeguard against them.\" Warton wanted to have this line read \"The curfew tolls!the knell of parting day.\" It is sufficient to say that Gray, as the manuscript shows, did not want it to read so, and that we much prefer his way to Warton's. Mitford says that toll is \"not the appropriate verb,\" as the curfew was rung, not tolled. We presume that depended, to some extent, on the fancy of the ringer. Milton (Il Pens. 76) speaks of the curfew as \"Swinging slow with sullen roar.\" Gray himself quotes here Dante, Purgat. 8: \"squilla di lontano Che paia 'l giorno pianger, che si muore;\" and we cannot refrain from adding, for the benefit of those unfamiliar with Italian, Longfellow's exquisite translation: \"from far away a bell That seemeth to deplore the dying day.\" Mitford quotes (incorrectly, as often) Dryden, Prol. to Troilus and Cressida, 22: \"That tolls the knell for their departed sense.\" On partingdeparting, cf. Shakes. Cor. v. 6: \"When I parted hence;\" Goldsmith, D. V. 171: \"Beside the bed where parting life was laid,\" etc. 2. The lowing herd wind, etc. Wind, and not winds, is the reading of the MS. (see facsimile of this stanza on p. 73) and of all the early editionsthat of 1768, Mason's, Wakefield's, Mathias's, etc.but we find no note of the fact in Mitford's or any other of the more recent editions, which have substituted winds. Whether the change was made as an amendment or accidentally, we do not know;10 but the original reading seems to us by far the better one. The poet does not refer to the herd as an aggregate, but to the animals that compose it. He sees, not it, but \"them on their winding way.\" The ordinary reading mars both the meaning and the melody of the line. Footnote 10: Very likely the latter, as we have seen that winds appears in the unauthorized version of the London Magazine (March, 1751), where it may be a misprint, like the others noted above. We may remark here that the edition of 1768the editio princeps of the collected Poemswas issued under Gray's own supervision, and is printed with remarkable accuracy. We have detected only one indubitable error of the type in the entire volume. Certain peculiarities of spelling were probably intentional, as we find the like in the facsimiles of the poet's manuscripts. The many quotations from Greek, Latin, and Italian are correctly given (according to the received texts of the time), and the references to authorities, so far as we have verified them, are equally exact. The book throughout bears the marks of Gray's scholarly and critical habits, and we may be sure that the poems appear in precisely the form which he meant they should retain. In doubtful cases, therefore, we have generally followed this edition. Mason's (the second edition: York, 1778) is also carefully edited and printed, and its readings seldom vary from Gray's. All of Mitford's that we have examined swarm with errors, especially in the notes. Pickering's (1835), edited by Mitford, is perhaps the worst of all. The Boston ed. (Little, Brown,  Co., 1853) is a pretty careful reproduction of Pickering's, with all its inaccuracies. 3. The critic of the N. A. Review points out that this line \"is quite peculiar in its possible transformations. We have made,\" he adds, \"twenty different versions preserving the rhythm, the general sentiment and the rhyming word. Any one of these variations might be, not inappropriately, substituted for the original reading.\" Luke quotes Spenser, F. Q. vi. 7, 39: \"And now she was uppon the weary way.\" 6. Air is of course the object, not the subject of the verb. 7. Save where the beetle, etc. Cf. Collins, Ode to Evening: \"Now air is hush'd, save where the weakeyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum.\" and Macbeth, iii. 2: \"Ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere to black Hecate's summons The shardborne beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night's yawning peal,\" etc. 10. The moping owl. Mitford quotes Ovid, Met. v. 550: \"Ignavus bubo, dirum mortalibus omen;\" Thomson, Winter, 114: \"Assiduous in his bower the wailing owl Plies his sad song;\" and Mallet, Excursion: \"the wailing owl Screams solitary to the mournful moon.\" 12. Her ancient solitary reign. Cf. Virgil, Geo. iii. 476: \"desertaque regna pastorum.\" A MS. variation of this line mentioned by Mitford is, \"Molest and pry into her ancient reign.\" 13. \"As he stands in the churchyard, he thinks only of the poorer people, because the bettertodo lay interred inside the church. Tennyson (In Mem. x.) speaks of resting 'beneath the clover sod That takes the sunshine and the rains, Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of God.' In Gray's time, and long before, and some time after it, the former restingplace was for the poor, the latter for the rich. It was so in the first instance, for two reasons: (i.) the interior of the church was regarded as of great sanctity, and all who could sought a place in it, the most dearly coveted spot being near the high altar; (ii.) when elaborate tombs were the fashion, they were built inside the church for the sake of security, 'gay tombs' being liable to be 'robb'd' (see the funeral dirge in Webster's White Devil). As these two considerations gradually ceased to have power, and other considerations of an opposite tendency began to prevail, the inside of the church became comparatively deserted, except when ancestral reasons gave no choice\" (Hales). 17. Cf. Milton, Arcades, 56: \"the odorous breath of morn;\" P. L. ix. 192: \"Now when as sacred light began to dawn In Eden on the humid flowers that breath'd Their morning incense,\" etc. 18. Hesiod (Greek: Erg. 568) calls the swallow Greek: orthogo chelidn. Cf. Virgil, n. viii. 455: \"Evandrum ex humili tecto lux suscitat alma, Et matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus.\" 19. The cock's shrill clarion. Cf. Philips, Cyder, i. 753: \"When chanticleer with clarion shrill recalls The tardy day;\" Milton, P. L. vii. 443: \"The crested cock, whose clarion sounds The silent hours;\" Hamlet, i. 1: \"The cock that is the trumpet to the morn;\" Quarles, Argalus and Parthenia: \"I slept not till the early buglehorn Of chaunticlere had summon'd in the morn;\" and Thomas Kyd, England's Parnassus: \"The cheerful cock, the sad night's trumpeter, Wayting upon the rising of the sunne; The wandering swallow with her broken song,\" etc. 20. Their lowly bed. Wakefield remarks: \"Some readers, keeping in mind the 'narrow cell' above, have mistaken the 'lowly bed' in this verse for the gravea most puerile and ridiculous blunder;\" and Mitford says: \"Here the epithet 'lowly,' as applied to 'bed,' occasions some ambiguity as to whether the poet meant the bed on which they sleep, or the grave in which they are laid, which in poetry is called a 'lowly bed.' Of course the former is designed; but Mr. Lloyd, in his Latin translation, mistook it for the latter.\" 21. Cf. Lucretius, iii. 894: \"Jam jam non domus accipiet te laeta, neque uxor Optima nee dulces occurrent oscula nati Praeripere et tacita pectus dulcedine tangent;\" and Horace, Epod. ii. 39: \"Quod si pudica mulier in partem juvet Domum atque dulces liberos        Sacrum vetustis exstruat lignis focum Lassi sub adventum viri,\" etc. Mitford quotes Thomson, Winter, 311: \"In vain for him the officious wife prepares The fire fairblazing, and the vestment warm; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire With tears of artless innocence.\" Wakefield cites The Idler, 103: \"There are few things, not purely evil, of which we can say without some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last.\" 22. Ply her evening care. Mitford says, \"To ply a care is an expression that is not proper to our language, and was probably formed for the rhyme share.\" Hales remarks: \"This is probably the kind of phrase which led Wordsworth to pronounce the language of the Elegy unintelligible. Compare his own 'And she I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire.'\" 23. No children run, etc. Hales quotes Burns, Cotter's Saturday Night, 21: \"Th' expectant weethings, toddlin, stacher through To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.\" 24. Among Mitford's MS. variations we find \"coming kiss.\" Wakefield compares Virgil, Geo. ii. 523: \"Interea dulces pendent circum oscula nati;\" and Mitford adds from Dryden, \"Whose little arms about thy legs are cast, And climbing for a kiss prevent their mother's haste.\" Cf. Thomson, Liberty, iii. 171: \"His little children climbing for a kiss.\" 26. The stubborn glebe. Cf. Gay, Fables, ii. 15: \"'Tis mine to tame the stubborn glebe.\" Brokebroken, as often in poetry, especially in the Elizabethan writers. See Abbott, Shakes. Gr. 343. 27. Drive their team afield. Cf. Lycidas, 27: \"We drove afield;\" and Dryden, Virgil's Ecl. ii. 38: \"With me to drive afield.\" 28. Their sturdy stroke. Cf. Spenser, Shep. Kal. Feb.: \"But to the roote bent his sturdy stroake, And made many wounds in the wast wasted Oake;\" and Dryden, Geo. iii. 639: \"Labour him with many a sturdy stroke.\" 30. As Mitford remarks, obscure and poor make \"a very imperfect rhyme;\" and the same might be said of toil and smile. 33. Mitford suggests that Gray had in mind these verses from his friend West's Monody on Queen Caroline: \"Ah, me! what boots us all our boasted power, Our golden treasure, and our purple state; They cannot ward the inevitable hour, Nor stay the fearful violence of fate.\" Hurd compares Cowley: \"Beauty, and strength, and wit, and wealth, and power, Have their short flourishing hour; And love to see themselves, and smile, And joy in their preeminence a while: Even so in the same land Poor weeds, rich corn, gay flowers together stand; Alas! Death mows down all with an impartial hand.\" 35. Awaits. The reading of the ed. of 1768, as of the Pembroke (and probably the other) MS. Hour is the subject, not the object, of the verb. 36. Hayley, in the Life of Crashaw, Biographia Britannica, says that this line is \"literally translated from the Latin prose of Bartholinus in his Danish Antiquities.\" 39. Fretted. The fret is, strictly, an ornament used in classical architecture, formed by small fillets intersecting each other at right angles. Parker (Glossary of Architecture) derives the word from the Latin fretum, a strait; and Hales from ferrum, iron, through the Italian ferrata, an iron grating. It is more likely (see Stratmann and Wb.) from the A. S. frtu, an ornament. Cf. Hamlet, ii. 2: \"This majestical roof fretted with golden fire;\" and Cymbeline, ii. 4: \"The roof o' the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted.\" 40. The pealing anthem. Cf. Il Penseroso, 161: \"There let the pealing organ blow To the fullvoiced quire below, In service high, and anthem clear,\" etc. 41. Storied urn. Cf. Il Pens. 159: \"storied windows richly dight.\" On animated bust, cf. Pope, Temple of Fame, 73: \"Heroes in animated marble frown;\" and Virgil, n. vi. 847: \"spirantia aera.\" 43. Provoke. Mitford considers this use of the word \"unusually bold, to say the least.\" It is simply the etymological meaning, to call forth (Latin, provocare). See Wb. Cf. Pope, Ode: \"But when our country's cause provokes to arms.\" 44. Dull cold ear. Cf. Shakes. Hen. VIII. iii. 2: \"And sleep in dull, cold marble.\" 46. Pregnant with celestial fire. This phrase has been copied by Cowper in his Boadicea, which is said (see notes of \"Globe\" ed.) to have been written after reading Hume's History, in 1780: \"Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre.\" 47. Mitford quotes Ovid, Ep. v. 86: \"Sunt mihi quas possint sceptra decere manus.\" 48. Living lyre. Cf. Cowley: \"Begin the song, and strike the living lyre;\" and Pope, Windsor Forest, 281: \"Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?\" 50. Cf. Browne, Religio Medici: \"Rich with the spoils of nature.\" 51. \"Rage is often used in the postElizabethan writers of the 17th century, and in the 18th century writers, for inspiration, enthusiasm\" (Hales). Cf. Cowley: \"Who brought green poesy to her perfect age, And made that art which was a rage?\" and Tickell, Prol.: \"How hard the task! How rare the godlike rage!\" Cf. also the use of the Latin rabies for the \"divine afflatus,\" as in neid, vi. 49. 53. Full many a gem, etc. Cf. Bishop Hall, Contemplations: \"There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowells of the earth, many a fair pearle in the bosome of the sea, that never was seene, nor never shall bee.\" Purest ray serene. As Hales remarks, this is a favourite arrangement of epithets with Milton. Cf. Hymn on Nativity: \"flowerinwoven tresses torn;\" Comus: \"beckoning shadows dire;\" \"every alley green,\" etc.; L'Allegro: \"native woodnotes wild;\" Lycidas: \"sad occasion dear;\" \"blest kingdoms meek,\" etc. 55. Full many a flower, etc. Cf. Pope, Rape of the Lock, iv. 158: \"Like roses that in deserts bloom and die.\" Mitford cites Chamberlayne, Pharonida, ii. 4: \"Like beauteous flowers which vainly waste their scent Of odours in unhaunted deserts;\" and Young, Univ. Pass. sat. v.: \"In distant wilds, by human eyes unseen, She rears her flowers, and spreads her velvet green; Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace, And waste their music on the savage race;\" and Philip, Thule: \"Like woodland flowers, which paint the desert glades, And waste their sweets in unfrequented shades.\" Hales quotes Waller's \"Go, lovely rose, Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide Thou must have uncommended died.\" On desert air, cf. Macbeth, iv. 3: \"That would be howl'd out in the desert air.\" 57. It was in 1636 that John Hampden, of Buckinghamshire (a cousin of Oliver Cromwell), refused to pay the shipmoney tax which Charles I. was levying without the authority of Parliament. 58. Little tyrant. Cf. Thomson, Winter: \"With open freedom little tyrants raged.\" The artists who have illustrated this passage (see, for instance, Favourite English Poems, p. 305, and Harper's Monthly, vol. vii. p. 3) appear to understand \"little\" as equivalent to juvenile. If that had been the meaning, the poet would have used some other phrase than \"of his fields,\" or \"his lands,\" as he first wrote it. 59. Some mute inglorious Milton. Cf. Phillips, preface to Theatrum Poetarum: \"Even the very names of some who having perhaps been comparable to Homer for heroic poesy, or to Euripides for tragedy, yet nevertheless sleep inglorious in the crowd of the forgotten vulgar.\" 60. Some Cromwell, etc. Hales remarks: \"The prejudice against Cromwell was extremely strong throughout the 18th century, even amongst the more liberalminded. That cloud of 'detractions rude,' of which Milton speaks in his noble sonnet to our 'chief of men' as in his own day enveloping the great republican leader, still lay thick and heavy over him. His wise statesmanship, his unceasing earnestness, his highminded purpose, were not yet seen.\" After this stanza Thomas Edwards, the author of the Canons of Criticism, would add the following, to supply what he deemed a defect in the poem: \"Some lovely fair, whose unaffected charms Shone with attraction to herself alone; Whose beauty might have bless'd a monarch's arms, Whose virtue cast a lustre on a throne. \"That humble beauty warm'd an honest heart, And cheer'd the labours of a faithful spouse; That virtue form'd for every decent part The healthful offspring that adorn'd their house.\" Edwards was an able critic, but it is evident that he was no poet. 63. Mitford quotes Tickell: \"To scatter blessings o'er the British land;\" and Mrs. Behn: \"Is scattering plenty over all the land.\" 66. Their growing virtues. That is, the growth of their virtues. 67. To wade through slaughter, etc. Cf. Pope, Temp. of Fame, 347: \"And swam to empire through the purple flood.\" 68. Cf. Shakes. Hen. V. iii. 3: \"The gates of mercy shall be all shut up.\" 70. To quench the blushes, etc. Cf. Shakes. W. T. iv. 3: \"Come, quench your blushes, and present yourself.\" 73. Far from the madding crowd's, etc. Rogers quotes Drummond: \"Far from the madding worldling's hoarse discords.\" Mitford points out \"the ambiguity of this couplet, which indeed gives a sense exactly contrary to that intended; to avoid which one must break the grammatical construction.\" The poet's meaning is, however, clear enough. 75. Wakefield quotes Pope, Epitaph on Fenton: \"Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace.\" 77. These bones. \"The bones of these. So is is often used in Latin, especially by Livy, as in v. 22: 'Ea sola pecunia,' the money derived from that sale, etc.\" (Hales). 84. That teach. Mitford censures teach as ungrammatical; but it may be justified as a \"construction according to sense.\" 85. Hales remarks: \"At the first glance it might seem that to dumb Forgetfulness a prey was in apposition to who, and the meaning was, 'Who that now lies forgotten,' etc.; in which case the second line of the stanza must be closely connected with the fourth; for the question of the passage is not 'Who ever died?' but 'Who ever died without wishing to be remembered?' But in this way of interpreting this difficult stanza (i.) there is comparatively little force in the appositional phrase, and (ii.) there is a certain awkwardness in deferring so long the clause (virtually adverbal though apparently cordinate) in which, as has just been noticed, the point of the question really lies. Perhaps therefore it is better to take the phrase to dumb Forgetfulness a prey as in fact the completion of the predicate resign'd, and interpret thus: Who ever resigned this life of his with all its pleasures and all its pains to be utterly ignored and forgotten?who ever, when resigning it, reconciled himself to its being forgotten? In this case the second half of the stanza echoes the thought of the first half.\" We give the note in full, and leave the reader to take his choice of the two interpretations. For ourself, we incline to the first rather than the second. We prefer to take to dumb Forgetfulness a prey as appositional and proleptic, and not as the grammatical complement of resigned: Who, yielding himself up a prey to dumb Forgetfulness, ever resigned this life without casting a longing, lingering look behind? 90. Pious is used in the sense of the Latin pius. Ovid has \"piae lacrimae.\" Mitford quotes Pope, Elegy on an Unfortunate Lady, 49: \"No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier; By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd.\" \"In this stanza,\" says Hales, \"he answers in an exquisite manner the two questions, or rather the one question twice repeated, of the preceding stanza.... What he would say is that every one while a spark of life yet remains in him yearns for some kindly loving remembrance; nay, even after the spark is quenched, even when all is dust and ashes, that yearning must still be felt.\" 91, 92. Mitford paraphrases the couplet thus: \"The voice of Nature still cries from the tomb in the language of the epitaph inscribed upon it, which still endeavours to connect us with the living; the fires of former affection are still alive beneath our ashes.\" Cf. Chaucer, C. T. 3880: \"Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.\" Gray himself quotes Petrarch, Sonnet 169: \"Ch'i veggio nel pensier, dolce mio fuoco, Fredda una lingua e due begli occhi chiusi, Rimaner doppo noi pien di faville,\" translated by Nott as follows: \"These, my sweet fair, so warns prophetic thought, Clos'd thy bright eye, and mute thy poet's tongue, E'en after death shall still with sparks be fraught,\" the \"these\" meaning his love and his songs concerning it. Gray translated this sonnet into Latin elegiacs, the last line being rendered, \"Ardebitque urna multa favilla mea.\" 93. On a MS. variation of this stanza given by Mitford, see p. 80, footnote. 95. Chance is virtually an adverb here  perchance. 98. The peep of dawn. Mitford quotes Comus, 138: \"Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on the Indian steep From her cabin'd loophole peep.\" 99. Cf. Milton, P. L. v. 428: \"though from off the boughs each morn We brush mellifluous dews;\" and Arcades, 50: \"And from the boughs brush off the evil dew.\" Wakefield quotes Thomson, Spring, 103: \"Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the bent brush, as through the verdant maze Of sweetbrier hedges I pursue my walk.\" 100. Upland lawn. Cf. Milton, Lycidas, 25: \"Ere the high lawns appear'd Under the opening eyelids of the morn.\" In L'Allegro, 92, we have \"upland hamlets,\" where Hales thinks \"uplandcountry, as opposed to town.\" He adds, \"Gray in his Elegy seems to use the word loosely for 'on the higher ground;' perhaps he took it from Milton, without quite understanding in what sense Milton uses it.\" We doubt whether Hales understands Milton here. It is true that upland used to mean country, as uplanders meant countrymen, and uplandish countrified (see Nares and Wb.), but the other meaning is older than Milton (see Halliwell's Dict. of Archaic Words), and Johnson, Keightley, and others are probably right in considering \"upland hamlets\" an instance of it. Masson, in his recent edition of Milton (1875), explains the \"upland hamlets\" as \"little villages among the slopes, away from the rivermeadows and the haymaking.\" 101. As Mitford remarks, beech and stretch form an imperfect rhyme. 102. Luke quotes Spenser, Ruines of Rome, st. 28: \"Shewing her wreathed rootes and naked armes.\" 103. His listless length. Hales compares King Lear, i. 4: \"If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry.\" Cf. also Brittain's Ida (formerly ascribed to Spenser, but rejected by the best editors), iii. 2: \"Her goodly length stretcht on a lillybed.\" 104. Cf. Thomson, Spring, 644: \"divided by a babbling brook;\" and Horace, Od. iii. 13, 15: \"unde loquaces Lymphae desiliunt tuae.\" Wakefield quotes As You Like It, ii. 1: \"As he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this road.\" 105. Smiling as in scorn. Cf. Shakes. Pass. Pilgrim, 14: \"Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether.\" and Skelton, Prol. to B. of C.: \"Smylynge half in scorne At our foly.\" 107. Woefulwan. Mitford says: \"Woefulwan is not a legitimate compound, and must be divided into two separate words, for such they are, when released from the handcuffs of the hyphen.\" The hyphen is not in the edition of 1768, and we should omit it if it were not found in the Pembroke MS. Wakefield quotes Spenser, Shep. Kal. Jan.: \"For pale and wanne he was (alas the while!) May seeme he lovd, or els some care he tooke.\" 108. \"Hopeless is here used in a proleptic or anticipatory way\" (Hales). 109. Custom'd is Gray's word, not 'custom'd, as usually printed. See either Wb. or Worc. s. v. Cf. Milton, Ep. Damonis: \"Simul assueta seditque sub ulmo.\" 114. Churchway path. Cf. Shakes. M. N. D. v. 2: \"Now it is the time of night, That the graves all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite In the churchway paths to glide.\" 115. For thou canst read. The \"hoaryheaded swain\" of course could not read. 116. Grav'd. The old form of the participle is graven, but graved is also in good use. The old preterite grove is obsolete. 117. The lap of earth. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. v. 7, 9: \"For other beds the Priests there used none, But on their mother Earths deare lap did lie;\" and Milton, P. L. x. 777: \"How glad would lay me down, As in my mother's lap!\" Lucretius (i. 291) has \"gremium matris terrai.\" Mitford adds the pathetic sentence of Pliny, Hist. Nat. ii. 63: \"Nam terra novissime complexa gremio jam a reliqua natura abnegatos, tum maxime, ut mater, operit.\" 123. He gave to misery all he had, a tear. This is the pointing of the line in the MSS. and in all the early editions except that of Mathias, who seems to be responsible for the change (adopted by the recent editors, almost without exception) to, \"He gave to Misery (all he had) a tear.\" This alters the meaning, mars the rhythm, and spoils the sentiment. If one does not see the difference at once, it would be useless to try to make him see it. Mitford, who ought to have known better, not only thrusts in the parenthesis, but quotes this from Pope's Homer as an illustration of it: \"His fame ('tis all the dead can have) shall live.\" 126. Mitford says that Or in this line should be Nor. Yes, if \"draw\" is an imperative, like \"seek;\" no, if it is an infinitive, in the same construction as \"to disclose.\" That the latter was the construction the poet had in mind is evident from the form of the stanza in the Wrightson MS., where \"seek\" is repeated: \"No farther seek his merits to disclose, Nor seek to draw them from their dread abode.\" 127. In trembling hope. Gray quotes Petrarch, Sonnet 104: \"paventosa speme.\" Cf. Lucan, Pharsalia, vii. 297: \"Spe trepido;\" Mallet, Funeral Hymn, 473: \"With trembling tenderness of hope and fear;\" and Beaumont, Psyche, xv. 314: \"Divided here twixt trembling hope and fear.\" Hooker (Eccl. Pol. i.) defines hope as \"a trembling expectation of things far removed.\" Illustration ODE ON THE SPRING. The original manuscript title of this ode was \"Noontide.\" It was first printed in Dodsley's Collection, vol. ii. p. 271, under the title of \"Ode.\" 1. The rosybosom'd Hours. Cf. Milton, Comus, 984: \"The Graces and the rosybosom'd Hours;\" and Thomson, Spring, 1007: \"The rosybosom'd Spring To weeping Fancy pines.\" The Hor, or hours, according to the Homeric idea, were the goddesses of the seasons, the course of which was symbolically represented by \"the dance of the Hours.\" They were often described, in connection with the Graces, Hebe, and Aphrodite, as accompanying with their dancing the songs of the Muses and the lyre of Apollo. Long after the time of Homer they continued to be regarded as the givers of the seasons, especially spring and autumn, or \"Nature in her bloom and her maturity.\" At first there were only two Hor, Thallo (or Spring) and Karpo (or Autumn); but later the number was three, like that of the Graces. In art they are represented as blooming maidens, bearing the products of the seasons. 2. Fair Venus' train. The Hours adorned Aphrodite (Venus) as she rose from the sea, and are often associated with her by Homer, Hesiod, and other classical writers. Wakefield remarks: \"Venus is here employed, in conformity to the mythology of the Greeks, as the source of creation and beauty.\" 3. Longexpecting. Waiting long for the spring. Sometimes incorrectly printed \"longexpected.\" Cf. Dryden, Astra Redux, 132: \"To flowers that in its womb expecting lie.\" 4. The purple year. Cf. the Pervigilium Veneris, 13: \"Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus;\" Pope, Pastorals, i. 28: \"And lavish Nature paints the purple year;\" and Mallet, Zephyr: \"Gales that wake the purple year.\" 5. The Attic warbler. The nightingale, called \"the Attic bird,\" either because it was so common in Attica, or from the old legend that Philomela (or, as some say, Procne), the daughter of a king of Attica, was changed into a nightingale. Cf. Milton's description of Athens (P. R. iv. 245): \"where the Attic bird Trills her thickwarbled notes the summer long.\" Cf. Ovid, Hal. 110: \"Attica avis verna sub tempestate queratus;\" and Propertius, ii. 16, 6: \"Attica volucris.\" Pours her throat is a metonymy. H. p. 85. Cf. Pope, Essay on Man, iii. 33: \"Is it for thee the linnet pours her throat?\" 6, 7. Cf. Thomson, Spring, 577: \"From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, The symphony of spring.\" 9, 10. Cf. Milton, Comus, 989: \"And west winds with musky wing About the cedarn alleys fling Nard and cassia's balmy smells.\" 12. Cf. Milton, P. L. iv. 245: \"Where the unpierc'd shade Imbrown'd the noontide bowers;\" Pope, Eloisa, 170: \"And breathes a browner horror on the woods;\" Thomson, Castle of Indolence, i. 38: \"Or Autumn's varied shades imbrown the walls.\" According to Ruskin (Modern Painters, vol. iii. p. 241, Amer. ed.) there is no brown in nature. After remarking that Dante \"does not acknowledge the existence of the colour of brown at all,\" he goes on to say: \"But one day, just when I was puzzling myself about this, I happened to be sitting by one of our best living modern colourists, watching him at his work, when he said, suddenly and by mere accident, after we had been talking about other things, 'Do you know I have found that there is no brown in nature? What we call brown is always a variety either of orange or purple. It never can be represented by umber, unless altered by contrast.' It is curious how far the significance of this remark extends, how exquisitely it illustrates and confirms the medival sense of hue,\" etc. 14. O'ercanopies the glade. Gray himself quotes Shakes. M. N. D. ii. 1: \"A bank o'ercanopied with luscious woodbine.\"1 Cf. Fletcher, Purple Island, i. 5, 30: \"The beech shall yield a cool, safe canopy;\" and Milton, Comus, 543: \"a bank, With ivy canopied.\" Footnote 1: The reading of the folio of 1623 is: \"I know a banke where the wilde time blowes, Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes, Quite ouercannoped with luscious woodbine.\" Dyce and some other modern editors read, \"Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine.\" 15. Rushy brink. Cf. Comus, 890: \"By the rushyfringed bank.\" 19, 20. These lines, as first printed, read: \"How low, how indigent the proud! How little are the great!\" 22. The panting herds. Cf. Pope, Past. ii. 87: \"To closer shades the panting flocks remove.\" 23. The peopled air. Cf. Walton, C. A.: \"Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing;\" Beaumont, Psyche: \"Every tree empeopled was with birds of softest throats.\" 24. The busy murmur. Cf. Milton, P. R. iv. 248: \"bees' industrious murmur.\" 25. The insect youth. Perhaps suggested by a line in Green's Hermitage, quoted in a letter of Gray to Walpole: \"From maggotyouth through change of state,\" etc. See on 31 below. 26. The honied spring. Cf. Milton, Il Pens. 142: \"the bee with honied thigh;\" and Lyc. 140: \"the honied showers.\" \"There has of late arisen,\" says Johnson in his Life of Gray, \"a practice of giving to adjectives derived from substantives the termination of participles, such as the cultured plain, the daisied bank; but I am sorry to see in the lines of a scholar like Gray the honied spring.\" But, as we have seen, honied is found in Milton; and Shakespeare also uses it in Hen. V. i. 1: \"honey'd sentences.\" Mellitus is used by Cicero, Horace, and Catullus. The editor of an English dictionary, as Lord Grenville has remarked, ought to know \"that the ready conversion of our substances into verbs, participles, and participial adjectives is of the very essence of our tongue, derived from its Saxon origin, and a main source of its energy and richness.\" 27. The liquid noon. Gray quotes Virgil, Geo. iv. 59: \"Nare per aestatem liquidam.\" 30. Quickglancing to the sun. Gray quotes Milton, P. L. vii. 405: \"Sporting with quick glance, Show to the sun their waved coats dropt with gold.\" 31. Gray here quotes Green, Grotto: \"While insects from the threshold preach.\" In a letter to Walpole, he says: \"I send you a bit of a thing for two reasons: first, because it is of one of your favourites, Mr. M. Green; and next, because I would do justice. The thought on which my second Ode turns this Ode, afterwards placed first by Gray is manifestly stole from hence; not that I knew it at the time, but having seen this many years before, to be sure it imprinted itself on my memory, and, forgetting the Author, I took it for my own.\" Then comes the quotation from Green's Grotto. The passage referring to the insects is as follows: \"To the mind's ear, and inward sight, There silence speaks, and shade gives light: While insects from the threshold preach, And minds dispos'd to musing teach; Proud of strong limbs and painted hues, They perish by the slightest bruise; Or maladies begun within Destroy more slow life's frail machine: From maggotyouth, thro' change of state, They feel like us the turns of fate: Some born to creep have liv'd to fly, And chang'd earth's cells for dwellings high: And some that did their six wings keep, Before they died, been forc'd to creep. They politics, like ours, profess; The greater prey upon the less. Some strain on foot huge loads to bring, Some toil incessant on the wing: Nor from their vigorous schemes desist Till death; and then they are never mist. Some frolick, toil, marry, increase, Are sick and well, have war and peace; And broke with age in half a day, Yield to successors, and away.\" 47. Painted plumage. Cf. Pope, Windsor Forest, 118: \"His painted wings; and Milton, P. L. vii. 433: \"From branch to branch the smaller birds with song Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings.\" See also Virgil, Geo. iii. 243, and n. iv. 525: \"pictaeque volucres;\" and Phdrus, Fab. iii. 18: \"pictisque plumis.\" Illustration ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT. This ode first appeared in Dodsley's Collection, vol. ii. p. 274, with some variations noticed below. Walpole, after the death of Gray, placed the china vase on a pedestal at Strawberry Hill, with a few lines of the ode for an inscription. In a letter to Walpole, dated March 1, 1747, Gray refers to the subject of the ode in the following jocose strain: \"As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a compliment of condolence, it would be a sensible satisfaction to me (before I testify my sorrow, and the sincere part I take in your misfortune) to know for certain who it is I lament. I knew Zara and Selima (Selima, was it? or Fatima?), or rather I knew them both together; for I cannot justly say which was which. Then as to your handsome Cat, the name you distinguish her by, I am no less at a loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one likes best; or if one be alive and the other dead, it is usually the latter that is the handsomest. Besides, if the point were never so clear, I hope you do not think me so illbred or so imprudent as to forfeit all my interest in the survivor; oh no! I would rather seem to mistake, and imagine to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with this sad accident. Till this affair is a little better determined, you will excuse me if I do not begin to cry, Tempus inane peto, requiem spatiumque doloris. \"... Heigh ho! I feel (as you to be sure have done long since) that I have very little to say, at least in prose. Somebody will be the better for it; I do not mean you, but your Cat, feu Mademoiselle Selime, whom I am about to immortalize for one week or fortnight, as follows: the Ode follows, which we need not reprint here. \"There's a poem for you, it is rather too long for an Epitaph.\" 2. Cf. Lady M. W. Montagu, Town Eclogues: \"Where the tall jar erects its stately pride, With antic shapes in China's azure dyed.\" 3. The azure flowers that blow. Johnson and Wakefield find fault with this as redundant, but it is no more so than poetic usage allows. In the Progress of Poesy, i. 1, we have again: \"The laughing flowers that round them blow.\" Cf. Comus, 992: \"Iris there with humid bow Waters the odorous banks that blow Flowers of more mingled hue Than her purfled scarf can shew.\" 4. Tabby. For the derivation of this word from the French tabis, a kind of silk, see Wb. In the first ed. the 5th line preceded the 4th. 6. The lake. In the mockheroic vein that runs through the whole poem. 11. Jet. This word comes, through the French, from Gagai, a town in Lycia, where the mineral was first obtained. 14. Two angel forms. In the first ed. \"two beauteous forms,\" which Mitford prefers to the present reading, \"as the images of angel and genii interfere with each other, and bring different associations to the mind.\" 16. Tyrian hue. Explained by the \"purple\" in next line; an allusion to the famous Tyrian dye of the ancients. Cf. Pope, Windsor Forest, 142: \"with fins of Tyrian dye.\" 17. Cf. Virgil, Geo. iv. 274: \"Aureus ipse; sed in foliis, quae plurima circum Funduntur, violae sublucet purpura nigrae.\" See also Pope, Windsor Forest, 332: \"His shining horns diffus'd a golden glow;\" Temple of Fame, 253: \"And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.\" 24. In the 1st ed. \"What cat's a foe to fish?\" and in the next line, \"with eyes intent.\" 31. Eight times. Alluding to the proverbial \"nine lives\" of the cat. 34. No dolphin came. An allusion to the story of Arion, who when thrown overboard by the sailors for the sake of his wealth was borne safely to land by a dolphin. No Nereid stirr'd. Cf. Milton, Lycidas, 50: \"Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Closed o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas?\" 35, 36. The reading of 1st ed. is, \"Nor cruel Tom nor Harry heard. What favourite has a friend?\" 40. The 1st ed. has \"Not all that strikes,\" etc. 42. Nor all that glisters gold. A favourite proverb with the old English poets. Cf. Chaucer, C. T. 16430: \"But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told;\" Spenser, F. Q. ii. 8, 14: \"Yet gold all is not, that doth golden seeme;\" Shakes. M. of V. ii. 7: \"All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told;\" Dryden, Hind and Panther: \"All, as they say, that glitters is not gold.\" Other examples might be given. Glisten is not found in Shakes. or Milton, but both use glister several times. See W. T. iii. 2; Rich. II. iii. 3; T. A. ii. 1, etc.; Lycidas, 79; Comus, 219; P. L. iii. 550; iv. 645, 653, etc. Illustration: ETON COLLEGE. ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. This, as Mason informs us, was the first English1 production of Gray's that appeared in print. It was published, in folio, in 1747; and appeared again in Dodsley's Collection, vol. ii. p. 267, without the name of the author. Footnote 1: A Latin poem by him, a \"Hymeneal\" on the Prince of Wales's Marriage, had appeared in the Cambridge Collection in 1736. Hazlitt (Lectures on English Poets) says of this Ode: \"It is more mechanical and commonplace than the Elegy; but it touches on certain strings about the heart, that vibrate in unison with it to our latest breath. No one ever passes by Windsor's 'stately heights,' or sees the distant spires of Eton College below, without thinking of Gray. He deserves that we should think of him; for he thought of others, and turned a trembling, everwatchful ear to 'the still sad music of humanity.'\" The writer in the North American Review (vol. xcvi.), after referring to the publication of this Ode, which, \"according to the custom of the time, was judiciously swathed in folio,\" adds: \"About this time Gray's portrait was painted, at Walpole's request; and on the paper which he is represented as holding, Walpole wrote the title of the Ode, with a line from Lucan: 'Nec licuit populis parvum te, Nile, videre.' The poem met with very little attention until it was republished in 1751, with a few other of his Odes. Gray, in speaking of it to Walpole, in connection with the Ode to Spring, merely says that to him 'the latter seems not worse than the former.' But the former has always been the greater favouriteperhaps more from the matter than the manner. It is the expression of the memories, the thoughts, and the feelings which arise unbidden in the mind of the man as he looks once more on the scenes of his boyhood. He feels a new youth in the presence of those old joys. But the old friends are not there. Generations have come and gone, and an unknown race now frolic in boyish glee. His sad, prophetic eye cannot help looking into the future, and comparing these careless joys with the inevitable ills of life. Already he sees the fury passions in wait for their little victims. They seem present to him, like very demons. Our language contains no finer, more graphic personifications than these almost tangible shapes. Spenser is more circumstantial, Collins more vehement, but neither is more real. Though but outlines in miniature, they are as distinct as Dutch art. Every epithet is a lifelike picture; not a word could be changed without destroying the tone of the whole. At last the musing poet asks himself, Cui bono? Why thus borrow trouble from the future? Why summon so soon the coming locusts, to poison before their time the glad waters of youth? 'Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late. And happiness too quickly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more;where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.' So feeling and the want of feeling come together for once in the moral. The gay Roman satiristthe apostle of indifferentismreaches the same goal, though he has travelled a different road. To Thaliarchus he says: 'Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere: et Quem Fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro Appone.' The same easygoing philosophy of life forms the keynote of the Ode to Leucono: 'Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero;' of that to Quinctius Hirpinus: 'Quid aeternis minorem Consiliis animum fatigas?' of that to Pompeius Grosphus: 'Laetus in praesens animus, quod ultra est, Oderit curare.' And so with many others. 'Take no thought of the morrow.'\" Wakefield translates the Greek motto, \"Man is an abundant subject of calamity.\" 2. That crown the watery glade. Cf. Pope, Windsor Forest, 128: \"And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade.\" 4. Her Henry's holy shade. Henry the Sixth, founder of the college. Cf. The Bard, ii. 3: \"the meek usurper's holy head;\" Shakes. Rich. III. v. 1: \"Holy King Henry;\" Id. iv. 4: \"When holy Harry died.\" The king, though never canonized, was regarded as a saint. 5. And ye. Ye \"towers;\" that is, of Windsor Castle. Cf. Thomson, Summer, 1412: \"And now to where Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow.\" 8. Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among. \"That is, the turf of whose lawn, the shade of whose groves, the flowers of whose mead\" (Wakefield). Cf. Hamlet, iii. 1: \"The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword.\" In AngloSaxon and Early English prepositions were often placed after their objects. In the Elizabethan period the transposition of the weaker prepositions was not allowed, except in the compounds whereto, herewith, etc. (cf. the Latin quocum, secum), but the longer forms were still, though rarely, transposed (see Shakes. Gr. 203); and in more recent writers this latter license is extremely rare. Even the use of the preposition after the relative, which was very common in Shakespeare's day, is now avoided, except in colloquial style. 9. The hoary Thames. The rivergod is pictured in the old classic fashion. Cf. Milton, Lycidas, 103: \"Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow.\" See also quotation from Dryden in note on 21 below. Illustration: THE RIVERGOD TIBER. 10. His silverwinding way. Cf. Thomson, Summer, 1425: \"The matchless vale of Thames, Fairwinding up,\" etc. 12. Ah, fields belov'd in vain! Mitford remarks that this expression has been considered obscure, and adds the following explanation: \"The poem is written in the character of one who contemplates this life as a scene of misfortune and sorrow, from whose fatal power the brief sunshine of youth is supposed to be exempt. The fields are beloved as the scene of youthful pleasures, and as affording the promise of happiness to come; but this promise never was fulfilled. Fate, which dooms man to misery, soon overclouded these opening prospects of delight. That is in vain beloved which does not realize the expectations it held out. No fruit but that of disappointment has followed the blossoms of a thoughtless hope.\" 13. Where once my careless childhood stray'd. Wakefield cites Thomson, Winter, 6: \"with frequent foot Pleas'd have I, in my cheerful morn of life, When nurs'd by careless Solitude I liv'd, And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, Pleas'd have I wander'd,\" etc. 15. That from ye blow. In Early English ye is nominative, you accusative (objective). This distinction, though observed in our version of the Bible, was disregarded by Elizabethan writers (Shakes. Gr. 236), as it has occasionally been by the poets even to our own day. Cf. Shakes. Hen. VIII. iii. 1: \"The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye;\" Milton, Comus, 216: \"I see ye visibly,\" etc. Dryden, in a couplet quoted by Guest, uses both forms in the same line: \"What gain you by forbidding it to tease ye? It now can neither trouble you nor please ye.\" 19. Gray quotes Dryden, Fable on Pythag. Syst.: \"And bees their honey redolent of spring.\" 21. Say, father Thames, etc. This invocation is taken from Green's Grotto: \"Say, father Thames, whose gentle pace Gives leave to view, what beauties grace Your flowery banks, if you have seen.\" Cf. Dryden, Annus Mirabilis, st. 232: \"Old father Thames raised up his reverend head.\" Dr. Johnson, in his hypercritical comments on this Ode, says: \"His supplication to Father Thames, to tell him who drives the hoop or tosses the ball, is useless and puerile. Father Thames has no better means of knowing than himself.\" To which Mitford replies by asking, \"Are we by this rule to judge the following passage in the twentieth chapter of Rasselas? 'As they were sitting together, the princess cast her eyes on the river that flowed before her: \"Answer,\" said she, \"great Father of Waters, thou that rollest thy floods through eighty nations, to the invocation of the daughter of thy native king. Tell me, if thou waterest, through all thy course, a single habitation from which thou dost not hear the murmurs of complaint.\"'\" 23. Margent green. Cf. Comus, 232: \"By slow Mander's margent green.\" 24. Cf. Pope, Essay on Man, iii. 233: \"To Virtue, in the paths of Pleasure, trod.\" 26. Thy glassy wave. Cf. Comus, 861: \"Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave.\" 27. The captive linnet. The adjective is redundant and \"proleptic,\" as the bird must be \"enthralled\" before it can be called \"captive.\" 28. In the MS. this line reads, \"To chase the hoop's illusive speed,\" which seems to us better than the revised form in the text. 30. Cf. Pope, Dunciad, iv. 592: \"The senator at cricket urge the ball.\" 37. Cf. Cowley, Ode to Hobbes, iv. 7: \"Till unknown regions it descries.\" 40. A fearful joy. Wakefield quotes Matt. xxviii. 8 and Psalms ii. 11. Cf. Virgil, n. i. 513: \"Obstupuit simul ipse simul perculsus Achates Laetitiaque metuque.\" See also Lear, v. 3: \"'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief.\" 44. Cf. Pope, Eloisa, 209: \"Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;\" and Essay on Man, iv. 168: \"The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.\" 45. Buxom. Used here in its modern sense. It originally meant pliant, flexible, yielding (from A. S. bgan, to bow); then, gay, frolicsome, lively; and at last it became associated with the \"cheerful comeliness\" of vigorous health. Chaucer has \"buxom to ther lawe,\" and Spenser (State of Ireland), \"more tractable and buxome to his government.\" Cf. also F. Q. i. 11, 37: \"the buxome aire;\" an expression which Milton uses twice (P. L. ii. 842, v. 270). In L'Allegro, 24: \"So buxom, blithe, and debonaire;\" the only other instance in which he uses the word, it means sprightly or \"free\" (as in \"Come thou goddess, fair and free,\" a few lines before). Cf. Shakes. Pericles, i. prologue: \"So buxom, blithe, and full of face, As heaven had lent her all his grace.\" The word occurs nowhere else in Shakes. except Hen. V. iii. 6: \"Of buxom valour;\" that is, lively valour. Dr. Johnson appears to have had in mind the original meaning of buxom in his comment on this passage: \"His epithet buxom health is not elegant; he seems not to understand the word.\" 47. Lively cheer. Cf. Spenser, Shep. Kal. Apr.: \"In either cheeke depeincten lively chere;\" Milton, Ps. lxxxiv. 27: \"With joy and gladsome cheer.\" 49. Wakefield quotes Milton, P. L. v. 3: \"When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was airy light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapours bland.\" 51. Regardless of their doom. Collins, in the first manuscript of his Ode on the Death of Col. Ross, has \"E'en now, regardful of his doom, Applauding Honour haunts his tomb.\"2 Footnote 2: Mitford gives the first line as \"E'en now, regardless of his doom;\" and just below, on verse 61, he makes the line from Pope read, \"The fury Passions from that flood began.\" We have verified his quotations as far as possible, and have corrected scores of errors in them. Quite likely there are some errors in those we have not been able to verify. 55. Yet see, etc. Mitford cites Broome, Ode on Melancholy: \"While round stern ministers of fate, Pain and Disease and Sorrow, wait;\" and Otway, Alcibiades, v. 2: \"Then enter, ye grim ministers of fate.\" See also Progress of Poesy, ii. 1: \"Man's feeble race,\" etc. 59. Murtherous. The obsolete spelling of murderous, still used in Gray's time. 61. The fury Passions. The passions, fierce and cruel as the mythical Furies. Cf. Pope, Essay on Man, iii. 167: \"The fury Passions from that blood began.\" 66. Mitford quotes Spenser, F. Q.: \"But gnawing Jealousy out of their sight, Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bite.\" 68. Wakefield quotes Milton, Sonnet to Mr. Lawes: \"With praise enough for Envy to look wan.\" 69. Grimvisag'd, comfortless Despair. Cf. Shakes. Rich. III. i. 1: \"Grimvisag'd War;\" and C. of E. v. 1: \"grim and comfortless Despair.\" 76. Unkindness' altered eye. \"An ungraceful elision\" of the possessive inflection, as Mason calls it. Cf. Dryden, Hind and Panther, iii.: \"Affected Kindness with an alter'd face.\" 79. Gray quotes Dryden, Pal. and Arc.: \"Madness laughing in his ireful mood.\" Cf. Shakes. Hen. VI. iv. 2: \"But rather moody mad;\" and iii. 1: \"Moody discontented fury.\" 81. The vale of years. Cf. Othello, iii. 3: \"Declin'd Into the vale of years.\" 82. Grisly. Not to be confounded with grizzly. See Wb. 83. The painful family of death. Cf. Pope, Essay on Man, ii. 118: \"Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain;\" and Dryden, State of Innocence, v. 1: \"With all the numerous family of Death.\" On the whole passage cf. Milton, P. L. xi. 477493. See also Virgil, n. vi. 275. 86. That every labouring sinew strains. An example of the \"correspondence of sound with sense.\" As Pope says (Essay on Criticism, 371), \"The line too labours, and the words move slow.\" 90. Slowconsuming Age. Cf. Shenstone, Love and Honour: \"His slowconsuming fires.\" 95. As Wakefield remarks, we meet with the same thought in Comus, 359: \"Peace, brother, be not overexquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; For grant they be so, while they rest unknown What need a man forestall his date of grief, And run to meet what he would most avoid?\" 97. Happiness too swiftly flies. Perhaps a reminiscence of Virgil, Geo. iii. 66: \"Optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi Prima fugit.\" 98. Thought would destroy their paradise. Wakefield quotes Sophocles, Ajax, 554: Greek: En ti phronein gar mden hdistos bios (\"Absence of thought is prime felicity\"). 99. Cf. Prior, Ep. to Montague, st. 9: \"From ignorance our comfort flows, The only wretched are the wise.\" and Davenant, Just Italian: \"Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy, it is not safe to know.\" Illustration: WINDSOR CASTLE, FROM THE END OF THE LONG WALK. Illustration: HOMER ENTHRONED. THE PROGRESS OF POESY. This Ode, as we learn from one of Gray's letters to Walpole, was finished, with the exception of a few lines, in 1755. It was not published until 1757, when it appeared with The Bard in a quarto volume, which was the first issue of Walpole's press at Strawberry Hill. In one of his letters Walpole writes: \"I send you two copies of a very honourable opening of my presstwo amazing odes of Mr. Gray. They are Greek, they are Pindaric, they are sublime, consequently I fear a little obscure; the second particularly, by the confinement of the measure and the nature of prophetic vision, is mysterious. I could not persuade him to add more notes.\" In another letter Walpole says: \"I found Gray in town last week; he had brought his two odes to be printed. I snatched them out of Dodsley's hands, and they are to be the firstfruits of my press.\" The titlepage of the volume is as follows: ODES BY MR. GRAY. Greek: PHNANTA SUNETOISIPINDAR, Olymp, II. PRINTED AT STRAWBERRYHILL, for R. and J. DODSLEY in PallMall. MDCCLVII. Both Odes were coldly received at first. \"Even my friends,\" writes Gray, in a letter to Hurd, Aug. 25, 1757, \"tell me they do not succeed, and write me moving topics of consolation on that head. In short, I have heard of nobody but an Actor Garrick and a Doctor of Divinity Warburton that profess their esteem for them. Oh yes, a Lady of quality (a friend of Mason's) who is a great reader. She knew there was a compliment to Dryden, but never suspected there was anything said about Shakespeare or Milton, till it was explained to her, and wishes that there had been titles prefixed to tell what they were about.\"1 In a letter to Dr. Wharton, dated Aug. 17, 1757, he says: \"I hear we are not at all popular. The great objection is obscurity, nobody knows what we would be at. One man (a Peer) I have been told of, that thinks the last stanza of the 2d Ode relates to Charles the First and Oliver Cromwell; in short, the Greek: Sunetoi appear to be still fewer than even I expected.\" A writer in the Critical Review thought that \"olian lyre\" meant the olian harp. Coleman the elder and Robert Lloyd wrote parodies entitled Odes to Obscurity and Oblivion. Gray finally had to add explanatory notes, though he intimates that his readers ought not to have needed them.2 Footnote 1: Forster remarks that Gray might have added to the admirers of the Odes \"the poor monthly critic of The Dunciad\"Oliver Goldsmith, then beginning his London career as a bookseller's hack. In a review of the Odes in the London Monthly Review for Sept., 1757, after citing certain passages of The Bard, he says that they \"will give as much pleasure to those who relish this species of composition as anything that has hitherto appeared in our language, the odes of Dryden himself not excepted.\" Footnote 2: In a footnote he says: \"When the author first published this and the following Ode, he was advised, even by his friends, to subjoin some few explanatory notes; but had too much respect for the understanding of his readers to take that liberty.\" In a letter to Beattie, dated Feb. 1, 1768, referring to the new edition of his poems, he says: \"As to the notes, I do it out of spite, because the public did not understand the two Odes (which I have called Pindaric), though the first was not very dark, and the second alluded to a few common facts to be found in any sixpenny history of England, by way of question and answer, for the use of children.\" And in a letter to Walpole, Feb. 25, 1768, he says he has added \"certain little Notes, partly from justice (to acknowledge the debt where I had borrowed anything), partly from ill temper, just to tell the gentle reader that Edward I. was not Oliver Cromwell, nor Queen Elizabeth the Witch of Endor.\" Mr. Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, said that \"if the Bard recited his Ode only once to Edward, he was sure he could not understand it.\" When this was told to Gray, he said, \"If he had recited it twenty times, Edward would not have been a bit wiser; but that was no reason why Mr. Fox should not.\" \"The metre of these Odes is constructed on Greek models. It is not uniform but symmetrical. The nine stanzas of each ode form three groups. A slight examination will show that the 1st, 4th, and 7th stanzas are exactly intercorrespondent; so the 2d, 5th, and 8th; and so the remaining three. The technical Greek names for these three parts were Greek: stroph (strophe), Greek: antistroph (antistrophe), and Greek: epdos (epodos)the Turn, the Counterturn, and the Aftersongnames derived from the theatre; the Turn denoting the movement of the Chorus from one side of the Greek: orchstra (orchestra), or Dancestage, to the other, the Counterturn the reverse movement, the Aftersong something sung after two such movements. Odes thus constructed were called by the Greeks Epodic. Congreve is said to have been the first who so constructed English odes. This system cannot be said to have prospered with us. Perhaps no English ear would instinctively recognize that correspondence between distant parts which is the secret of it. Certainly very many readers of The Progress of Poesy are wholly unconscious of any such harmony\" (Hales). Illustration: ALCUS AND SAPPHO. FROM A PAINTING ON A VASE. 1. Awake, olian lyre. The blunder of the Critical Reviewers who supposed the \"harp of olus\" to be meant led Gray to insert this note: \"Pindar styles his own poetry with its musical accompaniments, Greek: Aiolis molp, Aiolides chordai, Aiolidn pnoai auln, olian song, olian strings, the breath of the olian flute.\" Cf. Cowley, Ode of David: \"Awake, awake, my lyre!\" Gray himself quotes Ps. lvii. 8. The first reading of the line in the MS. was, \"Awake, my lyre: my glory, wake.\" Gray also adds the following note: \"The subject and simile, as usual with Pindar, are united. The various sources of poetry, which gives life and lustre to all it touches, are here described; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxuriant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swollen and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions.\" 2. And give to rapture. The first reading of the MS. was \"give to transport.\" 3. Helicon's harmonious springs. In the mountain range of Helicon, in Boeotia, there were two fountains sacred to the Muses, Aganippe and Hippocrene, of which the former was the more famous. 7. Cf. Pope, Hor. Epist. ii. 2, 171: \"Pour the full tide of eloquence along, Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong;\" and Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, 11: \"The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow;\" also Thomson, Liberty, ii. 257: \"In thy full language speaking mighty things, Like a clear torrent close, or else diffus'd A broad majestic stream, and rolling on Through all the winding harmony of sound.\" 9. Cf. Shenstone, Inscr.: \"Verdant vales and fountains bright;\" also Virgil, Geo. i. 96: \"Flava Ceres;\" and Homer, Il. v. 499: Greek: xanth Dmtr. 10. Rolling. Spelled \"rowling\" in the 1st and other early editions. Amain. Cf. Lycidas, 111: \"The golden opes, the iron shuts amain;\" P. L. ii. 165: \"when we fled amain,\" etc. Also Shakes. Temp. iv. 1: \"Her peacocks fly amain,\" etc. The word means literally with main (which we still use in \"might and main\"), that is, with force or strength. Cf. Horace, Od. iv. 2, 8: \"Immensusque ruit profundo Pindarus ore.\" 11. The first MS. reading was, \"With torrent rapture see it pour.\" 12. Cf. Dryden, Virgil's Geo. i.: \"And rocks the bellowing voice of boiling seas resound;\" Pope, Iliad: \"Rocks rebellow to the roar.\" 13. \"Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar\" (Gray). 14. Solemnbreathing airs. Cf. Comus, 555: \"a soft and solemnbreathing sound.\" 15. Enchanting shell. That is, lyre; alluding to the myth of the origin of the instrument, which Mercury was said to have made from the shell of a tortoise. Cf. Collins, Passions, 3: \"The Passions oft, to hear her shell,\" etc. 17. On Thracia's hills. Thrace was one of the chief seats of the worship of Mars. Cf. Ovid, Ars Am. ii. 588: \"Mars Thracen occupat.\" See also Virgil, n. iii. 35, etc. 19. His thirsty lance. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. i. 5, 15: \"his thristy thirsty blade.\" 20. Gray says, \"This is a weak imitation of some beautiful lines in the same ode;\" that is, in \"the first Pythian of Pindar,\" referred to in the note on 13. The passage is an address to the lyre, and is translated by Wakefield thus: \"On Jove's imperial rod the king of birds Drops down his flagging wings; thy thrilling sounds Soothe his fierce beak, and pour a sable cloud Of slumber on his eyelids: up he lifts His flexile back, shot by thy piercing darts. Mars smooths his rugged brow, and nerveless drops His lance, relenting at the choral song.\" 21. The feather'd king. Cf. Shakes. Phoenix and Turtle: \"Every fowl of tyrant wing, Save the eagle, feather'd king.\" 23. Dark clouds. The first reading of MS. was \"black clouds.\" 24. The terror. This is the reading of the first ed. and also of that of 1768. Most of the modern eds. have \"terrors.\" 25. \"Power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body\" (Gray). 26. Temper'd. Modulated, \"set.\" Cf. Lycidas, 33: \"Tempered to the oaten flute;\" Fletcher, Purple Island: \"Tempering their sweetest notes unto thy lay,\" etc. 27. O'er Idalia's velvetgreen. Idalia appears to be used for Idalium, which was a town in Cyprus, and a favourite seat of Venus, who was sometimes called Idalia. Pope likewise uses Idalia for the place, in his First Pastoral, 65: \"Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves.\" Dr. Johnson finds fault with velvetgreen, apparently supposing it to be a compound of Gray's own making. But Young had used it in his Love of Fame: \"She rears her flowers, and spreads her velvetgreen.\" It is also among the expressions of Pope which are ridiculed in the Alexandriad. 29. Cytherea was a name of Venus, derived from Cythera, an island in the gean Sea, one of the favourite residences of Aphrodite, or Venus. Cf. Virgil, n. i. 680: \"super alta Cythera Aut super Idalium, sacrata sede,\" etc. 30. With antic Sports. This is the reading of the 1st ed. and also of the ed. of 1768. Some eds. have \"sport.\" Antic is the same word as antique. The association between what is old or oldfashioned and what is odd, fantastic, or grotesque is obvious enough. Cf. Milton, Il Pens. 158: \"With antick pillars massyproof.\" In S. A. 1325 he uses the word as a noun: \"Jugglers and dancers, anticks, mummers, mimicks.\" Shakes. makes it a verb in A. and C. ii. 7: \"the wild disguise hath almost Antick'd us all.\" 31. Cf. Thomson, Spring, 835: \"In friskful glee Their frolics play.\" 32, 33. Cf. Virgil, n. v. 580 foll. 35. Gray quotes Homer, Od. ix. 265: Greek: marmarugas theito podn thaumaze de thumi. Cf. Catullus's \"fulgentem plantam.\" See also Thomson, Spring, 158: \"the manytwinkling leaves Of aspin tall.\" 36. Slowmelting strains, etc. Cf. a poem by Barton Booth, published in 1733: \"Now to a slow and melting air she moves, So like in air, in shape, in mien, She passes for the Paphian queen; The Graces all around her play, The wondering gazers die away; Whether her easy body bend, Or her fair bosom heave with sighs; Whether her graceful arms extend, Or gently fall, or slowly rise; Or returning or advancing, Swimming round, or sidelong glancing, Strange force of motion that subdues the soul.\" 37. Cf. Dryden, Flower and Leaf, 191: \"For wheresoe'er she turn'd her face, they bow'd.\" 39. Cf. Virgil, n. i. 405: \"Incessu patuit dea.\" The gods were represented as gliding or sailing along without moving their feet. 41. Purple light of love. Cf. Virgil, n. i. 590: \"lumenque juventae Purpureum.\" Gray quotes Phrynichus, apud Athenum: Greek: lampei d' epi porphureisi pareiisi phs ertos. See also Dryden, Brit. Red. 133: \"and her own purple light.\" 42. \"To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind by the same Providence that sends the day by its cheerful presence to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night\" (Gray). 43 foll. See on Eton Coll. 83. Cf. Horace, Od. i. 3, 2933. 46. Fond complaint. Foolish complaint. Cf. Shakes. M. of V. iii. 3: \"I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request;\" Milton, S. A. 812: \"fond and reasonless,\" etc. This appears to be the original meaning of the word. In Wiclif's Bible. 1 Cor. i. 27, we have \"the thingis that ben fonnyd of the world.\" In Twelfth Night, ii. 2, the word is used as a verbdote: \"And I, poor monster, fond as much on him, As she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.\" 49. Hurd quotes Cowley: \"Night and her ugly subjects thou dost fright, And Sleep, the lazy owl of night; Asham'd and fearful to appear, They screen their horrid shapes with the black hemisphere.\" Wakefield cites Milton, Hymn on Nativity, 233 foll.: \"The flocking shadows pale,\" etc. See also P. R. iv. 419431. 50. Birds of boding cry. Cf. Green's Grotto: \"news the boding nightbirds tell.\" 52. Gray refers to Cowley, Brutus: \"One would have thought 't had heard the morning crow, Or seen her wellappointed star. Come marching up the eastern hill afar.\" The following variations on 52 and 53 are found in the MS.: Till fierce Hyperion from afar Pours on their scatter'd rear,  Hurls at \" flying \"  his glittering shafts of war. \" o'er \" scatter'd \"  \" \" \" shadowy \"  Till \" \" \" \" from far Hyperion hurls around his, etc. The accent of Hyperion is properly on the penult, which is long in quantity, but the English poets, with rare exceptions, have thrown it back upon the antepenult. It is thus in the six instances in which Shakes. uses the word: e.g. Hamlet, iii. 4: \"Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself.\" The word does not occur in Milton. It is correctly accented by Drummond (of Hawthornden), Wand. Muses: \"That Hyperion far beyond his bed Doth see our lions ramp, our roses spread;\" by West, Pindar's Ol. viii. 22: \"Then Hyperion's son, pure fount of day, Did to his children the strange tale reveal;\" also by Akenside, and by the author of the old play Fuimus Troes (A.D. 1633): \"Blow, gentle Africus, Play on our poops when Hyperion's son Shall couch in west.\" Hyperion was a Titan, the father of Helios (the Sun), Selene (the Moon), and Eos (the Dawn). He was represented with the attributes of beauty and splendor afterwards ascribed to Apollo. His \"glittering shafts\" are of course the sunbeams, the \"lucida tela diei\" of Lucretius. Cf. a very beautiful description of the dawn in Lowell's Above and Below: \"'Tis from these heights alone your eyes The advancing spears of day can see, Which o'er the eastern hilltops rise, To break your long captivity.\" We may quote also his Vision of Sir Launfal: \"It seemed the dark castle had gathered all Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall In his siege of three hundred summers long,\" etc. 54. Gray's note here is as follows: \"Extensive influence of poetic genius over the remotest and most uncivilized nations; its connection with liberty and the virtues that naturally attend on it. See the Erse, Norwegian, and Welsh fragments; the Lapland and American songs.\" He also quotes Virgil, n. vi. 796: \"Extra anni solisque vias,\" and Petrarch, Canz. 2: \"Tutta lontana dal camin del sole.\" Cf. also Dryden, Thren. August. 353: \"Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway;\" Ann. Mirab. st. 160: \"Beyond the year, and out of Heaven's highway;\" Brit. Red.: \"Beyond the sunny walks and circling year;\" also Pope, Essay on Man, i. 102: \"Far as the solar walk and milky way.\" 56. Twilight gloom. Wakefield quotes Milton, Hymn on Nativ. 188: \"The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.\" 57. Wakefield says, \"It almost chills one to read this verse.\" The MS. variations are \"buried native's\" and \"chill abode.\" 60. Repeat their chiefs, etc.. Sing of them again and again. 61. In loose numbers, etc. Cf. Milton, L'All. 133: \"Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native woodnotes wild;\" and Horace, Od. iv. 2, 11: \"numerisque fertur Lege solutis.\" 62. Their feathercinctur'd chiefs. Cf. P. L. ix. 1115: \"Such of late Columbus found the American, so girt With feather'd cincture.\" 64. Glory pursue. Wakefield remarks that this use of a plural verb after the first of a series of subjects is in Pindar's manner. Warton compares Homer, Il. v. 774: Greek: hchi rhoas Simoeis sumballeton de Skamandros. Dugald Stewart (Philos. of Human Mind) says: \"I cannot help remarking the effect of the solemn and uniform flow of verse in this exquisite stanza, in retarding the pronunciation of the reader, so as to arrest his attention to every successive picture, till it has time to produce its proper impression.\" 65. Freedom's holy flame. Cf. Akenside, Pleas. of Imag. i. 468: \"Love's holy flame.\" Illustration: THE VALE OF TEMPE. 66. \"Progress of Poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England. Chaucer was not unacquainted with the writings of Dante or of Petrarch. The Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyatt had travelled in Italy, and formed their taste there; Spenser imitated the Italian writers; Milton improved on them: but this school expired soon after the Restoration, and a new one arose on the French model, which has subsisted ever since\" (Gray). Delphi's steep. Cf. Milton, Hymn on Nativ. 178: \"the steep of Delphos;\" P. L. i. 517: \"the Delphian cliff.\" Both Shakes. and Milton prefer the medival form Delphos to the more usual Delphi. Delphi was at the foot of the southern uplands of Parnassus which end \"in a precipitous cliff, 2000 feet high, rising to a double peak named the Phdriades, from their glittering appearance as they faced the rays of the sun\" (Smith's Anc. Geog.). 67. Isles, etc. Cf. Byron: \"The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung,\" etc. 68. Ilissus. This river, rising on the northern slope of Hymettus, flows through the east side of Athens. 69. Mander's amber waves. Cf. Milton, P. L. iii. 359: \"Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream;\" P. R. iii. 288: \"There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream.\" See also Virgil, Geo. iii. 520: \"Purior electro campum petit amnis.\" Callimachus (Cer. 29) has Greek: alektrinon hudr. 70. Ovid, Met. viii. 162, describes the Mander thus: \"Non secus ac liquidis Phrygiis Maeandros in arvis Ludit, et ambiguo lapsu refluitque fluitque.\" Cf. also Virgil's description of the Mincius (Geo. iii. 15): \"tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat Mincius.\" \"The first great metropolis of Hellenic intellectual life was Miletus on the Mander. Thales, Anaximander, Anaximines, Cadmus, Hecatus, etc., were all Milesians\" (Hales). 71 foll. Cf. Milton, Hymn on Nativ. 181: \"The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent:\" etc. 75. Hallowed fountain. Cf. Virgil, Ecl. i. 53: \"fontes sacros.\" 76. The MS. has \"Murmur'd a celestial sound.\" 80. Vice that revels in her chains. In his Ode for Music, 6, Gray has \"Servitude that hugs her chain.\" 81. Hales quotes Collins, Ode to Simplicity: \"While Rome could none esteem But Virtue's patriot theme, You lov'd her hills, and led her laureate band; But staid to sing alone To one distinguish'd throne, And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.\" 84. Nature's darling. \"Shakespeare\" (Gray). Cf. Cleveland, Poems: \"Here lies within this stony shade Nature's darling; whom she made Her fairest model, her brief story, In him heaping all her glory.\" On green lap, cf. Milton, Song on May Morning: \"The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.\" 85. Lucid Avon. Cf. Seneca, Thyest. 129: \"gelido flumine lucidus Alpheos.\" 86. The mighty mother. That is, Nature. Pope, in the Dunciad, i. 1, uses the same expression in a satirical way: \"The Mighty Mother, and her Son, who brings The Smithfield Muses to the ear of kings, I sing.\" See also Dryden, Georgics, i. 466: \"On the green turf thy careless limbs display, And celebrate the mighty mother's day.\" 87. The dauntless child. Cf. Horace, Od. iii. 4, 20: \"non sine dis animosus infans.\" Wakefield quotes Virgil, Ecl. iv. 60: \"Incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem.\" Mitford points out that the identical expression occurs in Sandys's translation of Ovid, Met. iv. 515: \"the child Stretch'd forth its little arms, and on him smil'd.\" See also Catullus, In Nupt. Jun. et Manl. 216: \"Torquatus volo parvulus Matris e gremio suae Porrigens teneras manus, Dulce rideat.\" 91. These golden keys. Cf. Young, Resig.: \"Nature, which favours to the few All art beyond imparts, To him presented at his birth The key of human hearts.\" Wakefield cites Comus, 12: \"Yet some there be, that with due steps aspire To lay their hands upon that golden key That opes the palace of eternity.\" See also Lycidas, 110: \"Two massy keys he bore of metals twain; The golden opes, the iron shuts amain.\" 93. Of horror. A MS. variation is \"Of terror.\" 94. Or ope the sacred source. In a letter to Dr. Wharton, Sept. 7, 1757, Gray mentions, among other criticisms upon this ode, that \"Dr. Akenside criticises opening a source with a key.\" But, as Mitford remarks, Akenside himself in his Ode on Lyric Poetry has, \"While I so late unlock thy purer springs,\" and in his Pleasures of Imagination, \"I unlock the springs of ancient wisdom.\" 95. Nor second he, etc. \"Milton\" (Gray). 96, 97. Cf. Milton, P. L. vii. 12: \"Up led by thee, Into the heaven of heavens I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air.\" 98. The flaming bounds, etc. Gray quotes Lucretius, i. 74: \"Flammantia moenia mundi.\" Cf. also Horace, Epist. i. 14, 9: \"amat spatiis obstantia rumpere claustra.\" 99. Gray quotes Ezekiel i. 20, 26, 28. See also Milton, At a Solemn Music, 7: \"Aye sung before the sapphirecolour'd throne;\" Il Pens. 53: \"the fierywheeled throne;\" P. L. vi. 758: \"Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure Amber, and colours of the showery arch;\" and id. vi. 771: \"He on the wings of cherub rode sublime, On the crystalline sky, in sapphire throned.\" 101. Blasted with excess of light. Cf. P. L. iii. 380: \"Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear.\" 102. Cf. Virgil, n. x. 746: \"in aeternam clauduntur lumina noctem,\" which Dryden translates, \"And closed her lids at last in endless night.\" Gray quotes Homer, Od. viii. 64: Greek: Ophthalmn men amerses, didou d' hdeian aoidn. 103. Gray, according to Mason, \"admired Dryden almost beyond bounds.\"3 Footnote 3: In a journey through Scotland in 1765, Gray became acquainted with Beattie, to whom he commended the study of Dryden, adding that \"if there was any excellence in his own numbers, he had learned it wholly from the great poet.\" 105. \"Meant to express the stately march and sounding energy of Dryden's rhymes\" (Gray). Cf. Pope, Imit. of Hor. Ep. ii. 1, 267: \"Waller was smooth: but Dryden taught to join The varying verse, the fullresounding line, The long majestic march, and energy divine.\" 106. Gray quotes Job xxxix. 19: \"Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?\" 108. Brighteyed. The MS. has \"fullplumed.\" 110. Gray quotes Cowley, Prophet: \"Words that weep, and tears that speak.\" Dugald Stewart remarks upon this line: \"I have sometimes thought that Gray had in view the two different effects of words already described; the effect of some in awakening the powers of conception and imagination; and that of others in exciting associated emotions.\" 111. \"We have had in our language no other odes of the sublime kind than that of Dryden on St. Cecilia's Day; for Cowley (who had his merit) yet wanted judgment, style, and harmony, for such a task. That of Pope is not worthy of so great a man. Mr. Mason, indeed, of late days, has touched the true chords, and with a masterly hand, in some of his choruses; above all in the last of Caractacus: 'Hark! heard ye not yon footstep dread!' etc.\" (Gray). 113. Wakes thee now. Cf. Elegy, 48: \"Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.\" 115. \"Greek: Dios pros ornicha theion. Olymp. ii. 159. Pindar compares himself to that bird, and his enemies to ravens that croak and clamour in vain below, while it pursues its flight, regardless of their noise\" (Gray). Cf. Spenser, F. Q. v. 4, 42: \"Like to an Eagle, in his kingly pride Soring through his wide Empire of the aire, To weather his brode sailes.\" Cowley, in his translation of Horace, Od. iv. 2, calls Pindar \"the Theban swan\" (\"Dircaeum cycnum\"): \"Lo! how the obsequious wind and swelling air The Theban Swan does upward bear.\" 117. Azure deep of air. Cf. Euripides, Med. 1294: Greek: es aitheros bathos; and Lucretius, ii. 151: \"Aris in magnum fertur mare.\" Cowley has \"Row through the trackless ocean of air;\" and Shakes. (T. of A. iv. 2), \"this sea of air.\" 118, 119. The MS. reads: \"Yet when they first were open'd on the day Before his visionary eyes would run.\" D. Stewart (Philos. of Human Mind) remarks that \"Gray, in describing the infantine reveries of poetical genius, has fixed with exquisite judgment on that class of our conceptions which are derived from visible objects.\" 120. With orient hues. Cf. Milton, P. L. i. 546: \"with orient colours waving.\" 122. The MS. has \"Yet never can he fear a vulgar fate.\" 123. Cf. K. Philips: \"Still shew'd how much the good outshone the great.\" We append, as a curiosity of criticism, Dr. Johnson's comments on this ode, from his Lives of the Poets. The Life of Gray has been called \"the worst in the series,\" and perhaps this is the worst part of it:4 \"My process has now brought me to the wonderful 'Wonder of Wonders,' the two Sister Odes, by which, though either vulgar ignorance or commonsense at first universally rejected them, many have been since persuaded to think themselves delighted. I am one of those that are willing to be pleased, and therefore would gladly find the meaning of the first stanza of 'The Progress of Poetry.' \"Gray seems in his rapture to confound the images of spreading sound and running water. A 'stream of music' may be allowed; but where does 'music,' however 'smooth and strong,' after having visited the 'verdant vales, roll down the steep amain,' so as that 'rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar?' If this be said of music, it is nonsense; if it be said of water, it is nothing to the purpose. \"The second stanza, exhibiting Mars's car and Jove's eagle, is unworthy of further notice. Criticism disdains to chase a schoolboy to his commonplaces. \"To the third it may likewise be objected that it is drawn from mythology, though such as may be more easily assimilated to real life. Idalia's 'velvetgreen' has something of cant. An epithet or metaphor drawn from Nature ennobles Art; an epithet or metaphor drawn from Art degrades Nature. Gray is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded. 'Manytwinkling' was formerly censured as not analogical; we may say 'manyspotted,' but scarcely 'manyspotting.' This stanza, however, has something pleasing. \"Of the second ternary of stanzas, the first endeavours to tell something, and would have told it, had it not been crossed by Hyperion; the second describes well enough the universal prevalence of poetry; but I am afraid that the conclusion will not arise from the premises. The caverns of the North and the plains of Chili are not the residences of 'Glory and generous Shame.' But that Poetry and Virtue go always together is an opinion so pleasing that I can forgive him who resolves to think it true. \"The third stanza sounds big with 'Delphi,' and 'gean,' and 'Ilissus,' and 'Mander,' and with 'hallowed fountains,' and 'solemn sound;' but in all Gray's odes there is a kind of cumbrous splendour which we wish away. His position is at last false: in the time of Dante and Petrarch, from whom we derive our first school of poetry, Italy was overrun by 'tyrant power' and 'coward vice;' nor was our state much better when we first borrowed the Italian arts. \"Of the third ternary, the first gives a mythological birth of Shakespeare. What is said of that mighty genius is true; but it is not said happily: the real effects of this poetical power are put out of sight by the pomp of machinery. Where truth is sufficient to fill the mind, fiction is worse than useless; the counterfeit debases the genuine. \"His account of Milton's blindness, if we suppose it caused by study in the formation of his poem, a supposition surely allowable, is poetically true and happily imagined. But the car of Dryden, with his two coursers, has nothing in it peculiar; it is a car in which any other rider may be placed.\" Footnote 4: Sir James Mackintosh well says of Johnson's criticisms: \"Wherever understanding alone is sufficient for poetical criticism, the decisions of Johnson are generally right. But the beauties of poetry must be felt before their causes are investigated. There is a poetical sensibility, which in the progress of the mind becomes as distinct a power as a musical ear or a picturesque eye. Without a considerable degree of this sensibility, it is as vain for a man of the greatest understanding to speak of the higher beauties of poetry as it is for a blind man to speak of colours. To adopt the warmest sentiments of poetry, to realize its boldest imagery, to yield to every impulse of enthusiasm, to submit to the illusions of fancy, to retire with the poet into his ideal worlds, were dispositions wholly foreign from the worldly sagacity and stern shrewdness of Johnson. As in his judgment of life and character, so in his criticism on poetry, he was a sort of Freethinker. He suspected the refined of affectation, he rejected the enthusiastic as absurd, and he took it for granted that the mysterious was unintelligible. He came into the world when the school of Dryden and Pope gave the law to English poetry. In that school he had himself learned to be a lofty and vigorous declaimer in harmonious verse; beyond that school his unforced admiration perhaps scarcely soared; and his highest effort of criticism was accordingly the noble panegyric on Dryden.\" W. H. Prescott, the historian, also remarks that Johnson, as a critic, \"was certainly deficient in sensibility to the more delicate, the minor beauties of poetic sentiment. He analyzes verse in the coldblooded spirit of a chemist, until all the aroma which constituted its principal charm escapes in the decomposition. By this kind of process, some of the finest fancies of the Muse, the lofty dithyrambics of Gray, the ethereal effusions of Collins, and of Milton too, are rendered sufficiently vapid.\" Illustration: PINDAR. Illustration: EDWARD I. THE BARD. \"This ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales that Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death\" (Gray). The original argument of the ode, as Gray had set it down in his commonplacebook, was as follows: \"The army of Edward I., as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human, reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race, and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never extinguish the noble ardour of poetic genius in this island; and that men shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valour in immortal strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet.\" Mitford, in his \"Essay on the Poetry of Gray,\" says of this Ode: \"The tendency of The Bard is to show the retributive justice that follows an act of tyranny and wickedness; to denounce on Edward, in his person and his progeny, the effect of the crime he had committed in the massacre of the bards; to convince him that neither his power nor situation could save him from the natural and necessary consequences of his guilt; that not even the virtues which he possessed could atone for the vices with which they were accompanied: 'Helm nor hauberk's twisted mail, Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail.' This is the real tendency of the poem; and well worthy it was of being adorned and heightened by such a profusion of splendid images and beautiful machinery. We must also observe how much this moral feeling increases as we approach the close; how the poem rises in dignity; and by what a fine gradation the solemnity of the subject ascends. The Bard commenced his song with feelings of sorrow for his departed brethren and his desolate country. This despondence, however, has given way to emotions of a nobler and more exalted nature. What can be more magnificent than the vision which opens before him to display the triumph of justice and the final glory of his cause? And it may be added, what can be more forcible or emphatic than the language in which it is conveyed? 'But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height, Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!' The fine apostrophe to the shade of Taliessin completes the picture of exultation: 'Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.' The triumph of justice, therefore, is now complete. The vanquished has risen superior to his conqueror, and the reader closes the poem with feelings of content and satisfaction. He has seen the Bard uplifted both by a divine energy and by the natural superiority of virtue; and the conqueror has shrunk into a creature of hatred and abhorrence: 'Be thine despair, and sceptred care; To triumph, and to die, are mine.'\" With regard to the obscurity of the poem, the same writer remarks that \"it is such only as of necessity arises from the plan and conduct of a prophecy.\" \"In the prophetic poem,\" he adds, \"one point of history alone is told, and the rest is to be acquired previously by the reader; as in the contemplation of an historical picture, which commands only one moment of time, our memory must supply us with the necessary links of knowledge; and that point of time selected by the painter must be illustrated by the spectator's knowledge of the past or future, of the cause or the consequences.\" He refers, for corroboration of this opinion, to Dr. Campbell, who in his \"Philosophy of Rhetoric,\" says: \"I know no style to which darkness of a certain sort is more suited than to the prophetical: many reasons might be assigned which render it improper that prophecy should be perfectly understood before it be accomplished. Besides, we are certain that a prediction may be very dark before the accomplishment, and yet so plain afterwards as scarcely to admit a doubt in regard to the events suggested. It does not belong to critics to give laws to prophets, nor does it fall within the confines of any human art to lay down rules for a species of composition so far above art. Thus far, however, we may warrantably observe, that when the prophetic style is imitated in poetry, the piece ought, as much as possible, to possess the character above mentioned. This character, in my opinion, is possessed in a very eminent degree by Mr. Gray's ode called The Bard. It is all darkness to one who knows nothing of the English history posterior to the reign of Edward the First, and all light to one who is acquainted with that history. But this is a kind of writing whose peculiarities can scarcely be considered as exceptions from ordinary rules.\" Farther on in the same essay, Mitford remarks: \"The skill of Gray is, I think, eminently shown in the superior distinctness with which he has marked those parts of his prophecies which are speedily to be accomplished; and in the gradations by which, as he descends, he has insensibly melted the more remote into the deeper and deeper shadowings of general language. The first prophecy is the fate of Edward the Second. In that the Bard has pointed out the very night in which he is to be destroyed; has named the river that flowed around his prison, and the castle that was the scene of his sufferings: 'Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall reecho with affright The shrieks of death thro' Berkeley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing king.' How different is the imagery when Richard the Second is described; and how indistinctly is the luxurious monarch marked out in the form of the morning, and his country in the figure of the vessel! 'The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born? Gone to salute the rising morn. Fair laughs the morn,' etc. The last prophecy is that of the civil wars, and of the death of the two young princes. No place, no name is now noted: and all is seen through the dimness of figurative expression: 'Above, below, the rose of snow, Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled boar in infant gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade.'\" Hales remarks: \"It is perhaps scarcely now necessary to say that the tradition on which The Bard is founded is wholly groundless. Edward I. never did massacre Welsh bards. Their name is legion in the beginning of the 14th century. Miss Williams, the latest historian of Wales, does not even mention the old story.\"1 Footnote 1: The Saturday Review, for June 19, 1875, in the article from which we have elsewhere quoted (p. 79, footnote), refers to this point as follows: \"Gray was one of the first writers to show that earlier parts of English history were not only worth attending to, but were capable of poetic treatment. We can almost forgive him for dressing up in his splendid verse a foul and baseless calumny against Edward the First, when we remember that to most of Gray's contemporaries Edward the First must have seemed a person almost mythical, a benighted Popish savage, of whom there was very little to know, and that little hardly worth knowing. Our feeling towards Gray in this matter is much the same as our feeling towards Mitford in the matter of Greek history. We are angry with Mitford for misrepresenting Demosthenes and a crowd of other Athenian worthies, but we do not forget that he was the first to deal with Demosthenes and his fellows, neither as mere names nor as demigods, but as real living men like ourselves. It was a pity to misrepresent Demosthenes, but even the misrepresentation was something; it showed that Demosthenes could be made the subject of human feeling one way or another. It is unpleasant to hear the King whose praise it was that 'Velox est ad veniam, ad vindictam tardus,' spoken of as 'ruthless,' and the rest of it. But Gray at least felt that Edward was a real man, while to most of his contemporaries he could have been little more than 'the figure of an old Gothic king,' such as Sir Roger de Coverley looked when he sat in Edward's own chair.\" 1. A good example of alliteration. 2. Cf. Shakes. K. John, iv. 2: \"and vast confusion waits.\" 4. Gray quotes K. John, v. 1: \"Mocking the air with colours idly spread.\" 5. \"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to every motion\" (Gray). Cf. Robert of Gloucester: \"With helm and hauberk;\" and Dryden, Pal. and Arc. iii. 603: \"Hauberks and helms are hewed with many a wound.\" 7. Nightly. Nocturnal, as often in poetry. Cf. Il Pens. 84, etc. 9. The crested pride. Gray quotes Dryden, Indian Queen: \"The crested adder's pride.\" 11. \"Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract which the Welsh themselves call Craigianeryri: it included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far east as the river Conway. R. Hygden, speaking of the castle of Conway, built by King Edward the First, says: 'Ad ortum amnis Conway ad clivum montis Erery;' and Matthew of Westminster (ad ann. 1283), 'Apud Aberconway ad pedes montis Snowdoniae fecit erigi castrum forte'\" (Gray). It was in the spring of 1283 that English troops at last forced their way among the defiles of Snowdon. Llewellyn had preserved those passes and heights intact until his death in the preceding December. The surrender of Dolbadern in the April following that dispiriting event opened a way for the invader; and William de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, at once advanced by it (Hales). The epithet shaggy is highly appropriate, as Leland (Itin.) says that great woods clothed the mountain in his time. Cf. Dyer, Ruins of Rome: \"as Britannia's oaks On Merlin's mount, or Snowdon's rugged sides, Stand in the clouds.\" See also Lycidas, 54: \"Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high;\" and P. L. vi. 645: \"the shaggy tops.\" 13. Stout Gloster. \"Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hereford, soninlaw to King Edward\" (Gray). He had, in 1282, conducted the war in South Wales; and after overthrowing the enemy near Llandeilo Fawr, had reinforced the king in the northwest. 14. Mortimer. \"Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore\" (Gray). It was by one of his knights, named Adam de Francton, that Llewellyn, not at first known to be he, was slain near Pont Orewyn (Hales). On quivering lance, cf. Virgil, n. xii. 94: \"hastam quassatque trementem.\" 15. On a rock whose haughty brow. Cf. Daniel, Civil Wars: \"A huge aspiring rock, whose surly brow.\" The rock is probably meant for Penmaenmawr, the northern termination of the Snowdon range. It is a mass of rock, 1545 feet high, a few miles from the mouth of the Conway, the valley of which it overlooks. Towards the sea it presents a rugged and almost perpendicular front. On its summit is BraichyDinas, an ancient fortified post, regarded as the strongest hold of the Britons in the district of Snowdon. Here the reduced bands of the Welsh army were stationed during the negotiation between their prince Llewellyn and Edward I. Within the inner enclosure is a neverfailing well of pure water. The rock is now pierced with a tunnel 1890 feet long for the Chester and Holyhead railway. 17. Rob'd in the sable garb of woe. It would appear that Wharton had criticised this line, for in a letter to him, dated Aug. 21, 1757, Gray writes: \"You may alter that 'Robed in the sable,' etc., almost in your own words, thus, 'With fury pale, and pale with woe, Secure of Fate, the Poet stood,' etc. Though haggard, which conveys to you the idea of a witch, is indeed only a metaphor taken from an unreclaimed hawk, which is called a haggard, and looks wild and farouche, and jealous of its liberty.\" Gray seems to have afterwards returned to his first (and we think better) reading. 19. \"The image was taken from a wellknown picture of Raphael, representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris\" (Gray). 20. Like a meteor. Gray quotes P. L. i. 537: \"Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.\" 21, 22. Wakefield remarks: \"This is poetical language in perfection; and breathes the sublime spirit of Hebrew poetry, which delights in this grand rhetorical substitution.\" 23. Desert caves. Cf. Lycidas, 39: \"The woods and desert caves.\" 26. Hoarser murmurs. That is, perhaps, with continually increasing hoarseness, hoarser and hoarser; or it may mean with unwonted hoarseness, like the comparative sometimes in Latin (Hales). 28. Hoel is called highborn, being the son of Owen Gwynedd, prince of North Wales, by Finnog, an Irish damsel. He was one of his father's generals in his wars against the English, Flemings, and Normans, in South Wales; and was a famous bard, as his poems that are extant testify. Soft Llewellyn's lay. \"The lay celebrating the mild Llewellyn,\" says Hales, though he afterwards remarks that, \"looking at the context, it would be better to take Llewellyn here for a bard.\" Many bards celebrated the warlike prowess and princely qualities of Llewellyn. A poem by Einion the son of Guigan calls him \"a tenderhearted prince;\" and another, by Llywarch Brydydd y Moch, says: \"Llewellyn, though in battle he killed with fury, though he burned like an outrageous fire, yet was a mild prince when the meadhorns were distributed.\" In an ode by Llygard Gwr he is also called \"Llewellyn the mild.\" 29. Cadwallo and Urien were bards of whose songs nothing has been preserved. Taliessin (see 121 below) dedicated many poems to the latter, and wrote an elegy on his death: he was slain by treachery in the year 560. 30. That hush'd the stormy main. Cf. Shakes. M. N. D. ii. 2: \"Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song.\" 33. Modred. This name is not found in the lists of the old bards. It may have been borrowed from the Arthurian legends; or, as Mitford suggests, it may refer to \"the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of Taliessin, the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony.\" 34. Plinlimmon. One of the loftiest of the Welsh mountains, being 2463 feet in height. It is really a group of mountains, three of which tower high above the others, and on each of these is a carnedd, or pile of stones. The highest of the three is further divided into two peaks, and on these, as well as on another prominent part of the same height, are other piles of stones. These five piles, according to the common tradition, mark the graves of slain warriors, and serve as memorials of their exploits; but some believe that they were intended as landmarks or military signals, and that from them the mountain was called Pumplumon or Pumlumon, \"the five beacons\"a name somehow corrupted into Plinlimmon. Five rivers take their rise in the recesses of Plinlimmonthe Wye, the Severn, the Rheidol, the Llyfnant, and the Clywedog. 35. Arvon's shore. \"The shores of Caernarvonshire, opposite the isle of Anglesey\" (Gray). Caernarvon, or Caer yn Arvon, means the camp in Arvon. 38. \"Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welsh Craigianeryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowdon is called the Eagle's Nest. That bird is certainly no stranger to this island, as the Scots, and the people of Cumberland, Westmoreland, etc., can testify; it even has built its nest in the peak of Derbyshire see Willoughby's Ornithology, published by Ray\" (Gray). 40. Dear as the light. Cf. Virgil, n. iv. 31: \"O luce magis dilecta sorori.\" 41. Dear as the ruddy drops. Gray quotes Shakes. J. C. ii. 1: \"As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.\" Cf. also Otway, Venice Preserved: \"Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life, Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee.\" 42. Wakefield quotes Pope: \"And greatly falling with a fallen state;\" and Dryden: \"And couldst not fall but with thy country's fate.\" 44. Grisly. See on Eton Coll. 82. Cf. Lycidas, 52: \"the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie.\" 48. \"See the Norwegian ode that follows\" (Gray). This ode (The Fatal Sisters, translated from the Norse) describes the Valkyriur, \"the choosers of the slain,\" or warlike Fates of the Gothic mythology, as weaving the destinies of those who were doomed to perish in battle. It begins thus: \"Now the storm begins to lower (Haste, the loom of hell prepare), Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. \"Glittering lances are the loom, Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom, Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.       \"Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along; Swords, that once a monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong.       \"(Weave the crimson web of war) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die.\" 51. Cf. Dryden, Sebastian, i. 1: \"I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more.\" 55. \"Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle\" (Gray). The 1st ed. and that of 1768 have \"roofs;\" the modern eds. \"roof.\" Berkeley Castle is on the southeast side of the town of Berkeley, on a height commanding a fine view of the Severn and the surrounding country, and is in a state of perfect preservation. It is said to have been founded by Roger de Berkeley soon after the Norman Conquest. About the year 1150 it was granted by Henry II. to Robert Fitzhardinge, Governor of Bristol, who strengthened and enlarged it. On the right of the great staircase leading to the keep, and approached by a gallery, is the room in which it is supposed that Edward II. was murdered, Sept. 21, 1327. The king, during his captivity here, composed a dolorous poem, of which the following is an extract: \"Moste blessed Jesu, Roote of all vertue, Graunte I may the sue, In all humylyte, Sen thou for our good, Lyste to shede thy blood, An stretche the upon the rood, For our iniquyte. I the beseche, Most holsome leche, That thou wylt seche For me such grace, That when my body vyle My soule shall exyle Thou brynge in short wyle It in reste and peace.\" Walpole, who visited the place in 1774, says: \"The room shown for the murder of Edward II., and the shrieks of an agonizing king, I verily believe to be genuine. It is a dismal chamber, almost at the top of the house, quite detached, and to be approached only by a kind of footbridge, and from that descends a large flight of steps, that terminates on strong gates; exactly a situation for a corps de garde.\" 56. Cf. Hume's description: \"The screams with which the agonizing king filled the castle.\" 57. Shewolf of France. \"Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen\" (Gray). Cf. Shakes. 3 Hen. VI. i. 4: \"Shewolf of France, but worse than wolves of France;\" and read the context. 60. \"Triumphs of Edward the Third in France\" (Gray). 61. Cf. Cowley: \"Ruin behind him stalks, and empty desolation;\" and Oldham, Ode to Homer: \"Where'er he does his dreadful standard bear, Horror stalks in the van, and slaughter in the rear.\" 63. For victor the MS. has \"conqueror;\" also in next line \"the\" for his; and in 65, \"what ... what\" for no ... no. 64. \"Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress\" (Gray). 67. \"Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father\" (Gray). 69. The MS. has \"hover'd in thy noontide ray,\" and in the next line \"the rising day.\" In Agrippina, a fragment of a tragedy, published among the posthumous poems of Gray, we have the same figure: \"around thee call The gilded swarm that wantons in the sunshine Of thy full favour.\" 71. \"Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissard and other contemporary writers\" (Gray). For this line and the remainder of the stanza, the MS. has the following: \"Mirrors of Saxon truth and loyalty, Your helpless, old, expiring master view! They hear not: scarce religion does supply Her mutter'd requiems, and her holy dew. Yet thou, proud boy, from Pomfret's walls shalt send A sigh, and envy oft thy happy grandsire's end.\" On the passage as it stands, cf. Shakes. M. of V. ii. 6: \"How like a younger, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,\" etc. Also Spenser, Visions of World's Vanitie, ix: \"Looking far foorth into the Ocean wide, A goodly ship with banners bravely dight, And flag in her topgallant, I espide Through the maine sea making her merry flight. Faire blew the winde into her bosome right; And th' heavens looked lovely all the while That she did seeme to daunce, as in delight, And at her owne felicitie did smile,\" etc.; and again, Visions of Petrarch, ii.: \"After, at sea a tall ship did appeare, Made all of heben and white yvorie; The sailes of golde, of silke the tackle were: Milde was the winde, calme seem'd the sea to bee, The skie eachwhere did show full bright and faire: With rich treasures this gay ship fraighted was: But sudden storme did so turmoyle the aire, And tumbled up the sea, that she (alas) Strake on a rock, that under water lay, And perished past all recoverie.\" See also Milton, S. A. 710 foll. 72. The azure realm. Cf. Virgil, Ciris, 483: \"Caeruleo pollens conjunx Neptunia regno.\" 73. Note the alliteration. Cf. Dryden, Annus Mirab. st. 151: \"The goodly London, in her gallant trim, The phoenixdaughter of the vanish'd old, Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold.\" 75. Sweeping whirlwind's sway. Cf. the posthumous fragment by Gray on Education and Government, 48: \"And where the deluge burst with sweepy sway.\" The expression is from Dryden, who uses it repeatedly; as in Geo. i. 483: \"And rolling onwards with a sweepy sway;\" Ov. Met.: \"Rushing onwards with a sweepy sway;\" n. vii.: \"The branches bend beneath their sweepy sway,\" etc. 76. That hush'd in grim repose, etc. Cf. Dryden, Sigismonda and Guiscardo, 242: \"So, like a lion that unheeded lay, Dissembling sleep, and watchful to betray, With inward rage he meditates his prey;\" and Absalom and Achitophel, 447: \"And like a lion, slumbering in the way, Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey.\" 77. \"Richard the Second (as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older writers) was starved to death. The story of his assassination by Sir Piers of Exon is of much later date\" (Gray). 79. Reft of a crown. Wakefield quotes Mallet's ballad of William and Margaret: \"Such is the robe that kings must wear When death has reft their crown.\" 82. A baleful smile. The MS. has \"A smile of horror on.\" Cf. Milton, P. L. ii. 846: \"Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile.\" Illustration: THE TRAITOR'S GATE OF THE TOWER. 83. \"Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster\" (Gray). Cf. P. L. vi. 209: \"Arms on armour clashing brayed.\" 84. Cf. Shakes. 1 Hen. IV. iv. 1: \"Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse;\" and Massinger, Maid of Honour: \"Man to man, and horse to horse.\" 87. \"Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, etc., believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Csar\" (Gray). The MS. has \"Grim towers.\" 88. Murther. See on murthorous, p. 105. 89. His consort. \"Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her crown\" (Gray). His father. \"Henry the Fifth\" (Gray). Illustration: HENRY V. 90. The meek usurper. \"Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown\" (Gray). See on Eton Coll. 4. The MS. has \"hallow'd head.\" 91. The rose of snow, etc. \"The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster\" (Gray). Cf. Shakes. 1 Hen. VI. ii. 4: \"No, Plantagenet, 'Tis not for shame, but anger, that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses.\" 93. The bristled boar. \"The silver boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of the Boar\" (Gray). Scott (notes to Lay of Last Minstrel) says: \"The crest or bearing of a warrior was often used as a nom de guerre. Thus Richard III. acquired his wellknown epithet, 'the Boar of York.'\" Cf. Shakes. Rich. III. iv. 5: \"this most bloody boar;\" v. 2: \"The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,\" etc. 98. See on 48 above. 99. Half of thy heart. \"Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known.2 The monuments of his regret and sorrow for the loss of her3 are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places\" (Gray). Cf. Horace, Od. i. 3, 8: \"animae dimidium meae.\" Footnote 2: See Tennyson, Dream of Fair Women: \"Or her who knew that Love can vanquish Death, Who kneeling, with one arm about her king, Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath, Sweet as new buds in spring.\" Footnote 3: Gray refers to the \"Eleanor crosses,\" erected at the places where the funeral procession halted each night on the journey from Hardby, in Nottinghamshire (near Lincoln), where the queen died, to Westminster. Of the thirteen (or, as some say, fifteen) crosses only three now remainat Northampton, Geddington, and Waltham. The one at Charing Cross in London has been replaced by a facsimile of the original. These monuments were all exquisite works of Gothic art, fitting memorials of la chre Reine, \"the beloved of all England,\" as Walsingham calls her. 101. Nor thus forlorn. In MS. \"nor here forlorn;\" in next line, \"Leave your despairing Caradoc to mourn;\" in 103, \"yon black clouds;\" in 104, \"They sink, they vanish;\" in 105, \"But oh! what scenes of heaven on Snowdon's height;\" in 106, \"their golden skirts.\" 107. Cf. Dryden, State of Innocence, iv. 1: \"Their glory shoots upon my aching sight.\" 109. \"It was the common belief of the Welsh nation that King Arthur was still alive in Fairyland, and would return again to reign over Britain\" (Gray). In the MS. this line and the next read thus: \"From Cambria's thousand hills a thousand strains Triumphant tell aloud, another Arthur reigns.\" 110. \"Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor\" (Gray). 111. Many a baron bold. Cf. L'Allegro, 119: \"throngs of knights and barons bold.\" The reading in the MS. is, \"Youthful knights, and barons bold, With dazzling helm, and horrent spear.\" 112. Their starry fronts. Cf. Milton, Ode on the Passion, 18: \"His starry front;\" Statius, Theb. 613: \"Heu! ubi siderei vultus.\" 115. A form divine. Elizabeth. Wakefield quotes Spenser's eulogy of the queen, Shep. Kal. Apr.: \"Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face, Like Phoebe fayre? Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace, Can you well compare? The Redde rose medled with the White yfere, In either cheeke depeincten lively chere; Her modest eye, Her Majestie, Where have you seene the like but there?\" 117. \"Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialinski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she, lionlike rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princelie checkes'\" (Gray). The MS. reads \"A lionport, an awecommanding face.\" 121. \"Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen\" (Gray). As Hales remarks, there is no authority for connecting him with Arthur, as Tennyson does in his Holy Grail. 123. Cf. Congreve, Ode to Lord Godolphin: \"And soars with rapture while she sings.\" 124. The eye of heaven. Wakefield quotes Spenser, F. Q. 1. 3. 4, \"Her angel's face As the great eye of heaven shined bright.\" Cf. Shakes. Rich. II. iii. 2: \"the searching eye of heaven.\" Manycolour'd wings. Cf. Shakes. Temp. iv. 1: \"Hail, manycolour'd messenger;\" and Milton, P. L. iii. 642: \"Wings he wore Of many a colour'd plume sprinkled with gold.\" 126. Gray quotes Spenser, F. Q. Proeme, 9: \"Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song.\" 128. \"Shakespeare\" (Gray). Cf. Il Penseroso, 102: \"the buskin'd stage;\" that is, the tragic stage. 129. Pleasing pain. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. vi. 9, 10: \"sweet pleasing payne;\" and Dryden, Virg. Ecl. iii. 171: \"Pleasing pains of love.\" 131. \"Milton\" (Gray). 133. \"The succession of poets after Milton's time\" (Gray). 135. Fond. Foolish. See on Prog. of Poesy, 46. On the couplet, cf. Dekker, If this be not a good play, etc.: \"Thinkest thou, base lord, Because the glorious Sun behind black clouds Has awhile hid his beams, he's darken'd forever, Eclips'd never more to shine?\" 137. Cf. Lycidas, 169: \"And yet anon repairs his drooping head;\" and Fletcher, Purple Island, vi. 64: \"So soon repairs her light, trebling her newborn raies.\" 141. Mitford remarks that there is a passage (which he misquotes, as usual) in the Thebaid of Statius (iii. 81) similar to this, describing a bard who had survived his companions: \"Sed jam nudaverat ensem Magnanimus vates, et nunc trucis ora tyranni, Nunc ferrum adspectans: 'Nunquam tibi sanguinis hujus Jus erit, aut magno feries imperdita Tydeo Pectora; vado equidem exsultans et ereptaque fata Insequor, et comites feror expectatus ad umbras; Te Superis, fratrique.' Et jam media orsa loquentis Abstulerat plenum capulo latus.\" Cf. also a passage in Pindar (Olymp. i. 184), which Gray seems to have had in mind: Greek: Ei se te touton Hupsou chronon patein, eme Te tossade nikaphorois Homilein, k. t. l. 143. Cf. Virgil, Ecl. viii. 59: \"Praeceps arii specula de montis in undas Deferar; extremum hoc munus morientis habeto.\" As we have given Johnson's criticism on The Progress of Poesy, we append his comments on this \"Sister Ode:\" \"'The Bard' appears, at the first view, to be, as Algarotti and others have remarked, an imitation of the prophecy of Nereus. Algarotti thinks it superior to its original; and, if preference depends only on the imagery and animation of the two poems, his judgment is right. There is in 'The Bard' more force, more thought, and more variety. But to copy is less than to invent, and the copy has been unhappily produced at a wrong time. The fiction of Horace was to the Romans credible; but its revival disgusts us with apparent and unconquerable falsehood. Incredulus odi. \"To select a singular event, and swell it to a giant's bulk by fabulous appendages of spectres and predictions, has little difficulty; for he that forsakes the probable may always find the marvellous. And it has little use; we are affected only as we believe; we are improved only as we find something to be imitated or declined. I do not see that 'The Bard' promotes any truth, moral or political. \"His stanzas are too long, especially his epodes; the ode is finished before the ear has learned its measures, and consequently before it can receive pleasure from their consonance and recurrence. \"Of the first stanza the abrupt beginning has been celebrated; but technical beauties can give praise only to the inventor. It is in the power of any man to rush abruptly upon his subject, that has read the ballad of 'Johnny Armstrong,' 'Is there ever a man in all Scotland' \"The initial resemblances, or alliterations, 'ruin, ruthless, helm or hauberk,' are below the grandeur of a poem that endeavours at sublimity. \"In the second stanza the Bard is well described; but in the third we have the puerilities of obsolete mythology. When we are told that 'Cadwallo hush'd the stormy main,' and that 'Modred made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloudtopt head,' attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it was first heard, was heard with scorn. \"The weaving of the windingsheet he borrowed, as he owns, from the Northern Bards; but their texture, however, was very properly the work of female powers, as the act of spinning the thread of life is another mythology. Theft is always dangerous; Gray has made weavers of slaughtered bards by a fiction outrageous and incongruous. They are then called upon to 'Weave the warp, and weave the woof,' perhaps with no great propriety; for it is by crossing the woof with the warp that men weave the web or piece; and the first line was dearly bought by the admission of its wretched correspondent, 'Give ample room and verge enough.' He has, however, no other line as bad. \"The third stanza of the second ternary is commended, I think, beyond its merit. The personification is indistinct. Thirst and Hunger are not alike; and their features, to make the imagery perfect, should have been discriminated. We are told, in the same stanza, how 'towers are fed.' But I will no longer look for particular faults; yet let it be observed that the ode might have been concluded with an action of better example; but suicide is always to be had, without expense of thought.\" Illustration: \"Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame!\" Illustration: HEAD OF OLYMPIAN JOVE. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. This poem first appeared in Dodsley's Collection, vol. iv., together with the \"Elegy in a Country Churchyard.\" In Mason's and Wakefield's editions it is called an \"Ode,\" but the title given by the author is as above. The motto from schylus is not in Dodsley, but appears in the first edition of the poems (1768) in the form given in the text. The best modern editions of schylus have the reading, Greek: ton (some, ti) pathei mathos. Keck translates the passage into German thus: \"Ihn der uns zur Sinnigkeit leitet, ihn der fest den Satz Stellet, 'Lehre durch das Leid.'\" Plumptre puts it into English as follows: \"Yea, Zeus, who leadeth men in wisdom's way, And fixeth fast the law Wisdom by pain to gain.\" Cf. Mrs. Browning's Vision of Poets: \"Knowledge by suffering entereth, And life is perfected by death.\" 1. Mitford remarks: \"Greek: At, who may be called the goddess of Adversity, is said by Homer to be the daughter of Jupiter (Il. Greek: t. 91: Greek: presba Dios thugatr At, h pantas aatai). Perhaps, however, Gray only alluded to the passage of schylus which he quoted, and which describes Affliction as sent by Jupiter for the benefit of man.\" The latter is the more probable explanation. 2. Mitford quotes Pope, Dunciad, i. 163: \"Then he: 'Great tamer of all human art.'\" 3. Torturing hour. Cf. Milton, P. L. ii. 90: \"The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the torturing hour, Calls us to penance.\" 5. Adamantine chains. Wakefield quotes schylus, Prom. Vinct. vi.: Greek: Adamantinn desmn en arrktois pedais. Cf. Milton, P. L. i. 48: \"In adamantine chains and penal fire;\" and Pope, Messiah, 47: \"In adamantine chains shall Death be bound.\" 7. Purple tyrants. Cf. Pope, Two Choruses to Tragedy of Brutus: \"Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand.\" Wakefield cites Horace, Od. i. 35, 12: \"Purpurei metuunt tyranni.\" 8. With pangs unfelt before. Cf. Milton, P. L. ii. 703: \"Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.\" 912. Cf. Bacon, Essays, v. (ed. 1625): \"Certainly, Vertue is like pretious Odours, most fragrant when they are incensed that is, burned, or crushed:1 For Prosperity doth best discover Vice;2 But Adversity doth best discover Vertue.\" Footnote 1: So in his Apophthegms, 253, Bacon says: \"Mr. Bettenham said: that virtuous men were like some herbs and spices, that give not their sweet smell till they be broken or crushed.\" Footnote 2: Cf. Shakespeare, Julius Csar, ii. 1: \"It is the bright day that brings forth the adder.\" Cf. also Thomson: \"If Misfortune comes, she brings along The bravest virtues. And so many great Illustrious spirits have convers'd with woe, Have in her school been taught, as are enough To consecrate distress, and make ambition E'en wish the frown beyond the smile of fortune.\" 16. Cf. Virgil, n. i. 630: \"Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.\" 18. Folly's idle brood. Cf. the opening lines of Il Penseroso: \"Hence, vain deluding Joys, The brood of Folly, without father bred!\" 20. Mitford quotes Oldham, Ode: \"And know I have not yet the leisure to be good.\" 22. The summer friend. Cf. Geo. Herbert, Temple: \"like summer friends, flies of estates and sunshine;\" Quarles, Sion's Elegies, xix.: \"Ah, summer friendship with the summer ends;\" Massinger, Maid of Honour: \"O summer friendship.\" See also Shakespeare, T. of A. iii. 6: \"2d Lord. The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship. \"Timon aside. Nor more willingly leaves winter; such summerbirds are men;\" and T. and C. iii. 3: \"For men, like butterflies, Shew not their mealy wings but to the summer.\" Mitford suggests that Gray had in mind Horace, Od. i. 35, 25: \"At vulgus infidum et meretrix retro Perjura cedit; diffugiunt cadis Cum faece siccatis amici Ferre jugum pariter dolosi.\" 25. In sable garb. Cf. Milton, Il Pens. 16: \"O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.\" 28. With leaden eye. Evidently suggested by Milton's description of Melancholy, Il Pens. 43: \"Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes; There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast.\" Mitford cites Sidney, Astrophel and Stella, song 7: \"So leaden eyes;\" Dryden, Cymon and Iphigenia, 57: \"And stupid eyes that ever lov'd the ground;\" Shakespeare, Pericles, i. 2: \"The sad companion, dulleyed Melancholy;\" and L. L. L. iv. 3: \"In leaden contemplation.\" Cf. also The Bard, 69, 70. 31. To herself severe. Cf. Carew: \"To servants kind, to friendship dear, To nothing but herself severe;\" and Dryden: \"Forgiving others, to himself severe;\" and Waller: \"The Muses' friend, unto himself severe.\" Mitford quotes several other similar passages. 32. The sadly pleasing tear. Rogers cites Dryden's \"sadly pleasing thought\" (Virgil's n. x.); and Mitford compares Thomson's \"lenient, not unpleasing tear.\" 35. Gorgon terrors. Cf. Milton, P. L. ii. 611: \"Medusa with Gorgonian terror.\" 3640. Cf. Ode on Eton College, 5570 and 8190. 4548. Cf. Shakespeare, As You Like It, ii. 1: \"these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;\" and Mallet: \"Who hath not known illfortune, never knew Himself, or his own virtue.\" Guizot, in his Cromwell, says: \"The effect of supreme and irrevocable misfortune is to elevate those souls which it does not deprive of all virtue;\" and Sir Philip Sidney remarks: \"A noble heart, like the sun, showeth its greatest countenance in its lowest estate.\" Illustration: \"Now rolling down the steep amain, Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.\" The Progress of Poesy, 10. APPENDIX TO NOTES. Just as this book is going to press we have received The Quarterly Review (London) for January, 1876, which contains an interesting paper on \"Wordsworth and Gray.\" After quoting Wordsworth's remark that \"Gray was at the head of those poets who, by their reasonings, have attempted to widen the space of separation between prose and metrical composition, and was, more than any other man, curiously elaborate in the construction of his own poetic diction,\" the reviewer remarks: \"The indictment, then, brought by Wordsworth against Gray is twofold. Gray, it seems, had in the first place a false conception of the nature of poetry; and, secondly, a false standard of poetical diction. To begin with the first count, Gray, we are told, sought to widen the space of separation betwixt prose and metrical composition. What this charge amounts to we shall see hereafter. Meantime, did Wordsworth think that between prose and poetry there was any line of demarcation at all? In the Preface to the \"Lyrical Ballads\" from which we have quoted we read: \"'There neither is nor can be any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical composition. We are fond of tracing the resemblance between Poetry and Painting, and accordingly we call them sisters; but where shall we find bonds of connection sufficiently strong to typify the connection betwixt prose and metrical composition?' \"Now this question admits of a very definite answer. Take the Iliad of Homer and a proposition of Euclid. Is it conceivable that the latter could have been expressed at all in metre, or the former expressed half so well in prose? If not, what is the reason? Is it not plain that the poem contains a predominant element of imagination and feeling which is absolutely excluded from the proposition? And in the same way it may be shown that whenever a man expresses himself properly in metre, the subjectmatter of his composition belongs to imagination or feeling; whenever he writes in prose his subject belongs to or (if the prose be fiction) intimately resembles matter of fact. We may decide then with certainty that the sphere of poetry lies in Imagination, and that the larger the amount of just liberty the Imagination enjoys, the better will be the poetry it produces. But then a further question arises, and this is the key of the whole position, How far does this liberty extend? Is Imagination absolute, supreme, and uncontrolled in its own sphere, or is it under the guidance and government of reason? That its dominion is not universal is obvious, but of its influence we are all conscious, and there is no exaggeration in the eloquent words of Pascal: \"'This mighty power, the perpetual antagonist of reason, which delights to show its ascendency by bringing her under its control and dominion, has created a second nature in man. It has its joys and its sorrows; its health, its sickness; its wealth, its poverty; it compels reason, in spite of herself, to believe, to doubt, to deny; it suspends the exercise of the senses, and imparts to them again an artificial acuteness; it has its follies and its wisdom; and the most perverse thing of all is that it fills its votaries with a complacency more full and complete even than that which reason can supply.' \"If such be the force of Imagination in active life, how absolute must be its dominion in poetry! And absolute it is, if we are to believe Wordsworth, who defines poetry to be 'the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotion.' This definition coincides well with modern notions on the nature of the art. But how different is the view if we turn from theory to practice! It would surely be a serious mistake to describe the noblest poems, like the 'neid' or 'Paradise Lost,' as the product of mere spontaneous emotion. And even in lyric verse, to which it may be said Wordsworth is specially alluding, we find the greatest poets, like Pindar and Simonides, composing their odes for set occasions like the public games, in honour of persons with whom they were but little acquainted, and (most significant fact of all) in the expectation of receiving liberal rewards. We need not say that such considerations detract nothing from the genius of these great poets; but they prove very conclusively that poetry is not what Wordsworth's definition asserts, and what in these days it is too often assumed to be, the mere gush of unconscious inspiration. The definition of Wordsworth may perhaps suit short lyrics, such as he was himself in the habit of composing, but it would be fatal to the claims of poetry to rank among the higher arts, for it would exclude that quality which, in poetry as in all art, is truly sovereign, Invention. The poet, no less than the mechanical inventor, excels by the exercise of reason, by his knowledge of the required effect, his power of adapting means to ends, and his skill in availing himself of circumstances. Consider for a moment the external difficulties which restrict the poet's liberty, and require the most vigorous efforts of reason to subdue them. To begin with, in order to secure the happy result promised by Horace, 'Cui lecta potenter erit res Nec facundia deseret hunc nec lucidus ordo,' he has to take the exact measure of his own powers. How many a poet has failed for want of judgment by trespassing on a subject and style for which his genius is unfitted! Again, he is confronted by the most obvious difficulties of language and metre, which limit his freedom to a degree unknown to the prosewriter. And beyond this, if he wishes to be readand a poem without readers is no more than a musical instrument without a musicianhe has to consider the character of his audience. He must have all the instinct of an orator, all the intuitive knowledge of the world, as well as all the practical resource, which are required to gain command over the hearts of men, and to subdue, by the charms of eloquence, their passions, their prejudices, and their judgment. To achieve such results something more is required than 'the spontaneous overflow of powerful feeling.' \"How far Wordsworth's own poetry illustrates his principles we shall consider presently; meantime his definition helps us to understand what he meant by Gray's fault of widening the space of separation betwixt prose and metrical composition. Neither in respect of the quantity nor the quality of his verse could Gray's manner of composition be described as spontaneous. Compared with Wordsworth's numerous volumes of poetry, the slender volume that contains the poetry of Gray looks meagre indeed; yet almost every poem in this small collection is a considered work of art. To begin with 'The Bard.' Few readers, we suppose, would rise from this ode without a sense of its poetical 'effect.' The details may be thought to require too much attention; the allusions, from the nature of the subject, are, no doubt, difficult; but a feeling of loftiness, of harmony, of proportion, remains in the mind at the close of the poem, which is not likely to pass away. How, then, was this effect produced? First of all we see that Gray had selected a good subject; his raw materials, so to speak, were poetical. The imagination, unembarrassed by common associations, breathes freely in its own region, and is instinctively elevated as it moves among the great events of the past, dwelling on the misfortunes of monarchs, the rise of dynasties, and the splendours of literature. But, in the second place, when he has chosen his subject, it is the part of the poet to impress the great ideas derived from it on the feelings and the memory by the distinctness of the form under which he presents it; and here poetical invention first begins to work. By the imaginative fiction of 'The Bard,' Gray is enabled to cast the whole course of English history into the form of a prophecy, and to excite the patriotic feelings of the reader, as Virgil roused the pride of his own countrymen by Anchises' forecast of the grandeur of Rome. Finally, when the main design of the poem is thus conceived, observe with what art all the different parts are made to emphasize the beauty of the general conception; with what dramatic propriety the calamities of the conquering Plantagenet are prophesied by his vanquished foe; while on the other hand, the literary glories of the Tudor Elizabeth awaken the triumph of the patriot and the poet; how martial and spirited is the opening of the poem! how lofty and enthusiastic its close! Perhaps there is no English lyric which, animated by equal fervour, displays so much architectural genius as 'The Bard.' \"Take, again, the 'Ode on the Prospect of Eton College.' A subject better adapted far the indulgence of personal feeling, or for those sentimental confidences between the reader and the poet, in which the modern muse so much delights, could not be imagined. But what do we find? The theme is treated in the most general manner. Though emphasizing the irony of his reflection by the beautiful touch of memory in the second stanza, the poet speaks throughout as a moralist or spectator; from first to last he seems to lose all thought of himself in contemplating the tragedies he foresees for others; the subject is in fact handled with the most skilful rhetoric, and every stanza is made to strengthen and elaborate the leading thought. In the 'Progress of Poesy,' though the general constructive effect is perhaps inferior to 'The Bard,' we see the same evidence of careful preconsideration, while the course of the poem is particularly distinguished by the beauty of the transitions. Of the form of the 'Elegy' it is superfluous to speak; a poem so dignified and yet so tender, appeals immediately, and will continue to appeal, to the heart of every Englishman, so long as the care of public liberty and love of the soil maintain their hold in this country. In this poem, as indeed in all that Gray ever wrote, we find it his first principle to prefer his subject to himself; he never forgot that while he was a man he was also an artist, and he knew that the function of art was not merely to indulge nature, but to dignify and refine it. \"Yet, in spite of his love of form, there is nothing frigid or statuesque in the genius of Gray. A vein of deep melancholy, evidently constitutional, runs through his poetry, and, considering how little he produced, the number of personal allusions in his verses is undoubtedly large. But he is entirely free from that egotism which we have had frequent occasion to blame as the prevailing vice of modern poetry. For whereas the modern poet thrusts his private feelings into prominence, and finds a luxury in the confession of his sorrows, Gray's references to himself are introduced on public grounds, or, in other words, with a view to poetical effect. He, like our own bards, is 'condemned to groan,' but for different reasons 'The tender for another's pain, The unfeeling for his own.' \"We have already remarked on the public character of the 'Ode on Eton College;' but the second stanza of this poem is a pure expression of individual feeling: 'Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields belov'd in vain! Where once my careless childhood play'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.' Every one will perceive the art which enforces the truth of the general reflections that follow by the personal experience of the speaker. Again, the 'Progress of Poesy' closes with a personal allusion which, as it is a climax, might, if illmanaged, have appeared arrogant, but which is, in fact, a masterpiece of oratory. After confessing his own inferiority to Pindar, the poet proceeds: 'Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray, With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun; Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way, Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how farbut far above the Great!' There is something very noble in the elevated manner in which the selfcomplacent triumph of genius, expressed by so many poets from Ennius downwards, is at once justified and chastened by the reflection in these lines. We see in them that the poet alludes to himself in the third person, and he repeats this style in the 'Elegy,' where, after the fourth line, the first personal pronoun is never again used. How just and beautiful is the turn where, after contemplating the general lot of the lowly society he is celebrating, he proceeds to identify his own fate with theirs: 'For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If, chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 'Haply some hoaryheaded swain may say,' etc. \"The two great characteristics of Gray's poetry that we have noticedhis selfsuppression and his sense of form and dignityare best described by the word 'classical.' What we particularly admire in the great authors of Greece and Rome is their public spirit. Their writings are full of patriotism, goodbreeding, and commonsense, and have that happy mixture of art and nature which is only acquired by men who have learned from liberty how to discipline individual instincts by social refinement. Their style is masculine, clear, and moderate; they seem, as it were, never to lose the sense of being before an audience, and, like orators who know that they are always exposed to the judgment of their intellectual equals, they aim at putting intelligible thoughts into the most natural and forcible words. Precisely the same qualities are observable in all the best English writers of the eighteenth century. Addison, Pope, and Goldsmith are perhaps the most shining examples, but the rest are 'classical' in the sense which we have just indicated; and we can hardly be wrong in ascribing this common rhetorical instinct to the intimate connection between the men of thought and the men of action, which existed both in the free states of antiquity, and in England under the rule of the aristocracy. With the advance of the eighteenth century the instinct in English literature seems to grow weaker; the style of our authors becomes more formal and constrained, and symptoms of that dislike of society encouraged by the philosophy of Rousseau more frequently betray themselves. As the poetry of Cowper shows less social instinct than that of Gray, so Gray himself is inferior in this respect to Pope and Goldsmith. But his style has the same lofty public spirit that distinguishes his favourite models, and no worthier form could be imagined to express the ardour excited in the heart of a patriotic poet by the rising fortunes of his native country. We feel that it is in every way fitting that the author of the 'Elegy' should have been the favourite of Wolfe and the countryman of Chatham.\" Illustration: CLIO, THE MUSE OF HISTORY. INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. olian, 109. afield, 86. amain, 110. antic, 111. Arvon, 125. Attic warbler, 95. Berkeley, 126. boar (of Richard III.), 130. broke (broken), 86. buskined, 132. buxom, 104. Cadwallo, 125. Caernarvon, 125. captive (proleptic), 104. chance (adverb), 91. cheer, 104. churchway, 92. curfew, 83. customed, 92. Cytherea, 111. Delphi, 114. fond (foolish), 111, 132. fretted, 87. glister, 99. Gloster, 124. Gorgon, 137. graved, 93. grisly, 105, 126. grove (graved), 93. haggard, 124. hauberk, 123. Helicon, 109. Hoel, 124. honied, 96. Hor, 94. Hyperion, 112. Idalia, 110. Ilissus, 114. jet, 99. leaden (eye), 136. lionport, 132. little (petty), 89. Llewellyn, 124. longexpecting, 95. Mander, 114. margent, 104. Modred, 125. Mortimer, 124. murther, 129. murtherous, 105. nightly (nocturnal), 123. parting (departing), 83. pious (pius), 90. Plinlimmon, 125. provoke (provocare), 87. purple, 95, 111, 135. rage, 88. repair, 132. repeat, 113. rose (of snow), 130. rushy, 96. shaggy, 123. shell (lyre), 110. slowconsuming, 105. Snowdon, 123. solemnbreathing, 110. summer friend, 136. tabby, 99. Taliessin, 132. tempered, 110. Thracia, 110. Tyrian, 99. upland, 91. Urien, 125. velvetgreen, 110. woefulwan, 92. ye (accusative), 103."
  },
  {
    "text": "FRAGMENTS OF ANCIENT POETRY By James Macpherson The Augustan Reprint Society Introduction By John J. Dunn GENERAL EDITORS George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library ADVISORY EDITORS Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan James L. Clifford, Columbia University Ralph Cohen, University of California, Los Angeles Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago Louis A. Landa, Princeton University Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library James Sutherland, University College, London H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles CORRESPONDING SECRETARY Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library INTRODUCTION Byron was actually the third Scotsman in about fifty years who awoke and found himself famous; the sudden rise from obscurity to international fame had been experienced earlier by two fellow countrymen, Sir Walter Scott and James Macpherson. Considering the greatness of the reputation of the two younger writers, it may seem strange to link their names with Macpherson's, but in the early nineteenth century it would not have seemed so odd. In fact, as young men both Scott and Byron would have probably have been flattered by such an association. Scott tells us that in his youth he \"devoured rather than perused\" Ossian and that he could repeat whole duans \"without remorse\"; and, as I shall discuss later, Byron paid Macpherson the high compliment of writing an imitation of Ossian, which he published in Hours of Idleness. The publication of the modest and anonymous pamphlet, Fragments of Ancient Poetry marks the beginning of Macpherson's rise to fame, and concomitantly the start of a controversy that is unique in literary history. For the halfcentury that followed, the body of poetry that was eventually collected as The Poems of Ossian provoked the comment of nearly every important man of letters. Extravagance and partisanship were characteristic of most of the remarks, but few literary men were indifferent. The intensity and duration of the controversy are indicative of how seriously Macpherson's work was taken, for it was to many readers of the day daring, original, and passionate. Even Malcolm Laing, whose ardor in exposing Macpherson's imposture exceeded that of Dr. Johnson, responded to the literary quality of the poems. In a note on the fourth and fifth \"Fragments\" the arch prosecutor of Macpherson commented, \"From a singular coincidence of circumstances, it was in this house, where I now write, that I first read the poems in my early youth, with an ardent credulity that remained unshaken for many years of my life; and with a pleasure to which even the triumphant satisfaction of detecting the imposture is comparatively nothing. The enthusiasm with which I read and studied the poems, enabled me afterwards, when my suspicions were once awakened, to trace and expose the deception with greater success. Yet, notwithstanding the severity of minute criticism, I can still peruse them as a wild and wonderful assemblage of imitation with which the fancy is often pleased and gratified, even when the judgment condemns them most.\"2 II It was John Home, famous on both sides of the Tweed as the author of Douglas, who first encouraged Macpherson to undertake his translations. While taking the waters at Moffat in the fall of 1759, he was pleased to meet a young Highland tutor, who was not only familiar with ancient Gaelic poetry but who had in his possession several such poems. Home, like nearly all of the Edinburgh literati, knew no Gaelic and asked Macpherson to translate one of them. The younger man at first protested that a translation \"would give a very imperfect idea of the original,\" but Home \"with some difficulty\" persuaded him to try. In a \"day or two\" Macpherson brought him the poem that was to become \"Fragment VII\" in this collection; Home was so much pleased with it that he requested additional translations.3 \"Jupiter\" Carlyle, whose autobiography reflects the keen interest that he took in literature, arrived at Moffat after Home had seen the \"translations.\" Home, he found, \"had been highly delighted with them,\" and when Carlyle read them he \"was perfectly astonished at the poetical genius\" that they displayed. They agreed that \"it was a precious discovery, and that as soon as possible it should be published to the world.\"4 When Home left Moffat he took his find to Edinburgh and showed the translations to the men who earned the city Smollett's sobriquet, a \"hotbed of genius\": Robertson, fresh from the considerable success of his two volume History of Scotland (1759); Robert Fergusson, recently appointed professor of natural history at the University of Edinburgh; Lord Elibank, a learned aristocrat, who had been patron to Home and Robertson; and Hugh Blair, famous for the sermons that he delivered as rector of the High Church of St. Giles. Home was gratified that these men were \"no less pleased\" with Macpherson's work than he had been. David Hume and David Dalrymple (later Lord Hailes) were soon apprised of the discovery and joined in the chorus of approbation that emanated from the Scottish capitol. Blair became the spokesman and the leader for the Edinburgh literati, and for the next forty years he lavished his energy in praising and defending Macpherson's work. The translations came to him at the time that he was writing his lectures on belles lettres and was thus in the process of formulating his theories on the origins of poetry and the nature of the sublime. Blair lost no time in communicating with Macpherson: \"I being as much struck as Mr Home with the high spirit of poetry which breathed in them, presently made inquiry where Mr. Macpherson was to be found; and having sent for him to come to me, had much conversation with him on the subject.\"5 Macpherson told Blair that there were \"greater and more considerable poems of the same strain\" still extant in the Highlands; Blair like Home was eager for more, but Macpherson again declined to translate them. He said that he felt himself inadequate to render \"the spirit and force\" of the originals and that \"they would be very ill relished by the public as so very different from the strain of modern ideas, and of modern, connected, and polished poetry.\" This whetted Blair's interest even more, and after \"repeated importunity\" he persuaded Macpherson to translate more fragments. The result was the present volume, which Blair saw to the press and for which he wrote the Preface \"in consequence of the conversations\" that he had with Macpherson.6 Most of Blair's Preface does seem to be based on information supplied by Macpherson, for Blair had almost no firsthand knowledge about Highland poetry or its traditions. It is apparent from the Preface then, that Macpherson had not yet decided to ascribe the poems to a single poet; Ossian is one of the principal poets in the collection but the whole is merely ascribed \"to the bards\" (see pp. vvi). It is also evident from the Preface that Macpherson was shifting from the reluctant \"translator\" of a few \"fragments\" to the projector of a fulllength epic \"if enough encouragement were given for such an undertaking.\" Since Blair became famous for his Critical Dissertation on the Poems of Ossian (London, 1763), it may seem strange that in the Preface to the Fragments he declined to say anything of the \"poetical merit\" of the collection. The frank adulation of the longer essay, which concludes with the brave assertion that Ossian may be placed \"among those whose works are to last for ages,\"7 was partially a reflection of the enthusiasm that greeted each of Macpherson's successive publications. III Part of the appeal of the Fragments was obviously based on the presumption that they were, as Blair hastened to assure the reader, \"genuine remains of ancient Scottish poetry,\" and therefore provided a remarkable insight into a remote, primitive culture; here were maidens and warriors who lived in antiquity on the harsh, windswept wastes of the Highlands, but they were capable of highly refined and sensitive expressions of griefthey were the noblest savages of them all. For some readers the rumors of imposture served to dampen their initial enthusiasm, and such was the case with Hume, Walpole, and Boswell, but many of the admirers of the poems found them rapturous, authentic or not. After Gray had read several of the \"Fragments\" in manuscript he wrote to Thomas Warton that he had \"gone mad about them\"; he added, \"I was so struck, so extasi with their infinite beauty, that I writ into Scotland to make a thousand enquiries.... The whole external evidence would make one believe these fragments (for so he calls them, tho' nothing can be more entire) counterfeit: but the internal is so strong on the other side, that I am resolved to believe them genuine spite of the Devil  the Kirk.\" Gray concluded his remarks with the assertion that \"this Man is the very Demon of Poetry, or he has lighted on a treasure hid for ages.\"8 Nearly fifty years later Byron wrote a \"humble imitation\" of Ossian for the admirers of Macpherson's work and presented it as evidence of his \"attachment to their favorite author,\" even though he was aware of the imposture. In a note to \"The Death of Calmar and Orla,\" he commented, \"I fear Laing's late edition has completely overthrown every hope that Macpherson's Ossian might prove the translation of a series of poems complete in themselves; but while the imposture is discovered, the merit of the work remains undisputed, though not without faultsparticularly, in some parts, turgid and bombastic diction.\"9 In 1819 Hazlitt felt that Ossian is \"a feeling and a name that can never be destroyed in the minds of his readers,\" and he classed the work as one of the four prototypes of poetry along with the Bible, Homer, and Dante. On the question of authenticity he observed, \"If it were indeed possible to shew that this writer was nothing, it would be another instance of mutability, another blank made, another void left in the heart, another confirmation of that feeling which makes him so often complain, 'Roll on, ye dark brown years, ye bring no joy on your wing to Ossian!'\"10 There is some justice in Macpherson's wry assertion that \"those who have doubted my veracity have paid a compliment to my genius.\"11 By examining briefly the distinctive form of the \"Fragments,\" their diction, their setting, their tone, and their structure, we may sense something of the qualities of the poems that made them attractive to such men as Gray, Byron, and Hazlitt. IV Perhaps Macpherson's most important innovation was to cast his work into what his contemporaries called \"measured prose,\" and it was recognized early that this new form contributed greatly to their appeal. In discussing the Fragments, Ramsey of Ochtertyre commented, \"Nothing could be more happy or judicious than his translating in measured prose; for had he attempted it in verse, much of the spirit of the original would have evaporated, supposing him to have had talents and industry to perform that very arduous task upon a great scale. This small publication drew the attention of the literary world to a new species of poetry.\"12 For his new species of poetry Macpherson drew upon the stylistic techniques of the King James Version of the Bible, just as Blake and Whitman were to do later. As Bishop Lowth was the first to point out, parallelism is the basic structural technique. Macpherson incorporated two principal forms of parallelism in his poems: repetition, a pattern in which the second line nearly restates the sense of the first, and completion in which the second line picks up part of the sense of the first line and adds to it. These are both common in the Fragments, but a few examples may be useful. I have rearranged the following lines and in the other passages relating to the structure of the poems in order to call attention to the binary quality of Macpherson's verse: Repetition Who can reach the source of thy race, O Connal? And who recount thy Fathers? (\"Fragment V\") Oscur my son came down; The mighty in battle descended. (\"Fragment VI\") Oscur stood forth to meet him; My son would meet the foe. (\"Fragment VIII\") Future times shall hear of thee; They shall hear of the fallen Morar. (\"Fragment XII\") Completion What voice is that I hear? That voice like the summer wind. (\"Fragment I\") The warriours saw her, and loved; Their souls were fixed on the maid. Each loved her, as his fame; Each must possess her or die. But her soul was fixed on Oscur; My son was the youth of her love. (\"Fragment VII\") Macpherson also used grammatical parallelism as a structural device; a series of simple sentences is often used to describe a landscape: Autumn is dark on the mountains; Grey mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. (\"Fragment V\") The poems also have a discernible rhythmical pattern; the tendency of the lines to form pairs is obvious enough when there is semantic or grammatical parallelism, but there is a general binary pattern throughout. Typically, the first unit is a simple sentence, the second almost any grammatical structurean appositive, a prepositional phrase, a participle, the second element of a compound verb, a dependent clause. A similein grammatical terms, an adverbial phrasesometimes constitutes the second element. These pairs are often balanced roughly by the presence of two, three, or four accents in each constituent; there are a large number of imbedded iambic and anapestic feet, which give the rhythm an ascending quality: The daughter of Rinval was near; Crimora, bright in the armour of man; Her hair loose behind, Her bow in her hand. She followed the youth to war, Connal her much beloved. She drew the string on Dargo; But erring pierced her Connal. (\"Fragment V\") As E. H. W. Meyerstein pointed out, \"Macpherson can, without extravagance, be regarded as the main originator (after the translators of the Authorized Version) of what's known as 'free verse.\"13 Macpherson's work certainly served to stimulate prosodic experimentation during the next half century; it is certainly no coincidence that two of the boldest innovators, Blake and Coleridge, were admirers of Macpherson's work. Macpherson's diction must have also appealed to the growing taste for poetry that was less ornate and studied. His practice was to use a large number of concrete monosyllabic words of AngloSaxon origin to describe objects and forces common to rural life. A simple listing of the common nouns from the opening of \"Fragment I\" will serve to illustrate this tendency: love, son, hill, deer, dogs, bowstring, wind, stream, rushes, mist, oak, friends. Such diction bears an obvious kinship to what was to become the staple diction of the romantic lyric; for example, a similar listing from \"A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal\" would be this: slumber, spirit, fears, thing, touch, years, motion, force, course, rocks, stones, trees. The untamed power of Macpherson's wild natural settings is also striking. Samuel H. Monk has made the point well: \"Ossian's strange exotic wildness and his obscure, terrible glimpses of scenery were in essence something quite new.... Ossian's images were far from \"nature methodized.\" His imagination illumined fitfully a scene of mountains and blasted heaths, as artificially wild as his heroines were artificially sensitive; to modern readers they resemble too much the stagesettings of melodrama. But in 1760, his descriptions carried with them the thrill of the genuine and of navely archaic.\" And Monk adds, \"imperceptibly the Ossianic poems contributed toward converting Britons, nay, Europeans, into enthusiastic admirers of nature in her wilder moments.\"14 Ghosts are habitually present in the poems, and Macpherson is able to present them convincingly because they are described by a poet who treats them as though they were part of his and his audience's habitual experience. The supernatural world is so familiar, in fact, that it can be used to describe the natural; thus Minvane in \"Fragment VII\" is called as fair \"as the spirits of the hill when at silent noon they glide along the heath.\" As Patricia M. Spacks has observed, the supernatural seems to be a \"genuine part of the poetic texture\"; and she adds that \"within this poetic context, the supernatural seems convincing because believed in: it is part of the fabric of life for the characters of the poem. Ghosts in the Ossianic poems, almost uniquely in the mideighteenth century, seem genuinely to belong; to this particular poetic conception the supernatural does not seem extraneous.\"15 The Fragments was also a cause and a reflection of the rising appeal of the hero of sensibility, whose principal characteristic was that he could feel more intensely than the mass of humanity. The most common emotion that these acutely empathetic heroes felt was grief, the emotion that permeates the Fragments and the rest of Macpherson's work. It was the exquisite sensibility of Macpherson's heroes and heroines that the young Goethe was struck by; Werther, an Ossianic hero in his own way, comments, \"You should see what a silly figure I cut when she is mentioned in society! And then if I am even asked how I like herLike! I hate that word like death. What sort of person must that be who likes Lotte, in whom all senses, all emotions are not completely filled up by her! Like! Recently someone asked me how I like Ossian!\"16 That Macpherson chose to call his poems \"fragments\" is indicative of another quality that made them unusual in their day. The poems have a spontaneity that is suggested by the fact that the poets seem to be creating their songs as the direct reflection of an emotional experience. In contrast to the image of the poet as the orderer, the craftsman, the poets of the Fragments have a kind of artlessness (to us a very studied one, to be sure) that gave them an aura of sincerity and honesty. The poems are fragmentary in the sense that they do not follow any orderly, rational plan but seem to take the form that corresponds to the development of an emotional experience. As Macpherson told Blair they are very different from \"modern, connected, and polished poetry.\" V The Fragments proved an immediate success and Macpherson's Edinburgh patrons moved swiftly to raise enough money to enable the young Highlander to resign his position as tutor and to devote himself to collecting and translating the Gaelic poetry still extant in the Highlands. Blair recalled that he and Lord Elibank were instrumental in convening a dinner meeting that was attended by \"many of the first persons of rank and taste in Edinburgh,\" including Robertson, Home, and Fergusson.17 Robert Chalmers acted as treasurer; among the forty odd subscribers who contributed 60, were James Boswell and David Hume.18 By the time of the second edition of the Fragments (also in 1760), Blair, or more likely Macpherson himself, could inform the public in the \"Advertisement\" \"that measures are now taken for making a full collection of the remaining Scottish bards; in particular, for recovering and translating the heroic poem mentioned in the preface.\" Macpherson, a frugal man, included many of the \"Fragments\" in his later work. Sometimes he introduced them into the notes as being later than Ossian but in the same spirit; at other times he introduced them as episodes in the longer narratives. With the exception of Laing's edition, they are not set off, however, and anyone who wishes to see what caused the initial Ossianic fervor must consult the original volume. When we have to remind ourselves that a work of art was revolutionary in its day, we can be sure that we are dealing with something closer to cultural artifact than to art, and it must be granted that this is true of Macpherson's work; nevertheless, the fact that Ossian aroused the interest of major men of letters for fifty years is suggestive of his importance as an innovator. In a curious way, Macpherson's achievement has been overshadowed by the fact that many greater writers followed him and developed the artistic direction that he was among the first to take. NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION Footnote 1: See Scott's letter to Anna Seward in J. G. Lockhart, Memoirs of Sir Walter Scott (London, 1900), I, 41015. Footnote 2: The Poems of Ossian, ed. Malcolm Laing (Edinburgh, 1805), I, 441. Footnote 3: See Home's letter to Mackenzie in the Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1805), Appendix, pp. 6869. Footnote 4: Carlyle to Mackenzie, ibid., p. 66. Footnote 5: Blair to Mackenzie, ibid., p. 57. Footnote 6: Ibid., p. 58. Footnote 7: Quoted from The Poems of Ossian (London, 1807), I, 222. After its initial separate publication, Blair's dissertation was regularly included with the collected poems. Footnote 8: Correspondence of Thomas Gray, ed. Paget Toynbee and Leonard Whibley (Oxford, 1935), II, 67980. Footnote 9: The Works of Lord Byron, Poetry, ed. Ernest Hartley Coleridge (London, 1898), I, 183. Footnote 10: \"On Poetry in General,\" The Complete Works of William Hazlitt, ed. P. P. Howe (London, 1930), V, 18. Footnote 11: Quoted in Henry Grey Graham, Scottish Men of Letters in the Eighteenth Century (London, 1908), p. 240. Footnote 12: Scotland and Scotsmen in the Eighteenth Century, ed. Alexander Allardyce (Edinburgh, 1888), I, 547. Footnote 13: \"The Influence of Ossian,\" English, VII (1948), 96. Footnote 14: The Sublime (Ann Arbor, 1960), p. 126. Footnote 15: The Insistence of Horror (Cambridge, Mass., 1962), pp. 8687. Footnote 16: The Sufferings of Young Werther, trans. Bayard Morgan (New York, 1957), p. 51. Footnote 17: Report, Appendix, p. 58. Footnote 18: See Robert M. Schmitz, Hugh Blair (New York, 1948), p. 48. FRAGMENTS OF ANCIENT POETRY Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and Translated from the Galic or Erse Language \"Vos quoque qui fortes animas, belloque peremtas Laudibus in longum vates dimittitis aevuin, Plurima securi fudistis carmina Bardi.\" LUCAN PREFACE The public may depend on the following fragments as genuine remains of ancient Scottish poetry. The date of their composition cannot be exactly ascertained. Tradition, in the country where they were written, refers them to an ra of the most remote antiquity: and this tradition is supported by the spirit and strain of the poems themselves; which abound with those ideas, and paint those manners, that belong to the most early state of society. The diction too, in the original, is very obsolete; and differs widely from the style of such poems as have been written in the same language two or three centuries ago. They were certainly composed before the establishment of clanship in the northern part of Scotland, which is itself very ancient; for had clans been then formed and known, they must have made a considerable figure in the work of a Highland Bard; whereas there is not the least mention of them in these poems. It is remarkable that there are found in them no allusions to the Christian religion or worship; indeed, few traces of religion of any kind. One circumstance seems to prove them to be coeval with the very infancy of Christianity in Scotland. In a fragment of the same poems, which the translator has seen, a Culdee or Monk is represented as desirous to take down in writing from the mouth of Oscian, who is the principal personage in several of the following fragments, his warlike atchievements and those of his family. But Oscian treats the monk and his religion with disdain, telling him, that the deeds of such great men were subjects too high to be recorded by him, or by any of his religion: A full proof that Christianity was not as yet established in the country. Though the poems now published appear as detached pieces in this collection, there is ground to believe that most of them were originally episodes of a greater work which related to the wars of Fingal. Concerning this hero innumerable traditions remain, to this day, in the Highlands of Scotland. The story of Oscian, his son, is so generally known, that to describe one in whom the race of a great family ends, it has passed into a proverb; \"Oscian the last of the heroes.\" There can be no doubt that these poems are to be ascribed to the Bards; a race of men well known to have continued throughout many ages in Ireland and the north of Scotland. Every chief or great man had in his family a Bard or poet, whose office it was to record in verse, the illustrious actions of that family. By the succession of these Bards, such poems were handed down from race to race; some in manuscript, but more by oral tradition. And tradition, in a country so free of intermixture with foreigners, and among a people so strongly attached to the memory of their ancestors, has preserved many of them in a great measure incorrupted to this day. They are not set to music, nor sung. The verification in the original is simple; and to such as understand the language, very smooth and beautiful; Rhyme is seldom used: but the cadence, and the length of the line varied, so as to suit the sense. The translation is extremely literal. Even the arrangement of the words in the original has been imitated; to which must be imputed some inversions in the style, that otherwise would not have been chosen. Of the poetical merit of these fragments nothing shall here be said. Let the public judge, and pronounce. It is believed, that, by a careful inquiry, many more remains of ancient genius, no less valuable than those now given to the world, might be found in the same country where these have been collected. In particular there is reason to hope that one work of considerable length, and which deserves to be styled an heroic poem, might be recovered and translated, if encouragement were given to such an undertaking. The subject is, an invasion of Ireland by Swarthan King of Lochlyn; which is the name of Denmark in the Erse language. Cuchulaid, the General or Chief of the Irish tribes, upon intelligence of the invasion, assembles his forces. Councils are held; and battles fought. But after several unsuccescful engagements, the Irish are forced to submit. At length, Fingal King of Scotland, called in this poem, \"The Desert of the hills,\" arrives with his ships to assist Cuchulaid. He expels the Danes from the country; and returns home victorious. This poem is held to be of greater antiquity than any of the rest that are preserved. And the author speaks of himself as present in the expedition of Fingal. The three last poems in the collection are fragments which the translator obtained of this epic poem; and though very imperfect, they were judged not unworthy of being inserted. If the whole were recovered, it might serve to throw confiderable light upon the Scottish and Irish antiquities. FRAGMENT I SHILRIC, VINVELA. VINVELA My love is a son of the hill. He pursues the flying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him; his bowstring sounds in the wind. Whether by the fount of the rock, or by the stream of the mountain thou liest; when the rushes are nodding with the wind, and the mist is flying over thee, let me approach my love unperceived, and see him from the rock. Lovely I saw thee first by the aged oak; thou wert returning tall from the chace; the fairest among thy friends. SHILRIC. What voice is that I hear? that voice like the summerwind.I sit not by the nodding rushes; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela, afar I go to the wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me no more. No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I see thee, fairmoving by the stream of the plain; bright as the bow of heaven; as the moon on the western wave. VINVELA. Then thou art gone, O Shilric! and I am alone on the hill. The deer are seen on the brow; void of fear they graze along. No more they dread the wind; no more the rustling tree. The hunter is far removed; he is in the field of graves. Strangers! sons of the waves! spare my lovely Shilric. SHILRIC. If fall I must in the field, raise high my grave, Vinvela. Grey stones, and heapedup earth, shall mark me to future times. When the hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food at noon, \"some warrior rests here,\" he will say; and my fame shall live in his praise. Remember me, Vinvela, when low on earth I lie! VINVELA. Yes!I will remember theeindeed my Shilric will fall. What shall I do, my love! when thou art gone for ever? Through these hills I will go at noon: O will go through the silent heath. There I will see where often thou sattest returning from the chace. Indeed, my Shilric will fall; but I will remember him. II I sit by the mossy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is rustling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer descend from the hill. No hunter at a distance is seen; no whistling cowherd is nigh. It is midday: but all is silent. Sad are my thoughts as I sit alone. Didst thou but appear, O my love, a wanderer on the heath! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee; thy bosom heaving on the sight; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends, whom the mist of the hill had concealed! Thee I would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's house. But is it she that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath? bright as the moon in autumn, as the sun in a summerstorm?She speaks: but how weak her voice! like the breeze in the reeds of the pool. Hark! Returnest thou safe from the war? \"Where are thy friends, my love? I heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric!\" Yes, my fair, I return; but I alone of my race. Thou shalt see them no more: their graves I raised on the plain. But why art thou on the desert hill? why on the heath, alone? Alone I am, O Shilric! alone in the winterhouse. With grief for thee I expired. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb. She fleets, she sails away; as grey mist before the wind!and, wilt thou not stay, my love? Stay and behold my tears? fair thou appearest, my love! fair thou wast, when alive! By the mossy fountain I will sit; on the top of the hill of winds. When midday is silent around, converse, O my love, with me! come on the wings of the gale! on the blast of the mountain, come! Let me hear thy voice, as thou passest, when midday is silent around. III Evening is grey on the hills. The north wind resounds through the woods. White clouds rise on the sky: the trembling snow descends. The river howls afar, along its winding course. Sad, by a hollow rock, the greyhair'd Carryl sat. Dry fern waves over his head; his seat is in an aged birch. Clear to the roaring winds he lifts his voice of woe. Tossed on the wavy ocean is He, the hope of the isles; Malcolm, the support of the poor; foe to the proud in arms! Why hast thou left us behind? why live we to mourn thy fate? We might have heard, with thee, the voice of the deep; have seen the oozy rock. Sad on the seabeat shore thy spouse looketh for thy return. The time of thy promise is come; the night is gathering around. But no white sail is on the sea; no voice is heard except the blustering winds. Low is the soul of the war! Wet are the locks of youth! By the foot of some rock thou liest; washed by the waves as they come. Why, ye winds, did ye bear him on the desert rock? Why, ye waves, did ye roll over him? But, Oh! what voice is that? Who rides on that meteor of fire! Green are his airy limbs. It is he! it is the ghost of Malcolm!Rest, lovely soul, rest on the rock; and let me hear thy voice!He is gone, like a dream of the night. I see him through the trees. Daughter of Reynold! he is gone. Thy spouse shall return no more. No more shall his hounds come from the hill, forerunners of their master. No more from the distant rock shall his voice greet thine ear. Silent is he in the deep, unhappy daughter of Reynold! I will sit by the stream of the plain. Ye rocks! hang over my head. Hear my voice, ye trees! as ye bend on the shaggy hill. My voice shall preserve the praise of him, the hope of the isles. IV CONNAL, CRIMORA, CRIMORA. Who cometh from the hill, like a cloud tinged with the beam of the west? Whose voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleasant as the harp of Carryl? It is my love in the light of steel; but sad is his darkened brow. Live the mighty race of Fingal? or what disturbs my Connal? CONNAL. They live. I saw them return from the chace, like a stream of light. The sun was on their shields: In a line they descended the hill. Loud is the voice of the youth; the war, my love, is near. Tomorrow the enormous Dargo comes to try the force of our race. The race of Fingal he defies; the race of battle and wounds. CRIMORA. Connal, I saw his sails like grey mist on the sable wave. They came to land. Connnal, many are the warriors of Dargo! CONNAL. Bring me thy father's shield; the iron shield of Rinval; that shield like the full moon when it is darkened in the sky. CRIMORA. That shield I bring, O Connal; but it did not defend my father. By the spear of Gauror he fell. Thou mayst fall, O Connal! CONNAL. Fall indeed I may: But raise my tomb, Crimora. Some stones, a mound of earth, shall keep my memory. Though fair thou art, my love, as the light; more pleasant than the gale of the hill; yet I will not stay. Raise my tomb, Crimora. CRIMORA, Then give me those arms of light; that sword, and that spear of steel. I shall meet Dargo with thee, and aid my lovely Connal. Farewell, ye rocks of Ardven! ye deer! and ye streams of the hill!We shall return no more. Our tombs are distant far. V Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree stands alone on the hill, and marks the grave of Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and strew the grave of the dead. At times are seen here the ghosts of the deceased, when the musing hunter alone stalks slowly over the heath. Who can reach the source of thy race, O Connal? and who recount thy Fathers? Thy family grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn from the earth. Who shall supply the place of Connal? Here was the din of arms; and here the groans of the dying. Mournful are the wars of Fingal! O Connal! it was here thou didst fall. Thine arm was like a storm; thy sword, a beam of the sky; thy height, a rock on the plain; thine eyes, a furnace of fire. Louder than a storm was thy voice, when thou confoundedst the field. Warriors fell by thy sword, as the thistle by the staff of a boy. Dargo the mighty came on, like a cloud of thunder. His brows were contracted and dark. His eyes like two caves in a rock. Bright rose their swords on each side; dire was the clang of their steel. The daughter of Rinval was near; Crimora, bright in the armour of man; her hair loose behind, her bow in her hand. She followed the youth to the war, Connal her much beloved. She drew the string on Dargo; but erring pierced her Connal. He falls like an oak on the plain; like a rock from the shaggy hill. What shall she do, hapless maid!He bleeds; her Connal dies. All the night long she cries, and all the day, O Connal, my love, and my friend! With grief the sad mourner died. Earth here incloseth the loveliest pair on the hill. The grass grows between the stones of their tomb; I sit in the mournful shade. The wind sighs through the grass; and their memory rushes on my mind. Undisturbed you now sleep together; in the tomb of the mountain you rest alone. VI Son of the noble Fingal, Oscian, Prince of men! what tears run down the cheeks of age? what shades thy mighty soul? Memory, son of Alpin, memory wounds the aged. Of former times are my thoughts; my thoughts are of the noble Fingal. The race of the king return into my mind, and wound me with remembrance. One day, returned from the sport of the mountains, from pursuing the sons of the hill, we covered this heath with our youth. Fingal the mighty was here, and Oscur, my son, great in war. Fair on our sight from the sea, at once, a virgin came. Her breast was like the snow of one night. Her cheek like the bud of the rose. Mild was her blue rolling eye: but sorrow was big in her heart. Fingal renowned in war! she cries, sons of the king, preserve me! Speak secure, replies the king, daughter of beauty, speak: our ear is open to all: our swords redress the injured. I fly from Ullin, she cries, from Ullin famous in war. I fly from the embrace of him who would debase my blood. Cremor, the friend of men, was my father; Cremor the Prince of Inverne. Fingal's younger sons arose; Carryl expert in the bow; Fillan beloved of the fair; and Fergus first in the race. Who from the farthest Lochlyn? who to the seas of Molochasquir? who dares hurt the maid whom the sons of Fingal guard? Daughter of beauty, rest secure; rest in peace, thou fairest of women. Far in the blue distance of the deep, some spot appeared like the back of the ridgewave. But soon the ship increased on our sight. The hand of Ullin drew her to land. The mountains trembled as he moved. The hills shook at his steps. Dire rattled his armour around him. Death and destruction were in his eyes. His stature like the roe of Morven. He moved in the lightning of steel. Our warriors fell before him, like the field before the reapers. Fingal's three sons he bound. He plunged his sword into the fairone's breast. She fell as a wreath of snow before the sun in spring. Her bosom heaved in death; her soul came forth in blood. Oscur my son came down; the mighty in battle descended. His armour rattled as thunder; and the lightning of his eyes was terrible. There, was the clashing of swords; there, was the voice of steel. They struck and they thrust; they digged for death with their swords. But death was distant far, and delayed to come. The sun began to decline; and the cowherd thought of home. Then Oscur's keen steel found the heart of Ullin. He fell like a mountainoak covered over with glittering frost: He shone like a rock on the plain.Here the daughter of beauty lieth; and here the bravest of men. Here one day ended the fair and the valiant. Here rest the pursuer and the pursued. Son of Alpin! the woes of the aged are many: their tears are for the past. This raised my sorrow, warriour; memory awaked my grief. Oscur my son was brave; but Oscur is now no more. Thou hast heard my grief, O son of Alpin; forgive the tears of the aged. VII Why openest thou afresh the spring of my grief, O son of Alpin, inquiring how Oscur fell? My eyes are blind with tears; but memory beams on my heart. How can I relate the mournful death of the head of the people! Prince of the warriours, Oscur my son, shall I see thee no more! He fell as the moon in a storm; as the sun from the midst of his course, when clouds rise from the waste of the waves, when the blackness of the storm inwraps the rocks of Ardannider. I, like an ancient oak on Morven, I moulder alone in my place. The blast hath lopped my branches away; and I tremble at the wings of the north. Prince of the warriors, Oscur my son! shall I see thee no more! DERMID DERMID and Oscur were one: They reaped the battle together. Their friendship was strong as their steel; and death walked between them to the field. They came on the foe like two rocks falling from the brows of Ardven. Their swords were stained with the blood of the valiant: warriours fainted at their names. Who was a match for Oscur, but Dermid? and who for Dermid, but Oscur? THEY killed mighty Dargo in the field; Dargo before invincible. His daughter was fair as the morn; mild as the beam of night. Her eyes, like two stars in a shower: her breath, the gale of spring: her breasts, as the new fallen snow floating on the moving heath. The warriours saw her, and loved; their souls were fixed on the maid. Each loved her, as his fame; each must possess her or die. But her soul was fixed on Oscur; my son was the youth of her love. She forgot the blood of her father; and loved the hand that slew him. Son of Oscian, said Dermid, I love; O Oscur, I love this maid. But her soul cleaveth unto thee; and nothing can heal Dermid. Here, pierce this bosom, Oscur; relieve me, my friend, with thy sword. My sword, son of Morny, shall never be stained with the blood of Dermid. Who then is worthy to slay me, O Oscur son of Oscian? Let not my life pass away unknown. Let none but Oscur slay me. Send me with honour to the grave, and let my death be renowned. Dermid, make use of thy sword; son of Moray, wield thy steel. Would that I fell with thee! that my death came from the hand of Dermid! They fought by the brook of the mountain; by the streams of Branno. Blood tinged the silvery stream, and crudled round the mossy stones. Dermid the graceful fell; fell, and smiled in death. And fallest thou, son of Morny; fallest, thou by Oscur's hand! Dermid invincible in war, thus do I see thee fall! He went, and returned to the maid whom he loved; returned, but she perceived his grief. Why that gloom, son of Oscian? what shades thy mighty soul? Though once renowned for the bow, O maid, I have lost my fame. Fixed on a tree by the brook of the hill, is the shield of Gormur the brave, whom in battle I slew. I have wasted the day in vain, nor could my arrow pierce it. Let me try, son Oscian, the skill of Dargo's daughter. My hands were taught the bow: my father delighted in my skill. She went. He stood behind the shield. Her arrow flew and pierced his breastA. Footnote A: Nothing was held by the ancient Highlanders more essential to their glory, than to die by the hand of some person worthy or renowned. This was the occasion of Oscur's contriving to be slain by his mistress, now that he was weary of life. In those early times suicide was utterly unknown among that people, and no traces of it are found in the old poetry. Whence the translator suspects the account that follows of the daughter of Dargo killing herself, to be the interpolation of some later Bard. Blessed be that hand of snow; and blessed thy bow of yew! I fall resolved on death: and who but the daughter of Dargo was worthy to slay me? Lay me in the earth, my fairone; lay me by the side of Dermid. Oscur! I have the blood, the soul of the mighty Dargo. Well pleased I can meet death. My sorrow I can end thus.She pierced her white bosom with steel. She fell; she trembled; and died. By the brook of the hill their graves are laid; a birch's unequal shade covers their tomb. Often on their green earthen tombs the branchy sons of the mountain feed, when midday is all in flames, and silence is over all the hills. VIII By the side of a rock on the hill, beneath the aged trees, old Oscian sat on the moss; the last of the race of Fingal. Sightless are his aged eyes; his beard is waving in the wind. Dull through the leafless trees he heard the voice of the north. Sorrow revived in his soul: he began and lamented the dead. How hast thou fallen like an oak, with all thy branches round thee! Where is Fingal the King? where is Oscur my son? where are all my race? Alas! in the earth they lie. I feel their tombs with my hands. I hear the river below murmuring hoarsely over the stones. What dost thou, O river, to me? Thou bringest back the memory of the past. The race of Fingal stood on thy banks, like a wood in a fertile soil. Keen were their spears of steel. Hardy was he who dared to encounter their rage. Fillan the great was there. Thou Oscur wert there, my son! Fingal himself was there, strong in the grey locks of years. Full rose his sinewy limbs; and wide his shoulders spread. The unhappy met with his arm, when the pride of his wrath arose. The son of Morny came; Gaul, the tallest of men. He stood on the hill like an oak; his voice was like the streams of the hill. Why reigneth alone, he cries, the son of the mighty Corval? Fingal is not strong to save: he is no support for the people. I am strong as a storm in the ocean; as a whirlwind on the hill. Yield, son of Corval; Fingal, yield to me. Oscur stood forth to meet him; my son would meet the foe. But Fingal came in his strength, and smiled at the vaunter's boast. They threw their arms round each other; they struggled on the plain. The earth is ploughed with their heels. Their bones crack as the boat on the ocean, when it leaps from wave to wave. Long did they toil; with night, they fell on the sounding plain; as two oaks, with their branches mingled, fall crashing from the hill. The tall son of Morny is bound; the aged overcame. Fair with her locks of gold, her smooth neck, and her breasts of snow; fair, as the spirits of the hill when at silent noon they glide along the heath; fair, as the rainbow of heaven; came Minvane the maid. Fingal! She softly saith, loose me my brother Gaul. Loose me the hope of my race, the terror of all but Fingal. Can I, replies the King, can I deny the lovely daughter of the hill? take thy brother, O Minvane, thou fairer than the snow of the north! Such, Fingal! were thy words; but thy words I hear no more. Sightless I sit by thy tomb. I hear the wind in the wood; but no more I hear my friends. The cry of the hunter is over. The voice of war is ceased. IX Thou askest, fair daughter of the isles! whose memory is preserved in these tombs? The memory of Ronnan the bold, and Connan the chief of men; and of her, the fairest of maids, Rivine the lovely and the good. The wing of time is laden with care. Every moment hath woes of its own. Why seek we our grief from afar? or give our tears to those of other times? But thou commanded, and I obey, O fair daughter of the isles! Conar was mighty in war. Caul was the friend of strangers. His gates were open to all; midnight darkened not on his barred door. Both lived upon the sons of the mountains. Their bow was the support of the poor. Connan was the image of Conar's soul. Caul was renewed in Ronnan his son. Rivine the daughter of Conar was the love of Ronnan; her brother Connan was his friend. She was fair as the harvestmoon setting in the seas of Molochasquir. Her soul was settled on Ronnan; the youth was the dream of her nights. Rivine, my love! says Ronnan, I go to my king in NorwayA. A year and a day shall bring me back. Wilt thou be true to Ronnan? Footnote A: Supposed to be Fergus II. This fragment is reckoned not altogether so ancient as most of the rest. Ronnan! a year and a day I will spend in sorrow. Ronnan, behave like a man, and my soul shall exult in thy valour. Connan my friend, says Ronnan, wilt thou preserve Rivine thy sister? Durstan is in love with the maid; and soon shall the sea bring the stranger to our coast. Ronnan, I will defend: Do thou securely go.He went. He returned on his day. But Durstan returned before him. Give me thy daughter, Conar, says Durstan; or fear and feel my power. He who dares attempt my sister, says Connan, must meet this edge of steel. Unerring in battle is my arm: my sword, as the lightning of heaven. Ronnan the warriour came; and much he threatened Durstan. But, saith Euran the servant of gold, Ronnan! by the gate of the north shall Durstan this night carry thy fairone away. Accursed, answers Ronnan, be this arm if death meet him not there. Connan! saith Euran, this night shall the stranger carry thy sister away. My sword shall meet him, replies Connan, and he shall lie low on earth. The friends met by night, and they fought. Blood and sweat ran down their limbs as water on the mossy rock. Connan falls; and cries, O Durstan, be favourable to Rivine!And is it my friend, cries Ronnan, I have slain? O Connan! I knew thee not. He went, and he fought with Durstan. Day began to rise on the combat, when fainting they fell, and expired. Rivine came out with the morn; andO what detains my Ronnan! She saw him lying pale in his blood; and her brother lying pale by his side. What could she say: what could she do? her complaints were many and vain. She opened this grave for the warriours; and fell into it herself, before it was closed; like the sun snatched away in a storm. Thou hast heard this tale of grief, O fair daughter of the isles! Rivine was fair as thyself: shed on her grave a tear. X It is night; and I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent shrieks down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds. Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds; stars of the night, appear! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the toil of the chase! his bow near him, unstrung; his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar; nor can I hear the voice of my love. Why delayeth my Shalgar, why the son of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock; and the tree; and here the roaring stream. Thou promisedst with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Shalgar gone? With thee I would fly my father; with thee, my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; but we are not foes, O Shalgar! Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard over the heath; let my wanderer hear me. Shalgar! it is I who call. Here is the tree, and the rock. Shalgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming? Alas! no answer. Lo! the moon appeareth. The flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are grey on the face of the hill. But I see him not on the brow; his dogs before him tell not that he is coming. Here I must sit alone. But who are these that lie beyond me on the heath? Are they my love and my brother?Speak to me, O my friends! they answer not. My soul is tormented with fears.Ah! they are dead. Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Shalgar? why, O Shalgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! speak to me; hear my voice, sons of my love! But alas! they are silent; silent for ever! Cold are their breast of clay! Oh! from the rock of the hill; from the top of the mountain of winds, speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak, and I will not be afraid.Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find you? I sit in my grief. I wait for morning in my tears. Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead; but close it not till I come. My life flieth away like a dream: why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends by the stream of the founding rock. When night comes on the hill: when the wind is up on the heath; my ghost shall stand in the wind, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall fear, but love my voice. For sweet shall my voice be for my friends; for pleasant were they both to me. XI Sad! I am sad indeed: nor small my cause of woe!Kirmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Connar the valiant lives; and Annir the fairest of maids. The boughs of thy family flourish, O Kirmor! but Armyn is the last of his race. Rise, winds of autumn, rise; blow upon the dark heath! streams of the mountains, roar! howl, ye tempests, in the trees! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show by intervals thy pale face! bring to my mind that sad night, when all my children fell; when Arindel the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely died. Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the moon on the hills of Jura; white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing gale. Armor renowned in war came, and fought Daura's love; he was not long denied; fair was the hope of their friends. Earch son of Odgal repined; for his brother was slain by Armor. He came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armyn! a rock not distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red shines the fruit afar. There Armor waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch his love. Come, fair daughter of Armyn! She went; and she called on Armor. Nought answered, but the son of the rock. Armor, my love! my love! why tormentest thou me with fear? come, graceful son of Arduart, come; it is Daura who calleth thee!Earch the traitor fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father. Arindel! Armyn! none to relieve your Daura? Her voice came over the sea. Arindel my son descended from the hill; rough in the spoils of the chace. His arrows rattled by his side; his bow was in his hand; five grey dogs attended his steps. He saw fierce Earch on the shore; he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick fly the thongs of the hide around his limbs; he loads the wind with his groans. Arindel ascends the surgy deep in his boat, to bring Daura to the land. Armor came in his wrath, and let fly the greyfeathered shaft. It sung; it sunk in thy heart, O Arindel my son! for Earch the traitor thou diedst. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood! The boat is broken in twain by the waves. Armor plunges into the sea, to rescue his Daura or die. Sudden a blast from the hill comes over the waves. He sunk, and he rose no more. Alone, on the seabeat rock, my daughter was heard to complain. Frequent and loud were her cries; nor could her father relieve her. All night I stood on the shore. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; and the rain beat hard on the side of the mountain. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It died away, like the eveningbreeze among the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief she expired. O lay me soon by her side. When the storms of the mountain come; when the north lifts the waves on high; I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock. Often by the setting moon I see the ghosts of my children. Indistinct, they walk in mournful conference together. Will none of you speak to me?But they do not regard their father. XII RYNO, ALPIN. RYNO The wind and the rain are over: calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O stream! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin the son of the song, mourning for the dead. Bent is his head of age, and red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of the song, why alone on the silent hill? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood; as a wave on the lonely shore? ALPIN. My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead; my voice, for the inhabitants of the grave. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the plain. But thou shalt fall like Morar; and the mourner shalt sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unstrung. Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a doe on the hill; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm of December. Thy sword in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was like a stream after rain; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou returnedst from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the sun after rain; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid. Narrow is thy dwelling now; dark the place of thine abode. With three steps I compass thy grave, O thou who wast so great before! Four stones with their heads of moss are the only memorial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan. Who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step?It is thy father, O Morar! the father of none but thee. He heard of thy fame in battle; he heard of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's fame; why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! weep; but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep of the dead; low their pillow of dust. No more shall he hear thy voice; no more shall he awake at thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer awake? Farewell, thou bravest of men! thou conqueror in the field! but the field shall see thee no more; nor the dark wood be lightened with the splendor of thy steel. Thou hast left no son. But the song shall preserve thy name. Future times shall hear of thee; they shall hear of the fallen Morar. XIII Footnote: This is the opening of the epic poem mentioned in the preface. The two following fragments are parts of some episodes of the same work. Cuchlaid sat by the wall; by the tree of the rustling leaf. Footnote: The aspen or poplar tree His spear leaned against the mossy rock. His shield lay by him on the grass. Whilst he thought on the mighty Carbre whom he slew in battle, the scout of the ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil. Rise, Cuchulaid, rise! I see the ships of Garve. Many are the foe, Cuchulaid; many the sons of Lochlyn. Moran! thou ever tremblest; thy fears increase the foe. They are the ships of the Desert of hills arrived to assist Cuchulaid. I saw their chief, says Moran, tall as a rock of ice. His spear is like that fir; his shield like the rising moon. He sat upon a rock on the shore, as a grey cloud upon the hill. Many, mighty man! I said, many are our heroes; Garve, well art thou named, many are the sons of our king. Footnote: Garve signifies a man of great size. He answered like a wave on the rock; who is like me here? The valiant live not with me; they go to the earth from my hand. The king of the Desert of hills alone can fight with Garve. Once we wrestled on the hill. Our heels overturned the wood. Rocks fell from their place, and rivulets changed their course. Three days we strove together; heroes stood at a distance, and feared. On the fourth, the King saith that I fell; but Garve saith, he stood. Let Cuchulaid yield to him that is strong as a storm. No. I will never yield to man. Cuchulaid will conquer or die. Go, Moran, take my spear; strike the shield of Caithbait which hangs before the gate. It never rings in peace. My heroes shall hear on the hill, XIV DUCHOMMAR, MORNA. DUCHOMMAR. Footnote: The signification of the names in this fragment are; Dubhchomar, a black wellshaped man. Muirne or Morna, a woman beloved by all. Cormaccairbre, an unequalled and rough warriour. Cromleach, a crooked hill. Mugruch, a surly gloomy man. Tarman, thunder. Moinie, soft in temper and person. Morna, thou fairest of women, daughter of CormacCarbre! why in the circle of stones, in the cave of the rock, alone? The stream murmureth hoarsely. The blast groaneth in the aged tree. The lake is troubled before thee. Dark are the clouds of the sky. But thou art like snow on the heath. Thy hair like a thin cloud of gold on the top of Cromleach. Thy breasts like two smooth rocks on the hill which is seen from the stream of Brannuin. Thy arms, as two white pillars in the hall of Fingal. MORNA. Whence the son of Mugruch, Duchommar the most gloomy of men? Dark are thy brows of terror. Red thy rolling eyes. Does Garve appear on the sea? What of the foe, Duchommar? DUCHOMMAR. From the hill I return, O Morna, from the hill of the flying deer. Three have I slain with my bow; three with my panting dogs. Daughter of CormacCarbre, I love thee as my soul. I have slain a deer for thee. High was his branchy head; and fleet his feet of wind. MORNA. Gloomy son of Mugruch, Duchommar! I love thee not: hard is thy heart of rock; dark thy terrible brow. But Cadmor the son of Tarman, thou art the love of Morna! thou art like a sunbeam on the hill, in the day of the gloomy storm. Sawest thou the son of Tarman, lovely on the hill of the chace? Here the daughter of CormacCarbre waiteth the coming of Cadmor. DUCHOMMAR. And long shall Morna wait. His blood is on my sword. I met him by the mossy stone, by the oak of the noisy stream. He fought; but I slew him; his blood is on my sword. High on the hill I will raise his tomb, daughter of CormacCarbre. But love thou the son of Mugruch; his arm is strong as a storm. MORNA. And is the son of Tarman fallen; the youth with the breast of snow! the first in the chase of the hill; the foe of the sons of the ocean!Duchommar, thou art gloomy indeed; cruel is thy arm to me.But give me that sword, son of Mugruch; I love the blood of Cadmor. He gives her the sword, with which she instantly stabs him. DUCHOMMAR. Daughter of CormacCarbre, thou hast pierced Duchommar! the sword is cold in my breast; thou hast killed the son of Mugruch. Give me to Moinic the maid; for much she loved Duchommar. My tomb she will raise on the hill; the hunter shall see it, and praise me.But draw the sword from my side, Morna; I feel it cold. Upon her coming near him, he stabs her. As she fell, she plucked a stone from the side of the cave, and placed it betwixt them, that his blood might not be mingled with hers. XV 1Where is Gealchossa my love, the daughter of TuathalTeachvar? I left her in the hall of the plain, when I fought with the hairy Ulfadha. Return soon, she said, O Lamderg! for here I wait in sorrow. Her white breast rose with sighs; her cheek was wet with tears. But she cometh not to meet Lamderg; or sooth his soul after battle. Silent is the hall of joy; I hear not the voice of the singer. Brann does not shake his chains at the gate, glad at the coming of his master. Where is Gealchossa my love, the daughter of TuathalTeachvar? Footnote: The signification of the names in this fragment are; Gealchossack, whitelegged. TuathalTeachtmhar, the surly, but fortunate man. Lambhdearg, bloodyhand. Ulfadba, long beard. Fichios, the conqueror of men. Lamderg! says Firchios son of Aydon, Gealchossa may be on the hill; she and her chosen maids pursuing the flying deer. Firchios! no noise I hear. No sound in the wood of the hill. No deer fly in my sight; no panting dog pursueth. I see not Gealchossa my love; fair as the full moon setting on the hills of Cromleach. Go, Firchios! go to Allad, the greyhaired son of the rock. He liveth in the circle of stones; he may tell of Gealchossa. Footnote: Allad is plainly a Druid consulted on this occasion. Allad! saith Firchios, thou who dwellest in the rock; thou who tremblest alone; what saw thine eyes of age? I saw, answered Allad the old, Ullin the son of Carbre: He came like a cloud from the hill; he hummed a surly song as he came, like a storm in leafless wood. He entered the hall of the plain. Lamderg, he cried, most dreadful of men! fight, or yield to Ullin. Lamderg, replied Gealchoffa, Lamderg is not here: he fights the hairy Ulfadha; mighty man, he is not here. But Lamderg never yields; he will fight the son of Carbre. Lovely art thou, O daughter of TuathalTeachvar! said Ullin. I carry thee to the house of Carbre; the valiant shall have Gealchossa. Three days from the top of Cromleach will I call Lamderg to fight. The fourth, you belong to Ullin, if Lamderg die, or fly my sword. Allad! peace to thy dreams!found the horn, Firchios!Ullin may hear, and meet me on the top of Cromleach. Lamderg rushed on like a storm. On his spear he leaped over rivers. Few were his strides up the hill. The rocks fly back from his heels; loud crashing they bound to the plain. His armour, his buckler rung. He hummed a surly song, like the noise of the falling stream. Dark as a cloud he stood above; his arms, like meteors, shone. From the summit of the hill, he rolled a rock. Ullin heard in the hall of Carbre. Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https:www.pgdp.net THE CAMPAIGN of 1760 in CANADA A NARRATIVE ATTRIBUTED TO CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE. Published under the Auspices of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec QUEBEC: PRINTED AT THE \"MORNING CHRONICLE\" OFFICE 1887. PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF QUEBEC. ATTRIBUTED TO CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE. Hope that heavenly, healing balm, that gift from Providence, blended with persecutions to blunt the sharpness of their sting and hinder the unfortunate from being overwhelmed, and sinking under the load of their afflictions, never dies outnever abandons the distressed. \"We don't believe in dangers,\" says Machiavel, \"until they are over our heads; but we entertain hopes of escaping them when at a great distance.\" Hope does not abandon the pale, dying man: in his agony he still fells life, and in his thoughts he does not detach himself from it. Death strikes, before his heart has realized that he could cease to live. Search in the prisons: hope dwells there with the wretch who next day is to undergo his sentence of death. Every time the bolts rattle, he believes his deliverance entering with the jailer. Whole years of slavery have not been able to wear out this consoling sentiment. These contradictions,these differences of seeing,these returns,this stormy flow and ebb, are so many effects of hope, which plays upon us and never ceases. It is inherent in human nature to hope in adversity for a favorable change of fate, however the appearances may be illgrounded of an end to its pain and suffering. The Canadians, without the least apparent reason, still flattered themselves to save their country, and did not lose the hope of retaking Quebec, though without artillery and warlike stores. All minds were occupied during the winter in forming projects of capturing that town, which were entirely chimerical, void of common sense, and nowise practicable. No country ever hatched a greater numbernever projects more ridiculous and extravagant; everybody meddled. The contagion spread even to my Lord Bishop and his seminary of priests, who gave their plan, which, like all the others, lacked only common sense and judgment. In short, a universal insanity prevailed at Montreal. Amongst thousands of the productions of these distempered brains, that of surprising Quebec by a forced march in winter and taking it by escalade, was the only one where there was the least chance of success. This project was for some time agitated so seriously, that workmen were employed in making wooden ladders; but having always looked upon it as a wild and extravagant fancy of priests and old women, I constantly argued against it whenever they spoke of it, and it was continually the topic of conversation. The Upper Town of Quebec lies upon the top of a rock, about two hundred feet high, almost perpendicular in some parts of it, and everywhere extremely steep and inaccessible, excepting towards the Hauteurs d'Abraham, which is a continuation of the same hill, that begins at Quebec and ends at Cap Rouge, diminishing gradually in height in the space of these three leagues. The Lower Town is a narrow piece of ground, from a hundred to four or five pacesA broad, between the foot of the rock and the St. Lawrence. There is a street which goes up to the Upper Town without a continuation of houses; it is impossible to climb up the rock from the Lower Town, as I was employed three weeks upon it with miners and other workmen, to render all the footpaths impracticable; we finished only a few days before the arrival of the English fleet (in 1759). A town built upon a vast extent of ground, which would require an army to defend it, such as Ghent in Flanders, and which might be approached on all sides at the same time, in order to divide the troops of the garrison equally over all the town, may be surprised and taken by escalade, and in our desperate situation might have been attempted by risking all for all. A surprise in a dark night must naturally spread universal terror, disorder and panic amongst those who are taken unawares, and must soon be communicated through all the quarters of the town. The soldiers are so much the more terrified that they know not where they are most in danger; not like during a siege, where the place for the assault is marked by the breach. Their heads turn, and, deprived of judgment, coolness and reflection, they think rather of escaping the slaughter that ensues when a town is being captured in this manner, than of defending the ramparts. But Quebec being accessible only on that side of it which faces the heights of Abraham, and having nothing to fear elsewhere, the moment an alarm is sounded, all the force of the garrison must naturally be there. Thus the English having seven thousand men in the townalmost as many as our army proposed for the escalade to invest all that part of the town open to attackit is likely that we should have lost the half of our army in the attempt, and at last, after a horrible slaughter of men, have been obliged to return ignominiously from whence we came. Besides, supposing that we had even taken the Lower Town by escalade, we would not have been further advanced. The English, in half an hour afterwards, by burning it, by throwing down from the Upper Town upon the roofs of the houses fire pots, shells and other combustible matter, could have soon chased us out of it, or buried us under its ruins. This project, after having furnished for a long time matter for the daily conversations of Montrealers, was at last considered by M. de Levis, and classed as it deserved, amongst the vagaries of bedlam; he substituting a scheme in its place which was reasonable, well combined, doing honor to his ability and talent. Footnote A: The four or five paces of 1760 have now attained seven or eight acres.(L) M. de Levis, in giving an account to the Court of the loss of all our artillery and stores at Quebec, gave likewise all possible assurances that he would retake the town in the spring and save the colony, provided they would send to him from Europe a ship loaded with fieldpieces and ammunition, to set sail from Europe in the month of February, in order to be in the St. Lawrence river before the arrival of the English, and near Quebec in the month of April. He collected our army as soon as the season permitted; got together about twelve pieces of old cannon, which had been laid aside for many years, and with a small quantity of gunpowder and very few bullets, he set out from Montreal with his army towards the beginning of April, the snow being as yet upon the ground; and he conducted his march so well that the army arrived at Cap Rouge, three leagues from Quebec, without the enemy having any information of their having left Montreal. He did not flatter himself to be able to take Quebec with such a despicable train of artillery, and his design was only to invest the town; to open the trenches before it; to advance his approaches, and be in a position, the moment the ships he had asked from the Court should arrive, to land the cannon, placing them instantly upon the batteries ready to receive them, and without loss of time to batter the town immediately. Fortune favored him to the height of his wishes, and if the ships had arrived with the artillery he expected from France, that town could scarce have held out for four and twenty hours, by which means he would have had the glory of preserving to his country the colony of Canada, then reduced to its last gasp. The English got the news of our army's being at Cap Rouge by a most singular accident, which greatly manifests the predominant power of Fortune in military operations, and shows that the greatest general cannot guarantee success or put himself out of the reach of those events which human understanding cannot foresee, whereby the best combined and wellformed schemes are frustrated in their execution. In all appearance we would have taken Quebec by surprise had it not been for one of Fortune's caprices, that have often as much share in the events of war as the genius and talents of the greatest generals. The Athenians were not in the wrong to paint Timotheus asleep, whilst Fortune, in another part of the picture, was spreading nets over towns to take them for him. An artillery boat having been overturned and sunk by the sheets of ice, which the current of the St. Lawrence brought down with great force, an artilleryman saved himself on a piece of ice that floated down the river with him upon it, without a possibility of his getting to land, when he was opposite to the city. The English, so soon as they perceived that poor distressed manmoved with humanity and compassionsent out boats, who with difficulty saved him (the river being covered with fields of ice), and brought him to town with scarce any sign of life. Having restored him with cordials, the moment he began to breathe and recover his senses, they asked him from whence he came, and who he was? he answered, innocently, that he was a French cannonier from M. de Levis' army at Cap Rouge. At first they imagined he raved, and that his sufferings upon the river had turned his head; but, after examining him more particularly and his answers being always the same, they were soon convinced of the truth of his assertions, and were not a little confounded to have the French army at three leagues from Quebec, without possessing the smallest information of the fact. All their care proved ineffectual for the preservation of life; he expired the moment he had revealed this important secret. What a remarkable and visible instance of fortune fighting for the Englishequal at least to the cloud of rain that saved General Wolfe's army the year preceding at his attack of 31st of July, at Montmorenci. Had it not been for this most unaccountable accident, to all appearance M. de Levis would have captured all the English advanced posts, which were said to amount to fifteen hundred men, who retired to the town immediately after setting fire to the magazine of powder in the church of St. Foy, which ammunition they had not the time to carry with them. Nor would it have been surprising if M. de Levis, at the gates of Quebec with his army, without being discovered, had taken it by surprise. It is certain that luck has more or less share in all the events of life, and this is more particularly visible in the operations of war. Hazards may be constantly in the favor of a general blindly protected by that goddess, against an adversary with far superior talents. Everybody must acknowledge Prince Eugene's superiority of genius, when compared with the Duke of Marlborough; but Marlborough was always as fortunate in having continually unforeseen accidents in his favor, as Prince Eugene was unlucky to have them against him to thwart and cross the execution of the bestcombined projects, which extorted admiration, and seemed to have only need of Fortune's standing neuter to be successful. The fate of an army,can it depend upon the personal good fortune of the General who commands it? Cardinal Mazarin seemed to be of this opinion, since he never failed to ask those who recommended persons to him to head expeditions, \"is he lucky?\"estil heureux? Can it be surmised that fortune acts with her favorite sons at the head of armies, as she does at gambling tables? However it may be, a great General will always watch vigilantly the chapter of accidentsseize rapidly that which is favorable to him, and, by his prudence, foresight and circumspection, will ward off and correct what is contrary to his interests. The smallest things are not unworthy of his attention; they often produce the greatest events, and the neglecting what at first view might appear trivial, has often overturned the bestcalculated schemes. The most trifling of our actions becomes often a first cause which produces an endless chain of effectslinked to each otherof the greatest importance. The boat sunk by the ice, at Cap Rouge, was a first cause. The cannonier, by this accident, was upon a sheet of ice in the middle of the St. Lawrence, opposite to Quebec; this inspired with pity the English to save his life. This humane action of the English in saving the unhappy cannonier, saved Quebec from being taken by surprise, which probably would have been the case without his information, that M. de Levis' army was at Cap Rouge. If taken by M. de Levis, it would have deterred the English from any further attempt upon Canada, and peace would have soon ensued. But by the cannonier's declaration, it was not taken, and consequently the war was prolonged. Quebec in possession of the English rendered the conquest of Canada inevitable and sure. The possession of that vast country of Canada, after so much blood, and such immense expenses it had cost the English in these different expeditions, excited too much the cupidity of the English to consent to a peace upon reasonable conditions, and induced them to extend their conquest to other French colonies. The possession of so many French and Spanish colonies by the English brought about the shameful peace that France and Spain were obliged to receive at the hands of the English, upon the hardest terms, as laws of the conqueror. The boat upset and sunk at Cap Rouge was the primary cause and the first link of the chain which had the greatest influence over all the affairs of Europe. If M. de Levis had saved the cannonier at Cap Rouge, what a multitude of events would have been nipped in the bud! Perhaps even Great Britain would have been forced to receive the peace from France instead of granting it on her own conditions. There is scarcely any human action that is not the beginning of a chain of results. The French army took possession of the village of St. Foye the moment the English went out of it, retiring to Quebec, and passed there the night between the 27th and 28th of April. Next morning M. de Levis being informed that the English army was come out of the town, and that they were drawn up in battle upon the same ground that the French army had occupied the year before at the battle of the 13th September, he drew out his men and advanced in order of battle to meet the English army. Though fully persuaded that the English general would not risk a battle out of his town, where he had a great deal to lose in being beat, and could gain little by a victory, he was fully persuaded that he would return at the approach of the French army. General Murray, who does the greatest honor to his country by his great knowledge of the art of war, good sense and ability, had come out of the town in order to cover that place with a retrenchment, which was very evident from the prodigious quantity of working tools that were taken by the French; and the vast rapidity with which the French army advanced in all appearance, deprived him of the possibility of getting back into Quebec without leaving a part of them to be cut to pieces by the Canadians. The English army had the advantage of position. They were drawn up in battle upon rising ground, their front armed with twentytwo brass fieldpiecesthe Palace battery which De Ramsay refused to Send to M. de Montcalm. The engagement began by the attack of a house (Dumont's) between the right wing of the English army and the French left wing, which was alternately attacked and defended by the Scotch Highlanders and the French Grenadiers, each of them taking it and losing it by turns. Worthy antagonists!the Grenadiers, with their bayonets in their hands, forced the Highlanders to get out of it by the windows; and the Highlanders getting into it again by the door, immediately obliged the Grenadiers to evacuate it by the same road, with their daggers. Both of them lost and retook the houseB several times, and the contest would have continued whilst there remained a Highlander and a Grenadier, if both generals had not made them retire, leaving the house neuter ground. The Grenadiers were reduced to fourteen mena company at most. No doubt the Highlanders lost in proportion. The left of the French army, which was in hollow ground, about forty paces from the English, was crushed to pieces by the fire of their artillery loaded with grapeshot. M. de Levis, perceiving their bad position, sent M. de La Pause, Adjutant of the Guienne Regiment, with orders for the army to retire some steps behind them, in order to occupy an eminence parallel to the rising ground occupied by the English; but whether this officer did not comprehend M. de Levis' intentions, or whether he delivered ill the orders to the different regiments, by his stupidity the battle was very near being lost irremediably. He ran along the line, ordering each regiment to the right about, and to retire, without any further explanation of M. de Levis' orders. Some of the left of the French army being so near as twenty paces to the enemy, the best disciplined troops in that case can scarce be expected to be able to retire without the greatest disorder and confusion, or without exposing themselves evidently to be defeated and slaughtered. Upon this movement, the English, believing them in flight, quitted their advantage of the rising ground in order to pursue them, complete their disorder, and break them entirely. M. Dalquier, who commanded the Bearn Regiment, with the troops of the colony upon the left of the French army, a bold, intrepid old officer, turned about to his soldiers when La Pause gave him M. de Levis' order to retire, and told them, \"It is not time now, my boys, to retire when at twenty paces from the enemy; with your bayonets upon your muskets, let us throw ourselves headlong amongst themthat is better.\" In an instant they fell upon the English impetuouslywith thrusts of bayonets hand to hand, got possession, like lightning, of their guns; and a ball which went through Dalquier's body, which was already quite covered with scars of old wounds, did not hinder him from continuing giving his orders. Poularies, who was on the right flank of the army, with his regiment of Royal Roussillon, and some of the Canadian militia, seeing Dalquier stand firm, and all the troops of the centre having retired in disorder, leaving a space between the two wings, he caused his regiment with the Canadians to wheel to the left, in order to fall upon the left flank of the English army, the French army extending further to their right beyond the English left wing. The enemy no sooner perceived Poularies' movement, than they immediately fled with precipitation and confusion, and were so panicstricken that not an English soldier could be rallied by their officers, several of whom were taken prisoners. The French troops who had retired advanced immediately, and all the French army pursued so hotly the English, that if the cry had not been raised to halt, it is very doubtful if they would not have got into Quebec pellmell with the fugitives, being near the towngates when this cry began. Thus Quebec would have been retaken in a most singular manner,C unforeseen and unpremeditated. I know nothing worse than illdisciplined troops; certainly a brave militia, with its simple, ancient way of fighting, even not drilled, is preferable to a force having a crude notion of disciplinea science entirely neglected in Canada amongst French regular troops; so that the French regiments there might be looked upon as differing very little from the Canadian militia. The method of managing militia and welldisciplined regular troops appears to be quite as different as they differ in nature. A cool, phlegmatic, undaunted bravery is the fruit of an excellent discipline, rendering the soldiers capable, when repulsed, to return several times to the assault, and rally of their own accord. But the strength and merit of the militia resembles a hot, ardent, raging fire, that must be suffered to blaze until it dies out of itself: it is a flash, an explosion, that often works prodigies, and which, when stifled, there is no possibility of preventing the immediate disorder that must ensue, nor any means of bringing it back a second time to face the enemy. NOTE.The preceding winter had been employed in skirmishing around Quebec.(J.M.L.) Footnote B: Dumont's Mill. Footnote C: \"On the night of the eighteenth of March, two hundred light infantry were detached from the Garrison of Quebec, with three days' provisions, and a company of Grenadiers, marched the next day to Lorette Church, being the place of rendezvous. The whole proceeded to Calvaire, accompanied by a French deserter in a British uniform. In this route they surprised an advanced post of the French, and made the party prisoners, consisting of a corporal and nine privates; having secured these, they pushed forward with the greatest speed, fearing that a straggling peasant, whom they met, should mar their further views by alarming the country. The light infantry having reached the wished for object, which was a strong camp or entrenchment of logs and timber, with a house detached at a small distance from it, they carried the dwelling house With their accustomed bravery, killed four and took the rest, being twenty in number, some of whom were wounded. The main body of the French by this time had manned their works, which were breast high, and environed with an abattis of wood, to the distance of about three hundred yards, whence they fired a few random shots and shouted as usual. Capt. McDonald, who commanded this detachment, seeing the French advantageously situated, and perceiving their officers very active in encouraging their men, expected a warm dispute, and therefore made a disposition to attack them in form. As soon, however, as the light infantry advanced to the charge, the French threw down their arms and took to flight, when near eighty of them were made prisoners. In the attack the English had only six wounded; but the French lost five killed and thirteen wounded. Capt. McDonald destroyed the post, three cornmills, granaries, and other houses contiguous thereto. The French prisoners were brought to Quebec, except the wounded, who were left in charge of the peasants, with directions to conduct them to Jacques Cartier. Near one hundred soldiers of the English detachment were frostbitten, and were brought back to the garrison on sleighs. Capt. Herbin, the commanding officer, escaped; but his watch, hat, and feather, 'fille de joie,' with a cask of wine and case of liqueurs, were taken. \"The Governor of Quebec (General Murray) sent the Town Major to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of Hotel Dieu, to acquaint her with the reasons that induced him to destroy their mills and tenements at Calvaire: namely, on account of her having transmitted intelligence to the French, of the last detachment's being ordered to be in readiness to march out; for having actually carried on a correspondence with the French army in the whole course of the winter, whereby they were informed of all movements, proceedings, and every other occurrence that happened within the walls: the Governor also signified to her, that if either she or her sisters should presume to correspond in future with the French, either directly or indirectly, or in any respect act contrary to good faith and the duty they owed to the King of Great Britain, they should, without further ceremony, be banished from Quebec, and their convent be converted into a barrack for the troops. As Madame de St. Claude, who was sister to M. de Ramsay, and Superior of the General Hospital, had always been inimical to the English in propagating falsehoods, and in encouraging the Canadians to resist, General Murray sent the BrigadeMajor to signify to this lady that she should desist from such conduct; and that as she appeared to take a great interest in the affairs of this world, and seemed tired of her seclusion, he would enlist her as a Grenadier, which from her stature (full six feet) she was qualified to be, and that he would promote her the first opportunity that presented itself.\"(SMITH.) The French had about two thousand killed and wounded in this battle of the 27th (? 28th) of April, of which number there was an hundred and ten officers of the regular troops, besides a great many officers of the Canadian militia: so they might say with Pyrrhus, the day of his victory over the Romans\"Again such another victory, and I would be undone!\" M. de Levis opened the trenches the same night before Quebec, and they were carried on with such activity that his batteries were soon ready to receive the guns necessary to make a breach. But the most considerable of his bad pieces was a twelve pounder, which he mounted upon batteries, firing at times with the greatest economy, as he had but a small store of gunpowder. There needed only the arrival of a ship from France with artillery and ammunition to crown M. de Levis with glory. The English in Quebec confessed that the first flag that would appear in the St. Lawrence would decide the question, if Canada should remain in possession of the English or return to the French. No ships arrived from France with artillery. The fate of Canada was at last settled by the appearance of three English menofwar, on the 7th of May. They ascended immediately the St. Lawrence without stopping at Quebec. They attacked the small French frigatesat the Ance du Foulon, about a mile above the townwhich had passed the winter in Canada; took some of them, burned others, and, in short, destroyed in an instant all the French marine. This unlookedfor arrival, instead of the vessel which M. de Levis expected from France, so astonished and terrified the French army, that they immediately raised the siegeand that without any necessity for it. They again left as a present for the English their tents and their baggage, as they had done previously on retiring from Beauport, after the battle of the 13th September. Such was their consternation that, as if struck by a thunderbolt, they fled with the utmost precipitation, as if the English were pursuing them after the loss of a battle. De Vauquelin alone distinguished himself by a truly heroic bravery. He commanded one of the small French frigates of about sixteen guns, and fought like a lion against an English manofwar of forty guns, until he had no powder nor shot. He then sent all his crew ashore to M. de Levis, judging that they might be of use to him, and remained on board with the wounded, his colors always flying. The English, after firing some time at his vessel, and receiving no answer, approached in their boats and asked him why he did not fire, or lower his flag? De Vauquelin answered them fiercely that, had he had any more powder he would not have been silent so long; that if they had a mind to take him, they might cut down his flag themselves, as hitherto his custom was not to strike his colors, but to make othershis country's enemiesdo so. The English then went on board of his ship, and took him prisoner, with his wounded men, and in consideration of his determinationthey having cut down his flagtreated him with the regard which bravery can claim at the hands of a generous enemy. De Vauquelin had already made himself known to the English by his undaunted courage at the siege of Louisburg. His intrepidity so delighted the English Admiral, that he begged him to tell him freely how he could serve him. He answered the Admiral, \"that what he wished for of all things was to have his liberty and permission to return to France.\" The Admiral had so great a consideration for him, that he caused a vessel to be immediately fitted out to carry him to Europe, ordering the English captain to obey De Vauquelin and land him in any French port he might ask for, leaving him at the same time to choose what French passengers would accompany him. This noble and generous behaviour of the English did honor to their nation, by rendering justice to, and discerning the merit of, an enemy, far beyond what De Vauquelin met with from Berryer, the Secretary of the Navy, on his arrival in France. The unhappy situation of the colony was now past remedy, and may be compared to a man in the agonies of death, to whom the physician continues to administer cordials, not from hopes of his recovery, but to allay and soften the violence of his sufferings. All that could now be expected was to obtain an honorable capitulation, favorable to its inhabitants, the colony being at its last gasp. M. de Levis left two thousand men at Jacques Cartier, with orders to retire slowly according as the English advanced from Quebec, and to avoid an engagement with them, without losing sight of them. This retarded their march, and put off the evil hour as long as possible. He went with the rest of his army to Montreal. As there was no provision in that town to be able to keep his army assembled, he was obliged to disperse them, sending them back to their winter quarters, where each inhabitant was obliged to board a soldier at a very low rate, which was paid by the munitionary general. M. de Bougainville was sent in the spring to command at Isle aux Noix, with eleven hundred men, of which number were the Regiment of Guienne and Berry. This island is situated in the River Chambly (Richelieu), about eight leagues in a straight line from Montreal, and two miles distant from Lake Champlain. M. Bourlamarque, an officer of great knowledge in all the branches of his profession, decided upon that position for his retreat the year before, when he evacuated Ticonderoga, having been forced to abandon to the English that lake. He fortified this island as well as was possible in a sandy ground, in order to serve as a frontier on that side of Canada, and hinder the English from coming down by the River Richelieu into the River St. Lawrence, by which means in a very short time they might have been in possession of Montreal and Three Rivers,a much easier way than by Lake Ontario, which is much longer and full of chicares (?) by the rapids in the St. Lawrence, and prolong their operations;a very great advantage in a country where there are violent frosts during seven months of the year. This island is about twelve hundred fathoms long, and from a hundred to two hundred broad. The entrenchments traced and conducted by M. Bourlamarque are regular, and a proof of his superior knowledge in fortifications. He barred the two branches of the river which formed the island with staccados, or chains of big trees, linked to one another at their ends by strong rings and circles of iron. This prevented the English boats from Lake Champlain to pass the island in the night, to reach Montreal. But for the staccados the island must have been taken by them before they could proceed any further. Some Iroquois, of the Five Nations, informed M. de Vaudreuil at Montreal, that General Amherst was marching to invade Canada with a very considerable army by the rapids and Lake Ontario, whilst General Murray had orders to come up the river with his army from Quebec, and join Gen. Amherst at Montreal. But they had no knowledge of a third body of troops, about four thousand men, that came by Lake Champlain, in the month of July, five weeks before the arrival of the other two armies at Montreal, and besieged Isle aux Noix with a very considerable train of artillery, cannon, mortars, c., in profusion. They erected five batteries of guns on the south side of the river, with a bomb battery, which rendered our trenches useless, as they had a sight of us everywhere, back, face and sideways, and so near us that at the south staccado they killed several of our soldiers by their musket shots. The sandy ground protected us from the effect of their shells, which they threw upon us in great numbers, with a continual fire from their gun batteries. After sixteen days' siege with a most violent cannonade, without a moment's interruption, M. Nogaire, an officer in the Regiment of Royal Roussillon, came to us from Montreal, having crossed directly through the woods, with some Indians for his guides, with two letters from De Bougainville, one of which was from him to Vaudreuil, and the other from M. de Levis. It was a very critical conjuncture, having only two days' provision for the garrison, which had subsisted until the arrival of the English troops by means of fishingnets, that river abounding with the most delicious fish, with seven or eight oxen, which had been kept as a reserve and killed by the enemy's cannon. M. de Vaudreuil's letter contained a permission to M. de Bougainville to capitulate or retire from the island if it was possible. M. de Levis' letter was a positive order to defend that post to the last extremity. De Bougainville, notwithstanding his genius, good sense and learning, with personal courage, and who lacked only taste for the study of the art of war to distinguish himself, was nevertheless put to a nonplus how to act from the contradictory orders he received. In this dilemma he shewed me the letters, asking at the same time my advice; and my answer was:\"That in two days famine must oblige us to surrender to the enemy at discretion. That the reinforcements of a thousand men at Montreal might be of the greatest importance, and help to make a good countenance when the English army had advanced in the neighborhood of it. That it was M. de Vaudreuil who commandedinchief in Canada, and not M. de Levis; and that there was yet a possibility of retiring with the garrison towards the north side of the island, where the swampy ground upon the border of the river had hindered the English from establishing a post.\" De Bougainville immediately decided for a retreat, which was executed and combined with equal justness; and the success answered exactly to the prudence, wisdom and good conduct that De Bougainville exhibited in preparing for it. It was then about ten in the morning when Nogaire arrived with the Indians, whonot accustomed to such a terrible fire as was at that moment poured forth by the English batteries, very different from their way of fighting behind treeswere not at all at ease, and furiously impatient to get out of the island. The hour of retreat was settled for ten that night. The north shore of Isle aux Noix, on the opposite side of the river, was marshy to the distance of three hundred paces from the river, covered with small trees where there was a rising ground, and there was no English post nearer to it than at the Prairie de Boileau, distant half a mile down the river, so that the locality where the river was fordable was a little below the north staccados. De Bougainville adopted every prudent measure imaginable to achieve success. He ordered all the boats to be mended and put in condition to be used at a moment's warning. He also ordained that the boats, bark canoes, and punts hewn out of a large tree, be removed a certain distance from the river side, lest some soldier should desert and apprise the English of his design, such as had happened from the posts near Quebec. He commanded that all the garrison should be in order of battle at ten at night, all observing a profound silence, without the least clashing of arms or other noise, and be in readiness to march. He ordered M. le Borgne, an officer in the colonial troops, to remain on the island with a detachment of forty men, to keep up a smart fire from our battery, which consisted of seven or eight pieces of cannon, during the time we were employed in passing the river, in order to hinder the English from hearing us in our operations, and to continue firing whilst ammunition lasted, and to conceal our retreat as long as it was possible to do so. We began to cross the river in two lighters, with some small boats, about ten at night. They plied continually to and fro until midnight, when all had crossed the river without the enemy perceiving or even suspecting our operation, although so near to us were their posts on their left that we heard distinctly their voices. All was executed without the least noise, disorder, or confusiona rare occurrence on such an occasion. Le Borgne acted well, and at the same time economized his ammunition so well that he had wherewith to fire upon the English at intervals until one in the morning. Imagining us then to be near Montreal, he hoisted the white flag to capitulate, and the English, not having the smallest notion of our retreat, granted him immediately very honorable terms. We had eighty men killed or wounded during the siegea very inconsiderable loss for a cannonade of sixteen days' duration, from five batteries, besides a bomb battery, without an instant's intermission. Had it been a stony instead of a sandy ground, we must have lost above onehalf of the garrison, and could not have resisted so long. So soon as everyone had passed the river, we set out for Montreal, crossing through the woods, which, in a straight line, is only eight leagues from Isle aux Noix, always half running one after the other, after having marched in this manner, from midnight until twelve at noon, over fens, swamps, mosses, and sinking often up to the waist in marshy ground, without reposing or halting one minute. Instead of being near Montreal, as we imagined, we were thunderstruck on finding ourselves, by the fault of our guides, to be only at the distance of half a league from Isle aux Noix: our guide, not knowing the road through the woods, had caused us to turn round continually for twelve hours without advancing! We were so near an English post at the Prairie de Boileau, that a grenadier of the Regiment de Berry, seeing his commander, Cormier, sink down with fatigue, and not in a condition to go any further, carried off a horse from them which was upon the borders of the wood, and mounted his commander on it; otherwise he would have been left aside and taken prisoner by the English, or scalped by the Indians. Having lost all hopes of going to Montreal through the woods, we took the road to Fort St. Jean, on the River Chambly, four leagues lower than Isle aux Noix, and five leagues by land to Montreal. My strength was so entirely spent, that it was with great difficulty I could draw one leg after the other. Nevertheless the fear of falling into the hands of the Indians, the idea of the horrible cruelties which they practice on their prisoners, which shock human nature, prevented me from sinking down with pain, and gave me strength to push on. Arrived at a settlement at four in the afternoon, about a league and a half from St. John's Fort, where De Bougainville caused his detachment to halt and repose themselves for the first time since midnight, that they left Isle aux Noix. I perceived there a boat going off to St. Jean, and I had only strength enough remaining to throw myself into it. We lost in this march about eighty men: those who could not hold out were left behind, victims to the Indians. Arriving at St. John's Fort, the first person I saw there was Poularies, on the river side, who told me they had news of our retreat, and that he was sent with his regiment to sustain us in case we had been pursued by the English. We were now shut up in the island of Montreal on all sides. The English were masters of the River Chambly by the possession of Isle aux Noix. General Amherst approached with his army from Lake Ontario; and General Murray was in march, coming up from Quebec, with six thousand men that had passed through the winter there, and with some menofwar, one of which of about forty guns, on its arrival in sight of the town of Montreal, greatly astonished, and excited the admiration of, the inhabitants, who, from the ignorance and negligence of those persons charged with the sounding of the St. Lawrence, had never seen vessels arrive there of above sixty or seventy tons. General Murray conducted himself as an officer of great understanding, knowledge and capacity, and left nothing to do for General Amherst; he employed five weeks in coming from Quebec to Montreal, which is only sixty leagues, and did us during his march more harm by his policy than by his army. He stopped often in the villages; spoke kindly to the inhabitants he found at home in their houseswhom hunger and famine had obliged to fly from our army at Montreal; gave provisions to those unhappy creatures perishing for want of subsistence. He burned, in some cases, the houses of those who were absent from home and in the French army at Montreal, publishing everywhere an amnesty and good treatment to all Canadians who would return to their habitations and live there peaceably. In shortflattering some and frightening othershe succeeded so well, that at last there was no more possibility of keeping them at Montreal. It is true we had now only need of them to make a good countenance. The three English armies amounting to above twenty thousand men, it was impossible to make any further resistance. Amherst's army appeared in sight from the town of Montreal, towards the gate of Lachine, on the 7th of September, about three in the afternoon. General Murray with his army, from Quebec, appeared two hours after at the opposite side of the town: thus a dark crisis was at hand for the fate of Canada. Montreal was nowise susceptible of defence. It was surrounded with stone walls, built in the beginning of that colony, merely to preserve the inhabitants from the incursions of the Indians, few imagining at that time it would become the theatre of a regular war, and that one day they would see formidable armies of regular, welldisciplined troops before its walls. We were, however, all pent up in that miserable, bad placewithout provisions, a thousand times worse off than an advantageous position in open fieldswhose pitiful walls could not resist two hours' cannonade without being level with the ground, and where we would have been forced to surrender at discretion, if the English had insisted upon it. The night between the 7th and 8th September was passed in negotiating for the articles of capitulation. But in the morning all the difficulties were removed, and General Amherst granted conditions infinitely more favourable than could be expected in our circumstances. Thus the Canadians, as brave as they are docile, and easy to be governed, became subjects of Great Britain; and if they can think themselves happy under that Government, by remembering their past vexations, they will do so. M. (Col.) Poularies and M. (Col.) Dalquier, who were generally distinguished in the French army by their high sense of honor, probity, and their bravery, experience and knowledge in the art of war, were both of them, on their arrival in France, broken as commanders of a battaliona grade which was abolished in the French service, in order to make the Major, as in the British service, command the regiment in absence of the Colonel and LieutenantColonel. Belcomb, Poularies' Adjt. of Royal Roussillon, and Montgnary, Captain in the Regiment of Bearn which Dalquier commanded(two very handsome men, capable to attract the attention of the ladies of any court in Europe)were made Colonels of Foot, without possessing any remarkable military talent or capacity. Fortune manifested most cruelly her almighty power in the military state, where justice, punishments and rewards alone ought to be the base of it. Men conduct themselves from the view either of honor or interest; and there can be no emulation in a service where mediocrity of talents, intrigues, favor, and credit, override merit. Greatness of soul, joined to superiority of talent, ignores the art of cringing; it is even impossible that merit can lead to fortune in a corrupted and venal country: on the contrary, it becomes a cause of exclusion. Virtue elevates the soul, and can neither fawn nor buy credit, nor flatter vice and incapacity. \"If such is the military constitution of a State,\" says M. Gaubert, in his Treatise of Tactics, \"of which the Sovereign (the King of Prussia) is one of the greatest men of the age, who instructs and commands his armies, and whose armies form all the pomp of the court, what ought it to be in those States where the Sovereign is not at all a military man; where he does not see his troops; where he seems to disdain or be ignorant of all that regards them; where the Court, who always obey the impression of the Sovereign, is consequently not military; where almost all the great rewards are obtained by surprise, by intrigue; where the greater portion of favors are hereditary; where merit languishes for want of support; where favor can advance without talent; where to make a fortune no more implies acquiring a reputation, but merely to heap up riches; where men may be, at one and the same time, covered with orders and infamywith grades and ignorance, serve ill the State, and occupy the best places; be smeared with the censure of the public, and enjoy the Sovereign's good graces? If, whilst all other sciences are becoming perfected, that of war remains in its infancy, it is the fault of the Governments, who do not attach to it sufficient importance; who do not make it an object of public education; who fail to direct men of genius to that profession; who suffer them to find more glory and advantages in sciences trifling or less useful; who render the profession of arms an ungrateful employment, where talents are outstripped by intrigue, and the prizes distributed by Fortune.\" General Amherst, according to his statement in his letter to Mr. Pitt, then Secretary of State, lost in coming down the rapidswithout meeting there any opposition from the French or Indiansby drowning, eightyfour men. Twenty more of the regiments' boats were dashed to pieces. Seven boats of the artillery, loaded with arms and ammunition, and one of his galleys, were also lost. If 900 Indians had been there, as they should have been, scattered in the woods upon the borders of the river, with 1,200 Canadians, which they had solicited earnestly from M. de Vaudreuil, to defend those difficult passes of the Rapids, but which this officer obstinately refused, what would have become of General Amherst? How could he have got out of the scrape? As it happened to Braddock, Amherst and his army must have perished there; his expedition would have been fruitless, and Canada would have been yet saved to France: but heaven willed it otherwise. How long the English may preserve this conquest depends on their own wise and prudent conduct. THE END. The original of this manuscript is deposited in the French war archives, in Paris: a copy was, with the permission of the French Government, taken by P.L. Morin, Esq., Draughtsman to the Crown Lands Department of Canada, about 1855, and deposited in the Library of the Legislative Assembly of Canada. The Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, through the kindness of Mr. Todd, the Librarian, was permitted to have communication thereof. This document is supposed to have been written some years after the return to France from Canada of the writer, the Chevalier Johnstone, a Scotch Jacobite, who had fled to France after the defeat at Culloden, and had obtained from the French monarch, with several other Scotchmen, commissions in the French armies. In 1748, says Francisque Michel,D he sailed from Rochefort as an Ensign with troops going to Cape Breton: he continued to serve in America until he returned to France, in December, 1760, having acted during the campaign of 1759, in Canada, as aidedecamp to Chevalier de Levis. On de Levis being ordered to Montreal, Johnstone was detached and retained by General Montcalm on his staff, on account of his thorough knowledge of the environs of Quebec, and particularly of Beauport, where the principal works of defence stood, and where the whole army, some 11,000 men, were entrenched, leaving in Quebec merely a garrison of 1,500. The journal is written in English, and is not remarkable for orthography or purity of diction: either Johnstone had forgotten, or had never thoroughly known, the language. Footnote D: Les Ecossais en France, vol. ii, p. 449. Transcribed from the 1889 Cassell  Company edition by David Price, email ccx074coventry.ac.uk DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. BY LORD LYTTELTON. CASSELL  COMPANY, LIMITED: LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK  MELBOURNE. 1889. INTRODUCTION. George, Lord Lyttelton, was born in 1709, at Hagley, in Worcestershire. He was educated at Eton and at Christchurch, Oxford, entered Parliament, became a Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer. In 1757 he withdrew from politics, was raised to the peerage, and spent the last eighteen years of his life in lettered ease. In 1760 Lord Lyttelton first published these \"Dialogues of the Dead,\" which were revised for a fourth edition in 1765, and in 1767 he published in four volumes a \"History of the Life of King Henry the Second and of the Age in which he Lived,\" a work upon which he had been busy for thirty years. He began it not long after he had published, at the age of twentysix, his \"Letters from a Persian in England to his Friend at Ispahan.\" If we go farther back we find George Lyttelton, aged twentythree, beginning his life in literature as a poet, with four eclogues on \"The Progress of Love.\" To the last Lord Lyttelton was poet enough to feel true fellowship with poets of his day. He loved good literature, and his own works show that he knew it. He counted Henry Fielding among his friends; he was a friend and helper to James Thomson, the author of \"The Seasons;\" and when acting as secretary to the king's son, Frederick, Prince of Wales (who held a little court of his own, in which there was much said about liberty), his friendship brought Thomson and Mallet together in work on a masque for the Prince and Princess, which included the song of \"Rule Britannia.\" Before Lord Lyttelton followed their example, \"Dialogues of the Dead\" had been written by Lucian, and by Fenelon, and by Fontenelle; and in our time they have been written by Walter Savage Landor. This halfdramatic plan of presenting a man's own thoughts upon the life of man and characters of men, and on the issues of men's characters in shaping life, is a way of essay writing pleasant alike to the writer and the reader. Lord Lyttelton was at his best in it. The form of writing obliged him to work with a lighter touch than he used when he sought to maintain the dignity of history by the style of his \"History of Henry II.\" His calm liberality of mind enters into the discussion of many topics. His truths are old, but there are no real truths of human life and conduct, worth anything at all, that are of yesterday. Human love itself is called \"the old, old story;\" but do we therefore cease from loving, or from finding such ways as we can of saying that we love. Dr. Johnson was not at his wisest when he found fault with Lord Lyttelton because, in his \"Dialogues of the Dead,\" \"that man sat down to write a book, to tell the world what the world had all his life been telling him.\" This was exactly what he wished to do. In the Preface to his revised edition Lord Lyttelton said, \"Sometimes a new dress may render an old truth more pleasing to those whom the mere love of novelty betrays into error, as it frequently does not only the wits, but the sages of these days. Indeed, one of the best services that could now be done to mankind by any good writer would be the bringing them back to common sense, from which the desire of shining by extraordinary notions has seduced great numbers, to the no small detriment of morality and of all real knowledge.\" At any rate, we now find it worth while to know what the world had been telling all his life to an enlightened, highlyeducated man, who was an active politician in the days of Walpole and of the elder Pitt, who was a friend of Pope's and of the best writers of the day, and who in his occasional verse added at least one line to the household words of English literature when in his warmhearted Prologue to Thomson's play of Coriolanus, produced after its writer's death, he said of that poet what we may say of Lord Lyttelton himself, that he gave to the world \"Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.\" H. M. DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. DIALOGUE I. LORD FALKLANDMR. HAMPDEN. Lord Falkland.Are not you surprised to see me in Elysium, Mr. Hampden? Mr. Hampden.I was going to put the same question to your lordship, for doubtless you thought me a rebel. Lord Falkland.And certainly you thought me an apostate from the Commonwealth, and a supporter of tyranny. Mr. Hampden.I own I did, and I don't wonder at the severity of your thoughts about me. The heat of the times deprived us both of our natural candour. Yet I will confess to you here, that, before I died, I began to see in our party enough to justify your apprehensions that the civil war, which we had entered into from generous motives, from a laudable desire to preserve our free constitution, would end very unhappily, and perhaps, in the issue, destroy that constitution, even by the arms of those who pretended to be most zealous for it. Lord Falkland.And I will as frankly own to you that I saw, in the court and camp of the king, so much to alarm me for the liberty of my country, if our arms were successful, that I dreaded a victory little less than I did a defeat, and had nothing in my mouth but the word peace, which I constantly repeated with passionate fondness, in every council at which I was called to assist. Mr. Hampden.I wished for peace too, as ardently as your lordship, but I saw no hopes of it. The insincerity of the king and the influence of the queen made it impossible to trust to his promises and declarations. Nay, what reliance could we reasonably have upon laws designed to limit and restrain the power of the Crown, after he had violated the Bill of Rights, obtained with such difficulty, and containing so clear an assertion of the privileges which had been in dispute? If his conscience would allow him to break an Act of Parliament, made to determine the bounds of the royal prerogative, because he thought that the royal prerogative could have no bounds, what legal ties could bind a conscience so prejudiced? or what effectual security could his people obtain against the obstinate malignity of such an opinion, but entirely taking from him the power of the sword, and enabling themselves to defend the laws he had passed? Lord Falkland.There is evidently too much truth in what you have said. But by taking from the king the power of the sword, you in reality took all power. It was converting the government into a democracy; and if he had submitted to it, he would only have preserved the name of a king. The sceptre would have been held by those who had the sword; or we must have lived in a state of perpetual anarchy, without any force or balance in the government; a state which could not have lasted long, but would have ended in a republic or in absolute dominion. Mr. Hampden.Your reasoning seems unanswerable. But what could we do? Let Dr. Laud and those other court divines, who directed the king's conscience, and fixed in it such principles as made him unfit to govern a limited monarchythough with many good qualities, and some great oneslet them, I say, answer for all the mischiefs they brought upon him and the nation. Lord Falkland.They were indeed much to blame; but those principles had gained ground before their times, and seemed the principles of our Church, in opposition to the Jesuits, who had certainly gone too far in the other extreme. Mr. Hampden.It is a disgrace to our Church to have taken up such opinions; and I will venture to prophesy that our clergy in future times must renounce them, or they will be turned against them by those who mean their destruction. Suppose a Popish king on the throne, will the clergy adhere to passive obedience and nonresistance? If they do, they deliver up their religion to Rome; if they do not, their practice will confute their own doctrines. Lord Falkland.Nature, sir, will in the end be sure to set right whatever opinion contradicts her great laws, let who will be the teacher. But, indeed, the more I reflect on those miserable times in which we both lived, the more I esteem it a favour of Providence to us that we were cut off so soon. The most grievous misfortune that can befall a virtuous man is to be in such a state that he can hardly so act as to approve his own conduct. In such a state we both were. We could not easily make a step, either forward or backward, without great hazard of guilt, or at least of dishonour. We were unhappily entangled in connections with men who did not mean so well as ourselves, or did not judge so rightly. If we endeavoured to stop them, they thought us false to the cause; if we went on with them, we ran directly upon rocks, which we saw, but could not avoid. Nor could we take shelter in a philosophical retreat from business. Inaction would in us have been cowardice and desertion. To complete the public calamities, a religious fury, on both sides, mingled itself with the rage of our civil dissensions, more frantic than that, more implacable, more averse to all healing measures. The most intemperate counsels were thought the most pious, and a regard to the laws, if they opposed the suggestions of these fiery zealots, was accounted irreligion. This added new difficulties to what was before but too difficult in itself, the settling of a nation which no longer could put any confidence in its sovereign, nor lay more restraints on the royal authority without destroying the balance of the whole constitution. In those circumstances, the balls that pierced our hearts were directed thither by the hands of our guardian angels, to deliver us from horrors we could not support, and perhaps from a guilt our souls abhorred. Mr. Hampden.Indeed, things were brought to so deplorable a state, that if either of us had seen his party triumphant, he must have lamented that triumph as the ruin of his country. Were I to return into life, the experience I have had would make me very cautious how I kindled the sparks of civil war in England; for I have seen that, when once that devouring fire is lighted, it is not in the power of the head of a party to say to the conflagration, \"Thus far shalt thou go, and here shall thy violence stop.\" Lord Falkland.The conversation we have had, as well as the reflections of my own mind on past events, would, if I were condemned to my body again, teach me great moderation in my judgments of persons who might happen to differ from me in difficult scenes of public action; they would entirely cure me of the spirit of party, and make me think that as in the Church, so also in the State, no evil is more to be feared than a rancorous and enthusiastical zeal. DIALOGUE II. LOUIS LE GRANDPETER THE GREAT. Louis.Who, sir, could have thought, when you were learning the trade of a shipwright in the dockyards of England and Holland, that you would ever acquire, as I had done, the surname of \"Great.\" Peter.Which of us best deserved that title posterity will decide. But my greatness appeared sufficiently in that very act which seemed to you a debasement. Louis.The dignity of a king does not stoop to such mean employments. For my own part, I was careful never to appear to the eyes of my subjects or foreigners but in all the splendour and majesty of royal power. Peter.Had I remained on the throne of Russia, as my ancestors did, environed with all the pomp of barbarous greatness, I should have been idolised by my peopleas much, at least, as you ever were by the French. My despotism was more absolute, their servitude was more humble. But then I could not have reformed their evil customs; have taught them arts, civility, navigation, and war; have exalted them from brutes in human shapes into men. In this was seen the extraordinary force of my genius beyond any comparison with all other kings, that I thought it no degradation or diminution of my greatness to descend from my throne, and go and work in the dockyards of a foreign republic; to serve as a private sailor in my own fleets, and as a common soldier in my own army, till I had raised myself by my merit in all the several steps and degrees of promotion up to the highest command, and had thus induced my nobility to submit to a regular subordination in the sea and land service by a lesson hard to their pride, and which they would not have learnt from any other master or by any other method of instruction. Louis.I am forced to acknowledge that it was a great act. When I thought it a mean one, my judgment was perverted by the prejudices arising from my own education and the ridicule thrown upon it by some of my courtiers, whose minds were too narrow to be able to comprehend the greatness of yours in that situation. Peter.It was an act of more heroism than any ever done by Alexander or Caesar. Nor would I consent to exchange my glory with theirs. They both did great things; but they were at the head of great nations, far superior in valour and military skill to those with whom they contended. I was the king of an ignorant, undisciplined, barbarous people. My enemies were at first so superior to my subjects that ten thousand of them could beat a hundred thousand Russians. They had formidable navies; I had not a ship. The King of Sweden was a prince of the most intrepid courage, assisted by generals of consummate knowledge in war, and served by soldiers so disciplined that they were become the admiration and terror of Europe. Yet I vanquished these soldiers; I drove that prince to take refuge in Turkey; I won battles at sea as well as land; I new created my people; I gave them arts, science, policy; I enabled them to keep all the powers of the North in awe and dependence, to give kings to Poland, to check and intimidate the Ottoman emperors, to mix with great weight in the affairs of all Europe. What other man has ever done such wonders as these? Read all the records of ancient and modern times, and find, if you can, one fit to be put in comparison with me! Louis.Your glory would indeed have been supreme and unequalled if, in civilising your subjects, you had reformed the brutality of your own manners and the barbarous vices of your nature. But, alas! the legislator and reformer of the Muscovites was drunken and cruel. Peter.My drunkenness I confess; nor will I plead, to excuse it, the example of Alexander. It inflamed the tempers of both, which were by nature too fiery, into furious passions of anger, and produced actions of which our reason, when sober, was ashamed. But the cruelty you upbraid me with may in some degree be excused, as necessary to the work I had to perform. Fear of punishment was in the hearts of my barbarous subjects the only principle of obedience. To make them respect the royal authority I was obliged to arm it with all the terrors of rage. You had a more pliant people to governa people whose minds could be ruled, like a finemanaged horse, with an easy and gentle rein. The fear of shame did more with them than the fear of the knout could do with the Russians. The humanity of your character and the ferocity of mine were equally suitable to the nations over which we reigned. But what excuse can you find for the cruel violence you employed against your Protestant subjects? They desired nothing but to live under the protection of laws you yourself had confirmed; and they repaid that protection by the most hearty zeal for your service. Yet these did you force, by the most inhuman severities, either to quit the religion in which they were bred, and which their consciences still retained, or to leave their native land, and endure all the woes of a perpetual exile. If the rules of policy could not hinder you from thus depopulating your kingdom, and transferring to foreign countries its manufactures and commerce, I am surprised that your heart itself did not stop you. It makes one shudder to think that such orders should be sent from the most polished court in Europe, as the most savage Tartars could hardly have executed without remorse and compassion. Louis.It was not my heart, but my religion, that dictated these severities. My confessor told me they alone would atone for all my sins. Peter.Had I believed in my patriarch as you believed in your priest, I should not have been the great monarch that I was. But I mean not to detract from the merit of a prince whose memory is dear to his subjects. They are proud of having obeyed you, which is certainly the highest praise to a king. My people also date their glory from the era of my reign. But there is this capital distinction between us. The pomp and pageantry of state were necessary to your greatness; I was great in myself, great in the energy and powers of my mind, great in the superiority and sovereignty of my soul over all other men. DIALOGUE III. PLATOFENELON. Plato.Welcome to Elysium, O thou, the most pure, the most gentle, the most refined disciple of philosophy that the world in modern times has produced! Sage Fenelon, welcome!I need not name myself to you. Our souls by sympathy must know one another. Fenelon.I know you to be Plato, the most amiable of all the disciples of Socrates, and the philosopher of all antiquity whom I most desired to resemble. Plato.Homer and Orpheus are impatient to see you in that region of these happy fields which their shades inhabit. They both acknowledge you to be a great poet, though you have written no verses. And they are now busy in composing for you unfading wreaths of all the finest and sweetest Elysian flowers. But I will lead you from them to the sacred grove of philosophy, on the highest hill of Elysium, where the air is most pure and most serene. I will conduct you to the fountain of wisdom, in which you will see, as in your own writings, the fair image of virtue perpetually reflected. It will raise in you more love than was felt by Narcissus, when he contemplated the beauty of his own face in the unruffled spring. But you shall not pine, as he did, for a shadow. The goddess herself will affectionately meet your embraces and mingle with your soul. Fenelon.I find you retain the allegorical and poetical style, of which you were so fond in many of your writings. Mine also run sometimes into poetry, particularly in my \"Telemachus,\" which I meant to make a kind of epic composition. But I dare not rank myself among the great poets, nor pretend to any equality in oratory with you, the most eloquent of philosophers, on whose lips the Attic bees distilled all their honey. Plato.The French language is not so harmonious as the Greek, yet you have given a sweetness to it which equally charms the ear and heart. When one reads your compositions, one thinks that one hears Apollo's lyre, strung by the hands of the Graces, and tuned by the Muses. The idea of a perfect king, which you have exhibited in your \"Telemachus,\" far excels, in my own judgment, my imaginary \"Republic.\" Your \"Dialogues\" breathe the pure spirit of virtue, of unaffected good sense, of just criticism, of fine taste. They are in general as superior to your countryman Fontenelle's as reason is to false wit, or truth to affectation. The greatest fault of them, I think, is, that some are too short. Fenelon.It has been objected to themand I am sensible of it myselfthat most of them are too full of commonplace morals. But I wrote them for the instruction of a young prince, and one cannot too forcibly imprint on the minds of those who are born to empire the most simple truths; because, as they grow up, the flattery of a court will try to disguise and conceal from them those truths, and to eradicate from their hearts the love of their duty, if it has not taken there a very deep root. Plato.It is, indeed, the peculiar misfortune of princes, that they are often instructed with great care in the refinements of policy, and not taught the first principles of moral obligations, or taught so superficially that the virtuous man is soon lost in the corrupt politician. But the lessons of virtue you gave your royal pupil are so graced by the charms of your eloquence that the oldest and wisest men may attend to them with pleasure. All your writings are embellished with a sublime and agreeable imagination, which gives elegance to simplicity, and dignity to the most vulgar and obvious truths. I have heard, indeed, that your countrymen are less sensible of the beauty of your genius and style than any of their neighbours. What has so much depraved their taste? Fenelon.That which depraved the taste of the Romans after the ago of Augustusan immoderate love of wit, of paradox, of refinement. The works of their writers, like the faces of their women, must be painted and adorned with artificial embellishments to attract their regards. And thus the natural beauty of both is lost. But it is no wonder if few of them esteem my \"Telemachus,\" as the maxims I have principally inculcated there are thought by many inconsistent with the grandeur of their monarchy, and with the splendour of a refined and opulent nation. They seem generally to be falling into opinions that the chief end of society is to procure the pleasures of luxury; that a nice and elegant taste of voluptuous enjoyments is the perfection of merit; and that a king, who is gallant, magnificent, liberal, who builds a fine palace, who furnishes it well with good statues and pictures, who encourages the fine arts, and makes them subservient to every modish vice, who has a restless ambition, a perfidious policy, and a spirit of conquest, is better for them than a Numa or a Marcus Aurelius. Whereas to check the excesses of luxurythose excesses, I mean, which enfeeble the spirit of a nationto ease the people, as much as is possible, of the burden of taxes; to give them the blessings of peace and tranquillity, when they can he obtained without injury or dishonour; to make them frugal, and hardy, and masculine in the temper of their bodies and minds, that they may be the fitter for war whenever it does come upon them; but, above all, to watch diligently over their morals, and discourage whatever may defile or corrupt themis the great business of government, and ought to be in all circumstances the principal object of a wise legislature. Unquestionably that is the happiest country which has most virtue in it; and to the eye of sober reason the poorest Swiss canton is a much nobler state than the kingdom of France, if it has more liberty, better morals, a more settled tranquillity, more moderation in prosperity, and more firmness in danger. Plato.Your notions are just, and if your country rejects them she will not long hold the rank of the first nation in Europe. Her declension is begun, her ruin approaches; for, omitting all other arguments, can a state be well served when the raising of an opulent fortune in its service, and making a splendid use of that fortune, is a distinction more envied than any which arises from integrity in office or public spirit in government? Can that spirit, which is the parent of national greatness, continue vigorous and diffusive where the desire of wealth, for the sake of a luxury which wealth alone can support, and an ambition aspiring, not to glory, but to profit, are the predominant passions? If it exists in a king or a minister of state, how will either of them find among a people so disposed the necessary instruments to execute his great designs; or, rather, what obstruction will he not find from the continual opposition of private interest to public? But if, on the contrary, a court inclines to tyranny, what a facility will be given by these dispositions to that evil purpose? How will men with minds relaxed by the enervating ease and softness of luxury have vigour to oppose it? Will not most of them lean to servitude, as their natural state, as that in which the extravagant and insatiable cravings of their artificial wants may best be gratified at the charge of a bountiful master or by the spoils of an enslaved and ruined people? When all sense of public virtue is thus destroyed, will not fraud, corruption, and avarice, or the opposite workings of court factions to bring disgrace on each other, ruin armies and fleets without the help of an enemy, and give up the independence of the nation to foreigners, after having betrayed its liberties to a king? All these mischiefs you saw attendant on that luxury, which some modern philosophers account (as I am informed) the highest good to a state! Time will show that their doctrines are pernicious to society, pernicious to government; and that yours, tempered and moderated so as to render them more practicable in the present circumstances of your country, are wise, salutary, and deserving of the general thanks of mankind. But lest you should think, from the praise I have given you, that flattery can find a place in Elysium, allow me to lament, with the tender sorrow of a friend, that a man so superior to all other follies could give into the reveries of a Madame Guyon, a distracted enthusiast. How strange was it to see the two great lights of France, you and the Bishop of Meaux, engaged in a controversy whether a madwoman was a heretic or a saint! Fenelon.I confess my own weakness, and the ridiculousness of the dispute; but did not your warm imagination carry you also into some reveries about divine love, in which you talked unintelligibly, even to yourself? Plato.I felt something more than I was able to express. Fenelon.I had my feelings too, as fine and as lively as yours; but we should both have done better to have avoided those subjects in which sentiment took the place of reason. DIALOGUE IV. MR. ADDISONDR. SWIFT. Dr. Swift.Surely, Addison, Fortune was exceedingly inclined to play the fool (a humour her ladyship, as well as most other ladies of very great quality, is frequently in) when she made you a minister of state and me a divine! Addison.I must confess we were both of us out of our elements; but you don't mean to insinuate that all would have been right if our destinies had been reversed? Swift.Yes, I do. You would have made an excellent bishop, and I should have governed Great Britain, as I did Ireland, with an absolute sway, while I talked of nothing but liberty, property, and so forth. Addison.You governed the mob of Ireland; but I never understood that you governed the kingdom. A nation and a mob are very different things. Swift.Ay, so you fellows that have no genius for politics may suppose; but there are times when, by seasonably putting himself at the head of the mob, an able man may get to the head of the nation. Nay, there are times when the nation itself is a mob, and ought to be treated as such by a skilful observer. Addison.I don't deny the truth of your proposition; but is there no danger that, from the natural vicissitudes of human affairs, the favourite of the mob should be mobbed in his turn? Swift.Sometimes there may, but I risked it, and it answered my purpose. Ask the lordlieutenants, who were forced to pay court to me instead of my courting them, whether they did not feel my superiority. And if I could make myself so considerable when I was only a dirty Dean of St. Patrick's, without a seat in either House of Parliament, what should I have done if Fortune had placed me in England, unencumbered with a gown, and in a situation that would have enabled me to make myself heard in the House of Lords or of Commons? Addison.You would undoubtedly have done very marvellous acts! Perhaps you might then have been as zealous a Whig as my Lord Wharton himself; or, if the Whigs had unhappily offended the statesman as they did the doctor, who knows whether you might not have brought in the Pretender? Pray let me ask you one question between you and me: If your great talents had raised you to the office of first minister under that prince, would you have tolerated the Protestant religion or not? Swift.Ha! Mr. Secretary, are you witty upon me? Do you think, because Sunderland took a fancy to make you a great man in the state, that he, or his master, could make you as great in wit as Nature made me? No, no; wit is like grace, it must be given from above. You can no more get that from the king than my lords the bishops can the other. And, though I will own you had some, yet believe me, my good friend, it was no match for mine. I think you have not vanity enough in your nature to pretend to a competition in that point with me. Addison.I have been told by my friends that I was rather too modest, so I will not determine this dispute for myself, but refer it to Mercury, the god of wit, who fortunately happens to be coming this way with a soul he has brought to the Shades. Hail, divine Hermes! A question of precedence in the class of wit and humour, over which you preside, having arisen between me and my countryman, Dr. Swift, we beg leave Mercury.Dr. Swift, I rejoice to see you. How does my old lad? How does honest Lemuel Gulliver? Have you been in Lilliput lately, or in the Flying Island, or with your good nurse Glumdalclitch? Pray when did you eat a crust with Lord Peter? Is Jack as mad still as ever? I hear that since you published the history of his case the poor fellow, by more gentle usage, is almost got well. If he had but more food he would be as much in his senses as Brother Martin himself; but Martin, they tell me, has lately spawned a strange brood of Methodists, Moravians, Hutchinsonians, who are madder than ever Jack was in his worst days. It is a great pity you are not alive again to make a new edition of your \"Tale of the Tub\" for the use of these fellows. Mr. Addison, I beg your pardon; I should have spoken to you sooner, but I was so struck with the sight of my old friend the doctor, that I forgot for a time the respects due to you. Swift.Addison, I think our dispute is decided before the judge has heard the cause. Addison.I own it is in your favour, but Mercury.Don't be discouraged, friend Addison. Apollo perhaps would have given a different judgment. I am a wit, and a rogue, and a foe to all dignity. Swift and I naturally like one another. He worships me more than Jupiter, and I honour him more than Homer; but yet, I assure you, I have a great value for you. Sir Roger de Coverley, Will Honeycomb, Will Wimble, the Country Gentleman in the Freeholder, and twenty more characters, drawn with the finest strokes of unaffected wit and humour in your admirable writings, have obtained for you a high place in the class of my authors, though not quite so high a one as the Dean of St. Patrick's. Perhaps you might have got before him if the decency of your nature and the cautiousness of your judgment would have given you leave. But, allowing that in the force and spirit of his wit he has really the advantage, how much does he yield to you in all the elegant graces, in the fine touches of delicate sentiment, in developing the secret springs of the soul, in showing the mild lights and shades of a character, in distinctly marking each line, and every soft gradation of tints, which would escape the common eye? Who ever painted like you the beautiful parts of human nature, and brought them out from under the shade even of the greatest simplicity, or the most ridiculous weaknesses; so that we are forced to admire and feel that we venerate, even while we are laughing? Swift was able to do nothing that approaches to this. He could draw an ill face, or caricature a good one, with a masterly hand; but there was all his power, and, if I am to speak as a god, a worthless power it is. Yours is divine. It tends to exalt human nature. Swift.Pray, good Mercury (if I may have liberty to say a word for myself) do you think that my talent was not highly beneficial to correct human nature? Is whipping of no use to mend naughty boys? Mercury.Men are generally not so patient of whipping as boys, and a rough satirist is seldom known to mend them. Satire, like antimony, if it be used as a medicine, must be rendered less corrosive. Yours is often rank poison. But I will allow that you have done some good in your way, though not half so much as Addison did in his. Addison.Mercury, I am satisfied. It matters little what rank you assign me as a wit, if you give me the precedence as a friend and benefactor to mankind. Mercury.I pass sentence on the writers, not the men, and my decree is this:When any hero is brought hither who wants to be humbled, let the talk of lowering his arrogance be assigned to Swift. The same good office may be done to a philosopher vain of his wisdom and virtue, or to a bigot puffed up with spiritual pride. The doctor's discipline will soon convince the first, that with all his boasted morality, he is but a Yahoo; and the latter, that to be holy he must necessarily be humble. I would also have him apply his anticosmetic wash to the painted face of female vanity, and his rod, which draws blood at every stroke, to the hard back of insolent folly or petulant wit. But Addison should be employed to comfort those whose delicate minds are dejected with too painful a sense of some infirmities in their nature. To them he should hold his fair and charitable mirror, which would bring to their sight their hidden excellences, and put them in a temper fit for Elysium.Adieu. Continue to esteem and love each other, as you did in the other world, though you were of opposite parties, and, what is still more wonderful, rival wits. This alone is sufficient to entitle you both to Elysium. DIALOGUE V. ULYSSESCIRCE.IN CIRCE'S ISLAND. Circe.You will go then, Ulysses, but tell me, without reserve, what carries you from me? Ulysses.Pardon, goddess, the weakness of human nature. My heart will sigh for my country. It is an attachment which all my admiration of you cannot entirely overcome. Circe.This is not all. I perceive you are afraid to declare your whole mind. But what, Ulysses, do you fear? My terrors are gone. The proudest goddess on earth, when she has favoured a mortal as I have favoured you, has laid her divinity and power at his feet. Ulysses.It may be so while there still remains in her heart the tenderness of love, or in her mind the fear of shame. But you, Circe, are above those vulgar sensations. Circe.I understand your caution; it belongs to your character, and therefore, to remove all diffidence from you, I swear by Styx I will do no manner of harm, either to you or your friends, for anything which you say, however offensive it may be to my love or my pride, but will send you away from my island with all marks of my friendship. Tell me now, truly, what pleasures you hope to enjoy in the barren rock of Ithaca, which can compensate for those you leave in this paradise, exempt from all cares and overflowing with all delights? Ulysses.The pleasures of virtue; the supreme happiness of doing good. Here I do nothing. My mind is in a palsy; all its faculties are benumbed. I long to return into action, that I may worthily employ those talents which I have cultivated from the earliest days of my youth. Toils and cares fright not me; they are the exercise of my soul; they keep it in health and in vigour. Give me again the fields of Troy, rather than these vacant groves. There I could reap the bright harvest of glory; here I am hid like a coward from the eyes of mankind, and begin to appear comtemptible in my own. The image of my former self haunts and seems to upbraid me wheresoever I go. I meet it under the gloom of every shade; it even intrudes itself into your presence and chides me from your arms. O goddess, unless you have power to lay that spirit, unless you can make me forget myself, I cannot be happy here, I shall every day be more wretched. Circe.May not a wise and good man, who has spent all his youth in active life and honourable danger, when he begins to decline, be permitted to retire and enjoy the rest of his days in quiet and pleasure? Ulysses.No retreat can be honourable to a wise and good man but in company with the muses. Here I am deprived of that sacred society. The muses will not inhabit the abodes of voluptuousness and sensual pleasure. How can I study or think while such a number of beastsand the worst beasts are men turned into beastsare howling or roaring or grunting all about me? Circe.There may be something in this, but this I know is not all. You suppress the strongest reason that draws you to Ithaca. There is another image besides that of your former self, which appears to you in this island, which follows you in your walks, which more particularly interposes itself between you and me, and chides you from my arms. It is Penelope, Ulysses, I know it is. Don't pretend to deny it. You sigh for Penelope in my bosom itself. And yet she is not an immortal. She is not, as I am, endowed by Nature with the gift of unfading youth. Several years have passed since hers has been faded. I might say, without vanity, that in her best days she was never so handsome as I. But what is she now? Ulysses.You have told me yourself, in a former conversation, when I inquired of you about her, that she is faithful to my bed, and as fond of me now, after twenty years' absence, as at the time when I left her to go to Troy. I left her in the bloom of youth and beauty. How much must her constancy have been tried since that time! How meritorious is her fidelity! Shall I reward her with falsehood? Shall I forget my Penelope, who can't forget me, who has no pleasure so dear to her as my remembrance? Circe.Her love is preserved by the continual hope of your speedy return. Take that hope from her. Let your companions return, and let her know that you have fixed your abode with me, that you have fixed it for ever. Let her know that she is free to dispose as she pleases of her heart and her hand. Send my picture to her, bid her compare it with her own face. If all this does not cure her of the remains of her passion, if you don't hear of her marrying Eurymachus in a twelvemonth, I understand nothing of womankind. Ulysses.O cruel goddess! why will you force me to tell you truths I desire to conceal? If by such unmerited, such barbarous usage I could lose her heart it would break mine. How should I be able to endure the torment of thinking that I had wronged such a wife? What could make me amends for her being no longer mine, for her being another's? Don't frown, Circe, I must ownsince you will have me speakI must own you could not. With all your pride of immortal beauty, with all your magical charms to assist those of Nature, you are not so powerful a charmer as she. You feel desire, and you give it, but you have never felt love, nor can you inspire it. How can I love one who would have degraded me into a beast? Penelope raised me into a hero. Her love ennobled, invigorated, exalted my mind. She bid me go to the siege of Troy, though the parting with me was worse than death to herself. She bid me expose myself there to all the perils of war among the foremost heroes of Greece, though her poor heart sunk and trembled at every thought of those perils, and would have given all its own blood to save a drop of mine. Then there was such a conformity in all our inclinations! When Minerva was teaching me the lessons of wisdom she delighted to be present. She heard, she retained, she gave them back to me softened and sweetened with the peculiar graces of her own mind. When we unbent our thoughts with the charms of poetry, when we read together the poems of Orpheus, Musaeus, and Linus, with what taste did she discern every excellence in them! My feelings were dull compared to hers. She seemed herself to be the muse who had inspired those verses, and had tuned their lyres to infuse into the hearts of mankind the love of wisdom and virtue and the fear of the gods. How beneficent was she, how tender to my people! What care did she take to instruct them in all the finer arts, to relieve the necessities of the sick and aged, to superintend the education of children, to do my subjects every good office of kind intercession, to lay before me their wants, to mediate for those who were objects of mercy, to sue for those who deserved the favours of the Crown. And shall I banish myself for ever from such a consort? Shall I give up her society for the brutal joys of a sensual life, keeping indeed the exterior form of a man, but having lost the human soul, or at least all its noble and godlike powers? Oh, Circe, it is impossible, I can't bear the thought. Circe.Begone; don't imagine that I ask you to stay a moment longer. The daughter of the sun is not so meanspirited as to solicit a mortal to share her happiness with her. It is a happiness which I find you cannot enjoy. I pity and despise you. All you have said seems to me a jargon of sentiments fitter for a silly woman than a great man. Go read, and spin too, if you please, with your wife. I forbid you to remain another day in my island. You shall have a fair wind to carry you from it. After that may every storm that Neptune can raise pursue and overwhelm you. Begone, I say, quit my sight. Ulysses.Great goddess, I obey, but remember your oath. DIALOGUE VI. MERCURYAN ENGLISH DUELLISTA NORTH AMERICAN SAVAGE. The Duellist.Mercury, Charon's boat is on the other side of the water. Allow me, before it returns, to have some conversation with the North American savage whom you brought hither with me. I never before saw one of that species. He looks very grim. Pray, sir, what is your name? I understand you speak English. Savage.Yes, I learnt it in my childhood, having been bred for some years among the English of New York. But before I was a man I returned to my valiant countrymen, the Mohawks; and having been villainously cheated by one of yours in the sale of some rum, I never cared to have anything to do with them afterwards. Yet I took up the hatchet for them with the rest of my tribe in the late war against France, and was killed while I was out upon a scalping party. But I died very well satisfied, for my brethren were victorious, and before I was shot I had gloriously scalped seven men and five women and children. In a former war I had performed still greater exploits. My name is the Bloody Bear; it was given me to express my fierceness and valour. Duellist.Bloody Bear, I respect you, and am much your humble servant. My name is Tom Pushwell, very well known at Arthur's. I am a gentleman by my birth, and by profession a gamester and man of honour. I have killed men in fair fighting, in honourable single combat, but don't understand cutting the throats of women and children. Savage.Sir, that is our way of making war. Every nation has its customs. But, by the grimness of your countenance, and that hole in your breast, I presume you were killed, as I was, in some scalping party. How happened it that your enemy did not take off your scalp? Duellist.Sir, I was killed in a duel. A friend of mine had lent me a sum of money. After two or three years, being in great want himself, he asked me to pay him. I thought his demand, which was somewhat peremptory, an affront to my honour, and sent him a challenge. We met in Hyde Park. The fellow could not fence: I was absolutely the adroitest swordsman in England, so I gave him three or four wounds; but at last he ran upon me with such impetuosity, that he put me out of my play, and I could not prevent him from whipping me through the lungs. I died the next day, as a man of honour should, without any snivelling signs of contrition or repentance; and he will follow me soon, for his surgeon has declared his wounds to be mortal. It is said that his wife is dead of grief, and that his family of seven children will be undone by his death. So I am well revenged, and that is a comfort. For my part, I had no wife. I always hated marriage. Savage.Mercury, I won't go in a boat with that fellow. He has murdered his countrymanhe has murdered his friend: I say, positively, I won't go in a boat with that fellow. I will swim over the River, I can swim like a duck. Mercury.Swim over the Styx! it must not be done; it is against the laws of Pluto's Empire. You must go in the boat, and be quiet. Savage.Don't tell me of laws, I am a savage. I value no laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman. There are laws in his country, and yet you see he did not regard them, for they could never allow him to kill his fellowsubject, in time of peace, because he asked him to pay a debt. I know indeed, that the English are a barbarous nation, but they can't possibly be so brutal as to make such things lawful. Mercury.You reason well against him. But how comes it that you are so offended with murder; you, who have frequently massacred women in their sleep, and children in the cradle? Savage.I killed none but my enemies. I never killed my own countrymen. I never killed my friend. Here, take my blanket, and let it come over in the boat, but see that the murderer does not sit upon it, or touch it. If he does, I will burn it instantly in the fire I see yonder. Farewell! I am determined to swim over the water. Mercury.By this touch of my wand I deprive thee of all thy strength. Swim now if thou canst. Savage.This is a potent enchanter. Restore me my strength, and I promise to obey thee. Mercury.I restore it: but be orderly, and do as I bid you; otherwise worse will befall you. Duellist.Mercury, leave him to me. I'll tutor him for you. Sirrah, savage, dost thou pretend to be ashamed of my company? Dost thou know I have kept the best company in England? Savage.I know thou art a scoundrel! Not pay thy debts! kill thy friend who lent thee money for asking thee for it! Get out of my sight! I will drive thee into Styx! Mercury.Stop! I command thee. No violence! Talk to him calmly. Savage.I must obey thee. Well, sir, let me know what merit you had to introduce you into good company? What could you do? Duellist.Sir, I gamed, as I told you. Besides, I kept a good table. I eat as well as any man either in England or France. Savage.Eat! Did you ever eat the liver of a Frenchman, or his leg, or his shoulder! There is fine eating! I have eat twenty. My table was always well served. My wife was esteemed the best cook for the dressing of man's flesh in all North America. You will not pretend to compare your eating with mine? Duellist.I danced very finely. Savage.I'll dance with thee for thy ears: I can dance all day long. I can dance the wardance with more spirit than any man of my nation. Let us see thee begin it. How thou standest like a post! Has Mercury struck thee with his enfeebling rod? or art thou ashamed to let us see how awkward thou art? If he would permit me, I would teach thee to dance in a way that thou hast never yet learnt. But what else canst thou do, thou bragging rascal? Duellist.O heavens! must I bear this? What can I do with this fellow? I have neither sword nor pistol. And his shade seems to be twice as strong as mine. Mercury.You must answer his questions. It was your own desire to have a conversation with him. He is not well bred; but he will tell you some truths which you must necessarily hear, when you come before Rhadamanthus. He asked you what you could do besides eating and dancing. Duellist.I sang very agreeably. Savage.Let me hear you sing your \"Death Song\" or the \"War Whoop.\" I challenge you to sing. Come, begin. The fellow is mute. Mercury, this is a liar; he has told us nothing but lies. Let me pull out his tongue. Duellist.The lie given me! and, alas, I dare not resent it. What an indelible disgrace to the family of the Pushwells! This indeed is damnation. Mercury.Here, Charon, take these two savages to your care. How far the barbarism of the Mohawk will excuse his horrid acts I leave Minos to judge. But what can be said for the other, for the Englishman? The custom of duelling? A bad excuse at the best! but here it cannot avail. The spirit that urged him to draw his sword against his friend is not that of honour; it is the spirit of the furies, and to them he must go. Savage.If he is to be punished for his wickedness, turn him over to me; I perfectly understand the art of tormenting. Sirrah, I begin my work with this kick on your breech. Duellist.Oh my honour, my honour, to what infamy art thou fallen! DIALOGUE VII. PLINY THE ELDERPLINY THE YOUNGER. Pliny the Elder.The account that you give me, nephew, of your behaviour amidst the tenors and perils that accompanied the first eruption of Vesuvius does not please me much. There was more of vanity in it than of true magnanimity. Nothing is great that is unnatural and affected. When the earth was shaking beneath you, when the whole heaven was darkened with sulphurous clouds, when all Nature seemed falling into its final destruction, to be reading Livy and making extracts was an absurd affectation. To meet danger with courage is manly, but to be insensible of it is brutal stupidity; and to pretend insensibility where it cannot be supposed is ridiculous falseness. When you afterwards refused to leave your aged mother and save yourself without her, you indeed acted nobly. It was also becoming a Roman to keep up her spirits amidst all the horrors of that tremendous scene by showing yourself undismayed; but the real merit and glory of this part of your behaviour is sunk by the other, which gives an air of ostentation and vanity to the whole. Pliny the Younger.That vulgar minds should consider my attention to my studies in such a conjuncture as unnatural and affected, I should not much wonder; but that you would blame it as such I did not apprehendyou, whom no business could separate from the muses; you, who approached nearer to the fiery storm, and died by the suffocating heat of the vapour. Pliny the Elder.I died in doing my duty. Let me recall to your remembrance all the particulars, and then you shall judge yourself on the difference of your behaviour and mine. I was the Prefect of the Roman fleet, which then lay at Misenum. On the first account I received of the very unusual cloud that appeared in the air I ordered a vessel to carry me out to some distance from the shore that I might the better observe the phenomenon, and endeavour to discover its nature and cause. This I did as a philosopher, and it was a curiosity proper and natural to an inquisitive mind. I offered to take you with me, and surely you should have gone; for Livy might have been read at any other time, and such spectacles are not frequent. When I came out from my house, I found all the inhabitants of Misenum flying to the sea. That I might assist them, and all others who dwelt on the coast, I immediately commanded the whole fleet to put out, and sailed with it all round the Bay of Naples, steering particularly to those parts of the shore where the danger was greatest, and from whence the affrighted people were endeavouring to escape with the most trepidation. Thus I happily preserved some thousands of lives, noting at the same time, with an unshaken composure and freedom of mind, the several phenomena of the eruption. Towards night, as we approached to the foot of Mount Vesuvius, our galleys were covered with ashes, the showers of which grew continually hotter and hotter; then pumice stones and burnt and broken pyrites began to fall on our heads, and we were stopped by the obstacles which the ruins of the volcano had suddenly formed, by falling into the sea and almost filling it up, on that part of the coast. I then commanded my pilot to steer to the villa of my friend Pomponianus, which, you know, was situated in the inmost recess of the bay. The wind was very favourable to carry me thither, but would not allow him to put off from the shore, as he was desirous to have done. We were, therefore, constrained to pass the night in his house. The family watched, and I slept till the heaps of pumice stones, which incessantly fell from the clouds that had by this time been impelled to that side of the bay, rose so high in the area of the apartment I lay in, that if I had stayed any longer I could not have got out; and the earthquakes were so violent as to threaten every moment the fall of the house. We, therefore, thought it more safe to go into the open air, guarding our heads as well as we were able with pillows tied upon them. The wind continuing contrary, and the sea very rough, we all remained on the shore, till the descent of a sulphurous and fiery vapour suddenly oppressed my weak lungs and put an end to my life. In all this I hope that I acted as the duty of my station required, and with true magnanimity. But on this occasion, and in many other parts of your conduct, I must say, my dear nephew, there was a mixture of vanity blended with your virtue which impaired and disgraced it. Without that you would have been one of the worthiest men whom Rome has over produced, for none excelled you in sincere integrity of heart and greatness of sentiments. Why would you lose the substance of glory by seeking the shadow? Your eloquence had, I think, the same fault as your manners; it was generally too affected. You professed to make Cicero your guide and pattern; but when one reads his Panegyric upon Julius Caesar, in his Oration for Marcellus, and yours upon Trajan, the first seems the genuine language of truth and Nature, raised and dignified with all the majesty of the most sublime oratory; the latter appears the harangue of a florid rhetorician, more desirous to shine and to set off his own wit than to extol the great man whose virtues he was praising. Pliny the Younger.I will not question your judgment either of my life or my writings; they might both have been better if I had not been too solicitous to render them perfect. It is, perhaps, some excuse for the affectation of my style that it was the fashion of the age in which I wrote. Even the eloquence of Tacitus, however nervous and sublime, was not unaffected. Mine, indeed, was more diffuse, and the ornaments of it were more tawdry; but his laboured conciseness, the constant glow of his diction, and pointed brilliancy of his sentences, were no less unnatural. One principal cause of this I suppose to have been that, as we despaired of excelling the two great masters of oratory, Cicero and Livy, in their own manner, we took up another, which to many appeared more shining, and gave our compositions a more original air; but it is mortifying to me to say much on this subject. Permit me, therefore, to resume the contemplation of that on which our conversation turned before. What a direful calamity was the eruption of Vesuvius, which you have been describing? Don't you remember the beauty of that fine coast, and of the mountain itself, before it was torn with the violence of those internal fires, that forced their way through its surface. The foot of it was covered with cornfields and rich meadows, interspersed with splendid villas and magnificent towns; the sides of it were clothed with the best vines in Italy. How quick, how unexpected, how terrible was the change! All was at once overwhelmed with ashes, cinders, broken rocks, and fiery torrents, presenting to the eye the most dismal scene of horror and desolation! Pliny the Elder.You paint it very truly. But has it never occurred to your philosophical mind that this change is a striking emblem of that which must happen, by the natural course of things, to every rich, luxurious state? While the inhabitants of it are sunk in voluptuousnesswhile all is smiling around them, and they imagine that no evil, no danger is nighthe latent seeds of destruction are fermenting within; till, breaking out on a sudden, they lay waste all their opulence, all their boasted delights, and leave them a sad monument of the fatal effects of internal tempests and convulsions. DIALOGUE VIII. FERNANDO CORTEZWILLIAM PENN. Cortez.Is it possible, William Penn, that you should seriously compare your glory with mine? The planter of a small colony in North America presume to vie with the conqueror of the great Mexican Empire? Penn.Friend, I pretend to no glorythe Lord preserve me from it. All glory is His; but this I say, that I was His instrument in a more glorious work than that performed by theeincomparably more glorious. Cortez.Dost thou not know, William Penn, that with less than six hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse, and a few small pieces of cannon, I fought and defeated innumerable armies of very brave men; dethroned an emperor who had been raised to the throne by his valour, and excelled all his countrymen in the science of war, as much as they excelled all the rest of the West Indian nations? That I made him my prisoner in his own capital; and, after he had been deposed and slain by his subjects, vanquished and took Guatimozin, his successor, and accomplished my conquest of the whole empire of Mexico, which I loyally annexed to the Spanish Crown? Dost thou not know that, in doing these wonderful acts, I showed as much courage as Alexander the Great, as much prudence as Caesar? That by my policy I ranged under my banners the powerful commonwealth of Tlascala, and brought them to assist me in subduing the Mexicans, though with the loss of their own beloved independence? and that, to consummate my glory, when the Governor of Cuba, Velasquez, would have taken my command from me and sacrificed me to his envy and jealousy, I drew from him all his forces and joined them to my own, showing myself as superior to all other Spaniards as I was to the Indians? Penn.I know very well that thou wast as fierce as a lion and as subtle as a serpent. The devil perhaps may place thee as high in his black list of heroes as Alexander or Caesar. It is not my business to interfere with him in settling thy rank. But hark thee, friend Cortez. What right hadst thou, or had the King of Spain himself, to the Mexican Empire? Answer me that, if thou canst. Cortez.The Pope gave it to my master. Penn.The devil offered to give our Lord all the kingdoms of the earth, and I suppose the Pope, as his vicar, gave thy master this; in return for which he fell down and worshipped him, like an idolater as he was. But suppose the high priest of Mexico had taken it into his head to give Spain to Montezuma, would his grant have been good? Cortez.These are questions of casuistry which it is not the business of a soldier to decide. We leave that to gownsmen. But pray, Mr. Penn, what right had you to the province you settled? Penn.An honest right of fair purchase. We gave the native savages some things they wanted, and they in return gave us lands they did not want. All was amicably agreed on, not a drop of blood shed to stain our acquisition. Cortez.I am afraid there was a little fraud in the purchase. Thy followers, William Penn, are said to think cheating in a quiet and sober way no mortal sin. Penn.The saints are always calumniated by the ungodly. But it was a sight which an angel might contemplate with delight to behold the colony I settled! To see us living with the Indians like innocent lambs, and taming the ferocity of their barbarous manners by the gentleness of ours! To see the whole country, which before was an uncultivated wilderness, rendered as fertile and fair as the garden of God! O Fernando Cortez, Fernando Cortez! didst thou leave the great empire of Mexico in that state? No, thou hadst turned those delightful and populous regions into a deserta desert flooded with blood. Dost thou not remember that most infernal scene when the noble Emperor Guatimozin was stretched out by thy soldiers upon hot burning coals to make him discover into what part of the lake of Mexico he had thrown the royal treasures? Are not his groans ever sounding in the ears of thy conscience? Do not they rend thy hard heart, and strike thee with more horror than the yells of the furies? Cortez.Alas! I was not present when that dire act was done. Had I been there I would have forbidden it. My nature was mild. Penn.Thou wast the captain of that band of robbers who did this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn from thy counsels and conduct enabled them to commit it; and thy skill saved them afterwards from the vengeance that was due to so enormous a crime. The enraged Mexicans would have properly punished them for it, if they had not had thee for their general, thou lieutenant of Satan. Cortez.The saints I find can rail, William Penn. But how do you hope to preserve this admirable colony which you have settled? Your people, you tell me, live like innocent lambs. Are there no wolves in North America to devour those lambs? But if the Americans should continue in perpetual peace with all your successors there, the French will not. Are the inhabitants of Pennsylvania to make war against them with prayers and preaching? If so, that garden of God which you say you have planted will undoubtedly be their prey, and they will take from you your property, your laws, and your religion. Penn.The Lord's will be done. The Lord will defend us against the rage of our enemies if it be His good pleasure. Cortez.Is this the wisdom of a great legislator? I have heard some of your countrymen compare you to Solon. Did Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and leave those laws and that people at the mercy of every invader? The first business of legislature is to provide a military strength that may defend the whole system. If a house is built in a land of robbers, without a gate to shut or a bolt or bar to secure it, what avails it how wellproportioned or how commodious the architecture of it may be? Is it richly furnished within? the more it will tempt the hands of violence and of rapine to seize its wealth. The world, William Penn, is all a land of robbers. Any state or commonwealth erected therein must be well fenced and secured by good military institutions; or, the happier it is in all other respects, the greater will be its danger, the more speedy its destruction. Perhaps the neighbouring English colonies may for a while protect yours; but that precarious security cannot always preserve you. Your plan of government must be changed, or your colony will be lost. What I have said is also applicable to Great Britain itself. If an increase of its wealth be not accompanied with an increase of its force that wealth will become the prey of some of the neighbouring nations, in which the martial spirit is more prevalent than the commercial. And whatever praise may be due to its civil institutions, if they are not guarded by a wise system of military policy, they will be found of no value, being unable to prevent their own dissolution. Penn.These are suggestions of human wisdom. The doctrines I held were inspired; they came from above. Cortez.It is blasphemy to say that any folly could come from the Fountain of Wisdom. Whatever is inconsistent with the great laws of Nature and with the necessary state of human society cannot possibly have been inspired by God. Selfdefence is as necessary to nations as to men. And shall particulars have a right which nations have not? True religion, William Penn, is the perfection of reason; fanaticism is the disgrace, the destruction of reason. Penn.Though what thou sayest should be true, it does not come well from thy mouth. A Papist talk of reason! Go to the Inquisition and tell them of reason and the great laws of Nature. They will broil thee, as thy soldiers broiled the unhappy Guatimozin. Why dost thou turn pale? Is it the name of the Inquisition, or the name of Guatimozin, that troubles and affrights thee? O wretched man! who madest thyself a voluntary instrument to carry into a newdiscovered world that hellish tribunal? Tremble and shake when thou thinkest that every murder the Inquisitors have committed, every torture they have inflicted on the innocent Indians, is originally owing to thee. Thou must answer to God for all their inhumanity, for all their injustice. What wouldst thou give to part with the renown of thy conquests, and to have a conscience as pure and undisturbed as mine? Cortez.I feel the force of thy words; they pierce me like daggers. I can never, never be happy, while I retain any memory of the ills I have caused. Yet I thought I did right. I thought I laboured to advance the glory of God and propagate, in the remotest parts of the earth, His holy religion. He will be merciful to well designing and pious error. Thou also wilt have need of that gracious indulgence, though not, I own, so much as I. Penn.Ask thy heart whether ambition was not thy real motive and zeal the pretence? Cortez.Ask thine whether thy zeal had no worldly views and whether thou didst believe all the nonsense of the sect, at the head of which thou wast pleased to become a legislator.Adieu. Selfexamination requires retirement. DIALOGUE IX. MARCUS PORTIUS CATOMESSALLA CORVINUS. Cato.Oh, Messalla! is it then possible that what some of our countrymen tell me should be true? Is it possible that you could live the courtier of Octavius; that you could accept of employments and honours from him, from the tyrant of your country; you, the brave, the nobleminded, the virtuous Messalla; you, whom I remember, my soninlaw Brutus has frequently extolled as the most promising youth in Rome, tutored by philosophy, trained up in arms, scorning all those soft, effeminate pleasures that reconcile men to an easy and indolent servitude, fit for all the roughest tasks of honour and virtue, fit to live or to die a free man? Messalla.Marcus Cato, I revere both your life and your death; but the last, permit me to tell you, did no good to your country, and the former would have done more if you could have mitigated a little the sternness of your virtue, I will not say of your pride. For my own part, I adhered with constant integrity and unwearied zeal to the Republic, while the Republic existed. I fought for her at Philippi under the only commander, who, if he had conquered, would have conquered for her, not for himself. When he was dead I saw that nothing remained to my country but the choice of a master. I chose the best. Cato.The best! What! a man who had broken all laws, who had violated all trusts, who had led the armies of the Commonwealth against Antony, and then joined with him and that sottish traitor Lepidus, to set up a triumvirate more execrable by far than either of the former; who shed the best blood in Rome by an inhuman proscription, murdered even his own guardian, murdered Cicero, to whose confidence, too improvidently given, he owed all his power? Was this the master you chose? Could you bring your tongue to give him the name of Augustus? Could you stoop to beg consulships and triumphs from him? Oh, shame to virtue! Oh, degeneracy of Rome! To what infamy are her sons, her noblest sons, fallen. The thought of it pains me more than the wound that I died of; it stabs my soul. Messalla.Moderate, Cato, the vehemence of your indignation. There has always been too much passion mixed with your virtue. The enthusiasm you are possessed with is a noble one, but it disturbs your judgment. Hear me with patience, and with the tranquillity that becomes a philosopher. It is true that Octavius had done all you have said; but it is no less true that, in our circumstances, he was the best master Rome could choose. His mind was fitted by nature for empire. His understanding was clear and strong. His passions were cool, and under the absolute command of his reason. His name gave him an authority over the troops and the people which no other Roman could possess in an equal degree. He used that authority to restrain the excesses of both, which it was no longer in the power of the Senate to repress, nor of any other general or magistrate in the state. He restored discipline in our armies, the first means of salvation, without which no legal government could have been formed or supported. He avoided all odious and invidious names. He maintained and respected those which time and long habits had endeared to the Roman people. He permitted a generous liberty of speech. He treated the nobles of Pompey's party as well as those of his father's, if they did not themselves, for factious purposes, keep up the distinction. He formed a plan of government, moderate, decent, respectable, which left the senate its majesty, and some of its power. He restored vigour and spirit to the laws; he made new and good ones for the reformation of manners; he enforced their execution; he governed the empire with lenity, justice, and glory; he humbled the pride of the Parthians; he broke the fierceness of the barbarous nations; he gave to his country, exhausted and languishing with the great loss of blood which she had sustained in the course of so many civil wars, the blessing of peacea blessing which was become so necessary for her, that without it she could enjoy no other. In doing these things I acknowledge he had my assistance. I am prouder of it, and I think I can justify myself more effectually to my country, than if I had died by my own hand at Philippi. Believe me, Cato, it is better to do some good than to project a great deal. A little practical virtue is of more use to society than the most sublime theory, or the best principles of government ill applied. Cato.Yet I must think it was beneath the character of Messalla to join in supporting a government which, though coloured and mitigated, was still a tyranny. Had you not better have gone into a voluntary exile, where you would not have seen the face of the tyrant, and where you might have quietly practised those private virtues which are all that the gods require from good men in certain situations? Messalla.No; I did much more good by continuing at Rome. Had Augustus required of me anything base, anything servile, I would have gone into exile, I would have died, rather than do it. But he respected my virtue, he respected my dignity; he treated me as well as Agrippa, or as Maecenas, with this distinction alone, that he never employed my sword but against foreign nations, or the old enemies of the republic. Cato.It must, I own, have been a pleasure to be employed against Antony, that monster of vice, who plotted the ruin of liberty, and the raising of himself to sovereign power, amidst the riot of bacchanals, and in the embraces of harlots, who, when he had attained to that power, delivered it up to a lascivious queen, and would have made an Egyptian strumpet the mistress of Rome, if the Battle of Actium had not saved us from that last of misfortunes. Messalla.In that battle I had a considerable share. So I had in encouraging the liberal arts and sciences, which Augustus protected. Under his judicious patronage the muses made Rome their capital seat. It would have pleased you to have known Virgil, Horace, Tibullus, Ovid, Livy, and many more, whose names will be illustrious to all generations. Cato.I understand you, Messalla. Your Augustus and you, after the ruin of our liberty, made Rome a Greek city, an academy of fine wits, another Athens under the government of Demetrius Phalareus. I had much rather have seen her under Fabricius and Curius, and her other honest old consuls, who could not read. Messalla.Yet to these writers she will owe as much of her glory as she did to those heroes. I could say more, a great deal more, on the happiness of the mild dominion of Augustus. I might even add, that the vast extent of the empire, the factions of the nobility, and the corruption of the people, which no laws under the ordinary magistrates of the state were able to restrain, seemed necessarily to require some change in the government; that Cato himself, had he remained upon earth, could have done us no good, unless he would have yielded to become our prince. But I see you consider me as a deserter from the republic, and an apologist for a tyrant. I, therefore, leave you to the company of those ancient Romans, for whose society you were always much fitter than for that of your contemporaries. Cato should have lived with Fabricius and Curius, not with Pompey and Caesar. DIALOGUE X. CHRISTINA, Queen Of SwedenChancellor OXENSTIERN. Christina.You seem to avoid me, Oxenstiern; and, now we are met, you don't pay me the reverence that is due to your queen! Have you forgotten that I was your sovereign? Oxenstiern.I am not your subject here, madam; but you have forgotten that you yourself broke that bond, and freed me from my allegiance, many years before you died, by abdicating the crown, against my advice and the inclination of your people. Reverence here is paid only to virtue. Christina.I see you would mortify me if it were in your power for acting against your advice. But my fame does not depend upon your judgment. All Europe admired the greatness of my mind in resigning a crown to dedicate myself entirely to the love of the sciences and the fine arts; things of which you had no taste in barbarous Sweden, the realm of Goths and Vandals. Oxenstiern.There is hardly any mind too great for a crown, but there are many too little. Are you sure, madam, it was magnanimity that caused you to fly from the government of a kingdom which your ancestors, and particularly your heroic father Gustavus, had ruled with so much glory? Christina.Am I sure of it? Yes; and to confirm my own judgment, I have that of many learned men and beaux esprits of all countries, who have celebrated my action as the perfection of heroism. Oxenstiern.Those beaux esprits judged according to their predominant passion. I have heard young ladies express their admiration of Mark Antony for heroically leaving his fleet at the Battle of Actium to follow his mistress. Your passion for literature had the same effect upon you. But why did not you indulge it in a manner more becoming your birth and rank? Why did not you bring the muses to Sweden, instead of deserting that kingdom to seek them in Rome? For a prince to encourage and protect arts and sciences, and more especially to instruct an illiterate people and inspire them with knowledge, politeness, and fine taste is indeed an act of true greatness. Christina.The Swedes were too gross to be refined by any culture which I could have given to their dull, their halffrozen souls. Wit and genius require the influence of a more southern climate. Oxenstiern.The Swedes too gross! No, madam, not even the Russians are too gross to be refined if they had a prince to instruct them. Christina.It was too tedious a work for the vivacity of my temper to polish bears into men. I should have died of the spleen before I had made any proficiency in it. My desire was to shine among those who were qualified to judge of my talents. At Paris, at Rome I had the glory of showing the French and Italian wits that the North could produce one not inferior to them. They beheld me with wonder. The homage I had received in my palace at Stockholm was paid to my dignity. That which I drew from the French and Roman academies was paid to my talents. How much more glorious, how much more delightful to an elegant and rational mind was the latter than the former! Could you once have felt the joy, the transport of my heart, when I saw the greatest authors and all the celebrated artists in the most learned and civilised countries of Europe bringing their works to me and submitting the merit of them to my decisions; when I saw the philosophers, the rhetoricians, the poets making my judgment the standard of their reputation, you would not wonder that I preferred the empire of wit to any other empire. Oxenstiern.O great Gustavus! my everhonoured, my adored master! O greatest of kings, greatest in valour, in virtue, in wisdom, with what indignation must thy soul, enthroned in heaven, have looked down on thy unworthy, thy degenerate daughter! With what shame must thou have seen her rambling about from court to court deprived of her royal dignity, debased into a pedant, a witling, a smatterer in sculpture and painting, reduced to beg or buy flattery from each needy rhetorician or hireling poet! I weep to think on this stain, this dishonourable stain, to thy illustrious blood! And yet, would to God! would to God! this was all the pollution it has suffered! Christina.Darest thou, Oxenstiern, impute any blemish to my honour? Oxenstiern.Madam, the world will scarce respect the frailties of queens when they are on their thrones, much less when they have voluntarily degraded themselves to the level of the vulgar. And if scandalous tongues have unjustly aspersed their fame, the way to clear it is not by an assassination. Christina.Oh! that I were alive again, and restored to my throne, that I might punish the insolence of this hoary traitor! But, see! he leaves me, he turns his back upon me with cool contempt! Alas! do I not deserve this scorn? In spite of myself I must confess that I do. O vanity, how shortlived are the pleasures thou bestowest! I was thy votary. Thou wast the god for whom I changed my religion. For thee I forsook my country and my throne. What compensation have I gained for all these sacrifices so lavishly, so imprudently made? Some puffs of incense from authors who thought their flattery due to the rank I had held, or hoped to advance themselves by my recommendation, or, at best, overrated my passion for literature, and praised me to raise the value of those talents with which they were endowed. But in the esteem of wise men I stand very low, and their esteem alone is the true measure of glory. Nothing, I perceive, can give the mind a lasting joy but the consciousness of having performed our duty in that station which it has pleased the Divine Providence to assign to us. The glory of virtue is solid and eternal. All other will fade away like a thin vapoury cloud, on which the casual glance of some faint beams of light has superficially imprinted their weak and transient colours. DIALOGUE XI. TITUS VESPASIANUSPUBLIUS CORNELIUS SCIPIO AFRICANUS. Titus.No, Scipio, I can't give place to you in this. In other respects I acknowledge myself your inferior, though I was Emperor of Rome and you only her consul. I think your triumph over Carthage more glorious than mine over Judaea. But in that I gained over love I must esteem myself superior to you, though your generosity with regard to the fair Celtiberian, your captive, has been celebrated so highly. Scipio.Fame has been, then, unjust to your merit, for little is said of the continence of Titus, but mine has been the favourite topic of eloquence in every age and country. Titus.It has; and in particular your great historian Livy has poured forth all the ornaments of his admirable rhetoric to embellish and dignify that part of your story. I had a great historian tooCornelius Tacitus; but either from the brevity which he affected in writing, or from the severity of his nature, which never having felt the passion of love, thought the subduing of it too easy a victory to deserve great encomiums, he has bestowed but three lines upon my parting with Berenice, which cost me more pain and greater efforts of mind than the conquest of Jerusalem. Scipio.I wish to hear from yourself the history of that parting, and what could make it so hard and painful to you. Titus.While I served in Palestine under the auspices of my father, Vespasian, I became acquainted with Berenice, sister to King Agrippa, and who was herself a queen in one of those Eastern countries. She was the most beautiful woman in Asia, but she had graces more irresistible still than her beauty. She had all the insinuation and wit of Cleopatra, without her coquetry. I loved her, and was beloved; she loved my person, not my greatness. Her tenderness, her fidelity so inflamed my passion for her that I gave her a promise of marriage. Scipio.What do I hear? A Roman senator promise to marry a queen! Titus.I expected, Scipio, that your ears would be offended with the sound of such a match. But consider that Rome was very different in my time from Rome in yours. The ferocious pride of our ancient republican senators had bent itself to the obsequious complaisance of a court. Berenice made no doubt, and I flattered myself that it would not be inflexible in this point alone. But we thought it necessary to defer the completion of our wishes till the death of my father. On that event the Roman Empire and (what I knew she valued more) my hand became due to her, according to my engagements. Scipio.The Roman Empire due to a Syrian queen! Oh, Rome, how art thou fallen! Accursed be the memory of Octavius Caesar, who by oppressing its liberty so lowered the majesty of the republic, that a brave and virtuous Roman, in whom was vested all the power of that mighty state, could entertain such a thought! But did you find the senate and people so servile, so lost to all sense of their honour and dignity, as to affront the great genius of imperial Rome and the eyes of her tutelary gods, the eyes of Jupiter Capitolinus, with the sight of a queenan Asiatic queenon the throne of the Caesars? Titus.I did not. They judged of it as you, Scipio, judge; they detested, they disdained it. In vain did I urge to some particular friends, who represented to me the sense of the Senate and people, that a Messalina, a Poppaea, were a much greater dishonour to the throne of the Caesars than a virtuous foreign princess. Their prejudices were unconquerable; I saw it would be impossible for me to remove them. But I might have used my authority to silence their murmurs. A liberal donative to the soldiers, by whom I was fondly beloved, would have secured their fidelity, and consequently would have forced the Senate and people to yield to my inclination. Berenice knew this, and with tears implored me not to sacrifice her happiness and my own to an unjust prepossession. Shall I own it to you, Publius? My heart not only pitied her, but acknowledged the truth and solidity of her reasons. Yet so much did I abhor the idea of tyranny, so much respect did I pay to the sentiments of my subjects, that I determined to separate myself from her for ever, rather than force either the laws or the prejudices of Rome to submit to my will. Scipio.Give me thy hand, noble Titus. Thou wast worthy of the empire, and Scipio Africanus honours thy virtue. Titus.My virtue can have no greater reward from the approbation of man. But, O Scipio, think what anguish my heart must have felt when I took that resolution, and when I communicated it to my dear, my unhappy Berenice. You saw the struggle of Masinissa, when you forced him to give up his beloved Sophonisba. Mine was a harder conflict. She had abandoned him to marry the King of Numidia. He knew that her ruling passion was ambition, not love. He could not rationally esteem her when she quitted a husband whom she had ruined, who had lost his crown and his liberty in the cause of her country and for her sake, to give her person to him, the capital foe of that unfortunate husband. He must, in spite of his passion, have thought her a perfidious, a detestable woman. But I esteemed Berenice; she deserved my esteem. I was certain she would not have accepted the empire from any other hand; and had I been a private man she would have raised me to her throne. Yet I had the fortitudeI ought, perhaps, to say the hardness of heartto bid her depart from my sight; depart for ever! What, O Publius, was your conquest over yourself, in giving back to her betrothed lover the Celtiberian captive compared to this? Indeed, that was no conquest. I will not so dishonour the virtue of Scipio as to think he could feel any struggle with himself on that account. A woman engaged to anotherengaged by affection as well as vows, let her have been ever so beautifulcould raise in your heart no sentiments but compassion and friendship. To have violated her would have been an act of brutality, which none but another Tarquin could have committed. To have detained her from her husband would have been cruel. But where love is mutual, where the object beloved suffers more in the separation than you do yourself, to part with her is indeed a struggle. It is the hardest sacrifice a good heart can make to its duty. Scipio.I acknowledge that it is, and yield you the palm. But I will own to you, Titus, I never knew much of the tenderness you describe. Hannibal, Carthage, Rome, the saving of my country, the subduing of its rival, these filled my thoughts, and left no room there for those effeminate passions. I do not blame your sensibility; but when I went to the capitol to talk with Jove, I never consulted him about love affairs. Titus.If my soul had been possessed by ambition alone, I might possibly have been a greater man than I was; but I should not have been more virtuous, nor have gained the title I preferred to that of conqueror of Judaea and Emperor of Rome, in being called the delight of humankind. DIALOGUE XII HENRY DUKE OF GUISEMACHIAVEL. Guise.Avaunt! thou fiend. I abhor thy sight. I look upon thee as the original cause of my death, and of all the calamities brought upon the French nation, in my father's time and my own. Machiavel.I the cause of your death! You surprise me! Guise.Yes. Your pernicious maxims of policy, imported from Florence with Catherine of Medicis, your wicked disciple, produced in France such a government, such dissimulation, such perfidy, such violent, ruthless counsels, as threw that whole kingdom into the utmost confusion, and ended my life, even in the palace of my sovereign, by the swords of assassins. Machiavel.Whoever may have a right to complain of my policy, you, sir, have not. You owed your greatness to it, and your deviating from it was the real cause of your death. If it had not been for the assassination of Admiral Coligni and the massacre of the Huguenots, the strength and power which the conduct of so able a chief would have given to that party, after the death of your father, its most dangerous enemy, would have been fatal to your house; nor could you, even with all the advantage you drew from that great stroke of royal policy, have acquired the authority you afterwards rose to in the kingdom of France; but by pursuing my maxims, by availing yourself of the specious name of religion to serve the secret purposes of your ambition, and by suffering no restraint of fear or conscience, not even the guilt of exciting a civil war, to check the necessary progress of your wellconcerted designs. But on the day of the barricades you most imprudently let the king escape out of Paris, when you might have slain or deposed him. This was directly against the great rule of my politics, not to stop short in rebellion or treason till the work is fully completed. And you were justly censured for it by Pope Sixtus Quintus, a more consummate politician, who said, \"You ought to have known that when a subject draws his sword against his king he should throw away the scabbard.\" You likewise deviated from my counsels, by putting yourself in the power of a sovereign you had so much offended. Why would you, against all the cautions I had given, expose your life in a loyal castle to the mercy of that prince? You trusted to his fear, but fear, insulted and desperate, is often cruel. Impute therefore your death not to any fault in my maxims, but to your own folly in not having sufficiently observed them. Guise.If neither I nor that prince had ever practised your maxims in any part of our conduct, he would have reigned many years with honour and peace, and I should have risen by my courage and talents to as high a pitch of greatness as it consisted with the duty of a subject to desire. But your instructions led us on into those crooked paths, out of which there was no retreat without great danger, nor a possibility of advancing without being detested by all mankind, and whoever is so has everything to fear from that detestation. I will give you a proof of this in the fate of a prince, who ought to have been your hero instead of Caesar Borgia, because he was incomparably a greater man, and, of all who ever lived, seems to have acted most steadily according to the rules laid down by you; I mean Richard III., King of England. He stopped at no crime that could be profitable to him; he was a dissembler, a hypocrite, a murderer in cool blood. After the death of his brother he gained the crown by cutting off, without pity, all who stood in his way. He trusted no man any further than helped his own purposes and consisted with his own safety. He liberally rewarded all services done him, but would not let the remembrance of them atone for offences or save any man from destruction who obstructed his views. Nevertheless, though his nature shrunk from no wickedness which could serve his ambition, he possessed and exercised all those virtues which you recommend to the practice of your prince. He was bold and prudent in war, just and strict in the general administration of his government, and particularly careful, by a vigorous execution of the laws, to protect the people against injuries or oppressions from the great. In all his actions and words there constantly appeared the highest concern for the honour of the nation. He was neither greedy of wealth that belonged to other men nor profuse of his own, but knew how to give and where to save. He professed a most edifying sense of religion, pretended great zeal for the reformation of manners, and was really an example of sobriety, chastity, and temperance in the whole course of his life. Nor did he shed any blood, but of those who were such obstacles in his way to dominion as could not possibly be removed by any other means. This was a prince after your heart, yet mark his end. The horror his crimes had excited in the minds of his subjects, and the detestation it produced, were so pernicious to him, that they enabled an exile, who had no right to the crown, and whose abilities were much inferior to his, to invade his realm and destroy him. Machiavel.This example, I own, may seem to be of some weight against the truth of my system. But at the same time it demonstrates that there was nothing so new in the doctrines I published as to make it reasonable to charge me with the disorders and mischiefs which, since my time, any kingdom may have happened to suffer from the ambition of a subject or the tyranny of a prince. Human nature wants no teaching to render it wicked. In courts more especially there has been, from the first institution of monarchies, a policy practised, not less repugnant than mine to the narrow and vulgar laws of humanity and religion. Why should I be singled out as worse than other statesmen? Guise.There have been, it must be owned, in all ages and all states, many wicked politicians; but thou art the first that ever taught the science of tyranny, reduced it to rules, and instructed his disciples how to acquire and secure it by treachery, perjuries, assassinations, proscriptions, and with a particular caution, not to be stopped in the progress of their crimes by any check of the conscience or feeling of the heart, but to push them as far as they shall judge to be necessary to their greatness and safety. It is this which has given thee a preeminence in guilt over all other statesmen. Machiavel.If you had read my book with candour you would have perceived that I did not desire to render men either tyrants or rebels, but only showed, if they were so, what conduct, in such circumstances, it would be rational and expedient for them to observe. Guise.When you were a minister of state in Florence, if any chemist or physician had published a treatise, to instruct his countrymen in the art of poisoning, and how to do it with the most certain destruction to others and security to themselves, would you have allowed him to plead in his justification that he did not desire men to poison their neighbours? But, if they would use such evil means of mending their fortunes, there could surely be no harm in letting them know what were the most effectual poisons, and by what methods they might give them without being discovered. Would you have thought it a sufficient apology for him that he had dropped in his preface, or here and there in his book, a sober exhortation against the committing of murder? Without all doubt, as a magistrate concerned for the safety of the people of Florence, you would have punished the wretch with the utmost severity, and taken great care to destroy every copy of so pernicious a book. Yet your own admired work contains a more baneful and more infernal art. It poisons states and kingdoms, and spreads its malignity, like a general pestilence, over the whole world. Machiavel.You must acknowledge at least that my discourses on Livy are full of wise and virtuous maxims and precepts of government. Guise.This, I think, rather aggravates than alleviates your guilt. How could you study and comment upon Livy with so acute and profound an understanding, and afterwards write a book so absolutely repugnant to all the lessons of policy taught by that sage and moral historian? How could you, who had seen the picture of virtue so amiably drawn by his hand, and who seemed yourself to be sensible of all its charms, fall in love with a fury, and set up her dreadful image as an object of worship to princes? Machiavel.I was seduced by vanity. My heart was formed to love virtue. But I wanted to be thought a greater genius in politics than Aristotle or Plato. Vanity, sir, is a passion as strong in authors as ambition in princes, or rather it is the same passion exerting itself differently. I was a Duke of Guise in the republic of letters. Guise.The bad influences of your guilt have reached further than mine, and been more lasting. But, Heaven be praised, your credit is at present much declining in Europe. I have been told by some shades who are lately arrived here, that the ablest statesman of his time, a king, with whose fame the world is filled, has answered your book, and confuted all the principles of it, with a noble scorn and abhorrence. I am also assured, that in England there is a great and good king, whose whole life has been a continued opposition to your evil system; who has hated all cruelty, all fraud, all falseness; whose word has been sacred, whose honour inviolate; who has made the laws of his kingdom the rules of his government, and good faith and a regard for the liberty of mankind the principles of his conduct with respect to foreign powers; who reigns more absolutely now in the hearts of his people, and does greater things by the confidence they place in him, and by the efforts they make from the generous zeal of affection, than any monarch ever did, or ever will do, by all the arts of iniquity which you recommended. DIALOGUE XIII. VIRGILHORACEMERCURYSCALIGER THE ELDER. Virgil.My dear Horace, your company is my greatest delight, even in the Elysian Fields. No wonder it was so when we lived together in Rome. Never had man so genteel, so agreeable, so easy a wit, or a temper so pliant to the inclinations of others in the intercourse of society. And then such integrity, such fidelity, such generosity in your nature! A soul so free from all envy, so benevolent, so sincere, so placable in its anger, so warm and constant in its affections! You were as necessary to Maecenas as he to Augustus. Your conversation sweetened to him all the cares of his ministry; your gaiety cheered his drooping spirits; and your counsels assisted him when he wanted advice. For you were capable, my dear Horace, of counselling statesmen. Your sagacity, your discretion, your secrecy, your clear judgment in all affairs, recommended you to the confidence, not of Maecenas alone, but of Augustus himself; which you nobly made use of to serve your old friends of the republican party, and to confirm both the minister and the prince in their love of mild and moderate measures, yet with a severe restraint of licentiousness, the most dangerous enemy to the whole commonwealth under any form of government. Horace.To be so praised by Virgil would have put me in Elysium while I was alive. But I know your modesty will not suffer me, in return for these encomiums, to speak of your character. Supposing it as perfect as your poems, you would think, as you did of them, that it wanted correction. Virgil.Don't talk of my modesty. How much greater was yours, when you disclaimed the name of a poet, you whose odes are so noble, so harmonious, so sublime! Horace.I felt myself too inferior to the dignity of that name. Virgil.I think you did like Augustus, when he refused to accept the title of king, but kept all the power with which it was ever attended. Even in your Epistles and Satires, where the poet was concealed, as much as he could be, you may properly be compared to a prince in disguise, or in his hours of familiarity with his intimate friends: the pomp and majesty were let drop, but the greatness remained. Horace.Well, I will not contradict you; and, to say the truth, I should do it with no very good grace, because in some of my Odes I have not spoken so modestly of my own poetry as in my Epistles. But to make you know your preeminence over me and all writers of Latin verse, I will carry you to Quintilian, the best of all Roman critics, who will tell you in what rank you ought to be placed. Virgil.I fear his judgment of me was biassed by your commendation. But who is this shade that Mercury is conducting? I never saw one that stalked with so much pride, or had such ridiculous arrogance expressed in his looks! Horace.They come towards us. Hail, Mercury! What is this stranger with you? Mercury.His name is Julius Caesar Scaliger, and he is by profession a critic. Horace.Julius Caesar Scaliger! He was, I presume, a dictator in criticism. Mercury.Yes, and he has exercised his sovereign power over you. Horace.I will not presume to oppose it. I had enough of following Brutus at Philippi. Mercury.Talk to him a little. He'll amuse you. I brought him to you on purpose. Horace.Virgil, do you accost him. I can't do it with proper gravity. I shall laugh in his face. Virgil.Sir, may I ask for what reason you cast your eyes so superciliously upon Horace and me? I don't remember that Augustus ever looked down upon us with such an air of superiority when we were his subjects. Scaliger.He was only a sovereign over your bodies, and owed his power to violence and usurpation. But I have from Nature an absolute dominion over the wit of all authors, who are subjected to me as the greatest of critics or hypercritics. Virgil.Your jurisdiction, great sir, is very extensive. And what judgments have you been pleased to pass upon us? Scaliger.Is it possible you should be ignorant of my decrees? I have placed you, Virgil, above Homer, whom I have shown to be Virgil.Hold, sir. No blasphemy against my master. Horace.But what have you said of me? Scaliger.I have said that I had rather have written the little dialogue between you and Lydia than have been made king of Arragon. Horace.If we were in the other world you should give me the kingdom, and take both the ode and the lady in return. But did you always pronounce so favourably for us? Scaliger.Send for my works and read them. Mercury will bring them to you with the first learned ghost that arrives here from Europe. There is instruction for you in them. I tell you of your faults. But it was my whim to commend that little ode, and I never do things by halves. When I give praise, I give it liberally, to show my royal bounty. But I generally blame, to exert all the vigour of my censorian power, and keep my subjects in awe. Horace.You did not confine your sovereignty to poets; you exercised it, no doubt, over all other writers. Scaliger.I was a poet, a philosopher, a statesman, an orator, an historian, a divine without doing the drudgery of any of these, but only censuring those who did, and showing thereby the superiority of my genius over them all. Horace.A short way, indeed, to universal fame! And I suppose you were very peremptory in your decisions? Scaliger.Peremptory! ay. If any man dared to contradict my opinions I called him a dunce, a rascal, a villain, and frightened him out of his wits. Virgil.But what said others to this method of disputation? Scaliger.They generally believed me because of the confidence of my assertions, and thought I could not be so insolent or so angry if I was not absolutely sure of being in the right. Besides, in my controversies, I had a great help from the language in which I wrote. For one can scold and call names with a much better grace in Latin than in French or any tame modern tongue. Horace.Have not I heard that you pretended to derive your descent from the princes of Verona? Scaliger.Pretended! Do you presume to deny it? Horace.Not I, indeed. Genealogy is not my science. If you should claim to descend in a direct line from King Midas I would not dispute it. Virgil.I wonder, Scaliger, that you stooped to so low an ambition. Was it not greater to reign over all Mount Parnassus than over a petty state in Italy? Scaliger.You say well. I was too condescending to the prejudices of vulgar opinion. The ignorant multitude imagine that a prince is a greater man than a critic. Their folly made me desire to claim kindred with the Scalas of Verona. Horace.Pray, Mercury, how do you intend to dispose of this august person? You can't think it proper to let him remain with us. He must be placed with the demigods; he must go to Olympus. Mercury.Be not afraid. He shall not trouble you long. I brought him hither to divert you with the sight of an animal you never had seen, and myself with your surprise. He is the chief of all the modern critics, the most renowned captain of that numerous and dreadful band. Whatever you may think of him, I can seriously assure you that before he went mad he had good parts and great learning. But I will now explain to you the original cause of the absurdities he has uttered. His mind was formed in such a manner that, like some perspective glasses, it either diminished or magnified all objects too much; but, above all others, it magnified the good man to himself. This made him so proud that it turned his brain. Now I have had my sport with him, I think it will be charity to restore him to his senses, or rather to bestow what Nature denied hima sound judgment. Come hither, Scaliger. By this touch of my Caduceus I give thee power to see things as they are, and, among others, thyself. Look, gentlemen, how his countenance is fallen in a moment! Hear what he says. He is talking to himself. Scaliger.Bless me! with what persons have I been discoursing? With Virgil and Horace! How could I venture to open my lips in their presence? Good Mercury, I beseech you let me retire from a company for which I am very unfit. Let me go and hide my head in the deepest shade of that grove which I see in the valley. After I have performed a penance there, I will crawl on my knees to the feet of those illustrious shades, and beg them to see me burn my impertinent books of criticism in the fiery billows of Phlegethon with my own hands. Mercury.They will both receive thee into favour. This mortification of truly knowing thyself is a sufficient atonement for thy former presumption. DIALOGUE XIV. BOILEAUPOPE. Boileau.Mr. Pope, you have done me great honour. I am told that you made me your model in poetry, and walked on Parnassus in the same paths which I had trod. Pope.We both followed Horace, but in our manner of imitation, and in the turn of our natural genius, there was, I believe, much resemblance. We both were too irritable and too easily hurt by offences, even from the lowest of men. The keen edge of our wit was frequently turned against those whom it was more a shame to contend with than an honour to vanquish. Boileau.Yes. But in general we were the champions of good morals, good sense, and good learning. If our love of these was sometimes heated into anger against those who offended them no less than us, is that anger to be blamed? Pope.It would have been nobler if we had not been parties in the quarrel. Our enemies observe that neither our censure nor our praise was always impartial. Boileau.It might perhaps have been better if in some instances we had not praised or blamed so much. But in panegyric and satire moderation is insipid. Pope.Moderation is a cold unpoetical virtue. Mere historical truth is better written in prose. And, therefore, I think you did judiciously when you threw into the fire your history of Louis le Grand, and trusted his fame to your poems. Boileau.When those poems were published that monarch was the idol of the French nation. If you and I had not known, in our occasional compositions, how to speak to the passions, as well as to the sober reason of mankind, we should not have acquired that despotic authority in the empire of wit which made us so formidable to all the inferior tribe of poets in England and France. Besides, sharp satirists want great patrons. Pope.All the praise which my friends received from me was unbought. In this, at least, I may boast a superiority over the pensioned Boileau. Boileau.A pension in France was an honourable distinction. Had you been a Frenchman you would have ambitiously sought it; had I been an Englishman I should have proudly declined it. If our merit in other respects be not unequal, this difference will not set me much below you in the temple of virtue or of fame. Pope.It is not for me to draw a comparison between our works. But, if I may believe the best critics who have talked to me on the subject, my \"Rape of the Lock\" is not inferior to your \"Lutrin;\" and my \"Art of Criticism\" may well be compared with your \"Art of Poetry;\" my \"Ethic Epistles\" are esteemed at least equal to yours; and my \"Satires\" much better. Boileau.Hold, Mr. Pope. If there is really such a sympathy in our natures as you have supposed, there may be reason to fear that, if we go on in this manner comparing our works, we shall not part in good friendship. Pope.No, no; the mild air of the Elysian Fields has mitigated my temper, as I presume it has yours. But, in truth, our reputations are nearly on a level. Our writings are admired, almost equally (as I hear) for energy and justness of thought. We both of us carried the beauty of our diction, and the harmony of our numbers, to the highest perfection that our languages would admit. Our poems were polished to the utmost degree of correctness, yet without losing their fire, or the agreeable appearance of freedom and ease. We borrowed much from the ancients, though you, I believe, more than I; but our imitations (to use an expression of your own) had still an original air. Boileau.I will confess, sir (to show you that the Elysian climate has had its effects upon me), I will fairly confess, without the least ill humour, that in your \"Eloisa to Abelard,\" your \"Verses to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady,\" and some others you wrote in your youth, there is more fire of poetry than in any of mine. You excelled in the pathetic, which I never approached. I will also allow that you hit the manner of Horace and the sly delicacy of his wit more exactly than I, or than any other man who has written since his time. Nor could I, nor did even Lucretius himself, make philosophy so poetical, and embellish it with such charms as you have given to that of Plato, or (to speak more properly) of some of his modern disciples, in your celebrated \"Essay on Man.\" Pope.What do you think of my \"Homer?\" Boileau.Your \"Homer\" is the most spirited, the most poetical, the most elegant, and the most pleasing translation that ever was made of any ancient poem, though not so much in the manner of the original, or so exactly agreeable to the sense in all places, as might perhaps be desired. But when I consider the years you spent in this work, and how many excellent original poems you might, with less difficulty, have produced in that time, I can't but regret that your talents were thus employed. A great poet so tied down to a tedious translation is a Columbus chained to an oar. What new regions of fancy, full of treasures yet untouched, might you have explored, if you had been at liberty to have boldly expanded your sails, and steered your own course, under the conduct and direction of your own genius! But I am still more angry with you for your edition of Shakespeare. The office of an editor was below you, and your mind was unfit for the drudgery it requires. Would anybody think of employing a Raphael to clean an old picture? Pope.The principal cause of my undertaking that task was zeal for the honour of Shakespeare; and, if you knew all his beauties as well as I, you would not wonder at this zeal. No other author had ever so copious, so bold, so creative an imagination, with so perfect a knowledge of the passions, the humours, and sentiments of mankind. He painted all characters, from kings down to peasants, with equal truth and equal force. If human nature were destroyed, and no monument were left of it except his works, other beings might know what man was from those writings. Boileau.You say he painted all characters, from kings down to peasants, with equal truth and equal force. I can't deny that he did so; but I wish he had not jumbled those characters together in the composition of his pictures as he has frequently done. Pope.The strange mixture of tragedy, comedy, and farce in the same play, nay, sometimes in the same scene, I acknowledge to be quite inexcusable. But this was the taste of the times when Shakespeare wrote. Boileau.A great genius ought to guide, not servilely follow, the taste of his contemporaries. Pope.Consider from how thick a darkness of barbarism the genius of Shakespeare broke forth! What were the English, and what, let me ask you, were the French dramatic performances, in the age when he nourished? The advances he made towards the highest perfection, both of tragedy and comedy, are amazing! In the principal points, in the power of exciting terror and pity, or raising laughter in an audience, none yet has excelled him, and very few have equalled. Boileau.Do you think that he was equal in comedy to Moliere? Pope.In comic force I do; but in the fine and delicate strokes of satire, and what is called genteel comedy, he was greatly inferior to that admirable writer. There is nothing in him to compare with the Misanthrope, the Ecole des Femmes, or Tartuffe. Boileau.This, Mr. Pope, is a great deal for an Englishman to acknowledge. A veneration for Shakespeare seems to be a part of your national religion, and the only part in which even your men of sense are fanatics. Pope.He who can read Shakespeare, and be cool enough for all the accuracy of sober criticism, has more of reason than taste. Boileau.I join with you in admiring him as a prodigy of genius, though I find the most shocking absurdities in his playsabsurdities which no critic of my nation can pardon. Pope.We will be satisfied with your feeling the excellence of his beauties. But you would admire him still more if you could see the chief characters in all his test tragedies represented by an actor who appeared on the stage a little before I left the world. He has shown the English nation more excellencies in Shakespeare than the quickest wits could discern, and has imprinted them on the heart with a livelier feeling than the most sensible natures had ever experienced without his help. Boileau.The variety, spirit, and force of Mr. Garrick's action have been much praised to me by many of his countrymen, whose shades I converse with, and who agree in speaking of him as we do of Baron, our most natural and most admired actor. I have also heard of another, who has now quitted the stage, but who had filled, with great dignity, force, and elevation, some tragic parts, and excelled so much in the comic, that none ever has deserved a higher applause. Pope.Mr. Quin was, indeed, a most perfect comedian. In the part of Falstaff particularly, wherein the utmost force of Shakespeare's humour appears, he attained to such perfection that he was not an actor; he was the man described by Shakespeare; he was Falstaff himself! When I saw him do it the pleasantry of the fat knight appeared to me so bewitching, all his vices were so mirthful, that I could not much wonder at his having seduced a young prince even to rob in his company. Boileau.That character is not well understood by the French; they suppose it belongs, not to comedy, but to farce, whereas the English see in it the finest and highest strokes of wit and humour. Perhaps these different judgments may be accounted for in some measure by the diversity of manners in different countries. But don't you allow, Mr. Pope, that our writers, both of tragedy and comedy, are, upon the whole, more perfect masters of their art than yours? If you deny it, I will appeal to the Athenians, the only judges qualified to decide the dispute. I will refer it to Euripides, Sophocles, and Menander. Pope.I am afraid of those judges, for I see them continually walking handinhand, and engaged in the most friendly conversation with Corneille, Racine, and Moliere. Our dramatic writers seem, in general, not so fond of their company; they sometimes shove rudely by them, and give themselves airs of superiority. They slight their reprimands, and laugh at their preceptsin short, they will be tried by their country alone; and that judicature is partial. Boileau.I will press this question no further. But let me ask you to which of our rival tragedians, Racine and Corneille, do you give the preference? Pope.The sublimest plays of Corneille are, in my judgment, equalled by the Athalia of Racine, and the tender passions are certainly touched by that elegant and most pathetic writer with a much finer hand. I need not add that he is infinitely more correct than Corneille, and more harmonious and noble in his versification. Corneille formed himself entirely upon Lucan, but the master of Racine was Virgil. How much better a taste had the former than the latter in choosing his model! Boileau.My friendship with Racine, and my partiality for his writings, make me hear with great pleasure the preference given to him above Corneille by so judicious a critic. Pope.That he excelled his competitor in the particulars I have mentioned, can't, I think, be denied. But yet the spirit and the majesty of ancient Rome were never so well expressed as by Corneille. Nor has any other French dramatic writer, in the general character of his works, shown such a masculine strength and greatness of thought. Racine is the swan described by ancient poets, which rises to the clouds on downy wings and sings a sweet but a gentle and plaintive note. Corneille is the eagle, which soars to the skies on bold and sounding pinions, and fears not to perch on the sceptre of Jupiter, or to bear in his pounces the lightning of the god. Boileau.I am glad to find, Mr. Pope, that in praising Corneille you run into poetry, which is not the language of sober criticism, though sometimes used by Longinus. Pope.I caught the fire from the idea of Corneille. Boileau.He has bright flashes, yet I think that in his thunder there is often more noise than fire. Don't you find him too declamatory, too turgid, too unnatural, even in his best tragedies? Pope.I own I do; yet the greatness and elevation of his sentiments, and the nervous vigour of his sense, atone, in my opinion, for all his faults. But let me now, in my turn, desire your opinion of our epic poet, Milton. Boileau.Longinus perhaps would prefer him to all other writers, for he surpasses even Homer in the sublime; but other critics who require variety, and agreeableness, and a correct regularity of thought and judgment in an epic poem, who can endure no absurdities, no extravagant fictions, would place him far below Virgil. Pope.His genius was indeed so vast and sublime, that his poem seems beyond the limits of criticism, as his subject is beyond the limits of nature. The bright and excessive blaze of poetical fire, which shines in so many parts of the \"Paradise Lost,\" will hardly permit the dazzled eye to see its faults. Boileau.The taste of your countrymen is much changed since the days of Charles II., when Dryden was thought a greater poet than Milton! Pope.The politics of Milton at that time brought his poetry into disgrace, for it is a rule with the English, they see no good in a man whose politics they dislike; but, as their notions of government are apt to change, men of parts whom they have slighted become their favourite authors, and others who have possessed their warmest admiration are in their turn undervalued. This revolution of favour was experienced by Dryden as well as Milton; he lived to see his writings, together with his politics, quite out of fashion. But even in the days of his highest prosperity, when the generality of the people admired his Almanzor, and thought his Indian Emperor the perfection of tragedy, the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Rochester, the two wittiest noblemen our country has produced, attacked his fame, and turned the rants of his heroes, the jargon of his spirits, and the absurdity of his plots into just ridicule. Boileau.You have made him good amends by the praise you have given him in some of your writings. Pope.I owed him that praise as my master in the art of versification, yet I subscribe to the censures which have been passed by other writers on many of his works. They are good critics, but he is still a great poet. You, sir, I am sure, must particularly admire him as an excellent satirist; his \"Absalom and Achitophel\" is a masterpiece in that way of writing, and his \"Mac Flecno\" is, I think, inferior to it in nothing but the meanness of the subject. Boileau.Did not you take the model of your \"Dunciad\" from the latter of those very ingenious satires? Pope.I did; but my work is more extensive than his, and my imagination has taken in it a greater scope. Boileau.Some critics may doubt whether the length of your poem was so properly suited to the meanness of the subject as the brevity of his. Three cantos to expose a dunce crowned with laurel! I have not given above three lines to the author of the \"Pucelle.\" Pope.My intention was to expose, not one author alone, but all the dulness and false taste of the English nation in my times. Could such a design be contracted into a narrower compass? Boileau.We will not dispute on this point, nor whether the hero of your \"Dunciad\" was really a dunce. But has not Dryden been accused of immorality and profaneness in some of his writings? Pope.He has, with too much reason: and I am sorry to say that all our best comic writers after Shakespeare and Johnson, except Addison and Steele, are as liable as he to that heavy charge. Fletcher is shocking. Etheridge, Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar have painted the manners of the times in which they wrote with a masterly hand; but they are too often such manners that a virtuous man, and much more a virtuous woman, must be greatly offended at the representation. Boileau.In this respect our stage is far preferable to yours. It is a school of morality. Vice is exposed to contempt and to hatred. No false colours are laid on to conceal its deformity, but those with which it paints itself are there taken off. Pope.It is a wonderful thing that in France the comic Muse should be the gravest lady in the nation. Of late she is so grave, that one might almost mistake her for her sister Melpomene. Moliere made her indeed a good moral philosopher; but then she philosophised, like Democritus, with a merry, laughing face. Now she weeps over vice instead of showing it to mankind, as I think she generally ought to do, in ridiculous lights. Boileau.Her business is more with folly than with vice, and when she attacks the latter, it should be rather with ridicule than invective. But sometimes she may be allowed to raise her voice, and change her usual smile into a frown of just indignation. Pope.I like her best when she smiles. But did you never reprove your witty friend, La Fontaine, for the vicious levity that appears in many of his tales? He was as guilty of the crime of debauching the Muses as any of our comic poets. Boileau.I own he was, and bewail the prostitution of his genius, as I should that of an innocent and beautiful country girl. He was all nature, all simplicity! yet in that simplicity there was a grace, and unaffected vivacity, with a justness of thought and easy elegance of expression that can hardly be found in any other writer. His manner is quite original, and peculiar to himself, though all the matter of his writings is borrowed from others. Pope.In that manner he has been imitated by my friend Mr. Prior. Boileau.He has, very successfully. Some of Prior's tales have the spirit of La Fontaine's with more judgment, but not, I think, with such an amiable and graceful simplicity. Pope.Prior's harp had more strings than La Fontaine's. He was a fine poet in many different ways: La Fontaine but in one. And, though in some of his tales he imitated that author, his \"Alma\" was an original, and of singular beauty. Boileau.There is a writer of heroic poetry, who lived before Milton, and whom some of your countrymen place in the highest class of your poets, though he is little known in France. I see him sometimes in company with Homer and Virgil, but oftener with Tasso, Ariosto, and Dante. Pope.I understand you mean Spenser. There is a force and beauty in some of his images and descriptions, equal to any in those writers you have seen him converse with. But he had not the art of properly shading his pictures. He brings the minute and disagreeable parts too much into sight; and mingles too frequently vulgar and mean ideas with noble and sublime. Had he chosen a subject proper for epic poetry, he seems to have had a sufficient elevation and strength in his genius to make him a great epic poet: but the allegory, which is continued throughout the whole work, fatigues the mind, and cannot interest the heart so much as those poems, the chief actors in which are supposed to have really existed. The Syrens and Circe in the \"Odyssey\" are allegorical persons; but Ulysses, the hero of the poem, was a man renowned in Greece, which makes the account of his adventures affecting and delightful. To be now and then in Fairyland, among imaginary beings, is a pleasing variety, and helps to distinguish the poet from the orator or historian, but to be always there is irksome. Boileau.Is not Spenser likewise blamable for confounding the Christian with the Pagan theology in some parts of his poem? Pope.Yes; he had that fault in common with Dante, with Ariosto, and with Camoens. Boileau.Who is the poet that arrived soon after you in Elysium, whom I saw Spenser lead in and present to Virgil, as the author of a poem resembling the \"Georgics\"? On his head was a garland of the several kinds of flowers that blow in each season, with evergreens intermixed. Pope.Your description points out Thomson. He painted nature exactly, and with great strength of pencil. His imagination was rich, extensive, and sublime: his diction bold and glowing, but sometimes obscure and affected. Nor did he always know when to stop, or what to reject. Boileau.I should suppose that he wrote tragedies upon the Greek model. For he is often admitted into the grove of Euripides. Pope.He enjoys that distinction both as a tragedian and as a moralist. For not only in his plays, but all his other works, there is the purest morality, animated by piety, and rendered more touching by the fine and delicate sentiments of a most tender and benevolent heart. Boileau.St. Evremond has brought me acquainted with Waller. I was surprised to find in his writings a politeness and gallantry which the French suppose to be appropriated only to theirs. His genius was a composition which is seldom to be met with, of the sublime and the agreeable. In his comparison between himself and Apollo, as the lover of Daphne, and in that between Amoret and Sacharissa, there is a finesse and delicacy of wit which the most elegant of our writers have never exceeded. Nor had Sarrazin or Voiture the art of praising more genteelly the ladies they admired. But his epistle to Cromwell, and his poem on the death of that extraordinary man, are written with a force and greatness of manner which give him a rank among the poets of the first class. Pope.Mr. Waller was unquestionably a very fine writer. His Muse was as well qualified as the Graces themselves to dress out a Venus; and he could even adorn the brows of a conqueror with fragrant and beautiful wreaths. But he had some puerile and low thoughts, which unaccountably mixed with the elegant and the noble, like schoolboys or a mob admitted into a palace. There was also an intemperance and a luxuriancy in his wit which he did not enough restrain. He wrote little to the understanding, and less to the heart; but he frequently delights the imagination, and sometimes strikes it with flashes of the highest sublime. We had another poet of the age of Charles I., extremely admired by all his contemporaries, in whose works there is still more affectation of wit, a greater redundancy of imagination, a worse taste, and less judgment; but he touched the heart more, and had finer feelings than Waller. I mean Cowley. Boileau.I have been often solicited to admire his writings by his learned friend, Dr. Spratt. He seems to me a great wit, and a very amiable man, but not a good poet. Pope.The spirit of poetry is strong in some of his odes, but in the art of poetry he is always extremely deficient. Boileau.I hear that of late his reputation is much lowered in the opinion of the English. Yet I cannot but think that, if a moderate portion of the superfluities of his wit were given by Apollo to some of their modern bards, who write commonplace morals in very smooth verse, without any absurdity, but without a single new thought, or one enlivening spark of imagination, it would be a great favour to them, and do them more service than all the rules laid down in my \"Art of Poetry\" and yours of \"Criticism.\" Pope.I am much of your mind. But I left in England some poets whom you, I know, will admire, not only for the harmony and correctness of style, but the spirit and genius you will find in their writings. Boileau.France, too, has produced some very excellent writers since the time of my death. Of one particularly I hear wonders. Fame to him is as kind as if he had been dead a thousand years. She brings his praises to me from all parts of Europe. You know I speak of Voltaire. Pope.I do; the English nation yields to none in admiration of his extensive genius. Other writers excel in some one particular branch of wit or science; but when the King of Prussia drew Voltaire from Paris to Berlin, he had a whole academy of belles lettres in him alone. Boileau.That prince himself has such talents for poetry as no other monarch in any age or country has ever possessed. What an astonishing compass must there be in his mind, what an heroic tranquillity and firmness in his heart, that he can, in the evening, compose an ode or epistle in the most elegant verse, and the next morning fight a battle with the conduct of Caesar or Gustavus Adolphus! Pope.I envy Voltaire so noble a subject both for his verse and his prose. But if that prince will write his own commentaries, he will want no historian. I hope that, in writing them, he will not restrain his pen, as Caesar has done, to a mere account of his wars, but let us see the politician, and the benignant protector of arts and sciences, as well as the warrior, in that picture of himself. Voltaire has shown us that the events of battles and sieges are not the most interesting parts of good history, but that all the improvements and embellishments of human society ought to be carefully and particularly recorded there. Boileau.The progress of arts and knowledge, and the great changes that have happened in the manners of mankind, are objects far more worthy of a leader's attention than the revolutions of fortune. And it is chiefly to Voltaire that we owe this instructive species of history. Pope.He has not only been the father of it among the moderns, but has carried it himself to its utmost perfection. Boileau.Is he not too universal? Can any writer be exact who is so comprehensive? Pope.A traveller round the world cannot inspect every region with such an accurate care as exactly to describe each single part. If the outlines are well marked, and the observations on the principal points are judicious, it is all that can be required. Boileau.I would, however, advise and exhort the French and English youth to take a fuller survey of some particular provinces, and to remember that although, in travels of this sort, a lively imagination is a very agreeable companion, it is not the best guide. To speak without a metaphor, the study of history, both sacred and profane, requires a critical and laborious investigation. The composer of a set of lively and witty remarks on facts illexamined, or incorrectly delivered, is not an historian. Pope.We cannot, I think, deny that name to the author of the \"Life of Charles XII., King of Sweden.\" Boileau.No, certainly. I esteem it the very best history that this age has produced. As full of spirit as the hero whose actions it relates, it is nevertheless most exact in all matters of importance. The style of it is elegant, perspicuous, unaffected; the disposition and method are excellent; the judgments given by the writer acute and just. Pope.Are you not pleased with that philosophical freedom of thought which discovers itself in all the works of Voltaire, but more particularly in those of an historical nature? Boileau.If it were properly regulated, I should reckon it among their highest perfections. Superstition, and bigotry, and party spirit are as great enemies to the truth and candour of history as malice or adulation. To think freely is therefore a most necessary quality in a perfect historian. But all liberty has its bounds, which, in some of his writings, Voltaire, I fear, has not observed. Would to Heaven he would reflect, while it is yet in his power to correct what is faulty, that all his works will outlive him; that many nations will read them; and that the judgment pronounced here upon the writer himself will be according to the scope and tendency of them, and to the extent of their good or evil effects on the great society of mankind. Pope.It would be well for all Europe if some other wits of your country, who give the tone to this age in all polite literature, had the same serious thoughts you recommend to Voltaire. Witty writings, when directed to serve the good ends of virtue and religion, are like the lights hung out in a pharos, to guide the mariners safe through dangerous seas; but the brightness of those that are impious or immoral shines only to betray and lead men to destruction. Boileau.Has England been free from all seductions of this nature? Pope.No. But the French have the art of rendering vice and impiety more agreeable than the English. Boileau.I am not very proud of this superiority in the talents of my countrymen. But as I am told that the good sense of the English is now admired in France, I hope it will soon convince both nations that true wisdom is virtue, and true virtue is religion. Pope.I think it also to be wished that a taste for the frivolous may not continue too prevalent among the French. There is a great difference between gathering flowers at the foot of Parnassus and ascending the arduous heights of the mountain. The palms and laurels grow there, and if any of your countrymen aspire to gain them, they must no longer enervate all the vigour of their minds by this habit of trifling. I would have them be perpetual competitors with the English in manly wit and substantial learning. But let the competition be friendly. There is nothing which so contracts and debases the mind as national envy. True wit, like true virtue, naturally loves its own image in whatever place it is found. DIALOGUE XV. OCTAVIAPORTIAARRIA. Portia.How has it happened, Octavia, that Arria and I, who have a higher rank than you in the Temple of Fame, should have a lower here in Elysium? We are told that the virtues you exerted as a wife were greater than ours. Be so good as to explain to us what were those virtues. It is the privilege of this place that one can bear superiority without mortification. The jealousy of precedence died with the rest of our mortal frailties. Tell us, then, your own story. We will sit down under the shade of this myrtle grove and listen to it with pleasure. Octavia.Noble ladies, the glory of our sex and of Rome, I will not refuse to comply with your desire, though it recalls to my mind some scenes my heart would wish to forget. There can be only one reason why Minos should have given to my conjugal virtues a preference above yours, which is that the trial assigned to them was harder. Arria.How, madam! harder than to die for your husband! We died for ours. Octavia.You did for husbands who loved yon, and were the most virtuous men of the ages they lived inwho trusted you with their lives, their fame, their honour. To outlive such husbands is, in my judgment, a harder effort of virtue than to die for them or with them. But Mark Antony, to whom my brother Octavius, for reasons of state, gave my hand, was indifferent to me, and loved another. Yet he has told me himself I was handsomer than his mistress Cleopatra. Younger I certainly was, and to men that is generally a charm sufficient to turn the scale in one's favour. I had been loved by Marcellus. Antony said he loved me when he pledged to me his faith. Perhaps he did for a time; a new handsome woman might, from his natural inconstancy, make him forget an old attachment. He was but too amiable. His very vices had charms beyond other men's virtues. Such vivacity! such fire! such a towering pride! He seemed made by nature to command, to govern the world; to govern it with such ease that the business of it did not rob him of an hour of pleasure. Nevertheless, while his inclination for me continued, this haughty lord of mankind who could hardly bring his high spirit to treat my brother, his partner in empire, with the necessary respect, was to me as submissive, as obedient to every wish of my heart, as the humblest lover that ever sighed in the vales of Arcadia. Thus he seduced my affection from the manes of Marcellus and fixed it on himself. He fixed it, ladies (I own it with some confusion), more fondly than it had ever been fixed on Marcellus. And when he had done so he scorned me, he forsook me, he returned to Cleopatra. Think who I wasthe sister of Caesar, sacrificed to a vile Egyptian queen, the harlot of Julius, the disgrace of her sex! Every outrage was added that could incense me still more. He gave her at sundry times, as public marks of his love, many provinces of the Empire of Rome in the East. He read her loveletters openly in his tribunal itselfeven while he was hearing and judging the causes of kings. Nay, he left his tribunal, and one of the best Roman orators pleading before him, to follow her litter, in which she happened to be passing by at that time. But, what was more grievous to me than all these demonstrations of his extravagant passion for that infamous woman, he had the assurance, in a letter to my brother, to call her his wife. Which of you, ladies, could have patiently borne this treatment? Arria.Not I, madam, in truth. Had I been in your place, the dagger with which I pierced my own bosom to show my dear Paetus how easy it was to die, that dagger should I have plunged into Antony's heart, if piety to the gods and a due respect to the purity of my own soul had not stopped my hand. But I verily believe I should have killed myself; not, as I did, out of affection to my husband, but out of shame and indignation at the wrongs I endured. Portia.I must own, Octavia, that to bear such usage was harder to a woman than to swallow fire. Octavia.Yet I did bear it, madam, without even a complaint which could hurt or offend my husband. Nay, more, at his return from his Parthian expedition, which his impatience to bear a long absence from Cleopatra had made unfortunate and inglorious, I went to meet him in Syria, and carried with me rich presents of clothes and money for his troops, a great number of horses, and two thousand chosen soldiers, equipped and armed like my brother's Praetorian bands. He sent to stop me at Athens because his mistress was then with him. I obeyed his orders; but I wrote to him, by one of his most faithful friends, a letter full of resignation, and such a tenderness for him as I imagined might have power to touch his heart. My envoy served me so well, he set my fidelity in so fair a light, and gave such reasons to Antony why he ought to see and receive me with kindness, that Cleopatra was alarmed. All her arts were employed to prevent him from seeing me, and to draw him again into Egypt. Those arts prevailed. He sent me back into Italy, and gave himself up more absolutely than ever to the witchcraft of that Circe. He added Africa to the States he had bestowed on her before, and declared Caesario, her spurious son by Julius Caesar, heir to all her dominions, except Phoenicia and Cilicia, which with the Upper Syria he gave to Ptolemy, his second son by her; and at the same time declared his eldest son by her, whom he had espoused to the Princess of Media, heir to that kingdom and King of Armenia; nay, and of the whole Parthian Empire which he meant to conquer for him. The children I had brought him he entirely neglected as if they had been bastards. I wept. I lamented the wretched captivity he was in; but I never reproached him. My brother, exasperated at so many indignities, commanded me to quit the house of my husband at Rome and come into his. I refused to obey him. I remained in Antony's house; I persisted to take care of his children by Fulvia, the same tender care as of my own. I gave my protection to all his friends at Rome. I implored my brother not to make my jealousy or my wrongs the cause of a civil war. But the injuries done to Rome by Antony's conduct could not possibly be forgiven. When he found he should draw the Roman arms on himself, he sent orders to me to leave his house. I did so, but carried with me all his children by Fulvia, except Antyllus, the eldest, who was then with him in Egypt. After his death and Cleopatra's, I took her children by him, and bred them up with my own. Arria.Is it possible, madam? the children of Cleopatra? Octavia.Yes, the children of my rival. I married her daughter to Juba, King of Mauritania, the most accomplished and the handsomest prince in the world. Arria.Tell me, Octavia, did not your pride and resentment entirely cure you of your passion for Antony, as soon as you saw him go back to Cleopatra? And was not your whole conduct afterwards the effect of cool reason, undisturbed by the agitations of jealous and tortured love? Octavia.You probe my heart very deeply. That I had some help from resentment and the natural pride of my sex, I will not deny. But I was not become indifferent to my husband. I loved the Antony who had been my lover, more than I was angry with the Antony who forsook me and loved another woman. Had he left Cleopatra and returned to me again with all his former affection, I really believe I should have loved him as well as before. Arria.If the merit of a wife is to be measured by her sufferings, your heart was unquestionably the most perfect model of conjugal virtue. The wound I gave mine was but a scratch in comparison to many you felt. Yet I don't know whether it would be any benefit to the world that there should be in it many Octavias. Too good subjects are apt to make bad kings. Portia.True, Arria; the wives of Brutus and Cecinna Paetus may be allowed to have spirits a little rebellious. Octavia was educated in the Court of her brother. Subjection and patience were much better taught there than in our houses, where the Roman liberty made its last abode. And though I will not dispute the judgment of Minos, I can't help thinking that the affection of a wife to her husband is more or less respectable in proportion to the character of that husband. If I could have had for Antony the same friendship as I had for Brutus, I should have despised myself. Octavia.My fondness for Antony was illplaced; but my perseverance in the performance of all the duties of a wife, notwithstanding his illusage, a perseverance made more difficult by the very excess of my love, appeared to Minos the highest and most meritorious effort of female resolution against the seductions of the most dangerous enemy to our virtue, offended pride. DIALOGUE XVI. LOUISE DE COLIGNI, PRINCESS OF ORANGEFRANCES WALSINGHAM, COUNTESS OF ESSEX AND OF CLANRICARDE; BEFORE, LADY SIDNEY. Princess of Orange.Our destinies, madam, had a great and surprising conformity. I was the daughter of Admiral Coligni, you of Secretary Walsingham, two persons who were the most consummate statesmen and ablest supports of the Protestant religion in France, and in England. I was married to Teligni, the finest gentleman of our party, the most admired for his valour, his virtue, and his learning: you to Sir Philip Sidney, who enjoyed the same preeminence among the English. Both these husbands were cut off, in the flower of youth and of glory, by violent deaths, and we both married again with still greater men; I with William Prince of Orange, the founder of the Dutch Commonwealth; you with Devereux Earl of Essex, the favourite of Elizabeth and of the whole English nation. But, alas! to complete the resemblance of our fates, we both saw those second husbands, who had raised us so high, destroyed in the full meridian of their glory and greatness: mine by the pistol of an assassin; yours still more unhappily, by the axe, as a traitor. Countess of Clanricarde.There was indeed in some principal events of our lives the conformity you observe. But your destiny, though it raised you higher than me, was more unhappy than mine. For my father lived honourably, and died in peace: yours was assassinated in his old age. How, madam, did you support or recover your spirits under so rainy misfortunes? Princess of Orange.The Prince of Orange left an infant son to my care. The educating of him to be worthy of so illustrious a father, to be the heir of his virtue as well as of his greatness, and the affairs of the commonwealth, in which I interested myself for his sake, so filled my mind, that they in some measure took from me the sense of my grief, which nothing but such a great and important scene of business, such a necessary talk of private and public duty, could have ever relieved. But let me inquire in my turn, how did your heart find a balm to alleviate the anguish of the wounds it had suffered? What employed your widowed hours after the death of your Essex? Countess of Clanricarde.Madam, I did not long continue a widow: I married again. Princess of Orange.Married again! With what prince, what king did you marry? The widow of Sir Philip Sidney and of my Lord Essex could not descend from them to a subject of less illustrious fame; and where could you find one that was comparable to either? Countess of Clanricarde.I did not seek for one, madam: the heroism of the former, and the ambition of the latter, had made me very unhappy. I desired a quiet life and the joys of wedded love, with an agreeable, virtuous, wellborn, unambitious, unenterprising husband. All this I found in the Earl of Clanricarde: and believe me, madam, I enjoyed more solid felicity in Ireland with him, than I ever had possessed with my two former husbands, in the pride of their glory, when England and all Europe resounded with their praise. Princess of Orange.Can it be possible that the daughter of Walsingham, and the wife of Sidney and Essex, should have sentiments so inferior to the minds from which she sprang, and to which she was matched? Believe me, madam, there was no hour of the many years I lived after the death of the Prince of Orange, in which I would have exchanged the pride and joy I continually had in hearing his praise, and seeing the monuments of his glory in the free commonwealth his wisdom had founded, for any other delights the world could give. The cares that I shared with him, while he remained upon earth, were a happiness to my mind, because they exalted its powers. The remembrance of them was dear to me after I had lost him. I thought his great soul, though removed to a higher sphere, would look down upon mine with some tenderness of affection, as its fellowlabourer in the heroic and divine work of delivering and freeing his country. But to be divorced from that soul! to be no longer his wife! to be the comfort of an inferior, inglorious husband! I had much rather have died a thousand deaths, than that my heart should one moment have conceived such a thought. Countess of Clanricarde.Your Highness must not judge of all hearts by your own. The ruling passion of that was apparently ambition. My inclinations were not so noble as yours, but better suited, perhaps, to the nature of woman. I loved Sir Philip Sidney, I loved the Earl of Essex, rather as amiable men than as heroes and statesmen. They were so taken up with their wars and stateaffairs, that my tenderness for them was too often neglected. The Earl of Clanricarde was constantly and wholly mine. He was brave, but had not that spirit of chivalry with which Sir Philip Sidney was absolutely possessed. He had, in a high degree, the esteem of Elizabeth, but did not aspire to her love; nor did he wish to be the rival of Carr or of Villiers in the affection of James. Such, madam, was the man on whom my last choice bestowed my hand, and whose kindness compensated for all my misfortunes. Providence has assigned to different tempers different comforts. To you it gave the education of a prince, the government of a state, the pride of being called the wife of a hero; to me a goodliving husband, quiet, opulence, nobility, and a fair reputation, though not in a degree so exalted as yours. If our whole sex were to choose between your consolations and mine, your Highness, I think, would find very few of your taste. But I respect the sublimity of your ideas. Now that we have no bodies they appear less unnatural than I should have thought them in the other world. Princess of Orange.Adieu, madam. Our souls are of a different order, and were not made to sympathise or converse with each other. DIALOGUE XVII. MARCUS BRUTUSPOMPONIUS ATTICUS. Brutus.Well, Atticus, I find that, notwithstanding your friendship for Cicero and for me, you survived us both many years, with the same cheerful spirit you had always possessed, and, by prudently wedding your daughter to Agrippa, secured the favour of Octavius Caesar, and even contracted a close alliance with him by your granddaughter's marriage with Tiberius Nero. Atticus.You know, Brutus, my philosophy was the Epicurean. I loved my friends, and I served them in their wants and distresses with great generosity; but I did not think myself obliged to die when they died, or not to make others as occasions should offer. Brutus.You did, I acknowledge, serve your friends, as far as you could, without bringing yourself, on their account, into any great danger or disturbance of mind: but that you loved them I much doubt. If you loved Cicero, how could you love Antony? If you loved me, how could you love Octavius? If you loved Octavius, how could you avoid taking part against Antony in their last civil war? Affection cannot be so strangely divided, and with so much equality, among men of such opposite characters, and who were such irreconcilable enemies to each other. Atticus.From my earliest youth I possessed the singular talent of ingratiating myself with the heads of different parties, and yet not engaging with any of them so far as to disturb my own quiet. My family was connected with the Marian party; and, though I retired to Athens that I might not be unwillingly involved in the troubles which that turbulent faction had begun to excite, yet when young Marius was declared an enemy by the Senate, I sent him a sum of money to support him in his exile. Nor did this hinder me from making my court so well to Sylla, upon his coming to Athens, that I obtained from him the highest marks of his favour. Nevertheless, when he pressed me to go with him to Rome, I declined it, being as unwilling to fight for him against the Marian party, as for them against him. He admired my conduct; and at his departure from Athens, ordered all the presents made to him during his abode in that city to be carried to me. I remind you of this only to show that moderation in all contentions of this kind had been always my principle; and that in the instances you mentioned I did not act from any levity or inconstancy in my nature, but from a regular consistent plan of conduct, which my reason convinced me was the wisest I could follow. Brutus.I remember indeed that you observed the same neutrality between Pompey and Julius Caesar. Atticus.I did soand that I might be able to do it with dignity, and without the reproach of ingratitude, I never would accept any office or honour from either of those great men; nor from Cicero, though my sister had married his brother; nor from you, Marcus Brutus, whose friendship I thought the greatest honour of my life. Brutus.Are there no obligations to a good heart, Pomponius, but honours and offices? Or could you, by refusing to encumber yourself with these, dissolve all other ties? But, setting aside any considerations of private affection or esteem, how was you able to reconcile your conduct with that which is the ruling principle in the heart of every virtuous man, and more especially a virtuous Roman, the love of the public? Atticus.The times I lived in were so bad, and the conflict of parties had so little to do in reality with the love of the public, that I thought my virtue much safer and purer by avoiding than mixing in the fray. Brutus.Possibly, in the dispute between Marius and Sylla, and even in that between Pompey and Caesar, a virtuous man might see so much to blame on both sides, and so much to fear, whichever faction should overcome the other, as to be justified in not engaging with either. But let me say, without vanity, in the war which I waged against Antony and Octavius you could have nothing to blame, for I know you approved the principle upon which I killed Julius Caesar. Nor had you anything to fear if our arms had succeeded, for you know that my intentions were upright and pure; nor was it doubtful that Cassius was as much determined as I to restore the Republic. How could you, then, with any sense of virtue in your heart, maintain an indifference and neutrality between the deliverers and the tyrants of your country? Atticus.My answer to this will necessarily require explanations, which my respect to the manes of Brutus makes me wish to avoid. Brutus.In the other world I loved truth, and was desirous that all might speak it with freedom; but here even the tender ears of a tyrant are compelled to endure it. If I committed any faults, or erred in my judgment, the calamities I have suffered are a punishment for it. Tell me then, truly, and without fear of offending, what you think were my failings. Atticus.You said that the principle upon which you killed Julius Caesar had my approbation. This I do not deny; but did I ever declare, or give you reason to believe, that I thought it a prudent or welltimed act? I had quite other thoughts. Nothing ever seemed to me worse judged or worse timed; and these, Brutus, were my reasons. Caesar was just setting out to make war on the Parthians. This was an enterprise of no little difficulty and no little danger; but his unbounded ambition, and that restless spirit which never would suffer him to take any repose, did not intend to stop there. You know very well (for he hid nothing from you) that he had formed a vast plan of marching, after he had conquered the whole Parthian Empire, along the coast of the Caspian Sea and the sides of Mount Caucasus into Scythia, in order to subdue all the countries that border on Germany, and Germany itself; from whence he proposed to return to Rome by Gaul. Consider now, I beseech you, how much time the execution of this project required. In some of his battles with so many fierce and warlike nations, the bravest of all the barbarians, he might have been slain; but, if he had not, disease, or age itself, might have ended his life before he could have completed such an immense undertaking. He was, when you killed him, in his fiftysixth year, and of an infirm constitution. Except his bastard by Cleopatra, he had no son; nor was his power so absolute or so quietly settled that he could have a thought of bequeathing the Empire, like a private inheritance, to his sister's grandson, Octavius. While he was absent there was no reason to fear any violence or maladministration in Italy or in Rome. Cicero would have had the chief authority in the Senate. The praetorship of the city had been conferred upon you by the favour of Caesar, and your known credit with him, added to the high reputation of your virtues and abilities, gave you a weight in all business which none of his party left behind him in Italy would have been able to oppose. What a fair prospect was here of good order, peace, and liberty at home, while abroad the Roman name would have been rendered more glorious, the disgrace of Crassus revenged, and the Empire extended beyond the utmost ambition of our forefathers by the greatest general that ever led the armies of Rome, or, perhaps, of any other nation! What did it signify whether in Asia, and among the barbarians, that general bore the name of King or Dictator? Nothing could be more puerile in you and your friends than to start so much at the proposition of his taking that name in Italy itself, when you had suffered him to enjoy all the power of royalty, and much more than any King of Rome had possessed from Romulus down to Tarquin. Brutus.We considered that name as the last insult offered to our liberty and our laws; it was an ensign of tyranny, hung out with a vain and arrogant purpose of rendering the servitude of Rome more apparent. We, therefore, determined to punish the tyrant, and restore our country to freedom. Atticus.You punished the tyrant, but you did not restore your country to freedom. By sparing Antony, against the opinion of Cassius, you suffered the tyranny to remain. He was Consul, and, from the moment that Caesar was dead, the chief power of the State was in his hands. The soldiers adored him for his liberality, valour, and military frankness. His eloquence was more persuasive from appearing unstudied. The nobility of his house, which descended from Hercules, would naturally inflame his heart with ambition. The whole course of his life had evidently shown that his thoughts were high and aspiring, and that he had little respect for the liberty of his country. He had been the second man in Caesar's party; by saving him you gave a new head to that party, which could no longer subsist without your ruin. Many who would have wished the restoration of liberty, if Caesar had died a natural death, were so incensed at his murder that, merely for the sake of punishing that, they were willing to confer all power upon Antony and make him absolute master of the Republic. This was particularly true with respect to the veterans who had served under Caesar, and he saw it so plainly that he presently availed himself of their dispositions. You and Cassius were obliged to fly out of Italy, and Cicero, who was unwilling to take the same part, could find no expedient to save himself and the Senate but the wretched one of supporting and raising very high another Caesar, the adopted son and heir of him you had slain, to oppose Antony and to divide the Caesarean party. But even while he did this he perpetually offended that party and made them his enemies by harangues in the Senate, which breathed the very spirit of the old Pompeian faction, and made him appear to Octavius and all the friends of the dead Dictator no less guilty of his death than those who had killed him. What could this end in but that which you and your friends had most to fear, a reunion of the whole Caesarean party and of their principal leaders, however discordant the one with the other, to destroy the Pompeians? For my own part, I foresaw it long before the event, and therefore kept myself wholly clear of those proceedings. You think I ought to have joined you and Cassius at Philippi, because I knew your good intentions, and that, if you succeeded, you designed to restore the commonwealth. I am persuaded you did both agree in that point, but you differed in so many others, there was such a dissimilitude in your tempers and characters, that the union between you could not have lasted long, and your dissension would have had most fatal effects with regard both to the settlement and to the administration of the Republic. Besides, the whole mass of it was in such a fermentation, and so corrupted, that I am convinced new disorders would soon have arisen. If you had applied gentle remedies, to which your nature inclined, those remedies would have failed; if Cassius had induced you to act with severity, your government would have been stigmatised with the name of a tyranny more detestable than that against which you conspired, and Caesar's clemency would have been the perpetual topic of every factious oration to the people, and of every seditious discourse to the soldiers. Thus you would have soon been plunged in the miseries of another civil war, or perhaps assassinated in the Senate, as Julius was by you. Nothing could give the Roman Empire a lasting tranquillity but such a prudent plan of a mitigated imperial power as was afterwards formed by Octavius, when he had ably and happily delivered himself from all opposition and partnership in the government. Those quiet times I lived to see, and I must say they were the best I ever had seen, far better than those under the turbulent aristocracy for which you contended. And let me boast a little of my own prudence, which, through so many storms, could steer me safe into that port. Had it only given me safety, without reputation, I should not think that I ought to value myself upon it. But in all these revolutions my honour remained as unimpaired as my fortune. I so conducted myself that I lost no esteem in being Antony's friend after having been Cicero's, or in my alliance with Agrippa and Augustus Caesar after my friendship with you. Nor did either Caesar or Antony blame my inaction in the quarrels between them; but, on the contrary, they both seemed to respect me the more for the neutrality I observed. My obligations to the one and alliance with the other made it improper for me to act against either, and my constant tenor of life had procured me an exemption from all civil wars by a kind of prescription. Brutus.If man were born to no higher purpose than to wear out a long life in ease and prosperity, with the general esteem of the world, your wisdom was evidently as much superior to mine as my life was shorter and more unhappy than yours. Nay, I verily believe it exceeded the prudence of any other man that ever existed, considering in what difficult circumstances you were placed, and with how many violent shocks and sudden changes of fortune you were obliged to contend. But here the most virtuous and publicspirited conduct is found to have been the most prudent. The motives of our actions, not the success, give us here renown. And could I return to that life from whence I am escaped, I would not change my character to imitate yours; I would again be Brutus rather than Atticus. Even without the sweet hope of an eternal reward in a more perfect state, which is the strongest and most immovable support to the good under every misfortune, I swear by the gods I would not give up the noble feelings of my heart, that elevation of mind which accompanies active and suffering virtue, for your seventyseven years of constant tranquillity, with all the praise you obtained from the learned men whom you patronised or the great men whom you courted. DIALOGUE XVIII. WILLIAM III., KING OF ENGLANDJOHN DE WITT, PENSIONER, OF HOLLAND. William.Though I had no cause to love you, yet, believe me, I sincerely lament your fate. Who could have thought that De Witt, the most popular Minister that ever served a commonwealth, should fall a sacrifice to popular fury! Such admirable talents, such virtues as you were endowed with, so clear, so cool, so comprehensive a head, a heart so untainted with any kind of vice, despising money, despising pleasure, despising the vain ostentation of greatness, such application to business, such ability in it, such courage, such firmness, and so perfect a knowledge of the nation you governed, seemed to assure you of a fixed and stable support in the public affection. But nothing can be durable that depends on the passions of the people. De Witt.It is very generous in your Majesty, not only to compassionate the fate of a man whose political principles made him an enemy to your greatness, but to ascribe it to the caprice and inconstancy of the people, as if there had been nothing very blamable in his conduct. I feel the magnanimity of this discourse from your Majesty, and it confirms what I have heard of all your behaviour after my death. But I must frankly confess that, although the rage of the populace was carried much too far when they tore me and my unfortunate brother to pieces, yet I certainly had deserved to lose their affection by relying too much on the uncertain and dangerous friendship of France, and by weakening the military strength of the State, to serve little purposes of my own power, and secure to myself the interested affection of the burgomasters or others who had credit and weight in the faction the favour of which I courted. This had almost subjected my country to France, if you, great prince, had not been set at the head of the falling Republic, and had not exerted such extraordinary virtues and abilities to raise and support it, as surpassed even the heroism and prudence of William, our first Stadtholder, and equalled yon to the most illustrious patriots of Greece or Rome. William.This praise from your mouth is glorious to me indeed! What can so much exalt the character of a prince as to have his actions approved by a zealous Republican and the enemy of his house? De Witt.If I did not approve them I should show myself the enemy of the Republic. You never sought to tyrannise over it; you loved, you defended, you preserved its freedom. Thebes was not more indebted to Epaminondas or Pelopidas for its independence and glory than the United Provinces were to you. How wonderful was it to see a youth, who had scarce attained to the twentysecond year of his age, whose spirit had been depressed and kept down by a jealous and hostile faction, rising at once to the conduct of a most arduous and perilous war, stopping an enemy victorious, triumphant, who had penetrated into the heart of his country, driving him back and recovering from him all he had conquered: to see this done with an army in which a little before there was neither discipline, courage, nor sense of honour! Ancient history has no exploit superior to it; and it will ennoble the modern whenever a Livy or a Plutarch shall arise to do justice to it, and set the hero who performed it in a true light. William.Say, rather, when time shall have worn out that malignity and rancour of party which in free States is so apt to oppose itself to the sentiments of gratitude and esteem for their servants and benefactors. De Witt.How magnanimous was your reply, how much in the spirit of true ancient virtue, when being asked, in the greatest extremity of our danger, \"How you intended to live after Holland was lost?\" you said, \"You would live on the lands you had left in Germany, and had rather pass your life in hunting there than sell your country or liberty to France at any rate!\" How nobly did you think when, being offered your patrimonial lordships and lands in the county of Burgundy, or the full value of them from France, by the mediation of England in the treaty of peace, your answer was, \"That to gain one good town more for the Spaniards in Flanders you would be content to lose them all!\" No wonder, after this, that you were able to combine all Europe in a league against the power of France; that you were the centre of union, and the directing soul of that wise, that generous confederacy formed by your labours; that you could steadily support and keep it together, in spite of repeated misfortunes; that even after defeats you were as formidable to Louis as other generals after victories; and that in the end you became the deliverer of Europe, as you had before been of Holland. William.I had, in truth, no other object, no other passion at heart throughout my whole life but to maintain the independence and freedom of Europe against the ambition of France. It was this desire which formed the whole plan of my policy, which animated all my counsels, both as Prince of Orange and King of England. De Witt.This desire was the most noble (I speak it with shame) that could warm the heart of a prince whose ancestors had opposed and in a great measure destroyed the power of Spain when that nation aspired to the monarchy of Europe. France, sir, in your days had an equal ambition and more strength to support her vast designs than Spain under the government of Philip II. That ambition you restrained, that strength you resisted. I, alas! was seduced by her perfidious Court, and by the necessity of affairs in that system of policy which I had adopted, to ask her assistance, to rely on her favour, and to make the commonwealth, whose counsels I directed, subservient to her greatness. Permit me, sir, to explain to you the motives of my conduct. If all the Princes of Orange had acted like you, I should never have been the enemy of your house. But Prince Maurice of Nassau desired to oppress the liberty of that State which his virtuous father had freed at the expense of his life, and which he himself had defended against the arms of the House of Austria with the highest reputation of military abilities. Under a pretence of religion (the most execrable cover of a wicked design) he put to death, as a criminal, that upright Minister, Barneveldt, his father's best friend, because, he refused to concur with him in treason against the State. He likewise imprisoned several other good men and lovers of their country, confiscated their estates, and ruined their families. Yet, after he had done these cruel acts of injustice with a view to make himself sovereign of the Dutch Commonwealth, he found they had drawn such a general odium upon him that, not daring to accomplish his iniquitous purpose, he stopped short of the tyranny to which he had sacrificed his honour and virtue; a disappointment so mortifying and so painful to his mind that it probably hastened his death. William.Would to Heaven he had died before the meeting of that infamous Synod of Dort, by which he not only dishonoured himself and his family, but the Protestant religion itself! Forgive this interruptionmy grief forced me to itI desire you to proceed. De Witt.The brother of Maurice, Prince Henry, who succeeded to his dignities in the Republic, acted with more moderation. But the son of that good prince, your Majesty's father (I am sorry to speak what I know you hear with pain), resumed, in the pride and fire of his youth, the ambitious designs of his uncle. He failed in his undertaking, and soon afterwards died, but left in the hearts of the whole Republican party an incurable jealousy and dread of his family. Full of these prejudices, and zealous for liberty, I thought it my duty as Pensionary of Holland to prevent for ever, if I could, your restoration to the power your ancestors had enjoyed, which I sincerely believed would be inconsistent with the safety and freedom of my country. William.Let me stop you a moment here. When my greatgrandfather formed the plan of the Dutch Commonwealth, he made the power of a Stadtholder one of the principal springs in his system of government. How could you imagine that it would ever go well when deprived of this spring, so necessary to adjust and balance its motions? A constitution originally formed with no mixture of regal power may long be maintained in all its vigour and energy without such a power; but if any degree of monarchy was mixed from the beginning in the principles of it, the forcing that out must necessarily disorder and weaken the whole fabric. This was particularly the case in our Republic. The negative voice of every small town in the provincial States, the tedious slowness of our forms and deliberations, the facility with which foreign Ministers may seduce or purchase the opinions of so many persons as have a right to concur in all our resolutions, make it impossible for the Government, even in the quietest times, to be well carried on without the authority and influence of a Stadtholder, which are the only remedy our constitution has provided for those evils. De Witt.I acknowledge they are; but I and my party thought no evil so great as that remedy, and therefore we sought for other more pleasing resources. One of these, upon which we most confidently depended, was the friendship of France. I flattered myself that the interest of the French would secure to me their favour, as your relation to the Crown of England might naturally raise in them a jealousy of your power. I hoped they would encourage the trade and commerce of the Dutch in opposition to the English, the ancient enemies of their Crown, and let us enjoy all the benefits of a perpetual peace, unless we made war upon England, or England upon us, in either of which cases it was reasonable to presume we should have their assistance. The French Minister at the Hague, who served his Court but too well, so confirmed me in these notions, that I had no apprehensions of the mine which was forming under my feet. William.You found your authority strengthened by a plan so agreeable to your party, and this contributed more to deceive your sagacity than all the art of D'Estrades. De Witt.My policy seemed to me entirely suitable to the lasting security of my own power, of the liberty of my country, and of its maritime greatness; for I made it my care to keep up a very powerful navy, well commanded and officered, for the defence of all these against the English; but, as I feared nothing from France, or any Power on the Continent, I neglected the army, or rather I destroyed it, by enervating all its strength, by disbanding old troops and veteran officers attached to the House of Orange, and putting in their place a trading militia, commanded by officers who had neither experience nor courage, and who owed their promotions to no other merit but their relation to or interest with some leading men in the several oligarchies of which the Government in all the Dutch towns is composed. Nevertheless, on the invasion of Flanders by the French, I was forced to depart from my close connection with France, and to concur with England and Sweden in the Triple Alliance, which Sir William Temple proposed, in order to check her ambition; but as I entered into that measure from necessity, not from choice, I did not pursue it. I neglected to improve our union with England, or to secure that with Sweden; I avoided any conjunction of counsels with Spain; I formed no alliance with the Emperor or the Germans; I corrupted our army more and more; till a sudden, unnatural confederacy, struck up, against all the maxims of policy, by the Court of England with France, for the conquest of the Seven Provinces, brought these at once to the very brink of destruction, and made me a victim to the fury of a populace too justly provoked. William.I must say that your plan was in reality nothing more than to procure for the Dutch a licence to trade under the good pleasure and gracious protection of France. But any State that so entirely depends on another is only a province, and its liberty is a servitude graced with a sweet but empty name. You should have reflected that to a monarch so ambitious and so vain as Louis le Grand the idea of a conquest which seemed almost certain, and the desire of humbling a haughty Republic, were temptations irresistible. His bigotry likewise would concur in recommending to him an enterprise which he might think would put heresy under his feet. And if you knew either the character of Charles II. or the principles of his government, you ought not to have supposed his union with France for the ruin of Holland an impossible or even improbable event. It is hardly excusable in a statesman to be greatly surprised that the inclinations of princes should prevail upon them to act, in many particulars, without any regard to the political maxims and interests of their kingdoms. De Witt.I am ashamed of my error; but the chief cause of it was that, though I thought very ill, I did not think quite so ill of Charles II. and his Ministry as they deserved. I imagined, too, that his Parliament would restrain him from engaging in such a war, or compel him to engage in our defence if France should attack us. These, I acknowledge, are excuses, not justifications. When the French marched into Holland and found it in a condition so unable to resist them, my fame as a Minister irrecoverably sank; for, not to appear a traitor, I was obliged to confess myself a dupe. But what praise is sufficient for the wisdom and virtue you showed in so firmly rejecting the offers which, I have been informed, were made to you, both by England and France, when first you appeared in arms at the head of your country, to give you the sovereignty of the Seven Provinces by the assistance and under the protection of the two Crowns! Believe me, great prince, had I been living in those times, and had known the generous answers you made to those offers (which were repeated more than once during the course of the war), not the most ancient and devoted servant to your family would have been more your friend than I. But who could reasonably hope for such moderation, and such a right sense of glory, in the mind of a young man descended from kings, whose mother was daughter to Charles I., and whose father had left him the seducing example of a very different conduct? Happy, indeed, was the English nation to have such a prince, so nearly allied to their Crown both in blood and by marriage, whom they might call to be their deliverer when bigotry and despotism, the two greatest enemies to human society, had almost overthrown their whole constitution in Church and State! William.They might have been happy, but were not. As soon as I had accomplished their deliverance for them, many of them became my most implacable enemies, and even wished to restore the unforgiving prince whom they had so unanimously and so justly expelled from his kingdom. Such levity seems incredible. I could not myself have imagined it possible, in a nation famed for good sense, if I had not had proofs of it beyond contradiction. They seemed as much to forget what they called me over for as that they had called me over. The security of their religion, the maintenance of their liberty, were no longer their care. All was to yield to the incomprehensible doctrine of right divine and passive obedience. Thus the Tories grew Jacobites, after having renounced both that doctrine and King James, by their opposition to him, by their invitation of me, and by every Act of the Parliament which gave me the Crown. But the most troublesome of my enemies were a set of Republicans, who violently opposed all my measures, and joined with the Jacobites in disturbing my government, only because it was not a commonwealth. De Witt.They who were Republicans under your government in the Kingdom of England did not love liberty, but aspired to dominion, and wished to throw the nation into a total confusion, that it might give them a chance of working out from that anarchy a better state for themselves. William.Your observation is just. A proud man thinks himself a lover of liberty when he is only impatient of a power in government above his own, and were he a king, or the first Minister of a king, would be a tyrant. Nevertheless I will own to you, with the candour which becomes a virtuous prince, that there were in England some Whigs, and even some of the most sober and moderate Tories, who, with very honest intentions, and sometimes with good judgments, proposed new securities to the liberty of the nation, against the prerogative or influence of the Crown and the corruption of Ministers in future times. To some of these I gave way, being convinced they were right, but others I resisted for fear of weakening too much the royal authority, and breaking that balance in which consists the perfection of a mixed form of government. I should not, perhaps, have resisted so many if I had not seen in the House of Commons a disposition to rise in their demands on the Crown had they found it more yielding. The difficulties of my government, upon the whole, were so great that I once had determined, from mere disgust and resentment, to give back to the nation, assembled in Parliament, the crown they had placed on my head, and retire to Holland, where I found more affection and gratitude in the people. But I was stopped by the earnest supplications of my friends and by an unwillingness to undo the great work I had done, especially as I knew that, if England should return into the hands of King James, it would be impossible in that crisis to preserve the rest of Europe from the dominion of France. De Witt.Heaven be praised that your Majesty did not persevere in so fatal a resolution! The United Provinces would have been ruined by it together with England. But I cannot enough express my astonishment that you should have met with such treatment as could suggest such a thought. The English must surely be a people incapable either of liberty or subjection. William.There were, I must acknowledge, some faults in my temper and some in my government, which are an excuse for my subjects with regard to the uneasiness and disquiet they gave me. My taciturnity, which suited the genius of the Dutch, offended theirs. They love an affable prince; it was chiefly his affability that made them so fond of Charles II. Their frankness and goodhumour could not brook the reserve and coldness of my nature. Then the excess of my favour to some of the Dutch, whom I had brought over with me, excited a national jealousy in the English and hurt their pride. My government also appeared, at last, too unsteady, too fluctuating between the Whigs and the Tories, which almost deprived me of the confidence and affection of both parties. I trusted too much to the integrity and the purity of my intentions, without using those arts that are necessary to allay the ferment of factions and allure men to their duty by soothing their passions. Upon the whole I am sensible that I better understood how to govern the Dutch than the English or the Scotch, and should probably have been thought a greater man if I had not been King of Great Britain. De Witt.It is a shame to the English that gratitude and affection for such merit as yours were not able to overcome any little disgusts arising from your temper, and enthrone their deliverer in the hearts of his people. But will your Majesty give me leave to ask you one question? Is it true, as I have heard, that many of them disliked your alliances on the Continent and spoke of your war with France as a Dutch measure, in which you sacrificed England to Holland? William.The cry of the nation at first was strong for the war, but before the end of it the Tories began publicly to talk the language you mention. And no wonder they did, for, as they then had a desire to set up again the maxims of government which had prevailed in the reign of their beloved Charles II., they could not but represent opposition to France, and vigorous measures taken to restrain her ambition, as unnecessary for England, because they well knew that the counsels of that king had been utterly averse to such measures; that his whole policy made him a friend to France; that he was governed by a French mistress, and even bribed by French money to give that Court his assistance, or at least his acquiescence, in all their designs. De Witt.A King of England whose Cabinet is governed by France, and who becomes a vile pensioner to a French King, degrades himself from his royalty, and ought to be considered as an enemy to the nation. Indeed the whole policy of Charles II., when he was not forced off from his natural bias by the necessity he lay under of soothing his Parliament, was a constant, designed, systematical opposition to the interest of his people. His brother, though more sensible to the honour of England, was by his Popery and desire of arbitrary power constrained to lean upon France, and do nothing to obstruct her designs on the Continent or lessen her greatness. It was therefore necessary to place the British Crown on your head, not only with a view to preserve the religious and civil rights of the people from internal oppressions, but to rescue the whole State from that servile dependence on its natural enemy, which must unquestionably have ended in its destruction. What folly was it to revile your measures abroad, as sacrificing the interest of your British dominions to connections with the Continent, and principally with Holland! Had Great Britain no interest to hinder the French from being masters of all the Austrian Netherlands, and forcing the Seven United Provinces, her strongest barrier on the Continent against the power of that nation, to submit with the rest to their yoke? Would her trade, would her coasts, would her capital itself have been safe after so mighty an increase of shipping and sailors as France would have gained by those conquests? And what could have prevented them, but the war which you waged and the alliances which you formed? Could the Dutch and the Germans, unaided by Great Britain, have attempted to make head against a Power which, even with her assistance, strong and spirited as it was, they could hardly resist? And after the check which had been given to the encroachments of France by the efforts of the first grand alliance, did not a new and greater danger make it necessary to recur to another such league? Was not the union of France and Spain under one monarch, or even under one family, the most alarming contingency that ever had threatened the liberty of Europe? William.I thought so, and I am sure I did not err in my judgment. But folly is blind, and faction wilfully shuts her eyes against the most evident truths that cross her designs, as she believes any lies, however palpable and absurd, that she thinks will assist them. De Witt.The only objection which seems to have any real weight against your system of policy, with regard to the maintenance of a balance of power in Europe, is the enormous expense that must necessarily attend it; an expense which I am afraid neither England nor Holland will be able to bear without extreme inconvenience. William.I will answer that objection by asking a question. If, when you were Pensionary of Holland, intelligence had been brought that the dykes were ready to break and the sea was coming in to overwhelm and to drown us, what would you have said to one of the deputies who, when you were proposing the proper repairs to stop the inundation, should have objected to the charge as too heavy on the Province? This was the case in a political sense with both England and Holland. The fences raised to keep out superstition and tyranny were all giving way; those dreadful evils were threatening, with their whole accumulated force, to break in upon us and overwhelm our ecclesiastical and civil constitutions. In such circumstances to object to a necessary expense is folly and madness. De Witt.It is certain, sir, that the utmost abilities of a nation can never be so well employed as in the unwearied, pertinacious defence of their religion and freedom. When these are lost, there remains nothing that is worth the concern of a good or wise man. Nor do I think it consistent with the prudence of government not to guard against future dangers, as well as present; which precaution must be often in some degree expensive. I acknowledge, too, that the resources of a commercial country, which supports its trade, even in war, by invincible fleets, and takes care not to hurt it in the methods of imposing or collecting its taxes, are immense, and inconceivable till the trial is made; especially where the Government, which demands the supplies, is agreeable to the people. But yet an unlimited and continued expense will in the end be destructive. What matters it whether a State is mortally wounded by the hand of a foreign enemy, or dies by a consumption of its own vital strength? Such a consumption will come upon Holland sooner than upon England, because the latter has a greater radical force; but, great as it is, that force at last will be so diminished and exhausted by perpetual drains, that it may fail all at once, and those efforts, which may seem most surprisingly vigorous, will be in reality the convulsions of death. I don't apply this to your Majesty's government; but I speak with a view to what may happen hereafter from the extensive ideas of negotiation and war which you have established: they have been salutary to your kingdom; but they will, I fear, be pernicious in future times, if in pursuing great plans great Ministers do not act with a sobriety, prudence, and attention to frugality, which very seldom are joined with an extraordinary vigour and boldness of counsels. DIALOGUE XIX. M. APICIUSDARTENEUF. Darteneuf.Alas! poor Apicius, I pity thee from my heart for not having lived in my age and in my country. How many good dishes, unknown at Rome in thy days, have I feasted upon in England! Apicius.Keep your pity for yourself. How many good dishes have I feasted upon in Rome which England does not produce, or of which the knowledge has been lost, with other treasures of antiquity, in these degenerate days! The fat paps of a sow, the livers of scari, the brains of phoenicopters, and the tripotanum, which consisted of three excellent sorts of fish, for which you English have no names, the lupus marinus, the myxo, and the muraena. Darteneuf.I thought the muraena had been our lamprey. We have delicate ones in the Severn. Apicius.No; the muraena, so respected by the ancient Roman senators, was a saltwater fish, and kept by our nobles in ponds, into which the sea was admitted. Darteneuf.Why, then, I dare say our Severn lampreys are better. Did you ever eat any of them stewed or potted? Apicius.I was never in Britain. Your country then was too barbarous for me to go thither. I should have been afraid that the Britons would have eaten me. Darteneuf.I am sorry for you, very sorry; for if you never were in Britain you never ate the best oysters. Apicius.Pardon me, sir, your Sandwich oysters were brought to Rome in my time. Darteneuf.They could not be fresh; they were good for nothing there. You should have come to Sandwich to eat them. It is a shame for you that you did not. An epicure talk of danger when he is in search of a dainty! Did not Leander swim over the Hellespont in a tempest to get to his mistress? And what is a wench to a barrel of exquisite oysters? Apicius.Nay; I am sure you can't blame me for any want of alertness in seeking fine fishes. I sailed to the coast of Africa, from Minturnae in Campania, only to taste of one species, which I heard was larger there than it was on our coast; and finding that I had received a false information, I returned immediately, without even deigning to land. Darteneuf.There was some sense in that. But why did not you also make a voyage to Sandwich? Had you once tasted those oysters in their highest perfection, you would never have come back; you would have eaten till you burst. Apicius.I wish I had. It would have been better than poisoning myself, as I did at Rome, because I found, upon the balance of my accounts, I had only the pitiful sum of fourscore thousand pounds left, which would not afford me a table to keep me from starving. Darteneuf.A sum of fourscore thousand pounds not keep you from starving! Would I had had it! I should have been twenty years in spending it, with the best table in London. Apicius.Alas, poor man! This shows that you English have no idea of the luxury that reigned in our tables. Before I died I had spent in my kitchen 807,291 pounds 13s. 4d. Darteneuf.I don't believe a word of it. There is certainly an error in the account. Apicius.Why, the establishment of Lucullus for his suppers in the ApolloI mean for every supper he sat down to in the room which he called by that namewas 5,000 drachms, which is in your money 1,614 pounds 11s. 8d. Darteneuf.Would I had supped with him there! But are you sure there is no blunder in these calculations? Apicius.Ask your learned men that. I reckon as they tell me. But you may think that these feasts were made only by great men, by triumphant generals, like Lucullus, who had plundered all Asia to help him in his housekeeping. What will you say when I tell you that the player AEsopus had one dish that cost him 6,000 sestertiathat is, 4,843 pounds 10s. English? Darteneuf.What will I say? Why, that I pity my worthy friend Mr. Gibber, and that, if I had known this when alive, I should have hanged myself for vexation that I did not live in those days. Apicius.Well you might, well you might. You don't know what eating is. You never could know it. Nothing less than the wealth of the Roman Empire is sufficient to enable a man of taste to keep a good table. Our players were infinitely richer than your princes. Darteneuf.Oh that I had but lived in the blessed reign of Caligula, or of Vitellius, or of Heliogabalus, and had been admitted to the honour of dining with their slaves! Apicius.Ay, there you touch me. I am miserable that I died before their good times. They carried the glories of their table much farther than the best eaters of the age in which I lived. Vitellius spent in feasting, within the compass of one year, what would amount in your money to above 7,200,000 pounds. He told me so himself in a conversation I had with him not long ago. And the two others you mentioned did not fall very short of his royal magnificence. Darteneuf.These, indeed, were great princes. But what most affects me is the luxury of that upstart fellow AEsopus. Pray, of what ingredients might the dish he paid so much for consist? Apicius.Chiefly of singing birds. It was that which so greatly enhanced the price. Darteneuf.Of singing birds! Choke him! I never ate but one, which I stole out of its cage from a lady of my acquaintance, and all London was in an uproar, as if I had stolen and roasted an only child. But, upon recollection, I doubt whether I have really so much cause to envy AEsopus. For the singing bird which I ate was not so good as a wheatear or becafigue. And therefore I suspect that all the luxury you have bragged of was nothing but vanity. It was like the foolish extravagance of the son of AEsopus, who dissolved pearls in vinegar and drank them at supper. I will stake my credit that a haunch of good buck venison and my favourite ham pie were much better dishes than any at the table of Vitellius himself. It does not appear that you ancients ever had any good soups, without which a man of taste cannot possibly dine. The rabbits in Italy are detestable. But what is better than the wing of one of our English wild rabbits? I have been told you had no turkeys. The mutton in Italy is illflavoured. And as for your boars roasted whole, they were only fit to be served up at a corporation feast or election dinner. A small barbecued hog is worth a hundred of them. And a good collar of Canterbury or Shrewsbury brawn is a much better dish. Apicius.If you had some meats that we wanted, yet our cookery must have been greatly superior to yours. Our cooks were so excellent that they could give to hog's flesh the taste of all other meats. Darteneuf.I should never have endured their imitations. You might as easily have imposed on a good connoisseur in painting the copy of a fine picture for the original. Our cooks, on the contrary, give to all other meats, and even to some kinds of fish, a rich flavour of bacon without destroying that which makes the distinction of one from another. It does not appear to me that essence of hams was ever known to the ancients. We have a hundred ragouts, the composition of which surpasses all description. Had yours been as good, you could not have lain indolently lolling upon couches while you were eating. They would have made you sit up and mind your business. Then you had a strange custom of hearing things read to you while you were at supper. This demonstrates that you were not so well entertained as we are with our meat. When I was at table, I neither heard, nor saw, nor spoke; I only tasted. But the worst of all is that, in the utmost perfection of your luxury, you had no wine to be named with claret, Burgundy, champagne, old hock, or Tokay. You boasted much of your Falernum, but I have tasted the Lachrymae Christi and other wines of that coast, not one of which would I have drunk above a glass or two of if you would have given me the Kingdom of Naples. I have read that you boiled your wines and mixed water with them, which is sufficient evidence that in themselves they were not fit to drink. Apicius.I am afraid you do really excel us in wines; not to mention your beer, your cider, and your perry, of all which I have heard great fame from your countrymen, and their report has been confirmed by the testimony of their neighbours who have travelled into England. Wonderful things have been also said to me of an English liquor called punch. Darteneuf.Ay, to have died without tasting that is miserable indeed! There is rum punch and arrack punch! It is difficult to say which is best, but Jupiter would have given his nectar for either of them, upon my word and honour. Apicius.The thought of them puts me into a fever with thirst. Darteneuf.Those incomparable liquors are brought to us from the East and West Indies, of the first of which you knew little, and of the latter nothing. This alone is sufficient to determine the dispute. What a new world of good things for eating and drinking has Columbus opened to us! Think of that, and despair. Apicius.I cannot indeed but exceedingly lament my ill fate that America was not discovered before I was born. It tortures me when I hear of chocolate, pineapples, and a number of other fine fruits, or delicious meats, produced there which I have never tasted. Darteneuf.The single advantage of having sugar to sweeten everything with, instead of honey, which you, for want of the other, were obliged to make use of, is inestimable. Apicius.I confess your superiority in that important article. But what grieves me most is that I never ate a turtle. They tell me that it is absolutely the best of all foods. Darteneuf.Yes, I have heard the Americans say so, but I never ate any; for in my time they were not brought over to England. Apicius.Never ate any turtle! How couldst thou dare to accuse me of not going to Sandwich to eat oysters, and didst not thyself take a trip to America to riot on turtles? But know, wretched man, I am credibly informed that they are now as plentiful in England as sturgeons. There are turtleboats that go regularly to London and Bristol from the West Indies. I have just received this information from a fat alderman, who died in London last week of a surfeit he got at a turtle feast in that city. Darteneuf.What does he say? Does he affirm to you that turtle is better than venison? Apicius.He says, there was a haunch of the fattest venison untouched, while every mouth was employed on the turtle alone. Darteneuf.Alas! how imperfect is human felicity! I lived in an age when the noble science of eating was supposed to have been carried to its highest perfection in England and France. And yet a turtle feast is a novelty to me! Would it be impossible, do you think, to obtain leave from Pluto of going back for one day to my own table at London just to taste of that food? I would promise to kill myself by the quantity of it I would eat before the next morning. Apicius.You have forgot you have no body. That which you had has long been rotten, and you can never return to the earth with another, unless Pythagoras should send you thither to animate a hog. But comfort yourself that, as you have eaten dainties which I never tasted, so the next age will eat some unknown to this. New discoveries will be made, and new delicacies brought from other parts of the world. But see; who comes hither? I think it is Mercury. Mercury.Gentlemen, I must tell you that I have stood near you invisible, and heard your discoursea privilege which, you know, we deities use as often as we please. Attend, therefore, to what I shall communicate to you, relating to the subject upon which you have been talking. I know two men, one of whom lived in ancient, and the other in modern times, who had much more pleasure in eating than either of you through the whole course of your lives. Apicius.One of these happy epicures, I presume, was a Sybarite, and the other a French gentleman settled in the West Indies. Mercury.No; one was a Spartan soldier, and the other an English farmer. I see you both look astonished. But what I tell you is truth. Labour and hunger gave a relish to the black broth of the former, and the salt beef of the latter, beyond what you ever found in the tripotanums or ham pies, that vainly stimulated your forced and languid appetites, which perpetual indolence weakened, and constant luxury overcharged. Darteneuf.This, Apicius, is more mortifying than not to have shared a turtle feast. Apicius.I wish, Mercury, you had taught me your art of cookery in my lifetime; but it is a sad thing not to know what good living is till after one is dead. DIALOGUE XX. ALEXANDER THE GREATCHARLES XII., KING OF SWEDEN. Alexander.Your Majesty seems in great wrath! Who has offended you? Charles.The offence is to you as much as me. Here is a fellow admitted into Elysium who has affronted us bothan English poet, one Pope. He has called us two madmen! Alexander.I have been unlucky in poets. No prince ever was fonder of the Muses than I, or has received from them a more ungrateful return. When I was alive, I declared that I envied Achilles because he had a Homer to celebrate his exploits; and I most bountifully rewarded Choerilus, a pretender to poetry, for writing verses on mine. But my liberality, instead of doing me honour, has since drawn upon me the ridicule of Horace, a witty Roman poet; and Lucan, another versifier of the same nation, has loaded my memory with the harshest invectives. Charles.I know nothing of these; but I know that in my time a pert French satirist, one Boileau, made so free with your character, that I tore his book for having abused my favourite hero. And now this saucy Englishman has libelled us both. But I have a proposal to make to you for the reparation of our honour. If you will join with me, we will turn all these insolent scribblers out of Elysium, and throw them down headlong to the bottom of Tartarus, in spite of Pluto and all his guards. Alexander.This is just such a scheme as that you formed at Bender, to maintain yourself there, with the aid of three hundred Swedes, against the whole force of the Ottoman Empire. And I must say that such follies gave the English poet too much cause to call you a madman. Charles.If my heroism was madness, yours, I presume, was not wisdom. Alexander.There was a vast difference between your conduct and mine. Let poets or declaimers say what they will, history shows that I was not only the bravest soldier, but one of the ablest commanders the world has ever seen. Whereas you, by imprudently leading your army into vast and barren deserts at the approach of the winter, exposed it to perish in its march for want of subsistence, lost your artillery, lost a great number of your soldiers, and was forced to fight with the Muscovites under such disadvantages as made it almost impossible for you to conquer. Charles.I will not dispute your superiority as a general. It is not for me, a mere mortal, to contend with the son of Jupiter Ammon. Alexander.I suppose you think my pretending that Jupiter was my father as much entitles me to the name of a madman as your extravagant behaviour at Bender does you. But you are greatly mistaken. It was not my vanity, but my policy, which set up that pretension. When I proposed to undertake the conquest of Asia, it was necessary for me to appear to the people something more than a man. They had been used to the idea of demigod heroes. I therefore claimed an equal descent with Osiris and Sesostris, with Bacchus and Hercules, the former conquerors of the East. The opinion of my divinity assisted my arms and subdued all nations before me, from the Granicus to the Ganges. But though I called myself the son of Jupiter, and kept up the veneration that name inspired, by a courage which seemed more than human, and by the sublime magnanimity of all my behaviour, I did not forget that I was the son of Philip. I used the policy of my father and the wise lessons of Aristotle, whom he had made my preceptor, in the conduct of all my great designs. It was the son of Philip who planted Greek colonies in Asia as far as the Indies; who formed projects of trade more extensive than his empire itself; who laid the foundations of them in the midst of his wars; who built Alexandria, to be the centre and staple of commerce between Europe, Asia, and Africa, who sent Nearchus to navigate the unknown Indian seas, and intended to have gone himself from those seas to the Pillars of Herculesthat is, to have explored the passage round Africa, the discovery of which has since been so glorious to Vasco de Gama. It was the son of Philip who, after subduing the Persians, governed them with such lenity, such justice, and such wisdom, that they loved him even more than ever they had loved their natural kings; and who, by intermarriages and all methods that could best establish a coalition between the conquerors and the conquered, united them into one people. But what, sir, did you do to advance the trade of your subjects, to procure any benefit to those you had vanquished, or to convert any enemy into a friend? Charles.When I might easily have made myself King of Poland, and was advised to do so by Count Piper, my favourite Minister, I generously gave that kingdom to Stanislas, as you had given a great part of you conquests in India to Porus, besides his own dominions, which you restored to him entire after you had beaten his army and taken him captive. Alexander.I gave him the government of those countries under me and as my lieutenant, which was the best method of preserving my power in conquests where I could not leave garrisons sufficient to maintain them. The same policy was afterwards practised by the Romans, who of all conquerors, except me, were the greatest politicians. But neither was I nor were they so extravagant as to conquer only for others, or dethrone kings with no view but merely to have the pleasure of bestowing their crowns on some of their subjects without any advantage to ourselves. Nevertheless, I will own that my expedition to India was an exploit of the son of Jupiter, not of the son of Philip. I had done better if I had stayed to give more consistency to my Persian and Grecian Empires, instead of attempting new conquests and at such a distance so soon. Yet even this war was of use to hinder my troops from being corrupted by the effeminacy of Asia, and to keep up that universal awe of my name which in those countries was the great support of my power. Charles.In the unwearied activity with which I proceeded from one enterprise to another, I dare call myself your equal. Nay, I may pretend to a higher glory than you, because you only went on from victory to victory; but the greatest losses were not able to diminish my ardour or stop the efforts of my daring and invincible spirit. Alexander.You showed in adversity much more magnanimity than you did in prosperity. How unworthy of a prince who imitated me was your behaviour to the king your arms had vanquished! The compelling Augustus to write himself a letter of congratulation to one of his vassals whom you had placed in his throne, was the very reverse of my treatment of Porus and Darius. It was an ungenerous insult upon his illfortune. It was the triumph of a little and a low mind. The visit you made him immediately after that insult was a further contempt, offensive to him, and both useless and dangerous to yourself. Charles.I feared no danger from it. I knew he durst not use the power I gave him to hurt me. Alexander.If his resentment in that instant had prevailed over his fear, as it was likely to do, you would have perished deservedly by your insolence and presumption. For my part, intrepid as I was in all dangers which I thought it was necessary or proper for me to meet, I never put myself one moment in the power of an enemy whom I had offended. But you had the rashness of folly as well as of heroism. A false opinion conceived of your enemy's weakness proved at last your undoing. When, in answer to some reasonable propositions of peace sent to you by the Czar, you said, \"You would come and treat with him at Moscow,\" he replied very justly, \"That you affected to act like Alexander, but should not find in him a Darius.\" And, doubtless, you ought to have been better acquainted with the character of that prince. Had Persia been governed by a Peter Alexowitz when I made war against it, I should have acted more cautiously, and not have counted so much on the superiority of my troops in valour and discipline over an army commanded by a king who was so capable of instructing them in all they wanted. Charles.The battle of Narva, won by eight thousand Swedes against fourscore thousand Muscovites, seemed to authorise my contempt of the nation and their prince. Alexander.It happened that their prince was not present in that battle. But he had not as yet had the time which was necessary to instruct his barbarous soldiers. You gave him that time, and he made so good a use of it that you found at Pultowa the Muscovites become a different nation. If you had followed the blow you gave them at Narva, and marched directly to Moscow, you might have destroyed their Hercules in his cradle. But you suffered him to grow till his strength was mature, and then acted as if he had been still in his childhood. Charles.I must confess you excelled me in conduct, in policy, and in true magnanimity. But my liberality was not inferior to yours; and neither you nor any mortal ever surpassed me in the enthusiasm of courage. I was also free from those vices which sullied your character. I never was drunk; I killed no friend in the riot of a feast; I fired no palace at the instigation of a harlot. Alexander.It may perhaps be admitted, as some excuse for my drunkenness, that the Persians esteemed it an excellence in their kings to be able to drink a great quantity of wine, and the Macedonians were far from thinking it a dishonour. But you were as frantic and as cruel when sober as I was when drunk. You were sober when you resolved to continue in Turkey against the will of your host, the Grand Signor. You were sober when you commanded the unfortunate Patkull, whose only crime was his having maintained the liberties of his country, and who bore the sacred character of an ambassador, to be broken alive on the wheel, against the laws of nations, and those of humanity, more inviolable still to a generous mind. You were likewise sober when you wrote to the Senate of Sweden, who, upon a report of your death, endeavoured to take some care of your kingdom, that you would send them one of your boots, and from that they should receive their orders if they pretended to meddle in governmentan insult much worse than any the Macedonians complained of from me when I was most heated with wine and with adulation. As for my chastity, it was not so perfect as yours, though on some occasions I obtained great praise for my continence; but, perhaps, if you had been not quite so insensible to the charms of the fair sex, it would have mitigated and softened the fierceness, the pride, and the obstinacy of your nature. Charles.It would have softened me into a woman, or, what I think still more contemptible, the slave of a woman. But you seem to insinuate that you never were cruel or frantic unless when you were drunk. This I absolutely deny. You were not drunk when you crucified Hephaestion's physician for not curing a man who killed himself by his intemperance in his sickness, nor when you sacrificed to the manes of that favourite officer the whole nation of the Cusseansmen, women, and childrenwho were entirely innocent of his deathbecause you had read in Homer that Achilles had immolated some Trojan captives on the tomb of Patroclus. I could mention other proofs that your passions inflamed you as much as wine, but these are sufficient. Alexander.I can't deny that my passions were sometimes so violent as to deprive me for a while of the use of my reason; especially when the pride of such amazing successes, the servitude of the Persians, and barbarian flattery had intoxicated my mind. To bear at my age, with continual moderation, such fortune as mine, was hardly in human nature. As for you, there was an excess and intemperance in your virtues which turned them all into vices. And one virtue you wanted, which in a prince is very commendable and beneficial to the publicI mean, the love of science and of the elegant arts. Under my care and patronage they were carried in Greece to their utmost perfection. Aristotle, Apelles, and Lysippus were among the glories of my reign. Yours was illustrated only by battles. Upon the whole, though, from some resemblance between us I should naturally be inclined to decide in your favour, yet I must give the priority in renown to your enemy, Peter Alexowitz. That great monarch raised his country; you ruined yours. He was a legislator; you were a tyrant. DIALOGUE XXI. CARDINAL XIMENESCARDINAL WOLSEY. Wolsey.You seem to look on me, Ximenes, with an air of superiority, as if I was not your equal. Have you forgotten that I was the favourite and first Minister of a great King of England? that I was at once Lord High Chancellor, Bishop of Durham, Bishop of Winchester, Archbishop of York, and Cardinal Legate? On what other subject were ever accumulated so many dignities, such honours, such power? Ximenes.In order to prove yourself my equal, you are pleased to tell me what you had, not what you did. But it is not the having great offices, it is the doing great things, that makes a great Minister. I know that for some years you governed the mind of King Henry VIII., and consequently his kingdom, with the most absolute sway. Let me ask you, then, What were the acts of your reign? Wolsey.My acts were those of a very skilful courtier and able politician. I managed a temper which nature had made the most difficult to manage of any perhaps that ever existed, with such consummate address that all its passions were rendered entirely subservient to my inclinations. In foreign affairs I turned the arms of my master or disposed of his friendship, whichever way my own interest happened to direct. It was not with him, but with me, that treaties were made by the Emperor or by France; and none were concluded during my Ministry that did not contain some Article in my favour, besides secret assurances of aiding my ambition or resentment, which were the real springs of all my negotiations. At home I brought the pride of the English nobility, which had resisted the greatest of the Plantagenets, to bow submissively to the son of a butcher of Ipswich. And, as my power was royal, my state and magnificence were suitable to it; my buildings, my furniture, my household, my equipage, my liberalities, and my charities were above the rank of a subject. Ximenes.From all you have said I understand that you gained great advantages for yourself in the course of your Ministrytoo great, indeed, for a good man to desire, or a wise man to accept. But what did you do for your sovereign and for the State? You make me no answer. What I did is well known. I was not content with forcing the arrogance of the Spanish nobility to stoop to my power, but used that power to free the people from their oppressions. In you they respected the royal authority; I made them respect the majesty of the laws. I also relieved my countrymen, the commons of Castile, from a most grievous burden, by an alteration in the method of collecting their taxes. After the death of Isabella I preserved the tranquillity of Aragon and Castile by procuring the regency of the latter for Ferdinand, a wise and valiant prince, though he had not been my friend during the life of the queen. And when after his decease I was raised to the regency by the general esteem and affection of the Castilians, I administered the government with great courage, firmness, and prudence; with the most perfect disinterestedness in regard to myself, and most zealous concern for the public. I suppressed all the factions which threatened to disturb the peace of that kingdom in the minority and the absence of the young king; and prevented the discontents of the commons of Castile, too justly incensed against the Flemish Ministers, who governed their prince and rapaciously pillaged their country, from breaking out during my life into open rebellion, as they did, most unhappily, soon after my death. These were my civil acts; but, to complete the renown of my administration, I added to it the palm of military glory. At my own charges, and myself commanding the army, I conquered Oran from the Moors, and annexed it, with its territory, to the Spanish dominions. Wolsey.My soul was as elevated and noble as yours, my understanding as strong, and more refined; but the difference of our conduct arose from the difference of our objects. To raise your reputation and secure your power in Castile, by making that kingdom as happy and as great as you could, was your object. Mine was to procure the Triple Crown for myself by the assistance of my sovereign and of the greatest foreign Powers. Each of us took the means that were evidently most proper to the accomplishment of his ends. Ximenes.Can you confess such a principle of your conduct without a blush? But you will at least be ashamed that you failed in your purpose, and were the dupe of the Powers with whom you negotiated, after having dishonoured the character of your master in order to serve your own ambition. I accomplished my desire with glory to my sovereign and advantage to my country. Besides this difference, there was a great one in the methods by which we acquired our power. We both owed it, indeed, to the favour of princes; but I gained Isabella's by the opinion she had of my piety and integrity. You gained Henry's by a complaisance and course of life which were a reproach to your character and sacred orders. Wolsey.I did not, as you, Ximenes, did, carry with me to Court the austerity of a monk; nor, if I had done so, could I possibly have gained any influence there. Isabella and Henry were different characters, and their favour was to be sought in different ways. By making myself agreeable to the latter, I so governed his passions, unruly as they were, that while I lived they did not produce any of those dreadful effects which after my death were caused by them in his family and kingdom. Ximenes.If Henry VIII., your master, had been King of Castile, I would never have been drawn by him out of my cloister. A man of virtue and spirit will not be prevailed with to go into a Court where he cannot rise without baseness. Wolsey.The inflexibility of your mind had like to have ruined you in some of your measures; and the bigotry which you had derived from your long abode in a cloister, and retained when a Minister, was very near depriving the Crown of Castile of the newconquered kingdom of Granada by the revolt of the Moors in that city, whom you had prematurely forced to change their religion. Do you not remember how angry King Ferdinand was with you on that account? Ximenes.I do, and must acknowledge that my zeal was too intemperate in all that proceeding. Wolsey.My worst complaisances to King Henry VIII. were far less hurtful to England than the unjust and inhuman Court of Inquisition, which you established in Granada to watch over the faith of your unwilling converts, has been to Spain. Ximenes.I only revived and settled in Granada an ancient tribunal, instituted first by one of our saints against the Albigenses, and gave it greater powers. The mischiefs which have attended it cannot be denied; but if any force may be used for the maintenance of religion (and the Church of Rome has, you know, declared authoritatively that it may) none could be so effectual to answer the purpose. Wolsey.This is an argument rather against the opinion of the Church than for the Inquisition. I will only say I think myself very happy that my administration was stained with no action of cruelty, not even cruelty sanctified by the name of religion. My temper indeed, which influenced my conduct more than my principles, was much milder than yours. To the proud I was proud, but to my friends and inferiors benevolent and humane. Had I succeeded in the great object of my ambition, had I acquired the Popedom, I should have governed the Church with more moderation and better sense than probably you would have done if you had exchanged the See of Toledo for that of Rome. My goodnature, my policy, my taste for magnificence, my love of the fine arts, of wit, and of learning, would have made me the delight of all the Italians, and have given me a rank among the greatest princes. Whereas in you the sour bigot and rigid monk would too much have prevailed over the prince and the statesman. Ximenes.What either of us would have been in that situation does not appear; but, if you are compared to me as a Minister, you are vastly inferior. The only circumstance in which you can justly pretend to any equality is the encouragement you gave to learning and your munificence in promoting it, which was indeed very great. Your two colleges founded at Ipswich and Oxford may vie with my University at Alcala de Henara. But in our generosity there was this differenceall my revenues were spent in wellplaced liberalities, in acts of charity, piety, and virtue; whereas a great part of your enormous wealth was squandered away in luxury and vain ostentation. With regard to all other points, my superiority is apparent. You were only a favourite; I was the friend and the father of the people. You served yourself; I served the State. The conclusion of our lives was also much more honourable to me than you. Wolsey.Did not you die, as I did, in disgrace with your master? Ximenes.That disgrace was brought upon me by a faction of foreigners, to whose power, as a good Spaniard, I would not submit. A Minister who falls a victim to such an opposition rises by his fall. Yours was not graced by any public cause, any merit to the nation. Your spirit, therefore, sank under it; you bore it with meanness. Mine was unbroken, superior to my enemies, superior to fortune, and I died, as I had lived, with undiminished dignity and greatness of mind. DIALOGUE XXII. LUCIANRABELAIS. Lucian.Friend Rabelais, well metour souls are very good company for one another; we both were great wits and most audacious freethinkers. We laughed often at folly, and sometimes at wisdom. I was, indeed, more correct and more elegant in my style; but then, in return, you had a greater fertility of imagination. My \"True History\" is much inferior, in fancy and invention, in force of wit and keenness of satire, to your \"History of the Acts of Gargantua and Pantagruel.\" Rabelais.You do me great honour; but I may say, without vanity, that both those compositions entitle the authors of them to a very distinguished place among memoirwriters, travellers, and even historians, ancient and modern. Lucian.Doubtless they do; but will you pardon me if I ask you one question? Why did you choose to write such absolute nonsense as you have in some places of your illustrious work? Rabelais.I was forced to compound my physic for the mind with a large dose of nonsense in order to make it go down. To own the truth to you, if I had not so frequently put on the fool'scap, the freedoms I took in other places with cowls, with Red Hats, and the Triple Crown itself, would have brought me into great danger. Not only my book, but I myself, should, in all probability, have been condemned to the flames; and martyrdom was an honour to which I never aspired. I therefore counterfeited folly, like Junius Brutus, from the wisest of all principlesthat of selfpreservation. You, Lucian, had no need to use so much caution. Your heathen priests desired only a sacrifice now and then from an Epicurean as a mark of conformity, and kindly allowed him to make as free as he pleased, in conversation or writings, with the whole tribe of gods and goddessesfrom the thundering Jupiter and the scolding Juno, down to the dog Anubis and the fragrant dame Cloacina. Lucian.Say rather that our Government allowed us that liberty; for I assure you our priests were by no means pleased with itat least, they were not in my time. Rabelais.The wiser men they; for, in spite of the conformity required by the laws and enforced by the magistrate, that ridicule brought the system of pagan theology into contempt, not only with the philosophical part of mankind, but even with the vulgar. Lucian.It did so, and the ablest defenders of paganism were forced to give up the poetical fables and allegorise the whole. Rabelais.An excellent way of drawing sense out of absurdity, and grave instructions from lewdness. There is a great modern wit, Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, who in his treatise entitled \"The Wisdom of the Ancients\" has done more for you that way than all your own priests. Lucian.He has indeed shown himself an admirable chemist, and made a fine transmutation of folly into wisdom. But all the later Platonists took the same method of defending our faith when it was attacked by the Christians; and certainly a more judicious one could not be found. Our fables say that in one of their wars with the Titans the gods were defeated, and forced to turn themselves into beasts in order to escape from the conquerors. Just the reverse happened here, for by this happy art our beastly divinities were turned again into rational beings. Rabelais.Give me a good commentator, with a subtle, refining, philosophical head, and you shall have the edification of seeing him draw the most sublime allegories and the most venerable mystic truths from my history of the noble Gargantua and Pantagruel. I don't despair of being proved, to the entire satisfaction of some future ape, to have been, without exception, the profoundest divine and metaphysician that ever yet held a pen. Lucian.I shall rejoice to see you advanced to that honour. But in the meantime I may take the liberty to consider you as one of our class. There you sit very high. Rabelais.I am afraid there is another, and a modern author too, whom you would bid to sit above me, and but just below yourselfI mean Dr. Swift. Lucian.It was not necessary for him to throw so much nonsense into his history of Lemuel Gulliver as you did into that of your two illustrious heroes; and his style is far more correct than yours. His wit never descended, as yours frequently did, into the lowest of taverns, nor ever wore the meanest garb of the vulgar. Rabelais.If the garb which it wore was not as mean, I am certain it was sometimes as dirty as mine. Lucian.It was not always nicely clean; yet, in comparison with you, he was decent and elegant. But whether there was not in your compositions more fire, and a more comic spirit, I will not determine. Rabelais.If you will not determine it, e'en let it remain a matter in dispute, as I have left the great question, Whether Panurge should marry or not? I would as soon undertake to measure the difference between the height and bulk of the giant Gargantua and his Brobdignagian Majesty, as the difference of merit between my writings and Swift's. If any man takes a fancy to like my book, let him freely enjoy the entertainment it gives him, and drink to my memory in a bumper. If another likes Gulliver, let him toast Dr. Swift. Were I upon earth I would pledge him in a bumper, supposing the wine to be good. If a third likes neither of us, let him silently pass the bottle and be quiet. Lucian.But what if he will not be quiet? A critic is an unquiet creature. Rabelais.Why, then he will disturb himself, not me. Lucian.You are a greater philosopher than I thought you. I knew you paid no respect to Popes or kings, but to pay none to critics is, in an author, a magnanimity beyond all example. Rabelais.My life was a farce; my death was a farce; and would you have me make my book a serious affair? As for you, though in general you are only a joker, yet sometimes you must be ranked among grave authors. You have written sage and learned dissertations on history and other weighty matters. The critics have therefore an undoubted right to maul you; they find you in their province. But if any of them dare to come into mine, I will order Gargantua to swallow them up, as he did the six pilgrims, in the next salad he eats. Lucian.Have I not heard that you wrote a very good serious book on the aphorisms of Hippocrates? Rabelais.Upon my faith I had forgot it. I am so used to my fool's coat that I don't know myself in my solemn doctor's gown. But your information was right; that book was indeed a very respectable work. Yet nobody reads it; and if I had writ nothing else, I should have been reckoned, at best, a lackey to Hippocrates, whereas the historian of Panurge is an eminent writer. Plain good sense, like a dish of solid beef or mutton, is proper only for peasants; but a ragout of folly, well dressed with a sharp sauce of wit, is fit to be served up at an emperor's table. Lucian.You are an admirable pleasant fellow. Let me embrace you. How Apollo and the Muses may rank you on Parnassus I am not very certain; but, if I were Master of the Ceremonies on Mount Olympus, you should be placed, with a full bowl of nectar before you, at the right hand of Momus. Rabelais.I wish you were; but I fear the inhabitants of those sublime regions will like your company no better than mine. Indeed, how Momus himself could get a seat at that table I can't well comprehend. It has been usual, I confess, in some of our Courts upon earth, to have a privileged jester, called the king's fool. But in the Court of Heaven one should not have supposed such an officer as Jupiter's fool. Your allegorical theology in this point is very abstruse. Lucian.I think our priests admitted Momus into our heaven, as the Indians are said to worship the devil, through fear. They had a mind to keep fair with him. For we may talk of the giants as much as we please, but to our gods there is no enemy so formidable as he. Ridicule is the terror of all false religion. Nothing but truth can stand its lash. Rabelais.Truth, advantageously set in a good and fair light, can stand any attacks; but those of Ridicule are so teasing and so fallacious that I have seen them put her ladyship very much out of humour. Lucian.Ay, friend Rabelais, and sometimes out of countenance too. But Truth and Wit in confederacy will strike Momus dumb. United they are invincible, and such a union is necessary upon certain occasions. False Reasoning is most effectually exposed by Plain Sense; but Wit is the best opponent to False Ridicule, as Just Ridicule is to all the absurdities which dare to assume the venerable names of Philosophy or Religion. Had we made such a proper use of our agreeable talents; had we employed our ridicule to strip the foolish faces of Superstition, Fanaticism, and Dogmatical Pride of the serious and solemn masks with which they are covered, at the same time exerting all the sharpness of our wit to combat the flippancy and pertness of those who argue only by jests against reason and evidence in points of the highest and most serious concern, we should have much better merited the esteem of mankind. DIALOGUE XXIII. PERICLESCOSMO DE MEDICIS, THE FIRST OF THAT NAME. Pericles.In what I have heard of your character and your fortune, illustrious Cosmo, I find a most remarkable resemblance with mine. We both lived in republics where the sovereign power was in the people; and by mere civil arts, but more especially by our eloquence, attained, without any force, to such a degree of authority that we ruled those tumultuous and stormy democracies with an absolute sway, turned the tempests which agitated them upon the heads of our enemies, and after having long and prosperously conducted the greatest affairs in war and peace, died revered and lamented by all our fellowcitizens. Cosmo.We have indeed an equal right to value ourselves on that noblest of empires, the empire we gained over the minds of our countrymen. Force or caprice may give power, but nothing can give a lasting authority except wisdom and virtue. By these we obtained, by these we preserved, in our respective countries, a dominion unstained by usurpation or blooda dominion conferred on us by the public esteem and the public affection. We were in reality sovereigns, while we lived with the simplicity of private men; and Athens and Florence believed themselves to be free, though they obeyed all our dictates. This is more than was done by Philip of Macedon, or Sylla, or Caesar. It is the perfection of policy to tame the fierce spirit of popular liberty, not by blows or by chains, but by soothing it into a voluntary obedience, and bringing it to lick the hand that restrains it. Pericles.The task can never be easy, but the difficulty was still greater to me than to you. For I had a lion to tame, from whose intractable fury the greatest men of my country, and of the whole world, with all their wisdom and virtue, could not save themselves. Themistocles and Aristides were examples of terror that might well have deterred me from the administration of public affairs at Athens. Another impediment in my way was the power of Cimon, who for his goodness, his liberality, and the lustre of his victories over the Persians was much beloved by the people, and at the same time, by being thought to favour aristocracy, had all the noble and rich citizens devoted to his party. It seemed impossible to shake so well established a greatness. Yet by the charms and force of my eloquence, which exceeded that of all orators contemporary with me; by the integrity of my life, my moderation, and my prudence; but, above all, by my artful management of the people, whose power I increased that I might render it the basis and support of my own, I gained such an ascendant over all my opponents that, having first procured the banishment of Cimon by ostracism, and then of Thucydides, another formidable antagonist set up by the nobles against my authority, I became the unrivalled chief, or rather the monarch, of the Athenian Republic, without ever putting to death, in above forty years that my administration continued, one of my fellowcitizens; a circumstance which I declared, when I lay on my deathbed, to be, in my own judgment, more honourable to me than all my prosperity in the government of the State, or the nine trophies erected for so many victories obtained by my conduct. Cosmo.I had also the same happiness to boast of at my death. And some additions were made to the territories of Florence under my government; but I myself was no soldier, and the Commonwealth I directed was never either so warlike or so powerful as Athens. I must, therefore, not pretend to vie with you in the lustre of military glory; and I will moreover acknowledge that, to govern a people whose spirit and pride were exalted by the wonderful victories of Marathon, Mycale, Salamis, and Plataea, was much more difficult than to rule the Florentines and the Tuscans. The liberty of the Athenians was in your time more imperious, more haughty, more insolent, than the despotism of the King of Persia. How great, then, must have been your ability and address that could so absolutely reduce it under your power! Yet the temper of my countrymen was not easy to govern, for it was exceedingly factious. The history of Florence is little else, for several ages, than an account of conspiracies against the State. In my youth I myself suffered much by the dissensions which then embroiled the Republic. I was imprisoned and banished, but after the course of some years my enemies, in their turn, were driven into exile. I was brought back in triumph, and from that time till my death, which was above thirty years, I governed the Florentines, not by arms or evil arts of tyrannical power, but with a legal authority, which I exercised so discreetly as to gain the esteem of all the neighbouring potentates, and such a constant affection of all my fellowcitizens that an inscription, which gave me the title of Father of my Country, was engraved on my monument by an unanimous decree of the whole Commonwealth. Pericles.Your end was incomparably more happy than mine. For you died rather of age than any violent illness, and left the Florentines in a state of peace and prosperity procured for them by your counsels. But I died of the plague, after having seen it almost depopulate Athens, and left my country engaged in a most dangerous war, to which my advice and the power of my eloquence had excited the people. The misfortune of the pestilence, with the inconveniences they suffered on account of the war, so irritated their minds, that not long before my death they condemned me to a fine. Cosmo.It is wonderful that, when once their anger was raised, it went no further against you! A favourite of the people, when disgraced, is in still greater danger than a favourite of a king. Pericles.Your surprise will increase at hearing that very soon afterwards they chose me their general, and conferred on me again the principal direction of all their affairs. Had I lived I should have so conducted the war as to have ended it with advantage and honour to my country. For, having secured to her the sovereignty of the sea by the defeat of the Samians, before I let her engage with the power of Sparta, I knew that our enemies would be at length wearied out and compelled to sue for a peace, because the city, from the strength of its fortifications and the great army within it, being on the land side impregnable to the Spartans, and drawing continual supplies from the sea, suffered not much by their ravages of the country about it, from whence I had before removed all the inhabitants; whereas their allies were undone by the descents we made on their coasts. Cosmo.You seem to have understood beyond all other men what advantages are to be drawn from a maritime power, and how to make it the surest foundation of empire. Pennies.I followed the plan, traced out by Themistocles, the ablest politician that Greece had ever produced. Nor did I begin the Peloponnesian War (as some have supposed) only to make myself necessary, and stop an inquiry into my public accounts. I really thought that the Republic of Athens could no longer defer a contest with Sparta, without giving up to that State the precedence in the direction of Greece and her own independence. To keep off for some time even a necessary war, with a probable hope of making it more advantageously at a favourable opportunity, is an act of true wisdom; but not to make it, when you see that your enemy will be strengthened, and your own advantages lost or considerably lessened, by the delay, is a most pernicious imprudence. With relation to my accounts, I had nothing to fear. I had not embezzled one drachma of public money, nor added one to my own paternal estate; and the people had placed so entire a confidence in me that they had allowed me, against the usual forms of their government, to dispose of large sums for secret service, without account. When, therefore, I advised the Peloponnesian War, I neither acted from private views, nor with the inconsiderate temerity of a restless ambition, but as became a wise statesman, who, having weighed all the dangers that may attend a great enterprise, and seeing a reasonable hope of good success, makes it his option to fight for dominion and glory, rather than sacrifice both to the uncertain possession of an insecure peace. Cosmo.How were you sure of inducing so volatile a people to persevere in so steady a system of conduct as that which you had laid downa system attended with much inconvenience and loss to particulars, while it presented but little to strike or inflame the imagination of the public? Bold and arduous enterprises, great battles, much bloodshed, and a speedy decision, are what the multitude desire in every war; but your plan of operation was the reverse of all this, and the execution of it required the temper of the Thebans rather than of the Athenians. Pericles.I found, indeed, many symptoms of their impatience, but I was able to restrain it by the authority I had gained; for during my whole Ministry I never had stooped to court their favour by any unworthy means, never flattered them in their follies, nor complied with their passions against their true interests and my own better judgment; but used the power of my eloquence to keep them in the bounds of a wise moderation, to raise their spirits when too low, and show them their danger when they grew too presumptuous, the good effects of which conduct they had happily experienced in all their affairs. Whereas those who succeeded to me in the government, by their incapacity, their corruption, and their servile complaisance to the humour of the people, presently lost all the fruits of my virtue and prudence. Xerxes himself, I am convinced, did not suffer more by the flattery of his courtiers than the Athenians, after my decease, by that of their orators and Ministers of State. Cosmo.Those orators could not gain the favour of the people by any other methods. Your arts were more noblethey were the arts of a statesman and of a prince. Your magnificent buildings (which in beauty of architecture surpassed any the world had ever seen), the statues of Phidias, the paintings of Zeuxis, the protection you gave to knowledge, genius, and abilities of every kind, added as much to the glory of Athens as to your popularity. And in this I may boast of an equal merit to Florence. For I embellished that city and the whole country about it with excellent buildings; I protected all arts; and, though I was not myself so eloquent or so learned as you, I no less encouraged those who were eminent in my time for their eloquence or their learning. Marcilius Ficinus, the second father of the Platonic philosophy, lived in my house, and conversed with me as intimately as Anaxagoras with you. Nor did I ever forget and suffer him so to want the necessaries of life as you did Anaxagoras, who had like to have perished by that unfriendly neglect; but to secure him at all times from any distress in his circumstances, and enable him to pursue his sublime speculations unmolested by low cares, I gave him an estate adjacent to one of my favourite villas. I also drew to Florence Argiropolo, the most learned Greek of those times, that, under my patronage, he might teach the Florentine youth the language and sciences of his country. But with regard to our buildings, there is this remarkable differenceyours were all raised at the expense of the public, mine at my own. Pericles.My estate would bear no profuseness, nor allow me to exert the generosity of my nature. Your wealth exceeded that of any particular, or indeed of any prince who lived in your days. The vast commerce which, after the example of your ancestors, you continued to carry on in all parts of the world, even while you presided at the helm of the State, enabled you to do those splendid acts which rendered your name so illustrious. But I was constrained to make the public treasure the fund of my bounties; and I thought I could not possibly dispose of it better in time of peace than in finding employment for that part of the people which must else have been idle and useless to the community, introducing into Greece all the elegant arts, and adorning my country with works that are an honour to human nature; for, while I attended the most to these civil and peaceful occupations, I did not neglect to provide, with timely care, against war, nor suffer the nation to sink into luxury and effeminate softness. I kept our fleets in continual exercise, maintained a great number of seamen in constant pay, and disciplined well our land forces. Nor did I ever cease to recommend to all the Athenians, both by precepts and example, frugality, temperance, magnanimity, fortitude, and whatever could most effectually contribute to strengthen their bodies and minds. Cosmo.Yet I have heard you condemned for rendering the people less sober and modest, by giving them a share of the conquered lands, and paying them wages for their necessary attendance in the public assemblies and other civil functions; but more especially for the vast and superfluous expense you entailed on the State in the theatrical spectacles with which you entertained them at the cost of the public. Pericles.Perhaps I may have been too lavish in some of those bounties. Yet in a popular State it is necessary that the people should be amused, and should so far partake of the opulence of the public as not to suffer any want, which would render their minds too low and sordid for their political duties. In my time the revenues of Athens were sufficient to bear this charge; but afterwards, when we had lost the greatest part of our empire, it became, I must confess, too heavy a burden, and the continuance of it proved one cause of our ruin. Cosmo.It is a most dangerous thing to load the State with largesses of that nature, or indeed with any unnecessary but popular charges, because to reduce them is almost impossible, though the circumstances of the public should necessarily demand a reduction. But did not you likewise, in order to advance your own greatness, throw into the hands of the people of Athens more power than the institutions of Solon had entrusted them with, and more than was consistent with the good of the State? Pericles.We are now in the regions where Truth presides, and I dare not offend her by playing the orator in defence of my conduct. I must therefore acknowledge that, by weakening the power of the court of Areopagus, I tore up that anchor which Solon had wisely fixed to keep his Republic firm against the storms and fluctuations of popular factions. This alteration, which fundamentally injured the whole State, I made with a view to serve my own ambition, the only passion in my nature which I could not contain within the limits of virtue. For I knew that my eloquence would subject the people to me, and make them the willing instruments of all my desires; whereas the Areopagus had in it an authority and a dignity which I could not control. Thus by diminishing the counterpoise our Constitution had settled to moderate the excess of popular power, I augmented my own. But since my death I have been often reproached by the Shades of some of the most virtuous and wisest Athenians, who have fallen victims to the caprice or fury of the people, with having been the first cause of the injustice they suffered, and of all the mischiefs perpetually brought on my country by rash undertakings, bad conduct, and fluctuating councils. They say, I delivered up the State to the government of indiscreet or venal orators, and to the passions of a misguided, infatuated multitude, who thought their freedom consisted in encouraging calumnies against the best servants of the Commonwealth, and conferring power upon those who had no other merit than falling in with and soothing a popular folly. It is useless for me to plead that, during my life, none of these mischiefs were felt; that I employed my rhetoric to promote none but good and wise measures; that I was as free from any taint of avarice or corruption as Aristides himself. They reply that I am answerable for all the great evils occasioned afterwards by the want of that salutary restraint on the natural levity and extravagance of a democracy, which I had taken away. Socrates calls me the patron of Anytus, and Solon himself frowns upon me whenever we meet. Cosmo.Solon has reason to do so; for tell me, Pericles, what opinion would you have of the architect you employed in your buildings if he had made them to last no longer than during the term of your life? Pericles.The answer to your question will turn to your own condemnation. Your excessive liberalities to the indigent citizens, and the great sums you lent to all the noble families, did in reality buy the Republic of Florence, and gave your family such a power as enabled them to convert it from a popular State into an absolute monarchy. Cosmo.The Florentines were so infested with discord and faction, and their commonwealth was so void of military virtue, that they could not have long been exempt from a more ignominious subjection to some foreign Power if those internal dissensions, with the confusion and anarchy they produced, had continued. But the Athenians had performed very glorious exploits, had obtained a great empire, and were become one of the noblest States in the world, before you altered the balance of their government. And after that alteration they declined very fast, till they lost all their greatness. Pericles.Their constitution had originally a foul blemish in itI mean, the ban of ostracism, which alone would have been sufficient to undo any State. For there is nothing of such important use to a nation as that men who most excel in wisdom and virtue should be encouraged to undertake the business of government. But this detestable custom deterred such men from serving the public, or, if they ventured to do so, turned even their own wisdom and virtue against them; so that in Athens it was safer to be infamous than renowned. We are told indeed, by the advocates for this strange institution, that it was not a punishment, but meant as a guard to the equality and liberty of the State; for which reason they deem it an honour done to the persons against whom it was used; as if words could change the real nature of things, and make a banishment of ten years, inflicted on a good citizen by the suffrages of his countrymen, no evil to him, or no offence against justice and the natural right every freeman may claimthat he shall not be expelled from any society of which he is a member without having first been proved guilty of some criminal action. Cosmo.The ostracism was indeed a most unpardonable fault in the Athenian constitution. It placed envy in the seat of justice, and gave to private malice and public ingratitude a legal right to do wrong. Other nations are blamed for tolerating vice, but the Athenians alone would not tolerate virtue. Pericles.The friends to the ostracism say that too eminent virtue destroys that equality which is the safeguard of freedom. Cosmo.No State is well modelled if it cannot preserve itself from the danger of tyranny without a grievous violation of natural justice; nor would a friend to true freedom, which consists in being governed not by men but by laws, desire to live in a country where a Cleon bore rule, and where an Aristides was not suffered to remain. But, instead of remedying this evil, you made it worse. You rendered the people more intractable, more adverse to virtue, less subject to the laws, and more to impressions from mischievous demagogues, than they had been before your time. Pericles.In truth, I did so; and therefore my place in Elysium, notwithstanding the integrity of my whole public conduct, and the great virtues I excited, is much below the rank of those who have governed commonwealths or limited monarchies, not merely with a concern for their present advantage, but also with a prudent regard to that balance of power on which their permanent happiness must necessarily depend. DIALOGUE XXIV. LOCKEBAYLE. Bayle.Yes, we both were philosophers; but my philosophy was the deepest. You dogmatised; I doubted. Locke.Do you make doubting a proof of depth in philosophy? It may be a good beginning of it, but it is a bad end. Bayle.No; the more profound our searches are into the nature of things, the more uncertainty we shall find; and the most subtle minds see objections and difficulties in every system which are overlooked or undiscoverable by ordinary understandings. Locke.It would be better, then, to be no philosopher, and to continue in the vulgar herd of mankind, that one may have the convenience of thinking that one knows something. I find that the eyes which Nature has given me see many things very clearly, though some are out of their reach, or discerned but dimly. What opinion ought I to have of a physician who should offer me an eyewater, the use of which would at first so sharpen my sight as to carry it farther than ordinary vision, but would in the end put them out? Your philosophy, Monsieur Bayle, is to the eyes of the mind what I have supposed the doctor's nostrum to be to those of the body. It actually brought your own excellent understanding, which was by nature quicksighted, and rendered more so by art and a subtlety of logic peculiar to yourselfit brought, I say, your very acute understanding to see nothing clearly, and enveloped all the great truths of reason and religion in mists of doubt. Bayle.I own it did; but your comparison is not just. I did not see well before I used my philosophic eyewater. I only supposed I saw well; but I was in an error, with all the rest of mankind. The blindness was real; the perceptions were imaginary. I cured myself first of those false imaginations, and then I laudably endeavoured to cure other men. Locke.A great cure, indeed! and don't you think that, in return for the service you did them, they ought to erect you a statue? Bayle.Yes; it is good for human nature to know its own weakness. When we arrogantly presume on a strength we have not, we are always in great danger of hurting ourselvesor, at least, of deserving ridicule and contempt by vain and idle efforts. Locke.I agree with you that human nature should know its own weakness; but it should also feel its strength, and try to improve it. This was my employment as a philosopher. I endeavoured to discover the real powers of the mind; to see what it could do, and what it could not; to restrain it from efforts beyond its ability, but to teach it how to advance as far as the faculties given to it by Nature, with the utmost exertion and most proper culture of them, would allow it to go. In the vast ocean of philosophy I had the line and the plummet always in my hands. Many of its depths I found myself unable to fathom; but by caution in sounding, and the careful observations I made in the course of my voyage, I found out some truths of so much use to mankind that they acknowledge me to have been their benefactor. Bayle.Their ignorance makes them think so. Some other philosopher will come hereafter, and show those truths to be falsehoods. He will pretend to discover other truths of equal importance. A later sage will arise, perhaps among men now barbarous and unlearned, whose sagacious discoveries will discredit the opinions of his admired predecessor. In philosophy, as in Nature, all changes its form, and one thing exists by the destruction of another. Locke.Opinions taken up without a patient investigation, depending on terms not accurately defined, and principles begged without proof, like theories to explain the phenomena of Nature built on suppositions instead of experiments, must perpetually change and destroy one another. But some opinions there are, even in matters not obvious to the common sense of mankind, which the mind has received on such rational grounds of assent that they are as immovable as the pillars of heaven, or (to speak philosophically) as the great laws of Nature, by which, under God, the universe is sustained. Can you seriously think that because the hypothesis of your countryman Descartes, which was nothing but an ingenious, wellimagined romance, has been lately exploded, the system of Newton, which is built on experiments and geometrythe two most certain methods of discovering truthwill ever fail? Or that, because the whims of fanatics and the divinity of the schoolmen cannot now be supported, the doctrines of that religion which I, the declared enemy of all enthusiasm and false reasoning, firmly believed and maintained, will ever be shaken? Bayle.If you had asked Descartes, while he was in the height of his vogue, whether his system would be ever confuted by any other philosopher's, as that of Aristotle had been by his, what answer do you suppose he would have returned? Locke.Come, come, Monsieur Bayle, you yourself know the difference between the foundations on which the credit of those systems and that of Newton is placed. Your scepticism is more affected than real. You found it a shorter way to a great reputation (the only wish of your heart) to object than to defend, to pull down than to set up. And your talents were admirable for that kind of work. Then your huddling together in a critical dictionary a pleasant tale, or obscene jest, and a grave argument against the Christian religion, a witty confutation of some absurd author, and an artful sophism to impeach some respectable truth, was particularly commodious to all our young smarts and smatterers in freethinking. But what mischief have you not done to human society! You have endeavoured, and with some degree of success, to shake those foundations on which the whole moral world and the great fabric of social happiness entirely rest. How could you, as a philosopher, in the sober hours of reflection, answer for this to your conscience, even supposing you had doubts of the truth of a system which gives to virtue its sweetest hopes, to impenitent vice its greatest fears, and to true penitence its best consolations; which restrains even the least approaches to guilt, and yet makes those allowances for the infirmities of our nature which the stoic pride denied to it, but which its real imperfection and the goodness of its infinitely benevolent Creator so evidently require? Bayle.The mind is free, and it loves to exert its freedom. Any restraint upon it is a violence done to its nature, and a tyranny against which it has a right to rebel. Locke.The mind, though free, has a governor within itself, which may and ought to limit the exercise of its freedom. That governor is reason. Bayle.Yes; but reason, like other governors, has a policy more dependent upon uncertain caprice than upon any fixed laws. And if that reason which rules my mind or yours has happened to set up a favourite notion, it not only submits implicitly to it, but desires that the same respect should be paid to it by all the rest of mankind. Now I hold that any man may lawfully oppose this desire in another; and that if he is wise, he will do his utmost endeavours to check it in himself. Locke.Is there not also a weakness of a contrary nature to this you are now ridiculing? Do we not often take a pleasure to show our own power and gratify our own pride by degrading notions set up by other men and generally respected? Bayle.I believe we do; and by this means it often happens that if one man builds and consecrates a temple to folly, another pulls it down. Locke.Do you think it beneficial to human society to have all temples pulled down? Bayle.I cannot say that I do. Locke.Yet I find not in your writings any mark of distinction to show us which you mean to save. Bayle.A true philosopher, like an impartial historian, must be of no sect. Locke.Is there no medium between the blind zeal of a sectary and a total indifference to all religion? Bayle.With regard to morality I was not indifferent. Locke.How could you, then, be indifferent with regard to the sanctions religion gives to morality? How could you publish what tends so directly and apparently to weaken in mankind the belief of those sanctions? Was not this sacrificing the great interests of virtue to the little motives of vanity? Bayle.A man may act indiscreetly, but he cannot do wrong, by declaring that which, on a full discussion of the question, he sincerely thinks to be true. Locke.An enthusiast who advances doctrines prejudicial to society, or opposes any that are useful to it, has the strength of opinion and the heat of a disturbed imagination to plead in alleviation of his fault; but your cool head and sound judgment can have no such excuse. I know very well there are passages in all your works, and those not a few, where you talk like a rigid moralist. I have also heard that your character was irreproachably good; but when, in the most laboured parts of your writings, you sap the surest foundations of all moral duties, what avails it that in others, or in the conduct of your life, you have appeared to respect them? How many who have stronger passions than you had, and are desirous to get rid of the curb that restrains them, will lay hold of your scepticism to set themselves loose from all obligations of virtue! What a misfortune is it to have made such a use of such talents! It would have been better for you and for mankind if you had been one of the dullest of Dutch theologians, or the most credulous monk in a Portuguese convent. The riches of the mind, like those of Fortune, may be employed so perversely as to become a nuisance and pest instead of an ornament and support to society. Bayle.You are very severe upon me. But do you count it no merit, no service to mankind, to deliver them from the frauds and fetters of priestcraft, from the deliriums of fanaticism, and from the terrors and follies of superstition? Consider how much mischief these have done to the world! Even in the last age what massacres, what civil wars, what convulsions of government, what confusion in society, did they produce! Nay, in that we both lived in, though much more enlightened than the former, did I not see them occasion a violent persecution in my own country? And can you blame me for striking at the root of these evils. Locke.The root of these evils, you well know, was false religion; but you struck at the true. Heaven and hell are not more different than the system of faith I defended and that which produced the horrors of which you speak. Why would you so fallaciously confound them together in some of your writings, that it requires much more judgment, and a more diligent attention than ordinary readers have, to separate them again, and to make the proper distinctions? This, indeed, is the great art of the most celebrated freethinkers. They recommend themselves to warm and ingenuous minds by lively strokes of wit, and by arguments really strong, against superstition, enthusiasm, and priestcraft; but at the same time they insidiously throw the colours of these upon the fair face of true religion, and dress her out in their garb, with a malignant intention to render her odious or despicable to those who have not penetration enough to discern the impious fraud. Some of them may have thus deceived themselves as well as others. Yet it is certain no book that ever was written by the most acute of these gentlemen is so repugnant to priestcraft, to spiritual tyranny, to all absurd superstitions, to all that can tend to disturb or injure society, as that Gospel they so much affect to despise. Bayle.Mankind is so made that, when they have been overheated, they cannot be brought to a proper temper again till they have been overcooled. My scepticism might be necessary to abate the fever and frenzy of false religion. Locke.A wise prescription, indeed, to bring on a paralytical state of the mind (for such a scepticism as yours is a palsy which deprives the mind of all vigour, and deadens its natural and vital powers) in order to take off a fever which temperance and the milk of the Evangelical doctrines would probably cure. Bayle.I acknowledge that those medicines have a great power. But few doctors apply them untainted with the mixture of some harsher drugs or some unsafe and ridiculous nostrums of their own. Locke.What you now say is too true. God has given us a most excellent physic for the soul in all its diseases, but bad and interested physicians, or ignorant and conceited quacks, administer it so ill to the rest of mankind that much of the benefit of it is unhappily lost. DIALOGUE XXV. ARCHIBALD, EARL OF DOUGLAS, DUKE OF TOURAINEJOHN, DUKE OF ARGYLE AND GREENWICH, FIELDMARSHAL OF HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY'S FORCES. Argyle.Yes, noble Douglas, it grieves me that you and your son, together with the brave Earl of Buchan, should have employed so much valour and have thrown away your lives in fighting the battles of that State which, from its situation and interests, is the perpetual and most dangerous enemy to Great Britain. A British nobleman serving France appears to me as unfortunate and as much out of his proper sphere as a Grecian commander engaged in the service of Persia would have appeared to Aristides or Agesilaus. Douglas.In serving France I served Scotland. The French were the natural allies to the Scotch, and by supporting their Crown I enabled my countrymen to maintain their independence against the English. Argyle.The French, indeed, from the unhappy state of our country, were ancient allies to the Scotch, but that they ever were our natural allies I deny. Their alliance was proper and necessary for us, because we were then in an unnatural state, disunited from England. While that disunion continued, our monarchy was compelled to lean upon France for assistance and support. The French power and policy kept us, I acknowledge, independent of the English, but dependent on them; and this dependence exposed us to many grievous calamities by drawing on our country the formidable arms of the English whenever it happened that the French and they had a quarrel. The succours they afforded us were distant and uncertain. Our enemy was at hand, superior to us in strength, though not in valour. Our borders were ravaged; our kings were slain or led captive; we lost all the advantage of being the inhabitants of a great island; we had no commerce, no peace, no security, no degree of maritime power. Scotland was a backdoor through which the French, with our help, made their inroads into England; if they conquered, we obtained little benefit from it; but if they were defeated, we were always the devoted victims on whom the conquerors severely wreaked their resentment. Douglas.The English suffered as much in those wars as we. How terribly were their borders laid waste and depopulated by our sharp incursions! How often have the swords of my ancestors been stained with the best blood of that nation! Were not our victories at Bannockburn and at Otterburn as glorious as any that, with all the advantage of numbers, they have ever obtained over us? Argyle.They were; but yet they did us no lasting good. They left us still dependent on the protection of France. They left us a poor, a feeble, a distressed, though a most valiant nation. They irritated England, but could not subdue it, nor hinder our feeling such effects of its enmity as gave us no reason to rejoice in our triumphs. How much more happily, in the auspicious reign of that queen who formed the Union, was my sword employed in humbling the foes of Great Britain! With how superior a dignity did I appear in the combined British senate, maintaining the interests of the whole united people of England and Scotland against all foreign powers who attempted to disturb our general happiness or to invade our common rights! Douglas.Your eloquence and your valour had unquestionably a much nobler and more spacious field to exercise themselves in than any of those who defended the interests of only a part of the island. Argyle.Whenever I read any account of the wars between the Scotch and the English, I think I am reading a melancholy history of civil dissensions. Whichever side is defeated, their loss appears to me a loss to the whole and an advantage to some foreign enemy of Great Britain. But the strength of that island is made complete by the Union, and what a great English poet has justly said in one instance is now true in all: \"The Hotspur and the Douglas, both together, Are confident against the world in arms.\" Who can resist the English and Scotch valour combined? When separated and opposed, they balanced each other; united, they will hold the balance of Europe. If all the Scotch blood that has been shed for the French in unnatural wars against England had been poured out to oppose the ambition of France, in conjunction with the Englishif all the English blood that has been spilt as unfortunately in useless wars against Scotland had been preserved, France would long ago have been rendered incapable of disturbing our peace, and Great Britain would have been the most powerful of nations. Douglas.There is truth in all you have said. But yet when I reflect on the insidious ambition of King Edward I., on the ungenerous arts he so treacherously employed to gain, or rather to steal, the sovereignty of our kingdom, and the detestable cruelty he showed to Wallace, our brave champion and martyr, my soul is up in arms against the insolence of the English, and I adore the memory of those patriots who died in asserting the independence of our Crown and the liberty of our nation. Argyle.Had I lived in those days I should have joined with those patriots, and been the foremost to maintain so noble a cause. The Scotch were not made to be subject to the English. Their souls are too great for such a timid submission. But they may unite and incorporate with a nation they would not obey. Their scorn of a foreign yoke, their strong and generous love of independence and freedom, make their union with England more natural and more proper. Had the spirit of the Scotch been servile or base, it could never have coalesced with that of the English. Douglas.It is true that the minds of both nations are congenial and filled with the same noble virtues, the same impatience of servitude, the same magnanimity, courage, and prudence, the same genius for policy, for navigation and commerce, for sciences and arts. Yet, notwithstanding this happy conformity, when I consider how long they were enemies to each other, what an hereditary hatred and jealousy had subsisted for many ages between them, what private passions, what prejudices, what contrary interests must have necessarily obstructed every step of the treaty, and how hard it was to overcome the strong opposition of national pride, I stand astonished that it was possible to unite the two kingdoms upon any conditions, and much more that it could be done with such equal regard and amicable fairness to both. Argyle.It was indeed a most arduous and difficult undertaking. The success of it must, I think, be thankfully ascribed, not only to the great firmness and prudence of those who had the management of it, but to the gracious assistance of Providence for the preservation of the reformed religion amongst us, which, in that conjuncture, if the union had not been made, would have been ruined in Scotland and much endangered in England. The same good Providence has watched over and protected it since, in a most signal manner, against the attempts of an infatuated party in Scotland and the arts of France, who by her emissaries laboured to destroy it as soon as formed; because she justly foresaw that the continuance of it would be destructive to all her vast designs against the liberty of Europe. I myself had the honour to have a principal share in subduing one rebellion designed to subvert it, and since my death it has been, I hope, established for ever, not only by the defeat of another rebellion, which came upon us in the midst of a dangerous war with France, but by measures prudently taken in order to prevent such disturbances for the future. The ministers of the Crown have proposed and the British legislature has enacted a wise system of laws, the object of which is to reform and to civilise the Highlands of Scotland; to deliver the people there from the arbitrary power and oppression of their chieftains; to carry the royal justice and royal protection into the wildest parts of their mountains; to hinder their natural valour from being abused and perverted to the detriment of their country; and to introduce among them arts, agriculture, commerce, tranquillity, with all the improvements of social and polished life. Douglas.By what you now tell me you give me the highest idea of the great prince, your master, who, after having been provoked by such a wicked rebellion, instead of enslaving the people of the Highlands, or laying the hand of power more heavily upon them (which is the usual consequence of unsuccessful revolts), has conferred on them the inestimable blessings of liberty, justice, and good order. To act thus is indeed to perfect the union and make all the inhabitants of Great Britain acknowledge, with gratitude and with joy, that they are subjects of the same wellregulated kingdom, and governed with the same impartial affection by the sovereign and father of the whole commonwealth. Argyle.The laws I have mentioned and the humane benevolent policy of His Majesty's Government have already produced very salutary effects in that part of the kingdom, and, if steadily pursued, will produce many more. But no words can recount to you the infinite benefits which have attended the union in the northern counties of England and the southern of Scotland. Douglas.The fruits of it must be, doubtless, most sensible there, where the perpetual enmity between the two nations had occasioned the greatest disorder and desolation. Argyle.Oh, Douglas, could you revive and return into Scotland what a delightful alteration would you see in that country. All those great tracts of land, which in your time lay untilled on account of the inroads of the bordering English, or the feuds and discords that raged with perpetual violence within our own distracted kingdom, you would now behold cultivated and smiling with plenty. Instead of the castles, which every baron was compelled to erect for the defence of his family, and where he lived in the barbarism of Gothic pride, among miserable vassals oppressed by the abuse of his feudal powers, your eyes would be charmed with elegant country houses, adorned with fine plantations and beautiful gardens, while happy villages or gay towns are rising about them and enlivening the prospect with every image of rural wealth. On our coasts trading cities, full of new manufactures, and continually increasing the extent of their commerce. In our ports and harbours innumerable merchant ships, richly loaded, and protected from all enemies by the matchless fleet of Great Britain. But of all improvements the greatest is in the minds of the Scotch. These have profited, even more than their lands, by the culture which the settled peace and tranquillity produced by the union have happily given to them, and they have discovered such talents in all branches of literature as might render the English jealous of being excelled by their genius, if there could remain a competition, when there remains no distinction between the two nations. Douglas.There may be emulation without jealousy, and the efforts, which that emulation will excite, may render our island superior in the fame of wit and good learning to Italy or to Greece; a superiority, which I have learnt in the Elysian fields to prefer even to that which is acquired by arms. But one doubt still remains with me concerning the union. I have been informed that no more than sixteen of our peers, except those who have English peerages (which some of the noblest have not), now sit in the House of Lords as representatives of the rest. Does not this in a great measure diminish those peers who are not elected? And have you not found the election of the sixteen too dependent on the favour of a court? Argyle.It was impossible that the English could ever consent in the Treaty of Union, to admit a greater number to have places and votes in the Upper House of Parliament, but all the Scotch peerage is virtually there by representation. And those who are not elected have every dignity and right of the peerage, except the privilege of sitting in the House of Lords and some others depending thereon. Douglas.They have so; but when parliaments enjoy such a share in the government of a country as ours do at this time, to be personally there is a privilege and a dignity of the highest importance. Argyle.I wish it had been possible to impart it to all. But your reason will tell you it was not. And consider, my lord, that, till the Revolution in 1688, the power vested by our Government in the Lords of the Articles had made our parliaments much more subject to the influence of the Crown than our elections are now. As, by the manner in which they were constituted, those lords were no less devoted to the king than his own privy council, and as no proposition could then be presented in Parliament if rejected by them, they gave him a negative before debate. This, indeed, was abolished upon the accession of King William III., with many other oppressive and despotical powers, which had rendered our nobles abject slaves to the Crown, while they were allowed to be tyrants over the people. But if King James or his son had been restored, the government he had exercised would have been reestablished, and nothing but the union of the two kingdoms could have effectually prevented that restoration. We likewise owe to the union the subsequent abolition of the Scotch privy council, which had been the most grievous engine of tyranny, and that salutary law which declared that no crimes should be high treason or misprision of treason in Scotland but such as were so in England, and gave us the English methods of trial in cases of that nature; whereas before there were so many species of treasons, the construction of them was so uncertain, and the trials were so arbitrary, that no man could be safe from suffering as a traitor. By the same Act of Parliament we also received a communication of that noble privilege of the English, exemption from torturea privilege which, though essential both to humanity and to justice, no other nation in Europe, not even the freest republics, can boast of possessing. Shall we, then, take offence at some inevitable circumstances, which may be objected to, on our part, in the Treaty of Union, when it has delivered us from slavery, and all the worst evils that a state can suffer? It might be easily shown that, in his political and civil condition, every baron in Scotland is much happier now, and much more independent, than the highest was under that constitution of government which continued in Scotland even after the expulsion of King James II. The greatest enemies to the union are the friends of that king in whose reign, and in his brother's, the kingdom of Scotland was subjected to a despotism as arbitrary as that of France, and more tyrannically administered. Douglas.All I have heard of those reigns makes me blush with indignation at the servility of our nobles, who could endure them so long. What, then, was become of that undaunted Scotch spirit, which had dared to resist the Plantagenets in the height of their power and pride? Could the descendants of those who had disdained to be subjects of Edward I. submit to be slaves of Charles II. or James? Argyle.They seemed in general to have lost every characteristic of their natural temper, except a desire to abuse the royal authority for the gratification of their private resentments in family quarrels. Douglas.Your grandfather, my lord, has the glory of not deserving this censure. Argyle.I am proud that his spirit, and the principles he professed, drew upon him the injustice and fury of those times. But there needs no other proof than the nature and the manner of his condemnation to show what a wretched state our nobility then were in, and what an inestimable advantage it is to them that they are now to be tried as peers of Great Britain, and have the benefit of those laws which imparted to us the equity and the freedom of the English Constitution. Upon the whole, as much as wealth is preferable to poverty, liberty to oppression, and national strength to national weakness, so much has Scotland incontestably gained by the union. England, too, has secured by it every public blessing which was before enjoyed by her, and has greatly augmented her strength. The martial spirit of the Scotch, their hardy bodies, their acute and vigorous minds, their industry, their activity, are now employed to the benefit of the whole island. He is now a bad Scotchman who is not a good Englishman, and he is a bad Englishman who is not a good Scotchman. Mutual intercourse, mutual interests, mutual benefits, must naturally be productive of mutual affection. And when that is established, when our hearts are sincerely united, many great things, which some remains of jealousy and distrust, or narrow local partialities, may hitherto have obstructed, will be done for the good of the whole United Kingdom. How much may the revenues of Great Britain be increased by the further increase of population, of industry, and of commerce in Scotland! What a mighty addition to the stock of national wealth will arise from the improvement of our most northern counties, which are infinitely capable of being improved! The briars and thorns are in a great measure grubbed up; the flowers and fruits may soon be planted. And what more pleasing, or what more glorious employment can any government have, than to attend to the cultivating of such a plantation? Douglas.The prospect you open to me of happiness to my country appears so fair, that it makes me amends for the pain with which I reflect on the times wherein I lived, and indeed on our whole history for several ages. Argyle.That history does, in truth, present to the mind a long series of the most direful objects, assassinations, rebellions, anarchy, tyranny, and religion itself, either cruel, or gloomy and unsocial. An historian who would paint it in its true colours must take the pencil of Guercino or Salvator Rosa. But the most agreeable imagination can hardly figure to itself a more pleasing scene of private and public felicity than will naturally result from the union, if all the prejudices against it, and all distinctions that may tend on either side to keep up an idea of separate interests, or to revive a sharp remembrance of national animosities, can be removed. Douglas.If they can be removed! I think it impossible they can be retained. To resist the union is indeed to rebel against Nature. She has joined the two countries, has fenced them both with the sea against the invasion of all other nations, but has laid them entirely open the one to the other. Accursed be he who endeavours to divide them. What God has joined let no man put asunder. DIALOGUE XXVI. CADMUSHERCULES. Hercules.Do you pretend to sit as high on Olympus as Hercules? Did you kill the Nemean lion, the Erymanthian boar, the Lernean serpent, and Stymphalian birds? Did you destroy tyrants and robbers? You value yourself greatly on subduing one serpent; I did as much as that while I lay in my cradle. Cadmus.It is not on account of the serpent I boast myself a greater benefactor to Greece than you. Actions should be valued by their utility rather than their eclat. I taught Greece the art of writing, to which laws owe their precision and permanency. You subdued monsters; I civilised men. It is from untamed passions, not from wild beasts, that the greatest evils arise to human society. By wisdom, by art, by the united strength of civil community, men have been enabled to subdue the whole race of lions, bears, and serpents, and what is more, to bind in laws and wholesome regulations the ferocious violence and dangerous treachery of the human disposition. Had lions been destroyed only in single combat, men had had but a bad time of it; and what but laws could awe the men who killed the lions? The genuine glory, the proper distinction of the rational species, arises from the perfection of the mental powers. Courage is apt to be fierce, and strength is often exerted in acts of oppression. But wisdom is the associate of justice. It assists her to form equal laws, to pursue right measures, to correct power, protect weakness, and to unite individuals in a common interest and general welfare. Heroes may kill tyrants, but it is wisdom and laws that prevent tyranny and oppression. The operations of policy far surpass the labours of Hercules, preventing many evils which valour and might cannot even redress. You heroes consider nothing but glory, and hardly regard whether the conquests which raise your fame are really beneficial to your country. Unhappy are the people who are governed by valour not directed by prudence, and not mitigated by the gentle arts! Hercules.I do not expect to find an admirer of my strenuous life in the man who taught his countrymen to sit still and read, and to lose the hours of youth and action in idle speculation and the sport of words. Cadmus.An ambition to have a place in the registers of fame is the Eurystheus which imposes heroic labours on mankind. The muses incite to action as well as entertain the hours of repose; and I think you should honour them for presenting to heroes such a noble recreation as may prevent their taking up the distaff when they lay down the club. Hercules.Wits as well as heroes can take up the distaff. What think you of their thinspun systems of philosophy, or lascivious poems, or Milesian fables? Nay, what is still worse, are there not panegyrics on tyrants, and books that blaspheme the gods and perplex the natural sense of right and wrong? I believe if Eurystheus was to set me to work again he would find me a worse task than any he imposed; he would make me read through a great library; and I would serve it as I did the hydra, I would burn as I went on, that one chimera might not rise from another to plague mankind. I should have valued myself more on clearing the library than on cleansing the Augean stables. Cadmus.It is in those libraries only that the memory of your labours exists. The heroes of Marathon, the patriots of Thermopylae, owe their immortality to me. All the wise institutions of lawgivers and all the doctrines of sages had perished in the ear, like a dream related, if letters had not preserved them. Oh Hercules! it is not for the man who preferred virtue to pleasure to be an enemy to the muses. Let Sardanapalus and the silken sons of luxury, who have wasted life in inglorious ease, despise the records of action which bear no honourable testimony to their lives. But true merit, heroic virtue, each genuine offspring of immortal Jove, should honour the sacred source of lasting fame. Hercules.Indeed, if writers employed themselves only in recording the acts of great men, much might be said in their favour. But why do they trouble people with their meditations? Can it signify to the world what an idle man has been thinking? Cadmus.Yes, it may. The most important and extensive advantages mankind enjoy are greatly owing to men who have never quitted their closets. To them mankind is obliged for the facility and security of navigation. The invention of the compass has opened to them new worlds. The knowledge of the mechanical powers has enabled them to construct such wonderful machines as perform what the united labour of millions by the severest drudgery could not accomplish. Agriculture, too, the most useful of arts, has received its share of improvement from the same source. Poetry likewise is of excellent use to enable the memory to retain with more ease, and to imprint with more energy upon the heart, precepts of virtue and virtuous actions. Since we left the world, from the little root of a few letters, science has spread its branches over all nature, and raised its head to the heavens. Some philosophers have entered so far into the counsels of divine wisdom as to explain much of the great operations of nature. The dimensions and distances of the planets, the causes of their revolutions, the path of comets, and the ebbing and flowing of tides are understood and explained. Can anything raise the glory of the human species more than to see a little creature, inhabiting a small spot, amidst innumerable worlds, taking a survey of the universe, comprehending its arrangement, and entering into the scheme of that wonderful connection and correspondence of things so remote, and which it seems the utmost exertion of Omnipotence to have established? What a volume of wisdom, what a noble theology do these discoveries open to us! While some superior geniuses have soared to these sublime subjects, other sagacious and diligent minds have been inquiring into the most minute works of the Infinite Artificer; the same care, the same providence is exerted through the whole, and we should learn from it that to true wisdom utility and fitness appear perfection, and whatever is beneficial is noble. Hercules.I approve of science as far as it is assistant to action. I like the improvement of navigation and the discovery of the greater part of the globe, because it opens a wider field for the master spirits of the world to bustle in. Cadmus.There spoke the soul of Hercules. But if learned men are to be esteemed for the assistance they give to active minds in their schemes, they are not less to be valued for their endeavours to give them a right direction and moderate their too great ardour. The study of history will teach the warrior and the legislator by what means armies have been victorious and states have become powerful; and in the private citizen they will inculcate the love of liberty and order. The writings of sages point out a private path of virtue, and show that the best empire is selfgovernment, and subduing our passions the noblest of conquests. Hercules.The true spirit of heroism acts by a sort of inspiration, and wants neither the experience of history nor the doctrines of philosophers to direct it. But do not arts and sciences render men effeminate, luxurious, and inactive? and can you deny that wit and learning are often made subservient to very bad purposes? Cadmus.I will own that there are some natures so happily formed they hardly want the assistance of a master, and the rules of art, to give them force or grace in everything they do. But these heaveninspired geniuses are few. As learning flourishes only where ease, plenty, and mild government subsist, in so rich a soil, and under so soft a climate, the weeds of luxury will spring up among the flowers of art; but the spontaneous weeds would grow more rank, if they were allowed the undisturbed possession of the field. Letters keep a frugal, temperate nation from growing ferocious, a rich one from becoming entirely sensual and debauched. Every gift of the gods is sometimes abused; but wit and fine talents by a natural law gravitate towards virtue; accidents may drive them out of their proper direction; but such accidents are a sort of prodigies, and, like other prodigies, it is an alarming omen, and of dire portent to the times. For if virtue cannot keep to her allegiance those men, who in their hearts confess her divine right, and know the value of her laws, on whose fidelity and obedience can she depend? May such geniuses never descend to flatter vice, encourage folly, or propagate irreligion; but exert all their powers in the service of virtue, and celebrate the noble choice of those, who, like you, preferred her to pleasure. DIALOGUE XXVII. MERCURYAND A MODERN FINE LADY. Mrs. Modish.Indeed, Mr. Mercury, I cannot have the pleasure of waiting upon you now. I am engaged, absolutely engaged. Mercury.I know you have an amiable, affectionate husband, and several fine children; but you need not be told, that neither conjugal attachments, maternal affections, nor even the care of a kingdom's welfare or a nation's glory, can excuse a person who has received a summons to the realms of death. If the grim messenger was not as peremptory as unwelcome, Charon would not get a passenger (except now and then a hypochondriacal Englishman) once in a century. You must be content to leave your husband and family, and pass the Styx. Mrs. Modish.I did not mean to insist on any engagement with my husband and children; I never thought myself engaged to them. I had no engagements but such as were common to women of my rank. Look on my chimneypiece, and you will see I was engaged to the play on Mondays, balls on Tuesdays, the opera on Saturdays, and to card assemblies the rest of the week, for two months to come; and it would be the rudest thing in the world not to keep my appointments. If you will stay for me till the summer season, I will wait on you with all my heart. Perhaps the Elysian fields may be less detestable than the country in our world. Pray have you a fine Vauxhall and Ranelagh? I think I should not dislike drinking the Lethe waters when you have a full season. Mercury.Surely you could not like to drink the waters of oblivion, who have made pleasure the business, end, and aim of your life! It is good to drown cares, but who would wash away the remembrance of a life of gaiety and pleasure. Mrs. Modish.Diversion was indeed the business of my life, but as to pleasure, I have enjoyed none since the novelty of my amusements was gone off. Can one be pleased with seeing the same thing over and over again? Late hours and fatigue gave me the vapours, spoiled the natural cheerfulness of my temper, and even in youth wore away my youthful vivacity. Mercury.If this way of life did not give you pleasure, why did you continue in it? I suppose you did not think it was very meritorious? Mrs. Modish.I was too much engaged to think at all: so far indeed my manner of life was agreeable enough. My friends always told me diversions were necessary, and my doctor assured me dissipation was good for my spirits; my husband insisted that it was not, and you know that one loves to oblige one's friends, comply with one's doctor, and contradict one's husband; and besides I was ambitious to be thought du bon ton. Mercury.Bon ton! what is that, madam? Pray define it. Mrs. Modish.Oh sir, excuse me, it is one of the privileges of the bon ton never to define, or be defined. It is the child and the parent of jargon. It isI can never tell you what it is: but I will try to tell you what it is not. In conversation it is not wit; in manners it is not politeness; in behaviour it is not address; but it is a little like them all. It can only belong to people of a certain rank, who live in a certain manner, with certain persons, who have not certain virtues, and who have certain vices, and who inhabit a certain part of the town. Like a place by courtesy, it gets a higher rank than the person can claim, but which those who have a legal title to precedency dare not dispute, for fear of being thought not to understand the rules of politeness. Now, sir, I have told you as much as I know of it, though I have admired and aimed at it all my life. Mercury.Then, madam, you have wasted your time, faded your beauty, and destroyed your health, for the laudable purposes of contradicting your husband, and being this something and this nothing called the bon ton. Mrs. Modish.What would you have had me do? Mercury.I will follow your mode of instructing. I will tell you what I would not have had you do. I would not have had you sacrifice your time, your reason, and your duties, to fashion and folly. I would not have had you neglect your husband's happiness and your children's education. Mrs. Modish.As to the education of my daughters, I spared no expense; they had a dancingmaster, musicmaster, and drawingmister, and a French governess to teach them behaviour and the French language. Mercury.So their religion, sentiments, and manners were to be learnt from a dancingmaster, musicmaster, and a chambermaid! Perhaps they might prepare them to catch the bon ton. Your daughters must have been so educated as to fit them to be wives without conjugal affection, and mothers without maternal care. I am sorry for the sort of life they are commencing, and for that which you have just concluded. Minos is a sour old gentleman, without the least smattering of the bon ton, and I am in a fright for you. The best thing I can advise you is to do in this world as you did in the other, keep happiness in your view, but never take the road that leads to it. Remain on this side Styx, wander about without end or aim, look into the Elysian fields, but never attempt to enter into them, lest Minos should push you into Tartarus; for duties neglected may bring on a sentence not much less severe than crimes committed. DIALOGUE XXVIII. PLUTARCHCHARONAND A MODERN BOOKSELLER. Charon.Here is a fellow who is very unwilling to land in our territories. He says he is rich, has a great deal of business in the other world, and must needs return to it; he is so troublesome and obstreperous I know not what to do with him. Take him under your care, therefore, good Plutarch; you will easily awe him into order and decency by the superiority an author has over a bookseller. Bookseller.Am I got into a world so absolutely the reverse of that I left, that here authors domineer over booksellers? Dear Charon, let me go back, and I will pay any price for my passage; but, if I must stay, leave me not with any of those who are styled classical authors. As to you, Plutarch, I have a particular animosity against you for having almost occasioned my ruin. When I first set up shop, understanding but little of business, I unadvisedly bought an edition of your \"Lives,\" a pack of old Greeks and Romans, which cost me a great sum of money. I could never get off above twenty sets of them. I sold a few to the Universities, and some to Eton and Westminster, for it is reckoned a pretty book for boys and undergraduates; but, unless a man has the luck to light on a pedant, he shall not sell a set of them in twenty years. Plutarch.From the merit of the subjects, I had hoped another reception for my works. I will own, indeed, that I am not always perfectly accurate in every circumstance, nor do I give so exact and circumstantial a detail of the actions of my heroes as may be expected from a biographer who has confined himself to one or two characters. A zeal to preserve the memory of great men, and to extend the influence of such noble examples, made me undertake more than I could accomplish in the first degree of perfection; but surely the characters of my illustrious men are not so imperfectly sketched that they will not stand forth to all ages as patterns of virtue and incitements to glory. My reflections are allowed to be deep and sagacious; and what can be more useful to a reader than a wise man's judgment on a great man's conduct? In my writings you will find no rash censures, no undeserved encomiums, no mean compliance with popular opinions, no vain ostentation of critical skill, nor any affected finesse. In my \"Parallels,\" which used to be admired as pieces of excellent judgment, I compare with perfect impartiality one great man with another, and each with the rule of justice. If, indeed, latter ages have produced greater men and better writers, my heroes and my works ought to give place to them. As the world has now the advantage of much better rules of morality than the unassisted reason of poor Pagans could form, I do not wonder that those vices, which appeared to us as mere blemishes in great characters, should seem most horrid deformities in the purer eyes of the present agea delicacy I do not blame, but admire and commend. And I must censure you for endeavouring, if you could publish better examples, to obtrude on your countrymen such as were defective. I rejoice at the preference which they give to perfect and unalloyed virtue; and as I shall ever retain a high veneration for the illustrious men of every age, I should be glad if you would give me some account of those persons who in wisdom, justice, valour, patriotism, have eclipsed my Solon, Numa, Camillus, and other boasts of Greece or Rome. Bookseller.Why, Master Plutarch, you are talking Greek indeed. That work which repaired the loss I sustained by the costly edition of your books was \"The Lives of the Highwaymen;\" but I should never have grown rich if it had not been by publishing \"The Lives of Men that Never Lived.\" You must know that, though in all times it was possible to have a great deal of learning and very little wisdom, yet it is only by a modern improvement in the art of writing that a man may read all his life and have no learning or knowledge at all, which begins to be an advantage of the greatest importance. There is as natural a war between your men of science and fools as between the cranes and the pigmies of old. Most of our young men having deserted to the fools, the party of the learned is near being beaten out of the field; and I hope in a little while they will not dare to peep out of their forts and fastnesses at Oxford and Cambridge. There let them stay and study old musty moralists till one falls in love with the Greek, another with the Roman virtue; but our men of the world should read our new books, which teach them to have no virtue at all. No book is fit for a gentleman's reading which is not void of facts and of doctrines, that he may not grow a pedant in his morals or conversation. I look upon history (I mean real history) to be one of the worst kinds of study. Whatever has happened may happen again, and a wellbred man may unwarily mention a parallel instance he had met with in history and be betrayed into the awkwardness of introducing into his discourse a Greek, a Roman, or even a Gothic name; but when a gentleman has spent his time in reading adventures that never occurred, exploits that never were achieved, and events that not only never did, but never can happen, it is impossible that in life or in discourse he should ever apply them. A secret history, in which there is no secret and no history, cannot tempt indiscretion to blab or vanity to quote; and by this means modern conversation flows gentle and easy, unencumbered with matter and unburdened of instruction. As the present studies throw no weight or gravity into discourse and manners, the women are not afraid to read our books, which not only dispose to gallantry and coquetry, but give rules for them. Caesar's \"Commentaries,\" and the \"Account of Xenophon's Expedition,\" are not more studied by military commanders than our novels are by the fairto a different purpose, indeed; for their military maxims teach to conquer, ours to yield. Those inflame the vain and idle love of glory: these inculcate a noble contempt of reputation. The women have greater obligations to our writers than the men. By the commerce of the world men might learn much of what they get from books; but the poor women, who in their early youth are confined and restrained, if it were not for the friendly assistance of books, would remain long in an insipid purity of mind, with a discouraging reserve of behaviour. Plutarch.As to your men who have quitted the study of virtue for the study of vice, useful truth for absurd fancy, and real history for monstrous fiction, I have neither regard nor compassion for them; but I am concerned for the women who are betrayed into these dangerous studies; and I wish for their sakes I had expatiated more on the character of Lucretia and some other heroines. Bookseller.I tell you, our women do not read in order to live or to die like Lucretia. If you would inform us that a billetdoux was found in her cabinet after her death, or give a hint as if Tarquin really saw her in the arms of a slave, and that she killed herself not to suffer the shame of a discovery, such anecdotes would sell very well. Or if, even by tradition, but better still, if by papers in the Portian family, you could show some probability that Portia died of dram drinking, you would oblige the world very much; for you must know, that next to newinvented characters, we are fond of new lights upon ancient characters; I mean such lights as show a reputed honest man to have been a concealed knave, an illustrious hero a pitiful coward, c. Nay, we are so fond of these kinds of information as to be pleased sometimes to see a character cleared from a vice or crime it has been charged with, provided the person concerned be actually dead. But in this case the evidence must be authentic, and amount to a demonstration; in the other, a detection is not necessary; a slight suspicion will do, if it concerns a really good and great character. Plutarch.I am the more surprised at what you say of the taste of your contemporaries, as I met with a Frenchman who assured me that less than a century ago he had written a much admired \"Life of Cyrus,\" under the name of Artamenes, in which he ascribed to him far greater actions than those recorded of him by Xenophon and Herodotus; and that many of the great heroes of history had been treated in the same manner; that empires were gained and battles decided by the valour of a single man, imagination bestowing what nature has denied, and the system of human affairs rendered impossible. Bookseller.I assure you those books were very useful to the authors and their booksellers; and for whose benefit besides should a man write? These romances were very fashionable and had a great sale: they fell in luckily with the humour of the age. Plutarch.Monsieur Scuderi tells me they were written in the times of vigour and spirit, in the evening of the gallant days of chivalry, which, though then declining, had left in the hearts of men a warm glow of courage and heroism; and they were to be called to books as to battle, by the sound of the trumpet. He says, too, that if writers had not accommodated themselves to the prejudices of the age, and written of bloody battles and desperate encounters, their works would have been esteemed too effeminate an amusement for gentlemen. Histories of chivalry, instead of enervating, tend to invigorate the mind, and endeavour to raise human nature above the condition which is naturally prescribed to it; but as strict justice, patriotic motives, prudent counsels, and a dispassionate choice of what upon the whole is fittest and best, do not direct these heroes of romance, they cannot serve for instruction and example, like the great characters of true history. It has ever been my opinion, that only the clear and steady light of truth can guide men to virtue, and that the lesson which is impracticable must be unuseful. Whoever shall design to regulate his conduct by these visionary characters will be in the condition of superstitious people, who choose rather to act by intimations they receive in the dreams of the night, than by the sober counsels of morning meditation. Yet I confess it has been the practice of many nations to incite men to virtue by relating the deeds of fabulous heroes: but surely it is the custom only of yours to incite them to vice by the history of fabulous scoundrels. Men of fine imagination have soared into the regions of fancy to bring back Astrea; you go thither in search of Pandora. Oh disgrace to letters! Oh shame to the muses! Bookseller.You express great indignation at our present race of writers; but believe me the fault lies chiefly on the side of the readers. As Monsieur Scuderi observed to you, authors must comply with the manners and disposition of those who are to read them. There must be a certain sympathy between the book and the reader to create a good liking. Would you present a modern fine gentleman, who is negligently lolling in an easy chair, with the labours of Hercules for his recreation? or make him climb the Alps with Hannibal when he is expiring with the fatigue of last night's ball? Our readers must be amused, flattered, soothed; such adventures must be offered to them as they would like to have a share in. Plutarch.It should be the first object of writers to correct the vices and follies of the age. I will allow as much compliance with the mode of the times as will make truth and good morals agreeable. Your love of fictitious characters might be turned to good purpose if those presented to the public were to be formed on the rules of religion and morality. It must be confessed that history, being employed only about illustrious persons, public events, and celebrated actions, does not supply us with such instances of domestic merit as one could wish. Our heroes are great in the field and the senate, and act well in great scenes on the theatre of the world; but the idea of a man, who in the silent retired path of life never deviates into vice, who considers no spectator but the Omniscient Being, and solicits no applause but His approbation, is the noblest model that can be exhibited to mankind, and would be of the most general use. Examples of domestic virtue would be more particularly useful to women than those of great heroines. The virtues of women are blasted by the breath of public fame, as flowers that grow on an eminence are faded by the sun and wind which expand them. But true female praise, like the music of the spheres, arises from a gentle, a constant, and an equal progress in the path marked out for them by their great Creator; and, like the heavenly harmony, it is not adapted to the gross ear of mortals, but is reserved for the delight of higher beings, by whose wise laws they were ordained to give a silent light and shed a mild, benignant influence on the world. Bookseller.We have had some English and French writers who aimed at what you suggest. In the supposed character of Clarissa (said a clergyman to me a few days before I left the world) one finds the dignity of heroism tempered by the meekness and humility of religion, a perfect purity of mind, and sanctity of manners. In that of Sir Charles Grandison, a noble pattern of every private virtue, with sentiments so exalted as to render him equal to every public duty. Plutarch.Are both these characters by the same author? Bookseller.Ay, Master Plutarch, and what will surprise you more, this author has printed for me. Plutarch.By what you say, it is pity he should print any work but his own. Are there no other authors who write in this manner? Bookseller.Yes, we have another writer of these imaginary histories; one who has not long since descended to these regions. His name is Fielding, and his works, as I have heard the best judges say, have a true spirit of comedy and an exact representation of nature, with fine moral touches. He has not, indeed, given lessons of pure and consummate virtue, but he has exposed vice and meanness with all the powers of ridicule; and we have some other good wits who have exerted their talents to the purposes you approve. Monsieur de Marivaux, and some other French writers, have also proceeded much upon the same plan with a spirit and elegance which give their works no mean rank among the belles lettres. I will own that, when there is wit and entertainment enough in a book to make it sell, it is not the worse for good morals. Charon.I think, Plutarch, you have made this gentleman a little more humble, and now I will carry him the rest of his journey. But he is too frivolous an animal to present to wise Minos. I wish Mercury were here; he would damn him for his dulness. I have a good mind to carry him to the Danaides, and leave him to pour water into their vessels which, like his late readers, are destined to eternal emptiness. Or shall I chain him to the rock, side to side by Prometheus, not for having attempted to steal celestial fire, in order to animate human forms, but for having endeavoured to extinguish that which Jupiter had imparted? Or shall we constitute him friseur to Tisiphone, and make him curl up her locks with his satires and libels? Plutarch.Minos does not esteem anything frivolous that affects the morals of mankind. He punishes authors as guilty of every fault they have countenanced and every crime they have encouraged, and denounces heavy vengeance for the injuries which virtue or the virtuous have suffered in consequence of their writings. DIALOGUE XXIX. PUBLIUS CORNELIUS SCIPIO AFRICANUSCAIUS JULIUS CAESAR. Scipio.Alas, Caesar! how unhappily did you end a life made illustrious by the greatest exploits in war and most various civil talents! Caesar.Can Scipio wonder at the ingratitude of Rome to her generals? Did not he reproach her with it in the epitaph he ordered to be inscribed upon his tomb at Liternum, that mean village in Campania, to which she had driven the conqueror of Hannibal and of Carthage? I also, after subduing her most dangerous enemies, the Helvetians, the Gauls, and the Germans, after raising her name to the highest pitch of glory, should have been deprived of my province, reduced to live as a private man under the power of my enemies and the enviers of my greatness; nay, brought to a trial and condemned by the judgment of a faction, if I had not led my victorious troops to Rome, and by their assistance, after all my offers of peace had been iniquitously rejected, made myself master of a State which knew so ill how to recompense superior merit. Resentment of this, together with the secret machinations of envy, produced not long afterwards a conspiracy of senators, and even of some whom I had most obliged and loved, against my life, which they basely took away by assassination. Scipio.You say you led your victorious troops to Rome. How were they your troops? I thought the Roman armies had belonged to the Republic, not to their generals. Caesar.They did so in your time. But before I came to command them, Marius and Sylla had taught them that they belonged to their generals. And I taught the senate that a veteran army, affectionately attached to its leader, could give him all the treasures and honours of the State without asking their leave. Scipio.Just gods! did I then deliver my country from the invading Carthaginian, did I exalt it by my victories above all other nations, that it might become a richer prey to its own rebel soldiers and their ambitious commanders? Caesar.How could it be otherwise? Was it possible that the conquerors of Europe, Asia, and Africa could tamely submit to descend from their triumphal chariots and become subject to the authority of praetors and consuls elected by a populace corrupted by bribes, or enslaved to a confederacy of factious nobles, who, without regard to merit, considered all the offices and dignities of the State as hereditary possessions belonging to their families? Scipio.If I thought it no dishonour, after triumphing over Hannibal, to lay down my fasces and obey, as all my ancestors had done before me, the magistrates of the republic, such a conduct would not have dishonoured either Marius, or Sylla, or Caesar. But you all dishonoured yourselves when, instead of virtuous Romans, superior to your fellowcitizens in merit and glory, but equal to them in a due subjection to the laws, you became the enemies, the invaders, and the tyrants of your country. Caesar.Was I the enemy of my country in giving it a ruler fit to support all the majesty and weight of its empire? Did I invade it when I marched to deliver the people from the usurped dominion and insolence of a few senators? Was I a tyrant because I would not crouch under Pompey, and let him be thought my superior when I felt he was not my equal? Scipio.Pompey had given you a noble example of moderation in twice dismissing the armies, at the head of which he had performed such illustrious actions, and returning a private citizen into the bosom of his country. Caesar.His moderation was a cheat. He believed that the authority his victories had gained him would make him effectually master of the commonwealth without the help of those armies. But finding it difficult to subdue the united opposition of Crassus and me, he leagued himself with us, and in consequence of that league we three governed the empire. But, after the death of Crassus, my glorious achievements in subduing the Gauls raised such a jealousy in him that he could no longer endure me as a partner in his power, nor could I submit to degrade myself into his subject. Scipio.Am I then to understand that the civil war you engaged in was really a mere contest whether you or Pompey should remain sole lord of Rome? Caesar.Not so, for I offered, in my letters to the senate, to lay down my arms if Pompey at the same time would lay down his, and leave the republic in freedom. Nor did I resolve to draw the sword till not only the senate, overpowered by the fear of Pompey and his troops, had rejected these offers, but two tribunes of the people, for legally and justly interposing their authority in my behalf, had been forced to fly from Rome disguised in the habit of slaves, and take refuge in my camp for the safety of their persons. My camp was therefore the asylum of persecuted liberty, and my army fought to avenge the violation of the rights and majesty of the people as much as to defend the dignity of their general unjustly oppressed. Scipio.You would therefore have me think that you contended for the equality and liberty of the Romans against the tyranny of Pompey and his lawless adherents. In such a war I, myself, if I had lived in your times, would have willingly been your lieutenant. Tell me then, on the issue of this honourable enterprise, when you had subdued all your foes and had no opposition remaining to obstruct your intentions, did you establish that liberty for which you fought? Did you restore the republic to what it was in my time? Caesar.I took the necessary measures to secure to myself the fruits of my victories, and gave a head to the empire, which could neither subsist without one nor find another so well suited to the greatness of the body. Scipio.There the true character of Caesar was seen unmasked. You had managed so skilfully in the measures which preceded the civil war, your offers were so specious, and there appeared so much violence in the conduct of your enemies that, if you had fallen in that war, posterity might have doubted whether you were not a victim to the interests of your country. But your success, and the despotism you afterwards exorcised, took off those disguises and showed clearly that the aim of all your actions was tyranny. Caesar.Let us not deceive ourselves with sounds and names. That great minds should aspire to sovereign power is a fixed law of Nature. It is an injury to mankind if the highest abilities are not placed in the highest stations. Had you, Scipio, been kept down by the republican jealousy of Cato, the censor Hannibal would have never been recalled out of Italy nor defeated in Africa. And if I had not been treacherously murdered by the daggers of Brutus and Cassius, my sword would have avenged the defeat of Crassus and added the empire of Parthia to that of Rome. Nor was my government tyrannical. It was mild, humane, and bounteous. The world would have been happy under it and wished its continuance, but my death broke the pillars of the public tranquillity and brought upon the whole empire a direful scene of calamity and confusion. Scipio.You say that great minds will naturally aspire to sovereign power. But, if they are good as well as great, they will regulate their ambition by the laws of their country. The laws of Rome permitted me to aspire to the conduct of the war against Carthage; but they did not permit you to turn her arms against herself, and subject her to your will. The breach of one law of liberty is a greater evil to a nation than the loss of a province; and, in my opinion, the conquest of the whole world would not be enough to compensate for the total loss of their freedom. Caesar.You talk finely, Africanus; but ask yourself, whether the height and dignity of your mindthat noble pride which accompanies the magnanimity of a herocould always stoop to a nice conformity with the laws of your country? Is there a law of liberty more essential, more sacred, than that which obliges every member of a free community to submit himself to a trial, upon a legal charge brought against him for a public misdemeanour? In what manner did you answer a regular accusation from a tribune of the people, who charged you with embezzling the money of the State? You told your judges that on that day you had vanquished Hannibal and Carthage, and bade them follow you to the temples to give thanks to the gods. Nor could you ever be brought to stand a legal trial, or justify those accounts, which you had torn in the senate when they were questioned there by two magistrates in the name of the Roman people. Was this acting like the subject of a free State? Had your victory procured you an exemption from justice? Had it given into your hands the money of the republic without account? If it had, you were king of Rome. Pharsalia, Thapsus, and Munda could do no more for me. Scipio.I did not question the right of bringing me to a trial, but I disdained to plead in vindication of a character so unspotted as mine. My whole life had been an answer to that infamous charge. Caesar.It may be so; and, for my part, I admire the magnanimity of your behaviour. But I should condemn it as repugnant and destructive to liberty, if I did not pay more respect to the dignity of a great general, than to the forms of a democracy or the rights of a tribune. Scipio.You are endeavouring to confound my cause with yours; but they are exceedingly different. You apprehended a sentence of condemnation against you for some part of your conduct, and, to prevent it, made an impious war on your country, and reduced her to servitude. I trusted the justification of my affronted innocence to the opinion of my judges, scorning to plead for myself against a charge unsupported by any other proof than bare suspicions and surmises. But I made no resistance; I kindled no civil war; I left Rome undisturbed in the enjoyment of her liberty. Had the malice of my accusers been ever so violent, had it threatened my destruction, I should have chosen much rather to turn my sword against my own bosom than against that of my country. Caesar.You beg the question in supposing that I really hurt my country by giving her a master. When Cato advised the senate to make Pompey sole consul, he did it upon this principle, that any kind of government is preferable to anarchy. The truth of this, I presume, no man of sense will contest; and the anarchy, which that zealous defender of liberty so much apprehended, would have continued in Rome, if that power, which the urgent necessity of the State conferred upon me, had not removed it. Scipio.Pompey and you had brought that anarchy on the State in order to serve your own ends. It was owing to the corruption, the factions, and the violence which you had encouraged from an opinion that the senate would be forced to submit to an absolute power in your hands, as a remedy against those intolerable evils. But Cato judged well in thinking it eligible to make Pompey sole consul rather than you dictator, because experience had shown that Pompey respected the forms of the Roman constitution; and though he sought, by bad means as well as good, to obtain the highest magistracies and the most honourable commands, yet he laid them down again, and contented himself with remaining superior in credit to any other citizen. Caesar.If all the difference between my ambition and Pompey's was only, as you represent it, in a greater or less respect for the forms of the constitution, I think it was hardly becoming such a patriot as Cato to take part in our quarrel, much less to kill himself rather than yield to my power. Scipio.It is easier to revive the spirit of liberty in a government where the forms of it remain unchanged, than where they have been totally disregarded and abolished. But I readily own that the balance of the Roman constitution had been destroyed by the excessive and illegal authority which the people were induced to confer upon Pompey, before any extraordinary honours or commands had been demanded by you. And that is, I think, your best excuse. Caesar.Yes, surely. The favourers of the Manilian law had an ill grace in desiring to limit the commissions I obtained from the people, according to the rigour of certain absolute republican laws, no more regarded in my time than the Sybilline oracles or the pious institutions of Numa. Scipio.It was the misfortune of your time that they were not regarded. A virtuous man would not take from a deluded people such favours as they ought not to bestow. I have a right to say this because I chid the Roman people, when, overheated by gratitude for the services I had done them, they desired to make me perpetual consul and dictator. Hear this, and blush. What I refused to accept, you snatched by force. Caesar.Tiberius Gracchus reproached you with the inconsistency of your conduct, when, after refusing these offers, you so little respected the tribunitian authority. But thus it must happen. We are naturally fond of the idea of liberty till we come to suffer by it, or find it an impediment to some predominant passion; and then we wish to control it, as you did most despotically, by refusing to submit to the justice of the State. Scipio.I have answered before to that charge. Tiberius Gracchus himself, though my personal enemy, thought it became him to stop the proceedings against me, not for my sake, but for the honour of my country, whose dignity suffered with mine. Nevertheless I acknowledge my conduct in that business was not absolutely blameless. The generous pride of virtue was too strong in my mind. It made me forget I was creating a dangerous precedent in declining to plead to a legal accusation brought against me by a magistrate invested with the majesty of the whole Roman people. It made me unjustly accuse my country of ingratitude when she had shown herself grateful, even beyond the true bounds of policy and justice, by not inflicting upon me any penalty for so irregular a proceeding. But, at the same time, what a proof did I give of moderation and respect for her liberty, when my utmost resentment could impel me to nothing more violent than a voluntary retreat and quiet banishment of myself from the city of Rome! Scipio Africanus offended, and living a private man in a countryhouse at Liternum, was an example of more use to secure the equality of the Roman commonwealth than all the power of its tribunes. Caesar.I had rather have been thrown down the Tarpeian Rock than have retired, as you did, to the obscurity of a village, after acting the first part on the greatest theatre of the world. Scipio.A usurper exalted on the highest throne of the universe is not so glorious as I was in that obscure retirement. I hear, indeed, that you, Caesar, have been deified by the flattery of some of your successors. But the impartial judgment of history has consecrated my name, and ranks me in the first class of heroes and patriots; whereas, the highest praise her records, even under the dominion usurped by your family, have given to you, is, that your courage and talents were equal to the object your ambition aspired to, the empire of the world; and that you exercised a sovereignty unjustly acquired with a magnanimous clemency. But it would have been better for your country, and better for mankind, if you had never existed. DIALOGUE XXX. PLATODIOGENES. Diogenes.Plato, stand off. A true philosopher as I was, is no company for a courtier of the tyrant of Syracuse. I would avoid you as one infected with the most noisome of plaguesthe plague of slavery. Plato.He who can mistake a brutal pride and savage indecency of manners for freedom may naturally think that the being in a court (however virtuous one's conduct, however free one's language there) is slavery. But I was taught by my great master, the incomparable Socrates, that the business of true philosophy is to consult and promote the happiness of society. She must not, therefore, be confined to a tub or a cell. Her sphere is in senates or the cabinets of kings. While your sect is employed in snarling at the great or buffooning with the vulgar, she is counselling those who govern nations, infusing into their minds humanity, justice, temperance, and the love of true glory, resisting their passions when they transport them beyond the bounds of virtue, and fortifying their reason by the antidotes she administers against the poison of flattery. Diogenes.You mean to have me understand that you went to the court of the Younger Dionysius to give him antidotes against the poison of flattery. But I say he sent for you only to sweeten the cup, by mixing it more agreeably, and rendering the flavour more delicate. His vanity was too nice for the nauseous common draught; but your seasoning gave it a relish which made it go down most delightfully, and intoxicated him more than ever. Oh, there is no flatterer half so dangerous to a prince as a fawning philosopher! Plato.If you call it fawning that I did not treat him with such unmannerly rudeness as you did Alexander the Great when he visited you at Athens, I have nothing to say. But, in truth, I made my company agreeable to him, not for any mean ends which regarded only myself, but that I might be useful both to him and to his people. I endeavoured to give a right turn to his vanity; and know, Diogenes, that whosoever will serve mankind, but more especially princes, must compound with their weaknesses, and take as much pains to gain them over to virtue, by an honest and prudent complaisance, as others do to seduce them from it by a criminal adulation. Diogenes.A little of my sagacity would have shown you that if this was your purpose your labour was lost in that court. Why did not you go and preach chastity to Lais? A philosopher in a brothel, reading lectures on the beauty of continence and decency, is not a more ridiculous animal than a philosopher in the cabinet, or at the table of a tyrant, descanting on liberty and public spirit! What effect had the lessons of your famous disciple Aristotle upon Alexander the Great, a prince far more capable of receiving instruction than the Younger Dionysius? Did they hinder him from killing his best friend, Clitus, for speaking to him with freedom, or from fancying himself a god because he was adored by the wretched slaves he had vanquished? When I desired him not to stand between me and the sun, I humbled his pride more, and consequently did him more good, than Aristotle had done by all his formal precepts. Plato.Yet he owed to those precepts that, notwithstanding his excesses, he appeared not unworthy of the empire of the world. Had the tutor of his youth gone with him into Asia and continued always at his ear, the authority of that wise and virtuous man might have been able to stop him, even in the riot of conquest, from giving way to those passions which dishonoured his character. Diogenes.If he had gone into Asia, and had not flattered the king as obsequiously as Haephestion, he would, like Callisthenes, whom he sent thither as his deputy, have been put to death for high treason. The man who will not flatter must live independent, as I did, and prefer a tub to a palace. Plato.Do you pretend, Diogenes, that because you were never in a court, you never flattered? How did you gain the affection of the people of Athens but by soothing their ruling passionthe desire of hearing their superiors abused? Your cynic railing was to them the most acceptable flattery. This you well understood, and made your court to the vulgar, always envious and malignant, by trying to lower all dignity and confound all order. You made your court, I say, as servilely, and with as much offence to virtue, as the basest flatterer ever did to the most corrupted prince. But true philosophy will disdain to act either of these parts. Neither in the assemblies of the people, nor in the cabinets of kings, will she obtain favour by fomenting any bad dispositions. If her endeavours to do good prove unsuccessful, she will retire with honour, as an honest physician departs from the house of a patient whose distemper he finds incurable, or who refuses to take the remedies he prescribes. But if she succeedsif, like the music of Orpheus, her sweet persuasions can mitigate the ferocity of the multitude and tame their minds to a due obedience of laws and reverence of magistrates; or if she can form a Timoleon or a Numa Pompilius to the government of a statehow meritorious is the work! One kingnay, one minister or counsellor of stateimbued with her precepts is of more value than all the speculative, retired philosophers or cynical revilers of princes and magistrates that ever lived upon earth. Diogenes.Don't tell me of the music of Orpheus, and of his taming wild beasts. A wild beast brought to crouch and lick the hand of a master, is a much viler animal than he was in his natural state of ferocity. You seem to think that the business of philosophy is to polish men into slaves; but I say, it is to teach them to assert, with an untamed and generous spirit, their independence and freedom. You profess to instruct those who want to ride their fellowcreatures, how to do it with an easy and gentle rein; but I would have them thrown off, and trampled under the feet of all their deluded or insulted equals, on whose backs they have mounted. Which of us two is the truest friend to mankind? Plato.According to your notions all government is destructive to liberty; but I think that no liberty can subsist without government. A state of society is the natural state of mankind. They are impelled to it by their wants, their infirmities, their affections. The laws of society are rules of life and action necessary to secure their happiness in that state. Government is the due enforcing of those laws. That government is the best which does this post effectually, and most equally; and that people is the freest which is most submissively obedient to such a government. Diogenes.Show me the government which makes no other use of its power than duly to enforce the laws of society, and I will own it is entitled to the most absolute submission from all its subjects. Plato.I cannot show you perfection in human institutions. It is far more easy to blame them than it is to amend them, much may be wrong in the best: but a good man respects the laws and the magistrates of his country. Diogenes.As for the laws of my country, I did so far respect them as not to philosophise to the prejudice of the first and greatest principle of nature and of wisdom, selfpreservation. Though I loved to prate about high matters as well as Socrates, I did not choose to drink hemlock after his example. But you might as well have bid me love an ugly woman, because she was dressed up in the gown of Lais, as respect a fool or a knave, because he was attired in the robe of a magistrate. Plato.All I desired of you was, not to amuse yourself and the populace by throwing dirt upon the robe of a magistrate, merely because he wore that robe, and you did not. Diogenes.A philosopher cannot better display his wisdom than by throwing contempt on that pageantry which the ignorant multitude gaze at with a senseless veneration. Plato.He who tries to make the multitude venerate nothing is more senseless than they. Wise men have endeavoured to excite an awful reverence in the minds of the vulgar for external ceremonies and forms, in order to secure their obedience to religion and government, of which these are the symbols. Can a philosopher desire to defeat that good purpose? Diogenes.Yes, if he sees it abused to support the evil purposes of superstition and tyranny. Plato.May not the abuse be corrected without losing the benefit? Is there no difference between reformation and destruction. Diogenes.Halfmeasures do nothing. He who desires to reform must not be afraid to pull down. Plato.I know that you and your sect are for pulling down everything that is above your own level. Pride and envy are the motives that set you all to work. Nor can one wonder that passions, the influence of which is so general, should give you many disciples and many admirers. Diogenes.When you have established your Republic, if you will admit me into it I promise you to be there a most respectful subject. Plato.I am conscious, Diogenes, that my Republic was imaginary, and could never be established. But they show as little knowledge of what is practicable in politics as I did in that book, who suppose that the liberty of any civil society can be maintained by the destruction of order and decency or promoted by the petulance of unbridled defamation. Diogenes.I never knew any government angry at defamation, when it fell on those who disliked or obstructed its measures. But I well remember that the thirty tyrants at Athens called opposition to them the destruction of order and decency. Plato.Things are not altered by names. Diogenes.No, but names have a strange power to impose on weak understandings. If, when you were in Egypt, you had laughed at the worship of an onion, the priests would have called you an atheist, and the people would have stoned you. But I presume that, to have the honour of being initiated into the mysteries of that reverend hierarchy, you bowed as low to it as any of their devout disciples. Unfortunately my neck was not so pliant, and therefore I was never initiated into the mysteries either of religion or government, but was feared or hated by all who thought it their interest to make them be respected. Plato.Your vanity found its account in that fear and that hatred. The high priest of a deity or the ruler of a state is much less distinguished from the vulgar herd of mankind than the scoffer at all religion and the despiser of all dominion. But let us end our dispute. I feel my folly in continuing to argue with one who in reasoning does not seek to come at truth, but merely to show his wit. Adieu, Diogenes; I am going to converse with the shades of Pythagoras, Solon, and Bias. You may jest with Aristophanes or rail with Thersites. DIALOGUE XXXI. ARISTIDESPHOCIONDEMOSTHENES. Aristides.How could it happen that Athens, after having recovered an equality with Sparta, should be forced to submit to the dominion of Macedon when she had two such great men as Phocion and Demosthenes at the head of her State? Phocion.It happened because our opinions of her interests in foreign affairs were totally different; which made us act with a constant and pernicious opposition the one to the other. Aristides.I wish to hear from you both (if you will indulge my curiosity) on what principles you could form such contrary judgments concerning points of such moment to the safety of your country, which you equally loved. Demosthenes.My principles were the same with yours, Aristides. I laboured to maintain the independence of Athens against the encroaching ambition of Macedon, as you had maintained it against that of Persia. I saw that our own strength was unequal to the enterprise; but what we could not do alone I thought might be done by a union of the principal states of Greecesuch a union as had been formed by you and Themistocles in opposition to the Persians. To effect this was the great, the constant aim of my policy; and, though traversed in it by many whom the gold of Macedon had corrupted, and by Phocion, whom alone, of all the enemies to my system, I must acquit of corruption, I so far succeeded, that I brought into the field of Chaeronea an army equal to Philip's. The event was unfortunate; but Aristides will not judge of the merits of a statesman by the accidents of war. Phocion.Do not imagine, Aristides, that I was less desirous than Demosthenes to preserve the independence and liberty of my country. But, before I engaged the Athenians in a war not absolutely necessary, I thought it proper to consider what the event of a battle would probably be. That which I feared came to pass: the Macedonians were victorious, and Athens was ruined. Demosthenes.Would Athens not have been ruined if no battle had been fought? Could you, Phocion, think it safety to have our freedom depend on the moderation of Philip? And what had we else to protect us, if no confederacy had been formed to resist his ambition? Phocion.I saw no wisdom in accelerating the downfall of my country by a rash activity in provoking the resentment of an enemy, whose arms, I foretold, would in the issue prove superior, not only to ours, but to those of any confederacy we were able to form. My maxim was, that a state which cannot make itself stronger than any of its neighbours, should live in friendship with that power which is the strongest. But the more apparent it was that our strength was inferior to that of Macedon, the more you laboured to induce us, by all the vehemence of your oratory, to take such measures as tended to render Philip our enemy, and exasperate him more against us than any other nation. This I thought a rash conduct. It was not by orations that the dangerous war you had kindled could finally be determined; nor did your triumphs over me in an assembly of the people intimidate any Macedonian in the field of Chaeronea, or stop you yourself from flying out of that field. Demosthenes.My flight from thence, I must own, was ignominious to me; but it affects not the question we are agitating now, whether the counsels I gave to the people of Athens, as a statesman and a public minister, were right or wrong. When first I excited them to make war against Philip, the victories gained by Chabrias, in which you, Phocion, had a share (particularly that of Naxos, which completely restored to us the empire of the sea), had enabled us to maintain, not only our own liberty, but that of all Greece, in the defence of which we had formerly acquired so much glory, and which our ancestors thought so important to the safety and independence of Athens. Philip's power was but beginning, and supported itself more by craft than force. I saw, and I warned my countrymen in due time, how impolitic it would be to suffer his machinations to be carried on with success, and his strength to increase by continual acquisitions, without resistance. I exposed the weakness of that narrow, that shortsighted policy, which looked no farther than to our own immediate borders, and imagined that whatsoever lay out of those bounds was foreign to our interests, and unworthy of our care. The force of my remonstrances roused the Athenians to a more vigilant conduct. Then it was that the orators whom Philip had corrupted loudly inveighed against me, as alarming the people with imaginary dangers, and drawing them into quarrels in which they had really no concern. This language, and the fair professions of Philip, who was perfectly skilled in the royal art of dissembling, were often so prevalent, that many favourable opportunities of defeating his designs were unhappily lost. Yet sometimes, by the spirit with which I animated the Athenians and other neighbouring states, I stopped the progress of his arms, and opposed to him such obstacles as cost him much time and much labour to remove. You yourself, Phocion, at the head of fleets and armies sent against him by decrees which I had proposed, vanquished his troops in Eubaea, and saved from him Byzantium, with other cities of our allies on the coasts of the Hellespont, from which you drove him with shame. Phocion.The proper use of those advantages was to secure a peace to Athens, which they inclined him to keep. His ambition was checked, but his forces were not so much diminished as to render it safe to provoke him to further hostilities. Demosthenes.His courage and policy were indeed so superior to ours that, notwithstanding his defeats, he was soon in a condition to pursue the great plan of conquest and dominion which he had formed long before, and from which he never desisted. Thus, through indolence on our side and activity on his, things were brought to such a crisis that I saw no hope of delivering all Greece from his yoke, but by confederating against him the Athenians and the Thebans, which league I effected. Was it not better to fight for the independence of our country in conjunction with Thebes than alone? Would a battle lost in Boeotia be so fatal to Athens as one lost in our own territory and under our own walls? Phocion.You may remember that when you were eagerly urging this argument I desired you to consider, not where we should fight, but how we should be conquerors; for, if we were vanquished, all sorts of evils and dangers would be instantly at our gates. Aristides.Did not you tell me, Demosthenes, when you began to speak upon this subject, that you brought into the field of Chaeronea an army equal to Philip's? Demosthenes.I did, and believe that Phocion will not contradict me. Aristides.But, though equal in number, it was, perhaps, much inferior to the Macedonians in valour and military discipline. Demosthenes.The courage shown by our army excited the admiration of Philip himself, and their discipline was inferior to none in Greece. Aristides.What then occasioned their defeat? Demosthenes.The bad conduct of their generals. Aristides.Why was the command not given to Phocion, whose abilities had been proved on so many other occasions? Was it offered to him, and did he refuse to accept it? You are silent, Demosthenes. I understand your silence. You are unwilling to tell me that, having the power, by your influence over the people, to confer the command on what Athenian you pleased, you were induced, by the spirit of party, to lay aside a great general who had been always successful, who had the chief confidence of your troops and of your allies, in order to give it to men zealous indeed for your measures and full of military ardour, but of little capacity or experience in the conduct of a war. You cannot plead that, if Phocion had led your troops against Philip, there was any danger of his basely betraying his trust. Phocion could not be a traitor. You had seen him serve the Republic and conquer for it in wars, the undertaking of which he had strenuously opposed, in wars with Philip. How could you then be so negligent of the safety of your country as not to employ him in this, the most dangerous of all she ever had waged? If Chares and Lysicles, the two generals you chose to conduct it, had commanded the Grecian forces at Marathon and Plataea we should have lost those battles. All the men whom you sent to fight the Macedonians under such leaders were victims to the animosity between you and Phocion, which made you deprive them of the necessary benefit of his wise direction. This I think the worst blemish of your administration. In other parts of your conduct I not only acquit but greatly applaud and admire you. With the sagacity of a most consummate statesman you penetrated the deepest designs of Philip, you saw all the dangers which threatened Greece from that quarter while they were yet at a distance, you exhorted your countrymen to make a timely provision for their future security, you spread the alarm through all the neighbouring states, you combined the most powerful in a confederacy with Athens, you carried the war out of Attica, which (let Phocion say what he will) was safer than meeting it there, you brought it, after all that had been done by the enemy to strengthen himself and weaken us, after the loss of Amphipolis, Olynthus, and Potidaea, the outguards of Athens, you brought it, I say, to the decision of a battle with equal forces. When this could be effected there was evidently nothing so desperate in our circumstances as to justify an inaction which might probably make them worse, but could not make them better. Phocion thinks that a state which cannot itself be the strongest should live in friendship with that power which is the strongest. But in my opinion such friendship is no better than servitude. It is more advisable to endeavour to supply what is wanting in our own strength by a conjunction with others who are equally in danger. This method of preventing the ruin of our country was tried by Demosthenes. Nor yet did he neglect, by all practicable means, to augment at the same time our internal resources. I have heard that when he found the Public Treasure exhausted he replenished it, with very great peril to himself, by bringing into it money appropriated before to the entertainment of the people, against the express prohibition of a popular law, which made it death to propose the application thereof to any other use. This was virtue, this was true and genuine patriotism. He owed all his importance and power in the State to the favour of the people; yet, in order to serve the State, he did not fear, at the evident hazard of his life, to offend their darling passion and appeal against it to their reason. Phocion.For this action I praise him. It was, indeed, far more dangerous for a minister at Athens to violate that absurd and extravagant law than any of those of Solon. But though he restored our finances, he could not restore our lost virtue; he could not give that firm health, that vigour to the State, which is the result of pure morals, of strict order and civil discipline, of integrity in the old, and obedience in the young. I therefore dreaded a conflict with the solid strength of Macedon, where corruption had yet made but a very small progress, and was happy that Demosthenes did not oblige me, against my own inclination, to be the general of such a people in such war. Aristides.I fear that your just contempt of the greater number of those who composed the democracy so disgusted you with this mode and form of government, that you were as averse to serve under it as others with less ability and virtue than you were desirous of obtruding themselves into its service. But though such a reluctance proceeds from a very noble cause, and seems agreeable to the dignity of a great mind in bad times, yet it is a fault against the highest of moral obligationsthe love of our country. For, how unworthy soever individuals may be, the public is always respectable, always dear to the virtuous. Phocion.True; but no obligation can lie upon a citizen to seek a public charge when he foresees that his obtaining of it will be useless to his country. Would you have had me solicit the command of an army which I believed would be beaten? Aristides.It is not permitted to a State to despair of its safety till its utmost efforts have been made without success. If you had commanded the army at Chaeronea you might possibly have changed the event of the day; but, if you had not, you would have died more honourably there than in a prison at Athens, betrayed by a vain confidence in the insecure friendship of a perfidious Macedonian. DIALOGUE XXXII. MARCUS AURELIUS PHILOSOPHUSSERVIUS TULLIUS. Servius Tullius.Yes, Marcus, though I own you to have been the first of mankind in virtue and goodnessthough, while you governed, Philosophy sat on the throne and diffused the benign influences of her administration over the whole Roman Empireyet as a king I might, perhaps, pretend to a merit even superior to yours. Marcus Aurelius.That philosophy you ascribe to me has taught me to feel my own defects, and to venerate the virtues of other men. Tell me, therefore, in what consisted the superiority of your merit as a king. Servius Tullius.It consisted in thisthat I gave my people freedom. I diminished, I limited the kingly power, when it was placed in my hands. I need not tell you that the plan of government instituted by me was adopted by the Romans when they had driven out Tarquin, the destroyer of their liberty; and gave its form to that republic, composed of a due mixture of the regal, aristocratical, and democratical powers, the strength and wisdom of which subdued the world. Thus all the glory of that great people, who for many ages excelled the rest of mankind in the arts of war and of policy, belongs originally to me. Marcus Aurelius.There is much truth in what you say. But would not the Romans have done better if, after the expulsion of Tarquin, they had vested the regal power in a limited monarch, instead of placing it in two annual elective magistrates with the title of consuls? This was a great deviation from your plan of government, and, I think, an unwise one. For a divided royalty is a solecisman absurdity in politics. Nor was the regal power committed to the administration of consuls continued in their hands long enough to enable them to finish any difficult war or other act of great moment. From hence arose a necessity of prolonging their commands beyond the legal term; of shortening the interval prescribed by the laws between the elections to those offices; and of granting extraordinary commissions and powers, by all which the Republic was in the end destroyed. Servius Tullius.The revolution which ensued upon the death of Lucretia was made with so much anger that it is no wonder the Romans abolished in their fury the name of king, and desired to weaken a power the exercise of which had been so grievous, though the doing this was attended with all the inconveniences you have justly observed. But, if anger acted too violently in reforming abuses, philosophy might have wisely corrected that error. Marcus Aurelius might have newmodelled the constitution of Rome. He might have made it a limited monarchy, leaving to the emperors all the power that was necessary to govern a wideextended empire, and to the Senate and people all the liberty that could be consistent with order and obedience to governmenta liberty purged of faction and guarded against anarchy. Marcus Aurelius.I should have been happy indeed if it had been in my power to do such good to my country. But the gods themselves cannot force their blessings on men who by their vices are become incapable to receive them. Liberty, like power, is only good for those who possess it when it is under the constant direction of virtue. No laws can have force enough to hinder it from degenerating into faction and anarchy, where the morals of a nation are depraved; and continued habits of vice will eradicate the very love of it out of the hearts of a people. A Marcus Brutus in my time could not have drawn to his standard a single legion of Romans. But, further, it is certain that the spirit of liberty is absolutely incompatible with the spirit of conquest. To keep great conquered nations in subjection and obedience, great standing armies are necessary. The generals of those armies will not long remain subjects; and whoever acquires dominion by the sword must rule by the sword. If he does not destroy liberty, liberty will destroy him. Servius Tullius.Do you then justify Augustus for the change he made in the Roman government? Marcus Aurelius.I do not, for Augustus had no lawful authority to make that change. His power was usurpation and breach of trust. But the government which he seized with a violent hand came to me by a lawful and established rule of succession. Servius Tullius.Can any length of establishment make despotism lawful? Is not liberty an inherent, inalienable right of mankind? Marcus Aurelius.They have an inherent right to be governed by laws, not by arbitrary will. But forms of government may, and must, be occasionally changed, with the consent of the people. When I reigned over them the Romans were governed by laws. Servius Tullius.Yes, because your moderation and the precepts of that philosophy in which your youth had been tutored inclined you to make the laws the rules of your government and the bounds of your power. But if you had desired to govern otherwise, had they power to restrain you? Marcus Aurelius.They had not. The imperial authority in my time had no limitations. Servius Tullius.Rome therefore was in reality as much enslaved under you as under your son; and you left him the power of tyrannising over it by hereditary right? Marcus Aurelius.I did; and the conclusion of that tyranny was his murder. Servius Tullius.Unhappy father! unhappy king! what a detestable thing is absolute monarchy when even the virtues of Marcus Aurelius could not hinder it from being destructive to his family and pernicious to his country any longer than the period of his own life. But how happy is that kingdom in which a limited monarch presides over a state so justly poised that it guards itself from such evils, and has no need to take refuge in arbitrary power against the dangers of anarchy, which is almost as bad a resource as it would be for a ship to run itself on a rock in order to escape from the agitation of a tempest. GIPHANTIA: OR A VIEW of WHAT HAS PASSED, WHAT IS NOW PASSING, And, during the PRESENT Century, WHAT WILL PASS, IN THE WORLD. Translated from the original FRENCH, With explanatory Notes. LONDON. Printed for ROBERT HORSFIELD, in LudgateStreet. 1761.  TO THE Honble MISS ROSS. MADAM, Upon your hearing the other day Giphantia much praised by some friends, and those no ill judges, you expressed a desire to see it in English, as you had not, you said, French enough to read the original. I immediately resolved to gratify your desire, and that very day sat about the translation. It is now finished: and, as my hand is not very legible, I take the liberty to address it to you in print with this Epistle Dedicatory; which, as neither you, nor the Author, want any encomiums, nor the Translator any excuses, I shall cut short, and beg leave to subscribe myself with great respect and sincerity, Madam, Your most obedient and most humble servant, Feb. 5, 1761. The Translator. TABLE OF THE CHAPTERS. PART I. Page INTRODUCTION 1 CHAP. I. THE HURRICANE 4 CHAP. II. THE FINE PROSPECT 9 CHAP. III. THE VOICE 13 CHAP. IV. THE REVERSE 16 CHAP. V. THE APPARITIONS 24 CHAP. VI. THE SURFACES 27 CHAP. VII. THE GLOBE 34 CHAP. VIII. THE DISCOURSES 38 CHAP. IX. HAPPINESS 46 CHAP. X. THE HODGEPODGE 51 CHAP. XI. THE MIRROUR 56 CHAP. XII. THE TRIAL 63 CHAP. XIII. THE TALENTS 73 CHAP. XIV. THE TASTE OF THE AGE 79 CHAP. XV. THE FEMALE REASONER 82 CHAP. XVI. THE CROCODILES 85 CHAP. XVII. THE STORM 93 CHAP. XVIII. THE GALLERY 99 CHAP. XIX. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GALLERY 116 Illustration  GIPHANTIA. PART THE FIRST. INTRODUCTION. No man ever had a stronger inclination for travelling than myself. I considerd the whole earth as my country, and all mankind as my brethren, and therefore thought it incumbent upon me to travel thro the earth and visit my brethren. I have walkd over the ruins of the antient world, have viewd the monuments of modern pride, and, at the sight of alldevouring time, have wept over both. I have often found great folly among the nations that pass for the most civilizd, and sometimes as great wisdom among those that are counted the most savage. I have seen small states supported by virtue, and mighty empires shaken by vice, whilst a mistaken policy has been employd to inrich the subjects, without any endeavours to render them virtuous. After having gone over the whole world and visited all the inhabitants, I find it does not answer the pains I have taken. I have just been reviewing my memoirs concerning the several nations, their prejudices, their customs and manners, their politicks, their laws, their religion, their history; and I have thrown them all into the fire. It grieves me to record such a monstrous mixture of humanity and barbarousness, of grandeur and meanness, of reason and folly. The small part, I have preservd, is what I am now publishing. If it has no other merit, certainly it has novelty to recommend it. Illustration CHAP. I. THE HURRICANE. I was on the borders of Guinea towards the desarts that bound it on the North. I contemplated the immense wilds, the very idea of which shocks the firmest mind. On a sudden I was seized with an ardent desire to penetrate into those desarts and see how far nature denies herself to mankind. Perhaps (said I) among these scorching plains there is some fertile spot unknown to the rest of the world. Perhaps I shall find men who have neither been polished nor corrupted by commerce with others. In vain did I represent to myself the dangers and even the almost certain death to which such an enterprize would expose me; I could not drive the thought out of my head. One winters day (for it was in the dogdays) the wind being southwest, the sky clear, and the air temperate, furnished with something to asswage hunger and thirst, with a glassmask to save my eyes from the clouds of sands, and with a compass to guide my steps, I sate out from the borders of Guinea and advanced into the desart. I went on two whole days without seeing any thing extraordinary: in the beginning of the third I perceived all around me nothing but a few almost sapless shrubs and some tufts of rushes, most of which were dried up by the heat of the sun. These are natures last productions in those barren regions; here her teeming virtue stops, nor can life be farther extended in those frightful solitudes. I had scarce continued my course two hours over a sandy soil, where the eye meets no object but scattered rocks, when the wind growing higher, began to put in motion the surface of the sands. At first, the sand only played about the foot of the rocks and formed small waves which lightly skimmed over the plain. Such are the little billows which are seen to rise and gently roll on the surface of the water when the sea begins to grow rough at the approach of a storm. The sandy waves soon became larger, dashed and broke one another; and I was exposed to the most dreadful of hurricanes. Frequent whirlwinds arose, which collecting the sands carried them in rapid gyrations to a vast height with horrible whistlings. Instantly after, the sands, left to themselves, fell down in strait lines and formed mountains. Clouds of dust were mixed with the clouds of the atmosphere, and heaven and earth seemed jumbled together. Sometimes the thickness of the whirlwinds deprived me entirely of the light of the sun: and sometimes red transparent sands shone from afar: the air appeared in a blaze, and the sky seemed dissolved into sparks of fire. Mean time, now tossed into the air by a sudden gust of wind, and now hurled down by my own weight, I found myself one while in clouds of sand, and another while in a gulf. Every moment I should have been either buried or dashed in pieces, had not a benevolent Being (who will appear presently) protected me from all harm. The terrible hurricane ceased with the day: the night was calm, and weariness overcoming my fears, I fell asleep. Illustration CHAP. II. THE FINE PROSPECT. The sun was not yet risen, when I wakd: but the first rays enlightend the east and objects began to be visible. Sleep had recoverd my strength and calmd my spirits: when I was awake, my fears returnd, and the image of death presented itself again to my anxious thoughts. I was standing on a high rock, from whence I could view every thing round me. I cast, with horror, my eyes on that sandy region, where I thought I should have found my grave. What was my surprise when towards the north I spied an even, vast and fertile plain! From a state of the profoundest sorrow in an instant I passd (which usually requires time) to a state of the highest joy; nature put on a new face; and the frightful view of so many rocks confusedly dispersd among the sands servd only to render more affecting and more agreeable the prospect of that delightful plain, I was going to enter. O nature! how admirable are thy distributions! how wisely managd the various scenes thou presentest to our sight! The plants, which grow on the edge of the plain are very small; the soil does not yet supply sufficient moisture: but as you advance, vegetation flourishes, and gives them a larger size and more height. The trees are seen to rise by degrees and soon afford a shelter under their boughs. At last, trees coeval with the world appear with their tops in the clouds and form an immense amphitheatre which majestically displays itself to the eyes of the traveller and proclaims that such a habitation is not made for mortals. Every thing seemd new to me in this unknown land; every thing threw me into astonishment. Not any of Natures productions which my eyes eagerly ran over resembles those that are seen any where else. Trees, plants, insects, reptiles, fishes, birds, all were formd in a manner extraordinary, and at the same time elegant and infinitely varied. But what struck me with the greatest wonder, was that an universal sensibility, cloathd with all imaginable forms animated the bodies that seemd the least susceptible of it: even to the very plants all gave signs of sensation. I walkd on slowly in this enchanted abode. A delicious coolness kept my senses open to the pleasure; a sweet scent glided into my blood with the air I breathd; my heart beat with an unusual force: and joy enlightend my soul in its most gloomy recesses. Illustration CHAP. III. THE VOICE. One thing surprised me: I did not see any inhabitants in these gardens of delight. I know not how many ideas disturbed my mind on that occasion, when a voice struck my ears, uttering these words: Stop and look stedfastly before thee; behold him who has inspired thee to undertake so dangerous a voyage. Amazed, I looked a good while and saw nothing: at last I perceived a sort of spot, a kind of shade fixed in the air a few paces from me. I continued to look at it more attentively, and fancied, I saw a human form with a countenance so mild and ingaging that instead of being terrified, the sight was to me a fresh motive of joy. I am (said the benevolent Shade) the Prefect of this Island. Thy inclination to Philosophy has prepossessed me in thy favour: I have followed thee in thy late journey and defended thee from the hurricane. I will now show thee the rarities of the place; and then I will take care to restore thee safe to thy country. This Solitude with which thou art so charmed, stands in the midst of a tempestuous ocean of moving sands; it is an island surrounded with inaccessible desarts, which no mortal can pass without a supernatural aid. Its name is GIPHANTIA. It was given to the elementary spirits, the day before the Garden of Eden was allotted to the parent of mankind. Not that the spirits spend their time here in ease and sloth. What would you do, O ye feeble mortals! If dispersed in the air, in the sea, in the bowels of the earth, in the sphere of fire, they did not incessantly watch for your welfare? Without our care, the unbridled elements would long since have effaced all remains of the human kind. Why cannot we preserve you entirely from their disorderly sallies? Alass! our power extends not so far: we cannot totally screen you from all the evils that surround you: we only prevent your utter destruction. It is here the elementary spirits come to refresh themselves after their labours; it is here they hold their assemblies, and concert the best measures for the administration of the elements. CHAP. IV. THE REVERSE. Of all the Countries in the world (added the Prefect) Giphantia is the only one where nature still preserves her primitive vigor. She is incessantly labouring to increase the numerous tribes of Vegetables and Animals, and to produce new kinds. She organizes all with admirable skill; but she does not always succeed, in rendering them perpetual. The Mechanism of propagation is the masterpiece of her wisdom: sometimes she fails and her productions return for ever into nothing. We cherish, with our utmost care, such as are sufficiently organized to produce their kind; and then plant them out in the Earth. A Naturalist wonders sometimes to find plants that had never been noticed before: it is because we had just then supplied the earth with them, of which he had not the least suspicion. Sometimes also these Exotics not meeting with a proper Climate, decay by degrees and the species is lost. Such are those productions which are mentiond by the Antients and which the Moderns complain are no where to be found. Such a plant still subsists but has long droopd, and lost its qualities, and deceives the Physician who is daily disappointed. The Art is blamd; it is not known that the fault is in Nature. I have now a collection of new simples of the greatest virtue; and I should have imparted them to mankind before now, had there not been strong reasons to induce me to delay it. For instance, I have a sovereign plant to fix the human mind, and which would give steadiness even to a Babylonian: but for these fifty years I have been diligently observing Babylon, and have not found one single moment, wherein the Inclinations, Customs, and Manners have been worth fixing. I have another plant, most excellent for checking the too lively sallies of the spirit of invention: but thou knowest how rare these sallies are nowadays: never was invention at a lower ebb. One would think that every thing has been said, and that nothing more remained but to adapt things to the taste and mode of the age. I have a root which would never fail to allay that sourness of the Learned who censure one another: but I observe that without their abusing and railing at each other, no man would concern himself about their disputes. It is a sort of pleasure to see them bring themselves as well as Learning into contempt. I leave the malignity of the readers to divert themselves with the malignity of the Authors. Moreover, do not imagine that nature sleeps in any part of the earth; she strenuously labours even in those infinitely minute spaces where the eye cannot reach. At Giphantia, she disposes matter on extraordinary plans, and perpetually tends to produce something new: she every where incessantly repeats her labours, still endeavouring to carry her works to a degree of perfection which she never attains. These flowers which so agreeably strike the eye, she strives to render still more beautiful. These animals, which to you seem so dextrous, she endeavours to render still more so. In short, Man that to you appears so superior to the rest, she tries to render still more perfect; but in this her endeavours prove the most unsuccessful. Indeed, one would think that mankind do all in their power to remain in a much lower rank than nature designs them! and they seldom fail to turn to their hurt the best dispositions she gives them for their Good. On the Babylonians, for instance, nature has bestowed an inexhaustible fund of agreeableness. Her aim was manifestly to form a people the most aimable. They were made to enliven reason, to root out the thorns that spring from the approaches of the sciences, to soften the austerity of wisdom, and, if possible, to adorn virtue. Thou knowest it: her favours which should have been diffused on these objects have been diverted from their destination; and frivolousness and debauchery have been cloathed with them. In the hands of the Babylonians, vice loses all her deformity. Behold in their manners, their discourses, their writings, with what discretion vice unveils herself, with what art she ingages, with what address she insinuates: you have not yet thought of her, and she is seated in your heart. Even he who, by his function, lifts up his voice against her, dares not paint her in her true colours. In a word, no where does vice appear less vice than at Babylon. Even to the very names, all things are changed, all things are softened. The sincere and honest are nowadays your modish men who are outwardly all complaisance but inwardly full of corruption: Good company are not the Virtuous but those who excel in palliating vice. The man of fortitude is not he that bears the shocks of fortune unmoved, but he that braves Providence. Barefaced Irreligion is now styled freethinking, blasphemy is called boldness of speech, and the most shameful excesses, Gallantry. Thus it is that with what they might become a pattern to all nations, the Babylonians (to say no worse) are grown libertines of the most seducing and most dangerous kind. Illustration CHAP. V. THE APPARITIONS. I return (continues the Prefect of Giphantia) to the elementary spirits. Their constant abode in the air, always full of vapours and exhalations; in the sea, ever mixed with salts and earths; in the fire, perpetually used about a thousand heterogeneous bodies; in the earth, where all the other elements are blended together: this abode, I say, by degrees spoils the pure essence of the spirits, whose original nature is to be (as to their material substance) all fire, all air, or other unmixt element. This degradation has sometimes gone so far, as that by the mixture of the different elements, the spirits have acquired a sufficient consistence to render them visible. People have seen them in the fire and called them Salamanders, and Cyclops: they have seen them in the air and called them Sylphs, Zephyrs, Aquilons: they have seen them in the water and called them Seanymphs, Naiads, Nereids, Tritons: they have seen them in caverns, desarts, woods, and have called them Gnomes, Sylvans, Fauns, Satyrs, c. From the astonishment caused by these Apparitions, men sunk into fear, and fear begot superstition. To these, Creatures like themselves, they erected altars which belong only to the Creator. Their imagination magnifying what they had seen, they soon formed a Hierarchy of Chimerical Deities. The Sun appeared to them a luminous chariot guided by Apollo through the celestial plains; Thunder, a fiery bolt darted by Jupiter at the heads of the guilty: the Ocean, a vast empire, where Neptune ruled the waves: the bowels of the earth, the gloomy residence of Pluto, where he gave laws to the pale and timorous Ghosts: in a word, they filled the world with Gods and Goddesses. The Earth itself became a Deity. When the elementary Spirits perceived how apt their Apparitions were to lead men into error, they took measures to be no longer visible: they devised a sort of refiner by which from time to time they get rid of all extraneous matter. From thence forward, no mortal eye has ever seen the least glimpse of these spirits. CHAP. VI. THE SURFACES. Mean while the Prefect moved on and I followed, quite astonished and pensive. At our coming out of the wood we found ourselves before a hill, at the foot of which stood a hollow column above a hundred feet high and thick in proportion. I saw issuing out of the top of the column vapours (much like the exhalations raised by the sun) in such abundance that they were very visible. From the same column I saw coming out and dispersing themselves in the air certain human forms, certain images still lighter than the vapours by which they were supported. Behold (says the Prefect) the Refiner of the Elementary Spirits. The column is filled with four Essences, each of which has been extracted from each element. The Spirits plunge into them, and by a mechanism, too long to be described, get rid of all extraneous matter. The images which thou seest coming out of the column, are nothing more than very thin surfaces which surrounded them and served to make them visible. These surfaces partake of the different qualities of the spirits who excel more or less in certain respects, as visages are expressive of the characters of men, who differ infinitely. Thus, there are images or surfaces of science, of learning, of prudence, of wisdom, c. Men often cloath themselves with them, and like masks these surfaces make them appear very different from what they really are. Hence it is that you constantly meet with the appearance of every good, of every virtue and every quality, though the things themselves are scarce to be found any where. At Babylon especially, these surfaces are in singular esteem: all is seen there in appearance. A Babylonian had rather be nothing and appear every thing than to be every thing and appear nothing. So, you see only surfaces every where and of every kind. Surface of modesty, the only thing needful for a Babylonian lady: it is called decency. Surface of friendship, by the means of which all Babylon seems to be but one family. Friendship is like a strong band made of very weak threads twisted together. A Babylonian is tied to no one by the band, but he is tied to each of his fellowcitizens by a single thread. Surface of piety, formerly much in use and of great influence, nowadays totally in disrepute. It gives people a certain Gothic air quite ridiculous in the eyes of the moderns. It is now found only among a few adherents to the old bigots, and in an order of men, who, on account of their function, cannot lay it aside, how desirous soever they may be. Surface of opulence, one of the most striking things in Babylon. Behold in the Temples, in the Assemblies, in the publick Walks, those citizens so richly dressed, those women so adorned, those children so neat, so lively, and who promise so fair to be one day as frivolous as their fathers: follow them to their homes; furniture of the best taste, commodious apartments, houses like little palaces, all continues to proclaim opulence. But stop there: if you go any farther, you will see families in distress and hearts overflowing with cares. Surface of probity, for the use of Politicians and those who concern themselves with the management of others. These great men cannot be as honest as the lower people; they have certain maxims from which they think it essential never to depart, and from which it is no less essential that they appear extremely remote. Surface of patriotism, of which the real substance has long since disappeared. We must distinguish, in the conduct of the Babylonians, between the Theory and the Practice. The Theory turns entirely upon Patriotism. Publick Good, national Interest, Glory of the Babylonian Name, all this is the language of Theory. The Practice hangs solely upon the hinge of private interest. It is very remarkable that in this respect the Babylonians have long been dupes of one another. Each plainly perceived that Country did not much affect him; but he heard others talk of it so often and so affectionately that he verily believed there was still such a thing as a true Patriot. But now their eyes are open and they see that all are alike. Illustration CHAP. VII. THE GLOBE. Such is the lot of the elementary spirits, continued the Prefect of Giphantia. No sooner are they out of the probationcolumn where they are purified, but they return to their usual labours: and to see where their presence is most necessary, and where men have most need of their assistance. At their coming out of the column they ascend this hill. There by a mechanism which required the utmost skill of the spirits, every thing that passes in all parts of the world is seen and heard. Thou art going to try the experiment thy self. On each side of the column is a large staircase of above a hundred steps which leads to the top of the hill. We went up; and were scarce half way when my ears were struck with a disagreeable humming which increased as we advanced. When we came to a platform in which the hill ends, the first thing that struck my eyes was a Globe of a considerable diameter. From the Globe proceeded the noise which I heard. At a distance it was a humming; nearer, it was a frightful thundering noise, formed by a confused mixture of shouts for joy, ravings of despair, shrieks, complaints, singings, murmurs, acclamations, laughter, groans, and whatever proclaims the immoderate sorrow and extravagant joy of mortals. Small imperceptible pipes (said the Prefect) come from each point of the earths surface and end at this Globe. The inside is organized so that the motion of the air which is propagated through the imperceptible pipes, and grows weaker in time, resumes fresh force at the entrance into the Globe and becomes sensible again. Hence these noises and hummings. But what would these confused sounds signify, if means were not found to distinguish them? Behold the image of the earth painted on the Globe; the Islands, the Continents, the Oceans which surround, join, and divide all. Dost thou not see Europe, that quarter of the earth that hath done so much mischief to the other three? Burning Africa, where the arts and the wants that attend them have never penetrated? Asia, whose luxury, passing to the European nations, has done so much good, according to some, and so much hurt, according to others! America, still dyed with the blood of its unhappy inhabitants, whom men of a religion, that breathes peace and goodwill, came to convert and barbarously murder? Observe what point of the Globe, thou pleases. Place there the end of this rod which I give thee, and putting the other end to thy ear, thou shalt hear distinctly whatever is said in the corresponding part of the earth. Illustration CHAP. VIII. DISCOURSES. Surprised at this prodigy, I put the end of the rod upon Babylon; I applied my ear, and heard what follows: Since you consult me about this writing, I will fairly give you my opinion. I think it discreet and too much so. What! not a word against the government, against the manners, against religion! who will read you? If you did but know how tired people are with History, Morality, Phylosophy, Verse, Prose, and all that! The whole world are turned writers; and you will more easily find an author than a reader. How make impression on the crowd? How draw attention, unless by strokes levelled, right or wrong, against placemen; by luscious touches of imagination proper to excite the gust of pleasures blunted by excess; by the trite arguments which, though repeated a thousand times, still please, because they attack what we dread! This in my opinion is the only course for a writer to take who has any pretensions to fame. Mind our Philosophers: when they reflect, for instance, on the nature of the soul, they fall into a doubt which with all their reason they cannot get out of. Do they come to write? They resolve the difficulty, and the soul is mortal. If they assert this, it is not from an inward persuasion, but from a desire to write, and to write such things, as will be read. Again, if you had made yourself a party: if you belonged to one of those clubs, where the Censor passes from hand to hand, and where each, in his turn, is the Idol! But no; you are among the literary cabals like a divine who should pretend to be neither Jansenist nor Molinist1. Who, think ye, will take care of your interests? Who will preach you up? Who will inlist your name among those we respect? I removed the end of the rod about a twentieth part of an inch lower and I heard, probably, a Farmer of the imposts, who was making his calculations upon the people. Is it not true (said he) that in the occasions of the state, every one should contribute in proportion to his means, after a deduction of his necessary expences? Is it not also true, that a very short man spends less in cloaths than a very tall one? Is it not true that this difference of expence is very considerable, since there is occasion for summerhabits, winterhabits, springhabits, autumnhabits, countryhabits, ridinghabits, and I know not how many others? There should be likewise morning and evening habits; but the morning is not known at Babylon. I would therefore have all his Majestys subjects measured and taxed each inversely as his stature.... Another consideration of equal weight. A Tax on Batchelors has been talked of; but it was not considered. Money should be raised upon those who are rich enough to be married, and especially upon those who are rich enough to venture upon having children. And therefore married men should be taxed in a ratio compounded of the amount of their capitation and the number of their children. I have in my pocketbook I know not how many projects as good as these, and which I have very luckily devised. Each man has his talents: this is mine: and it is well known how much it is to be prized nowadays. At a little distance a Grammarian was making his Observations. Three languages (said he) are spoken at Babylon: that of the mob: that of the petit maitre; and that of the better sort. The first serves to express in a disagreeable manner, shocking things. With all their judgment, some authors have written in this language, and the Babylonians, with all their niceness, have read them with pleasure. The second is made up of a certain contexture of words without any meaning. You may talk this language a whole day together, and when you have done, it will be found you have said nothing at all. To enter into the character of the idiom, it is essential to talk incessantly without reason, and as far as possible from common sense. The third wants a certain precision; a certain force and certain graces; but it is susceptible of a singular elegance and clearness. It will not perhaps be expressive enough of the flights of the poet or the transports of the musician: but it expresses with admirable ease all the ideas of him who observes, compares, discusses, and seeks the truth. Without doubt, it is the properest language for reasoning; and most unhappily it is the least used for that purpose. Methought I heard a womans voice at a little distance, and put my rod there. I confess (said she) I am foolishly fond of this romance. Nothing can be better penned. However, this same Julia, who holds out during three volumes, and does not surrender till the end of the fourth, makes the intrigue a little too tedious. It is also pity that the viscount advances so slowly. He uses such preambles, spends so much time in protestations, and presses his conquest with so much caution, that he has put me, who am none of the liveliest, a hundred times out of patience. Surely the author was little acquainted with the manners of the nation! Illustration CHAP. IX. HAPPINESS. The end of my rod by chance fell upon an assembly, where they were talking of Happiness. Each declared his opinion as follows: At length (says one) this superb Colonnade is laid open; they think of removing those pitiful little houses which darken that grand and beautiful front; they repent of having built under ground to adorn a place; Taste is reviving; the Arts are going to flourish: very shortly Babylon will proclaim the magnificence of the monarch and the happiness of the people.... It is a great question whether colonnades, fine squares, and large cities, will make a nation happy: they must be enriched. Industry must be excited, agriculture incouraged, manufactures increased, and trade made to flourish: without which, all the rest is nothing.... Nonsense! I have said it, and I say it again: if we will be happy, our manners must be more simple; the circle of our wants contracted; and, in a countrylife, we must withdraw from the vices which attend the luxury of cities.... I do not know wherein consists the happiness of nations; but I think the happiness of individuals consists in the health of the body and peace of the mind.... Assuredly not. Health causes no lively impression, and tranquility is tiresome. To be happy, you must enjoy a great reputation; for, at every instant, your ear will be tickled with encomiums.... Yes! and at every instant your ear will be grated with censures, because there is no pleasing every body. It is my opinion, every man is happy in proportion to his authority and power: for one can gratify oneself in the same proportion.... Yes! but then that eagerness will be wanting which stamps a value upon things: if all was in our power, we should care for nothing. For my part, I am of opinion, that to be happy we must despise all things; that is the only way to avoid all kind of vexation and trouble whatsoever.... And I think, we should concern ourselves with every thing: by that means we shall partake of every occasion of joy.... Now I think we should be indifferent to every thing: as the means of enjoying an unchangeable happiness.... I take Wisdom to be the thing, for that alone will set us above all events.... And I say, it must be Folly: for Folly creates her own happiness, independently of any thing cross or disagreeable about her.... You are all of you in the wrong. Nothing general can be assigned that may be productive of the happiness of particular persons. So many men, so many minds: this desires one kind of happiness, and that another: one wishes for riches, another is content with necessaries; this would love and be loved; that considers the passions as the bane of the soul. Every one must study himself and follow his own inclination.... Not at all; and you are as much mistaken as the rest. In vain do I persuade myself that I should be happy, if I possessed such a thing; the moment I have it, I find it insufficient, and wish for another. We desire without end; and never enjoy. A certain man was continually travelling about, and always on foot: quite tired out, he said: If I had a horse I should be contented. He had a horse; but the rain, the cold, the sun were still troublesome to him. A horse (says he) is not sufficient; a chariot only can screen me from the inclemencies of the air. His fortune increased, and a chariot was bought. What followed? Exercise till then had kept our traveller in health: as soon as that ceased, he grew infirm and gouty, and presently after, it was not possible for him to travel either on foot or on horseback or in a chariot. CHAP. X. THE HODGEPODGE. I did not keep the rod any longer in one place; but moved it here and there without distinction: and I heard only broken discourses, such as these: War, taxes, misery, are dreaded; insignificant fears all these: alas! mine are very different. I have here framed a system upon Earthquakes; and, by calculation, I find that near the center of the globe there is now forming an internal fire that will turn the world upside down. Within six months the earth will burst like a bomb, and all nature.... Yes! all nature vanishes in my eyes; thou alone dost exist for me: extinguish, my dear, extinguish the flame thou has lighted in my bosom. What a moment! Pleasure drowns all my senses: my soul, penetrated with delight, seems to be upon the wing: she beats, she trembles, she flies: O receive her, my dear, she is wholly thine. Ah! I hear my husbands footsteps; let us run.... Courage, brave soldiers! strike home; revenge your country; let the blood flow, and give no quarter. May the Islanders perish and the Babylonians live!... I do aver, for my part that of all the nations there is not one so gay as the Babylonians. They always take things on the most smiling side. One day of prosperity makes them forget a whole year of adversity. Even at their own misery, they all sing; and an epigram pays them for their losses caused by the follies of the Great.... O how little are our great ones! and how foolish are our wise ones! I cannot help thinking man an imperfect creature. I plainly see natures efforts to make him reasonable; but I see too these efforts are fruitless. Materials are wanting. There are but two ages: the age of weakness in which we are born and pass two thirds of life; and the age of infancy in which we grow old and die. I have indeed heard talk of an age of reason; but I do not see it come. I conclude therefore, and I say.... Yes! madam! of transparent cotton. The discovery was very lately made in Terra Australis: so no more colds and defluxions. Transparent handkerchiefs, gloves, and stockings, will defend from the weather, and at the same time give us a sight of that admirable bosom, those charming arms, that divine leg.... Doubts every where, certainty no where. How tired am I to hear, to read, to reflect, and to know nothing precisely. Who will tell me only what is.... This, sir, is the countryman who leaving his plough, is come to talk with you about the affair of those poor orphans which is not ended. That is true, but what would you have? We are so overwhelmed! No matter, it shall be decided.... Ah! good sir, I am glad to see you; I owe you a compliment: the last wig I had of you makes me look ten years older. Surely the gentleman did not think, I had so magisterial a face! Do you know, my dear sir, that it is enough to make me look ridiculous, and you to forfeit your reputation.... Grant, O Lord, three weeks of a westerly wind that my ship may sail.... O Lord, three weeks of an easterly wind that my ship may arrive.... Give me, O God, give me children.... O God! send a malignant fever upon my ungracious son.... O Lord! grant me a husband.... O God! rid me of mine.... Perhaps all this HodgePodge will not be relished by most of my readers. I should be sorry for it. To what end then do mortals hold such odd, such silly and such contradictory discourses? CHAP. XI. THE MIRROUR. As I was amusing myself with these broken speeches, the Prefect of Giphantia presented me with a Mirrour. Thou canst only (says he) guess at things: but with thy rod and that glass, thou art going to hear and see both at once; nothing will escape thee; thou wilt be as present to whatever passes. From space to space (continued the Prefect) there are in the atmosphere portions of air which the spirits have so ranged, that they receive the rays reflected from the different parts of the earth, and remit them to this Mirrour: so that by inclining the glass different ways, the several parts of the earths surface will be visible on it. They will all appear one after the other, if the Mirrour is placed successively in all possible aspects. It is in thy power to view the habitations of every mortal. I hastily took up the wonderful glass. In less than a quarter of an hour I surveyed the whole earth. I perceived many void spaces, even in the most populous countries! and yet I saw men crowding, jostling and destroying one another, as if they had wanted room. I looked about a goodwhile for happiness, and found it no where; not even in the most flourishing kingdoms. I saw only some signs of it in the villages, which by their remoteness were screened from the contagion of the cities. I beheld in one view the vast countries which nature meant to separate by still vaster oceans; and I saw men cover the sea with ships, and by that means join even these distant countries. This is plainly acting (said I) against natures intentions: such proceedings cannot be crowned with success. Accordingly, Europe does not appear more happy since her junction with America: and I do not know whether she has not more reason to lament it. I saw prejudices vary with the climates, and, every where, do much good and much harm. I beheld wise nations rejoice at the birth of their children, and deplore the death of their relations and friends: I beheld others more wise stand round the newborn babe, and weep bitterly at the thoughts of the storms he was to undergo in the course of his life; they reserved their rejoicings for funerals, and congratulated the deceased upon their being delivered from the miseries of this world. I saw the earth covered with monuments of all kinds, which human weakness erects to the ambition of heroes. In the very temples, the brass and the marble, which contain the remains of the dead, present images of war, and breathe slaughter: the very statues of those friends of mankind, of those pacific sovereigns, whom the calamities of the times involve in short wars, are adorned with warlike instruments and nations in chains, as if Laurels died in blood were only worthy to crown Kings. I saw the most respectable of human propensities carry men to the strangest excesses. Some were addressing their prayers to the Sun, others were imploring the aid of the Moon, and others prostrating themselves before Mountains; one was trembling at the aspect of thundering Jove, another was bending the knee to an Ape. The Ox, the Dog, the Cat, had their altars. Incense was burning even to Vegetables; Grain, Beans, and Onions had their worship and votaries. I saw the race of mankind divide themselves into as many Parties as Religions; these Parties I saw divest themselves of all humanity and cloath themselves with Fanaticism, and these Fanatics worrying one another like wild beasts. I saw men who adored the same God, who sacrificed upon the same altar, who preached to the people the doctrine of peace and love, I saw these very men fall out about unintelligible questions, and mutually hate, persecute, and destroy one another. O God! what will become of man, if thy goodness doth not exceed their weakness and folly? In a word, I saw the several nations, diversified in a thousand respects, all agree in their not being one better than another. All men are bad, the Ultramontane by system, the Iberian by pride, the Batavian by interest, the German by roughness, the Islander by humour, the Babylonian by caprice, and All by a general corruption of heart. Illustration CHAP. XII. THE TRIAL. After this general survey of the whole earth, I had a mind to view Babylon in particular. Having turned my glass to the north, and inclining it gently to the 20th meridian, I tried to find out that great city. Among the places that passed in succession under my eyes, there was one that fixed my attention. I saw a countryhouse, neither small nor great, neither too much adorned nor too naked. All about it was more embellished by nature than by art. It overlooked gardens, groves, and some ponds which bounded a hill on the east. A country feast was at this time celebrating, to which all the neighbouring inhabitants were come. Some, stretched on the green turf, were drinking large draughts, and entertaining one another with their former amours; and several were performing dances, which the old men did not think so fine as those of time past. Seest thou (says the Prefect to me) in the balcony, that young lady who with a smiling air is viewing the sight? She was married some days ago, and it is on her account that this feast is made. Her name is Sophia: she has beauty as you see, fortune, wit, and what is worth more than all the rest, a stock of good sense. She had five Lovers at one time: none made a deep impression in her heart, none were displeasing to her; she could not tell to which to give the preference. One day she said to them, I am young; and it is not my intention to enter yet into the bands of matrimony, which is always done too soon. If my hand is so valuable as by your eager addresses you seem to think, exert your endeavours to deserve it. But, I declare to you that I shall not make any choice these several years. Of Sophias five Lovers, the first was much inclined to extravagance. Women (says he) are taken with the outside: let us spend freely and spare nothing. The second had a fund of economy which bordered upon avarice. Sophia (says he) who has a solid judgment, must think him best that shows himself capable of amassing riches: let us turn to commerce. The third was proud and haughty. Surely (says he) Sophia, who has noble thoughts, will be touched with the lustre of glory: let us take to arms. The fourth was a studious man. Sophia (says he) who has so much sense, will incline to where the most is to be found. Let us continue to cultivate our mind; and strive to distinguish ourselves among the learned. The fifth was an indolent man, who gave himself little concern about worldly affairs: he was at a loss what course to take. Each pursued his plan, and pursued it with that ardor which love alone is capable of inspiring. The prodigal expended part of his estate in cloaths, in equipages, in domesticks; he built a fine house, furnished it nobly, kept open table, gave balls and entertainments of all kinds: nothing was talked of but his generosity and magnificence. The merchant set all the springs of commerce in motion, traded to all parts of the world and became one of the richest men of his country. The military man sought occasions; and soon signalized himself. The studious man redoubled his efforts, made discoveries, and became famous. Mean while, the indolent lover made his reflections; and, believing if he remained unactive he should be excluded, he strove to conquer his indolence. The estate, he had from his ancestors, seemed to him very sufficient, and he did not care to meddle with commerce; the hurry of war was quite opposite to his temper, and he had no mind to take to arms; he had never read but for his amusement, the sciences did not seem to him worth the pains to come at them; he had no ambition to become learned. What then is to be done? Let us wait, (says he) time will show. So he remained at his countryhouse, pruning his trees, reading Horace, and now and then going to see the only object that disturbed his tranquillity. Ever resolving to take some course, the time slipt away, and he took none. The fatal hour approaches (said he sometimes to Sophia) you are going to make your choice, and most assuredly it will not be in my favour. Yet a few days, and I am undone. This peaceful retreat, those delightful fields you will not grace, you will not enliven, with your presence. Those serene days that I reckoned to pass with you in the purest of pleasures were only flattering dreams with which love charmed my senses. O Sophia! all that stirs the passions and troubles the repose of men has no power over me; my desires are all centered in you; and I am going to lose you for ever! You are too reasonable, replied Sophia, to take it ill that I should chuse where I think I shall be happy. At last, the time was expired, and not without many reflections, Sophia resolved to make her choice. She said to the prodigal: if I have been the aim of your expences, I am sorry for it: but what you have done for my sake, you would have done, had I been out of the question. You have lavished away one part of your estate to obtain a wife; you would spend the other to avoid the trouble of management. I advise you never to think of it. She told the merchant, soldier and scholar, I am sensible, you have shown a great regard for me: but I think too you have shown no less, you for riches, you for glory, and you for learning. In trying to fix my inclination, each has followed his own; each would do as much for himself as for me. Should I chuse one of you, his views would still rest upon other objects; one would be busied with increasing his fortune, the other with his promotion in the army, and the third with his progress in the sciences. I cannot therefore satisfy any one of you: and my desire is to ingross the heart of the man who ingrosses mine. The same day, she saw the solitary gentleman. You have long waited for it (said she to him) and I am at last going to declare my mind. You know what your rivals have done to obtain my consent: see what they were and what they are. For your part, such as you was, such you remain. I think, I see the reason. Indifferent to all other things, you have but one passion, and I am its object. I alone can render you happy. Well then! my happiness shall be in creating yours. I will share the delights of your solitude, and will endeavour to increase them. Illustration CHAP. XIII. THE TALENTS. I returned to my first object, and, after a long search, I perceived on the mirrour a spot of land which seemed wrapped in a cloud. There issued from thence a confused noise like the murmurs of an ebbing tide. The sun quickly dispersed the vapours, and I saw Babylon. I saw there spectacles wherein the calamities of past times are lamented, in order to forget the calamities of the present; I saw Academies where they should examine and discuss, but where they dispute and quarrel; Temples that are built against the restoration of religion; Orators, who foretell to the seduced people the most terrible disasters, and Hearers who measure the expressions and criticize the style; a Palace wherein are placed Magistrates for the security of your property, and where you are conducted by Guides who fleece you. I cast my eyes on the publick walks and gardens, ever open to idleness, coquetry and recreation. I beheld sitting alone on the grass a person who, with a smile, was penning down his ideas. I fixed the paper, and read what follows: One day Jupiter proclaimed through the whole earth, that he had resolved to distribute different talents to the different nations; that on such a day the distribution would be made at Olympus; and that the geniuses of the several nations should repair thither. The Genius of Babylon stayed not till the day appointed, but came the first of all to Jupiters palace. He made his appearance with that air of confidence which is natural to him; he uttered I know not how many very handsome and wellturned compliments, and made presents to all the celestial court with a grace peculiar to him. He gave the Father of the gods a quintal of wildfire of a late invention, that his thunder may be more effectual and people begin to have faith: to Apollo a Babylonian grammar, that he may reform the oddities of the language: to Minerva a collection of Romances, that she may correct their licentiousness and teach the Romancers to write decently: to Venus two small votive pictures, to thank her for that the last year there were at Babylon but two hundred thousand inhabitants who bore the long and painful marks of her favours. He made his court to the Gods, wheedled the Goddesses, said and did so many handsome and pleasant things, that nothing was talked of at Jupiters court but the agreeableness of the Genius of Babylon. Mean while, the day appointed was come: and Jupiter, having advised with his council, made the distribution of the different talents to the Geniuses of the several nations. To this he assigned the gift of Philosophy: to that, the gift of Legislation; and to another the gift of Eloquence. He said to one, Be Thou the most ingenious; to another, Be Thou the most learned, and Thou, the most frugal; and Thou, the most warlike; and Thou, the most politick: and Be Thou (said he, speaking to the Genius of Babylon) whatever thou chusest to be. Delighted with his success, and returning home, the Genius of Babylon is at all. He framed I know not how many schemes, and executed none. He made most excellent laws, and afterwards embroiled them with numberless explanations and comments. He would likewise turn Theologist, and engaged in disputes which proved fatal to him. He traded, gained much, enlarged his expences, and became richer and less easy. Orator, Poet, Merchant, Philosopher, he was every thing; and in many things he attained to perfection, but never could keep his ground. Illustration CHAP. XIV. THE TASTE OF THE AGE. Two men of letters were walking at a little distance. Will you not own (said one of them) that, two centuries ago, our learning was in its infancy; and hardly showed to what degree it might arrive. In the last century, it took root and rose so high that nothing was seen above it. The greatest masters among the Greeks and Latins were taken for patterns: they were equalled, if not surpassed. Success inspires confidence; and too much confidence breeds neglect. To have the eye always on the Antients grew distasteful. They have had their merit (said the Babylonians) and we have ours: who can say we do not equal them? They therefore set up for themselves: and the taste, not the more general and of all the nations, but the taste peculiar to them characterized their works. See almost all our poems, our histories, our speeches, our books, all is after the Babylonian mode; much of art, little of nature; a vast superficies, no depth; all is florid, light, lively, sparkling; all is pretty, nothing is fine. Methinks I foresee the judgment of posterity: they will consider the works of the seventeenth century as the greatest efforts of the nation towards the excellent; and the works of the eighteenth, as pictures wherein the Babylonians have taken pleasure to paint themselves. If our writers are capable to go back and resume their great patterns, it is known what they can do; they are sure to please all the world, and for ever: but, if they continue to stand on their own bottom, their works will be only trinkets of fancy, on which the present taste stamps a value, and which another taste will soon bury in oblivion. Illustration CHAP. XV. THE FEMALE REASONER. I saw two women apart, one of which was talking: she looked round her every moment with that air of uneasiness which expresses a confidence the most mysterious. I lent my ear; and with great difficulty I heard what follows: I am obliged to thee, my dear Countess, for the idea thou hast conceived of my prudence. Hearken; I will hide nothing from thee; thou shalt see how far I may be relied on. We women are forced to guess things, they will never be told us plainly: but, with a little attention, it is easy for us to see how matters are. For my part, I have reflected on the maxims of the wise men of our days, and from thence have drawn these conclusions. It is only the mob that trouble themselves now about a future state; the rewards and punishments of another world are words without a meaning; which have long been discarded by people of fashion. Beasts and men (of beasts the chief) are made to be guided by the senses; they should be actuated solely by the passions. Let each attentively listen to what is inspired into him by nature, and let him follow her inspirations; that is the way to happiness. On the other hand, society cannot subsist without laws, and laws cannot be accommodated to the passions of every citizen. They therefore who have placed their happiness in what is forbidden by law, cannot behave too circumspectly. They must always walk in the shade; mystery should follow their steps, and cast a veil on all their proceedings: in a word, they may do what they will, provided they appear to do what they ought. These, my dear Countess, are the maxims I have gathered from the Philosophy of the time. I will not mention their influence on my conduct. Perhaps I really am what I appear to be: but I should be quite otherwise, that I might appear always such. O Babylon! (said I to myself) the leven has fermented the whole mass. Thou appearest very corrupt; but thou art still more corrupt than thou appearest. CHAP. XVI. THE CROCODILES. During the course of my travels, I saw in Persia, on the plains watered by the Tedjen, a dispute arise which divided the country and bred a surprising animosity in the people. I was curious to see how that matter stood: I placed the mirrour in the proper position, and then put the end of the rod upon the globe, so as I could see and hear what was doing. The plain was covered with two numerous armies; which were just going to join battle. The ground of the quarrel was this: A pious and learned Musulman, who used to read the Alcoran with the zeal of an archangel and the penetration of a seraphim, took it in his head one day to ask whether the dove, that instructed Mahomet, spoke Hebrew or Arabic. Some said one thing, some another; and two parties were formed. They disputed, they wrote at large pro and con, and could not agree. To the warmth of the contest were added bitterness, malignity its inseparable companion, and policy, which endeavours to make an advantage of every thing. One party persecuted the other, or was persecuted, according as they were or were not uppermost. They began with the forfeiture of estates and banishments; and ended in an open war. The sectaries had caballed so well, that the people rose in arms against one another. The two armies were just going to ingage, when a venerable old man advanced, and convening the heads, made the following speech: Hearken, O ye people of Chorasan. There was in Egypt a famous city called Ombi; it was near another great city named Tentyris: both were situated on the fertile banks of the Nile2. In that part, the river bred a great number of Crocodiles; and these voracious animals so fiercely attacked these two cities, that the inhabitants were going to remove. The governours of Tentyris were apprehensive that their authority would vanish, and the citizens would come to be dispersed. They assembled therefore the Tentyrites and said: You suffer the destructive animals to increase and multiply in peace. Hear what we have to declare to you in the name of the Nile your fosterfather and your God. Woe be unto you, if you remain any longer in this state of indolence! Arm without delay, and wage war against the monsters that devour your wives and children. It was the injunction of the Nile, and not to be disputed. The Tentyrites took up arms, but it was with great disadvantage, and never was advice more imprudent. The Crocodiles, invulnerable in almost all the parts of their bodies, killed many more men than the men killed monsters. The governours of Ombi used a different artifice to keep the Ombites from leaving their city. Hearken, (said they to them) the God Nile speaks to you by our mouth: I create plenty among the Ombites, I inrich their lands, I fatten their flocks; my waters flow and they grow rich. The Crocodile is my servant, and I permit him now and then to feed upon some of them; this is the only tribute I require for all my benefits: and, instead of rejoicing at having it in their power by a single act to render themselves agreeable to me, they destroy one another, if my servant seizes a few children. Let them cease to complain, or I will cease to feed them; I will withhold my waters and all shall perish. The moment the Ombites knew the Crocodile to be the favourite of the Nile, they erected altars to him; and, far from complaining when he was pleased to feed on their children, they gloried in it. Is there a woman more happy than I? (said an Ombite) I enjoy a competent fortune, have a loving husband, and three of my children have been eaten by the servant of our God Nile. In the mean time, the favourite of the Nile was killed by the Tentyrites and worshipped by the Ombites. Discord and animosity inflamed them against one another; they went to war, which ended in the destruction of both. Thus perished two cities, dupes of their sincerity, devoured by the Crocodile, and butchered by each other. Let this example open your eyes, O ye unfortunate inhabitants of this happy climate. Cease to be victims of an irregular zeal: worship God, keep silence, and live in peace. Scarce had the old man done speaking, when a general murmur and menacing looks showed him how little he had moved the assembly, so he withdrew with a sigh. Immediately the battle was joined; and I turned away my eyes that I might not behold these mad people destroy one another. I have a great deal more to show you, (says the Prefect) let us lay down the mirrour and rod, and walk on. Illustration CHAP. XVII. THE STORM. Some paces from the noisy globe, the earth is hollowed, and there appears a descent of forty or fifty steps of turf; at the foot of which there is a beaten subterraneous path. We went in; and my guide, after leading me through several dark turnings, brought me at last to the light again. He conducted me into a hall of a middling size, and not much adorned, where I was struck with a sight that raised my astonishment. I saw, out of a window, a sea which seemed to me to be about a quarter of a mile distant. The air, full of clouds, transmitted only that pale light which forebodes a storm: the raging sea ran mountains high, and the shore was whitened with the foam of the billows which broke on the beach. By what miracle (said I to myself) has the air, serene a moment ago, been so suddenly obscured? By what miracle do I see the ocean in the center of Africa? Upon saying these words, I hastily ran to convince my eyes of so improbable a thing. But in trying to put my head out of the window, I knocked it against something that felt like a wall. Stunned with the blow, and still more with so many mysteries, I drew back a few paces. Thy hurry (said the Prefect) occasions thy mistake. That window, that vast horizon, those thick clouds, that raging sea, are all but a picture. From one astonishment I fell into another: I drew near with fresh haste; my eyes were still deceived, and my hand could hardly convince me that a picture should have caused such an illusion. The elementary spirits (continued the Prefect) are not so able painters as naturalists; thou shalt judge by their way of working. Thou knowest that the rays of light, reflected from different bodies, make a picture and paint the bodies upon all polished surfaces, on the retina of the eye, for instance, on water, on glass. The elementary spirits have studied to fix these transient images: they have composed a most subtile matter, very viscous, and proper to harden and dry, by the help of which a picture is made in the twinkle of an eye. They do over with this matter a piece of canvas, and hold it before the objects they have a mind to paint. The first effect of the canvas is that of a mirrour; there are seen upon it all the bodies far and near, whose image the light can transmit. But what the glass cannot do, the canvas, by means of the viscous matter, retains the images. The mirrour shows the objects exactly, but keeps none; our canvases show them with the same exactness, and retains them all. This impression of the images is made the first instant they are received on the canvas, which is immediately carried away into some dark place; an hour after, the subtile matter dries, and you have a picture so much the more valuable, as it cannot be imitated by art nor damaged by time. We take, in their purest source, in the luminous bodies, the colours which painters extract from different materials, and which time never fails to alter. The justness of the design, the truth of the expression, the gradation of the shades, the stronger or weaker strokes, the rules of perspective, all these we leave to nature, who, with a sure and nevererring hand, draws upon our canvases images which deceive the eye and make reason to doubt, whether, what are called real objects, are not phantoms which impose upon the sight, the hearing, the feeling, and all the senses at once. The Prefect then entered into some physical discussions, first, on the nature of the glutinous substance which intercepted and retained the rays; secondly, upon the difficulties of preparing and using it; thirdly, upon the struggle between the rays of light and the dried substance; three problems, which I propose to the naturalists of our days, and leave to their sagacity. Mean while, I could not take off my eyes from the picture. A sensible spectator, who from the shore beholds a tempestuous sea, feels not more lively impressions: such images are equivalent to the things themselves. The Prefect interrupted my extasy. I keep you too long (says he) upon this storm, by which the elementary spirits designed to represent allegorically the troublesome state of this world, and mankinds stormy passage through the same: turn thy eyes, and behold what will feed thy curiosity and increase thy admiration. CHAP. XVIII. THE GALLERY OR THE FORTUNE OF MANKIND. Scarce had the Prefect said these words; when a foldingdoor opened on our right, and let us into an immense Gallery, where my wonder was turned into amazement. On each side, above two hundred windows let in the light to such a degree, that the eye could hardly bear its splendor. The spaces between them were painted with that art, I have just been describing. Out of each window, was seen some part of the territory of the elementary spirits. In each picture, appeared woods, fields, seas, nations, armies, whole regions; and all these objects were painted with such truth, that I was often forced to recollect myself, that I might not fall again into illusion. I could not tell, every moment, whether what I was viewing out of a window was not a painting, or what I was looking at in a picture was not a reality. Survey with thy eyes (said the Prefect) survey the most remarkable events that have shaken the earth and decided the fate of men. Alass! what remains of all these powerful springs, of all these great exploits? the most real signs of them are the traces they have left upon our canvases in forming these pictures3. The most antient actions, whose lustre has preserved their memory, are the actions of violence. Nimrod, the mighty hunter, after having worried the wild beasts, attacks his fellowcreatures. See in the first picture that gigantic man, the first of those heroes so renowned; see in his looks pride, ambition, an ardent desire of rule. He framed the first scheme of a kingdom, and uniting men under the pretence of binding them together, he enslaved them. Belus, Ninus, Semiramis ascend the throne, which they strengthen by fresh acts of violence! and of above thirty kings who successively reigned, only one closed the wounds of mankind, let Asia take breath, and governed like a philosopher: his name is almost forgot. History, which glows at the sight of renowned and tragical events, languishes over peaceable reigns: and scarce mentions such sovereigns. Sardanapalus ends this series of kings. Enemy to noise, disorder and war, he mispends his time, shuts himself up in his palace, and sinks into effeminacy. The women, thou seest about him, neither think nor exist but for him. His looks give them life, and he receives life from theirs. What do I say? He seeks himself with astonishment and finds himself not; a surfeit of pleasures destroys his taste: he does not live, but languish. In the mean time, two of his generals4 loathing peace, form schemes of conquests, and feed, themselves with bloody projects. They deem themselves alone worthy to reign, because they alone breathe war in the midst of the publick tranquillity. See where they attack and dethrone their effeminate monarch: and forcing him to destroy himself, they seize and share his dominions. Thus the Assyrian empire was dismembered, after having kept Asia in continual alarms above twelve hundred years. Kings succeeded both at Nineveh and at Babylon; and all became famous for wars and ravages5. One of them laid Egypt waste, plundered Palestine, burnt Jerusalem, put out the eyes of a king whose children he had murdered, drove from their country whole nations and put them in chains; and, after such expeditions, he ordered altars to be erected to him, and worship to be paid him as to a beneficent God. See at the foot of his image, incense burning and nations lying prostrate; and admire how far the pride and abjection of mortals extend6. The next picture represents the infancy of Cyrus, and the particular moment wherein he gave signs of that intolerable haughtiness, considered by the historians as the first sallies of a greatness of soul, which to display itself wants only great occasions. Cyrus, both by right of birth and right of conquest, united Assyria and Media to Persia, and was the founder of the largest empire that ever existed. His successors still think their bounds too narrow: they send into Greece, which was then signalized in Europe, armies infinitely numerous, the which are destroyed: and the spirit of conquest had on that occasion the fate which unhappily it has not always. The Greeks, freed from these powerful enemies, turn their arms against one another: they are animated by jealousy, inflamed by the warm and dangerous eloquence of their orators, and torn by civil wars. Persia falls into the same convulsions. And when perhaps every thing was tending to peace, Alexander appears, and all are embroiled worse than ever. This picture shows him in that tender age wherein he lamented his fathers conquests, and saw with grief human blood shed by wounds, he had not made. Scarce was he on the throne when he carried desolation into Greece, Persia and India. The world did not suffice for his murdering progress, and his heart was still unsatisfied. That other picture represents his death. That destructive thunderbolt is at last extinguished, Alexander expires, and casting his dying eyes on the grand monarchy he is going to leave, nothing seems to comfort him but the prospect of the bloody tragedies of which his death is to be the signal. Of all Alexanders dominions, those to whom they belonged of right, had the least share. The empire was divided among his generals7. War was soon kindled amongst them, continued among their descendants, and ruined all the countries of which they had the rule. Among so many warlike kings, Ptolemy Philadelphus appeared like a lily raised by chance in a field of thorns. See in that immense library, the monarch surrounded with old sages, who are giving him an account of the numberless volumes which are before his eyes. He was too great a lover of mankind to disturb their tranquillity; and held them in such estimation, that he collected from all countries the productions of their wit8. These kinds of riches seemed to him alone worthy his care. He saw them with the same eye that other kings behold those metals which they search for in the bowels of the earth, or which they fetch from the extremities of the world through rivulets of blood. Whilst discord rages amongst Alexanders successors and their descendants; already appeared in the center of Italy the first sparks of the flame that was to spread over the universe and consume all nations. Like those bodies of a vast weight, which, not being in their just position, swing themselves to and fro for some moments, and then fix themselves immoveably; Rome, subject successively to kings, consuls, decemvirs, military tribunes, settles a government and begins the conquest of the world. This ambitious nation, direct at first their forces against their neighbours. In vain did the several Italian states struggle for five hundred years against the fate of Rome: one while in subjection, another while in rebellion: now conquerors, now conquered, they were all in the end forced to submit to the yoke. Italy subdued and calmed, that is, reduced to the state of those robust bodies, which by being exhausted fall into a consumption and weakness, the Romans cross the seas, and go into Africa in search of fresh enemies and other spoils. Carthage as ambitious, perhaps as powerful, but more unfortunate than her rival, after a long and violent contest, is overcome and destroyed. Corinth and Numantia share the same fate. About this time, Viriatus raised himself in the same manner as the Romans. In this picture, he is a huntsman; in that, a robber; in the third, a general of an army; and in the fourth, he mounts the throne of Lusitania. But he was only a victim crowned by fortune to be sacrificed to the ambition of the Romans9. Asia is soon opened to these insatiable conquerors. The empire daily enlarges, and that enormous power overruns all the known world. The first passion of the Romans was glory. During seven centuries, patriotism, which policy cherished with so great success, directed the love of glory in favour of the republic; and the Romans signalized themselves no less by their attachment to their country, than by their warlike exploits. This space was filled with a long train of heroes, and those that followed, despairing to become famous in the same manner, sought to distinguish themselves by other methods. Rome was mistress of the world; it appeared glorious to become master of Rome. Sylla, Marius, and some others, showed that such a project was not impracticable: Csar accomplished it. That boasted conqueror, who was reproached with so many things, effaced them all by his virtue: by his military virtue which destroyed above a million of men, oppressed his fellowcitizens, and enslaved his country. In vain did the republic exert her utmost endeavours to save her expiring liberty; she was exhausted and stretched her hands to Augustus, who, from a bad citizen, became the best of masters. Raised to the empire, he put an end to war, and soon gave mankind a peace the most universal, they had ever enjoyed. The elementary spirits have given an idea of the pleasure of this general tranquillity, by the agreeable prospect of the landskips which are here represented. This peace.... Pray (says I interrupting the Prefect) suspend a moment the rapid recital of so many revolutions; give me leave to examine this picture, and a little time to calm the perturbation of my mind. How I love to see that beautiful sky; those plains that lose themselves at a distance; those pastures filled with flocks; those fields covered with corn? The breath of war blows far from those climates the vertiginous spirit of heroism. This is indeed the seat of peace and tranquillity. My imagination carries me to those delightful vallies: I behold and contemplate nature, whose labours nothing interrupts, producing on every side life and pleasure. My thoughts are composed and my spirits sedate amidst the tranquillity that reigns in those places: my blood, grown cool, flows in my veins with the same gentle motion as the rivulets that water those green turfs; and the passions now have on my mind only the effect of the zephyr, which seems to play gently among the branches of leafy trees. CHAP. XIX. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GALLERY. The Prefect soon resumed the thread of his discourse. The quickness, wherewith he ran over the Gallery, hardly gave me time to view the several pictures he was explaining. I had not seen him before nor did I afterwards see him speak with so much action. His face was inflamed, his eyes darted fire, and his words were too slow for his eagerness. The language, the manners, the laws of the Romans (said he) were spread over the world. The nations, conquered and settled, became members of the empire; and all the known world made but one family. By what fatality was Augustuss peace, which seemed so unalterable, of so short a duration? Mankind only breathed, and were soon inflicted with new wounds. When Rome had no more kingdoms to subdue, she had rebels to reduce. Several nations, thinking it a great happiness or a great glory to be parted from the body of the empire, rebelled in Europe, in Asia, in Africa: all were repressed. Thus most of the nations, formerly attacked and defeated, now the aggressors and reduced, continued to be hurled from one misfortune to another; and the following pictures, those which represent the more celebrated times of the first Emperors, will still go on to present to thee spectacles of blood. The three reigns of Titus, Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius, were three fine Days in a severe Winter. Those times, nevertheless, were times of peace, in comparison of those that had gone before and those that came after. The empire was like a body with a good constitution, but which however is attacked with some disorders, and shews that it is not far from its decline. Whilst the Romans, at first to extend, then to support and sometimes to inrich themselves, kept the world in awe, pulled down what attempted to rise, and penetrated wherever they were allured by rich spoils; towards the North, in those frozen climates where nature seems to reach only to expire, there arose and increased, in the bosom of peace and silence, nations who were one day to humble the pride of the masters of the world. Three centuries had not yet passed since Augustuss peace, when, in the reign of Valerianus, the deceitful hope of a more commodious and happy life armed these unpolished people. See where they are coming out of their huts, tumultuously gathering together, marching in disorder, and showing the way to the hideous multitudes who followed one another from age to age. These foreign enemies, coming when the empire was rent with internal rebellions, shook the Colossus. It withstood however, for some time, the weight which pulled it down, and one while ready to fall, and another while erect, it seemed sometimes to be going to stand firm again. Among the emperors who signalized themselves against the Barbarians, Probus contributed the most to support the Majesty of the Roman name. Valiant, but still more humane, he abhorred war and continually waged it. Dost thou observe, in the picture before thee, that bald old man, his air of candor, his respectable countenance, the plainness of every thing about him? It is Probus represented in the moment when, beholding Romes enemies humbled, full of the idea of that general peace he always desired, he said: yet a few days and the empire will have no farther occasion for soldiers. Words which rendered him worthy of the veneration of the whole earth, but which caused him to be murdered. Time passed, the efforts of the Barbarians redoubled, and blood continued to be shed. Mean while, the enemies of Rome grew warlike, and her defenders degenerated. Of this the chief causes were pride, which increasing wants, forces the citizen to refer every thing to his private interest; the folly of most of the emperors, which bred in the people a numbness which a few years confirm, and which whole ages cannot remove; perhaps too a weariness of the spirits; for that ambition, that haughtiness, or, if you please, that Roman grandeur, was in the course of things an excessive effort, which, like an epidemical distemper come to its height, must necessarily abate by degrees. However this may be, a century and half after their first invasions, the Barbarians began to make real progresses, and dismember the Western part of the empire. Amidst the troubles that then existed, some kingdoms were established which still remain to this day. Just as Earthquakes, which raising the sea drown whole regions, produce also new Islands amidst the waves. See the Goths, who after traversing sword in hand, part of Asia and all Europe, are settling in Spain: see the Angles, a people of Germany, who are passing into Great Britain, and, under pretence of aiding, are seizing it: see the Franks, other Germans, who are coming to free the Gauls from the Roman yoke and making them to submit to theirs. In these unhappy times, Rome herself shares the same fate which she had made so many cities undergo; she is plundered and sacked at several times10. But the next pictures present to thee, in a point of view still more dreadful, regions laid waste, fields bathed in blood, and cities in ashes. These are the exploits of Attila and his rapid incursions in Macedonia, Mysia, Thrace, Italy, and almost through the whole world which he ravaged. So many desolations, proceeding from several conquerors, would have made so many heroes: coming from a single hand, they form a terrible monster. It is thus that military virtues show themselves in their true colours, and become horrible when they meet in a center11. During Attilas ravages, certain Italians flying from his fury, withdraw to the Adriatic seaside. Behold in this picture the men pale, the women dishevelled, and the children in tears. Some hide themselves among the rocks; others dig themselves subterraneous retreats; some ascend the hills, and, as far as their eyes can reach, look whither the merciless conqueror, whose name alone makes them tremble, is still pursuing them to those desolate places, so little proper for the habitation of men. On every side thou canst see nothing but destruction and horror: very soon however proud Venice is going to rise out of these melancholy ruins. Shortly after, the last blow is given to the Western empire. Tyrannized by its rulers, rent by factions, weakened by continual losses, and pressed by a fatal destiny, it shakes under some emperors, and falls under Augustulus. Rome and Italy, successively a prey to two Barbarians, are afterwards united to the Eastern empire, from which by fresh misfortunes they were soon after detached again. Two centuries passed in cruel vicissitudes, when a new scourge, Mahomet, arose in the East. He was deemed at first but as an impostor worthy of contempt: but he had an understanding capable of the greatest things, and a boldness which carried him to the highest enterprizes. It was known how far he was able to go, when his progress could no longer be opposed. He overran part of the East, and out of the ruins founded the kingdom of the Khalifs. The nations, he subdued by force of arms, he won by seduction; and, more fatal still to mankind than all the heroes whose pernicious actions die with them, he sullied the human species with a stain which probably will never be effaced12. In the West, the misfortunes of the Romans are renewed. The Lombards waste Italy, the Moors settle in Spain, from whence they threaten the French: new swarms of Barbarians are going to invade the finest countries of Europe. At this time, from the bosom of France arises a Prince full of genius, and of that military ardor which, in a calm, would have brought on a storm; but which, finding the tempest formed, like an impetuous wind, blew it away: this was Charlemain. In this picture, he checks the Saracens; in that, he subdues Germany; moreover, he destroys in Italy the power of the Lombards, founds the temporal authority of the Popes, and receives the crown of the Western empire. Charlemains empire soon fell to pieces. The partitions of the princes, and the ambition of some chiefs, detach whole nations from it. Weak or avaricious emperors give or sell liberty to others. The rest is under particular lords: the sovereign scarce keeps the title and shadow of authority. Dost thou observe that battle? seest thou a numerous army defeated by fifteen hundred men? It is the ra of the liberty of the Helvetic body. Members of the empire, but oppressed by tyrants, the Swiss shake off the yoke and form a government, the wisdom of which cannot be too much admired. Their commerce extends but to necessaries: they have soldiers only for their defence, and these too are trained among other nations: a constant peace reigns in the republic. Without covetousness, without jealousy, without ambition, liberty and necessaries content them. They are a people that talk the least of philosophy, and are the most philosophical. Whilst the new Western empire is rent, the Eastern is destroyed. Thou seest coming out of Asia the last swarm of Barbarians which were to fall upon Europe13. They advance: and, like huge masses which acquire more force in proportion to the height they fall from, they crush Constantinople and seize the Eastern empire, which they still possess to this day. Such is the disastrous contexture of the compendious History of mankind: the crowd of particulars is only a crowd of less noted calamities. The total of the nations, especially the European, is like a mass of quicksilver, which the lightest impression puts in motion, which the least shake divides and subdivides, and of which chance unites again the parts in a thousand different manners. Who will find the means to fix them? THE END OF THE FIRST PART. GIPHANTIA: PART II. Illustration LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCCLX. TABLE OF THE CHAPTERS. PART II. Page CHAP. I. THE REPAST 201 CHAP. II. THE KERNELS 212 CHAP. III. ANTIENT LOVE 215 CHAP. IV. THE GRAFTS 221 CHAP. V. VOLUPTAS 228 CHAP. VI. PERPETUAL YOUTH 233 CHAP. VII. THE ITCHINGS 239 CHAP. VIII. THE COMPENSATIONS 249 CHAP. IX. NIL ADMIRARI 253 CHAP. X. THE FANTASTICAL TREE 259 CHAP. XI. THE PREDICTIONS 265 CHAP. XII. THE SYSTEM 274 CHAP. XIII. EPISTLE TO THE EUROPEANS 292 CHAP. XIV. THE MAXIMS 302 CHAP. XV. THE THERMOMETERS 306 CHAP. XVI. THE LENTILS 312 CHAP. XVII. THE SUBTERRANEOUS ROAD 318 Illustration GIPHANTIA. PART THE SECOND. CHAP. I. THE REPAST. My zeal has carried me farther than I should have imagined, added the Prefect; it is time to think of what concerns thee. The air of Giphantia is lively and full of active corpuscles; it keeps up the spirits; and, in spite of the fatigues, thou hast endured in the desart, it does not suffer thee to have the least sense of weariness, However, thou hast need of a more solid food. I have ordered thee a Repast, and I will regale thee after the manner of the elementary spirits. We went out of the gallery; and the Prefect conducted me to a grotto, of which the architecture was so strange, that I dare not venture to describe it. The whole furniture was a marble table and a canechair, on which he bid me sit down. Whatever I saw at Giphantia was extraordinary, the Repast to which I was invited was not less so. Thirty saltsellers filled with salts of different colours, were placed on the table in a circle round a fruit, much like our melons. There was also a glass decanter full of water, round which other saltsellers formed another circle. These preparations were not very tempting; I never had less appetite. However, not to affront a host, to whom I was so much obliged, I tasted the fruit that he offered me. The purest chymical earth purged of all foreign matter, would have more taste. I forced myself to swallow a few bits. I drank a glass of water: And I told the Prefect, that my strength was more than sufficiently recruited, and if he pleased, we would continue to visit the rarities of Giphantia. Thou hast had (said he) the complaisance to taste the fruit and the liquor, thou wilt farther oblige me to season them both. The salts which stand round them have, perhaps, more virtue than thou art aware of. I invite thee to try. Upon these words, I viewed the saltsellers more attentively, I saw that each had a label; and I read upon those that surrounded the insipid fruit, salt of woodcock, salt of quail, salt of wildduck, salt of trout, c. Upon the others, I read, concrete juice of Rhenish, of Champagne, of Burgundy, of Usquebaugh, of oil of Venus, of Citron, c. Having taken a small slice of the fruit, I spread upon it a grain of one of those salts; and putting it to my mouth I took it for the wing of an ortolan. I looked upon the saltseller from whence I had the salt, and saw the word ortolan on the label. Astonished at this phnomenon, I spread upon another slice salt of turbot, and I thought I was eating one of the finest turbots the channel ever produced. I tried the same experiment upon the water; according to the salt I dissolved in it, I drank wine of Beaune, of Nuis, of Chambertin, c. My lord, (said I to the Prefect) you have shewn me the columns, the globe, the mirrour, the pictures; I have admired the mechanism of these masterpieces, and the wonderful skill of the elementary spirits; but now, my admiration is turned to desire. Is a mortal allowed to enter into the physical mysteries of the spirits? May I learn from you, this invaluable secret of your saline powders. Nowadays more than ever, (added I) men (especially the Babylonians) seek with eagerness whatever can please the senses; and one of the things which raises the greatest emulation, is to have a table covered with exquisite dainties. Their forefathers did not look upon a good cook as a person divine. The most simple preparations sufficed for their food: they thought no wines excelled those of their own country; and sometimes those good men made a little too free with them. The modern Babylonians disgusted at this simplicity, and hating hard drinking, have taken a different method. They are become sober, but of a sensual and ambitious sobriety, which, by unheard of extracts and mixtures, perpetually creates new tastes. They search in the smallest fibres of the animals for the purest substance, and, under the name of essences, they inclose in a little phial the produce of what would suffice for the nourishment of the most numerous families. The most exquisite wines cannot satisfy their palate; they esteem nothing but what is owing to a violence done to the order of natures productions. They extract the most active spirit of wine, and thereto add all the spices of India: And, with such liquors, seeds of fire, collected from all the countries of the world, flow in their veins. You see (continued I) that with the secret of your savoury crystalizations, I should be able to satisfy the nicest palates, and please the most curious lovers of variety. But what is much more important, these saline extracts, which are not prepared by the pernicious arts of the distiller and cook, these extracts, I say, would not spoil the stomach in pleasing the taste; high health would revive among us; the primitive constitutions would be restored by degrees; and mankind would resume a new youthful vigour; in all respects, a man might be a glutton without danger, and, that is saying a great deal of a vice, which is become incorrigible. I was not refused: In less than half an hour, the Prefect taught me the whole art; I actually resolve the savours, with the same ease that Newton did the colours. From all the fruits that go to decay, from all the plants of no use, from even the herbs of the field, in a word, from all bodies whatever, I extract all their savoury parts; I analyze these parts; I reduce them to their primitive particles; and then uniting them again in all imaginable proportions, I form saline powders, which give such a taste as is desired. I can inclose in a small snuffbox, wherewith to make in an instant a complete entertainment, courses, ragouts, fricassees, deserts, coffee, tea, with all kinds of wine and other liquors. From a single bit, though ever so insipid, I produce at pleasure the wing of a partridge, the thigh of a woodcock, the tongue of a carp, c. From a decanter of water, I draw Tomar, Ai, Muscadine, Malmsey, Chian wine, Lacryma Christi, and a thousand others. My secret should have been publick before now; but all the advantages accruing from it do not remove a fear, which, as will be seen, is surely not without foundation. I am apprehensive that certain gentlemen, incessantly busied to open new channels to convey to them the substance of the people, may lay their greedy hands upon my salt, and undertake to distribute it, charged with some light tax. These light taxes are known always to grow heavier, and end with crushing; much like those snowballs, which, rolling down from the top of the mountains, and soon growing immensely large, root up trees, throw down houses, and destroy the fields. Let these gentlemen give in our newspapers, a positive assurance that they will never meddle with the management of my savours; the next day, I will publish my secret, distribute my powders, and regale all Babylon. I think I know the world: these gentlemen, you will see, will keep silence, and I my salt, and so nobody will be regaled. Illustration CHAP. II. THE KERNELS. My dinner ended and my lesson learnt, we sate out again. Let us (said the Prefect) take the benefit of this long shady walk, and go to the grove at the end of it. By the way, I will explain some matters relating to what I am going to show thee. Adam had just been driven out of Paradise, (continued the Prefect:) The tree, from which the fatal apple was gathered, disappeared: Innocence, everlasting peace, unmixt pleasure vanished; and death covered the earth with her mournful vail. Witnesses of Adams sin and punishment, the elementary spirits remained in a consternation mixt with astonishment and fear. All was silent, like the dreadful calm, which, in a gloomy night, succeeds the flashes of lightening. One of our spirits perceiving on the ground the remains of the fatal apple, hastily took them up, and found three Kernels: these were so many treasures. The forbidden tree, which was the cause of Mans misery, was to have been the cause of his happiness. It contained the shoots of the sciences, arts, and pleasures. The little, men know of these things, is nothing in comparison of what this mysterious tree would have disclosed in their favour. It was to vegetate, blossom, and bear seed for ever; and the least of these seeds would have been the source of more delights than ever existed among the children of men. We took great care of the three Kernels, which had escaped the total ruin just then befallen mankind; this was not sufficient to repair their unhappy fate, but it helped to soften it. As soon as we were returned to Giphantia, we consulted upon what we could do in favour of mankind so terribly fallen. Most of the spirits took the office of governing the elements, and, as far as lay in their power, of directing their motions, according to the wants of men. Those that remained at Giphantia, were entrusted with the sowing of the three Kernels, and carefully to mind what they produced. CHAP. III. ANTIENT LOVE. As we were talking we entered into a pretty large grove, in the midst of which, I perceived a star formed by most beautiful shrubs. From every part of these shrubs there darted forth a luminous matter, whereon were painted all the colours of the rainbow. Thus the sun, viewed through the boughs of a thick tree, seems crowned with sparkling rays, on which shine the liveliest and most variegated colours. The first Kernel taken from the fatal apple and committed to the ground, (said the Prefect of Giphantia) produced a shrub of the nature of those thou seest. Its leaves were like those of the myrtle. Its purple blossoms, speckled with white, were raised round their stalks in form of pyramids. Its boughs were thick and interwoven with one another in a thousand different ways. It was the most beautiful tree, nature had ever produced, therefore it was her most favorite object. A soft zephyr, gently moving its leaves, seemed to animate them; and never were they ruffled by the impetuous north winds; never was the course of its sap obstructed by winters frost, or its moisture exhausted by summers scorching heats; an eternal spring reigned around it. This singular tree, was the Tree of Love. It is well known what influence the extraneous particles of the air have upon us. Some accelerate or retard the motions of the blood, others dull or raise the spirits, sometimes they brighten the imagination, and sometimes they cloud it with the gloomy vapours of melancholy. Those that were exhaled from the tree of Love, and dispersed over the earth, brought the seeds of the most alluring pleasure. Till then, men, left to a blind instinct, which inclined them to propagate their species, shared that advantage (if it is one) with the rest of the animals. But, like a flower which opens to the first rays of the sun, their hearts soon yielded to the first impressions of love, and instinct gave place to sentiment. With that passion they received a new life; the face of nature seemed changed; every thing became ingaging; every thing touched them. The other passions disappeared, or were, in respect of this, like brooks to a river in which they are going to be lost. Superior to all events, love heightened pleasure, asswaged pain, and gave a charm to things the most indifferent. It enlivened the graces of youth, alleviated the infirmities of age, and lasted as long as life. Its power was not confined to the creating a tender and unchangeable attachment to the object beloved; it inspired also a certain sentiment of sweetness, which was infused into all men, and united them together. Society was then as an endless chain, each link was composed of two hearts joined by love. The pleasure of others was a torment to none: Gloomy jealousy had not possessed the human heart, nor envy shed her venom there. Concord multiplied pleasures: A man was not more pleased with his own, than with the happiness of others. Mankind was yet in infancy, and unacquainted with excesses. Adversity did not depress them to annihilation, nor prosperity puff them up to the loss of their senses. Their wants were few, the arts had not increased them. Frightful poverty appeared not among them, because they knew not riches; every one had necessaries, because none had superfluities. Utter strangers to the ridiculousness of rank, they were not exalted with insolence, nor did they servilely cringe; no man was low, because no man was high. All was in order, and men were as happy as their state would admit of. O nature! why dost thou not still enlighten us with those days of peace, harmony, and love! Illustration CHAP. IV. THE GRAFTS. The stinging nettle and wild briar increase and are renewed, (continued the Prefect) the tree of Love had not that privilege. Its blossoms vanished without leaving a kernel, and its shoots planted in the ground did not take root; they died and nature groaned. Mean while, this only tree was going to decay; its sap withdrew from most of the branches, and the faded leaves withered on their boughs. The elementary spirits were sensible how valuable the treasure was, that the sons of men were going to lose, and were under the deepest concern for them. They studied therefore to find the means to fix love upon earth, and imagined they had succeeded. They took from the languishing and exhausted tree, its best shoots and grafted them upon different stocks. This precaution saved love, but at the same time, altered its nature. Nourished by an extraneous sap, these shoots and their emanations quickly degenerated: So the exotic plants which grow in our gardens by the assiduous care of the gardiner, change their nature, and lose almost all their virtues. Love then existed among men; but what love? It sprung from caprice, was attached without choice, and vanished with levity: It became such as it is at this day amongst you. It is no longer that common band which united mankind, and rendered them happy; it is on the contrary, an inexhaustible fountain of discord. Formerly, it was stronger alone than all the passions together; it was subject only to reason: Now, it is overcome by the weakest passion, and hearkens to any thing but reason. To say the truth; it is no longer Love: Phantoms have taken its place, and receive the homage of men. One in the highest ranks only finds objects worthy his vows; he thinks it love, it is only ambition. Another fixes his heart where fortune is lavish of her gifts, he imagines, love directs him, but it is thirst of riches. Another flies from where delicateness of sentiments calls for his care and regard, and runs where an easy object hardly gives him time to desire. What is the ground of his haste? a depraved appetite for pleasure. Of pure, sincere, and unmixt love there is none left; the grafts are quite spoiled. At Babylon, degenerated love varied with the fashions, the manners, and every thing else. At first it gave into the Romantick: This was in the days of our good Knights Errant. It was all fire, transport, extasy. The eye of the fair was a sun, the heart of the lover was a volcano, and the rest of the same stamp. In time, it was found, that all this was departing a little from nature; in order therefore, to make it more natural, love was dressed like a shepherd with a flock and pipe; and spoke the language of a swain. In the heart of his noisy and tumultuous city, a Babylonian sung the refreshing coolness of the groves, invited his mistress to drive her flock thither, and offered to guard it against the wolves. The pastoral language being drained, the sentiment was refined, and the heart analysed. Never had love appeared so subtilised. To make a tolerable compliment to a girl beloved, a man must have been a pretty good metaphysician. The Babylonians, weary of thinking so deeply, from the height of these sublime metaphysicks fell into free speeches, doublemeanings, and wanton stories. Their behaviour was agreeable to their talk; and love, after having been a valiant knighterrant, a whining shepherd and a sublime metaphysician, is at last grown a libertine. It will soon become a debauchee, if it is not so already; after which, nothing remains but to turn religious; and this is what I expect. Moreover, the Babylonians flatter themselves with being a people the most respectful to the ladies, and boast of having it from their ancestors. In this respect, as in all others, two things must be distinguished at Babylon, the appearance and the reality. In appearance, no place where women are more honoured; in reality, no place where they are less esteemed. Outwardly, nothing but homages, inwardly, nothing but contempt. It is even a principle at Babylon, that the men cannot have, in an assembly, too much respect for the sex, nor, in private too little. Illustration CHAP. V. VOLUPTAS or PLEASURE. We came out of the grove. Men (said I to the Prefect) are highly indebted to you for preserving love, degenerated as it is. If you did but know what a void there is among them nowadays! Their amusements are so few, that the least of all must be to them very valuable. Love no longer makes their happiness; but it diverts them at least. What would the Babylonians do, if love did not put in motion all those walking statues, which you see so busy about the women? They sigh, they complain, they request, they press, they obtain, they are happy or dupes; it is just the same thing: But time passes, and that is enough for the Babylonians. In the beginning (continued the Prefect) nature, ever attentive to the welfare of men, begot Voluptas. She was an unadorned native beauty, but full of those charms which characterises whatever comes out of the hands of the common parent of all Beings. Nature gave her a golden cup, and said: Go among men; draw pleasure out of my works; present it without distinction to all mortals; quench their thirst, but make them not drunk. Voluptas appeared upon earth. Men flocked together in crowds; all drank largely of her cup; all quenched their thirst, none were intoxicated. Voluptas made herself desired, presented herself seasonably, and was always received with joy. As she offered herself with restriction, she was always cherished and never cloyed. Men, not being enervated by excess, preserved to a very advanced age, all their organs in vigor; their taste remained; and old age still drank of Voluptass cup. Nature has a rival, called Art, who, incessantly employed in rendering himself useful or agreeable to society, strives to supply what nature cannot or will not do for men. He resumes natures works, retouches them, sometimes embellishes, often disguises and degrades them. Art failed not to observe the conduct of Voluptas, and to refine whatever she offered to mankind. He could not bear an interval between pleasures, and would have them succeed one another without intermission. He ransacked all the countries of the world, united all the objects of sensuality, and multiplied a thousand ways the pleasures of sense. Men, surrounded with so many alluring objects, thought themselves happy, and in their intoxication, said: Without Art, Nature is nothing. But very soon their senses were cloyed; satiety bred disgust, and disgust made them indifferent to all kinds of pleasure. Neither Art nor Nature could affect them to any degree. From that time, they have hardly been able to amuse or divert themselves. Voluptas has no longer any charms for them. Illustration CHAP. VI. PERPETUAL YOUTH. There is no place (continued the Prefect) where these dissipations, supposed to supply the room of pure pleasure, are more necessary than at Babylon; so there is no place where they are more frequent. The Babylonians are known not to be made for much thinking, and, for good reason, it is not desired they should think. A wise policy has always proposed to keep as many employed as possible, and to amuse the rest. For these last it is, that the arts of amusement are incouraged, that publick walks are kept up at a great charge, that spectacles of all kinds are exhibited, and so many places tolerated, where gaming, drinking, and licentiousness serve for food to these heedless men, who, without these avocations, would not fail to disturb the society. These various avocations fill up the moments of life to such a degree, that there is no time for recollection, and for counting the years that insensibly fly away. A man declines, decays, is bent under the load of years, and he has not once thought of it. Rather let us say, there is no oldage at Babylon, for men of this kind: A perpetual Youth runs through their life; the same agitations in the heart, the same dullness in the soul, and the same void in the mind. Youths of twentyfive and of sixty, march with an equal pace to the same end. The desires, eagernesses, sallies, excesses are the same. All forgetful of themselves, still go on; and death alone is capable to stop the career of these decrepid youths. It is remarkable, that one day, one of those young old men, bethought himself to make reflections. When a man (said he) is come, like me, to a certain age, he does not fully live, he dies by degrees, and he ought successively to renounce whatever does not suit his state. There are things that become nobody, which however are connived at in youth; but which make an old man ridiculous. What business have I now with this costly furniture, these splendid equipages, with this table served with so much profusion? Am I excusable for keeping a mistress, whose luxuriousness will not fail to ruin me in the end? does it become me to appear still in those places, where licentiousness carries inconsiderate youth? I will forsake a world for which I am no longer fit, and will embrace that peaceful and retired life to which my declining age invites me. What I shall retrench from my expences, I will give to my nephew, who is coming; into the world, and should set out with some figure. Since I am dying by degrees, so by degrees he ought to inherit. This resolution being taken and well taken, a friend of his comes to visit him, sees him thoughtful, asks the reason and learns his design. What, (says he to him) have you not still spirit enough to withstand reason? She knocks, and it is going to be opened! what do you mean? Reason may be of use to a young man, to curb the fury of his passions; but must be fatal to an old one, in totally extinguishing the little relish he has left for pleasures. What a fine sight will it be, to see Plutarchs morals, Nicoles essays, and Pascals thoughts lodged in thy brain, close by Bocaces novels, La Fontaines tales, and Rousseaus epigrams! Believe me: Reason is good only for those, who have cultivated it long ago; heads made like ours cannot suit it. Our maxims and reasons are too contradictory; and instead of regulating, it would throw all into disorder and confusion. But (replied our new convert) dost thou know what thou art doing with thy extraordinary eloquence? never was so much reason used to prove, that we must act against reason. Come, let us go, my dear marquis, a free supper waits us at the ... where the nymph, thou knowest, will compleat my conviction: From thence we will go to the ball. Tomorrow, champagne at your cousin the countesss, and lansquenet, at our friend the Presidents. CHAP. VII. THE ITCHINGS. We walked toward the south. On this side, Giphantia ends in a point, and forms a little promontory, from whence there is a large prospect. This promontory is covered all over with a plant, whose boughs descend and creep every way. This is the production of the second Kernel. The plant never bears either leaves or blossoms, or fruit: It is formed by an infinite number of very thin small fibres, which branch out of one another. View carefully the fibres (says the Prefect to me.) Dost thou see at their extremity, little longish bodies, which move so briskly? They are small maggots, which this plant breeds; whether vegetation, carried beyond its usual bounds, produces them; or whether there comes at the extremity of the fibres, a sort of corruption, by which they are engendered. In time, these maggots waste away so as to become invisible: But withal they get wings, and growing flies, they disperse themselves over the earth. There, they stick fast to men, and cease not to infest them with a sting given them by nature. And as the tarantula, with the poison which she leaves in the wound she has made, inspires an immoderate desire to leap and dance, just so these small insects cause, according to their different kinds, different Itchings. Such are the itch of talking, the itch of writing, the itch of knowing, the itch of shining, the itch of being known, with a hundred others. Hence, all the motions, men put themselves into, all the efforts they make, all the passions that stir them. The sensation they feel on these occasions, is so manifestly such as we are describing, that when any one is seen in an uncommon agitation of body or mind, it is very usual to say, What fly stings? what maggot bites? Though nothing can be seen, it is perceived that the cause of so many motions is a stinging: A man often finds it by experience, and knows what it is owing to. When once men are troubled with these restless prickings, they cannot be quiet. He, for instance, that is stung with the itch of talking, is continually discoursing with every body, correcting those that do not need it, informing those that know more than himself. His visage opens, lengthens, and shortens at pleasure: He laughs with those that laugh, weeps with those that weep, without sharing the joy of the one, or the grief of the other. If by chance he gives you room to say any thing, speak fast and stop not; for, in an instant, he would begin again, and take care not to be interrupted. Never does he lend an ear to any one; and even when he seems to hold his tongue, he is still muttering to himself. He despises nothing so much as those silent animals, who hear little and speak still less; and he thinks no men more worthy of envy than those, who have the talent of drawing a circle of admirers, of raising the voice in the midst of them, and of saying nothings incessantly applauded. Sometimes the itch of talking is turned into the itch of writing; which comes to the same thing; for writing, is talking to the whole world. Then those torrents of words, which flow from the mouth, change their course and flow from the pen ... what numbers of bablers in these silent libraries! Oh how must those who have ears, and run over these immense collections, be stunned with what they hear! They are like great fairs, where each author cries up his wares to the utmost of his power, and spares nothing to promote the sale. Come (says an Antient) come and learn of me to practice virtue and become happy; come and draw from these pure fountains, whose streams are polluted by the corruption of men.... Come rather to me (cries a Modern) time and observation have opened our eyes; we see things, and only want to show them to you.... Mind them not (says a Romancer) seek not truth there; truth still lies in the bottom of Democrituss well. Come therefore to me for amusement, and I will help you to it. Come and read the life and exploits of the duke of    , the model of the court; he never attacked a girl without debauching her; he has embroiled above fifty families, and thrown whole towns into confusion: He must, it is plain, be one of the most accomplished men of the age.... I have things to offer you, much more interesting than all this, (says a Versifier) I have the prettiest odes and finest songs in the world, little soft verses, nosegays for Iris, and a complete collection of all the riddles and symbolical letters, which for these ten years have puzzled the sagacity of the strongest heads in Babylon.... Away with those trifles (says a Tragic Poet) and come to me: I manage the passions as I please: I will force tears from your eyes, transport you out of your senses, and make your hair stand an end.... That is very kind indeed, (says a Comic Poet) but I believe, it will be better to come to me, who will make you laugh at all others and even at yourselves. I pity you all, (says a Manhater) burn me all those books there and mine too; and let there be no mention of learning, arts, sciences, and the like wretched things; for it is I that tell you, as long as you have any reason, you shall have neither wisdom, nor conduct, nor happiness. I say nothing of the itch of knowledge, which should always precede that of writing, and which commonly follows it at a good distance, and often never comes at all. At Babylon, the itch of being singular, is like an epidemical disease. It is pretty well known wherein the Babylonians are alike, but it would be the work of an age, to say wherein they differ. Every one distinguishes himself by some remarkable stroke. Hence comes the mode of portraits, and the facility of drawing them. Draw them by fancy, you are sure they will meet with a likeness; draw them after nature, you will never fail of originals. There are some for the pulpit, for the use of the orators who want grace, there are some for the theatre, for the use of poets who want genius, there are some for writings of all kinds, for the use of the authors who want ideas. The most troublesome of all the itches produced by these insects, is the itch of being known. Thou canst not conceive, what efforts are made by all the men stung with this itch. I say all the men; for, who has not a view to reputation and fame? The Artisan shows his work, the Gamester his calculations, the Poet his images, the Orator his grand strokes, the Scholar his discoveries, the General his campaigns, the Minister his schemes. And even he that sees the nothingness of this chimra, still contemplates its charms, and sighs after it: Just so a lover, with a troubled heart, strives to abandon a faithless mistress, from whom he cannot bear to part. What designs, what efforts of imagination to make ones self talked of! how many things attempted and dropt! what hopes, fears, cares, and follies of every kind! Illustration CHAP. VIII. COMPENSATIONS. What you tell me (says I) is very extraordinary. But I cannot see why the elementary spirits raise and cultivate this plant with so great care. They who wish us so much good, in this respect do us very little. To behold men, stung to the quick, acting like madmen, losing their senses for chimeras, is a thing, in my opinion, deserving pity; but perhaps it may be an amusement to the elementary spirits. Like many others (replied the Prefect) thou judgest and seest things but in one view. The itches have their inconveniences; but that is nothing in comparison of their advantages. Without the itch of talking and writing, would eloquence be known? Would the sciences have been transmitted and improved from generation to generation? Would not you be like so many untaught children, without ideas, without knowledge, without principles? Was it not for the itch of being known, who would take the pains to amuse you, to instruct you, to be useful to you by the most interesting discoveries? Without the itch of ruling, who would busy themselves in unravelling the chaos of the laws, in hearing and judging your quarrels, in watching for your safety? Without the itch of shining, in what kingdom would policy find a vent for those respectable knickknacks wherewith she adorns those she is pleased to distinguish? And yet, this kind of nothings are, for the good of the state, to be acquired at the price even of blood. Thanks to our flies, there are some mad enough to sacrifice all for their sake, and others fools enough to behold them with veneration. Take away our insects, and men stand stupidly ranged by one another, like so many statues; let our insects fly, and these statues receive new life, and are as busy as bees. One sings, another dances, this reads his verses and falls into an extasy, that hears him and is tired: The Chymist is at his furnace, the Speculatist in his study, the Merchant at sea, the Astronomer discovers a new satellite, the Physician a new medicine, the soldier a new manuvre; in fine, the statues are men; and all this is owing to this plant and our care. I beg (said I to the Prefect) we may stand at a distance from this admirable plant; I dread more than I can express, the neighbourhood of these volatiles. I rejoice much to see them authors of so many benefits; but I fear still more, the uneasiness they create. Illustration CHAP. IX. NIL ADMIRARI. Your fearfulness, (says the Prefect) surprises me. Tell me, I pray, what idea hast thou of what is called grandeur, dignities, and high rank in a state? I am in this world (answered I) like a traveller, who goes on his way curiously observing the objects, but desiring none, because he is but a passenger. Moreover, if things are estimated according to the happiness they procure, I do not think that the highest places should be much valued; for, I see, they make no man happy, and are a misfortune to many. What of riches? added the Prefect. Pleasure (said I) is like a very rare commodity, which, however, every one would fain purchase. Among those that succeed, the rich buy it very dear, it comes cheap to the rest: One may as well be among the last as the first. Of the few pleasures that exist, the lower class enjoy as large a share as the highest. What of wit, genius, talents? says the Prefect. One half of the world, replied I, study to amuse the other. The first class is formed of men of talents; whose brains are wound up by nature higher than ordinary. They are incessantly striving to please: If they fail, they waste away with grief; if they succeed, it is never fully, and a single censure creates them more pain than all the encomiums together give them pleasure. It is, therefore, better to be of the second class, I mean among those who are amused by the others. As far as I see, said the Prefect, the aspect of the great and their pomp, of the scholar and his extensive genius, of the rich and his vast possessions, makes little or no impression on thy mind. I confess, replied I, that no man was ever less dazzled with all this than myself. Wrapt in a certain coolness of sense, I am guarded against all strong impressions. I behold with the same eye the ignorant who know nothing, and the learned who know all, except truth; the protector who plans, though he knows his weakness, and the protected who cringes, though he perceives his superiority; the peasant that is disgusted with the simplicity of his diet, and the rich sensual, who with thirty niceties, can hardly make a dinner; the duchess, loaded with diamonds, and the shepherdess decked with flowers; vanity, which dwells in the cottage as well as in the palace, and upholds the low as well as the high; care, which sits on the throne by the king, or follows the philosopher in his retirement. All the parts on the stage of this world, seem to me one no better than another: but I do not desire to act any. I would observe all and be taken up with nothing. Hence it is, that I dreaded the neighbourhood of these restless flies.... And hence it is precisely, interrupted the Prefect, that thou hadst nothing to fear from them. Thou admirest nothing; it is sufficient: The flies can take no hold of thee. The first impression they must make, is the impression of surprise and admiration; if they make not that, they miss their aim. But the moment admiration is admitted, a crowd of passions quickly follow. For, in the object of wonder, great hurt or great good is expected. Hence Love or Aversion, and all their attendants; restless Desire which never sleeps; Joy, which embraces and devours its objects; Melancholy, which, at a distance, and with weeping eyes, contemplates and calls for what it dreads: Confidence, which walks with head erect, and often meets a fall; Despair, which is preceded by fear and followed by madness, and a thousand others. If thou wilt rest secure from their attacks, cherish thy coolness of sense, and never lose sight of the grand principle, NIL ADMIRARI. Illustration CHAP. X. THE FANTASTICAL TREE. After having walked some time by the side of a rivulet, we came into a beautiful and spacious meadow. It was enamelled with a thousand sorts of flowers, whose various colours were, at a distance, blended together and formed shining carpets, such as art has never woven. The meadow was bounded by a piece of rock, like a wall; against which grew a tree, like an espalier. It did not rise above a mans height, but spread itself to the right and left, the length of the rock, above three hundred paces. Its leaves were very thin and very narrow, but in such abundance, that it was not possible to see the least part, either of the trunk or of the branches, or of the surface of the rock. Thou seest, said the Prefect, the product of the third and last Kernel; we give it the name of the Fantastical Tree. From this precious tree it is, that inventions, discoveries, arts and sciences take their original; and that by a mechanism, which will surprise thee. Thou knowest that the fibres of the leaves of a tree, are ranged uniformly on each of them; to see one, is to see all the rest. Here, this uniformity has no place; each leaf has its fibres ranged in a particular manner; there are not two alike in the Fantastical Tree. But, what is most wonderful, the fibres, on each leaf, are ranged with symmetry, and represent distinctly a thousand sorts of objects; one while a colonnade, an obelisk, a decoration; another while mechanical instruments; here, geometrical diagrams, algebraical problems, astronomical systems; there, physical machines, chymical instruments, plans of all kinds of works, verse, prose, conversation, history, romances, songs, and the like. These leaves do not fade. When come to perfection they grow by degrees prodigiously small, and roll themselves up in a thousand folds. In this state, they are so light, that the wind blows them away; and so small, that they enter through the pores of the skin. Once admitted into the blood, they circulate with the humours, and generally stop at the brain, where they cause a singular malady, the progress of which is thus: When one of the leaves is settled in the brain, it is imbibed, dilated, opened, becomes such as it was on the Fantastical Tree, and presents to the mind the images wherewith it is covered. During the operation, the patient appears with his eyes fixed, and a pensive air. He seems to hear and see what passes about him, but his thoughts are otherways employed. He walks sometimes at a great rate, and sometimes stands stockstill. He rubs his forehead, stamps with his foot, and bites his nails. They who have seen a geometrician upon the solution of a problem, or a naturalist on the first glimpse of a physical explication, must have observed these symptoms. This violent state proceeds from the efforts of the soul, to discern what is traced on the leaf; it holds longer or shorter, according as the leaf takes up more or less time in displaying, and aptly presenting itself. The abatement of the malady appears by light emanations from the brain, such as some ideas suddenly conceived, some designs hastily thrown upon paper, some scheme sketched in a hurry. The soul begins to discern the objects, and contemplate at leisure the Fantastical leaf. These last symptoms declare an approaching crisis, which quickly shows itself in a general evacuation of all that has been transmitted to the brain. Then verses flow, difficulties are cleared, problems are resolved, phenomena are explained, dissertations are multiplied, chapters are heaped upon chapters; and the whole takes the form of a book, and the patient is cured. Of all the accidents which afflicted him, there only remains an immoderate affection for the offspring of his brain, of which he was delivered with so much pain. CHAP. XI. PREDICTIONS. Behold, added the Prefect, showing me the extent of the Fantastical Tree, behold leaves for a century of designs, of discoveries, and of writings. Thou mayest examine at thy leisure what, during that space, will torment above a million of heads. I drew near, and attentively viewed a good while the wonderful tree, especially those branches on which the sciences vegetated; and after having examined it to the last boughs with all the attention and exactness I am capable of, I think myself qualified to make here some Predictions. The historical branch has an admirable effect; all the events are painted like a camayeu14, as by the hand of the greatest masters. So many leaves, so many little pictures. What will most surprise, is, that these pictures, seen in different points of view, represent the same subject, but represent it very variously: And, according to the manner of beholding it, the same action appears courageous or rash, zealous or fanatical, rational or silly, proud or magnanimous. So, according to the point of view, wherein these leaves present themselves to the brain of an historian, he will see things in a good or bad light, and will write accordingly. I would not have such works entitled, The history of what passed in such a time, but rather, The manner in which such an author saw what passed. Moreover this branch is plentifully furnished, and should be so. As long as there are men, there will be ambition, traitors, disturbers of the publick peace, merit will be forgotten and the worthless preferred, virtue will be oppressed, vice will be triumphant, countries will be ravaged, cities will be sacked, and thrones will be dyed in blood; and these are the food of history; excellent school, for youth to learn lessons of humanity, candor, and sincerity! The metaphysical branch is almost equally furnished: But its leaves are very thin, and their fibres so excessively small, that they are hardly perceivable. I greatly pity the brains where they will settle. I see but one way to give them ease: And that is, to treat the most thorny questions after the modern manner; I mean to supply the want of clear ideas and deep reflections, by bold and confident assertions, which may serve to impose. The moral branch droops, and receives scarce any sap; its withered leaves declare an approaching decay; alas! it is dying. The plans on it are quite effaced. This is too visible from the works that are published of this kind. The ideas of good and evil are confounded; virtue is so disguised as hardly to be known, nor is it easy to discern what is to be called vice. And yet, the whole is not said. There remains many arguments to be published against the obsolete notion of justice; many jests to be passed upon those who still talk of probity in the old fashioned stile; many fresh proofs to demonstrate, that national, private, and especially personal interest, should be the sole rule of conduct. At these so fine lessons, the Babylonians will clap their hands and cry: In truth, all the world was blind; and men did not see clearly till this present time. The poetical branch is in a very bad state; there are only a few boughs left, among others, the dramatic bough, and that so very weak, it can hardly support itself. There will appear from time to time at Babylon some tragic poets, but no comic. I suspect the reason. Formerly the Babylonians were only ridiculous; they were brought upon the stage and people laughed: Now, they are almost all vicious, but vicious upon principle; and such objects by no means raise laughter. The manners begin to be no longer theatrical. The panegyrical branch is very considerable, and bends under its load. There will be panegyricks applicable to a great man from whom some favour is expected; to an author who having flattered, receives homage for homage; to another, who is flattered, in order that he may flatter again. There will be some commercial ones, which will be sold, to one for his protection, to another for his table, to a third for his money. There will be also some, and in great plenty for those, who beg them: But there will be hardly any for those that deserve them the most. With goodsense alone, and the simplest notions which a bough of the philosophical branch furnishes, and which teach to estimate the things of this life according to their value, there will be formed, among the people, a number of practical philosophers; whilst, among the men of letters, all the penetration imaginable, all the knowledge they think they have, all the wit in the world will form only imperfect philosophers. They will avoid praises, but so as to attain them by some roundabout way. They will profess the most ardent zeal for all the citizens, nay, for all men in general; but they will care only for themselves. They will decide upon the most complicated, the most obscure, the most important questions, with an astonishing confidence; but in deciding everything they will clear up nothing. They will wear outwardly the most reserved modesty; inwardly they will be eaten up by ambition. Now, shall we call such persons philosophers? It is thus that we give the name of stars to those meteors, which kindle sometimes in the upper region of the air, make a blaze, and instantly vanish. In general, I thought, I saw upon a great number of leaves, things entirely contradictory. The century will slide away, and the sentiments upon the same objects will not be reconciled. According to custom, each will speak his opinion, and attack the rest. Disputes will arise; and the most bitter ironies, the strongest invectives, the most cutting railleries, nothing will be spared to raise the laughter of the crowd, and the pity of the wise. Illustration CHAP. XII. THE SYSTEM. Of an infinite number of plans of different works, that I saw drawn on the leaves of the Fantastical Tree, I remember three. In the first, the point in question is very abstract, but treated in so singular a manner, that perhaps it will not be disagreeable to give here a slight sketch of it. When I have examined matter, it has appeared to me, that it could not think, and I have readily admitted Beings purely spiritual. It is true, the least ideas of such substances have never been formed. This proves the sagacity of man does not reach very far: But does it prove there is nothing beyond? When I have considered the animals, I have not been able to help thinking them intelligent, and that so much ingenuity was not without some understanding. They are, therefore, said I, provided with a spiritual substance. But what! these insects, these worms, these microscopical animals, who increase without number in the shortest space, have they each a spiritual, that is to say, an unchangeable, immortal soul? I do not imagine, any such thought ever entered into a sound head. Then calling to mind that intelligent Being diffused through the whole earth, and perhaps farther, that immense spirit of whom some antient philosophers have talked, under the name of the universal soul; I have thought that, without multiplying infinitely spiritual substances, that soul was very proper to supply their place, and alone sufficient to give life to all the animals. I have therefore embraced the opinion of the antients, but with one restriction. They were persuaded that every thinking organized Being, is animated by a particle of the universal soul; That cannot be. If this soul is capable of perceptions, it is spiritual, and indivisible, and if it is indivisible, it cannot separate from itself any part to go and animate any Being whatever. If this spirit informs different bodies, it is because it operates at the same time in different places; and not because it sends any where some emanation of its substance. Farther: The antients believed that man, like the animals, derived from the universal soul all the intelligence he is endowed with; another mistake. If we consider in man, that hidden principle which carries him so efficaciously to follow the impressions of sense, though ever so repugnant to reason, we shall agree, with the antients, that this principle must be the same with that which animates, rules, and directs the animals; the pure sensitive nature of the universal soul is visible in it. But when I perceive in man another agent, which tends to subject all his actions to the rules of justice; which so often opposes the senses (though seldom with success) which, even when it succeeds not to hinder the sin, never fails to sting him with remorse and repentance; I cannot help thinking, that besides the universal spirit, there is in man another principle of a superior order: A principle known by the name of rational soul. It is manifest by the clashing between the passions and reason, that there are in us two contradictory Beings, which oppose one another. If I may be allowed to compare things of so different a nature, I should say that every thing which partakes of the universal soul is like a spunge soaked in water, and immersed in the sea; and that if, moreover, the body is endued with a reasonable soul (which is the case of man) it is like the same spunge soaked in water, but in which a drop of oil has found its way. In fine, the antients believed, that the universal soul was diffused every where; but neither can That be. Perhaps it pervades the terrestrial globe, or, it may be, the whole solar system, or even farther: But still it is certain, it has its bounds, it is God alone that fills immensity. But how shall the existence of a thinking Being be admitted, which, bounded as it is, has however so prodigious an extension? What ideas can be formed of its capaciousness and its limits? How can it animate so many bodies physically separated one from the other, and forming so many individuals? Let us fathom, as far as in us lies, these depths of obscurity. Since spiritual substances have no solidity, they are penetrable, and take up no room. From their penetrability it follows, that several spirits may exist in one and the same space, and that a body may also be in the same place. From their taking up no room it follows, that they have neither length, nor breadth, nor depth; that they have no extension properly so called. But still a spirit is a real Being, a substance: Though it takes up no room, it is necessarily somewhere; and, though it has no extension properly so called, it has necessarily its bounds. So, in a metaphysical sense, all spiritual Beings may be said to be more or less extended, to contain, and to be contained: And then we may return to our companion of the spunge, penetrated by a drop of oil, impregnated with water, and immersed in the sea. On the other hand, by virtue of the laws of combination, the result of the unions necessarily differs from the substances that are united; and it does not appear, that the soul and the body should make an exception. When the spirit and matter are united, think not the spirit the same as before; it is, in some measure, materialized; think not the matter such as it was before; it is, in some measure, spiritualized. From this mixture results a new Being, different from pure spirit, though it retains its noblest virtue; different from brute matter, though it partakes of its qualities: It is a particular Being, forming an individual, and thinking apart; in fine, it is such a Being as you that are reading, such as I that am writing. Therefore, what perceives in us, is properly speaking, neither the universal spirit nor the rational soul, nor organized matter: but a compound of all three. Just as when a lion roars, it is not the universal soul, that is in a rage; it is the compound of that soul and the brain of the lion. Hence it comes, that each animal forms a separate thinking individual, though all the animals think only by virtue of one and the same spirit, the universal soul. Let us proceed without losing sight of the faint light which guides us thro these dark paths. We have seen that, to form an animal, there needs only a combination of organized matter, and the universal soul; and, to form a man, there must be another union of organized matter, universal spirit, and rational soul. If the universal spirit was wanting; ever obedient to the dictates of the rational soul, we should see none but virtuous and spotless men, such as are no where to be found. If the rational soul was wanting, abandoned to this instinct of the universal spirit, which always follows the allurements of sense, we should see none but monsters of vice and disorder. The rational soul is united to the human body, the instant the motion essential to life is settled there, it is separated the instant that motion is destroyed; and, once separated, it is known to return no more, it departs forever; and enters into a state of which there is to be no end. The universal soul is united and separated in the same circumstances: But it is not always separated forever. Let, in any person, the motion essential to life, after having totally ceased, come to be renewed, (a thing which every physician knows to be very possible) and what will be the consequence? The rational soul, which departed upon the ceasing of the vital motion, cannot return; but the universal soul, always present, cannot fail of reuniting with the organized body set in motion again. The man is dead, for his soul is separated from his body. He preserves, however, the air of a living man; because the universal soul is resettled in his brain, which it directs tolerably well. Such to you appears a person perfectly recovered from an apoplectic or lethargic fit, who is but half come to life; his soul is flown; there remains only the universal spirit. Excess of joy, or of grief, any sudden opposition may occasion death, and does occasion it, in fact, oftener than is imagined. Let a fit of jealousy or passion affect you to a certain degree, your soul, too strongly shocked, quits its habitation forever: And, let your friends say what they please, or say what you will yourself, you are dead, positively dead. However, you are not buried: the universal soul acts your part to the deception of the whole world, and even of yourself. Do not complain therefore, that a relation forgets you, that a friend forsakes you, that a wife betrays you. Alas! perhaps it is a good while since you had a wife, or relations, or friends; they are dead; their images only remain. How many deaths of this kind have I seen at Babylon? Never, for instance, did contagious distemper make such havock as the late pious broils. It is true, the Babylonians are so constituted, that their soul sits very loose; the least shock parts it from the body; this is confirmed by observation. Call to mind their notorious quarrel about musick, their rage, their fury: How few heads were untouched? They are mad, said some reasonable people: But for my part, I knew they were dead. God rest the soul of the author of the Petites Lettres a de grands Philosophes! He had long been declining; and at last died some months ago. Instantly, the universal soul, possessed of his brains, dislodged some shreds of verses, jumbled them together, and framed that lifeless comedy, the indecency of which gave offence to all the Babylonians that remained alive. I shall now speak of the signs by which the living may be distinguished from the dead: And, doubtless, the reader sees already what these signs may be. To behold wickedness with unconcern; to be unmoved by virtue, to mind only selfinterest; and without remorse, to be carried away with the torrent of the age, are signs of death. Be assured, no rational soul inhabits such abandoned machines. What numbers of dead amongst us! you will say. What numbers of dead amongst us! will I answer. As there are signs which declare that such a particular person, who thinks himself, and whom you think full of life, is however deprived of it; so there are signs which show the ravages, these concealed deaths have made in the world. For instance, there must have been, of late years, a great mortality among the learned: For, if you observe almost all the productions of modern literature, you will find only a playing with words, destructive principles, dangerous assertions, dazzling hints. Alas! our authors are manifestly but machines, actuated by the universal soul. And, very lately, have we not had fresh proofs of this mortality? What is meant by these libels unworthy of the light? These whens? These ifs? These whatdyecalls? These wherefores? And I know not how many more with which we are deluged. Be not persuaded that rational souls are capable of such excesses. I will conclude with opening a door to new reflections. Suppose a man, like so many others, vegetates only, and is reduced to the universal soul, I demand whether the race of such a man is not in the same state. If so, I pity our posterity. Rational souls were scarce among our forefathers; they are still more so among us; surely there will be none left among our offspring. All are degenerating, and we are very near the last stage. Illustration CHAP. XIII. LETTER TO THE EUROPEANS. The second of the works, of which I remember to have seen the plan delineated on the leaves of the Fantastical tree, was digested into the form of a letter, addressed to all the nations of Europe, the substance of which is as follows: O ye powerful nations of Europe; nations polished, ingenious, learned, warlike, made to command the rest; nations the most accomplished upon earth; the times are come: Your profound schemes for the happiness of man have prospered: You enjoy it at length, and I congratulate you upon it. In natures infancy, those uncivilised ages wherein men wandering in the fields, were fed with the products of the earth, a perfect security, easy pleasure, profound peace, or rather languishing indolence benumbed all the faculties of the soul. But when the sweets of property had flattered the human heart; when each had his inclosure and could say, This is mine; then all was in motion. A man had too much of one thing, and too little of another; he gave the superfluity for what he wanted: And trade was established. It was at first carried on among neighbours; then, from country to country; and at last, from one of the quarters of the world to the other three. From that time, mankind have formed but one numerous family, whose members are incessantly employed in cheating one another. The spirit of distrust, finess, and fraud, have displayed all the springs of the soul; the talents have shown themselves, the arts have taken birth; and men begin to enjoy the full extent of their understanding. How well these profound speculatists have conjectured, who have told us: Would you have a state flourish? incourage populousness; for real strength and riches consist in a great number of citizens. To incourage populousness, enlarge trade more and more, set up manufactures, introduce arts of every kind; and, to consume superfluities, call in luxury. Let the names of those who have opened this admirable way, be carefully preserved in our kalendar. It is true, by following this method, you have missed your aim, which was populousness. What fortune soever a man may raise, it is consumed by the boundless expence of luxury, which always exceeds the revenues: There is nothing left for the education and settlement of children; and means must be used to have a small number, or even none at all. Long races suit only those remote times when your ancestors, plentifully furnished with necessaries, were so unfortunate as to have no idea of pageantry. It is no wonder, if people so barbarous as not to know silk, lace, tea, chocolate, Burgundy, Champagne, should so increase in the northern regions, as to overrun, like a torrent, all your countries, should found monarchies, and dictate laws, which are revered to this day. But what signifies populousness and multitude? Rejoice, O ye fortunate nations; for you have coffee and snuff, cinnamon and musk, sugar and furs, tea and china. How happy are you! and how composed should your minds be! It is true, toils, hunger, thirst, shoals, storms, sooner or later destroy these insatiable traders, who traverse the seas to bring you these precious superfluities. But with how many advantages are these petty inconveniences repaid? The face of Europe is entirely new! even to your constitutions all is changed. Thousands of quintals of spices, circulate in your blood, carry fire into your inmost nerves, and give you a new sort of Being. Neither your health, nor your diseases are like those of your forefathers. Their robust constitution, simplicity of manners, their native virtues, are they comparable to the advantages you enjoy? That sensibility of the organs, that delicacy of mind and body, those universal lights, those vices of all kinds.... What! will it be said, are vices also to be reckoned among the actual felicities of Europe? Yes, without doubt: Is it not daily proved, that virtue heretofore might be useful to the prudent economy of your ancestors, but that, for enlightened citizens, who no longer walk by the old rules, vice is absolutely necessary, or rather changes its nature and becomes virtue. Another advantage that you owe to the depth of your policy and extensiveness of your trade is, that perpetual occasions offer to show your courage, and to practice your military virtues. When formerly your countries were under that vast dominion, which swallowed up all the rest, they sunk into indolence; you had only short wars and long intervals of peace, every thing languished. But since, out of the wrecks of that unwieldy empire, a hundred petty states have been formed, every thing has revived. The Europeans have incessantly quarrelled and fought for little spots of land; the grand art of heroism is returned, the art of sacking provinces and shedding blood: And that balance of power so much talked of, is at last established, which puts all Europe in arms at the motion of the least of its parts, and by means of which, a single spark is sufficient to set the whole earth in a flame. Let us not regret those times so productive of warriors, when country heroes, each at the head of two or three hundred vassals, continually harrassed one another. The seeds of dissention, which were grown scarce in your climates, have been sought in the farthest parts of the earth; and from the bosom of the two Indias, commerce has brought fresh seeds of enmity, discord, and war. These fertile sources are not exhausted; there still remain countries to be discovered. O ye indefatigable nations! is your courage abated? What! should you confine yourselves to your late progresses, as if there remained no unknown lands? Will you never go and hoist your standards, and build forts, directly under the Poles? Rouse yourselves, there are still left riches to plunder, countries to waste, blood to spill. But why should you cast your eyes on such objects? Are not your possessions immense? Is not your luxury carried to the utmost height? Are there still new vices to be introduced among you? And do not you begin to shake off the troublesome yoke of every sort of duty? Without doubt, you are very well, nor were you ever better. The little way you have to arrive at perfection, will soon be gone over. When modern wisdom, which timorously conceals herself still in the shade, shall appear in broad day; when she shall have raised her proud head, and shall see all Europe at her feet, universally adopting her maxims, then, you will have neither religious nor moral principles; you will be at the summit of felicity. CHAP. XIV. THE MAXIMS. The third work of which I remember to have seen the sketch on the Fantastical Tree, was entitled, Rules of Conduct for the Eighteenth Century, addressed to a young Babylonian, who is coming into the world. It contained the following Maxims. Every country has its customs, every age its manners; and, in human wisdom, the only unchangeable Maxim is, to change with the times and places. The most unquestionable Maxims of the Babylonians, and of the present times are such as these: To have true merit does not much signify; but to have small talents is essential. To make ones court, for example, and pretty verses, is sufficient to prosper: and even farther than can be imagined. Great faults shall be forgiven you, but the least ridiculous ones are unpardonable. You think right, and say excellent things: But take care you do not sneeze; it will be such an indecorum, that all the Babylonish gravity would not be able to hold; and you might speak still better things, and not a soul hear you. Be particularly careful to act entirely with reference to yourself, and to talk always with reference to the publickgood. It is a fine word, that publickgood: If you would, it will never enter into your heart; but it must be always in your mouth. Seek not the esteem of the Babylonians in place, that leads to nothing; seek to please. What, think you, will esteem do for you? It is so frozen a sentiment, has so distant a relation to self! But amuse their highnesses, and their eminencies, you will then be prized, they will not suffer you out of their sight; they will do all for you, and think they can never do enough. Wait not to sollicit for a place you may be fit for; probably you will not succeed. But ask, without distinction, for whatever shall offer. It is a secret to you, but you must know, that it often enters into the depth of true policy, to prefer unfit persons, and remove those that are capable. In fine, if you will prosper, turn, according to circumstances, flatterer, like a dedication; quack, like a preface; verbose like a book of art or science; enthusiast, like a demiphilosopher; liar, like an historian; foolhardy, like an author who is resolved to be talked of. These are the true principles of wisdom: But remember, it is the Babylonian wisdom of the Eighteenth Century. CHAP. XV. THE THERMOMETERS. As I was attentively examining a leaf of the Fantastical Tree, on which I perceived grand projects, and insufficient means; I saw another, so small and curled as to be almost invisible, fly off from a neighbouring bough, and suddenly disappear. At the same instant I felt a slight pricking in my forehead, and a sort of restlessness in my head, which I cannot describe, and which has not left me ever since. Certainly this leaf has entered my brain, and is labouring to unfold itself; some new invention will result from it one time or other. I even begin to suspect of what kind; and I imagine, it will be a mechanical affair. If I am not mistaken it is this: The different tempers, the different talents, the different dispositions depend upon the heat and motion, more or less considerable, of the animal spirits: This is a settled point among the physicians; I shall not appeal from their judgment. The question would be to find a mechanical instrument, to discover in each person the degree of heat and motion of this animal liquid, in order to discern what any one is fit for, and to employ him accordingly. This is what I am seeking, and what the leaf, which is busy in my brain, when unfolded will not fail to show me. I will compose a quintessence analogous to the animal liquid; and, instead of spirits of wine, I will fill thermometers with it. On the side of the tube, in the room of the different degrees of the temperature of the air, there shall be an enumeration of the objects, about which men are usually employed: Instead of cold, temperate, hot, very hot, c. shall be put, good for history, good for physick, good for poetry, good for the gown, good for the sword, good for the mitre, good for the baton, good for Bedlam, c. When a person shall put his hand upon the phial, the liquor will be condensed, or dilated; and, rising or falling in the tube, will show what the person is good for. I will present Thermometers to sovereigns, that they may chuse Generals, Ministers, Counsellors, and especially Favourites, who will love them enough to tell them the truth. I will give some to Bishops to fill their Benefices and Dignities, for I observe, that those who are appointed to watch, should themselves be watched. I will give some to Fathers, that their children may be wisely disposed of: We shall not see them gird with a sword a son whom they ought to dedicate to the altar, nor bury in a cloister a daughter who would have been the delight of a husband, and the happiness of a family. I will give some to the Great, that they may discern those who deserve their protection: They will grant it no more to a base flatterer, to a supple intriguer, to an ostentatious mean person, who has pretensions; but to true merit, which is seldom seen by them, and never with all its advantages. I will give some to those tenderhearted virtuous Girls, made to enliven the small number of our pleasures, and to allay the multitude of our troubles. With my Thermometers, they will chuse husbands worthy of their affection, if any such there be; and they will not see themselves given up to men born for the plague of their sex; those men without morals, who marry for life, and espouse only for six months. In fine, I will give some to particular persons, that each may examine himself, and act accordingly: For I observe, that generally every one does what he should not do; I see none but what are misplaced. I am now solliciting for a pension, to defray the vast expence, that I must evidently be at in making Thermometers, even though I should give them only to such as most want them. It is true, that reflection might serve instead of my liquid and glasstubes, but reflections are known to be very rare. For example, it is now at Babylon as on the real stage; all is action, nothing is thought, and my Thermometers may become a necessary piece of furniture. CHAP. XVI. THE LENTILS. The sap which circulates in the Fantastical Tree, said the Prefect, is exhausted in bearing and nourishing leaves. Let it be considered, how many plans, views, projects, come into mens heads; the prodigious quantity of leaves that this tree must furnish will be astonishing; and it will be no longer wondered, that its whole substance is wasted in their production. Mean while, the sap, passing into the philosophical branch, makes more progress there than any where else; it produces blossoms, and sometimes fruit. These blossoms are of a singular form and colour, that is to say, admirable to some eyes, and very odd to others. Their odour is very penetrating; few love it, many cannot bear it: To like it, requires a strong head, and a brain organized on purpose. These same blossoms are extremely delicate: The least change of the air disorders their economy. They generally fade without leaving any fruit. In fine, the fruit is very late, and seldom comes to perfect maturity. The shell is almost round, divided within into little cells, and ending at the top in a crown. The little cells of the philosophical fruit, are full of seeds transparent as crystal, round and flatted like a Lentil, but infinitely smaller. When the fruit is ripe, it bursts; the cells open, the seeds come out. But as they are very light, they are suspended in the air, and the wind blows them every way over the surface of the earth. One thing would astonish thee if thou wast not a little versed in chymistry and optics, and that is, these philosophical grains have a particular analogy to the eye. They will not stick to any other substance; but, as soon as they come within the reach of certain eyes, they never fail to fasten on them, and that just before the sight of the eye. As they are perfectly transparent, they cannot be perceived: But they are discovered by their effects. He that has a seed of this kind before his eyes, sees things as they are, and he cannot be imposed upon by chimras. What used to appear to him great, is prodigiously lessened, and what appeared to him little, is magnified in the same proportion; so that to his eyes, every thing is upon a level or nearly so. In general, men appear to him very little, and those lords over others, whom he beheld before as colossuses, seem to him so little above the rest, that he hardly perceives the difference. He sees the extent of human knowledge, and finds it so near to ignorance, that he does not conceive how learning can breed vanity, or ignorance cause shame. He sees without disguise the phantom of immortality, the idol of the great and the jest of the wise. He sees the celebrated names penetrate a little more or less into futurity; and then stop like the rest and sink into eternal oblivion. He sees what is low in the most sublime; the dark part of what casts the most lustre, the weak side in what appears the strongest: And his imagination presents to him nothing dazzling, but wherein his reason discovers all the defects. He sees the earth, as a point in the boundless space; the series of ages, as an instant in eternal duration; and the chain of human actions, as the traces of a cloud of flies in the aerial plains. In fine, he respects virtue; and, as to the rest, whatever he perceives all around him, even to the most minute things, seems to him all alike. He esteems nothing, he despises nothing, he prefers nothing, and accommodates himself to every thing. Such a man cannot be conceived to be susceptible of all those little sallies of joy which affect others, but then he is screened from those little mortifications which trouble them so much, and in my opinion, he is a gainer. CHAP. XVII. THE SUBTERRANEOUS ROAD. I have one thing more (said the Prefect) to show thee; prepare thy eyes and thy ears; and be frightened at nothing. The rivulet, by the side of which we walked to the Fantastical Tree, receives several streams as it flows along; and, as if it left with regret so beautiful a residence, after forming a thousand serpentine windings in the meadow, it glides gently towards its mouth. In that place, a hole, formed by an opening of the earth, receives and transmits it through subterraneous channels. We came to the place where it was broadest. The bottom was of smooth gravel, and the water not above an inch deep. The Prefect went in and I followed him. I had gone but a few paces, when the bottom gave way: I sunk, but it was only to my waste; and I remained in that posture, without being able to get to one side or the other. Fear nothing, says the Prefect, calmly enjoy the last spectacle I have reserved for thee. I then gave myself up to the efforts of the waters, which carried me away, and I soon entered into the subterraneous cavities, where they were lost. At a little distance, the rivulet flowed into another, and soon after, both ran into a river. I was carried from stream to stream; I crossed gulphs, lakes, and seas. As long as a faint light permitted, I contemplated the internal frame of the earth. It is a labyrinth of immense caverns, deep grottos, irregular crevices, which have a communication with one another. The waters that flow in these subterranean places, spread themselves sometimes into vast basons, and seem to stagnate; sometimes they run with a rapid stream through narrow straits; and dash against the rocks with such impetuosity, as to produce the phosporus and flashes of lightening; very often they fall from the top of the vaults with a dreadful noise. The dazzled eye sees, as it imagines, the foundations of the earth shake; one would think, that the whole was turned upside down, and falling into chaos. When the glimmering light, which I had enjoyed some time, came to fail, I found myself buried in profound darkness, which increased the horror, I had conceived at what I had seen. A hideous noise, mixed with the murmuring of the streams, with the whistling of the gulfs, with the roaring of the torrents, threw me into great perturbation of mind; and my troubled fancy formed to itself a thousand frightful images. I went on a good while in this darkness; and I know not how far I had gone when a faint light struck my eyes. It was not like that which precedes sunrising, or follows sunset; but that melancholy light, which a town on fire spreads at a distance in the shade of the night. I was some time before I saw whence it came: At last, I found myself close to the most terrible of all the sights. A vast opening exposed to my eyes in an immense cavern, an abyss of fire. The devouring flame rapidly consumed the combustible matter with which the arched roofs of the abyss were impregnated. A thick smoke mixed with fiery sparks, diffused itself to a great distance. From time to time, the calcined stones fell down by pieces, and the liquified metals formed flaming streams. Sometimes whole rocks, rent from the tops of the vaults, gave passage to water, which poured down in boiling streams. The moment the water touched the calcined matters and melted minerals, it caused most shocking detonations: The concavities of the globe resounded, their foundations were shaken: And I conceived that such was the cause of those terrible earthquakes, that have destroyed so many countries, and swallowed up so many cities. I was soon in darkness again; for I still went on. Every moment I should have been destroyed, if the Prefect of Giphantia had not watched over me. I saw him no more: But his promise was with me: And the dangers, I had escaped, heartened me against those I had still to undergo. By degrees I took courage, and became so easy as to make some reflections. Alas! said I, through a frightful desart I came into the most beautiful mansions in the world, and I am now going thence through gulfs, abysses, and vulcanos. Good and evil closely follow one another. It is thus, the light of the day and darkness of the night, the frosts of the winter and the flowers of the spring, the gentle zephyrs and the raging storms, succeed one another. However, by this strange concatenation, is formed the enchanting prospect of nature. Let us not doubt it: The natural world, notwithstanding its disorders, is the masterpiece of infinite wisdom; the moral world, in spite of its stains, is worthy the admiration of the philosopher: And Babylon, with all its faults, is the chief city of the world. At last, after many days of subterraneous navigation, I once more saw the light; I came out of these terrible vaults, and the last current landed me upon a maritime coast. The serenity of the air was not ruffled with the wind; the calm sea shone with the rays of the risingsun; and, like a tender wife who stretches out her arms, and sweetly smiles on a beloved husband, the earth seemed to resume new life at the return of that glorious orb, from whence springs all its fertility. By degrees, my troubled senses were calmed: I looked round me, and found myself in my own country, six hundred furlongs northwest from Babylon, to which city I address and dedicate this narrative of my hazardous travels. FINIS.  Footnote 1: The Jansenists (so called from Jansenius bishop of Ypres) explained the Doctrine of Grace after the Calvinistical or rather Methodistical manner, whilst the Molinists (so named from Molina a Spanish Jesuit) explained it after the Arminian or rather Semipelagian way. The Gallican clergy were divided between these two Opinions. The reader may remember, there are three opinions concerning Grace. Says the Calvinist and Methodist, Grace does ALL. Says the Arminian and Semipelagian, Grace does HALF. Says the Pelagian, Grace does NOTHING. Footnote 2: The city of Ombi stood on the eastern side of the Nile, and Tentyra or Tentyris on the western; both in Thebais part of Upper Egypt. The Tentyrites were professed enemies of the Crocodiles, whilst the rest of the Egyptians held them in great veneration, especially the Ombites, who for their sake waged war with the Tentyrites. Footnote 3: Our author in this and the following chapter gives a very lively summary of the four great monarchies of the world. I. The Assyrian or Babylonian founded by Nimrod (or Belus I.) soon after the dispersion at Babel, and which ended with the taking of Babylon (A. C. 538) by Cyrus who founded II. The Persian empire which ended with the defeat of Darius Codomannus (A. C. 334) by Alexander the Great who founded III. The Grecian or Macedonian empire which in about five years was divided among his successors, and at length (after the battle of Actium and death of Cleopatra) became subject to IV. The Roman empire under Augustus Csar, of which there are still some remains. Footnote 4: Arbaces governour of Media, and Belesis of Babylon. Footnote 5: After the death of Sardanapalus (who is said to burn himself, his wives and concubines, his eunuchs and riches, in one of the courts of his palace) the empire was divided into the Median over which Arbaces reigned at Nineveh, and the Assyrian over which Belesis reigned at Babylon. These were united under Cyrus about 210 years after. Belesis (the Baladan of Scripture) is called also Nabonassar. From the first year of his reign begins the famous Astronomical ra of Nabonassar, containing 908 years from February 26 before Christ 747, to the 23d year of Antoninus Pius in the year of our Lord 161. Footnote 6: Nebuchadnezzer (A. C. 589) utterly destroyed Jerusalem, put out king Zedekiahs eyes, killed his sons and erected the golden image in the plains of Dura. Footnote 7: By a solemn treaty Ptolemy had Egypt, c. Cassander had Macedonia and Greece. Lysimachus had Thrace, Bithynia, c. Seleucus had Syria, c. Of these, the kingdom of Egypt (under 14 monarchs including Cleopatra) and of Syria (under 27 kings) subsisted till subdued by the Romans. The rest soon fell to pieces. Footnote 8: His Library is said to consist of above 200,000 volumes. Among the rest was the Septuagint or Greek translation of the Old Testament A. C. 267. done by Ptolemys order. This library was at last destroyed by fire. Footnote 9: This man who from a huntsman raised himself to the throne of Lusitania (now Portugal) defeated the Romans in several battles; so that Cepion the consul was forced at last to have him murdered by treachery. He was (says Livy) much lamented and honorably buried. Footnote 10: Rome was taken by Alaric king of the Goths in 410. By Genseric the Vandal in 455. By Odoacer king of the Heruli in 465, and by Totila the Goth in 546, by whom it was miserably plundered. Footnote 11: Attila king of the Huns, (called the scourge of God) after his other devastations entered Gaul with 500,000 Men and was defeated in the plains of Chalons in 451, with the loss of 200,000 Huns. After which he wasted Italy and destroyed Aquileia and other places. Then returning home, he died on his wedding night. The Huns were the most terrible of all the northern swarms. By the very terror of their countenances they are said to overrun the Scythians, Alans and Goths. They were so ignorant as not to know letters. Footnote 12: Mahomet was born at Mecca in Arabia, May 5, 570. He is thought by some to be persuaded that he was really inspired to propagate the belief of one God, and to overthrow the idolatrous religion of his country. If he retained some absurd notions, it was (say they) to induce his countrymen to embrace his religion. The Mahometan ra begins July 16, 622, when he fled from Mecca to Medina. He died Jan. 17, 631, after having reduced Arabia to his obedience. His religion has since spread itself over Asia, Africa, and great part of Europe. Footnote 13: Soliman, father of the Othman race, came out of Scythia with 50,000 men in the year 1214, and pushed his conquests to the Euphrates. In attempting to pass that river he was drowned in 1219. Othman his grandson was declared sultan in 1300. Mahomet II. the seventh emperor of the Turks, put an end to the Eastern empire by taking Constantinople in 1453. The Turks embraced the religion of Mahomet. Footnote 14: Camayeu, is a stone, whereon are found various figures formed by nature. It is the name the orientals give the onyx, on which and on agate, these natural figures are often found. When the figures are perfected by art, it is still called a camayeu, as is also a painting in one colour, representing basso relievos.  TRANSCRIBERS NOTES 1. Changed all long  to short s. 2. Added 200 to all page numbers in Part 2 to avoid conflicts with Part 1 numbering. 3. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 4. Retained anachronistic, nonstandard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 5. Footnotes have been reindexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the last chapter. 6. Enclosed italics font in underscores. 7. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in curly braces, e.g. Mr. or Mister. Illustration ENCAUSTIC PAINTING. Illustration ENCAUSTIC: OR, Count CAYLUSS METHOD of PAINTING In the MANNER of the ANCIENTS. To which is added A sure and easy METHOD for Fixing of CRAYONS. By J. H. MNTZ. Illustration LONDON: Printed for the AUTHOR; and A. WEBLEY, at the BIBLE and CROWN near CHANCERY LANE, HOLBORN, 1760. Illustration TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Richard Lord Edgcumbe, Controller of his MAJESTYS Household. My LORD, I Should be afraid to offer you the following Treatise if I could not flatter myself with the hope that its intrinsic Merit, and the Intention it was writ in, would in your noble and generous Mind counterbalance the Defects and Improprieties of Language, of which, as almost unavoidable to a Foreigner, it must of course be guilty of. The subject I present you with is known to you long ago; you saw the first Essays and Experiments in Encaustic; You was pleased to approve of them, and to express some Satisfaction at the least Picture executed in this manner. With what greater Advantage could I usher this new Invention into the World, than dedicating it to You; to make it known that the GREATEST PATRON of Arts, and the best Judge of the Merits of Painting approved of it?Count CAYLUS invented it; under the Sanction of your Lordships Name I offer it to the Public, and with a grateful Sense for all the Favours and Kindness You have at all Times shewn towards me. I am, my Lord, your Lordships most obedient and most obliged humble Servant, J. H. MNTZ. ENCAUSTIC: OR, METHOD of PAINTING In the Manner of the ANCIENTS. A relation of my proceedings, to reduce this singular invention into a regular system agreeable to reason, and practical in itself, would be tedious and superfluous: To enter upon the process without giving the reader some little account of the matter, would be improper. As something is required to introduce the reader, and as the books I must refer to are not in every bodys possession, I shall in lieu of introduction, insert the whole as laid before the Royal Society,which is as follows. EXTRACT of a LETTER1 From the Abb MAZEAS, F. R. S. Concerning an ancient Method of Painting. Revived by Count CAYLUS. Count CAYLUS, a member of the Academy of Inscriptions, had undertaken to explain an obscure passage in PLINY the naturalist. This author (whom I have not now before me) says in some place of his works, that the ancients painted with burnt wax2 and we have it from tradition, that pictures of this kind were very durable. This was the passage, the count undertook to clear up, in trying all the different ways that are possible to paint in wax; and after many experiments, he hit upon a very simple method, of which he made a secret, in order to excite the curiosity of the public. The several artists who were desirous of knowing by what means the count came to make this discovery, made several attempts themselves; but in a great number of trials, only two are worth mentioning. The first was to melt wax and oil of turpentine together, and use it for mixing the colours. But this method does not at all explain PLINYS meaning; because wax is not burnt in this way of managing it: and besides, this method has two defects; the oil of turpentine dries too fast, and does not allow the painter sufficient time to blend and unite his colours. The second method is very ingenious, and seems to come up to PLINYS notion very well; it is as follows; the wax is melted with strong lixivium of salt of tartar, and with this the colours are ground. When the picture is finished, it is gradually put to the fire, which increases the heat by degrees; the wax melts, swells, and is bloated up upon the picture; then the picture is removed gradually from the fire, and the colours do not at all appear to have been disordered; the colours then become unalterable by the action of the fire, and even spirit of wine has been burnt upon them without doing them the least harm. However, the following is the Count de CAYLUSS method, which is much more simple; according to which the head of Minerva was painted, which was so much admired by all the connoisseurs. First. The cloth or wood designed for the picture is waxed over, by only rubbing it simply with a piece of beeswax. Secondly. The colours are mixed up with common water; but as these colours will not adhere to the wax, the whole picture is to be first rubbed over with Spanish chalk, or whitening, and then the colours are used. Thirdly. When the picture is dry, it is put near the fire, whereby the wax melts, and absorbs all the colours. It must be allowed, that nothing can be more simple than this method; and it is thought, that this kind of painting is capable of withstanding the injuries of the weather, and last longer than painting in oil; which I will not answer for. The effect produced by these colours upon wax is very singular; nor can one have any notion of it without seeing it. The colours have not that natural varnish or shining, that they acquire with oil; but you are capable of seeing the picture in any light, or in whatsoever situation you place it; in short there can be no false glare or light upon the picture for the spectators: the colours are secured, are firm, and will bear washing; and have a property, which I look upon as the most important of any, which is, that they have smoaked this picture in places subject to foul vapours, and to smoke in chimnies; and then by being exposed to the dew, it became as clean as if it had been but just painted. These are all the contents of the letter, laid before the Royal Society by a member of that learned body, who accompanied it with a series of very acute and learned observations, which, with an extensive knowledge, shew an inclination to prove that the counts method could not be the encaustic of the ancients, and that encausto pingendi could be nothing else but enameling.      It is neither my business nor intention to enter into discussions; it would be too difficult a task to prove that the counts invention comes up to PLINYS meaning; no certain evidence can be brought neither for nor against it. Any discovery that tends towards improvement of arts and sciences is valuable; that the counts invention is of this kind, will appear to every unprejudiced mind. Therefore it matters not if the ancients did so or not. But, to give my opinion onlythe numberless experiments I made to bring the new encaustic into a regular systemthe repeated trials to explain PLINYS meaning any other way that would answer the general ends of painting, c. induce me to believe that encausto pingendi of the ancients could not be enameling, but must have been some manner of painting very near of kin to that which is the subject of this treatise. Besides the clear and expressive words of our ancient authorCeris pingere ac picturam inurereand where he speaks of their ship paintingresolutis igni ceris penicilio utendicarry a silent proof with them, that the Latin verb urere ought not to be understood in so fierce a degree as enameling requires.3 In both the above cited passages cera is in the plural number; and for this very reason I believe it can mean nothing else but beeswax simple, or compounded with other ingredients capable to sympathise therewith. It would be ridiculous to suppose the Latin tongue so defective in PLINYS time, as not to afford two distinct names for two things so opposite as enameling and ship painting are. I cannot conceive what good enamel would or could do to their ships, without undergoing the operation of the fire after being painted. Nor can I form any idea of a Roman enameled firstrate man of war. The most probable reason, for PLINYS not giving a better account of particulars may be, that he knowing nothing at all of the matter, used the term of art then in vogue; or was imposed upon by artists who did not chuse to part with the secret of their art. Instances of this kind we have every day.Arts and trades abound with jargon and mystical names, which, if taken or explained literally, would often prove but little analogous to their subject. Writers that pay no regard to that, and without farther scrutiny speak and relate what they are told, must of course be unintelligible. Hence it comes that most of our dictionaries on arts and sciences, and the greatest number of books on painting, are so perplexing; and in many a point rival PLINY in obscurity. To write upon a subject and unfold its mystery, one ought to be practically acquainted with it; a superficial drawing is not enough; to teach others how to go to work, the section is wanted. If all books upon arts and sciences, manufactures and mechanics, had been or could be written by the respective professors thereof, things would appear in another light; we should, perhaps, not have the finest language in those performances; but we do not want that, plain truth and common sense is all that is required; if a guide leads us the right way, we need not mind his dress. I shall make no apology for this performance of mine: if the contents do not speak for themselves, my abilities as a writer would but weakly support them, only as new inventions are frequently condemned for no other reason but because they are new; it becomes me to acquaint the public, that I should never have gone so far as to publish this system, if I had not been convinced of its merit by experience and practice; I made many and various experiments (as will be mentioned in the sequel) to ascertain its stability; and having painted several pictures of different sizes, I can answer for its practicability. In short, it is a manner of painting susceptible of all the boldness, freedom and delicacy of any other whatsoever; you may leave off and cherish your work at pleasure, you cannot fatigue your colours, you are not subject to that inconvenience attending oil painting, viz. of setting ones picture by to dry, c. You will have all the effects and sweetness of painting in oil, and the colours will not be liable to fade and change; no damp can affect it, no corrosive will hurt it; nor can the colours crack and fall in shivers from off the canvas. Let nobody think me too positive, or intoxicated with my own notions, before they have gone through the whole treatise, and made a few experiments. I advance facts, and not conjectures only. It is not my intention to quarrel or depreciate oil painting, nor will I attempt to deny its true merit; therefore hope it will not be considered as a crime to propose a method that will equal its perfections, and surpass it for duration and stability of colours. I tell artists what I know, they may do what they judge proper. Though I bestow encomiums upon my subject it is not with a design to impose; I am not selfconceited, or foolish enough to think or believe that Rynolds or Ransey, Scott or Lambert, c. c. will take up at once and prefer my new system to that they practised for many years with success and applausethey, and every body else, may try; a trifling expence, and a few idle hours will afford experiments by which they will know if what I advance will really be an advantage to their works and themselves. And how far it will answer, either whole or in part, the general ends of painting, one single sketch will be enough to judge by; in arts, one experience is worth a thousand conjectures. In the prosecution of my system, oilcolours came always in for a part of the experiment, in opposition to those fixed with wax, in order to judge better and with more precision of their variation. By this it happened that I often painted oilcolours over a waxed ground; which colours always appeared brighter and cleaner than the very same painted over an oilcloth; at least I fancied that dead colouring in water colours and finishing in oil, was an experiment worth trying. For this purpose (as portrait painting is not my province) I pitched upon a head of Sir Godfrey Kneller, a gentleman and friend had sent me to copy small in oil; accordingly I dead coloured it in water colours and fixed them with wax, and afterwards finished it in oilcolours, not only to my satisfaction and surprize, but every bodys else that saw it; the brightness and transparency of its colours is not to be conceived. I copied the same head again in oilcolours only, and with all imaginable care and attention, but the colouring of the latter looked dull in opposition to the other4; to give reasons for this incident is more than I can do; I shall give a few conjectures, and conjectures only, upon it, under the article of experiments. If I should not gain the approbation and good will of the oil painting faculty, for a few hints: I am sure those artists who profess painting in crayons will be beholden to me for what I shall communicate to thema method to fix crayons or pastelle. Every body knows the beauties and pleasing effects of those paintings and their perishable qualities so well, that to enlarge upon is needless to bestow great encomiums upon my secret, which is so closely connected with encaustic for the pencil, and whose merit has already been mentioned, would be superfluous; the process and experiments I am now going to unfold will be of more weight than all my reasonings previous thereto. To make the whole familiar and easy to all capacities, I thought it convenient to lay down the whole penciling system under five different articles or periods, according as they succeed each other in the execution; and to keep the thread of the proceeding uninterrupted, I shall make a few observations upon every article in particular, and there give and explain the different methods that may be practised for the same end, together with my reason, and why I deviated in some parts from Count CAYLUSS system. The operations for painting with crayons will be treated and explained separately, and upon the same plan. Lastly, the experiments will come in to illustrate both, and verify what I advance. ART. I. Preparation of the cloth for painting in Encaustic. Take any sort of clean linen cloth whose texture is pretty close, soft and even, stretch it upon a straining frame, as you would do an oil cloth, lay it upon a smooth table, the side your are to paint on downwards, then with a piece of common bees or virginwax rub it over and over, till you perceive a good quantity of the wax adhere to the cloth, in equal proportion over the whole.5 Your cloth thus waxed is ready to paint upon if it be fine; if it is coarse, turn it, and with a pumice stone gently rub over the side which is to receive the colours, to take off all the knots and unevenness that might obstruct the free flowing of your pencil. If you want to paint a picture of any determined size, provide a straining frame, whose inner circumference is equal to the height and width required; that is to say, you must have two frames, the one to work and finish your picture upon, the other whereon the picture is to go and remain when finished. The first must be of such height and width, as to contain between its inner edges cloth enough to cover the second. No part of the cloth you paint over ought to touch the wood of the frame, if it did the wood would imbibe part of the wax, when the picture is brought near the fire, and leave those parts imperfect. ART. II. Of the colours and their preparation. All colours used in oil painting are fit for this manner, and no others. There are a few that ought to be omitted; for reason see the list of colours. Grind all your colours very fine with simple water, allot to every particular colour a distinct vessel, such as gallipots, pans, c. From your colours so ground, compose all the different principal tints, as the nature of your intended work shall require. But, as most of the colours acquire a deeper hue when moistened, and some deeper still when fixed with wax, it will be necessary, to prevent perplexity in the execution, to have a guide for retouching, either when the picture is finished and dry, before the operation of the fire, or after it is fixed; for this purpose you may, before you go to work, use the following expedient. Take two slips of cloth about a foot long, and three or four inches wide, wax them as before mentioned, then upon the one slip paint of every one of your entire colours6 about an inch high over the whole width of the cloth, and with your tints already composed do the same upon the other piece of cloth, according to their order and degradation;7 mark every tint with a number, such as 1, 2, 3, c. write down upon a paper every number, and what it is composed of. This done and your colours so applied dry, cut your cloth across all the tints from top to bottom in two equal parts; bring one half of each near the fire, and by melting the wax fix them, the other two halves you keep as they are unfixed. By rejoining and comparing them together, you may judge what strength every tint will acquire, and by their reciprocal references you will be enabled to alter or imitate, deepen or heighten with certainty, any tint, either before or after the colours are fixed. In painting be not sparing; the greater body of colours you employ, the better and brighter your work will appear; you may give greater freedom to your pencil, blend and sweeten your colours better than in any other way of painting. ART. III. How to paint over or alter any part before the picture has been near the fire. If the parts of the picture you want to retouch are large and the colouring dry, take a large soft hair pencil, and with water gently moisten those places, or the whole picture if you please, and repaint till your eye is satisfied. You might paint over, or alter any part without moistening, but on a first trial you would not so well see what you are about. While the picture is wet it appears very near what it will be when fixed; when it is dry it looks like a weak dead colouring in oil. You will see enough to judge of the general effect, but none of the tenderer half tints will appear discernable enough to judge of them with precision. In large pictures where the cloth will be required stronger, a picture is kept wet with great ease and security, by moistening it on the back with a large brush as often as there is occasion, for the water will soon soak through the texture and take hold of the colours; there is no danger of disturbing them on the other side with the action of the brush, by reason of the substance of the cloth. ART. IV. To fix the colours by melting the wax. When your picture is finished and dry, have a good clear fire of seacoals,8 approach your picture with the painted side towards it, at about two feet distance, let it grow warm by gentle degrees, always approaching nearer, till within a foot distance from the grate, but never closer, holding your picture perpendicularly or a little inclined as you shall find necessary. If the picture is large do one half first, then the other; there is not the least difficulty for any size. When you perceive by the hue and shining of the painted surface that all is perfectly absorbed; then remove it gradually from the fire as you advanced it, and your picture will be done. If you see any place defective for want of a sufficient quantity of wax,9 put a little finely scraped wax on the back of that place, then bring only a red hot poker, or some such thing towards it, the wax will immediately settle in its place. If there are many parts so defective, put scrapings of wax there, and bring the whole picture before the fire as above mentioned. There is no danger in bringing the picture to the fire as often as required, provided you never give it too great a degree of heat; if you do, the wax will raise in bubbles upon the surface, and your picture will look rough and uneven. Advance your picture never too hasty, nor retire it too quickly; if you do the former, the sudden action of the fire might disturb some of the colours; if the latter, the wax will not retire enough within the texture of the cloth, consequently lye too much above the colours and look glaring. If you perceive any such glaring spots or places upon your picture, or (in other words) parts that appear varnished like, and that appearance should proceed from too great a quantity of wax, paint those places over on the back with whitening, or any one of your other colours, and when dry bring the picture near the fire, as above mentioned, and those colours or whitening will imbibe the overplus of the wax. Repeat that if required. ART. V. How to retouch or paint over any part after the colours are fixed. Put upon your pallette such of your tints as will be fit for the place or parts you want to alter or paint over, temper and employ them with a little spirit of wine;10 repaint, and bring the picture to the fire as often as required, and those retouched parts will become fixed like any other part of the picture. Observations on article the first. As linen cloth is the material most commonly and preferably used, as the fittest and most convenient to paint upon, I chose to give under Article the first, directions for that purpose only; for though the wax and colours may be applied to cloth and other materials in several different manners, I, not to bewilder the beginners in multiplicities on a first setting out, gave and recommend that, which besides its being the likeliest to be most practised, is the best for solidity, and will prove to every practitioner the easiest, most agreeable, expeditious and convenient for execution. But not to deprive the artists and curious of the several means and methods that may be practised for and towards the same end, I shall here give some of the principal ones, as well for painting upon canvas as upon wood, plaister, c. but first of all I shall consider and treat Count CAYLUSS system a little more at large, and shew why I have deviated from it in this particular, and leave the artist at liberty to adopt and practise which suits him best. The Counts method for preparing the cloth consists, in stretching it upon a frame, and holding it horizontally over, or perpendicularly before a fire (at a distance convenient and proportionable to the degree of heat it casts) and rubbing it with a piece of wax; which, melting gradually as it is rubbed on, diffuses itself, penetrates the body, and fills the interstices of the texture of the cloth, which when cool, is fit to paint upon; but, as water colours will not adhere regularly flowing and connectedly to the wax, He, to remedy this inconveniency, makes use of an intermediate body, viz. chalk or whitening, with which he rubs over that surface of the waxed canvas he intends to paint upon, and then the colours will easily flow over and adhere to it. Now, though this way of proceeding is very simple and successfully practicable for small subjects;for instance,such as the head of Diana, mentioned in the Abbs letter, or any other that may be finished in a couple of hours, and while the colours upon the canvas retain moisture; yet, to execute pictures of a larger size and composition, which will require many a days labour and application, and whereof no part can be finished positively at the first onset, this manner of managing it will not answer so well, as that given under Art. the first, for the following reasons. First. In painting upon the wax by virtue of the whitening, you will not have that conveniency of retouching or altering of any part, and before the colours are fixed, so well, as painting upon the raw and bare canvas will afford you; because the texture and fibres of the cloth being thoroughly invaded by the wax, there remains nothing for water colours to fix or adhere to, capable to retain them; those colours once dry, the slightest touch of a moist pencil will, as it were, attract them, and frequently make and leave a bare spot; so that in attempting to retouch, instead of adding fresh colours, you will fetch off the old ones: for though the rough edged particles of the chalk facilitate to the first colours an adhesion upon the smooth body wax yet, water the vehicle of the colours, being the menstruum of chalk, by discomposing it destroys part of its power and virtue, and renders it incapable to perform the first service a second time. Secondly. Upon canvas fully imbibed with wax, you can neither use so great a body of colours, nor employ them with such freedom, boldness, or delicacy as you may upon cloth, whose texture is not preoccupied with waxthe reason is obviousthe one has its pores and interstices filled up with wax; the others you must fill up with colours. Cloth, a firm spungy body or substance, in sucking in the water attracts the colours along with it into its pores, and thereby facilitates the firm and delicate strokes; and the colours mixing and adhering to its numberless fibres, will not come off on retouching, before the picture is fixed; you may cherish or leave your work at pleasure without detriment or inconveniency arising from that. Advantages that cloth preoccupied with wax is incapable of. Thirdly and lastly. By painting on canvas prepared according to the directions of Art. the first, your works will be more solid and lasting, because the colours will not simply lay upon the surface of the wax, but cloth, wax and colours will make but one individual body.Thus much on my deviation from Count CAYLUSS system, in regard to the preparation of the cloth. For painting upon walls or plaister where the wax cannot be applied on the back, the Counts system must be practised; it will succeed well; the rough and gritty grain of the plaister will take and retain a sufficient quantity of colours to insure solidity; the only difference between painting upon cloth and plaister consists in this; painting upon canvas you can finish your picture entirely before you fix it; in painting upon plaister, you must proceed as you do in painting with oilcolours, viz. first, dead colour your subject and fix it, and then paint it over again and finish it, either by virtue of the chalk, or by tempering and employing the colours with some spirit, or oil of turpentine. You may too paint and retouch with crayons. Upon wood, stone, and metals,you must proceed as you do upon plaister; but as there is no grain you must procure an artificial one, after your board is waxed, by laying on a ground of any colour mixed with half chalk and fix it11; upon this you may paint with water colours or crayons, as sweetly as upon canvas. To paint upon paper;you must have a smooth board, or copperplate of a convenient size, and well waxed; upon this you fasten your paper by the corners and paint upon; the colours dry, present it to the fire, and the wax underneath the paper melting, will soak and penetrate through and fix the colours; this method may be successfully practised with cloth. There are two more methods remaining to be practised on cloth and paper; but as they make part of the system for painting with crayons, and will be described under that head, I omit to mention them here. Observations on Article the second. In grinding the colours upon the stone, and managing them upon the pallette, care should be taken not to use an iron knife, the steel or iron that grinds off, in mixing with the colours spoils their brightness and vivacity; flakewhite and whitelead, yellowoker, lacque and lightred, suffer greatly by it, it gives them a dull and dirty cast; Naplesyellow suffers most of all from it; its vivacity is entirely destroyed by the irons touching it. Horn, ivory, or tortoise shell knives, or wooden spatulas are fitter for all manner of painting; they will affect no colours; iron knives have destroyed many a tender complexion in oilcolours; for, the oil once dry, the iron ground off from the knife and mixed in the colours will be converted into rust by the moisture of the air.Tho this little hint is foreign to our present subject, it will perhaps not be unacceptable to my brethren.It is an essential point in an architect to be acquainted with the qualities and properties of the materials he builds with, if his plan and stile, dispositions, proportions, c. be ever so good, noble, grand and graceful, yet if his fabric falls down as soon as built, we are but little beholden to his skill.Vandyke, I believe, never used an iron knife, if he had he would not have painted a spatula of horn in one of his pictures, wherein all the utensils of a painter accompany his own figure.      The expedient recommended under Art. the second, for establishing a standard for all the differing principal tints that may be required for any subject, will be of use to them who are not much acquainted with painting in water colours; and to ladies and gentlemen, who painting only now and then for their amusement, cannot have so thorough a knowledge of the value of each colour, and might therefore be at a loss how to retouch, after the colours are fixed. To make the directions given for that purpose more intelligible, and to point out the use of such a standardlet us supposethe annexed copper plate figure A. B. C. D. to be a piece of cloth, about a foot long and three or four inches wide, waxed on the back, as directed under Art. the first, and the divisions a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. c. be the tints painted, according to their order and degradation, across the whole width of the cloth A. B. these tints dry, cut the piece of cloth across all the tints from top E. to bottom F. in two equal parts, bring the one half A C near the fire, and by melting the wax fix it, the other half B D you keep as it is unfixed. Now, the half A C being fixed, will shew you at one glance what strength every tint will acquire; and if you moisten again the other half B D, or paint the same tints upon a fresh piece of cloth, you will see which are the colours that grow deeper still, fixed with wax than they appear when only moistened with water, and the references 1 2 3 4 5 c. telling you what each tint is composed of, you will be enabled to amend any one that might be amiss. Farther, when your picture will be fixed and it should want retouching, and you should be at a loss for hitting of the tint or hue required for that purpose,bring only the fixed half A C upon the picture and compare them, and you will easily find what you want; again, if you want to renew any tint that is spent, find that tint upon the picture, with the fixed half A C, when found compare it to, and moisten its fellow upon the unfixed half B D, and that will give you again the original hue, and the references 1 2 3 4 c. will tell you what that tint is principally composed of. Illustration Tho professed artists (whose long experience enables them to judge of the value of each colour) will not have absolute occasion for the comparative use of such a standard, yet they will not do amiss to make an essay of their tints before they employ them. Observations on Article the third. The being able to work and retouch at pleasure, and at any time, without fatiguing the colours, or any other detriment arising from it, is an advantage peculiar to encaustic only; for, the new colours will unite with the old ones without making spots, as is the case in common sizepainting; nor will there be that inconveniency of rubbing the places to be retouched over with oil, as is the case with oil pictures; the only seeming difficulty to a beginner, will consist in the colours growing paler and weaker in drying, but as a picture is easily kept wet, by moistening it now and then as above directed, the difficulty vanishes. Pictures of any size may easily be kept wet for several days, by applying a double wet cloth on the back; but a little practice will render that precaution unnecessary. Every body in the least acquainted with colours, knows that water colours, tempered or employed either with gum or size, grow paler and lighter in drying, and that they acquire their true tone only when dry;in encaustic they grow paler and lighter too in drying, but they recede from and lose their true tone.Encaustic is the reverse of sizepainting as to effect, while you are at work and the colours wet;of the latter you cannot judge positively until the colours are dry; of the former you can only judge while the colours are wet, or which is the same, when fixed with the wax. Observations on Article the fourth. The most essential point in encausticthe fixing of the coloursis the simplest and easiest for paintings of any size, moveable or immoveable. A surface of forty feet may be fixed as conveniently as a picture of twelve inches; for if the painting be too large to be brought near the fire, or immoveable on a wall, bring that agent to the painting;a square copper or iron chest, or box, such as commonly used for warming or airing of beds, with a red hot iron or lighted charcoal in it, will do the business admirably well, by passing it in a direction parallel to and before the painted surface, at a distance proportionable to the degree of heat it casts,a brasier ambulant, with a cover to prevent the ashes from flying about, with charcoal well lighted, will answer the end too, by inclining the picture over it,an instrument of iron like a bakers shovel, with a long handle and made red hot, will perform the same service, if waved in a parallel direction before the painted surface; and by heating it again, when grown cool, with such an instrument one may fix paintings of the largest size; it matters not if the whole be fixed at once, or in parts at different times. The directions for rectifying of any defects arising from too small a quantity of wax, are so clear, simple and sufficient, that they want but little explanation or addition; only, you may instead of wax simple use wax dissolved in such a quantity of oil of turpentine, as to make it when cool, fluent enough to be employed with a brush on the back of the picture, which, when brought to the fire, the wax will settle with the colours, and the turpentine will fly off. My saying under the above article that the sudden action of the fire might disturb some of the colours, must not be understood in regard to the wax, but in regard to the nature of the colours, which, if the picture be brought too near the fire at once, will be scorched before the wax can melt and penetrate the texture to screen and secure them. Observations on Art. the fifth and last. The facility and conveniency for retouching a picture after the colours are fixed, without the new colours differing from the hue of the old ones, is an advantage no other manner of painting is possessed of. In oil painting you cannot do it so well except you paint over large parts, because the colours in drying acquire a yellower hue, than they have while fresh; there will always be a difference between the very same tints; besides, oil pictures are frequently greasylike and refuse the new colours, so that you are obliged to rub those parts with oil, to make the new colours adhere to and flow over the old ones, which rubbing with oil very often makes a dull and yellow spot when the colours are dry; in sizepainting it is worse, retouchings there in general appear hard, and in large masses of a uniform colour,such as skysproduce spots.Encaustic is free from all that; you may glaze with a body of colours as thin and as transparent as you please, without your colours changing of tone. By retouching with crayons upon the fixed colours, the sweetest effects may be produced in landscapes and figures; nay, for retouching only here and there, I should prefer crayons. For instanceto finish a head,and give the decisive strokes about the eye, mouth, hair, and sharp folds of linen, c. in landscapesfor the extremities of trees, c. the smart touch of a crayon will be preferable to the pencil. When your picture is entirely finished, and you should want to give the canvas more solidity, you may paint it over on the back with any colour or tint, and bring it again and for the last time to the fire, to fix that colour; if you apprehend there is not wax enough, apply a little dissolved in spirit of turpentine, as mentioned in the foregoing observations on Art. iv. this fixed take your picture off from the frame, and stretch it upon that whereon it is to remain. Having now done with the process for painting in encaustic with the pencil, which notwithstanding its simplicity might appear to some beginners intricate, because I pointed out all the difficulties that possibly may occur in the execution,to comfort and encourage those that might think the task hard, I shall recapitulate, and reduce the whole within this compass.Stretch a piece of cloth upon a frame, rub the back of that cloth with wax, paint your subject on the other side, with colours prepared and tempered with water, and when dry bring the picture near the fire, and by melting the wax fix the colours. N. B. I might have said much more, and dwelt longer on several particulars; but as the only aim of this treatise is to communicate the discovery to artists, and others already acquainted with the management of colours, and not to form pupils from beginning, I omitted saying any thing of composing the tints and disposing the colours on the pallette, c. Every artist may go on in his accustomed method; the use of all the colours is in encaustic as in oil, as may be seen by the following list. The direction for painting with crayons will illustrate some passages of the foregoing process, and what other advantages encaustic painting will have over oil and sizepainting will be shewn by conclusions drawn from the experiments. The end of the first part. LIST of the COLOURS To be USED for Painting in Encaustic; AS ALSO FOR THE COMPOSING of the CRAYONS. WHITE. Flakewhite, and whitelead, or ceruss. For painting in encaustic, I mix always both together half and half; flakewhite alone is subject to raise too much little bubbles in employing it with water, which the admixture of the other prevents; besides, both together make a better and more solid body; tho flakewhite is the whitest of the two, to use either alone I should prefer the second. The Venetian or Dalmatian whitelead is by far the best for all manner of painting; being prepared with a purer and subtler acid it is whiter and purer than any other whatsoever, and preferable to flakewhite; next to it is the German or Dutch; French or English ceruss are in general but indifferent, in experiments I frequently found the latter to have one third of marle or chalk in its composition; which is the cause of its growing so soon yellow, dull and dirty in oil. In composing of the crayons it will be well to observe the above mentioned proportion of half and half, as by the doing so, much pipe clay will not be required to bind them. YELLOWS. Naplesyellow, Lightoker, Brownoker, Yelloworpiment, or, Kingsyellow, Redorpiment, are all perfectly good and necessary for our purpose. Naplesyellow is the only colour that ought to be used in composing the tenderer flesh tints of women; it proves a very tender, bright and beautiful lasting colour for all manner of painting, if properly prepared and managed, if not, a dirty, weak and treacherous one, and particularly in oil. It is a mineral compound of lead, antimony, sulphur, and some arsenic, which latter is the cause of its changing, and hurting other colours, and particularly the white, so much complained of by the painters. Though this yellow fixed with wax will not change; yet it will not be amiss to insert a method to clean, and purify it, so as to render it beautiful and lasting for oil and other uses. To clean it do as follows. Take crude Naplesyellow, (the heaviest for bulk is the best) and break it into small pieces with the mallet upon the grinding stone, put it in a clean earthen vessel, and pour over it a quantity of new milk, sufficient to cover it three or four inches over, stirring it well for some time with a wooden spatula or stick; then let all together stand undisturbed for five or six days, and the milk will become thick and sour, and master by its acidity the noxious saline principles of the colour; having stood the abovementioned time, take off the creamy part from the top of the milk, and pour warm water upon it, and let the vessel overflow till you perceive the water to come off as clear as when poured on, and the colour will be purified and fit for use. Lightoker, a precipitated, feruginous earth, answers in encaustic all the purposes it does in oil. Brownoker, a precipitated feruginous earth too, only it partakes a little of a vitrioline principle, which the lightoker does not. In encaustic this colour answers all the purposes it does in oil. Yellow orpiment, or kingsyellow. The principal constituent particles of this colour are, sulphur and arsenic, which latter prevails and makes great havock among the other colours when used in oil; it cannot play the same tricks fixed with wax; wax being a closer and unvariable body, confines its arsenical principle. Oil once dry ceases to be oil, and can confine them no longer. Redorpiment, so called to distinguish it from the other, is properly not red, but of a rich orange colour, and is a compound of arsenic and sulphur too; but here sulphur prevails, which is the reason of its standing its ground better and doing less harm in oil than the other. In encaustic it is of universal use, throughout a whole picture to give warmth to lights and shades; in landscapes it may be used from the horizon down to the fore ground, to good purpose; for shades in flesh it is admirable, it gives a clear, soft and transparent strength; in the verdure of landscapes it answers all the ends for brownpink, when mixed with a little bone black. This colour is very conspicuous in all the warmer landscapes of Claude Lorraine; Mr. Vernet a famous French painter uses it very much. PINKS. Lightpink, and brownpink. These two colours ought rather not be used, as they both proceed from the same vegetable principle, viz. the juice or extract got by decoction from French berries by the help of acid salts; consequently incapable to sympathise with or admit wax into their pores12; the wax can take hold of them only superficially, which makes them appear dry and gritty upon the picture, and will easily come off by rubbing them with ones finger. Those artists who cannot do without them, will do well to grind them, the lightpink with a little lightoker, and brownpink with a little brownoker, and they will keep a little better; but redorpiment and a little bone black, making as fine a pink as that properly so called, it will be best to use the latter. REDS. Lake, Vermilion, or Cinnabar, Minium, or Redlead, Lightred, or Lightoker calcined Brownred, or Brownoker calcined Indianred, are all properly qualified for encaustic. Care must be taken to have the lake good; that which is commonly sold under the name of Florence lacque, and recommended as the best, is in general the worst; it is usually in small hard grains, which hardness is owing to gum arabic, or what is worse, to that glutinous substance which oozes out from the cherry tree, put in by the fabricant (of the lake) to bind and keep the grains together, and make it appear better merchandise than it really is; such lake will scale off from the canvas; the gum it is impregnated with hinders the wax from penetrating its poresevery body knows that lacque is made of cochineal; there is a bastard lake made of Brazil wood, but that is easily known by its dullness. The best lake for our purpose is that which is of a fine, clear, deep hue, easily to be broken and crumbled between the fingers. The finest and best lacque I ever saw and used, is made here in England by an ingenious artist in the seal engraving way. Vermilion, or cinnabar, answers in encaustic all the purposes it does in oil. Minium, will be of infinite service for painting with the pencil and crayons; it will not change fixed with wax, as it does in oil; it may be used to advantage in some carnations or flesh tints; and in landscapes to enliven the oker, for great lights. Lightred, or lightoker calcined, is of the same universal use in this manner of painting as it is in oil, or common water colours. Brownred, or brownoker calcined, may be employed for the same use as in oil, or distemper painting. Indianred, the French call this colour, Terre dAngleterre, English earth; this colour is particularly useful for distances, it makes the degradation of objects light and airy. TERRA DI SIENA, and TERRA VERTE, Terra di Siena, a yellow hard and clayish substance, so called from the city of Siena in Italy, from whence it comes. This colour is very unfit to be used crude, either for painting in encaustic or crayons, its pores are too close for the wax to penetrate; or to say better, this colour or earth is very much impregnated with a nitrous principle, with which wax cannot sympathise, and for this very reason it is as unfit to be used crude in oil. Those painters that use it freely have always but too much reason to repent. But, Terra di Siena calcined, is a very beautiful and useful colour for all manner of painting, and particularly encaustic. The fire having dispelled in some measure the nitrous principle, the wax may freely enter its pores. This colour gives a great, soft, and glowing strength in flesh, drapery and landscape; some painters call this colour Roman oker. Terra verte; this colour too comes to us from Italy, and some from Germany, they are both alike, and ought to be entirely banished the pallette, as it grows so soon dirty and black when employed with oil. Terra verte differs from terra di Siena in little else but colour, it has a little vitriol. The too free use some of the older Italian painters made of this colour in flesh tints, is the cause that numbers of pictures of those masters are so black as we see them at this time. BLUES. Ultramarine, Prussian blue, Smalt. Ultramarine is perfectly good, and every body that likes to use it may do so. Prussian blue, equals ultramarine in encaustic, for all intents and purposes; there is no other blue required for crayons neither. Smalt may be used, but I think it rather too gritty; its particles are too transparent for parts where a solid mass of colour is required. For crayons it does very well mixed with Prussian blue to bind it, both together make a beautiful colour, the grittiness of smalt will there be of advantage. This colour will not grow black fixed with wax as it does in oil. BLACKS. Ivory Black, Bone Black, Blue Black, have all the necessary qualifications to be employed. Ivory black may be employed for all the uses made of it in oil. Blue black is particularly necessary for landscapes; the blue black generally sold at the colour shops is commonly made of wine stalks; but blue black made of peach, apricot, or plumstones calcined, is by far the best; it is not so loose and spungy as the former, its colour too is finer. Bone black is the most valuable of the black tribe for sweetness, and a transparent warmth for landscapes and figures; bone black and white alone will make softer and more natural turning tints than any other colours can produce; the Flemish painters use it very much for glazing. This black mixed with a little terra di Siena calcined, makes the strongest and sweetest shades that can be obtained with colours. The best is made of the bones of mutton trotters calcined. COLLENS EARTH. A dark blackish brown and somewhat bituminous earth, inclining a little towards purple, is a very good colour, and of singular use where extraordinary strength is required in fore grounds. UMBRA, Crude and calcined. A useful colour enough for common purposes; some painters use it for shades in flesh, but very improperly, for it is a very raw colour crude or calcined, and only fit to be used in drapery or back grounds. These are all the colours that ought to be used for painting in encaustic, with the pencil; there are a few more that might be employed in this manner, but as they are rather inferior in quality, or only compounds of those already mentioned, I omit them; a few, not commonly used in oil painting that notwithstanding might be used in encaustic, I shall mention under the article of crayons, as they belong more to, and are more useful in that way. ENCAUSTIC; OR, Method of painting with and fixing of the CRAYONS. The method of painting with and fixing of the crayons comes not only within the sense of encaustic, but is the very selfsame thing. The whole proceeding is founded upon the foregoing principle; the same materials and agent are required.The only difference between painting in encaustic with the pencil, and painting in encaustic with crayons, consists in employing the colours; in the formeryou paint with colours tempered with water; in the latteryou employ, and paint with the same colours dry; the effect and solidity will be equal and the same in both.      The encomiums I bestowed upon the penciling system, are applicable to that of the crayons; I shall say nothing more; experience will be the best panegyrist. I am afraid crayons, as seemingly the less troublesome, will carry the golden apple; I will not anticipate the decision of the public.I shall give the hint, and my fellow artists may make use of it as they please.      As the system of encaustic for the pencil is the parent of that for the crayons, and as both may be happily blended and jointly practised to good purpose, I shall, to avoid tiresomely repeating the same thing over again, refer the reader to the former process whenever similarities of proceeding occur; they, besides commenting each other, will open to the more timorous artist a freer field of action. As I did in the former, so shall I in this, give that method of proceeding, which by experience I found to be the best. Though this system did not enter in the original plan of publication with the other, and I intended to withold it from the public a little longer, to see what reception the former should meet with; yet as it got vent by shewing it to few friends, and a gentleman offering me (in his opinion) a considerable reward to dispose of the secret in his favour only, I, to prevent some modern PLINYs casting more direct reflexions upon me, without my having the skill of Apelles to uphold my reputation, at least thought proper to give them to the public both at once. To make discoveries that may be of infinite advantage to arts, subservient to private avarice, is the foible of a weak, jealous, and illnatured mind.Here follows the process; and first the preparation of the cloth. ART. I. Preparation of the cloth, or paper, for painting with crayons. First method to prepare the cloth without paper. Take any sort of linen cloth whose texture is pretty close and even, stretch it upon a straining frame and rub it on the back with a piece of wax, as directed under Art. the first, page 26. your cloth waxed, prepare any tint or colour you like, or judge best for a ground to work upon, let enter into the composition of this tint or colour, one half, or at least one third of chalk or whitening, mix and temper all with pure water; your tint ready, paint over your cloth with it on that side you are to paint upon, and lay the colour on pretty even and substantially; this colour or ground dry, bring the canvas near the fire, as under Art. the fourth, page 35. and the wax melting will fix that colour or ground, which when cool will be a fit and firm body to work upon with crayons. Note, if the quantity of wax should prove too small for the quantity of colour, apply with a brush on the back some wax dissolved in turpentine, as described in the next page, and bring the canvas again to the fire. It is essential in painting with crayons to have the first ground properly prepared. Second method, to prepare cloth with paper pasted thereon. Take linen cloth and stretch it upon a frame as the foregoing; then make a paste with fine wheat flour, or starch and water, and when the paste is near boiled enough, put in and mix with it of common horseturpentine, about half an ounce to six ounces of paste, stir it well together, and let it simmer five or six minutes longer; then take it from the fire and set it by to cool a little, and while it is still tolerably warm, paste your paper (grey, blue or white) to the cloth in the usual manner, and set it by to dry.In the mean time put wax, broken in small pieces, to dissolve in oil of turpentine near a fire, and in such proportion that, when dissolved and cold, it will be of consistence like a thin paste, and fluent enough to be managed with a brush.When your cloth and paper is perfectly dry, hold it over or before a fire, at a convenient distance, and with a brush apply the dissolved wax on both sides to cloth and paper, and continue laying on wax till you perceive both surfaces equally shining, and there be no imbibedlike spot remaining; this done, let your cloth stand before the fire about half an hour longer, (or in summer in the sun,) and, the oil of turpentine evaporating, the wax will become firm again, and be fit to receive any tint or colour for a ground to work upon, which you must lay on and fix as the foregoing upon cloth without paper, and when cool you may go to work. ART. II. Of the crayons their preparation and use. PREPARATION. There is no particular or uncommon preparation or composition required for encaustic, all crayons hitherto commonly used may be employed; some great lights only will be wanted for every set of tints; for what has been said on colours, and their growing deeper when fixed with wax, penciling system Art. II. page 29, 30. holds equally here; therefore every artist, that may be inclined to make a trial in this manner, will do well to make an essay of all his tints, by preparing a piece of cloth as directed in the foregoing article, and giving a few strokes of each crayon and fixing it, this will immediately shew what new tints will be wanted. In composing any new tint it will be well to leave out fullersearth, pipeclay, chalk, and other calcarious matters13 which are generally used in the common way; the formerto bind the looser colours; the latterto keep up the flakewhite and whitelead, which otherwise would turn black; in encaustic those matters are wanted for none of the above ends; flakewhite and whitelead will not change, and both together will make a body sufficiently connected to bind the lighter tints. All colours used in oil and mentioned in the foregoing list, are good for crayons, and no others. Note. What has been said at the end of the list of colours, that a few more colours, not commonly employed in oil, might be used for crayons, was a mistake of the authors upon his experimental table; there are but two more that may be used for crayons, viz. bice and verditer. The use of the crayons in encaustic is the very same as commonly practised, there is no difference; you must work and paint upon the waxed ground as you do upon the bare paper. Encaustic has the advantage over the common way as to expedition. The fine grittiness procured by the particles of the chalk mixed with the ground you work upon, will file off more colour from the crayon than the grain of the unwaxed paper; and the wax diffused through the ground will retain the colours better; so that when you sweeten your tints with your finger there will be no waste; for in working, the particles of the colour will intrude themselves into the body of the wax, which yields to them; which paper, bare or prepared with a ground tempered with gum or size, does not. ART. III. How to fix the crayons. For fixing the crayons you must act and proceed in every respect, according to the directions given penciling system Art. IV. page 35, 36, c. you may retouch, and apply the dissolved wax on the back, and bring the picture to the fire as often as required. Observations on the system for painting with crayons. For painting with crayons I should prefer cloth prepared according to the first method, without paper, for the same reason I gave for deviating from Count CAYLUSS system, page 48, 49. however, artists may decide for themselves. Besides the two methods mentioned for preparing the cloth, one might paint upon paper pasted upon cloth as directed, without first laying on any wax or preparatory ground; but such paintings would not have that lasting solidity they ought; besides, laying on a ground preparatory and analogous in hue to the subject to be painted, is more expeditious, as such a ground may be made to serve for a half tint, and answers the purpose of dead colouring. Turpentine enters in the paste for one great and principal end, viz. to keep the particles of the paste a little asunder, and facilitate to the wax a free passage through it; for the particles of turpentine diffused through the paste, in melting, when the picture is brought near the fire, open so many equidistant channels for the wax, which, by this means, can penetrate freely and uniformly, and diffuse itself over the whole in equal proportion; without the turpentine it would not succeed so well; the wax would only come through here and there; the colours would in a manner be calcined before a sufficient quantity could penetrate to secure them; for though there will be wax enough for the first fixing, yet, to alter or retouch, or where an extraordinary great body of colours might be employed, there might be a deficiency of wax, which cannot be supplied otherwise than by laying it on, on the back, and if it could not work its passage through the whole might miscarry.14 As few artists compose the crayons themselves, and as inserting directions for that purpose would have swelled this treatise too much; the author, for the conveniency of all practitioners has given the recipe of proportion for composing every tint for what it is to be when fixed, to Mr. Sandys, colourmerchant, in Dirtylane Longacre, of whom perfect sets may be had; and as the author has communicated the recipe, for binding the most difficult colours,15 for the benefit of the art, without fee or reward whatsoever, those crayons will be sold at the usual price. At the above place, may be had cloth or paper ready prepared on short notice. However, if any artist should chuse to prepare the crayons himself, he will do well to leave out the pipeclay, fullersearth, chalk, c. as much as possible, and mix his tints as usual. The standard recommended under Art. II. page 29, 30. and explained page 55, 56. will be of service for ascertaining beforehand the value of each tint. If any crayon prepared for the old way, should prove too hard for this, as may be the case with vermilion, bice, verditer, and the other looser colours, in whose composition enters a little paste to bind them, sprinkle those crayons with a brush dipt in spirit of wine, and they will become manageable. GENERAL REMARKS On the apparent characters of encaustic paintings, on wax and varnish. The principal apparent characters of an encaustic painting are, 1. The colours have all the airiness of water colours, and all the strength of paintings in oil, without partaking of the apparent character, or defects of either. 2. You may look at and enjoy a picture in any light; the colours are bright, fresh and lively without glaring. They require no varnish. 3. The colours are firm, without being brittle, and will bear scratching without receiving any harm. The effect of the colours is the same in both systems, each will have and preserve its peculiar character, as to the manner of painting; if you paint your subject in the light and airy stile of the Carlo Marat school, when the colours will be fixed you will have the high colouring of Rubens. On WAX. It is not material for me to decide which of the two ought to be preferably employed, beeswax simple, or virginwax.For large works that will be exposed to the air, I should prefer the former; artists will see by a few trials which will suit their taste best. On VARNISH. Varnishes are not required, as has already been observed; but as our eyes have been used so much to see colours, not in their natural hue, but disguised by varnish, those that should like to please themselves in this point may use the following method. First lay on with a clean spunge a substantial lay of the white of eggs, and work it well upon the picture. This dry, lay on any varnish commonly used for oil painting, and your picture will look as if painted with oilcolours. This varnish may be taken off at pleasure, the uppermost by rubbing the surface of the picture with a rag dipped in spirit of wine or turpentine, the white of eggs by washing the picture with water. It is not adviseable to lay a varnish of spirits or gums, without first using the white of eggs, as spirit of turpentine is the menstruum of wax. EXPERIMENTS. To adopt and practise in earnest any new system without sufficient trials and proofs of its merit, may be called going wilfully astray.To avoid deceiving myself in the new system before us, I, after having been convinced of its advantageous practicability, set about to ascertain the other great point, the stability of the colours; for this end, and to know more exactly how much every colour would vary from its original hue in a certain space of time, as well in regard to the same system as in opposition to oilcolours, I proceeded as follows. Experiment the first and principal, 1757. I had all the colours used in oil painting, mentioned in the foregoing list, carefully ground with water, at Mr. Sandyss, colourmerchant, and from those colours I composed ninety various and sensibly differing tints, for flesh, drapery and landscape; of each tint I had a quantity of a two ounce gallipot full, tempered with water; so I left them well screened from dust till they were become dry again; then I divided each mass of tint in four equal parts; two of each I set by for the comparative use, the other two parts of each I employed in the following manner. One part of each I tempered again with water, and painted with it over a space of cloth of six inches wide and two inches high, the tints close to each other, in the manner of copperplate, page 58, and the cloth waxed as directed Art. IV. page 26. The same I did with the entire and unmixed colours. The other parts of each tint I tempered with the finest nutoil according to custom, and paintedover with them such another space of six inches by two, as the former, upon oilcloth. The same I did with the entire colours, and set them by to dry; when dry, I brought the encaustic tints near the fire, and by melting the wax fixed them. My tints thus ready, I cut each piece of cloth, encaustic and oiltints, in five equal parts, and disposed of a piece of each in the following manner. 1. One piece of each I exposed in the open air to all the injuries of sun, dew, wind and rain. 2. One piece of each I nailed to a wall in a damp cellarlike room. 3. One piece of each I nailed to the ceiling of a kitchen and near the chimney, where all the year round a fire was kept. 4. One piece of each I nailed to the side of a room I usually inhabited. 5. One piece of each I put between several quires of paper, and confined them in a close drawer deprived of air. Thus I left them, till the latter end of October, 1759, (the space of twentyseven months) when I gathered them. Then I took the two parts of tints I had set by and preserved, and tempering the one with water, and the other with oil, painted the first upon a fresh piece of waxed cloth and fixed them, the other tempered with oil, I painted upon a fresh piece of oilcloth, and after having washed the old tints, on comparing the new and old colours together found as follows. The old encaustic entire colours and tints of number 1. seemed to have suffered a considerable change in opposition to the new ones, but compared to their old fellows in oil they looked bright. I washed them both with common water, and a brush, the encaustic tints recovered a little; oiltints not. I brought the encaustic to the fire, and most tints recovered their original hue, and were equal to the new ones, pinks, yelloworpiment, lake, terra di Siena, and verditer excepted; the first was partly gone, what remained was dull; the second was grown whiter; lake grown lighter, but had not suffered in beauty of colour; terra di Siena crude, grown rough and dirty; verditer, a little dull. No. 3. seemed to have suffered by the smoke; but after washing it with a stout brush, and soap and water, it recovered its original hue, pinks, yelloworpiment, smalt and verditer excepted; the first was sensibly decayed; the second grown darker, inclining towards redorpiment; the third grown dull, but mixed with Prussian blue it was as bright as the new; verditer grown dark and dull. No. 2, 4, 5. were just as the new ones, there was no difference. Oil colours did not stand the test so well; their general appearance in opposition to old and new encaustic,was: No. 1. weak, dull and dim, some entirely gone. No. 2. freckled, of all sorts of hues, not to be washed off. No. 3. darker, some dull, others dirty, some entirely gone. No. 4. considerably yellower, and less bright. No. 5. yellowspotted, as if varnished with gall. The foregoing tints were all fixed with virginwax, which I thought the best; but having at the same time and with the same colours painted upon cloth waxed with common yellow beeswax, I found that the latter in the open air preserved the colours rather better. Experiment the second. I washed the foregoing tints with a strong lixivium of potash, vinegar, spirit of wine, a solution of sea salt, and aqua fortis. By this operation the oilcolours were entirely destroyed, the encaustic suffered nothing, only smalt grew darker; but after scraping it and bringing it again to the fire, it recovered its tone. I have still a little scrap of a picture, a landscape, by me, which has undergone all the abovementioned trials and more, for I took it from the frame and folded it in four, put it upon the frame again, and brought to the fire and the folds disappeared,the colours are as fresh as if painted but yesterday. On examining it close one may perceive it suffered violence, but at a yards distance no marks appear. Experiment on oilcolours. Having perceived that oilcolours, painted upon a waxed ground always appeared brighter upon an oilcloth; I, to come at the knowledge of the cause of this effect, contrived various experiments, but without success; at last I made microscopical observations, and found that oilcolours painted upon an oilcloth undergo a great fermentation, five or six hours after being laid on, and continue so till they are dry. Then they begin to overcast, and by degrees cover the surface with a yellowish, grey substance, not to be washed or rubbed off but with a knife. Among the very same colours painted upon an encaustic ground I could perceive no such fermentation, or overcasting.From this we may conjecture that the priming, or ground we work upon is more the cause of the colours changing than the colours themselves, very likely owing to the desecated saline particles of the oil, which are dissolved by and mix with the new oil and colours; or to the superabundant quantity of salts contained in the ground or priming, which is generally composed of the coarsest oil and colours, and frequently half chalk. Though this latter experiment has nothing to do with encaustic, it will find its application and owner. To prove the stability of encaustic colours, I have mentioned but two experiments; they are sufficient; from them we may draw the following CONCLUSIONS. First, that encaustic colours, having resisted the injuries of the weather better than oilcolours, for the space of twentyseven months, they will prove more lasting than oilcolours for a greater space of time. Secondly, that having resisted the effects of the corrosives, alkali and aqua fortis, c. the circumambient air, howsoever impregnated with saline particles, cannot affect them. Thirdly, that if pictures of this kind receive any hurt, fire will restore them. The most celebrated men of antiquity, celebrated the performances of their painters; if their colours had not been as lasting as their skill was great, some one might have left us regretful instances. They left us none. Was WAX the preserver of their colours? FINIS. ADVERTISEMENT. As the foregoing Treatise is written and published with an intention to communicate a discovery that will prove of infinite advantage to the loveliest of arts, in all its branches; the author, conscious of wanting the necessary qualifications of a writer in a language not natural to him, hopes for indulgence, for all the inaccuracies and improprieties of expression he may and must have fallen into: as to facts, he begs leave to assure the public, that nothing has been advanced but what is strictly true. If any artist or others should in practising be at a loss or stand for any thing, the author shall always be willing and ready to give them farther light on any occasion. The treatise on Practical Painting in general, which was to have been published together with this, as has been intimated to the public in an advertisement of the third of January, will be published as soon as possible; the author being engaged in a work of a very extensive nature, had not time to bring it in perfect order himself; a gentleman and friend of his has been so kind as to undertake the finishing and correcting of it; it will soon be ready for the press. FOOTNOTES: 1 Philosoph. Transact. vol. xlix. part 2. 2 Though the Abb does not quote the passage, one may guess it must be the following the count undertook to explain. Pliny lib. xxxv. chap. 11. Ceris pingere ac picturam inurere quis primus excogitaverit non constat: quidam Aristidis inventum putant, poste consummatum  Praxitele. Sed aliquanto vetustiores Encaustic Pictur exstitere, ut Polignoti  Nicanoris,  Arcesilai Pariorum. Lysippus quoque gin Pictur su inscripsit,  , quod profecto non fecisset nisi encaustica inventa. Which may be told in plain English thus, Who first invented to paint with (or in) wax, and burn in (or fix) the picture with fire, is not certainly known. Some think Aristides invented it, and that Praxiteles brought it to perfection; but there were pictures by masters, of a much older date; such as of Polignote, Nicanor and Arcesilaus, all artists of Paros. Lysippus writ upon his pictures he burnt in, which he would not have done if the encaustic had not been invented then. 3 PLINY is an evidence for this my opinion; for after having said, lib. xxxv. ch. 4. Nicias scripsit se inussisse, he says, tali enim usus est verbo. Which words seem clearly to indite that PLINY thought it equivocal, or contrary to its proper signification. 4 Both pictures were disposed of as soon as finished to a Dutch gentleman, who sent them to Holland as a pattern, and were mightily approved of. 5 Any sort of old cloth, if whole, is as good as new; I prefer the former to the latter for its softness. To ascertain a just proportion of wax to every sort of cloth is unnecessary, if you should either put too much or not enough, you may easily remedy it. See ART. iv. One single trial will clear up the incertitude. 6 Entire colours are the white, red, yellow, blue, c. 7 See the nature of this better explained in the copperplate at the end of observations of Art. 2. 8 I prefer a fire of seacoals because it is much more uniform, and does not emit so many sparks as wood or charcoals, which might injure the picture, though any fire with proper care will answer the end proposed; a German stove is still better than any fire whatsoever. 9 You will easily know those places that shall want wax; they will appear like so many spots of a lighter hue. 10 Any other spirit such as that commonly burnt in lamps, common gin, rum, or genuine brandy, will do just as well; spirit or oil of turpentine is very proper too; but as it smells so very strong, ladies and gentlemen that paint for their amusement only would not like it. 11 The same might be practiced upon cloth, it would do better than only rubbing it with the chalk; but for painting with the pencil the bare cloth is still better. 12 I am aware that every body will not enter into this doctrine at first, and some may think it very odd that a colour which is used in oil, should not sympathise with wax; the question is easily solved, the grinding stones unite oil and pinks, and bring them together by force, but experience shews it is but for a little while; the oil once dry, pinks soon fly off and fade away. 13 Fullersearth, pipeclay, chalk, c. ought to be left out, because they sink so very low when fixed with wax, and impart a great dullness to all those tints wherein they prevail; pipeclay and fullersearth a dusky transparent gray; chalk, a yellowishwhite nocolour. 14 Old crayon pictures may be fixed very well; the paste becoming old looses its cohesion; the wax may freely and uniformly penetrate through; they will want retouching. If any artist has a mind to try, he may do it with some insignificant subject for fear of miscarrying on a first trial. 15 If this treatise should meet with such approbation as to require a second edition, the recipe for the composing of crayons will be inserted at full length. TABLE of CONTENTS. Introductory account of Encaustic Painting page 1 Article the first, preparation of the cloth for painting in encaustic 26 Art. the second, of the colours, and their preparation and use 29 Art. the third, how to paint over or alter any part before the picture has been near the fire 33 Art. the fourth, how to fix the colours 35 Art. the fifth, how to retouch any part after the colours are fixed 40 Observations on Art. the first 41  Count Cayluss method of preparing the cloth 43  Reasons for deviating from the counts method 45  How to paint upon walls 49  How to paint upon wood, stone, c. 50  How to paint upon paper 51 Observations on Art. the second; on grinding the colours 53  How to ascertain the just value of each colour 55 Observations on Art. the third, advantages of Encaustic painting over oil and sizepainting 60 Observations on Art. the fourth, various methods for applying the fire to a picture 63 Observations on Art. the fifth, on retouching after the colours are fixed 67 List of the colours, white 74  Yellows 76  Pinks 82  Reds 84  Terra di Siena and terra verte 88  Blues 91  Blacks 92  Collens earth 94  Umbra 95 Method of painting with and fixing of the crayons 97 Art. the first, first method to prepare the cloth 102  Second method 104 Art. the second, of the crayons; their preparation 107  And use 110 Art. the third, how to fix the crayons 112 Observations on the system for painting with crayons 113 Remarks on the apparent character of encaustic paintings 119  On wax 121  On varnish ibid. Experiments 124  First 125  Second 134 Experiments on oilcolours 135 Conclusions 138 Transcribers Notes Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged. Italics are represented thus italic."
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    "text": "Transcribed by Mark Sherwood, email mark.sherwoodbtinternet.com \"THE LIBRARY\", by GEORGE CRABBE THE ARGUMENT. 1 Books afford Consolation to the troubled Mind by substituting a lighter kind of Distress for its ownThey are productive of other AdvantagesAn Author's Hope of being known in distant times Arrangement of the LibrarySize and Form of the VolumesThe ancient Folio, clasped and chainedFashion prevalent even in this PlaceThe Mode of publishing in Numbers, Pamphlets c.Subjects of the different ClassesDivinityControversyThe Friends of Religion often more dangerous than her FoesSceptical Authors Reason too much rejected by the former Converts; exclusively relied upon by the latterPhilosophy ascending through the Scale of Being to Moral SubjectsBooks of Medicine: their Variety, Variance, and Proneness to System: the Evil of this, and the Difficulty it causesFarewell to this StudyLaw: the increasing Number of its VolumesSupposed happy State of Man without LawsProgress of SocietyHistorians: their SubjectsDramatic Authors, Tragic and ComicAncient RomancesThe Captive HeroineHappiness in the perusal of such Books: whyCriticismApprehensions of the Author: removed by the Appearance of the Genius of the Place; whose Reasoning and Admonition conclude the subject. When the sad soul, by care and grief oppress'd, Looks round the world, but looks in vain for rest; When every object that appears in view Partakes her gloom and seems dejected too; Where shall affliction from itself retire? Where fade away and placidly expire? Alas! we fly to silent scenes in vain; Care blasts the honours of the flow'ry plain: Care veils in clouds the sun's meridian beam, Sighs through the grove, and murmurs in the stream; For when the soul is labouring in despair, In vain the body breathes a purer air: No stormtost sailor sighs for slumbering seas, He dreads the tempest, but invokes the breeze; On the smooth mirror of the deep resides Reflected woe, and o'er unruffled tides The ghost of every former danger glides. Thus, in the calms of life, we only see A steadier image of our misery; But lively gales and gently clouded skies Disperse the sad reflections as they rise; And busy thoughts and little cares avail To ease the mind, when rest and reason fail. When the dull thought, by no designs employ'd, Dwells on the past, or suffer'd or enjoy'd, We bleed anew in every former grief, And joys departed furnish no relief. Not Hope herself, with all her flattering art, Can cure this stubborn sickness of the heart: The soul disdains each comfort she prepares, And anxious searches for congenial cares; Those lenient cares, which with our own combined, By mix'd sensations ease th' afflicted mind, And steal our grief away, and leave their own behind; A lighter grief! which feeling hearts endure Without regret, nor e'en demand a cure. But what strange art, what magic can dispose The troubled mind to change its native woes? Or lead us willing from ourselves, to see Others more wretched, more undone than we? This BOOKS can do;nor this alone; they give New views to life, and teach us how to live; They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise, Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise: Their aid they yield to all: they never shun The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone: Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud, They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd; Nor tell to various people various things, But show to subjects what they show to kings. Come, Child of Care! to make thy soul serene, Approach the treasures of this tranquil scene; Survey the dome, and, as the doors unfold, The soul's best cure, in all her cares, behold! Where mental wealth the poor in thought may find, And mental physic the diseased in mind; See here the balms that passion's wounds assuage; See coolers here, that damp the fire of rage; Here alt'ratives, by slow degrees control The chronic habits of the sickly soul; And round the heart and o'er the aching head, Mild opiates here their sober influence shed. Now bid thy soul man's busy scenes exclude, And view composed this silent multitude: Silent they arebut though deprived of sound, Here all the living languages abound; Here all that live no more; preserved they lie, In tombs that open to the curious eye. Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring ; But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend; 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise. In sweet repose, when Labour's children sleep, When Joy forgets to smile and Care to weep, When Passion slumbers in the lover's breast, And Fear and Guilt partake the balm of rest, Why then denies the studious man to share Man's common good, who feels his common care? Because the hope is his, that bids him fly Night's soft repose, and sleep's mild power defy; That afterages may repeat his praise, And fame's fair meed be his, for length of days. Delightful prospect! when we leave behind A worthy offspring of the fruitful mind! Which, born and nursed through many an anxious day, Shall all our labour, all our care repay. Yet all are not these births of noble kind, Not all the children of a vigorous mind; But where the wisest should alone preside, The weak would rule us, and the blind would guide; Nay, man's best efforts taste of man, and show The poor and troubled source from which they flow; Where most he triumphs we his wants perceive, And for his weakness in his wisdom grieve. But though imperfect all; yet wisdom loves This seat serene, and virtue's self approves: Here come the grieved, a change of thought to find; The curious here to feed a craving mind; Here the devout their peaceful temple choose; And here the poet meets his favouring Muse. With awe, around these silent walks I tread; These are the lasting mansions of the dead: \"The dead!\" methinks a thousand tongues reply; \"These are the tombs of such as cannot die!\" Crown'd with eternal fame, they sit sublime, \"And laugh at all the little strife of time.\" Hail, then, immortals! ye who shine above, Each, in his sphere, the literary Jove; And ye the common people of these skies, A humbler crowd of nameless deities; Whether 'tis yours to lead the willing mind Through History's mazes, and the turnings find; Or, whether led by Science, ye retire, Lost and bewilder'd in the vast desire; Whether the Muse invites you to her bowers, And crowns your placid brows with living flowers; Or godlike Wisdom teaches you to show The noblest road to happiness below; Or men and manners prompt the easy page To mark the flying follies of the age: Whatever good ye boast, that good impart; Inform the head and rectify the heart. Lo, all in silence, all in order stand, And mighty folios first, a lordly band ; Then quartos their wellorder'd ranks maintain, And light octavos fill a spacious plain: See yonder, ranged in more frequented rows, A humbler band of duodecimos; While undistinguish'd trifles swell the scene, The last new play and fritter'd magazine. Thus 'tis in life, where first the proud, the great, In leagued assembly keep their cumbrous state; Heavy and huge, they fill the world with dread, Are much admired, and are but little read: The commons next, a middle rank, are found; Professions fruitful pour their offspring round; Reasoners and wits are next their place allowed, And last, of vulgar tribes a countless crowd. First, let us view the form, the size, the dress; For these the manners, nay the mind, express: That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid; Those ample clasps, of solid metal made; The closepress'd leaves, unclosed for many an age; The dull red edging of the wellfill'd page; On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold; These all a sage and labour'd work proclaim, A painful candidate for lasting fame: No idle wit, no trifling verse can lurk In the deep bosom of that weighty work; No playful thoughts degrade the solemn style, Nor one light sentence claims a transient smile. Hence, in these times, untouch'd the pages lie, And slumber out their immortality: They HAD their day, when, after after all his toil, His morning study, and his midnight oil, At length an author's ONE great work appeared, By patient hope, and length of days, endear'd: Expecting nations hail'd it from the press; Poetic friends prefix'd each kind address; Princes and kings received the pond'rous gift, And ladies read the work they could not lift. Fashion, though Folly's child, and guide of fools, Rules e'en the wisest, and in learning rules; From crowds and courts to \"Wisdom's seat she goes And reigns triumphant o'er her mother's foes. For lo! these fav'rites of the ancient mode Lie all neglected like the Birthday Ode. Ah! needless now this weight of massy chain; 2 Safe in themselves, the onceloved works remain; No readers now invade their still retreat, None try to steal them from their parentseat; Like ancient beauties, they may now discard Chains, bolts, and locks, and lie without a guard. Our patient fathers trifling themes laid by, And roll'd, o'er labour'd works, th' attentive eye: Page after page the muchenduring men Explored the deeps and shallows of the pen: Till, every former note and comment known, They mark'd the spacious margin with their own; Minute corrections proved their studious care; The little index, pointing, told us where; And many an emendation show'd the age Look'd far beyond the rubric titlepage. Our nicer palates lighter labours seek, Cloy'd with a folioNUMBER once a week; Bibles, with cuts and comments, thus go down: E'en light Voltaire is NUMBER'D through the town: Thus physic flies abroad, and thus the law, From men of study, and from men of straw; Abstracts, abridgments, please the fickle times, Pamphlets and plays, and politics and rhymes: But though to write be now a task of ease, The task is hard by manly arts to please, When all our weakness is exposed to view, And half our judges are our rivals too. Amid these works, on which the eager eye Delights to fix, or glides reluctant by, When all combined, their decent pomp display, Where shall we first our early offering pay? To thee, DIVINITY! to thee, the light And guide of mortals, through their mental night; By whom we learn our hopes and fears to guide; To bear with pain, and to contend with pride; When grieved, to pray; when injured, to forgive; And with the world in charity to live. Not truths like these inspired that numerous race, Whose pious labours fill this ample space; But questions nice, where doubt on doubt arose, Awaked to war the longcontending foes. For dubious meanings, learned polemics strove, And wars on faith prevented works of love; The brands of discord far around were hurl'd, And holy wrath inflamed a sinful world: Dull though impatient, peevish though devout, With wit disgusting, and despised without; Saints in design, in execution men, Peace in their looks, and vengeance in their pen. Methinks I see, and sicken at the sight, Spirits of spleen from yonder pile alight; Spirits who prompted every damning page, With pontiff pride and stillincreasing rage: Lo! how they stretch their gloomy wings around, And lash with furious strokes the trembling ground! They pray, they fight, they murder, and they weep, Wolves in their vengeance, in their manners sheep; Too well they act the prophet's fatal part, Denouncing evil with a zealous heart; And each, like Jonah, is displeased if God Repent his anger, or withhold his rod. But here the dormant fury rests unsought, And Zeal sleeps soundly by the foes she fought; Here all the rage of controversy ends, And rival zealots rest like bosomfriends: An Athanasian here, in deep repose, Sleeps with the fiercest of his Arian foes; Socinians here with Calvinists abide, And thin partitions angry chiefs divide; Here wily Jesuits simple Quakers meet, And Bellarmine has rest at Luther's feet. Great authors, for the church's glory fired, Are for the church's peace to rest retired; And close beside, a mystic, maudlin race, Lie \"Crumbs of Comfort for the Babes of Grace.\" Against her foes Religion well defends Her sacred truths, but often fears her friends: If learn'd, their pride, if weak, their zeal she dreads, And their hearts' weakness, who have soundest heads. But most she fears the controversial pen, The holy strife of disputatious men; Who the blest Gospel's peaceful page explore, Only to fight against its precepts more. Near to these seats behold yon slender frames, All closely fill'd and mark'd with modern names; Where no fair science ever shows her face, Few sparks of genius, and no spark of grace; There sceptics rest, a stillincreasing throng, And stretch their widening wings ten thousand strong; Some in close fight their dubious claims maintain; Some skirmish lightly, fly, and fight again; Coldly profane, and impiously gay, Their end the same, though various in their way. When first Religion came to bless the land, Her friends were then a firm believing band; To doubt was then to plunge in guilt extreme, And all was gospel that a monk could dream; Insulted Reason fled the grov'lling soul, For Fear to guide, and visions to control: But now, when Reason has assumed her throne, She, in her turn, demands to reign alone; Rejecting all that lies beyond her view, And, being judge, will be a witness too: Insulted Faith then leaves the doubtful mind, To seek for truth, without a power to find: Ah! when will both in friendly beams unite, And pour on erring man resistless light? Next to the seats, well stored with works divine, An ample space, PHILOSOPHY! is thine; Our reason's guide, by whose assisting light We trace the moral bounds of wrong and right; Our guide through nature, from the sterile clay, To the bright orbs of yon celestial way! 'Tis thine, the great, the golden chain to trace, Which runs through all, connecting race with race; Save where those puzzling, stubborn links remain, Which thy inferior light pursues in vain: How vice and virtue in the soul contend; How widely differ, yet how nearly blend; What various passions war on either part, And now confirm, now melt the yielding heart: How Fancy loves around the world to stray, While Judgment slowly picks his sober way; The stores of memory, and the flights sublime Of genius, bound by neither space nor time;  All these divine Philosophy explores, Till, lost in awe, she wonders and adores. From these, descending to the earth, she turns, And matter, in its various forms, discerns; She parts the beamy light with skill profound, Metes the thin air, and weighs the flying sound; 'Tis hers the lightning from the clouds to call, And teach the fiery mischief where to fall. Yet more her volumes teach,on these we look As abstracts drawn from Nature's larger book: Here, first described, the torpid earth appears, And next, the vegetable robe it wears; Where flow'ry tribes, in valleys, fields, and groves, Nurse the still flame, and feed the silent loves; Loves where no grief, nor joy, nor bliss, nor pain, Warm the glad heart or vex the labouring brain; But as the green blood moves along the blade, The bed of Flora on the branch is made; Where, without passion love instinctive lives, And gives new life, unconscious that it gives. Advancing still in Nature's maze, we trace, In dens and burning plains, her savage race With those tame tribes who on their lord attend, And find in man a master and a friend; Man crowns the scene, a world of wonders new, A moral world, that well demands our view. This world is here; for, of more lofty kind, These neighbouring volumes reason on the mind; They paint the state of man ere yet endued With knowledge;man, poor, ignorant, and rude; Then, as his state improves, their pages swell, And all its cares, and all its comforts, tell: Here we behold how inexperience buys, At little price, the wisdom of the wise; Without the troubles of an active state, Without the cares and dangers of the great, Without the miseries of the poor, we know What wisdom, wealth, and poverty bestow; We see how reason calms the raging mind, And how contending passions urge mankind: Some, won by virtue, glow with sacred fire; Some, lured by vice, indulge the low desire; Whilst others, won by either, now pursue The guilty chase, now keep the good in view; For ever wretched, with themselves at strife, They lead a puzzled, vex'd, uncertain life; For transient vice bequeaths a lingering pain, Which transient virtue seeks to cure in vain. Whilst thus engaged, high views enlarge the soul, New interests draw, new principles control: Nor thus the soul alone resigns her grief, But here the tortured body finds relief; For see where yonder sage Arachne shapes Her subtile gin, that not a fly escapes! There PHYSIC fills the space, and far around, Pile above pile her learned works abound: Glorious their aim to ease the labouring heart; To war with death, and stop his flying dart; To trace the source whence the fierce contest grew, And life's short lease on easier terms renew; To calm the phrensy of the burning brain; To heal the tortures of imploring pain; Or, when more powerful ills all efforts brave, To ease the victim no device can save, And smooth the stormy passage to the grave. But man, who knows no good unmix'd and pure, Oft finds a poison where he sought a cure; For grave deceivers lodge their labours here, And cloud the science they pretend to clear; Scourges for sin, the solemn tribe are sent; Like fire and storms, they call us to repent; But storms subside, and fires forget to rage. THESE are eternal scourges of the age: 'Tis not enough that each terrific hand Spreads desolations round a guilty land; But train'd to ill, and harden'd by its crimes, Their pen relentless kills through future times. Say, ye, who search these records of the dead Who read huge works, to boast what ye have read; Can all the real knowledge ye possess, Or thoseif such there arewho more than guess, Atone for each impostor's wild mistakes, And mend the blunders pride or folly makes ? What thought so wild, what airy dream so light, That will not prompt a theorist to write? What art so prevalent, what proof so strong, That will convince him his attempt is wrong? One in the solids finds each lurking ill, Nor grants the passive fluids power to kill; A learned friend some subtler reason brings, Absolves the channels, but condemns their springs; The subtile nerves, that shun the doctor's eye, Escape no more his subtler theory; The vital heat, that warms the labouring heart, Lends a fair system to these sons of art; The vital air, a pure and subtile stream, Serves a foundation for an airy scheme, Assists the doctor, and supports his dream. Some have their favourite ills, and each disease Is but a younger branch that kills from these; One to the gout contracts all human pain; He views it raging in the frantic brain; Finds it in fevers all his efforts mar, And sees it lurking in the cold catarrh: Bilious by some, by others nervous seen, Rage the fantastic demons of the spleen; And every symptom of the strange disease With every system of the sage agrees. Ye frigid tribe, on whom I wasted long The tedious hours, and ne'er indulged in song; Ye first seducers of my easy heart, Who promised knowledge ye could not impart; Ye dull deluders, truth's destructive foes; Ye sons of fiction, clad in stupid prose; Ye treacherous leaders, who, yourselves in doubt, Light up false fires, and send us far about; Still may yon spider round your pages spin, Subtile and slow, her emblematic gin! Buried in dust and lost in silence, dwell, Most potent, grave, and reverend friendsfarewell! Near these, and where the setting sun displays, Through the dim window, his departing rays, And gilds yon columns, there, on either side, The huge Abridgments of the LAW abide; Fruitful as vice the dread correctors stand, And spread their guardian terrors round the land; Yet, as the best that human care can do Is mix'd with error, oft with evil too, Skill'd in deceit, and practised to evade, Knaves stand secure, for whom these laws were made, And justice vainly each expedient tries, While art eludes it, or while power defies. \"Ah! happy age,\" the youthful poet sings, \"When the free nations knew not laws nor kings, When all were blest to share a common store, And none were proud of wealth, for none were poor, No wars nor tumults vex'd each still domain, No thirst of empire, no desire of gain; No proud great man, nor one who would be great, Drove modest merit from its proper state; Nor into distant climes would Avarice roam, To fetch delights for Luxury at home: Bound by no ties which kept the soul in awe, They dwelt at liberty, and love was law!\" \"Mistaken youth! each nation first was rude, Each man a cheerless son of solitude, To whom no joys of social life were known, None felt a care that was not all his own; Or in some languid clime his abject soul Bow'd to a little tyrant's stern control; A slave, with slaves his monarch's throne he raised, And in rude song his ruder idol praised; The meaner cares of life were all he knew; Bounded his pleasures, and his wishes few; But when by slow degrees the Arts arose, And Science waken'd from her long repose; When Commerce, rising from the bed of ease, Ran round the land, and pointed to the seas; When Emulation, born with jealous eye, And Avarice, lent their spurs to industry; Then one by one the numerous laws were made, Those to control, and these to succour trade; To curb the insolence of rude command, To snatch the victim from the usurer's hand; To awe the bold, to yield the wrong'd redress, And feed the poor with Luxury's excess.\" 3 Like some vast flood, unbounded, fierce, and strong, His nature leads ungovern'd man along; Like mighty bulwarks made to stem that tide, The laws are form'd, and placed on ev'ry side; Whene'er it breaks the bounds by these decreed, New statutes rise, and stronger laws succeed; More and more gentle grows the dying stream, More and more strong the rising bulwarks seem; Till, like a miner working sure and slow, Luxury creeps on, and ruins all below; The basis sinks, the ample piles decay; The stately fabric, shakes and falls away; Primeval want and ignorance come on, But Freedom, that exalts the savage state, is gone. Next, HISTORY ranks;there full in front she lies, And every nation her dread tale supplies; Yet History has her doubts, and every age With sceptic queries marks the passing page; Records of old nor later date are clear, Too distant those, and these are placed too near; There time conceals the objects from our view, Here our own passions and a writer's too: Yet, in these volumes, see how states arose! Guarded by virtue from surrounding foes; Their virtue lost, and of their triumphs vain, Lo! how they sunk to slavery again! Satiate with power, of fame and wealth possess'd, A nation grows too glorious to be blest; Conspicuous made, she stands the mark of all, And foes join foes to triumph in her fall. Thus speaks the page that paints ambition's race, The monarch's pride, his glory, his disgrace; The headlong course, that madd'ning heroes run, How soon triumphant, and how soon undone; How slaves, turn'd tyrants, offer crowns to sale, And each fall'n nation's melancholy tale. Lo! where of late the Book of Martyrs stood, Old pious tracts, and Bibles bound in wood; There, such the taste of our degenerate age, Stand the profane delusions of the STAGE: Yet virtue owns the TRAGIC MUSE a friend, Fable her means, morality her end; For this she rules all passions in their turns, And now the bosom bleeds, and now it burns; Pity with weeping eye surveys her bowl, Her anger swells, her terror chills the soul; She makes the vile to virtue yield applause, And own her sceptre while they break her laws; For vice in others is abhorr'd of all, And villains triumph when the worthless fall. Not thus her sister COMEDY prevails, Who shoots at Folly, for her arrow fails; Folly, by Dulness arm'd, eludes the wound, And harmless sees the feather'd shafts rebound; Unhurt she stands, applauds the archer's skill, Laughs at her malice, and is Folly still. Yet well the Muse portrays, in fancied scenes, What pride will stoop to, what profession means; How formal fools the farce of state applaud; How caution watches at the lips of fraud; The wordy variance of domestic life; The tyrant husband, the retorting wife; The snares for innocence, the lie of trade, And the smooth tongue's habitual masquerade. With her the Virtues too obtain a place, Each gentle passion, each becoming grace; The social joy in life's securer road, Its easy pleasure, its substantial good; The happy thought that conscious virtue gives, And all that ought to live, and all that lives. But who are these? Methinks a noble mien And awful grandeur in their form are seen, Now in disgrace: what though by time is spread Polluting dust o'er every reverend head; What though beneath yon gilded tribe they lie, And dull observers pass insulting by: Forbid it shame, forbid it decent awe, What seems so grave, should no attention draw! Come, let us then with reverend step advance, And greetthe ancient worthies of ROMANCE. Hence, ye profane! I feel a former dread, A thousand visions float around my head: Hark! hollow blasts through empty courts resound, And shadowy forms with staring eyes stalk round; See! moats and bridges, walls and castles rise, Ghosts, fairies, demons, dance before our eyes; Lo! magic verse inscribed on golden gate, And bloody hand that beckons on to fate: \"And who art thou, thou little page, unfold? Say, doth thy lord my Claribel withhold? Go tell him straight, Sir Knight, thou must resign The captive queen;for Claribel is mine.\" Away he flies; and now for bloody deeds, Black suits of armour, masks, and foaming steeds; The giant falls; his recreant throat I seize, And from his corslet take the massy keys: Dukes, lords, and knights, in long procession move, Released from bondage with my virgin love: She comes! she comes! in all the charms of youth, Unequall'd love, and unsuspected truth! Ah! happy he who thus, in magic themes, O'er worlds bewitch'd, in early rapture dreams, Where wild Enchantment waves her potent wand, And Fancy's beauties fill her fairy land; Where doubtful objects strange desires excite, And Fear and Ignorance afford delight. But lost, for ever lost, to me these joys, Which Reason scatters, and which Time destroys; Too dearly bought: maturer judgment calls My busied mind from tales and madrigals; My doughty giants all are slain or fled, And all my knigntsblue, green, and yellowdead! No more the midnight fairy tribe I view, All in the merry moonshine tippling dew; E'en the last lingering fiction of the brain, The churchyard ghost, is now at rest again; And all these wayward wanderings of my youth Fly Reason's power, and shun the light of Truth. With Fiction then does real joy reside, And is our reason the delusive guide? Is it then right to dream the syrens sing? Or mount enraptured on the dragon's wing? No; 'tis the infant mind, to care unknown, That makes th' imagined paradise its own; Soon as reflections in the bosom rise, Light slumbers vanish from the clouded eyes: The tear and smile, that once together rose, Are then divorced; the head and heart are foes: Enchantment bows to Wisdom's serious plan, And Pain and Prudence make and mar the man. While thus, of power and fancied empire vain, With various thoughts my mind I entertain; While books, my slaves, with tyrant hand I seize, Pleased with the pride that will not let them please, Sudden I find terrific thoughts arise, And sympathetic sorrow fills my eyes; For, lo! while yet my heart admits the wound, I see the CRITIC army ranged around. Foes to our race! if ever ye have known A father's fears for offspring of your own; If ever, smiling o'er a lucky line, Ye thought the sudden sentiment divine, Then paused and doubted, and then, tired of doubt, With rage as sudden dash'd the stanza out; If, after fearing much and pausing long, Ye ventured on the world your labour'd song, And from the crusty critics of those days Implored the feeble tribute of their praise; Remember now the fears that moved you then, And, spite of truth, let mercy guide your pen. What vent'rous race are ours! what mighty foes Lie waiting all around them to oppose! What treacherous friends betray them to the fight! What dangers threaten themyet still they write: A hapless tribe! to every evil born, Whom villains hate, and fools affect to scorn: Strangers they come, amid a world of woe, And taste the largest portion ere they go. Pensive I spoke, and cast mine eyes around; The roof, methought, return'd a solemn sound; Each column seem'd to shake, and clouds, like smoke, From dusty piles and ancient volumes broke; Gathering above, like mists condensed they seem, Exhaled in summer from the rushy stream; Like flowing robes they now appear, and twine Round the large members of a form divine; His silver beard, that swept his aged breast, His piercing eye, that inward light express'd, Were seen,but clouds and darkness veil'd the rest. Fear chill'd my heart: to one of mortal race, How awful seem'd the Genius of the place! So in Cimmerian shores, Ulysses saw His parentshade, and shrunk in pious awe; Like him I stood, and wrapt in thought profound, When from the pitying power broke forth a solemn sound: \"Care lives with all; no rules, no precepts save The wise from woe, no fortitude the brave; Grief is to man as certain as the grave: Tempests and storms in life's whole progress rise, And hope shines dimly through o'erclouded skies. Some drops of comfort on the favour'd fall, But showers of sorrow are the lot of ALL: Partial to talents, then, shall Heav'n withdraw Th' afflicting rod, or break the general law? Shall he who soars, inspired by loftier views, Life's little cares and little pains refuse? Shall he not rather feel a double share Of mortal woe, when doubly arm'd to bear? \"Hard is his fate who builds his peace of mind On the precarious mercy of mankind; Who hopes for wild and visionary things, And mounts o'er unknown seas with vent'rous wings; But as, of various evils that befall The human race, some portion goes to all; To him perhaps the milder lot's assigned Who feels his consolation in his mind, And, lock'd within his bosom, bears about A mental charm for every care without. E'en in the pangs of each domestic grief, Or health or vigorous hope affords relief; And every wound the tortured bosom feels, Or virtue bears, or some preserver heals; Some generous friend of ample power possess'd; Some feeling heart, that bleeds for the distress'd; Some breast that glows with virtues all divine; Some noble RUTLAND, misery's friend and thine. \"Nor say, the Muse's song, the Poet's pen, Merit the scorn they meet from little men. With cautious freedom if the numbers flow, Not wildly high, nor pitifully low; If vice alone their honest aims oppose, Why so ashamed their friends, so loud their foes? Happy for men in every age and clime, If all the sons of vision dealt in rhyme. Go on, then, Son of Vision! still pursue Thy airy dreams; the world is dreaming too. Ambition's lofty views, the pomp of state, The pride of wealth, the splendour of the great, Stripp'd of their mask, their cares and troubles known, Are visions far less happy than thy own: Go on! and, while the sons of care complain, Be wisely gay and innocently vain; While serious souls are by their fears undone, Blow sportive bladders in the beamy sun, And call them worlds! and bid the greatest show More radiant colours in their worlds below: Then, as they break, the slaves of care reprove, And tell them, Such are all the toys they love.\" Footnotes: 1 Indentation and punctuation as original. 2 In ancient libraries, works of value and importance were fastened to their places by a length of chain; and might so be perused, but not taken away. 3 See Blackstone's Commentaries, i. 131, 359; iv. 432. THE ROBBERS. By Frederich Schiller SCHILLER'S PREFACE. AS PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF THE ROBBERS PUBLISHED IN 1781. Now first translated into English. This play is to be regarded merely as a dramatic narrative in which, for the purpose of tracing out the innermost workings of the soul, advantage has been taken of the dramatic method, without otherwise conforming to the stringent rules of theatrical composition, or seeking the dubious advantage of stage adaptation. It must be admitted as somewhat inconsistent that three very remarkable people, whose acts are dependent on perhaps a thousand contingencies, should be completely developed within three hours, considering that it would scarcely be possible, in the ordinary course of events, that three such remarkable people should, even in twentyfour hours, fully reveal their characters to the most penetrating inquirer. A greater amount of incident is here crowded together than it was possible for me to confine within the narrow limits prescribed by Aristotle and Batteux. It is, however, not so much the bulk of my play as its contents which banish it from the stage. Its scheme and economy require that several characters should appear who would offend the finer feelings of virtue and shock the delicacy of our manners. Every delineator of human character is placed in the same dilemma if he proposes to give a faithful picture of the world as it really is, and not an ideal phantasy, a mere creation of his own. It is the course of mortal things that the good should be shadowed by the bad, and virtue shine the brightest when contrasted with vice. Whoever proposes to discourage vice and to vindicate religion, morality, and social order against their enemies, must unveil crime in all its deformity, and place it before the eyes of men in its colossal magnitude; he must diligently explore its dark mazes, and make himself familiar with sentiments at the wickedness of which his soul revolts. Vice is here exposed in its innermost workings. In Francis it resolves all the confused terrors of conscience into wild abstractions, destroys virtuous sentiments by dissecting them, and holds up the earnest voice of religion to mockery and scorn. He who has gone so far (a distinction by no means enviable) as to quicken his understanding at the expense of his soulto him the holiest things are no longer holy; to him God and man are alike indifferent, and both worlds are as nothing. Of such a monster I have endeavored to sketch a striking and lifelike portrait, to hold up to abhorrence all the machinery of his scheme of vice, and to test its strength by contrasting it with truth. How far my narrative is successful in accomplishing these objects the reader is left to judge. My conviction is that I have painted nature to the life. Next to this man (Francis) stands another who would perhaps puzzle not a few of my readers. A mind for which the greatest crimes have only charms through the glory which attaches to them, the energy which their perpetration requires, and the dangers which attend them. A remarkable and important personage, abundantly endowed with the power of becoming either a Brutus or a Catiline, according as that power is directed. An unhappy conjunction of circumstances determines him to choose the latter for, his example, and it is only after a fearful straying that he is recalled to emulate the former. Erroneous notions of activity and power, an exuberance of strength which bursts through all the barriers of law, must of necessity conflict with the rules of social life. To these enthusiast dreams of greatness and efficiency it needed but a sarcastic bitterness against the unpoetic spirit of the age to complete the strange Don Quixote whom, in the Robber Moor, we at once detest and love, admire and pity. It is, I hope, unnecessary to remark that I no more hold up this picture as a warning exclusively to robbers than the greatest Spanish satire was levelled exclusively at knighterrants. It is nowadays so much the fashion to be witty at the expense of religion that a man will hardly pass for a genius if he does not allow his impious satire to run a tilt at its most sacred truths. The noble simplicity of holy writ must needs be abused and turned into ridicule at the daily assemblies of the socalled wits; for what is there so holy and serious that will not raise a laugh if a false sense be attached to it? Let me hope that I shall have rendered no inconsiderable service to the cause of true religion and morality in holding up these wanton misbelievers to the detestation of society, under the form of the most despicable robbers. But still more. I have made these said immoral characters to stand out favorably in particular points, and even in some measure to compensate by qualities of the head for what they are deficient in those of the heart. Herein I have done no more than literally copy nature. Every man, even the most depraved, bears in some degree the impress of the Almighty's image, and perhaps the greatest villain is not farther removed from the most upright man than the petty offender; for the moral forces keep even pace with the powers of the mind, and the greater the capacity bestowed on man, the greater and more enormous becomes his misapplication of it; the more responsible is he for his errors. The \"Adramelech\" of Klopstock (in his Messiah) awakens in us a feeling in which admiration is blended with detestation. We follow Milton's Satan with shuddering wonder through the pathless realms of chaos. The Medea of the old dramatists is, in spite of all her crimes, a great and wondrous woman, and Shakespeare's Richard III. is sure to excite the admiration of the reader, much as he would hate the reality. If it is to be my task to portray men as they are, I must at the same time include their good qualities, of which even the most vicious are never totally destitute. If I would warn mankind against the tiger, I must not omit to describe his glossy, beautifullymarked skin, lest, owing to this omission, the ferocious animal should not be recognized till too late. Besides this, a man who is so utterly depraved as to be without a single redeeming point is no meet subject for art, and would disgust rather than excite the interest of the reader; who would turn over with impatience the pages which concern him. A noble soul can no more endure a succession of moral discords than the musical ear the grating of knives upon glass. And for this reason I should have been illadvised in attempting to bring my drama on the stage. A certain strength of mind is required both on the part of the poet and the reader; in the former that he may not disguise vice, in the latter that he may not suffer brilliant qualities to beguile him into admiration of what is essentially detestable. Whether the author has fulfilled his duty he leaves others to judge, that his readers will perform theirs he by no means feels assured. The vulgaramong whom I would not be understood to mean merely the rabblethe vulgar I say (between ourselves) extend their influence far around, and unfortunatelyset the fashion. Too shortsighted to reach my full meaning, too narrowminded to comprehend the largeness of my views, too disingenuous to admit my moral aimthey will, I fear, almost frustrate my good intentions, and pretend to discover in my work an apology for the very vice which it has been my object to condemn, and will perhaps make the poor poet, to whom anything rather than justice is usually accorded, responsible for his simplicity. Thus we have a Da capo of the old story of Democritus and the Abderitans, and our worthy Hippocrates would needs exhaust whole plantations of hellebore, were it proposed to remedy this mischief by a healing decoction. This alludes to the fable amusingly recorded by Wieland in his Geschichte der Abderiten. The Abderitans, who were a byword among the ancients for their extreme simplicity, are said to have sent express for Hipocrates to cure their great townsman Democritus, whom they believed to be out of his senses, because his sayings were beyond their comprehension. Hippocrates, on conversing with Democritus, having at once discovered that the cause lay with themselves, assembled the senate and principal inhabitants in the marketplace with the promise of instructing them in the cure of Democritus. He then banteringly advised them to import six shiploads of hellebore of the very best quality, and on its arrival to distribute it among the citizens, at least seven pounds per head, but to the senators double that quantity, as they were bound to have an extra supply of sense. By the time these worthies discovered that they had been laughed at, Hippocrates was out of their reach. The story in Wieland is infinitely more amusing than this short quotation from memory enables me to show. H. G. B. Let as many friends of truth as you will, instruct their fellowcitizens in the pulpit and on the stage, the vulgar will never cease to be vulgar, though the sun and moon may change their course, and \"heaven and earth wax old as a garment.\" Perhaps, in order to please tenderhearted people, I might have been less true to nature; but if a certain beetle, of whom we have all heard, could extract filth even from pearls, if we have examples that fire has destroyed and water deluged, shall therefore pearls, fire, and water be condemned. In consequence of the remarkable catastrophe which ends my play, I may justly claim for it a place among books of morality, for crime meets at last with the punishment it deserves; the lost one enters again within the pale of the law, and virtue is triumphant. Whoever will but be courteous enough towards me to read my work through with a desire to understand it, from him I may expectnot that he will admire the poet, but that he will esteem the honest man. SCHILLER. EASTER FAIR, 1781. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE ROBBERS. AS COMMUNICATED BY SCHILLER TO DALBERG IN 1781, AND SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN USED AS A PROLOGUE. This has never before been printed with any of the editions. The picture of a great, misguided soul, endowed with every gift of excellence; yet lost in spite of all its gifts! Unbridled passions and bad companionship corrupt his heart, urge him on from crime to crime, until at last he stands at the head of a band of murderers, heaps horror upon horror, and plunges from precipice to precipice into the lowest depths of despair. Great and majestic in misfortune, by misfortune reclaimed, and led back to the paths of virtue. Such a man shall you pity and hate, abhor yet love, in the Robber Moor. You will likewise see a juggling, fiendish knave unmasked and blown to atoms in his own mines; a fond, weak, and overindulgent father; the sorrows of too enthusiastic love, and the tortures of ungoverned passion. Here, too, you will witness, not without a shudder, the interior economy of vice; and from the stage be taught how all the tinsel of fortune fails to smother the inward worm; and how terror, anguish, remorse, and despair tread close on the footsteps of guilt. Let the spectator weep today at our exhibition, and tremble, and learn to bend his passions to the laws of religion and reason; let the youth behold with alarm the consequences of unbridled excess; nor let the man depart without imbibing the lesson that the invisible hand of Providence makes even villains the instruments of its designs and judgments, and can marvellously unravel the most intricate perplexities of fate. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. The eight hundred copies of the first edition of my ROBBERS were exhausted before all the admirers of the piece were supplied. A second was therefore undertaken, which has been improved by greater care in printing, and by the omission of those equivocal sentences which were offensive to the more fastidious part of the public. Such an alteration, however, in the construction of the play as should satisfy all the wishes of my friends and critics has not been my object. In this second edition the several songs have been arranged for the pianoforte, which will enhance its value to the musical part of the public. I am indebted for this to an able composer, who has performed his task in so masterly a manner that the hearer is not unlikely to forget the poet in the melody of the musician. DR. SCHILLER. STUTTGART, Jan. 5, 1782.  Alluding to his friend Zumsteeg.ED. THE ROBBERS. A TRAGEDY. \"Quae medicamenta non sanant, ferrum sanat; quae ferrum non sanat, ignis sanat.\"HIPPOCRATES. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. MAXIMILIAN, COUNT VON MOOR. CHARLES, FRANCIS, his Sons. AMELIA VON EDELREICH, his Niece. SPIEGELBERG, SCHWEITZER,  GRIMM,  RAZMANN,  Libertines, afterwards Banditti SCHUFTERLE,  ROLLER,  KOSINSKY,  SCHWARTZ,  HERMANN, the natural son of a Nobleman. DANIEL, an old Servant of Count von Moor. PASTOR MOSER. FATHER DOMINIC, a Monk. BAND OF ROBBERS, SERVANTS, ETC. The scene is laid in Germany. Period of action about two years. THE ROBBERS ACT I. SCENE I.Franconia. Apartment in the Castle of COUNT MOOR. FRANCIS, OLD MOOR. FRANCIS. But are you really well, father? You look so pale. OLD MOOR. Quite well, my sonwhat have you to tell me? FRANCIS. The post is arriveda letter from our correspondent at Leipsic. OLD M. (eagerly). Any tidings of my son Charles? FRANCIS. Hem! Hem!Why, yes. But I fearI know notwhether I dare your health.Are you really quite well, father? OLD M. As a fish in water. Does he write of my son? What means this anxiety about my health? You have asked me that question twice. This is equivalent to our English saying \"As sound as a roach.\" FRANCIS. If you are unwellor are the least apprehensive of being so permit me to deferI will speak to you at a fitter season.(Half aside.) These are no tidings for a feeble frame. OLD M. Gracious Heavens? what am I doomed to hear? FRANCIS. First let me retire and shed a tear of compassion for my lost brother. Would that my lips might be forever sealedfor he is your son! Would that I could throw an eternal veil over his shamefor he is my brother! But to obey you is my first, though painful, dutyforgive me, therefore. OLD M. Oh, Charles! Charles! Didst thou but know what thorns thou plantest in thy father's bosom! That one gladdening report of thee would add ten years to my life! yes, bring back my youth! whilst now, alas, each fresh intelligence but hurries me a step nearer to the grave! FRANCIS. Is it so, old man, then farewell! for even this very day we might all have to tear our hair over your coffin.  This idiom is very common in Germany, and is used to express affliction. OLD M. Stay! There remains but one short step morelet him have his will! (He sits down.) The sins of the father shall be visited unto the third and fourth generationlet him fulfil the decree. FRANCIS (takes the letter out of his pocket). You know our correspondent! See! I would give a finger of my right hand might I pronounce him a liara base and slanderous liar! Compose yourself! Forgive me if I do not let you read the letter yourself. You cannot, must not, yet know all. OLD M. All, all, my son. You will but spare me crutches.  Du ersparst mir die Krucke; meaning that the contents of the letter can but shorten his declining years, and so spare him the necessity of crutches. FRANCIS (reads). \"Leipsic, May 1. Were I not bound by an inviolable promise to conceal nothing from you, not even the smallest particular, that I am able to collect, respecting your brother's career, never, my dearest friend, should my guiltless pen become an instrument of torture to you. I can gather from a hundred of your letters how tidings such as these must pierce your fraternal heart. It seems to me as though I saw thee, for the sake of this worthless, this detestable\"(OLD M. covers his face). Oh! my father, I am only reading you the mildest passages \"this detestable man, shedding a thousand tears.\" Alas! mine floweday, gushed in torrents over these pitying cheeks. \"I already picture to myself your aged pious father, pale as death.\" Good Heavens! and so you are, before you have heard anything. OLD M. Go on! Go on! FRANCIS. \"Pale as death, sinking down on his chair, and cursing the day when his ear was first greeted with the lisping cry of 'Father!' I have not yet been able to discover all, and of the little I do know I dare tell you only a part. Your brother now seems to have filled up the measure of his infamy. I, at least, can imagine nothing beyond what he has already accomplished; but possibly his genius may soar above my conceptions. After having contracted debts to the amount of forty thousand ducats, \"a good round sum for pocketmoney, father\" and having dishonored the daughter of a rich banker, whose affianced lover, a gallant youth of rank, he mortally wounded in a duel, he yesterday, in the dead of night, took the desperate resolution of absconding from the arm of justice, with seven companions whom he had corrupted to his own vicious courses.\" Father? for heaven's sake, father! How do you feel? OLD M. Enough. No more, my son, no more! FRANCIS. I will spare your feelings. \"The injured cry aloud for satisfaction. Warrants have been issued for his apprehensiona price is set on his headthe name of Moor\"No, these unhappy lips shall not be guilty of a father's murder (he tears the letter). Believe it not, my father, believe not a syllable. OLD M. (weeps bitterly). My namemy unsullied name! FRANCIS (throws himself on his neck). Infamous! most infamous Charles! Oh, had I not my forebodings, when, even as a boy, he would scamper after the girls, and ramble about over hill and common with ragamuffin boys and all the vilest rabble; when he shunned the very sight of a church as a malefactor shuns a gaol, and would throw the pence he had wrung from your bounty into the hat of the first beggar he met, whilst we at home were edifying ourselves with devout prayers and pious homilies? Had I not my misgivings when he gave himself up to reading the adventures of Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, and other benighted heathens, in preference to the history of the penitent Tobias? A hundred times over have I warned youfor my brotherly affection was ever kept in subjection to filial dutythat this forward youth would one day bring sorrow and disgrace on us all. Oh that he bore not the name of Moor! that my heart beat less warmly for him! This sinful affection, which I can not overcome, will one day rise up against me before the judgmentseat of heaven. OLD M. Oh! my prospects! my golden dreams! FRANCIS. Ay, well I knew it. Exactly what I always feared. That fiery spirit, you used to say, which is kindling in the boy, and renders him so susceptible to impressions of the beautiful and grandthe ingenuousness which reveals his whole soul in his eyesthe tenderness of feeling which melts him into weeping sympathy at every tale of sorrowthe manly courage which impels him to the summit of giant oaks, and urges him over fosse and palisade and foaming torrentsthat youthful thirst of honorthat unconquerable resolutionall those resplendent virtues which in the father's darling gave such promise would ripen into the warm and sincere friendthe excellent citizenthe herothe great, the very great man! Now, mark the result, father; the fiery spirit has developed itselfexpandedand behold its precious fruits. Observe this ingenuousnesshow nicely it has changed into effrontery;this tenderness of soulhow it displays itself in dalliance with coquettes, in susceptibility to the blandishments of a courtesan! See this fiery genius, how in six short years it hath burnt out the oil of life, and reduced his body to a living skeleton; so that passing scoffers point at him with a sneer and exclaim\"C'est l'amour qui a fait cela.\" Behold this bold, enterprising spirithow it conceives and executes plans, compared to which the deeds of a Cartouche or a Howard sink into insignificance. And presently, when these precious germs of excellence shall ripen into full maturity, what may not be expected from the full development of such a boyhood? Perhaps, father, you may yet live to see him at the head of some gallant band, which assembles in the silent sanctuary of the forest, and kindly relieves the weary traveller of his superfluous burden. Perhaps you may yet have the opportunity, before you go to your own tomb, of making a pilgrimage to the monument which he may erect for himself, somewhere between earth and heaven! Perhaps,oh, fatherfather, look out for some other name, or the very peddlers and street boys who have seen the effigy of your worthy son exhibited in the marketplace at Leipsic will point at you with the finger of scorn! OLD M. And thou, too, my Francis, thou too? Oh, my children, how unerringly your shafts are levelled at my heart. FRANCIS. You see that I too have a spirit; but my spirit bears the sting of a scorpion. And then it was \"the dry commonplace, the cold, the wooden Francis,\" and all the pretty little epithets which the contrast between us suggested to your fatherly affection, when he was sitting on your knee, or playfully patting your cheeks? \"He would die, forsooth, within the boundaries of his own domain, moulder away, and soon be forgotten;\" while the fame of this universal genius would spread from pole to pole! Ah! the cold, dull, wooden Francis thanks thee, heaven, with uplifted hands, that he bears no resemblance to his brother. OLD M. Forgive me, my child! Reproach not thy unhappy father, whose fondest hopes have proved visionary. The merciful God who, through Charles, has sent these tears, will, through thee, my Francis, wipe them from my eyes! FRANCIS. Yes, father, we will wipe them from your eyes. Your Francis will devotehis life to prolong yours. (Taking his hand with affected tenderness.) Your life is the oracle which I will especially consult on every undertakingthe mirror in which I will contemplate everything. No duty so sacred but I am ready to violate it for the preservation of your precious days. You believe me? OLD M. Great are the duties which devolve on thee, my sonHeaven bless thee for what thou has been, and wilt be to me. FRANCIS. Now tell me frankly, father. Should you not be a happy man, were you not obliged to call this son your own? OLD M. In mercy, spare me! When the nurse first placed him in my arms, I held him up to Heaven and exclaimed, \"Am I not truly blest?\" FRANCIS. So you said then. Now, have you found it so? You may envy the meanest peasant on your estate in this, that he is not the father of such a son. So long as you call him yours you are wretched. Your misery will grow with his yearsit will lay you in your grave. OLD M. Oh! he has already reduced me to the decrepitude of fourscore. FRANCIS. Well, thensuppose you were to disown this son. OLD M. (startled). Francis! Francis! what hast thou said! FRANCIS. Is not your love for him the source of all your grief? Root out this love, and he concerns you no longer. But for this weak and reprehensible affection he would be dead to you;as though he had never been born. It is not flesh and blood, it is the heart that makes us sons and fathers! Love him no more, and this monster ceases to be your son, though he were cut out of your flesh. He has till now been the apple of your eye; but if thine eye offend you, says Scripture, pluck it out. It is better to enter heaven with one eye than hell with two! \"It is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.\" These are the words of the Bible! OLD M. Wouldst thou have me curse my son? FRANCIS. By no means, father. God forbid! But whom do you call your son? Him to whom you have given life, and who in return does his utmost to shorten yours. OLD M. Oh, it is all too true! it is a judgment upon me. The Lord has chosen him as his instrument. FRANCIS. See how filially your bosom child behaves. He destroys you by your own excess of paternal sympathy; murders you by means of the very love you bear himhas coiled round a father's heart to crush it. When you are laid beneath the turf he becomes lord of your possessions, and master of his own will. That barrier removed, and the torrent of his profligacy will rush on without control. Imagine yourself in his place. How often he must wish his father under groundand how often, too, his brotherwho so unmercifully impede the free course of his excesses. But call you this a requital of love? Is this filial gratitude for a father's tenderness? to sacrifice ten years of your life to the lewd pleasures of an hour? in one voluptuous moment to stake the honor of an ancestry which has stood unspotted through seven centuries? Do you call this a son? Answer? Do you call this your son? OLD M. An undutiful son! Alas! but still my child! my child! FRANCIS. A most amiable and precious childwhose constant study is to get rid of his father. Oh, that you could learn to see clearly! that the film might be removed from your eyes! But your indulgence must confirm him in his vices! your assistance tend to justify them. Doubtless you will avert the curse of Heaven from his head, but on your own, fatheron yourswill it fall with twofold vengeance. OLD M. Just! most just! Mine, mine be all the guilt! FRANCIS. How many thousands who have drained the voluptuous bowl of pleasure to the dregs have been reclaimed by suffering! And is not the bodily pain which follows every excess a manifest declaration of the divine will! And shall man dare to thwart this by an impious exercise of affection? Shall a father ruin forever the pledge committed to his charge? Consider, father, if you abandon him for a time to the pressure of want will not he be obliged to turn from his wickedness and repent? Otherwise, untaught even in the great school of adversity, he must remain a confirmed reprobate? And thenwoe to the father who by a culpable tenderness bath frustrated the ordinances of a higher wisdom! Well, father? OLD M. I will write to him that I withdraw my protection. FRANCIS. That would be wise and prudent. OLD M. That he must never come into my sight again FRANCIS. 'Twill have a most salutary effect. OLD M. (tenderly). Until he reforms. FRANCIS. Right, quite right. But suppose that he comes disguised in the hypocrite's mask, implores your compassion with tears, and wheedles from you a pardon, then quits you again on the morrow, and jests at your weakness in the arms of his harlot. No, my father! He will return of his own accord, when his conscience awakens him to repentance. OLD M. I will write to him, on the spot, to that effect. FRANCIS. Stop, father, one word more. Your just indignation might prompt reproaches too severe, words which might break his heartand thendo you not think that your deigning to write with your own hand might be construed into an act of forgiveness? It would be better, I think, that you should commit the task to me? OLD M. Do it, my son. Ah! it would, indeed, have broken my heart! Write to him that FRANCIS (quickly). That's agreed, then? OLD M. Say that he has caused me a thousand bitter tearsa thousand sleepless nightsbut, oh! do not drive my son to despair! FRANCIS. Had you not better retire to rest, father? This affects you too strongly. OLD M. Write to him that a father's heartBut I charge you, drive him not to despair. Exit in sadness. FRANCIS (looking after him with a chuckle). Make thyself easy, old dotard! thou wilt never more press thy darling to thy bosomthere is a gulf between thee and him impassable as heaven is from hell. He was torn from thy arms before even thou couldst have dreamed it possible to decree the separation. Why, what a sorry bungler should I be had I not skill enough to pluck a son from a father's heart; ay, though he were riveted there with hooks of steel! I have drawn around thee a magic circle of curses which he cannot overleap. Good speed to thee, Master Francis. Papa's darling is disposed ofthe course is clear. I must carefully pick up all the scraps of paper, for how easily might my handwriting be recognized. (He gathers the fragments of the letter.) And grief will soon make an end of the old gentleman. And as for her I must tear this Charles from her heart, though half her life come with him. No small cause have I for being dissatisfied with Dame Nature, and, by my honor, I will have amends! Why did I not crawl the first from my mother's womb? why not the only one? why has she heaped on me this burden of deformity? on me especially? Just as if she had spawned me from her refuse. Why to me in particular this snub of the Laplander? these negro lips? these Hottentot eyes? On my word, the lady seems to have collected from all the race of mankind whatever was loathsome into a heap, and kneaded the mass into my particular person. Death and destruction! who empowered her to deny to me what she accorded to him? Could a man pay his court to her before he was born? or offend her before he existed? Why went she to work in such a partial spirit? No! no! I do her injusticeshe bestowed inventive faculty, and set us naked and helpless on the shore of this great ocean, the worldlet those swim who canthe heavy may sink. To me she gave naught else, and how to make the best use of my endowment is my present business. Men's natural rights are equal; claim is met by claim, effort by effort, and force by forceright is with the strongestthe limits of our power constitute our laws. It is true there are certain organized conventions, which men have devised to keep up what is called the social compact. Honor! truly a very convenient coin, which those who know how to pass it may lay out with great advantage. Conscience! oh yes, a useful scarecrow to frighten sparrows away from cherrytrees; it is something like a fairly written bill of exchange with which your bankrupt merchant staves off the evil day.  See Richard III., Act I, Sc. 1, line 17. Heavy is used in a double meaning; the German word is plump, which Means lumpish clumsy awkward. So Falstaff, Hen. IV., Pt. I., Act V., Sc. 1, \"Honor is a mere scutcheon.\" Well! these are all most admirable institutions for keeping fools in awe, and holding the mob underfoot, that the cunning may live the more at their ease. Rare institutions, doubtless. They are something like the fences my boors plant so closely to keep out the haresyes I' faith, not a hare can trespass on the enclosure, but my lord claps spurs to his hunter, and away he gallops over the teeming harvest! Poor hare! thou playest but a sorry part in this world's drama, but your worshipful lords must needs have hares! This may help to illustrate a passage in Shakespeare which puzzles the commentators\"Cupid is a good harefinder.\"Much ADO, Act I., Sc. 1. The hare, in Germany, is considered an emblem of abject submission and cowardice. The word may also be rendered \"Simpleton,\" \"Sawney,\" or any other of the numerous epithets which imply a soft condition. Then courage, and onward, Francis. The man who fears nothing is as powerful as he who is feared by everybody. It is now the mode to wear buckles on your smallclothes, that you may loosen or tighten them at pleasure. I will be measured for a conscience after the newest fashion, one that will stretch handsomely as occasion may require. Am I to blame? It is the tailor's affair? I have heard a great deal of twaddle about the socalled ties of bloodenough to make a sober man beside himself. He is your brother, they say; which interpreted, means that he was manufactured in the same mould, and for that reason he must needs be sacred in your eyes! To what absurd conclusions must this notion of a sympathy of souls, derived from the propinquity of bodies, inevitably tend? A common source of being is to produce community of sentiment; identity of matter, identity of impulse! Then again,he is thy father! He gave thee life, thou art his flesh and bloodand therefore he must be sacred to thee! Again a most inconsequential deduction! I should like to know why he begot me; certainly not out of love for mefor I must first have existed! The reader of Sterne will remember a very similar passage in the first chapter of Tristram Shandy. Could he know me before I had being, or did he think of me during my begetting? or did he wish for me at the moment? Did he know what I should be? If so I would not advise him to acknowledge it or I should pay him off for his feat. Am I to be thankful to him that I am a man? As little as I should have had a right to blame him if he had made me a woman. Can I acknowledge an affection which is not based on any personal regard? Could personal regard be present before the existence of its object? In what, then, consists the sacredness of paternity? Is it in the act itself out of which existence arose? as though this were aught else than an animal process to appease animal desires. Or does it lie, perhaps, in the result of this act, which is nothing more after all than one of iron necessity, and which men would gladly dispense with, were it not at the cost of flesh and blood? Do I then owe him thanks for his affection? Why, what is it but a piece of vanity, the besetting sin of the artist who admires his own works, however hideous they may be? Look you, this is the whole juggle, wrapped up in a mystic veil to work on our fears. And shall I, too, be fooled like an infant? Up then! and to thy work manfully. I will root up from my path whatever obstructs my progress towards becoming the master. Master I must be, that I may extort by force what I cannot win by affection. This soliloquy in some parts resembles that of Richard, Duke of Gloster, in Shakespeare's Henry VI., Act V. Sc. 6. Exit. SCENE II.A Tavern on the Frontier of Saxony. CHARLES VON MOOR intent on a book; SPIEGELBERG drinking at the table. CHARLES VON M. (lays the book aside). I am disgusted with this age of puny scribblers when I read of great men in my Plutarch. SPIEGEL. (places a glass before him, and drinks). Josephus is the book you should read. CHARLES VON M. The glowing spark of Prometheus is burnt out, and now they substitute for it the flash of lycopodium, a stagefire which will not so much as light a pipe. The present generation may be compared to rats crawling about the club of Hercules. Lycopodium (in German Barlappenmehl), vulgarly known as the Devil's Puffball or Witchmeal, is used on the stage, as well in England as on the continent, to produce flashes of fire. It is made of the pollen of common club moss, or wolf's claw (Lycopodium clavatum), the capsules of which contain a highly inflammable powder. Translators have uniformly failed in rendering this passage. This simile brings to mind Shakespeare's: \"We petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about.\" JULIUS CAESAR, Act I., Sc. 2. A French abbe lays it down that Alexander was a poltroon; a phthisicky professor, holding at every word a bottle of sal volatile to his nose, lectures on strength. Fellows who faint at the veriest trifle criticise the tactics of Hannibal; whimpering boys store themselves with phrases out of the slaughter at Canna; and blubber over the victories of Scipio, because they are obliged to construe them. SPIEGEL. Spouted in true Alexandrian style. CHARLES VON M. A brilliant reward for your sweat in the battlefield truly to have your existence perpetuated in gymnasiums, and your immortality laboriously dragged about in a schoolboy's satchel. A precious recompense for your lavished blood to be wrapped round gingerbread by some Nuremberg chandler, or, if you have great luck, to be screwed upon stilts by a French playwright, and be made to move on wires! Ha, ha, ha! SPIEGEL. (drinks). Read Josephus, I tell you. CHARLES VON M. Fie! fie upon this weak, effeminate age, fit for nothing but to ponder over the deeds of former times, and torture the heroes of antiquity with commentaries, or mangle them in tragedies. The vigor of its loins is dried up, and the propagation of the human species has become dependent on potations of malt liquor. SPIEGEL. Tea, brother! tea! CHARLES VON M. They curb honest nature with absurd conventionalities; have scarcely the heart to charge a glass, because they are tasked to drink a health in it; fawn upon the lackey that he may put in a word for them with His Grace, and bully the unfortunate wight from whom they have nothing to fear. They worship any one for a dinner, and are just as ready to poison him should he chance to outbid them for a featherbed at an auction. They damn the Sadducee who fails to come regularly to church, although their own devotion consists in reckoning up their usurious gains at the very altar. They cast themselves on their knees that they may have an opportunity of displaying their mantles, and hardly take their eyes off the parson from their anxiety to see how his wig is frizzled. They swoon at the sight of a bleeding goose, yet clap their hands with joy when they see their rival driven bankrupt from the Exchange. Warmly as I pressed their hands,\"Only one more day.\" In vain! To prison with the dog! Entreaties! Vows! Tears! (stamping the ground). Hell and the devil! SPIEGEL. And all for a few thousand paltry ducats! CHARLES VON M. No, I hate to think of it. Am I to squeeze my body into stays, and straightlace my will in the trammels of law. What might have risen to an eagle's flight has been reduced to a snail's pace by law. Never yet has law formed a great man; 'tis liberty that breeds giants and heroes. Oh! that the spirit of Herman still glowed in his ashes! Herman is the German for Armin or Arminius, the celebrated deliverer of Germany from the Roman yoke. See Menzel's History, vol. i., p. 85, etc. Set me at the head of an army of fellows like myself, and out of Germany shall spring a republic compared to which Rome and Sparta will be but as nunneries. (Rises and flings his sword upon the table.) SPIEGEL. (jumping up). Bravo! Bravissimo! you are coming to the right key now. I have something for your ear, Moor, which has long been on my mind, and you are the very man for itdrink, brother, drink! What if we turned Jews and brought the kingdom of Jerusalem again on the tapis? But tell me is it not a clever scheme? We send forth a manifesto to the four quarters of the world, and summon to Palestine all that do not eat Swineflesh. Then I prove by incontestable documents that Herod the Tetrarch was my direct ancestor, and so forth. There will be a victory, my fine fellow, when they return and are restored to their lands, and are able to rebuild Jerusalem. Then make a clean sweep of the Turks out of Asia while the iron is hot, hew cedars in Lebanon, build ships, and then the whole nation shall chaffer with old clothes and old lace throughout the world. Meanwhile CHARLES VON M. (smiles and takes him by the hand). Comrade! There must be an end now of our fooleries. SPIEGEL. (with surprise). Fie! you are not going to play the prodigal son!a fellow like you who with his sword has scratched more hieroglyhics on other men's faces than three quilldrivers could inscribe in their daybooks in a leapyear! Shall I tell you the story of the great dog funeral? Ha! I must just bring back your own picture to your mind; that will kindle fire in your veins, if nothing else has power to inspire you. Do you remember how the heads of the college caused your dog's leg to be shot off, and you, by way of revenge, proclaimed a fast through the whole town? They fumed and fretted at your edict. But you, without losing time, ordered all the meat to be bought up in Leipsic, so that in the course of eight hours there was not a bone left to pick all over the place, and even fish began to rise in price. The magistrates and the town council vowed vengeance. But we students turned out lustily, seventeen hundred of us, with you at our head, and butchers and tailors and haberdashers at our backs, besides publicans, barbers, and rabble of all sorts, swearing that the town should be sacked if a single hair of a student's head was injured. And so the affair went off like the shooting at Hornberg, and they were obliged to be off with their tails between their legs. The \"shooting at Hornberg\" is a proverbial expression in Germany for any expedition from which, through lack of courage, the parties retire without firing a shot. You sent for doctorsa whole posse of themand offered three ducats to any one who would write a prescription for your dog. We were afraid the gentlemen would stand too much upon honor and refuse, and had already made up our minds to use force. But this was quite unnecessary; the doctors got to fisticuffs for the three ducats, and their competition brought down the price to three groats; in the course of an hour a dozen prescriptions were written, of which, of course, the poor beast very soon died. CHARLES VON M. The vile rascals. SPIEGEL. The funeral procession was arranged with all due pomp; odes for the dog were indited by the gross; and at night we all turned out, near a thousand of us, a lantern in one hand and our rapier in the other, and so proceeded through the town, the bells chiming and ringing, till the dog was entombed. Then came a feed which lasted till broad daylight, when you sent your acknowledgments to the college dons for their kind sympathy, and ordered the meat to be sold at halfprice. Mort de ma vie, if we had not as great a respect for you as a garrison for the conqueror of a fortress. CHARLES VON M. And are you not ashamed to boast of these things? Have you not shame enough in you to blush even at the recollection of such pranks? SPIEGEL. Come, come! You are no longer the same Moor. Do you remember how, a thousand times, bottle in hand, you made game of the miserly old governor, bidding him by all means rake and scrape together as much as he could, for that you would swill it all down your throat? Don't you remember, eh?don't you remember?' O you goodfornothing, miserable braggart! that was speaking like a man, and a gentleman, but CHARLES VON M. A curse on you for reminding me of it! A curse on myself for what I said! But it was done in the fumes of wine, and my heart knew not what my tongue uttered. SPIEGEL. (shakes his head). No, no! that cannot be! Impossible, brother! You are not in earnest! Tell me! most sweet brother, is it not poverty which has brought you to this mood? Come! let me tell you a little story of my youthful days. There was a ditch close to my house, eight feet wide at the least, which we boys were trying to leap over for a wager. But it was no go. Splash! there you lay sprawling, amidst hisses and roars of laughter, and a relentless shower of snowballs. By the side of my house a hunter's dog was lying chained, a savage beast, which would catch the girls by their petticoats with the quickness of lightning if they incautiously passed too near him. Now it was my greatest delight to tease this brute in every possible way; and it was enough to make one burst with laughing to see the beast fix his eyes on me with such fierceness that he seemed ready to tear me to pieces if he could but get at me. Well, what happened? Once, when I was amusing myself in this manner, I hit him such a bang in the ribs with a stone that in his fury he broke loose and ran right upon me. I tore away like lightning, butdevil take it!that confounded ditch lay right in my way. What was to be done? The dog was close at my heels and quite furious; there was no time to deliberate. I took a spring and cleared the ditch. To that leap I was indebted for life and limb; the beast would have torn me to atoms. CHARLES VON M. And to what does all this tend? SPIEGEL. To thisthat you may be taught that strength grows with the occasion. For which reason I never despair even when things are the worst. Courage grows with danger. Powers of resistance increase by pressure. It is evident by the obstacles she strews in my path that fate must have designed me for a great man. CHARLES VON M. (angrily). I am not aware of anything for which we still require courage, and have not already shown it. SPIEGEL. Indeed! And so you mean to let your gifts go to waste? To bury your talent? Do you think your paltry achievements at Leipsic amount to the ne plus ultra of genius? Let us but once get to the great worldParis and London! where you get your ears boxed if you salute a man as honest. It is a real jubilee to practise one's handicraft there on a grand scale. How you will stare! How you will open your eyes! to see signatures forged; dice loaded; locks picked, and strong boxes gutted; all that you shall learn of Spiegelberg! The rascal deserves to be hanged on the first gallows that would rather starve than manipulate with his fingers. CHARLES VON M. (in a fit of absence). How now? I should not wonder if your proficiency went further still. SPIEGEL. I begin to think you mistrust me. Only wait till I have grown warm at it; you shall see wonders; your little brain shall whirl clean round in your pericranium when my teeming wit is delivered. (He rises excited.) How it clears up within me! Great thoughts are dawning in on my soul! Gigantic plans are fermenting in my creative brain. Cursed lethargy (striking his forehead), which has hitherto enchained my faculties, cramped and fettered my prospects! I awake; I feel what I amand what I am to be! CHARLES VON M. You are a fool! The wine is swaggering in your brain. SPIEGEL. (more excited). Spiegelberg, they will say, art thou a magician, Spiegelberg? 'Tis a pity, the king will say, that thou wert not made a general, Spiegelberg, thou wouldst have thrust the Austrians through a buttonhole. Yes, I hear the doctors lamenting, 'tis a crying shame that he was not bred to medicine, he would have discovered the elixir vitae. Ay, and that he did not take to financiering, the Sullys will deplore in their cabinets,he would have turned flints into louisd'ors by his magic. And Spiegelberg will be the word from east to west; then down into the dirt with you, ye cowards, ye reptiles, while Spiegelberg soars with outspread wings to the temple of everlasting fame. CHARLES VON M. A pleasant journey to you! I leave you to climb to the summit of glory on the pillars of infamy. In the shade of my ancestral groves, in the arms of my Amelia, a nobler joy awaits me. I have already, last week, written to my father to implore his forgiveness, and have not concealed the least circumstance from him; and where there is sincerity there is compassion and help. Let us take leave of each other, Moritz. After this day we shall meet no more. The post has arrived. My father's forgiveness must already be within the walls of this town. Enter SCHWEITZER, GRIMM, ROLLER, SCHUFTERLE, and RAZMAN. ROLLER. Are you aware that they are on our track! GRIMM. That we are not for a moment safe from being taken? CHARLES VON M. I don't wonder at it. It must be as it will! Have none of you seen Schwarz? Did he say anything about having a letter for me? ROLLER. He has been long in search of you on some such errand, I suspect. CHARLES VON M. Where is he? where, where? (is about to rush off in haste). ROLLER. Stay! we have appointed him to come here. You tremble? CHARLES VON M. I do not tremble. Why should I tremble? Comrades, this letterrejoice with me! I am the happiest man under the sun; why should I tremble? Enter SCHWARZ. CHARLES VON M. (rushes towards him). Brother, brother! the letter, the letter! SCHW. (gives him a letter, which he opens hastily). What's the matter? You have grown as pale as a whitewashed wall! CHARLES VON M. My brother's hand! SCHW. What the deuce is Spiegelberg about there? GRIMM. The fellow's mad. He jumps about as if he had St. Vitus' dance. SCHUF. His wits are gone a wool gathering! He's making verses, I'll be sworn! RAZ. Spiegelberg! Ho! Spiegelberg! The brute does not hear. GRIMM. (shakes him). Hallo! fellow! are you dreaming? or SPIEGEL. (who has all this time been making gestures in a corner of the room, as if working out some great project, jumps up wildly). Your money or your life! (He catches SCHWEITZER by the throat, who very coolly flings him against the wall; Moor drops the letter and rushes out. A general sensation.) ROLLER. (calling after him). Moor! where are you going? What's the matter? GRIMM. What ails him? What has he been doing? He is as pale as death. SCHW. He must have got strange news. Just let us see! ROLLER. (picks up the letter from the ground, and reads). \"Unfortunate brother!\"a pleasant beginning\"I have only briefly to inform you that you have nothing more to hope for. You may go, your father directs me to tell you, wherever your own vicious propensities lead. Nor are you to entertain, he says, any hope of ever gaining pardon by weeping at his feet, unless you are prepared to fare upon bread and water in the lowest dungeon of his castle until your hair shall outgrow eagles' feathers, and your nails the talons of a vulture. These are his very words. He commands me to close the letter. Farewell forever! I pity you. \"FRANCIS VON MOOR\" SCHW. A most amiable and loving brother, in good truth! And the scoundrel's name is Francis. SPIEGEL. (slinking forward). Bread and water! Is that it? A temperate diet! But I have made a better provision for you. Did I not say that I should have to think for you all at last? SCHWEIT. What does the blockhead say! The jackass is going to think for us all! SPIEGEL. Cowards, cripples, lame dogs are ye all if you have not courage enough to venture upon something great. ROLLER. Well, of course, so we should be, you are right; but will your proposed scheme get us out of this devil of a scrape? eh? SPIEGEL. (with a proud laugh). Poor thing! Get us out of this scrape? Ha, ha, ha! Get us out of the scrape!and is that all your thimbleful of brain can reach? And with that you trot your mare back to the stable? Spiegelberg would have been a miserable bungler indeed if that were the extent of his aim. Heroes, I tell you, barons, princes, gods, it will make of you. RAZ. That's pretty well for one bout, truly! But no doubt it is some neckbreaking piece of business; it will cost a head or so at the least. SPIEGEL. It wants nothing but courage; as to the headwork, I take that entirely upon myself. Courage, I say, Schweitzer! Courage, Roller! Grimm! Razman! Schufterle! Courage! SCHW. Courage! If that is all, I have courage enough to walk through hell barefoot. SCHUFT. And I courage enough to fight the very devil himself under the open gallows for the rescue of any poor sinner. SPIEGEL. That's just what it should be! If ye have courage, let any one of you step forward and say he has still something to lose, and not everything to gain? SCHW. Verily, I should have a good deal to lose, if I were to lose all that I have yet to win! PAZ. Yes, by Jove! and I much to win, if I could win all that I have not got to lose. SCHUFT. Were I to lose what I carry on my back on trust I should at any rate have nothing to lose on the morrow. SPIEGEL. Very well then! (He takes his place in the middle of them, and says in solemn adjuration)if but a drop of the heroic blood of the ancient Germans still flow in your veinscome! We will fix our abode in the Bohemian forests, draw together a band of robbers, andWhat are you gaping at? Has your slender stock of courage oozed out already? ROLLER. You are not the first rogue by many that has defied the gallows;and yet what other choice have we? SPIEGEL. Choice? You have no choice. Do you want to lie rotting in the debtor's jail and beat hemp till you are bailed by the last trumpet? Would you toil with pickaxe and spade for a morsel of dry bread? or earn a pitiful alms by singing doleful ditties under people's windows? Or will you be sworn at the drumheadand then comes the question, whether anybody would trust your hangdog visagesand so under the splenetic humor of some despotic sergeant serve your time of purgatory in advance? Would you like to run the gauntlet to the beat of the drum? or be doomed to drag after you, like a galleyslave, the whole iron store of Vulcan? Behold your choice. You have before you the complete catalogue of all that you may choose from! ROLLER. Spiegelberg is not altogether wrong! I, too, have been concocting plans, but they come much to the same thing. How would it be, thought I, were we to club our wits together, and dish up a pocketbook, or an almanac, or something of that sort, and write reviews at a penny a line, as is now the fashion? SCHUFT. The devil's in you! you are pretty nearly hitting on my own schemes. I have been thinking to myself how would it answer were I to turn Methodist, and hold weekly prayermeetings? GRIMM. Capital! and, if that fails, turn atheist! We might fall foul of the four Gospels, get our book burned by the hangman, and then it would sell at a prodigious rate. RAZ. Or we might take the field to cure a fashionable ailment. I know a quack doctor who has built himself a house with nothing but mercury, as the motto over his door implies. SCHWEIT. (rises and holds out his hand to Spiegelberg). Spiegelberg, thou art a great man! or else a blind hog has by chance found an acorn. SCHW. Excellent schemes! Honorable professions! How great minds sympathize! All that seems wanting to complete the list is that we should turn pimps and bawds. SPIEGEL. Pooh! Pooh! Nonsense. And what is to prevent our combining most of these occupations in one person? My plan will exalt you the most, and it holds out glory and immortality into the bargain. Remember, too, ye sorry varlets, and it is a matter worthy of consideration: one's fame hereafterthe sweet thought of immortality ROLLER. And that at the very head of the musterroll of honorable names! You are a master of eloquence, Spiegelberg, when the question is how to convert an honest man into a scoundrel. But does any one know what has become of Moor? SPIEGEL. Honest, say you? Do you think you'll be less honest then than you are now? What do you call honest? To relieve rich misers of half of those cares which only scare golden sleep from their eyelids; to force hoarded coin into circulation; to restore the equalization of property; in one word, to bring back the golden age; to relieve Providence of many a burdensome pensioner, and so save it the trouble of sending war, pestilence, famine, and above all, doctorsthat is what I call honesty, d'ye see; that's what I call being a worthy instrument in the hand of Providence,and then, at every meal you eat, to have the sweet reflection: this is what thy own ingenuity, thy lion boldness, thy night watchings, have procured for theeto command the respect both of great and small! ROLLER. And at last to mount towards heaven in the living body, and in spite of wind and storm, in spite of the greedy maw of old father Time, to be hovering beneath the sun and moon and all the stars of the firmament, where even the unreasoning birds of heaven, attracted by noble instinct, chant their seraphic music, and angels with tails hold their most holy councils? Don't you see? And, while monarchs and potentates become a prey to moths and worms, to have the honor of receiving visits from the royal bird of Jove. Moritz, Moritz, Moritz! beware of the threelegged beast. The gallows, which in Germany is formed of three posts. SPIEGEL. And does that fright thee, cravenheart? Has not many a universal genius, who might have reformed the world, rotted upon the gallows? And does not the renown of such a man live for hundreds and thousands of years, whereas many a king and elector would be passed over in history, were not historians obliged to give him a niche to complete the line of succession, or that the mention of him did not swell the volume a few octavo pages, for which he counts upon hard cash from the publisher. And when the wayfarer sees you swinging to and fro in the breeze he will mutter to himself, \"That fellow's brains had no water in them, I'll warrant me,\" and then groan over the hardship of the times. SCHWEIT. (slaps him on the shoulder). Well said, Spiegelberg! Well said! Why the devil do we stand here hesitating? SCHW. And suppose it is called disgracewhat then? Cannot one, in case of need, always carry a small powder about one, which quietly smooths the weary traveller's passage across the Styx, where no cockcrowing will disturb his rest? No, brother Moritz! Your scheme is good; so at least says my creed. SCHUFT. Zounds! and mine too! Spiegelberg, I am your recruit. RAZ. Like a second Orpheus, Spiegelberg, you have charmed to sleep that howling beast, conscience! Take me as I stand, I am yours entirely! GRIMMM. Si omnes consentiunt ego non dissentio; mind, without a comma. There is an auction going on in my headmethodistsquack doctorsreviewersrogues;the highest bidder has me. Here is my hand, Moritz! The joke is explained by placing a comma after non. ROLLER. And you too, Schweitzer? (he gives his right hand to SPIEGELBERG). Thus I consign my soul to the devil. SPIEGEL. And your name to the stars! What does it signify where the soul goes to? If crowds of avantcouriers give notice of our descent that the devils may put on their holiday gear, wipe the accumulated soot of a thousand years from their eyelashes, and myriads of horned heads pop up from the smoking mouth of their sulphurous chimneys to welcome our arrival! 'Up, comrades! (leaping up). Up! What in the world is equal to this ecstacy of delight? Come along, comrades! ROLLER. Gently, gently! Where are you going? Every beast must have a head, boys! SPIEGEL. (With bitterness). What is that incubus preaching about? Was not the head already there before a single limb began to move? Follow me, comrades! ROLLER. Gently, I say! even liberty must have its master. Rome and Sparta perished for want of a chief. SPIEGEL. (in a wheedling manner). Yes,stayRoller is right. And he must have an enlightened head. Do you understand? A keen, politic head. Yes! when I think what you were only an hour ago, and what you are now, and that it is all owing to one happy thought. Yes, of course, you must have a chief, and you'll own that he who struck out this idea may claim to have an enlightened and politic head? ROLLER. If one could hope, if one could dream, but I fear he will not consent. SPIEGEL. Why not? Speak out boldly, friend! Difficult as it may be to steer a laboring vessel against wind and tide, oppressive as may be the weight of a crown, speak your thought without hesitation, Roller! Perhaps he may be prevailed upon after all! ROLLER. And if he does not the whole vessel will be crazy enough. Without Moor we are a \"body without a soul.\" SPIEGEL. (turning angrily from him). Dolt! blockhead! (Enter CHARLES VON MOOR in violent agitation, stalking backwards and forwards, and speaking to himself.) CHARLES VON M. Manman! false, perfidious crocodilebrood! Your eyes are all tears, but your hearts steel! Kisses on your lips, but daggers couched in your bosoms! Even lions and tigers nourish their young. Ravens feast their brood on carrion, and hehe Malice I have learned to bear; and I can smile when my fellest enemy drinks to me in my own heart's blood; but when kindred turn traitors, when a father's love becomes a fury's hate; oh, then, let manly resignation give place to raging fire! the gentle lamb become a tiger! and every nerve strain itself to vengeance and destruction! ROLLER. Hark ye, Moor! What think ye of it? A robber's life is pleasanter, after all, than to lie rotting on bread and water in the lowest dungeon of the castle? CHARLES VON M. Why was not this spirit implanted in a tiger which gluts its raging jaws with human flesh? Is this a father's tenderness? Is this love for love? Would I were a bear to rouse all the bears of the north against this murderous race! Repentance, and no pardon! Oh, that I could poison the ocean that men might drink death from every spring! Contrition, implicit reliance, and no pardon! ROLLER. But listen, Moor,listen to what I am telling you! CHARLES VON M. 'Tis incredible! 'tis a dreama delusion! Such earnest entreaty, such a vivid picture of misery and tearful penitencea savage beast would have been melted to compassion! stones would have wept, and yet heit would be thought a malicious libel upon human nature were I to proclaim itand yet, yetoh, that I could sound the trumpet of rebellion through all creation, and lead air, and earth, and sea into battle array against this generation of hyenas! GRIMM. Hear me, only hear me! You are deaf with raving. CHARLES VON M. Avaunt, avaunt! Is not thy name man? Art thou not born of woman? Out of my sight, thou thing with human visage! I loved him so unutterably!never son so loved a father; I would have sacrificed a thousand lives for him (foaming and stamping the ground). Ha! where is he that will put a sword into my hand that I may strike this generation of vipers to the quick! Who will teach me how to reach their heart's core, to crush, to annihilate the whole race? Such a man shall be my friend, my angel, my godhim will I worship! ROLLER. Such friends behold in us; be but advised! SCHW. Come with us into the Bohemian forests! We will form a band of robbers there, and you (MOOR stares at him). SCHWEIT. You shall be our captain! you must be our captain! SPIEGEL. (throws himself into a chair in a rage). Slaves and cowards! CHARLES VON M. Who inspired thee with that thought? Hark, fellow! (grasping ROLLER tightly) that human soul of thine did not produce it; who suggested it to thee? Yes, by the thousand arms of death! that's what we will, and what we must do! the thought's divine. He who conceived it deserves to be canonized. Robbers and murderers! As my soul lives, I am your captain! ALL (with tumultuous shouts). Hurrah! long live our captain! SPIEGEL. (starting up, aside). Till I give him his coup de grace! CHARLES VON M. See, it falls like a film from my eyes! What a fool was I to think of returning to be caged? My soul's athirst for deeds, my spirit pants for freedom. Murderers, robbers! with these words I trample the law underfootmankind threw off humanity when I appealed to it. Away, then, with human sympathies and mercy! I no longer have a father, no longer affections; blood and death shall teach me to forget that anything was ever dear to me! Come! come! Oh, I will recreate myself with some most fearful vengeance;'tis resolved, I am your captain! and success to him who Shall spread fire and slaughter the widest and most savagelyI pledge myself He shall be right royally rewarded. Stand around me, all of you, and swear to me fealty and obedience unto death! Swear by this trusty right hand. ALL (place their hands in his). We swear to thee fealty and obedience unto death! CHARLES VON M. And, by this same trusty right Hand, I here swear to you to remain your captain, true and faithful unto death! This arm shall make an instant corpse of him who doubts, or fears, or retreats. And may the same befall me from your hands if I betray my oath! Are you content? SPIEGELBERG runs up and down in a furious rage. ALL (throwing up their hats). We are content! CHARLES VON M. Well, then, let us be gone! Fear neither death nor danger, for an unalterable destiny rules over us. Every man has his doom, be it to die on the soft pillow of down, or in the field of blood, or on the scaffold, or the wheel! One or the other of these must be our lot! Exeunt. SPIEGEL. (looking after them after a pause). Your catalogue has a hole in it. You have omitted poison. Exit. SCENE III.MOOR'S Castle.AMELIA'S Chamber. FRANCIS, AMELIA. FRANCIS. Your face is averted from me, Amelia? Am I less worthy than he who is accursed of his father? AMELIA. Away! Oh! what a loving, compassionate father, who abandons his son a prey to wolves and monsters! In his own comfortable home he pampers himself with delicious wines and stretches his palsied limbs on down, while his noble son is starving. Shame upon you, inhuman wretches! Shame upon you, ye souls of dragons, ye blots on humanity! his only son! FRANCIS. I thought he had two. AMELIA. Yes, he deserves to have such sons as you are. On his deathbed he will in vain stretch out his withered hands for his Charles, and recoil with a shudder when he feels the icecold hand of his Francis. Oh, it is sweet, deliciously sweet, to be cursed by such a father! Tell me, Francis, dear brotherly soultell me what must one do to be cursed by him? FRANCIS. You are raving, dearest; you are to be pitied. AMELIA. Oh! indeed. Do you pity your brother? No, monster, you hate him! I hope you hate me too. FRANCIS. I love you as dearly as I love myself, Amelia! AMELIA. If you love me you will not refuse me one little request. FRANCIS. None, none! if you ask no more than my life. AMELIA. Oh, if that is the case! then one request, which you will so easily, so readily grant. (Loftily.) Hate me! I should perforce blush crimson if, whilst thinking of Charles, it should for a moment enter my mind that you do not hate me. You promise me this? Now go, and leave me; I so love to be alone! FRANCIS. Lovely enthusiast! how greatly I admire your gentle, affectionate heart. Here, here, Charles reigned sole monarch, like a god within his temple; he stood before thee waking, he filled your imaination dreaming; the whole creation seemed to thee to centre in Charles, and to reflect him alone; it gave thee no other echo but of him. AMELIA (with emotion). Yes, verily, I own it. Despite of you all, barbarians as you are, I will own it before all the world. I love him! FRANCIS. Inhuman, cruel! So to requite a love like this! To forget her AMELIA (starting). What! forget me? FRANCIS. Did you not place a ring on his finger?a diamond ring, the pledge of your love? To be sure how is it possible for youth to resist the fascinations of a wanton? Who can blame him for it, since he had nothing else left to give away? and of course she repaid him with interest by her caresses and embraces. AMELIA (with indignation). My ring to a wanton? FRANCIS. Fie, fie! it is disgraceful. 'Twould not be much, however, if that were all. A ring, be it ever so costly, is, after all, a thing which one may always buy of a Jew. Perhaps the fashion of it did not please him, perhaps he exchanged it for one more beautiful. AMELIA (with violence). But my ring, I say, my ring? FRANCIS. Even yours, Amelia. Ha! such a brilliant, and on my finger; and from Amelia! Death itself should not have plucked it hence. It is not the costliness of the diamond, not the cunning of the patternit is love which constitutes its value. Is it not so, Amelia? Dearest child, you are weeping. Woe be to him who causes such precious drops to flow from those heavenly eyes; ah, and if you knew all, if you could but see him yourself, see him under that form? AMELIA. Monster! what do you mean? What form do you speak of? FRANCIS. Hush, hush, gentle soul, press me no further (as if soliloquizing, yet aloud). If it had only some veil, that horrid vice, under which it might shroud itself from the eye of the world! But there it is, glaring horribly through the sallow, leaden eye; proclaiming itself in the sunken, deathlike look; ghastly protruding bones; the faltering, hollow voice; preaching audibly from the shattered, shaking skeleton; piercing to the most vital marrow of the bones, and sapping the manly strength of youthfaugh! the idea sickens me. Nose, eyes, ears shrink from it. You saw that miserable wretch, Amelia, in our hospital, who was heavily breathing out his spirit; modesty seemed to cast down her abashed eye as she passed him; you cried woe upon him. Recall that hideous image to your mind, and your Charles stands before you. His kisses are pestilence, his lips poison. AMELIA (strikes him). Shameless liar! FRANCIS. Does such a Charles inspire you with horror? Does the mere picture fill you with disgust? Go, then! gaze upon him yourself, your handsome, your angelic, your divine Charles! Go, drink his balmy breath, and revel in the ambrosial fumes which ascend from his throat! The very exhalations of his body will plunge you into that dark and deathlike dizziness which follows the smell of a bursting carcase, or the sight of a corpsestrewn battlefield. (AMELIA turns away her face.) What sensations of love! What rapture in those embraces! But is it not unjust to condemn a man because of his diseased exterior? Even in the most wretched lump of deformity a soul great and worthy of love may beam forth brightly like a pearl on a dunghill. ( With a malignant smile.) Even from lips of corruption love may. To be sure if vice should undermine the very foundations of character, if with chastity virtue too should take her flight as the fragrance departs from the faded roseif with the body the soul too should be tainted and corrupted. AMELIA (rising joyfully). Ha! Charles! now I recognize thee again! Thou art whole, whole! It was all a lie! Dost thou not know, miscreant, that it would be impossible for Charles to be the being you describe? (FRANCIS remains standing for some time, lost in thought, then suddenly turns round to go away.) Whither are you going in such haste? Are you flying from your own infamy? FRANCIS (hiding his face). Let me go, let me go! to give free vent to my tears! tyrannical father, thus to abandon the best of your sons to misery and disgrace on every side! Let me go, Amelia! I will throw myself at his feet, on my knees I will conjure him to transfer to me the curse that he has pronounced, to disinherit me, to hate me, my blood, my life, my all. AMELIA (falls on his neck). Brother of my Charles! Dearest, most excellent Francis! FRANCIS. Oh, Amelia! how I love you for this unshaken constancy to my brother. Forgive me for venturing to subject your love to so severe a trial! How nobly you have realized my wishes! By those tears, those sighs, that divine indignationand for me too, for meour souls did so truly harmonize. AMELIA. Oh, no! that they never did! FRANCIS. Alas! they harmonized so truly that I always thought we must be twins. And were it not for that unfortunate difference in person, to be twinlike, which, it must be admitted, would be to the disadvantage of Charles, we should again and again be mistaken for each other. Thou art, I often said to myself, thou art the very Charles, his echo, his counterpart. AMELIA (shakes her head). No, no! by that chaste light of heaven! not an atom of him, not the least spark of his soul. FRANCIS. So entirely the same in our dispositions; the rose was his favorite flower, and what flower do I esteem above the rose? He loved music beyond expression; and ye are witnesses, ye stars! how often you have listened to me playing on the harpsichord in the dead silence of night, when all around lay buried in darkness and slumber; and how is it possible for you, Amelia, still to doubt? if our love meets in one perfection, and if it is the selfsame love, how can its fruits degenerate? (AMELIA looks at him with astonishment.) It was a calm, serene evening, the last before his departure for Leipzic, when he took me with him to the bower where you so often sat together in dreams of love,we were long speechless; at last he seized my hand, and said, in a low voice, and with tears in his eyes, \"I am leaving Amelia; I know not, but I have a sad presentiment that it is forever; forsake her not, brother; be her friend, her Charlesif Charlesshould nevernever return.\" (He throws himself down before her, and kisses her hand with fervor.) Never, never, never will he return; and I stand pledged by a sacred oath to fulfil his behest! AMELIA (starting back). Traitor! Now thou art unmasked! In that very bower he conjured me, if he died, to admit no other love. Dost thou see how impious, how execrable. Quit my sight! FRANCIS. You know me not, Amelia; you do not know me in the least! AMELIA. Oh, yes, I know you; from henceforth I know you; and you pretend to be like him? You mean to say that he wept for me in your presence? Yours? He would sooner have inscribed my name on the pillory? Begonethis instant! FRANCIS. You insult me. AMELIA. GoI say. You have robbed me of a precious hour; may it be deducted from your life. FRANCIS. You hate me then! AMELIA. I despise youaway! FRANCIS (stamping with fury). Only wait! you shall learn to tremble before me!To sacrifice me for a beggar! Exit in anger. AMELIA. Go, thou base villain! Now, Charles, am I again thine own. Beggar, did he say! then is the world turned upside down, beggars are kings, and kings are beggars! I would not change the rags he wears for the imperial purple. The look with which he begs must, indeed, be a noble, a royal look, a look that withers into naught the glory, the pomp, the triumphs of the rich and great! Into the dust with thee, glittering baubles! (She tears her pearls from her neck.) Let the rich and the proud be condemned to bear the burden of gold, and silver, and jewels! Be they condemned to carouse at the tables of the voluptuous! To pamper their limbs on the downy couch of luxury! Charles! Charles! Thus am I worthy of thee! Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.FRANCIS VON MOOR in his chamberin meditation. FRANCIS. It lasts too longand the doctor even says is recoveringan old man's life is a very eternity! The course would be free and plain before me, but for this troublesome, tough lump of flesh, which, like the infernal demonhound in ghost stories, bars the way to my treasures. Must, then, my projects bend to the iron yoke of a mechanical system? Is my soaring spirit to be chained down to the snail's pace of matter? To blow out a wick which is already flickering upon its last drop of oil'tis nothing more. And yet I would rather not do it myself, on account of what the world would say. I should not wish him to be killed, but merely disposed of. I should like to do what your clever physician does, only the reverse waynot stop Nature's course by running a bar across her path, but only help her to speed a little faster. Are we not able to prolong the conditions of life? Why, then, should we not also be able to shorten them? Philosophers and physiologists teach us how close is the sympathy between the emotions of the mind and the movements of the bodily machine. Convulsive sensations are always accompanied by a disturbance of the mechanical vibrations passions injure the vital powersan overburdened spirit bursts its shell. Well, thenwhat if one knew how to smooth this unbeaten path, for the easier entrance of death into the citadel of life?to work the body's destruction through the mindha! an original device!who can accomplish this?a device without a parallel! Think upon it, Moor! That were an art worthy of thee for its inventor. Has not poisoning been raised almost to the rank of a regular science, and Nature compelled, by the force of experiments, to define her limits, so that one may now calculate the heart's throbbings for years in advance, and say to the beating pulse, \"So far, and no farther\"? Why should not one try one's skill in this line? A woman in Paris, by means of a regularly performed series of experiments, carried the art of poisoning to such perfection that she could predict almost to a certainty the day of death, however remote. Fie upon our physicians, who should blush to be outdone by a woman in their own province. Beckmann, in his article on secret poisoning, has given a particular account of this woman, the Marchioness de Brinvilliers.See \"History of Inventions,\" Standard Library Edition, vol. i, pp. 4763. And how, then, must I, too, go to work to dissever that sweet and peaceful union of soul and body? What species of sensations should I seek to produce? Which would most fiercely assail the condition of life? Anger?that ravenous wolf is too quickly satiated. Care? that worm gnaws far too slowly. Grief?that viper creeps too lazily for me. Fear?hope destroys its power. What! and are these the only executioners of man? is the armory of death so soon exhausted? (In deep thought.) How now! what! ho! I have it! (Starting up.) Terror! What is proof against terror? What powers have religion and reason under that giant's icy grasp! And yetif he should withstand even this assault? If he should! Oh, then, come Anguish to my aid! and thou, gnawing Repentance!furies of hell, burrowing snakes who regorge your food, and feed upon your own excrements; ye that are forever destroying, and forever reproducing your poison! And thou, howling Remorse, that desolatest thine own habitation, and feedest upon thy mother. And come ye, too, gentle Graces, to my aid; even you, sweet smiling Memory, goddess of the pastand thou, with thy overflowing horn of plenty, blooming Futurity; show him in your mirror the joys of Paradise, while with fleeting foot you elude his eager grasp. Thus will I work my battery of death, stroke after stroke, upon his fragile body, until the troop of furies close upon him with Despair! Triumph! triumph!the plan is completedifficult and masterly beyond comparesuresafe; for then (with a sneer) the dissecting knife can find no trace of wound or of corrosive poison. (Resolutely.) Be it so! (Enter HERMANN.) Ha! Deus ex machina! Hermann! HERMANN. At your service, gracious sir! FRANCIS (shakes him by the hand). You will not find it that of an ungrateful master. HERMANN. I have proofs of this. FRANCIS. And you shall have more soonvery soon, Hermann!I have something to say to thee, Hermann. HERMANN. I am all attention. FRANCIS. I know theethou art a resolute fellowa man of mettle.To call thee smoothtongued! My father has greatly belied thee, Hermann. HERMANN. The devil take me if I forget it! FRANCIS. Spoken like a man! Vengeance becomes a manly heart! Thou art to my mind, Hermann. Take this purse, Hermann. It should be heavier were I master here. HERMANN. That is my unceasing wish, most gracious sir. I thank you. FRANCIS. Really, Hermann! dost thou wish that I were master? But my father has the marrow of a lion in his bones, and I am but a younger son. HERMANN. I wish you were the eldest son, and that your father were as marrowless as a girl sinking in a consumption. FRANCIS. Ha! how that elder son would recompense thee! How he would raise thee from this grovelling condition, so ill suited to thy spirit and noble birth, to be a light of the age!Then shouldst thou be covered with gold from head to foot, and dash through the streets four in handverily thou shouldst!But I am losing sight of what I meant to say.Have you already forgotten the Lady Amelia, Hermann? HERMANN. A curse upon it! Why do you remind me of her? FRANCIS. My brother has filched her away from you. HERMANN. He shall rue it. FRANCIS. She gave you the sack. And, if I remember right, he kicked you down stairs. HERMANN. For which I will kick him into hell. FRANCIS. He used to say, it was whispered abroad, that your father could never look upon you without smiting his breast and sighing, \"God be merciful to me, a sinner!\" HERMANN (wildly). Thunder and lightning! No more of this! FRANCIS. He advised you to sell your patent of nobility by auction, and to get your stockings mended with the proceeds. HERMANN. By all the devils in hell, I'll scratch out his eyes with my own nails! FRANCIS. What? you are growing angry? What signifies your anger? What harm can you do him? What can a mouse like you do to such a lion? Your rage only makes his triumph the sweeter. You can do nothing more than gnash your teeth, and vent your rage upon a dry crust. HERMANN (stamping). I will grind him to powder! FRANCIS (slapping his shoulder). Fie, Hermann! You are a gentleman. You must not put up with the affront. You must not give up the lady, no, not for all the world, Hermann! By my soul, I would move heaven and earth were I in your place. HERMANN. I will not rest till I have him, and him, too, under ground. FRANCIS. Not so violent, Hermann! Come neareryou shall have Amelia. HERMANN. That I must; despite the devil himself, I will have her. FRANCIS. You shall have her, I tell you; and that from my hand. Come closer, I say.You don't know, perhaps, that Charles is as good as disinherited. HERMANN (going closer to him). Incredible! The first I have heard of it. FRANCIS. Be patient, and listen! Another time you shall hear more. Yes, I tell you, as good as banished these eleven months. But the old man already begins to lament the hasty step, which, however, I flatter myself (with a smile) is not entirely his own. Amelia, too, is incessantly pursuing him with her tears and reproaches. Presently he will be having him searched for in every quarter of the world; and if he finds himthen it's all over with you, Hermann. You may perhaps have the honor of most obsequiously holding the coachdoor while he alights with the lady to get married. HERMANN. I'll strangle him at the altar first. FRANCIS. His father will soon give up his estates to him, and live in retirement in his castle. Then the proud roysterer will have the reins in his own hands, and laugh his enemies to scorn;and I, who wished to make a great man of youa man of consequenceI myself, Hermann, shall have to make my humble obeisance at his threshold. HERMANN (with fire). No, as sure as my name is Hermann, that shall never be! If but the smallest spark of wit glimmer in this brain of mine, that shall never be! FRANCIS. Will you be able to prevent it? You, too, my good Hermann, will be made to feel his lash. He will spit in your face when he meets you in the streets; and woe be to you should you venture to shrug your shoulders or to make a wry mouth. Look, my friend! this is all that your lovesuit, your prospects, and your mighty plans amount to. HERMANN. Tell me, what am I to do? FRANCIS. Well, then, listen, Hermann! You see how I enter into your feelings, like a true friend. Godisguise yourself, so that no one may recognize you; obtain audience of the old man; pretend to come straight from Bohemia, to have been at the battle of Prague along with my brotherto have seen him breathe his last on the field of battle! HERMANN. Will he believe me? FRANCIS. Ho! ho! let that be my care! Take this packet. There you will find your commission set forth at large; and documents, to boot, which shall convince the most incredulous. Only make haste to get away unobserved. Slip through the back gate into the yard, and then scale the garden wall.The denouement of this tragicomedy you may leave to me! HERMANN. That, I suppose, will be, \"Long live our new baron, Francis von Moor!\" FRANCIS (patting his cheeks). How cunning you are! By this means, you see, we attain all our aims at once and quickly. Amelia relinquishes all hope of him,the old man reproaches himself for the death of his son, andhe sickensa tottering edifice needs no earthquake to bring it downhe will not survive the intelligencethen am I his only son, Amelia loses every support, and becomes the plaything of my will, and you may easily guessin short, all will go as we wishbut you must not flinch from your word. HERMANN. What do you say? (Exultingly.) Sooner shall the ball turn back in its course, and bury itself in the entrails of the marksman. Depend upon me! Only let me to the work. Adieu! FRANCIS (calling after him). The harvest is thine, dear Hermann! (Alone.) When the ox has drawn the corn into the barn, he must put up with hay. A dairy maid for thee, and no Amelia! SCENE II.Old Moor's Bedchamber. OLD MOOR asleep in an armchair; AMELIA. AMELIA (approaching him on tiptoe). Softly! Softly! He slumbers. (She places herself before him.) How beautiful! how venerable! venerable as the picture of a saint. No, I cannot be angry with thee, thou head with the silver locks; I cannot be angry with thee! Slumber on gently, wake up cheerfullyI alone will be the sufferer. OLD M. (dreaming). My son! my son! my son! AMELIA (seizes his hand). Hark!hark! his son is in his dreams. OLD M. Are you there? Are you really there! Alas! how miserable you seem! Fix not on me that mournful look! I am wretched enough. AMELIA (awakens him abruptly). Look up, dear old man! 'Twas but a dream. Collect yourself! OLD M. (half awake). Was he not there? Did I not press his hands? Cruel Francis! wilt thou tear him even from my dreams? AMELIA (aside). Ha! mark that, Amelia! OLD M. (rousing himself). Where is he? Where? Where am I? You here, Amelia? AMELIA. How do you find yourself? You have had a refreshing slumber. OLD M. I was dreaming about my son. Why did I not dream on? Perhaps I might have obtained forgiveness from his lips. AMELIA. Angels bear no resentmenthe forgives you. (Seizes his hand sorrowfully.) Father of my Charles! I, too, forgive you. OLD M. No, no, my child! That deathlike paleness of thy cheek is the father's condemnation. Poor girl! I have robbed thee of the happiness of thy youth. Oh, do not curse me! AMELIA (affectionately kissing his hand). I curse you? OLD M. Dost thou know this portrait, my daughter? AMELIA. Charles! OLD M. Such was he in his sixteenth year. But now, alas! how changed. Oh, it is raging within me. That gentleness is now indignation; that smile despair. It was his birthday, was it not, Ameliain the jessamine bowerwhen you drew this picture of him? Oh, my daughter! How happy was I in your loves. AMELIA (with her eye still riveted upon the picture). No, no, it is not he! By Heaven, that is not Charles! Here (pointing to her head and her heart), here he is perfect; and how different. The feeble pencil avails not to express that heavenly spirit which reigned in his fiery eye. Away with it! This is a poor image, an ordinary man! I was a mere dauber. OLD M. That kind, that cheering look! Had that been at my bedside, I should have lived in the midst of death. Never, never should I have died! AMELIA. No, you would never, never have died. It would have been but a leap, as we leap from one thought to another and a better. That look would have lighted you across the tombthat look would have lifted you beyond the stars! OLD M. It is hard! it is sad! I am dying, and my son Charles is not hereI am borne to my tomb, and he weeps not over my grave. How sweet it is to be lulled into the sleep of death by a son's prayerthat is the true requiem. AMELIA (with enthusiasm). Yes, sweet it is, heavenly sweet, to be lulled into the sleep of death by the song of the beloved. Perhaps our dreams continue in the gravea long, eternal, neverending dream of Charlestill the trumpet of resurrection sounds(rising in ecstasy) and thenceforth and forever in his arms! (A pause; she goes to the piano and plays.) ANDROMACHE. Oh, Hector, wilt thou go for evermore, When fierce Achilles, on the bloodstained shore, Heaps countless victims o'er Patroclus' grave? When then thy hapless orphan boy will rear, Teach him to praise the gods and hurl the spear, When thou art swallow'd up in Xanthus' wave? OLD M. A beautiful song, my daughter. You must play that to me before I die. AMELIA. It is the parting of Hector and Andromache. Charles and I used often to sing it together to the guitar. (She continues.) HECTOR. Beloved wife! stern duty calls to arms Go, fetch my lance! and cease those vain alarms! On me is cast the destiny of Troy! Astyanax, my child, the Gods will shield, Should Hector fall upon the battlefield; And in Elysium we shall meet with joy! Enter DANIEL. DANIEL. There is a man without, who craves to be admitted to your presence, and says he brings tidings of importance. OLD M. To me there is but one thing in this world of importance; thou knowest it, Amelia. Perhaps it is some unfortunate creature who seeks assistance? He shall not go hence in sorrow. AMELIA.If it is a beggar, let him come up quickly. OLD M. Amelia, Amelia! spare me! AMELIA (continues to play and sing.) ANDROMACHE. Thy martial tread no more will grace my hall Thine arms shall hang sad relics on the wall And Priam's race of godlike heroes fade! Oh, thou wilt go where Phoebus sheds no light Where black Cocytus wails in endless night Thy love will die in Lethe's gloomy shade. HECTOR. Though I in Lethe's darksome wave should sink, And cease on other mortal ties to think, Yet thy true love shall never be forgot! Hark! on the walls I hear the battle roar Gird on my armorand, oh, weep no more. Thy Hector's love in Lethe dieth not! (Enter FRANCIS, HERMANN in disguise, DANIEL.) FRANCIS. Here is the man. He says that he brings terrible news. Can you bear the recital! OLD M. I know but one thing terrible to hear. Come hither, friend, and spare me not! Hand him a cup of wine! HERMANN (in a feigned voice). Most gracious Sir? Let not a poor man be visited with your displeasure, if against his will he lacerates your heart. I am a stranger in these parts, but I know you well; you are the father of Charles von Moor. OLD M. How know you that? HERMANN. I knew your son AMELIA (starting up). He lives then? He lives! You know him? Where is he? Where? (About to rush out.) OLD M. What know you about my son? HERMANN. He was a student at the university of Leipzic. From thence he travelled about, I know not how far. He wandered all over Germany, and, as he told me himself, barefoot and bareheaded, begging his bread from door to door. After five months, the fatal war between Prussia and Austria broke out afresh, and as he had no hopes left in this world, the fame of Frederick's victorious banner drew him to Bohemia. Permit me, said he to the great Schwerin, to die on the bed of heroes, for I have no longer a father! OLD M. O! Amelia! Look not on me! HERMANN. They gave him a pair of colors. With the Prussians he flew on the wings of victory. We chanced to lie together, in the same tent. He talked much of his old father, and of happy days that were pastand of disappointed hopesit brought the tears into our eyes. OLD M. (buries his face in his pillow).No more! Oh, no more! HERMANN. A week after, the fierce battle of Prague was foughtI can assure you your son behaved like a brave soldier. He performed prodigies that day in sight of the whole army. Five regiments were successively cut down by his side, and still he kept his ground. Fiery shells fell right and left, and still your son kept his ground. A ball shattered his right hand: he seized the colors with his left, and still he kept his ground! AMELIA (in transport). Hector, Hector! do you hear? He kept his ground! HERMANN. On the evening of the battle I found him on the same spot. He had sunk down, amidst a shower of hissing balls: with his left hand he was staunching the blood that flowed from a fearful wound; his right he had buried in the earth. \"Comrade!\" cried he when he saw me, \"there has been a report through the ranks that the general fell an hour ago\" \"He is fallen,\" I replied, \"and thou?\" \"Well, then,\" he cried, withdrawing his left hand from the wound, \"let every brave soldier follow his general!\" Soon after he breathed out his noble soul, to join his heroic leader. FRANCIS (feigning to rush wildly on HERMANN). May death seal thy accursed lips! Art thou come here to give the deathblow to our father? Father! Amelia! father! HERMANN. It was the last wish of my expiring comrade. \"Take this sword,\" faltered he, with his dying breath, \"deliver it to my aged father; his son's blood is upon ithe is avengedlet him rejoice. Tell him that his curse drove me into battle and into death; that I fell in despair.\" His last sigh was \"Amelia.\" AMELIA (like one aroused from lethargy). His last sighAmelia! OLD M. (screaming horribly, and tearing his hair). My curse drove him into death! He fell in despair! FRANCIS (pacing up and down the room). Oh! what have you done, father? My Charles! my brother! HERMANN. Here is the sword; and here, too, is a picture which he drew from his breast at the same time. It is the very image of this young lady. \"This for my brother Francis,\" he said; I know not what he meant by it. FRANCIS (feigning astonishment). For me? Amelia's picture? For me CharlesAmelia? For me? AMELIA (rushing violently upon HERMANN). Thou venal, bribed impostor! (Lays hold of him.) HERMANN. I am no impostor, noble lady. See yourself if it is not your picture. It may be that you yourself gave it to him. FRANCIS. By heaven, Amelia! your picture! It is, indeed. AMELIA (returns him the picture) My picture, mine! Oh! heavens and earth! OLD M. (screaming and tearing his face.) Woe, woe! my curse drove him into death! He fell in despair! FRANCIS. And he thought of me in the last and parting hourof me. Angelic soul! When the black banner of death already waved over him he thought of me! OLD M. (stammering like an idiot.) My curse drove him into death. In despair my son perished. HERMANN. This is more than I can bear! Farewell, old gentleman! (Aside to FRANCIS.) How could you have the heart to do this? Exit in haste. AMELIA (rises and rushes after him). Stay! stay! What were his last words? HERMANN (calling back). His last sigh was \"Amelia.\" Exit. AMELIA. His last sigh was Amelia! No, thou art no impostor. It is too truetruehe is deaddead! (staggering to and fro till she sinks down)deadCharles is dead! FRANCIS. What do I see? What is this line on the sword?written with bloodAmelia! AMELIA. By him? FRANCIS. Do I see clearly, or am I dreaming? Behold, in characters of blood, \"Francis, forsake not my Amelia.\" And on the other side, \"Amelia, allpowerful death has released thee from thy oath.\" Now do you seedo you see? With hand stiffening in death he wrote it, with his warm life's blood he wrote itwrote it on the solemn brink of eternity. His spirit lingered in his flight to unite Francis and Amelia. AMELIA. Gracious heaven! it is his own hand. He never loved me. Rushes off FRANCIS (stamping the ground). Confusion! her stubborn heart foils all my cunning! OLD MOOR. Woe, woe! forsake me not, my daughter! Francis, Francis! give me back my son! FRANCIS. Who was it that cursed him? Who was it that drove his son into battle, and death, and despair? Oh, he was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse on his destroyers! A curse, a curse upon yourself! OLD MOOR (strikes his breast and forehead with his clenched fist). He was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse, a curse, perdition, a curse on myself! I am the father who slew his noble son! He loved me even to death! To expiate my vengeance he rushed into battle and into death! Monster, monster that I am! (He rages against himself.) FRANCIS. He is gone. What avail these tardy lamentations? (with a satanic sneer.) It is easier to murder than to restore to life. You will never bring him back from his grave. OLD Moon. Never, never, never bring him back from the grave! Gone! lost for ever! And you it was that beguiled my heart to curse him. youyouGive me back my son! FRANCIS. Rouse not my fury, lest I forsake you even in the hour of death! OLD MOOR. Monster! inhuman monster! Restore my son to me. (Starts from the chair and attempts to catch FRANCIS by the throat, who flings him back.) FRANCIS. Feeble old dotard I would you dare? Die! despair! Exit. OLD MOOR. May the thunder of a thousand curses light upon thee! thou hast robbed me of my son. (Throwing himself about in his chair full of despair). Alas! alas! to despair and yet not die. They fly, they forsake me in death; my guardian angels fly from me; all the saints withdraw from the hoary murderer. Oh, misery! will no one support this head, no one release this struggling soul? No son, no daughter, no friend, not one human beingwill no one? Aloneforsaken. Woe, woe! To despair, yet not to die! Enter AMELIA, her eyes red with weeping. OLD MOOR. Amelia! messenger of heaven! Art thou come to release my soul? AMELIA (in a gentle tone). You have lost a noble son. OLD MOOR. Murdered him, you mean. With the weight of this impeachment I shall present myself before the judgmentseat of God. AMELIA. Not so, old man! Our heavenly Father has taken him to himself. We should have been too happy in this world. Above, above, beyond the stars, we shall meet again. OLD MOOR. Meet again! Meet again! Oh! it will pierce my soul like a Swordshould I, a saint, meet him among the saints. In the midst of heaven the horrors of hell will strike through me! The remembrance of that deed will crush me in the presence of the Eternal: I have murdered my son! AMELIA. Oh, his smiles will chase away the bitter remembrance from your soul! Cheer up, dear father! I am quite cheerful. Has he not already sung the name of Amelia to listening angels on seraphic harps, and has not heaven's choir sweetly echoed it? Was not his last sigh, Amelia? And will not Amelia be his first accent of joy? OLD MOOR. Heavenly consolation flows from your lips! He will smile upon me, you say? He will forgive me? You must stay with my beloved of my Charles, when I die. AMELIA. To die is to fly to his arms. Oh, how happy and enviable is your lot! Would that my bones were decayed!that my hairs were gray! Woe upon the vigor of youth! Welcome, decrepid age, nearer to heaven and my Charles! Enter FRANCIS. OLD MOOR. Come near, my son! Forgive me if I spoke too harshly to you just now! I forgive you all. I wish to yield up my spirit in peace. FRANCIS. Have you done weeping for your son? For aught that I see you had but one. OLD MOOR. Jacob had twelve sons, but for his Joseph he wept tears of blood. FRANCIS. Hum! OLD MOOR. Bring the Bible, my daughter, and read to me the story of Jacob and Joseph! It always appeared to me so touching, even before I myself became a Jacob. AMELIA. What part shall I read to you? (Takes the Bible and turns over the leaves.) OLD MOOR. Read to me the grief of the bereaved father, when he found his Joseph no more among his children;when he sought him in vain amidst his eleven sons;and his lamentation when he heard that he was taken from him forever. AMELIA (reads). \"And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a kid of the goats, and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of many colors, and they brought it to their father, and said, 'This have we found: know now whether it be thy son's coat or no.' (Exit FRANCIS suddenly.) And he knew it and said, 'It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.'\" OLD MOOR (falls back upon the pillow). An evil beast hath devoured Joseph! AMELIA (continues reading). \"And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days. And all his sons and all his daughters rose up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted, and he said, 'For I will go down into the grave'\" OLD MOOR. Leave off! leave off. I feel very ill. AMELIA (running towards him, lets fall the book). Heaven help us! What is this? OLD MOOR. It is deathdarknessis wavingbefore my eyesI pray theesend for the ministerthat he maygive methe Holy Communion. Where ismy son Francis? AMELIA. He is fled. God have mercy upon us! OLD MOOR. Fledfled from his father's deathbed? And is that allall of two children full of promisethou hast giventhou hasttaken awaythy name be AMELIA (with a sudden cry). Dead! both dead! Exit in despair. Enter FRANCIS, dancing with joy. FRANCIS. Dead, they cry, dead! Now am I master. Through the whole castle it rings, dead! but stay, perchance he only sleeps? To be sure, yes, to be sure! that certainly is a sleep after which no \"goodmorrow\" is ever said. Sleep and death are but twinbrothers. We will for once change their names! Excellent, welcome sleep! We will call thee death! (He closes the eyes of OLD MOOR.) Who now will come forward and dare to accuse me at the bar of justice, or tell me to my face, thou art a villain? Away, then, with this troublesome mask of humility and virtue! Now you shall see Francis as he is, and tremble! My father was overgentle in his demands, turned his domain into a familycircle, sat blandly smiling at the gate, and saluted his peasants as brethren and children. My brows shall lower upon you like thunderclouds; my lordly name shall hover over you like a threatening comet over the mountains; my forehead shall be your weatherglass! He would caress and fondle the child that lifted its stubborn head against him. But fondling and caressing is not my mode. I will drive the rowels of the spur into their flesh, and give the scourge a trial. Under my rule it shall be brought to pass that potatoes and smallbeer shall be considered a holiday treat; and woe to him who meets my eye with the audacious front of health. Haggard want and crouching fear are my insignia; and in this livery I will clothe ye. Exit. SCENE III.THE BOHEMIAN WOODS. SPIEGELBERG, RAZMAN, A Troop Of ROBBERS. RAZ. Are you come? Is it really you? Oh, let me squeeze thee into a jelly, my dear heart's brother! Welcome to the Bohemian forests! Why, you are grown quite stout and jolly! You have brought us recruits in right earnest, a little army of them; you are the very prince of crimps. SPIEGEL. Eh, brother? Eli? And proper fellows they are! You must confess the blessing of heaven is visibly upon me; I was a poor, hungry wretch, and had nothing but this staff when I went over the Jordan, and now there are eightandseventy of us, mostly ruined shopkeepers, rejected masters of arts, and lawclerks from the Swabian provinces. They are a rare set of fellows, brother, capital fellows, I promise you; they will steal you the very buttons off each other's trousers in perfect security, although in the teeth of a loaded musket, and they live in clover and enjoy a reputation for forty miles round, which is quite astonishing. The acting edition reads, \"Hang your hat up in the sun, and I'll take you a wager it's gone the next minute, as clean out of sight as if the devil himself had walked off with it.\" There is not a newspaper in which you will not find some little feat or other of that cunning fellow, Spiegelberg; I take in the papers for nothing else; they have described me from head to foot; you would think you saw me; they have not forgotten even my coatbuttons. But we lead them gloriously by the nose. The other day I went to the printingoffice and pretended that I had seen the famous Spiegelberg, dictated to a pennyaliner who was sitting there the exact image of a quack doctor in the town; the matter gets wind, the fellow is arrested, put to the rack, and in his anguish and stupidity he confesses the devil take me if he does notconfesses that he is Spiegelberg. Fire and fury! I was on the point of giving myself up to a magistrate rather than have my fair fame marred by such a poltroon; however, within three months he was hanged. I was obliged to stuff a right good pinch of snuff into my nose as some time afterwards I was passing the gibbet and saw the pseudoSpiegelberg parading there in all his glory; and, while Spiegelberg's representative is dangling by the neck, the real Spiegelberg very quietly slips himself out of the noose, and makes jolly long noses behind the backs of these sagacious wiseacres of the law. RAZ. (laughing). You are still the same fellow you always were. SPIEGEL. Ay, sure! body and soul. But I must tell you a bit of fun, my boy, which I had the other day in the nunnery of St. Austin. We fell in with the convent just about sunset; and as I had not fired a single cartridge all day,you know I hate the diem perdidi as I hate death itself,I was determined to immortalize the night by some glorious exploit, even though it should cost the devil one of his ears! We kept quite quiet till late in the night. At last all is as still as a mouse the lights are extinguished. We fancy the nuns must be comfortably tucked up. So I take brother Grimm along with me, and order the others to wait at the gate till they hear my whistleI secure the watchman, take the keys from him, creep into the maidservants' dormitory, take. away all their clothes, and whisk the bundle out at the window. We go on from cell to cell, take away the clothes of one sister after another, and lastly those of the ladyabbess herself. Then I sound my whistle, and my fellows outside begin to storm and halloo as if doomsday was at hand, and away they rush with the devil's own uproar into the cells of the sisters! Ha, ha, ha! You should have seen the gamehow the poor creatures were groping about in the dark for their petticoats, and how they took on when they found they were gone; and we, in the meantime, at 'em like very devils; and now, terrified and amazed, they wriggled under their bedclothes, or cowered together like cats behind the stoves. There was such shrieking and lamentation; and then the old beldame of an abbessyou know, brother, there is nothing in the world I hate so much as a spider and an old womanso you may just fancy that wrinkled old hag standing naked before me, conjuring me by her maiden modesty forsooth! Well, I was determined to make short work of it; either, said I, out with your plate and your convent jewels and all your shining dollars, ormy fellows knew what I meant. The end of it was I brought away more than a thousand dollars' worth out of the convent, to say nothing of the fun, which will tell its own story in due time. RAZ. (stamping on the ground). Hang it, that I should be absent on such an occasion. SPIEGEL. Do you see? Now tell me, is not that life? 'Tis that which keeps one fresh and hale, and braces the body so that it swells hourly like an abbot's paunch; I don't know, but I think I must be endowed with some magnetic property, which attracts all the vagabonds on the face of the earth towards me like steel and iron. RAZ. A precious magnet, indeed. But I should like to know, I'll be hanged if I shouldn't, what witchcraft you use? SPIEGEL. Witchcraft? No need of witchcraft. All it wants is a heada certain practical capacity which, of course, is not taken in with every spoonful of barley meal; for you know I have always said that an honest man may be carved out of any willow stump, but to make a rogue you must have brains; besides which it requires a national geniusa certain rascalclimateso to speak. In the first (and suppressed) edition was added, \"Go to the Grisons, for instance; that is what I call the thief's Athens.\" This obnoxious passage has been carefully expunged from all the subsequent editions. It gave mortal offence to the Grison magistrates, who made a formal complaint of the insult and caused Schiller to be severely rebuked by the Grand Duke. This incident forms one of the epochs in our author's history. RAZ. Brother, I have heard Italy celebrated for its artists. SPIEGEL. Yes, yes! Give the devil his due. Italy makes a very noble figure; and if Germany goes on as it has begun, and if the Bible gets fairly kicked out, of which there is every prospect, Germany, too, may in time arrive at something respectable; but I should tell you that climate does not, after all, do such a wonderful deal; genius thrives everywhere; and as for the rest, brother, a crab, you know, will never become a pineapple, not even in Paradise. But to pursue our subject, where did I leave off? RAZ. You were going to tell me about your stratagems. SPIEGEL. Ah, yes! my stratagems. Well, when you get into a town, the first thing is to fish out from the beadles, watchmen, and turnkeys, who are their best customers, and for these, accordingly, you must look out; then ensconce yourself snugly in coffeehouses, brothels, and beershops, and observe who cry out most against the cheapness of the times, the reduced five per cents., and the increasing nuisance of police regulations; who rail the loudest against government, or decry physiognomical science, and such like? These are the right sort of fellows, brother. Their honesty is as loose as a hollow tooth; you have only to apply your pincers. Or a shorter and even better plan is to drop a full purse in the public highway, conceal yourself somewhere near, and mark who finds it. Presently after you come running up, search, proclaim your loss aloud, and ask him, as it were casually, \"Have you perchance picked up a purse, sir?\" If he says \"Yes,\" why then the devil fails you. But if he denies it, with a \"pardon me, sir, I remember, I am sorry, sir,\" (he jumps up), then, brother, you've done the trick. Extinguish your lantern, cunning Diogenes, you have found your match. RAZ. You are an accomplished practitioner. SPIEGEL. My God! As if that had ever been doubted. Well, then, when you have got your man into the net, you must take great care to land him cleverly. You see, my son, the way I have managed is thus: as soon as I was on the scent I stuck to my candidate like a leech; I drank brotherhood with him, and, nota bene, you must always pay the score. That costs a pretty penny, it is true, but never mind that. You must go further; introduce him to gaminghouses and brothels; entangle him in broils and rogueries till he becomes bankrupt in health and strength, in purse, conscience, and reputation; for I must tell you, by the way, that you will make nothing of it unless you ruin both body and soul. Believe me, brother, and I have experienced it more than fifty times in my extensive practice, that when the honest man is once ousted from his stronghold, the devil has it all his own waythe transition is then as easy as from a whore to a devotee. But hark! What bang was that? RAZ. It was thunder; go on. SPIEGEL. Or, there is a yet shorter and still better way. You strip your man of all he has, even to his very shirt, and then he will come to you of his own accord; you won't teach me to suck eggs, brother; ask that copperfaced fellow there. My eyes, how neatly I got him into my meshes. I showed him forty ducats, which I promised to give him if he would bring me an impression in wax of his master's keys. Only think, the stupid brute not only does this, but actually brings meI'll be hanged if he did notthe keys themselves; and then thinks to get the money. \"Sirrah,\" said I, \"are you aware that I am going to carry these keys straight to the lieutenant of police, and to bespeak a place for you on the gibbet?\" By the powers! you should have seen how the simpleton opened his eyes, and began to shake from head to foot like a dripping poodle. \"For heaven's sake, sir, do but consider. I will will\" \"What will you? Will you at once cut your stick and go to the devil with me?\" \"Oh, with all my heart, with great pleasure.\" Ha! ha! ha! my fine fellow; toasted cheese is the thing to catch mice with; do have a good laugh at him, Razman; ha! ha! ha! RAZ. Yes, yes, I must confess. I shall inscribe that lesson in letters of gold upon the tablet of my brain. Satan must know his people right well to have chosen you for his factor. SPIEGEL. Eh, brother? Eli? And if I help him to half a score of fellows he will, of course, let me off scotfreepublishers, you know, always give one copy in ten gratis to those who collect subscribers for them; why should the devil be more of a Jew? Razman, I smell powder. RAZ. Zounds! I smelt it long ago. You may depend upon it there has being something going forward hereabouts. Yes, yes! I can tell you, Spiegelberg, you will be welcome to our captain with your recruits; he, too, has got hold of some brave fellows. SPIEGEL. But look at mine! at mine here, bah! RAZ. Well, well! they may be tolerably expert in the finger department, but, I tell you, the fame of our captain has tempted even some honorable men to join his staff. SPIEGEL. So much the worse. RAZ. Without joking. And they are not ashamed to serve under such a leader. He does not commit murder as we do for the sake of plunder; and as to money, as soon as he had plenty of it at command, he did not seem to care a straw for it; and his third of the booty, which belongs to him of right, he gives away to orphans, or supports promising young men with it at college. But should he happen to get a country squire into his clutches who grinds down his peasants like cattle, or some goldlaced villain, who warps the law to his own purposes, and hoodwinks the eyes of justice with his gold, or any chap of that kidney; then, my boy, he is in his element, and rages like a very devil, as if every fibre in his body were a fury. SPIEGEL. Humph! RAZ. The other day we were told at a tavern that a rich count from Ratisbon was about to pass through, who had gained the day in a suit worth a million of money by the craftiness of his lawyer. The captain was just sitting down to a game of backgammon. \"How many of us are there?\" said he to me, rising in haste. I saw him bite his nether lip, which he never does except when he is very determined. \"Not more than five,\" I replied. \"That's enough,\" he said; threw his score on the table, left the wine he had ordered untouched, and off we went. The whole time he did not utter a syllable, but walked aloof and alone, only asking us from time to time whether we heard anything, and now and then desiring us to lay our ears to the ground. At last the count came in sight, his carriage heavily laden, the lawyer, seated by his side, an outrider in advance, and two horsemen riding behind. Then you should have seen the man. With a pistol in each hand he ran before us to the carriage,and the voice with which he thundered, \"Halt!\" The coachman, who would not halt, was soon toppled from his box; the count fired out of the carriage and missedthe horseman fled. \"Your money, rascal!\" cried Moor, with his stentorian voice. The count lay like a bullock under the axe: \"And are you the rogue who turns justice into a venal prostitute?\" The lawyer shook till his teeth chattered again; and a dagger soon stuck in his body, like a stake in a vineyard. \"I have done my part,\" cried the captain, turning proudly away; \"the plunder is your affair.\" And with this he vanished into the forest. SPIEGEL. Hum! hum! Brother, what I told you just now remains between ourselves; there is no occasion for his knowing it. You understand me? RAZ. Yes, yes, I understand! SPIEGEL. You know the man! He has his own notions! You understand me? RAZ. Oh, I quite understand. (Enter SCHWARZ at full speed). Who's there? What is the matter? Any travellers in the forest? SCHWARZ. Quick, quick! Where are the others? Zounds! there you stand gossiping! Don't you knowdo you know nothing of it?that poor Roller PAZ. What of him? What of him? SCHWARZ. He's hanged, that's all, and four others with him RAz. Roller hanged? S'death! when? How do you know? SCHWARZ. He has been in limbo more than three weeks, and we knew nothing of it. He was brought up for examination three several days, and still we heard nothing. They put him to the rack to make him tell where the captain was to be foundbut the brave fellow would not slip. Yesterday he got his sentence, and this morning was dispatched express to the devil! RAZ. Confound it! Does the captain know? SCHWARZ. He heard of it only yesterday. He foamed like a wild boar. You know that Roller was always an especial favorite; and then the rack! Ropes and scalingladders were conveyed to the prison, but in vain. Moor himself got access to him disguised as a Capuchin monk, and proposed to change clothes with him; but Roller absolutely refused; whereupon the captain swore an oath that made our very flesh creep. He vowed that he would light a funeral pile for him, such as had never yet graced the bier of royalty, one that should burn them all to cinders. I fear for the city. He has long owed it a grudge for its intolerable bigotry; and you know, when he says, \"I'll do it,\" the thing is as good as done. RAZ. That is true! I know the captain. If he had pledged his word to the devil to go to hell he never would pray again, though half a paternoster would take him to heaven. Alas! poor Roller!poor Roller! SPIEGEL. Memento mori! But it does not concern me. (Hums a tune). Should I happen to pass the gallows stone, I shall just take a sight with one eye, And think to myself, you may dangle alone, Who now, sir, 's the fool, you or I? RAZ. (Jumping up). Hark! a shot! (Firing and noise is heard behind the scenes). SPIEGEL. Another! RAZ. And another! The captain! (Voices behind the scenes are heard singing). The Nurnbergers deem it the wisest plan, Never to hang till they've caught their man. Da capo. SCHWEITZER and ROLLER (behind the scenes). Holla, ho! Holla, ho! RAZ. Roller! by all the devils! Roller! SCHWEITZER and ROLLER (still behind the scenes). Razman! Schwarz! Spiegelberg! Razman! RAZ. Roller! Schweitzer! Thunder and lightning! Fire and fury! (They run towards him.) Enter CHARLES VON MOOR (on horseback), SCHWEITZER, ROLLER, GRIMM, SCHUFTERLE, and a troop of ROBBERS covered with dust and mud. CHARLES (leaping from his horse) Liberty! Liberty!Thou art on terra firma, Roller! Take my horse, Schweitzer, and wash him with wine. (Throws himself on the ground.) That was hot work! RAZ. (to ROLLER). Well, by the fires of Pluto! Art thou risen from the wheel? SCHWARZ. Art thou his ghost? or am I a fool? or art thou really the man? ROLLER (still breathless). The identicalalivewhole.Where do you think I come from? SCHWARZ. It would puzzle a witch to tell! The staff was already broken over you. ROLLER. Ay, that it was, and more than that! I come straightway from the gallows. Only let me get my breath. Schweitzer will tell you all. Give me a glass of brandy! You there too, Spiegelberg! I thought we should have met again in another place. But give me a glass of brandy! my bones are tumbling to pieces. Oh, my captain! Where is my captain? SCHWARZ. Have patience, man, have patience. Just tell mesaycome, let's hearhow did you escape? In the name of wonder how came we to get you back again? My brain is bewildered. From the gallows, you say? ROLLER (swallows a flask of brandy). Ah, that is capital! that warms the inside! Straight from the gallows, I tell you. You stand there amid stare as if that was impossible. I can assure you, I was not more than three paces from that blessed ladder, on which I was to mount to Abraham's bosomso near, so very near, that I was sold, skin and all, to the dissectingroom! The feesimple of my life was not worth a pinch of snuff. To the captain I am indebted for breath, and liberty, and life. SCHWEITZER. It was a trick worth the telling. We had heard the day before, through our spies, that Roller was in the devil's own pickle; and unless the vault of heaven fell in suddenly he would, on the morrow that is, todaygo the way of all flesh. Up! says the captain, and follow mewhat is not a friend worth? Whether we save him or not, we will at least light him up a funeral pile such as never yet honored royalty; one which shall burn them black and blue. The whole troop was summoned. We sent Roller a trusty messenger, who conveyed the notice to him in a little billet, which he slipped into his porridge. ROLLER. I had but small hope of success. SCHWEITZER. We waited till the thoroughfares were clear. The whole town was out after the sight; equestrians, pedestrians, carriages, all pellmell; the noise and the gibbetpsalm sounded far and wide. Now, says the captain, light up, light up! We all flew like darts; they set fire to the city in threeandthirty places at once; threw burning firebrands on the powdermagazine, and into the churches and granaries. Morbleu! in less than a quarter of an hour a northeaster, which, like us, must have owed a grudge to the city, came seasonably to our aid, and helped to lift the flames up to the highest gables. Meanwhile we ran up and down the streets like furies, crying, fire! ho! fire! ho! in every direction. There was such howlingscreamingtumultfirebells tolling. And presently the powdermagazine blew up into the air with a crash as if the earth were rent in twain, heaven burst to shivers, and hell sunk ten thousand fathoms deeper. ROLLER. Now my guards looked behind themthere lay the city, like Sodom and Gomorrahthe whole horizon was one mass of fire, brimstone, and smoke; and forty hills echoed and reflected the infernal prank far and wide. A panic seized them allI take advantage of the moment, and, quick as lightningmy fetters had been taken off, so nearly was my time comewhile my guards were looking away petrified, like Lot's wife, I shot offtore through the crowdand away! After running some sixty paces I throw off my clothes, plunge into the river, and swim along under water till I think they have lost sight of me. My captain stood ready, with horses and clothesand here I am. Moor! Moor! I only wish that you may soon get into just such another scrape that I may requite you in like manner. RAZ. A brutal wish, for which you deserve to be hanged. It was a glorious prank, though. ROLLER. It was help in need; you cannot judge of it. You should have marched, like me, with a rope round your neck, travelling to your grave in the living body, and seen their horrid sacramental forms and hangman's ceremoniesand then, at every reluctant step, as the struggling feet were thrust forward, to see the infernal machine, on which I was to be elevated, glaring more and more hideously in the blaze of a noonday sunand the hangman's rapscallions watching for their prey and the horrible psalmsingingthe cursed twang still rings in my earsand the screeching hungry ravens, a whole flight of them, who were hovering over the halfrotten carcass of my predecessor. To see all thisay, more, to have a foretaste of the blessedness which was in store for me! Brother, brother! And then, all of a sudden, the signal of deliverance. It was an explosion as if the vault of heaven were rent in twain. Hark ye, fellows! I tell you, if a man were to leap out of a fiery furnace into a freezing lake he could not feel the contrast half so strongly as I did when I gained the opposite shore. SPIEGEL. (Laughs.) Poor wretch! Well, you have got over it. (Pledges him). Here's to a happy regeneration! ROLLER (flings away his glass). No, by all the treasures of Mammon, I should not like to go through it a second time. Death is something more than a harlequin's leap, and its terrors are even worse than death itself. SPIEGEL. And the powdermagazine leaping into the air! Don't you see it now, Razman? That was the reason the air stunk so, for miles round, of brimstone, as if the whole wardrobe of Moloch was being aired under the open firmament. It was a masterstroke, captain! I envy you for it. SCHWEITZER. If the town makes it a holidaytreat to see our comrade killed by a baited hog, why the devil should we scruple to sacrifice the city for the rescue of our comrade? And, by the way, our fellows had the extra treat of being able to plunder worse than the old emperor. Tell me, what have you sacked? ONE OF THE TROOP. I crept into St. Stephen's church during the hubbub, and tore the gold lace from the altarcloth. The patron saint, thought I to myself, can make gold lace out of packthread. SCHWEITZER. 'Twas well done. What is the use of such rubbish in a church? They offer it to the Creator, who despises such trumpery, while they leave his creatures to die of hunger. And you, Sprazelerwhere did you throw your net? A SECOND. I and Brizal broke into a merchant's store, and have brought stuffs enough with us to serve fifty men. A THIRD. I have filched two gold watches and a dozen silver spoons. SCHWEITZER. Well done, well done! And we have lighted them a bonfire that will take a fortnight to put out again. And, to get rid of the fire, they must ruin the city with water. Do you know, Schufterle, how many lives have been lost? SCHUF. Eightythree, they say. The powdermagazine alone blew threescore to atoms. CHARLES (very seriously). Roller, thou art dearly bought. SCHUF. Bah! bah! What of that? If they had but been men it would have been another matterbut they were babes in swaddling clothes, and shrivelled old nurses that kept the flies from them, and driedup stovesquatters who could not crawl to the doorpatients whining for the doctor, who, with his stately gravity, was marching to the sport. All that had the use of their legs had gone forth in the sight, and nothing remained at home but the dregs of the city. CHARLES. Alas for the poor creatures! Sick people, sayest thou, old men and infants? SCHUF. Ay, the devil go with them! And lyinginwomen into the bargain; and women far gone with child, who were afraid of miscarrying under the gibbet; and young mothers, who thought the sight might do them a mischief, and mark the gallows upon the foreheads of their unborn babespoor poets, without a shoe, because their only pair had been sent to the cobbler to mendand other such vermin, not worth the trouble of mentioning. As I chanced to pass by a cottage I heard a great squalling inside. I looked in; and, when I came to examine, what do you think it was? Why, an infanta plump and ruddy urchinlying on the floor under a table which was just beginning to burn. Poor little wretch! said I, you will be cold there, and with that I threw it into the flames! CHARLES. Indeed, Schufterle? Then may those flames burn in thy bosom to all eternity! Avaunt, monster! Never let me see thee again in my troop! What! Do you murmur? Do you hesitate? Who dares hesitate when I command? Away with him, I say! And there are others among you ripe for my vengeance. I know thee, Spiegelberg. But I will step in among you ere long, and hold a fearful musterroll. Exeunt, trembling. CHARLES (alone, walking up and down in great agitation). Hear them not, thou avenger in heaven! How can I avert it? Art thou to blame, great God, if thy engines, pestilence, and famine, and floods, overwhelm the just with the unjust? Who can stay the flame, which is kindled to destroy the hornet's nest, from extending to the blessed harvest? Oh! fie on the slaughter of women, and children, and the sick! How this deed weighs me down! It has poisoned my fairest achievements! There he stands, poor fool, abashed and disgraced in the sight of heaven; the boy that presumed to wield Jove's thunder, and overthrew pigmies when he should have crushed Titans. Go, go! 'tis not for thee, puny son of clay, to wield the avenging sword of sovereign justice! Thou didst fail at thy first essay. Here, then, I renounce the audacious scheme. I go to hide myself in some deep cleft of the earth, where no daylight will be witness of my shame. (He is about to fly.) Enter a ROBBER hurriedly. ROBBER. Look out, captain! There is mischief in the wind! Whole detachments of Bohemian cavalry are scouring the forests. That infernal bailiff must have betrayed us. Enter more ROBBERS. 2D ROBBER. Captain! captain! they have tracked us! Some thousands of them are forming a cordon round the middle forest. Enter more ROBBERS again. 3D ROBBER. Woe, woe, woe! we are all taken, hanged drawn, and quartered. Thousands of hussars, dragoons, and chasseurs are mustering on the heights, and guard all the passes. Exit CHARLES VON MOOR. Enter SCHWEITZER, GRIMM, ROLLER, SCHWARZ, SCHUFTERLE, SPIEGELBERG, RAZMAN, and the whole troop. SCHWEITZER. Ha! Have we routed them out of their featherbeds at last? Come, be jolly, Roller! I have long wished to have a bout with those knights of the breadbasket. Where is the captain? Is the whole troop assembled? I hope we have powder enough? RAZ. Powder, I believe you; but we are only eighty in all and therefore scarcely one to twenty. SCHWEITZER. So much the better! And though there were fifty against my great toenailfellows who have waited till we lit the straw under their very seats. Brother, brother, there is nothing to fear. They sell their lives for tenpence; and are we not fighting for our necks? We will pour into them like a deluge, and fire volleys upon their heads like crashes of thunder. But where the devil is the captain. SPIEGEL. He forsakes us in this extremity. Is there no hope of escape? SCHWEITZER. Escape? SPIEGEL. Oh, that I had tarried in Jerusalem! SCHWEITZER. I wish you were choked in a cesspool, you paltry coward! With defenceless nuns you are a mighty man; but at sight of a pair of fists a confirmed sneak! Now show your courage or you shall be sewn up alive in an ass's hide and baited to death with dogs. RAZ. The captain! the captain! Enter CHARLES (speaking slowly to himself). CHARLES. I have allowed them to be hemmed in on every side. Now they must fight with the energy of despair. (Aloud.) Now my boys! now for it! We must fight like wounded boars, or we are utterly lost! SCHWEITZER. Ha! I'll rip them open with my tusks, till their entrails protrude by the yard! Lead on, captain! we will follow you into the very jaws of death. CHARLES. Charge all your arms! You've plenty of powder, I hope? SCHWEITZER (with energy). Powder? ay, enough to blow the earth up to the moon. RAZ. Every one of us has five brace of pistols, ready loaded, and three carbines to boot. CHARLES. Good! good! Now some of you must climb up the trees, or conceal yourselves in the thickets, and some fire upon them in ambush SCHWEITZER. That part will suit you, Spiegelberg. CHARLES. The rest will follow me, and fall upon their flanks like furies. SCHWEITZER. There will I be! CHARLES. At the same time let every man make his whistle ring through the forest, and gallop about in every direction, so that our numbers may appear the more formidable. And let all the dogs be unchained, and set on upon their ranks, that they may be broken and dispersed and run in the way of our fire. We three, Roller, Schweitzer, and myself, will fight wherever the fray is hottest. SCHWEITZER. Masterly! excellent! We will so bewilder them with balls that they shall not know whence the salutes are coming. I have more than once shot away a cherry from the mouth. Only let them come on (SCHUFTERLE is pulling SCHWEITZER; the latter takes the captain aside, and entreats him in a low voice.) CHARLES. Silence! SCHWEITZER. I entreat you CHARLES. Away! Let him have the benefit of his disgrace; it has saved him. He shall not die on the same field with myself, my Schweitzer, and my Roller. Let him change his apparel, and I will say he is a traveller whom I have plundered. Make yourself easy, Schweitzer. Take my word for it he will be hanged yet. Enter FATHER DOMINIC. FATHER DOM. (to himself, starts). Is this the dragon's nest? With your leave, sirs! I am a servant of the church; and yonder are seventeen hundred men who guard every hair of my head. SCHWEITZER. Bravo! bravo! Well spoken to keep his courage warm. CHARLES. Silence, comrade! Will you tell us briefly, good father, what is your errand here? FATHER Dom. I am delegated by the high justices, on whose sentence hangs life or deathye thievesye incendiariesye villainsye venomous generation of vipers, crawling about in the dark, and stinging in secretye refuse of humanitybrood of hellfood for ravens and wormscolonists for the gallows and the wheel SCHWEITZER. Dog! a truce with your foul tongue! or  (He holds the buttend of his gun before FATHER DOMINIC'S face.) CHARLES. Fie, fie, Schweitzer! You cut the thread of his discourse. He has got his sermon so nicely by heart. Pray go on, Sir! \"for the gallows and the wheel?\" FATHER Dom. And thou, their precious captain!commanderinchief of cutpurses!king of sharpers! Grand Mogul of all the rogues under the sun!great prototype of that first hellish ringleader who imbued a thousand legions of innocent angels with the flame of rebellion, and drew them down with him into the bottomless pit of damnation! The agonizing cries of bereaved mothers pursue thy footsteps! Thou drinkest blood like water! and thy murderous knife holds men cheaper than airbubbles! CHARLES. Very trueexceedingly true! Pray proceed, Sir! FATHER DOM. What do you mean? Very trueexceedingly true! Is that an answer? CHARLES. How, Sir? You were not prepared for that, it seems? Go on by all means go on. What more were you going to say? FATHER DOM. (heated). Abominable wretch! Avaunt! Does not the blood of a murdered count of the empire cling to thy accursed fingers? Hast thou not, with sacrilegious hands, dared to break into the Lord's sanctuary, and carry off the consecrated vessels of the sanctissimum? Hast thou not flung firebrands into our godly city, and brought down the powdermagazine upon the heads of devout Christians? (Clasps his hands). Horrible, horrible wickedness! that stinketh in the nostrils of Heaven, and provoketh the day of judgment to burst upon you suddenly! ripe for retributionrushing headlong to the last trump! CHARLES. Masterly guesses thus far! But now, sir, to the point! What is it that the right worshipful justices wish to convey to me through you? FATHER Dom. What you are not worthy to receive. Look around you, incendiary! As far as your eye can reach you are environed by our horsementhere is no chance of escape. As surely as cherries grow on these oaks, and peaches on these firs, so surely shall you turn your backs upon these oaks and these firs in safety. CHARLES. Do you hear that, Schweitzer? But go on! FATHER DOM. Hear, then, what mercy and forbearance justice shows towards such miscreants. If you instantly prostrate yourselves in submission and sue for mercy and forgiveness, then severity itself will relent to compassion, and justice be to thee an indulgent mother. She will shut one eye upon your horrible crimes, and be satisfiedonly think!to let you be broken on the wheel. SCHWEITZER. Did you hear that, captain? Shall I throttle this welltrained shepherd's cur till the red blood spurts from every pore? ROLLER. Captain! Fire and fury! Captain! How he bites his lip! Shall I topple this fellow upside down like a ninepin? SCHWEITZER. Mine, mine be the job! Let me kneel to you, captain; let me implore you! I beseech you to grant me the delight of pounding him to a jelly! (FATHER DOMINIC screams.) CHARLES. Touch him not! Let no one lay a finger on him!(To FATHER DOMINIC, drawing his sword.) Hark ye, sir father! Here stand nineandseventy men, of whom I am the captain, and not one of them has been taught to trot at a signal, or learned to dance to the music of artillery; while yonder stand seventeen hundred men grown gray under the musket. But now listen! Thus says Moor, the captain of incendiaries. It is true I have slain a count of the empire, burnt and plundered the church of St. Dominic, flung firebrands into your bigoted city, and brought down the powdermagazine upon the heads of devout Christians. But that is not all,I have done more. (He holds out his right hand.) Do you observe these four costly rings, one on each finger? Go and report punctually to their worships, on whose sentence hangs life or death what you shall hear and see. This ruby I drew from the finger of a minister, whom I stretched at the feet of his prince, during the chase. He had fawned himself up from the lowest dregs, to be the first favorite;the ruin of his neighbor was his ladder to greatnessorphans' tears helped him to mount it. This diamond I took from a lord treasurer, who sold offices of honor and trust to the highest bidder, and drove the sorrowing patriot from his door. This opal I wear in honor of a priest of your cloth, whom I dispatched with my own hand, after he had publicly deplored in his pulpit the waning power of the Inquisition. I could tell you more stories about my rings, but that I repent the words I have already wasted upon you FATHER DOM. O Pharaoh! Pharaoh! CHARLES. Do you hear it? Did you mark that sigh? Does he not stand there as if he were imploring fire from heaven to descend and destroy this troop of Korah? He pronounces judgment with a shrug of the shoulders, and eternal damnation with a Christian \"Alas!\" Is it possible for humanity to be so utterly blind? He who has the hundred eyes of Argus to spy out the faults of his brothercan he be so totally blind to his own? They thunder forth from their clouds about gentleness and forbearance, while they sacrifice human victims to the God of love as if he were the fiery Moloch. They preach the love of one's neighbor, while they drive the aged and blind with curses from their door. They rave against covetousness; yet for the sake of gold they have depopulated Peru, and yoked the natives, like cattle, to their chariots. They rack their brains in wonder to account for the creation of a Judas Iscariot, yet the best of them would betray the whole Trinity for ten shekels. Out upon you, Pharisees! ye falsifiers of truth! ye apes of Deity! You are not ashamed to kneel before crucifixes and altars; you lacerate your backs with thongs, and mortify your flesh with fasting; and with these pitiful mummeries you think, fools as you are, to veil the eyes of Him whom, with the same breath, you address as the Omniscient, just as the great are the most bitterly mocked by those who flatter them while they pretend to hate flatterers. You boast of your honesty and your exemplary conduct; but the God who sees through your hearts would be wroth with Him that made you, were He not the same that had also created the monsters of the Nile. Away with him out of my sight! FATHER DOM. That such a miscreant should be so proud! CHARLES. That's not all. Now I will speak proudly. Go and tell the right worshipful justiceswho set men's lives upon the cast of a die I am not one of those thieves who conspire with sleep and midnight, and play the hero and the lordling on a scalingladder. What I have done I shall no doubt hereafter be doomed to read in the register of heaven; but with his miserable ministers of earth I will waste no more words. Tell your masters that my trade is retributionvengeance my occupation! (He turns his back upon him.) FATHER DOM. Then you despise mercy and forbearance?Be it so, I have done with you. (Turning to the troop.) Now then, sirs, you shall hear what the high powers direct me to make known to you!If you will instantly deliver up to me this condemned malefactor, bound hand and foot, you shall receive a full pardonyour enormities shall be entirely blotted out, even from memory. The holy church will receive you, like lost sheep, with renewed love, into her maternal bosom, and the road to honorable employment shall be open to you all. (With a triumphant smile.) Now sir! how does your majesty relish this? Come on! bind him! and you are free! CHARLES. Do you hear that? Do you hear it? What startles you? Why do you hesitate? They offer you freedomyou that are already their prisoners. They grant you your lives, and that is no idle pretence, for it is clear you are already condemned felons. They promise you honor and emolument; and, on the other hand, what can you hope for, even should you be victorious today, but disgrace, and curses, and persecution? They ensure you the pardon of Heaven; you that are actually damned. There is not a single hair on any of you that is not already bespoke in hell. Do you still hesitate? are you staggered? Is it so difficult, then, to choose between heaven and hell?Do put in a word, father! FATHER DOM. (aside.) Is the fellow crazy? (Aloud.) Perhaps you are afraid that this is a trap to catch you alive?Read it yourselves! Hereis the general pardon fully signed. (He hands a paper to SCHWEITZER.) Can you still doubt? CHARLES. Only see! only see! What more can you require? Signed with their own hands! It is mercy beyond all bounds! Or are you afraid of their breaking their word, because you have heard it said that no faith need be kept with traitors? Dismiss that fear! Policy alone would constrain them to keep their word, even though it should merely have been pledged to old Nick. Who hereafter would believe them? How could they trade with it a second time? I would take my oath upon it that they mean it sincerely. They know that I am the man who has goaded you on and incited you; they believe you innocent. They look upon your crimes as so many juvenile errorsexuberances of rashness. It is I alone they want. I must pay the penalty. Is it not so, father? FATHER DOM. What devil incarnate is it that speaks out of him? Of course it is soof course. The fellow turns my brain. CHARLES. What! no answer yet? Do you think it possible to cut your way through yon phalanx? Only look round you! just look round! You surely do not reckon upon that; that were indeed a childish conceitOr do you flatter yourselves that you will fall like heroes, because you saw that I rejoiced in the prospect of the fight? Oh, do not console yourself with the thought! You are not MOOR. You are miserable thieves! wretched tools of my great designs! despicable as the rope in the hand of the hangman! No! no! Thieves do not fall like heroes. Life must be the hope of thieves, for something fearful has to follow. Thieves may well be allowed to quake at the fear of death. Hark! Do you hear their horns echoing through the forest? See there! how their glittering sabres threaten! What! are you still irresolute? are you mad? are you insane? It is unpardonable. Do you imagine I shall thank you for my life? I disdain your sacrifice! FATHER DOM. (in utter amazement). I shall go mad! I must be gone! Was the like ever heard of? CHARLES. Or are you afraid that I shall stab myself, and so by suicide put an end to the bargain, which only holds good if I am given up alive? No, comrades! that is a vain fear. Here, I fling away my dagger, and my pistols, and this phial of poison, which might have been a treasure to me. I am so wretched that I have lost the power even over my own life. What! still in suspense? Or do you think, perhaps, that I shall stand on my defence when you try to seize me? See here! I bind my right hand to this oakbranch; now I am quite defenceless, a child may overpower me. Who is the first to desert his captain in the hour of need? ROLLER (with wild energy). And what though hell encircle us with ninefold coils! (Brandishing his sword.) Who is the coward that will betray his captain? SCHWEITZER (tears the pardon and flings the pieces into FATHER DOMINIC'S face). Pardon be in our bullets! Away with thee, rascal! Tell your senate that you could not find a single traitor in all Moor's camp. Huzza! Huzza! Save the captain! ALL (shouting). Huzza! Save the captain! Save him! Save our noble captain! CHARLES (releasing his hand from the tree, joyfully). Now we are free, comrades! I feel a host in this single arm! Death or liberty! At the least they shall not take a man of us alive! They sound the signal for attack; noise and tumult. Exeunt with drawn swords. ACT III. SCENE I.AMELIA in the garden, playing the guitar. Bright as an angel from Walhalla's hall, More beautiful than aught of earth was he! Heavenmild his look, as sunbeams when they fall, Reflected from a calm cerulean sea. His warm embraceoh, ravishing delight! With heart to heart the fiery pulses danced Our every sense wrap'd in ecstatic night Our souls in blissful harmony entranced. His kissesoh, what paradise of feeling! E'en as two flames which round each other twine Or flood of seraph harptones gently stealing In one soft swell, away to realms divine! They rushed, commingled, melted, soul in soul! Lips glued to lips, with burning tremor bound! Cold earth dissolved, and love without control Absorbed all sense of worldly things around! He's gone!forever gone! Alas! in vain My bleeding heart in bitter anguish sighs; To me is left alone this world of pain, And mortal life in hopeless sorrow dies. Enter FRANCIS. FRANCIS. Here again already, perverse enthusiast? You stole away from the festive banquet, and marred the mirthful pleasures of my guests. AMELIA. 'Tis pity, truly, to mar such innocent pleasures! Shame on them! The funeral knell that tolled over your father's grave must still be ringing in your ears FRANCIS. Wilt thou sorrow, then, forever? Let the dead sleep in peace, and do thou make the living happy! I come AMELIA. And when do you go again? FRANCIS. Alas! Look not on me thus sorrowfully! You wound me, Amelia. I come to tell you AMELIA. To tell me, I suppose, that Francis von Moor has become lord and master here. FRANCIS. Precisely so; that is the very subject on which I wish to communicate with you. Maximilian von Moor is gone to the tomb of his ancestors. I am master. But I wishto be so in the fullest sense, Amelia. You know what you have been to our house always regarded as Moor's daughter, his love for you will survive even death itself; that, assuredly, you will never forget? AMELIA. Never, never! Who could be so unfeeling as to drown the memory of it in festive banqueting? FRANCIS. It is your duty to repay the love of the father to his sons; and Charles is dead. Ha! you are struck with amazement; dizzy with the thought! To be sure 'tis a flattering and an elating prospect which may well overpower the pride of a woman. Francis tramples under foot the hopes of the noblest and the richest, and offers his heart, his hand, and with them all his gold, his castles, and his forests to a poor, and, but for him, destitute orphan. Francisthe fearedvoluntarily declares himself Amelia's slave! AMELIA. Why does not a thunderbolt cleave the impious tongue which utters the criminal proposal! Thou hast murdered my beloved Charles; and shall Amelia, his betrothed, call thee husband? Thou? FRANCIS. Be not so violent, most gracious princess! It is true that Francis does not come before you like a whining Celadon'tis true he has not learned, like a lovesick swain of Arcadia, to sigh forth his amorous plaints to the echo of caves and rocks. Francis speaksand, when not answered, commands! AMELIA. Commands? thou reptile! Command me? And what if I laughed your command to scorn? FRANCIS. That you will hardly do. There are means, too, which I know of, admirably adapted to humble the pride of a capricious, stubborn girlcloisters and walls! AMELIA. Excellent! delightful! to be forever secure within cloisters and walls from thy basilisk look, and to have abundant leisure to think and dream of Charles. Welcome with your cloister! welcome your walls! FRANCIS. Ha! Is that it? Beware! Now you have taught me the art of tormenting you. The sight of me shall, like a fieryhaired fury, drive out of your head these eternal phantasies of Charles. Francis shall be the dread phantom ever lurking behind the image of your beloved, like the fienddog that guards the subterranean treasure. I will drag you to church by the hair, and sword in hand wring the nuptial vow from your soul. By main force will I ascend your virginal couch, and storm your haughty modesty with still greater haughtiness. AMELIA (gives him a slap in the face). Then take that first by way of dowry! FRANCIS. Ha! I will be tenfold, and twice tenfold revenged for this! My wife! No, that honor you shall never enjoy. You shall be my mistress, my strumpet! The honest peasant's wife shall point her finger at you as she passes you in the street. Ay, gnash your teeth as fiercely as you pleasescatter fire and destruction from your eyes the fury of a woman piques my fancyit makes you more beautiful, more tempting. Come, this resistance will garnish my triumph, and your struggles give zest to my embraces. Come, come to my chamberI burn with desire. Come this instant. (Attempts to drag her away). AMELIA (falls on his neck). Forgive me, Francis! (As he is about to clasp her in his arms, she suddenly draws the sword at his side, and hastily disengages herself). Do you see now, miscreant, how I am able to deal with you? I am only a woman, but a woman enraged. Dare to approach, and this steel shall strike your lascivious heart to the core the spirit of my uncle will guide my hand. Avaunt, this instant! (She drives him away). Ah! how different I feel! Now I breathe againI feel strong as the snorting steed, ferocious as the tigress when she springs upon the ruthless destroyer of her cubs. To a cloister, did he say? I thank thee for the happy thought! Now has disappointed love found a place of refugethe cloisterthe Redeemer's bosom is the sanctuary of disappointed love. (She is on the point going). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . In the acting edition the following scene occurs between Herman and Francis, immediately before that with Amelia. As Schiller himself thought this among the happiest of his additions, and regretted that it was \"entirely and very unfortunately overlooked in the first edition,\" it seems desirable to introduce it here as well as the soliloquy immediately following, which has acquired some celebrity. SCENE VIII. Enter HERMANN. FRANCIS. Ha! Welcome, my Euryalus! My prompt and trusty instrument! HERMANN (abruptly and peevishly). You sent for me, countwhy? FRANCIS. That you might put the seal to your masterpiece. HERMANN (gruffly). Indeed? FRANCIS. Give the picture its finishing touch. HERMANN. Poh! Poh! FRANCIS (startled). Shall I call the carriage? We'll arrange the business during the drive? HERMANN (scornfully). No ceremony, sir, if you please. For any business we may have to arrange there is room enough between these four walls. At all events I'll just say a few words to you by way of preface, which may save your lungs some unnecessary exertion. FRANCIS (reservedly). Hum! And what may those words be? HERMANN (with bitter irony). \"You shall have Ameliaand that from my hand\" FRANCIS (with astonishment). Hermann! HERMANN (as before, with his back turned on FRANCIS). \"Amelia will become the plaything of my willand you may easily guess the restin short all will go as we wish\" (Breaks into an indignant laugh, and then turns haughtily to FRANCIS.) Now, Count von Moor, what have you to say to me? FRANCIS (evasively). To thee? Nothing. I had something to say to Hermann. HERMANN, No evasion. Why was I sent for hither? Was it to be your dupe a second time! and to hold the ladder for a thief to mount? to sell my soul for a hangman s fee? What else did you want with me? FRANCIS (as if recollecting). Ha! It just occurs to me! We must not forget the main point. Did not my steward mention it to you? I wanted to talk to you about the dowry. HERMANN. This is mere mockery sir; or, if not mockery, something worse. Moor, take care of yourselfbeware how you kindle my fury, Moor. We are alone! And I have still an unsullied name to stake against yours! Trust not the devil, although he be of your own raising. FRANCIS (with dignity). Does this deportment become thee towards thy sovereign and gracious master? Tremble, slave! HERMANN (ironically). For fear of your displeasure, I suppose? What signifies your displeasure to a man who is at war with himself? Fie, Moor. I already abhor you as a villain; let me not despise you for a fool. I can open graves, and restore the dead to life! Which of us now is the slave? FRANCIS (in a conciliating tone). Come, my good friend, be discreet, and do not prove faithless. HERMANN. Pshaw! To expose a wretch like you is here the best discretionto keep faith with you would be an utter want of sense. Faith? with whom? Faith with the prince of liars? Oh, I shudder at the thought of such faith. A very little timely faithlessness would have almost made a saint of me. But patience! patience! Revenge is cunning in resources. FRANCIS. Ah, bytheby, I just remember. You lately lost a purse with a hundred louis in it, in this apartment. I had almost forgotten it. Here, my good friend! take back what belongs to you. (Offers him a purse). HERMANN (throws it scornfully at his feet). A curse on your Judas bribe! It is the earnestmoney of hell. You once before thought to make my poverty a pander to my consciencebut you were mistaken, count! egregiously mistaken. That purse of gold came most opportunelyto maintain certain persons. FRANCIS (terrified). Hermann! Hermann! Let me not suspect certain things of you. Should you have done anything contrary to my instructionsyou would be the vilest of traitors! HERMANN (exultingly). Should I? Should I really? Well then count, let me give you a little piece of information! (Significantly.) I will fatten up your infamy, and add fuel to your doom. The book of your misdeeds shall one day be served up as a banquet, and all the world be invited to partake of it. (Contemptuously.) Do you understand me now, my most sovereign, gracious, and excellent master? FRANCIS (starts up, losing all command of himself). Ha! Devil! Deceitful impostor! (Striking his forehead.) To think that I should stake my fortune on the caprice of an idiot! That was madness! (Throws himself, in great excitement, on a couch.) HERMANN (whistles through his fingers). Wheugh! the biter bit! FRANCIS (biting his lip). But it is true, and ever will be truethat there is no thread so feebly spun, or which snaps asunder so readily, as that which weaves the bands of guilt! HERMANN. Gently! Gently! Are angels, then, superseded, that devils turn moralists? FRANCIS (starts up abruptly; to HERMANN with a malignant laugh). And certain persons will no doubt acquire much honor by making the discovery? HERMANN (clapping his hands). Masterly! Inimitable! You play your part to admiration! First you lure the credulous fool into the slough, and then chuckle at the success of your malice, and cry \"Woe be to you sinner!\" (Laughing and clenching his teeth.) Oh, how cleverly these imps off the devil manoeuvre. But, count (clapping him on the shoulder) you have not yet got your lesson quite perfectby Heavens! You first learn what the losing gamester will hazard. Set fire to the powdermagazine, says the pirate, and blow all to hellboth friend and foe! FRANCIS (runs to the wall, and takes down a pistol). Here is treason! I must be resolute HERMANN (draws a pistol as quickly from his pocket, and presents it at him). Don't trouble yourselfone must be prepared for everything with you. FRANCIS (lets the pistol fall, and throws himself on the sofa in great confusion). Only keep my council tilltill I have collected my thoughts. HERMANN. I suppose till you have hired a dozen assassins to silence my tongue forever! Is it not so! But (in his ear) the secret is committed to paper, which my heirs will publish. Exit. SCENE IX. FRANCIS, solus. Francis! Francis! Francis! What is all this? Where was thy courage? where thy once so fertile wit? Woe! Woe! And to be betrayed by thy own instruments! The pillars of my good fortune are tottering to their fall, the fences are broken down, and the raging enemy is already bursting in upon me. Well! this calls for some bold and sudden resolve! What if I went in personand secretly plunged this sword in his body? A wounded man is but a child. Quick! I'll do it. (He walks with a resolute step to the end of the stage, but stops suddenly as if overcome by sensations of horror). Who are these gliding behind me? (Rolling his eyes fearfully) Faces such as I have never yet beheld. What hideous yells do I hear! I feel that I have couragecourage! oh yes to overflowing! But if a mirror should betray me? or my shadow! or the whistling of the murderous stroke! Ugh! Ugh! How my hair bristles! A shudder creeps through my frame. (He lets a poigniard fall from under his clothes.) I am no cowardperhaps somewhat too tenderhearted. Yes! that is it! These are the last struggles of expiring virtue. I revere them. I should indeed be a monster were I to become the murderer of my own brother. No! no! no! That thought be far from me! Let me cherish this vestige of humanity. I will not murder. Nature, thou hast conquered. I still feel something here that seems likeaffection. He shall live. Exit. Enter HERMANN, timidly. HERMANN. Lady Amelia! Lady Amelia! AMELIA. Unhappy man! why dost thou disturb me? HERMANN. I must throw this weight from my soul before it drags it down to hell. (Falls down before her.) Pardon! pardon! I have grievously injured you, Lady Amelia! AMELIA. Arise! depart! I will hear nothing. (Going.) HERMANN (detaining her). No; stay! In the name of Heaven! In the name of the Eternal! You must know all! AMELIA. Not another word. I forgive you. Depart in peace. (In the act of going.) HERMANN. Only one wordlisten; it will restore all your peace of mind. AMELIA (turning back and looking at him with astonishment). How, friend? Who in heaven or on earth can restore my peace of mind? HERMANN. One word from my lips can do it. Hear me! AMELIA (seizing his hand with compassion). Good sir! Can one word from thy lips burst asunder the portals of eternity? HERMANN. (rising). Charles lives! AMELIA (screaming). Wretch! HERMANN. Even so. And one word more. Your uncle AMELIA. (rushing upon him). Thou liest! HERMANN. Your uncle AMELIA. Charles lives? HERMANN. And your uncle AMELIA. Charles lives? HERMANN. And your uncle toobetray me not! (HERMANN runs off) AMELIA (stands a long while like one petrified; after which she starts up wildly, and rushes after HERMANN.) Charles lives! SCENE II.Country near the Danube. THE ROBBERS (encamped on a rising ground, under trees, their horses are grazing below.) CHARLES. Here must I lie (throwing himself upon the ground). I feel as if my limbs were all shattered. My tongue is as dry as a potsherd (SCHWEITZER disappears unperceived.) I would ask one of you to bring me a handful of water from that stream, but you are all tired to death. SCHWARZ. Our wineflasks too are all empty. CHARLES. See how beautiful the harvest looks! The trees are breaking with the weight of their fruit. The vines are full of promise. GRIMM. It is a fruitful year. CHARLES. Do you think so? Then at least one toil in the world will be repaid. One? Yet in the night a hailstorm may come and destroy it all. SCHWARZ. That is very possible. It all may be destroyed an hour before the reaping. CHARLES. Just what I say. All will be destroyed. Why should man prosper in that which he has in common with the ant, while he fails in that which places him on a level with the gods. Or is this the aim and limit of his destiny? SCHWARZ. I know not. CHARLES. Thou hast said well; and wilt have done better, if thou never seekest to know. Brother, I have looked on men, their insect cares and their giant projects,their godlike plans and mouselike occupations, their intensely eager race after happinessone trusting to the fleetness of his horse,another to the nose of his ass,a third to his own legs; this checkered lottery of life, in which so many stake their innocence and their leaven to snatch a prize, and,blanks are all they drawfor they find, too late, that there was no prize in the wheel. It is a drama, brother, enough to bring tears into your eyes, while it shakes your sides with laughter. SCHWARZ. How gloriously the sun is setting yonder! CHARLES (absorbed in the scene). So dies a hero! Worthy of adoration! SCHWARZ. You seem deeply moved. CHARLES. When I, was but a boyit was my darling thought to live like him, like him to die(with suppressed grief.) It was a boyish thought! GRIMM. It was, indeed. CHARLES. There was a time(pressing his hat down upon his face). I would be alone, comrades. SCHWARZ. Moor! Moor! Why, what the deuce! How his color changes. GRIMM. By all the devils! What ails him? Is he ill? CHARLES. There was a time when I could not have slept had I forgotten my evening prayers. GRIMM. Are you beside yourself? Would you let the remembrances of your boyish years school you now? CHARLES (lays his head upon the breast of GRIMM). Brother! Brother! GRIMM. Come! Don't play the childI pray you CHARLES. Oh that I werethat I were again a child! GRIMM. Fie! fie! SCHWARZ. Cheer up! Behold this smiling landscapethis delicious evening! CHARLES. Yes, friends, this world is very lovely SCHWARZ. Come, now, that was well said. CHARLES. This earth so glorious! GRIMM. RightrightI love to hear you talk thus. CHARLES. (sinking back). And I so hideous in' this lovely world a monster on this glorious earth! GRIMM. Oh dear! oh dear! CHARLES. My innocence! give me back my innocence! Behold, every living thing is gone forth to bask in the cheering rays of the vernal sunwhy must I alone inhale the torments of hell out of the joys of heaven? All are so happy, all so united in brotherly love, by the spirit of peace! The whole world one family, and one Father abovebut He not my father! I alone the outcast, I alone rejected from the ranks of the blessedthe sweet name of child is not for menever for me the soulthrilling glance of her I lovenever, never the bosom friend's embrace(starting back wildly)surrounded by murderershemmed in by hissing vipers riveted to vice with iron fetterswhirling headlong on the frail reed of sin to the gulf of perditionamid the blooming flowers of a glad world, a howling Abaddon! SCHWARZ (to the others). How strange! I never saw him thus before. CHARLES (with melancholy). Oh, that I might return again to my mother's womb. That I might be born a beggar! I should desire no more,no more, oh heaven!but that I might be like one of those poor laborers! Oh, I would toil till the blood streamed down my templesto buy myself the luxury of one guiltless slumberthe blessedness of a single tear. GRIMM (to the others). A little patiencethe paroxysm is nearly over. CHARLES. There was a time when my tears flowed so freely. Oh, those days of peace! Dear home of my fathersye verdant halcyon vales! O all ye Elysian scenes of my childhood!will you never return?will your delicious breezes never cool my burning bosom? Mourn with me, Nature, mourn! They will never return! never will their delicious breezes cool my burning bosom! They are gone! gone! irrevocably gone! Enter SCHWEITZER with water in his hat. SCHWEITZER (offering him water in his hat). Drink, captain; here is plenty of water, and cold as ice. SCHWARZ. You are bleeding! What have you been doing? SCHWEITZER. A bit of a freak, you fool, which had wellnigh cost me two legs and a neck. As I was frolicking along the steep sandbanks of the river, plump, in a moment, the whole concern slid from under me, and I after it, some ten fathoms deep;there I lay, and, as I was recovering my five senses, lo and behold, the most sparkling water in the gravel! Not so much amiss this time, said I to myself, for the caper I have cut. The captain will be sure to relish a drink. CHARLES (returns him the hat and wipes his face). But you are covered with mud, Schweitzer, and we can't see the scar which the Bohemian horseman marked on your foreheadyour water was good, Schweitzerand those scars become you well. SCHWEITZER. Bah! There's room for a score or two more yet. CHARLES. Yes, boysit was a hot day's workand only one man lost. Poor Roller! he died a noble death. A marble monument would be erected to his memory had he died in any other cause than mine. Let this suffice. (He wipes the tears from his eyes.) How many, did you say, of the enemy were left on the field? SCHWEITZER. A hundred and sixty huzzars, ninetythree dragoons, some forty chasseursin all about three hundred. CHARLES. Three hundred for one! Every one of you has a claim upon this head. (He bares his head.) By this uplifted dagger! As my Soul liveth, I will never forsake you! SCHWEITZER. Swear not! You do not know but you may yet be happy, and repent your oath. CHARLES. By the ashes of my Roller! I will never forsake you. Enter KOSINSKY. KOSINSKY (aside). Hereabouts, they say, I shall find him. Ha! What faces are these? Should they beif thesethey must be the men! Yes, 'tis they,'tis they! I will accost them. SCHWARZ. Take heed! Who goes there? KOSINSKY. Pardon, sirs. I know not whether I am going right or wrong. CHARLES. Suppose right, whom do you take us to be? KOSINSKY. Men! SCHWEITZER. I wonder, captain, whether we have given any proof of that? KOSINSKY. I am in search of men who can look death in the face, and let danger play around then like a tamed snake; who prize liberty above life or honor; whose very names, hailed by the poor and the oppressed, appal the boldest, and make tyrants tremble. SCHWEITZER (to the Captain). I like that fellow. Hark ye, friend! You have found your men. KOSINSKY. So I should think, and I hope soon to find them brothers. You can direct me to the man I am looking for. 'Tis your captain, the great Count von Moor. SCHWEITZER (taking him warmly by the hand). There's a good lad. You and I must be chums. CHARLES (coming nearer). Do you know the captain? KOSINSKY. Thou art he!in those featuresthat airwho can look at thee, and doubt it? (Looks earnestly at him for some time). I have always wished to see the man with the annihilating look, as he sat on the ruins of Carthage. That wish is realized. Alluding to Caius Marius. See Plutarch's Lives. SCHWEITZER. A mettlesome fellow! CHARLES. And what brings you to me? KOSINSKY. Oh, captain! my more than cruel fate. I have suffered shipwrecked on the stormy ocean of the world; I have seen all my fondest hopes perish; and nought remains to me but a remembrance of the bitter past, which would drive me to madness, were I not to drown it by directing my energies to new objects. CHARLES. Another arraignment of the ways of Providence! Proceed. KOSINSKY. I became a soldier. Misfortune still followed me in the army. I made a venture to the Indies, and my ship was shivered on the rocksnothing but frustrated hopes! At last, I heard tell far and wide of your valiant deeds, incendiarisms, as they called them, and I came straightway hither, a distance of thirty leagues, firmly resolved to serve under you, if you will deign to accept my services. I entreat thee, noble captain, refuse me not! SCHWEITZER (with a leap into the air). Hurrah! Hurrah! Our Roller replaced ten hundredfold! An outandout brother cutthroat for our troop. CHARLES. What is your name? KOSINSKY. Kosinsky. CHARLES. What? Kosinsky! And do you know that you are but a thoughtless boy, and are embarking on the most weighty passage of your life as heedlessly as a giddy girl? You will find no playing at bowls or ninepins here, as you probably imagine. KOSINSKY. I understand you, sir. I am,'tis true, but fourandtwenty years old, but I have seen swords glittering, and have heard balls whistling around me. CHARLES. Indeed, young gentleman? And was it for this that you took fencing lessons, to run poor travellers through the body for the sake of a dollar, or stab women in the back? Go! go! You have played truant to your nurse because she shook the rod at you. SCHWEITZER. Why, what the devil, captain! what are you about? Do you mean to turn away such a Hercules? Does he not look as if he could baste Marechal Saxe across the Ganges with a ladle? CHARLES. Because your silly schemes miscarry, you come here to turn rogue and assassin! Murder, boy, do you know the meaning of that word? You may have slumbered in peace after cropping a few poppyheads, but to have a murder on your soul KOSINSKY. All the murders you bid me commit be upon my head! CHARLES. What! Are you so nimblewitted? Do you take measure of a man to catch him by flattery? How do you know that I am not haunted by terrific dreams, or that I shall not tremble on my deathbed?How much have you already done of which you have considered the responsibility? KOSINSKY. Very little, I must confess; excepting this long journey to you, noble count CHARLES. Has your tutor let the story of Robin Hoodget into your hands? Such careless rascals ought to be sent to the galleys. And has it heated your childish fancy, and infected you with the mania of becoming a hero? Are you thirsting for honor and fame? Would you buy immortality by deeds of incendiarism? Mark me, ambitious youth! No laurel blooms for the incendiary. No triumph awaits the victories of the banditnothing but curses, danger, death, disgrace. Do you see the gibbet yonder on the hill? SPIEGEL (going up and down indignantly). Oh, how stupid! How abominably, unpardonably stupid! That's not the way. I went to work in a very different manner. KOSINSKY. What should he fear, who fears not death? CHARLES. Bravo! Capital! You have made good use of your time at school; you have got your Seneca cleverly by heart. But, my good friend, you will not be able with these fine phrases to cajole nature in the hour of suffering; they will never blunt the biting tooth of remorse. Ponder on it well, my son! (Takes him by the hand.) I advise you as a father. First learn the depth of the abyss before you plunge headlong into it. If in this world you can catch a single glimpse of happinessmoments may come when youawake,and thenit may be too late. Here you step out as it were beyond the pale of humanityyou must either be more than human or a demon. Once more, my son! if but a single spark of hope glimmer for you elsewhere, fly this fearful compact, where nought but despair enters, unless a higher wisdom has so ordained it. You may deceive yourselfbelieve me, it is possible to mistake that for strength of mind which in reality is nothing more than despair. Take my counsel! mine! and depart quickly. KOSINSKY. No! I will not stir. If my entreaties fail to move you, hear but the story of my misfortunes. And then you will force the dagger into my hand as eagerly as you now seek to withhold it. Seat yourselves awhile on the grass and listen. CHARLES. I will hear your story. KOSINSKY. Know, then, that I am a Bohemian nobleman. By the early death of my father I became master of large possessions. The scene of my domain was a paradise; for it contained an angela maid adorned with all the charms of blooming youth, and chaste as the light of heaven. But to whom do I talk of this? It falls unheeded on your carsye never loved, ye were never beloved SCHWEITZER. Gently, gently! The captain grows red as fire. CHARLES. No more! I'll hear you some other timetomorrow,or byandby, orafter I have seen blood. KOSINSKY. Blood, blood! Only hear on! Blood will fill your whole soul. She was of citizen birth, a Germanbut her look dissolved all the prejudices of aristocracy. With blushing modesty she received the bridal ring from my hand, and on the morrow I was to have led my AMELIA to the altar. (CHARLES rises suddenly.) In the midst of my intoxicating dream of happiness, and while our nuptials were preparing, an express summoned me to court. I obeyed the summons. Letters were shown me which I was said to have written, full of treasonable matter. I grew scarlet with indignation at such malice; they deprived me of my sword, thrust me into prison, and all my senses forsook me. SCHWEITZER. And in the meantimego on! I already scent the game. KOSINSKY. There I lay a whole month, and knew not what was taking place. I was full of anxiety for my Amelia, who I was sure would suffer the pangs of death every moment in apprehension of my fate. At last the prime minister makes his appearance,congratulates me in honeysweet words on the establishment of my innocence,reads to me a warrant of discharge,and returns me my sword. I flew in triumph to my castle, to the arms of my Amelia, but she had disappeared! She had been carried off, it was said, at midnight, no one knew whither, and no eye had beheld her since. A suspicion instantly flashed across my mind. I rushed to the capitalI made inquiries at courtall eyes were upon me,no one would give me information. At last I discovered her through a grated window of the palaceshe threw me a small billet. SCHWEITZER. Did I not say so? KOSINSKY. Death and destruction! The contents were these! They had given her the choice between seeing me put to death, and becoming the mistress of the prince. In the struggle between honor and love she chose the latter, and (with a bitter smile) I was saved. SCHWEITZER. And what did you do then? KOSINSKY. Then I stood like one transfixed with a thunderbolt! Blood was my first thought, blood my last! Foaming at the mouth, I ran to my quarters, armed myself with a twoedged sword, and, with all haste, rushed to the minister's house, for hehe alonehad been the fiendish pander. They must have observed me in the street, for, as I went up, I found all the doors fastened. I searched, I enquired. He was gone, they said, to the prince. I went straight thither, but nobody there would know anything about him. I return, force the doors, find the base wretch, and was on the point when five or six servants suddenly rushed on me from behind, and wrenched the weapon from my hands. SCHWEITZER (stamping the ground). And so the fellow got off clear, and you lost your labor? KOSINSKY. I was arrested, accused, criminally prosecuted, degraded, andmark thistransported beyond the frontier, as a special favor. My estates were confiscated to the minister, and Amelia remained in the clutches of the tiger, where she weeps and mourns away her life, while my vengeance must keep a fast, and crouch submissively to the yoke of despotism. SCHWEITZER (rising and whetting his sword). That is grist to our mill, captain! There is something here for the incendiaries! CHARLES (who has been walking up and down in violent agitation, with a sudden start to the ROBBERS). I must see her. Up! collect your baggageyou'll stay with us, Kosinsky! Quick, pack up! THE ROBBERS. Where to? What? CHARLES. Where to? Who asks that question? (Fiercely to SCHWEITZER) Traitor, wouldst thou keep me back? But by the hope for heaven! SCHWEITZER. I, a traitor? Lead on to hell and I will follow you! CHARLES (falling on his neck). Dear brother! thou shalt follow me. She weeps, she mourns away her life. Up! quickly! all of you! to Franconia! In a week we must be there. Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.Rural scenery in the neighborhood of CHARLES VON MOOR'S castle. CHARLES VON MOOR, KOSINSKY, at a distance. CHARLES. Go forward, and announce me. You remember what you have to say? KOSINSKY. You are Count Brand, you come from Mecklenburg. I am your groom. Do not fear, I shall take care to play my part. Farewell! Exit. CHARLES. Hail to thee, Earth of my Fatherland (kisses the earth.) Heaven of my Fatherland! Sun of my Fatherland! Ye meadows and hills, ye streams and woods! Hail, hail to ye all! How deliciously the breezes are wafted from my native hills? What streams of balmy perfume greet the poor fugitive! Elysium! Realms of poetry! Stay, Moor, thy foot has strayed into a holy temple. (Comes nearer.) See there! the old swallownests in the castle yard!and the little gardengate!and this corner of the fence where I so often watched in ambuscade to teaze old Towzer!and down there in the green valley, where, as the great Alexander, I led my Macedonians to the battle of Arbela; and the grassy hillock yonder, from which I hurled the Persian satrapand then waved on high my victorious banner! (He smiles.) The golden age of boyhood lives again in the soul of the outcast. I was then so happy, so wholly, so cloudlessly happyand nowbehold all my prospects a wreck! Here should I have presided, a great, a noble, an honored manhere havelived over again the years of boyhood in the bloomingchildren of my Ameliahere!here have been the idol of my peoplebut the foul fiend opposed it (Starting.) Why am I here? To feel like the captive when the clanking of his chains awakes him from his dream of liberty. No, let me return to my wretchedness! The captive had forgotten the light of day, but the dream of liberty flashes past his eyes like a blaze of lightning in the night, which leaves it darker than before. Farewell, ye native vales! once ye saw Charles as a boy, and then Charles was happy. Now ye have seen the man his happiness turned to despair! (He moves rapidly towards the most distant point of the landscape, where he suddenly stops and casts a melancholy look across to the castle.) Not to behold her! not even one look?and only a wall between me and Amelia! No! see her I must!and him too!though it crush me! (He turns back.) Father! father! thy son approaches. Away with thee, black, reeking gore! Away with that grim, ghastly look of death! Oh, give me but this one hour free! Amelia! Father! thy Charles approaches! (He goes quickly towards the castle.) Torment me when the morning dawnsgive me no rest with the coming nightbeset me in frightful dreams! But, oh! poison not this my only hour of bliss! (He is standing at the gate.) What is it I feel? What means this, Moor? Be a man! These deathlike shuddersforeboding terrors. Enters. SCENE II.Gallery in the Castle. In some editions this is the third scene, and there is no second. Enter CHARLES VON MOOR, AMELIA. AMELIA. And are you sure that you should know his portrait among these pictures? CHARLES. Oh, most certainly! his image has always been fresh in my memory. (Passing along thee pictures.) This is not it. AMELIA. You are right! He was the first count, and received his patent of nobility from Frederic Barbarossa, to whom he rendered some service against the corsairs. CHARLES (still reviewing the pictures). Neither is it thisnor this nor thatit is not among these at all. AMELIA. Nay! look more attentively! I thought you knew him. CHARLES. As well as my own father! This picture wants the sweet expression around the mouth, which distinguished him from among a thousand. It is not he. AMELIA. You surprise me. What! not seen him for eighteen years, and still CHARLES (quickly, with a hectic blush). Yes, this is he! (He stands as if struck by lightning.) AMELIA. An excellent man! CHARLES (absorbed in the contemplation of the picture). Father! father! forgive me! Yes, an excellent man! (He wipes his eyes.) A godlike man! AMELIA. You seem to take a deep interest in him. CHARLES. Oh, an excellent man! And he is gone, you say! AMELIA. Gone! as our best joys perish. (Gently taking him by the hand.) Dear Sir, no happiness ripens in this world. CHARLES. Most true, most true! And have you already proved this truth by sad experience? You, who can scarcely yet have seen your twentythird year? AMELIA. Yes, alas, I have proved it. Whatever lives, lives to die in sorrow. We engage our hearts, and grasp after the things of this world, only to undergo the pang of losing them. CHARLES. What can you have lost, and yet so young? AMELIA. Nothingeverythingnothing. Shall we go on, count? In the acting edition is added \"MOOR. And would you learn forgetfulness in that holy garb there? (Pointing to a nun's habit.) \"AMELIA. Tomorrow I hope to do so. Shall we continue our walk, sir?\" CHARLES. In such haste? Whose portrait is that on the right? There is an unhappy look about that countenance, methinks. AMELIA. That portrait on the left is the son of the count, the present count. Come, let us pass on! CHARLES. But this portrait on the right? AMELIA. Will you not continue your walk, Sir? CHARLES. But this portrait on the right hand? You are in tears, Amelia? Exit AMELIA, in precipitation. CHARLES. She loves me, she loves me! Her whole being began to rebel, and the traitor tears rolled down her cheeks. She loves me! Wretch, hast thou deserved this at her hands? Stand I not here like a condemned criminal before the fatal block? Is this the couch on which we so often satwhere I have hung in rapture on her neck? Are these my ancestral halls? (Overcome by the sight of his father's portrait.) Thouthou Flames of fire darting from thine eyesHis curseHis curseHe disowns meWhere am I? My sight grows dimHorrors of the living God'Twas I, 'twas I that killed my father! He rushes off Enter FRANCIS VON MOOR, in deep thought. FRANCIS. Away with that image! Away with it! Craven heart! Why dost thou tremble, and before whom? Have I not felt, during the few hours that the count has been within these walls as if a spy from hell were gliding at my heels. Methinks I should know him! There is something so lofty, so familiar, in his wild, sunburnt features, which makes me tremble. Amelia, too, is not indifferent towards him! Does she not dart eager, languishing looks at the fellow looks of which she is so chary to all the world beside? Did I not see her drop those stealthy tears into the wine, which, behind my back, he quaffed so eagerly that he seemed to swallow the very glass? Yes, I saw itI saw it in the mirror with my own eyes. Take care, Francis! Look about you! Some destructionbrooding monster is lurking beneath all this! (He stops, with a searching look, before the portrait of CHARLES.) His long, cranelike neckhis black, firesparkling eyeshem! hem! his dark, overhanging, bushy eyebrows. (Suddenly starting back.) Malicious hell! dost thou send me this suspicion? It is Charles! Yes, all his features are reviving before me. It is he! despite his mask! it is he! Death and damnation! (Goes up and down with agitated steps.) Is it for this that I have sacrificed my nightsthat I have mowed down mountains and filled up chasms? For this that I have turned rebel against all the instincts of humanity? To have this vagabond outcast blunder in at last, and destroy all my cunningly devised fabric. But gently! gently! What remains to be done is but child's play. Have I not already waded up to my very ears in mortal sin? Seeing how far the shore lies behind me, it would be madness to attempt to swim back. To return is now out of the question. Grace itself would be beggared, and infinite mercy become bankrupt, were they to be responsible for all my liabilities. Then onward like a man. (He rings the bell.) Let him be gathered to the spirit of his father, and now come on! For the dead I care not! Daniel! Ho! Daniel! I'd wager a trifle they have already inveigled him too into the plot against me! He looks so full of mystery! Enter DANIEL. DANIEL. What is your pleasure, my master? FRANCIS. Nothing. Go, fill this goblet with wine, and quickly! (Exit DANIEL.) Wait a little, old man! I shall find you out! I will fix my eye upon you so keenly that your stricken conscience shall betray itself through your mask! He shall die! He is but a sorry bungler who leaves his work half finished, and then looks on idly, trusting to chance for what may come of it. Enter DANIEL, with the wine. Bring it here! Look me steadfastly in the face! How your knees knock together! How you tremble! Confess, old man! what have you been doing? DANIEL. Nothing, my honored master, by heaven and my poor soul! FRANCIS. Drink this wine! What? you hesitate? Out with it quickly! What have you put into the wine? DANIEL. Heaven help me! What! I in the wine? FRANCIS. You have poisoned it! Are you not as white as snow? Confess, confess! Who gave it you? The count? Is it not so? The count gave it you? DANIEL. The count? Jesu Maria! The count has not given me anything. FRANCIS (grasping him tight). I will throttle you till you are black in the face, you hoaryheaded liar! Nothing? Why, then, are you so often closeted together? He, and you, and Amelia? And what are you always whispering about? Out with it! What secrets, eh? What secrets has he confided to you? DANIEL. I call the Almighty to witness that he has not confided any secrets to me. FRANCIS. Do you mean to deny it? What schemes have you been hatching to get rid of me? Am I to be smothered in my sleep? or is my throat to be cut in shaving? or am I to be poisoned in wine or chocolate? Eh? Out with it, out with it! Or am I to have my quietus administered in my soup? Out with it! I know it all! DANIEL. May heaven so help me in the hour of need as I now tell you the truth, and nothing but the pure, unvarnished truth! FRANCIS. Well, this time I will forgive you. But the money! he most certainly put money into your purse? And he pressed your hand more warmly than is customary? something in the manner of an old acquaintance? DANIEL. Never, indeed, Sir. FRANCIS. He told you, for instance, that he had known you before? that you ought to know him? that the scales would some day fall from your eyes? thatwhat? Do you mean to say that he never spoke thus to you? DANIEL. Not a word of the kind. FRANCIS. That certain circumstances restrained himthat one must sometimes wear a mask in order to get at one's enemiesthat he would be revenged, most terribly revenged? DANIEL. Not a syllable of all this. FRANCIS. What? Nothing at all? Recollect yourself. That he knew the old count wellmost intimatelythat he loved himloved him exceedinglyloved him like a son! DANIEL. Something of that sort I remember to have heard him say. FRANCIS (turning pale). Did he say so? did he really? How? let me hear! He said he was my brother? DANIEL (astonished). What, my master? He did not say that. But as Lady Amelia was conducting him through the galleryI was just dusting the picture frameshe suddenly stood still before the portrait of my late master, and seemed thunderstruck. Lady Amelia pointed it out, and said, \"An excellent man!\" \"Yes, a most excellent man!\" he replied, wiping a tear from his eye. FRANCIS. Hark, Daniel! You know I have ever been a kind master to you; I have given you food and raiment, and have spared you labor in consideration of your advanced age. DANIEL. For which may heaven reward you! and I, on my part, have always served you faithfully. FRANCIS. That is just what I was going to say. You have never in all your life contradicted me; for you know much too well that you owe me obedience in all things, whatever I may require of you. DANIEL. In all things with all my heart, so it be not against God and my conscience. FRANCIS. Stuff! nonsense! Are you not ashamed of yourself? An old man, and believe that Christmas tale! Go, Daniel! that was a stupid remark. You know that I am your master. It is on me that God and conscience will be avenged, if, indeed, there be a God and a conscience. DANIEL (clasping his hands together). Merciful Heaven! FRANCIS. By your obedience! Do you understand that word? By your obedience, I command you. With tomorrow's dawn the count must no longer be found among the living. DANIEL. Merciful Heaven! and wherefore? FRANCIS. By your blind obedience! I shall rely upon you implicitly. DANIEL. On me? May the Blessed Virgin have mercy on me! On me? What evil, then, have I, an old man, done! FRANCIS. There is no time now for reflection; your fate is in my hands. Would you rather pine away the remainder of your days in the deepest of my dungeons, where hunger shall compel you to gnaw your own bones, and burning thirst make you suck your own blood? Or would you rather eat your bread in peace, and have rest in your old age? DANIEL. What, my lord! Peace and rest in my old age? And I a murderer? FRANCIS. Answer my question! DANIEL. My gray hairs! my gray hairs! FRANCIS. Yes or no! DANIEL. No! God have mercy upon me! FRANCIS (in the act of going). Very well! you shall have need of it. (DANIEL detains him and falls on his knees before him.) DANIEL. Mercy, master! mercy! FRANCIS. Yes or no! DANIEL. Most gracious master! I am this day seventyone years of age! and have honored my father and my mother, and, to the best of my knowledge, have never in the whole course of my life defrauded any one to the value of a farthing,and I have adhered to my creed truly and honestly, and have served in your house fourandforty years, and am now calmly awaiting a quiet, happy end. Oh, master! master! (violently clasping his knees) and would you deprive me of my only solace in death, that the gnawing worm of an evil conscience may cheat me of my last prayer? that I may go to my long home an abomination in the sight of God and man? No, no! my dearest, best, most excellent, most gracious master! you do not ask that of an old man turned threescore and ten! FRANCIS. Yes or no! What is the use of all this palaver? DANIEL. I will serve you from this day forward more diligently than ever; I will wear out my old bones in your service like a common daylaborer; I will rise earlier and lie down later. Oh, and I will remember you in my prayers night and morning; and God will not reject the prayer of an old man. FRANCIS. Obedience is better than sacrifice. Did you ever hear of the hangman standing upon ceremony when he was told to execute a sentence? DANIEL. That is very true? but to murder an innocent manone FRANCIS. Am I responsible to you? Is the axe to question the hangman why he strikes this way and not that? But see how forbearing I am. I offer you a reward for performing what you owe me in virtue of your allegiance. DANIEL. But, when I swore allegiance to you, I at least hoped that I should be allowed to remain a Christian. FRANCIS. No contradiction! Look you! I give you the whole day to think about it! Ponder well on it. Happiness or misery. Do you hear do you understand? The extreme of happiness or the extreme of misery! I can do wonders in the way of torture. DANIEL (after some reflection). I'll do it; I will do it tomorrow. Exit. FRANCIS. The temptation is strong, and I should think he was not born to die a martyr to his faith. Have with you, sir count! According to all ordinary calculations, you will sup tomorrow with old Beelzebub. In these matters all depends upon one's view of a thing; and he is a fool who takes any view that is contrary to his own interest. A father quaffs perhaps a bottle of wine more than ordinaryhe is in a certain moodthe result is a human being, the last thing that was thought of in the affair. Well, I, too, am in a certain mood,and the result is that a human being perishes; and surely there is more of reason and purpose in this than there was in his production. If the birth of a man is the result of an animal paroxysm, who should take it into his head to attach any importance to the negation of his birth? A curse upon the folly of our nurses and teachers, who fill our imaginations with frightful tales, and impress fearful images of punishment upon the plastic brain of childhood, so that involuntary shudders shake the limbs of the man with icy fear, arrest his boldest resolutions, and chain his awakening reason in the fetters of superstitious darkness. Murder! What a hell full of furies hovers around that word. Yet 'tis no more than if nature forgets to bring forth one man more or the doctor makes a mistakeand thus the whole phantasmagoria vanishes. It was something, and it is nothing. Does not this amount to exactly the same thing as though it had been nothing, and came to nothing; and about nothing it is hardly worth while to waste a word. Man is made of filth, and for a time wades in filth, and produces filth, and sinks back into filth, till at last he fouls the boots of his own posterity. \"To what base uses we may return, Horatio! why, may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till we find it stopping a bunghole?\"HAMLET, Act v, Sc. 1. That is the burden of the songthe filthy cycle of human fate; and with thata pleasant journey to you, sir brother! Conscience, that splenetic, gouty moralist, may drive shrivelled old drones out of brothels, and torture usurers on their deathbedswith me it shall never more have audience. Exit. SCENE III.Another Room in the Castle. CHARLES VON MOOR enters from one side, DANIEL from the other. CHARLES (hastily). Where is Lady Amelia? DANIEL. Honored sir! permit an old man to ask you a favor. CHARLES. It is granted. What is it you ask? DANIEL. Not much, and yet allbut little, and yet a great deal. Suffer me to kiss your hand! CHARLES. That I cannot permit, good old man (embraces him), from one whom I should like to call my father. DANIEL. Your hand, your hand! I beseech you. CHARLES. That must not be. DANIEL. It must! (He takes hold of it, surveys it quickly, and falls down before him.) Dear, dearest Charles! CHARLES (startled; he composes himself, and says in a distant tone). What mean you, my friend? I don't understand you. DANIEL. Yes, you may deny it, you may dissemble as much as you please? 'Tis very well! very well. For all that you are my dearest, my excellent young master. Good Heaven! that I, poor old man, should live to have the joywhat a stupid blockhead was I that I did not at a glanceoh, gracious powers! And you are really come back, and the dear old master is underground, and here you are again! What a purblind dolt I was, to be sure! (striking his forehead) that I did not on the instantOh, dear me!who could have dreamt itWhat I have so often prayed for with tearsOh, mercy me! There he stands again, as large as life, in the old room! CHARLES. What's all this oration about? Are you in a fit of delirium, and have escaped from your keepers; or are you rehearsing a stageplayer's part with me? DANIEL. Oh, fie! fie! It is not pretty of you to make game of an old servant. That scar! Eh! do you remember it? Good Heaven! what a fright you put me intoI always loved you so dearly; and what misery you might have brought upon me. You were sitting in my lapdo you remember? there in the round chamber. Has all that quite vanished from your memoryand the cuckoo, too, that you were so fond of listening to? Only think! the cuckoo is broken, broken all to shiversold Susan smashed it in sweeping the roomyes, indeed, and there you sat in my lap, and cried, \"Cockhorse!\" and I ran off to fetch your wooden horse mercy on me! what business had I, thoughtless old fool, to leave you aloneand how I felt as if I were in a boiling caldron when I heard you screaming in the passage; and, when I rushed in, there was your red blood gushing forth, and you lying on the ground. Oh, by the Blessed Virgin! did I not feel as if a bucket of icy cold water was emptied all over me?but so it happens, unless one keeps all one's eyes upon children. Good Heaven! if it had gone into your eye! Unfortunately it happened to be the right hand. \"As long as I live,\" said I, \"never again shall any child in my charge get hold of a knife or scissors, or any other edge tool.\" 'Twas lucky for me that both my master and mistress were gone on a journey. \"Yes, yes! this shall be a warning to me for the rest of my life,\" said IGemini, Gemini! I might have lost my place, I mightGod forgive you, you naughty boybut, thank Heaven! it healed fairly, all but that ugly scar. CHARLES. I do not comprehend one word of all that you are talking about. DANIEL. Eh? eh? that was the time! was it not? How many a gingercake, and biscuit, and macaroon, have I slipped into your handsI was always so fond of you. And do you recollect what you said to me down in the stable, when I put you upon old master's hunter, and let you scamper round the great meadow? \"Daniel!\" said you, \"only wait till I am grown a big man, and you shall be my steward, and ride in the coach with me.\" \"Yes,\" said I, laughing, \"if heaven grants me life and health, and you are not ashamed of the old man,\" I said, \"I shall ask you to let me have the little house down in the village, that has stood empty so long; and then I will lay in a few butts of good wine, and turn publican in my old age.\" Yes, you may laugh, you may laugh! Eh, young gentleman, have you quite forgotten all that? You do not want to remember the old man, so you carry yourself strange and loftily;but, you are my jewel of a young master, for all that. You have, it is true, been a little bit wilddon't be angry!as young blood is apt to be! All may be well yet in the end. CHARLES (falls on his neck). Yes! Daniel! I will no longer hide it from you! I am your Charles, your lost Charles! And now tell me, how does my Amelia? DANIEL (begins to cry). That I, old sinner, should live to have this happinessand my late blessed master wept so long in vain! Begone, begone, hoary old head! Ye weary bones, descend into the grave with joy! My lord and master lives! my own eyes have beheld him! CHARLES. And he will keep his promise to you. Take that, honest graybeard, for the old hunter (forces a heavy purse upon him). I have not forgotten the old man. DANIEL. How? What are you doing? Too much! You have made a mistake. CHARLES. No mistake, Daniel! (DANIEL is about to throw himself on his knees before him.) Rise! Tell me, how does my Amelia? DANIEL. Heaven reward you! Heaven reward you! O gracious me! Your Amelia will never survive it, she will die for joy? CHARLES (eagerly). She has not forgotten me then? DANIEL. Forgotten you? How can you talk thus? Forgotten you, indeed! You should have been there, you should have seen how she took on, when the news came of your death, which his honor caused to be spread abroad CHARLES. What do you say? my brother DANIEL. Yes, your brother; his honor, your brotheranother day I will tell you more about it, when we have timeand how cleverly she sent him about his business when he came a wooing every blessed day, and offered to make her his countess. Oh, I must go; I must go and tell her; carry her the news (is about to run of). CHARLES. Stay! stay! she must not knownobody must know, not even my brother! DANIEL. Your brother? No, on no account; he must not know it! Certainly not! If he know not already more than he ought to know. Oh, I can tell you, there are wicked men, wicked brothers, wicked masters; but I would not for all my master's gold be a wicked servant. His honor thought you were dead. CHARLES. Humph! What are you muttering about? DANIEL (in a halfsuppressed voice). And to be sure when a man rises from the dead thus uninvitedyour brother was the sole heir of our late master! CHARLES. Old man! what is it you are muttering between your teeth, as if some dreadful secret were hovering on your tongue which you fear to utter, and yet ought? Out with it! DANIEL. But I would rather gnaw my old bones with hunger, and suck my own blood for thirst, than gain a life of luxury by murder. Exit hastily. CHARLES (starting up, after a terrible pause). Betrayed! Betrayed! It flashes upon my soul like lightning! A fiendish trick! A murderer and a robber through fiendlike machinations! Calumniated by him! My letters falsified, suppressed! his heart full of love! Oh, what a monstrous fool was I! His fatherly heart full of love! oh, villainy, villainy! It would have cost me but once kneeling at his feeta tear would have done itoh blind, blind fool that I was! (running up against the wall). I might have been happyoh villainy, villainy! Knavishly, yes, knavishly cheated out of all happiness in this life! (He runs up and down in a rage.) A murderer, a robber, all through a knavish trick! He was not even angry! Not a thought of cursing ever entered his heart. Oh, miscreant! inconceivable, hypocritical, abominable miscreant! Enter KOSINSKY. KOSINSKY. Well, captain, where are you loitering? What is the matter? You are for staying here some time longer, I perceive? CHARLES. Up! Saddle the horses! Before sunset we must be over the frontier! KOSINSKY. You are joking. CHARLES (in a commanding tone). Quick! quick! delay not! leave every thing behind! and let no eye see you! (Exit KOSINSKY.) I fly from these walls. The least delay might drive me raving mad; and he my father's son! Brother! brother! thou hast made me the most miserable wretch on earth; I never injured thee; this was not brotherly. Reap the fruits of thy crime in quiet, my presence shall no longer embitter thy enjoymentbut, surely, this was not acting like a brother. May oblivion shroud thy misdeed forever, and death not bring it back to light. Enter KOSINSKY. KOSINSKY. The horses are ready saddled, you can mount as soon as you please. CHARLES. Why in such haste? Why so urgent? Shall I see her no more? KOSINSKY. I will take off the bridles again, if you wish it; you bade me hasten head over heels. CHARLES. One more farewell! one more! I must drain this poisoned cup of happiness to the dregs, and thenStay, Kosinsky! Ten minutes more behind, in the castle yardand we gallop off. Scene IV.In the Garden. AMELIA. \"You are in tears, Amelia!\" These were his very wordsand spoken with such expressionsuch a voice!oh, it summoned up a thousand dear remembrances!scenes of past delight, as in my youthful days of happiness, my golden springtide of love. The nightingale sung with the same sweetness, the flowers breathed the same delicious fragrance, as when I used to hang enraptured on his neck. Here, in the acting edition, is added, 'Assuredly, if the spirits of the departed wander among the living, then must this stranger be Charles's angel!' Ha! false, perfidious heart! And dost thou seek thus artfully to veil thy perjury? No, no! begone forever from my soul, thou sinful image! I have not broken my oath, thou only one! Avaunt, from my soul, ye treacherous impious wishes! In the heart where Charles reigns no son of earth may dwell. But why, my soul, dost thou thus constantly, thus obstinately turn towards this stranger? Does he not cling to my heart in the very image of my only one! Is he not his inseparable companion in my thoughts? \"You are in tears, Amelia?\" Ha! let me fly from him! fly!never more shall my eyes behold this stranger! CHARLES opens the garden gate. AMELIA (starting). Hark! hark! did I not hear the gate creak? (She perceives CHARLES and starts up.) He?whither?what? I am rooted to the spot,I can not fly! Forsake me not, good Heaven! No! thou shalt not tear me from my Charles! My soul has no room for two deities, I am but a mortal maid! (She draws the picture of CHARLES from her bosom.) Thou, my Charles! be thou my guardian angel against this stranger, this invader of our loves! At thee will I look, at thee, nor turn away my eyesnor cast one sinful look towards him! (She sits silent, her eyes fixed upon the picture.) CHARLES. You here, Lady Amelia?and so sad? and a tear upon that picture? (AMELIA gives him no answer.) And who is the happy man for whom these silver drops fall from an angel's eyes? May I be permitted to look at(He endeavors to look at the picture.) AMELIA. Noyesno! CHARLES (starting back). Haand does he deserve to be so idolized? Does he deserve it? AMELIA. Had you but known him! CHARLES. I should have envied him. AMELIA. Adored, you mean. CHARLES. Ha! AMELIA. Oh, you would so have loved him?there was so much, so much in his facein his eyesin the tone of his voice,which was so like yoursthat I love so dearly! (CHARLES casts his eyes down to the ground.) Here, where you are standing, he has stood a thousand times and by his side, one who, by his side, forgot heaven and earth. Here his eyes feasted on nature's most glorious panorama,which, as if conscious of his approving glance, seemed to increase in beauty under the approbation of her masterpiece. Here he held the audience of the air captive with his heavenly music. Here, from this bush, he plucked roses, and plucked those roses for me. Here, here, he lay on my neck; here he imprinted burning kisses on my lips, and the flowers hung their heads with pleasure beneath the foottread of the lovers. In the acting edition the scene changes materially at this point, and the most sentimental part of the whole drama is transformed into the most voluptuous. The stage direction here is,(They give way to their transports without control, and mingle their kisses. MOOR hangs in ecstacy on her lips, while she sinks half delirious on the couch.) O Charles! now avenge thyself; my vow is broken. MOOR (tearing himself away from her, as if in frenzy). Can this be hell that still pursues me! (Gazing on her.) I felt so happy! AMELIA (perceiving the ring upon her finger, starts up from the couch). What! Art thou still thereon that guilty hand? Witness of my perjury. Away with thee! (She pulls the ring from her finger and gives it to CHARLES.) Take ittake it, beloved seducer! and with it what I hold most sacredtake my allmy Charles! (She falls back upon the couch.) MOOR (changes color). O thou Most High! was this thy almighty will? It is the very ring I gave her in pledge of our mutual faith. Hell be the grave of love! She has returned my ring. AMELIA (terrified). Heavens! What is the matter? Your eyes roll wildly, and your lips are pale as death! Ah! woe is me. And are the pleasures of thy crime so soon forgotten? MOOR (suppressing his emotion). 'Tis nothing! Nothing! (Raising his eyes to heaven.) I am still a man! (He takes of his own ring and puts it on AMELIA'S finger.) In return take this! sweet fury of my heart! And with it what I hold most sacredtake my allmy Amelia! AMELIA (starting up). Your Amelia! MOOR (mournfully). Oh, she was such a lovely maiden, and faithful as an angel. When we parted we exchanged rings, and vowed eternal constancy. She heard that I was deadbelieved ityet remained constant to the dead. She heard again that I was livingyet became faithless to the living. I flew into her armswas happy asthe blest in Paradise. Think what my heart was doomed to feel, Amelia! She gave me back my ringshe took her own. AMELIA (her eyes fixed on the earth in amazement). 'Tis strange, most strange! 'Tis horrible! MOOR. Ay, strange and horrible! My child, there is muchay, much for man to learn ere his poor intellect can fathom the decrees of Him who smiles at human vows and weeps at human projects. My Amelia is an unfortunate maiden! AMELIA. Unfortunate! Because she rejected you? MOOR. Unfortunate. Because she embraced the man she betrayed. AMELIA (with melancholy tenderness). Oh, then, she is indeed unfortunate! From my soul I pity her! She shall be my sister. But there is another and a better world.\" CHARLES. He is no more? AMELIA. He sails on troubled seasAmelia's love sails with him. He wanders through pathless, sandy desertsAmelia's love clothes the burning sand with verdure, and the barren shrubs with flowers. Southern suits scorch his bare head, northern snows pinch his feet, tempestuous hail beats down on his temples, but Amelia's love lulls him to sleep in the midst of the storm. Seas, and mountains, and skies, divide the loversbut their souls rise above this prisonhouse of clay, and meet in the paradise of love. You appear sad, count! CHARLES. These words of love rekindle my love. AMELIA (pale). What? You love another? Alas! what have I said? CHARLES. She believed me dead, and in my supposed death she remained faithful to meshe heard again that I was alive, and she sacrificed for me the crown of a saint. She knows that I am wandering in deserts, and roaming about in misery, yet her love follows me on wings through deserts and through misery. Her name, too, like yours, is Amelia. AMELIA. How I envy your Amelia! CHARLES. Oh, she is an unhappy maid. Her love is fixed upon one who is lostand it can nevernever be rewarded. AMELIA. Say not so! It will be rewarded in heaven. Is it not agreed that there is a better world, where mourners rejoice, and where lovers meet again? CHARLES. Yes, a world where the veil is liftedwhere the phantom love will make terrible discoveriesEternity is its name. My Amelia is an unhappy maid. AMELIA. Unhappy, and loves you? In the acting edition the scene closes with a different denouement. Amelia here says, \"Are all unhappy who live with you, and bear the name of Amelia. \"CHARLES. Yes, allwhen they think they embrace an angel, and find in their armsa murderer. Alas, for my Amelia! She is indeed unfortunate. \"AMELIA (with an expression of deep affliction). Oh, I must weep for her. \"CHARLES (grasping her hand, and pointing to the ring). Weep for thyself. \"AMELIA (recognizing the ring). Charles! Charles! O heaven and earth! (She sinks fainting; the scene closes.)\" CHARLES. Unhappy, because she loves me! What if I were a murderer? How, Lady Amelia, if your lover could reckon you up a murder for every one of your kisses? Woe to my Amelia! She is an unhappy maid. AMELIA (gayly rising). Ha! What a happy maid am I! My only one is a reflection of Deity, and Deity is mercy and compassion! He could not bear to see a fly suffer. His soul is as far from every thought of blood as the sun is from the moon. (CHARLES suddenly turns away into a thicket, and looks wildly out into the landscape. AMELIA sings, playing the guitar.) Oh! Hector, wilt thou go forevermore, Where fierce Achilles, on the bloodstained shore, Heaps countless victims o'er Patroclus' grave? Who then thy hapless orphan boy will rear, Teach him to praise the gods and hurl the spear, When thou art swallowed up in Xanthus' wave? CHARLES (silently tunes the guitar, and plays). Beloved wife!stern duty calls to arms Go, fetch my lance! and cease those vain alarms! He flings the guitar away, and rushes off. SCENE V.A neighboring forest. Night. An old ruined castle in the centre of the scene. The band of ROBBERS encamped on the ground. The ROBBERS singing. To rob, to kill, to wench, to fight, Our pastime is, and daily sport; The gibbet claims us morn and night, So let's be jolly, time is short. A merry life we lead, and free, A life of endless fun; Our couch is 'neath the greenwood tree, Through wind and storm we gain our fee, The moon we make our sun. Old Mercury is our patron true, And a capital chap for helping us through. Today we make the abbot our host, The farmer rich tomorrow; And where we shall get our next day's roast, Gives us nor care nor sorrow. And, when with Rhenish and rare Moselle Our throats we have been oiling, Our courage burns with a fiercer swell, And we're hand and glove with the Lord of Hell, Who down in his flames is broiling. For fathers slain the orphans' cries, The widowed mothers' moan and wail, Of brides bereaved the whimpering sighs, Like music sweet, our ears regale. Beneath the axe to see them writhe, Bellow like calves, fall dead like flies; Such bonny sights, and sounds so blithe, With rapture fill our ears and eyes. And when at last our deathknell rings The devil take that hour! Payment in full the hangman brings, And off the stage we scour. On the road a glass of good liquor or so, Then hip! hip! hip! and away we go! SCHWEITZER. The night is far advanced, and the captain has not yet returned. RAZ. And yet he promised to be back before the clock struck eight. SCHWEITZER. Should any harm have befallen him, comrades, wouldn't we kindle fires! ay, and murder sucking babes? SPIEGEL. (takes RAZMANN aside). A word in your ear, Razmann! SCHWARZ (to GRIMM). Should we not send out scouts? GRIMM. Let him alone. He no doubt has some feat in hand that will put us to shame. SCHWEITZER. Then you are out, by old Harry! He did not part from us like one that had any masterpiece of roguery in view. Have you forgotten what he said as he marched us across the heath? \"The fellow that takes so much as a turnip out of a field, if I know it, leaves his head behind him, as true as my name is Moor.\" We dare not plunder. RAZ. (aside to SPIEGELBERG). What are you driving at? Speak plainer. SPIEGEL. Hush! hush! I know not what sort of a notion you and I have of liberty, that we should toil under the yoke like bullocks, while we are making such wonderful fine speeches about independence. I like it not. SCHWEITZER (to GRIMM). What crotchet has that swaggering booby got in his numskull, I wonder? RAZ. (aside to SPIEGELBERG). Is it the captain you mean? SPIEGEL. Hush! I tell you; hush! He has got his eavesdroppers all around us. Captain, did you say? Who made him captain over us? Has he not, in fact, usurped that title, which by right belongs to me? What? Is it for this that we stake our livesthat we endure all the splenetic caprices of fortunesthat we may in the end congratulate ourselves upon being the serfs of a slave? Serfs! When we might be princes? By heaven! Razmann, I could never brook it. SCHWEITZER (overhearing himto the others). Yesthere's a hero for you! He is just the man to do mighty execution upon frogs with stones. The very breath of his nostrils, when he sneezes, would blow you through the eye of a needle. SPIEGEL. (to RAZMANN). Yesand for years I have been intent upon it. There must be an alteration, Razmann. If you are the man I always took you forRazmann! He is missinghe is almost given upRazmann methinks his hour is come. What? does not the color so much as mount to your cheek when you hear the chimes of liberty ringing in your ears? Have you not courage enough to take the hint? RAZ. Ha! Satan! What bait art thou spreading for my soul? SPIEGEL. Does it take? Good! then follow me! I have marked in what direction he slunk off. Come along! a brace of pistols seldom fail; and thenwe shall be the first to strangle sucking babes. (He endeavors to draw him of.) SCHWEITZER (enraged, draws his sword). Ha! caitiff! I have overheard you! You remind me, at the right moment, of the Bohemian forest! Were not you the coward that began to quail when the cry arose, \"the enemy is coming!\" I then swore by my soul(They fight, SPIEGELBERG is killed.) To the devil with thee, assassin! ROBBERS (in agitation). Murder! murder!Schweitzer!Spiegelberg! Part them! SCHWEITZER (throwing the sword on the body). There let him rot! Be still, my comrades! Don't let such a trifle disturb you. The brute has always been inveterate against the captain and has not a single scar on his whole body. Once more, be still. Ha, the scoundrel! He would stab a man behind his backskulk and murder! Is it for this that the hot sweat has poured down us in streams? that we may sneak out of the world at last like contemptible wretches? The brute! Is it for this that we have lived in fire and brimstone? To perish at last like rats? GRIMM. But what the devil, comrade, were you after? What were you quarreling about? The captain will be furious. SCHWEITZER. Be that on my head. And you, wretch (to RAZMANN) you were his accomplice, you! Get out of my sight! Schufterle was another of your kidney, but he has met his deserts in Switzerlandhas been hanged, as the captain prophesied. (A shot is heard.) SCHWARZ (jumping up). Hark! a pistol shot! (Another shot is heard.) Another! Hallo! the captain! GRIMM. Patience! If it be he, there will be a third. (The third shot is heard.) SCHWARZ. 'Tis he! 'Tis the captain! Absent yourself awhile, Schweitzertill we explain to him! (They fire.) Enter CHARLES VON MOOR and KOSINSKY. SCHWEITZER (running to meet them). Welcome, captain. I have been somewhat choleric in your absence. (He conducts him to the corpse.) Be you judge between him and me. He meant to waylay and assassinate you. ROBBERS (in consternation). What; the captain? CHARLES (after fixing his eyes for some time upon the corpse, with a sudden burst of feeling). Oh, incomprehensible finger of the avenging Nemesis! Was it not he whose siren song seduced me to be what I am? Let this sword be consecrated to the dark goddess of retribution! That was not thy deed, Schweitzer. SCHWEITZER. By heaven, it was mine, though! and, as the devil lives, it is not the worst deed I have done in my time. (Turns away moodily.) CHARLES (absorbed in thought). I comprehendGreat Ruler in heaven I comprehend. The leaves fall from the trees, and my autumn is come. Remove this object from my sight! (The corpse of SPIEGELBERG is carried out.) GRIMM. Give us your orders, captain! What shall we do next? CHARLES. Soonvery soonall will be accomplished. Hand me my lute; I have lost myself since I have been there. My lute, I sayI must nurse up my strength again. Leave me! ROBBERS. 'Tis midnight, captain. CHARLES. They were only stage tears after all. Let me bring to memory the song of the old Roman, that my slumbering genius may wake up again. Hand me my lute. Midnight, say you? SCHWARZ. Yes, and past, too! Our eyes are as heavy as lead. For three days we have not slept a wink. CHARLES. What? does balmy sleep visit the eyes of murderers? Why doth it flee mine? I never was a coward, nor a villain. Lay yourselves to rest. At daybreak we march. ROBBERS. Good night, captain. (They stretch them selves on the ground and fall asleep.) Profound silence. CHARLES VON MOOR takes up his guitar, and plays. BRUTUS. Oh, be ye welcome, realms of peace and rest! Receive the last of all the sons of Rome! From dread Philippi's field, where all the best Fell bleeding in her cause, I wearied come. Cassius, no more! And Rome now prostrate laid! My brethren all lie weltering in their gore! No refuge left but Hades' gloomy shade; No hope remains!No world for Brutus more! CAESAR. Who's he that, with a hero's lofty bearing, Comes striding o'er yon mountain's rocky bed? Unless my eyes deceive, that noble daring Bespeaks the Roman warrior's fearless tread. Whence, son of Tiber, do thy footsteps bend! Say, stands the sevenhilled city firmly yet? No Caesar there, to be the soldiers friend! Full oft has he that orphaned city wept. BRUTUS. Ha! thou of threeandtwenty wounds! Avaunt! Thou unblest shade, what calls thee back to light? Down with thee, down, to Pluto's deepest haunt, And shroud thy form in black, eternal night, Proud mourner! triumph not to learn our fall! Phillippi's altars reek with freedom's blood? The bier of Brutus is Rome's funeral pall; He Minos seeks. Hence to thy Stygian flood! CAESAR. That deathstroke, Brutus, which thy weapon hurled! Thou, too, Brutus?that thou shouldst be my foe! Oh, son! It was thy father! Son! The world Was thine by heritage! Now proudly go, Well mayst thou claim to be the chief in glory, 'Twas thy fell sword that pierced thy father's heart! Now goand at yon gates relate thy story Say Brutus claims to be the chief in glory, 'Twas his fell sword that pierced his father's heart! GoNow thou'rt told what staid me on this shore, Grim ferryman, push off, and swiftly ply thine oar. BRUTUS. Stay, father, stay! Within the whole bright round Of Sol's diurnal course I knew but one Who to compare with Caesar could be found; And that one, Caesar, thou didst call thy son! 'Twas only Caesar could destroy a Rome; Brutus alone that Caesar could withstand Where Brutus lives, must Caesar die! Thy home Be far from mine. I'll seek another land. He lays down his guitar, and walks to and fro in deep meditation. Who will give me certainty! All is so darka confused labyrinthno outletno guiding star. Were but all to end with this last gasp of breath. To end, like an empty puppetshow. But why then this burning thirst after happiness? Wherefore this ideal of unattained perfection? This looking to an hereafter for the fulfilment of our hopes? If the paltry pressure of this paltry thing (putting a pistol to his head) makes the wise man and the foolthe coward and the bravethe noble and the villain equal?the harmony which pervades the inanimate world is so divinely perfectwhy, then, should there be such discord in the intellectual? No! no! there must be something beyond, for I have not yet attained to happiness. Think ye that I will tremble, spirits of my slaughtered victims? No, I will not tremble. (Trembling violently.) The shrieks of your dying agoniesyour black, convulsive featuresyour ghastly bleeding wounds what are they all but links of one indissoluble chain of destiny, which hung upon the temperament of my father, the life's blood of my mother, the humors of my nurses and tutors, and even upon the holiday pastimes of my childhood! (Shaking with horror.) Why has my Perillus made of me a brazen bull, whose burning entrails yearn after human flesh? (He lifts the pistol again to his head.) Time and Eternity!linked together by a single instant! Fearful key, which locks behind me the prisonhouse of life, and opens before me the habitations of eternal nighttell meoh, tell mewhitherwhither wilt thou lead me? Strange, unexplored land! Humanity is unnerved at the fearful thought, the elasticity of our finite nature is paralyzed, and fancy, that wanton ape of the senses, juggles our credulity with appalling phantoms. No! no! a man must be firm. Be what thou wilt, thou undefined futurity, so I remain but true to myself. Be what thou wilt, so I but take this inward self hence with me. External forms are but the trappings of the man. My heaven and my hell is within. What if Thou shouldst doom me to be sole inhabitant of some burntout world which thou hast banished from thy sight, where darkness and neverending desolation were all my prospect; then would my creative brain people the silent waste with its own images, and I should have eternity for leisure to unravel the complicated picture of universal wretchedness. Or wilt thou make me pass through everrepeated births and everchanging scenes of misery, stage by stageto annihilation? This and other passages will remind the reader of Cato's soliloquy \"It must be so, Plato; thou reasonest well.\" But the whole bears a strong resemblance to Hamlet's \"To be or not to be;\" and some passages in Measure for Measure, Act iii, Sc. 1. Can I not burst asunder the lifethreads woven for me in another world as easily as I do these? Thou mayest reduce me into nothing; but Thou canst not take from me this power. (He loads the pistol, and then suddenly pauses.) And shall I then rush into death from a coward fear of the ills of life? Shall I yield to misery the palm of victory over myself? No! I will endure it! (He flings the pistol away.) Misery shall blunt its edge against my pride! Be my destiny fulfilled! (It grows darker and darker.) HERMANN (coming through the forest). Hark! hark! the owl screeches horriblythe village clock strikes twelve. Well, wellvillainy is asleepno listeners in these wilds. (He goes to the castle and knocks.) Come forth, thou man of sorrow! tenant of the miserable dungeon! thy meal awaits thee. CHARLES (stepping gently back, unperceived). What means this? VOICE (from within the castle). Who knocks? Is it you, Hermann, my raven? HERMANN. Yes, 'tis Hermann, your raven. Come to the grating and eat. (Owls are screeching.) Your night companions make a horrid noise, old man! Do you relish your repast? VOICE. YesI was very hungry. Thanks to thee, thou merciful sender of ravens, for this thy bread in the wilderness! And how is my dear child, Hermann? HERMANN. Hush!hark!A noise like snoring! Don't you hear something? VOICE. What? Do you hear anything? HERMANN. 'Tis the whistling of the wind through the crannies of the towera serenading which makes one's teeth chatter, and one's nails turn blue. Hark! tis there again. I still fancy I hear snoring. You have company, old man. Ugh! ugh! ugh! VOICE. Do you see anything? HERMANN. Farewell! farewell! this is a fearful place. Go down into your bole,thy deliverer, thy avenger is above. Oh! accursed son! (Is about to fly.) CHARLES (stepping forth with horror). Stand! HERMANN (screaming). Oh, me! In the acting edition Hermann, instead of this, says, 'Tis one of his spies for certain, I have lost all fear (draws his sword). Villain, defend yourself! You have a man before you. MOOR. I'll have an answer (strikes the sword out of his hand). What boots this childish swordplay? Didst thou not speak of vengeance? Vengeance belongs especially to meof all men on earth. Who dares interfere with my vocation? HERMANN (starts back in affright). By heaven! That man was not born of woman. His touch withers like the stroke of death. VOICE. Alas, Hermann! to whom are you speaking? MOOR. What! still those sounds? What is going on there? (Runs towards the tower.) Some horrible mystery, no doubt, lies concealed in that tower. This sword shall bring it to light. HERMANN (comes forward trembling). Terrible stranger! art thou the demon of this fearful desertor perhaps 'one of the ministers of that unfathonable retribution who make their circuit in this lower world, and take account of all the deeds of darkness? Oh! if thou art, be welcome to this tower of horrors! MOOR. Well guessed, wanderer of the night! You have divined my function. Exterminating Angel is my name; but I am flesh and blood like thee. Is this some miserable wretch, cast out of men, and buried in this dungeon? I will loosen his chains. Once more, speak! thou voice of terror Where is the door? HERMANN. As soon could Satan force the gates of heaven as thou that door. Retire, thou man of might! The genius of the wicked is beyond the ordinary powers of man. MOOR. But not the craft of robbers. (He takes some passkeys from his pocket.) For once I thank heaven I've learned that craft! These keys would mock hell's foresight. (He takes a key, and opens the gate of the tower. An old man comes from below emaciated like a skeleton. MOOR springs back with of right.) Horrible spectre! my father! CHARLES. Stand! I say. HERMANN. Woe! woe! woe! now all is discovered! CHARLES. Speak! Who art thou? What brought thee here? Speak! HERMANN. Mercy, mercy! gracious sir! Hear but one word before you kill me. CHARLES (drawing his sword). What am I to hear? HERMANN. 'Tis true, he forbade me at the peril of my lifebut I could not help itI dare not do otherwisea God in heavenyour own venerable father therepity for him overcame me. Kill me, if you will! CHARLES. There's some mystery hereOut with it! Speak! I must know all. VOICE (from the castle). Woe! woe! Is it you, Hermann, that are speaking? To whom are you speaking, Hermann? CHARLES. Some one else down there? What is the meaning of all this? (Runs towards the castle.) It is some prisoner whom mankind have cast off! I will loosen his chains. Voice! Speak! Where is the door? HERMANN. Oh, have mercy, sirseek no further, I entreatfor mercy's sake desist! (He stops his way.) CHARLES. Locks, bolts, and bars, away! It must come out. Now, for the first time, come to my aid, thiefcraft! (He opens the grated iron door with, housebreaking tools. An OLD MAN, reduced to a skeleton, comes up from below.) THE OLD MAN. Mercy on a poor wretch! Mercy! CHARLES (starts back in terror). That is my father's voice! OLD MOOR. I thank thee, merciful Heaven! The hour of deliverance has arrived. CHARLES. Shade of the aged Moor! what has disturbed thee in thy grave? Has thy soul left this earth charged with some foul crime that bars the gates of Paradise against thee? Say?I will have masses read, to send thy wandering spirit to its home. Hast thou buried in the earth the gold of widows and orphans, that thou art driven to wander howling through the midnight hour? I will snatch the hidden treasure from the clutches of the infernal dragon, though he should vomit a thousand redhot flames upon me, and gnash his sharp teeth against my sword. Or comest thou, at my request, to reveal to me the mysteries of eternity? Speak, thou! speak! I am not the man to blanch with fear! OLD MOOR. I am not a spirit. Touch meI live but oh! a life indeed of misery! CHARLES. What! hast thou not been buried? OLD MOOR. I was buriedthat is to say, a dead dog lies in the vault of my ancestors, and I have been pining for three long moons in this dark and loathsome dungeon, where no sunbeam shines, no warm breeze penetrates, where no friend is seen, where the hoarse raven croaks and owls screech their midnight concert. CHARLES. Heaven and earth! Who has done this? OLD MOOR. Curse him not! 'Tis my son, Francis, who did this. CHARLES. Francis? Francis? Oh, eternal chaos! OLD MOOR. If thou art a man, and hast a human heartoh! my unknown delivererthen listen to a father's miseries which his own sons have heaped upon him. For three long moons I have moaned my pitiful tale to these flinty wallsbut all my answer was an empty echo, that seemed to mock my wailings. Therefore, if thou art a man, and hast a human heart CHARLES. That appeal might move even wild beasts to pity. OLD MOOR. I lay upon a sick bed, and had scarcely begun to recover a little strength, after a dangerous illness, when a man was brought to me, who pretended that my firstborn had fallen in battle. He brought a sword stained with his blood, and his last farewelland said that my curse had driven him into battle, and death, and despair. CHARLES (turning away in violent agitation). The light breaks in upon me! OLD MOOR. Hear me on! I fainted at the dreadful news. They must have thought me dead; for, when I recovered my senses, I was already in my coffin, shrouded like a corpse. I scratched against the lid. It was opened'twas in the dead of nightmy son Francis stood before me \"What!\" said he, with a tremendous voice, \"wilt thou then live forever?\" and with this he slammedto the lid of the coffin. The thunder of these words bereft me of my senses; when I awoke again, I felt that the coffin was in motion, and being borne on wheels. At last it was opened I found myself at the entrance of this dungeonmy son stood before me, and the man, too, who had brought me the bloody sword from Charles. I fell at my son's feet, and ten times I embraced his knees, and wept, and conjured, and supplicated, but the supplications of a father reached not his flinty heart. \"Down with the old carcass!\" said he, with a voice of thunder, \"he has lived too long;\"and I was thrust down without mercy, and my son Francis closed the door upon Me. CHARLES. Impossible!impossible! Your memory or senses deceive you. OLD MOOR. Oh, that it were so! But hear me on, and restrain your rage! There I lay for twenty hours, and not a soul cared for my misery. No human footstep treads this solitary wild, for 'tis commonly believed that the ghosts of my ancestors drag clanking chains through these ruins, and chant their funeral dirge at the hour of midnight. At last I heard the door creak again on its hinges; this man opened it, and brought me bread and water. He told me that I had been condemned to die of hunger, and that his life was in danger should it be discovered that he fed me. Thus has my miserable existence been till now sustainedbut the unceasing coldthe foul air of my filthy dungeonmy incurable griefhave exhausted my strength, and reduced my body to a skeleton. A thousand times have I implored heaven, with tears, to put an end to my sufferingsbut doubtless the measure of my punishment is not fulfilled,or some happiness must be yet in store for me, for which he deigns thus miraculously to preserve me. But I suffer justlymy Charles! my Charles!and before there was even a gray hair on his Head! CHARLES. Enough! Rise! ye stocks, ye lumps of ice! ye lazy unfeeling sleepers! Up! will none of you awake? (He fires a pistol over their heads.) THE ROBBERS (starting up). Ho! hallo! hallo! what is the matter? CHARLES. Has not that tale shaken you out of your sleep? 'Tis enough to break the sleep eternal! See here, see here! The laws of the world have become mere diceplay; the bonds of nature are burst asunder; the Demon of Discord has broken loose, and stalks abroad triumphant! the Son has slain his Father! THE ROBBERS. What does the captain say? CHARLES. Slain! did I say? No, that is too mild a term! A son has a thousandfold broken his own father on the wheel,impaled, racked, flayed him alive!but all these words are too feeble to express what would make sin itself blush and cannibals shudder. For ages, no devil ever conceived a deed so horrible. His own father!but see, see him! he has fainted away! His own fatherthe soninto this dungeoncold nakedhungryathirstOh! see, I pray you, see!'tis my own father, in very truth it is. THE ROBBERS (come running and surround the old man). Your father? Yours? SCHWEITZER (approaches him reverently, and falls on his knees before him). Father of my captain! let me kiss thy feet! My dagger is at thy command. CHARLES. Revenge, revenge, revenge! thou horribly injured, profaned old man! Thus, from this moment, and forever, I rend in twain all ties of fraternity. (He rends his garment from top to bottom.) Here, in the face of heaven, I curse himcurse every drop of blood which flows in his veins! Hear me, O moon and stars! and thou black canopy of night, that lookest down upon this horror! Hear me, thrice terrible avenger. Thou who reignest above yon pallid orb, who sittest an avenger and a judge above the stars, and dartest thy fiery bolts through darkness on the head of guilt! Behold me on my knees behold me raise this hand aloft in the gloom of nightand hear my oathand may nature vomit me forth as some horrible abortion from out the circle of her works if I break that oath! Here I swear that I will never more greet the light of day, till the blood of that foul parricide, spilt upon this stone, reeks in misty vapor towards heaven. (He rises.) ROBBERS. 'Tis a deed of hell! After this, who shall call us villains? No! by all the dragons of darkness we never have done anything half so horrible. CHARLES. True! and by all the fearful groans of those whom your daggers have despatchedof those who on that terrible day were consumed by fire, or crushed by the falling towerno thought of murder or rapine shall be harbored in your breast, till every man among you has dyed his garments scarlet in this monster's blood. It never, I should think, entered your dreams, that it would fall to your lot to execute the great decrees of heaven? The tangled web of our destiny is unravelled! Today, today, an invisible power has ennobled our craft! Worship Him who has called you to this high destiny, who has conducted you hither, and deemed ye worthy to be the terrible angels of his inscrutable judgments! Uncover your heads! Bow down and kiss the dust, and rise up sanctified. (They kneel.) SCHWEITZER. Now, captain, issue your commands! What shall we do? CHARLES. Rise, Schweitzer! and touch these sacred locks! (Leading him to his father, and putting a lock of hair in his hand.) Do you remember still, how you, cleft the skull of that Bohemian trooper, at the moment his sabre was descending on my head, and I had sunk down on my knees, breathless and exhausted? 'Twas then I promised thee a reward that should be right royal. But to this hour I have never been able to discharge that debt. SCHWEITZER. You swore that much to me, 'tis true; but let me call you my debtor forever! CHARLES. No; now will I repay thee, Schweitzer! No mortal has yet been honored as thou shalt be. I appoint thee avenger of my father's wrongs! (SCHWEITZER rises.) SCHWEITZER. Mighty captain! this day you have, for the first time, made me truly proud! Say, when, where, how shall I smite him? CHARLES. The minutes are sacred. You must hasten to the work. Choose the best of the band, and lead them straight to the count's castle! Drag him from his bed, though he sleep, or he folded in the arms of pleasure! Drag him from the table, though he be drunk! Tear him from the crucifix, though he lie on his knees before it! But mark my words I charge thee, deliver him into my hands alive! I will hew that man to pieces, and feed the hungry vultures with his flesh, who dares but graze his skin, or injure a single hair of his head! I must have him whole. Bring him to me whole and alive, and a million shall be thy reward. I'll plunder kings at the risk of my life, but thou shalt have it, and go free as air. Thou hast my purposesee it done! SCHWEITZER. Enough, captain! here is my hand upon it. You shall see both of us, or neither. Come, Schweitzer's destroying angels, follow me! (Exit with a troop.) CHARLES. The rest of you disperse in the forestI remain here. ACT V. SCENE I. A vista of rooms. Dark night. Enter DANIEL, with a lantern and a bundle. DANIEL. Farewell, dear home! How many happy days have I enjoyed within these walls, while my old master lived. Tears to thy memory, thou whom the grave has long since devoured! He deserves this tribute from an old servant. His roof was the asylum of orphans, the refuge of the destitute, but this son has made it a den of murderers. Farewell, thou dear floor! How often has old Daniel scrubbed thee! Farewell, dear stove, old Daniel takes a heavy leave of thee. All things had grown so familiar to thee,thou wilt feel it sorely, old Eleazar. But heaven preserve me through grace from the wiles and assault of the tempter. Empty I came hitherempty I will depart,but my soul is saved! (He is in the act of going out, when he is met by FRANCIS, rushing in, in his dressinggown.) Heaven help me! Master! (He puts out his lantern.) FRANCIS. Betrayed! betrayed! The spirit of the dead are vomited from their graves. The realm of death, shaken out of its eternal slumber, roars at me, \"Murderer, murderer!\" Who moves there? DANIEL (frightened). Help, holy Virgin! help! Is it you, my gracious master, whose shrieks echo so terribly through the castle that every one is aroused out of his sleep? FRANCIS. Sleep? And who gave thee leave to sleep? Go, get lights! (Exit DANIEL. Enter another servant.) No one shall sleep at this hour. Do you hear? All shall be awakein armslet the guns be loaded! Did you not see them rushing through yon vaulted passages? SERVANT. See whom, my lord? FRANCIS. Whom? you dolt, slave! And do you, with a cold and vacant stare, ask me whom? Have they not beset me almost to madness? Whom? blockhead! whom? Ghosts and demons! How far is the night advanced? SERVANT. The watch has just called two. FRANCIS. What? will this eternal night last till doomsday? Did you hear no tumult near? no shout of victory? no trampling of horses? Where is Charthe Count, I would say? SERVANT. I know not, my lord. FRANCIS. You know not? And are you too one of his gang? I'll tread your villain's heart out through your ribs for that infernal \"I know not!\" Begone, fetch the minister! SERVANT. My lord! FRANCIS. What! Do you grumble? Do you demur? (Exit servant hastily.) Do my very slaves conspire against me? Heaven, earth, and hellall conspire against me! DANIEL (returns with a lighted candle). My lord! FRANCIS. Who said I trembled? No!'twas but a dream. The dead still rest in their graves! Tremble! or pale? No, no! I am calmquite tranquil. DANIEL. You are as pale as death, my lord; your voice is weak and faltering. FRANCIS. I am somewhat feverish. When the minister comes be sure you say I am in a fever. Say that I intend to be bled in the morning. DANIEL. Shall I give you some drops of the balsam of life on sugar? FRANCIS. Yes, balsam of life on sugar! The minister will not be here just yet. My voice is weak and faltering. Give me of the balsam of life on sugar! DANIEL. Let me have the keys, I will go down to the closet and get it. FRANCIS. No! no! no! Stay!or I will go with you. You see I must not be left alone! How easily I might, you seefaintif I should be left alone. Never mind, never mind! It will pass offyou must not leave me. DANIEL. Indeed, Sir, you are ill, very ill. FRANCIS. Yes, just so, just so, nothing more. And illness, you know, bewilders the brain, and breeds strange and maddening dreams. What signify dreams? Dreams come from the stomach and cannot signify anything. Is it not so, Daniel? I had a very comical dream just now. (He sinks down fainting.) DANIEL. Oh, merciful heaven! what is this? George!Conrad! Sebastian! Martin! Give but some sign of life! (Shaking him.) Oh, the Blessed Virgin! Oh, Joseph! Keep but your reason! They will say I have murdered him! Lord have mercy upon me! FRANCIS (confused). Avaunt!avaunt!why dost thou glare upon me thus, thou horrible spectre? The time for the resurrection of the dead is not yet come. DANIEL. Merciful heavens! he has lost his senses. FRANCIS (recovering himself gradually). Where am I? You here, Daniel? What have I said? Heed it not. I have told a lie, whatever I said. Come, help me up! 'T was only a fit of deliriumbecausebecauseI have not finished my night's rest. DANIEL. If John were but here! I'll call for helpI'll send for the physician. FRANCIS. Stay! Seat yourself by my side on this sofa! There. You are a sensible man, a good man. Listen to my dream! DANIEL. Not now; another time! Let me lead you to bed; you have great need of rest. FRANCIS. No, no; I prythee, listen, Daniel, and have a good laugh at me. You must know I fancied that I held a princely banquet, my heart was merry, and I lay stretched on the turf in the castle garden; and all on a suddenit was at middayand all on a suddenbut mind you have a good laugh at me! DANIEL. All on a sudden. FRANCIS. All on a sudden a tremendous peal of thunder struck upon my slumbering ear; I started up staggering and trembling; and lo, it seemed as if the whole hemisphere had burst forth in one flaming sheet of fire, and mountains, and cities, and forests melted away like wax in the furnace; and then rose a howling whirlwind, which swept before it the earth, and the sea, and heaven; then came a sound, as from brazen trumpets, \"Earth, give up thy dead: sea, give up thy dead!\" and the open plains began to heave, and to cast up skulls, and ribs, and jawbones, and legs, which drew together into human bodies, and then came sweeping along in dense, interminable massesa living deluge. Then I looked up, and lo! I stood at the foot of the thundering Sinai, and above me was a multitude, and below me a multitude; and on the summit of the mountain, on three smoking thrones, sat three men, before whose gaze all creation trembled. DANIEL. Why, this is a living picture of the day of judgment. FRANCIS. Did I not tell you? Is it not ridiculous stuff? And one stepped forth who, to look upon, was like a starlight night; he had in his hand a signet ring of iron, which he held up between the east and the west, and said, \"Eternal, holy, just, immutable! There is but one truth; there is but one virtue! Woe, woe, woe! to the doubting sinner!\" Then stepped forth a second, who had in his hand a flashing mirror, which he held up between the east and west, and said, \"This is the mirror of truth; hypocrisy and deceit cannot look on it.\" Then was I terrified, and so were all, for we saw the forms of snakes, and tigers, and leopards reflected from that fearful mirror. Then stepped forth a third, who had in his hand a brazen balance, which he held up between the east and the west, and said, \"Approach, ye sons of Adam! I weigh your thoughts in the balance of my wrath! and your deeds with the weight of my fury!\" DANIEL. The Lord have mercy upon me! FRANCIS. They all stood pale and trembling, and every heart was panting with fearful expectation. Then it seemed to me as if I heard my name called the first from out the thunders of the mountain, and the innermost marrow froze within my bones, and my teeth chattered loudly. Presently the clang of the balance was heard, the rocks sent forth thunders, and the hours glided by, one after the other, towards the left scale, and each threw into it a mortal sin! DANIEL. Oh, may God forgive you! FRANCIS. He forgave me not! The left scale grew mountains high, but the other, filled with the blood of atonement, still outweighed it. At last came an old man, heavily bowed down with grief, his arm gnawed through with raging hunger. Every eye turned away in horror from the sight. I knew the manhe cut off a lock of his silver hair, and cast it into the scale of my sins, when to! in an instant, it sank down to the abyss, and the scale of atonement flew up on high. Then heard I a voice, issuing like thunder from the bowels Some editions of the original read Rauch (smoke), some Bauch, as translated. of the mountain, \"Pardon, pardon to every sinner of the earth and of the deep! Thou alone art rejected!\" (A profound pause.) Well, why don't you laugh? DANIEL. Can I laugh while my flesh creeps? Dreams come from above. FRANCIS. Pshaw! pshaw! Say not so! Call me a fool, an idiot, an absurd fool! Do, there's a good Daniel, I entreat of you; have a hearty laugh at me! DANIEL. Dreams come from God. I will pray for you. FRANCIS. Thou liest, I tell thee. Go, this instant, run! be quick! see where the minister tarries all this time; tell him to come quickly, instantly! But, I tell thee, thou liest! DANIEL. Heaven have mercy upon you! Exit. FRANCIS. Vulgar prejudice! mere superstition! It has not yet been proved that the past is not past and forgotten, or that there is an eye above this earth to take account of what passes on it. Humph! Humph! But whence, then, this fearful whisper to my soul? Is there really an avenging judge above the stars? No, no! Yes, yes! A fearful monitor within bears witness that there is One above the stars who judgeth! What! meet the avenger above the stars this very night? No, no! I say. All is empty, lonely, desolate, beyond the stars. Miserable subterfuge, beneath which thy cowardice seeks to hide itself. And if there should be something in it after all? No! no! it cannot be. I insist that it cannot be! But yet, if there should be! Woe to thee if thy sins should all have been registered above!if they should be counted over to thee this very night! Why creeps this shudder through my frame? To die! Why does that word frighten me thus? To give an account to the Avenger, there, above the stars! and if he should be justthe wails of orphans and widows, of the oppressed, the tormented, ascending to his ears, and he be just? Why have they been afflicted? And why have I been permitted to trample upon them? Enter PASTOR MOSER. MOSER. Your lordship sent for me! I am surprised! The first time in my life! Is it to scoff at religion, or does it begin to make you tremble? FRANCIS. I may scoff or I may tremble, according as you shall answer me. Listen to me, Moser, I will prove that you are a fool, or wish to make fools of others, and you shall answer me. Do you hear? At the peril of your life you shall answer me. MOSER. 'Tis a higher Being whom you summon before your tribunal. He will answer you hereafter. FRANCIS. I will be answered now, this instant, that I may not commit the contemptible folly of calling upon the idol of the vulgar under the pressure of suffering. I have often, in bumpers of Burgundy, tauntingly pledged you in the toast, \"There is no God!\" Now I address myself to you in earnest, and I tell you there is none? You shall oppose me with all the weapons in your power; but with the breath of my lips I will blow them away. MOSER. 'Twere well that you could also blow away the thunder which will alight upon your proud soul with ten thousand times ten thousand tons' weight! That omniscient God, whom youfool and miscreantare denying in the midst of his creation, needeth not to justify himself by the mouth of dust. He is as great in your tyrannies as in the sweetest smile of triumphant virtue. FRANCIS. Uncommonly well said, parson. Thus I like you. MOSER. I stand here as steward of a greater Master, and am addressing one who, like myself, is a sinnerone whom I care not to please. I must indeed be able to work miracles, to extort the acknowledgment from your obdurate wickednessbut if your conviction is so firm, why have you sent for me in the middle of the night? FRANCIS. Because time hangs heavy on my hands, and the chessboard has ceased to have any attraction. I wish to amuse myself in a tilt with the parson. Your empty terrors will not unman my courage. I am well aware that those who have come off short in this world look forward to eternity; but they will be sadly disappointed. I have always read that our whole body is nothing more than a bloodspring, and that, with its last drop, mind and thought dissolve into nothing. They share all the infirmities of the body; why, then, should they not cease with its dissolution? Why not evaporate in its decomposition? Let a drop of water stray into your brain, and life makes a sudden pause, which borders on nonexistence, and this pause continued is death. Sensation is the vibration of a few chords, which, when the instrument is broken, cease to sound. If I raze my seven castlesif I dash this Venus to piecesthere is an end of their symmetry and beauty. Behold! thus is it with your immortal soul! MOSER. So says the philosophy of your despair. But your own heart, which knocks against your ribs with terror even while you thus argue, gives your tongue the lie. These cobwebs of systems are swept away by the single word\"Thou must die!\" I challenge you, and be this the test: If you maintain your firmness in the hour of death; if your principles do not then miserably desert you, you shall be admitted to have the best of the argument. But if, in that dread hour, the least shudder creeps over you, then woe be to you! you have deceived yourself. FRANCIS (disturbed). If in the hour of death a shudder creeps over me? MOSER. I have seen many such wretches before now, who set truth at defiance up to that point; but at the approach of death the illusion vanished. I will stand at your bedside when you are dyingI should much like to see a tyrant die. I will stand by, and look you steadfastly in the face when the physician takes your cold, clammy hand, and is scarcely able to detect your expiring pulse; and when he looks up, and, with a fearful shake of the head, says to you, \"All human aid is in vain!\" Beware, at that moment, beware, lest you look like Richard and Nero! FRANCIS. No! no! MOSER. Even that very \"No\" will then be turned to a howling \"Yea!\" An inward tribunal, which you can no longer cheat with sceptical delusions, will then wake up and pass judgment upon you. But the waking up will be like that of one buried alive in the bowels of the churchyard; there will come remorse like that of the suicide who has committed the fatal act and repents it;'twill be a flash of lightning suddenly breaking in upon the midnight darkness of your life! There will be one look, and, if you can sustain that, I will admit that you have won! FRANCIS (walking up and down restlessly). Cant! Priestly cant! MOSER. Then, for the first time, will the sword of eternity pass through your soul;and then, for the first time, too late, the thought of God will wake up a terrible monitor, whose name is Judge. Mark this, Moor; a thousand lives hang upon your beck; and of those thousand every nine hundred and ninetynine have been rendered miserable by you. You wanted but the Roman empire to be a Nero, the kingdom of Peru to be a Pizarro. Now do you really think that the Almighty will suffer a worm like you to play the tyrant in His world and to reverse all his ordinances? Do you think the nine hundred and ninetynine were created only to be destroyed, only to serve as puppets in your diabolical game? Think it not! He will call you to account for every minute of which you have robbed them, every joy that you have poisoned, every perfection that you have intercepted. Then, if you can answer Himthen, Moor, I will admit that you have won. FRANCIS. No more, not another word! Am I to be at the mercy of thy drivelling fancies? MOSER. Beware! The different destinies of mankind are balanced with terrible nicety. The scale of life which sinks here will rise there, and that which rises here will sink there. What was here temporary affliction will there be eternal triumph; and what here was temporary triumph will there be eternal despair. FRANCIS (rushing savagely upon him.) May the thunder of heaven strike thee dumb, thou lying spirit! I will tear thy venomed tongue out of thy mouth! MOSER. Do you so soon feel the weight of truth? Before I have brought forward one single word of evidence? Let me first proceed to the proofs FRANCIS. Silence! To hell with thee and thy proofs! The soul is annihilated, I tell thee, and I will not be gainsaid! MOSER. That is what the spirits of the bottomless pit are hourly moaning for; but heaven denies the boon. Do you hope to escape from the Avenger's arm even in the solitary waste of nothingness? If you climb up into heaven, he is there! if you make your bed in hell, behold he is there also! If you say to the night, \"Hide me!\" and to the darkness, \"Cover me!\" even the night shall be light about you, and darkness blaze upon your damned soul like a noonday sun. FRANCIS. But I do not wish to be immortallet them be so that like; I have no desire to hinder them. I will force him to annihilate me; I will so provoke his fury that he may utterly destroy me. Tell me which are the greatest sinswhich excite him to the most terrible wrath? MOSER. I know but two. But men do not commit these, nor do men even dream of them. FRANCIS. What are they? MOSER (very significantly). Parricide is the name of the one; fratricide of the other. Why do you turn so suddenly pale? FRANCIS. What, old man? Art thou in league with heaven or with hell? Who told thee that? MOSER. Woe to him that hath them both upon his soul! It were better for that man that he had never been born! But be at peace; you have no longer either a father or a brother! FRANCIS. Ha! what! Do you know no greater sin? Think again! Death, heaven, eternity, damnation, hang upon thy lips. Not one greater? MOSER. No, not one FRANCIS (falling back in a chair). Annihilation! annihilation! MOSER. Rejoice, then, rejoice! Congratulate yourself! With all your abominations you are yet a saint in comparison with a parricide. The curse that falls upon you is a love ditty in comparison with the curse that lies upon him. Retribution FRANCIS (starting up). Away with thee! May the graves open and swallow thee ten thousand fathoms deep, thou bird of ill omen! Who bade thee come here? Away, I tell thee, or I will run thee through and through! MOSER. Can mere \"priestly cant\" excite a philosopher to such a pitch of frenzy? Why not blow it away with a breath of your lips? (Exit.) FRANCIS throws himself about in his chair in terrible agitation. Profound stillness. Enter a SERVANT, hastily SERVANT. The Lady Amelia has fled. The count has suddenly disappeared. Enter DANIEL, in great alarm. DANIEL. My lord, a troop of furious horsemen are galloping down the hill, shouting \"murder! murder!\" The whole village is in alarm. FRANCIS. Quick! let all the bells be tolledsummon everyone to the chapellet all fall on their kneespray for me. All prisoners shall be released and forgivenI will make two and threefold restitution to the poorI willwhy don't you run? Do call in the father confessor, that he may give me absolution for my sins. What! are you not gone yet? (The uproar becomes more audible.) DANIEL. Heaven have mercy upon me, poor sinner! Can I believe you in earnest, sir? You, who always made a jest of religion? How many a Bible and prayerbook have you flung at my head when by chance you caught me at my devotions? FRANCIS. No more of this. To die! think of it! to die! It will be too late! (The voice of SCHWEITZER is heard, loud and furious.) Pray for me, Daniel! Pray, I entreat you! DANIEL. I always told you,\"you hold prayer in such contempt; but take heed! take heed! when the fatal hour comes, when the waters are flowing in upon your soul, you will be ready to give all the treasures of the world for one little Christian prayer.\" Do you see it now? What abuse you used to heap on me! Now you feel it! Is it not so! FRANCIS (embracing him violently). Forgive me! my dear precious jewel of a Daniel, forgive me! I will clothe you from head to footdo but pray. I will make quite a bridegroom of youI willonly do pray I entreat youon my knees, I conjure you. In the devil's name, pray! why don't you pray? (Tumult in the streets, shouts and noises.) SCHWEIT. (in the street). Storm the place! Kill all before you! Force the gates! I see lights! He must be there! FRANCIS (on his knees). Listen to my prayer, O God in heaven! It is the first timeit shall never happen again. Hear me, God in heaven! DANIEL. Mercy on me! What are you saying? What a wicked prayer! Uproar of the PEOPLE, rushing in. PEOPLE. Robbers! murderers! Who makes such a dreadful noise at this midnight hour! SCHWEIT (still in the street). Beat them back, comrades! 'Tis the devil, come to fetch your master. Where is Schwarz with his troop? Surround the castle, Grimm! Scale the walls! GRIMM. Bring the firebrands. Either we must up or he must down. I will throw fire into his halls. FRANCIS (praying). Oh Lord! I have been no common murdererI have been guilty of no petty crimes, gracious Lord DANIEL. Heaven be merciful to us! His very prayers are turned to sins. (Stones and firebrands are hurled up from below; the windows fall in with a crash; the castle takes fire.) FRANCIS. I cannot pray. Here! and here! (striking his breast and his forehead) All is so voidso barren! (Rises from his knees.) No, I will not pray. Heaven shall not have that triumph, nor hell that pastime. DANIEL. O holy Virgin! Help! save! The whole castle is in flames! FRANCIS. There, take this sword! Quick! Run it right through my body, that these fiends may not be in time to make holiday sport of me. (The fire increases.) DANIEL. Heaven forbid? Heaven forbid! I would send no one before his time to heaven, much less to(He runs away). FRANCIS (following him with a ghastly stare, after a pause). To hell, thou wouldst say. Indeed! I scent something of the kind. (In delirium.) Are these their triumphant yells? Do I hear you hissing, ye serpents of the abyss? They force their way upthey besiege the door! Why do I shrink from this biting steel? The door cracksit yieldsthere is no escape! Ha! then do thou have mercy upon me! (He tears away the golden cord from his hat, and strangles himself.) In the acting edition, Francis attempts to throw himself into the flames, but is prevented by the robbers, and taken alive. He is then brought before his brother, in chains, for sentence. SCHWEITZER says, \"I have fulfilled my word, and brought him alive.\" GRIMM. \"We tore him out of the flames and the castle is in ashes.\" After confronting Francis with his father, and a reproachful interview between the brothers, Charles delegates the judgment on Francis to Schweitzer and Kosinsky, but for himself forgives him in these words: \"Thou hast robbed me of heaven's bliss! Be that sin blotted out! Thy doom is sealedperdition is thy lot! But I forgive thee, brother.\" Upon this CHARLES embraces and leaves him; the ROBBERS however, thrust FRANCIS into the dungeon where he had immured his father, laughing in a savage manner. Beyond this the fate of Francis is left undetermined. Schweitzer, instead of killing himself, is made partaker, with Kosinsky, of Moor's estate. Enter SCHWEITZER and his band. SCHWEITZER. Murderous wretch, where art thou? Did you see how they fled? Has he so few friends? Where has the beast crawled to? GRIMM (stumbles over the corpse). Stay! what is this lying in the way? Lights here. SCHWARZ. He has been beforehand with us. Put up your swords. There he lies sprawling like a dead dog. SCHWEITZER. Dead! What! dead? Dead without me? 'Tis a lie, I say. Mark how quickly he will spring upon his feet! (Shakes him). Hollo! up with you? There is a father to be murdered. GRIMM. Spare your pains. He is as dead as a log. SCHWEITZER (steps aside from him). Yes, his game is up! He is dead! dead! Go back and tell my captain he is as dead as a log. He will not see me again. (Blows his brains out.) SCENE II.The scene the same as the last scene of the preceding Act. OLD MOOR seated on a stone; CHARLES VON MOOR opposite; ROBBERS scattered through the wood. CHARLES. He does not come! (Strikes his dagger against a stone till the sparks fly.) OLD MOOR. Let pardon be his punishmentredoubled love my vengeance. CHARLES. No! by my enraged soul that shall not be! I will not permit it. He shall bear that enormous load of crime with him into eternity! what else should I kill him for? OLD MOOR (bursting into tears). Oh my child! CHARLES. What! you weep for him? In sight of this dungeon? OLD MOOR. Mercy! oh mercy! (Wringing his hands violently.) Nownow my son is brought to judgment! CHARLES (starting). Which son? OLD MOOR. Ha! what means that question? CHARLES. Nothing! nothing! OLD MOOR. Art thou come to make a mockery of my grief? CHARLES. Treacherous conscience! Take no heed of my words! OLD MOOR. Yes, I persecuted a son, and a son persecutes me in return. It is the finger of God. Oh my Charles! my Charles! If thou dost hover around me in the realms of peace, forgive me! oh forgive me! CHARLES (hastily). He forgives you! (Checking himself.) If he is worthy to be called your son, he must forgive you! OLD MOOR. Ha! he was too noble a son for me. But I will go to him with my tears, my sleepless nights, my racking dreams. I will embrace his knees, and crycry aloud\"I have sinned against heaven and before thee; I am no longer worthy to be called thy father!\" CHARLES (in deep emotion). Was he very dear to youthat other son? OLD MOOR. Heaven is my witness, how much I loved him. Oh, why did I suffer myself to be beguiled by the arts of a wicked son? I was an envied father among the fathers of the worldmy children full of promise, blooming by my side! Butoh that fatal hour!the demon of envy entered into the heart of my younger sonI listened to the serpentandlost both my children! (Hides his countenance.) CHARLES (removes to a distance from him). Lost forever! OLD MOOR. Oh, deeply do I feel the words of Amelia. The spirit of vengeance spoke from her lips. \"In vain wilt thou stretch forth thy dying hands after a son, in vain fancy thou art grasping the warm hands of thy Charles,he will never more stand by thy bedside.\" (CHARLES stretches out his hand to him with averted face.) Oh, that this were the hand of my Charles! But he is laid far away in the narrow househe is sleeping the iron sleephe hears not the voice of my lamentation. Woe is me! to die in the arms of a stranger? No son leftno son left to close my eyes! CHARLES (in violent emotion). It must be sothe moment has arrived. Leave me(to the ROBBERS.) And yetcan I restore his son to him? Alas! No! I cannot restore him that son! No! I will not think of it. OLD MOOR. Friend! what is that you were muttering? CHARLES. Your sonyes, old man(faltering) your sonislost forever! OLD MOOR. Forever? CHARLES (looking up to heaven in bitter anguish). Oh this oncekeep my soul from sinkingsustain me but this once! OLD MOOR. Forever, did you say. CHARLES. Ask no more! I said forever! OLD MOOR. Stranger, stranger! why didst thou drag me forth from the dungeon to remind me of my sorrows? CHARLES. And what if I were now to snatch his blessing?snatch it like a thief, and steal away with the precious prize? A father's blessing, they say, is never lost. OLD MOOR. And is my Francis too lost? CHARLES (falling on his knees before him). 'Twas I who burst the bars of your dungeon. I crave thy blessing! OLD MOOR (sorrowfully). Oh that thou shouldst destroy the son!thou, the father's deliverer! Behold! Heaven's mercy is untiring, and we pitiful worms let the sun go down upon our wrath. (Lays his hand upon the head of CHARLES.) Be thou happy, even as thou shalt be merciful! CHARLES (rising much affected). Oh!where is my manhood? My sinews are unstrungthe sword drops from my hand. OLD MOOR. How lovely a thing it is when brethren dwell together in unity; as the dewdrops of heaven that fall upon the mountains of Zion. Learn to deserve that happiness, young man, and the angels of heaven will sun themselves in thy glory. Let thy wisdom be the wisdom of gray hairs, but let thy heart be the heart of innocent childhood. CHARLES. Oh, for a foretaste of that happiness! Kiss me, divine old man! OLD MOOR (kissing him). Think it thy father's kiss; and I will think I am kissing my son. Canst thou too weep? CHARLES. I felt as if it were my father's kiss! Woe unto me, were they to bring him now! (The companions of SCHWEITZER enter in a silent and mournful procession, hanging down their heads and hiding their faces.) CHARLES. Good heaven! (Retreats horrorstruck, and seeks to hide himself. They pass by him his face is averted. Profound silence. They halt.) GRIMM (in a subdued tone). My captain! CHARLES does not answer and steps farther back. SCHWARZ. Dear captain! CHARLES retreats still farther. GRIMM. 'Tis not our fault, captain! CHARLES (without looking at them). Who are ye? GRIMM. You do not look at us! Your faithful followers. CHARLES. Woe to ye, if ye are faithful to me! GRIMM. The last farewell from your servant Schweitzer! CHARLES (starting). Then ye have not found him? SCHWARZ. Found him dead. CHARLES (leaping up with joy). Thanks, O Sovereign Ruler of all things! Embrace me, my children!Mercy be henceforward our watchword!Now, were that too surmounted,all would be surmounted. Enter ROBBERS with AMELIA. ROBBERS. Hurrah! hurrah! A prize, a splendid prize! AMELIA (with hair dishevelled). The dead, they cry, have arisen at his voiceMy uncle alivein this woodWhere is he? Charles? Uncle!Ha? (She rushes into the arms, of OLD MOOR.) OLD MOOR. Amelia! my daughter! Amelia! (Holds her tightly grasped in his arms.) CHARLES (starting back). Who brings this image before my eyes. AMELIA (tearing herself away from the old man, rushes upon CHARLES, and embraces him in an ecstasy of delight). I have him, O ye stars! I have him! CHARLES (tearing himself away, to the ROBBERS). Let us be gone, comrades! The arch fiend has betrayed me! AMELIA. My bridegroom, my bridegroom! thou art raving! Ha! 'Tis with delight! Why, then, am I so cold, so unfeeling, in the midst of this tumult of happiness? OLD MOOR (rousing himself). Bridegroom? Daughter! my daughter! Thy bridegroom? Instead of this the stage edition has, \"Come my children! Thy hand, Charlesand thine, Amelia. Oh! I never looked for such happiness on this side the grave. Here let me unite you forever.\" AMELIA. His forever! He forever, ever, mine! Oh! ye heavenly powers! support me in this ecstasy of bliss, lest I sink beneath its weight! CHARLES. Tear her from my neck! Kill her! Kill him! Kill me yourselveseverybody! Let the whole world perish! (About to rush of.) AMELIA. Whither? what? Love! eternity! happiness! neverending joys! and thou wouldst fly? CHARLES. Away, away! most unfortunate of brides! See with thine own eyes; ask, and hear it with thine own ears! Most miserable of fathers! Let me escape hence forever! AMELIA. Support me! for heaven's sake support me! It is growing dark before my eyes! He flies! CHARLES. Too late! In vain! Your curse, father! Ask me no more! I amI haveyour curseyour supposed curse! Who enticed me hither? (Rushing upon the ROBBERS with drawn sword.) Which of you enticed me hither, ye demons of the abyss? Perish, then, Amelia! Die, father! Die, for the third time, through me! These, thy deliverers, are Robbers and Murderers! Thy Charles is their Captain! (OLD MOOR expires.) AMELIA stands silent and transfixed like a statue. The whole band are mute. A fearful pause. CHARLES (rushing against an oak). The souls of those I have strangled in the intoxication of loveof those whom I crushed to atoms in the sacredness of sleepof those whomHa! ha! ha! do you hear the powdermagazine bursting over the heads of women in travail? Do you see the flames creeping round the cradles of sucklings? That is our nuptial torch; those shrieks our wedding music! Oh! he forgetteth none of these things!he knoweth how to connect thelinks in the chain of life. Therefore do love's delights elude my grasp; therefore is love given me for a torment! This is retribution! AMELIA. 'Tis all true! Thou Ruler in heaven! 'Tis all true! What have I done, poor innocent lamb? I have loved this man! CHARLES. This is more than a man can endure. Have I not heard death hissing at me from more thousands of barrels, and never yet moved a hair's breadth out of its way. And shall I now be taught to tremble like a woman? tremble before a woman! No! a woman shall not conquer my manly courage! Blood! blood! 'tis but a fit of womanish feeling. I must glut myself with blood; and this will pass away. (He is about to fly.) AMELIA (sinking into his arms). Murderer! devil! I cannotangel leave thee! CHARLES (thrusting her from him). Away! insidious serpent! Thou wouldst make a mockery of my frenzy; but I will bid defiance to my tyrant destiny. What! art thou weeping? O ye relentless, malicious stars! She pretends to weep, as if any soul could weep for me! (AMELIA falls on his neck.) Ha! what means this? She shuns me notshe spurns me not. Amelia! hast thou then forgotten? Dost thou remember whom thou art embracing, Amelia? AMELIA. My only one, mine, mine forever! CHARLES (recovering himself in an ecstasy of joy). She forgives me, she loves me! Then am I pure as the ether of heaven, for she loves me! With tears I thank thee, allmerciful Father! (He falls on his knees, and bursts into a violent fit of weeping.) The peace of my soul is restored; my sufferings are at an end. Hell is no more! Behold! oh behold! the child of light weeps on the neck of a repentant demon! (Rising and turning to the ROBBERS). Why are ye not weeping also? Weep, weep, ye are all so happy. O Amelia! Amelia! Amelia! (He hangs on her neck, they remain locked in a silent embrace.) A ROBBER (stepping forward enraged). Hold, traitor! This instant come from her arms! or I will speak a word that shall make thy ears tingle, and thy teeth chatter with horror! (He holds his sword between them.) AN AGED ROBBER. Remember the Bohemian forests! Dost thou hear? dost thou tremble? Remember the Bohemian forests, I tell thee! Faithless man! where are thy oaths? Are wounds so soon forgotten? Who staked fortune, honor, life itself for thee? Who stood by thee like walls, and like shields caught the blows which were aimed at thy life? Didst not thou then lift up thy hand and swear an iron oath never to forsake us, even as we forsook not thee? Base, perfidious wretch! and wouldst thou now desert us at the whining of a harlot? A THIRD ROBBER. Shame on thy perjury! The spirit of the immolated Roller, whom thou didst summon from the realms of death to attest thy oath, will blush at thy cowardice, and rise from his grave full armed to chastise thee. THE ROBBERS (all in disorder, tearing open their garments). See here! and here! Dost thou know these scars? Thou art ours! With our heart's blood we have bought thee, and thou art ours bodily, even though the Archangel Michael should seek to wrest thee out of the grasp of the fiery Moloch! Now! March with us! Sacrifice for sacrifice, Amelia for the band! CHARLES (releasing her hand). It is past! I would arise and return to my father; but heaven has said, \"It shall not be!\" (Coldly.) Blind fool that I was! why should I wish it? Is it possible for a great sinner to return? A great sinner never can return. That ought I long since to have known. Be still! I pray thee be still! 'Tis all as it should be. When He sought me I would not; now that I seek him, He will not. What can be more just? Do not roll about thine eyes so wildly. Hehas no need of me. Has He not creatures in abundance? One he can easily spare, and that one am I. Come along, comrades! AMELIA (pulling him back). Stay, I beseech you! One blow! one deadly blow! Again forsaken! Draw thy sword, and have mercy upon me! CHARLES. Mercy has taken refuge among bears. I will not kill thee! AMELIA (embracing his knees). Oh, for heaven's sake! by all that is merciful! I ask no longer for love. I know that our stars fly from each other in opposition. Death is all I ask. Forsaken, forsaken! Take that word in all its dreadful import! Forsaken! I cannot survive it! Thou knowest well that no woman can survive that. All I ask is death. See, my hand trembles! I have not courage to strike the blow. I shrink from the gleaming blade! To thee it is so easy, so very easy; thou art a master in murderdraw thy sword, and make me happy! CHARLES. Wouldst thou alone be happy? Away with thee! I will kill no woman! AMELIA. Ha! destroyer! thou canst only kill the happy; they who are weary of existence thou sparest! (She glides towards the robbers.) Then do ye have mercy on me, disciples of murder! There lurks a bloodthirsty pity in your looks that is consoling to the wretched. Your master is a boaster and a coward. CHARLES. Woman, what dost thou say? (The ROBBERS turn away.) AMELIA. No friend? No; not even among these a friend? (She rises.) Well, then, let Dido teach me how to die! (She is going; a ROBBER takes aim at her.) CHARLES. Hold! dare it! Moor's Amelia shall die by no other hand than Moor's. (He strikes her dead.) THE ROBBERS. Captain! captain! what hast thou done? Art thou raving? CHARLES (with his eyes fixed on the body). One more pang and all will be over. She is immolated! Now, look on! have you any farther demand? Ye staked a life for me, a life which has ceased to be your owna life full of infamy and shame! I have sacrificed an angel for you. Now! look upon her! Are you content? GRIMM. You have repaid your debt with usury. You have done all that man could do for his honor, and more. Now let's away. CHARLES. What say you? Is not the life of a saint for the life of a felon more than an equal exchange? Oh! I say unto you if every one of you were tomount the scaffold, and to have his flesh torn from his bones piecemeal with redhot pincers, through eleven long summer days of torture, yet would it not counterbalance these tears! (With a bitter laugh.) The scars! the Bohemian forests! Yes, yes! they must be repaid, of course! SCHWARZ. Compose yourself, captain! Come along with us! this is no sight for you. Lead us elsewhere! CHARLES. Stay! one word more before we proceed elsewhere. Mark me, ye malicious executioners of my barbarous nod! from this moment I cease to be your captain. The acting edition reads,\"Banditti! we are quits. This bleeding corpse cancels my bond to you forever. From your own I set you free.\" ROBBERS. \"We are again your slaves till death!\" CHARLES. \"No, no, no! We have done with each other. My genius whispers me, 'Go no further, Moor. Here is the goal of humanity and thine!' Take back this bloody plume (throws it at their feet). Let him who seeks to be your captain take it up.\" With shame and horror I here lay down the bloody staff, under which you thought yourselves licensed to perpetrate your crimes and to defile the fair light of heaven with deeds of darkness. Depart to the right and to the left. We shall never more have aught in common. THE ROBBERS. Ha! coward! where are thy lofty schemes? were they but soapbubbles, which disperse at the breath of a woman? In lieu of this soliloquy and what follows, to the end, the acting edition has: R. MOOR. Dare not to scrutinize the acts of Moor. That is my last command. Now, draw nearform a circle around me, and receive the last words of your dying captain. (He surveys them attentively for some time.) You have been devotedly faithful to me, faithful beyond example. Had virtue bound you together as firmly as vice, you would have been heroes, and your names recorded by mankind with admiration. Go and offer your services to the state. Dedicate your talents to the cause of a monarch who is waging war in vindication of the rights of man. With this blessing I disband you. Schweitzer and Kosinsky, do you stay. (The others disperse slowly, with signs of emotion.) SCENE VIII. R. MOOR, SCRWETTZER, and KOSINSKY. R. MOOR. Give me thy right hand, KosinskySchweitzer thy left. (He takes their hands, and stands between, them; to KOSINSKY,) Young man, thou art still pureamongst the guilty thou alone art guiltless! (To SCHWEITZER.) Deeply have I imbrued thy hand in blood. 'Tis I who have done this. With this cordial grasp I take back mine own. Schweitzer! thou art purified! (He raises their hands fervently to heaven.) Father in heaven! here I restore them to thee. They will be more devoted to thy service than those who never fell. Of that I feel assured. (SCHWEITZER and KOSINSKY fall on his neck with fervor.) Not nownot now, dear comrades. Spare my feelings in this trying hour. An earldom has this day fallen to my lota rich domain on which no malediction rests. Share it between you, my children; become good citizens; and if for ten human beings that I have destroyed you make but one happy, my soul may yet be saved. Gono farewell! In another world we may meet againor perhaps no more. Away! away! ere my fortitude desert me. Exeunt both, with downcast countenances. SCENE IX. And I, too, am a good citizen. Do I not fulfil the extremity of the law? Do I not honor the law? Do I not uphold and defend it? I remember speaking to a poor officer on my way hither, who was toiling as a daylaborer, and has eleven living children. A thousand ducats have been offered to whoever shall deliver up the great robber alive. That man shall be served. Exit. CHARLES. Oh! fool that I was, to fancy that I could amend the world by misdeeds and maintain law by lawlessness! I called it vengeance and equity. I presumed, O Providence! upon whetting out the notches of thy sword and repairing thy partialities. But, oh, vain trifling! here I stand on the brink of a fearful life, and learn, with wailing and gnashing of teeth, that two men like myself could ruin the whole edifice of the moral world. Pardonpardon the boy who thought to forestall Thee; to Thee alone belongeth vengeance; Thou needest not the hand of man! But it is not in my power to recall the past; that which is ruined remains ruined; what I have thrown down will never more rise up again. Yet one thing is left me whereby I may atone to the offended majesty of the law and restore the order which I have violated. A victim is requireda victim to declare before all mankind how inviolable that majesty isthat victim shall be myself. I will be the deathoffering! ROBBERS. Take his sword from himhe will kill himself. CHARLES. Fools that ye are! doomed to eternal blindness! Think ye that one mortal sin will expiate other mortal sins? Do you suppose that the harmony of the world would be promoted by such an impious discord? (Throwing his arms at their feet.) He shall have me alive. I go to deliver myself into the hands of justice. ROBBERS. Put him in chains! he has lost his senses! CHARLES. Not that I have any doubt but that justice would find me speedily enough if the powers above so ordained it. But she might surprise me in sleep, or overtake me in flight, or seize me with violence and the sword, and then I should have lost the only merit left me, that of making my death a freewill atonement. Why should I, like a thief, any longer conceal a life, which in the counsels of the heavenly ministry has long been forfeited? ROBBERS. Let him go. He is infected with the greatmanmania; he means to offer up his life for empty admiration. CHARLES. I might, 'tis true, be admired for it. (After a moment's reflection.) I remember, on my way hither, talking to a poor creature, a daylaborer, with eleven living children. A reward has been offered of a thousand louisd'ors to any one who shall deliver up the great robber alive. That man shall be served. Exit. Illustration: COUNT OF NARBONNE THEODORESHE HASTENED TO THE CAVE AND VANISHED FROM MY SIGHT ACT I SCENE I PAINTED BY COOK PUBLISH'D BY LONGMAN  CO. ENGRAV'D BY ENGLEHEART 1807 THE COUNT OF NARBONNE; A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS; By ROBERT JEPHSON, Esq. AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY Mrs. INCHBALD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW. WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER LONDON. REMARKS. This tragedy was brought upon the stage in 1780; it was extremely admired, and exceedingly attractive. Neither \"The Winter's Tale\", nor \"Henry VIII\" by Shakspeare, were at that time performed at either of the theatres; and the town had no immediate comparison to draw between the conjugal incidents in \"The Count of Narbonne,\" and those which occur in these two very superior dramas. The Cardinal Wolsey of Shakspeare, is, by Jephson, changed into a holy and virtuous priest; but his importance is, perhaps, somewhat diminished by a discovery, which was intended to heighten the interest of his character; but which is introduced in too sudden, and romantic a manner, to produce the desired consequence upon a welljudging auditor. One of the greatest faults, by which a dramatist can disappoint and fret his auditor, is also to be met with in this play.Infinite discourse is exchanged, numberless plans formed, and variety of passions agitated, concerning a person, who is never brought upon the stageSuch is the personal nonentity of Isabel, in this tragedy, and yet the fable could not proceed without her.Alphonso, so much talked of, yet never seen, is an allowable absentee, having departed to another world; and yet, whether such invisible personages be described as alive, or dead, that play is the most interesting, which makes mention of no one character, but those which are introduced to the sight of the audience. The lover of romances, whose happy memory, unclouded by more weighty recollections, has retained a wonderful story, by the late Lord Orford, called, \"The Castle of Otranto,\" will here, it is said, find a resemblance of plot and incidents, the acknowledged effect of close imitation. Lord Orford, (at that time Mr. Horace Walpole,) attended some rehearsals of this tragedy, upon the very account, that himself was the founder of the fabric. The author was of no mean reputation in the literary world, for he had already produced several successful dramas. \"The Count of Narbonne\" proved to be his last, and his best composition.Terror is here ably excited by descriptions of the preternaturalHorror, by the portraiture of guilt; and compassion, by the view of suffering innocence.These are three passions, which, divided, might each constitute a tragedy; and all these powerful engines of the mind and heart, are here, most happily combined to produce that end,and each forms a lesson of morality. DRAMATIS PERSON. AUSTIN Mr. Harley. THEODORE Mr. Bloomfield. FABIAN Mr. Thompson. OFFICERS  Mr. Powell.  Mr. Evatt. THE COUNT Mr. Farren. ADELAIDE Mrs. Merry. JAQUELINE Mrs. Platt. COUNTESS Mrs. Pope. OFFICERS, ATTENDANTS, c. SCENE.Narbonne Castle, and the Monastery of St. Nicholas, adjoining to the Castle. THE COUNT OF NARBONNE.      ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. A Hall. Enter the COUNT, speaking to an OFFICER; FABIAN following. Count. Not to be found! is this your faithful service? How could she pass unseen? By hell, 'tis false! Thou hast betray'd me. Offi. Noble sir! my duty Count. Your fraud, your negligenceaway, reply not. Find her within this hour; else, by my life, The gates of Narbonne shall be clos'd against thee; Then make the world thy country. Exit OFFICER. Fabian, stay! Misfortunes fall so thick upon my head, They will not give me time to thinkto breathe. Fab. Heaven knows, I wish your peace; but am to learn, What grief more fresh than my young lord's decease, A sorrow but of three days past, can move you. Count. O bitter memory! gone, gone for ever! The pillar of my house, my only son! Fab. 'Twas terrible indeed. Count. Ay, was it not? And then the manner of it! think on that! Disease, that robb'd me of two infant sons, Approaching slow, bade me prepare to lose them; I saw my lilies drooping; and, accustom'd To see them dying, bore to see them dead: But, Oh my Edmund!Thou remember'st, Fabian, How blithe he went to seek the forest's sport! Fab. 'Would I could not remember! Count. That cursed barb, (My fatal gift) that dash'd him down the cliff, Seem'd proud of his gay burden.Breathless, mangled, They bore him back to me. Fond man! I hoped This day, this happy match with Isabel Had made our line perpetual; and, this day, The unfruitful grave receives him. Yes, 'tis fate! That dreadful denunciation 'gainst my house, No prudence can avert, nor prayers can soften. Fab. Think not on that; some visionary's dream. What house, what family could e'er know peace, If such enthusiast's ravings were believ'd, And phrensy deem'd an insight of the future? But may I dare to ask, is it of moment To stir your anger thus, that Isabel Has left the castle? Count. Of the deepest moment: My best hope hangs on her; some future time, I may instruct thee why.These cares unhinge me: Just now, a herald from her angry father Left me this dire electionto resign My titles, and this ample signory, (Worthy a monarch's envy) or to meet him, And try my right by arms. But pr'ythee tell, (Nor let a fear to wound thy master's pride Restrain thy licens'd speech) hast thou e'er heard My father Raymond(cast not down thine eye) By any indirect or bloody means, Procur'd that instrument, Alphonso's will, That made him heir to Narbonne? Fab. My best lord, At all times would I fain withhold from you, Intelligence unwelcome, but most now. At seasons such as this, a friendly tongue Should utter words like balm; but what you ask Count. I ask, to be inform'd of. Hast thou known me From childhood, up to man, and canst thou fear I am so weak of soul, like a thin reed, To bend and stagger at such puny blast? No; when the tempest rages round my head, I give my branches wider to the air, And strike my root more deeply.To thy tale: Away with palliatives and compliments; Speak plainly. Fab. Plainly, then, my lord, I have heard What, for the little breath, I have to draw, I would not, to the black extent of rumour, Give credit to.But you command me speak Count. Thy pauses torture me.Can I hear worse Than this black scroll contains? this challenge here, From Isabella's father, haughty Godfrey? In broad, and unambiguous words, he tells me, My father was a murderer, and forg'd Alphonso's testament. Fab. From Palestine, That tale crept hither; where, foul slander says, The good Alphonso, not, as we believe, Died of a fever, but a venom'd draught, Your father, his companion of the cross, Did with his own hand mingle; his hand too, Assisted by some cunning practisers, Model'd that deed, which, barring Godfrey's right, And other claims from kindred, nam'd Count Raymond Lord of these fair possessions. Count. Ha! I have it; 'Tis Godfrey's calumny; he has coin'd this lie; And his late visit to the Holy Land, No doubt, has furnish'd likelihood of proof, To give his fiction colour. Fab. Sure, 'tis so. Count. He, too, has forg'd this idle prophecy, (To shake me with false terrors) this prediction, Which, but to think of, us'd to freeze my veins; \"That no descendant from my father's loins, Should live to see a grandson; nor Heaven's wrath Cease to afflict us, till Alphonso's heir Succeeded to his just inheritance.\" Hence superstition mines my tottering state, Loosens my vassals' faith, and turns their tears, Which else would fall for my calamities, To gloomy pause, and gaping reverence: While all my woes, to their perverted sense, Seem but the marvellous accomplishment Of revelation, out of nature's course. Fab. Reason must so interpret. Good my lord, What answer was return'd to Godfrey's challenge? Count. Defiance. Fab. Heaven defend you! Count. Heaven defend me! I hope it will, and this right arm to boot. But, hark! I hear a noise.Perhaps my people Have found the fugitive.Haste! bid them enter. Exit FABIAN. She eyed me with abhorrence; at the sound Of loveof marriage, fled indignant from me. Yet must I win her: should she meet my wish, Godfrey would prop the right he strives to shake, Securing thus to his fair daughter's issue, All that now hangs on the sword's doubtful point. Enter OFFICER. Now, what tidings? Where is the lady? Offi. We have search'd in vain The castle round; left not an aisle, or vault, Unvisited. Count. Damnation! Offi. Near the cloister, From whence, by the flat door's descent, a passage Beneath the ground leads onward to the convent, We heard the echo of a falling weight, And sought it by the sound. Count. Well, and what then? Offi. The unsettled dust left us no room to doubt The door had just been rais'd. Count. She has escap'd, And by confed'racy: to force that bar, Without more aid, had baffled twice her strength. Go on. Offi. We enter'd; with resistance bold. THEODORE brought in by FABIAN and ATTENDANTS. This peasant push'd us backward from the spot. My arm was rais'd to smite him, but respect For something in his aspect, check'd the blow. He, chiding, parleying by turns, gave time For whosoever had descended there (The lady doubtless) to elude our search: The rest, himself will tell. Count. To THEODORE. Ha! what art thou? Theodore. It seems, thy prisoner: disengage me first From their rude grasp, and I may tell thee more. Count. Unhand him. I should know thee; I have seen Features like thine. Answer me, wert thou found As these men say? Theod. I was. Count. And what thy purpose? Theod. Chance brought me there. Count. And did chance lead thee, too, To aid a fugitive? Theod. They saw not that. Count. They saw it not! How! could her delicate hands, Weak, soft, and yielding to the gentlest touch, Sustain that pond'rous mass? No; those tough arms, Thy force, assisted; else, thou young dissembler Theod. She had been seiz'd, and by compulsion brought Where I stand now. Count. Thou dost avow it then, Boast it even to my face, audacious stripling! Such insolence, and these coarse rustic weeds Are contradictions. Answer me, who art thou? Theod. Less than I should be; more than what I seem. Count. Hence with this saucy ambiguity. What is thy name, thy country? That mean habit, Which should teach humbleness, speaks thy condition. Theod. My name is Theodore, my country, France, My habit little suited to my mind, Less to my birth, yet fit for my condition. Count. O, thou art then, some young adventurer, Some roving knight, a hero in disguise, Who, scorning forms of vulgar ceremony, No leave obtain'd, waiting no invitation, Enters our castles, wanders o'er our halls, To succour dames distress'd, or pilfer gold. Theod. There is a source of reverence for thee here, Forbids me, though provok'd, retort thy taunts. Count. If I endure this more, I shall grow vile Even to my hinds Theod. Hold, let me stop thy wrath. I see thy quivering lip, thy fiery eye, Forerun a storm of passion. To prevent thee From terms too harsh, perhaps, for thee to offer, Or me to hear (poor as I seem) with honour, I will cut short thy interrogatories, And on this theme give thee the full extent Of all I know, or thou canst wish to learn. Count. Do it. Theod. Without a view to thwart thy purpose. (Be what it might), was I within thy walls. In a dim passage of the castleaisles, Musing alone, I heard a hasty tread, And breath drawn short, like one in fear of peril. A lady enter'd, fair she seem'd, and young, Guiding her timorous footsteps by a lamp; \"The lord, the tyrant of this place, (she cried) For a detested purpose, follows me; Aid me, good youth:\" then pointing to the ground, \"That door,\" she added, \"leads to sanctuary.\" I seiz'd an iron hold, and, while I tugg'd To heave the unwilling weight, I learn'd her title. Count. The Lady Isabel? Theod. The same. A gleam, Shot from their torches, who pursued her track, Prevented more; she hasten'd to the cave, And vanish'd from my sight. Count. And did no awe, No fear of him, she call'd this castle's lord, Its tyrant, chill thee? Theod. Awe, nor fear, I know not, And trust, shall never; for I know not guilt. Count. Then thou, it seems, art master here, not I; Thou canst control my projects, blast my schemes, And turn to empty air my power in Narbonne. Nay, should my daughter chuse to fly my castle, Against my bidding, guards and bolts were vain: This frizeclad champion, gallant Theodore, Would lend his ready arm, and mock my caution. Theod. Thy daughter! O, I were, indeed, too bless'd, Could I but live to render her a service! Count. My daughter, would, I hope, disdain thy service. Theod. Wherefore am I to blame? What I have done, Were it to do again, again I'd do it. And may this arm drop palsied by my side, When its cold sinews shrink to aid affliction! Count. Indeed! Theod. Indeed. Frown on.Ask thy own heart, Did innocence and beauty bend before thee, Hunted, and trembling, wouldst thou tamely pause, Scanning pale counsel from deliberate fear, And weigh each possibility of danger? No; the instinctive nobleness of blood Would start beyond the reach of such cold scruples, And instant gratify its generous ardour. Count. Aside. I must know more of this. His phrase, his look, His steady countenance, raise something here, Bids me beware of him.I have no time To bandy idle words, with slaves like thee. I doubt not thy intent was mischievous; Booty perhaps, or blood. Till more inquiry Clear, or condemn him, hold him in your guard. Give none admittanceTake him from my sight. Theod. Secure in her integrity, my soul Casts back thy mean suspicions, and forgives thee. THEODORE is led out by ATTENDANTS. Count. Away with him!What means this heaviness? My heart, that, like a well trimm'd, gallant bark, Was wont to mount the waves, and dash them off In ineffectual foam, now seems to crack, And let in each assailing tide to sink me. I must not yield to this dull lethargy. Good Fabian, hie thee to Saint Nicholas'; Bid holy Austin straight repair to me. Exit FABIAN. His sanctity, and reverend character, His pious eloquence, made engines for me, Might save a world of anguish to my soul, And smooth my unwelcome purpose to Hortensia. But how prevail with him?Ambition?No; The world is dead in him, and gold is trash To one, who neither needs, nor values it. Interest and love shall wear the guise of conscience; I must pretend nice scruples, which I feel not, And make him mediate for me with the church. Yet he reveres the countess; and, I fear, Will spy more sin, in doubts that wound her quiet, Than in my stifling them. But see, she comes, With downcast eye, and sad, dejected mien. I will not yet disclose it. Enter the COUNTESS. Where's my child, My all of comfort, now, my Adelaide? Countess. Dear as she is, I would not have her all; For I should then be nothing. Time has been, When, after three long days of absence from you, You would have question'd me a thousand times, And bid me tell each trifle of myself; Then, satisfied at last, that all were well, At last, unwilling, turn to meaner cares. Count. This is the nature, still of womankind; If fondness be their mood, we must cast off All gravecomplexion'd thought, and turn our souls Quite from their tenour, to wild levity; Vary with all their humours, take their hues, As unsubstantial Iris from the sun: Our bosoms are their passive instruments; Vibrate their strain, or all our notes are discord. Countess. Oh, why this new unkindness? From thy lips Never till now fell such ungentle words, Nor ever less was I prepar'd to meet them. Count. Never till now was I so urg'd, beset, Hemm'd round with perils. Countess. Ay, but not by me. Count. By thee, and all the world. But yesterday, With uncontrollable and absolute sway I rul'd this province, was the unquestion'd lord Of this strong castle, and its wide domains, Stretch'd beyond sight around me; and but now, The axe, perhaps, is sharp'ning, may hew down My perish'd trunk, and give the soil I sprung from, To cherish my proud kinsman Godfrey's roots. Countess. Heaven guard thy life! His dreadful summons reach'd me. This urg'd me hither. On my knees I beg, (And I have mighty reasons for my prayer) O do not meet him on this argument: By gentler means strive to divert his claim; Fly this detested place, this house of horror, And leave its gloomy grandeur to your kinsman. Count. Rise, fearful woman! What! renounce my birthright? Go forth, like a poor, friendless, banish'd man, To gnaw my heart in cold obscurity! Thou weak adviser! Should I take thy counsel, Thy tongue would first upbraidthy spirit scorn me. Countess. No, on my soul!Is Narbonne all the world? My country is where thou art; place is little: The sun will shine, the earth produce its fruits, Cheerful, and plenteously, where'er we wander. In humbler walks, bless'd with my child and thee. I'd think it Eden in some lonely vale, Nor heave one sigh for these proud battlements. Count. Such flowery softness suits not matron lips. But thou hast mighty reasons for thy prayer: They should be mighty reasons, to persuade Their rightful lord to leave his large possessions, A soldier challeng'd, to decline the combat. Countess. And are not prodigies, then, mighty reasons? The owl mistakes his season, in broad day Screaming his hideous omens; spectres glide, Gibbering and pointing as we pass along; While the deep earth's unorganized caves Send forth wild sounds, and clamours, terrible; These towers shake round us, though the untroubled air Stagnates to lethargy:our children perish, And new disasters blacken every hour. Blood shed unrighteously, blood unappeas'd, (Though we are guiltless,) cries, I fear, for vengeance. Count. Blood shed unrighteously! have I shed blood? No; nature's common frailties set aside, I'll meet my audit boldly. Countess. Mighty Lord! O! not on us, with justice too severe, Visit the sin, not ours. Count. What can this mean? Something thou wouldst reveal, that's terrible. Countess. Too long, alas! it has weigh'd upon my heart; A thousand times I have thought to tell thee all; But my tongue falter'd, and refus'd to wound thee. Count. Distract me not, but speak. Countess. I must. Your father Was wise, brave, politic; but mad ambition, (Heaven pardon him!) it prompts to desperate deeds. Count. I scarce can breathe. Pr'ythee be quick, and ease me. Countess. Your absence on the Italian embassy Left him, you know, alone to my fond care. Long had some hidden grief, like a slow fire, Wasted his vitals;on the bed of death, One object seem'd to harrow up his soul, The picture of Alphonso in the chamber: On that, his eye was set.Methinks I see him, His ashy hue, his grisled, bristling hair, His palms spread wide. For, ever would he cry, \"That awful formhow terrible he frowns! See, how he bares his livid, leprous breast, And points the deadly chalice!\" Count. Ha! even so! Countess. Sometimes he'd seize my hands, and grasp them close, And strain them to his hollow, burning eyes; Then falter out, \"I am, I am a villain! Mild angel, pray for me;stir not, my child; It comes again;oh, do not leave my side.\" At last, quite spent with mortal agonies, His soul went forthand Heaven have mercy on him! Count. Enough! Thy tale has almost iced my blood. Let me not think. Hortensia, on thy duty, Suffer no breath like this to pass thy lips: I will not taint my noble father's honour, By vile suspicions, suck'd from nature's dregs, And the loose, ravings of distemper'd fancy. Countess. Yet, Oh, decline this challenge! Count. That, hereafter. Mean time, prepare my daughter to receive A husband of my choice. Should Godfrey come, (Strife might be so prevented) bid her try Her beauty's power. Stand thou but neuter, Fate! Courage, and art, shall arm me from mankind. Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. A Chamber. Enter FABIAN and JAQUELINE. Fab. No, no, it cannot be. My lord's commands Were absolute, that none should visit him. Jaq. What need he know it? Fab. But perchance he should? The study of my life has been his pleasure; Nor will I risk his favour, to indulge Such unavailing curiosity. Jaq. Call it not so; I have kind counsel for him; Which, if he follow it, may serve to speed The hour of his deliverance, and appease The unjustlyanger'd count. Fab. Pray be content; I dare not do it. Have this castle's walls Hous'd thee nine years, and, art thou yet to learn The temper of the count? Serv'd and obey'd, There lives not one more gracious, liberal; Offend him, and his rage is terrible; I'd rather play with serpents. But, fair Jaqueline, Setting aside the comeliness and grace Of this young rustic, which, I own, are rare, And baits to catch all women, pr'ythee tell, Why are you thus solicitous to see him? Jaq. In me, 'twere base to be indifferent: He was my life's preserver, nay, preserv'd A life more precious: yes, my dear young mistress! But for his aid, the eternal sleep of death Had clos'd the sweetest eyes that ever beam'd. Aloof, and frighted, stood her coward train, And saw a furious band of desperate slaves, Inur'd to blood and rapine, bear her off. Fab. What! when the gang of outlaw'd Thiery Rush'd on her chariot, near the wood of Zart, Was he the unknown youth, who succour'd her All good betide him for it. Jaq. Yes, 'twas he. From one tame wretch he snatch'd a halfdrawn sword, And dealt swift vengeance on the ruffian crew. Two, at his feet stretch'd dead, the rest, amaz'd, Fled, muttering curses, while he bore her back, Unhurt, but by her fears. Fab. He should be worshipp'd, Have statues rais'd to him; for, by my life, I think, there does not breathe another like her. It makes me young, to see her lovely eyes: Such charity! such sweet benevolence! So fair, and yet so humble! prais'd for ever, Nay, wonder'd at, for nature's rarest gifts, Yet lowlier than the lowest. Jaq. Is it strange, Fair Adelaide and I, thus bound to him, Are anxious for his safety? What offence (And sure, 'twas unintended) could provoke The rigorous count thus to imprison him? Fab. My lord was ever proud and choleric; The youth, perhaps unus'd to menaces, Brook'd them but ill, and darted frown for frown: This stirr'd the count to fury. But fear nothing; All will be well; I'll wait the meetest season, And be his advocate. Jaq. Mean time, repair to him; Bid him be patient; let him want no comfort, Kind care can minister. My lady comes. May I assure her of your favour to him? Fab. Assure her, that the man, who sav'd her life, Is dear to Fabian as his vital blood. Exit. Enter ADELAIDE. Adel. I sent thee to his prison. Quickly tell me, What says he, does he know my sorrow for him? Does he confound me with the unfeeling crew, Who act my father's bidding? Can his love Pity my grief, and bear this wrong with patience? Jaq. I strove in vain to enter. Fabian holds him, By the count's charge, in strictest custody; And, fearful to awake his master's wrath, Though much unwilling, bars me from his presence. Adel. Unkind old man! I would myself entreat him, But fear my earnest look, these starting tears, Might to the experience of his prying age Reveal a secret, which, in vain, I strive To hide from my own breast. Jaq. Alas, dear lady, Did not your tongue reveal it, your chang'd mien, Once lighter than the airy woodnymph's shade, Now turn'd to pensive thought and melancholy, Involuntary sighs,your cheek, unlike Its wonted bloom, as is the redvein'd rose, To the dim sweetness of the violet These had too soon betray'd you. But take heed; The colour of our fate too oft is ting'd, Mournful, or bright, but from our first affections. Adel. Foul disproportion draws down shame on love, But where's the crime in fair equality? Mean birth presumes a mind uncultivate, Left to the coarseness of its native soil, To grow like weeds, and die, like them, neglected; But he was born my equal; lineag'd high, And titled as our great ones. Jaq. How easy is our faith to what we wish! His story may be feign'd. Adel. I'll not mistrust him. Since the bless'd hour, that brought him first to save me, How often have I listen'd to the tale! Gallant, generous youth! Thy sport, misfortune, from his infant years! Wilt thou pursue him still? Jaq. Indeed, 'tis hard. Adel. But, oh, the pang, that these ungrateful walls Should be his prison! Here, if I were aught, His presence should have made it festival; These gates, untouch'd, had leap'd to give him entrance, And songs of joy made glad the way before him. Instead of this, think what has been his welcome! Dragg'd by rude hands before a furious judge, Insulted, menac'd, like the vilest slave, And doom'd, unheard, to ignominious bondage. Jaq. Your father knew not of his service to you? Adel. No, his indignant soul disdain'd to tell it. Great spirits, conscious of their inborn worth, Scorn by demand, to force the praise they merit; They feel a flame beyond their brightest deeds, And leave the weak to note them, and to wonder. Jaq. Suppress these strong emotions. The count's eye Is quick to find offence. Should he suspect This unpermitted passion, 'twould draw down More speedy vengeance on the helpless youth, Turning your fatal fondness to his ruin. Adel. Indeed, I want thy counsel. Yet, oh, leave me! Find, if my gold, my gems, can ransom him. Had I the world, it should be his as freely. Jaq. Trust to my care. The countess comes to seek you; Her eye is this way bent. Conceal this grief; All may be lost, if you betray such weakness. Exit. Adel. O love! thy sway makes me unnatural. The tears, which should bedew the grave, yet green, Of a dear brother, turning from their source, Forget his death, and fall for Theodore. Enter the COUNTESS. Countess. Come near, my love! When thou art from my side, Methinks I wander like some gloomy ghost, Who, doom'd to tread alone a dreary round, Remembers the lost things, that made life precious, Yet sees no end of cheerless solitude. Adel. We have known too much of sorrow; yet, 'twere wise To turn our thoughts from what mischance has ravish'd, And rest on what it leaves. My father's love Countess. Was mine, but is no more. 'Tis past, 'tis gone. That ray, at last, I hoped would never set, My guide, my light, through, fortune's blackest shades: It was my dear reserve, my secret treasure; I stor'd it up, as misers hoard their gold, Sure counterpoise for life's severest ills: Vain was my hope; for love's soft sympathy, He pays me back harsh words, unkind, reproof, And looks that stab with coldness. Adel. Oh, most cruel! And, were he not my father, I could rail; Call him unworthy of thy wondrous virtues; Blind, and unthankful, for the greatest blessing Heaven's everbounteous hand could shower upon him. Countess. No, Adelaide; we must subdue such thoughts: Obedience is thy duty, patience mine. Just now, with stern and peremptory briefness, He bade me seek my daughter, and dispose her To wed, by his direction. Adel. The saints forbid! To wed by his direction! Wed with whom? Countess. I know not whom. He counsels with himself. Adel. I hope he cannot mean it. Countess. 'Twas his order. Adel. O madam! on my knees Countess. What would my child? Why are thy hands thus rais'd? Why stream thine eyes? Why flutters thus thy bosom? Adelaide, Speak to me! tell me, wherefore art thou thus? Adel. Surprise and griefI cannot, cannot speak. Countess. If 'tis a pain to speak, I would not urge thee. But can my Adelaide fear aught from me? Am I so harsh? Adel. Oh no! the kindest, best! But, would you save me from the stroke of death, If you would not behold your daughter, stretch'd, A poor pale corse, and breathless at your feet, Oh, step between me and this cruel mandate! Countess. But this is strange!I hear your father's step: He must not see you thus: retire this moment. I'll come to you anon. Adel. Yet, ere I go, O make the interest of my heart your own; Nor, like a senseless, undiscerning thing, Incapable of choice, nor worth the question, Suffer this hasty transfer of your child: Plead for me strongly, kneel, pray, weep for me; And angels lend your tongue the power to move him! Exit. Countess. What can this mean, this ecstacy of passion! Can such reluctance, such emotions, spring From the mere nicety of maiden fear? The source is in her heart; I dread to trace it, Must then a parent's mild authority Be turn'd a cruel engine, to inflict Wounds on the gentle bosom of my child? And am I doom'd to register each day But by some new distraction?Edmund! Edmund! In apprehending worse even than thy loss, My sense, confused, rests on no single grief; For that were ease to this eternal pulse, Which, throbbing here, says, blacker fates must follow; Enter COUNT and AUSTIN, meeting. Count. Welcome, thrice welcome! By our holy mother, My house seems hallow'd, when thou enter'st it. Tranquillity and peace dwell ever round thee; That robe of innocent white is thy soul's emblem, Made visible in unstain'd purity. Once more thy hand. Aust. My daily task has been, So to subdue the frailties we inherit, That my fair estimation might go forth, Nothing for pride, but to an end more righteous: For, not the solemn trappings of our state, Tiaras, mitres, nor the pontiff's robe, Can give such grave authority to priesthood, As one good deed of grace and charity. Count. We deem none worthier. But to thy errand! Aust. I come commission'd from fair Isabel. Count. To me, or to the Countess? Aust. Thus, to both. For your fair courtesy, and entertainment, She rests your thankful debtor. You, dear lady, And her sweet friend, the gentle Adelaide, Have such a holy place in all her thoughts, That 'twere irreverence to waste her sense In wordy compliment. Countess. Alas! where is she? Till now I scarce had power to think of her; But 'tis the mournful privilege of grief, To stand excus'd from kind observances, Which else, neglected, might be deem'd offence. Aust. She dwells in sanctuary at Saint Nicholas': Why she took refuge there Count. Retire, Hortensia. I would have private conference with Austin, No second ear must witness. Countess. May I not, By this good man, solict her return? Count. Another time; it suits not now.Retire. Exit COUNTESS. You come commission'd from fair Isabel? Aust. I come commission'd from a greater power, The Judge of thee, and Isabel, and all. The offer of your hand in marriage to her, With your propos'd divorce from that good lady, That honour'd, injur'd lady, you sent hence, She has disclos'd to me. Count. Which you approve not: So speaks the frowning prelude of your brow. Aust. Approve not! Did I not protest against it, With the bold fervour of enkindled zeal, I were the pander of a love, like incest; Betrayer of my trust, my function's shame, And thy eternal soul's worst enemy. Count. Yet let not zeal, good man, devour thy reason. Hear first, and then determine. Well you know, My hope of heirs has perish'd with my son; Since now full seventeen years, the unfruitful curse Has fallen upon Hortensia. Are these signs, (Tremendous signs, that startle Nature's order!) Graves casting up their sleepers, earth convuls'd, Meteors that glare my children's timeless deaths, Obscure to thee alone?I have found the cause. There is no crime our holy church abhors, Not one high Heaven more strongly interdicts, Than that commixture, by the marriage rite, Of blood too near, as mine is to Hortensia. Aust. Too near of blood! oh, specious mockery! Where have these doubts been buried twenty years? Why wake they now? And am I closetted To sanction them? Take back your hasty words, That call'd me wise or virtuous; while you offer Such shallow fictions to insult my sense, And strive to win me to a villain's office. Count. The virtue of our churchmen, like our wives, Should be obedient meekness. Proud resistance, Bandying high looks, a port erect and bold, Are from the canon of your order, priest. Learn this, for here will I be teacher, Austin; Our temporal blood must not be stirr'd thus rudely: A front that taunts, a scanning, scornful brow, Are silent menaces, and blows unstruck. Aust. Not so, my lord; mine is no priestly pride: When I put off the habit of the world, I had lost all that made it dear to me, And shook off, to my best, its heat and passions. But can I hold in horror this ill deed, And dress my brow in false approving smiles? No: could I carry lightning in my eye, Or roll a voice like thunder in your ears, So should I suit my utterance to my thoughts, And act as fits my sacred ministry. Count. O father! did you know the conflict here; How love and conscience are at war within me; Most sure, you would not treat my grief thus harshly. I call the saints to witness, were I master, To wive the perfect model of my wish, For virtue, and all female loveliness, I would not rove to an ideal form, But beg of Heaven another like Hortensia. Yet we must part. Aust. And think you to excuse A meditated wrong to excellence, By giving it acknowledgment and praise? Rather pretend insensibility; Feign that thou dost not see like other men; So may abhorrence be exchang'd for wonder, Or men from cursing fall to pity thee. Count. You strive in vain; no power on earth can shake me. I grant my present purpose seems severe, Yet are there means to smooth severity, Which you, and only you, can best apply. Aust. Oh no! the means hang there, there by your side: Enwring your fingers in her flowing hair, And with that weapon drink her heart's best blood; So shall you kill her, but not cruelly, Compar'd to this deliberate, lingering murder. Count. Away with this perverseness! Get thee to her; Tell her my heart is hers; here deep engrav'd In characters indelible, shall rest The sense of her perfections. Why I leave her, Is not from cloy'd or fickle appetite (For infinite is still her power to charm;) But Heaven will have it so. Aust. Oh, name not Heaven! 'Tis too profane abuse. Count. Win her consent. (I know thy sway is boundless o'er her will,) Then join my hand to blooming Isabel. Thus, will you do to all most worthy service; The curse, averted thus, shall pass from Narbonne; My house again may flourish; and proud Godfrey, Who now disputes, will ratify my title, Pleas'd with the rich succession to his heirs. Aust. Has passion drown'd all sense, all memory? She was affianc'd to your son, young Edmund. Count. She never lov'd my son. Our importunity Won her consent, but not her heart, to Edmund. Aust. Did not that speak her soul preoccupied? Some undivulg'd and deepfelt preference? Count. Ha! thou hast rous'd a thought: This Theodore! (Dull that I was, not to perceive it sooner!) He is her paramour! by Heaven, she loves him! Her coldness to my son; her few tears for him; Her flight; this peasant's aiding her; all, all, Make it unquestionable;but he dies. Aust. Astonishment! What does thy phrensy mean? Count. I thank thee, priest! thou serv'st me 'gainst thy will. That slave is in my power. Come, follow me. Thou shalt behold the minion's heart torn out; Then to his mistress bear the trembling present. Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. A Hall. Enter ADELAIDE, JAQUELINE following. Jaq. Where do you fly? Heavens! have you lost all sense? Adel. Oh, 'would I had! for then I should not feel; But I have sense enough to know I am wretched, To see the full extent of misery, Yet not enough to teach me how to bear it. Jaq. I did not think your gentleness of nature Could rise to such extremes. Adel. Am I not tame? What are these tears, this wild, dishevel'd hair? Are these fit signs for such despair as mine? Women will weep for trifles, bawbles, nothing. For very frowardness will weep as I do: A spirit rightly touch'd would pierce the air, Call down invisible legions to his aid, Kindle the elements.But all is calm; No thunder rolls, no warning voice is heard, To tell my frantic father, this black deed Will sink him down to infinite perdition. Jaq. Rest satisfied he cannot be so cruel (Rash as he is) to shed the innocent blood Of a defenceless, unoffending youth. Adel. He cannot be so cruel? Earth and heaven! Did I not see the dreadful preparations? The slaves, who tremble at my father's nod, Pale, and confounded, dress the fatal block? But I will fly; fall prostrate at his feet; If nature is not quite extinguish'd in him, My prayers, my tears, my anguish, sure will move him. Jaq. Move him indeed! but to redoubled fury: He dooms him dead, for loving Isabel; Think, will it quench the fever of his rage, To find he durst aspire to charm his daughter. Adel. Did I hear right? for loving Isabel? I knew not that before. Does he then love her? Jaq. Nothing I heard distinctly; wild confusion Runs through the castle: every busy fool, All ignorant alike, tells different tales. Adel. Away, it cannot be. I know his truth. Oh! I despise myself, that for a moment (Pardon me, love!) could suffer mean suspicion Usurp the seat of generous confidence. Think all alike unjust, my Theodore, When even thy Adelaide could join to wrong thee! Jaq. Yet be advis'd Adel. Oh, leave me to my grief. To whom shall I complain? He but preserv'd My life a little space, to make me feel The extremes of joy and sorrow. Ere we met, My heart was calm as the unconscious babe. Enter FABIAN. Fab. Madam, my lord comes this way, and commands To clear these chambers; what he meditates, 'Tis fit indeed were private. My old age Has liv'd too long, to see my master's shame. Adel. His shame, eternal shame! Oh, more than cruel! How shall I smother it! Fabian, what means he? My fatherhim I speak ofthis young stranger Fab. My heart is rent in pieces: deaf to reason, He hears no counsel but from cruelty. Good Austin intercedes, and weeps in vain. Jaq. There's comfort yet, if he is by his side. Look up, dear lady! Ha! that dying paleness Adel. It is too muchOh, Jaqueline! Jaq. She faints; Her gentle spirits could endure no more. Ha! paler still! Fabian, thy arm; support her. She stirs not yet. Fab. Soft, bear her gently in. ADELAIDE is carried out. SCENE II. Enter COUNT, followed by AUSTIN. Aust. I do believe thee very barbarous; Nay, fear thy reason touch'd; for such wild thoughts, Such bloody purposes, could ne'er proceed From any sober judgment;yet thy heart Will sure recoil at this. Count. Why, think so still; Think me both ruffianlike, and lunatic; One proof at least I'll give of temperate reason, Not to be baited from my fix'd design By a monk's ban, or whining intercession. Aust. Thou canst not mean to do it. Count. Trust thine eyes. Thybalt! bring forth the prisoner; bid my marshal Prepare an axe. The ceremony's short; One stroke, and all is past. Before he die, He shall have leave to thank your godliness, For speeding him so soon from this bad world. Aust. Where is the right, the law, by which you doom him? Count. My will's the law. Aust. A venerable law! The law by which the tiger tears the lamb, And kites devour the dove. A lord of France, Dress'd in a little delegated sway, Strikes at his sovereign's face, while he profanes His functions, trusted for the general good. Count. I answer not to thee. Aust. Answer to Heaven. When call'd to audit in that sacred court, Will that supremacy accept thy plea, \"I did commit foul murder, for I might?\" Count. Soar not too high; talk of the things of earth. I'll give thee ear. Has not thy penitent, Young Isabel, disclos'd her passion to thee? Aust. Never. Count. Just now, her coldness to my son, You said, bespoke her heart preoccupied. The frail and fair make you their oracles; Pent in your close confessionals you sit, Bending your reverend ears to amorous secrets. Aust. Scoffer, no more! stop thy licentious tongue; Turn inward to thy bosom, and reflect Count. That is, be fool'd. Yet will I grant his life, On one condition. Aust. Name it. Count. Join my hand To Isabel. Aust. Not for the world. Count. He dies. THEODORE brought in. Come near, thou wretch! When call'd before me first, With most unwonted patience I endur'd Thy bold avowal of the wrong thou didst me; A wrong so great, that, but for foolish pity, Thy life that instant should have made atonement; But now, convicted of a greater crime, Mercy is quench'd: therefore prepare to die. Theod. I was a captive long 'mongst infidels, Whom falsely I deem'd savage, since I find Even Tunis and Algiers, those nests of ruffians, Might teach civility to polish'd France, If life depends but on a tyrant's frown. Count. Out with thy holy trumpery, priest! delay not, Or, if he trusts in Mahomet, and scorns thee, Away with him this instant. Aust. Hold, I charge you! Theod. The turban'd misbeliever makes some show Of justice, in his deadly processes; Nor drinks the sabre blood thus wantonly, Where men are valued less than nobler beasts. Of what am I accused? Count. Of insolence; Of bold, presumptuous love, that dares aspire To mix the vileness of thy sordid lees With the rich current of a baron's blood. Aust. My heart is touch'd for him.Much injur'd youth, Suppress awhile this swelling indignation; Plead for thy life. Theod. I will not meanly plead; Nor, were my neck bow'd to his bloody block, If love's my crime, would I disown my love. Count. Then, by my soul, thou diest! Theod. And let me die: With my last breath I'll bless her. My spirit, free From earth's encumbering clogs, shall soar above thee. Anxious, as once in life, I'll hover round her, Teach her new courage to sustain this blow, And guard her, tyrant! from thy cruelty. Count. Ha! give me way! Aust. Why, this is madness, youth: You but inflame the rage you should appease. Theod. He thinks me vile. 'Tis true, indeed, I seem so: But, though these humble weeds obscure my outside, I have a soul, disdains his contumely; A guiltless spirit, that provokes no wrong, Nor from a monarch would endure it, offer'd: Uninjur'd, lamb like; but a lion, rous'd. Know, too injurious lord, here stands before thee, The equal of thy birth. Count. Away, base clod. Obey me, slaves.What, all amaz'd with lies? Aust. Yet, hear him, Narbonne: that ingenuous face Looks not a lie. Thou saidst thou wert a captive Turn not away; we are not all like him. Theod. My story's brief. My mother, and myself, (I then an infant) in my father's absence, Were on our frontiers seiz'd by Saracens. Count. A likely tale! a welldevis'd imposture! Who will believe thee? Aust. Go on, say all. Theod. To the fierce bashaw, Hamet, That scourge and terror of the Christian coasts, Were we made slaves at Tunis. Aust. Ha! at Tunis? Seiz'd with thy mother? Lives she, gentle youth? Theod. Ah, no, dear saint! fate ended soon her woes, In pity, ended! On her dying couch, She pray'd for blessings on me. Aust. Be thou blessed! O fail not, nature, but support this conflict! 'Tis not delusion, sure. It must be he. But one thing more; did she not tell thee too, Thy wretched father's name? Theod. The lord of Clarinsal. Why dost thou look so eagerly upon me? If yet he lives, and thou know'st Clarinsal, Tell him my tale. Aust. Mysterious Providence! Count. What's this? the old man trembles and turns pale. Aside. Theod. He will not let his offspring's timeless ghost Walk unappeas'd; but on this cruel head Exact full vengeance for his slaughter'd son. Aust. O Giver of all good! Eternal Lord! Am I so bless'd at last, to see my son? Theod. Let me be deaf for ever, if my ears Deceive me now! did he not say his son? Aust. I did, I did! let this, and this, convince thee. I am that Clarinsal; I am thy father. Count. Why works this foolish moisture to my eyes? Aside. Down, nature! what hast thou to do with vengeance? Theod. Oh, sir! thus bending, let me clasp your knees; Now, in this precious moment, pay at once The long, long debt of a lost son's affection. Count. Aside. Destruction seize them both! Must I behold Their transports, ne'er, perhaps, again to know A son's obedience, or a father's fondness! Aust. Dear boy! what miracle preserved thee thus, To give thee back to France? Theod. No miracle, But common chance. A warlike bark of Spain Bore down, and seiz'd our vessel, as we rov'd Intent on spoil: (for many times, alas! Was I compell'd to join their hated league, And strike with infidels.) My country known, The courteous captain sent me to the shore; Where, vain were my fond hopes to find my father: 'Twas desolation all: a few poor swains Told me, the rumour ran he had renounc'd A hated world, and here in Languedoc, Devoted his remains of life to Heaven. Aust. They told thee truth; and Heaven shall have my prayers, My soul pour'd out in endless gratitude, For this unhoped, immeasurable blessing. Count. Thus far, fond man! I have listen'd to the tale; And think it, as it is, a gross contrivance A trick, devis'd to cheat my credulous reason, And thaw me to a woman's milkiness. Aust. And art thou so unskill'd in nature's language, Still to mistrust us? Could our tongues deceive, Credit, what ne'er was feign'd, the genuine heart: Believe these pangs, these tears of joy and anguish. Count. Or true, or false, to me it matters not. I see thou hast an interest in his life, And by that link I hold thee. Wouldst thou save him, Thou know'st already what my soul is set on, Teach thy proud heart compliance with my will: If notbut now no more.Hear all, and mark me Keep special guard, that none, but by my order, Pass from the castle. By my hopes of heaven, His head goes off, who dares to disobey me! Farewell!if he be dear to thee, remember. Exit COUNT. Aust. If he be dear to me! my vital blood! Image of her, my soul delighted in, Again she lives in thee! Yes, 'twas that voice, That kindred look, rais'd such strong instinct here, And kindled all my bosom at thy danger. Theod. But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd By such insulting, petty despotism? I look to my unguarded side in vain; Had I a sword Aust. Think not of vengeance now; A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him. Pass but a little space, we shall behold him The object of our pity, not our anger. Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it: Empires shall sink; the pond'rous globe of earth Crumble to dust; the sun and stars be quench'd; But O, Eternal Father! of thy will, To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd. Theod. So let it be! but, if his pride must fall, Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue, Confound not with his crimes, her innocence! Make him alone the victim; but with blessings Bright, and distinguish'd, crown his beauteous daughter, The charming Adelaide, my heart's first passion! Aust. Oh most disastrous love! My son, my son, Thy words are poniards here. Alas! I thought (So thought the tyrant, and for that he rag'd) The vows exchang'd 'tween Isabel and thee, Thwarted the issue of his wild designs. Theod. I knew not Isabel, beyond a moment Pass'd in surprise and haste. Aust. O, had malignant fortune toil'd to blast him, Thus had she snar'd him in this fatal passion! And does young Adelaide return thy love? Theod. Bless'd powers, she does! How can you frown, and hear it! Her generous soul, first touch'd by gratitude, Soon own'd a kinder, warmer sympathy. Soft as the fanning of a turtle's plumes, The sweet confession met my enraptur'd ears. Aust. What can I do?Come near, my Theodore; Dost thou believe my affection? Theod. Can I doubt it? Aust. Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee, It must not, cannot be. Theod. My love for Adelaide! Aust. Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee: Thy bane is in the cup. Theod. O bid me rather Tear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy, To this unjust, this cruel interdiction. That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips Well might such words have fallen;but thou, my father Aust. And fond, as ever own'd that tender name. Not I, my son, not I prevent this union, To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish, But nature, fate, and Heaven, all, all forbid it. We must withdraw, where Heaven alone can hear us: Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties; Call every manly principle to steel thee; And, to confirm thy name, secure thy honour, Make one great sacrifice of love to justice. Exeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. A Chamber. ADELAIDE discovered. Adel. Woe treads on woe.Thy life, my Theodore, Thy threaten'd life, snatch'd from the impending stroke, Just gave a moment's respite to my heart; And now a mother's grief, with pangs more keen, Wakes every throbbing sense, and quite o'erwhelms me. Her soul wrapp'd up in his, to talk thus to her! Divorce her, leave her, wed with Isabel, And call on Heaven, to sanctify the outrage! How could my father's bosom meditate What savage tongues would falter even to speak? But see, he comes Enter AUSTIN and JAQUELINE. O let me bend to thank you; In this extreme distress, from you alone (For my poor heart is vain) can she hope comfort. Aust. How heard she the ill tidings? I had hopes His cooler reason would subdue the thought; And Heaven, in pity to her gentle virtues, Might spare her knowing, how he meant to wrong them. Jaq. The rumour of the castle reach'd her first; But his own lips confirm'd the barbarous secret. Sternly, but now, he enter'd her apartment, And, stamping, frown'd her women from her presence! After a little while they had pass'd together, His visage flush'd with rage and mingled shame, He burst into the chamber where we waited, Bade us return, and give our lady aid; Then, covering his face with both his hands, Went forth like one halfcraz'd. Adel. Oh good, kind father! There is a charm in holy eloquence (If words can medicine a pang like this) Perhaps may sooth her. Sighs, and trickling tears, Are all my love can give. As I kneel by her, She gazes on me, clasps me to her bosom; Cries out, My child! my child! then, rising quick, Severely lifts her streaming eyes to heaven; Laughs wildly, and half sounds my father's name; Till, quite o'erpower'd, she sinks from my embrace, While, like the grasp of death, convulsions shake her. Aust. Remorseless man! this wound would reach her heart, And when she falls, his last, best prop, falls with her, And see, the beauteous mourner moves this way: Time has but little injur'd that fair fabric; But cruelty's hard stroke, more fell than time, Works at the base, and shakes it to the centre. Enter the COUNTESS. Countess. Will then, these dreadful sounds ne'er leave my ears? Our marriage was accurs'd; too long we have liv'd \"In bonds forbid; think me no more thy husband; The avenging bolt, for that incestuous name, Falls on my house, and spreads the ruin wide.\" These were his words. Adel. Oh, ponder them no more! Lo! where the blessed minister of peace, He, whose mild counsels wont to charm your care, Is kindly come to cheer your drooping soul; And see, the good man weeps. Countess. What! weep for me? Aust. Ay, tears of blood from my heart's inmost core, And count them drops of water from my eyes, Could they but wash out from your memory The deep affliction, you now labour with. Countess. Then still there is some pity left in man: I judg'd you all by him, and so I wrong'd you. I would have told my story to the sea, When it roar'd wildest; bid the lioness, Robb'd of her young, look with compassion on me; Rather than hoped in any form of man, To find one drop of human gentleness. Aust. Most honour'd lady! Countess. Pray you, come not near me. I am contagion all! some wicked sin, Prodigious, unrepented sin, has stain'd me. Father, 'twould blast thee but to hear the crimes, This woman, who was once the wife of Raymond, This curs'd forsaken woman here, has acted. Aust. What slanderous tongue dare thus profane your virtue? Madam, I know you well; and, by my order, Each day, each hour, of your unspotted life, Might give as fair a lesson to the world, As churchmen's tongues can preach, or saints could practise. Countess. He charges me with allThou, poor Hortensia! What guilt, prepost'rous guilt, is thine to answer! Adel. In mercy, wound not thus your daughter's soul. Aust. A villain or a madman might say this. Countess. What shall I call him? He, who was my husband; My child, thy father;He'll disclaim thee too. But let him cast off all the ties of nature, Abandon us to grief and misery Still will I wander with thee o'er the world: I will not wish my reason may forsake me, Nor sweet oblivious dulness steep my sense, While thy soft age may want a mother's care, A mother's tenderness, to wake and guard thee. Adel. And, if the love of your dear Adelaide, Her reverence, duty, endless gratitude For all your angel goodness, now can move you, Oh, for my sake (lest quite you break my heart) Wear but a little outside show of comfort; A while pretend it, though you feel it not, And I will bless you for deceiving me. Countess. I know 'tis weaknessfolly, to be mov'd thus; And these, I hope, are my last tears for him. Alas, I little knew, deluded wretch! His riotous fancy glow'd with Isabel; That not a thought of me possess'd his mind, But coldness and aversion; how to shun me, And turn me forth a friendless wanderer. Aust. Lady, for your peace, Think, conscience is the deepest source of anguish: A bosom, free like yours, has life's best sunshine; 'Tis the warm blaze in the poor herdsman's hut; That, when the storm howls o'er his humble thatch, Brightens his claybuilt walls, and cheers his soul. Countess. O father, reason is for moderate sorrows; For wounds which time has balm'd; but mine are fresh, All bleeding fresh, and pain beyond my patience. Ungrateful! cruel! how have I deserv'd it? Thou tough, tough heart, break for my ease at once! Aust. I scarce, methinks, can weigh him with himself; Vexations strange, have fallen on him of late! And his distemper'd fancy drives him on To rash designs, where disappointment mads him. Countess. Ah no! his wit is settled, and most subtle; Pride and wild blood are his distemper, father. But here I bid farewell to grief and fondness: Let him go kneel, and sigh to Isabel: And may he as obdurate find her heart, As his has been to me. Aust. Why, that's well said; 'Tis better thus, than with consuming sorrow To feed on your own life. Give anger scope: Time, then, at length, will blunt this killing sense; And peace, he ne'er must know again, be yours. Countess. I was a woman, full of tenderness; I am a woman, stung by injuries. Narbonne was once my husbandmy protector; He waswhat was he not?He is my tyrant; The unnatural tyrant of a heart, that lov'd him. With cool, deliberate baseness, he forsakes me; With scorn as steadfast shall my soul repay it. Aust. You know the imminent danger threatens him, From Godfrey's fearful claim? Countess. Too well I know it; A fearful claim indeed! Aust. Tomorrow's sun Will see him at these gates; but trust my faith, No violence shall reach you. The rash count (Lost to himself) by force detains me here. Vain is his force:our holy sanctuary, Whate'er betides, shall give your virtue shelter; And peace, and piety, alone, approach you. Countess. Oh, that the friendly bosom of the earth Would close on me for ever! Aust. These ill thoughts Must not be cherish'd. That all righteous Power, Whose hand inflicts, knows to reward our patience: Farewell! command me ever as your servant, And take the poor man's all, my prayers and blessing. Exit AUSTIN. Adel. Will you not strive to rest? Alas! 'tis long, Since you have slept. I'll lead you to your couch; And gently touch my lute, to wake some strain, May aid your slumbers. Countess. My sweet comforter! I feel not quite forlorn, when thou art near me. Adel. Lean on my arm. Countess. No, I will in alone. My sense is now unapt for harmony. But go thou to Alphonso's holy shrine; There, with thy innocent hands devoutly rais'd, Implore his sainted spirit, to receive Thy humble supplications; and to avert From thy dear head, the still impending wrath, For one black deed, that threatens all thy race. Exit COUNTESS. Adel. For thee my prayers shall rise, not for myself, And every kindred saint will bend to hear me. But, O my fluttering breast!'Tis Theodore! How sad, and earnestly, he views that paper! It turns him pale. Beshrew the envious paper! Why should it steal the colour from that cheek, Which danger ne'er could blanch? He sees me not. I'll wait; and should sad thoughts disturb his quiet, If love has power, with love's soft breath dispel them. Exit ADELAIDE. Enter THEODORE, with a Paper. Theod. My importunity at last has conquer'd: Weeping, my father gave, and bade me read it. \"'Tis there,\" he cried, \"the mystery of thy birth; There, view thy long divorce from Adelaide.\" Why should I read it? Why with rav'nous haste Gorge down my bane? The worst is yet conceal'd; Then wherefore, eager for my own destruction? Inquire a secret, which, when known, must sink me? My eye starts back from it; my heart stands still; And every pulse, and motion of my blood, With prohibition, strong as sense can utter, Cries out, \"Beware!\"But does my sight deceive? Is it not she? Up, up, you black contents: A brighter object meets my ravish'd eyes. Now let the present moment, love, be thine! For ill, come when it may, must come untimely. Enter ADELAIDE. Adel. Am I not here unwish'd for? Theod. My best angel! Were seas between us, thou art still where I am. I bear thy precious image ever round me, As pious men the relics they adore. Scarce durst I hope to be so blest to see thee, But could not wish a joy beyond thy presence. Adel. O Theodore! what wondrous turns of fortune Have given thee back to a dear parent's arms? And spite of all the horrors which surround me, And worse, each black eventful moment threatens, My bosom glows with rapture at the thought Thou wilt at last be bless'd. Theod. But one way only Can I be bless'd. On thee depends my fate. Lord Raymond, harsh and haughty as he is, And adverse to my father's rigid virtue, When he shall hear our pure, unspotted vows, Will yield thee to my wishes;but, curs'd stars! How shall I speak it? Adel. What? Theod. That holy man, That Clarinsal, whom I am bound to honour, Perversely bids me think of thee no more. Adel. Alas! in what have I offended him? Theod. Not so; he owns thy virtues, and admires them. But with a solemn earnestness that kills me, He urges some mysterious, dreadful cause, Must sunder us for ever. Adel. Oh, then fly me! I am not worth his frown; begone this moment; Leave me to weep my mournful destiny, And find some fairer, happier maid, to bless thee. Theod. Fairer than thee! Oh, heavens! the delicate hand Of nature, in her daintiest mood, ne'er fashion'd Beauty so rare. Love's roseate deity, Fresh from his mother's kiss, breath'd o'er thy mould That soft, ambrosial hue,Fairer than thee! 'Twere blasphemy in any tongue but thine, So to disparage thy unmatch'd perfections. Adel. No, Theodore, I dare not hear thee longer; Perhaps, indeed, there is some fatal cause. Theod. There is not, cannot be. 'Tis but his pride, Stung by resentment 'gainst thy furious father Adel. Ah no; he is too generous, just, and good, To hate me for the offences of my father. But find the cause. At good Alphonso's tomb I go to offer up my orisons; There bring me comfort, and dispel my fears; Or teach me, (oh, hard thought!) to bear our parting. Exit ADELAIDE. Theod. She's gone, and now, firm fortitude, support me! For here I read my sentence; life or death. Takes out the Paper. Thou art the grandson of the good Alphonso, And Narbonne's rightful lord.Ha! is it so? Then has this boist'rous Raymond dar'd insult me, Where I alone should rule:yet not by that Am I condemn'd to lose her. Thou damn'd scroll! I fear thou hast worse poison for my eyes. Long were the champions, bound for Palestine, (Thy grandsire then their chief,) by adverse winds Detain'd in Naples; where he saw, and lov'd, And wedded secretly, Vicenza's daughter; For, till the holy warfare should be clos'd, They deem'd it wise to keep the rite conceal'd. The issue of that marriage was thy mother; But the same hour that gave her to the world, For ever clos'd the fair one's eyes who bore her. Foul treason next cut short thy grandsire's thread; Poison'd he fell. THEODORE pauses, and AUSTIN, who has been some time behind, advances. Aust. By Raymond's felon father, Who, adding fraud to murder, forg'd a will, Devising to himself and his descendants, Thy rights, thy titles, thy inheritance. Theod. Then I am lost Aust. Now think, unkind young man, Was it for naught I warn'd thee to take heed, And smother in its birth this dangerous passion? The Almighty arm, red for thy grandsire's murder, Year after year has terribly been stretch'd O'er all the land, but most this guilty race. Theod. The murderer was guilty, not his race. Aust. Great crimes, like this, have lengthen'd punishments. Why speak the fates by signs and prodigies? Why one by one falls this devoted line, Accomplishing the dreadful prophecy, That none should live to enjoy the fruits of blood? But wave this argument.Thou wilt be call'd To prove thy right, By combat with the Count. Theod. In arms I'll meet him; Tomorrow, now. Aust. And, reeking with his blood, Offer the hand, which shed it, to his daughter? Theod. Ha! Aust. Does it shake thee?Come, my Theodore, Let not a gust of lovesick inclination Root, like a sweeping whirlwind, from thy soul All the fair growth of noble thoughts and virtue, Thy mother planted in thy early youth; Oh, rashly tread not down the promis'd harvest, They toil'd to rear to the full height of honour! Theod. Would I had liv'd obscure in penury, Rather than thus!Distraction!Adelaide! Enter ADELAIDE. Adel. Oh, whither shall I fly! Theod. What means my love? Why thus disturb'd? Adel. The castle is beset; The superstitious, fierce, inconstant people, Madder than storms, with weapons caught in haste, Menace my father's life; rage, and revile him; Call him the heir of murderous usurpation; And swear they'll own no rightful lord but Godfrey. Aust. Blind wretches! I will hence, and try my power To allay the tumult. Follow me, my son! Exit AUSTIN. Adel. Go not defenceless thus; think on thy safety, See, yonder porch opes to the armoury; There coats of mailed proof, falchions, and casques, And all the glittering implements of war, Stand terribly arrang'd. Theod. Heavens! 'twas what I wish'd. Yes, Adelaide, I go to fight for him: Thy father, shall not fall ingloriously; But, when he sees this arm strike at his foes, Shall own, thy Theodore deserv'd his daughter. Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. A Hall. Enter COUNT, FABIAN, AUSTIN, ATTENDANTS with PRISONERS. Count. Hence to a dungeon with those mutinous slaves; There let them prate of prophecies and visions; And when coarse fare and stripes bring back their senses, Perhaps I may relent, and turn them loose To new offences, and fresh chastisement. Exeunt OFFICERS, c. Fab. You bleed, my lord! Count. A scratchdeath! to be bay'd By mungrels! curs! They yelp'd, and show'd their fangs, Growl'd too, as they would bite. But was't not poor, Unlike the generous strain of Godfrey's lineage, To stir the rabble up in nobles' quarrels, And bribe my hinds and vassals to assault me. Aust. They were not stirr'd by Godfrey. Count. Who then stirr'd them? Thyself, perhaps. Was't thou? And yet I wrong thee; Thou didst preach peace; and straight they crouch'd and shrunk, More tam'd by the persuasion of thy tongue, Than losing the hot drops my steel drew from them. Aust. I might, perhaps, have look'd for better thanks, Than taunts to pay my service.But no matter. My son, too, serv'd thee nobly; he bestrode thee, And drove those peasants back, whose staves and clubs, But for his aid, had shiver'd that stout frame: But both, too well accustom'd to thy transports, Nor ask, nor hope thy courtesy. Count. Your pardon! I knew my life was sav'd, but not by whom; I wish'd it not, yet thank him. I was down, Stunn'd in the inglorious broil; and nought remember, More than the shame of such a paltry danger. Where is he? Aust. Here. THEODORE advances from the Back of the Stage. Count. Starting. Ha! angels shelter me! Theod. Why starts he thus? Count. Are miracles renew'd? Art thou not ris'n from the mould'ring grave? And in the awful majesty of death, 'Gainst nature, and the course of mortal thought, Assum'st the likeness of a living form, To blast my soul with horror? Theod. Does he rave? Or means he thus to mock me? Count. Answer me! Speak, some of you, who have the power to speak; Is it not he? Fab. Who, good my lord? Count. Alphonso. His form, his arms, his air, his very frown. Lord of these confines, speakdeclare thy pleasure; Theod. Dost thou not know me then? Count. Ha! Theodore? This sameness, not resemblance, is past faith. All statues, pictures, or the likeness kept By memory, of the good Alphonso living, Are faint and shadowy traces, to this image! Fab. Hear me, my lord, so shall the wonder cease. The very arms he wears, were once Alphonso's. He found them in the stores, and brac'd them on, To assist you in your danger. Count. 'Tis most strange. I strive, but cannot conquer this amazement: I try to take them off; yet still my eyes Again are drawn, as if by magic on him. Aust. Aside to THEODORE. Hear you, my son? Theod. Yes, and it wakes within me, Sensations new till now. Aust. Tomorrow's light Will show him wonders greater.Sir, it pleas'd you, (Wherefore you best can tell) to make us here Your prisoners; but the alarm of your danger Threw wide your gates, and freed us. We return'd To give you safeguard.May we now depart? Count. Ay, to the confines of the farthest earth; For here thy sight unhinges Raymond's soul. Be hid, where air or light may never find thee; And bury too that phantom. Exit COUNT, with his ATTENDANTS. Theod. Insolence! Too proud to thank our kindness! yet, what horror Shook all his frame, when thus I stood before him! Aust. The statue of thy grandsire (The very figure as thou stood'st before him, Arm'd just as thou art), seem'd to move, and live; That breathing marble, which the people's love Rear'd near his tomb, within our convent's walls. Anon I'll lead thee to it. Theod. Let me hence, To shake these trappings off. Aust. Wear them, and mark me. Ere night, thy kinsman Godfrey, will be master Of all thy story: He is brave, and just, And will support thy claim. Should proof and reason Fail with the usurper, thou must try thy sword (And Heaven will strike for thee) in combat with him. The conscious flash of this thy grandsire's mail, Worse than the horrors of the fabled Gorgon, That curdled blood to stone, will shrink his sinews, And cast the wither'd boaster at thy feet. Theod. Grant it ye powers! but not to shed his blood: The father of my Adelaide, that name Aust. Is dearer far than mine;my words are air; My counsels pass unmark'd. But come, my son! Tonight my cell must house thee. Let me show thee The humble mansion of thy lonely father, Proud once, and prosperous; where I have wept, and pray'd, And, lost in cold oblivion of the world, Twice nine long years; thy mother, and thyself, And God, were all my thoughts. Theod. Ay, to the convent! For there my love, my Adelaide, expects me. Aside. Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Apartment in the Castle. Enter COUNT and FABIAN. Count. By hell, this legend of Alphonso's death Hourly gains ground. Fab. They talk of naught besides; And their craz'd notions are so full of wonder, There's scarce a common passage of the times, But straight their folly makes it ominous. Count. Fame, that, like water, widens from its source, Thus often swells, and spreads a shallow falsehood. At first, a twilight tale of village terror, The hair of boors and beldams bristled at it; (Such bloodless fancies wake to nought but fear:) Then, heard with grave derision by the wise, And, from contempt, unsearch'd and unrefuted, It pass'd upon the laziness of faith, Like many a lie, gross, and impossible. Fab. A lie believ'd, may in the end, my lord, Prove fatal as a written gospel truth. Therefore Count. Take heed; and ere the lightning strike, Fly from the sulphurous clouds.I am not dull; For, bright as ruddy meteors through the sky, The thought flames here, shall light me to my safety. Fabian, away! Send hither to me straight, Renchild and Thybalt. Exit FABIAN. They are young and fearless. Thy flight, ungrateful Isabel, compels me To this rude course. I would have all with kindness; Nor stain the snowwhite flower of my true love With spots of violence. But it must be so. This lordly priest, this Clarinsal, or Austin, Like a true churchman, by his calling tainted, Prates conscience; and in craft abets Earl Godfrey, That Isabel may wed his upstart son. Let Rome dart all her lightnings at my head, Till her grey pontiff singe in his own fires: Spite of their rage, I'll force the sanctuary, And bear her off this night, beyond their power; My bride, if she consents; if not, my hostage. Enter Two OFFICERS. Come hither, sirs. Take twenty of your fellows; Post ten at the great gate of Nicholas; The rest, by two's, guard every avenue Leads from the convent to the plain or castle. Charge them (and as their lives shall answer it,) That none but of my train pass out, or enter. 1 Offi. We will, my lord, about it instantly. Count. Temper your zeal, and know your orders first. Take care they spill no blood:no violence, More than resisting who would force a passage: The holy drones may buzz, but have no stings. I mean to take a bawble from the church, A reverend thief stole from me. Near the altar, (That place commands the centre of the aisle) Keep you your watch. If you espy a woman (There can be only she), speed to me straight; You'll find my station near Alphonso's porch. Be swift as winds, and meet me presently. Exeunt severally. SCENE III. The inside of a Convent, with Aisles and Gothic Arches; Part of an Altar appearing on one side; the Statue of ALPHONSO, in Armour, in the centre. Other Statues and Monuments also appearing. ADELAIDE veiled, rising from her knees before the Statue of ALPHONSO. Adel. Alas! 'tis mockery to pray as I do. Thoughts fit for heaven, should rise on seraphs' wings, Unclogg'd with aught of earth; but mine hang here; Beginning, ending, all in Theodore. Why comes he not? 'Tis torture for the unbless'd, To suffer such suspense as my heart aches with. What can it be,this secret, dreadful cause, This shaft unseen, that's wing'd against our love? PerhapsI know not what.At yonder shrine Bending, I'll seal my irrevocable vow: Hear, and record it, choirs of saints and angels! If I am doom'd to sigh for him in vain, No second flame shall ever enter here; But, faithful to thy fond, thy first impression, Turn thou, my breast, to every sense of joy, Cold as the paleey'd marbles which surround me. ADELAIDE withdraws. Enter AUSTIN and THEODORE. Aust. Look round, my son! This consecrated place Contains the untimely ashes of thy grandsire. With all the impious mockery of grief, Here were they laid by the dire hand which sped him. There stands his statue; were a glass before thee, So would it give thee back thy outward self. Theod. And may the Power, which fashion'd thus my outside, With all his nobler ornaments of virtue Sustain my soul! till generous emulation Raise me, by deeds, to equal his renown, And Aust. To avenge him. Not by treachery, But, casting off all thoughts of idle love, Of love illmatch'd, unhappy, ominous, To keep the memory of his wrongs; do justice To his great name, and prove the blood you spring from. Theod. Oh, were the bold possessor of my rights A legion arm'd, the terrors of his sword Resistless as the flash that strikes from heaven, Undaunted would I meet him. His proud crest Should feel the dint of no unpractis'd edge. But, while my arm assails her father's life, The unnatural wound returns to my own breast, And conquest loses Adelaide for ever. Aust. The barbarous deed of Raymond's father lost her. Theod. Pierce not my soul thus. Can you love your son, And coldly tell me, Without one tear unmov'd thus, I must lose her? But where, where is she? Looking out. Heavenly innocence! See, the dear saint kneels at the altar's foot; See, her white hands with fervent clasps are rais'd; Perhaps for me. Have you a heart, my father, And bid me bear to lose her?Hold me not I come, I fly, my life, my all! to join thee. Exit. Aust. Return, return, rash boy!Pernicious chance! One glance from her will quite destroy my work, And leave me but my sorrow for my labour. Follows him. Enter COUNT. Count. Am I turn'd coward, that my tottering knees Knock as I tread the pavement?'Tis the place; The sombrous horror of these longdrawn aisles. My footsteps are beat back by naught but echo, Struck from the caverns of the vaulted dead; Yet now it seem'd as if a host pursued me. The breath, that makes my words, sounds thunderlike. Sure 'twas a deepfetch'd groan.No;hark, again! Then 'tis the language of the tombs; and see! Pointing to the Statue of ALPHONSO. Like their great monarch, he stands rais'd above them. Who's there? Enter Two OFFICERS. 1 Offi. My lord, where are you? Count. Herespeak man! Why do you shake thus? Death! your bloodless cheeks Send fear into me. You, sir, what's the matter? 2 Offi. We have found the lady. Count. My good fellows, where? 1 Offi. Here, from this spot, you may yourself behold her; Her face is towards the altar. Count. Looking out. Blasts upon me! Wither my eyes for ever!Ay, 'tis she; Austin with Theodore; he joins their hands: Destruction seize them! O dull, tardy fool! My love, and my ambition, both defeated! A marriage in my sight! Come forth! come forth! Draws a Dagger. Arise, grim Vengeance, and wash out my shame! Illfated girl! A bloody Hymen waits thee! Rushes out. 1 Offi. His face is black with ragehis eyes flash fire; I do not like this service. 2 Offi. No, nor I. 1 Offi. Heard you that shriek?It thunders. By my soul, I feel as if my blood were froze within me. Speak to me. See he comes. OFFICERS retire. Enter COUNT, with a bloody Dagger. Count. The deed is done. Hark, the deep thunder rolls. I hail the sign; It tells me, in loud greetings, I'm reveng'd. Enter THEODORE, with his Sword drawn. Theod. Where, where's the assassin? Count. Boy, the avenger's here. Behold, this dagger smokes with her heart's blood! That thou stand'st there to brave me, thank that mail, Or, traitor, thou hadst felt me.But 'tis done. Theod. Oh, monstrous! monstrous! Count. Triumph now o'er Narbonne; Boast, how a stripling and a monk deceiv'd The easy Count; but, if thou lov'st thy bride, Take that, and use it nobly. Throws down the Dagger. Theod. 'Gainst thy heart, Barbarian, would I use it: but look there; There are ten thousand daggers. Aust. Without. Ring out the alarm; Fly all; bring aid, if possible, to save her. Enter ADELAIDE, wounded, and supported by AUSTIN. THEODORE advances to her, and assists in supporting and bringing her forward. Some of the COUNT's ATTENDANTS enter from the Castle, with lighted Torches. Count. Ha! lightning shiver me! Adel. My lord! my father! Oh, bear me to his feet. Aust. Thou man of blood, Past utterance lost; see what thy rage has done! Count. Ruin! despair! my child, my Adelaide! Art thou the innocent victim of my fury? Adel. I am, indeed. I know not my offence; Yet sure 'twas great, when my life answers it. Will you forgive me now? Count. Oh, misery! Had I unnumber'd lives, I'd give them all, To lengthen thine an hour. What phrensy seiz'd me! That veil, the glimmering light, my rage, deceiv'd me. Unnatural wound! detested parricide! Good youth, in pity strike this monster dead! Adel. Listen not to his ravings. To THEODORE. Alas, my Theodore! I struggle for a little gasp of breath; Draw it with pain; and sure, in this last moment, You will observe me. Live, I charge you: Forget me not, but love my memory. If I was ever dear to thee, my father, (Those tears declare I was,) will you not hear me, And grant one wish to your expiring child? Count. Speak, tell me quickly, thou dear, suffering angel! Adel. Be gentle to my mother; her kind nature Has suffer'd much; she will need all your care: Forsake her not; and may the Allmerciful Look down with pity on this fatal error; Bless youandoh Dies. Count. She dies in prayer for me; Prays for me, while her life streams from my stroke. What prayers can rise for such a wretch as I am? Seize me, ye fiends! rouse all your stings and torments! See, hell grows darker as I stalk before them. Theod. After looking some time at ADELAIDE's Body. 'Tis my black destiny has murder'd thee. Stand offThey hold him. I will not live. This load of being is intolerable; And, in a happier world, my soul shall join her. Rushes out. Aust. Observe, and keep him from all means of death. Enter COUNTESS, FABIAN, and other ATTENDANTS. Countess. Whence were those cries? what meant that fearful bell? Who shall withhold me? I will not return. Is there a horror I am stranger to? Aust. There is; and so beyond all mortal patience, I can but wish you stripp'd of sense and thought, That it may pass without destroying you. Countess. What is it? speak Aust. Looking towards the Body. Turn not your eyes that way, For there, alas Countess. O Lord of earth and heaven! Is it not she? my daughter, pale and bleeding! She's cold, stark cold:can you not speak to me? Which of you have done this? Count. 'Twas ease till now; Fall, fall, thick darkness, hide me from that face! Aust. Rise, madam, 'tis in vain.Heaven comfort her! Countess. Shall I not strive to warm her in my breast? She is my all; I have nothing left but her. You cannot force me from her. Adelaide! My child, my lovely child! thy mother calls thee. She hears me not;she's dead.Oh, God! I know thee Tell me, while I have sense, for my brain burns; Tell meyet what avails it? I'll not curse There is a Power to punish. Count. Look on me! Thou hadst much cause to think my nature cruel; I wrong'd thee sore, and this was my last deed. Countess. Was thine? thy deed? Oh, execrable monster! Oh, greatly worthy of thy bloodstain'd sire! A murderer he, and thou a parricide! Why did thy barbarous hand refrain from me? I was the hated bar to thy ambition; A stab like this, had set thee free for ever; Sav'd thee from shame, upbraiding, perjuries; But shethis innocentwhat had she done? Count. I thank thee. I was fool enough, or coward, To think of life one moment, to atone By deep repentance for the wrongs I did thee. But hateful to myself, hated by thee; By Heaven abandon'd, and the plague of earth, This, this remains, and all are satisfied. Stabs himself. Forgive me, if 'tis possiblebutoh Dies. Countess. After looking some time distractedly. Where am I? Ruin, and pale death surround me. I was a wife; there gasping lies my husband! A mother too; there breathless lies my child! Look down, oh Heaven! look down with pity on me! I know this place; I'll kneel once more. Hear me, great God of Nature! For this one boon let me not beg in vain; Oh, do not mock me with the hopes of death; These pangs, these struggles, let them be my last; Release thy poor, afflicted, suffering creature; Take me from misery, too sharp to bear, And join me to my child! Falls on the Body of ADELAIDE. Aust. Heaven comfort thee! Hard was your lot, thou lovely innocent; But palms, eternal palms, above shall crown you. For this rash man,yet mercy's infinite, The COUNT. You stand amaz'd. Know, this disastrous scene, Ending the fatal race, concludes your sorrows. Tomorrow meet me round this sacred shrine; Then shall you hear at full a tale of wonder; The rightful Lord of Narbonne shall be own'd; And Heaven in all its ways be justified. Curtain falls. THE END. NARRATIVE OF THE BATTLE OF COWANS FORD, FEBRUARY 1ST, 1781, BY ROBERT HENRY, AND Narrative of the Battle of Kings Mountain, BY CAPTAIN DAVID VANCE. MANUSCRIPT PRESERVED BY ROBERT HENRY, ESQ. COPY FURNISHED BY LYMAN C. DRAPER, LL. D., OF MADISON, WISCONSIN. PUBLISHED BY D. SCHENCK, SR. Greensboro, N. C., March 28th, 1891. Reece  Elam, Printers PREFACE. Having seen the following most valuable and interesting narrative quoted very often in KINGS MOUNTAIN AND ITS HEROES, written by Lyman C. Draper, L.L.D., of Wisconsin, I wrote the Doctor with a view of obtaining the original manuscript if possible, but was unable to procure it. He however very generously intrusted to me the following copy which he had himself carefully transcribed from the original paper in his hands, in January 1874, and which had been sent to him by Dr. J. F. E. Hardy, of Asheville, North Carolina. The original manuscript had been placed in Dr. Hardys possession by Wm. L. Henry, of Buncombe County, a son of Robert HenryWilliam L. Henry is still living. In a note to Kings Mountain and its Heroes, page 259, is the following brief sketch of Robert Henry, who was wise enough to preserve this contribution to our Revolutionary historytowit: Mr. Henry was born in a rail pen, in then Rowan,1 now Iredell county, North Carolina, January 10th 1765. Full of patriotism though young, he shared in the trials and perils of the Revolution, and in due time recovered from the severe wounds he received at Kings Mountain. In 1795, he was one of the party who ran the boundary line between North Carolina and Tennessee. He subsequently studied law, and practiced his profession many years in Buncombe County. He served in the House of Commons in 1833 and 1834. He was a clear and forcible public speaker; and his memory deserves to be held in grateful remembrance for preserving the narrative of the Kings Mountain campaign and battle, so frequently cited in this work. He died in the new County of Clay, North Carolina, January 6th, 1863, within four days of attaining the patriarchal age of ninetyeight years, and he was undoubtedly the last of the heroes of Kings Mountain. Robert Henry lived in the vicinity of Tuckaseage Ford, on the Catawba river, which is about ten miles below Cowans Ford, when Cornwallis crossed at the latter ford. He lived on the West side of the river in Lincoln County. For many years he owned the White Sulphur Springs about five miles South west of Asheville. It was a popular resort in the summer for the wealthy planters from the South and was the scene of much gayety and pleasure. Mr. Henry died in Clay County, the extreme Western county of the State, bordering on Georgia and Tennessee. I have myself heard my grandfather Michael Schenck, of Lincolnton, N. C., speak of Mr. Henry as a great land lawyer. His practice as a surveyor, no doubt, making him formidable in such suits. The public is indebted to the Hon. Theodore F. Davidson, Attorney General of North Carolina, and a greatgrandson of Captain David Vance, for the publication of this narrative. D. SCHENCK, SENIOR. Greensboro, N. C., March the 28th, 1891. Footnote 1: This is manifestly an error. He was born in Tryon. See W. L. Henrys letter to Dr. Hardy. Tryon was changed to Lincoln County. Lincoln was divided and Mr. Henrys birthplace is in the present Gaston county. ROBERT HENRYS NARRATIVE. KINGS MOUNTAIN BATTLE, c. TO DR. J. F. E. HARDY, Asheville, N. C.: My Dear Sir, and Kind Friend: I send you the MS. of my father, ROBERT HENRY. He was born in Tryon (now Lincoln) county, N. C., in a rail pen, 10th February, 1765; was a lawyer and surveyor by profession; was one of the first settlers in Buncombe county; taught School on Swannanoa, the first school taught in Buncombe county. He died in Clay county, N. C., February 6th, 1863, wanting but four days of being 98 years old. THOMAS HENRY, his father, died soon after the Revolution, of rheumatism contracted during the war. THOMAS HENRY was from the North of Ireland. I do not want this manuscript lost, as you see it is in ROBERT HENRYS own hand, and a little relic. If not used, I should like it should be returned to Respectfully, WM. L. HENRY, ASHEVILLE, Buncombe County, N. C. ROBERT HENRYS NARRATIVE. I will proceed to point out and correct some of the errors in WHEELERS HISTORY of North Carolina, so far as respects the transactions of Cornwallis crossing Cowans Ford, on Catawba river, the 1st of February, 1781; then I will give my own version of that transaction; then I will give the common report of the transaction shortly after it happened. Wheelers History, p. 23233: Here (meaning at Cowans Ford) about six hundred militia under General Davidson were posted, and a slight skirmish occurred. A British Colonel (Hall) and three privates were killed, and thirtysix wounded. If we take this account to be true, we must conclude that these militia were very bad marksmen, for they had time to have fired five rounds each, which would have been three thousand single shots, at distances varying from fifty yards to less than twenty yards, over a naked sheet of water; that their enemy was not obscured by smoke, being in water above the waistband, and hanging together by their muskets; that not a single gun was fired by them whilst in the water. This story, if it bears telling, cannot be accredited to be true, that in firing three thousand single shots they only killed four, including Col. Hall, and wounded thirtysix. The story appears further incredible from thisthat in common battles on land, there are as many, and often more, men killed than wounded where the whole force from head to foot is exposed to fire of the opposite party. In the present case, the body, from above the waistband to the top of the head was exposedfor all below was under water and secure from lead. Wounds in the upper part of the body are doubly as apt to kill as those in the lower extremities, from the waistband downward; hence we would expect double as many killed on this occasion as woundedbut the reverse is told, that only four were killed, including Col. Hall, and thirtysix wounded. A further mistake may be noticed. The account states that Davidson had six hundred militia, whereas he had only three hundred. The whole of this quotation should pass for nothing. The next error that I will notice is on page 235 of Wheelers History, which I quote: Soon after the action commenced (meaning at Cowans Ford) General William Davidson was killed, greatly lamented by all who knew him as a talented, brave and generous officer. The true statement is this: Davidson was killed by the first gun that was fired on the British side on that occasion, for they did not fire a gun whilst in the river; and the gun that killed him was fired at the waters edge on the Mecklenburg side; and if Davidsons clothes had been examined, it is probable that they would have shown the mark of powder. The whole of the Americans had left their stands or posts at the waters edge and judiciously fled, lest the British might hem them in by the river; and an utter silence prevailednot a gun firing on either side: Silence was first broken by the report of the gun that killed Davidson. A further quotation from the same page: The Company commanded by Gen. Graham was the first to commence the attack (at Cowans Ford) on the British as they advanced through the river, which was resolutely continued until they reached the bank, loaded their arms, and commenced a heavy fire upon his men, two of whom were killed. The whole of this is a gratuitous statement, for Gen. Graham was not therenor was there either officer or private killed at that place except Gen. Davidson; nor was there any one wounded there except Robert Beatty, who afterwards died of the wound. Gen. Graham and his company may have been at Davidsons camp, three quarters of a mile from the Ford, and two of his men might have been killed there, if they were too tardy in making their escape before the British arrived there. Another quotation from Wheelers History, p. 264: At day break the British army under Cornwallis, on the 1st February, 1781, entered the waters of Catawba, then swollen by heavy rains, at Cowans Ford. The morning was dark and rainy. The light infantry under Col. Hall entered first, followed by the grenadiers and the battalions. The piquet of Gen. Davidson challenged the enemy; receiving no reply the guard fired. This turned out the whole force of Davidson, who kept up a galling fire from the bank. Observe the morning was dark but not rainy. Davidsons army was stationed three quarters of a mile from the Ford, and did not fire a gun at the British whilst in the river, nor after they came across; all the firing by the American side in the river and on the bank was done by the guard. Now, I will give my own version of the transaction of Cornwallis crossing Catawba River at Cowans Ford, 1st February, 1781. Robert Beatty, a lame man, had taken up a school near the Tuckaseage Ford, and had taught two days, and was teaching the third, when news came to the Schoolhouse that Cornwallis was camped at Forneys, about seven miles from the Schoolhouse; that Tarleton was ranging through the country catching whig boys to make musicians of them in the British army. The master instantly dismissed the scholars, directing them to go home and spread the news, and retired himself. I went home, and that night Moses Starret, Alexander Starret, George Gillespie, Robert Gillespie, and Charles Rutledge came to my fathers! We lay out that night, and shortly before daylight my brother, Joseph Henry, who had left the army to give the news, and had crossed Catawba at John Beatties in a canoe; and when he left the army, it was expected that Cornwallis would cross the river at Tuckaseage Ford. Early in the morning this company crossed the river at Beatties, about two miles below Tuckaseage Ford, where we hid our canoe, staid some time at Beattiesthen went up to the Tuckaseage Ford, and the army was at Cowans Ford, we went up the river to John Nightens, who treated us well by giving us potatoes to roast, and some whisky to drink. We became noisy and mischievous. Nighten said we should not have any more whisky. I proposed to go to the camp at the Ford, if any one would let me have a gun and ammunition. My brother said he would give me his; Charles Rutledge proposed also to accompany me if he had a gun and ammunition; when Moses Starret gave him his gun. When about to start, I gave Nighten a hundred dollar Continental bill for a half a pint of whisky. My brother gave another bill of the same size for half a bushel of potatoes. We dispatched the whiskey. Being thus equipped, we went to the Ford, which was about a mile and a half. When we arrived, the guard that was there, thirty in number, made us welcome; the officer of the guard told us that Cornwallis would certainly attempt to cross that night or early in the morning; that each one of the guard had picked their stands to annoy the British as they crossed, so that when the alarm was given they would not be crowded, or be in each others wayand said we must choose our stands. He accompanied usCharles Rutledge chose the uppermost stand, and I chose the lowest, next the getting out place of the Ford; the officer observed, that he considered that Davidson had done wrong, for that the army should have been stationed at the Fordinstead of which it was encamped threefourths of a mile off, and that some person acquainted in the neighborhood of Forney should watch the movements of Cornwallis army, and immediately when they would attempt to march, to hasten to the river and give the alarm; then that Davidsons army might be in readiness to receive them; the river being in the situation that it was then in, and the army thus prepared to receive them, said that Cornwallis and a million of men could not cross without cannon as long as our ammunition would last. This I thought was a large expression; but since I think he was correct.2 He mentioned to each man of the guard to go to his stand again and examine it, so that when the alarm was given, that there should be no mistakes then made. I went to mine, and was well pleased with itfor in shooting, if I would miss my first aim, my lead would range along the British army obliquely and still do damage, and that I could stand it until the British would come to a place the water was riffling over a rock, then it would be time to run away. I remember that I looked over the guard to see if there was any person with whom I was acquainted, and found none but Joel Jetton, and my lame schoolmaster, Robert Beatty, with my comrade, Charles Rutledge. Gen. Joseph Grahams name is mentioned by Wheeler. I was acquainted with him; but he was not there. Shortly after dark a man across the river hooted like an owl, and was answered; a man went to a canoe some distance off, and brought word from him that all was silent in the British camp. The guard all lay down with their guns in their arms, and all were sound asleep at daybreak, except Joel Jetton, who discovered the noise of horses in deep water. The British pilot, Dick Beal being deceived by our fires, had led them into swimming water. Jetton ran to the Ford, the sentry being sound asleep, Jetton kicked him into the river, endeavored to fire his gun, but it was wet: Having discovered the army, ran to our fires, having a fine voice, cried the British! the British! and fired a gunthen each man ran to his stand; when I got to my stand, I saw them red, but thought from loss of sleep my eyes might be mistaken, threw water into them; by the time I was ready to fire, the rest of the guard had fired. I then heard the British splashing and making a noise as if drowning. I fired, and continued firing until I saw that one on horseback had passed my rock in the river, and saw that it was Dick Beal moving his gun from his shoulder, I expected, to shoot me. I ran with all speed up the bank, and when at the top of it, William Polks horse breasted me, and Gen. Davidsons horse, about twenty or thirty feet before Polks horse, and near to the waters edge. All being silent on both sides, I heard the report of a gun, at the waters edge, being the first gun fired on the British side, and which I thought Dick Beal had fired at me. That moment Polk wheeled his horse, and cried fire away, boys; there is help at hand. Turning my eye round, designing to run away, I saw my lame schoolmaster, Beatty, loading his gun by a tree; I thought I could stand it as long as he could, and commenced loading. Beatty fired, then I fired, the heads and shoulders of the British being just above the bank; they made no return fire; silence still prevailed. I observed Beatty loading again; I ran down another loadwhen he fired, he cried its time to run, Bob. I looked past my tree, and saw their guns lowered, and then straightened myself behind my tree. They fired and knocked off some bark from my tree. In the meantime Beatty had turned from his tree, and a bullet hit him in the hip, and broke the upper end of his thigh bone; he fell, still hallowing for me to run. I then ran at the top of my speed about one hundred yards, when a thought struck me that the British had no horsemen to follow me, and that Davidsons army would be down at the river, and a battle would take place. Whereupon I loaded my gun, and went opposite to the Ford, and chose a large tree, sat down by it, and fired about fifty yards at the British. They fired several guns toward the place where I was; but their lead did not come nearer to me than about two rods. I will now account for the great difference between the number of the British killed and those wounded, as stated by Wheeler. The water at the Ford was fully waistband deep, and in many places much deeper, with a very heavy pressing current, and when a man was killed or badly wounded, the current immediately floated him away, so that none of them that were killed or badly wounded were ever brought to the shore; and none but those slightly wounded reached the bank; Col. Hall fell at the bankI account for the three British that were killed as stated by Wheeler, in this way: Beatty, the lame schoolmaster, an excellent marksman, fired twice, at a distance of not more than twenty yards, at the British, after they had ascended the high bank, as before stated; and I fired twice about the same distance. I therefore think Beatty being the best marksman killed two, and I killed one. Wheeler states that on the American side there were two killed: I observe, if there was any one killed that it was not at the river, for the British did not fire a gun whilst in the river, and when they arose the high bank, all were gone but Beatty and myself; that if any were killed, it was at Davidsons camp, three quarters of a mile from the Ford of the river. But I never heard of any one either killed or wounded of the Americans except Robert Beatty on that occasion. I will give an account of the balance of my route after firing the last time, as heretofore stated. I went down the river to John Beatties, where we had left our canoe; there I found my company, the two Starrets, the two Gillespies, my brother Joseph, and my comrade Charles Rutledge. I returned the gun to my brother after counting the cartridgesfound seven missingtherefore I had fired seven times, as I supposed. The company remained at Beatties until the next morning; when we took our canoe to cross the river to the Lincoln side, it was proposed that we would go to James Cunninghams fishtrap, and see if there were any fish in it. When we arrived at the trap, there were fourteen dead men lodged in it, several of whom appeared to have no wound, but had drowned. We pushed them into the water, they floated off, and went each to his own home. This is my version of that transaction. Now, I will give the common report of it. I will begin with the report of Nicholas Gosnell, one of our neighbors, a Tory, who was in Cornwallis army when they crossed the Catawba at Cowans Ford. It was frequently repeated from the extraordinary language he used, and from his manner of expressionit is therefore better imprinted on my memory. I will endeavor to give it in his own language: His Lordship chose Dick Beal for his pilot, as he well knowd the Ford, and a durned pretty pilot he was, for he suffered himself to be led astray by the Rebel fires, and then had to go down to the Ford afterwards; but if he did bad one way, he did good another, for he killed their damned Rebel General. The Rebels were posted at the waters edgethere want many on em; but Ill be durned if they didnt slap the wad to his Majestys men suicidally! for a while; for I saw em hollerin and a snortin and a drowninthe river was full on em a snortin, a hollerin and a drownin until his Lordship reached the off bank; then the Rebels made straight shirt tales, and all was silentthen I tell you his Lordship was Bo sure Super gille cristilum ?,3 and when he rose the bank he was the best dog in the hunt, and not a rebel to be seen. This is the Tory version of Cornwallis crossing Catawba at Cowans Ford. The following is the report of every person who lived at or near the river between Cowans Ford and Tuckaseage Ford: That a great number of British dead were found on Thompsons fishdam, and in his trap, and numbers lodged on brush, and drifted to the banks: that the river stunk with dead carcases; that the British could not have lost less than one hundred men on that occasion. Report of soldiers who were in Davidsons army. When Wm. Polk returned from the river after General Davidson was killed at Cowans Ford, three quarters of a mile from the Fordthey stated that when William Polk returned from the Ford, and reported the death of Gen. Davidson, that some of the army had left, and the rest were in confusion; that Polk prudently marched them off, not being able to fight Cornwallis on equal terms. Footnote 2: Gen. Greene had admonished Davidson of the danger of Tarleton crossing secretly at some private ford and falling on his rear, and for this reason he kept his main force at some distance from the river. D. S. Footnote 3: This seems to be some silly slang of that day. KINGS MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION. I will now give the statement of Col. D. Vance and Gen. Joseph McDowell of the manner of raising the army to oppose Col. Fergusonits marchand the defeat of Ferguson. This part is the statement of Col. Vance; and on a sarcastic and sneering reply by M. Matthews saying that they, to wit the army under Campbell, was a fierce and formidable set of chickens, and could make great havoc among eggs, if each one was provided with a stick. This elicited a more extensive reply and statement of the whole affair and its consequences from Gen. J. McDowell. I will first give the reasons why Vance and McDowell made these statements. The General Assembly of North Carolina made an agreement with that of Tennessee to run and mark the Division line between the two States, and in the year 1799, the State of North Carolina appointed Gen. J. McDowell, Col. David Vance,4 and Mussentine Matthews,5 commissioners on the part of North Carolina, who associated John Strother and Robert Henry surveyors, with the necessary numbers of chainbearers, markers, and packhorsemen for that business, who met and went to the WhiteTop Mountain, a spur of the Stone Mountain, where the Virginia line crossed the latter. Strother did not appear at the commencement. The company were asking a great many detached questions relative to Fergusons defeatat length requested that McDowell or Vance would give them a connected account of the whole transaction from first to last. It was agreed that Col. Vance should give that account. The Colonel agreed to do so on consulting with McDowell, our pilot, Gideon Lewis, who had been a newscarrier, and myself, and relate it on the first wet day that should happen so that we could not progress with the line. Accordingly a wet day happened, when we were at the head of the RoundAbout on the Stone Mountain. Our bark camp was soon fixed, and Col. Vance gave the account, ending with the details of the battle of Kings Mountain. Whereupon M. Matthews observed that we (meaning the army) were a fierce and formidable set of blue hens chickens among eggs, if each one was provided with a stick. This brought a reply from McDowell. That being done, I was provided with a notebook, separate from my surveyors book, to take down a memorandum of particular things that happened, and commenced taking a memorandum of Vances account of that transaction. Whereupon Col. Vance, who was an elegant clerk, told me as there was only one surveyor, that I had not time to do itand if I would give him my book, that he would write it for me, as he had leisure. He took the book, and returned it to me, saying he had paper of his own, at a Spring by the side of Brights Path in the Bald Ground on the Yellow Mountain. Having taken down his own recollections, and also Gen. McDowells reply to M. Matthewswhich is as follows: As I have in some measure to depend on my memory, I will begin with Col. Shelbys retreat after his defeating the British at Ennoree. Col. Charles McDowell had detached Shelby, Sevier, c., with a party to go round where Ferguson was campedwho defeated the British and Tories at Ennoree. When Col. McDowell received intelligence of Gates defeat, and sent an express to Col. Shelby to retreat, Gen. Joseph McDowell was then Major, and I was Captain. Col. Shelby called a council of all his officers to know what was best to do. It was agreed that we must make a woods trip to get round Ferguson and join Col. C. McDowell, carrying the prisoners alternately on horseback, and running on foot short distances. After going some distance, found that Col. C. McDowell had left his camp, and was retreating towards Gilbert Town, we altered our course and overtook him and the main army. After joining Col. C. McDowell, it was proposed by Cols. Shelby and Sevier that they thought an army of volunteers could be raised to defeat Ferguson, stating that Fergusons main business was to kill the Whig stock; that he would be at the heads of Broad River, and then go to the head of Catawba to execute that purpose, which would give time to raise an army of volunteers over the mountains, and in Wilkes and Surry counties. All the officers, and some of the privates were consulted, and all agreed that it was right to make the trial to raise an army. It was then agreed that the prisoners should be sent to Virginia; that Cols. Shelby and Sevier and their men should immediately go over the Mountains home and procure volunteers; that Col. Chas. McDowell should send an express to Cols. Cleveland and Herndon in Wilkes for them to raise volunteers; and that Col. C. McDowell should provide some way to preserve the Whig stock on the head of Catawba, and provide some way also to give intelligence of Fergusons movements. The prisoners were accordingly dispatched to Virginia. Cols. Shelby and Sevier went immediately over the mountains; and Col. C. McDowell wrote to Cols. Cleveland and Herndon to raise volunteers to be ready to march upon the shortest notice;he then called the men on the head of Catawba, and first proposed that they who could not go over the mountains, should take protection on the advance of Ferguson and thereby save the whig stock: Daniel Smith (afterwards Colonel), Thomas Lytle, Robert Patton and J. McDowell of the Pleasant Garden, absolutely refused, and stated that they would drive the Whig stock into the deep coves under the eave of the Black Mountain; that others might take protection and save the stock that remained behind. John Carson, afterwards Colonel, Wm. Davidson, Ben. Davidson and others were appointed to take protection to save the remaining whig stock. James Jack and Archibald Nail were appointed to be newsbearers over the Yellow Mountains to Shelby and were to be passing continuallythat they were to receive the news in the Turkey Cove relative to Fergusons movements. That Joseph Dobson and James McKoy were to be bearers of the like news to Cols. Cleveland and Herndon, and that they were to receive their news at the Montgomery place, afterwards Joseph Dobsons place. Col. Ben. Cleveland appointed his brother, Robert Cleveland and Gideon Lewis, our pilot, to be newsbearers from B. Cleveland to Shelby. Thus the news went the rounds as fast as horses could carry their riders. After Col. C. McDowell had thus arranged his business, he received the news that Ferguson was at Gilbert Town. He then collected all the men that he could procure from Burke county and went to Shelby and Sevier, who had engaged Col. Campbell, of Virginia, also to raise volunteers. The orders given to the volunteers were to equip themselves as quick as possible and have nothing to provide when they were called on to march, but to saddle their horses and march on the shortest notice. Those who could not go supplied those who could with any thing they stood in need of. It was also announced to the volunteers by the officers, that a battle with Ferguson was determined upon, and that they might rely on a battle before they returned home. The news went the rounds by the newscarriers already mentioned, of every thing that happened in Fergusons campuntil the news came that John Carson had played a supple trick on Fergusonthat having saved almost all the whig stock that had not been driven into the coves by Daniel Smith and companythat Ferguson began to suspect Carson for saving whig stockthere being a large quantity of Tory cattle ranging about the large canebreaks where David Greenlee lives, and that a party of Fergusons were fitted out to kill whig stock, and that they designing to go to that place, and another party was going to the Montgomery placethat is the place where Joseph Dobson lives onfor the like purpose. Carson went with the party going to the Montgomery place, without informing the party going to the Greenlee place that the cattle ranging there were Tory stock, the owners being in Fergusons camp. The parties each went to their places of destination, and returned into camp; those who went to the Greenlee place reported that they had killed over one hundred head of three, four, five and six year old rebel steers at the McGonaugh place. J. Carson observed that he expected that those steers were the stock of Joseph Brown, Dement and Johnstone, who were there in the camp. Whereupon Brown, Dement and Johnstone went and discovered that the steers there killed were every one theirs. This turned the Tories rather against Ferguson; whereupon Ferguson stated that the Rebels had outwitted him, and that he could not effect his purpose therethat he would start back to Gilbert Town on a given day. The news was on its passage to Shelby and Cleveland as soon as the breath left Fergusons mouthit did not stop day or nightit was soon at the place of destination. Immediately Shelby directed Campbell and his men to meet him at a given time at Wautaga and Sevier to meet him and Campbell at ten oclock on a given day at the Spring in the Bald Ground, on the Yellow Mountain, at the side of Brights pathall of which were done with great exactness. He issued orders for Cleveland and Herndon to meet him on a given day on Silver Creek, in Burke county; and ordered D. Smith, J. McDowell, Lytle, Patton, and those who had taken protection, to meet him at Wm. Nails by a given night, which was the night next after the meeting on the Yellow Mountain. When the officers met at the Spring on the Yellow Mountain, it was quickly agreed that they would send Col. Charles McDowell with an express to Gen. Gates, for him to send an experienced officer to conduct them in a battle with Ferguson, and as soon as Chas. McDowell, with his silvermounted Tom. Simpson rifle, had disappeared, steering for the path on the Linville Ridge, the army descended the Mountain on Brights path and went to Wm. Nails that night where they met Daniel Smith, Thomas Lytle, Joseph McDowell and Robert Patton, the persons who had driven the whig stock into the coves under the eave of the Black Mountains, and also those who had taken protection. When it was agreed, that D. Smith, T. Lytle and J. McDowell should remain at the head of the river, as they were considered equal to a small army against Indians; and that the Indians were expected to fall on the frontiers as soon as Ferguson left it; and that they should have those who had taken protection to assist them. It was agreed that Joseph McDowell, (now Gen.) should take twenty men with him, and follow Fergusons trail for fear of surprisewho at the head of Silver Creek, near the Pilot Mountain, came on a squad of Tories who were designing to follow Ferguson, and killed some of them and put the rest to flight and returned to the army in the morning after staying the night at Wm. Nailss. The army marched in to Silver Creek, and at the place appointed met Cols. Cleveland and Herndon so exactly that it scarcely occasioned a haltproceeding on to Cane Creek of Broad River at a place afterwards called Probits place. Major Billy Chronicle with twenty men joined the army; no halt calledstill proceeding on. At Camp Creek Cols. William Graham, with one hundred and sixty men well mounted, joinedwho gave intelligence that Ferguson had left Gilbert Town and had crossed Broad River at Twittys Ford on his way to Cruger at NinetySix and that Col. Williams was near to Gilbert Town. It was agreed among the officers while still on the march, that Col. Herndons foot could not overhaul Ferguson before he would reach Ninety Six. They then began to count the number of horsemen that they could raise. Beginning with those under Col. Graham and those of Major Chronicle, Grahams men 160, Chronicles 20, were to count 200 instead of 180. Campbell mentioned to Chronicle that the lad whom he had with him should not hear their enumeration. Chronicle replied that he was a son of Old Rugged and Tough; that his cheek was too well hooped to leakthe lad Robert Henry then listening is now our surveyor. They numbered on, and found their true number to be between six and seven hundred; but told the soldiers it was between 1100 and 2000 1200 counting Williams men. Orders were then given for all who were unable, from any cause that would hinder him in a severe march, should fall back into the foot troops and give their horses to footmen who needed them, in order to be properly equipped for the march; a number of exchanges were made. Further orders were given at Gilbert Town to kill some beeves, which was done; and orders were given for the horsemen to be ready to march at a given time, which was very short. Some of the troops who were tardy got none of the beef?. The line of march was taken to cross Broad River at Pears Ford, below the mouth of Green River, to take a near cut on Ferguson on his way to Ninety Six. The day and night were occasionally showery. We marched on, crossing Fergusons trail in the track (?), and proceeded to the Cowpens and came to a Torys house, pulled him out of bed, treated him roughly, and asked him at what time Ferguson had passed that place. He said he had not passed at all; that he had torch pinethat we might light it and search, and if we could find the track of an army we might hang him, or do what we pleased with him; and if no sign of an army could be found, he would expect more mild treatment. Search was made and no sign of an army found. We then camped, and began to send persons to find Fergusons track. Chronicle proposed to send Enoch Gilmer as one; it was objected to because he was not acquainted with the country. Chronicle said that he could find out any thing better than those acquainted, for he could act any character that he pleased; that he could cry and laugh in the same breath, and those best acquainted would believe that he was in earnest in both; that he could act the fool so that those best acquainted with him would believe him to be deranged; that he was a shrewd, cunning fellow, and a stranger to fear. Hence he was sent among others. He went to a Torys house on Fergusons trail and stated to him that he had been waiting on Fergusons way from Twittys Ford to NinetySix, but missed finding him; that he wished to join the army. The Tory replied, that after Ferguson had crossed the river at Twittys Ford, he had received an express from Lord Cornwallis for him to join the main army at Charlotte; that he had called in Tarleton, and would call in his outposts, and give Gates another defeat, and reduce North Carolina to British rule as he had South Carolina and Georgia, and would enter Virginia with a larger army than ever had been in America. Gilmer gave this account to the officers. This was some time in the day. They then commenced marching to the Cherokee Ford on Broad River. Night came on, and our pilots missed their way, the night being dark and occasionally raining, so that when we came near to the river it was near daylight; and when we came to the river hills it was agreed that we would send Enoch Gilmer to see whether Ferguson had not been apprised of us and would attack us in the river. Orders were given to keep our guns dry, for it was raining. Gilmer was gone for some time, when his voice was heard in the hollow singing BarneyLinn, a favorite blackguard song. This was notice that all was right. Orders were given that the largest horses should be on the upper side. The order was not obeyed. The river was deep, but it was remarked that not one was ducked. After passing the river, it was agreed that Enoch Gilmer should go ahead, and make all the discoveries about Ferguson that he could. He went off in a gallop. The officers kept in front of the privates at a very slow gaitthe men cursing and stating if we were to have a battle, to let it be over, c. All were very hungry, and when we would come to a cornfield, it was soon pulled. The soldiers would cut part of the raw corn off the cobb, and haul the remainder to their horses. After travelling some miles, the officers saw Gilmers horse at a gate about threequarters of a mile ahead. They gave whip to their horses, and went at full speed to the gatealighted, and went into the house. Gilmer was sitting at a table eating. Campbell exclaimed, We have got youyou dd rascal. Gilmer replied, a true Kings man by Gd. Campbell in order to try Gilmers metamorphosis, had provided himself with a rope, with a running noose on it, threw it over Gilmers neck. Gilmer commenced crying and begging. Campbell swore that they would hang him on the bow of the gatewhen Chronicle stated that it was wrong to hang him there, for his ghost would haunt the women, who were now in tears. Campbell observed that was right, that we will hang him on the first stooping limb of a tree that they should pass on the roadthen sending Gilmer along one or two hundred yards, Gilmer crying and begging for his life, the rope was taken from his neck, and he mounted his horse, and was asked what news he had obtained. He stated as follows:That when he came to the Torys house, he professed to be a true Kings man, that he was wishing to join Col. Ferguson, and desired to know where he was, and that he had kissed the two Tory women; that the youngest of the two informed him, that she had been in Fergusons camp that morning; that the camp was about three miles distant from that place; that she had carried him some chickens; that he was camped on a ridge between two branches where some deer hunters had a camp the last Fall. Major Chronicle and Capt. Mattocks stated that the camp referred to was their camp, and that they well knew the ground Ferguson was camped on. Whereupon it was agreed on that they should plan the battle, as they knew the ground. They rode a short distance by themselves, and reported that it was an excellent place to surround Fergusons army, as the shooting would all be up hillthat there would be no danger of our destroying each other; but doubted whether we had men enough to surround them. It was then instantly agreed on by all the officers, that we would attempt to surround our foes. They immediately began to arrange their men, without stopping and assigning to each officer the part he was to take in surrounding the hill. By the time this was done, we were close to our enemy. The last whose duty was to be prescribed was Col. Wm. Graham with his men, who desired leave of absence, alleging that he had received certain intelligence that his wife was dying with the colic, about sixteen miles off, near Armstrongs Ford on the South Fork. Campbell stated to him that should be the greatest inducement for him to stay, that he could carry the newsand if we were successful, it would be to her as good as a dose of medicine. Graham exclaimed, Oh my dear, dear wife! Must I never see her again? Campbell in an angry tone of voice turned to Major Chronicle, and said shall Col. Graham have leave of absence? To which Chronicle repliedit is womans business, let him go. Campbell told Graham he might go. Graham said he must have an escortChronicle told him he might have one; Graham chose David Dickey. Dickey said that he would rather be shot in battle than go. Chronicle saidDaveYou must go. Dickey said he would rather be shot on the spot; but if I must go, I must go, I must. Then Col. Graham and Dickey immediately took to the woods, and disappeared.6 Campbell then mentioned to Chronicle that as Graham has gone, you must take his place: Turning to Col. Hambright, Campbell asked have you any objections? He replied, that it was his wish, as Chronicle best knew the ground. Whereupon Chronicle called come on, my South Fork boys, and took the lead. The hill was surrounded in a few minutes, and the battle commenced. Our enemies had two to our one; of course their fire was double that of ours. We killed 247 of them, and they killed 143 of our side, agreeably to the account of E. Gilmer and Joseph Beatty, supposed to be the most accurate of any. So that they having choice of ground, we fought them two to one; we killed as many more of them as they killed of us, and took more prisoners than we had men to guard them. But we had not a coward to face the hill that daythey all faded off, until within ten minutes of the battle, the last coward left us. Our equals were scarce, and our superiors hard to find. This is the most particular and accurate account, my friend, that I can give you. Whereupon at the head of the RoundAbout, I made a similar statement to our chainbearers, packhorsemen, c. Mussentine Matthews made the following reply: Ah! you would have been a formidable and destructive set of blue hens chickens among eggs, if each one of you had been provided with a good stick. When anybody pretends to tell the story of that transaction, it would be to his credit to play the game of shut mouth.7 This elicited the following reply from Gen. Joseph McDowell: Before that battle (referring to Fergusons defeat,) we had sustained two shameful and disastrous defeatsthat of Gates by treachery; and that of Sumter by carelessness, in quick succession one after the otherupon which, the Tories flocked to the British camps, and increased their numbers to two or three fold; that the country was overrun, and fairly deluged with them, so much that from the pressure of their numbers, the souls of the brave, from necessity were obliged to cower under its weight, and none but the bravest of the brave withstood the shock. At the time when the news of Gates defeat reached Col. Charles McDowell, he had detached Cols. Shelby and Sevier to go round Fergusons camp to dislodge some British and Tories on the Ennoree, near to NinetySix. He then sent an express to Shelby to take care of himself, for Gates was defeated. Whereupon Shelby made the best of his way round Ferguson, and fell in with Charles McDowell and the main body, retreating towards Gilbert Town. Then it was suggested by Shelby, that a sufficient force could be raised over the Mountains, with the assistance from Wilkes and Surry counties, to defeat Ferguson. This was agreed to by all the officers present. The troops were raised without Government orders; each man had to furnish his own provisions, arms, ammunition, horse, and all his equipage, without the value of a gun flint from the public; without pay, or expectation of pay or reward, even to the amount of a Continental dollar depreciated to eight hundred to one. They were all volunteers; they were under no compulsion to go, but each man in advance consulted his own courage, well knowing he was going to fight before his return. They started in a rainy, inclement season of the year, without baggage wagon, packhorse, or tent cloth, across the most rugged bar of mountains in the State, and almost pathless, having only a hunters trail to travel, followed Ferguson through all his windings; at length over took him at Kings Mountain, where he boasted the morning of the battle, that he was on Kings Mountain, and that he was king of that Mountain, and that God Almighty could not drive him from it. There we overhauled him, fought him two to onehence their fire was double that of ours; yet we killed 287 247 of them, to 143 they killed of us. Yet the fate of nations and of battles turn on a pivot. Ferguson, a prudent officer, finding himself beset and surrounded on all sides, ordered his regulars, who had muskets and bayonets, to charge bayonets on Major Chronicles South Fork boys: The regulars having discharged their muskets at a short distance with effect, in turn the Fork Boys discharged their rifles with fatal effect, and retreated, keeping before the points of the bayonets about twenty feet, until they loaded again, when they discharged their rifles, each man dropping his man. This was treatment that British courage could not stand; they in turn retreated with precipitation; then the flag was hoisted, and all was over. If they had succeeded in the charge, it would have made a passway for his army, and they might have turned on our line on the one side of the hill, and defeated us in detail, or have made good their march to Lord Cornwallis at Charlotte, either of which would have been disastrous to the American cause. We had neither a coward or a traitor to face the hill that day. We were the bravest of the brave; we were a formidable flock of blue hens chickens of the game blood, of indomitable courage, and strangers to fear. We were well provided with sticks; we made the egg shellsBritish and Tory skullsfly, like onion peelings in a windy day; the blue cocks flapped their wings and crowedwe are all for Liberty these times; and all was over; our equals were scarce, and our superiors hard to find. Taking the whole campaign, including the battle, I know of no parallel to it in the annals of ancient or Modern warfare; the nearest was that of the Grecian Leonidas and his army at the battle of Thermopylae with the Great Xerxes. Leonidas and his army were found, victualled and clothed at public expense; each individual of our army had to find at his own expense; Leonidas army were under Governmental orders; we were under no government at all, but were volunteers; Leonidas army were furnished with arms and camp equipage: We had to find our own arms, ammunition and horses at our own expense; Leonidas army were under Government pay; we were under no pay or reward, or the expectation of any; Leonidas army had choice of ground at the pass at Thermopylae; our enemies had the boasted choice of ground; Leonidas army had to fight superior numbersso had we; Leonidas had never a cowardneither had we any; but Leonidas had a traitor who was his overthrow and destruction of all but one man: We had neither coward or traitor to face our enemyhence we were successful: Leonidas would have been successful, and have defeated or put to flight the great Xerxes if he had not had a traitor aboard; Leonidas defeat was the destruction of the fine country of Greece, and the burning and destruction of their fine city of Athens, the labor of ages: Our success was the salvation of our country and our liberty. There is no parallel here: We will see if there is any in modern times. The generosity and patriotism of the great Washington has been justly boasted of; he did not charge the United States anything for his services during the Revolution; he was found his food and camp equipage by the public, and every thing else that he stood in need of; his necessary incidental expenses he kept an accurate account of, and they were paid by the public; he was paid for every thing else but his military services. This has been justly considered as great generosity and patriotism, and ought never to be forgotten. But this fight of the blue hens chickens threw this into the shade of an eclipse. Now we will make the comparison. Washington was rich, and had no family to provide for; we were poor, and had families to provide for; he was provided with a horse, victuals, clothing, arms, camp equipage and necessary attendance. We had to provide our own horse, victuals, clothing, arms, ammunition and blankets at our own expense. He charged nothing for his military services; neither did we charge any thing for military services, nor did we receive anything for them; he fought the battles of our country with success; we did the same. The expedition against Ferguson, including the battle at Kings Mountain, did not cost the State, or the United States, the worth of a single Continental dollar depreciated down to eight hundred to one. It was all done at the expense of bravery of the actors in that transaction. There is no parallel here. We will now take a view of the situation of the country after the defeats of Gates and Sumter, and before Fergusons defeat. Cornwallis was in Charlotte with a large army; Rawdon was in Camden with another large army; Leslie was at Winnsborough with a considerable army; Cruger at NinetySix with a large army; McGirt, Cunningham and Brown, each having considerable force, carrying on a savage warfare of murdering, robbing, burning and destroying. George Lumpkin, Ben. Moore and others in Lincoln county, the chief of plunderers. Tarleton  Wemyss having large bodies of dragoons, the best mounted of any that were ever in the United States. For on the fall of Charleston, the British deluged the country with Counterfeit Continental bills, sending emissaries through the three Southern States to purchase up all the best horses belonging to the Whigs, at any price. Beside these armies, numerous squads of Tories, whenever they could collect ten or twelve, were plundering, robbing, and destroying the last piece of whig property they could lay their hands on belonging to the whigs. To finish the list, Ferguson with about 1,200 men, three Fourths Tories, whose principal business it was to destroy whig stock: It is to be observed, that more than one half of their armies consisted of Tories. This is a statement of facts that needs no proof; they cannot be contradicted or denied, for every body knows them to be true. This statement does not take into view the garrisons at Charleston, Savannah, Augusta and other places in the lower country, or the numerous bodies of Tories in the lower part of North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia completely under British rule, and North Carolina at the eve of it. We had no army in any of the three Southern States, under Governmental orders, of any account that I know of except the poor fragments of Gates defeated army, lying near the Virginia line. Marions troops were volunteers, for the State was under British rule. The Mecklenburg Hornets were volunteers from the counties of Rowan, Lincoln and Mecklenburg. From this State of things, Cornwallis could easily have carried out his avowed purpose of again defeating Gates, and entering Virginia, with the most numerous army that had been on the Continent, by calling in some of his needless outposts, and these numerous squads of pettylarceny plunderers, who were raised from poverty to affluence in a few days plundering, and having still the expectation of further advancement by getting the whig plantations if he had succeededthe patriotic State of Virginia would have had to contend with him and his army almost single handed, for it could have received little aid from the conquered States, and but little from Washington, or the Northern States, as they had their hands full with Clinton and his New York Tories. This was the most disastrous period for Liberty and Independence from the time of its Declaration to the end of the war. Liberty and Independence were then shrouded in Egyptian darkness. Fergusons defeat was the turning point in American affairs. The battle, extraordinary as it was, was not more extraordinary than its effects were. Cornwallis on hearing that Ferguson was defeated, immediately dropped the notion of again defeating Gates and entering Virginia with a numerous army, being already galled by the Mecklenburg Hornets, was panicstruck to think that he would, alas! have, at the same time, to encounter the gaffs and spurs of the blue hens chickens as soon as he could filch a few days provisions from under the wings of the Hornets, took nights leave of the Hornets Nest, lest he should disturb the wasps, made a precipitate retrograde march, stopping neither night nor day until he joined Leslie of Winnsborough. Instantly after Fergusons defeat, McGirt, Cunningham and Brown quit their robbing, murdering, burning and destroying, and played the game of the least in sight, and shutmouth into the bargain. Lumpkin, Moore, etc., fled to Nocachey; the petty larceny squads of Tories began to seek their hiding places and holes, like rats and mice when the cat would make her appearance. When Generals Greene and Morgan came from the North with all the force that could be spared from that quarter, with the fragments of Gates defeated army, the brave and cautious Gen. Morgan found that he was unable to fight Tarleton, fled before him, until Williams troops, being chiefly South Carolina and Georgia refugees, who fought under Williams at Fergusons defeat, and the other troops who lived on the east side of the mountains, who fought at the same place, heard of Morgans retreating before Tarleton, and rushed to his assistance. Being thus reinforced, Gen. Morgan turned about and defeated Tarleton at the Cowpens; Gen. Greene had to retreat before Lord Cornwallis until reinforced by the Mecklenburg Hornets, composed of volunteers from Rowan, Lincoln and Mecklenburg counties. Greene turned upon Cornwallis, and at Guilford made an equal fight, neither having the victory. How would it have been with Generals Greene and Morgan if Ferguson had not been defeated? Tarletons force would have been greatly increased, and Cornwallis army would have been more than double the number that appeared on the field of battle at Guilford. All then that Morgan and Greene could have done would have been to retreat and keep out of their way, and permit Cornwallis, agreeably to his avowed intention, to have entered Virginia with the most numerous army that had been in the field since the commencement of the war. Virginia would then have had to contend singlehanded with that formidable force, with the assistance of Gen. Greene. In short, Fergusons defeat was the turning point in American affairs. The loss of this battle would, in all probability, have been the loss of American Independence and the liberty we now enjoy. I never on any occasion feel such dignified pride as when I think that my name counts one of the number that faced the hill at Kings Mountain the day of that battle. Others may think and speak disrespectfully of that transaction who are in favor of monarchy and individual oppression; but that is not Joseph McDowell, nor you, my friend Bob. I have written down my narrative, and Gen. McDowells reply to Musentine Matthews which he delivered to the boys at head of the RoundAbout, on the Stone Mountain, as nearly as memory would servethinking that reading it might fill up a blank in your leisure hours, reflecting on the situation of the times to which the recited facts refer. Your Friend, D. VANCE. Footnote 4: Member of the House of Commons from Burke, 1791. Footnote 5: Member of House Commons from Iredell from 1789 to 1802. Footnote 6: Col. William Graham must not be confounded with Major (afterwards General) Joseph Graham. They were not related to each otherCol. Graham came from Augusta County, Virginia and settled on the First Broad river then Tryon now Cleveland County. He married Susan, daughter of William Twitty. Previous to this battle he had been a good soldier and Indian fighter and was a popular man. See an honorable sketch of him in Hunterss Sketches of North Carolina, p. 522. Footnote 7: All we know about Mussentine Matthews is that he represented Iredell County in the House of Commons from 1789 to 1802 continuously. He was either a Tory or a cynic, it seems. ROBERT HENRYS ACCOUNT. I will now relate a few facts relative to the battle at Kings Mountain that came within my own view, and not related by Col. Vance. In Vances narrative, he refers to Col. W. Grahams and David Dickeys leaving the army to visit his wife, and Major Billy Chronicle taking his place, and calling on his South Fork boys to follow him. At that time Enoch Gilmer called on Hugh Ewin, Adam Barry and myself to follow him close to the foot of the hill. We marched with a quick step, letting Major Chronicle advance about ten steps before us, but further from the hill than we were, until we met the wing from the other side of the hill, then Chronicle having a military hat, but had let it down to shelter the rain from him, and had it not set up, clapped his hand to it in front, and raised it up, and cried Face to the hill. The words were scarcely uttered, when a ball struck him and he dropped; and in a second after a ball struck Wm. Rabb, about six feet from Chronicle,8 and he dropped. We then advanced up the hill close to the Tory lines: There was a log across a hollow that I took my stand by; and stepping one step back, I was safe from the British fire. I there remained firing until the British charged bayonets. When they made the charge, they first fired their guns, at which fire it is supposed they killed Capt. Mattocks, and J. Boyd, wounded Wm. Gilmer and John Chittim. The Fork boys fired and did considerable execution. I was preparing to fire when one of the British advancing, I stepped back and was in the act of cocking my gun when his bayonet was running along the barrel of my gun, and gave me a thrust through my hand and into my thigh; my antagonist and myself both fell. The Fork boys retreated and loaded their guns. I was then lying under the smoke, and it appeared that some of them were not more than a guns length in front of the bayonets, and the farthest could not have been more than twenty feet in front when they discharged their rifles. It was said that every one dropped his man. The British then retreated in great haste, and were pursued by the Fork boys. Wm. Caldwell saw my condition, and pulled the bayonet out of my thigh, but it hung to my hand; he gave my hand a kick, and went on. The thrust gave me much pain, but the pulling of it out was much more severe. With my well hand I picked up my gun, and found her discharged. I suppose that when the soldier made the thrust, I gripped the trigger and discharged herthe load must have passed through his bladder and cut a main artery of his back, as he bled profusely. Immediately after Wm. Caldwell drew the bayonet from me, then the word was that the flag was upthe whigs then shouted Hurra for Liberty, three times at the top of their voices. It was immediately announced that Ferguson was killed. I had a desire to see him, and went and found him dead; he was shot in the face, and in the breast. It was said he had received other wounds. Samuel Talbot turned him over, and got his pocket pistol. Being in much pain and drouthy, went down, left my gun, being unable to carry her, and when I got near to the branch met David Dickey and Col. Wm. Graham riding his large black horse, wielding his sword round his head, crying at the top of his voice, Dam the Tories, and ascended the hill. Having seen him get leave of absence at the commencement of the battle to see his wife, I was filled with excitement and a conflict of passion and extreme pain; but this brought on another set of feelings, that may be understood, but I am not possessed of language to describe. I then went into the branch, drank, bathed my thigh and handthen went to see whether Major Chronicle and Wm. Rabb were dead or woundedfound them dead. I saw some of the boys hauling Capt. Mattocks and John Boyd down the hill; and Samuel Martin carrying Wm. Gilmer, who was wounded in the thigh. Several of the South Fork boys were desirous to start for home that night, and were desirous to know how many were killed on each side. Joseph Beatty and Enoch Gilmer were appointed for that purpose of counting: They reported that 248 British and Tories were killed, and that 143 whigs were killed; they gave no account of the wounded. In the mean time Hugh Ewin, Andrew Barry and Nathaniel Cook brought their horses and mine; put me on my horse, but could not take my gun. We rode over the battleground; saw in some places the dead lay thick, and other places thin. We went about five miles from the battleground, and staid for the night. My wounds pained me extremely. Sunday morning we started for home. When we came to the South Fork, the waters were high, and my company would not suffer me to ride the river, but took me across in a canoe, and hauled me home in a slide. I continued in extreme pain when my mother made a poultice of wet ashes, and applied it to my wounds. This gave me the first ease. On Monday morning by sunrise Hugh Ewin and Andrew Barry came to see me, and immediately after came several Neutralists, as they called themselves, but were really Tories, to hear the news about the battle, when the following dialogue took place between Ewin and Barry on one part, and the Tories on the other: Is it certain that Col. Ferguson is killed, and his army defeated and taken prisoners? E. and B. It is certain, for we saw Ferguson after he was dead, and his army prisoners. Tory. How many men had Col. Ferguson? E. and B. Nearly 1200, but not quite 1200. Tory. Where did they get men enough to defeat him? E. and B. They had the South Carolina and Georgia Refugees, Col. Grahams men, some from Virginia, some from the head of the Yadkin, some from the head of the Catawba, some from over the mountains, and some from every where else. Tory. Tell us how it happened, and all about it. E. and B. We met at Gilbert Town, and found that the foot troops could not overtake Ferguson, and we took between six and seven hundred horsemen, having as many or more footmen to follow; and we overtook Ferguson at Kings Mountain, where we surrounded and defeated him. Tory. Ah! That wont do. Between Six and seven hundred to surround nearly 1200. It would take more than 2000 to surround and take Col. Ferguson. E. and B. But we were all of us blue hens chickens. Tory. There must have been of your foot and horse in all over 4000. We see what you are aboutthat is, to catch Lord Cornwallis napping. Thus ended the dialogue, not more than two hours after sunrise on Monday; and the Neutralists or Tories immediately departed. It was reported that they immediately swam a horse across the Catawba river by the side of a canoe (the Catawba was much higher than the South Fork,) and gave Lord Cornwallis the news of Fergusons defeat. Before my wounds were well, I went to Charlotte, and after Cornwallis had left it, where I met a David Knox, a brother or near relation of James Knox, the grandfather of President Polk, who gave me the following information, to wit: That on Monday next after Fergusons defeat, he, Knox, being a prisoner in the street in Charlotte, that an officer came to the officer of the guard, and the following dialogue took place. The first officer said to the officer of the guard, Did you hear the news? Officer of Guard. No, what news? First Officer. Col. Ferguson is killed, and his whole army defeated and taken prisoners. Officer of Guard. How can that bewhere did the men come from to do that? First Officer. Some of them were from South Carolina and Georgia Refugees, some from Virginia, some from the head of the Yadkin, some from the head of Catawba, some from over the Mountains, and some from every where else: They met at Gilbert Town, about 2000 desperadoes on horseback, calling themselves blue hens chickensstarted in pursuit of Ferguson, leaving as many footmen to follow. They overtook Col. Ferguson at a place called Kings Mountain; there they killed Col. Ferguson after surrounding his army, defeated them and took them prisoners. Officer of Guard. Can this be true? First Officer. As true as the gospel, and we may look out for breakers. Officer of Guard. God bless us! Whereupon David Knox jumped on a pile of firewood in the street, slapped his hands and thighs, and crowed like a cock, exclaiming Day is at hand! Hence he was called Peters Cock, having some analogy to the crowing of the cock when Peter denied his Lord the third time. It was generally considered about Charlotte and elsewhere, that this exaggerated account, given by the Neutralists, of Col. Campbells army, foot and horse, at 4000, which carried a strong air of plausibility with it, was the reason why Lord Cornwallis immediately left Charlotte in the night, after the waters were passable, and did not stop day nor night until he met Gen. Leslie at or near Winnsborough. MEM.Carefully transcribed from the original Manuscript in Robert Henrys handwriting, sent me by mail for the purpose, by Dr. J. F. E. Hardy, of Asheville, N. C., Jan. 26th, 27th, 28th and early the 29th, 1874. L. C. DRAPER. Footnote 8: There is an interesting sketch of Major William Chronicle in Hunters Sketches of North Carolina. He lived in the S. E. part of Lincoln, now Gaston county, was born in 1755; his mother first married a McKee, and lived near Armstrongs ford: When McKee died she married a Chronicle, by whom she had Major William Chronicle. Perhaps Col. Graham would have shared Chronicles fate, at the hand of the sharpshooters if he had remained. DAVID VANCE. When the war between the States began, there still lived in North Carolina men and women who had come down to us from Revolutionary times. They were the repositories of many interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of that stirring period. In addition, a mass of documentary matter had been collected by Hawks, Wheeler, Swain, Graham and others ready for the pen of the historian. But the dreadful clash of resounding arms in 1861, and the equally momentous events which followed the close of military hostilities suspended completely all efforts in this direction and the minds of men were absorbed in the great political and social questions of the times which involved the very existence of the community. With returning peace and prosperity loyal hearts and loving hands resumed the work of historical research, but alas! much precious time and valuable matter had been irretrievably lost. The survivors of the patriots of 177681 had passed away and in their graves had been buried the treasures of their recollections; and many valuable papers collected with much care had been destroyed. Yet much has been done and much remains to be done. We can gather up the fragments and preserve them for those who may come after us. Incidents, trifling in themselves apparently, but which exhibit the manners of the times and illustrate the character of the men who took part in the establishment of our government, now become of great interest. In addition there is the obligationa pleasing burdenwe bear to preserve the memory and perpetuate the virtues of those brave and good men to whose suffering and wisdom we are indebted for the blessings we enjoy. The following sketch of one who took an active part in the early history of western North Carolina has been prepared chiefly for the use of his descendants. It has been decided to print it in order that if it shall contain anything of general interest it will be the more easily preserved. David Vance was descended from that remarkable people, known as ScotchIrish, who were among the earliest settlers of the Southern colonies, and from the beginning exercised a powerful influence in every department of affairs. His father, Samuel, about the middle of the eighteenth century, lived in Frederick county, Virginia, near Zanes Iron Works. His wife was Miss Colville, and of this marriage there were five sons and three daughters; David, the eldest, having been born about the year 1745. His father removed to southwestern Virginia and settled near Abingdon in 1776, where some of his descendants still reside. At what period David came to North Carolina is not precisely known, but about the year 1775 he married, in what is now Burke, but was then Rowan county, Priscilla Brank; and here, pursuing his avocation of surveyor and schoolteacher, the beginning of the Revolutionary war found him. He seems to have been among the first in North Carolina who took up arms in support of the cause of the Colonies. He was commissioned Ensign in the Second North Carolina Continental Regiment on the 8th of June, 1776, and in April following was promoted to a Lieutenancy. He served with his regiment until May or June 1778 when, because of decimation from losses in battle and from sickness the regiments composing the North Carolina Brigade were consolidated by act of the Provincial Congress, he, with many other officers, according to Col. John Pattons return of September 9th, 1778, was sent to Carolina to be assigned to one of the four regiments which were to be thereafter organized in North Carolina. He was with his regiment at Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth, and during that dreadful winter of 177778 at Valley Forge, and doubtless took part in all the other minor engagements of those campaigns. One of his daughters used to tell his grandchildren that, during the privations of the winter at Valley Forge, the officers endeavored to keep up the spirits of their men by promoting games, contests and other amusements, and her father brought home from the war a Spanish Milled dollar which had been presented to him by Washington as the prize won in a running match. It does not seem that he ever reentered the regular service, but resided with his family on the Catawba river, near Morganton, during the year 1778 and 1779, teaching school. He was the neighbor and fast friend of Charles and Joseph McDowell. When the seat of war was transferred from the Northern to the Southern Colonies and the campaigns of 178081 opened in the Carolinas, he again became an active participant in the field, serving under Generals Rutherford, Davidson and Morgan in the militia and other temporary forces raised from time to time to meet the emergencies resulting from Cornwallis invasion. He fought at Ramseurs Mill, Musgroves Mill, Cowpens (probably), and on that glorious day at Kings Mountain, where the long struggle for independence and the destiny of a continent were decided. In his narrative of the events connected with that battle he says he was a captain. It is presumable therefore that in the forces hastily gathered for the purpose of resisting the advance of the British, he commanded a company, most probably in the battalion under Major Joseph McDowell. The war having been ended and the independence of his country secured, he resumed his peaceful pursuits, taking, however, his share of the burden and responsibility in the grave task of establishing a form of government suitable to the condition and wants of the people. It is impossible for us now to appreciate the gravity of the situation which presented itself to the men of those times. The imperfect records which have been preserved of the discussions of the problems they were called upon to solve disclose the anxieties and difficulties which surrounded them. Much as we admire their bravery, endurance and skill in war, it was in the borderfields of politics and statesmanship their wisdom and patriotism were more fully displayed. When we reflect upon the result of their labors and recall the prosperity and happiness the whole country so long enjoyed in consequence, we are almost impelled to believe the marvellous sagacity they exhibited was of divine inspiration. Captain Vance, as he was then called, represented Burke county in the General Assembly of 178586 and in 1791. He was one of the commissioners appointed by the legislature of 1785 to carry into effect the act passed at that session for the relief of the officers, soldiers and seamen who had been disabled in the service of the United States in the late war, and to adjust the controversies arising from the entries of public lands in the District of Morgan. Soon after the treaty of peace with Great Britain, hostilities with the Cherokee Indians, who then occupied that portion the State west of the Blue Ridge, ceased, and the fertile lands of the French Broad Valley began to attract the attention of the emigrant. Some time between the years of 1785 and 1790, Captain Vance crossed the mountains with his family and settled at the head of the lovely little valley of Reems Creek. He here acquired a large and valuable body of land upon which he built a comfortable homeyet standing, a good type of the substantial frontier architecturein which he reared his family and resided the balance of his life. This territory was in then Burke county. At the session of the General Assembly of 1791, Captain Vance introduced and had passed the bill creating the county of Buncombe. As this is the genesis of that now famous county, it will not be inappropriate to insert here an extract from the Journal of the House of Commons for Saturday, December 17th, 1791, the General Assembly then sitting at New Berne: Mr. Vance presented the petition of the inhabitants of that part of Burke county lying west of the Appalachian Mountain, praying that a part of Rutherford county be made into a separate and distinct county. Mr. William Davidson presented a petition to the same effect; both of which being read, Mr. Vance moved for leave and presented a bill to answer the prayer of the said petitions, which was read the first time, passed and sent to the Senate. The Journal of the Senate shows that the bill was received and passed by that body on the same day. The Mr. William Davidson referred to in this extract was the representative from Rutherford county, and at that time resided on the south side of the Swannanoa river not far from the present site of the city of Asheville, that part of Buncombe then being, or supposed to be in Rutherford county. At the organization of the county of Buncombe in April 1792, David Vance was chosen clerk of the County Court, which position he continuously occupied until his death. Some of the records of that court while he was its clerk are extant, and the beauty of his chirography, the order and neatness, as well as the accuracy of his entries, bear witness of his entire qualifications for the duties of his office. A story is related of him in connection with his office of clerk, which shows something of the manners of the time and the character of the man. On one occasion two young men called at his house, one of whom desired to procure a marriage license. They were invited to enter, and the Captain soon produced from his sideboard, a decanter, from which he invited them to refresh themselves. They did so, whereupon the Captain replaced his decanter and proceeded to dispatch the business for which they had come. When they were about to leave, one of the young men ventured to ask for another dram. The old gentleman indignantly refused, and proceeded to read the young man a lecture, which perhaps he never forgot, winding up with the declaration that such a request had never before been heard of in the house of a gentleman. About the time he was elected clerk, he was appointed colonel of militia for Buncombea position then, and for many years after, regarded as the highest dignity and influence in the county organizations. Thereafter he was known as Colonel Vance. He, with Gen. Joseph McDowell and Mussendine Matthews were appointed commissioners by act of the General Assembly at the session of 1796 to settle and mark the boundary line between the States of North Carolina and Tennessee. Although the act was passed in 1796 the commissioners did not run the line until the year 1799. They began at White Top Mountain, a point where the boundaries of North Carolina, Virginia and Tennessee meet and ran westwardly, locating the boundary between Tennessee and North Carolina, to a point at the eastern end of the great Smoky Mountains in a gap near where the present Cattalooche turnpike leading from Waynesville to Tennessee, crosses Mt. Starling. This, at that time, was supposed to be the eastern boundary of the Indian Territory. It was while running this line, the incident occurred which gave rise to the preparation of the accounts of the campaign and Battle of Kings Mountain by Colonel Vance and Robert Henry, Esquire, (the latter being one of the surveyors appointed by the commissioners) known as the VanceHenry Narrative. He survived until the early part of the year 1813, when, having faithfully and honorably accepted and discharged the duties which the conditions of his life demanded; having justly acquired the love and veneration of his fellowcitizens; having lived long enough to see the great principles for which he had fought securely established and his countrymen marching onward toward a glorious and happy future, he peacefully died, leaving behind him the record of a life worthy of the emulation of all men and one which his descendants may proudly contemplate and fondly cherish. He was buried on a beautiful knoll a short distance north of his residence, a spot selected by himself as a last restingplace, and which, it is said, he often spoke of as a beautiful place from which to arise on the Resurrection Morn. He left surviving him, his wife, three sons, Samuel, David and Robert Brank, and five daughters, Jean, who married Hugh Davidson; Elizabeth, who married Mitchell Davidson and after his death Samuel W. Davidson; Sarah, who married  McLean; Priscilla who married  Whitson, and Celia, who married Benjamin S. Brittain. Samuel and Jean, Sarah and Priscilla, with their husbands, about the beginning of this century, removed to and settled upon the lands in Tennessee on the Duck river, which their father had provided for them. They numerous children, some of whom, together with many of their children, still reside in the vicinity. The late Judge Hugh Law Davidson and his brother Robert B. Davidson, who is still living, a highly esteemed citizen and a member of the Bar at Shelbyville, Tennessee, were the sons of Jean. David lived and died in the county of Buncombe. He was the father of Hon. Zebulon B. Vance and Gen. Robert B. Vance. Elizabeth and her husband settled on Jonathans creek in Haywood county, where they reared a large family. Hon. Allen T. Davidson, now living in Asheville, is one of their sons. Robert Brank, never married, suffering from a physical infirmity which forbade a more active life, was carefully educated and became a physician, though he never practiced his profession. He resided in Asheville. While still quite young, he entered public life and was elected to Congress, succeeding Felix Walker, the first representative from the Transmontane District. At the next election he was defeated by Hon. Samuel Carson, and in November following was killed in a duel with that gentlemanthe unhappy event being the result of their canvas. Celia, the youngest child, with her husband, located in that part of the county of Haywood subsequently included in Macon county; but soon afterwards upon the organization of Cherokee county removed to Murphy, where she died in 1876, leaving a number of children and grandchildren, many of whom reside in that vicinity, useful and respected citizens. Although the condition of the country denied to Colonel Vance the opportunities for collegiate training, he seems to have had a taste for books. At the time of his death he had accumulated a respectable library for that period. He was careful that his children should enjoy all the educational advantages which were accessible to them. He was distinguished among his contemporaries for his soundness of judgment, integrity of conduct, firmness of purpose and public spirit. He accumulated a handsome estate for those times, which he disposed of by will prepared by himself. It is an exceedingly interesting document, and perhaps no better index to his character now remains to us or a more fitting close of this imperfect sketch can be made than that contained in the following extracts from it: I hope I may be excused for expatiating in divers parts of this last solemn act upon subjects that require clearness and plainness, for I have heard of so many instances of confusion and disagreement in families, and so much doubt and difficulty for want of absolute clearness in the testaments of departed persons, that I have often concluded (were there no other reasons but those which respect the peace of surviving friends) that the last act as to its designation and operation, ought not to be the last in its composition or making; but should be the result of cool deliberation; and (as is more frequently than justly said) of a sound mind and memory, which are seldom to be met with, but with sound health. All pretenses of insanity of mind are likewise prevented when a testator is pointed and clear in what he wills; all cavils about words are obviated; the obliged are assured, and they enjoy the benefit, for whom the benefit was intended. I, David Vance, of the county of Buncombe, in the State of North Carolina, being of sound and perfect mind and memory, as I hope these presents, drawn up by myself and written with my own hand, will testify, c. In disposing of some old slaves, he directs: It is my will and desire that they have full liberty, and I do by these presents give them full liberty, to go and live with any of my children where their own children live, not as slaves, but as old acquaintances, who labored and spent their strength to raise my said children and their own also. I enjoin it upon my children who may have the children of said black old people not to confine them, but to let them go awhile to one, and awhile to another, where their children may be; and I enjoin it upon my children to see that the evenings of the lives of those black people slide down as comfortable as may be.  And I charge and adjure my negroes, old and young, as they will answer to God, to be obedient and obliging to their mistress and not vex or contrary her in old age.  And now, having disposed of and settled all my worldly business and concerns, do I with a lively faith, humbly lay hold of the meritorious death and sufferings of Christ Jesus and hope and trust thro His atonement to triumph in redeeming love, the ceaseless age of eternity. Illustration: Decorative Image (See TN)  TRANSCRIBERS NOTE Punctuation has been normalized. Variations in hyphenation have been retained as they were in the original publication. Footnotes have been renumbered and relocated at the end of each chapter. The following typographical errors have been fixed: Page Original As Corrected 9 Tuckoseage Tuckaseage 10 to to hasten to hasten 11 staightened straightened 11 by the the time by the time 15 firece fierce 20 Monntain Mountain 21 Willams Williams 22 occassionally occasionally 25 Carolna Carolina 26 minntes minutes 26 continously continuously 28 pealings peelings 28, 29, Thermopyle Thermopylae 28 Geat Great 30 ammuition ammunition 30 emmisaries emissaries 33 fiill fill 34 Willam William 41 establishmant establishment 43 batallion battalion 46, 47, Tennesse Tennessee Caption added to identify Page decoration. Variant spellings of the names Beatty and Beattie have been maintained. Italicized words and phrases are presented by surrounding the text with underscores. images of public domain material from the Google Books project.) Transcribers Note: This text includes characters that require UTF8 (Unicode) file encoding. If the  (oe ligature) does not display properly or if the apostrophes and quotation marks appear as garbage, make sure your text readers character set or file encoding is set to Unicode (UTF8). You may also need to change the default font. Additional notes are at the end of the book. THE REV. SAMUEL PETERS LL. D. GENERAL HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT, FROM ITS FIRST SETTLEMENT UNDER GEORGE FENWICK TO ITS LATEST PERIOD OF AMITY WITH GREAT BRITAIN PRIOR TO THE REVOLUTION; INCLUDING A DESCRIPTION OF THE COUNTRY, AND MANY CURIOUS AND INTERESTING ANECDOTES. WITH AN APPENDIX, POINTING OUT THE CAUSES OF THE REBELLION IN AMERICA; TOGETHER WITH THE PARTICULAR PART TAKEN BY THE PEOPLE OF CONNECTICUT IN ITS PROMOTION. BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE PROVINCE. LONDON: 1781. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, ADDITIONS TO APPENDIX, NOTES, AND EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS, VERIFYING MANY IMPORTANT STATEMENTS MADE BY THE AUTHOR. BY SAMUEL JARVIS McCORMICK. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 549  551 BROADWAY. 1877. COPYRIGHT BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 1877. PREFACE. Though Connecticut be the most flourishing, and, proportionally, the most populous, province in North America, it has hitherto found no writer to introduce it, in its own right, to the notice of the world. Slight and cursory mention in the accounts of other provinces, or of America in general, has yet only been made of it. The historians of New England have constantly endeavored to aggrandize Massachusetts Bay as the parent of the other colonies, and as comprehending all that is worthy of attention in that country. Thus Governor Hutchinson says, in the preface of his history of that province, that there was no importation of planters from England to any part of the continent northward of Maryland, excepting to Massachusetts, for more than fifty years after the colony began; not knowing, or willing to forget, or to conceal, that Saybrook, New Haven, and Long Island, were settled with emigrants from England within half that period. Another reason for the obscurity in which the Connectitensians have hitherto been involved is to be found among their own sinister views and purposes: Prudence dictated that their deficiency in point of right to the soil they occupied, their wanton and barbarous persecutions, illegal practices, daring usurpations, etc., had better be concealed than exposed to public view. To dissipate this cloud of prejudice and knavery, and to bring to light truths long concealed, is the motive of my offering the following sheets to the world. I am bold to assert that Connecticut merits a fuller account than envy or ignorance has yet suffered to be given it; and that I have followed the line of truth freely, and unbiased by partiality or prejudice. The reader, therefore, will not be surprised should I have placed the NewEnglanders in a different light from that in which they have yet appeared: their characterizers have not been sufficiently unprejudiced, unawed by power, or unaffected by the desire of obtaining it, always to set them in a true one. Dr. Mather and Mr. Neal were popular writers, but, at the time they extolled the prudence and piety of the colonists, they suppressed what are called in New England unnecessary truths. Governor Hutchinson, who loved fame, and feared giving offense, published a few only of those truths, which failed not to procure him a proportionate share of popular distrust and odium. For my own part, I believe my readers will give me credit for having neither the favor nor the fear of man before me in writing this history of Connecticut. I discard the one; I court not the other. My sole aim has been to represent the country, the people, and their transactions, in proper colors. Too much, however, must not be expected from me. I am very sensible of many great defects in this performance, wherein very little assistance was to be obtained from publications of others. Mr. Chambers, indeed, who is writing Political Annals of the Present United Colonies, pursues that task with great pains and address. His researches have been of some use to me; but, as to the New England writers, error, disguise, and misrepresentations, too much abound in them to be serviceable in this undertaking, though they related more to the subject than they do. The goodnatured critic, therefore, will excuse the want of a regular and connected detail of facts and events which it was impossible for me to preserve, having been deprived of papers of my ancestors which would have given my relation that and other advantages. I hope, therefore, for much indulgence, striking, as I have done, into a new and dark path, almost without a guide. If I have carried myself through it, though with some digressions, yet without incurring the danger of being accounted a deceiver, my disordered garb will, I presume, find an apology in the ruggedness of the roadmy Scriptural phraseology be ascribed to the usage of my country. For three generations my forefathers were careful observers of the proceedings of the Connecticut colonists; and if their papers and myself should continue in existence till a return of peace shall restore them to my possession, I trust the public will not be displeased with the design I have of committing them to the press. In the mean time, lest that event should never take place, I beg their acceptance of the present volume, which, whatever other historical requisite it may want, must, I think, be allowed to possess originality and truth (rare properties in modern publications), and, therefore, I hope, will not be deemed unworthy the public favor. SECOND PREFACE. Mr. James Hammond Trumbull, the author of the work entitled The Blue Laws of Connecticut and New Haven, and the False Blue Laws invented by the Rev. Samuel Peters, which has just made its appearance, attempts to throw discredit on the work of Dr. Peters, and represents it as a fiction, and a calumny upon the early settlers of Connecticut. Mr. Trumbull seems to have spared no trouble in his researches to show that no such laws as the Blue Laws represented by Dr. Peters were in existence, and to impress this more forcibly upon the public he gives the laws of 1639, 1650, and 1656; when, had he looked more carefully at the doctors History of Connecticut, he would have found he alluded to them in these words: The laws made by the independent Dominion, and nominated the Blue Laws by the neighboring colonies, were never suffered to be printed; nevertheless, Mr. Trumbull shows that there were laws at that time equally repugnant, though clothed in more subtile phraseology, but pointing to the same result, and that these laws were rigidly enforced. Dr. Peterss History of Connecticut was published in London, in 1781, and possibly there are not twenty persons living who have ever read it. As its truthfulness was unpalatable to the Connecticut colony, the issue that came to this country, I believe, was publicly burnt, and the court prohibited the republishing of the work in the State; consequently it has become a very rare work, so much so that in March, 1877, a copy, at a sale of old works, brought the fabulous price of one hundred and fifteen dollars, demonstrating the fact that but few remained in existence. The appearance, therefore, of Mr. Trumbulls work gives the public but one side of the case; under these circumstances I have been induced to republish the work from the original copy belonging to Dr. Peters, using notes and quotations from writers and authors of high repute, and from documents and manuscripts written before the Revolutionary War, which have come into my possession since Mr. Trumbulls work has appeared, and which, I believe, will show the unbiased public that Mr. Trumbull has not been guided solely by unselfishness in attempting to wipe out the ridicule entailed on Connecticut by the early Blue Laws; but he still retains a little of the fanaticism, bigotry, and spleen, so justly attributed to his ancestor, who was the cause of driving Dr. Peters from his native country; and he would now attempt to cast discredit upon a work that was well received in the State by the intelligent portion of the community, and indorsed as a true history. In writing of the Blue Laws, Prof. De Vere, of the University of Virginia, in his volume on Americanisms, published in 1872, says, They are confirmed without a doubt. The late Rev. A. B. Chapin, in his article published in the Churchman of Hartford, Connecticut, August 19, 1876, entitled Was the History of Connecticut a Fabrication? says, If Dr. Peters had had my advantages he might have been a worse historian for Connecticut than he has been already. I might continue such quotations from persons of equally high standing, but my object is to let the work stand upon its merits, giving it to the public as it left the authors hands, merely adding such portions as I find in the unpublished manuscripts in my possession, relating chiefly to the doctor himself, and the cause of his having to leave the country; also to the action taken by the colony of Connecticut for the relief of the destroyers of the teas in Boston. It has not been for the purpose of obtaining a character for the work, which it did not before possess, that I again bring it before the public; but that they may have both sides of the case for their view, joined with that of defending my ancestor, the author, a good and venerable old clergyman, who was driven from his country, and his large estates sequestrated, for obeying the laws of his God, the laws of his country, and the dictates of his conscience, by the fanatics of Connecticut, and from the unjust and unwarrantable attacks of Mr. Trumbull. S. J. MCCORMICK. GENERAL HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. After several unsuccessful attempts to form settlements in the southern part of North America, in which little more had been done than giving the name of Virginia, in compliment to the virgin Queen Elizabeth, to the country, a patent was obtained in 1606, from James I., by Sir Thomas Gates and associates, for all lands there between the thirtyfourth and fortyfifth degrees of north latitude; and, at the patentees own solicitation, they were divided into two companies;1 to the former of which were granted all the lands between the thirtyfourth and fortyfirst degrees of north latitude, and to the latter all those between the thirtyeighth and fortyfifth degrees. A part of the coast of the territory last mentioned being explored in 1614, and a chart presented to the then Prince of Wales, afterward Charles I., it received from him the appellation of New England. In the mean time, however, notwithstanding the claim of the English in general to North America, and the particular grant to Sir Thomas Gates and associates, above mentioned, the Dutch got footing on Manhattan or New York Island, pushed up Hudsons River, as high as Albany, and were beginning to spread on its banks when, in 1614, they were compelled by Sir Samuel Argal to acknowledge themselves subjects of the King of England, and submit to the authority of the Governor of Virginia.2 For the better enabling them to accomplish their American undertakings, the Plymouth Company, in 1620, obtained a new patent, admitting new members of rank and fortune. By this they were styled The Council, established at Plymouth, for planting and governing the said country called New England; and to them were now granted all the lands between the fortieth and fortyeighth degrees of north latitude, and extending east and west from the Atlantic ocean to the South Sea, except such as were then actually possessed by any Christian prince or people.3 Not long afterward, the patentees came to the resolution of making a division of the country among themselves by lot, which they did in the presence of James I. The map of New England, etc., published by Purchas in 1625, which is now become scarce, and probably the only memorial extant of the result, has the following names on the following portions of the coast: Earl of Arundel,  Sir Ferdinando Gorges,  Between the rivers St. Croix and Earl of Carlisle,  Penobscot. Lord Keeper,  Sir William Belassis,  Between Penobscot and Sagadahoc Sir Robert Mansell,  river. Earl of Holderness,  Earl of Pembroke,  Lord Sheffield,  Sir Henry Spelman,  Sir William Apsley,  Between Sagadahoc and Charles Captain Love,  river. Duke of Buckingham,  Earl of Warwick,  Duke of Richmond,  Mr. Jennings,  Dr. Sutcliffe,  Lord Gorges,  Sir Samuel Argal,  Between Charles River and Narraganset. Dr. Bar. Gooch.  In the above map, no names appear on the coast north of the river St. Croix, i. e., Nova Scotia, which was relinquished by the patentees in favor of Sir William Alexander; the coast west of Narraganset is not exhibited by Purchas, so that it is uncertain whether the division above mentioned extended to that or not. Probably, it was not then sufficiently explored. However, in 1635, the patentees, from the exigency of their affairs, thinking a surrender of their patent to the king, with reservation of their several rights with regard to the property of the land, an advisable measure, a new division of the coast was struck out, consisting of twelve lots, extending to and comprising lands on the west side of Hudsons River, and, of course, the Dutch settlement at Manhattan. The following is an account of these lots: 1. From the river St. Croix to Pemaquid. 2. From Pemaquid to Sagadahoc. 3. The land between the rivers Amarascoggin and Kenebec. 4. From Sagadahoc along the seacoast to Piscataqua. 5. From Piscataqua to Naumkeak (or Salem). 6. From Naumkeak, round the seacoast by Cape Cod to Narraganset. 7. From Narraganset to the halfway bound, between that and Connecticut River, and so fifty miles up into the country. 8. From the halfway bound to Connecticut River, and so fifty miles into the country. 9. From Connecticut River along the seacoast of Hudsons River, and so up thirty miles. 10. From the thirty miles end to cross, up forty miles eastward. 11. From the west side of Hudsons River thirty miles up the country toward the fortieth degree, where New England beginneth. 12. From the end of the thirty miles up the said river, northward thirty miles further, and from thence to cross into the land forty miles.(Hutchinsons History of Massachusetts Bay.) These divisions were immediately, on the abovementioned surrender, to be confirmed by the king to the proprietors, and proposed to be erected into so many distinct provinces, under one general Governor of New England. It is certain that this plan was not then carried into execution in the whole. Several, if not all of the lots were formally conveyed to their respective owners previous to the resignation of the patent. How many were confirmed by the king is not known; there is positive evidence of but oneto Sir Ferdinando Gorges. The eighth and ninth lots nearly form the province of Connecticut, taking its name from the great Indian king who reigned when the English made their first inroads into the country. But before I give an account of this event, it may be proper to premise a few particulars concerning the Dutch, already spoken of as having seated themselves on New York Island and the banks of Hudsons River, and also concerning the settlements formed by the English in and near the Massachusetts Bay. The same year which established the Council of Plymouth, established also the Dutch West India Company, to whom the States of Holland are said to have granted, the year after, all the lands between Capes Cod and Henlopen. Under their encouragement and support the Dutch at New York were induced to look upon the act of Argal with contempt; accordingly, they revolted from the allegiance he had imposed upon them, cast off the authority of their English Governor, and proceeded in their colonizing pursuits under one of their own nation; in which they seemed to have employed their wonted industry, having, before the year 1637, erected a fort on the spot where Hartford now stands. A party of Brownists, who in 1619 are said to have obtained a grant of land from the Virginia Company, set sail on the 6th of September in the following year for Hudsons River; but making on the 11th of November the harbor of Cape Cod instead of the place of their destination, and finding themselves not in a fit condition to put to sea again at such a late season of the year, they ranged along the coast till a commodious situation presented itself, when they disembarked, and founded the colony of New Plymouth. Seven years afterward a party of Puritans procured a grant of the lands from Merrimack River to the southernmost part of Massachusetts Bay. They made their first settlement at Naumkeak, by them now named Salem, and a second at Charlestown. Great numbers of the Puritans followed their brethren to New England, so that, within a few years, was laid the foundation of Boston and other towns upon the Massachusetts coast.4 Thus far had colonization taken place in the neighboring country when, in 1634, the first part of the English adventurers arrived in Connecticut from England5 under the conduct of George Fenwick, Esq., and the Rev. Thomas Peters, and established themselves at the mouth of the Connecticut River, where they built a town, and which they called Saybrook, a church, and a fort.6 In 1636 another party proceeded from Boston under the conduct of Mr. John Haynes and the Rev. Thomas Hooker, and in June settled on the west bank of the Connecticut River, where Hartford now stands, notwithstanding the Dutch had found their way thither before them.7 A third party of English settlers in Connecticut were headed by Mr. Theophilus Eaton and the Rev. John Davenport, who left England early in the year 1637, and, contrary to the advice of the people of Massachusetts Bay, who were very desirous of their settling in that province, fixing themselves in the July following on the north side of a small bay wherein the river Quinnipiack empties itself, forty miles southwest of Hartford, and there built the town of New Haven.8 Thus, within the space of three years, was Connecticut seized upon by three distinct English parties, in three different places, forming a triangle; by what authority I will now beg leave to inquire. In favor of the first, it is alleged that they purchased part of the lands belonging to the Lords Say and Brook, which land included the eighth and ninth lots, and had been assigned to them by the Earl of Warwick, who, about the year 1630, obtained a grant of the same from the Council of Plymouth, and a patent from the king, and that Fenwick was properly commissioned to settle and govern the colony. Neal, Douglas, and Hutchinson, speak of the grant and assignment with the greatest confidence, but make no reference where either may be consulted. They were very willing to believe what they said, and wished to palm it upon the credulity of their readers as a fact too well established to need proof. I shall endeavor to show the futility of their assertions; indeed, Mr. Hutchinson himself inadvertently gives reason to doubt the truth of them, writing of the transactions of 1622: The Earl of Warwick, says he, we are assured, had a patent for the Massachusetts Bay about the same time, but the bounds are not known. It will appear presently that a part of the territory in question was, in 1635, granted to the Marquis of Hamilton. Now, taking these several items together, the Council of Plymouth are represented to have granted not only to Massachusetts Bay in 1622, but also, in 1630, a region of vast extent, including Connecticut, to the Earl of Warwick; and then, in 1635, they have regranted the best part of the latter to the Marquis of Hamilton. There is an infeasibility in this supposition that, without proof, will deprive it of all credit among persons who have no particular interest in the support of it. True it is that Fenwick and his associates were properly authorized to settle upon lands belonging to Lords Say and Brook; but that the lands they did settle upon were the property of the Earl of Warwick is not only without proof, but against it. It seems to be generally agreed that the Lords Say and Brook were understood to have a right to lands upon Connecticut River, but that river being five hundred miles long, and running through the greatest part of New England, the situation of their property was by no means pointed out; whether it lay at the mouth, the middle, or the northern end, was equally unascertained. The settlers, indeed, established themselves at the mouth, but without showing their right to the spot; they licentiously chose it. There never has been produced any writing of conveyance of the land in question from the Council of Plymouth to the Earl of Warwick, or from the Earl of Warwick to the Lords Say and Brook, and therefore their title to it must be deemed not good in law. By a letter from Lord Say to Mr. Vane, in 1635, it appears that he (Lord Say), Lord Brook, and others, had thought of removing to New England, but were not determined whether to join the adventurers in Boston or settle a new colony.(Hutchinsons History, vol. i., p. 42.) If Connecticut had been assigned to Lords Say and Brook by the Earl of Warwick, as it is pretended was done in 1631, it is very strange that those lords should have been in doubt in 1635 where to fix themselves in New England, since interest and ambition, as well as fertility of soil, would naturally have led them to settle in Connecticut, where they had land of their own, and where a settlement was already begun, and bore a very promising appearance. Hence, it seems but reasonable to suppose that if Lords Say and Brook were entitled to any land on Connecticut River it could not lie within the province of Connecticut; and, if their claims were derived from the Earl of Warwick, it may fairly be concluded that their property lay much higher up the country, since the coast appropriated to the Earl of Warwick by Purchas is that at or about Cape Ann. Lords Say and Brook, therefore, might have a right to send Fenwick, Peters, etc., to colonize on the north parts of Connecticut River, but not southwardly, at the mouth of it; and their neglect of the colony at Saybrook may easily be accounted for, by supposing that they were sensible the settlers had fixed upon a wrong sitean idea corroborated by this circumstance, that Fenwick some years after sold his property there for a mere trifle, when he might have sold it dear if his title had been good. But, it may be asked, who were the real proprietors of the eighth and ninth lots? It is asserted that, on the Council of Plymouths resignation of their patent to Charles I. in 1635, that monarch granted the latter to the Earl of Stirling. Possibly there is not now existing any written testimony of this grant, yet it seems authenticated by the sale which the earl made in 1639, by his agent, Forrest, of the eastern part of Long Island, as appertaining to his lot, to Mr. Howell. However, though his claim is not, perhaps, clearly to be established, it is by no means liable to the many objections urged against that of Lords Say and Brook, which will in a manner be annihilated by the additional argument I am now going to adduce from the positive proof there is to whom the eighth lot really belongs. It stands authenticated in the office of the Lords Commissioners of Colonies that, in April, 1635, was conveyed to James, Marquis of Hamilton, by a deed from the Council of Plymouth, the territory lying between Narraganset Bay and Connecticut River.9 The right to the eighth lot, therefore, was clearly vested in the marquis; and it only remains to be shown why his descendants are not in possession of it to remove every doubt upon the matter.10 Unfortunately, in the civil broils of his time the marquis engaged and died fighting under the royal banners, while the kings enemies took possession of his lands in Connecticut. At the restoration of Charles II. to his crown, reason taught the children of royal sufferers to expect a restoration at least of their landed property; and the daughter of the Marquis of Hamilton petitioned Charles II. to grant her relief with respect to the land lying between Narraganset Bay and the Connecticut Rivera relief she had the more reason to hope for, as her father had died fighting for his father. But Charles had been too much polished in foreign courts to do anything effectual for his suffering friends. Afterward the Earl of Arran applied to William III. for redress in regard to the same land; but that earl having acted on the wrong side at the revolution, could not but expect as little from William as the friends of Charles II. had received from him. However, William III. ordered the Lords Commissioners of the colonies to state his title, which they fairly did; and the earl was referred to try his case in Connecticut, before the very people who had his lands in possession. The Governor and Company of Connecticut gave a formal answer to the claims of the Earl of Arran, setting up a title under the Earl of Warwick, as is above mentioned, who, they said, disposed of the land in dispute to Lord Say and Seal and Lord Brook, and the Lords Say and Brook sold the same to Fenwick, Peters, and others. The Earl of Arran answered that, when they produced a grant from the Plymouth Company, of those lands to the Earl of Warwick, it should have an answer; but the colony was silent, and King William was silent also.(Vide Records of New England, A., pp. 170201.) Since, then, no proof of any title derived from the Earl of Warwick could be produced by the Governor and Company of Connecticut, when the question of right to the country was fairly brought into litigation, and since there is a record of the grant of the eastern part of it to the Marquis of Hamilton, it is evident that the claim of the present possessors under Lords Say and Brook is not valid. The record of the Marquis of Hamilton grant is an irrefragable proof that those lords had no right to the tract between Narraganset Bay and Connecticut River; and thence the conclusion is fair that they had no right to the tract between Connecticut and Hudsons River; for their title to both having but one and the same foundation, it follows, of course, that what destroys it in the former destroys it in the latter also. However disputable the Earl of Stirlings claim to the land between Hudson and Connecticut Rivers may be, the Duke of Hamilton is undoubtedly the rightful owner of that between the latter and Narraganset Bay. This much I have proved, to show the errors of Mather, Neal, Douglas, and Hutchinson, who assert what the above record contradicts. I differ in opinion also with divines who say that the world grows every day worse than it was the last. I believe the world is growing better every year; and that justice will be administered to the Duke of Hamilton, and other noble proprietors of lands in New England, who have been wickedly supplanted by the emigration of Puritans, republicans, regicides, and smugglers. The time, I hope, is hastening, when the records I have quoted will be considered, and unjust possessors be ordered to give up their possessions to the right owners; for we have a king who honors his crown, and prefers justice to policy. Hooker and Haynes, who conducted the second of the three English parties already spoken of as making inroads into Connecticut, and who fixed their headquarters at Hertford, left Massachusets Bay for the same reason they had before left Englandto avoid being persecuted, and to acquire the power to persecute. Hooker was learned, ambitious, and rigid. He lived near Boston two years, in hopes of becoming a greater favorite with the people than the celebrated Mr. Cotton; but, finding himself rather unlikely to meet with the desired success, he devised the project of flying into the wilderness of Connecticut, to get a name. Accordingly, in 1635 he applied to the General Court for leave to remove thither, but was refused. The next year, however, for reasons which will hereafter appear, he found the fanatics more compliant; and he and Haynes obtained permission to emigrate into Connecticut, carrying with them, as Mr. Neal expresses it, a sort of commission from the government of Massachusets Bay for the administration of justice there. But it cannot be supposed that Hooker and his associates could derive any title to the soil, from this permission and commission granted by the Massachusets colony, who had not the least right to it themselves. The emigrants not only did not entertain any such idea, but, as soon as they had discovered a situation that pleased them, they even set at naught the commission which they took with them, the professed object of which was to secure the authority and jurisdiction claimed by the Massachusets colony over them. Knowing that they had passed the limits of that province, they voted themselves an independent people, and commenced despots, pleading the old adage, Salus populi suprema lex. It has never been suggested, I believe, that this party entered Connecticut with any other semblance of authority than this ridiculous permission and commission of the Massachusets dictators.11 As to the third party, headed by Eaton and Davenport, they took possession, as is already mentioned, without even pretending any purchase, grant, permission, or commission, from any one. Of these three parties, then, it appears that the last two had not the least shadow of original right to the lands they possessed themselves in Connecticut; and the claims of the first I have shown to be illfounded. I will now consider the right they are pretended to have acquired after possession; in regard to which they seem to have been put upon the same footing, by a general war between them and the Indians, occasioned by the ambitious, oppressive, and unjust conduct of Hooker and Davenport. This war opened a door to kingkilling and kingmaking, violence, and injustice, in America, similar to what we have of late years shuddered to hear of in India. Hence the colonies have endeavored to establish a title to the lands by purchase of the natives. Accordingly, they have produced deeds of sale signed by Sunksquaw, Uncas, Joshua, Moodus, and others, whom Mr. Neal and Dr. Mather call sachems, and consequently owners of the soil. Whether those gentlemen knew, or did not know, that Connecticut was owned by these sachems only, who, with their wives and families, were killed by the English, and who never would give a deed of any land to the Dutch or English, is not material; since it is a fact that not one of those Indians who have signed those famous deeds was ever a sachem or a proprietor of a single foot of land claimed by the colony. It is true that Uncas (whom Mr. Neal calls a sachem, because the colonists declared him King of Mohegan, to reward him for deserting Sassacus, sachem of the Pequods) gave deeds of the land that he had no right or title to; and so did Sunksquaw, who, after murdering his sachem Quinnipiog, was also declared sachem by the English Dominion12 of Newhaven. Gratitude, or pride, induced all those Englishmade sachems to assign deeds to their creators. After the death of Uncas, his eldest son, Oneko, became King of Mohegan, who refused to grant any deeds of land to the colony; whereupon, vexed at his wisdom and honor, they declared him an incestuous son, deposed him, and proclaimed his natural brother, Abimeleck, to be sachem of the Mohegans. Oneko gave a deed of all his lands to Mason and Harrison, who were his friends; as did Abimeleck, of the same lands, to the colony who had made him sachem. This laid a foundation for a suit at law, which was first tried before the judges of the colony, where Mason, of course, lost his suit. He appealed to the King in Council, who ordered a special court to sit at Norwich, in Connecticut: Mr. Dudley, a learned man, and Governor of Massachusetts Bay, was president of it. The court met, and, having heard the evidence and pleadings of both parties, gave a verdict in favor of Masons claim. The colony appealed home to England, but never prosecuted their suit to an issue. Mason died. The colony kept possession under Abimeleck, their created King of Mohegan. About ten years ago the heirs of Mason and Harrison petitioned the government to decree that Dudleys verdict should be enforced; but the colonists found means to confound the claims of those competitors without establishing their own. The truth is, neither the colonists nor Mason and Harrison ever had any deed or title to those lands from Sassacus or his heirs; their deeds spring from Uncas, already mentioned, a rebel subject of Sassacus, without any royal blood in his veins. Nevertheless, Mr. Neal, and others, who have written histories of New England, have taken especial care to vindicate the justice of the settlers, who always, they say, conscientiously purchased their lands of the sachems. I have given the reader some idea of the purchases of the first colonizers in Connecticut, who by their iniquitous act of making Sachems have entailed lawsuits without end on their posterity; for there is not one foot of land in the whole province which is not covered by ten deeds granted by ten different nominal sachems to ten different persons; and, what aggravates the misfortune, the courts of justice differ every session concerning the true sachem, so that what a plaintiff recovers at a hearing before one jury, he loses upon a rehearing before another. Enough, surely, has been said to nullify the colonists plea for having bought their lands from the Indians. As to any purchases made of the Saybrook settlers, those of Hertford totally declined them till the farcical business respecting their charter came into agitation between the two juntos who procured it, of which I shall speak hereafter; and, so far were the people of Newhaven from buying any right of Fenwick or his associates that they scorned the idea of claiming under them; nay, it was one of their principal views, in the machinations wherein they were continually employed, to reduce the Saybrook colony under the tyranny of their own dominions as having no more title to the country than possession gave them. And, upon the other supposition, it is impossible to account for the neglect of the colonizers of Hertford to secure their lands by such a purchase, seeming as they did to ransack heaven and earth for a title satisfactory even in their own eyes; they were conscious no purchase of that kind could give them firmer footing than they had already. The truth, therefore, undoubtedly is that Fenwick and Peters had no legal right to sell the lands they occupied, whatever might be their pretensions; nor, indeed, did they pretend to the power of selling more on their own account than was granted to them severally by their patronsthe Lords Say and Brookwhich cannot be supposed but an inconsiderable proportion of their American property. No wonder, then, that we find another claim set upa claim by conquest. This was particularly agreeable to the genius of the Hertford and Newhaven heroes, but will nevertheless appear to as little for their right as their honor, from the following considerations: 1. The invaders did not find Connecticut in a state of Nature, but cultivated and settled by its Indian inhabitants, whose numbers were thousands, and who had three kings, viz., Connecticote, Quinnipiog, and Sassacus, of whom Connecticote was the emperor, or king of kingsa dignity he and his ancestors had enjoyed, according to the Indian mode of reckoning, twenty sticks,13 i. e., time immemorial; 2. They had no authority to invade, make war upon, and conquer the Indians, who were not at war with the King of England, nor his patentees, or their assignees; and, 3. Seizures, without legal commission, of however long standing, do not convey right or title by the English law. Feeling the weight of these considerations, the colonists have been obliged to found their claim to the country on their charter, which was obtained in 1662more than twentysix years after they had taken possession. Here, again, they are destitute of support, for the king, any more than his subjects, could not give to others the property of the Duke of Hamilton unless his title had been proved to be forfeited by due course of law. But the charter created no title; it merely conferred on the people the authority of a legal corporation, without conveying any title to the lands. And, indeed, the prevarications of the colonists themselves with regard to the charterclaim sufficiently explode it. Whenever they find their property affected by any duty, custom, etc., imposed by Parliament, and warranted by charter, they allege that they got the lands in possession by their own arms, without the aid of the King and Parliament of Great Britain; as Charles II. allowed in granting the charter, which conveyed no title, but was founded upon the title they possessed before the date of it. At other times, when these selfish temporizers find it convenient either for promoting their own, or preventing their neighbors encroachments, they then plead their charter as the one only thing needful to prove their right of land even to the South Sea itself. In short, and upon the whole, possession, begun in usurpation, is the best title the inhabitants of Connecticut ever had, or can set up, unless they can prove they hold the lands by a heavenly grant, as the Israelites did those of Canaan. This heavenly title was, indeed, set up by Peters, Hooker, and Davenport, the first three ministers that settled Connecticut, and is generally believed through the Colony to this day. They thus syllogistically stated it: The heathen are driven out, and we have their lands in possession; they were numerous, and we but few; therefore, the Lord hath done this great work, to give his beloved rest. This much for the various pretensions of the occupiers of Connecticut in regard to their right to the soil. I shall now give some account of the proceedings of the first settlers with respect to their religious and civil establishments, and of their political transactions, etc. The party which settled at Saybrook, under George Fenwick, Esquire, and the Rev. Thomas Peters, in 1634, contented themselves, in framing the polity of their civil constitution, with the laws of England and a few local regulations. As to their ecclesiastical institutions, they voted themselves to be a church independent on lords bishops, and Mr. Peters to be their minister, whose episcopal ordination was deemed good, notwithstanding he had been silenced in England. They voted presbyters to be bishops, and possessed of power to ordain ministers when invited by a proper number of people formed into a society by a license from the Governor. They voted that a certain part of the liturgy of the Church of England might be usedthe Lords Prayer, the Apostles Creed, together with one chapter in the Bible, to be read at morning and evening service, or omitted, at the discretion of the minister; that extempore prayers might be used at the pleasure of the minister, but that the surplice should not be worn, nor should the sign of the cross at baptisms, the ceremony of the ring at marriages, or saintsdays, etc., be observed, as in the Church of England; that every society licensed by the Governor, after having a minister ordained over it, be a complete church, and invested with the keys of discipline, dependent only upon Christ, the head of the church; that the minister should be the judge of the qualifications of churchmembership, and should censure disorderly walkers; that the members in full communion should have power over the minister, and might dismiss him from his parish by a majority of voices and with the consent of the Governor; that all children were the objects of baptism, and that none should be debarred that sacrament for the sins of their parents, provided an orderly liver would engage to bring them up in the ways of Christianity; that all sober persons might partake of the Lords Supper, provided the minister, upon examination, should find them sufficiently acquainted with their duty; that what is commonly called conversion is not absolutely necessary before receiving the Lords Supper, because that sacrament is a converting ordinance; that all gospel ministers were upon an equality in office; and that it was the business of every one to admonish the transgressor, privately in the first place, and next, if no attention was paid to his advice, before his deacons; then, if their admonishment was disregarded, the offender should be presented to the church (that is, the minister, deacons, and communicants, united by the keys of discipline), and, upon his still continuing refractory, he should be censured and rejected by the majority of voters without any appeal; that deacons should be chosen by the minister and communicants upon a majority of voices, and ordained by the minister according to the holy practice of St. Paul; that it was the duty of the Governor and civil magistrates to protect and nurture the Church, but not to govern it, because Christs authority, given to his Church, was above principalities and all civil powers, etc., etc. The settlers of Hertford, having declared themselves to be an independent Colony, and that their dominions extended from sea to sea, voted Haynes to be their Governor, and appointed six councilors to assist him in framing laws and regulating the State. The same spirit of independence dictated their church discipline. They voted Mr. Hooker to be their minister, and six of their churchmembers to ordain him. Mr. Hooker accepted of their vote, or call, renounced his Episcopal ordination, and was ordained by the six lay churchmembers, over the church of the Independents in Hertford. Thus, Mr. Hooker, who was born in Leicestershire, educated at Cambridge, ordained by a bishop, silenced by a bishop in 1630, in England, and reordained by six laymen in America, became what he wished to bethe head of the Independents in the Dominion of Hertford, where he had the honor and pleasure of exercising over all who differed from him in opinion that violent spirit of persecution which he and his friends so clamorously decried as too intolerant to be endured in England. Some of the characteristic doctrines of this persecuting fanatic were of the following purport: That Christs Church was not universal, but a particular visible church, formed by general consent and covenant; that Christ had committed the power of binding and loosening to believers, without any distinction between clergy and laity; that ruling and preaching elders are duly ordained to their office by the election and the imposition of the hands of the people; that the tables and seals of the covenant, the offices and censures of Christs Church, the administrations of all public worship and ordinances, are in the ctus fidelium, or combination of godly, faithful men met in one congregation; that a diocesan, provincial, or national assembly, is incompatible with the nature of Christs Church, seeing all and every member of Christs Church are to meet every Lordsday, in one place, for the administration of the holy ordinances of God; that a multitude of free people may elect and ordain a king over them, although they were not, prior to that act, possessed of kingly power; for the people of Israel imposed their hands on Levites, when they themselves were not Levites (Numbers viii. 10); that Nature has given virtual power to a free people to set up any Christian form of government, both in church and state, which they see best for themselves in the land; but Christ gave the power of his keys to his Church, i. e., to his believing people, and not to Peter or to Paul as ministers, but as professed believers, in conjunction with the rest of true believers; that the Church hath not absolute power to choose whom it will; it hath ministerial power only to choose whom Christ hath chosen, i. e., such as He hath gifted and fitted for the work of the ministry; that neither popes, bishops, nor presbyters, are necessary to ordain ministers of Jesus Christ, because the power of the keys are given by Christ to his Church, i. e., the people in covenant with God; that as ordination is in the power of each church, no church hath power over another, but all stand in brotherly equality; that it is unlawful for any Church of Christ to put out of its hand that power which Christ hath given it into the hands of other churches; that no one church ought to send to ministers of other churches to ordain its ministers or to censure its offenders; that baptism does not make any one a member of Christs Church, because papists and other heretics are baptized; therefore, to be a member of Christs Church is to own the covenant of that particular church where God has placed such members; that seven persons may form a Church of Christ, but fifteen thousand cannot, because such a number cannot meet in one place, nor hear, nor partake, nor be edified together; that no one can partake of the Lords Supper till he be converted, and has manifested his faith and repentance before the church, etc., etc.14 The laws made by the Governor and Council of Hertford are, in general, much of the same stamp as those of the Newhaven legislators, of some of which an abstract will be given hereafter. The fanatics at Newhaven, in like manner with those of Hertford, voted themselves to be a Dominion independent, and chose Eaton for their Governor, and Davenport for their minister. The Governor and a committee had the power of making laws for the State, and the minister, assisted by deacons and elders, was to rule the church. The following is a specimen of the tenets established by Davenport in the latter: That Christ has conveyed all power to his people both in church and state; which power they are to exercise until Christ shall return on earth to reign one thousand years over his militant saintsthat all other kings, besides Christ and his elected people, are pestilent usurpers, and enemies of God and manthat all vicars, rectors, deans, priests, and bishops, are of the devil; are wolves, petty popes, and antichristian tyrants; that pastors and teachers of particular congregations are of Christ and must be chosen by his people, i. e., the elect and chosen from the foundation of the world, or else their entrance and ministry are unlawful; that all things of human invention in the worship of God, such as are in the MassBook and Commonprayer, are unsavory in the sight of God; that ecclesiastical censures ought to be exercised by the members of particular congregations among themselves; that the people should not suffer this supreme power to be wrested out of their hands until Christ shall begin his reign; that all good people ought to pray always that God would raze the old papal foundation of the episcopal government, together with the filthy ceremonies of that antichristian church; that every particular who neglects this duty, may justly fear that curse pronounced against Meroz (Judges v. 23): Curse ye Meroz, because they came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty enemies of God and his church; that every particular congregation is an absolute church, the members of it are to be all saints; those must enter into covenant among themselves, and without such covenant there can be no church; that it is a heinous sin to be present when prayers are read out of a book by a vicar or bishop; that subjects promise obedience to obtain help from the magistrates, and are discharged from their promise when the magistrates fail in their duty; that, without liberty from the prince or magistrate, the people may reform the church and state, and must not wait for the magistrate, etc., etc. This Dominion, this tyrant of tyrants, adopted the Bible for its code of civil laws, till others should be made more suitable to its circumstances. The provision was politic. The lawgivers soon discovered that the precepts in the Old and New Testaments were insufficient to support them in their arbitrary and bloody undertakings; they, therefore, gave themselves up to their own inventions in making others, wherein, in some instances, they betrayed an extreme degree of wanton cruelty and oppression, that even the religious fanatics of Boston, and the mad zealots of Hertford, put to the blush, christened them the Blue Laws, and the former held a day of thanksgiving, because God, in his good providence, had stationed Eaton and Davenport so far from them.15 The religious system established by Peters at Saybrook was well calculated to please the moderate Puritans and zealots of all denominations; but the fanatics of the MassachusetsBay, who hated every part of the Common Prayerbook worse than the Council of Trent, and the papal power exercised over heretics, were alarmed at the conduct of the halfreformed schismatics in that colony; and, thinking that their dear Salem might be endangered by such impure worshipers, consented, in the year 1636, to give Mr. Hooker and his associates liberty to emigrate to Hertford, notwithstanding the preceding year they had refused such liberty, seeing then no reason for Hookers seizing the territory of other people. But when the New England vine was supposed to be threatened by the Bible, Lords Prayer, and Ten Commandments, the pious people of MassachusetsBay permitted Hooker, in 1635, to remove into and govern Connecticut by their authority, and to impede and break up the worship of the Peterites at Saybrook. Hooker, ever faithful to his trust, excepting that, when he got to Hertford, he rejected the authority of his employers in the MassachusetsBay, set up a new Dominion, and persecuted the Peterites under his own banner, though he called it the banner of Jesus. But for his and Davenports tyrannical conduct, the colony of Saybrook would have lived in peace with the Indians, as they did till their artful and overbearing neighbors brought on a general war between them and the English, which ended with the death of Sassacus and the destruction of all his subjects. After that war great dissension arose among the conquerors. Fenwick was sensible, of a calm disposition, and very religious, yet not entirely void of ambition; he claimed the government of Connecticut, and insisted upon payment for such lands as were possessed by Hooker and Davenport and their associates; this, he said, was common justice, due to his constituents, the Lords Say and Brook. Hooker and Davenport, however, were not fond of his doctrine of justice, but made religion, liberty, and power, the great object of their concern, wherein they were supported by the people of MassachusetsBay, whose spirits were congenial with their own; hence no opportunity was lost of prejudicing Saybrook, and the troubles in the mothercountry furnished their enemies with many. One step they took, in particular, operated much to their disadvantage. The Massachusets colony, eager to act against Charles I., agreed with those of Hertford, Newhaven, Newhampshire, and RhodeIsland, to send agents to England, assuring the House of Commons of their readiness to assist against the king and bishops. The Saybrook settlers, though zealous against the bishops, were not much inclined to rebellion against the king, and therefore took no part in this transaction. As the royal cause lost ground in England, the apprehensions of this colony increased; and Fenwick, finding himself unsupported by the Lords Say and Brook, thought it prudent to dispose of his colonial property to Peters and his associates, and return to England. Confusion being established in England, moderation became an unpardonable sin in Saybrook, which both the neighboring colonies were ready to punish by assuming the jurisdiction there: mutual jealousy alone prevented it. At length, during Cromwells usurpation, the inhabitants, fearing the effects of his displeasure for not joining in the abovementioned address to the Commons of England, especially lest he should put them under the power of the furious Davenport, and at the same time foreseeing no prospect of the restoration, judged it advisable, by way of preferring the lesser to the greater evil, to form a sort of alliance and junction with the people of Hertford, where Hooker now lay numbered with the dead. The colony was not only hereby enabled to maintain its ground, but flourished greatly; and the minister, Thomas Peters, established a school in Saybrook, which his children had the satisfaction to see become a college, denominated Yale College, of which a particular account will be given in the course of this work. He was a churchman of the Puritanic order, zealous, learned, and of mild disposition, and frequently wrote to his brother Hugh at Salem to exercise more moderation, lest overmuch zeal should ruin him and the cause they were embarked in.16 At his death, which did not happen till after the Restoration of Charles II., he bequeathed his library to the school above mentioned. The religious institutions of Hooker at Hertford were not only binding on the Dutch, but even extended to the great Connecticote himself. The Sachem did not like his new neighbours; he refused to give or sell any land to them; but told them, that, as they came to trade, and to spread the Christian Religion among his subjects, which Mr. Hooker defined to consist only in peace, love, and justice, he had no objection to their building wigwams, planting corn, and hunting on his lands. The wisdom and steady temper of this great Sachem, and the vast number of subjects at his command, made Haynes and Hooker cautious in their conduct. Many people of MassachusetsBay, hearing that Hooker had made good terms with the Sachem, left their persecutors, and fled to the fertile banks of Connecticut, that they might help Hooker spread the Gospel among the poor benighted Heathen in the wilderness. The Reverend Mr. Huet, with his disciples, fixed at Windsor, eight miles north of Hertford; and the Reverend Mr. Smith, at Weathersfield, four miles south of it. In the space of eighteen months, the Dominion of Hertford contained sevenhundred white people, and seven independent churches. Having converted over to the Christian faith some few Indians, among whom was Joshua, an ambitious captain under the great Sachem Connecticote, Hooker, Huet, Smith, and others, hereby found means to spread the Gospel into every Indian town, and, to the eternal infamy of christian policy, those renowned, pious fathers of this new colony, with the Gospel, spread the smallpox. This distemper raged in every corner: it swept away the great Sachem Connecticote, and laid waste his ancient kingdom. Hereupon, Haynes and his assembly proclaimed Joshua Sachem; and such as did not acknowledge his sachemic power, were compelled to suffer death, or fly the Dominion. Thus in three years time, by the Gospel and fanatic policy, was destroyed Connecticote, the greatest king in NorthAmerica. This remarkable event was considered as the work of the Lord; and the savage nations were told that the like calamities would befal them, unless they embraced the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Joshua was grateful to the English who had made him Sachem, and gave them deeds of those lands which had constantly been refused by Connecticote. But Joshua had as little honour as virtue and loyalty: he supported himself many years by signing deeds, and gulled the English through their own imprudence in neglecting to make a law for recording them.These colonists, having driven out the Heathen, and got possession of a land which flowed with milk and honey, expelled the Dutch, as a dangerous set of heretics;and Hooker, after doing so much for this new Dominion, expected the homage from every Church which is only due to a Bishop. This homage, however, he could not obtain, because each Minister had pretensions not much inferior to his. Disputes arose about Doctrine and Discipline. Hooker taught that there were fortytwo kinds of Grace, though all of little value, except that of saving Grace. As to Discipline, he held, that, as he had received his ministerial ordination from the Laity, who were members in full communion, he considered those actual communicants as Christs Church here on earth, and consequently as holding the keys of discipline; and he maintained that the Minister had but a single voice, and was a subject of the Church. Other Ministers, who had received episcopal ordination, but had been silenced by their Bishops, judged themselves, notwithstanding, to be Ministers of Christ; and alleged that the installation of a Minister by prayer and imposition of hands of lay communicants, was no ordination, but a ceremony only of putting a Minister in possession of his Church, from which he might be dismissed by a majority of voters of the Members in full communion. And those Ministers taught for doctrine, that mankind were saved by Grace, and that the Gospel told us of but one Grace as necessary to Salvation; for that he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God, is born of God, and enjoys the Grace of God which brings Salvation. The majority of the People of course were on the side of Mr. Hooker, as his plan established their power over the Minister; and they soon determined by vote, according to their code of laws, in his favour. But the Ministers and minority were not convinced by this vote, and, to avoid an excommunication, formed themselves into separate bodies; nevertheless, they soon felt the thundering anathemas of Hooker, and the heated vengeance of the civil power. However, persecution, by her certain consequence, fixed the separatists in their schism, which continues to the present time.Hooker reigned twelve years highpriest over Hertford; and then died above sixty years of age, to the great joy of the separatists, but, in point of populousness, to the disadvantage of the colony of Saybrook, which was the little Zoar for Hookers heretics. Exact in tything mint and anise, the furies of Newhaven for once affected the weightier matters of justice. They had no title to the land: they applied to Quinnipiog, the Sachem, for a deed or grant of it. The Sachem refused to give the lands of his ancestors to strangers. The settlers had teeming inventions, and immediately voted themselves to be the Children of God, and that the wilderness in the utmost parts of the earth was given to them. This vote became a law forever after. It is true, Davenport endeavoured to christianize Quinnipiog, but in vain: however, he converted Sunksquaw, one of his subjects, by presents and great promises; and then Sunksquaw betrayed his master, and the settlers killed him. This assassination of Quinnipiog brought on a war between the English and Indians, which never ended by treaty of peace. The Indians, having only bows and arrows, were driven back into the woods; whilst the English, with their swords and guns, kept possession of the country. But, conscious of their want of title to it, they voted Sunksquaw to be Sachem, and that whoever disputed his authority should suffer death. Sunksquaw, in return, assigned to the English those lands of which they had made him Sachem. Lo! here is all the title the settlers of the Dominion of Newhaven ever obtained.The cruel and bloody persecutions under Eaton and Davenport in Newhaven soon gave rise to several little towns upon the seacoast. Emigrants from England arrived every year to settle in this Dominion; but few remained in Newhaven, on account of Eaton, Davenport, the Deacons, and Elders, who possessed all power there, and were determined to keep it. The newcomers, therefore, under pretence of spreading Christs kingdom, and shunning persecution, joined with the settlers at Stamford, Guilford, and Stratford, where, however, persecution domineered with as much fury as at Newhaven; for each town judged itself to be an independent Dominion; though, for fear of the Dutch and the Indians, they formed a political union, and swore to bear true allegiance to the capital Newhaven, whose authority was supreme. As all officers in every town were annually elected by the freemen, and as there were many candidates, some of whom must be unsuccessful, there was always room for complaints. The complainants formed schisms in the Church, which brought on persecution; and persecution drove the minority to settle new towns, in order to enjoy Liberty, Peace, and Power to persecute such as differed from them. Thus lived those ambitious people, under far worse persecutions from one another than they ever experienced or complained of in OldEngland; all which they endured with some degree of patience, the persecuted one year living in hopes that the next would enable them to retaliate on their persecutors. The laws made by this independent Dominion, and denominated BlueLaws by the neighbouring Colonies, were never suffered to be printed; but the following sketch of some of them will give a tolerable idea of the spirit which pervades the whole. The Governor and Magistrates, convened in general Assembly, are the supreme power under God of this independent Dominion. From the determination of the Assembly no appeal shall be made. The Governor is amenable to the voice of the people. The Governor shall have only a single vote in determining any question; except a casting vote, when the Assembly may be equally divided. The Assembly of the People shall not be dismissed by the Governor, but shall dismiss itself. Conspiracy against this Dominion shall be punished with death. Whoever says there is a power and jurisdiction above and over this Dominion, shall suffer death and loss of property. Whoever attempts to change or overturn this Dominion shall suffer death. The judges shall determine controversies without a jury. No one shall be a freeman, or give a vote, unless he be converted, and a member in full communion of one of the Churches allowed in this Dominion. No man shall hold any office, who is not found in the faith, and faithful to this Dominion; and whoever gives a vote to such a person, shall pay a fine of 1l. for a second offence, he shall be disfranchised. Each freeman shall swear by the blessed God to bear true allegiance to this Dominion, and that Jesus is the only King. No Quaker or dissenter from the established worship of this Dominion shall be allowed to give a vote for the election of Magistrates, or any officer. No food or lodging shall be afforded to a Quaker, Adamite, or other Heretic. If any person turns Quaker, he shall be banished, and not suffered to return but upon pain of death. No Priest shall abide in the Dominion: he shall be banished, and suffer death on his return. Priests may be seized by any one without a warrant. No one to cross a river, but with an authorized ferryman. No one shall run on the Sabbathday, or walk in his garden or elsewhere, except reverently to and from meeting. No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep house, cut hair, or shave, on the Sabbathday. No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath or fastingday. The Sabbath shall begin at sunset on Saturday. To pick an ear of corn growing in a neighbours garden, shall be deemed theft. A person accused of trespass in the night shall be judged guilty, unless he clear himself by his oath. When it appears that an accused has confederates, and he refuses to discover them, he may be racked. No one shall buy or sell lands without permission of the selectmen. A drunkard shall have a master appointed by the selectmen, who are to debar him from the liberty of buying and selling. Whoever publishes a lye to the prejudice of his neighbour, shall sit in the stocks, or be whipped fifteen stripes. No Minister shall keep a school. Every rateable person, who refuses to pay his proportion to the support of the Minister of the town or parish, shall be fined by the Court 2l. and 4l. every quarter, until he or she pay the rate to the Minister. Menstealers shall suffer death. Whoever wears cloaths trimmed with gold, silver, or bone lace, above two shillings by the yard, shall be presented by the grand jurors, and the selectmen shall tax the offender at 300l. estate. A debtor in prison, swearing he has no estate, shall be let out, and sold, to make satisfaction. Whoever sets a fire in the woods, and it burns a house, shall suffer death; and persons suspected of this crime shall be imprisoned, without benefit of bail. Whoever brings cards or dice into this Dominion shall pay a fine of 5l. No one shall read CommonPrayer, keep Christmas or Saintsdays, make minced pies, dance, play cards, or play on any instrument of music, except the drum, trumpet, and jewsharp.18 No Gospel Minister shall join people in marriage; the Magistrates only shall join in marriage, as they may do it with less scandal to Christs Church.19 When parents refuse their children convenient marriages, the Magistrates shall determine the point. The selectmen, on finding children ignorant, may take them away from their parents, and put them into better hands, at the expence of their parents. Fornication shall be punished by compelling marriage, or as the Court may think proper. Adultery shall be punished with death. A man that strikes his wife shall pay a fine of 10l.; a woman that strikes her husband shall be punished as the Court directs. A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband. No man shall court a maid in person, or by letter, without first obtaining consent of her parents: 5l. penalty for the first offence; 10l. for the second; and, for the third, imprisonment during the pleasure of the Court. Married persons must live together, or be imprisoned. Every male shall have his hair cut round according to a cap.20 Of such sort were the laws made by the people of Newhaven, previous to their incorporation with Saybrook and Hertford colonies by the charter. They consist of a vast multitude, and were very properly termed Blue Laws; i. e. bloody Laws; for they were all sanctified with excommunication, confiscation, fines, banishment, whippings, cutting off the ears, burning the tongue, and death. Europe at this day might well say the Religion of the first settlers at Newhaven was fanaticism turned mad; and did not similar laws still prevail over NewEngland as the common law of the country, I would have left them in silence along with Dr. Mathers Patres conscripti, and the renowned Saints of Mr. Neal, to sleep to the end of time. No one, but a partial and blind bigot, can pretend to say the projectors of them were men of Grace, Justice, and Liberty, when nothing but murders, plunders, and persecutions, mark their steps. The best apology that can be made for them is, (I write in reference to those times,) that human nature is everywhere the same; and that the mitred Lord and canting Puritan are both equally dangerous, or that both agree in the unchristian doctrine of persecution, and contend only which shall put it in practice. Mr. Neal says many call the first Colonizers in NewEngland weak men for separating from the Church of England, and suffering persecutions, rather than comply with indifferent ceremonies; and, after asserting that they were men of great learning and goodness, he appeals to the world to judge, which were weak, the Bishops or the Puritans? My answer is, that those Puritans were weak men in Old England, and strong in New England, where they outpopd the Pope, outkingd the King, and outbishopd the Bishops. Their murders and persecutions prove their strength lay in weakness, and their religion in ambition, wealth, and dominion. Notwithstanding the perpetual jealousy and discordance between the three colonies of Connecticut, (Saybrook claiming the whole under the Lords Say and Brook, Hertford under Jehovah and Conquest, and Newhaven under King Jesus and Conquest,) they judged it necessary, for their better security against the Dutch and Indians, to strengthen each others hands by forming a general confederacy with the Colonies of New Plymouth and the MassachusetsBay. A measure of this kind, which they formally entered into in 1643, proved of the most salutary consequence, in a war which many years after broke out between them and Philip, sachem of the Pokanoket Indians, and which, for some time, imminently endangered the Colonies, but at length terminated in the destruction of that noted warrior and his followers. The death of Cromwell in 1658 struck an awe throughout all NewEngland. Hertford and Newhaven appointed their days of fasting and prayer. Davenport prayed the Lord to take the NewEngland Vine under his immediate care, as he had removed by death the great Protector of the protestant liberty: nevertheless he lived to see the time when Charles II. obtained the possession of his Fathers crown and kingdom, in spite of all his prayers. However, in the midst of sorrows, they were comforted by the presence of many regicides and refugees, who fled from England not so much for religion as for liberty; among whom were Whalley, Goffe, and Dixwell,21 three of the judges and murderers of Charles I. Davenport and Leet the then Governor received them as Angels from Heaven, and blessed God that they had escaped out of the hands of Herod the son of Barabbas.22 Newhaven Dominion being thus suddenly filled with inhabitants, saw itself enabled to support its independence, and as usual despised Hertford and Saybrook, and withal paid no attention to the King and Parliament of England.The People of Massachusets, who were ever forward in promoting their own consequence, observing the temper and conduct of those of Newhaven, conceived an idea at once of exalting an individual of their own province, and of attaching Hertford and Saybrook to their interest for ever. They sent Mr. John Winthrop privately to Hertford, to promote a petition to Charles II. for a charter, as a security against the ambition of Newhaven.The Bostonians boasted of having had the honour of settling Hertford, which they therefore professed to consider in the light of a near and dear connection. The proposal was accepted by the few persons to whom it was communicated, but, in framing their petition, they found themselves deficient in their title to the lands. This obliged them to have recourse to a Junto at Saybrook, who claimed a title under Lords Say and Brook.A few purchases, or rather exchanges, of land now took place between the Juntos; after which a petition was drawn up, containing an artful description of the lands claimed, part of which they said they had purchased, and part they had conquered. They then as privately appointed Mr. Winthrop their agent to negociate the business in England, which he very willingly undertook. On his arrival here, he applied to the agents of MassachusetsBay, and with their assistance procured from the incaution of Charles II. as ample a charter as was ever given to a palatinate state; it covered not only Saybrook, Hertford, and Newhaven, but half NewYork, NewJersey, and Pensylvania, and a tract of land near 100 miles wide, and extending westward to the South sea, 1400 miles from Narraganset bay. This charter, which was obtained in 1662, well pleased the people of Hertford, because it coincided with their former vote, viz. that their dominion extended from sea to sea.23 Newhaven Dominion too late discovered the intrigues of her artful neighbours; and, after two years opposition, submitted to the charter purely out of fear lest some of her ministers and magistrates should suffer ignominious deaths for aiding in the murder of their King.24 To the great joy of the People of Boston and Saybrook, Mr. Winthrop was appointed, by the Charter, Governor of all Connecticut. Their joy, however, sprung from different motives: Saybrook hoped for effectual protection from the insults of Hertford and the persecutions of Newhaven; and Boston expected to govern the Governor. Mr. Winthrop settled at NewLondon, in the kingdom of Sassacus, or colony of Saybrook, where he purchased lands of the claimants under Lords Say and Brook. Wisdom and moderation guided Mr. Winthrop. He was annually elected Governor till his death, which happened in 1676. Whether it were owing to the discovery of any defect in the title of the People of Connecticut to the soil, or of any undue arts practised in obtaining their charter, or whether it must be considered as an instance of Charless fickle or arbitrary disposition, that Monarch, in the short space of two years after granting that charter, comprized half Connecticut in another grant to his brother, the Duke of York, of the territory between the rivers Connecticut and Delaware, called by the Dutch NewNetherlands. This step excited much discontent in Connecticut, especially when an actual defalcation of its territory was discovered to be in agitation, after Colonel Nichols had succeeded in an enterprise he was sent upon against the Dutch at NewYork. Commissioners were sent thither from Connecticut, the latter end of 1664, to defend the interests of the Colony; but, notwithstanding all the opposition they could make, they were constrained to yield up the whole of LongIsland and a strip of land on the east side of Hudsons river. This dismemberment is not easily to be justified; but, probably, finding it necessary to the performance of a promise he had made the Dutch of the enjoyment of their possessions, Nichols might think himself at liberty of insisting upon it, furnished as he was with almost regal powers as the Duke of Yorks deputy. In that capacity, he assumed the government of the conquered territory, but does not appear to have intermeddled further with that of Connecticut. With Colonel Nichols were associated three other gentlemen, in a commission, empowering them to enquire into the state of the NewEngland provinces, to hear and redress complaints, settle differences, and check abuses of power: but the ill humour and obstinacy of those of Connecticut and MassachusetsBay, in a great measure frustrated their endeavours. By authority of the Charter, the freemen chuse annually, in May, a Governor, a DeputyGovernor, a Secretary, a Treasurer, and 12 Assistants, and, twice a year, two Representatives from each town. These, being met, constitute the General Assembly, which has power to make laws, provided they are not repugnant to the laws of England, and enforce them without the consent of the King. The General Assembly meets in May and October without summoning. By it the colony has been divided into six counties, viz. Hertford, Newhaven, NewLondon, Fairfield, Windham, and Litchfield; and these subdivided into 73 townships and 300 parishes. Each town has two or more justices of peace, who hear and determine, without a jury, all causes under 2l. Each county has five judges, who try by a jury all causes above 2l. Five judges preside over the superior court of the province, who hold two sessions in each county every year. To this court are brought appeals from the county courts when the verdict exceeds 10l. appeals from the courts of probate, writs of error, petitions for divorce, c. The General Assembly is a court of chancery, where the error or rigour of the judgments of the superior courts are corrected. The General Assembly, and not the Governor, has the power of life and death. The courts of probate are managed by a justice of peace appointed by the General Assembly. Each county has its Sheriff, and each town its constables. By charter the Governor is Captaingeneral of the militia. Fourteen Colonels, 14 LieutenantColonels, and 14 Majors, are appointed by the General Assembly. The Captains and Subalterns are elected by the People, and commissioned by the Governor. The ecclesiastical courts in Connecticut are: 1. The Minister and his Communicants; 2. The Association, which is composed of every minister and deacon in the county; 3. The Consociation, which consists of four ministers and their deacons, chosen from each Association; and always meets in May, at Hertford, with the General Assembly. An appeal from the Consociation will lie before the General Assembly; but the clergy have always been against it, though with less success than they wished.The General Assembly declared Sober Dissenters to be the established religion of the province. The laws of the colony enacted by the authority of the Charter are decent in comparison with the Blue Laws. They make one thin volume in folio. Yet exceptions may justly be made to many of themequal liberty is not given to all partiestaxes are unfairly laidthe poor are oppressed.One law is intolerable, viz. When a trespass is committed in the night, the injured person may recover damages of anyone he shall think proper to accuse, unless the accused can prove an alibi, or will clear himself by an oath; which oath, nevertheless, it is at the option of the justice either to administer or refuse. Queen Ann repealed the cruel laws respecting Quakers, Ranters, and Adamites; but the General Assembly, notwithstanding, continued the same in their lawbook, maintaining that a law made in Connecticut could not be repealed by any authority but their own. It is a ruled case with them that no law or statute of England be in force in Connecticut till formally passed by the General Assembly and recorded by the Secretary.25 Above 30 years ago, a negro castrated his masters son, and was brought to trial for it before the Superior Court at Hertford. The Court could find no law to punish the negro. The lawyers quoted the English statute against maiming; the Court were of opinion that statute did not reach this colony, because it had not been passed in the General Assembly; and therefore were about to remand the negro to prison till the General Assembly should meet. But an expostfacto law was objected to as an infringement upon civil liberty. At length, however, the Court were released from their difficulty by having recourse to the vote of the first settlers at Newhaven, viz. That the Bible should be their law till they could make others more suitable to their circumstances. The court were of opinion that vote was in full force, as it had not been revoked; and thereupon tried the negro upon the Jewish law, viz. Eye for Eye, and Tooth for Tooth. He suffered accordingly. The idea fostered by the colony of independence on Great Britain was not, as might be imagined, destroyed by the royal charter, but, on the contrary, was renewed and invigorated by it. Indeed, the charter is as much in favour of Connecticut, and unfavourable to England, as if it had been drawn up in Boston or Newhaven. Had it been granted jointly by the King, Lords, and Commons, and not by the King solus, no one could dispute the independence of Connecticut on England, any more than they could that of Holland on Spain. The people at large did not discriminate between an act of the King solus and an act of the King, Lords, and Commons, conjointly; and, to prevent anyone from shewing the difference, the General Assembly made a law that whoever should attempt to destroy the constitution of this Colony as by charter established, should suffer death. The power of a British King was held up by them much higher than the constitution allowed. The King had authority, they said, to form palatinate states without consent of Parliament. Accustomed to doctrines of this tendency, the multitude concluded the General Assembly of Connecticut to be equal to the British Parliament. Notions of this kind did not prevail in Connecticut alone; MassachusetsBay still more abounded with them, and Rhode Island was not uninfected. What was the consequence? Complaints against those governments poured into the British court. A reformation, therefore, became indispensable in NewEngland, and was begun by a disfranchisement of the Massachusets province. The death of Charles II. put a temporary stop to proceedings against the other colonies; but James II. soon found it expedient to renew them. In July, 1685, the following instances of maladministration were formally exhibited against the Governor and Company of Connecticut, viz., They have made laws contrary to the laws of England:they impose fines upon the inhabitants, and convert them to their own use:they enforce an oath of fidelity upon the inhabitants without administering the oath of supremacy and allegiance, as in their charter is directed:they deny to the inhabitants the exercise of the religion of the church of England, arbitrarily fining those who refuse to come to their congregational Assemblies:his Majestys subjects inhabiting there cannot obtain justice in the courts of that colony:they discourage and exclude the government all gentlemen of known loyalty, and keep it in the hands of the independent party in the colony. (NewEng. Ent. vol. ii. p. 241.) In consequence of this impeachment, James II. ordered a Quo Warranto to be issued against the Charter of Connecticut. The People perceived the King was in earnest; and their alarm manifested itself in humble sollicitations for favour: but, it being thought adviseable, on several accounts, particularly the extensive progress the French were making in Canada, to appoint one general Governor over NewEngland, the submissive applications of the Connecticut colonists could no further be regarded than in allowing them their choice, whether to be annexed to NewYork or the Massachusets. They preferred the latter; and, accordingly, Sir Edmund Andros having been appointed Captaingeneral over all NewEngland, the charter of Connecticut was surrendered to him. It is very remarkable that Mr. Neal, Hutchinson, and other historians of NewEngland, have artfully passed over in silence this transaction of the surrender of Connecticut Charter to Sir Edmund Andros, the General Governor over NewEngland. They have represented the magistrates of Connecticut as not having resigned their charter, but by an erroneous construction put on their humble supplication to James II. by the Court of London; whereas the fact is, they resigned it, in propria forma, into the hands of Sir Edmund Andros, at Hertford, in October, 1687, and were annexed to the MassachusetsBay colony, in preference to NewYork, according to royal promise and their own petition.26 But the very night of the surrender of it, Samuel Wadsworth, of Hertford, with the assistance of a mob, violently broke into the apartments of Sir Edmund, regained, carried off, and hid the charter in the hollow of an elm; and, in 1689, news arriving of an insurrection and overthrow of Andros at Boston, Robert Treat, who had been elected in 1687, was declared by the mob still to be Governor of Connecticut. He daringly summoned his old Assembly, who, being convened, voted the charter to be valid in law, and that it could not be vacated by any power without the consent of the GeneralAssembly27 They then voted that Samuel Wadsworth should bring forth the charter; which he did in a solemn procession, attended by the Highsheriff, and delivered it to the Governor. The General Assembly voted their thanks to Wadsworth, and twenty shillings as a reward for stealing and hiding their charter in the elm. Thus Connecticut started from a dependent county into an independent province, in defiance of the authority that had lately been paid such humble submission. None should be surprized to find the People shewing more deference to Abimeleck, King of Mohegin, than to George, King of England; since a vote of men, whose legislative and even corporate capacity had been annihilated, has prevailed, for more than eighty years, over a just exertion of royal prerogative.28 Nevertheless, this unconstitutional Assembly, whose authority under an assumed charter has been tacitly acknowledged by the British Parliament, have not at all times been unchecked by the Corporation of Yale College. That College, by a charter received from this selferected Government, was enabled to give Bachelors and Masters degrees; but the Corporation have presumed to give Doctors degrees. When the General Assembly accused them of usurping a privilege not conferred by their charter, they retorted that to usurp upon a charter was not so bad as to usurp a vacated charter. The General Assembly were obliged to be content with this answer, as it contained much truth, and came from the clergy, whose ambition and power are not to be trifled with. Whatever might be the reason of the English Governments winking at the contempt shewn to their authority by the people of Connecticut, it certainly added to their ingratitude and bias to usurpation. Having been in possession of that country onehundred and forty years, the General Assembly, though unsupported either by law or justice, resolved to take up and settle their lands west not only of Hudson but Susquehanna river, and extending to the SouthSea. In pursuance of this resolution, they with modesty passed over NewYork, and the Jerseys, because they are possessed by Mynheers and fighting christians, and seized on Pensylvania, claimed by Quakers, who fight not for either wife or daughter. They filled up their fathers iniquities, by murdering the Quakers and Indians, and taking possession of their lands; and no doubt, in another century, they will produce deeds of sale from Sunksquaw, Uncas, or some other supposititious Sachem. This is a striking instance of the use I have said the Colony sometimes make of their charter, to countenance and support their adventurous spirit of enterprize. They plead that their charter bounds them on the west by the SouthSea; but they seem to have forgotten that their charter was surreptitiously obtained; and that the clause on which they dwell is rendered nugatory, by the petitioners having described their lands as lying upon Connecticut river, and obtained partly by purchase and partly by conquest. Now, it being a fact beyond all controversy, that they then had not conquered, nor even pretended to have purchased, any lands west of HudsonsRiver, it is evident that their westernmost boundary never did or ought to extend further than to that river. Not that Mr. Pen has any just title to those lands on Susquehanna river which are the bone of contention, and which lie north of his patent: they belong to the assigns of the Plymouth Company, or to the Crown of England. Republicanism, schisms, and persecutions, have ever prevailed in this Colony.The religion of Sober Dissenters having been established by the General Assembly, each sect claimed the establishment in its favour. The true Independents denied that the Assembly had any further power over Christs Church than to protect it. Few Magistrates of any religion are willing to yield their authority to Ecclesiastics; and few disciples of Luther or Calvin are willing to obey either civil or spiritual masters. In a Colony where the people are thus disposed, dominion will be religion, and faction conscience. Hence arose contentions between the Assembly and Independents; and both parties having been brought up under Cromwell, their battles were well fought. The independent Ministers published, from their pulpits, that the Assembly played off one sect against another; and that Civilians were equal enemies to all parties, and acted more for their own interest than the glory of God. Those spiritual warriors, by their Associations, fasting, and prayers, voted themselves the Sober Dissenters, and got the better of the General Assembly. Indeed, none disputed their vote with impunity. Whenever a Governor manifested an inclination to govern Christs Ministers, Christs Ministers were sure to instruct the freemen not to relect him. The Magistrates declared that they had rather be under LordsBishops than LordsAssociations. A Governor was appointed, who determined to reduce Christs Ministers under the Civil Power; and, accordingly, the Assembly sent their Sheriff to bring before them certain leading men among the Ministers, of whom they banished some, silenced others, and fined many, for preaching sedition. The Ministers told the Assembly that curst cows had short horns; and that they were Priests for ever after the order of Melchisedec. However, like good christians, they submitted to the sentence of the Assembly; went home, fasted, and prayed, until the Lord pointed out a perfect cure for all their sufferings. On the day of election, they told the freemen that the Lords cause required a man of Grace to stand at the head of the Colony, and with sure confidence recommended the Moderator of the Association to be their Governor; and the Moderator was chosen. This event greatly inflamed the laymagistrates, who were further mortified to see Ministers among the Representatives; whereupon they cried out, This is a presbyterian popedom. Now Magistrates joined with other Churches which they had long persecuted; and the Connecticut Vine was rent more and more every day. The Ministers kept the power, but not always the office, of the Governor, whilst the weaker party paid the cost. One party was called Old Light, the other New Light: both aimed at power under pretence of religion; whichever got the power, the other was persecuted. By this happy quarrel, the various sectarians were freed from their persecutions; because each contending party courted their votes and interest, to help to pull down its adversary. This has been the religiouspolitical free system and practice of Connecticut since 1662. In speaking of the religious phrenzies and persecutions in Connecticut under the sanction of the charter, I must notice the words of an eminent Quaker, who, as a blasphemer, had been whipped, branded, burnt in the tongue, set on the gallows, banished, and, upon return, sentenced to be hanged. Dost thee not think, said he to his Judges, that the Jews, who crucified the Saviour of the World, had a Charter? Many have been the disputes between Connecticut and the neighbouring Colonies concerning their several boundaries, and much blood has been spilt on those occasions. On the north and east, where lie the Massachusets and RhodeIsland, Connecticut has, in some degree, been the gainer; but has lost considerably on the west and south, to the engendering violent animosity against the loyal NewYorkers, to whom it will probably prove fatal in the end. The detail is briefly as follows: The Dutch settlers on NewYork Island, Hudsons river, and the west end of Long Island, being subdued by Colonel Nichols in September, 1664, the royal Commissioners, after hearing the Deputies from Connecticut in support of the charter granted to that province against the Duke of Yorks patent, ordered, in December following, that LongIsland should be annexed to the government of NewYork, and that the West boundary of Connecticut should be a line drawn from the mouth of Mamaroneck river northnorthwest to the line of the Massachusets. This settlement, although it infringed their charter, was peaceably acquiesced in by the people of Connecticut; and not complained of by those of NewYork till 1683, when they set up a claim founded upon a Dutch grant, said to be made in 1621, of all the lands from Cape Cod to Cape Henlopen. In furtherance of their pretensions, they had recourse to invasion and slander. Of the latter Mr. Smith has given a specimen in his History of NewYork, where he says that the agreement in 1664 was founded in ignorance and fraud; because, forsooth, a northnorthwest line from Mamaroneck would soon intersect Hudsons river! Could any one of commonsense suppose the Dutch on the banks of Hudsons river, who no doubt were consulted upon the occasion, less acquainted with the course of it, than persons residing on the banks of the Connecticut? Extraordinarily absurd as such an insinuation might be, the people of Connecticut were aware of its probable weight with the Duke of York, whose patent grasped half their country; and therefore, knowing by whom a contest must be decided, they consented to give up twenty miles of their land east of Hudsons river, hoping that would content a company of timeserving Jacobites and artful Dutchmen. But neither were they nor their Patron satisfied; and the agreement was suspended till 1700, when it was confirmed by William III. About twenty years afterwards, however, the NewYorkers thought the times favourable to further encroachments; and at length, in 1731, they gained 60,000 acres more, called the Oblong, from Connecticut, purely because they had Dutch consciences, and for once reported in England what was true, that the NewEngland colonists hated Kings, whether natives or foreigners. Mr. Smith, indeed, p. 238, says, referring to Douglass29 Plan of the British Dominions of NewEngland in support of his assertion, that Connecticut ceeded these 60,000 acres to NewYork, as an equivalent for lands near the Sound surrendered to Connecticut, by NewYork. Mr. Smith, and all the NewYork cabal, know, that there never were any lands in the possession of the NewYorkers surrendered to Connecticut: on the contrary, Connecticut was forced, by the partiality of sovereigns, to give up, not only LongIsland and the abovementioned twenty miles east of Hudsons river, but also the Oblong, without any equivalent. How NewYork could surrender lands and tenements which they never had any right to or possession of, is only to be explained thus: whereas the people of NewYork did not extend their eastern boundary to Connecticut river, they therefore surrendered to Connecticut what they never had; which is like a highwaymans saying to a Gentleman, Give me ten guineas, and I will surrender to you your watch in your pocket. Thus by degrees has Connecticut lost a tract of land sixty miles in length and above twenty in breadth, together with the whole of LongIsland; and this in the first place by a stretch of royal prerogative, and afterwards by the chicanery of their competitors, who have broken through all agreements as often as a temporising conduct seemed to promise them success. Whenever, therefore, a favourable opportunity presents itself, it is probable, that Messrs. Smith and Livingston, and other pateroons in NewYork, will find the last determination also to have been founded in ignorance and fraud, and will be pushing their claim to all the lands west of Connecticut river; but the opportunity must be favourable indeed, that allows them to encroach one foot farther with impunity. Another stroke the people of Connecticut received about 1753 has sorely galled them ever since, and contributed not a little to their thirst of revenge. The Governor of NewYork was then appointed CaptainGeneral and Commander in Chief of the militia, and all the forces by sea and land, within the Colony of Connecticut, and of all the forts and places of strength within the same. This violation of the Charter of Connecticut by George II. was very extraordinary, as the reins of Government were then in the hands of protestant dissenters, whose supposed veneration for the House of Hanover operated so powerfully, that the American protestant dissenting ministers were allowed to be installed teachers, and to hold synods, without taking the oath of allegiance to the English King, at the same time that papists, and even members of the Church of England, were not excused that obligation. The aggravating appointment above mentioned added no celebrity to the name of George II. in NewEngland; nor, however excusable it may appear in the eyes of those who with me question the colonial pretensions of the people of Connecticut, was it, upon the ground they have been allowed to stand by the English government, justifiable in point of right, nor yet in point of policy, were the true character of the NewYorkers fully known. This argument may be used on more occasions than the present. But Connecticut hath not been the only sufferer from the restless ambition of NewYork. Twenty miles depth of land belonging to the Massachusets and Newhampshire provinces, which formerly claimed to Hudsons river, were cut off by the line that deprived Connecticut of the same proportion of its western territory. With this acquisition, surely, the NewYorkers might have been content; but very lately their wisdom, if not their fraud, has prevailed over the ignorance of Newhampshire; which has sustained another amputation of its territory, eighty miles in width and two hundred miles in length; viz. all the land between the abovementioned twentymile line and Connecticut river. The particulars of this transaction are interesting. Benning Wentworth, Esq. Governor of Newhampshire, by order of his present Majesty, divided, in 1762, the vast tract of land just mentioned into about 360 townships, six miles square each. These townships he granted to proprietors belonging to the four provinces of NewEngland, one township to sixty proprietors; and took his fees for the same, according to royal appointment. Every township was, in twelve years time, to have sixty families residing in it. In 1769 there were settled on this piece of land 30,000 souls, at a very great expence; and many townships contained 100 families. The NewYorkers found means to deceive the King, and obtained a decree that the East boundary of NewYork, after passing Connecticut and MassachusetsBay, should be Connecticut river.30 This decree annexed to the jurisdiction of NewYork the said 360 townships; but was quietly submitted to by the proprietors, since it was his Majestys will to put them under the jurisdiction of NewYork, tho they found themselves 150 miles farther from their new capital NewYork, than they were from Portsmouth, their old one. Had the NewYorkers rested satisfied with the jurisdiction, which alone the King had given them, they might have enjoyed their acquisition in peace; and NewEngland would have thought they had possessed some justice, though destitute of religious zeal. But the Governor and General Assembly of NewYork, finding their interest in OldEngland stronger than the interest of the NewEnglanders, determined at once, that, as the King had given them jurisdiction over those 360 townships, he had also given them the lands in fee simple. Sir Henry More, the Governor, therefore, in 1767, began the laudable work of regranting those townships to such people as lived in NewYork, and were willing to pay him 600l. York currency for his valuable name to each patent. It is remarkable that Sir Harry made every lawyer in the whole province a patentee; but totally forgot the four public lots, viz. that for the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, those for the church, the first clergyman, and school in each township, which had been reserved in Governor Wentworths grants. Death stopped his career; but Colden, the LieutenantGovernor, filled up the measure of his iniquity, by granting all the rest on the same conditions. Sir Henry More had taken care to grant to his dear self one township, settled with above 80 families, before he died. Colden did the same for himself. The virtuous William Smith, Esq. of New York, had a township also; and Sir Henry More left him his executor to drive off the NewEngland settlers. This, however, he attempted in vain. The polite NewYorkers, having the jurisdiction, betook themselves to law, to get possession of the lands in question, which they called their own; and sent the posse of Albany to eject the possessors; but this mighty power was answered by Ethan Allen, and the old proprietors under Governor Wentworth, who was a Kings Governor as well as Sir Henry More:the Mynheers of Albany were glad to have liberty to return home alive.See here the origin of Ethan Allen!of the Verdmonts, and the Robbers of the Green Mountains; a compliment paid by the NewYorkers to the settlers under Governor Wentworth;who, on that amiable gentlemans death, had no friend of note left in England, and were therefore under the necessity of defending themselves, or becoming tenants to a set of people who neither feared God nor honoured the King, but when they got something by it.The NewYorkers had the grace, after this, to outlaw Ethan Allen, which rendered him of consequence in NewEngland; and it would not surprise me to hear that NewYork, Albany, and all that the Dutchmen possess in houses east of Hudsons River, were consumed by fire, and the inhabitants sent to Heaven, in the style of Dr. Mather, by the way of Amsterdam. I must do the NewEnglanders the justice to say, that, though they esteem not highly Kings or Lords, yet they never complained against his Majesty for what was done respecting Verdmont; on the contrary, they ever said the King would reverse the obnoxious decree, whenever he should be acquainted with the truth of the case, which the NewYorkers artfully concealed from his knowledge. There are in the four NewEngland provinces near 800,000 souls, and very few unconnected with the settlements on Verdmont; the property of which was duly vested in them by Wentworth, the Kings Governor, whose predecessors and himself had jurisdiction over it also for 106 years. They say, what is very legal and just, that his Majesty had a right to annex Verdmont to the government of NewYork, but could not give the fee of the land, because he had before given it to the NewEnglanders. It appears very unlikely that those hardy sons of Oliver will ever give up Verdmont to the NewYorkers by the order of Sir Henry More, or any other Governor, till compelled by the point of the sword. The Mynheers have more to fear than the NewEnglanders, who will never yield to Dutch virtue. Van Tromp was brave; Oliver was brave and successful too. Mather, Neal, and Hutchinson, represent religion to have been the cause of the first settlement of NewEngland; and the love of gold as the stimulus of the Spaniards in settling their colonies in the southern parts of America; but, if we should credit the Spanish historians, we must believe that their countrymen were as much influenced by religion in their colonial pursuits as were our own. However, in general, it may be said, that the conduct of both parties towards the aborigines discovered no principles but what were disgraceful to human nature. Murder, plunder, and outrage, were the means made use of to convert the benighted savages of the wilderness to the system of Him who went about doing good. If we may depend on Abb Nicolle, the Spaniards killed of the Aytis, or the savage nations, in the Island of Hispaniola, 3,000,000 in seventeen years; 600,000 in Porto Rico, and twenty times these numbers on the continent of SouthAmerica, in order to propagate the Gospel in a savage and howling wilderness! The English colonists have been as industrious in spreading the Gospel in the howling wilderness of NorthAmerica. Upwards of 180,000 Indians, at least, have been slaughtered in MassachusetsBay and Connecticut,31 to make way for the protestant religion; and, upon a moderate computation for the rest of the colonies, on the continent and WestIndia Islands, I think one may venture to assert, that nearly 2,000,000 savages have been dismissed from an unpleasant world to the world of spirits, for the honour of the protestant religion and English liberty. Nevertheless, having travelled over most parts of British America, I am able to declare, with great sincerity, that this mode of converting the native Indians is godlike in comparison with that adopted by the Africans. These miserable people are first kidnapped, and then put under saws, harrows, and axes of iron, and forced through the brickkiln to Molock. Nearly half a million of them are doomed to hug their misery in ignorance, nakedness, and hunger, among their masters upper servants in Georgia, the Carolinas, Virginia, and Maryland. The number of these wretches upon the Continent and Islands is scarce credible; about 100,000 in Jamaica alone; all toiling for the tyrants pleasure; none seeking other happiness, than to be screened from the torture rendered necessary by that curious American maxim, that men must be willing to die before they are fit for the Kingdom of Heaven. However, what Mussleman, African, or American, would not prefer the state of a christian master, who dreads death above all things, to the state of those christian converts? Christianity has been cursed, through the insincerity of its professors; even savages despise its precepts, because they have no influence on christians themselves. Whatever religious pretensions the Spanish, French, or English may plead for depopulating and repeopling America, it is pretty clear that the desire of gold and dominion was no impotent instigation with them to seek the western continent. The British leaders in the scheme of emigration had felt the humiliating effects of the feudal system; particularly the partial distributions of fortunes and honour among children of the same venter in the Mother Country. They had seen that this inequality produced insolence and oppression, which awakened the sentiments of independence and liberty, the instinct of every man. Nature then kindled war against the oppressors, and the oppressors appealed to prescription. The event was, infelicity began her reign. Both parties invoked religion, but prostrated themselves before the insidious shrine of Superstition, the life of civil government, and the sinews of war; that expiates crimes by prayers, uses ceremonies for good works, esteems devotion more than virtue, supports religion without probity, values honesty less than honour, generates happiness without morality, and is a glorious helmet to the ambitious. They enlisted vassals with her bounty to fight, burn, and destroy one another, for the sake of religion. Behold the sequel! The vassals seemed more to themselves than the Egyptian masters and laws, both in the elder and younger brothers; yet, after all, Superstition told them they enjoyed liberty and the rights of human nature. Happy deception! The Spartan Magnates, tributary to the Turks, are jealous of their liberties; while the American Cansey, near Lake Superior, enjoy liberty complete without jealousy. Among the latter, the conscious independence of each individual warms his thoughts and guides his actions. He enters the sachemic dome with the same simple freedom as he enters the wigwam of his brother: neither dazzled at the splendour nor awed by the power of the possessor. Here is liberty in perfection! What christian would wish to travel 4000 miles to rob an unoffending savage of what he holds by the law of Nature? That is not the God or Dominion that any christian ever sought for. The first settlers of America had views very different from those of making it a christian country; their grand aim was to get free from the insolence of their elder brethren, and to aggrandise themselves in a new world at the expense of the life, liberty, and property of the savages. Had the invaders of NewEngland sown the seeds of christian benevolence, even after they had eradicated the savages and savage virtues, the world would not have reproached them for cherishing that allgrasping spirit to themselves, which in others had driven them from their parent country. But the feudal system, which they considered an abominable vice in England, became a shining virtue on the other side of the Atlantic, and would have prevailed there, had the people been as blind and tame in worldly as they were in spiritual concerns. But they had too long heard their leaders declaim against the monopoly of lands and titles, not to discover that they themselves were men, and entitled to the rights of that race of beings; and they proceeded upon the same maxims which they found also among the Indians, viz. that mankind are by nature upon an equality in point of rank and possession; that it is incompatible with freedom for any particular descriptions of men systematically to monopolise honours and property, to the exclusion of the rest; that it was a part despicable and unworthy of one freeman to stoop to the will and caprice of another on account of his wealth and titles, accruing not from his own, but from the heroism and virtue of his ancestors, c., c. The vox populi established these maxims in NewEngland; and whoever did not, at least outwardly, conform to them, were not chosen into office. Nay, though not objectionable on that score, men very seldom met with reappointments, lest they should claim them by hereditary right. Thus, the levelling principle prevailing, equals were respected and superiors derided. Europeans, whose manners were haughty to inferiors and fawning to superiors, were neither loved nor esteemed. Hence an English traveller through Connecticut meets with supercilious treatment at taverns, as being too much addicted to the use of the imperative mood when speaking to the landlord. The answer is, Command your own servants, and not me. The traveller is not obeyed, which provokes him to some expressions, that are not legal in the Colony, about the impertinence of the landlord, who being commonly a Justice of the Peace, the delinquent is immediately ordered into custody, fined, and put in the stocks. However, after paying costs, and promising to behave well in future, he passes on with more attention to his unruly member than to his pleasures. Nevertheless, if a traveller softens his tone, and avoids the imperative mood, he will find every civility from those very people, whose natural temper are full of antipathy against all who affect superiority over them. This principle is, by long custom, blended with the religious doctrines of the province; and the people believe those to be heretics and Americans who assent not to their supremacy. Hence they consider the kingly Governors as the shorthorns of Antichrist, and every Colony in a state of persecution which cannot choose its own Governor and magistrates. Their aversion to NewYork is inconceiveably great upon this account, as well as others I have mentioned. Their jealousies and fears of coming under its jurisdiction make them heroes in the cause of liberty, and great inquisitors into the characters and conduct of kingly Governors. They have selected Mr. Tryon as the only English Governor who has acted with justice and generosity in respect to the rights, liberties, and feelings of mankind, while, they say, avarice, plunder, and oppression have marked the footsteps of all the rest. This character Mr. Tryon possessed, even after he had subdued the regulators in NorthCarolina, and was appointed Governor of NewYork. Some persons assert, indeed, that he secured the good will of Connecticut by recommending, in England, the Livingstons, Schuylers, and Smiths, as the best subjects in NewYork. However, Mr. Tryon was undoubtedly entitled to good report; he was humane and polite; to him the injured had access without a fee; he would hear the poor mans complaint, though it wanted the aid of a polished lawyer. Besides, Mr. Tryon did not think it beneath him to speak to a peasant in the street, or to stop his coach to give the people an opportunity to let him pass. His object was not to make his fortune, nor did he neglect the interests of the people. He embellished not his language with oaths and curses, nor spent the Sabbath at taverns. Tis true, Mr. Tryon went not to meeting; but he was forgiven this offence because he went to church, the people of NewEngland having so much candour as to believe a man may be a good sort of man if he goes to church, and is exemplary in his words and deeds. I have not the honour of being known to Mr. Tryon, but from what I know of him, I must say, without meaning to offend any other, that he was the best Governor, and the most pleasing gentleman, that I ever saw in a civil capacity in America; and that I cannot name any Briton so well calculated to govern in Connecticut, with ease and safety to himself, as he is. One reason for this assertion is, that Mr. Tryon has a punctilious regard for his word: a quality which, though treachery is the staple commodity of the four NewEngland provinces, the people greatly admire in a Governor, and which, they say, they have seldom found in royal Governors in America. Of the share Connecticut has taken, in common with her sister colonies, in cooperating with the Mother Country against her natural enemies, it is superfluous to say anything here, that being already sufficiently known. I shall therefore proceed to a description of the country, its towns, productions, c. together with the manners, customs, commerce, c. of the inhabitants, interspersing such historical and biographical anecdotes as may occur to me in the relation, and having a tendency to elucidate matter of fact or characterize the people. The dimensions of Connecticut, according to the present allowed extent, are from the Sound on the south to the Massachusets line on the north, about sixty miles; and from Biram River and NewYork line, on the west, to NarragansetBay, RhodeIsland, and MassachusetsBay on the east, upon an average about one hundred miles. It is computed to contain 5,000,000 acres. Many creeks and inlets, bays and rivers, intersect the coast. Three of the last, dividing the colony into as many parts, I shall particularly notice. They all run from north to south. The eastern river is called the Thames, as far as it is navigable, which is only to Norwich, fourteen miles from its mouth. Then dividing, the greatest branch, called Quinnibaug, rolls rapidly from its source 100 miles distant through many towns and villages, to their great pleasantness and profit. On it are many mills and ironworks, and in it various kinds of fish, but no salmon, for want of proper places to nourish their spawn. The middle river is named Connecticut, after the great Sachem to whom that part of the province through which it runs belonged. This vast river is five hundred miles long, and four miles wide at its mouth; its channel, or inner banks, in general, half a mile wide. It takes its rise from the White Hills, in the north of NewEngland, where also springs the river Kennebec. About five hundred rivulets, which issue from lakes, ponds, and drowned lands, fall into it; many of them are larger than the Thames at London. In March, when the rains and sun melt the snow and ice, each stream is overcharged, and kindly hastens to this great river, to overflow, fertilize, and preserve its trembling meadows. They lift enormous cakes of ice, bursting from their frozen beds, with threatening intentions of ploughing up the frighted earth, and carry them rapidly down the falls, where they are dashed in pieces and rise in mist. Except at these falls, of which there are five the first sixty miles from its mouth, the river is navigable throughout. In its northern part are three great bendings, called Cohosses, about one hundred miles asunder. Two hundred miles from the Sound is a narrow of five yards only, formed by two shelving mountains of solid rock, whose tops intercept the clouds. Through this chasm are compelled to pass all the waters which, in the time of the floods, bury the northern country. At the upper Cohos the river spreads twentyfour miles wide. For five or six weeks ships of war might sail over the lands that afterward produce the greatest crops of hay and grain in all America. People who can bear the sight, the groans, the tremblings, and surly motion of water, trees, and ice, through this awful passage, view with astonishment one of the greatest phenomenons in Nature. Here, water consolidated without frost, by pressure, by swiftness, between the pinching, sturdy rocks, to such a degree of induration that an iron crow cannot be forced into it; here, iron, lead, and cork, have one common weight; here, steady as time, and harder than marble, the stream passes irresistible, if not swift as lightning; the electric fire rends trees in pieces with no greater ease than does this mighty water. The passage is about four hundred yards in length, and of a zigzag form, with obtuse corners.32 At high water are carried through this straight masts and other timber with incredible swiftness, and sometimes with safety; but when the water is too low, the masts, timber, and trees, strike on one side or the other, and, though of the largest size, are rent, in one moment, into shivers, and splintered like a broom, to the amazement of spectators. The meadows, for many miles below, are covered with immense quantities of wood thus torn in pieces, which compel the hardiest travellers to reflect, how feeble is man, and how great that Almighty who formed the lightnings, thunders, and the irresistible power and strength of waters! No living creature was ever known to pass through this narrow, except an Indian woman, who was, in a canoe, attempting to cross the river above it, but carelessly suffered herself to fall within the power of the current. Perceiving her danger, she took a bottle of rum she had with her, and drank the whole of it; then lay down in her canoe, to meet her destiny. She marvellously went through safely, and was taken out of the canoe some miles below, quite intoxicated, by some Englishmen. Being asked how she could be so daringly imprudent as to drink such a quantity of rum with the prospect of instant death before her, the squaw, as well as her condition would let her, replied, Yes, it was too much rum for once, to be sure; but I was not willing to lose a drop of it: so I drank it, and you see I have saved all. Some persons assert that salmon have been caught above this narrow, while others deny it. Many have observed salmon attempt to pass in the time of floods, which certainly is the best and likeliest time, as, from the height of the water, and the shelving of the rocks, the passage is then broader; but they were always thrown back, and generally killed. It is not to be supposed that any fish could pass with the stream alive. Above this narrow there is plenty of fish both in summer and winter, which belong to the lakes or ponds that communicate with the river: below it are the greatest abundance and variety caught or known in NorthAmerica. No salmon are found in any river to the westward of this. Except the Mississippi and St. Lawrence, the Connecticut is the largest river belonging to the English plantations in the New World. On each shore of it are two great roads leading from the mouth 200 miles up the country, lined on both sides with the bestbuilt houses in America, if not in the world. It is computed, that the country on each bank of this river, to a depth of six miles, and a length of 300, is sufficient for the maintenance of an army of 100,000 men. In short, the neighbouring spacious and fertile meadow, arable, and other lands, combined with this noble river, are at once the beauty and main support of all NewEngland. The western river is navigable and called Stratford only for ten miles, where Derby stands; and then takes the name of Osootonoc. It is 50 miles west from Connecticut River, and half a mile wide. It rises in the Verdmonts, above 200 miles from the sea, and travels 300 miles through many pleasant towns and villages. The adjacent meadows are narrow, and the country in general very hilly. With some expence it might be made navigable above 100 miles. It furnishes fish of various kinds, and serves many mills and ironworks. Two principal bays, named Sassacus or NewLondon, and Quinnipiog or Newhaven, run five or six miles into the country, and are met by rivers which formerly bore the Sachems names. It has already been observed, that Connecticut was settled under three distinct independent Governors; and that each Dominion, since their union in 1664, has been divided into two counties. The KINGDOM OF SASSACUS, Sachem of the Pequods, a warlike nation, forms the counties of NewLondon and Windham, which contain about 10,000 houses, and 60,000 inhabitants. Sassacus was brave by nature. The sound of his coming would subdue nations, at the same time that Justice would unbend his bow, and Honour calm the thunder of his tongue. Dr. Mather, Mr. Neal, and others, have endeavoured to blast his fame by proving him to have been the aggressor in the bloody wars which ended in his ruin. They have instanced the murder of Captain Stone and others, to justify this war, but carefully concealed the assassination of Quinnipiog, the treachery of Mr. Elliot (the MassachusetsBay Apostle of the Indians), and the infamous villainy of Hooker, who spread death upon the leaves of his Bible, and struck Connecticote mad with disease. They also conceal another important truth, that the English had taken possession of lands belonging to Sassacus, without purchase or his consent. Besides, Sassacus had too much sagacity to let christian spies, under the appellation of gospel missionaries, pass through his country. He had seen the consequences of admitting such ministers of christianity from Boston, Hertford, c. among his neighbouring nations, and generously warned them to keep their gospel of peace from his dominions. The invaders of this howling wilderness, finding their savage love detected, and that the Pequods were not likely to fall a sacrifice to their hypocrisy, proclaimed open war with sword and gun. The unfortunate Sassacus met his fate. Alas! he died, not like Connecticote, nor Quinnipiog, but in the field of battle; and the freedom of his country expired with his final groan. This mighty conquest was achieved by the colonists of Connecticut, without the aid of the Massachusets; nevertheless, Mr. Neal and others have ascribed the honour of it to the latter, with a view of magnifying their consequenceever Mr. Neals grand object. The country of NewLondon abounds chiefly with wool, butter, cheese, and Indiancorn; and contains eight towns, all which I shall describe. NewLondon has the river Thames on the east, and the bay of its own name on the south, and resembles Islington. Its port and harbour are the best in the colony. The church, the meeting, and courthouse, are not to be boasted of; the fort is trifling. The houses in this, as in all the towns in the province, are insulated, at the distance of three, four, or five yards one from the other, to prevent the ravages of fire. That of John Winthrop, Esq. is the best in the province. The township is ten miles square, and comprizes five parishes, one of which is episcopal. Abimeleck, a descendant of the first Englishmade king of Mohegin, resides with his small party in this township. He is a king to whom the people pay some respect,because they made him so. The people of this town have the credit of inventing tar and feathers as a proper punishment for heresy. They first inflicted it on quakers and anabaptists. NewLondon has a printing press, much exercised in the business of pamphlets, sermons, and newspapers. It is employed by the Governor and Company, and is the oldest and best in the colony. Newhaven, Hertford, and Norwich, also, have each a printing press; so that the people are plentifully supplied with news, politics, and polemical divinity.A very extraordinary circumstance happened here in 1740. Mr. George Whitefield paid them a visit, and preached of righteousness, temperance, and a judgment to come, which roused them into the belief of an heaven and an hell. They became as children weaned and pliable as melted wax, and with great eagerness cried out, What shall we do to be saved? The preacher, then in the pulpit, thus answered them, Repentdo violence to no manpart with your selfrighteousness, your silk gowns, and laced petticoatsburn your ruffles, necklaces, jewels, rings, tinselled waistcoats, your morality and bishops books, this very night, or damnation will be your portion before the morningdawn. The people, rather thro fear than faith, instantly went out on the common, and prepared for heaven, by burning all the above enumerated goods, excepting that of selfrighteousness, which was exchanged for the preachers velvet breeches.Vide Dr. Chancy.33 Groton, across the bay from NewLondon, resembles Battersea. The township is ten miles square, and forms four parishes, one of which is episcopal. This town was the residence of the valiant Sassacus, Sachem of the Pequod nation. Stonington lies on NarragansetBay, is the east corner of Connecticut, and consists of three parishes. The township is 8 miles square. Preston, on Quinnibaug river, forms three parishes, one of which is episcopal. The township is 8 miles square. Norwich, on the Thames, 14 miles from the sea, is an halfshire with NewLondon. The town stands on a plain, one mile from Chelsea, or the Landing. Its best street is two miles long, and has good houses on both sides, five yards asunder from each other. In the centre is a common, of the size of Bloomsbury Square, in which stand a beautiful courthouse, and a famous meeting with clocks, bells, and steeples. The township is fifteen miles square, and forms 13 parishes, one episcopal. Chelsea, or the Landing, resembles Dover. Here land is sold at fifteen shillings sterling by the square foot.This town is famous for its trade; for ironworks, grist, paper, linseed, spinning and fulling mills; also for a furnace that makes stone ware.Some peculiarities and curiosities here attract the notice of Europeans:1, a bridge over Quinnibaug, 60 yards long, butted on two rocks, and geometrically supported; under which pass ships with all their sails standing:2, the steeple of the grand meetinghouse stands at the east end:3, the inhabitants bury the dead with their feet to the west.The following couplet was written by a traveller, on the steeple: Theyre so perverse and opposite, As if they built to God in spite. The reasons for the singular custom of burying the dead with their feet to the west, are two, and special: first, when Christ begins his millenarian reign, he will come from the west, and his saints will be in a ready posture to rise and meet him: secondly, the papists and episcopalians bury their dead with their feet to the east. Was I to give a character of the people of Norwich, I would do it in the words of the famous Mr. George Whitefield, (who was a good judge of mankind,) in his farewelsermon to them a short time before his death; viz. When I first preached in this magnificent house, above 20 years ago, I told you, that you were part beast, part man, and part devil; at which you were offended. I have since thought much about that expression, and confess that for once I was mistaken. I therefore take this last opportunity to correct my error. Behold! I now tell you, that you are not part man and part beast, but wholly of the devil. Lyme stands on the east side of Connecticut River, opposite Saybrook; and resembles Lewisham. The township is 16 miles long, and 8 wide; and forms four parishes. Saybrook is situated on the west side of Connecticut river, 20 miles west from NewLondon, and resembles Battersea. The township is twenty miles long and six wide, and forms four parishes. This town was named after the Lords Say and Brook, who were said to claim the country, and sent, in 1634, a Governor and a large number of people from England to build a fort and settle the colony. See p. 17. It was principally owing to this fort that Hertford and Newhaven made good their settlements: it prevented Sassacus from giving timely aid to Connecticote and Quinnipiog. Saybrook is greatly fallen from its ancient grandeur; but is, notwithstanding, resorted to with great veneration, as the parent town of the whole colony. The tombs of the first settlers are held sacred, and travellers seldom pass them without the compliment of a sigh or tear. On one mossy stone is written, Here pride is calmd, and death is life. In 1709, this town was honoured by a convention of contending independent divines, who were pleased with no constitution in church or state.This multitude of sectarians, after long debates, published a book, called The Saybrook Platform, containing the doctrines and rules of the churches in Connecticut. The only novelty in this system is, that Christ has delegated his ministerial, kingly, and prophetical power, one half to the people, and the other half to the ministers. This proposition may be thought in Europe a very strange one; but, if it be recollected, that the people in the province claimed all power in heaven and on earth, and that the ministers had no other ordination than what came from the people, it will appear, that the ministers hereby gained from the people one half of their power. From this article originated the practice of the right hand of fellowship at the ordination of a minister. No one can be a minister, till he receives the right hand of the messenger who represents six deacons from six congregations. The conclusion of this reverend and venerable body is, The Bible is our rule. Mr. Neal says, p. 610, That every particular society is a compleat church, having power to exercise all ecclesiastical jurisdiction, without appeal to any classis:they allow of synods for council and advice, but not to exercise the power of the keys. If Mr. Neal had taken the trouble to read the History of the Church of MassachusetsBay, written by the Reverend Mr. John Wise, a minister of that church, he would have found that the contrary to all he has advanced is the truth. The people of that province held the keys from 1620 to 1650: then the ministers got possession of them by their own vote, which was passed into a law by the General Assembly. The vote was, There cannot be a minister, unless he is ordained by ministers of Jesus Christ. Thus commenced ordination by ministers in NewEngland. The people were alarmed at the loss of the keys, and asked the ministers who had ordained them? The ministers answered, The people. Then, replied the people, we are the ministers of Jesus Christ, you are not ministers; and we will keep the power. A violent contest ensued between the people and the ministers; but the latter, by the help of the General Assembly, retained the power of the keys, and instituted three ecclesiastical courts, viz. 1, the minister and his communicants; 2, the associations; and 3, the synod. There lies an appeal from one to the other of these courts, all which exercise so much ecclesiastical power that few are easy under it. The first court suspends from communion, the second rehears the evidence, and confirms or sets aside the suspension; the synod, after hearing the case again, excommunicates or discharges the accused. From the last judgment no appeal is allowed by the synod. The excommunicated person has no other resource than petitioning the General Assembly of the province, which sometimes grants relief, to the great grief of the synod and ministers. But the representatives commonly pay dear for overlooking the conduct of the synod at the next election. The people of Connecticut have adopted the same mode of discipline as prevails in MassachusetsBay, but call the synod a Consociation. To show that the synods are not quite so harmless as Mr. Neal reports, I will give an instance of their authority exercised in Connecticut in 1758. A Mr. Merret, of Lebanon, having lost his wife, with whom he had lived childless forty years, went to RhodeIsland, and married a niece of his late wife, which was agreeable to the laws of that province. By her having a child, Mr. Merret offered the same for baptism to the minister of whose church he was a member. The minister refused, because it was an incestuous child; and cited Merret and his wife to appear before himself and his church upon an indictment of incest. Merret appeared; the verdict was, Guilty of incest. He appealed to the Association, which also found him guilty of incest. He again appealed to the Consociation, and was again found guilty of incest. Merret and his wife were then ordered to separate, and make a public confession, on pain of excommunication. Merret refused; whereupon the minister read the act of excommunication, while the deacons shoved Merret out of the meetinghouse. Being thus cast out of the synagogue, and debarred from the conversation of any one in the parish, it was well said by Mr. Merret: If this be not to exercise the power of the keys, I know not what it is. The poor man soon after died with a broken heart, and was buried in his own garden by such christian brethren as were not afraid of the mild puissance of the Consociation. Mr. Neal says, also, p. 609, after evincing his jealousy at the growth of the Church of England in NewEngland: If the religious liberties of the plantations are invaded by the setting up of spiritual courts, c., they will feel the sad effects of it. In this sentiment I agree with Mr. Neal; but, unluckily, he meant the bishops courts, and I meant the courts of synods, composed of his meek, exemplary, and learned divines of NewEngland, but who are more severe and terrible than even was the StarChamber under the influence of Laud, or the Inquisition of Spain. The ecclesiastical courts of NewEngland have, in the course of 160 years, bored the tongues with hot needles, cut off the ears, branded the foreheads of, and banished, imprisoned, and hanged more quakers, baptists, adamites, ranters, episcopalians, for what they call heresy, blasphemy, and witchcraft, than there are instances of persecution in Foxs book of Martyrology, or under the bishops of England since the death of Henry VIII. And yet Mr. Neal was afraid of spiritual courts, and admired the practice of NewEngland churches, who only excommunicated offenders, delivering them over to the civil magistrates to torture and ruin. If I remember right, I once saw the Inquisition of Portugal act after the same manner, when the priest said, We deal with the soul, and the civil magistrate with the body. Time not having destroyed the walls of the fort at Saybrook, Mr. Whitefield, in 1740, attempted to bring them down, as Joshua brought down the walls of Jericho, to convince the gaping multitude of his divine mission. He walked several times round the fort with prayer, and ramshorns blowing; he called on the angel of Joshua to come and do as he had done at the walls of Jericho; but the angel was deaf, or on a journey, or asleep, and therefore the walls remained. Hereupon George cried aloud: This town is accursed for not receiving the messenger of the Lord; therefore the angel is departed, and the walls shall stand as a monument of sinful people. He shook off the dust of his feet against them, and departed, and went to Lyme. Killingsworth is ten miles west from Saybrook, lies on the sea, and resembles Wadsworth. The town is eight miles square, and divided into two parishes. This town is noted for the residence of the Rev. Mr. Elliot, commonly known as Dr. Elliot, who discovered the art of making steel out of sand, and wrote a book on husbandry, which will secure him a place in the Temple of Fame. Windham, the second county in the ancient kingdom of Sassacus, or colony of Saybrook, is hilly; but the soil being rich, has excellent butter, cheese, hemp, Indiancorn, and horses. Its towns are twelve. Windham resembles Rumford, and stands on Winnomantic River. Its meetinghouse is elegant, and has a steeple, bell, and clock. Its courthouse is scarcely to be looked upon as an ornament. The township forms four parishes, and is ten miles square. Strangers are very much terrified at the hideous noise made on summer evenings by the vast number of frogs in the brooks and ponds. There are about thirty different voices among them, some of which resemble the bellowing of a bull. The owls and whippoorwills complete the rough concert, which may be heard several miles. Persons accustomed to such serenades are not disturbed by them at their proper stations; but one night in July, 1758, the frogs of an artificial pond, three miles square, and about five from Windham, finding the water dried up, left the place in a body, and marched, or rather hopped, towards Winnomantic River. They were under the necessity of taking the road and going through the town, which they entered about midnight. The bullfrogs were the leaders, and the pipers followed without number. They filled the road, forty yards wide, for four miles in length, and were for several hours in passing through the town unusually clamorous. The inhabitants were equally perplexed and frightened: some expected to find an army of French and Indians; others feared an earthquake, and dissolution of Nature. The consternation was universal. Old and young, male and female; fled naked from their beds, with worse shriekings than those of the frogs. The event was fatal to several women. The men, after a flight of half a mile, in which they met with many broken shins, finding no enemies in pursuit of them, made a hault, and summoned resolution enough to venture back to their wives and children, when they distinctly heard from the enemys camp these words: Wight, Hilderkin, Dier, Tete. This last, they thought, meant treaty, and, plucking up courage, they sent a triumvirate to capitulate with the supposed French and Indians. These the men approached in their shirts, and begged to speak with the general; but, it being dark and no answer given, they were sorely agitated for some time betwixt hope and fear: at length, however, they discovered that the dreaded inimical army was an army of thirsty frogs going to the river for a little water. Such an incursion was never known before nor since; and yet the people of Windham have been ridiculed for their timidity on this occasion. I verily believe an army under the Duke of Marlborough would, under like circumstances, have acted no better than they did. In 1768 the inhabitants of Connecticut River were as much alarmed by an army of caterpillars as those of Windham were at the frogs; and no one found reason to jest at their fears. Those worms came in one night and covered the earth, on both sides of the river, to an extent of three miles in front and two in depth. They marched with great speed, and eat up everything green for the space of one hundred miles, in spite of rivers, ditches, fires, and the united efforts of 1,000 men. They were, in general, two inches long, had white bodies covered with thorns, and red throats. When they had finished their work they went down to the river Connecticut, where they died, poisoning the waters, until they were washed into the sea. This calamity was imputed by some to the vast number of logs and trees lying in the creeks, and to cinders, smoke, and fires, made to consume the waste wood for three or four hundred miles up the Connecticut River; while others thought it augurated future evils, similar to those of Egypt. The inhabitants of the Verdmonts would unavoidably have perished with famine, in consequence of the devastation of these worms, had not a remarkable Providence filled the wilderness with wild pigeons, which were killed by sticks as they sat upon the branches of the trees, in such multitudes that 30,000 people lived on them for three weeks. If a natural cause may be assigned for the coming of the frogs and caterpillars, yet the visit of the pigeons to the wilderness in August has been necessarily ascribed to the interposition of infinite Power and Goodness. Happy will it be for America, if the smiling providence of Heaven produces gratitude, repentance, and obedience, amongst her children! Lebanon lies on the west side of Winnomantic River. The best street, which has good houses on both sides, is one mile long and one hundred yards wide. An elegant meetinghouse, with steeple and bell, stands in the centre. The township is ten miles square, and forms four parishes. This town was formerly famous for an Indian school, under the conduct of Rev. Eleazer Wheelock, whose great zeal for the spiritual good of the savages in the wilderness induced him to solicit a collection from England. Having met with success, his school at Lebanon became a college in the province of Newhampshire, where he has converted his godliness into gain, and promises fair to excuse government from the expense of a superintendent of Indian affairs. Coventry lies on the same river; the houses are straggling. The township is ten miles square, and consists of two parishes. Here are two ponds, the one three and the other four miles long, and half as wide, well filled with mackerel and other fish. Mansfield lies east of Coventry, on Winnomantic and Fundy Rivers; the houses are scattered. The township is eight miles square, and divided into two parishes. Union and Wilmington lie on Winnomantic River, forming two parishes. Each township is six miles square. Ashford lies on the Fundy, in a township ten miles square, and forms three parishes. The people of the town have distinguished themselves by a strict enforcement of the colonylaws against heretics and episcopalians, for not attending their meeting on the Sabbath. Woodstock lies on Quinnibaug, and resembles Finchley. The township is ten miles square, and divided into three parishes. Woodstock had the honour of giving birth to the Rev. Thomas Bradbury Chandler, D. D., a learned divine of the Church of England, and well known in the literary world. Killingsley lies east of Woodstock. The township, twenty miles long and six wide, forms three parishes. Pomfret stands on Quinnibaug River, and resembles Battersea. The township is twelve miles square, and forms four parishes, one of which is episcopal. Fanaticism had always prevailed in the county of Windham over christian moderation: where, about the year 1770, after many abuses, the episcopalians found a friend in Godfree Malebone, Esq. who built on his own estate an elegant church, which was patronized by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, who appointed a clergyman. We read that David slew a lion and a bear, and afterwards that Saul trusted him to fight Goliath. In Pomfret lives Colonel Israel Putnam, who slew a shebear and her two cubs with a billet of wood. The bravery of this action brought him into public notice; and it seems he is one of fortunes favourites. The story is as follows: In 1754 a large shebear came in the night from her den, which was three miles from Mr. Putnams house, and took a sow out of his pen. The sow, by squeaking, awoke Mr. Putnam, who hastily ran to the poor creatures relief; but, before he could reach the pen, the bear had left it, and was trotting away with the sow in her mouth. Mr. Putnam took up a billet of wood and followed the screaming of the sow, till he came to the foot of the mountain where the den was. Dauntless he entered the horrid cavern, and, after walking and crawling on his hands and knees for fifty yards, came to a roomy cell, where the bear met him with great fury. He saw nothing but the fire of her eyes, but that was sufficient for our hero; he accordingly directed his blow, which at once proved fatal to the bear, and saved his own life at a most critical moment. Putnam then discovered and killed the two cubs; and having, though in Egyptian darkness, dragged them and the dead sow, one by one, out of the cave, he went home, and calmly reported to his family what had happened. The neighbors declared, on viewing the place by torchlight, that his exploit exceeded those of Samson or David. Soon after, the General Assembly appointed Mr. Putnam a lieutenant in the army marching against Canada. His courage and good conduct raised him to the rank of Captain the next year. The third year he was made a Major, and the fourth a Colonel. Putnam and Rogers were the heroes through the last war. Putnam was so hardy, at a time when the Indians had killed all his men and completely hemmed him in upon a river, as to leap into the stream, which in a minute carried him down a stupendous falls, where no tree could pass without being torn to pieces. The Indians reasonably concluded that Putnam, their terrible enemy, was dead, and made their report accordingly at Ticonderoga; but soon after a scouting party found their sad mistake in a bloody rencontre. Some few that got off declared that Putnam was yet living, and that he was the first son of Hobbomockow, and therefore immortal. However, at length the Indians took this terrible warrior prisoner, and tied him to a tree, where he hung three days without food or drink. They did not attempt to kill him, for fear of offending Hobbomockow; but they sold him to the French at a great price. The name of Putnam was more alarming to the Indians than cannon, and they never would fight him after his escape from the falls. He was afterwards redeemed by the English. Plainfield and Canterbury lie on Quinnibaug River, opposite to one another, and have much the appearance of Lewisham. Each township is eight miles square, and forms two parishes. Voluntown lies on a small river, and resembles Finchley Common. The township is fifteen miles long and five wide, and forms three parishes, one of which is Presbyterian. This sect has met with as little christian charity and humanity in this hairbrained country as the Anabaptists, Quakers, and Churchmen. The Sober Dissenters of this town, as they style themselves, will not attend the funeral of a Presbyterian. The KINGDOM OF CONNECTICOTE forms two counties, viz. Hertford and Litchfield, which contain about 15,000 houses and 120,000 inhabitants. The county of Hertford excels the rest in tobacco, onions, grain of all sorts, hay, and cider. It contains twentyone towns, the chief of which I shall describe, comparing the rest to the towns near London. Hertford town is deemed the capital of the province; it stands forty miles from Saybrook, and the same distance from Newhaven, on the west bank of Connecticut River, and is formed into squares. The township is twenty miles from east to west, and six in breadth, comprising six parishes, one of which is episcopal. The houses are partly of brick and partly of wood, well built, but, as I have observed in general of the towns in Connecticut, do not join. Kings Street is two miles long and thirty yards wide, well paved, and cut in two by a small river, over which is a high bridge. The town is half a mile wide. A grand courthouse, and two elegant meetings, with steeples, bells, and clocks, adorn it. In 1760 a foundation of quarrystone was laid for an Episcopal church in this town, at the expense of nearly 300l., on which occasion the episcopalians had a mortifying proof that the present inhabitants inherit the spirit of their ancestors. Samuel Talcott, Esq. one of the Judges of the County Court, with the assistance of a mob, took away the stones, and with them built a house for his son. What added to so meritorious an action, was its being justified by the General Assembly and the Consociation. In 1652 this town had the honour of executing Mrs. Greensmith, the first witch ever heard of in America. She was accused, in the indictment, of practising evil things on the body of Ann Cole, which did not appear to be true; but the Rev. Mr. Stone, and other ministers, swore that Greensmith had confessed to them that the devil had had carnal knowledge of her. The Court then ordered her to be hanged upon the indictment. Surely none of the learned divines and statesmen studied in the Temple or Lincolns Inn! It should seem that every Dominion or township was possessed of an ambition to make itself famous in history. The same year Springfield, not to be outdone by Hertford, brought Hugh Parsons to trial for witchcraft, and the jury found him guilty. Mr. Pincheon, the Judge, had some understanding, and prevented his execution till the matter was laid before the General Court in Boston, who determined that he was not guilty of witchcraft. The truth was, Parsons was blessed with a fine person and genteel address, insomuch that the women could not help admiring him above every other man in Springfield, and the men could not help hating him; so that there were witnesses enough to swear that Parsons was a wizzard, because he made the females love and the men hate him. In Hertford are the following curiosities: 1. A house built of American oak in 1640, the timbers of which are yet sound, nay, almost petrified; in it was born John Belcher, Esq. Governor of MassachusetsBay, and NewJersey. 2. An elm, esteemed sacred, for being the tree in which their Charter was concealed. 3. A wonderful well, which was dug sixty feet deep without any appearance of water, when a large rock was met with. The miners, boring this rock in order to blast it with powder, drove the auger through it, upon which the water spouted up with such great velocity that it was with difficulty the well was stoned. It soon filled and ran over, and has supported, or rather made, a brook for above one hundred years. The tomb of Mr. Hooker is viewed with great reverence by his disciples. Nathaniel, his greatgrandson, a minister in Hertford, inherits more than all his virtues, without any of his vices.34 Weathersfield is four miles from Hertford, and more compact than any town in the colony. The meetinghouse is of brick, with a steeple, bell, and clock. The inhabitants say it is much larger than Solomons Temple. The township is ten miles square; parishes four. The people are more gay than polite, and more superstitious than religious. This town raises more onions than are consumed in all NewEngland. It is a rule with parents to buy annually a silk gown for each daughter above seven years old, till she is married. The young beauty is obliged, in return, to weed a patch of onions with her own hands; which she performs in the cool of the morning, before she dresses her beefsteak. This laudable and healthy custom is ridiculed by the ladies of other towns, who idle away their mornings in bed, or in gathering the pink, or catching the butterfly, to ornament their toilets; while the gentlemen, far and near, forget not the Weathersfield ladies silken industry. Weathersfield was settled in 1637 by the Rev. Mr. Smith and his followers, who left Watertown, near Boston, in order to get out of the power of Mr. Cotton, whose severity in NewEngland exceeded that of the bishops in OldEngland. But Mr. Smith did not discard the spirit of persecution as the sole property of Mr. Cotton, but carried with him a sufficient quantity of it to distress and divide his little flock. Middletown is ten miles below Weathersfield, and beautifully situated upon the Connecticut, between two small rivers one mile asunder, which is the length of the town and grand street. Here is an elegant church, with steeple, bell, clock, and organ; and a large meeting without a steeple. The people are polite, and not much troubled with that fanatic zeal which pervades the rest of the colony. The township is ten miles square, and forms four parishes, one episcopalian. This and the two preceding towns may be compared to Chelsea. The following towns, which lie on the Connecticut River, are so much alike that a description of one will serve for the whole, viz. Windsor, East Windsor, Glastenbury, Endfield, Suffield, Chatham, Haddam, and East Haddam. Windsor, the best, is cut in two by the river Ett, which wanders from the northward 100 miles, through various meadows, towns, and villages, and resembles Bedford. Township ten miles square, forming three parishes. It was settled in 1637 by the Rev. Mr. Huet and his associates, who fled from religious slavery in Boston, to enjoy the power of depriving others of liberty. The following towns, lying back of the river towns, being similar in most respects, I shall join also in one class, viz. Hebron, Colchester, Bolton, Tolland, Stafford, and Sommers. Hebron is the centre of the province, and it is remarkable that there are thirtysix towns larger and thirtysix less. It is situated between two ponds, about two miles in length and one in breadth, and is intersected by two small rivers, one of which falls into the Connecticut, the other into the Thames. A large meeting stands on the square, where four roads meet. The town resembles Finchley. The township is eight miles square; five parishes, one is episcopal. The number of houses is 400; of inhabitants, 3,200. It pays one part out of seventythree of the governmental taxes, and is a bed of farmers on their own estates. Frequent suits about the Indian titles have rendered them famous for their knowledge in law and selfpreservation. In 1740 Mr. George Whitefield gave them this laconic character: Hebron, says he, is the stronghold of Satan; for its people mightily oppose the work of the Lord, being more fond of earth than heaven. This town is honoured by the residence of the Rev. Dr. Benjamin Pomeroy, an excellent scholar, an exemplary gentleman, and a most thundering preacher of the NewLight order. His great abilities procured him the favour and honour of being the instructor of Abimeleck, the present king of Mohegin. He is of a very persevering, sovereign disposition, but just, polite, generous, charitable, and without dissimulation. Avis alba. Here also reside some of the descendants of William Peters, Esq. already spoken of, among whom is the Rev. Samuel Peters,35 an episcopal clergyman, who, by his generosity and zeal for the Church of England, rendered himself famous both in New and OldEngland, and in some degree made an atonement for the fanaticism and treason of his uncle Hugh, and of his ancestor on his mothers side, MajorGeneral Thomas Harrison, both hanged at CharingCross in the last century. Colchester has to boast of the Rev. John Buckley for its first minister, whose grandfather was the Rev. Peter Buckley, of Woodhill, in Bedfordshire in OldEngland; who, after being silenced by the bishop for his misconduct, went to NewEngland in 1635, and died at Concord in 1658. John Buckley was a great scholar, and, suffering prudence to govern his hard temper, he conciliated the esteem of all parties, and became the ornament of the Sober Dissenters in Connecticut. He was a lawyer, a physician, and divine. He published an ingenious pamphlet to prove that the title of the people to their lands was good, because they had taken them out of the state of nature. His argument satisfied many who thought their titles were neither legal, just, nor scriptural; indeed, it may seem conclusive, if his major proposition be granted, that the English found Connecticut in a state of nature. His son John was a lawyer and physician of great reputation, and was appointed a Judge of the Superior Court very young. He and his father were suspected to be not sound in faith, because they used in their prayers, From battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord deliver us, for the sake of thine only Son, who commands us thus to pray, Our Father, c., c. Peter Buckley was possessed of a gentlemans estate in Bedfordshire, which he sold, and spent the produce among his servants in MassachusetsBay. His posterity in Colchester, in Connecticut, are very rich, and, till lately, were held in great esteem, which, however, they lost by conforming to the Church of England. There is nothing remarkable to be observed of any of the other towns I have classed with Hebron, except Stafford, which possesses a mineral spring that has the reputation of curing the gout, sterility, pulmony, hysterics, c., c., and therefore is the NewEngland Bath, where the sick and rich resort to prolong life and acquire the polite accomplishments. Herrington, Farmington, and Symsbury, lying on the west of Hertford, and on the river Ett, will finish the county of Hertford. Herrington is ten miles square, and forms two parishes. Farmington resembles Corydon. The township is fifteen miles square, and forms eight parishes, three of which are episcopal. Here the meadowland is sold at 50l. per acre. Symsbury, with its meadows and surrounding hills, forms a beautiful landscape, much like Maidstone, in Kent. The township is twenty miles square, and consists of nine parishes, four of which are episcopal. Here are copper mines. In working one, many years ago, the miners bored half a mile through a mountain, making large cells, forty yards below the surface, which now serve as a prison, by order of the General Assembly, for such offenders as they choose not to hang. The prisoners are let down on a windlass into this dismal cavern, through a hole which answers the triple purpose of conveying them food, air, andI was going to saylight, but that scarcely reaches them. In a few months the prisoners are released by death, and the colony rejoices in her great humanity and the mildness of her laws. This conclave of spirits imprisoned may be called with great propriety the Catacomb of Connecticut. The light of the sun and the light of the Gospel are alike shut out from the martyrs, whose resurrectionstate will eclipse the wonder of that of Lazarus. It has been remarked by the candid part of this religious colony, that the General Assembly and Consociation have never allowed any prisoners in the whole province a chaplain, though they have spent much of their time and public money in spreading the gospel in the neighbouring colonies among the Indians, Quakers, and episcopalians, and though, at the same time, those religionists preach damnation to all people who neglect to attend public worship twice every Sabbath, fasting, and thanksgiving days, provided they are appointed by themselves, and not by the King and Parliament of Great Britain. This wellfounded remark has been treated by the zealots as springing more from malice than policy. I beg leave to give the following instances of the humanity and mildness the province has always manifested for the episcopal clergy. About 1746, the Rev. Mr. Gibbs, of Symsbury, refusing to pay a rate imposed for the salary of Mr. Mills, a dissenting minister in the same town, was, by the collector, thrown across a horse, lashed hands and feet under the creatures belly, and carried many miles in that humane manner to gaol. Mr. Gibbs was half dead when he got there; and though he was released by his church wardens, who, to save his life, paid the assessment, yet, having taken cold in addition to his bruises, he became delirious, and has remained in a state of insanity ever since. In 1772 the Rev. Mr. Moyley, a missionary from the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, at Litchfield, was presented by the Grand Jury for marrying a couple belonging to his parish, after the banns had been duly published, and consent of parents obtained. The Court mildly fined Mr. Moyley 20l. because he could not show any other license to officiate as a clergyman than what he had received from the Bishop of London, whose authority the Court determined did not extend to Connecticut, which was a chartered government. One of the Judges said: It is high time to put a stop to the usurpations of the Bishop of London, and to let him know that, though his license be lawful, and may empower one of his curates to marry in England, yet it is not so in America; and if fines would not curb them in this point, imprisonment should. The second county in the Kingdom of Connecticote, and the most mountainous in the whole province, is Litchfield, which produces abundance of wheat, butter, cheese, iron ore, c., and has many iron works, foundries, and furnaces. It contains the following fourteen towns: Litchfield is watered by two small rivers. An elegant meetinghouse and decent courthouse, with steeple and bells, ornament the square, where three roads meet. The best street is one mile long. It resembles Dartford. The township is twelve miles square, and forms five parishes, one of which is episcopal. Though Litchfield is the youngest county of Connecticut, yet in 1766 it set an example to the rest worthy of imitation. The province had always been greatly pestered by a generation of men called quacks, who, with a few Indian nostrums, a lancet, a glisterpipe, rhubarb, treaclewater mixed with Roman bombast of vena cava and vena porta, attacked fevers, nervous disorders, and broken bones, and, by the grace of perseverance, subdued Nature, and helped their patients to a passage to the world of spirits before they were ready. The surgeons and physicians who were not quacks formed themselves into a society for the encouragement of literature and a regular and wholesome practice. But their laudable endeavours were discountenanced by the General Assembly, who refused to comply with their solicitations for a charter; because the quacks and the people said, If the charter were granted, the learned men would become too rich by an monopoly, as they did in England. The answer to this question was, Would it not be better to permit a monopoly to preserve the health and lives of the people, than to suffer quacks to kill them and ruin the province? The reply proved decisive in that fanatical Assembly, viz. No medicine can be serviceable without the blessing of God. The quacks never administer any physic without the prayers of the minister. One doctor proposed the trial of a dose of arsenicwhether it would not kill any one who would take it, though twenty ministers should pray against it. He was called a profane man, the petition was rejected, and quackery remains triumphant.36 NewMilford lies on the Osootonoc River. A church and meeting, with steeples and bells, beautify the town, which resembles Fulham. The township, twelve miles square, forms five parishes, of which two are episcopal. Woodbury lies on the same river, and resembles Kentishtown. The township, twelve miles square, is divided into seven parishes, three of them episcopal. In this town lives the Rev. Dr. Bellamy, who is a good scholar and a great preacher. He has attempted to shew a more excellent way to heaven than was known before. He may be called the Athenian of Connecticut, for he has published something new to the christian world. Zuinglius may learn from him. The following towns lie also on the Osootonoc, viz. Sharon, Kent, Salisbury, New Fairfield, Cornwall, Goshen, and Canaan; and all of them resemble Finchley. Each township is ten miles square. Sharon forms three parishes, one of which is episcopal. It is much noted on account of a famous mill, invented and built by a Mr. Joel Harvey upon his own estate; for which he received a compliment of 20l. from the Society of Arts in London. The water, by turning one wheel, sets the whole in motion. In two apartments wheat is ground; in two others, bolted; in another, thrashed; in a sixth, winnowed; in the seventh, hemp and flax are beaten; and in the eighth, dressed. Either branch is discontinued at pleasure, without impeding the rest. The other towns of Litchfield county are: NewHertford, Torrington, Hartland, and Winchester; all which lie on the river Ett. The townships are severally about six miles square, and each forms one parish. The KINGDOM OF QUINNIPIOG constituted the Dominion of Newhaven, divided into two counties, viz. Newhaven and Fairfield; these again divided into seventeen townships, about twelve miles square each. The number of houses is nearly 10,000, and that of the inhabitants 60,000. The county of Newhaven is hilly, and has a thin soil, enriched, however, by the industry of its inhabitants. The chief commodities are flax, rye, barley, white beans, and salt hay. It contains eight towns, four of which lie on the Sound, and the others on the back of them. Newhaven township comprises fourteen parishes, three of them episcopal and one Sandemanian. The town, being the most beautiful in NewEngland, if not in all America, is entitled to a minute description. It is bounded southly by the bay, into which the river Quinnipiack empties itself; easterly and westerly by two creeks two miles asunder; and northerly by a lofty mountain, that extends even to the river St. Lawrence, and forms a highland between the rivers Hudson and Connecticut, standing in a plain three miles by two in extent. This plain is divided into 300 squares of the size of Bloomsbury Square, with streets twenty yards wide between each division. Forty of these squares are already built upon, having houses of brick and wood on each front, about five yards asunder; every house with a garden that produces vegetables sufficient for the family. Two hundred houses are annually erected. Elms and buttontrees surround the centre square, wherein are two meetings, the courthouse, the gaol, and Latin school; in the fronts of the adjoining squares are Yale College, the chapel, a meeting, and a church: all these grand buildings with steeples and bells. The market is plentifully supplied with every necessary during the whole year, excepting greens in winter. But the harbour is incommoded by flats near the town for one mile in width, and by ice in winter. The former evil is, in some measure, remedied by long and expensive wharves, but the latter is incurable. The people, however, say their trade is greater than that of Norwich or NewLondon; and their shipping, of different burthens, consists of nearly 200 sail. According to Dr. Mather, Newhaven was, about 1646, to have been made a city, the interests of the colony with Cromwells party being then very great; but a wonderful phenomenon prevented it. As the good Dr. Mather never wanted faith through the whole course of his Magnalia, and as the NewEnglanders to the present time believe his reports, I will here present my readers with the history of this miracle: The people of Newhaven fitted out a ship, and sent her richly laden for England, to procure a patent for the colony and a charter for the city. After the ship had been at sea some weeks, there happened in NewEngland a violent storm, which induced the people of Newhaven to fast and pray, to inquire of the Lord whether their ship was in that storm or not. This was a real fast: for the people neither eat nor drank from sunrise to sunset. At five oclock in the afternoon they came out of the meeting, walking softly, heavily, and sadly, homewards. On a sudden the air thundered and the lightnings shone abroad. They looked up towards the heavens, when they beheld their ship in full sail, and the sailors steering her from West to East. She came over the meeting, where they had fasted and prayed, and there was met by a euroclydon, which rent the sails and overset the ship. In a few moments she fell down near the weathercock, on the steeple, and instantly vanished. The people all returned to the meeting, when the minister gave thanks to God for answering the desires of his servants, and for giving them an infallible token of the loss of their ship and charter. This, and divers other miracles which have happened in NewEngland, have been and still are useful to the clergy in establishing the people in the belief that there is a great familiarity between God and their ministers. Hence the ministers govern the superstitious; whilst the deacon, the lawyer, and the merchant, for lucre, wink at the imposition. Yet the ministers, in their turn, are governed by their abettors. Thou genius of adventure, that carriedst Columbus from eastern to western shores, the domain of savage beasts and savage men, now cursed with the demons of superstition and fanaticism, oh, kindle in no other breast the wish to seek new worlds! Africa already mourns, and Europe trembles! The true character of Davenport and Eaton, the leaders of the first settlers of Newhaven, may be learnt from the following fact: An English gentleman of the name of Grigson, coming on his travels to Newhaven about the year 1644, was greatly pleased with its pleasant situation, and, after purchasing a large settlement, sent to London for his wife and family. But, before their arrival, he found that a charming situation, without the blessings of religious and civil liberty, would not render him and his family happy; he resolved, therefore, to quit the country and return to England as soon as his family should arrive, and accordingly advertised his property for sale; when, lo! agreeable to one of the Bible laws, no one would buy, because he had not, and could not obtain, liberty of the selectmen to sell it. The patriotic virtue of the selectmen thus becoming an insurmountable bar to the sale of his Newhaven estate, Mr. Grigson made his will, and bequeathed part of his lands towards the support of an episcopal clergyman, who should reside in that town, and the residue to his own heirs. Having deposited his will in the hands of a friend, he set sail with his family for England, but died on the passage. This friend proved the will, and had it recorded, but died also soon after. The record was dexterously concealed, by glueing two leaves together; and, after some years, the selectmen sold the whole estate to pay taxes, though the rent of Mr. Grigsons house alone, in one year, would pay taxes for ten. Some persons hardy enough to exclaim against this glaring act of injustice, were soon silenced and expelled the town. In 1750 an episcopal clergyman was settled in Newhaven, and, having been informed of Grigsons will, applied to the town clerk for a copy, who told him there was no such will on record, and withal refused him the liberty of searching. In 1768, Peter Harrison, Esq. of Nottinghamshire in England, the kings collector in Newhaven, claimed his right of searching public records; and, being a stranger, and not supposed to have any knowledge of Grigsons will, obtained his demand. The alphabet contained Grigsons name, and referred to a page which was not to be found in the book. Mr. Harrison supposed it to have been torn out; but, on closer examination, discovered one leaf much thicker than the others. He put a corner of the thick leaf in his mouth, and soon found it was composed of two leaves, which with much difficulty having separated, he found Grigsons will! To make sure of the work, he took a copy of it himself, and then called the clerk to draw and attest another, which was done. Thus furnished, Mr. Harrison instantly applied to the selectmen, and demanded a surrender of the land which belonged to the Church, but which they as promptly refused; whereupon Mr. Harrison took out writs of ejectment against the possessors. As might be expected, Mr. Harrison, from a good man, became, in ten days, the worst man in the world; but, being a generous and brave Englishman, he valued not their clamors and curses, though they terrified the gentlemen of the law. Harrison was obliged to be his own lawyer, and boldly declared he expected to lose his cause in NewEngland; but after that he would appeal, and try it, at his own expense, in OldEngland, where justice reigned. The good people, knowing Harrison did not get his bread by their votes, and that they could not baffle him, resigned the lands to the Church on that gentlemans own terms, which in a few years will support a clergyman in a very genteel manner. The honest selectmen yet possess the other lands, though report says Mr. Grigson has an heir of his own name residing near Holborn, in London, who inherits the virtues of his ancestor, and ought to inherit his estate. The sad and awful discovery of Mr. Grigsons will, after having been concealed for one hundred years, would have confounded any people but those of Newhaven, who study nothing but religion and liberty. Those pious souls consoled themselves by comparison: We are no worse, said they, than the people of Boston and Windham County. The following will explain this justification of the saints of Newhaven: In 1740 Mrs. Cursette, an English lady, travelling from NewYork to Boston, was obliged to stay some days at Hebron; when, seeing the church not finished, and the people suffering great persecutions, she told them to persevere in their good work, and she would send them a present when she got to Boston. Soon after her arrival there Mrs. Cursette fell sick and died. In her will she gave a legacy of 300l. old tenor (then equal to 100l. sterling) to the Church of England in Hebron, and appointed John Handcock, Esq. and Nathaniel Glover, her executors. Glover was also her residuary legatee. The will was obliged to be recorded in Windham County, because some of Mrs. Cursettes lands lay there. Glover sent the will to Deacon S. H, of Canterbury, ordering him to get it recorded, and keep it private, lest the legacy should build up the Church. The Deacon and Registrar were faithful to their trust, and kept Glovers secret twentyfive years. At length the Deacon was taken ill, and his life was supposed in great danger. Among his penitential confessions, he told of his having concealed Mrs. Cursettes will. His confidant went to Hebron, and informed the wardens that for one guinea he would discover a secret of 300l. old tenor consequence to the Church. The guinea was paid and the secret disclosed. A demand of the legacy ensued. Mr. Handcock referred to Glover, and Glover said he was neither obliged to publish the will nor pay the legacy: it had lapsed to the heiratlaw. It being difficult for a Connecticut man to recover a debt in the MassachusetsBay, and vice versa, the wardens were obliged to accept from Mr. Glover 30l. instead of 300l. sterling; which sum, allowing 200l. as lawful simple interest at six per cent. for twentyfive years, ought in equity have been paid. This matter, however, Mr. Glover is to settle with Mrs. Cursette in the other world. Newhaven is celebrated for having given the name of pumpkinheads to all the NewEnglanders. It originated from the Blue Laws, which enjoined every male to have his hair cut round by a cap. When caps were not to be had, they substituted the hard shell of a pumpkin, which being put on the head every Saturday, the hair is cut by the shell all round the head. Whatever religious virtue is supposed to be derived from this custom, I know not; but there is much prudence in it: first, it prevents the hair from snarling; secondly, it saves the use of combs, bags, and ribbons; thirdly, the hair cannot incommode the eyes by falling over them; and fourthly, such persons as have lost their ears for heresy, and other wickedness, cannot conceal their misfortune and disgrace. Cruelty and godliness were perhaps never so well reconciled by any people as by those of Newhaven, who are alike renounded for both. The unhappy story of Deacon Potter has eternalized the infamy of their Blue Laws, and almost annexed to their town the name of Sodom. The Deacon had borne the best of characters many years; he was the peacemaker, and an enemy to persecution; but he was grown old, was rich, and had a young wife. His young wife had an inclination for a young husband, and had waited with impatience for the death of her old one, till at length, resolving, if possible, to accelerate the attainment of her wishes, she complained to the magistrate that her husband did not render her due benevolence. The Judge took no notice of what she said. She then swore that her husband was an apostate, and that he was fonder of his mare, bitch, and cow, than of her; in which allegation she was joined by her son. The Deacon was brought to trial, condemned, and executed with the beasts, and with them also buried in one common grave. Dr. Mather, with his usual quantity of faith, speaks of the Deacon as very guilty, as having had a fair, legal, and candid trial, and convicted on good and scriptural evidence. I am willing to allow the Doctor as much sincerity as faith. He had his information from the party who condemned the Deacon; but there are manuscripts, which I have seen, that state the matter thus: Deacon Potter was hanged for heresy and apostacy, which consisted in showing hospitality to strangers, who came to his house in the night, among whom were Quakers, Anabaptists, and Adamites. This was forbidden by the Blue Laws, which punished for the first and second offence with fines, and with death for the third. His wife and son betrayed him for hiding the spies and sending them away in peace. The Court was contented with calling his complicated crimes beastiality; his widow with a new husband; and the son with the estate; while the public were deceived by the arts of the wicked junto. I have related this story to shew the danger of admitting a wife to give evidence against her husband, according to the Blue Laws; and to caution all readers against crediting too much the historians of NewEngland, who, either from motives of fear or emolument, have in numberless instances designedly disguised or concealed the truth. Such persons whose stubborn principles would not bend to this yoke, were not suffered to search the colonial records; and those who have dared to intimate that all was not right among the first settlers, have been compelled to leave the country with the double loss of character and property. To Newhaven now belongs Yale College, of which I have promised my readers a particular account. It was originally, as already mentioned, a School, established by the Rev. Thomas Peters at Saybrook, who left it his library at his death. It soon acquired the distinguished appellation of Schola Illustris, and about 1700 was honoured by the General Assembly with a charter of incorporation, converting it into a college, under the denomination of Yale College, in compliment to a gentleman of that name, governor of one of the West India Islands, and its greatest benefactor. The charter constitutes a president, three tutors, twelve overseers, and a treasurer; and exempts it from any visitation of the Governor or Assembly, in order to secure it against the control of a Kings Governor, in case one should ever be appointed. I have already observed that a power of conferring Bachelors and Masters degrees was granted by the charter, and that the corporation have thought proper to assume that of conferring Doctors degrees. By the economical regulations of the College, there are a professor of divinity, mathematics, and natural philosophy; and four classes of students, which were at first attended by the president and the three tutors; but the president has long been excused that laborious task, and a fourth tutor appointed in his stead. Each class has its proper tutor. Once a week the president examines them all in the public hall, superintends their disputations and scientific demonstrations, and, if any student appears to be negligent, orders him under the care of a special tutora stigma which seldom fails of producing its intended effect. Greek, Latin, geography, history, and logic, are well taught in this seminary; but it suffers for want of tutors to teach the Hebrew, French, and Spanish languages. Oratory, music, and politeness, are equally neglected here and in the colony. The students attend prayers every morning and evening, at six oclock. The president, professor, and one of the tutors, reads and expounds a chapter, then a psalm is sung, after which follows a prayer. The hours of study are notified by the College bell, and every scholar seen out of his room is liable to a fine, which is seldom excused. The amusements for the evenings are not cards, dancing, or music, but reading and composition. They are allowed two hours play with football every day. Thus cooped up for four years, they understand books better than men or manners. They then are admitted to their Bachelors degree, having undergone a public examination in the arts and sciences. Three years afterwards they are admitted to their Masters degree, provided they have supported moral characters. The ceremony used by the president upon these occasions is to deliver a book to the intended Master in Arts, saying: Admitto te ad secundum Gradum in Artibus, pro more Acadmiarum in Anglia; tradoque tibi hunc librum, una cum protestate publici prlegendi quoties cunque ad hoc munus evocatus fueris. For Bachelors the same, mutatis mutandis. A diploma in vellum, with the seal of the College, is given to each Master, and signed by the president and six fellows or overseers. The first degrees of Masters were given in 1702. The students in late years have amounted to about 180. They dine in the common hall at four tables, and the tutors and graduates at a fifth. The number of the whole is about 200. Yale College is built with wood, and painted a sky colour; it is 160 feet long and three stories high, besides garrets. In 1754, another building of brick, 100 feet long and three stories high, exclusive of garrets, with double rooms, and a double front, was added, and called Connecticut Hall. About 1760, a very elegant chapel and library was erected, with brick, under one roof. But it cannot be supposed the latter is to be compared with the Vatican or the Bodleian. It consists of eight or ten thousand volumes in all branches of literature, but wants modern books; though there is a tolerable sufficiency, if the corporation would permit what they call Bishops and Arminian books to be read. Ames Medulla is allowed, while Grotius de Veritate Religionis is denied. It was lately presented with a new and valuable apparatus for experimental philosophy. The whole library and apparatus was given by various persons, chiefly English. The General Assembly have endowed this College with large tracts of land, which, duly cultivated, will soon support the ample establishment of an university; but, even at present, I may truly say, Yale College exceeds the number, and perhaps the learning, of its scholars all over British America. This seminary was in 1717 removed from Saybrook to Newhaven; the extraordinary cause of its transition I shall here lay before the reader. Saybrook Dominion had been settled by Puritans of some moderation and decency. They had not joined with MassachusetsBay, Hertford, and Newhaven, in sending home agents to assist in the murder of Charles I. and the subversion of the Lords and Bishops; they had received Hookers heretics, and sheltered the apostate from Davenports millenarian system; they had shewn an inclination to be dependent on the Mother Country, and had not wholly anathematized the Church of England. In short, the people of Hertford and Newhaven suspected that Saybrook was not truly protestant; that it had a passion for the leeks and onions of Egypt; and that the youth belonging to them in the Schola Illustris were in great danger of imbibing its lukewarmness. A vote therefore passed at Hertford, to remove the College to Weathersfield, where the leeks and onions of Egypt would not be thought of; and another at Newhaven, that it should be removed to that town, where Christ had established his dominion from sea to sea, and where he was to begin his millenarian reign. About 1715 Hertford, in order to carry its vote into execution, prepared teams, boats, and a mob, and privately set off for Saybrook, and seized upon the College apparatus, library, and students, and carried all to Weathersfield. This redoubled the jealousy of the saints at Newhaven, who thereupon determined to fulfil their vote; and, accordingly, having collected a mob sufficient for the enterprise, they sat out for Weathersfield, where they seized by surprise the students, library, c. c. But, on the road to Newhaven, they were overtaken by the Hertford mob, who, however, after an unhappy battle, were obliged to retire with only a part of the library and part of the students. Hence sprung two colleges out of one. The quarrel increased daily, everybody expecting a war more bloody than that of Sassacus; and no doubt such would have been the case, had not the peacemakers of MassachusetsBay interposed with their usual friendship, and advised their dear friends of Hertford to give up the College to Newhaven. This was accordingly done in 1717, to the great joy of the crafty Massachusets, who always greedily seek their own prosperity, though it ruin their best neighbours. The College being thus fixed forty miles further west from Boston than it was before, tended greatly to the interest of Harvard College; for Saybrook and Hertford, out of pure grief, sent their sons to Harvard, instead of the College at Newhaven. This quarrel continued until 1764, when it subsided into a grand continental consociation of ministers, which met at Newhaven to consult the spiritual good of the Mohawks and other Indian tribes, the best method of preserving the American Vine, and the protestant, independent liberty of America: a good preparatory to the rebellion against Great Britain. The Rev. Mr. Naphtali Dagget is the fourth president of Yale College since its removal to Newhaven. He is an excellent Greek and Latin scholar, and reckoned a good Calvinistic divine. Though a stranger to European politeness, yet possessing a mild temper and affable disposition, the exercise of his authority is untinctured with haughtiness. Indeed, he seems to have too much candour and too little bigotry to please the corporation and retain his post many years. The Rev. Mr. Nehemiah Strong, the College professor, is also of an amiable temper, and merits the appointment. Were the corporation less rigid, and more inclined to tolerate some reasonable amusements and polite accomplishments among the youth, they would greatly add to the fame and increase of the College, and the students would not be known by every stranger to have been educated in Connecticut. The disadvantage under which they at present appear, from the want of address, is much to be regretted. Beauford, Guilford, and Milford, are much alike. Guilford is laid out in squares, after the manner of Newhaven, twenty of which are built upon. The church and two meetings stand in the centre square. One of the meetings is very grand, with a steeple, bell, and clock. The parishes in it are eight, three of them episcopal. This town gave birth to the Rev. Samuel Johnson, D. D., who was the first episcopal minister in Connecticut, and the first president of Kings College in NewYork. He was educated and became a tutor in the College at Saybrook, was an ornament to his native country, and much esteemed for his humanity and learning. The Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, in a sermon he preached in the great meeting, gave the character of the people of Guilford in 1740. His text was, Anoint mine eyes with eyesalve. After pointing out what was not the true eyesalve, he said: I will tell you what is the true eyesalve: it is faith, it is grace, it is simplicity, it is virtue. Ah, Lord! where can they be found! Perhaps not in this grand assembly. I have frequently quoted the Rev. George Whitefield, without that ludicrous intention which, possibly, the reader may suspect me of. I admire his general character, his good discernment, his knowledge of mankind, his piety, his goodness of heart, his generosity, and hatred of persecution, though I think his zeal was sometimes too fervent. I ever viewed him as an instrument of Heaven, as the greatest Boanerges and blessing America ever knew. He turned the profligate to God; he roused the lukewarm christian; he tamed the wild fanatic, and made Felix tremble. It is true, he has also made wise men mad; but this is the natural effect of the word, which is the savour of life and the savour of death at one and the same time. NewEngland before his coming was but the slaughterhouse of heretics. He was admired by the oppressed episcopalians, the trembling Quakers, the bleeding Baptists, c., c. He was followed by all sects and parties, except the Sober Dissenters, who thought their craft in danger. He made peace where was no peace, and even his enemies praised him in the gate. Whitefield did what could not have been done without the aid of an Omnipotent arm: he planted charity in NewEngland, of which the increase has been a thousandfold. He is lauded where the wicked cease from troubling; where his works of faith, love, and charity, clothe him; and where the glory of eternity blesses him with a welcome ineffably transporting. May his virtues be imitated, his imperfections forgiven, and his happiness obtained by all! Wallingford, Durham, Waterbury, and Derby, finish the County of Newhaven. Wallingford is the best of the four: it lies on the Quinnipiack River, and forms eight parishes, two of which are episcopal. The town street is one mile long, and the houses stand pretty thick on both sides. The church and two meetings, one with a steeple, bell, and clock, stand in the middle of the street. The gravestones point out the characters of the first settlers. An extract from one follows: Here lies the body of Corporal Moses Atwater, who left England in 1660, to enjoy the liberty of conscience in a howling wilderness. The second county in the Kingdom of Quinnipiog is Fairfield. It is situated west of Osootonoc River, and contains nine townships, five of which lie on the sea, and resemble one another; and on the back of them are situated four others, which also have a mutual resemblance. The soil is rich and uneven; the chief productions, excellent wheat, salt hay, and flax. Those townships which lie out on the sea are Fairfield, Norwalk, Stamford, Greenwich, and Stratford. This last I shall describe. Stratford lies on the west bank of the Osootonoc River, having the sea, or Sound, on the south; there are three streets running north and south, and ten east and west. The best is one mile long. On the centre square stands a meeting, with steeple and bell, and a church, with a steeple, bell, clock, and organ. It is a beautiful place, and from the water has an appearance not inferior to Canterbury. Of six parishes contained in it, three are episcopal. The people are said to be the most polite of any in the colony, owing to the singular moderation of the town in admitting latterly Europeans to settle among them. Many persons come also from the Islands and southern provinces for the benefit of their health. Here was erected the first episcopal church in Connecticut. A very extraordinary story is told concerning the occasion of it, which I shall give the reader the particulars of, the people being as sanguine in their belief of it as they are of the ships sailing over Newhaven. An ancient religious rite called the Powwow was annually celebrated by the Indians, and commonly lasted several hours every night for two or three weeks. About 1690 they convened to perform it on Stratford Point, near the town. During the nocturnal ceremony, the English saw, or imagined they saw, devils rise out of the sea, wrapped up in sheets of flame, and flying round the Indian camp, while the Indians were screaming, cutting, and prostrating themselves before their supposed fiery gods. In the midst of the tumult, the devils darted in among them, seized several and mounted with them in the air, the cries and groans issuing from whom quieted the rest. In the morning, the limbs of Indians, all shrivelled and covered with sulphur, were found in different parts of the town. Astonished and terrified at these spectacles, the people of Stratford began to think the devils would take up their abode among them, and called together all the ministers in the neighbourhood to exorcise and lay them. The ministers began and carried on their warfare with prayer, hymns, and abjurations; but the powwows continued, and the devils would not obey. The inhabitants were about to quit the town, when Mr. Nell spoke and said, I would to God Mr. Visey, the episcopal minister at NewYork, was here; for he would expel those evil spirits. They laughed at his advice; but on his reminding them of the little maid who directed Naaman to cure his leprosy, they voted him their permission to bring Mr. Visey at the next powwow. Mr. Visey attended accordingly; and as the powwow commenced with howling and whoops, Mr. Visey read portions of the holy scriptures, litany, c. The sea was put into great commotion; the powwow stopped; the Indians dispersed, and nevermore held a powwow in Stratford. The inhabitants were struck with wonder at this event, and held a conference to discover the reason why the devils and the powwowers had obeyed the prayers of one minister, and had paid no regard to those of fifty. Some thought the reading of the holy scriptures, others thought that the litany and Lords prayer, some again that the episcopal power of the minister, and others that all united, were the means of obtaining the heavenly blessing they had received. Those that believed that the holy scriptures and litany were effectual against the devil and his legions, declared for the Church of England; while the majority ascribed their deliverance to complot between the devils and the episcopal minister, with a view to overthrow Christs vine planted in NewEngland. Each party acted with more zeal than prudence. The Church, however, increased, though oppressed by more persecutions and calamities than were ever experienced by puritans from bishops and powwowers. Even the use of the Bible, the Lords prayer, the litany, or any part of the prayerbook was forbidden; nay, ministers taught from their pulpits, according to the Blue Laws, that the lovers of Zion had better put their ears to the mouth of hell and learn from the whispers of the devil, than read the bishops books; while the Churchmen, like Michael the archangel contending with the devil about the body of Moses, dared not bring against them a railing accusation. But this was not all. When the episcopalians had collected timber for a church, they found the devils had not left town, but only changed their habitationhad left the savages, and entered into fanatics and wood. In the night before the church was to be begun, the timber set up a countrydance, skipping about and flying in the air with as much agility and sulphurous stench as ever the devils had exhibited around the camp of the Indian powwowers. This alarming circumstance would have ruined the credit of the Church, had not the episcopalians ventured to look into the phenomena, and found the timber had been bored with augers, charged with gunpowder, and fired off by matchesa discovery, however, of bad consequence in one respect: it prevented the annalists of NewEngland from publishing this among the rest of their miracles. About 1720, the patience and sufferings of the episcopalians, who were then but a handful, procured them some friends even among their persecutors; and those friends condemned the cruelty exercised over the Churchmen, Quakers, and Anabaptists, in consequence of which they first felt the effects of those gentle weapons, the NewEngland whisperings and backbitings; at length were openly stigmatized as Armenians, and enemies of the American Vine. The conduct of the Sober Dissenters increased the grievous sin of moderation, and nearly twenty of their ministers, at the head of whom was Dr. Cutler, President of Yale College, declared, on a public commencement, for the Church of England. Hereupon the General Assembly and Consociation, finding their comminations likely to blast the American Vine, instantly had recourse to flattery, larded with tears and promises, by which means they recovered all the secessors but four, viz. Dr. Cutler, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Whitemore, and Mr. Brown, who repaired to England for holy orders. Dr. Cutler had the misfortune to spend his life and great abilities in the fanatical, ungrateful, factious town of Boston, where he went through fiery trials, shining brighter and brighter, till he was delivered from NewEngland persecution, and landed where the wicked cease from troubling. Dr. Johnson, from his natural disposition, and not for the sake of gain, took pity on the neglected church at Stratford, where for fifty years he fought the beast of Ephesus with great success.37 The Doctor was under the bountiful protection of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, incorporated by William III., to save from the rage of republicanism, heathenism, and fanaticism, all such members of the Church of England as were settled in our American colonies, factories, and plantations beyond the sea. To the foresight of that monarch, to the generous care and protection of that society, under God, are owing all the loyalty, decency, christianity undefiled with blood, which glimmer in NewEngland. Dr. Johnson having settled at Stratford among a nest of zealots, and not being assassinated, other dissenting ministers were induced to join themselves to the Church of England, among whom were Mr. Beach and Mr. Penderson. These gentlemen could not be wheedled off by the Assembly and Consociation; they persevered, and obtained names among the Literate that will never be forgotten. The four remaining towns of Fairfield County, viz. Newtown, Reading, Danbury, and Ridgfield, lie behind the towns on the sea. I shall describe the last of them, which is Danbury. It has much the appearance of Croydon, and forms five parishes, one of which is episcopal, and another Sandemanian; a third is called Bastard Sandemanian, because the minister refused to put away his wife, who is a second wife. The town was the residence, and is now the tomb, of the learned and ingenious Rev. Mr. Sandeman, well known to the literary world. He was the fairest and most candid Calvinist that ever wrote in the English language, allowing the natural consequences of all his propositions. He taught that a bishop must be the husband of one wifethat is, he must be married before he was ordainedand, if he lost his wife, he could not marry a second; that a bishop might dress with ruffles, a red coat, and sword; that all converted brothers and sisters, at their coming into the Church, ought to salute with an holy kiss; that all true christians would obey their earthly king: for which tenets, especially the last, the Sober Dissenters of Connecticut held him to be a heretic. It is strikingly remarkable, that near onehalf of the people of the Dominion of Newhaven are episcopalians, though it was first settled by the most violent of puritans, who claimed so much liberty to themselves that they left none for others. The General Assembly computed that the Church of England professors amounted to onethird of the whole colony in 1770. Hence has arisen a question, how it came to pass that the Church of England increased rapidly in Connecticut, and but slowly in MassachusetsBay and RhodeIsland? The reason appears obvious to me. It is easier to turn fanatical farmers from their bigotry than to convert fanatical merchants, smugglers, and fishermen. Pride and gain prevent the two first, and ignorance the last, from worshipping the Lord in the beauty of holiness. The General Assembly of RhodeIsland never supported any religion; nay, lest religion should chance to prevail, they made a law that every one might do what was right in his own eyes, with this proviso, that no one should be holden to pay a note, bond, or vote, made or given to support the Gospel. Thus barbarism, inhumanity, and infidelity, must have overrun the colony, had not its good situation for trade invited Europeans to settle therein. As to the people of MassachusetsBay, they, indeed, had the highest pretensions to religion; but then it was so impregnated with chicane, mercantile policy, and insincerity, that infidelity got the better of fanaticism, and religion was secretly looked upon as a trick of State. Connecticut was settled by a people who preferred the arts and sciences to the amusements which rendered Europe polite; whence it has happened that their boys and girls are at once amused and improved in reading, writing, and cyphering, every winters night, whilst those in the neighbouring colonies polish themselves at cards, balls, and masquerades. In Connecticut, zeal, though erroneous, is sincere; each sect believes religion to be a substantial good; and fanaticism and prejudice have turned it into superstition, which is stronger than reason or the law of humanity. Thus it was very observable, that when any persons conform to the Church of England, they leave neither their superstition nor zeal at the meetings; they retrench only fanaticism and cruelty, put on bowels of mercy, and pity those in error. It should be added, that every town in the colony is by law obliged to support a grammar school, and every parish an English school. From experience, therefore, I judge that superstition with knowledge and sincerity is more favourable to religion than superstition with ignorance and insincerity; and that it was for this reason the Church thrives in Connecticut, and exists only in NewEngland provinces. In further support of my opinion, I shall recite the words of Mr. George Whitefield, in his first tour through America in 1740. He found the people of Connecticut wise in polemical divinity, and told them much learning had made them mad; that he wished to leave them with sleep on and take your rest in the Bible, in Baxter, Gouge, and Bunyan, without the knowledge of Bishops books. Persons who supposed Churchmen in Connecticut possessed of less zeal and sincerity than the various sects among the dissenters, are under a mistake; for they have voluntarily preferred the Church under every human discouragement, and suffered persecution rather than persecute. Conducting themselves upon this truly christian though impolitic principle, they have, in the space of sixty years, humanized above sixty thousand puritans, who had ever been hating and persecuting one another; and though the General Assembly and Consociation are alarmed at the progress of christian moderation, yet many individuals among them, perceiving that persecution declines wherever the Church prevails, bless God for its growth; whilst the rest, more zealous for dominion and the politics of their ancestors the regicides than for the gospel of peace and love, compass sea and land to export and diffuse that intolerant spirit which overthrew the Eastern Church and has cursed the Western. For this purpose they have sent NewEngland ministers as missionaries to the southern colonies, to rouse them out of their religious and political ignorance; and, what is very astonishing, they succeeded best with the episcopal clergy, whose immorality, vanity, or love of selfgovernment, or some less valuable principle, induced them to join the dissenters of NewEngland, against an American bishop, from a pure intention, they said, of preserving the Church of England in America. If their reward be not pointed out in the fable of the Fox and Crane, they will be more fortunate than most men. Other missionaries were dispersed among the Six Nations of Indians, who were under the care of the clergy and schoolmasters of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. There, for a time, wonders were effected; the Indians were made drunk with zeal. But when their fanaticism was abated, they cursed the protestant religion, and ordered the ministers of all denominations to depart out of their country in a fixed time, on pain of death. Another band of saints went to NovaScotia to convert the unconverted, under the clergy appointed by the Bishop of London; among whom, however, meeting with little encouragement, they shook off the dust of their feet against them, and returned home. These peregrinations, the world was taught to believe, were undertaken solely to advance the interests of religion; but righteousness and peace have not yet kissed each other in NewEngland; and, besides, the pious pretences of the Sober Dissenters ill accord with their bitter revilings of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, for sending clergymen to promote the spiritual good of the Churchmen among them. It is worthy of especial notice, that, among all the episcopal clergy settled in Connecticut, only one of them has been accused, even by their enemies, of a scandalous life, or of any violation of moral law. They have exercised more patience, resignation, and selfdenial, under their various trials, fatigues, and oppressions, than can be paralleled elsewhere in the present century. The countenance of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and an allowance of 650l. per annum between eighteen of them, have proved the means of averting from the professors of the Church of England that rigour which has constantly marked the conduct of the General Assembly and Consociation towards Anabaptists, Quakers, c. c. Had the bishops shown as much concern for the welfare of the Church of England in America as the Society have done, they would have prevented many reproaches being cast upon them by the dissenters as hireling shepherds, and have secured the affections of the American clergy in every province to themselves, to the King, and the British Government. If the religion of the Church of England ought to have been tolerated and supported in America, (which, considering the lukewarmness of the bishops in general, even since the Restoration of Charles II., seems to have been a dubious point,) policy and justice long ago should have induced the King and Parliament of Great Britain to have sent bishops to America, that Churchmen at least might have been upon an equal footing with dissenters. Against American bishops I have never heard of any objections, either from the dissenters or the episcopal clergy south of the Delaware River, so powerful as the following: That the Church of England increases in America, without bishops, faster than it does in England, where are bishops to spare. If the dissenters in America err not in advancing, as a fact, that in 1715 the Church of England, under the bishops, had been upon the decline, and the protestant dissenters upon the increase, in England, it may be but natural to suppose that the dissenters in America wish to have the English bishops resident there, and the dissenters in England to retain them, as they appear to be so beneficial towards the growth of the dissenting interests here; and so the dissenters in both countries disputing about the residence of the bishops merely because the absence of them is disadvantageous to the one, and their presence advantageous to the other, would it not be the best way of strengthening the interest of both those parties, and weakening that of the Church of England, to retain half the bishops in England and send the other half to America? Against this plan, surely, no dissenter could object; it will neither add to the national expense nor to the disadvantage of England or America, since it promises to be equally serviceable to the protestant dissenting interest on both sides the Atlantic, and will reconcile a difference between the protestant dissenters, that has been supposen in NewEngland to be the reason of bishops not being sent to about one million episcopalians in America, who are left like sheep in a wilderness without a shepherd, to the great danger of the protestant dissenting religion in those parts. Nor can it be apprehended that this plan of dividing the bishops will meet with the disapprobation of the episcopalians, except a few licentious clergymen in the American southern colonies, who dread their lordships sober advice and coercive power. Of all the wonders of the English Church, the greatest is that the rulers of it should hold episcopacy to be an institution of Christ, and that the Gospel should be spread among all nations, and, at the same time, should refuse the American Churchmen a bishop, and the fanatics and heathen all opportunities of enjoying the Gospel dispensation in the purity and lustre with which it shines in the Mother Country. If bishops are necessary, let America have them; if they are not necessary, let them be extirpated from the face of the earth; for no one can be an advocate for their existence merely for the support of pomp, pride, and insolence, either in England or America. The English and Dutch have always kept their colonies under a state of religious persecution, while the French and Spanish have acted with generosity in that respect towards theirs. The Dutch presbyterians in NewYork were held in subordination to the Classis of Amsterdam, till, a few years since, they discovered that subjection to be anticonstitutional and oppressive; upon which a majority of the ministers in their ctus erected a classis for the ordination of ministers and the government of their churches, in defiance of the ecclesiastical judicatory of Amsterdam. Mr. Smith, in his history of that province, p. 252, justifies the schism upon the following ground: The expense, says he, attending the ordination of their candidates in Holland, and the reference of their disputes to the Classis of Amsterdam, is very considerable; and with what consequences the interruption of their correspondence with the European Dutch would be attended, in case of war, well deserves their consideration. Nevertheless, Mr. Smith agrees with his protestant dissenting neighbours, that the American episcopalians suffered no hardship in being obliged to incur the same expense in crossing the Atlantic for ordination. If the Dutch are justifiable in their schism, I cannot perceive why the American episcopalians might not be justified in a like schism from the bishops of London. Had the episcopalians as little aversion to schism as the protestant dissenters, the clergy north of the Delaware would, in 1765, have got rid of their regard of an English, and accepted of a Greek bishop, whom they could have supported for half the expense their candidates were at in going to England for ordination. But they were said by some to be conscientious men, while others said they were Issachars sons couching down beneath their burthens. To proceed in my description of the country: Connecticut is situated between 41 and 42 degrees of north latitude, and between 72 and 73 degrees 50 minutes west longitude from London. Notwithstanding, from this latitude, NewLondon lies 600 miles nearer the line than the capital of England, the winter sets in there a month before it does here, and not only continues longer, but is more severe. This extraordinary coldness is said by naturalists to arise from the vast frozen lakes and rivers, and mountains eternally covered with snow, throughout the northernmost parts of America. The mountains may have their share in producing this effect; but I am apt to think the lakes and rivers have a contrary influence. If I ask why lands bordering on them are three weeks earlier in their productions than lands ten miles distant, it will readily be imputed to the warmth of the air, occasioned by the reflection of the suns rays from the water. On the same principle, I argue that the rays of the sun, multiplied and reflected by ice also, will render the air warmer. But it may be further said, that the cause is perhaps to be ascribed to the soil being more sandy and loose near a lake or river, and, therefore, naturally warmer than that which is remote and not sandy. I reply, that there are loose, sandy plains, twenty miles off from any lake or river, three weeks later in their products, and very perceptibly colder, than lands upon them. It would be to no purpose to urge that the damps and fogs from unfrozen lakes, rivers, c. c. affect the distant but not the adjacent country; because I apprehend there are no unfrozen lakes and rivers in the north of America in winter. Besides, if there were, the mists arising from them would naturally be intercepted by the first mountains or forests they approached. But I pretend to little philosophical knowledge in these matters; I write from experience, and can thence, moreover, assert that mountains with snow upon them are not so cold as they would be without it; and that mountains covered with trees are the coldest of all places, but without trees are not so cold as forests or plains. I am clearly of opinion, therefore, that not the lakes or rivers, but the infinite quantity of timber in the immense regions of NorthAmerica, whether upon mountains or not, is the grand cause of the coldness of the winters in Connecticut. I will add, moreover, in support of my argument, that beasts, in the coldest weather, are observed to quit the woods and woody mountains for lakes, rivers, and cultivated open country; and that Connecticut, having lost most of its timber, is by no means so intensely cold in winter as it was forty years ago, and as Susquehanna is at present, a wilderness in the same latitude. The snow and ice commonly cover the country, without rains, from Christmas to March; then rains, attended with boisterous winds from the north and east, melt the snow, which converting brooks into rivers and rivers into seas, in four or five days the ice is rent from its groaning banks in such mighty sheets as it shakes the earth for twenty miles. Nature being thus in convulsions, the winds turn her fit into madness, by driving ice upon ice, whose thunders cease not till the ocean swallows up the whole. It is but natural to suppose that the summers in Connecticut are much hotter than those in England; nevertheless, from the clearness and serenity of the sky, the climate is healthy both to natives and foreigners of all nations. Connecticut is a hospital for invalids of the Islands and southern provinces; but, in general, they no sooner amend their own constitution, than the pestilence, which rages in that province, drives them to RhodeIsland or NewYork, where fanaticism is lost in irreligion. The people of Connecticut reckon time almost five hours later than the English. The longest day consists of fifteen hours, the shortest of nine. The brightness of the sun, moon, and stars, together with the reverberated rays on ice, snow, water, trees, mountains, pebbles, and flat stones, dazzle and weaken the eyes of the NewEnglanders to such a degree, that, in general, they are obliged to use glasses before they are fifty years of age. For the most part, also, they have bad teeth, which has been ascribed to the extreme heats and colds of summer and winter; but, as the Indians and negroes in the same climate have remarkably good teeth, it may be said, with great reason, that the many indulgences of the one, and the temperance of the other, and not the heats and colds, are the causes of good and bad teeth. Soil and Produce.The soil is various in different parts of the province: in some black, in others brown, and elsewhere red, but all rich. Some plains are sandy and of a whitish colour, and they produce rye, beans, and Indiancorn. The meadows and lowlands are excellent pasturage, and yield great crops of hay. The hills and uplands have a rich, deep soil, but are subject to droughts in July and August, which in many places are relieved by water drawn from rivers, ponds, and brooks, in troughs and ditches. The crops of European grain are always good, when the snow, which in general is the only manure, covers the earth from December to March. One acre generally yields from twenty to thirty bushels of wheat; of Indiancorn, from forty to sixty bushels on even land, and from thirty to forty on hilly land; but it is to be observed, that one bushel of it raised on hilly land weighs thirteen pounds more than a bushel raised on river land. All European grains flourish here, and the grass is as thick, and much longer than in England. Maize, or Indiancorn, is planted in hillocks three feet apart, five kernels and two pumpkinseeds in a hillock, and between the hills are planted ten beans in a hillock; so that, if the season prove favourable, the beans and the pumpkins are worth as much as the corn. If from an acre the crop of corn be twenty bushels, add the beans and pumpkins, and it will be equal to sixty bushels; so, if there be sixty bushels of corn, a proportionate growth of beans and pumpkins will render the product equal to one hundred and eighty bushels. One man plants an acre in a day; in three days he hoes the same three times; and six days more suffice for plowing and gathering the crop. For these ten days work the price is thirty shillings; and, allowing ten shillings for the use of the land, the whole expense is two pounds, and no more, while the corn is worth two shillings a bushel. The gain is seldom less than 300, and often 600 per cent. It is thus that the poor man becomes rich in a few years, if prudent and industrious. The limits of Connecticut are reckoned to comprise 5,000,000 acres, half of which is supposed to be swallowed up in rivers, ponds, creeks, and roads. The inhabitants are estimated at 200,000, so that there remains but twelve and a half acres for each individual. Let it now be considered that the people buy no provisions from other provinces, but, on the contrary, export full as much as they consume, and it will appear that each person has in fact only six and a quarter acres for his own support, two of which must be set apart for the growth of wood, the only fuel of the colony. Should I, then, not be justified in saying that Connecticut is as good and flourishing land as any part of Great Britain? The face of the country resembles Devonshire, Gloucestershire, Surrey, and Kent. The farmers divide their lands into four, five, and ten acres, with stone walls or post and rails. The roads from north to south are generally level and good; from east to west hilly, and bad for carriages. The various fruits are in greater perfection than in England. The peach and apple are more luscious, beautiful, and large; 1000 peaches are produced from one tree; five or six barrels of cider from one apple tree. Cider is the common drink at table. The inhabitants have a method of purifying cider by frost and separating the watery part from the spirit, which, being secured in proper vessels, and colored by Indiancorn, becomes in three months so much like Madeira wine, that Europeans drink it without perceiving the difference. They make peachy and perry, grape, cherry, and currant wines, and good beer of pumpkin, molasses, bran of wheat, spruce, and malt. The spruce is the leaves and limbs of the fir tree; their malt is made of maize, barley, oats, rye, chets, and wheat. The pumpkin, or pompion, is one of the greatest blessings, and held very sacred in NewEngland. It is a native of America. From one seed often grow forty pumpkins, each weighing from forty to sixty pounds, and, when ripe, of the colour of a marigold. Each pumpkin contains about 500 seeds, which, being boiled to a jelly, is the Indian infallible cure for the strangury. Of its meat are made beer, bread, custards, sauce, molasses, vinegar, and, on thanksgiving days, pies, as a substitute for what the Blue Laws brand as antichristian minced pies. Its skin, or shell, serves as a cap to cut the hair by, (as already mentioned,) and very useful lanthorns. There are no trees, grain, or fruits, growing in England but what will grow in Connecticut. The English oak has been thought much superior to the American. Whatever policy may be in this opinion, I will venture to say there is no truth in it in respect to the white oak in Connecticut, which is tough, close, hard, and elastic as the whalebone dried. The red, black, and chestnut oak are, indeed, much inferior to the white oak. The ash, elm, beech, chestnut, walnut, hazel, sassafras, sumach, maple, and butternut, are the chief timber trees of this province, and grow to an amazing bulk. The last is a native of America, and takes its name from a nut it produces, of the shape and size of a pullets egg, which contains a meat much larger than an English walnut, in taste like fresh butter; it also makes an excellent pickle. The butternut furnishes fine but tender boards; and its bark dyes black, and cures cutaneous disorders. In February this tree yields a sap, of which are made sugar, molasses, and vinegar. The upland maple also affords a sap equally good, and both saps make a pleasant beverage without boiling, and the best punch ever drank in Connecticut. Here are many iron mines, nay, mountains of iron ore; and, if they had been attended to with the same diligence as the farms, they would have supplied Great Britain with iron, to the great prejudice of Sweden and other European nations. For this commercial loss the inhabitants are indebted to their own quarrels, jealousy, and religious feuds, together with the intrigues of their neighbours. Some pig and bar iron they send, out of pure spite or folly, to NewYork and Boston, to be shipped for England by the merchants there, who always pay so much less for it as the duty on Swedish iron amounts to, so that Connecticut allows a duty to these merchants which they do not pay themselves. English, Barbary, and Dutch horses abound in this province; they are not so heavy, but more mettlesome and hardy than in England. Here are more sheep than in any two colonies in America; their wool also is better than that of the sheep in any of the other colonies, yet not so fine and good as the English. A common sheep weighs sixty pounds, and sells for a dollar, or 4s. 6d. The horned cattle are not so large as the English; yet there have been a few instances of oxen six years old weighing 1900 pounds each. The fat hogs here excel any in England; many weigh five or six hundred pounds. Connecticut pork is far superior to any other. There are only two small parks of deer in Connecticut, but plenty of rabbits, hares, grey, black, striped and red squirrels, otters, minks, raccoons, weasels, foxes, whapperknockers, woodchucks, cubas, and skunks. The following description of the four lastmentioned animals may be new to the reader: The whapperknocker is somewhat larger than a weasel, and of a beautiful brown colour. He lives in the woods on worms and birds; is so wild that no one can tame him, and, as he never quits his harbour in the daytime, is only to be taken by traps in the night. Of the skins of these animalswhich are covered with an exceedingly fine furare made muffs, at the price of thirty or forty guineas apiece; so that it is not without reason the ladies pride themselves on the possession of this small appurtenance of female habiliment. The woodchuck, erroneously called the badger by some persons, is of the size of a large raccoon, in form resembles a Guinea pig, and, when eating, makes a noise like a hog, whence he is named woodchuck, or chuck of wood. His legs are short, but his claws sharp, teeth strong, and courage great on occasions of selfdefence. He burrows in the earth, feeds on clover and pumpkin during summer, and sleeps all the winter. His flesh is good to eat, and his skin makes excellent leather. The cuba I suppose to be peculiar to NewEngland. The male is of the size of a large cat; has four long tushes sharp as a razor; he is very active in defending himself, and, if he has the first blow, will spoil a dog before he yields. His lady is peaceable and harmless, and depends for protection on her spouse, and, as he has more courage than prudence, always attends him to moderate his temper. She sees danger, and he fears it not. She chatters at him while he is preparing for battle, and, if she thinks the danger is too great, she runs to him and clings about his neck, screaming her extreme distress; his wrath abates, and by her advice they fly to their caves. In like manner, when he is chained, and irritated into the greatest rage by an impertinent dog, his lady, who is never chained, will fly about his neck and kiss him, and in half a minute restore him to calmness. He is very tender of his family, and never forsakes them till death dissolves their union. What further shows the magnanimity of this little animal, he never manifests the least anger towards his lady, though I have often seen her extremely loquacious, and, as I guessed, impertinent to him. How happy would the rational part of the creation become if they would follow the example of these irrational beasts! I the more readily suppose the cuba to be peculiar to NewEngland, not only from my never having yet seen the creature described, but also on account of its perverse observance of carnival and neglect of carme. The skunk is also peculiar to America, and very different from the polecat, which he is sometimes called. He is black, striped with white, and of the size of a small raccoon, with a sharp nose. He burrows in the earth like a fox, feeds like a fox on fowls and eggs, and has strong teeth and claws like a fox. He has long hair, and thick, good fur; is the beauty of the wilderness; walks slowly, and cannot run as fast as a man; he is not wild, but very familiar with every creature. His tail, which is shaggy and about one foot in length, he turns over his back at pleasure, to make himself appear larger and higher than he really is. When his tail is thus lying on his back he is prepared for war, and generally conquers every enemy that lives by air, for on this lies his only weapon: about one inch from his body or rump, in a small bladder or bag, which is full of essence, whose tint is of the brightest yellow, and odour somewhat like the smell of garlic, but far more exquisite and piercing than any volatile spirit known to chemists. One drop will scent a house to such a degree that musk, with the help of brimstone and tar burnt, will not expel it in six months. The bladder in which this essence lies is worked by the animal like an engine, pump, or squirt; and when the creature is assaulted, he turns his head from his enemy and discharges from his tail the essence, which fills the neighbouring air with a mist that destroys the possibility of living in it. I have seen a large housedog, by one discharge of the skunk, retire with shame and sickness; and, at another time, a bullock bellowing as if a dog had held him by the nose. Were it not for man, no creature could kill this animal, which, instead of the lion, ought to be crowned king of animals, as well on account of his virtues and complaisance as his courage. He knows his forte; he fears nothing, he conquers all; yet he is civil to all, and never gives, as he will not take, offence. His virtues are many. The wood of calambac, which cures faintingfits and strokes of the palsy, and is worth its weight in gold, is far less valuable than the abovementioned essence of this animal. The bag is extracted whole from the tail, and the essence preserved in glass; nothing else will confine it. One drop sufficiently impregnates a quart of spring water, and half a gill of water thus impregnated is a dose. It cures hiccups, asthmatic, hysteric, paralytic, and hectic disorders, and the odour prevents faintness. The flesh of this animal is excellent food, and its oil cures sprains and contractions of the sinews. The feathered tribe in Connecticut are the turkey, geese, ducks, and all kinds of barndoor poultry; innumerable flocks of pigeons, which fly to the south in the autumn; cormorants of all sizes; hawks, owls, ravens, and crows; partridges, quails, heathhen, blackbirds, snipes, larks, humilitys, whippoorwills, dewminks, robins, wrens, swallows, sparrows, the flax, crimson, white, and blue birds, c. c.; to which I may add the hummingbird, though it might wantonly be styled the empress of the honeybees, partaking with them of the pink, tulip, rose, daisy, and other aromatics. The partridges in NewEngland are nearly as large as a Dorking fowl, the quail as an English partridge, and the robin twice as big as those in England. The dewmink, so named from its articulating those syllables, is black and white, and the size of an English robin. Its flesh is delicious. The humility is so called because it speaks the word humility, and seldom mounts high in the air. Its legs are long enough to enable it to outrun a dog for a little way; its wings long and narrow; body maigre and of the size of a blackbirds; plumage variegated with white, black, blue, and red. It lives on tadpoles, spawn, and worms; has an eye more piercing than the falcon, and the swiftness of an eagle; hence it can never be shot, for it sees the sparks of fire even before it enkindles the powder, and by the extreme rapidity of its flight gets out of reach in an instant. It is never known to light upon a tree, but is always seen upon the ground or wing. These birds appear in NewEngland in summer only; what becomes of them afterwards is not discovered. They are caught in snares, but can never be tamed. The whippoorwill has so named itself by its nocturnal songs. It is also called the Pope, by reason of its darting with great swiftness from the clouds to the ground and bawling out Pope, which alarms young people and the fanatics very much, especially as they know it to be an ominous bird. However, it has hitherto proved friendly, always giving travellers and others notice of an approaching storm by saluting them every minute by Pope! pope! It flies only a little before sunset, unless for this purpose of giving notice of a storm: It never deceives the people with false news. If the tempest is to continue long, the augurs appear in flocks, and nothing can be heard but Pope! pope! The whippoorwill is about the size of a cuckoo, has a short beak, long and narrow wings, a large head, and mouth enormous, yet is not a bird of prey. Under its throat is a pocket, which it fills with air at pleasure, whereby it sounds forth the fatal word Pope in the day, and WhipherIwill in the night. The superstitious inhabitants would have exorcised this harmless bird long ago, as an emissary from Rome and an enemy to the American Vine, had they not found out that it frequents NewEngland only in the summer, and prefers the wilderness to a palace. Nevertheless, many cannot but believe it a spy from some foreign court, an agent of antichrist, a lover of persecution, and an enemy of protestants, because it sings of whipping, and of the Pope, which they think portends misery and a change of religion. The principal insects are the hornet, bullfly, glowbug, humblebee, and black and yellow wasp. The bullfly is armed with a coat of mail, which it can move from one place to another, as sliders to a window are moved. Its body is about an inch long, and its horns half an inch, very sharp and strong. It has six feet, with claws as sharp as needles, and runs fast. In sucking the blood or juice of its prey, the creature holds the same in its claws; otherwise the prey is carried between its horns. The glowbug both crawls and flies, and is about half an inch long. These insects fly, in the summer evenings, nearly seven feet from the ground, in such multitudes that they afford sufficient light for the people to walk by. The brightness, however, is interrupted by twinklings; but they are instantaneous and short as those of the eye, so that darkness no sooner takes place than it vanishes. The humblebee is almost as large as the hummingbird, but cannot fly near so fast. It builds its nest in the ground, where it makes a honeycomb of the size of a mans hand, and fills it with beesbread, wax, and honey, excelling that of the honeybee in taste. Two or three begun, and having shortly multiplied to about forty, the young ones leave home as soon as they can fly, to begin new settlements. These bees are wrongly named: they are warriors, and only want a quantity of poison to be more fatal than rattlesnakes. The honeybees can sting but once, while the humblebee will sting a thousand times. Their body is black and white; wings of a Doric colour; sight piercing, hearing quick, and temper cruel. Among the reptiles of Connecticut are the black, the water, milk, and streaked snakes, all harmless. The belled or rattlesnakes are large, and will gorge a common cat. They are seldom seen from their rocky dens. Their bite is mortal if not speedily cured; yet they are generous, and without guile; before they bite they rattle their bells three or four times, but after that their motion is swift and stroke sure. The Indians discovered and informed the English of a weed, common in the country, which, mixed with spittle, will extract the poison. The toads and frogs are plenty in the spring of the year. The treefrogs, whippoorwills, and whooping owls, serenade the inhabitants every night with music far excelling the harmony of the trumpet, drum, and jewsharp. The treefrog cannot be called an insect, a reptile, or one of the winged host; he has four legs, the two foremost short, with claws as sharp as those of a squirrel; the hindlegs five inches long, and folding by three joints. His body is about as big as the first joint of a mans thumb. Under his throat is a windbag, which assists him in singing the word Isaac all the night. When it rains, and is very dark, he sings the loudest. His voice is not so pleasing as that of the nightingale; but this would be a venial imperfection, if he would but keep silence on Saturday nights, and not forever prefer Isaac to Abraham and Jacob. He has more elasticity in his long legs than any other creature yet known. By this means he will leap five yards up a tree, fastening himself to it by his fore legs, and in a moment will hop or spring as far from one tree to another. It is from the singing of the treefrog that the Americans have acquired the name of Little Isaac. Indeed, like a certain part of them, the creature appears very devout, noisy, arbitrary, and phlegmatic, and associates with none but what agree with him in his ways. The oysters, clams, quauhogs, lobsters, crabs, and fish, are innumerable. The shad, bass, and salmon, more than half support the province. The sturgeon is made no use of. From the number of seines employed to catch the fish passing up to the lakes, one might be led to suppose the whole must be stopped; yet, in six months time they return to the sea with such multitudes of young ones as to fill Connecticut River for many days, and no finite being can number them. Population and Inhabitants.Connecticut, in proportion to its extent, exceeds every other colony of English America, as well in the abundance of people as in cultivation of soil. The number of the first settlers at Saybrook, in 1634, was 200; in 1636, at Hertford, 106; in 1637, at Newhaven, 157; in all, 463. In 1670 the residents of these three settlements amounted to 15,000, of whom 2000 were men capable of bearing arms; the rest old men, women, and children. In 1680 the residents were 20,000; in 1770, 200,000. Hence it appears that the people of Connecticut did, during the 90 years, double their number ten times over. Should the 200,000 which existed in Connecticut in 1770 double their number in the same manner for the ensuing 90 years, the province will, in the year 1860, contain 2,000,000; and if the fighting men should then be in the same proportion to the rest of the inhabitants as they were in 1670, they will amount to no less than 266,000. I see no reason in Nature why it may not be so. Since 1670, emigration from Europe, or elsewhere, to Connecticut, has been trifling, in comparison to the emigration from Connecticut to NewJersey, Newhampshire, MassachusetsBay, NovaScotia, c. Manufactures.The inhabitants manufacture coarse and fine flannels, linen, cotton and woollen cloths, woollen stockings, mittens, and gloves, for their own use; they spin much cotton and flax, and make common and the best kind of beaver hats. Shipbuilding is a great branch of business in Connecticut, which is carried on much cheaper than in Europe, by means of sawmills worked by water. The planks are cut by a gang of ten or twelve saws, more or less, as occasion requires, while the carriage is backed but once. Great part of the shiptimber is also cut by water. Anchormaking is done by water and triphammers, without much fatigue to the workmen. Distilling and papermaking increase every year. Here are many ropewalks, which want neither hemp nor flax; and formerly here were rolling and slitting works, but they have been suppressed by an act of Parliament, to the ruin of many families. Commerce.The exports of Connecticut consist chiefly of all sorts of provisions, pig and bar iron, pot and pearl ashes, staves, lumber, boards, iron pots and kettles, anchors, planks, hoops, shingles, live cattle, horses, c. c. To what amount these articles are annually exported, may be judged from the following very low estimate: Pork 98,750l. Beef 100,000 Mutton 5,000 Horses 40,000 Wheat 340,000 Butter, cheese, rye, oats, onions, tobacco, cider, maize, beans, fowls, eggs, tallow, and hides 90,000 Ships anchors, cables, cordage, pig and bar iron, pots, kettles, pot and pearl ashes, boards, and lumber 250,000  918,750l. besides hay, fish, c. c. The salmon, large and small, are exported both pickled and dried. In the above statement of exports I have allowed only for horses bred in the colony, and not for those brought for exportation from Canada and other northern parts, which are very numerous. The calculation of the wheat, the common price of which is three shillings sterling per bushel, is founded upon the allowed circumstance of the exportation being equal to the consumption, viz. 2,600,000 bushels among 200,000 persons, according to the acknowledged necessary portion of thirteen bushels to one person. The pork is estimated according to the reputed number of houses in the province, viz. 30,000, allowing one and a quarter barrels for each house, at 2l. 10s. per barrel. The imports in 1680, when the number of inhabitants was 20,000, amounted to 10,000l., i. e. at the rate of 10s. for each individual. Supposing the increase of imports only to keep pace with that of the people, they would, in 1770, when the province contained 200,000 souls, amount to 100,000l.; but I believe that to be not above onequarter of their value. Boston, NewYork, and Newport, have the greatest share of the exports of Connecticut, and pay for them in English or Dutch goods at cent. per cent. profit to themselves, upon a moderate computation. What few of them are sent from the colony to the West Indies, are paid for honourably in rum, molasses, sugar, salt, brandy, cotton, and money. Consequences very prejudicial attend the commerce of Connecticut, thus principally carried on through the medium of the neighbouring colonies. I will here point out one material instance: Connecticut pork, a considerable article of exportation, excels all others in America, and fetches a halfpenny per pound more. Of this difference in the price the merchants in NewYork, Boston, c. have taken care to avail themselves, by mixing their own inferior pork with that of Connecticut, and then selling the whole at the full price of the latter. This fair dealing was managed thus: The pork of Connecticut was packed up in barrels, each of which, according to statute regulations, must weigh 220 lbs. and contain not more than six legs and three half heads. The packer is to mark the barrel before it is shipped, and is liable to a heavy punishment if there should be found four half heads and seven legs in the barrel when it is delivered for exportation. But of large pork, two legs and half a head will be a sufficient proportion of those parts in a barrel. This gives the NewYork and Bostonian merchants an opportunity of taking out the best part of the Connecticut pork, and substituting in its place an equal weight of their own, whereby it often happens that four legs and two half heads are found in a barrel of reputed Connecticut pork. Though it then remains a barrel according to the statute, it cannot but be supposed that the practice must greatly hurt the credit of Connecticut pork with all who are not apprised that it passes through the renounded provinces of MassachusetsBay and NewYork. The people of Connecticut have long been sensible of the many great impositions and disadvantages which beset their commercial system; yet, though sufficient power is in their own hands, they have no inclination or resolution to attempt a reformation of it. The reason is, the mutual animosities and rancour subsisting between the dominions of NewLondon, Hertford, and Newhaven, each of which prefers the general ruin of the province to a coalition upon any terms short of conquest. The seeds of this discord were thus sown by these two insidious neighbours. The port of NewLondon is by far the best in the province, and extremely well calculated for its capital and grand commercial emporium; and about fifty years since, a number of merchants there began to export and import goods, seemingly to the satisfaction of the whole colony, but to the great displeasure and chagrin of those of NewYork and Boston, whom it threatened with ruin. Something was necessary to be done. The poor Bostonians, according to custom, privately sent for their faithful allies at Hertford, to infuse into them an idea that their town ought to be the capital, and not NewLondon, which belonged to the Dominion of Sassacus, who had murdered so many christians; adding that, if they would engage in such an attempt in favour of Hertford, the Boston merchants would supply them with goods cheaper than they could buy them at NewLondon. The good people at Hertford, forgetting their river was frozen for five months in the year, remembering how they had obtained their Charter, hating Sassacus, and loving self, immediately gave in to the designing Bostonians suggestions, and refused to receive any more goods from NewLondon. The friendly Mynheers of NewYork played off a similar trick upon Newhaven, and promised to support that town as the capital of the colony. The plots succeeded. Contentions and quarrels arose among the three parties, the effects of which remain to this day. The merchants of NewLondon were obliged to quit Connecticut, and the trade of the province was chiefly divided between NewYork and Boston, at cent. per cent. disadvantage to an illnatured colony, and at the same time advantage to its cunning neighbours. When party spirit yields to selfinterest, NewLondon will again become the emporium of Connecticut, where merchants will settle and import goods from foreign countries at 35l. per cent. extra profit to the consumers, and 15l. per cent. extra profit to themselves, and withal save as much in the exports from Connecticut, by taking the full price and bounty of its goods at foreign markets, instead of yielding the same to the people of NewYork and Boston, who have too long kept 200,000 as negroes on their own farms, to support twice 20,000 artful citizens. Thus has Connecticut, by contention and folly, impoverished and kept in obscurity the most fruitful colony in America, to support the fame and grandeur of Boston and NewYork among the trading nations of Europe. When I view the less fertile soil of Boston, the conscience of merchants, the pride of the pretended Gospel ministers, the blindness of bigotry, and the mercantile ignorance of farmers, I forgive Boston, NewYork, and RhodeIsland, but condemn Connecticut. I will leave a legacy to the people of my native country, which possibly may heal their divisions, and render them partial to their own province, as the Bostonians are to theirs. It consists of two lines: But if men knaves and fools will be, Theyll be assridden by all three. Revenue and Expenditure.In 1680 the whole corporation were estimated to be worth 120,000l. They had 30 small vessels, 26 churches, and, as above mentioned, 20,000 inhabitants. If their value had increased only in proportion with the inhabitants, who, as I have said, amounted to 200,000 in 1770, the corporation would then have been worth no more than 1,200,000l., a sum not equal to 10s. per acre, though in a great measure cultivated, and surrounded with stone walls which alone cost 10s. by the rod; but in that year, viz. 1770; land sold in Connecticut from 4l. to 50l. per acre; their vessels, also, had increased to about 1200, and the churchesleast in proportionto about 300. The true method, therefore, of forming the valuation of Connecticut in 1770, is not by calculating upon this State in 1680, but by estimating the number of its acres, appreciating them by purchases then made, and adding a due allowance for the stock, c. Now, Connecticut has been reputed to contain 2,500,000 solid acres, which, at the very moderate price of 8l. each, are worth 20,000,000l. sterling; and 14,000,000l. being added as a reasonable allowance for stock, shipping, c. the whole valuation of Connecticut would amount to 34,000,000l. The annual income, supposing the 2,500,000 acres and stock rented at 10s. per acre, one with another, would be 1,250,000l. A list of rateables, called the General List, is the foundation upon which the revenue is raised in Connecticut, being the valuation of a mans property by the year. It is formed in the following manner: One acre of land, per annum 0l. 10s. One horse 3 00 One house 3 00 One ox 3 00 One swine 1 00 One cow 3 00 One twoyearold heifer 2 00 One yearling do. 1 00 One poll or male, between 16 and 60 years 18 00 One lawyer for his faculty 20 00 One vessel of 100 tons 10 00  65l. 10s. Every person annually gives his list, specifying the property he possesses, to the selectmen, who send the sum total of each town to the General Assembly, when a tax of one shilling, more or less, according to public exigencies, is imposed on each pound. According to the general list of the colony for 1770, I have underrated its annual worth, which then was fixed at 2,000,000l.; for, though that list includes the polltax of 18l. per head for all males above sixteen and under sixty years of age, the faculty tax, and the tax on shipping, all which may amount to 600,000l., there nevertheless remains a surplus of 150,000l. above my calculation. But, supposing a tax of one shilling in the pound (the common colonial assessment) on 1,250,000l., the produce will be 62,500l., exclusive of the poll, faculty, and other taxes. Small, however, as this assessment is, it has never been collected without much difficulty and clamour; yet the people lose, by trading with Boston, NewYork, and Newport, in exports and imports, 600,000l. annually; and that for nothing but to oblige the traders of those towns, and disoblige one another. The annual expenditure of the colony is as follows: Salary of Governor 300l. 00s.  LieutenantGovernor 150 00  Treasurer 150 00  Secretary 150 00  the twelve assistants in Council with the Governor 800 00  146 Representatives 2,500 00  300 Ministers, 100l. each 30,000 00 Allowance for contingencies 28,450 00  Total 62,500l. 00s. The abovementioned list of the colony, including the polltax, c. would afford 32,500l. more for contingencies. Religion and Government.Properly speaking, the Connectitensians have neither, nor ever had; but, in pretence, they excel the whole world, except Boston and Spain. If I could recollect the names of the multifarious religious sects among them, it might afford the reader a pleasant idea of the prolific invention of mankind. I shall mention a few of the most considerable, specifying the number of their congregations: CONGREGATIONS. Episcopalians 73 Scotch presbyterians 1 Sandemanians 3 Ditto Bastard 1 Lutherans 1 Baptists 6 Seventhday ditto 1 Quakers 4 Davisonians 1 Separatists 40 Rogereens 1 Bowlists 1 Old Lights 80 New Lights 87  300 An account of some of these sects is to be found in the history of Munster; but the Bowlists, Separatists, and Davisonians are peculiar to the colony. The first allow of neither singing nor prayer; the second permit only the elect to pray; and the third teach universal salvation, and deny the existence of a hell or devils. The presbyterians and episcopalians are held by all to be the enemies of Zion and the American Vine; nay, the former are even worse hated than the Churchmen, because they appear to be dissenters, and are not genuine enemies to episcopacy, but hold the truth in unrighteousness. Some travellers have called the fanatical sects of Connecticut by the general name of Legionists, because they are many; and others have called them Pumguntums, Cantums, c. because they groan and sing with a melancholy voice their prayers, sermons, and hymns. This disgusting tone has utterly excluded oratory from them; and did they not speak the English in greater perfection than any other of the Americans, few strangers would disoblige them with their company. Their various systems are founded upon those of Peters, Hooker, and Davenport, of which I have already spoken; yet the modern teachers have made so many newfangled refinements in the doctrine and discipline of those patriarchs, and of one another, as render their passions for ecclesiastical innovation and tyranny equally conspicuous. But the whole are enveloped with superstition, which here passes for religion, as much as it does in Spain, France, or among the savages. I will instance that of an infant, in 1761. Some children were piling sandheaps in Hertford, when a boy, only four years old, hearing it thunder at a distance, left his companions and ran home to his mother, crying out, Mother, mother, give me my book, for I heard God speaking to me! His mother gave him his book, and he read A, B, C, D, c.; then gave up his book, saying, Here, mother, take my book; I must go to my sandhouses: now I am not afraid of all the thunder and lightning in the world. As to their government, we may compare it to the regularity of a mad mob in London, with this exception: the mob acts without law, and the colonists by law. They teach that legal righteousness is not saving grace. Herein they are right; but it appears they believe not their own doctrine, for legal righteousness is their only shield and buckler. In January County Court, at Hertford only, 1768, there were about 3000 suits on the docket; and there are four of these courts in a year, and perhaps never less suits at a court than 2000. In the course of this work my readers must necessarily have observed, in some degree, the ill effects of the democratical constitution of Connecticut. I would wish them to imagine, for I feel myself unable adequately to describe, the confusion, turbulence, and convulsion arising in a province where not only every civil officer, from the governor to the constables, but also every minister, is appointed as well as paid by the people, and faction and superstition are established. The clergy, lawyers, and merchants or traders, are the three efficient parties which guide the helm of the government. Of these, the most powerful is the clergy, and, when no combinations are formed against them, they may be said to rule the whole province; for they lead the women captive, and the women the men; but when the clergy differ with the lawyers and merchants, the popular tide turns. In like manner, when the clergy and lawyers contend with the merchants, it turns against these; and is the same when the clergy and merchants unite against the lawyers. This fluctuation of power gives a strange appearance to the body politic at large. In Hertford, perhaps, the clergy and merchants are agreed, and prevail; in Weathersfield, the clergy and lawyers; in Middletown, the lawyers and merchants; and so on, again and again, throughout the colony. Thus the General Assembly becomes an assembly of contending factions, whose different interests and pursuits it is generally found necessary mutually to consult in order to produce a sufficient coalition to proceed on the business of the State.Vos ipsos pseudopatres patri, veluti in speculo aspicite?Sometimes, in quarrels between the merchants and lawyers of a particular parish, the minister is allowed to stand neuter; but, for the most part, he is obliged to declare on the one side or the other; he then, remembering from whence he gets his bread, espouses that which appears to be the strongest, whether it be right or wrong, and his declaration never fails to turn the adverse party.En rabies vulgi!I must beg leave to refer my readers to their own reflections upon such a system of government as I have here sketched out. The historians of NewEngland boast much of the happiness all parties there enjoy in not being subject, as in England, to sacramental test by way of qualification for preferment in the State; on which account, with peculiar propriety, it might be called a free country. The truth is, there never has been occasion for such a testact. The Assemblies never appointed any, because the magistrates are annually chosen by the people, of whom the far greater part are church members; and this churchmembership, in its consequences, destroys all liberty in a communicant, who is necessitated to swear to promote the interests of that church he is a member of, and is duly informed by the minister what that interest is. The minister is the eye of conscience to all freemen in his parish, and tells them that they will perjure themselves if they give their votes to an episcopalian, or any person who is not a member of the Church of the Sober Dissenters. Those freemen dare not go counter to the ministers dictate, any more than a true Mussulman dare violate the sacred law of Mahomet. What need, then, is there of a civil test, when a religious test operates much more powerfully, and will ever keep Churchmen, Separatists, Quakers, Baptists, and other denominations from governmental employments in Connecticut, and confine them to the Old and New Lights; whilst the test act in England prevents no dissenter from holding any civil or military commission whatsoever? Upon this subject Mr. Neal has exerted himself in so signal a manner, that he ought to be styled the Champion of NewEngland. He represents that there were two State factions in NewEngland: the one out of place he calls spies and malcontents, chiefly because they had no share in the government. He adds, p. 615: I can assure the world that religion is no part of the quarrel; for there is no sacramental test for preferment in the State.Many people in NewEngland have not been able to assign a reason for Mr. Neals choosing to hide one truth by telling another, viz. that there was no statute in NewEngland to oblige a man to receive the sacrament among the Sober Dissenters as a qualification for civil office. This assertion is really true; and when Mr. Neal speaks a truth, he, above all men, ought to have credit for it. But Mr. Neal well knew it to be the truth, also, that no man could be chosen a corporal in the trainband unless he was a member of the Church of the Sober Dissenters, because then every voter was subject to a religious test of the Synod or Consociation. Mr. Neal, indeed, seems to think that a civil test is heresy itself, but that a religious test is liberty, is gospel, and renders all parties of christians in NewEngland easya happy people. The reason, however, of his muffling truth with truth, was, he wrote for the Old Lights and against the New Lights for hire; the New Lights being the minority, and out of place in the State. Those two sects differed about the coercive power of the civil magistrate. The Old Lights held that the civil magistrate was a creature framed on purpose to support ecclesiastical censure with the sword of severity; but the New Lights maintained that the magistrate had no power or right to concern himself with Church excommunication, and that excommunication was all the punishment any one could undergo in this world, according to the rules of the Gospel. These were, and always have been, two great articles of faith in NewEngland; nevertheless, Mr. Neal says he can assure the world that religion is no part of the quarrel. I hope Mr. Neal did not mean to quibble, as the NewEnglanders generally do, by Jesuitism, viz. that religion is peaceable and admits not of quarrels; and yet, if he did not, he meant not a full representation of the matter, for he well knew that the difference in respect to the intent and power of the magistrates was a religious point, and formed the partition wall between the Old and New Lights. The civilians and magistrates were too wise to countenance the New Lights, who promised little good to them; while the Old Lights gave them a power of punishing, even unto death, those whom they had anathematized, and who would not submit to their censures by penitence and confession. The Old Lights, in short, supported the practice of the inquisitors of Spain and Archbishop Laudthe ostensible occasion of their ancestors flying from England to the wilderness of America. But Mr. Neal contented not himself with one mistake; he added, that the people of NewEngland are a dutiful and loyal people. They never merited this character, and they always had too much honesty and religion to claim it. From the first they have uniformly declared, in Church and State, that America is a new world, subject to the people residing in it, and that none but enemies of the country would appeal from their courts to the King in Council. They never have prayed for any earthly king by name. They have always called themselves republicans, and enemies to kingly government, to temporal and spiritual lords. They hate the idea of a Parliament, consisting of King, Lords, and Commons; they declare that the three branches should be but one, the king having only a single vote with the other members. Upon this point they have always quarrelled with the governors. They never have admitted one law of England to be in force among them till passed by their assemblies. They have sent agents to fight against the kings of England. They deny the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London, which extends over America by a royal patent. They hold Jesus to be the only King, whom if they love and obey they will not submit, because they have not submitted, to the laws of the King of Great Britain. Mr. Neal, furthermore, professes his want of conception why the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts should send missionaries into NewEngland, when Oliver Cromwell had, in 1640, instituted a society to propagate christian knowledge there. Mr. Neal might have learnt the cause of this phenomenon from the charter granted to the firstmentioned society by King William III., who was a friend to civil and christian liberty, and who endeavoured to suppress the intolerable persecutions in his days prevailing in NewEngland. But, besides, Mr. Neal could not but know that there were many Churchmen in NewEngland desirous of the use of the liturgy and discipline of the English Church; and for what reason should they not have ministers of their own persuasion, as well as the sober and conscientious dissenters? I hope my readers will not think me a partial advocate for the Church of England, which, perhaps, has lost the opportunity of civilizing, christianizing, and moderating the burning zeal of the dissenters of NewEngland, who were honest in their religion merely by the sinful omission of not sending a bishop to that country, who would have effected greater things among them than an army of 50,000 men. I avow myself to be liberalminded towards all sects and parties; and, if I had power, I would convert all sorts of ministers into popes, cardinals, prelates, dominies, potent presbyters, and rich Quakers, that the world might be excused from hearing again of preaching, defamation, insurrections, and spiritual jurisdictions, which result more from pride, poverty, avarice, and ambition, than the love of peace and christianity. It has been said by the deists, and other politicians, that ministers, by preaching, have done more hurt than good in the christian world. If the idea will hold in any part it will be in NewEngland, where each sect preaches, for Gospel, policy and defamation of its neighbour; whence the lower classes think that christianity consists in defending their own peculiar Church and modes, and subverting those of others, at any rate; while the higher ranks value religion and the Gospel as laws of a foreign country, and the merchants powwowers, subtle, cruel, and greedy of riches and dominion over all people. For this reason the savages have taken an aversion to the protestant religion, and they say they would rather follow Hobbomockow and the Roman priests than NewEngland christians, who persecute one another, and killed their ancestors with a pocky Gospel. With scorn they cry out: We value not your Gospel, which shews so many roads to Kicktang; some of them must be crooked, and lead to Hobbomockow. We had, therefore, better continue Indians like our ancestors, or be Catholics, who tell us of only one way to Kicktang, or the invisible God. Laws.A stranger in the colony, upon hearing the inhabitants talk of religion, liberty, and justice, would be induced to believe that the christian and civil virtues were their distinguishing characteristics; but he soon finds his mistake in fixing his abode among them. Their laws grind the poor, and their religion is to oppress the oppressed. The polltax is unjust and cruel. The poor man is compelled to pay for his bread eighteen shillings per annum, work four days on the highways, serve in the militia four days, and pay three shillings for his hut, without a window in it. The best house and richest man in the colony pays no more! The law is pretended to exempt episcopalians, Anabaptists, Quakers, and others, from paying rates to the Sober Dissenters, but, at the same time, gives the Sober Dissenters power to tax them for minister, school, and town rates, by a general quota; and no law or court can put asunder what the town has joined together. The law also exempts from paying to Sober Dissenters all Churchmen who live so near that they can and do attend Church. But hence, if a man is sick, and does not attend more than twentysix Sabbaths in a year, he becomes legally a Sober Dissenter; and if the meeting lies between him and the Church, he does not live so near the Church that he can attend, because it is more than a Sabbathdays journey, and therefore unnecessary travel.38 The law provides whipping, stocks, and fines, for such as do not attend public worship on the Sabbath. The Grand Jury complains, and the Justice inflicts the punishment. This has been the practice for many years. About 1750, Mr. Pitt, a Churchman, was whipped for not attending meeting. Mr. Pitt was an old man. The episcopal clergy wrote to England, complaining of this cruel law. The Governor and Council immediately broke the Justice who punished Mr. Pitt, and wrote to the Bishop of London that they had done so as a mark of their disapprobation of the Justices conduct, and knew not what more they could do. This apology satisfied the Bishop, and the next year the Governor and Council restored the Justice to his office; however, Quakers and Anabaptists only were whipped afterwards. Formerly, when a Sober Dissenter had a suit in law against a Churchman, every juryman of the latter persuasion was by the Court removed from the jury and replaced by Sober Dissenters. The reasons assigned for this extraordinary conduct was, that justice and impartiality might take place. The episcopalians, Quakers, and other sects not of the Sober Dissenters, were not admitted to serve as jurymen in Connecticut till 1750. Such of them whose annual worth is rated at not less than 40l. in the general list, have enjoyed the liberty of voting for civil officers a much longer term; but for parish concerns they are still totally excluded. Other laws I have occasionally animadverted upon in the course of this work; and a specimen of the Blue Laws, and of various courts, is inserted. Nothing can reflect greater disgrace upon the colony than the number of suits in all the County Courts, amounting in the whole to between 20 and 30,000 annually; the greater part of which are vexatiously commenced from expectations grounded upon the notorious instability of the judges opinions and decisions. The spirit of litigation which distracts the province in general is, however, a blessing to the judges and lawyers. The court has one shilling for every action called, and twenty shillings for those that come to trial; and the fee to each lawyer is twenty shillings, whether the action be tried or not, besides various other expenses. There are as many suits of conscience before the justices of the peace, and ministers, and deacons; so that the sum annually expended in law in the whole colony is amazing. It was not without reason, therefore, that the judges, the lawyers, the ministers and deacons, the sheriffs and constables, opposed the stampact with all their might. They told the people that, if this act took place, their liberties would be destroyed, and they would be tried by Kings judges without jury. The singular nature of some of the suits entitles them to particular notice. When the ice and flood prevail in the great river Connecticut, they frequently carry off large pieces of ground on one side, and carry them over to the other. By this means the river is every year changing its bed, to the advantage of some persons and the disadvantage of others. This has proved the source of perplexing lawsuits, and will most likely continue to produce the same effects so long as the demiannual assemblies remain in the colony; for the judgment of the Assembly in May is rescinded by that in October, and so vice versa. Thus a lawsuit in Connecticut is endless, to the ruin of both plaintiff and defendant. The County and Superior Courts, also, in different years give different judgments; and the reason is the popular constitution of the colony, whereby different parties prevail at different times, each of whom carefully undoes what the others have done. Thus the glorious uncertainty of the law renders the possession of property in Connecticut extremely precarious. The question, however, touching the lands being removed from place to place by the floods and ice, requires the skill of both juries and casuists. The most simple case of the kind that has been communicated to me is the following: A piece of land belonging to A., in Springfield, with a house, c. standing upon it, was removed by the flood to another town, and settled on land belonging to W. A. claimed his house and land, and took possession of them; whereupon W. sued A. for a trespass, and the court ejected A. But A. afterward obtained a revision of the judgment; when W. again sued A., and got a decree that A. should remove his own land off from the land of W., or pay W. for his land. Further litigation ensued, both parties pleading that the act of God injured no man according to the English law. The judges said that the act of God in this case equally fell upon A. and W. The dispute rests in statu quo, the jurisprudence of Connecticut not having yet taught mankind what is just and legal in this important controversy. Supposing the flood had carried A.s ship or raft on W.s land, the ship or raft would still belong to A., and W. could recover damages; but then A. must take away his ship or raft in a reasonable time. Yet, in the case where an island, or point of land, is removed by the waters, or an earthquake, upon a neighbouring shore, Q. Ought not the islanders to keep possession of the superficies? This may be a new case in Europe. Manners and Customs.Gravity and serious deportment, together with shyness and bashfulness, generally attend first communications with the inhabitants of Connecticut; but after a short acquaintance they become very familiar, and inquisitive about news. Who are you? whence come you? where going? what is your business? and what your religion? They do not consider these, and similar questions, impertinent, and consequently expect a civil answer. When the stranger has satisfied their curiosity, they will treat him with all the hospitality in their power, and great caution must be observed to get quit of them and their houses without giving offence. If the stranger has cross and difficult roads to travel, they will go with him till all danger is past, without fee or reward. The stranger has nothing to do but civilly say, Sir, I thank you, and will call upon you when I return. He must not say, God bless you, or I shall be glad to see you at my house, unless he is a minister; because they hold that the words God bless you should not be spoken by common people; and I shall be glad to see you at my house they look upon as an insincere compliment, paid them for what they do out of duty to the stranger. Their hospitality is highly exemplary; they are sincere in it, and reap great pleasure by reflecting that, perhaps, they have entertained angels. The Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, in one of his sermons, gave them the following character: I have found, said he, the people of Connecticut the wisest of any upon the continent; they are the best friends and the worst enemies; they are hairbrained bigots on all sides, and they may be compared to the horse and mule, without bit and bridle. In other colonies I have paid for food and lodging, but could never spend one penny in fruitful Connecticut, whose banks flow with milk and honey, and whose sons and daughters never fail to feed and refresh the weary traveller, without money and without price. On Saturday evenings the people look sour and sad; on the Sabbath they appear to have lost their dearest friends, and are almost speechless; they walk softly; they even observe it with more exactness than did the Jews. A Quaker preacher told them, with much truth, that they worshipped the Sabbath, and not the God of the Sabbath. These hospitable people, without charity, condemned the Quaker as a blasphemer of the holy Sabbath, fined, tarred, and feathered him, put a rope about his neck, and plunged him into the sea; but he escaped with life, though he was about seventy years of age. In 1750 an episcopal clergyman, born and educated in England, who had been in holy orders above twenty years, once broke their sabbatical law by combing a discomposed lock of hair on the top of his wig; at another time, for making a humming noise, which they called whistling; at a third time, by walking too fast from church; at a fourth, by running into church when it rained; at a fifth, by walking in his garden and picking a bunch of grapes: for which several crimes he was complained of by the Grand Jury, had warrants granted against him, was seized, brought to trial, and paid a considerable sum of money. At last, overwhelmed with persecution and vexation, he cried out: No Briton, nay, no Jew, should assume any public character in Connecticut till he has served an apprenticeship of ten years in it; for I have been here seven years, and strictly observed the Jewish law concerning the Sabbath, yet find myself remiss in respect to the perfect law of liberty! The people are extremely fond of strangers passing through the colony, but very averse to foreigners settling among them; which few have done without ruin to their characters and fortunes, by detraction and lawsuits, unless recommended as men of grace by some known and revered republican protestant in Europe. The following story may be amusing: An English gentleman, during a short residence in a certain town, had the good luck to receive some civilities from the Deacon, Minister, and Justice. The Deacon had a daughter, without beauty, but sensible and rich. The Briton (for that was the name he went by), having received a present from the WestIndies of some pineapples and sweetmeats, sent his servant with part of it to the Deacons daughter, to whom, at the same time, he addressed a complimentary note, begging Miss would accept the pineapples and sweetmeats, and wishing he might be able to make her a better present. Miss, on reading the note, was greatly alarmed, and exclaimed, Mamma, mamma! Mr. Briton has sent me a loveletter. The mother read the note and shewed it to the Deacon, and, after due consideration, both agreed in pronouncing it a loveletter. The lawyer, justice, and parson were sent for, who in council weighed every word in the note, together with the golden temptation which the lady possessed, and were of opinion that the writer was in love, and that the note was a loveletter, but worded so carefully that the law could not punish Briton for attempting to court Miss without having obtained her parents consent. The parson wrung his hands, rolled up his eyes, shrugged up his shoulders, groaned out his hypocritical grief, and said, Deacon, I hope you do not blame me for having been the innocent cause of your knowing this imprudent and haughty Briton. There is something very odd in all the Britons; but I thought this man had some prudence and modesty however, Deacon, putting his hand on his breast, and bowing, with a pale, deceitful face, I shall in future shun all Britons, for they are all strange creatures. The lawyer and justice made their apologies, and were sorry that Briton did not consider the quality of the Deacons daughter before he wrote the letter. Miss, all apprehension and tears, at finding that no punishment could reach Briton in the course of law, cried out to her counsellors, Who is Briton? Am I not the Deacons daughter? What have I done, that he should take such liberties with me? Is he not the natural son of some priest, or foundling? Ought he not to be exposed for his assurance to the Deacons daughter? Her words took effect. The council voted that they would show their contempt of Briton by neglecting him for the time to come. On his return home, the parson, after many great signs of surprise, informed his wife of the awful event which had happened by the imprudence of Briton. She soon communicated the secret to her sistergossips, prudently cautioning them not to report it as from her. But, not content with that, the parson himself went among all his acquaintance, shaking his head, and saying, O sirs! have you heard of the strange conduct of friend Britonhow he wrote a loveletter, and sent it, with some pineapples, to the Deacons daughter? My wife and I had a great friendship for Briton, but cannot see him any more. Thus the affected parson told this important tale to every one except Briton, who, from his ignorance of the story, conducted himself in his usual manner towards his supposed friends, though he observed they had a show of haste and business whenever he met with any of them. Happily for Briton, he depended not on the Deacon, minister, or colony, for his support. At last a Scotchman heard of the evil tale, and generously told Briton of it, adding that the parson was supposed to be in deep decline merely from grief and fatigue he had endured in spreading it. Briton thanked the Scotchman, and called on the friendly parson to know the particulars of his offence. The parson, with sighs, bows, and solemn smirkings, answered, Sir, the fact is, you wrote a loveletter to the Deacons daughter without asking her parents consent; which has given great offence to that lady, and to all her acquaintance, of whom I and my wife have the honour to be reckoned a part. Briton kept his temper. So, then, said he, I have offended you by my insolent note to the Deacons daughter! I hope my sin is venial. Pray, sir, have you seen my note? Yes, replied the parson, to my grief and sorrow. I could not have thought you so imprudent, had I not seen and found the note to be your own handwriting. How long have you known of this offence? Some months. Why, sir, did you not seasonably admonish me for this crime? I was so hurt and grieved, and my friendship so great, I could not bear to tell you. Mr. Briton then told the parson that his friendship was so fine and subtle, it was invisible to an English eye; and the Gospel ministers in England did not prove their friendship by telling calumnious stories to everybody but the person concerned. But I suppose, added he, this is genuine NewEngland friendship, and merits thanks more than a supplejack. The parson, with a leering look, sneaked away towards his wife; and Briton left the colony without any civil or ecclesiastical punishment, telling the Scotchman that the Deacons daughter had money, and the parson faith without eyes, or he should never have been accused of making love to one who was naturally so great an enemy to Cupid. Of such or worse sort being the reception foreign settlers may expect from the inhabitants of Connecticut, it is no wonder that few, or none, choose to venture among them. The custom of settling and dismissing a sober dissenting minister is very singular. All the parishioners meet and vote to apply to the Association for a candidate, and one is accordingly sent. If he pleases, the people vote to give him a call; if he accepts the call, the actual communicants, and they alone, make the covenant between him and them as Christs Church, and thus they are married to him. After the candidate is ordained, others, by acknowledging and swearing to support the covenant, become married to him also. (N. B. Baptism is not sufficient to take them out of their natural state.) The call is an invitation from the parishioners to the candidate to take upon him the ministerial office of their Church, on condition that he be allowed 300l. or 400l. settlement, and perhaps 100l. salary, besides wood, c. c. during his residence among them in that capacity. The candidate, after looking round him and finding no better terms offered from any other parish, answers in this manner: Brethren and friends, I have considered your call, and, after many fastings and prayers, I find it to be the call of God, and close with your offer. The Church then appoints a day for his ordination, and the ministers who shall assist in the ceremony, which is as follows: 1. The meeting is opened with a hymn. 2. Some one makes a prayer. 3. Another hymn succeeds. 4. A sermon. 5. Another prayer. 6. The covenant is read. 7. The prayer of consecration, with imposition of hands by the minister. 8. The right hand of fellowship, which conveys that half of ministerial power which I have already spoken of as communicated by the Churches. 9. The chargethat is, to behave well in the office whereto God has called him. 10. Prayer. 11. Another hymn. 12. The young minister dismisses with his benediction. Numerous as the ceremonies are in a ministers ordination, there are but few judged necessary in dismissing him; a majority of the Church is enough to turn the minister from bed and board, or, in their language, to divorce himwhich happens more frequently than is decent. The minister has no remedy but in appealing to the Association, which step entitles him to his salary till dismissed by that powerful body. Incontinency, intemperance, lying, and idleness, are the common accusations brought against the minister, but seldom founded in truth, and yet always proved by knights of the post. However, the minister carries off his settlement in case he is dismissed for immoralities, but not if he turns Churchman; then his old parishioners are mean enough to sue for the settlement. A recent instance of this kind happened at NewLondon, where the minister, Doctor Mather Byles, desired a dismission, which was given him; but, finding the Doctors design was to become a Churchman, the people demanded the settlement given him twelve years before. The Doctor, with a spirit worthy of himself and his venerable ancestors, returned the money, with, You are welcome to it, since it proves to the world that you could not accuse me of anything more agreeable to ungenerous minds. The manner of visiting the sick in this province is more terrible than charitable. The minister demands of the sick if he be converted, when, and where. If the answer is conformable to the system of the minister, it is very well; if not, the sick is given over as a nonelect, and no object of prayer. Another minister is then sent for, who asks if the sick be willing to dieif he hates Godif he be willing to be damned, if it please God to damn him? Should he answer No, this minister quits him, as the former. Finally, the sick man dies, and so falls out of their hands into better. Amidst all the darkness of superstition that surrounds the State, the humanity it shows to poor strangers seized with sickness in the colony, or to such persons as are shipwrecked upon its coasts, shines with distinguished lustre. These unfortunate sufferers are immediately provided with the necessaries of every kind, by order of the selectmen, whose expenses are reimbursed out of the colony Treasury. Thus is laudably employed a part of the money allowed for contingencies; but another part is consumed in a very different manner. It frequently happens that, whenever the episcopalians become so numerous in a parish as to gain the ascendency over the Sober Dissenters, and the latter cannot, by their own strength, either destroy the episcopal or support their own Church, the Governor and Council, with the advice of the Consociation, kindly relieve them with an annual grant out of the public Treasury, sometimes to the amount of the whole sum paid into it by every denomination of the parish. An act of charity of this kind lately took place at Chelsea, in Norwich, where the Sober Dissenters were few and poor, and without a meetinghouse or minister, so that they were obliged to walk a mile to a meeting, or go to church. The young people chose the latter, which alarmed the Sober Dissenters to such a degree that they applied for and obtained from the generous Governor and his virtuous Council 300l. per annum out of the Treasury, besides the duties on the vessels of the Churchmen of that port. This largition enabled them to build a meetinghouse and settle a minister. When the Churchmen complained of this abuse of the public money, the Governor answered, The Assembly has the same right to support christianity as the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, or the Parliament of Great Britain. The murmurs of the people on the collection of the revenue bespeak embezzlements of another kind. It should seem that they believed the General Assembly to be in the same predicament as the devil thought Job was, when he said, Doth Job serve God for nought? Estates in Connecticut pass from generation to generation by gavelkind; so that there are few persons, except of the labouring class, who have not freeholds of their own to cultivate. A general mediocrity of station being thus constitutionally promoted, it is no wonder that the rich man is despised, and the poor mans blessing is his poverty. In no part of the world are les petits and les grands so much upon a par as here, where none of the people are destitute of the conveniences of life and the spirit of independence. From infancy, their education as citizens points out no distinction between licentiousness and liberty; and their religion is so muffled with superstition, selflove, and provincial enmity, as not yet to have taught them that humanity and respect for others which from others they demand. Notwithstanding these effects of the levelling plan, there are many exceptions to be found in the province of gentlemen of large estates and generous principles. The people commonly travel on horseback, and the ladies are capable of teaching their neighbours the art of horsemanship. There are few coaches in the colony, but many chaises and whiskeys. In winter the sleigh is useda vehicle drawn by two horses, and carrying six persons in its box, which hangs on four posts standing on two steel slides or large skates. Dancing, fishing, hunting, skating, and riding in sleighs on the ice, are all the amusements allowed in this colony. Smuggling is rivetted in the constitution and practice of the inhabitants of Connecticut, as much as superstition and religion, and their province is a storehouse for the smugglers of the neighbouring colonies. They conscientiously study to cheat the King of those duties which, they say, God and Nature never intended should be paid. From the Governor down to the tithingman, who are sworn to support the laws, they will aid smugglers, resist collectors, and mob informers. This being a popular Government, all the officers are appointed by the freeholders. There are very severe laws against bribery. The candidates are not suffered to give a dinner, or a glass of cider, on the day of the election, to a voter. Indeed, bribery is the next greatest crime to a breach of the Sabbath; yet open bribery, as established by custom immemorial in RhodeIsland, is more praiseworthy than the practice of Connecticut. I will give the reader some idea of the mode in which an election is managed in Connecticut. All the voters in a township convene in the town meetinghouse. One of the ministers, after prayers, preaches from some such text as, Jabez was more honourable than his brethren. The people keep their seats, while the constables take their votes in a box; and if a voter has not his vote written, the constable gives him one. So Jabez is elected; and the meeting is concluded with a prayer of thanks to the Lord God of Israel for turning the hearts of his people against the enemies of Zion, and for uniting them in Jabez, the man after his own heart. The manner in which the preacher treats his text will more particularly appear from the animadversion of a certain Quaker on one of these occasions. Friend, said he to the pedagogue, I do thee no wrong in telling thee that thou hast prayed and preached against bribery, but forgot to keep thy tongue from speaking evil against thy neighbour. Dost thou think the Lord will regard thy preaching so much as the voters whom thou dost call freemen? If thou believest it, thou hast bribed not only the people, but the Lord also, to reject Ebenezer and Benjamin. The preacher called upon the constable to take away this babbler and open the meeting; which was done, and Ebenezer and Benjamin were rejected by the voters. The men in general throughout the province are tall, stout, and robust. The greatest care is taken of the limbs and bodies of infants, which are kept straight by means of a boarda practice learnt from the Indian women, who abhor all crooked peopleso that deformity is here a rarity. Another custom derived from the Indians is, to welcome a newborn infant into the world with urine and honey, the effects of which are wonderful; and hence it is that at groanings there are always a little hog and a rattlesnakes skin, the latter of which prevents numbness and the cramp. The women are fair, handsome, genteel. They have, indeed, adopted various customs of the Indian women, but cannot learn, like them, how to support the pains of childbearing without a groan. Naturalists and surgeons have not been able to assign the reason why a negro woman should have a hundred pains, a white woman ten, and an Indian none. Some have said that the fatigues and hardships which negroes endure are the cause; but the Indians undergo many more: others have said it was owing to the change of climate; but this is suppletory: while the enthusiastic divines attribute it to the sin of Eve, and to the curse laid on the Canaanites. The deists ask these divines if Eve was not the common mother of the white, black, and coppercoloured women, and how it appears that negroes are the descendants of Canaan? Their answer is, that all Nature is mystery. The women of Connecticut are strictly virtuous, and to be compared to the prude rather than the European polite lady. They are not permitted to read plays; cannot converse about whist, quadrille, or operas, but will freely talk upon the subject of history, geography, and mathematics. They are great casuists and polemical divines; and I have known not a few of them so well skilled in Greek and Latin as often to put to the blush learned gentlemen. Notwithstanding the modesty of the females is such that it would be accounted the greatest rudeness for a gentleman to speak, before a lady, of a garter, knee, or leg, yet it is thought but a piece of civility to ask her to bundlea custom as old as the first settlement in 1634. It is certainly innocent, virtuous, and prudent, or the puritans would not have permitted it to prevail among their offspring, for whom, in general, they would suffer crucifixion. Children brought up with the chastest ideas, with so much religion as to believe that the omniscient God sees them in the dark, and that angels guard them when absent from their parents, will notnay, cannotact a wicked thing. People who are influenced more by lust than a serious faith in God, who is too pure to behold iniquity with approbation, ought never to bundle. If any man, thus a stranger to the love of virtue, of God, and the christian religion, should bundle with a young lady in NewEngland, and behave himself unseemly towards her, he must first melt her into passion, and expel heaven, death, and hell, from her mind, or he will undergo the chastisement of negroes turned mad; if he escapes with life, it will be owing to the parents flying from their beds to protect him. The Indians, who had this method of courtship when the English arrived among them in 1634, are the most chaste set of people in the world. Concubinage and fornication are vices none of them are addicted to, except such as forsake the laws of Hobbomockow and turn christians. The savages have taken many female prisoners, carried them back three hundred miles into their country, and kept them several years, and yet not a single instance of their violating the laws of chastity has ever been known. This cannot be said of the French, or of the English, whenever Indian or other women have fallen into their hands. I am no advocate for temptation, yet must say that bundling has prevailed 160 years in NewEngland, and, I verily believe, with ten times more chastity than the sitting on a sofa. About the year 1756, Boston, Salem, Newport, and New York, resolving to be more polite than their ancestors, forbade their daughters bundling on the bed with any young man whatever, and introduced a sofa, to render courtship more palatable and Turkish. Whatever it was owing to, whether to the sofa or any uncommon excess of the feu desprit, there went abroad a report that the raffinage produced more natural consequences than all the bundling among the boors with their rurales pendantes through every village in NewEngland besides. In 1766, a clergyman from one of the polite towns went into the country and preached against the unchristian custom of young men and maidens lying together upon the same bed. He was no sooner out of the Church, than attacked by a shoal of good old women, with, Sir, do you think we and our daughters are naughty because we allow bundling? You lead yourselves into temptation by it. They all replied at once, Sir, have you been told thus, or has experience taught you? The Levite began to lift his eyes and to consider his situation, and, bowing, said, I have been told so. The ladies, una voce, bawled out, Your informants, sir, we conclude, are those city ladies who prefer a sofa to a bed. We advise you to alter your sermon by substituting the word sofa for bundling, and, on your return home, preach to them: for experience has told us that cityfolks send more children into the country without father and mother to own them, than are born among us; therefore, you see, a sofa is more dangerous than a bed. The poor priest, seemingly convinced of his blunder, exclaimed, Nec vitia nostra, nec remedia pati possumus, hoping hereby to get rid of his guests; but an old matron pulled off her spectacles, and, looking the priest in the face like a Roman heroine, said, Noli putare me hc auribus tuis dares. Others cried out to the priest to explain his Latin. The English, he said, is this: Woe to me that I sojourn in Meseck, and dwell in the tents of Kedar! One pertly replied, Gladii decussati sunt gemina presbytericalvis. The priest confessed his error, begged pardon, and promised never more to preach against bundling, or to think amiss of the custom; the ladies generously forgave him, and went away. It may seem very strange to find this custom of bundling in bed attended with so much innocence in NewEngland, while in Europe it is thought not safe, or scarcely decent, to permit a young man or maid to be together in private anywhere. But, in this quarter of the Old World, the viciousness of the one and the simplicity of the other are the result merely of education and habit. It seems to be a part of heroism, among the polished nations of it, to sacrifice the virtuous fair one whenever an opportunity offers, and thence it is concluded that the same principles actuate those of the New World. It is egregiously absurd to judge of all countries by one. In Spain, Portugal, and Italy, jealousy reigns; in France, England, and Holland, suspicion; in the West and EastIndies, lust; in NewEngland, superstition. These four blind deities govern Jews, Turks, christians, infidels, and heathen. Superstition is the most amiable. She sees no vice with approbation, but persecution, and selfpreservation is the cause of her seeing that. My insular readers will, I hope, believe me, when I tell them that I have seen in the WestIndies naked boys and girls, some fifteen or sixteen years of age, waiting at table and at tea, even when twenty or thirty virtuous English ladies were in the room; who were under no more embarrassment at such an awful sight in the eyes of English people who have not travelled abroad, than they would have been at the sight of so many servants in livery. Shall we censure the ladies of the WestIndies as vicious above their sex on account of this local custom? By no means; for long experience has taught the world that the WestIndian white ladies are virtuous prudes. Where superstition reigns, fanaticism will be minister of state; and the people, under the taxation of zeal, will shun what is commonly called vice with ten times more care than the polite and civilized christians who know what is right and what is wrong from reason and revelation. Happy would it be for the world, if reason and revelation were suffered to control the minds and passions of the great and wise men of the world, as superstition does that of the simple and less polished! When America shall elect societies for the promotion of chastity in Europe, in return for the establishment of European arts in American capitals, then Europe will discover that there is more christian philosophy in American bundling than can be found in the customs of nations more polite. I should not have said so much about bundling had not a learned divine (Dr. Burnaby) of the English Church published his Travels through some parts of America, wherein this remarkable custom is represented in an unfavourable light, and as prevailing among the lower class of people. The truth is, the custom prevails among all classes, to the great honour of the country, its religion, and ladies. The virtuous may be tempted; but the tempter is despised. Why it should be thought incredible for a young man and young woman innocently and virtuously to lie down together in a bed with a great part of their clothes on, I cannot conceive. Human passions may be alike in every region; but religion, diversified as it is, operates differently in different countries. Upon the whole, had I daughters now, I would venture to let them bundle upon the bed, or even on the sofa, after a proper education, sooner than adopt the Spanish mode of forcing young people to prattle only before the ladys mother the chitchat of artless lovers. Could the four quarters of the world produce a more chaste, exemplary, and beautiful company of wives and daughters than are in Connecticut, I should not have remaining one favourable sentiment for the province. But the soil, the rivers, the ponds, the ten thousand landscapes, together with the virtuous and lovely women which now adorn the ancient kingdoms of Connecticut, Sassacus, and Quinnipiog, would tempt me into the highest wonder and admiration of them, could they once be freed of the skunk, the mopingowl, rattlesnake, and fanatic christian. My readers will naturally be desirous of information in what manner the people of Connecticut conduct themselves in regard to the Stamp Act, which has proved the subject of so much speculation and controversy both in America and Europe. I will, therefore, give a particular account of their proceedings concerning it, which will, perhaps, appear to have been of far greater consequence than is generally supposed in England. The American colonists were no sooner extricated from all danger of Gallic depredations by the peace of 1763, than they began to manifest symptoms of ingratitude and rebellion against their deliverers. Connecticut, on several accounts, particularly that of its free constitution in Church and State, which prevented every interruption from a Kings Governor, was fixed upon as the fittest site for raising the firstfruits of jealousies and disaffection. Nor did the hatred which kept the province at eternal strife within itself on all other occasions, prevent its political coincidence upon this. In 1764, delegates from every dissenting association in America convened at Newhaven and settled the plan of operations. They voted that the American Vine was endangered by the encroachment of the English Parliament and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts; that episcopacy was established in NovaScotia, and missionaries maintained by the English Government, while NewEngland and other American States were taxed to support that same Government; that a league and covenant ought to be made and signed by all good protestants against the machinations of their enemies, and in defence of their civil and religious liberties; that it was the duty of all good protestants to stand upon their guard, and collect and send every kind of interesting intelligence to the Moderator at Hertford, whose business would be to communicate the same in his circular letters to the true friends of protestant liberty. In my opinion, whoever does not perceive the spirit of civil as well as religious independence in this convention, and these resolutions of dissenting divines, must be politically blind. Whilst Mr. Grenville was exerting his fanatical faculties for the relief of the Mother Country; ready to sink under the load of expense brought upon her by that war which had opened an avenue to highest exaltation for her American offspring, Connecticut was early advertised by merchants, divines, and ladies, in England, that the Parliament was about to give the colonies a specimen of English burthens. The Consociation ordered a fast, to deprecate the threatened judgments. This fast was served up with sermons pointing out the reigns of wicked kings, lords, and bishops, in the last century; and concluded with, One woe is past, and, behold, there come two woes more hereafter! A requisition having been made, in 1763, that each colony in America should raise a revenue to assist Great Britain in discharging the national debt, which had been partly incurred at their request and for their preservation, the General Assembly was instructed by Dr. Franklin and others how to act. Accordingly, the Assembly resolved not to raise any money towards the national debt, or any national expenses, till the Parliament should remove the Navigation Act, which, they said, was advantageous to Great Britain and disadvantageous to America; and, therefore, Great Britain, in defraying the whole of the national expense, did nothing more than justice required, so long as that act should be continued. Such were the arguments and resolutions of the General Assembly, although their agent in England had informed them that, if they refused to comply with the requisition of the minister, the Parliament would tax them. The agents intelligence proved to be well founded. In 1765 the Stamp Act passed, because the colonies had refused to tax themselves. News so important soon arrived in America, and the Consociation of Connecticut appointed another fast, and ordered the angels to sound their trumpets, and great plagues followed. Thomas Fitch, the Governor, shewed some dislike to the proceedings of the Consociation, but was given to understand that Christs ministers acted by an authority superior to that of the Governor or a king. The episcopalians, and many sects, saw no reason for keeping the fast; but the Governor observed it with a view of securing his election the next year, and was successful. The episcopalians were rewarded for their disobedience with what is called a new religious comic Liturgy, which was printed and circulated through the colony as the performance of Doctor Franklin, and acted in many towns by the young people on evenings by way of sport and amusement. The litany was altered in many places, especially in the paragraphs respecting the King, nobility, c.; and instead of We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord! was substituted, We beseech thee, O Cromwell, to hear (our prayers) us. O holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity! was altered thus, O Chatham, Wilkes, and Franklin, have mercy upon us! From plague, pestilence, famine, c. was followed by O Cromwell, deliver us! An episcopal clergyman had courage enough to complain of these blasphemous proceedings, and the Grand Jury indicted the comic actors; but the magistrate to whom the complaint was made refused to grant a warrant, using worse maledictions against the King than were contained in the ludicrous litany. Hereupon the Grand Jury indicted the magistrate for high treason; but no magistrate could be found of resolution enough to grant a warrant against the traitor. However, the comic liturgy was acted but privately afterwards, and, upon the repeal of the Stamp Act, was suppressed as far as they could do it. This second fast was sanctified with preaching on this and similar texts, And there arose a new king in Egypt who remembered not Joseph, and with praying God to grant the King a heart of flesh, and to remove popery out of the British Parliament. The Stamp Act was to take place in November, 1765; some months before which the stampmaster, Jared Ingersoll, Esq. who had been the colonys agent in England, arrived at Newhaven in Connecticut. In September a special Assembly was convened at Hertford, for the purpose of considering what steps to take. As if to avoid the supremacy of the British Parliament, they determined not to apply themselves for the repeal of the act, but secretly encouraged a number of lawyers, merchants, and divines to meet, by their own authority, at NewYork, for that purpose. In the mean time three mobs were raised, under Durgy, Leach, and Parsons, who by different routes marched into Newhaven to seize the stampmaster. They succeeded; and, having brought their prisoner before the Assemblyhouse at Hertford, they gave him the alternative to resign or die. Mr. Ingersoll appealed several times by confidential messengers to the Assembly then sitting, but, finding them inclined to countenance the mob, he was forced to resign, and authenticate the same by whirling first his hat, and next his wig, three times round his head, and then into the air; whilst the General Assembly and Consociation (which last venerable body never fails to be ready with its counsel and assistance on all salutary occasions) shouted with the multitude, from their windows, at the glorious achievement. This special Assembly, having sufficiently manifested the part they wished the colony to take, broke up, leaving further proceedings to the mob, who continued to act up to the specimen already given, and the Congress of New York, which met then accordingly, agreed upon and transmitted to England a petition for a repeal of the obnoxious act.39 The October session of the General Assembly is always holden at Newhaven: there and then they were informed by Mr. Dyer,41 who had made one of the petitioners at New York, that it was recommended by the Congress for the colonial governors to take the oath prescribed by the Stamp Act. The General Assembly, however, voted that the Governor of Connecticut should not take it; and, moreover, determined to continue Mr. Fitch in his office, notwithstanding the disfranchisement incident on his refusal, if he would be guided by their advice: the Rev. Mr. Ebenezer Devotion, one of the Representatives, and Eliphalet Dyer (above mentioned), one of the Council, offered to pay the imposed fine of 1,000l. However, the Governor presented himself before the Council, whose business it was to administer the oath, but which, it is thought, Mr. Fitch presumed would be denied, and therefore artfully devised this means at once of avoiding the oath and shifting the penalties from himself upon them. Seven out of the twelve, suspecting the Governors design, put their fingers in their ears, shuffled their feet, and ran groaning out of the house; the other five stayed, and administered the oath, with a view to saving themselves and the Charter and direct the wrath of the people against the Governor; but in this they were mistaken, incurring in common with him the odium of the patriots. The Stamp Act having thus gained footing, the Assembly broke up. Legal proceedings also were discontinued, and the courts of justice shut. The Consociations and Associations kept frequent fasts of their own appointment, prayers, and preaching against Roman Catholic rulers, Arminian governors, and falsehearted councillors and episcopizing curates. Hereupon the mobs became outrageous; sedition was law and rebellion gospel. The stampmaster was called a traitor to his country, and the episcopalians enemies to Zion and liberty. The fastings, prayers, and riots brought about a revolution in the colony. Fitch, who had taken, and the five assistants who had administered, the oath, as well as many officers, both civil and military, who declined to take a rebellious part, were dismissed from their posts; and a new Governor, other councillors, c. were chosen, and the people fitted for every kind of mischiefall, however, under the pretence of religion and liberty. The patriotic Mr. Dyer distinguished himself by furnishing the fasting ministers with proper materials to inflame the minds of the people against the just demands of the King. One of his Machiavellian dogmas was, that the King claimed the colonies as his patrimony, and intended to raise a revenue in each province; and that, having gained this point, his purpose was to govern England by America and America by England, and thereby subvert liberty and establish tyranny in both, as the kings of France had done by means of the various parliaments in that country. Mr. Dyer declared he had this information from the best authority in England, and added, that the liberties of both countries depended on America resisting the Stamp Act, even unto blood. These and such like reveries supplied the ministers of the Gospel with a great body of political divinity, and the mob with courage to break Churchmens windows, and cry out, No bishops! no popery! no kings, lords, and tyrants! Everything but decency and order overran the colony. Indeed, the General Assembly kept up their meetings, but it was only to transact such business as was not affected by the Stamp Act. The mobs of the fasting ministers continued their lawless proceedings, without further interruption and impediment than what they met with from the strenuous exertions of the Kings friends, who had repeatedly saved the lives of the stampmaster, Governor Fitch, the five rejected councillors, the episcopal clergy, and many good subjects, at the hazard of their own, though they could not preserve them from daily abuse and insult. The mob, having been spirited up and trained to violence and outrage for several months, began to make some alarm even to the instigators, especially as they were hitherto disappointed in their expectations of the act being repealed. The Governor and Council, therefore, directing their attention to the dangerous consequences of the lawless state and refractory temper the people were in, and being struck with the foresight of their own perilous situation, resolved, early in 1766, to open the courts of law under the Stamp Act, if the very next packet did not bring certain advices of its repeal; and all parties who had causes depending in any court were to be duly notified by the Governors proclamation. This determination was no less mortifying to the mob than gratifying to the Kings friends, who were convinced that the Stamp Act ought, both in policy and justice, to be enforced, and therefore had risked their lives, fortunes, characters, and colonial honours in its support. The patriots, now apparently sickened with licentiousness, became very complaisant to the loyalists, declaring that, in all their opposition to the Stamp Act, they had meant nothing personal, and desiring to have past animosities buried in oblivion. All things thus settled, tranquillity seemed to be returning; when, lo! the packet arrived with the fatal news of the repeal of the Stamp Act. Then a double portion of madness seized the patriots, who, in their excess of joy that victory was gained over the beast, and over his mark, utterly forgot their late penitential and tranquil professions, branding the Kings friends with the appellations of tories, Jacobites, and papists. The Gospel ministers left off their fastings, and turned mourning into joy and triumph. Now we behold, they said in their pulpits, that Great Britain is afraid of us; for the Stamp Act is repealed, even upon the petition of an illegal body of men. If, therefore, we stand fast in the liberties wherein Christ has made us free, we need not fear in future the usurpations of the kings, lords, and bishops of England. The accompanying claim of Parliament to the power of binding America in all cases whatsoever was, indeed, a thorn which galled them much; but they found a salvo in ordering a copy of the repeal to be burnt under the gallows by the common hangman. The General Assembly also stepped forward, and voted the populace several barrels of powder, and puncheons of rum, together with 100l. in money, to celebrate the festival. A tremendous mob met together at Hertford and received their present. The powder was placed in a large brick school, and the rum on the common square. While each one was contending for his share, the powder took fire and blew up the school, killing fifteen or sixteen persons, and wounding many. This disaster shook the house where the Consociation was sitting; upon which they resolved that Heaven did not approve of their rejoicings because the repeal was but partial! They therefore ordered a new fast, to do away the iniquities of that day, and to implore the Supreme to direct them in what manner to guard against the machinations of the locusts who had a king over them, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek Apollyon! This fast was cooked up with a favourite text in NewEngland, viz. He reproved even kings for their sake. From these words the preachers proved that the Kings power lay in his mouth, and in his tail, which, like a serpent, did hurt for a month and a year; and that God would protect his people against the murderers, the sorceries, the fornication, the thefts of bishops, popes, and kings, and make nations angry, and give them power to judge and destroy those who would destroy his prophets and his saints. In this day of great humiliation the prophets entertained the saints with a spice of rejoicing, because victory was gotten over the beast, and over his image, and over his mark, and over the number of his name. Therefore, said they, rejoice, O inhabitants of the earth and of the sea, because we can get, buy, and sell, without the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. This bombastic declamation against the authority of Great Britain raised the passions of a great portion of this multitude higher than was intended. They had lately been tutored to form high notions of their own consequence, had been intoxicated with a life of confusion in a lawless country, and had now no relish for a government of any kind whatever; accordingly, inflamed by the rhapsodies of the preachers, they set themselves against that of the colony; arguing that if the Lord would reprove kings, lords, and bishops, for their sake, he would also reprove governors, magistrates, and consociations, for their sakes. This revolt of a part of the people was encouraged and strengthened by the adherents of Governor Fitch, the five discarded councillors, and the loyalists; so that very formidable bodies soon appeared in divers towns, threatening destruction to the General Assembly, Consociation, Associations, executive courts, c. c. Colonel Street Hall, of Wallingford, a loyalist, was appointed governor over these supreme multitudes. They soon acquainted the General Assembly and Consociation that, by the authority that England had been reformed, by the same authority should Connecticut be reformed; and Mr. Hall sent a letter to the Judges of the County Court, then sitting at Newhaven, purporting that it was not agreeable to the people for them to continue their proceedings, or that any executions should be granted, and concluding thus: Ye that have ears to hear, hear what is said unto you; for we shall quickly come. The judges, without hesitation or adjournment, ran out of court and went home as privately as possible. The merchants, the Gospel ministers, the lawyers, and judges, who had with great zeal inculcated the divine right of the people to resist kings, found themselves in a starving condition under the exercise of their boasted right. The General Assembly and Association, however, again convened, and, after much fasting and prayer, resolved that the conduct of Street Hall, Esq. and his associates, was seditious and treasonable; and ordered the AttorneyGeneral, Colonel Elihu Hall, to indict his nephew, Street Hall, for treasonable practices. The AttorneyGeneral refused to comply with this mandate, whereupon he was dismissed, and James Hillhouse, Esq. appointed in his place, who indicted Street Hall; but no sheriff dared serve the warrant. Street Hall ordered his people to prepare for battle and to be ready at a minutes warning, and rode about with one servant, in defiance of the General Assembly, who likewise prepared to support their power. It is most likely that Street Hall would have prevailed had an engagement taken place; for the episcopalians, and all the friends of Mr. Fitch and the five dismissed councillors, would have supported Mr. Hall. But a battle was prevented by the interposition of the Consociation, with this curious Gospel axiom, viz. that it was legal and politic in the people to oppose and resist the foreign power which was unjustly claimed by the King of Great Britain; but it was neither politic nor right to oppose the magistrates and laws made by themselves. They prevailed on Street Hall to condescend to write to the General Assembly to this effect: That he was a friend to the laws and constitution of the colony, and wished to support both; and should do it, on condition that they would rescind their vote, and that no one should be prosecuted for what had been done by him and his associates. The Assembly very gladly voted this overture of Street Hall to be satisfactory; and thus peace was reestablished between the Assembly and Street Hall. Nevertheless, Mr. Hall was greatly censured by his partisans for this compromise; and he lived in constant expectation of their hanging him, till he softened them by this remarkable address in vindication of his conduct: We have done, said he, everything in our power to support the authority of the British Parliament over the colonies. We have lost our property, local reputations, and all colonial offices and respect among our countrymen, in defence of that King and Parliament who have not shed a tear for our sufferings, nor failed to sacrifice their own dignities and their best friends to please a party that never will be easy until another Oliver arise and extirpate kings, lords, and bishops. By heavens! added Street Hall, with great energy, I will rest my life upon this single question, Who would stand up in defence of a king who prefers his enemies to his friends? If you acquit me, I shall more fully declare my principles. The mob, after much consideration, declared their approbation of Mr. Halls conduct; upon which he resumed his address nearly as follows: Gentlemen, we have once been betrayed and forsaken by the King and Parliament of Great Britain; no dependence, then, ought henceforth to be placed upon either. It is plain to me, that if we had extirpated the General Assembly and all the avowed enemies of the constitution of Great Britain, yet that very Parliament would have been the first of all the creation to honour us with a gallows for our reward. I therefore swear by Him who controls the wheels of time, that in future I will support the laws and dignity of the colony, and never more put any confidence in princes or British Parliament. The Saviour of the world trusted Judas but once; and it is my opinion that those who betray and forsake their friends ought to experience the wrath and indignation of friends turned enemies. In this case, baseness is policy, ingratitude loyalty, and revenge heroic virtue! Colonel Street Hall spoke with great vehemence, and might be censured for rashness by people who were not in America at the time; but his sentiments reached the hearts of half of the Kings friends there; for the repeal of the Stamp Act had fixed in their breasts an everlasting hatred to the fickle temper of Britons. Few people, hereafter, will advance a sixpence in support of any acts of the Parliament of Great Britain over her colonies. Prior to the year 1766 such a public spirit prevailed in America over private interest as would naturally have led the people to conform to any acts of the British Parliament, from a deeprooted confidence that the requisitions of Britain would be no other than the requisitions of wisdom and necessity. Twothirds, I may say with safety, of all the people in America thought there was wisdom and justice in the Stamp Act, and wished to have it continued: first, because they were sensible of being greatly indebted to the generosity and protection of Britain; secondly, because they had rather be subject to the control of Parliament in regard to a revenue, than have it raised by the authority of their own Assemblies, who favour the rich and oppress the poor; and thirdly, because the Stamp Act would have prevented innumerable suits at law, the costs of which, in Connecticut, have during the last forty years amounted to ten times as much as all others for war, gospel, physic, the poor, c. c. It is impossible to describe the disappointment and mortification they suffered by the repeal of that act; it exposed them to calumny, derision, and oppression; it disheartened all, and occasioned the defection of many, while their adversaries triumphed in the encouragement it had given them to prosecute their malicious schemes against the Church, King, laws, and commerce of England. However, in regard to the question of raising a revenue in America, I have never met with one American who would not allow (though unwillingly) the reasonableness of it, with certain conditions and provisos. Thus: 1. The judges and lawyers required the tax to be imposed by the General Assembly of each province. 2. The merchants, whose conscience is gain, and who commonly constitute more than half of the Assembly, declared that, before any revenue was raised, the Navigation Act should be repealed, and the East India Company, and all the monopolies, dissolved. 3. The Gospel ministers, whose power in NewEngland is terrible to flesh and spirit, would contribute to a revenue after the King and Parliament had dropped their claim to supreme authority over America, and secured the American Vine against the domination and usurpations of bishops. To these sources may be traced all the objections made against a revenue in America, which sprung from three orders of men of the least real benefit to the country, and whose proportion to all others there is not one to a hundred; though they have had the art and address, by imposition and delusion, to involve them in their tumultuous contentions and ruinous projects and undertakings. Indeed, the clergy, lawyers, and merchants of European countries have been represented as the worst enemies of societythe great promoters of discord, war, insurrections, and rebellions; but the heathen have not yet given us an example how depraved mankind would be without them. However, supposing the crimination to have foundation, there is one good reason to be offered in palliation of it. Most governments are too apt to adopt the maxim of rewarding prosperous opposing zealots, whilst the exertions of oppressed friends are passed over, if not with contempt at least with silent neglect. Hence, men will naturally be induced, in defiance of law and gospel, to head parties, to become consequential in the world. 1 Commonly denominated the London and Plymouth Companies. 2 About two years after, he made a second voyage to the river, in the service of a number of Dutch merchants; and, some time after, made sale of his right to the Dutch. The right to the country, however, was antecedently in King James, by virtue of discovery which Hudson had made under his commission. The English protested against this sale; but the Dutch, in 1614, under the Amsterdam West India Company, built a fort, nearly on the same grounds where the city of Albany now is, which they called Fort Aurania. Sir Thomas Dale, Governor of Virginia, directly after dispatched Captain Argall to dispossess the Dutch, and they submitted to the King of England, and under him to the Governor of Virginia. 3 November 3, 1620, just before the arrival of Mr. Robinsons people in New England, King James I., by letterspatent, under the great seal of England, incorporated the Duke of Lenox, the Marquises of Rockingham and Hamilton, the Earls of Arundel and Warwick, and others, to the number of forty noblemen, knights, and gentlemen, by the name of the Council established at Plymouth, in the county of Devon, for the planting, ruling, and governing of New England in America  and granting unto them, and their successors and assigns, all that part of America lying and being in breadth from forty degrees of north latitude, from the equinoctial line, to the fortyeighth degree of said north latitude inclusively, and in length of and within all the breadth aforesaid, through the mainland from sea to sea. The patent ordained that this tract of country should be called New England in America, and by that name have continuance forever. 4 The same year in which the patent of Massachusetts received the royal confirmation, Mr. John Endicott was sent over with about three hundred people by the patentees, to prepare the way for the settlement of a permanent colony in that part of New England. They arrived at Naumkeak in June, and began a settlement, which they named Salem. This was the first town in Massachusetts, and the second in New England. 5 Mather, Neal, Hutchinson, and other writers of New England history, have uniformly deviated from the truth in representing Connecticut as having been first settled by emigrants from their darling Massachusetts Bay. 6 Nearly at the same time, October 8, 1635, Mr. John Winthrop, son of Governor Winthrop, of Massachusetts, arrived at Boston with a commission from Lord Say and Seal, Lord Brook, and other noblemen and gentlemen interested in the Connecticut patent, to erect a fort at the mouth of the Connecticut River. Their lordships sent over men, ordnance, ammunition, and two thousand pounds sterling, for the accomplishment of their design. Mr. Winthrop was directed by his commission, immediately on his arrival, to repair to Connecticut with fifty able men, and to erect the fortifications and to build houses for the garrison, and for gentlemen who might come over into Connecticut. They were first to build houses for their own present accommodation, and after that such as should be suitable for the reception of men of quality. The latter were to be erected within the fort. It was required that the planters at the beginning should settle themselves near the mouth of the river, and set down in bodies, that they might be in a situation for intrenching and defending themselves. The commission made provision for the reservation of a thousand or fifteen hundred acres of good land for the maintenance of the fort, as nearly adjoining it as might be with convenience. Mr. Winthrop, having intelligence that the Dutch were preparing to take possession of the mouth of the river, as soon as he could engage twenty men and furnish them with provisions, dispatched them in a small vessel of about thirty tons, to prevent their getting command of the river, and to accomplish the service to which he had been appointed. But a few days after the party sent by Mr. Winthrop arrived at the mouth of the river, a Dutch vessel appeared off the harbor from New Netherlands, sent on purpose to take possession of the mouth of the river and to erect fortifications. The English had by this time mounted two pieces of cannon and prevented their landing; thus, providentially, was this fine tract of country preserved for our venerable ancestors and their posterity. Mr. Winthrop was appointed Governor of the Connecticut River and the ports adjacent for the term of one year. He erected a fort, built houses, and made a settlement, according to his instructions. One David Gardiner, an expert engineer, assisted in the work, planned the fortifications, and was appointed lieutenant of the fort. Mr. Davenport and others, who afterward settled New Haven, were active in this affair, and hired Gardiner, in behalf of their lordships, to come to New England and assist in this business. As the settlement of the three towns on Connecticut River was begun before the arrival of Mr. Winthrop, and the design of their lordships to make plantations upon it was known, it was agreed that the settlers on the river should either remove upon full satisfaction being made by their lordships, or else sufficient room should be found for them and their companions at some other place. While these plantations were forming in the southwestern part of Connecticut, another commenced on the west side of the mouth of the Connecticut River. A fort had been built here in 163536, and preparations had been made for the reception of gentlemen of quality; but the war with the Pequots, the uncultivated state of the country, and the low condition of the colony, prevented the coming of any principal character from England to take possession of a township and make settlement in this tract. Until this time there had been only a garrison of about twenty men in the place. They had made some small improvements in the lands, and erected a few buildings in the vicinity of the fort; but there had been no settlement of a plantation with civil privileges. But about midsummer Mr. George Fenwick, with his lady and family, arrived in a ship of two hundred and fifty tons; another ship came in company with him. They were both for Qunnipiack. Mr. Fenwick and others came over with the view to take possession of a large tract upon the river in behalf of their lordships, the original patentees, and to plant a town at the mouth of the river. A settlement was soon made, and named Saybrook, in honor of their lordships, Say and Seal, and Brook. Mr. Fenwick, Mr. Thomas Peters, who was the first minister in the plantation, Captain Gardiner, Thomas Leffingwell, Thomas Tracy, and Captain John Mason, were some of the principal planters. 7 In July, 1638, Mr. Winslow and Mr. Bradford, therefore, made a journey to Boston to confer with Governor Winthrop and his Council on the subject. Governor Winslow and Mr. Bradford proposed to them to join with Plymouth in a trade to Connecticut for hemp and beaver, and to erect a house for the purpose of commerce. It was represented as necessary to prevent the Dutch from taking possession of that fine country, who, it was reported, were about to build upon the river. But Governor Winthrop declined the motion; he considered it was not proper to make a plantation there, because there were three or four thousand warlike Indians upon the river, and small pinnaces only could enter at high water; also, because that seven months in the year no vessels could go into it, by reason of the ice and the violence of the stream. The Plymouth people, therefore, determined to undertake the enterprise at their own risk. Preparations were made for erecting a tradinghouse and establishing a small company on the river. In the mean time, the master of a vessel from Massachusetts, who was trading at New Netherlands, showed to Walter Van Twiller, the Dutch Governor, the commission which the English had to trade and settle in New England, and that his Majesty the King of England had granted all these parts to his own subjects. He, therefore, desired that the Dutch would not build at Connecticut. This appears to have been done at the direction of Governor Winthrop, for, in consequence of it, the Dutch Governor wrote a very complaisant letter to him, in which he represented that the lords, the StatesGeneral, had granted the same country to the West India Company. He requested, therefore that the English would make no settlements in Connecticut until the affair should be determined between the court of England and the StatesGeneral. This appears to have been a piece of policy in the Dutch Governor to keep the English still until the Dutch had got a firm footing upon the river. Several vessels this year went to Connecticut River to trade. John Oldham, from Dorchester, and three men with him, also traveled through the wilderness to Connecticut, to view the country and trade with the Indians. The sachem upon the river made him most welcome, and gave him a present in beaver. He found that the Indian hemp grew spontaneously in the meadows in great abundance. He purchased a quantity of it, and upon trial it appeared much to exceed the hemp which was grown in England. William Holmes, of Portsmouth, with his company, having prepared the frame of a house, with boards, and materials for covering it immediately, put them on board of a vessel and sailed for Connecticut. Holmes had a commission from the Governor of Plymouth and a chosen company to accomplish his design. When he came into the river he found that the Dutch had got in before him, made a light fort, and planted two pieces of cannon: this was erected at the place called Hartford. The Dutch forbade Holmes going up the river, stood by their cannon, and ordered him to strike his colors or they would fire upon him; but he was a man of spirit, assured them that he had a commission from the Governor of Plymouth to go up the river, and that he must obey his orders. They poured out their threats, but he proceeded, and, landing on the west side of the river, erected his house a little below the mouth of the small river in Windsor. The house was covered with the utmost dispatch, and fortified with palisadoes. The sachems who were the original owners of the soil had been driven from this part of the country by the Pequots, and were now carried home on board of Holmess vessel. Of them the Plymouth people purchased the land on which they erected their house. This, Governor Wolcott says, was the first house erected in Connecticut. The Dutch about the same time erected a tradinghouse at Hartford, which they called the Hirse of Good Hope. It was with great difficulty that Holmes and his company erected and fortified their house, and kept it afterward. The Indians were offended at their bringing home the original proprietors and lords of the country, and the Dutch that they had settled there, and were about to rival them in trade and in possession of these excellent lands upon the river. They were obliged, therefore, to combat both, and to keep a constant watch upon them. The Dutch, before the Plymouth people took possession of the river, had invited them in an amicable manner to trade in Connecticut; but, when they were apprised that they were making preparations for a settlement there, they repented the invitation, and spared no exertion to prevent them. On the 8th of June the Dutch had sent Jacob Van Curter to purchase lands upon the Connecticut. He made a purchase of about twenty acres at Hartford, of Nepuquash, a Pequot captain. Of this the Dutch took possession in October, and on the 25th of the month Curter protested against William Holmes, the builder of the Plymouth house. Some time afterward the Dutch Governor, Walter Van Twiller, of Fort Amsterdam, dispatched a renforcement to Connecticut, designing to drive Holmes and his company from the river. A band of seventy men, under arms, with banners displayed, assaulted the Plymouth house, but they found it so well fortified, and the men who kept it so vigilant and determined, that it could not be taken without bloodshed; they therefore came to a parley, and finally returned in peace. About the beginning of June, 1636, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Stone, and about one hundred men, women, and children, took their departure from Cambridge, and traveled more than one hundred miles through a hideous and trackless wilderness to Hartford. They had no guide but their compass; made their way over mountains, through swamps, thickets, and rivers, which were not passable but with difficulty. They had no cover but the heavens, nor any lodgings but what simple Nature afforded them. They drove with them one hundred and sixty head of cattle, and by the way subsisted upon the milk of their cows. Mrs. Hooker was borne through the wilderness upon a litter. The people generally carried their packs, arms, and utensils. They were nearly a fortnight on their journey. 8 While the planters of Connecticut were thus exerting themselves in prosecuting and regulating the affairs of that colony, another was projected and settled at Quinnipiack, and afterward called New Haven. On the 26th of July, 1637, Mr. John Davenport, Mr. Samuel Eaton, Theophilus Eaton, and Edward Hopkins, Esquires, Mr. Thomas Gregson, and many others of good character and fortune, arrived in Boston. Mr. Davenport had been a famous minister in the city of London, and was a distinguished character for piety, learning, and good conduct. Many of his congregation, on account of the esteem which they had for his person and ministry, followed him to New England. Mr. Eaton and Mr. Hopkins had been merchants in London, possessed great estates, and were men of eminence for their abilities and integrity. The fame of Davenport, and the reputation and good estates of the principal gentlemen of his company, made the people of Massachusetts exceedingly desirous of their settlement in that Commonwealth. Great pains were taken not only by particular persons and towns, but by the General Court, to fix them in the colony. Charlestown made them large offers, and Newbury proposed to give up the whole town to them. The General Court offered them any place which they should select. But they were determined to plant a distant colony. By the pursuit of the Pequots to the westward, the English became acquainted with that fine tract along the shore from Saybrook to Fairfield, and with its several harbors. It was represented as fruitful, and happily situated for navigation and commerce. The company, therefore, projected a settlement in that part of the country. In the fall of 1637 Mr. Eaton and others who were of the company made a journey to Connecticut to explore the lands and harbors on the seacoast. They pitched upon Quinnipiack for the place of their settlement. They erected a poor hut, in which a few men subsisted through the winter. On the 30th of March, 1638, Mr. Davenport, Mr. Prudden, Mr. Samuel Eaton, and Theophilus Eaton, Esquire, with the people of their company, sailed from Boston to Quinnipiack. In about a fortnight they arrived at their desired port. On the 14th of April they kept their first Sabbath in the place. The people assembled under a large, spreading oak, and Mr. Davenport preached to them from Matthew v. 1. He discoursed on the temptations of man, and made such observations as were pertinent to the then present state of his hearers. He left this remark, that he enjoyed a good day. 9 New England Records, A., p. 201. 10 While the colonists were thus prosecuting the business of settlement in New England, the Right Honorable James, Marquis of Hamilton, obtained a grant from the Council of Plymouth April 20, 1635, of all that tract of country which lies between Connecticut River and Narraganset River and harbor, from the mouth of each of said rivers northward sixty miles into the country. However, by reason of its interference with the grant to Lords Say and Brook, and others, or for some other reason, the deed was never executed. The marquis made no settlement on the land, and the claim became obsolete. 11 Such numbers were constantly emigrating to New England, in consequence of the persecution of the Puritans, that the people of Dorchester, Watertown, and Newtown, began to be much straitened by the accession of new planters. By those who had been in Connecticut they had received intelligence of the excellent meadows on the river; they therefore determined to remove, and once more brave the dangers and hardships of making settlements in a dreary wilderness. Upon application to the General Court for the enlargement of their boundaries, or for liberty to remove, they at first obtained consent for the latter. However, when it was afterward discovered that their determination was to plant a new colony in Connecticut, there arose a strong opposition; so that, when the Court convened, in September, there was a warm debate on the subject, and a great division between the Houses. Indeed, the whole colony was affected with the dispute. Mr. Hooker, who was more engaged in the enterprise than the other ministers, took up the affair and pleaded for the people. He urged that they were so straitened for accommodations for their cattle, that they could not support the ministry, neither receive nor assist any more of their friends who might come over to them. He insisted that the planting of towns so near together was a fundamental error in their policy. He pleaded the fertility and happy accommodations of Connecticut; that settlements upon the river were necessary to prevent the Dutch, and others, from possessing themselves of so fruitful and important a part of the country; and that the minds of the people were strongly inclined to plant themselves there, in preference to every other place which had come to their knowledge. On the other side, it was insisted that, in point of conscience, they ought not to depart, as they were united to Massachusetts as one body, and bound by oath to seek the good of the Commonwealth; and that, on principles of policy, it could not by any means be granted. It was pleaded that the settlement in Massachusetts was new and weak; they were in danger from an assault from their enemies; that the departure of Mr. Hooker, and the people of those towns, would not only draw off many from Massachusetts, but prevent others from settling in the colony. Besides, it was said that the removing of a candlestick was a great judgment; that, by suffering it, they should expose their brethren to great danger, both from the Dutch and the Indians. Indeed, it was affirmed that they might be accommodated by the enlargements offered them by other towns. After a long and warm debate, the Governor, two assistants, and a majority of the representatives, were for granting liberty for Mr. Hooker and the people to transport themselves to Connecticut. The DeputyGovernor, however, and six of the assistants, were in the negative, and so no vote was obtained. The next May the Newtown people determined to settle at Connecticut, renewed their application to the General Court, and obtained liberty to remove to any place which they should select, with the proviso that they should continue under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts.ED. NOTE. 12 Dominion, in New England, signifies a sovereign, independent state, uncontrollable by any other earthly power. 13 The Indian mode of counting is from one to twenty. Every year they cut a notch in a stick, and when the stick is full, or has twenty notches on it, they lay it up and take another. When they have thus cut twenty sticks, they reckon no more; the number of twenty times twenty with them becomes infinite, or incomprehensible.ED. NOTE. 14 It was the opinion of the principal divines who settled in New England and Connecticut that in every church completely organized there was a pastor, teacher, ruling elder, and deacons. Three distinct offices, they said, were clearly taught in those passages.Romans xii. 7: Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering; or he that teacheth on teaching. 1 Timothy v. 17: Let the elders that rule well be counted worthy of double honor, especially they who labor in the word and doctrine. 1 Corinthians xii. 28: And God has set some in the Church, first apostles, secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers, after that miracles, then gifts of healing, helps, governments, diversities of tongues. And Ephesians iv. 11: And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers. From these they argued the duty of all churches which were able to be thus furnished. In this manner were the churches of Hartford, Windsor, New Haven, and other towns, organized. The churches which were not able to support a pastor and teacher had the ruling elders and deacons. The ruling elders were ordained with no less solemnity than their pastors and teachers. When no teacher could be obtained, the pastor performed the duty of both pastor and teacher. It was the general opinion that the pastors work consisted principally in exhortation, in working upon the will and affections of the people. To this the whole force of his study was to be directed, that by his judicious, powerful, and affectionate addresses he might win his hearers to the love and practice of the truth. But the teacher was Doctor in Ecclesia, whose business was to teach, and explain, and defend the doctrines of Christianity. He was to inform the judgment, and advance the work of illumination. The business of the ruling elder was to assist the pastor in the government of the church. He was particularly set apart to watch over all its members; to prepare and bring forward all cases of discipline; to visit and pray with the sick; and, in absence of the pastor and teacher, to pray with the congregation and expound the Scriptures. The pastors and churches of New England maintained with the reformed churches in general that bishops and presbyters were only different names for the same office; and that all pastors regularly elected to the gospel ministry were Scripture bishops. They also insisted, agreeably to the primitive practice, that the work of every pastor was confined principally to one particular church and congregation, who could all assemble in one place, whom he could inspect, and who could all unite together in acts of worship and discipline. Indeed, the first ministers of Connecticut and New England at first maintained that all the pastors office power was confined to his own church and congregation, and that the administering of baptism and the Lords Supper in other churches was irregular. With respect to ordination, they held that it did not constitute the essentials of ministerial office; but the qualifications for office were the election of the church, guided by the rule of Christ, and the acceptance of the pastorelect. Says Mr. Hooker, Ordination is an approbation of the officer, and solemn setting and confirmation of him in his office by prayer and laying on of hands. It was viewed by the ministers of New England as no more than putting the pastorelect in office, or a solemn recommending of him and his labors to the blessing of God. It was the general opinion that elders ought to lay on hands in ordination if there were a presbytery in the church, but, if there were not, the church might appoint some other elders, or a number of the brethren, to perform that service.ED. NOTE. 15 On the 4th of June, 1689, all the free planters at Quinnipiack convened in a large barn of Mr. Newmans, and, in a very formal and solemn manner, proceeded to lay the foundations of their civil and religious polity. Mr. Davenport introduced the business by a sermon from the words of the royal preacher, Wisdom has builded her house, she has hewn out seven pillars. His design was to show that the church, the house of God, should be formed of seven pillars, or principal brethren, to whom all the other members of the church should be added. After a solemn invocation of the Divine Majesty, he proceeded to represent to the planters that they were met to consult respecting the settlement of civil government, according to the will of God, and for the nomination of persons who, by universal consent, were in all respects the best qualified for the foundationwork of a church. He enlarged on the great importance of the transactions before them, and desired that no man would give his voice in any matter until he fully understood it, and that all would act without respect to any man, but give their vote in the fear of God. He then proposed a number of questions, in consequence of which the following resolutions were passed: 1. That the Scriptures hold forth a perfect rule for the direction and government of all men in all duties which they are to perform to God and man, as well in families and commonwealth as in matters of church. 2. That as in matters which concerned the gathering and ordering of a church, so likewise in all public offices which concern civil order, as the choice of magistrates and officers, making and repealing laws, dividing allotments of inheritance, and all things of like nature, they would all be governed by those rules which the Scripture held forth to them. 3. That all those who had desired to be received as free planters had settled in the plantation with a purpose, resolution, and desire, that they might be admitted into churchfellowship, according to Christ. 4. That all free planters held themselves bound to establish such civil order as might best conduce to the securing of the purity and peace of the ordinance to themselves and their posterity, according to God. When these resolutions had been passed, and the people had bound themselves to settle civil government according to the divine word, Mr. Davenport proceeded to represent to them what men they must choose according to the divine word, that they might most effectually secure to themselves and their posterity a just, free, and peaceable government. Time was then given to discuss and deliberate upon what had been proposed. After full discussion and deliberation, it was determined: 5. That the churchmembers only should be free burgesses, and that they should choose magistrates, among themselves, to have power of transacting all the public civil affairs of the plantation, of making and repealing laws, dividing inheritances, deciding of differences that may arise, and doing all things and business of a like nature. That civil officers might be chosen and government proceed according to these resolutions, it was necessary that a church should be formed. Without this there could be neither freedmen nor magistrates. Mr. Davenport thereupon proceeded to make proposals relative to forming it, in such a manner that no blemish might be left on the beginnings of church work. It was then resolved to this effect 6. That twelve men should be chosen, that their fitness for the foundationwork might be tried, and that it should be in the power of those twelve men to choose seven to begin the church. It was agreed that if seven men could not be found among the twelve qualified for the foundationwork, that such other persons should be taken into the number, upon trial, as should be judged more suitable. The form of a solemn charge, or oath, was drawn up and agreed upon at this meeting, to be given to all the freemen. Further, it was ordered that all persons who should be received as free planters of that corporation, should submit to the fundamental agreement above related, and, in testimony of their submission, should subscribe their names among the freemen. Sixtythree subscribed on the 4th of June, and soon after fifty other names were added. After a proper term of trial, Theophilus Eaton, Mr. John Davenport, Robert Newman, Matthew Gilbert, Thomas Fugill, John Punderson, and Jeremiah Dixon, were chosen for the seven pillars of the church. October 25, 1639, the Court, as it is termed, consisting of these seven persons only, convened, and after a solemn address to the Supreme Majesty, they proceeded to form a body of freemen, and to elect civil officers. The manner was, indeed, singular and curious. In the first place, all former trust for managing the public affairs of the plantation was declared to cease, and be utterly abrogated. Then all those who had been admitted to the church after the gathering of it in the choice of the seven pillars, and all the members of other approved churches who desired it, and offered themselves, were admitted members of the Court. A solemn charge was then publicly given them, to the same effect as the freemens charge, or oath, which they had previously adopted. The purport of this was nearly the same with the oath of fidelity at the present time. Mr. Davenport expounded several scriptural texts to them, describing the character of civil magistrates given in the sacred oracles. Theophilus Eaton, Esq., was chosen Governor; Mr. Robert Newman, Matthew Gilbert, Nathaniel Turner, and Thomas Fugill, were chosen magistrates; Mr. Fugill was also chosen secretary, and Robert Seeley, marshal. Mr. Davenport gave Governor Eaton a charge, in open Court, from Deuteronomy i. 16, 17. It was decreed by the freemen that there should be a General Court annually in the plantation, on the first week in October. This was ordained a court of election in which all the officers of the colony were to be chosen. This Court determined that the word of God should be the only rule for ordering affairs of government in that Commonwealth. This was the original fundamental Constitution of the government of New Haven. All government was originally in the church, and the members of the church elected the Governor, magistrates, and other officers. The magistrates at first were no more than assistants of the Governor; they might not act in any sentence or determination of the Court. No DeputyGovernor was chosen, nor were any laws enacted, except the general resolutions which have been noticed; but as the plantation enlarged, and new towns were settled, new orders were given; the General Court received a new form, laws were enacted, and the civil polity of this jurisdiction gradually advanced, in its essential parts, to a near resemblance of the government of Connecticut. Upon these resolutions were based the Blue Laws which will appear in the work.ED. NOTE. 16 William, Thomas, and Hugh Peters were brothers, and born in Fowery, in Cornwall, in Old England. Their father was a merchant of great property, and their mother was Elizabeth Treffry, daughter of John Treffry, Esq., of a very ancient and opulent family in Fowery. William was educated at Leyden, Thomas at Oxford, and Hugh at Cambridge Universities. About the year 1610 and 1620, Thomas and Hugh were clergymen in London, and William was a private gentleman. About 1628 Thomas and Hugh, rendered obnoxious by their popularity and Puritanism, were silenced by the Bishop of London. They then went to Holland, and remained there till 1633, when they returned to London. The three brothers sold their landed property, and went to NewEngland in 1634. Hugh settled at Salem, and became too popular for Mather and Cotton. He was soon appointed one of the Trustees of the College at NewCambridge. He built a grand house, and purchased a large tract of land.The yard before his house he paved with flintstones from England; and, having dug a well, he paved that round with flintstones also, for the accommodation of every inhabitant in want of water. It bears the name of Peterss Spring to this day.He married a second wife, by whom he had one daughter named Elizabeth. The renown of this zealot increasing, he received an invitation to remove from Salem to Boston, and, complying with it, he there laid the foundationstone of the great MeetingHouse, of which the Rev. Dr. Samuel Cooper, one of the most learned of the Literati in America, is the present minister. Mather and Cotton ill brooked being outrivalled by Hugh; yet, finding him an orthodox fanatic, and more perfect than themselves, they seemingly bowed to his superiority, at the same time that they laid a snare for his destruction. In 1641 those envious pastors conspired with the Court at Boston to convert their Bishop Hugh into a Politician, and appoint him agent to Great Britain.The Plot succeeded; and Hugh assumed his agency under colour of petitioning for some abatement of customs and excise; but his real commission was to foment the civil discontents, jars, and wars, then prevailing between the King and Parliament.Hugh did not see into the policy of Mather and Cotton; and he had a strong inclination to chastise the Bishops and Court, who had turned him out of the Church for his fanatical conduct. On his arrival in London, the Parliament took him into their service.The Earls of Warwick and Essex were also his patrons.In 1644, the Parliament gave him Archbishop Lauds library; and soon after made him Head of the Archbishops Court, and gave him his estate and palace at Lambeth:all of which Hugh kept till the Restoration, when he paid for his zeal, his puritanism, and rebellion, on a gibbet at CharingCross.His daughter married a merchant in Newport, RhodeIsland, and lived and died with an excellent character.Her Father having met with so tragical an end, I omit to mention her Husbands name, whose Posterity live in good reputation.Governor Hutchinson reports, that the widow of Hugh Peters was supported, till 1671, by a collection at Salem, of 30l. per ann. Were this report true, it would be much to the reputation of Salem for having once relieved the unfortunate. Mr. Hutchinson might have pointed out the cause of the unhappy widows necessity; but he has left that part to me, and here it follows:After Hughs Death, the selectmen of Salem were afraid that the King Charles II. would seize on his estate in Salem, as had been the case in regard to what the Parliament had given him in England. They therefore trumped up a debt, and seized and sold the said estate to the families of Lyndes and Curwin, who possess it to the present time;and the selectmen of Salem allowed the widow 30l. per ann. for the wrong they had done her and her daughter. It is not likely that the widow was supported by any charitable collection; for William Peters was a man of great property, and had a deed of the whole peninsula whereon Boston stands, which he purchased of Mr. Blaxton, who bought it of the Plymouth Company; though Mr. Hutchinson says Blaxtons title arose merely from his sleeping on it the first of any Englishman.17This was well said by Mr. Hutchinson, who wanted to justify the people of Salem in seizing the land and expelling Mr. Blaxton from his settlement in 1630, because he said he liked LordsBrethren less than LordsBishops.Moreover, Thomas Peters, at the same time, was living at Saybrook, and was not poor.Those two Gentlemen were able and willing to support the widow of an unfortunate brother whom they loved very tenderly.They took great care of his daughter, and left her handsome legacies.From these considerations, I am induced to believe, that the widow of Hugh Peters never subsisted on any contributions, except what she received from her brothers William and Thomas Peters.Mr. Hutchinson makes a curious remark, viz., If Hugh Peters had returned to his parish, he would not have suffered as he did.He might have said, with greater propriety, that, if Hugh Peters had not been a fanatic and a rebel more zealous than wise, he never would have left his Parish for the agency of the people of NewEngland, who never paid him the stipulated allowance for his support in England, tho he gave them thanksgivingdays, instead of fasting, for the space of twenty years, and procured, in 1649, from Oliver Cromwell, a charter for the Company for propagating the Gospel in NewEngland, which, by contributions raised in England, have supported all the missionaries among the Indians to the present time;yet Mr. Hutchinson and Neal write largely about the vast expense the MassachusetsBay have been at in spreading the Gospel among the poor savages! I cannot forbear here to notice an abuse of this charter. Notwithstanding it confines the views of the Company to NewEngland, yet they, and their Committee of Correspondence in Boston, have of late years vouchsafed to send most of their Missionaries out of NewEngland, among the Six Nations, and the unsanctified episcopalians in the Southern Colonies, where was a competent number of church clergymen. Whenever this work of supererogation has met with its deserved animadversion, their answer has been, that, though Cromwell limited them to NewEngland, yet Christ had extended their bounds from sea to sea! With what little reason do they complain of King Williams charter to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts? This Society have sent Missionaries to NewEngland, where they have an undoubted right to send them, to supply episcopal Churches already established there; whereas the other Society send Missionaries beyond the limits of their charter, to alienate the minds of the episcopal Indians of the Six Nations, against the episcopal Missionaries and the Government of the MotherCountry.And they have been too successful; especially since the Rev. Dr. Eleazer Wheelock, Dr. Whitaker, and the Rev. Mr. Sampson Occom, by the Charity of England, have joined in the same work.To the General Assembly, and the Consociation of Connecticut, Dr. Wheelock and his associates are much beholden for their success in converting the poor benighted savages in the howling wilderness. Their merits are great, and their reward is pending.ED. NOTE. 17 The Rev. Mr. Blaxton had lived on Shawmut, or the peninsula on which Boston is built, above nine years before June, 1630, when he was driven away from his possessions by the pious people of Salem, because he was not pleased with the religious system of those newcomers.They were so generous as to vote a small lot to Mr. Blaxton, near BostonNeck, as a compensation for the whole peninsula, and for his banishment on pain of death not to return.Blaxton afterwards sold his right to William Peters, Esq. but who was kept out of possession of it by the supreme power of the People. 18 As tobacco about this time was coming into use in the colony, a very curious law was made for its regulation or suppression. It was ordered that no person under twenty years of age, nor any other who had not already accustomed himself to the use of it, should take any tobacco until he had obtained a certificate, from under the hand of an approved physician, that it was useful for him, and until he had also obtained a license from the Court. All others who had addicted themselves to the use of it were prohibited from taking it in any company, or at their labors, or in traveling, unless ten miles at least from any company; and, though not in company, not more than once a day, upon pain of a fine of a sixpence for every offense. One substantial witness was to be sufficient proof of the crime. The constables of the several towns were to make presentment to the particular Courts, and it was ordered that the fine should be paid without gainsaying.ED. NOTE. 19 The Savage Pawawwers, or Priests, never concern themselves with marriages, but leave them to the Paniesh, or Magistrates. 20 The Levitical law forbids cutting the hair, or rounding the head. 21 Dixwell died and lies buried in Newhaven. His grave is visited by the sober dissenters with great reverence and veneration; nay, even held sacred as the tomb at Mecca. Here are buried also the children of Colonel Jones, and many other rebels. 22 An affair had happened at New Haven, a few months before this, which now began to alarm the country, and soon gave great anxiety and trouble to the colony. Very soon after the restoration, a large number of judges of King Charles I., commonly termed regicides, were apprehended and brought upon their trials in the Old Bailey. Thirtynine were condemned, and ten executed as traitors. Some others, apprehensive of danger, fled out of the kingdom before King Charles II. was proclaimed. Colonels Whalley and Goffe made their escape to New England. They were brought over by one Captain Gooking, and arrived in Boston in July, 1660. Governor Endicott, and gentlemen of character in Boston and its vicinity, treated them with peculiar respect and kindness. They were gentlemen of singular abilities, and had moved in an exalted sphere. Whalley had been a lieutenantgeneral, and Goffe a majorgeneral, in Cromwells army. Their manners and appearance commanded universal respect. They soon went from Boston to Cambridge, where they resided until February. They resorted openly to places of public worship on the Lordsday, and at other times of public devotion. They were universally esteemed by all men of character, both civil and religious. But no sooner was it known that the judges had been condemned as traitors, and that these gentlemen were excepted from the act of pardon, than the principal gentlemen in the Massachusetts began to be alarmed. Governor Endicott called a court of magistrates to consult measures for apprehending them. However, their friends were so numerous that a vote could not at that time be obtained to arrest them. Some of the court declared that they would stand by them; others advised them to move out of the colony. Finding themselves unsafe at Cambridge, they came, by the assistance of their friends, to Connecticut. They made their route by Hartford, and went directly to New Haven. They arrived about the 27th of March, and made Mr. Davenports house the place of their residence. They were treated with the same marks of esteem and generous friendship at New Haven which they had received in Massachusetts. The more the people became acquainted with them the more they esteemed them, not only as men of great minds, but of unfeigned piety and religion. For some time they appeared to apprehend themselves as out of danger, and happily situated among a number of pious and agreeable friends. But it was not long before the news of the kings proclamation against the regicides arrived, requiring that, wherever they might be found, they should be immediately apprehended. The Governor of Massachusetts, in consequence of the royal proclamation, issued his warrant to arrest them. As they were informed by their friends of all measures adopted respecting them, they removed to Milford. There they appeared openly in daytime, but at night often returned privately to New Haven, and were generally secreted at Mr. Davenports, until about the last of April. In the mean time, the Governor of Massachusetts received a royal mandate requiring him to apprehend them; and a more full circumstantial account of the condemnation and the execution of the ten regicides, and of the disposition of the Court toward them, and the republicans and Puritans in general, arrived in New England. This gave a more general and thorough alarm to the whole country. A feigned search had been made in the Massachusetts, in consequence of the former warrant, for the Colonels Whalley and Goffe; but now the Governor and magistrates began to view the affair in a more serious point of light, and appear to have been in earnest to secure them. They perceived that their own personal safety and the liberties and peace of the country were concerned in the manner of their conduct toward these unhappy men. They therefore immediately gave a commission to Thomas Kellond and Thomas Kirk, two zealous young royalists, to go through the colonies as far as Manhadoes, and make a careful and universal search for them. They pursued the judges to Hartford, and, repairing to Governor Winthrops, were nobly entertained. He assured them that the colonels had made no stay in Connecticut, but went directly to New Haven. He gave them a warrant, and instructions similar to those which they had received from the Governor of Massachusetts, and transacted everything relative to the affair with dispatch. The next day they arrived at Guilford, and opened their business to DeputyGovernor Leet. They acquainted him that, according to the intelligence which they had received, the regicides were at New Haven. They desired immediately to be furnished with powers, horses, and assistance, to arrest them. But here they were very unwelcome messengers. Governor Leet and the principal gentlemen in Guilford and New Haven had no ill opinion of the judges. If they had done wrong in the part they had acted, they viewed it as an error in judgment, and as the fault of great and good men, under peculiar and extraordinary circumstances. They were touched with compassion and sympathy, and had real scruples of conscience with respect to delivering up such men to death. They viewed them as the excellent of the earth, and were afraid to betray them, lest they should be instrumental in shedding innocent blood. They saw no advantage in putting them to death. They were not zealous, therefore, to assist in apprehending them. Governor Leet said he had not seen them in nine weeks, and that he did not believe they were at New Haven. He read some of the papers relative to the affair with an audible voice. The pursuivants observed to him that their business required more secrecy than was consistent with such a reading of their instructions. He delayed furnishing them with horses until the next morning, and utterly declined giving them any powers until he had consulted his Council at New Haven. They complained that an Indian went off from Guilford to New Haven in the night, and that the Governor was so dilatory the next morning that a messenger went on to New Haven before they could obtain horses for their assistance. The judges were apprized of every transaction respecting them, and they and their friends took their measures accordingly. They changed their quarters from one place to another in the town as circumstances required, and had faithful friends to give them information, and to conceal them from their enemies. On the 13th of March the pursuers came to New Haven, and Governor Leet arrived in town soon after them to consult his Council. They acquainted him that, from the information they had received, they were persuaded that the judges were yet in town, and pressed him and the magistrates to give them a warrant and assistance to arrest them without any further delay. But, after the Governor and his Council had been together five or six hours, they dispersed without doing anything relative to the affair. The Governor declared that he could not act without calling a general assembly of the freedmen. Kellond and Kirk observed to him that the other governors had not stood upon such niceties; that the honor and justice of his Majesty were concerned, and that he would highly resent the concealment and abetting of such traitors and regicides. They demanded whether he and his Council would own and honor his Majesty? The Governor replied: We do honor his Majesty, but have tender consciences, and wish first to know whether he will own us.(Report of Kellond and Kirk to Governor Endicott, to which they gave oath in the presence of the Governor and Council.) The tradition is, that the pursuers searched Mr. Davenports house, and used him very ill. They also searched other houses where they suspected that the regicides were concealed. The report is that they went into the house of one Mrs. Eyers, where they actually were concealed, but she conducted the affair with such composure and address that they imagined that the judges had just made their escape from the house, and they went off without making any search. It is said that once, when the pursuers passed a bridge, the judges were concealed under it. Several times they narrowly escaped, but never could be taken. The zealous royalists, not finding the judges in New Haven, prosecuted their journey to the Dutch settlement, and made interest with Stuyvesant, the Dutch Governor, against them. He promised them that, if the judges should be found within his jurisdiction, he would give them immediate intelligence, and that he would prohibit all ships and vessels from transporting them. Having thus zealously prosecuted the business of their commission, they returned to Boston, and reported the reception which they had met with at Guilford and New Haven. Upon this report, a letter was written by Secretary Rawson, in the name of the General Court of Massachusetts, to Governor Leet and his Council, on the subject. It represented that many complaints had been exhibited in England against the colonies, and that they were in great danger. It was observed that one great source of complaint was their giving such entertainment to the regicides, and their inattention to his Majestys warrant for their arrest. This was represented as an affair which hazarded the liberties of all the colonies, and especially those of New Haven. It was intimated that the safety of particular persons, no less than that of the colony, was in danger. It insisted that the only way to expiate their offense, and save themselves harmless, was without delay to apprehend the delinquents. Indeed, the Court urged that not only their own safety and welfare, but the essential interests of their neighbors, demanded their indefatigable exertions to exculpate themselves. Colonels Whalley and Goffe, after the search which had been made for them at New Haven, left Mr. Davenports, and took up their quarters at Mr. William Joness, soninlaw to Governor Eaton, and afterward DeputyGovernor of New Haven and Connecticut. There they secreted themselves until the 11th of May. Thence they removed to a mill in the environs of the town. For a short time they made their quarters in the woods, and then fixed them in a cave in the side of a hill, which they named Providence Hill. They had some other places of resort, to which they retired as occasion made necessary, but this was generally the place of their residence until the 19th of August. When the weather was bad, they lodged at night in a neighboring house. It is not improbable that sometimes, when it could be done with safety, they made visits to their friends at New Haven. In fact, to prevent any damage to Mr. Davenport or the colony, they once or more came into the town openly and offered to deliver up themselves to save their friends. It seems it was fully expected at that time that they would have done it voluntarily, but their friends neither desired nor advised them by any means to adopt so dangerous a measure. They hoped to save themselves and the colony harmless without such a sacrifice. The magistrates were greatly blamed for not apprehending them at this time in particular. Secretary Rawson, in a letter of his to Governor Leet, writes: How ill this will be taken, is not difficult to imagineto be sure, not well. Nay, will not all men condemn you as wanting to yourselves? The General Court of Massachusetts further acquainted Governor Leet that the colonies were criminated by making no application to the king since his restoration, and for not proclaiming him as their king. The Court, in their letter, observed that it was highly necessary that they should send an agent to answer for them at the Court of England.ED. NOTE. 23 About this time, it seems, Governor Winthrop took passage for England. Upon his arrival he made application to Lord Say and Seal, and other friends of the colony, for their countenance and assistance. Lord Say and Seal appear to have been the only nobleman living who was one of the original patentees of Connecticut. He held the patent in trust, originally, for the puritanic exiles. He received the address from the colony most favorably, and gave Governor Winthrop all the assistance in his power. The Governor was a man of address, and he arrived in England at a happy time for Connecticut. Lord Say and Seal, the great friend of the colony, had been particularly instrumental in the restoration. This had so brought him into the kings favor, that he had been made Privy Seal. The Earl of Manchester, another friend of the Puritans and of the rights of the colonies, was chamberlain of his Majestys household; he was an intimate friend of Lord Say and Seal, and had been united with him in defending the colonies, and pleading for their establishment and liberties. Lord Say and Seal engaged him to give Mr. Winthrop his utmost assistance. Mr. Winthrop had an extraordinary ring, which had been given to his grandfather by King Charles I., which he presented to the king. This, it is said, exceedingly pleased his Majesty, as it had been once the property of a father most dear to him. Under these circumstances the petition for Connecticut was presented and received with uncommon grace and favor. Upon the 20th of April, 1662, his Majesty granted the colony his letters patent, conveying the most ample privileges, under the great seal of England. It confirmed unto it the whole tract of country granted by King Charles I. to the Earl of Warwick, and which was the next year by him consigned to Lord Say and Seal, Lord Brook, and others. The patent granted the lands in fee and common socage. The facts stated and pleaded in the petition were recognized in the Charter, nearly in the same form of words, as reasons for the royal grant, and of the ample privileges it conveyed. It ordained that John Winthrop, John Mason, Samuel Wyllys, Henry Clark, Matthew Allen, John Tapping, Nathan Gould, Richard Treat, Richard Lord, Henry Wolcott, John Talcott, Daniel Clark, John Ogden, Thomas Welles, Obadiah Brune, John Clark, Anthony Hawkins, John Deming, and Matthew Camfield, and all such others as there were, or should afterward be, admitted and made free of the corporation, should forever after be one body corporate and politic, in fact and name, by the name of the Governor and Company of the English Colony of Connecticut, in New England, in America; and that, by the same name, they and their successors should have perpetual succession. They were capacitated, as persons in law, to plead and be impleaded, to defend and be defended, in all suits whatsoever; to purchase, possess, lease, grant, demise, and sell lands, tenements, and goods, in as ample a manner as any of his Majestys subjects or corporations in England. The Charter ordained that there should be, annually, two General Assemblies; one holden on the second Thursday in May, and the other on the second Thursday in October. This was to consist of the Governor, DeputyGovernor, and twelve assistants, with two deputies from every town or city. John Winthrop was appointed Governor, and John Mason DeputyGovernor, and the gentlemen named above, magistrates, until a new election should be made.ED. NOTE. 24 Before the session of the General Assembly of Connecticut, in October, the Charter was brought over; and, as the Governors and magistrates appointed by his Majesty were not authorized to serve after this time, a general election was appointed on the 9th of October. John Winthrop, Esq., was chosen Governor, and John Mason, Esq., DeputyGovernor; the magistrates were those mentioned in the patent, and were appointed by his Majesty, with Mr. Baker and Mr. Sherman; and John Talcott, Esq., was Treasurer, and Daniel Clark, Esq., Secretary. Upon the day of the election the Charter was publicly read to the freemen, and declared to belong to them and their successors. They then proceeded to make choice of Mr. Wyllys, Mr. Talcott, and Mr. Allen, to receive the Charter into their custody, and keep it in behalf of the colony. It was ordered that an oath should be administered by the court to the freemen, binding them to a faithful discharge of the trust committed to them. The General Assembly established all former officers, civil and military, in their respective places of trust, and enacted that all the laws of the colony should be continued in full force, except such as should be found contrary to the tenor of the Charter. It was also enacted that the same colony seal should be continued. The major part of the inhabitants of Southhold, several of the people of Guilford, and of the towns of Stamford and Greenwich, tendered their persons and estates to Connecticut, and, petitioning to enjoy the protection and privileges of the Commonwealth, were accepted by the Assembly, and promised the same protection and freedom which was common to the inhabitants of the colony in general. At the same time, it was enjoined on them to conduct themselves peaceably, as became Christians, toward their neighbors, who did not submit to the jurisdiction of Connecticut; and that they should pay all taxes due the ministers, with all the other public charges then due. A message was sent to the Dutch Governor, certifying him of the Charter granted to Connecticut, and desiring him by no means to trouble any of his Majestys subjects, within its limits, with impositions or prosecutions from that jurisdiction. The Assembly gave notice to the inhabitants of Winchester that they were comprehended within the limits of Connecticut, and ordered that, as his Majesty had thus disposed of them, they should conduct themselves as peaceable subjects. Huntington, Setauket, Oyster Bay, and all the towns on Long Island, were obliged to submit to the authority and govern themselves agreeably to the laws of Connecticut. A court was instituted at Southhold, consisting of Captain James Youngs, and the justices of South and East Hampton. The Assembly resolved that all the towns which should be received under their jurisdiction should bear their equal proportion of the charge of the colony in procuring the patent. As the Charter included the colony of New Haven, Matthew Allen, Samuel Wyllys, and the Rev. Messrs. Stone and Hooker, were appointed a committee to proceed to New Haven, and treat with their friends there respecting an amicable union of the two colonies. The committee proceeded to New Haven, and, after a conference with the Governor, magistrates, and principal gentlemen in the colony, left the following declaration to be communicated to the freemen: We declare that, through the providence of the Most High, a large and ample patent, and therein desirable privileges and immunities from his Majesty, being come to our hands, a copy whereof we have left with you to be considered, and yourselves, upon the seacoast, being included and interested therein, the king having united us in one body politic, we, according to the commission wherewith we are intrusted by the General Assembly of Connecticut, do declare, in their name, that it is both their and our earnest desire, that there may be a happy and comfortable union between us and yourselves, according to the tenor of the Charter; that inconveniences and dangers may be prevented, peace and truth strengthened and established through our suitable subjection of the terms of the patent, and the blessing of God on us therein. The authority of New Haven made the following reply: We have received and perused your writings, and heard the copy read of his Majestys letters patent to the Connecticut colony; wherein, though we do not find the colony of New Haven expressly included, yet, to show our desire that matters may be issued in the conserving of peace and amity, with righteousness between them and us, we shall communicate your writings, and a copy of the patent, to the freemen, and afterward with convenient speed return their answer. Only we desire that the issuing of matters may be respited until we may receive fuller information from Mr. Winthrop, or satisfaction otherwise; and that, in the meantime, this colony may remain distinct, entire, and uninterrupted, as heretofore; which we hope you will see cause lovingly to assent unto, and signify the same to us with convenient speed. On the 4th of November the freemen of the colony of New Haven convened in General Court. The Governor communicated the writings to the court, and ordered a copy of the patent to be read. After a short adjournment for consideration in an affair of so much importance, the freemen met again, and proceeded to discuss the subject. The Rev. Mr. Davenport was entirely opposed to a union with Connecticut. He proceeded, therefore, to offer a number of reasons why the inhabitants of New Haven could not be included in the patent of that colony, and for which they ought, by no means voluntary, to form a union. He left his reasons in writing, for the consideration of the freemen. He observed that he should leave others to act, according to the light which they should receive. It was insisted that New Haven had been owned as a distinct government, not only by her sister colonies, by Parliament, and the Protector, during their administration, but by his Majesty, King Charles II.; that it was against the express articles of confederation, by which Connecticut was no less bound than the other colonies; that New Haven had never been notified of any design as to their incorporation with Connecticut, and that they had never been heard on the subject. It was further urged that, had it been designed to unite them with Connecticut, some of their names, at least, would have been put into the patent, with the other patentees; but none of them were there. Hence it was maintained that it never could have been the design of his Majesty to comprehend them within the limits of the Charter. It was argued, that for them to consent to a union would be inconsistent with their oath to maintain that Commonwealth, with all its privileges, civil and religious. It was also urged that it would be incompatible both with their honor and most essential interests. After the affair had been fully debated, the freemen resolved that an answer to Connecticut should be drawn up under the following heads: I. Bearing a proper testimony against the great sin of Connecticut in acting so contrary to righteousness, amity, and peace. II. Desiring that all future proceedings relative to the affair might be suspended until Mr. Winthrop should return, or they might otherwise obtain further information and satisfaction. III. To represent that they could do nothing in the affair until they had consulted the other confederates. The magistrates and elders, with Mr. Law, of Stamford, were appointed a committee, and drew up a long letter in reply to the General Assembly of Connecticut, stating that they did not find any command in the patent to dissolve covenants and alter orderly settlements of New England, nor a prohibition against their continuance as a distinct government. They represented that the conduct of Connecticut, in acting at first without them, confirmed them in those sentiments; and that the way was still open for them to petition his Majesty, and obtain immunities similar to those of Connecticut. They declared that they must enter their appeal from the construction which Connecticut put upon the patent, and desired that they might not be interrupted in the enjoyment of their distinct privileges. The committee also represented that these transactions were entirely inconsistent with the engagement of Governor Winthrop, contrary to his advice to Connecticut, and tended to bring injurious reflections and reproach upon him. They earnestly prayed for a copy of all which he had written to the DeputyGovernor and the Company on the subject. On the whole, they professed themselves exceedingly injured and grieved, and entreated the General Assembly of Connecticut to adopt speedy and effectual measures to repair the breaches which they had made, and to restore them to their former state, as a confederate and sister colony. Connecticut made no reply to this letter, but, at a General Assembly held March 11, 1663, the DeputyGovernor, Matthew and John Allen, and John Talcott, were appointed a committee to treat with their friends in New Haven on the subject of a union. But the hasty measures of the General Assembly in admitting the disaffected members of the several towns under the jurisdiction of New Haven, before they had invited them to incorporate with them, had so soured their minds and prejudiced them, that this committee had no better success than the former. While these affairs were transacted in the colonies, the petition and address of New Haven to his Majesty arrived in England; upon which, Governor Winthrop, who was yet there, by advice of friends of both colonies, agreed that no injury should be done to New Haven, and that the union and incorporation of the two colonies should be voluntary. Therefore, on the 3d day of March, 1663, he wrote to the DeputyGovernor and Company of Connecticut, certifying them of his engagements to the agent of New Haven, and that, before he took out the Charter, he had given assurance to their friends that their interest and privileges should not be injured by the patent. He represented that they were bound by the assurance he had given, and therefore wished them to abstain from all further injury and trouble to that colony. He imputed what they had done to their ignorance of the engagements which he had made. At the same time, he intimated his assurance that, on his return, he should be able to effect an amicable union of the colonies. Connecticut now laid claim to Westchester, and sent one of her magistrates to lead the inhabitants to a choice of their officers, and to administer the proper oaths to such as they should elect. The colony also extended their claim to the Narragansett country, and appointed officers for the government of the inhabitants of Wickford. Notwithstanding the remonstrance of the court at New Haven, their appeal to King Charles II., and the engagements of Governor Winthrop, Connecticut pursued the affair of a union in the same manner in which it was begun. At a session of the General Assembly, August 19, 1663, a committee was again appointed to treat with their friends at New Haven, Milford, Guilford, and Branford, relative to their incorporation with Connecticut. Provided they could not effect a union by treaty, they were authorized to read the Charter publicly at New Haven, and to make declaration to the people there that the Assembly could not but resent their proceedings as a distinct jurisdiction, since they were evidently included within the limits of the Charter granted to the corporation of Connecticut. They were instructed to proclaim that the Assembly did desire, and could not but expect, that the inhabitants of the above towns would yield subjection to the government of Connecticut. At a meeting of the commissioners in September in the same year, New Haven was owned by the colonies as a distinct confederation. Governor Leet and Mr. Fenn, who had been sent from that jurisdiction, exhibited a complaint against Connecticut for the injuries they had done, by encroaching upon their rights, receiving their members under their government, and encouraging them to disown their authority, to disregard their oath of allegiance, and to refuse all attendance on their courts. They further complained that Connecticut had appointed constables in several of their towns, to the great disquiet and injury of the colony. They prayed that effectual measures might be taken to redress their grievances, to prevent further injuries, and secure their rights as a distinct confederation. Governor Winthrop and Mr. John Talcott, commissioners from Connecticut, replied that, in their opinion, New Haven had no just grounds of complaint; that Connecticut had never designed them any injury, but had made to them the most friendly propositions, inviting them to share with them freely in all the important and distinguishing privileges which they had obtained for themselves; that they had sent committees amicably to treat with them; that they were still treating, and would attend all just and friendly means of accommodation. The commissioners of the other colonies, having fully heard the parties, determined that where any act of power had been exerted against the authority of New Haven, the same ought to be recalled, and their power reserved to them entire, until such time as, in an orderly way, it shall be otherwise disposed. With respect to the particular grievances mentioned by the commissioners of New Haven, the consideration of them was referred to the next meeting of the commissioners at Hartford. In this situation of affairs an event took place which alarmed all the New England colonies, and at once changed the opinion of the commissioners, and of New Haven, with respect to their incorporation with Connecticut. King Charles II., on the 12th of March, 1664, gave a patent to his brother, the Duke of York and Albany, of several extensive tracts of land in North America, the boundaries of which are thus described: All that part of the main land of NewEngland, beginning at a certain place called and known by the name of St. Croix, next adjoining to NewEngland, in America, and from thence extending along the seacoast into a certain place called Pemaquie, or Pemaquid, and so up the river thereof to the furthest head of the same, as it tendeth northward, and from thence extending to the river Hembequin, and so upward, by the shortest course, to the river Canada northward; and also all that island or islands commonly called by the general name or names of Meitowax, or LongIsland, situate and being toward the west of Cape Cod, and the narrow Highgansets abutting on the main land, between the two rivers, these called and known by the several names of Connecticut and Hudsons Rivers; and all the land on the west side of Connecticut River, to the east side of the DelawareBay; and also all those several islands called or known by the names of Martins Vineyard, or Nantucks, otherwise Nantucket: together, etc., etc. The concern of the Duke of York for his property, and the aversion both he and his Majesty had for the Dutch, led them to dispatch an army and fleet to New England for the reduction of the Dutch settlement on the continent. Colonel Richard Nichols was chief commander of the fleet and army. Sir Robert Carr, George Cartwirth, and Samuel Maverick, Esq., were appointed commissioners with him, to determine all matters of complaint and controversy, and settling the country in peace. Colonel Nichols arrived in Boston, with the fleet and troops under his command, on the 23d of July, 1664. He then sailed for the New Netherlands on the 20th of August, and made a demand of the town and forts upon the island of Manhadoes. Governor Winthrop, and several magistrates and principal gentlemen of Connecticut, joined him at the west end of Long Island, according to his request. Stuyvesant, the Dutch Governor, was an old soldier, and, had he been better prepared and the people united, doubtless could have made a brave defense. But he had no intimations of the design until the 8th of July, when he received intelligence that a fleet of three or four ships of war, with three hundred and fifty soldiers on board, were about to sail from England against the Dutch settlements. Upon this he immediately ordered that the forts should be put in a state of defense, and sent out spies into several parts of Connecticut for further information. It has been said that the Dutch Governor was negotiating a neutrality with Connecticut when he received the news of the fleets arrival in Boston. Stuyvesant was extremely opposed to a surrender of the fort and town. Instead of submitting to the summons at first sent him, he drew up a long statement of the Dutch claims, and their indubitable right to the country. He insisted that, had the king of England known the justice of their claims, he never would have adopted such measures against them. He concluded by assuring Colonel Nichols that he should not submit to his demands, nor fear any evils but such as God in his providence should inflict upon him. Colonel Nichols, in his first summons, had in his Majestys name given assurance that the Dutch, upon their submission, should be safe as to life, liberty, and property. Governor Winthrop also wrote a letter to the Governor and Council, advising them to surrender. But they were careful to secrete the writings from the people, lest the easy terms proposed should induce them to surrender. The burgomasters and people desired to know of the Governor what was the import of the writings he had received, and especially of the letter from Governor Winthrop. The Dutch Governor and his Council giving them no intelligence, they solicited it the more earnestly. The Governor, irritated at this, in a paroxysm of anger tore the letters to pieces; upon which the people protested against his conduct and all its consequences. While the Governor and Council were thus contending with the burgomasters and people, the English commissioners issued a proclamation to all the inhabitants who would become subject to his Majesty, that they should be protected by his Majestys laws and justice, and enjoy whatever Gods blessing and their honest industry had furnished them with, and all the other privileges with his Majestys English subjects. The Dutch, therefore, on the 27th of August, submitted upon terms of capitulation. The articles secured them in the enjoyment of liberty of conscience in Divine worship, and their own mode of discipline. The Dutch Governor and people became English subjects, enjoyed their estates, and all the privileges of Englishmen. Upon the surrender of the town of New Amsterdam, it was named New York, in honor of the Duke of York. Fort Orange, or Aurania, surrendered on the 24th of September, and was named Albany, after the Duke of York and Albany. Sir Robert Carr proceeded to the Delaware, and on the 1st of October compelled the Dutch and Swedes to capitulate. Upon this day the whole of the New Netherlands became subject to the crown of England. Mr. Whiting, who was in Boston, and learned much of the temper of the commissioners, was sent back in haste to give information of the danger in which, it was apprehended, the colonies were, to advise New Haven to incorporate with Connecticut without delay, and to make a joint exertion for the preservation of their chartered rights. This was pressed not only as absolutely necessary for New Haven, but for the general safety of the country. In consequence of this intelligence a General Court was convened at New Haven on the 11th of August, 1664. Governor Leet communicated the intelligence he had received, and acquainted them that Mr. Whiting and Mr. Bull, in their own name, and in behalf of the magistrates of Connecticut, pressed their immediate subjection to their government. The Court was certified that, after some treaty with these gentlemen, their committee had given an answer, purporting that if Connecticut would, in his Majestys name, assert their claim to the colony of New Haven, and secure them in the full enjoyment of all the immunities which they had proposed, and engage to make a united exertion for the preservation of their chartered rights, they would make their submission. After a long debate the Court resolved that, if Connecticut should come and assist their claim, as had been agreed, they would submit until the meeting of the commissioners of the united colonies. The magistrates and principal gentlemen of the colony seem to have been sensible not only of the expediency, but of the necessity, of an incorporation with Connecticut. The opposition, however, was so general among the people that nothing further was effected. The Court of Commissioners was so near at hand that no further demands were made on New Haven until their advice could be known. The General Assembly met early in September, and passed a remonstrance against the sitting of Governor Leet and DeputyGovernor Jones with the commissioners. In the remonstrance they declared that New Haven was not a colony, but a part of Connecticut, and made claim to it as such. They insisted that owning that as a colony, distinct from Connecticut, after his Majesty had by his letterspatent incorporated it with that colony, was inconsistent with the kings pleasure; would endanger the right of all the colonies, and especially the charterrights of Connecticut. The Assembly, at the same time, declared that they would have a tender regard to their honored friends and brethren at New Haven, and exert themselves to accommodate them with all the immunities and privileges which they conveyed by their Charter. On the 1st of September the Court of Commissioners met at Hartford. The commissioners from New Haven were allowed their seats with the other confederates. The case of New Haven and Connecticut was fully heard, and though the Court did not approve of the manner in which Connecticut had proceeded, yet they earnestly pressed a speedy and amicable union of the two colonies. To remove all obstructions on their part, the commissioners recommended it to the General Courts of Massachusetts and Plymouth, that, in case the colony of New Haven should incorporate with Connecticut, they might then be owned as one colony, and send two commissioners to each meeting; and that the determinations of any four of the six should be equally binding on the confederates as the conclusions of six out of eight had been before. It was also proposed that the meeting, which had been at New Haven, should be at Hartford. In compliance with the advice of the commissioners, Governor Leet convened a General Court in New Haven on the 14th of September, and communicated the advice which had been given them to unite. They considered whether, if the kings commissioners should visit them, they would not be much better able to vindicate their liberty and just rights, in union with Connecticut under the royal patent, than in their present circumstances; and many insisted, notwithstanding, that we stand; as God had kept them to that time, was their best way. Others were intensely of the contrary opinion, and, after a full discussion of the subject, no vote for union or treaty could be obtained. New Haven and Branford were more fixed and obstinate in their opposition to an incorporation with Connecticut than any of the other towns in that colony. Mr. Davenport and Mr. Pierson seem to have been among its chief supporters. They, with many of the inhabitants of the colony, were more rigid with respect to the terms of churchcommunion than the ministers and churches of Connecticut generally were. A considerable number of the churches in Connecticut were in favor of the propositions of the General Council, which met at Cambridge in 1662, relative to baptism of children whose parents were not in full communion. The ministers and churches of New Haven were universally and utterly against them. Mr. Davenport, and others in this colony, were also strong in the opinion that all government should be in the Church. No person in the colony could be a freeman unless he was a member in full communion. But, in Connecticut, all orderly persons possessing a freehold to a certain amount might be made free of the corporation. Those gentlemen who were so strong in their opposition were jealous that a union would mar the purity, order, and beauty of their churches, and have an influence on the civil administrations. Besides, it was a painful reflection that, after they had been at so much pains and expense to form and support themselves as a distinct government, and had been many years owned as one, their existence must cease and their name be obliterated. Milford at this time broke off from them, and would no more either send magistrates or deputies to the General Court. Mr. Richard Law, a principal gentleman in Stamford, also deserted them. In this state of affairs the General Assembly of Connecticut convened on the 13th of October. This was an important crisis with the colony. Their liberties were not only in equal danger with those of the sistercolonies, from the extraordinary powers and arbitrary dispositions and measures of the kings commissioners, but the Duke of York, a powerful antagonist, had received a patent covering Long Island and all that part of the colony west of Connecticut River. William and Anne, the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton, had petitioned his Majesty to restore to them the tract of country granted to their father, James, Marquis of Hamilton, in the year 1635; and his Majesty had, on the 6th of May, 1664, referred the case to the determination of Colonel Nichols and the other commissioners. Besides, the state of affairs with New Haven was neither comfortable nor safe. The Legislature, to conciliate the commissioners and obtain the good graces of his Majesty, ordered a present of five hundred bushels of corn to be made to the commissioners. A large committee was appointed to settle the boundaries between Connecticut and the Duke of York. A committee, consisting of Messrs. Allen, Wyllys, Talcott, and Newburg, was appointed to settle the boundaryline between this colony and Massachusetts, and between Connecticut and Rhode Island. They were instructed not to give away any part of the lands included within the limits of the Charter. Mr. Sherman, Mr. Allen, and the Secretary, were authorized to proceed to New Haven, and, by order of the General Assembly, in his Majestys name to require the inhabitants of New Haven, Milford, Branford, Guilford, and Stamford, to submit to the government established by his Majestys most gracious grant to this colony, and to receive their answer. They were authorized to make declaration, that the Assembly did invest Messrs. Leet, Jones, Gilbert, Fenn, Crane, Treat, and Law, with the powers of magistracy, to govern their respective plantations agreeably to the laws of Connecticut, or such of their own laws as were not inconsistent with the Charter, until their session in May next. The gentlemen appointed to this service on the 19th of November went to New Haven, and proceeded according to their instructions. About this time Governor Winthrop, Mr. Allen, Mr. Gould, Mr. Richards, and John Winthrop, the committee appointed to settle the boundaries between Connecticut and New York, waited upon the commissioners on York Island. After they had been fully heard in behalf of Connecticut, the commissioners determined that the southern boundary of his Majestys colony of Connecticut is the sea; and that Long Island is to be under the government of the Duke of York, as is expressed in plain words in the said patents respectively. We also order and declare, that the creek or river called Mamaroneck, which is reputed to be almost twelve miles to the east of West Chester, and a line drawn from the east point or side, where the fresh water falls into the salt, at highwater mark, northnorthwest to the line of Massachusetts, be the western bounds of said colony of Connecticut; and the plantations lying westward of that creek, and a line so drawn, to be under his Royal Highnesss government; and all plantations lying eastward of the creek and line to be under the government of Connecticut. In consequence of the acts of Connecticut, and the determination of the commissioners relative to the boundaries of the colony, a General Court was called at New Haven on the 13th of December, 1664, and the following resolutions were unanimously passed: I. That by this act or vote we be not understood to justify Connecticuts former actings, nor anything disorderly done by their own people, on such accounts. II. That by it we be not apprehended to have any hand in breaking and dissolving the confederation. III. Yet, in loyalty to the kings Majesty, when an authentic copy of the determination of his Majestys commissioners is published, to be recorded with us, if thereby it shall appear to our committee that we are, by his Majestys authority, now put under Connecticut patent, we shall submit, by a necessity brought upon us by the means of Connecticut aforesaid, but with a solvo jure of our former rights and claims, as a people who have not yet been heard in point of plea.ED. NOTE. 25 While the churches were thus divided, they were alarmed by the appearance of the Quakers. A number of them arrived in Boston in July and August, and had been committed to the common gaol. A great number of their books had been seized with the view to burn them. In consequence of their arrival, and the disturbance they had made in Boston, the commissioners of the united colonies, at their court in September, recommended it to the several General Courts, That all Quakers, Ranters, and other notorious heretics, should be prohibited coming into the united colonies; and that, if they should come or arise among them, they should be forthwith secured and removed out of all the jurisdictions. In conformity with this recommendation, the General Court of Connecticut, in October, passed the following act: That no town within this jurisdiction shall entertain any Quakers, Ranters, Adamites, or such like notorious heretics, or suffer them to continue in them above the space of fourteen days, upon the penalty of 5l. per week for any town entertaining such persons. But the townsmen shall give notice to the two next magistrates or assistants, who shall have the power to send them to prison, for securing them until they can conveniently be sent out of the jurisdiction. It is also ordered that no master of a vessel shall land any such heretics; but if they do, they shall be compelled to transport them again out of the colony, by any two magistrates or assistants, at their first setting sail from the port where they landed them; during which time the assistant or magistrate shall see them secured, upon the penalty of 20l. for any master of any vessel that shall not transport them as aforesaid.ED. NOTE. 26 Mr. Dudley, while president of the commissioners, had written to the Governor and Company, advising them to resign the Charter into the hands of his Majesty, and promising to use his influence in favor of the colony. Mr. Dudleys commission was suspended by a commission to Sir Edmund Andros to be Governor of New England. He arrived in Boston on the 19th of December, 1686. The next day his commission was published, and he took on him the administration of the government. Soon after his arrival he wrote to the Governor and Company that he had a commission from his Majesty to receive their Charter, if they would resign it; and he pressed them, in obedience to the king, and as they would give him an opportunity to serve them, to resign it to his pleasure. At this session of the Assembly the Governor received another letter from him, acquainting him that he was assured, by the advice he had received from England, that judgment was by that time entered upon the quo warranto against their Charter, and that he soon expected to receive his Majestys commands respecting them. He urged them, as he represented it, that he might not be wanting in serving their welfare, to accept his Majestys favor, so graciously offered them, in a present compliance and surrender. But the colony insisted upon their Charter rights, and on the promise of King James, as well as of his royal brother, to defend and secure them in the enjoyment of their privileges and estates, and would not surrender their Charter to either. However, in their petition to the king, in which they prayed for the continuance of their Charter rights, they desired, if this could not be obtained, but it should be resolved to put them under another government, that it might be under Sir Edmunds, as the Massachusetts had been their former correspondents and confederates, and as they were acquainted with their principles and manners. This was construed into a resignation, though nothing could be further from the designs of the colony. The Assembly met, as usual, in October, and the government continued according to the Charter, until the last of the month. About this time Sir Edmund and his suite, and more than sixty regular troops, came to Hartford, where the Assembly were sitting, and demanded the Charter, and declared the government under it dissolved. The Assembly were extremely reluctant and slow with respect to any resolve to surrender the Charter, or with respect to any motion to bring it forth. The tradition is, that Governor Treat represented the great expense and hardships of the colonists in planting the country; the blood and treasure which they had expended in defending it, both against the savages and foreigners; to what hardships and dangers he himself had been exposed for that purpose; and that it was like giving up his life now to surrender the patent and privileges so dearly bought and so long enjoyed. The important affair was debated and kept in suspense until the evening, when the Charter was brought and laid upon the table where the Assembly was sitting. By this time a great number of people were assembled, and men sufficiently bold to enterprise whatever might be necessary or expedient. The lights were instantly extinguished, and one Captain Wadsworth, of Hartford, in the most silent and secret manner, carried off the Charter and secreted it in a large, hollow tree, fronting the house of the Hon. Samuel Wyllys, then one of the magistrates of the colony. The people appeared all peaceable and orderly. The candles were relighted, but the patent was gone, and no discovery could be made of it or of the person who had conveyed it away. It was said that the Charter was delivered up, and that same evening the apartments of Sir Edmund were entered and the patent abstracted; but this does not appear to have been the case. Sir Edmund assumed the government, and the records of the colony were closed in the following words: At a General Court at Hertford, October 31, 1687, His Excellency Sir Edmund Andros, Knight, and CaptainGeneral, and Governor, of his Majestys territories and dominions in New England, by order from his Majesty James II., King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, the 31st of October, 1687, took into his hands the government of the Colony of Connecticut, it being by his Majesty annexed to Massachusets and other colonies under his Excellencys government. FINIS. Sir Edmund appointed officers civil and military. His Council at first consisted of forty persons, and afterward of nearly fifty. Four among the numberGovernor Treat, John Fitz Winthrop, Wait Winthrop, and John Allen, Esquireswere of Connecticut.ED. NOTE. 27 Scarcely anything could be more gloomy and distressful than the state of public affairs in New England at the beginning of this year. But in the midst of darkness light arose. While the people had prayed in vain to an earthly monarch, their petition had been more successfully presented to a higher throne. Providence wrought gloriously for them and the nations deliverance. On the 5th of November, 1688, the Prince of Orange landed at Torbay, in England. He immediately published a declaration of his design in visiting the kingdom. A copy of this was received at Boston by one Mr. Winslow, a gentleman from Virginia, in April, 1689. Governor Andros and his Council were so much alarmed with the news, that they ordered Mr. Winslow to be arrested and committed to jail for bringing a false and traitorous libel in the country. They also issued a proclamation commanding all the officers and people to be in readiness to prevent the landing of any forces which the Prince of Orange might send into that part of America. But the people, who sighed under their burdens, secretly wished and prayed for success to his glorious undertaking. The leaders in the country determined quietly to await the event; but the great body of the people had less patience. Stung with past injuries, and encouraged at the first intimations of relief, the fire of liberty rekindled, and the flame, which for a long time had been smothered in their bosoms, burst forth with irresistible violence. On the 18th of April the inhabitants of Boston and the adjacent towns rose in arms, made themselves masters of the castle, seized Sir Edmund Andros and his Council, and persuaded the old Governor and Council at Boston to resume the government. On the 9th of May, 1689, Governor Robert Treat, DeputyGovernor James Bishop, and the former magistrates, at the desire of the freemen, resumed the government of Connecticut. MajorGeneral John Winthrop was at the same time chosen into the magistracy, to complete the number appointed by the Charter. The freemen voted that, for the present safety of that part of New England called Connecticut, the necessity of its circumstances so requiring, They would restablish government as it was before and at the time Sir Edmund Andros took it, and so have it proceed, as it did before that time, according to charter, engaging themselves to submit to it accordingly, until there should be a legal establishment among them. The Assembly, having formed, came to the following resolutions: That, whereas this Court hath been interrupted in the management of its government, in this Colony of Connecticut, for nineteen months past, it is now enacted, ordered, and declared, that all the laws of this colony, made according to Charter, and courts constituted for the administration of government, as they were before the late interruption, shall be of full force and virtue for the future, and until this Court shall see cause to make further and other alterations, according to the Charter. The Assembly then confirmed all military officers in their respective posts, and proceeded to appoint their civil officers, as had been customary at the May session.ED. NOTE. 28 AN ADDRESS TO KING WILLIAM, JUNE 18, 1689. TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY: The humble address of your Majestys dutiful and loyal subjects, the Governor and Company of your Majestys Colony of Connecticut, in New England. GREAT SOVEREIGN: Great was that day when the Lord, who sitteth upon the floods, and sitteth King forever, did divide his and your adversaries from one another, like the waters of Jordan forced to stand upon an heap, and did begin to magnify you, like Joshua in the sight of all Israel, by those great actions that were so much for the honour of God and the deliverance of the English dominions from popery and slavery; and all this, separated from those sorrows that usually attend the introduction of a peaceable settlement in any troubled state: all which doth affect us with the sense of our duty to return the highest praise unto the King of Kings and Lord of Hosts, and bless him who hath delighted in you, to set you upon the throne of his Israel, and to say, Because the Lord loved Israel forever, therefore has he made you king, to do justice and judgment, c.; also humble and hearty acknowledgement for the great zeal that by your Majesty has been expressed in those hazards you have put your royal person to, and in the expense of so great a treasure in the defense of the Protestant interest. In the consideration of all which, we, your Majestys dutiful and loyal subjects of your said colony, are encouraged humbly to intimate that we, with much favour, obtained a Charter from Charles II., of happy memory, bearing date April 23, 1662, in the fourteenth year of his reign, granted to the Governor and Company of his Majestys Colony of Connecticut, the advantages and privileges whereof made us indeed a very happy people; and, by the blessing of God upon our endeavours, we have made a considerable improvement of your dominions here, which, with the defense of ourselves from the force of both foreign and intestine enemies, has cost us much expense of treasure and blood; yet in the second year of the reign of his late Majesty, King James II., we had a quo warranto served upon us by Edward Randolph, requiring our appearance before his Majestys court in England; and although the time of our appearance was elapsed before the serving the said quo warranto, yet we humbly petitioned his Majesty for his favour and the continuance of our Charter, with the privileges thereof; but we received no other favour but a second QUO WARRANTO: and we well observed that the Charter of London, and of other considerable cities in England, were condemned, and that the Charter of Massachusets had undergone the like fate, plainly saw what we might expect; yet as we not judged it good or lawful to be active in surrendering what had cost us so dear, nor to be altogether silent, we employed an attorney to appear in our behalf, and to prefer our humble address to his Majesty, to entreat his favour quickly upon it; but as Sir Edmund Andros informed us he was empowered by his Majesty to regain the surrender of our Charter, if we saw meet to do so, and to take ourselves under his government, we withstood all these motions, and in our reiterated addresses we petitioned his Majesty to continue us in the full and free enjoyment of our liberties and property, civil and sacred, according to our Charter. We also petitioned that if his Majesty should not see meet to continue us as we were, but was resolved to annex us to some other government, we then desired that (inasmuch as Boston had been our old correspondents, and people whose principles and manners we had been acquainted with) we might be annexed rather to Sir Edmund Andros his government than to Colonel Dungans, which choice of ours was taken for a resignation of our government; though that was never intended by us for such, nor had it the formalities in law to make it a resignation, as we humbly conceive; yet Sir Edmund Andros was commissioned by his Majesty to take us under his government: pursuant to which, about the end of October, 1687, he, with a company of gentlemen and grenadiers to the number of sixty or upward, came to Hertford (the chief seat of this government), caused his commission to be read, and declared our government to be dissolved, and put into commission both civil and military officers through our colony, as he pleased, when he passed through the principal parts thereof. The good people of the colony, though they were under a great sense of injuries they sustained hereby, yet chose rather to be silent and patient than oppose, being, indeed, surprised into an involuntary submission to an arbitrary power; but when the government we were thus put under seemed to us to be determined, and we being in daily fear and hazard of those many inconveniences that will arise from a people in want of a government; being also in continual danger of our lives by reason of the natives being at war with us, with whom we had just fears of our neighbouring French to join, not receiving any order or directions what method to take for our security, we were necessitated to put ourselves into some form of government; and there being none so familiar to us as that of our Charter, nor what we could make so effectual for the gaining the universal compliance of the people, and having never received any intimation of an enrolment of that which was interpreted a resignation of our Charter, we have presumed, by the consent of the major part of the freemen assembled for that end, May 9, 1689, to resume our government according to the rules of our Charter, and this to continue till further order; yet, as we have thus presumed to dispose ourselves, not waiting orders from your Majesty, we humbly submit ourselves herein, entreating your Majestys most gracious pardon; and that what our urgent necessity hath put upon us may no ways interrupt your Majestys grace and favour toward us, your most humble and dutiful subjects, but that in your clemency you would be pleased to grant us such directions as to your princely wisdom may seem meet, with such ratifications and confirmations of our Charter, in the full and free enjoyment of all our properties, privileges, and liberties, both civil and sacred, as therein granted to us by your royal predecessor, King Charles II., which may yet further insure it an inheritance to us and our posterities after us, with what further grace and favour your royal and enlarged heart may be moved to confer upon us; which, we trust, we shall not forget nor be unprofitable under; but as we have this day, with the greatest expressions of joy, proclaimed your Majesty and Royal Consort King and Queen of England, France, and Ireland, with the dominions hereto belonging, so we shall ever pray that God would grant your Majesties long life, and prosperously to reign over all your dominions, and that the great and happy work you have begun may be prospered here, and graciously rewarded with a crown of glory hereafter. ROBERT TREAT, Governor. Per order of the General Court of Connecticut. Signed JOHN ALLEN, Secretary. 29 Dr. Douglas was a naturalist, and a physician of considerable eminence in Boston, where he never attended any religious worship, having been educated in Scotland with such rancorous hatred against episcopacy, that, with his age, it ripened into open scepticism and deism. However, his many severities against the Episcopalians, New Lights, and Quakers, procured him a good name among the Old Lights, and the mongrel christians of NewYork, whose policy and selfinterest have always domineered over conscience and morality. For these reasons, his brother Smith, in his History of NewYork, frequently quotes him, to prove his futile assertions against NewEngland, NewJersey, and Pensylvania. 30 Perhaps their success was facilitated by the consideration, that the quitrent payable to the Crown in NewYork is 2s. 6d. per 100 acres, but only 9d. in Newhampshire. The same may be said, with still more reason, in regard to the lands acquired by NewYork from MassachusetsBay and Connecticut, where the quitrent isnothing. 31 In 1680, the number of Indians, or aborigines, in the whole Province of Connecticut was 4000. This was allowed by the General Assembly. How much greater their number was in 1637, may be estimated from the accounts given by Dr. Mather, Mr. Neal, Mr. Penhallow, and Mr. Hutchinson, of the deaths of Englishmen in the Indian wars, for the space of fortythree years. It has been computed, that from 1637 to 1680, upon an average, one hundred Englishmen were killed yearly in those wars, and that there were killed, with sword and gun, and smallpox, twenty Indians for every one Englishman. If this calculation is just, it appears that the English killed of the Indians, during the abovementioned period, 86,000, to which number the 4000 Indians remaining in 1680 being added, it is clear that there were 90,000 Indians in Connecticut when Hooker began his holy war upon them; not to form conjectures upon those who probably afterwards abandoned the country. This evinces the weakness of the Indian mode of fighting with bows and arrows against guns, and the impropriety of calling Connecticut an howling wilderness in 1636, when Hooker arrived in Hertford. The English in one hundred and thirtysix years have not much more than doubled the number of Indians they killed in fortythree years. In 1770 the number of Indians in Connecticut amounted not to 400 souls. 32 Many years afterward the authors attention was called to this statement; he replied, as to the expression above, by saying, he meant that the pressure of the stream was so great that a crowbar, not having sufficient specific gravity to sink, would actually be carried down the stream upon its surface. As incredulous as this may appear, we have it substantiated by no less a person than the late eminent engineer, John A. Roebling, who built the suspensionbridge over the river at the Niagara Falls, in the following letter: SUSPENSION BRIDGE, April 28, 1855. SAMUEL WILKESON, Esq. DEAR SIR: I received a copy of The Democrat, with your account of my attempting to sound the river. After you left, another attempt was made, with a similar iron, of about forty pounds weight, attached to a No. 11 wire, all freely suspended, so as not to impede the fall of the weight. I then let the weight fall from the bridge, a height of 225 feet. It struck the surface fairly, with the point downmust have sunk to some depth, but was not longer out of sight than one second, when it made its appearance again upon the surface, about 100 feet down stream, and skipped along like a chip, until it was checked by the wire. We then commenced hauling in slowly, which made the iron bounce like a ball, when a cake of ice struck it, and ended the sport. I am satisfied that no metal has sufficient gravity to pierce that current, even with the momentum acquired by a fall of 226 feet. The velocity of the iron, when striking, must have been about equal to 124 feet per second, and, consequently, its momentum near 5,000 pounds. Its surface, opposed to the current, was about fifty superficial inches. This will give an idea of the strength of that current, and, at the same time, hint at the Titan forces that have been at work to scoop out the bed of the Niagara River. I am now satisfied that our friend, the English captain, was sounding in vain. Yours respectfully and truly, JOHN A. ROEBLING. ED. NOTE. 33 Of the separation from the standing churches an account has been given, and of the disorders and oppressions of those times when they commenced. Churches of this character were formed in New London, Stonington, Preston, Norwich, Lyme, Canterbury, Plainfield, Windsor, Suffield, and Middletown. Some of these churches and congregations were nearly as large as some of the standing churches. There were ten or twelve churches and congregations of this denomination, first and last, in the colony. Some of them carried their enthusiasm to a greater extent than others. In New London they carried it to such a degree that they made a large fire to burn their books, clothes, and ornaments, which they called their idols, and which they now determined to forsake, and utterly to put away. This imaginary work of piety and selfdenial they undertook on the Lordsday, and brought their books, necklaces, and jewels, together in the main street. They began by burning their erroneous books, dropping them, one after another, into the fire, pronouncing these words: If the author of this book died in the same sentiments and faith in which he wrote it, as the smoke of this pile ascends, so the smoke of his torment will ascend forever and ever. Hallelujah! Amen. But they were prevented from burning their clothes and jewels. John Lee, of Lyme, told them his idols were his wife and children, and that he could not burn them; it would be contrary to the laws of God and man; that it was impossible to destroy idolatry without a change of heart and of the affections.ED. NOTE. 34 Mr. Hooker died while this work was in course of publication.ED. NOTE. 35 The Rev. Mr. Dean went to England and took orders for the church at Hebron, but died at sea on his return, about the year 1745. The Rev. Mr. Punderson, of Groton, then preached to them, and administered the sacrament, from 1746 to 1752. The people of Hebron were very unfortunate with respect to the gentlemen who went to England for orders in their behalf. A Mr. Cotton, in 1752, received orders for them, but he died, on his passage for NewEngland, with the smallpox. Mr. Graves, of NewLondon, served them from 1752 to 1757. In 1757 one Mr. Usher went for orders in their behalf; he was taken by the French, on his passage to England, and died in captivity. The Rev. Samuel Peters was ordained their priest in August, 1759, and the next year returned to NewEngland. He continued priest at Hebron until the commencement of the Revolutionary War, when he was driven from his country by the mobs of Windham, instigated by Governor Trumbull.ED. NOTE. 36 The following is a portion of a communication to some paper in Connecticut, part of which has been destroyed: MR. PRINTER: You have shewn no partiality in your paper among contending parties, but have given all rational systems, at least all popular plans, a chance in the world by your medeocritical channel. What I am desirous of communicating to the public is very popular: It is, to put the Quacks Club in the East upon a reputible footing, as the licensed Physiognomers in the West. At a meeting held in Connecticut, October, 1767, it was resolved: First: We Etiologists, viz. John Whiggot, Esq. President, Adam Kuncnow, Michel Nugnug, Shazael Bulldunce, Committee for said Club of Quackism. That we may serve each other in our Occupation, we have appointed a meeting to be upon the first Tuesday of every month, for the year ensueing, at the house of Mr. Abram Bruntick, in Green Lane, nigh the Crow Market, straight forward from the sign of the Goose, at the sign of the Looking Glass. Second: To lay some plan to support Dr. Leaffolds Latina Anatomy. Third: To choose a Proluctor, able to defend the high pretensions made by these mercurial sons in the West against your art in Pharmacy, Chemistry, and Physic, in the East. Fourth: To make some Laws for admission of young Quacks into this most popular Club. No doubt the above was a burlesque upon the law that had passed the year before, or rather upon the one the General Assembly refused to pass.ED. NOTE. 37 The episcopal church in Stratford is the oldest of that denomination in the State. But episcopacy made very little progress in Connecticut, until after the declaration of Rector Cutler, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Whitemore, and Mr. Brown, for episcopacy, in 1722. Numbers of Mr. Johnsons and Mr. Whitemores hearers professed episcopacy with them, and set up the worship of God, according to the manner of the Church of England, in the West and NorthHaven. Mr. (afterward Dr.) Johnson was a gentleman distinguished for literature, of popular talents and engaging manners. In 1724, after receiving episcopal ordination in England, he returned to Stratford, and, under his ministry to that and the neighboring churches of that denomination, they were increased.ED. NOTE. 38 An early provision was therefore made by law in Massachusetts and Connecticut for the support of the ministry. In Connecticut all persons were obliged by law to contribute to the support of the Church as well as of the Commonwealth. All rates respecting the support of ministers, or any ecclesiastical affairs, were to be made and collected in the same manner as the rates of the respective towns. Special care was taken that all persons should attend the means of public instruction. The law obliged them to be present at public worship on the Lordsday, and upon all days of public fasting and praying, and of thanksgivings appointed by civil authority, on penalty of a fine of five shillings for every instance of neglect. The Congregational churches were adopted and established by law; but provision was made that all sober, orthodox persons dissenting from them should, upon the manifestation of it to the General Court, be allowed peaceably to worship in their own way. It was enacted, That no person within this Colony shall in any wise embody themselves into Church estate without consent of the General Court and approbation of neighbouring elders. The law also prohibited that any ministry or Church administration should be entertained or attended by the inhabitants of any plantation in the Colony, distinct and separate from, and in opposition to, that which was openly and publicly observed and dispensed by the approved minister of the place; except it was by the approbation of the Court and neighboring churches. The penalty for every breach of this act was 5l.ED. NOTE. 39 The following will show that a Connecticut mob of Sober Dissenters is not inferior to a London mob of drunken Conformists, either in point of ingenuity, low humour, or religious mockery. The stampmaster was declared by the mob at Hertford to be dead. The mob at Lebanon undertook to send Ingersoll to his own place. They made their effigies, one to represent Mr. Grenville, another Ingersoll, and a third the devil. The last was dressed with a wig, hat, and black coat, given by parson Solomon Williams, of Lebanon. Mr. Grenville was honoured with a hat, wig, and coat, a present from Mr. Jonathan Trumbull, who was afterwards chosen Governor, (and who afterwards wrote the letter to General Gage, as appears in a preceding note.) Mr. Ingersoll was dressed in red, with a lawyers wig, a wooden sword, and his hat under his arm, by the generosity of Joseph Trumbull. Thus equipped, the effigies were put into a cart, with ropes about their necks, and drawn towards the gallows. A dialogue ensued between the criminals. Some friendship seemed to subsist between Mr. Grenville and the devil, while nothing but sneers and frowns passed the devil to Ingersoll; and the fawning reverence of the latter gave his infernal Highness such offence, that he turned up his breech and discharged fire, brimstone, and tar in Ingersolls face, setting him all in a blaze; which, however, Mr. Grenville generously extinguished with a squirt. This was many times repeated. As the procession advanced, the mob exclaimed, Behold the just reward of our agent, who sold himself to Grenville, like Judas, at a price! In this manner the farce was continued till midnight, at which time they arrived at the gallows; where a person in a long shirt, in derision of the surplice of a Church clergyman, addressed the criminals with republican Atticisms, railleries, c., concluding thus: May your deaths be tedious and intolerable, and may your souls sink quick down to hell, the residence of tyrants, traitors, and devils! The effigies were then turned off, and, after hanging some time, were hoisted upon a huge pile of wood and burnt, that their bodies might share a similar fate with their souls. This pious transaction exalted the character of Mr. Trumbull, and facilitated his election to the office of Governor; and, what was of further advantage to him, his mob judged that the bones of Ingersolls effigy merited christian burial according to the rites of the Church of England, though he had been brought up a Sober Dissenter, and resolved, therefore, to bury his bones in Hebron. Accordingly, thither they repaired, and, after having made a coffin, dug a grave in a crossstreet, and made every other preparation for the interment, they sent for the episcopal clergyman there to attend the funeral of the bones of Ingersoll the traitor. The clergyman40 told the messengers that neither his office nor his person were to be sported with, nor was it his business to bury Sober Dissenters who abuse the Church while living. The mob, enraged at this answer, ordered a party to bring the clergyman by force, or send him to hell after Ingersoll. This alarmed the people of the town, who instantly loaded their muskets in defence of the clergyman. Thus checked in their mad career, the mob contented themselves with a solemn funeral procession, drums beating and horns blowing, and buried the coffin in the crossstreet, one of the pantomimes bawling out, We commit this traitors bones to the earthashes to dust and dust to ashesin sure and certain hope that his soul is in hell with all tories and enemies in Zion. Then, having driven a stake through the coffin, and each cast a stone upon the grave, they broke a few windows, cursed such clergymen as rode in chaises and were above the control of Gods people, and went off with a witless saying, viz. It is better to live with the Church militant than with the Church triumphant. 40 The Episcopal clergyman was the Rev. Samuel Peters.ED. NOTE. 41 This Mr. Dyer had been in England, had petitioned for, and, through Dr. Franklins interest, obtained a new office at the port of NewLondon, viz. that of Comptroller, but afterwards had thought proper to resign that office, in order to be made a Judge of the Superior Court and one of the Council; and, forsooth, that a stranger only might serve the King of Great Britain in the character of a publican in Connecticut. APPENDIX. The preceding sheets bring the History of Connecticut to its latest period of amity with Great Britain, agreeable to the plan upon which it was begun. I propose laying before my readers, in an Appendix, a summary account of the proceedings of the people of Connecticut immediately leading to their open hostilities against the Mother Country, not only because some events are not at all, or erroneously, known here, but also because they will form a supplement necessary in several instances to what has been already related. Another reason that induces me to make the proposed addition is, the contradictions that have so frequently appeared regarding the statements made by the author of the History, as to acts and laws that were in force in the colony of Connecticut during its early settlement, and which had been handed down to their posterity by the Sober Dissenters, as they called themselves, many of which laws remained in force up to the beginning of the Revolutionary War. Mr. James Hammond Trumbull, a descendant of Governor Trumbull, so frequently spoken of in this work and notes, in a book lately published by him, entitled The True Blue Laws of Connecticut and Newhaven, and the False Blue Laws invented by the Rev. Samuel Peters, has taken unnecessary pains to show that the Blue Laws represented in the History were never published in the colony, and consequently must be factitious. The author of the History himself mentions that they never were published; and had Mr. Trumbull referred to the action of the meeting of the planters in Quinnipiack, the 4th of June, 1639, he would have seen that the general resolutions then and there adopted were to be their laws, and that no laws were enacted. (See Note on pages 4447.) Many writers have endeavoured to point out the motive which prompted the Americans to the wish of being independent of Great Britain, who had for a century and a half nursed and protected them with parental tenderness; but they have only touched upon the reasons ostensibly held up by the Americans, but which are merely a veil to the true causes. These, therefore, I shall endeavour to set before the reader. In the first place: England, as if afraid to venture her Constitution in America, had kept it at an awful distance, and established in many of her colonies republicanism, wherein the democratic absorbs the regal and aristocratic part of the English Constitution. The people naturally imbibed the idea that they were superior to kings and lords, because they controlled their representatives, governors, and councils. This is the infallible consequence of popular governments. Secondly: The English had, like the Dutch, adopted the errors of ancient Rome, who judged that her colonies could be held in subjection only by natives of Rome; and therefore all emoluments were carefully withheld from all natives of the colonies. Thirdly: The learned and opulent families in America were not honoured by their King like those born in Britain. Fourthly: The Americans saw themselves despised by the Britons, though bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh. They felt and complained of, without redress, the sad effects of convicts, the curses of human society and the disgrace of England, taken from the dungeons, jails, and gibbets, and poured into America as the common sewer of England, to murder, plunder, and commit outrage upon the people whom the King did not delight to honour. Hence the rebellion. Human nature is always such that men will never cease struggling for honour, wealth, and power, at the expense of gratitude, loyalty, and virtue. Indignation and despair seized the gentlemen in America, who thought, like Haman, that their affluence and ease was nothing worth so long as they lay under the sovereigns contempt. They declared that the insult reached the whole continent, in which were to be found only two Baronets of Great Britain, while all the other inhabitants were held beneath the yeomanry of England. They added: Let Csar tremble! Let wealth and private property depart, to deliver our country from the injuries of our elder brethren! How easily might the rebellion have been averted by the granting of titles! With what reason faction and discontent spring up in SouthAmerica, may be learned from the dearbought wisdom of Spain, who transported to her colonies her own Constitution in Church and State, rewarded merit in whatever part of her territories it appeared, sent bishops to govern and ordain in every church in SouthAmerica, and they, together with the native noblesse, promoted harmony, the offspring of justice and policy; while NorthAmerica abounded with discord, hatred, and rebellion, entirely from want of policy and justice in their partycoloured charters, and of the honours and privileges of naturalborn subjects of Great Britain. It appears that the British Government, in the last century, did not expect NewEngland to remain under their authority; nor did the NewEnglanders consider themselves as subjects, but allies, of Great Britain. It seems that Englands intent was to afford an asylum to the republicans, who had been a scourge to the British Constitution; and so, to encourage that restless party to emigrate, republican charters were granted, and privileges and promises given them far beyond what any Englishman in England was entitled to. The emigrants were empowered to make laws in Church and State, agreeable to their own will and pleasure, without the Kings approbation; they were excused from all quitrents, all Government taxes, and promised protection without paying homage to the British King, and their children entitled to the same rights and privileges as if born in England. However hard this bargain was upon the side of England, she had performed her part, except in the last respectindeed, the most material in policy and in the minds of the principal gentlemen of NewEngland. The honour of nobility had not been conferred on any of them, and therefore they had never enjoyed the full privileges and liberties of the Britons, but, in a degree, had ever been held in bondage under their chartered republican systems, wherein gentlemen of learning and property attain not to equal power with the peasants. The people of NewEngland were rightly styled republicans; but a distinction should be made between the learned and the unlearned, the rich and the poor. The latter formed a great majority; therefore the minority were obliged to wear the livery of the majority, in order to secure their election into office. These very republican gentlemen were ambitious, fond of the power of governing, and grudged no money or pains to obtain an annual office. What would they not have given for a dignity depending not on the fickle will of a multitude, but on the steady reason and generosity of a king? The merchants, lawyers, and clergy, to appearance were republicans, but not one of them was really so. The truth is, they found necessity on the one hand, and British neglect on the other, to be so intolerable, that they rather chose to risk their lives and fortunes to bring about a revolution, than continue in the situation they were. As to the multitude, they had no cause of complaint: they were accuser, judge, king, and subjects, only to themselves. The rebellion sprung not from them, but from the merchants, lawyers, and clergy, who were never inimical to the aristocratic branch of the Government, provided they were admitted to share in it according to their merits. It is true, they, like Calvin, the author of their religion, maintained that no man can merit anything of the Great Eternal; nevertheless, they thought they had merited the aristocratic honours which emanate from earthly kings; while kings and nobles of the earth imagine themselves to have merited more than they yet enjoyeven heaven itselfonly because they happen to enjoy the honour of being descendants of heroic ancestors. England had also been as careful to keep to herself her religion and bishops as her civil constitutions and baronies. A million of Churchmen in America had been considered as not worthy of one bishop, while eight millions in SouthBritain were scarcely honoured with enough with twentysix: an insult on common justice, which would have extinguished every spark of affection in America for the English Church, and created an everlasting schism, like that between Constantinople and Rome, had not the majority of the American episcopal clergy been possessed of less ambition than love and zeal. They had suffered on both sides of the Atlantic in name and property, for their endeavours to keep up a union between the Mother Country and her children; but all their arguments and persuasions were insufficient to convince their brethren that England would in future be more generous towards her colonies. One of the first fruits of the grand continental meeting of dissenting divines at Newhaven was a coalition between the republican and the minor part of the episcopal clergy, who were soon joined by the merchants, lawyers, and planters, with a view of procuring titles, ordination, and government, independent of Great Britain. Such were the real sources of the rebellion in America. The invasion of this or that colonial right, the oppression of this or that act of Parliament, were merely the pretended causes of it, which the illhumour of a misgoverned people prompted them eagerly to hold upcauses which would never have found existence, whose existence had never been necessary, if a better system of American policy had been adopted; but, being produced, the shadow of complaint was exhibited instead of the substance, pretence instead of reality. Every republican pulpit resounded with invectives against the King, Lords, and Commons, who claimed a power to tax and govern the people of Americaa power which their charters and ancestors knew nothing of. Britons, they said, call our property theirs; they consider us as slavesas hewers of wood and drawers of water to the descendants of those tyrants of Church and State who in the last century expelled and persecuted our fathers into the wilds of America. We have charters sacred as Magna Charta and the Bill of Rights. They declared that the liberties of America ought to be defended with the blood of millions; that the AttorneyGeneral ought to impeach the Parliament of Great Britain, and all its abettors, of high treason, for daring to tax the freemen of America; that each colony was a palatinate, and the people a palatine; that the people of Connecticut had as much authority to issue a writ of quo warranto against Magna Charta, as the King had to order such a writ against the Charter of Connecticut. By ravings of this kind did the Sober Dissenters manifest their discontents, when the various measures for raising a revenue in America were adopted by the British ministry. That of sending tea to America, in 1773, subject to a duty of three pence on the pound, payable in America, particularly excited their clamour, as designed, they said, to establish a precedent of British taxation in this country; and, notwithstanding all the remonstrances of the loyalists, who strenuously exerted themselves in removing vulgar prejudices and procuring a reconciliation with circumstances rendered unavoidable by the necessity cf the times, they effectually inflamed the minds of the populace by reading, in the meetings on Sunday, letters said to have been sent by Dr. Franklin, I. Temple, and others, representing the danger of paying any tax imposed by Parliament, and the evil protestantism was threatened with by a Roman Catholic King, by Jacobites, tories, and episcopal clergy in both countries, all enemies to liberty and the American Vine; and adding that, if the Americans paid the tax on tea, there were three hundred other taxes ready to be imposed upon them, one of which was 50l. for every son born in wedlock, to maintain the natural children of the lords and bishops of England. The moderate counsel of the loyalists had formerly been attended with some effect; but it was forced to give place to the ribaldry just mentioned, and an opposition much more resolute was determined upon against the teaact than had been made to the Stamp Act. A provincial congress, committee of correspondence, committee of safety, in every town, c. c. now started up for the purpose of setting the colony in an uproar against the Parliament of Great Britain. To this end contributed not a little the falsehoods and artifices of Mr. Handcock, and other Boston merchants, who had in their storehouses nearly 40,000 halfboxes of tea, smuggled from the Dutch; which would never have been sold had the Companys teas been once admitted into America, as the latter were not only the better in quality, but, the duty being reduced from one shilling to three pence, would be also the much cheaper commodity. Mr. Handcock and his compatriots, therefore, were by no means wanting in endeavours to procure for the first teas which arrived in NewEngland the reception they met with in the harbour of Boston. That famous exploit afforded them an opportunity of clearing their warehouses, which they prudently resolved to do as soon as possible, lest the reception of the Companys tea in other provinces, or other possible circumstances, should afterwards put it out of their power. An idea began to prevail that a nonimportation of tea was an advisable measure upon the present occasion; accordingly, they advertised that, after disposing of their present stock, they would not import or have any further dealings in tea for two years. This at once tended to fill their pockets, and exalt their characters as patriots. The people, ignorant of the extent of such stock, and apprehensive of being deprived of an article they were so passionately fond of, eagerly furnished themselves with quantities sufficient for that time, mostly of about thirty, forty, and fifty pounds, notwithstanding the prices were advanced one shilling per pound, upon the pretence of raising money to pay for the tea destroyed, in order to secure the religion and liberty of America, which, under that idea, it was generally acknowledged ought to be done. When the tea was mostly disposed of, the people found that the extra price they had given for it was designed for the venders, instead of for the EastIndia Company, whose tea at the bottom of the harbour was not to be paid for. They murmured; whereupon the smugglers voted that they would not drink any more tea, but burn on the Common what they had left. Some tea was disposed of, and the publicspirited transaction blazoned in the newspapers. But this was not all: the smugglers sent letters to the leaders of mobs in the country, enjoining them to wait upon the purchasers of their tea, and compel them to burn it, as a proof of their patriotism. Those honourable instructions were obeyed, to the real grievance of the holders of the tea. Let Mr. Handcock, said they, and the other merchantsmugglers, return us our money, and then you shall be welcome to burn the tea according to their orders. But it signified nothing to dispute the equity of the requisition; the cry was, Join, or die! Nor would the Sons of Liberty be satisfied with anything less than that each owner of tea should with his own hands bring forth the same and burn it, and then sign a declaration that he had acted in this affair voluntarily and without any compulsion, and, moreover, pay the printer for inserting it in the newspapers. An act of Parliament for shutting up the port of Boston was the immediate consequence of the destruction of the EastIndia Companys tea. It took place in June, 1774, and was considered by the Americans as designed to reduce the Bostonians to the most servile and mean compliance ever attempted to be imposed on a free people, and allowed to be infinitely more alarming and dangerous to their common liberties than even the hydra, the Stamp Act. Due care had been taken to enforce it, by sending General Gage, as Governor, to Boston, where he arrived the preceding month with a number of troops. Determined, however, as Parliament seemed, on compulsion, the colonists were equally bent on resistance, and resolved on a Continental Congress to direct their operations. In the mean time, contributions for relieving the distressed people in Boston were voted by the colonies; and Connecticut, through the officiousness of Jonathan Trumbull, its Governor, had the honour of first setting the example, by having a meeting called in Hebron, the inhabitants of which remained loyal and refused to vote for the collection. Governor Trumbull imputed this to the influence of the Rev. Samuel Peters (of whom more will be said hereafter) and his family. Many were the attempts made to ruin his character, but unsuccessfully; he was too well beloved and befriended in the town. Falsehoods and seditions had now for some time been every day increasing in the province; and men who were secret propagators of traitorous opinions, pretended in public to look up to the Consociation, the great focus of Divine illumination, for direction. After much fasting and praying, that holy leaven discovered an admirable method of advancing the blessed work of protestant liberty. The doors of prisons were opened, and prisoners became leaders of mobs composed of negroes, vagabonds, and thieves, who had much to gain and nothing to lose. The besom of destruction first cleared away the creditors of the renegades, and then the Sandemanians, presbyterians, and episcopalians. The unfortunate complained to the Governor and magistrates of the outrages of the banditti, begging the protection of the laws. The following was the best answer returned by the magistrates: The proceedings of which you complain are like the acts of Parliament; but be this as it may, we are only servants of the people, in whom all power centres, and who have assumed their natural right to judge and act for themselves. The loyalists armed, to defend themselves and property against the public thieves; but the Liberty Boys were instantly honoured by the ministers, deacons, and justices, who caused the Grand Jury to indict, as tories and rioters, those who presumed to defend their houses, and the courts fined and imprisoned them. Thus horridly, by night and day, were the mobs driven on by the hopes of plunder and the pleasure of domineering over their superiors. Having sent terror and lamentation through their own colony, the incarnate fiends paid a visit to the episcopalians of Great Barrington, whose numbers exceeded that of the Sober Dissenters. Their wrath chiefly fell upon the Rev. Mr. Bostwick and David Ingersoll, Esq. The former was lashed with his back to a tree, and almost killed; but on account of the fits of his wife and mother, and the screamings of the women and children, the mob released him upon his signing the eighteen articles, or their League or Covenant, as they called it, (which without doubt was the same as that drawn up and written by Governor Trumbull, which will be referred to hereafter.) As to Mr. Ingersoll, after demolishing his house and stealing his goods, they brought him almost naked into Connecticut upon the bare back of a horse, in spite of the distresses of his mother and sister, which were enough to melt the heart of a savage, though producing in the Sober Dissenters but peals of laughter that rent the skies. Treatment so extremely barbarous did Mr. Ingersoll receive at their hands, that the sheriff of Litchfield County could not withhold his interposition, by which means he was set at liberty, after signing the league and covenant. The Grand Jury indicted some of the leaders in this riot, but the Court dismissed them, upon receiving information from Boston that Ingersoll had seceded from the House of Representatives, and declared for the King of England. What caused this irruption of the mob into Great Barrington, follows: The laws of MassachusetsBay gave each town a power to vote a tax for the support of the ministry, schools, poor, c. The money, when collected, was deposited with the town treasurer, who is obliged to pay it according to the determination of the majority of the voters. The Sober Dissenters, for many years, had been the majority in Barrington, and had annually voted about two hundred pounds sterling for the ministry, above half of which was taken from the Churchmen and Lutherans, whose ministers could have no part of it, because separately the greatest number of voters were Sober Dissenters, who gave the whole to their minister. This was deemed liberty and gospel in NewEngland; but mark the sequel. The Lutherans and some other sects having joined the Church party, the Church gained the majority. Next year the town voted the money, as usual, for the ministry, c.; but the majority voted that the treasurer should pay the share appointed for the ministry to the Church clergyman, which was accordingly done; whereupon the Sober Dissenters cried out, Tyranny and persecution! and applied to Governor Hutchinson, then the idol and protector of the Independents, for relief. His Excellency, ever willing to leave Paul bound, found a method of reversing the vote of the majority of the freemen of Barrington in favour of the Churchmen, calling it a vote obtained by wrong and fraud. The Governor, by law or without law, appointed Mayor Hawley, of Northampton, to be Moderator of the townmeeting in Barrington. The Mayor accordingly attended, but, after exerting himself for three days in behalf of his oppressed brethren, was obliged to declare that the episcopalians had a great majority of legal voters; he then went home, leaving matters as he found them. The Sober Dissenters were always so poor in Barrington that they could not have supported their minister without taxing their neighbours; and when they lost that power, their minister departed from them, because, as he said, the Lord had called him to RhodeIsland. To overthrow the majority of the Church, and to establish the American Vine upon its old foundation, was the main intention of the Sober Dissenters of Connecticut in visiting Great Barrington at this time. The warlike preparations throughout the colonies, and the intelligence obtained from certain credible refugees of a secret design, formed in Connecticut and MassachusetsBay, to attack the royal army, induced General Gage to make some fortifications upon BostonNeck for their security. These, of course, gave offence; but much more the excursion of a body of troops, on the 19th of April, 1775, to destroy a magazine of stores at Concord, and the skirmishes which ensued. In a letter of the 28th of April from Mr. Trumbull, the Governor of Connecticut, to General Gage, after speaking of the very just and general alarm given the good people of that province by his arrival at Boston with troops, and subsequent fortifications, he tells the General that the late hostile and secret inroads of some of the troops under his command into the heart of the country, and the violence they had committed, had driven them almost into a state of desperation. Certain it is, that the populace were then so maddened by false representations and aggravations of events, unfortunate and lamentable enough in themselves, as to be quite ripe for the rebellion the Governor and Assembly were on the point of commencing, though they had the effrontery to remonstrate against the defensive proceedings of the General, in order to conceal their own treachery. Further on, in the same letter, Mr. Trumbull writes thus: The people of this colony, you may rely upon it, abhor the idea of taking up arms against the troops of their sovereign, and dread nothing so much as the horrors of civil war; but, at the same time, we beg leave to assure your Excellency that, as they apprehend themselves justified by the principles of selfdefence, so they are most firmly resolved to defend their rights and privileges to the last extremity; nor will they be restrained from giving aid to their brethren, if an unjustifiable attack is made upon them. Is there no way to prevent this unhappy dispute from coming to extremities? Is there no alternative but absolute submission or the desolations of war? By that humanity which constitutes so amiable a part of your character, for the honour of our sovereign, and by the glory of the British empire, we entreat you to prevent it, if it be possible. Surely, it is to be hoped that the temperate wisdom of the empire might, even yet, find expedients to restore peace, that so all parts of the empire may enjoy their particular rights, honours, and immunities. Certainly this is an event most devoutly to be wished for; and will it not be consistent with your duty to suspend the operations of war, on your part, and enable us, on ours, to quiet the minds of the people, at least till the result of some further deliberations may be known? c. c. From this letter, written, as it was, from the Governor of a province at the desire of its General Assembly, the people of England might have learned to think of the American as they did of the French sincerity. It is almost past credit that, amidst the earnest protestations it contains of a peaceable disposition in Mr. Trumbull and the rest of his coadjutors in the Government of Connecticut, they were meditating and actually taking measures for the capture of certain of the Kings forts, and the destruction of General Gage and his whole army, instead of quieting the minds of the people! Yet such was the fact. They had commissioned Motte and Phelps to draft men from the militia, if volunteers should not readily appear, for a secret expedition, which proved to be against Ticonderoga and Crown Point; and the treasurer of the colony, by order of the Governor and Council, had paid 1500l. to bear their expenses. Nay, even before the date of the above amiable epistle, Motte and Phelps had left Hertford on that treasonable undertaking, in which they were joined on the way by Colonels Allen and Easton. Nor was this the only insidious enterprise that they had to cover. The good people throughout the province, to the number of nearly 20,000, were secretly arming themselves, and filing off, to avoid suspicion, in small parties of ten and a dozen, to meet their brethren the Massachusets; not, however, with the view of giving aid, should any unjustifiable able attack be made upon them, but to surprise Boston by storm. In addition to the Governors letter, the mockpeacemakers, the General Assembly, had deputed Dr. Samuel Johnson, son of the Rev. Dr. Johnson, spoken of in this work, and Oliver Wolcott, Esq. both of the Council, which had ordered the 1500l. for the adventurers to Ticonderoga, to wait upon General Gage, the more effectually to amuse and deceive him into confidence and inaction. But happily, at a critical time, just before the intended storm and slaughter at Boston, the news of the success of the secret expedition reached the town, which fully discovered the true character and business of the two Connecticut ambassadors, and rendered it necessary for them, sans crmonie, to retire from Boston, and General Gage immediately to render the fortifications at the Neck impregnable. The Sober Dissenters, chagrined at being disappointed in their hostile project against Boston, readily embraced the opportunities which afforded of wreaking their vengeance upon NewYork. At the instance of the rebel party there, who found themselves too weak to effect their purpose of subverting the Constitution of the province, a large body immediately posted to their assistance, delivered their brethren from the slavery of regal government, and invested them with the liberty of doing that which was fit in their own eyes, under the democratic administration of the immaculate Livingstons, Morris, Schuyler, c. As seemed necessary to the furtherance of their pacific views, frequent irruptions were made afterwards, in which many loyalists were disarmed and plundered, and some of them taken prisoners. Among these last were the Rev. Dr. Seabury and the Mayor of NewYork. Governor Tryon happily escaped their fury; as also did the Rev. Miles Cooper, LL.D., who was leaving his house through a back window when a party of ruffians burst into his chamber and thrust their bayonets into the bed he had just quitted. Mr. Rivington was one of the sufferers by the loss of his property. These good people of Governor Trumbulls, who dreaded nothing so much as a civil war, with the reverse of reluctance, plundered his house of all printing materials and furniture, and carried the type to Newhaven, where they were used in the service of Congress. The Kings statue, however, maintained its ground till after General Washington, with the Continental army, had taken possession of the city; when it was indicted for high treason against the Dominions of America, found guilty, and received a quaint sentence of this kind, viz. That it should undergo the act of decollation; and, inasmuch as it had no bowels, its legs should be broken, and that the lead of it should be run into bullets, for the destruction of the English bloodybacks, and the refuse cast into the sea. The sentence was immediately carried into execution, amidst the huzzas and vociferations of Praise ye the Lord! This insult upon his Majesty, General Washington, to his credit, thought proper thus to notice in his general orders of the next day. He was sorry, he said, that his soldiers should in a riotous manner pull down the statue of the King of Great Britain. While General Washington remained in possession of NewYork, Connecticut served as a prison for those persons who had the misfortune to fall under his suspicion as disaffected to the cause of freedom. He was himself, however, at length obliged to evacuate it by General Howe, to the great relief of such royalists as remained. In April, 1777, some magazines having been formed by the Americans at Danbury and Ridgfield, MajorGeneral Tryon was sent with 1800 men to carry off or destroy them. They reached the places of their destination with little opposition; but the whole force of the country being collected to obstruct their return, the General was obliged to set the stores on fire, by which means those towns were unavoidably burnt. David Wooster, the rebel general, Benedict Arnolds old friend and acquaintance, and mobbing confederate, received a fatal ball through his bladder as he was harassing the rear of the royal troops, of which, after being carried forty miles to Newhaven, he died, and was buried by the side of the grave of David Dixwell, one of the Judges of Charles the First. In the summer of 1779 Sir Henry Clinton sent General Tryon, with a large party of soldiers, for the relief of the loyalists in Connecticut. They landed at Newhaven after much opposition, and, having accomplished their object, sailed to Fairfield, which town they were necessitated, by the opposition of the rebels, to set fire to, before the loyalists could be released from prison. General Tryon then repaired to Norwalk, where, having by proclamation enjoined the inhabitants to keep within their houses, he ordered sentinels to be stationed at every door to prevent disordersa tenderness, however, they insulted, by firing upon the very men thus appointed to guard them. The consequence was, destruction to themselves, and the whole town, which was laid in ashes. I have now mentioned the principal proceedings by which the people of Connecticut had distinguished themselves in bringing on and supporting the rebellion in America, and that, I believe, in a manner sufficiently particular to show their violence and deceit. It is very observable that a peculiar characteristic resolution appeared to possess the people of Connecticut. As, on the one hand, rebellion had erected her crest in that province with more insolence and vigour than in the rest, so, on the other hand, loyalty had there exhibited proofs of zeal, attachment, perseverance, and fortitude, far beyond example elsewhere to be found in America. In particular, the episcopal clergy had acquired immortal honour by their steady adherence to their oaths and firmness under the assaults of their enemies; not a man among them all, in this fiery trial, having dishonoured either the King or Church of England by apostacy. The sufferings of some of them I cannot pass over in silence. Among the greatest enemies to the cause of the Sober Dissenters, and among the greatest friends to that of the Church of England, the Rev. Samuel Peters stood conspicuous. A descendant of one of the first settlers in the colony, greatly venerated and beloved by the inhabitants of Hebron, where he was born in 1735, and being a man of such truth and integrity as to command great weight in all that concerned the benefits of the colony, it may not be out of place to give a slight sketch of the treatment he received at the commencement of the war, and the cause that drove him from his native country.42 In the year 1758 Dr. Peters went to England for the purpose of being ordained. He had been in ill health for some time previous to this, but was most anxious for his ordination on account of the church in Hebron being vacant. He remained in England, very feeble, for some time, and refused a living there because he wished to return to his numerous relations and friends in NewEngland, and especially to Hebron, where he had left his mother, whom he highly loved and venerated for her maternal tenderness, wisdom, and piety, and for the sake of the episcopal church in that town, erected in 1785, which never had a resident clergyman, though they had sent four candidates to London for holy orders, and all perished in going or returning, viz. The Rev. B. Dean, in returning, the ship and crew were lost in a storm; the Rev. Jonathan Cotton, returning, died at sea with the smallpox; the Rev.  Feveryear, died on returning in the WestIndies; Mr. James Usher, A. M., in going out, was taken by the French and carried into Bayonne, dying there with the smallpox. These four deaths manifested the want of a bishop in NorthAmerica, which was owing to bad policy, and not religion, and was one great reason of the separation of the two countries, as clearly now appears by bishops being now established in many States without any offence to other protestant sects of christians. His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury and the LordBishop of London willingly gratified the wish of Dr. Peters, appointing him Rector of Hebron and Hertford. The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts appointed him their itinerant missionary in NewEngland, and his Majesty George the Second granted him his letterspatent of protection to all governors, admirals, generals, and officers by sea and land, to protect him against all insults and abuse, and to support him at all times in his sacred office. Dr. Peters returned to Hebron in 1760, and was received with much joy and gratitude by the people of all denominations, with whom he had lived fourteen years in love, peace, and harmony, without knowing an enemy, until the tea belonging to the EastIndia Company was destroyed in Boston. The news, reaching Hertford, caused great surprise and sorrow, and the people condemned the illegal and violent action of the mob in Boston. The news soon reached England, and the Government sent General Gage and Admiral Graves to block up the harbour of Boston and demand payment for the teas destroyed. Soon after their arrival at Boston a report was spread through the country that General Gage had shut up the town of Boston, and the people must perish with hunger; whereupon Jonathan Trumbull, Governor of Connecticut, pretending to credit the report, sent his circular letter to every clergyman in the colony, requiring it to be read on the Sabbathday to their respective congregations, and to urge the selectmen to warn townmeetings to appoint a general contribution for the support of the poor people in Boston, shut up to starve by General Gage and Admiral Graves. The Governors letter was obeyed. Hebron held the first meeting. Deacon John Phelps was chosen Moderator, and explained the business of the meeting, giving leave to all persons to speak their minds on the subject. Capt. Ben. Buell was the first who spoke in favour of passing a vote for a general collection. Col. Alex. Phelps next spoke against having any collection. The Rev. Elijah Lathrop made the third speech, in favour of a general collection. The Rev. Dr. Samuel Peters made the fourth speech, against having any vote or collection, for the reasons following: First: Because Boston is not, and has not been, shut up by order of General Gage, and all people pass out of and into Boston as usual, and the citizens want not our charitable help; of consequence, Governor Trumbulls letter was premature, occasioned, perhaps, by false information from some friend to the destroyers of the teas, or an enemy to America. Secondly: Governor Trumbull, in his letter, has not assigned any proof of the fact that Boston is, or has been, shut up by General Gage. Thirdly: The teas destroyed in the harbour of Boston ought to be paid for by the author of that horrible crime; for which deed the King and Parliament have ordered Admiral Graves to blockade the harbour of Boston, until the teas wickedly destroyed are paid for; when the blockade will cease, or I will give my last shilling to help the poor of Boston. The question was then called for. The Moderator commanded silence, and said: Will not more of this Assembly speak on the subject? The answer was a general cry of No! no! The Moderator then put the question: Will you vote for the general collection for the support of the poor, said to be shut up in Boston to perish with hunger, by the order of General Gage? You that are for the affirmative, hold up your right hands. Only four hands were held up. The Moderator said: You that are for the negative, hold up your right hands. Every hand but the four was held up. The Moderator proclaimed that the negatives, by a vast majority, had determined the question. Therefore, I dissolve this townmeeting. Hertford, the capital of Connecticut colony, held the next townmeeting, and, after due consideration of Governor Trumbulls letter, unanimously negatived to vote for a general collection, and the Moderator dissolved the townmeeting. The doings of Hertford and Hebron were soon spread, and put a stop to all other townmeetings in Connecticut, to the disappointment and mortification of Governor Trumbull, who laid the blame on the influence of Dr. Peters, the episcopal clergyman of these two towns. Hence the Governor spread the report that Dr. Peters was a dangerous enemy to America, by his correspondence with Lord North and the bishops of England, and ought to be driven out of his native country for the safety of it. Governor Trumbull began and effected this by his Windham mobs, and the mobs of the teadestroyers in Boston harbour. This is the true cause of Dr. Peters leaving America, and not because he was an enemy; for he was never an enemy to any man in his life. This statement Governor Trumbull spread by his letters to the ministers in Windham, where he resided, and added that it could be proved by copies of letters in the Doctors house, if sought for suddenly. This letter was read at the meeting on Sunday, the 14th of August, 1774, which caused a large number of the hearers to unite in the afternoon and ride to Hebron, and, after midnight, to surround the house of Dr. Peters, awaking him and his family in great surprise. Dr. Peters opened the window, and desired to be informed what was the occasion of such a multitude assembling? The answer was, To search your house! Open your doors! Dr. Peters said: I know you not, but will open my doors very soon. Having put on his clothes, he opened his doors and gate, when ten men came into his house. Dr. Peters begged them to be seated, and they sat down. They then said: We have waited upon you, sir, to search your house from top to bottom, to find your correspondence with the English bishops, Lord North, and other people in Great Britain. Dr. Peters replied: Your demand is new and extraordinary; but here are my keys and library, and you can search my house, but I hope you will not destroy my papers. They searched, and read all his correspondence with the bishops and people in England and Europe, and on Monday, before noon, reported to the multitude that they had seen and read the correspondence held by Dr. Peters with the people of England, and found nothing against the liberty and rights of America; and, as we have been misinformed, let us return home; and off they went. This did not satisfy Governor Trumbull. He therefore sent another mob from Windham, armed with guns, swords, and staves, to visit Dr. Peters, and require his signature to eighteen articles which he (the Governor) had written, and his son David, one of the commanders of the mob, presented to Dr. Peters, who read and returned it, saying: Sir, I cannot sign it without violating my conscience, the laws of my God, and my oath to my King. David Trumbull replied: My father told me you might sign it with safety, and it would save you and your house. Dr. Peters replied he would not sign it to save his life, and all the world, from destruction. David Trumbull said: Then you must take the consequences. His mob then fired balls into the house, and with stones, bricks, and clubs broke the doors, windows, and furniture, wounding his mother, the nurse of his infant son, and his two brothers, and seizing him, tore off his hat, wig, gown, and cassock, stripping off his shirt, made him naked, (except his breeches, stockings, and shoes,) struck him with their staves and spat in his face, and then placed him upon a horse and carried him more than a mile to their libertypole, where they threatened to tar and feather him, and hang him up by the hands, unless he would sign the eighteen articles. Dr. Peters said: I am in your power; you can soon finish my mortal existence, but you cannot destroy my immortal soul; and, to save it, I refuse to sign any one of those articles. The mob now cried: Send for the Rev. Dr. Pomeroy to pray for this stubborn old tory, before we send him to his own place. A sergeant and twelve men were ordered to call on Dr. Pomeroy and desire him to attend and pray for this wicked old tory Peters. Dr. Pomeroy answered: I will not attend, nor give any countenance in murdering the best man in Hebron. The sergeant reported Dr. Pomeroys answer. Then an order was given to the mob to go and bring Dr. Pomeroy to the libertypole, to be dealt with according to his demerits. The mob went, but could not find Dr. Pomeroy. By this time the mob had drunk sufficiently, and the two commanders (David Trumbull and Major Wright) stood near Dr. Peters. The Hebron people had now collected, and were prepared to take Dr. Peters out of the hands of the mob. Three bold troopers rode up to the commander, and said: We have come to kill you, or deliver Dr. Peters. Resign him, or die!placing their pistols at the commanders breasts. They said: Take him away, and be silent. They then instantly led him away. Major Wright mounted his horse, and cried to his mob, Silence! We have done enough to this old tory priest for one day, and in four days we will return and subdue his obstinate temper and finish this days work. Make ready and follow me to Lebanon. The mob obeyed, and on their way they saw the wife of John Manee, Esq. sister to Dr. Peters, at whom they discharged three musketballs, which missed her. The mob huzzaed, and cried out, We are damd sorry! The troopers carried Dr. Peters into the house of David Barber, Esq. where they put on his clothes, and conducted him home to his halfruined house. The next day Dr. Peters went in his carriage and called on Governor Trumbull, and demanded his protection against the Windham mobs. The Governor replied: I was once Governor of the people, but they have taken all power out of my hands into their own; and you must apply to them for protection, and it is in your power to gain it. Dr. Peters asked his Honour to tell him by what means. The Governor said: By signing the paper they presented to you yesterday, which you refused to sign, and so brought on you their just resentment. Dr. Peters replied: Sir, do you think it my duty to sign the eighteen articles your son David, at the head of a mob, demanded me to sign? The Governor answered: Yes, by all means. Dr. Peters: Do you wish to have me justify the outrageous action of casting into the sea the teas, the property of English merchants? The Governor replied: Yes; and all friends of America will do it. Dr. Peters: Did your Honour mean to have me guilty of perjury and high treason, by signing those eighteen articles, which you wrote and gave to your son David for me to sign? The Governor replied: Why do you say I wrote those eighteen articles? Dr. Peters answered: Because I read them, and well know your handwriting; and your son David, Major Wright, and Mr. Croker, told me so, and that you had sent them to demand my signature to the paper. I told them I dare not and could not sign them without committing perjury and high treason, and violating my own conscience and Gods laws. The Governor replied: There is no treason in saying that George the Third, King of England, is a Roman Catholic, a tyrant, and an idiot, and has forfeited the crown; that no true friend of America ought to obey him, or any of his laws. Dr. Peters here arose and took leave of the Governor, with the Hon. William Hillhouse and Capt. David Tarbox, who had been present during the interview, and, when out of the house, declared they were astonished at the words and conduct of the Governor. Dr. Peters then rode to the Judges of the Supreme Court sitting at Hertford, Col. Eliphalet Dyer being one of the Judges, and desired the Court to protect him from the mob at Windham, who had illused him, and threatened to take his life in four days if he did not sign his name to a paper containing eighteen treasonable articles. The Court replied: We are ready to do our duty, when the Kings Attorney shall exhibit an indictment against the rioters. The Attorney arose, and told the Court that it was the duty of the Grand Jury to exhibit the indictment, and not his. Thus ended the protection of the Supreme Court of Connecticut. From thence Dr. Peters drove in his carriage to Newhaven, forty miles west from Hertford, and so shunned a third visit of the Windham mob. Here the Doctor applied to the Hon. James Hillhouse for protection, who said: My house is your protection; yet I want protection myself against the mobs of Colonel Wooster and Dr. Benedict Arnold, who are mobbing the Sandemanians for having spoken against the outrageous conduct of the destroyers of the teas in Boston harbour. But as you decline my offer, I advise you to put up at the house of the Rev. Dr. Hubbard, and, if any disturb you, warn them to keep out of the yard and house upon pain of death; and if they break the gate, shoot them, and kill as many as enter the yard. I will raise men, and come to your assistance. The Rev. Dr. Hubbard gave up his house to Dr. Peters, and, on hearing that Arnold and Wooster had said they would visit Peters and Hubbard as soon as they had finished with the Sandemanians, Dr. Hubbard removed his wife and children to a neighbours house, and Dr. Peters told him he would pay for all the damage that might be done to his house. Dr. Peters fastened the gate, and obtained twenty muskets, powder, and balls, and, loading the muskets, with his servants and a friend waited for the mobs coming. At ten oclock in the evening Dr. Arnold and his mob came to the gate, and found it shut and barred. He called out to open the gate, and Dr. Peters answered: The gate shall not be opened this night but on pain of death!holding a musket in his hand. The mob cried: Dr. Arnold, break down the gate, and we will follow you, and punish that tory Peters! Arnold replied: Bring an axe, and split down the gate! Dr. Peters said: Arnold, so sure as you split the gate, I will blow your brains out, and all that enter this yard tonight! Arnold retired from the gate, and told one of his fellows to go forward and split the gate. The mob then cried out: Dr. Arnold is a coward! Arnold replied: I am no coward; but I know Dr. Peters disposition and temper, and he will fulfill every promise he makes; and I have no wish for death at present. The mob then cried: Let us depart from this tory house! In half an hour after appeared another mob, under the command of Col. David Wooster, and ordered the gate to be opened. Dr. Peters told Wooster not to open that gate unless he was ready to die, and whoever came this night into the yard, or house, he would shoot, at the same time showing his musket. Wooster then said to his mob: Let us go on, and leave this episcopal tory, who has madness enough to kill any man, and we will see him tomorrow. The mobs raised a libertypole, and kept watch all night over Dr. Peters; but some friends took his horses over the water to Branford, where Dr. Peters and his servant went the next day in disguise, and from there to Saybrook, and thence to Hebron, where they arrived at midnight on Saturday, and found ten men watching his return; who soon informed the Windham mobs, who prepared on Sunday to pay a visit to Dr. Peters on Sunday night. The Doctor preached in the church to a numerous congregation in the morning. At 11 oclock a friend arrived from Windham and informed the Doctor that a large mob would be at his house by midnight, and advised him to abscond, and not attend church in the afternoon. Dr. Peters desired him to be silent, and attended church in the afternoon, when the assembly was much increased, and the Doctor preached an affectionate sermon from these words: O that my head was water, and my eyes fountains of tears. I would weep day and night for the transgressions of my people. The discourse drew tears from every eye, and the congregation was dismissed, after a most excellent prayer. Many people attended the Doctor to his house, and quietness remained till darkness came on, when several persons were observed around the house as spies. The Doctor then ordered a servant to take a valuable horse and ride to the west two miles, and then turn and ride to the east until he reached Carters tree, and there abide until the Doctor came to him. Dr. Peters then told his mother, to prevent a civil war between the Windham mob coming and the people of Hebron, he must leave her, and go to Boston for protection. He then walked out into his garden in the dark, and thence, unsuspected, across the fields to his servant and horse. Mounting, he told his servant to go home, and tell no person where he saw him last. He then rode off for Boston, 100 miles, and reached there at 5 P. M. the next day, and had an interview with General Gage and Admiral Graves, who gave him ample protection. The Windham mob went to the east border of Hebron, and three spies met them, and told them Dr. Peters had gone off to the westlikely to NewYork. The mob therefore returned home. Dr. Peters remained in Boston some weeks, and hearing that the ship Fox was soon to sail for England, he went off in the night and walked ten miles, when the stagecoach overtook him and carried him to Portsmouth. Sir John Wentworth, Governor of Newhampshire, and the Hon. Col. Atkinson, called upon him and invited him to dine, and begged him to preach on Sunday, as their church was vacant by the death of Dr. Browne. Dr. Peters replied: I would readily comply with your request, but for fear of letting the teadestroyers of Boston know where I am; and you know their malice against me by the newspapers. Sir John replied: They have no influence in Portsmouth, and we can and will protect you against those public enemies. Dr. Peters consented, and preached in their church on the following Sunday. All was quiet till Wednesday, at noon, when a man rode up to the door and called the hostler to take his horse and feed him. He then came in and called for dinner. He saw Dr. Peters, but did not know him, and asked him if he belonged to the house. The Doctor said Yes. He then gave him a Boston newspaper, in which was an advertisement, signed John Hancock, promising 200l. to any person taking up the Rev. Samuel Peters and delivering him to a Committee of Safety, he having retreated from Boston in the night, and will do mischief wherever he goes, being a most bitter enemy to the rights and liberty of America. The man asked the Doctor: Have you seen that wicked old priest? The Doctor replied: The landlord was at church, and a stranger preached last Sunday; perhaps he can tell his name. I will go and call him. The Doctor went and told the landlord what the stranger was in pursuit of, and wished to see him. The landlord told his servant to run and tell the ferryman to say to any one inquiring after a clergyman, that he had carried over a man in black clothes last Monday, who looked like a clergyman, and who said he was going to Casco Bay, and from thence to London in a mastship. The servant soon did his errand, and the landlord went with the Doctor to the stranger at dinner, who wished to know if he could inform him whether Priest Peters had been in Portsmouth. The landlord replied: Yes; he preached in our church last Sunday, and it was said he was going to Casco Bay, to take passage to London in a mastship. The stranger said: I am in pursuit of him, and four other men coming from Boston will be here soon, and we will have him in custody. I will follow him to Casco Bay, or hell, to take him. Tell my friends so when they arrive. He then mounted his horse and rode to the ferry. Asking the ferryman if he had carried over Priest Peters, he answered: I cannot tell. I carried over a man in black clothes last Monday, who was going to Casco Bay. The stranger said: Mr. Ferryman, shoot me over quick, and I will give you five shillings. The ferryman soon got his five shillings, and the stranger rode off with speed seventy miles, and returned without his prize. His four companions arrived in the evening, and caused the bells to be rung and the mobs to assemble, who searched the Governors house and the town to find Dr. Peters, and gain Hancocks reward of 200l., but found not the Doctor, who was well secured in a cave on the seashore, where he remained fourteen days. The Casco Bay news enraged the mob, and they again searched the Governors house, the town, and Captain Normans ship, the Fox, placing a guard on board to prevent him taking passengers or sailing for London. They searched the fort three times for the Doctor, but found him not, and placed sentinels in every part of the town, by day and night, to discover him. The news of the situation of Dr. Peters reached Boston. General Gage and Admiral Graves sent an armed ship of sixteen guns to take him from the cave and carry him to Boston, or any other place he might select. The ship arrived in the night, and took the Doctor on board. The captain asked him if he should carry him to Boston, or Halifax? The Doctor said he preferred London, in the ship Fox, Commander Norman, lying in the river Piscataqua, but that the mob would not permit him, or the ship, to sail. The captain replied: I will see to that! and sailed into the river, hailed the ship Fox, and asked if she was ready to sail. The answer was, Yes. The captain then said: Let down a chair. It was done, and he and his men went on board the ship Fox, and called for the master. He appeared, and the captain asked: What men are those on your decks? The master replied: The committee of safety sent on board by the mob of the town of Portsmouth. The captain said: I commit to your care this worthy and venerable clergyman, Dr. Samuel Peters; conduct him to your cabin, and carry him safe to England; and then, turning to the Committee of Safety, he ordered them to quit the ship in five minutes, or he would throw them overboard into the river. Your company is not wanted here. I will guard the ship. The committee of safety instantly fled into their boats, and went on shore. The captain ordered the master to hoist his anchors and sails and go to sea. The master obeyed the order, and, October 27, 1774, sailed down the river, the captain following with his ship. The mob on shore, behind some rocks, fired three cannon at the warship, who returned their shots, which silenced the mob, and they ran away. The captain guarded the ship Fox out to sea, clear of the land, and then took leave of her and returned to Boston. Captain Norman arrived in Portsmouth, December 21, 1774, and carefully executed his ordersput Dr. Peters on shore, who next day reached London, where he was graciously received by the LordArchbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Cornwallis, and the LordBishop of London, Dr. Terrick, and the Ministry. He had also the honour of kissing the hand of his Majesty, King George the Third. General Gage and Admiral Graves, two years after, sent, in the Somerset manofwar, the only daughter of Dr. Peters to England, who was at boardingschool at Boston, (she having seen the battle of Bunkers Hill,) to save her from future evils, and comfort her father in his retreat from the tyranny of the mobs in his native country. Thus suffered the venerable and exemplary Dr. Samuel Peters, only for obeying his conscience, his God, his king, and the laws of his native country, by censuring the rioters and destroyers of the teas, the property of the EastIndia Company. He was highly respected, in England as well as in America, by all pious, benevolent, scientific, and moral christians of all denominations; and he never knew he had an enemy, (until Gov. Jonathan Trumbull, of Connecticut, vouchsafed to support the atrocities of the mobs,) as appears by his benevolent conduct in England to his enemies of NewEngland, who had illtreated him two years before the rebellion was commenced. After the war began many of the Windham mob, who spat in the Doctors face and grossly insulted him otherwise, were brought prisoners into England, and were in great distress. They then applied to the Doctor for help, (knowing his character in America,) and they never applied in vain; he always helped them, and in many instances obtained their release. They returned home and reported that Dr. Peters was like Joseph in Egypt, and had delivered them out of all their troubles. Dr. Peters, they said, fed us when we were hungry, clothed us when naked, visited us in prison, and delivered us out of our distress. He never reproached us for what we had done to him and his family. When we confessed to having abused him, he replied, God hath sent me here before you to save your lives; it was not you that sent me here. Haste ye; go home, and sin no more. Notwithstanding such reports were spread through NewEngland by the redeemed captives, the destroyers of the teas, and their mobs, continued their malicious and false sayings in the newspapers against the Doctor, of whom no man in New or OldEngland ever knew one crime of his from his birth; but, on the contrary, was known for his actions of charity, goodwill, and kindness, to all of the human family. In June, 1806, the Doctor paid a visit to Hebron, his native town, and was received with acclamations of great joy by the inhabitants, the children of his contemporaries, who were all dead in thirtyone years during his absence (except ten persons). He remained in Hebron six weeks, and then paid a visit to Hertford, the capital of Connecticut State, once his faithful parish, and now the seat of bishops. He was kindly and joyfully received by the inhabitants, with whom he spent some time with great pleasure, and from thence returned to NewYork, which he made his home. The Rev. Messrs. Mansfield and Veits were cast into gaol, and afterwards tried for high treason against America. Their real offence was charitably giving victuals and blankets to loyalists flying from the rage of drunken mobs. They were fined and imprisoned, to the ruin of themselves and families. The Rev. Messrs. Graves, Scovil, Debble, Nichols, Leaming, Beach, and divers others, were cruelly dragged through mire and dirt. In short, all the clergy of the Church were infamously insulted, abused, and obliged to seek refuge in the mountains, till the popular frenzy was somewhat abated. In July, 1776, the Congress, having declared the independence of America, ordered the Commonwealth to be prayed for, instead of the King and royal family. All the loyal episcopal churches north of the Delaware were shut up, except those under the protection of the British army, and one in Newtown, in Connecticut, of which last the Rev. Mr. John Beach was the rector, whose gray hairs, adorned with loyal and christian virtues, overcame even the madness of the Sober Dissenters. This faithful disciple disregarded the congressional mandate, and, praying for the King as usual, they pulled him out of his desk, put a rope about his neck, and drew him across the Osootonoc River at the tail of a boat, to cool his loyal zeal, as they called it; after which the old confessor was permitted to depart, though not without prohibition to pray longer for the King. But his loyal zeal was insuperable. He went to church and prayed again for the King, upon which the Sober Dissenters again seized him, and resolved upon cutting out his tongue; when the heroic veteran said: If my blood must be shed, let it not be done in the house of God. The pious mob then dragged him out of the church, laid his neck upon a block, and swore they would cut off his head, and insolently cried out: Now, you old devil, say your last prayer! He prayed thus: God bless King George, and forgive all his and my enemies. At this unexpected and exalted display of christian patience and charity the mob so far relented as to discharge him, and never molest him afterwards for adhering to the liturgy of the Church of England and his ordinationoath; but they relaxed not their severities towards the other clergymen, because, they said, younger consciences are more flexible. I cannot conclude this work without remarking what a contrast to the episcopal clergy of Connecticut, and especially the illustrious examples of the venerable Beach and Peters, was offered to many of those that were in the provinces south of the Delaware! In Connecticut, where they suffered everything but death for tenaciously adhering to their ordinationoaths, there some of them, with more enlarged consciences, were not ashamed to commit perjury in prayer and rebellion in preaching. Though, be it remembered, these expressions were decent when compared with those of the fanatics in NewEngland. The following prayer, used by them before Congress after the declaration of independence, is likely to gratify the curiosity of my readers. It brought the clergymen into disgrace merely by its moderation: O Lord, our heavenly Father, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who dost from Thy throne behold all the dwellers of the earth, and reignest with power supreme and uncontrolled over all kingdoms, empires, and governments: look down in mercy, we beseech Thee, upon these our American States, who have fled to Thee from the rod of the oppressor, and thrown themselves upon Thy gracious protection, desiring henceforth to be dependent only on Thee. To Thee have they appealed for the righteousness of their cause; to Thee do they look up for that countenance and support which Thou alone canst give. Take them, therefore, heavenly Father, under Thy nurturing care; give them wisdom in council and valour in the field. Defeat the malicious designs of our cruel adversaries; convince them of the unrighteousness of their cause, and, if they still persist in their sanguinary purposes, O let the voice of Thy unerring justice, sounding in their hearts, constrain them to drop the weapons of war from their enervated hands in the day of battle. Be Thou present, O God of wisdom, and direct the councils of this honourable Assembly. Enable them to settle things upon the best and surest foundation; that the scenes of blood may soon be closed; that order, harmony, and peace may effectually be restored, and truth and justice, religion and piety, prevail and flourish amongst Thy people. Preserve the health of their bodies and the vigor of their minds; shower down upon them, and the millions they represent, such temporal blessings as Thou seest expedient for them in this world, and crown them with everlasting glory in the world to come. All this we ask in the name, and through the merits, of Jesus Christ Thy Son, our Saviour. Amen. 42 Which is taken from a manuscript written by the Doctor himself and using his own language. This manuscript came into my hands only a few weeks ago, with many other documents relating to the Revolutionary War.ED. NOTE. INDEX. A Allen, Ethan, origin of his fame, 106; joins in the secret expedition against Ticonderoga, 257. Amusements, 221. Argal, Sir Samuel, compels the Dutch at Manhattan to submit, 12. Arnold, Dr. Benedict, attacks Dr. Peters, 268. Arran, Earl of, claims part of Connecticut, 27. Ashford, 133. Assembly, General, chosen by the people, 82; times of meeting, 83; their laws not to be repealed but by their own authority, 85; resolved to settle their lands on Susquehanna River, 96; hold a special meeting to consider the Stampact, 232; vote that the Governor do not take the oath required by it, 235; and treat the populace on its repeal, 239; conduct of, in regard to Colonel Street Hall and the revolters, 240243. B Bays, two principal, 119. Beach, the Rev. Mr., joins the Church of England, 167; ignominiously and most cruelly treated, his heroism, 274. Bear, a she, and her cubs, killed by General Putnam, 133, 134. Beauford, 161. Bellamy, the Rev. Dr., some account of, 146. Birds, 185, 186. Bishop of Londons authority derided by an American judge, 144. Bishops, their neglectful conduct in regard to America, 172; animadversions upon, 173; notices concerning, 61, 171, 172. Blaxton, the Rev. Mr., particulars relating to, 51, Note. Blue Laws, specimens of, 58. Bolton, 139. Boston, peninsula of, obtained and occupied by the Rev. Mr. Blaxton, 51, Note; town of, founded, 16; its port shut up, 256; attack meditated against it, 258; Neck fortified by General Gage, 258. Bostwick, the Rev. Mr., attacked by the mob, 254. Boundaries, disputes concerning, 99; of Connecticut, as at present allowed, 114. Bribery disallowed, 222. Briton, Mr., humourous story concerning him and a deacons daughter, 214. Brown, the Rev. Mr., declares for the Church of England, 166. Brownists set sail for America, and found Plymouth, 16. Buckley, the Rev. John, some account of, 141. Buckley, the Rev. Peter, character of, 142. Bullfly, description of, 187. Bundling, singular custom of, justified, 224229. Byles, Dr. Mather, disingenuous treatment, 218. C Canaan, 147. Cansey American Indians enjoy liberty in perfection, 110. Canterbury, 135. Caterpillars ravage the border of Connecticut River, 131. Chandler, the Rev. Thomas Bradbury, where born, 133. Charter, petitioned for privately, 66; obtained, 68; claim founded upon, and prevarications concerning it, 36; powers conferred by, 83, 84; strengthens notions of independence, 86; formally surrendered by the colony to Sir Edmund Andros, 89; regained by a mob, hid in a tree, and reassumed, 90; violated by George II., 102. Chatham, 139. Church of England, the first erected in Connecticut, 163; professors of the, number of, in 1770, 168, 169; reason of their great increase, 166; their zeal, 170; measures adverse to, 171. Clergy, Episcopal, in Connecticut, morality of, 171; one punished for not observing the Sabbath agreeably to the notions of Sober Dissenters, 213; acquire immortal honour by adhering to their ordinationoaths, 260; immoral, antiepiscopal, and rebellious conduct of some of them in the southern provinces, 172174. Colchester, 141. Colden, LieutenantGovernor, of NewYork, grants lands in Verdmont, 105. Coldness of the winter in Connecticut accounted for, 176. Comic Liturgy, acted in Connecticut on occasion of the Stampact, 231. Commerce of Connecticut, 191. Company for Propagating the Gospel in NewEngland, charter obtained for the, and abuse of it, 52, Note. Connecticote, his kingdom, 135; his conduct toward the settlers, 53; his death, 57. Connecticut, its latitude and longitude, 175; whence named, 15; three parties of English adventurers arrive in, 16; right to the soil of, considered, 3135; civil and religious establishments and proceedings of the first English settlers, 37; forms a confederacy with NewPlymouth and MassachusetsBay, 62; obtains a charter of incorporation, 68; divided into counties, townships, c., 83; sketch of its religiouspolitical free system since the Charter, 97100; half the territory of, granted to the Duke of York, 75; its consequent loss of territory, 77, 101; dimensions of, as at present allowed, 114; description of, at large, 115; treatment English travelers met with then from landlords, 111; proceedings of, in regard to the Stampact, 229245; to the Teaact, 251; to that for shutting the port of Boston, 253; commits the first overt act of high treason, 254. Connecticut River, description of, 115; astonishing narrows in it, 115, 116. Contingencies, extraordinary allowance for, 198; of what sort some are, 220. Convention, grand continental, of dissenting ministers at Newhaven, notices concerning, 160. Cooper, the Rev. Miles, LL.D., narrowly escapes the fury of the mob in NewYork, 258. Cornwall, 147. Cotton, the Rev. Mr., notices relating to, 50; Note, 138. Council of Plymouth, their grant, 12. Courts, instituted in Connecticut, 83, 84; cruelty of the ecclesiastical, in NewEngland, 128. Coventry, 132. Cuba, description of an animal so called, and extraordinary qualities of male and female, 183. Cursette, Mrs., surprising discovery of her will, 153. Customs of the people, 211; borrowed of the Indians, 223. Cutler, the Rev. Dr., joins the Church of England, 166. D Dagget, the Rev. Mr. Naphthali, character of, 160. Danbury, 168; burnt, 258. Davenport, the Rev. John, arrives at Newhaven, 20; his churchsystem, 42, 43. Dead, buried with their feet to the west, 123. Debble, the Rev. Mr., cruelly treated, 274. Derby, 162. Dixwell, buried at Newhaven, 63, Note. Douglas, Dr., some account of, 101. Durham, 162. Dutch, get footing on Manhattan Island, but are compelled to submit by Argal, 12; revolt, 15. Dyer, Mr., takes active part in Stampact, 236. E East Haddam, 139. East Windsor. See Windsor, 139. Eaton, Mr. Theophilus, arrives at Newhaven, 20; chosen Governor, 42; his true character, 150. Election, management of, in Connecticut, 222. Elliot, the Rev. Mr., some mention of, 129. Endfield, 139. Expenditure of Connecticut, 196. Exports of Connecticut, 191. F Fairfield, 163; burnt, 260. Farmington, 142. Fenwick, George, Esq., first arrival at Saybrook, 17; his and associates right to settle in Connecticut discussed and disproved, 2428; disposes of his property in America and returns to England, 49. Fish of Connecticut, 189. Fitch, Governor, his conduct on occasion of Stampact, 231, 235, 237, 240. Franklin, Dr., notices concerning, 231, 232, 251. Frogs, an amazing multitude, humourous story, 129. G Gage, General, arrives at Boston, 253; fortifies Boston Neck, 256; in danger of being surprised, 257. Gates, Sir Thomas, and associates, account of their patent, 11. Gavelkind, custom of, prevails in Connecticut, 220. General Assembly. See Assembly, 82. General List, account and specimen of, 206. Gibbs, the Rev. Mr., inhuman treatment of, 143. Glastonbury, 149. Glover, Mr., his concealment of Mrs. Cursettes will, 152. Glowbug described, 188. Goshen, 147. Government, some account of, 198; the Clergy, Merchants, and Lawyers, the three grand parties in the State, 201. Governments, bad policy of most, 245. Graves, the Rev. Mr., cruel treatment of, 274. Great Barrington, why obnoxious to the mob, 255. Greensmith, Mrs., the first person executed as a witch in America, 136. Greenwich, 163. Grenville, George, Esq., mobbed, hung and burnt in effigy, 234, Note. Grigson, Mr., extraordinary concealment of his will, 150. Groton, 122. Guilford described, 161. H Haddam, 139. Hall, Colonel Street, chosen commander of the mob of revolters against the General Assembly, his conduct, and extraordinary speech, 240243. Hamilton, Marquis of, his title to part of Connecticut proved, 26. Hancock, Mr., his opposition to the Teaact, and artifice in disposing of his own stock, 251. Hancock, John, Esq., his dishonourable conduct in regard to Mrs. Cursettes will, 152, 153. Harrington, 142. Harrison, Peter, Esq., his spirited and honourable conduct in discovering Mr. Grigsons will, 151. Harrison, MajorGeneral Thomas, hanged at Charing Cross, 141. Hartland, 147. Harvey, Mr. Joel, receives a premium from the Society of Arts in London, 147. Haynes, John, settled at Hertford, 18; chosen Governor, 38, 39. Hebron, description of, 139; refuses to contribute to the relief of the Bostonians, on the shutting up of their port, 262; townmeeting for collecting money, 263. Hertford, first settlement there by the English, 16, 17; by what authority, 30; description of, 136; curiosities in, 137. Hillhouse, William, present at interview with Governor Jonathan Trumbull, 267. Hooker, Rev. Thomas, settles at Hertford, 18; his motive for quitting MassachusetsBay, 29; Churchsystem, 39. Howling wilderness, Connecticut improperly so called, 107. Huet, the Rev. Mr., some mention of, 139. Humblebee, description of, 188. Humility, a bird so called, described, 186. I Imports, 192. Independence, idea of, strengthened by Charter, 86; symptoms of, manifested by the colonies, 229; not the wish of the common people, 260; formally declared by Congress, 274. Indians, their mode of counting, 35, Note; number of them killed in Hispaniola, Porto Rico, and South America, and in Connecticut and MassachusetsBay, 107; in the whole of North America and West Indies, 108; their aversion to the Protestant religion, 206. Ingersoll, David, barbarously treated, 254. Ingersoll, Jared, Esq., mobbed, and forced to resign his post of Stampmaster, 233; hung and burnt in effigy, 233, Note. Inhabitants in Connecticut, 190; their hospitality to strangers, 211; of the men, 223; of the women, 224. Insects, 187. J Johnson, Dr. Samuel, character of, 161; declares for the Church of England, 167; treacherous embassy of his son, 258. Joshua, a pretended sachem, 32. K Kent, 147. Killingsley, 133. Killingsworth, 129. Kings statue, at NewYork, destroyed, 259. L Latitude and longitude of Connecticut, 175. Laws, Blue, specimen of, 5860; other laws, 85. Lawsuits, amazing number of, 200; remarkable nature of some of them, 211. Leaming, the Rev. Mr., cruelly treated, 274. Lebanon, 132. Litchfield described, 144. Little Isaac, a nickname given to Americans, 189. Lyme, 124. M Manners of the people, 211. Mansfield, the Rev. Mr., tried for high treason, 274. Mansfield, town, 132. Manufactures of Connecticut, 190. Mason, his claim to land in Connecticut, 33. MassachusetsBay, settled by Puritans, 16; loses part of its territory, 103. Merret, his singular treatment, charged with incest, 127. Middletown described, 138. Milford, 161. Mill, curious invention of Joel Harvey, 147. Minister, Sober Dissenting, manner of settling and dismissing, 217. Moodus, a pretended sachem, 32. More, Sir Henry, begins to regrant Verdmont, 105. Motte treacherously sent against Ticonderoga and Crown Point, 257. Moyley, the Rev. Mr., fined for marrying a couple of his own parishioners, 144. N Neal, the Rev. Mr., his representation about Sunksquaw, Uncas, Joshua, Moodus, c., exploded, 3234, 56; refutation of his doctrine concerning synods, 125; a sacramental test, 202; the loyalty of NewEnglanders, 204; his enmity against the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel exposed, 205; notice concerning, 33, 107. Negro tried for castration, 85; negro slaves, 108. Nell, Mr., 164. NewEngland, the Massachusets county, first so called by Charles, Prince of Wales, 11; divisions of, 13; cause of its first settlement discussed, 107. NewFairfield, 147. Newhampshire deprived of territory, 108. Newhaven, first settled by the English, 20; totally without authority, 31; early proceedings, 56; Blue Laws, 58; state of, after the death of Cromwell, 62; accedes to the Charter, 69; particular description of, 147; a ship fitted out to secure a patent, and wonderful consequences, 149. NewHertford, 147. New Lights, notices concerning, 99, 202204. NewLondon, described, 120; port of, well calculated for the grand emporium of Connecticut, 194. NewMilford, 146. Newtown, 168. NewYork, gains land from Connecticut, 77, 101; from MassachusetsBay and Newhampshire, 103, 104; constitution of, subverted by the Sober Dissenters, 258. Nichols, Colonel, deprives Connecticut of Long Island, 77. Nichols, the Rev. Mr., cruelly treated, 274. Norwalk, 163; burnt, 260. Norwich, description of, 123. O Old Lights, notices concerning, 99, 202205. Oneko, King of Mohegan, 32. Onions, vast quantity raised in Weathersfield, 188; beds of, weeded by the females, 138. Osootonoc River, description of, 119. P Parsons, Hugh, found guilty of witchcraft, 137. Penderson, Rev. Mr., joins the Church of England, 167. Peters, the Rev. Hugh, account of himself and family, 50. Peters, the Rev. Samuel, account of, 140; interview with Governor Trumbull, 266; escape from Portsmouth and Boston, 270; reward offered by John Hancock for his capture, 270. Peters, Rev. Thomas, his arrival at Saybrook, 17; Churchsystem, 37; school, 49; character, 50; some particulars of his life, 50, Note. Peters, William, particulars relating to, 5052, Note. Phelps, treacherously sent upon an expedition against Ticonderoga and Croton Point, 257. Pitt, Mr., a Churchman, whipped for not attending meeting, 208. Plainfield, 135. Plymouth, New, founded, 16. Pomeroy, Rev. Dr., character, 140; sent for by the Windham mob, 265. Pomfret, 133. Population, 190. Pork, unfair dealing in, 193. Potter, Deacon, unjustly convicted of bestiality, 154. Poultry of Connecticut, 185. Powwow, ancient Indian rite, celebration of, at Stratford described, 164. Prayer of some of the Episcopal clergy in the southern provinces before Congress, 275. Presbyterians, disliked and illtreated by Sober Dissenters, 135, 199. Preston, 123. Produce of Connecticut, 178. Pumpkin, hair cut by the shell, 153, 154. Pumpkinheads, a name given to NewEnglanders, 153. Putnam, General, curious anecdotes of, 133; kills a bear and cubs, 134; his narrow escape from Indians, 134; terrible to them, 135; alarms the country in a letter concerning Admiral Graves and General Gage, 262. Q Quackery triumphant, 145. Quaker, shrewd retort of one upon his judges, 99. Quinnipiog, kingdom, 147; refuses to grant land to the settlers, and is murdered, 56. R Rattlesnake, some account of, 188; use of skin, 223. Reading, 168. Rebellion, true sources of, in America, 247. Religion, the established, 84, 85. Reptiles, 188. Revenue, 196; objections against raising, in America, 244. RhodeIsland, infamous law of the General Assembly, 169. Ridgfield, 168; burnt, 259. Rivers, the three principal, described, 114118. Rivington, Mr., plundered, 258. S Sabbath, rigidly observed, 213; how broken by an Episcopal clergyman, 213. Salary of the Governor, LieutenantGovernor, Treasurer, c., 198. Salisbury, 147. Sandeman, Rev. Mr., doctrine of, 168. Sassacus, Sachem of the Pequods, his kingdom and character, 119, 120. Saybrook, founded, 16; described, 124; its civil and religious establishments, 37; early proceedings, 46; enters the confederacy, 62; refuses to send agents to England to oppose the king, 49; forms an alliance with Hertford, 49; and joins in a secret application for a Charter, 64. Saybrook platforms, some account of the, 155. Scovil, the Rev. Mr., cruel treatment of, 274. Sealbury, Rev. Dr., taken prisoner, 258. Sects, religious, in Connecticut, some account of the, 198. Sharon, famous for a mill, 147. Ship, wonderful story of one fitted out in Newhaven, 149. Sick, horrid mode of visiting, 219. Skunk, description and wonderful property of the, 184. Smith, Rev. Mr., notices of, 53, 138. Smith, William, notices concerning, 100102, 105, 113, 175. Sober Dissenters, religion of, in Connecticut, 85; their uncandid conduct toward Episcopalians, Anabaptists, Quakers, c., in regard to parish rates, 207; and their severe treatment of Mr. Gibbs for refusing to pay them, 148; their humanity to sick strangers and persons shipwrecked, 219; partial support, 219. Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, notices concerning, 52, Note, 105, 167, 170175, 205. Soil, 178. Sommers, 139. Stafford, the NewEngland Bath, 142. StampAct, proceedings and opinions relating to, in Connecticut, 229. Stirling, Earl of, his claim in Connecticut, 25. Stonington, 122. Stratford, description of, 163. Stratford River, 118. Strong, Rev. Nehemiah, 160. Suffield, 139. Sunksquaw, a pretended sachem, 32. Superstition, striking instance, 200. Symsbury mines, account of, 142. T Tarbox, Capt. David, remark on leaving Governor Trumbulls house, 267. Tea, act of sending, to America opposed, 251. Temple, Mr., seditious letters imputed to, 251. Test, sacramental, unnecessary in NewEngland, 202. Thames River described, 114. Ticonderoga, secret expedition against, 258. Tolland, 139. Torrington, 147. Travellers, English, how treated by landlords, 111. Treefrog, agility of, 189. Trumbull, Governor, furnishes a dress for the effigy of Mr. Grenville, 233, Note; writes an insidious letter to General Gage, 256; adds to an alarming one of General Putnams, 262; and spirits up the mob against the loyalists, 264; writes the eighteen articles for Dr. Peters to sign, 264; his reply to Dr. Peters when asking protection from the Windham mob, 266. Trumbull, David, in command of the Windham mob, 264; handing Dr. Peters the document containing high treason, to sign, 264; his remark upon Dr. Peters refusing to sign it, 265. Tryon, Governor, his character, 113; escapes the mob at NewYork, 258; leaves Danbury, 258; Ridgfield, 259; releases the prisoners at Newhaven, 260; leaves Fairfield and Norwalk, 260. U Uncas, a pretended sachem, 32. Union, 132. V Verdmont, account of, 106. Viets, Rev. Mr., tried for high treason, 274. Visey, Rev. Mr., suppresses the powwow at Stratford, 164. Voluntown, 135. W Wallingford, description of, 162. Warwick, Earl of, his title to the soil of any part of Connecticut disproved, 2326. Waterbury, 162. Weathersfield, description of, 138; singular industry of the females there, 138. Wentworth, Benning, Esq., grants townships in Verdmont, 104. Whapperknocker, description of, 182. Wheelock, Dr. Eleazer, notices concerning, 53, Note, 132. Whippoorwill, description of, 186. Whitefield, Rev. George, anecdote of, 121; and character, 161; attempts to work a miracle at Saybrook, 128; his character of the people of Norwich, 124; of those of Hebron, 140; of Guilford, 161; of Connecticut in general, 170, 212. Whitemore, Rev. Mr., joins Church of England, 166. Will, scandalous concealment of Mr. Grigsons, 151; of Mrs. Cursettes, 152. Willington, 132. Winchester, 147. Windham, 129; inhabitants alarmed by frogs, 130. Windsor described, 139. Wolcott, Oliver, treacherous embassy of, 258. Woodbury, 146. Woodchuck, 183. Woodstock, 133. Wooster, General, attacks Dr. Peters, 268; mortally wounded, 259. Wright, Major, his actions with the Windham mob, 266. Y Yale College, account of, 155161. York, Duke of, obtains a grant including half of Connecticut, 75. THE END. RECENT PUBLICATIONS. THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION, AND OTHER POLITICAL ESSAYS. By WALTER BAGEHOT, author of Physics and Politics. Latest revised edition. 1 vol., 12mo. Cloth. Price, 2.00. With the authors inclination and capacity to regard public questions in their scientific aspects, many readers are already familiar through his suggestive volume entitled Physics and Politics. The English Constitution is a work of the same quality, and treats its subjects very much with reference to the principles of human nature and the natural laws of human society. It is a free disquisition on English political experience; an acute, critical, and dispassionate discussion of English institutions designed to show how they operate, and to point out their defects and advantages. The writer is not so much a partisan or an advocate, as a cool, philosophical inquirer, with large knowledge, clear insight, independent opinions, and great freedom from the bias of what he terms that territorial sectarianism called patriotism. His criticism of the faults of the English system is searching and trenchant, and his appreciation of its benefits and usefulness is cordial, discriminating, and wise. The book, indeed, is full of instructive episodes, and sagacious reflections on the springs of action in human nature, the exercise of power by individuals or political bodies, the adaptation of institutions to the qualities and circumstances of the different classes who live under them, and numerous points of political philosophy, which are applicable everywhere and have an interest for all students of political and social affairs.Extract from preface. THE VARIOUS CONTRIVANCES BY WHICH ORCHIDS ARE FERTILIZED BY INSECTS. By CHARLES DARWIN, M. A. Second edition, revised. With Illustrations. 1 vol., 12mo. Cloth. Price, 1.75. Mr. Darwin has prepared a new edition of his work on the fertilization of orchids by insects, which was published in 1862, and has been for some time out of print. He has, during the interval, received a great deal of information on the subject from various correspondents, and has also continued his own researches; and he has used the materials thus obtained in remodeling the original work. The object which the writer has in view is, as he explains, not only to show how wonderfully complex and perfect are the contrivances by which orchids are fertilized with pollen brought by insects from a distinct plant, but also to support his theory that it is an almost universal law of Nature that the higher organic beings require an occasional cross with another individual; or, which is the same thing, that no hermaphrodite fertilizes itself for a perpetuity of generations.Saturday Review. BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE. By FRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE, author of a Charming Fellow, etc. 1 vol., 8vo. Illustrated. Paper covers. Price, 75 cents. It has all the rapid movement of a play, and is at the same time full of piquant characterstudy. The personages of the story have life and thorough individualitythere is not a puppet among them. It has been said of one of themthe American mediumthat he is simply a caricature; but those who have seen a certain erratic countryman of ours will recognize many of his curious traits.N. Y. Tribune. GARTH. A Novel. By JULIAN HAWTHORNE, author of Bressant, Saxon Studies, etc. 1 vol., 8vo. Paper covers, 1.00; cloth, 1.50. Garth, is Mr. Julian Hawthornes most elaborate and pretentious book. It is on many accounts also his best book, though it contains nothing so good as the character of the hero in Bressant. At least his genius is unmistakable. And we are disposed to venture the suggestion that, if Garth had not been a serial, it would have been more compact and closely written, and so its situations more effective, its characters better sustained.New York World. THE ART OF ELECTROMETALLURGY. Including all Known Processes of ElectroDeposition. By G. GORE, LL. D., F. R. S. 1 vol., 12mo. 391 pages. Illustrated. 2.50. I have endeavored not only to make the book a treatise on the practical art of ElectroMetallurgy, but also to include an outline of the science of electrochemistry, upon which that art is based; and I have also spared no trouble in order to make it as perfect as I could; the most complete portions are those which treat of the common methods of silvering, gilding, moulding; the deposition of copper, nickel, brass, iron, and tin; the special details of the art; and the accounts of such experiments and processes with the less common metals, as scientific investigators and practical inventors may be likely to further examine or practically apply.Extract from Preface. THE ELEMENTS OF MACHINEDESIGN. An Introduction to the Principles which determine the Arrangement and Proportions of the Parts of Machines, and a Collection of Rules for MachineDesign. By W. CAWTHORNE UNWIN. 1 vol., 12mo. Illustrated. 1.50. No labor has been spared in condensing into the smallest compass the information at the authors disposal, and in endeavoring to render the treatment of the subject simple and clear. If the students path has in any degree been rendered easy, it is because a good deal of labor has been expended on the roadway.Extract from Preface. AFTER MANY DAYS. A Novel. By CHRISTIAN REID, author of Morton House, Valerie Aylmer, etc. 1 vol., 8vo. Paper covers, 1.00; cloth 1.50. After Many Days is marked by those characteristics that have made the name of Christian Reid distinguishedflowing style, charm and contrast of character, dramatic situations and effective development of plot. The scene is laid partly in the South and partly in England, while its narrative exhibits notable variety of incident and strength of interest. NEW LANDS WITHIN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE: Narrative of the Discoveries of the Austrian Ship Tegetthoff in 187274. By JULIUS PAYER, one of the Commanders of the Expedition. Containing upward of 100 Illustrations from Drawings by the Author, engraved by J. D. Cooper, a Colored Frontispiece and Route Maps and Preface comparing Results of the English and Austrian Expeditions. One vol., medium 8vo., cloth, extra, 3.50. We advise all who desire to enjoy a genuine and unalloyed pleasure to read his book, which will bear more than one perusal. We are mistaken if it does not take rank with the best of our English arctic narratives, and become a permanent favorite with old and young. The wellexecuted illustrations from the pencil of the author add greatly to the value and attractions of the book.Times. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON  CO., PUBLISHERS. Transcribers Note: Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, like this. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, or partially printed letters, were corrected. Final stops missing at the end of sentences were added. Footnotes were renumbered in sequence and moved to the end of the section in which the footnote anchor occurs. Italic l. was used to indicate British pounds throughout the book. Dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings were left unchanged, e.g. Qunnipiack, befal, pateroons, and Massachusets. In the Rate of Taxation table, the numbers are shown as printed, although the total of 65l. is not the correct sum. generously made available by The Internet Archive) Transcribers Note: Evident printing errors have been changed, but otherwise the original (and antiquated) spelling has been preserved, in both English and other languages. The errata have been corrected. A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN ITALY: WITH ANECDOTES relating to some EMINENT CHARACTERS. BY JOHN MOORE, M. D. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. Strenua nos exercet inertia: navibus atque Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est. HOR. THE SECOND EDITION. LONDON: Printed for W. STRAHAN; and T. CADELL, in the Strand. MDCCLXXXI. ADVERTISEMENT. The following observations on Italy, and on Italian manners, occurred in the course of the same Tour in which those contained in a book lately published, entitled A View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany, were made. All who have read that book will perceive, at first sight, that the present work is a continuation of the former; but to those who have not, it was thought necessary to account for the abrupt manner in which the following Letters begin. Clargesstreet, December 14, 1780. Just Published, A NEW EDITION OF A VIEW of SOCIETY and MANNERS in FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, and GERMANY; with ANECDOTES relating to some EMINENT CHARACTERS. In Two Volumes. Price 10s. in Boards. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LETTER I. p. 1. Journey from Vienna to Venice. LETTER II. p. 20. The arsenal.The Bucentaur.Doges marriage. LETTER III. p. 27. The island of Murano.Glass manufactory.Mr. Montague. LETTER IV. p. 39. Situation of Venice.Lagune.Canals.Bridges. LETTER V. p. 46. Piazza di St. Marco.Patriarchal church.Ducal palace.Broglio. LETTER VI. p. 56. Reflections excited by the various objects around St. Marks square.On painting.A connoisseur. LETTER VII. p. 69. Origin of Venice. LETTER VIII. p. 77. Various changes in the form of government.Tyrannical conduct of a Doge.Savage behaviour of the people.Commerce of Venice. LETTER IX. p. 89. New regulations.Foundation of the aristocracy.Origin of the ceremony of espousing the Sea.New forms of magistracy. LETTER X. p. 104. Henry Dandolo. LETTER XI. p. 114. New courts.New magistrates.Reformation of the Venetian code.The form of electing the Doge. LETTER XII. p. 129. Aristocracy established.Conspiracies.Insurrections.Ecclesiastical Inquisition.The College, or Seigniory. LETTER XIII. p. 144. Conspiracy against the State, by a Doge.Singular instance of weakness and vanity in a noble Venetian.New magistrates to prevent luxury.Courtesans. LETTER XIV. p. 157. Rigour of Venetian laws exemplified in the cases of Antonio Venier, Carlo Zeno, and young Foscari. LETTER XV. p. 171. The Council of Ten, and the State Inquisitors.Reflections on these institutions. LETTER XVI. p. 187. League of Cambray.War with Turks.Antonio Bragadino.Battle of Lapanta.Disputes with the Pope. LETTER XVII. p. 201. Marquis of Bedamars conspiracy.False accusations.The siege of Candia.The impatience of a Turkish Emperor.Conclusion of the review of the Venetian Government. LETTER XVIII. p. 215. Venetian manners.Opera.Affectation.A Duo.Dancers. LETTER XIX. p. 227. No military establishment at Venice.What supplies its place. LETTER XX. p. 232. Reflections on the nature of Venetian Government.Gondoleers.Citizens.The Venetian subjects on the Terra Firma. LETTER XXI. p. 240. Gallantry.Cassinos. LETTER XXII. p. 249. Character of Venetians.Customs and usages.Influence of fashion in matters of taste.Prejudice.The excellence of Italian comic actors. LETTER XXIII. p. 262. Departure from Venice.Padua.St. Anthony, his tomb and miracles. LETTER XXIV. p. 270. Church of St. Justina.The bodies of St. Matthew and St. Luke.The university.Beggars. LETTER XXV. p. 275. The antiquity of Padua.The Brenta.The Po.The Thames. LETTER XXVI. p. 285. Ferrara.The Family of Este.Ariosto, the Emperor, and his brothers, lodge at an inn, which oversets the understanding of the landlord. An inscription. LETTER XXVII. p. 292. Bologna. Its government, commerce, palaces. LETTER XXVIII. p. 301. The academy of arts and sciences.Church of St. Petronius.Dominican convent.Palaces.Raphael.Guido. LETTER XXIX. p. 313. Journey from Bologna to Ancona.The Rubicon.Julius Csar.Pesaro.Fano.Claudius Nero.Asdrubal.Senegalia. LETTER XXX. p. 323. Ancona.The influence of commerce on the characters of mankind.The Mole.The triumphal arch of the Emperor Trajan. LETTER XXXI. p. 333. Loretto.History of the Casa Santa. LETTER XXXII. p. 340. Description of the sacred chapel.The treasury. LETTER XXXIII. p. 351. Pilgrimages to Loretto.Manufactures.Confessionals.Basso relievos.Zeal of pilgrims.Iron grates before the chapels.Reflections. LETTER XXXIV. p. 362. Tolentino.The Apennines.A hermit.Umbria.Spoletto. LETTER XXXV. p. 371. Terni.Narni.Otricoli.Civita Castellana.Campania of Rome. LETTER XXXVI. p. 380. Rome.Conversazionis.Cardinal Bernis.The distress of an Italian lady. LETTER XXXVII. p. 389. Remarks on ancient and modern Rome.The church of St. Peters. LETTER XXXVIII. p. 404. The ceremony of the Possesso. LETTER XXXIX. p. 413. Pantheon.Coliseum.Gladiators. LETTER XL. p. 432. The Campidoglio.Forum Romanum.Jews. LETTER XLI. p. 442. Ruins.Via Sacra.Tarpeian Rock.Campus Martius.Various Forums.Trajans Column. LETTER XLII. p. 452. The beatification of a Saint. LETTER XLIII. p. 459. Character of modern Italians.Observations on human nature in general.An English Officer.Cause of the frequency of the crime of murder. LETTER XLIV. p. 474. Different kinds of punishment.Account of an execution.Souls in purgatory. LETTER XLV. p. 487. The usual course with an antiquarian.An expeditious course, by a young Englishman.The Villa Borghese. LETTER XLVI. p. 506. The morning study of an artist.Conversation with him on that subject.An Italian lady and her Confessor.The Ladys religious scruples and precaution. Illustration A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN ITALY. Illustration LETTER I. Venice. DEAR SIR, Having left Vienna, we proceeded through the Duchies of Stiria, Carinthia, and Carniola, to Venice. Notwithstanding the mountainous nature of those countries, the roads are remarkably good. They were formed originally at a vast expence of labour to the inhabitants, but in such a durable manner, that it requires no great trouble to keep them in repair, to which all necessary attention seems to be paid. Some of the mountains are covered with wood, but more generally they are quite bare. Among them are many fields and vallies, fit for pasturage and the cultivation of grain; a few of these vallies are remarkably fertile, particularly in the Duchy of Carniola. The bowels of the earth abound in lead, copper, and iron. Stirian steel is reckoned excellent; and the little town of Idra, in Carniola, is famous for the quicksilver mines in its neighbourhood. It has been a matter of controversy among the learned (for the learned dispute about many things which the ignorant think of little importance), by what road the original inhabitants came, who first peopled Italy? And it has been decided by some, that they must have entered by this very country of Carniola. These gentlemen lay it down as an axiom, that the first inhabitants of every country in the world, that is not an island, must have come by land, and not by sea, on account of the ignorance of the early inhabitants of the earth in the art of navigation; but Italy being a peninsula, the only way to enter it by land, is at some part of the isthmus by which it is joined to the rest of Europe. The Alps form great part of that isthmus, and, in the early ages, would exclude strangers as effectually as the sea. The easiest, shortest, and only possible way of avoiding seas and mountains, in entering Italy, is by the Duchy of Carniola and Friuli. Ergo, they came that way. Q.E.D. In contradiction to the preceding demonstration, others assert, that the first inhabitants came in ships from Greece; and others have had the boldness to affirm, that Italy had as good a right as any other country to have inhabitants of its own original production, without being obliged to any vagrants whatever. I thought it right to give you the opinion of the learned on this country, because it is not in my power to describe it from my own observation; for we passed through those Duchies with a rapidity which baffles all description. The inns are as bad as the roads are good; for which reason we chose to sleep on the latter rather than in the former, and actually travelled five days and nights, without stopping any longer than was necessary to change horses. This method of travelling, however agreeable and improving it may be in other respects, is by no means calculated to give one the most perfect and lasting idea of the face of a country, or of the manners and characters of the inhabitants; and therefore I hope you will not insist upon an exact account of either. Among other curiosities which our uninterrupted and expeditious movement prevented us from observing with due attention, was the town of Gratz, the capital of Stiria, through which we unfortunately passed in the middle of the night. I did not regret this on account of the regularity of the streets, the venerable aspect of the churches, the sublime site of the castle, and other things which we had heard extolled; but solely because we had not an opportunity of visiting the shrine of St. Allan, a native of England, who formerly was a Dominican Monk of a convent in this town, and in high favour with the Virgin Mary, of which she gave him some proofs as strong as they were extraordinary. Amongst other marks of her regard, she used to comfort him with milk from her breasts. This, to be sure, is a mark of affection seldom bestowed upon favourites above a year old, and will, I dare say, surprise you a good deal. There is no great danger, however, that an example of this kind should spread among virgins. Of the fact in the present instance there can be no doubt; for it is recorded in an inscription underneath a portrait of the Saint, which is carefully preserved in the Dominican convent of this city. We continued our journey, in the full resolution of reaching Venice before we indulged in any other bed than the postchaise; but were obliged to stop short on a sudden for want of horses, at a small town called Wipach, bordering on the county of Goritia, in Carniola. Before setting out from Vienna, we had been informed, that the Archduke and his Princess were about to return to Milan; for which reason we thought it adviseable to remain at Vienna eight days after their departure, to avoid the inconveniencies which might arise from a deficiency of posthorses on such an unfrequented road. Having taken our measures with so much foresight, we little expected, when we actually did set out, to meet with any delay in our progress. The Archduke and his Duchess, however, had thought proper to go out of the direct road as far as Trieste, to view the late improvements of that town, whose commerce is greatly encouraged and protected by the Emperor; and remaining there a few days, all the posthorses which had been assembled to carry them to Trieste, were kept in the posthouses for their use; consequently we found none at Wipach. It began to grow dark when we arrived; the Postmaster was smoking his pipe at the door. As soon as the chaise stopped, we called to him to get ready the horses without loss of time; for, I added, with a tone of importance, that we could not possibly stay a moment. To this he replied coolly, that since we were in so very great a hurry, he should not attempt to detain us, but that he had no horses to carry us on. I asked, how soon they could be got. He answered, when they returned from attending the Archduke; but whether that would be the next day, the following, or a day or two after, he could not tell. It appeared a great hardship to be stopped short, so unexpectedly, at a little paultry inn, and we agreed that nothing could have happened more unfortunately. After a few hasty ejaculations, which regarded the posting establishment, and the Lords of Police of this country, we resolved to make a virtue of necessity, and bear our misfortunes with firmness and equanimity. As we stepped out of the chaise, I ordered the Postmaster, therefore, to get ready beds, a good supper, and some of his best wine. Instead of receiving these injunctions with marks of satisfaction, as I expected, he answered without emotion, that he had no wine but for his own drinking; that he never gave suppers to any but his own family; and that he had no bed, except that which he himself, his wife, and his child occupied, which could not easily hold any more than them three at a time. I had not hitherto perceived that this mans house was not an inn: as soon as I was undeceived, I begged he would inform us where the inn was. He pointed with his pipe to a small house on the opposite side of the street. There we were told, that all the victuals in the house were already devouredthree or four guests were in every spare roomthe family going to bedand they could not possibly receive any more company. We had nearly the same account at another little inn, and an absolute refusal at every house where we sued for admittance. The town of Wipach is so near Goritia, that no travellers, except those of the meanest kind, ever think of stopping at the former; and therefore the inhabitants have no idea of making preparations for other guests. In this dilemma I returned to our Postmaster, who was still smoking his pipe before the door. I informed him of our bad success, and, in a more soothing tone of voice than that in which I had formerly addressed him, begged to know how we were to dispose of ourselves that night. He replied, with admirable composure, that was more than he could tell; but as the horses were expected in a few days, if I should send him word where we were to be found, he would take care to let us know the moment they should be ready: in the mean time, as it began to rain, and the evening was exceedingly cold, he wished us a very good night. So saying, he went into the house, shutting and bolting the door very carefully after him. No philosopher, ancient or modern, ever supported the distresses of others with more equanimity than this man. We were now fully convinced, that to be under the necessity of remaining all night at an inn, when they incline to proceed on their journey, is not the most unfortunate thing that can befal travellers, and would have now been happy in that situation which we had considered with horror an hour or two before. In this forlorn condition I turned to an Italian servant of the Duke of Hs, a shrewd fellow, who seldom wanted a resource in times of difficulty. He seemed, however, a little nonplussed on the present emergency; he stood shrugging his shoulders, with his eyes fixed on the ground. At length, starting as if he had that instant awaked, he muttered, Cent ore di maniconia non pangano un quattrino di debito, and then walked away with an air not totally devoid of hope. I attended him, without knowing upon what his expectations were founded. We came to a convent of Monks, and got admittance; the Italian called for the Superior, and told him, in a few words, our condition. The venerable old man heard him with an air of benevolence; he expressed sorrow at the treatment we had received, and, desiring me to accompany him, said he would endeavour to find us lodgings. He conducted us to a poor looking house, occupied by a widow and her children. As soon as the good Monk had mentioned our case, she said we should be most welcome to such entertainment as she could afford. We had an excellent supper of sour krout, and sallad. I shall never forget it. I found her wine excellent, and her beds delightful; the good Monk seemed to enjoy the satisfaction we expressed, and positively refused to accept of any other recompence for his trouble. Had we found the most elegant inn, and the most luxurious supper at our arrival, we might possibly have spent the evening in repining at being disappointed in posthorses; but the dread of so small a misfortune as passing the night supperless in the streets, reconciled us at once to the widows hovel, and made us happy with her homely fare; so necessary is a certain portion of hardships or difficulties for giving a zest to enjoyment. Without them, the comforts of life are apt to become insipid; and we see that the people who, independent of any effort of their own, have every enjoyment at their command, are, perhaps, of all mankind, those who have the least enjoyment. The widow, as we understood in the morning, had sat up all night with her family, that we might be accommodated with beds. She had no reason to repent her hospitality. The poor womans gratitude made her talk loudly of the D of Hs generosity; which coming to the ears of the Postmaster, induced him to make an effort to get the chaises dragged on to Goritia, without waiting the return of the posthorses. This was performed by three carthorses and two oxen, which were relieved in the most mountainous part of the road by buffalos. There is a breed of these animals in this country; they are strong, hardy, and docile, and found preferable to either horses or oxen, for ploughing in a rough and hilly country. When we arrived at Goritia, we found the inhabitants in their holiday dresses, at the windows, and in the streets, waiting with impatience for a sight of the Grand Duke and Duchess. Having applied at the posthouse for horses, we were informed that none could be granted, all being retained for the accommodation of his Highness. I could not help remarking to the D of H, that Dukes seemed to be in a very different predicament from prophets in their own countries. Things turned out better than we had reason to expect. Their Highnesses arrived in the evening; and as they did not propose to leave Goritia till next morning, the Archduke had the politeness to give orders that the D of H should have what horses he wanted from the posthouses. We set out immediately, and arrived at the next stage between one and two in the morning. In that part of the world, raising the people at midnight, and harnessing the horses for two carriages, takes up, at least, as much time as driving two stages in some parts of England. Just as we were going out of the posthouse court, the Archdukes butler and cook arrived; they were going forward, as usual, to prepare supper, c. at the inn where their Highnesses intended to lie. They knew that the horses were all retained for their master, but had not heard of the particular order in favour of the D of H. Seeing ten horses going to set out, they exclaimed against the Postmaster, and threatened him with the vengeance of the whole house of Austria through all its branches, if he should permit a single horse to leave the posthouse till the Archduke and his suite had passed. The man, terrified with these threats, ordered the postilions to dismount, and put up the horses. This mandate was by no means agreeable to the D of H; and the Postmasters fear of the indignation of the Imperial family, was that instant lost in a danger which was presented to his face, and more immediately threatened his personhe ordered the postilions to drive on. The next post was at a small town in the Venetian State, where we found that orders had come from Venice to the same effect with those received at the different stages we had already past. The D of Hs Italian servant thought it would save time to make us pass for part of the company to which these orders relatedhe ordered horses in the name of the Grand Duke, and was instantly obeyedbut the butler and cook arriving soon after, told a different tale. Couriers were dispatched, one of whom overtook us, and, in the name of the magistrates, ordered the postilions to drive back, for we were a gang of impostures, who had no connection with the Grand Duke. The same arguments, however, which had so good an effect on the German Postmaster, prevailed also on the courier to be silent, and the postilions to proceed. It was midnight before we arrived at Mestre, a small town on the banks of the Lagune, five miles from Venice, where we remained all night. Next morning we hired a boat, and in two hours were landed in the middle of this city. We have taken very delightful apartments at an inn, on the side of the great canal. They had been just quitted by his Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, who is at present at Padua. Thus at length we are arrived in Italy Per varios casus,  tot discrimina rerum. LETTER II. Venice. A few days after our arrival at Venice, we met the Archduke and Duchess, at the house of the Imperial Ambassador. They were highly entertained with the history of their cook and butler, which I gave them at full length. The company consisted entirely of foreigners, the Venetian nobility never visiting in the houses of foreign ministers. Among other strangers was the son of the Duke of Berwick. This young gentleman has lately allied himself to the family from which he is descended, by marrying the sister of the Countess of Albany. I suppose you have heard that the Pretender, now at Florence, has assumed the title of Count Albany. Next day the D of H accompanied the Archduke and Duchess to the arsenal. They were attended by a deputation from the senate. Some Venetian ladies of the first distinction, in compliment to the Archduchess, were of the party. The arsenal at Venice is a fortification of between two and three miles in compass. On the ramparts are many little watchtowers, where centinels are stationed. Like the arsenal at Toulon, it is at once a dockyard, and repository for naval and military stores. Here the Venetians build their ships, cast their cannon, make their cables, sails, anchors, c. The arms are arranged here as in other places of the same kind, in large rooms divided into narrow walks by long walls of muskets, pikes, and halberts. Every thing having been prepared before the Archduke and Duchess arrived, a cannon was cast in their presence. After this the company were conducted on board the Bucentaur, or vessel in which the Doge is carried to espouse the Adriatic. Here they were regaled with wine and sweetmeats, the Venetian nobles doing the honours of the entertainment. The Bucentaur is kept under cover, and never taken out but for the espousals. It is formed for containing a very numerous company, is finely gilt and ornamented within, and loaded on the outside with emblematical figures in sculpture. This vessel may possibly be admired by landsmen, but will not much charm a seamans eye, being a heavy broadbottomed machine, which draws little water, and consequently may be easily overset in a gale of wind. Of this, however, there is no great danger, as two precautions are taken to prevent such an accident; one of which seems calculated to quiet the minds of believers, and the other to give confidence to the most incredulous. The first is used by the Patriarch, who, as soon as the vessel is afloat, takes care to pour into the sea some holy water, which is believed to have the virtue of preventing or allaying storms. The second is entrusted to the Admiral, who has the discretionary power of postponing the marriage ceremony, when the bride seems in the smallest degree boisterous. One of the virtues of the holy water, that of allaying storms, is by this means rendered superfluous. But when the weather is quite favourable, the ceremony is performed every Ascension Day. The solemnity is announced in the morning by the ringing of bells and firing of cannon. About midday the Doge, attended by a numerous party of the senate and clergy, goes on board the Bucentaur; the vessel is rowed a little way into the sea, accompanied by the splendid yachts of the foreign Ambassadors, the gondolas of the Venetian nobility, and an incredible number of barks and gallies of every kind. Hymns are sung, and a band of music performs, while the Bucentaur and her attendants slowly move towards St. Lido, a small island, two miles from Venice. Prayers are then said; after which the Doge drops a ring, of no great value, into the sea, pronouncing these wordsDesponsamus te, Mare, in signum veri perpetuique dominii. The sea, like a modest bride, assents by her silence, and the marriage is deemed valid and secure to all intents and purposes. Certain it is, the time has been, when the Doge had entire possession of, and dominion over, his spouse; but, for a considerable time past, her favours have been shared by several other lovers; or, according to that violent metaphor of Otways, now Their Great Duke shrinks, trembling in his palace, And sees his wife, the Adriatic, ploughd, Like a lewd whore, by bolder prows than his. After viewing every thing in the arsenal, the Archduke and Duchess, with all the company, were invited on board some boats which had been prepared for their reception. They were directly rowed to that part of the lake from whence there was the most advantageous view of Venice, a band of music performing all the time; while the sailors, in two or three small boats, were employed in fishing oysters, which they opened and presented to the company. The amusements of this day had all the advantage of novelty to render them agreeable to strangers, and every additional pleasure which the attentive and polite behaviour of the Venetian nobility could give. LETTER III. Venice. As this is not the time of any of the public solemnities which draw strangers to Venice, it is fortunate that we happen to be here with the Archduke and Duchess. The great respect which this state is anxious of shewing the Imperial family, has brought many of the nobility to Venice, who would otherwise have been at their country seats on the continent, and has also given us opportunities of seeing some things to more advantage than we could otherwise have done. I had the honour of attending their Highnesses when they went to visit the island of Murano. This is about a mile from Venice, was formerly a very flourishing place, and still boasts some palaces which bear the marks of former magnificence, though now in a state of decay. The island is said to contain 20,000 inhabitants. The great manufactories of lookingglasses are the only inducements which strangers have to visit this place. I saw one very fine plate, for a mirror, made in the presence of the Archduke in a few minutes: though not so large as some I have seen of the Paris manufactory, yet it was much larger than I could have thought it in the power of human lungs to blow. Instead of being cast, as in France and England, the Murano mirrors are all blown in the manner of bottles. It is astonishing to see with what dexterity the workman wields a long hollow cylinder of melted glass, at the end of an iron tube, which, when he has extended as much as possible, by blowing, and every other means his art suggests, he slits with a sharp instrument, removing the two extremities from each other, and folding back the sides: the cylinder now appears a large sheet of glass, which being once more introduced into the furnace, is brought out a clear, finished plate. This manufactory formerly served all Europe with lookingglasses; the quantity made here is still considerable; for although France and England, and some other countries, make their own mirrors, yet, by the natural progress of luxury, those countries which still get their mirrors and other things from Murano, use a much greater quantity now than formerly; so that on the supposition that the Murano manufacturers have lost threefourths of their customers, they may still retain half as much trade as they ever had. It is surprising that, instead of blowing, they do not adopt the method of casting, which I should think a much easier process, and by which larger plates may be made. Besides mirrors, an infinite quantity of glass trinkets (margaritini as they are called) of all shapes and colours are made here. Women of the inferior ranks wear them as ornaments, and as rosaries; they also mould this substance into many various whimsical forms, by way of ornamental furniture to houses and churches. In short, there are glass baubles enough made here to bribe into slavery half the inhabitants of the coast of Guinea. Since the departure of the Archduke and Duchess, the D of H has passed his time mostly in the houses of the foreign Ambassadors, the best resource here, next to the theatres, for strangers. We were lately at a conversazione at the Spanish Ambassadors; it might have passed for a pantomime entertainment. The Ambassador, his lady, and daughters, speak no language but Spanish; and unfortunately this was understood by none of the company but the Duke of Berwicks son. Hearing that Mr. Montague resided at Venice, the D of H has had the curiosity to wait on that extraordinary man. He met his Grace at the stairhead, and led us through some apartments, furnished in the Venetian manner, into an inner room in quite a different style. There were no chairs, but he desired us to seat ourselves on a sopha, whilst he placed himself on a cushion on the floor, with his legs crossed in the Turkish fashion. A young black slave sat by him, and a venerable old man, with a long beard, served us with coffee. After this collation some aromatic gums were brought, and burnt in a little silver vessel. Mr. Montague held his nose over the steam for some minutes, and snuffed up the perfume with peculiar satisfaction; he afterwards endeavoured to collect the smoke with his hands, spreading and rubbing it carefully along his beard, which hung in hoary ringlets to his girdle. This manner of perfuming the beard seems more cleanly, and rather an improvement upon that used by the Jews in ancient times, as described in the psalms translated by Sternhold and Hopkins. Tis like the precious ointment, that Was pourd on Aarons head, Which from the beard down to the skirts Of his rich garments spread. Or, as the Scotch translation has it: Like precious ointment on the head That down the beard did flow; Even Aarons beard, and to the skirts Did of his garments go. Which of these versions is preferable, I leave to the critics in Hebrew and English poesy to determine. I hope, for the sake of Davids reputation as a poet, that neither have retained all the spirit of the original. We had a great deal of conversation with this venerable looking person, who is, to the last degree, acute, communicative, and entertaining, and in whose discourse and manners are blended the vivacity of a Frenchman with the gravity of a Turk. We found him, however, wonderfully prejudiced in favour of the Turkish characters and manners, which he thinks infinitely preferable to the European, or those of any other nation. He describes the Turks in general as a people of great sense and integrity, the most hospitable, generous, and the happiest of mankind. He talks of returning, as soon as possible to Egypt, which he paints as a perfect paradise; and thinks that, had it not been otherwise ordered for wise purposes, of which it does not become us to judge, the children of Israel would certainly have chosen to remain where they were, and have endeavoured to drive the Egyptians to the land of Canaan. Though Mr. Montague hardly ever stirs abroad, he returned the Ds visit; and as we were not provided with cushions, he sat, while he staid, upon a sopha, with his legs under him, as he had done at his own house. This posture, by long habit, is now become the most agreeable to him, and he insists on its being by far the most natural and convenient; but, indeed, he seems to cherish the same opinion with regard to all the customs which prevail among the Turks. I could not help mentioning one, which I suspected would be thought both unnatural and inconvenient by at least one half of the human race; that of the men being allowed to engross as many women as they can maintain, and confining them to the most insipid of all lives, within their harams. No doubt, replied he, the women are all enemies to polygamy and concubinage; and there is reason to imagine, that this aversion of theirs, joined to the great influence they have in all Christian countries, has prevented Mahometanism from making any progress in Europe. The Turkish men, on the other hand, continued he, have an aversion to Christianity, equal to that which the Christian women have to the religion of Mahomet: auricular confession is perfectly horrible to their imagination. No Turk, of any delicacy, would ever allow his wife, particularly if he had but one, to hold private conference with a man, on any pretext whatever. I took notice, that this aversion to auricular confession, could not be a reason for the Turks dislike to the Protestant religion. That is true, said he, but you have other tenets in common with the Catholics, which renders your religion as odious as theirs. You forbid polygamy and concubinage, which, in the eyes of the Turks, who obey the dictates of the religion they embrace, is considered as an intolerable hardship. Besides, the idea which your religion gives of heaven, is by no means to their taste. If they believed your account, they would think it the most tiresome and comfortless place in the universe, and not one Turk among a thousand would go to the Christian heaven if he had it in his choice. Lastly, the Christian religion considers women, as creatures upon a level with men, and equally entitled to every enjoyment, both here and hereafter. When the Turks are told this, added he, they are not surprised at being informed also, that women, in general, are better Christians than men; but they are perfectly astonished that an opinion, which they think so contrary to common sense, should subsist among the rational, that is to say, the male part of Christians. It is impossible, added Mr. Montague, to drive it out of the head of a Mussulman, that women are creatures of a subordinate species, created merely to comfort and amuse men during their journey through this vain world, but by no means worthy of accompanying believers to paradise, where females, of a nature far superior to women, wait with impatience to receive all pious Mussulmen into their arms. It is needless to relate to you any more of our conversation. A lady, to whom I was giving an account of it the day on which it happened, could with difficulty allow me to proceed thus far in my narrative; but, interrupting me with impatience, she said, she was surprised I could repeat all the nonsensical, detestable, impious maxims of those odious Mahometans; and she thought Mr. Montague should be sent back to Egypt, with his long beard, and not be allowed to propagate opinions, the bare mention of which, however reasonable they might appear to Turks, ought not to be tolerated in any Christian land. LETTER IV. Venice. The view of Venice, at some little distance from the town, is mentioned by many travellers in terms of the highest admiration. I had been so often forewarned of the amazement with which I should be struck at first sight of this city, that when I actually did see it, I felt little or no amazement at all. You will behold, said those anticipators, a magnificent town,or more frequently, to make the deeper impression, they gave it in detailYou will behold, said they, magnificent palaces, churches, towers and steeples, all standing in the middle of the sea. Well; this, unquestionably, is an uncommon scene; and there is no manner of doubt that a town, surrounded by water, is a very fine sight; but all the travellers that have existed since the days of Cain, will not convince me, that a town, surrounded by land, is not a much finer. Can there be any comparison, in point of beauty, between the dull monotony of a watery surface, and the delightful variety of gardens, meadows, hills, and woods? If the situation of Venice renders it less agreeable than another city, to behold at a distance, it must render it, in a much stronger degree, less agreeable to inhabit. For you will please to recollect, that, instead of walking or riding in the fields, and enjoying the fragrance of herbs, and the melody of birds; when you wish to take the air here, you must submit to be paddled about, from morning to night, in a narrow boat, along dirty canals; or, if you dont like this, you have one resource more, which is, that of walking in St. Marks Place. These are the disadvantages which Venice labours under, with regard to situation; but it has other peculiarities, which, in the opinion of many, overbalance them, and render it, on the whole, an agreeable town. Venice is said to be built in the sea; that is, it is built in the midst of shallows, which stretch some miles from the shore, at the bottom of the Adriatic Gulph. Though those shallows, being now all covered with water, have the appearance of one great lake, yet they are called Lagune, or lakes, because formerly, as it is imagined, there were several. On sailing on the Laguna, and looking to the bottom, many large hollows are to be seen, which, at some former period, have, very possibly, been distinct lakes, though now, being all covered with a common surface of water, they form one large lake, of unequal depth. The intervals between those hollows, it is supposed, were little islands, and are now shallows, which, at ebb, are all within reach of a pole. When you approach the city, you come along a liquid road, marked by rows of stakes on each side, which direct vessels, of a certain burthen, to avoid the shallows, and keep in deeper water. These shallows are a better defence to the city than the strongest fortifications. On the approach of an enemys fleet, the Venetians have only to pull up their stakes, and the enemy can advance no farther. They are equally beyond the insult of a land army, even in the midst of winter; for the flux and reflux of the sea, and the mildness of the climate, prevent such a strength of ice as could admit the approach of an army that way. The lake in which Venice stands, is a kind of small inner gulph, separated from the large one by some islands, at a few miles distance. These islands, in a great measure, break the force of the Adriatic storms, before they reach the Laguna; yet, in very high winds, the navigation of the lake is dangerous to gondolas, and sometimes the gondoleers do not trust themselves, even on the canals within the city. This is not so great an inconveniency to the inhabitants as you may imagine; because most of the houses have one door opening upon a canal, and another communicating with the street; by means of which, and of the bridges, you can go to almost any part of the town by land, as well as by water. The number of inhabitants are computed at about 150,000; the streets, in general, are narrow; so are the canals, except the grand canal; which is very broad, and has a serpentine course through the middle of the city. They tell you, there are several hundred bridges in Venice. What pass under this name, however, are single arches thrown over the canals; most of them paltry enough. The Rialto consists also of a single arch, but a very noble one, and of marble. It is built across the grand canal, near the middle, where it is narrowest. This celebrated arch is ninety feet wide on the level of the canal, and twentyfour feet high. Its beauty is impaired by two rows of booths, or shops, which are erected upon it, and divide its upper surface into three narrow streets. The view from the Rialto is equally lively and magnificent; the objects under your eye are the grand canal, covered with boats and gondolas, and flanked on each side with magnificent palaces, churches, and spires; but this fine prospect is almost the only one in Venice; for, except the Grand Canal, and the Canal Regio, all the others are narrow and mean; some of them have no keys; the water literally washes the walls of the houses. When you sail along those wretched canals, you have no one agreeable object to cheer the sight; and the smell is overwhelmed with the stench which, at certain seasons, exhales from the water. LETTER V. Venice. As the only agreeable view in Venice is from the grand canal, so the only place where you can walk with ease and safety, is in the piazza di St. Marco. This is a kind of irregular quadrangle, formed by a number of buildings, all singular in their kind, and very different from each other. The Ducal palacethe church of St. Markthat of St. Giminianoa noble range of buildings, called Procuratie, the new and the old, in which are the Museum, the public library, and nine large apartments belonging to the Procurators of St. Mark; all these buildings are of marble. There is an opening from St. Marks Place to the sea, on which stand two lofty pillars of granite. Criminals condemned to suffer death publicly, are executed between these pillars; on the top of one of them is a lion, with wings; and on the other, a saintwithout wings;there is, however, a large crocodile at his feet, which, I presume, belongs to him. At one corner of St. Marks church, contiguous to the palace, are two statues of Adam and Eve; they have neither wings nor crocodile, nor any kind of attendant, not even their old acquaintance, the serpent. At the corner of the new Procuratie, a little distant from the church, stands the steeple of St. Mark. This is a quadrangular tower, about three hundred feet in height. I am told it is not uncommon in Italy for the church and steeple to be in this state of disunion; this shocked a clergyman, of my acquaintance, very much; he mentioned it to me, many years ago, amongst the errors and absurdities of the church of Rome. The gentleman was clearly of opinion, that church and steeple ought to be inseparable as man and wife, and that every church ought to consider its steeple as mortar of its mortar, and stone of its stone. An old captain of a ship, who was present, declared himself of the same way of thinking, and swore that a church, divorced from its steeple, appeared to him as ridiculous as a ship without a mast. A few paces from the church are three tall poles, on which ensigns and flags are hung on days of public rejoicing. These standards are in memory of the three kingdoms, Cyprus, Candia, and Negropont, which once belonged to this republic; the three crowns are still kept in the Ducal palace. Since the kingdoms are gone, I should think the crowns and the poles hardly worth preserving; they are, however, of the same value to Venice, that the title of King of France is to his Britannic Majesty. At the bottom of the Tower of St. Mark, is a small neat building of marble, called the Loggietta, where some of the Procurators of St. Mark constantly attend to do business. Some people are of opinion that, particularly when the grand council, or the senate, are assembled, these Procurators are placed there, as state centinels, to give warning in case of any appearance of discontent or commotion among the populace, which must necessarily shew itself at this place, as there is no other in Venice where a mob could assemble. The patriarchal church of St. Mark, though one of the richest and most expensive in the world, does not strike the eye very much at first; the architecture is of a mixed kind, mostly Gothic, yet many of the pillars are of the Grecian orders; the outside is incrusted with marble; the inside, cieling, and floor, are all of the finest marble; the numerous pillars which support the roof are of the same substance; the whole is crowned by five domes;but all this labour and expence have been directed by a very moderate share of taste. The front, which looks to the palace, has five brass gates, with historical basrelieves; over the principal gate are placed the four famous bronze horses, said to be the workmanship of Lycippus; they were given to the emperor Nero, by Tiridates, king of Armenia; the fiery spirit of their countenances, and their animated attitudes, are perfectly agreeable to their original destination, of being harnessed to the chariot of the Sun.Nero placed them on the triumphal arch consecrated to him, and they are to be seen on the reverse of some of his medals; they were removed from Rome to Constantinople, placed in the Hyppodrome by Constantine, and remained there till the taking of Constantinople by the French and Venetians in the beginning of the 13th century, when they were carried to Venice, and placed upon the gate of St. Marks church. The treasury of St. Mark is very rich in jewels and relics; and it was necessary to apply to one of the Procurators of St. Mark for leave to see it. I shall only mention a few of the most valuable effects kept here. Eight pillars from Solomons temple at Jerusalem; a piece of the Virgin Marys veil, some of her hair, and a small portion of her milk; the knife used by our Saviour, at his last supper; one of the nails of the cross, and a few drops of his blood. After these it would be impertinent to enumerate the bones, and other relics, of saints and martyrs, of which there is a plentiful show in this church, and still less need I take up your time with an inventory of the temporal jewels kept here; it would be unpardonable, however, to omit mentioning the picture of the Virgin, by St. Luke. From this, compared with his other works, it is plain, that St. Luke was a much better evangelist than painter: some professions seem to be almost incompatible with each other. I have known many very good painters who would have made bad saints, and here is an instance of an excellent saint who was but an indifferent painter. The old Procuratie is built of a kind of black marble; the new is of the pietra dura of Istria. The church of St. Geminiano is an elegant piece of architecture, by Sansovino. The Ducal palace is an immense building, entirely of marble. Besides the apartments of the Doge, there are also halls and chambers for the senate, and all the different councils and tribunals. The principal entrance is by a spacious stair, called the Giants stair, on account of two Colossal statues of Mars and Neptune, placed at the top; they are of white marble, the work of Sansovino, and intended to represent the naval and military power of this state. Their gigantic size might be proper enough formerly, but they would be juster emblems of the present force of this republic if their stature were more moderate. Under the porticoes, to which you ascend by this stair, you may perceive the gaping mouths of lions, to receive anonymous letters, informations of treasonable practices, and accusations of magistrates for abuses in office. From the palace there is a covered bridge of communication to a state prison, on the other side of the canal. Prisoners pass to and from the courts over this bridge, which is named Ponte Dei Sospiri. The apartments and halls of the Ducal palace are ornamented by the pencils of Titian, Paul Veronese, Tintoret, Palma, the Bassans, and other painters. The rape of Europa, and the storming of Zara, both by Paul Veronese are amongst the highest esteemed pieces of that master. The foot of Europa is honoured with the particular admiration of the connoisseurs; the bull seems to be of their way of thinking, for he licks it as he bears her along above the waves. Some people admire even this thought of the painter; I cannot say I am of the number: I think it is the only thing in the picture which is not admirable; it is making Jupiter enter a little too much into the character which he had assumed. There are a few pictures in this palace by Titian, but a great many by the other masters. The subjects are mostly taken from the history of Venice. Within the palace there is a little arsenal, which communicates with the hall of the great council. Here a great number of muskets are kept, ready charged, with which the nobles may arm themselves on any sudden insurrection, or other emergency. The lower gallery, or the piazza under the palace, is called the Broglio. In this the noble Venetians walk and converse: it is only here, and at council, where they have opportunities of meeting together; for they seldom visit openly, or in a family way, at each others houses, and secret meetings would give umbrage to the state inquisitors; they chuse, therefore, to transact their business on this public walk. People of inferior rank seldom remain on the Broglio for any length of time when the nobility are there. LETTER VI. Venice. I was led, in my last, into a very particular (and I wish you may not have also found it a very tedious) description of St. Marks Place. There is no help for what is past, but, for your comfort, you have nothing of the same kind to fear while we remain here; for there is not another square, or place as the French with more propriety call them, in all Venice. To compensate, however, for their being but one, there is a greater variety of objects to be seen at this one, than in any half dozen of the squares, or places, of London or Paris. After our eyes had been dazzled with looking at pictures, and our legs cramped with sitting in a gondola, it is no small relief, and amusement, to saunter in the Place of St. Mark. The number and diversity of objects which there present themselves to the eye, naturally create a very rapid succession of ideas. The sight of the churches awakens religious sentiments, and, by an easy transition, the mind is led to contemplate the influence of superstition. In the midst of this reverie, Neros four horses appear, and carry the fancy to Rome and Constantinople. While you are forcing your way, sword in hand, with the heroic Henry Dandelo, into the capital of Asia, Adam and Eve stop your progress, and lead you to the garden of Eden. You have not long enjoyed a state of innocence and happiness in that delightful paradise, till Eve her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucks, she eats. After that unfortunate repast, no more comfort being to be found there, you are glad to mount St. Marks winged lion, and fly back to the Ducal palace, where you will naturally reflect on the rise and progress of the Venetian state, and the various springs of their government. While you admire the strength of a constitution which has stood firm for so many ages, you are appalled at the sight of the lions mouth gaping for accusations; and turning with horror from a place where innocence seems exposed to the attacks of hidden malice, you are regaled with a prospect of the sea, which opens your return to a country of real freedom, where justice rejects the libel of the hidden accuser, and dares to try, condemn, and execute openly, the highest, as well as the lowest, delinquent. I assure you I have, more than once, made all this tour, standing in the middle of St. Marks square; whereas, in the French places, you have nothing before your eyes but monuments of the monarchs vanity, and the peoples adulation; and in the greater part of the London squares, and streets, what idea can present itself to the imagination, beyond that of the snug neatness and conveniency of substantial brick houses? I have been speaking hitherto of a morning saunter; for in the evening there generally is, on St. Marks Place, such a mixed multitude of Jews, Turks, and Christians; lawyers, knaves, and pickpockets; mountebanks, old women, and physicians; women of quality, with masks; strumpets barefaced; and, in short, such a jumble of senators, citizens, gondoleers, and people of every character and condition, that your ideas are broken, bruised, and dislocated in the crowd, in such a manner, that you can think, or reflect, on nothing; yet this being a state of mind which many people are fond of, the place never fails to be well attended, and, in fine weather, numbers pass a great part of the night there. When the piazza is illuminated, and the shops, in the adjacent streets, lighted up, the whole has a brilliant effect; and as it is the custom for the ladies, as well as the gentlemen, to frequent the cassinos and coffeehouses around, the Place of St. Mark answers all the purposes of either Vauxhall or Ranelagh. It is not in St. Marks Place that you are to look for the finest monuments of the art of Titian, or the genius of Palladio; for those you must visit the churches and palaces: but if you are inclined to make that tour, you must find another Cicerone, for I shall certainly not undertake the office. I do not pretend to be a competent judge of painting or architecture; I have no new remarks to make on those subjects, and I wish to avoid a hackneyed repetition of what has been said by others. Some people seem affected by paintings to a degree which I never could feel, and can scarcely conceive. I admire the works of Guido and Raphael, but there are amateurs who fall downright in love with every man, woman, or angel, produced by those painters. When the subject is pathetic, I am often struck with the genius and execution of the artist, and touched with the scene represented, but without feeling those violent emotions of grief which some others display. I have seen a man so affected with the grief of Venus, for the death of Adonis, that he has wiped his eyes as if he had been shedding tears; and have heard another express as much horror at the martyrdom of a saint, as he could have done had he been present at the real execution. Horaces observation is perfectly just, as he applies it, Segnis irritant animos demissa per aurem, Qu m qu sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus He is treating of dramatic pieces; Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur, is the preceding line. On the stage, what is actually represented, makes a stronger impression than what is only related; and in real life, no doubt, we should be more shocked by seeing a murder committed, than by hearing an account of it. But whether seeing a pathetic story expressed in painting, or hearing it related, has the most powerful effect, is a different question. I only say for myself, that, on contemplating a painted tragedy, I can never help recollecting that it is acted upon canvas. This never fails to dart such a ray of comfort into my heart, as cheers it up, in spite of all the blood and carnage I see before my eyes. With a mind so vulgarly fabricated, you will not be surprised when I acknowledge, that I have felt more compassion at the sight of a single highwayman going to Tyburn, than at the massacre of two thousand innocents, though executed by Nicholas Poussin himself. This convinces me that I am not endued with the organs of a connoisseur. But if you are violently bent upon being thought a man of very refined taste, there are books in abundance to be had, which will put you in possession of all the terms of technical applause, or censure, and furnish you with suitable expressions for the whole climax of sensibility. As for myself, I was long ago taught a lesson, which made a deep impression on my mind, and will effectually prevent me from every affectation of that kind. Very early in life, I resided above a year at Paris, and happened one day to accompany five or six of our countrymen, to view the pictures in the Palais Royal. A gentleman who affected an enthusiastic passion for the fine arts; particularly that of painting, and who had the greater desire to be thought a connoisseur, was of the party. He had read the lives of the painters, and had the Voyage Pittoresque de Paris by heart. From the moment we entered the rooms he began to display all the refinements of his taste; he instructed us what to admire, and drew us away with every sign of disgust when we stopped a moment at an uncelebrated picture. We were afraid of appearing pleased with any thing we saw; till he informed us whether or not it was worth looking at. He shook his head at some, tossed up his nose at others; commended a few, and pronounced sentence on every piece, as he passed along, with the most imposing tone of sagacity.Bad, that Caravaggio is too bad indeed, devoid of all grace;but here is a Caracci that makes amends; how charming the grief of that Magdalen! The Virgin, youll observe, gentlemen, is only fainting, but the Christ is quite dead. Look at the arm, did you ever see any thing so dead?Aye, heres a Madona, which they tell you is an original, by Guido; but any body may see that it is only a tolerable copy.Pray, gentlemen, observe this St. Sebastian, how delightfully he expires: Dont you all feel the arrow in your hearts? Im sure I feel it in mine. Do let us move on; I should die with agony if I looked any longer. We at length came to the St. John, by Raphael, and here this man of taste stopped short in an extasy of admiration.One of the company had already passed it, without minding it, and was looking at another picture; on which the connoisseur bawled outGood God, Sir! what are you about? The honest gentleman started, and stared around to know what crime he had been guilty of. Have you eyes in your head, Sir? continued the connoisseur: Dont you know St. John when you see him? St. John! replied the other, in amazement. Aye, Sir, St. John the Baptist, in propria persona. I dont know what you mean, Sir, said the gentleman, peevishly. Dont you? rejoined the connoisseur; then Ill endeavour to explain myself. I mean St. John in the wilderness, by the divine Raffaelle Sanzio da Urbino, and there he stands by your side.Pray, my dear Sir, will you be so obliging as to bestow a little of your attention on that foot? Does it not start from the wall? Is it not perfectly out of the frame? Did you ever see such colouring? They talk of Titian; can Titians colouring excel that? What truth, what nature in the head! To the elegance of the antique, here is joined the simplicity of nature. We stood listening in silent admiration, and began to imagine we perceived all the perfections he enumerated; when a person in the Duke of Orleans service came and informed us, that the original, which he presumed was the picture we wished to see, was in another room; the Duke having allowed a painter to copy it. That which we had been looking at was a very wretched daubing, done from the original by some obscure painter, and had been thrown, with other rubbish, into a corner; where the Swiss had accidentally discovered it, and had hung it up merely by way of covering the vacant space on the wall, till the other should be replaced. How the connoisseur looked on this trying occasion, I cannot say. It would have been barbarous to have turned an eye upon himI stepped into the next room, fully determined to be cautious in deciding on the merit of painting; perceiving that it was not safe, in this science, to speak even from the book. LETTER VII. Venice. We acquire an early partiality for Rome, by reading the classics, and the history of the ancient republic. Other parts of Italy also interest us more on account of their having been the residence of the old Romans, than from the regard we pay to what has been transacted there during the last fourteen or fifteen centuries. Venice claims no importance from ancient history, and boasts no connection with the Roman republic; it sprung from the ruins of that empire; and whatever its annals offer worthy of the attention of mankind, is independent of the prejudice we feel in favour of the Roman name. The independence of Venice was not built on usurpation, nor cemented with blood; it was founded on the first law of human nature, and the undoubted rights of man. About the middle of the fifth century, when Europe formed one continued scene of violence and bloodshed; a hatred of tyranny, a love of liberty, and a dread of the cruelty of Barbarians, prompted the Veneti, a people inhabiting a small district of Italy, a few of the inhabitants of Padua, and some peasants who lived on the fertile banks of the Po, to seek an asylum from the fury of Atilla, amongst the little islands and marshes at the bottom of the Adriatic Gulph. Before this time some fishermen had built small houses, or huts, on one of these islands, called Rialto. The city of Padua, with a view to draw commercial advantages from this establishment, encouraged some of her inhabitants to settle there, and sent every year three or four citizens to act as magistrates. When Attila had taken and destroyed Aquileia, great numbers from all the neighbouring countries fled to Rialto; whose size being augmented by new houses, took the name of Venice, from the district from which the greater number of the earliest refugees had fled. On the death of Attila, many returned to their former habitations; but those who preferred freedom and security to all other advantages, remained at Venice. Such was the beginning of this celebrated republic. Some nice distinguishers pretend, that this was the beginning of their freedom, but not of their independency; for they assert, that the Venetians were dependent on Padua, as their mother city. It is certain that the Paduans claimed such a prerogative over this infant state, and attempted to subject her to some commercial restrictions; these were rejected by the Venetians, as arbitrary and vexatious. Disputes arose very dangerous to both; but they ended in Venice entirely throwing off the jurisdiction of Padua. It is curious, and not unworthy of serious attention in the present age, to see the parent now totally subjected to the child, whom she wished to retain in too rigorous a dependence. The irruption of the Lombards into Italy, while it spread havoc and destruction over the adjacent country, was the cause of a great accession of strength to Venice, by the numbers of new refugees who fled to it with all the wealth they could carry, and became subjects of this state. The Lombards themselves, while they established their kingdom in the northern parts of Italy, and subdued all the ancient district of the Veneti, thought proper to leave this little state unmolested, imagining that an attempt against it would be attended with more trouble than profit; and while they carried on more important conquests, they found it convenient to be on a good footing with Venice, whose numerous squadrons of small vessels could render the most essential services to their armies. Accordingly leagues and treaties were formed occasionally between the two states; the Lombards in all probability imagining, that it would be in their power, at any time, to make themselves masters of this inconsiderable republic. But when that people had fully established their new kingdom, and were free from the expence of other wars, they then found Venice so much increased in strength, that, however much they might have wished to comprehend it within their dominions, it appeared no longer consistent with sound policy to make the attempt. They therefore chose rather to confirm their ancient alliance by fresh treaties. When Charlemagne overturned the kingdom of the Lombards, and, after having sent their king Didier prisoner to France, was crowned emperor at Rome, by Leo the Third, the Venetian state cultivated the favour of that conqueror with so much address, that, instead of attempting any thing against their independence, he confirmed the treaty they had made with the Lombards; by which, among other things, the limits, or boundaries, between the two states, were ascertained. In the wars with the eastern empire, and in those of later date between France and the house of Austria, Venice always endeavoured to avoid the resentment of either of the contending parties; secretly, however, assisting that which was at the greatest distance from her own dominions, and, of consequence, the least formidable to her. Those great powers, on their parts, were so eager to humble, or destroy, each other, that the rising vigour of Venice was permitted to grow, for ages, almost unobserved. Like the fame of Marcellus, it might have been said of that republic, Crescit occulto velut arbor vo. And when, at length, she began to excite the jealousy of the great states of Europe, she had acquired strength and revenues sufficient to resist not only one, but great combinations of those powers leagued for her destruction. This republic, in its various periods of increase, of meridian splendor, and of declension, has already existed for a longer time than any other of which history makes mention. The Venetians themselves assert, that this duration is owing to the excellent materials of which their government has been composed, by which they imagine it has long since been brought to the highest degree of perfection. As I have bestowed some time since we came hither in considering the Venetian history and government, I shall, in my next, take a general view of those boasted materials, that we may be able to judge whether or not this high eulogium is well founded. LETTER VIII. Venice. The first form of government established at Venice, was purely democratical. Magistrates were chosen by a general assembly of the people: they were called tribunes; and as this small community inhabited several little islands, a tribune was appointed to judge causes, and distribute justice on each of those islands. His power was continued one year; at the expiration of which, he was accountable for his conduct to the general assembly of the people, who annually elected a new set of tribunes. This simple form of government, while it marks a strict regard to that freedom so delightful to the mind of man, was found sufficient, for the space of a hundred and fifty years, to maintain order in a small community, situated as this was. At length the bad administration of some of the tribunes, discord and animosity among others, and some suspicions that the Lombards promoted civil dissention, with a view to bring the republic under their dominion, awakened the fears of the people, and made them listen to the opinions of those who thought a change in the form of government necessary. After various debates and proposals, it was finally determined, that a chief magistrate should be elected, as the centre of public authority, whose power might give such vigour and efficacy to the laws, as was absolutely necessary in times of danger, and whose duty should be, to direct the force of the resources of the state with promptitude; uncramped by that opposition, and consequent dilatoriness, which had been too apparent under the tribunes. This magistrate was not to be named King, but Duke, which has since been corrupted to Doge; the office was not to be hereditary, but elective; and the Doge was to enjoy it for life. It was agreed that he should have the nomination of all the inferior magistrates, and the power of making peace, and declaring war, without consulting any but such of the citizens as he should think proper. When the election took place, all the suffrages fell upon Paul Luc Anafeste, who entered into this new office in the year 697. The Venetians must certainly have felt great inconveniences from their former government, or have been under great dread from domestic or foreign enemies, before they could submit to such a fundamental change in the nature of their constitution. It is evident, that, on this occasion, they seem to have lost that jealous attention to liberty which they formerly possessed; for while they withheld from their chief magistrate the name, they left him all the power, of a King. There is no period when real and enlightened patriots ought to watch with more vigilance over the rights of the people, than in times of danger from foreign enemies; for the public in general are then so much engrossed by the dangers from without, that they overlook the encroachments which are more apt, at those times than any other, to be made on their constitution from within: and it is of small importance that men defend their country from foreign foes, unless they retain such a share of internal freedom, as renders a country worth the defending. It is highly probable, that the great degree of popularity which their first Doge had acquired before he arrived at that dignity, and the great confidence the people had in his public and private virtues, rendered them unwilling to limit the power of a person who, they were convinced, would make a good use of it. If the man had been immortal, and incorruptible, they would have been in the right: however, it must be confessed, that this Doge justified their good opinion more than favourites of the people generally do. In the councils which he called on any matter of importance, he sent messages to those citizens, for whose judgment he had the greatest esteem, praying, that they would come, and assist him with their advice. This method was observed afterwards by succeeding Doges, and the citizens so sent for were called Pregadi. The Doges council are still called Pregadi, though they have long sat independent of his invitation. The first, and second Doge, governed with moderation and ability; but the third gave the Venetians reason to repent that they had not confined the powers of their chief magistrate within narrower limits. After having served the state by his military talents, he endeavoured to enslave it; his projects were discovered; but as the improvident people, in the last arrangement of their constitution, had preserved no legal remedy for such an evil, they were obliged to use the only means now in their power. They assaulted the Doge in his palace, and put him to death without farther ceremony. The people had conceived so much hatred for him, that, after his death, they resolved to abolish the office. In the general assembly it was agreed, that the chief magistrate, for the future, should be elected every year; that he should have the same power as formerly, while he remained in office; but, as this was to be for a short time, they imagined he would behave with equity and moderation; and as they had an equal dislike to Doge and Tribune, he was called Master of the Militia. The form of government, introduced by this revolution, was but of short duration. Factions arose, and became too violent for the transient authority of the Masters of the Militia to restrain. The office expired five years after its institution; and, by one of those strange and unaccountable changes of sentiment, to which the multitude are so subject, the authority of the Doge was restored in the person of the son of their last Doge, whom, in a fit of furious discontent, they had assassinated. This restoration happened about the year 730. For a long time after this, the Venetian annals display many dreadful scenes of cruelty, revolt, and assassination; Doges abusing their power, endeavouring to establish a permanent and hereditary despotism, by having their eldest sons associated in the office with themselves, and then oppressing the people with double violence. The people, on the other hand, after bearing, with the most abject patience, the capricious cruelty of their tyrants, rising at once, and murdering them, or driving them, with ignominy, out of their dominions. Unable to bear either limited or absolute government, the impatient and capricious multitude wish for things which have always been found incompatible: the secrecy, promptitude, and efficacy, of a despotic government, with all the freedom and mildness of a legal and limited constitution. It is remarkable, that when the Doge was, even in a small degree, popular, he seldom found any difficulty in getting his son elected his associate in the sovereign authority; and when that was not the case, there are many instances of the son being chosen directly on the death of his father. Yet, about the middle of the tenth century, the son of the Doge, Peter Candiano, took arms, and rebelled against his father. Being soon after defeated, and brought in chains to Venice, he was condemned to banishment, and declared incapable of being ever elected Doge. It appears, however, that this worthless person was a great favourite of the people; for no sooner was his father dead, than he was chosen to succeed him, and conducted, in great pomp, from Ravenna, the place of his exile, to Venice. The Venetians were severely punished for this instance of levity. Their new Doge shewed himself as tyrannical in the character of a sovereign, as he had been undutiful in that of a son. He became a monster of pride and cruelty. The people began to murmur, and he became susceptible of that terror which usually accompanies tyrants. He established a body of lifeguards, to defend his person, and lodged them within the palace. This innovation filled the people with indignation, and awakened all their fury. They attack the palace, are repulsed by the guards, and set fire to the contiguous houses. The wretched Doge, in danger of being consumed by the flames, appears at the gate of the palace, with his infant son in his arms, imploring the compassion of the multitude: they, inexorable as demons, tear in pieces both father and child. At such an instance of savage fury, the human affections revolt from the oppressed people, and take part with their oppressor. We almost wish he had lived, that he might have swept from the earth a set of wretches more barbarous than himself. Having spent their fury in the destruction of the tyrant, they leave the tyranny as before. No measures are taken to limit the power of the Doge. For some time after this, a spirit of superstition seemed to lay hold of those who filled that office, as if they had intended to expiate the pride of the late tyrant by their own humility. His three immediate successors, after each of them had reigned a few years with applause, abandoned their dignity, shut themselves up in convents, and passed the latter years of their lives as Monks. Whatever contempt those pious Doges displayed for worldly things, their example made little impression on their subjects, who, about this time, began to monopolize the trade and riches of Europe. And some years after, when all Christendom was seized with the religious phrenzy of recovering the Holy Land, the Venetians kept so perfectly free from the general infection, that they did not scruple to supply the Saracens with arms and ammunition, in spite of the edicts of their Doges, and the remonstrances of the Pope, and other pious princes. Those commercial casuists declared, that religion is one thing, and trade another; that, as children of the church, they were willing to believe all that their mother required; but, as merchants, they must carry their goods to the best market. In my next, I shall proceed with my review of the Venetian government. LETTER IX. Venice. The minds of the Venetians were not so totally engrossed by commercial ideas, as to make them neglect other means of aggrandizing their state. All Istria submitted itself to their government: many of the free towns of Dalmatia, harassed by the Narentines, a nation of robbers and pirates on that coast, did the same. Those towns which refused, were reduced to obedience, by Peter Urseolo, the Doge of Venice, who had been sent with a fleet against them, in the year 1000. He carried his arms also into the country of the Narentines, and destroyed many of their towns. On his return it was determined, in a general assembly of the people, that the conquered towns and provinces should be governed by magistrates sent from Venice. Those magistrates called Podestas, were appointed by the Doge. The inhabitants of those newacquired towns were not admitted to the privileges of citizens of Venice, nor allowed to vote at the general assembly: the same rule was observed with regard to the inhabitants of all the dominions afterwards acquired by the republic. It will readily occur, that this accession of dominions to the state greatly augmented the influence and power of the chief magistrate: this, and the practice of associating the son of the Doge with his father, raised jealousies among the people, and a law was made, abolishing such associations for the future. In the year 1173, after the assassination of the Doge Michieli, a far more important alteration took place in the government. At this time there was no other tribunal at Venice than that of forty judges. This court had been established many years before: it took cognizance of all causes, civil as well as criminal, and was called the council of forty. This body of men, in the midst of the disorder and confusion which followed the murder of the Doge, formed a plan of newmodelling the government. Hitherto the people had retained great privileges. They had votes in the assemblies; and, although the descendants of the ancient tribunes, and of the Doges, formed a kind of nobility, yet they had no legal privileges, or exclusive jurisdiction; nothing to distinguish them from their fellowcitizens, but what their riches, or the spontaneous respect paid to the antiquity of their families, gave them. Any citizen, as well as they, might be elected to a public office. To acquire the honours of the state, it was absolutely necessary for the greatest and proudest Venetian, to cultivate the goodwill of the multitude, whose voice alone could raise him to the rank of Doge, and whose rage had thrown so many from that envied situation. The inconveniences, the discord, and confusion, of such a mixed multitude, had been long felt, but nobody had hitherto had the boldness to strike at this established right of the people. The city was divided into six parts, called Sestiers. The council of forty procured it to be established, in the first place, that each of those sestiers should annually name two electors; that those twelve electors should have the right of choosing, from the whole body of the people, four hundred and seventy counsellors, who should be called the Grand Council, and who should have the same power, in all respects, which the general assembly of the people formerly enjoyed. It was pretended, that this regulation was contrived merely to prevent confusion, and to establish regularity in the great national assembly; that the peoples right of election remained as before, and, by changing the counsellors yearly, those who were not elected one year might retain hopes of being chosen the next. The people did not perceive that this law would be fatal to their importance: it proved, however, the foundation of the aristocracy, which was soon after established, and still subsists. The forty judges next proposed another regulation, still more delicate and important. That, to prevent the tumults and disorders which were expected at the impending election of a Doge, they should (for that time only) name eleven commissioners, from those of the highest reputation for judgment and integrity in the state; that the choice of a Doge should be left to those commissioners, nine suffrages being indispensably requisite to make the election valid. This evidently pointed at the exclusion of the people from any concern whatever in the creation of the chief magistrate, and certainly was the object in view; yet, as it was proposed only as a temporary expedient, to prevent disorders, when mens minds were irritated against each other, and factions ran high, the regulation was agreed to. Having, with equal dexterity and success, fixed those restraints on the power of the people, the council of forty turned their attention, in the next place, towards limiting the authority of the Doge. This was considered as too exorbitant, even for good men; and, in the hands of wicked men, had always been perverted to the purposes of tyranny, and for which no remedy had hitherto been found, but what was almost as bad as the evils themselves; revolt on the part of the people, and all the horrors and excesses with which such an expedient is usually accompanied. The tribunal of forty therefore proposed, that the grand council should annually appoint six persons, one from each division of the city, who should form the privy council of the Doge, and, without their approbation, none of his orders should be valid; so that, instead of appointing his own privycouncil, which had been the custom hitherto, the authority of the chief magistrate would, for the future, in a great measure, depend on six men, who, themselves, depended on the grand council. To be constantly surrounded by such a set of counsellors, instead of creatures of his own, however reasonable it may seem in the eyes of the impartial, would have been considered by one in possession of the dignity of Doge, as a most intolerable innovation, and probably would have been opposed by all his influence; but there was no Doge existing when the proposal was made, and consequently it passed into a law with universal approbation. Lastly, it was proposed to form a senate, consisting of sixty members, which were to be elected, annually, out of the grand council. This assembly was in the room of that which the Doge formerly had the power of convocating, on extraordinary occasions, by sending messages, praying certain citizens to come, and assist him with their advice. The members of the new senate, more fixed and more independent than those of the old, are still called the Pregadi. This also was agreed to without opposition; and immediately after the funeral of the late Doge, all those regulations took place. They began by choosing the grand council of four hundred and seventy, then the senate of sixty, then the six counsellors, and lastly, the eleven electors. These last were publicly sworn, that in the election now entrusted to them, rejecting every motive of private interest, they should give their voices for that person, whose elevation to the dignity of Doge they believed, in their consciences, would prove most for the advantage of the State. After this, they retired to a chamber of the palace, and Orio Malipier, one of the eleven, had the votes of his ten colleagues; but he, with a modesty which seems to have been unaffected, declined the office, and used all his influence with the electors to make choice of Sebastian Ziani, a man distinguished in the republic on account of his talents, his wealth, and his virtues; assuring them that, in the present emergency, he was a more proper person than himself for the office. Such was their opinion of Malipiers judgment, that his colleagues adopted his opinion, and Ziani was unanimously elected. As this mode of election was quite new, and as there was reason to imagine that the bulk of the people, on reflection, would not greatly approve of it, and that the new Doge would not be received with the usual acclamations, Ziani took care that great quantities of money should be thrown among the multitude, when he was first presented to them. No Doge was ever received with louder acclamations. During the reign of Ziani, the singular ceremony of espousing the sea was first instituted. Pope Alexander the Third, to avoid the resentment of the emperor Frederic Barbarossa, had taken refuge at Venice, and was protected by that State. The emperor sent a powerful fleet against it, under the command of his son Otho. Ziani met him with the fleet of Venice. A very obstinate engagement ensued, in which the Venetians were victorious. The Doge returned in triumph, with thirty of the enemys vessels, in one of which was their commander Otho. All the inhabitants of Venice rushed to the sea shore, to meet their victorious Doge: the Pope himself came, attended by the senate and clergy. After embracing Ziani, his Holiness presented him with a ring, saying, with a loud voice, Take this ring; use it as a chain to retain the sea, henceforth, in subjection to the Venetian empire; espouse the sea with this ring, and let the marriage be solemnized annually, by you and your successors, to the end of time, that the latest posterity may know that Venice has acquired the empire of the waves, and that the sea is subjected to you, as a wife is to her husband. As this speech came from the head of the church, people were not surprised to find it a little mysterious; and the multitude, without considering whether it contained much reason or common sense, received it with the greatest applause. The marriage has been regularly celebrated every year since that time. After the death of Ziani, if the terms which had been agreed upon previous to the election, had been literally adhered to, the grand council of four hundred and seventy would have proceeded to choose a Doge, simply by the plurality of votes; but, for some reason which is not now known, that method was waved, and the following adopted. Four persons were chosen by the grand council, each of whom had the power of naming ten; and the whole forty had the appointing of the Doge. Their choice fell upon the same Orio Malipier, who had declined the dignity in favour of his friend Ziani. Under the administration of Malipier, two new forms of magistracy were created; the first was that of the Avogadors. Their duty is to take care that the laws in being shall be punctually executed; and while it is the business of other magistrates to proceed against the transgressors of the laws, it is theirs to bring a process against those magistrates who neglect to put them in execution. They decide also on the nature of accusations, and determine before which of the courts every cause shall be brought, not leaving it in the power of either of the parties to carry a cause to a high court, which is competent to be tried by one less expensive; and no resolution of the grand council, or senate, is valid, unless, at least, one of the three Avogadors be present during the deliberation. It is also the duty of the Avogadors to keep the originals of all the decisions and regulations of the grand council and senate, and to order them, and all other laws, to be read over, whenever they think proper, by way of refreshing the memories of the senators. If the senators are obliged to attend during those lectures, this is a very formidable power indeed. I am acquainted with senators in another country, who would sooner give their judges the power of putting them to death at once, in a less lingering manner. The second class of magistrates, created at this time, was that called Judges al Forestieri; there are also three of them. It is their duty to decide, in all causes between citizens and strangers, and in all disputes which strangers have with each other. This institution was peculiarly expedient, at a time when the resort from all countries to Venice was very great, both on account of commerce, and of the Crusades. In the year 1192, after a very able administration, Malipier, who was of a very philosophical turn of mind, abdicated the office of Doge, and Henry Dandolo was elected in his place. I am a great deal too much fatigued with the preceding narrative, to accompany one of his active and enterprising genius at present; and I have good reason to suspect, that you also have been, for some time past, inclined to repose. LETTER X. Venice. Henry Dandolo had, in his early years, passed, with general approbation, through many of the subordinate offices of government; and had, a few years before he was elected to the dignity of Doge, been Ambassador at the court of Manuel, the Greek emperor at Constantinople. There, on account of his inflexible integrity, and his refusing to enter into the views of Manuel, which he thought contrary to the interest of his country, his eyes were almost entirely put out, by order of that tyrant. Notwithstanding this impediment, and his great age, being above eighty, he was now elected to the office of Doge. At this time, some of the most powerful princes and nobles of France and Flanders, instigated by the zeal of Innocent the Third, and still more by their own pious fervour, resolved, in a fourth crusade, to attempt the recovery of the Holy Land, and the sepulchre of Christ, from the hands of Infidels; and being, by the fate of others, taught the difficulties and dangers of transporting armies by land, they resolved to take their passage from Europe to Asia by sea. On this occasion they applied to the Venetian State, who not only agreed to furnish ships for the transportation of the army, but also to join, with an armed fleet, as principals in the expedition. The French army arrived soon after in the Venetian State; but so ill had they calculated, that, when every thing was ready for the embarkation, part of the sum which they had agreed to pay for the transporting their troops, was deficient. This occasioned disputes between the French leaders and the State, which the Doge put an end to, by proposing, that they should pay in military services what they could not furnish in money. This was accepted, and the first exploits of the Crusade army were, the reduction of the town of Zara, and other places in Dalmatia, which had revolted from the Venetians. It had been previously agreed, that, after this service, the army should embark immediately for Egypt; but Dandolo, who had another project more at heart, represented that the season was too far advanced, and found means to persuade the French army to winter in Dalmatia. During this interval, Dandolo, availing himself of some favourable circumstances, had the dexterity to determine the French Crusaders, in spite of the interdiction of the Pope, to join with the Venetian forces, and to carry their arms against the emperor of Constantinople; an expedition which, Dandolo asserted, would facilitate their original plan against the Holy Land, and which, he was convinced, would be attended with far greater advantages to both parties. The crown of Constantinople was never surrounded with greater dangers, nor has it ever known more sudden revolutions, than at this period. Manuel, who had treated Dandolo, while ambassador, with so much barbarity, had been precipitated from the throne. His immediate successor had, a short time after, experienced the same fate. Betrayed by his own brother, his eyes had been put out, and, in that deplorable condition, he was kept close prisoner by the usurper. The son of this unfortunate man had escaped from Constantinople, and had arrived at Venice, to implore the protection of that State: the compassion which his misfortune naturally excited, had considerable effect in promoting the Doges favourite scheme of leading the French and Venetian forces against Constantinople. The indefatigable Dandolo went, in person, at the head of his countrymen. The united army beat the troops of the usurper in repeated battles, obliged him to fly from Constantinople, placed his brother on the throne, and restored to him his son Alexis, who had been obliged to take refuge at Venice, from the cruelty of his uncle, and had accompanied Dandolo in this successful enterprise. A misunderstanding soon after ensued between the united armies and Alexis, now associated with his father on the throne of Constantinople. The Greeks murmured at the favour which their emperor shewed to those foreigners, and thought his liberality to them inconsistent with his duty to his own subjects. The Crusaders, on the other hand, imagined, that all the wealth of his empire was hardly sufficient to repay the obligations he owed to them. The young prince, desirous to be just to the one, and grateful to the other, lost the confidence of both; and, while he strove to conciliate the minds of two sets of men, whose views and interests were opposite, he was betrayed by Murtsuphlo, a Greek, who had gained his confidence, and whom he had raised to the highest dignities of the empire. This traitor insinuated to the Greeks, that Alexis had agreed to deliver up Constantinople to be pillaged, that he might satisfy the avarice and rapacity of those strangers who had restored his family to the throne. The people fly to arms, the palace is invested, Alexis and his father are put to death, and Murtsuphlo is declared emperor. These transactions, though ascertained by the authenticity of history, seem as rapid as the revolutions of a theatrical representation. The chiefs of the united army, struck with horror and indignation, assemble in council. Dandolo, always decisive in the moment of danger, gives it as his opinion, that they should immediately declare war against the usurper, and make themselves masters of the empire. This opinion prevails, and the conquest of the Greek empire is resolved upon. After several bloody battles, and various assaults, the united armies of France and Venice enter victorious into Constantinople, and divide the spoils of that wealthy city. The Doge, never so much blinded with success as to lose sight of the true interest of his country, did not think of procuring for the republic, large dominions on the continent. The Venetians had, for their share, the islands of the Archipelago, several ports on the coast of the Hellespont, the Morea, and the entire island of Candia. This was a judicious partition for Venice, the augmentation of whose strength depended on commerce, navigation, and the empire of the sea. Though the star of Dandolo rose in obscurity, and shone with no extraordinary lustre at its meridian height, yet nothing ever surpassed the brilliancy of its setting rays. This extraordinary man died at Constantinople, oppressed with age, but while the laurels, which adorned his hoary head, were in youthful verdure. The annals of mankind present nothing more worthy of our admiration. A man, above the age of eighty, and almost entirely deprived of his sight, despising the repose necessary for age, and the secure honours which attended him at home; engaging in a hazardous enterprise, against a distant and powerful enemy; supporting the fatigues of a military life with the spirit of youth, and the perseverance of a veteran, in a superstitious age; and, whilst he led an army of religious enthusiasts, braving, at once, the indignation of the Pope, the prejudices of bigots, and all the dangers of war; displaying the ardour of a conqueror, the judgment of a statesman, and the disinterested spirit of a patriot; preparing distant events, improving accidental circumstances, managing the most impetuous characters; and, with admirable address, making all subservient to the vast plan he had conceived, for the aggrandizing his native country. Yet this man passed his youth, manhood, and great part of his old age, unknown. Had he died at seventy, his name would have been swept, with the common rubbish of courts and capitals, into the gulph of oblivion. So necessary are occasions, and situations, for bringing into light the concealed vigour of the greatest characters; and so true it is, that while we see, at the head of kingdoms, men of the most vulgar abilities, the periods of whose existence serve only as dates to history, many whose talents and virtues would have swelled her brightest pages have died unnoted, from the obscurity of their situations, or the languor and stupidity of the ages in which they lived. But the romantic story of Henry Dandolo has seduced me from my original purpose, which was, to give you an idea of the rise and progress of the Venetian aristocracy, and which I shall resume in my next. LETTER XI. Venice. The senate of Venice, ever jealous of their civil liberty, while they rejoiced at the vast acquisitions lately made by their fleet and army, perceived that those new conquests might tend to the ruin of the constitution, by augmenting the power and influence of the first magistrate. In the year 1206, immediately after they were informed of the death of Dandolo, they created six new magistrates, called Correctors; and this institution has been renewed at every interregnum which has happened since. The duty of those Correctors is, to examine into all abuses which may have taken place during the reign of the preceding Doge, and report them to the senate, that they may be remedied, and prevented for the future, by wholesome laws, before the election of another Doge. At the same time it was ordained, that the State should be indemnified out of the fortune of the deceased magistrate, from any detriment it had sustained by his maladministration, of which the senate were to be the judges. This law was certainly well calculated to make the Doge very circumspect in his conduct, and has been the origin of all the future restraints which have been laid on that very unenviable office. Men accustomed to the calm and secure enjoyments of private life, are apt to imagine, that no mortal would be fond of any office on such conditions; but the senate of Venice, from more extensive views of human nature, knew that there always was a sufficient number of men, eager to grasp the sceptre of ambition, in defiance of all the thorns with which it could be surrounded. It was not the intention of the Venetian senate to throw the smallest stain on the character of their late patriotic Doge; nevertheless they thought the interregnum after his death, the most favourable opportunity of passing this law; because, when the Inquisition had taken place after his glorious reign, no Doge could expect that it would ever afterwards be dispensed with. The Correctors having been chosen, and the inquisition made, Peter Ziani was elected Doge. In his reign a court for civil causes, denominated the Tribunal of Forty, was created. Its name sufficiently explains the intention of establishing this court, to which there is an appeal from the decisions of all inferior magistrates in civil causes tried within the city. It is to be distinguished from the court of Forty, formerly mentioned, whose jurisdiction was now confined to criminal causes: it afterwards got the name of old civil council of Forty, to distinguish it from a third court, consisting also of forty members, which was established at a subsequent period, to decide, by appeal, in all civil causes, from the judgments of the inferior courts without the city of Venice. Towards the end of his life, about the year 1228, Ziani abdicated his office. At the election of his successor, the suffrages were equally divided, between Rainier Dandolo, and James Theipolo. This prolonged the interregnum for two months; as often as they were balloted, during that time, each of them had twenty balls. The senate, at last, ordained them to draw lots, which decided in favour of Theipolo. During his administration, the Venetian code was, in some degree, reformed and abridged. One of the greatest inconveniences of freedom, is the number of laws necessary to protect the life and property of each citizen; the natural consequences of which are, a multitude of lawyers, with all the suits and vexations which they create; les peines, les dspenses, les longueurs, les dangers mmes de la justice, says Montesquieu, sont le prix que chaque citoyen donne pour sa libert. The more freedom remains in a State, of the higher importance will the life and property of each citizen be considered. A despotic government counts the life of a citizen as of no importance at all. The Doge Theipolo, who had himself been a lawyer, as many of the Venetian nobles at that time were, bestowed infinite labour in arranging and illuminating the vast chaos of laws and regulations in which the jurisprudence of a republic, so jealous of her liberty, had been involved. After a long reign, he abdicated the government; and, to prevent the inconveniency which had happened at his election, the number of electors, by a new decree of the senate, was augmented to fortyone. In the reign of his successor, Marino Marsini, two judges, called Criminal Judges of the Night, were appointed. Their function is to judge of what are called nocturnal crimes, under which denomination are reckoned robberies, wilful fire, rapes, and bigamy. We find also, that Jews lying with Christian women, is enumerated among nocturnal crimes; though, by an unjustifiable partiality, a Christian man lying with a Jewish woman, whether by night or day, is not mentioned as any crime at all. A few years after, in the reign of the Doge Rainier Zeno, four more judges were added to this tribunal; and, during the interregnum which took place at his death, in the year 1268, a new form of electing the Doge was fixed, which, though somewhat complicated, has been observed ever since. All the members of the grand council, who are past thirty years of age, being assembled in the hall of the palace, as many balls are put into an urn as there are members present; thirty of these balls are gilt, and the rest white. Each counsellor draws one; and those who get the gilt balls, go into another room, where there is an urn, containing thirty balls, nine of which are gilt. The thirty members draw again; and those who, by a second piece of good fortune, get the gilt balls, are the first electors, and have a right to choose forty, among whom they comprehend themselves. Those forty, by balloting in the same manner as in the former instances, are reduced to twelve second electors, who choose twentyfive, the first of the twelve naming three, and the remaining eleven two, apiece. All those being assembled in a chamber apart, each of them draws a ball from an urn, containing twentyfive balls, among which are nine gilt. This reduces them to nine third electors, each of whom chooses five, making in all fortyfive; who, as in the preceding instances, are reduced by ballot, to eleven fourth electors, and they have the nomination of fortyone, who are the direct electors of the Doge. Being shut up by themselves, they begin by choosing three chiefs, and two secretaries; each elector, being then called, throws a little billet into an urn, which stands on a table before the chiefs. On this billet is inscribed the persons name whom the elector wishes to be Doge. The secretaries then, in the presence of the chiefs, and of the whole assembly, open the billets. Among all the fortyone there are, generally, but a very few different names, as the election, for the most part, balances between two or three candidates. Their names, whatever is the number, are put into another urn, and drawn out one after another. As soon as a name is extracted, the Secretary reads it, and, if the person to whom it belongs is present, he immediately retires. One of the chiefs then demands, with a loud voice, whether any crime can be laid to this persons charge, or any objection made to his being raised to the sovereign dignity? If any objection is made, the accused is called in, and heard in his own defence; after which the electors proceed to give their decision, by throwing a ball into one of two boxes, one of which is for the Ayes, the other for the Noes. The Secretaries then count the balls, and if there are twentyfive in the first, the election is finished; if not, another name is read, and the same inquisition made as before, till there are twentyfive approving balls. This form, wherein judgment and chance are so perfectly blended, precludes every attempt to corrupt the electors, and all cabals for the Ducal dignity; for who could dream, by any labour or contrivance, of gaining an election, the mode of whose procedure equally baffles the address of a politician and a juggler? Lawrence Theipolo was the first Doge chosen according to this mode. In his reign the office of Grand Chancellor was created. Hitherto the public acts were signed by certain persons chosen by the Doge himself, and called Chancellors; but the Grand Council, which we find always solicitous to limit the power of the Doge, thought that method improper; and now proposed, that a Chancellor should be appointed by themselves, with rights and privileges entirely independent of the Doge. At the same time, as the people had shewn symptoms of discontent, on account of the great offices being all in the distinguished families, it was thought expedient to ordain, that the Chancellor should always be taken from among the Secretaries of the senate, who were citizens. Afterwards, when the council of ten came to be established, it was ordained, that the Chancellor might be chosen either from the Secretaries of that court, or from those of the senate. The Grand Chancellor of Venice is an officer of great dignity and importance; he has the keeping of the great seal of the Commonwealth, and is privy to all the secrets of the State; he is considered as the head of the order of citizens, and his office is the most lucrative in the republic; yet, though he must be present at all the councils, he has no deliberative voice. In perusing the annals of this republic, we continually meet with proofs of the restless jealousy of this government; even the private conomy of families sometimes created suspicion, however blameless the public conduct of the matter might be. The present Doge had married a foreign lady; his two sons followed his example; one of their wives was a princess. This gave umbrage to the senate; they thought that, by such means, the nobles might acquire an interest, and connexions, in other countries, inconsistent with their duty as citizens of Venice; and therefore, in the interregnum which followed the death of Theipolo, a law was proposed by the Correctors, and immediately passed, by which all future Doges, and their sons, were interdicted from marriage with foreigners, under the pain of being excluded from the office of Doge. Though the people had been gradually, as we have seen, deprived of their original right of electing the chief magistrate; yet, on the elections which succeeded the establishment of the new mode, the Doge had always been presented to the multitude assembled in St. Marks Place, as if requesting their approbation; and the people, flattered with this small degree of attention, had never failed to announce their satisfaction by repeated shouts: but the senate seem to have been afraid of leaving them even this empty shadow of their ancient power; for they ordained, that, instead of presenting the Doge to the multitude, to receive their acclamations, as formerly, a Syndic, for the future, should, in the name of the people, congratulate the new Doge on his election. On this occasion, the senate do not seem to have acted with their usual discernment. Show often affects the minds of men more than substance, as appeared in the present instance; for the Venetian populace displayed more resentment on being deprived of this noisy piece of form, than when the substantial right had been taken from them. After the death of the Doge John Dandolo, before a new election could take place in the usual forms, a prodigious multitude assembled in St. Marks Place, and, with loud acclamations, proclaimed James Theipolo; declaring, that this was more binding than any other mode of election, and that he was Doge to all intents and purposes. While the senate remained in fearful suspense for the consequences of an event so alarming and unlookedfor, they were informed, that Theipolo had withdrawn himself from the city, with a determination to remain concealed, till he heard how the senate and people would settle the dispute. The people, having no person of weight to conduct or head them, renounced, with their usual fickleness, a project which they had begun with their usual intrepidity. The Grand Council, freed from alarm, proceeded to a regular election, and chose Peter Gradonico, a man of enterprise, firmness, and address, in whose reign we shall see the dying embers of democracy perfectly extinguished. LETTER XII. Venice. Gradonico, from the moment he was in possession of the office of Doge, formed a scheme of depriving the people of all their remaining power. An aversion to popular government, and resentment of some signs of personal dislike, which the populace had shewn at his election, seem to have been his only motives; for, while he completely annihilated the ancient rights of the people, he shewed no inclination to augment the power of his own office. Although the people had experienced many mortifying deviations from the old constitution, yet, as the Grand Council was chosen annually, by electors of their own nomination, they flattered themselves that they still retained an important share in the government. It was this last hold of their declining freedom which Gradonico meditated to remove, for ever, from their hands. Such a project was of a nature to have intimidated a man of less courage; but his natural intrepidity, animated by resentment, made him overlook all dangers and difficulties. He began (as if by way of experiment) with some alterations respecting the manner of choosing the Grand Council; these, however, occasioned murmurs; and it was feared, that dangerous tumults would arise at the next election of that court. But, superior to fear, Gradonico inspired others with courage; and, before the period of the election arrived, he struck the decisive blow. A law was published in the year 1297, by which it was ordained, that those who actually belonged to the Grand Council, should continue members of it for life; and that the same right should descend to their posterity, without any form of election whatever. This was at once forming a body of hereditary legislative nobility, and establishing a complete aristocracy, upon the ruins of the ancient popular government. This measure struck all the citizens, who were not then of the Grand Council, with concern and astonishment; but, in a particular manner, those of ancient and noble families; for although, as has been already observed, there was, strictly speaking, no nobility with exclusive privileges before this law, yet there were in Venice, as there must be in the most democratical republics, certain families considered as more honourable than others, many of whom found themselves, by this law, thrown into a rank inferior to that of the least considerable person who happened, at this important period, to be a member of the Grand Council. To conciliate the minds of such dangerous malcontents, exceptions were made in their favour, and some of the most powerful were immediately received into the Grand Council; and to others it was promised that they should, at some future period, be admitted. By such hopes, artfully insinuated, and by the great influence of the members who actually composed the Grand Council, all immediate insurrections were prevented; and foreign wars, and objects of commerce, soon turned the peoples attention from this mortifying change in the nature of the government. A strong resentment of those innovations, however, festered in the breasts of some individuals, who, a few years after, under the direction of one Marino Bocconi, formed a design to assassinate Gradonico, and massacre all the Grand Council, without distinction. This plot was discovered, and the chiefs, after confessing their crimes, were executed between the pillars. The conspiracy of Bocconi was confined to malcontents of the rank of citizens; but one of a more dangerous nature, and which originated among the nobles themselves, was formed in the year 1309. This combination was made up of some of the most distinguished of those who were not of the Grand Council when the reform took place, and who had not been admitted afterwards, according to their expectations; and of some others of very ancient families, who could not bear to see so many citizens raised to a level with themselves, and who, besides, were piqued at what they called the Pride of Gradonico. These men chose for their leader, the son of James Theipolo, who had been proclaimed Doge by the populace. Their object was, to dispossess Gradonico, and restore the ancient constitution; they were soon joined by a great many of inferior rank, within the city, and they engaged considerable numbers of their friends and dependents from Padua, and the adjacent country, to come to Venice, and assist them, at the time appointed for the insurrection. Considering the numbers that were privy to this undertaking, it is astonishing that it was not discovered till the night preceding that on which it was to have taken place. The uncommon concourse of strangers created the first suspicion, which was confirmed by the confession of some who were acquainted with the design. The Doge immediately summoned the council, and sent expresses to the governors of the neighbouring towns and forts, with orders for them to hasten with their forces to Venice. The conspirators were not disconcerted; they assembled, and attacked the Doge and his friends, who were collected in a body around the palace. The Place of St. Mark was the scene of this tumultuous battle, which lasted many hours, but was attended with more noise and terror among the inhabitants, than bloodshed to the combatants. Some of the military governors arriving with troops, the contest ended in the rout of the conspirators. A few nobles had been killed in the engagement; a greater number were executed by order of the senate. Theipolo, who had fled, was declared infamous, and an enemy to his country; his goods and fortune were confiscated, and his house razed to the ground. After these executions, it was thought expedient, to receive into the Grand Council, several of the most distinguished families of citizens. Those two conspiracies having immediately followed one another, spread an universal diffidence and dread over the city, and gave rise to the court called the Council of Ten, which was erected about this time, merely as a temporary Tribunal, to examine into the causes, punish the accomplices, and destroy the seeds of the late conspiracy; but which, in the sequel, became permanent. I shall wave farther mention of this court, till we come to the period when the State Inquisitors were established; but it is proper to mention, that the Ecclesiastical Court of Inquisition was also erected at Venice, in the reign of the Doge Gradonico. The Popes had long endeavoured to introduce this court into every country in Europe; they succeeded too well in many; but though it was not entirely rejected by the State of Venice, yet it was accepted under such restrictions as have prevented the dismal cruelties which accompany it in other countries. This republic seems, at all times, to have a strong impression of the ambitious and encroaching spirit of the court of Rome; and has, on all occasions, shewn the greatest unwillingness to entrust power in the hands of ecclesiastics. Of this, the Venetians gave an undoubted proof at present; for while they established a new civil Court of Inquisition, with the most unlimited powers, they would not receive the ecclesiastical inquisitions, except on conditions to which it had not been subjected in any other country. The court of Rome never displayed more address than in its attempts to elude those limitations, and to prevail on the senate to admit the inquisition at Venice, on the same footing as it had been received elsewhere; but the senate was as firm as the Pope was artful, and the Court of Inquisition was at last established, under the following conditions: That three commissioners from the Senate should attend the deliberations of that court, none of whose decrees could be executed without the approbation of the commissioners. Those commissioners were to take no oath of fidelity, or engagement of any kind, to the Inquisition; but were bound by oath to conceal nothing from the senate which should pass in the Holy Office. That heresy should be the only crime cognisable by the Inquisition; and, in case of the conviction and condemnation of any criminal, his goods and money should not belong to the court, but to his natural heirs. That Jews and Greeks should be indulged in the exercise of their religion, without being disturbed by this court. The commissioners were to prevent the registration of any statute made at Rome; or any where out of the Venetian State. The Inquisitors were not permitted to condemn books as heretical, without the concurrence of the Senate; nor were they allowed to judge any to be so, but those already condemned by the edict of Clement VIII. Such were the restrictions under which the Inquisition was established at Venice; and nothing can more clearly prove their efficacy, than a comparison of their numbers, who have suffered for heresy here, with those who have been condemned to death by that court in every other place where it was established. An instance is recorded of a man, named Narino, being condemned to a public punishment, for having composed a book in defence of the opinions of John Huss. For this (the greatest of all crimes in the sight of Inquisitors) his sentence was, that he should be exposed publicly on a scaffold, dressed in a gown, with flames and devils painted on it. The moderation of the civil magistrate appears in this sentence. Without his interposition, the flames which surrounded the prisoner would, in all probability, not have been painted. This, which is mentioned in the History of Venice as an instance of severity, happened at a time, when, in Spain and Portugal, many wretches were burnt, by order of the Inquisition, for smaller offences. In 1354, during the interregnum after the death of Andrew Dandolo, it was proposed, by the Correctors of Abuses, that, for the future, the three chiefs of the Criminal Council of Forty should be members of the College; and this passed into a law. It may be necessary to mention, that the College, otherwise called the Seigniory, is the supreme cabinet council of the State. This court was originally composed of the Doge and six counsellors only; but to these, at different periods, were added; first, six of the Grand Council, chosen by the Senate; they were called Savii, or Sages, from their supposed wisdom; and afterwards, five Savii, of the Terra Firma, whose more immediate duty is to superintend the business of the towns and provinces belonging to the republic, on the continent of Europe, particularly what regards the troops. At one time there were also five Savii for maritime affairs, but they had little business after the Venetian navy became inconsiderable; and now, in the room of them, five young noblemen are chosen by the Senate every six months, who attend the meetings of the Seigniory, without having a vote, though they give their opinions when asked. This is by way of instructing, and rendering them fit for the affairs of State. They are called Sages of the Orders, and are chosen every six months. To those were added, the three chiefs of the Criminal Court of Forty; the court then consisting, in all, of twentysix members. The College is, at once, the cabinet council, and the representative of the republic. This court gives audience, and delivers answers, in the name of the republic, to foreign Ambassadors, to the deputies of towns and provinces, and to the generals of the army; it also receives all requests and memorials on State affairs, summons the Senate at pleasure, and arranges the business to be discussed in that assembly. In the Venetian government, great care is taken to balance the power of one court by that of another, and to make them reciprocal checks on each other. It was probably from a jealousy of the power of the College, that three chiefs of the Criminal Court of Forty were now added to it. LETTER XIII. Venice. The history of no nation presents a greater variety of singular events than that of Venice. We have seen a conspiracy against this State, originating among the citizens, and carried on by people of that rank only. We saw another, soon after, which took its origin among the body of the nobles; but the year 1355 presents us with one of a still more extraordinary nature, begun, and carried on, by the Doge himself. If ambition, or the augmentation of his own power, had been the object, it would not have been so surprising; but his motive to the conspiracy was as small as the intention was dreadful. Marino Falliero, Doge of Venice, was, at this time, eighty years of age; a time of life when the violence of the passions is generally pretty much abated. He had, even then, however, given a strong instance of the rashness of his disposition, by marrying a very young woman. This lady imagined she had been affronted by a young Venetian nobleman at a public ball, and she complained bitterly of the insult to her husband. The old Doge, who had all the desire imaginable to please his wife, determined, in this matter at least, to give her ample satisfaction. The delinquent was brought before the Judges, and the crime was exaggerated with all the eloquence that money could purchase; but they viewed the affair with unprejudiced eyes, and pronounced a sentence no more than adequate to the crime. The Doge was filled with the most extravagant rage, and, finding that the body of the nobles took no share in his wrath, he entered into a conspiracy with the Admiral of the Arsenal, and some others, who were discontented with the government on other accounts, and projected a method of vindicating his wifes honour, which seems rather violent for the occasion. It was resolved by those desperadoes, to massacre the whole Grand Council. Such a scene of bloodshed, on account of one woman, has not been imagined since the Trojan war. This plot was conducted with more secrecy than could have been expected, from a man who seems to have been deprived of reason, as well as humanity. Every thing was prepared; and the day, previous to that which was fixed for the execution, had arrived, without any person, but those concerned in the conspiracy, having the least knowledge of the horrid design. It was discovered in the same manner in which that against the King and Parliament of England, was brought to light in the time of James the First. Bertrand Bergamese, one of the conspirators, being desirous to save Nicolas Lioni, a noble Venetian, from the general massacre, called on him, and earnestly admonished him, on no account, to go out of his house the following day; for, if he did, he would certainly lose his life. Lioni pressed him to give some reason for this extraordinary advice; which the other obstinately refusing, Lioni ordered him to be seized, and confined, and, sending for some of his friends of the Senate, by means of promises and threats, they at length prevailed on the prisoner to discover the whole of this horrid mystery. They send for the Avogadors, the Council of Ten, and other high officers, by whom the prisoner was examined; after which, orders were given for seizing the principal conspirators in their houses, and for summoning those of the nobility and citizens, on whose fidelity the Council could rely. These measures could not be taken so secretly as not to alarm many, who found means to make their escape. A considerable number were arrested, among whom were two chiefs of the conspiracy under the Doge. They being put to the question, confessed the whole. It appeared, that only a select body of the principal men had been privy to the real design; great numbers had been desired to be prepared with arms, at a particular hour, when they would be employed in attacking certain enemies of the State, which were not named; they were desired to keep those orders a perfect secret, and were told, that upon their fidelity and secrecy their future fortunes depended. Those men did not know of each other, and had no suspicion that it was not a lawful enterprise for which they were thus engaged; they were therefore set at liberty; but all the chiefs of the plot gave the fullest evidence against the Doge. It was proved, that the whole scheme had been formed by his direction, and supported by his influence. After the principal conspirators were tried, and executed, the Council of Ten next proceeded to the trial of the Doge himself. They desired that twenty senators, of the highest reputation, might assist upon this solemn occasion; and that two relations of the Fallier family, one of whom was a member of the Council of Ten, and the other an Avogador, might withdraw from the court. The Doge, who hitherto had remained under a guard in his own apartments in the palace, was now brought before this Tribunal of his own subjects. He was dressed in the robes of his office. It is thought he intended to have denied the charge, and attempted a defence; but when he perceived the number and nature of the proofs against him, overwhelmed by their force, he acknowledged his guilt, with many fruitless and abject intreaties for mercy. That a man, of eighty years of age, should lose all firmness on such an occasion, is not marvellous; that he should have been incited, by a trifling offence, to such an inhuman, and such a deliberate plan of wickedness, is without example. He was sentenced to lose his head. The sentence was executed in the place where the Doges are usually crowned. In the Great Chamber of the palace, where the portraits of the Doges are placed, there is a vacant space between the portraits of Falliers immediate predecessor and successor, with this inscription: Locus Marini Fallieri decapitati. The only other instance which history presents to our contemplation, of a sovereign tried according to the forms of law, and condemned to death by a Tribunal of his own subjects, is that of Charles the First, of Great Britain. But how differently are we affected by a review of the two cases! In the one, the original errors of the misguided Prince are forgotten in the severity of his fate, and in the calm majestic firmness with which he bore it. Those who, from public spirit, had opposed the unconstitutional measures of his government, were no more; and the men now in power were actuated by far different principles. All the passions of humanity, therefore, take part with the royal sufferer; nothing but the ungenerous spirit of party can seduce them to the side of his enemies. In his trial we behold, with a mixture of pity and indignation, the unhappy monarch delivered up to the malice of hypocrites, the rage of fanatics, and the insolence of a lowborn law ruffian. In the other, every sentiment of compassion is effaced by horror, at the enormity of the crime. In the year 1361, after the death of the Doge John Delfino, when the last electors were confined in the Ducal Chamber to choose his successor, and while the election vibrated between three candidates, a report arrived at Venice, that Laurentius Celsus, who commanded the fleet, had obtained a complete victory over the Genoese, who were at that time at war with the Venetians. This intelligence was communicated to the electors, who immediately dropped all the three candidates, and unanimously chose this commander. Soon after, it was found, that the rumour of the victory was entirely groundless. This could not affect the validity of the election; but it produced a decree to prevent, on future occasions of the same kind, all communication between the people without, and the conclave of electors. This Doges father displayed a singular instance of weakness and vanity, which some of the historians have thought worth transmitting to us. I do not know for what reason, unless it be to comfort posterity with the reflection, that human folly is much the same in all ages, and that their ancestors have not been a great deal wiser than themselves. This old gentleman thought it beneath the dignity of a father to pull off his cap to his own son; and that he might not seem to condescend so far, even when all the other nobles shewed this mark of respect to their sovereign, he went, from the moment of his sons election, upon all occasions, and in all weathers, with his head uncovered. The Doge being solicitous for his fathers health, and finding that no persuasion, nor explanation of the matter, that could be given, were sufficient to overcome this obstinacy, recollected that he was as devout as he was vain, which suggested an expedient that had the desired effect. He placed a cross on the front of his ducal coronet. The old man was as desirous to testify his respect to the cross, as he was averse to pay obeisance to his son; and unable to devise any way of pulling off a cap which he never wore, his piety, at length, got the better of his pride; he resumed his cap, as formerly, that, as often as his son appeared, he might pull it off in honour of the cross. During the reign of Laurentius Celsus, the celebrated poet Petrarch, who resided for some time at Venice, and was pleased with the manners of the people, and the wisdom of their government, made a present to the republic, of his collection of books; which, at that time, was reckoned very valuable. This was the foundation of the great library of St. Mark. In perusing the annals of Venice, we continually meet with new institutions. No sooner is any inconveniency perceived, than measures are taken to remove it, or guard against its effects. About this time, three new magistrates were appointed, whose duty is to prevent all ostentatious luxuries in dress, equipage, and other expensive superfluities, and to prosecute those who transgress the sumptuary laws, which comprehend such objects. Those magistrates are called Sopra Proveditori alle Pomp; they were allowed a discretionary power of levying fines, from people of certain professions; who deal entirely in articles of luxury. Of this number, that of public courtesans was reckoned. This profession, according to all accounts, formerly flourished at Venice, with a degree of splendour unknown in any other capital of Europe; and very considerable exactions were raised to the use of the State, at particular times, from the wealthiest of those dealers. This excise, it would appear, has been pushed beyond what the trade could bear; for it is at present in a state of wretchedness and decay; the best of the business, as is said, being now carried on, for mere pleasure, by people who do not avow themselves of the profession. LETTER XIV. Venice. No government was ever more punctual, and impartial, than that of Venice, in the execution of the laws. This was thought essential to the wellbeing, and very existence, of the State. For this, all respect for individuals, all private considerations whatever, and every compunctious feeling of the heart, is sacrificed. To execute law with all the rigour of justice, is considered as the chief virtue of a judge; and, as there are cases in which the sternest may relent, the Venetian government has taken care to appoint certain magistrates, whose sole business is to see that others perform their duty upon all occasions. All this is very fine in the abstract, but we often find it detestable in the application. In the year 1400, while Antonio Venier was Doge, his son having committed an offence which evidently sprung from mere youthful levity, and nothing worse, was condemned in a fine of one hundred ducats, and to be imprisoned for a certain time. While the young man was in prison, he fell sick, and petitioned to be removed to a purer air. The Doge rejected the petition; declaring, that the sentence must be executed literally; and that his son must take the fortune of others in the same predicament. The youth was much beloved, and many applications were made, that the sentence might be softened, on account of the danger which threatened him. The father was inexorable, and the son died in prison. Of whatever refined substance this mans heart may have been composed, I am better pleased that mine is made of the common materials. Carlo Zeno was accused, by the Council of Ten, of having received a sum of money from Francis Carraro, son of the Seignior of Padua, contrary to an express law, which forbids all subjects of Venice, on any pretext whatever, accepting any salary, pension, or gratification, from a foreign Prince, or State. This accusation was grounded on a paper found among Carraros accounts, when Padua was taken by the Venetians. In this paper was an article of four hundred ducats paid to Carlo Zeno, who declared, in his defence, that while he was, by the Senates permission, governor of the Milanese, he had visited Carraro, then a prisoner in the castle of Asti; and finding him in want of common necessaries, he had advanced to him the sum in question; and that this Prince, having been liberated some short time after, had, on his return to Padua, repaid the money. Zeno was a man of acknowledged candour, and of the highest reputation; he had commanded the fleets and armies of the State with the most brilliant success; yet neither this, nor any other considerations, prevailed on the Court to depart from their usually severity. They owned that, from Zenos usual integrity, there was no reason to doubt the truth of his declaration; but the assertions of an accused person were not sufficient to efface the force of the presumptive circumstances which appeared against him.His declaration might be convincing to those who knew him intimately, but was not legal evidence of his innocence; and they adhered to a distinguishing maxim of this Court, that it is of more importance to the State, to intimidate every one from even the appearance of such a crime, than to allow a person, against whom a presumption of guilt remained, to escape, however innocent he might be. This man, who had rendered the most essential services to the republic, and had gained many victories, was condemned to be removed from all his offices, and to be imprisoned for two years. But the most affecting instance of the odious inflexibility of Venetian courts, appears in the case of Foscari, son to the Doge of that name. This young man had, by some imprudences, given offence to the Senate, and was, by their orders, confined at Treviso, when Almor Donato, one of the Council of Ten, was assassinated, on the 5th of November 1750, as he entered his own house. A reward, in ready money, with pardon for this, or any other crime, and a pension of two hundred ducats, revertible to children, was promised to any person who would discover the planner, or perpetrator, of this crime. No such discovery was made. One of young Foscaris footmen, named Olivier, had been observed loitering near Donatos house on the evening of the murder;he fled from Venice next morning. These, with other circumstances of less importance, created a strong suspicion that Foscari had engaged this man to commit the murder. Olivier was taken, brought to Venice, put to the torture, and confessed nothing; yet the Council of Ten, being prepossessed with an opinion of their guilt, and imagining that the master would have less resolution, used him in the same cruel manner.The unhappy young man, in the midst of his agony, continued to assert, that he knew nothing of the assassination. This convinced the Court of his firmness, but not of his innocence; yet as there was no legal proof of his guilt, they could not sentence him to death. He was condemned to pass the rest of his life in banishment, at Cana, in the island of Candia. This unfortunate youth bore his exile with more impatience than he had done the rack; he often wrote to his relations and friends, praying them to intercede in his behalf, that the term of his banishment might be abridged, and that he might be permitted to return to his family before he died.All his applications were fruitless; those to whom he addressed himself had never interfered in his favour, for fear of giving offence to the obdurate Council, or had interfered in vain. After languishing five years in exile, having lost all hope of return, through the interposition of his own family, or countrymen, in a fit of despair he addressed the Duke of Milan, putting him in mind of services which the Doge, his father, had rendered him, and begging that he would use his powerful influence with the State of Venice, that his sentence might be recalled. He entrusted his letter to a merchant, going from Cana to Venice, who promised to take the first opportunity of sending it from thence to the Duke; instead of which, this wretch, as soon as he arrived at Venice, delivered it to the chiefs of the Council of Ten. This conduct of young Foscari appeared criminal in the eyes of those judges; for, by the laws of the republic, all its subjects are expressly forbid claiming the protection of foreign Princes, in any thing which relates to the government of Venice. Foscari was therefore ordered to be brought from Candia, and shut up in the State prison. There the chiefs of the Council of Ten ordered him once more to be put to the torture, to draw from him the motives which determined him to apply to the Duke of Milan. Such an exertion of law is, indeed, the most flagrant injustice. The miserable youth declared to the Council, that he had wrote the letter, in the full persuasion that the merchant, whose character he knew, would betray him, and deliver it to them; the consequence of which, he foresaw, would be, his being ordered back a prisoner to Venice, the only means he had in his power of seeing his parents and friends; a pleasure for which he had languished, with unsurmountable desire, for some time, and which he was willing to purchase at the expence of any danger or pain. The Judges, little affected with this generous instance of filial piety, ordained, that the unhappy young man should be carried back to Candia, and there be imprisoned for a year, and remain banished to that island for life; with this condition, that if he should make any more applications to foreign Powers, his imprisonment should be perpetual. At the same time they gave permission, that the Doge and his lady, might visit their unfortunate son. The Doge was, at this time, very old; he had been in possession of the office above thirty years. Those wretched parents had an interview with their son in one of the apartments of the palace; they embraced him with all the tenderness which his misfortunes, and his filial affection, deserved. The father exhorted him to bear his hard fate with firmness; the son protested, in the most moving terms, that this was not in his power; that however others could support the dismal loneliness of a prison, he could not; that his heart was formed for friendship, and the reciprocal endearments of social life; without which his soul sunk into dejection worse than death, from which alone he should look for relief, if he should again be confined to the horrors of a prison; and melting into tears, he sunk at his fathers feet, imploring him to take compassion on a son who had ever loved him with the most dutiful affection, and who was perfectly innocent of the crime of which he was accused; he conjured him, by every bond of nature and religion, by the bowels of a father, and the mercy of a Redeemer, to use his influence with the Council to mitigate their sentence, that he might be saved from the most cruel of all deaths, that of expiring under the slow tortures of a broken heart, in a horrible banishment from every creature he loved.My son, replied the Doge, submit to the laws of your country, and do not ask of me what it is not in my power to obtain. Having made this effort, he retired to another apartment; and, unable to support any longer the acuteness of his feelings, he sunk into a state of insensibility, in which condition he remained till some time after his son had sailed on his return to Candia. Nobody has presumed to describe the anguish of the wretched mother; those who are endowed with the most exquisite sensibility, and who have experienced distresses in some degree similar, will have the justest idea of what it was. The accumulated misery of those unhappy parents touched the hearts of some of the most powerful senators, who applied with so much energy for a complete pardon for young Foscari, that they were on the point of obtaining it; when a vessel arrived from Candia, with tidings, that the miserable youth had expired in prison a short time after his return. Some years after this, Nicholas Erizzo, a noble Venetian, being on his deathbed, confessed that, bearing a violent resentment against the Senator Donato, he had committed the assassination for which the unhappy family of Foscari had suffered so much. At this time the sorrows of the Doge were at an end; he had existed only a few months after the death of his son. His life had been prolonged, till he beheld his son persecuted to death for an infamous crime; but not till he should see this foul stain washed from his family, and the innocence of his beloved son made manifest to the world. The ways of heaven never appeared more dark and intricate, than in the incidents and catastrophe of this mournful story. To reconcile the permission of such events, to our ideas of infinite power and goodness, however difficult, is a natural attempt in the human mind, and has exercised the ingenuity of philosophers in all ages; while, in the eyes of Christians, those seeming perplexities afford an additional proof, that there will be a future state, in which the ways of God to man will be fully justified. LETTER XV. Venice. I deferred giving you any account of the Council of Ten, till I came to mention the State Inquisitors, as the last was ingrafted on the former, and was merely intended to strengthen the hands, and augment the power, of that court. The Council of Ten consists, in effect, of seventeen members; for, besides the ten noblemen chosen annually by the Grand Council, from whose number this court receives its name, the Doge presides, and the six Counsellors of the Seigniory assist, when they think proper, at all deliberations. This court was first instituted in the year 1310, immediately after Theipolos conspiracy. It is supreme in all State crimes. It is the duty of three chiefs, chosen every month from this court, by lot, to open all letters addressed to it; to report the contents, and assemble the members, when they think proper. They have the power of seizing accused persons, examining them in prison, and taking their answers in writing, with the evidence against them; which being laid before the court, those chiefs appear as prosecutors. The prisoners, all this time, are kept in close confinement, deprived of the company of relations and friends, and not allowed to receive any advice by letters. They can have no counsel to assist them, unless one of the Judges chooses to assume that office; in which case he is permitted to manage their defence, and plead their cause; after which the Court decide, by a majority of votes, acquitting the prisoner, or condemning him to private or public execution, as they think proper; and if any persons murmur at the fate of their relations or friends, and talk of their innocence, and the injustice they have met with, these malcontents are in great danger of meeting with the same fate. I am convinced you will think, that such a court was sufficiently powerful to answer every good purpose of government. This, it would appear, was not the opinion of the Grand Council of Venice; who thought proper, in the year 1501, to create the Tribunal of State Inquisitors, which is still more despotic and brief in its manner of proceeding. This court consists of three members, all taken from the Council of Ten; two literally from the Ten, and the third from the Counsellors of the Seigniory, who also make a part of that Council. These three persons have the power of deciding, without appeal, on the lives of every citizen belonging to the Venetian State; the highest of the nobility, even the Doge himself, not being excepted. They keep the keys of the boxes into which anonymous informations are thrown. The informers who expect a recompence, cut off a little piece of their letter, which they afterwards shew to the Inquisitor when they claim a reward. To those three Inquisitors is given, the right of employing spies, considering secret intelligence, issuing orders to seize all persons whose words or actions they think reprehensible, and afterwards trying them when they think proper. If all the three are of one opinion, no farther ceremony is necessary; they may order the prisoner to be strangled in prison, drowned in the Canal Orfano, hanged privately in the nighttime, between the pillars, or executed publicly, as they please; and whatever their decision be, no farther inquisition can be made on the subject; but if any one of the three differs in opinion from his brethren, the cause must be carried before the full assembly of the Council of Ten. One would naturally imagine, that by those the prisoner would have a good chance of being acquitted; because the difference in opinion of the three Inquisitors shews, that the case is, at least, dubious; and in dubious cases one would expect the leaning would be to the favourable side; but this court is governed by different maxims from those you are acquainted with. It is a rule here to admit of smaller presumptions in all crimes which affect the Government, than in other cases; and the only difference they make between a crime fully proved, and one more doubtful, is, that, in the first case, the execution is in broad daylight; whereas, when there are doubts of the prisoners guilt, he is only put to death privately. The State Inquisitors have keys to every apartment of the Ducal palace, and can, when they think proper, penetrate into the very bedchamber of the Doge, open his cabinet, and examine his papers. Of course they may command access to the house of every individual in the State. They continue in office only one year, but are not responsible afterwards for their conduct while they were in authority. Can you think you would be perfectly composed, and easy in your mind, if you lived in the same city with three persons, who had the power of shutting you up in a dungeon, and putting you to death when they pleased, and without being accountable for so doing? If, from the characters of the Inquisitors of one year, a man had nothing to dread, still he might fear that a set, of a different character, might be in authority the next; and although he were persuaded, that the Inquisitors would always be chosen from among men of the most known integrity in the State, he might tremble at the malice of informers, and secret enemies; a combination of whom might impose on the understandings of upright Judges, especially where the accused is excluded from his friends, and denied counsel to assist him in his defence; for, let him be never so conscious of innocence, he cannot be sure of remaining unsuspected, or unaccused; nor can he be certain, that he shall not be put to the rack, to supply a deficiency of evidence: and finally, although a man were naturally possessed of so much firmness of character as to feel no inquietude from any of those considerations on his own account, he might still be under apprehensions for his children, and other connexions, for whom some men feel more anxiety than for themselves. Such reflections naturally arise in the minds of those who have been born, and accustomed to live, in a free country, where no such despotic Tribunal is established; yet we find people apparently easy in the midst of all those dangers; nay, we know that mankind shew the same indifference in cities, where the Emperor, or the Bashaw, amuses himself, from time to time, in cutting off the heads of those he happens to meet with in his walks; and I make no doubt, that if it were usual for the earth to open, and swallow a proportion of its inhabitants every day, mankind would behold this with as much coolness as at present they read the bills of mortality. Such is the effect of habit on the human mind, and so wonderfully does it accommodate itself to those evils for which there is no remedy. But these confederations do not account for the Venetian nobles suffering such Tribunals as those of the Council of Ten, or the State Inquisitors, to exist, because these are evils which it unquestionably is in their power to remedy; and attempts have been made, at various times, by parties of the nobility, to remove them entirely, but without success; the majority of the Grand Council having, upon trial, been found for preserving these institutions. It is believed to be owing to the attention of these courts, that the Venetian republic has lasted longer than any other; but, in my opinion, the chief object of a government should be, to render the people happy; and if it fails in that, the longer it lasts, so much the worse. If they are rendered miserable by that which is supposed to preserve the State, they cannot be losers by removing it, be the consequence what it may; and I fancy most people would rather live in a convenient, comfortable house, which could stand only a few centuries, than in a gloomy gothic fabric, which would last to the day of judgment. These despotic courts, the State Inquisitors, and Council of Ten, have had their admirers, not only among the Venetian nobility, but among foreigners; even among such as have, on other occasions, professed principles very unfavourable to arbitrary power. I find the following passage in a letter of Bishop Burnet, relating to Venice: But this leads me to say a little to you of that part of the constitution, which is so censured by strangers, but is really both the greatest glory, and the chief security, of this republic; which is, the unlimited power of the Inquisitors, that extends not only to the chief of the nobility, but to the Duke himself; who is so subject to them, that they may not only give him severe reprimands, but search his papers, make his process, and, in conclusion, put him to death, without being bound to give any account of their proceedings, except to the Council of Ten. This is the dread, not only of all the subjects, but of the whole nobility, and all that bear office in the republic, and makes the greatest amongst them tremble, and so obliges them to an exact conduct. Now, for my part, I cannot help thinking, that a Tribunal which keeps the Doge, the nobility, and all the subjects, in dread, and makes the greatest among them tremble, can be no great blessing in any State. To be in continual fear, is certainly a very unhappy situation; and if the Doge, the nobility, and all the subjects, are rendered unhappy, I should imagine, with all submission, that the glory and security of the rest of the republic must be of very small importance. In the same letter which I have quoted above, his Lordship, speaking of the State Inquisitors, has these words: When they find any fault, they are so inexorable, and so quick as well as severe in their justice, that the very fear of this is so effectual a restraint, that, perhaps, the only preservation of Venice, and of its liberty, is owing to this single piece of their constitution. How would you, my good friend, relish that kind of liberty in England, which could not be preserved without the assistance of a despotic court? Such an idea of liberty might have been announced from the throne, as one of the mysteries of Government, by James the First, or the Second; but we are amazed to find it published by a counsellor, and admirer of William the Third. It may, indeed, be said, that the smallness of the Venetian State, and its republican form of government, render it liable to be overturned by sudden tumults, or popular insurrections: this renders it the more necessary to keep a watchful eye over the conduct of individuals, and guard against every thing that may be the source of public commotion or disorder. The institution of State Inquisitors may be thought to admit of some apology in this view, like the extraordinary and irregular punishment of the Ostracism established at Athens, which had a similar foundation. In a large State, or in a less popular form of government, the same dangers from civil commotions cannot be apprehended; similar precautions for preventing them are therefore superfluous; but, notwithstanding every apology that can be made, I am at a loss to account for the existence of this terrible Tribunal for so long a time in the Venetian republic, because all ranks seem to have an interest in its destruction; and I do not see on what principle any one man, or any set of men, should wish for its preservation. It cannot be the Doge, for the State Inquisitors keep him in absolute bondage; nor would one naturally imagine that the nobles would relish this court, for the nobles are more exposed to the jealousy of the State Inquisitors than the citizens, or inferior people; and least of all ought the citizens to support a Tribunal, to which none of them can ever be admitted. As, however, the body of the nobility alone can remove this Tribunal from being part of the constitution, and yet, we find, they have always supported it; we must conclude, that a junto of that body which has sufficient influence to command a majority of their brethren, has always retained the power in their own hands, and found means of having the majority at least of the Council of Ten, chosen from their own members; so that this arbitrary court is, perhaps, always composed, by a kind of rotation, of the individuals of a junto. But if the possibility of this is denied, because of the precaution used in the form of electing by ballot, the only other way I can account for a Tribunal of such a nature being permitted to exist, is, by supposing that a majority of the Venetian nobles have so great a relish for unlimited power, that, to have a chance of enjoying it for a short period, they are willing to bear all the miseries of slavery for the rest of their lives. The encouragement given by this Government to anonymous accusers, and secret informations, is attended with consequences which greatly outweigh any benefit that can arise from them. They must destroy mutual confidence, and promote suspicions and jealousies among neighbours; and, while they render all ranks of men fearful, they encourage them to be malicious. The laws ought to be able to protect every man who openly and boldly accuses another. If any set of men, in a State, are so powerful, that it is dangerous for an individual to charge them with their crimes openly, there must be a weakness in that government which requires a speedy remedy; but let not that be a remedy worse than the disease. It is no proof of the boasted wisdom of this Government; that, in the use of the torture, it imitates many European States, whose judicial regulations it has avoided where they seem far less censurable. The practice of forcing confession, and procuring evidence by this means, always appeared to me a complication of cruelty and absurdity. To make a man suffer more than the pains of death, that you may discover whether he deserves death, or not, is a manner of distributing justice which I cannot reconcile to my idea of equity. If it is the intention of the Legislature, that every crime shall be expiated by the sufferings of somebody, and is regardless whether this expiation is made by the agonies of an innocent person, or a guilty, then there is no more to be said; but, if the intention be to discover the truth, this horrid device of the torture will very often fail; for nineteen people out of twenty will declare whatever they imagine will soonest put an end to their sufferings, whether it be truth or falsehood. LETTER XVI. Venice. Although many important events have happened since the establishment of the State Inquisition, which have greatly affected the power, riches, and extent of dominion of this republic, yet the nature of the Government has remained much the same. In what I have to add, therefore, I shall be very short and general. I have already observed, that it was the usual policy of this republic to maintain a neutrality, as long as possible, in all the wars which took place among her neighbours; and when obliged, contrary to her inclinations, to declare for either party, she generally joined with that State whose distant situation rendered its power and prosperity the least dangerous of the two to Venice. This republic seems, however, to have too much neglected to form defensive alliances with other States, and by the continual jealousy she shewed of them, joined to her immense riches, at last became the object of the hatred and envy of all the Powers in Europe. This universal jealousy was roused, and brought into action, in the year 1508, by the intriguing genius of Pope Julius the Second. A confederacy was secretly entered into at Cambray, between Julius, the Emperor Maximilian, Lewis the Twelfth, and Ferdinand of Arragon, against the republic of Venice. A bare enumeration of the Powers which composed this league, gives a very high idea of the importance of the State against which it was formed. The Duke of Savoy, the Duke of Farrara, and the Duke of Mantua, acceded to this confederacy, and gave in claims to part of the dominions of Venice. It was not difficult to form pretensions to the best part of the dominions of a State, which originally possessed nothing but a few marshy islands at the bottom of the Adriatic Gulph. It was the general opinion of Europe, that the league of Cambray would reduce Venice to her original possessions. The Venetians, finding themselves deprived of all hopes of foreign assistance, sought support from their own courage, and resolved to meet the danger which threatened them, with the spirit of a brave and independent people. Their General, Count Alviano, led an army against Lewis, who, being prepared before the other confederates, had already entered Italy. However great the magnanimity of the Senate, and the skill of their General, the soldiery were by no means equal to the disciplined troops of France, led by a martial nobility, and headed by a gallant monarch. The army of Alviano was defeated; new enemies poured on the republic from all sides; and she lost, in one campaign, all the territories in Italy which she had been ages in acquiring. Venice now found that she could no longer depend on her own strength and resources, and endeavoured to break, by policy, a combination which she had not force to resist. The Venetian Senate, knowing that Julius was the soul of the confederacy, offered to deliver up the towns he claimed, and made every other submission that could gratify the pride, and avert the anger, of that ambitious Pontiff; they also find means to separate Ferdinand from the alliance. Lewis and Maximilian being now their only enemies, the Venetians are able to sustain the war, till Julius, bearing no longer any resentment against the republic, and seized with remorse at beholding his native country ravaged by French and German armies, unites with Venice to drive the invaders out of Italy; and this republic is saved, with the loss of a small part of her Italian dominions, from a ruin which all Europe had considered as inevitable. The long and expensive wars between the different Powers of Europe, in which this State was obliged to take part, prove that her strength and resources were not exhausted. In the year 1570, the Venetians were forced into a ruinous war with the Ottoman Empire, at a time when the Senate, sensible of the great need they stood in of repose, had, with much address and policy, kept clear of the quarrels which agitated the rest of Europe. But Solymon the Second, upon the most frivolous pretext, demanded from them the island of Cyprus. It was evident to all the world, that he had no better foundation for this claim, than a strong desire, supported by a sufficient power, of conquering the island. This kind of right might not be thought complete in a court of equity; but, in the jurisprudence of monarchs, it has always been found preferable to every other. The Turks make a descent, with a great army, on Cyprus; they invest Famagousta, the capital; the garrison defends it with the most obstinate bravery; the Turks are repulsed in repeated assaults; many thousands of them are slain; but the ranks are constantly supplied by reinforcements. Antonio Bragadino, the commander, having displayed proofs of the highest military skill, and the most heroic courage, his garrison being quite exhausted with fatigue, and greatly reduced in point of numbers, is obliged to capitulate. The terms were, that the garrison should march out with their arms, baggage, and three pieces of cannon, and should be transported to Candia in Turkish vessels; that the citizens should not be pillaged, but allowed to retire with their effects. Mustapha, the Turkish Bashaw, no sooner had possession of the place, than he delivered it up to be pillaged by the Janissaries; the garrison were put in chains, and made slaves on board the Turkish gallies. The principal officers were beheaded, and the gallant Bragadino was tied to a pillar, and, in the Bashaws presence, flayed alive. We meet with events in the annals of mankind, that make us doubt the truth of the most authentic history. We cannot believe that such actions have ever been committed by the inhabitants of this globe, and by creatures of the same species with ourselves. We are tempted to think we are perusing the records of hell, whose inhabitants, according to the most authentic accounts, derive a constant pleasure from the tortures of each other, as well as of all foreigners. The conquest of the island of Cyprus is said to have cost the Turks fifty thousand lives. At this time, not Venice only, but all Christendom, had reason to dread the progress of the Turkish arms. The State of Venice solicited assistance from all the Catholic States; but France was, at that time, in alliance with the Turks; Maximilian dreaded their power; the Crown of Portugal was possessed by a child, and Poland was exhausted by her wars with Russia. The Venetians, on this pressing occasion, received assistance from Rome, whose power they had so often resisted, and from Spain, their late enemy. Pope Pius the Fifth, and Philip the Second, joined their fleets with that of the republic. The confederate fleet assembled at Messina. The celebrated Don John of Austria, natural son to Charles the Fifth, was Generalissimo; Mark Antonio Colonna commanded the Popes division, and Sebastian Veniero the Venetian. The Turkish fleet was greatly superior in the number of vessels. The two fleets meet in the Gulph of Lapanta: it is said, that the Turkish gallies were entirely worked by Christian slaves, and the gallies of the Christians by Turkish; a shocking proof of the barbarous manner in which prisoners of war were treated in that age; and, in this instance, as absurd as it was barbarous; for a cartel for an exchange of prisoners would have given freedom to the greater number of those unhappy men, without diminishing the strength of either navy. The fleets engage, and the Turks are entirely defeated. Historians assert, that twenty thousand Turks were killed in the engagement, and one half of their fleet destroyed. This is a prodigious number to be killed on one side, and in a sea fight; it ought to be remembered, that there is no Turkish writer on the subject. Pius the Fifth died soon after the battle of Lapanta. Upon his death the war languished on the side of the Allies; Philip became tired of the expence, and the Venetians were obliged to purchase a peace, by yielding the island of Cyprus to the Turks, and agreeing to pay them, for three years, an annual tribute of one hundred thousand ducats. Those circumstances have no tendency to confirm the accounts which Christian writers have given, of the immense loss which the Turks met with at the battle of Lapanta. In the beginning of the seventeenth century, the republic had a dispute with the Pope, which, in that age, was thought a matter of importance, and engaged the attention of all Christendom. Paul the Fifth shewed as eager a disposition as any of his predecessors, to extend the Papal authority. He had an inveterate prejudice against the Venetian republic, on account of her having, on every occasion, resisted all ecclesiastical encroachments. He sought, with impatience, an opportunity of manifesting his hatred, and expected that he should be assisted by the pious Princes of Europe, in bringing this refractory child of the church to reason. He began by demanding a sum of money, for the purpose of carrying on the war against the Turks in Hungary; he complained of certain decrees of the Senate, relating to the internal government of the republic, particularly one which forbad the building of any more new churches, without the permission of that assembly, and which, he said, smelt strongly of heresy; and above all, he exclaimed against the Council of Ten, for having imprisoned an Ecclesiastic, and prepared to bring him to a public trial. This reverend person, for whom his Holiness interested himself so warmly, was accused of having poisoned five people, one of whom was his own father. He was also accused of having caused another to be assassinated; and, to prevent a discovery, had afterwards poisoned the assassin. The Senate refused the money, confirmed their decree against the building of churches, and applauded the conduct of the Council of Ten, in prosecuting the Ecclesiastic. The authors of the age arranged themselves on the one side, or the other, and this became a war of controversy; in which, though there was no blood shed, yet it appeared, by the writings of the partisans, that a considerable number of understandings were greatly injured. Those who supported the Popes cause insisted, that the temporal power of Princes is subordinate to his; that he has a right to deprive them of their dominions, and release their subjects from their oaths of fidelity, as often as this shall be for the glory of God, and for the good of the Church; of which nobody could be so good a judge as the Pope, since all the world knew he was infallible; that ecclesiastics were not subjected to the civil power; that an ecclesiastical court, or the Pope, only, had authority over that body of men; and nothing could be more abominable, than to continue a prosecution against a prisoner, whatever his crimes might be, after the Father of the church, who had the undoubted power of absolving sinners, had interfered in his favour. The Senate, in their answers, acknowledged, that the Pope was supreme head of the Church, and that, in all subjects of religious belief, his power was unbounded; for which reason they remained implicit and submissive believers; that they were far from disputing the infallibility of his Holiness in ecclesiastical matters, particularly within his own dominions; but, with regard to the government of their subjects, they would certainly take the whole trouble of that on themselves, and would administer as impartial justice to Ecclesiastics, as to those of other professions. They imagined also, that they were competent judges when, and for what purposes, they ought to levy money upon their own subjects, and whether it would be necessary to build any new churches in Venice, or not. Finally, they flattered themselves, that the prosecuting a murderer was no way inconsistent with the glory of God. The greater number of the Princes of Christendom seemed to think the Senate were in the right. The Pope was disappointed in his expectations; and finding himself unsupported, was glad to shelter his pride under the mediation of Henry the Fourth of France, who endeavoured to give his Holinesss defeat the appearance of victory. LETTER XVII. Venice. The year 1618 is distinguished in the annals of Venice, by a conspiracy of a more formidable nature than any hitherto mentioned. The design of other conspiracies was a change in the form of government, or, at most, the destruction of some particular class of men in power; but the present plot had for its object the total annihilation of the Venetian republic. I speak of the conspiracy formed by the Marquis of Bedmar, ambassador from the Court of Spain, in conjunction with the Duke of Ossono, and the Spanish governor of the Milanese. The interesting manner in which this dark design has been described by the Abb St. Real, has made it more universally known than any other part of the Venetian story. This writer is accused of having ornamented his account with some fanciful circumstances, an objection often enviously urged against some of the most agreeable writers, by authors whom nature has guarded from the possibility of committing such an error; men, whose truths are less interesting than fictions, and whose fictions are as dull as the most insipid truths. Does any reader believe that the speeches of the Generals before a battle, as recorded by Livy, were actually pronounced in the terms of that author? Or, can any one wish they were expunged from his history? Abb St. Real has also put speeches into the mouths of the conspirators, and has embellished, without materially altering, the real circumstances of the story. For my own part, I feel a degree of gratitude to every person who has entertained me; and while my passions are agreeably agitated with St. Reals lively history, I cannot bear that a phlegmatic fellow should interrupt my enjoyment; and, because of a few embellishments, declare, with an affected air of wisdom, that the whole is an idle romance. The discovery of this plot, and the impressions of jealousy and terror which it left on the minds of the inhabitants of Venice, probably first suggested a plan of a more wicked nature than any of the conspiracies we have hitherto mentioned, and which was actually put in execution. A set of villains combined together to accuse some of the nobility of treasonable practices, merely for the sake of the rewards bestowed upon informers. This horrid crime may be expected in all Governments where spies and informers are encouraged; it certainly occurs frequently at Venice; sometimes, no doubt, without being detected, and sometimes it is detected, without being publicly punished, for fear of discouraging the business of information: but on the discovery of the present combination, all Venice was struck with such horror, that the Senate thought proper to publish every circumstance. A certain number of those miscreants acted the part of accusers; the others, being seized by the information of their accomplices, appeared as witnesses. A noble Venetian, of a respectable character, and advanced in years, of the name of Foscarini, fell a victim to this horrid cabal; and Venice beheld with astonishment and sorrow, one of her most respectable citizens accused, condemned, and executed as a traitor. At length, accusations followed each other so close, that they created suspicions in the minds of the Judges. The informers themselves were seized, and examined separately, and the whole dreadful scheme became manifest. These wretches suffered the punishment due to such complicated villany; the honour of Foscarini was reinstated, and every possible compensation made to his injured family. An instance like this, of the despotic precipitancy of the Inquisitors, more than counterbalances all the benefit which the State ever receives from them, or the odious race of informers they encourage. If the trial of the unfortunate Foscarini had been open, or public, and not in secret, according to the form of the Inquisitors Court; and if he had been allowed to call exculpatory evidence, and assisted by those friends who knew all his actions, the falsehood and villany of these accusers would probably have been discovered, and his life saved. In the year 1645, the Turks made an unexpected and sudden descent on the island of Candia. The Senate of Venice did not display their usual vigilance on this occasion. They had seen the immense warlike preparations going forward, and yet allowed themselves to be amused by the Grand Seigniors declaring war against Malta, and pretending that the armament was intended against that island. The troops landed without opposition, and the town of Cana was taken after an obstinate defence. This news being brought to Venice, excited an universal indignation against the Turks; and the Senate resolved to defend, to the utmost, this valuable part of the empire. Extraordinary ways and means of raising money were fallen upon: among others, it was proposed to sell the rank of nobility. Four citizens offered one hundred thousand ducats each for this honour; and, notwithstanding some opposition, this measure was at last carried. Eighty families were admitted into the Grand Council, and to the honour and privileges of the nobility. What an idea does this give of the wealth of the inhabitants of Venice? The siege of Candia, the capital of the island of that name, is, in some respects, more memorable than that of any town, which history, or even which poetry, has recorded. It lasted twentyfour years. The amazing efforts made by the republic of Venice astonished all Europe; their courage interested the gallant spirits of every nation: volunteers from every country came to Candia, to exercise their valour, to acquire knowledge in the military art, and assist a brave people whom they admired. The Duke of Beaufort, so much the darling of the Parisian populace during the war of the Fronde, was killed here, with many more gallant French officers. During this famous siege, the Venetians gained many important victories over the Turkish fleets. Sometimes they were driven from the walls of Candia, and the Turkish garrison of Cana was even besieged by the Venetian fleets. The slaughter made of the Turkish armies is without example; but new armies were soon found to supply their place, by a Government which boasts such populous dominions, and which has despotic authority over its subjects. Mahomet the Fourth, impatient at the length of this siege, came to Negropont, that he might have more frequent opportunities of hearing from the Vizier, who carried on the siege. An officer sent with dispatches, was directed by the Vizier, to explain to Mahomet the manner in which he made his approaches, and to assure him that he would take all possible care to save the lives of the soldiers. The humane Emperor answered, That he had sent the Vizier to take the place, and not to spare the lives of soldiers; and he was on the point of ordering the head of the officer who brought this message, to be cut off, merely to quicken the Vizier in his operations, and to shew him how little he valued the lives of men. In spite of the Viziers boasted parsimony, this war is said to have cost the lives of two hundred thousand Turks. Candia capitulated in the year 1668: the conditions on this occasion were honourably fulfilled. Morsini, the Venetian General, after displaying prodigies of valour and capacity, marched out of the rubbish of this welldisputed city, with the honours of war. The expence of such a tedious war greatly exhausted the resources of Venice, which could not now repair them so quickly as formerly, when she enjoyed the rich monopoly of the Asiatic trade; the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope having long since opened that valuable commerce to the Portuguese and other nations. This republic remained in a state of tranquillity, endeavouring, by the arts of peace, and cultivation of that share of commerce which she still retained, to fill her empty exchequer, till she was drawn into a new war, in the year 1683, by the insolence of the Ottoman Court. The Venetians had for some time endeavoured, by negociation, and many conciliatory representations, to accommodate matters with the Turks; and though the haughty conduct of her enemies afforded small hopes of success, yet such was her aversion to war on the present occasion, that she still balanced, whether to bear those insults, or repel them by arms; when she was brought to decision by an event which gave the greatest joy to Venice, and astonished all Europe. This was the great victory gained over the Turkish army before the walls of Vienna, by Sobieski, King of Poland. In this new war, their late General Morsini again had the command of the fleets and armies of the republic, and sustained the great reputation he had acquired in Candia. He conquered the Morea, which was ceded formally to Venice, with some other acquisition, at the peace of Carlowitz, in the last year of the last century. During the war of the succession, the State of Venice observed a strict neutrality. They considered that dispute as unconnected with their interests, taking care, however, to keep on foot an army on their frontiers in Italy, of sufficient force to make them respected by the contending Powers. But, soon after the peace of Utrecht, the Venetians were again attacked by their old enemies the Turks; who, beholding the great European Powers exhausted by their late efforts, and unable to assist the republic, thought this the favourable moment for recovering the Morea, which had been so lately ravished from them. The Turks obtained their object, and at the peace of Passarowitz, which terminated this unsuccessful war, the Venetian State yielded up the Morea; the Grand Seignior, on his part, restoring to them the small islands of Cerigo and Cerigotto, with some places which his troops had taken during the course of the war in Dalmatia. Those, with the islands of Corfou, Santa Maura, Zante, and Cephalonia, the remains of their dominions in the Levant, they have since fortified, at a great expence, as their only barriers against the Turk. Since this period no essential alteration has taken place in the Venetian government, nor has there been any essential increase, or diminution, in the extent of their dominions. They have little to fear at present from the Turks, whose attention is sufficiently occupied by a more formidable enemy than the republic and the House of Austria united. Besides, if the Turks were more disengaged, as they have now stripped the republic of Cyprus, Candia, and their possessions in Greece, what remains in the Levant is hardly worth their attention. The declension of Venice did not, like that of Rome, proceed from the increase of luxury, or the revolt of their own armies in the distant Colonies, or from civil wars of any kind. Venice has dwindled in power and importance, from causes which could not be foreseen; or guarded against by human prudence, although they had been foreseen. How could this republic have prevented the discovery of a passage to Asia by the Cape of Good Hope? or hinder other nations from being inspired with a spirit of enterprise, industry, and commerce? In their present situation there is little probability of their attempting new conquests; happy if they are allowed to remain in the quiet possession of what they have. Venice has a most formidable neighbour in the Emperor, whose dominions border on those of this republic on all sides. The independency of the republic entirely depends on his moderation; or, in case he should lose that virtue, on the protection of some of the great Powers of Europe. I have now finished the sketch I proposed, of the Venetian government, with which I could not help intermingling many of the principal historical events; indeed I enlarged on these, after you informed me, that you intended to give your young friend copies of my letters on this subject, before he begins his tour. I wish they were more perfect on his account; they will, at least, prevent his being in the situation of some travellers I have met with, who, after remaining here for many months, knew no more of the ancient or modern state of Venice, than that the inhabitants went about in boats instead of coaches, and, generally speaking, wore masks. LETTER XVIII. Venice. Having travelled with you through the splendid ras of the Venetian story, and presented their statesmen and heroes to your view, let us now return to the present race, in whose life and conversation, I forewarn you, there is nothing heroic. The truth is, that in every country, as well as Venice, we can only read of heroes; they are seldom to be seen: for this plain reason, that while they are to be seen we do not think them heroes. The historian dwells upon what is vast and extraordinary; what is common and trivial finds no place in his records. When we hear the names of Epaminondas, Themistocles, Camillus, Scipio, and other great men of Greece and Rome, we think of their great actions, we know nothing else about them;but when we see the worthies of our own times, we unfortunately recollect their whole history. The citizens of Athens and Rome, who lived in the days of the heroes above mentioned, very probably had not the same admiration of them that we have; and our posterity, some eight or ten centuries hence, will, it is to be hoped, have a higher veneration for the great men of the present age, than their intimate acquaintance are known to have, or than those can be supposed to form, who daily behold them lounging in gaminghouses. All this, you perceive, is little more than a commentary on the old observation, That no man is a hero to his Valet de Chambre. The number of playhouses in Venice is very extraordinary, considering the size of the town, which is not thought to contain above one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, yet there are eight or nine theatres here, including the operahouses. You pay a trifle at the door for admittance; this entitles you to go into the pit, where you may look about, and determine what part of the house you will sit in. There are rows of chairs placed in the front of the pit, next the orchestra; the seats of these chairs are folded to their backs, and fastened by a lock. Those who choose to take them, pay a little more money to the doorkeeper, who immediately unlocks the seat. Very decentlooking people occupy these chairs; but the back part of the pit is filled with footmen and gondoleers, in their common working clothes. The nobility, and better sort of citizens, have boxes retained for the year; but there are always a sufficient number to be let to strangers: the price of those varies every night, according to the season of the year, and the piece acted. A Venetian playhouse has a dismal appearance in the eyes of people accustomed to the brilliancy of those of London. Many of the boxes are so dark, that the faces of the company in them can hardly be distinguished at a little distance, even when they do not wear masks. The stage, however, is well illuminated, so that the people in the boxes can see, perfectly well, every thing that is transacted there; and when they choose to be seen themselves, they order lights into their boxes. Between the acts you sometimes see ladies walking about, with their Cavalieri Servents, in the back part of the pit, when it is not crowded. As they are masked, they do not scruple to reconnoitre the company, with their spyingglasses, from this place: when the play begins, they return to their boxes. This continual moving about from box to box, and between the boxes and the pit, must create some confusion, and, no doubt, is disagreeable to those who attend merely on account of the piece. There must, however, be found some douceur in the midst of all this obscurity and confusion, which, in the opinion of the majority of the audience, overbalances these obvious inconveniences. The music of the opera here is reckoned as fine as in any town in Italy; and, at any rate, is far superior to the praise of so very poor a judge as I am. The dramatic and poetical parts of those pieces are little regarded: the poet is allowed to indulge himself in as many anachronisms, and other inconsistencies, as he pleases. Provided the music receives the approbation of the critics ear, his judgment is not offended with any absurdities in the other parts of the composition. The celebrated Metastasio has disdained to avail himself of this indulgence in his operas, which are fine dramatic compositions. He has preserved the alliance which ought always to subsist between sense and music. But as for the music of the serious operas, it is, in general, infinitely too fine for my ear; to my shame I must confess, that it requires a considerable effort for me to sit till the end. It is surely happy for a man to have a real sensibility for fine music; because he has, by that means, one source of enjoyment more, than those whose auditory nerves are less delicately strung. It is, however, equally absurd and silly to affect an excessive delight in things which nature has not framed us to enjoy; yet how many of our acquaintance, accused of this folly, have we seen doing painful penance at the Haymarket; and, in the midst of unsuppressable yawnings, calling out, Charming! exquisite! bravissimo, c. It is amazing what pains some people take to render themselves ridiculous; and it is a matter of real curiosity to observe, in what various shapes the little despicable spirit of affectation shews itself among mankind. I remember a very honest gentleman, who understood little or nothing of French; but having picked up a few phrases, he brought them forward on every occasion, and affected, among his neighbours in the country, the most perfect knowledge, and highest admiration, of that language. When any body, in compliance with his taste, uttered a sentence in that tongue, though my good friend did not understand a syllable of it, yet he never failed to nod and smile to the speaker with the most knowing air imaginable. The parson of the parish, at a country dinner, once addressed him in these emphatic words: Monsieur, je trouve ce plumpudding extrmement bon! which happening not to be in my friends collection of phrases, he did not comprehend. He nodded and smiled to the clergyman, however, in his usual intelligent manner; but a person who sat near him, being struck with the sagacious and important tone in which the observation had been delivered, begged of my friend to explain it in English:on which, after some hesitation, he declared, that the turn of the expression was so genteel, and so exquisitely adapted to the French idiom, that it could not be rendered into English, without losing a great deal of the original beauty of the sentiment. At the comic opera I have sometimes seen action alone excite the highest applause, independent of either the poetry or the music. I saw a Duo performed by an old man and a young woman, supposed to be his daughter, in such an humorous manner, as drew an universal encora from the spectators. The merit of the musical part of the composition, I was told, was but very moderate, and as for the sentiment you shall judge. The father informs his daughter, in a song, that he has found an excellent match for her; who, besides being rich, and very prudent, and not too young, was over and above a particular friend of his own, and in person and disposition, much such a man as himself; he concludes, by telling her, that the ceremony will be performed next day. She thanks him, in the gayest air possible, for his obliging intentions, adding, that she should have been glad to have shewn her implicit obedience to his commands, provided there had been any chance of the mans being to her taste; but as, from the account he had given, there could be none, she declares she will not marry him next day, and adds, with a very long quaver, that if she were to live to eternity she should continue of the same opinion. The father, in a violent rage, tells her, that instead of tomorrow, the marriage should take place that very day; to which she replies, Non: he rejoins Si; she, Non, non; he, Si, si; the daughter, Non, non, non; the Father, Si, si, si; and so the singing continues for five or six minutes. You perceive there is nothing marvellously witty in this; and for a daughter to be of a different opinion from her father, in the choice of a husband, is not a very new dramatic incident. Well, I told you the Duo was encoredthey immediately performed it a second time, and with more humour than the first. The whole house vociferated for it again; and it was sung a third time in a manner equally pleasant, and yet perfectly different from any of the former two. I thought the house would have been brought down about our ears, so extravagant were the testimonies of approbation. The two actors were obliged to appear again, and sing this Duo a fourth time; which they executed in a style so new, so natural, and so exquisitely droll, that the audience now thought there had been something deficient in all their former performances, and that they had hit on the true comic only this last time. Some people began to call for it again; but the old man, now quite exhausted, begged for mercy; on which the point was given up. I never before had any idea that such strong comic powers could have been displayed in the singing of a song. The dancing is an essential part of the entertainment at the opera here, as well as at London. There is certainly a much greater proportion of mankind deaf to the delights of music, than blind to the beauties of fine dancing. During the singing, and recitativo part of the performance, the singers are often allowed to warble for a considerable time, without any bodys minding them; but the moment the ballet begins, private conversation, though pretty universal before, is immediately at an end, and the eyes of all the spectators are fixed on the stage. This, to be sure, has been always the case in London, and, in spite of the pains some people take to conceal it, we all know the reason; but I own I did not expert to find the same preference of dancing to music in Italy. After seeing the dancing at the French opera, and coming so lately from Vienna, where we had seen some of Noveres charming ballets very well executed, we could have no high admiration of those performed here, though there are at present some dancers highly esteemed, who perform every night. The Italians, I am informed, have a greater relish for agility and high jumping in their dancers, than for graceful movements. It is extraordinary that they do not vary the ballets oftener. They give the same every night during the run of the opera. There is a propriety in continuing the same opera for a considerable time; because music is often better relished after it becomes a little familiar to the ear, than at first; but a ballet might be changed, without much difficulty, every night. LETTER XIX. Venice. Many people are surprised, that, in a Government so very jealous of its power as that of Venice, there is no military establishment within the city to support the executive power, and repress any popular commotion. For my own part, I am strongly of opinion, that it proceeds from this very jealousy in government, that there is no military garrison here. An arbitrary Prince is fond of a standing army, and loves to be always surrounded by guards; because he, being the permanent fountain of honours and promotion, the army will naturally be much attached to him, and become, on all occasions, the blind instruments of his pleasure; but at Venice, there is no visible permanent object, to which the army can attach itself. The Doge would not be allowed the command of the garrison, if there was one. The three State Inquisitors are continually changing; and before one set could gain the affections of the soldiers, another would be chosen; so that Government could not be supported, but much more probably would be overturned, by a numerous garrison being established in Venice; for it might perhaps not be difficult for a few of the rich and powerful nobles to corrupt the garrison, and gain over the commander to any ambitious plan of their own, for the destruction of the constitution. But although there is no formal garrison in a military uniform, yet there is a real effective force sufficient to suppress any popular commotion, at the command of the Senate, and Council of Ten. This force, besides the Sbirri, consists of a great number of stout fellows, who, without any distinguishing dress, are kept in the pay of Government, and are at the command of that Council. There is also the whole body of the gondoleers, the most hardy and daring of the common Venetians. This body of men are greatly attached to the nobility, from whom they have most of their employment, and with whom they acquire a certain degree of familiarity, by passing great part of their time, shut up in boats, in their company, and by being privy to many of their love intrigues. Great numbers of these gondoleers are in the service of particular nobles; and there is no doubt, that, in case of any popular insurrection, the whole would take the side of the nobility and Senate, against the people. In short, they may be considered as a kind of standing militia, ready to rise as soon as the Government requires their services. Lastly, there is the Grand Council itself, which, in case of any violent commotion of the citizens and populace, could be armed directly, from the small arsenal within the Ducal palace, and would prove a very formidable force against an unarmed multitude; for the laws of Venice forbid, under pain of death, any citizen to carry firearms; a law which is very exactly executed by the State Inquisitors. By those means the executive power of Government is as irresistible at Venice, as at Petersburgh or Constantinople, while there is a far less chance of the Government itself being overthrown here by the instruments of its own power; for, although a regular army, or garrison, might be corrupted by the address of an ambitious Doge, or by a combination of a few rich and popular nobles, in which case a revolution would take place at once; it is almost impossible to conceive, that all the different powers above mentioned could be engaged to act in favour of one man, or a small combination of men, without being detected by the vigilance of the Inquisitors, or the jealousy of those who were not in the conspiracy. And if we suppose a majority of the nobles inclinable to any change in the form of the Government, they have no occasion to carry on a secret plot; they may come to the Council Chamber, and dictate whatever alterations they think proper. LETTER XX. Venice. There is unquestionably much reflection, and great depth of thought, displayed in the formation of the political constitution of Venice; but I should admire it much more, if the Council of Ten, and State Inquisitors, had never formed any part of it. Their institution, in my opinion, destroys the effect of all the rest. Like those misers who actually starve themselves, by endeavouring to avoid the inconveniencies of poverty, the Venetians, in whatever manner it is brought about, actually support a despotic tribunal, under the pretext of keeping out despotism. In some respects this system is worse than the fixed and permanent tyranny of one person; for that persons character and maxims would be known, and, by endeavouring to conform themselves to his way of thinking, people might have some chance of living unmolested; but according to this plan, they have a freethinker for their tyrant today, and a bigot tomorrow. One year a set of Inquisitors, who consider certain parts of conduct as innocent, which, in the sight of their successors, may appear State crimes; men do not know what they have to depend upon. An universal jealousy must prevail, and precautions will be used to avoid the suspicions of Government, unknown in any other country. Accordingly we find, that the noble Venetians are afraid of having any intercourse with foreign ambassadors, or with foreigners of any kind; they are even cautious of visiting at each others houses, and hardly ever have meetings together, except at the courts, or on the Broglio. The boasted secrecy of their public councils proceeds, in all probability, from the same principle of fear. If all conversation on public affairs were forbid, under pain of death, and if the members of the British Parliament were liable to be seized in the nighttime by general warrants, and hanged at Tyburn, or drowned in the Thames, at the pleasure of the Secretaries of State, I dare swear the world would know as little of what passes in either House of Parliament, as they do of what is transacted in the Senate of Venice. It is not safe for a noble Venetian to acquire, in a high degree, the love and confidence of the common people. This excites the jealousy of the Inquisitors, and proves a pretty certain means of excluding him from any of the high offices. A Government which displays so much distrust and suspicion where there is little or no ground, will not fail to shew marks of the same disposition where, in the general opinion, there is some reason to be circumspect. Ecclesiastics, of every denomination, are excluded, by the constitution of Venice, from a place in the Senate, or holding any civil office whatever; nor is it permitted them, directly or indirectly, to intermeddle in State affairs. In many instances, they are deprived of that kind of influence which, even in Protestant countries, is allowed to the clergy. The Patriarch of Venice has not the disposal of the offices belonging to St. Marks church: all the Deans are named by the Doge and Senate. Though it is forbid to the nobility, and to the clergy, to hold any conversation with strangers upon politics, or affairs of State; yet it is remarked, the gondoleers are exceeding ready to talk upon these, or any other subjects, with all who give them the smallest encouragement. Those who are not in the immediate service of any particular nobleman, are often retained by Government, like the Valets de place at Paris, as spies upon strangers. It is said, that while those fellows row their gondolas, in seeming inattention to the conversation, they are taking notice of every thing which is said, that they may report it to their employers, when they imagine it any way concerns the Government. If this is true, those are to be pitied who are obliged to listen to all the stuff that such politicians may be supposed to relate. As soon as a stranger arrives, the gondoleers who brought him to Venice immediately repair to a certain office, and give information where they took him up, to what house they conducted him, and of any other particulars they may have picked up. All those precautions recalled to my memory the garrison of Darmstadt, of which I gave you an account in a letter from that place, where the strictest duty is kept up by day and night, in winter as well as summer, and every precaution used, as if an enemy were at the gates; though no mortal has the smallest design against the place, and though it is perfectly understood by all the inhabitants, that if an army was in reality to come with hostile intentions, the town could not hold out a week. In the same manner, I cannot help thinking, that all this jealousy and distrust, those numerous engines set a going, and all this complicated system for the discovery of plots, and the defence of the constitution of this republic, serves only to harass their own subjects. Their constitution is certainly in no such danger as to require such an apparatus of machines to defend it, unless, indeed, the Emperor were to form a plot against it; and, in that case, it is much to be feared, that the spies, gondoleers, lions mouths, and State Inquisitors, would hardly prevent its success. Exclusive of this State Inquisition, my abhorrence to which, I perceive, leads me sometimes away from my purpose, all ranks of people here might be exceeding happy. The business of the various courts, and the great number of offices in the State, form a constant employment for the nobles, and furnish them with proper objects to excite industry and ambition. The citizens form a respectable body in the State; and, though they are excluded from the Senate, they may hold some very lucrative and important offices. By applying to the arts and sciences, which are encouraged at Venice, they have a fair chance of living agreeably, and laying up a competency for their families. Private property is no where better secured than at Venice; and notwithstanding she no longer enjoys the trade of Asia without competitors, yet her commerce is still considerable, and many individuals acquire great wealth by trade. The manufactories established here employ all the industrious poor, and prevent that squalid beggary, that pilfering and robbery, one or other, or all of which, prevail in most other countries of Europe. Their subjects on the Terra Firma, I am informed, are not at all oppressed; the Senate has found that mild treatment, and good usage, are the best policy, and more effectual than armies, in preventing revolts. The Podestas, therefore, are not allowed to abuse their power, by treating the people with severity or injustice. Those Governors know, that any complaints produced against them, will be scrutinized by the Senate very carefully. This prevents many abuses of power on their part, and makes the neighbouring provinces which formerly belonged to this State, regret the chance of war which ravished them from the equitable government of their ancient masters. LETTER XXI. Venice. Though the Venetian Government is still under the influence of jealousy, that gloomy Dmon is now entirely banished from the bosoms of individuals. Instead of the confinement in which women were formerly kept at Venice, they now enjoy a degree of freedom unknown even at Paris. Of the two extremes, the present, without doubt, is the preferable. The husbands seem at last convinced, that the chastity of their wives is safest under their own guardianship, and that when a woman thinks her honour not worth her own regard, it is still more unworthy of his. This advantage, with many others, must arise from the present system; that when a husband believes that his wife has faithfully adhered to her conjugal engagement, he has the additional satisfaction of knowing, that she acts from a love to him, or some honourable motive; whereas, formerly, a Venetian husband could not be certain that he was not obliged, for his wifes chastity, to iron bars, bolts, and padlocks. Could any man imagine, that a woman, whose chastity was preserved by such means only, was, in fact, more respectable than a common prostitute? The old plan of distrust and confinement, without even securing what was its object, must have had a strong tendency to debase the minds of both the husband and the wife; for what man, whose mind was not perfectly abject, could have pleasure in the society of a wife, who, to his own conviction, languished to be in the arms of another man? Of all the humble employments that ever the wretched sons of Adam submitted to, surely that of watching a wife from morning to night, and all night too, is the most perfectly humiliating. Such ungenerous distrust must also have had the worst effect on the minds of the women; made them view their gaolers with disgust and horror; and we ought not to be much surprised if some preferred the common gondoleers of the lakes, and the vagrants of the streets, to such husbands. Along with jealousy, poison and the stiletto have been banished from Venetian gallantry, and the innocent mask is substituted in their places. According to the best information I have received, this same mask is a much more innocent matter than is generally imagined. In general it is not intended to conceal the person who wears it, but only used as an apology for his not being in full dress. With a mask stuck in the hat, and a kind of black mantle, trimmed with lace of the same colour, over the shoulders, a man is sufficiently dressed for any assembly at Venice. Those who walk the streets, or go to the playhouses with masks actually covering their faces, are either engaged in some love intrigue, or would have the spectators think so; for this is a piece of affectation which prevails here, as well as elsewhere; and I have been assured, by those who have resided many years at Venice, that refined gentlemen, who are fond of the reputation, though they shrink from the catastrophe, of an intrigue, are no uncommon characters here; and I believe it the more readily, because I daily see many feeble gentlemen tottering about in masks, for whom a bason of warm restorative soup seems more expedient than the most beautiful woman in Venice. One evening at St. Marks Place, when a gentleman of my acquaintance was giving an account of this curious piece of affectation, he desired me to take notice of a Venetian nobleman of his acquaintance, who, with an air of mystery, was conducting a female mask into his Cassino. My acquaintance knew him perfectly well, and assured me, he was the most innocent creature with women he had ever been acquainted with. When this gallant person perceived that we were looking at him, his mask fell to the ground, as if by accident; and after we had got a complete view of his countenance, he put it on with much hurry, and immediately rushed, with his partner, into the Cassino. Fugit ad salices, sed se cupit ante videri. You have heard, no doubt, of those little apartments, near St. Marks Place, called Cassinos. They have the misfortune to labour under a very bad reputation; they are accused of being temples entirely consecrated to lawless love, and a thousand scandalous tales are told to strangers concerning them. Those tales are certainly not believed by the Venetians themselves, the proof of which is, that the Cassinos are allowed to exist; for I hold it perfectly absurd to imagine, that men would suffer their wives to enter such places, if they were not convinced that those stories were illfounded; nor can I believe, after all we have heard of the profligacy of Venetian manners, that women, even of indifferent reputations, would attend Cassinos in the open manner they do, if it were understood that more liberties were taken with them there than elsewhere. The opening before St. Marks church is the only place in Venice where a great number of people can assemble. It is the fashion to walk here a great part of the evening, to enjoy the music, and other amusements; and although there are coffeehouses, and Venetian manners permit ladies, as well as gentlemen, to frequent them, yet it was natural for the noble and most wealthy to prefer little apartments of their own, where, without being exposed to intrusion, they may entertain a few friends in a more easy and unceremonious manner than they could do at their palaces. Instead of going home to a formal supper, and returning afterwards to this place of amusement, they order coffee, lemonade, fruit, and other refreshments, to the Cassino. That those little apartments may be occasionally used for the purposes of intrigue, is not improbable; but that this is the ordinary and avowed purpose for which they are frequented is, of all things, the least credible. Some writers who have described the manners of the Venetians, as more profligate than those of other nations, assert at the same time, that the Government encourages this profligacy, to relax and dissipate the minds of the people, and prevent their planning, or attempting, any thing against the constitution. Were this the case, it could not be denied, that the Venetian legislators display their patriotism in a very extraordinary manner, and have fallen upon as extraordinary means of rendering their people good subjects. They first erect a despotic court to guard the public liberty, and next they corrupt the morals of the people, to keep them from plotting against the State. This last piece of refinement, however, is no more than a conjecture of some theoretical politicians, who are apt to take facts for granted, without sufficient proof, and afterwards display their ingenuity in accounting for them. That the Venetians are more given to sensual pleasures than the inhabitants of London, Paris, or Berlin, I imagine will be difficult to prove; but as the State Inquisitors do not think proper, and the ecclesiastical are not allowed, to interfere in affairs of gallantry; as a great number of strangers assemble twice or thrice a year at Venice, merely for the sake of amusement; and, above all, as it is the custom to go about in masks, an idea prevails, that the manners are more licentious here than elsewhere. I have had occasion to observe, that this custom of wearing a mask, by conveying the ideas of concealment and intrigue, has contributed greatly to give some people an impression of Venetian profligacy. But, for my own part, it is not a piece of white or black paper, with distorted features, that I suspect, having often found the most complete worthlessness concealed under a smooth smiling piece of human skin. LETTER XXII. Venice. I am very sensible, that it requires a longer residence at Venice, and better opportunities than I have had, to enable me to give a character of the Venetians. But were I to form an idea of them from what I have seen, I should paint them as a lively ingenious people, extravagantly fond of public amusements, with an uncommon relish for humour, and yet more attached to the real enjoyments of life, than to those which depend on ostentation, and proceed from vanity. The common people of Venice display some qualities very rarely to be found in that sphere of life, being remarkably sober, obliging to strangers, and gentle in their intercourse with each other. The Venetians in general are tall and well made. Though equally robust, they are not so corpulent as the Germans. The latter also are of fair complexions, with lightgrey or blue eyes; whereas the Venetians are for the most part of a ruddy brown colour, with dark eyes. You meet in the streets of Venice many fine manly countenances, resembling those transmitted to us by the pencils of Paul Veronese and Titian. The women are of a fine stile of countenance, with expressive features, and a skin of a rich carnation. They dress their hair in a fanciful manner, which becomes them very much. They are of an easy address, and have no aversion to cultivating an acquaintance with those strangers, who are presented to them by their relations, or have been properly recommended. Strangers are under less restraint here, in many particulars, than the native inhabitants. I have known some, who, after having tried most of the capitals of Europe, have preferred to live at Venice, on account of the variety of amusements, the gentle manners of the inhabitants, and the perfect freedom allowed in every thing, except in blaming the measures of Government. I have already mentioned in what manner the Venetians are in danger of being treated who give themselves that liberty. When a stranger is so imprudent as to declaim against the form or the measures of Government, he will either receive a message to leave the territories of the State, or one of the Sbirri will be sent to accompany him to the Popes or the Emperors dominions. The houses are thought inconvenient by many of the English; they are better calculated, however, for the climate of Italy, than if they were built according to the London model, which, I suppose, is the plan those critics approve. The floors are of a kind of red plaister, with a brilliant glossy surface, much more beautiful than wood, and far preferable in case of fire, whose progress they are calculated to check. The principal apartments are on the second floor. The Venetians seldom inhabit the first, which is often intirely filled with lumber: perhaps, they prefer the second, because it is farthest removed from the moisture of the lakes; or perhaps they prefer it, because it is better lighted, and more cheerful; or they may have some better reason for this preference than I am acquainted with, or can imagine. Though the inhabitants of Great Britain make use of the first floors for their chief apartments, this does not form a complete demonstration that the Venetians are in the wrong for preferring the second. When an acute sensible people universally follow one custom, in a mere matter of conveniency, however absurd that custom may appear in the eyes of a stranger at first sight, it will generally be found, that there is some real advantage in it, which compensates all the apparent inconveniencies. Of this travellers, who do not hurry with too much rapidity through the countries they visit, are very sensible: for, after having had time to weigh every circumstance, they often see reason to approve what they had formerly condemned. I could illustrate this by many examples; but your own recollection must furnish you with so many, that any more would be superfluous. Custom and fashion have the greatest influence on our taste of beauty or excellence of every kind. What, from a variety of causes, has become the standard in one country, is sometimes just the contrary in another. The same thing that makes a lowbrimmed hat appear genteel at one time, and ridiculous at another, has made a different species of versification be accounted the model of perfection in old Rome and modern Italy, at Paris, or at London. In matters of taste, particularly in dramatic poetry, the prejudices which each particular nation acquires in favour of its own is difficult to be removed. People seldom obtain such a perfect knowledge of a foreign language and foreign manners, as to understand all the niceties of the one and the allusions to the other: of consequence, many things are insipid to them, for which a native may have a high relish. The dialogues in rhime of the French plays appear unnatural and absurd to Englishmen when they first attend the French theatre; yet those who have remained long in France, and acquired a more perfect knowledge of the language, assure us, that without rhime the dignity of the Tragic Muse cannot be supported; and that, even in Comedy, they produce an additional elegance, which overbalances every objection. The French language being more studied and better understood by the English than our language is by the French nation, we find many of our countrymen who relish the beauties, and pay the just tribute of admiration to the genius of Corneille, while there is scarcely a single Frenchman to be found who has any idea of the merit of Shakespeare. Without being justly accused of partiality, I may assert that, in this instance, the English display a fairness and liberality of sentiment superior to the French. The irregularities of Shakespeares drama are obvious to every eye, and would, in the present age, be avoided by a poet not possessed of a hundredth part of his genius. His peculiar beauties, on the other hand, are of an excellence which has not, perhaps, been attained by any poet of any age or country; yet the French critics, from Voltaire down to the poorest scribbler in the literary journals, all stop at the former, declaim on the barbarous taste of the English nation, insist on the grotesque absurdity of the poets imagination, and illustrate both by partial extracts of the most exceptionable scenes of Shakespeares plays. When a whole people, with that degree of judgment which even the enemies of the British nation allow them to have, unite in the highest admiration of one man, and continue, for ages, to behold his pieces with unsated delight, it might occur to those Frenchmen, that there possibly was some excellence in the works of this poet, though they could not see it; and a very moderate share of candour might have taught them, that it would be more becoming to spare their ridicule, till they acquired a little more knowledge of the author against whom it is pointed. An incident which occurred since my arrival at Venice, though founded on a prejudice much more excusable than the conduit of the critics above mentioned, has brought home to my conviction the rashness of those who form opinions, without the knowledge requisite to direct their judgment. I had got, I dont know how, the most contemptuous opinion of the Italian drama. I had been told, there was not a tolerable actor at present in Italy, and I had been long taught to consider their comedy as the most despicable stuff in the world, which could not amuse, or even draw a smile from any person of taste, being quite destitute of true humour, full of ribaldry, and only proper for the meanest of the vulgar. Impressed with these sentiments, and eager to give his Grace a full demonstration of their justness, I accompanied the D of H to the stagebox of one of the playhouses the very day of our arrival at Venice. The piece was a comedy, and the most entertaining character in it was that of a man who stuttered. In this defect, and in the singular grimaces with which the actor accompanied it, consisted a great part of the amusement. Disgusted at such a pitiful substitution for wit and humour, I expressed a contempt for an audience which could be entertained by such buffoonery, and who could take pleasure in the exhibition of a natural infirmity. While we inwardly indulged sentiments of selfapprobation, on account of the refinement and superiority of our own taste, and supported the dignity of those sentiments by a disdainful gravity of countenance, the Stutterer was giving a piece of information to Harlequin which greatly interested him, and to which he listened with every mark of eagerness. This unfortunate speaker had just arrived at the most important part of his narrative, which was, to acquaint the impatient listener where his mistress was concealed, when he unluckily stumbled on a word of six or seven syllables, which completely obstructed the progress of his narration. He attempted it again and again, but always without success. You may have observed that, though many other words would explain his meaning equally well, you may as soon make a Saint change his religion, as prevail on a Stutterer to accept of another word in place of that at which he has stumbled. He adheres to his first word to the last, and will sooner expire with it in his throat, than give it up for any other you may offer. Harlequin, on the present occasion, presented his friend with a dozen; but he rejected them all with disdain, and persisted in his unsuccessful attempts on that which had first come in his way. At length, making a desperate effort, when all the spectators were gaping in expectation of his safe delivery, the cruel word came up with its broad side foremost, and stuck directly across the unhappy mans windpipe. He gaped, and panted, and croaked; his face flushed, and his eyes seemed ready to start from his head. Harlequin unbuttoned the Stutterers waistcoat, and the neck of his shirt; he fanned his face with his cap, and held a bottle of hartshorn to his nose. At length, fearing his patient would expire, before he could give the desired intelligence, in a fit of despair he pitched his head full in the dying mans stomach, and the word bolted out of his mouth to the most distant part of the house. This was performed in a manner so perfectly droll, and the humorous absurdity of the expedient came so unexpectedly upon me, that I immediately burst into a most excessive fit of laughter, in which I was accompanied by the D, and by your young friend Jack, who was along with us; and our laughter continued in such loud, violent, and repeated fits, that the attention of the audience being turned from the stage to our box, occasioned a renewal of the mirth all over the playhouse with greater vociferation than at first. When we returned to the inn, the D of H asked me, If I were as much convinced as ever, that a man must be perfectly devoid of taste, who could condescend to laugh at an Italian comedy? LETTER XXIII. Padua. We were detained at Venice several days longer than we intended, by excessive falls of rain, which rendered the road to Verona impassable. Relinquishing, therefore, the thoughts of visiting that city for the present, the D determined to go to Ferrara by water. For this purpose I engaged two barks; in one of which the chaises, baggage, and some of the servants, proceeded directly to Ferrara, while we embarked in the other for Padua. Having crossed the Lagune, we entered the Brenta, but could continue our route by that river no farther than the village of Doglio, where there is a bridge; but the waters were so much swelled by the late rains, that there was not room for our boat to pass below the arch. Quitting the boat, therefore, till our return, we hired two open chaises, and continued our journey along the banks of the Brenta to Padua. Both sides of this river display gay, luxuriant scenes of magnificence and fertility, being ornamented by a great variety of beautiful villas, the works of Palladio and his disciples. The verdure of the meadows and gardens here is not surpassed by that of England. The Venetian nobility, I am told, live with less restraint, and entertain their friends with greater freedom, at their villas, than at their palaces in town. It is natural to suppose, that a Venetian must feel peculiar satisfaction when his affairs permit him to enjoy the exhilarating view of green fields, and to breathe the free air of the country, As one who long in populous city pent, Where houses thick, and sewers, annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summers morn, to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoind, from each thing met conceives delight. The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy; each rural sight, each rural sound. I confess, for my own part, I never felt the beauty of those lines of Milton with greater sensibility, than when I passed through the charming country which is watered by the Brenta, after having been pent up in the terraqueous town of Venice. As one reason which induced his Grace to visit Padua at this time was, that he might pay his duty to his R H the D of G, we waited on that prince as soon as we had his permission. His R H has been here for some time with his Dss. He was very ill at Venice, and has been advised to remove to this place for the benefit of the air. It is with much satisfaction I add, that he is now out of danger, a piece of intelligence with which you will have it in your power to give pleasure to many people in England. No city in the world has less affinity with the country than Venice, and few can have more than Padua; for great part of the circuit within the walls is unbuilt, and the town in general so thinly inhabited, that grass is seen in many places in the interstices of the stones with which the streets are paved. The houses are built on porticoes, which, when the town was well inhabited, and in a flourishing condition, may have had a magnificent appearance; but, in its present state, they rather give it a greater air of melancholy and of gloom. The Franciscan church, dedicated to St. Antonio, the great patron of this city, was the place we were first led to by the Cicerone of our inn. The body of this holy person is inclosed in a sarcophagus, under an altar in the middle of the chapel, and is said to emit a very agreeable and refreshing flavour. Pious Catholics believe this to be the natural effluvia of the saints body; while Heretics assert, that the perfume (for a perfume there certainly is) proceeds from certain balsams rubbed on the marble every morning, before the votaries come to pay their devotions. I never presume to give an opinion on contested points of this kind; but I may be allowed to say, that if this sweet odour really proceeds from the holy Franciscan, he emits a very different smell from any of the brethren of that order whom I ever had an opportunity of approaching. The walls of this church are covered with votive offerings of ears, eyes, arms, legs, noses, and every part almost of the human body, in token of cures performed by this saint; for whatever part has been the seat of the disease, a representation of it is hung up in silver or gold, according to the gratitude and wealth of the patient. At a small distance from this church is a place called the School of St. Antonio. Here many of the actions of the Saint are painted in fresco; some of them by Titian. Many miracles of a very extraordinary nature are here recorded. I observed one in particular, which, if often repeated, might endanger the peace of families. The Saint thought proper to loosen the tongue of a newborn child, and endue it with the faculty of speech; on which the infant, with an imprudence natural to its age, declared, in an audible voice, before a large company, who was its real father. The miracles attributed to this celebrated Saint greatly exceed in number those recorded by the Evangelists of our Saviour; and although it is not asserted, that St. Antonio has as yet raised himself from the dead, yet his admirers here record things of him which are almost equivalent. When an impious Turk had secretly placed fireworks under the chapel, with an intention to blow it up, they affirm, that St. Antonio hallooed three times from his marble coffin, which terrified the infidel, and discovered the plot. This miracle is the more miraculous, as the Saints tongue was cut out, and is actually preserved in a chrystal vessel, and shewn as a precious relic to all who have a curiosity to see it. I started this as a difficulty which seemed to bear a little against the authenticity of the miracle; and the ingenious person to whom the objection was made, seemed at first somewhat nonplussed; but, after recollecting himself, he observed, that this, which at first seemed an objection, was really a confirmation of the fact; for the Saint was not said to have spoken, but only to have hallooed, which a man can do without a tongue; but if his tongue had not been cut out, added he, there is no reason to doubt that the Saint would have revealed the Turkish plot in plain articulate language. From the Tower of the Franciscan church we had a very distinct view of the beautiful country which surrounds Padua. All the objects, at a little distance, seemed delightful and flourishing; but every thing under our eyes indicated wretchedness and decay. LETTER XXIV. Padua. The next church, in point of rank, but far superior in point of architecture, is that of St. Justina, built from a design of Palladio, and reckoned, by some people, one of the most elegant he ever gave. St. Justina is said to have suffered martyrdom where the church is built, which was the reason of erecting it on that particular spot. It would have been fortunate for the pictures in this church if the Saint had suffered on a piece of drier ground, for they seem considerably injured by the damps which surround the place where it now stands. There is a wide area in front of the church, called the Prato della Valle, where booths and shops are erected for all kinds of merchandise during the fairs. Part of this, which is never allowed to be profaned by the buyers and sellers, is called Campo Santo, because there a great number of Christian martyrs are said to have been put to death. St. Justinas church is adorned with many altars, embellished with sculpture. The pavement is remarkably rich, being a kind of Mosaic work, of marble of various colours. Many other precious materials are wrought as ornaments to this church, but there is one species of jewels in which it abounds, more than, perhaps, any church in Christendom; which is, the bones of martyrs. They have here a whole well full, belonging to those who were executed in the Prato delta Valle; and what is of still greater value, the Benedictines, to whom this church belongs, assert, that they are also in possession of the bodies of the two evangelists St. Matthew and St. Luke. The Franciscans belonging to a convent at Venice dispute the second of those two great prizes, and declare, that they are possessed of the true body of St. Luke, this in St. Justinas church being only an imposture. The matter was referred to the Pope, who gave a decision in favour of one of the bodies; but this does not prevent the proprietors of the other from still persisting in their original claim, so that there is no likelihood of the dispute being finally determined till the day of judgment. The hall of the Townhouse of Padua is one of the largest I ever saw. From the best guess I could make, after stepping it, I should think it about three hundred English feet long, by one hundred in breadth: the emblematic and astrological paintings, by Giotto, are much decayed. This immense hall is on the second floor, and is ornamented with the busts and statues of some eminent persons. The Cenotaph of Livy, the historian, who was a native of Padua, is erected here. The University, formerly so celebrated, is now, like every thing else in this city, on the decline; the Theatre anatomy could contain five or six hundred students, but the voice of the Professor is like that of him who crieth in the wilderness. The licentious spirit of the students, which formerly was carried such unwarrantable lengths, and made it dangerous to walk in the streets of this city at night, is now entirely extinct: it has gradually declined with the numbers of the students. Whether the ardour for literature, for which the students of this university were distinguished, has abated in the same proportion, I cannot determine; but I am informed, that by far the greater number of the young men who now attend the university, are designed for the priesthood, and apply to the study of divinity as a science, for comprehending and preaching the mysterious parts of which, a very small portion of learning has been observed to succeed better, than a great deal. There is a cloth manufactory in this city; and I was told, that the inhabitants of Venice, not excepting the nobles, wear no other cloth than what is made here. This particular manufactory, it may therefore be supposed, succeeds very well; but the excessive number of beggars with which this place swarms, is a strong proof that trade and manufactures in general are by no means in a flourishing condition. In the course of my life I never saw such a number of beggars at one time, as attacked us at the church of St. Antonio. The D of H fell into a mistake, analogous to that of Sable in the Funeral, who complains, that the more money he gave his mourners to look sad, the merrier they looked. His Ggave all he had in his pocket to the clamorous multitude which surrounded him, on condition that they would hold their tongues, and leave us; on which they became more numerous, and more vociferous than before. Strangers who visit Padua will do well, therefore, to observe the gospel injunction, and perform their charities in secret. LETTER XXV. The Po. In my letter from Padua I neglected to mention her high pretensions to antiquity: she claims Antenor, the Trojan, as her founder; and this claim is supported by classical authority. In the first book of the neid, Venus complains to Jupiter, that her son neas is still a vagabond on the seas, while Antenor has been permitted to establish himself, and build a city in Italy. Hic tamen ille urbem Patavi sedesque locavit. Lucan also, in his Pharsalia, describing the augur who read in the skies the events of that decisive day, alludes to the same story of Antenor; Euganeo, si vera fides memorantibus, augur Colle sedens, Aponus terris ubi fumifer exit, Atque Antenorei dispergitur unda Timavi Venit summa dies, geritur res maxima dixit; Impia concurrunt Pompeii et Csaris arma. Some modern critics have asserted, that the two poets have been guilty of a geographical mistake, as the river Timavus empties itself into the Adriatic Gulph near Trieste, about a hundred miles from Padua; and that the Aponus is near Padua, and about the same distance from Timavus. If, therefore, Antenor built a city where the river Timavus rushes into the sea, that city must have been situated at a great distance from where Padua now stands. The Paduan antiquarians, therefore, accuse Virgil, without scruple, of this blunder, that they may retain the Trojan Prince as their ancestor. But those who have more regard for the character of Virgil than the antiquity of Padua, insist upon it, that the poet was in the right, and that the city which Antenor built, was upon the Banks of Timavus, and exactly a hundred miles from modern Padua. As for Lucan, he is left in the lurch by both sides, though, in my poor opinion, we may naturally suppose, that one of the streams which run into Timavus was, at the time he wrote, called Aponus, which vindicates the poet, without weakening the relation between the Paduans and Antenor. The inhabitants of Padua themselves seem to have been a little afraid of trusting their claim entirely to classical authority; for an old sarcophagus having been dug up in the year 1283, with an unintelligible inscription upon it, this was declared to be the tomb of Antenor, and was placed in one of the streets, and surrounded with a ballustrade; and, to put the matter out of doubt, a Latin inscription assures the reader, that it contains the body of the renowned Antenor, who, having escaped from Troy, had drove the Euganei out of the country, and built this identical city of Padua. Though the Paduans find that there are people illnatured enough to assert, that this sarcophagus does not contain the bones of the illustrious Trojan, yet they can defy the malice of those cavillers to prove, that they belong to any other person; upon which negative proof, joined to what has been mentioned above, they rest the merit of their pretensions. After remaining a few days at Padua, we returned to the village of Doglio, where we had left our vessel. We stopped, and visited some of the villas on the banks of the Brenta. The apartments are gay and spacious, and must be delightful in summer; but none of the Italian houses seem calculated for the winter, which, nevertheless, I am informed, is sometimes as severe in this country as in England. Having embarked in our little vessel, we soon entered a canal, of about twentytwo Italian miles in length, which communicates with the Po, and we were drawn along, at a pretty good rate, by two horses. We passed last night in the vessel, as we shall this; for there is no probability of our reaching Ferrara till tomorrow. The banks of this famous river are beautifully fertile. Finding that we could keep up with the vessel, we amused ourselves the greatest part of the day in walking. The pleasure we feel on this classical ground, and the interest we take in all the objects around, is not altogether derived from their own native beauties; a great part of it arises from the magic colouring of poetical description. The accounts we have had lately of the King of Prussias bad health, I suppose, are not true; or if they are, I have good hopes he will recover: I found them on the calm and serene aspect which Eridanus wears at present, which is not the case when the fate of any very great person is depending. You remember, what a rage he was in, and what a tumult he raised, immediately before the death of Julius Csar. Proluit insano contorquens vortice sylvas Fluviorum Rex Eridanus, camposque per omnes: Cum stabulis armenta tulit. Dryden translates these lines, Then rising in his might, the King of Floods Rushd thro the forests, tore the lofty woods; And, rolling onward, with a sweepy sway, Bore houses, herds, and labouring hinds away. Rising in his might is happy, but the rest is not so simple as the original, and much less expressive; there wants the insano contorquens vortice sylvas. It is not surprising that the Po is so much celebrated by the Roman poets, since it is, unquestionably, the finest river in Italy. Where every stream in heavenly numbers flows. It seems to have been the favourite river of Virgil: Gemina auratus taurino cornua vultu Eridanus, quo non alius per pinguia culta In mare purpureum violentior influit amnis. And Mr. Addison, at the sight of this river, is inspired with a degree of enthusiasm, which does not always animate his poetry. Fired with a thousand raptures, I survey, Eridanus thro flowery meadows stray; The King of Floods! that, rolling oer their plains, The towering Alps of half their moisture drains, And, proudly swoln with a whole winters snows, Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows. Notwithstanding all that the Latin poets, and, in imitation of them, those of other nations, have sung of the Po, I am convinced that no river in the world has been so well sung as the Thames. Thou too great father of the British floods! With joyful pride surveyst our lofty woods; Where towring oaks their growing honours rear, And future navies on thy shores appear, Not Neptunes self, from all her streams, receives A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives. No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear; Nor Po so swells the fabling poets lays, While led along the skies his current strays, As thine, which visits Windsors famd abodes. If you are still refractory, and stand up for the panegyrists of the Po, I must call Denham in aid of my argument, and I hope you will have the taste and candour to acknowledge, that the following are, beyond comparison, the noblest lines that ever were written on a river. My eye descending from the hill, surveys Where Thames among the wanton vallies strays, Thames, the most loved of all the Oceans sons, By his old sire, to his embraces runs; Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal Life to meet Eternity. Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold; His genuine and less guilty wealth texplore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore; Oer which he kindly spreads his spacious wing, And hatches plenty for th ensuing spring; Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay, Like mothers which their children overlay. Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave, Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave. No unexpected inundations spoil The mowers hopes, nor mock the plowmans toil: But, godlike, his unwearyd bounty flows: First loves to do, then loves the good he does. Nor are his blessings to his banks confined, But free and common, as the sea or wind; When he, to boast, or to disperse his stores, Full of the tribute of his grateful shores, Visits the world, and in his flying towers, Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours; Finds wealth where tis, bestows it where it wants, Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants. So that, to us, no thing, no place is strange, While his fair bosom is the worlds exchange. O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream, My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage, without oerflowing full. Heaven her Eridanus no more shall boast, Whose fame in thine, like lesser current, s lost. You will suspect that I am hard pushed to make out a letter, when I send you such long quotations from the poets. This, however, is not my only reason. While we remain on the Po, rivers naturally become the subject of my letter. I asserted, that the Thames has been more sublimely sung than the favourite river of classical authors, and I wished to lay some of my strongest proofs before you at once, to save you the trouble of turning to the originals. LETTER XXVI. Ferrara. We arrived here early this morning. The magnificent streets and number of fine buildings shew that this has formerly been a rich and flourishing city. The present inhabitants, however, who are very few in proportion to the extent of the town, bear every mark of poverty. The happiness of the subjects in a despotic government depends much more on the personal character of the sovereign, than in a free state; and the subjects of little Princes, who have but a small extent of territory, are more affected by the good and bad qualities of those Princes, than the inhabitants of great and extensive empires. I had frequent opportunities of making this remark in Germany, where, without having seen the Prince, or heard his character, one may often discover his dispositions and turn of mind, from examining into the circumstances and general situation of the people. When the Prince is vain and luxurious, as he considers himself equal in rank, so he endeavours to vie in magnificence with more powerful sovereigns, and those attempts always terminate in the oppression and poverty of his subjects; but when the Prince, on the other hand, is judicious, active, and benevolent, as the narrow limits of his territories make it easy for him to be acquainted with the real situation and true interest of his subjects, his good qualities operate more directly and effectually for their benefit, than if his dominions were more extensive, and he himself obliged to govern by the agency of ministers. The Duchy of Ferrara was formerly governed by its own Dukes, many of whom happened to be of the character last mentioned, and the Ferrarese was, for several generations, one of the happiest and most flourishing spots in Italy. In the year 1597 it was annexed to the Ecclesiastical State, and has ever since been gradually falling into poverty and decay. It must be owing to some essential error in the Government, when a town like this, situated in a fertile soil, upon a navigable river near the Adriatic, remains in poverty. Except the change of its Sovereign, all the other causes, which I have heard assigned for the poverty of Ferrara, existed in the days of its prosperity. Though the citizens of Ferrara have not been able to preserve their trade and industry, yet they still retain an old privilege of wearing swords by their sides. This privilege extends to the lowest mechanics, who strut about with great dignity. Fencing is the only science in a flourishing condition in this town, which furnishes all the towns in Italy with skilful fencingmasters. Ferrara was famous formerly for a manufactory of swordblades. The Scotch Highlanders, who had a greater demand for swords, and were nicer in the choice of their blades than any other people, used to get them from a celebrated maker in this town, of the name of Andrea di Ferrara. The best kind of broadswords are still called by the Highlanders True Andrew Ferraras. There are two brass statues opposite to one of the principal churches. One is of Nicholo Marquis of Este, and the other of Borso of Este, the first Duke of Ferrara, whose memory is still held in great veneration in this city. I had the curiosity to go to the Benedictine church, merely to see the place where Ariosto lies buried. The degree of importance in which men are held by their cotemporaries and by posterity, is very different. This fine fanciful old bard has done more honour to modern Italy, than fortynine in fifty of the Popes and Princes to which she has given birth, and while those, who were the gaze of the multitude during their lives, are now entirely forgotten, his fame increases with the progress of time. In his lifetime, perhaps, his importance, in the eyes of his countrymen, arose from the protection of the family of Este; now he gives importance, in the eyes of all Europe, to the illustrious names of his patrons, and to the country where he was born. The Emperor, and two of his brothers, lodged lately at the inn where we now are. Our landlord is so vain of this, that he cannot be prevailed on to speak on any other subject; he has entertained me with a thousand particulars about his illustrious guests; it is impossible he should ever forget those anecdotes, for he has been constantly repeating them ever since the Royal Brothers left his house. I asked him what we could have for supper. He answered, That we should sup in the very same room in which his Imperial Majesty had dined. I repeated my question; and he replied, he did not believe there were three more affable Princes in the world. I said, I hoped supper would be soon ready; and he told me, that the Archduke was fond of fricassee, but the Emperor preferred a fowl plain roasted. I said, with an air of impatience, that I should be much obliged to him if he would send in supper. He bowed, and walked to the door; but, before he disappeared, he turned about and assured me, that although his Majesty ate no more than an ordinary man, yet he paid like an Emperor. To perpetuate the memory of this great event, of the Emperor and his two brothers having dined at this house, the landlord got an Ecclesiastic of his acquaintance to compose the following pompous inscription, which is now engraven upon a stone at the door of his inn. QUOD TABERNA HC DIVERSORIA HOSPITES HABUERIT TRES FRATRES CONSILIIS, MORIBUS, ET IN DEUM PIETATE, PRCLAROS, MARI THERES. BOHEMI ET HUNG. REGIN, c. c. ET TANT MATRIS VIRTUTI SIMILLIMOS MAXIMILIANUM AUSTRI ARCHIDUCEM, CEN ET QUIETATIS CAUSA, TERTIO CALEND. JUNII M.DCC.LXXV. DIE POSTERO PRANDIUM SUMPTUROS PETRUM LEOP. MAGN. HETRUC. DUCEM, ET JOSEPHUM SECUND. ROM. IMPERATOREM, SECULI NOSTRI ORNAMENTUM ET DECUS, NE TEMPORIS LONGITUDO HUJUSCE LOCI FELICITATEM OBLITERET PERENNE HOC MONUMENTUM. No three persons ever acquired immortality on easier terms: it has only cost them one nights lodging at an indifferent inn, when better quarters could not be had. LETTER XXVII. Bologna. When we left Ferrara, our landlord insisted on our taking six horses to each chaise, on account of the badness of the roads, the soil about the town being moist and heavy. I attempted to remonstrate that four would be sufficient; but he cut me short, by protesting, that the roads were so very deep, that he would not allow the best friend he had in the world, not even the Emperor himself, were he there in person, to take fewer than six. There was no more to be said after this; the same argument would have been irresistible, had he insisted on our taking twelve. As you draw near to Bologna, the country gradually improves in cultivation; and, for some miles before you enter the town, seems one continued garden. The vineyards are not divided by hedges, but by rows of elms and mulberry trees; the vines hanging in a most beautiful picturesque manner, in festoons from one tree to another. This country is not only fertile in vines, but likewise in corn, olives, and pasturage, and has, not without foundation, acquired the name of Bologna la Grassa. This town is well built, and populous; the number of inhabitants amounting to seventy, or perhaps eighty thousand. The houses in general have lofty porticoes, which would have a better effect if the streets were not so narrow; but in this particular, magnificence is sacrificed to conveniency; for, in Italy, shade is considered as a luxury. The Duchy of Bologna had conditions granted to it, upon submitting to the Papal dominion. Those conditions have been observed with a degree of punctuality and good faith, which many zealous Protestants would not expect in the Church of Rome. Bologna retains the name of a republic, sends an ambassador to the Popes court, and the word Libertas is inscribed on the arms and coin of the State, with the flattering capitals S. P. Q. B. The civil government and police of the town is allowed to remain in the hands of the magistrates, who are chosen by the Senate, which formerly consisted of forty members; but since this republic came under the protection, as it is called, of the Pope, he thought proper to add ten more, but the whole fifty still retain the name of the Quaranta. Mankind, in general, are more alarmed by a change of name, in things which they have long regarded with veneration, than by a real change in the nature of the things themselves. The Pope may have had some good political reason for augmenting the number of the council to fifty; but he could have none for calling them the Council of Fifty, if the people chose rather to call fifty men assembled together the Council of Forty. One of the Senators presides in the Senate, and is called the Gonfalonier; from his carrying the standard (Gonfalone) of the republic. He is chief magistrate, is attended by guards, and is constantly at the palace, or near it, to be ready on any emergency; but he remains only two months in office, and the Senators take it by turns. In the midst of all this appearance of independency, a Cardinal Legate from Rome governs this republic: he is appointed by the Pope, with a Vice Legate, and other assistants. The orders which the Legate issues, are supposed to be with the approbation of the Senate; at least, they are never disputed by that prudent body of men. The office, which is of higher dignity than any other now in the gift of the Court of Rome, continues for three years: at the expiration of that time, his Holiness either appoints a new Legate, or confirms the old one in the office for three years longer. This ecclesiastical Viceroy lives in great magnificence, and has a numerous suite of pages, equerries, and halberdiers, who attend him in the city. When he goes into the country, he is accompanied by guards on horseback. The Gonfalonier and magistrates regulate all the usual matters which regard the police, and decide, in common causes, according to the laws and ancient forms of the republic; but there is no doubt that, in affairs of great importance, and, indeed, as often as he chooses to interfere, the Cardinal Legate influences decisions. This must be mortifying to the Senators and noble families, but is less felt by the people in general, who have every appearance of living under a mild and beneficent Government. The inhabitants of Bologna carry on a very considerable trade in silks and velvets, which are manufactured here in great perfection. The country produces immense quantities of oil, wine, flax, and hemp; and furnishes all Europe with sausages, Macaroni, liqueurs, and essences. The people seem to be industrious, and to be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labour; the markets are most plentifully supplied with provisions; fruit is to be had in great variety, and all excellent in its kind; the common wine of the country is a light white wine of an agreeable taste, which strangers prefer to any of the French or German wines to be had here. Those who are not pleased with the entertainment they meet with at the inns in this city, it will be a difficult matter to please; they must be possessed of a degree of such nicety, both in their palates and tempers, as will render them exceedingly troublesome to themselves and others, not only in their travels through Italy, but in the whole course of their journey through life. There are a great number of palaces in this city. What is called the Public Palace, is, by far, the most spacious, but not the most elegant. In this the Cardinal Legate is lodged. There are also apartments for the Gonfalonier; and halls, or chambers, for some of the courts of justice. This building, though of a gloomy and irregular form without, contains some very magnificent apartments, and a few good pictures: the most esteemed are, a large one, by Guido, of the Virgin, and the infant Jesus, seated on the rainbow; a Sampson, by Guido also, refreshing himself with the water which issues from the jawbone with which he has just defeated the Philistines; and a St. John the Baptist, by Raphael, a duplicate of that in the Palais Royal at Paris, but thought, by some connoisseurs, greatly inferior. For my part, I think it is to be regretted, that this great painter did not employ the time he spent on one of them, at least, on some subject more worthy of his talents. A single figure, unemployed, can never please so much as a groupe, occupied in some interesting action. It is a pity that a painter, capable, even in a moderate degree, of exciting the passions, should confine his talents to solitary figures. How much more unworthy of him who possessed all the sublimity and pathos of the art! On his arrival at this town, the first object which strikes the eye of a stranger, is a noble marble fountain, in the area before the Palazzo Publico. The principal figure is a statue of Neptune, eleven feet in height; one of his hands is stretched out before him, in the other he holds the Trident. The body and limbs are finely proportioned, the anatomy perfect, the character of the countenance severe and majestic. This figure of Neptune, as well as all the others of boys, dolphins, and syrens, which surround it, are in bronze. The whole is the workmanship of Giovanni di Bologna, and is highly esteemed; yet there seems to be an impropriety in making water flow in streams from the breasts of the sea nymphs, or syrens. Over the entrance of the Legates palace, is a bronze statue of a Pope. The tiara, and other parts of the Papal uniform, are not so favourable to the sculptors genius, as the naked simplicity in which Neptune appears. A female traveller, however, not extravagantly fond of the fine arts, would rather be observed admiring the sculptors skill in imitating the folds of the Sacerdotal robes, than his anatomical accuracy in forming the majestic proportions of the Sea Divinity. LETTER XXVIII. Bologna. The university of Bologna is one of the most ancient and most celebrated seats of literature in Europe; and the academy for the arts and sciences, founded by the Count Marsigli at the beginning of the present century, is sufficient, of itself, to engage strangers to visit this city, if there was nothing else worthy of their curiosity. Over the gate of this magnificent edifice is the following liberal inscription: BONONIENSE SCIENTIARUM ATQUE ARTIUM INSTITUTUM AD PUBLICUM TOTIUS ORBIS USUM. Here is a most valuable library, in three spacious rooms, where any person may study, and have the use of the books, four hours every day; also apartments for the students of sculpture, painting, architecture, chemistry, anatomy, astronomy, and every branch of natural philosophy. They are all ornamented with designs, models, instruments, and every kind of apparatus requisite for illustrating those sciences. There are also Professors, who regularly read lectures, and instruct the students in those various parts of knowledge. There is a hall, full of models in architecture and fortification, a valuable collection of medals, and another of natural curiosities, as animals, earths, ores, minerals, and a complete collection of specimens, to assist the study of the Materia Medica, and every part of Natural History. A gallery of statues, consisting of a few originals, and very fine casts of the best statues in Italy. I went one evening to the academy of painting and sculpture; two men stood in different attitudes on a table, in the middle of the room; about fifty students sat in the amphitheatre around them, some drawing their figures in chalks, others modelling them in wax, or clay. As each student viewed the two men from different points, the variety of manner in the different students, together with the alteration in the Chiaro Scuro under each point of view, gave every drawing the appearance of being done from a different figure. Nothing can be so advantageous to the young student as this kind of exercise, which is sometimes practised by daylight, and sometimes by the light of lamps, and must give a fuller idea of the effect of light and shade than any other method. Honorary premiums are distributed every year among the artists, for the best designs in painting, sculpture, and architecture. The Anatomical Theatre is adorned with statues of celebrated physicians; and in the Museum, which belongs to it, there are abundance of anatomical preparations; also a complete suite of anatomical figures in wax. A man and woman in the natural state; the same with the skin and cellular membrane removed, the external muscles of the whole body and limbs appearing. In the subsequent figures the more external muscles are gradually removed, till nothing but the simple skeleton remains. These figures are very well rendered, preserving the natural appearance and situation of the muscles and bloodvessels, with as much exactness as could be expected in a work of this nature. There are also models in wax, of particular parts, and of several of the viscera of the human body separately; yet those waxen models could not stand in comparison with the preparations of the real parts in Dr. Hunters museum. If brought to that test, the Bologna waxworks, though admirable in their kind, would appear as their best casts of the Vatican Apollo and Laocoon would, if placed beside the originals. Indeed, the real preparations to be seen here, are far inferior to those of that great anatomist; who is now possessed of the most complete, and most accurate collection of anatomical preparations, that ever was made by human skill and industry. We have faithfully performed our duty in visiting all the churches and palaces of this city, which contain some of the highest specimens of art; yet, as the recital might be less amusing than the tour itself, I shall exercise your patience with great moderation on that subject. The church of St. Petronius forms part of that large, irregular square, in which the fountain, formerly mentioned, stands; it is the largest in Bologna. In the pavement of this church, Cassini drew his meridian line; and within the walls of this same edifice the Emperor Charles the Fifth was crowned. Those circumstances may interest the astronomer, and the historian; but the statue of a soldier, which stands in one of the chapels, engages the attention of the pious Catholic. This man, being at play, and in danger of losing all his money, offered up a very fervent prayer to the Virgin Mary, for a little better luck; to which she, who never shewed any favour to gamesters, turned a deaf ear. When he found that his bad fortune continued, this furious wretch drew his sword, and wounded both the Virgin, and the Infant in her arms. He instantly, as you may suppose, fell to the ground, deprived of motion; he was carried to prison, and condemned to an ignominious and painful death. While he remained under confinement, he came to a proper sense of his wickedness; and the blessed Virgin was so much softened by his repentance, that she restored him to the life of his limbs; and the Judges, taking the hint, gave him a full pardon. As a satisfactory proof of this memorable event, they shew the identical sword with which the assault was made. A Dominican convent, situated on the top of a hill, about three miles from this city, is in possession of a portrait of the Virgin, by St. Luke. It is not perfectly known how it came there; any enquiry of that nature savours of heresy, and might give offence. The people in general are persuaded of its originality, and happy in the honour of such a neighbour. This portrait has wrought many miracles in favour of the inhabitants of Bologna. A curious gallery, open to the south, and closed by a wall to the north, is built all the way from this city to the convent. On the open side it is supported by a long row of pillars, and was erected by voluntary contribution, in honour of the Virgin, and for the conveniency of pilgrims. This long colonade is about twelve feet in breadth, from the pillars to the wall, and of a convenient height; all the communities of the town walk once a year, in solemn procession, to the convent, and bring the holy picture to visit the city. It is carried through the principal streets, attended by every inhabitant who can afford to purchase a wax taper. During this procession, the bells continue ringing, the cannon are fired; and the troops under arms observe the same ceremonies, when the picture passes, as if it were Commander in Chief of the forces. The common people imagine, the picture is extremely fond of this annual visit to the town of Bologna; they even are convinced, that, if it were not carried, it would descend from the frame, and walk the whole way on foot; but they do not desire to see the experiment made, both because it might disoblige the Virgin, and because, if the picture were once set a walking, there is no knowing where it would stop. Though the nobility of Bologna are not now very rich, many of their palaces are furnished in a magnificent taste, and contain paintings of great value. The palaces were built, and ornamented, when the proprietors were richer, and when the finest works of architecture and painting could be procured on easier terms than at present. The galleries, and apartments, are spacious and magnificent; yet there are circumstances in the most splendid, that must hurt the eye of those who are accustomed to that perfect exactness in finishing which prevails in English houses. The glass of the windows of some palaces is divided into little square panes, which are joined together by lead; and the floors of all are so very indifferently laid, that you often feel a loose brick shaking under your feet as you walk through the finest apartments. The most precious ornaments of the palaces are the paintings, particularly those of the celebrated masters which this city had the honour of producing. Raphael is generally allowed to have excelled all painters in the sublimity of his ideas, the grouping of his figures, the beauty of his heads, the elegance of his forms, and the correctness of his outlines; yet, in the opinion of some, he has oftener imitated those noble ideas of beauty, transmitted to us by the Greek sculptors, than what he saw, or could observe, in nature. Those who hold this opinion assert, that the best masters of the Lombard School studied, with equal assiduity, the elegance of the antique statues, and the simplicity of nature; and from this combined attention to both, with geniuses less sublime, and not so universal, as that of the Roman painter, they have produced works equal, if not superior in some respects, to his. In all this, I beg you may keep in your remembrance, that I am not affecting to give any opinion of my own, but merely repeating the sentiments of others. Next to Rome itself, there is, perhaps, no town in the world so rich in paintings as Bologna. The churches and palaces, besides many admired pieces by other masters, are full of the works of the great masters who were natives of this city. I must not lead you among those masterpieces; it is not for so poor a judge as I am to point the peculiar excellencies of the Caraccis, Dominichino, Albano, or compare the energy of Guercinos pencil with the grace of Guidos. With regard to the last, I shall venture to say, that the graceful air of his young men, the elegant forms, and mild persuasive devotion, of his Madonas; the art with which, to all the inviting loveliness of female features, he joins all the gentleness and modesty which belong to the female character, are the peculiar excellencies of this charming painter. It requires no knowledge in the art of painting, no connoisseurship, to discover those beauties in the works of Guido; all who have eyes, and a heart, must see and feel them. But the picture more admired than all the rest, and considered, by the judges, as his masterpiece, owes its eminence to a different kind of merit; it can claim none from any of the circumstances above enumerated. The piece I mean is in the Sampieri palace, and distinguished by a silk curtain, which hangs before it. The subject is, the Repentance of St. Peter, and consists of two figures, that of the Saint who weeps, and a young apostle who endeavours to comfort him. The only picture at Bologna, which can dispute celebrity with this, is that of St. Cecilia, in the church of St. Georgio in Monte. This picture is greatly praised by Mr. Addison, and is reckoned one of Raphaels capital pieces. If I had nothing else to convince me that I had no judgment in painting, this would be sufficient. I have examined it over and over with great attention, and a real desire of discovering its superlative merit; and I have the mortification to find, that I cannot perceive it.After this confession, I presume you will not desire to hear any thing farther from me on the subject of painting. LETTER XXIX. Ancona. In our way from Bologna to this place, we passed through Ravenna, a disagreeable town, though at one period the seat of empire; for, after Attila had left Italy, Valentinian chose Ravenna, in preference to Rome, for his residence, that he might always be ready to repel the Huns and other Barbarians, who poured from the banks of the Danube, and prevent their penetrating into Italy. The same reason afterwards induced Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths, to keep his court at this city of Ravenna, after he had defeated and killed Odoacer, and assumed the title of King of Rome. The ruins of his palace and his tomb now form part of the antiquities of Ravenna; among which I shall not detain you a moment, but proceed to the river of Pisatello, the famous Rubicon, which lies between this town and Rimini, and was the ancient boundary between Italy and Cisalpine Gaul. No Roman, returning to Rome, could pass in arms beyond this, without being deemed an enemy to his country. The small town of Cesenate is situated near this brook, and the inhabitants value themselves not a little upon their vicinity to so celebrated a neighbour. But the people of Rimini have had the malice to endeavour to deprive them of this satisfaction: they affirm, that the rivulet Lusa, which is farther removed from Cesenate, and nearer to themselves, is the true Rubicon. I have considered this controversy with all the attention it merits; and I am of opinion, that the pretensions of Pisatello, which is also called Rugone, are the best founded. That you may not suspect my being influenced in my judgment by any motives but those of justice, I beg leave to inform you, that it is a matter of no importance to me which of the rivers is the real Rubicon, for we had the honour of passing both in our way to Rimini. What Suetonius mentions concerning Csars hesitation when he arrived at the banks of this river, does not agree with what the historian says a little before. Quidam putant captum Imperii consuetudine, pensitatisque suis  inimicorum viribus, usum occasione rapiend dominationis, quam tate prima concupisset. And this, he adds, was the opinion of Cicero, who says, that Csar had often in his mouth this verse: Nam si violandum est jus, regnandi gratia Violandum est, aliis rebus pietatem colas. It is most probable, that Csar took his resolution to cross the Rubicon as soon as Antony and Curio arrived in his camp, and afforded him a plausible pretext, by informing him and the army of the violent manner in which they had been driven from Rome by the Consul Lentulus and the adherents of Pompey. As for the phantom, which Suetonius informs us determined the Dictator while he was yet in hesitation, we may either consider it intirely as a fiction, or as a scene previously arranged by himself to encourage his army, who may be supposed to have had scruples in disobeying a decree of the Senate; which declared those persons sacrilegious and parricides, devoting them at the same time to the infernal gods, who should pass over this river in arms. Csar was not of a character to be disturbed with religious scruples; he never delayed an enterprise, we are told, on account of unfavourable omens. Ne religione quidem ulla a quoquam incepto absterritus unquam vel retardatus est. Quum immolanti aufugisset hostia, profectionem adversus Scipionem  Jubam non distulit, c. c. This hesitation, therefore, which is mentioned both by Suetonius and Plutarch, has no resemblance with the ambitious and decisive character of Julius Csar; the picture which Lucan has drawn of him has much more spirit, and in all probability more likeness. Csar ut adversam superato gurgite ripam, Attigit, Hesperi vetitis  constitit arvis, Hic, ait, hic pacem, temerataque jura relinquo; Te, Fortuna, sequor; procul hinc jam fdera sunto. Credidimus fatis, utendum est judice bello. Sic fatus, noctis tenebris rapit agmina ductor Impiger,  torto Ballaris verbere fund Ocyor,  missa Parthi post terga sagitta; Vicinumque minax invadit Ariminum Though Rimini is in a state of great decay, there are some monuments of antiquity worthy the attention of the curious traveler. It is the ancient Ariminum, the first town of which Csar took possession after passing the Rubicon. In the marketplace there is a kind of stone pedestal, with an inscription, declaring, that on it Csar had stood and harangued his army; but the authenticity of this is not ascertained to the satisfaction of antiquarians. We next passed through Pesaro, a very agreeable town, better built and paved than the other towns we have seen on the Adriatic shore. In the marketplace there is a handsome fountain, and a statue of Pope Urban the Eighth, in a sitting posture. In the churches of this town there are some pictures by Baroccio, a painter, whose works some people esteem very highly, and who is thought to have imitated the manner of Raphael and the tints of Correggio, not without success. He lived about the middle of the sixteenth century, and his colours seem to have improved by time. I say, seem; for, in reality, all colours lose by time: but the operation of sun and air on pictures bringing all the colours to a kind of unison, occasions what is called Harmony, and is thought an improvement on some pictures. This road, along the Adriatic coast, is extremely pleasant. From Pesaro we proceeded to Fano, a little town, of nearly the same size, but more populous. It derives its name from a Temple of Fortune Fanum Fortun, which stood here in the time of the Romans. All the towns of Italy, however religious they may be, are proud of their connections with those celebrated heathens. An image of the Goddess Fortune is erected on the fountain in the marketplace, and the inhabitants show some ruins, which they pretend belong to the ancient Temple of Fortune; but what cannot be disputed, are the ruins of a triumphal arch in white marble, erected in honour of Augustus, and which was greatly damaged by the artillery of Pope Paul the Second, when he besieged this town in the year 1463. The churches of this town are adorned with some excellent pictures; there is one particularly in the cathedral church, by Guercino, which is much admired. The subject is the marriage of Joseph: it consists of three principal figures; the High Priest, Joseph, and the Virgin. A few miles beyond Fano, we crossed the river Metro, where Claudius Nero, the Roman Consul, defeated Asdrubal, the brother of Hannibal. This was, perhaps, the most important victory that ever was gained by a Roman General; for, had Asdrubal been victorious, or been able to effect a junction with his brother, the troops he brought from Spain would have become of triple value as soon as they were under the direction of Hannibal; and it is not improbable that, with such a reinforcement, that most consummate General would have put an end to the Roman State; the glory of Carthage would have begun where that of Rome ended; and the history of the world would have been quite different from what it is. Horace seems sensible of the infinite importance of this victory, and proclaims with a fine poetic enthusiasm, the obligations which Rome owed to the family of the hero who obtained it, and the terror which, before that time, Hannibal had spread over all Italy. Quid debeas, O Roma, Neronibus, Testis Metaurum flumen, et Asdrubal Devictus, et pulcher fugatis Ille dies Latio tenebris, Qui primus alm risit adore; Dirus per urbes Afer ut Italas, Ceu flamma per tedas, vel Eurus Per Siculas equitavit undas. We came next to Senegallia, another seaport town upon this coast. There is nothing remarkable in this town, except during the time of the fair, which is held there once a year, to which a great concourse of merchants resort, from Venice, and all the towns on both sides of the Adriatic; also from Sicily, and the Archipelago. England carries on a very profitable trade with all the towns in Romagnia, from which our merchants purchase great quantities of raw silk, and afterwards sell it, when manufactured, to the inhabitants. They provide them also in English cotton and linen cloths, of every kind. The distance between Senegallia and Ancona, is about fifteen miles. We travelled most of this road after it was dark, much against the inclination of the Italian servants, who assured us, that it is often infested with robbers. Those fellows, they told us, come sometimes from the coast of Dalmatia, attack travellers on this road, carry what booty can be got, on board their boats, which are never at a great distance, and then sail to the opposite shore, or to some other part of the coast. As we travelled slowly over the sandy road, some men, in sailors dresses, overtook us. Our Italians were convinced they belonged to the gang of pirates, or robbers, they had spoken of. Our company was too numerous to be attacked; but they attempted, secretly, to cut off the trunks from the chaises, without succeeding. LETTER XXX. Ancona. Ancona is said to have been founded by Syracusans who had fled from the tyranny of Dionysius. The town originally was built upon a hill, but the houses have been gradually extended down the face of the eminence, towards the sea. The cathedral stands on the highest part; from whence there is a most advantageous view of the town, the country, and the sea. This church is supposed to be placed on the spot where a temple, dedicated to Venus, formerly stood; the same mentioned by Juvenal, when he speaks of a large turbot caught on this coast, and presented to the Emperor Domitian. Incidit Adriaci spatium admirabile rhombi, Ante domum Veneris, quam Dorica sustinet Ancon. The ascents and descents, and great inequality of the ground, will prevent this from being a beautiful town, but it has much the appearance of becoming a rich one. Some of the nobility have the firmness and good sense to despise an ancient prejudice, and avowedly prosecute commerce. New houses are daily building, and the streets are animated with the bustle of trade. I met with several English traders on the Change, which seemed crowded with seafaring men, and merchants, from Dalmatia, Greece, and many parts of Europe. There are great numbers of Jews established in this city. I know not whether this race of men contribute greatly to the prosperity of a country; but it is generally remarked, that those places are in a thriving condition to which they resort. They have a synagogue here, and although all religions are tolerated, theirs is the only foreign worship allowed to be publicly exercised. The commerce of Ancona has increased very rapidly of late years; and it is evident, that the Popes who first thought of making it a free port, of encouraging manufactures, and of building a mole, to render the harbour more safe, have injured Venice in a more sensible manner, than those who thundered bulls against that republic; but it is much to be questioned, whether the former, by their encouragements to commerce, have augmented their own spiritual importance in the same proportion they have the temporal riches of their subjects. Men who have received a liberal education, and have adopted liberal sentiments previous to their engaging in any particular profession, will carry these sentiments along with them through life: and, perhaps, there is no profession in which they can be exercised with more advantage and utility, than in that of a merchant. In this profession, a man of the character above described, while he is augmenting his own private fortune, will enjoy the agreeable reflection, that he is likewise increasing the riches and power of his country, and giving bread to thousands of his industrious countrymen. Of all professions, his is in its nature the most independent: the merchant does not, like the soldier, receive wages from his sovereign; nor, like the lawyer and physician, from his fellowsubjects. His wealth often flows from foreign sources, and he is under no obligation to those from whom it is derived. The habit which he is in, of circulating millions, makes him lay less stress on a few guineas, than the proprietors of the largest estates; and we daily see, particularly in countries where this profession is not considered as degrading, the commercial part of the inhabitants giving the most exalted proofs of generosity and public spirit. But in countries where nobody, who has the smallest claim to the title of a gentleman, can engage in commerce without being thought to have demeaned himself, fewer examples of this nature will be found: and in every country, it must be acknowledged, that those who have not had the advantage of a liberal education; who have been bred from their infancy to trade; who have been taught to consider money as the most valuable of all things, and to value themselves, and others, in proportion to the quantity they possess; who are continually revolving in their minds, to the exclusion of all other ideas, the various means of increasing their stock; to such people, money becomes a more immediate and direct object of attention, than to any other class of men; it swells in their imagination, is rated beyond its real worth, and, at length, by an inversion of the Christian precept, it is considered as the one thing needful, to be sought with the most unremitting ardour, that all other things may be added thereunto. In commercial towns, where every body finds employment, and is agitated by the bustle of business, the minds of the inhabitants are apt to be so much engrossed with the affairs of this world, as almost to forget that there is another; and neither the true religion nor false ones, have such hold of their minds, as in places where there is more poverty, and less worldly occupation. In the first, they consider the remonstrances of priests and confessors as interruptions to business; and, without daring to despise the ceremonies of religion, like the speculative Sceptic or Infidel, the hurried trader huddles them over as fast as possible, that he may return to occupations more congenial with the habit of his mind. The preachers may cry aloud, and spare not; they may lift up their voices like trumpets, proclaiming the nothingness of this world, and all which it contains; it is in vain. Men who have been trained to the pursuit of money from their childhood, who have bestowed infinite pains to acquire it, and who derive all their importance from it, must naturally have a partiality for this world, where riches procure so many flattering distinctions; and a prejudice against that in which they procure none: but in towns where there is little trade, and great numbers of poor people, where they have much spare time, and small comfort in this world, the clergy have an easier task, if they are tolerably assiduous, in turning the attention of the inhabitants to the other. In Roman Catholic towns of this description, we see the people continually pacing up and down the streets, with wax tapers in their hands. They listen, with fond attention, to all the priest relates concerning that invisible country, that Land of Promise, where their hopes are placed; they ruminate, with complacency, on the happy period when they also shall have their good things; they bear their present rags with patience, in expectation of the white raiment and crowns of gold, which, they are told, await them; they languish for the happiness of being promoted to that lofty situation, from whence they may look down, with scorn, on those to whom they now look up with envy, and where they shall retaliate on their wealthy neighbours, whose riches, at present, they imagine, insult their own poverty. This town being exposed, by the nature of its commerce with Turkey, to the contagious diseases which prevail in that country, Clement XII., as soon as he determined to make it a free port, erected a lazzaretto. It advances a little way into the sea, is in the form of a pentagon, and is a very noble, as well as useful, edifice. He afterwards began a work, as necessary, and still more expensive; I mean the Mole built in the sea, to screen the vessels in the harbour from the winds, which frequently blow from the opposite shore of the Adriatic with great violence. This was carried on with redoubled spirit by Benedict XIV. after his quarrel with Venice, has been continued by the succeeding Popes, and is now almost finished. This building was founded in the ruins of the ancient Mole, raised by the Emperor Trajan. The stone of Istria was used at first, till the exportation of it was prohibited by the republic of Venice, who had no reason to wish well to this work. But a quarry of excellent stone was afterwards found near Ancona, as fit for the purpose; and a kind of sand, which, when mixed with lime, forms a composition as hard as any stone, is brought from the neighbourhood of Rome; and no other is used for this building, which is above two thousand feet in length, one hundred in breadth, and about sixty in depth, from the surface of the sea. A stupendous work, more analogous to the power and revenues of ancient, than of modern, Rome. Near to this stands the Triumphal Arch, as it is called, of Trajan. This is an honorary monument, erected in gratitude to that Emperor, for the improvements he made in this harbour at his own expence. Next to the Maison Quarre at Nmes, it is the most beautiful and the most entire monument of Roman taste and magnificence I have yet seen. The fluted Corinthian pillars on the two sides are of the finest proportions; and the Parian marble of which they are composed, instead of having acquired a black colour, like the Ducal palace of Venice, and other buildings of marble, is preserved, by the sea vapour, as white and shining as if it were fresh polished from the rock. I viewed this charming piece of antiquity with sentiments of pleasure and admiration, which sprang from a recollection of the elegant taste of the artist who planned this work, the humane amiable virtues of the great man to whose honour it was raised, and the grandeur and policy of the people who, by such rewards, prompted their Princes to wise and beneficent undertakings. LETTER XXXI. Loretto. The road from Ancona to this place runs through a fine country, composed of a number of beautiful hills and intervening vallies. Loretto itself is a small town, situated on an eminence, about three miles from the sea. I expected to have found it a more magnificent, at least a more commodious, town for the entertainment of strangers. The innkeepers do not disturb the devotion of the pilgrims by the luxuries of either bed or board. I have not seen worse accommodations since I entered Italy, than at the inn here. This seems surprising, considering the great resort of strangers. If any town in England were as much frequented, every third or fourth house would be a neat inn. The Holy Chapel of Loretto, all the world knows, was originally a small house in Nazareth, inhabited by the Virgin Mary, in which she was saluted by the Angel, and where she bred our Saviour. After their deaths, it was held in great veneration by all believers in Jesus, and at length consecrated into a chapel, and dedicated to the Virgin; upon which occasion St. Luke made that identical image, which is still preserved here, and dignified with the name of our Lady of Loretto. This sanctified edifice was allowed to sojourn in Galilee as long as that district was inhabited by Christians; but when infidels got possession of the country, a band of angels, to save it from pollution, took it in their arms, and conveyed it from Nazareth to a castle in Dalmatia. This fact might have been called in question by incredulous people, had it been performed in a secret manner; but, that it might be manifest to the most shortsighted spectator, and evident to all who were not perfectly deaf as well as blind, a blaze of celestial light, and a concert of divine music, accompanied it during the whole journey; besides, when the angels, to rest themselves, set it down in a little wood near the road, all the trees of the forest bowed their heads to the ground, and continued in that respectful posture as long as the Sacred Chapel remained among them. But, not having been entertained with suitable respect at the castle above mentioned, the same indefatigable angels carried it over the sea, and placed it in a field belonging to a noble lady, called Lauretta, from whom the Chapel takes its name. This field happened unfortunately to be frequented at that time by highwaymen and murderers: a circumstance with which the angels undoubtedly were not acquainted when they placed it there. After they were better informed, they removed it to the top of a hill belonging to two brothers, where they imagined it would be perfectly secure from the dangers of robbery or assassination; but the two brothers, the proprietors of the ground, being equally enamoured of their new visitor, became jealous of each other, quarrelled, fought, and fell by mutual wounds. After this fatal catastrophe, the angels in waiting finally moved the Holy Chapel to the eminence where it now stands, and has stood these four hundred years, having lost all relish for travelling. To silence the captious objections of cavillers, and give full satisfaction to the candid inquirer, a deputation of respectable persons was sent from Loretto to the city of Nazareth, who, previous to their setting out, took the dimensions of the Holy House with the most scrupulous exactness. On their arrival at Nazareth, they found the citizens scarcely recovered from their astonishment; for it may be easily supposed, that the sudden disappearance of a house from the middle of a town, would naturally occasion a considerable degree of surprise, even in the most philosophic minds. The landlords had been alarmed in a particular manner, and had made enquiries, and offered rewards, all over Galilee, without having been able to get any satisfactory account of the fugitive. They felt their interest much affected by this incident; for, as houses had never before been considered as moveables, their value fell immediately. This indeed might be partly owing to certain evilminded persons, who, taking advantage of the public alarm, for selfish purposes, circulated a report, that several other houses were on the wing, and would most probably disappear in a few days. This affair being so much the object of attention at Nazareth, and the builders of that city declaring, they would as soon build upon quicksand as on the vacant space which the Chapel had left at its departure, the deputies from Loretto had no difficulty in discovering the foundation of that edifice, which they carefully compared with the dimensions they had brought from Loretto, and found that they tallied exactly. Of this they made oath at their return; and in the mind of every rational person, it remains no longer a question, whether this is the real house which the Virgin Mary inhabited, or not. Many of those particulars are narrated with other circumstances in books which are sold here; but I have been informed of one circumstance, which has not hitherto been published in any book, and which, I dare swear, you will think ought to be made known for the befit of future travellers. This morning, immediately before we left the inn, to visit the Holy Chapel, an Italian servant, whom the D of H engaged at Venice, took me aside, and told me, in a very serious manner, that strangers were apt secretly to break off little pieces of the stone belonging to the Santa Casa, in the hopes that such precious relics might bring them good fortune; but he earnestly entreated me not to do any such thing: for he knew a man at Venice, who had broken off a small corner of one of the stones, and slipt it into his breeches pocket unperceived; but, so far from bringing him good fortune, it had burnt its way out, like aqua fortis, before he left the Chapel, and scorched his thighs in such a miserable manner, that he was not able to sit on horseback for a month. I thanked Giovanni for his obliging hint, and assured him I should not attempt any theft of that nature. LETTER XXXII. Loretto. The Sacred Chapel stands due east and west, at the farther end of a large church of the most durable stone of Istria, which has been built around it. This may be considered as the external covering, or as a kind of great coat to the Casa Santa, which has a smaller coat of more precious materials and workmanship nearer its body. This internal covering, or case, is of the choicest marble, after a plan of San Savinos, and ornamented with basso relievos, the workmanship of the best sculptors which Italy could furnish in the reign of Leo the Tenth. The subject of those basso relievos are, the history of the Blessed Virgin, and other parts of the Bible. The whole case is about fifty feet long, thirty in breadth, and the same in height; but the real house itself is no more than thirtytwo feet in length, fourteen in breadth, and at the sides, about eighteen feet in height; the centre of the roof is four or five feet higher. The walls of this little Holy Chapel are composed of pieces of a reddish substance, of an oblong square shape, laid one upon another, in the manner of brick. At first sight, on a superficial view, these redcoloured oblong substances appear to be nothing else than common Italian bricks; and, which is still more extraordinary, on a second and third view, with all possible attention, they still have the same appearance. There is not, however, as we were assured, a single particle of brick in their whole composition, being entirely of a stone, which, though it cannot now be found in Palestine, was formerly very common, particularly in the neighbourhood of Nazareth. There is a small interval between the walls of the ancient house, and the marble case. The workmen, at first, intended them to be in contact, from an opinion, founded either upon gross ignorance or infidelity, that the former stood in need of support from the latter; but the marble either started back of itself, from such impious familiarity, being conscious of its unworthiness; or else was thrust back by the coyness of the Virgin brick, it is not said which. But it has certainly kept at a proper distance ever since. While we examined the basso relievos of the marble case, we were not a little incommoded by the numbers of pilgrims who were constantly crawling around it on their knees, kissing the ground, and saying their prayers with great fervour. As they crept along, they discovered some degree of eagerness to be nearest the wall; not, I am persuaded, with a view of saving their own labour, by contracting the circumference of their circuit; but from an idea that the evolutions they were performing, would be the more beneficial to their souls, the nearer they were to the Sacred House. This exercise is continued in proportion to the zeal and strength of the patient. Above the door there is an inscription; by which it appears, that any person who enters with arms is, ipso facto, excommunicated. INGREDIENTES CUM ARMIS SUNT EXCOMMUNICATI. There are also the severest denunciations against those who carry away the smallest particle of the stone and mortar belonging to this Chapel. The adventure of the burnt breeches, and others of a similar nature, which are industriously circulated, have contributed as much as any denunciation, to prevent such attempts. Had it not been for the impressions they make, so great was the eagerness of the multitude to be possessed of any portion of this little edifice, that the whole was in danger of being carried away; not by angels, but piecemeal in the pockets of the pilgrims. The Holy House is divided, within, into two unequal portions, by a kind of gratework of silver. The division towards the west is about threefourths of the whole; that to the east is called the Sanctuary. In the larger division, which may be considered as the main body of the house, the walls are left bare, to shew the true original fabric of Nazareth stone. These stones, which bear such a strong resemblance to bricks, are loose in many places. I took notice of this to a pilgrim, who entered with us: he smiled, saying, Che la non habbia paura, Padron mio, questi muri sono piu solidi degli Appenini. At the lower, or western wall, there is a window, the same through which the angel Gabriel entered at the Annunciation. The architraves of this window are covered with silver. There are a great number of golden and silver lamps in this Chapel; I did not count them, but I was told there were above sixty; one of them is a present from the republic of Venice: it is of gold, and weighs thirtyseven pounds: some of the silver lamps weigh from one hundred and twenty, to one hundred and thirty pounds. At the upper end of the largest room is an altar, but so low, that from it you may see the famous image which stands over the chimney, in the small room, or Sanctuary. Golden and silver angels, of considerable size, kneel around her, some offering hearts of gold, enriched with diamonds, and one an infant of pure gold. The wall of the Sanctuary is plated with silver, and adorned with crucifixes, precious stones, and votive gifts of various kinds. The figure of the Virgin herself by no means corresponds with the fine furniture of her house: she is a little woman, about four feet in height, with the features and complexion of a negro. Of all the sculptors that ever existed, assuredly St. Luke, by whom this figure is said to have been made, is the least of a flatterer; and nothing can be a stronger proof of the blessed Virgins contempt for external beauty, than her being satisfied with this representation of her; especially if, as I am inclined to believe, her face and person really resembled those beautiful ideas of her, conveyed by the pencils of Raphael, Corregio, and Guido. The figure of the infant Jesus, by St. Luke, is of a piece with that of the Virgin: he holds a large golden globe in one hand, and the other is extended in the act of blessing. Both figures have crowns on their heads, enriched with diamonds; these were presents from Ann of Austria, Queen of France. Both arms of the Virgin are inclosed within her robes, and no part but her face is to be seen; her dress is most magnificent, but in a wretched bad taste: this is not surprising, for she has no female attendant. She has particular clothes for the different feasts held in honour of her, and, which is not quite so decent, is always dressed and undressed by the priests belonging to the Chapel; her robes are ornamented with all kinds of precious stones, down to the hem of her garment. There is a small place behind the Sanctuary, into which we were also admitted. This is a favour seldom refused to strangers of a decent appearance. In this they shew the chimney, and some other furniture, which, they pretend, belonged to the Virgin when she lived at Nazareth; particularly a little earthen porringer, out of which the infant used to eat. The pilgrims bring rosaries, little crucifixes, and Agnus Deis, which the obliging priest shakes for half a minute in this dish; after which, it is believed, they acquire the virtue of curing various diseases, and prove an excellent preventative of all temptations of Satan. The gown which the image had on when the chapel arrived from Nazareth, is of red camblet, and carefully kept in a glass shrine. Above a hundred masses are daily said in this Chapel, and in the church in which it stands. The music we heard in the Chapel was remarkably fine. A certain number of the chaplains are eunuchs, who perform the double duty of singing the offices in the choir, and saying masses at the altar. The canonical law, which excludes persons in their situation from the priesthood, is eluded by a very extraordinary expedient, which I shall leave you to guess. The jewels and riches to be seen at any one time in the Holy Chapel, are of small value in comparison of those in the treasury, which is a large room adjoining to the vestry of the great church. In the presses of this room are kept those presents which royal, noble, and rich bigots of all ranks have, by oppressing their subjects, and injuring their families, sent to this place. To enumerate every particular, would fill volumes. They consist of various utensils, and other things in silver and gold; as lamps, candlesticks, goblets, crowns, and crucifixes; lambs, eagles, saints, apostles, angels, virgins, and infants: then there are cameos, pearls, gems, and precious stones of all kinds, and in great numbers. What is valued above all the other jewels is, the miraculous pearl, wherein they assert, that Nature has given a faithful delineation of the Virgin, sitting on a cloud, with the infant Jesus in her arms. I freely acknowledge, that I did see something like a woman with a child in her arms; but whether Nature intended this as a portrait of the Virgin Mary, or not, I will not take upon me to say; yet I will candidly confess (though, perhaps, some of my friends in the north, may think it is saying too much in support of the Popish opinion) that the figure in this pearl bore as great a likeness to some pictures I have seen of the Virgin, as to any female of my acquaintance. There was not room in the presses of the treasury, to hold all the silver pieces which have been presented to the Virgin. Several other presses in the vestry, they told us, were completely full, and they made offer to shew them; but our curiosity was already satiated. It is said, that those pieces are occasionally melted down, by his Holiness, for the use of the State; and also, that the most precious of the jewels are picked out, and sold for the same purpose, false stones being substituted in their room. This is an affair entirely between the Virgin and the Pope: if she does not, I know no other person who has a right to complain. LETTER XXXIII. Loretto. Pilgrimages to Loretto are not so frequent with foreigners, or with Italians of fortune and distinction, as formerly, nineteen out of twenty of those, who make this journey now, are poor people, who depend for their maintenance on the charity they receive on the road. To those who are of such a rank in life as precludes them from availing themselves of the charitable institutions for the maintenance of pilgrims, such journies are attended with expence and inconveniency; and I am informed, that fathers and husbands, in moderate or confined circumstances, are frequently brought to disagreeable dilemmas, by the rash vows of going to Loretto, which their wives or daughters are apt to make on any supposed deliverance from danger. To refuse, is considered, by the whole neighbourhood, as cruel, and even impious; and to grant, is often highly distressing, particularly to such husbands as, from affection, or any other motive, do not choose that their wives should be long out of their sight. But the poor, who are maintained during their whole journey, and have nothing more than a bare maintenance to expect from their labour at home, to them a journey to Loretto is a party of pleasure, as well as devotion, and by much the most agreeable road they can take to heaven. This being a year of jubilee, there is a far greater concourse of pilgrims of all ranks here, at present, than is usual. We have seen a few in their carriages, a greater number on horseback, or on mules; or, what is still more common, on asses. Great numbers of females come in this manner, with a male friend walking by them, as their guide and protector; but the greatest number, of both sexes, are on foot. When we approached near Loretto, the road was crowded with them: they generally set out before sunrise; and, having reposed themselves during the heat of the day, continue their journey again in the evening. They sing their matins, and their evening hymns, aloud. As many have fine voices and delicate ears, those vocal concerts have a charming effect at a little distance. During the stillness of the morning and the evening, we were serenaded with this solemn religious music for a considerable part of the road. The pilgrims on foot, as soon as they enter the suburbs, begin a hymn in honour of the Virgin, which they continue till they reach the church. The poorer sort are received into an hospital, where they have bed and board for three days. The only trade of Loretto consists of rosaries, crucifixes, little Madonnas, Agnus Deis, and medals, which are manufactured here, and sold to pilgrims. There are great numbers of shops full of these commodities, some of them of a high price; but infinitely the greater part are adapted to the purses of the buyers, and sold for a mere trifle. The evident poverty of those manufacturers and traders, and of the inhabitants of this town in general, is a sufficient proof that the reputation of our Lady of Loretto is greatly on the decline. In the great church, which contains the Holy Chapel, are confessionals, where the penitents from every country of Europe may be confessed in their own language, priests being always in waiting for that purpose: each of them has a long white rod in his hand, with which he touches the heads of those to whom he thinks it proper to give absolution. They place themselves on their knees, in groupes, around the confessional chair; and when the Holy Father has touched their heads with the expiatory rod, they retire, freed from the burden of their sins, and with renewed courage to begin a fresh account. In the spacious area before this church, there is an elegant marble fountain, supplied with water from an adjoining hill, by an aqueduct. Few even of the most inconsiderable towns of Italy are without the useful ornament of a public fountain. The embellishments of sculpture and architecture are employed, with great propriety, on such works, which are continually in the peoples view; the air is refreshed, and the eye delighted, by the streams of water they pour forth; a sight peculiarly agreeable in a warm climate. In this area there is also a statue of Sixtus V., in bronze. Over the portal of the church itself, is a statue of the Virgin; and above the middle gate, is a Latin inscription, importing, that within is the House of the Mother of God, in which the Word was made flesh. The gates of the church are likewise of bronze, embellished with basso relievos, of admirable workmanship; the subjects taken partly from the Old, and partly from the New, Testament, and divided into different compartments. As the gates of this church are shut at noon, the pilgrims who arrive after that time can get no nearer the Santa Casa than these gates, which are, by this means, sometimes exposed to the first violence of that holy ardour which was designed for the Chapel itself. All the sculpture upon the gates, which is within reach of the mouths of those zealots, is, in some degree, effaced by their kisses. The murder of Abel, by his brother, is upon a level with the lips of a person of an ordinary size, when kneeling. Poor Abel has been always unfortunate; had he been placed a foot higher, or lower, on the gate, he might have remained there, in security, for ages; but, in the unlucky place that the sculptor has put him, his whole body has been almost entirely kissed away by the pilgrims; whilst Cain stands, untouched, in his original altitude, frowning and fierce as ever. I have said nothing of the paintings to be seen here, though some are highly esteemed, particularly two in the Treasury. The subject of one of these is, the Virgins Nativity, by Annibale Carracci; and of the other, a Holy Family, by Raphael. There are some others of considerable merit, which ornament the altars of the great church. These altars, or little chapels, of which this fabric contains a great number, are lined with marble, and embellished by sculpture; but nothing within this church interested me so much as the iron grates before those chapels, after I was informed that they were made of the fetters and chains of the Christian slaves, who were freed from bondage by the glorious victory of Lepanto. From that moment these iron grates commanded my attention more than all the golden lamps and candlesticks, and angels and jewels, of the Holy Chapel. The ideas that rush into ones mind on hearing a circumstance of this kind, are affecting beyond expression. To think of four thousand of our fellowcreatures, torn from the service of their country and the arms of friendship, chained to oars, subjected continually to the revilings of enemies, and every kind of ignominious treatment, at once, when their souls were sinking under the weight of such accumulated calamity, and brought to the very verge of despair; at once, in one blessed moment, freed from slavery, restored to the embraces of their friends, and enjoying, with them, all the rapture of victory. Good God, what a scene! what a number of scenes! for the imagination, after glancing at the whole, distinguishes and separates objects, and forms a thousand groupes of the most pathetic kind; the fond recognition of old companions, brothers flying into each others arms, and the ecstacy of fathers on the recovery of their lost sons. Many such pictures did my fancy form, while I stood contemplating those grates so truly ornamental of a Christian church, and so perfectly congenial with a religion which requires men to relieve the oppressed, and set the captive free. Happy if the followers of that religion had always observed this divine admonition. I speak not of those men who assume the name of Christians for the purposes of interest or ambition, but of a more absurd class of mankind; those who, believing in Christianity, endeavour to reconcile it to a conduct, and doctrines, entirely repugnant to its nature. This absurdity has appeared in the human character from the earliest ages of Christianity. Men have displayed unaffected zeal, and endeavoured to support and propagate the most benevolent and rational of all religions, by actions worthy of demons, and arguments which shock common sense. The same persons who praised and admired the heavenly benevolence of this sentiment, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy; have thought it a duty to condemn their fellowcreatures to cruel deaths for speculative opinions. The same men who admired the founder of Christianity for going about, continually, doing good, have thought it a duty to spend their whole lives in cells, doing nothing. And can any thing be more opposite to those dark and inexplicable doctrines, on the belief of which, according to the conviction of many, our salvation depends, than this plain rule, Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them? a rule so plain, as to be understood by the most simple and ignorant; and so just, complete, and comprehensive, as to be admired by the wisest and most learned. If this equitable maxim is the law and the prophets, and we learn from the highest authority that it is, what becomes of all those mysterious webs, of various texture, which, since the beginning of the Christian ra, Popes, Priests, and many of the leaders of sectaries, have wove around it? LETTER XXXIV. Spoletto. We left Loretto after dinner, and proceeded through a beautiful country to Macerata, a small town, situated on a hill, as the towns in Italy generally are. We only stayed to change horses, and continued our journey to Tolentino; where, not thinking it expedient to begin to ascend the Apennines in the dark, we took up our quarters at an inn, the best in the place, but, by many degrees, the poorest we had seen in Italy. However, as it was not for good eating or convenient bedchambers we came to this country, that circumstance affected us very little. Indeed, the quantity of victuals presented us at supper, would have been as displeasing to a person of Sancho Panchos way of thinking, on the subject of eating, as the manner they were dressed would have been to a nicer sensualist in that refined science. The latter circumstance prevented our regretting the former; and although we had felt some uneasiness when we were told how little provisions there were in the house, the moment they appeared on the table we were all convinced there was more than enough. The poor people of this inn, however, shewed the utmost desire to please. They must have unfortunate tempers indeed, who, observing this, could have shocked them by fretfulness, or an air of dissatisfaction. Besides, if the entertainment had been still more homely, even those travellers who are accustomed to the greatest delicacies, might be induced to bear it with patience for one night, from this consideration, That the people of the place, who have just as good a natural right to the luxuries of life as themselves, are obliged to bear it always. Nothing is more apt to raise indignation than to behold men repining and fretting, on account of little inconveniencies, in the hearing of those who are bearing much greater every day with cheerfulness. There is a want of sense, as well as a want of temper, in such behaviour. The only use of complaining of hardships to those who cannot relieve them, must be to obtain sympathy; but if those to whom they complain, are suffering the same hardships in a greater degree, what sympathy can those repiners expect? They certainly find none. Next morning we encountered the Apennines. The fatigue of this days journey was compensated by the beauty and variety of the views among those mountains. On the face of one of the highest, I remarked a small hut, with a garden near it. I was told this was inhabited by an old infirm Hermit. I could not understand how a person in that condition could scramble up and down such a mountain to procure for himself the necessaries of life. I was informed, he had not quitted his hermitage for several years, the neighbouring peasants supplying him plentifully with all he requires. This mans reputation for sanctity is very great, and those who take the trouble of carrying him provisions, think themselves well repaid by his prayers. I imagine I am acquainted with a country where provisions are in greater plenty than in the Apennines; and yet the greatest saint in the nation, who should take up his residence on one of its mountains, would be in great danger of starving, if he depended for his sustenance upon the provisions that should be carried up to him in exchange for his prayers. There are mountains and precipices among the Apennines, which do not appear contemptible in the eyes even of those who have travelled among the Alps; while on the other hand, those delightful plains, contained within the bosom of the former, are infinitely superior, in beauty and fertility, to the vallies among the latter. We now entered the rich province of Umbria, and soon after arrived at Foligno, a thriving town, in which there is more appearance of industry than in any of the towns we have seen, since we left Ancona; there are considerable manufactures of paper, cloth, and silk. In a convent of Nuns, is a famous picture by Raphael, generally visited by travellers, and much admired by connoisseurs. The situation of this town is peculiarly happy. It stands in a charming valley, laid out in cornfields and vineyards, interfered by mulberry and almond trees, and watered by the river Clitumnus; the view terminating on one side by hills crowned with cities, and on the other by the loftiest mountains of the Apennines. I never experienced such a sudden and agreeable change of climate, as on descending from those mountains, in many places, at present, covered with snow; to this pleasant valley of Umbria, Where western gales eternally reside, And all the seasons lavish all their pride. From Foligno to Vene, the road lies through this fine plain. A little before you come to the posthouse at Vene, on the right hand, there is a little building; the front which looks to the valley, is adorned with six Corinthian pillars; the two in the middle enriched by a laurel foliage: on one side, is a crucifix in basso relievo, with vine branches curling around it. On this building, there are some inscriptions which mention the resurrection. Some, who think the architecture too fine for the first ages of Christianity, and the Temple too old to have been built since the revival of that art, have conjectured, that this little edifice is antique, and originally erected by the ancient inhabitants of Umbria, as a temple, in honour of the river God Clitumnus; but, at some subsequent period, converted into a Christian chapel, and the crucifix and inscriptions added after its consecration. Other very respectable judges think, the style of architecture is by no means pure, but adulterated by meretricious ornament, and worthy enough of the first ages of Christianity. Mr. Addison has given many quotations from the Latin poets, in honour of this river, all of which countenance the popular opinion with regard to the quality of the water. The breed of white cattle, which gave such a reputation to the river, still remains in this country. We saw many of them as we passed, some milk white, but the greatest numbers of a whitish grey. The common people still retain the ancient opinion, with respect to the effect of the water. Spoletto, the capital of Umbria, is situated on a high rock, the ascent to which is very steep on all sides. This town retains little appearance of its ancient importance. Keysler says, that, like other paltry towns in Italy, it exhibits bombastic inscriptions concerning its antiquity, and many trivial occurrences which have happened there; the only inscription, however, which he quotes, and the only one which I saw, is that over the Porta di Fuga, from which the Carthaginian army is supposed to have been repaired. ANNIBAL CSIS AD THRASYMENUM ROMANIS URBEM ROMAM INFENSO AGMINE PETENS, SPOLETO MAGNA SUORUM CLADE REPULSUS, INSIGNI FUGA PORT NOMEN FECIT. I cannot perceive any thing bombastic in this; Livy mentions the fact in his twentysecond book, in the following terms: Annibal recto itinere per Umbriam usque ad Spoletum venit, inde quum perpopulato agro urbem oppugnare adortus esset, cum magna cde suorum repulsus, conjectans ex unius coloni haud nimis prospere tentat viribus quanta moles Roman urbis esset. If the inhabitants of the greatest capital in the world had equal authority for their ancestors having repulsed such a general as Hannibal, would they not be inclined to receive it as truth, and to transmit it to the latest posterity? This town is still supplied with water, by means of an antique aqueduct, one of the most entire, and the highest in Europe. In the centre, where the height is greatest, there is a double arcade; the other arches diminish in height, as they recede from it, towards the sloping sides of the two mountains which this magnificent work unites. In the cathedral, there is a picture of the Virgin by St. Luke; but we had already seen sufficient specimens of this saints abilities, as a sculptor and a painter, and we had not the least curiosity to see any more. LETTER XXXV. Rome. Leaving Spoletto, we passed over the highest of the Apennines, and then descended through a forest of olive trees, to the fruitful valley in which Terni is situated, on the river Nera. It was formerly called Interamna, on account of its standing between two branches of that river. The valley which stretches from this town to Terni, is exuberantly fertile, being finely exposed to the south sun, and watered by the Nera, which, by its beauteous windings, divides the plain into peninsulas of various shapes. The Emperor Tacitus, and his brother Florianus, were natives of Terni; but the greatest pride of that city is, its having given birth to Tacitus the Historian. I am almost ashamed to tell you, that we did not go to see the famous cataract, near this town, which is usually visited by travellers, and which, by all accounts, is so worthy of their curiosity. Innumerable streams from the highest Apennines, meeting in one channel, form the river Velino, which flows placidly, for some time, through a plain almost horizontal, and afterwards, when the river becomes more rapid by the contracting and sloping of the channel, the plain terminates of a sudden in a precipice three hundred feet high, over which, the river rushing, dashes with such violence against the rocky bottom, that a vast cloud of watery smoke is raised all around. The river Velino does not long survive the fall, but broken, groaning, and foaming, soon finishes his course in the Nera. Mr. Addison is of opinion, that Virgil had this gulph in his eye when he described the place in the middle of Italy, through which the Fury Alecto descended into Tartarus. A very heavy rain which fell while we were at Terni, the fatigue and difficulty of climbing up the Monte di Marmore, from whence this fall appears to the greatest advantage, and our impatience to be at Rome, prevented us from seeing that celebrated cataract, which we regretted the less, as we had frequently seen one of the same kind in Scotland, about twelve miles above Hamilton, at a place called Corace, where the river Clyde, falling perpendicular from a vast height, produces the same effects, in every respect, unless, that he outlives the accident, and continues his course for near fifty miles before he joins the Atlantic ocean. The distance from Terni to Narni is about seven miles; the road is uncommonly good, and the country on each side delightful. When we came near Narni, while the chaises proceeded to the town, I walked to take a view of the bridge of Augustus. This stately fabric is wholly of marble, and without cement, as many other antique buildings are. Only one of the arches remains intire, which is the first on the side of the river where I was; under it there was no water; it is one hundred and fifty feet wide. The next arch, below which the river flows, is twenty feet wider, and has a considerable slope, being higher on the side next the first arch, than on that next the third. The remaining two arches are, in every respect, smaller than the two first. What could be the reason of such ungraceful irregularity in a work, in other respects so magnificent, and upon which so much labour and expence must have been bestowed, I cannot imagine. It is doubtful, whether there were originally four arches, or only three; for that which is supposed by some to be the basis from which the two lesser arches sprung; is thought by others, to be the remains of a square pillar, raised some time after the bridge was built, to support the middle of the third arch; which, on the supposition that there were but three, must have been of a very extraordinary width. This fabric is usually called Augustuss Bridge, and Mr. Addison thinks that without doubt Martial alludes to it, in the ninetysecond Epigram of the seventh book; but some other very judicious travellers imagine, it is the remains of an aqueduct, because those arches joined two mountains, and are infinitely higher than was necessary for a bridge over the little river which flows under them. It has also been supposed, not without great appearance of probability, that this fabric was originally intended to serve the purposes of both. As the rain still continued, my curiosity to see this fine ruin procured me a severe drenching: this I received with due resignation, as a punishment for having been intimidated by rain, from visiting the fine cascade at Terni. It was with great difficulty I got up the hill, by a path which I thought was shorter and easier than the high road; this unfortunately led to no gate. At last, however, I observed a broken part of the wall, over which I immediately clambered into the town. Martial takes notice of the difficulty of access to this town. Narnia, sulphureo quam gurgite candidus amnis Circuit, ancipiti vix adeunda Jugo. The town itself is very poor, and thinly inhabited. It boasts, however, of being the native city of the Emperor Nerva, and some other celebrated men. The road from Narni to the posthouse at Otricoli, is exceeding rough and mountainous. This is a very poor village, but advantageously situated on a rising ground. Between this and the Tiber, at some little distance from the road, there is a considerable tract of ground, covered with many loose antique fragments and vaults: these are generally considered as the ruins of the ancient Ocriculum. We passed along this road early in the morning, and were entertained, great part of the way, with vocal music from the pilgrims, several hordes of whom we met near this place, on their return from Rome, where they had been on account of the jubilee. The only place of note between Otricoli and Rome, is Civita Castellana. Terni is the last town of the province of Umbria, and Castellana the first of ancient Latium, coming to Rome by the Flaminian way. Castellana is considered, by many antiquarians, as the Fescennium of the ancients; a schoolmaster of which, as we are informed by Livy, by an unexampled instance of wickedness, betrayed a number of the sons of the principal citizens into the power of the Dictator Camillus, at that time besieging the place. The generous Roman, equally abhorring the treachery and the traitor, ordered this base man to be stripped, to have his hands tied behind, and to be delivered over to the boys, who, armed with rods, beat him back to Fescennium, and delivered him up to their parents, to be used as they should think he deserved. Civita Castellana stands upon a high rock, and must formerly have been a place of great strength, but is now in no very flourishing condition. Many of the towns I have mentioned, lying on the road to Rome, by the Flaminian way, have suffered, at different periods, more than those of any other part of Italy; by the inroads of Visigoths and Huns, as well as by some incursions of a later date. This, I am convinced, is the only country in the world, where the fields become more desolate as you approach the capital. After having traversed the cultivated and fertile vallies of Umbria, one is affected with double emotion at beholding the deplorable state of poor neglected Latium. For several posts before you arrive at Rome, few villages, little cultivation, and scarcely any inhabitants, are to be seen. In the Campania of Rome, formerly the best cultivated and best peopled spot in the world, no houses, no trees, no inclosures; nothing but the scattered ruins of temples and tombs, presenting the idea of a country depopulated by a pestilence. All is motionless, silent, and forlorn. In the midst of these deserted fields the ancient Mistress of the World rears her head, in melancholy majesty. LETTER XXXVI. Rome. You will not be surprised at my silence for some weeks past. On arriving at a place where there are so many interesting objects as at Rome, we are generally selfish enough to indulge our own curiosity very amply, before we gratify that of our friends in any degree. My first care was to wait on the Prince Guistiniani, for whom we had letters from Count Mahoni, the Spanish ambassador at Vienna, to whose niece that Prince is married. Nothing can exceed the politeness and attention the Prince and Princess have shewn. He waited immediately on the D of H, and insisted on taking us, in his own carriage, to every house of distinction. Two or three hours a day were spent in this ceremony. After being once presented, no farther introduction or invitation is necessary. Our mornings are generally spent in visiting the antiquities, and the paintings in the palaces. On those occasions we are accompanied by Mr. Byres, a gentleman of probity, knowledge, and real taste. We generally pass two or three hours every evening at the conversazionis; I speak in the plural number, for we are sometimes at several in the same evening. It frequently happens, that three or four, or more, of the nobility, have these assemblies at the same time; and almost all the company of a certain rank in Rome make it a point, if they go to any, to go to all; so that, although there is a great deal of bustle, and a continual change of place, there is scarcely any change of company, or any variation in the amusement, except what the change of place occasions: but this circumstance alone is often found an useful accomplice in the murder of a tedious evening; for when the company find no great amusement in one place, they fly to another, in hopes they may be better entertained. These hopes are generally disappointed; but that does not prevent them from trying a third, and a fourth; and although to whatever length the experiment is pushed, it always terminates in new disappointments, yet, at last, the evening is dispatched; and, without this locomotive resource, I have seen people in danger of dispatching themselves. This bustle, and running about after objects which give no permanent satisfaction, and without fully knowing whence we came, or whither we are going, youll say, is a mighty silly business. It is so;and, after all the swelling importance that some people assume, Pray what is human life? Having told you what five or six conversazionis are, I shall endeavour to give you some idea what one is. These assemblies are always in the principal apartment of the palace, which is generally on the second, but sometimes on the third floor. It is not always perfectly easy to find this apartment, because it sometimes happens that the staircase is very ill lighted. On entering the hall, where the footmen of the company are assembled, your name is pronounced aloud, by some servants of the family, and repeated by others, as you walk through several rooms. Those whose names are not known, are announced by the general denomination of i Cavalieri Forestieri, or Inglesi, as you pass through the different rooms, till you come to that in which the company are assembled, where you are received by the master or mistress of the house, who sits exactly within the door for that purpose. Having made a short compliment there, you mix with the company, which is sometimes so large, that none but the ladies can have the conveniency of sitting. Notwithstanding the great size and number of the rooms in the Italian palaces, it frequently happens that the company are so pressed together, that you can with difficulty move from one room to another. There always is a greater number of men than women; no lady comes without a gentleman to hand her. This gentleman, who acts the part of Cavaliero Servente, may be her relation in any degree, or her lover, or both. It is allowed him to be connected with her in any way but onehe must not be her husband. Familiarities between man and wife are still connived at in this country however, provided they are carried on in private; but for a man to be seen hand in hand with his wife, in public, would not be tolerated. At Cardinal Bernis assembly, which is usually more crowded than any in Rome, the company are served with coffee, lemonade, and iced confections of various kinds; but this custom is not universal. In short, at a conversatione, you have an opportunity of seeing a number of welldressed people, you speak a few words to those you are acquainted with, you bow to the rest, and enjoy the happiness of being squeezed and pressed among the best company in Rome. I do not know what more can be said of these assemblies; only it may be necessary, to prevent mistakes, to add, that a conversazione is a place where there is no conversation. They break up about nine oclock, all but a small select company, who are invited to supper. But the present race of Romans are by no means so fond of convivial entertainments, as their predecessors. The magnificence of the Roman nobility displays itself now in other articles than the luxuries of the table: they generally dine at home, in a very private manner. Strangers are seldom invited to dinner, except by the foreign ambassadors. The hospitality of Cardinal Bernis alone makes up for every deficiency of that nature. There is no ambassador from the Court of Great Britain at Rome, but the English feel no want of one. If the French Cardinal had been instructed by his court to be peculiarly attentive to them, he could not be more so than he is. Nothing can exceed the elegant magnificence of his table, nor the splendid hospitality in which he lives. Years have not impaired the wit and vivacity for which he was distinguished in his youth; and no man could support the pretensions of the French nation to superior politeness, better than their ambassador at Rome. There are no lamps lighted in the streets at night; and all Rome would be in utter darkness, were it not for the candles, which the devotion of individuals sometimes place before certain statues of the Virgin. Those appear faintly glimmering at vast intervals, like stars in a cloudy night. The lackeys carry dark lanthorns behind the carriages of people of the first distinction. The Cardinals, and other Ecclesiastics, do not choose to have their coaches seen before the door of every house they visit. In the midst of this darkness, you will naturally conclude, that amorous assignations in the streets are not unfrequent among the inferior people. When a carriage, with a lanthorn behind it, accidentally comes near a couple who do not wish to be known, one of them calls out, Volti la lanterna, and is obeyed; the carriage passing without farther notice being taken. Venus, as you know, has always been particularly respected at Rome, on account of her amour with Anchises. Genus unde Latinum Albanique patres, atque alta mnia Rom. The Italians, in general, have a remarkable air of gravity, which they preserve even when the subject of their conversation is gay. I observed something of this at Venice, but I think it is much stronger at Rome. The Roman ladies have a languor in their countenances, which promises as much sensibility as the brisk look of the French; and, without the volubility of the latter, or the frankness of the Venetian women, they seem no way averse to form connections with strangers. The D of H was presented to a beautiful young Lady at one of the assemblies. In the course of conversation he happened to say, That he had heard she had been married very lately. She answered, with precipitation, Signor sima mio marito  uno Vecchio. She then added, shaking her head, and in a most affecting tone of voice, O santissima Virgine quanto  Vecchio! LETTER XXXVII. Rome. Authors differ very much in opinion with respect to the number of inhabitants which Rome contained at the period when it was most populous. Some accounts make them seven millions, and others a still greater number. These seem all to be incredible exaggerations. It is not probable, that what is properly called the city of Rome, ever extended beyond the wall built by Belisarius, after he had defeated the Goths. This wall has been frequently repaired since, and is still standing; it is about thirteen or fourteen miles in circuit, which is nearly the size that Rome was of, according to Pliny, in the days of Vespasian. Those who assert, that the number of inhabitants in ancient Rome, when it was most populous, could not exceed a million, exclusive of slaves, are thought moderate in their calculation; but when we consider that the circumference of thirteen or fourteen miles is not equal to that of either Paris or London; that the Campus Martius, which is the best built part of modern Rome, was a field, without a house upon it, anciently; and that the rising ground, where St. Peters church and the Vatican stand, was no part of old Rome; it will be difficult to conceive that ever Rome could boast a million of inhabitants. For my own part, if the wall of Belisarius is admitted as the boundary of the ancient city, I cannot imagine it to have, at any time, contained above five or six hundred thousand, without supposing the masters of the world to have been the worst lodged people in it. But if, in the computations above mentioned, the suburbs are included; if those who lived without the walls are considered as inhabitants; in that case there will be room enough for any number, the limits of the suburbs not being ascertained. The buildings immediately without the walls of Rome, which were connectedly continued so as to merit the name of suburbs, were certainly of vast extent; and with those of the town itself, must have contained a prodigious number of people. By a calculation made by Mr. Byres, the Circus Maximus was of sufficient size to accommodate three hundred and eighty thousand spectators; and we are told by the Latin poets, that it was usually full. Now if allowance is made for the superannuated, the sick, and infirm; also for children, and those employed in their private business, and for slaves, who were not permitted to remain in the Circus during the games; Mr. Byres imagines that such a number as three hundred and eighty thousand spectators could not be supplied by a city and suburbs the number of whose inhabitants were much under three millions. Whatever may have been the extent of the suburbs of Rome, it is probable they were only formed of ordinary houses, and inhabited by people of inferior rank. There are no remains of palaces, or magnificent buildings of any kind, to be now seen near the walls, or indeed over the whole Campania; yet it is asserted by some authors, that this wide surface was peopled, at one period, like a continued village; and we are told of strangers, who, viewing this immense plain covered with houses, imagined they had already entered Rome, when they were thirty miles from the walls of that city. Some of the seven hills on which Rome was built, appear now but gentle swellings, owing to the intervals between them being greatly raised by the rubbish of ruined houses. Some have hardly houses of any kind upon them, being entirely laid out in gardens and vineyards. It is generally thought, that twothirds of the surface within the walls are in this situation, or covered with ruins; and, by the information I have the greatest reliance on, the number of the inhabitants at present is about one hundred and seventy thousand, which, though greatly inferior to what Rome contained in the days of its ancient power, is more than it has been, for the most part, able to boast since the fall of the Empire. There is good authority for believing that this city, at particular periods since that time, some of them not very remote, has been reduced to between thirty and forty thousand inhabitants. The numbers have gradually increased during the whole of this century. As it was much less expensive to purchase new ground for building upon, than to clear any ruins which, by time, had acquired the consistence of rock, great part of the modern city is built on what was the ancient Campus Martius. Some of the principal streets are of considerable length, and perfectly straight. That called the Corso, is the most frequented. It runs from the Porto del Popolo, along the side of the Campus Martius, next to the ancient city. Here the nobility display their equipages during the carnival, and take the air in the evenings in fine weather. It is indeed the great scene of Roman magnificence and amusement. The shops on each side, are three or four feet higher than the street; and there is a path for the conveniency of foot passengers, on a level with the shops. The palaces, of which there are several in this street, range in a line with the houses, having no court before them, as the hotels in Paris have; and not being shut up from the sight of the citizens by high gloomy walls, as Devonshire and Burlington houses in London are. Such dismal barricades are more suitable to the unsocial character of a proud Baron, in the days of aristocratic tyranny, than to the hospitable benevolent disposition of their present proprietor. The Corso, I have said, commences at the fine area immediately within the Porto del Popolo. This is the gate by which we entered Rome; it is built in a noble style of elegant simplicity, from the design of Michael Angelo, executed by Bernini. The Strada Felice, in the higher part of the city, is about a mile and a half in length from the Trinit del Monte, to the church of St. John Lateran, on the Pincean hill. This street runs in a straight line, but the view is interrupted by a fine church called St. Maria Maggiore. The Strada Felice is crossed by another straight street, called the Strada di Porta Pia, terminated at one end by that gate; and at the other by four colossal statues in white marble, of two horses led by two men; supposed by some, to be representations of Alexander taming Bucephalus; and according to others, of Castor and Pollux. They are placed before the Popes palace, on the Quirinal Hill, and have a noble effect. It would be more difficult to convey an idea of the smaller and less regular streets. I shall therefore only observe, in general, that Rome at present exhibits a strange mixture of magnificent and interesting, common and beggarly objects; the former consists of palaces, churches, fountains, and above all, the remains of antiquity. The latter comprehend all the rest of the city. The church of St. Peters, in the opinion of many, surpasses, in size and magnificence, the finest monuments of ancient architecture. The Grecian and Roman temples were more distinguished for the elegance of their form, than their magnitude. The Pantheon, which was erected to all the Gods, is the most entire antique temple in Rome. It is said, that Michael Angelo, to confirm the triumph of modern over ancient architecture, made the dome of St. Peters of the same diameter with the Pantheon; raising the immense fabric upon four pilasters; whereas the whole circle of the rotunda rests upon the ground. This great artist, perhaps, was delighted with the idea of being thought as superior to the ancient architects, as he was conscious of being inferior to some of the sculptors of antiquity. All who have seen St. Pauls in London may, by an enlargement of its dimensions, form some idea of the external appearance of St. Peters. But the resemblance fails entirely on comparing them within; St. Peters being lined, in many parts, with the most precious and beautiful marble, adorned with valuable pictures, and all the powers of sculpture. The approach to St. Peters church excells that to St. Pauls in a still greater proportion, than the former surpasses the latter either in size, or in the richness and beauty of the internal ornaments. A magnificent portico advances on each side from the front, by which means a square court is formed immediately before the steps which lead into the church. The two porticoes form two sides of the square, the third is closed by the front of the church, and the fourth is open. A colonnade, four columns deep, commences at the extremities of the porticoes; and embracing, in an oval direction, a space far wider than the square, forms the most magnificent area that perhaps ever was seen before any building. This oval colonnade is crowned with a balustrade, ornamented by a great number of statues; and consists of above three hundred large pillars, forming three separate walks, which lead to the advanced portico, and from that into the church. In the middle of the immense area, stands an Egyptian obelisk of granite; and to the right and left of this, two very beautiful fountains refresh the atmosphere with streams of clear water. The delighted eye glancing over these splendid objects, would rest with complete satisfaction on the stupendous fabric to which they serve as embellishments, if the faade of this celebrated church had been equal in beauty and elegance to the rest of the building. But this is by no means the case, and every impartial judge must acknowledge, that the front of St. Peters is, in those particulars, inferior to that of our St. Pauls. The length of St. Peters, taken on the outside, is exactly seven hundred and thirty feet; the breadth five hundred and twenty; and the height, from the pavement to the top of the cross, which crowns the cupola, four hundred and fifty. The grand portico before the entrance, is two hundred and sixteen feet in length, and forty in breadth. It is usual to desire strangers, on their first entering this church, to guess at the size of the objects, which, on account of the distance, always seem less than they are in reality. The statues of the Angels, in particular, which support the founts of holy water, when viewed from the door, seem no bigger than children; but when you approach nearer, you perceive they are six feet high. We make no such mistake on seeing a living man at the same, or a greater distance; because the knowledge we have of a mans real size precludes the possibility of our being mistaken, and we make allowance for the diminution which distance occasions; but Angels, and other figures in sculpture, having no determined standard, but being under the arbitrary will of the statuary, who gives them the bulk of giants or dwarfs as best suits his purpose, we do not know what allowance to make; and the eye, unused to such large masses, is confounded, and incapacitated from forming a right judgment of an object six feet high, or of any other dimensions, which it was not previously acquainted with. It is not my design to attempt a description of the statues, basso relievos, columns, pictures, and various ornaments of this church; Such an account, faithfully executed, would fill volumes. The finest of all the ornaments have a probability of being longer preserved than would once have been imagined, by the astonishing improvements which have of late been made in the art of copying pictures in Mosaic. Some of the artists here, have already made copies with a degree of accuracy, which nobody could believe who had not seen the performances. By this means, the works of Raphael, and other great painters, will be transmitted to a later posterity than they themselves expected; and although all the beauty of the originals cannot be retained in the copy, it would be gross affectation to deny that a great part of it is. How happy would it make the real lovers of the art in this age, to have such specimens of the genius of Zeuxis, Apelles, and other ancient painters! It has been frequently remarked, that the proportions of this church are so fine, and the symmetry of its different parts so exquisite, that the whole seems considerably smaller than it really is. It was, however, certainly intended to appear a great and sublime object, and to produce admiration by the vastness of its dimensions. I cannot, therefore, be of opinion, that any thing which has a tendency to defeat this effect, can with propriety be called an excellence. I should on the contrary imagine, that if the architect could have made the church appear larger than it is in reality, this would have been a more desirable effect; provided it could have been produced without diminishing our admiration in some more material point. If this could not be accomplished; if it is absolutely certain, that those proportions in architecture, which produce the mod beautiful effect on the whole, always make a building seem smaller than it is; this ought rather to be mentioned as an unfortunate than as a fortunate circumstance. The more I reflect on this, it appears to me the more certain, that no system of proportions, which has the effect of making a large building appear small, is therefore excellent. If the property of reducing great things to little ones is inherent in all harmonious proportions; it is, in my opinion, an imperfection, and much to be lamented. In small buildings, where we expect to derive our pleasure from grace and elegance, the evil may be borne; but in edifices of vast dimensions, capable of sublimity from their bulk, the vice of diminishing is not to be compensated by harmony. The sublime has no equivalent. LETTER XXXVIII. Rome. The grand procession of the Possesso took place a few days ago. This is a ceremony performed by every Pope, as soon as conveniency will permit, after the Conclave has declared in his favour. It is equivalent to the coronation in England, or the consecration at Rheims. On this occasion, the Pope goes to the Basilica of St. John Lateran, and, as the phrase is, takes possession of it. This church, they tell you, is the most ancient of all the churches in Rome, and the mother of all the churches in christendom. When he has got possession of this, therefore, he must be the real head of the Christian church, and Christs vicegerent upon earth. From St. John Laterans, he proceeds to the Capitol, and receives the keys of that fortress; after which, it is equally clear, that as an earthly prince, he ought, like the ancient possessors of the Capitol, to have a supremacy over all kings. The Prince Guistiniani procured a place for us, at the Senators house in the Capitol, from whence we might see the procession to the greatest advantage. On arriving, we were surprised to find the main body of the Palace, as well as the Palazzo d Conservatori, and the Museum, which form the two wings, all hung with crimson silk, laced with gold. The bases and capitals of the pillars and pilasters, where the silk could not be accurately applied, were gilt. Only imagine, what a figure the Farnesian Hercules would make, dressed in a silk suit, like a French petitmaitre. To cover the noble simplicity of Michael Angelos architecture with such frippery by way of ornament, is, in my mind, a piece of refinement equally laudable. Throwing an eye on the Pantheon, and comparing it with the Campidoglio in its present dress, the beauty and justness of the following lines seemed more striking than ever. Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, Amid the domes of modern hands, Amid the toys of idle state, How simply, how severely great! We were led to a balcony, where a number of ladies of the first distinction in Rome were assembled. There were no men excepting a very few strangers; most part of the Roman noblemen have some function in the procession. The instant of his Holinesss departure from the Vatican, was announced by a discharge of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo; on the top of which, the standard of the church had been flying ever since morning. We had a full view of the cavalcade, on its return from the church, as it ascended to the Capitol. The officers of the Popes horse guards were dressed in a style equally rich and becoming. It was something between the Hungarian and Spanish dress. I do not know whether the King of Prussia would approve of the great profusion of plumage they wore in their hats; but it is picturesque, and showy qualities are the most essential to the guards of his Holiness. The Swiss guards were, on this occasion, dressed with less propriety; their uniforms were real coats of mail, with iron helmets on their heads, as if they had been to take the Capitol by storm, and expected a vigorous resistance. Their appearance was strongly contrasted with that of the Roman Barons, who were on horseback, without boots, and in full dress; each of them was preceded by four pages, their hair hanging in regular ringlets to the middle of their backs: they were followed by a number of servants in rich liveries. Bishops and other ecclesiastics succeeded the Barons; and then came the Cardinals on horseback, in their purple robes, which covered every part of the horses, except the head. You may be sure that the horses employed at such ceremonies are the gentlest that can be found; for if they were at all unruly, they might not only injure the surrounding crowd, but throw their Eminencies, who are not celebrated for their skill in horsemanship. Last of all comes the Pope himself, mounted on a milk white mule, distributing blessings with an unsparing hand among the multitude, who follow him with acclamations of Viva il Santo Padre, and, prostrating themselves on the ground before his mule, Benedizione Santo Padre. The Holy Father took particular care to wave his hand in the form of the cross, that the blessings he pronounced at the same instant might have the greater efficacy. As his Holiness is employed in this manner during the whole procession, he cannot be supposed to give the least attention to his mule, the bridle of which is held by two persons who walk by his side, with some others, to catch the infallible Father of the Church, and prevent his being thrown to the ground, in case the mule should stumble. At the entrance of the Capitol he was met by the Senator of Rome, who, falling on his knees, delivered the keys into the hands of his Holiness, who pronounced a blessing over him, and restored him the keys. Proceeding from the Capitol, the Pope was met by a deputation of Jews, soon after he had passed through the Arch of Titus. They were headed by the chief Rabbi, who presented him with a long scroll of parchment, on which is written the whole law of Moses in Hebrew. His Holiness received the parchment in a very gracious manner, telling the Rabbi at the same time, that he accepted his present out of respect to the law itself, but entirely rejected his interpretation; for the ancient law, having been fulfilled by the coming of the Messiah, was no longer in force. As this was not a convenient time or place for the Rabbi to enter into a controversy upon the subject, he bowed his head in silence, and retired with his countrymen, in the full conviction, that the falsehood of the Popes assertion would be made manifest to the whole universe in due time. His Holiness, mean while, proceeded in triumph, through the principal streets, to the Vatican. This procession, I am told, is one of the most showy and magnificent which takes place, on any occasion, in this city; where there are certainly more solemn exhibitions of the same kind than in any other country; yet, on the whole, I own it did not afford me much satisfaction; nor could all their pomp and finery prevent an uneasy recollection, not unmixed with sentiments of indignation, from obtruding on my mind. To feel unmixed admiration in beholding the Pope and his Cardinals marching in triumph to the Capitol, one must forget those who walked in triumph formerly to the same place; forget entirely that such men as Camillus, Scipio, Paulus milius, and Pompey, ever existed; they must forget Cato, whose campaign in Africa was so much admired by Lucan, that he declares, he would rather have had the glory of that single campaign than Pompeys three triumphs, and all the honour he obtained by finishing the Jugurthan war. Hunc ego per Syrtes, Libyque extrema triumphum Ducere maluerim, quam ter Capitolia curru Scandere Pompeii, quam frangere colla Jugurth. We must forget Caius Cassius, Marcus Brutus, and all the great and virtuous men of ancient Rome, whom we have admired from our childhood, and of whose great qualities our admiration increases with our experience and knowledge of the present race of mankind. To be in the Capitol, and not think and speak of the worthies of the ancient Republic, is almost impossible. Quis te magne Cato tacitum; aut te Cosse relinquat? Quis Gracchi genus? aut geminos, duo fulmina belli, Scipiadas, c. c. LETTER XXXIX. Rome. Having said so much of St. Peters, unquestionably the finest piece of modern architecture in Rome, allow me to mention some of the best specimens of the ancient. I shall begin with the Pantheon, which, though not the largest of the Roman temples, is the most perfect which now remains. The Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and the Temple of Peace, if we may trust to the accounts we have of the first, and to the ruins of the second, in the Campo Vaccino, were both much larger than the Pantheon. In spite of the depredations which this last has sustained from Goths, Vandals, and Popes, it still remains a beauteous monument of Roman taste. The pavilion of the great altar, which stands under the cupola in St. Peters, and the four wreathed pillars of Corinthian brass which support it, were formed out of the spoils of the Pantheon, which, after all, and with the weight of eighteen hundred years upon its head, has still a probability of outliving its proud rapacious rival. From the round form of this temple, it has obtained the name of Rotunda. Its height is a hundred and fifty feet, and its diameter nearly the same. Within, it is divided into eight parts; the gate at which you enter forming one: the other seven compartments, if they may be so called, are each of them distinguished by two fluted Corinthian pillars, and as many pilasters of Giallo Antico. The capitals and bases are of white marble; these support a circular entablature. The wall is perpendicular for half the height of the temple; it then slopes forward as it ascends, the circumference gradually diminishing, till it terminates in an opening of about twentyfive feet diameter. There are no windows; the central opening in the vault admitting a sufficiency of light, has a much finer effect than windows could have had. No great inconveniency can happen from this opening. The conical form of the temple prevents the rain from falling near the walls where the altars now are, and where the statues of the Gods were formerly placed. The rain which falls in the middle immediately drills through holes which perforate a large piece of porphyry that forms the centre of the pavement, the whole of which consists of various pieces of marble, agate, and other materials, which have been picked up from the ruins, and now compose a singular kind of Mosaic work. The portico was added by Marcus Agrippa, the soninlaw of Augustus. It is supported by sixteen pillars of granite, five feet in diameter, and of a single piece each. Upon the frieze, in the front, is the following inscription in large capitals: M. AGRIPPA L. F. CONSUL TERTIUM FECIT. Some are of opinion, that the Pantheon is much more ancient than the Augustan age, and that the portico, which is the only part those antiquarians admit to be the work of Agrippa, though beautiful in itself, does not correspond with the simplicity of the temple. As the Pantheon is the most entire, the Amphitheatre of Vespasian is the most stupendous, monument of antiquity in Rome. It was finished by his son Titus, and obtained the name of Colosseum, afterwards corrupted into Coliseum, from a colossal statue of Apollo which was placed before it. This vast structure was built of Tiburtine stone, which is remarkably durable. If the public buildings of the ancient Romans had met with no more inveterate enemy than Time, we might, at this day, contemplate the greater number in all their original perfection; they were formed for the admiration of much remoter ages than the present. This Amphitheatre in particular might have stood entire for two thousand years to come: For what are the slow corrosions of time, in comparison of the rapid destruction from the fury of Barbarians, the zeal of Bigots, and the avarice of Popes and Cardinals? The first depredation made on this stupendous building, was by the inhabitants of Rome themselves, at that time greater Goths than their conqueror. We are told, they applied to Theodoric, whose court was then at Ravenna, for liberty to take the stones of this Amphitheatre for some public work they were carrying on. The marble cornices, the friezes, and other ornaments of this building, have been carried away, at various times, to adorn palaces; and the stones have been taken to build churches, and sometimes to repair the walls of Rome, the most useless work of all. For of what importance are walls to a city, without a garrison, and whose most powerful artillery affects not the bodies, but only the minds, of men? About onehalf of the external circuit still remains, from which, and the ruins of the other parts, a pretty exact idea may be formed of the original structure. By a computation made by Mr. Byres, it could contain eightyfive thousand spectators, making a convenient allowance for each. Fourteen chapels are now erected within side, representing the stages of our Saviours passion. This expedient of consecrating them into Christian chapels and churches, has saved some of the finest remains of Heathen magnificence from utter destruction. Our admiration of the Romans is tempered with horror, when we reflect on the use formerly made of this immense building, and the dreadful scenes which were acted on the Arena; where not only criminals condemned to death, but also prisoners taken in war, were obliged to butcher each other, for the entertainment of an inhuman populace. The combats of Gladiators were at first used in Rome at funerals only, where prisoners were obliged to assume that profession, and fight before the tombs of deceased Generals or Magistrates, in imitation of the barbarous custom of the Greeks, of Sacrificing captives at the tombs of their heroes. This horrid piece of magnificence, which, at first, was exhibited only on the death of Consuls, and men of the highest distinction, came gradually to be claimed by every citizen who was sufficiently rich to defray the expence; and as the peoples fondness for these combats increased every day, they were no longer confined to funeral solemnities, but became customary on days of public rejoicing, and were exhibited, at amazing expence, by some Generals after victories. In the progress of riches, luxury, and vice, it became a profession in Rome to deal in gladiators. Men called Lanist made it their business to purchase prisoners and slaves, to have them instructed in the use of the various weapons; and when any Roman chose to amuse the people with their favourite show, or to entertain a select company of his own friends upon any particular occasion, he applied to the Lanist; who, for a fixed price, furnished him with as many pairs of those unhappy combatants as he required. They had various names given to them, according to the different manner in which they were armed. Towards the end of the republic, some of the rich and powerful citizens had great numbers of gladiators of their own, who were daily exercised by the Lanist, and always kept ready for fighting when ordered by their proprietor. Those who were often victorious, or had the good fortune to please their masters, had their liberty granted them, on which they generally quitted their profession; though it sometimes happened, that those who were remarkably skilful, continued it, either from vanity or poverty, even after they had obtained their freedom; and the applause bestowed on those gladiators, had the effect of inducing men born free, to choose this for a profession, which they exercised for money, till age impaired their strength and address. They then hung up their arms in the temple of Hercules, and appeared no more on the Arena. Veianius armis Herculis ad postem fixis latet abdicus agro, Ne populum extrema toties exoret Arena. There were many Amphitheatres at Rome, in other towns of Italy, and in many provinces of the empire; but this of Vespasian was the largest that ever was built. That at Verona is the next in size in Italy, and the remains of the Amphitheatre at Nmes, in the south of France, prove, that it was the most magnificent structure of this kind in any of the Roman provinces. The Romans were so excessively fond of these exhibitions, that wherever colonies were established, it was found requisite to give public shews of this kind, to induce the emigrants to remain in their new country: and in the provinces where it was thought necessary that a considerable body of troops should remain constantly, structures of this kind were erected, at vast labour and expence, and were found the best means of inducing the young officers to submit cheerfully to a long absence from the capital, and of preventing the common soldiers from desertion. The profusion of human blood, which was shed in the Arena, by the cruel prodigality of the Emperors, and the refinements which were invented to augment the barbarous pleasure of the spectators, are proofs of the dreadful degree of corruption and depravity to which human nature is capable of attaining, even among a learned and enlightened people, when unrestrained by the mild precepts of a benevolent religion. We are told, that the gladiators bred for the use of particular patricians, as well as those kept for hire by the Lanist, were, for some weeks before they appeared in the Arena, fed upon such succulent diet, as would soonest fill their veins, that they might bleed freely at every wound. They were instructed by the Lanist, not only in the art of fighting, but also in the most graceful manner of dying; and when those wretched men felt themselves mortally wounded, they assumed such attitudes as they knew pleased the beholders; and they seemed to receive pleasure themselves from the applause bestowed upon them in their last moments. When a gladiator was thrown by his antagonist to the ground, and directly laid down his arms, it was a sign that he could resist no longer, and declared himself vanquished; but still his life depended on the spectators. If they were pleased with his performance, or, in a merciful disposition, they held up their hands, with the thumb folded down, and the life of the man was spared; but if they where in the humour to see him die, they held up the hand clenched, with the thumb only erect. As soon as the prostrate victim beheld that fatal signal, he knew all hopes of life were vain, and immediately presented his breast to the sword of his adversary, who, whatever his own inclinations might be, was obliged to put him to death instantly. As these combats formed the supreme pleasure of the inhabitants of Rome, the most cruel of their Emperors were sometimes the most popular; merely because they gratified the people, without restraint, in their favourite amusement. When Marcus Aurelius thought it necessary, for the public service, to recruit his army from the gladiators of Rome; it raised more discontent among the populace, than many of the wildest pranks of Caligula. In the times of some of the Emperors, the lower class of Roman citizens were certainly as worthless a set of men as ever existed; stained with all the vices which arise from idleness and dependence; living upon the largesses of the great; passing their whole time in the Circus and Amphitheatres, where every sentiment of humanity was annihilated within their breasts, and where the agonies and torments of their fellowcreatures were their chief pastime. That no occasion might be lost of indulging this savage taste of the populace, criminals were condemned to fight with wild beasts in the Arena, or were exposed, unarmed, to be torn in pieces by them; at other times, they were blindfolded, and in that condition obliged to cut and slaughter each other. So that, instead of victims solemnly sacrificed to public justice, they seemed to be brought in as buffoons to raise the mirth of the spectators. The practice of domestic slavery had also a great influence in rendering the Romans of a cruel and haughty character. Masters could punish their slaves in what manner, and to what degree, they thought proper. It was as late as the Emperor Adrians time, before any law was made, ordaining that a master who should put his slave to death without sufficient cause, should be tried for his life. The usual porter at the gate of a great mans house in ancient Rome, was a chained slave. The noise of whips and lashes resounded from one house to another, at the time when it was customary for the masters of families to take an account of the conduct of their servants. This cruel disposition, as is the case wherever domestic slavery prevails, extended to the gentle sex, and hardened the mild tempers of the women. What a picture has Juvenal drawn of the toilet of a Roman lady! Nam si constituit, solitoque decentius optat Ornari   Componit crinem laceratis ipsa capillis, Nuda humeros Psecas infelix, nudisque mamillis, Altior hic quare cincinnus? Taurea punit. Continuo flexi crimen facinusque capilli. It was customary for avaricious masters, to send their infirm and sick slaves, to an island in the Tiber, where there was a Temple of sculapius; if the God pleased to recover them, the master took them back to his family; if they died, no farther inquiry was made about them. The Emperor Claudius put a check to this piece of inhumanity, by ordaining, that every sick slave, thus abandoned by his master, should be declared free when he recovered his health. From these observations, are we to infer, that the ancient Romans were naturally of a more cruel turn of mind, than the present inhabitants of Europe? Or is there not reason to believe that, in the same circumstances, modern nations would act in the same manner? Do we not perceive, that the practice of domestic slavery has, at this day, a strong tendency to render men haughty, capricious, and cruel. Such, I am afraid, is the nature of man, that if he has power without controul, he will use it without justice; absolute power has a strong tendency to make good men bad, and never fails to make bad men worse. It was an observation of the late Mareschal Saxe, that in all the contests between the army waggoners and their horses, the waggoners were in the wrong; which he imputed to their having absolute authority over the horses. In the qualities of the head and heart, and in most other respects, he thought the men and horses on an equality. Caprice is a vice of the temper, which increases faster than any other by indulgence; it often spoils the best qualities of the heart, and, in particular situations, degenerates into the most unsufferable tyranny. The first appearance of it in young minds ought to be opposed with firmness, and prevented from farther progress, otherwise our future attempts to arrest it may be fruitless; for Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo. The combats in the Amphitheatres were, as I have already said, introduced by degrees at Rome. The custom of making prisoners fight around the funeral piles of deceased heroes, was a refinement on a more barbarous practice; and the Romans, no doubt, valued themselves on their humanity, in not butchering their prisoners in cold blood, as was the custom in the earliest ages of Greece. The institution of obliging criminals to fight in the Arena, and thus giving them a chance for their lives, would also appear to them a very merciful improvement on the common manner of execution. The grossest sophistry will pass on mens understandings, when it is used in support of measures to which they are already inclined. And when we consider the eagerness with which the populace of every country behold the accidental combats which occur in the streets, we need not be surprised to find, that when once the combats of gladiators were permitted among the Roman populace, on whatever pretext, the taste for them would daily increase, till it erased every idea of compunction from their breasts, and became their ruling passion. The Patricians, enriched by the pillage of kingdoms, and knowing that their power at Rome, and consequently all over the world, depended on the favour and suffrages of the people, naturally sought popularity by gratifying their favourite taste. Afterwards the Emperors might imagine, that such shows would keep the citizens from reflecting on their lost liberties, or the enormities of the new form of government; and, exclusive of every political reason, many of them, from the barbarous disposition of their own minds, would take as much pleasure in the scenes acted on the Arena, as the most savage of the vulgar. While we express horror and indignation at the fondness which the Romans displayed for the bloody combats of the Amphitheatre, let us reflect, whether this proceeded from any peculiar cruelty of disposition inherent in that people, or belongs to mankind in general, let us reflect, whether it is probable, that the people of any other nation would not be gradually led, by the same degrees, to an equal passion for such horrid entertainments. Let us consider, whether there is reason to suspect that those who arm cocks with steel, and take pleasure in beholding the spirited little animals cut one another to death, would not take the same, or superior delight, in obliging men to slaughter each other if they had the power.And what restrains them? Is there no reason to believe, that the influence of a purer religion, and brighter example, than were known to the Heathen world, prevents mankind from those enormities now, which were permitted and countenanced formerly? As soon as the benevolent precepts of Christianity were received by the Romans as the laws of the Deity, the prisoners and the slaves were treated with humanity, and the bloody exhibitions in the Amphitheatres were abolished. LETTER XL. Rome. You are surprised that I have hitherto said nothing of the Capitol, and the Forum Romanum, which is by far the most interesting scene of antiquities in Rome. The objects worthy of attention are so numerous, and appear so confused, that it was a considerable time before I could form a tolerable distinct idea of their situation with respect to each other, though I have paid many more visits to this than any other spot since I have been in this city. Before we entered a church or palace, we ran thither with as much impatience as if the Capitol had been in danger of falling before our arrival. The approach to the modern Campidoglio is very noble, and worthy of the genius of Michael Angelo. The building itself is also the work of that great artist; it is raised on part of the ruins of the ancient Capitol, and fronts St. Peters church, with its back to the Forum and old Rome. Ascending this celebrated hill, the heart beats quick, and the mind warms with a thousand interesting ideas. You are carried back, at once, to the famous robber who first founded it. Without thinking of the waste of time which must have effaced what you are looking for, you cast about your eyes in search of the path by which the Gauls climbed up, and where they were opposed and overthrown by Manlius. You withdraw your eyes, with disdain, from every modern object, and are even displeased with the elegant structure you see before you, and contemplate, with more respect, the ruins on which it is founded; because they are more truly Roman. The two Sphynxes of basalte, at the bottom of the ascent, though excellent specimens of Egyptian sculpture, engage little of your attention. Warm with the glory of Rome, you cannot bestow a thought on the hieroglyphics of Egypt. At sight of the trophies erected in honour of C. Marius, all those bloody scenes acted by the fury of party and demon of revenge, during the most calamitous period of the republic, rush upon the memory; and you regret that Time, who has spared the monuments of this fierce soldier, has destroyed the numerous trophies raised to the Fabii, the Scipios, and other heroes, distinguished for the virtues of humanity, as well as the talents of Generals. You are struck with the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, and, in the heat of enthusiasm, confounding the fictions of poetry with historical truth, your heart applauds their fraternal affection, and thanks them for the timely assistance they afforded the Romans in a battle with the Volsci. You rejoice at their good fortune, which, on earth, has procured them a place in the Capitol, and, in heaven, a seat by Hercules. Horace informs us, that Augustus drinks his nectar, reclined between them and that demigod Quos inter Augustus recumbens Purpureo bibit ore nectar. From them you move forward, and your admiration is fixed by the animated equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which naturally brings to your memory that happy period, when the Roman empire was governed by a Prince who, during a long reign, made the good of his subjects the chief object of his government. You proceed to the upper end of the area; your eye is caught by a majestic female figure, in a sitting attitude; you are told it is a Roma Triumphans; you view her with all the warmth of fond enthusiasm, but you recollect that she is no longer Triumphans; you cast an indignant eye on St. Peters church, to which she also seems to look with indignation. Is there such another instance of the vicissitude of human things; the proud Mistress of the World under the dominion of a priest? Horace was probably accused of vanity when he wrote these lines: Usque ego postera Crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium Scandet cum tacita virgine Pontifex. Yet the poets works have already outlived this period fourteen hundred years; and Virgil has transmitted the memory of the friendship and fame of Nisus and Euryalus, the same space of time beyond the period which he himself, in the ardour of poetic hope, had fixed for its limits. Fortunati ambo si quid mea carmina possunt, Nulla dies unquam memori vos eximet vo: Dum domus ne Capitoli immobile saxum Accolet, imperiumque Pater Romanus habebit. In the two wings of the modern palace, called the Campidoglio, the Conservators of the city have apartments; their office is analogous to that of the ancient diles. In the main body an Italian nobleman, appointed by the Pope, has his residence, with the title of Senator of Rome; the miserable representation of that Senate which gave laws to the world. The most defaced ruin, the most shapeless heap of antique rubbish in all Rome, cannot convey a feebler image of the building to which they belonged, than this deputy of the Pope does of that august assembly. The beautiful approach to this palace, and all the ornaments which decorate the area before it, cannot detain you long from the back view to which the ancient Capitol fronted. Here you behold the Forum Romanum, now exhibiting a melancholy but interesting view of the devastation wrought by the united force of time, avarice, and bigotry. The first objects which meet your eye, on looking from this side of the hill, are three fine pillars, twothirds of them buried in the ruins of the old Capitol. They are said to be the remains of the temple of Jupiter Tonans, built by Augustus, in gratitude for having narrowly escaped death from a stroke of lightning. Near these are the remains of Jupiter Stator, consisting of three very elegant small Corinthian pillars, with their entablature; the Temple of Concord, where Cicero assembled the Senate, on the discovery of Catilines conspiracy; the Temple of Romulus and Remus, and that of Antoninus and Faustina, just by it, both converted into modern churches; the ruins of the magnificent Temple of Peace, built immediately after the taking of Jerusalem, the Roman empire being then in profound peace. This is said to have been the finest temple in old Rome; part of the materials of Neros Golden House, which Vespasian pulled down, were used in erecting this grand edifice. The only entire pillar remaining of this temple, was placed by Paul V. before the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. It is a most beautiful fluted Corinthian column, and gives a very high idea of the temple to which it originally belonged. His Holiness has crowned it with an image of the Virgin Mary; and, in the inscription on the pedestal, he gives his reason for choosing a column belonging to the Temple of Peace, as an ornament to a church dedicated to the Virgin. Ex cujus visceribus Princeps ver Pacis genitus est. Of many triumphal arches which stood formerly in Rome, there are only three now remaining, all of them near the Capitol, and forming entries to the Forum; those of Titus, Septimius Severus, and Constantine. The last is by much the finest of the three; but its chief beauties are not genuine, nor, properly speaking, its own; they consist of some admirable basso relievos, stolen from the Forum of Trajan, and representing that Emperors victories over the Dacians. This theft might, perhaps, not have been so notorious to posterity, if the artists of Constantines time had not added some figures, which make the fraud apparent, and, by their great inferiority, evince the degeneracy of the arts in the interval between the reigns of these two Emperors. The relievos of the arch of Titus represent the table of shewbread, the trumpets, the golden candlesticks with seven branches, and other utensils, brought from the Temple of Jerusalem. The quarter which is allotted for the Jews is not at a great distance from this arch. There are about nine thousand of that unfortunate nation at present in Rome; the lineal descendants of those brought captive, by Titus, from Jerusalem. I have been assured that they always cautiously avoid passing through this arch, though it lies directly in their way to the Campo Vaccino, choosing rather to make a circuit, and enter the Forum at another place. I was affected at hearing this instance of sensibility in a people who, whatever other faults they may have, are certainly not deficient in patriotism, and attachment to the religion and customs of their forefathers. The same delicacy of sentiment is displayed by a poet of their own country, in the 137th psalm, as it is finely translated by Buchanan: Dum procul a Patria msti Babylonis in oris, Fluminis ad liquidas forte sedemus aquas; Illa animum subiit species miseranda Sionis, Et numquam Patrii tecta videnda soli. ... O Solym, O adyta, et sacri penetralia templi Ullane vos animo deleat hora meo? c. You may read the whole; you will perhaps find some poetical beauties which escaped your observation when you heard it sung in churches; but the poets ardour seems to glow too violently towards the end of the psalm. LETTER XLI. Rome. There are many other interesting ruins in and about the Campo Vaccino, besides those I have mentioned; but of some structures which we know formerly stood here, no vestige is now to be seen. This is the case with the arch which was erected in honour of the Fabian family. There is the strongest reason to believe, that the ancient Forum was entirely surrounded with temples, basilic, and public buildings of various kinds, and adorned with porticoes and colonades. In the time of the Republic, assemblies of the people were held there, laws were proposed, and justice administered. In it was the Rostrum, from whence the orators harangued the people. All who aspired at dignities came hither to canvass suffrages. The Bankers had their offices near the Forum, as well as those who received the revenues of the Commonwealth; and all kind of business was transacted in this place. In my visits to the Campo Vaccino, I arrange the ancient Forum in the best manner I can, and fix on the particular spot where each edifice stood. In this I am sometimes a little cramped in room; for the space between the Palatine Hill and the Capitol is so small, and I am so circumscribed by arches and temples, whose ruins still remain, that I find it impossible to make the Forum Romanum larger than Covent Garden. I looked about for the Via Sacra, where Horace met with his troublesome companion. Some people imagine, this was no other than the Forum itself; but I am clearly of opinion, that the Via Sacra was a street leading to the Forum, and lost in it, as a street in London terminates at a square. I have, at last, fixed on the exact point where it joins the Forum, which is very near the Meta Sudans. If we should ever meet here, I shall convince you by local arguments, that I am in the right; but I fear it would be very tedious, and not at all convincing, to transmit them to you in writing. As Rome increased in size and number of inhabitants, one Forum was found too small, and many others were erected in process of time; but when we speak of the Forum, without any distinguishing epithet, the ancient one is understood. The Tarpeian Rock is a continuation of that on which the Capitol was built; I went to that part from which criminals condemned to death were thrown. Mr. Byres has measured the height; it is exactly fiftyeight feet perpendicular; and he thinks the ground at the bottom, from evident marks, is twenty feet higher than it was originally; so that, before this accumulation of rubbish, the precipice must have been about eighty feet perpendicular. In reading the history of the Romans, the vast idea we form of that people, naturally extends to the city of Rome, the hills on which it was built, and every thing belonging to it. We image to ourselves the Tarpeian Rock as a tremendous precipice; and, if afterwards we ever have an opportunity of actually seeing it, the height falls so short of our expectations, that we are apt to think it a great deal less than it is in reality. A mistake of this kind, joined to a careless view of the place, which is not in itself very interesting, has led Bishop Burnet into the strange assertion, that the Tarpeian Rock is so very low, that a man would think it no great matter to leap down it for his diversion. Criminals thrown from this precipice, were literally thrown out of the city of old Rome into the Campus Martius, which was a large plain, of a triangular shape; two sides of the triangle being formed by the Tiber, and the base by the Capitol, and buildings extending three miles nearly in a parallel line with it. The Campus Martius had its name from a small temple built in it, at a very early period, and dedicated to Mars; or it might have this name from the military exercises performed there. In this field, the great assemblies of the people, called Census or Lustrum, were held every fifth year; the Consuls, Censors, and Tribunes, were elected; the levies of troops were made; and there the Roman youth exercised themselves in riding, driving the chariot, shooting with the bow, using the sling, darting the javelin, throwing the discus or quoit, in wrestling, running; and when covered with sweat and dust, in consequence of these exercises, they washed their bodies clean by swimming in the Tiber. Horace accuses Lydia of ruining a young man, by keeping him from those manly exercises in which he formerly excelled. Cur apricum Oderit campum, patiens pulveris atque solis: Cur neque militaris Inter equales equitet, Gallica nec lupatis Temperet ora frnis? Cur timet flavum Tiberim tangere? The dead bodies of the most illustrious citizens were also burnt in this field, which was adorned gradually by statues and trophies, erected to the memory of distinguished men. But every feature of its ancient appearance, is now hid by the streets and buildings of modern Rome. The inhabitants of Rome may be excused for chusing this situation for their houses, though by so doing, they have deprived us of a view of the Campus Martius. But surely they, or their Governors, ought to show more solicitude for preserving the antiquities than they do; and they might, without inconveniency, find some place for a Cow Market, of less importance than the ancient Forum. It is not in their power to restore it to its former splendor, but they might, at least, have prevented its falling back to the state in which neas found it, when he came to visit the poor Evander. Talibus inter se dictis ad tecta subibant Pauperis Evandri: passimque armenta videbant Romanoque Foro et lautis mugire carinis. I have already said, that besides this, there were several Forums in Rome, where Basilic were built, justice administered, and business transacted. The Emperors were fond of having such public places named after them. The accounts we have of the Forums of Nerva, and that of Trajan, give the highest idea of their grandeur and elegance; three Corinthian pillars, with their entablature, are all that remain of the former; of the latter, the noble column placed in the middle, still preserves all its original beauty. It consists of twentythree circular pieces of white marble, horizontally placed one above the other; it is about twelve feet diameter at the bottom, and ten at the top. The plinth of the base is a piece of marble twentyone feet square. A staircase, consisting of one hundred and eightythree steps, and sufficiently wide to admit a man to ascend, is cut out of the solid marble, leaving a small pillar in the middle, round which the stair winds from the bottom to the top. I observed a piece broken, as I went up, which shewed, that those large masses of marble have been exquisitely polished on the flat sides, where they are in contact with each other, that the adhesion and strength of the pillar might be the greater. The stairs are lighted by fortyone windows, exceedingly narrow on the outside, that they might not interrupt the connection of the basso relievos, but which gradually widen within, and by that means give sufficient light. The base of the column is ornamented with basso relievos, representing trophies of Dacian armour. The most memorable events of Trajans expedition against the Dacians, are admirably wrought in a continued spiral line from the bottom of the column to the top. The figures towards the top, are too far removed from the eye to be seen perfectly. To have rendered them equally visible with those below, it would have been necessary to have made them larger proportionably as they ascended. Viewed from any considerable distance, all the sculpture is lost, and a plain fluted pillar, of the same proportions, would have had as fine an effect. But such a frugal plan would not have been so glorious to the Prince, whose victories are engraven, or so interesting to the legionary soldiers, many of whom, no doubt, are here personally represented. Besides, it would not now be near so valuable a monument, in the eyes of antiquarians, or so useful a study to sculptors and painters, who have occasion to represent the military dress of the Romans, or the costume of the East in that age. Exclusive of the statue, this beautiful pillar is a hundred and twenty feet high. The ashes of Trajan were deposited in an urn at the bottom, and his statue at the top. Pope Sixtus the Fifth, in the room of the Emperors, has placed a statue of St. Peter upon this column. I observed to a gentleman, with whom I visited this pillar, that I thought there was not much propriety in placing the figure of St. Peter upon a monument, representing the victories, and erected in honour of the Emperor Trajan. There is some propriety, however, replied he coldly, in having made the statue of brass. LETTER XLII. Rome. I Have been witness to the beatification of a Saint; he was of the order of St. Francis, and a great many brethren of that order were present, and in very high spirits on the occasion. There are a greater number of ecclesiastics beatified, and canonized, than any other order of men. In the first place, because, no doubt, they deserve it better; and also, because they are more solicitous to have Saints taken from among men of their own profession, and particular order, than people in other situations in life are. Every monk imagines, it reflects personal honour on himself, when one of his order is canonised. Soldiers, lawyers, and physicians, would probably be happy to see some of their brethren distinguished in the same manner; that they have not had this gratification of late years, may be imputed to the difficulty of finding suitable characters among them. Ancient history, indeed, makes mention of some commanders of armies who were very great saints; but I have heard of no physician who acquired that title since the days of St. Luke; or of a single lawyer, of any age or country. A picture of the present Expectant, a great deal larger than life, had been hung up on the front of St. Peters church, several days before the beatification took place. This ceremony was also announced by printed papers, distributed by the happy brethren of St. Francis. On the day of the solemnity, his Holiness, a considerable number of Cardinals, many other ecclesiastics, all the Capucin Friars in Rome, and a great concourse of spectators attended. The ceremony was performed in St. Peters church. An ecclesiastic of my acquaintance procured us a very convenient place for seeing the whole. The ceremony of beatification is a previous step to that of canonization. The Saint, after he is beatified, is entitled to more distinction in Heaven than before; but he has not the power of freeing souls from purgatory till he has been canonized; and therefore is not addressed in prayer till he has obtained the second honour. On the present occasion, a long discourse was pronounced by a Franciscan Friar, setting forth the holy life which this Expectant had led upon earth, his devotions, his voluntary penances, and his charitable actions; and a particular enumeration was made, of certain miracles he had performed when alive, and others which had been performed after his death by his bones. The most remarkable miracle, by himself in person, was, his replenishing a ladys cupboard with bread, after her housekeeper, at the Saints instigation, had given all the bread of the family to the poor. This business is carried on in the manner of a lawsuit. The Devil is supposed to have an interest in preventing men from being made Saints. That all justice may be done, and that Satan may have his due, an advocate is employed to plead against the pretensions of the Saint Expectant, and the person thus employed is denominated by the people, the Devils Advocate. He calls in question the miracles said to have been wrought by the Saint and his bones, and raises as many objections to the proofs brought of the purity of his life and conversation as he can. It is the business of the Advocate on the other side, to obviate and refute these cavils. The controversy was carried on in Latin. It drew out to a great length, and was by no means amusing. Your friend Mr. Ry, who sat near me, losing patience, from the length of the ceremony, and some twitches of the gout, which he felt at that moment, whispered me, I wish, from my heart, the Devils Advocate were with his client, and this everlasting Saint fairly in Heaven, that we might get away. The whole party, of which I made one, were seized with frequent and long continued yawnings, which I imagine was observed by some of the Cardinals, who sat opposite to us. They caught the infection, and although they endeavoured to conceal their gaping under their purple robes, yet it seemed to spread and communicate itself gradually over the whole assembly, the Franciscan Friars excepted; they were too deeply interested in the issue of the dispute, to think it tedious. As often as the Devils Advocate stated an objection, evident signs of impatience, contempt, surprise, indignation, and resentment, appeared in the countenances of the venerable brotherhood, according to their different characters and tempers. One shook his head, and whispered his neighbour; another raised his chin, and pushed up his underlip with a disdainful smile; a third started, opened his eyelids as wide as he could, and held up both his hands, with his fingers extended; a fourth raised his thumb to his mouth, bit the nail with a grin, and jerked the thumb from his teeth towards the adversary; a fifth stared, in a most expressive manner, at the Pope, and then fixed his eyes, frowning, on the Advocate. All were in agitation, till the Saints Counsel began to speak, when a profound silence took place, and the moment he had made his answer, their countenances brightened, a smile of satisfaction spread around, and they nodded and shook their beards at each other with mutual congratulations. In the mean time, the Cardinals, and the other auditors, who were not asleep, continued yawning; for my own part, I was kept awake only by the interlude of grimaces, played off by the Capucins between the arguments. Exclusive of these, the making a Saint of a Capucin, is the dulled business I ever was witness to. I hope the man himself enjoys much felicity since the ceremony, in which case no goodnatured person will grudge the tedium and fatigue which he suffered on the occasion. I ought to have told you, that the Advocates reasoning was all in vain; the Devil lost his cause, without the possibility of appeal. The Saints claim being confirmed, he was admitted into all the privileges of beatification; the Convent defraying the expence of the process. As we returned, Mr. Ry asked, if I recollected the Saints name. I said, I did not. We must inform ourselves, said he; for when I meet him above, I shall certainly claim some merit with him, from having done penance at his beatification1. 1 I have been since informed, this new Saint is called St. Buonavantura; he was by birth a Neapolitan. LETTER XLIII. Rome. Travellers are too apt to form hasty, and, for the most part, unfavourable opinions of national characters. Finding the customs and sentiments of the inhabitants of the foreign countries through which they pass, very different from their own, they are ready to consider them as erroneous, and conclude, that those who act and think in a manner so opposite to themselves, must be either knaves, fools, or both. In such hasty decisions they are often confirmed by the partial representations of a few of their own countrymen, or of other foreigners who are established in some profession in those countries, and who have an interest in giving bad impressions of the people among whom they reside. That the Italians have an uncommon share of natural sagacity and acuteness, is pretty generally allowed; but they are accused of being deceitful, perfidious, and revengeful; and the frequent assassinations and murders which happen in the streets of the great towns in Italy, are brought as proofs of this charge. I have not remained a sufficient length of time in Italy, supposing I were, in all other respects, qualified to decide on the character of the inhabitants; but from the opportunities I have had, my idea of the Italians is, that they are an ingenious sober people, with quick feelings, and therefore irritable; but when unprovoked, of a mild and obliging disposition, and less subject to avarice, envy, or repining at the narrowness of their own circumstances, and the comparative wealth of others, than most other nations. The murders which occasionally happen, proceed from a deplorable want of police, and some very impolitic customs, which have, from various causes, crept among them, and would produce more frequent examples of the same kind, if they prevailed to the same degree, in some other countries. I beg you will keep in your mind, that the assassinations which disgrace Italy, whatever may have been the case formerly, are now entirely confined to the accidental squabbles which occur among the rabble. No such thing has been known for many years past among people of condition, or the middle rank of citizens; and with regard to the stabbings which happen among the vulgar, they almost always proceed from an immediate impulse of wrath, and are seldom the effect of previous malice, or a premeditated plan of revenge. I do not know whether the stories we have of mercenary bravos, men who formerly are supposed to have made it their profession to assassinate, and live by the murders they committed, are founded in truth; but I am certain, that at present there is no such trade in this country. That the horrid practice of drawing the knife and stabbing each other, still subsists among the Italian vulgar, I am persuaded, is owing to the scandalous impunity with which it is treated. The asylum which churches and convents offer to criminals, operates against the peace of society, and tends to the encouragement of this shocking custom in two different manners: First, it increases the criminals hopes of escaping; secondly, it diminishes, in vulgar minds, the idea of the atrocity of the crime. When the populace see a murderer lodged within the sacred walls of a church, protected and fed by men who are revered on account of their profession, and the supposed sanctity of their lives; must not this weaken the horror which mankind naturally have for such a crime, and which it ought to be the aim of every government to augment? Those who are willing to admit that this last consideration may have the effect I have ascribed to it, on the minds of the vulgar, still contend, that the hopes of impunity can have little influence in keeping up the practice of stabbing; because, as has been already observed, these stabbings are always in consequence of accidental quarrels and sudden bursts of passion, in which men have no consideration about their future safety. All I have to say in answer is, that if the observations I have been able to make on the human character are well founded, there are certain considerations which never entirely lose their influence on the minds of men, even when they are in the height of passion. I do not mean that there are not instances of men being thrown into such paroxysms of fury, as totally deprive them of reflection, and make them act like madmen, without any regard to consequences; but extraordinary instances, which depend on peculiarities of constitution, and very singular circumstances, cannot destroy the force of an observation which, generally speaking, is found just. We every day see men, who have the character of being of the most ungovernable tempers, who are apt to fly into violent fits of passion upon the most trivial occasions, yet, in the midst of all their rage, and when they seem to be entirely blinded by fury, are still capable of making distinctions; which plainly evince, that they are not so very much blinded by anger, as they would seem to be. When people are subject to violent fits of choler, and to an unrestrained licence of words and actions, only in the company of those who, from their unfortunate situation in life, are obliged to bear such abuse, it is a plain proof that considerations which regard their own personal safety, have some influence on their minds in the midst of their fury, and instruct them to be mad certa ratione modoque. This is frequently unknown to those choleric people themselves, while it is fully evident to every person of observation around them. What violent fits of passion do some men indulge themselves in against their slaves and servants, which they always impute to the ungovernable nature of their own tempers, of which, however, they display the most perfect command upon much greater provocations given by their superiors, equals, or by any set of people who are not obliged to bear their ill humour. How often do we see men who are agreeable, cheerful, polite, and goodtempered to the world in general, gloomy, peevish, and passionate, to their wives and children? When you happen to be a witness to any instance of unprovoked domestic rage, into which they have allowed themselves to be transported, they will very probably lament their misfortune, in having more ungovernable tempers than the rest of mankind. But if a man does not speak and act with the same degree of violence on an equal provocation, without considering whether it comes from superior, equal, or dependant, he plainly shews that he can govern his temper, and that his not doing it on particular occasions, proceeds from the basest and most despicable of all motives. I remember, when I was on the continent with the English army, having seen an officer beat a soldier very unmercifully with his cane: I was then standing with some officers, all of whom seemed to be filled with indignation at this mean exercise of power. When the person who had performed the intrepid exploit came to join the circle, he plainly perceived marks of disapprobation in every countenance; for which reason he thought it necessary to apologize for what he had done. Nothing, says he, provokes me so much as a fellows looking saucily when I speak to him. I have told that man so fifty times; and yet, on my reprimanding him just now, for having one of the buttons of his waistcoat broken, he looked saucily full in my face; which threw me into such a passion, that I could not help threshing him.However, I am sorry for it, because he has the character of being an honest man, and has always done his duty, as a soldier, very well. How much, continued he, are those people to be envied, who have a full command of their tempers! No man can command it more perfectly than yourself, said a gentleman who was then in the footguards, and has since been a general officer. I often endeavour to do it, replied the choleric man, but always find it out of my power. I have not philosophy enough to check the violence of my temper when once I am provoked. You certainly do yourself injustice, Sir, said the officer; no person seems to have their passions under better discipline. With your brother officers, I never saw you, in a single instance, break through the rules of decorum, or allow your anger to overcome your politeness to them. They never provoked me, said the passionate man. Provoked you! rejoined the other; yes, Sir, often, and in a much greater degree than the poor soldier. Do not I, at this moment, give you ten thousand times more provocation than he, or any of the unfortunate men under your command, whom you are so apt to beat and abuse, ever did?and yet you seem perfectly master of your temper. There was no way left by which the choleric man could prove the contrary, except by knocking the other down; but that was a method of convincing his antagonist which he did not think proper to use. A more intrepid man, in the same predicament, would very probably have had recourse to that expedient; but in general mankind are able, even in the violence of passion, to estimate, in some measure, the risk they run; and the populace of every country are more readily kindled to that inferior degree of rage, which makes them lose their horror for the crime of murder, and disregard the life of a fellowcreature, than to that higher pitch, which deprives them of all consideration for their own personal safety. In England, Germany, or France, a man knows, that if he commits a murder, every person around him will, from that instant, become his enemy, and use every means to seize him, and bring him to justice. He knows that he will be immediately carried to prison, and put to an ignominious death, amidst the execrations of his countrymen. Impressed with these sentiments, and with the natural horror for murder which such sentiments augment, the populace of those countries hardly ever have recourse to stabbing in their accidental quarrels, however they may be inflamed with anger and rage. The lowest blackguard in the streets of London will not draw a knife against an antagonist far superior to himself in strength. He will fight him fairly with his fists as long as he can, and bear the severest drubbing, rather than use a means of defence which is held in detestation by his countrymen, and which would bring himself to the gallows. The murders committed in Germany, France, or England, are therefore comparatively few in number, and happen generally in consequence of a preconcerted plan, in which the murderers have taken measures for their escape or concealment, without which they know that inevitable death awaits them. In Italy the case is different; an Italian is not under the influence of so strong an impression, that certain execution must be the consequence of his committing a murder; he is at less pains to restrain the wrath which he feels kindling within his breast; he allows his rage full scope; and, if hard pressed by the superior strength of an enemy, he does not scruple to extricate himself by a thrust of his knife; he knows, that if some of the Sbirri are not present, no other person will seize him; for that office is held in such detestation by the Italian populace, that none of them will perform any part of its functions. The murderer is therefore pretty certain of gaining some church or convent, where he will be protected, till he can compound the matter with the relations of the deceased, or escape to some of the other Italian States; which is no very difficult matter, as the dominions of none are very extensive. Besides, when any of these assassins has not had the good fortune to get within the portico of a church before he is seized by the Sbirri, and when he is actually carried to prison, it is not a very difficult matter for his friends or relations to prevail, by their entreaties and tears, on some of the Cardinals or Princes, to interfere in his favour, and endeavour to obtain his pardon. If this is the case, and I am assured from authority which fully convinces me, that it is, we need be no longer surprised that murder is more common among the Italian populace than among the common people of any other country. As soon as asylums for such criminals are abolished, and justice is allowed to take its natural course, that foul stain will be entirely effaced from the national character of the modern Italians. This is already verified in the Grand Duke of Tuscanys dominions. The same edict which declared that churches and convents should no longer be places of refuge for murderers, has totally put a stop to the use of the stiletto; and the Florentine populace now fight with the same blunt weapons that are used by the common people of other nations. I am afraid you will think I have been a little prolix on this occasion; but I had two objects in view, and was solicitous about both. The first was to shew, that the treacherous and perfidious disposition imputed to the Italians, is, like most other national reflections, ill founded; and that the facts brought in proof of the accusation, proceed from other causes: the second was, to demonstrate to certain choleric gentlemen, who pretend to have ungovernable tempers, as an excuse for rendering every creature dependent on them miserable, that in their furious fits they not only behave ridiculously, but basely. In civil life, in England, they have the power of only making themselves contemptible; but in the army or navy, or in our islands, they often render themselves the objects of horror. LETTER XLIV. Rome. Thefts and crimes which are not capital are punished at Rome, and some other towns of Italy, by imprisonment, or by what is called the Cord. This last is performed in the street. The culprits hands are bound behind by a cord, which runs on a pully; he is then drawn up twenty or thirty feet from the ground, and, if lenity is intended, he is let down smoothly in the same manner he was drawn up. In this operation the whole weight of the criminals body is sustained by his hands, and a strong man can bear the punishment inflicted in this manner without future inconveniency; for the strength of the muscles of his arms enables him to keep his hands pressed on the middle of his back, and his body hangs in a kind of horizontal position. But when they intend to be severe, the criminal is allowed to fall from the greatest height to which he had been raised, and the fall is abruptly checked in the middle; by which means the hands and arms are immediately pulled above the head, both shoulders are dislocated, and the body swings, powerless, in a perpendicular line. It is a cruel and injudicious punishment, and left too much in the power of those who superintend the execution, to make it severe or not, as they are inclined. Breaking on the wheel is never used in Rome for any crime; but they sometimes put in practice another mode of execution, which is much more shocking in appearance than cruel in reality. The criminal being seated on a scaffold, the executioner, who stands behind, strikes him on the head with a hammer of a particular construction, which deprives him, at once, of all sensation. When it is certain that he is completely dead, the executioner, with a large knife, cuts his throat from ear to ear. This last part of the ceremony is thought to make a stronger impression on the minds of the spectators, than the bloodless blow which deprives the criminal of life. Whether the advantages resulting from this are sufficient to compensate for shocking the public eye with such abominable sights, I very much question. Executions are not frequent at Rome, for the reasons already given: there has been only one since our arrival; and those who are of the most forgiving disposition will acknowledge, that this criminal was not put to death till the measure of his iniquity was sufficiently full; he was condemned to be hanged for his fifth murder. I shall give you some account of his execution, and the ceremonies which accompanied it, because they throw some light on the sentiments and character of the people. First of all, there was a procession of priests, one of whom carried a crucifix on a pole hung with black; they were followed by a number of people in long gowns which covered them from head to foot, with holes immediately before the face, through which those in this disguise could see every thing perfectly, while they could not be recognized by the spectators. They are of the Company della Misericordia, which is a society of persons who, from motives of piety, think it a duty to visit criminals under sentence of death, endeavour to bring them to a proper sense of their guilt, assist them in making the best use of the short time they have to live, and who never forsake them till the moment of their execution. People of the first rank are of this society, and devoutly perform the most laborious functions of it. All of them carried lighted torches, and a few shook tin boxes, into which the multitude put money to defray the expence of masses for the soul of the criminal. This is considered by many as the most meritorious kind of charity; and some, whose circumstances do not permit them to bestow much, confine all the expence they can afford in charity, to the single article of purchasing masses to be said in behalf of those who have died without leaving a farthing to save their souls. The rich, say they, who have much superfluous wealth, may throw away part of it in acts of temporal charity; but it is, in a more particular manner, the duty of those who have little to give, to take care that this little shall be applied to the most beneficial purposes. What is the relieving a few poor families from the frivolous distresses of cold and hunger, in comparison of freeing them from many years burning in fire and brimstone? People are reminded of this essential kind of charity, not only by the preachers, but also by inscriptions upon the walls of particular churches and convents; and sometimes the aid of the pencil is called in to awaken the compunction of the unfeeling and hardhearted. On the external walls of some convents, immediately above the box into which you are directed to put your money, views of purgatory are painted in the most flaming colours, where people are seen in all the agonies of burning, raising their indignant eyes to those unmindful relations and acquaintances, who, rather than part with a little money, allow them to remain in those abodes of torment. One can hardly conceive how any mortal can pass such a picture without emptying his purse into the box, if, by so doing, he believed he could redeem, I will not say a human creature, but even a poor incorrigible dog, or vicious horse, from such a dreadful situation. As the Italians in general seem to have more sensibility than any people I am acquainted with, and as I see some, who cannot be supposed totally in want of money, pass by those pictures every day without putting a farthing into the box, I must impute this stinginess to a lack of faith rather than of sensibility. Such unmindful passengers are probably of the number of those who begin to suspect that the money of the living can be of little use to the dead. Being absolutely certain that it gives themselves much pain to part with it in this world, and doubtful whether it will have any efficacy in abridging the pains of their friends in the other, they hesitate for some time between the two risks, that of losing their own money, and that of allowing their neighbours soul to continue in torture; and it would appear that those sceptics generally decide the dispute in favour of the money. But in such a case as that which I have been describing, where a poor wretch is just going to be thrust by violence out of one world, and solicits a little money to secure him a tolerable reception in another, the passions of the spectators are too much agitated for cold reasoning, and the most niggardly sceptic throws his mite into the boxes of the Compagnia della Misericordia. Immediately after them came the malefactor himself, seated in a cart, with a Capucin Friar on each side of him. The hangman, with two assistants, dressed in scarlet jackets, walked by the cart. This procession having moved slowly round the gallows, which was erected in the Piazza del Populo, the culprit descended from the cart, and was led to a house in the neighbourhood, attended by the two Capucins. He remained there about half an hour, was confessed, and received absolution; after which he came out, exclaiming to the populace to join in prayers for his soul, and walked with a hurried pace to the gallows; the hangman and his assistants having hold of his arms, they supported him up the ladder, the unhappy man repeating prayers as fast as he could utter till he was turned off. He was not left a moment to himself. The executioner stepped from the ladder, and stood with a foot on each of his shoulders, supporting himself in that situation with his hands on the top of the gallows, the assistants at the same time pulling down the malefactors legs, so that he must have died in an instant. The executioner, in a short time, slid to the ground along the dead body, as a sailor slides on a rope. They then removed the cloth which covered his face, and twirled the body round with great rapidity, as if their intention had been to divert the mob; who, however, did not shew any disposition to be amused in that manner. The multitude beheld the scene with silent awe and compassion. During the time appointed by law for the body to hang, all the members of the procession, with the whole apparatus of torches, crucifixes, and Capucins, went into a neighbouring church, at the corner of the Strada del Babbuino, and remained there till a mass was said for the soul of the deceased; and when that was concluded, they returned in procession to the gallows, with a coffin covered with black cloth. On their approach, the executioner, with his assistants, hastily retired among the crowd, and were no more allowed to come near the body. The condemned person having now paid the forfeit due to his crimes, was no longer considered as an object of hatred; his dead body was therefore rescued from the contaminating touch of those who are held by the populace in the greatest abhorrence. Two persons in masks, and with black gowns, mounted the ladder and cut the rope, while others below, of the same society, received the body, and put it carefully into the coffin. An old woman then said, with an exalted voice, Adesso spero che lanima sua sia in paradiso; Now I hope his soul is in heaven; and the multitude around seemed all inclined to hope the same. The serious and compassionate manner in which the Roman populace beheld this execution, forms a presumption of the gentleness of their dispositions. The crimes of which this man had been guilty must naturally have raised their indignation, and his profession had a tendency to increase and keep it up; for he was one of the Sbirri, all of whom are held in the most perfect detestation by the common people; yet the moment they saw this object of their hatred in the character of a poor condemned man, about to suffer for his crimes, all their animosity ceased; no rancour was displayed, nor the least insult offered, which could disturb him in his last moments. They viewed him with the eyes of pity and forgiveness, and joined, with earnestness, in prayers for his future welfare. The manner in which this man was put to death was, no doubt, uncommonly mild, when compared with the atrocity of his guilt; yet I am convinced, that the solemn circumstances which accompanied his execution, made a greater impression on the minds of the populace, and would as effectually deter them from the crimes for which he was condemned, as if he had been broken alive on the wheel, and the execution performed in a less solemn manner. Convinced as I am that all horrid and refined cruelty in the execution of criminals is, at best, unnecessary, I never heard of any thing of that nature without horror and indignation. Other methods, no way connected with the sufferings of the prisoner, equally deter from the crime, and, in all other respects, have a better influence on the minds of the multitude. The procession described above, I plainly perceived, made a very deep impression. I thought I saw more people affected by it than I have formerly observed among a much greater crowd, who were gathered to see a dozen or fourteen of their fellowcreatures dragged to the same death for house breaking and highway robbery, mere venial offences, in companion of what this Italian had perpetrated. The attendance of the Capucins, the crucifixes, the Society of Misericordia, the ceremony of confession, all have a tendency to strike the mind with awe, and keep up the belief of a future state; and when the multitude behold so many people employed, and so much pains taken, to save the soul of one of the most worthless of mankind, they must think, that the saving of a soul is a matter of great importance, and therefore naturally infer, that the sooner they begin to take care of their own, the better. But when criminals are carried to execution with little or no solemnity, amidst the shouts of an unconcerned rabble, who applaud them in proportion to the degree of indifference and impenitence they display, and consider the whole scene as a source of amusement; how can such exhibitions make any useful impression, or terrify the thoughtless and desperate from any wicked propensity? If there is a country in which great numbers of young inconsiderate creatures are, six or eight times every year, carried to execution in this tumultuous, unaffecting manner, might not a stranger conclude, that the view of the legislature was to cut off guilty individuals in the least alarming way possible, that others might not be deterred from following their example? LETTER XLV. Rome. Those who have a real pleasure in contemplating the remains of antique, and the noblest specimens of modern architecture, who are struck with the inimitable delicacy and expression of Greek sculpture, and wish to compare it with the most successful efforts of the moderns, and who have an unwearied admiration of the charms of painting, may, provided they have not more important avocations elsewhere, employ a full year with satisfaction in this city. What is called a regular course with an Antiquarian, generally takes up about six weeks; employing three hours aday, you may, in that time, visit all the churches, palaces, villas, and ruins, worth seeing, in or near Rome. But after having made this course, however distinctly every thing may have been explained by the Antiquarian, if you do not visit the most interesting again and again, and reflect on them at more leisure, your labour will be of little use; for the objects are so various, and those you see on one day, so apt to be effaced by, or confounded with, those you behold on another, that you must carry away a very faint and indistinct recollection of any. Many travellers have experienced the truth of this observation. One young English gentleman, who happens not to be violently smitten with the charms of virt, and scorns to affect what he does not feel, thought that two or three hours aday, for a month or six weeks together, was rather too much time to bestow on a pursuit in which he felt no pleasure, and saw very little utility. The only advantage which, in his opinion, the greater part of us reaped from our six weeks tour, was, that we could say, we had seen a great many fine things which he had not seen. This was a superiority which he could not brook, and which he resolved we should not long enjoy. Being fully convinced, that the business might be, with a little exertion, dispatched in a very short space of time, he prevailed on a proper person to attend him; ordered a postchaise and four horses to be ready early in the morning, and driving through churches, palaces, villas, and ruins, with all possible expedition, he fairly saw, in two days, all that we had beheld during our crawling course of six weeks. I found afterwards, by the list he kept of what he had seen, that we had not the advantage of him in a single picture, or the most mutilated remnant of a statue. I do not propose this young gentlemans plan, as the very best possible; but of this I am certain, that he can give as satisfactory an account of the curiosities of Rome, as some people of my acquaintance who viewed them with equal sensibility, and at a great deal more leisure. Those travellers who cannot remain a considerable time at Rome, would do well to get a judicious list of the most interesting objects in architecture, sculpture, and painting, that are to be seen here; they ought to visit these frequently, and these only, by which means they will acquire a strong and distinct impression of what they see; instead of that transient and confused idea which a vast number of things, viewed superficially, and in a hurry, leave in the mind. After they have examined, with due attention, the most magnificent and best preserved remains of ancient architecture, very few have satisfaction in viewing a parcel of old bricks, which, they are told, formed the foundation of the baths of some of the Emperors. And there are not many who would regret their not having seen great numbers of statues and pictures of inferior merit, when they had beheld all that are universally esteemed the best. Would it not be highly judicious, therefore, in the greatest number of travellers, without abridging the usual time of the course, to make it much less comprehensive? Besides churches, there are about thirty palaces in Rome, as full of pictures as the walls can bear. The Borghese Palace alone is said to contain above sixteen hundred, all original. There are also ten or twelve villas in the neighbourhood of this city, which are usually visited by strangers. You may judge from this, what a task they undertake, who resolve to go through the whole; and what kind of an idea they are likely to carry away, who perform this task during a stay of a few months. Of the villas, the Pineiana, which belongs to the Borghese family, is the most remarkable. I shall confine myself to a few cursory remarks on some of the most esteemed curiosities it contains. The Hermaphrodite, of which you have seen so many prints and models, is accounted by many, one of the finest pieces of sculpture in the world. The mattress, upon which this fine figure reclines, is the work of the Cavalier Bernini, and nothing can be more admirably executed. Some critics say, he has performed his task too well, because the admiration of the spectator is divided between the statue and the mattress. This, however, ought not to be imputed as a fault to that great artist; since he condescended to make it at all, it was his business to make it as perfect as possible. I have heard of an artist at Versailles, in a different line, who attempted something of the same nature; he had exerted all his abilities in making a periwig for a celebrated preacher, who was to preach on a particular occasion before the court; and he imagined he had succeeded to a miracle. Ill be hanged, said he to one of his companions, if his Majesty, or any man of taste, will pay much attention to the sermon today. Among the antiques, there is a Centaur in marble, with a Cupid mounted on his back. The latter has the cestus of Venus, and the ivy crown of Bacchus, in allusion to beauty and wine; he beats the Centaur with his fist, and seems to kick with violence to drive him along. The Centaur throws back his head and eyes with a look of remorse, as if he were unwilling, though forced, to proceed. The execution of this group, is admired by those who look upon it merely as a jeu desprit; but it acquires additional merit, when considered as allegorical of men who are hurried on by the violence of their passions, and lament their own weakness, while they find themselves unable to resist. There is another figure which claims attention, more on account of the allegory than the sculpture. This is a small statue of Venus Cloacina, trampling on an impregnated uterus, and tearing the wings of Cupid. The allegory indicates, that prostitution is equally destructive of generation and love. Keysler mentioning this, calls it a statue of Venus, lamenting her rashness in clipping Cupids wings. The statue called Zingara, or the Fortuneteller, is antique, all but the head, which is Berninis; the face has a strong expression of that sly shrewdness, which belongs to those whose trade it is to impose on the credulity of the vulgar; with a great look of some modern gypsies I have seen, who have imposed most egregiously on the selflove and credulity of the great. Seneca dying in the Bath, in touchstone; round his middle is a girdle of yellow marble; he stands in a bason of blueish marble lined with porphyry; his knees seem to bend under him, from weakness; his features denote faintness, languor, and the approach of death; the eyes are enamelled, which gives the countenance a fierce and disagreeable look. Colouring the eyes always has a bad effect in sculpture; they form too violent a contrast with the other features, which remain of the natural colour of the marble. When the eyes are enamelled, it is requisite that all the face should be painted, to produce the agreeable harmony of life. The Faun dandling an infant Bacchus, is one of the gayest figures that can be imagined. In this Villa, there are also some highly esteemed pieces by Bernini. neas carrying his father; David slinging the stone at Goliah; and Apollo pursuing Daphne: the last is generally reckoned Berninis masterpiece; for my part, I have so bad a taste as to prefer the second. The figure of David is nervous, with great anatomical justness, and a strong expression of keenness and exertion to hit his mark, and kill his enemy; but the countenance of David wants dignity. An ancient artist, perhaps, could not have given more ardour, but he would have given more nobleness to the features of David. Some may say, that as he was but a shepherd, it was proper he should have the look of a clown; but it ought to be remembered, that David was a very extraordinary man; and if the artist who formed the Belvedere Apollo, or if Agasias the Ephesian, had treated the same subject, I imagine they would have rendered their work more interesting, by blending the noble air of an hero with the simple appearance of a shepherd. The figures of Apollo and Daphne err in a different manner. The face and figure of Apollo are deficient in simplicity; the noble simplicity of the best antique statues: he runs with affected graces, and his astonishment at the beginning transformation of his mistress is not, in my opinion, naturally expressed, but seems rather the exaggerated astonishment of an actor. The form and shape of Daphne are delicately executed; but in her face, beauty is, in some degree, sacrificed to the expression of terror; her features are too much distorted by fear. An ancient artist would have made her less afraid, that she might have been more beautiful. In expressing terror, pain, and other impressions, there is a point where the beauty of the finest countenance ends, and deformity begins. I am indebted to Mr. Lock for this observation. In some conversations I had with him at Cologny, on the subject of Sculpture, that gentleman remarked, that it was in the skilful and temperate exertion of her powers, in this noblest province of the art, expression, that ancient sculpture so much excelled the modern. She knew its limits, and had ascertained them with precision. As far as expression would go hand in hand with grace and beauty, in subjects intended to excite sympathy, she indulged her chisel; but where agony threatened to induce distortion, and obliterate beauty, she wisely set bounds to imitation, remembering, that though it may be moral to pity ugliness in distress, it is more natural to pity beauty in the same situation; and that her business was not to give the strongest representation of nature, but the representation which would interest us most. That ingenious gentleman, I remember, observed at the same time, that the Greek artists have been accused of having sacrificed character too much to technical proportion. He continued to observe, that what is usually called character in a face, is probably excess in some of its parts, and particularly of those which are under the influence of the mind, the leading passion of which marks some feature for its own. A perfectly symmetrical face bears no mark of the influence of either the passions or the understanding, and reminds you of Prometheuss clay without his fire. On the other hand, the moderns, by sacrificing too liberally those technical proportions, which, when religiously observed, produce beauty, to expression, have generally lost the very point which they contended for. They seemed to think, that when a passion was to be expressed, it could not be expressed too strongly; and that sympathy always followed in an exact proportion with the strength of the passion, and the force of its expression. But passions, in their extreme, instead of producing sympathy, generally excite feelings diametrically opposite. A vehement and clamorous demand of pity is received with neglect, and sometimes with disgust; whilst a patient and silent acquiescence under the pressure of mental affliction, or severe bodily pain, finds every heart upon an unison with its sufferings. The ancients knew to what extent expression may be carried, with good effect. The author of the famous Laocoon, in the Vatican, knew where to stop, and if the figure had been alone, it would have been perfect; there is exquisite anguish in the countenance, but it is borne in silence, and without distortion of features. Puget thought he could go beyond the author of Laocoon; he gave voice to his Milo; he made him roaring with pain, and lost the sympathy of the spectator. In confirmation of this doctrine, Mr. Lock desired, that when I should arrive at Rome, I would examine, with attention, the celebrated statue of Niobe, in the Villa de Medici. I have done so again and again, and find his remarks most strikingly just. The author of the Niobe has had the judgment not to exhibit all the distress which he might have placed in her countenance. This consummate artist was afraid of disturbing her features too much, knowing full well, that the point where he was to expect the most sympathy was there, where distress cooperated with beauty, and where our pity met our love. Had he sought it one step farther, in expression, he had lost it. It is unjust, you will say, that men should not sympathise with homely women in distress, in the same degree as they do with the beautiful. That is very true; but it is the business of the sculptor to apply his art to men as he finds them, not as they ought to be. Beside, this principle has full force, and is strictly true, only in sculpture and painting. For, in real life, a woman may engage a mans esteem and affections by a thousand fine qualities, and a thousand endearing ties, though she is entirely deficient in beauty. This Villa is also enriched by one of the most animated statues in the world, and which, in the opinion of many men of taste, comes nearest, and in the judgment of some, equals the Apollo of the Vatican. I mean the statue of the fighting Gladiator. It is difficult, however, to compare two pieces whose merits are so different. The Apollo is full of grace, majesty, and conscious superiority; he has shot his arrow, and knows its success. There is, indeed, a strong expression of indignation, which opens his lips, distends his nostrils, and contracts his brows; but it is the indignation of a superior being, who punishes while he scorns the efforts of his enemy. The Gladiator, on the contrary, full of fire and youthful courage, opposes an enemy that he does not fear; but whom, it is evident, he thinks worthy of his utmost exertion; every limb, nerve, and sinew, is in action; his ardent features indicate the strongest desire, the highest expectation, but not a perfect security of victory. His shape is elegant as well as nervous, expressive of agility as well as strength, and equally distant from the brawny strength of the Farnesian Hercules, and the effeminate softness of the Belvedere Antinous. The action is transitive (if the term may be so used), and preparatory only to another disposition of body and limbs, which are to enable him to strike, and which he cannot do in his present position; for the moment his right arm crossed the perpendicular line of his right leg, the whole figure would be out of its centre. His action seems a combination of the defensive and offensive; defensive in the present moment, the left arm being advanced to secure the adversarys blow; and preparing for offence in the next, the left leg already taking its spring to advance in order to give the figure a centre, which may enable it to strike, without risk of falling, if the blow should not take place. The action of the right arm, however, will always remain in some degree problematical, the ancient being lost; by whom the modern arm is restored, I never heard. Though this fine figure generally goes by the name of the fighting Gladiator, some antiquarians cannot allow, that ever it was intended to represent a person of that profession, but a Victor at the Olympic games; and allege, that Agasias of Ephesus, the sculptors name, being inscribed upon the pedestal, supports their opinion, because the Greeks never used gladiators. But I fear this argument has little weight; for the Greek slaves at Rome put their name to their work; and the free Greek artists, working in Greece, in public works, found difficulty in obtaining the same indulgence. Those who wish to rescue this statue from the ignoble condition of a common Gladiator, say further, that he looks up as if his adversary were on horseback, adding, that gladiators never fought on foot against horsemen on the Arena. Here again, I am afraid, they are mistaken. He looks no higher than the eye of an enemy on foot; the head must have a much greater degree of elevation to look up to the eye of an horseman, which is the part of your adversary which you always fix. Some learned gentlemen, not satisfied that this statue should be thrown indiscriminately among Gladiators and Victors of the Olympic games, have given it a particular and lasting character; they roundly assert, that it is the identical statue, made by order of the Athenian State, in honour of their countryman Chabrias; and that it is precisely in the attitude which, according to Cornelius Nepos, that hero assumed, when he repulsed the army of Agesilaus. This idea is in the true spirit of an antiquary. If, upon turning to that author, you remain unconvinced, and are interested in the honour of the statue, I can furnish you with no presumptive proof of its original dignity, except, that the character of the face is noble and haughty, unlike that of a slave and mercenary Gladiator. And there is no rope around the neck, as the Gladiator Moriens has, whom that circumstance sufficiently indicates to have been in that unfortunate situation. LETTER XLVI. Rome. A few days since I went to call on an artist of my acquaintance. I met, coming out of his door, an old woman, and a very handsome girl, remarkably well shaped. I rallied him a little on the subject of his visitors, and his good fortune in being attended in a morning by the prettiest girl I had seen since I came to Rome. I think myself fortunate, said he, in having found a girl so perfectly well made, who allows me to study her charms without restraint, and at a reasonable price; but I assure you, I can boast of no other kind of good fortune with her. I am convinced, rejoined I, that you take great pleasure in your studies, and there can be no doubt that you have made a very desirable progress. Of that you shall be the judge, replied he, leading me into another room, where I saw a full length painting of the girl, in the character of Venus, and in the usual dress of that goddess. There, said he, is the only effect my studies have had hitherto, and I begin to suspect that they will never produce any thing more nearly connected with the original. He then informed me, that the old woman I had seen was the girls mother, who never failed to accompany her daughter, when she came as a model to him; that the father was a tradesman, with a numerous family, who thought this the most innocent use that his daughters beauty could be put to, till she should get a husband; and to prevent its being put to any other, his wife always accompanied her. I have drawn her as Venus, added he; but, for any thing I know to the contrary, I should have approached nearer to her real character if I had painted her as Diana. She comes here merely in obedience to her parents, and gains her bread as innocently as if she were knitting purses in a convent from morning to night, without seeing the face of a man. However innocent all this may be, said I, there is something at which the mind revolts, in a mothers being present when her daughter acts a part which, if not criminal, is, at least, highly indelicate. To be sure, replied the painter, the woman has not quite so much delicacy as to starve, rather than let her daughter stand as a model; yet she seems to have attention to the girls chastity, too. Chastity! answered I, why this would shock an English woman more than any thing which could be proposed to her. Every other kind of liberty must have been previously taken with her. She must be a complete prostitute in every sense of the word, before she could be brought to submit to appear in this manner. Your observation is true, replied he; but it does not prove that those who submit to this, to prevent their becoming prostitutes, do not judge better than those who become prostitutes, and then submit to this. In different countries, continued he, people think very differently on subjects of this kind. The parents of this girl, to my knowledge, have refused considerable offers from men of fortune, to be allowed the privilege of visiting her. They are so very careful of preventing every thing of that nature, that she actually lies in the same bed with them both, which is another piece of indelicacy not uncommon among the lower people in Italy. These parents have the more merit in refusing such offers, as their acting otherwise would by no means be thought extraordinary; nor would it raise the same degree of indignation here as in some other countries of Europe. Breach of chastity, in females of low rank, is not considered here in the same heinous light that it is in some parts of Germany and Great Britain; where it is deemed a crime of such magnitude, as to require expiation, by a public rebuke from the parson in the middle of the church. I have heard of a clergyman in the North, who had occasion to rebuke a young woman for having borne a child before marriage. The accomplice in her guilt had married her immediately after her recovery; but this did not abate the parsons indignation against the wickedness they had previously committed. Magdalen, said he, with an aweful tone of voice, to the woman, you stand before this congregation to be rebuked for the barbarous and unnatural crime of fornication. The reverend clergyman, said I, in all probability intended to terrify his parishioners from such irregularities; and for this purpose imagined there would be no harm in putting them in the most odious point of view. This is attended, however, by one dreadful consequence, replied the artist, that these unhappy creatures, to conceal a fault of which such a horrible idea is given, and to prevent the shame of a public exposition in the church, are sometimes tempted to commit a crime which is in reality barbarous, and unnatural in the highest degree. There is nothing, continued he, which has a greater tendency to render any set of people worthless, than the idea that they are already considered as such. The women all over Great Britain, who live in an open and avowed breach of chastity, are generally more daringly wicked, and devoid of principle, than the Italian women who take the same liberties. Would you then, said I, have women of that kind more respected in Great Britain, in hopes that it might, in time, make them more respectable? I express no desire on the subject, replied he. I was only going to remark, that, in avoiding one inconveniency, mankind often fall into another; and that we are too apt to censure and ridicule customs and opinions different from those which prevail in our own country, without having sufficiently considered all their immediate and remote effects. I did not intend to decide, whether the indulgence with which women of a certain class are viewed in Italy, or the ignominy with which they are treated in Great Britain, has, upon the whole, the best effect in society. But I have observed, that the public courtezans in England often become quite abandoned, and forget all sense of gratitude or affection, even to their parents. But in Italy, women who never put any value on the virtue of chastity, those who sell their favours for money, display a goodness of character in other respects, and continue their duty and attachment to their parents as long as they live. Foreigners who form a connection with a girl in this country, find themselves very often obliged to maintain the father, mother, and whole family to which she belongs. The lover generally considers this as a very troublesome circumstance, and endeavours to inspire his Italian mistress with that total neglect of her family which prevails among women of her stamp in other countries; but he very seldom succeeds. An Italian woman is unwilling to quit her native city and her family, even for a man she loves; and seldom does, till he makes some provision for her nearest relations. You seem to have a very great affection for the Italian ladies; and, as far as I can perceive, said I, your passion is universal to the whole class in question; but you have said nothing to the essential article of religion. It is to be hoped, they do not allow the duties of their profession to make them neglect their souls. I see, replied the painter, you are disposed to laugh at all I have said in their favour; but in answer to your question, I will fairly own, that their religious, or, if you please, we shall rather call them their superstitious, sentiments, seem to be no way influenced by their profession; nor are the duties of their profession in any degree affected by these sentiments. They attend mass, and the ceremonies of devotion, with as much punctuality as if their lives were regular in all other respects; and they pass their lives, in other respects, as if they had never heard of any religious system but that of Epicurus. In some countries of Europe, women of their stamp often despise every appearance of decency, assume the disgusting depravity of male debauchees, with all the airs of affected infidelity, and real profligacy; but here they always remember they are women; and, after they have lost the most valued and brightest ornament of their sex, still endeavour to retain some of the others. After all you have said in their favour, said I, their condition is certainly not to be envied. If, therefore, you have any regard for your young Venus, you will do well to leave her under the care of her mother, and never endeavour to introduce her into the community whose eulogium you have been making. When I returned from the house of this artist, I found Mr.  waiting for me at our lodgings. He has of late paid his court very assiduously to a lady of high rank in this place: she is distinguished, even here, for a punctilious observance of all the ceremonies appointed by the church, and could not eat meat on a meagreday, or deviate from the canonical regulations in any point of equal importance, without remorse; but in matters of gallantry, she has the reputation of being infinitely more liberal, both in her sentiments and practice. She has been for some time provided with a very able and respectable lover, of her own country. This did not make her blind to the good qualities of Mr. , with whom she formed a very intimate connection, soon after his arrival here; not that she prefers him to her other lover, but merely from a strong sense of the truth and beauty of this arithmetical axiomone and one make two. The new arrangement with our countryman, however pleasing to the lady, gave offence to her Father Confessor. The scrupulous ecclesiastic was of opinion, that a connection of this nature with a heretic was more criminal than with a man of her own communion. Mr.  was just come from the lady to our lodgings; he had found her in worse humour than he had ever observed before, though her temper is not the mildest in the world. Mr.  entered as the Confessor went out; she shut the door after him with a violence which shook the whole house, muttering, as she returned to her seat, Che ti possino Cascar le braccia Vecchio Dondolone. Mr.  expressed his concern on seeing her so much agitated. No wonder, said she, that stubborn Animalaccio who is just gone out, has had the insolence to refuse me absolution. As I expected you this morning, I sent for him betimes, that the matter might have been expedited before you should come; but here I have been above an hour endeavouring to persuade him, but all to no purpose; nothing I could say was able to mollify the obstinate old greasy rascal. Mr.  joined in abusing the Confessors perverseness, hinting, at the same time, that she ought to despise it as a matter of little importance; that she was sure of receiving absolution sooner or later; and, whenever it happened, all the transactions of the interval would be comprehended within that act of grace. Upon the strength of this reasoning, Mr.  was proceeding to fulfil the purpose of his visit with as much alacrity as if the most complete discharge had been granted for all proceedingsPian Piano Idol mio, cried the lady, bisogna rimettersi alla volunt di Dio. She then told her lover, that although she despised the Confessor as much as he could do, yet she must take care of her own soul; that not having settled her accounts with heaven for a considerable time, she was determined not to begin a new score till the old should be cleared; adding, for her principal reason, Patto chiaro, amico caro. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. TRANSLATIONS OF THE LATIN AND ITALIAN QUOTATIONS IN THE FIRST VOLUME. Page 12. A hundred hours of vexation will not pay one farthing of debt. 19. Thro various hazards, and many cross events. 62. What we hear, With slower passion to the heart proceeds, Than when an audience views the very deeds. FRANCIS. Ibid. The business of the drama must appear in action or description. FRANCIS. 75. Like a youthful tree, of growth Insensible, high shoots his spreading fame. FRANCIS. 151. The place intended for the portrait of Marinus Fallierus, who was beheaded. 244. to the woods the wanton hies, And wishes to be seen before she flies. DRYDEN. 275. At length he founded Paduas happy seat. DRYDEN. Ibid. Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam, And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream; Upon a hill that day, if same be true, A learned Augur sat the skies to view: Tis come, the great event is come (he cryd)! Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide. ROWE. 281. Whence bullfaced Po adorned with gilded horns, Than whom no river, thro such level meads, Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds. WARTON. 291. Three brothers, the sons of Maria Theresa, Queen of Bohemia and Hungary, all of them distinguished by their virtues, and worthy of so illustrious a mother, were entertained at this inn, viz. Maximilian ArchDuke of Austria, who actually supped and passed the night here, on the 30th of May, 1775. Peter Leopold Grand Duke of Tuscany, and the Emperor Joseph the Second, the ornament and glory of the age, who dined here the following day. That such important events may not be lost in the flight of time, let this durable monument inform the latest posterity of the happiness which this inn enjoyed. 301. The Bononian Academy of arts and sciences, for the general use of the whole world. 315. Some are of opinion, that, captivated by the love of power, and having carefully weighed his own strength and that of his enemies, he had availed himself of this opportunity of seizing the supreme authority, which had been his passion from his early youth. Ibid. For if a violation of equity is ever excusable, it is when a crown is our objectOn all other occasions we ought to cultivate justice. 316. He never was deterred from any undertaking by religious scruples.When the animal, destined for sacrifice, fled from the altar, this bad omen did not prevent Csar from marching against Scipio and Juba. 317. The leader now had passed the torrent oer, And reached fair Italys forbidden shore: Then rearing on the hostile bank his head, Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)! Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside, Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide. Let fate and war the great event decide. He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent, Speedy to near Ariminum he bent; To him the Balearic sling is slow, And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow. ROWE. 321. How much the grandeur of thy rising state Owes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say, Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fate Of vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad day Which first, auspicious, as the darkness fled, Oer Latiums face a tide of glory shed. Through wide Hesperias towring cities, crushd With hideous fall and desolation dire, Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rushd; As through the pitchy pines destructive fire Devours its course, or howling Eurus raves, And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves. FRANCIS. 323. An Adriatic turbot, of a wonderful size, was caught before the temple of Venus, at Ancona, a city built by the Greeks. 344. Be not afraid, my good Sir, these walls are more firm than the Apennines. 369. Hannibal, having defeated the Romans at Thrasymene, and marching his army to Rome, was repulsed from Spoletto with great slaughter. The memorable flight of the Carthaginians gave name to this gate. 369. Hannibal marched straight through Umbria to Spoletto, and after having laid the country waste, when he began to attack the town, he was beat off, with great slaughter of his soldiers. Such a check from an inconsiderable colony, would naturally lead him to reflect on the difficulties he must encounter in subduing the Roman republic. 376. Narnia, surrounded by a sulphureous stream and dangerous cliffs, which render it almost inaccessible. 387. Hence the famd Latian line, and senates come, And the proud triumphs, and the towrs of Rome. PITT. 388. Yes, my Lordbut my husband is an old man. 388. O holy Virgin, how exceeding old he is! 408. Long live the Holy Father! Ibid. Your blessing, Holy Father. 411. This triumph, this, on Libyas utmost bound, With death and desolation compassed round, To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer, Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car; To Marius mighty name, and great Jugurthine war. ROWE. 412. What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear! Or each brave Scipios noble deeds declare? Africs dread foes; two thunderbolts of war! PITT. 415. Founded by Marcus Agrippa, the son of Lucius, during his third Consulship. 421. Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies; Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize; Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more, Or the light croud for his discharge implore. FRANCIS. 426. But if she has made an assignation, and wishes to be drest with more nicety than usualPoor Psecus (her female slave), with her hair torn about her ears, and stripped to the waist, adjusts the locks of her mistress. Why is this curl so high? Presently the whip punishes the disorder of the least hair. 428. every moment grows, And gains new strength and vigour as it goes. PITT. 435. Between whom Augustus reclining, quaffs nectar with purple lips. 436. My fame  shall bloom, And with unfading youth improve, While to th immortal fane of Jove The vestal maids, in silent state Ascending, on the Pontiff wait. FRANCIS. 436. Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give, From age to age your memory shall live; Long as th imperial Capitol shall stand, Or Romes majestic Lord the conquerd world command! PITT. 439. From whose bowels the Prince of Peace sprung. 446. Why does he hate the sunny plain, While he can sun or dust sustain? Or why no more, with martial pride, Amidst the youthful battle ride, And the fierce Gallic steed command, With bitted curb, and forming hand? Why does he fear the yellow flood? FRANCIS. 447. Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame, Till to the monarchs humble courts they came; There oxen stalkd, where palaces are raised, And bellowing herds in the proud Forum grazd. PITT. 517. The Devil go along with you for an old goose. 518. Softly, softly, my love. We must submit to the will of Heaven. Ibid. Short accounts make long friends. Illustration ERRATA. Page 67. line 4. for eloquence read elegance. 91.  19. for as well as them read as well as they. 464.  18. for certo read certa. 492.  13. for make it all read make it at all. 495.  last, for an antique artist read an ancient artist. 497.  3. for an antique artist read an ancient artist. 516.  10. for his arithmetical read this arithmetical. generously made available by The Internet Archive) Transcribers Note: Evident printing errors have been changed, but otherwise the original (and antiquated) spelling has been preserved, in both English and other languages. The errata have been corrected. A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN ITALY: WITH ANECDOTES relating to some EMINENT CHARACTERS. BY JOHN MOORE, M.D. VOL. II. Strenua nos exercet inertia: navibus atque Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est. HOR. THE SECOND EDITION. LONDON: Printed for W. STRAHAN; and T. CADELL, in the Strand. MDCCLXXXI. CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. LETTER XLVI. p. 1. Busts and statues of distinguished Romansof Heathen Deities.Passion of the Greeks and Romans for Sculpture.Farnesian Hercules criticised by a Lady.Remarks on that statue.On the Flora.Effect which the sight of the statues of Laocoon and his sons had on two spectators of opposite characters.Mr. Locks Observations on the same group.The Antinous.The Apollo. LETTER XLVII. p. 21. The present Pope.Ganganelli.A Scotch Presbyterian. LETTER XLVIII. p. 34. Zeal of Pius VI.Institution of the Jubilee.Ceremony of building up the holy door of St. Peters by the present Pope.The ceremony of high mass performed by the Pope on Christmasday.Character of the present Pope.He is admired by the Roman women.The Benediction pronounced in the grand area before the church of St. Peters. LETTER XLIX. p. 48. Presented to the Pope.Reflections on the situation of Sovereigns in general.The Sovereign Pontiff in particular. LETTER L. p. 63. Modern Romans.Roman women compared with those of England.Portrait painting in Italy, and elsewhere. LETTER LI. p. 78. Carnival at Rome.Masquerades and other amusements in the Corso.Horseraces.Serious Opera.Great sensibility in a young woman.Extravagant expression of a Roman citizen at the Opera.A Serenade on Christmas morning.Female performers prohibited on the Theatres at Rome.Eunuchs substituted.The effect on the minds of spectators. LETTER LII. p. 91. Journey from Rome to Naples.Veletri.Otho.Sermonetta.Peevish Travellers.Monte Circello.Piperno.Fossa Nuova. LETTER LIII. p. 104. Terracina.Via Appia.Fundi.Gaeta.Illustrious French Rebels.Bourbon.Minturn.Marius.Hannibal. LETTER LIV. p. 120. Naples.Fortress of St. Elmo.Conversation with a Lady regarding the Carthusians.Manufactures.Number of inhabitants. LETTER LV. p. 131. Manners. LETTER LVI. p. 138. Respect paid to Kings during their lives.Freedoms used with their characters after their deaths.The King of Naples.A game at billiards.Characters of the King and Queen. LETTER LVII. p. 147. The Neapolitan Nobles.The Peasants. LETTER LVIII. p. 158. Citizens.Lawyers.Physicians.Clergy.Convents.Lazzaroni. LETTER LIX. p. 168. Herculaneum.Portici.Pompeia. LETTER LX. p. 186. Poetical Rehearsers in the streets of Naples.Street Orators and HistoriansImprouvisatories.Signora Corilla.Sensibility of Italians.English Gentlemen of the Ton.A Neapolitan Mountebank. LETTER LXI. p. 204. A visit to Mount Vesuvius. LETTER LXII. p. 217. Observations on the pulmonary Consumption. LETTER LXIII. p. 257. Neapolitan and English customs and characters criticised and compared, in a conversation between two English Gentlemen. LETTER LXIV. p. 273. The liquefaction of St. Januariuss blood.Procession, ceremonies, anxiety of the people.Their preposterous abuse of the Saint.Observation of a Roman Catholic. LETTER LXV. p. 290. The Tomb of Virgil.Pausilippo.A Neapolitan Valet.Grotta del Cane.Campi Phlegrei, Solfaterra, Monte Nuova, c.Puzzoli.Baia.Cum. LETTER LXVI. p. 301. Palace of Casserta.African slaves.Gardens.Fortifications. LETTER LXVII. p. 308. Character of the Archduchess.Attend the King and Queen on a visit to four nunneries.Entertainments there.Effect of the climate on the constitution of Nuns and others. LETTER LXVIII. p. 318. Tivoli. LETTER LXIX. p. 330. Frescati and Albano.Dialogue between an English and Scotch Gentleman. LETTER LXX. p. 350. Florence.The English Minister.Grand Duke and Duchess.Florentines.Particular species of virt. LETTER LXXI. p. 359. Gallery.Dialogue between an Antiquarian and a young Man concerning the Arrotino.The Tribuna.The Gallery of Portraits. LETTER LXXII. p. 370. State of the common people, particularly the peasants in Italy.Of Roman Catholic Clergy.Clergy in general. LETTER LXXIII. p. 389. Manners.The Count Albany. LETTER LXXIV. p. 398. Cicisbeism. LETTER LXXV. p. 408. The same subject continued. LETTER LXXVI. p. 421. Commerce.Jews.Actors.The Chapel of St. Lorenzo.The rich not envied by the poor.The Palazzo Pitti.Observations on the Madonna della Seggiola. LETTER LXXVII. p. 431. A public Discourse by a Professor at the Academy of Arts at Bologna.Procession of Corpus Domini.Modena.Parma.Different opinions respecting a famous picture of Correggio. LETTER LXXVIII. p. 441. Milan.The Cathedral.Museum.Manners. LETTER LXXIX. p. 451. Turin.St. Ambrose.A Procession.Mount Cenis.Modane.Aiguebelle.Hannibals passage into Italy. LETTER LXXX. p. 464. Journey from Geneva to Besanon.Observation of a French peasant.Of an old Woman.Remarks of a French Friseur on the English nation. LETTER LXXXI. p. 472. The Marquis de F. LETTER LXXXII. p. 483. Reflections on foreign travel. Illustration A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN ITALY. Illustration LETTER XLVI. Rome. I beg you may not suspect me of affectation, or that I wish to assume the character of a connoisseur, when I tell you, that I have very great pleasure in contemplating the antique statues and busts, of which there are such numbers in this city. It is a natural curiosity, and I have had it all my life in a strong degree, to see celebrated men, those whose talents and great qualities can alone render the present age an interesting object to posterity, and prevent its being lost, like the dark ages which succeeded the destruction of the Roman empire, in the oblivious vortex of time, leaving scarcely a wreck behind. The durable monuments raised to fame by the inspiring genius of Pitt, and the invincible spirit of Frederick, will command the admiration of future ages, outlive the power of the empires which they aggrandized, and forbid the period in which they flourished, from ever passing away like the baseless fabric of a vision. The busts and statues of those memorable men will be viewed, by succeeding generations, with the same regard and attention which we now bestow on those of Cicero and Csar. We expect to find something peculiarly noble and expressive in features which were animated, and which, we imagine, must have been in some degree modelled, by the sentiments of those to whom they belonged. It is not rank, it is character alone which interests posterity. We know that men may be seated on thrones, who would have been placed more suitably to their talents on the workingtable of a taylor; we therefore give little attention to the busts or coins of the vulgar emperors. In the countenance of Claudius, we expect nothing more noble than the phlegmatic tranquillity of an acquiescing cuckold; in Caligula or Nero, the unrelenting frown of a negrodriver, or the insolent air of any unprincipled ruffian in power. Even in the highpraised Augustus we look for nothing essentially great, nothing superior to what we see in those minions of fortune, who are exalted, by a concurrence of incidents, to a situation in life to which their talents would never have raised them, and which their characters never deserved. In the face of Julius we expect to find the traces of deep reflection, magnanimity, and the anxiety natural to the man who had overturned the liberties of his native country, and who must have secretly dreaded the resentment of a spirited people; and in the face of Marcus Brutus we look for independence, conscious integrity, and a mind capable of the highest effort of virtue. It is natural to regret, that, of the number of antique statues which have come to us tolerably entire, so great a proportion are representations of gods and goddesses. Had they been intended for real persons, we might have had a perfect knowledge of the face and figure of the greatest part of the most distinguished citizens of ancient Greece and Rome. A man of unrelaxing wisdom would smile with contempt, and ask, if our having perfect representations of all the heroes, poets, and philosophers recorded in history, would make us either wiser or more learned? to which I answer, That there are a great many things, which neither can add to my small stock of learning nor wisdom, and yet give me more pleasure and satisfaction than those which do; and, unfortunately for mankind, the greatest part of them resemble me in this particular. But though I would with pleasure have given up a great number of the Jupiters and Apollos and Venuses, whose statues we have, in exchange for an equal, or even a smaller, number of mere mortals whom I could name; I by no means consider the statues of those deities as uninteresting. Though they are imaginary beings, yet each of them has a distinct character of his own of classical authority, which has long been impressed on our memories; and we assume the right of deciding on the artists skill, and applauding or blaming, as he has succeeded or failed in expressing the established character of the god intended. From the ancient artists having exercised their genius in forming the images of an order of beings superior to mankind, another and a greater advantage is supposed to have followed; it prompted the artists to attempt the uniting in one form, the various beauties and excellencies which nature had dispersed in many. This was not so easy a task as may by some be imagined; for that which has a fine effect in one particular face or person, may appear a deformity when combined with a different complexion, different features, or a different shape. It therefore required great judgment and taste to collect those various graces, and combine them with elegance and truth; and repeated efforts of this kind are imagined to have inspired some of the ancient sculptors with sublimer ideas of beauty than nature herself ever exhibited, as appears in some of their works which have reached our own times. Though the works of no modern artist can stand a comparison with the great masterpieces now alluded to, yet nothing can be more absurd than the idea which some people entertain, that all antique statues are of more excellent workmanship than the modern. We see, every day, numberless specimens of every species of sculpture, from the largest statues and bassosrelievos, to the smallest cameos and intaglios, that are undoubtedly antique, and yet far inferior, not only to the works of the best artists of Leo the Tenths time, but also to those of many artists now alive in various parts of Europe. The passion for sculpture, which the Romans caught from the Greeks, became almost universal. Statues were not only the chief ornaments of their temples and palaces, but also of the houses of the middle, and even the lowest, order of citizens. They were prompted to adorn them with the figures of a few favourite deities, by religion, as well as vanity: no man, but an atheist or a beggar, could be without them. This being the case, we may easily conceive what graceless divinities many of them must have been; for in this, no doubt, as in every other manufactory, there must occasionally have been bungling workmen employed, even in the most flourishing ra of the arts, and goods finished in a very careless and hurried manner, to answer the constant demand, and suit the dimensions of every purse. We must have a very high idea of the number of statues of one kind or other, which were in old Rome, when we consider, how many are still to be seen; how many have at different periods been carried away, by the curious, to every country in Europe; how many were mutilated and destroyed by the gothic brutality of Barbarians, and the illdirected zeal of the early Christians, who thought it a duty to exterminate every image, without distinction of age or sex, and without considering whether they were of God or man. This obliged the wretched heathens to hide the statues of their gods and of their ancestors in the bowels of the earth, where unquestionably great numbers of them still remain. Had they not been thus barbarously hewed to pieces, and buried, I had almost said, alive, we might have had several equal to the great masterpieces in the Vatican; for it is natural to imagine, that the rage of the zealots would be chiefly directed against those statues which were in the highest estimation with the heathens; and we must likewise imagine, that these would be the pieces which they, on their part, would endeavour, by every possible means, to preserve from their power, and bury in the earth. Of those which have been dug up, I shall mention only a very few, beginning with the Farnesian Hercules, which has been long admired as an exquisite model of masculine strength; yet, admirable as it is, it does not please all the world. I am told that the women in particular find something unsatisfactory, and even odious, in this figure; which, however majestic, is deficient in the charms most agreeable to them, and which might have been expected in the son of Jupiter and the beauteous Alcmena. A lady whom I accompanied to the Farnese palace, turned away from it in disgust. I could not imagine what had shocked her. She told me, after recollection, that she could not bear the stern severity of his countenance, his large brawny limbs, and the club with which he was armed; which gave him more the appearance of one of those giants that, according to the old romances, carried away virgins and shut them up in gloomy castles, than the gallant Hercules, the lover of Omphale. Finally, the lady declared, she was convinced this statue could not be a just representation of Hercules; for it was not in the nature of things, that a man so formed could ever have been a reliever of distressed damsels. Without such powerful support as that of the fair sex, I should not have exposed myself to the resentment of connoisseurs, by any expression which they might construe an attack upon this favourite statue; but, with their support, I will venture to assert, that the Farnese Hercules is faulty both in his form and attitude: the former is too unwieldy for active exertion, and the latter exhibits vigour exhausted. A resting attitude is surely not the most proper in which the allconquering god of strength could be represented. Rest implies fatigue, and fatigue strength exhausted. A reposing Hercules is almost a contradiction. Invincible activity, and inexhaustible strength, are his characteristics. The ancient artist has erred, not only in giving him an attitude which supposes his strength wants recruiting, but in the nature of the strength itself, the character of which should not be passive, but active. Near to Hercules, under the arcades of the same Palazzo Farnese, is a most beautiful statue of Flora. The great advantage which ancient artists had in attending the exercises of the gymnasia, has been repeatedly urged as the reason of their superiority over the moderns in sculpture. We are told, that besides the usual exercises of the gymnasia, all those who proposed to contend at the Olympic games, were obliged, by the regulations, to prepare themselves, by exercising publicly for a year at Elis; and the statuaries and painters constantly attended on the Arena, where they had opportunities of beholding the finest shaped, the most graceful, and most vigorous of the Grecian youth employed in those manly sports, in which the power of every muscle was exerted, and all their various actions called forth, and where the human form appeared in an infinite variety of different attitudes. By a constant attendance at such a school, independent of any other circumstance, the artists are supposed to have acquired a more animated, true, and graceful style, than possibly can be caught from viewing the tame, mercenary models, which are exhibited in our academies. On the other hand, I have heard it asserted, that the artist, who formed the Farnesian Flora, could not have improved his work, or derived any of its excellencies, from the circumstances above enumerated; because the figure is in a standing posture, and clothed. In the light, easy flow of the drapery, and in the contour of the body being as distinctly pronounced through it, as if the figure were naked, the chief merit of this statue is thought to consist. But this reasoning does not seem just; for the daily opportunities the ancient artists had of seeing naked figures, in every variety of action and attitude, must have given them advantages over the moderns, in forming even drapery figures. At Sparta, the women, upon particular occasions, danced naked. In their own families; they were seen every day clothed in light draperies; and so secondary was every consideration, even that of decency, to art, that the prettiest virgins of Agrigentum, it is recorded, were called upon by the legislature, without distinction, to shew themselves naked to a painter, to enable him to paint a Venus. Whilst the moderns, therefore, must acknowledge their inferiority to the ancients in the art of sculpture, they may be allowed merit, on account of the cause, to which it seems, in some measure at least, to be owing. The finest specimens of antique sculpture are to be seen in the Vatican. In these the Greek artists display an unquestionable superiority over the most successful efforts of the moderns. For me to attempt a description of these masterpieces, which have been described a thousand times, and imitated as often, without once having had justice done them, would be equally vain and superfluous. I confine myself to a very few observations. The most insensible of mankind must be struck with horror at sight of the Laocoon. On one of my visits to the Vatican, I was accompanied by two persons, who had never been there before: one of them is accused of being perfectly callous to every thing which does not immediately touch his own person; the other is a worthy, good man: the first, after staring for some time with marks of terror at the groupe, at length recovered himself; exclaiming with a laugh,Egad, I was afraid these dd serpents would have left the fellows they are devouring, and made a snap at me; but I am happy to recollect they are of marble.I thank you, Sir, most heartily, said the other, for putting me in mind of that circumstance; till you mentioned it, I was in agony for those two youths. Nothing can be conceived more admirably executed than this affecting groupe; in all probability, it never would have entered into my own head that it could have been in any respect improved. But when I first had the happiness of becoming acquainted with Mr. Lock, a period of my life which I shall always recollect with peculiar pleasure, I remember my conversing with him upon this subject; and that Gentleman, after mentioning the execution of this piece, in the highest terms of praise, observed that, had the figure of Laocoon been alone, it would have been perfect. As a man suffering the most excruciating bodily pain with becoming fortitude, it admits of no improvement; his proportions, his form, his action, his expression, are exquisite. But when his sons appear, he is no longer an insulated, suffering individual, who, when he has met pain and death with dignity, has done all that could be expected from man; he commences father, and a much wider field is opened to the artist. We expect the deepest pathos in the exhibition of the sublimest character that art can offer to the contemplation of the human mind: A father forgetting pain, and instant death, to save his children. This Sublime and Pathetic the artist either did not see, or despaired of attaining. Laocoons sufferings are merely corporal; he is deaf to the cries of his agonizing children, who are calling on him for assistance. But had he been throwing a look of anguish upon his sons, had he seemed to have forgotten his own sufferings in theirs, he would have commanded the sympathy of the spectator in a much higher degree. On the whole, Mr. Lock was of opinion, that the execution of this groupe is perfect, but that the conception is not equal to the execution. I shall leave it to others to decide whether Mr. Lock, in these observations, spoke like a man of taste: I am sure he spoke like a father. I have sensibility to feel the beauty and justness of the remark, though I had not the ingenuity to make it. It is disputed whether this groupe was formed from Virgils description of the death of Laocoon and his sons, or the description made from the groupe; it is evident, from their minute resemblance, that one or other must have been the case. The Poet mentions a circumstance, which could not be represented by the sculptor; he says that, although every other person around sought safety by flight, the father was attacked by the serpents, while he was advancing to the assistance of his sons auxilio subeuntem ac tela ferentem. This deficiency in the sculptors art would have been finely supplied by the improvement which Mr. Lock proposed. Reflecting on the dreadful condition of three persons entangled in the horrid twinings of serpents, and after contemplating the varied anguish so strongly expressed in their countenances, it is a relief to turn the eye to the heavenly figure of the Apollo. To form an adequate idea of the beauty of this statue, it is absolutely necessary to see it. With all the advantages of colour and life, the human form never appeared so beautiful; and we never can sufficiently admire the artist, who has endowed marble with a finer expression of grace, dignity, and understanding, than ever were seen in living features. In the forming of this inimitable figure, the artist seems to have wrought after an ideal form of beauty, superior to any in nature, and which existed only in his own imagination. The admired statue of Antinous is in the same Court. Nothing can be more light, elegant, and easy; the proportions are exact, and the execution perfect. It is an exquisite representation of the most beautiful youth that ever lived. The statue of Apollo represents something superior, and the emotions it excites are all of the sublime cast. LETTER XLVII. Rome. The present Pope, who has assumed the name of Pius the Sixth, is a tall, wellmade man, about sixty years of age, but retaining in his look all the freshness of a much earlier period of life. He lays a greater stress on the ceremonious part of religion than his predecessor Ganganelli, in whose reign a great relaxation of churchdiscipline is thought to have taken place. The late Pope was a man of moderation, good sense, and simplicity of manners; and could not go through all the ostentatious parade which his station required, without reluctance, and marks of disgust. He knew that the opinions of mankind had undergone a very great change since those ceremonies were established; and that some of the most respectable of the spectators considered as perfectly frivolous many things which formerly had been held as sacred. A man of good sense may seem to lay the greatest weight on ceremonies which he himself considers as ridiculous, provided he thinks the people, in whose sight he goes through them, are impressed with a conviction of their importance; but if he knows that some of the beholders are entirely of a different way of thinking, he will be strongly tempted to evince, by some means or other, that he despises the fooleries he performs, as much as any of them. This, in all probability, was the case with Ganganelli; who, besides, was an enemy to fraud and hypocrisy of every kind. But, however remiss he may have been with regard to the etiquette of his spiritual functions, every body acknowledges his diligence and activity in promoting the temporal good of his subjects. He did all in his power to revive trade, and to encourage manufactures and industry of every kind. He built no churches, but he repaired the roads all over the ecclesiastical state; he restrained the malevolence of bigots, removed absurd prejudices, and promoted sentiments of charity and goodwill to mankind in general, without excepting even heretics. His enemies, the Jesuits, with an intention to make him odious in the eyes of his own subjects, gave him the name of the Protestant Pope. If they supposed that this calumny would be credited, on account of the conduct above mentioned, they at once paid the highest compliment to the Pope and the Protestant religion. The careless manner in which Ganganelli performed certain functions, and the general tenour of his life and sentiments, were lamented by politicians, as well as by bigots. However frivolous the former might think many ceremonies in themselves, they still considered them as of political importance, in such a government as that of Rome; and the Conclave held on the death of the late Pope, are thought to have been in some degree influenced by such considerations in chusing his successor. The present Pope, before he was raised to that dignity, was considered as a firm believer in all the tenets of the Roman Church, and a strict and scrupulous observer of all its injunctions and ceremonials. As his pretensions, in point of family, fortune, and connexions, were smaller than those of most of his brother cardinals, it is the more probable that he owed his elevation to this part of his character, which rendered him a proper person to check the progress of abuses that had been entirely neglected by the late Pope; under whose administration freethinking was said to have been countenanced, Protestantism in general regarded with diminished abhorrence, and the Calvinists in particular treated with a degree of indulgence, to which their inveterate enmity to the church of Rome gave them no title. Several instances of this are enumerated, and one in particular, which, I dare say, you will think a stronger proof of the late Popes good sense and good humour, than of that negligence to which his enemies imputed it. A Scotch presbyterian having heated his brain, by reading the Book of Martyrs, the cruelties of the Spanish Inquisition, and the Histories of all the persecutions that ever were raised by the Roman Catholics against the Protestants, was seized with a dread, that the same horrors were just about to be renewed. This terrible idea disturbed his imagination day and night; he thought of nothing but racks and scaffolds; and, on one occasion, he dreamt that there was a continued train of bonfires, with a tarbarrel and a Protestant in each, all the way from Smithfield to St. Andrews. He communicated the anxiety and distress of his mind to a worthy sensible clergyman who lived in the neighbourhood. This gentleman took great pains to quiet his fears, proving to him, by strong and obvious arguments, that there was little or no danger of such an event as he dreaded. These reasonings had a powerful effect while they were delivering, but the impression did not last, and was always effaced by a few pages of the Book of Martyrs. As soon as the clergyman remarked this, he advised the relations to remove that, and every book which treated of persecution or martyrdom, entirely out of the poor mans reach. This was done accordingly, and books of a less gloomy complexion were substituted in their place; but as all of them formed a strong contrast with the colour of his mind, he could not bear their perusal, but betook himself to the study of the Bible, which was the only book of his ancient library which had been left; and so strong a hold had his former studies taken of his imagination, that he could relish no part of the Bible, except the Revelation of St. John, a great part of which, he thought, referred to the whore of Babylon, or in other words, the Pope of Rome. This part of the scripture he perused continually with unabating ardor and delight. His friend the clergyman, having observed this, took occasion to say, that every part of the Holy Bible was, without doubt, most sublime, and wonderfully instructive; yet he was surprised to see that he limited his studies entirely to the last book, and neglected all the rest. To which the other replied, That he who was a divine, and a man of learning, might, with propriety, read all the sacred volume from beginning to end; but, for his own part, he thought proper to confine himself to what he could understand; and therefore, though he had a due respect for all the scripture, he acknowledged he gave a preference to the Revelation of St. John. This answer entirely satisfied the clergyman; he did not think it expedient to question him any farther; he took his leave, after having requested the people of the family with whom this person lived, to have a watchful eye on their relation. In the mean time, this poor mans terrors, with regard to the revival of popery and persecution, daily augmented; and nature, in all probability, would have sunk under the weight of such accumulated anxiety, had not a thought occurred which relieved his mind in an instant, by suggesting an infallible method of preventing all the evils which his imagination had been brooding over for so long a time. The happy idea which afforded him so much comfort, was no other, than that he should immediately go to Rome, and convert the Pope from the Roman Catholic to the Presbyterian religion. The moment he hit on this fortunate expedient, he felt at once the strongest impulse to undertake the task, and the fullest conviction that his undertaking would be crowned with success; it is no wonder, therefore, that his countenance threw off its former gloom, and that all his features brightened with the heartfelt thrillings of happiness and selfapplause. While his relations congratulated each other on this agreeable change, the exulting visionary, without communicating his design to any mortal, set out for London, took his passage to Leghorn, and, in a short time after, arrived in perfect health of body, and in exalted spirits, at Rome. He directly applied to an ecclesiastic of his own country, of whose obliging temper he had previously heard, and whom he considered as a proper person to procure him an interview necessary for the accomplishment of his project. He informed that gentleman, that he earnestly wished to have a conference with the Pope, on a business of infinite importance, and which admitted of no delay. It was not difficult to perceive the state of this poor mans mind; the goodnatured ecclesiastic endeavoured to sooth and amuse him, putting off the conference till a distant day; in hopes that means might be fallen on, during the interval, to prevail on him to return to his own country. A few days after this, however, he happened to go to St. Peters church, at the very time when his Holiness was performing some religious ceremony. At this sight our impatient missionary felt all his passions inflamed with irresistible ardour; he could no longer wait for the expected conference, but bursting out with zealous indignation, he exclaimed, O thou beast of nature, with seven heads and ten horns! thou mother of harlots, arrayed in purple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls! throw away the golden cup of abominations, and the filthiness of thy fornication! You may easily imagine the astonishment and hubbub that such an apostrophe, from such a person, in such a place, would occasion; he was immediately carried to prison by the Swiss halberdiers. When it was known that he was a British subject, some who understood English were ordered to attend his examination. The first question asked of him was, What had brought him to Rome? He answered, To anoint the eyes of the scarlet whore with eyesalve, that she might see her wickedness. They asked, Who he meant by the scarlet whore? He answered, Who else could he mean, but her who sitteth upon seven mountains, who hath seduced the kings of the earth to commit fornication, and who hath gotten drunk with the blood of the saints, and the blood of the martyrs? Many other questions were asked, and such provoking answers returned, that some suspected the man affected madness, that he might give vent to his rancour and petulance with impunity; and they were for condemning him to the gallies, that he might be taught more sense, and better manners. But when they communicated their sentiments to Clement the Fourteenth, he said, with great good humour, That he never had heard of any body whose understanding, or politeness, had been much improved at that school; that although the poor mans first address had been a little rough and abrupt, yet he could not help considering himself as obliged to him for his good intentions, and for his undertaking such a long journey with a view to do good. He afterwards gave orders to treat the man with gentleness while he remained in confinement, and to put him on board the first ship bound from Civita Vecchia to England, defraying the expence of his passage. However humane and reasonable this conduct may be thought by many, there were people who condemned it as an injudicious piece of lenity, which might have a tendency to sink the dignity of the sacred office, and expose it to future insults. If such behaviour as this did not pass without blame, it may be easily supposed, that few of the late Popes actions escaped uncensured; and many who loved the easy amiable dispositions of the man, were of opinion, that the spirit of the times required a different character on the Papal throne. This idea prevailed among the Cardinals at the late election, and the Conclave is supposed to have fixed on Cardinal Braschi to be Pope, from the same motive that the Roman senate sometimes chose a Dictator to restore and enforce the ancient discipline. LETTER XLVIII. Rome. Pius the Sixth performs all the religious functions of his office in the most solemn manner; not only on public and extraordinary occasions, but also in the most common acts of devotion. I happened lately to be at St. Peters church, when there was scarcely any other body there; while I lounged from chapel to chapel, looking at the sculpture and paintings, the Pope entered with a very few attendants; when he came to the statue of St. Peter, he was not satisfied with bowing, which is the usual mark of respect shewn to that image; or with kneeling, which is performed by more zealous persons; or with kissing the foot, which I formerly imagined concluded the climax of devotion; he bowed, he knelt, he kissed the foot, and then he rubbed his brow and his whole head with every mark of humility, fervour, and adoration, upon the sacred stump.It is no more, one half of the foot having been long since worn away by the lips of the pious; and if the example of his Holiness is universally imitated, nothing but a miracle can prevent the leg, thigh, and other parts from meeting with the same fate. This uncommon appearance of zeal in the Pope, is not imputed to hypocrisy or to policy, but is supposed to proceed entirely from a conviction of the efficacy of those holy frictions; an opinion which has given people a much higher idea of the strength of his faith, than of his understanding. This being jubilee year, he may possibly think a greater appearance of devotion necessary now, than at any other time. The first jubilee was instituted by Boniface the Eighth, in the year 1300. Many ceremonies and institutions of the Roman Catholic church are founded on those of the old Heathens. This is evidently an imitation of the Roman secular games, which were exhibited every hundredth year in honour of the gods1; they lasted three days and three nights; they were attended with great pomp, and drew vast numbers of people to Rome, from all parts of Italy, and the most distant provinces. Boniface, recollecting this, determined to institute something analogous, which would immortalize his own name, and promote the interest of the Roman Catholic religion in general, and that of the city of Rome in particular. He embraced the favourable opportunity which the beginning of a century presented; he invented a few extraordinary ceremonies, and declared the year 1300 the first jubilee year, during which he assured mankind, that heaven would be in a particular manner propitious, in granting indulgences, and remission of sins, to all who should come to Rome, and attend the functions there to be performed, at this fortunate period, which was not to occur again for a hundred years. This drew a great concourse of wealthy sinners to Rome; and the extraordinary circulation of money it occasioned, was strongly felt all over the Popes dominions. Clement the Sixth, regretting that these advantages should occur so seldom, abridged the period, and declared there would be a jubilee every fifty years; the second was accordingly celebrated in the year 1350. Sixtus the Fifth, imagining that the interval was still too long, once more retrenched the half; and ever since there has been a jubilee every twentyfifth year2. It is not likely that any future Pope will think of shortening this period; if any alteration were again to take place, it most probably would be, to restore the ancient period of fifty or a hundred years; for, instead of the wealthy pilgrims who flocked to Rome from every quarter of Christendom, ninetynine in a hundred of those who come now, are supported by alms during their journey, or are barely able to defray their own expences by the strictest conomy; and his Holiness is supposed at present to derive no other advantage from the uncommon fatigue he is obliged to go through on the jubilee year, except the satisfaction he feels, in reflecting on the benefit his labours confer on the souls of the beggars, and other travellers, who resort from all corners of Italy to Rome, on this blessed occasion. The States which border on the Popes dominions, suffer many temporal inconveniencies from the zeal of the peasants and manufacturers, the greater part of whom still make a point of visiting St. Peters on the jubilee year; the loss sustained by the countries which such emigrants abandon, is not balanced by any advantage transferred to that to which they resort; the good arising on the whole, being entirely of a spiritual nature. By far the greater number of pilgrims come from the kingdom of Naples, whose inhabitants are said to be of a very devout and very amorous disposition. The first prompts them to go to Rome in search of that absolution which the second renders necessary; and on the year of jubilee, when indulgences are to be had at an easier rate than at any other time, those who can afford it generally carry away such a stock, as not only is sufficient to clear old scores, but will also serve as an indemnifying fund for future transgressions. There is one door into the church of St. Peters, which is called the Holy Door. This is always walled up, except on this distinguished year; and even then no person is permitted to enter by it, but in the humblest posture. The pilgrims, and many others, prefer crawling into the church upon their knees, by this door; to walking in, the usual way, by any other. I was present at the shutting up of this Holy Door. The Pope being seated on a raised seat, or kind of throne, surrounded by Cardinals and other ecclesiastics, an anthem was sung, accompanied by all sorts of musical instruments. During the performance, his Holiness descended from the throne, with a golden trowel in his hand, placed the first brick, and applied some mortar; he then returned to his seat, and the door was instantly built up by more expert, though less hallowed, workmen; and will remain as it is now, till the beginning of the nineteenth century, when it will be again opened, by the Pope then in being, with the same solemnity that it has been now shut. Though his Holiness places but a single brick, yet it is very remarkable that this never fails to communicate its influence, in such a rapid and powerful manner, that, within about an hour, or at most an hour and a half, all the other bricks, which form the wall of the Holy Door, acquire an equal degree of sanctity with that placed by the Popes own hands. The common people and pilgrims are well acquainted with this wonderful effect. At the beginning of this Jubileeyear, when the late wall was thrown down, men, women, and children scrambled and fought for the fragments of the bricks and mortar, with the same eagerness which less enlightened mobs display, on days of public rejoicing, when handfuls of money are thrown among them. I have been often assured that those pieces of brick, besides their sanctity, have also the virtue of curing many of the most obstinate diseases: and, if newspapers were permitted at Rome, there is not the least reason to doubt, that those cures would be attested publicly by the patients, in a manner as satisfactory and convincing as are the cures performed daily by the pills, powders, drops, and balsams advertised in the London newspapers. After the shutting of the Holy Door, mass was celebrated at midnight; and the ceremony was attended by vast multitudes of people. For my own part, I suspended my curiosity till next day, which was Christmasday, when I returned again to St. Peters church, and saw the Pope perform mass on that solemn occasion. His Holiness went through all the evolutions of the ceremony with an address and flexibility of body, which are rarely to be found in those who wear the tiara; who are, generally speaking, men bowing under the load of years and infirmities. His present Holiness has hitherto suffered from neither. His features are regular, and he has a fine countenance; his person is straight, and his movements graceful. His leg and foot are remarkably well made, and always ornamented with silk stockings, and red slippers, of the most delicate construction. Notwithstanding that the papal uniforms are by no means calculated to set off the person to the greatest advantage, yet the peculiar neatness with which they are put on, and the nice adjustment of their most minute parts, sufficiently prove that his present Holiness is not insensible of the charms of his person, or unsolicitous about his external ornaments. Though verging towards the winter of life, his cheeks still glow with autumnal roses, which, at a little distance, appear as blooming as those of the spring. If he himself were less clearsighted than he seems to be, to the beauties of his face and person, he could not also be deaf to the voices of the women, who break out into exclamations, in praise of both, as often as he appears in public. On a public occasion, lately, as he was carried through a particular street, a young woman at a window exclaimed, Quanto e bello! O quanto e bello! and was immediately answered by a zealous old lady at the window opposite, who, folding her hands in each other, and raising her eyes to heaven, cried out, with a mixture of love for his person, and veneration for his sacred office, Tanto e bello, quanto e santo! When we know that such a quantity of incense is daily burnt under his sacred nostrils, we ought not to be astonished, though we should find his brain, on some occasions, a little intoxicated. Vanity is a very comfortable failing; and has such an universal power over mankind, that not only the gay blossoms of youth, but even the shrivelled bosom of age, and the contracted heart of bigotry, open, expand, and display strong marks of sensibility under its influence. After mass, the Pope gave the benediction to the people assembled in the Grand Court, before the church of St. Peters. It was a remarkably fine day; an immense multitude filled that spacious and magnificent area; the horse and foot guards were drawn up in their most showy uniform. The Pope, seated in an open, portable chair, in all the splendour which his wardrobe could give, with the tiara on his head, was carried out of a large window, which opens on a balcony in the front of St. Peters. The silk hangings and gold trappings with which the chair was embellished, concealed the men who carried it; so that to those who viewed him from the area below, his Holiness seemed to sail forward, from the window selfbalanced in the air, like a celestial being. The instant he appeared, the music struck up, the bells rung from every church, and the cannon thundered from the castle of St. Angelo in repeated peals. During the intervals, the church of St. Peters, the palace of the Vatican, and the banks of the Tiber, reechoed the acclamations of the populace. At length his Holiness arose from his seat, and an immediate and awful silence ensued. The multitude fell upon their knees, with their hands and eyes raised towards his Holiness, as to a benign Deity. After a solemn pause, he pronounced the benediction, with great fervour; elevating his outstretched arms as high as he could; then closing them together, and bringing them back to his breast with a slow motion, as if he had got hold of the blessing, and was drawing it gently from heaven. Finally, he threw his arms open, waving them for some time, as if his intention had been to scatter the benediction with impartiality among the people. No ceremony can be better calculated for striking the senses, and imposing on the understanding, than this of the Supreme Pontiff giving the blessing from the balcony of St. Peters. For my own part, if I had not, in my early youth, received impressions highly unfavourable to the chief actor in this magnificent interlude, I should have been in danger of paying him a degree of respect, very inconsistent with the religion in which I was educated. 1 The Carmen Seculare of Horace was composed on occasion of those celebrated by Augustus in the year of Rome 736. 2 To this last abridgement I am indebted for having seen the ceremonies and processions on the termination of this sacred year. LETTER XLIX. Rome. In my last, I informed you of my having been seduced almost into idolatry, by the influence of example, and the pomp which surrounded the idol. I must now confess that I have actually bowed the knee to Baal, from mere wantonness. We are told that, to draw near to that Being, who ought to be the only object of worship, with our lips, while our hearts are far from him, is a mockery. Such daring and absurd hypocrisy I shall always avoid: but to have drawn near to him, who ought not to be an object of worship, with the lips only, while the heart continued at a distance, I hope will be considered as no more than a venial transgression. In short, I trust, that it will not be looked on as a mortal sin in Protestants to have kissed the Popes toe. If it should, some of your friends are in a deplorable way, as you shall hear.It is usual for strangers to be presented to his Holiness, before they leave Rome. The D of H, Mr. K, and myself, have all been at the Vatican together, upon that important business. Your young acquaintance Jack, who, having now got a commission in the army, considers himself no longer as a boy, desired to accompany us. We went under the auspices of a certain ecclesiastic, who usually attends the English on such occasions. He very naturally concluded, that it would be most agreeable to us to have the circumstance of kissing the slipper dispensed with. Having had some conversation, therefore, with his Holiness, in his own apartment, while we remained in another room, previous to our introduction; he afterwards returned, and informed us, that the Pontiff, indulgent to the prejudices of the British nation, did not insist on that part of the ceremonial; and therefore a very low bow, on our being presented, was all that would be required of us. A bow! cried the D of H; I should not have given myself any trouble about the matter, had I suspected that all was to end in a bow. I look on kissing the toe as the only amusing circumstance of the whole; if that is to be omitted, I will not be introduced at all. For if the most ludicrous part is left out, who would wait for the rest of a farce? This was a thunderstroke to our negociator, who expected thanks, at least, for the honourable terms he had obtained; but who, on the contrary, found himself in the same disagreeable predicament with other negociators, who have met with abuse and reproach from their countrymen, on account of treaties for which they expected universal applause. The D of H knew nothing of the treaty which our introducer had just concluded; otherwise he would certainly have prevented the negociation. As I perceived, however, that our ambassador was mortified with the thoughts that all his labour should prove abortive, I said, that, although he had prevailed with his Holiness to wave that part of the ceremonial, which his Grace thought so entertaining, yet it would unquestionably be still more agreeable to him that the whole should be performed to its utmost extent: this new arrangement, therefore, needed not be an obstruction to our being presented. The countenance of our Conductor brightened up at this proposal. He immediately ushered us into the presence of the Supreme Pontiff. We all bowed to the ground; the supplest of the company had the happiness to touch the sacred slipper with their lips, and the least agile were within a few inches of that honour. As this was more than had been bargained for, his Holiness seemed agreeably surprised; raised the D with a smiling countenance, and conversed with him in an obliging manner, asking the common questions, How long he had been in Italy? Whether he found Rome agreeable? When he intended to set out for Naples?He said something of the same kind to each of the company; and, after about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, we took our leave. Next day, his Holiness sent his compliments to the D, with a present of two medals, one of gold, and the other of silver; on both of which the head of the Pontiff is very accurately engraved. The manner in which the generality of sovereign princes pass their time, is as far from being amusing or agreeable, as one can possibly imagine. Slaves to the tiresome routine of etiquette; martyrs to the oppressive fatigue of pomp; constrained to walk every leveeday around the same dull circle, to gratify the vanity of fifty or a hundred people, by whispering a something or a nothing into the ears of each; obliged to wear a smiling countenance, even when the heart is oppressed with sadness; besieged by the craving faces of those, who are more displeased at what is withheld, than grateful for the favours they have received; surrounded, as he constantly is, by adepts in the art of simulation, all professing the highest possible regard; how shall the puzzled monarch distinguish real from assumed attachment? and what a risk does he run, of placing his confidence where he ought to have directed his indignation! And, to all these inconveniencies, when we add this, that he is precluded from those delightful sensations which spring from disinterested friendship, sweet equality, and the gay, careless enjoyments of social life, we must acknowledge, that all that is brilliant in the condition of a sovereign, is not sufficient to compensate for such restraints, such dangers, and such deprivations. So far indeed are we from considering that envied condition as enviable, that great part of mankind are more apt to think it insupportable; and are surprised to find, that those unhappy men, whom fate has condemned to suffer the pains of royalty for life, are able to wait with patience for the natural period of their days. For, strange as it may appear, history does not furnish us with an instance, not even in Great Britain itself, of a king, who hanged, or drowned, or put himself to death in any other violent manner, from mere tdium, as other mortals, disgusted with life, are apt to do. I was at a loss to account for such an extraordinary fact, till I recollected that, however void of resources and activity the minds of monarchs may be, they are seldom allowed to rest in repose. The storms to which people in their lofty situation are exposed, occasion such agitations as prevent the stagnating slime of tdium from gathering on their minds. That kings do not commit suicide, therefore, affords only a very slender presumption of the happiness of their condition: although it is a strong proof, that all the hurricanes of life are not so insupportable to the human mind, as that insipid, fearless, hopeless calm, which envelopes men who are devoid of mental enjoyments, and whose senses are palled with satiety. If there is any truth in the above representation of the regal condition, would not you imagine that of all others it would be the most shunned? Would not you imagine that every human being would shrink from it, as from certain misery; and that at least every wise man would say, with the Poet, I envy none their pageantry and show, I envy none the gilding of their woe? Not only every wise man, but every foolish man, will adopt the sentiment, and act accordingly; provided his rank in life removes him from the possibility of ever attaining the objects in question. For what is situated beyond the sphere of our hopes, very seldom excites our desires; but bring the powerful magnets a little nearer, and they attract the human passions with a force which reason and philosophy cannot controul. Placed within their reach, the wise and the foolish grasp with equal eagerness at crowns and sceptres, in spite of all the thorns with which they are surrounded. Their alluring magic seems to have the power of changing the very characters and natures of men. In pursuit of them, the indolent have been excited to the most active exertions, the voluptuous have renounced their darling pleasures; and even those who have long walked in the direct road of integrity, have deviated into all the crooked paths of villany and fraud. There are passions, whose indulgence is so exceedingly flattering to the natural vanity of men, that they will gratify them, though persuaded that the gratification will be attended by disappointment and misery. The love of power and sovereignty is of this class. It has been a general belief, ever since the kingly office was established among men, that cares and anxiety were the constant attendants of royalty. Yet this general conviction never made a single person decline an opportunity of embarking on this sea of troubles. Every new adventurer flatters himself that he shall be guided by some happy star undiscovered by former navigators; and those who, after trial, have relinquished the voyageCharles, Christina, Amadeus, and otherswhen they had quitted the helm, and were safely arrived in port, are said to have languished, all the rest of their lives, for that situation which their own experience taught them was fraught with misery. Henry the Fourth of England did not arrive at the throne by the natural and direct road. Shakespear puts the following Address to Sleep, into the mouth of this monarch: O Sleep! O gentle Sleep! Natures soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushd with busy nightflies to thy slumber; Than in the perfumd chambers of the Great, Under the canopies of costly state And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody? O thou dull God! why lyst thou with the vile In loathsome beds; and leavst the kingly couch? A watchcase, or a common larum bell? Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the shipboys eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippry shrouds, Canst thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repose To the wet seaboy in an hour so rude; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a King? However eager and impatient this Prince may have formerly been to obtain the crown, you would conclude that he was quite cloyed by possession at the time he made this speech; and therefore, at first sight, you would not expect that he should afterwards display any excessive attachment to what gives him so much uneasiness. But Shakespear, who knew the secret wishes, perverse desires, and strange inconsistencies of the human heart, better than man ever knew them, makes this very Henry so tenaciously fond of that which he himself considered as the cause of all his inquietude, that he cannot bear to have the crown one moment out of his sight, but orders it to be placed on his pillow when he lies on his deathbed. Of all diadems, the Tiara, in my opinion, has the fewest charms; and nothing can afford a stronger proof of the strength and perseverance of mans passion for sovereign power, than our knowledge, that even this ecclesiastical crown is sought after with as much eagerness, perhaps with more, than any other crown in the world, although the candidates are generally in the decline of life, and all of a profession which avows the most perfect contempt of worldly grandeur. This appears the more wonderful when we reflect, that, over and above those sources of weariness and vexation, which the Pope has in common with other sovereigns, he has some which are peculiar to himself.The tiresome religious functions which he must perform, the ungenial solitude of his meals, the exclusion of the company and conversation of women, restriction from the tenderest and most delightful connexions in life, from the endearments of a parent, and the open acknowledgment of his own children; his mind oppressed with the gloomy reflection, that the man for whom he has the least regard, perhaps his greatest enemy, may be his immediate successor; to which is added, the pain of seeing his influence, both spiritual and temporal, declining every day; and the mortification of knowing, that all his ancient lofty pretensions are laughed at by one half of the Roman Catholics, all the Protestants, and totally disregarded by the rest of mankind. I know of nothing which can be put in the other scale to balance all those peculiar disadvantages which his Holiness labours under, unless it is the singular felicity which he lawfully may, and no doubt does enjoy, in the contemplation of his own infallibility. LETTER L. Rome. In their external deportment, the Italians have a grave solemnity of manner, which is sometimes thought to arise from a natural gloominess of disposition. The French, above all other nations, are apt to impute to melancholy, the sedate serious air which accompanies reflection. Though in the pulpit, on the theatre, and even in common conversation, the Italians make use of a great deal of action; yet Italian vivacity is different from French; the former proceeds from sensibility, the latter from animal spirits. The inhabitants of this country have not the brisk look, and elastic trip, which is universal in France; they move rather with a flow composed pace: their spines never having been forced into a straight line, retain the natural bend; and the people of the most finished fashion, as well as the neglected vulgar, seem to prefer the unconstrained attitude of the Antinous, and other antique statues, to the artificial graces of a French dancingmaster, or the erect strut of a German soldier. I imagine I perceive a great resemblance between many of the living countenances I see daily, and the features of the ancient busts and statues; which leads me to believe, that there are a greater number of the genuine descendants of the old Romans in Italy, than is generally imagined. I am often struck with the fine character of countenance to be seen in the streets of Rome. I never saw features more expressive of reflection, sense, and genius; in the very lowest ranks there are countenances which announce minds fit for the highest and most important situations; and we cannot help regretting, that those to whom they belong, have not received an education adequate to the natural abilities we are convinced they possess, and placed where these abilities could be brought into action. Of all the countries in Europe, Switzerland is that in which the beauties of nature appear in the greatest variety of forms, and on the most magnificent scale; in that country, therefore, the young landscape painter has the best chance of seizing the most sublime ideas: but Italy is the best school for the history painter, not only on account of its being enriched with the works of the greatest masters, and the noblest models of antique sculpture; but also on account of the fine expressive style of the Italian countenance. Here you have few or none of those fair, fat, glistening, unmeaning faces, so common in the more northern parts of Europe. I happened once to sit by a foreigner of my acquaintance at the Opera in the Haymarket, when a certain Nobleman, who at that time was a good deal talked of, entered. I whispered himThat is Lord . Not surely the famous Lord , said he. Yes, said I, the very same. It must be acknowledged then, continued he, that the noble Earl does infinite honour to those who have had the care of his education. How so? rejoined I. Because, replied the foreigner, a countenance so completely vacant, strongly indicates a deficiency of natural abilities; the respectable figure he makes in the senate, I therefore presume must be entirely owing to instruction. Strangers, on their arrival at Rome, form no high idea of the beauty of the Roman women, from the specimens they see in the fashionable circles to which they are first introduced. There are some exceptions; but in general it must be acknowledged, that the present race of women of high rank, are more distinguished by their other ornaments, than by their beauty. Among the citizens, however, and in the lower classes, you frequently meet with the most beautiful countenances. For a brilliant red and white, and all the charms of complexion, no women are equal to the English. If a hundred, or any greater number, of English women were taken at random, and compared with the same number of the wives and daughters of the citizens of Rome, I am convinced, that ninety of the English would be found handsomer than ninety of the Romans; but the probability is, that two or three in the hundred Italians, would have finer countenances than any of the English. English beauty is more remarkable in the country, than in towns; the peasantry of no country in Europe can stand a comparison, in point of looks, with those of England. That race of people have the conveniencies of life in no other country in such perfection; they are no where so well fed, so well defended from the injuries of the seasons; and no where else do they keep themselves so perfectly clean, and free from all the vilifying effects of dirt. The English country girls, taken collectively, are, unquestionably, the handsomest in the world. The female peasants of most other countries, indeed, are so hard worked, so ill fed, so much tanned by the sun, and so dirty, that it is difficult to know whether they have any beauty or not. Yet I have been informed, by some Amateurs, since I came here, that, in spite of all these disadvantages, they sometimes find, among the Italian peasantry, countenances highly interesting, and which they prefer to all the cherry cheeks of Lancashire. Beauty, doubtless, is infinitely varied; and happily for mankind, their tastes and opinions, on the subject, are equally various. Notwithstanding this variety, however, a style of face, in some measure peculiar to its own inhabitants, has been found to prevail in each different nation of Europe. This peculiar countenance is again greatly varied, and marked with every degree of discrimination between the extremes of beauty and ugliness. I will give you a sketch of the general style of the most beautiful female heads in this country, from which you may judge whether they are to your taste or not. A great profusion of dark hair, which seems to encroach upon the forehead, rendering it short and narrow; the nose generally either aquiline, or continued in a straight line from the lower part of the brow; a full and short upper lip; by the way, nothing has a worse effect on a countenance, than a large interval between the nose and mouth; the eyes are large, and of a sparkling black. The black eye certainly labours under one disadvantage, which is, that, from the iris and pupil being of the same colour, the contraction and dilatation of the latter is not seen, by which the eye is abridged of half its powers. Yet the Italian eye is wonderfully expressive; some people think it says too much. The complexion, for the most part, is of a clear brown, sometimes fair, but very seldom florid, or of that bright fairness which is common in England and Saxony. It must be owned, that those features which have a fine expression of sentiment and meaning in youth, are more apt, than less expressive faces, to become soon strong and masculine. In England and Germany, the women, a little advanced in life, retain the appearance of youth longer than in Italy. With countenances so favourable for the pencil, you will naturally imagine, that portrait painting is in the highest perfection here. The reverse, however, of this is true; that branch of the art is in the lowest estimation all over Italy. In palaces, the best furnished with pictures, you seldom see a portrait of the proprietor, or any of his family. A quarter length of the reigning Pope is sometimes the only portrait, of a living person, to be seen in the whole palace. Several of the Roman Princes affect to have a room of state, or audience chamber, in which is a raised seat like a throne, with a canopy over it. In those rooms the effigies of the Pontiffs are hung; they are the work of very inferior artists, and seldom cost above three or four sequins. As soon as his Holiness departs this life, the portrait disappears, and the face of his successor is in due time hung up in its stead. This, you will say, is treating their old sovereign a little unkindly, and paying no very expensive compliment to the new; it is not so conomical, however, as what was practised by a certain person. I shall not inform you whether he was a Frenchman or an Englishman, but he certainly was a courtier, and professed the highest possible regard for all living monarchs; but considered them as no better than any other piece of clay when dead. He had a full length picture of his own Sovereign in the principal room of his house; on his majestys death, to save himself the expence of a fresh body, and a new suit of ermine, he employed a painter to brush out the face and periwig, and clap the new Kings head on his grandfathers shoulders; which, he declared, were in the most perfect preservation, and fully able to wear out three or four such heads as painters usually give in these degenerate days. The Italians, in general, very seldom take the trouble of sitting for their pictures. They consider a portrait as a piece of painting, which engages the admiration of nobody but the person it represents, or the painter who drew it. Those who are in circumstances to pay the best artists, generally employ them in some subject more universally interesting, than the representation of human countenances staring out of a piece of canvas. Pompeio Battoni is the best Italian painter now at Rome. His taste and genius led him to history painting, and his reputation was originally acquired in that line; but by far the greater part of his fortune, whatever that may be, has flowed through a different channel. His chief employment, for many years past, has been painting the portraits of the young English, and other strangers of fortune, who visit Rome. There are artists in England, superior in this, and every other branch of painting, to Battoni. They, like him, are seduced from the free walks of genius, and chained, by interest, to the servile drudgery of copying faces. Beauty is worthy of the most delicate pencil; but, gracious heaven! why should every periwigpated fellow, without countenance or character, insist on seeing his chubby cheeks on canvas? Could you not give a little expression to that countenance? said a gentleman to an eminent English painter, who showed him a portrait which he had just finished. I made that attempt already, replied the painter; but what the picture gained in expression, it lost in likeness; and by the time there was a little common sense in the countenance, nobody knew for whom it was intended. I was obliged, therefore, to make an entire new picture, with the face perfectly like, and perfectly meaningless, as you see it. Let the colours for ever remain, which record the last fainting efforts of Chatham; the expiring triumph of Wolf; or the indecision of Garrick, equally allured by the two contending Muses! But let them perish and fly from the canvas, which blind selflove spreads for insipidity and ugliness! Why should posterity know, that the first genius of the age, and those whose pencils were formed to speak to the heart, and delineate beauteous Nature, were chiefly employed in copying faces? and many of them, faces that imitate humanity so abominably, that, to use Hamlets expression, they seem not the genuine work of Nature, but of Natures journeymen. To this ridiculous selflove, equally prevalent among the great vulgar and small, some of the best painters in France, Germany, and Great Britain, are obliged for their subsistence. This creates a suspicion, that a taste for the real beauties of painting, is not quite so universal, as a sensibility to their own personal beauties, among the individuals of these countries. And nothing can be a stronger proof of the important light in which men appear in their own eyes, and their small importance in those of others, than the different treatment which the generality of portraits receive, during the life, and after the death, of their constituents. During the first of these periods, they inhabit the finest apartments of the houses to which they belong; they are flattered by the guests, and always viewed with an eye of complacency by the landlord. But, after the commencement of the second, they begin to be neglected; in a short time are ignominiously thrust up to the garret; and, to fill up the measure of their affliction, they finally are thrown out of doors, in the most barbarous manner, without distinction of rank, age, or sex. Those of former times are scattered, like Jews, with their long beards and brown complexions, all over the face of the earth; and, even of the present century, Barons of the most ancient families, armed capapee, are to be purchased for two or three ducats, in most of the towns of Germany. French Marquises, in full suits of embroidered velvet, may be had at Paris still cheaper; and many worshipful citizens of London are to be seen dangling on the walls of an auctionroom, when they are scarce cold in their graves. LETTER LI. Rome. There are no theatrical entertainments permitted in this city, except during the Carnival; but they are then attended with a degree of ardour unknown in capitals whose inhabitants are under no such restraint. Every kind of amusement, indeed, in this gay season, is followed with the greatest eagerness. The natural gravity of the Roman citizens is changed into a mirthful vivacity; and the serious, sombre city of Rome exceeds Paris itself in sprightliness and gaiety. This spirit seems gradually to augment, from its commencement; and is at its height in the last week of the six which comprehend the Carnival. The citizens then appear in the streets, masked, in the characters of Harlequins, Pantaloons, Punchinellos, and all the fantastic variety of a masquerade. This humour spreads to men, women, and children; descends to the lowest ranks, and becomes universal. Even those who put on no mask, and have no desire to remain unknown, reject their usual clothes, and assume some whimsical dress. The coachmen, who are placed in a more conspicuous point of view than others of the same rank in life, and who are perfectly known by the carriages they drive, generally affect some ridiculous disguise: Many of them chuse a womans dress, and have their faces painted, and adorned with patches. However dull these fellows may be, when in breeches, they are, in petticoats, considered as the pleasantest men in the world; and excite much laughter in every street in which they appear. I observed to an Italian of my acquaintance, that, considering the staleness of the joke, I was surprised at the mirth it seemed to raise. When a whole city, answered he, are resolved to be merry for a week together, it is exceedingly convenient to have a few established jokes ready made; the young laugh at the novelty, and the old from prescription. This metamorphosis of the coachmen is certainly not the most refined kind of wit; however, it is more harmless than the burning of heretics, which formerly was a great source of amusement to our populace. The street, called the Corso, is the great scene of these masquerades. It is crowded every night with people of all conditions: Those of rank come in coaches, or in open carriages, made on purpose. A kind of civil war is carried on by the company, as they pass each other. The greatest mark of attention you can shew your friends and acquaintance, is, to throw a handful of little white balls, resembling sugarplums, full in their faces; and, if they are not deficient in politeness, they will instantly return you the compliment. All who wish to make a figure in the Corso, come well supplied in this kind of ammunition. Sometimes two or three open carriages, on a side, with five or six persons of both sexes in each, draw up opposite to each other, and fight a pitched battle. On these occasions, the combatants are provided with whole bags full of the small shot above mentioned, which they throw at each other, with much apparent fury, till their ammunition is exhausted, and the field of battle is as white as snow. The peculiar dresses of every nation of the globe, and of every profession, besides all the fantastic characters usual at masquerades, are to be seen on the Corso. Those of Harlequin and Pantaloon are in great vogue among the men. The citizens wives and daughters generally affect the pomp of women of quality; while their brothers, or other relations, appear as trainbearers and attendants. In general, they seem to delight in characters the most remote from their own. Young people assume the long beard, tottering step, and other concomitants of old age; the aged chuse the bib and rattle of childhood; and the women of quality, and women of the town, appear in the characters of country maidens, nuns, and vestal virgins. All endeavour to support the assumed characters, to the best of their ability; but none, in my opinion, succeed so well as those who represent children. Towards the dusk of the evening, the horserace takes place. As soon as this is announced, the coaches, cabriolets, triumphal cars, and carriages of every kind, are drawn up, and line the street; leaving a space in the middle for the racers to pass. These are five or six horses, trained on purpose for this diversion; they are drawn up abreast in the Piazza del Popolo, exactly where the Corso begins. Certain balls, with little sharp spikes, are hung along their sides, which serve to spur them on. As soon as they begin to run, those animals, by their impatience to be gone, shew that they understand what is required of them, and that they take as much pleasure as the spectators in the sport. A broad piece of canvas, spread across the entrance of the street, prevents them from starting too soon: the dropping that canvas is the signal for the race to begin. The horses fly off together, and, without riders, exert themselves to the utmost; impelled by emulation, the shouts of the populace, and the spurs above mentioned. They run the whole length of the Corso; and the proprietor of the victor is rewarded by a certain quantity of fine scarlet or purple cloth, which is always furnished by the Jews. This diversion, such as it is, seems highly entertaining to the Roman populace; though it appears a mighty foolish business in the eyes of Englishmen. An acquaintance of mine, who had entirely ruined a fine fortune at Newmarket, told me, that Italian horseraces were the most absurd things in the world; that there were not a hundred guineas lost or won during a whole Carnival; and nothing could be a greater proof of the folly of the people, than their spending their time in such a silly manner. Masking and horseraces are confined to the last eight days; but there are theatrical entertainments, of various kinds, during the whole six weeks of the Carnival. The Serious Opera is most frequented by people of fashion, who generally take boxes for the whole season. The opera, with which this theatre opened, was received with the highest applause, though the music only was new. The Italians do not think it always necessary to compose new words for what is called a new opera; they often satisfy themselves with new music to the affecting dramas of Metastasio. The audience here seem to lend a more profound and continued attention to the music, than at Venice. This is probably owing to the entertainment being a greater rarity in the one city than in the other; for I could perceive that the people of fashion, who came every night, began, after the opera had been repeated several nights, to abate in their attention, to receive visitors in their boxes, and to listen only when some favourite airs were singing: whereas the audience in the pit uniformly preserve the most perfect silence, which is only interrupted by gentle murmurs of pleasure from a few individuals, or an universal burst of applause from the whole assembly. I never saw such genuine marks of satisfaction displayed by any assembly, on any occasion whatever. The sensibility of some of the audience gave me an idea of the power of sounds, which the dulness of my own auditory nerves could never have conveyed to my mind. At certain airs, silent enjoyment was expressed in every countenance; at others, the hands were clasped together, the eyes half shut, and the breath drawn in, with a prolonged sigh, as if the soul was expiring in a torrent of delight. One young woman, in the pit, called out, O Dio, dove sono! che piacer via caccia lalma? On the first night of the opera, after one of these favourite airs, an universal shout of applause took place, intermingled with demands that the composer of the music should appear. Il Maestro! il Maestro! resounded from every corner of the house. He was present, and led the band of music; he was obliged to stand upon the bench, where he continued, bowing to the spectators, till they were tired of applauding him. One person, in the middle of the pit, whom I had remarked displaying great signs of satisfaction from the beginning of the performance, cried out, He deserves to be made chief musician to the Virgin, and to lead a choir of angels! This expression would be thought strong, in any country; but it has peculiar energy here, where it is a popular opinion, that the Virgin Mary is very fond, and an excellent judge, of music. I received this information on Christmas morning, when I was looking at two poor Calabrian pipers doing their utmost to please her, and the Infant in her arms. They played for a full hour to one of her images which stands at the corner of a street. All the other statues of the Virgin, which are placed in the streets, are serenaded in the same manner every Christmas morning. On my enquiring into the meaning of that ceremony, I was told the abovementioned circumstance of her character, which, though you may have always thought highly probable, perhaps you never before knew for certain. My informer was a pilgrim, who stood listening with great devotion to the pipers. He told me, at the same time, that the Virgins taste was too refined to have much satisfaction in the performance of those poor Calabrians, which was chiefly intended for the Infant; and he desired me to remark, that the tunes were plain, simple, and such as might naturally be supposed agreeable to the ear of a child of his time of life. Though the serious opera is in highest estimation, and more regularly attended by people of the first fashion; yet the opera buffas, or burlettas, are not entirely neglected, even by them, and are crowded, every night, by the middle and lower classes. Some admired singers have performed there during the Carnival, and the musical composers have rendered them highly pleasing to the general taste. The serious and burlesque operas prevail infinitely over the other theatrical entertainments at Rome, in spite of the united efforts of Harlequin, Pantaloon, and Punchinello. The prohibition of female performers renders the amusement of the Roman theatre very insipid, in the opinion of some unrefined Englishmen of your acquaintance who are here. In my own poor opinion, the natural sweetness of the female voice is ill supplied by the artificial trills of wretched castratos; and the aukward agility of robust sinewy fellows dressed in womens clothes, is a most deplorable substitution for the graceful movements of elegant female dancers. Is not the horrid practice which is encouraged by this manner of supplying the place of female singers, a greater outrage on religion and morality, than can be produced by the evils which their prohibition is intended to prevent? Is it possible to believe, that purity of sentiment will be preserved by producing eunuchs on the stage? I should fear it would have a different effect. At the funeral of Junia, the wife of Cassius, and sister of Brutus, the statues of all the great persons connected with her family by blood or alliance, were carried in procession, except those of her brother and husband. This deficiency struck the people more than any part of the procession, and brought the two illustrious Romans into their minds with more force than if their statues had been carried with the others.Prfulgebant Cassius atque Brutus, says Tacitus, eo ipso, quod effigies eorum non visebantur. LETTER LII. Naples. I take the first opportunity of informing you of our arrival in this city. Some of the principal objects which occurred on the road, with the sentiments they suggested to my mind, shall form the subject of this letter. It is almost impossible to go out of the walls of Rome, without being impressed with melancholic ideas. Having left that city by St. John de Laterans gate, we soon entered a spacious plain, and drove for several miles in sight of sepulchral monuments and the ruins of ancient aqueducts. Sixtus the Fifth repaired one of them, to bring water into that part of Rome where Dioclesians baths formerly stood: this water is now called aqua felice, from Felix, the name of that pontiff, while he was only a Cordelier. Having changed horses at the Torre de Mezzo Via, so called from an old tower near the posthouse, we proceeded through a silent, deserted, unwholesome country. We scarce met a passenger between Rome and Marino, a little town about twelve miles from the former, which has its name from Caius Marius, who had a villa there; it now belongs to the Colonna family. While fresh horses were harnessing, we visited two churches, to see two pictures which we had heard commended; the subject of one is as disagreeable, as that of the other is difficult to execute. The connoisseur who directed us to these pieces, told me, that the first, the slaying of St. Bartholomew, by Guercino, is in a great style, finely coloured, and the muscles convulsed with pain in the sweetest manner imaginable; he could have gazed at it for ever. As for the other, added he which represents the Trinity, it is natural, well grouped, and easily understood; and that is all that can be said for it. From Marino, the road runs for several miles over craggy mountains. In ascending Mons Albanus, we were charmed with a fine view of the country towards the sea; Ostia, Antium, the lake Albano, and the fields adjacent. The form and component parts of this mountain plainly shew, that it has formerly been a volcano. The lake of Nemi, which we left to the right, seems, like that of Albano, to have been formed in the cavity of a crater. We came next to Veletri, an inconsiderable town, situated on a hill. There is one palace here, with spacious gardens, which, when kept in repair, may have been magnificent. The staircase, they assured us, is still worthy of admiration. The inhabitants of Veletri assert, that Augustus was born there. Suetonius says, he was born at Rome. It is certainly of no importance where he was born. Perhaps it would have been better for Rome, and for the world in general, that he never had been born at all. The Veletrians are so fond of emperors, that they claim a connexion even with Tiberius and Caligula, who had villas in their neighbourhood. The ruins of Othos palace are still to be seen about a mile from this city, at a place called Colle Ottone. Of those four emperors, the lastmentioned was by much the best worth the claiming as a countryman. As for Caligula, he was a mischievous madman. Tiberius seems to have been born with wicked dispositions, which he improved by art. Augustus was naturally wicked, and artificially virtuous; and Otho seems to have been exactly the reverse. Though educated in the most vicious of courts, and the favourite and companion of Nero, he still preserved, in some degree, the original excellence of his character; and, at his death, displayed a magnanimity of sentiment, and nobleness of conduct, of which the highly flattered Augustus was never capable. Alii diutius imperium tenuerint, says Tacitus; nemo tam fortiter reliquerit. Convinced that, if he continued the contest with Vitellius, all the horrors of a civil war would be prolonged, he determined to sacrifice his life to the quiet of his country, and to the safety of his friends3. To involve you in fresh calamities, said this generous prince to the officers who offered still to support his cause, is purchasing life at a price beyond what, in my opinion, is its value. Shall Roman armies be led against each other, and the Roman youth be excited to mutual slaughter, on my account? No! for your safety, and to prevent such evils, I die contented. Let me be no impediment to your treating with the enemy; nor do you any longer oppose my fixed resolution. I complain not of my fate, nor do I accuse any body. To arraign the conduct of gods or men, is natural to those only who wish to live. Though they are not to be compared in other respects, yet the death of Otho may vie with that of Cato; and is one of the strongest instances to be found in history, that a life of effeminacy and voluptuousness does not always eradicate the seeds of virtue and benevolence. In the middle of the square of Veletri, is a bronze statue of Urban the Eighth. I think they told us it is the workmanship of Bernini. Descending from that town by a rough road, bordered by vineyards and fruittrees, we traversed an unsalubrious plain to Sermonetta; between which, and the posthouse, called Casa Nuova, a little to the left of the highway, are some vaults and ruins, not greatly worthy of the notice of the mere antiquarian. Yet passengers of a singular cast of mind, who feel themselves as much interested in the transactions recorded in the New Testament, as men of taste are in paintings or heathen antiquities, stop a little here to contemplate the Tres Tabern, which are said to be the three Taverns mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, where the Christian brethren from Rome came to meet St. Paul, when he was on his journey to that city. I have seen, however, some Christian travellers, who, without being connoisseurs, were of opinion, that old ruined houses derived little value from the circumstance above mentioned, and who preferred a good modern inn to all the antiquities, sacred or profane, that they met with on their grand tours. Without presuming to blame any set of men for their particular taste, I may venture to say, that a traveller, who loves always to see a wellpeopled and wellcultivated country, who insists on good eating every day, and a neat comfortable bed every night, would judge very wisely in never travelling out of England.I am certain he ought not to travel between Rome and Naples; for on this road, especially the part which runs through the Ecclesiastical State, the travellers chief entertainment must arise from a less substantial foundation; from the ideas formed in the mind, at sight of places celebrated by favourite authors; from a recollection of the important scenes which have been acted there; and even from the thought of treading the same ground, and viewing the same objects, with certain persons who lived there fifteen hundred or two thousand years ago. Strangers, therefore, who come under the first description, whose senses are far more powerful than their fancy, when they are so ill advised as to come so far from home, generally make this journey in very ill humour, fretting at Italian beds, fuming against Italian cooks, and execrating every poor little Italian flea that they meet with on the road. But he who can put up with indifferent fare cheerfully, whose serenity of temper remains unshaken by the assaults of a flea, and who can draw amusement from the stores of memory and imagination, will find the powers of both wonderfully excited during this journey. Sacred history unites with profane, truth conspires with fable, to afford him entertainment, and render every object interesting. Proxima Circe raduntur littora terr. Driving along this road, you have a fine view of Monte Circello, and the an bay, Where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the Day; Goddess and queen, to whom the powers belong Of dreadful magic and commanding song. This abode of the enchantress Circe has been generally described as an island; whereas it is, in reality, a promontory, united to the continent by a neck of land. The adventures of Ulysses and his companions at this place, with all the extraordinary things which Homer has recorded of Circe, must serve to amuse you between Casa Nuova and Piperno; the road affords no other. At Piperno, anciently Privernum, you quit Circe, for Virgils Camilla, a lady of a very different character, whose native city this is4. Near to Piperno, an abbey, called Fossa Nuova, is situated on the ruins of the little town of Forum Appii, the same of which mention is made in the Acts of the Apostles, and by Horace, in his account of his journey to Brundusium. Inde Forum Appi Differtum nautis, cauponibus atque malignis. The abbey of Fossa Nuova is said to have made a very valuable acquisition of late, no less than the head of St. Thomas Aquinas. We are told, in the memoirs of that Saint, that he was taken ill as he passed this way, and was carried to this convent, where he died. His body was afterward required by the king of France, and ordered to be carried to Thoulouse; but before the remains of this holy person were removed from the convent, one of the monks, unwilling to allow the whole of such a precious deposite to be carried away, determined to retain the most valuable part, and actually cut off the saints head, substituting another in its stead, which was carried to Thoulouse, very nicely stitched to the body of the saint. The monk, who was guilty of this pious fraud, hid the true head in the wall of the convent, and died without revealing the secret to any mortal. From that time the supposititious head remained unsuspected at Thoulouse; but as impostures are generally detected sooner or later, the venerable brethren of Fossa Nuova (this happened much about the time that the Cocklane ghost made such a noise in London) were disturbed with strange knockings and scratchings at a particular part of the wall.On this noise being frequently repeated, without any visible agent, and the people of the neighbourhood having been often assembled to hear it, the monks at length agreed to pull down part of the wall at the place where the scratching and knocking were always heard. This was no sooner done, than the true head of St. Thomas Aquinas was found as fresh as the day it was cut off;on the vessel in which it was contained was the following inscription: Caput divi Thom Aquinatis. And near it a paper, containing a faithful narrative of the whole transaction, signed by the monk who did the deed. Some people, not making a proper allowance for the difference between a saints head and their own, say, this cannot possibly be the head of Thomas Aquinas, which must have putrified some centuries ago; they say, the paper is written in a character by much too modern; they say, the monks contrived the whole affair, to give an importance to their convent; they saybut what signifies what they say? In this age of incredulity, some people will say any thing. We next came to Terracina, and here I must finish my letter; in my next I shall carry you to Naples. 3 Hunc animum, hanc virtutem vestram, ultra periculis objicere, nimis grande vit me pretium puto. An ego tantum Roman pubis, tot egregios exercitus, sterni rursus et republic eripi patiar? Este superstites, nec diu moremur; ego incolumitatem vestram, vos constantiam meam. De nemine queror, nam incusare deos vel homines, ejus est, qui vivere velit. TACIT. Hist. lib. ii. 4 Hos super advenit Volsc de gente Camilla, Agmen agens equitum et florentes re catervas, Bellatrix: Non illa colo calathisve Minerv Fmineas assueta manus; sed prlia virgo Dura pati, cursuque pedum prvertere ventos. NEID. lib. vii. LETTER LIII. Naples. Terracina, formerly called Anxur, was the capital of the warlike Volsci5. The principal church was originally a temple of Jupiter, who was supposed to have a partiality for this town, and the country around it. Virgil calls him Jupiter Anxurus. Enumerating the troops who came to support the cause of Turnus, he mentions those who plough the Rutulian hills: Circeumque jugum; queis Jupiter Anxurus arvis Prsidet, et viridi gaudens Feronia luco: Qua satur jacet atra palus, c. Near this place we fell in again with the Appian Way, and beheld, with astonishment, the depth of rock that has here been cut, to render it more convenient for passengers. This famous road is a paved causeway, begun in the year of Rome 441, by Appius Claudius Ccus the Censor, and carried all the way from Rome to Capua. It would be superfluous to insist on the substantial manner in which it has been originally made, since it still remains in many places. Though travellers are now obliged to make a circuit by Casa Nuova and Piperno, the Via Appia was originally made in a straight line through the Palude Pontine, or Palus Pomptina, as that vast marsh was anciently called: it is the Ater Palus above mentioned, in the lines quoted from Virgil. That part of the Appian road is now quite impassable, from the augmentation of this noxious marsh, whose exhalations are disagreeable to passengers, and near which it is dangerous to sleep a single night. Keysler and some others say, that Appius made this road at his own expence. I do not know on what authority they make this assertion; but, whatever their authority may be, the thing is incredible. Could a Roman citizen, at a period when the inhabitants of Rome were not rich, bear an expence which we are surprised that even the State itself could support? Though this famous road has received its name from Appius, I can hardly imagine it was completed by him. The distance from Rome to Capua is above one hundred and thirty miles; a prodigious length for such a road as this to have been made, during the short course of one Censorship; for a man could be Censor only once in his life. This was an office of very great dignity; no person could enjoy it till he had previously been Consul. It was originally held for five years; but, a hundred years before the time of Appius, the term was abridged to eighteen months. He, however, who, as Livy tells us, possessed all the pride and obstinacy of his family, refused to quit the Censorship at the end of that period; and, in spite of all the efforts of the Tribunes, continued three years and a half beyond the term to which the office had been restricted by the milian Law. But even five years is a very short time for so great a work; yet this was not the only work he carried on during his Censorship. Viam munivit, says the Historian, et aquam in urbem duxit. The Appian road was carried on, afterwards, from Capua to Brundusium, and was probably completed so far, in the time of Horace; as appears by this verse, in one of his Epistles addressed to Lollius: Brundusium Numici melius via ducat, an Appi. Terracina is the last town of the Ecclesiastical, and Fundi the first of the Neapolitan, dominions. This last town stands on a plain, sheltered by hills, which is seldom the case with Italian towns: it probably derives its name from its situation. There is nothing very attractive in this place, now, more than in Horaces time; so we left it as willingly as he did: Fundos Aufidio Lusco Prtore libenter Linquimus. Continuing our route, partly on the Appian way, we came to Mola di Gaeta, a town built on the ruins of the ancient Formi. Horace compliments lius Lamia, on his being descended from the first founder of this city: Auctore ab illo ducis originem, Qui Formiarum mnia dicitur, Princeps. The same Poet puts the wine, made from the grapes of the Formian hills, on a footing with the Falernian: mea nec Falern Temperant vites, neque Formiani Pocula colles. Cicero had a villa near this place; and it was on this coast where that great orator was murdered in his litter, as he was endeavouring to make his escape to Greece. The fortress of Gaeta is built on a promontory, about three miles from Mola; but travellers, who have the curiosity to go to the former, generally cross the gulph between the two; and immediately, as the most remarkable thing in the place, they are shewn a great cleft in a rock, and informed that it was miraculously split in this manner at the death of our Saviour. To put this beyond doubt, they shew, at the same time, something like the impression of a mans hand on the rock, of which the following account is given.A certain person having been told on what occasion the rent took place, struck the palm of his hand on the marble, declaring he could no more believe their story, than that his hand would leave its stamp on the rock; on which, to the terror and confusion of this infidel, the stone yielded like wax, and the impression remains till this day. Nothing is so injurious to the cause of truth, as attempts to support it by fiction. Many evidences of the justness of this observation occur in the course of a tour through Italy. That mountains were rent at the death of our Saviour, we know from the New Testament; but, as none of them are there particularized, it is presumptuous in others to imagine they can point out what the Evangelists have thought proper to conceal. This rock, however, is much resorted to by pilgrims; and the Tartanes, and other vessels, often touch there, that the seamen may be provided with little pieces of marble, which they earnestly request may be taken as near the fissure as possible. These they wear constantly in their pockets, in case of shipwreck, from a persuasion, that they are a more certain preservative from drowning, than a cork jacket. Some of these poor people have the misfortune to be drowned, notwithstanding; but the sacred marble loses none of its reputation on that account. Such accidents are always imputed to the weight of the unfortunate persons sins, which have sunk him to the bottom, in spite of all the efforts of the marble to keep him above water; and it is allowed on all hands, that a man so oppressed with iniquity, as to be drowned with a piece of this marble in his pocket, would have sunk much sooner, if, instead of that, he had had nothing to keep him up but a cork jacket. Strangers are next led to the Castle, and are shewn, with some other curiosities, the skeleton of the famous Bourbon, Constable of France, who was killed in the service of the emperor Charles the Fifth, as he scaled the walls of Rome. It is remarkable that France, a nation which values itself so much on an affectionate attachment to its princes, and places loyalty at the head of the virtues, should have produced, in the course of the two last centuries, so many illustrious rebels: Bourbon, Coligni, Guise, Turenne, and the Conds; all of them were, at some period of their lives, in arms against their sovereign. That it is the duty of subjects to preserve their allegiance, however unjustly and tyrannically their prince may conduct himself, is one of the most debasing and absurd doctrines that ever was obtruded on the understanding of mankind. When Francis forgot the services which the gallant Bourbon had rendered him at Mirignan; when, by repeated acts of oppression, he forgot the duty of a king; Bourbon spurned at his allegiance, as a subject. The Spanish nobleman, who declared that he would pull down his house, if Bourbon should be allowed to lodge in it, either never had heard of the injurious treatment which that gallant soldier had received, or he betrayed the sentiments of a slave, and meant to insinuate his own implicit loyalty to the Emperor. Mankind in general have a partiality for princes. The senses are imposed on by the splendour which surrounds them; and the respect due to the office of a king, is naturally converted into an affection for his person: there must therefore be something highly unpopular in the character of the monarch, and highly oppressive in the measures of government, before people can be excited to rebellion. Subjects seldom rise through a desire of attacking, but rather from an impatience of suffering. Where men are under the yoke of feudal lords, who can force them to fight in any cause, it may be otherwise; but when general discontent pervades a free people, and when, in consequence of this, they take arms against their prince, they must have justice on their side. The highest compliment which subjects can pay, and the best service they can render, to a good prince, is, to behave in such a manner, as to convince him that they would rebel against a bad one. From Mola we were conducted by the Appian way, over the fertile fields washed by the silent Liris: Rura qu Liris quieta Mordet aqua, taciturnus amnis. This river bounded Latium. On its banks are still seen some ruins of the ancient Minturn. After Manlius Torquatus, in what some will call a phrenzy of virtue, had offered up his son as a sacrifice to military discipline; and his colleague Decius, immediately after, devoted himself in a battle against the Latins; the broken army of that people assembled at Minturn, and were a second time defeated by Manlius, and their lands divided by the senate among the citizens of Rome. The first battle was fought near Mount Vesuvius, and the second between Sinuessa and Minturn. In the morasses of Minturn, Caius Marius, in the seventieth year of his age, was taken, and brought a prisoner to that city, whose magistrates ordered an assassin to put him to death, whom the fierce veteran disarmed with a look. What mortal, says Juvenal, would have been thought more fortunate than Marius, had he breathed out his aspiring soul, surrounded by the captives he had made, his victorious troops, and all the pomp of war, as he descended from his Teutonic chariot, after his triumph over the Cimbri. Quid ilio cive tulisset Natura in terris, quid Roma beatius unquam? Si circumducto captivorum agmine, et omni Bellorum pomp, animam exhalsset opimam, Cum de Teutonico vellet descendere curru. Several writers, in their remarks on Italy, observe, that it was on the banks of the Liris that Pyrrhus gained his dearbought victory over the Romans. They have fallen into this mistake, by confounding the Liris with the Siris, a river in Magna Grcia, near Heraclea; in the neighbourhood of which Pyrrhus defeated the Romans by the means of his elephants. Leaving Garilagno, which is the modern name of the Liris, we pass the rising ground where the ancient Sinuessa was situated; the city where Horace met his friends Plotius, Varius, and Virgil. The friendly glow with which this admirable painter has adorned their characters, conveys an amiable idea of his own. Anim, quales neque candidiores Terra tulit; neque queis me sit devinctior alter. O, qui complexus et gaudia quanta fuerunt! Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico. Do you not share in the happiness of such a company? And are you not rejoiced that they happened to meet near the Ager Falernus, where they could have the best Massic and Falernian wines? New Capua, through which the road from Rome to Naples lies, is a small town of no importance. The ancient city of that name was situated two miles distant from the new. The ruins of the amphitheatre, which are still to be seen, give some idea of the ancient grandeur of that city. Before the amphitheatre of Vespasian was built, there was none in Rome of equal size with this. Old Capua is said, at one period, to have vied in magnificence with Rome and Carthage: Altera dicta olim Carthago, atque altera Roma, Nunc prostrata jacet, proprioque sepulta sepulchro. The army of Hannibal is said to have been conquered by the luxuries of this place; but the judicious Montesquieu observes, that the Carthaginian army, enriched by so many victories, would have found a Capua wherever they had gone. Whether Capua brought on the ruin of Hannibal or not, there can be no doubt that Hannibal occasioned the ruin of Capua. Having broken their connection with Rome, and formed an alliance with her enemy, the Capuans were, in the course of the war, besieged by the Consuls Fulvius and Appius. Hannibal exerted all his vast abilities for the relief of his new friends; but was not able to bring the Roman army to a battle, or to raise the siege. When every other expedient had failed, he marched directly to Rome, in the hopes of drawing the Roman army after him to defend the capital. A number of alarming events conspired, at this time, to depress the spirit of the Roman Senate. The Proconsul Sempronius Gracchus, who commanded an army in Lucania, had fallen into an ambuscade, and was massacred. The two gallant brothers, the Scipios, who were their generals in Spain, had been defeated and killed; and Hannibal was at their gates. How did the Senate behave at this crisis? Did they spend their time in idle harangues and mutual accusations? Did they throw out reflections against those senators who were against entering into a treaty with the Carthaginians till their army should be withdrawn from Italy? Did they recall their army from Capua? Did they shew any mark of despondence? In this slate of affairs, the Roman Senate sent orders to Appius to continue the siege of Capua; they ordered a reinforcement to their army in Spain; the troops for that service marching out at one gate of Rome, while Hannibal threatened to enter by storm at another. How could such a people fail to become the masters of the world! The country between Capua and Naples displays a varied scene of lavish fertility, and with great propriety might be named Campania Felix, if the richest and most generous soil, with the mildest and most agreeable climate, were sufficient to render the inhabitants of a country happy. 5 Anxur fuit qu nunc Terracin sunt; urbs prona in paludes. TIT. LIV. lib. iv. LETTER LIV. Naples. The day after our arrival at this place, we waited on Sir W H, his Majestys minister at this court. He had gone early that morning on a hunting party with the King; but the Portuguese ambassador, at Ly Hs desire, undertook to accompany the D on the usual round of visits; Sir W was not expected to return for several days, and the laws of etiquette do not allow that important tour to be delayed so long. As we have been continually driving about ever since our arrival, I am already pretty well acquainted with this town, and the environs. Naples was founded by the Greeks. The charming situation they have chosen, is one proof among thousands, of the fine taste of that ingenious people. The bay is about thirty miles in circumference, and twelve in diameter; it has been named Crater, from its supposed resemblance to a bowl. This bowl is ornamented with the most beautiful foliage, with vines; with olive, mulberry, and orange trees; with hills, dales, towns, villas, and villages. At the bottom of the bay of Naples, the town is built in the form of a vast amphitheatre, sloping from the hills towards the sea. If, from the town, you turn your eyes to the east, you see the rich plains leading to mount Vesuvius, and Portici. If you look to the west, you have the Grotto of Pausilippo, the mountain on which Virgils tomb is placed, and the fields leading to Puzzoli and the coast of Baia. On the north, are the fertile hills, gradually rising from the shore to the Campagna Felice. On the South, is the bay, confined by the two promontories of Misenum and Minerva, the view being terminated by the islands Procida, Ischia, and Caprea; and as you ascend to the castle of St. Elmo, you have all these objects under your eye at once, with the addition of a great part of the Campagna. Independent of its happy situation, Naples is a very beautiful city. The style of architecture, it must be confessed, is inferior to what prevails at Rome; but though Naples cannot vie with that city in the number of palaces, or in the grandeur and magnificence of the churches, the private houses in general are better built, and are more uniformly convenient; the streets are broader and better paved. No street in Rome equals in beauty the Strada di Toledo at Naples; and still less can any of them be compared with those beautiful streets which are open to the bay. This is the native country of the Zephyrs; here the excessive heat of the Sun is often tempered with sea breezes, and with gales, wafting the perfumes of the Campagna Felice. The houses, in general, are five or six stories in height, and flat at the top; on which are placed, numbers of flower vases or fruit trees, in boxes of earth, producing a very gay and agreeable effect. The fortress of St. Elmo is built on a mountain of the same name. The garrison stationed here, have the entire command of the town, and could lay it in ashes at pleasure. A little lower, on the same mountain, is a convent of Carthusians. The situation of this convent is as advantageous and beautiful as can be imagined; and much expence has been lavished to render the building, the apartments, and the gardens, equal to the situation. To bestow great sums of money in adorning the retreat of men who have abandoned the world for the express purpose of passing the remainder of their lives in selfdenial and mortification, seems to be very ill judged; and might, on some occasions, counteract the design of their retreat. I expressed this sentiment to a Neapolitan lady at Sir W Hs assembly, the evening after I had visited this convent. She said, that the elegant apartments, the gardens, and all the expensive ornaments I had particularised, could not much impede a system of selfdenial; for they soon became insipid to those who had them constantly before their eyes, and proved no compensation for the want of other comforts. In that case, said I, the whole expence might have been saved, or bestowed in procuring comforts to others who have made no vows of mortification. Tolga iddio! cried the lady, forgetting her former argument, for none have so good a title to every comfortable and pleasant thing in this world, as those who have renounced it, and placed their affections entirely on the next; instead of depriving these sanctified Carthusians of what they already possess, it would be more meritorious to give them what they have not. Give them then, said I, what will afford some satisfaction, instead of the luxuries of sculpture, and paintings and architecture, which, as you say, become so soon insipid; let them have enjoyments of a different kind. Why should their diet be confined to fish and vegetables? Let them enjoy the pleasures of the table without any limitation. And since they are so very meritorious, why is your sex deprived of the happiness of their conversation, and why are they denied the pleasure which the society of women might afford them? Cristo benedetto! cried the lady, You do not understand this matter.Though none deserve the pleasures of this world, but those who think only on the next; yet none can obtain the joys of the next, who indulge in the pleasures of this. That is unlucky, said I. Unlucky! to be sure it is the most unlucky thing that could have happened, ecco dove mi doleva, added the lady. Though Naples is admirably situated for commerce, and no kingdom produces the necessaries and luxuries of life in greater profusion, yet trade is but in a languishing condition; the best silks come from Lyons, and the best woollen goods from England. The chief articles manufactured here, at present, are, silk stockings, soap, snuff boxes of tortoise shells, and of the lava of Mount Vesuvius, tables, and ornamental furniture, of marble. They are thought to embroider here better than even in France; and their macaroni is preferred to that made in any other part of Italy. The Neapolitans excel also in liqueurs and confections; particularly in one kind of confection, which is sold at a very high price, called Diabolonis. This drug, as you will guess from its name, is of a very hot and stimulating nature, and what I should think by no means requisite to Neapolitan constitutions. The inhabitants of this town are computed at three hundred and fifty thousand. I make no doubt of their amounting to that number; for though Naples is not one third of the size of London, yet many of the streets here are more crowded than the Strand. In London and Paris, the people who fill the streets are mere passengers, hurrying from place to place on business; and when they choose to converge, or to amuse themselves, they resort to the public walks or gardens: at Naples, the citizens have fewer avocations of business to excite their activity; no public walks, or gardens to which they can resort; and are, therefore, more frequently seen sauntering and conversing in the streets, where a great proportion of the poorest sort, for want of habitations, are obliged to spend the night as well as the day. While you sit in your chamber at London, or at Paris, the usual noise you hear from the streets, is that of carriages; but at Naples, where they talk with uncommon vivacity, and where whole streets full of talkers are in continual employment the noise of carriages is completely drowned in the aggregated clack of human voices. In the midst of all this idleness, fewer riots or outrages of any kind happen, than might be expected in a town where the police is far from being strict, and where such multitudes of poor unemployed people meet together every day. This partly proceeds from the national character of the Italians; which, in my opinion, is quiet, submissive, and averse to riot or sedition; and partly to the common people being universally sober, and never inflamed with strong and spirituous liquors, as they are in the northern countries. Iced water and lemonade are among the luxuries of the lowest vulgar; they are carried about in little barrels, and sold in halfpennys worth. The half naked lazzarone is often tempted to spend the small pittance destined for the maintenance of his family, on this bewitching beverage, as the most dissolute of the low people in London spend their wages on gin and brandy; so that the same extravagance which cools the mob of the one city, tends to inflame that of the other to acts of excess and brutality. There is not, perhaps, a city in the world, with the same number of inhabitants, in which so few contribute to the wealth of the community by useful, or by productive labour, as Naples; but the numbers of priests, monks, fiddlers, lawyers, nobility, footmen, and lazzaronis, surpass all reasonable proportion; the last alone are computed at thirty or forty thousand. If these poor fellows are idle, it is not their own fault; they are continually running about the streets, as we are told of the artificers of China; offering their service, and begging for employment; and are considered, by many, as of more real utility than any of the classes above mentioned. LETTER LV. Naples. There is an assembly once a week at the house of the British minister; no assembly in Naples is more numerous, or more brilliant, than this. Exclusive of that gentlemans good qualities, and those accomplishments which procure esteem in any situation, he would meet with every mark of regard from the Neapolitan nobles, on account of the high favour in which he stands with their Sovereign. Sir Ws house is open to strangers of every country who come to Naples properly recommended, as well as to the English; he has a private concert almost every evening. Ly H understands music perfectly, and performs in such a manner, as to command the admiration even of the Neapolitans. Sir W, who is the happiest tempered man in the world, and the easiest amused, performs also, and succeeds perfectly in amusing himself, which is a more valuable attainment than the other. The Neapolitan nobility are excessively fond of splendour and show. This appears in the brilliancy of their equipages, the number of their attendants, the richness of their dress, and the grandeur of their titles. I am assured, that the King of Naples counts a hundred persons with the title of Prince, and still a greater number with that of Duke, among his subjects. Six or seven of these have estates, which produce from ten to twelve or thirteen thousand pounds a year; a considerable number have fortunes of about half that value; and the annual revenue of many is not above one or two thousand pounds. With respect to the inferior orders of nobility, they are much poorer; many Counts and Marquisses have not above three or four hundred pounds a year of paternal estate, many still less, and not a few enjoy the title without any estate whatever. When we consider the magnificence of their entertainments, the splendour of their equipages, and the number of their servants, we are surprised that the richest of them can support such expensive establishments. I dined, soon after our arrival, at the Prince of Franca Villas; there were about forty people at table; it was meagre day; the dinner consisted entirely of fish and vegetables, and was the most magnificent entertainment I ever saw, comprehending an infinite variety of dishes, a vast profusion of fruit, and the wines of every country in Europe. I dined since at the Prince Iaccis. I shall mention two circumstances, from which you may form an idea of the grandeur of an Italian palace, and the number of domestics which some of the nobility retain. We passed through twelve or thirteen large rooms before we arrived at the dining room; there were thirtysix persons at table, none served but the Princes domestics, and each guest had a footman behind his chair; other domestics belonging to the Prince remained in the adjacent rooms, and in the hall. We afterwards passed through a considerable number of other rooms in our way to one from which there is a very commanding view. No estate in England could support such a number of servants, paid and fed as English servants are; but here the wages are very moderate indeed, and the greater number of men servants, belonging to the first families, give their attendance through the day only, and find beds and provisions for themselves. It must be remembered, also, that few of the nobles give entertainments, and those who do not, are said to live very sparingly; so that the whole of their revenue, whatever that may be, is exhausted on articles of show. As there is no Opera at present, the people of fashion generally pass part of the evening at the Corso, on the seashore. This is the great scene of Neapolitan splendour and parade; and, on grand occasions, the magnificence displayed here will strike a stranger very much. The finest carriages are painted, gilt, varnished, and lined, in a richer and more beautiful manner, than has as yet become fashionable either in England or France; they are often drawn by six, and sometimes by eight horses. As the last is the number allotted to his Britannic Majesty when he goes to parliament, some of our countrymen are offended that any individuals whatsoever should presume to drive with the same number. It is the mode here, to have two running footmen, very gaily dressed, before the carriage, and three or four servants in rich liveries behind; these attendants are generally the handsomest young men that can be procured. The ladies or gentlemen within the coaches, glitter in all the brilliancy of lace, embroidery, and jewels. The Neapolitan carriages, for gala days, are made on purpose, with very large windows, that the spectators may enjoy a full view of the parties within. Nothing can be more showy than the harness of the horses; their heads and manes are ornamented with the rarest plumage, and their tails set off with riband and artificial flowers, in such a graceful manner that you are apt to think they have been adorned by the same hands that dressed the heads of the ladies, and not by common grooms. After all, you will perhaps imagine the amusement cannot be very great. The carriages follow each other in two lines, moving in opposite directions. The company within smile, and bow, and wave the hand, as they pass and repass their acquaintance; and doubtless imagine, that they are the most important figures in the procession. The horses, however, seem to be quite of a different way of thinking, and to consider themselves as the chief objects of admiration, looking on the livery servants, the volantis, the lords, and the ladies, as their natural suit on all such solemn occasions. LETTER LVI. Naples. The greatest part of kings, whatever may be thought of them after their death, have the good fortune to be represented, at some period of their lives, generally at the beginning of their reigns, as the greatest and most virtuous of mankind. They are never compared to characters of less dignity than Solomon, Alexander, Csar, or Titus; and the comparison usually concludes to the advantage of the living monarch. They differ in this, as in many other particulars, from those of the most distinguished genius and exalted merit among their subjects, That the fame of the latter, if any awaits them, seldom arrives at its meridian till many years after their death; whereas the glory of the former is at its fullest splendour during their lives; and most of them have the satisfaction of hearing all their praises with their own ears. Each particular monarch, taken separately, is, or has been, considered as a star of great lustre; yet any number of them, taken without selection, and placed in the historical galaxy, add little to its brightness, and are often contemplated with disgust. When we have occasion to mention kings in general, the expression certainly does not awaken a recollection of the most amiable or most deserving part of the human species; and tyranny in no country is pushed so far, as to constrain men to speak of them, when we speak in general terms, as if they were. It would revolt the feelings, and rouse the indignation, even of slaves. Full freedom is allowed therefore on this topic; and, under the most arbitrary government, if you chuse to declaim on the imbecility, profligacy, or corruption of human nature, you may draw your illustrations from the kings of any country, provided you take them in groupes, and hint nothing to the detriment of the reigning monarch. But, when we talk of any one living sovereign, we should never allow it to escape from our memory, that he is wise, valiant, generous, and good; and we ought always to have Solomon, Alexander, Csar, and Titus, at our elbow, to introduce them apropos when occasion offers. We may have what opinion we please of the whole race of Bourbon; but it would be highly indecent to deny, that the reigning kings of Spain and Naples are very great princes. As I never had the happiness of seeing the father, I can only speak of the son. His Neapolitan Majesty seems to be about the age of six or sevenandtwenty. He is a prince of great activity of body, and a good constitution; he indulges in frequent relaxations from the cares of government and the fatigue of thinking, by hunting and other exercises; and (which ought to give a high idea of his natural talents) he never fails to acquire a very considerable degree of perfection in those things to which he applies. He is very fond, like the King of Prussia, of reviewing his troops, and is perfectly master of the whole mystery of the manual exercise. I have had the honour, oftener than once, of seeing him exercise the different regiments which form the garrison here: he always gave the word of command with his own royal mouth, and with a precision which seemed to astonish the whole Court. This monarch is also a very excellent shot; his uncommon success at this diversion is thought to have roused the jealousy of his Most Catholic Majesty, who also values himself on his skill as a marksman. The correspondence between those two great personages often relates to their favourite amusement.A gentleman, who came lately from Madrid, told me, that the King, on some occasion, had read a letter which he had just received from his son at Naples, wherein he complained of his bad success on a shooting party, having killed no more than eighty birds in a day: and the Spanish monarch, turning to his courtiers, said, in a plaintive tone of voice, Mio filio piange di non aver fatto piu di ottante beccacie in uno giorno, quando mi crederei luomo il piu felice del mondo se potesse fare quaranta. All who take a becoming share in the afflictions of a royal bosom, will no doubt join with me, in wishing better success to this good monarch, for the future. Fortunate would it be for mankind, if the happiness of their princes could be purchased at so easy a rate! and thrice fortunate for the generous people of Spain, if the family connexions of their monarch, often at variance with the real interest of that country, should never seduce him into a more ruinous war, than that which he now wages against the beasts of the field and the birds of the air. His Neapolitan Majesty, as I am informed, possesses many other accomplishments; I particularise those only to which I have myself been a witness. No king in Europe is supposed to understand the game of billiards better. I had the pleasure of seeing him strike the most brilliant stroke that perhaps ever was struck by a crowned head. The ball of his antagonist was near one of the middle pockets, and his own in such a situation, that it was absolutely necessary to make it rebound from two different parts of the cushion, before it could pocket the other. A person of less enterprise would have been contented with placing himself in a safe situation, at a small loss, and never have risqued any offensive attempt against the enemy; but the difficulty and danger, instead of intimidating, seemed rather to animate the ambition of this Prince. He summoned all his address; he estimated, with a mathematical eye, the angles at which the ball must fly off; and he struck it with an undaunted mind and a steady hand. It rebounded obliquely, from the opposite sidecushion, to that at the end; from which it moved in a direct line towards the middle pocket, which seemed to stand in gaping expectation to receive it. The hearts of the spectators beat thick as it rolled along; and they shewed, by the contortions of their faces and persons, how much they feared that it should move one hairbreadth in a wrong direction.I must here interrupt this important narrative, to observe, that, when I talk of contortions, if you form your idea from any thing of that kind which you may have seen around an English billiardtable or bowlinggreen, you can have no just notion of those which were exhibited on this occasion: your imagination must triple the force and energy of every English grimace, before it can do justice to the nervous twist of an Italian countenance.At length the royal ball reached that of the enemy, and with a single blow drove it off the plain. An universal shout of joy, triumph, and applause burst from the beholders; but, O thoughtless mortals, ever blind to fate, Too soon dejected, and too soon elate! the victorious ball, pursuing the enemy too far, shared the same fate, and was buried in the same grave, with the vanquished. This fatal and unforeseen event seemed to make a deep impression on the minds of all who were witnesses to it; and will no doubt be recorded in the annals of the present reign, and quoted by future poets and historians, as a striking instance of the instability of sublunary felicity. It is imagined that the cabinet of this Court is entirely guided by that of Spain; which, on its part, is thought to be greatly under the influence of French counsels. The manners, as well as the politics, of France, are said to prevail at present at the Court of Madrid. I do not presume to say of what nature the politics of his Neapolitan Majesty are, or whether he is fond of French counsels or not; but no trueborn Englishman existing can shew a more perfect contempt of their manners than he does. In domestic life, this Prince is generally allowed to be an easy master, a goodnatured husband, a dutiful son, and an indulgent father. The Queen of Naples is a beautiful woman, and seems to possess the affability, goodhumour, and benevolence, which distinguish, in such an amiable manner, the Austrian family. LETTER LVII. Naples. The hereditary jurisdiction of the nobles over their vassals subsists, both in the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, in the full rigour of the feudal government. The peasants therefore are poor; and it depends entirely on the personal character of the masters, whether their poverty is not the least of their grievances. If the land was leased out to free farmers, whose property was perfectly secure, and the leases of a sufficient length to allow the tenant to reap the fruits of his own improvements, there is no manner of doubt that the estates of the nobility would produce much more. The landlord might have a higher rent paid in money, instead of being collected in kind, which subjects him to the salaries and impositions of a numerous train of stewards; and the tenants, on their parts, would be enabled to live much more comfortably, and to lay up, every year, a small pittance for their families. But the love of domineering is so predominant in the breasts of men who have been accustomed to it from their infancy, that, if the alternative were in their choice, many of them would rather submit to be themselves slaves to the caprices of an absolute prince, than become perfectly independent, on the condition of giving independence to their vassals. There is reason to believe that this ungenerous spirit prevails pretty universally among the nobility all over Europe. The German Barons are more shocked at the idea of their peasants becoming perfectly free, like the farmers of Great Britain, than they are solicitous to limit the power of their princes: And, from the sentiments I have heard expressed by the French, I very much doubt, whether their high nobility would accept of the privileges of English peers, at the expence of that insolent superiority, and those licentious freedoms, with which they may, though no English peer can, treat with impunity the citizens and people of inferior rank. We need be the less surprised at this, when we consider that, in some parts of the British empire, where the equable and generous laws of England prevail, those who set the highest value on freedom, who submit to every hardship, and encounter every danger, to secure it to themselves, never have shewn a disposition of extending its blessings, or even alleviating the bondage of that part of the human species, which a sordid and unjustifiable barter has brought into their power. The Court of Naples has not yet ventured, by one open act of authority, to abolish the immoderate power of the lords over their tenants. But it is believed that the Minister secretly wishes for its destruction; and in cases of flagrant oppression, when complaints are brought before the legal courts, or directly to the King himself, by the peasants against their lord, it is generally remarked that the Minister favours the complainant. Notwithstanding this, the masters have so many opportunities of oppressing, and such various methods of teasing, their vassals, that they generally chuse to bear their wrongs in silence; and perceiving that those who hold their lands immediately from the Crown, are in a much easier situation than themselves; without raising their hopes to perfect freedom, the height of their wishes is to be sheltered, from the vexations of little tyrants, under the unlimited power of one common master. The objects of royal attention, they fondly imagine, are too sublime, and the minds of kings too generous, to stoop to, or even to countenance, in their servants, the minute and unreasonable exertions, which are wrung at present from the hard hands of the exhausted labourer. Though the Neapolitan nobility still retain the ancient feudal authority over the peasants, yet their personal importance depends, in a great measure, on the favour of the King; who, under pretext of any offence, can confine them to their own estates, or imprison them at pleasure; and who, without any alleged offence, and without going to such extremes, can inflict a punishment, highly sensible to them, by not inviting them to the amusements of the Court, or not receiving them with smiles when they attend on any ordinary occasion. Unless this Prince were so very impolitic as to disgust all the nobility at once, and so unite the whole body against him, he has little to fear from their resentment. Even in case of such an union, as the nobles have lost the affection and attachment of their peasants, what could they do in opposition to a standing army of thirty thousand men, entirely devoted to the Crown? The establishment of standing armies has universally given stability to the power of the prince, and ruined that of the great lords. No nobility in Europe can now be said to inherit political importance, or to act independent of, or in opposition to, the influence of the crown; except the temporal peers of that part of Great Britain called England. As men of high birth are seldom, in this country, called to the management of public affairs, or placed in those situations where great political knowledge is required; and as his Majesty relies on his own talents and experience in war for the direction of the army; neither the civil nor military establishments open any very tempting field for the ambition of the nobles, whose education is usually adapted to the parts in life which they have a probability of acting. Their fortunes and titles descend to them, independent of any effort of their own. All the literary distinctions are beneath their regard; it is therefore not thought expedient to cloud the playful innocence of their childhood, or the amiable gaiety of their youth, with severe study. In some other countries, where a very small portion of literary education is thought becoming for young men of rank, and where even this small portion has been neglected, they sometimes catch a little knowledge of history and mythology, and some useful moral sentiments, from the excellent dramatic pieces that are represented on their theatres. They also sometimes pick up some notion of the different governments in Europe, and a few political ideas, in the course of their travels. But the nobility of this country very seldom travel; and the only dramatic pieces, represented here, are operas; in which music, not sentiment, is the principal thing attended to. In the other theatrical entertainments, Punchinello is the shining character. To this disregard of literature among the nobles, it is owing, that in their body are to be found few tiresome, scholastic pedants, and none of those perturbed spirits, who ruffle the serenity of nations by political alarms, who clog the wheels of government by opposition, who pry into the conduct of ministers, or in any way disturb that total indifference with regard to the public, which prevails all over this kingdom. We are told by a great modern Historian6, that force of mind, a sense of personal dignity, gallantry in enterprise, invincible perseverance in execution, contempt of danger and of death, are the characteristic virtues of uncivilised nations. But as the nobles of this country have long been sufficiently civilised, these qualities may in them be supposed to have given place to the arts which embellish a polished age; to gaming, gallantry, music, the parade of equipage, the refinements of dress, and other nameless refinements. 6 Vide Dr. Robertsons History of the Emperor Charles V. Sect. I. LETTER LVIII. Naples. The citizens of Naples form a society of their own, perfectly distinct from the nobility; and although they are not the most industrious people in the world, yet, having some degree of occupation, and their time being divided between business and pleasure, they probably have more enjoyment than those, who, without internal resources, or opportunities of active exertion, pass their lives in sensual gratifications, and in waiting the returns of appetite around a gaming table. In the most respectable class of citizens, are comprehended the lawyers, of whom there are an incredible number in this town. The most eminent of this profession hold, indeed, a kind of intermediate rank between the nobility and citizens; the rest are on a level with the physicians, the principal merchants, and the artists; none of whom can make great fortunes, however industrious they may be; but a moderate income enables them to support their rank in society, and to enjoy all the conveniences, and many of the luxuries, of life. England is perhaps the only nation in Europe where some individuals, of every profession, even of the lowest, find it possible to accumulate great fortunes; the effect of this very frequently is, that the son despises the profession of the father, commences gentleman, and dissipates, in a few years, what cost a life to gather. In the principal cities of Germany and Italy, we find, that the ancestors of many of those citizens who are the most eminent in their particular businesses, have transmitted the art to them through several generations. It is natural to imagine, that this will tend to the improvement of the art, or science, or profession, as well as the family fortune; and that the third generation will acquire knowledge from the experience, as well as wealth from the industry, of the former two; whereas, in the cases alluded to above, the wheel of fortune moves differently. A man, by assiduity in a particular business, and by genius, acquires a great fortune and a high reputation; the son throws away the fortune, and ruins his own character by extravagance; and the grandson is obliged to recommence the business, unaided by the wealth or experience of his ancestors. This, however, is pointing out an evil which I should be sorry to see remedied; because it certainly originates in the riches and prosperity of the country in which it exists. The number of priests, monks, and ecclesiastics of all the various orders that swarm in this city, is prodigious; and the provision appropriated for their use, is as ample, I am assured, that the clergy are in possession of considerably above onethird of the revenue of the whole kingdom, over and above what some particular orders among them acquire by begging for the use of their convents, and what is gotten in legacies by the address and assiduity of the whole. The unproductive wealth, which is lodged in the churches and convents of this city, amounts also to an amazing value. Not to be compared in point of architecture to the churches and convents of Rome, those of Naples surpass them in riches, in the value of their jewels, and in the quantity of silver and golden crucifixes, vessels, and implements of various kinds. I have often heard these estimated at a sum so enormous as to surpass all credibility; and which, as I have no opportunity of ascertaining with any degree of precision, I shall not mention. This wealth, whatever it amounts to, is of as little use to the kingdom, as if it still remained in the mines of Peru; and the greater part of it, surely, affords as little comfort to the clergy and monks as to any other part of the community; for though it belongs to their church, or their convent, yet it can no more be converted to the use of the priests and monks of such churches and convents, than to the tradesmen who inhabit the adjacent streets. For this reason I am a good deal surprised, that no pretext, or subterfuge, has been found, no expedient fallen on, no treaty or convention made, for appropriating part of this at least, to the use of some set of people or other. If the clergy were to lay their hands on it, this might be found fault with by the King; if his Majesty dreamt of taking any part of it for the exigencies of the state, the clergy would undoubtedly raise a clamour; and if both united, the Pope would think he had a right to pronounce his veto; but if all these three powers could come to an understanding, and settle their proportions, I am apt to think a partition might be made as quietly as that of Poland. Whatever scruples the Neapolitan clergy may have to such a project, they certainly have none to the full enjoyment of their revenues. No class of men can be less disposed to offend Providence by a peevish neglect of the good things which the bounty of heaven has bestowed. Selfdenial is a virtue, which I will not say they possess in a smaller degree, but which, I am sure, they affect less than any other ecclesiastics I know; they live very much in society, both with the nobles and citizens. All of them, the monks not excepted, attend the theatre, and seem to join most cordially in other diversions and amusements; the common people are no ways offended at this, or imagine that they ought to live in a more recluse manner. Some of the orders have had the address to make a concern for their temporal interest, and a desire of seeing them live full, and in something of a jolly manner, be regarded by the common people as a proof of zeal for religion. I am informed, that a very considerable diminution in the number of monks has taken place in the kingdom of Naples since the suppression of the Jesuits, and since a liberty of quitting the cowl was granted by the late Pope; but still there is no reason to complain of a deficiency in this order of men. The richest and most commodious convents in Europe, both for male and female votaries, are in this city; the most fertile and beautiful hills of the environs are covered with them; a small part of their revenue is spent in feeding the poor, the monks distributing bread and soup to a certain number every day before the doors of the convents. Some of the friars study physic and surgery, and practise these arts with great applause. Each convent has an apothecarys shop belonging to it, where medicines are delivered gratis to the poor, and sold to those who can afford to pay. On all these accounts the monks in general are greater favourites with the common people than even the secular clergy; all the charity of the friars, however, would not be able to cover their sins, if the stories circulated by their enemies were true,by which they are represented as the greatest profligates and debauchees in the world. Without giving credit to all that is reported on this subject, as the Neapolitan monks are very well fed, as this climate is not the most favourable to continency (a virtue which in this place is by no means estimated in proportion to its rarity), it is most likely that the inhabitants of the convents, like the inhabitants in general, indulge in certain pleasures with less scruple or restraint than is usual in some other places. Be that as it may, it is certain that they are the most superstitious of mankind; a turn of mind which they communicate with equal zeal and success to a people remarkably ignorant, and remarkably amorous. The seeds of superstition thus zealously sown on such a warm and fertile, though uncultivated, soil, sometimes produce the most extraordinary crops of sensuality and devotion that ever were seen in any country. The lazzaroni, or blackguards, as has been already observed, form a considerable part of the inhabitants of Naples; and have, on some wellknown occasions, had the government for a short time in their own hands. They are computed at above thirty thousand; the greater part of them have no dwellinghouses, but sleep every night under porticos, piazzas, or any kind of shelter they can find. Those of them who have wives and children, live in the suburbs of Naples near Pausilippo, in huts, or in caverns or chambers dug out of that mountain. Some gain a livelihood by fishing, others by carrying burdens to and from the shipping; many walk about the streets ready to run on errands, or to perform any labour in their power for a very small recompence. As they do not meet with constant employment, their wages are not sufficient for their maintenance; the soup and bread distributed at the door of the convents supply the deficiency. The lazzaroni are generally represented as a lazy, licentious, and turbulent set of people; what I have observed gives me a very different idea of their character. Their idleness is evidently the effect of necessity, not of choice; they are always ready to perform any work, however laborious, for a very reasonable gratification. It must proceed from the fault of Government, when such a number of stout active citizens remain unemployed; and so far are they from being licentious and turbulent, that I cannot help thinking they are by much too tame and submissive. Though the inhabitants of the Italian cities were the first who shook off the feudal yoke, and though in Naples they have long enjoyed the privilege of municipal jurisdiction, yet the external splendour of the nobles, and the authority they still exercise over the peasants, impose upon the minds of the lazzaroni; and however bold and resentful they may be of injuries offered by others, they bear the insolence of the nobility as passively as peasants fixed to the soil. A coxcomb of a volanti tricked out in his fantastical dress, or any of the liveried slaves of the great, make no ceremony of treating these poor fellows with all the insolence and insensibility natural to their matters; and for no visible reason, but because he is dressed in lace, and the others in rags. Instead of calling to them to make way, when the noise in the streets prevents the common people from hearing the approach of the carriage, a stroke across the shoulders with the cane of the running footman, is the usual warning they receive. Nothing animates this people to insurrection, but some very pressing and very universal cause; such as a scarcity of bread: every other grievance they bear as if it were their charter. When we consider thirty thousand human creatures without beds or habitations, wandering almost naked in search of food through the streets of a well built city; when we think of the opportunities they have of being together, of comparing their own destitute situation with the affluence of others, one cannot help being astonished at their patience. Let the prince be distinguished by splendour and magnificence; let the great and the rich have their luxuries; but, in the name of humanity, let the poor, who are willing to labour, have food in abundance to satisfy the cravings of nature, and raiment to defend them from the inclemencies of the weather! If their governors, whether from weakness or neglect, do not supply them with these, they certainly have a right to help themselves.Every law of equity and common sense will justify them, in revolting against such governors, and in satisfying their own wants from the superfluities of lazy luxury. LETTER LIX. Naples. I have made several visits to the museum at Portici, principally, as you may believe, to view the antiquities dug out of Herculaneum and Pompeia. The work publishing by Government, ornamented with engravings of the chief articles of this curious collection, will, in all probability, be continued for many years, as new articles worthy of the sculptors art are daily discovered, and as a vast mine of curiosities is supposed to be concealed in the unopened streets of Pompeia. Among the ancient paintings, those which ornamented the theatre of Herculaneum are more elegant than any that have hitherto been found at Pompeia. All those paintings were executed upon the stucco which lined the walls; they have been sawed off with great labour and address, and are now preserved in glass cases; the colours, we are told, were much brighter before they were drawn out of their subterraneous abode, and exposed to the open air; they are, however, still wonderfully lively: the subjects are understood at the first glance by those who are acquainted with the Grecian history and mythology. There is a Chiron teaching Achilles to play on the lyre, Ariadne deserted, the Judgment of Paris, some Bacchantes and Fauns; the largest piece represents Theseuss victory over the Minotaur. It consists of seven or eight figures very well grouped, but a Frieze, with a dancing woman, on a black ground, not above ten inches long, is thought the best. We ought not, however, to judge of the progress which the ancients had made in the art of painting, by the degree of perfection which appears in those pictures. It is not probable that the best paintings of ancient Greece or Italy were at Herculaneum; and, if it could be ascertained that some of the productions of the best matters were there, it would not follow that those which have been discovered are of that class. If a stranger were to enter at random a few houses in London, and see some tolerably good pictures there, he could not with propriety conclude that the best of them were the very best in London. The paintings brought from Herculaneum are perfect proofs that the ancients had made that progress in the art, which those pictures indicate; but do not form even a presumption, that they had not made a much greater. It is almost demonstrable that these paintings are not of their best. The same school which formed the sculptor to correctness, would form the painter to equal correctness in his drawings, however deficient he might be in all the other parts of his art. Their best statues are correct in their proportions, and elegant in their forms: These paintings are not correct in their proportions, and are comparatively inelegant in their forms. Among the statues, the drunken Faun and the Mercury are the best. There are some fine bronze busts; the intaglios and cameos, which hitherto have been found either in Herculaneum or Pompeia, are reckoned but indifferent. The elegance of form, with the admirable workmanship, of the ornamental furniture and domestic utensils, in silver and other metals; the variety and beauty of the lamps, tripods, and vases; sufficiently testify, if there were no other proofs, the fertile imagination and exquisite execution of the ancient artists. And, had their own poets and historians been quite silent concerning the Roman refinements in the art of cookery, and the luxury of their tables; the prodigious variety of culinary instruments, the moulds for jellies, for confections, and pastry, which are collected in this museum, would afford a strong presumption that the great men of our own days have a nearer resemblance to those ancient conquerors of the world, than is generally imagined. Many of the ancient manuscripts found at Herculaneum have been carried to Madrid; but a great number still remain at Portici. Great pains have been bestowed, and much ingenuity displayed, in separating and unrolling the sheets, without destroying the writing. This has succeeded in a certain degree; though, in spite of all the skill and attention of those who are employed in this very delicate work, the copiers are obliged to leave many blanks where the letters are obliterated. The manuscripts hitherto unrolled and copied, are in the Greek language, and not of a very important nature. As the unrolling those papers must take up a great deal of time, and requires infinite address, it is to be wished that his Neapolitan Majesty would send one at least to every university in Europe, that the abilities of the most ingenious men of every country might be exercised on a subject so universally interesting. The method which should be found to succeed best, might be immediately made known, and applied to the unfolding of the remaining manuscripts. The probability of recovering those works, whose loss the learned have so long lamented, would by this means be greatly increased. Herculaneum and Pompeia were destroyed by the same eruption of Mount Vesuvius, about seventeen hundred years ago. The former was a town of much more magnificence than the other; but it is infinitely more difficult to be cleared of the matter which covers it. Sir William Hamilton, in his accurate and judicious observations on Mount Vesuvius, asserts, that there are evident marks that the matter of six eruptions has taken its course over this devoted town, since the great explosion which involved it in the same fate with Pompeia. These different eruptions have all happened at considerable distances of time from each other. This appears by the layers of good soil which are found between them. But the matter which immediately covers the town, and with which the theatre, and all the houses hitherto examined, were found filled, is not lava, but a sort of soft stone, composed of pumice and ashes, intermixed with earth. This has saved the pictures, manuscripts, busts, utensils, and other antiquities, which have been recovered out of Herculaneum, from utter destruction. For if any of the six succeeding eruptions had happened previous to this, and the redhot liquid lava, of which they consisted, had flowed into the open city, it would have filled every street, scorched up every combustible substance with intense heat, involving the houses, and all they contained, in one solid rock of lava, undistinguishable, and for ever inseparable, from it. The eruption, which buried the city in cinders, earth, and ashes, has in some measure preserved it from the more destructive effects of the fiery torrents which have overwhelmed it since. When we consider that the intervals between those eruptions were sufficiently long to allow a soil to be formed upon the hardened lava of each; that a new city has been actually built on the lava of the last eruption; and that the ancient city is from seventy to one hundred feet below the present surface of the earth; we must acknowledge it more surprising that any, than that so few, of its ornaments have been recovered. At the beginning of the present century, any body would have imagined that the busts, statues and pictures of Herculaneum had not a much better chance, than the persons they represent, of appearing again, within a few years, upon the surface of this globe. The case is different with regard to Pompeia. Though it was not discovered till about twentyfive years ago, which is forty years almost after the discovery of Herculaneum, yet the probability was greatly in favour of its being discovered sooner, for Pompeia has felt the effects of a single eruption only; it is not buried above twelve feet below the surface of the ground, and the earth, ashes, cinders, and pumicestones, with which it is covered, are so light, and so little tenacious, that they might be removed with no great difficulty. If the attention of his Neapolitan Majesty were not engrossed with more important concerns, he might have the whole town uncovered in a very short space of time; half the lazzaroni of Naples could complete the business in one year. Hitherto only one street and a few detached buildings are cleared; the street is well paved with the same kind of stone of which the ancient roads are made, narrow causeways are raised a foot and an half on each side for the conveniency of foot passengers. The street itself, to my recollection, is not so broad as the narrowest part of the Strand, and is supposed to have been inhabited by tradespeople. The traces of wheels of carriages are to be seen on the pavement; the distance between the traces is less than that between the wheels of a modern postchaise. I remarked this the more as, on my first viewing the street, I doubted whether there was room for two modern coaches to pass each other. I plainly saw there was sufficient room for two of the ancient chariots, whose wheels were of no greater distance than between the traces on the pavement. The houses are small, and in a very different style from the modern Italian houses; for the former give an idea of neatness and conveniency. The stucco on the walls is hard as marble, smooth and beautiful. Some of the rooms are ornamented with paintings, mostly single figures, representing some animal; they are tolerably well executed, and on a little water being thrown on them, the colours appear surprisingly fresh. Most of the houses are built on the same plan, and have one small room from the passage, which is conjectured to have been the shop, with a window to the street, and a place which seems to have been contrived for shewing the goods to the greatest advantage. The nature of the traffic carried on at one particular house, is indicated by a figure in alto relievo of a very expressive kind, immediately above the door. It is to be wished they would cover one of the best houses with a roof, as nearly resembling that which originally belonged to it as they could imagine, with a complete assortment of the antique furniture of the kitchen and each particular room. Such a house fitted up with accuracy and judgment, with all its utensils and ornaments properly arranged, would be an object of universal curiosity, and would swell the heart of the antiquarian with veneration and delight. Only imagine, my dear Sir, what those gentlemen must feel, when they see the venerable habitations of the ancients in their present mournful condition, neglected, despised, abandoned to the peltings of rain, and all the injuries of the weather! those precious walls, which, were it possible to transport them to the various countries of the world, would be bought with avidity, and placed in the gardens of Princes! How must the bosoms of all true virtuosos glow with indignation, when they behold the mansions of the ancient Romans stripped of their ornaments, dishonoured, and exposed, like a parcel of ragged galley slaves, in the most indecent manner, with hardly any covering to their nakedness; while a little paltry brick house, coming the Lord knows how, from a country which men of taste have always despised, has been received with hospitality, dressed in a fine coat of the richest marble, adorned with jewels and precious stones, and treated with every mark of honourable distinction! In another part of the town of Pompeia, there is a rectangular building, with a colonade, towards the court, something in the style of the Royal Exchange at London, but smaller. This has every appearance of a barrack and guard room; the pillars are of brick, covered with shining stucco, elegantly fluted; the scrawlings and drawings still visible on the walls, are such as we might naturally expect on the walls of a guard room, where soldiers are the designers, and swords the engraving tools. They consist of gladiators fighting, some with each other, some with wild beasts; the games of the circus, as chariot races, wrestling, and the like; a few figures in caricatura, designed probably by some of the soldiers, in ridicule of their companions, or perhaps of their officers; and there are abundance of names inscribed on various parts of the wall, according to the universal custom of the humblest candidates for fame in all ages and countries. It may be safely asserted, that none of those who have endeavoured to transmit their names to posterity in this manner, have succeeded so well as the soldiers of the garrison of Pompeia. At a considerable distance from the barrack, is a building, known by the inscription upon it, for a temple of the goddess Isis; there is nothing very magnificent in its appearance; the pillars are of brick stuccoed like those of the guard room. The best paintings, hitherto found at Pompeia, are those of this temple; they have been cut out of the walls and removed to Portici. It was absolutely necessary to do this with the pictures at Herculaneum, because there they could not be seen without the help of torches; but here, where they could be seen by the light of the Sun, they would, in my humble opinion, have appeared to more advantage, and have had a better effect in the identical situation in which they were placed by the ancient artist. A few still remain, particularly one, which is considered by travellers as a great curiosity; it is a small view of a villa, with the gardens belonging to it. There is one house or villa without the walls, on a much larger scale than any of the others. In a large cellar, or vaulted gallery, belonging to this house, there are a number of amphor, or earthen vessels, arranged along the walls; most of them filled with a kind of red substance, supposed to have been wine. This cellar is sunk about twothirds below the surface of the ground, and is lighted by small narrow windows. I have called it gallery, because it is about twelve feet in width, and is the whole length of two adjoining sides of the square which the villa forms. It was used not only as a repository for wine, but also as a cool retreat for the family during excessive hot weather. Some of this unfortunate family sought shelter in this place from the destructive shower which overwhelmed the town. Eight skeletons, four being those of children, were found here; where they must have met a more cruel and lingering death, than that which they shunned. In one room, the body of a man was found; with an ax in the hand; it is probable he had been endeavouring to cut a passage into the open air; he had broken and pierced the wall, but had expired before he could clear away the surrounding rubbish. Few skeletons were found in the streets, but a considerable number in the houses. Before the decisive shower fell, which smothered the inhabitants of this ill fated city, perhaps such quantities of ashes and cinders were occasionally falling, as frightened, and obliged them to keep within doors. It is impossible to view those skeletons, and reflect on this dreadful catastrophe, without horror and compassion. We cannot think of the inhabitants of a whole town being destroyed at once, without imagining that their fate has been uncommonly severe. But are not the inhabitants of all the towns then existing, of whom we think without any emotion of pity, as completely dead as those of Pompeia? And could we take them one by one, and consider the nature of their deaths, and the circumstances attending that of each individual; some destroyed by painful bodily diseases, some by the torture of the executioner, some bowed to the grave by the weight of accumulated sorrow, and the slow anguish of a broken heart, after having suffered the pangs of dissolution, over and over again, in the death of those they loved, after having beheld the dying agonies of their children; could all this, I say, be appraised, calculated, and compared, the balance of suffering might not be found with the inhabitants of Pompeia, but rather with those of the contemporary cities, who, perhaps at that time, as we do now, lamented its severe fate. LETTER LX. Naples. As I sauntered along the Strada Nuova lately, I perceived a groupe of people listening, with much attention, to a person who harangued them in a raised, solemn voice, and with great gesticulation. I immediately made one of the auditory, which increased every moment; men, women, and children bringing seats from the neighbouring houses, on which they placed themselves around the orator. He repeated stanzas from Ariosto, in a pompous, recitativo cadence, peculiar to the natives of Italy; and he had a book in his hand, to assist his memory when it failed. He made occasional commentaries in prose, by way of bringing the Poets expression nearer to the level of his hearers capacities. His cloak hung loose from one shoulder; his right arm was disengaged, for the purposes of oratory. Sometimes he waved it with a slow, smooth motion, which accorded with the cadence of the verses; sometimes he pressed it to his breast, to give energy to the pathetic sentiments of the Poet. Now he gathered the hanging folds of the right side of his cloak, and held them gracefully up, in imitation of a Roman senator; and anon he swung them across his left shoulder, like a citizen of Naples. He humoured the stanza by his voice, which he could modulate to the key of any passion, from the boisterous bursts of rage, to the soft notes of pity or love. But, when he came to describe the exploits of Orlando, he trusted neither to the powers of his own voice, nor the Poets genius; but, throwing off his cloak, and grasping his cane, he assumed the warlike attitude and stern countenance of that hero; representing, by the most animated action, how he drove his spear through the bodies of six of his enemies at once; the point at the same time killing a seventh, who would also have remained transfixed with his companions, if the spear could have held more than six men of an ordinary size upon it at a time. Il Cavalier d Anglante ove pui spesse Vide le genti e larme, abbasso lasta, Ed uno in quella, e poscia un altro messe E un altro, e un altro, che sembrar di pasta, E fino a sei ve ninfilz, e li resse Tutti una lancia; e perche ella non basta A piu Capir, lasci il settimo fuore Ferito si che di quel colpo muore. This stanza our declaimer had no occasion to comment upon, as Ariosto has thought fit to illustrate it in a manner which seemed highly to the taste of this audience. For, in the verse immediately following, Orlando is compared to a man killing frogs in marshy ground, with a bow and arrow made for that purpose; an amusement very common in Italy, and still more so in France. Non altrimente nell estrema arena Veggiam le rane de canali e fosse Dal cauto arcier ne i fianchi, e nella schiena Luna vicina all altera esser percosse, Ne dalla freccia, fin che tutta piena Non sia da un capo all altero esser rimosse. I must however do this audience the justice to acknowledge, that they seemed to feel the pathetic and sublime, as well as the ludicrous, parts of the ancient Bard. This practice of rehearsing the verses of Ariosto, Tasso, and other poets, in the street, I have not observed in any other town of Italy; and I am told it is less common here than it was formerly. I remember indeed, at Venice, to have frequently seen mountebanks, who gained their livelihood by amusing the populace at St. Marks Place, with wonderful and romantic stories in prose.Listen, Gentlemen, said one of them; let me crave your attention, ye beautiful and virtuous ladies; I have something equally affecting and wonderful to tell you; a strange and stupendous adventure, which happened to a gallant knight.Perceiving that this did not sufficiently interest the hearers, he exalted his voice, calling out that his Knight was uno Cavalliero Cristiano. The audience seemed still a little fluctuating. He raised his voice a note higher, telling them that this Christian Knight was one of their own victorious countrymen, un Eroe Veneziano. This fixed them; and he proceeded to relate how the Knight, going to join the Christian army, which was on its march to recover the Sepulchre of Christ from the hands of the Infidels, lost his way in a vast wood, and wandered at length to a castle, in which a lady of transcendent beauty was kept prisoner by a gigantic Saracen, who, having failed in all his endeavours to gain the heart of this peerless damsel, resolved to gratify his passion by force; and had actually begun the horrid attempt, when the shrieks of this chaste maiden reached the ears of the Venetian hero; who, ever ready to relieve virgins in distress, rushed into the apartment from whence the cries issued. The brutal ravisher, alarmed at the noise, quits the struggling lady, at the very instant when her strength began to fail; draws his flaming sword; and a dreadful combat begins between him and the Christian Knight, who performs miracles of courage and address in resisting the blows of this mighty giant; till, his foot unfortunately slipping in the blood which flowed on the pavement, he fell at the feet of the Saracen; who, immediately seizing the advantage which chance gave him, raised his sword with all his might, andHere the orators hat flew to the ground, open to receive the contributions of the listeners; and he continued repeating, raised his sword over the head of the Christian Knightraised his bloody, murderous brand, to destroy your noble, valiant countryman.But he proceeded no farther in his narrative, till all who seemed interested in it had thrown something into the hat. He then pocketed the money with great gravity, and went on to inform them, that, at this critical moment, the Lady, seeing the danger which threatened her deliverer, redoubled her prayers to the Blessed Mary, who, a virgin herself, is peculiarly attentive and propitious to the prayers of virgins. Just as the Saracens sword was descending on the head of the Venetian, a large bee flew, quick as thought, in at the window, stung the former very smartly on the left temple, diverted the blow, and gave the Christian Knight time to recover himself. The fight then recommenced with fresh fury; but, after the Virgin Mary had taken such a decided part, you may believe it was no match. The Infidel soon fell dead at the feet of the Believer. But who do you think this beauteous maiden was, on whose account the combat had begun? Why no other than the sister of the Venetian Hero.This young lady had been stolen from her fathers house, while she was yet a child, by an Armenian merchant, who dealt in no other goods than women. He concealed the child till he found means to carry her to Egypt; where he kept her in bondage, with other young girls, till the age of fifteen, and then sold her to the Saracen. I do not exactly remember whether the recognition between the brother and sister was made out by means of a mole on the young ladys neck, or by a bracelet on her arm, which, with some other of her mothers jewels, happened to be in her pocket when she was stolen; but, in whatever manner this came about, there was the greatest joy on the happy occasion; and the lady joined the army with her brother, and one of the Christian commanders fell in love with her, and their nuptials were solemnized at Jerusalem; and they returned to Venice, and had a very numerous family of the finest children you ever beheld. At Rome, those streetorators sometimes entertain their audience with interesting passages of real history. I remember having heard one, in particular, give a full and true account how the bloody heathen emperor Nero set fire to the city of Rome, and sat at a window of his golden palace, playing on a harp, while the town was in flames. After which the Historian proceeded to relate, how this unnatural emperor murdered his own mother; and he concluded by giving the audience the satisfaction of hearing a particular detail of all the ignominious circumstances attending the murderers own death. This business of streetoratory, while it amuses the populace, and keeps them from less innocent and more expensive pastimes, gives them at the same time some general ideas of history. Streetorators, therefore, are a more useful set of men than another class, of which there are numbers at Rome, who entertain companies with extemporaneous verses on any given subject. The last are called Improuvisatoris; and some people admire these performances greatly. For my own part, I am too poor a judge of the Italian language either to admire or condemn them; but, from the nature of the thing, I should imagine they are but indifferent. It is said, that the Italian is peculiarly calculated for poetry, and that verses may be made with more facility in this than in any other language. It may be more easy to find smooth lines, and make them terminate in rhime in Italian, than in any language; but to compose verses with all the qualities essential to good poetry, I imagine leisure and long reflection are requisite. Indeed I understand, from those who are judges, that those extempore compositions of the Improuvisatori are in general but mean productions, consisting of a few fulsome compliments to the company, and some commonplace observations, put into rhime, on the subject proposed. There is, however, a lady of an amiable character, Signora Corilla, whose extempore productions, which she repeats in the most graceful manner, are admired by people of real taste. While we were at Rome, this lady made an appearance one evening, at the assembly of the Arcadi, which charmed a very numerous company; and of which our friend Mr. Ry has given me such an account, as makes me regret that I was not present. After much entreaty, a subject being given, she began, accompanied by two violins, and sung her unpremeditated strains with great variety of thought and elegance of language. The whole of her performance lasted above an hour, with three or four pauses, of about five minutes each, which seemed necessary, more that she might recover her strength and voice, than for recollection; for that gentleman said, that nothing could have more the air of inspiration, or what we are told of the Pythian Prophetess. At her first setting out, her manner was sedate, or rather cold; but gradually becoming animated, her voice rose, her eyes sparkled, and the rapidity and beauty of her expressions and ideas seemed supernatural. She at last called on another member of the society to sing alternately with her, which he complied with; but Mr. Ry thought, though they were Arcades ambo, they were by no means cantare pares. Naples is celebrated for the finest opera in Europe. This however happens not to be the season of performing; but the common people enjoy their operas at all seasons. Little concerts of vocal and instrumental music are heard every evening in the Strada Nuova, the Chiaca, the Strada di Toledo, and other streets; and young men and women are seen dancing to the music of ambulatory performers all along this delightful bay. To a mere spectator, the amusements of the common people afford more delight, than those of the great; because they seem to be more enjoyed by the one class, than by the other. This is the case every where, except in France; where the high appear as happy as those of middle rank, and the rich are very near as merry as the poor. But, in most other countries, the people of great rank and fortune, though they flock to every kind of entertainment, from not knowing what to do with themselves, yet seem to enjoy them less than those of inferior rank and fortune. The English particularly are said to be in this predicament. This may be true in some degree; though I imagine there is more appearance than reality in it; owing to an absurd affectation of indifference, or what the French call nonchalance, which has prevailed of late years. A few insipid characters in high life, whose internal vacancy leads them to seek amusement in public places, and whose insensibility prevents them from finding it, have probably brought this appearance of a want of all enjoyment into fashion. Those who wish to be thought of what is called the ton, imitate the mawkish insipidity of their superiors in rank, and imagine it distinguishes them from the vulgar, to suppress all the natural expressions of pity, joy, or admiration, and to seem, upon all occasions, in a state of complete apathy. Those amiable creatures frequent public places, that it may be said of them, They are not as other men are. You will see them occasionally at the playhouse, placed in the boxes, like so many busts, with unchanging features; and, while the rest of the audience yield to the emotions excited by the poet and the actors, those men of the ton preserve the most dignified serenity of countenance; and, except that they from time to time pronounce the words Pshaw! and Stuff!one would think them the express representatives of the Pagan gods, who have eyes but do not see, and ears but do not hear. I know not what may be the case at the opera; but I can assure you there are none of those busts among the auditories which the streetperformers at Naples gather around them. I saw very lately a large cluster of men, women, and children, entertained to the highest degree, and to all appearance made exceedingly happy, by a poor fellow with a mask on his face, and a guitar in his hands. He assembled his audience by the songs he sung to the music of his instrument, and by a thousand merry stories he told them with infinite drollery. This assembly was in an open place, facing the bay, and near the palace. The old women sat listening, with their distaffs, spinning a kind of coarse flax, and wetting the thread with their spittle; their grandchildren sprawled at their feet, amused with the twirling of the spindle. The men and their wives, the youths and their mistresses, sat in a circle, with their eyes fixed on the musician, who kept them laughing for a great part of the evening with his stories, which he enlivened occasionally with tunes upon the guitar. At length, when the company was most numerous, and at the highest pitch of good humour, he suddenly pulled off his mask, laid down his guitar, and opened a little box which stood before him, and addressed the audience in the following words, as literally as I can translate them:Ladies and gentlemen, there is a time for all things; we have had enough of jesting; innocent mirth is excellent for the health of the body, but other things are requisite for the health of the soul. I will now, with your permission, my honourable masters and mistresses, entertain you with something serious, and of infinitely greater importance; something for which all of you will have reason to bless me as long as you live. Here he shook out of a bag a great number of little leaden crucifixes.I am just come from the Holy House of Loretto, my fellow christians, continued he, on purpose to furnish you with those jewels, more precious than all the gold of Peru, and all the pearls of the ocean. Now, my beloved brethren and sisters, you are afraid that I shall demand a price for those sacred crosses, far above your abilities, and something correspondent with their value, by way of indemnification for the fatigue and expence of the long journey which I have made on your account, all the way from the habitation of the Blessed Virgin to this thrice renowned city of Naples, the riches and liberality of whose inhabitants are celebrated all over the globe. No, my generous Neapolitans; I do not wish to take the advantage of your pious and liberal dispositions, I will not ask for those invaluable crucifixes (all of which, let me inform you, have touched the soot of the holy image of the Blessed Virgin, which was formed by the hands of St. Luke; and, moreover, each of them has been shaken in the Santissima Scodella, the sacred porringer in which the Virgin made the pap for the infant Jesus); I will not, I say, ask an ounce of gold, no not even a crown of silver; my regard for you is such, that I shall let you have them for a penny a piece. You must acknowledge, my friend, that this morsel of eloquence was a very great pennyworth; and when we recollect the sums that some of our acquaintance receive for their oratory, though they never could produce so pathetic a specimen, you will naturally conclude that eloquence is a much rarer commodity in England than in Italy. LETTER LXI. Naples. I have made two visits to Mount Vesuvius, the first in company with your acquaintance Mr. Nt. Leaving the carriage at Herculaneum, we mounted mules, and were attended by three men, whose business it is to accompany strangers up the mountain. Being arrived at a hermitage, called Il Salvatore, we found the road so broken and rough, that we thought proper to leave the mules at that place, which is inhabited by a French hermit. The poor man must have a very bad opinion of mankind, to choose the mouth of Mount Vesuvius for his nearest neighbour, in preference to their society. From the hermitage we walked over various fields of lava, which have burst out at different periods. These seemed to be perfectly well known to our guides, who mentioned their different dates as we passed. The latest appeared, before we left Rome, about two months ago; it was, however, but inconsiderable in comparison of other eruptions, there having been no bursting of the crater, or of the side of the mountain, as in the eruption of 1767, so well described by Sir William Hamilton; but only a boiling over of lava from the mouth of the volcano, and that not in excessive quantity; for it had done no damage to the vineyards or cultivated parts of the mountain, having reached no farther than the old black lava on which soil had not as yet been formed. I was surprised to see this lava of the last eruption still smoking, and in some places, where a considerable quantity was confined in a kind of deep path like a dry ditch, and shaded from the light of the Sun, it appeared of a glowing red colour. In other places, notwithstanding its being perfectly black and solid, it still retained such a degree of heat, that we could not stand upon it for any considerable time, but were obliged very frequently to step on the ground, or on older lava, to cool our feet. We had advanced a good way on a large piece of the latest lava, which was perfectly black and hard, and seemed cooler than the rest; while from this we looked at a stream of liquid lava, which flowed sluggishly along a hollow way at some distance. I accidentally threw my eyes below my feet, and perceived something, which mightily discomposed my contemplations. This was a small stream of the same matter, gliding to one side from beneath the black crust on which we stood. The idea of this crust giving way, and our sinking into the glowing liquid which it covered, made us shift our ground with great precipitation; which one of our guides observing, he called out, Animo, animo, Signori; and immediately jumped on the incrustation which we had abandoned, and danced above it, to shew that it was sufficiently strong, and that we had no reason to be afraid. We afterwards threw large stones of the heaviest kind we could find, into this rivulet, on whose surface they floated like cork in water; and on thrusting a stick into the stream, it required a considerable exertion of strength to make it enter. About this time the day began to overcast; this destroyed our hopes of enjoying the view from the top of the mountain, and we were not tempted to ascend any farther. Some time after, I went to the summit with another party;but I think it fair to inform you, that I have nothing new to say on the subject of volcanos, nor any philosophical remarks to make upon lavas. I have no guess of what time may be necessary for the formation of soil, nor do I know whether it accumulates in a regular progression, or is accelerated or retarded by various accidents, which may lead us into infinite errors, when we calculate time by such a rule. I have not the smallest wish to insinuate that the world is an hour older than Moses makes it; because I imagine those gentlemen whose calculations differ from his, are very nearly as liable to be mistaken as he was; because an attempt to prove it more ancient, can be no service to mankind; and finally, because, unless it could at the same time be proved that the world has acquired wisdom in proportion to its years, such an attempt conveys an oblique reflection on its character; for many follies may be overlooked and forgiven to a world of only five or six thousand years of age, which would be quite unpardonable at a more advanced period of existence. Having forewarned you that I shall treat of none of those matters, but simply describe what I saw, and mention perhaps a few incidents, none of which, I confess, are of great importance, I leave it in your choice to ascend the mountain with me, or not, as you please. Having proceeded on mules as far as on the former occasion, we walked to that part of the mountain which is almost perpendicular. This appears of no great height, yet those who have never before attempted this ascent, fatigue themselves here much more than during all the rest of the journey, notwithstanding their being assisted by laying hold of the belts which the guides wear about their waists for that purpose. This part of the mountain appearing much shorter than it really is, people are tempted to make a violent effort, in the expectation of surmounting the difficulty at once; but the cinders, ashes, and other drossy materials, giving way, the foot generally sinks back twothirds of each step; so that besides the height being greater than it appears, you have all the fatigue of ascending a hill three times as high as this is in reality. Those, therefore, who set out too briskly at first, and do not husband their strength at the beginning, have reason to repent their imprudence, being obliged to throw many a longing look, and make many a fruitless vow, before they, with the wretched guide who lugs them along, can arrive, panting and breathless, at the top; like those young men who, having wasted their vigour in early excesses, and brought on premature old age, link themselves to some illfated woman, who drags them, tormenting and tormented, to the grave. Those who wish to view Mount Vesuvius to the greatest advantage, must begin their expedition in the evening; and the darker the succeeding night happens to be, so much the better. By the time our company had arrived at the top of the mountain, there was hardly any other light than that which issued by interrupted flashes from the volcano. Exclusive of those periods when there are actual eruptions, the appearance and quantity of what issues from the mountain are very various; sometimes, for a long space of time together, it seems in a state of almost perfect tranquillity; nothing but a small quantity of smoke ascending from the volcano, as if that vast magazine of fuel, which has kept it alive for so many ages, was at last exhausted, and nothing remained but the dying embers; then, perhaps, when least expected, the cloud of smoke thickens, and is intermixed with flame; at other times, quantities of pumice stone and ashes are thrown up with a kind of hissing noise. For near a week the mountain has been more turbulent than at any time since the small eruption, or rather boiling over of lava, which took place about two months ago; and while we remained at the top, the explosions were of sufficient importance to satisfy our curiosity to the utmost. They appeared much more considerable there than we had imagined while at a greater distance; each of them was preceded by a noise like thunder within the mountain; a column of thick black smoke then issued out with great rapidity, followed by a blaze of flame; and immediately after, a shower of cinders and ashes, or red hot stones, were thrown into the sky. This was succeeded by a calm of a few minutes, during which nothing issued but a moderate quantity of smoke and flame, which gradually increased, and terminated in thunder and explosion as before. These accesses and intervals continued with varied force while we remained. When we first arrived, our guides placed us at a reasonable distance from the mouth of the volcano, and on the side from which the wind came, so that we were no way incommoded by the smoke. In this situation the wind also bore to the opposite side the cinders, ashes, and other fiery substances, which were thrown up; and we ran no danger of being hurt, except when the explosion was very violent, and when red hot stones, and such heavy substances, were thrown like skyrockets, with a great noise and prodigious force, into the air; and even these make such a flaming appearance, and take so much time in descending, that they are easily avoided. Mr. Brydone, in his admirable account of Mount tna, tells us, he was informed, that, in an eruption of that mountain, large rocks of fire were discharged, with a noise much more terrible than that of thunder; that the person who informed him, reckoned from the time of their greatest elevation till they reached the ground, and found they took twentyone seconds to descend; from whence he concludes their elevation had been seven thousand feet. This unquestionably required a power of projection far superior to what Vesuvius has been known to exert. He himself measured the height of the explosions of the latter by the same rule; and the stones thrown the highest, never took above nine seconds to descend; which, by the same method of calculating, shews they had risen to little more than twelve hundred feet.A pretty tolerable height, and might have satisfied the ambition of Vesuvius, if the stones of tna had not been said to have mounted so much higher. But before such an excessive superiority is granted to the latter, those who are acquainted with Mr. Brydone will recollect, that they have his own authority for the one fact, and that of another person for the other. After having remained some time at the place where they were posted by the guides, our company grew bolder, as they became more familiarised to the object. Some made the circuit of the volcano, and by that means increased the risque of being wounded by the stones thrown out. Your young friend Jack was a good deal hurt by a fall, as he ran to avoid a large portion of some fiery substance, which seemed to be falling directly on his head. Considering the rash and frolicsome disposition of some who visit this mountain, it is very remarkable that so few fatal accidents happen. I have heard of young English gentlemen betting, who should venture farthest, or remain longest, near the mouth of the Volcano. A very dreadful event had nearly taken place while our company remained. The bank, if it may be so called, on which some of them had stood when they looked into the Volcano, actually fell in before we left the summit of the mountain. This made an impression on all present, and inclined them to abandon so treacherous a neighbourhood. The steep hill of dross and cinders, which we had found it so difficult to ascend, we descended in a twinkling; but, as the night was uncommonly dark, we had much trouble in passing over the rough valley between that and the Hermitage, near which the mules waited. I ought to be ashamed, however, to mention the fatigue of this expedition; for two ladies, natives of Geneva, formed part of the company. One of them, big with child, accompanied her husband as far as the Hermitage, and was then with difficulty persuaded to go back; the other actually went to the summit, and returned with the rest of the company. Before we set out for Naples, we were refreshed, at a little inn at the bottom of the mountain, with some glasses of a very generous and palatable wine, called Lachrima Christi; and experienced the truth of what an Italian Poet observed, that the effects of this wine form a strong contrast with its name: Chi fu, de Contadini il pi indiscreto, Che  sbigottir la gente, Diede nome dolente, Al vin, che sopra ogn altro il cuor f lieto? Lachrima dunque appellarassi un riso, Parto di nobilissima vindemia. LETTER LXII. Naples. Your account of our Friends state of health gives me much concern; the more, as I cannot approve the change he has made of a physician. You say, the doctor, under whose care he is at present, has employed his mind so entirely in medical researches, that he scarcely displays a grain of common sense, when the conversation turns on any other subject; and that, although he seems opinionative, vain, and ostentatious in his profession, and full of false and absurd ideas in the common affairs of life, yet he is a very able physician, and has performed many wonderful cures. Be assured, my dear Sir, that this is impossible; for medical skill is not like the rod of an inchanter, which may be found accidentally, and which transfers its miraculous powers indiscriminately to a blockhead or a man of sense. The number of weak, gossipping men, who have made fortunes by this profession, do not prove the contrary. I do not say that men of that kind cannot make fortunes; I only assert they are not the most likely to cure diseases. An interest with apothecaries, nurses, and a few talkative old ladies, will enable them to do the first; but a clear understanding, and a considerable share of natural sagacity, are qualities essentially necessary for the second, and for every business which requires reflection. Without these, false inferences will be drawn from experience itself; and learning will tend to confirm a man in his errors, and to render him more completely a coxcomb. The profession of physic is that, of all others, in which the generality of mankind have the fewest lights, by which they can discern the abilities of its professors; because the studies which lead to it are more out of the road of usual education, and the practice more enveloped in technical terms and hieroglyphical signs. But I imagine the safest criterion by which men, who have not been bred to that profession, can form a judgment of those who have, is, the degree of sagacity and penetration they discover on subjects equally open to mankind in general, and which ought to be understood by all who live in society. You do not mention particularly what has been prescribed by either; only that the former physician seemed to rely almost entirely on exercise and regimen, whereas the present flatters our friend with a speedy cure, by the help of the Pectoral and Balsamic medicines which he orders in such abundance, and which he declares are so efficacious in pulmonary consumptions. Having lamented with you the mournful events which render the name of that disease peculiarly alarming to you, and knowing your friendly solicitude about Mr. , I do not wonder at your earnest desire to know something of the nature of a distemper with which he is threatened, and which has proved fatal to so many of our friends. But I am surprised that you have not chosen a more enlightened instructor, when you have so many around you. Though conscious that I have no just claim to all the obliging expressions which your partiality to my opinions has prompted you to make use of, yet I am too much flattered by some of them, to refuse complying with your request. My sentiments, such as they are, will at least have the merit of being clearly understood. I shall observe your prohibition, not to refer you to any medical book; and shall carefully avoid all technical terms, which you so much abominate. With regard to your shewing my Letter to any of the faculty; if you find yourself so inclined, I have not the smallest objection; for those who have the greatest knowledge in their profession, are best acquainted with its uncertainty, and most indulgent to the mistakes or errors of others. Alas, my friend! how is it possible that physicians should avoid mistakes? If the ablest mechanic were to attempt to remedy the irregular movements of a watch, while he remained ignorant of the structure and manner of acting of some of the principal springs, would he not be in danger of doing harm instead of good? Physicians are in the situation of such a mechanic; for, although it is evident that the nerves are the organs of motion and sensation, yet their structure is not known. Some anatomists assert they are impervious cords; others, that they are slender tubes, containing a fluid. But what the nature of this fluid is; whether it serves only to nourish the nerves themselves, or is the medium by which they convey feeling and the power of motion to other parts, is not ascertained even by those who argue for its existence; far less is it explained in what manner ideas, formed within the brain, can, by the means of solid cords, or by a fluid contained in tubes, communicate motion at pleasure to the legs and arms. We are ignorant why the will, which has no influence over the motion of an animals heart, should find the feet obedient to her dictates; and we can no more explain how a man can move one leg over the other by volition, or the mere act of willing, than how he could, by the same means, move Ossa on the top of Olympus. The one happens every moment, the other would be considered as a miracle; but they are equally unaccountable. While parts so infinitely essential to life are not understood, instead of being surprised that so many diseases baffle the skill of the physician, we have more reason to be astonished that any can be alleviated or cured by his art. The pen of the satirist, no doubt, may be fairly aimed against the presumption and ignorance of many individuals of this, as of every other profession; but cannot with justice be directed against the art itself: since, in spite of the obscurity which still involves some parts of the animal economy, many disorders are relieved, and some of the severest and most disagreeable to which the human body is liable, are cured with certainty by the art of medicine. Unfortunately for mankind, and in a particular manner for the inhabitants of Great Britain, the pulmonary consumption is not of the number. This disease may originate from various causes: 1st. An external bruise or wound. 2d. The disease called pleurisy, including in that term an inflammation of the lungs themselves, as well as the membrane which covers them. 3d. The bursting of some of the bloodvessels of the lungs, independent of external injury, and owing to a faulty conformation of the chest, and the slenderness of the vessels. 4th. Certain small tumours, called tubercles, in the lungs. The first cause I have mentioned is an external bruise or wound. An accident of that kind happening to the lungs, is more dangerous and difficult to cure, than when the same takes place in most other parts of the body; because the lungs are vital organs, essentially necessary to life, and when their motion is impaired, other animal functions are thereby injured; because they are of an uncommonly delicate texture, in which a rupture having once taken place, will be apt to increase; because they are in constant motion and exposed to the access of external air, both of which circumstances are unfavourable to the healing of wounds, and because the mass of blood distributed to the whole body passes previously through the lungs, and consequently the bloodvessels of this organ are more numerous than those of any other part of the body. When we consider these peculiarities, it is natural to conclude, that every wound of the lungs must necessarily prove mortal; but experience has taught the contrary. Many wounds of the lungs heal of themselves, by what is called, the first intention. The physician may prevent a fever, by ordering the patient to lose blood in proper quantities, and he may regulate the diet; but the cure must be left to nature, which she will perform with greater certainty, if she is not disturbed by any of those balsams which the wounded are sometimes directed to swallow on such occasions. But when the wound, either from injudicious treatment, or from its size, or from the bad habit of the patient, degenerates into an ulcer attended with hectic symptoms, the disease must be treated as if it had arisen from any of the other causes. The pleurisy, or inflammation of the lungs, is a disease more frequent in cold countries than in mild; in the spring than in the other seasons; and more apt to seize people of a sanguine constitution than others. Plentiful and repeated bleedings, fomentations, blisters near the affected part, and a cooling, diluting regimen, generally remove it, without its leaving any bad consequence. Sometimes, by the omission of bleeding in due quantity at the beginning, and sometimes in spite of all possible care, it terminates in an abscess, which, on bursting, may suffocate the patient; or, if the matter is coughed up, becomes an open ulcer, and produces the disease in question. The third cause of the pulmonary consumption above mentioned, is, a spitting of blood, from the bursting of vessels of the lungs, independent of external wound or bruise. People of a fair complexion, delicate skin, slender make, long neck, and narrow chest, are more subject to this than others. Those who have a predisposition to this complaint, by their form, are most apt to be attacked after their full growth: women from fifteen to threeandthirty; men two or three years later. In Great Britain, a spitting of blood generally occurs to those predisposed to it, in the spring, or beginning of summer, when the weather suddenly changes from cold to excessive hot; and when the heat is supposed to rarify the blood, before the solids are proportionably relaxed from the contracted state they acquire during the cold of winter. When a spitting of blood happens to a person who has actually lost brothers or sisters, or other near relations, by the pulmonary consumption, as that circumstance gives reason to suspect a family taint or predisposition, the case will, on that account, be more dangerous. Violent exercise may occasion the rupture of bloodvessels in the lungs, even in those who have no hereditary disposition to such an accident; it ought therefore to be carefully avoided by all who have. Violent exercise, in the spring, is more dangerous than in other seasons; and, when taken at the top of high mountains, by those who do not usually reside there, it has been considered as more dangerous than in vallies. The sudden diminution of the weight of the atmosphere, cooperating with the exercise, renders the vessels more apt to break. Of all things the most pernicious to people predisposed to a spitting of blood, is, playing upon windinstruments. Previous to the spitting of blood, some perceive an uneasiness in the chest, an oppression on the breath, and a saltish taste in the spittle; but these symptoms are not constant. Nothing can be more insidious than the approaches of this disease sometimes are. The substance of the lungs, which is so full of bloodvessels, is not supplied so liberally with nerves; the lungs, therefore, may be materially affected, before danger is indicated by acute pain. And it sometimes happens, that people of the make above described are, in the bloom of life, and generally in the spring of the year, seized with a slight cough, which gradually increases, without pain, soreness in the breast, difficulty of respiration, or spitting of blood. A slow fever supervenes every night, which remits every morning, with sweats. These symptoms augment daily; and, in spite of early attention, and what is thought the best advice, the unsuspecting victims gradually sink into their graves. Those who by their make, or by the disease having in former instances appeared in their family, are predisposed to this complaint, ought to be peculiarly attentive in the article of diet. A spare and cooling regimen is the best. They should avoid violent exercise, and every other exciting cause; and use the precaution of losing blood in the spring. If their circumstances permit, they ought to pass the cold months in a mild climate; but, if they are obliged to remain during the winter in Great Britain, let them wear flannel next the skin, and use every other precaution against catching colds. The fourth cause above enumerated is, tubercles in the lungs. The moist, soggy, and changeable weather, which prevails in Great Britain, renders its inhabitants more liable, than those of milder and more uniform climates, to catarrhs, rheumatisms, pleurisies, and other diseases proceeding from obstructed perspiration. The same cause subjects the inhabitants of Great Britain to obstructions of the glands, scrophulous complaints, and tubercles in the substance of the lungs. The scrophulous disease is more frequent than is generally imagined. For one person in whom it appears by swellings in the glands below the chin, and other external marks, many have the internal glands affected by it. This is well known to those who are accustomed to open dead bodies. On examining the bodies of such as have died of the pulmonary consumption, besides the open ulcers in the lungs, many little hard tumours or tubercles are generally found; some, with matter; others, on being cut open, discover a little blueish spot, of the size of a small lead shot. Here the suppuration, or formation of matter, is just going to begin; and in some the tubercle is perfectly hard, and the colour whitish, throughout its whole substance. Tubercles may remain for a considerable time in the lungs, in this indolent state, without much inconveniency; but, when excited to inflammation by frequent catarrhs, or other irritating causes, matter is formed, they break, and produce an ulcer. Care and attention may prevent tubercles from inflammation, or may prevent that from terminating in the formation of matter; but when matter is actually formed, and the tubercle has become an abscess, no remedy can stop its progress. It must go on till it bursts. If this happens near any of the large airvessels, immediate suffocation may ensue; but, for the most part, the matter is coughed up. From the circumstances above enumerated of the delicate texture, constant motion, and numerous bloodvessels of the lungs, it is natural to imagine, that a breach of this nature in their substance will be still more difficult to heal than a wound from an external cause. So unquestionably it is; yet there are many instances of even this kind of breach being repaired; the matter expectorated diminishing in quantity every day, and the ulcer gradually healing; not, surely, by the power of medicine, but by the constant disposition and tendency which exists in nature, by inscrutable means of her own, to restore health to the human body. It may be proper to observe, that those persons whose formation of body renders them most liable to a spitting of blood, have also a greater predisposition than others to tubercles in the lungs. The disease, called the spasmodic asthma, has been reckoned among the causes of the pulmonary consumption. It would require a much greater degree of confidence in a mans own judgment, than I have in mine, to assert, that this complaint has no tendency to produce tubercles in the lungs; but I may say, with truth, that I have often known the spasmodic asthma, in the most violent degree, attended with the most alarming symptoms, continue to harass the patients for a long period of time, and at length suddenly disappear, without ever returning; the persons who have been thus afflicted, enjoying perfect health for many years after. It is not probable that tubercles were formed in any of these cases; and it is certain they were not in some, whose bodies were opened after their deaths, which happened from other distempers, the asthma having disappeared several years before. Certain eruptions of the skin, attended with fever, particularly the smallpox, and still oftener the measles, leave after them a foundation for the pulmonary consumption. From whichever of the causes above enumerated this disease takes its origin, when once an ulcer, attended with a hectic fever, is formed in the lungs, the case is, in the highest degree, dangerous. When it ends fatally, the symptoms are, a quick pulse, and a sensation of cold, while the patients skin, to the feeling of every other person, is hot; irregular shiverings, a severe cough, expectoration of matter streaked with blood, morning sweats, a circumscribed spot of a crimson colour on the cheeks, heat of the palms of the hands, excessive emaciation, crooking of the nails, swelling of the legs, giddiness, delirium, soon followed by death. These symptoms do not appear in every case. Although the emaciation is greater in this disease than in any other, yet the appetite frequently remains strong and unimpaired to the last; and although delirium sometimes comes before death, yet in many cases the senses seem perfect and intire; except in one particular, that in spite of all the foregoing symptoms, the patient often entertains the fullest hopes of recovery to the last moment. Would to heaven it were as easy to point out the cure, as to describe the symptoms of a disease of such a formidable nature, and against which the powers of medicine have been directed with such bad success, that there is reason to fear, its fatal termination has been oftener accelerated than retarded by the means employed to remove it! To particularise the drugs which have been long in use, and have been honoured with the highest encomiums for their great efficacy in healing inward bruises, ulcers of the lungs, and confirmed consumptions, would in many instances be pointing out, what ought to be shunned as pernicious, and in others what ought to be neglected as futile. Salt water, and some of the mineral springs, which are unquestionably beneficial in scrophulous and other distempers, have been found hurtful, or at least inefficacious, in the consumption; there is no sufficient reason to depend on a course of these, or any medicine at present known, for preventing or dissolving tubercles in the lungs. Mercury, which has been found so powerful in disposing other ulcers to heal, has no good effect on ulcers of that organ;though some physicians imagine it may be of service in the beginning to dissolve tubercles, before they begin to suppurate; but as there is no absolute evidence, during life, of indolent tubercles being formed, there can be none that mercury cures them. Various kinds of gums, with the natural and artificial balsams, were long supposed to promote the healing of external wounds and ulcers, and on that account were made the basis of a vast variety of ointments and plaisters. It was afterwards imagined, that the same remedies, administered internally, would have the same effect on internal ulcers; and of course many of those gums and balsams were prescribed in various forms for the pulmonary consumption. The reasoning on which this practice was established, however, seems a little shallow, and is far from being conclusive; for although it were granted, that these balsams contributed to the cure of wounds, when applied directly to the part, it does not follow that they could carry their healing powers, unimpaired, from the stomach to the lungs, through the whole process of digestion. But more accurate surgery having made it manifest, that the granulations which spring up to supply the loss of substance in external wounds, and the healing or skinning over of all kinds of sores, proceeds from no active virtue in the plaisters or ointments with which they are dressed, but is entirely the work of nature, and best performed when the mildest substances, or even dry lint only is applied; and that heating gums, resins, and balsams, rather retard than promote their cure; the internal use of such remedies ought to be rejected now, on the same principles they were adapted formerly. No kind of reasoning ought to have weight, when opposed by fair experience. But physicians have formed contrary and opposite conclusions, with respect to the effect of the natural and artificial balsams, even when they have laid all theory and reasoning aside, and decided on their powers from practice and experiment only. This is sufficient to prove, at least, that their efficacy is very problematical. For my own part, after the fairest trials, and the most accurate observations I have been able to make, I cannot say that I ever knew them of service in any hectic complaint proceeding from an ulcer in the lungs; and I have generally found those physicians, on whose judgment I have more reliance than on my own, of the same opinion. It is far from being uncommon to see a cure retarded, not to say any thing stronger, by the means employed to hasten it; and physicians who found their practice on theoretical reasonings, are not the only persons to whom this misfortune may happen. Those who profess to take experience for their sole guide, if it is not directed by candour, and enlightened by natural sagacity, are liable to the same. A man may, for twenty years, order a medicine, which has in every instance done a little harm, though not always so much as to prevent nature from removing the complaint at last; and if the reputation of this medicine should ever be attacked, he may bring his twenty years experience in support of it. It ought to be remembered, that as often as the animal constitution is put out of order, by accident or distemper, nature endeavours to restore health. Happily she has many resources, and various methods of accomplishing her purpose; and very often she succeeds best without medical assistance. But medical assistance being given, she frequently succeeds notwithstanding; and it sometimes happens, that both physician and patient are convinced, that the means which did not prevent have actually performed the cure. A peasant is seized with a shivering, followed by feverishness, and accompanied with a slight coughhe goes to bed, and excessive heat and thirst prompt him to drink plentifully of plain water; on the second or third day a copious sweat bursts from all his pores, and terminates the disorder. A person of fortune is seized with the same symptoms, arising from the same cause, and which would have been cured by the same means, in the same space of time; but the apothecary is called, who immediately sends pectoral linctuses to remove the cough, and afterwards gives a vomit, to remove the nausea which the linctuses have occasioned: the heat and fever augment; the physician is called; he orders the patient to be blooded, to abate the violence of the fever, and gives a little physic on some other account. All this prevents the natural crisis by sweat; and the patient being farther teased by draughts or powders every two or three hours, nature cannot shake off the fever so soon by six or seven days, as she would have done had she been left to herself. She generally does her business at last, however; and then the physician and apothecary glory in the happy effects of their skill, and receive the grateful thanks of their patient for having cured him of a dangerous fever. Every body of common penetration, at all conversant in medical matters, must have seen enough to convince them that the above description is not exaggerated; but it is not to be inferred from this, that the art of medicine is of no use to mankind. There are many diseases in which nature sinks, without medical assistance. It is the part of the penetrating and experienced physician to distinguish these from others, and leave it to the knavish and weak to assume the merit of cures in cases where they know, or ought to know, that medicine can do nothing. Some physicians, who have abandoned the other resins and gums, as useless or hurtful in hectic complaints, still adhere to myrrh as a beneficial medicine; but from what I can learn, the cases in which this gum has been thought serviceable, are hectic complaints, from debility, in consequence of excessive evacuations of various kinds, and not proceeding from ulcerated lungs. After it is fully established that myrrh is of use in such instances, it will still be worthy of investigation, whether it is of more or less than Jesuits bark. I have repeatedly mentioned bloodletting, and a spare, diluting regimen, as the most powerful means of preventing and curing all affections of the lungs that depend on inflammation. In the case of external wounds, or bruises of the lungs, this method facilitates the immediate cure by the first intention. It is the chief thing to be depended on for the cure of pleurisies; and it is often owing to a neglect, or too sparing an use of this evacuation, that the complaint terminates in an abscess. In people predisposed by the form of their bodies, or the nature of their constitutions, to a spitting of blood, it may prevent the turgid vessels from bursting; and in those who have tubercles in the lungs, it is of the greatest utility, by preventing those tumours from inflaming, and becoming ulcers; but after the ulcers are actually formed, I have great doubts with regard to the propriety of attempting a cure by repeated bleedings, even in small quantities. This method has been often tried; but I fear the success with which it has been attended, gives no encouragement to continue the practice. That symptoms may be such, in every period of this disease, as to require this evacuation, is not to be denied; but there is a great difference in the application of what is considered as an occasional palliative, and that from which we expect a radical cure. In the one case, it will only be used when some particular symptom strongly urges; in the other, it will be used at stated intervals, whether the symptoms press or not; and may tend to weaken the already debilitated patient, without our having the consolation of knowing, with certainty, that it has had any other effect. Blisters do not weaken so much; they are of undoubted use in pleurisies; perhaps, by exciting external inflammation, they may contribute to draw off the inflammatory disposition within the breast: perhapsBut in whatever way they act, I imagine I have frequently seen blisters and setons, particularly the latter, of considerable service, even after the symptoms indicated the existence of an ulcer in the lungs. As for the numerous forms of electuaries, lohochs, and linctuses, composed of oils, gums, and syrups, and by the courtesy of dispensatory writers called pectoral; I am convinced they are of no manner of service in this complaint, and seldom have any other effect than that of loading the stomach, and impairing the digestion of salutary food. So far from being of any permanent service to the disease, they cannot be depended on for giving even a temporary relief to the cough; when that symptom becomes troublesome, gentle opiates will be found the best palliatives. Some practitioners object to these medicines, on a supposition that they check expectoration; but they only seem to have this effect, by lulling the irritation to cough; the same quantity will be expectorated in the morning, after the influence of the opiate is over. It is surely better that the matter should accumulate, and the patient spit it up at once, than allow him to be kept from rest, and teased with coughing and spitting through the whole night. These palliatives, however, are to be managed with great caution; never exhibited while the patient enjoys a tolerable share of natural rest. Small doses should be given at first, and not increased without absolute necessity. Exhibited in this manner, they cannot do harm; and those who reject the assistance of a class of medicines, which afford ease and tranquillity in the most deplorable state of this disease, ought to give better proofs than have hitherto appeared, that they are able to procure their patients more valuable and lasting comforts than those they deprive them of. The known efficacy of the Peruvian bark, in many distempers, especially in intermittent fevers; the remission of the symptoms, which happens regularly every day at a particular stage of the pulmonary consumption, and in some degree gives it the appearance of an intermittent, joined to the failure of all other remedies, prompted physicians to make trial of that noble medicine in this disease. In consequence of these trials, the bark is now pretty generally acknowledged to be serviceable in hectical complaints, proceeding from debility, and other causes, exclusive of ulcerated lungs; but when the disease proceeds from this cause, the bark is supposed, by some very respectable physicians, always to do harm. I am most clearly of the first opinion, and perhaps it would not become me to dispute the second. It may be permitted, however, to observe, that the most discerning practitioners may be led into a notion, that a very safe medicine does harm, when it is exhibited at the worst stage of a disease, in which hardly any medicine whatever has been found to do good. In every stage of this disease, elixir of vitriol may be used. It is a pleasant and safe medicine, but particularly efficacious when the patient is troubled with wasting sweats. Having, in obedience to your request, delivered my sentiments freely, you will perceive, that, besides the objections already mentioned to the person under whose care our friend is at present, I cannot approve of his being directed to take so many drugs, or of his being detained in town, at a season when he may enjoy, in the country, what is preferable to all medicine; I mean air, exercise, and, let me even add, diet. Had I known of our friends complaints earlier, I should have advised him to have met the advancing spring in the South of France; but at the season in which you will receive this letter, the moderate warmth, and refreshing verdure of England, are preferable to the sultry heats and scorched fields of the South. From the view I have of his complaints, I can have no hesitation in advising you to endeavour to prevail on him to quit his drugs, and to leave London without delay. Since he bears riding on horseback so well, let him enjoy that exercise in an atmosphere freed from the smoke of the town, and impregnated with the flavour of rising plants and green herbage; a flavour which may with more truth be called pectoral, than any of the heating resins, or loathsome oils, on which that term has been prostituted. Let him pass the summer in drinking the waters, and riding around the environs of Bristol. It will be easy for him to find a house in the free air of the country, at some distance from that town; and it will be of use to have an additional reason for rising early, and riding every morning. It is of the greatest importance that he continue that exercise every day that the weather will permit: a little cloudiness of the sky should not fright him from it; there is no danger of catching cold during the continuation of that movement which assists digestion, promotes the determination of blood from the lungs to the surface of the body, and is more salutary in the morning than after dinner. With respect to diet, he should carefully observe the important rule of taking food frequently, in small quantities, and never making a full meal; that the digestive organs may not be overpowered, or the vessels charged with too large a quantity of chyle at a time; which never fails to bring on oppressive breathing, and augments the fever and flushing, which in some degree succeeds every repast. Since all kinds of milk are found to disagree with his constitution, that nourishment, which is in general so well adapted to similar complaints, must be omitted, and light broths, with vegetable food, particularly of the farinaceous kind, substituted in its place. Acids, especially the native acid of vegetables, are remarkably agreeable and refreshing to all who labour under the heat, oppression, and languor, which accompany hectic complaints. It is surprising what a quantity of the juice of lemons the constitution will bear, without any inconveniency, when it is accustomed to it by degrees; and in those cases where it does not occasion pains in the stomach and bowels, or other immediate inconveniencies, it has been thought to have a good effect in abating the force of the hectic fever. I have met with two cases, since I have been last abroad, in both of which there seemed to be a quicker recovery than I ever saw, from the same symptoms. The first was that of a young lady, of about seventeen years of age, and apparently of a very healthy constitution. In bad weather, during the spring, she caught cold: this being neglected in the beginning, gradually grew worse. When physicians were at length consulted, their prescriptions seemed to have as bad an effect as her own neglect. By the middle of summer her cough was incessant, accompanied with hectic fever and flushings, irregular shiverings, morning sweats, emaciation, expectoration of purulent phlegm streaked with blood, and every indication of an open ulcer in the lungs. In this desperate state she was carried from the town to a finely situated village in Switzerland, where, for several months, she lived in the middle of a vineyard, on ripe grapes and bread. She had been directed to a milk and vegetable diet in general. Her own taste inclined her to the grapes, which she continued, on finding, that, with this diet only, she was less languid, and of a more natural coolness, and that the cough, fever, and all the other symptoms gradually abated. She seemed to be brought from the jaws of death by the change of air, and this regimen only; and she returned to her own home in high spirits, and with the look and vigour of health. The ensuing winter, after being heated with dancing at the house of a friend, she walked home in a cold night; the cough, spitting of blood, and other symptoms immediately returned, and she died three months after. In the other case, there was not such a degree of fever, but there was an expectoration of matter, frequently streaked with blood, and evident signs of an ulcer in the lungs. The person who laboured under these symptoms, had tried the usual remedies of pectorals, pills, linctuses, c. with the usual success. He grew daily worse. He had formerly found much relief from bleeding, but had left it off for many months, on a supposition that it had lost all effect; and he had allowed an issue to be healed, on the same supposition; though he still persevered in a milk regimen. I mentioned to him the case of the young lady, as it is above recited. He immediately took the resolution to confine himself to bread and grapes for almost his only food. I advised him at the same time to have the issue opened, and to continue that drain for some time; but this he did not comply with. He forsook, however, the town for the country, and passed as much of the morning on horseback, as he could bear without fatigue. He soon was able to bear more; and after about three weeks or a month, his cough had greatly abated. When he had persisted in this regimen between two and three months, he had very little cough; and what he spit up was pure phlegm, unmixed with blood or matter. He has now been well above a year; and although I understand that he occasionally takes animal food, he has hitherto felt no inconveniency from it. He passed the second autumn, as he had done the first, at a house in the country, surrounded with vineyards. The greater part of his food consisted of ripe grapes and bread. With such a diet, he had not occasion for much drink of any kind; what he used was simple water, and he made an ample provision of grapes for the succeeding winter. Though I have no idea that there is any specific virtue in grapes, for the cure of the pulmonary consumption, or that they are greatly preferable to some other cooling, subacid, mild fruit, equally agreeable to the taste, provided any such can be found; yet I thought it right to particularize what was used on those two occasions; leaving it to others to determine, what share of the happy consequences I have enumerated were owing to the change of air, how much may have flowed from the exercise, how much from the regimen, and whether there is reason to think, that the favourable turn in both cases depended on other circumstances, unobserved by me. I have now, my dear Sir, complied with your request; and although I have endeavoured to avoid technical verbosity, and all unnecessary detail, yet I find my letter has swelled to a greater size than I expected. I shall be exceedingly happy to hear that any hint I have given has been serviceable to our friend. If the cough should still continue, after he has passed two or three months at Bristol, I imagine the most effectual thing he can do will be, to take a voyage to this place; he will by that means escape the severity of a British winter. The voyage itself will be of service, and at the end of it he will have the benefit of the mild air of the Campagna Felice, be refreshed and nourished by the finest grapes, and, when tired of riding, he will have continual opportunities of sailing in this charming bay. LETTER LXIII. Naples. As I was walking a few days since in the street with two of our countrymen, T and N, we met some people carrying the corpse of a man on an open bier, and others following in a kind of procession. The deceased was a tradesman, whose widow had bestowed the utmost attention in dressing him to the greatest advantage on this solemn occasion; he had a perfectly new suit of clothes, a laced hat upon his head, ruffles, his hair finely powdered, and a large blooming nosegay in his left hand, while the right was very gracefully stuck in his side. It is the custom at Naples to carry every body to church in full dress soon after their death, and the nearest relations display the magnitude of their grief by the magnificent manner in which they decorate the corpse. This poor woman, it seems, was quite inconsolable, and had ornamented the body of her late husband with a profusion she could ill afford. When the corpse arrives in church, the service is read over it. That ceremony being performed, and the body carried home, it is considered as having no farther occasion for fine clothes, but is generally stript to the shirt, and buried privately. Can any thing be more ridiculous, says N, than to trick a man out in his bed clothes after his death? Nothing, replied T; unless it be to order a fantastical dress at a greater expence on purpose, as if the dead would not be satisfied with the clothes they wore when alive, but delighted in long flowing robes in a particular style of their own. T has long resided abroad, and now prefers many foreign customs to those of his own country, which frequently involves him in disputes with his countrymen. The Princess of  drove past. There she goes, says N, with her cavalieros, her volantis, and all the splendour of a sovereign; yet the wife of a plain English gentleman is in a far more enviable situation. With all her titles and her high rank, she is a meer servant of the Queens, a dependant on the caprice of another; a frown from her Majesty would annihilate her. Those who are nothing, exclusive of court favour, replied T, ought not be censured for devoting their time to court attendance. But did you never hear of any who are dazzled with the glitter of court shackels in the boasted land of liberty; people whom riches, rank, and the most flattering favours of fortune cannot make independent; whose minds seem the more abject, as their situation lays them under the less necessity of remaining in servitude; who, withered with age, and repining with envy, sacrifice every domestic duty, and stalk around the mansions of royalty, as ghosts are said to haunt those abodes in which they most delighted when they enjoyed life and vigour? Well, well, says N, let us say no more about them, since we are agreed, that, of all the old tapestry of courts, those grotesque figures, who, without the confidence of those they serve, continue to the last exhibiting their antique countenances at birthday balls, and in the assemblies of youth and beauty, are the most ridiculous. At that instant the Queen passed in her coach with the royal children, and N made some comparative remarks in his usual style; to which T replied, In this particular I acknowledge the happiness of Great Britain. I presume not to make comparisons; the great character you have mentioned defies censure, and is far superior to my praise. But I must observe, it appears singular that you, who affect to despise all other countries, and seem of opinion, that what is most valuable in nature is always the product of England, should bring your brightest illustration of that opinion from Germany. T, perceiving the advantage he had gained over his antagonist, proceeded vigorously to censure, what he called, the absurd partiality of the English in their own favour; and observed, that it would be fortunate for them, if the other nations of Europe would allow them but a few of the numerous good qualities which they so lavishly attribute to themselves. He severely attacked the common people, and denied them even the character of goodnature, which they have been thought to possess in an eminent degree. He declared them to be rough and insolent in their manners (for the truth of this he appealed to the opinion of all their neighbours), cruel in their dispositions (as a proof of which he instanced some of their favourite diversions), and absurd in their prejudices, which appears by their hatred and contempt of other nations; by all of whom, he asserted, they were in return most cordially abhorred. How, indeed, can it be otherwise, continued he, considering the rough, boisterous nature of their weather? He then expatiated on the fertility of Italy, and the mild serenity of the climate; to which he partly attributed the fertile genius and mild character of the Italians. No doubt, he said, moral causes might contribute to the same effect; for more pains were taken to cultivate and encourage good and quiet dispositions in the common people here than in England. They were accustomed to perform their religious duties more regularly; they had frequent opportunities of hearing the most excellent music in the churches; they were instructed in history by orators in the street, and were made acquainted with the beauties of their best poets in the same manner. All these causes united must necessarily enlarge their minds, and make them the most gentle, humane, and ingenious people in the world. N shook his head, as if he laid little stress on the others reasoning. For my own part, I remained silent, being desirous that the dispute should go on between the two who had begun it. Continuing our walk a little without the town, we saw a crowd of people looking over a wall, which formed one side of a square, expressly built for the purpose of bating cattle with bull dogs. It is imagined that this renders their flesh more tender and agreeable to the taste; and this is considered as a sufficient reason for torturing great numbers of bulls, oxen, and cows, before they are slaughtered for the markets; we found a multitude of spectators enjoying this amusement. Pray, says Mr. N, addressing himself to T, do you imagine this humane practice, and the complacency which these refined spectators seem to take in beholding it, proceed from the mildness of the climate, the pains bestowed in teaching the people the duties of christianity, the enlargement of their minds by history and poetry, or from the gentle influence of music upon their dispositions? Then turning from Mr. T to me, he continued, Not satisfied with knocking the poor animals on the head, those unfeeling epicures put them to an hours additional torture, merely to gratify a caprice of their corrupted palates. Of all subjects, replied T, recovering himself from the confusion into which Ns questions had thrown him, those who take upon them to be the panegyrists of the English nation, ought to avoid mentioning that species of epicurism which depends on eating, lest they be put in mind of whipping pigs to death, their manner of collaring brawn, crimping fish, and other refinements peculiar to that humane goodnatured people. N was just going to reply, when a large bull, rendered outrageous by the stones which the populace were throwing at him, ran suddenly towards the gate at the instant the keepers were opening it on some other account; which threw them into such confusion, that they had not time to shut it before the bull burst out on the multitude. He now became an object of terror to those who the moment before had looked on him as an object of mirth. The mighty lords of the creation, who consider other animals as formed entirely for their pastime, their attire, their food, fled in crowds from one quadruped, and would gladly have fallen on their knees and worshipped him, like so many Egyptians adoring Apis, if by so doing they could have hoped to deprecate the just wrath of the incensed animal.They found safety at length, not in their own courage or address, but in the superior boldness and agility of other animals, who were leagued with man against him. He was surrounded by dogs, who attacked him on all sideshe killed some outright, tossed and wounded many more; but perceiving his own strength diminishing, and the number of his enemies increasing every moment, he threw himself into the sea, and there found a temporary protection from the fury of his persecutors.But the dogs were instigated to follow; they at length drove him from this last asylum; and the poor, torn, bleeding, exhausted animal was forced ashore, three or four of the most furious of the dogs hanging at different parts of his head and neck. When they were removed, he raised his honest countenance, and threw an indignant look upon the rabble, as if to upbraid them for such a return for his own labours, and all the essential services which his whole species render to mankind. Upon my soul I felt the reproach. We could not bear his looks, but sneaked away without feeling much pride on account of our near connection with those lords of the creation, whom we had just beheld exerting their prerogative. We walked along a considerable time without speaking. N broke silence at last: Well, said he, those amiable creatures whom we have quitted, are what they call human beings;they are more, they are Neapolitans, men who are moved with the concord of sweet sounds; from which I conclude (Shakespear may say what he pleases), that such men are as fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils, as those who never heard softer melody than that of marrowbones and cleavers. This fondness for barbarous amusements, said I, cannot be stated exclusively to the account of Neapolitans, of English, or of any other particular people. I am afraid the charge lies against mankind in general; from whatever motive it arises, a large proportion of the individuals in all countries have displayed a decided taste for diversions which may be ranged in this class. It ought to be remembered, however, says T, that those fellows with their dogs, who have been tormenting the bull, are butchers, and the lowest of the vulgar of this country; whereas, among those who order fish to be crimped, and pigs to be whipped to death, as well as among those who formerly attended Broughtons amphitheatre, and still attend cockpits, will be found people of the first rank in England. Pray, said N, addressing himself to me, did you ever see a cocagna? I acknowledged I never had. Then, continued he, I beg leave to give you an idea of it. It is a Neapolitan entertainment, relished by people of the first rank in this polished country; where the very vagrants in the street are instructed in history, and the human mind is refined by poetry, softened by music, and elevated by religion. The cocagnaPray mark methe cocagna is an entertainment given to the people four succeeding Sundays during the carnival. Opposite to the palace, a kind of wooden amphitheatre is erected. This being covered with branches of trees, bushes, and various plants, real and artificial, has the appearance of a green hill. On this hill are little buildings, ornamented with pillars of loaves of bread, with joints of meat, and dried fish, varnished, and curiously arranged by way of capitals. Among the trees and bushes are some oxen, a considerable number of calves, sheep, hogs, and lambs, all alive, and tied to posts. There are, besides, a great number of living turkies, geese, hens, pigeons, and other fowls, nailed by the wings to the scaffolding. Certain Heathen Deities appear also occasionally upon this hill, but not with a design to protect it, as you shall see immediately. The guards are drawn up in three ranks, to keep off the populace. The Royal Family, with all the nobility of the court, crowd the windows and balconies of the palace, to enjoy this magnificent sight. When his Majesty waves his handkerchief, the guards open to the right and left; the rabble pour in from all quarters, and the entertainment commences. You may easily conceive what a delightful sight it must be, to see several thousand hungry, halfnaked lazzaroni rush in like a torrent, destroy the whole fabric of loaves, fishes, and joints of meat; overturn the Heathen Deities, for the honour of Christianity; pluck the fowls, at the expence of their wings, from the posts to which they were nailed; and, in the fury of their struggling and fighting for their prey, often tearing the miserable animals to pieces, and sometimes stabbing each other. You ought, in candour, to add, interrupted Mr. T, that, though formerly they were fixed to the posts alive, yet of late the larger cattle have been previously killed.And pray, my good Sir, said N, will you be so obliging as to inform me, what crime the poor lambs and fowls have committed, that they should be torn in pieces alive? This piece of humanity, continued he, recalls to my memory a similar instance, in a certain ingenious gentleman, who proposed, as the best and most effectual method of sweeping chimnies, to place a large goose at the top; and then, by a string tied around her feet, to pull the animal gently down to the hearth. The sagacious projector asserted, that the goose, being extremely averse to this method of entering a house, would struggle against it with all her might; and, during this resistance, would move her wings with such force and rapidity, as could not fail to sweep the chimney completely. Good God, Sir, cried a lady, who was present when this new method was proposed, How cruel would that be to the poor goose! Why, Madam, replied the gentleman, if you think my method cruel to the goose, a couple of ducks will do. LETTER LXIV. Naples. On the first Sunday of May, we had an opportunity of seeing the famous Neapolitan miracle, of the liquefaction of Saint Januariuss blood, performed. This Saint, you know, is the patron of Naples; which circumstance alone forms a strong presumption of his being a Saint of very considerable power and efficacy; for it is not to be imagined that the care of a city, like Naples, which is threatened every moment with destruction from Mount Vesuvius, would be entrusted to an understrapper. Indeed there has, on some occasions, been reason to fear, that, great and powerful as this Saint is, the Dmon of the mountain would have got the better of him; however, as Saint Januarius has been able to protect them hitherto, and is supposed to be improved in the science of defence by long practice, the Neapolitans think it more prudent to abide by him than to choose another; who, though he may possibly be of higher rank, and older standing, cannot have equal experience in this particular kind of warfare. Saint Januarius suffered martyrdom about the end of the third century. When he was beheaded, a pious lady of this city caught about an ounce of his blood, which has been carefully preserved in a bottle ever since, without having lost a single grain of its weight. This of itself, were it equally demonstrable, might be considered as a greater miracle than the circumstance on which the Neapolitans lay the whole stress, viz. that the blood which has congealed, and acquired a solid form by age, is no sooner brought near the head of the Saint, than, as a mark of veneration, it immediately liquefies. This experiment is made three different times every year, and is considered by the Neapolitans as a miracle of the first magnitude. As the divinity of no other religion whatever is any longer attempted to be proved by fresh miracles, but all are now trusted to their own internal evidence, and to those wrought at a former period, this miracle of Saint Januarius is probably the more admired on account of its being the only one, except transubstantiation, which remains still in use, out of the vast abundance said to have been performed at various periods in support of the Roman Catholic faith. The latter is unquestionably the greater miracle, of the two; for to change a wafer into flesh and blood, is more extraordinary than to liquefy any substance whatever: Yet I once imagined the liquefaction had rather the advantage in this particular; that the change is more obvious to the senses. But I have lately been otherwise instructed, by an ingenious person, who was formerly a Jesuit. On somebody (not me, for I never do make objections in matters of faith) having observed, That it was unfortunate that the great change operated on the wafer in transubstantiation, was not visible, the person above alluded to pronounced the miracle to be much greater on that account. For pray, Sir, said he, addressing himself to the objector, suppose I should immediately turn that fowl, pointing to a turkey which was at that moment stalking past; suppose I should immediately turn that fowl into a woman, would you not think it very extraordinary? Certainly, replied the other. Well, Sir, but after the change is actually made, and the fowl has to all intents and purposes become a woman, if it still retained the appearance of a turkey, you must acknowledge that would be more extraordinary still. In the same manner, continued he, in the celebration of mass, the conversion of the wafer into the real body and blood of Jesus Christ, is a great miracle, and highly to be venerated; but, after this wonderful change has actually taken place, that the real body of Christ should, even in the eyes of the sharpest sighted spectators, still retain its original form of a wafer, is a great deal more amazing and stupendous. But, however great a superiority the miracle of transubstantiation may have over that of St. Januarius, in the opinion of Roman Catholics in general, the Neapolitans imagine the latter is sufficient to convert infidels, and put heretics out of countenance. A zealous believer of this country, having described the miracle, breaks out into the following exclamations: O illustre memoria! O verit irrefragabile! vengano gli Heretici, vengano, e Stupiscano, ed aprano gli occhi alla verit Cattolica, et Evangelica; Bastarebbe questo sangue di S. Gennaro sola  fare testimonia della Fede. E possibile, che a tanto, et si famoso miraculo non si converta tutta la Gentilit , ed Infedelt alla verit Cattolica della Romana chiesa? Though I am not such an enthusiastic admirer of the performance as this author, yet, on the other hand, I do not think that Protestants, however much they may be convinced it is a trick, have any right to call it a clumsy trick, without explaining in what it consists. This is a liberty which some travellers of great eminence have taken. Others have asserted, that the substance in the bottle, which is exhibited for the blood of the Saint, is something naturally solid, but which melts with a small degree of heat. When it is first brought out of the cold chapel, say those gentlemen, it is in its natural solid state; but when brought before the Saint by the priest, and rubbed between his warm hands, and breathed upon for some time, it melts; and this is the whole mystery. Though I find myself unable to explain on what principle the liquefaction depends, I am fully convinced that it must be something different from this; for I have it from the most satisfactory authority, from those who had opportunities of knowing, and who believe no more in the miracle than you do, that this congealed mass has sometimes been found in a liquid state in cold weather, before it was touched by the Priest, or brought near the head of the Saint; and that, on other occasions, it has remained solid when brought before him, notwithstanding all the efforts of the Priest to melt it. When this happens, the superstitious, which, at a very moderate calculation, comprehends ninetynine in a hundred of the inhabitants of this city, are thrown into the utmost consternation, and are sometimes wrought up by their fears into a state of mind which is highly dangerous both to their civil and ecclesiastical governors. It is true, that this happens but seldom; for, in general, the substance in the phial, whatever it may be, is in a solid form in the chapel, and becomes liquid when brought before the Saint; but as this is not always the case, it affords reason to believe, that, whatever may have been the case when this miracle or trick, call it which you please, was first exhibited, the principle on which it depends has somehow or other been lost, and is not now understood fully even by the Priests themselves; or else they are not now so expert, as formerly, in preparing the substance which represents the Saints blood, so as to make it remain solid when it ought, and liquefy the instant it is required. The head and blood of the Saint are kept in a kind of press, with folding doors of silver, in the chapel of St. Januarius, belonging to the cathedral church. The real head is probably not so fresh, and well preserved, as the blood; and on that account is not exposed to the eyes of the public, but inclosed in a large silver bust, gilt and enriched with jewels of high value. This being what appears to the people, their idea of the Saints features and complexion are taken entirely from the bust. The blood is kept in a small repository by itself. About midday, the bust, inclosing the real head, was brought with great solemnity, and placed under a kind of portico, open on all sides, that the different communities, which come in procession, may be able to traverse it, and that the people may have the comfort of beholding the miracle. The processions of that solemn day were innumerable; all the streets of Naples were crowded with the various orders of ecclesiastics, dressed in their richest robes. The monks of each convent were mustered under their own particular banners. A splendid cross was carried before each procession; and the images, in massy silver, of the Saints, peculiarly patronising the convents, followed the cross. In this order they marched from the convents to the pavilion, under which the head of St. Januarius was placed, and having done due obeisance to that great protector of this city, they marched back by a different route, in the same order, to their convent. But as there are a great many convents in Naples, and a great number of monks in each convent, though the processions began soon after midday, the evening was well advanced before the last of them had passed. The grand procession of all began when the others had finished. It was composed of a numerous body of clergy, and an immense multitude of people of all ranks, headed by the archbishop of Naples himself, who carried the phial containing the blood of the Saint. The D of H and I accompanied Sir W H to a house directly opposite to the portico, where the sacred head was placed. We there found a large assembly of Neapolitan nobility. A magnificent robe of velvet, richly embroidered, was thrown over the shoulders of the bust; a mitre, refulgent with jewels, was placed on its head. The archbishop, with a solemn pace, and a look full of awe and veneration, approached, holding forth the sacred phial which contained the precious lump of blood. He addressed the Saint in the humblest manner, fervently praying that he would graciously condescend to manifest his regard to his faithful votaries the people of Naples, by the usual token of ordering that lump of his sacred blood to assume its natural and original form. In those prayers he was joined by the multitude around, particularly by the women; of whom there seemed more than their proportion. My curiosity prompted me to leave the balcony, and mingle with the multitude. I got by degrees quite near the bust. Twenty minutes had already elapsed, since the archbishop had been praying with all possible earnestness, and turning the phial around and around without any effect. An old monk stood near the archbishop, and was at the utmost pains to instruct him how to handle, chafe, and rub the phial; he frequently took it into his own hands, but his manuvres were as ineffectual as those of the archbishop. By this time the people had become exceedingly noisy; the women were quite hoarse with praying; the monk continued his operations with increased zeal; and the archbishop was all over in a profuse sweat with vexation. In whatever light the failure of the miracle might appear to others, it was a very serious matter to him; because the people consider such an event as a proof of the Saints displeasure, and a certain indication that some dreadful calamity will ensue. This was the first opportunity he had had of officiating since his nomination to the see. There was no knowing what fancy might have entered into the heads of a superstitious populace; they might have imagined, or his enemies might have insinuated, that the failure of the miracle proceeded from St. Januariuss disapprobation of the person in whose hands it was to have taken place. I never saw more evident marks of vexation and alarm than appeared in the countenance of the right reverend personage. This alone would have convinced me that they cannot command the liquefaction when they please. While things were in this state I observed a gentleman come hastily through the crowd, and speak to the old monk, who, in a pretty loud voice, and with an accent and a grimace very expressive of chagrin, replied, Cospetto di bacco  dura come una pietra. At the same time an acquaintance whispered me, That it would be prudent to retire, because the mob on similar occasions have been struck with a notion, that the operation of the miracle was disturbed by the presence of heretics; on which they are apt to insult them. I directly took his hint, and joined the company I had left. An universal gloom had overspread all their countenances, they talked to each other in whispers, and seemed oppressed with grief and contrition. One very beautiful young lady cried and sobbed as if her heart had been ready to break. The passions of some of the rabble without doors took a different turn; instead of sorrow, they were filled with rage and indignation at the Saints obstinacy. They put him in mind of the zeal with which he was adored by people of all ranks in Naples; of the honours which had been conferred on him; that he was respected here more than in any other country on earth; and some went so far as to call him, an old ungrateful yellowfaced rascal, for his obduracy. It was now almost darkand when least expected, the signal was given that the miracle was performed.The populace filled the air with repeated shouts of joy; a band of music began to play; Te Deum was sung; couriers were dispatched to the royal family, then at Portici, with the glad tidings; the young lady dried up her tears; the countenances of our company brightened in an instant, and they sat down to cards without farther dread of eruptions, earthquakes, or pestilence. I had remarked, during their suspence with respect to the success of the miracle, that some imputed the delay partly to the weather, which happened to be rainy, and colder than is usual at this season; and partly to the aukwardness of the Archbishop, who, never having performed before, was accused of not handling the phial in the same dexterous and efficacious manner that a person of experience would have done. While they imputed the failure to those causes, they seemed equally uneasy with the rest of the company about the consequences. It struck me that the first sentiment was perfectly inconsistent with the second. I mentioned this to a French gentleman, who is here as travelling companion to the young Comte de G. If, said I, the weather, or the unskilfulness of the Archbishop, has prevented the substance in the phial from becoming liquid, this surely cannot be an indication that Heaven or the Saint is displeased; if, on the contrary, the blood continuing solid in the presence of the Saint, proceeds from Heaven or the Saint being offended, then no kind of weather, and no kind of expertness on the part of the Archbishop, could have rendered it liquid.Monsieur, said he, voil ce quon appelle raisonner, ce que ces messieurs ne font jamais. The same evening, an acquaintance of mine, who is also a Roman Catholic, and who remained close by the Archbishop till all was over, assured me, that the miracle had failed entirely; for the old monk seeing no symptom of the blood liquefying, had called out that the miracle had succeeded; on which the signal had been given, the people had shouted, the Archbishop had held up the bottle, moving it with a rapid motion before the eyes of the spectators, and nobody chusing to contradict what every body wished, he had been allowed to cover up the phial, and carry it back to the Chapel, with the contents, in the same form they had come abroad. How far this account is exactly true, I will not take on me to assert; I was not near enough to see the transaction myself, and I have only the authority of this person, having heard no other body say they had observed the same. LETTER LXV. Naples. The tomb of Virgil is on the mountain of Pausilippo, a little above the grotto of that name; you ascend to it by a narrow path which runs through a vineyard; it is overgrown with ivy leaves and shaded with branches, shrubs, and bushes; an ancient baytree, with infinite propriety, overhangs it. Many a solitary walk have I taken to this place. The earth, which contains his ashes, we expect to find clothed in the brightest verdure. Viewed from the magic spot, the objects which adorn the bay become doubly interesting. The Poets verses are here recollected with additional pleasure; the verses of Virgil are interwoven in our minds with a thousand interesting ideas, with the memory of our boyish years, or the sportive scenes of childhood, of our earliest friends and companions, many of whom are now dead; and those who still live, and for whom we retain the first impression of affection, are at such a distance as renders the hopes of seeing them again very uncertain. No wonder, therefore, when in a contemplative mood, that our steps are often directed to a spot so well calculated to create and cherish sentiments congenial with the state of our mind. But then comes an antiquarian, who, with his odious doubts, disturbs the pleasing source of our enjoyment; and from the fair and delightful fields of fancy, conveys us in a moment to a dark, barren, and comfortless desert;he doubts, whether this be the real place where the ashes of Virgil were deposited; and tells us an unsatisfactory story about the other side of the bay, and that he is rather inclined to believe that the Poet was buried somewhere there, without fixing on any particular spot. Would to heaven those doubters would keep their minds to themselves, and not ruffle the tranquillity of believers! But, after all, why should not this be the real tomb of Virgil? Why should the enthusiasts, who delight in pilgrimages to this spot, be deprived of that pleasure? Why should the Poets ghost be allowed to wander along the dreary banks of Styx, till the antiquarians erect a cenotaph in his honour? Even they acknowledge that he was buried on this bay, and near Naples; and tradition has fixed on this spot, which, exclusive of other presumptions, is a much stronger evidence in its favour than their vague conjectures against it. In your way to the classic fields of Baia and Cum, you pass through the grotto of Pausilippo, a subterraneous passage through the mountain, near a mile in length, about twenty feet in breadth, and thirty or forty in height, every where, except at the two extremities, where it is much higher. People of fashion generally drive through this passage with torches, but the country people and foot passengers find their way without much difficulty by the light which enters at the extremities, and at two holes pierced through the mountain near the middle of the grotto, which admit light from above. Mr. Addison tells us, that the common people of Naples in his time believed that this passage through the mountain was the work of magic, and that Virgil was the magician. But this is the age of scepticism; and the common people, in imitation of people of fashion, begin to harbour doubts concerning all their old established opinions. A Neapolitan Valetdeplace asked an English gentleman lately, Whether Signior Virgilio, of whom he had heard so much, had really, and bona fide, been a magician or not? A magician, replied the Englishman; ay, that he was, and a very great magician too. And do you, resumed the Valet, believe it was he who pierced this rock? As for this particular rock, answered the Master, I will not swear to it from my own knowledge, because it was done before I was born; but I am ready to make oath, that I have known him pierce, and even melt, some very obdurate substances. Two miles beyond the Grotta di Pausilippe, is a circular lake, about half a mile in diameter, called Lago dAgnano; on whose margin is situated the famous Grotta del Cane, where so many dogs have been tortured and suffocated, to shew the effect of a vapour which rises about a foot above the bottom of this little cave, and is destructive of animal life. A dog having his head held in this vapour, is convulsed in a few minutes, and soon after falls to the earth motionless. This experiment is repeated for the amusement of every unfeeling person, who has half a crown in his pocket, and affects a turn for natural philosophy. The experiment is commonly made on dogs; because they, of all animals, show the greatest affection for man, and prefer his company to that of their own species, or of any other living creature. The fellows who attend at this cave have always some miserable dogs, with ropes about their necks, ready for this cruel purpose. If the poor animals were unconscious of what was to happen, it would be less affecting; but they struggle to get free, and show every symptom of horror when they are dragged to this cave of torment. I should have been happy to have taken the effect of the vapour for granted, without a new trial; but some of the company were of a more philosophical turn of mind than I have any pretensions to. When the unhappy animal found all his efforts to escape were ineffectual, he seemed to plead for mercy by the dumb eloquence of looks, and the blandishments natural to his species. While he licked the hand of his keeper, the unrelenting wretch dashed him a blow, and thrust his head into the murderous vapour. When the real utility of the knowledge acquired by cruel experiments on animals (a practice which has been carried to dreadful lengths of late) is fairly stated, and compared with the exquisiteness of their sufferings, the benefit resulting to mankind from thence will seem too dearly bought in the eyes of a person of humanity. Humanity! If language had belonged to other animals besides man, might not they have chosen that word to expresscruelty? if they had, thank God, they would have done injustice to many of the human race. I have left the poor dog too long in the vapour; much longer than he remained in reality. The D of H, shocked at the fellows barbarity, wrested the dog from his hands, bore him to the open air, and gave him life and liberty; which he seemed to enjoy with all the bounding rapture of gladness and gratitude. If you should ever come this way, pray do not insist on seeing the experiment; it is not worth while; the thing is ascertained; it is beyond a doubt that this vapour convulses and kills every breathing animal. You come next to the favourite fields of fancy and poetical fiction. The Campi Phlegrei, where Jupiter overcame the giants; the solfaterra still smoking, as if from the effects of his thunder; the Monte Nova, which was thrown suddenly from the bowels of the earth, as if the sons of Titan had intended to renew the war; the Monte Barbaro, formerly Mons Gaurus, the favourite of Bacchus; the grotto of the Cuman Sibyl; the noxious and gloomy lakes of Avernus and Acheron; and the green bowers of Elysium. The town of Puzzoli, and its environs, present such a number of objects, worthy of the attention of the antiquarian, the natural philosopher, and the classic scholar, that to describe all with the minuteness they deserve, would fill volumes. The Temple of Jupiter Serapis at Puzzoli, is accounted a very interesting monument of antiquity; being quite different from the Roman and Greek temples, and built in the manner of the Asiatics, probably by the Egyptian and Asiatic merchants settled at Puzzoli, which was the great emporium of Italy, until the Romans built Ostia and Antium. Sylla having abdicated the Dictatorship, retired, and passed the remainder of his life in this city. The ruins of Ciceros villa, near this city, are of such extent, as to give a high idea of the wealth of this great orator. Had Fortune always bestowed her gifts with so much propriety, she never would have been accused of blindness. When the truly great are blessed with riches, it affords pleasure to every candid mind. Neither this villa near Puzzoli, that at Tusculum, nor any of his other countryseats, were the scenes of idleness or riot. They are distinguished by the names of the works he composed there; works which have always been the delight of the learned, and which, still more than the important services he rendered his country when in office, have contributed to immortalize his name. The bay between Puzzoli and Baia is about a league in breadth. In crossing this in a boat, you see the ruins called Ponte di Caligula, from their being thought the remains of a bridge which Caligula attempted to build across. They are by others, with more probability, thought to be the ruins of a mole built with arches. Having passed over this gulph, a new field of curiosities presents itself. The baths and prisons of Nero, the tomb of Agrippina, the temples of Venus, of Diana, and of Mercury, and the ruins of the ancient city of Cum; but no vestiges now remain of many of those magnificent villas which adorned this luxurious coast, nor even of the town of Baia. The whole of this beauteous bay, formerly the seat of pleasure, and, at one period, the most populous spot in Italy, is now very thinly inhabited; and the contrast is still stronger between the antient opulence and present poverty, than between the numbers of its antient and present inhabitants. It must be acknowledged, that we can hardly look around us, in any part of this world, without perceiving objects which, to a contemplative mind, convey reflections on the instability of grandeur, and the sad vicissitudes and reverses to which human affairs are liable; but here those objects are so numerous, and so striking, that they must make an impression on the most careless passenger. LETTER LXVI. Naples. As the Court are not at present at Casserta, we have not seen that place in all its splendour; we passed, however, one very agreeable day there, with Lady H and SH Fn. The palace at Casserta was begun in the year 1750, after a plan of Vanvitelli; the work is now carried on under the direction of his son. While the present King of Spain remained at Naples, there were generally about two thousand workmen employed; at present there are about five hundred. It will be finished in a few years, and will then, unquestionably, be one of the most spacious and magnificent palaces in Europe. It has been said, that London is too large a capital for the island of Great Britain; and it has been compared to a turgid head placed on an emaciated body. The palace of Casserta also seems out of proportion with the revenues of this kingdom. It is not, properly speaking, a head too large for the body; but rather an ornament, by much too expensive and bulky for either head or body. This palace is situated about sixteen miles north from Naples, on the plain where ancient Capua stood. It was thought prudent to found a building, on which such sums of money were to be lavished, at a considerable distance from Mount Vesuvius. It were to be wished, that the contents of the cabinet at Portici were removed from the same dangerous neighbourhood. That he might not be limited in ground for the gardens, may have been his Spanish Majestys motive for choosing that his palace should be at a distance from Naples; and that it might not be exposed to insult from an enemys fleet, was probably the reason that determined him to place it at a distance from the sea. This immense building is of a rectangular form, seven hundred and fifty feet English, by five hundred and eighty; about one hundred and twelve feet high, comprehending five habitable stories, which contain such a number of apartments as will accommodate the most numerous court, without any accessary buildings. The rectangle is divided into four courts, each of about two hundred and fiftytwo feet by one hundred and seventy. In each of the two principal fronts, are three corresponding gates, forming three openings, which pierce the whole building. The middle gate forms the entry to a magnificent portico, through which the coaches drive. In the middle of this, and in the centre of the edifice, there is a vestibule of an octogonal form, which opens into the four grand courts at four sides of the octogon; two other sides open into the portico, one to the staircase; and, at the eighth side, there is a statue of Hercules, crowned by Victory, with this inscription, VIRTUS POST FORTIA FACTA CORONAT. The grand staircase is adorned with the richest marble; the upper vestibule to which you ascend by this noble stair, is an octogon also, and surrounded by twentyfour pillars of yellow marble, each of which is of one piece of eighteen feet high, without including the pedestal or capital. From this upper vestibule there are entries intoBut I have a notion you are tired of this description, which I assure you is likewise my case. I beg, therefore, you may take it for granted, that the apartments within, particularly their Majesties, and that destined for balls and theatrical entertainments, correspond with the magnificence of the external appearance. Among the workmen employed in finishing this palace and the gardens, there are one hundred and fifty Africans; for as the King of Naples is constantly at war with the Barbary States, he always has a number of their sailors prisoners, all of whom are immediately employed as slaves in the gallies, or at some public work. There are at present at Casserta, about the same number of Christian slaves; all of these have been condemned to this servitude for some crime, some of them for the greatest of all crimes; they are, however, better clothed and fed than the Africans. This is done, no doubt, in honour of the Christian religion, and to demonstrate that Christians, even after they have been found guilty of the blackest crimes, are worthier men, and more deserving of lenity, than Mahometan prisoners, however innocent they may be in all other respects. The gardens belonging to this palace are equally extensive and magnificent. A great number of fine statues, most of them copies of the best antique, are kept in a storehouse till the gardens are finished, when they will be placed in them. The largest and finest elephant I ever saw is here at present; he is kept by African slaves: they seem to know how to manage him perfectly; he is well thriven, and goes through a number of tricks and evolutions with much docility and judgment. In the garden, there is an artificial water and island. This, if one may venture to say so, seems a little injudicious; it brings to our memory the bay of Naples, with its islands, a recollection by no means favourable to this royal contrivance. In this island there is a kind of a castle, regularly fortified, with a ditch around it, and ramparts, bastions, sallyports, c. c. and a numerous train of artillery, some of them nine or ten ouncers. I no sooner entered this fort, than I wished that Uncle Toby and Corporal Trim had been of our party; it would have charmed the soul of the worthy veteran and his faithful servant. I asked the man who attended us, What he imagined this fortification was intended for?Sir H F said, The cannon were certainly designed against the frogs, who were continually attempting to scale the ramparts from the ditch.I asked again, What was the real design of erecting this fort? The man answered, stretching out his arms, and making as wide a circle with them as he could, Tutto, tutto per il sollazo del Re. Yes, said I, it is surely in the highest degree reasonable, that not only this fort, but the whole kingdom, should be appropriated to the amusement of his Majesty.Certo, replied the man. I wished to see how far the fellows liberality would goNot only this kingdom, continued I, but all Europe would be highly honoured in contributing to the amusement of his Majesty. Certo, certo, said the man. LETTER LXVII. Naples. The King and Queen lately paid a visit to four of the principal nunneries in this town. Their motive was, to gratify the curiosity of the Archduchess, and her husband, Prince Albert of Saxony. I ought to have informed you, that this illustrious couple left Vienna some months after us, with an intention to make the tour of Italy. We had the honour of seeing them frequently while at Rome, where they conciliated the affections of the Italian nobles by their obliging manners, as much as they commanded respect by their high rank. The Archduchess is a very beautiful woman, and more distinguished by the propriety of her conduct, than by either birth or beauty. As white, by the link of contrast, is connected with the idea of black; so this amiable Duchess sometimes recals those to peoples memories, whose ideas of dignity are strongly contrasted with hers. Conscious, from her infancy, of the highest rank, and accustomed to honours, it never enters into her thoughts that any person will fail in paying her a due respect; while they, eternally jealous that enough of respect is not paid them, give themselves airs which would be intolerable in an Empress. A smile of benignity puts all who approach this Princess perfectly at their ease, and dignity sits as smoothly on her as a wellmade garment; while, on them, it bristles out like the quills of a porcupine, or the feathers of an enraged turkeycock. As nobody is permitted to enter those convents, except on such extraordinary occasions as this, when they are visited by the Sovereigns, the British Minister seized this opportunity of procuring an order for admitting the D of H and me. We accordingly accompanied him, and a few others, who were in the Kings suite. I have seen various nunneries in different parts of Europe, but none that could be compared even with the meanest of those four in this city, for neatness and conveniency. Each of them is provided with a beautiful garden; and the situation of one is the happiest that can be imagined, commanding a prospect nearly as extensive as that from the Carthusian convent near the castle of St. Elmo. Those four nunneries are for the reception of young ladies of good families; and, into one in particular, none but such as are of very high rank can be admitted, either as pensioners, or to take the veil. Each of the young ladies in this splendid convent, have both a summer and a winter apartment, and many other accommodations unknown in other retreats of this nature. The royal visitors were received in all of them by the Lady Abbess, at the head of the oldest of the sisterhood; they were afterwards presented with nosegays, and served with fruit, sweetmeats, and a variety of cooling drinks, by the younger nuns. The Queen and her amiable sister received all very graciously; conversing familiarly with the Lady Abbesses, and asking a few obliging questions of each. In one convent the company were surprised, on being led into a large parlour, to find a table covered, and every appearance of a most plentiful cold repast, consisting of several joints of meat, hams, fowl, fish, and various other dishes. It seemed rather illjudged to have prepared a feast of such a solid nature immediately after dinner; for those royal visits were made in the afternoon. The Lady Abbess, however, earnestly pressed their Majesties to sit down, with which they complied, and their example was followed by the Archduchess and some of the ladies; the nuns stood behind, to serve their Royal guests. The Queen chose a slice of cold turkey, which, on being cut up, turned out a large piece of lemon ice, of the shape and appearance of a roasted turkey. All the other dishes were ices of various kinds, disguised under the forms of joints of meat, fish, and fowl, as above mentioned. The gaiety and good humour of the King, the affable and engaging behaviour of the Royal sisters, and the satisfaction which beamed from the plump countenance of the Lady Abbess, threw an air of cheerfulness on this scene; which was interrupted, however, by gleams of melancholy reflection, which failed not to dart across the mind, at sight of so many victims to the pride of family, to avarice, and superstition. Many of those victims were in the full bloom of health and youth, and some of them were remarkably handsome. There is something in a nuns dress which renders the beauty of a young woman more interesting than is in the power of the gayest, richest, and most laboured ornaments. This certainly does not proceed from any thing remarkably becoming in black and white flannel. The Lady Abbess and the elderly nuns made no more impression in their vestal robes, than those stale, forlorn dames, whom you may see displaying their family jewels and shrivelled countenances every night at Ranelagh or in the sideboxes. The interest you take in a beautiful woman is heightened on seeing her in the dress of a nun, by the opposition which you imagine exists between the life to which her rash vows have condemned her, and that to which her own unbiassed inclination would have led her. You are moved with pity, which you know is akin to love, on seeing a young blooming creature doomed to retirement and selfdenial, who was formed by nature for society and enjoyment. If we may credit the ancient poets, those young women who are confined to a cloister life on any part of this coast, are more to be pitied than they would be under the same restraint elsewhere. They tell us, the very air in this part of Italy is repugnant to that kind of constitution, and that turn of mind, of which it would be peculiarly happy for nuns to be possessed. Propertius intreats his Cynthia not to remain too long on a shore which he seems to think dangerous to the chastest maiden. Tu modo quamprimum corruptas desere Baias ... Littora qu fuerant castis inimica puellis. Martial asserts, that a woman who came hither as chaste as Penelope, if she remained any time, would depart as licentious and depraved as Helen, Penelope venit, abit Helene. I have certainly met with ladies, after they had resided some time at Naples, who, in point of character and constitution, were thought to have a much stronger resemblance to Helen than to Penelope; but as I have no great faith in the sudden operation of physical causes in matters of this kind, I never doubted of those ladies having carried the same disposition to Naples that they brought from it. Though there are not wanting those who affirm, that the influence of this seducing climate is evident now in as strong a degree as it is described to have been anciently; that it pervades people of all ranks and conditions, and that in the convents themselves; Even there where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. Others, who carry their researches still deeper, and pretend to have a distinct knowledge of the effect of aliment through all its changes on the human constitution, think, that the amorous disposition, imputed to Neapolitans, is only in part owing to their voluptuous climate, but in a far greater degree to the hot, sulphureous nature of their soil, which those profound naturalists declare communicates its fiery qualities to the juices of vegetables; thence they are conveyed to the animals who feed on them, and particularly to man, whose nourishment consisting both of animal and vegetable food, he must have in his veins a double dose of the stimulating particles in question. No wonder, therefore, say those nice investigators of cause and effect, that the inhabitants of this country are more given to amorous indulgencies, than those who are favoured with a chaster soil and a colder climate. For my own part, I must acknowledge, that I have seen nothing, since I came to Naples, to justify the general imputations above mentioned, or to support this very ingenious theory. On the contrary, there are circumstances from which the opposers of this system draw very different conclusions; for every system of philosophy, like every Minister of Great Britain, has an opposition. The gentlemen in opposition to the voluptuous influence of this climate, and the fiery effects of this soil, undermine the foundation of their antagonists theory, by asserting, that, so far from being of a warmer complexion than their neighbours, the Neapolitans are of colder constitutions, or more philosophic in the command of their passions, than any people in Europe. Do not the lower class of men, say they, strip themselves before the houses which front the bay, and bathe in the sea without the smallest ceremony? Are not numbers of those stout, athletic figures, during the heat of the day, seen walking and sporting on the shore perfectly naked; and with no more idea of shame, than Adam felt in his state of innocence; while the ladies from their coaches, and the servantmaids and young girls, who pass along, contemplate this singular spectacle with as little apparent emotion as the ladies in Hyde Park behold a review of the horseguards? As Sir W and Ly H are preparing to visit England, and the D feels no inclination to remain after they are gone, we intend to return to Rome in a few days. LETTER LXVIII. Rome. We delayed visiting Tivoli, Frescati, and Albano, till our return from Naples. The Campagna is an uninhabited plain, surrounding the city of Rome, bounded on one side by the sea, and on the other by an amphitheatre of hills, crowned with towns, villages, and villas, which form the finest landscapes that can be imagined. The ancient Romans were wont to seek shelter from the scorching heats of summer, among the woods and lakes of those hills; and the Cardinals and Roman Princes, at the same season, retire to their villas; while many of the wealthier sort of citizens take lodgings in the villages, during the season of gathering the vines. On the road from Rome to Tivoli, about three miles from the latter, strangers are desired to visit a kind of lake called Solfatara formerly Lakus Albulus, and there shown certain substances, to which they give the name of Floating Islands. They are nothing else than bunches of bullrushes, springing from a thin soil, formed by dust and sand blown from the adjacent ground, and glued together by the bitumen which swims on the surface of this lake, and the sulphur with which its waters are impregnated. Some of these islands are twelve or fifteen yards in length; the soil is sufficiently strong to bear five or six people, who, by the means of a pole, may move to different parts of the lake, as if they were in a boat. This lake empties itself, by a whitish, muddy stream, into the Teverone, the ancient Anio; a vapour, of a sulphureous smell, arising from it as it flows. The ground near this rivulet, as also around the borders of the lake, resounds, as if it were hollow, when a horse gallops over it. The water of this lake has the singular quality of covering every substance which it touches with a hard, white, stoney matter. On throwing a bundle of small sticks or shrubs into it, they will, in a few days, be covered with a white crust; but, what seems still more extraordinary, this encrustating quality is not so strong in the lake itself, as in the canal, or little rivulet that runs from it; and the farther the water has flowed from the lake, till it is quite lost in the Anio, the stronger this quality is. Those small, round encrustations, which cover the sand and pebbles, resembling sugarplums, are called Confetti di Tivoli. Fishes are found in the Anio, both above and below Tivoli, till it receives the Albula; after which, during the rest of its course to the Tiber, there are none. The waters of this lake had a high medical reputation anciently, but they are in no esteem at present. Near the bottom of the eminence on which Tivoli stands, are the ruins of the vast and magnificent villa built by the emperor Adrian. In this were comprehended an amphitheatre, several temples, a library, a circus, a naumachia. The emperor also gave to the buildings and gardens of this famous villa the names of the most celebrated places; as the Academia, the Lycum, the Prytaneum of Athens, the Tempe of Thessaly, and the Elysian fields and infernal regions of the poets. There were also commodious apartments for a vast number of guests, all admirably distributed with baths, and every conveniency. Every quarter of the world contributed to ornament this famous villa, whose spoils have since formed the principal ornaments of the Campidoglio, the Vatican, and the palaces of the Roman Princes. It is said to have been three miles in length, and above a mile in breadth. Some antiquarians make it much larger; but the ruins, now remaining, do not mark a surface of a quarter of that extent. At no great distance, they shew the place to which the Eastern Queen Zenobia was confined, after she was brought in triumph to Rome by the emperor Aurelian. The town of Tivoli is now wretchedly poor; it boasts however greater antiquity than Rome itself, being the ancient Tibur, which, Horace informs us, was founded by a Grecian colony. Tibur Argo positum colono Sit me sedes utinam senect. Ovid gives it the same origin, in the fourth book of the Fasti. Jam mnia Tiburis udi Stabant; Argolic quod posuere manus. This was a populous and flourishing town in remoter antiquity; but it appears to have been thinly inhabited in the reign of Augustus. Horace, in an Epistle to Mcenas, says, Parvum parva decent. Mihi jam non Regia Roma, Sed vacuum Tibur placet Though the town itself was not populous, the beauty of the situation, and wholesomeness of the air, prompted great numbers of illustrious Romans, both before the final destruction of the Republic, and afterwards in Augustuss time, to build countryhouses in the neighbourhood. Julius Csar had a villa here, which he was under the necessity of selling to defray the expence of the public shews and games he exhibited to the people during his dileship. Plutarch says, that his liberality and magnificence, on this occasion, obscured the glory of all who had preceded him in the office, and gained the hearts of the people to such a degree, that they were ready to invent new offices and new honours for him. He then laid the foundation of that power and popularity, which enabled him, in the end, to overturn the constitution of his country. Caius Cassius had also a country house here; where Marcus Brutus and he are said to have had frequent meetings, and to have formed the plan which terminated the ambition of Csar, and again offered to Rome that freedom which she had not the virtue to accept. Here, also, was the villa of Augustus, whose success in life arose at the field of Philippi from which he fled, was confirmed by the death of the most virtuous citizens of Rome, and who, without the talents, reaped the fruits of the labours and vast projects of Julius. Lepidus the Triumvir, Ccilius Metellus, Quintilius Varus, the poets Catullus and Propertius, and other distinguished Romans, had villas in this town or its environs; and you are shewn the spots on which they stood; but nothing renders Tibur so interesting, as the frequent mention which Horace makes of it in his writings. His great patron and friend Mcenas had a villa here, the ruins of which are to be seen on the south bank of the Anio; and it was pretty generally supposed, that the poets own house and farm were very near it, and immediately without the walls of Tibur; but it has been of late asserted, with great probability, that Horaces farm was situated nine miles above that of Mcenass, at the side of a stream called Licenza, formerly Digentia, near the hill Lucretilis, in the country of the ancient Sabines. Those who hold this opinion say, that when Horace talks of Tibur, he alludes to the villa of Mcenas; but when he mentions Digentia, or Lucretilis, his own house and farm are to be understood; as in the eighteenth Epistle of the first book, Me quoties resicit gelidus Digentia rivus, Quem Mandela bibit, rugosus frigore pagus; Quid sentire putas, quid credis, amice, precari? the seventeenth Ode of the first book, Velox amnum spe Lucretilem Mutat Lyco Faunus; and in other passages. But whether the poets house and farm were near the town of Tibur, or at a distance from it, his writings sufficiently show that he spent much of his time there; and it is probable that he composed great part of his works in that favourite retreat. This he himself in some measure declares, in that fine Ode addressed to Julius Antonius, son of Mark Antony, by Fulvia; the same whom Augustus first pardoned, and afterwards put privately to death, on account of an intrigue into which Antonius was seduced by the abandoned Julia, daughter of Augustus. Ego, apis Matin More modoque, Grata carpentis thyma per laborem Plurimum, circa nemus uvidique Tiburis ripas, operosa parvus Carmina fingo. If you ever come to Tivoli, let it not be with a numerous party; come alone, or with a single friend, and be sure to put your Horace in your pocket. You will read him here with more enthusiasm than elsewhere; you will imagine you see the philosophic poet wandering among the groves, sometimes calmly meditating his moral precepts, and sometimes his eye in a fine frenzy rolling with all the fire of poetic enthusiasm. If Tivoli had nothing else to recommend it but its being so often sung by the most elegant of the poets, and its having been the residence of so many illustrious men, these circumstances alone would render it worthy the attention of travellers; but it will also be interesting to many on account of its cascade, the Sibyls Temple, and the Villa Estense. The river Anio, deriving its source from a part of the Apennines, fifty miles above Tivoli, glides through a plain till it comes near that town, when it is confined for a short space between two hills, covered with groves. These were supposed to have been the residence of the Sibyl Albunea, to whom the temple was dedicated. The river, moving with augmented rapidity as its channel is confined, at length rushes headlong over a lofty precipice; the noise of its fall resounds through the hills and groves of Tivoli; a liquid cloud arises from the foaming water, which afterwards divides into numberless small cascades, waters several orchards, and, having gained the plain, flows quietly for the rest of its course, till it loses itself in the Tiber. It is not surprising that the following lines have been so often quoted by those who visit the Sibyls Temple, because they delineate, in the most expressive manner, some of the principal features of the country around it, Me nec tam patiens Lacedmon, Nec tam Lariss percussit campus opim, Quam domus Albune resonantis, Et prceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda Mobilibus pomaria rivis. The elegant and graceful form of the beautiful little temple I have so often mentioned, indicates its having been built when the arts were in the highest state of perfection at Rome. Its proportions are not more happy than its situation, on a point of the mountain fronting the great cascade. Before they take their leave of Tivoli, strangers usually visit the Villa Estense, belonging to the Duke of Modena. It was built by Hippolitus of Este, Cardinal of Ferrara, and brother to the duke of that name; but more distinguished by being the person to whom Ariosto addressed his Poem of Orlando Furioso. The house itself is not in the finest style of architecture. There are many whimsical waterworks in the gardens. Those who do not approve of the taste of their construction, still owe them some degree of respect, on account of their being the first grand waterworks in Europe; much more ancient than those of Versailles. The situation is noble, the terraces lofty, the trees large and venerable; and though the ground is not laid out to the greatest advantage, yet the whole has a striking air of magnificence and grandeur. LETTER LXIX. Rome. Frescati is an agreeable village, on the declivity of a hill, about twelve miles from Rome. It derives its name from the coolness of the air, and fresh verdure of the fields around. It is a bishops see, and always possessed by one of the six eldest Cardinals. At present it belongs to the Cardinal Duke of York, who, whether in the country or at Rome, passes the greatest part of his time in the duties and ceremonies of a religion, of whose truth he seems to have the fullest conviction; and who, living himself in great simplicity, and not in the usual style of Cardinals, spends a large proportion of his revenue in acts of charity and benevolence; the world forgetting, by the world forgot, except by those who enjoy the comforts of life through his bounty. Tivoli was the favourite residence of the ancient Romans. The moderns give the preference to Frescati, in whose neighbourhood some of the most magnificent villas in Italy are situated. The villa Aldobrandini, called also Belvedere, is the most remarkable, on account of its fine situation, extensive gardens, airy terraces, its grottos, cascades, and waterworks. Over a saloon, near the grand cascade, is the following inscription: HUC EGO MIGRAVI MUSIS COMITATUS APOLLO, HIC DELPHI, HIC HELICON, HIC MIHI DELOS ERIT. The walls are adorned with a representation of Apollo and the Muses; and some of that Gods adventures are painted in Fresco by Domenichino, particularly the manner in which he treated Marsyas. This, in my humble opinion, had better been omitted; both because it is a disagreeable subject for a picture, and because it does no honour to Apollo. Marsyas unquestionably was an object of contempt and ridicule, on account of his presumption; but the punishment said to have been inflicted on him exceeds all bounds, and renders the inflictor more detestable in our eyes than the insolent satyr himself. This story is so very much out of character, and so unlike the elegant god of poetry and music, that I am inclined to suspect it is not true. There is a report, equally incredible, which has been propagated by malicious people concerning his sister Diana; I do not mean her rencounter with Acton, for the Goddess of Chastity may, without inconsistency, be supposed cruel, but it is quite impossible to reconcile her general character with the stories of her nocturnal visits to Endymion. The villa Ludovisi is remarkable for its gardens and waterworks. The hills on which Frescati is situated, afford great abundance of water, a circumstance of which the owners of those villas have profited, all of them being ornamented with fountains, cascades, or waterworks of some kind or other. The villa Taverna, belonging to the Prince Borghese, is one of the finest and best furnished of any in the neighbourhood of Rome. From this you ascend through gardens to Monte Dracone, another palace on a more lofty situation, belonging also to that Prince, and deriving its name from the arms of his family. The ancient city of Tusculum is supposed to have stood on the spot, or very near it, where Frescati now is built; and at the distance of about a mile and a half, it is generally believed, was the Tusculan villa of Cicero, at a place now called Grotta Ferrata. Some Greek monks of the order of St. Basil, flying from the persecution of the Saracens in the eleventh century, were permitted to build a convent on the ruins of Ciceros famous house. They still perform the service in the Greek language. Whichever way you walk from Frescati, you have the most delightful scenes before you. I passed two very agreeable days, wandering through the gardens and from villa to villa. The pleasure of our party was not a little augmented by the observations of Mr. B, a lively old gentleman from Scotland, a man of worth but no antiquarian, and indeed no admirer of any thing, ancient or modern, which has not some relation to his native country; but to ballance that indifference, he feels the warmest regard for every thing which has. We extended our walks as far as the lake of Nemi, a bason of water lying in a very deep bottom, about four miles in circumference, whose surrounding hills are covered with tall and shady trees. Here Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A deathlike silence, and a dread repose; Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades every flower, and darkens every green. I never saw a place more formed for contemplation and solemn ideas. In ancient times there was a temple here sacred to Diana. The lake itself was called Speculum Dian, and Lacus Trivi, and is the place mentioned in the seventh Book of the neid, where the Fury Alecto is described blowing the trumpet of war, at whose dreadful sound the woods and mountains shook, and mothers, trembling for their children, pressed them to their bosoms. Contremuit nemus, et sylv intonuere profund, Audiit et trivi longe lacus7 Et trepid matres pressere ad pectora natus. We returned by Gensano, Marino, La Riccia, and Castel Gondolfo. All the villages and villas I have named communicate with each other by fine walks and avenues of lofty trees, whose intermingling branches form a continued shade for the traveller. Castel Gondolfo is a little village near the lake Albano, on one extremity of which is a castle, belonging to his Holiness, from which the village takes its name; there is nothing remarkably fine in this villa, except its situation. Near the village of Castel Gondolfo, is the villa Barbarini, within the gardens of which are the ruins of an immense palace, built by the Emperor Domitian. There is a charming walk, about a mile in length, along the side of the lake from Castel Gondolfo to the town of Albano. The lake of Albano is an oval piece of water of about seven or eight miles circumference, whose margin is finely adorned with groves and trees of various verdure, beautifully reflected from the transparent bosom of the lake; and which, with the surrounding hills, and the Castel Gondolfo which crowns one of them, has a fine picturesque effect. The grand scale on which the beauties of nature appear in Switzerland and the Alps, has been considered by some, as too vast for the pencil; but among the sweet hills and vallies of Italy, her features are brought nearer the eye, are fully seen and understood, and appear in all the bloom of rural loveliness. Tivoli, Albano, and Frescati, therefore, are the favourite abodes of the landscapepainters who travel to this country for improvement; and in the opinion of some, those delightful villages furnish studies better suited to the powers of their art, than even Switzerland itself. Nothing can surpass the admirable assemblage of hills, meadows, lakes, cascades, gardens, ruins, groves, and terraces, which charm the eye, as you wander among the shades of Frescati and Albano, which appear in new beauty as they are viewed from different points, and captivate the beholder with endless variety. One reflection obtrudes itself on the mind, and disturbs the satisfaction which such pleasing scenes would otherwise produce; it arises from beholding the poverty of infinitely the greater part of the inhabitants of those villagesNot that they seem miserable or discontenteda few roasted chesnuts, and some bunches of grapes, which they may have for a penny, will maintain them; but the easier they are satisfied, and the less repining they are, the more earnestly do we wish that they were better provided for. Good heavens! why should so much be heaped on a few, whom profusion cannot satisfy; while a bare competency is withheld from multitudes, whom penury cannot render discontented? The most commanding view is from the garden of a convent of Capucins, at no great distance from Albano. Directly before you is the lake, with the mountains and woods which surround it, and the castle of Gondolfo; on one hand is Frescati with all its villas; on the other, the towns of Albano, La Riccia, and Gensano; beyond these you have an uninterrupted view of the Campagna, with St. Peters church and the city of Rome in the middle; the whole prospect being bounded by the hills of Tivoli, the Apennines, and the Mediterranean. While we contemplated all these objects with pleasure and admiration, an English gentleman of the party said to Mr. B, There is not a prospect equal to this in all France or Germany, and not any superior even in England. That I well believe, replied the Caledonian; but if I had you in Scotland, I could shew you several with which this is by no means to be compared. Indeed! Pray in what part of Scotland are they to be seen? I presume you never was at the castle of Edinburgh, Sir? Never. Or at Stirling? Never. Did you ever see Loch Lomond, Sir? I never did. I suppose I need not ask, whether you have ever been in Aberdeenshire, or the Highlands, or I must confess once for all, interrupted the Englishman, that I have the misfortune never to have seen any part of Scotland. Then I am not surprised, said the Scot, taking a large pinch of snuff, that you think this the finest view you ever saw. I presume you think those in Scotland a great deal finer? A very great deal indeed, Sir; why that lake, for example, is a pretty thing enough; I dare swear, many an English nobleman would give a good deal to have such another before his house; but Loch Lomond is thirty miles in length, Sir! there are above twenty islands in it, Sir! that is a lake for you. As for their desert of a Campagna, as they call it, no man who has eyes in his head, Sir, will compare it to the fertile valley of Stirling, with the Forth, the most beautiful river in Europe, twining through it. Do you really in your conscience imagine, said the Englishman, that the Forth is a finer river than the Thames? The Thames! exclaimed the North Briton, Why, my dear Sir, the Thames at London is a mere gutter, in comparison of the Firth of Forth at Edinburgh. I suppose then, said the Englishman, recovering himself, you do not approve of the view from Windsor Castle? I ask your pardon, replied the other; I approve of it very much; it is an exceeding pretty kind of a prospect; the country appears from it as agreeable to the sight as any plain flat country, crowded with trees, and intersected by enclosures, can well do; but I own I am of opinion, that mere fertile fields, woods, rivers, and meadows, can never, of themselves, perfectly satisfy the eye. You imagine, no doubt, said the Englishman, that a few heathcovered mountains and rocks embellish a country very much? I am precisely of that opinion, said the Scot; and you will as soon convince me that a woman may be completely beautiful with fine eyes, good teeth, and a fair complexion, though she should not have a nose on her face, as that a landscape, or country, can be completely beautiful without a mountain. Well, but here are mountains enough, resumed the other; look around you. Mountains! cried the Caledonian, very pretty mountains, truly! They call that Castel Gondolfo of theirs a castle too, and a palace, forsooth! but does that make it a residence fit for a Prince? Why, upon my word, I do not think it much amiss, said the other; it looks full as well as the palace of St. Jamess. The palace of St. Jamess, exclaimed the Scot, is a scandal to the nation; it is both a shame and a sin, that so great a monarch as the King of Scotland, England, and Ireland, with his Royal consort, and their large family of small children, should live in a shabby old cloister, hardly good enough for monks. The palace of Holyroodhouse, indeed, is a residence meet for a king. And the gardens; pray what sort of gardens have you belonging to that palace? said the Englishman; I have been told you do not excel in those. But we excel in gardeners, replied the other, which are as much preferable as the creator is preferable to the created. I am surprised, however, rejoined the South Briton, that, in a country like yours, where there are so many creators, so very few fruitgardens are created. Why, Sir, it is not to be expected, said Mr. B, that anyone country will excel in every thing. Some enjoy a climate more favourable for peaches, and vines, and nectarines; but, by G, Sir, no country on earth produces better men and women than Scotland. I dare say none does, replied the other. So as France excels in wines, England in wool and oxen, Arabia in horses, and other countries in other animals, you imagine Scotland excels all others in the human species. What I said, Sir, was, that the human species in no country excel those in Scotland; and that I assert again, and will maintain, Sir, to my last gasp. I do not intend to deny it, said the Englishman; but you will permit me to observe, that, men being its staple commodity, it must be owned that Scotland carries on a brisk trade; for I know no country that has a greater exportation; you will find Scotchmen in all the countries of the world. So much the better for all the countries of the world, said Mr. B; for every body knows that the Scotch cultivate and improve the arts and sciences wherever they go. They certainly improve their own fortunes wherever they go, rejoined the other;like their gardeners, though they can create little or nothing at home, they often create very good fortunes in other countries; and this is one reason of our having the pleasure of so much of their company in London. Whether it affords you pleasure or not, Sir, nothing can be more certain, replied the Scot in the most serious tone, than that you may improve very much by their company and example. But there are various reasons, continued he, for so many of my countrymen sojourning in London. That city is now, in some measure, the capital of Scotland as well as of England. The seat of government is there; the King of Scotland, as well as of England, resides there; the Scotch nobility and gentry have as good a right to be near the person of their Sovereign as the English; and you must allow, that, if some Scotchmen make fortunes in England, many of our best estates are also spent there. But you mean to say, that the Scotch, in general, are poor in comparison of the English. This we do not deny, and cannot possibly forget, your countrymen refresh our memories with it so often. We allow, therefore, that you have this advantage over us;and the Persians had the same over the Macedonians at the battle of Arbela. But, whether Scotland be poor or rich, those Scots who settle in England must carry industry, talents, or wealth with them, otherwise they will starve there as well as elsewhere; and when one country draws citizens of this description from another, I leave you to judge which has the most reason to complain. And let me tell you, Sir, upon the whole, the advantages which England derives from the Union, are manifest and manifold. I cannot say, replied the Englishman, that I have thought much on this subject; but I shall be obliged to you if you will enumerate a few of them. In the first place, resumed the Scot, Has she not greatly increased in wealth since that time? She has so, replied the other, smiling, and I never knew the real cause before. In the next place, Has she not acquired a million and a half of subjects, who otherwise would have been with her enemies? For this, and other reasons, they are equivalent to three millions. In the third place, Has she not acquired security? without which riches are of no value. There is no door open now, Sir, by which the French can enter into your country. They dare as soon be d as attempt to invade Scotland; so if you can defend your own coast, there is no fear of you; but without a perfect union with Scotland, England could not enjoy the principal benefit she derives from her insular situation. Not till Scotland should be subdued, said the Englishman. Subdued! repeated the astonished Scot; let me tell you, Sir, that is a very strange hypothesis; the fruitless attempts of many centuries might have taught you that the thing is impossible; and, if you are conversant in history, you will find, that, after the decline of the Roman Empire, the course of conquest was from the North to the South. You mean, said the South Briton, that Scotland would have conquered England. Sir, replied the other, I think the English as brave a nation as ever existed, and therefore I will not say that the Scotch are braver; far less shall I assert, that they, consisting of only a fifth part of the numbers, could subdue the English; but I am sure, that rather than submit they would try; and you will admit that the trial would be no advantage to either country. Although I am fully convinced, said the Englishman, how the experiment would end, I should be sorry to see it made, particularly at this time. Yet, Sir, rejoined the Scot, there are people of your country, as I am told, who, even at this time, endeavour to exasperate the minds of the inhabitants of one part of Great Britain against the natives of the other, and to create dissension between two countries, whose mutual safety depends on their good agreement; two countries whom Nature herself, by separating them from the rest of the world, and encircling them with her azure bond of union, seems to have intended for one. I do assure you, my good Sir, said the English Gentleman, I am not of the number of those who wish to raise such dissension. I love the Scotch; I always thought them a sensible and gallant people; and some of the most valued friends I have on earth, are of your country. You are a man of honour and discernment, said the Caledonian, seizing him eagerly by the hand; and I protest, without prejudice or partiality, that I never knew a man of that character who was not of your way of thinking. 7 The intervening words are cold, and not much connected with the fine line which concludes the quotation. LETTER LXX. Florence. We arrived in this city the third day after leaving Rome, though I have delayed writing till now. I wished to know something of the place, and to be a little acquainted with the people. The last is not difficult; because the Florentines are naturally affable, and the hospitality and politeness of the British Minister afford his countrymen frequent opportunities of forming an acquaintance with the best company in Florence. This gentleman has been here about thirty years, and is greatly esteemed by the Florentines. It is probably owing to this circumstance, and to the magnificent stile in which some English Noblemen live, who have long resided here, that the English, in general, are favourites with the inhabitants of this place. Ld Crs conduct and disposition confirm them in the opinion they long have had of the goodnature and integrity of the nation to which he belongs. His Lady is of an amiable character, and affords them a very favourable specimen of English beauty. We have had no opportunity of seeing the Grand Duchess. She is of a domestic turn, and lives much in the country with her children, of which she has a comfortable number; but the Grand Duke having come to town for two days, we had the honour of being presented to him at the Palazzo Pitti. There is a striking resemblance of each other in all the branches of the Austrian family. Wherever I had met with the Grand Duke, I should immediately have known that he belonged to it. He, as well his brother who resides at Milan, has, in a remarkable degree, the thick lip; which has long been a distinguishing feature in the Austrian family. He is a handsome man, is rapid in his words and motions, and has more vivacity in his manner than either the Emperor or Archduke; like them, he is goodhumoured, condescending and affable. After the extinction of the Medici family, the Florentines grumbled on account of the disadvantage and inconveniency of having Sovereigns who did not reside among them. They exclaimed that their money was carried away to a distant country, and the most profitable offices at home filled by foreigners. They have now got a Sovereign who resides and spends his revenue among them, and has provided the State most plentifully in heirs; yet they still grumble. They complain of the taxesBut in what country of Europe is there not the same complaint? Florence is, unquestionably, a very beautiful city. Independent of the churches and palaces, some of which are very magnificent, the architecture of the houses in general is in a good taste, the streets are remarkably clean, and paved with large broad stones, chiseled so as to prevent the horses from sliding. This city is divided into two unequal parts by the river Arno, over which there are no less than four bridges in sight of each other. That called the Ponte della Trinit , is uncommonly elegant. It is built entirely of white marble, and ornamented with four beautiful statues, representing the Four Seasons. The quays, the buildings on each side, and the bridges, render that part of Florence through which the river runs, by far the finest. The same is the case at Paris; and it happens fortunately for those two cities, that those parts are almost constantly before the eye, on account of the necessity people are continually under of passing and repassing those bridges; whereas in London, whose river and bridges are far superior to any in France or Italy, people may live whole seasons, attend all the public amusements, and drive every day from one end of the town to the other, without ever seeing the Thames or the bridges, unless they go on purpose. For this reason, when a foreigner is asked which he thinks the finest city, Paris or London; the moment Paris is mentioned, the Louvre, and that striking part which is situated between the Pont Royal and Pont Neuf, presents itself to his imagination. He can recollect no part of London equal in magnificence to this; and ten to one, if he decides directly, it will be in favour of Paris: but if he takes a little more time, and compares the two capitals, street by street, square by square, and bridge with bridge, he will probably be of a different opinion. The number of inhabitants in Florence is calculated by some at eighty thousand. The streets, squares, and fronts of the palaces are adorned with a great number of statues; some of them by the best modern masters, Michael Angelo, Bandinelli, Donatello, Giovanni di Bologna, Benvenuto, Cellini, and others. A taste for the arts must be kept alive, independent almost of any other encouragement, in a city where so many specimens are continually before the eyes of the inhabitants. There are towns in Europe, where statues, exposed night and day within the reach of the common people, would run a great risque of being disfigured and mutilated; here they are as safe as if they were shut up in the Great Dukes gallery. Florence has been equally distinguished by a spirit for commerce and for the fine arts; two things which are not always united. Some of the Florentine merchants formerly were men of vast wealth, and lived in a most magnificent manner. One of them, about the middle of the fifteenth century, built that noble fabric, which, from the name of its founder, is still called the Palazzo Pitti. The man was ruined by the prodigious expence of this building, which was immediately purchased by the Medici family, and has continued, ever since, to be the residence of the Sovereigns. The gardens belonging to this palace are on the declivity of an eminence. On the summit there is a kind of fort, called Belvedere. From this, and from some of the higher walks, you have a complete view of the city of Florence, and the beauteous vale of Arno, in the middle of which it stands. The prospect is bounded on every side by an amphitheatre of fertile hills, adorned with countryhouses and gardens. In no part of Italy, that I have seen, are there so many villas, belonging to private persons, as in the neighbourhood of this city; the habitations of the peasants, likewise, seem much more neat and commodious. The country all around is divided into small farms, with a neat farmhouse on each. Tuscany produces a considerable quantity of corn, as well as excellent wine, and great quantities of silk. The peasants have a look of health and contentment: the natural beauty of the Italian countenance not being disgraced by dirt, or deformed by misery, the women in this country seem handsomer, and are, in reality, more blooming, than in other parts of Italy. When at work, or when they bring their goods to market, their hair is confined by a silk net, which is also much worn at Naples; but on holidays they dress in a very picturesque manner. They do not wear gowns, but a kind of jacket without sleeves. They have no other covering for the upper part of the arm but their shift sleeves, which are tied with riband. Their petticoats are generally of a scarlet colour. They wear earrings and necklaces. Their hair is adjusted in a becoming manner, and adorned with flowers. Above one ear they fix a little straw hat; and on the whole have a more gay, smart, coquetish air, than any countrygirls I ever saw. Churches, and palaces, and statues, are no doubt ornamental to a city; and the Princes are praiseworthy who have taken pains to rear and collect them; but the greatest of all ornaments are cheerful, happy, living countenances. The taste is not general; but, I thank God, I know some people who, to a perfect knowledge and unaffected love of the fine arts, join a passion for a collection of this kind, who cannot, without uneasiness, see one face in a different style, and whose lives and fortunes are employed in smoothing the corrosions of penury and misfortune, and restoring the original air of satisfaction and cheerfulness to the human countenance. Happy the people whose Sovereign is inspired with this species of virt! LETTER LXXI. Florence. I have generally, since our arrival at Florence, passed two hours every forenoon in the famous gallery. Connoisseurs, and those who wish to be thought such, remain much longer. But I plainly feel this is enough for me; and I do not think it worth while to prolong my visit after I begin to be tired, merely to be thought what I am not. Do not imagine, however, that I am blind to the beauties of this celebrated collection; by far the most valuable now in the world. One of the most interesting parts of it, in the eyes of many, is the series of Roman Emperors, from Julius Csar to Gallienus, with a considerable number of their Empresses, arranged opposite to them. This series is almost complete; but wherever the bust of an Emperor is wanting, the place is filled up by that of some other distinguished Roman. Such an honour is bestowed with great propriety on Seneca, Cicero, or Agrippa, the soninlaw of Augustus. But, on perceiving a head of Antinous, the favourite of Adrian, among them, a gentleman whispered me,that minion, pointing to the head, would not have been admitted into such company any where but in Florence. It ought, however, to be remembered, that the Gallery is not an gyptian court of judicature, where Princes are tried, after death, for crimes committed during their life. If the vices of originals had excluded their portraits, what would have become of the series of Roman Emperors, and particularly of the bust of the great Julius himself, who was husband to all the wives and    The gallery is sacred to art, and every production which she avows, has a right to a place here. Amidst those noble specimens of ancient sculpture, some of the works of Michael Angelo are not thought undeserving a place. His Bacchus and Faunus, of which the wellknown story is told, have been by some preferred to the two antique figures representing the same. The beautiful head of Alexander is universally admired by all the virtuosi; though they differ in opinion with regard to the circumstance in which the sculptor has intended to represent that hero. Some imagine he is dying; Mr. Addison imagines he sighs for new worlds to conquer; others that he faints with pain and loss of blood from the wounds he received at Oxydrace. Others think the features express not bodily pain or languor, but sorrow and remorse, for having murdered his faithful friend Clitus. You see how very uncertain a business this of a virtuoso is. I can hardly believe that the artist intended simply to represent him dying; there was nothing very creditable in the manner he brought on his death. Nor do I think he would choose to represent him moaning, or languishing with pain or sickness; there is nothing heroic in that; nor do we sympathise so readily with the pains of the body, as with those of the mind. As for the story of his weeping for new worlds, he will excite still less sympathy, if that is the cause of his affliction. The last conjecture, therefore, that the artist intended to represent him in a violent fit of remorse, is the most probable. The unfinished bust of Marcus Brutus, by Michael Angelo, admirably expresses the determined firmness of character which belonged to that virtuous Roman. The artist, while he wrought at this, seems to have had in his mind Horaces Ode Justum et tenacem propositi virum Non civium ardor prava jubentium, Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solid, c. This would, in my opinion, be a more suitable inscription for the bust, than the concetto of Cardinal Bembo, which is at present under it8. Michael Angelo, in all probability was pleased with the expression he had already given the features, and chose to leave it as an unfinished sketch, rather than risk weakening it by an attempt to improve it. The virtuosi differ in opinion respecting the Arrotino, or Whetter, as much as about the head of Alexander. A young gentleman said to an antiquarian, while he contemplated the Arrotino, I believe, Sir, it is imagined that this statue was intended for the slave, who, while he was whetting his knife, overheard Catilines conspiracy.That is the vulgar opinion, said the other; but the statue was, in reality, done for a peasant, who discovered the plot into which the two sons of Junius Brutus entered for the restoration of Tarquin. I ask pardon, Sir, said the young man; but although one may easily see that the figure listens with the most exquisite expression of attention, yet I should think it very difficult to delineate in the features, whether the listener heard a conspiracy, or any thing else which greatly interested him, and absolutely impossible to mark, by any expression of countenance, what particular conspiracy he is hearing. Your observation is just, young man, said the antiquarian, when applied to modern artists, but entirely the reverse when applied to the ancient. Now, for my own part, I plainly perceive in that mans countenance, and after you have studied those matters as profoundly as I have done you will see the same, that it is the conspiracy for the restoration of Tarquin, and no other plot whatever, which he listens to; as for Catilines conspiracy, it is not possible he could know any thing about it; for, good God! people ought to reflect, that the man must have been dead four hundred years before Catiline was born. As we are now in the famous octogonal room, called Tribuna, I ought, if I had any thing new to say, to descant a little on the distinguishing excellencies of the Dancing Faun, the Wrestlers, the Venus Urania, the Venus Victrix; and I would most willingly pay the poor tribute of my praise to that charming figure known by the name of Venus de Medicis. Yet, in the midst of all my admiration, I confess I do not think her equal to her brother Apollo in the Vatican. In that sublime figure, to the most perfect features and proportions, is joined an air which seems more than human. The Medicean Venus is unquestionably a perfect model of female beauty; but while Apollo appears more than a man, the Venus seems precisely a beautiful woman. In the same room are many valuable curiosities, besides a collection of admirable pictures by the best masters. I do not know whether any are more excellent of their kind, but I am convinced none are more attentively considered than the two Venuses of Titian; one is said to be a portrait of his wife, the other of his mistress. The first is the fined portrait I ever saw, except the second; of this you have seen many copies: though none of them equals the beauty of the original, yet they will give a juster idea of it than any description of mine could. On the back ground, two women seem searching for something in a trunk. This episode is found much fault with; for my part, I see no great harm the two poor women do: none but those critics who search more eagerly after deformity than beauty, will take any notice of them. Besides the Gallery and Tribuna, the hundredth part of whose treasures I have not particularised, there are other rooms, whose contents are indicated by the names they bear; as, the Cabinet of Arts, of Astronomy, of Natural History, of Medals, of Porcelain, of Antiquities, and the Saloon of the Hermaphrodite, so called from a statue which divides the admiration of the Amateurs with that in the Borghese village at Rome. The excellence of the execution is disgraced by the vileness of the subject. We are surprised how the Greeks and Romans could take pleasure in such unnatural figures; in this particular their taste seems to have been as depraved, as in general it was elegant and refined. In this room there is a collection of drawings by some of the greatest masters, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Andrea del Sarto, and others. There is, in particular, a sketch of the Last Judgment by the firstnamed of these painters, different, and, in the opinion of some, designed with more judgment, than his famous picture on the same subject in Sixtus the Fourths chapel in the Vatican. The large room, called the Gallery of Portraits, is not the least curious in this vast Musum. It contains the portraits, all executed by themselves, of the most eminent painters who have flourished in Europe during the three last centuries. They amount to above two hundred; those of Rubens, Vandyke, Rembrandt, and Guido, were formerly the most esteemed; two have been added lately, which vie with the finest in this collectionthose of Mengs and Sir Joshua Reynolds. The portrait of Raphael seems to have been done when he was young; it is not equal to any of the above. The Electress Dowager of Saxony has made a valuable addition to this collection, by sending her own portrait painted by herself; she is at full length, with the palette and pencils in her hands. Coreggio, after hearing the picture of St. Cecilia at Bologna cried up as a prodigy, and the ne plus ultra of art, went to see it; and conscious that there was nothing in it that required the exertion of greater powers than he felt within himself, he was overheard to say, Anch io sono pittore. This illustrious princess was also conscious of her powers when she painted this portrait, which seems to pronounce to the spectators, Anch io sono pittrice. 8 Dum Bruti effigiem Michael de marmore fingit, In mentem sceleris venit, et abstinuit. LETTER LXXII. Florence. Having now crossed from the Adriatic to the Mediterranean, and travelled through a considerable part of Italy, I acknowledge I have been agreeably disappointed in finding the state of the poorer part of the inhabitants less wretched than, from the accounts of some travellers, I imagined it was; and I may with equal truth add, that although I have not seen so much poverty as I was taught to expect, yet I have seen far more poverty than misery. Even the extremity of indigence is accompanied with less wretchedness here than in many other countries. This is partly owing to the mildness of the climate and fertility of the soil, and partly to the peaceable, religious, and contented disposition of the people. The miseries which the poorer part of mankind suffer from cold, are, perhaps, greater than those derived from any other source whatever. But in Italy, the gentleness of the climate protects them from this calamity nine months of the year. If they can gather as much wood as to keep a moderate fire during the remaining three, and procure a coarse cloke, they have little to fear from that quarter. Those who cannot get employment, which is often the case in this country, and even those who do not choose to work, which is the case with numbers all the world over, receive a regular maintenance from some convent: with this, and what little they can pick up otherwise, in a country where provisions are plentiful and cheap, they pass through life, in their own opinion, with more satisfaction than if they had a greater number of conveniencies procured by much bodily labour. Whereas in Great Britain, Germany, and other northern countries, the poor have no choice but to work; for if they remain idle, they are exposed to miseries more intolerable than the hardest labour can occasion to the laziest of mankind; they are invaded at once by the accumulated agonies of hunger and cold; and if they have ever had sufficient credit to contract a little debt, they are continually in danger of being thrown into a jail among pickpockets and felons. With respect to the lowest of the tradespeople and the daylabourers in this country, their wages are certainly not high; nor are they willing, by great efforts of industry, to gain all they might; but what they do gain is never wasted in intemperance, but fairly spent in their families on the real necessaries and comforts of life. The Italians are the greatest loungers in the world, and while walking in the fields, or stretched in the shade, seem to enjoy the serenity and genial warmth of their climate with a degree of luxurious indulgence peculiar to themselves. Without ever running into the daring excesses of the English, or displaying the frisky vivacity of the French, or the invincible phlegm of the Germans, the Italian populace discover a species of sedate sensibility to every source of enjoyment, from which, perhaps, they derive a greater degree of happiness than any of the other. The frequent processions and religious ceremonies, besides amusing and comforting them, serve to fill up their time, and prevent that ennui and those immoral practices which are apt to accompany poverty and idleness. It is necessary, for the quiet and happiness of every community, that the populace be employed. Some politicians imagine, that their whole time should be spent in gainful industry. Others think, that though the riches of the state will not be augmented, yet the general happiness, which is a more important object, will be promoted by blending the occupations of industry with a considerable proportion of such superstitious ceremonies as awaken the future hopes, without lulling the present benevolence, of the multitude; but nobody can doubt, that in countries where, from whatever cause, industry does not prevail, processions and other rites of the same nature will tend to restrain the populace from the vices, and of consequence prevent some of the miseries of idleness. The peasantry of this country are unquestionably in a more comfortless state than a benevolent mind could wish them. But, England and Switzerland excepted, is not this the case all over Europe? In all the countries I have seen, or had an account of, the husbandmen, probably the most virtuous, but certainly the most useful part of the community, whose labour and industry maintain all the rest, and in whom the real strength of the state resides, are, by a most unjust dispensation, generally the poorest and most oppressed. But although the Italian peasantry are by no means in the affluent, independent situation of the peasantry of Switzerland, and the tenantry of England, yet they are not subjected to the same oppressions with those of Germany, nor are they so poor as those of France. Great part of the lands in Italy belong to convents; and I have observed, and have been assured by those who have the best opportunities of knowing, that the tenants of these communities are happier, and live more at their ease, than those of a great part of the nobility. The revenues of convents are usually well managed, and never allowed to be squandered away by the folly or extravagance of any of its members; consequently the community is not driven, by craving and threatening creditors, as individuals frequently are, to squeeze out of their vassals the means of supplying the waste occasioned by their own vanity and expence. A convent can have no incitement to severe and oppressive exactions from the peasants, except sheer avarice; a passion which never rises to such a height in a society where the revenue is in common, as in the breast of an individual, who is solely to reap the fruits of his own oppression. The stories which circulate in Protestant countries, concerning the scandalous debauchery of monks, and the luxurious manner in which they live in their convents, whatever truth there may have been in them formerly, are certainly now in a great measure without foundation. I remember when I was at the Grande Chartreuse, near Grenoble, which has a considerable district of land belonging to it, I was informed, and this information was confirmed by what I saw, that those monks were gentle and generous masters, and that their tenants were envied by all the peasantry around, on account of the treatment they received, and the comparatively easy terms on which they held their farms. From the enquiries I have made in France, Germany, and Italy, I am convinced that this is usually the case with those peasants who belong to convent lands; and very often, I have been informed, besides having easy rents, they also find affectionate friends and protectors in their masters, who visit them in sickness, comfort them in all distresses, and are of service to their families in various shapes. I have been speaking hitherto of the peasantry belonging to convents; but I believe I might extend the remark to the tenants of ecclesiastics in general, though they are often represented as more proud and oppressive masters than any class of men whatever; an aspersion which may have gained credit the more easily on this account, that instances of cruelty and oppression in ecclesiastics strike more, and raise a greater indignation, than the same degree of wickedness in other men; they raise a greater indignation, because they are more unbecoming of clergymen, and they strike more when they do happen, because they happen seldomer. The ambition of Popes some centuries ago, when the Court of Rome was in its zenith, the unlimited influence and power which particular Churchmen acquired in England and France, had those effects upon their actions and characters, which ambition and power usually have on the characters of men; it rendered them insolent, unfeeling, and persecuting. Yet, for every cruel and tyrannical Pope that history has recorded, it will be easy to name two or three Roman Emperors who have surpassed them in every species of wickedness; and England and France have had Prime Ministers with all the vices, without the abilities, of Wolsey and Richelieu. Those who declaim against the wickedness of the clergy, seem to take it for granted that this body of men were the authors of the most horrid instances of persecution, massacre, and tyranny, over mens consciences, that are recorded in the annals of mankind; yet Philip II., Charles IX. and Henry VIII. were not Churchmen; and the capricious tyranny of Henry, the frantic fury of Charles, and the persevering cruelty of Philip, seem to have proceeded from the personal characters of these Monarchs, or to have been excited by what they considered as their political interest, rather than by the suggestions of their Clergy. As the subjects of the Ecclesiastical State are perhaps the poorest in Italy, this has been imputed to the rapacious disposition which some assert is natural to Churchmen. This poverty, however, may be otherwise accounted for. Bishop Burnet very judiciously observes, that the subjects of a government, which is at once despotic and elective, labour under peculiar disadvantages; for an hereditary Prince will naturally have considerations for his people which an elective one will not, unless he has a degree of generosity not common among men, and least of all among Italians, who have a passion for their families which is not known in other places9. An elective Prince, knowing that it is only during his reign that his family can receive any benefit from it, makes all the haste he can to enrich them. To this it may be added, that as Popes generally arrive at Sovereignty at an age when avarice predominates in the human breast, they may be supposed to have a stronger bias than other Princes to that sordid passion; and even when this does not take place, their needy relations are continually prompting them to acts of oppression, and suggesting ways and means of squeezing the people. Other causes might be assigned; but, that it does not originate from the imputation above mentioned, seems evident from this, that the peasants of particular ecclesiastics, and of the convents in the Popes dominions, as well as in other countries, are generally less oppressed than those of the lay lords and princes. From what has been thrown out by some celebrated wits, and the commonplace invective of those who affect that character, one would be led to imagine that there is something in the nature of the clerical profession which has a tendency to render men proud and oppressive. Such indiscriminating censure carries no conviction to my mind, because it is contradicted by the experience I have had in life, and by the observations, such as they are, which I have been able to make on human nature. I do not mean, in imitation of the satirists above mentioned, to put the Clergy of all religions on the same footing. My opportunities of knowledge are too slender to justify that; my acquaintance with this order of men having been in a great measure confined to those of the Protestant Church, men of learning and ingenuity, of quiet, speculative, and benevolent dispositions; it is usually, indeed, this turn of mind which has inclined them to the ecclesiastical profession. But though my acquaintance with the Roman Catholic Clergy is very limited, yet the few I do know could not be mentioned as exceptions to what I have just said of the Protestant; and, exclusive of all personal knowledge of the men, it is natural to think that the habitual performance of the ceremonies of the Christian religion, though intermingled with some superstitious rites, and the preaching the doctrines of benevolence and goodwill towards men, must have some influence on the lives and characters of those who are thus employed. It is a common error, prevailing in Protestant countries, to imagine that the Roman Catholic Clergy laugh at the religion they inculcate, and regard their flocks as the dupes of an artful plan of imposition. By far the greater part of Roman Catholic priests and monks are themselves most sincere believers, and teach the doctrines of Christianity, and all the miracles of the legend, with a perfect conviction of their divinity and truth. The few who were behind the curtain when falsehood was first embroidered upon truth, and those who have at different periods been the authors of all the masks and interludes which have enriched the grand drama of superstition, have always chosen to employ such men, being sensible that the inferior actors would perform their parts more perfectly, by acting from nature and real conviction. Paulum interesse censes, says Davus to Mysis, ex animo omnia ut fert natura, facias an de industria10. The accounts we receive of their gluttony, are often as illfounded as those of their infidelity. The real character of the majority of monks and inferior ecclesiastics, both in France and Italy, is that of a simple, superstitious, wellmeaning race of men, who for the most part live in a very abstemious and mortified manner, notwithstanding what we have heard of their gluttony, their luxury, and voluptuousness. Such accusations are frequently thrown out by those who are ill entitled to make them. I remember being in company with an acquaintance of yours, who is distinguished for the delicacy of his table and the length of his repasts, from which he seldom retires without a bottle of Burgundy for his own share, not to mention two or three glasses of Champaign between the courses. We had dined a few miles from the town in which we then lived, and were returning in his chariot; it was winter, and he was wrapped in fur to the nose. As we drove along, we met two friars walking through the snow; little threads of icicles hung from their beards; their legs and the upper part of their feet were bare, but their soles were defended from the snow by wooden sandals. There goes a couple of dainty rogues, cried your friend as we drew near them; only think of the folly of permitting such lazy, luxurious rascals to live in a State, and eat up the portion of the poor. I will engage that those two scoundrels, as lean and mortified as they look, will devour more victuals in a day, than would maintain two industrious families. He continued railing against the luxury of those two friars, and afterwards expatiated upon the epicurism of the clergy in general; who, he said, were all alike in every country, and of every religion. When we arrived in town, he told me he had ordered a little nice supper to be got ready at his house by the time of our return, and had lately got some excellent wine, inviting me at the same time to go home with him; for, continued he, as we have driven three miles in such weather, we stand in great need of some refreshment. That in all Roman Catholic countries, and particularly in Italy, the clergy are too numerous, have too much power, too great a proportion of the lands, and that some of them live in great pomp and luxury, is undeniable. That the common people would be in a better situation, if manufactures and the spirit of industry could be introduced among them, is equally true; but, even as things are, I cannot help thinking that the state of the Italian peasantry is preferable, in many respects, to that of the peasants of many other countries in Europe. They are not beaten by their ecclesiastical lords, as those of Germany are by their masters, on every real or imaginary offence. They have not their children torn from them, to be sacrificed to the pomp, avarice, or ambition of some military despot; nor are they themselves pressed into the service as soldiers for life. In England and in France the people take an interest in all national disputes, and consider the cause of their country or their Prince as their own; they enter into the service voluntarily, and fight with ardour for the glory of the country or King they love. Those ideas enable them to submit to a thousand hardships without repining, and they feel the sensations of happiness in the midst of toil, want, and danger. But in Germany, where the passions are annihilated, and a man is modelled into a machine before he is thought a good soldier, where his blood is sold by the Prince to the highest bidder, where he has no quarrel with the enemy he murders, and no allegiance to the Monarch for whom he fights, the being liable to be forced into such a service, is one of the most dreadful of all calamities. Yet a regiment of such compelled soldiers, dressed in gaudy uniform, and powdered for a review, with music sounding and colours flying, makes a far more brilliant appearance than a cluster of peasants with their wives and children upon a holiday. But if we could examine the breasts of the individuals, we should find in those of the former nothing but the terror of punishment, hatred of their officers, distrust of each other, and life itself supported only by the hope of desertion; while the bosoms of the latter are filled with all the affections of humanity, undisturbed by fear or remorse. 9 Vide Bishop Burnets Travels. 10 Andria Terentii. LETTER LXXIII. Florence. Society seems to be on an easy and agreeable footing in this city. Besides the conversazionis which they have here, as in other towns of Italy, a number of the nobility meet every day at a house called the Casino. This society is pretty much on the same footing with the clubs in London. The members are elected by ballot. They meet at no particular hour, but go at any time that is convenient. They play at billiards, cards, and other games, or continue conversing the whole evening, as they think proper. They are served with tea, coffee, lemonade, ices, or what other refreshments they choose; and each person pays for what he calls for. There is one material difference between this and the English clubs, that women as well as men are members. The company of both sexes behave with more frankness and familiarity to strangers, as well as to each other, than is customary in public assemblies in other parts of Italy. The Opera at Florence is a place where the people of quality pay and receive visits, and converse as freely as at the Casino above mentioned. This occasions a continual passing and repassing to and from the boxes, except in those where there is a party of cards formed; it is then looked on as a piece of ill manners to disturb the players. I never was more surprised, than when it was proposed to me to make one of a whist party, in a box which seemed to have been made for the purpose, with a little table in the middle. I hinted that it would be full as convenient to have the party somewhere else; but I was told, good music added greatly to the pleasure of a whist party; that it increased the joy of good fortune, and soothed the affliction of bad. As I thought the people of this country better acquainted than myself with the power of music, I contested the point no longer; but have generally played two or three rubbers at whist in the stagebox every opera night. From this you may guess, that, in this city, as in some other towns in Italy, little attention is paid to the music by the company in the boxes, except at a new opera, or during some favourite air. But the dancers command a general attention: as soon as they begin, conversation ceases; even the cardplayers lay down their cards, and fix their eyes on the Ballette. Yet the excellence of Italian dancing seems to consist in feats of strength, and a kind of jerking agility, more than in graceful movement. There is a continual contest among the performers, who shall spring highest. You see here none of the sprightly, alluring gaiety of the French comic dancers, nor of the graceful attitudes, and smooth flowing motions of the performers in the serious opera at Paris. It is surprising, that a people of such taste and sensibility as the Italians, should prefer a parcel of athletic jumpers to elegant dancers. On the evenings on which there is no opera, it is usual for the genteel company to drive to a public walk immediately without the city, where they remain till it begins to grow duskish. Soon after our arrival at Florence, in one of the avenues of this walk we observed two men and two ladies, followed by four servants in livery. One of the men wore the insignia of the garter. We were told this was the Count Albany, and that the Lady next to him was the Countess. We yielded the walk, and pulled off our hats. The gentleman along with them was the Envoy from the King of Prussia to the Court of Turin. He whispered the Count, who, returning the salutation, looked very earnestly at the D of H. We have seen them almost every evening since, either at the opera or on the public walk. His Gdoes not affect to shun the avenue in which they happen to be; and as often as we pass near them, the Count fixes his eyes in a most expressive manner upon the D, as if he meant to sayour ancestors were better acquainted. You know, I suppose, that the Count Albany is the unfortunate Charles Stuart, who left Rome some time since on the death of his father, because the Pope did not think proper to acknowledge him by the title which he claimed on that event. He now lives at Florence, on a small revenue allowed him by his brother. The Countess is a beautiful woman, much beloved by those who know her, who universally describe her as lively, intelligent, and agreeable. Educated as I was in Revolution principles, and in a part of Scotland where the religion of the Stuart family, and the maxims by which they governed, are more reprobated than perhaps in any part of Great Britain, I could not behold this unfortunate person without the warmest emotion and sympathy. What must a mans feelings be, who finds himself excluded from the most brilliant situation, and noblest inheritance that this world affords, and reduced to an humiliating dependance on those, who, in the natural course of events, should have looked up to him for protection and support? What must his feelings be, when on a retrospective view he beholds a series of calamities attending his family, that is without example in the annals of the unfortunate; calamities, of which those they experienced after their accession to the throne of England, were only a continuation? Their misfortunes began with their royalty, adhered to them through ages, increased with the increase of their dominions, did not forsake them when dominion was no more; and, as he has reason to dread, from his own experience, are not yet terminated. It will afford no alleviation or comfort, to recollect that part of this black list of calamities arose from the imprudence of his ancestors; and that many gallant men, in England, Scotland, and Ireland, have at different periods been involved in their ruin. Our sympathy for this unfortunate person is not checked by any blame which can be thrown on himself. He surely had no share in the errors of the first Charles, the profligacy of the second, or the impolitic and bigotted attempts of James against the laws and established religion of Great Britain and Ireland; therefore, whilst I contemplate with approbation and gratitude the conduct of those patriots who resisted and expelled that infatuated monarch, ascertained the rights of the subject, and settled the constitution of Great Britain on the firm basis of freedom on which it has stood ever since the Revolution, and on which I hope it will ever stand, yet I freely acknowledge, that I never could see the unfortunate Count Albany without sentiments of compassion, and the most lively sympathy. I write with the more warmth, as I have heard of some of our countrymen, who, during their tours through Italy, made the humble state to which he is reduced a frequent theme of ridicule, and who, as often as they met him in public, affected to pass by with an air of sneering insult. The motive to this is as base and abject as the behaviour is unmanly; those who endeavour to make misfortune an object of ridicule, are themselves the objects of detestation. A British nobleman or gentleman has certainly no occasion to form an intimacy with the Count Albany; but while he appears under that name, and claims no other title, it is ungenerous, on every accidental meeting, not to behave to him with the respect due to a man of high rank, and the delicacy due to a man highly unfortunate. One thing is certain; that the same disposition which makes men insolent to the weak, renders them slaves to the powerful; and those who are most apt to treat this unfortunate person with an ostentatious contempt at Florence, would have been his most abject flatterers at St. Jamess. LETTER LXXIV. Florence. In a country where men are permitted to speak and write without restraint on the measures of government; where almost every citizen may flatter himself with the hopes of becoming a part of the legislature; where eloquence, popular talents, and political intrigues, lead to honours, and open a broad road to wealth and power; men, after the first glow of youth is past, are more obedient to the loud voice of ambition than to the whispers of love. But in despotic states, and in monarchies which verge towards despotism, where the will of the prince is law; or, which amounts nearly to the same thing, where the law yields to the will of the prince; where it is dangerous to speak or write on general politics, and death or imprisonment to censure the particular measures of government; love becomes a first, instead of being a secondary object; for ambition is, generally speaking, a more powerful passion than love; and on this account women are the objects of greater attention and respect in despotic than in free countries. That species of address to women which is now called gallantry, was, if I am not mistaken, unknown to the ancient Greeks and Romans; nothing like it appears in any of Terences comedies, where one would naturally expert to find it, if any such thing had existed when they were written. It now prevails, in some degree, in every country of Europe, but appears in different forms according to the different characters, customs, and manners, of the various countries. In the courts of Germany it is a formal piece of business; etiquette governs the arrows of Cupid, as well as the torch of Hymen. Mistresses are chosen from the number of quarters on their family coats of arms, as well as from the number of their personal charms; and those ladies who are well provided in the first, seldom are without lovers, however deficient they may be in the second. But though many avenues, which in England lead to power and distinction, are shut up in Germany, and the whole power of government is vested in the sovereign, yet the young nobility cannot bestow a great deal of their time in gallantry. The military profession, which in the time of peace is perfect idleness in France and England, is a very serious, unremitting employment in Germany. Men who are continually drilling soldiers, and whose fortunes and reputations depend on the expertness of the troops under their command, cannot pay a great deal of attention to the ladies. Every French gentleman must be a soldier; but fighting is the only part of the business they go through with spirit; they cannot submit to the German precision in discipline, their souls sink under the tediousness of a campaign, and they languish for a battle from the impetuosity of their disposition, and impatience to have the matter decided one way or the other. This, with many particular exceptions, is the general style of the French noblesse; they all serve an apprenticeship to war, but gallantry is the profession they follow for life. In England, the spirit of play and of party draws the minds of the young men of fortune from love or gallantry; those who spend their evenings at a gaming house, or in parliament, seldom think of any kind of women but such as may be had without trouble; and, of course, women of character are less attended to than in some other countries. When I was last at Paris, the Marquis de F found an English newspaper on my table; it contained a long and particular account of a debate which had happened in both houses of parliament; he read it with great attention while I finished a letter, and then throwing down the paper, he said to me, Mais, mon ami, pendant que vos messieurs samusent a jaser comme cela dans votre chambre des pairs et votre parlement11, parbleu un etranger auroit beau jeu avec leurs femmes. Intrigues of gallantry, comparatively speaking, occur seldom in England; and when they do, they generally proceed from a violent passion, to which every consideration of fortune and reputation is sacrificed, and the business concludes in a flight to the continent, or a divorce. They manage matters otherwise in France; you hardly ever hear of flights or divorces in that country; a hundred new arrangements are made, and as many old ones broken, in a week at Paris, without noise or scandal; all is conducted quietly et felon les rgles; the fair sex are the universal objects of respect and adoration, and yet there is no such thing as constancy in the nation. Wit, beauty, and every accomplishment united in one woman, could not fix the volatility of a Frenchman; the love of variety, and the vanity of new conquests, would make him abandon this phnix for birds far less rare and estimable. The women in France, who are full of spirit and sensibility, could never endure such usage, if they were not as fickle and as fond of new conquests as their lovers. In Italy, such levity is viewed with contempt, and constancy is, by both sexes, still classed among the virtues. That high veneration for the fair sex which prevailed in the ages of chivalry, continued long after in the form of a sentimental platonic kind of gallantry. Every man of ingenuity chose unto himself a mistress, and directly proclaimed her beauty and her cruelty in love ditties, madrigals, and elegies, without expecting any other recompence than the reputation of a constant lover and a good poet. By the mere force of imagination, and the eloquence of their own metaphysical sonnets, they became persuaded that their mistresses were possessed of every accomplishment of face and mind, and that themselves were dying for love. As in those days women were constantly guarded by their fathers and brothers before marriage, and watched and confined by their husbands for the rest of their lives; the refined passions above described were not exposed to the same accidents which so frequently befal those of modern lovers; they could neither fall into a decay from a more perfect knowledge of the ladies character, nor were they liable to sudden death from enjoyment. But whilst the women were adored in song, they were miserable in reality; confinement and distrust made them detest their husbands, and they endeavoured to form connections with men more to their taste than either jealous husbands or metaphysical lovers. To treat a woman of character as if she were an unprincipled wanton, is the most likely way to make her one. In those days of jealousy, a continual trial of skill seems to have subsisted between husband and wife, as if every lord, soon after marriage, had told his lady, Now, Madam, I know perfectly well what you would be at; but it is my business to prevent you: Ill guard you so well, and watch you so closely, that it shall never be in your power to gratify your inclinations. You are perfectly in the right, my lord, replied the lady, with all meekness, pray guard and watch as your wisdom shall direct; I, also, shall be vigilant on my part, and we shall see how the business will end. The business generally did end as might have been expected; and the only consolation left the husband was, to endeavour to assassinate the happy lover. But when French manners began to spread over Europe, and to insinuate themselves among nations the most opposite in character to the French, jealousy was first held up as the most detestable of all the passions. The law had long declared against its dismal effects, and awful denunciations had been pronounced from the pulpit against those who were inflamed by its bloody spirit; but without effect, till ridicule joined in the argument, and exposed those husbands to the contempt and derision of every fashionable society, who harboured the gloomy dmon in their bosoms. As in England, after the Restoration, people, to shew their aversion to the Puritans, turned every appearance of religion into ridicule, and from the extreme of hypocrisy flew at once to that of profligacy; so in Italy, from the custom of secluding the wife from all mankind but her husband, it became the fashion that she should never be seen with her husband, and yet always have a man at her elbow. I shall conclude what I have to say on this subject in my next. 11 The French in general are apt to make the same mistake with the Marquis; they often speak of the House of Peers and the Parliament as two distinct assemblies. LETTER LXXV. Florence. Before the Italian husbands could adopt or reconcile their minds to a custom so opposite to their former practice, they took some measures to secure a point which they had always thought of the highest importance. Finding that confinement was a plan generally reprobated, and that any appearance of jealousy subjected the husband to ridicule, they agreed that their wives should go into company and attend public places, but always attended by a friend whom they could trust, and who, at the same time, should not be disagreeable to the wife. This compromise could not fail of being acceptable to the women, who plainly perceived that they must be gainers by any alteration of the former system; and it soon became universal all over Italy, for the women to appear at public places leaning upon the arm of a man; who, from their frequently whispering together, was called her Cicisbeo. It was stipulated, at the same time, that the lady, while abroad under his care, should converse with no other man but in his presence, and with his approbation; he was to be her guardian, her friend, and gentlemanusher. The custom at present is, that this obsequious gentleman visits the lady every forenoon at the toilet, where the plan for passing the evening is agreed upon; he disappears before dinner, for it is usual all over Italy for the husband and wife to dine together tte tte, except on great occasions, as when there is a public feast. After dinner the husband retires, and the Cicisbeo returns and conducts the lady to the public walk, the conversazion, or the opera; he hands her about wherever she goes, presents her coffee, sorts her cards, and attends with the most pointed assiduity till the amusements of the evening are over; he accompanies her home, and delivers up his charge to the husband, who is then supposed to resume his functions. From the nature of this connection, it could not be an easy matter to find a Cicisbeo who would be equally agreeable to the husband and wife. At the beginning of the institution, the husbands, as I have been informed, preferred the platonic swains, who professed only the metaphysicks of love, and whose lectures, they imagined, might refine their wives ideas, and bring them to the same way of thinking; in many instances, no doubt, it would happen, that the platonic admirer asked with less seraphic ends; but these instances serve only as proofs that the husbands were mistaken in their men; for however absurd it may appear in the eyes of some people, to imagine that the husbands believe it is only a platonic connection which subsists between their wives and the Cicisbeos; it is still more absurd to believe, as some strangers who have passed through this country seem to have done, that this whole system of Cicisbeism was from the beginning, and is now, an universal system of adultery connived at by every Italian husband. To get clear of one difficulty, those gentlemen fall into another much more inexplicable; by supposing that the men, who of all the inhabitants of Europe were the most scrupulous with regard to their wives chastity, should acquiesce in, and in a manner become subservient to, their prostitution. In support of this strange doctrine, they assert, that the husbands being the Cicisbeos of other women, cannot enjoy this privilege on any other terms; and are therefore contented to sacrifice their wives for the sake of their mistresses. That some individuals may be profligate enough to act in this manner, I make no doubt. Similar arrangements we hear instances of in every country; but that such a system is general, or any thing near it, in Italy, seems to me perfectly incredible, and is contrary to the best information I have received since I have been here. It is also urged, that most of the married men of quality in Italy act in the character of Cicisbeo to some woman or other; and those who are not Platonic lovers, ought to suspect that the same liberties are taken with their wives which they take with the spouses of their neighbours; and therefore their suffering a man to visit their wives in the character of a cavaliero servente, is in effect conniving at their own cuckoldom. But this does not follow as an absolute consequence; for men have a wonderful faculty of deceiving themselves on such occasions. So great is the infatuation of their vanity, that the same degree of complaisance, which they consider as the effect of a very natural and excusable weakness, when indulged by any woman for themselves, they would look on as a horrible enormity if admitted by their wives for another man; so that whatever degree of licentiousness may exist in consequence of this system, I am convinced the majority of husbands make exceptions in their own favour, and that their ladies find means to satisfy each individual that he is not involved in a calamity, which, after all, is more general in other countries, as well as Italy, than it ought. Even when there is the greatest harmony and love between the husband and wife, and although each would prefer the others company to any other, still, such is the tyranny of fashion, they must separate every evening; he to play the cavaliero servente to another woman, and she to be led about by another man. Notwithstanding this inconveniency, the couples who are in this predicament are certainly happier than those whose affections are not centered at home. Some very loving couples lament the cruelty of this separation, yet the world in general seem to be of opinion, that a man and his wife who dine together every day, and lie together every night, may, with a proper exertion of philosophy, be able to support being asunder a few hours in the evening. The Cicisbeo, in many instances, is a poor relation or humble friend, who, not being in circumstances to support an equipage, is happy to be admitted into all the societies, and to be carried about to public diversions, as an appendage to the lady. I have known numbers of those gentlemen, whose appearance and bodily infirmities carried the clearest refutation, with respect to themselves personally, of the scandalous stories of an improper connection between cavaliero serventes and their mistresses. I never in my life saw men more happily formed, both in body and mind, for saving the reputation of the females with whom they were on a footing of intimacy. The humble and timid air which many of them betray in the presence of the ladies, and the perseverance with which they continue their services, notwithstanding the contemptuous stile in which they are often treated, is equally unlike the haughtiness natural to favoured lovers, and the indifference of men satiated with enjoyment. There are, it must be confessed, Cicisbeos of a very different stamp, whose figure and manners might be supposed more agreeable to the ladies they serve, than to their lords. I once expressed my surprise, that a particular person permitted one of this description to attend his wife. I was told, by way of solution of my difficulty, that the husband was poor, and the Cicisbeo rich. It is not in Italy only where infamous compromises of this nature take place. I have also known instances, since I have been in this country, where the characters of the ladies were so well established, as not to be shaken either in the opinion of their acquaintances or husbands, although their cavaliero serventes were in every respect agreeable and accomplished. But whether the connection between them is supposed innocent or criminal, most Englishmen will be astonished how men can pass so much of their time with women. This, however, will appear less surprising, when they recollect that the Italian nobility dare not intermeddle in politics; can find no employment in the army or navy; and that there are no such amusements in the country as hunting or drinking. In such a situation, if a man of fortune has no turn for gaming, what can he do? Even an Englishman, in those desperate circumstances, might be driven to the company and conversation of women, to lighten the burden of time. The Italians have persevered so long in this expedient, that, however extraordinary it may seem to those who have never tried it, there can be no doubt that they find it to succeed. They tell you, that nothing so effectually sooths the cares, and beguiles the tediousness of life, as the company of an agreeable woman; that though the intimacy should never exceed the limits of friendship, there is something more flattering and agreeable in it than in male friendships; that they find the female heart more sincere, less interested, and warmer in its attachments; that women in general have more delicacy, and. Well, well, all this may be true, you will say; but may not a man enjoy all these advantages, to as great perfection, by an intimacy and friendship with his own wife, as with his neighbours? Non, Monsieur, point du tout, answered a Frenchman, to whom this question was once addressed. Et pourquoi donc? Parceque cela nest pas permis. This you will not think a very satisfactory answer to so natural and so pertinent a questionIt is not the fashion! This, however, was the only answer I received all over Italy. This system is unknown to the middle and lower ranks; they pass their time in the exercise of their professions, and in the society of their wives and children, as in other countries; and in that sphere of life, jealousy, which formed so strong a feature of the Italian character, is still to be found as strong as ever. He who attempts to visit the wife or mistress of any of the tradespeople without their permission, is in no small danger of a Coltellata. I have often heard it asserted, that Italian women have remarkable powers of attaching their lovers. Those powers, whatever they are, do not seem to depend entirely on personal charms, as many of them retain their ancient influence over their lovers after their beauty is much in the wane, and they themselves are considerably advanced in the vale of years. I know an Italian nobleman, of great fortune, who has been lately married to a very beautiful young woman, and yet he continues his assiduity to his former mistress, now an old woman, as punctually as ever. I know an Englishman who is said to be in the same situation, with this difference, that his lady is still more beautiful. In both these instances, it is natural to believe that the beautiful young wives will always take care to keep their husbands in such a chaste and virtuous way of thinking, that, whatever time they may spend with their ancient mistresses, nothing criminal will ever pass between them. Whatever satisfaction the Italians find in this kind of constancy, and in their friendly attachments to one woman, my friend the Marquis de F told me, when I last saw him at Paris, that he had tried it while he remained at Rome, and found it quite intolerable. A certain obliging ecclesiastic had taken the trouble, at the earnest request of a lady of that city, to arrange matters between her and the Marquis, who was put into immediate possession of all the rights that were ever supposed to belong to a Cicisbeo. The woman nauseated her husband, which had advanced matters mightily; and her passion for the Marquis was in proportion to her abhorrence of the other. In this state things had remained but a very short time, when the Marquis called one afternoon to drive the Abb out a little into the country, but he happened to have just dined. The meals or this ecclesiastic were generally rather oppressive for two or three hours after they were finished; he therefore declined the invitation, saying, by way of apology, Je suis dans les horreurs de la digestion. He then enquired how the Marquiss amour went on with the lady. Ah, pour lamour, cela est  peu prs pass, replied the Marquis, et nous sommes actuellement dans les horreurs de lamiti. LETTER LXXVI. Florence. The Florentines imputed the decay of the republic to the circumstance of their Sovereign residing in another country; and they imagined, that wealth would accumulate all over Tuscany, and flow into Florence, from various quarters, as soon as they should have a residing Prince, and a Court established. It appears, that their hopes were too sanguine, or at least premature. Commerce is still in a languid condition, in spite of all the pains taken by the Great Duke to revive it. The Jews are not held in that degree of odium, or subjected to the same humiliating distinctions here, as in most other cities of Europe. I am told, some of the richest merchants are of that religion. Another class of mankind, who are also reprobated in some countries, are in this looked on in the same light with other citizens. I mean the actors and singers at the different Theatres. Why Christians, in any country, should have the same prejudice against them as against Jews, many are at a loss to know; it cannot, certainly, be on the same account. Actors and actresses have never been accused of an obstinate, or superstitious adherence to the principles or ceremonies of any false religion whatever. To attempt a description of the churches, palaces, and other public buildings, would lead, in my opinion, to a very unentertaining detail. Few cities, of its size, in Europe, however, afford so fine a field of amusement to those who are fond of such subjects; though the lovers of architecture will be shocked to find several of the finest churches without fronts, which, according to some, is owing to a real deficiency of money; while others assert, they are left in this condition, as a pretext for levying contributions to finish them. The chapel of St. Lorenzo is, perhaps, the finest and most expensive habitation that ever was reared for the dead; it is encrusted with precious stones, and adorned by the workmanship of the best modern sculptors. Some complain that, after all, it has a gloomy appearance. There seems to be no impropriety in that, considering what the building was intended for; though, certainly, the same effect might have been produced at less expence. Mr. Addison remarked, that this chapel advanced so very slowly, that it is not impossible but the family of Medicis may be extinct before their burialplace is finished. This has actually taken place: the Medici family is extinct, and the chapel remains still unfinished. Of all the methods by which the vanity of the Great has distinguished them from the rest of mankind, this of erecting splendid receptacles for their bones, excites the least envy. The sight of the most superb edifice of this kind, never drew a repining sigh from the bosom of one poor person; nor do the unsuccessful complain, that the bodies of Fortunes favourites rot under Parian marble, while their own will, in all probability, be allowed to moulder beneath a plain turf. I have already mentioned the number of statues which ornament the streets and squares of Florence, and how much they are respected by the common people. I am told, they amount in all to above one hundred and fifty, many of them of exquisite workmanship, and admired by those of the best taste. Such a number of statues, without any drapery, continually exposed to the public eye, with the far greater number of pictures, as well as statues, in the same state, to be seen in the palaces, have produced, in both sexes, the most perfect insensibility to nudities. Ladies who have remained some time at Rome and Florence, particularly those who affect a taste for virt, acquire an intrepidity and a cool minuteness, in examining and criticising naked figures, which is unknown to those who have never passed the Alps. There is something in the figure of the God of Gardens, which is apt to alarm the modesty of a novice; but I have heard of female dilettantes who minded it no more than a straw. The Palazzo Pitti, where the Great Duke resides, is on the opposite side of the Arno from the Gallery. It has been enlarged since it was purchased from the ruined family of Pitti. The furniture of this palace is rich and curious, particularly some tables of Florentine work, which are much admired. The most precious ornaments, however, are the paintings. The walls of what is called the Imperial Chamber, are painted in fresco, by various painters; the subjects are allegorical, and in honour of Lorenzo of Medicis, distinguished by the name of the Magnificent. There is more fancy than taste displayed in those paintings. The other principal rooms are distinguished by the names of Heathen Deities, as Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, Venus, and by paintings in fresco, mostly by Pietro da Cortona. In the last mentioned, the subjects are different from what is naturally expected from the name of the room, being representations of the triumphs of Virtue over Love, or some memorable instance of continency. As the Medici family have been more distinguished for the protection they afforded the arts, than for the virtues of continency or selfdenial, it is probable, the subject, as well as the execution of these pieces, was left entirely to the painter. I happened lately to be at this palace, with a person who is perfectly well acquainted with all the pictures of any merit in Florence. While he explained the peculiar excellencies of Pietros manner, a gentleman in company, who, although he does not pretend to the smallest skill in pictures, would rather remain ignorant for ever, than listen to the lectures of a connoisseur, walked on, by himself, into the other apartments, while I endeavoured to profit by my instructors knowledge. When the other gentleman returned, he said, I know no more of painting than my pointer; but there is a picture in one of the other rooms, which I would rather have than all those you seem to admire so much; it is the portrait of a healthy, handsome, country woman, with her child in her arms. There is nothing interesting in the subject, to be sure, because none of us are personally acquainted with the woman. But I cannot help thinking the colours very natural. The young womans countenance is agreeable, and expressive of fondness and the joy of a mother over a firstborn. The child is a robust, chubbycheeked fellow; such as the son of a peasant should be. We followed him into the room, and the picture which pleased him so much, was the famous Madonna della Seggiola of Raphael. Our instructor immediately called out Viva! and pronounced him a man of genuine taste; because, without any previous knowledge or instruction, he had fixed his admiration on the finest picture in Florence. But this gentleman, as soon as he understood what the picture was, disclaimed all title to praise; because, said he, although, when I considered that picture, simply as the representation of a blooming country wench hugging her child, I admired the art of the painter, and thought it one of the truest copies of nature I ever saw; yet, I confess, my admiration is much abated, now that you inform me his intention was to represent the Virgin Mary. Why so? replied the Cicerone; the Virgin Mary was not of higher rank. She was but a poor woman, living in a little village in Galilee. No rank in life, said the other, could give additional dignity to the person who had been told by an Angel from heaven, that she had found favour with God; that her Son should be called the Son of the Highest; and who, herself, was conscious of all the miraculous circumstances attending his conception and birth. In the countenance of such a woman, besides comeliness, and the usual affection of a mother, I looked for the most lively expression of admiration, gratitude, virgin modesty, and divine love. And when I am told, the picture is by the greatest painter that ever lived, I am disappointed in perceiving no traces of that kind in it. What justice there is in this gentlemans remarks, I leave it to better judges than I pretend to be, to determine. After our diurnal visit to the Gallery, we often pass the rest of the forenoon in the gardens belonging to this palace. The vale of Arno; the gay hills that surround it; and other natural beauties to be viewed from thence, form an agreeable variety, even to eyes which have been feasting on the most exquisite beauties of art. The pleasure arising from both, however, diminishes by repetition; but may be again excited by the admiration of a new spectator, of whose taste and sensibility you have a good opinion. I experienced this on the arrival of Mr. Fr, a gentleman of sense, honour, and politeness, whose company gave fresh relish to our other enjoyments in this place. It is now some time since he left us; and I am not at all unhappy in the thoughts of proceeding, in a day or two, to Bologna, in our road to Milan. LETTER LXXVII. Milan. For a post or two after leaving Florence, and about as much before you arrive at Bologna, the road is very agreeable; the rest of your journey between those two cities is over the sandy Apennines. We had the good fortune to find at Bologna Sir William and Lady H, Mr. Ft, Mr. K, Lord L, and Sir H Fn. Our original intention was to have proceeded without delay to Milan, but on such an agreeable meeting it was impossible not to remain a few days at Bologna. I went to the academy on the day of distributing the prizes for the best specimens and designs in painting, sculpture, and architecture; a discourse in praise of the fine arts was pronounced by one of the professors, who took that opportunity of enumerating the fine qualities of the Cardinal Legate; none of the virtues, great or small, were omitted on the occasion; all were attributed in the superlative degree to this accomplished prince of the church. The learned orator acknowledged, however, that this panegyric did not properly belong to his subject, but hoped that the audience, and particularly the Legate himself, who was present, would forgive him, in consideration that the eulogy had been wrung from him by the irresistible force of truth. The same force drew forth something similar in praise of the Gonfalonier and other magistrates who were present also; and what you may think very remarkable, the number and importance of the qualities attributed to those distinguished persons kept an exact proportion with their rank. Power in this happy city seems to have been weighed in the scales of justice, and distributed by the hand of wisdom. All the inferior magistrates, we were informed, are very worthy men, endowed with many excellent qualities; the Gonfalonier has many more, and the Legate possesses every virtue under the sun. If the Pope had entered the room, the too lavish professor would not have been able to help him to a single morsel of praise which had not been already served up. This town is at present quite full of strangers, who came to assist at the procession of Corpus Domini. The Duke of Parma, several Cardinals, and other persons of high distinction, besides a prodigious crowd of citizens, attended this great festival. The streets through which the Host was carried under a magnificent canopy, were adorned with tapestry, paintings, lookingglasses, and all the various kinds of finery which the inhabitants could produce. Many of the paintings seemed unsuitable to the occasion; they were on profane, and some of them on wanton subjects; and it appeared extraordinary to see the figures of Venus, Minerva, Apollo, Jupiter, and others of that abdicated family, arranged along the walls in honour of a triumph of the Corpus Christi. On our way to Milan we stopped a short time at Modena, the capital of the duchy of that name. The whole duchy is about fifty miles in length, and twentysix in breadth; the town contains twenty thousand inhabitants; the streets are in general large, straight, and ornamented with porticoes. This city is surrounded by a fortification, and farther secured by a citadel; it was anciently rendered famous by the siege which Decimus Brutus sustained here against Marc Antony. We proceeded next to Parma, a beautiful town, considerably larger than Modena, and defended, like it, by a citadel and regular fortification. The streets are well built, broad, and regular. The town is divided unequally by the little river Parma, which loses itself in the Po, ten or twelve miles from this city. The theatre is the largest of any in Europe; and consequently a great deal larger than there is any occasion for. Every body has observed, that it is so favourable to the voice, that a whisper from the stage is heard all over this immense house; but nobody tells us on what circumstance in the construction this surprising effect depends. The Modenese was the native country of Correggio, but he passed most of his life at Parma. Several of the churches are ornamented by the pencil of that great artist, particularly the cupola of the cathedral; the painting of which has been so greatly admired for the grandeur of the design and the boldness of the foreshortenings. It is now spoiled in such a manner, that its principal beauties are not easily distinguished. Some of the best pictures in the Ducal Palace have been removed to Naples and elsewhere; but the famous picture of the Virgin, in which Mary Magdalen and St. Jerom are introduced, still remains. In this composition, Correggio has been thought to have united, in a supreme degree, beauties which are seldom found in the same piece; an excellence in any one of which has been sufficient to raise other artists to celebrity. The same connoisseurs assert, that this picture is equally worthy of admiration, on account of the freshness of the colouring, the inexpressible gracefulness of the design, and the exquisite tenderness of the expression. After I had heard all those fine things said over and over again, I thought I had nothing to do but admire; and I had prepared my mind accordingly.Would to Heaven that the respectable body of connoisseurs were agreed in opinion, and I should most readily submit mine to theirs! But while the above eulogium still resounded in my ears, other connoisseurs have asserted, that this picture is full of affectation; that the shadowing is of a dirty brown, the attitude of the Magdalen constrained and unnatural; that she may strive to the end of time without ever being able to kiss the foot of the infant Jesus in her present position; that she has the look of an ideot; and that the Virgin herself is but a vulgar figure, and seems not a great deal wiser; that the angels have a ridiculous simper, and most abominable air of affectation; and finally, that St. Jerom has the appearance of a sturdy beggar, who intrudes his brawny figure where it has no right to be. Distracted with such opposite sentiments, what can a plain man do, who has no great reliance on his own judgment, and wishes to give offence to neither party? I shall leave the picture as I found it, to answer for itself, with a single remark in favour of the angels. I cannot take upon me to say how the real angels of heaven look; but I certainly have seen some earthly angels, of my acquaintance, assume the simper and air of those in this picture, when they wished to appear quite celestial. The duchies of Modena, Parma, and Placentia, are exceedingly fertile. The soil is naturally rich, and the climate being moister here than in many other parts of Italy, produces more plentiful pasturage for cattle. The road runs over a continued plain, among meadows and corn fields, divided by rows of trees, from whose branches the vines hang in beautiful festoons. We had the pleasure of thinking, as we drove along, that the peasants are not deprived of the blessings of the smiling fertility among which they live. They had in general a neat, contented, and cheerful appearance. The women are successfully attentive to the ornaments of dress, which is never the case amidst oppressive poverty. Notwithstanding the fertility of the country around it, the town of Placentia itself is but thinly inhabited, and seems to be in a state of decay. What first strike a stranger on entering this city, are two equestrian statues, in bronze, by Giovanni di Bologna; they stand in the principal square, before the Townhouse. The best of the two represents that consummate general Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma and Placentia, who commanded the army of Philip II. in the Netherlands. The inscription on the pedestal mentions his having relieved the city of Paris, when called to the assistance of the League into France, where his great military skill, and cool intrepidity, enabled him to baffle all the ardent impetuosity of the gallant Henry. He was certainly worthy of a better master, and of serving in a better cause. We cannot, without regret, behold a Prince, of the Duke of Parmas talents and character, supporting the pride of an unrelenting tyrant, and the rancour of furious fanatics. Except the Ducal Palace, and some pictures in the churches, which I dare swear you will cordially forgive me for passing over undescribed, I believe there is not a great deal in this city worthy of attention; at all events I can say little about them, as we remained here only a few hours during the heat of the day, and set out the same evening for Milan. LETTER LXXVIII. Milan. Milan, the ancient capital of Lombardy, is the largest city in Italy, except Rome; but though it is thought rather to exceed Naples in size, it does not contain above onehalf the number of inhabitants. The cathedral stands in the centre of the city, and, after St. Peters, is the most considerable building in Italy. It ought by this time to be the largest in the world, if what they tell us be true, that it is near four hundred years since it was begun, and that there has been a considerable number of men daily employed in completing it ever since; but as the injuries which time does to the ancient parts of the fabric keep them in constant employment, without the possibility of their work being ever completed, Martials epigram, on the barber Eutrapelus, has been applied to them with great propriety. That poor man, it seems, performed his operations so very slowly, that the beards of his patients required shaving again on the side where he had begun, by the time he had finished the other. EUTRAPELUS TONSOR DUM CIRCUIT ORA LUPERCI, EXPUNGITQUE GENAS, ALTERA BARBA SUBIT. No church in Christendom is so much loaded, I had almost said disfigured, with ornaments. The number of statues, withinside and without, is prodigious; they are all of marble, and many of them finely wrought. The greater part cannot be distinctly seen from below, and therefore certainly have nothing to do above. Besides those which are of a size, and in a situation to be distinguished from the street, there are great numbers of smaller statues, like fairies peeping from every cornice, and hid among the grotesque ornaments, which are here in vast profusion. They must have cost much labour to the artists who formed them, and are still a source of toil to strangers, who, in compliment to the person who harangues on the beauties of this church, which he says is the eighth wonder of the world, are obliged to ascend to the roof to have a nearer view of them. This vast fabric is not simply encrusted, which is not uncommon in Italy, but intirely built of solid white marble, and supported by fifty columns, said to be eightyfour feet high. The four pillars under the cupola, are twentyeight feet in circumference. By much the finest statue belonging to it is that of St. Bartholomew. He appears flayed, with his skin flung around his middle like a sash, and in the easiest and most degag manner imaginable. The muscles are well expressed; and the figure might be placed with great propriety in the hall of an anatomist; but, exposed as it is to the view of people of all professions, and of both sexes, it excites more disgust and horror than admiration. Like those beggars who uncover their sores in the street, the artist has destroyed the very effect he meant to produce. This would have sufficiently evinced that the statue was not the work of Praxitiles, without the inscription on the pedestal. NON ME PRAXITILES, SED MARCUS FINXIT AGRATI. The inside of the choir is ornamented by some highly esteemed sculpture in wood. From the roof hangs a case of crystal, surrounded by rays of gilt metal, and inclosing a nail, said to be one of those by which our Saviour was nailed to the cross. The treasury belonging to this church is reckoned the richest in Italy, after that of Loretto. It is composed of jewels, relics, and curiosities of various kinds; but what is esteemed above all the rest, is a small portion of Aarons rod, which is carefully preserved there. The Ambrosian Library is said to be one of the most valuable collections of books and manuscripts in Europe. It is open a certain number of hours every day; and there are accommodations for those who come to read or make extracts. In the Museum, adjoining to the Library, are a considerable number of pictures, and many natural curiosities. Among these they shew a human skeleton. This does not excite a great deal of attention, till you are informed that it consists of the bones of a Milanese Lady, of distinguished beauty, who, by her last will, ordained that her body should be dissected, and the skeleton placed in this Museum, for the contemplation of posterity. If this Lady only meant to give a proof of the transient nature of external charms, and that a beautiful woman is not more desirable after death than a homely one, she might have allowed her body to be consigned to dust in the usual way. In spite of all the cosmetics, and other auxiliaries which vanity employs to varnish and support decaying beauty and flaccid charms, the world have been long satisfied that death is not necessary to put the fair and the homely on a level; a very few years, even during life, do the business. There is no place in Italy, perhaps I might have said in Europe, where strangers are received in such an easy, hospitable manner, as at Milan. Formerly the Milanese Nobility displayed a degree of splendour and magnificence, not only in their entertainments, but in their usual style of living, unknown in any other country in Europe. They are under a necessity at present of living at less expence, but they still shew the same obliging and hospitable disposition. This country having, not very long since, been possessed by the French, from whom it devolved to the Spaniards, and from them to the Germans, the troops of those nations have, at different periods, had their residence here, and, in the course of these vicissitudes, produced a style of manners, and stamped a character on the inhabitants of this duchy, different from what prevails in any other part of Italy; and nice observers imagine they perceive in Milanese manners the politeness, formality, and honesty imputed to those three nations, blended with the ingenuity natural to Italians. Whatever uneasiness the inhabitants of Milan may feel, from the idea of their being under German government, they seem universally pleased with the personal character of Count Fermian, who has resided here many years as Minister from Vienna, equally to the satisfaction of the Empress Queen, the inhabitants of Milan, and the strangers who occasionally travel this way. The Great Theatre having been burnt to the ground last year, there are no dramatic entertainments, except at a small temporary playhouse, which is little frequented; but the company assemble every evening in their carriages on the ramparts, and drive about, in the same manner as at Naples, till it is pretty late. In Italy, the ladies have no notion of quitting their carriages at the public walks, and using their own legs, as in England and France. On seeing the number of servants, and the splendour of the equipages which appear every evening at the Corso on the ramparts, one would not suspect that degree of depopulation, and diminution of wealth, which we are assured has taken place within these few years all over the Milanese; and which, according to my information, proceeds from the burthensome nature of some late taxes, and the insolent and oppressive manner in which they are gathered. The natural productions of this fertile country must occasion a considerable commerce, by the exportation of grain, particularly rice; cattle, cheese, and by the various manufactures of silken and velvet stuffs, stockings, handkerchiefs, ribands, gold and silver laces and embroideries, woollen and linen cloths, as well as by some large manufactures of glass, and earthen ware in imitation of china, which are established here. But I am told monopolies are too much protected here, and that prejudices against the profession of a merchant still exist in the minds of the only people who have money. These cannot fail to check industry, and depress the soul of commerce; and perhaps there is little probability that the inhabitants of Milan will overcome this unfortunate turn of mind while they remain under German dominion, and adopt German ideas. The peasants, though more at their ease than in many other places, yet are not so much so as might be expected in so very fertile a country. Why are the inhabitants of the rich plains of Lombardy, where Nature pours forth her gifts in such profusion, less opulent than those of the mountains of Switzerland? Because Freedom, whose influence is more benign than sunshine and zephyrs, who covers the rugged rock with soil, drains the sickly swamp, and clothes the brown heath in verdure; who dresses the labourers face with smiles, and makes him behold his increasing family with delight and exultation; Freedom has abandoned the fertile fields of Lombardy, and dwells among the mountains of Switzerland. LETTER LXXIX. Chamberry. We made so short a stay at Turin that I did not think of writing from thence. I shall now give you a sketch of our progress since my last. We left Milan at midnight, and arrived the next evening at Turin before the shutting of the gates. All the approaches to that city are magnificent. It is situated at the bottom of the Alps, in a fine plain watered by the Po. Most of the streets are well built, uniform, clean, straight, and terminating on some agreeable object. The Strada di Po, leading to the palace, the finest and largest in the city, is adorned with porticoes equally beautiful and convenient. The four gates are also highly ornamental. There can be no more agreeable walk than that around the ramparts. The fortifications are regular and in good repair, and the citadel is reckoned one of the strongest in Europe. The royal palace and the gardens are admired by some. The apartments display neatness, rather than magnificence. The rooms are small, but numerous. The furniture is rich and elegant; even the floors attract attention, and must peculiarly strike strangers who come from Rome and Bologna; they are curiously inlaid with various kinds of wood, and kept always in a state of shining brightness. The pictures, statues, and antiquities in the palace are of great value; of the former there are some by the greatest masters, but those of the Flemish school predominate. No royal family in Europe are more rigid observers of the laws of etiquette, than that of Sardinia; all their movements are uniform and invariable. The hour of rising, of going to mass, of taking the air; every thing is regulated like clockwork. Those illustrious persons must have a vast fund of natural goodhumour, to enable them to persevere in such a wearisome routine, and support their spirits under such a continued weight of oppressive formality. We had the satisfaction of seeing them all at mass; but as the D of H grows more impatient to get to England the nearer we approach it, he declined being presented at court, and we left Turin two days after our arrival. We stopped a few hours, during the heat of the day, at a small village, called St. Ambrose, two or three posts from Turin. I never experienced more intense heat than during this day, while we were tantalized with a view of the snow on the top of the Alps, which seem to overhang this place, though, in reality, they are some leagues distant. While we remained at St. Ambrose there was a grand procession. All the men, women, and children, who were able to crawl, attended; several old women carried crucifixes, others pictures of the saint, or flags fixed to the ends of long poles; they seemed to have some difficulty in wielding them, yet the good old women tottered along as happy as so many young ensigns the first time they bend under the regimental colours. Four men, carrying a box upon their shoulders, walked before the rest. I asked what the box contained, and was informed by a sagacious looking old man, that it contained the bones of St. John. I enquired if all the Saints bones were there; he assured me, that not even a joint of his little finger was wanting; Because, continued I, I have seen a considerable number of bones in different parts of Italy, which are said to be the bones of St. John. He smiled at my simplicity, and said the world was full of imposition; but nothing could be more certain, than that those in the box were the true bones of the Saint; he had remembered them ever since he was a childand his father, when on his deathbed, had told him, on the word of a dying man, That they belonged to St. John and no other body. At Novalezza, a village at the bottom of Mount Cenis, our carriages were taken to pieces, and delivered to Muleteers to be carried to Lanebourg. I had bargained with the Vitturino, before we left Turin, for our passage over the mountain in the chairs commonly used on such occasions. The fellow had informed us there was no possibility of going in any other manner; but when we came to this place, I saw no difficulty in being carried up by mules, which we all preferred, to the great satisfaction of our knavish conductor, who thereby saved the expence of one half the chairmen, for whose labour he was already paid. We rode up this mountain, which has been described in such formidable terms, with great ease. At the top there is a fine verdant plain of five or six miles in length, we halted at an Inn, called Santa Croce, where Piedmont ends and Savoy begins. Here we were regaled with fried trout, catched in a large lake within sight, from which the river Doria arises, which runs to Turin in conjunction with the Po. Though we ascend no higher than this plain, which is the summit of Mount Cenis, the mountains around are much higher; in passing the plain we felt the air so keen, that we were glad to have recourse to our greatcoats; which, at the bottom of the hill, we had considered as a very superfluous part of our baggage. I had a great deal of conversation in passing the mountain with a poor boy, who accompanied us from Novalezza to take back the mules; he told me he could neither read nor write, and had never been farther than Suza on one side of the mountain, and Lanebourg on the other. He spoke four languages, Piedmontese, which is his native language; this is a kind of Patois very different from Italian; the Patois of the peasants of Savoy, which is equally different from French; he also spoke Italian and French wonderfully well; the second he had learnt from the Savoyard chairmen, and the two last from Italian and French travellers whom he has accompanied over Mount Cenis, where he has passed his life hitherto, and which he seems to have no desire of leaving. If you chance to be consulted by any parent who inclines to send their sons abroad merely that they may be removed from London, and acquire modern languages in the most conomical manner, you now know what place to recommend. In none where opportunities for this branch of education are equal, is living cheaper than at Mount Cenis, and I know nothing in which it has any resemblance to London, except that it stands on much the same quantity of ground. I asked this boy, why he did not learn English.He had all the inclination in the world.Why dont you learn it then as well as French? On attrape le Franois, Monsieur, bon gr, mal gr, answered he, mais Messieurs les Anglois parlent peu. When we arrived at the North side of the mountain we dismissed our mules, and had recourse to our Alpian chairs and chairmen. The chairs are constructed in the simplest manner, and perfectly answer the purpose for which they are intended. The chairmen are strongmade, nervous, little fellows. One of them was betrothed to a girl at Lanebourg, and was to be married that evening. I could not, in conscience, permit him to have any part in carrying me, but directly appointed him to Jacks chair. The young fellow presented us all with ribbons, which we wore in our hats in honour of the bride. Are you very fond of your mistress, friend, said I? Il faut que je laime beaucoup, answered he, puisque, pauvre garon comme me voila, je donne trente livres au prtre pour nous marier. To tax matrimony, and oblige the people who beget and maintain children to pay to those who maintain none, seems bad policy; and it is surprising that a prince who attends so minutely, as his Sardinian Majesty, to the welfare of his subjects, does not remedy so great an abuse. As our carriers jogged zigzag, according to the course of the road, down the mountain, they laughed and sung all the way. How comes it, said I to the D, that chairmen are generally merrier than those they carry? To hear these fellows without seeing them, one would imagine that we had the laborious part, while they sat at their ease. True, answered he; and the same person might conclude, on hearing the bridegroom sing so cheerfully, that we were just going to be married and not he. We arrived in a short time at the Inn at Lanebourg, nothing having surprised me so much in the passage of this mountain, the difficulty and danger of which has been greatly exaggerated by travellers, as the facility with which we achieved it. As soon as the scattered members of our carriages were joined together, we proceeded on our journey. The road is never level, but a continued ascent and descent along the side of high mountains. We sometimes saw villages situated at a vast height above us; at other times they were seen with difficulty in the vales, at an immense depth below us. The village of Modane stands in a hollow, surrounded by stupendous mountains. It began to grow dark when we descended from a great height into this hollow; we could only perceive the rugged summits, and sides of the mountains which encircle the village, but not the village itself, or any part of the plain at the bottom; we therefore seemed descending from the surface, by a dark abyss leading to the centre of the globe. We arrived safe at Modane, however, for the road is good in every respect, steepness excepted. Next morning we continued our course, by a miserable place called La Chambre, to Aiguebelle, a village of much the same description. According to some authors, this was the road by which Hannibal led his army into Italy. They assert, that the plain at the summit of Mount Cenis was the place where he rested his army for four days, and from which he showed his soldiers the fertile plains of Italy, and encouraged them to persevere: others assert that he led his army into Italy by Mount St. Bernard. This is a discussion into which I am not qualified to enter; but Mr Gl Ml, a gentleman of learning, probity, and great professional merit, in his way to Italy, where he now is, endeavoured to trace the route of the Carthaginian army with great attention; and imagines he has been successful in his researches. He has also ascertained the spots on which some of the most memorable battles were fought, by carefully comparing the description of Polybius, and other authors, with the fields of battle, and has detected many mistakes, which have prevailed on this curious subject; every where supporting his own hypothesis by arguments which none but one who has carefully perused the various authors, and examined the ground with a soldiers eye, could adduce. The same gentleman has likewise made some observations relating to the arms of the ancient Romans, and their tactics in general, which are equally new and ingenious, and which, it is hoped, he will in due time give to the public. We arrived at the inn at Aiguebelle just in time to avoid an excessive storm of thunder and rain, which lasted with great violence through the whole night. Those who have never heard thunder in a very mountainous country, can form no idea of the loudness, repetition, and length of the peals we heard this night. Many of the inhabitants of those mountains have never seen better houses than their own huts, or any other country than the Alps. What a rugged, boisterous piece of work must they take this world to be! I fancy you have by this time had enough of mountains and vallies, so if you please we shall skip over Montmelian to Chamberry, where we arrived the same day on which we left Aiguebelle. Tomorrow we shall sleep at Geneva. I did not expect much sleep this night from the thoughts of it, and therefore have sat up almost till daybreak writing this letter. LETTER LXXX. Besanon. The D of H went some weeks ago to visit an acquaintance in one of the provinces of France. As I inclined rather to pass that time at Geneva, we agreed to meet at Paris, whither Jack and I are thus far on our way. I must now fairly confess that I found myself so happy with my kind friends the Genevois, that I could not spare an hour from their company to write to you or any correspondent, unless on indispensable business. I might also plead, that you yourself have been in some measure the cause of my being seduced from my pen. In your last letter; which I found waiting for me at the posthouse at Geneva, you mention a late publication in terms that gave me a curiosity to see it; and an English gentleman, who had the only copy which has as yet reached that city, was so obliging as to lend it me. The hours which I usually allot to sleep, were all I had in my power to pass alone; and they were very considerably abridged by this admirable performance. The extensive reading there displayed, the perspicuity with which historical facts are related, the new light in which many of them are placed, the depth of the reflections, and the dignity and nervous force of the language, all announce the hand of a master. If the author lives to complete his arduous undertaking, he will do more to dissipate the historical darkness which overshadows the middle ages, give a clearer History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and fill up, in a more satisfactory manner, the long interval between ancient and modern history, than all the writers who have preceded him. This accounts for my long silence. You see I resume my pen the very first opportunity, after the causes I have assigned for it are removed, which ought to give the more weight to my apology. As I have frequently been at Lyons, I chose, on this occasion, to return to Paris by Franche Comt and Champagne. We accordingly set out very early yesterday morning, and were by no means in high spirits when we left Geneva, and passed along the side of the lake, through the Pais de Vaud. The beauties of that country, though they astonish at first sight, yet, like the characters of the inhabitants, they improve on intimacy. Every time I have looked at the lake of Geneva, and its delightful environs, I have discovered something new to admire. As I entered the Canton of Bern, I often turned about, and at last withdrew my eyes from those favourite objects, with an emotion similar to what you feel on taking leave of a friend, whom you have reason to think you shall never see again. The first place we came to, on entering France from the Canton of Bern, is a poor little town on an hill; I forget its name. While the postillion stopped to put something to rights about the harness, I stepped into a shop where they sold wooden shoes; and in the course of my conversation with a peasant, who had just purchased a pair for himself, and another for his wife, he said, les Bernois sont bien  leur aise, Monsieur, pendant que nous autres Franois vivons tres durement, et cependant les Bernois sont des hrtiques. Voil , said an old woman, who sat in a corner reading her breviary; voil , said she, taking off her spectacles, and laying her beads on the book, ce que je trouve incomprhensible. This was, however, at the extremity of France, and in a province lately acquired; for it must be confessed, that it is not common for the French to imagine that any country whatever has the advantage of theirs in any one circumstance; and they certainly are not so apt to grumble as some of their neighbours, who have less reason. When I was last at Geneva, a French hairdresserLet me intreat you not to shew this to your friend , who is so fond of people of quality, that he thinks there is no life out of their company. He would pshaw, and curse my poor peasants, and old women, and hairdressers, and accuse me of being too fond of such low company. As for the old women, I am much mistaken if there are not at least as many to be found of both sexes in high life as in low; for the others, I declare I have no particular affection, but I am fond of strokes of nature and character, and must look for them where they are to be found. I introduce the present hairdresser to your acquaintance, because, if I am not mistaken, he spoke the sentiments of his whole nation, high and low. You shall judge. This young fellow attended me every morning while I remained at Geneva; he had been a year or two at London; and while he dressed my hair, his tongue generally moved as quick as his fingers. He was full of his remarks upon London, and the fine people whose hair he pretended to have dressed. Do you not think, said I, that people may live very happily in that country? Maispour cela oui, Monsieur. Do you think, then, they are happy? Pour cela, non, Monsieur. Can you guess at the reason why they are not, though they have so much reason to be so? Oui, Monsieur, elle est toute simple. Pray what is the reason they are not happy? Cest, quils ne font pas destins  ltre. A very genteel young man, a Genevois, happened to call on me, for two minutes, while this friseur was with me. The young gentleman had passed some time at Paris, and was dressed exactly in the Parisian taste. He has much the air of one of your countrymen, said I to the Frenchman, as soon as the other had left the room. Mon Dieu! quelle diffrence, cried the friseur. For my part, I can see none, said I. Monsieur, resumed he, soyez persuad quaucun Genevois ne sera jamais pris pour un Franois. There are certainly some petitmatres to be found in this town, said I. Pardonnez moi, replied he, ils ne sont que petitmatres manqus. Did you ever see an Englishman, said I, who might pass for a Frenchman? Jamais de la vie, Monsieur! replied he, with an accent of astonishment. Suppose him, said I, a man of quality? Nimporte. But, continued I, suppose he had lived several years at Paris, that he was naturally very handsome, and well made, that he had been educated by the best French dancingmaster, his clothes made by the best French taylor, and his hair dressed by the most eminent friseur in Paris? Cest beaucoup, Monsieur, mais ce nest pas assez. What! exclaimed I, would you still know him to be an Englishman? Assurment, Monsieur. What! before he spoke? Au premier coup dil, Monsieur. The Devil you would; but how? Cest que Messieurs les Anglois ont un airune manire de se prsenterunque saisje moivous mentendez bien, Monsieurun certain air si Gau Quel air maraud? Enfin un air qui est charmant, si vous voulez, Monsieur, said he rapidly, mais que le Diable memporte si cest lair Franois. Tomorrow I shall take a view of this town, and proceed immediately after breakfast to Paris: mean while I wish you very heartily good night. LETTER LXXXI. Paris. I Made a longer stay at Besanon than I intended, and am now about to inform you what detained me. The morning after the date of my last, as I returned to the inn from the parade, where I had been to see the troops, I met a servant of the Marquis de F, who ran up to me the moment he knew me, and, in a breath, told me, that his master was at Besanon; that he had been exceedingly ill, and thought, by the physicians, in great danger; but his complaint having terminated in an ague, they had now the strongest hopes of his recovery. I desired to be conducted immediately to him. I found the Marquis alone; pale, languid, and greatly emaciated. He expressed, however, equal pleasure and surprise at this unexpected visit; said, he had been in danger of making a very long journey, and added, with a smile, that no man had ever set out with less inclination, for he hated travelling alone, and this was the only journey he could ever take, without wishing some of his friends to accompany him. He rejoiced, therefore, that he had been recalled in time to meet me before I should pass on to Paris. But tell me, continued he, for I have ten thousand questions to askbut let us take things in order; Eh bien, donnez nous donc des nouvlles du Pape? On nous a dit que vous aviez pass par la ceremonie de la Pantoufle. Ne pourroit on pas pendre au tragique une misre comme cela chez vous o le Saint Pere passe pour une Babylonienne de mauvaise vie? Before I could make any answer I chanced to turn my eyes upon a person whom I had not before observed, who sat very gravely upon a chair in a corner of the room, with a large periwig in full dress upon his head. The Marquis, seeing my surprise at the sight of this unknown person, after a very hearty fit of laughter, begged pardon for not having introduced me sooner to that gentleman (who was no other than a large monkey), and then told me, he had the honour of being attended by a physician, who had the reputation of possessing the greatest skill, and who certainly wore the largest periwigs of any doctor in the province. That one morning, while he was writing a prescription at his bedside, this same monkey had catched hold of his periwig by one of the knots, and instantly made the best of his way out at the window to the roof of a neighbouring house, from which post he could not be dislodged, till the Doctor, having lost patience, had sent home for another wig, and never after could be prevailed on to accept of this, which had been so much disgraced. That, enfin, his valet, to whom the monkey belonged, had, ever since that adventure, obliged the culprit, by way of punishment, to sit quietly for an hour every morning, with the periwig on his head.Et pendant ces moments de tranquilit je suis honor de la socit du vnrable personage. Then addressing himself to the monkey, Adieu, mon ami, pour aujourdhuiau plaisir de vous revoir; and the servant immediately carried Monsieur le Medecin out of the room. Afraid that the Marquis might be the worse for talking so much, I attempted to withdraw, promising to return in the evening; but this I could not get him to comply with. He assured me, that nothing did him so much harm as holding his tongue; and that the most excessive headach he had ever had in his life, was owing to his having been two hours without speaking, when he made his addresses to Madam de ; who could never forgive those who broke in upon the thread of her discourse, and whom he lost after all, by uttering a few sentences before she could recover her breath after a fit of sneezing. In most peoples discourse, added he, a sneeze passes for a full stop. Mais dans le Caquet eternel de cette femme ce nest quun virgule. I then enquired after my friends Dubois and Fanchon.He told me, that his mother had settled them at her house in the country, where she herself chose, of late, to pass at least one half of the year; that Dubois was of great service to her, in the quality of steward, and she had taken a strong affection for Fanchon, and that both husband and wife were loved and esteemed by the whole neighbourhood. I once, continued the Marquis, proposed to Fanchon, en badinant, to make a trip to Paris, for she must be tired of so much solitude. Have I not my husband? said she, Your husband is not company, rejoined I, your husband, you know, is yourself. What do you think was her answer? Elle ma rpondu, continued the Marquis, Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, plus on s loigne de soimme, plus on scarte du bonheur. In the progress of our conversation, I enquired about the lady to whom he was to have been married, when the match was so abruptly broken off by her father. He told me, the old gentlemans behaviour was explained a short time after our departure from Paris, by his daughters marriage to a man of great fortune; but whose taste, character, and turn of mind were essentially different from those of the young lady. I suppose then, said I, she appeared indifferent about him from the beginning. Pardonnez moi, replied the Marquis, au commencement elle joua la belle passion pour son mari, jusqu scandaliser le monde, peu  peu elle devint plus raisonable, et sur cet article les deux epoux jourent bientt  fortune gale,  prsent ils samusent  se chicaner de petites contradictions qui jettent plus damertume dans le commerce que de torts dcids. Did you ever renew your acquaintance? Je ne pouvois faire autrement, elle a marqu quelques petits regrets de mavoir trait si cruellement. And how did you like her, said I, on farther acquaintance? Je lui ai trouv, answered he, tout ce quon pent souhaiter dans la femme dun autre. The Marquis, feeling himself a little cold, and rising from the sopha to ring for some wood, had a view of the street. O ho, cried he, looking earnestly through the window, regardez, regardez cet hommeQuel homme? said I. Cet homme  gros ventre, said he; and while he spoke, his teeth began to chatter. Ah, Diable, voil mon chien daccscet homme qui marche comme un DiDiDindon, cest laumonier du regiment. I begged he would allow himself to be put to bed, for by this time he was all over shivering with the violence of the ague. Non, non, ce nest rien, said he, il faut absolument que je vous conte cette histoire. Cet homme qui sengraisse en nettoynetteteten nettoyant lame de mes soldats, faisoit les yeux doux  la femme dun CaCaCaporalDiantre je nen peux plus. Adieu, mon ami, cest la plus plaisante histsispeste! demandez mes gens. He was put to bed directly. I found the court below full of soldiers, who had come to enquire after their Colonel. Before I had reached the street, the Marquiss ValetdeChambre overtook me, le ris sur la bouche, et les larmes aux yeux, with a message from his master. The soldiers crowded about us, with anxiety on all their countenances. I assured them, there was no danger; that their Colonel would be well within a very few days. This was heard with every mark of joy, and they dispersed, to communicate the good news to their comrades. Ah, Monsieur, said the Valet, addressing himself to me, il est tant aim de ces braves Garons! et il merite si bien de ltre! Next day he looked better, and was in his usual spirits; the day following, he was still better; and having taken a proper quantity of the bark during the interval, he had no return of the fever. As he has promised to continue the use of the bark, in sufficient doses, for some time, and as relapses are not frequent at this season of the year, I am persuaded the affair is over, and that he will gradually gain strength till he is perfectly recovered. He received me with less gaiety than usual, the day on which I took my leave, and used many obliging expressions, which, however you may smile, I am entirely disposed to believe were sincere; for Altho the candyd tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning: Why should the poor be flatterd? Just as I was returning, we heard the music of the troops marching off the parade.Apropos, cried he, How do your affairs go on with your Colonies? I said, I hoped every thing would be arranged and settled very soon. Ne croyez vous pas, said he, que ces Messieurs, pointing to the troops which then passed below the window, pourroient entrer pour quelque chose dans larrangement? I said, I did not imagine the Americans were such fools as to break all connection with their friends, and then risk falling into the power of their enemies. Il me semble, answered he, que ces Messieurs font assez peu de cas de votre amiti, et aussi, quand vous aurez prouv quils ont tort, il ne sen suivra pas que vous ayiez toujours eu raison. Allons, continued he, seeing that I looked a little grave, point dhumeur; then seizing my hand, permettez moi, je vous prie, daimer les Anglois sans har les Amricains. I soon after parted with this amiable Frenchman, whose gaiety, wit, and agreeable manners, if I may judge from my own experience, represent the character and disposition of great numbers of his countrymen. After a very agreeable journey by Gray, Langres, and Troyes, we arrived at this capital a few days ago. LETTER LXXXII. Paris. Although it is a considerable time since my arrival, yet, as you made so long a stay at Paris while we were in Germany, I could not think of resuming my observations on the manners of this gay metropolis. It has been said, that those times are the most interesting to read of, which were the most disagreeable to live in. So I find the places in which it is most agreeable to reside, are precisely those from which we have the least inclination to write. There are so many resources at Paris, that it always requires a great effort to write letters, of any considerable length, from such a place. This is peculiarly my case at present, as I have the happiness of passing great part of my time with Mr. A St, whom I found at this hotel on my arrival. The integrity, candour, and ability, of that gentlemans conduct, during a long residence, have procured him a great number of friends in this capital, and have established a character which calumny attempted in vain to overthrow. Now that I have resolution to take up my pen, I shall endeavour to clear the debt for which you dun me so unmercifully. I own, I am surprised, that you should require my opinion on the uses of foreign travel, after perusing, as you must have done, the Dialogues, lately published by an eminent divine, equally distinguished for his learning and taste. But as I know what makes you peculiarly solicitous on that subject at present, I shall give you my sentiments, such as they are, without farther hesitation. I cannot help thinking, that a young man of fortune may spend a few years to advantage, in travelling through some of the principal countries of Europe, provided the tour be welltimed, and wellconducted; and, without these, what part of education can be of use? In a former letter, I gave my reasons for preferring the plan of education at the public schools of England, to any other now in use at home or abroad. After the young person has acquired the fundamental parts of learning, which are taught at schools, he will naturally be removed to some university. One of the most elegant and most ingenious writers of the present age has, in his Inquiry into the Causes of the Wealth of Nations, pointed out many deficiencies in those seminaries. What that gentleman has said on this subject, may possibly have some effect in bringing about an improvement. But, with all their deficiencies, it must be acknowledged, that no universities have produced a greater number of men distinguished for polite literature, and eminent for science, than those of England. If a young man has, previously, acquired the habit of application, and a taste for learning, he will certainly find the means of improvement there; and, without these, I know not where he will make any progress in literature. But whatever plan is adopted, whether the young man studies at the university, or at home with private teachers, while he is studying with diligence and alacrity, it would be doing him a most essential injury, to interrupt him by a premature expedition to the Continent, from an idea of his acquiring the graces, elegance of manner, or any of the accomplishments which travelling is supposed to give. Literature is preferable to all other accomplishments, and the men of rank who possess it, have a superiority over those who do not, let their graces be what they may, which the latter feel and envy, while they affect to despise. According to this plan, a youth, properly educated, will seldom begin his foreign tour before the age of twenty; if it is a year or two later, there will be no harm. This is the age, it may be said, when young men of fortune endeavour to get into Parliament: it is so; but if they should remain out of Parliament till they are a few years older, the affairs of the nation might possibly go on as well. It may also be said, if the tour is deferred till the age of twenty, the youth will not, after that period of life, attain the modern languages in perfection. Nor will he acquire that easy manner, and fine address, which are only caught by an early acquaintance with courts, and the assemblies of the gay and elegant. This is true to a certain degree; but the answer is, that by remaining at home, and applying to the pursuits of literature, he will make more valuable attainments. I am at a loss what to say about those same graces; it is certainly desirable to possess them, but they must come, as it were, spontaneously, or they will not come at all. They sometimes appear as volunteers, but cannot be pressed into any service; and those who shew the greatest anxiety about them, are the least likely to attain them. I should be cautious, therefore, of advising a young man to study them either at home or abroad with much solicitude. Students of the graces are, generally, the most abominably affected fellows in the world. I have seen one of them make a whole company squeamish. Though the pert familiarity of French children would not become an English boy, yet it merits the earliest and the utmost attention to prevent or conquer that aukward timidity which so often oppresses the latter when he comes into company. The timidity I speak of, is entirely different from modesty. I have seen the most impudent boys I ever knew, almost convulsed with constraint in the presence of strangers, or when they were required to pronounce a single sentence of civility. But it was only on such occasions they were bashful. Among their companions or inferiors, they were saucy, rude, and boisterous. If boys of this description only were liable to bashfulness, it would be a pity to remove it. But although this quality is distinct from modesty, it is not incompatible with it. Boys of the most modest and most amiable disposition are often overwhelmed with it; from them it ought to be removed, if it can be done, without endangering that modesty which is so great an ornament to youth, and indeed to every period of life. This, surely, may be done in England, as well as in any other country; but it is too much neglected: many consider it as a matter of no importance, or that it will wear off by time. We see it, however, often annihilate, and always impair the effect of the greatest and most useful talents. After the care of forming the heart by the principles of benevolence and integrity, perhaps one of the most important parts of education is, to habituate a boy to behave with modesty, but without restraint, and to retain the full possession of all his faculties in any company. To attain, betimes, that ease and elegance of manner, which travelling is supposed to bestow, and that the young gentleman may become perfectly master of the modern languages, some have thought of mixing the two plans; and, instead of allowing him to prosecute his studies at home, sending him abroad, immediately on his coming from school, on the supposition that, with the assistance of a tutor and foreign professors, he will proceed in the study of philosophy, and other branches of literature, during the three or four years which are employed in the usual tour. It will not be denied, that a young man who has made good use of his time at school and at the university, who has acquired such a taste for science as to consider its pursuits as a pleasure, and not a task, may, even during his travels, mix the study of men with that of books, and continue to make progress in the latter, when the greater part of his time is dedicated to the former. But that such a taste will, for the first time, spring up in the breast of a boy of sixteen or seventeen, amidst the dissipation of theatres, reviews, processions, balls, and assemblies, is of all things the least probable. Others, who think lightly of the importance of what is usually called science to a young man of rank and fortune, still contend, that a knowledge of history, which they admit may be of some use even to men of fortune, can certainly be acquired during the years of travelling. But what sort of a knowledge will it be which a boy, in such a situation, will acquire? Not that which Lord Bolingbroke calls philosophy, teaching by examples, a proper conduct in the various situations of public and private life, but merely a succession of reigns, of battles, and sieges, stored up in the memory without reflection or application. I remember a young gentleman, whom a strong and retentive memory of such events often set a prating very mal propos; one of his companions expressed much surprise at his knowledge, and wondered how he had laid up such a store. Why, truly, replied he, with frankness, it is all owing to my bungling blockhead of a valet, who takes up such an unconscionable time in dressing my hair, that I am glad to read to keep me from fretting; and as there are no newspapers, or magazines, to be had in this country, I have been driven to history, which answers nearly as well. But it sometimes happens, that young men who are far behind their contemporaries in every kind of literature, are wonderfully advanced in the knowledge of the town, so as to vie with the oldest professors in London, and endanger their own health by the ardour of their application. The sooner such premature youths are separated from the connections they have formed in the metropolis, the better; and as it will not be easy to persuade them to live in any other part of Great Britain, it will be necessary to send them abroad. But, instead of being carried to courts and capitals, the best plan for them will be, to fix them in some provincial town of France or Switzerland, where they may have a chance of improving, not so much by new attainments, as by unlearning or forgetting what they have already acquired. After a young man has employed his time to advantage at a public school, and has continued his application to various branches of science till the age of twenty, you ask, what are the advantages he is likely to reap from a tour abroad? He will see mankind more at large, and in numberless situations and points of view, in which they cannot appear in Great Britain, or any one country. By comparing the various customs and usages, and hearing the received opinions of different countries, his mind will be enlarged. He will be enabled to correct the theoretical notions he may have formed of human nature, by the practical knowledge of men. By contemplating their various religions, laws, and government, in action, as it were, and observing the effects they produce on the minds and characters of the people, he will be able to form a juster estimate of their value than otherwise he could have done. He will see the natives of other countries, not as he sees them in England, mere idle spectators, but busily employed in their various characters, as actors on their own proper stage. He will gradually improve in the knowledge of character, not of Englishmen only, but of men in general; he will cease to be deceived either by the varnish with which men are apt to heighten their own actions, or the dark colours in which they, too often, paint those of others. He will learn to distinguish the real from the ostensible motive of mens words and behaviour. Finally, by being received with hospitality, conversing familiarly, and living in the reciprocal exchange of good offices with those whom he considered as enemies, or in some unfavourable point of view, the sphere of his benevolence and goodwill to his brethren of mankind will gradually enlarge. His friendships extending beyond the limits, of his own country, will embrace characters congenial with his own in other nations. Seas, mountains, rivers, are geographical boundaries, but never limited the goodwill or esteem of one liberal mind. As for his manner, though it will probably not be so janty as if he had been bred in France from his earliest youth, yet that also will in some degree be improved. However persuaded he may be of the advantages enjoyed by the people of England, he will see the harshness and impropriety of insulting the natives of other countries with an ostentatious enumeration of those advantages; he will perceive how odious those travellers make themselves, who laugh at the religion, ridicule the customs, and insult the police of the countries through which they pass, and who never fail to insinuate to the inhabitants that they are all slaves and bigots. Such bold Britons we have sometimes met with, fighting their way through Europe, who, by their continual broils and disputes, would lead one to imagine that the angel of the Lord had pronounced on each of them the same denunciation which he did on Ishmael the son of Abraham, by his handmaid Hagar. And he will be a wild man, and his hand will be against every man, and every mans hand against him12. If the same unsocial disposition should creep into our politics, it might arm all the powers in Europe against Great Britain, before she gets clear of her unhappy contest with America. A young man, whose mind has been formed as it ought, before he goes abroad, when he sees many individuals preserve personal dignity in spite of arbitrary government, an independent mind amidst poverty, liberal and philosophic sentiments amidst bigotry and superstition; must naturally have the highest esteem for such characters, and allow them more merit than those even of his own country, who think and act in the same manner in less unfavourable circumstances. Besides these advantages, a young man of fortune, by spending a few years abroad, will gratify a natural and laudable curiosity, and pass a certain portion of his life in an agreeable manner. He will form an acquaintance with that boasted nation, whose superior taste and politeness are universally acknowledged; whose fashions and language are adopted by all Europe; and who, in science, power, and commerce, are the rivals of Great Britain. He will have opportunities of observing the political constitution of the German empire; that complex body, formed by a confederacy of princes, ecclesiastics, and free cities, comprehending countries of vast extent, inhabited by a hardy race of men, distinguished for solid sense and integrity, who, without having equalled their sprightlier neighbours in works of taste or imagination, have shewn what prodigious efforts of application the human mind is capable of in the severest and least amusing studies, and whose armies exhibit at present the most perfect models of military discipline. In contemplating these, he will naturally consider, whether those armies tend most to the aggrandizement of the Monarch, or to defend or preserve any thing to the people who maintain them, and the soldiers who compose them, equivalent to the vast expence of money, and the still greater quantity of misery which they occasion. Viewing the remains of Roman taste and magnificence, he will feel a thousand emotions of the most interesting nature, while those whose minds are not, like his, stored with classical knowledge, gaze with tasteless wonder, or phlegmatic indifference; and, exclusive of those monuments of antiquity, he will naturally desire to be acquainted with the present inhabitants of a country, which at different periods has produced men who, by one means or another, have distinguished themselves so eminently from their contemporaries of other nations. At one period, having subdued the world by the wisdom and firmness of their councils, and the disciplined vigour of their armies, Rome became at once the seat of empire, learning, and the arts. After the Northern barbarians had destroyed the overgrown fabric of Roman power, a new empire, of a more singular nature, gradually arose from its ruins, artfully extending its influence over the minds of men, till the Princes of Europe were at length as much controlled by the bulls of the Vatican, as their ancestors had been by the decrees of the Senate. Commerce also, which rapine and slaughter had frightened from Europe, returned, and joined with Superstition in drawing the riches of all the neighbouring nations to Italy. And, at a subsequent period, Learning, bursting through the clouds of ignorance which overshadowed mankind, again shone forth in the same country, bringing in her train, Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, and Music, all of which have been cultivated with the greatest success; and the three last brought, by the inhabitants of this country, to a degree of excellence unequalled by the natives of any other country of the world. When to these considerations we add, that there is reason to believe that this country had arrived at a great degree of perfection in the arts before the beginning of the Roman republic, we are almost tempted to believe, that local and physical causes have a considerable influence in rendering the mind more acute in this country of Italy, than any where else; and that if the infinite political disadvantages under which it labours were removed, and the whole of this peninsula united in one State, it would again resume its superiority over other nations. Lastly, by visiting other countries, a subject of Great Britain will acquire a greater esteem than ever for the constitution of his own. Freed from vulgar prejudices, he will perceive, that the blessings and advantages which his countrymen enjoy, do not flow from their superiority in wisdom, courage, or virtue, over the other nations of the world, but, in some degree, from the peculiarity of their situation in an island; and, above all, from those just and equitable laws which secure property, that mild free government which abhors tyranny, protects the meanest subject, and leaves the mind of man to its own exertions, unrestrained by those arbitrary, capricious, and impolitic shackles, which confine and weaken its noblest endeavours in almost every other country of the world. This animates industry, creates fertility, and scatters plenty over the boisterous island of Great Britain, with a profusion unknown in the neighbouring nations, who behold with astonishment such numbers of British subjects, of both sexes, and of all ages, roaming discontented through the lands of despotism, in search of that happiness, which, if satiety and the wanton restlessness of wealth would permit, they have a much better prospect of enjoying in their own country. Clum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atque Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est. 12 Vide Genesis, chap. xvi. verse 12. THE END. TRANSLATIONS OF THE LATIN AND ITALIAN QUOTATIONS IN THE SECOND VOLUME. Page 19. The wretched father running to their aid, With pious haste, but vain, they next invade. DRYDEN. 44. How beautiful he is! O how beautiful he is! Ibid. He is as beautiful as he is holy. 86. O God, where am I? what pleasure ravishes my soul! 90. The memory of Cassius and Brutus made a deeper impression on the minds of the spectators, on this very account, that their statues were not seen in the procession. 95. Many have held the empire longer; none ever relinquished it from more generous motives. 99. Now by rich Circes coast they bend their way. 100. Last with her martial troops all sheathed in brass, Camilla came, a queen of Volscian race; Nor were the web or loom the virgins care, But arms and coursers, and the toils of war. She led the rapid race, and left behind The flagging floods, and pinions of the wind: Lightly she flies along the level plain, Nor hurts the tender grass, nor bends the golden grain. PITT. 101. To ForumAppii thence we steer, a place Stuffd with rank boatmen, and with vintners base. FRANCIS. 102. The head of St. Thomas Aquinas. 104. And the steep hills of Circe stretch around, Where fair Feronia boasts her stately grove, And Anxur glories in her guardian Jove; Where stands the Pontine lake PITT. 107. Whether is it best to go by the Numician or Appian way to Brundusium? 108. We willingly leave Fundi, where Alifidius Luscus is chief magistrate. 108. From whom the illustrious race arose, Who first possessed the Formian towers. FRANCIS. Ibid. My cups are neither enriched with the juice of the Falernian grapes, nor that of those from the Formian hills. 114. the rich fields that Liris laves, Where silent roll his deepning waves. FRANCIS. 116. Pure spirits these; the world no purer knows; For none my heart with such affection glows. How oft did we embrace! our joys how great! Is there a blessing, in the power of fate, To be compared, in sanity of mind, To friends of such companionable kind? FRANCIS. 117. Formerly called another Carthage, or another Rome; it now lies buried in its own ruins. 124. God forbid! 125. Blessed Jesus! 126. It is that which vexes me. 142. My son laments, that he has not killed more than eighty birds in one day, whereas, I should think myself the happiest man in the world, if I could kill forty. 188. The knight of Aglant now has couchd his spear, Where closely prest the men and arms appear: First one, and then another, helpless dies; Thro six at once the lance impetuous flies, And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound, That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground. HOOLE. 188, 189. Thus by some standing pool or marshy place, We see an archer slay the croaking race With pointed arrow, nor the slaughter leave, Till the full weapon can no more receive. HOOLE. 197. Both Arcadians, but not equally skilled in singing. 216. What inconsiderate fellow, to terrify people, could first give the mournful name of tears to that wine which, above all others, renders the heart glad, and excites cheerfulness? 277. O illustrious memorial! O irrefragable truth! Come hither, ye heretics! come hither, and be astonished, and open your eyes to catholic and evangelic truth. The blood of St. Januarius alone is a sufficient testimony of the truth. Is it possible, that such a great and famous miracle does not convert all heretics and infidels to the truths of the Roman Catholic church? 285. Sblood! it is still as hard as a stone. 304. Virtue crowns him after many great achievements. 307. All, all for the Kings amusement. Ibid. Surely. Ibid. Surely, surely. 314. I intreat you to forsake, as soon as possible, the corrupt coast of Baia. Ibid. A coast most unfriendly to modest maids. 320. Confections of Tivoli. 322. May Tibur, to my latest hours, Afford a kind and calm retreat; Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers, The Grcians fixd their blissful seat. FRANCIS. 322. The walls of the moist Tibur then flood, which was founded by the Greeks. Ibid. For little folks become their little fate, And at my age, not Romes imperial seat, ... But Tiburs solitude my taste can please. 325. When retired to the cool dream of Digentia, which supplies the cold village of Mandela with water; what, my friend, do you imagine, are my sentiments and wishes? Ibid. Pan from Arcadias heights descends, To visit oft my rural seat FRANCIS. But as a bee, which thro the shady groves, Feeble of wing, with idle murmurs roves, Sips on the bloom, and, with unceasing toil, From the sweet thyme extracts his flowry spoil, So I, weak bard! round Tiburs lucid spring, Of humble strain laborious verses sing. FRANCIS. 328. But me not patient Lacedmon charms, Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms, As pure Albuneus rock resounding source, And rapid Anio, headlong in his course, Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams, And fruitful orchards bathd by ductile dreams. FRANCIS. 331. Hither I, Apollo, have come, accompanied by the Muses. This shall henceforth be our Delphos, Delos, and Helicon. 335. The woods all thunderd, and the mountains shook, The lake of Trivia heard the note profound. ... Pale at the piercing call, the mothers prest With shrieks their starting infants to the breast. PITT. 362. The man in conscious virtue bold, Who dares his secret purpose hold, Unshaken hears the crowds tumultuous cries, And the stern tyrants brow   defies. FRANCIS. 363. While Michael was forming this statue, shocked with the recollection of Brutus crime, he left his design unfinished. 369. I also am a painter. 383. Do you imagine there is but little difference between acting from feeling, as nature dictates, or from art? 444. I am the workmanship of Marcus Agratus, not of Praxiteles. 502. If they, who through the venturous ocean range, Not their own passions, but the climate, change; Anxious thro seas and land to search for rest, Is but laborious idleness at best. FRANCIS. ERRATA. Page 126. line 18. for snuff boxes, or tortoise shells, and the lava, c. read snuff boxes of tortoise shells, and of the lava, c. 159.  21. for vote read veto 211.  14. for than it has been read than at any time. 384.  6. Before the word Accusations read Such. 408.  6. for the confinement read that confinement. SEX  Transcribers Notes: Underscores  before and after a word or phrase indicate italics in the original text. Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved. Typographical and punctuation errors have been silently corrected. FABLES OF FLOWERS, FOR THE FEMALE SEX. WITH ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA, A VISION. WRITTEN FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF HER HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ROYAL BY THE AUTHOR OF THE CHOICE EMBLEMS, C. C. NATURE here Wantons as in her prime, and plays at will Her virgin fancies. MILTON. LONDON: PRINTED FOR GEORGE RILEY, BOOKSELLER, IN CURZONSTREET, MAYFAIR. AND SOLD BY JOHN WILKIE, ST. PAULSCHURCHYARD. MDCCLXXIII. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY CHARLOTTE FINCH. THESE NEW FABLES WRITTEN FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF HER HIGHNESS, CHARLOTTE, PRINCESS ROYAL OF ENGLAND. ARE MOST HUMBLY DEDICATED BY HER LADYSHIPS MOST HUMBLE AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. When I survey the divine simplicity and blooming attractions, that are displayed amongst the variegated tribes of the vegetable creation, I cease to wonder, that Queens forego, for a while, the compliments of a nation, or withdraw from the glitter of a COURT, to be attended with the more splendid EQUIPAGE of a BED of FLOWERS; where nothing seems wanting but the power of speech, to make them become the most pleasing Monitors. How far the Author of the following Fables, written for the amusement of an exalted Personage, may have succeeded, in descriptive fancy, as a poet: it is hoped, that, the moral and refined admonitions which may be found to breathe, from the fragrant bosom of a silverrobed Lily, or a blooming Jonquil, will throw a veil over any poetical inaccuracies; for who can paint like Nature? As to the novelty of the plan, I cannot but hold myself, in a great measure, indebted to an ingenious Lady1, well known in the literary world. And can only say, that I have found both health and recreation in the completion of it; by sharing some of the sweetest hours of contemplation, among the lovely subjects of the following pages. THE AUTHOR. 1 The author of The Vizlis: or Enchanted Labyrinth; an Oriental Tale, 3 Vols.Wherein describes with great taste and fancy, the different passions that are subject to misguide the warm and expanded imagination, of Youth by the Flowers they make choice of in the Labyrinth. TABLE OF CONTENTS. Page. ZEPHYRUS and FLORA 1 FABLE I. The Hollyhock and Lily of the Vale 24 II. The Aloe in Blossom 31 III. The Rose and Hornet 37 IV. The Sensitive Plant 42 V. The Hawthorn and the Primrose 47 VI. The White Rose and the Red 53 VII. The Crocus 59 VIII. The Anemone and the Passion Flower 64 IX. The Lily and Narcissus 69 X. The Ivy and Sweet Briar 73 XI. The Violet Transplanted 77 XII. The Tulip and the Amaranth 81 XIII. The Honey Succkle and Youth 87 XIV. Belinda and the BlueBell 92 XV. The Larkspur and the Myrtle 97 XVI. The Poppy and the SunFlower 102 XVII. The Iris and the Rose 109 XVIII. The Nasturtium and the Wall Flower 113 XIX. The Traveller and Lapland Rose 119 XX. The Deadly Night Shade 124 XXI. The Crown Imperial and Hearts Ease 129 XXII. The Water Lily 133 XXIII. The Funeral Flowers and the Lover 137 XXIV. The Field and Garden Daisy 142 XXV. The Pinks and Arbutus 147 XXVI. The Cockscomb and Sweet William 153 XXVII. The Jasmine and Hemlock 157 XXVIII. The Carnation and Southernwood 161 XXIX. The Rosemary and Field Flower 165 XXX. The Judgment of the Flowers 169 ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA: A VISION. Illustration I. As late I wanderd oer the flowry plain, Where Cambrian Cluyd pours his silver tide, Amidst the pleasures of fair Plentys reign, And blushing flowrs and fruits on evry side: II. Soft sighd the west winds, murmring oer the dale, Whose evry charm rose fresher from the breeze; The lofty hills more boldly kissd the gale, Which skimmd their tops, and shook the wavy trees. III. The sun descending, shot his golden beams Askance, with many a cloud his evning throne Adornd; while mountains, woods, and lucent streams, With the last blushes of his radiance shone. IV. Far stretching hence, Cambrias rough heights I view, Where Liberty long since forlorn retird, Left fairer climes, and skies of brighter hue, And, but at last, triumphantly expird: V. And wide around me wound the fertile vale2, Fit theme and subject of the poets song; Whose numrous beauties load the passing gale, Whose breath repeats them, as it glides along. 2 The Vale of Cluyd. VI. Bright Phbus sunk, dim twilight now succeeds, Still gleaming dubious with uncertain ray, While tremblingly among the vocal reeds The evning breezes still more faintly play. VII. Amid this beauteous, soft, and flowry scene, On a high bank, all listless, I reclind; Whose shelving sides were crownd with lively green, By tufted trees and bordring flowrs confind. VIII. Here, while the landscape faded on my sight, Wild Fancys eye still brighter scenes supplyd; I viewd not the last track of parting light, Nor markd the fanning breezes as they dyd. IX. At length, Imagination, roving maid, Though gentle sleep had fetterd all my powrs In golden chains, my busy soul conveyd To other landscapes and immortal bowrs. X. Methought I stood amidst a garden fair, Whose bounds no sight of mortal eye could trace, Situate midway, betwixt earth, seas, and air, Unmarkd by Time, uncircumscribd by Space. XI. Not half so sweet was that delightsome dale, Which to my waking view appeard so bright; For here did neverceasing suns prevail, With mildest sweetness tempring heavnly light. XII. Spring breathd eternal glories oer the land: And gentlest winds, oer fragrant lawns that blow, Nursd beauteous buds unset by mortal hand, And opning flowrs that without planting grow. XIII. Serene the heavns, save where a cloudy shrine, Big with clestial plenty, saild on high, Showrd Springs own roses from her seat divine, And drew a purple radiance oer the sky. XIV. Meanwhile, soft music echoing from each grove, Tund to enchanting notes most soft and clear, That breathd the soul of harmony and love, Thrilld the rapt breast, and charmd the listning ear. XV. And still the while, with voices loud and sweet, The warbling birds in dulcet concert joind, The waters murmring flow with cadence meet, Low answerd by the gently whispring wind. XVI. These themes of wonder silent I surveyd, Attentive hanging on each dying sound; Pleasd with the glories which I saw displayd, And scenes of joy and pleasure opning round. XVII. Yet still methought a certain want appeard, Of some to own this spot, so heavnly fair, Else were each charming flowret vainly reard, To bloom unnoticd to the desart air: XVIII. Else, were in vain these soft melodious strains, Which the whole soul of harmony inspird, Pourd to the wild woods and the lonely plains, Though worthiest still by all to be admird. XIX. Such were creations first imperfect hours, When the gay heavns in early beauty shone, And earth, bedeckd with beasts, birds, plants, and flowrs, Spread all her bosom to the genial sun; XX. Unfinishd still the mighty work appeard, Till Man, the lord of all, was bid to rise; With open brow his face divine who reard, And sought with upright look his native skies. XXI. Thus as I pausd, still louder swelld the notes, From evry bush, and brake, and echoing hill; While choirs clestial seemd to tune their throats, And, with glad voice the chearful chorus fill. XXII. Then, by some magic powr swift snatchd away, Evn to the midst of that delightful land, I viewd at once all clad in bright array, A thousand Genii of the gardens stand. XXIII. But far above all these a seat was placd, Dressd with each flowr that evry season knows, Whose varyd tints, in gemlike order, gracd The rural theatre which gradual rose. XXIV. For lo! the Genius of each blooming flowr Brought his own favrite with peculiar care, To deck the arch of this inchanted bowr, And, bowing at the throne, he placd it there. XXV. A sight more beauteous neer did eye behold, Than these bright tribes that glitterd on the day; And, rich in purple dyes and flaming gold, Did their bright bosoms to the sun display. XXVI. Such was the throne;but oh! what pen can trace The heavnly beauties of the matchless Two, Who, glowing with each bright clestial grace, Sat there aloft, conspicuous to the view! XXVII. The first, a youth of sweet and gentle mien, With many a wreath and knotted garland crownd; Whose beauteous visage glowd with charms serene, And on whose shoulders purple wings were bound: XXVIII. These when he spreads, reviving Nature pours Her copious treasures of immortal bloom; Whilst through vast realms he scatters vernal stores, And from his downy pinions shakes perfume. XXIX. His name was ZEPHYRUS; and next him sat The beauteous goddess of the blooming year, The constant partner of his rural state, To heavn and earth, to gods and mortals dear; XXX. FLORA, bright powr, who sheds a thousand sweets Oer thousand lands, what time her gifts appear, What time her consort with his kisses greets Her coral lips, and wakes the rising year. XXXI. Her beauteous face was deckd with youthful pride, Her graceful form in flamy robes was dressd; And evry charm wild Nature could provide, Adornd her head, and beamd upon her breast. XXXII. Beside the throne, rangd in fair order, stood The various Seasons of the rolling year; By all their train of months, weeks, days, pursud: And all their various symbols flourishd here. XXXIII. First came the SPRING, led by the rosy Hours, With all the Loves and Graces in her train; Deckd with her wreath of neverfading flowrs, Diffusing odours oer the smiling plain. XXXIV. Next SUMMER came; his cheeks with ardour fird, With his own blushing fruits and harvests crownd; Before whose face the infant Spring retird, And with her roses strewd the russet ground. XXXV. Staind with the grapes pressd juice, with steadier pace, Still looking backward on preceding time, Ripe AUTUMN next succeeded in his place; Scattring rich fruits, the growth of evry clime. XXXVI. Last WINTER comes, with heavy step and flow, A hoary captive bound in icy chains; With haggard eyes, and mantle dippd in snow, Who still of cold in Springs own realms complains. XXXVII. Not one of these, but from their various store Some offring meet to lovely Flora pay; Not one of these, but with that offring more, And her soft reign most willingly obey. XXXVIII. Evn WINTERS self, with look averted, throws, His thinstrewn flowrets on the goddess shrine; Evn his cold bosom for a moment glows, When he beholds her radiant form divine. XXXIX. But now the Genii of each plant and flowr, Rangd in fair order, wait her high commands; And each, approaching her delicious bowr, In expectation of her verdict stands. XL. For many of the gardens painted race, And some that with their colours deck the field, Rivals in wealth, in beauty, and in grace, Had wagd high wars, unknowing how to yield. XLI. All claimd preferment, and each one could boast Of some bright beauty or perfection dear, Which should induce mankind to prize her most, And to preferment make her title clear. XLII. And some, of empty shew and titles vain; Alas! that Pride so many should deceive! Claimd oer their kindred plants and flowrs to reign: And of their birthright others would bereave. XLIII. The Crown Imperial, and the spurious Flowr Which boasts of royal arms and royal mien3; The warlike Plant that claims immortal powr4, And that gay lady calld the Meadows Queen. XLIV. All these, and more, that scornd a subject state, Rose to the claim of high imperial sway: Forgettingto be good was to be great They rose to rule, unpractisd to obey. XLV. Others again for beautys meed contend, Chief amidst whom appeard the Tulip race; A painted tribe, born only to contend For praise, where all is givn external grace. XLVI. Alca proud5; and lovely Venus joy, That does from adverse winds its title claim6; The once conceited, selfadmiring Boy7, Whose love prepostrous gave a flowr a name. 3 Iris, or Fleur de lis. 4 Larkspur. 5 The Hollyhock. 6 Anemone, or Wind Flower. 7 Narcissus. XLVII. The proud Carnation dippd in brightest dyes, Who still with thirst of praise and glory burns; With her whose mirrour cheats deluded eyes8, And she that still to her lovd Phbus turns9. XLVIII. There, with their numrous chiefs of diffrent hues, The painted Cocks Comb, and his lofty train, Their beauties vaunting, to the rest refuse To share the glories of their gaudy reign. XLIX. The judges sat, each seprate claim was heard, While some for rule, and some for praises, sought; And some had been disgracd, and some preferrd, As in the goddess mind their various pleadings wrought L. But her lovd consort, gently whispring, said: What means my Queen, on these to cast her sight, Who have but pride or lust of sway displayd, Nor brought their real worth or virtues to the light? 8 Bell Flower, Corn Violet, or Venuss LookingGlass. 9 Clytie, or the SunFlower. LI. How many absent now, more fair than these, With greater fragrance in lone valleys blow? Or, if the gardens flowry tribe more please, Where do the Rose and lovely Vilet glow? LII. The Lily where, and all that numrous host, Who claim true praise to innate virtue due; Or do they merit least who loudest boast, And with false glare impose upon the view? LIII. For sure, of all who feel my genial gale, Or to the sun their fragrant breasts unfold, The best and sweetest that on earth prevail, Yet do I not in this fair court behold. LIV. He said; and FLORA, rising from her throne, Bade present search for evry one be made: Who, though their offrings on her altar shone, Their modest haste had from the court conveyd. LV. Strait they returnd:The lovely blushing Rose, The Lily ever chaste and ever fair, The Vilet sweet with purple tints that glows, And Myrtle green, that scents the ambient air: LVI. With many more, grateful to sight and smell, By bounteous heavn with matchless charms endud; That in the fragrant meads or gardens dwell, Or which wild wastes from human eyes seclude. LVII. These by their Genii now in modest guise, Excusd from pleading midst the mingled throng. Claimd but the tribute all allowd their prize, Nor sought their own just praises to prolong. LVIII. Yet, these once seen, abashd their rivals stand; And would have fled, but FLORA this denyd; Who, rising graceful, with her outstretchd hand, Thus briefly to th assembled powrs applyd: LIX. Genii of gardens, meads, and sylvan scenes, Attendant still in FLORAS vernal train, Say what this ardent, fond contention means, Why strive you thus for powr, and strive in vain? LX. Are you not all beneath our sceptre blest; Say, do not all confess our gentle sway? Then seek not one to triumph oer the rest, But each in peaceful order still obey. LXI. So all the glories of my reign shall share, So all be still in poets songs renownd, So shall my ZEPHYR still with gentlest air, Wave oer your beds, with bloom eternal crownd. LXII. And you, who not for powr, but beautys charms, For gaudy tints, still fiercely would contend; What envious fire such gentle bosoms warms? And where, alas! must the mad contest end? LXIII. Each has her charms, and each peculiar worth, To all in various portions duly givn, By secret Nature working at its birth, The lavish bounty of indulgent Heavn. LXIV. Each has her charms:but view the blushing Rose, Behold the beauties of the Lily fair; Few boast of equal excellence to those, Yet with their modest merit none compare. LXV. These, therefore, we prefer; and though no Queen Besides Ourselves we will to hold the reign; Yet, for their true desart conspicuous seen, We rank them foremost on the flowry plain. LXVI. Hear, and obey; and if aught else abide, To raise dispute among your orders bright; Still by true merit let the cause be tryd, And specious shew yield to more solid right. LXVII. She spoke;the Seasons, and the winged Hours, Confirmd her voice; then breathd a rich perfume, Which ZEPHYR scatterd wide oer all the flowrs, And deckd their leaves with more than mortal bloom. LXVIII. Then, his lovd consort straining in his arms, With gentlest touch salutes her swelling breast; Who strait shone forth in more refulgent charms, As JUNO when by vernal JOVE caressd. LXIX. And sudden joining in a mazy dance, The airy phantoms of the scene appeard; Some to the sprightly timbrel did advance, While some their clear harmonious voices reard. LXX. But One among the rest, who viewd me stand Intent, and gazing on the prospect near, Came forth, and gently touchd my trembling hand, And bade me mark his words, and nothing fear: LXXI. And seest thou not (said he) these varyd flowrs, Contending still for beauty or for sway? Such are the contests which employ mans hours, In lifes short, busy, transitory day. LXXII. For what is gaudy beautys shortlivd bloom, The pomp of powr, of riches, or of pride; Soon buryd in the undistinguishd tomb, Which all their boasted pomp at once must hide? LXXIII. VIRTUE alone survives, immortal maid! Her truly amaranthine flowr shall blow, When all the rest are wrapt in dusky shade, And laid in dark and dusty ruins low. LXXIV. Hear, and attend!improve the moral strain, So mayst thou sail safe through lifes dangrous sea; So from these scenes thou wisdom mayst attain, And FLORA prove MINERVAS self to thee. LXXV. He ceasd; and well I markd the prudent lore, And much revolvd his saying in my mind; Bent all the mystic moral to explore, By this romantic, splendid scene designd. LXXVI. But, the full concert swelling on my ear, The bands of Sleep dissolvd, away he flies; At once the train of phantoms disappear, And on my waking sight the vision dies. LXXVII. No longer now near FLORAS bowr I stood, But viewd with opning eyes the rising day; Then down the Valley fair my path pursud, And homeward took my solitary way. FABLES OF FLOWERS. Illustration: Fab. I The Holly Hock  Lily of the Vale Illustration: Fab. II The Aloe in Blossom FABLE I. The HOLLYHOCK and the LILY of the VALE. I. Twas early morn, Sols radiant beams Illumd the landscape round. The dewdrops glitterd on the day, And gemlike deckd the ground. II. Within the gardens culturd walks A Hollyhock there grew; And there the Lily of the Vale Kept humble distance due. III. Elate with pride, the gaudy flowr Expands its swelling breast; And, joying in the vernal scene, The LILY thus addressd: IV. What dost thou here, mean paltry thing, Go blow in yonder field; Nor thus disgrace fair FLORAS tribes, That heavnly beauties yield. V. Go, with thy faint and sickly hue; Some chearless vale adorn; But here intrude not on our reign, Nor drink the dew of morn. VI. Whilst I with heightend colours glow, In Summers livry gay; Imbibe the softest tints of light, And glitter on the day. VII. Me yonder golden sun shall warm, At morn and noontide hour; And me his evning beams attend, Like his own favrite flowr. VIII. Nor yonder Rose, nor Bacchus Plant, Which twining near me grows, Can boast more excellence than me, Or brighter dyes disclose. IX. Hence thou! nor this fair spot profane, Where fairer flowrets blow; Return again to shades obscure, And there neglected grow. X. The LILY heard, with decent grace, That scornd the boasters pride; Then from her lone, unenvyd bed She thus in brief replyd; XI. From vaunting loud what fame is gaind, To raise the boasters name; Or might not yonder blushing Rose Exert a fairer claim? XII. And many a flowr that round thee blows, In the bright garb of Spring; Or, rich in elegant perfumes, That scent the Zephyrs wing. XIII. The vine, with purple clusters deckd, Shall soon rich sweets bestow; Whilst thou, a barren flowr at best, Art only made for show. XIV. For ME;what Nature formd, I am; I envy not thy pride; Nor seek to raise a greater boast, By Providence denyd. XV. Yet in some dark and dangrous hour, When tempests rude assail; Evn thou mayst wish the humbler state Of LILY OF THE VALE. XVI. Safe from her humble spot she said, And viewd the changing sky; From opning clouds the thunders break, The livid lightnings fly. XVII. Full on the gardens lofty wall, The flowrs exalted place, The fires thereal swiftly fall, And rend its solid base. XVIII. And now the boasters trust and pride Assurd her overthrow; Her glories buried in the dust, By one destructive blow. XIX. The LILY viewd the ruind flowr, And strait this Moral drew; Beauty and Pride are idly vain, But Praise is Merits due. XX. Daughters of Albion, timely wise, Attend the moral tale; And imitate with prudent care THE LILY OF THE VALE. FABLE II. The ALOE in BLOSSOM. I. From warmer climates early borne, Where beams the god of light; How gaily blooms yon lofty plant, In native colours bright! II. The root, the plant, the leaf, the flowr, Alike our wonder raise; And all confess the fragrant stock, Renownd in ancient days. III. Some say, but one revolving age Beholds thy beauties spread; And rear aloft to genial suns Its highly blooming head. IV. But thou, like Merit, kindly nursd, An early spring wilt know; While, checkd by rigid, frowning skies, Thy gems forget to glow. V. Emblem of Genius rarely known, And still more rarely givn; To reap the good itself imparts, And share the gifts of Heavn. VI. Say, glorious stranger, reard erewhile In distant, sunny lands; Can either India more bestow, Than Albions isle commands? VII. In western and in southern climes Too long hast thou been placd; And Indias sands, and Africs wilds, Thy beauteous presence gracd. VIII. Deign then, O sovreign plant, thy balm, On this our land bestow; And give thy flowrs in all their grace And lustre here to blow. IX. The Guardian Sylph, that watchd the flowr, Confessd before me stood; And shook his bright and sunny locks, And thus my suit withstood: X. Cease, cease, he cryd, such boons to ask, As scarce deserve a name; While Albion, favourd from above, Can greater blessings claim. XI. Still, still, their gems and spicy store, Let either India boast; And Afric vaunt the precious sands, That glitter on her coast. XII. Not these, nor all the hidden wealth, That earth or sea possess; Can match those richer gifts of heavn, Which fair Britannia bless. XIII. Peace, Freedom, Wealth from farthest shores, By golden commerce brought; All these are hers, and evry good, By happiest nations sought. XIV. Nor this alone; here Genius blooms, A Flowr excelling mine. Nor asks a whole revolving age, In glories to refine. XV. Here too the Fair, with beauty bright, The hearts of heroes warm; Those human blossoms genial blow, And put forth evry charm. XVI. Cease then, nor envy other climes Their beauties thinly strewn; But learn with decent pride to prize The blessings of your own. Illustration: Fab. III. The Rose  Hornet Illustration: Fab. IV. The Sensitive Plant FABLE III. The ROSE and the HORNET. I. Deep in a lone sequesterd vale, Where many a streamlet flows; And nursd by many a gentle gale, Soft bloomd a damask Rose. II. The Summers suns, the Zephyrs bland, All ownd her peerless queen; The honeyd Bee, Springs sweetest child, Oft sought her breast serene. III. Her beauties opning on the day, With evry grace were crownd; Imbibd the golden solar beam, And deckd the desart ground. IV. Daughter of Nature, still she blowd, Where human face neer shone; And spread her blossoms to the view But of the Sun alone. V. Pride of the East, a brighter glow, Beyond our gardens bloom, Bade her with heightend beauty blush, And scatter rich perfume. VI. Her rudely rushing through the air An angry HORNET spyd; Vowd to enjoy the heavnly flowr, In all her blooming pride. VII. Bold son of heat, with rudest haste, His course he strait addressd; To rifle all her charms in spite, And riot on her breast. VIII. He searchd each leaf, each blossom wounds With rude unhallowd rage; Yet nothing could his search explore, His passion to assuage. IX. The beauteous flowr, though wildly rent, No sweetness would afford; But hurt by many a vengeful thorn, His rashness he deplord. X. At length, thus baffled and deceivd, Enragd, he silence broke; And now of evry hope bereft, He thus insulting spoke; XI. Vain gaudy flowr, they term thy breast Engaging, bright, and fair; Who seek thy bosom, neer shall find Or joy or sweetness there. XII. The Bee indeed, thy favrite, still Says, Honey springs from thee; Yet nought but trouble, care, and pain, Hast thou bestowd on me. XIII. Then boast no more thy beauteous form That still excites desire; Since Thorns alone thou canst bestow, To quench a lovers fire. XIV. Then thus the Rose,Intruder vile! Who thus wouldst force employ; Though armd with powr; know tis not thine To taste substantial joy. XV. The Bee, who sips each sweet that glows In lawn or shady bowr, Tastes all the honey as he flies, But never wounds the flowr. XVI. Whilst thou, both impious and unwise, Of all our tribes the scorn: For evry violated sweet Shalt always meet a thorn. FABLE IV. The SENSITIVE PLANT. I. Rare plant, or flowr, or nymphlike tree, With human sense endud; Why dost thou shrink beneath the touch, And bear but to be viewd? II. Say does some Hamadryad chuse In that green stem to live? And to her highly favourd shrine This strong sensation give? III. Well for thy sake their ancient oaks The woodnymphs might forsake; And in thy purer bosom with Their lovd abodes to make. IV. Yet why indignant from each hand Alike dost thou retire? Does evry touch, replete with ill, Alike thy hate inspire? V. Too cautious nymph! well mightst thou deign To some thy breast unfold; Sure those would worship at the touch, Who love when they behold. VI. Shrunk in herself, with modest grace The Plant thus fair replyd, Whateer my source, my maiden state But ill agrees with pride10. 10 This flower is encompassed with thorns, and its root is said to have a poisonous quality. VII. In purity alone I joy; I seek no other fame, But that which from chaste wishes grows, And suits a virgins name. VIII. Nymphs of the woods, the groves, and streams, Too oft have found the smart Of looser fires, which, once indulgd, Will rankle in the heart. IX. Me no rude touch shall eer profane; That guard if once I leave, Of evry virtue well I know Mankind would me bereave. X. Nor this alone, know, curious youth, A thorny mail I own; Foe to the rash unthinking hand That violates my throne. XI. And evn within this spotless breast Does deadly venom spring; So he that ravishes the sweets, May meet the mortal sting. XII. Go then, and range from flowr to flowr, Amidst the gaudy train: But sacred be my homely plant, To brighthaird Vestas reign. XIII. She ceasd; nor I the flowr profand, To chastity devote; But on the sand with rustic pen, This sacred moral wrote: XIV. The Nymph who slights strict virtues guard, Shall quickly meet a snare; And Pleasures, raisd on Virtues bane, Are fatal, as theyre fair. Illustration: Fab. V The Hawthorn  Primrose Illustration: Fab. VI The White Rose  Red FABLE V. The HAWTHORN and the PRIMROSE. I. Beneath a wild and rustic shade, Impervious to the view; In the sweetsmiling month of May, A lovely Primrose grew. II. The gentle child of early Spring By bounteous FLORA crownd; With vernal beauties born to deck The unfrequented ground. III. The brightest dye, the sweetest scent, Her yellow leaves could yield; Were spent upon the empty air, Nor eer adornd the field. IV. For round her grew a bushy brake, With many a thorn beset; And many a weed obscene and foul Deformd the green retreat. V. But high above the rest advancd A spreading Hawthorn rose; Whose lengthend branches overhung The seat of her repose. VI. Her gemlike blossoms wide displayd The darkling dell adorn; With grateful fragrance kiss the wind, And drink the dew of morn. VII. Her the lone Rose in mournful guise Full many a day had eyd; And thus at length one summers eve She all impatient cryd. VIII. Ah Thorn! the bane of all my hopes! Ah Thorn! that woundst my peace! Still must I view thy branches spread, And still my woes increase: IX. I who long since had, happier far, Been by some fair caressd; Had drunk the radiance of her eye, And panted on her breast? X. What have I done, O wretch! that still This evil treatment meets; Or hast thou aught in lieu to give To those who lose my sweets? XI. She said:the Hawthorn thus replyd, Fond pageant of an hour! Art thou displeasd because I bloom, Though shelterd by my powr? XII. And knowst thou not that but for me Thy boasted bloom were vain; By grazing herds trod under foot, And leveld with the plain? XIII. Thee I protect; myself am known Among the warlike race; Whom Nature arms with prompt defence Of most excelling grace. XIV. Nor idly I these weapons wear, Nor idle is my bloom; One arms me for myself and thee; The other sheds perfume. XV. And oft as this returning month Adds vigour to the year; Crownd with my gems in rustic dance The nymphs and swains appear. XVI. Me the fleet hare, and timrous fawn, Seek at their greatest need; They rest secure beneath my shade, And on my bounty feed. XVII. But most the plaintive Philomel, Sweet warbler of the grove, Joys midst my branches to repose, And sing her hapless love. XVIII. Against my thorns her bosom placd, She strains her tuneful throat; And by my useful aid exalts Each sweetly trilling note. XIX. Sacred to FLORA, of her train Although no flowr am I; And born to flourish many a moon, When thou shalt fade and die. XX. Cease then, nor envy this my state, Which must thy own defend; The thorns I bear shall save thy flowr, And prove thy surest friend. XXI. So spake the HAWTHORN, justly wise; The ROSE unanswring heard: I caught the Moral, as it rose; And thus its sense appeard: XXII. Lifes humble vale is most secure; Cares on th exalted wait: Yet those who well the weak protect Deserve UNENVYD STATE. FABLE VI. The WHITE ROSE and the RED. I. Contending beauties, whom the doom Of Fate has still assignd Two fragrant rival flowrs to blow, And scent the western wind; II. The WHITE ROSE and the BLUSHING RED, Each one the gardens pride, With equal grace their leaves displayd, And flourishd side by side. III. The first of spotless beauty vain That sudden caught the eye, The last attentive praise to gain From her more sanguine dye. IV. Of sovreign virtue both well known, Both favourd from above: Still full of glory rose each flowr, Emblems of gentle Love. V. Yet twixt their stocks wild feuds subsist, To work them lasting woe; Whilst each of other still complaind, And strove her overthrow. VI. Shame, said the RED, on that pale hue, Which speaks the wearers heart; That, void of virtue as of grace, No colour can impart. VII. Unlike the blushes that adorn My flowr with colour meet, AURORAS, when she wakes the day, Appear not half so sweet. VIII. Nay! Shame on thee, the White replyd, Whose blush by guilt was givn: Evn by the blood of VENUS shed, Our patroness in Heavn11. IX. Till then like me all Roses were, Whose ancient stock I claim; And, void of crime, still reprobate Their colour with their name. X. This and much more she angry said: But JOVES immortal flowr12 Their illmeant conversation broke, With soft, persuasive powr. 11 According to the old Fable, the Rose was at first always white, till Venus, while she was pursuing Adonis, scratched herself with its thorns, and thereby stained it with her clestial blood. 12 The Amaranth. XI. Forbear, she cryd, in haughty guise, Reproachful to contend: Whoeer the victrix, small her gain, That thus can lose a friend. XII. Allyd by Nature in your kind, And diffring but in Hue: You both possess intrinsic worth, And outward beauty too. XIII. Long was the strife your13 ancient state, In this our isle pursud; Which many a year drenchd either Rose, In seas of kindred blood. XIV. Oh! may no more such horrors rise, Within our Gardens pale: But all with emulation strive, That concord may prevail! 13 Alluding to the Civil Wars of York and Lancaster, in which the White Rose and the Red were adopted as tokens or devices by their different partisans. XV. May civil feuds and rancrous hate From hence be banishd far; Foul is that strife, where friends contest, And wage inhuman war. XVI. Then to this solemn truth give ear; Where trifles thus are prizd, If two for victory contend; They both will be despisd. Illustration: Fab. VII. The Crocus Illustration: Fab. VIII. Anemone  Passion Flower FABLE VII. The CROCUS. I. Say, beauteous flowr, whose burnishd leaves With Springs own livery glow: In these bleak months, why dost thou chuse T adorn a waste of snow? II. Say, dost thou grudge to summerskies, That bloom divinely bright: Or, are thy beauties clearer seen, Through this thin Robe of White? III. The Snowdrop, thy companion fair, As well thy foil might prove, And both might bloom in seasons sweet, And far from hence remove. IV. To Summers gayer months benign; Shouldst thou transfer thy reign, Thy beauties still would brighter glow, And doubly grace the plain. V. I said:the lovely smiling flowr, The beauty of its race; And friendly to the sons of men, Replyd with decent grace: VI. Natures great book before thee set: She blames thee not to scan Her works on every side displayd, The fit employ of man. VII. When Spring and Summer glad the earth, Ten thousand beauties bloom; And various flowrs of brightest hue, Diffuse a rich perfume. VIII. Autumn of fruits her tribute brings, With, yellow harvests crownd; Then laugh the hills and vales, and meads With richest plenty crownd. IX. Winter, at length, with gloomy brow, Comes on to close the year; When flowrs and fruits, and all their race, Almost extinct appear. X. Yet still some few the gracious Powrs Permit of these to bloom: Nor heap alike all FLORAS race, In one remorseless tomb. XI. And soon as to the watry Signs, The Sun retreats again; Then she my flamy dyes awakes, And bids me deck the plain. XII. Nor less my worth because midst snows, My head I early rear; My flowr still fresh and lively blooms, As at the closing year. XIII. And know, when Autumns Sun prevails, My kindred flowrs arise; In forms which heavnly powrs might praise, And scent the ambient skies14. XIV. These evry dismal gloom dispel; Which misry can impart, And joy and gladness still inspire, And harmonize the heart. XV. Meanwhile my earlier station here, (Healths harbinger) I keep, To glad the sad and cloudy days; When Springs soft Zephyrs sleep. 14 It is here to be noted that the autumnal Crocus is the Saffron Flower, so famous in Medicine. XVI. So, in the Winter of his days, Chear thou thy drooping friend; His sorrows sooth, his griefs assuage, And prompt assistance lend. XVII. So, when his fate and fortune lour, Thy better aid impart; And with thy fortunes warmer ray, Revive his dying heart. XVIII. She said;the moral well became The sweet, propitious flowr; I markd the lore with heedful mind, And ownd fair FRIENDSHIPS powr. FABLE VIII. The ANEMONE and the PASSION FLOWER. I. Bright flowr renownd in ancient times, Amidst the Cyprian shades; The theme of wonder and of praise To soft Sidonian maids. II. Hail! Goddessborn! hail! thou producd From the bright mingled flood Of VENUS tears, as bards have sung, And her ADONIS blood. III. Rich are thy blossoms in each hue That can inchant the fight; And strike at once the ravishd eye With wonder and delight. IV. Hail! sacred Plant, born but to shew ADONIS yearly wound; By gentle VENUS taught to bloom, With heavnly beauties crownd. V. I said; when lo; an awful form Upon my orgies broke; And, like some bright clestial powr, In lofty accents spoke: VI. Hence, thou profane; nor wound me thus With thy unhallowd song; But turn, and see, who blossoms here, To whom thy strains belong. VII. The Tyrian Boy, and VENUS self; Before my face shall fly; Their beauty gone, their lustre lost, And all their charms shall die. VIII. I am the only flowr on earth, With signs divine adornd; By me, of Heavn thus favourd high, All Pagan Gods are scornd. IX. The purple ring, the bloody crown, The nails, and guilty spear, That slew the Lord of Life, behold In my symbolic sphere. X. Deep to Lethan shades my root Still downward seems to tend; As from the Crosss sacred base, To Hell it would descend. XI. Then here thy misplacd revrence shew, And bow before this shrine; Where Angel Hosts themselves might pray, And own the Plant divine. XII. She said; ADONIS flowret bowd, As to superior powr; My conscious heart was struck with dread; Before the wondrous flowr. XIII. But whilst intent my revrence there With honour due to pay; The heavns withdrew their useful light, And closd the hours of day. XIV. I lookd;no more those signs I saw, Which had my revrence drawn: For ever shut the mirrour stood15, Which thus had gracd the lawn. XV. A while I gazd; at length I cryd, And art THOU mortal too? Are all THY sacred beauties fled, Or faded on the view? 15 This flower opens in the morning, and fades away in the evening, closing up, and never opening again. XVI. Vain then is all external awe, That images impart; And HE that rules above is best Recorded in the HEART. Illustration: Fab. IX. The Lily  Narcissus Illustration: Fab. X. The Ivy  Sweet Briar FABLE IX. The LILY and NARCISSUS. I. Ah! hapless discontented flowr, That yellow leaves adorn; Who once in lifes gay vernal pride The brightest nymphs couldst scorn. II. Hard was thy lot, and short thy date, By form too fair undone; Thou metst, alas! a timeless doom, Ere half thy course was run. III. Unhappy, selfadmiring youth, A lesson thou shalt prove; T avoid vain pride, that idle toy, And shun prepostrous love. IV. Fair when a boy, now changd, no more Those beauties canst thou boast; But ever sadly mayst repent In vain those beauties lost. V. View yonder Lilys snowy pride, Sprung from a seed divine; Then own how much her beauty bright, Fond flowr, outrivals thine! VI. With modest grace the Lily bowd The honours of her head; Then, with a sweet and modest grace, She thus instructive said: VII. Well may they droop, to whom their fate, With form divinely fair, No other, better boon has givn To make that beauty dear. VIII. For not this glossy white I bear, Delight of human eyes; Nor this so graceful form admird, Are what I wish to prize. IX. From heavnly strain16 I first arose, Emblem of chaste desires; And still that chastity retain, And check unhallowd fires. X. No empty selfadmirer, I Would Follys trophies raise; Such virtue then let all applaud, Not empty beauty praise. 16 According to the Old Fable, Jupiter being willing to make Hercules immortal, caused him to suck Juno while she was asleep; when the milk gushing out into a great quantity, some of it being spilt upon the sky, made the galaxy or milky way there, while the rest falling to the earth, gave birth to the White Lily. XI. She said; and strait the moral found Deep entrance in my breast; BEAUTY, if not with VIRTUE joind, Is but an idle jest. FABLE X. The IVY and SWEET BRIAR. I. Hail, sacred IVY! hail, I said, Devote to BACCHUS shrine; Parent of wreaths, which deck the brows Of Gods and men divine. II. Why call thee baleful, why despise Thy ancient friendly race; Who clasp the Elm and sturdy Oak In mystical embrace. III. MINERVAS bird too deigns to dwell Where thou art frequent seen; Who loves the calm and peaceful hour, And courts the deep serene. IV. Thou, like the Vine, thy patrons joy, Thy nurture wilt receive, And, twining close with friendly arms, Wilt still supported live. V. With PHBUS laurel justly thou Mayst hold divided claim; The crown of glorious conquerors, And meed of deathless fame. VI. Thus whilst I spoke, the West wind rose, And scatterd rich perfume, From thickets, where sweet Eglantine Appeard in vernal bloom. VII. Thence a soft voice salutes my ear, Which thus complaining said; Fond youth, to yonder noxious weed Why all these honours paid? VIII. The Vine, tis true, will wed her Elm; But view the dowr she brings! From yonder steril, forcd embrace Alas! what profit springs? IX. Like a false friend, too sure, she twines, Intent but to destroy; As Jealousy, Loves offspring, still Impoisons all Loves joy. X. How poor that virtue, which retires To solitude for aid! How weak that wisdom, which can shine Alone in nights dun shade! XI. And what, though gods and godlike men Their victor brows have bound With ivyd wreaths; is then the weed For that alone renownd? XII. Say rather, in that purer age, When spotless honour reignd; The victor, seeking only fame, A worthless crown obtaind. XIII. Hence Ivy, Parsley, Oaken Boughs, Their labour well repaid, Who not for gain, but glorys charms, Their genrous strength displayd. XIV. But thou, regardful of fair truth, And glory justly gaind; Scorn the frail claim of upstarts base, By such false means obtaind. XV. Not borrowd names from high descent, Are real honours meed; But they alone are GREAT, whose fame Springs from THEIR OWN fair deed. Illustration: Fab. XI. The Violet Transplanted Illustration: Fab. XII. The Tulip  Amaranth FABLE XI. The VIOLET TRANSPLANTED. I. Where fragrant fieldflowrs, gaily spread, Drink deep the morning dew; Close by a murmring rivlets side An humble Vilet grew. II. To her the culturd spot unknown, She bloomd in her retreat; And there in native fragrance blessd, Dispersd a world of sweet. III. But yet not undisturbd her lot By Providence was cast; For oft the herds went grazing forth And laid the meadow waste. IV. And oft the travlers careless step Had laid her on the plain; Yet, by the living streamlet fed, She soon revivd again. V. At length a curious Florist saw The sweetly blooming flowr; Calld her the fields and gardens pride, And placd her in his bowr. VI. Here, with a thousand beauties rangd, Her elegance was lost; No more the culturd spot she gracd; No more fair FLORAS boast. VII. Abandond by his hand, who first Her charms with pleasure viewd; She in her rise beheld her fate, And now neglected stood. VIII. She droopd, she pind; the richer soil No nurture could afford; And oft in vain her humbler lot The fading flowr deplord. IX. The happier tribes that flourishd round Did each her state deride; Rejoicing that she paid so dear For what they deemd her pride. X. The Sun in Cancer flamd aloft Dry thirst her moisture drank; In vain she wishd the lucent flood, Or shade of osiers dank. XI. Oppressd at length she drooping fell, As ready to expire; Her bosom unresisting spread To Sols consuming fire. XII. When lo! from heavn a gentle rain Coold that too fervid ray; And soon revivd the beauteous flowr, Which glowd upon the day. XIII. Her bloom restord, renewd again; Her former lord attends; And midst the fairest of the fair She numbers now her friends. XIV. Yet, deeply struck with former ills, An humble flowr she blooms; No pride that lovely bosom knows, Whence ZEPHYR steals perfumes; XV. And to the Fair this useful truth She evermore reveals; That she best knows her Beautys force, Who modestly conceals. FABLE XII. The TULIP and the AMARANTH. I. Where various beauties mingled rise, All grateful to the view; With variegated beauties bright, A gaudy TULIP grew. II. Its leaves with flamy splendour shine, Mixd with more vivid green; And all the tints that deck heavns bow Upon the flowr are seen. III. The gently passing vernal air The beauteous plant caressd; And ZEPHYR ever pleasd reclind Upon the charmers breast. IV. While near at hand the GENTLE FLOWR, Calld AMARANTH, below The blooming guest of JOVES own seats, Deignd in her prime to grow. V. Yet she with hairs uncouthly deckd, Unlike the Tulip race, Is not among the flowrets found, Whose colours mark their grace. VI. This swelld her rivals empty pride, And, vain of empty shew; The Amaranth askance she eyd, And thus contemptuous spoke; VII. Of all the flowrs that deck the lawn, The progeny of Spring; And all that of maturer birth The later seasons bring: VIII. Of all that for their fairer forms May raise the justest claim; Of all that men for beauty prize, Or from perfection name: IX. Behold me, first and fairest known, Still lovd and valud most; Soft daughter of the vernal hour, The culturd gardens boast. X. Why deign I then so long with these To dwell without reserve; That scarce, though vulgar eyes they charm, The name of FLOWR deserve? XI. The blooming Amaranth, unmovd, Repressd her forward pride; The boasters arrogance despisd, And wisely thus replyd; XII. Yes, gaudy thing; thy various hues Are fine indeed and gay; Glaring thou glitterst on the sight, And flauntst it to the day! XIII. No flowr around more bright can blow, In beauty more mature! But tell me, false, frail, giddy thing, How long shall that endure? XIV. Me, not the least of FLORAS tribe, Me thou hast laughd to scorn, And deemd my claim to beauty vain, Although clestial born. XV. For know, though scarce allowd by thee To rank among the flowrs; From Heavn I draw my high descent, And bloomd in Edens bowrs. XVI. And still eternal is my race, No frail decay I know; But, emblem of the first great Spring, For ever bloom below. XVII. But thou! the pageant of an hour, Too quickly shalt deplore Those beauties withring all away, Which fade, to charm no more. XVIII. Thou, wretch! no second Spring shalt see, To renovate thy bloom; Whilst I survive the stroke of fate, And triumph oer the tomb. XIX. Cease then thy boast! in Wisdoms lore Go learn thyself to know; And by her neverfailing rule Judge all things here below. XX. A fleeting joy, a fading bloom, May charm the ravishd sight; That only which is truly good, Is lasting, as tis bright. Illustration: Fab. XIII. The Youth  Honeysuckle Illustration: Fab. XIV. Belinda  the Bluebell or Venuss Looking Glass FABLE XIII. THE HONEYSUCKLE. I. At height of noon, a youth reclind Beneath a woodbine bowr; Defended by whose thickning shade, He passd the sultry hour, II. But when mild breezes coold the air, And lengthning shadows rose; He scannd with philosophic mind The place of his repose. III. High overhead the twining boughs, Where thousand blossoms glow, Of evry beam of light bereave The cool alcove below. IV. Ah! (said the youth) ungrateful still! And dost thou thus repay The bounties of that glorious God, Who wakd thee into day? V. While he in his meridian course Illumines wide the sky; Dost thou, O wretch, resist his powr, And all his beams defy? VI. Unlike to thee, ingrate, behold The Sunflowr drinks his light; Lives, to his radiance ever true, And with him sinks to night. VII. But like some faithless favrite you, Or some more faithless fair; Spurn at the very powr that gracd, And made you what you are. VIII. Oh! useful lesson to be learnd, With scanty hand to pour Those blessings, which, when once conferrd, Shall neer be thought on more! IX. Unmovd the beauteous Woodbine heard, Then, nodding from on high, Shook the green honours of her brow, As thus she made reply: X. Vain is the hypocritic plea That gilds the selfish end; And base the poor unfeeling heart That ill repays a friend. XI. For me, not such my care illplacd; My blessings unconfind, I give each gentle breathing air, And scatter to the wind. XII. What if my leaves exclude that Powr By whom thou sayst I live; Yet He beholds me, while I bloom, A grateful tribute give. XIII. My fragrance, nay, that friendly shade, Which you ungrateful blame, Are offrings still to PHBUS self, Who nursd them with his flame. XIV. He, for the use of base mankind, Bade me all these dispense: For whom I spread these vernal charms, So pleasing to the sense. XV. Ungrateful THOU, thy illmeant charge Take back, so misapplyd: And fairly reason with thy heart, And check thy selfish pride. XVI. Thou, in my shadows late reclind, Couldst pass the hours at ease; Then, what is now ingratitude, Thy narrow mind could please. XVII. Take back the charge; thy maxim too; With thee let others use: Keep THOU this moral in thy mind, T enjoy, but not abuse. FABLE XIV. THE BLUEBELL; or, VENUSS LOOKINGGLASS. I. Oer verdant lawns, and dappled meads, The young BELINDA strayd; On evry tree, on evry flowr, Philosophisd the maid. II. The Cowslip, and the Primrose too, Had ofttimes been her theme; And yellow Crocus flaming dyes Had tingd her waking dream. III. For, roving oer the pathless grass, Or through the woodland wild; She oft with Contemplation walkd Bright Fancys sweetest child. IV. Absorbd and lost in Natures maze, Then rapt from earth she stood; And, pleasd, in all his various works, The great Creator viewd. V. Twas smiling May; the opning year With vernal grace was crownd; And evry plant, and evry flowr, Diffusd fresh fragrance round. VI. From culturd gardens far remote The beauteous charmer rovd; And listend to the birds wild notes, And rangd those meads she lovd. VII. To court the touch of her fair hand, Each fieldflowr eager pressd; To bask beneath her funny eyes, And kiss her snowy breast. VIII. Amongst the crowd, a flowr she spyd, Long since well known to fame; Of Venus Lookingglass whose pride Assumd the pompous name. IX. And how! she cryd, canst thou display, To captivate the sight, More than the stream, which yonder rolls Its glassy mirrour bright? X. She sought in vain; a bellshapd flowr, With Vilet blossoms crownd: Diffusd itself with mingled corn, And purpled oer the ground. XI. She pluckd, but strait away she cast The vain pretender far; Which angry ruffled all its flowrs, In vegetable war: XII. What had bright VENUS mirrour done, Thus to be cast aside? Or how (she said) could VENUS Nymph The Goddess gift deride? XIII. Peace! angry thing! BELINDA said; Not VENUS I despise; But you, who by your own false glass Would cheat deluded eyes. XIV. What boots it thus your high descent, As Goddessborn, to claim; If not one smallest trace appear Of your exalted name? XV. Go! in yon real mirrour view The form which you possess; Then speak but what you really are; And be your boasting less. XVI. A Bluebell of the finest dye, You well may be allowd; But Venus Lookingglass in vain Would cheat a giddy crowd. XVII. The haughty flowr corrected stood. Attend, ye British fair: Let not appearances prevail; Be real worth your care. XVIII. And know, whoeer by vain pretence Shall others seek to blind; Must stand abashd, when brought before The MIRROUR OF THE MIND. Illustration: Fab XV. The Larkspur  Myrtle Illustration: Fab XVI. The Poppy  SunFlower FABLE XV. The LARKSPUR and the MYRTLE. I. Favrite of MARS, amidst the tribes That on bright FLORA wait, And swell the glories of her reign With more than regal state; II. The Larkspur, plant of ancient stock, Advancd his ensign high; And claimd th immortal wreath of fame, Due to a Deity. III. Like some bold warriors is his mien; Helmet and spurs he wears; And on his coat of varyd dyes Each warlike blazon bears. IV. Proud of his form, and of the 17Powr That from his contact sprung; Exalted above all his peers, Thus Pride inspird his tongue: V. Ye painted, puling race, avaunt! To greater merit yield; Forego the honours of the day, When I dispute the field. VI. Far hence your tinsel trappings bear To some luxuriant bed, Where, nursd by ZEPHYRS wanton gales, Their idle bloom may spread! VII. In ME behold the warriors grace, And monarchs powr displayd; In me, to Heavn itself allyd, In martial pomp arrayd. 17 Juno is said to have conceived Mars by only touching the flower called Larkspur. VIII. Emblem of thundring MARS I rise, My boast and offspring too; Then own the progeny divine, And pay the tribute due. IX. The Myrtle heard;fair VENUS care, With peaceful honours crownd; The glory of the genial hour, By lovers still renownd. X. And how! said she, redoubted knight, Wouldst thou with US engage? Did ever MARS, of glory vain, Rough wars with VENUS wage? XI. Her flowr I am; her name I boast, Who can mankind subdue; And by a gentler method far Than any known to you. XII. Say, boaster, what are realms destroyd By many a foughten field; When desprate battles, bravely won, A bloody harvest yield? XIII. Can these atone the dreadful ills That wasteful wars supply; When from the horrid din of arms The Loves and Graces fly? XIV. Remember, when the blueeyd Maid With NEPTUNE did contend: Say, who the greatest gift producd; And let our contest end. XV. The Palm to PALLAS was decreed, Who namd fair ATHENS; there The warlike steed, great NEPTUNES boast, Yields to the Olive fair. XVI. Then thou, proud Knight, exult no more, Abase thy haughty crest; Give honour due to meekeyd Peace, And Love, her genial guest. XVII. Let then great MARS his Powr resign To brighter VENUS fame; And quit the glories of the field, When LOVE disputes the claim. FABLE XVI. The POPPY and the SUNFLOWER. I. Transplanted from the neighbring mead, Which long her presence gracd; The crimson POPPY reard her head, In the rich garden placd. II. Thence, fannd by many a gentle gale, Full oft her scent is borne; Both when the evning shades prevail, And at the rise of morn. III. At noon, when evn without her aid The flowrs all droopd around; CLYTIE, bright PHBUS lovesick maid, With all his glories crownd, IV. Still turning to his orb her face, Surveyd th intruding guest; And, foe to evry sleepy powr, The stranger thus addressd; V. Long have we seen each fieldflowr bloom Our culturd gardens shame: Which, hither brought, triumphant rise, And share our nobler fame: VI. Thou, drowsy POPPY, too, at last, Our rival dost appear, Replete with drugs, whose poisnous strength Corrupts the ambient air. VII. But think not here, insulting weed! (Fair CERES hate and bane) Thy drowsy magic shall prevail, To blot our brighter reign. VIII. Go, seek thy fields; with noxious weeds Divide detested sway: Or, where thy slumbers nought disturb, Shun the glad face of day. IX. Whilst I, to PHBUS ever true, Rejoicing in his light; To the great God his tribute pay, And check the powrs of Night. X. She spoke;The nodding POPPY then, Serene, made this reply: Proud flowr, I envy not thy state, Nor coat of richest dye. XI. What boastst thou of his genial powr, Who slighted all thy charms; And, in thy beautys brightest noon, Fled to anothers arms? XII. How didst thou mourn, and how revenge? LEUCOTHOE18 speaks thy crime; Whose odours still to Heavn ascend, And shall to latest time. 18 Apollo having forsaken Clytie for this Nymph; the former, in return, informed Leucothoes father of his daughters amour with Phbus. He thereupon buried Leucothoe alive; but Phbus changed her into a Frankincense Tree; and after this, Clytie being discarded by the God, who was beyond measure offended with her, she pined away, and was changed into a SunFlower. XIII. Not Love, but Pity, movd high Heavn To make thee what thou art; And place amidst the blooming flowrs A Nymph with broken heart. XIV. Cease then to vaunt thy heavnly love, Nor me so much despise; Full plain th advantages appear, Which from my powr arise. XV. Me CERES hates not; but my seed Great Nature near her sows; Where, far unlike a noxious weed, The beauteous flowret blows. XVI. Sleep, gentle God, the ease of grief, To weary man I bring; From care and pain the sweetest balm, Of vigrous health the spring. XVII. I, to the wretched friendly still, The mourning captives aid; My succour to the poor extend, And ease the lovesick maid. XVIII. Then what Heavn orderd for the best, Do thou no longer blame: Let me old MORPHEUS honours share, Joy thou in PHBUS flame. XIX. More need I add?Search Earth around, And thou shalt truly say, More Virtues in Lifes shade will bloom, Than in her blaze of day. Illustration: Fab. XVII. The Iris  Rose Illustration: Fab. XVIII. The Nasturtium  Wall flower FABLE XVII. The IRIS, or FLOWER de LUCE, and the ROSE. I. Yes, there are some who, proudly vain Still boast of others due; With empty titles cheat the crowd, And set false shows to view. II. Such ever ancient worth disgrace, Make real titles scornd; While by bright Honours genuine race Those titles are adornd. III. The fairest of sweet FLORAS tribe Boast not the proudest name; Nor men, with gaudiest titles deckd, Are truest sons of Fame. IV. What art thou, bold and spreading flowr, In fields and gardens known; That still assumst a Monarchs grace, And claimst a Pageant throne? V. Genius of nations, guardian powrs, That still on Monarchs wait! You your own plant shall still protect, An emblem of your state. VI. And, Goddess of the painted Bow! Still to thy flowr prove true; Allyd to thee, I justly claim Thy name and colours too19. 19 Iris being the name given to the Rainbow. VII. Which then of all the painted train That swell this gardens pride, Shall with my honourd name compare, Or sway with me divide? VIII. This markd the ROSE, a modest flowr, With maiden blushes bright; Who, vexd to hear the boasters vaunt, Asserts her native right. IX. What are thy titles vain, she said, That claim superior sway? Or why should all fair FLORAS tribes A rule like thine obey? X. False is thy boast; thy title vain Not Gallias self will own; Whose real LILIES droop and fade, Whereeer my flowrs are known. XI. Why IRIS?Why by Heavns own bow Wouldst thou thus climb to fame? Or cannot many a varyd flowr Exert a fairer claim? XII. Plain FLAG thou art;let that suffice; With LILIES I contend; But flowrs like thine I still regard, Alike as foe or friend. XIII. The vain pretender heard, abashd, And hung her drooping head; While to the genial fun her leaves The ROSE expanding spread. XIV. Her odour strait proclaimd her queen Of all the smiling flowrs; While the Bee sought the fragrant breast, And left his honeyd bowrs. XV. Thus to the ROSE the meed was givn; FLORA confirmd her reign; And worth, like hers, approvd by Heavn, Shall Heavn itself maintain. FABLE XVIII. The NASTURTIUM and the WALL FLOWER. I. Against a funny fence below The fair NASTURTIUM placd, Beheld how well its highest tops The fragrant WALLFLOWR gracd. II. Without some useful kind support Unable to survive; Ill could she bear another flowr By the same means should thrive. III. At length, one sultry summers noon, When radiant PHBUS shone On both alike with chearing ray, She envious thus begun: IV. Had I the WALLFLOWRS fragrant scent, Would I alone thus bloom; On yonder peak obscurely dwell, And waste my rich perfume! V. For shame, yield to inferior flowrs That strange and uncouth place; Nor, like some noxious worthless weed, Nurse there thy beauteous race. VI. Besides, I claim the humbler boon, Against this fence to blow; While thee the more indulgent Heavn May safely place below. VII. She spoke;the WALLFLOWR thus replyd, Ambition is not mine; My native place is still my joy: Do thou delight in thine. VIII. Full well I know that perils still On frequent change attend: And they oft spoil their present state, Who hasty strive to mend. IX. Nor less can I thy drift observe, Who, envious of my lot, Wouldst me of evry help bereave, Drawn from my native spot. X. Too selfish flowr, who vainly this Wouldst me of life deprive; And by my downfall thinkst to rise, And on my ruin thrive. XI. Know, that th allchearing lamp of day On both alike bestows His sovreign gifts; for All his light Without distinction glows. XII. Is not that source of genial fire Sufficient both to warm, That thou shouldst thus unkindly seek Thy quiet neighbours harm? XIII. And what if I consenting give, Ambitious! thy desire? Were I now low in ashes laid, Say, couldst thou climb the higher? XIV. For shame, th ungenrous wish forego, Rejoice in others joy; And lengthend scenes of double bliss Shall all thy hours employ. XV. For know, where Envys powr prevails, Peace, Love, and Joy, retire: Her votries feel eternal pains, And burn with ceaseless fire. XVI. Felicity with Concord dwells; And evry joy of peace Heavns sacred hand still bounteous gives, And blesses the increase. Illustration: Fab. XIX. The Lapland Rose. Illustration: Fab. XX. The Deadly Nightshade. FABLE XIX. THE LAPLAND ROSE. I. A wandring youth, by Fortune led To bleakest northern shores, Beyond the track of Russian wilds, Where Laplands tempest roars; II. Who twice the Arctic circle passd, And viewd bright HECLAS20 flame; At length, through many a waste of snow, To fair NIEMI21 came. 20 A Volcano in the North, whose sides are covered with snow. 21 The Mountains of NIEMI are in the neighbourhood of a lake of the same name, which is said by the inhabitants to be frequented by the immortal Genii. III. And thence where TENGLIO22 rolls his stream, Surveyd the prospect round; Beheld its banks with verdure deckd, And blushing roses crownd. 22 This River is bordered with Roses of as fine a bloom as those which grow in our gardens. IV. Stuck with the scene, a while he pausd, As lost in sweet delight; And eyd the fairest of the train In native beauty bright. V. Yet, as he viewd the stranger flowr, He deeply musing cries, How strange that beauties such as thine Midst climes like these should rise! VI. Thee no bright youth nor gentle fair Alas! shall eer caress; Nor splendid southern suns shall warm, Nor genial gales shall bless! VII. On hollow winds, oer distant plains, The murmring accents flew; NIEMIS mountains caught the sound, Which from the lake his shadows drew. VIII. And now before the youth confessd The Genius of the clime Appeard; who thus instructive spoke, In awful strains sublime; IX. Fond youth, who viewst that beauteous flowr, So luckless in thy fight! Forbear to mourn her lonely state, Whom these rude climes delight. X. Unrivald here she sweetly blooms, And scents the ambient air; Nor deems her brightest beauties lost, While fosterd by my care. XI. Nor envies she the gaudy tribe Beneath the southern skies, That bloom in some luxurious bowrs, Where mingled sweets arise. XII. The child of bounteous Nature! here She bids her bloom dispense Fresh sweets, the travlers soul to chear, And glad his wearyd sense. XIII. Her no bright youth nor gaudy fair Shall COURT but to DESTROY; But Laplands simple swains shall view, With unaffected joy; XIV. And, oft as yon returning Sun Illumes our northern sphere, Well pleasd shall trace these flowry banks, And pay their homage here. XV. Let others seek where spacious meads, Or painted gardens glow; Despise my solitary flowrs, And live the slaves of show. XVI. But know, high Heavn in desart wastes Can bid rich Spring to bloom; And waken Nature into life, From Winters dreary tomb. XVII. The gracious Powr who rules on high, Bids ALL his blessings share; And evry creature of his hand Is governd by his care. XVIII. Convincd that Providence will thus For ALL alike provide; Learn to restrain Afflictions tears, And check the boast of Pride. FABLE XX. The DEADLY NIGHTSHADE23. I. Detested weed, enragd, I said, That spreadst thy poisond train In this fair land, midst blooming flowrs, Which grace the happy plain! II. Thy baleful root most surely springs From deep Tartarean shade; By envious Dmons nursd below, In Stygian gloom arrayd. 23 The juice of this weed was generally supposed to be used in EnchantmentsThere are however several sorts of it, all of which are not esteemed deadly; but only this mentioned here, the juice of whose berries so intoxicated the army of Sweno the Danish King, being mixed in their liquor, that they became an easy prey to the Scotch army, which surprised and cut most of them to pieces. III. Thee CIRCE, and MEDA too, In black enchantment usd; With baneful plants most fitly mixd, In hellish steams suffusd. IV. Ah! why does Parent NATURE form, Such works, her works to spoil; And by her own hand teach mankind, Infernal arts and guile? V. Say, fell Enchantress of the plain, The foe of humankind? Say for what crimes mans hapless race From thee such evils find! VI. Oh! quit the woods, the plains, the fields, Where health and plenty bloom: Retire to rocks and desartwilds, Or shade the Murdrers tomb. VII. Or rather haste to PLUTOS realm; There hide thy hated head, And flourish still unrivald there; Where Styx nine streams are spread. VIII. But here may evry healing flowr In prime of beauty bloom: To sickning Man restoring health, And shedding rich perfume! IX. I ceasdThe Flowr indignant heard; And all its leaves displayd A deepning gloom, which flung around A double NIGHT OF SHADE. X. Insulting Man! she trembling cryd, Of creatures most unjust; Still taxing Nature with those faults, Sprung from his evil lust. XI. The poisond Snake, the noxious Weed, Earths venomd juices drain; And, more than all yon fragrant flowrs, Enrich with health the plain. XII. Nay of my race grows many a plant, Which, of rich gifts possest, The sage Physician culls with care, To ease the Patients breast. XIII. Let Man his own wild passions tame, And hush them into Peace; MEDAS wand, and CIRCES cup, Were innocent to these. XIV. For ME, great Natures high behest; Contented I fulfil; Nor dream that aught by her ordaind, Can ever end in ill. XV. Go thou, fond youth, and VIRTUES charge With equal care obey: Then evry Weed shall prove a Flowr, To strew thy destind way. Illustration: Fab. XXI. The Crown Imperial and Heartsease. Illustration: Fab. XXII. The Water Lily. FABLE XXI. The CROWN IMPERIAL and HEARTSEASE. I. Lo! where from Persias warmer clime, And ancient Bactrias land; With interwoven purple wrought, The ensign of command, II. The CROWN IMPERIAL rears aloft His rich and gorgeous head, And, pointing to the distant sky, Bids all his glories spread. III. Beneath, in humbler station placd, The fair VIOLA grew, Which the lovd name of HeartsEase bears, Whose powr can Care subdue. IV. The purple monarch swelld with ire, Indignant to behold The flowret blooming near his side, And thus his anger told; V. Rash flowr, seest thou my aweful state, That speaks the gardens king? Seest thou th Imperial Crown that decks, And gems that round me spring. VI. I from the East my lineage draw, Where chief of flowrs I rise; And amidst thousands raise my fame, Evn to the starry skies. VII. Go then, base daughter of the earth! Near some vile cottage grow; Nor give thy paltry race to rise Where my bright blossoms blow! VIII. The sweet VIOLA inly mournd The boasters illplacd pride; And, while this answer she returnd, The flowr with pity eyd: IX. Great is the boast, I own, she said, Of pomp and scepterd powr; But greater are the blessings found In lifes serener hour. X. Thee purple honours still adorn, Which teach thy leaves to shine; But to breathe fragrance on the day, Proud plant! was never thine. XI. That I am stranger to thy race, The cause is plain to tell; For when did HeartsEase ever deign With crowned heads to dwell? XII. ME still in lifes more humble vale Most certain will you find; There most my simple sweets are known, Where Fortune proves least kind. XIII. Go learn, That neither wealth nor pomp True blessings can bestow; On sweet CONTENT alone await All joy and bliss below. FABLE XXII. THE WATER LILY. I. Within a crystal rivlet bright, Whose sides, with verdure crownd, From shelving banks reflected wide The landscape bordring round, II. A WATER LILY peaceful reard Her lovely, graceful head; And on the gentlyheaving stream Her beauteous flowrs were spread. III. Thence she beheld the banks with flowrs Of various kinds arrayd; And nodding trees, that far dispersd Their overhanging shade; IV. For there the lofty Poplar grew, Still mingling white with green; And there the rustling Aspin too With trembling leaves was seen. V. The Willow, nodding oer the brook, Drinks deep the stream below; Cowslip and Primrose near at hand, And purple Iris glow. VI. The LILY saw, and to the lake Thus softcomplaining cryd, While gentle ZEPHYRS bore the sound, Which spread from side to side: VII. Ah hapless lot! while others bloom On yonder happy shore, Amongst their kindred tribesmy fate Here lonely I deplore. VIII. Condemnd amid this watry waste For ever to remain; Nor taste the joys which others know On yonder flowry plain. IX. The GODDESS OF THE WATER heard, And Anger movd her heart; How darst thou thus affront (she said) The Powr by which thou ART? X. Those other trees and flowrs thou seest, ALL sprang from Mother Earth: And grateful tribute ALL return To Her who gave them birth. XI. While thou, alas! should I withdraw The least of this my store; Shalt call on other Powrs in vain, And sink, to rise no more. XII. Beauteous thou art, nor meanly prizd: Then lay no blame on me; Nor seek what, though it others bless, Must surely ruin thee. XIII. But still revere this facted truth, Whatever may betide; What Heavn decrees is always BEST, And all is BAD beside. Illustration: Fab. XXIII. The Lover  Funeral Flowers Illustration: Fab. XXIV. The Field  Garden Daisy FABLE XXIII. The FUNERAL FLOWERS. I. As, lonely walking oer the plain, With solemn step and slow, A hapless swain, at midnight hour, Went forth to vent his woe; II. His hand the sweetest flowrets filld That glowd with beautys bloom; Now destind with their richest tints T adorn his LAURAS tomb. III. Lo! there each mournful flowr he strewd, Which vernal FLORA bears; With frequent sighs dispersd them round, And waterd them with tears. IV. There was the VILETS purple hue, And HYACINTHUS seen; The leaves with monarchs names inscribd, And plaintive notes between. V. Sweet ROSEMARY, and many a plant In Eastern gardens known; And Lovers MYRTLE, which the Queen Of Beauty deigns to own. VI. A Sage, who wanderd there alone In the dank dews of night, To gather plants of mystic powr, Beneath the moons pale light, VII. With scornful smile, and eye askance, The hapless youth surveyd; Who paid the last sad tribute there To the departed maid. VIII. And what! (said he) shall those sweet flowrs, Which sinking life can save, And plants of aromatic scent, Adorn a dreary grave? IX. For shame, fond youth! learn Natures gifts With better skill to prize. Attend her precepts; read them here: Be frugal, and be wise. X. He ceasd; the sighing youth replyd, To LAURAS shade I give, Unblamd, each emblematic flowr, Which she first taught to live. XI. And frequent here fair FLORAS train Unculld by ME shall bloom; And, nursd by bright AURORAS tears, Diffuse their rich perfume. XII. Then urge me not, with narrow mind, To wrong the dust below; But rather THOU expand thy heart, And genrous tears bestow. XIII. Thus as he spoke, the REDBREAST mild, The friend of humankind, Wide scatterd leaves oer the low mound, And on the turf reclind. XIV. While PHILOMEL with plaintive notes Funereal dirges sung Oer LAURAS tomb, who oft in life Had mournd her ravishd young. XV. And vain (she sang) was Wisdoms lore, That taught the heart to hide; And vain the empty idle boast Of Philosophic Pride. XVI. The flowrs more sweetly seemd to smile Reviving at her lay; And sweeter scent, and fresher green, The swelling leaves display. XVII. The Sage stood checkd, the solemn song Such virtue could impart; He droppd a tear, to pity due, That humanizd the heart. XVIII. The graceful softness of the soul He learnd thenceforth to prize; And ownd, where NATURE touchd the Heart, Twas FOLLY to be WISE. FABLE XXIV. The FIELD and GARDEN DAISY. I. In fields, where Thames her swelling wave Translucent pours along; Where many a blooming green retreat Inspires the poets song; II. A mead with native beauty crownd, Extends its verdant bed; Where fragrant Fieldflowrs wildly bloom, In sweet confusion spread. III. It chancd a sportive youth had there A GARDEN DAISY reard, Which midst the tribe of wilder sort Full haughtily appeard. IV. Away! (she cryd) ye meaner train, Whose leaves no culture know; Respect the Cultivated Flower, That deigns in fields to grow! V. And chiefly thou that boastst my name, Though surely not allyd; Claim kindred with thy native weeds, Nor flourish by my side! VI. I know thee not;thy form I scorn; In native splendour bright IRIS has dippd my painted leaves, All beauteous to the sight. VII. Whilst THOU!but vainly spent the time, On such a flowr bestowd: Disdaind by all the Gardens tribes, My late belovd abode. VIII. Know ME your queen, ye lowborn race, Confess superior sway; Nor longer in my presence bloom, But tremble, and obey. IX. To foul reproach (the DAISY said) What answer can we yield, When cultivated flowrs insult The natives of the field? X. Yet what art THOU? proud gaudy toy, Descended but from me, Who mourn too late I eer gave birth To such Ingrates as thee! XI. I have my use, and oft am seen The village maids t adorn: Go prouder thou, in gardens bloom, And be the greatones scorn. XII. But here, proud flowr, thy date is short, The soil denies thee room; And evn this spot, where now thou swellst, Shall shortly prove thy tomb. XIII. The Sun gazd hot, the foreign field No moisture would supply; Soon did the boaster droop her head, And wither, fade, and die. XIV. What need I more?The village swain, While on the sod reclind, Feels the plain Moral of the Tale Deep graven on his mind. Illustration: Fab. XXV. The Pinks and Arbutus. Illustration: Fab. XXVI. The Cockscomb  Sweetwilliam. FABLE XXV. The PINKS and ARBUTUS. I. Virtue, the growth of evry clime, Alike should be reverd; Whether from distant regions brought, Or in our country reard. II. Rome, the great mistress of the world, Such height had neer attaind; The train of worth in evry land Had her proud sons disdaind. III. From foreign arms, from foreign arts, Her native glory rose; And more than half her boasted state She borrowd from her foes. IV. Vain is that boast of selfish pride, Which deems no worth is found, But in the narrow sphere confind Of its own native ground. V. Though not to foreign lands, untaught, We need for Virtue roam; Yet real Virtue, nursd abroad, Should be reverd at home. VI. On fair Iernes happy shore A tall ARBUTUS placd, Bloomd near a sweetlyculturd spot, By PINKS unnumberd gracd, VII. Twas on the border of that lake24, Where varyd prospects rise, Of sunny hills, oerhanging rocks, And lowring misty skies; 24 The Lake of Killarney, most romantically situated in the county of Kerry, in Ireland, where the Arbutus tree is found, which bears a most beautiful blossom, and a fruit sometimes used for food, and which is supposed to have been transplanted thither from Italy. VIII. SELINA, wandring near the Lake, The foreign tree surveyd; And bloomst thou midst our native Flowrs? Exclaimd the reddning maid IX. O could these hands thy root remove! But since that may not be, Far Ill transplant my fragrant Race, Now placd too near to thee. X. She saidwhen strait before her stood An ancient Hermit grave; With silverd locks and streaming beard, The tenant of the cave; XI. Desist, fond maid! the Hermit cryd, Lest these thy favourd flowrs Should die, if hastily removd From these their wellknown bowrs; XII. What if the tall ARBUTUS share Th indulgence of thy land; Do not his sweetly fragrant flowrs As fair a lot demand? XIII. Nor let IERNES children grieve, Where foreign worth is shown; But learn with cultivating care To make that worth their own. XIV. For thee, fair maidthe patriot flame Still nourish in thy breast: But let that flame by Reasons rules Be modelld and repressd. XV. Know that thy countrys weal depends Not on herself alone; But each assisting hand that strives To fix fair Freedoms throne. XVI. Commerce and Stores from other lands Your glories still increase; Encourage then the golden stream, And evry art of peace. XVII. Nor foreign Flowrs, nor foreign Plants, Deny a fostring place; When those fair Plants or blooming Flowrs Bring Profit, Sweet, or Grace. XVIII. Reject alone the idle weed, That blooms but to destroy; To cultivate the rest with care Your utmost skill employ. XIX. He ceasd;the Nymph her task forsook, And still together bloom The beautous Tree, and fragrant Flowrs, Whence ZEPHYRS steal perfume. FABLE XXVI. The COCKS COMB and SWEET WILLIAM. I. High rose the Sun, the fleeting hours Vergd towrds meridian height, And all around the glittring scene Was lost in floods of light. II. The flocks and herds, that grazd awhile, Now left the sunny glade; And in the stream their fervour coold, Or sought the sheltring shade. III. Beneath a high projected fence, At this irradiate hour, The sweet Dianthus25 humbly blew, A solitary Flowr. 25 Another name for Sweet William. IV. But where a thousand mingling sweets Diffusd a rich perfume; The gaudy COCKS COMB, idly vain, Appeard in all its bloom. V. And Matchless excellence! he cryd, With ME what can compare? The sweetest of the vernal train Were never half so fair. VI. My crested head erect I rear, And bloom with matchless grace; The brightest hue my leaves adorns, Of all the flowry race. VII. Nay, to immortal powrs akin, Descent from Heavn I claim26; And from eternalblooming Flowrs Derive my honourd name. 26 This Flower is a kind of Bastard Amaranth. VIII. I viewd the Plant, its form admird; When a more modest Flowr Engagd my eye, where soft it rose Within its lonely bowr. IX. Sweet tribes, (he sang,) fair FLORAS care, What beauties you display! My breast expands with social joy To see your bright array. X. To me, the last of flowrets, give, Within this pale to grow: And give the west winds gentle breath Oer this my bed to blow. XI. He spokethe powrs indulgent heard, Soft ZEPHYRS fannd the trees; And oer his humble earthy bed Diffusd a gentle breeze. XII. Smit with the fragrance of the scent The winds rejoicing bore; I ownd the powr of modest worth, Whose rival charmd no more27. XIII. Say, Fairones, is the Moral plain, In easy Fable drest? It is but thisTo Merit true, Throw Coxcombs from your breast. 27 The Cocks Comb being a gaudy Flower, without any agreeable smell to recommend it. Illustration: Fab. XXVII. The Jasmine and Hemlock. Illustration: Fab. XXVIII. The Carnation and Southernwood. FABLE XXVII. The JASMINE and HEMLOCK. I. Towring aloft, a JASMINE sweet In a rich garden stood; And thence, nursd by wild Natures care, The neighbring HEMLOCK viewd. II. High oer the pale the angry flowr Reard her affronted head; And, glowing in her vernal bloom, She thus contemptuous said: III. Say, worse than Aconite, pernicious weed! How darst thou here to grow; And thy detested head advance, Near where my blossoms blow? IV. The angry HEMLOCK strait replyd, Thou proud insulting thing! Vain is thy pride, and vain thy boast, Though deckd by gaudy Spring. V. Thou, in the blooming garden placd, Mayst please the roving eye. I in some field or secret shade My useful aid supply. VI. Nay, scornful flowr! what I declare, Great Natures self will own: Ordaining all things fair and good, When once their use is known. VII. Go ask of genial BACCHUS tree, Where purple clusters glow; (Whose juice produces genrous wine, The balm of human woe.) VIII. Go ask what various ills attend, That precious balms abuse: Ills that too surely evn exceed Those of my baneful juice. IX. Yet baneful where? when misapplyd; So is each blessing too. This lesson learn, and know thyself; Nor rob me of my due. X. Me the grave Leech, who, greatly wise, Turns Natures volume oer, Oft snatches from my low abode, And places in his store. XI. There, amongst healthbestowing plants, He ranks my honourd name; And, whilst he well employs my powrs, Exalts himself to fame. XII. Thus death and life alike are mine, Neither to thee belong: Though oft by poets most admird, The theme of idle song. XIII. Be thou so still; but neer despise Those gifts thou canst not share: But keep this maxim in thy heart, The USEFUL is the FAIR. XIV. She saidabashd the JASMINE heard, And hung her drooping head; She saw, That NATURES works were good, And all her Boasting fled. FABLE XXVIII. The CARNATION and SOUTHERNWOOD. I. Rich in a thousand beauteous dyes, The sweet CARNATION stood; While with a proud disdainful eye The SOUTHERNWOOD she viewd. II. Great is thy Pride, the flowr exclaimd, To place thee near my side; For evn to grow in this retreat, Argues thy matchless pride. III. Say, what art thou, thyself no flowr, That darst intrude thee here; Midst plants fit for a princes bowr, Flowrs fit for kings to wear? IV. Whateer I am, the Plant replyd, My post I well maintain; And chearful lend my needful aid, Where thine, alas! were vain. V. Say, could thy flowrs of brightest dye Infections force withstand? Ah! what could all thy beauties do, If plagues laid waste the land? VI. Mean as I am, the task is mine, To purge th unwholesome air; To clear the brain, the blood refine, And seat HYGEIA28 there. 28 The Goddess of Health. VII. Nay farther still;thyself shalt own How oft Im joind with thee; And thy bright blossoms brighter bloom, Because theyre placd by me. VIII. Are not the various tints, which deck This scene, the Florists pride? ME then, imperious! venerate For powrs to thee denyd. IX. Say, if each warbler of the grove Should chuse the selfsame strain; Would the tird ear the concert please, Or wish to hear again? X. Nature, who made us what we are, Did diffrent gifts impart; And gave to all their portion due Of her allplastic art. XI. Contented then in diffrent spheres Unenvying let us move: For this must still most grateful be To THOSE who rule above. XII. Me let thy sweetest fragrance grace, Evn from the early May; And thee will I in gardens fair With sovreign balm repay. XIII. For, thus united while we stand, We need to ask no more; While mutually we take and give, We double all our store. XIV. Prudent she said;her rival, pleasd, Adopts the smelling green; And one for Use, and one for Show, Together now are seen. XV. Learn hence, That various talents givn Mean variously to bless: And thus on mutual wants kind Heavn Builds mutual Happiness. Illustration: Fab. XXIX. Field Flower  Rosemary. Illustration: Fab. XXX. Judgement of the Flowers. FABLE XXIX. The ROSEMARY and FIELD FLOWER. I. Upon the famd HYPANIS banks, By chance, in days of yore, A tuft of Rosemary there grew, Which scented all the shore. II. And near at hand a Fieldflowr rear Its variegated head; And viewd full many a spacious track, With dreary desarts spread. III. But where the river rolld its stream, Unnumberd insects swarmd; Which rose in myriads into life, By PHBUS influence warmd29. 29 On the banks of the river Hypanis, there is a sort of insect, whose life is said only to extend from the rising to the setting of the sun. IV. The same revolving day that saw Their scene of life begun, Beheld them sink to dust again, With the declining sun. V. And one of these, at noontide hour, (The hardiest of his race) Urgd to the Fieldflowr bright and gay His quick and eager pace. VI. But when no fragrant scent he found In that same flowr so bright; He to the sweeter Rosemary Immediate urgd his flight. VII. The lasting aromatic plant, His speed with wonder viewd; Advisd him other flowrs to seek, Nor on her spot intrude. VIII. And how can I for thee (she said) My happier powrs display, Or with my lasting flowr support The insect of a day? IX. Sure Nature formd thy race in sport, Continual to destroy; Nor ever meant thy race to taste One pure, substantial joy. X. Not so, the wiser Insect cryd, My high descent I claim From PHBUS selfyou cannot more, Nor wish a higher name. XI. What if to me a shorter date By Natures law is givn; Each moment that I live, t enjoy, Is all I ask of Heavn. XII. Beneath the Mushrooms spacious shade, Or in the mossy bowr, Or still at noon as now reclind, Beneath some fragrant flowr. XIII. Know, that as much of life I trace In one revolving sun; As yonder herds, whose destind course Full many an age has run. XIV. For equal are great Natures gifts, And but an idle dream; The boast of time, which glides away Swift as the passing stream. XV. Well to employ the present hour, Sweet plant, be ever thine; LIFES little day, when once elapsd, Shall seem as short as MINE. FABLE XXX. The JUDGEMENT of FLOWERS. I. Far from the busy haunts of men, Far from the glaring eye of day; Still Fancy paints, with Natures pen, Such tints as never can decay. II. Hast thou not seen, at evning hour, When PHBUS sunk beneath the main, Reclind in some sequesterd bowr, The village maid, or shepherd swain? III. Hast thou not markd them cull with care Some favourd flowret from the rest, To deck the breast, or bind the hair, Of those they prizd and lovd the best? IV. And still expressive of the mind The emblematic gift was found; Whether to mournful thought inclind, Or with triumphant gladness crownd. V. Near AVONS banks, a culturd spot, With many a tuft of flowrs adornd, Was once an aged shepherds lot, Who scenes of greater splendor scornd. VI. Three beauteous daughters blessd his bed, Who made the little plat their care; And evry sweet by FLORA spread Attentive still they planted there. VII. Once, when still evning veild the sky, The sire walkd forth, and sought the bowr; And bade the lovely maids draw nigh, And each select some favourd flowr. VIII. The first, with radiant splendor charmd, A variegated Tulip chose: The next, with love of beauty charmd, Preferrd the sweetlyblushing Rose. IX. The third, who markd, with depth of thought, How those bright Flowrs must droop away, An Evning Primrose only brought, Which opens with the closing day. X. The sage a while in silence viewd The various choice of flowrs displayd; And then (with wisdoms gift endud) Addressd each beauteous listning maid! XI. Who chose the Tulips splendid dyes, Shall own, too late, when that decays, That, vainly proud, not greatly wise, She only caught a shortlivd blaze. XII. The Rose, though beauteous leaves and sweet Its glorious vernal pride adorn: Let her who chose beware to meet The biting sharpness of its thorn. XIII. But she, who to fair daylights train The Evning flowr more just preferrd; Chose real worth, nor chose in vain The one great object of regard. XIV. Ambitious thou! the Tulip race In all lifes varyd course beware: Caught with sweet Pleasures rosy grace, Do thou its sharper thorns beware. XV. Thou prudent still to Virtues lore, Attend, and mark her counsels sage! She like thy flowr has sweets in store, To soothe the evning of thine age. XVI. He ceasdattend the moral strain, The Muse enlightend pours; Nor let her pencil trace in vain The Judgement of the Flowrs. FINIS. This Day is published, For the Use of Young Ladies Boarding Schools, Price only Two Shillings, bound in Red, Dedicated, by Permission, to the Right Honourable Lady ELIZABETH KERR, CHOICE EMBLEMS, Natural, Historical, Fabulous Moral, and Divine, For the Improvement and Pastime of Youth. Embellished with near Fifty Allegorical Devices: With pleasing and familiar Descriptions to each, in Prose and Verse. The whole calculated to convey the golden Lessons of Instruction, under a new and more delightful Dress. By the AUTHOR of FABLES OF FLOWERS. Say, should the philosophic mind disdain That good, which makes each humbler bosom vain? Let schooltaught Pride dissemble all it can, These little Things are great to little Man. The Editor of the British Magazine for the Month of April last observes, that the Language of the above ingenious Performance is easy; the Allegories well chosen; the Instruction useful and important; and the Whole, properly calculated to make a deep and lasting Impression on the soft and ductile Minds of Youth.At the same Time, that many of maturer Age may read it with Pleasure and Profit. For a more particular Examination of its approved Merit, see the Town and Country and Whebles Ladys Magazine for January; the Monthly and Critical Review for April last, c. c. N. B. An elegant Edition of the above Book is preparing for the Press, with the Addition of near Fifty new Emblems, never before published, all written by the same Author, which will be ornamented with near One Hundred beautiful Copperplates, engraved in the most masterly Stile. Books Printed for G. RILEY, in May Fair. This Day is Published, In Two Volumes, price 5s. sewed, or 6s. bound, Dedicated to Their Royal Highnesses GEORGE AUGUSTUS FREDERICK, Prince of Wales; and Prince FREDERICK, Bishop of Osnaburgh. THE VIZIRS; OR, THE INCHANTED LABYRINTH, An Oriental Tale. By the AUTHOR of that much admired performance, The WAR of the BEASTS, The TRANSMIGRATION of HERMES, ABBASSAI, c. c. For an account of this Ingenious Ladys Literary Productions, see The History of the Illustrious Women of France, lately published. Illustration The Second Edition, Printed in Quarto, on superfine Paper, price 2s. The ENGLISH GARDEN, a Poem, By W. MASON, M. A. Book the First. This Day is Published, Price 4s. bound. The Court and Country Confectioner: OR, The HOUSEKEEPERS GUIDE To a more speedy, plain, and familiar method of understanding the whole art of confectionary, pastry, distilling, and the making of fineflavoured English wines from all kinds of fruits, herbs, and flowers; comprehending near five hundred easy and practical receipts, never before made known: particularly, PRESERVING. CANDYING. ICING. TRANSPARENT MARMALADE. ORANGE. PINEAPPLE. PISTACHIO, and other Rich Creams. CARAMEL. PASTILS. BOMBOONS. SYRUPS. PUFF, SPUN, and FRUITPASTES. LIGHTBISCUITS. PUFFS. RICH SEEDCAKES. CUSTARDS. SYLLABUBS. FLUMMERIES. TRIFLES, WHIPS, FRUITS, and other JELLIES.PICKLES, c. Also new and easy directions for clarifying the different degrees of sugar, together with several bills of fare of deserts for private gentlemens families. A NEW EDITION. To which is added, a dissertation on the different species of fruits, and the art of distilling simple waters, cordials, perfumed oils, and essences. By Mr. BORELLA, now Head Confectioner to the Spanish Ambassador in England. This Day are published, Price Five Shillings and Three Pence in Boards, The FIRST and SECOND VOLUMES Of an entire new and useful Work, Dedicated, by Permission, to His Grace HUGH Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, Calculated for the Advantage and Instruction of the Botanist, the Country Gentleman, the Nurseryman and Gardener, Illustrated with Copperplates, and a copious Botanical Glossary. THE UNIVERSAL BOTANIST AND NURSERYMAN. Containing descriptions of the species and varieties of all the trees, shrubs, herbs, flowers, and fruits, natives and exotics, at present cultivated in the European nurseries, greenhouses, and stoves, or described by modern botanists; arranged according to the Linnan system, with their names in English. To which are added, Catalogues of the flowers raised by the most eminent florists in Europe; with their names, colours, and prices, translated into English: as well as a list of the most esteemed fruits: particularly those raised in the nursery of the Carthusians in Paris. The whole to be completed in Four Volumes. By RICHARD WESTON, Esq; Hic ver perpetuum, atque alienis mensibus stas. VIRG. Printed for GEORGE RILEY, Bookseller, May Fair; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York. The Third and Fourth Volumes are in the Press, and will be published in a few days. By the same Author, Handsomely printed in Quarto, Price 2s. 6d. with Allegorical Designs, engraved in the most beautiful and picturesque Style by Mr. WHITE, THE FOUR SEASONS. A POEM."
  }
]